The Coming Storm_A Pax Aeterna Novel

by Trevor Wyatt

  The Seeker rocked under his feet, and even though Jeryl couldn’t see it, he knew that the ship was falling apart.

  “Fire!” he said once more into the darkness, his body growing cold as the ship kept on rocking. Heavy beads of sweat pooled on his forehead, and he felt his uniform sticking to his skin uncomfortably.

  Then, the klaxons started to fade as Jeryl started hearing a ticking sound.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock.

  “For God’s sake, fire!” he pleaded—to whom, he didn't know. But there was no one to man the consoles, no one to obey his commands. Staggering, he made his way to the weapons control and pressed the operating panel over and over again. It didn’t lit up, and Jeryl knew that The Seeker was dying. Not exactly dying, but rotting.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock.

  In the distance, he heard the wail of a baby.

  “Ashley!”

  He turned on his heels and ran out of the CNC, making his way through the deserted corridors of his ship. The baby kept on crying, and the ticking sound became even faster than before.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock.

  “Time’s running out,” he said to himself, freezing on his tracks. “Time’s running out. Time’s—”

  Jeryl sat up on the bed, his body covered in cold sweat. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and the sheet covering the lower half of his body was completely drenched.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed and running one hand through his wet hair. Glancing to the side of the bed, he felt his heart sink as he noticed the emptiness there. Ashley was already up and running, even though it was still early morning.

  In silence, he dragged himself to the bathroom of his hotel suite and stepped under the shower. He stood there for a long time, allowing his thoughts to run wild. When was the last time he had had such a nightmare?

  After the Earth-Sonali War ended, Jeryl had been plagued by these kinds of nightmares. They repeated themselves each and every night, and each time it happened, he woke up covered in cold sweat. But eventually they went away, as slowly, he regained control of his own mind.

  But now that Ashley was pregnant, he somehow felt his control slipping away again. Could he be The Seeker’s captain and a father? Could he keep putting his life on the line, over and over again, knowing that a new life depended on him and Ashley?

  “Time’s running out,” he muttered ominously. In eight months or so, he’d be holding his newborn baby and...what then?

  Trying to keep all those thoughts contained inside a dark corner of his mind, he stepped out of the shower and got dressed. He inspected himself in front of the full-body mirror, and nodded when he was finally satisfied with the crisp perfection of his uniform.

  “Alright. Man up, Jeryl,” he ordered himself. He held his head up high, threw his shoulders back, and stepped out of the hotel room.

  The morning sun was already peeking in the horizon, painting New Washington’s skies in a pinkish tone. The hotel’s corridors were still blanketed in deep silence, making the sound of Jeryl’s uniform boots echo as he stepped on the marble floor.

  The aircar was already waiting for Jeryl in the rooftop. He nodded at the pilot and then settled himself in the back. Then, he took his tablet from inside his jacket and fired it up.

  A few taps on the screen and he was already checking The Seeker’s status; few more hours for the last routine checks and the ship would be ready to go. Despite the confrontation with the Udenar in Galea’s orbit, The Seeker managed to get away without any major repairs being needed. One week was more than enough for the Armada’s engineers and mechanics to make it operational again.

  “Impressive ship, ain’t it?” the pilot asked Jeryl, and the captain nodded with a smile, glancing out the aircar’s window. The shipyards were in New Washington’s outskirts, a sprawling jungle of hangar decks and massive docking stations.

  For a moment, Jeryl thought of the billions and billions of credits the Union had to constantly pour into the Armada’s vaults. During the Earth-Sonali War, military spending ramped up at a breakneck speed, and that trend continued ever since. No small wonder, since humanity now had other races to contend with. Even though the Galactic Council was now a reality—and that, thanks to Jeryl—the galaxy still felt rough at the edges, peace as unstable as the core of a dying star.

  And with the Tyreesians moving behind the scenes constantly, that peace felt frailer than ever before.

  As the aircar began its descent toward the shipyard, Jeryl’s tablet chirped.

  Incoming: Admiral Flynn, his tablet read.

  Jeryl tapped the screen and opened his slipstream channel.

  “Good morning, Captain,” the Admiral said.

  Jeryl couldn’t help but notice the bags under Flynn’s bloodshot eyes. Did the man ever sleep? Despite his advancing age, it seemed like the Admiral had no intention of ever slowing down. Jeryl knew that the Armada was an all-consuming obsession for the old man.

  And am I any different? he thought, his heart tightening as he thought of Ashley and the baby.

  “Good morning, Admiral.”

  “How are The Seeker’s repairs coming along?”

  “The ship should be operational in a few hours, Admiral. I’m actually arriving at the—“

  “Good, good,” Flynn cut him short. “Now turn that aircar around and meet me at the base. Something came up.”

  “Something?”

  “Yes, something,” Flynn nodded. “And it isn’t good. Get here fast. The top brass is meeting, and they don’t like to wait.”

  With that, Flynn cut off the channel, his image disappearing before Jeryl’s eyes as if it was never there in the first place.

  The top brass? What is it this time?

  “Turn the aircar around,” Jeryl told the pilot.

  “Sir?”

  “I’m needed at the base.”

  In the back of his mind, Jeryl could still hear the ticking of a clock.

  Tick, tock, tick, tock—time’s running out.

  Chapter 2

  Jeryl

  “Captain! Glad you could make it,” Admiral Gan sneered, drumming his fingertips on the tabletop as Jeryl walked inside the conference room.

  Great, didn’t know this asshole was in New Washington, Jeryl thought.

  “Admiral,” Jeryl nodded politely, even though he had never liked the man. Unlike Flynn, Admiral Gan was one of those pencil-pushers Jeryl had always despised, barking out orders while hiding in a plush office. Moreover, he was quick to reap any praise whenever one of his subordinates managed to do something well.

  “Take a seat, Captain,” Flynn told him, waving his hand at the only empty seat on the table. There were six Admirals in the room, all of them with a tense look on their faces. “Time is of the matter.”

  “Very well. What’s going on?”

  “To put it simply, the Armada has ran into a problem,” one of the Admirals said, a burly fellow with a well-trimmed beard. “And if word got out, it’d be extremely embarrassing...not only for the Armada, but for the Union as well.”

  Jeryl looked around the room and noticed that some of the Admirals were hesitant about the subject. Whatever it was, it had to do with a military failure of some sort.

  “Before the...situation you faced, do you remember what The Seeker’s assignment was?” Flynn finally spoke up, careful not to address the Galea situation directly—the whole thing had been a covert operation, after all.

  “Yes. We were assigned to escort convoys X-647 up to X-654. Military-grade apparel. A simple enough job.”

  “Yes, a simple enough job,” Admiral Gan hissed. “Except your fellow captains weren’t really up to it. In fact—”

  “What Admiral Gan means,” Flynn said, cutting Gan off, “is that our convoys run weren’t as secured as we expected them to be.”

  “Pirates?”

  “Very likely,” Flynn nodded, tapping a few buttons on the console in front of him. In the center of the table, a
holographic map of a specific quadrant of the sector shaped up. “As you’re aware, The Seeker was supposed to escort a convoy of transport ships, all of them carrying military cargo, to the Edoris escort. Since your ship wasn’t available, we changed the plan and redistributed these escort assignments to other captains. Three of them were attacked.”

  Jeryl stared at the holographic map, his gaze following the twelve blue dots travelling across it. Then, suddenly, the dots turned red and blinked twice—and disappeared.

  “By whom?” Jeryl asked, not entirely sure of who’d be crazy enough to attack a transport convoy protected by a Union battleship. Some pirates were ballsy, but attacks on Armada ships were a rare occurrence. And, as far as Jeryl knew, no pirate crew had ever managed to board an Armada battleship. If they were dealing with pirates, they were pirates of a different caliber.

  “We’re...not sure.”

  “What do the reports say?”

  “There are no reports,” Admiral Gan shifted on his seat, looking straight at Jeryl. “None of the crew on these three convoys made it back. All ships were captured. Vanished without a trace.”

  “That’s...insane,” Jeryl whispered. “Pirates wouldn’t be able to—”

  “We know that. But we’re going with the pirate theory, at least for now. If not, who else? As you can imagine, the government is hesitant to concede we might be dealing with some alien power hell-bent on putting their hands on our military arsenal.”

  No wonder the whole Admiralty is embarrassed, Jeryl thought. If the media caught wind of the fact that the military was being robbed left and right—be it by pirates or some other power—the Union government would make some heads roll in the Armada’s top brass.

  “So, what now?”

  “Now, we want you to escort the next convoy leaving New Washington. Its departure is scheduled in about eight hours. I’ll take The Seeker will be ready by then?”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  “Then get to it, Captain,” Flynn said. “And remember, we want this matter to be handled as quietly as possible. I’ll be leaving for the Edoris Station today as well, so we’ll rendezvous there. Make sure the convoy gets there safely. We trust you to handle any run-ins with the…pirates. Figure out who’s behind it, and capture them if possible.”

  “I’m on it, sir,” Jeryl said with a nod, going up to his feet.

  “And, Jeryl,” Flynn added before The Seeker’s captain left, “good luck.”

  Chapter 3

  Ashley

  The new Hunters were truly a sight to behold, the latest in Armada engineering coming at a time when it was needed most. The old ones, after all, had taken a beating at the hands of the Udenar.

  Ashley looked out on the flight deck from the observation platform and watched as the pilots carefully checked out their new machines.

  “Makes you wish you were just a pilot, eh?” one of the mechanics said while carrying some replacement parts in from the deck’s storage room.

  “Yeah, it does.” Ashley knew that as first officer, her duty was on the bridge. However, some things never changed. Even with her rank, and her delicate condition, she knew that there was nothing like sweeping through the darkened heavens and performing the delicate dance known as combat maneuvers.

  “You want me to inform them you’re here?” the mechanic asked with a slight chuckle. As a specialist, he didn’t have to follow Armada traditions of announcing the presence of a senior officer, though it was common courtesy to at least ask.

  “No. Let them have their fun, I’m happy just listening in.”

  The mechanic left, whistling a small tune that quickly faded into the background as the pilots left their machines and retreated to a small holding area that they had turned into a makeshift clubhouse.

  Ashley followed, taking care not to be spotted so as to not tempt them to change the topic.

  “Yeah, right, Powers,” Tira said as she laughed. “You guys still have some growing up to do before you can measure up,” she continued, wearing a roguish grin that didn’t extend to her dark opal eyes.

  Guillermo Martinez snorted, “I’d like to see you try. Remember the fight we got in at the last port? You got your ass whipped by a Sonali cleric, of all things.”

  Ashley couldn’t help but smile. Since her ship was one of the first to get them straight from the Armada, she had taken a special interest in their development as officers and pilots. That bar brawl had been one of her favorite activity reports, especially considering how the cleric refused to press charges afterwards.

  Powers Boothe shook his head, “Didn’t see that fist coming, rookie. I mean, he swung so fast it was like he teleported his fist right to your head. Heck, wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they could do it.”

  “Who knows what’s coming down the pipe?” Tira replied. “I’m guessing the Armada have at least a couple of scientists looking to crack that teleporting nut. I wouldn’t be surprised if, soon enough, fighters and raiders start being equipped with that,” she continued, grabbing one of the tablets scattered across the table. “I mean, it should just be a matter of power allocation and proper positioning. Both of which, once they figure out the math...”

  “Oh, don’t go professor on us, Tira!” Guillermo snapped, taking the tablet from her and looking over the figures. “Wow. That’s good.” He raised one eyebrow as he considered the figures on the screen, but then turned his gaze back to Tira. “Though it still doesn’t really matter. I mean, who would shell out that kind of money for raiders? Wouldn’t it be more useful for battleships?”

  “Yes and no—think about it this way, we’re in a technology arms race. The one side develops something, the other side figures out how to do the same and some sort of countermeasure at the same time. The ability to teleport smaller ships would give everyone an edge. Sure, battleships teleporting into orbit would be nice. But just imagine hundreds of smaller ships popping in and out of existence all around you. Imagine the damage a single Hunter could do.”

  Ashley smiled. True to the personnel report, Tira has proven herself to be an exemplary tactician. Not even her husband was able to suss out that little detail, and he had been on the ground floor for nearly every major military tech leap since the start of the Earth-Sonali War.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah... That’s good and all, but you were reduced to a nasty smear across the deck plating. Your science’s good, but sometimes it’s about the guts,” Guillermo said, glancing around the room.

  Ashley barely had time to duck behind a shipping container; thankfully he didn’t notice her.

  “I got that too,” Tira laughed.

  “You’re a cocky one, aren’t ya?” Guillermo laughed back at her. “But when it comes to trading blows, that tactician brain of yours will do ya no good, ya know?”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Guillermo. I have no expectations as to what will happen, even while preparing for the usual. If I get into another fistfight with one of these Sonali assholes, I’ll make sure not to give the bastard a chance to swing first.”

  “Not very sporting of you.”

  “Sporting behavior is only good when you’re fighting for exercise. Tell me, did that Sonali look like he was just swinging for fun? Hell, it’s like battle. You win and dictate the terms, you can even set policy for what will work in the future. Like that swing—it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if some of the marines sitting at a table behind us start trying that move when they spar.”

  Ashley had to bite her tongue. She knew that Tira was right, but it was almost ass-backwards when viewed in the context of history. Policy is often the correction for past mistakes, not success. More maneuvers had been named by the dead than the living.

  Tira could be forgiven for that mistake, though. The last couple of years had seen the overturning of many things once taken for granted. Humanity went from being the only sentient race in the galaxy to being a major player in a Galactic Council. Success is quickly overtaking failure, and sometimes, creating new paradigms.r />
  “Shit, Tira, you sure know how to talk,” Guillermo continued, yawning as if he was bored by their conversation. “But wouldn’t it be better if you could show us?”

  “What do you mean?” Tira frowned.

  “Simple,” Guillermo laughed, reaching inside his pocket and grabbing his wallet card. “I bet you one hundred credits you can’t take me on a fight. Let’s see how good you really are. Hell, let’s make it even more interesting. How about…if you win, we’ll do your ship maintenance for a week?” He smiled, leaning forward across the table.

  There was silence for a few seconds. Then, Tira also leaned forward across the table to come face-to-face with Guillermo and said, “And if I lose?”

  “Two weeks taking care of our ships,” Powers chipped in, barely containing a chuckle.

  “It’s on,” Tira said, shaking Guillermo’s hand. She quickly stood up, and that was when she noticed Ashley.

  “Commander!”

  Ashley simply smiled and walked into the pilots’ view. “Afternoon, officers.” She looked straight at Tira. “I hope your little bet goes well. It would be a shame to lose to those louts.”

  Tira saluted, “Of course, ma’am!”

  Ashley motioned for Tira to follow and the two women walked a few feet away from the pilots. “Now, explain to me why you’re wagering with your health while we’re waiting on a new assignment? A skilled officer is like chicken’s teeth in these parts, especially one willing to work on this ship,” she whispered, a sinister glint in her eye.

  Tira swallowed. “Respect, ma’am. They have to believe I’ll put myself on the line for them, so camaraderie is essential. Plus, I know I can beat them.”

  Ashley nodded, “Good for you. You remind me of myself when I was younger—eager to be a part of a team, trying like hell to earn my salt. Just remember that the mission must come first. We’re here to serve the Union, not just to earn the praise of our fellow pilots and colleagues.”

  “Yes, ma’am. May I ask a personal question?”