Ghost of an Empire (Sentinel Series Book 3)

by Richard Flunker

  He continued hiking through the night, across a ridge and up and down two peaks. He then turned off southeast from the second peak, following a narrow crevasse, down into a high valley. From the top of the northern side of the valley, he immediately spotted the small building narrowly perched on the far side of the valley, right before it dropped off further down the mountain. A small stream spilled out along the bottom of the valley. His descent would be easy, but the building was at the edge of a cliff. His data told him that approaching in any other direction would get him spotted, even with how good he was, and his stealth suit only lasted ten seconds at a time.

  Up the cliff it was.

  To most men, that would have been a daunting task, but despite the fact he didn’t look like it, Fangix was also a highly modified man. He was far stronger and agile than normal men, without the huge muscles of the super soldiers. Although at times he dreamed about it, he knew that he wasn’t as strong as the top of the line super soldiers, but he was close. So he scaled the cliff with ease, climbing up seventy five feet in nearly twelve minutes.

  He reached the top, the edge of the building tight up against the edge, and slid around the side quietly. There was a small guard post next to the building, where he spotted two men inside. He smiled and pressed the button on his belt. There was no shimmer to be seen in the darkness, and his silent form sped into the guardhouse. Before they could even react to the unseen assailant, Fangix had slid his two daggers into their throats and up into their brain. Neither man emitted a sound. He checked their bodies quickly, but found no bio alarms, devices that could be used to alert a station if someone died or suffered some kind of harm.

  The console at the guard post was simple, but all he needed was to open the door to the building. He found a keycard on one of the guards and used it to open the door. As he ran from the post to the building, his enhanced hearing caught the squawk of the guard’s radio going off.

  “Hey Hammor, why did you open the door?”

  Fangix leapt to the side of the door and waited. A form walked through, calling out for the guard, and Fangix reached out and in one swift motion, locked him by the neck, and dropped himself to the ground, snapping the man’s neck with the impact. In an equally quick motion, Fangix was back on his feet, and a small screen appeared in his eyes. It was a timer, the countdown for the incoming fleet. He had to move.

  The building was small. Inside, there was a central room and a staircase leading up towards a second story. The first room held the living area, along with the quarters and exercise room. The main room was upstairs, through a tight, metal, staircase. He checked the stealth suit’s charge status, but saw that he needed a few more minutes for it, and he didn’t have time. He tucked his daggers into their sheaths on his chest, then tightened his right gauntlet. In a few leaps, he reached the top of the staircase and with a powerful kick, knocked down the door to the control room.

  Inside the room, five men worked on a plethora of consoles, each with multiple screen over it. This was one of the control rooms for the planetary batteries, the closest one which was underneath the very mountain they stood on. Somewhere, among the trees out there, giant plasma batteries sat hundreds of feet into the rock, waiting to pour fire into the space around Coran.

  The men spun around in shocked surprise, but two took a dagger to the neck before they managed to turn completely around. Each dropped as their spine was severed. Shock overtook the three men and they sat there stupefied by what had transpired. Fangix smiled and leapt towards the closest man. As he tried to bring his arms up in defense, Fangix hit him with a right jab that smashed him in the jaw with the full force of his gauntlet. As he slumped in his chair, crashing to the ground, the assassin raised the same gauntlet, and the tips of each finger exploded in electricity, showering the man with enough voltage to zap him into unconsciousness.

  The fifth man was half way up when he watched his companions go down in the matter of a few seconds. Fangix saw the hesitation, and knew then what the man was going to do. He reached down and grabbed the dagger from the neck of the console worker, and in the same motion, flipped it across the room. The fifth man had reached back to the console, trying to press a button, but Fangix’ dagger found its resting place in his hand. As he clutched his hand and screamed, Fangix surged forward, grabbing him by the neck and throwing him across the room.

  Blood dripped from his hand as he sat there, watching Fangix go over the console.

  “Who are you?” he shouted, a twang of pain in his voice.

  In days long gone, Fangix would have just finished him off. But there was no need now. After making sure the man hadn’t set off any kind of alarm, he calmly walked over to him, and with one swift kick to the head, knocked him out.

  The assassin ran back downstairs and dragged the first body back inside, and closed the door behind him. A quick check of the rooms, and then by the logs of the console, revealed that there was yet one unaccounted man or woman, likely another guard, either on duty in the grounds near the control center, or off duty. As the timer continued to count down, Fangix put that information in the back of his mind.

  Back upstairs, he quickly hacked into the command consoles and was in full control of the batteries. He began the upload of the virus specifically designed for the planetary defenses and sat back to wait. The screens above displayed the skies above the center, with each spaceship in and around orbit tagged and targeted. Currently, only the old Dominion ships were there, but as he saw the countdown continue, he knew that screen would soon fill up with many more ships.

  The plan had been for the virus to shut down the network of batteries in the northern hemisphere, but it dawned on Fangix at that moment that he could cause even more confusion. Once the upload completed, he began typing up new commands before activating the virus. He brought up the old fleet data and transponders, and hacked in their tags to show up as foe on their system. He put the virus on a ten minute timer. By the time techs found out about the change, the virus would kick in, and the system would be disabled for a good period.

  Fangix hit enter, and could immediately feel the vibration, ever so slightly, through the thick mountain rock. Deep within, the large batteries were charging up. From the window, even in the dark night, Fangix could make out the form of trees toppling over as the artillery bay doors opened. Steam vented into the cool night from several locations along the valley. He smiled to think that techs somewhere were soiling themselves thinking about what was about to happen.

  He wanted nothing more than to stand at the window and watch the fireworks, but he had to move. There was still a missing guard and more were surely on the way. He hit the console one last time and set the virus into action. It was one of the Queen’s creations, and it was sure to wreak incredible havoc on the Dominion’s somewhat backwards systems.

  Downstairs, he removed several plasma breach grenades, and plastered them to the inside of the door. He tapped them, and put the timer to ten seconds, closed the door, and ran back into the woods. He heard the hiss as the blast went off, sealing the doors. It wouldn’t keep anyone out for good, but it sure would make things hard. It was just some minor insurance.

  Going down the cliff proved a bit harder than going up, probably because he was in a hurry. By the time he reached the bottom, he could see the lights from a vehicle approaching at the top. Maybe the missing guard. It didn’t matter anymore. He raced off into the trees and reached the other side of the valley when the whole mountainside lit up with a pale green light. A blast of hot air nearly knocked him down. As he turned, he saw, with grim pleasure, as several blasts of superheated mass sped off into space, followed by more and more blasts. In his eye, the countdown reached zero. Had the night still been pitch black, he might have been able to see them arrive, but no matter. Right now, the fleet of the crumbling Dominion in orbit was hearing alarms go off. They would have been expecting the Harmoa and her ships, but they certainly would not have been expecting their own guns to be firing on them.<
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  As he reached the first peak and began to retrace his steps back, he looked up to the black sky. Green streaks sped off into space, but his enhanced eyesight could pick out flashes, the quick bursts of fire burning off oxygen immediately, the sign of space warfare. The final battle for the Dominion had begun, but for Fangix, this war was likely over.

  Now he only had to wait. And vanish.

  3127 – Coran, Quetala province, Temple of the Holy Seat

  There was nothing holy about it. The throne had been a source of tyranny and oppression. From its halls had come the orders for genocide and enslavement. Upon its walls were written the billions of lives extinguished for their glory. It was all a rouse, a self-made myth to fill in the gap, the need for religion. There were no other gods than the god of the bloodlines, the Dominar.

  That farce was almost at its end.

  The Battle for Coran had taken four days. Deespa had never doubted her enemy’s ferocity, but she had underestimated their greed and their overwhelming desire to hold on to their way of life, a way of life that had them clearly at the top of the food pyramid. She fought their ferocity man to man, for her men and women were just as dedicated to their cause as her enemies, but she was surprised by the horrors the fleeing nobles would perpetrate on their own people just to save themselves.

  It’s why the Dominion had to end.

  The Harmoa and her fleet slung into orbit over Coran just as the planetary batteries launched their fire into the sky. For a brief moment, Deespa thought that Fangix had failed on his mission, and was ready to deal with it. But when the sky bound plasma projectiles began to strike enemy frigates and cruisers, she joined in with the cheers that erupted in the bridge of her glorious ship. The men and women of the Harmoa were strictly Afhan noble members, for this was their ship. Along with its sister ship, the Magyo, now resting in peace in the deepest recesses of space, were built for one sole purpose, to awe. Deespa had taken it a step further, and through her advance understanding of gravity, made her truly an horrific instrument of war.

  The capital beam installed on the Harmoa was by all means impressive, but quite primitive. In order to have the credit for having mankind’s greatest weapon, they simply built the largest possible laser discharger they could fit onto the great ship. It was so incredibly inefficient, both in energy consumption and emission, that it really could only fire once every ten to twelve minutes. In space, where battles were usually over in a matter of minutes, it gave the fearsome ship one good shot. That was impressive already, but Deespa needed to overwhelm her enemies.

  Making the giant ship her own had not been too difficult. Her and her support fleet belonged to the Afhan family, one of the three main leading families in the Dominion. They already held considerable power and influence, but poured most of their resources into exploration and expansion. The two other leadings families poured their resources into slave labor and internal construction. The Afhan family’s seat of power, Afhan Primaria, was on the outer edges of what was considered Dominion core systems. Despite their power, they were in many ways, outsiders to their own empire.

  Her now loyal servant, Fangix, poor soul, belonged to that family. It was he who had discovered her, and, interestingly enough, who she was, at least in the part that was important to the Dominion. Of her true secret, only her closest friends, those who saved her, knew.

  On the ship she had returned to Afhan Primaria, and there was able to get the physical treatments to accelerate her growth and maturity. She was also allowed to delve into every aspect of genetic research their family had. She learned of the Dominion, its history and legacy, and knew then that the perilous path she had started on board the giant ship needed to be followed through. She was of two worlds, but to save one world, she needed to save the other first.

  Her mission was simple: the Dominion needed to end and the government that kept a tiny minority in absolute power needed to be removed and replaced with something more organic and representative of its people. She had nothing against the noble families, but their rule couldn’t be through power and force, but through representation. And the rule of one almighty Dominar, whose word was final in every single aspect of the empire, had to end, for good.

  For the Afhan family, their bloodlines hadn’t been in the Dominar for nearly eight hundred years, an eternity even for a Dominion noble and their long lived lives. The fall of the Dominar benefitted them greatly. Deespa could read right through them, of course. They hoped to place their own Dominar once her reign was over, so they ‘played’ along with her message. What they had not counted on were the many members of her adopted family beginning to accept her message. Then the commoners of their systems began to see her as their salvation and flock to her. As she grew, both physically and mentally, she learned much more. Her connection to the flesh that housed her soul grew stronger, and more relevant with time. She poured over all the genetic and biological research the Dominion had, and made herself an expert at it. Through this knowledge she began to change people, physically.

  Fangix was the first. It didn’t take long to see that the devious soul of the twisted man lusted after her. His desire for young flesh was quite ingrained into his psyche. It didn’t take much delving into his history to see the path of devastated girls he had left behind. According to civilized society, he was an evil man. But Deespa didn’t see evil, or good, for that matter. She was, after all, a machine. She was born from software and incarnate into metal. Her world before this one wasn’t one of good vs. evil, but ones vs. zeroes. To the sentinel program designed to explore the deepest corners of space, there were only actions and consequences.

  Fangix’ record revealed an impressive, and callous, list of casualties. While never openly, his family was proud that he was one of the greatest assassins in their era. That scared Deespa. She was never afraid of him, personally. As she grew, so did her strength. She tested her muscles and reflexes against several soldiers at once, and could best them with ease, before even using her enhanced senses or the several technological enhancements she had done to her body, all without anyone’s knowledge. No, she was afraid that a man so in tune with murder might act without disregard, and to her, all actions must have regard.

  So she scanned the list of those he killed. All men and women that had some kind of beef against the Dominion, but all horrible people in their own way. Oddly enough, and to her surprise, she saw no one on the list that was, by all human ways of thinking, innocent. Fangix was not evil, she purported, but just a product of the Dominion. The only acts that truly disturbed her were those born from his lust over young girls. It was, perhaps, naïve of her to think so, but she needed to understand.

  She took him under the knife, with his permission, and while he watched, cut into his brain. With the accuracy and precision of a supremely trained and experience surgeon, she took an almost microscopic section from the frontal lobe and removed it. The doctors assisting watched in awe, and when Fangix was well enough to speak and move about, his recovery was astounding. But not only that, his carnal desire, one that perverted his thinking and actions, was gone. Completely. The assassin couldn’t even explain it anymore. He recalled that he used to have the desire, but couldn’t even recollect what it was anymore.

  And so the legend grew.

  In one bloodless coup, the Afhan patriarch was deposed and removed. She refused to take his place, and instead, set up a system of rule with checks and balances in the systems she controlled. Slavery was abolished and full integration was expected. Deespa fully expected riots, but instead, she found followers, from all ranks and social levels. When she proclaimed a crusade against the Dominion, millions flocked to her, including her now loyal assassin.

  It took six months of nearly fourteen hours a day and thousands of engineers, programmers and scientists, but Deespa modified the beam weapon on the Harmoa. With gravity focusers she designed herself, and with the help of her every growing work crew, the weapon was redesigned. In their first real battle, over the
slave colony of Urt, the Harmoa had decisively destroyed six Dominion battler cruisers, the Dominion’s mainstay, in just ten minutes. The victory was complete and utter.

  The legend continued to grow.

  Her soldiers received new weapons and all of their ships began to get upgrades with technology no one had ever seen. For that, Deespa spent many days at consoles, designing and redesigning everything she could. She rarely slept and found that she didn’t need to at times. She felt amazing and was at times, filled with wonder at her own body. Within the shell of the Sentinel drone, she was constrained to the hardware, impressive as it was. But in this new body, there appeared to be no limits to what her mind could do. The more she pushed it, the more boundaries she broke. There were realms beyond even human consciousness that she was just beginning to unravel. There appeared to be nothing she could not understand, and then further expand on. By all human definitions, she was becoming a god.

  To her followers, she was that, and it was a hard myth to set aside. She designed her new combat mechs, and armed her own bodyguard unit, not that she needed one. She found that she enjoyed combat, and her mental and physical abilities continued to expand in bounds and leaps with every encounter. She could turn the tide of a battle with her mere appearance, and the stories of the power of the stars at her fingertips were told throughout the systems.

  The battle for Coran was over in space almost as quickly as it started. As the cheers rose in the bridge of the Harmoa, gunners targeted the old Dominion carrier, one of its only two, and sent a beam of gravity focused energy down the entire length of it. One of their best weapons in their fight against the rebel Queen was destroyed before it could even deploy its fighters and bombers. As the planetary batteries continued to pound the old Dominion fleet, the Harmoa and her own ships picked off stragglers while covering for the largest orbital troop assault in human history. Seven and a half million men and women and all their weapons and vehicles, descended upon Coran.