Right Ascension

by David Derrico

  Almost as if on cue, a bright beam of light flashed down from above, striking the fleeing Apocalypse and rocking the ship violently. The ship plunged toward the planet, momentarily breaking forth from the ring system before Zach stabilized the controls.

  “Rear armour integrity damaged, but within acceptable tolerances,” reported Dex, shaking his head. “And that was one of their secondary turrets. Whatever happened to the Vr’amil’een lagging behind us in energy weapon technology?”

  “Evidently they have learned quite a bit,” mused Anastasia. She looked toward Daniel, her eyes making it clear whom she thought was responsible for the newfound technological abilities of the Vr’amil’een.

  Another explosion rocked the ship, this time from a guided missile that had found its mark through the ring debris. Daniel’s display showed that two light and three heavy fighters still remained, though Dex continued to fire at them, aiming his shots carefully so as to conserve their limited ammunition supply. Of course, the fighters were the least of their problems.

  Another bright flash of light flared across the viewscreen, narrowly missing the darting ship. Though the ring system provided excellent cover, Daniel knew they could not hide there forever. The Supercruiser, still hovering over them, several hundred times their own mass, had to be disabled or destroyed.

  Luckily, Daniel had an idea.

  “Zach, take us up out of the ring system. Nathan, open a channel to the Supercruiser.”

  The Fedoran nodded when he had done so.

  “Vr’amil’een Supreme Commander, this is the Apocalypse,” Daniel began, his voice and demeanor calm and deliberate. “Hold your fire. We surrender. I repeat—we surrender.”

  The mouths of his crew dropped in unison. Dex was the first to protest verbally.

  “Admiral, with all due respect—”

  “Calm down, Dex,” Daniel assured him. “I’ll surrender to them the day I pick a fight with a Vamalian in heat.”

  A gruff, disembodied voice came over the bridge speakers, translated by the computer. “[Apocalypse, we accept surrender. Will be escorted into hangar bay. Power down weapons and engines now.]”

  Daniel nodded and Dex did as he was told, powering down the requested systems. The Vr’amil’een scanners, reading the Apocalypse’s already lowered energy levels, would surely think they were almost completely powered down.

  The remaining fighters surrounded the ship as the huge Supercruiser descended on the Apocalypse, a giant foot crashing down upon a helpless insect. A gaping hole opened in the ship’s underbelly, directly above the Apocalypse, and the Supercruiser, once again exhibiting surprising maneuverability, swallowed the tiny ship into its hangar bay. The outer doors snapped closed and the Apocalypse, humanity’s last real hope for survival, was trapped within the belly of the Vr’amil’een flagship.

  CHAPTER 19

  With engines and shields off-line, Daniel was left to listen to a bridge so silent he could actually hear the silence. It took nearly a minute for Anastasia to speak up.

  “Daniel? I know you know what you are doing, but …”

  “What gave you that idea?” he quipped, but the upturned edge of his lip meant that Admiral Atgard, as usual, knew exactly what he was doing. After all, he knew the Vr’amil’een Commander would not be able to pass up the opportunity to capture Dex alive and bring him back to Tu’oth’roor for a suitable public torture and execution.

  “Admiral,” Nathan interjected. “We have an incoming communication from our captors.”

  “On-screen.”

  The viewscreen quickly resolved to show a particularly bulky and ominous Vr’amil’een officer, sitting in the captain’s chair once inhabited by Le Jaunte. He spit his words quickly, and though they were again translated by the computer, their original virulence was not lost. “[The human known as Dex Rutcliffe will exit ship now. The rest will power down ship and wait for further instructions.]”

  Just as suddenly as it had begun, the transmission was over.

  “Well, Dex,” said the Admiral, “I guess we had better do as they say.”

  Dex gulped audibly, and his expression, though not exactly indicative of fear, nonetheless showed more than a hint of concern.

  • • •

  The Apocalypse’s entry/exit ramp, located below the bridge on the underside of the ship’s nose, opened with an almost inaudible whirr, lowering itself to the rough composite deck of the spacious hangar bay. Through the opening several fighters could be seen, some dormant and some hovering in flight, no doubt completely surrounding the ship. In front of them, arrayed before the exit hatchway, were several dozen armed Vr’amil’een guards. Their weapons, bulky devices half the size of a man, were uniformly aimed at the hatchway’s opening. None of them moved or spoke as they awaited Dex’s arrival.

  A soft, metallic ping sounded through the now-pressurized hangar bay. A second later, it began to repeat itself, growing slightly in intensity. The sounds, ever-growing in volume, came closer and closer together, until a large, ovoid metallic ball bounced down the hatchway and onto the hangar bay floor, rolling toward the assembled guards like a metallic bowling ball.

  Instantly, the hangar erupted into chaos as both the scattering guards and the surrounding fighters fired savagely at the Apocalypse. Within an instant, the bay was awash with laser fire and filled with projectiles of all sizes, the ricochets bouncing off the Apocalypse’s hull and wreaking havoc on the assembled guards.

  Leaping from the deck like a jungle cat, the Apocalypse spun toward the hangar bay door and released a vicious salvo of lasers and missiles that disintegrated the door instantly, sending several more guards shooting out the opening to their deaths. Before the smoke had even cleared, the Apocalypse had rocketed out the opening with several fighters in close pursuit. Only a few moments later, there was a colossal explosion from deep within the Supercruiser’s belly, as the high-yield nuclear device the Apocalypse had planted blew the hangar bay and half of the stunned flagship into oblivion.

  Zach, Anastasia, and even Nathan simultaneously let out shouts of glee, while Dex steadfastly continued firing upon the remaining fighters still trailing the Apocalypse. Daniel was diligently studying the tactical displays, scanning the charred hulk of the Supercruiser, which spun slowly along its long axis, air and debris from its gaping wound bleeding uncontrollably into the void.

  Daniel stared closely at the viewscreen, his keen eyes narrowing to tiny slits. The ship’s uncontrolled rotation had begun to slow. Within a few moments, Daniel could tell that the ship was stabilizing itself, and he could see that the torrent of debris flowing from its belly had also diminished. Slowly at first, undoubtedly meant to look like nothing more than a random movement, the Vr’amil’een Supercruiser, far from dead, began to turn, bringing its deadly nose cannon to bear on the tiny Apocalypse.

  • • •

  Daniel stared at the screen, watching the slowly-turning Supercruiser carcass as it somehow maneuvered itself into position despite its heavy damage. The entire bottom portion of the hull had been blown away by the blast, and a crater-shaped indentation scarred the enormous beast’s underbelly. Showers of sparks and jets of flame shot from the wound, and a cloud of debris, blown from the ship by the explosion, began to settle toward the planet, possibly to join Saturn’s impressive ring system.

  A short alarm tone rang out, jarring Daniel’s concentration. The bridge lights suddenly dimmed, and, though it was not immediately evident, Daniel realized that several other systems had been either diminished or completely disabled.

  “Auxiliary power failing, sir,” reported Dex, as though the Admiral did not realize the significance of the alarm. “Auxiliary reserves at ten percent. Shields, energy weapons, and propulsion are all off-line.”

  Daniel hastily punched the intercom. “Darren, reroute emergency power to the engines. I need all possible speed right away.”

  “There’s not enough left in the emergency reserves,” replied Darren, his voice strained. “I j
ust can’t squeeze you anything else, sir—our energy banks are as dry as a Sylargian desert at high noon.”

  “So we have no propulsion ability whatsoever?”

  “Well, sir, we do have maneuvering thrusters,” he said, sounding deeply apologetic, though their current predicament was certainly no fault of his own. “Other than that, I’d have to get out and push, but you give the word and I’ll get my old bones out there, sir.”

  Daniel could not help but smirk, though—or perhaps because—the old engineer did not intend the remark to be humorous in any way. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Darren. You just keep the oxygen flowing as long as possible.”

  “If we don’t get out of the way of that Supercruiser,” interjected Anastasia solemnly, “it won’t matter if we have life support or not.”

  Daniel turned to the screen to see that the hulking ship’s rotation speed had increased. Another few seconds, and the Apocalypse would be staring down the massive barrel of the ship’s nose cannon.

  “Everyone grab onto something,” said Daniel, his words carrying over the intercom into the engineering bay as well. “This is going to be very bad.”

  With his left hand, Daniel hastily called up the weapons inventory on his display, selecting a concussion warhead from the list that appeared. With his right hand, he popped up the auxiliary control stick, and, utilizing the still-functional maneuvering thrusters, angled the nose of the ship downward a few degrees. He set the delay fuse on the warhead to a mere half-second, though that would mean that the missile would barely clear the Apocalypse’s rear missile tubes before it exploded.

  Daniel thumbed the firing stud and there was an almost instantaneous muffled explosion and a violent jolt as the missile’s expanding concussion wave forced the Apocalypse out of its way. The surge propelled the spinning ship forward and downward, pushing it below the Supercruiser’s immense nose. Though the inertial dampeners were again inconveniently off-line, Daniel had already begun to use judicious bursts from the maneuvering thrusters to bring the ship’s rotation under control.

  “Dex, target their main power supply,” he ordered.

  “Sir, I’ve been scanning the vessel—its redundancy systems are incredible. I’m getting power readings from all over the ship.”

  “Very well,” he replied. “Then target their main power coupling unit.”

  A florescent green targeting mark appeared on the viewscreen. Snaking its way along the underbelly of the ship, it suddenly stopped and flashed a bright crimson. As soon as it had changed, Daniel thumbed the firing stud, sending a salvo of missiles toward the ship. “This had better work,” he mumbled.

  “How many missiles did you fire?” asked Dex.

  “All of them,” he replied.

  Turning back to the viewscreen, the Admiral could see that bright balls of fire had begun to erupt within the exposed underside of the Supercruiser as missile after missile—seventeen in all—hurtled into the crater. By the time the barrage had ended, a screen of smoke obscured most of the ship, and another debris cloud had started to form.

  The ship was motionless for several seconds, before a series of smaller explosions began within the ship’s hull. When they had ended, the Supercruiser went completely dark, hovering lifelessly above Saturn and her magnificent rings.

  Daniel exhaled audibly, slumping back in his chair and releasing the restraining harness. Peripherally, he glanced at his tactical display to find several ships from the Confederation Fleet, apparently having already dispatched the remainder of the Vr’amil’een Armada, rushing toward them, undoubtedly to help the tiny Apocalypse fight the enormous Supercruiser.

  “Just in time,” muttered Anastasia sarcastically, but Daniel was too tired to even chuckle.

  CHAPTER 20

  The Admiral stepped through the airlock, disembarking the crippled Apocalypse and entering the relatively spacious orbital repair dock. His crew followed behind him, each carrying little more than a small bag of personal effects. Daniel knew that although the Apocalypse would receive top priority for repairs, her damage was extensive and would probably take over 48 hours to repair completely, 48 hours that seemed like an eternity with the faceless Lucani Ibron still wandering the stars in search of the Apocalypse. It was only a matter of time before they either found them, or, even worse, decided to ignore them to concentrate on obliterating Earth.

  The inside of the domed spacedock was a chaos of men and machines, as techs scrambled to work on the plethora of wounded vessels and repair droids carried supplies, welded metals, and diagnosed electrical problems. The interior of the spacedock was a large, rounded room, with a high domed ceiling that arched upward to an apex 50 meters in the air. Airlocks and access ports ringed the structure, where as many ships as could fit were tethered around the circumference of the station. The center of the room was dominated by four enormous elevator tubes that served to transport materials from the supply rooms below.

  Sidling up to the Admiral unnoticed amidst the chaos, a tall man in a casual tech uniform offered Daniel his hand.

  “Hello, Admiral,” he began, speaking quickly. “I’m Devorak Lipinski, and I’m pretty much in charge here.” He turned to look at the chaos behind him and added, “If you can rightfully say anyone is in charge of this mess.”

  “I’m sure it looks more unorganized than it actually is,” Daniel offered.

  Devorak smiled. “Yes, and I can assure you, Admiral, that the Apocalypse will receive our highest priority and my own personal attention. You have my word on it. Now, if you would excuse me, a transport is waiting to take you down to Earth. You will of course be notified the instant the repairs are complete.”

  “Thank you,” replied the Admiral, but before he could continue, Devorak had already nodded and begun on his way.

  “Looks like he has everything under control,” remarked Anastasia from beside him as they wended their way to the airlock at which the transport was waiting. “But what are we supposed to do while we wait for the repairs?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we’ll keep busy, Anastasia,” he said, entering the airlock. “There is much I plan to find out in the next couple of days.”

  • • •

  As the bulky transport descended toward the landing pad, Daniel sedately realized that this was the first time in recent memory that he was arriving at the ConFedCom Capitol building when he was not in some sort of trouble. He fingered a key on his nanocomputer, completing a transmission, and realized that his good status would not last for long.

  After the ship had landed and discharged its passengers, a small group of men bounded toward the landing platform.

  “Admiral Atgard,” called the lead man cheerfully. “Admiral Atgard, I would like to thank you on behalf of—”

  “Where is the President?” Daniel asked, cutting off the man, whose jaw hung open in surprise at the affront. Daniel was simply not in the mood to be thanked.

  “Well, he–he’s meeting with the Command Committee,” the man stammered. “But I’m sure he wants to thank you personally just as soon as—”

  “Thank you,” said the Admiral, and with that, he walked past the man toward the tall Capitol building.

  Anastasia hurried to follow him. “Who was that?” she asked.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Daniel responded. “I need to talk to Stadler now.”

  Anastasia smirked ominously. “I don’t want to miss that.”

  Walking wordlessly past the guards, Daniel entered the waiting transport tube and punched the button for the Central Meeting Hall, which was only a few floors beneath the surface. The transport tube descended quickly, and Daniel stepped out and was met by a well-guarded pair of thick wooden double doors.

  Daniel simply began to walk past the guards, one of whom stepped in his path. “I’m sorry, Admiral, but there is a meeting in session. I can’t let you through just yet.”

  “Then shoot me,” Daniel replied sardonically, brushing past the guard and violently throwing
open both heavy doors.

  The murmur of conversation in the meeting room hushed instantly as Daniel and Anastasia entered. Seated behind a podium at the head of the room was President Stadler. The guard followed them in, apologizing. “I’m sorry, Mr. President—they just burst through …”

  The President dismissed the guard with an absent wave of his hand. “That’s alright. We all owe the Admiral a debt of gratitude. Daniel, I—”

  “Screw my debt of gratitude,” shot the Admiral furiously. “Just tell me—did you know?”

  “Know? Know what?” stammered the President. “Daniel, I realize you seem to be very upset, but—”

  “If you realized how upset I was, you would answer my question,” was the Admiral’s icy reply.

  “Perhaps we could speak in private?” asked the President.

  Silently agreeing, the Admiral walked toward President Stadler, who led him and Anastasia through a doorway and into a private meeting room adjacent to the large meeting hall.

  “Now, Daniel, I am grateful for your fine work, but this is simply uncalled for,” Stadler began. “What could be so urgent as to interrupt me in the middle of a meeting with the Command Committee?”

  Daniel reached into his pocket and produced a data disc. “Play it,” he ordered.

  William looked at the Admiral quizzically. “Very well, Daniel. I hope it’s important.”

  The Admiral’s fists clenched.

  Walking over to a computer unit on the wall, Stadler inserted the data disc, causing the computer to project a two-dimensional picture into the air before them.

  The image was that of the bridge of the Indomitable, and as Stadler watched the tape, Daniel carefully watched him.

  “So you knew,” Daniel said as soon as the recording was complete. “You bastard.”

  “Yes, Daniel, I knew. But before you judge me, please remember I was 33 years old when this occurred. I had not even entered politics yet. I am no more guilty for this than you yourself are.”