The Rising Darkness (Space Empires Book 1)

by Selby, Caleb

  ***

  The battered Defiant slowly took formation at the rear of the single file row of ships preparing to enter the Kumper warp-point. Forty-two crewmen shorter than prior to entering the asteroid field and severely damaged from her encounter there, the Defiant retained function of all primary systems and had fully functional engines and dampeners.

  Drezden stood in the front of his bridge in a melancholy daze looking out over the fleet before him. The warp-point painted the amassed vessels with blue light that made them shine like sapphires on black velvet cloth. Drezden watched in captivating awe as each ship slipped into the event horizon until only his ship was left.

  “Full ahead Lieutenant,” he ordered as he left the window and walked toward the door. “Steady as she goes.”

  “Aye, Sir,” Hoirs answered, followed by an unsteady lurch of the ship forward.

  Drezden left the bridge and walked down the bare hallway toward his room. The thoughts of his recently lost crewmembers weighed on his mind. He continually relived the events in his mind, wondering if there was something else he could have done, or a decision he should have made faster.

  “What does it matter now?” he said to himself dejectedly as he spotted a porthole and walked over to it. He leaned up against it and stared out into space. Blue and white streaks of light raced past the window so fast that it looked as if the Defiant was motionless on a sea of waves.

  Drezden shook his head and stepped away from the window. As he continued to walk toward his room he thought about where the fleet was headed. On the opposite side of the jump they were in, lay something far more tragic than the loss of forty-two crewmen.

  18. Kumper Graveyard

  Darion walked besides Kebbs, keeping a sharp eye for anything suspicious...which was essentially everything.

  “You ok there?” Kebbs asked after Darion ducked in response to a transport pod passing overhead. “You seem jumpy.”

  “Why would I be jumpy?” retorted Darion. “I’ve only spent the last day dodging missiles, laser fire, Sentinels and aliens I still don’t know the name of! Why would that make me jumpy?”

  “Well as long as you’re not jumpy,” Kebbs said and chuckled.

  “It would help if I understood more about these...these creatures we’re matched against,” said Darion. “As near as I can figure, they have the ability to appear as whatever they chose to be and can only be killed by weapons equipped with these adapters,” he said holding up the ring.

  Kebbs shrugged and glanced at Reesa. “That about sums up what I know.”

  “But who are they?” pressed Darion. “Why are they here and what do they want? And how did we get these adapters to fight them?”

  “I don’t know anything about them other than that they are bad news,” said Kebbs. “They mean us some serious harm.”

  Darion shook his head, not satisfied with the answer. “And the adapters?”

  “An invention of Professor Jabel,” Kebbs answered. “They emit high frequency light beams that are apparently fatal to the creatures but harmless to you and I.”

  “Which makes our weapons useless against Krohns when the adapter is attached,” Reesa spoke up. “So if you have a chance to pick up a secondary weapon it would be a good idea.”

  “Perfect,” Darion said with a roll of his eyes. “A weapon one way and a flashlight another. Terrific.”

  “Its the best we can do,” Kebbs said. “It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing. And believe me, our little skirmish back there would have ended a lot differently without them.”

  Darion looked at Reesa and then to Kebbs. “Who else knows about all of this? I mean, no offense, but it seems too big for just you guys to be working on this stuff. Where is the Defense Council in all of this? What about the intelligence agencies? Surely there must be more forces at play than us?”

  Kebbs glanced at Reesa who just shrugged. “As far as I know it’s just Professor Jabel, Admiral Fedrin, and us,” Reesa said.

  “Admiral Fedrin is in on all of this?” exclaimed Darion. “I thought he was a traitor. I thought he...”

  “Blew up the Sixth Fleet?” Reesa interjected. “All lies!”

  “Fedrin is one of the good guys,” Kebbs reaffirmed.

  “But President Defuria denounced him,” protested Darion. “They had video of him doing it!”

  “The clips were faked,” said Kebbs confidently. “And President Defuria is compromised,” he added gravely.

  “The president too?” exclaimed Darion in disbelief.

  Reesa nodded regretfully. “We can’t trust anyone. If the enemy finds out that we know something is up, they will take concerted steps to stop us. As it stands, we may have an element of surprise. If we lose that, we simply can’t win.”

  Darion nodded slowly as the magnitude of the threatening danger became more evident. He felt so small and insignificant as he imagined the might of the enemy forces stacked against them. How could they even hope to win? What point was there in even challenging such a machine? He tried to keep his pessimistic thoughts pushed back in his mind as they walked but it wasn’t easy. Little did he know that his worrisome thoughts were also foremost in the minds of his two companions. They too felt oppressed by the evil at hand but unlike their General, they had a plan to combat it and the will to just maybe succeed.

  The three walked on and on, crisscrossing and cutting through the massive city blocks in the direction of the identified safe house and archive storage center Reesa had discovered in her short but productive stint as Darion’s concierge.

  “So how exactly are we supposed to fix Clear Skies?” Darion asked when the group had walked in silence for sometime. “General or not, Clear Skies is, I’m afraid, out of my pay grade. The Codex maybe I can help you with, and I stress maybe, but Clear Skies? I think you two may have picked a bigger fight than you can handle with that one.”

  “It’ll be a challenge but we do have a plan,” answered Kebbs when it was apparent that Reesa had no intention of responding.

  “Which is?” pressed Darion.

  Kebbs glanced over his shoulder and then took a step nearer to Darion and spoke in a low tone. “Jabel is currently working with Admiral Fedrin to retrieve an unadulterated copy of the Clear Skies programming from the Voigt colony.”

  Darion closed his eyes and shook his head as if he had just missed a lot of back-story. “I’m sorry...what?” he asked.

  Kebbs waved his hand and smiled. “That really is a long story and I’m not sure I know it all myself. But as for your role in all of this, we need someone with the proper clearance to be at one of the deep space communication towers at the right time to accept the data burst from Fedrin. It’s really as simple as that.”

  Darion nodded slowly, knowing that the plan was anything but simple. “And just how exactly do you fit into all of this?” he asked glancing at Reesa as they continued to walk. “And no ignoring me this time. If you want me to help you the least you could do is talk to me.”

  “I used to be a special weapon’s operative for a private security company,” she answered reluctantly. “We operated in Asar space and kept tabs on the Refrac Pirates until about six months ago when the Northern Fleet took over all security of the sector. They fed us some line about “consolidating information and tactical readiness” but it’s been one big mess since they did it,” Reesa added with a shake of her head. “In our five years of operation, not one Refrac ship made a successful raid against our freight lines. Since the Northern Fleet took over, they’ve gotten through four times!”

  Kebbs shook his head and shrugged. “The company was her life. When she was let go she was basically homeless. Since heading back to her real home wasn’t an option, I asked her if she’d like to crash at my place, until she found her feet. She’s been there since.”

  Darion looked at Reesa. “So what about all that stuff about being a colonist and your parents? Was any of that true or was that a lie too?”

  Before Darion could res
pond or Kebbs could intervene, Reesa took hold of Darion by the collar and shoved him into a wall and thrust a finger in his face.

  “Don’t ever talk about my parents!” she demanded, her eyes flaring. “You don’t have the right! You haven’t worked eighteen-hour days for the last decade! You haven’t known what it was like to sacrifice! You haven’t had to decide which family member gets to eat for the day! The only amount of character you’ve been able to muster since I’ve known you came when you realized your gig as an overpaid do-nothing General was up and even then you had to be pushed to act! So don’t talk about my family until you’ve earned it! Got it!” she said and then slowly relaxed her hold.

  “What’s your problem?” Darion yelled as he caught his breath and took a shaky step after her. “You know I didn’t ask for this! I didn’t ask to be in the position! I didn’t ask to throw my lot in with you two! I chose to do it because you convinced me it was the right thing to do. Well guess what? I can change my mind anytime I want to! Got that! Anytime!”

  Kebbs placed a hand on Darion’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “She heard today on the telecast that a Krohn Fleet is heading toward the Voigt colony. She’s scared about her parents and about the data device there. I know it’s no justification for snapping at you that way but keep it in mind.”

  Darion looked at Kebbs’ hand on his shoulder and then angrily shrugged it off. “Your words would have more power if I didn’t see my brother’s face every time you spoke,” he said and then took a deliberate step away.

  On and on the three walked, Darion trailing Reesa while Kebbs took up the rear. No words were exchanged by any for hours other than ones unavoidable to their task at hand and even those were spoken with harsh tones and unforgiving expectations. The distance between each of the sojourners increased until Darion could barely see Reesa ahead or make out Kebbs’ silhouette behind. It was growing dark and the air began to fill with a cold sense of foreboding and loneliness, as the emptied city seemed to call out for anyone or anything to fill its vacant streets and desolate buildings.

  It was completely dark when the three travelers finally met up again and made a makeshift camp in a vacant transport stop. During their walk, they had each gathered several small items to eat, some from overturned food carts and others right off the shelves of abandoned grocers. They piled their collected rations together and ate a hasty meal in complete silence. When it was done they each retreated to a corner of the stop and tried to sleep, although it would come to none of them. After an hour or two of listening to each other toss back and forth Reesa’s voice broke the tense silence.

  “I’m sorry Darion,” her voiced cracked. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now and you were the nearest thing to take it out on. It wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.”

  A pause followed. “Most of the things you said were true,” said Darion in response. “But I’m working on it. Believe me, I’m working on it.”

  Reesa sighed contentedly before finding a position that afforded a modest amount of comfort and slowly drifted off to a light sleep.

  “I’ll take first watch then?” Kebbs said when he was sure Reesa was asleep so she wouldn’t try to take a shift, knowing that her ordeal as Armid’s prisoner had exhausted her beyond what either of the men had experienced.

  Darion didn’t answer. Kebbs looked over and spotted Darion huddled in a corner, his eyes closed and breathing rhythmically. He was already asleep.

  “I guess I’ll be taking both shifts then,” Kebbs said to himself as he settled in for what would be a long, quiet night.

  ***

  In turn, each vessel of the fleet burst out of the warp-point entering the Kumper Star System. As each ship decelerated and took position, their respective crews rushed to portholes, windows, and observation decks to look out at the site none wanted to see, but all were drawn to nonetheless. Some looked on in quiet horror. Some swore vengeance. Some were moved to tears at the sight of the ruins of the once glorious Second Fleet, the most powerful NPF fleet ever assembled.

  Massive cruisers, carriers, and destroyers alike, some marred beyond any recognition by even the most astute officers, spilt their mechanical bowels into the cold emptiness of space. Some lay pitched to one side still relatively intact, while others were split into a dozen large sections, scattered about the sector like the pieces of a child’s puzzle waiting to be assembled again.

  “Launch all fighters,” Commander Kendrick ordered immediately after receiving orders from the Iovara.

  “Right away, Sir,” replied Lieutenant Catrin as she turned to her station.

  “Have Deta wing remain with the fleet but have the rest move into the debris field,” added Kendrick as he walked up to the fighter squadron-monitoring platform.

  “Clarification of flight orders, Sir?” a squadron relay control officer asked the Commander.

  Kendrick nodded, his eyes piercing into the carnage before them. “Secure the area for the big ships to pass through. Whatever did this could still be out there,” he said just as the first squadron flew past the main window. “Analyze any and everything that looks suspicious. We have no room for error.”

  “Aye, Sir,” the officer answered and then turned back to his station.

  Ten minutes later the entire Hornell fighter contingent slowed as they neared the devastation. They gradually broke formation as they entered the debris field and began their task of securing the area so that the bulky capital ships could pass safely. The sight of the devastation was moving for many of the pilots as thousands of dead servicemen could be seen floating in and amongst the wrecked warships, disfigured, mangled and bloated beyond any recognition. But the pilots forged on, ignoring their instinct to gather the bodies and dispose of them with dignity and respect. They had a job to do and the living took precedence. The dead could wait.

  The lead pilot from Zeda squadron darted in and out of the wreckage, expertly dodging stray items and obstacles as he went about ensuring the safe passage of the Sixth Fleet. The nimble craft was just rounding what was left of the command tower of a mangled destroyer when something caught his attention near the stern of the Tribulation battle cruiser, the Second Fleet’s former flagship.

  The Tribulation was in better shape than many of the other vessels, which wasn’t saying much for most. Her superstructure was still intact, although there were several large gaping fissures spanning several decks while other notable structures were completely missing, giving the appearance that someone had taken several bites out of her and then tossed her back.

  The pilot adjusted a few instruments and then brought his fighter closer for a better look. He approached one of the larger holes, and then gently pulled the rear of his agile craft up in an attempt to peek inside the darkened crater-like hole.

  “This is Zeda flight leader to other group pilots. I’m investigating something in one of the openings at the aft of the Tribulation. I’m going to try and get a better look at it. Over.”

  “Do you need help Zeda Leader?” a pilot from Kormo squadron asked as he too began to approach the location.

  “Negative. Go back and keep scanning the rest of the debris. I don’t want any accidents. Flying space is tight over here.”

  “Copy that,” the other pilot answered and veered off.

  Zeda Leader coasted to the other side of the hole and lowered the nose of his fighter again to get a better view. He still couldn’t quite make out what he saw and he nudged his craft, ever so slightly, a little closer. He redirected his floodlights, until he could see it clearly. The sight sickened him.

  A large, ten man escape pod lay pitched to one side and the thick hatch leading out of the pod was conspicuously opened to space. Through the opened hatch the pilot counted nine dead officers within, all still wearing their restraining harnesses. But unlike the scores of other dead, bloated bodies littering the area, these nine looked eerily different. Each appeared to have been completely emptied of every drop of fluid within their bodies giving them
a dried, mummified appearance. Their skin stretched tightly over their skulls, outlining their eye sockets and jaws with such tautness that it looked as if it could rip through at any moment revealing the raw bone beneath. These men had not died of exposure to space, nor had they burned alive since their uniforms were not singed in the slightest. They had somehow gotten into the pod alive and had been killed by something from within.

  The pilot quickly snapped a dozen images of the horrific sight and promptly uploaded them to flight command.

  “Hornell Flight Command, this is Zeda Leader.”

  “Go ahead Zeda Leader.”

  “I just uploaded some images. I think the Commander will want to see them right away...maybe even the Admiral.”

  “Copy that Flight Leader.”

  “They aren’t pretty,” he added. “Something is very wrong here.”

  ***

  “Just three hours. That’s all I’m asking for Admiral. Just three hours!” Searle pleaded with Fedrin across his tele-link screen.

  Fedrin glanced around his room and then shook his head sadly. “I don’t have three hours to give you Commander,” he reluctantly replied. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just my cruiser then,” Searle protested. “Take the rest of the fleet on and we’ll undertake a system wide search and rescue.”

  “I need you and your ship with us in Sibid,” Fedrin answered firmly. “We don’t have firepower to spare and your cruiser’s big guns could change the tide in a tight battle. I’m sorry.”

  “But what if my husband is alive out there somewhere?” she pleaded as tears began to roll down her cheeks. “Doesn’t he deserve a chance to be found?”

  “Searle, please,” Fedrin said, in torment himself. “I would if I could. You know that, don’t you?”

  Searle wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and slowly nodded her head. “I know Fedrin. I know,” she whispered. “It’s just that...”

  “I know,” Fedrin quietly said, wishing he was with Searle to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Our job in Sibid is bigger then this right now. I’m so sorry.”