“Alice. I was told to inform you that Councilman Tate is urgently requesting your attention in the Council chambers.” The lyrical voice of Project interrupted her thoughts.
“Fine. Tell him I’m on my way.” Alice replied.
Her journey took her through the main market area, where the sounds of commerce were everywhere. It was amazing that this military installation acted like a buzzing city at its depths instead of the regimented outpost it was designed to be. She assumed the normal pleasures of humanity had to be offered somewhere, or they’d soon forget their why. Without a why, a soldier was nothing more than an automaton with a gun and knife and told to kill. Killing was not easy, and those who had engaged in it never come out the same way they started. For her it was the opposite, it was the sight of death that had turned her into a killer. The natural talent was within her the entire time, watching her husband die was the quickest way to bring that out in her. The first kill she’d ever made was barely memorable to her, as it wasn’t as important as the first death she’d witnessed to murder. Her father had died of some disease long before the battles had begun stacking casualties like paperwork, so his death had only brought grief and not unbearable rage. Alex’s death had come gift-wrapped with guilt and mind-numbing anger. It had fueled her bloodlust and made her effective at what she had claimed must be her purpose in life. The apparatus had been forged by the fires of the Birthplace, but she was forged by the blood spilt on fabricated steel.
Alice grabbed a transport and made her way to the Council chamber without incident, her com-link quiet. Robert was sitting down, wearing a blackened suit that was in direct contrast to the pure one he’d worn on previous meetings. He gestured for her to sit, his arm outstretched in the gesture. She followed his command and sat directly across from him, separated by the glossed surface of the table.
“Took you long enough. Did the word “urgent” finally catch your attention?” Tate said.
“No. I don’t care about urgency. I care about getting this done, and I finally found the mindset to listen. I’d have been a terrible conversationalist beforehand.” Alice said.
“Fair enough. Listen, there’s been a lot of chatter on the channels. It looks like the Demon is preparing something, there is a fair number of warships heading his direction. They have departure dates leaning towards a day before your ship is to arrive. I’ve decided that it was best to postpone the mission, as those warships won’t be far enough out of your space to not fear them returning once the assault begins. We need to know what they are planning.” Robert said, his gaze leveled directly at her eyes. Alice looked down at the table, not wanting to connect with him when her mind was ablaze with thoughts.
“No.” Alice said, not looking up.
“What?” Robert returned, his voice was laden with anger at the disrespect though it was in check.
“No. If the warships are heading away from the Dungeon, that means they will have to be relayed information over the sub-space channels which we will be able to lock down. If they’re traveling at full pace away from the Dungeon it will be harder to reach them. I’m no expert in sub-space communication, but you’re free to correct me.” She challenged.
“You’re correct. But doesn’t it concern you that the warships will be so close?” Robert’s voice leveled some
“They don’t bother me with their proximity. They bother me with their intent. If the Demon has called in warships for some unknown objective, then it’s important that we figure out what that objective is. The only way to know is to get the Library and access to the Demon’s logs. Then we can know for certain where they are headed. Maybe I’m not the only one with open war on the mind.” Alice said.
“Possibly. Fine. Continue ahead with the mission, but I’m keeping the Tower in full operational defense. Remember, if my capital ships get caught up doing something else, I may not be able to get you a ride home.” Robert said.
“Warning accepted.” Alice stated, standing up and dismissing herself from the Council chambers. She pondered the exact implications of the warships and what the Demon could be doing with them. This is exactly why they needed to act, she told herself. There is no reason to keep playing a game they could end at any moment. If they didn’t strike first, the Corporation would and the rebellion would have to play response. This was not a position an inferior enemy wanted to face with a foe like the Corporation. They had superior firepower and numbers, and this wasn’t going to be a fair fight if Alice didn’t do something to light off the powder keg. They had to strike first, she wasn’t going to sit there and discuss strategy or politics with the old man any longer. They would leave as planned tomorrow, and do what was necessary for the survival of the human and race and for the rebellion. Humanity was never meant to be locked in a cage and under the control of a foreign power, a power that had no idea what it meant to be human. They had different experiences, different viewpoints, and different desires. They used a boogie-man ghost story of this mythical Calamity to confuse and terrify the humans and Alice was no longer going to allow them to do so. It was time to ride and break the storm.
Chapter 12
The Lost Hope tore through space with incredible speeds, never once slowing down. There was no bridge in this warship, not really. It was like a giant sword cutting through space and time and ripping open the material to expose what was inside. The control room was nestled in the center of the warship where the Demon now sat in his uncomfortable chair, his back aching from the effort. On either side of him, his two loyal Inquisitors stood, ignoring the pain of prolonged standing. The Demon looked at the ship’s captain, Captain Kri’Lan. Kri’Lan was merely seventeen and yet he controlled the most decorated warship in the sector. The Lost Hope was made with one purpose in mind, and that was the death of the Corporations enemies though it had not seen battle in at least a century. It had arrived at one of the early battles, but the battle had ended before it had slowed down enough to engage. It had a history of doing that, at least during the Rebel Conflict as this engagement had been named. Kri’Lan had a habit of misjudging the vectors and timing for his arrival and never quite made it when the battle was still going on. Why the HQ had decided to keep him in command of this ship, the Demon couldn’t fathom. It wasn’t a real important thing anyways, but it would have made a great article in his Library.
“Captain, when will the other two ships join us? They will have an entire fleet waiting for us on the other end of our trip and I want to be ready in case they decide to retaliate.” The Demon said, his voice darker and more serious than typical. The inquisitors at his side shifted to have the captain in their sights, in case he needed a reminder of who was in charge.
“The other two ships will be meeting with us when we pause to recharge the reactors, Demon.” Kri’Lan spat out the word, it was obvious he was not pleased at being commandeered for such a reckless mission. The Demon’s paperwork was immaculate and pristine, with no chance to refute the command. Kri’Lan would have much rather continued his patrol on the eastern planets and waited for the Calamity to strike the other side of the galaxy while enjoying the culture of polygamy on a nearby moon. He had seven wives there, and all of them made him feel like the hero of legends. Here he actually had to prove he was worth something other than simply acting like he was. His mentor had taught him within the first years of training that the best soldiers acted the best not actually did the best. He sighed audibly and got a sideways glance from Demon.
“Fine. But we cannot progress towards our destination without firing support. I want the two ships to flank the station and this ship to have all weapons aimed to for the kill shot. You have the structural plans of the station and know where to shoot, correct?” Demon said.
“Yes, yes. Listen, I know you outrank me but do we have to continue with this discussion. I’m quite bored with this flight already.” Kri’Lan said. It was obvious in his posture, his brown hair was over his squat face and he was leaning with his face half-buried into his palms. He w
as nearly laying down in the chair, his feet propped up on an ottoman (that had no business in a control room) and he was slouched with such practiced laziness even the Demon was impressed. Of all the ships that had to be nearby it was this one, Demon sighed with exasperation to himself. The most decorated ship for past glories, yet now it was run by a lazy kid. The ship’s impressive resume wasn’t why he’d chosen it though, it was the weaponry. There was a fairly new type of weapon recently installed into The Lost Hope and it would prove to be a boon against a fully armed space station surrounded by an armada. Demon wondered if he was being a bit arrogant taking three warships in an effort to threaten The Tower, but he thought maybe he’d have been fine with one. Now that was arrogant!
Demon didn’t dignify the child with a response, instead turning his headset on and diving deep into the Library. Oh yes, he’d definitely have a new article to write on Kri’Lan and The Lost Hope. The kid didn’t have access to the Library anyways, so he’d never get a chance to read the hilarious obituary that Demon was writing him right now. The kid’s epitaph would say
“Pissed off the Demon, God ignored him.”
He laughed. He started laughing so hard that the kid stared at him in confusion. The petty officers at their various stations looked back but only boredom and vague interest could be seen on their faces. They didn’t move themselves from their stations as they watched, they were there simply to do their jobs. They had no loyalty to the Commander or the Captain, but rather to their families and the limited loyalty purchased by their paychecks. When the Demon’s gaunt arm produced a small device from his ornamental cloak and black-grey armor they did nothing but watch. A foul clicking sound echoed throughout the chamber as a star spewed forth from the demon’s hand. Sapphire light poured from the device and formed hypnotic patterns of floating butterflies. Crackling sounds replaced the click as the swarm of glowing butterflies consumed the Captain, Kri’Lan barely spitting out a curse before they wrapped him in their superheated embrace. All at once and never again, Kri’Lan’s existence was summed up in a single dying curse. Every bit of him negated from existence by a superior source of energy. The butterflies vanished from sight and the acrid smell of decay assailed the control room. A few cries of surprise and a flurry of vomiting technicians was the Demon’s reward for his act of treason. He stood from his non-ergonomic chair tossed a piece of fabric to the leftmost inquisitor. The creature shouldered its nightmarish staff and snagged the fabric out of air, going to work and dusting what remained of Kri’Lan from the chair. The Demon never stopped laughing as he plopped himself down upon the chair and into a satisfying laying down position.
His back pain eased up a bit and he felt he could finally relax. The crew immediately cleaned themselves up and went back to work. The Corporation never really promoted via violence, but it was clear that not everyone agreed with a more “open-door” or humane method of hierarchy in the system. The Demon would not be the first nor last Commander to tire of an inferior or superior’s crap and simply snuff them out of existence, he would however be the first to use plasma-constructed butterflies to do it. He liked to think he would be the last as well, it would be a complete shame for someone else to steal his unique style. His laughter stopped as he corrected himself and went back to the article he had been writing. It occurred to him, this was the second time he’d used God in an article in recent days. He pondered that. The Corporation never believed in anything greater than themselves, not for lack of faith but more for lack of relevance. It didn’t matter if they believed or not, the survival of their race depended on violent and oftentimes cruel means. And they were never around long enough to really enjoy everything about life, so if death offered them some form of second chance than he’d deal with it then.
It had surprised him that throughout the cultures he’d cataloged that so many had written similar stories of a God and a martyr. Some had aid that must mean it was true, but to him it was more of a coincidence that depicted the plight of mortality. Humans weren’t much different than Corporation, or Ajaxian, or Totixians. Really and truly they were all mortal creatures with the same mortal fixations about life, food, shelter, sex and every other material concept. They all were the same on the inside just wearing different skin-suits, right? He had awoken to an intellectual level that other Corporation men and women would be terrified to be at, and they had all the right to be terrified of it. He had studied cultures and religions and technology that still seemed impossible to him. All the histories of the different races and sectors of the galaxies were fascinating but mired in similarities. But of all the cultures he studied, humans impressed him the most. It was for that reason that they had not been removed from existence and despite the fact they insisted on rebellion he was glad they had not been. He had a feeling that until they knew exactly what the Calamity was they would need some sort of help. The other races had diseases, mutations, and other physical defects that kept them from being useful. Allergic to oxygen when the Corporation had found out how to make virtually any atmosphere breathable, for example was one of the reasons the Ajaxians had been terminated. The other of course the fact that a single mother produced over 30 offspring a year didn’t help.
“Capta-Commander.” Said one of the techs from his console.
“Commander is fine. Or whatever. I don’t care.” Demon responded.
“Our sensors are showing a good deal of high speed travel. The unidentified vessels will cross around us somewhere, but seem to be heading towards where we just left.” The young technician said, his reddish hair dropping into his eyes as he talked.
“So? Why would I care?” Demon said. Giving the technician a terrifying scowl. The technician shrunk back in his chair, nodding and turning back to his console. The Demon laughed as he was wont to do. He pondered the information for a moment before deciding he didn’t care. There was plenty of traffic moving in and out of this sector of space and it made complete sense that someone else would be heading towards the Dungeon or one of the many planets around it. He had no patrols coming in or any freight, but he supposed it was exactly as he thought. There were 9 planets in his system and he more than one of them had inhabitants. He finally shrugged it off and closed his eyes, an old man could get the rest he was wanting. As he started to drift to sleep, he wondered if he could push it and grab a couple hours instead of one. He wanted to be well rested before he embarrassed the Councilman and his silly armada after-all.
Alice stood at the bridge of her own ship, watching the radars bleep as a few other ships slipped near them going just as fast. Milly relayed the information to Alice, but she was expecting this. There was something in her guts that told her that the requested warships were headed towards the Tower. It didn’t matter to her, she doubted they’d advance upon the space station and its armada with so little firepower. Yes a Corporation warship had some impressive firepower, but it wasn’t going to be enough once the armada started swimming circles around the warships and ripping them apart like a bleeding lamb tossed in a sea of sharks.
“Milly, I need status on all of our fire teams. Let them know they need to be in the drop pods and ready to go an hour out.” Alice said, gulping down more of her favorite flavored sludge. The energy content provided her more of a boost than she thought it would, shaking the remaining parts of jittery fear and entangling sleep from her body.
“Of course Alice. Hero already gave me a report. All weapons are ready to go. The final decision is the type of heavy weapon you want each crew to carry. Maximum chaos or maximum effectiveness?” Milly asked. The question was sort of silly but quite important. If they wanted chaos they’d equip every heavy weapons fighter with ground to air missiles to take out structures and flying defenses. That sort of explosive always gathered attention especially if it knocked a building down around a city block. Effectiveness however would only come from a fast-firing weapon like a Lightning turret. The Lightning’s used regular combustion slug-fire combined with explosive tipped ammunition to spew a few
hundred rounds a second over a heavily saturated area. It could tear buildings, tanks, and people to shreds with little fear of reprisal. It was the ultimate weapon for pinning and chewing.
“Take the Lightning’s in half the squads and the missiles in the others. I want to make sure any Heli’s are taken down in the first few moments of the conflict. I don’t want my men slaughtered.” She said, pondering her answer.
“Ok Captain.” Milly said, giving her a childish grin and turning back to her work. Alice smelled the fear coming from the young scientist. She’d spent a good portion of time equipping Hero with a few new systems in his armor to make him a bit harder to kill. While Alice appreciated a good apparatus set-up, she was pretty sure the intent of the armor was entirely selfish. Milly didn’t want to lose her new boyfriend yet, and Alice couldn’t blame her. Her heart didn’t beat any faster now when she thought of the romance she’d experienced before, but the remorse and longing was still there. She hoped for Hero’s sake that he could make it back to Milly. The girl was liable to come up with a way to bring him back from the dead if he disappointed her.
Alice found her chair and sat down, attempting to relax with her own thoughts as she inventoried the weapons and everything else they’d gathered from the Tower. She’d never had time to ask about the secret project the girls were working on and she couldn’t get any further in her conversation with Project. Project was exactly as she figured, very self-centered. He’d come up with a thousand different ways to combat the A.I.’s present on the Dungeon station and a dozen more ways to interrupt their sub-space communications. She wondered what else he was thinking about, something in the way he spoke to her seemed off. Maybe he disagreed with her tactical decisions but he never expressed concern in the strategies she’d cooked up. He even agreed that she would be the best one to differ to when it came to small arms and ground fighting. She was surprised by this, but equally delighted.
Rebellion (Rebel Wars Book 1) Page 10
