Doubting himself, he had given the computer the frequency for the wisps and instructed it to scan and monitor the camp. Sure enough, there were five wisp signatures in camp.
Even though the evidence was staring him right in the face, he found it difficult to believe. But still. They were definitely not Praxian signatures.
Even Boxy’s and the power plant’s signatures were identified as wisp. So maybe he hadn’t gone mad after all. Something must’ve happened to Brem and Jera while they were out in the jungle somewhere. Either way, they certainly weren’t Brem and Jera anymore.
And whatever it was that happened to them, they had brought it back to camp. Grex was deeply frightened and distraught at this realization. But still his mind was filled with shocked disbelief. What was happening, was it really happening? What had he done?
The shuttle reached space.
For as long as he could remember, the view had always taken his breath away. Even growing up in a space-faring civilization, and living with the reality of space travel all his life, he’d never quite gotten used to it.
The wonder, beauty and potential for infinite possibilities always struck him, no matter how many times he’d seen it and no matter his frame of mind at the time. Except for today...
Kryxo was on one of his displays. Beautiful, but getting smaller and smaller as the shuttle moved further away en route to the fleet. For Grex, the beauty of the place belied a hidden menace, a new unknown and unforeseen terror that had to be stopped at all costs, before it was too late.
He instructed the computer to continue monitoring the camp using the satellite in orbit. It should still be in sensor range when he reached the fleet in about fifteen minutes or so.
Grex set about gathering evidence and started by expanding the monitoring to include all of Kryxo as with before. The monster’s network was displayed. It looked different.
It appeared to have grown only slightly larger, but it was definitely much denser, more complex and intricate than before. It must’ve gone through some sort of transformation since he last observed it, Grex thought.
He knew he had about a minute to gather his case and prepare his thoughts before the navy contacted him. His mind was racing, desperately trying to find a way to not make himself sound crazy. That was going to be hard... “There’s an energy monster down there on the moon.” – Seriously?
He could almost hear the bridge officers bursting out in laughter while they targeted weapons to put him out of his misery. Grex’s stomach churned. Only a moment later, he was hailed by the navy.
A pristine and modern military bridge with full crew complement, all busy at their stations, appeared on his view screen. For Grex, the scene carried a very imposing and powerful weight.
“This is the Imperial Flagship, Imperial Dawn. State your identity and reason for approaching the Imperial fleet”, asked a young comms officer.
Good God, the Dawn. It is literally the tip of the spear of the fleet. Is this really happening, am I really doing this? thought Grex.
“I... uh...” Grex hesitated nervously. Then he gave himself a massive mental slap. No! Now was not the time to be fucking up. Keep it together man! he thought to himself.
“My name is Grex Truxa, I’m team leader of the Imperial Natural Society’s Kryxo expedition,” Grex, still visibly shaken, said with more confidence, “I’ve come to warn you. You need to destroy Kryxo.”
“You want us to do what?” asked a man, smiling. He appeared to be the first officer, “What’s gotten you so spooked, man?”
“There’s something down there, some sort of electrical being… some sort of monster”, Grex replied.
There was a brief pause, after which point the entire bridge erupted in laughter.
The first officer lifted a hand and the laughter stopped as quickly as it had started. Somber expressions returned to the crew’s faces. He gave an instruction to a nearby ensign.
Grex was so transfixed in the moment that he had failed to notice what had been happening on the display monitoring Kryxo.
A tall middle-aged man, finely dressed in an admiral’s uniform, entered the bridge. He had a haggard and serious expression on his face. The crew’s body language visibly stiffened. Grex recognized him instantly.
He’d seen that man a thousand times before on the media channels. This was none other than Admiral Trellu Teblaxi Prox, one of the most celebrated and decorated admirals in Imperial history.
***
The Admiral had lost his wife and four children in the terrorist attack on Praxima Prime and had been swept up, along with everybody else, in the military revenge campaign on the Axari home world.
There had been no time to grieve or to analyze what had been the true motivations behind the attack, as rage, urgency and the thirst for revenge and the consuming demands, rigors and responsibilities of the campaign, fleet, analysis of the enemy, their defenses and capabilities and drawing up plans to defeat them; had blotted out all else.
But in the few minutes of alone time he had every day; he had been fighting another hidden enemy that threatened to consume him, if he let it – grief. For a time, he had kept it down with thoughts of service, the lives he was responsible for, raging anger, revenge and plans for war.
He was born and raised military and was now, as a result of the attack, last in the proud and distinguished long line of military men in his family.
A descendant of the great general Retsa Prox, who played a decisive role in the formation of the Imperium many hundreds of years ago, it had been expected of him to follow in the footsteps of his father and his father before him.
As he doubted that he’d ever have a son again, it was clear that the buck and long legacy had finally stopped with him.
After the Axari had been eliminated and when the rage had momentarily run out of steam, he was left feeling stunned and empty. It seemed that there was no threatening grief to keep under control anymore.
But, for a time, he felt like he had no emotions, that he was just an empty husk, drifting though each day on dumbfounded autopilot and floating above an endless abyss, that threatened to pull him in and make him feel the pain; but somehow hadn’t yet.
Then one day it hit him out of nowhere with a force that kicked the wind out of him. Braxa, the first officer on the Dawn, had, in casual conversation, mentioned something that his little girl had done during their weekly vid-call.
He couldn’t wait to excuse himself and quickly retreated to his quarters. He had finally been pulled into the abyss and what followed was a dark and long period of immense and overwhelming grief and pain.
He had met his Evia at the navy ball in his second year at the academy, her mysterious beauty and gaze had captured him instantly from across the room.
Their anniversary just recently passed, they’d been happily married for thirty years; her strength of character, support and unique insights, had been like a beacon of light in stormy seas – bringing hope, normalcy and sanity into his life. She had borne them four amazing children, one of which had just recently given birth to their first grandchild.
And together, they had what most people called the perfect marriage and family – she and the children had been his life, a blessing and a gift – the force that kept him going, his reason for living. He never dreamt of life without them. Now they were gone.
Their lives brutally snuffed out in an instant.
The beacon of light was shattered, casting him adrift in a violent sea of deep sadness, furious anger, loneliness and despair. If only he had one more moment with them... To speak to his beloved Evia one last time... But he was a mass murderer now, the taker of innocent lives; the realization causing sick guilt – pushing him even further into the dark abyss – how could she ever forgive him for what he’d done? She would certainly never speak to him again – he had lost her twice.
Would she forgive him in the afterlife, if there was such a thing? And even if there was, would he ever see her again as surely he was des
tined for a vastly different destination? Maybe he deserved to be painfully burning in the eternal fires of hell?
He was lost and adrift for weeks, the items in his now smelly room smashed to pieces, his clothes dirty and foul as he hadn’t bothered to change them. He hardly ate and had lost weight.
In the first week, the second day, Braxa had come to see him once. Braxa had always been loyal, always understanding. It was a short visit. He knew and had left the Admiral alone to his grief, covering for him and picking up his duties in the interim. The pain and emptiness seemed never ending.
Only remnants of a good man that once cared about duty and a sense of honor prevented him from pulling the trigger.
When he finally emerged from his quarters, he emerged a changed man. It was as if a dark veil of illusion had been lifted.
Yes, he was still grieving and was still torn between this life and the next, but he was beginning to see more clearly now.
The lack of any real convincing evidence linking the so-called Axari terrorists to the bombing, and the speed at which the mining companies had moved in after the fall of the Axari, was infuriatingly telling.
Everyone at the uppermost echelon of the government and military knew that the Imperium was fast running out of triterium. It was clear. They had all been played.
Now on top of all the grief, he felt regret, guilt, remorse and anger. Regret for not noticing the now obvious back then. Guilt, remorse and raging anger for being manipulated, for the loss of his family and for playing a part in the destruction of an entire civilization, for being responsible for the loss of so many billions of lives.
How he was going to keep himself together after this, God only knew. But somewhere in his mind a way forward had presented itself.
He and his loyal and absolutely devout men, who would follow him unquestioning to the very ends of space, would go back to Praxima and exact their revenge. He would not rest until the Imperial palace and every last triterium mining company, mining outposts and government building was burning.
So what if it pushed the Imperium back into the stone ages? He would teach his civilization a lesson that their bones and DNA would never forget.
He found it a sweet and fitting irony that as the last descendent of someone who had helped create the Imperium, he would be the one tearing it all down.
***
He had just come out of a long meeting with all captains of the fleet to explain the situation and his plan, and gauge his support. The captains had vowed to support him and the plan and were presently on their way to their vessels to prepare for launch of the new campaign.
The fleet was at near full strength, with the damage caused by the Axari war recently repaired. They were due to set sail in the next two hours.
The mining complexes on Kryxo and her sister moon Axirio were to be nuked quickly and simultaneously first, without warning, then the fleet would embark towards Praxima at high warp and arrive about four hours later.
The fleet would then launch a blitzkrieg on the home world. It would be totally unexpected and should be over quickly. The Emperor would not have seen it coming and even if he did, he’d be powerless to stop it.
The defenses left to guard Praxima would be ineffective against the pride of the fleet. Afterwards, the plan was to head towards the colonies and do the same thing there.
Smaller destroyers would then simultaneously be dispatched to hunt for, locate and destroy mining facilities everywhere triterium was being mined. Residential areas would be left unharmed; where they could help it.
The Admiral looked straight at Grex with cold, steel-blue eyes. Grex thought his heart was going to stop.
“What’s all this about, son?” he asked.
Just as Grex started explaining, the young comms officer interrupted.
“Excuse me, sir?” The Admiral nodded for him to continue. “Five civilian shuttles have left Kryxo and are en route to the fleet.
They’re saying that the mining colony is under attack. They’re seeking Navy protection and would like to approach.”
The Admiral cast a glance at first officer Braxa, who looked up from a display.
“They’re unarmed sir, no weapons or explosives detected.”
“Under attack from whom?” asked the Admiral.
The comms officer spoke into his headpiece, waited for a response, then: “They’re not entirely sure, sir, some of them think it could be a sleeper cell of Axari commandos.”
“Very well, keep weapons locked on the shuttles, and instruct them to park near our area of influence, but not closer,” the Admiral said, referring to an area near the fleet that was close enough to offer protection to the shuttles but not near enough for them to pose an immediate threat to the fleet.
“Tactical, scan the surface of Kryxo for hostiles and weapons fire”, the Admiral ordered.
The tactical officer entered a few commands into his console. Shortly afterward, a look of puzzlement came over his face.
Grex looked at his screen that was monitoring Kryxo. “Oh God!” he exclaimed.
“Sorry, sir, this doesn’t make any sense. Possibly a glitch with the sensors... apart from the mining colony and a bunch of buildings... there’s... uh... nothing there, sir”, the tactical officer said.
“What do you mean there’s nothing there?” the Admiral asked.
“The sensors aren’t picking up any animal or plant life, sir”
“What? Display Kryxo on screen,” the Admiral ordered.
There was a collective gasp and look of shock on the faces of everyone on the bridge as a view of an empty Kryxo appeared on the display.
No jungles, just barren land with a few rivers streaking through it.
The Admiral immediately yelled an order for fleet-wide battle stations.
For Grex, the screen wasn’t empty at all. The entire moon was completely enveloped in the creature’s red signature glow.
A couple of additional red tendrils seemed to be extending from the surface into space.
“Oh God! Oh God!” he exclaimed again.
“What is it man?” the Admiral asked, irritated.
“The shuttles! Destroy the shuttles! They’re not real! It’s the thing I came to warn you about!” Grex screamed urgently, “it’s some sort of energy being. It has to be destroyed!”
As if they somehow knew what was about to happen, the five approaching shuttles picked up speed and raced towards the fleet. Grex, his shuttle still stationary and at safe distance from the fleet, pulled up the scene on a display.
He looked back up at his main screen and for a few seconds the Admiral’s questioning gaze locked with his. In that brief moment, it felt to Grex like they just had a private and unspoken conversation, where volumes had been discussed. Somehow, a connection had been made and trust had been established between an unlikely pair of kindred spirits.
The Admiral gave a quick nod, then broke his gaze and yelled, “To all vessels in the fleet: raise shields, target the five incoming shuttles and fire!”
Grex watched in horrified awe as the fleet began firing streaks of multi-colored beams of energy at the shuttles.
“Sir, were receiving transmissions from the shuttles”, the operations officer said. Then his hands keyed in commands frantically into his console. “It’s a cyber-attack! Blocking…”
“Warn the fleet!” the Admiral yelled.
Suddenly, several vessels in the fleet stopped firing and began to lose power. Then the sheen of their shields disappeared, the lights in their port windows went out and they started drifting out of formation.
The tactical officer yelled, “Sir, the Ixia, Defiant and the Harbinger have all been disabled!”
The speeding shuttles that were still approaching the fleet at alarming speed, zigzagged, performing evasive maneuvers in an attempt to dodge the incoming weapons fire. They managed to avoid being hit for a few seconds, and then one got struck. It began blowing up while still moving, in an explosive blaze, but then, instead
of the explosion dissipating, it grew and during a few milliseconds, it transformed into a glowing, shifting blob of light. Its momentum not lost, it continued hurtling towards the fleet.
Another three destroyers lost power. One of the shuttles had managed to survive the gauntlet and could now be seen approaching a powered-down vessel. The shuttle wasn’t slowing down and shortly afterward smashed full-speed into a destroyer. An explosion ensued and as before it was replaced by a large glowing light, which was now stuck to the vessel’s damaged hull.
Another shuttle was hit, and another crashed into a carrier right in the middle of the fleet. Shortly afterwards, a sinking feeling crept into Grex’s heart as all blobs of light hit vessels in different locations throughout the formation.
Chaos ensued as the remaining active ships fired indiscriminately on the blobs resting on friendly powered-down ships. Explosions started breaking out on the vessels that were being fired on. On the bridge, the Admiral was frantically giving orders, two of which were to space out the fleet and scramble fighters.
The blobs of light were growing; one was so large now, that it seemed like it was about to swallow the destroyer it was on whole. Fighters had joined the battle and were swarming around and firing on the blobs.
But the more the fleet kept firing, the larger the blobs were getting. It was as if they were feeding these things by trying to destroy them.
Suddenly, the destroyer the large blob was on, exploded in a blinding flash of light, causing severe damage to the surrounding unshielded vessels. The shields of the other vessels glowed a distinctive blue as they absorbed the damage. The explosion was over, seemingly quicker than it should have been.
The blob survived, a brilliant light floating in space.
And all of a sudden it quadrupled in size, instantly swallowing five surrounding capital ships and a handful of fighters, all of them shielded.
Something similar was occurring in multiple locations further down the fleet, with blobs growing and swallowing ships. A captain, trying to save his vessel, had, in an act of misguided desperation, deployed a powerful weapon against the things.
The Light Page 8
