The Deian War:
Conquest
By
Thomas Trehearn
The Deian War: The Vermillion Apostles
Copyright © 2013 by Thomas Trehearn
Smashwords Edition
Prologue
THE BLACKSTAR NIMERIAN was not a stealth ship in the conventional sense. It used no advanced countermeasure systems to shield their presence from any unwanted attention, nor did it have a cloak to conceal them - at least, not in the way the humans would imagine it. Instead, the psychic aura surrounding the vast vessel was what kept it hidden, secure from the ever-wary gaze of the orbital platforms surrounding Gothica like a protective net.
The capital planet of the now-stagnant human Empire had been heavily guarded since the beginning of the Colonisation Wars, almost half a century before. At the end of that conflict, with a hundred worlds conquered, Gothica had not been in realistic need of such protection at its core. Yet, the Senate was far from satisfied to move the Sentinels to less protected locations. The outer worlds and the Frontier were enough of a barrier to stem any potential invasion, but Gothica was key; its safety could never be compromised, even if it seemed no enemy could even reach it.
However, now the threat of war from multiple angles was rising again. From the north-west the Phantoms moved ever inwards to the Empire’s core system, the Meridian Sector. To the east of the Empire, the Titan Sector and The Shield stood vigilant against the ever-present danger of an assault from the inter-galactic Vorlan Conglomerate.
No one was quite sure of the jeopardy the Vorlans presented, however one thing was for certain; they did not come from a neighbouring star system, but rather a neighbouring galaxy. Whether this meant they had conquered the worlds of their own home, or were fleeing into the Gothican Empire from their own conquerors, was something that had been debated by every human alive since the Vorlans first appeared as a small scouting party. They had given the Empire only one message, translated to the human language by unknown means; the Empire was in their way.
To Raina, the Third Apostle who was known as Valkyrie to the humans and Black Guardian legions alike, such debate over the intentions of the Vorlans was below her. It was not that the truth did not bother her, but she had more pressing matters to deal with. She had been in the Meridian Sector for almost two years now, arriving just three months after the fall of Pheia. Her task was to monitor the Gothican Senate, to determine their motives and desires, not those of an enemy she hadn’t even witnessed herself.
Sitting on the command throne of her flagship Nimerian, the only Black Guardian ship that now remained in the humans’ home star system unbeknownst to them, she remembered with enmity and regret the day they had failed the Empire. It had been a trap, there was no mistaking that, but she could not help feeling it was a trap the Lion should have seen.
That name again…the Lion. It spoke of strength, of valour, of noble intellect…yet where had those factors been when that world fell to the enemy? Where had those characteristics been when the First Apostle marshalled the legions to liberate Pheia and secure an early victory against the Phantoms? It was him that was outsmarted, not them.
The irony almost made her laugh. Almost. The memory of watching the world being swallowed into a black hole was too painful to bear, even to allow the morbid humour of Waterfox. Remarkably out of character, he had not managed to bring some levity to the catastrophe.
Yet all was not lost. From the ashes of their shameful defeat, the Apostles had risen stronger and more determined. They would win the war, whatever it took, and they would save the human race from destruction. They would defeat the Great Enemy, cast his carcass into the heart of a sun and be done with it.
That eventuality was a long way off though and they all knew it. With the Phantoms spread far and wide, millions to the west against the Ghoul Hosts and millions more to the east to consume more human worlds, the Apostles had little choice but to divide their forces. It was as the youthful, deceptively gentle Solitaire had predicted; the Great Enemy wanted to toy with them, give them the false hope that they could win this fight.
The Phantoms relied on sheer numbers and horror to sway the tide of battle, but the Black Guardians were the armies created by the deities; the real, but long-dead ones. With precision and strategy, they stood a chance of holding the foe at bay, divided as they were.
Raina allowed herself to smile as she thought of the nature of her little sister Solitaire. The woman - a fact that the Apostles had an unintended habit of forgetting due to her childish ways - was as militarily brilliant as she was beautiful, which was beyond measure. Stationed in the Orpheus Sector alongside Phoenix and Waterfox, the Ninth Apostle had already claimed the kills for several of the Great Enemy’s fiercest lieutenants.
A fierce Admiral, Solitaire was proving to be the most capable of them all, taking her fleet to intercept, engage and destroy the enemy forces trying to break through to the southern Empire. The Phantoms would never get through while she defended the line, Raina believed.
Thoughts of her naturally reminded Raina of the other Apostles. In the north-east, Nightingale and Cerberus were fighting side-by-side in the Tempest Sector. With their kin in the Orpheus Sector, they helped to protect both the Empire’s territories and those of the Independent Worlds. The fighting was fiercest there, with major conflicts already claiming the outlying worlds of Perth and Volantia. It seemed inevitable that eventually the Phantoms could threaten two Apostle homeworlds; the jungle world of Eve, which belonged to Gaia and Noiran, the shadow planet of Solitaire and Phoenix. It had only been through the combined and relentless efforts of the Fifth and Sixth Apostles and their assembled might of 43 legions that the enemy was kept from reaching those worlds.
But for how much longer? Valkyrie wondered. Phoenix and Waterfox could offer no help to the Tempest Sector; they were fighting their own, crucial battle for the factory world of Kraxus and had been for well over a year now. The surface of the whole planet was covered in manufacturing facilities that produced the weapons, war vehicles and ammunition for the Gothican Empire; except, with the educating help of the legions, it was now producing the advanced weapons that the Black Guardians were in desperate resupply of. If Kraxus was to fall, the Apostles would have limited options for rearmament of their armies.
So it was that the Orpheus and Tempest Sectors stood alone, yet closer than any other star systems in the gala- no, dimension, Raina corrected herself. After all this time she was still adjusting to the truth behind the cosmos. It was hard to just replace her understanding with the terms the Black Guardians used to describe the stars and universe.
As grave as the situation was in the north-east of the Empire, she could not pretend it was the only war front. In the north-west her sister Calla, Whitewolf, was fighting for the remnants of the Abodian Sector. Of course, she did not fight alone. The Lion was with her as always, but Raina could not stomach the idea that he was, in the more romantic sense of the word, with Calla.
She considered it a crime that the two of them should fight the same campaign; if they were truly in love - a fact that Raina could hardly support - then being so close together would surely cloud their judgement. They now had the largest number of legions at their disposal, at over one hundred, but just how many would either one sacrifice to save the life of the other?
Raina was glad that another Apostle was with them, even if it were only one. Gaia, the Eleventh, was the third part of the Abodian Campaign. Raina would never have left Calla’s side as peacefully as she did after the fall of Pheia, in fact she raged and fought against it with all her might and she could have done more to reject the Lion’s command, if Gaia had not been there to watch over the First and Second in her plac
e. Just knowing that she was there with them gave Raina a small hope that she could focus them on the war. It was not Calla she doubted, but she was not naïve enough to think that the Lion couldn’t sway her sister to do something rash and distract her from their purpose.
Then again…the Lion does so dearly love the humans, she thought. He will safeguard them as his duty and mission dictates and perhaps not even his love for Calla would sway him from that. After all, the Phantoms had swept over the Frontier in the first month of the Deian War, obliterating all orbital defence of Byzantium after the ruination of Pheia. Strangely, the Phantoms had left the surface intact as if to tease the Guardians of their power and tempt the humans to spread fear and anxiety to the rest of the Empire.
Only after that had the Great Enemy divided his forces, leading to the Lion’s decision to abandon relief efforts of Byzantium and pursue the enemy across the stars. Valkyrie had never agreed to it, but the other Apostles had seen the sense of dealing with what he called the ‘pertinent threats’.
With the Abodian Sector closest to the Frontier, a large force of Phantoms had invaded the worlds in a sadistic attempt to exterminate every human resident; a number that was close to seven billion. It was the Apostles’ duty, the Lion had claimed, to evacuate the humans to a safe harbour. How he loved to claim that honour for himself…That perilous sense of honour was going to kill them all someday, but only Raina seemed to see it.
So it fell that the greatest number of Apostles and the mightiest deployment of legions would be held in the Abodian Sector until the enemy spread further into other sectors, causing the Apostles to mimic them. Raina had been one of those to remain in the Abodian system at the start, but now only the other three remained. Sensing the humans’ increasing agitation and their twitching need to get involved in a war that was too horrific for them to endure, the Lion had given her the command that cemented the wedge between her and her so-called brother. It was only Calla’s insistence and pleading that swayed Raina to obey - no, not obey, but acquiesce.
Now, having allowed herself to be directed by the sole Apostle that she had truly ominous feelings about, Raina sat in the same throne aboard the same ship in the same sector that she had been in for almost two years. She was bored, she was restless, but most of all…she was weary.
It took a bewildering amount of energy to shield the Nimerian from detection and though it had been easy at first, the days soon grew to weeks, then to months and finally to years. All that time her legion, the 402nd, had been monitoring the Gothican Senate. All that time, they had been waiting for a sign, an indication of what the human government was planning to do.
With the fall of Pheia came a fall in reputation and trust in the Apostles. Though they had claimed a large deal of it back through the battles and successes that followed the pyrrhic lesson at the Frontier, the Senate seemed determined to force their own people into the Deian War. There was little time or resources for the Apostles to act on a whim and dissuade the Senate from any action; instead, only Raina had been sent to observe and wait and be patient. It was laughable. Surely, with the extra reports that the Outer Worlds had given to the capital as more and more refugees flooded to the Meridian Sector, those in power should have come to realise that the war was everything the Guardians warned them it would be.
Stumbling out of her thoughts with a sudden realisation that her straying mind would deprive the psychic aura encasing her vessel, Raina snapped back into focus and concentrated on rebuilding the shield that had slowly started to falter. It had almost failed enough for them to be detected. It was not the first time, either. As she brought the deceptive cloak back to full strength, she began to hear a voice that helped to return her to the present. Who was it and why were they so insistent?
With the shield fully active once again, she allowed a part of her mind to receive input from her immediate environment. Vita, the highest fleet captain of the 402nd, was at her side by the command throne. Her mouth was moving, but Raina could hear only the faintest of whispers. She allowed a greater portion of her mental energy to reawaken her conventional senses.
She looked up into the face of her subordinate. “What is it, Vita?” she asked, her voice croaky with the slow awakening of her conscious mind.
The captain was holding something in her hand and moved it toward her. “My Grace, I was informing you of what we have discovered.”
Raina took the hand-sized screen that Vita offered her and read the information quickly as the captain continued to needlessly explain the situation. “One of the operatives from the 906th we have in the Senate has uncovered something. He reports the Lord Governor has drawn fresh battle plans. He intends to withdraw forces from the west so that he can engage the Phantoms in open war at the Frontier.”
“Yes, I can see that” Raina snapped, regretting her tone immediately. She gave Vita a look that expressed an apology, but she did not care to voice one. She finished studying the details on her handheld screen, her brows furrowing in concern. With her helm removed and resting on the deck by her throne, her white hair was revealed in all its smooth appeal as she stroked an errant part behind her right ear.
“What are your orders, my Grace?” Vita bowed, unfazed by the reproach.
Raina had to consider her answer for a moment. If the operative had not made some fatal mistake, and the report was true, then what the Lord Governor intended would take months, if not years to implement. The Gothican forces stationed in the western Empire were a reservoir of strength that the Apostles would need to depend upon should the Phantoms break through the lines of the Ghoul Hosts.
Though the latter were no allies to the humans, rather a deadly, inexorable foe, the Phantoms had no perception of this and waded into them without discernment. That thoughtless assault against a shared enemy was buying the humans time to evacuate the western flank of the Empire. Perhaps the Lord Governor thought the Ghoul Hosts would hold the Phantoms off forever, or that the Apostle Hydra would shoulder the burden in the Aurora Sector should the Empire’s original foe prove incapable of providing an impenetrable barrier. Of course, they had been too deadly for the humans to eradicate, so why wouldn’t they stop the Great Enemy’s forces? That was human logic though, which Raina knew was deeply flawed.
No, there was no way the Lord Governor was correct to withdraw his forces and allow them to curve around east of the Empire to the north and into the Frontier. It would mean total ruin to the armies he sent, no matter how large or confident they were. It would ensure the destruction of the Empire’s dignity. It would be the end of Gothica’s hope.
“Vita, spin up the jump drives. Our mission here is evidently at an end. Return us to the Abodian Sector as quickly as haste allows; we finally have the news the First is waiting for…and I’ve grown exhausted with this charade” Raina instructed.
Vita nodded and began to issue commands to the bridge crew. As Raina withdrew from her throne to depart from the bridge, in the optimistic hope that she could now get some rest in her private chambers, the fleet captain had one final question for her.
“My Grace, what of the operatives?” she asked, careful not to walk too quickly to resume her place in the command chair. She didn’t want to give the appearance she would jump in the Apostle’s warm grave as well.
Without turning back, Raina called out her reply. “Tell the Dawntreaders to stay where they are. Whoever comes back will need someone on the inside to update them.”
At the suggestion of a return, the captain gave her a tired look. Raina smiled, an expression that didn’t match her usual temperament at all. “I promise you, Vita, it won’t be us” she said.
Chapter 1
THERE WAS SOMETHING in the air. A smell, the faintest of them, but one that he could pick up with his advanced senses nonetheless. The odour of victory did not escape Lupus; the Lion, the First Apostle. It had been over 12 years since that rank was made public, since he was referred to it time and again by his kin and the men and women serving under his c
ommand. He still couldn’t tell if it fit him, if it rankled or not.
On all fours in his Apostolic form, Lupus strode back and forth at the edge of the forest line. The smell of the tall, green trees was soothing to him, like it was an environment he belonged in. They reminded him of how he began on Gothica. He could scarcely believe he far he’d come since then and the things that he had done.
With him were four brigades of the 617th and an elite company of the 10th Eternals, which together amounted to around six thousand Guardians. The Eternals, the allied legion to his own, would bow to his authority with duty and honour, but despite his rank, they owed their deference first to their own Apostle; Whitewolf. She was known as Calla to him, but he wondered how many legionnaires knew her human name too.
A familiar, pleasant aroma filled his nostrils. Before he could be informed by anyone else, he sensed her arrival. Turning to watch her stalk through the forest glade to the front line, he marvelled at her beauty. She too was in her form, her white fur immaculate and spotless despite the heavy rainfall turning the ground to a muddy mess. Her paws splashed through the soil but she remained flawless in her appearance.
Lupus bowed his head in acknowledgement of his life companion, his love, his fellow Apostle. To him, the last of those facts was the least relevant and the first the most important. He couldn’t help but feel that their story belonged in a different setting, a different time. War was not their lot; peace and harmony was, but fate had a way of ruining their potential. Nevertheless, life had a way of providing opportunities for them. Even if it took a war campaign to bring them together, to fight side by side, then so be it. He would never let any harm come to her anyway.
Calla, it is good to see you. I feared you would let me lead the assault alone, with your legion begging me to bring you to justice for standing them up, he joked. It was a psychic communication from his mind to hers. Regardless of the powers granted to them in the Blessing, they could not move their animal mouths and produce a human voice no matter how they tried. Instead, they had to resort to silent messages. Still, it allowed them to talk privately if they so wished. They had done so dozens of times, the only clue the legionnaires had of their conversation the long periods of apparent quiet from them.
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