A Call to Arms

by Bradley Hutchinson

  As his voice trailed off, the Endurance slunk under the half-intact hulk of a N’xin dreadnaught – one of the few Lauren had actually seen in the war – and was greeted by a pocket of clear space… and they finally had the N’xin dead to rights.

  “Fire at will!” Lauren snapped, making for her command chair. Before she’d even finished giving the order, though, the weapons systems were cycling, glowing pulses of sapphire lightning lancing forward and stabbing deep into the retreating N’xin warship.

  The first salvo vanquished the smaller ships shields, allowing the second to penetrate the hull just above the rear engine assembly. The fuel cells detonated blindingly, the explosion creeping up forward to its needle-like prow. A second detonation, larger than the first, engulfed the craft, and by the time it subsided there was nothing left of the craft but bits of flotsam.

  A cheer started to erupt from the bridge crew, but Lauren hushed them swiftly. “There’s more of them out there, so don’t start celebrating yet.” She gave a pointed glance at the main sensor station. “Find us another target.”

  Moments later, Commander Felix Bartholdy approached her from the rear of the bridge. “I could get used to this winning feeling,” He’d been her First Officer for the last few months, making up for a lack of experience with enthusiasm. He brandished a datapad and handed it to her. “Priority One Communique from FleetCom.”

  “What is it?” Lauren asked as she accepted the pad and keyed in her access code.

  He shook his head. “I haven’t read it yet.”

  It took all of five seconds for her to read the new orders.

  “Interesting,” Lauren murmured, and turned to Felix. “Break off pursuit, and have the helm take us out of the debris field, and rally at the Enterprise.”

  “We’re retreating?” Felix asked, incredulous, but careful to keep his voice low. There were still a few N’xin stragglers that needed to be weeded out, and like Lauren, he didn’t like the idea of slipping out in the middle of a fight.

  “Regrouping,” Lauren corrected gently, returning to her command chair. “The Bellerophon was somewhat mute on the reason of why.” She shrugged as she sat down, crossing her legs. It was a question she didn’t want to dwell on. “Our orders are to rendezvous with the Enterprise and her task force, before re-joining the rest of the fleet at the systems edge.” She nodded grimly. “My guess is that our little diversion here has served its purpose.”

  “Or Elysium has fallen, and we’re needed to go and take it back,” Felix muttered, and Lauren cast him a furtive look that screamed Shut up, you fool. “Just sayin’,” he amended softly.

  “I highly doubt the N’xin could have conquered Elysium,” Lauren hissed, annoyed. “And besides, the orders didn’t have that sort of urgency.”

  Felix scoffed loudly, and Lauren cringed inwardly as a couple of junior officers glanced over at them. “They didn’t when New Baltimore fell, either,” he reminded her, then fell silent when her lips thinned to the point they disappeared. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ll get us moving, Cap’n.”

  “Good.” Lauren nodded her head in the direction of the helm. “Make it happen.”

  *

  “Have you seen these reports?”

  James Hunter looked up from the ruins of the desk in his Ready Room and beckoned for David Garret to join him.

  At some point during the battle, the support strut in the ceiling had collapsed, lancing through the table like scalpel. Glass was everywhere, and the timber frame had splintered into smithereens… it was a small comfort that his chair – genuine leather – had survived unscathed, though it was in serious need of a dusting before he’d even think of sitting his ass in it.

  “I haven’t long been up, David,” he said quietly as he accepted the proferred datapad. “I didn’t sleep well. What is this, another casualty update? Damage report?”

  “Neither. Scouts along the frontier are reporting large-scale N’xin withdrawals.” David’s voice was tinged with excitement and urgency. “Looks like they’re abandoning their front-lines, pulling back deeper into their territory.”

  “Do you believe it?” James asked softly… after all these years, the endgame was in sight. The notion both thrilled and petrified him. “Do you think they’re retreating?”

  David shrugged, gesturing out the viewports at the clean-up already underway. A swarm of tugs swam around the Carpathia, tending to the many stricken, damaged vessels in the space surrounding the giant warship.

  “I don’t know, James, but I fucking hope so.” He thrust his chin out. “I hope we didn’t go through all this, just to keep bloodying our noses.”

  James considered that. Already in the hours since the N’xin had withdrawn, he’d had a message from his father, congratulating him on his stunning victory over the N’xin… and also reminding James of the tremendous cost of establishing his little charade that had so completely fooled the N’xin.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” James offered diplomatically. He wasn’t sure what to believe right now… save for the ledgers that scrolled across his virtual vision. Casualty reports, damage reports… His father had even appended a complete accounting of just what his faux shipyard had cost HB&S… and a subtle reminder that the Commonwealth had better refund the business.

  Given the state of the economy, though, James doubted that would happen any time soon – more likely, the Senate would simply grant HB&S additional tax credits to help them absorb the billions they had poured into today’s victory… and Patrick would milk his investment for all it was worth.

  Which means I won’t be asking my father for any favours any time soon, James realized. Twenty years ago, that wouldn’t have bothered him, but now… The whole galaxy is a different place now. I can’t count on anything the way I used to. His seeming inability to count on his father threatened to suffocate him.

  Maybe you’re just over-reacting, he thought, calming his thoughts as he drew in a deep breath.

  “I hope I’m right,” David murmured, and the two men fell into an uneasy silence as they watched the rescue teams from afar.

  Chapter Five

  “Your pardon, Your Excellency, but I’m sure I didn’t hear you correctly,” Kuellan Mk’Bak said, his pointed face just inches from the deck of the bridge of the new flagship Radical Devotion. The background din of the command centre of the gigantic warship – just recently commissioned – fell quiet. “Did you just suggest that we are going to… surrender… to the vermin?”

  “Rise, Warlord Mk’Bak,” Overlord Kray commanded, his voice deep and hard. Kuellan obeyed, rising himself to his full height – which was nearly a full head taller than the newly appointed Overlord. “You’re correct, you didn’t hear me. I said we needed to negotiate a ceasefire with the humans. That does not mean we are going to surrender.”

  Kuellan bowed his head. “It sounds the same to me… and my men.”

  Kray stamped a clawed foot loudly on the deck. “Mind your place, Warlord – I rule the Hegemony, not you, or your men.”

  “As you say, Overlord.”

  Kray studied Kuellan for long seconds, his pointed, furry ears flattening against the sides of his head as his hind leg tapped the deck slightly in impatience. “I understand how you feel, Kuellan,” the N’xin ruler continued quietly. “This war has been long, and success has been so few… but ask yourself this: can we win this war with what we have to field with now?”

  Kuellan gnashed his teeth resentfully. After a few moments he was forced to conclude: “No.”

  Kray cocked his head and put his back to Kuellan, marching towards the throne that sat on a raised dais in the centre of the bridge. The throne was made from the ivory collected from a nearly-extinct species on the homeworld – anyone else in possession of such items would be killed, but the throne was centuries old, crafted at a time when the Xarken roamed the continents in droves.

  “Then you know what you must do, Mk’Bak. Send your envoy.”

  Kuellan made a m
ajestic bow that was steeped in sarcasm, stomping his way down to the hangar in the depths of the ship after he was dismissed. Oh yes, he knew what he had to do, alright…

  *

  “All hands, stand to battle stations!”

  The voice from the intercom died as suddenly as it had appeared, replaced by the shrill squeal of the alert klaxon and the faint din of people rushing outside.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Noah Hunter blurted out, his mouth full of cereal, even as his father glared daggers at the ceiling, no doubt feeling betrayed that his humanitarian mission was already going awry, and the Nightingale hadn’t even arrived yet at its destination yet.

  “Were we expecting to be going into battle?” Samantha Hunter asked, her hair a shocking blonde these days – as she played with an apple in the low gravity they were enjoying. She joined her uncle and cousin for this annual pilgrimage to the Titus IV Resettlement camp; Amanda had opted to remain behind and focus on her studies.

  “Of course not,” Troy Hunter snapped, wiping at his mouth with a napkin as he rose quickly from the small dinner table that occupied the very centre of their spartan quarters. “Titus is supposed to be secure…” He made a beeline for the door, the two teenagers scrambling in his wake.

  “You said this trip would be fun, Noah,” Samantha Hunter said to her cousin, her tone accusatory, her dark eyes blazing as she attempted to fix her hair up. “I did not come all the way out here to die, Noah.”

  “Oh, shut up, Sam,” Noah snapped, laughing at her. “Where are we going, dad?”

  “I am going to the bridge,” Troy said. “I don’t care if I have clearance or not.”

  At that point, Noah realized how much the three of them – civilians – stood out. Everyone around them was hurrying about in uniforms – many of them incomplete – but Troy and his wards were in purely civilian attire. The only military thing about them were the temporary clearances their VA’s held – and even those simply permitted them to travel aboard the ship.

  “You two should stay down here,” his father continued when they reached the turbolift. “Return to our quarters and wait for me there.” The doors opened to let him in. “And double check where the escape pods are… just in case things go pear-shaped.”

  The doors swooshed shut, and he was gone, leaving the two teens alone in a now-deserted corridor.

  “Do you think he really meant that, about the escape pods?” Noah asked, his eyes wide in apprehension. Tales of his father’s first adventure to Titus reverberated in his mind like a deathly echo, and his heart threatened to explode from fear.

  Samantha shrugged, grinning mischievously as flicked her dark hair back. “Who cares? Let’s go down and watch the activity in the hangar bay.”

  “But how will we get in?” Noah asked, tugging at the top of his shirt. “Hello, we’re civilians?”

  Samantha raised her hands next to her face and waggled her fingers as she grinned evilly. “Hello, I’m a hacker.” She grabbed him – roughly – by the arm and dragged him towards the aft section of the ship. “Stress less, cousin, I’ll get us in there. Just think of all the hot pilots we’ll find.”

  *

  Using a little security hack his brother had taught him – strictly for emergencies, of course, not that Troy would ever use it for anything else – to get up to the bridge, Troy Hunter stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Nightingale, a Galileo-class supply ship. A combat-capable supply freighter, the Nightingale was usually tasked with supplying the refugee colonies.

  It was on such a mission now, loaded down with supplies donated by Troy and other philanthropists. This was the fourth such delivery run Troy had been on in the last eighteen months, and they had all been uneventful – so safe and routine, in fact, that Jennifer had permitted him to take his niece along for the ride.

  But looking at the viewscreen, Troy conceded that may have been a mistake. A N’xin cruiser – a top-of-the-line model from the looks of it – was bearing down on the Nightingale, standing between them and the world of Titus IV, which was spinning lazily along its orbital path some millions of kilometres away.

  “Mr. Hunter, welcome to the bridge,” Captain Robin Haley said, glowering at Troy sternly as he stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge. “I guess I don’t need to ask how you got up here?”

  Troy shrugged. Haley was a physically intimidating woman, standing several inches taller than Troy, with broad shoulders, longish black hair flecked with blonde, but with two locks of red hair framing sky blue eyes.

  “My brother taught me a thing or two when we were on the Eisenhower,” he said by way of apology, and Haley waved his explanation away.

  “Whatever,” she said, and gestured for him to approach her in the command chair. “You could have just asked what was going on.”

  “I could have, but would you have told me the truth?”

  Haley smiled, and Troy had his answer – to spare a potential panic, especially from his children, she would have lied to him. “As you can see, we’re in a spot of trouble.” She nodded at the direction of the N’xin warship.

  “Thirty seconds to weapons range, Captain,” an officer called out, eying Troy with great distrust.

  “Thanks, Lieutenant,” Haley replied, her fingers drumming rhythmically against the arm of her chair.

  “Where’s the Seoul? Or the Valkyrie?” Those were the names of the two frigates currently stationed to safeguard Titus. Although both of them were of an older design, their presence may have been enough to dissuade the N’xin from advancing further.

  Or it may have simply encouraged the N’xin to wipe them out first, rather than us, Troy thought bitterly, his heart pounding in ears – his virtual vision flashed an alarm, warning him that his heart rate was highly elevated.

  Which isn’t surprising, my anxiety always shoots up whenever I think about this place. Even four years later, Troy was unable to shake off the feelings of death and despair – just mentioning this place brought up memories of sights and smells that he’d witnessed… but the most eerie feeling was that of the silence of the place, how quiet it had been in the aftermath of the N’xin raid.

  “The Valkyrie is off on escort duty elsewhere,” Haley explained softly, her voice tense and tinged with anxiety. “And the Seoul is on the other side of the planet… it’s on its way, but I fear it’ll be too late.”

  “You’re telling me we’re screwed?”

  Haley smiled sardonically. “Ordinarily, I’d say we’re fucked, but this fella doesn’t seem intent on fighting… at least for the moment.” She pressed a button on her command chair, and a small holographic display of the N’xin warship appeared over in the air in front of her. “Its weapons are raised, but it hasn’t raised its defensive screens… yet.”

  “Curious,” Troy murmured. Even for the N’xin, that was a rather brazen display of over-confidence. While the Nightingale wasn’t well armed, it had enough firepower to cause an unshielded warship a terrible headache, if only for a short time.

  “Vessel coming out of FTL!”

  “Visual!” Haley snapped automatically, before letting out a string of curses under her breath.

  “Ma’am, new vessel is a N’xin cruiser,” the sensor officer – a tall man with a nervous demeanour – called out, even as the new craft appeared, flashing into life not far to the side of the existing cruiser… but also closer to the Nightingale.

  “Shit.” It wasn’t the most poetic thing Troy had ever said, but it was a fair summation of how totally fucked they were now. “Captain –”

  “The first cruiser is vectoring… Captain, it’s altering course to intercept the second cruiser.”

  Indeed, even as the sensor officer made the report, they saw the N’xin cruiser adjust its course menacingly, its bulky wings gliding down into the standard attack position, even as its weapons ports glowed dangerously bright.

  “What the hell?” asked Haley rhetorically as the new arrival began to manoeuvre, even as the initi
al interloper unleashed a full broadside.

  The second cruiser was still in the process of raising its defence shields – a critical delay, as both ships could easily slag the other with a single salvo if the hull was unprotected.

  Which is precisely what happened. The N’xin gunners had focused their fire on several specific points, and their plasma weapons lanced into the very bowels of the ship with considerable ease, boiling away hull plates and evaporating sensor arrays and weapon ports, stray bolts of energy escaping out the rear of the craft and dissipating after a few kilometres in the void.

  The dying cruiser did not go quietly, however, managing to get off a partial volley of its own before it detonated in a spectacular fireball. Unfortunately, its assailants’ shields were up, and the cerulean shield of protective energy had no difficulty absorbing the withering hail of return fire.

  Troy watched with baited breath as the disintegrating cruiser spiralled out of control, its hull pitted, scorched and burning, its disintegration accelerating as its structural integrity systems failed. Within ten seconds, the craft had completely broken up, becoming nothing more than a series of many thousands of globules of metal and gasses.

  “What the hell just happened?” Troy asked after a moment of confused silence had paralysed the bridge. Almost everyone had their attention fixed on the visual feed on the forward bulkhead.

  Before anyone could answer, one of the auxiliary consoles bleated an alarm.

  “We’re receiving a communication from the N’xin vessel, Captain.”

  “What do they want?” Haley asked suspiciously. “Our surrender?” Even as she asked this, the Seoul appeared from behind the planet as a distant speck of flickering light. Troy guessed it would still be a few minutes out, leaving the Nightingale in for a severe beating if the N’xin decided to press the issue. Whatever that issue is.

  “It’s a wide-spectrum transmission, Captain,” the lieutenant replied after studying his readout. That meant the transmission wasn’t intended for them, per se, but for all Commonwealth forces in the system. “Translation coming through now… Interesting, it’s upper caste dialect, not one of the more common dialects their soldiers have been known to use…”