by Scott Moon
“You look rough,” Admiral Jeda Soldottir said. “On behalf of Black Fleet, I thank you and your crew.”
“They didn’t do anything. Felton helped a little.” Kimberly wasn’t sure what she was saying. Her mouth was on autopilot and she wanted to get drunk—something she normally only pretended to do.
“I see. Regardless, we are moving through the jump passage in earnest.” A mischievous light glowed in her eyes. “I will need a commando crew to close the portal behind us.”
“Not a chance, woman,” Kimberly said.
Jeda laughed. “You wouldn’t know how to work the tech anyway. And it takes nerves of steel.”
“Are you trying to bait me?” Kimberly asked. She barely looked at the viewscreen. Most of her attention was on the astrochart slowly populating in the ship's computers. Known stars were mapped and used to calculate their current position… a long way from either Earth or Siris.
“Maybe. You did such a good job getting us here, why not put your skills to work elsewhere?” Jeda said.
Kimberly watched for the arrival of ships. The flow of UNA vessels had slowed dramatically. “Is that all that survived?”
“We did better than any of us hoped,” Jeda said.
Kimberly massaged her neck. “It seemed like they would never stop coming.”
“Your powers of observation are impressive. Our enemies are more numerous than the stars. Why do you think that is?”
“Maybe they feed on cliché.”
Jeda snorted a genuine laugh that made Kimberly smile.
When the admiral signed off, Kimberly stared at the viewscreen. On impulse, she turned off sensory enhancements and computer simulations. The sight of complete blackness was like a punch in the gut. It took several minutes before she could detect the famous pinpricks of light that were stars in the distance.
"You shouldn't do that," Felton said as he handed her a drink. "Our fragile human psyches aren't made for this kind of isolation. And in this case, the truth is a lie. Yes, we’re in the middle of literal nowhere, but we can jump to a new system when all the ships are accounted for."
Kimberly updated the star map to show icons of ships arriving through the wormhole she had created with the Escaping Doctor. She didn't feel better. There weren't very many icons and she couldn't finish the thought that her ship was going to be left here alone.
17
Hanax Attacks
Hanax pushed his eldest son into the hole after his wife, resenting the drain on his physical strength and hating himself for his fear of weakness. Reliance on such base force was undignified and reminded him of Guidis. His willingness to do these things to the only creatures in the universe he loved made him worse than his nemesis.
Their confrontation had been violent.
"Husband, you're hurting us," his wife said.
"Father, stop..."
Hanax closed the lid before they could see the silver moisture breaking from his eyes to crawl down his cheeks. "It is for the best."
He understood the hellish pain of the cryosleep chambers. Once, long ago, he had used this place to hide from Guidis and Dremur during their political coup.
Perhaps it was worse for the children. They did not understand that all things must end. For the youngest of his offspring, this would seem like an eternity.
The Ignari will pay for this. Guidis and Dremur will pay double.
"Sleep well, wife. Rest and be at ease, my children. The pain will pass. We will rise together and become the Ascendant." When he could no longer bear the sight of his family's cryo chambers, he walked among the others.
A terrestrial being would measure the time he spent among the silent catacombs at the center of the darkness in weeks. He would've liked to have taken longer and savored his misery.
His addiction to suffering was unhealthy. He knew the coping mechanism that had allowed him to survive would eventually bring him down as it had all those before him.
It was better this way. He couldn't bear for his family to see the evil he'd already done to save them or realize what he was willing to do to achieve the final victory.
Leaving the Darkness was a simple thing but not something he did often. Nothing could touch him inside the sphere realm, where thousands of fleets could be regenerated.
He moved physically to a gateway leading through the outermost barrier of the dark sphere. His ship waited as it always did. Feeling ridiculously adventurous, he assumed the grand captain's chair on a bridge that hadn't been used for thousands of years. His crew arrived moments later and took their places without need for instruction.
"Lord Hanax, we believe Guidis has begun his grand destruction of the human Black Fleet," his first servant said. "Shall we watch from the shadows again?"
"No, servant. This time, we will attack," Hanax said.
A thrill rippled through him and his heart raced. This was what mortals meant when they said they were alive. Nothing made sense. Why would the prospect of death and damnation be exciting?
If he made a mistake, it would be over. Nothing he’d done would matter. His family would be left in the cryosleep chambers for an eternity. Fueled by the momentum of the turning galaxy and all of its robust forms of energy, the sleep pods would last far longer than it took for his progeny to turn to dust, even in their preserved state.
The dark ships of his warriors flashed across the holographic viewscreens of his flagship. His officers—that was what the humans would call them, somewhat and inaccurately—chattered continuously. Unlike their mortal counterparts, they never stopped speaking.
His servants could send and receive at the same time. He made them to be efficient and ruthless. Listening to fifty people on his command bridge was like listening to a city of humans during the dawn of their civilization.
His attention drifted, the excitement of imminent death fading quickly. Memories of deserts and pyramids, jungles and human sacrifices, and all manner of political intrigue he had wreaked thousands of years ago on as many worlds amused him.
"My perception of time is different from what these flesh and blood enemies experience," he said.
Each of his servants responded appropriate to their station in his hegemony. He ignored them, as their thoughts were already known to him. How could he not predict everything they did and would do?
I am Hanax, master of the Darkness. Rockets slammed against his flagship, causing it to bump side to side. Observe yourself, fool. If you are so powerful, why must you hide your family from your rivals?
Rage flowed through him, inspiring him to ball up his fist and punch it through the control station.
"I live only to attend to your will," the servant nearest him said, head bowed.
"We will be victorious, yes?"
"Yes, master. There can be no doubt. Our ships outnumber theirs a thousand to one."
Heart pounding in his chest, Hanax forced it to slow until the anger dissipated. "What is the danger of being mortal?"
The servant made a sign against evil and muttered several words in its lower language. "That we may become angry and destroy ourselves."
Hanax studied the creature, leaning forward to loom over him. "Are you not angry these humans have killed your progeny?"
The servant, a male with silver and gold wires stitched across his face, looked up. Only his head moved to turn his face upward, but his eyes blazed brightly in defiance of the awkward bowing posture.
"Furious," the servant said. "So furious that it burns my blood."
Hanax sucked in a breath, the whistling sound like a word of judgment.
"The human Black Fleet will be destroyed soon," the servant said.
Hanax feigned indifference, leaning back in his throne-like command chair. "Of course. How could it be otherwise? Draw out our moment of victory and learn from it."
"What shall I learn?"
Hanax was stunned by the insolence of this one, but hid his emotion.
“If you have to ask the question, you will never know
the answer. But I will tell you that you must savor these base emotions and put them away so they do not conquer you."
His servant snarled, showing teeth that were sharpened like razors. "Yes, master. We will savage these vile humans."
18
Hunger and Desperation
Danzig wasn’t sure what he’d been saying to his executive officer, but it was clear he’d lost his train of thought. Everyone in the command tent stared at him. Alarm showed on their faces. There was fear in their eyes. Underneath their tension was raw hunger.
Siris might be a garden planet for the Sirens and Nix or it might not. All the humans were starving, including Admiral Danzig Robedeaux.
“The launch goes ahead as planned. Our reconnaissance teams have brought back valuable information on the weaknesses of the enemy ground forces,” he said.
“At the cost of a Cyclops squadron,” someone in the back muttered.
Danzig pretended not to hear the man, something he’d never have done a month ago. That kind of talk couldn’t be tolerated. Once, not so long ago, he’d have drawn the man out with humor or confronted him with facts.
I’m so tired and hungry, he thought.
“Shall I give the order?” Melanie Ford asked.
“Yes, Commander.”
“To your stations. Final warning orders go out at 2330 hours UNA Standard Time. All ships must be ready for launch at their assigned times to maximize the planet’s rotational dynamics. If you’re late, you’re staying here,” she announced.
Men and women acknowledged, discussed details, then filed out.
“Thank you, Ford.”
She stepped nearer. “Are you okay, Admiral?”
“Yes,” he said. “For the greatest failure in Fleet history, I’m as good as can be expected.”
She bristled at his self-deprecation. “You need rest, and you need to eat.”
“We all need that.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head and stepped away from her. Her close proximity made him uncomfortable.
“What will we do for food after the launch? The worst part of our situation is that we lose even if we win. We need a system of orbital repair and resupply platforms. This type of mass launch has never been attempted.”
Which is why I shouldn’t have grounded the two biggest fleets in the Navy.
“You didn’t have a choice,” Ford said.
He stood a bit straighter and responded with a smile. “Glad you’re reading my mind again. And you’re correct. We would have been dust clouds in the void now if we’d gone toe to toe with the Burners.”
Reports from his ships began to come in. The details were comforting, if grim. He didn’t mind a hard fight or an impossible situation. Helplessly waiting for rescue was what was intolerable to Danzig and his officers.
“It’s been too long,” Danzig said, pushing self-doubt and fatigue back as he had hundreds of times during his career. The UNAS Majesty was his home, the bridge was his destiny. The recycled air smelled and tasted familiar. “It’s good to power up this old girl.”
“It’s a little soon to celebrate, but I agree; camp life doesn’t agree with me,” Ford said. “I never thought I’d get excited about the sound of ventilation ticking in the rafters. We have climate control and flush toilets, always a win in my book.”
“Captain Roberts, you have the conn. Prepare to launch the Fleet.”
“Yes, Admiral.” Roberts looked refreshed and energetic.
Danzig resented the man’s chipper attitude, but it did inspire confidence. He’d kept the man at arm’s length, never trusting him and never letting him go too far on his own. Now he relied on the captain to do his job—drive one ship with the help of his executive officer, Commander Melanie Ford.
She’s not technically my XO. I’m wrong to rely on her. I’m getting sloppy.
“Lieutenant Mud, Ensign Alonso—have you calculated our launch trajectory?” Roberts asked, clearly running his own numbers for his terminal.
“Several times, Captain,” Mud said.
“Very good.”
Danzig watched the bridge crew work. At one point, Commander Ford winked at him. Everything was running smoothly. It was almost like they were already in the void conducting business as usual.
There was, however, other business that needed his attention.
He reviewed screen after screen. The view of Siris was impressive. Kingstar’s defensive works used every possible resource. Trenches had been dug in complicated patterns, each funneling the enemy into a kill zone. Rocks larger than ships had been sunk into strategic places or cut from the landscape with explosives for energy weapons. Electric razor wire made parts of the natural maze un-passable for anything but the Burners, and even their vanguard grew entangled when they moved too quickly.
Rockets streaked away from the camp at the main advance of the Burners. Machine guns, an older technology that had taken some ingenuity to bring online, poured tracer rounds into the shadows. Unlike similar weapons of old, these had phosphorescent markers on every bullet. Glowing death streamed into the night like hungry laser-beams. Only a few plasma weapons came to life, due to the energy expended and the fact that most had been damaged in earlier battles.
The Burners didn't like the hellish weapons and sought to destroy them whenever possible.
“Admiral, the ships of the Fleet are checking in. All is going according to plan,” Roberts said.
“Very good, Captain.”
Something shifted in the ground battle. An element of the Ignari Burners pushed toward the troop transports, where the last of the defenders would make their escape from Siris. Danzig watched in amazement as Marines, soldiers, and coalition forces held their positions despite the very real prospect of being cut off from the evacuation.
His eyes watered. He took a deep breath and let it out before the tears could fall. If anyone noticed, they didn’t comment.
He knew this couldn’t last. The men and women of his expeditionary force were human. Some of them would break.
When it happened, they’d fall back by the numbers, moving with courageous professionalism despite the folly of their action. In purely technical terms, they were doing everything right. The tactics were flawless and no one panicked.
Yet.
The only problem was reality. The Burners swarmed into every crack in the defenses. He watched a solider stand to throw a grenade and get hit by a Burner’s blast, vaporizing almost instantly.
No one could fight that kind of enemy. Not like this.
A dozen more Burners charged over the rise and descended like red and orange nightmares. UNA and CWF forces scattered, firing at enemies wherever they popped into view. The result was a melee of deadly attacks and friendly fire incidents to compound the route.
“The first ships are away,” Ford said.
Danzig acknowledged the update but kept his attention on the unfolding events. An SMC Marauder unit moved to plug one of the many gaps in the perimeter.
His chief of security, Special Warrant Officer Moreau, tensed as he watched the security footage. Danzig guessed the man wanted to go out and fight but knew his place was here.
Other members of the UNAS Majesty crew looked on in horror. They’d done their checks and were waiting for the flagship to launch. Minutes creeped by. Death swarmed near the ships still on the ground.
“Commander LeFever or Lieutenant Marshall, can either of you help stem the flow of these assholes without compromising the launch schedule?” Danzig asked.
“I’ve been making calculations. I can deploy small ships and fighters from the Majesty, but we won’t be able to get them back. Or at least we won’t be able to get most of them back,” LeFever said. “The rest of our small ships need to clear the upper atmosphere of Burners before our capital ships launch.”
“Keep working on it and give me a better plan before you deploy additional fighters,” Danzig said, knowing LaFever’s squadrons could operate in atmosphere but not well. They were all void fighters, d
eadly in the stratosphere and space. Next time, Danzig would bring more airships to assist ground forces.
“Marshall?”
The man smiled. “I got something for them, Admiral. Launch protocol strictly forbids firing weapons while still in the gravity well, a rule I intend to violate liberally.”
Danzig looked at Ford questioningly. He noticed that Captain Roberts was doing the same. Ford shrugged.
“I like it. As soon as we’re at altitude, let him have it. Let’s give the ground-pounders some relief. Captain Roberts, is it almost our turn?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
The Majesty bridge crew went to work. Crosstalk ending in jokes was kept to a minimum. The ship began to vibrate as launch thrusters came to life. These had been built since their time on the planet, another small thing Danzig was immensely proud of.
Every part of the multi-ship launch went according to plan, until it didn’t.
“We have ships coming back down, possibly damaged by the Burner orbital blockade.” Melanie Ford’s voice was tight but in control.
“It looks like we have two hits from surface-to-air rockets from behind the Burner frontline. Enemy ground forces are swarming into the camp. Reports say three ships have been overrun and won’t be able to launch,” LeFever reported.
Reports came continued to deliver bad news. Danzig watched the tactical screens. Several squadrons of small ships and void fighters fought to keep back the blockade. On the ground, Kingstar and his people fought with the fury of animals against animals.
“Commander Marshall, now’s the time,” Danzig said.
“Aye, aye, sir!” He changed the channel of his headset, leaned over his console, and started issuing a series of clipped commands.
Danzig’s attention shifted to an SMC unit driving forward into a cluster of the enemy. For a moment, the Burner advance stalled as some of the flaming war machines circled back to deal with the humans.
