Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars

by Iain Richmond

  “Damage report, Commander!” Falco switched to the exterior video feed. Carbon epoxies foamed through layers of the Anam Cara’s wounded steel hull, the safety systems laboring to mend her.

  “Incoming! Too small, too close to track.” Shar’ran turned toward Falco when the second projectile slammed into the COM satellite link just forward of the solar sail compartment only meters under the bridge.

  Data-Pads flew from workstations, heads snapped backwards. Lieutenant Wallace drooped in his pilot’s chair, streaks of red flowing down his face from a gash over his left eye pooling on his nav-pad.

  “Medic to the bridge!” Falco scanned the area for more injuries.

  “Incoming! Can’t get a lock.” Commander Shar’ran slammed a fist onto his station top.

  “Hold onto something!” Falco growled, “God damn it!”

  The Anam Cara lurched and slowed.

  “Captain, they hit the main engine! Out of commission, but thrusters are still online,” stated the ship’s engineer over Falco’s COM box.

  “Get her moving.” Falco released his iron grip on the armrest, hit the release on his harness, stood and quickly moved to the bow. After checking Wallace for a pulse, he gently eased the lieutenant to the deck and buckled into the pilot’s seat. A stout crewman with a red ‘M’ on the chest of her uniform moved in behind Falco and began assessing the injured officer.

  “I have the controls. Let’s go, Commander, I need damage assessment.” Falco pushed the thrusters as fast as the flight controls would allow.

  Commander Shar’ran sat upright and adjusted the tension on his harness. Two lines flashed red across the Battle-Net screen amid the scrolling data. “Rail guns destroyed, COM-Sat down, breach sealed, grav-system ninety-two percent, environmental systems compromised, but stable.” He swallowed hard and continued, “Gunners Conlin and Martinez, killed in action, sir.”

  Captain Falco’s jaw tightened. “Continue scanning for hostiles. Fire on anything that moves out there. If you get as much as a blip without a friendly indicator, I want a missile parked on it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Commander Shar’ran scanned the massive black wall that hid their attackers while the Battle-Net swiveled the port and starboard launch tubes, searching for anything within range.

  Falco remained calm while allowing himself a moment to feel the loss of his two young crewmen. Rotating through hiber-sleep periods for five years created a strange distance between a crew. One could go the entire ‘turn’ and only meet a handful of people on a skeleton crew that rarely shared a space together. Falco was only beginning to get to know the young crewmen out of the academy. What he did know, Martinez and Conlin strapped into the rail-guns’ battle buckets and did their jobs to the end.

  “Lieutenant Wallace is conscious. Possible mild concussion,” stated the medic while continuing to dress the head wound with one hand and waive chem-salts in the other.

  “Good, get him back to us ASAP.” We need a real pilot, Falco thought. I’m just good enough to get us killed.

  The medic punched three poly-stitches through the clean flaps of skin above Lieutenant Wallace’s left eye with a loud snap that made Falco wince.

  “Just like the one you gave me when we met, Captain.”

  Falco spun around and found Lieutenant Wallace sitting up, a strange smirk plastered across a swollen face. “Well, I’ve definitely seen you look worse.” Falco returned the smile, “Now get up, you lazy Scotsman and take over the controls before I fly us into an asteroid!”

  “Full damage report is coming in, Captain.” Ensign Holts pressed one hand over the tiny speaker in her ear and the other hand extended like a stop sign. “COM-Sat, Emergency Beacon, gone. Minor damage to the belly of the boat, main engine offline, rail-guns heavily damaged, solar sails are intact, five minor injuries, two KIA.” Holts’s arms dropped to her sides. “Could have been much worse.”

  Falco was about to bite Holts’s head off at the ‘could have been worse,’ remark, but refrained. Two dead with only slight damage was ‘minimal’ he knew. It could and should have been much worse. They hit exactly what they wanted to.

  Holts again pressed a hand to her ear. “We have remnants of the enemy’s weaponry. Sanitation crew is scrubbing down the rail gun compartment. Crewman in-charge recommends it be sealed until we get back to the station.”

  The bridge of the Anam Cara was silent. Falco assumed each officer fought the hellish imagery that was trying to take hold. There could be more of them hiding in the black field. Every klick they moved further from the dark wall, the better.

  “Wait.” Falco turned and faced Ensign Holts. “Have the ‘remnants’ assessed by our munitions techs ASAP—”

  “There.” Commander Shar’ran pointed at the image of a dark field floating on the holo-gram above his station. A faint red flare shone on the face of the wall and disappeared.

  Falco stood, moved toward the Battle-Net station and looked over Shar’ran’s shoulder. The commander remained silent, the Battle-Net sensors focused on the area.

  Captain Falco waited and hoped they could get a lock on whatever still lurked behind the curtain before it could attack. The Anam Cara was underway to Station Pluto at a snail’s pace, trying to reach MACH 1. The growing distance increased their chance of destroying another attacker before it reached them, but the velocity of the objects exiting the wall...

  “What are they waiting for?” Falco said. “They have every advantage. Maybe that was all they had…”

  “Fire,” Commander Shar’ran coldly stated as the Battle-Net lit up with an optical lock. Something had moved beyond the black wall and two missiles were going to erase it. The launch tubes flashed red. Interceptors flew from their cradles, while more reloaded behind them.

  Two red embers streaked away from the Anam Cara. Falco watched their exhaust burn and glow as it dispersed as fast as the efficient engines produced it. Red turned pink and the glow of exhaust disappeared.

  “They’ve slowed,” Falco stated.

  “Missiles are searching,” Commander Shar’ran whispered. “Target has moved back into the field.”

  the Darkness: the Veil

  the Apprentice

  Seekers had ripped through the steel beast following the Prox plan. The voices were hurt and humbled by the power of the Darkness and its clans.

  Again, the young Prox pierced the Veil with her fin. She moved her optical sensors as close to the surface as possible, still unable to see the iron beast, the Darkness no longer allowed her to see through her mass.

  Stay within the Darkness, her mentor cautioned. We have destroyed the parts of the beast that slew the Warruqs and their former LOR. That was their last shared thought and the link was broken. The Prox became individuals and the mentor opened a thought-stream between them.

  The invaders of the Territories are fleeing, the steel beast under their control is damaged and the voices are scattered and afraid, our task is complete. The mentor waited for her apprentice to process the situation.

  We have protected the Creators and their worlds from this enemy of the Darkness, thought the young Prox. But mentor, what are the voices and where did they come from? Should we not learn more of these new beings, these creations? She moved to the edge of the Veil, leaving her mentor and teacher behind.

  Stay within the Darkness! thought the mentor. You are unskilled in using the methane burn— But it was too late, the apprentice could only hear her own thoughts. Curiosity won out, her massive fins working back and forth, moved her hulking carapace through the protective mass of the Darkness to get a glimpse of the Void, the invaders and what lay beyond. An unprotected frontier where fins were of no use and burning methane fuel was required in the cold emptiness.

  Unable to open a thought-stream with her apprentice, the mentor pushed through the Darkness and into the Void. They were not alone. Two objects sprang to life on her optical sensors and charged toward them while the iron beast continued to flee from the Frontier. Fear filled the Prox
thought-stream that was now connected. The apprentice was terrified, unable to use her methane burn in her new environment, her fins flapping and thrashing to no avail without the body of the Darkness to provide resistance.

  The mentor moved in front of her floundering apprentice and adjusted her carapaces plating toward the incoming aggressors, locking her armor in place and hardening it against the coming attackers. With her remaining two Seekers jostling to release from their muscular wombs on her now unprotected back, the older Prox uploaded their mission. The Seekers discharged and ignited their energy bloom.

  The mentor pulsed warnings through their shared thought-stream, but her apprentice could not respond. Fear has frozen your warrior spirit, my apprentice, she thought, learn from this and grow strong.

  Her carapace now fully shielding the young Prox from the coming attackers, the bigger, stronger and wiser, mentor ignited her methane sack. Slamming into her apprentice and sending her tumbling into the safety of the Darkness, the mentor faced the enemy.

  Pain pulsated along her unprotected back she had used to push her apprentice to safety. A growing cloud of methane hung around her, spilling from a breach her protective systems could not staunch.

  The Seekers locked onto the two charging enemies who instantly changed their direction and velocity. The Seekers recalculated the enemy trajectories only to have them move again and again. The injured Prox continued channeling the Seekers visual stream, storing the enemy’s movements and calculating their estimated destination.

  Teaching and protecting her apprentice was her highest calling and her student was safe in the Darkness. The mentor sent a final order to the Seekers, knowing they could destroy one of the enemies if they worked in tandem.

  The adversary tried to evade their pursuit, but it was no match for two Seekers. It erupted into a vast fireball as both Seekers smashed into it in unison. The last of her methane spilled out her fuel sac. The remaining enemy made a slight change in course, straightened and charged toward her.

  Let the clans know of the danger that lurks outside the Territories young one. The Void brings a new enemy of the Darkness. Her final pulse pushed through her open thought-stream, possibly reaching the distant Warruq outposts if they chose to listen.

  The enemy crashed into her plating, sending her to the Realm of Warriors one piece at a time, Oath fulfilled.

  18

  Captain Falco

  Anam Cara

  “Missile one destroyed.” Commander Shar’ran waited as the second missile adjusted its course. “Interceptor two, detonation. Hostile signature is gone.”

  Falco heard trepidation in his commander’s voice, a thread of fear, even doubt. He watched Shar’ran from his captain’s chair. The man sat at his station motionless, his eyes never leaving the Battle-Net feed.

  “Commander?” Falco could see something was wrong. “Report.”

  Commander Shar’ran’s breathing came in deep, rhythmic puffs. “There were two heat signatures for a moment. The interceptors had two locked targets. One target disappeared into the black field.” He turned to face Captain Falco. “Our sensors are worthless… In that.” Commander Shar’ran pointed toward the stern of the Anam Cara and the infinite black mass that hung, a massive storm front in deep space.

  Falco leaned back in his chair. “According to the Battle-Net, Interceptor one was 10.4 seconds ahead of Interceptor two. The enemy sold out and focused on the first missile, but could not fight off the second.”

  Captain Falco slowly looked around the bridge. Lieutenant Wallace was doing everything he could to get the Anam Cara back to Station Pluto as fast as possible. The two thrusters were at full power, engine-one was a lost cause.

  The damage from the second attack was too severe to patch-up without the tools and facilities of a repair bay. Ensign Holts was running through every bit of data the Battle-Net had scanned on the enemy.

  Finally, Falco placed his hands on the armrests and slowly pushed himself into a standing position.

  “Someone has created the technology to hide weaponry in the black field and we have no way of detecting it. A new form of terrorism?” Falco looked around the bridge. “Mining, construction, even exploration will all be at the mercy of something potentially hiding in… literally in the dark.”

  “Like the U-Boats of the old wars before sonar.” Commander Shar’ran rubbed a deep scar on his cheek.

  “Could be as simple as a motion activated missile system,” Falco stated. “Place them, set the sensor and off you go. Whoever gets near them without the proper identification is in a world of pain.”

  “The ultimate, NO TRESPASSING sign,” chimed Lieutenant Wallace from the pilot’s seat.

  “What about the material in the bow of these objects?” Ensign Holts gently shook her head. “Nothing explains that. If there was the tiniest amount of material from a neutron star in these weapons, these objects,” Holts held her hands in the air, “how did someone harvest it and build it into these things? And if that were even possible, the objects would have done more than embed themselves in the Anam Cara, they would have gone through and torn her in half.”

  “Point taken, Holts.” Falco knew where she was going.

  “When has the Battle-Net needed to use its database to estimate scanned materials? Half of its technology and programming is specifically for probing deep into rock and deciding its value as a mining site.” Holts exhaled sharply. “The database contains everything known to humanity at this point in time and yet, in regards to these objects we get, ‘similar to muscle, steel, plastics and material from a neutron star?’ We need to broaden the pool of possible suspects.”

  “Agreed, but this is what we have, Ensign, and little of it makes sense, especially out here. The Pluto Station has been here in one form or another for seven years. They would have picked up a vessel or something that could have placed weaponry this far out.”

  “We have made contact with three unique types of weaponry.” Commander Shar’ran adjusted his holo-feed. “The latter took a missile to destroy and was much larger than the group that chased the Anam Cara. And what about these smaller ones? Think of what they attacked.”

  “They hit us with a few cannonballs! How advanced is that?” Lieutenant Wallace said, as the Anam Cara reached MACH 2.

  “But those ‘cannonballs’ damaged our main engine, destroyed the COMS, and rail guns. Luckily we still had missiles,” Falco could see Ensign Holts locked onto her streaming data-pad, swiping above its surface. “Anything to add, Ensign?”

  “Techs have finished a limited assessment,” Holts turned from the feed, eyes wide and looked towards Falco, “and brought in a lab tech for a dissection.”

  “Dissection?” Falco sat ramrod straight.

  Holts continued, “From the ‘cannonball’ lodged in the rail gunner’s seat,” she paused and gathered herself, “organic matter with some type of bone-like casing, propulsion possibly achieved by burning methane emitted through a highly reinforced vent. If you could harvest it, methane is abundant out here and makes sense to use it for fuel.”

  “So, we have encountered, conceivably, three types of weaponry or a sentry system?” Commander Shar’ran paused, shot a questioning glance toward Falco and back to Holts, “Powered, literally by gas?”

  “Possibly, Commander.” Falco leaned back, crossed his arms. “These ‘cannonballs’, for lack of a better term, attacked the COM-Sat, emergency beacon, rail guns compartment and the main engine. They could not have chosen better areas to hit us if the goal was disablement. But why not destroy the missile bays and the thrusters?”

  Falco had the answer and he was not sure he liked it. “They hit the systems we had already used to either try and contact them or fend off their first attack. We fired off all of the Data-Pods, which were destroyed, save one and that left us with our COM-Sat and emergency beacon. Each was used to attempt contact.”

  “Both were taken out,” Lieutenant Wallace threw in, “and they couldn't know of Station P
luto’s existence. Even if they did, they wouldn’t know their COMs are down, so they took out all of our COM systems to ensure we had no way to send for help.”

  “Maybe,” Falco wondered, “but then they took out the rail guns which had just fired. They could have destroyed us, but did not.”

  “We know someone is using this black field to hide weaponry. Station Pluto has taken a few hits to their COMs over the past year, but that’s it. If the Russian Federation or Euro-Arab League is behind this, why?”

  Ensign Holts turned to face Falco. “Our technology has zero ability to poke holes into anything beyond the face of the field, we are totally blind to what lays behind it. If the Russians or Euro-Arab League have developed this technology, it changes the balance of power. They could place spy facilities, weapons or even militarized space stations right next to us and we would have no idea.”

  “But why now?” Commander Shar’ran’s hands rose off his data-pad. “Why attack us now? Here? Space Station Pluto is only a day and half burn from this location. Clearly someone who could conceal space-based weaponry in a vast black field would know of the station’s military strength? Attacking us shows their hand and gives the United Nations Navy their location.”

  Captain Falco nodded. “What about the ‘anomalies’ hitting Station Pluto?”

  “Our orders stated, ‘they were composed of rock and ice.’ Pieces of asteroids and debris from approximately our current position.” Ensign Holts let the last words hang.

  “Cannonballs launched from within the dark field.” Commander Shar’ran’s voice was low, almost a whisper, “Just like the ones that took out our own COM and rail guns, and damaged our main engine, if they can fire those?”

  “Yes.” Falco fell silent, swallowed hard. “If they can place and operate artillery within the field,” He raised a hand toward the exterior bulkhead. “As Ensign Holts stated, they can hide anything within it.”