Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars

by Iain Richmond

  “Your update for Admiral Chen?”

  Falco thought hard on the orders he gave his officers an hour prior. “Preparations continue on Station Pluto and we are doing everything we can to turn her into Battle Station Pluto…” he exhaled, “with what we have, and Commander Lee, I am deeply sorry for the loss of the battle group’s crew.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I will let the Admiral know you have things well in hand. Lee out.”

  Falco swiped a tired hand across the COM box next to his bunk, barely missing the near empty glass of scotch next to it. The COMs green light faded. Falco closed his eyes, trying to embrace a brief moment of peace in what felt like years. His eyes fell to the bottle of scotch. A necessary drink was never a bad thing, but a bottle? That could change the situation.

  Ensign Holts’s report was a wake-up call and then there was the autopsy findings. Falco swore under his breath. Holts did an exceptional job; the detail in her summary alone gave him confidence in his newfound knowledge of chemistry and biology. From the moment the United Nations named the civilization, the Oortians became a sobering realization. Humanity was sparring with something that lay hidden from their most advanced technologies. “Right on our fucking doorstep,” Falco whispered.

  He had always held out hope that the Russian Federation had finally got their shit together and headed back into space or at least the Euro-Arab League had beaten them to Pluto.

  “But Oortians lurking behind a black field at the edge of our solar system, hammering our ships to scrap... or letting them go.” Falco sat up, listing the casualties. “Captain Fei, the crews of the battle-group, my crewmen, this shit is real, this is happening.” The words sounded from another part of him, a darker side that had been held in check since – Falco swallowed hard – since he met his wife, Luciana.

  His quarters loomed darker, shadows growing and he took another slow sip of scotch that reached the disappointing bottom. Falco looked away from the empty glass, his hand resting on the release of a drawer embedded in the hull near the head of his bunk. The drawer slid out and Falco stared at the photo of his murdered wife and daughter. The picture lay alone, entombed in the steel compartment. He refilled his glass, took another deep draw, ashamed of his need for liquid therapy.

  Commander Lee’s call from 10th Fleet confirmed the worst. Captain Yue Fei and his battle-group were completely destroyed or in a serious shit storm. A brave captain always sends every shred of information on an enemy he can, before he can’t. Fei fit the description of a brave captain.

  Falco reached for the glass and thought better of it. Again, his booze-clouded mind began tracing over his science officer’s report and back to the images of the black skulls or plates or whatever the hell they were.

  “Closest match was the material from a neutron star? What does that even mean? No carbon, sacs laced with methane, things that look like organs, and then add a healthy amount of some unknown element harder than anything known to mankind and weighing as much as a shuttle.” Falco’s whisper grew to a snarl and he threw back another healthy gulp. “Pulverize a few of my crew into hamburger, destroy a battle group, have a fancy fucking skull and BAM!” He smashed the glass against the bulkhead. “You have a fucking Oortian!”

  Fragments of glass and a mist of scotch covered the photo of his wife and daughter; Falco gently pulled the silver frame out of the compartment. His hands shaking, he carefully cleaned it off.

  “I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I failed you both. Seventeen seconds. If I could have fired seventeen seconds earlier… twenty billion people would still be alive. You’d still be alive and I’d be back on Earth.” Tenderly he placed the photo into the drawer and pushed it back into the bulkhead. “Get your shit together, Captain,” Falco told himself as he put the scotch away.

  “How long can it take to turn this neon Frisbee into a defensible fortress anyway?” he grunted while he stood and walked out of his quarters. Falco had gotten word from Commander Shar’ran that the evacuation had gone smoothly. Of the initial inhabitants of Station Pluto, five hundred were left. The rest were packed onto the shuttles, mining boats and anything that had the capabilities for the five-year voyage to Earth. The last vessel to leave included one stowaway, Director Lipinski who had hidden in a storage crate on the supply bay.

  Falco grinned at the thought of Commander Shar’ran having the deck crew stack a dozen crates filled with legumes on top of him. Director should have turned off his locator, his grin turned to a smile, but glad you didn’t. Crew will let him out after a good cry, he thought as the smile faded.

  He paused in front of the newly repaired rail gun compartment. Falco looked at the plate welded to the hatch as he always did since the loss of his crewmen and whispered the same sentence in his native tongue. The words rode a heavy Sicilian accent born of rage and sorrow, “l’eredità degli eroi è il ricordo di un grande nome e l’eredità di un grande esempio (the legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example).”

  Falco ran his fingers over the plate that simply read, Martinez & Conlin, wiped at his eyes and headed for Station Pluto’s ops-center. One stop, he thought as he exited the Anam Cara. He found the hangar COM-box and stood in front of it. Immediately identifying him, a yellow light appeared. Falco cleared his throat, leaned in uncomfortably toward the box. “Anam Cara officers to the Infinity Wall, lotus section.”

  Ensign Holts was last to arrive. She silently joined the awestruck group, adding her subtle reflection to the clear wall looking out onto the universe. Her smooth ebony head and striking features adding comic contrast to the scarred, scruffy and ‘lived in’ features of the four others.

  Falco found their slight reflection off the Infinity Wall comforting. Commander Shar’ran stood a good ten centimeters above himself and Lieutenant Wallace, Ensign Holts was just shy of Falco’s height and then there was the brick of Chief Tenzin. While he stood eighteen centimeters below Falco, he was twice as broad.

  “Four hundred and five vessels beginning ‘the Crawl’,” Commander Shar’ran growled the last two words as he shook his head back and forth.

  “There is always the pungent red-light section on Mars Station to break up the monotony.” Lieutenant Wallace loved to jab his friend and as he and Falco knew, Commander Shar’ran was not fond of confined spaces, let alone five years’ worth.

  “They have a glow. I never knew what they looked like en masse.” The elegant beauty of the solar sails surprised Ensign Holts. “They remind me of a school of jellyfish.”

  “Version fives are the brightest, collect the full spectrum of radiation,” Chief Tenzin stated with pride while the four hundred and five glowing sails pulled their vessels away from Station Pluto.

  “It will take weeks before they reach MACH 2,” Falco stated. The officers stood in silence. The blackness of deep space returned, only the faint silver glow of Pluto adding any kind of warmth. “As we have seen first-hand, the Oortians can easily match our fleets best speeds.”

  His officers remained quiet.

  “Thousands of lives may depend on us.” Falco continued to stare out the Infinity Wall. “If the Oortians attack and we fail to defend Station Pluto,” he turned, to face his officers who continued to look the direction of the fleeing ships, “they all die and that may just be the beginning. You have your orders, let’s get to it.”

  Falco observed the last sail’s glow disappear, its faint warm light replaced by a desperate and hungry cold.

  43

  Chief Engineer Tenzin

  Station Pluto

  Pluto looked distant through the Infinity Wall. She is leaving us alone, Chief Pema Tenzin thought. He walked past a team fitting a final panel on another newly created ‘Battle-Cube’, paused and scrutinized the sizzling epoxy that fused the piece with the others.

  “Make sure you add an airtight hatch on each wall.” The chief continued to examine their work. “Any one of us may be using this bunker. Act as if your own li
ves depend on the work you do now, as it may in the days to come. Damage control is the key to the Infinity Hall. Each bunker must work as an independent unit.”

  The ‘Infinity Hall’ that clung to the edge of Station Pluto was quickly becoming the equivalent of one hundred and fifty foxholes.

  Pema was proud to see a Tibetan engineer leading each team. All of his countrymen had chosen to stay when Chief Tenzin explained in great detail the situation at hand over a mug of Chang. The old Tibet lives on he thought, she embraces her warrior heritage yet struggles to fuse it with her Buddhist longings. Warrior Monks defend, never attack. His thoughts spoke to his ancestors, ancestors he knew were at his side.

  “Chief. How goes the progress?” Commander Shar’ran asked as he pulled himself through the small hatchway of a newly constructed bunker.

  Pema smiled at the giant of a man and felt sympathy for the man’s mother. Childbirth is a warrior’s pursuit of which women are the only ones strong enough to endure, he thought.

  “As you ordered, Commander Shar’ran, we are creating the bulk of the bunkers facing the direction of the Oortian field.” Pema pulled out his data-screen and scanned the completed bunkers. “One hundred completed, thirty-five meters long by ten meters. The remaining fifty will protect our stern and be seventy meters long by ten meters. You realize if we cannot keep the station facing its current direction, the positioning of the bunkers won’t make a difference?”

  “Yes, Chief, duly noted, but we have a plan for that. Did you say one hundred completed? Finished.” Commander Shar’ran looked surprised.

  Tenzin nodded with pride. “Yes, Commander, my crews are incredibly efficient, highly skilled.”

  Shar’ran grunted. “I can see that. What about hatch doors, oxygen feeds, and missile cradles?”

  “All in place, Commander. Oxygen lines feed to separate tanks that are stored outside of the Infinity Bunkers for safety. Extra munitions are stored in old steel mining footlockers bolted to the interior red wall. They should keep a direct hit from taking out more than one or two bunkers.”

  “Rail guns are up and online!” Lieutenant Wallace shouted as he came swimming through the hatch that Commander Shar’ran had literally popped out of. “What is taking you so long, Chief?”

  “Great work, Lieutenant,” Shar’ran said mockingly. “Chief Tenzin only has one hundred chambers completed and fifty in the works. But it is good to hear that the two rail guns are in place.”

  “They’re big, ya bastards! Much bigger than these wee little rooms with a view!” Wallace stormed off grinning, but turned as he opened the hatch to exit the newly created Infinity Bunkers. “Well done, Chief. Thank the Gods you were stationed on this plastic disc.”

  Chief Tenzin and Commander Shar’ran continued going over the checklist when Lieutenant Wallace appeared again from a hatch.

  “Forgot to mention, the captain wants to see us in the Pluto Room in thirty. Update of sorts.” And he was gone.

  Chief Tenzin looked to the commander. “Where did the rail guns come from and where did the lieutenant place them?”

  “They were stored with the old welding equipment, steel plating and rifles.”

  “Rifles?” Tenzin wondered why Station Pluto would have rifles in storage.

  “Not just rifles.” Commander Shar’ran lowered his voice. “Found fifty M40 combat shotguns.” He leaned closer to Chief Tenzin. “If you were going to control riots or other potential hazards, a gas operated semi-automatic 12-gauge made a lot of sense when holes through the hull were not on the list of desired outcomes.”

  Chief Tenzin raised an eyebrow. “And the rail guns?”

  “Lieutenant Wallace placed one on the upper deck and the other in the lower storage compartment. Both have a 360-degree view and the same poly-glass that the Infinity Wall has, the areas are sealed and the infinity glass is cut and ready for removal. Best placement if you only have two rail guns to cover a massive range.”

  The chief was concerned. “Commander, are both guns locked in a fixed position?”

  Tenzin knew the answer before he asked the question based on the time they had and the materials they did not.

  “Yes, Chief, the rail guns are facing the same direction as your one hundred foxholes, towards the Oortian field. They are bolted to the decks. Their range is limited to rails minimal rotation, but still covers a big chunk of space. Rooms are sealed off with oxygen lines and ammo storage just like the bunkers. Two crewmen will suit up, tie into the safety line, punch out the glass and strap in for the show.”

  “No rear guard.” Chief Tenzin exhaled hard. “We can do better, Commander.”

  Shar’ran looked to cut in, but stopped and allowed Chief Tenzin to continue.

  “I can take one of my teams and use the steel plating, strip the wheels off the heavy loaders and use the welding gear stored on deck three to create a revolving base.” Pema’s intensity grew. “We will need the rail guns functional in all directions.”

  “Do it, Chief.”

  “Yes, Commander.”

  “And Chief, I’ll notify the captain of your whereabouts. We can tie you in to the nearest COM-Box if we need to. Tenzin spoke to his crew of engineers, grabbed two of them and headed on his way.

  Commander Shar’ran inspected the hatch leading to the corridor supporting the newly created bunkers. He already missed the view and open space of the Infinity Hall. The nearest COM-Box came to life with Captain Falco’s muffled bark. Shar’ran crawled through the hatch and tapped the side of the COM-Box embedded in the far bulkhead.

  “This is Commander Shar’ran.”

  “Need you in Bay-3. Single incoming Data-Pod, looks to be damaged and I need someone who can still capture it the old fashion way. You’ll need to net it with a bot so Ensign Holts can download the data from it.”

  “On my way, sir.” Shar’ran tried and failed to keep the lightness from entering his tone. “No meeting, I assume.”

  “We’ll send updates through the COMs. On the move, Commander. Falco out.” The COM-Box fell silent.

  Captain Falco rested his hands on the slab top of the long table in Station Pluto’s ops-center. He glanced at Ensign Holts while she followed the visual feed of the Data-Pod’s course and inevitable capture. She was already prepared to download the files from its banks as soon as Commander Shar’ran could wrangle the pod into Bay-3 and attach one of the station’s hardwires to its battered storage banks.

  Falco was impressed with the ensign’s quick, efficient work. He was looking forward to a time when he could get to know her on a more personal level. She had a depth that fascinated him. One day—

  “The signature on the Data-Pod,” Ensign Holts looked up from her screen, “is consistent with the vessel Kuan Ti of Captain Fei’s battle-group.”

  Falco felt a real sense of loss for a captain he barely knew.

  “Ensign Holts.”

  “Captain?”

  “Let Admiral Chen know we have a lone Data-Pod. Signature is a match for the Kuan Ti and it has taken a beating. Also the course it took is outside of the battle group’s last known position and far outside the path of the incoming Pods.”

  “Sir,” the ensign was again scanning the data being uploaded to her screen from Station Pluto’s Battle-Net. Falco patiently waited for the officer to finish her statement.

  “Sir, according to these images, the Data-Pod…” she again paused, her eyes squinting, her head slowly moving from side to side. “Captain the Data-Pod has been damaged. There are multiple impacts,” Holts tapped her screen and zoomed in on the image, “and what looks to be slashes across its plating.”

  The plating that protected the Data-Pods was a blessing and a curse. Heavy steel and lead layers alternated with poly-resins to create a virtually impenetrable shell that protected the data from all known methods of attack from cyberterrorism to a nuclear blast.

  The disadvantage was the downloading of the protected data. The data had to be manually received after the plating-shel
l was unlocked by entering a twenty-one-digit key. If the correct key was not entered within three attempts or if the shell was breached, the Data-Pod would destroy the files.

  Falco studied the images. “Not a surprise based on the battle that must have ensued, but how would a damaged Data-Pod arrive so many hours ahead of the rest of the pods 10th Fleet had informed us about?”

  Holts scanned her screens. “This pod must be separate from the group that passed by 10th Fleet.”

  Falco stood. “That makes twenty-six.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop, “Viper class carry five each?”

  Holts slid a data-pad over and accessed another screen under it. She looked up and Falco froze. The look on her face was enough.

  “Captain,” Ensign Holts pointed to the screen to her left, the image of a grappling-bot towing the netted pod toward Bay-3, “this pod makes twenty-six. The battle group had twenty-five confirmed Data-Pods.”

  “Oh God.” Falco flew towards the COM-Box, placed his mouth inches from the sensor. “Captain Jack Falco, CODE RED.” A red light pulsed on the surface. He punched in his emergency code followed by the three-digit pin for Admiral Chen’s flagship, the Qing Long.

  “God damn it!” Falco shouted at the COM-Box. “CODE RED! Pick it up, Chen!”

  Falco helplessly watched the red light continue to flash.

  44

  Captain Fei

  Kwan Yin

  Captain Fei wiped the sweat off his brow. What began as a sporadic push and pull of air had become a rhythmic inhale and exhale as his officers now fed their lungs in unison. Basic life support was uncomfortable at best. The cold of space could not overcome the intense heat produced by the spinning grav-fluid that traveled between the third and fourth layers of the hull.

  Brilliant engineering, but with the cooling system on low, the entire ship was sitting at a not so pleasant 30.5 Celsius. Thank Lord Buddha for the humidity filters or he and his crewmen would be swimming in their uniforms, he thought. Nothing wasted on a Chinese boat.