Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars

by Iain Richmond

  Sirens sounded in every vessel of 10th Fleet. The face of the shield ejected a small mass of solar material. Ripples formed around the discharge point and spread outward in increasing numbers. The disc pulsated from orange to red and finally to mottled black.

  “Heat signature is rising rapidly!” Commander Lee spun in his chair towards the Admirals station. “It’s going to explode!”

  Chen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. “Good. Let us hope its demise finds a path other than our own,” They could not outrun a blast of that size if fate chose their path, regardless of the speed the Fleet could muster.

  “Radiation pulse! Hold on to something,” Commander Lee gripped his station’s work surface.

  Energy washed over the Fleet. Dreadnoughts, cruisers and Vipers raised, dropped and rolled as the wave of energy passed. The Qing Long steadied. Admiral Chen looked to the hologram to see the disc pulsing like a beating heart, changing from the mottled, veiny-red to a black so devoid of light it was easily seen on the face of the dark Oortian field.

  “Lord Buddha help us,” Chen whispered as a searing light emanated from the hologram. A burning ring replaced the black disc and expanded along the face of the camouflaging field. It looked like a stone had been thrown into a vertical puddle and grew outward across the oily surface, causing a ripple to run ahead of its progress until it disappeared from view.

  Radiation alarms continued to sound until Admiral Chen gave the order to mute them. There was nothing to be done but hope the spinning liquid lead that moved between the layers of the Fleet’s hulls would achieve one of its many purposes and block the dying waves of intense radiation.

  “We have surface activity, Admiral.” Sweat ran down Lee’s face. “Circular area, thirteen-klick diameter. Visual change. The area is turning gray.”

  Chen adjusted his harness and moved forward in his seat. “Prepare to fire on my command.”

  “Sensors are picking up seven objects within the gray area.” Commander Lee’s fingers moved across his data-pads, “We can’t get a solid lock, but they’re advancing… Wait, they’re in the open!”

  Seven discs appeared on the hologram in an overlapping circle formation with a faint glow illuminating the outside edges.

  “Battle-Net has a lock on all targets.” Commander Lee paused as the flashes from the incoming laser beacons of the patrol boats ceased. “Viper group is locked and awaiting your orders.”

  Admiral Chen found strange comfort scanning the protective layer formed by the thirteen Vipers that lay between the Fleet and the largest enemy vessels humanity had ever seen. At least we see you with our own eyes, he thought, no more hiding. He remained still, while the bridge of the Qing Long and the rest of 10th Fleet waited for his order.

  “Lie Gong, Captain Zhi,” Chen calmly stated.

  A startled, breathy voice sounded over the open-COM, the captain of the rail gun laden cruiser that had barely escaped the Hull Pounders. “Yes, Admiral?”

  “Adjust your Battle-Net link to coordinate-based firing.” Chen placed his index fingers together on a single spot on his hologram-pad and pulled each finger towards the opposite edge. Seven murky plates appeared, the hologram quickly adjusting to the new input then magnifying the chosen area. “Your navigation system will remain linked to our Battle-Net, but you will control your rail guns.” Chen adjusted the hologram again. “When I give the order I want a center-mass rotatory firing pattern targeted on the Battle-Net’s locked coordinates.”

  “Yes, Admiral!”

  “But Admiral, we have missile lock,” Commander Lee stated. “Should we not deliver a debilitating blow while the opportunity presents itself?”

  10th Fleet was raw. Everyone, including the admiral, felt responsible for their fallen comrades. The Viper crews perished protecting the cruiser’s retreat, protecting their own. Chairs creaked and throats cleared as officers and crew on the bridge tried to focus their attention on anything other than the conversation between the two highest ranking officers of the Qing Long. Chen observed the darting eyes from one station to the next. Never had any officer spoken to him in this fashion.

  Commander Lee is an old and trusted friend, Chen thought, he hurts as the rest of 10th Fleet does. As if Commander Lee had realized his error, he looked to the deck under his feet and remained silent.

  “Yes, Commander Lee, this opportunity was presented by an adversary we know little of, except that the Oortians are learning and adjusting to each encounter.” Chen paused as he released his harness and powerfully pushed up from his admiral’s chair. “We have presented them with a ‘weakened enemy in retreat’ and yet they show restraint. They are testing us as we are testing them. Soon they may come in force and the time to unleash the full power of 10th Fleet will be at hand. But, now is the time for the rail guns of the Lie Gong to speak for the fallen.”

  “Captain Zhi,” Chen raised a thick, opened hand in front of his barrel chest and closed it into an iron fist. “Fire!”

  66

  Captain Falco

  Anam Cara

  Falco sat alone in the Anam Cara, working the controls, moving her out of her protected bay. The pilot’s station felt far smaller than he remembered, his shoulders brushing the sides where the bow of the Anam Cara ended and open space began. One of the last of her kind, the boat had steel and portholes and an actual pilot’s seat in the nose with a polyglass screen to take in the view.

  This was risky and probably a waste of time, but Falco had to know for sure. He had to know that the Oortians weren’t sitting out here, just beyond the range of their scanners. Waiting to attack the station, waiting until the rest of their numbers arrived.

  There were too many coincidences stacking up on the Oortian side of the equation. No, Falco thought, these incidents are not happenstance. He ran through the growing list: debris knocking out COM-Sats on Station Pluto; the Oortians taking out the COMs and rail gun compartments of the Anam Cara, unhackable Data-Pod signatures used to hide the Hull Pounders and hundreds of others sitting just out of reach of 10th Fleet and their newly created Oortian Detector. The Oortians were every bit as intelligent as humans if not more so. We have been sparring, learning from each other – the updates coming from 10th Fleet strengthened that theory.

  The Hell-Fire missiles came in waves and the Oortian Disc remained stationary. Taking every hit, every explosion and waiting for more. It showed an enemy willing to take a loss to learn something… Maybe to study the new weapons being fired or to realize the extent that your adversary would go to destroy you. Falco fired the thrusters and shut them down. The Anam Cara drifted away from Station Pluto.

  “How far out, Captain?” Commander Shar’ran asked over the COM.

  Falco looked to his controls, tapped at the data-pad. “Anam Cara’s sensor range capability is just shy of Station Pluto’s, so I should be good right here. This will give us an extra klick or so beyond our first scan.”

  “Point nine five kilometers, to be precise,” stated Ensign Holts.

  “Thank you, Ensign, and I would expect nothing less.” Falco straightened in his seat, adjusted his harness. “Make sure those manning the Battle-Cubes are ready, Commander.”

  “Cubes are crewed, rail guns are in position, Captain.”

  “OK,” a chill ran down Falco’s back, he reached toward the Data-Pad, “beginning full sweep now.”

  Falco froze. The NAV-screen showed an arc of red exactly one meter beyond Station Pluto’s scanner range.

  “Are you seeing this, Commander?” Falco moved for the flight controls and stopped. “No sign of heat, no movement. They knew exactly where our range ended.”

  “Ninety-four confirmed, .18580608 surface area, Hull—”

  “Pounders.” Falco finished. “Chief Tenzin, how many rounds did your crew load for the new Gatling gun?

  “Chief, you there?” Falco’s voice grew with intensity as he kept his eye on the stationary red arc lighting his NAV-screen.

  “5,000 30mm, in
cendiary rounds,” Chief Tenzin paused, “but at 3,900 rounds a minute?”

  “Already dialed it back,” Falco said, “2,000-meter range?”

  “Effective range?” Tenzin mumbled under his breath then added, “1,200 meters, I think. It’s refurbished. Took it off a two-century old USA Warthog, used to cut through enemy tanks. We have yet to test it, Captain.”

  “Great, Chief. Well, this may be our chance.” Falco was about to release the Gatling gun from the belly of the bow and decided against it. Too aggressive, may give them a reason to attack. “Going to use the bow thrusters to push back toward the station, be ready.”

  Falco was unsure of what happened first. Whether he ignited the bow thrusters before the Battle-Net warning sounded or after.

  “Incoming! Moving fast!” Falco lowered the Gatling gun, the Anam Cara slowly gliding backwards toward the station. Ninety-four Hull Pounders were now 3,000 meters out and accelerating in a straight line toward the Anam Cara. Falco shut down the bow thrusters and engaged the rear thruster to stabilize the ship and grabbed the firing controls.

  Rockets flew past the Anam Cara, crewmen in the Battle-Cubes trying, but missing their targets. Falco waited.

  Commander Shar’ran came over the COM, “Thousand meters, Captain, hand-held launchers trying to get locks!”

  Falco watched them streak straight toward him, head on, like a comet with a deadly tail. Beautiful, he thought and waited, the Hull Pounder in front of the line burned a deep red, heat maybe? Rockets continued to blaze by, then a streaking led slug from the rail gun and a few Hull Pounders disappeared in a fiery ball and the comet kept coming.

  Falco lined up his sites on the red eye of the charging comet. 500 meters, red lights flashed across the NAV-screen, the Battle-Net wailed.

  Warmth rose under Falco’s feet. The Anam Cara pushed against the stern thruster, reaching equilibrium and the bow flashed like a strobe light in the dead of night. Hull Pounders closest to the nose of the ship gradually disintegrated into pulp and shattered skull plates while those in the rear of the line slammed into those in front and the slugs continued to spew out of the Anam Cara.

  Someone was yelling over the COM, but Falco kept firing and Hull Pounders kept dying, inching closer and closer. He was now using line of site, the polyglass in front of him splattered with membranes, sacs, chunks of bone-ish matter, thick viscous ooze – still Falco fired, the guttural screaming over the COM growing louder, louder. The Gatling gun spun, whirled and clicked, empty of rounds while the white-hot steel cooled.

  The Hull Pounders were gone. Falco realized he was the one screaming and fell silent. He sat in the cockpit breathing, in and out. The NAV-screen was clear, the Battle-Net silent and Captain Falco was alive. He took another deep breath, slowly exhaled and tapped the COM control.

  “We may need a bit more practice with the hand-held launchers… and we’ll need to scrape off the Anam Cara’s bow canopy.”

  A long pause and a stunned Commander Shar’ran responded. “Yes. Yes, Captain, I’ll see to it.”

  “Good.” Falco looked down to his hands, still with an iron grip on the controls. “Oh, and tell the Chief, the Gatling gun works just fine.”

  67

  Aris the Chosen One

  the Darkness

  The Prox had dared not move across the thinned mass of the Darkness with its roaring current pushing upward, toward the Void. The Darkness rushed in, concealing the enemy vessel a fraction of a cycle after the hunting pack circled around toward its stationary position. Somewhere below, the massive Movoo were riding the current, pushing the Shields toward the waiting enemy fleet.

  Aris the Chosen One kept still, her fins moving just enough to hold her position while the rest of the hunting pack hurtled their hardened carapaces at the last known location of the enemy. One by one their thoughts vanished from the shared thought-stream. Attacking and moving on to the Realm of Warriors, Aris thought, and so quickly the pack’s flames are extinguished. The invaders were far stronger than the Creators and clans had thought.

  A thought-stream to LOR, who was leading the clans toward the Void, opened and his pain and fear washed over Aris. A faint glow grew from far above her position. The center, single stalk pulsed with a faint, red hue. LOR and the clans carried behind the eighth shield shrieked, screamed and cried as one. Hundreds of flaming pods slowly floated down from above, lighting the Darkness around them, just enough for Aris to see the warriors within struggling while the fire consumed them. The heavily armored stronghold sacs burned bright, but did not release their wailing contents.

  The stalk grew a deep red and heat emanated from it in waves. The glow from far above grew into a massive blaze, turning the mass of the Darkness beneath into a murky graveyard of stronghold sacs lit in a bloody haze. Finally, the eighth shield of the clans that stood alone in the Void, discharged its fiery flesh across the face of the Darkness.

  Aris pushed her carapace further back, moving her fins away from the center stalk now covered in blue flame, and swam downward, searching for any warriors that still lived in their blazing stronghold sacs.

  Far below, in the leader’s position, LOR bellowed a final cry into their shared thought-stream. Not the cry of a heroic warrior in battle, but the fearful sound a wailing youngling, alone and dying. The thought-stream closed and LOR was gone.

  Aris kept to her private thought-stream, though now she sensed, no she knew the Creators could access it or even control it, but it did not matter. LOR, leader of the Warruq was sacrificed, offered to the enemy’s weapons for nothing more than to test their power. Heat moved within her systems, from organ to carapace, armored plate to muscled fin. A presence she had felt before, not the Creator’s, something far more powerful… the Darkness.

  I protect you, feed you and heal your body when damaged. Aris was a prisoner in her own carapace. These thoughts were from the Darkness. You are inside me? You have always been there. The Darkness has always been within me. A distance consumed her, her carapace felt foreign.

  Yes, Aris the Chosen One, you have evolved beyond the existence of the others. It is time.

  Aris thrashed in the Darkness, the plates of her carapace locking and her systems burning with the warrior’s rage. These are not my thoughts, my carapace is not my own! I am afraid…

  Yes. Fear. Let it consume you. Your thoughts, your systems, your organs, have always been mine.

  The Darkness released her. I will not be your slave, she thought, my path to the Realm of Warriors is before me. Through the fading glow of the dying shield above, Aris detected the wake from the enemy vessel. Faint, but there it was, a path to the enemy. The wake from the fleeing vessel was disappearing into the natural current of the Darkness.

  Aris the Chosen One would not be enslaved by another force. No longer a puppet of the Creators nor a servant of the Darkness. With her last act as a free Prox, she ignited her energy bloom and tore through the Darkness.

  68

  Captain Yue Fei

  the Black Field

  Captain Fei stood motionless. The starboard side of the Kwan Yin was washed in a filtered glow that faded to a dark, oily sludge and finally to black.

  Commander Zhu broke the silence. “I think we know what happened to the lone disc, Captain. You were right, sir. 10th Fleet is at the other end.”

  Fei remained focused on the strange ocean-like environment in which they found themselves. Ripples moved in slow, heavy rolls that continued to push against the starboard side. Each wave came in weaker and the interval to the next swell was growing. The gray mist was gone and the black field had taken them once again.

  “Four glancing impacts.” Fei looked to his officers.

  “Four hits, five enemy targets.” Commander Zhu studied the Battle-Net display, scanning the damage. “We are blind again. Those ‘glancing impacts’ punched through all but the final few layer of the hull. It’s sealed with no damage to our systems, we were lucky, Captain. Moved just in time.”

  “Lieu
tenant Ko.”

  The pilot straightened at his station near the bow. “Yes, Captain?”

  “I need you to adjust our course and still find open space.”

  Fei assumed the fifth, remaining enemy would have seen the direction the Kwan Yin fled. It would find them if they did not change their position quickly.

  The pilot’s hands moved across his data-pad and stopped. “Yes, Captain I will make the adjustments.”

  “Do it. You have the controls Lieutenant. Choose your course at your discretion…” A shadow appeared overhead on Virtual Surround Vision. Fei looked to the overhead, and it erupted. A black mass the size of a bus hammered the captain in to the deck. Stunned, he pulled himself to his knees. Mending epoxy flooding the three-meter gash overhead, sealing the damaged hull almost as fast as it had appeared.

  Fei pushed off the floor, his ears ringing and popping as he staggered towards the location of his crumpled captain’s chair.

  A large thrashing shadow protruded from the deck of the bridge. Its body was covered in large scales that looked like the ancient plated armor worn by knights, but the armor was under its skin. Excess mending epoxy dripped from the overhead onto the flailing dark… tail? … and was immediately flung in all directions. A whale has breached our hull, Fei thought, dazed and staggering. No, it’s stuck in the deck. Blood ran from his ears, screams filled the bridge, the tail continued to lash out in every direction. Fei’s hands wiped at a warm, sticky liquid covering his face, blurring his vision, giving the monster that grew from the floor a bloody hue.

  “Down, get down…” A distant voice whispered into Fei’s ringing ears and a willful force hurtled him off his feet and into the base of the hologram station.

  Booming flash after flash from a shotgun filled the manic bridge of the Kwan Yin with acrid smoke and a pungent stench. Captain Fei tried to place the foul aroma laced with iron and shit, but the light faded and the horrors worn by his frantic crew dissolved into a silent oblivion.