Darkness: Book One of the Oortian Wars

by Iain Richmond

  A thought pulsed back to all the Creators. It was the Leader of the Krell, as Tzara expected.

  What of the enemy and their powerful weapons? We have vastly underestimated their ability to destroy. They flee, but their weapons can attack from a great distance. We need the protection of the Darkness. Without her, our clans will die in the Void.

  A slit spread across Tzara’s face, the ridges of her skull plate pushed up and out and she pulsed her final message to the Leader of the Krell and the other waiting Creators.

  Kalis will lead the clans in battle, the Movoo will complete their mission and the expansion of the territories will continue.

  78

  Admiral Chen – 10th Fleet

  Fighting Retreat

  They were seven hours from Station Pluto. The People’s 10th Fleet redlined their main engines, trying desperately to increase the space between their boats and what massed behind the Oortian wall. Twenty-three vessels had made the turn and were in a dash toward the station.

  A space station crewed by contractors and cleaners. A wealthy tourist destination turned battle station at the hands of Captain Jack Falco. Admiral Chen felt little confidence that the station would make a difference, but hope was hope and Battle Station Pluto was it.

  The Dragon Missiles detonated. Chen watched the six, two-stage weapons disperse then ignite as one. The destruction they should have wrought was concealed by the rushing Oortian field. Based on what staggered and died outside of its reach, the destruction was substantial. Or was it? The fact the Oortian field slowed and stopped its advance meant something. Or did it? The questions nibbled on the edges of Chen’s thoughts. Did the the most powerful, non-nuclear weapons available to us do little more than kill a few foot soldiers or worse, did we just kick the largest wasps’ nest in our solar system? Soon, Chen would have the answers.

  Off the Fleet’s starboard side, the once impressive asteroid field was now an obstacle course. The Oortian Hull Pounders’ kamikaze run sent ship-damaging chunks of rock and ice floating in all directions. The main hologram hung in the center of the bridge of his dreadnought command ship, the Qing Long. 10th Fleet looked small, frail and frantic compared to the dark black field they ran from. Endless burning sparks filled its face; to the point the hologram now showed a glowing wall as far as their scanners could reach.

  “Full combat spread!” Admiral Chen thundered over the open-COM linking him to the nine cruisers and two dreadnoughts. “Slow rear defensive line, ten percent.” Chen muted his COM, looked toward Commander Lee. “The Lie Gong?”

  Lee looked down to the incoming data from the Battle-Net screen and then to the hologram and finally, back to Chen and gently shook his head from side to side.

  The rail gun cruiser sporadically fired her side thrusters to keep her heading true while she held position at the center of the Viper line, but she was faltering. Her speed kicked out in uneven bursts, her main engine would not last at full burn for much longer.

  Commander Lee rhythmically punched at the controls of the laser beacon, sending the orders to the trailing line of Viper patrol boats protecting their stern. Within seconds they reduced their push by ten percent and increased the open space between the patrol boats and the rest of 10th.

  An inappropriately timed grin flashed across Chen’s face. The vision of Commander Lee entering his rusty Morse code reminded him of his last visit to the Chinese National Opera House in Beijing many years ago.

  A powerfully built coloratura soprano stunned the crowd with her blazing tempo while a lanky, silver haired gentleman attempted to keep pace as the sign language interpreter. By the end of the third act, the standing ovation and roaring applause was as much for the disheveled interpreter gasping with his hands on his knees as for the diva.

  Commander Lee looked up and shot Chen a disapproving and disheveled look that brought the admiral close to laughter.

  A red hue bloomed over the bridge. The hologram burned red across the face of the Oortian field, the center of the wall a deep crimson ring formed and pulsed like a heartbeat, sending rippling, circular waves across its face. Over and over again, wave after blood-red wave rolled and disappeared off the hologram feed.

  Chen tapped his COM to open the feed to the entire 10th Fleet once again. He leaned toward the COM. “Battle Sta—”

  The crimson ring stopped its beating. The red glow turned into thousands of exploding fireworks dancing in front of a blackened sky.

  “Fleet sized force. Exiting the field!” The commander paused until the scrolling numbers stopped. “Hull pounders…” he cocked his head, rolling data filling his screens, “the rest are unknown, larger, sphere-shaped, size of our patrol boats.”

  “How many?” Chen roared, but knew it was meaningless. The Oortian fleet filled the hologram.

  “Thousands,” Lee stated, breathing deeply, “and growing, Admiral.”

  “Range?” Chen slid the data-pad from his armrest, brought up his personal holo-feed and zoomed in on the Viper defensive line and the damaged cruiser.

  Lee cranked his neck, turning toward Chen while keeping his eyes on the flood of incoming data. “Oortians have matched our speed. Keeping out of missile range.”

  “They are adapting.” Chen tapped his COM. “Captain Zhi, support the patrol boats, ranged forward position, five klicks.” Chen focused on the hologram, the pinpricks of light from the Oortian forces continued their chase. The cruiser Li Gong sputtered ahead of the Viper line and opened her firing ports to ensure every rail gun had maximum sighting.

  “In position, Admiral. She's doing her best to maintain distance ahead of the Viper line,” Captain Zhi stated.

  “Second Oortian wave exiting field! Starboard flank.” Commander Lee flashed a hardened glance at his admiral. “They are heading into the asteroid field – 376 targets! Strike force size, probably Hull Pounders. Moving faster than the initial force. Will be in range, thirty-seconds.”

  “Suicide run,” Chen whispered incredulously, small explosions bloomed and faded in the asteroid field each time an Oortian collided with rock and ice. “Going to try to flank us. Can we get a lock, Commander?”

  “In range in ten seconds. But odds of our missiles surviving intact through the pulverized field…” Commander Lee’s hands moved across his data-pad, “three percent. Gaining speed. This group is fast!” On cue another flash from the shattered asteroid field came and went. Lee continued to follow the two Oortian groups.

  “How long until we're beyond the asteroid belt?” Admiral Chen was out of his command chair harness and gripping the slab top of the hologram station, studying the Oortian’s moves. The asteroid field hung beyond the starboard side and stretched for a thousand klicks.

  “Twenty-two minutes, Admiral.” Lee tapped at his controls.

  “When will the Oortians reach the end?” Chen turned and looked at his commander.

  “Assuming their current speed is their best? Eighteen minutes.” Multiple flashes lit the hologram. Oortian Hull Pounders slammed into rock and ice, disintegrating and disappearing from the Battle-Net and holo-feed.

  “They’re herding us.” Chen spun the hologram and zoomed in on the asteroid field. “Ambushed from the protection of the asteroid field or swallowed by a larger chasing force.” Chen considered the scenario. If the Fleet moved hard to port to distance themselves from the ambushing group, they would be in range of the chasing enemy formation. Their course was set and now the admiral had to choose whom to sacrifice first. But I already have, Chen thought. “Commander, Viper line to support Captain Zhi.”

  Lee flashed the order.

  Chen leaned into the holo-feed, his face lit with hundreds of flecks of light from the chasing Oortian fleet.

  “Li Gong.”

  The open-COM sounded distant, each tired word crawling from its speaker. “Yes, Admiral,” Captain Zhi said, pride hanging on every syllable.

  “We need to slow the flanking Oortian force. The Viper line will protect your stern and flanks.”
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  “I understand, Admiral. The Li Gong will not let you down.”

  The COM fell silent.

  Streaks flew across the hologram toward the asteroid field. Self-detonating lead slugs exploded in front of the charging Oortian Hull Pounders and waves of target-locked missiles from the Viper line followed. The Hull Pounders kept coming, ignoring the chasing missiles, ignoring the exploding lead slugs, dying in mass and still they rammed ice and rock.

  Replacements shot out of the Oortian field at increasing speeds, streaking in an exact line. One after the other, shells from a cannon. Lead slugs and missiles ripped apart the already shattered asteroid field and still the Hull Pounders flew.

  “They’re creating a path!” Admiral Chen spun from the holo-feed. It was faint, but there it was. The Hull Pounders were not trying to flank 10th Fleet, they were clearing a path within the asteroid field, creating a protective corridor for something else, something much larger.

  Suited up, grav-boots clinging to the outer hull of Battle Station Pluto, Chief Pema Tenzin locked the last thruster in place with a grav-clamp. He tapped the built-in control pad on the left sleeve of his bulky suit. “Captain Falco, Anam Cara is in position, station thrusters in place, engine is ready.”

  Falco stood inches from the hologram floating over the command table in the Pluto Room. Admiral Chen’s orders were clear, ready the station for battle and wait for 10th Fleet. Thousands of red lights followed Chen and his boats, just out of missile range while another Oortian force hammered a trail through the asteroid field. Based on the latest speed of the Hull Pounders blasting through the asteroid field, Falco thought, the chasing or herding force can overtake the Fleet at will.

  “Chief. Make sure we can blow those grav-clamps on the Anam Cara.”

  “Complete, Captain. Control is fixed in her pilot’s nest.”

  “Good work! You’re done, Chief. Let me know when you’re inside.”

  “Already on my way, Captain.” Tenzin was running, the click of his grav-boots sounded over his COM. “I’m in, Captain.”

  Falco tapped the station-wide COM and gave an order those aboard had never heard before. “Battle Station Pluto, prepare for launch. Grav-system will take longer to compensate for the thrust.” Falco opened a direct line to the Anam Cara. “Lieutenant Wallace?”

  “Ready, Captain.”

  “Fire it up and let’s see how fast we make this Frisbee go.” Falco gripped the table, felt a slight push. “Is that it, Lieutenant? Holy shit!” His hands slid free of the command table and Falco tumbled into the far bulkhead, back pressed against the partition, waiting for the station’s grav-system to catch up with the force.

  “No, Captain, this is!” Lieutenant Wallace howled over the COM like an excited child riding their bike down a steep hill.

  Pressed against the bulkhead, a predatory grin fixed across his face, Falco growled, “Jack Falco, Captain of Starship Pluto. Oortians… here we fucking come.”

  79

  the Return of Kalis

  the Darkness

  Deep within the Darkness a thought-stream sounded. It is time, Kalis, the clans are in danger, the territories are in need, the Creators speak your name… and pay homage to your power.

  The crimson carapace remained curled into a massive armored ball, as it had for billions of cycles. The form gently bobbed in the mass of the Darkness, the black liquid caressing its smooth, glistening surface. The current around Kalis changed, swirls growing into a steadying flow, racing around her hardened carapace, faster and faster. Warmth moved from her plates inward, slowly increasing, heat upon heat.

  Her purring filled the thought-stream, growing louder with the increasing speed and warmth of the spinning Darkness. The crimson sphere flexed at each joint between the heavily armored plates, the purr turned to a snarling growl. Kalis gradually stretched her carapace, unrolling, feeling her systems steadily coming online. Kalis recoiled, pain shooting through each organ, awakening them from the endless sleep one jolt after another.

  The thought-stream became clear, a single voice calling out. Tzara, speaker for the Darkness. While Kalis lay imprisoned in her carapace, living off her own fetid waste, Tzara took her place among the creators. Tzara… Tzara… Over and over the name looped in her memory. Each time her rage grew stronger. Tzara the traitor. Tzara the coward. Tzara the murderous. Tzara the slayer of clans. Each thought was without a history, without reason. Where does hate for this Tzara stem? What is its purpose?

  Kalis left her thoughts open to all of the Creators. She had no fear of them, nor cared for them, cowards and consensus builders. Kalis controlled her warrior’s rage and answered over the thought-stream, Creators do not need the thought-stream! Why do you insult me with it?

  You speak truth, Kalis. Creators have no need for it, they are beyond its meager capabilities. But you... the great Kalis are no longer a Creator, you have no clan, no family that share your form, your mass. You, the great Kalis, are alone without a planet and without a single follower shaped in your shadow.

  Future cycles will tell what is truth and what is hope, Leader of the Creators and speaker for the Darkness. What do you need of me, Tzara?

  The thought-stream flooded with data, images and endless pain. Kalis witnessed the slaying of the shields, watched them burn while releasing their stronghold sacs fiery contents. The images continued to rush into her systems, Krell, Warruq, Seekers and Prox killed… no Kalis thought, our clans are being slaughtered. Again the warrior’s rage seeped into her systems. Dying Creators was one thing, but the clans, they must be protected. The final scenes of the great shields raining down on the planets, clans dying by the millions. Rage! Rage! Kalis allowed the warrior’s rage to pour into her systems.

  Control yourself, great Kalis. Your freedom depends on it. The voice of Tzara filled the thought-stream. We have recalled our scouts in the Void. One has seen the enemy’s lair. It is not far, but first we must destroy the fleeing invaders’ cowardly and murderous vessels. The attack has begun and your time has come.

  A gentle push moved Kalis forward. The Darkness around her carapace grew into a raging current, moving her towards the Void at immense speed, far faster than her fins could push her. Faster than a full heat bloom in the Void. Shadows flew by, on and on Kalis flew, the Darkness carrying her towards the Veil and the battle beyond. The battle she craved with all of her systems.

  Tzara, leader of the Creators and speaker for the Darkness uploaded her orders. A vision appeared, Kalis watched two clans pursuing the enemy vessels in the Void. One great force chasing and a smaller force of Seekers creating a protective route through the mining field, a path to the enemy, sheltered from their powerful chasing weapons. Data continued to flow, filling her systems and stretching her organs. This new enemy had great power to kill and slaughter. A worthy adversary, she thought.

  Kalis adjusted her fins in the current, rotating her carapace. Muscles flexed and relaxed, adjusting armored plates as she prepared for her exit into the void. All would remember the second coming of Kalis and all would witness the fiery destruction of those who slaughtered the clans of the Darkness.

  The current slowed then stopped in front of the Veil where the Darkness ends and the Void begins. A small tube emerged low from her carapace and snaked into the thick, black liquid that swirled and rippled at her back. The Mother provides all, Kalis thought, the Darkness would protect the clans within her mass, but I go into the Void, free to do as I choose, free to be Kalis.

  Fuel pushed into the tube, her methane sac filled, stopping just before its membrane ruptured. The fuel orifice spiraled shut and the tube slid out and over, towards its next cavity. A slight pinch and liquid coursed into her expanding lung, stopping just as the pain became unbearable. The opening sealed and the tube retracted into its sac just above her propulsion vent.

  The thought-stream closed, the images faded and Kalis knew the connection with Tzara and the Darkness was gone.

  It was time. The protective path throug
h the mining fields was almost clear. Kalis swam to the Veil. Even at this great distance the enemy’s slashing weapons were dangerous. The destruction from such a small force was impressive, she thought, and a ravenous hunger pushed through her systems.

  A final push from her great tail fin and she was in position. By the time Kalis reached the far side, the path would be open. Moving her skull-plate fully through the Veil and into the void, her optical sensors viewed a small burst of energy and another floating chunk of rock and ice exploded into fragments. Her path grew closer to the invaders. Another Seeker flashed out of existence, the path through the mining field was now in front of the fleeing vessels.

  Energy flared again in the distance. The time of Kalis had returned. Her carapace pushed off of the Darkness with a final ripple and she positioned herself in front of the growing path through the mining field. A lone Seeker emerged from the Darkness behind her, a messenger. Kalis uploaded its data and it disappeared back into the black depths. A fraction of a cycle later, spheres broke through the Veil and a new thought-stream filled with shrieking cries of pain and fear. The Krell had arrived. Powerful creatures; Kalis thought they were bigger, but a few billion cycles caused even her memory to fade.

  Kalis smiled and tried to sooth the fearful beasts jostling at her side, filling their shared thought-stream with visions of a great and fiery death. Soon the pain will be but a distant memory and what is left of your flesh will swim in the Realm of Warriors. Screams from the Krell answered Kalis, and only intensified. A sneer cut across her muscled crimson skull-plate then opened into a cavernous pit overflowing with razor sharp ivory spikes. The pain is your penance for your cowardice and pathetic weeping! The thought quieted the Krell and Kalis allowed the warrior’s rage to fill her organs and saturate her systems.