The Seryys Chronicles: Steel Alliance

by Joseph Nicholson

  Vor’l’s ship, the Fur’l—named after his great grandfather, aimed one of its mandibles at the sun’s position and fired a single projectile. As the torpedo sped away, Vor’l turned to his helmsman and said, “Move us to a safe distance.”

  “At once!” he barked. The fleet backed off as the torpedo penetrated the upper layers of the star. Within seconds, the sun visibly dimmed as the torpedo detonated within. Black matter swirled around the sun from all directions, being drawn inward to the center of the sun where the explosion occurred to form a small black sphere at the center. Giant flares lashed out in all directions, one whipping across the landscape of the nearest planet cutting long, deep swaths in it, like a master whipping the back of his slave. Another flare extended to the third planet, whipping it in half and sending debris in all directions. Finally, in its death throes, the sun collapsed as the torpedo disrupted the gravitational pull and the sun literally came apart in a massive conflagration of yellows, reds and oranges.

  Shockwaves of iridescence ravaged the spacescape for millions upon millions of miles in every direction. The remaining planets shattered at impact. Vor’l watched with satisfaction as the whole star system was obliterated.

  “Alpha!” his weapons officer called out. “We had a successful detonation. Nothing lives.”

  “Good, but this wasn’t our target,” Vor’l said.

  “What do you mean?” he asked his commander.

  “Are you blind or just stupid?” Vor’l snapped. “Why did not a single ship come to stop us, hmm? Why isn't there ship debris in that asteroid field? These Seryysans are clever; they would never make finding their home world this easy.”

  “Then why, may I ask, my Alpha, did you waste a Starblast on it?”

  “Because they were watching, of that I am certain. Now they know what we are capable of and they will live in constant fear of our arrival when we finally do find their home world. And it is only a matter of time.

  It had been several hours since he had heard from Puar, but he knew that he and his team were working diligently to get the ship up and running. He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours and his eyelids had been getting heavy as of late. He allowed himself a brief moment of shuteye that instantly turned into a several-hour slumber.

  “Khai!” Puar shouted, waking Khai out of his slumber.

  “What?” he asked groggily.

  “Well, while you’ve been napping in here, we had some magic happen!”

  Khai sat up straight at looked Puar straight in the face. “What kind of magic?”

  “Sibrex and I were digging in the main computer while getting the helm slaved to the Bucket’s and Splitter’s computers when we stumbled upon a protocol that, in the event of hull breach—or any other event where the crew was killed, the main computer will connect to the designated flagship and slave to it.”

  “So we could, in theory, fly every ship out of here and pilot them all from the Cerys II?”

  “Exactly!” Puar said with the excitement of a child.

  “Is the Cerys II operational?”

  “Just ran the final tests and Sibrex is fairly certain we’re ready to sync the computers.”

  “How long will it take to get the other ships operational?” Khai asked.

  “Now that we know how to do it—and we’re only getting the main computers, weapons and engines online, we should be able to do a ship in two hours.”

  “So, two hours, fifty ships. That’s—”

  “A hundred hours, I know,” Puar interrupted.

  “I suppose you ought to get to work, then,” Khai said with a grunt as he leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet up on the dash.

  The cockpit was silent for a good ten seconds. “You’re an ass,” Puar growled as he left the cockpit. It was going to be a very, very long week.

  Khai felt useless. Though he could do a mean field repair on just about anything, when it came to advanced technology, he was at a loss. After leaning back in his chair for ten minutes, and feeling restlessness tugging at his patience, he absentmindedly wondered what Brix was doing. He thought he heard Puar say something about the engineering teams using him as workhorse, carrying equipment and gear, whatever they needed. He was definitely getting his workout and with that thought, he got up and went to his quarters on the port side of the ship. Along the aft wall was a button that when pushed, revealed a small workout station with the weights installed within the wall. He sat down on the bench that folded out and set it to the maximum weight. When he pressed it all with ease, he called out to the Splitter’s onboard computer.

  “Joon?”

  “Yes, Khai?”

  “Engage the artificial gravity and increase the pull by a factor of four.”

  “As you wish.”

  Instantly, he felt gravity pulling harder at him. It whisked him back to Gor’Tsu Gorn Planet where he was trained as a killer. He remembered his first few days there, the pain, he had cried and cried. Being just a kid, a few years shy of adolescence, he was not prepared for the extreme gravity that greeted him when stepping off that ship. As an orphan, he became a ward of the state and was sent to the training facility there. His training was brutal, long and in-depth with top notch education in all fields of study from grammar to advanced naval strategy. He came out at the top of his class and steadily climbed the ranks. Along the way, he achieved more medals of honor than he could count and enjoyed great success. However, he also saw many of his friends die, some in ways one couldn’t even imagine. He also developed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder that plagued him for years after he retired.

  Now, he was back in action, a General who was, until recently, in command of a reclamation program to find a new home for the displaced Vyysarri. That mission went horribly awry when saboteurs destroyed his ship, the Vyysarri, a colossal Courage-Class Dreadnaught that boasted the first Seryysan/Vyysarri crew.

  Thought it had only been a few weeks, it seemed like the destruction of the ship was a lifetime ago. The monsters of nightmares, the Reapers, were leaving a path of destruction in their wake, the Vyysarri were about to go on the offensive against their Seryysan brothers once again after a few years of blissful peace between the two peoples. His three best friends, Sibrex, Dah and his wife, Brindee, were hospitalized—two presumed dead at one point or another.

  Brindee. How he missed her. She was still in a medically-induced coma at the Joon Memorial Hospital on Seryys IV when he left on his current mission. Also, he and the whole galaxy lost one of the kindest, most amazing women to ever live, Joon. She was the only person to show him any kindness when he was nothing more than a little street urchin begging for food. He would go to this little hole-in-the-wall diner down the street from the box in which he lived and she would give him pieces of her home-made pie. But now she was dead, killed by the Kil’Jah Assassins who were sent after Brindee. Though, Khai was able to defeat them, he couldn’t save the woman who was the closest thing he ever had to a mom. It seemed that his life these days was filled with nothing but strife and sorrow.

  The sweat was pouring down his face as he continued to work out. “Joon, increase gravity by two hundred percent!”

  “Khai, I must warn you at that many g’s you run the risk of serious injury.”

  “JUST DO IT, JOON!”

  “Okay! If that’s what you want.”

  The weight increased and Khai growled with excursion. The pain made him forget about everything for just a little while…

  “Reduce the power to the aft conduit while I maneuver the tester into place,” Sibrex called out to one of the engineers aiding him in getting the Zeus up and running. “Let us hope this conduit doesn’t need to be replaced.”

  “Got it,” All’Vyyn Altarr called out. “Power reduced now.”

  “Thank you, Ensign.”

  Sibrex was feeling weak. He hadn’t fed in just under a week. Khai kept synthetic blood on hand in case of an emergency, but no mat
ter how much of that stuff he drank, his thirst was never satisfied. It actually held no nutritional value, but he was so touched by Khai’s efforts he didn’t have the heart to tell him. The tester fell from his hands and landed between two small conduits just beyond his reach.

  “Blast!” he spat.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Dah asked from catwalk far above in the engine room.

  “It is nothing. Just clumsy, old hands.”

  “I don’t buy it,” Dah responded. “When did you feed last?”

  “It has been six standard days,” Sibrex responded.

  “Sibrex!” Dah snapped angrily. “How are you even functioning?”

  “I will manage,” Sibrex said stubbornly.

  “No you won’t,” Dah shot back. “You’re probably anemic! Why aren’t you at least taking the edge off with Khai’s synth supply. He keeps it on board just for you, you know.”

  “It’s NOT BLOOD!” Sibrex boomed. Dah recoiled ever so slightly. He saw the scared look on Altarr’s face. “I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  Dah sighed and jumped over the railing and repelled down to the floor next Sibrex and Altarr.

  “Look,” Dah offered. “You’re no good to us half awake. We can’t afford to have you make a mistake that could get us all killed. Not to mention the fact that we’re going to need you when we get out of here.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Sibrex asked impatiently.

  “Feed on me,” Dah offered.

  “No,” Sibrex said immediately. “I can’t do that. It is not an enjoyable experience for the bitten, trust me.”

  “I know,” Dah rebuked. “Khai told me all about it. But if it means your survival…”

  “I will need more than one person to satisfy my thirst,” Sibrex added. “Lest I bleed you too far and deprive you of a working supply.”

  “I’ll call Khai and Puar. I’m sure they’ll volunteer, too.” Before Sibrex could protest, he was on his com unit. “Khai, Puar, report to the Zeus immediately.”

  “Rushing is not…” Sibrex began to protest as he slumped against a console and slid down to his backside.

  “Whoa!” Dah yelped and jumped to his side.

  “Perhaps… you were… right,” Sibrex said, his eyes rolling back in his head.

  “Guys, hurry!” Dah shouted into his com unit.

  Within in five minutes both Puar and Khai entered the engineering level at a dead run. When Khai saw Sibrex slumped against an engineering console, he shouted his name and ran faster. He got there a few seconds before Puar and knelt next to him.

  “What’s wrong?” Khai asked Dah.

  “He’s starving to death!” Dah said, frustration and concern bleeding through his tone.

  “I have a whole cooling unit with synth blood in it!” Khai snapped. “Why haven’t you been drinking it?”

  “I can’t drink it. Synth blood is designed to assimilate the patient’s blood type and adapt. When it’s introduced to my digestion track, it’s simply pushed through as an unwanted substance,” Sibrex said weakly.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Khai asked, more concern than anger in his voice. “I could’ve stopped by a blood bank or something.”

  “I wanted you to know that I appreciated the gesture.”

  “Well I know,” Khai answered. “Now what do we do?”

  “I need blood,” Sibrex said directly.

  “You need not ask, friend,” Puar said, pulling his collar down and readying himself for a bite.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Sibrex smiled. “Besides, as I was telling Dack, it is not a pleasurable experience. The neural toxin contained in my venom ducts is quite potent.”

  “So how, then?” Dack asked.

  “IV,” Sibrex answered, even fainter than before.

  “Let’s get him to the Splitter,” Khai said. “The automated system should be able to draw our blood.”

  “Right,” Puar said, turning on his heel and sprinting for Khai’s ship.

  Khai helped Sibrex to his feet, and realized how bad he really was. Sibrex was basically dead weight in his arms. As they entered the room, Puar was already hooked up and having his blood drawn by the mechanical appendages that dropped down from the ceiling. The blood dripped into a beaker. After a few minutes, a bell rang and Joon’s voice came over the speakers. “Maximum safe limit of blood extraction has been met.”

  “Keep going, Joon. It’s okay, a little more will be fine,” Puar said.

  “No. Two pints is the limit and I don’t want a cadaver stinking up my corridors. Next please.”

  Khai smiled. He loved his computer’s attitude. Grumbling while the appendages removed the needle from his arm and applied a patch, Puar slipped off the fold-down table. Khai took the beaker and knelt down to offer it to Sibrex, who took it and drank feverishly. Blood seeped out the corners of his mouth as he guzzled the thick, red liquid. It tasted good going down and he could feel the warmth beginning to return to his skin.

  “More… please…” Sibrex whispered.

  Without hesitation, Khai rolled up his sleeve and made his way to the table but before he could sit, Dah was already laying there as the appendages dropped down to pop the needle in his vein.

  “Too slow, old man!” he joked.

  “Whatever, just saving the best for last,” Khai shot back.

  Dah finished donating two pints and Khai offered it to Sibrex. After drinking up one more pint, Sibrex was able to get to his feet. “Thank you, all of you.”

  “Do you need more?” Khai asked.

  “No, that should hold me over for now.”

  “Good,” Khai said lying down on the table. “Then this can be dinner.”

  “Joon, how often can we give blood?”

  “I wouldn’t suggest doing this again for at least a month.”

  He gave his two pints and stayed. “Khai what are you doing?”

  “I’m making sure our friend here has enough to eat while we’re out in the Unknown Regions. He will be hungry again before we get out of here.”

  “Need I remind you that you have met your limit? Any more and you could die.”

  “Puar, go to the cooling unit and grab two bags of the synth,” Khai ordered.

  Bags hooked up, Khai ordered Joon to take two more pints of blood and transfuse the synth immediately afterward. Khai remained lying on the table for a few hours until the synth blood took hold and changed. In some rare cases, the body wouldn’t assimilate the synthetic blood. In that situation, emergency steps would need to be taken. While Khai waited for the synth blood to be integrated into his bloodstream, the others got back to work. They had gotten ten ships running in two days with four crews of six people working nearly ’round the clock. They still had forty ships to go, a long road by any standard.

  After Joon was convinced that Khai’s blood had assimilated the synth blood, she let him go back to the cockpit where he started working out ship formations and designating them. He knew that even with the crew he had, they couldn’t handle every aspect of running the Cerys II without the aid of the computer so if he could get some of the operations to respond to voice command, he could take a lot of the pressure off of his crew.

  Chapter Two

  Prime Minister Puar had just received word from SCIIA that their decoy star system met its demise at the hands of the F’Rosian fleet! The images that he saw were high-definition snapshots taken every one and a half seconds by their spysat in orbit. His disposition got grimmer and grimmer with each slide he saw. By slide thirty, he was tempted to turn it off, but a sick fascination kept him glued to each image as they appeared. Maybe I should’ve finished that resignation…

  “What’s your take on this, Admiral?”

  Admiral Raad’Ryyk Ryynaall furrowed his brow. His dark eyebrows drew together and his pale green eyes betrayed the fear he was feeling. With the loss of the Sixth Fleet and the Courage, admiral positions were opening up all over and Raad was quick to apply. He was barely in his forties—smar
t, cunning and decisive. He was dashingly handsome with long, brown hair pulled back in a ponytail; a goatee and mustache trimmed perfectly, a pressed uniform that was all black from neck to ankle, and black shoes that appeared to have been polished minutes before calling the Prime Minister.

  “We’re as baffled as you are, sir.”

  “Is it Bright Star tech?” Puar asked, referring to a weapon that Seryys had used to revert the Vyysarri sun back to an earlier, brighter stage in its life, ultimately forcing them to leave the planet and starting a multi-century war.

  “We don’t think so, sir,” the young admiral said. “Our scientists hypothesize that it’s a weapon that disrupts the magnetic polarity that keeps suns together. As the gravitational pull lessens, the sun goes into this crazy phase where flares crop up and lash out at nearby planets. Eventually the star collapses and destroys everything in the immediate area, relatively speaking, of course.”

  The final picture was the shockwave approaching the spysat, then the slideshow from hell ended.

  “Have we had a vessel out there yet to take readings?”

  “Not yet, sir. We don’t know if the F’Rosian fleet is still there. But our leading scientists say that it would leave a massive asteroid field behind.”

  “Much like the one at Alpha Centauri,” Puar caught on.

  “Precisely,” Ryynaall agreed. “I think we found the weapon that forced the Founders to flee or die. It’s also possible that the wayward planet General Khail found belonged to the Alpha Centauri star system.”

  “Do we know where this fleet is now?”

  “No, sir. The spysat was destroyed before it could give us anything on its whereabouts. The last thing it registered was the fleet moving to a safe distance and holding position.”

  To watch their handiwork, no doubt, he thought. After a heavy sigh, Puar asked, “Do you have any good news?”

  “Yes, sir. But not much.”

  “Lay it on me!”

  “We analyzed the data from the spysat and found a fundamental weakness to this Doomsday Weapon. It utilizes a torpedo delivery system much like the Bright Star tech.”