The Fallen

by Paul B Spence

"Everyone in position and online?" he asked over the com net.

  There was a general chorus of yes's and one discordant reply. "I can't get this damn turret to boot up, Lieutenant," said one of his crew.

  "Then get yourself to a different one, you damned fool!" Riksen replied furiously. The tension was getting to him. He knew in his bones that the Federation Fleet wouldn't let a prize like the Arcadia slip away. They'd try to come alongside and board. He was planning to give them a nasty surprise when they tried it.

  Ffoulkes screamed and writhed in his acceleration couch as the grey something consumed his legs. It was agony such as he'd never experienced before, and even his neural shunts couldn't shut out the pain.

  "Call off the attack," the armored man said again.

  "Go fuck yourself!" Ffoulkes screamed.

  "I can make the pain go away," the voice said soothingly. "Just call off the other ships."

  "No!" Ffoulkes panted. His face was ashen and sweaty in his helmet. "I can't! I won't!" He screamed again as Drake slashed the blade through his chest.

  The rest of the bridge crew were dead, the instruments smashed. Drake knew that the ship could be controlled from other places, but he didn't know enough about such things to know where to look.

  He shook his head, oddly saddened by the carnage. The only place left for him to go was Engineering. If he damaged the engines, the blast would surely destroy the ship.

  Admiral Mandor Shadovsky turned his head unwisely and vomited in his helmet. The suit's automatic controls took over and flushed it away, but his head still pounded furiously.

  Smoke filled the bridge, and there was no illumination but the dim red emergency lights and the occasional actinic spark of something shorting out. Mandor could hear other people moaning around the bridge, and someone was sobbing.

  "Captain?" he called out. He sent a command via datalink, and his acceleration harness released him. "Torenth?"

  Mandor stumbled through the gloom and shifting gravity to the captain's couch. Torenth lay sprawled in his harness; his faceplate was cracked and smeared with blood. Mandor carefully removed Torenth's helmet and shook him gently.

  "Wha–?" Torenth muttered incoherently. Then he shoved himself upright in his couch. "Admiral?" he asked.

  "Thought we'd lost you, Raoko," Mandor said quietly. "I need you awake and in command."

  "Right," Torenth replied. He pressed one hand against the ragged cut on his head to slow the bleeding. "Bridge crew, sound off!" Most of the bridge crew were only lightly injured, but two of them had more severe wounds, and three were dead. Torenth ordered two of the marine sentries to carry the badly wounded crewmembers to the medical bay. Sections called out damage reports as the bridge systems were slowly rebooted.

  A man with a light pushed his way onto the bridge.

  "Who are you?" asked Torenth. "The one with the light," he clarified.

  "Ensign Gregory Miller, damage control team one-seventeen, Captain."

  "What happened?"

  "Port side fusion reactors two and three lost containment, sir. The hull was damaged, and the reactors blasted this whole section of the ship before they could be ejected. Twenty percent of the computers were lost. The MI is non-responsive; I think her core was damaged. The ship is tumbling, sir."

  "I can tell that, Ensign. You can't regain control from Engineering?"

  "Not much left down there, Captain. They took a direct hit from a kinetic penetrator."

  "Can you get us full power?"

  "My team is working on it, sir."

  "What about weapons?" asked Mandor.

  "Lieutenant Riksen has teams manning the remaining defensive guns directly, Admiral. Teams are still trying to get forward to get the primaries up. The rear primaries are just gone."

  "That's a man with his head on straight," Mandor said approvingly.

  This is insane! Riksen thought. I'm insane!

  Riksen could see a Federation battle cruiser closing on their position. He'd ordered the guns placed in standby mode until the enemy was too close to evade. His team would only have one shot at the enemy ship. They needed to disable it before it could respond and vaporize them all.

  The Federation ship matched velocities and came to rest relative the Arcadia just twenty kilometers away, in preparation for launching assault shuttles.

  "Now!" Riksen shouted. His cannon came online, and with his first shot, he knew that they had a chance.

  Graser cannon were medium-range weapons with a maximum effective range of about fifty thousand kilometers. He targeted the opened launch bays, and the invisible beam from his cannon punched a very visible, ruddily glowing hole all the way through the enemy ship. Fire from the rest of his team shattered hull-metal and blasted apart bulkheads. Atmosphere vented into space, incandescent where his graser beam passed through it. The ship tumbled away and then exploded, temporarily overloading his sensors.

  Riksen tried not to think about the thousands of people he'd just killed.

  He wondered how many times he was going to have to do that, and when the enemy was going to catch on to what was happening.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  "Damn it, Tebrey, we're going as fast as we can," Captain Hutchinson said irritably. "We're redlining the drive as it is. We're on the edge of the fourth hyperspace layer. Our drive spines are going to need a complete refit after this."

  "I know that, Captain, and I don't want to seem ungrateful, but we're talking about the fate of the Federation, and maybe the entire human race, here."

  "Don't you think I know that, Commander?" Hutchinson rubbed his temples. "I know you're worried about your wife. Why don't you get that witch with you to just take you there?"

  Tebrey's lips quirked in amusement at hearing Lyra referred to as a witch. "She has some constraints that I don't understand. I'm sorry, Captain. I don't mean to be such a pain in the ass. I know you're doing everything you can. You've already gone above and beyond. I'm just worried that we're going to be too late to stop the battle."

  "I doubt we'd make much difference anyway, Tebrey. Commodore Ffoulkes was rumored to be in command of the taskforce. He isn't going to listen to reason."

  "Believe me, I've been worried about that as well. How long have we got?"

  "The best estimate my navigator can give me is three hours, plus or minus up to six. You know how hyperspace travel is. Exact timing is difficult."

  "Please let me know when we get close."

  "I will, Lt. Commander."

  "No luck?" Lyra asked when Tebrey came back into the small crew mess.

  Tebrey shook his head. "I wish I understood why you can't just take me there," he said sullenly.

  Lyra sighed. "I told you that. It would attract the wrong kind of attention. The enemy is probably focused on the battle as it is. I can feel the psionic shockwaves from the people dying even out here, but going there ourselves, across this distance, would create even bigger ripples and attract even more of them. I don't think either of us wants that."

  "No," Tebrey said quietly. "Neither of us does. What about when we get there?"

  "We'll see."

  "That's it? What the hell are you here for, if not to help? Why did you come?"

  "I said that we'd see. I mean that. I can't tell you what I'm going to do. We don't even know if we'll arrive in time to join the battle."

  "We will," Tebrey said. His eyes were focused on something only he could see. "We'll get there, but things have been going very poorly for everyone."

  "I can only imagine," said Lyra. She wondered if he was seeing a vision of the battle to come or what was happening now. In either case, it was an interesting development.

  Ana surged up off the examination table as she regained consciousness.

  "Whoa, take it easy," Dr. Cara Nalatu said as she gently pushed the small woman back down. "You took a hard blow to the head. We've got you patched up, but we want to monitor you for a while anyway."

  Normally, with so many other wounded, Dr. N
alatu would have delegated the care of the woman to someone else, but the Special Operations officer who'd carried her in had insisted. Lt. Commander Harris said she was considered VIP by Internal Security. That meant that she was considered extremely important to the Sentient Concord, important enough to allow others to die just to keep her alive, if necessary. The doctor didn't know why, but she wasn't the type to question such orders, especially with the director of Internal Security aboard the ship.

  "Why? I feel fine," said Ana. Actually, she felt like she'd been kicked in the head repeatedly, but she wasn't going to say that. She wanted out of that place. The fear and pain of the wounded around her were clawing at her like kasirs.

  "Take it easy, Ana," Tonya soothed. "You took a hit on your head. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

  "I'll only be a few more minutes," said the doctor. "We want to make sure that the baby is going to be okay. It can be touch and go with trauma cases, especially in the second trimester."

  "Excuse me?" Ana forgot all about the emotions she felt around her.

  "Yes?"

  "I c-c-can't be pregnant," Ana stammered.

  Dr. Nalatu shrugged. "Take a look," she said. She activated an air screen next to the table so Ana could see the sensor readings of the small life coiled inside her.

  "But I'm not human!"

  "I'm sure that even Thyrna-Shae have babies," Dr. Nalatu said wryly.

  Ana wasn't Thyrna-Shae, but she didn't argue the point. "But my husband is human!"

  Dr. Nalatu frowned and looked at the displays again. "Are you sure that the baby is his?"

  Ana came up off the table again. "Of course I'm sure! I haven't been with anyone but him!"

  "Calm down. I didn't mean to offend you. I guess you just got lucky," said Dr. Nalatu.

  Ana settled back, awestruck at the idea that she was going to be a mother. She smiled shyly up at the tall dark doctor. "Can you tell me what it is?"

  "A little girl," Dr. Nalatu replied. "She seems healthy. She has a good strong heartbeat. You really didn't know you're pregnant? You weren't on birth control?"

  Ana shook her head. "It never occurred to me. We'd been told we couldn't have children. He said he'd been sterilized by the military."

  "Your husband is on this ship?"

  "No," Ana said sadly. "I don't know where he is. He was in the Federation."

  "Oh," Dr. Nalatu looked away, embarrassed. "You seem to be okay. You can rest here for a while; strap in."

  "It will be okay, Ana," said Tonya. "Ghost and I are here, and we aren't going to let anything happen to you."

  "Thank you."

  "That's the last of them, Captain," said Commander Dorian as he returned to the bridge.

  "Hell of a way to run a navy," Captain Jin Rai said distractedly. He was studying his air screens.

  "What's up, sir?"

  "Take a look at this," said Jin Rai. He transferred the data from his screen to Dorian's. "What do you make of that?"

  "It looks like the majority of the Fleet has moved into close range with the Concord Fleet. This ship out in front is a Concord ship. Looks like a battle cruiser."

  "I think it is the Arcadia," Jin Rai said quietly.

  "They saved our asses at Prism," Dorian replied.

  The captain nodded. "I think we should return the favor."

  Dorian met his captain's eyes. What the man was suggesting was far beyond the simple disobeying of an order. He was suggesting they join the Concord against the other Federation ships. Dorian nodded slowly. "I have to agree, sir."

  "Helm, bring us up to full power. We're going to assist the Arcadia."

  "Sir!" Everyone on the bridge was loyal to the captain and the ship, especially after the shock of the mutiny. They also remembered the horror they had felt as they watched their fellow Federation ships firing on Prism. They remembered the battle that had ensued, and to whom they owed their lives. Someone muttered that it was about time.

  "Bringing us to full power in six seconds." The pilot began counting down.

  "Weapons systems are online, Captain."

  "Let's get in there," the captain said. "Before it is too late."

  "Order the fighter wings to concentrate fire on that cruiser," Admiral Macklin said tensely. One of the enemy ships had pushed forward through the defensive fire of the remaining Concord ships and was targeting the civilian transports lifting from the surface.

  "Admiral, the Arcadia is still fighting," said Captain Viknorov, awe in her voice. The battle cruiser had been on its own for almost an hour and still hadn't fallen to the enemy. The Federation ships could probably have destroyed it, but they wanted to capture it so they could study the technology.

  "There is nothing we can do for them, Captain. Concentrate on the task at hand."

  "Yes, Admiral."

  The Concord Fleet was losing. They couldn't match the firepower of the combined Federation Fleet. When the Agamemnon had faltered, he'd had hope, but the ship had quickly rejoined the battle, and if anything, the enemy had been more effective. The Federation Fleet had five times the number of fighter craft as the Concord. Swarms of the small craft were darting in and smashing the defenses of his ships. The Concord Fleet was losing a ship every couple of minutes.

  Admiral Macklin was barely holding the Fleet together, trying to give the few civilian transports from the surface a chance to escape. He had seen the grim transmissions from the planet. More than twenty missiles had struck the surface, over a hundred warheads. Many of the major cities were devastated. The portion of the population that could not be evacuated was being routed to the vast planetary defense bunkers, which had been built during the Nurgg War, when invasion had seemed inevitable. Now they were coming in handy again.

  On the screens, the battle cruiser he'd ordered the fighters to attack blew up. No one on the bridge cheered as they had earlier in the battle. They were too tired, and they'd all seen the explosion destroy most of their remaining fighters. It had been worth it from a tactical standpoint, but the cost in lives was heavy.

  "That's the last of the civilian ships, Admiral."

  "Order the remaining frigates to fall back," he said wearily. "They know where to regroup."

  "Sir."

  Less than half of the original Concord ships remained, and all of them were badly damaged. The battle had been the first time modern warships had faced other ships of a similar type. Most of the fighting the human race had done in the last two hundred years had been against the technologically backward Homndruu and the superior Nurgg. In both cases, the fighting had been much different.

  Admiral Macklin was confident that the Concord would be able to recover from their losses that day. It was cold comfort to him that the Federation probably wouldn't be able to do the same. The Federation had lost many ships against the Nurgg, and they had just lost over a hundred more against the Concord. He doubted they would be able to rebuild, especially with the reports of civil strife in the Federation. He'd even heard that a few systems had openly declared their secession.

  Aliens are going to pick all our bones, he thought disgustedly. Humanity will to be lucky to survive this war. "Order a general advance of the capital ships, Captain. We're not going to let them take Dawn while we can still fight."

  The crew fled before Drake. He wished there was some way to warn them. He would have liked to have given them time to evacuate the ship, but he didn't know how. It didn't matter, with all the death he felt around him, but it would have made him feel better about what he was going to do to them.

  The engineering section was mostly empty.

  A tall woman with dark eyes was waiting for him.

  "You aren't one of us," she said.

  There was something about her that disturbed him. She felt wrong.

  "No, I'm not," Drake replied. "You should leave, if you wish to live."

  "And yet I know why you are here." She laughed unpleasantly. "You're wasting your time, you know. Humanity is going to be destroyed in this Re
alm. They are easy prey for us."

  "I will not allow that," he said.

  "Ah, yes. You have a son here, don't you? He is close to falling, you know. We'll have him in the end."

  Drake laughed at her then. "He'll never fall. None of my line ever has."

  She narrowed her now ruddily glowing eyes. Her form was becoming more demonic by the moment – not that it affected Drake much. He'd been worse than anything she could even imagine.

  She suddenly lashed at him with dark fire, but he'd been prepared and darted forward under the blast to slice at her. She screamed as the forces along the edge of the blade bound her to the form she had energized and began eating at it. She dissolved slowly from the wound. She was strong to be able to resist it, but not strong enough to escape the forces Drake had unleashed. Few were.

  He walked past her to drive his blade into the control conduit for the fusion engines. Once the containment failed on the engines, the ship would explode.

  "It isn't over!" she screamed at him.

  "It is for you."

  "But what of your friends?" she asked, laughing again.

  "What do you mean?"

  An image of war was thrust at his mind. He recognized the world despite the carnage.

  "You're lying," he shouted, but she wasn't listening. She wasn't dead, but she was beyond thought.

  He couldn't allow it to be true. If it was, he had to leave. The Concord would have to make do without him. His son would be all right for the time he was gone.

  He left the ship only moments before it exploded.

  The Arcadia shuddered again as her hull was raked by the primary lasers of the Federation destroyer. This Federation ship wasn't going to be lured in like the last one. The enemy had given up trying to capture the Arcadia after four dismal failures. The Arcadia was too battered to resist any longer. Six hours of fighting had emptied her missile tubes, and most of her guns were inoperable.