Ascension

by Nicholas Woode-Smith

  James was relieved to finally enter the crew quarters, where his guards and attendants allowed him to proceed alone. The quarters were relatively empty, as most of the troops were receiving their orders in staging areas around the ship. As the Defiant, he had his own room. While he did not like the special treatment, he did appreciate it. James liked to brood alone.

  But James was not alone when he arrived at his quarters.

  ‘Boy-mancer.’ Krag-Zot nodded in greeting. His mask was shut. Next to him was Re’lien.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ James asked, unable to suppress his surprise.

  ‘Serving the free races,’ she replied. ‘The Imperials will have many warpmancers. You can’t counter them all by yourself.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Ssshhh. As your friend and as a volunteer member of the Defiant, I have decided to accompany you on this unwinnable war of liberation. Would you take away that right from me?’

  James could not respond.

  ‘The edal is right, boy-mancer. And that is why I will sully my hands with Imperial blood once again. Glorious fleet and ground warfare will not be sufficient to win Sekai. Warpmancy will. And while you are too valuable to risk being lost in the chaos of battle, for us to win you will need to be deployed.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way,’ James replied, and then looked at Re’lien and frowned. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Sure about fighting?’ Re’lien asked. And then nodded, with a hint of reluctance. ‘It is the right thing to do. And besides, I promised I’d let you rely on me if needs be. Can’t do that when you are thousands of light years away.’

  James didn’t try to argue. Re’lien was agreeable, but wilful. And a part of James was happy she was here. The journey to Sekai was to be long. Pleasant company would not be unwelcome.

  James nodded, in concession and in respect. His compatriots, an edal and an areq, nodded back. The whir of the pre-warp engines sped up and the grind of an old ship echoed throughout the halls. It screeched as the rust of ages peeled off long forgotten hinges, and then became silent. An air of weightlessness kicked in, and then stopped, as the onboard gravity field activated. Through a viewing screen, James watched as Nova Zarxa stretched out before him, white and listless. Its silver city shrank into the void and so too did the planet. Orbiting satellites and shipyards passed by and then disappeared too. The darkness took over, until all that could be seen were the distant lights of close-by planets, warp-storms and stars.

  The fleet stopped.

  ‘This is to be a long, anxiety-ridden journey, boy-mancer. There is nothing as tense as awaiting one’s possible doom. This is your chance to allay their fears.’

  James clenched his fists and steeled himself. In the corner of his cabin was an intercom. As the commander of the fleet, it could be patched into every single ship.

  The ship was silent. Everyone was awaiting his voice.

  He spoke.

  ‘We fly to a distant world to fight a war. Our hearts are afraid. We would be fools not to be afraid. Before us is an enemy we have faced before. An enemy that has scarred us. They are entrenched and in unknown numbers. We don’t know what we are getting into – but what we do know is that we have defeated them before. While we have fear in our hearts, we know that they must also fear us. If they do not, then they are more foolish than we – and that will make our jobs even easier! The future may be uncertain, but there are two things I’m sure of: we will bleed them until our victory, or they will crack under the first blow.

  ‘The people of Sekai are brave, like us. And when we needed help, they answered. The least we can do is fly out to break their chains. But regardless of what comes of this battle – know that you are to become greater than you ever were before. You fly out a soldier. You will return a hero.

  ‘Prepare for warp-jump. For the Defiant, for freedom, for Sekai!’

  “Do not weep for your children. They died for the glory of the Black Fleet. For the glory of our people. They were purged of the long-death, and in the fires of war, they have found their place in Purity.” – Ukuktruk, Squogg Black Fleet Commander and Writer.

  Chapter 15.

  Break the Chains

  Fire erupted against the Defiant fleet as soon as it exited warp-space. The Imperials did not give them anytime to manoeuvre, or to find their bearings. Instantaneously, white and silver ships, fired lasers and super-powered warp-energy blasts towards the new arrivals. Three mercenary destroyers and corvettes burst like fruit, spilling flaming seeds that were quickly extinguished by the vacuum of space.

  From the war-room of the Emperor’s Fury, James’ vision shifted from the live holo-display, as it illustrated his fleet being pounded upon by a motley of Imperial vessels, and the window, where he saw ships carrying acquaintances and friends scorched and torn to shreds.

  James was not a fleet commander. He left the directing of the ships to those more suited to it. Ship captains ran their own flotillas, with a general strategy. James didn’t like it. He could only watch, impotently, as his fleet fell.

  Destroyers and corvettes rushed in to the breach, dancing around the superior Imperial ships to attain the best firing arc while preventing the Imperials from having the same. It was a dog-fight in the original sense of the word. Destroyers dived in, fired torpedoes and flak-cannons, retreated, fired their missiles and anti-shield lasers, circled and did it all again. Imperial ships responded by treating the Defiant destroyers like flies, swatting at them with energy pulses, lasers and hordes of suicidal warp-powered drones.

  Three Imperial frigates and two destroyers were nearest to the Defiant. Uniform, unlike the myriad of designs in James’ fleet. Super-scopes and sensors detected even greater numbers in the distance. This force must’ve been patrolling just out of orbit of Sekai. The pilot of the beacon ship, that set the warp-path for the entire fleet, had taken them just a far-cry from Sekai. It was a bright green blob in the distance, reflecting its sun. Faint specks mottled its pristine exterior. They were growing and as they approached, James saw new ships appear on the holo-display.

  The mercenary destroyers lost another ship but were soon joined by a motley group of Ganru and Defiant ships. A Ganru corvette strafed across the broadside of an Imperial frigate, opening up with an intense mining laser that had been weaponised to chew through enemy shields. The hexagonal shielding on the Imperial ship flickered and sputtered, creating an opening. Just above the frigate, a mercenary destroyer let loose a volley of rockets. Explosions wracked the centre of the ship, and then more. A chain reaction set off, eventually leaving the ship a blackened hull.

  Radio chatter infused the room with an energetic and terrifying cacophony. Orders by officers, damage reports, and the incessant pattern of fire, strafe, evade, reload, fire… Cries of death sometimes interrupted the pattern. Lights on the holo-screens, indicating the status of each ship, turned red. And as another Imperial frigate fell, the Ganru corvette split in two as a laser cut it like bread. On the holo-display, a new armada arrived. James took a quick count. Ten frigates, two cruisers and so many destroyers. More and more. And they were converging on the dog-fight between the Defiant vanguard and Imperial patrollers.

  The mercenaries would want to be retreating round about now. No credits were worth this quagmire. But they were pinned. So, it was stare death in the face, or get shot in the back. To their credit, the mercs chose to stare it down.

  James was not an admiral. He knew little about fleet warfare. But he did understand war. And he understood that being flanked was seldom good. It was evident that the Defiant fleet was outgunned. But that didn’t have to mean defeat. James frowned. It would just make their job a lot harder. Could James let that happen? How could he stop it? He wasn’t an admiral.

  But he was a leader.

  James pinged the Grag-Tec fleet and spoke in the calm and battle-hardened tone of a seasoned commander.

  ‘Quok, give the main fleet a wide berth. Wait for them to flank our forces and t
hen attack them in the rear,’ James ordered over comms. ‘Transports, approach with caution. Frontal guard, move to engage new combatants. Make way for the transports to board the wounded frigates.’

  No one argued. The holo-screen awoke with activity as his fleet re-manoeuvred. James did not wince, but he did feel a distant concern. The boarding action would be brutal. With the order, he had committed many to die. But if he didn’t make the order, many more would die.

  James turned to his ship’s command.

  ‘Pilot, get this ship in range so we can fire our main guns. Soften the approaching fleet. Break their nose!’

  The Emperor’s Fury heaved into motion. Pot-shots from Imperial vessels hit its hull, but not even enough to warrant the activation of shields.

  ‘Gunner, fire-at-will!’

  A boom sounded from the onboard rail-gun before its payload entered the vacuum of space and soundlessly travelled to the approaching enemy armada. James imagined the plink. And then the Imperial cruiser stopped. Its comrades passed it.

  ‘Death per a shot! Keep them coming gunner,’ James shouted, the energy that only war could bring filling him.

  They fired again and another Imperial ship fell. But the Defiant forces were taking losses. The armada had arrived and was opening with a barrage on the fleet. Its broadside lit up with alien weaponry, piercing the hulls of many Defiant ships. And through this, it continued moving towards the Emperor’s Fury. More ordnance hit the ship. The darkness was ablaze with the fires of heaven. The sounds of hell. The suction of the void as hulls broke, men screamed, and officers shouted for more flak to be thrown at the enemy. Sirens rang out. Holes were patched.

  The transports finally hit the enemy frigates. With the cover of the destroyers, two transports broke off and charged at the frigates, ramming them. Metal lurched and crushed, breaking through the glowing segmented shielding of the Imperial vessels and denting their previously pristine hulls. The transports then latched on with mag-handles and gigantic chains. James did not envy the crewmen of either ship as the chains were drawn in and the ships crunched together in a murderous embrace. Shields flickered and died on both ships. In seconds, infantry would be pouring into the Imperial frigates, engaging in the brutality of ship to ship combat. Defiant would be used to it. The confines of Nova Zarxa were not unlike a ship. They had been bloodied many times over in the shining halls of a metal box. But still, James could not shake his guilt.

  The Imperial frigates were now out of commission, leaving the combat vessels to engage the far greater armada headed right for them. Mercenary destroyers made a wide-circle around the now boarded Imperial ships, to flank the Imperial armada. But as they did, the sensors picked up another flotilla moving towards them.

  ‘Vanguard-Alpha, move to screen the Emperor’s Fury. Vanguard-Bravo, hold back and prepare to flank as they approach.’

  The mercenary destroyers in Vanguard-Bravo held off and tightened their formation around the troop transports. The non-engaged ships were pulling back to join the Emperor’s Fury’s formation.

  James shifted his attention to the Grag-Tec flotilla away from the main formation. Between them and the main fleet was the increasingly growing Imperial armada. Multiple enemy ships had clear sights on the Emperor’s Fury and were opening fire, sending shockwaves through the battleship.

  ‘Quok, engage!’

  ‘Roger!’

  The Grag-Tec fleet, small as it was, was the most advanced of the ships fielded in the Defiant fleet. Their smart-shielding system easily blocked lethal projectiles and ignored dummy attacks meant to deplete their shielding. As James watched the holo-display, he realised that Grag-Tec’s virtues weren’t only defensive. The Grag-Tec vessels opened up with a barrage of energy weapons, eliminating the shields of swathes of Imperial vessels, following up with a tirade of shells and bouquets of missiles. Without shields, the Imperial ships splintered, popped and were consumed by their own fire.

  But many survived and were rushing towards the Emperor’s Fury. Salvoes of projectiles and missiles greeted them. Not enough fell. More friendly corvettes and destroyers fell. The Ganru, bloodied, were making evasive manoeuvres that risked breaking the formation. James did not want to begin to imagine the casualty count, and how it was only just beginning to rise in earnest.

  The Imperial flotilla was breaking through, easily strafing past Defiant vessels and taking them down with full broadside volleys. James winced as another destroyer fell. The Defiant frigate’s hull was also blackening under repeated energy barrages.

  The combat vessels couldn’t handle the onslaught, and the Imperial fleet was breaking through, with reinforcements approaching.

  ‘Transports, rush and board. Fire a deployment volley into their cruiser,’ James suddenly ordered.

  ‘That’s madness, sir!’ Frank responded over the comms.

  ‘Get your men prepped for boarding. If you miss, then we’ll pick them up. If they hit, then glory will be theirs.’

  Frank did not argue further. James somewhat wished he had. Firing breaching pods at this range, especially pods designed for orbital deployment, was highly unconventional. James just hoped it wasn’t fatal.

  The transports rushed in to intercept the fast approaching attackers. In puffs of expelled carbon, armoured pods shot out towards the enemy. Some missed. Their limited jet capabilities allowed them to re-direct their path towards Sekai. It was better to crash on the planet than starve in the darkness of the void. Others were shot before making impact. Laser-fire burst their barely shielded pods like eggs, spilling man-shaped yolk. Those that survived hit the Imperial ships like bullets on an already dead carcass. Shrapnel burst out like blood splatter.

  James suddenly felt an extreme itch. A pounding in his chest. The radio chatter, screams and orders that he had grown accustomed to now banged in his head.

  I should be the one boarding. Not just because he felt that was his duty, but also to allay this sick in his gut. There was nothing like combat to make one forget everything else. But instead, James continued his work as commander.

  ‘Quok, circle the enemy fleet and give their rear a broadside.’

  Grag-Tec’s fleet hastily repositioned right behind the melee-engaged Imperial flotilla, and then released a salvo of missiles. Whatever was not engaged in boarding combat, was annihilated in a single volley. Electric flashes and brief fireballs lit up the viewing-screen.

  The way was clear to Sekai, but surviving Imperials fought on the other flanks.

  ‘Transports, move in to support the boarders. Orbital-deployers, make a break for the planet. Quok, make sure they get there. Pilot, reposition this ship to provide fire support. I want all guns trained on the enemy. We break them here!’

  ‘Ships secured!’ shouted a commander over the comms. The Imperial frigates from before had finished their fight. A cheer erupted from the Emperor’s Fury and through the comms of the entire fleet. But they were still taking losses. James eyed the holo-display. The mercenary destroyers were outnumbered.

  ‘Move to support Vanguard-Bravo.’

  Through the viewing screens, James could now clearly see his fleet’s ships up close. They were scarred. Scorch marks and hastily plugged holes marred their exteriors. But the Defiant banners were still pristine on their bulkheads.

  James was not superstitious, but it was a sign he would gladly accept.

  ‘The orbital-deployment is about to break atmo. Do you want them to have all the glory?’ James yelled, to be answered by an inaudible war cry.

  The Emperor’s Fury opened up all its guns and decimated the one Imperial flotilla in a dazzling aurora of laser fire, shield bursts and explosions. Freed of their enemies, the mercenary fleet repositioned to aid the other fighters, buzzing around the white and silver vessels like carrion on a corpse. One by one, the final remaining Imperial vessels fell to the onslaught and then…it was over.

  Not over, James reminded himself. It had only just begun.

  ‘Recover our troops and bring
them about. We’re landing.’

  

  Viper did not believe that the Defiant was a god. Neither did he see the Defiant State as anything special. It was a gang. An oversized gang with a planet rather than some measly turf or a town to call its own. Viper joined up because he needed creds, and because fighting was all he knew how to do. Gre’sse would have liked to think that he had pressured Viper into joining, but Viper wasn’t that easily swayed. He joined up cause it was the most prudent thing to do…

  And now he was sitting in a crater, laser-fire filling the air over his head, with a smoking drop-pod behind him.

  No creds are worth this, he told himself. But peaked out to fire all the same.

  They had landed in a village near a lake. Imperial forces had soon rushed to meet them, opening fire. They were pinned. Viper’s unit, the one he had trained himself and used to train others, all sitting in a hole, surrounded by silver-skites.

  Viper knew the Defiant was crazy when he gave the order to deploy pods into other ships. They were only lucky that the gravitational pull of Sekai had saved them from the horrors of starving in space. But upon impacting with the now scorched fields of Sekai, they were met with a different type of horror. Screams. Gunfire. The zip-zap of alien weapons and the guttural but childlike cries of men losing limbs and life.

  Viper felt an intense bitterness towards the Defiant then. One he had felt against many employers in the past. The Defiant was a typical commander. An armchair general who let the peasants charge, while sipping wine and giving orders he couldn’t begin to truly understand. Wars weren’t really fought in the war-rooms of battleships, but on the ground, among the sweating men and women of the fighting corps. In the ditches, surrounded by foes. Viper understood war, and he couldn’t see how they were getting out of this.

  And then the sky boomed. No rain followed the thunder, except the rain of metal. Tens of drop-pods rained from above. More, a hundred. Ships followed in their wake, bearing battle-scars and laying down fire on the enemy positions. Pods dropped all around Viper’s position, smashing Imperial units into pink mist. Black and blue infantry poured out of the pods and engaged the Imperial troops in brutal close quarters combat. Point-blank shots from pulse rifles, blades to throats, stock to skull. Punching, kicking, stabbing, crushing. Blood spraying from either side.