(Imperial Winter Palace, Switzerland, Earth)
“Your Majesty, final
analysis says that the Emperor’s Flagship is going to be dead in the water
until we conduct a full refit and replacement of the engines. There simply
isn’t enough of the engines left to repair.”
“Fleet Base 1 is a
total loss, I’m afraid. The impact tore through the Admiralty ring and damaged
the main engineering sections. Fortunately, we were able to stop the station’s
spin and keep it from entering the atmosphere while we evacuated the survivors.
However, we lost all the highest-ranking admirals and their command staffs.
Secretary Michaels of the Imperial Intelligence Bureau was also killed along
with his top staff as they were meeting with the admiralty in preparation for
the next steps against the rebels.”
“Luna Base has been
wiped out. The military base, the Academy, and the ‘special’ research labs have
all been destroyed. Almost 12,000 loyal citizens, military and civilians, have
died due to the attacks. Thankfully, the weapons used were ‘conventional’, and
not nuclear, so the destruction did not reach the more heavily populated
areas.”
“However, it is my
duty to inform you that these attacks have severely weakened our ability to
bring the rebels to heel in the time frame you wished, with both our naval
command and intelligence apparatus decapitated. The destruction of the Academy
will slow the training of any new officers, making replacing combat losses
difficult, at best, until we can get people through the alternate campuses
elsewhere within the Empire. It may push back plans for the Confederation,
Majesty.”
Emperor Travis was livid. How DARE anyone attack his
flagship! And the setbacks to Lord Deus’s plans were simply intolerable! Still,
screaming at the Admiral reporting to him would do nothing. He was, after all,
a Vice-Admiral who had been on shore leave on Hawaii when things went mad. Now
he was the senior Admiral in system, and it fell to him to report to the
Emperor. No, Travis would control himself. Or rather, Deus did not allow Travis
to stray from the purpose of this audience.
“You say attacks and weapons, Admiral. I trust you have some
information on how we were attacked, and who is responsible?”
“Yes, Majesty. Initial
forensics say that all the damage was caused by high speed kinetic impacts. We
have the best data from Luna Base, since their sensors were able to record all
the attacks. Judging by the readings and the blast patterns, the EOD boys
believe that the weapon involved was a twenty-kilo mass moving at 0.001c.
Probably a railgun of some sort, sir, but we don’t have enough information to
confirm.”
“Do you have anything on the ship responsible for this, Admiral?”
The admiral looked pensive, and then shook his head. “No, my Emperor. We have gone over our
sensor logs, and have detected nothing. However, given that the targets were in
stationary orbits, given enough time and computer power, one could have calculated
the trajectories and launched the attack from as far away as Pluto, it would
just take longer for the projectiles to reach us.”
“As for the
responsible party, we only have two clues about that. First, the Confederation
Ambassador was attacked while his family and staff were en route to Mars for a
diplomatic visit. We got a partial distress call saying that their shuttle was
under attack before we lost contact. The shuttle was recovered, but the
passengers were missing, and their ‘guide’ was found dead. This happened at
approximately the same time as the attacks.”
“Second, we recovered
a message pod on a ballistic track heading towards Earth from Choson Ring,
claiming the attacks were done by a separatist group called ‘Free Mars’. The
message claims that they also took the Confederation Ambassador hostage, and
are willing to negotiate their release. Free Mars does have a history of
violent actions, but nothing on this scale or technical sophistication before.
We believe that they are being set up as a decoy to shield whoever was truly
responsible for the attacks, distracting us with this and stirring tensions
with the Confederation while we are focusing on the rebels.”
“So, it appears that the rebels were behind this attack?”
“That is the most likely
scenario, sir. We struck a serious blow to their forces at Askao VII, but their
suicide tactics forced us to regroup and take a more cautious approach. If they
can bring the Confederation in on a second front before we’ve neutralized them,
the Navy will be fighting on two fronts, possibly three if they drag the Ihm
into this as well.”
“Damn them! We will not let this stand, do you hear me,
Admiral? For now, send a message to the Confederation, telling them that it
appears their ambassador was killed by separatists funded by the rebels, but we
are proceeding to avenge them now. Then have troops on Mars round up and
execute all known members of Free Mars. They may not be responsible for the
attack, but I’ll not have vipers at my back while we concentrate on the true
enemy.”
“Finally, prepare reinforcements for Admiral Halman’s fleet.
We will crush this rebellion once and for all!”
(Main Control Center, Barnard Transit Station, Barnard’s
Star)
It was, after all, just a normal day in the life. That was what
Michael ‘Silver’ Brock thought, at any rate. Working the space equivalent of
air traffic control at what basically amounted to a truck stop and way station
orbiting a fairly uninteresting star whose only claim to fame was being
relatively near earth (just under 6 light years) meant that one got used to
routine. Routine was familiar. Routine was safe.
Routine was a lot better than his memories of the last big
war.
He’d been a fighter pilot back then, when the Empire had
tried to take on the Confederation, and the ingrates on the frontier decided
they had had enough and broke off to form the core of the Free Worlds Alliance,
or whatever they called themselves. Bastards cut and ran in the middle of a
war, while the Empire was too busy to crush their little rebellion.
That war had been a real nasty one. Space is the ultimate in
‘hazardous working environment’. And being a fighter pilot meant that he’d had
more than his fair share of close calls during the course of the war. One had
been way too close, and had left him trapped in the cockpit of his burning
Wrathstar until the rescue crews could get to him. Third degree burns over 80%
of his body. He damn near died, and if the hospital ship hadn’t been nearby, he
would have. The burns healed, in time, but the nerve damage left him grounded,
permanently.
Nothing he could do about that, unfortunately. The docs were
good, but they weren’t miracle workers. So he’d taken the retirement package,
and tried to find work. Turns out, there wasn’t much work out there for a stick
jockey who was on medical discharge and couldn’t fly any more. He’d ended up
taking a job at the Barnard Transit Station to keep his bills paid while he
looked for something better.
Twenty-five years later, he was still here.
With a sigh, Michael turned his attention to the screens. They
were by no means the largest transfer station out there, but there was always
someone passing through. After all, this was one of the better places to stop
and rest for light years around. In fact, there were several short haul
freighters that used the station as a transfer point, running back and forth
between their home system bringing people and cargo, and letting other short
haulers take them on from there.
Made better business sense, he guessed, to haul all the people
and cargo heading in several different directions to one spot, and then they could
break up and join other people and cargo heading to their desired destination.
Sure, it was quicker to go straight from A to B, but if you had freighters that
were heading from A to C, and then from C to B, you could get there for a lot
cheaper than chartering a freighter for a direct run. Might add an extra week
or more to your travel, but if you weren’t in a hurry, you’d be paying less
than half what the direct shippers would charge you. The short haul freighters
always needed to keep their holds full, while the direct shippers charged a
premium for the direct route, which covered for the fact that their holds weren’t
always full to the brim.
Right now, there were thirteen ships in port, and six more
that were either in system on approach, or were heading out on the next leg of their
journey. While hyperdrives could be used inside the system, the closer you were
to a gravity well, the larger the strain to enter or exit hyperspace. Plus, dropping
out of hyperspace too close made people get itchy trigger fingers. Standard
operating procedure for civilian traffic was to take it about 50 million
kilometers from the nearest planetary body and at least 1 AU from the nearest
stellar body. Sure, you spent longer in ‘realspace’, but the civilian companies
mainly cared about keeping maintenance costs on the expensive hyperdrive
engines down.
Michael knew there was a practical side to it, as well. The
closer you were to a planet or station, the more traffic there was. So keeping
FTL objects from zipping through traffic lanes was just common sense. Just like
you didn’t want to see a big trailer truck going full speed on the wrong side
of the road when you were dirtside. Nothing good came from shit like that,
unless you were a movie director. That’s why most stations had dedicated ‘arrival’
and ‘departure’ areas, and that’s another reason why stations like the Transit
Station existed. They kept the traffic ‘regular’ instead of getting blocked up
by people going every which way.
There were nineteen ships in the system. The scanners were
very clear about that. And then suddenly there fifteen, as four ships abruptly
dropped off his sensors. Two minutes later, just as the light caught up to the
sensor readings, he saw the visuals as the four ships closest to escape
disappeared in fireballs. The next moment, the last two ships were attacked by…
something. He couldn’t see the ships on his scanners, and the only reason the
imagers showed anything is because they were using beam weapons now.
The station rocked, and alarms began sounding. Out of
nowhere, it seemed, fighters had descended upon the station. Black as sin, save
for the ‘glass’ of the cockpit facing forward, and bristling with weapons, they
couldn’t be anything else, but they resembled no fighter he had ever seen before,
with their x-shaped wings. The fighters unleashed hell on his station, taking
out point defense and the long-range communication array.
That’s when he saw another ship. A light freighter, but mean
looking, like it was designed for smuggling or blockade running. It was blacker
than black as well, and Michael didn’t doubt that he was only seeing this ship
because he was supposed to. Now that the station’s point defense was down, he
saw shuttles approaching as well. Those were assault ships! What in the hell
was going on here?
As if the universe was listening to his thoughts, the viewscreens
all changed to reveal a man dressed in a ship suit with a black coat over it. Somehow
these people had broken into the station systems!
“To all those on Barnard Transit Station. This is Admiral
Nelson of the True Britains Fleet. You are ordered to surrender your station
and your ships to support the restoration of the British Empire to her rightful
place in the universe. Failure to comply will result in the termination of life
support in the offending areas and the elimination of all sentients found there.
Obey, and live. Resist, and die. You have ten minutes to comply.”
(Assault shuttle, en route to Barnard Transit Station,
Barnard’s Star)
‘Admiral Nelson’ signed off, and looked to the three women
accompanying him on this assault. “So, how do you think it went.”
The three looked at eachother, and then the one in the middle
sighed, and said, “Really, Master? Admiral Nelson?”
“Well, would you rather I say ‘Captain Mollen, that guy the
emperor really wants dead’?”
“No, no. Just, you had to go with Nelson?”
“Well, the idiot emperor will certainly be wondering what is
going on with all these terrorist groups popping out of the woodwork. It’ll do
him good to sweat a bit, if his AI overlord doesn’t see through it.”
Be sure to read my published works!
Frozen Soul series (Sci-Fi Supervillain story):
Frozen Soul https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071R125QT
Tales of the Void Traveler https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZ52G37
Rules-Free VRMMO Life (Dark Fantasy LitRPG):
Volume 1 - Tutorial https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071VPRNDB
Omnibus 1 - Volumes 1-4 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0774T354X
Into the Black (Sci-Fi LitRPG):
Book I - Game Start https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071LT5WGL
Omnibus I - Books 1-4 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077X2KR7Y
City of Champions Online (Superhero LitRPG):
Issue I - Origin Stories https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075SHXQS1
The Kalipshae Affair (A First Contact Short Story): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0739V6R6T
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