The Rising Darkness (Space Empires Book 1)

by Selby, Caleb

  Tarkin stood at the front of the Iovara’s bridge and gazed out the main viewing screen with awe. Although having traveled through dozens of warp-points during his civilian career, Tarkin had never before had access to the awesome viewing screens afforded by a fleet battleship with which to truly appreciate a warp-point’s beauty. It was mesmerizing.

  “Approaching gravitational well of the Guardian warp-point!” Kesler called out, startling Tarkin.

  “All engine operations and coolant temperatures check!” the technical advisor voiced from the upper command level.

  “Tactical and defensive systems check completed. Locked, loaded and good to kill things!” Jonas shouted out.

  “Emergency power injectors and life support systems all check!” reported an engineer after appearing from underneath his console where he was making last minute adjustments.

  “G-lines and stabilizers good to go,” another officer called out.

  “All core operational systems check. We’re ready to go,” the propulsions consultant said after looking at his screen.

  Kesler nodded and then turned to face Fedrin who sat patiently in the command chair. “All ships report checks on all critical systems. The only outstanding issues are the Hornell engines which are beginning to heat.”

  “What does Kendrick have to say about it?” Fedrin asked critically.

  Kesler shrugged. “He is insisting that she’ll hold together for the jump and does not want the fleet to slow down. He reiterated that point several times to me.”

  Fedrin nodded thoughtfully. “All ahead full Lieutenant.”

  “Aye, Sir!”

  “Once we enter Guardian I want the Bolter to take up guard of the Hornell’s port side and have the Defiant elevate her flight path directly above the Revenge. I also want the Arbitrator and three Hornell fighter squadrons to take up the right guard of the fleet. All shields are to be up and weapon ports open. I’m not taking any chances!”

  “Aye, Sir,” Kesler replied, rapidly typing out the orders as fast as Fedrin gave them.

  “Gravitational pull of the warp-point will approach point of no return in just under two minutes at current speed,” Tarkin spoke up.

  The Iovara’s hull began to shake as the pull on the ship increased from the deep blue hole in space. A stack of memory cards carelessly placed on the engineering computer counsel toppled over. Nobody cared.

  Fedrin was scrutinizing his data pad, watching his ships tighten their formation in preparation for the jump, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed a white light begin to blink furiously at Ensign Gallo’s station. Out of the thousands of lights, buttons and switches on the bridge, this particular one rarely turned on and its activation immediately caught Fedrin’s keen eyes. It caught Gallo’s attention too and he practically attacked the switch right below the light and looked intently into one of the screens at his station.

  Fedrin had already dashed across the room to Gallo’s side while the rest of the command crew officers stared on curiously.

  Fedrin and Gallo looked at the screen, and then at each other. Fedrin then reached down and switched input from Gallo’s station screen to the main screen in the front of the room while Gallo tried in vain to clean the quality. Something on the sending end of the transmission was wrong, seriously wrong.

  All the commotion in the room stopped when the screen activated. Several jaws dropped, followed by multiple shaking heads, gasps, and horrified faces. In a burnt out bridge that very much resembled the very room they were all standing in, was Vice-Admiral Sherman of the Third Fleet!

  Blood trickled down the side of his head from where an ear used to be. A deep gash ran from his forehead to the middle of his cheek, taking out his left eye and filling his beard with blood. His once handsome admiral’s uniform was torn at the mid section and near the shoulder. Blood stained it all over. He held himself upright by resting against what was left of the piloting station chair, occupied by only half of the pilot’s body. Blood was everywhere on the bridge, pooled where stations used to be and splattered against the walls and computer screens. Only one other person on the bridge appeared to be alive, the communications officer. As the transmission came into focus, he and Sherman were yelling back and forth to each other fervently. The communications officer desperately pressed buttons and poked at an open circuit panel beneath his station but to no avail.

  “Their transmission apparatus is blown to bits,” remarked Gallo. “From where the com-officer is fiddling, looks like the sound wave transmitters are destroyed.”

  The officer in the transmission slammed his station with both of his bloody fists in frustration and then looked helplessly up at Sherman. Sherman then yelled something to him and the officer jumped out of his chair and ran a data pad and script edger to him. Sherman took the pad and edger and painfully tried to look at what he was writing. His gouged left eye socket was gruesome so close to the camera. After a moment, he handed the pad back to the officer in frustration and put a small piece of fabric over his eye and pressed firmly while he began to dictate.

  Fedrin’s command crew stood gaping at the Iovara’s one and only Victory Class sister-ship, the NPF Gemdon. It was a sight of surreal horror. Nobody quite knew what to say or do.

  Sherman painfully and frustratingly spoke a few words, apparently choosing only the most relevant ones for lack of energy or time.

  Fedrin wanted so desperately to know what was happening. Suddenly, a noise from behind him began beeping. The Sixth Fleet had entered the zone of commitment for the jump.

  “Forty-five seconds before we jump!” Tarkin announced looking at a panel at his station.

  “Reverse engines!” Fedrin ordered. “We need to contact Sherman!”

  “That’ll rip us apart Admiral,” Tarkin humbly admonished.

  “I don’t care!” Fedrin snapped. “Do it!”

  “It’s called the zone of commitment for a reason Admiral,” Kesler interjected, saving Tarkin from further objection. “I have already assumed the helm from Tarkin and I will not input your order.”

  Fedrin looked at Kesler in momentary furry before turning back to the screen just as a huge explosion on the Gemdon erupted, causing sparks to fall from the ceiling as power cables were ripped from their conduits. Ceiling panels and support rods came crashing down about the bridge, one smashing the communication station to bits.

  The force of the explosion sent Admiral Sherman flying into what was left of the engineering station. Blood seeped up out his mouth and nose. He would never rise again.

  The communications officer, who had been hurled to the left side of the bridge, recovered from the impact and returned quickly with the data pad. He shoved it into the camera’s view.

  It read: “Third fleet totally destroyed! Krohn fleet overtook us. They have entered the Zelin system and will soon be in Seer space.”

  The transmission screen then left the image of the Gemdon’s wrecked bridge and was redirected to an exterior view. The screen was fuzzy but it was not hard to make out several Krohn vessels finishing off the remnants of fleeing Third Fleet ships. Missiles, laser fire and fighters swarmed the dead and dying cruisers and destroyers ensuring no survivors.

  Tears came to Fedrin’s eyes as he helplessly watched the Verhow Battle Cruiser get blown to pieces by a barrage of missiles. All seemed lost. The only hope left for the home world rested squarely on the planetary missile defenses, which would not be repaired for many days. He looked around the room at his officers. Each had complete confidence that their admiral knew what he was doing. If only he did.

  “Thank you for having common sense,” Fedrin said facing Tarkin and Kesler who both responded with a subtle nod but were too shook up themselves to say anything.

  Fedrin then looked back up at the screen as it began to flicker and then go black as the Iovara slipped into the anomaly leaving the home world to fend for itself.

  15. General Without an Army

  The mighty Corinthia, now commanded by the ne
wly appointed Tenith, led the Sixth Fleet with daunting authority through the jump. She shimmered beautifully, as did the rest of the fleet, with a radiant blue light that danced back and forth on her hull as it sped through the bridge-way between the two distant star systems. The jump was nearing an end and had been fairly uneventful, a good thing when it comes to warp-point travel.

  “Status report?” demanded Tenith as he paced his bridge uneasily.

  “Everything is still normal,” his First Lieutenant answered wearily without even checking his screens this time.

  “And what’s our latest exit time?” Tenith asked.

  His piloting officer rolled his eyes. “We will clear the jump in another two hours.”

  Tenith nodded anxiously as he continued to pace back and forth, a nervous habit he had developed during a bad jump experience in the past. The sooner he was out of the cursed system bridge, the better.

  “We are receiving a transmission from the Iovara,” the communications officer said, offering Tenith a much-needed distraction.

  Tenith fidgeted with his hands until the Corinthia’s screen came to life and First Lieutenant Kesler’s face filled it up. Tenith dropped his hands to his side and tried to look cool and poised. He was delighted that Kesler could see him commanding the ship and wanted to come across as strong and resolute.

  “What can I do for you...Lieutenant,” asked Tenith, emphasizing the difference in their ranks by his tone.

  “You look a little space sick…Commander” remarked Kesler, seemingly indifferent to Tenith’s jab. “Is it the jump again? You never could handle them at the academy. Remember the time you puked all over our drill sergeant during zero-G training?”

  “I’m fine!” Tenith snapped and then quickly regained his composure. “I’m fine Kesler. Now what do you need from me?”

  “As long as you’re not throwing up all over the bridge, Fedrin wants the Corinthia to take point once we clear the jump. If there’s anyone on the other side of the bridge, we need to be ready for them.”

  “Understood,” answered Tenith as he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the dizzying feelings coming over him. “Is that all?” he asked, opening his eyes and trying to fix them on the screen.

  “That’s all,” Kesler said followed by a smile. “But you may want to relay the directions to your Executive Officer.”

  “And why is that?” asked Tenith with an unamused expression.

  Kesler shrugged. “You may need to finish the jump in the infirmary. You don’t look so good!” Kesler exclaimed and then cut the tele-link before Tenith could reply.

  Tenith rubbed his sweating forehead while still trying to maintain the appearance that he was feeling fine when suddenly it hit him again, this time with a vengeance. He dove for the washroom off the bridge. His officers did their best to ignore the heaving noises as they smiled and shook their heads.

  ***

  The afternoon sun shown through his office windows and caressed his face with its warm rays. He felt cold.

  He clutched the steely data pad with trembling hands, his reddened eyes unable to focus on the screen’s content. Tears spotted his desk like the first raindrops on a dry rock soon to be lost in the deluge.

  Darion had deployed the army to the arctic as prompted by Senator Trivis and Defense Councilman Armid. He had felt trepidation as he did it, hearing Reesa’s pleading echo in his mind as he gave the orders. Her impassioned words of warning now haunted him with deep regret and looming foreboding. She had sacrificed herself to warn him and he had given it no heed. Now she was gone and he was left alone with a decision that was not his own but rather purchased from him by men he began to realize he hardly knew at all.

  The fateful decision gnawed at Darion the entire sleepless night and into the predawn hours of the morning. The thought that he may have been manipulated made him wonder why having the army in the arctic was so important after all. Why his army? Was it really his ability at leading men Trivis and Armid sought? Was it really his exceptional strategic skills? Hardly! The revelation of his manipulation slowly began to take form through the long restless hours of the night until he had had enough!

  As he contacted his lieutenants and officers to cancel the deployment and bring the troops back to Larep, he no longer cared if Senator Trivis would withdraw his funding increase. He no longer cared if he held the favor of Armid or any of the others on the Defense Council. He was a General in the Namuh military, responsible for his army and for the first time in many years, he was ready to take the heat for a decision that did not directly benefit him.

  Darion never would have guessed the ramifications of his change in heart. As he reread the telecast bulletin on his data pad tears again swelled in his eyes. It couldn’t be true. He read it again, wiping the bitter tears out of his eyes as he did. He read it the same as every time before. He felt sick to his stomach and nearly had to hold onto his desk to keep from falling over in utter despair.

  “General!” exclaimed Jarvik as the young officer burst into Darion’s office without knocking.

  Darion looked up in a daze, unable to answer his trusted officer.

  “This can’t be right!” Jarvik said fervently, pointing to his own copy of the bulletin clutched in his hand. “Tell me this isn’t right! Tell me there is some mistake?”

  Darion shook his head. “There is no mistake Jarvik. I’ve already received two independent confirmations.”

  “The numbers must be wrong!” protested Jarvik. “It can’t be thirty-nine. It can’t be!”

  Darion nodded slowly. “Of the forty-two troop transports sent to the arctic, only three managed to make it. The rest were shot down somewhere over the delta wastelands by Clear Skies.”

  “But how?” Jarvik pressed. “You canceled the deployment! We spent all morning confirming the cancelation with the squad leaders and recalling the troops!”

  “That is why they were killed,” Darion said reluctantly, shaking his head in overwhelming grief and guilt. “Their death sentences were written out when I ordered the deployment. The sentences were carried out when I called them home.”

  Jarvik shook his head. “So Clear Skies just opened fire on our transport ships? It makes no sense General, no sense at all!”

  Darion nodded slowly, hearing Kebbs and Reesa’s warnings repeat in his mind and wishing he had come to his senses sooner.

  “How could this happen?” exclaimed Jarvik once again. “Clear Skies is supposed to be our final and strongest defense, not our downfall! Who is responsible for this atrocity? They must be held accountable!”

  “I am responsible,” Darion answered despondently.

  Jarvik looked at his General in surprise. “You, Sir?”

  “Its a long story,” answered Darion.

  Jarvik shook his head. “Don’t exactly have time for long stories right now sir. A Krohn invasion fleet is closing in on us and we need to prepare for it. What should we do?”

  “What can we do?” Darion blurted out with tears streaming down his face. “There is no army left to mobilize! I’ve killed them all! Don’t you understand? This was their plan from the beginning!”

  “We can call up the cadets and local security forces,” suggested Jarvik, ignoring Darion’s hopelessness. “They may not be the best but it beats the alternative...of nothing!”

  “You do it,” Darion said as he slumped back in his chair. “You command what you can find. I’m resigning.”

  “You can’t do that, Sir! We need you!”

  Darion shook his head. “The army needs me like you need a hole in your head! I’ve done my damage Jarvik. It’s time for someone else to give it a go.”

  Jarvik sighed as he shook his head. “I’ll rally what forces I can, Sir, but I’ll do it as a command from you. Mistakes or no, you are the still the highest-ranking officer we have right now. We can’t lose you.”

  “Do what makes you happy,” said Darion dismissively. “Now if you don’t mind, I have something I need to do.”


  Jarvik looked at Darion uneasily. “Don’t do anything stupid...with all due respect.”

  “You are dismissed Jarvik,” said Darion sharply.

  “But, Sir…”

  “If you insist on keeping me as your General you had better obey me! Now go! Do what you can for our people! I’ll do the same here!”

  “Yes, Sir,” answered Jarvik reluctantly, suspecting dark intentions on the part of the General.

  Once alone, Darion sat back in his chair in misery and listened to the steps of his best and brightest officer fade away. He wanted so desperately to get up, shake off his self-pity and join him in the defense of his world but he knew that he had nothing left to offer. The revelation that he had been nothing more than a self-absorbed pawn in a grand plan orchestrated by the enemy no longer shocked him. He had somehow known in the back of his mind the entire time that he was being set up, but he never wanted to admit it to himself.

  The more he thought about the last several months, the more he felt like a fool. He wasn’t sitting at an expensive desk in a luxurious office suite because he had special abilities that set him apart from the rest. The reality of the situation was that he had been hand selected for his incompetence and manipulability. By who and for what ultimate purpose, Darion couldn’t begin to guess, but what did it matter at this point? Reesa had been arrested, the Third and Second Fleets were destroyed, the remains of the Sixth were gone, a Krohn armada was on its way and his own army had just been destroyed.

  With surprisingly little hesitation, Darion opened a drawer at his desk and removed a small pistol from its foam casing. It hadn’t been fired in years and shimmered just as it did the day he had been issued it. He handled it gently, as if he feared it before suddenly turning the safety off. He slowly brought the weapon to his temple. He was about to do the unthinkable when an incoming transmission sounded. He didn’t know why he did it, but he nervously tossed the gun back into the drawer and activated the transmission, shocked with what he almost did and yet lamenting the interruption. Armid’s face filled the screen.