by John Walker
Showdown
Rise Of Mankind
Book 10
John Walker
Copyright © 2017 John Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit language and violence.
Blurb
The decades long conflict comes crashing to a dramatic conclusion as the alliance faces off with their age old enemy to determine the fate of the galaxy. As the massive fleet launches for a final battle, The Behemoth and The Crystal Font are tasked with a dangerous mission to destroy a transmission facility which may well be the deciding factor in the outcome of the attack.
They’ve committed everything, heading into a situation which may well spell their end. Pilots, marines and crewmen alike look toward the moment that will make history regardless if they are victorious. A win means peace for the beleaguered alliance, a chance to heal from the wounds of war while a loss could lead to the destruction of their respective cultures if not civilization as they know it.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Prologue
The world shook. Fire licked the walls and smoke made the air thick. Every tremor made it harder to move, each step little more than a stumble toward hope. Death seemed obvious, a foregone conclusion in the wake of such total destruction. The Fates themselves must’ve frowned upon Trellan En’Dal as he desperately strove to escape finality.
This is the final moment of my life. The thought brought no despair, no anger…just a horrifying acceptance of the truth. Despite his mind trying to come to terms with the inevitable, his body and instinct would not give up. He continued on, grabbing onto the ladder and hoisting himself up.
As he went, metal around him groaned and pipes burst. Hissing competed with the crackle of flames. Horror didn’t come close to describing the scene and as he made his way up, he fostered a sense of indignation that he should die in such a place. After all I’ve done and seen, it is wrong to leave the world on this note.
Trellan crawled to his feet as he finished his climb, stumbling forward. Another explosion made the room shake and something flew by directly in front of him. A pipe went ten inches into a metal wall, sliding in as easily as if it went through air. That could’ve been me. Maybe there’s still a chance.
He didn’t want to believe it, almost couldn’t allow himself to but he pressed on. Even as the walls bulged around him and pressure began to build, he felt determined to escape, to live one more day. He’d always clambered for another inch, one more second and as he applied this notion to the situation at hand, he wondered if his luck finally ran out.
The flames around him offered an ominous answer.
Chapter 1
Clea looked at herself in the mirror, wearing her dress uniform and didn’t recognize the eyes staring back. Tathin An’Tufal. The rank still didn’t feel right and as she considered her career path, she wondered if she would even hold it long enough to settle in. It might come in handy when working with the military but as an intelligence officer, did it even matter?
Everything she’d been through to that point felt like a dream flying by swiftly at the speed of thought. Retrofitting The Behemoth seemed a lifetime ago. Working with the humans, living among them and training their people, had been amazing. Though they put in long hours, it had been peaceful labor, building instead of destroying.
For that, she’d been grateful but she always knew it would end. And when it finally did, when the enemy attacked the system again, everything changed. Humanity became players in galactic problems. They proved themselves capable of surviving the worst the universe had to throw at them. Kielan bureaucracy put them to work and they never shied from challenges.
The research facility, the mining station, tracking down the signal and finding Durant…they’d been involved in so many adventures, she barely remembered them. Had they not all been written down in her reports and logs, she might’ve thought some of them were fantasies. These strong people, this race of beings who barely probed the stars a decade ago, had become a second family to her.
And when this final battle is over, I’ll have to say goodbye to them.
Clea shared their joys, pains, and losses. Their missions had not been without casualties. Pilots, soldiers, crewmen…they’d met many fates. Knowing the risks didn’t help, especially those left behind. Funeral services were to be held at the space station for both The Crystal Font and The Behemoth before Clea visited Siva.
The two crews planned to intermix, sharing the losses together. Some of them had become quite close. Clea saw Vinthari Alma Il’Var and Wing Commander Meagan Pointer together immediately upon their arrival back home. The two embraced and spoke animatedly about their actions.
Some of the soldiers also congregated, sharing tactics and stories of what they did on the space station trying to take out the terrorist’s base. They all had some experience to relate, from the lowest rank engineer to the Captain and Anthar of each vessel. Clea wondered how somber they would all be during the funeral service.
Luckily, some of the people thought to be killed survived. Squadron Leader Mick Tauren made it though he spent the better part of two hours in his escape pod waiting for search and rescue. The most profound survivor came in the form of Trellan En’Dal, who barely escaped the Orion’s Light flagship in an escape pod.
The intelligence agent had received some injuries from a brawl but the modern medical center got him back on his feet quickly. Kielan doctors declared he’d have full recovery by the time the fleet invaded the enemy’s space. Clea believed the man would push to be involved, despite his insistence of wanting to retire.
Men like him didn’t walk away until the fight was truly over, even if his part had little to do with the overarching enemy casting its shadow over the alliance.
Clea moved over to the porthole and stared out at the various ships in orbit around the home world. Vessels from every race in the alliance congregated there, preparing for the final assault. Their commanders waited for a major briefing the next day, the last communication with high command before they all headed out to decide the fate of the entire galaxy.
The pressure certainly isn’t lost on me. Attacking this system could be one of the easiest operations of our communal histories or the absolute hardest. It all depends on what sort of force our opponent can field. I checked intelligence reports and no one’s reported a sighting of them for some time. Do they somehow know that we’re about to attack?
Are they preparing for us?
Such paranoia silently seethed beneath the surface throughout the fleet. Clea felt it when she walked through the halls of The Behemoth and on the space station. The tension may have been the uncertainty of the battle but gossip ran rampant. As they related to one another the lack of conflict in their own missions,
worry built.
I wonder how high command is taking it.
Siva might know. When Clea met with her, she’d certainly ask. If anyone had their pulse on the opinions of the government, it would intelligence. They weren’t only monitoring external threats but those from within as well. This meant spying on high ranking officials, something Clea couldn’t imagine would go over well should such tactics be discovered.
Surely, someone authorized it besides Siva. Clea didn’t know if she could be quite so naive. When Siva stepped down, how would she handle such things? How many threats did they uncover from high ranking personnel? She needed these statistics to determine the path going forward.
Will my intelligence division be effective if I adhere to a moral standard Siva clearly doesn’t care about?
A chime indicated Clea needed to move to get to the funeral service. Once she arrived on the space station, she knew she’d be extremely busy for the rest of two shifts. Drawing a deep breath, she grabbed her tablet and stuffed it into a satchel. Heading down the hall, she steeled herself for an emotionally difficult time.
Let the amusement park ride begin. Gray had a more specific term for it but she couldn’t remember. Regardless, the sentiment sat in the pit of her stomach like a rock threatening to burst out. It threatened her appetite and made her dread her meetings afterward. Ultimately, it felt wrong pressing a funeral against military meetings.
At least the soldiers will get a chance to mingle and relax. They need it more than I do and deserve it twice as much. Here’s hoping they get what they need before risking their lives again.
***
Wing Commander Meagan Pointer stood on the edge of the crowd, peering up at the stage in one of the space station auditoriums. Several taller people blocked her sight so she moved to the right until she found a decent vantage between a pair of heads. The crews from two ships easily filled the area and she didn’t envy those nearer the front.
I can’t imagine they aren’t experiencing at least a mild form of claustrophobia.
A hand touched her back and she looked back, smiling at Vinthari Alma Il’Var. They’d known each other a short time but still become close friends. Their plan involved meeting up before grabbing their wings and being present for the people who survived the last action. Solidarity between pilots seemed like a good idea.
Meagan’s dress uniform, black jacket with white pants and tall boots stood as a stark contrast to Alma’s white on white. They both wear several decorations on their chests, campaign ribbons for the human and metal pips for the kielan. As the crews melted together, they looked like a mingling of salt and pepper cast over the gray metal of the floor and walls.
“It was hard to find you,” Alma said. “This place packed up fast.”
“I know.” Meagan looked at her tablet. “The others are sending a ping for us to follow. They’re to the right if you’re ready.”
“I don’t know,” Alma replied. “I’m…preparing myself to be strong for others.”
“I get it. I’m worried about that too. Flight Lieutenant Benning’s death was my fault. We pursued that bastard out of my pride…and we went right into his trap.”
“You can’t blame yourself for that. All intelligence indicated that the Orion’s Light flagship was in a hangar, not merely hiding beneath an asteroid waiting for their cowardly leader to board.” Alma shook her head. “Sincerely, you all did what you could. That pilot was a true menace, one we had to take down.”
“You’re right…but it doesn’t make it easier.”
Alma frowned. “Would anything?”
Meagan started to answer but stopped herself. Her friend was right. Nothing could’ve made David’s death easy to take. And she almost lost Mick as well. They’d lost pilots in the war, several in fact, and she felt every one of them. Especially Leslie, who was executed by the enemy to make a point.
I’m glad we got to put it to him finally.
“Come on.” Alma patted her shoulder. “This ceremony is about to start and the faster they finish talking, the sooner we can have a drink. I believe I’m in serious need for something strong.”
“I’ll lead the way.”
Meagan pressed through the crowd off to the far left of the crowd where the other pilots lined up against the wall. The stiffened at the approach of their wing commanders but Meagan waved them down, allowing them to relax. “Please, we’re all here to honor our fallen. No need to be formal here.”
Mick made it out of sick bay in time for the ceremony and would be cleared for active duty the next day. This relieved Meagan to no end. She did not want to go into battle without her squadron leader. They’d spoken at length about his feelings concerning battle and whether not he could take it. Some lost their edge after being shot down.
To Meagan’s delight, Mick was eager to get back into a cockpit and his psych evaluation proved it wasn’t merely bravado. A brief staff meeting the night before proved out everyone’s commitment to the final push, the end of a war. Few men and women could ever say they were at the end of a conflict. This historic occasion appealed to many of the human soldiers.
Providing we all get to go home but I’m not going to be that naive. We’ll lose people. That’s just how it goes. When we arrive on Earth, if I’m lucky enough to get there, I’ll be visiting several families. I can’t let the gravity of that hit me until after the fight.
Distraction at this phase might be deadly.
Captain Atwell, Commander Everly, Anthar Ru’Xin and Anthar Du’Zhatha all took the stage and a somber silence fell over the crowd. Meagan stood up straighter, tightening her hands into fists. Here we go.
Captain Atwell stepped up to the podium and leaned toward the microphone. “Thank you for all assembling here. We’ve come together to pay respect to those we lost in our operations. Not only this most recent one but those in the past as well. We’ve been moving a light speed and have barely had a chance to breathe. Now’s our opportunity before taking another plunge.
“Each of you has contributed to a universal conflict, defending the galaxy against multiple threats. Our efforts came with a cost. While we have saved many and protected others, lives were risked…and unfortunately, lost. The bravery of our men and women can never be measured and when they made the ultimate sacrifice, they did so as true heroes.
“I have the great privilege and honor of leading you through these campaigns. I could not be more proud of our accomplishments. Some may feel leadership seems detached, that we make decisions thoughtless of those under our command. Perhaps if you go high enough in the chain, such a notion is accurate. When names and faces fade into numbers and gains.
“Those of us serving aboard the same ship, those of us who walk the same halls, know what it means to go into battle. Every day I look into the eyes of those I work with and I know, as surely as they do, we may never meet again. The next conflict may be our last, theirs or mine. I personally knew those men and women who perished in the battle with Orion’s Light and my heart remains heavy.
“This next action, taking the fight to the real enemy, may be our last in several regards. Victory means the rest of the galaxy can take a deep breath and resume living in peace. We are putting ourselves on the line for that freedom, the same as our slain did. We honor their memories by fighting on and we honor their sacrifice by completing the race.
“Thank you, everyone. Anthar Ru’Xin?”
Kale nodded to Gray and took his place before the podium. He looked over the people gathered and didn’t speak for some time. His shoulders straightened and he pursed his lips. “Our people believe in the Fates. Every child grows up with the belief in a directing hand, however subtle, guiding us to where we must go.
“Sometimes, this path leads to something positive, a benevolent conclusion to a journey. Then there comes the reason we have gathered here today. The mystery of fate can only be answered when we pass on. Those who perished may well be solving their own enigma even as we speak. One last puzzle before eter
nity.
“When we are close to those who have gone, it becomes increasingly difficult to embrace these beliefs. We find them childish or naive. The pain we feel swells and endures, the grieving process is not salved by notions we cannot understand. Faith becomes a question and we are left to wonder if we’ve deceived ourselves for years.
“For my part, I can tell you I believe in the Fates. Too many things have happened to all of us to be totally random. Our experience at the manufactured world after the research facility. The battle with Orion’s Light and the spectacular work all of you accomplished in defeating them. My own rise to Anthar after my friend and mentor perished in battle.
“I have carried the guilt of that last statement for some time but one thing none of us can do is carry the weight of the dead upon our shoulders. We, each of us, has entered a profession which carries a fatal risk. Perhaps it is not pounded into our brains with enough vigor during training but each of you understands now.
“As Captain Atwell said, we must honor the sacrifices and those of our people. Nothing must be in vain. We will conclude this business with our enemies and though none of you will feel the worth of death, you will fathom the reason we willingly risk ourselves for such a noble cause. Thank you.”
The crowd offered somber applauds. Meagan glanced at Alma and was surprised to see her eyes glistening. The vinthari probably needed those words more than most. She’d lost multiple pilots in the past two missions and definitely carried some of the guilt. After all they’d been through, Meagan understood completely.
All the leaders left the stage and the crowd began to mingle, conversations turning to a low roar. Meagan patted Alma on the shoulder and turned to Mick, offering him a thin smile. They embraced and chatted quietly, bringing the others into the fold and discussing what they wanted to drink.