Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy)

by Mike Smith

  “But we don’t have any weapon systems that can target them,” the Tactical Officer reminded him. “Our bow and dorsal railguns are too large to accurately target them. If we’re lucky we might hit one or two, nothing more than that.”

  “Sirs,” the Helm Officer swallowed hard, before continuing on. “I wasn’t proposing that we fire on them. I was suggesting that we intercept them. We position the ship between the missiles and departing shuttles,” he added to the stunned officers.

  “There are over thirty of them, all with high explosive warheads. What you are suggesting…” the Operations Officer shook his head. “While the ship might be called Invincible, I can assure you that we’re certainly not. It would be suicide.”

  All eyes on the bridge turned to face Jon questioningly.

  “We have already sacrificed so much.” Jon sighed. “If we don’t do something then everything we have already done, all we’ve lost, it will be for nothing. Unless somebody has a better idea?”

  The silence across the bridge was deafening.

  “Very well,” Jon agreed determinedly. “Signal the rest of the fleet. Tell them the Invincible is breaking formation to stop those missiles. Helm, set an intercept course, maximum possible speed.”

  *****

  Malthus leaned back comfortably in his seat on the bridge of the Revenge, stretching out his legs, tired from all the pacing he had been doing recently. He planned to fully enjoy the next few minutes. While it might not be as satisfying as watching Radec’s family die in person, it came a very close second.

  “Time to intercept?” he called out in a cheerful voice.

  “Two minutes,” came the prompt reply.

  Two minutes to savour his revenge, for Radec had been a thorn in his side for far too long. Idly Malthus wondered if this would break the man, as he had a reputation for caring deeply about those close to him. Malthus shrugged. If not, his wife was still around somewhere and he had promised Radec what he would do to her.

  “Captain,” an officer called. “We’ve destroyed the command centre on the station, all the station’s weapon systems have now ceased fire.”

  “Excellent,” Malthus acknowledged in an elated tone. “While this day did not start off as well as I’d hoped, I want to congratulate you all on—”

  “The Invincible,” another officer interrupted him. “She’s moving. The ship is breaking formation and beginning to get underway.”

  “What?” Malthus snarled, like a bucket of cold water being doused over him, his enjoyment of the moment completely ruined. “Going where?”

  “I don’t understand. The ship is on an intercept course with the missiles.”

  “Captain Miller. Explain,” Malthus insisted in a deadly tone of voice.

  “I don’t understand it either, Senator,” for the first time Miller looked truly bewildered. “The Invincible is a battleship, she has no armament small enough to engage those missiles. It’s impossible.”

  “Thank you Captain,” Malthus resumed his seat, relieved that is was just a desperately futile last attempt by Radec, doomed to failure.

  “Unless—”

  “Captain,” Malthus swore. “You just told me that they had no weapons to destroy those missiles with. True or false?”

  “True, Senator,” Miller reassured him. “But it just occurred to me, there is one final weapon they still possess that perhaps I had overlooked.”

  “And what might that be?” Malthus growled.

  “The ship itself—the Invincible,” Miller explained. “They’re going to sacrifice themselves by shielding the shuttles with the battleship.”

  For the second time in as many hours Malthus was completely speechless.

  *****

  “Impact in ten seconds,” the Operations Officer called out to the rest of the command deck.

  “Brace for collision,” Jon insisted. Taking tight hold of the seat he was in, he watched the rest of the command staff doing likewise, taking firm hold of any seat, console or anything else within reach they could use to brace themselves on.

  The first impact was a little less than ten seconds later.

  It was a massive, ringing blow that reverberated throughout the ship, as the first missile impacted across the bow. The missile exploded immediately upon impact, caring little about the target, having already armed soon after launch. The aging battleship shuddered from the mighty blow, but the heavy armour on the bow held—

  Then the rest of the missiles arrived, slamming into the hull one after the other, each detonation seeming to magnify the next, until a massive bloom of white light rippled across the entire length of the hull. The force of the repeated blasts causing the ship to shake and tilt at an alarming angle. It was a testament to the construction and strength of the ship that the thick armour survived the first few impacts, but after that the missiles broke through, exploding inside the hull. The repeated detonations destroyed compartments, raced down corridors, tearing gaping holes in the side of the ship. Almost immediately heavy blast doors started to slam shut along the length of the ship, limiting the vacuum of space, saving many a life. Those on the pressurised side of the doors. Those trapped on the other side, now open to the depths of space, having been unlucky enough to survive the explosion, were subjected to a particularly painful and gruesome death.

  One particular explosion struck the reserve ammunition magazine for the flight deck, the resulting fireball engulfing the entire hangar. Fortunately the flight deck was mostly devoid of ships, all having launched earlier—leaving only the deck crew to perish in the fiery blaze.

  The massive detonations continued to reverberate throughout the ship, each one seemingly stronger than the last, or so it seemed to those on the command deck. Finally it mattered little what the crew were holding onto. All were thrown to the floor, stunned by the massive shockwaves pealing through the ship, before an especially close missile detonated and everything went white and still—before slowly fading to black.

  *****

  Gunny moved swiftly through the now quiet and deserted station. There had been a very heavy, constant pounding of explosions several minutes earlier—and then silence. In many ways the silence bothered him more, as he was used to the constant noise of footsteps on the station, conversations echoing down the corridors, the quick platter of young feet from children raced around the halls.

  The silence was deafening. As if the station had finally succumbed to the enemy fire and had now slipped into a deep coma. Even the lights had faded, to be replaced by the dim, red emergency lighting.

  It took him several minutes to prise open the doors to the guest quarters set aside for the Commander’s family. Quickly sweeping the room with his sidearm, he confirmed that it was empty, before moving on to search all the rooms.

  All were likewise empty.

  Sitting down heavily on the bed, he stopped to think. He had been certain the children would have been hiding here, as had they been in the quarters he shared with Jane, she would have already found them.

  Where else could they be?

  Gunny sighed, struggling to his feet, surprised at the sound of his own laboured breathing, he was getting too old for this. It suddenly occurred to him it was not his shortness of breath causing the heavy breathing—as the breathing did not come from him.

  He looked under the bed, where three pairs of frightened eyes stared back at him, unblinkingly.

  “Out,” he ordered, as the three of them scurried out from under the bed. “What are you doing here?” he demanded gruffly. Frustration warred with relief that he had finally found them all, safe and well.

  “We’re very sorry,” Elizabeth replied hesitantly. “We were playing when all the alarms started to sound. We couldn’t find anybody and, well, you always said that we should remain in our quarters if the alarms sounded. When the lights went out, we got frightened and thought it best if we hide. Please don’t be angry with us.”

  Gunny observed the three children, each looking miserable, fu
lly expecting him to punish them, and the last of his anger ebbed away. Leaving him to wonder just what to do with three children, on what was probably now a completely abandoned station. He scratched his head, as he’d never been in this position before and, having never been particularly good with children, he had no idea how to deal with this. As usual, whenever faced by an unfamiliar situation, he fell back on his deeply ingrained training.

  “Right, listen up marines.” Standing straight and tall, he emphasised the word. “Here is the sit-rep. We’re under attack by an unknown numbers of hostile forces. They’ve finished the naval bombardment, so will probably be landing troops imminently. Our mission is to evade capture and seek transport for ex-filtration. Any questions?” he barked.

  Three little heads shook in amazement.

  “Very well, I will take point. You will follow close behind and remain on constant alert for any enemy forces. Now move out marines.”

  Leading the small group from the bedroom, he thought he’d handled that difficult situation particularly well.

  His old gunnery sergeant would have been proud.

  *****

  For the third time in as many hours, multiple wormholes started to form in the Aquila System, as this time the 8th Confederation Fleet; led by the battleship Relentless arrived in the system.

  “This is madness Sofia,” Paul tried one final time to reason with her, as none of his earlier attempts had met with any success. As far as he was concerned Jon was welcome to her—let him deal with her. “Miranda, can’t you talk some sense into her?”

  “I happen to agree with Sofia, if we can help, we must,” Miranda insisted.

  “Anyway, I don’t see how this is any more crazy than you taking the Sunfire to Tartarus, all alone,” Sofia reminded him.

  Paul scratched his day old stubble thoughtfully; she had a point there.

  “Anyway Captain Vickers was most supportive of this action,” Miranda added, nodding her head in the direction of the view-screen, which displayed Captain Vickers and his smaller task-force just arriving.

  “Vickers is more than slightly crazy, so his opinion doesn’t count. He’s been trying to get himself killed for the past decade. Unfortunately nobody has obliged him yet.”

  “I don’t care,” Sofia insisted resolutely. “We have to do what we can to help, at least then we know we tried.”

  Both women stood side-by-side, determinedly, daring him to disagree.

  Resignedly Paul finally nodded his head in agreement. After all, like Jon, his family were also on the station, and he was just as desperate for news. They had not heard from anybody on the station for several hours.

  Unfortunately they were already too late, as they had arrived just in time to observe the destruction of the last remaining ship of the 4th Fleet.

  All on the command deck fell silent, as they observed the destruction wrought ahead of them. For the 4th Fleet had put up a valiant struggle, but in the end the sheer number of enemy ships, and the firepower arrayed against them, was simply overwhelming.

  They watched wordlessly as the first missile blossomed against the side of the Invincible, followed by another, and another, before the bright white light of explosions consumed the entire battleship as it disappeared from sight entirely.

  Sofia didn’t even realise that she was holding onto Paul tightly, until he pulled her against him, shielding her from the gruesome final act taking place on the screen—as the mighty battleship finally succumbed to the endless wave of missiles.

  At a startled cry from one of the bridge officers, Sofia turned back to face the screen, as her despair turned to a glimmer of hope. For as the explosions started to dissipate the Invincible once again became visible, living up to her namesake. She was mortally wounded however, as fires were clearly visible across all her decks, fed by the last vestiges of atmosphere still seeping through the holes in her hull. The ship was barely recognisable; great chucks torn from her, and what remained was horribly warped and disfigured. The powerful fore and aft guns were missing, torn loose by the ferocious force of the explosions. Her engines were obviously off-line as she only drifted, the ship tilted to one side, knocked sideways by the force of the detonations, but she still lived—just.

  “Jon,” Sofia cried out frantically.

  “Try and raise the Invincible,” Paul ordered swiftly.

  *****

  Jon shook his head, but still could only see darkness. He wondered if the explosion had blinded him—or was he simply dead?

  Slowly, little by little, things started to come into focus again, a twinkling light on a console here, a shifting shadow of a fellow officer there, as he slowly staggered to his feet.

  Then the lights suddenly flickered back to life, revealing the scene of devastation all around him. The ceiling had collapsed in many places, showering the command deck with trailing wires and power cables. In random places, load-bearing struts had come crashing down, piercing both ceiling and floor. That was where any floor still remained, as in many places only gaping holes now existed.

  Turning to his side, Jon observed one such load-bearing strut, that must have missed him by inches. The Captain had not been so fortunate, as he was pinned to the deck, the strut piercing his chest. Jon did not need to check if he was still alive, as his eyes were open. Staring back at him emptily, they seemed to bore into his soul.

  Dragging his gaze from the dead body, he tried to focus on helping those that remained alive. He finally managed to make it to the Operations Officer, who, although having a large cut to the forehead, at least seemed alive and conscious, when so many around them were dead.

  “What’s the damage report?” he demanded.

  “Easier to list what isn’t damaged, my Lord,” the Operations Officer grimaced. “Engines off-line, main power off-line, weapons off-line, multiple hull breaches throughout the ship and life support is failing. It’s a miracle the ship is even still in one piece, sir.”

  Jon was not surprised by the damage assessment, for if the rest of the ship was anything like the command deck, then it was a lost cause. “What about the rest of the fleet?”

  “Gone. There is nobody else left sir. We’re the last.”

  Jon closed his eyes to stave off the despair, as once again he had led everybody to disaster. All he could do now was try to save whoever was left. “Issue the order for the crew to abandon ship, and then go. There is nothing left for you to do here.”

  The officer nodded his head in understanding, and Jon watched as he issued the command before stumbling from the command deck, stopping only momentarily to help another officer to his feet.

  The two of them disappearing through the slightly ajar door, leaving him alone—with the dead.

  Once they were gone, he carefully stepped around the bodies, retaking his seat. This time it would be different, as he had no final duty to fulfil, no last order to carry out. He wouldn’t leave and let the others die alone. This time he would face the Great Maker in person, having cheated death so many times before. This time he would stand in judgement—

  An incessant beeping from the communication console interrupted his thoughts. Concerned it might be David on Terra Nova, he cautiously moved to the console, studying it for a moment, before activating the correct sequence to accept the incoming transmission.

  As he turned back to his seat, he froze as the view-screen came to life, showing the last person that he ever expected to see again—the pale, tear-stained face of his wife.

  “Sofia?” he gasped thankful for the seat behind him, as otherwise he would have gone crashing to the deck. “What are you doing here? I left you with Robert Calis, safe on Callas Prime.”

  “You didn’t really think that I was going to remain there did you? While you were off saving the Galaxy?” she sniffled.

  For the first time since he had last spoken to her, an honest smile graced his lips, and he was relieved that he had this short time with her—to say goodbye.

  “I’m sorry,” Jon frown
ed. “Why is it that whenever we’re talking I’m always apologising to you?”

  “You're my husband, it’s to be expected,” she smiled through the tears. “Don’t worry I forgive you for whatever it is that you are apologising for. Just as long as you promise that you will come back to me, alive and well.”

  “I wish that I could,” Jon frowned. “As I would give anything to be able to hold you in my arms one last time, so that I could say goodbye properly.”

  “No,” Sofia suddenly shouted, incensed. “I’m fed up with this martyr crap from you. It’s not noble, it’s not courageous and I am not impressed by it. It’s just your own wretched way to try and evade responsibility for your actions. You stay there, we’re going to come and get you,” she insisted stubbornly.

  “I don’t particularly look forward to dying,” Jon refuted, frowning. “If nothing else I have a lot of enemies impatiently awaiting for my arrival in hell. Instead I was offered a choice, something that few people have when death comes stalking them. But how could I run, when doing so would condemn everyone that I loved? I’ve already made my peace, now you must decide what is most important—you have to choose.”

  “I don’t understand,” Sofia trembled, as she had a terrible feeling that this truly was going to be their final parting. “What choice, what decision?”

  “You will observe the shuttles that are in the process of fleeing the station. They contain the entire compliment of the station, including my family—and yours. They desperately need your help. You need to choose which to save, who lives and who dies. Just like I did.”

  Sofia could only stare at him in horror. “I cannot make that decision.”

  “Look inside yourself, and you will find the right answer,” Jon smiled sadly. “Perhaps in some ways I do know you better than yourself. More than that, remember what I told you on Calis Prime, that whatever happens we will always be together, in the end. I promise to wait for you.” He turned around, ready to make a final stand, for while he knew that he couldn’t win, every minute longer that he could hold out would be another minute that the crew would have to escape.