by H. T. Kofruk
Giovanni crossed the large room, leaving grime and gravel on the pure white floor. He knelt in front of the Man in White and kissed the famous ring on the even more famous finger. He said a short prayer before being blessed by the Man in White and standing up.
“You are troubled, my child” said the Man in White.
Giovanni almost laughed at being called ‘my child’ by someone who was ten years younger than him. “I have bad news, Your Holiness. The enemy has breached our marine shield. The launch of thousands of fighters and troops transporters has been detected from Europe. We believe they will reach us within thirty minutes.”
The Man in White sighed while the chamberlain put on an expression of concern. “We must pray” he said.
Giovanni almost shouted out in frustration. He wanted to take the Man in White by the ridiculously clean, white collar and shake him into reality. He wanted to tell him ‘if God doesn’t make one million soldiers appear from a bowl of bread, then he can shove it!’
He didn’t say anything, however, and merely looked on as the One God Pope closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer. He was wasting his time. The Holy Office had a thousand of the finest soldiers in the Atlantic Alliance, all dressed in the preposterous white costumes but unable to participate in the war since they were the Pope’s personal guards. He walked out of the white room with its white inhabitants. The two Celestial Guards stood as still as statues.
What seemed like bolts of red lightening lit the cloud-covered sky, providing brief glances of the silhouettes of the dozens of sword-shaped ships in lower orbit. He knew that the enemy was pushing as hard as possible in orbit in order to be able to protect their ground troops. The sea had been an effective barrier for months but the enemy had finally eliminated the remaining submersibles that had mercilessly destroyed any of their vessels that dared attempt a crossing. He still didn’t know how they were destroyed, only that they had lost communication with all of them an hour ago.
A siren sounded in the Holy City of Boston, the birthplace of Saint Andrew Palini. Missile silos and giant cannons emerged from the ground and pointed towards the heavens. Blue-clad troops streamed out of barracks to man their defence posts.
He had escaped death twice already but didn’t think he’d escape a third time. He jumped in a military pulse glider that had been waiting for him with two soldiers. It would take him far from the fighting to the underground war room in a secret location. As the glider pulled through the streets he could see something emerging from the clouds about thirty miles from the city. He would have liked to have the zoom capability taken for granted by soldiers to see what the massive object was.
He realized what it was after two thirds of the object had emerged. The giant white sword came cutting through the dense clouds as if it were the judgement of God. By the size of it, Giovanni estimated it to be a cruiser class warship, similar to the one he had been on as a young officer. The two soldiers also had their heads turned towards the falling battleship.
The flash of fission light was so bright it felt as if two hot prongs were being thrust into his eyeballs. Unlike the two soldiers whose eyes were protected by their visors, he knew that his naked eyes would never recover as they seemed to boil in his head. He cupped his eyes with his palms and screamed out in agony. He could smell the blood seeping from his sockets and dripping into his hands.
The nuclear wind hit the pulse glider with such force that it almost felt as if it was flying. Amid his screams and the howling wind, he heard snippets of the conversation between the two soldiers before losing consciousness.
“…the High Chancellor!”
“…fission explosion near the city…”
“…have to get the Pope out! We have to…”
“What’s that? I can’t see…”
“Watch out! It’s coming out of the ground!”
Chapter 23: A First Taste
‘To know your Enemy, you must become your Enemy’ – Sun Tzu
Bongani kept a good distance from the other ships as they swept through space at light speed. The estimated time of arrival was eight minutes. He had shed the small freight vessel and now captained a large merchant ship to which he had applied countless modifications. He had to call off scores of old favours and promise more to old business acquaintances but he knew what he was doing was well worth it, at least if what Terry had promised was true.
He turned his head to look at Terry who was seated on the bridge with full battle gear on. Though Bongani doubted the necessity of the gear for their mission, Terry had insisted since he was the designated commander of the Marine Corps contingent on board.
He turned his head the other way to see David staring at a holograph of the fleet in loose formation. He knew his partner was shy in nature and his tough façade was created and improved during his years working and fighting alongside rough men and women. He promised himself that once this war was won, he would take David and settle down on a small island in the middle of nowhere. The task was so great, however, that he knew that they would probably not survive. The thought of David dying in the cold vacuum of space, a mere speck of dust in a chandelier of stars, was heart wrenchingly painful. He wanted to go over and say something even if it did make him look weak.
Terry was a changed man in the months they had been apart. The melancholy was now deep set in his eyes and face. But there was a new drive to him that was startlingly fresh. He had gained in eloquence that only just smothered the fury behind his words. Terry was still rather thick-witted and stubborn to Bongani, but he could sense a leader in the making. But for now, he was just another subordinate on the retro-fitted Dark Echo.
Though his crew was made up primarily of Afrikans, most of them merchants and tradesmen, there were quite a few Chinese and Atlantic professional military personnel and even a squadron of Pacific Federation Cobra II fighters in the freight dock. The unusual mix of personnel made many people nervous, especially since they had only trained together for a month and some language barriers persisted. Even among the Afrikans, there were quite a few who only spoke Swahili or Creole French, two languages that Bongani had not really mastered.
“ETA seven minutes” said David.
Bongani nodded. The make-shift missile shaft was still untested in combat and the exterior welding to attach the two laser cannons was done in haste. A lot of the extra plating on the ship’s exterior was concentrated on vital parts and the second fusion generator was installed very near the missile silo, making it a very critical point in the overall retro-fit integrity.
Everything could go wrong. The new fleet was mostly made up of non-military trading vessels, most of the crew members were non-military and they had trained next to no time at all together. Some severe design compromises had to be made in the upgrade process of several trading ships.
Bongani shook the worrisome thoughts from his head. The image of his crewmembers came into focus and he read their nervous movements. As citizens of a peaceful, neutral nation, they had never fought in a war. Some of the younger ones almost seemed paralyzed before their respective holographic projections. What could he do to alleviate their anxiety? Should he lie and tell them that victory was assured? Should he tell them the brutal truth that in ten minutes their bodies would probably be reduced to the atom level? He had been captain of the ship for barely a few months and he couldn’t say he really knew the crewmembers despite his attempts. Why would they believe him? Why would they give a damn about anything that comes out of his mouth?
He had been in various tight situations as a smuggler and knew the value of a mentally strong crew. The words, the actions and the attitude of a captain could change everything within a team. The young people who populated the bridge, an odd assortment of traders, merchants, soldiers and even a cleric of one of the many obscure religions in Afrika, wouldn’t stand a chance if things got out of hand. He had to get through to them, somehow.
“Put me through to the crew” he said to his communications officer who fumb
led at the sudden command.
A shifting symbol told him that his voice would be heard at all levels of the ship.
“Crewmembers of Dark Echo, this is your captain” he said, feeling a bit awkward about addressing himself in such a way. “For many of you, this is the first combat situation you’ve ever encountered. For some it will be the last. I’m a soldier, a mercenary, a smuggler, a pirate and now the captain of a ship heading for a historic battle. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of but somewhere along the line I did something right, and am now captaining a fine crew that’s missing one thing: a soul.
“The enemy is a professional fighting force. Victory won’t come easy if it comes at all. But we can’t let this darkness fall on our race. If, as a people, we finally unite under a single banner, it won’t be under tyranny, a tyranny that will rule our beliefs, our lives and our way of living.
“A great man once said; ‘the mistakes of leaders are amplified by the number of people who follow them blindly.’ We are fighting a blinded people that are trying to blindfold each and every one of us. This is the first battle of many to come. Every time you want to curl up and wish away war, remember that we are the last line between blindness and unity. Picture your children brainwashed to worship a false god every day. And then picture them in a world full of freedom and peace. Captain out.”
When he stopped the communication, he saw his crew all staring at him surprised by his speech. David looked at him with affectionate eyes and Terry simply nodded with the slightest smile. The former mercenary could see strength in the eyes of his young team. He sighed his relief; at least they seemed to be convinced by the oration. Why would they trust his words? He had been selfish most of his life, even to the point of taking the lives of others for monetary gain. Now suddenly he was a selfless commander with the welfare of others to consider? Had the events of the prior few months really changed him? He hoped with all sincerity that they had.
“We’re pulling out of light speed” said the navigations officer. “ETA two minutes.”
“The enemy should have detected us by now” said Terry. “We’ve entered their system. Anticipate missile launches as soon as we’re static.”
Bongani nodded grimly. He could feel his heart in his throat.
“Hey” said Terry as he put his hand on Bongani’s shoulder. Bongani looked at him with tense eyes. “Relax. Keep your head cold for this. We need you.”
The holographic display suddenly switched to show the single bright half-circle curve that was the only visible part of the Ewani home planet of Onut. The curve itself was so brilliant that it almost hurt Bongani’s eyes. The bright curve of one of the two moons of Onut was also visible beyond the horizon. Intelligence suggested that the Chinese wormhole station had already been built on the other side with at least one fleet of ships protecting it until surface defences were complete.
“Okay people” said David since Bongani remained mute. “You know the drill. Thrusters at eighty per cent in port direction.”
The holograph showed that eleven other ships had arrived within seconds. The ‘fleet’ was a ridiculous ensemble of seven warships carrying three different insignia and five augmented Afrikan trading vessels. As previously planned, all twelve ships opened their missiles shafts and spat out a host of missiles of thirty different designs. Bongani watched with anticipation as they skimmed the atmosphere of Onut and curved eastward to the day side of the planet. Within minutes, they had disappeared.
The twelve ships went the other way, away from the two moons towards the newly built Chinese wormhole station. That part of the planet was in dusk with the rays of the sun spread thin. The black, disk-shaped station soon came into view with a half dozen enemy warships guarding it.
“Fire three missiles, one nuclear” barked Bongani.
It was at that moment when the enemy ships spotted the fifty or so missiles that they had launched moments earlier. After having used the planet’s gravity to swerve in a semi-circle, the missiles had taken only minutes to cover two thirds of the circumference of the green and brown world.
The enemy ships, already bewildered by the appearance of a fleet seemingly put together from the remnants of other fleets, were at the wrong end of over a hundred missiles pouring in from two directions. Many of the missiles hit home and two particularly large explosions signalled two successful fission missile launches.
Two tiger-shaped enemy cruisers were destroyed in the first volley of missiles, both cracking open as hull integrity was compromised and machines parts, chemicals and burning people spilled out. The remaining cruiser and three destroyers returned fire and started launching shock shields. The Dark Echo was hit by a pulse missile and the shock reverberated in the bridge even though the outer armour had reduced the shock by more than ninety per cent. Bongani felt his body get momentarily heavier as the gravity shield generator increased output in case of a hull breach.
The fleet spread out like a net about to envelope some large fish, making it a more dispersed target. The formation made them vulnerable, however, in case enemy ships decided to make wedge themselves between them. That could easily become a messy situation for the relatively inexperienced crewmembers. They needed to use their superiority in numbers to end the combat swiftly.
As anticipated, the defences of the wormhole station came online and started to shoot out missiles that left brilliant blue traces in the deep black of space. Red laser bolts added even more colour to the fireworks in space.
“We’re in distance to use our pulse cannons” said David.
Bongani nodded. “Take out the station’s laser cannons.”
Four of the eight mega-class pulse cannons were mounted directly above the bridge, another design compromise. As they launched their invisible waves in the vacuum, the thud-thud sound of the cannons going off was easily audible to the crewmembers on the bridge. It almost had a calming effect on Bongani. When the pulses reached the outer shell of the station, blue explosions erupted, throwing clouds of debris into space.
The station’s laser cannons were heavily armoured with multiple layers of interlaced titanium, steel and geratinium. Three pulse cannons shot at it continuously until the repeated shock finally melted and welded shut one of the laser cannon barrels. As expected, the station’s wormhole creator started to light up, flooding the immediate space with a brilliant green light.
“That’s incoming reinforcements” said Terry on seeing a giant wormhole opening up in front of them.
“Deploy drones” ordered Bongani.
The other ships of the fleet must have also given the same order at around the same time as a swarm of hundreds of drones, each one no longer than three meters, flew in a net-like formation towards the open wormhole. The wormhole station and the enemy ships tried frantically to destroy as many as they could but there were just too many.
Three Chinese vessels leapt out of the wormhole at light speed like hungry panthers. But they were more like giant sharks caught in a deadly net as the drones immediately surrounded them. Though the crewmembers were probably aware of the on-going battle, they hadn’t anticipated being surrounded by the deadly tiny unmanned aircraft, each one potentially armed with nuclear weapons.
Bongani knew that the best way to deal with such a situation would have been to flee, regroup and then attack again. The captains of the three new arrivals were either too stupid or too arrogant to run from a rag-tag fleet of ships, even though they were at a severe tactical disadvantage. They countered by launching their own fleet of drones. Chinese drone artificial intelligence, however, was at least two decades behind that of the Pacific Federation drones’ which comprised the majority surrounding the ships. Pacific drones were getting two kills out of every Chinese kill, and were often able to launch their missiles at the ships.
The white flashes from three fission explosions drowned out the green light of the wormhole. Two of the three enemy destroyers had been hit. One of them was losing pressure at such a speed that it almost lo
oked as if it was turning itself inside out.
The three Chinese ships in the rebel fleet started engaging the wormhole station much more intensively as if they were afraid that keeping it operational would invite more enemies. Bongani had only seen the young princeling from a distance and couldn’t say he was very impressed. He hoped the pampered youngster didn’t screw things up in a panic of inexperience.
The dragonship that was being captained by the young prince, however, was leading two black tigerships in a peculiar manoeuvre. Instead of flying abreast to maximize the firepower, the two tigerships followed closely by in such a tight formation that was only possible with hundreds of hours of training, especially given they were travelling at speeds of more than Mach 10. When the nose of the black dragon was only a few miles away from the station, the three ships suddenly dove at a risky angle.
Bongani noticed that everyone on the bridge was looking at the acrobatics of the Chinese ships. He didn’t know whether the enemy ships were not attacking because they were incapacitated or because they were also watching the graceful movements of the three rebel vessels.
The dragonship suddenly changed course and started to ascend at a steep angle almost perpendicular to the station’s bottom part. The station possessed less defences from this angle, giving the three Chinese ships more leeway. They hence changed to a more standard formation with the two tigerships at either side of the dragonship. This time, a swarm of Phoenix fighters emerged from the station and swept downward.
Bongani could see what the three ships were attempting; they were going to ignite the fusion generator that was housed in the lower parts of the station. As if they had read his mind, all three ships shot out their lasers in three continuous beams that met at a single spot exactly in the middle of the black disc shape. The two tigerships started to circle the larger dragonship, making the trio look like a giant laser drill.