by Florian Nagy
Chapter 37
The EFS Vigilante lurched forward. Its weapons were ablaze. From inside, the remainder of the crew watched the raging battle. The Skyrrnian fleet was enveloping the last few scraps of what had been the Earth Defense Fleet. Their ships flowed over the jagged remains, with the dreadnaught implanted firmly in the center. The ship was like the pupil of a large malevolent eye, peering closer and closer at its final victim.
To the left and right, the last few of the EDF’s frigates were now blasting all their power to their engines. They had opted to end the battle with a bang because they knew no other outcome awaited them. Defeat was inevitable, but what a show they might give. They flew faster and faster as kamikaze pilots, their engines leaving bright white trails from the overdrive.
A few ships had escaped the scene of battle. Several of them had turned on their heels and flashed away from the conflict. They had escaped, but if Earth fell, then all human colonies would fall. They would be sought out, and if they weren’t caught and made to suffer as prisoners of war they would live horrid existences in constant fear as outlaws on one of the isolated agricultural worlds. Smaller chassis ships had all been pecked down by the Skyrrnian’s strike craft. The larger ships had all been destroyed during the heavy Skyrrnian onslaught.
Darius Targen’s eyes looked over the last handful of ships. They were rushing headfirst into a sea of a million bright lights and twisted hulks set against the deep melancholy of space. A stroboscopic light flashed in his mind. The sheer greatness of the situation wormed itself into his consciousness. The physical chaos and adrenaline high pulsing through his senses seemed to sharpen. It formed into a single image: a blinking red light. It pulsed in and out of consciousness. It became order, it became truth. He soon became aware of a beeping sound. It came from inside his mind at first. It then emanated from all around him.
He then looked at the bridge and took the sight in. His command console was flashing at him.
-Incoming Hyperspace Disruption-
Darius wanted to feel surprised. His mind felt as if he should jolt awake and immediately scramble to digest the new information, yet he was unable to do so. He felt as if he were in a dream. He lazily moved his hand to open the notification. The screen acknowledged him and announced to him that a large hyperspace disturbance had been detected. A fleet of considerable size was approaching.
Darius was almost amused. More ships? Already present was the largest conglomeration of starships that had ever been seen. Ships and ships without end swirled around the physical and mental space of the people still alive. He did not care for more ships. Were there more enemies, to come and multiply the severity of the disaster that was already at comic proportions? Were there cargo ships, were there undiscovered aliens, were there journalists to come and fill history books on the fall of the Human Imperium?!
“No, we can’t take it anymore,” he whispered more to himself that to anyone present in the room. He slid his hand off the control and sat back into his chair.
A haze began to creep over his vision. It formed at the edge of his vision and lingered for a moment. Then it began to move over his view like a dark fog. It slid over his eyes, and he began to feel the reality of the situation slip away. Some of the people around him were talking, but he did not manage to catch any of their words.
A bright haze seemed to shine from behind the enemy armada. The ships moved towards his dwindling gaze like rain coming down on the light’s early dawn.
-Sections A3-B7 of the ship are compromised-
The computer’s voice rang through Darius’ ears with an unearthly echo. He closed his eyes; he wanted to be free of responsibility. The conflict did not even qualify as a war because it had all passed by so quickly. Perhaps it was better that way, because victory was never an option.
Dwight Verne looked up from his console to see the captain slink down into his chair. His eyes were closed, and his mind seemed to be wandering. He stood watching for a moment until vivid colors drew his attention to the view screen.
The colors of the far side of the advancing armada seemed to be warped. A bright light flashed across space, illuminating the view screen in an enthralling luminescence. In the next instant a large hulk hovered majestically a few kilometers off to the side of the Skyrrnian fleet. As soon as his eyes registered the first appearance, a cascade of flashes erupted from its side, and rigid forms materialized in a large assembly around the centerpiece.
As soon as the last hulks had flown in, the entire collective started moving forward. The ships were a light-tan color, with black shades trimming their front and sides in straight, angular lines. The ships were thin, tall, and long. The lower halves of their capital vessels were arrayed with odd, protruding, probe-like structures. The upper halves displayed several symmetric compartments protruding from the surface of the ship. They extended about twice as far up as they did across. Along their lengths, which were hidden mostly behind them, and of which Verne could catch only glimpses, there were several doors, or latches, that seemed to all be tightly shut.
Their hulls were matte; they fit in with the gloom of space around them. The black linings, which trimmed the compartments and modules on each ship, further left a somber impression. The ships flew in close formation, their sides parallel, and they moved as if in rank. Most of the ships were very large, about the size of an Imperial supercarrier. There were several smaller ships above and below the assembly, giving the formation a conic shape. In the middle of the line was the flagship. It was much larger than the other vessels and shaped quite differently. It was wide, even at its front section. Its forward section was shaped like a triangular prism on its side, the long sharp side facing outwards. Its body stood behind it, an immense rounded prism. To its left and right were two branches half as large as the ship itself, which jutted out and forward, giving the ship a three-pronged head.
Verne looked down at his console quickly and adjusted the ship’s sensors. He enlarged the image to zoom in on the fleet itself. At the rear of the flagship stood a large cubic structure that extended itself above the surface of the ship. It carried immense engines that flared across the entire length of the ship’s stern.
Verne looked over the armada and guessed that there were surely tens of ships. They were picking up speed and rushing into the sprawl of the battle. Blue tints seemed to form around the ships. Their probe-like structures seemed to come alive, like multi-limbed bugs, extending their dozen feelers out before themselves in odd, jerking motions. They bent and straightened out, and then they rested in their positions.
The space between the two groups of ships was rapidly closing in. The flagship was clearly larger than the Skyrrnian dreadnaught. The Skyrrnian ships seemed to be frozen for a moment, before urgently shrinking back and regrouping in a tight formation. They had been significantly separated, like a cloud lingering in the air. They now swirled and drifted closely together in a new makeshift formation.
A few Imperial frigates had not yet collided with their targets, and they now reeled back and retreated from the focal point. The Vigilante followed suit. Verne could not see them anymore, but a display from the computer showed that eight frigate chassis vessels and five large strike corvettes remained. They regrouped a short way off from the battle, tense with anticipation.
The foreign fleet continued to advance, its presence sucking in the light from around it. It moved like a cold hand with probing fingers into the midst of the battle. It had separated the combatants, who now drifted apart, into two loose camps. Its delta formation moved until it had the Skyrrnians off one of its sides, and the Imperium on the other. The flagship’s engines were now idle, and it seemed to breathe without moving. Its jagged form seemed to observe its surroundings. It stood unmoving, as a challenge to all who gazed upon it. It had separated and split the battle and sent each group to its side like a strong wind parting water.
It now rested, brooding over the deeds done. Its companions stood close-by like a unified com
pany. Their hulls seemed almost gray in the darkness. Time passed by, but Verne could not quantify it. All minds were poised on the new assembly of ships. Several moments or perhaps minutes elapsed. A blue light began to flash from the ship’s screen. The ship was receiving a transmission.