Universe in Flames – Ultimate 10 Book Box Set: An Epic Space Opera Adventure

by Christian Kallias

  “Good, we need to jump the second these ships are destroyed. So once all that’s done, haul-ass and rejoin your carriers at maximum burn.”

  “Roger that.”

  Sarah and Fillio rejoined Daniel’s wing. They were entering firing range of the first JIF ship.

  “Switch your lasers to new settings, secondary fire options.”

  “Roger,” both Fillio and Sarah chirped, almost in perfect unison.

  “Entering firing range. Fire at will!” ordered Daniel.

  All three ships and escort fired their lasers at the first Jump Interdiction Field Class ship in unison. The result was nothing less than spectacular. Each and every laser passed through the shields as if they weren’t there anymore, slightly illuminating the points of entry. Pieces of armor and debris started flying like dust amid the laser volleys. It took less than twenty seconds to destroy the first JIF ship, even though its armor was quite strong.

  “Wow,” Sarah murmured, dazed at the sight of the ship exploding into a million pieces.

  “I second that,” Fillio added joyfully.

  “Alright, girls, no time to lose. Let’s dispatch the other two. Split forces so we can be done sooner.”

  Sarah and Fillio took the first target, accompanied by three more ships from Alpha Wing. Daniel and the rest of the wing went after the second target. The newly loaded settings on their starfighters cut the ships to pieces with ease.

  “Great job, everyone. Now back to your ships at max burn. We gotta jump out of here.”

  “Chase, mission accomplished; returning to base. What’s next?”

  “Daniel, go secure.”

  “Done. What is it?”

  “We have a spy.”

  “We know that.”

  “Yes, but I suspect it’s within the fleet. Perhaps even someone close to us.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, did you get the distress call from the Damocles Station?”

  “Sure. It was on an open channel, wasn’t it?”

  “Encrypted for Alliance only, but yes. Right after that, all the Zarlacks jumped.”

  “I thought that was because we were finally kicking their asses.”

  “No, the timing is more than suspicious. I’m pretty sure they jumped towards the Damocles Station so they can make sure we don’t get whatever tech is awaiting us there.”

  “New tech?”

  “Yes, stuff we cannot afford to let fall into the hands of Argos. In fact, we can’t even let it be destroyed. This could be the key to winning this war; you saw firsthand how easily you were able to dispatch those JIFs.”

  “Yeah, that was like magic.”

  “Imagine this installed on a grander scale onboard our ships.”

  “Yeah, I see your point. You’re probably right. Damocles is Argos’ next stop, then.”

  “We cannot let him destroy, or worse, steal those schematics!”

  “I hear you. We’re all onboard.”

  “Good, jumping the fleet now.”

  Chase sent the jump slave request to every ship in the fleet. Once he got all of them confirmed and synced to the Hope, he entered the coordinates for Damocles-3 and opened the hyperspace corridor.

  Onboard the Kollassi, Argos was looking at the hyperspace stream of horizontal light comfortably from his throne. He hesitated over having a go at his newly cloned Kyrian snake, ultimately deciding against it. The next hour would probably determine whether or not his plan would come to fruition. It had to. No matter what happened, he had to deliver that blow to Chase’s heart that would crush him from within. The hero needed to fall. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to deal with his brother’s bravado.

  Just like when we were kids, Argos reflected. He was always the bull-headed, nauseatingly optimistic Samaritan.

  That memory sent a shiver down Argos’ spine. This time was long gone. We are sitting at opposite extremes of the spectrum now. Part of him longed for the time when they were playful siblings, and life seemed bliss. That thought alone almost made Argos change his mind about the snake. He grabbed the handle of the jar’s lid and lifted it just enough to see a pair of glowing eyes in the dark, followed by a strong hiss. He put the lid back down and heard a second muffled hiss.

  “You’ll get some flesh time later,” he murmured out loud.

  The problem with Kyrian snakes was they were extremely rare and highly difficult to obtain; the only reason why Argos resorted to cloning. But the poison was an incredibly potent drug, were one to survive the bite. The Dragonmen of the once beautiful planet Kyria, destroyed long ago, had been very selective about to whom they gave them. Argos’ initial request to acquire one had been turned down. He had to go to great lengths to obtain another one from a different source.

  Of course the drug had been synthesized for a long while. Millions of junkies bought it every day, all over Obsidian territory. But in its refined, synthesized form, the drug potency was lowered and its addictiveness multiplied. Like every drug, it was manufactured for profits or control. Cloned snakes weren’t cheap by any means, but cheaper and easier than requesting a new snake. And Argos knew he was much less in control when the poison ran through his veins… much more likely to kill the beast during bouts of anger, just like he had a few hours before.

  He then remembered how much of a beating he’d received from their father, after he’d discovered that Argos was doing drugs. This was long before he’d been introduced to the deliciously life-threatening pain mixed with ecstasy that Kyrian snake’s poison brought to his life. When he first used Raintox and got caught, the beating he received was forever marked in his mind. He was fifteen. It wasn’t the pain that bothered him, but Argos’ instinctual aversion to obeying orders of any kind. To a certain extent, he knew he shared that, at least partially, with his brother Laiyos.

  What dumb-ass started calling him “Chase,” he wondered?

  A passing thought interrupted his painful drive through memory lane. He had to check something before they exited hyperspace. He opened a channel, and one of his Zarlack officers answered.

  “Have you made the necessary modification to my ship?”

  “Yes, Master. The Dark Star can now fully cloak for about thirty minutes.”

  “Very good. Anything I should know?”

  “Just that if you stay cloaked for more than ten minutes, you’ll have to do without shields temporarily.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. Thank you.”

  “It’s an honor to serve, my Master.”

  Argos flicked the holo-conversation away. Such a dumb, spineless race these reptilian Zarlacks were, but they served their purpose. For the time being. Once their former masters reclaimed the universe that was once theirs, things would get back to how they should’ve been all along. Today was the day Argos would speed that future day along.

  28

  Spiros heard the long-range detection alarm and braced for what was coming, but not before one last check on all systems. Everything was in the green, shields were at one hundred twenty percent capacity, and he had his fingers placed on the firing controls, ready to open fire on the Zarlack fleet.

  “Let’s just make sure it’s not the Alliance jumping in,” he murmured to himself. “After almost ninety years of service to the Alliance, today is not the day I want a blemish on my file.” He chuckled.

  A hyperspace window opened just outside of weapon’s range, giving him time to confirm that indeed the ships were Zarlacks—quite the fleet too. While he had no doubt that the Damocles-3 would be able to give them pause, he wouldn’t be able to get rid of all of them on his own. But he wouldn’t have to. Soon Captain Athanatos would come to the rescue. All he had to do was make sure that the station wasn’t destroyed and his work wasn’t captured.

  It would probably take years for them to crack his encryption—unless of course they took him with it, in which case they might be smart enough to try his DNA against the encryption, a decision that would unlock it in no t
ime. But Spiros would destroy everything from the ground up rather than hand it to an enemy.

  I really have to stop thinking about worst-case scenarios, he thought.

  Some of the ships entered firing range. That was Spiros’ cue. He selected the ship that seemed to have suffered the most damage in its previous battle with the Alliance fleet and targeted it. He diverted all power to just one of his last-minute enhancements, a concentrated stream of energy, and fired.

  The purple stream of concentrated laser fire tore a hole in the target ship and it exploded.

  “Welcome to Damocles, bitches, it’s payback time!”

  The Zarlack armada responded in kind, firing at will at the station. The shields were holding pretty well, but he would have to get rid of a few more ships or they might be in for the long haul. He activated all laser turrets to concentrate their fire on the next ship on his list of weakened targets, and once its shields were low enough, he fired another shot of his main guns. Again, the purple burst of energy pierced its target, though it did not explode. It did, however, cripple the ship. And that was more than enough for Spiros to get to the next target, when he received an incoming transmission.

  “This is Argos to the engineer currently firing at my troops.”

  Spiros grinned. “I have a sure fire way for you to not receive any more damage: get the fuck out of my space!”

  “Your space?” Argos laughed. “Alright, let’s just say it is your space for the moment. But that won’t last long and you know it.”

  “Try me, asshole!”

  “I’ll forgo the name calling for now, as I have a proposition for you.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Very well, it’s your funeral.”

  The communications turned off and one of the biggest ships in the armada fired a very powerful shot at the station. The shields held but the entire station shook.

  “I know where you are now,” Spiros called out loud. “See if you like my funeral arrangements.”

  He targeted the behemoth Zarlack ship and fired everything he had. After a minute of firing main weapons, and turret laser fire, and even a few torpedoes, he saw that the impact on its shields had been only twenty percent, while the station had lost more than that in the same amount of time.

  “Alright, not the right target to focus my limited energy on… obviously.”

  He changed his targeting priorities and resumed attacking smaller ships in order of the more damaged to the less, now completely ignoring the massive ship which had already almost recovered its shields to full capacity.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t have the time to install my new guns,” Spiros said defiantly, clearly unaware he was speaking to himself. But he couldn’t help but worry about the Alliance and the fact that his shields were already down to fifty percent.

  But as if to answer his wishes, multiple ships jumped out of hyperspace just behind Argos’ armada. They lost no time engaging them, reducing the amount of firepower Damocles-3 had to deal with. The newly arrived fleet contained several Alliance ships, including one which he was unfamiliar with, but, from the sensor data he was receiving, seemed to be the most powerful of them all, and by a large margin.

  The EAD Hope. That figures why it was Chase who had picked up the call.

  Spiros recognized the Destiny amongst the other ships and wondered if it was still being captained by his friend and pupil Adonis Saroudis, a resident star from his years teaching at the academy. He was a smart and studious kid, one Spiros never doubted, even back then, would be given his own command. Attentive and always asking the right questions. Mind snapping back to the present, he then saw that the fleet also had Droxian ships and they were fighting alongside the Alliance.

  “I never thought the Droxians would ally with anybody, but these are desperate times, I guess.”

  He sank into the nearest chair, right after setting firing controls to fully automatic, making sure the Droxians were treated as allies, and exhaled deeply, his stress level lowering on the spot.

  “Reinforcements are here. Now it’s time to enjoy the show and be ready for pick up any time soon.”

  Chase addressed the fleet as soon as they exited hyperspace.

  “Listen up, everyone, we need to deal with the Zarlack fleet, but most importantly, we need to get a hold of the schematics and rescue scientist Spiros Malayianis from the Damocles-3 station. This is a top priority, so we cannot let the station fall until that part of the mission is accomplished. Protect the station with your ships and lives if you have to.”

  He opened a channel to Daniel.

  “Dan, you and Sarah need to head to the station and locate Spiros. Make sure you have his research and come back onboard the Hope when you’re done.”

  “Acknowledged. How do we board?”

  “Contact Spiros once you’re near the shields so he can drop them around the landing bays long enough for you two to land on Damocles.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Chase. Will report once the mission is accomplished.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Same to you, Captain,” Daniel said cheerfully, enjoying his friend’s acting title.

  Chase didn’t like the idea of sitting this one out, but it was vital for him to command this fleet and make sure he did everything he needed to prevent the Damocles Station from being destroyed before they got their hand on Spiros and his precious data.

  With most of his crew now back on their feet and the forces at play rightly balanced, he could, however, take the time to test a F-147. He itched to see what the craft could do, and he was confident he could still command the fleet and dogfight at the same time. So without a shadow of hesitation, he stuck the neuronal interface devices to his temple and powered up a StarFury in reserve onboard the Destiny.

  The StarFury was mind-blowing, it flew like a dream, and he enjoyed his first engagement with a Zarlack fighter—even though it didn’t end up lasting very long after he deployed his drones. The tactical advantages were undeniable. He blew his first prey out of the sky with such ease he almost missed the thrill of the challenge. Then he brought his fighter about and decided to see what the StarFury could do against an entire enemy squadron.

  Let’s even the odds a little, shall we?

  He hit his afterburners and destroyed his first targeted enemy on the first pass, letting them pursue on purpose. He flew evasively, but not too much. He wanted to test the shields next. After a few seconds of letting them pound his aft shields down to forty percent, he punched in his favorite command for such a situation, Theta-4. The ship killed the engines and engaged reverse thrusters to maximum while seven Zarlack ships flew in front of him like shooting stars.

  He lined up his first target and rained deadly laser fire on its aft shields just long enough to enjoy the moment before it exploded in a fiery display. He then engaged the next two targets—dispatching one with two missiles up its tail pipe, and finishing off the second with precise and relentless laser fire.

  The thrill was coming back, and oh boy it felt good to pilot a starfighter again.

  Sure he loved the manual feel of the stick, but he didn’t miss the old days. He always had the simulator for that anyway. Nothing could beat the high this perfectly synced neuronal interface was bringing. He acquired the last enemy craft in this squadron and picked them off, one by one, by perfectly lining laser fire and anticipating their every move. Once the last one exploded, he looked at his radar and located another incoming squadron.

  He checked the status of the fight and saw that the Hope was doing well on his automatic scripted commands. It had destroyed one Zarlack destroyer and was giving another one hell. He had programmed it to alert him whenever the Hope’s shields reached fifty percent, but from his brief analysis of the sensor data, he could see that this was unlikely to happen for the time being.

  He could try something different now with the next incoming squadron. He decided to use one of his drones as a shielded torpedo and sent it in the center of the tightl
y formed squadron, detonating it without a thought. The resulting explosion vaporized the entire squadron on the spot. He knew full well that this was wasting ordnance, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed to know if that would work and it did beyond his expectations.

  One check on his scope told him that Daniel and Sarah, covered by the rest of both Destiny’s and Hope’s Alpha Squadrons, were arriving at their destination and soon they would board the Damocles Station.

  But despite the all-around good news, he wondered what Argos would think of next. He had to have something planned. He had beaten them at every turn and Chase saw no reason why this time would be any different.

  A salvo of laser fire on his starboard as well as the buzz of a missile lock brought Chase’s mind back to the fight. A Zarlack frigate had decided that he was doing too much damage to their starfighter wings.

  Chase reconfigured his remaining drones for maximum firepower and a spinning pattern, then he engaged the frigate and fired at max power, redistributing the power on the fly each and every other second, lowering his shield to achieve maximum firepower on the frigate’s shields and boosting them back up when the incoming fire was becoming too focused and more difficult to evade. Readjusting power levels with his mind really opened new options and definitely boosted efficiency.

  Once the frigate’s frontal shield reached twenty percent, he locked two missiles and a torpedo and fired them all at once. The faster missiles drained the shields completely as the torpedo tore through and exploded in front of the ship. It stopped firing, its weapons disabled. Another ten seconds of pounding laser fire from both his ship and drones did the job and the vessel exploded out in space with a bright flash and a resounding bang that shook the StarFury at its close range.

  Then Chase’s ship blew up.

  The broken link shook Chase to the core and he opened his eyes, clearly disoriented from losing the neuronal link with his StarFury.