Chapter 59
Emlenor System
Thalyssian Union
24 Lukranel, Crying Moon 253
Harric Veron stood on the bridge of the Choir of the Cosmic Void and looked over the holoprojector in the center that showed the fleet under his command. Never before had he commanded so many vessels.
There were over five hundred ships hanging in space one jump from the border with the Hyperion Empire. Each carried the typical armaments of the Thalyssian Union, muonic batteries along with magnetic cannons and neutron beam emitters. While the ships were overall smaller than their Hyperion counterparts, the sheer number of them made them more than a match for any of the fleets the humans could muster.
Three battleships, one of which was his flagship and individually with enough firepower to level a planet. Seven carriers, each loaded several hundred drones that could be remotely controlled. Ninety five destroyers with their own muonic batteries for maximum shield disruption. One hundred and fifty six frigates for point defense against the Hyperions’ missiles as well as their sheer number of magnetic cannons. Finally, two hundred and forty corvettes, which were small and agile enough to dance among the Hyperion forces with ease. All come together to cut a swath to the heart of the Hyperion Empire.
Harric couldn’t help but feel pride surging through him as he gazed at the sea of icons. As a Ranger General, he served through many wars. Never had he seen so many of his own ships arranged in one spot. The majesty of them was something to behold. They glimmered in the light of the nearby blue supergiant star, reflecting off the infused organic crystal that comprised their hull. Smooth curves at the front gave way to geodesic midsection before returning to the elegance at the rear.
“Ranger General, communications.” The elf speaking was young enough he had never served in battle before. Most of the crew was. “Message incoming from Mythal Saenora. For your eyes only.”
“Very well. I shall take it in my ready room.”
Harric took carefully measured steps through the pristine bridge and through the circular door to his private chamber. As he approached, it recognized his presence, and the crystal rotated out of position to allow him through. The creaking behind him told him they shut just after he crossed the threshold.
As he entered, small bulbs in the walls swelled with light, blossoming to twice their original size and filling the room with their cool white color. In the center of the room was a wooden desk carved as if it was melted into the ship itself. Behind it was a high back chair, threaded filigree, running along its sides in bright purple
Harric sat in the chair, pressing the button and understand which brought the holo projector to life. Appearing in the space above the desk was the face of the Custodian. Harric saluted at once, bringing the back of his left hand to his forehead with the fingers facing to his right. Custodian Naynn did not return it. This, while not a requirement, did bring a tinge of annoyance to Harric’s chest.
“Ranger General, you are clear to engage” said the Custodian. “Proceed to Strike Point Alpha and destroy all defensive placements. Do as little harm to civilian areas as possible and target only military installations.”
Harric resisted the urge to scowl. He felt there was no point in attacking if they were not going to strike fear into the hearts of their enemy. The Hyperions did not show mercy when they attacked. They deserved whatever came to them.
“As you command, Custodian.” Harric saluted briefly again. “The planet shall soon come under our rule. Afterwards, shall we move on to Strike Point Beta?”
“Correct, Ranger General. Though I do remind you, do not take any unnecessary risks. Any loss of life is an atrocity, and I do not wish to see my people unduly hurt.”
“I will perform my duty to ensure as many Thalyssians as people make it back alive.”
“See that you do,” Naynn replied, scowling. “May the forest provide you a clear path to victory.”
The image of Naynn disappeared before Harric had a chance to reply. He sat there, staring at the empty space for several seconds. A frown creased his forehead. It was no secret the two of them did not get along, but they at least should have had a mutual respect for one another. The insinuation he would put Thalyssians in undue danger…
Before he had a chance to brood much longer on the matter, a new image appeared above his desk. No notice came before the transmission started. This one could not be more different from that of Custodian Naynn, though it was not entirely unexpected. The image that materialized before him was a metallic orb that, despite having no indication of a mouth or any other device to produce sound, spoke to him.
“What is your status, Harric?” the orb asked, its voice shrill and grating. It took all of Harric’s willpower to not cringe at the sound of it.
“Nergal, always a pleasure to hear from you. The fleet is about to jump to the Ceirus System.” Harric folded his hands in front of him. “If the Druthagar forces are preparing to attack the Draconis System as you indicated before, the Hyperions will face defeat within a few months.”
“The Druthagar will attack, as will another.” Harric swore he heard something akin to glee in the machine’s voice. But as soon as he tried to listen for it again, it disappeared. “Prepare yourself at Ceirus. The Hyperion resistance will be stronger than you are anticipating. Take the necessary precautions, and you will emerge with minimal loss.”
“You sound like our accursed Custodian.” Harric frowned and tapped his fingers against the desk’s surface. “Everyone here knows the risk of this mission. They know what’s at stake.”
“You will need all of the strength you can muster in the coming battles. There is no point in needlessly wasting lives if it can be avoided.”
“Fine, fine.” Harric waved his hand dismissively. The orb, Nergal, or whatever it wanted to call itself, grew tiring quickly. “I will do what I can to make sure as many of my people as possible make it through. I appreciate the warning. Is there anything else you required?”
“Not at this moment, Ranger General,” the orb said. “Though I do remind you to remember to whom you are speaking.”
Just as with the Custodian, the link cut off without warning. Harric sighed and shook his head. One day, he would be the one in charge. And all those who treated him like dirt would face his wrath.
#
HMV Star’s Eclipse
Deep Space
24 March 3303
Legate Kasen Morgan looked over the tactical board as they sat in deep space en route to Stariek. They were only one jump out from linking up with the Seventh Fleet’s flagship at Vertyn, the HMV Reckoning. So far there had been nothing that had gone wrong. Each time they had to stop and cool down their Harrington Drive, however, was another time for someone or something to ambush them. Luckily, with their state of the art antimatter reactor, these periods of downtime were considerably fewer and farther between than they would’ve been on a ship using an older fusion reactor. Not mentioning the Star’s Eclipse was one of the largest, most powerful ships in the Hyperion navy. Anyone who tried to attack it was either foolish, stupid, or both. Still, better to keep an eye on the area each time they stopped, just in case.
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Morgan was the tallest officer on the bridge, standing nearly two meters tall. Combined with his wide frame, which was mostly muscle, he effortlessly presented himself as an intimidating force. All the better. The more intimidated the enlisted ratings were, as well as the officers beneath him, the better they would do their duty to society.
Around the bridge, enlisted ratings and junior officers were checking their consoles, pulling reports, and quietly talking amongst themselves as they went about their duties. It was a fairly large room. Definitely the largest in the entire navy given its status of being the standard mode of transportation for the Emperor. A viewscreen at one end revealed an area of space empty save for the thousands of stars many light years away. In the center was a raised platform for the command staff such as himself and his executive officer. Surrounding this sat the primary stations for tactical operations, navigation, communications, sensors, and engineering.
“Tactical, any signs of contacts in a light year radius?” he asked, his voice booming through the bridge. One good thing about growing up helping his family on shrimping boats back on New Louisiana sailing rough seas was he didn’t need to struggle to make his voice heard. The question, however, was redundant, as he was confident he would have been made aware of any enemies without needing to ask it.
“Negative, sir,” the tactical officer, Lieutenant Ran Hyon-Ju replied. Her smooth black hair was tied into a neat bun on top of her head per regulations. She stared at the console in front of her with an intensity unlike any other officer Morgan knew. “Clear board.”
“Excellent.”
He glanced towards the back of the room, where the Emperor sat in his throne. Their lord hardly moved during the day, keeping an eye on the day to day running of the Star’s Eclipse. The only times he seemed even alive were when he retired to his cabin at the back of the bridge either for meals or to sleep for the night. While Morgan was sure he did everything by the book, part of him couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the Emperor’s presence. There had been many times in Morgan’s career where political commissars were assigned to the same ship as himself. He was used to the feeling of being watched. But the fact it was the Emperor made it that much more nerve-wracking even when he knew he was doing nothing wrong. Not to mention the two robed robotic guards that stood to either side of him.
Taking a deep breath, he returned his attention to the front of the bridge.
“Navigation, what is the status of our Harrington Drive?”
“Fully cooled down and ready for our next jump, Legate,” said Lieutenant Jules Gallois. The man had a scar across one cheek from an accident Morgan never bothered to learn. He sat upright in his chair, perhaps a little too rigidly, as he ran through various panels on his console. “Coordinates to the Draconis System have been plotted. Awaiting your command for final jump, sir.”
“Very good.” Morgan stood and strolled towards the edge of the platform then looked back at General Elin Reichwein, his executive officer. She sat impassively in her seat, staring down at her own console to go through the various reports from around the enormous ship. “General, any last minute notices before we make the final jump?”
“None, sir.” She looked up at him, her dark brown, nearly black, eyes staring at him like a tiger preparing to pounce. “Everything is showing green.”
“Excellent.” Morgan turned to Gallois. “Navigation, activate Harrington Drive.”
The order was carried out at once. A building hum ran through the deck of the ship and into Morgan’s feet as the antimatter reactor powered the powerful wormhole generator. He stared directly ahead and out the viewport. The primary command bridge was located just fore of the two massive wings that formed the carrier’s hangar complements. This allowed him an impressive view of the swirling vortex as it formed above the jet black plating. Though many Harrington Drive activations resulted in a multicolored wormhole, the one before him was mostly black and gray, bending the light around it like a black hole. Such was the power required to form a tunnel large enough for the massive carrier to plunge through.
“Wormhole stable,” called out Gallois.
“Take us through,” Morgan said.
The ship lurched forward towards the vortex and dove in. As it crossed the threshold, a brief rumble ran through the plating before it went still again. For a moment, there was nothing but a black void outside the ship. Not even stars were visible. The ability to look and see absolutely emptiness was a wonder that would never cease to amaze Morgan.
Then everything returned. Gone, though, was the empty part of space they had occupied before. Now, they found themselves in a hub of activity. Ships from large freights to small transports to the frigates and cruisers making up the Seventh Fleet hung in space above a blue and green planet. Sparkling in orbit was Space Station Vertyn, its modular cubes the centerpiece of the exhibit.
“Communications, send my regards to Legate Zephyr and request a vidlink.”
Morgan strode back to his command chair, sitting down in it. The metal creaked under him. Within a few moments, the console in front of him flared to life and revealed the unsmiling face of Legate Zephyr. His chestnut hair turned slightly gray from the seven years of war. He saluted as he came into view, and Morgan returned it with his right hand to his left chest.
“Legate Zephyr, a pleasure to see you again,” Morgan said.
“Likewise, Morgan.” Zephyr’s gaze flicked to look behind Morgan to where the Emperor sat for half a second before returning to Morgan. “I wish I had received more advance notice of your arrival so I could ensure the proper reception of your magnificent ship. It’s not often one sees the Star’s Eclipse this far from Hyperia.”
“Yes, it’s nice to get out of the Core and into the Expanse.” Morgan waved a hand dismissively. “But let’s get down to business. I’m transmitting orders from Legate Habricht detailing a change in command.”
Zephyr said nothing, but the scowl on his face, combined with the way his hand clutched the arm of his chair, told Morgan everything he needed to know about the man’s feelings on the statement. With a thought, Morgan sent the orders given by Habricht to Zephyr. If possible, the man’s scowl deepened.
“For the duration of the Star’s Eclipse remains in the vicinity of Space Station Vertyn, I am to assume command of the Seventh Fleet. You are to transfer control of the fleet’s tactical network to my bridge immediately.”
“Very well,” Zephyr ground out. A moment later, Morgan received confirmation of the change from his tactical officer. “What are your orders, sir?”
“Unchanged from what you have last ordered, Legate.” Zephyr seemed surprised at the statement. Morgan sighed and gave a fraction of a shake of his head. “I am not here to step on any toes. My primary mission is to ensure the safety of our Emperor while he visits the station. That means your primary mission is the same. But that doesn’t mean you need to change whatever you were doing, other than devoting a contingent of ships to protect our lord.”
“Well, I admit I am shocked.” Zephyr inclined his head. “Your reputation precedes you, Unbroken Standard. With your presence here, I doubt any of our enemies would dare strike us. Any who are foolish or brave enough to do so will be dealt with swiftly.”
Morgan resisted the urge to shake his head and scowl at the use of the title. It brought bad luck. Just because he hadn’t lost a battle yet didn’t mean he was invincible. And he did not want this to be the time it was put to the test.
“See that they are,” Morgan said instead. “The Emperor will be transferred to the station at precisely zero six hundred hours tomorrow. Ensure flight lanes are clear from our ship to the station and that there are no threats. Otherwise, you will have failed society and suffer the consequences.”
“Of course, sir.” Zephyr bowed his head and brought his right hand to his left clavicle in a salute. “It is my honor to serve the Emperor however I can.”
“Indeed it is an honor. I will alert you if anything changes, Legate. Dismissed.” Without another word, Morgan cut the link. “Navigation, bring us on a course to a position within fifty kilometers of the station and hold a stationary orbit relative to it.”
“Yes, sir,” said Gallois. The order was carried out without fanfare.
Once they were under way, Morgan relaxed slightly. He stood and slowly approached the Emperor, taking care to ensure each of his strides were the same length. When one walked up to their supreme leader, certain protocols needed to be followed. As he neared two meters, he knelt and bowed his head.
“My lord, is there anything you require at this time?” Morgan asked, keeping his eyes on the floor.
“For you to stop groveling for starters.” The Emperor’s voice was soft but cut like steel. Though Morgan knew his body tensed in surprise at the words, he tried to not let it show too much in his stance. “You’re one of the premier legates in our military. We have known each other for over a decade. Surely, we are beyond this.”
“Protocol dictates…” Morgan started, thinking back to all his training at the Imperial Academy.
“And who decides on the protocol?”
The Emperor’s footsteps echoed around him. Morgan continued staring at the ground. His teacher in his History and Statecraft class had stated the customs were created at the onset of the Empire, when Alan Rezal took over and rescued the failing Praesidium Union. As far as he knew, they hadn’t changed since then.
“I do.” The Emperor must have sensed Morgan’s hesitation. His footsteps stopped. “As such, I say you do not kneel or grovel before me. Now, stand up look me in the eye.”
Morgan slowly raised his head to look at the mask of the Emperor staring down at him. A chill ran down his back. The robed guards hadn’t moved from their positions on either side of the makeshift throne.
He stood, rising to his full two meter height and standing a good head over the Emperor. This close, he hadn’t realized how much taller he was than the ruler of the largest empire humans had ever created. Morgan tried to remember if that was how it was with the last Emperor. After so much time, it was hard to remember. He hadn’t spent much time with the man’s father anyway, given he hadn’t risen to his current position yet.
“We’re friends.” The Emperor reached up and placed a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Remember that.”
The Emperor returned to his throne without another word.