E.D.F chronicles - The Krenaran massacre. Page 17

  He paused for a breath as the arrayed crowd nodded in approval. “The Liberty will be at its head, like the dagger that will pierce the heart of the Krenaran battle lines, and we will go on to victory; and to the defeat of the Krenarans!”

  The whole galley rose as one, “to the defeat of the Krenarans!”

  Michael thought to himself; yes the ship is small, it only had a standing crew of 41 people and it is only 140 meters long, but like a 140 meter long rapier it shall be, slicing through the Krenarans with a speed and ferocity that is unmatched.

  That night when the celebrations were all over they slept for the final time before setting off once again; to war.

  Commander Ralavas met them the next morning and asked, “how are you feeling.”

  “Excited, nervous, and even a tiny bit hopeful, it’s a feeling we have not felt in a long time. At last our people may have a chance,” Michael said solemnly.

  “I took the liberty of revamping the stealth abilities on board; you will be detectable to all ships except the Krenarans. We don’t want to shoot you by mistake,” a wry smile fell across the Solarian Commanders features.

  Michael smiled, the irony of what Ralavas had said was not lost on him, the very ability that had plagued the E.D.F was now being used against the Krenarans.

  “Will you be coming with us?” Vargev asked.

  “Unfortunately, I will be staying here; I think this place is going to get very busy in the months to come. You had best go, the signal to get underway will be coming soon, and the Liberty should be with the fleet.”

  “Goodbye Commander; and thank you for all that you have done. You’re people have given a ray of hope to humanity,” Michael said with sincerity.

  “No, thank you,” Ralavas replied nodding graciously. “And I hope one day we will meet again.”

  And with that Michael and Vargev made the long journey through the Omicron repair facility; passing repair bays where other ships were birthed and docking ports where the endless stream of transports picked up and offloaded supplies to the station.

  Finally they made it to the lower repair bay and strode onboard the Liberty. As soon as they stepped onboard they immediately noticed the difference. Clunky Krenaran control panels blackened with ruptures caused by the Krenarans’ onslaught were instead replaced by sleek new customisable touch screen systems.

  Making their way to the elevator; the Automatic doors slowly opened, and as they stepped inside a welcoming sounding female voice greeted them, “destination please.”

  “It’s in English!” They both shouted with relief, laughing.

  “Unknown command, please repeat your request.”

  “Command centre,” Michael replied with a smile.

  The elevator silently whisked them to their destination; presently they arrived and stepped out onto the new command centre; both gasped in shock, oh how it had changed.

  The pilot’s seat remained largely as it had been before, except there were not so many exposed wires; instead they were hidden. New comfortable chairs were arrayed along the perimeter of the oval shaped command centre. And new touch screen displays lined the walls, each with sophisticated lit up keypads. And in the centre of the command area there was a lone chair, the famous command chair.

  A Solarian got up out of the chair and addressed them. “I hereby relinquish command of the Liberty to you; Michael Alexander.”

  Michael nodded, “Thank you, err...”

  “Televis sir,” The Solarian nodded.

  Michael stifled a chuckle, “Televis, I gratefully receive command.”

  Vargev took up a position at the weapons console; now that they were in plain English he was confident he could use them; while Michael took up the command chair, “Okay; let’s get this show on the road.” He said clicking his fingers.

  The Solarians, who were unfamiliar with the gesture, looked at one another quizzically.

  “Bring main power online,” Michael commanded.

  The highly trained Solarian crew quickly responded and with a deep thrumming noise the new Solarian power core blazed into life; lights began to flicker into action all over the ship.

  “Contact Omicron station, and request permission to depart.”

  Suddenly a new holographic viewscreen shimmered into life at the front of the command centre; Michael almost fell off his seat as the face of Ralavas appeared.

  “Sorry did I startle you,” the Commander said with a smile. “You have clearance to depart, Liberty.”

  The holographic viewscreen shimmered back out of existence, just the wall of the command centre remained.

  Now that is seriously cool, Michael thought. He recovered his thoughts and said, “blow docking hatch.”

  The docking hatch on the starboard side of the Liberty blew with a hiss of released air, the short interconnecting walkway slowly retracted inside the Liberty and locked into place. Finally a panel slid over the hatch simultaneously hiding the hatch from view, restoring the outer hull, and keeping the stealth capabilities intact.

  “Main engines at docking speed, port and starboard thrusters at navigator’s discretion,” Michael said.

  The Liberty slowly glided close to the station; navigation lights from the outstretched docking ports and towers illuminated its black and silver hull as it gently drifted past them, the starboard Ionic thrusters lit up in a dazzling electric blue, increasing their brightness temporarily; as the small ship gradually banked away from the station.

  “Rendezvous with the fleet and match formation; bearing 127 elevation 14.”

  With a bright blue blaze of light the Ionic thrusters spun the ship around; its main engines also glowed as they propelled the little ship forward to join the huge Solarian armada now parked outside the station. There it spun around again and took up its position at the head of the fleet, where it silently waited.

  “Jesus; I thought the thrusters would be good but not this good,” Michael said trying to hold onto his seat.

  A tense quiet came over the ship as they awaited the signal to depart. Crewmembers busied themselves performing final systems checks; Michael and Vargev both grew pensive.

  “It is the calm before the storm,” the Russian said almost whispering. He muttered a silent prayer to the motherland.

  They continued silently waiting as if for the starting lights of a race. All 69 ships in perfect wedge formation; there was no movement and barely a sound.

  The holographic viewscreen finally shimmered into life once again showing Ralavas’ features. “Clearance to commence operations has been given; good journey, and good luck.” The viewscreen shimmered out of existence once again.

  In perfect unison the entire formation advanced. Indeed nearly seven hundred battle cruisers, escorts, and frigates, from two dozen facilities across the Solarian border slowly advanced as one into E.O.C.A territory that day.

  On board the Liberty Michael commanded, “green light has been given; increase speed to full sub-light. Signal the fleet to engage plasma drive bearing 120 elevation 9 once we are clear of the station.”

  “That would take us to Delta base,” Vargev said.

  “Exactly; we will rendezvous with the remainder of the fleet there. And then organise the counter offensive.”

  “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  As the fleet accelerated away from the imposing silvery silhouette of the Omicron repair facility; a mass of swirling plasma wakes opened, and the fleet entered plasma drive together in a series of blinding flashes that lit up the entire station.

  They had begun their race to save what was left of humanity.

  Several hours into their trip Michael decided that the excitement he felt about rushing to the aid of his fellow men had given way to hunger. He decided to once again brave the food synthesiser; maybe it now had something reasonably edible to eat.

  He headed to the elevator suddenly stopping short, and half-turned. “Televis, you are in command until I get back.”

  The Solarian officer nodde
d in return, and with that Michael stepped onto the elevator and waited for the doors to close.

  “Mess area,” he said as the elevator complied and whisked him off to his destination.

  Televis; who the hell came up with a name like that, he had a little chuckle to himself as he thought about it.

  At length when Michael arrived at the mess area he could not believe the change the small room had gone through.

  The bare metal table was no more; instead a grand marble one had replaced it. However, it was the food synthesiser that Michael marvelled at the most; now there was a touch screen panel, in both English, and Solarian script, highlighting the different meals on offer. Michael perused the menu; he found there were hundreds of pre-programmed human and Solarian dishes on offer.

  How did they do it? He thought. How did the Solarians get to know so much about us without being detected in the process? I mean they don’t look like us that’s for sure. They were 7 feet tall for heaven’s sake, completely bald, with thin, gangly arms and legs and a Blue-ish tinged skin; moreover, they definitely don’t talk like us either. They spoke with almost an echo of multiple voices all speaking as one.

  Michael wondered if indeed they were telepathic. At once he dismissed the thought and keyed in his choice on the panel; good old steak pie with mashed potato and gravy, one of his old favourites; he was going to enjoy this; sitting down he began to eat.

  The food was very appetising, but somehow it still had a very slight dryness to it, that home cooked meals didn’t. Still, he had to doff his cap to the Solarians for the effort they had put in. After finishing his meal, he surveyed the empty plate.

  “Close but no cigar,” he said to himself, with a slight smile.

  Once he had finished, he returned the crockery to the synthesiser to be reabsorbed. And decided to head back to the command centre; the elevator took him to his destination and he stepped out onto his new nerve centre once again.

  “Any news?” He asked, settling back down into the centre seat once Televis had given way to him.

  “Nothing of note,” the Solarian said. “It’s been rather quiet since you have been gone. Captain Sallus aboard the Faeriath has requested an approximate E.T.A; and the Loganith has developed a problem with its port thrusters. They have decided to drop back to make repairs, however they are confident that it will be fixed and allow them to rejoin the fleet before we arrive at Delta base.”

  “Do they need an escort?”

  “Negative; they are saying it’s only a minor problem, and should be resuming presently.”

  “Good. Once the fighting begins we are going to need all the ships we can lay our hands on.”

  “Quite.”

  “Captain?” Another Solarian spoke up.

  Michael smiled at this since he only held the rank of Lieutenant; however he recognised the Naval custom of calling whoever was in command ‘Captain’, the Solarians must have a similar custom.

  “A small fleet of six enemy Krenaran vessels have just shown up on our long range scanners; should we advise the fleet to change course and intercept?”

  “Are they Stealth ships or Carriers?” Michael asked rather nervously as he mentioned the latter.

  “Unknown at this range sir; however their mass seems to imply they are Stealth ships.”

  “Have they detected us?”

  “Not yet sir; they seem to be heading towards the Malthus system,” the Solarian replied.

  Michael considered this for a moment; that’s a significant detour from our course to Delta base, especially for just six Krenaran ships. Ultimately he conceded they had bigger duties to attend to.

  “Our first priority is that we need to get to Delta base to rendezvous with whatever’s left of the E.D.F fleet; contact the nearest Solarian task force, and transmit their co-ordinates; ask them to head them off before they reach Malthus.”

  “Very good Captain.”

  Michael relaxed in his chair a little, I could get used to this, “how long until we reach Delta base?”

  “Five hours at present speed,” Televis replied.

  The time passed slowly; Michael paced the command centre impatiently; looking over the monitors that lined the perimeter of the bridge. Something’s wrong; it’s too quiet, he thought.

  Finally a Solarian officer broke the silence, “Sir, i’m definitely picking up something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not moving. And it’s big; I think it maybe a collection of ships all tightly packed together.”

  Michael looked at the officer, puzzled; then said, “bring it up on the viewer.”

  The holographic viewscreen shimmered into existence once again. It showed what appeared to be a faint collection of metallic objects far in the distance.

  “Magnify.”

  There as plain as day drifted the blasted and blackened wreckage of dozens of E.D.F Naval vessels. They could make out the shapes of two Danitza class battleships; their once proud primary rail-cannon turrets smashed to pieces.

  There was a Jupiter class assault carrier, the biggest ship in the E.D.F fleet, only four of them existed, and even losing one was a devastating blow for the Navy.

  Two Jefferson class heavy destroyers also drifted, once thought of as a sturdy and capable warship. As well as the remains of a few Washington class heavy cruisers, which were identified by their raised rear sections and angled rail-cannons along their flanks. Dotted about the remains of the larger ships were several Ghandhi class destroyers and Mandela class light cruisers, obviously they were the escort force.

  “How many are there?” Michael whispered.

  “I count 27 vessels in all; of various sizes.”

  Michael simply stared at the holoviewer; the scale of the devastation was hard to comprehend. Once proud vessels now reduced to smashed wrecks, the thought saddened and depressed him in equal measure.

  After a few moments of silent contemplation Vargev suddenly spoke up, “any signs of life; at all?”

  “None,” the Solarian replied solemnly.

  Not a soul had survived it, Michael thought. He silently offered a prayer to all the brave people now lost in that horrendous graveyard. Even Vargev was moved as the holoviewer displayed the broken, blackened, smashed hulls of the various ships, silently drifting. Not a light twinkled, a power conduit crackled, nor even the fiery glow of an intact booster, it was like they were ghosts of what they once were.

  Michael could just make out a single very small shape moving amongst the wreckage; it was barely visible amongst the comparatively enormous hulls of the wrecks.

  “What is that?” He pointed out squinting at the screen.

  The holoviewer zoomed in again.

  There it showed the frozen remains of a mutilated E.D.F Naval officer, obviously he had been blasted out into space during the battle.

  The frozen, yet perfectly preserved body slowly and silently drifted past the hull of a heavy destroyer; it was missing a leg, just reduced to a frozen crimson stump.

  The body slowly rotated to face them; it began to reveal its features to the holoviewer. It’s left cheek; it’s bloodied, cracked, and frozen lips. It’s left eye, frozen open, unblinking.

  It continued to rotate; as it did it revealed its horrific visage. Half of the man’s face had been torn away; showing the inside of his skull, bloodied, crimson and perfectly preserved, mashed pieces of bloodied brain matter and tissue remained inside the corpses frozen head.

  It continued its slow rotation.

  Michael turned away wanting to be sick, “murdering Krenaran bastards.” He muttered over pressed, angry lips.

  Chapter 11 Ghost station

  “Continue on course,” Michael said, wanting to put the awful grisly scene behind him.

  The fleet accelerated again; jumped back into plasma drive and resumed their journey towards Delta base. Two hours later something began to show up on the ships sensors.

  “We’ve just picked up something large and unmoving,” the Solarian sensor operator sa
id.

  Michael turned toward the officer; please don’t let it be another one of those ship graveyards he thought. His mind was still reeling from the sight of the dead Naval officer; it haunted him, and would for many days yet.

  There was a tense silence amongst the staff on the command centre, as the Solarian officer studied his readings. “It has what appears to be some kind of defensive ring around it,” the officer said.

  The news immediately made Michael feel better, as he realised what the officer may have found. He made his way over to the monitor, and decided to see for himself.

  “It’s Delta base,” he almost cried out in jubilation. “We’ve arrived.”

  He quickly walked back over to his chair, and seated himself again. “Signal the fleet to drop out of plasma drive on my order,” he said with authority driven by enthusiasm.

  Immediately the Solarian command staff got to work, hands flew over consoles as crewmen contacted other ships notifying them of the situation; all this within minutes and with consummate skill, the entire command centre buzzed into life.

  “The fleet confirms it is standing by,” Televis said.

  “Major, order alert status, we don’t want any surprises. And Televis signal the fleet to do the same,” Michael shouted out his orders as though he was already a seasoned Captain; despite he had only been in command of the Liberty for a few days. Technically Nikolai out ranked him, however since Michael was much more highly trained in ship based operations the Russian allowed the Naval officer the infraction.

  The command centre darkened noticeably, light from the myriad displays shone out; casting shadows across the oval room. Above every console a red light shone unblinking; bathing the command centre in a dark ruddy glow. The entire room took on a menacing air showing what the Liberty was really designed to do; and that was to remorselessly, and uncaringly destroy absolutely everything in its path.