E.D.F chronicles - The Krenaran massacre. Read online

  Michael gave the nod, “drop out of plasma drive.”

  Together; the Liberty and the entire fleet dropped out of plasma drive in a huge flash, lighting up the surrounding space.

  “Bring up the viewer.”

  The holographic viewscreen shimmered into life once again. Clearly depicting the enormous form of Delta base; it had changed much from when Michael had last seen it, it looked broken, badly damaged. The outer defence perimeter was still standing, although barely, huge breaches were clearly evident; rents were torn across its surface, blackened craters smashed into its hull. Its once proud rail-cannons that had kept the station and its occupants safe for so long were now merely ruins, the turrets blasted apart with horrifying power. Some gave off a fiery glow, still ablaze; indicating a recent attack. Here and there explosions sent out great plumes of flame, which lit up parts of its blasted surface as the munitions within succumbed to the heat.

  Some of the inner laser towers were still operable on the base itself, though many looked like blasted blackened craters torn deep through the hull, where Krenaran weapons had silenced them in strafing runs.

  Great tears and rents ripped across the surface, where particle cannons had done their work. They looked like great open wounds, and in some, flames continued to lick out into the blackness of space as uncontrolled fires continued to rage.

  Michael gazed at the devastation before him, not really believing his own eyes. “Who could do this to Delta base?” His voice cracked with emotion. “It’s one of the most heavily defended facilities in E.O.C.A territory.”

  Vargev shook his head, not really believing the scene either.

  “Life signs, tell me there are some life signs,” Michael needed some sort of confirmation, a hint of anger welled up at what he was watching.

  His mind was running through a myriad of thoughts all at once; he hoped and prayed Jana and Theo were still alive, however looking at the scale of the devastation in front of him, his heart sank.

  “Some, isolated pockets, but faint,” a Solarian said.

  This news made Michael feel slightly better, but not much, they could still be alive over there, “any power on board, environmental systems?” he asked, the urgency growing in his voice.

  “Only on some decks.”

  “What about docking facilities, are we able to dock with it?”

  “Negative, the docking ports are all damaged beyond repair.”

  Figures; Michael thought. The Krenarans didn’t want anyone escaping; wanted them all on-board like a tin of sardines to take pot shots at. He grew angrier, studying the shimmering image on the viewer intently; suddenly he spotted something that gave him a glimmer of hope.

  “Magnify that spot,” he said pointing towards the display.

  It was a wrecked fighter bay, probably taken a direct hit from one of their torpedoes Michael wondered; it left a huge blackened breach in the station’s surface.

  “Any chance we can land in there?”

  “Possibly, however there will be very little room for error,” Televis replied.

  Michael looked at the Solarian navigator, who in turn looked back towards him with a slightly nervous look on his face.

  “Don’t worry, I trust you.”

  “Contact the fleet, tell them to form defensive formation, and that we are going to attempt to land on the facility.”

  Again hands flew across control panels. “Fleet confirms,” Televis said.

  The other Solarian Vessels spread out and began taking up strategic positions around Delta base; covering each others fire arcs.

  Michael leaned forward in his seat pensively. “Okay take us in, engines at ten percent sub-light, thrusters at users discretion,” he said almost whispering.

  The Liberty slowly and silently glided toward the pock marked and pitted surface of the station until it was directly adjacent to the breach. With barely enough room for the small ship to enter, it slowly advanced.

  The shredded outer hull of the station cast a steadily increasing shadow over the matt black and silver hull of the Liberty as it slowly made its way further inside. The viewer fell completely into darkness.

  “Forward landing lights.”

  The landing lights came on; brightly illuminating the bay, broken girders partially concealed the frozen bodies of Naval personnel trapped underneath, they looked for all the world like tiny frozen mannequins looking up at the comparatively huge ship approaching them. Debris littered the bay floor casting shadows as the landing lights from the Liberty played along the detritus as it advanced.

  Half smashed gantries hung limply from the walls, casting further shadows onto the scorched walls themselves. Slowly the Liberty drifted further inside the bay.

  “Cut all power to the engines, let her drift in.”

  The Solarian pilot cut the power to the engines. Ever so slowly the Liberty crept further and further inside the bay. Its lights continued to play across the scorched, debris ridden interior.

  “Lower landing legs.”

  Three large hydraulic landing legs slowly lowered from the underside of the ship. Shoots of gas escaped from the struts as they vented excess gas used as a shock absorber to cushion the vast weight of the Liberty.

  “Gravitic engines at five percent, reverse thrust.”

  The engines whined into life almost imperceptibly as they killed the small amount of forward momentum of the ship.

  “And, set us down,” Michael whispered with finality.

  The gravitic engines gave a slight whine and the ship gradually came to a rest upon its landing legs. Which only gave a small jet of gas, as the remaining excess was vented off again to equalise the weight of the ship.

  “Okay, cut all power to the engines,” Michael said.

  He nodded his appreciation at the pilot’s ability, and smiled. Turning to the form of Vargev sitting in his chair at his console, he said. “You fancy a space walk Nikolai.”

  “I’m game.”

  “Televis you’re with us,” Michael said to the Solarian.

  All three of them headed to the lower airlock on deck 9 of the Liberty. Once they were there Televis pressed a button on a metal floor length cabinet just near to the airlock and a rack of environment suits slowly slid out. They each donned one; surprisingly they were an exceptional fit. Together they donned their helmets and clicked them into position, the hermetic seals locked into place keeping the suit air tight.

  “Everyone give me a seal check,” Michael announced.

  They all pressed a control on the environment suits’ cuff, a small light shone green on each suit.

  “Seals are okay,” the other two said in response.

  “Okay I want constant radio contact; we don’t know what we are going to face in there.” They each pressed a small black button on the sides of their helmets, and inside a small microphone extended.

  Michael and Vargev hefted their huge Armschlagers, which they had retrieved earlier. “Okay, depressurize the airlock,” Michael said into his mic.

  Televis touched a small control panel on the wall, and a huge whoosh could be heard, as the air vented out into the vacuum that was the fighter bay.

  “Release the hatch.”

  A second control was pressed, and with a deep metallic sound the hatch slowly opened in the side of the Liberty.

  The three of them gradually drifted out from the hatch and into the frozen, barren fighter bay, pushing off from the Liberty’s hull. Gradually they drifted across the tight confines of the bay, as though a flock of gulls gliding through a thermal.

  Looking below them, they could all too clearly see the wreckage of twisted girders and smashed gantries littering the floor, intermingled with the frozen bodies of the fallen. There was what looked like the frozen body of a pilot, he was just ten feet from his peregrine fighter when he was decapitated; his head could just be seen a few feet ahead of him.

  Gradually they made it over to the wall of the fighter bay. And scrabbled down it, careful to avoid the
razor sharp edges of twisted metal that jutted out from the broken gantries still affixed to the wall; any one of which could tear a hole through their suits, and they would be done for; finally they made it down to a door.

  Shouldering their weapons; and with a huge strain, both Michael and Vargev managed to force open the door enough to venture inside.

  The long corridor was dark, dank and eerily quiet, some emergency lights blinked, but most barely worked; giving a strange almost strobe light effect to the place.

  Several bodies lay still on the floor, also frozen due to their exposure to the vacuum of space.

  As they proceeded down this dark oppressive corridor, they felt slightly nauseous as they could feel the slight crunch of them walking on small frozen pools of crimson human blood.

  Michael could feel his heartbeat slowly quicken in his chest as the menacing atmosphere began to take hold. All three of them continued to take slow, deliberate, almost nervous steps.

  Their breathing became shallower as they continued, straining to hear every sound, no matter how small. In case something should creep up on them.

  In a flash Vargev spun around, levelling his weapon. There was a dull, metallic crash behind them. As they looked they could find nothing.

  “Probably just a bulkhead,” Michael said nervously. “Let’s keep our eyes open anyway.”

  Slowly they carried on through the gloom. Under the pressure of the oppressive atmosphere Vargevs commando training began to kick in; constantly looking all around the corridor for signs of danger.

  “I don’t like this comrade.”

  “Neither do I, but we still need to know what happened.”

  They pressed on; albeit slowly, the whole place was deathly quiet. The faint ghostly scream of twisted metal in the background set their nerves jangling again.

  Televis pulled out a scanner as they approached a bulkhead door, he passed his scanner over it; the lights twinkled in the gloom. “There is power in the next corridor.”

  They approached the door tentatively. There was a faintly red glowing panel next to it. Michael pressed it and it changed to green; the door rapidly slid open, something flailed against his helmet, Michael involuntarily gasped and fell backwards he levelled his weapon; his heart pounding madly, what the hell was it?

  Looking up he saw that it was the form of an E.D.F crewman; slowly swaying, suspended by a bunch of cabling.

  “Hung himself, rather than be captured,” Vargev said studying the body.

  They shuffled past the rapidly freezing corpse, still gently swaying, and closed the bulkhead behind them.

  Here there was light, and they could see much better. Vargev keyed in a control to re-pressurize this part of the corridor. And slowly the corridor re-filled with air.

  “Environmental facilities must be working in this part of the station.”

  The lights continued to flicker though, casting shadows across the debris strewn floor. Eventually the trio came to a door on the left hand side of the corridor.

  Televis pulled out his scanner again. “There is a life-form on the other side.”

  “Is it human?”

  After a short tense pause the answer came, “yes.”

  The three of them breathed a sigh of relief.

  They tried the door control but it was locked, “Damn,” Michael cursed.

  “I’ll try my override code,” Vargev replied. Punching in a set of numbers, the result came up green, and the door quickly opened.

  A hysterical woman charged headlong screaming at them, she had long dark straggly hair and dirty skin. There was evidence of a tattered medical officers uniform underneath all the dirt and dried on blood stains. She hurtled headlong towards them brandishing a long metal knife.

  “Get away from me you murdering Krenaran bastards!” She screamed madly with fury and terror combined.

  “We’re Human!” Michael shouted back.

  It was no use, the mad screaming woman continued to rush towards them. Vargev reacted instantly and grabbed the knife arm; using his immense strength he pushed her backwards against a wall and held her there, by her arms.

  “We’re Human!” He repeated.

  The woman, unable to move in Vargevs vice like grip eyed him for a second as if silently weighing him up. She seemed to calm a little.

  “Not Krenaran?” she said simply.

  “No,” Michael Replied.

  “I am going to release you now,” the Russian released his grip, and backed off a little from the young woman.

  “Who are you?” Michael asked.

  “My name is Katherine Jacobs, Ensign, medical officer here,” she replied, her speech slightly broken.

  She must be out of her mind with fear; she could still be useful though, Michael thought.

  “Okay Katherine.” Michael began as soothingly and calmly as he could muster. “What happened here?”

  “What does it look like!” She shouted, breathing hoarsely. “We were attacked; it’s been the fourth goddamn time!” Tears began to roll down her filthy cheeks. “It’s like they’re toying with us, why won’t they just leave us alone?”

  “They won’t. Because we have something they want,” Vargev said.

  “Like what?”

  “Never mind about that there’s no time to explain, let’s just say you shouldn’t be attacked again for a while anyway. Tell me about the attacks,” Michael began questioning her.

  “Each time our laser turrets have managed to drive them off; but only just, the station has taken so much damage that it might not survive another attack.”

  “Who is in command now?”

  “Most of the command staff were killed when a salvo of torpedoes blew apart the command centre,” she replied sadly, as though reliving those events. “Lieutenant Commander Dickinson is in charge now, well on the last check anyway.”

  “Where can we find him?” Vargev asked.

  “Deck 49, inner section, it’s been rigged up as a temporary command centre. If we keep to the inner sections there is still air and power; follow me.” She said enthusiastically, her tears had gone, for now.

  They all unclipped their helmets and followed her.

  “Who is he?” Katherine asked in wonder, looking up at the tall form of Televis.

  “He’s a good guy, here to help us,” Michael said.

  “I’ve never seen anyone like him before.”

  “Don’t worry; you’ll be seeing a lot more.”

  At that they left what appeared to be a small, dirty, unkempt medical bay and they followed the young ensign through the darkened corridors and partially collapsed decks.

  They came upon a giant hole in the floor, where what appeared to be a huge piece of machinery had smashed its way though it. Michael looked down as he passed, and could just about see where the huge lump of machinery finally came to rest several decks below. Slowly and carefully they picked their way around it with barely enough room for their feet.

  Eventually they passed through some doors, and the room opened out into what resembled a rudimentary command centre. Albeit half the stations were non-functional; the four of them walked over to the centre of the room.

  Katherine Jacobs led them to a man on the floor; a bloodied steel pole poked through this chest. His royal blue E.D.F Naval uniform soaking wet with blood. And she held out a hand is if gesturing to the other three men.

  “Lieutenant Commander Dickinson.”

  Michael had barely known him; he was the assistant chief communications officer on board Delta base, however Michael had only met the man twice throughout his whole career. He was a by the book officer, although a capable one nevertheless.

  Coughing a mouthful of blood he managed to turn his head towards them.

  “Is there nothing you can do for him?” Michael asked Katherine.

  “We have given him morphine; if we remove the pole, we might risk killing him.”

  “Who……who are you,” Dickinson said looking up at the three new men in front of
him.

  “I’m Lieutenant Michael Alexander, This is Major Nikolai Vargev 1stE.D.F commandos, and this is Televis.”

  “Televis……what the?”

  “No time to explain, but he’s on our side. We’re here to help.”

  At this Dickinson laughed a throaty laugh, coughing up a small amount of blood in the process. “No one can help us now,” he spluttered. “The E.D.F is finished.”

  “Well; I’ve got 69 Solarian battle cruisers outside, that says it’s not.” Michael smiled.

  At this news Dickinson was genuinely surprised, “Solarians, who the hell are they.”

  “They have come to help us, but we need to know where fleet command is, and what has happened?”

  “Fleet command has been transferred to Alpha base,” Dickinson coughed. “The first attacks happened on the Agemman and Aurelias colonies.”

  “I already know about those, I was on the Ulysses before she went down.”

  “Right; well the fleet was formed into its constituent battlegroups as per the orders given when alert level one was introduced.” A small breath escaped Dickinson lips as he spoke. “With their damned stealth abilities, the fleet was doing nothing but chasing shadows.” He coughed up another small amount of blood.

  “First Foxtrot base fell, knocking out the majority of our intelligence, the 19thAirborne company stationed there managed to put up some resistance, but they were heavily outgunned and soon were either destroyed or captured.” He said as he wheezed slightly, Kathryn tried to wipe up some of the blood with a dirty cloth. “With the fall of Foxtrot base; the entire Connaught sector fell, shortly after that the colony at Eidolon fell also.” He coughed again. “Then there were the attacks on the Perseus and Malthus colonies; there have been sightings of Krenaran ships around Gamma IV and Gamma Aurigulon. Hell, half of the entire E.O.C.A territory is crawling with Krenaran ships.” He sighed a hoarse sigh. “If the Molrav and Bryant sectors fall, the gate will be open to attack Earth itself,” Dickinson said coughing again.

  “It won’t come to that,” Michael replied solemnly.

  “What about the Commandoes?” Vargev asked.

  Dickinson coughed up another mouthful of blood. “They are the only ones who seem to be holding their own in this damn war, the Krenarans always attack in greater numbers when they are around.” He gasped as a surge of pain racked his body. “The commandoes have been responsible for allowing hundreds of thousands of civilians to escape the fighting; and are currently holding some of the most important colonies. They are damned heroes, every last one of them.”