(Hedarik Space Station, orbiting Drotkins II, Drotkins System)
Dispatcher Fifth Zixly chirped happily as she watched the cameras in the Main Security Room of the station. She was a Vrok, an avian race that did not typically endure the confined nature of space travel that well, making them somewhat of a rarity in the wider galaxy. That didn’t matter to her. She was born on a space station, and had never known anything different. She just liked watching things.
That’s why she became a Security officer on the station, after all. She got paid to watch things all the time, and could then send Security officers to deal with any problems while she watched them too! It was the best job ever!
She liked watching things, so when her coworker, Dispatcher Fourth Jackson came in, looking troubled, she noticed. “Friend Jackson, what’s wrong? Did you and your nestmate have another fight?”
Jackson was a human. Humans were all over the place, but they were not common on the station. According to the numbers, Jackson was only one of seven humans on the station, and one of those was his nestmate. She liked watching them when they were in public. She didn’t watch when people were in private, of course. That was wrong.
“No, not that. Janet and I are fine. The problem is that a Corporate War has been declared, and the time limit for arbitration just ran out.”
“Oh, yes, that stuff with the, what are they, Black Stars? But why is that troubling you? There’s no Black Star facilities near here to launch attacks from, so we should be safe. All the stuff on those shows are fake, the Corp News said so.”
Jackson sighed. “The Black Stars don’t need local facilities to attack, Zix. They have a fleet. And I have a second cousin who is Confederate Navy. He was at Coldana. The Black Stars are the real deal. We’re all—”
His words cut out as alarms rang out across the system. Zixly frowned. That was the invasion alarm. Then there was a horrific screeching noise from the speakers that hurt Zixly’s ears, before a voice came over every speaker, using the emergency corporate address protocols.
“This is Commodore Keh Draka of the Black Star Navy. A state of corporate war exists between the Yathru Corporation and the Black Star Corporation. All non-Yathru shipping has thirty seconds to signal their noncombatant status.
“All Yathru shipping will be destroyed. All Yathru orbital infrastructure will be destroyed, including Hedarik Station. You have five minutes to evacuate, or be destroyed.”
Zixly chirped at the speaker in wonder, before bringing up the sensor data. “Oh, wow! There’s, like, over a dozen ships out there! And they’re launching fighters! And now the station is launching their drones, and the system defense force is moving into position. We’re going to get to watch a real space battle!”
Jackson wasn’t listening. He was on his comm, shouting, “Yes, I heard it too. Grab the bag, the one by the door, and get to the nearest escape pod. There’s only enough for a quarter of the station’s population, but if you go now, you should be able to get to one before people realize how badly this is going to end.”
He paused, and then said, “What? No, don’t go to the planet, Janet! Remember what Francis told us? They’ll take the planet out. Our only shot is if we get taken prisoner. Now go!”
Hanging up the call, Jackson grabbed Zixly by the armwing, hard enough to hurt. Humans always forgot that Vrok were fragile when they got excited. “Come on, Zix, we’ve got to get to an escape pod, NOW!”
She had little choice as she was dragged out of the security office, away from all the monitors she liked watching. She didn’t know what to make of Jackson. He usually didn’t act like this. But there wasn’t any point fighting against him, he was far too strong. Instead, she just kept up as best she could, watching the dataslate as she ran.
“Oh, wow, the drones are just no match for those fighters! The Clawlord is getting into range of that destroyer… oh. They killed the Clawlord. Venla was on that ship. Wait, there’s escape pods. Oh, I hope Venla made it! We talk together all the time, you know. She’s very nice.”
Jackson didn’t say anything, he just grunted. Soon enough, they were at the nearest escape pod, and Jackson almost threw her through the door. “Get strapped in, fast!”
“Wait, hold the pod!”
Two Ihm and a Knelfi woman with two children were running towards them. Zixly looked around as she buckled herself into the seat. There were only five seats, including the one she was in. That wasn’t going to be enough. But that only mattered if they launched, and they weren’t going to do that, right? Jackson was just playing a prank on her, right?
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Jackson pointed at the knelfi woman and the female Ihm. “You and you, in the seats, with the kids. Strap them in fast.” Looking at the Ihm male, he said, “Grab one of the cargo straps, and hold on.”
Her dataslate beeped, causing Zixly to look down at it. “Oh, wow. These ‘Black Star’ ships are really hammering the defense forces. They’ve only got two ships and a handful of drones left! Oh! The fuel processor out by the gas giant just got destroyed. Wow, I didn’t think they would destroy that. Even pirates want those things intact.”
“We’re strapped in,” the Knelfi woman called out.
Jackson nodded. “Right, we’re going.”
“Wait!”
Other people were running towards the pod. Zixly looked at Jackson. There was barely any room as it was. It would be too crowded, right?
Jackson looked grimly at the people rushing towards the pod. “Sorry.” He hit the button, and the door slammed shut, launching the pod. “I’m so sorry.”
(Flight Deck, BSN Acherus, Cornek System)
Captain Darion Mograine (callsign: Highlord) took a deep breath as he sat in the cockpit of his Thunderbolt IV Space Superiority Fighter. Unlike a lot of Black Star designs, this baby was designed to be fast enough to hang in there with enemy fighters, while still tough enough to take a licking and strong enough to give it back in spades. The Dragons might give bigger booms, and the Reapers were the best stealth interceptors in space, but if you wanted to get into a furball and survive, then the Thunderbolt was as close to a golden ticket as you were going to get.
According to the Nomads in the Corps, the Thunderbolt was actually named after an ancient fighter, from the days when Terra was still called Earth, and humans hadn’t yet reached Mars. Like that legendary ancestor, the Thunderbolt IV was basically an armored and shielded cockpit strapped to some powerful engines, all wrapped around a very big gun. Oh, sure, he had missiles, too, but there was something satisfying in seeing the rapid-fire weapon pulses flying ahead while he serviced enemy fighters.
Thirty seconds to target coordinates.
Acknowledging the prompt on his screen, Darion opened up the squadron comm channel. “Ebon Blades, this is Ebon Blade Leader. We are twenty-five seconds to mark. We are launching the moment we get clearance. I want a go/no go from all birds.”
“Come on, Cap’n. We have new blood that wasn’t with us last time we really fought, back on Coldana. Cruising around Tsk’neth without anyone who could even fight back properly doesn’t count. This is their first real attack. How about a speech?”
Mograin shook his head as Ebon Blade 2, Sally Whitemane chimed in. “Really, Inquisitor? A speech?”
“Now, Captain, you have to admit it would be a good time for it.” That was Thoras Trollbane, in the cockpit of Ebon Blade 4
“You too, King? Let me guess, ‘General’ Nazgrim, you’re wanting me to say something, too?”
Ebon Blade 9 just chuckled. The former planetary self-defense force general turned slave following the destruction of Jagloth was a Durotian, from the world of Durotar, a desolate, desert world, and his kind were known for their hardiness. “Give the unblooded a warcry to send them into battle, Captain.”
“Fine. Fine. You want a speech? I’ll give you a speech.” He took a breath, and then called out, “Soldiers of the Corps, death knights of Acherus, minions of the Black Sun, hear the call of the Highlord! RISE! The skies turn red with the blood of the fallen! The Black Sun watches over us, minions! Leave only ashes and misery in your destructive wake!”
There were laughs and cheers over the line, and then he saw the timer click down, and the hangar doors opened before him. Cutting into the line, he said, “Go forth and wreak havoc! All fighters, LAUNCH!”
(Bridge, BSN Barb Wire, Argits System)
Four days on a ballistic trajectory, their only communications done by tightbeam laser coms. They were coming in from below the ecliptic, like sharks beneath a blue-water fishing vessel. Their target was the Izih Trade Station, and all Yathru ships currently using it. Argits did not belong to Yathru, so they couldn’t simply destroy everything here. This was a surgical strike, which is why they called for Assassins.
Captain Vallery Irons leaned back in her command chair as she watched the timer slowly wind down. Their first shots had been fired twenty minutes ago. The Izih station may have been sprawling and well defended, but it was still a stationary target. The four Assassins under her command had fired on mathematically perfect trajectories, from below the ecliptic so that the chances of ship accidentally getting in the way was next to nothing. It was the kind of action Assasins were made for.
Now, she was just watching as the time to impact grew smaller and smaller. Fifteen seconds. “Helm, ready engines. Microjump into positions point two seconds after impact. Let anyone who is left alive to watch think that the explosion spawned us. Tactical, I want IFF readings confirmed. Yathru ships are kill on sight. Anyone else, fire if fired upon.”
The timer hit zero. The next instant, the eight ships, four Assassins and four gunboats, jumped to hyperspeed for a fraction of a second, appearing in the midst of chaos. All four shots had hit their target. They had detected the shots in enough time to raise the shields, but it hadn’t saved the station.
As the eight ships began firing, Captain Irons broadcast a message on the commercial frequencies. “This is Captain Vallery Irons of the Black Star Navy. A state of Corporate War exists between the Yathru Corporation and the Black Star Corporation. All Yathru shipping and facilities in this system shall be destroyed. As provided by the Bylaws of Corporate Warfare, Noncombatants and Neutral parties shall not be attacked unless they attempt to intervene, conspire or trade with an involved party on site, or fire upon our ships. BSN Barb Wire, out.”
(Main Bridge, BSN Banshee’s Wail, in orbit of Ghadreix Omniplex, Vadreix System)
“Commodore, all off-planet infrastructure and facilities have been eliminated. All enemy forces and enemy-flagged civilian shipping has been destroyed. Three civilian freighters managed to communicate their surrender before they were destroyed, and have been captured by the Marines. However, the two inhabited planets and three inhabited moons all remain defiant.”
Commodore Lindsay Ravensun nodded at the lieutenant’s report. All was going as planned. “Very well, then. Are the special packages ready?”
“They are, Ma’am.”
“Very well. Initiate fire plan Alpha.” She turned her attention away from the lieutenant, dismissing him, and focused on image of the Ghadreix Omniplex city-world on the screen. The massive world city covered the entire globe. If there ever were seas or plains or mountains anywhere on the world, they were long since gone by now. Only city extending for kilometers above the ground, and just as far under it, where people could go their entire lives without ever seeing the sun.
Twelve Greenwave torpedoes had been devoted to this target alone, focusing on industrial and administration centers. The nanites would have ample resources to feed on. Whether they would leave anything for the population was academic. There were over 300 billion mouths to feed on that planet, all of them relying on food shipments and machine-made nutripaste to survive.
The world would become an abattoir. But from the ashes, the survivors would be stronger, hardier, and, just maybe, wiser than their current generation. If there were any survivors. She found it difficult to care about these wretches. Yathru would be destroyed, like a world-tree burned to ash, and its destruction would ‘persuade’ Black Star’s rivals that their rivalry should remain a friendly one, leaving everyone better off in the long run.