1808/AC02-12EVENTLOG

Ω CHAPTER TWELVE: THE EYE

“Prokhyon is the hub of technological advancement in the OSFC. This recorder i’m talking into. The crystal lattice datadrive it’s stored on, it all came from Prokhyon. And Mercurial Eye is the epicenter. The station is a work of engineering genius. You can’t find better anywhere, not even on Gaia or Antares. If we have a chance, Mercurial Eye must be saved…” -KT, Nav Officer

With an echoing clap of thunder the Phoenix arrived. Her arrival was adrenaline filled, she spun off into the darkness just short of her destination. With jets of flame coating her hull she brought the flat spin into a gentle cruise. The flames silenced as a heatsink deployed with a silent clunk.

Aboard the air had finally cooled, yet the smell of sweat was thick in it. The tension rebounded off the walls, all the while her bridge became filled with a chatter of voices alien to her heroes. Communications between hundreds of thousands of vessels. Civilians begging for refuge, warriors begging for orders.

“By the stars…” KT muttered in awe. “Look at them all…”

Under the shadow of the Eye, The Phoenix had erupted forth as one of many dozens of new vessels, each one answering the rally call. Their drives boomed like echoing thunder, heard even across the vacuum beyond their cold cages. With each arrival came more brave souls to lay they’re lives down upon the shadows of the void...

“This looks worryingly like a station hold.” Jax muttered with a chill in her voice, she didnt see their strongest vessels, nor the greatest weapons they had. No, she only saw the bodies the OSFC were willing to throw in front of the onslaught. With this station hold, their rulers seemed all too keen to build an impassable wall of corpses, and with the knowledge they had of what approached, this axiom of strategy seemed more akin to a last stand.

The forces of the entire system had converged, daring as they may to place themselves in the path of their assailant, determined over any will to win the day.

Their presence blocked out the sun, it even obscured all the presence of the station beyond them. The defenders had formed a bulwark, an unbreakable wall of metal and weaponry between the approaching wave of destruction and the hub of the entire system. The stakes were known by all, and ever reminded by the lethal red glow of the burned world far beneath them. The shadows of the fallen were ever present. The fury of the desecrated world would drive them forward into glory. On every frequency their warriors spoke of those lost. The sacrifices that had been made. They had come from across the local planets, coming forth from the darkness. They were here. They were all ready for war.

By the last strength in their bones, this enemy would go no further.

“I have never seen so many ships before…” KT sounded atleast hopeful, she looked amongst the crew, they all had their eyes on the view beyond. “Nav can’t keep track of all them.”

“Neither have I.” Skip replied, he too was in awe at the sight. For the first time they felt there was a chance...

Just maybe...

“Good. We can put up a helluva fight.” French grumbled. He shoved a few cigarettes in his mouth, lighting the lot of them in a sweep of his hand. Reservations were still held, but hope had for once won out. They just needed people to listen to them.

“They need to run. It’s their only choice.” Jax’s opinion cut through the moment’s hopeful awe. The pessimism boiled over in her voice. “It’s why we’ve come all this way. Get them to turn and run and figure how to kill these bastards...”

“Yeah, but I betcha that fleet…” French pointed at the assembled bulwark. “Will make ‘em hurt.”

The Phoenix broke free of the emerging formation into a region of less crowded space. Her limp was ever riddled in an eternal flame, yet for once she was not alone in that regard. Jets emerged from other vessels as they maneuvered, feeble in comparison, yet they all together set the night alight. With the spirit of fire beside them, their enemies would surely burn.

The body of the fleet was now between them and the station, already though the wave of inbound ships blotted out the relentless wave that encroached upon them. Vessels of all size and caliber took up formation in a lethal wall of steel and weaponry. The range was massive; from proud dreadnaughts to drafted freighters; to the finest battleships and nimble Chariots, all were stacked up in a tight fire-ready formation. Strike Craft buzzed in swarms in the spaces between each ship. Every weapon tracked the coming fury.

“SX05A Phoenix... contacting station control. Repeat. Station Control are you receiving?” Skip spoke hesitantly into the handset. He spotted a chillingly familiar vessel amongst the fleet.

The Admiral’s dreadnought was just as imposing here as it had been years ago, albeit it looked a little more tired. Still it held pride of place amongst the other vessels, its hull was now adorned with warpaint, the scars of previous battles were displayed proudly. They had all hoped it was here, but seeing it again made everyone feel on edge. KT’s eyes stared daggers at the vessel looming past them. If she could crush it with her mind she would’ve.

The fact the man who ruined her life was their only chance of survival left them all bitter and cold.

“This is Mercurial Eye space control. SX05A you are to proceed into formation with BattleGroup Eight-Three-Six and await further instructions from group commander.” The crew collectively groaned when the channel opened again. It was not the response they wanted.

“Negative Space Control, I am requesting… Insisting upon docking permission, not orders. I have important… no, vital information pertaining to the enemy fleet…” Skip struggled to find the correct words to convince these people. “I must get this information to Admiral Wulf immediately! I need priority docking clearance at the earliest opportunity.”

“SX05A, Form in with BattleGroup Eight-Three-Six or you are in violation of port authority.”

“Frag the bastards, Sir.” French finally spoke to his captain, holding out one of the cigarettes to the man. The gesture was gladly received, although the stick was nearly crushed before it reached his mouth.

“Fleets on high alert, Frenchie, if we go against port authority those battleships will blow us out the sky before we can get within ten kilos of the docking booms.” Skip explained, he desperately thought how best to proceed, pounding his head to make the cogs whir faster. He was flustered, he was programmed to follow orders...“Any ideas?”

“We have maybe two hours of air left?” French suggested. He then shook his head viciously, throwing ash everywhere. “Nah they'd just tank us off the commandship.”

“Gyroscopes? Torn structural members? Reaction thrusters? And y’know the gaping holes in our girl?” Jax groaned, throwing French a replacement cigarette for the one he was missing. “Not exactly classed as fully combat ready at the moment are we?”

“Watch it sparky!” French immediately turned defensive, earning a concerned look from his crewmates. “Our girl could still toast a destroyer even now!”

“Yeah but they don’t need to know that do they?” She donned a mischievous smile, and Skip had to contain his laughter.

“Banging Jax, knew there was a reason I had you.”

“Aside from my good looks?” She chirped with a teasing smile, earning a slow glare from KT.

“Aside from your good looks. Do us a favour Frenchie...” He pointed at one of the torn cables hanging from the ceiling. “Make that spark for me.”

When port control caught sight of the stray gunboat, it looked in a woeful state. Smoke billowed from her sundered armour, sparks flashed through her viewports and there was even traces of flames billowing in her crippled maneuvering jets. The vessel looked pitiful, good for little more than a battering ram.

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

Then they finally replied.

“Space Control, we took heavy damage in multiple engagements just getting here, The Phoenix has limped here and is no longer combat capable. Request docking permission to repair and rejoin the fleet.”

The pause was tentative. Each vessel that flew past had them on a knife edge. Friendly as they may be, they could rapidly become an enemy before the crew could react. The heat began to rise, the smell of smoke and the tangy taste of ozone filled the bridge.

“Granted.” Skip fist pumped, and French scruffed up Jax’s hair so badly he momentarily scrambled her brain. “Proceed to North Axis, trench eighteen, docking boom twelve. Docking boom will bring you automatically into the appropriate hangar for your ship. Alert from command to all docking vessels: Be combat ready in four hours.”

“Hopefully we’ll be out of here in four hours.” French grumbled, getting to his feet. He worked various controls aft of his station, the workings of which were only becoming visible from beyond.

In moments the smoke, fire and sparks vanished. The Phoenix had played the act beautifully, pouncing out of sight of docking control with remarkable speed. With the silent whir of gears and the heartbeat of hydraulics, her hull opened. At her midpoints flaps of dented armour turned, rotated and tilted to clear the access to her two hardpoints. The sockets rose out of their berths as she accelerated towards the station. She would end the journey as it began, under the whim of a superior machine

She raced past the largest battleships, ending up buffeted in their wake very quickly. Emerging into the space between the fleet and the station they entered a shielded tranquility, no more than a few kilos wide; it betrayed the beat of war drums heard throughout the sector. Only the ionised jets of plasma from the fleet’s idling engines disturbed it’s grace. For the first time on their journey the ever approaching storm of their enemy was completely indiscernible, like a nightmare having been long awoken from. The overbearing weight had begun to lift as they approached, what they hoped would be, the journey's end.

The Phoenix fell into the sweeping approach path, her hull flashed in the light from the route of blinking navigation beacons. The texture of the station unfolded afore them. Patterns across its surface emerged like fractals. What seemed as forests of spires unfolded into cityscapes rising from a landscape of cold metal. She crested over the edge of a tempestuous cliff, venturing forth into a cold valley of steel. Ships passed too and fro, many of them rising to join the endless wall above them.

Shuttles and jumpships flashed past from tower to tower across an area comparable to large islands or mountains planetside. The expanse of steel was so large it tricked the eye, and the closer they neared, the more the scope of Mercurial Eye came into realisation. The heart of Prokhyon was the equivalent of a man made world, carved into the form of a rotating cylinder above a now burning world. The only safe harbour for the greatest minds and architects silently shaping their people’s future.

She swooped into a vast canyon, way over the span of even the largest dreadnoughts. The trench within it she rushed for was still huge, lined by hangar doors arranged once again in honeycomb form. They stretched into the distance, to the point the rhythmic bumps on the surface faded into nothing but a sheet of grey seemingly ending at the stars themselves. The beacons flashed her towards a large gantry that was on a far more familiar scale. Their approach was slow, gentle… almost cautious.

“Engaging automated approach.” Skip muttered, pressing an often unused button, it was stiff from lack of use, requiring a few pushes to get the system to engage. He tentatively released the helf controls, his hands still hovered nearby. It was an alien sight watching the levers and dials operate themselves.

The Phoenix was flying herself...

And she was very good at it.

From such a slow approach she rapidly accelerated, diving to a specific altitude beneath the gantry, no doubt with indelible accuracy. She stopped on a pinhead, throwing the crew off balance briefly. As she ascended she rotated almost gracefully, the computer offset her thrust, trimmed her tails and stabilized her roll. Techniques that would take any helmsman a century of training to do with flight assists. The result was an unnaturally smooth approach. Her bow swung around far, eventually coming to a complete halt, no more than a few feet from the docking array’s connectors.

The arms extended slowly, almost painfully slow knowing it was all that they waited upon. The waiting ship was patient, yet she seemed to have an urgency that matched her crew. Yet, unnaturally, there was not one twitch, not one turn. She didn’t even feel her wounds, she made do without.

And yet the docking was perfect. The booms slid into their sockets inch by inch with no resistance, and when they reached into the Phoenix’s heart, her engines all went silent. She was at this new machine’s whim, having given herself willingly. Let not her be betrayed.

The gantry she now hung upon began to move. Running along a single monorail, seemingly drawing the vessel towards the canyon wall at ever-increasing speed. By the time they’d ran out of rail, they were going fast enough to dash the helpless vessel against the station like an insect.

Thankfully though, nothing went wrong. A large aperture swung open like an iris, bringing the Phoenix into the station’s protection. They came upon a large shaft, heading downwards vertically for seemingly miles.

“Brace for the drop guys. Frenchie go get your bucket.” Skip announced as the aperture sealed away the last glimpses of stars. The most mysterious of sensations began to unfold.

The Phoenix was always an isolated island of life in the ever expansive void. Yet the moment that aperture closed off the stars they held so dear, they began to become aware of something else.

Sound...

Slowly the whine of gears and the humm of electrics returned. There was no silence beyond their home anymore. They were a part of something else. Something far larger, it echoed even in itself. They could feel a world outside their own for the first time in years.

So they could hear the gantry’s thrusters fire, and the whip of the wind past their hull. It was unsettling. They were all too aware here that their fate had been wrenched from their hands. The Phoenix had no option but to descend.

So descend she did, straight down. The walls of the shaft whipped by with blurs of equipment and various viewport, vanishing as quickly as they came into the darkness, illuminated briefly only by the glow of the gantry’s engines and the pure white light from the Phoenix’s spotlights.

“Does it have to be so violent?” KT asked as she forced a datadrive into the Phoenix’s computer, the device bleeping immediately in confirmation as the download began. She sent a concerned look to their weapons officer, and only got a cocky smile in return. The silent conversation had eased what reservations she had.

“It’ll take you a month to walk to the hangar otherwise.” French explained in rather simple terms, monitoring the docking sequence unfold upon the central table of their living quarters. They were being taken deep into the station, straight to it’s drydock and foundries.

“Great...” She muttered, wrenching the datadrive from the machine. She held it up to her captain as he came aft. “Got the most convincing data samples I could. Our transfer buses are too old to transfer the whole lot in one go, chances are they will pull her data core...”

“You kidding? That’d take hours to remove.” Skip frowned, taking the datadrive. His hand lingered on hers. The contact was reassuring. KT just shrugged.

“Well then best hope they got some revolutionary new way of wirelessly taking our intel.” She suggested, as Skip turned the device over in his hands. It was the key now. The key to victory… It was sacred.

“Final approach guys…” French announced. They could feel the Phoenix lurch on her rails. She was beginning to maneuver. Seemingly, the docking unfolded unseen.

“Right. French keep an eye on em, sort everything out, get her fixed. But don't let them frag with her too badly.” Skip ordered, slapping the man’s shoulder as he went past. “If we need to fight, them or this thing make sure she can.”

“Aye sir, don't worry, I’ll have them as a nose ornament if they hurt her.” He started smiling in a rather evil manner, cracking his knuckles almost eagerly.

“Jax rearm, reload. Clear guns, get us stocked up. Nothing but explosive rounds, and see if you can scrounge some more heatsinks than normal… and do your usual.” Skip’s gaze turned to his weapons officer, she too donned a smile.

“Don’t worry Skip, I got 'em already.” She said rather mischievously, cracking her knuckles as well and flexing her neck. In case her intentions were unclear she pulled her zipper down slightly. She would make sure they got the best.

“KT…” Skip spun back to face her, he was surprised that she was right behind him, looking up with a smile. “You're with me. You gonna be good?”

“Yes Captain…” Her smile never faded. “Wulf tries anything, I will kick his ass.”

The hanger was vast beyond the Phoenix, infact her presence was barely noteworthy. It expanded so far in every direction that the distant walls were completely obscured by the haze of the atmosphere and the curve of the station. The Phoenix had been put into a small hexagonal alcove, one of a thousand honeycomb-like berths that lined both walls of the vast cavern. An array of piers extended into the open space, at their end rose what seemed as cities. Only every tower was a vessel in itself. Docked vertically, the behemoths of war were far from in an operable condition. Hulls were rended, sparks flew and some ships still burned.

The fires burned on every pier, lighting the hanger with the gentle glow like a thousand candles.

What was a city however, was what hung from the distant ceiling. It stretched into the chasm, but barely even cleared a third into it. The towers were the finest of technological marvels, the bases of which stood in what seemed as an almost planetary landscape. Clouds moved over a seemingly endless array of arcologies.

“Hey.” KT took Skip’s hand as she approached. She couldn't tell if he was waiting for her or marvelling at the sight before him. It was a sight so rare, he cherished it every time.

“Hey.” He pulled his gaze from the Phoenix towards the only other person that could be classed as beautiful. “You ready.”

“If you are.” They were in a rush, they both knew that. Every second that went by crippled their chances. Yet they drew each other into a tight embrace, for the moment, that only mattered.

“Always.” Skip said with a smile when they finally broke. He smacked her on the shoulder, a gesture returned in kind, if anything even harder. “Lets see if they’ll listen.”