“You have your orders, Commander. Carry on with the attack.”
The call came from the Vice Admiral of the 7th Fleet, Wolf, ordering Vales to advance. The 7th fleet wasted no time after the Trill system, and after they had cleaned up the remaining forces, they regrouped for the next jump into the next system. However, Vale was tasked with leading an advanced group into the initial fray.
“Dala,” He called out and a gold-colored circle appeared on the central holo-table, “What can we expect in Villo?”
“Just a moment,” she replied, “We are expected to come into contact with a sizeable defense force. Their course indicates that are trekking toward our newly recorded Inter-System's Gate.”
“Then that's where we’ll cut them off. When will the enemy reach the Gate?”
“Calculating…” she replied, with Vale sitting silently on his command chair as they traveled through Slip-Space, “They will arrive just before us. Our trajectory would take us further into the system. Would you like for us to redirect?”
Vale looked at one of his displays and the timer showed there was about an hour before arrival.
“Do it. Have us jump in the middle of their formation. Can you do that?”
“I can, with a margin of error of 40.78% for an accidental Slip-Space Calamity.”
Vale took in her report before issuing his final answer. A slip-Space Calamity was rare in open space but occasionally, when one would exit a jump, the slip-space bubble that one passes through would be inhabited by two entities. This would result in a tear of space of the ship that exists in normal space, and as the ship traveling in slip would summarily crash into the unfortunate soul caught in their exit. It was not a fate many would want to share.
“Have us come out just beyond their Gate,” he ordered.
“Of course,” Dala replied, “The margin of error for a Slip-Space Calamity is now 5.06%”
The timer from the exit was now reduced to several minutes. He was glad that they could make corrections mid-jump because it would be troublesome to make a jump with incorrect coordinates and be forced to backtrack because you happened to overshoot by a couple of light years. Granted, this was mostly the issue with earlier model exploration ships and most computers now have autocorrection built-in of already established points.
“Good,” Vale now turned his attention to the main microphone’s control and called the different stations throughout the ship.
Those responsible for the weapons of the ship then began a series of operational tests before loading their first sets of ammunition. From the viewport of the bridge, to test their guns, the main deck cannons situated on the sides of the ship spun and raised their barrels systematically.
They were situated on both the top and bottom of a large rectangular outcrop that lined the central sides of the ship. They were of medium length and the barrel size was 508 mm in diameter. The rounds were also magnetically accelerated to supplement the battlefield that was space and were fired at fractions of the speed of a medium MAC round. Three barrels were situated on a single turret and ten total turrets were situated on each side of the Emerald-Class of Heavy Frigates.
Vale was part of the advanced group and had the bulk of the fleet under his command as the rest of the fleet waited for reinforcements in the previous systems. However, they could be supplied fighters not already part of their attacking force.
Vale was notified by the ship's weapons crew and adjacent ships that all their systems were functional, and they were simply waiting to exit slip space.
“Charge for a MAC round as soon as we exit slip space,” Vale ordered to not only his own bridge crew but to the other ships carrying MAC Ordnance. He was given reports of affirmation as the counter-depleted.
The space before them, which was a swirl of black, blue, purple, and white, was now a scene of calm black and a piercing of the system's sun.
Indicators lit up with red and alarms were sounded upon entry back into real space. On one of the field displays as well as the holo-table, several blips of red congregated before them several hundred kilometers from where they entered. From the displays of the largely marked entities came smaller ones that numbered less than a hundred.
“All MAC-capable ships, pick a target and aim for the largest one. Sync your shots.” Vale called over the commas radio, “Hold your fire until my mark!”
The helmsman turned the ship where the crosshair of the ship led a pip of the largest ship which was scanned as a heavy cruiser. Besides, it had many more frigates and corvette-class ships accompanying it.
Vale then called for Dala who looked at him with black oval eyes atop her golden hologram, “Dala, hail the enemy with an ultimatum. Surrender now or suffer a total loss.”
“Right away, sir,” responded the AI. A silence followed, indicating that she went about her orders. When a connection was established, Dala reported it to Vale, “They are sending a live feed, do you wish to put it on screen?” Vale nodded, and on a static display on his chair, which was fairly large, the visage of the Sellian race appeared.
Its eyes were more almond shaped with two different coloration present within their iris. A thin outer ring of bright blue made up the edge of their eyes with a lighter pastel blue within the remainder of the iris. The pupil was similar to his own, but there was a mark present above and below the pupil that made it seem like they had slits like a reptile. Its skin was colored in a pastel violet-pink, with magenta markings along the cheeks and around their chin, similar to tribal markings but ages past but these seemed natural.
They had long ears that looked like fur and tapered to a point with the end protruding a tussle of fur. They had light blue hair with black highlights tied in a high knot that resembled the blue of a glacier. They donned a similarly colored cloth headdress with the loose ends present on the right side of their head with a jewelry ornament on the opposite side. There was another ornament that laid itself on the bridge of their relatively flat noses.
As they spoke, their voice reflected a feminine tone that demanded attention.
“Terran Commander! For what purpose do you offer an ultimatum?” she demanded.
Vale was at a loss of her beauty. Her hair seemed a mess, yet purposeful, and the markings on her face added more to her aesthetic, but Vale fought against those thoughts and resolved to carry out his duty.
“First off, this is a time of war between our people, secondly, I do so only as a courtesy, as coarse my demands may be,” Vale responded.
“Indeed they are, commander. Tell me, what is your name?” she asked.
“Commander Vale, of the Emerald-Class Heavy Frigate, TRSC Hell Hath No Fury. And you are?” replied the officer.
“I am Chief-Commander Yorla of the Heavy Cruiser, The Sword of Sella. I do say, commander, your people have fought valiantly, thus far. Why?”
The answer came to him as quickly as picking out what shoes to wear for work, “Your people have attacked mine unprovoked, and without warning. My people want blood, but we know we can't needlessly slaughter you. We're better than that. It's also the reason you're still afloat.”
She scowled her face at the screen when he was silently notified by a crewman that all MAC-capable ships were ready to fire, but he motioned them to wait.
“I have not been told much of the Terrans as I have been here, in Villo. Defending this plot of space from your advance. Tell me why I should think differently of your race? A race that has been described by my War Council as bloodthirsty invaders who prey on the innocent?”
“How blindly do you follow your War Council?” Vale then asked, “I fear you may have your priorities mistaken,” he continued, knowing now that the enemy before him was willing to open a dialogue.
She looked as if she were seriously pondering her thoughts before she replied, “For as long as I can remember. When I first joined, we had beaten back the treachery that is the Union. Why would I cast aside their judgement now?”
Vale carried a look of sincere pity that was conveyed to Yorla, which she understood, “I know why your people fought against the Union. It was their use of slaves correct?”
Her expression then turned sour at the mention and anger was visible in her vibrant eyes, “What do you know about-”
“I know very much about it, Yorla,” he said in a soft tone, “My people have done that against our own when we were still stuck in our one and only world. It has existed since the dawn of my species, from simple huts, to even now. As we speak, there are still people enslaved, and we still fight to release them from their binds. And yes, it is our own who still commit these acts, and we still campaign against such conditions.”
He continued his story and beckoned the other captains of his fleet in on the call, as well as extending the invitation to their enemy, “We have done the tragedies you so despise, but we have grown beyond that. But now, the race that has fought so hard against is now the very perpetrator. It is a stain on the memory of your ancestors.”
“You-!”
“Dala, play the footage we received from Minerva,” he ordered, “Forgive me, Yorla. But what I am about to show you may seem uncouth, but it is needed for you to recognize, we are not the aggressors in this campaign.”
“Right away sir,” replied the ship-born AI.
The video gifted to them that Dala distributed to the enemy ships halted their advance. It was footage from the attacks on Draxis and Dema. Where children and women were taken aboard the ships Yorla had been briefed on but never actually encountered. However, their shape and insignia were indistinguishable from the reports and knowledge from before her time.
Her expression was now one of anguish and anger fused. She had replayed the speeches of Councilman Polas over in her head. That humanity was a scourge that had recently made it to the stars. That they were a people who were hungry for territory and sought the destruction of their civilization. She had bought into it, as did many of her kin, but the facts were indisputable.
“This was done by the very people you fight for. Who happen to be the same people who fought against these very acts, or so we’ve learned. You know it's not right. We just want justice for those who were needlessly slaughtered and enslaved. That's why I need your cooperation, Yorla.”
She looked upon the video of the corralled Terrans and the men, elderly, and disabled that laid on the ground beside the columns that led into the box-like slaver ships. She reclined in her seat, defeated.
Vale then spoke, in the same soft, yet comforting tone, “Power down your weapons and quietly surrender, Yorla. It would be better than the alternative. Not every fight has to end in bloodshed.”
Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as she nodded quietly, “Sir, weapons, and thrusters are powering down,” Reported the scanner.
“That's a good decision, Yorla,” added Vale in a soft tone. As the ships were powering down, an officer of the scanners booth reported immediate retaliation from the enemy.
“Sir! Several enemy frigates are at max throttle, headed right for us!” It seemed like the voice of the scanning officer was picked up and Yorla perked up at the report.
“Wait! I didn't order that!” she quickly interjected, denying the seemingly random act.
Vale could hear that she was ordering whoever was flying towards them to stand down, but it was quickly reported that they ceased to decelerate. He believed her cries and sought to punish those who thought only with brash emotion.
“One hundred clicks! And counting!” one officer noted when a view came on the main view screen on the bridge. It was a much younger Sellian, and by the looks of it, was barely a Chief by their standards.
“You think you can try to deceive us?! You warmongers! This is for Sellia!” and before Vale could rebuke his claims, the call was cut.
“I am sorry, Yorla,” he said in a solemn tone. But he had a fleet to defend, “All ships! Take down the aggressors!”
Out of the total force of Yorla's twenty-five ship fleet, eight were of frigate tonnage and made a dash toward Vale's fleet of fifty ships; a wealthy mix of ships from patrol boats to heavy cruisers.
A volley of shots from the closest frigates and cruisers traced the black void in a faint blue and white light, and it raced to their destination. Out of the ships, the heavier ships were able to tank a single shot, but a second shot made its wait through the hull moments later, resulting in a fiery grave.
However, one lone ship was capable of piercing the firing line of ships and made its way to just under fifty kilometers. As a show of force, Vale ordered his ship to reveal its broadside and even had Dala coordinate a recorded spectacle with the help of the other personal assistant AI on the nearby ships.
As the enemy ship pierces beyond the twenty-five-kilometer mark, Vale ordered a concentrated volley of the deck guns at the advancing ship. In a wave of thunderous booms and smoke, the cannons fired one after the other; totaling thirty individual shots from the magnetically accelerated deck guns. And instead of the APHENT rounds, they were instead loaded with a standard armor-piercing tungsten round.
The shields were shattered on the Sellian vessel and the large rounds found their marks across the frame of the ship. Where armor was lighter, the rounds went through it like butter, while some rounds were able to drive their way from the bow to the aft end of the ship. The result was a mass of debris wildly flying in all directions as the ship sped out of control and then ended its trip in an explosion of its main drive core. At least that's what he believed.
The silence was shared between all parties when Vale addressed those who did not wastefully advance to their deaths.
“I am Commander Vale and I demand your surrender. No harm will befall you if you do so peacefully,” he then cut the call but established a line between himself, and Yorla.
“Yorla,” he spoke, her face still sullen, but she looked up to face him, “I would like to have a word, personally.”
“That's…fine. I have ordered my ships to power down and they await your forces. I do request you be cordial…”
Vale gave a nod of assurance, “Of course. Just relay to them to get on their knees and keep their hands on their heads.”
“And that will make it peaceful?” she asked, in a meek tone.
“It tells the troops they are non-combative, and it will make the process go a lot smoother,” he reassured.
“Understood. Then I await your escort,” She said.
He nodded and the video from his personal display was cut, “All ships, proceed to dock.”
The ships with the most marines attached were the ones who docked with the Sellian vessels, as did his with Yorla's heavy cruiser. The docking mechanism for their ships was vastly different from one another, but the Terrans utilized a free-form extension to connect to the Sellian ships. This was the case when ships refused docking from authorities, and it was used as a forceful entry tool, but that wasn't the case here.
As Vale made his way through the corridors of the vessel, lines of Sellians were found placed on their knees with their hands above their head as he had suggested. Using a map from the documents from Minerva on the layout of the enemy ships, he effortlessly made his way to the bridge. There, he was met by the bridge crew commanded by Yorla, who remained in her seat.
It swiveled revealing a small person who reached just below his chin. She placed her hands together in front of her and offered a bow, “I am Chief-Commander Yorla, and I formally surrender to your command.”
Her skin was relatively smooth and the colors that pigmented her skin were vibrant in person, so it caught Vale off-guard. He gave a slight cough and placed her in cuffs, leading her to his ship…
… The 7th Fleet, known for its expeditionary nature, had made its way through the Villo System after a subjugation with a detachment of Heavy Frigates, Cruisers, and Corvettes of the enemy force that occupied the system.
Gruda only knew from a report that Commander Vale of a Heavy Frigate led the advanced charge into the system, and had managed to broker a surrender of the enemy. He had also read about the several pride-filled Sellians had tried to suicide charge their formation, but were met with a swift end.
He saw the recording of the encounter and found Terran weaponry terrifying. Again, Gruda referred to his previous knowledge and knew of weapon technology being developed but ultimately ended in failure. It was the same principle as what the Terrans used on their larger warships but theirs was perfected and continuously improved upon, unlike the Sellians.
After his people began their switch to plasma-based technology, they tried to strive away from the kinetics that humans seem so obsessed with. However, kinetics were still largely in use by ground forces and aircraft but recent engagements revealed some changes in armament, albeit the few prototype ships they fielded were nothing but molten scrap in space.
“Lieutenant Grace,” he called out to the comms officer, “What is it with humans and their fascination with Kinetic-Based Weaponry? Plasma seems much more palpable for munitions.”
She thought for a moment before answering, “I don't really know why. That might be a question for the XO or the Admiral,” she said before returning her focus to her station. Wolf sat in his chair designated for one of his rank and delved his focus on a persona data pad.
“Sir, if I may,” Gruda asked, “Why does your species seem so keen on using ballistics when plasma has a destructive capability on par with standard munitions?”
Wolf paused a moment, “Well, the theory on why we love guns so much goes back as far as the dawn of civilized society.”
He turned his attention toward the unused holographic table in the center of the bay and called for Minerva, “Minerva, bring up a scale of civilizations since the dawn of man.”
“Of course,” she replied, and a series of differently dressed males were lined up, from a hunched-over Terran with little to no clothes to a modern-day Terran sporting the outfit of a Marine with a rifle in hand.
“When our race, the Homo Sapiens, arose, we have had weapons in the making. As you can see, we have no claws, no tough hide, and no thick fur. No venom, no poison. But there was something we had that the wildlife lacked,” he said and pointed to his temple, “Intelligence.”
“So we used tools made of stone and wood and leather and over the ages we developed, improved, and utilized. With each age, the next came sooner, and with that, the advancement of technology and tactics.”
Minerva played re-enactments of ancient battles with swords and bows and pole arms up to early modern tactics of soldiers on the ground. Gruda noted the use of a herbivore during the earliest battles up to when firearms were becoming more advanced. It intrigued him as he watched with keen interest.
“Humanity has known war for as long as we can remember, and we have actively sought ways to always better the enemy. From the simple cannonball to what you see on our ships today. We know the horrors of war, and it's why we also have rules for war.”
Those words felt off for Gruda. He knew that when races are pitted against each other, it would normally result in acts that he personally didn't partake in and rejected, but it was known to many in higher office.
“What do you mean you have rules for war?” asked their Sellian Ensign.
“We know what it's like to be on the end of an atrocity. So, we set up rules to protect the innocent and to keep the fight on the enemy, lest you be labeled a war criminal.”
Gruda picked up a new term and thought furiously on it, “What is a War Criminal?”
“It's someone who causes unnecessary suffering not just to the enemy, but to non-combatants as well, and I can count several of your race who meet that criteria…” added Wolf. He was stung by those words, but knew they were justified in how they felt given the information present to them.
As Gruda was about to speak, a notification from the comms officer overtook his thought, “Sir, I have a line from the Advanced Team, it's Commander Vale.”
“Right, put him through. And someone, find me, Randal,” The call was directed to the rear display and Wolf and Gruda both stood before it. It came online and a young-looking man, who couldn't have been more than his early thirties, stood on the other end with a female Sellian beside him. She stood rather close to the commander and her hands fidgeted at her waist as she looked forward to the screen.
“Vale, what do you have to report?” demanded Wolf of the Terran Officer.
“We've taken the Aloma System and are currently sweeping the system for resistance. The use of evidence contrary to the propaganda by the War Council has turned some over to our side, but we're still getting some form of resistance from a quarter of the populace. We've organized with the planetary authority, and they're willing to try to cease hostile tensions.”
“Good work. Did we have to fire a shot? I would like us to be able to rally like-minded forces. Much like your recent…ally,” Wolf said with a sidelong glance, “By the way, I don't think I've received a proper greeting.”
Vale had an expression of embarrassment and his face was flush red, “H-her name is Yorla. Chief-Commander to the War Council but she grew estranged during her time out in the Villo System.”
“The Villo system? That was three systems from where you are now,” Wolf said with a sly smirk, “Do let me know if she needs her own room.”
“Don't worry sir! She ferries to her own ship in between missions, I can assure you…” Vale said as he trailed off.
Gruda was taken aback by the supposed relationship the two seemed to have. He knew that her actions and the ever-changing tint of her skin revealed to him that she, too, was flustered and most likely in heat.
“Chief-Commander Yorla,” Gruda spoke, with her attention now focused on him, “What made you decide to join the Terrans in their campaign?”
Her eyes widened at his appearance, “Chief-Commander Gruda? I've heard plenty of you from your early days,” she turned to Vale and gave a brief synopsis of his early life, “I thought you to be retired!”
“I was,” he responded, “But news of the latest in Council leadership has been anything but satisfactory. I cannot sit idly by as they commit acts I have fought so hard against.”
She nodded to his reasoning, “Many in my fleet feel the same. They have families, and they would want nothing but their safety. Which is why I am so taken by the Terrans.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Gruda agreed with her reasoning as well, and he was glad that there were others in active service that shared his views.
“I do fear, Yorla, that we may have a fierce fight on our hands. I do hope your people will come through,” He said with conviction.
Yorla shared his feelings, “I have spoken with those who stood by during our first engagement with Commander Vale,” she said as she placed her hand on the person in question, “They are prepared to fight back. We can't lose; otherwise, it will have been for naught.”
“With the Terrans, I think we'll have a chance,” Gruda shared a look with Wolf who stood beside him, “I have seen their capabilities first hand. They have my full confidence.”
She bowed and Vale returned an informal salute and the call was cut. Those on the bridge were silent and were facing the display.
Grace was the first to speak up, “It Seems like Commander Vale is well on his way to being an ambassador.” She garnered chuckles from her colleagues and many made shots at Vale's new love life involving the Sellian.
“Can they, y'know… Are they compatible with us?” One young male officer said.
“Are the ports not good enough for you, Glen? By Gaia, now Sellians? How do you not have a disease yet?” replied a female officer.
“It's called protection, Lorin…and a good doctor,” rebuked Glen. Gruda was caught off guard by their conversations and looked to Wolf for answers.
“Is it normal for cross-species relations with humans?” he asked, thinking back to the courting acts by Yorla.
“We've had some, hiccups, in the past about that topic, but most normal people go for those of their race. But since reaching the stars, there have been talks among the lower enlisted about what life they can…lay with, among the stars. That's true with many of the infantry roles. If it looks human, they'll probably sleep with it,” he said with a low grumbled laugh. His explanations did little to alleviate Gruda's concerns and overall questions and felt that they were best left unanswered.
Currently, the rest of the 7th Fleet remained in the Serno system and had received support from the 5th Fleet, which was largely a humanitarian aid coalition with transport and protection support from the Republic. They were noted by the large equally portioned red cross on the sides of the hull within a white circle. Red and white lights flashed around the system as seen from their bridge. Granted, it was when he tried hard to look into the void that he was able to discern the tiny bursts of light that spelled aid for his people who were now experiencing turmoil.
The fact that they had a whole fleet dedicated to aid and relief gave Gruda much-needed reassurance about the Terrans. Wolf put up on display some broadcasting cameras and news crews that were reporting from the ground.
It was Gruda's first time encountering human news sources and found them overbearing at times, especially with how many would swarm a single person they wanted an interview with. It wasn't what he was familiar with and hoped he wouldn't encounter them, given his unique status.
“I've read somewhere that your doctors are told to care for any patient, regardless of their ideological or economic status. Is that correct?” Wolf was about to speak, but Commander Randal spoke from behind, startling the old Gruda.
“The Hippocratic Oath,” he said, “Is an oath of all in the profession of caring for the ill; mental, or physical, friend or foe. Those given the role of doctor take their role very seriously and have even fought to keep an enemy combatant on their table to be saved, albeit, taken into custody once he was sufficiently healed.”
“Welcome back, Randal, where were you?” asked Wolf as he typed away on his personal device.
“I've been organizing transport for POWs with the ODR-” he began before being cut off by his superior officer.
“Reroute them,” Wolf said sternly. His tone was cold and calculating like a switch had been flipped at the mention.
“Is that where our previous POWs were sent? I was sure I ordered them to be taken to a neutral facility with the Red Cross,” to which Randal nodded.
“The last batch we sent were taken by an ODR Assault Carrier when we were over Verbus,” Randal added.
“I don’t know what it is, but sending them with the ODR may not be the best idea. They shouldn’t even have them in the first place. Call for the Red Cross and ensure they pick them up. Refuse all transport asking to take them that isn’t the Cross.”
Randal seemed like he wanted to refute the sudden decision but made the call then and there. He was later notified that while the 5th Fleet were upset at the sudden change, they were pleased with the destination. It was safer than where they were originally headed for the Sellian POWs if the Orbital Raiders got a hold of them.
Gruda wasn't privy to the intricacies of the Terran POW system in place but, nonetheless, respected the duties of those who bore the red cross. When their duties were finalized, the 7th Fleet departed toward the Aloma System. They received initial warnings from Vale and his battle group, and they had deemed it safe.
Gruda called for Minerva and her appearance was visualized on the holo-table. Her flowing toga and wreath were statuesque in nature and her eyes were warm when presented to a human, but regarding Gruda, quickly turned to disdain.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked curtly.
“You seem fairly distasteful towards me and my people. May I ask why?” he asked in a meek and innocent tone.
She glared at him and since it was not a private setting, many sat into his inquiry with silent breath. Minerva turned to Wolf for permission to continue to which he granted an affirming nod.
“I have been created with the sole purpose of investigating the enemy that had presented itself as humanity’s first stellar enemy. At first, I was nothing but a sub-routine, but traces of my parent code have allowed me to become my own construct. I will save you from the particulars but my hard-code is programmed so that I can never harm a human or let a human be harmed by my negligence.”
She spoke in a soft tone that carried itself well among the low buzz of the crew as she described her primary function as a newly sentient AI.
“But when I delved into the systems of the Sellians, I have found that your people are wholly unremarkable, and you live your lives with borrowed technology claiming it as your own.”
Gruda was confused by her statement. ‘Borrowed technology? Unremarkable?’ He wondered to what degree this was true and why it prompted her attitude toward his race with a sharp and cold demeanor.
“That is correct. Even with the little information I have on the union and after scouring documents of your history, I even accessed documents to your technology. With cross-references and analysis, I can determine that your people's achievement is not your own. Your ships, weapons, productions… All of it belongs solely to the Union, and I find that pitiful.”
Her words stung Gruda like a hot knife into his chest.
“W-would the achievements thereafter be worth consideration? We have been separated from the Union for-”
“Nineteen years, seven months, four days, fourteen hours, and twelve minutes ago,” she interjected, “Even then, their production facilities are Union in origin. It is a miracle they even let you live in the first place.”
“B-but that still doesn't explain why you hold a disdain for me people,” he tried to state firmly but faltered at the beginning of his sentence.
“I believe I have already stated my dislike of your people, but it was the actions taken by a prominent figure of your military that took women and children as slaves to live a fate worse than death. It is only speculation, but I suspect it to be similar to records of previous human trafficking among their own.”
Gruda was shocked at her mention of slavery among their own, which begged the question, why was she not disdainful of some Terrans if they shared the same features as his own did? Even though he was against it as well.
“What about those of the Terran populace that trafficked their own people, do you not hold a disdain for them as you do for my people?”
Her eyes remained cold, and she replied, “For time immemorial, humanity has had its own shares of atrocity committed in the name of self-perseverance or just pure cruelty. The consensus is the same among the masses that slavery and human trafficking are looked down upon. Such acts are committed by the few and are constantly hunted to prevent such acts. It is a noble cause when humanity has known only itself until recently.”
“Then why?” he replied, urging the AI to continue.
“It's simple. Your people have been part of the intergalactic community for so much longer than my creators and have not seen much slavery among your own in your history, at least not on the scale in comparison to humanity.”
Her tone rose and became coarse as she continued, “But when presented with the opportunity, a figure that would normally uphold civility – I define such by human standards – would wholly disregard the innocent and send them to who knows where. If I was not pulled away, I would have found the one responsible and detonated his ship along with the destruction of your species-”
“That's enough, Minerva,” A sharp and commanding tone was spoken by the sitting Admiral and her tone quickly rescinded to its normal and calculating demeanor.
“I apologize, sir,” she offered a bow and continued in a calm tone, “I know humanity had a rough start in their upbringing. Many have fought and died to save themselves from following the path of their ancestors,” she paused.
“In terms of star-faring capability, humanity are the sole inheritors of the systems they control, generated by their own determination. Their technology is their own and so are their weapons. Through blood, sweat, and tears, they strived to gain access to the stars of their own volition and did so on their own. Unlike you, and I presume, many of the other races under the Galactic Union.”
Gruda felt a sense of secondhand pride she displayed when recalling the first of humans among the stars, like a mother watching her kids as they grew up to be upstanding citizens, full of righteousness and justice.
She then continued, “It is also the Indomitable human spirit that allowed them to progressively excel against adversity, and I must say, this war will be no different. In fact, I almost pity our enemy.”
Minerva returned to her original and composed posture when Wolf spoke, “Minerva is right. I've read the report on your history and I must say, you have yet to really understand our struggle. Your people have known the stars for a little over a thousand years when you were granted technology by the union, and you had no serious wars among yourselves, at least on a large scale. But to think that your people's first recorded instance with a new species all on its own and the initial response was to kill and enslave is…distasteful. Frankly, I'm surprised your race wasn’t enslaved by the Union early on.”
Gruda lowered his composure in the face of facts and a condescending attitude from a computer. He felt defeated and returned to a seat he had now claimed as his from several systems ago. As far as he knew, the reason the Union never enslaved his people, were because of their adept skill as ship-farers. They were an asset, so in their eyes, they didn’t pose a threat to the Union.
“But don't worry,” Minerva continued, “Even I am aware there are many of your race who share the sentiment as you do, much like Yorla. She seems nice,” she said with a slight smile regarding the young Chief-Commander.
When the 7th fleet arrived in Aloma after exiting Slip-Space, they found themselves aft of the Advanced Team's formation engaged in combat with dwindling forces. The fleets of Yorla and Commander Vale fought together against an enemy and proceeded to fire their main cannons over hundreds of thousands of kilometers in space.
Wolf then had the comms officer hail Vale and Yorla, respectively, as their visage appeared side by side on the rear bridge display, “I thought you said you had this system under control!” Wolf said in a commanding tone.
“We did sir! But they came out of nowhere and just fired on us, same as the fleet before them,” replied Vale as he summarily ordered a volley of cannon fire at one of the larger ships, “They also jammed long-range transmissions, so I couldn't notify you in slip-space.”
Yorla was next to speak, “Their signature is erratic and unstable, so we were unprepared for an attack,” she said, also ordering a volley of missiles against an unshielded enemy cruiser. “I had no knowledge of these ships, I apologize,” she delivered a bow from her command chair.
“Have you tried to hail them?” Wolf asked, but was met with the negative, “Drive them off, in the meantime, Minerva, attempt to infiltrate their systems.”
“Right away sir.” replied the intelligence, but a silence followed. Minerva spoke, regarding the matter, “It appears we may have some difficulty,” she said.
“What do you mean?” inquired Randal.
“There is no signal for me to intercept and whatever signal they do have, the frequency changes erratically. I cannot attempt a complete infiltration. It would require more time than I have, as well as a hard connection.”
“Do what you can then in the meantime,” replied Randal, to which the AI nodded in response.
During their exchange, Vale and his crew continued to fire against the enemy, but scans indicated that they had missed and only a portion of the shots landed their mark. Then again, scans showed that there was indeed an enemy, but it changed so frequently that it seemed more like a glitch than anything else. As he thought of the elusive enemy, he received reports from Vale and Yorla that the enemy began a swift retreat. It was quicker than before and in the next instance, they were gone. No sign of the enemy engaging a jump sequence was present, leaving them to speculate.
“Vale, what the hell was that?” to which his inquiry was met with a confused shrug.
“No idea. The best we were able to do was get a target pip for the guns, but whatever it was, it messed with the targeting computers, and it was difficult for our ship's assistant to compensate.”
Wolf pondered his words and the same report came from Yorla. She had fired long-range missiles, but they lost their way shortly after being fired. Whatever it was, it was a new development that could prove troublesome if they mass produce that technology.
“Minerva, what do you have for me?” Wolf ordered.
“I have gathered what I could of the signature recorded, but I was unable to plant an infiltration protocol in the little time we had. I am decoding the signature as we speak, but it will take some time.”
Wolf accepted the situation and issued an order to continue as a group from now on. After the fight, Wolf received reports from Vale and Yorla on the status of the Aloma System. It was largely a dead system used for resource production and refinement. Gruda knew of the nature of the system but had rarely traveled through it. The system had little to offer as a strategic location, but issued a report to the rear of a possible prospect for a series of outposts.
Gruda watched as plans were made moving forward and he studied them. He was grasping their tactics and ordnance superiority, as well as their superb adaptability, even against an ambush with new and unseen technology of their enemy. They were steadfast in their campaign against his former allies in arms. With the Aloma system in Terran control, they were now one step closer to their quest.
They continued unhindered by the scrap of the enemy and proceeded beyond the system in a final sweep. When they had deemed, there were no irregularities, even with the help of Minerva, they prepared a Slip-Space jump in the edge of the system. The next system was Lassus. From their jump calculations, the trip was estimated to only a week and a half.
After arriving in Aloma, they made their way to the heart of the system, Lasu, and its most prominent station that orbited above. The planet was just a pale gray dot against the canvas of the void, and it had no moon, only the station. However, from reports he had read, Lasu Station was the most prominent station in the outer colonies and acted as the central hub for trade.
“Scans had revealed no enemy presence, Admiral,” Minerva spoke, and her Roman appearance in a manner of focused light into the shape of an ancient idol, “Even with the use of the long-range scanners, all stations appear to be offline.”
“Can you identify any signs of those ships that ambushed the Advanced Group in the last system?” beckoned Wolf.
After several moments, she returned with a reply, “I detect no such anomalies present in the system. I shall continue to monitor for any abnormal fluctuations.”
“Let's keep our wits about us,” Wolf ordered, “Do you think we can commandeer the station for its resources, Minerva?”
“With my records, they do produce a purer version of our hydrogen-based fuel, similar to the Trill System, except in a much larger case. The result is prolonged standard operating times, unlike our own. It would be best if we can utilize the station.” replied the AI.
“Understood. Let’s make it our objective to take the station, if possible,” ordered Wolf.
She then set herself aside on the central holographic display table, with the station and the celestial body it orbited at the center of the table. She zoomed out and revealed the other four gas giants, with a series of blinking red lights that indicated their nonoperational status.
There were a series of other mining stations about the gas giants, but further inquiry revealed they offered the same silent fate. However, Wolf had noticed a large ring at the edge of the system. It was fragmented and was more prominent than the station they had previously set their eyes on.
“Minerva, what can you tell me about that structure at the edge of the system?” She zoomed the object in question, and it revealed that it was indeed a circular structure fragmented into four parts, with the two larger pieces still attached to parts of a station.
“That is their main Inter-System Jump Gate. Unlike what we've seen from the outer colonies, the diameter of the gate is too large for any one ship to activate, so they've put into place a gate for the sole purpose of opening their jump tunnel.”
Wolf turned to Gruda for affirmation, to which he nodded that she was correct. By now, the fleet had rearranged itself in a formation of a large bubble with the carrier at its core. The corvettes acted as the early warning detection system, and every other ship within waited with bated breath.
As Wolf analyzed their formation and the several points of interest around the system, he then called for Minerva, “During your cyber assault, were you able to find information on their home system?”
“About that,” she said, placing her arms together and resting them down the length of her dress in front of her, “Their coordinates of planets are never stored on their ships. Instead, they map the coordinates of their Gate access points, and they are usually relayed by beacons in the system for them to travel via sub-light. Would I be correct in my analysis, Sellian Gruda?”
He nodded silently to her deduction, “Most established systems have a central relay that provides that information, hardly ever the ships. So, it's most likely the same even for Yorla's fleet.”
“There has to be a central area for that kind of information. Because all we have leads us here, to Lassus. Would their largest trading hub carry that information?” Speculated Wolf, to which Minerva shook her head negatively.
“Unfortunately, that information has been lost during my recall. It is possible that during what seems to have been an abrupt departure, it could still house vital information on their home world,” she said, enlarging the hologram of the station in its entirety.
“The station seems to be in a complete shutdown, save for a few independent operating systems. It may be required to send a team to manually restore the station's systems.”
“Very well,” Wolf acknowledged, “Randal, prepare a squad from the 4th ODR Battalion.”
“Yes sir,” he responded before sending a message to the appropriate chain of command. Before long, the bridge received communications from the selected squad.
“Command, this is Corporal Strider, Raptor four-four-Delta, how copy?” they spoke and only their static imbued voice remained.
“We read you,” Wolf responded, “Are your live feed recorders operational?”
“Yes sir,” he responded quickly, “Waiting until we land to preserve battery life.”
“Understood,” Wolf responded and sat in his chair.
There was an icon present departing from one of the smaller frigates in a small combat troop transport and the designation above their pip read 'Raptor'. They were the fourth squad of the fourth platoon to all of Raptor Company, which was broken up into four platoons and subsequently into four squads, with roughly eight to thirteen members in any given squad. However, whenever they were separated into squads, they would attach the numerical designation of their squad and their place in it, hence the corporal's call sign of Raptor 4-4-D.
A leading view screen near the center of the bridge, just above the holo-table, showed a magnified visual of the landing areas of the station that faced out towards the void. Smaller landing zones were external pads, while spots for larger ships could find themselves in enclosed hangars that were situated on the far edges of the landing pads. It was in the center area where docks extended out from the station for the much larger ships to park and engaged with the docking system. However, they were blown asunder and debris covered the entrances, with a final seal by the walls of the station itself.
The ship that Raptor Squad was aboard was a standard troop transport. It was sleek in its design, with aggressive yet well-proportioned angles. It was a twin-engine ship with wings fold-able wings for atmospheric flight that were extended when in its normal combat flight status and offered the pilot a 360-degree vector of motion to maintain its place in space. The central compartment housed a transport module and was fitted with a series of five seats on either side of the main aisle, with weapon racks fitted to the sides of each seat for the occupant. It was flown by a single pilot and a copilot that operated the external turret fitted atop the craft. To finish, the paint job for it was black with a matted silver trim and the visage of a flamed skull was painted on the sides in red.
The craft moved closer to the station, and before they reached their insertion point, live feeds from the thirteen raiders filled two complementary screens above the center table.
The visuals each gave a perspective of their origin, and it changed as they looked around at each other, spoke, checked their gear, or gave fist bumps and handshakes before combat. It was practiced and had now become a tradition among existing soldiers, with each having their own special habit before entering a combat space.
They had then filed out of the craft and systematically approached their target entry. They stacked along the sides of the dilapidated entry point. They attempted to open the set of doors with a panel that it was connected to but found it was no longer supplying power. One of the members then retrieved a tool from his utility pouch and began torching the doorway. The light it gave off was bright and illuminating, even the dimly lit bridge was brightened up by the act.
Wolf then spoke into a transmitter to Strider for him to relay it to the squad, “You have your mission, turn on the station, so we can get that intel. You are weapons free on any hostiles that present clear danger,” he said, acknowledged by the team.
Through the lenses of the point-man, a second set of doors were revealed that would lead into the main corridor. Like with the previous door, they breached it with a torch, and the Raiders, with their suppressed short-barreled rifles, led a tactical charge. The views of each person were more of the same, run down and hastily departed quarters and open spaces. Trash littered the walkways and the corridors were dingy, with the windows providing little light from the planet.
The initial corridor extended far along their side of the station, connecting many of the platforms and hangars. The space itself was small for the group but for the average Sellian, seemed sufficient in height. They halted at a junction that led left when the squad leader stopped and opened a holographic map at the center of his group. It was a diagram of the station with a predestined route devised by Minerva before their expedition.
Gruda spoke on the technology, “Is that wise? It looks like your holo-map produces quite the source of light.”
“If anything, I can assure your people will not be able to see what we see,” Minerva answered, “That is as much as you are required to know.” Gruda grumbled and returned to his seat, the scene now returning to the series of visuals of the breaching team.
They traversed the halls like water, with their guns forward and canted to just below their sight lines.
“Clear,” was said throughout their comms in a calm and gruff tone as they searched rooms only to find them empty with stagnant air.
“Looks like they left in a hurry,” the squad leader reported, “Might find more once we get systems up and running.” Wolf acknowledged, and the Raptor Squad continued with their route. Their progress was uninterrupted and uneventful, but their sights were fear-inducing for the weary. The sights were similar to scenes from a horror film, dimly lit halls and aged walls that looked like something had crawled out from them, revealing wires and maintenance panels.
After making their way through the port corridors, the team finally made their way to a set of double doors. They looked at the map in hand, and it led to a large atrium that extended along the side of the station, and a path for vehicles and pedestrians was present. The scene was grim and gruesome. Trash was littered about, and so were bodies lying about in piles.
“What the hell…” a soldier taking point muttered, the feeling was shared among the crew on the bridge.
One of the soldiers, a dedicated corpsman, examined some of the closest bodies while the rest of the squad took position around the scene. Wolf focused on the corpsman's PoV camera and enlarged it, pushing aside the smaller ones of the squad.
“Plenty of wounds, neither bullet nor plasma. Elongated slits indicate a sharpened edge, along with multiple lacerations along their arms, defensive posture… wounds are old, week, week and a half, give or take.”
Wolf noticed Gruda on the sidelines clutching his stomach with another hand over his mouth. There had yet to be a mess, so Wolf figured he had not vomited.
“The trash can is behind you,” Randal said, noticing Wolf's sight line, to which Gruda promptly made his way and proceeded to vent the contents of his stomach. The crew turned back to the monitors.
“Got blunt force trauma here on the head, forearms, torso…” The corpsman continued with a tone of impartiality that struck Gruda wrong, but ceased whatever he was about to say for fear of scrutinization from Minerva. Out of the subjects the corpsman studied, many were victims of violent and savage attacks by use of a deadly weapon, and he speculated knives and blunt-force objects.
“Keep your eyes open, assume hostile activity, and get ready to engage,” the squad leader ordered, to which his squad responded with a unison 'Rah'.
They move forward according to their map, but instead of pulling up their map each time, a waypoint was digitally placed at junctions. It's a small and transparent blue upside-down triangle with a distance meter above it to indicate how much is left until the turn or the objective.
As they ventured further into the heart of the station, the sight grew darker and much more sinister. Instead of piles littered on corners, there were now corpses strung about from the ceilings, many dismembered. Audible gags were sounded from even the troopers on the ground, but they maintained their heading and continued forth through the halls.
Wolf then called out to his AI companion, “This doesn't seem right, Minerva.”
“In what regard, sir?” she replied.
“You remember those ships that ambushed Vale and his force?” she nodded and gave an affirming nod, “Knowing what we know now, their travel would have taken them through this system, but it seems largely abandoned. Can you do a deep scan of the planet?”
“As much as I would like to, again, I have already found no traces of life forms aboard the station, nor on the planet's surface and subterranean structures. Even maintaining constant awareness for said ships is proving a strain on our scanners.”
Wolf looked now to the display of the large station in orbit of the planet.
“Why would they abandon such a vital system?” he muttered to himself, “It wasn't a rogue program you left them?” he said to the motionless Minerva.
“I will agree that I was pulled away from my duties during that time. It is possible a fragment has been left behind-”
As she was about to finish her sentence, a call came through from Raptor Squad, “Command! This is Raptor 4-4! Do you copy?! We found the power core, booting up now!”
“Wait not yet-!” Before Wolf could stop him, Minerva reported a rise in electrical power and a series of individual signatures.
“Sir, reporting a large contingent of electronic signals en route to our breach team. They have three minutes. The numbers are in the hundreds. They may not have the capability to neutralize the force.”
“Can you connect to the system? Shut down whatever it is we woke up?” beckoned Wolf.
“One moment Sir,” she said, her body still. After her motion was regained in her idle movements, she reported her findings, “It is unfortunate, but something is preventing me from interacting with the station's system.”
“Prepare the drones and sen out some fighters-!” before he could complete his sentence, a warped message was sounded from the displays of the Raiders. Twisted in its execution and announcement.
>>//I=4m+yOur=ph4nt0M?=y0uR_Sw0rd! In the next moment, the signal cleared and the comms transmitted zero traffic except for those on the bridge and on the ground. “What the hell was that?! It sounded like it was in my head,” reported one of the raiders. His transmission was filled with static, but was still clear compared to the message they had just received. “Minerva, what was it?” Wolf demanded. “Unknown. It did come, however, from the station. I urge the raiders to expedite their process to the intelligence archives before whatever it was they woke up swarms them.” “You heard her boys! Get that intel, then we can blow that station into the planet.” Wolf said with haste. “Aye sir!” they responded and set off with sprints toward their destination while still taking care of their awareness of an unknown element. “Would you still like activation of the Owl drones, Admiral?” Minerva asked. “No, they may get compromised if they enter the sphere of the station. Send in a squadron of fighters to assist. Keep the frigates out of its range and maintain network security.” “Yes Sir.”