CHAPTER FORTY
Forged out of twelve
Whole they are one
To open the eye
Of the blackened sun
Written eons ago in a dead language by a nameless prophet only to be swallowed by history and forgotten. The inscription was discovered inscribed on the wall of a buried temple on a long-abandoned world and is believed by scholars to refer to the Levantikar. The etchings encircled a symbol which many assumed represented a sun or some other celestial body. Surrounding the circular etching were depictions of twelve serpents, each swallowing the tail of that in front. Over the many millennia of recorded history, countless prophecies and explanations for their existence had been theorized. Each new interpretation was more unhinged than the last. The religious regarded them as guardians, created by God to oversee the universe, keeping their judgemental eyes focused on the goings-on of ordinary folk. Others fancied them more as destroyers in waiting. Biding their time until doomsday, then swallowing the planet's whole until nothing remained but dying stars. Until recently, thousands of years had passed without a sighting and so the creatures were stowed away. Assigned to myth and legend, used to scare misbehaving children along with tales of the fearsome Pirate King.
Denial of their existence had now become an impossibility. Half of the galaxy had witnessed them in their full terrifying splendor.
These inexplicable events had brought forth a slew of fresh, unanswerable queries. The people had been shaken by the mythical occurrences, unable to separate what was and was not real. As news spread of Accrakos’s destruction, a veil of panic blanketed the entire system.
With the Levantikar’s sudden appearance, Hail and his remaining fleet were forced to flee the area. The unpredictability of a creature that size was astronomical and Hail couldn't afford to have it flailing around anywhere near their ships. Retreating to HQ and regrouping with the rest of the Armada was his only option. After the destruction of Accrakos, his suspicion of Cybel involvement almost certainly had teeth. Long-range scans of the remnants showed no sign of the Basilica and only around a hundred synthetic entities were registered and Hail struggled against the notion that was chasing a ghost.
A wide berth was kept by all Noche Protega personnel as they scurried by the door of Admiral Hail’s quarters. Humidity choked the entire level, forcing the workers to endure shallow, painful breaths. Heatwaves danced through the tight hallways, giving the illusion the walls were made of flowing mercury. Metallic surfaces became too hot to touch and the security tasked with guarding his room was on the verge of losing consciousness. Hail was known for his occasional outbursts, but his anger had become all-consuming. His crew feared they would be swallowed by his wrath.
The elevator doors opened with a hiss, revealing Hail's lieutenant. Before he could take his first step, a blast of scorching air hit, drying out his mouth and throat instantly. With a loosening of his collar, he soldiered on and was met with distressed looks radiating from the faces of the Admirals guards. Each balanced on his sword to prevent themselves from falling into an exhausted heap.
“News from HQ.” The lieutenant muttered in a raspy voice, desperate for water. The guards exchanged a nervous glance but stood aside to let him through.
Molten steam poured down the Admirals exposed back. His sweat-covered body glistening from the light of the white-hot metal that surrounded him. As the Lieutenant tried to address the Admiral, he discovered the inability to speak. Desperate panting replaced any semblance of discernible conversation, and after only a few seconds he fell to his knees with a thud. Hail turned to witness the pitiful display of his failing subordinate, flailing under the influence of his uncontrolled rage. The Admiral closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and holding it at its peak. The glow of the metal subsided and cool, fresh air washed away the arid atmosphere. The corpulent officer slowly pushed himself back to his feet, enjoying every sip of the cold breeze he could inhale.
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“News from HQ, Admiral Hail Sir.” He said with his voice barely audible.
“Go on.” Hail relaxed into his stool and re-lit a half-smoked cigarette butt from his ashtray.
“The Basilica has been sighted on route. Along with…” He paused, knowing the fury his next words would elicit. Hail’s eyebrows rose with expectation.
“Along with the Gallowmare Sir.” The words crept slowly from his lips in the hope they would take longer to reach the Admiral's ears.
“Nonsense. It was destroyed. I saw the wreckage myself.” Hail replied through gritted teeth.
The lieutenant's lips opened slightly but his reply retreated into his throat, frightened by the Admirals consuming glare. After a dozen uncomfortable seconds of contemplating he leaned back, expecting the impossible to be explained.
“The source of the repairs is still unknown but data suggests that another ship came to the Gallowmare’s aid. It has been suggested by HQ that…” Again he paused. This would be the third thread of bad news he had delivered to the Admiral, and he was unsure how many more he could survive.
“An assembly is taking place, Sir. Rumors of the Siren straying from the graveyard belt have surfaced. Not only that, but a fleet flying the Pirate-Lord Neraka’s banner is currently occupying the space around Station Dahlia. Although, the Insidia has yet to be picked up by our scans.”
The revelation brought Hail swiftly to his feet. Marching toward the elevator, he was trailed by the struggling Lieutenant and the two recovering guards. Something was brewing out there in the darkness. Waiting around for it to rear its malevolent head was not on Hail’s agenda.
Two decades had passed in relative peace since the Pirate-Lords last gathered. That reunion had resulted in one of the largest disasters in recorded galactic history. Untold losses of life were sustained by both sides and both the government and Navy were left with an indelible blow to their pride. Their guise as protector of the galaxy's citizens was destroyed on the day that the flagship Eureka fell.
With the Bassalark rotting in the depths of a frozen lake, only four dreadnought class vessels remained; Each wielding a devastating power that matched the Navy's own Citadel class ships. As the only Admiral on hand to deal with the unfolding situation, Hail had a difficult decision to make. With his armada currently split between defending the Golgotha and the Naval HQ, they were vulnerable. Other key locations were also at risk of attack, further complicating the matter. Probable targets were identified as the Hive prison colony and the less infamous Fort Terabus. Each harbored secrets of particular interest to the Pirate-Lords that they would be eager to retrieve.
More of a vault than a prison, Terabus contained every valuable artifact, weapon, and vessel the Navy had ever confiscated. Both locations possessed highly advanced defense systems and dedicated personnel, but with no data on the scale of the enemy's offensive capabilities, they were left to blindly strategize.
Hail strode straight past his chair, making a beeline directly to the navigations officer.
“Inform Noctei that were heading to Terabus. Send the destroyers to the Hive and inform all vessels in key locations to enter black alert. They’re coming.” For the first time, his crew could sense unease in Hails's voice. The orders were not barked or spat but delivered with the gravity that the situation required.
He paced before the viewing portal with the cold sweat of anticipation dripping from his brow. Despite the unfavorable descriptions he had prescribed to his fellow Admirals, their imminent arrival had stolen his focus. The might of the Naval armada was not truly at its peak without their ships, and he knew that to weather the coming storm, they would need everything they could muster. Without it, their end was already written.