CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Luring the Admirals to the outer reaches was more blind fortune than the culmination of any calculated scheme. Deep within the core of Accrakos, the Cybel twins had spent the better part of a century reuniting the keystones. Their irresistible call grew ever louder, coaxing the Levantikar from their aimless wandering, awakening those that lay dormant in endless slumber. It was a lure the incessantly curious minds of the galactic government couldn't resist, ordering both Indra and Gesa to the outer reaches to investigate the mythical sighting. Though removing the Admirals from the picture allowed the great work to proceed unimpeded, Volka was not so naive as to think their fated meeting would not soon be upon them. The two remaining heads of the Hydra would fall as prophesied, and in their place, the King will rise.
For the majority of his career, Admiral Indra had been perpetually absent from most regular Naval duties. He had taken it upon himself to expand the reach of the Government into previously uncharted territory, combing the mysteries of the unknown to discover new life. His most fervent desire was to provide humanity with fresh hope. A new home. Pestilent decay had been eroding the galaxy for millennia, countless Edens reduced into uninhabitable wastes. When the pollution, famine, and disease grew too unbearable, the populations of these doomed worlds retreated into the stars. For a time, the age of steller exploration was embraced and even relished by some. However, over the decades, their satisfaction dwindled and unrest festered in their hearts. Floating through the endless void had worn the once adventurous spirit of man into a weathered shell. They yearned to dig their toes into the sand as waves lapped at their heels. A longing for what they had squandered, the paradise worlds they had plundered to ruin. Regret lit a fire under the galaxy's denizens and Indra stepped forward to champion their ideals, a shepherd to salvation. Rather than engaging in the war against piracy that preoccupied his peers, he would sail in search of hope. A second chance.
Gesa had no such desire. The Dios Toro was the galaxy’s great defender. A ship that appeared impervious to damage and one of the few vessels to remain standing after the Eureka calamity. It was with the aid of this mighty vessel that she had singlehandedly guarded the three prison facilities since her ascension to Admiral; Kaligan's escape being the only stain on an otherwise unspoiled record. It was only through misguided orders, the threat of encroaching Levantikar, that had seen her abandon her post, allowing the pirates to conduct their assault. After receiving word of the Bassalark's attack on the Hyacinth, she began her arduous journey back to her station. Here, in the depths of the hive, she waited for the coming storm. Today, that storm had bellowed its arrival and the entire galaxy was shaken in its wake.
Kaligan was motionless; only the dim glow of the dashboard lighting separated him from absolute darkness. He clutched at the control levers, sweat gathering at his temples. Golden strands of oily hair stuck to his brow, hiding his fear in the gloom. Ranna and Tugg were still locked below deck, blissfully unaware of the unfolding situation. The Pirate-Lord had terrified Soran since their first encounter. Even seeing his severed head frozen in Cryo-stasis had done little to still his trepidation. This was the first time Soran had seen him vulnerable, almost human. The color had drained from his face, his artificial limbs tense with apprehension.
The Siren shared in Kaligans hesitance. The arrival of the immense Naval vessel had slowed Maldreska's advance to a crawl. The matte black hull of the Dios Toro provided a diffuse reflection, almost blending it with the blackened abyss in which it dwelt. Scimitar-like lances peeled from the flanks, feigning the appearance of a horned beast. Nestled between them, protruding from the bow, was an unknown weapon of immense magnitude; its bottomless barrel extending deep into the ship's core. Admiral Gesa's vessel was mired in controversy. Rumors amongst those that dare speculate on such topics tell tales of planetary annihilation, whole systems reduced to ash. Not a soul dare speak its true name for fear it would appear and make of them what it had of so many others.
Without warning, the shadow-veiled craft surged forward. Particles of light began to coalesce at the apex of the cannon. A bright tip smoldered at its center, bathing the horn-like blades in a shimmering display of might. Kaligan's expression soured with each passing moment. This wasn’t part of the plan.
It wasn’t what Volka had prepared him for, for what he had promised. Kaligan was the aggressor, the one who fired first. The one who watched his enemies sink to their doom. Yet, here he was, staring into the eyes of defeat for the second time at the hands of an Admiral. There was nothing he could do. Teege’s ship was nothing more than a glorified scouting vessel and despite her formidable offensive capability, Maldreska could offer little support. Though it pained him to admit, the Dios Toro stood leagues beyond even his beloved Gallowmare.
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“It would seem the prophecies were mere children's stories after all boy. Our encounter with Elyssia's gates is to remain only a dream.” Kaligan mused to Soran, cracking his knuckles as he awaited the impact.
We’re finally going to die.
Soran knew it was dumb luck their ride had lasted this long. Death is never shy, a glance or two may be permitted to a fortunate few, allowed to leave with their lives intact; but for those overzealous admirers that stare too long, her gaze becomes unbreakable and she will take what is rightfully hers.
Sorans eyes were locked in, imprisoned by the cold finality of it all. He was done running from reality. Lanic’s tale would go untold. His mentor's legacy would remain in tatters, and the brave stand of defiance in the Basslark's last moments would never leave the boy's lips.
He closed his eyes, his mind transporting him back to the warm underbelly of the Hyacinth. A familiar backdrop heaving pistons and idle chatter filled him with the warmth only home could provide. The steamy breath of old pipes mingled with bizarre smells wafting up from the umbra market, tempting his aching stomach with the promise of a warm bowl. For a place he had longed to escape, the station inundated his subconscious. Whenever he needed to fill the ever-growing cracks in his life, he thought of home, of the soothing fables his mentor would recount after a hard day's work. He had been living his dream all along, he just didn't know it.
Shocked to life, the sensors of Teege's ship flashed in warning. Kaligan’s eyes widened as one by one the radar detected incoming ships. A handful of small vessels trickled into view, the residue of pulse travel trailing behind them like fluorescent tails of light. Before long, a gathering had formed around them, dozens of ships blinking in from the dark. Wave upon wave of incoming craft assembled over the Hive, forming a barrier between the Pirate-Lords and Admiral Gesa.
“This cannot be.” Muttered Kaligan under his breath. His eyes filled with a hope that burned away the sorrow in an instant. This was what Volka had promised.
When the time comes, our cause will be undeniable.
The words echoed through Kaligan's mind. Ships from every corner of the galaxy were flying the pirate colors high; each declaring solidarity with the great work. Every pirate crew, militia, and gang of bounty hunters had heard the news. The government had fallen and the time of free men was now. What was once a fringe cause, prophetic dogma espoused by fanatics was now a reality. For those that wished to partake, new alliances would have to be forged. A new era was dawning and today, the lines would be drawn.
A barrage of lethal plasma exploded from the Dios Toro, tearing a rift in the wall of new arrivals. In an instant, the darkness succumbed to a devastating flash, scattering the pirate armada in all directions. Gesa's weapon was not purposed with injuring her foes, it was a device with a singular purpose, annihilation. In the aftermath, no wreckage could be discerned; nothing remained but dust.
To the Admiral's displeasure, retaliation was swift and relentless. All surviving aggressors unloaded their weaponry, bombarding the Dios Toro with all available munitions. Although showing no visible signs of damage, the Naval vessel was severely outnumbered, facing down a constantly replenishing stream of reinforcements, arriving to replace their eviscerated comrades.
Kaligan took the chaos as an opportunity, slamming the control levers and taking his ship into a nosedive.
“Our time is now.” He yelped. Maneuvering through the rabble of warring vessels, he plotted a beeline to the Hive gate.
His actions did not go unnoticed. Gesa already had multiple cannon heads locked onto his position, anticipating the winding path of his trajectory. Bursts of plasma were sent hurtling toward him, a wall of destruction. A floating theatre of stained glass spires dived in the path of Teege's ship, taking the brunt of the intended attack to her starboard hull. Maldreska showed no hesitation in protecting Kaligan, his task of the utmost importance.
Through the chaos of battle, Kaligan emerged. Teege's ship had taken only minor damage from a few stray rounds and all vital systems remained functional. Along with his prisoners, the Pirate-Lord had survived the ordeal, sailing free of the battleground and onward to destiny.
Soran's hands trembled in shock, his breaths short and frantic. Although nothing new for the battle-worn pirate, the boy had never experienced an encounter of this scale. The sheer force of the conflict was enough to overwhelm even the most seasoned of generals.
As they approached the Hive's docking station, the blare of security alarms was deafening. The familiar crimson radiance of emergency lighting flooded through the cockpit's viewing portal. Soran’s eyes were drawn to the glare he knew so well, his heart filled with the fear that accompanied it, smothering him in an unwelcome embrace. The Hive revolt had begun.