Prologue:
Drifting in space aimlessly.
Alone.
Adrift.
Forgotten.
Stranded in the inter-galactic void.
Nearby, a mere thousand light years away, a star burnt brightly, one of just a handful out here.
The ship, far more ancient than anything seen today, was a relic from long forgotten time.
Even those who lived in the galaxy knew nothing of the race, finding only a few scattered artefacts.
But today, a bright point of light was rushing towards them. It is moving at phenomenal speeds, far exceeding the speed of light..
The Jikara Navigator emerged from Phase Space very close to the relic. The pilot, a young Vasari scout, knew instantly he had discovered something amazing.
The drifting ship dwarfed his tiny vessel- and it had been enlarged greatly as part of the jump preparations.
It was obviously a battleship of some sort- with powerful looking weapons bristling everywhere, a thick hull and an imposing design, what else could it be?
He reached for the Phasic transmitter.
This was excellent news.
Chapter 1.
TEC controlled space.
TEC Capital.
Solust.
A flight of bombers thundered across the pale mauve afternoon sky. The triple rising of the moons signalled the end of another glorious day.
The Solust system, the ancient capital of any galactic empire it seemed, seemed relatively quiet and unassuming, considering its galactic importance. Especially when you considered how many thousands of systems obeyed the orders from here.
But the aliens had showed their omnipotence, their advancement.
In those terrifying first days, their veritable armada had hit the local capitals, the most populous worlds and any other site of strategic importance. The crippling blows had sent them reeling, taking them months to try and even present something reminiscent of a defence.
How did he know this?
He had seen it first hand, from the very beginning. He’d been there, at Formatis, a sector capital on the fringes of the galaxy.
One of the first places to feel the wrath of the alien invasion. One of the first to be culled.
******
Formatis.
Ten years prior.
Peaceful.
Pacifist.
Unwarlike.
Passive almost.
These were the words used to describe the Trade Order back then. Back when the Alluxide dynasty was still in power, helping spread peace and prosperity to as many systems as they could.
The terran, bucolic paradise on the far rim of the galaxy. It was a local capital and a major trading hub.
Was.
Formatis today was a volcanic, stripped bare planet, the entire population culled like primitive farming animals.
So much death and devestation.
The world, now a mere backdrop against the magnificent view of stars and galaxies, slowly grew smaller as the carrier slowly drew away, then disappeared completely as the ship jumped to Phase Space.
Relaxing in the hangar, tinkering with his fighter, Jon knew nothing of the view.
Space was now less of a majestic view and more of a battlefield to him.
At thirty-two, he’d seen his fair share of fighting.
Pirates, rebels, even an uprising of an entire sector. He’d seen it, experienced it and destroyed a fair bit.
His face, relatively smooth and unblemished, did not bare the signs of a war so visibly as it did on some.
But it was there.
Hard to notice, but you could see it in his eyes.
Jon had killed many, blown them to pieces, destroyed ships with hundreds aboard.
Such was life. This was his life, the path he had chosen. Where most shirked from battle, from death, from war as a whole, he had been one of the scarce few who had joined the Trade Militia, a barely formal, “official” force that defended the planets from those who would disturb the peace.
The carrier exited Phase Space close to Formatis. The bucolic world was quietly bustling with trade ships, the system never truly sleeping.
The sun was rising from their angle, brilliant rays streaking across the horizon.
Civilized.
A testament of their glory.
Done with his maintenance, Jon prep’d the fighter for a short hop around the system.
Grabbing two wingmen, he flew out of the hangar on a quick joy ride.
The view was even more amazing from the view of a cockpit. The sprawling city, the star-speckled backdrop, the two moons racing each other around the planet.
“Heraklies, this is Escort Leader Canaris.”
“Go ahead.”
“Retrofits are complete, we are ready for our next patrol.
“Hows the Vino? She took a battering last time.”
“All good” a new voice chirped out. “Structural integrity optimal, hull repairs all done.”
Jon (correctly) assumed that the new voices belonged to the helmsmen of each respective escort frigate that had been assigned to them.
The two small frigates were leaving the spaceport now, pulling away from the planet to meet the Heraklies.
Both had patched and mismatched hulls, losing the seamless, professional look. But, like most ships of the Trade Militia, they were long overdue for retirement and suffering from an insignificant budget.
They really were a militia, a far cry from a real military.
Above the planet, more Phase Space windows opened- a group of them, significant ones. They were opening very close to the planet as well- a normal ship would have been torn apart.
Black, imposing- alien. They were just different, far larger than anything he had seen. Enough to house thousands- and there dozens of the ships.
An entire fleet, exiting just above the planet.
Smaller ships emerged too- almost on par with their escorts. But these ships were much more advanced, much more deadly.
The front half was gently slanted, faint coloured lines stretching across the hull. A tube- for a lack of a better term- rippled with metal rings- not much thinner than the front, connected the front with the engines at the rear.
Most spread out over the planet, but one of the giant ships- making his fighter look more insignificant than a gnat to an elephant- and a small cohort of the alien frigates broke off and headed for them.
“God they’re fast-“
“Heraklies, please advise?” Jon transmitted, throttling down and watching the alien ships soar past. The sheer, smooth black hull was incredibly close. The alien capital ship- it was so big it was clearly of that class- roared past, and Jon turned in the cockpit to see the two aging frigates tentatively edging forwards.
They sent out a broadcast on every frequency- “This is Trade Militia-“
The aliens opened fire.
Brilliantly coloured bursts of energy fire shot out form the ships, missiles firing off. A flight of alien fighters flew out of a small hangar bay on the underside, dodging and weaving around the ships.
Before Jon could realize it, they were weaving in and around the frigates- coming at them from every direction- Jon gunned the engines , his wingmen following suit a moment later.
One lagged for a brief moment, hesitating- and the alien fighters tore it up with vicious energy beams.
It exploded, the atmosphere venting suddenly, the fuel detonating- the hapless pilot died mercifully quick.
Jon swooped down among the alien frigates, their mighty capital ship firing salvo after salvo of brilliant purple missiles at the doomed escorts. The capital was longer than it was wide, the tip separating in two, like a tuning fork. The missile batteries were attached a bit behind midships. It must have lacked anti-fighter weaponry- Jon and his following wingman came as close as they dared, and only sporadic fire from the alien fighters flashed past his cockpit.
“They’re gaining on us Jon...” his sole wingman radioed.
“I can see that Fillis!” he barked back.
They flew under the capital ship, doggedly pursued by the fighters.
Jon pulled up, following the curvature of the ship. As soon as they were clear of the underside, he led them in a dead straight path for the Heraklies.
They raced across the void of space, dodging the aliens fire. Strange weapons fire whipped past them- like orange balls of energy almost- and smashed into the escorts. The Heraklies shield flickered as a few stray shots missed the Vino.
Suddenly, the Canaris’ shield collapsed, the alien shots piercing the hull with ease.
It exploded, all the lives aboard perishing instantly.
The two fighters raced past the destroyed ship, swooping in on the Heraklies.
Behind them, the Vidos exploded in similar fashion. The alien forces surged forward, firing on the carrier.
It began to move, just as Jon and Fillis swooped in.
The alien fighters dispersed, dodging around the shield.
In a last, fleeting glimpse of the planet, he saw the very surface of the planet being sucked up by the alien invaders.
Everyone on the planet was surely dead.
Chapter 2:
That was ten years earlier.
Ten years of non-stop war, of death and destruction, of whole planets being vaporized by an incomprehensible alien force. War a previously unseen scale.
He hadn’t seen his home planet once in that ten year period.
Not once.
It was the same for other first generation veterans; those who from the original Trade Militia or those who enlisted in those dark early days. They never got the cycle home. They were always at the front.
Still, he thought darkly, it wasn’t the worst thing- far worse to see your home planet. Because that meant that it was on the front line; and invariably came under attack. And considering defeat meant the systematic and unstoppable genocide of the entire planets population, and the harvesting of their resources until it was barren rock... It was better to have ones home in the relative safety behind the lines. Many a soldier had crumbled under the crushing thoughts that everyone they had ever known, everything that had seen, was now wiped from existence by an alien that wanted nothing, it seemed, but their annihilation.
But the outlook was starting to look better. The alien front was slowly stabilizing; defeat was no longer a matter of when and more if. In some sections, they even advanced.
Advance to shattered and barren planets, husks of their former glory. In that sense, it was harder to advance than defend.
But whether they advanced, retreated or held the line- the death and destruction continued.
Jon was no longer a pilot- he was now the commander of the TDN Argonev; a mighty Kol Battleship. But he was still going to be in the thick of it. Already, they were undergoing a refit after their last battle, as they prepared to hold the line against an alien attack.
A new, experimental forcefield was being installed, ready for the next mission. Hopefully, their shields would be better resistant against the alien missiles, which had a nasty habit of ignoring their shields completely.
Despite an increasingly positive outlook, he was no more happy for it- he did not relish his job, he did it out of duty. It was the way it had always been, and always be. This war was too violent, too far-reaching to allow feelings to interfere.
The massive battleship detached from the space dock, engines powering up as they pulled away from Solust. The metal jungle of the orbital factory fell behind them as they fled the unrelenting grip of the planets gravity.
Their escorts moved down from above the planet, moving into position behind the Argonev.
It was no insignificant force- two twenty strong wings of Cobalt light frigates, and one of Javelis long range frigates.
“Prepare for Phase Jump” his navigator transmitted to the fleet, from her position at the fore of the bridge.
Before them, a shimmering and static blue field generated. It took a moment to completely generate- by which stage the light blue field became interlaced with bolts of yellow and more rarely green. It looked very much unstable, with the flickering and the pulsing.
The navigator watched the system checks go green systematically.
“Anti-matter core is stable, power core is calm, shields are hold-“
“Ensign.” “Yes sir?”
“Just jump already.”
“Yes sir!”
Jon settled into his seat, the navigator abandoning the formality of her first jump in the Argonev.
“Standby for jump.”
The blue field enveloped them, the Argonev lurching forward at incredible speeds.
They were away.
Argonev in the lead, the fleet emerged from the Phase Space.
Into a massive battle.
An alien fleet was trying to penetrate the two defensive permitters’ set up around an arctic world and a scarred volcanic world. The latter was principally a stationary line, populated by defensive platforms that were seeing off the few alien frigates that tried to attack the planet. The former had a full battle fleet with a ring of defensive platforms and hangar bays hung in low orbit.
Just beyond the volcanic planet, a bright green star illuminated the otherwise dark space.
“Open a channel with the defenders” Jon ordered as the fleet accelerated to the icy outer planet.
“I have them sir, Read Admiral Lycas is leading the defensive fleet.”
Manipulating the buttons on his armchair, he linked into the channel.
“Commander, your timing is impeccable. The alien fleet is attempting to outflank us and I haven’t the ships to spare to try and stop it. The defensive plans are holding bravely, but I fear they cannot last much longer. Both sides are being turned, reinforce both.”
“All right. I’m sending a wing of Cobalts and a wing of Javelis to hold the right flank, and I’ll hold the line with the Argonev and the other Cobalt wing on the other side.”
On command, they broke off and separated to the flanks.
The arctic planet was a mosaic of light blue and white- only a fraction of which would have been settled, so harsh was the environment.
A stark contrast to the natural, but deadly, beauty of the colony, the ships of both sides cluttered in low orbit in a brutal fight.
As Lycas had informed them, the alien fleet was trying to roll up the left and right flanks and crush the main fleet as it fought it out on the dark side of the ice planet.
Bulky Gauss Defense Platforms hung motionless in orbit, keeping the enemy at bay for now.
But their valiant defense was not without casualty- lacking shields, they were being slowly pulled apart by a combination of missiles and beam weapons.
As Jon directed the Argonev down into position between the enemy and the planet, one Platform was sheared in two as a beam sliced straight up its middle.
Both halves plummeted back down to the planet, illuminating the thick stormy sky with twin streaks of fire as they burned up on re-entry.
The Argonev shuddered as the first of the barrage impacted the shields.
A sole alien capital ship bore down on them, with a quartet of smaller, but still deadly, cruisers. Beyond them, a set of ten sleek and angular frigates fired missile upon missile into the fray.
The alien capital ship was not of the same class as the one he had fought at Formatis; rather it consisted of a central angular prism- with soft edges and a gentle pattern of white lights and black hull. Linked to this was a more harsh and hardened pair of rectangular guards. Somewhat like medieval shields, held horizontal; except these had weapons ports on them, from which energized death sprayed forth.
“Priority fire on the enemy cruisers” Jon ordered.
Huddling at the underbelly of their bigger comrade, they fired deadly energy waves at the terran battle group. Powerful and stocky; they pounded the Argonev and its escorts. Jon flinched as one of the Cobalts detonated, turning from combat ship to discarded scrap metal in moments as the shields collapsed. The frigates were surely overpowered in this fight.
“Deploy bombers to deal with the long range frigates- how are the shields holding?”
“Slowly weakening. The hull is compromised at three separate locations; those missiles are playing havoc with our shields still.”
“Damnit! Bring the ship around and ready the rail gun for fire.”
The mammoth Kol Battleship pivoted in space, no longer presenting a broad side, but rather the deadly bow of the ship to their foes. The compromised sections were shielded from further damage, while most of their batteries were fully capable of turning to fire forward. They suffered no major loss of damage output- in fact, they gained a great deal, as the powerful beam arrays were now brought to bear.
Orange beams raked across the cruisers’ shields, highlighting them as a soft, faintly visible bubble surrounding the vessel. The impact points condensed and took on a more opaque appearance as the shields stopped the beams from passing.
Their own shield was more starkly highlighted, as it bore the brunt of enemy fire, flickering from the powerful energy weapons. Purple missiles exploded brilliantly against the shields- some passing straight through, ignoring the barrier as if it was not even there- scorching and damaging the armoured hull beneath it.
From within the deep bowels of the ship, fuelled by the independent, secondary power source- the antimatter core- the railgun slowly came to life.
The rails of the tube went cherry red as they became charged with incredible amounts of energy.
At the very core, sparks flew from the mighty solid slug to the rails.
A moment after that, the railgun activated and the slug was flung from the ship at speeds almost comparable to that of light.
It completely ignored the target cruisers shields.
Doomed as it was, it fired a final volley before the dense, armoured ship crumpled inwards upon impact, killing the crew and rendering it inoperable. A second after that, the slug burst through the far side and out into the void of space.
“Target is confirmed disabled!”
“Reload the railgun and target the next cruiser. Focus all fire on it.”
“Aye aye sir.”
Laser bolts, flak bursts and mighty beams of energy flickered out from the valiant defenders. The second cruiser saved them a railgun slug as its shields collapsed, and it hobbled away, leaking atmosphere.
“Railgun loaded!”
“Aim for the next cruiser.”
In the distance, Jon could see the alien and TEC fighters duelling around the missile frigates, as their bombers attempted to do a run on the enemy.
Incredible dog fighting, dodging and rolling as those horrific alien fighters sent beams every which way and that.
Piloting one of these TEC fighters was Flight Sergeant Lucile Doperman.
Deadly and sleek, the curved wing alien fighters slid around the sharp corners with apparent ease.
Her less nimble, but better armed and armoured, fighter tried to evade them, while the fast firing forward railgun chewed up any alien fighters who she got on their tail.
She swooped down over one of the alien frigates, the hull mere meters from here fragile fighter. It resembled something of a bizarre boat, with long tubes attached to the bottom of the super structure. These shot out brilliant purple missiles, which hurtled down to the battlegroup.
More acid green beams tried to slice her in two, as she curved into the wide open expanse of the interior of the frigate, evading their fire for a brief moment.
Her intercom was full of chatter- as the brutal dogfight played out.
“Gold Leader; we’ve are covering your run, you are clea-“
“Thank you Red Leader.”
“There’s one on my six! I can’t shake it!”
She chipped in here- still evading her own pursuers.
“Idle-3, calm down and pull down to the first frigate-“
“What, are you nuts? This thing is right on my as-“
“I wasn’t asking.”
“Yes Idle-Leader.”
Idle-3 stopped dodging and made a beeline for the first frigate, momentarily getting a getting away from his pursuers.
But the fighter was dogged in his pursuit and dived after him, the superior craft running him down.
A second fighter sensed prey and broke off to chase after him as well.
“Pull inside the superstructure!”
“The shields-“
“Are disabled for some reason, just do it!”
Idle-3 did so, and his alien aggressors raced after him- right as Lucile shot up in Idle-3s exhaust, her own pursuers chasing close behind.
An instant after she passed behind Idle-3, the two separate groups collided. They veered away as they crossed paths, the leaders scraping wings and being sent spinning, while the wingmen swerved away at the last moment.
All four lost tract of both their prey and the larger battle as a whole.
“Get out of here!” Lucile barked, Idle-3 raced out, her fighter close behind.
“This is Gold Leader, first missiles are away.”
The alien frigate exploded in a ball of fire and energy.
Along with the fighters still inside the open structure.
Gold Squadron soared down the lane of targets, easy pickings with the alien fighters otherwise engaged.
The dogfight continued, now in their favour as they had a numerical advantage with Red Squadron free from escort duties. Lucile chased down the survivors, showing them the same amount of mercy as they themselves had been shown.
She dropped onto the tail of one fighter and splintered in into pieces under sustained fire.
Two more tried to dodge away- only to be hunted down like sparrows by an eagle.
The frigates meanwhile, exploded one by one, none moving away from the obvious threat.
“You’d think they’d try and run.”
“They must’ve disabled their engines- or taken previous battle damage I suppose.”
As Gold Squadron finished off the final frigate, it alone tried to escape the danger, reactivating their engines at the last moment, only to be pounded by the powerful missiles until it broke apart.
“All squadrons, fall back to the Argonev.”
“Yes Flight Commander.” Lucile transmitted.
The trio of squadrons flew down from their elevated position, watching the battle unfold.
The Argonev had taken some serious damage, one whole beam emitter having being vaporized, and the hull scorched and damaged in numerous places.
Many of the escorts were either destroyed or crippled.
As Lucile flew into the hangar, she got a brief glimpse of another Cobalt exploding as the energy waves overwhelmed the shields- hardly a quarter of the original compliment remained.
Yet the aliens had taken heavy casualties as well, only a single cruiser remained, listing and damaged to boot.
As she pulled into the hanger, the final cruiser exploded violently from the force of the lasers pounding its hull.
Against the obsidian black backdrop of space, the sudden surge of light was blinding.
Gold Squadron docked first, the heavy bombers dwarfing their smaller kin.
“Oh my god, look at that ship-“
Lucile twisted in her seat to catch a glimpse of the alien vessel-as the whole thing energized.
Rings of faint light rippled down the width of the ship- and it trip[led its barrage, the Argonev listing slightly from the sheer force of the barrage that now sprayed forth- exposing the hangar to a pelting.
Missiles, energy waves, beams and pulses- all rained down on the exposed flank- and the jutting out hangar was a prime target.
The shots sheared straight through the hull as the shield failed- detonating the ammo and fuel-
The entire hangar became a firestorm, emergency protocol forcing them to seal it from the rest of the ship as the missiles started exploded, breaching the fuel cells- and then the entire hangar vanished in a horrible chain reaction. The blinding flash faded quickly- to reveal the hangar, save for a few still attached shards, was gone.
Lucile, her squadron had been the last to dock, but it proved cold comfort- they got to see the hangar first burn, then explode, their comrades dying before them- prior to the shockwave tearing them apart.
Keep it coming dude. Going good so far
Totally forgot about this thread. Glad to hear its not terrible. I got sidetracked with another story (non sins based) http://www.fictionpress.com/s/3042145/1/Alien-Menace
Ill get back on this, i had another ch written, but had writers block after that.
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