Born of Ash and Iron — Chapter 5
COMMONWEALTH CRUISER ‘Snow’ PILOTHOUSE
/ / SO6_v-prk · Somari Six / /
“Mister Wiseman, prepare for subspace egress. Exit at coordinates S-Theta-Alpha, directly beneath the Ess-Oh-Eight south axis. Take us below the pole, into the axial void. Initiate phase shift on my mark,” Captain Hammer Stole ordered through his translator, keenly aware of Admiral Fisker’s gaze upon his work.
Hammer was one of the few Cartolangious in the Admiral’s task force. One fewer with the loss of Bogavine. Hammer watched his own crew tear through the remains of his friend. They feasted with grotesque smiles, and their famished gnashing made his stomach turn. They had turned on Bogavine with such unsettling ease, as though they'd forgotten that the bits of flesh between their teeth belonged to a fellow soldier. Bitterness soured the captain's stomach. He refrained from the disgusting display of a meal and instead spent his time in the mess hall marking each and every set of teeth, one by one, as a note. Hammer reserved a special place on his list for the Admiral. Fisker’s feast would not go unpunished.
Hammer knew he would be executed for it… or worse. Cartolangious were a lower species in the former Confederacy standings, and, as such, were now a lower species in the Commonwealth. In some respects, the change was in the government's name only. Hammer's kind were still second class. More than expendable. They were consumable.
Despite their status, Cartolangious were natural hunters and their tactical minds made them perfect soldiers. Their military ranks exceeded their social standing, but it was moments like the one with Bogavine that reminded Hammer that it could all end in an instant.
“Coordinates set, Captain,” Able Helmsman Wiseman reported. Samuel Wiseman was one of the crew members who had taken seconds of Bogavine. Three of them had been playing Lion’s Head in the mess the evening before, and Wiseman was still flicking flakes of Bogavine off of his uniform.
“Very good, Mister Wiseman." Turning to the video pickup, Hammer addressed the Flag Bridge. “Admiral, we have our course plotted and are ready to dive.”
“Understood, Captain,” the Admiral replied with a nonchalant tone. Hammer ignored the view screen of the Admiral in an attempt to disguise his festering hatred. Fisker carried on with the procedures as if on auto-pilot, whilst the crew let Bogavine rest in their collective bellies. Hammer held back the brackish bile festering in his throat.
“Master-at-arms,” the Admiral addressed an officer on the Flag Bridge. “Send the detonation codes for the scuttling charges.”
Hammer heard a hoot and a jeer as several display screens showed a high orbit observation drone’s view of the repair yard as the explosive charges along the roof detonated, followed by the charges on the support pylons.
The entire structure crumpled in on itself in a heap on the planet's surface. A voice, filtered through electromagnetic interference, said, “Kilo actual, this is Gallows actual, confirmed enemy base has been neutralized.”
Hammer clicked on his translator to reply to his Marine Colonel, “Gallows actual, good copy. LIMAS are on standby for exfil.” Hammer said, referring to the light attack craft they were leaving to patrol the planet.
“Roger that Kilo actual, good hunting.”
TWO WORLDS REPUBLIC SHIP ‘Hound’
/ / SO8.iv_o-sply · Somari Eight / /
Volm struggled to his feet. The fire retardant coating on the walls had saved the structure below, but it had bubbled and charred as it was designed to. The texture of the interior, mixed with the fading effects of experiencing Patakin’s panicked death, sickened Volm.
Experiencing death through the link was always jarring, and Volm struggled to steady his feet under the fragile structure. His comlink was vibrating, echoes of shock from the explosion, fire, and the breaking digital connections. “Report,” he said, finally managing the earpiece around the ridge running the side of his face against his right ear.
The pause spoke volumes to the chaos reigning on the bridge. For a moment, there was just the ringing in his ears, then a harsh crackle as the signal split through the noise.
“Commodore, this is Lieutenant Green, sir. Crescent’s oxygen system blew, sparking an airburst through our berthing deck. Ignited the whole thing!”
“Officer country burned up too,” Volm replied, moving forward in the dim emergency lights. An errant spark briefly blinded his milky eyes. “D.C. priority?” Volm asked
“Damage Control is headed to Crescent; she’s a dead stick.”
Volm reached forward to the next airtight hatch, feeling around for the oxygen meter. Both sides still glowed fluorescent green for pressure. He pressed one of his thumbs hard, and the hard clank of the hatch hissed. The opening equalized the lighter oxygen in the burned-up compartment.
Alkora stood on the other side, emergency lights flanking his shoulders, giving him a dark silhouette. “Volm,” he cried, as he reached out to support his friend.
“Ack –” Volm’s involuntary wail shocked Alkora as Volm’s weight crashed into him. “I took Crewman Patakin into the black.”
Alkora had never personally accompanied anyone into death, but his father had been a holy man. He knew the strain it could take on a Declanian. He had no idea how carrying a non-Declanian into death would react.
Alkora guided Volm to the deck, and even in his shocked state, Volm recognized Alkora doing the same movements he’d made for Patakin.
He lifted Volm’s hand and interlocked fingers. The gesture, to many species a romantic one, was a brotherly bonding affection to Declanian’s.
Volm’s eyes met Alkora’s, and his heart beat slowed to sync with Alkora’s, combining into a perfect rhythm. “You are my brother, in life and death,” Alkora vowed.
“In life… and death,” Volm echoed. Releasing their hands, they could still feel a primordial connection, as if their thoughts were communicating, moving as one.
Connected to each other, it seemed as if they could see deeper into the universe. The rupture of subspace growing, somewhere far out of view, sent a tingle of electricity down their spines. In unison, they proclaimed, “They’re coming,” even as the housing of the klaxon began to warm, adding its alert to the cacophony.
COMMONWEALTH CRUISER ‘Snow’ FLAG BRIDGE
/ / SO8_v-udw · Somari Eight / /
The jolt of the subspace drive shuttering so quickly after they had dived was a new sensation for Fisker. As an Admiral, he was not one to travel for pleasure, and the navy had never sent him between planets in the same system with a subspace dive.
“Tactical is picking up all three destroyers docked airlock-to-airlock on the station,” one of the scanwell technicians announced.
“That’s how they did it,” Fisker grumbled. “So we only saw a single silhouette.”
Prime Lieutenant Obo held out a data pad for the Admiral. “Sir, I don’t think they intended it. We seem to have caught them flatfooted.”
Clicking open the communication screen with the bridge, Fisker turned his attention to the bulky Cartolangious in command of the ship, “Captain Hammer, best possible speed to the supply station.”
“Understood, Admiral,” the man replied in his deep baritone. “My plot is already showing they are blowing seals and moving—”
“-We see that too, Hammer,” Fisker’s Exec replied. “My scanwell is assuming they rabbit for the rings to hide their energy signature.”
Fisker nodded to his Prime Lieutenant, “Exec, send the destroyers ahead.” Turning back to the pickup, Fisker continued, “Captain Hammer, I am sending the destroyers ahead to begin saturating their retreat with missiles.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Hammer replied. “We are ramping up full military power, we should be full throttle to pursuit in twenty minutes.”
Admiral Fisker silently kicked himself for trying the southern pole exit a second time. The surprise had worked at the battle of Somari 6, but this time either the opposing admiral had out-guessed him or had taken more damage than Fisker had anticipated.
“Exec, I want a nice even spread on the destroyers, if they try to rabbit around the rings, I want to cut them off.”
TWO WORLDS REPUBLIC SHIP ‘Hound’
/ / SO8.iv_o-sply · Somari Eight / /
Volm could feel every vibration of the ship as he stepped onto the bridge.
The textured surfaces felt exaggerated as his senses were in stereo with Alkora. He didn’t even have to call his friend's name; the man was already at his side, handing him the plot calculator pad.
“Thank you, Ack,” Volm said. He didn’t need to; Alkora could feel his appreciation, but even linked together, it felt like the proper response—besides, nobody else on the bridge was merged.
“What’s the status of Crescent?”
Looking up from the control board, an enlisted officer shook their lean head, pinkish flesh tendrils smacking slightly against their face. “Totally disabled, sir.” Their species' androgynous race all spoke in low, flat, slow bass voices. “Anyone past the blown ox system will run outta oxygen and suffocate.”
Volm winced; he had already lost so many crew. “Commander Jea, call back our damage control team, and prepare to break the tether.”
“Aye, sir,” Jea replied, moving towards the aft hatch.
“How much time do you need to separate?”
“Ten minutes,” Jea replied as she spun open the hatch. I’m headed to Damage Control Central. We’ll recover as many of the Crescent’s crew in that time as we can.”
“Lieutenant Green,” Volm said, drawing his Third-Lieutenant’s attention. “I need you to link firing control with Firestorm. I want every missile we have to saturate that oncoming larboard destroyer.”
“We’ll pick’m off one-by-one, aye sir,” Green replied, pressing the comm mic to his face.
“Tech Sergeant Chen,” Volm called to his electronics warfare officer. “I want as many scramblers and electro-countermeasure balls downrange, and cover Crescent as long as we can.”
“Aye, sir,” Chen replied as she switched back to her control board. Peering through her station's viewscope, she began the daunting task of programming and counterprogramming electronics warfare.
While artificial bots assisted in the quick access programming, biological operators usually made the final decisions.
Volm looked about the command deck, standing at the center with his best friend across from him and the buzz of a hive all around.
He was a conductor of death.
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