Echoes of Harmony

Hallow Building

Mornage, Stariek

Hayden made the decision, despite his wife’s protests, to return to the Hallow Building as the conflict escalated in space. He had to navigate through a throng of protesters, many of whom threw rocks and other small objects at his armored transport, in order to enter the building. The situation, however, demanded he be there in person, not hiding behind a holoscreen. Already two of their frigates were destroyed with several of the fighters lost in combat. The death toll was only going to increase, and he hoped it would be anything short of catastrophic.

He sat around a large table in one of the upper floor conference rooms. A dozen chairs lined either side with another two at each end. Only four were filled other than his own. Those in attendance were Secretary Rivas, Admirals Wilkins and Chapman, and Fleet Marshal Tyn. A direct link was established to the Bastion’s underground analysis chamber, allowing Lieutenant Colonel Rhyse Jackson to communicate with the others.

In the center of the table was projected the same tactical board as within the Bastion, displaying the progressing battle. So it had been for the last hour as the Hyperions slowly maneuvered into position, followed by destroying two of their frigates and nearly the third. The single Hyperion vessel, the HMV Conta, handled everything Stariek could throw at it.

“Colonel Jackson, what are you doing to rectify the situation with the satellites?” Hayden asked, steepling his fingers in front of him. “Need I remind you thousands more are going to die if they are not brought back online?”

“Of course not, sir,” the colonel replied. There was an obvious look of frustration on his face. “We are doing everything we can to reestablish communications with the system, but it’s much easier said than done.”

“I don’t care if you need to get out there in a spacesuit and manually reboot them, Colonel.” Hayden glared in the direction of the man’s hologram. “We need them back, now.”

“I will make sure it is done, sir,” Jackson said through gritted teeth. “May I return to my duties?”

“Of course.” Hayden waved a hand through the air. He knew what the man really wanted to say, though the colonel knew better than to voice it aloud. “Dismissed.”

The hologram disappeared without another word.

“Sir, I understand your frustration,” Tyn said, keeping his voice low. “We were relying on those satellites to carry the day. Without them, our forces are stretched thin.”

“Not just stretched thin, Fleet Marshal. We already lost two frigates. Almost four thousand soldiers between the two, gone in the blink of an eye. Not to mention the fighters that have been destroyed.” Hayden glared at the tactical map, trying to will it to show a change for the better. “And that damn Hyperion cruiser seems to take everything we throw at it and then some.”

“We have to stop playing by our rules, sir,” Tyn said, hitting his fist on the table. “These savages fired on defenseless escape pods. Such a thing is unheard of! We have to do something to level the playing field, and playing by the book is not it.”

“I respectfully disagree.” Rivas folded her hand calmly in front of her, though her gaze sent daggers at Tyn. “If we cannot win without sacrificing our morals, our honor, is there any point in winning? We have been a model of what to do and how to do it to the galaxy. The fact the Hyperions are here now is proof we were doing something right.”

“That is the kind of attitude that will lose us the battle, our freedoms, and our lives.” Tyn scoffed and shook his head. “Sometimes we have to do what we must to survive and worry about the consequences later.”

“Then what do you propose, fleet marshal?” Rivas’ voice dripped venom.

“Our tritinium. Tests we’ve carried out show they’re particularly effective at breaching energy shields such as those around space vessels. The Hyperion’s shields are their strongest asset. We have over a thousand warheads ready for launching from ground-based silos. If we launch those and saturate the battlefield with as many regular missiles as possible, we can get them past their point defenses. We also may need to use some of our fighters as distractions for their CIWS. The more targets the Hyperion defenses have to shoot at, the better. Once their shields are down, we simply finish them off with magnetic cannons and neutron beams, which will tear through their hull like butter.”

“You propose sending men and women to their death on nothing but a hope for success?” Rivas stared at him, appalled. “Have you no heart?”

“I lost that years ago, secretary.” Tyn smiled, though the gesture held no warmth.

“Enough,” Hayden said, cutting across as Rivas opened her mouth to issue a rebuttal. “I will keep that strategy in mind but only as a last resort.”

“Sir, if I may,” Admiral Wilkins chimed in. “The cruiser, Master Three, does seem to be losing shield cohesion. Once that happens, it is just a matter of simple physics to reduce it to slag.”

“Yes, but the hard part is the ‘once that happens,’ which can be anytime between now and the start of the next century.” Hayden leaned back in his chair and cupped his face in his hands. “At this point, we might as well be slinging rocks at it for all the good our ships are doing.”

“At least the fighters were able to keep those missiles from striking the Wolf.” Admiral Chapman sat up straighter as he spoke. “If they hadn’t, we would be down another frigate.”

“Small victories, admiral,” Hayden muttered. “Let’s hope we get some bigger ones quickly. What of the protests outside the building?”

“They continue to grow, sir,” Rivas said, bringing up an exterior camera showing the front door. A sea of people spread across the entirety of the street, stretching as far as the eye could see. They pressed up against the windows and temporary barricades setup. Police—armed now with nothing but stun rounds—maintained a constant vigil. “Current estimates are fifty thousand people. There are another few million spread out around the city and others around the world. The longer this battle goes on, the larger it will grow and the more difficult it will be to contain. Fights with counterprotesters are frequently breaking out, and dozens of police have already been hurt across the planet.”

“I’m assuming they’re asking us to surrender to the Hyperions?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied simply.

“Not if I can do anything about it,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Even if they surrendered, there was no guarantee they would survive the fallout. Not to mention it would spit on the graves of all those already dead.

Seconds of silence stretched into minutes and what felt like hours. Each of them stared at the holographic tactical board, waiting for the next change as the deadly dance continued. Under the table, Hayden squeezed his hands together, the force surely turning them white. In his head, he offered another prayer, hoping for God, or any god, to finally pick it up and answer it.

#

HMV Conta

Stariek Orbit

Kiesling frowned as she continued staring at the tactical board. Those puny fighters were not only wreaking havoc on her air wing, but they destroyed every missile she sent towards Victor Twenty-three. She even ensured the point defense in the sector targeted by the missiles were disabled. What should have been a death blow to the frigate instead fizzled into nothing. A dud.

“Communications, call for the fighters to return to the hangar. There’s no point in them out there fighting a losing battle. Our cruiser may be more advanced, but they have the superiority in small craft.”

“Aye, ma’am,” the communications officer, Lieutenant Mai Holsen, responded. “General retreat has been ordered for all small craft.”

Kiesling cringed as the lieutenant used the word ‘retreat.’ She was not one to back down from a fight, but there was a method to the madness of calling for their return. Some of the Stariek fighters were sure to try to press their advantage, and the close-in weapon systems on the Conta would rip them to shreds. Then, perhaps, the playing field would be slightly more even for their fighters if they chose to return them to combat.

In the meantime, she had a frigate to destroy. Victor Twenty-three was venting atmosphere from several locations, though these quickly petered out as bulkheads cut off the supply from the rest of the ship. Victors Twenty-one and Twenty-five were moving in to help protect their stricken comrade, extending their shields. Twenty-three attempted recharging their port shields in the newfound cover.

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“Let’s do something about that. Tactical, target Victors Twenty-one and Twenty-five, neutron beams and magnetic cannons. Alternate targets with each. Keep them guessing.” She waited the typical five seconds she gave the lieutenant. “Shoot, neutron beams and magnetic cannons.”

At once, the red beams of light lashed out between the two frigates, combined with the five hundred millimeter shells. Their shields blinked rapidly with each strike. After several seconds of the onslaught, one of the neutron beams broke through the shields of Victor Twenty-five. It struck a point near the rear of the ship. Whether skill or luck, it hit something explosive, as the ship was blown in half. Both halves began launching escape pods, this time from the opposite side of the Conta.

Victor Twenty-one, though it escaped the brunt of the attack, was considerably slower. The neutron beams lancing out from the vessel were quick bursts that hardly had an effect. Either some of their electrical systems were shorted, or they wanted Kiesling to think they were. Regardless of which it was, she wasn’t leaving it to chance.

“Ready tubes one and two and fire whenever you are able, tactical.” Kiesling left off the target on purpose, knowing el-Matar would know exactly what to do with them. “Target Victor Twenty-one with another round of magnetic cannons and neutron beams. Let’s finish them off as well.”

Before the order could be carried out, the bridge shook as something hit them. A series of rumbles followed just a few seconds later, nearly jostling Kiesling from her seat. She glanced down at the shield status and found the forward starboard shields had finally failed. A grim smile came to her face. Her orders from General Zorn were clear. Better to die with honor than live with dishonor.

You lost the ability to die with honor long ago, the voice of her dead father told her. She gritted her teeth and pushed it away. Not now.

“Tactical, belay the previous order. Load tube one with a Trident missile. Make tube one ready in all respects and open outer doors. Target southern continent, largest population center. Target any and all vessels in range, neutron cannons, magnetic cannons, and tubes two through eighteen. Shoot when ready and keep firing, but save tube one until we are past their line.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. A pang of sadness went through her. She always tried to keep her crew safe, but this time it was inevitable. This time there was no alternative. “Navigation, adjust course toward Stariek. Northern continent, Mornage. Full power to engines. Communications, order any fighters not already onboard to dock on one of the other cruisers.”

No one questioned the orders. They all knew what needed to be done, and they did it with the expediency and efficiency Colonel Emma Kiesling came to expect of her subordinates. More rumbles shook the ship as the shields continued to fail. Her eyes remained firmly affixed on the viewport, watching the slowly increasing size of Stariek.

#

SF-17 Starhawk

Stariek Orbit

Fischer watched as a third frigate, the Typhoon, was ripped in half by an explosion. A gaping wound was left near the middle of the ship, showing a cross-section of the vessel as if someone had dissected it. Countless bodies and pieces of furniture floated through space. Somehow, after just a half an hour of combat, he’d grown accustomed to the sight. However, he still breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the escape pods making it away from the destruction, this time unimpeded by Master Three.

Speaking of which. He returned his attention to the frigate, whose shields were beginning to show signs of strain. Pushing his throttle as high as it would go, he brought Alpha Squadron in for a run on one of the CIWS. Their higher speed made it much more likely for the fighters to survive an attack on the guns than the bombers. That still hadn’t saved the dozen already ripped apart by the frigate’s turrets, but it wasn’t going to stop them from trying.

As one, the four fighters streaked towards the forward starboard gun and each released one of their missiles. The four rockets expelled themselves from the bottom of their wings then ignited their boosters, shooting forward. Fischer pulled up and away from the cruiser, quickly followed by the other three, as he made his way from the weapons throwing slugs at them.

Craning his neck to look out the cockpit of the Starhawk, he watched as three of the missiles impacted directly on the cannon, blowing a hole in the side of the ship where the gun used to be. He yelled with triumph and pumped his fist in the air.

<Alright, Flying Boars,> Fischer said. His voice carried a newfound optimism that was sure to spread through the other pilots. <If you’re gonna go in, now’s the time to do it. Forward starboard side is clear of CIWS.>

<Roger, Alpha Leader,> Trey replied. <I guess it’s time for us to stop faffing around. We’re moving in now. Appreciate the assist.>

The squadron of bombers flew past on a direct intercept course for Master Three. One flew so close to Fischer’s fighter, he could have reached out and touched it. The bombers formed a line and launched payload after payload, each one arcing away after releasing their armaments. A series of explosions blossomed from the impact points, slowly widening the hole in the side of the ship. Large chunks and tiny pieces of metal slag intermixed and floated away. Layers of deck, quickly sealed by bulkheads, became exposed. Gouts of flame shot from the hole as oxygen burned away before running out of fuel and dying away.

<Snow Wyverns, we’re detecting aspect changes on multiple forces,> Major Finley said through a channel to all squadrons. <Master Three appears to be on an intercept course for the planet, and the fighters are retreating. Do whatever you can to disable Master Three at all costs.>

As the major spoke, Fischer looked to his tactical overlay. Indeed, the ship had moved much closer to the Stariek line even as it took heavy hits. Sections of hull were blasted off. A trail of cooling metal was left behind it. Explosions dotted its surface. Plumes of fire shot outwards for just a few seconds before oxygen feeds were cut off. Yet, despite the damage to the structure of the ship, it continued plowing forward. No escape pods launched. Neutron beams and magnetic cannons lashed out at all nearby vessels like a lion trapped in a cage, tearing through several of the Stariek vessels.

The Wolf, already on its last legs, disappeared in another nearly blinding explosion as escape pods launched in all directions. A particular stab of pain went through Fischer’s heart. McCoy’s sacrifice was for nothing after all.

Another frigate, the SSV Liberty, lost its entire bow and stopped maneuvering after an onslaught of magnetic cannon rounds ripped into it. Both ships’ debris were picked up by the gravity well of the planet, dragging it along with the slow rotation.

Even in the few seconds he watched, more contacts appeared from Master Three. Missiles launched from its forward and aft launch systems, shooting straight out before curving and arcing towards vessels apparently at random. One, however, turned for the planet and fired its boosters, rocketing away.

<Alpha One,> Major Finley said, his voice somewhat panicked, <that missile heading for the planet is projected to impact Epinau. Sensor’s indicate it’s carrying a high concentration nuclear warhead. I’m too far out to intercept, but you guys have a chance of stopping it.>

<Yes, sir,> Fischer replied. <I’ll see what we can do.>

The lieutenant did the math in his head in the second it took him to mentally switch to a private channel.

<Alpha Squadron, there’s no way we’re going to be able to stop that missile.> Fischer pushed his throttle and afterburners to the max regardless of his words. He felt a familiar indentation forming in the seat cushion from the repeated force. <Its acceleration is too high. The only thing besides a missile that would be able to withstand that sort of force is a drone, not a human.>

<Alpha One, I’m a lot closer than you are,> Bahr replied. <I’m going to launch my own missile at it and see if that won’t put an end to it.>

Before Fischer could reply, the new contact as Bahr fired her single Aegis missile appeared on his overlay. It accelerated nearly twice as fast as the Hyperion missile. Quickly, it was beginning to overtake the nuclear device, and Fischer felt a surge of optimism well up inside.

At the last possible second, the missile juked out of the way and dropped a slurry of electronic countermeasures. The Aegis attempted to adjust course and follow but failed. After a few moments of having lost its target, the anti-ballistic missile self detonated.

<Son of a bitch!> Bahr yelled, and he could feel pain emanate through her as she surely slammed her fist against something. <Anyone have anything? Anything at all? We have to do something.>

Fischer didn’t reply. He pushed his craft beyond the redline, feeling as it started to rattle from the strain of the extended thrust. The corners of his vision began to go black with the force pushing him against the seat. Slowly, he inched his Starhawk closer and closer, lining up his shot. He would only get one chance.

<Alpha One, fox four,> Fischer called out as his targeting reticle turned green.

The Aegis took off much the same as Bahr’s, quickly catching up to the Hyperion missile as it approached the atmosphere. As before, the artificial intelligence within the nuclear warhead saturated the space behind it with electronic interference as it quickly juked to the side. This time, Fischer’s missile was able to keep up with the sudden change, tracking it move for move. The Aegis connected with the rear engine nozzle of the Hyperion missile, detonating and ripping apart the propulsion system. With a jerk, the warhead ceased acceleration.

Fischer cheered and pumped his arm, followed by a similar shout from Bahr and Burns. The feeling of elation flooded through the CAM.

Then the missile exploded. Worse yet, it split into eight smaller ones.

#

ISV Liberator

Outer Draconis System

Alpha watched the planet from the bridge of the small frigate. The ensuing fight between Stariek and the Hyperions was not entirely unexpected. Their AI calculated with a seventy-seven percent certainty Provost Hayden Reid would not give up his planet without a fight. The odds only increased as the number of Hyperion ships present in their model decreased, as could be predicted.

What was unexpected was the lengths Hyperia was going to in order to secure a victory.

Perhaps they did learn something from my lesson. Alpha felt a mixture of pride and fear at the prospect of the Hyperion methods. A shock and awe approach to taking the planet, or dying trying, was what he would do. It was what he did to Caerus just a few years ago, though without the taking the planet or dying part.

The fear came from the fact all his hard work may be for naught.

The HMV Conta being on a collision course for Mornage would ruin everything he strived to achieve. If the boy died then the coming horde would be unstoppable. There wouldn’t be enough time to find another.

As such, he turned to the only other being—if they could be called such—on the bridge. They were humanoid shaped and sized, approximately one and three quarters of a meter tall. Their skin was impossibly smooth silver, almost seeming to shift in the light. Nothing about their appearance made any assertion they were something other than a robot.

“Omega, would you retrieve the boy before the Hyperions do something stupid?” he asked of the androgynous android.

The silver robot inclined its head slightly in Alpha’s direction as he spoke.

“Of course, creator,” it replied in a musical lilt, rotating in place and marching out the door.

Alpha returned his attention to the viewport, which magnified the battle. Part of him wanted to see the resulting fireball of the Conta smashing into the crust of the planet. The thought quickly expanded to all of him. A smile formed across the bottom of his face.

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