Echoes of Harmony

SF-17 Starhawk

Stariek Orbit

22 November 3296

Lieutenant Fischer couldn’t believe his eyes as the Celestial Phoenix still stood after the explosion of Master Three. The massive carrier took the blow on the chin—at least, if the blow was one that caved in the entire mandible. A large chunk of the carrier mixed with the debris of the Conta as it was picked up by the gravity well of the planet. Most of its hangar bays were destroyed. Some were completely eviscerated and exposed to vacuum while others were blocked by thousands of tons of metal. What was most amazing, though, was the fact the ship remained at all.

<Alpha One to Celestial Phoenix,> Fischer called out over the general channel. <Requesting orders. Most of my fighters are nearly winchester, so I don’t know how much more good we can be out here.>

<Alpha One, this is Celestial Phoenix actual,> came the voice of Admiral Elliott Hayes. He sounded ragged and tired, and the feeling emanated through the CAM. <We are working on repairs and the ability to accept landings, but that’s at least an hour and a half out. Send those most damaged or vulnerable to Hangar F, and we’ll see what we can do. The rest of you need to stay out there or find another landing spot.>

Fischer checked his missile stores. During a typical engagement, they would have the opportunity to rearm if needed, though this was not frequent. Unfortunately, this engagement was anything but typical. He was down to his last two Hunter missiles. The overlay of his squadron showed another five between the three others, with Gamma Three having replaced Alpha Three. He also noted the low hull and shield integrity of Gamma Three.

<Lieutenant Stewart, get back to home base,> he called out over the Alpha Squadron channel. She started to issue a rebuttal before he cut her off, <You’re damaged and more likely to experience further harm in a continued fight. Go home, get repaired, and come back once you’re in tip-top shape.>

<Yes, sir,> came the dutiful reply as the tactical overlay showed Gamma Three veering off.

Fischer brought his Starhawk around, bringing it to a stop as he faced the rest of the fleet with his back to the carrier. The line of ships was mostly uninterrupted, though large sections of debris had carried between their ranks. Just another obstacle in a dogfight.

An explosion filled the viewport, the glass once more automatically dimming to save his vision. The SSV Bishop disappeared in a fireball. Nothing was left but a rapidly expanding field of debris. He stared in shock as neutron beams lashed out from the defense satellites, not at the Hyperion vessels, but at the Stariek ones. Magnetic cannon rounds the size of footballs created a dense field, like a swarm of mosquitoes, moving at a significant fraction of the speed of light. They tore through several of the ships, leaving gouts of flame before bulkheads automatically sealed hull breaches.

Another explosion showed the Adder disappearing from the battlefield before the Stariek ships started separating. Some lazily returned fire. These ones seemed to draw the Zorn of the satellites, which focused them. In short order, two more ships, the Defiant and the Falcon, were left as wreckages, their hulls ripped to shreds and venting atmosphere from dozens of breaches.

<Alpha One to anyone,> Fischer said, pushing his throttle to max. Bahr and Burns followed behind him. <What the hell is going on?>

<Alpha One, this is Celestial Phoenix actual, we need you and the other Snow Wyverns to destroy the nearest satellites at once. They are no longer under our control. I repeat, destroy the nearest satellites at once.>

Fischer’s heart sank at the implication. Their guardians, what were supposed to be their saviors, instead turned into a harbinger of death against them. They could tear the rest of the fleet to shreds with ease.

<Copy, Celestial Phoenix actual. We’re moving in.> He switched to the Snow Wyverns channel. <Alright, listen up. We’re taking down those satellites and saving the rest of the fleet. Move in together and try not to get killed.>

Pushing his craft to the limit once again, Fischer felt the now too familiar force as the inertial dampeners could not overcome the acceleration of the Starhawk. Never had he experienced such an intense, extended period of constant combat before.

The other two fighters with him followed close behind, Bahr off his left wing and Burns off his right. They rocketed towards the nearest satellite, redesignated Master Seven. Fischer watched the overlay projected through his CAM as the targeting reticle lined up with the satellite. Its magnetic cannons and neutron beams still focused on lashing out at the larger frigates and cruisers, ignoring the smaller fighters. Once the reticle turned green, a thought was all it took to launch one of his last two missiles.

<Alpha One, fox two,> he called out.

He followed up with his neutron cannons just as the other two did. The pale blue beams of light stabbed out into the void. Most missed, disappearing as they ran out of energy, but enough hit to bring down its shields. The missile sped towards the satellite, ramming into the thick outer hull and detonating. A brief fireball consumed the satellite, and it was quickly replaced by nothing but a field of debris.

<Nice one,> Bahr called out as they arced off towards the next satellite. <One down, another bajillion to go.>

Fischer managed a weak smile but didn’t reply. His tactical overlay showed another ship destroyed, the Traveler. If they didn’t do something soon, there wouldn’t be a fleet left to defend. He pushed the thought aside and focused on the next satellite as he sped towards it.

Always one thing after another, he thought. His mind went back to the other night at Stone’s, and the image Burns took came to the forefront of his memory. Little did he know that was indeed the last time they would all be together.

#

Hallow Building

Mornage, Stariek

“Status report, fleet marshal?” Hayden said, his voice an emotionless monotone. The roller coaster of emotions that was the conference room somehow managed to dive deeper and deeper. When the first vessels started disappearing off the tactical board projected above the table, they thought it was a malfunction. Then as more joined it, they realized something was wrong. A report from the Bastion told them they missed the Hyperions installing a backdoor into the satellites.

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“Five ships have been lost so far, bringing our total losses to eleven. What fleet that remains is destroying the satellites and creating a safety net for themselves, though this is slow going. It seems the fighters are small enough to avoid detection, but it doesn’t help they desperately need to rearm on a carrier with only a quarter of the hangar bays it normally has.”

As Tyn spoke, Hayden did the math in his head, putting an average of two thousand soldiers on each. Add in just as many for those that died when the Celestial Phoenix rammed the Conta, and that put casualties already over twenty thousand, quickly approaching thirty. All lost on my watch.

Then his mind returned to the images of Epinau, the twisted metal, the bodies covered in boils from radiation. Tens of millions of people, wiped out in the blink of an eye. He could have prevented it all, could have stopped it before it started. Instead, he went with his own pride above the safety of his people despite arguing the opposite.

Hayden rubbed his hands over his face, sighing heavily. The others watched him carefully, wondering what his next orders were. He surprised even himself with his next words.

“Get me a connection with General Zorn.”

“Sir, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rivas asked. The two admirals nodded their agreement with the secretary. She glared at Tyn, who ignored it. “While I did not think it was a good idea for us to fight to begin with, we are too deep in now. If we give up, they’ll execute us all.”

“Not necessarily,” Hayden said. He rested his hands on the table and idly tapped his fingers. “Have you ever heard of escalation of commitment, secretary? It states that humans have a tendency, when facing increasingly negative outcomes from their actions, to double down on their mistakes, continuing their destructive behavior rather than altering it. We keep fighting, nothing happens but more people die. We give up now, there is a chance for people to survive.”

“There is no guarantee of that,” Rivas hissed. She narrowed her eyes on him. “They could round us all up and kill everyone on the planet. We need to stop them now.”

“For once, I agree with the secretary,” Tyn said, folding his hands in front of him. Even Rivas had a shocked look on her face. “If we surrender now, it spits on the bodies of all those who have already died. The soldiers up there in orbit, they have lost thousands of brothers and sisters whom they fought alongside. Giving up now sends the message their deaths don’t matter. We have to fight back.”

“And how do we do that?” Hayden tried to keep his voice calm and level but failed. He slammed a fist against the table with a resounding clang. “We tried fighting. We took out one of their cruisers. Look where it got us!”

He gestured to the tactical board where another dot, the twelfth since the engagement began, blinked out.

“Nearly half our fleet destroyed, an entire city annihilated, and all we have to show for it is the destruction of one of their lousy cruisers. Need I remind you taking it down nearly lost us the Celestial Phoenix? If we don’t give up now, there won’t be a planet to save anymore. So, as I said, get me a connection with the Hyperion general.” The others stared at him with blank expressions on their faces. After several seconds of no one moving, he added, “That is an order.”

Tyn sighed and typed in a series of commands to the holoprojector. A couple of agonizingly long moments later, General Augusta Zorn appeared above the center of the table. A smug grin dominated the bottom half of his face.

“Provost Reid, how can I help you?” The man clasped his hands in front of him. “I hear you are very busy, so I feel honored you were able to take the time out of your day to talk to little old me.”

“Save it, general,” Hayden snapped. With the words, he became acutely aware of the fact all eyes in the room were on him. Let them stare. The blood of millions isn’t on their hands. “You know exactly why I called. I need to do what I can to save my people. Turn off the satellites, and let’s talk conditions.”

“Now, that is not very friendly.” Zorn tutted and shook his head, though the smile remained. “You act as if this is all my fault. I gave you the opportunity to avoid this needless bloodshed. You refused. Don’t you dare cast all the blame on me.”

“Damn it, I am not playing games.” Hayden resisted the urge to raise his voice. “We surrender. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Now, let’s talk terms and get this over with.”

“Very well. I will deactivate the satellites. Once done, your fleet will have five minutes to disarm their weapons and turn off their shields. If they refuse or fail to do so within that time limit, they will be destroyed. Is that clear?” When Hayden nodded, Zorn continued, “I will arrange a transport to pick you up and bring you to my flagship within fifteen minutes to talk my conditions. I would head down to the surface, but it seems your security is failing you, and I do not wish to end up another statistic.”

The feed cut without giving Hayden a chance to reply. He turned to Rivas with a concerned look.

“What does he mean my security is failing?”

She shook her head as she glanced down at her tablet, swiping through different pages. Finally, she stopped, her brow furrowed. After a moment, she looked up.

“The protesters have broken into the building. They’re on their way up.”

#

Frostwing Estate

Llewellyn Mountains outside Mornage

Omega deftly set his transport shuttle down on a hill overlooking the provost’s estate two kilometers away. He had viewed the files of Frostwing nearly one hundred times on the way to the planet, and the pictures within matched those he now experienced for himself. It was a gated, three building compound surrounded by a five meter wall. To his right was a large garage with six bays each capable of storing anything from a helicar to a personal shuttle. The left was guest and guard accommodations. Both of these buildings matched one another, each about fifteen meters tall with walls constructed of wood logs native to Stariek. The roof, as well as the interior of the walls, were made from a metal compound imbued with nanotechnology for self-healing and extra durability. However, neither of these two were his target.

The main building, which sat at the far side of a driveway accented by a large fountain, was in the shape of a squished ‘V’. It formed an obtuse angle, with either end just a few meters away from the other two buildings. Dominating the front was a staircase curving around to the left and right before meeting in the center at the door.

The door which was blasted off its hinges.

Omega scanned the compound, his optical sensors magnifying the distant features. There was a surprising lack of guards. Not a single patrol was visible. However, at the front gate, he noticed a few drops of blood in the snow. A spectroscopic analysis revealed more of the same hidden under piles around the wall.

Near the center of the driveway, there was a faint trace of scorch marks in the concrete. Four of them in a rectangular shape indicated them to be from some sort of shuttle lifting off. As he looked over the scene, he switched between different wavelength views, one of which revealed the faint and fading trail of engines rising into the air.

He was fifteen minutes too late. Glancing to the sky, he could see the path the shuttle followed, but no other sign of it remained. A subroutine extrapolated a scenario based on what it had seen: the Hyperions sent a shuttle full of an assault team, killed the guards, and kidnapped—possibly killed—the other occupants of the estate. Once their mission was accomplished, the craft took off back into the atmosphere.

As per his programming, he opened a secure communication channel with Alpha back on the Liberator. The image of the man—his creator—appeared within Omega’s virtual workspace dedicated for such a task.

<Creator, the compound has been compromised,> Omega said, standing completely still. <I have arrived fifteen minutes too late to rescue the child.>

<Our sensors indicate the shuttle is on a course to the Wagener, Omega,> the Creator replied. He glanced away from the source of the video for a moment. An analysis indicated he was looking at different scanner reports. This was confirmed when he continued, <It’s already too late to retrieve the boy before he arrives in their hangar bay. So, change of plans. The Hallow Building is under attack by protesters, and they have breached the walls. Are you able to rescue him instead?>

<How far have the protesters ascended the building, Creator?> As Omega asked the question, he retrieved a blueprint of the several-hundred story building. A mass of steadily moving red dots near the bottom indicated the protesters within.

<No more than a dozen floors so far, but they’re increasing rapidly. You have maybe half an hour before they reach him, which is about the same amount of time before the Hyperion shuttle arrives.>

<Very well, Creator. It shall be done.>

Omega closed the workspace and returned to the shuttle. After an abbreviated preflight checklist, the ship gracefully lifted into the air and soared in the direction of Mornage.

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