Existential Threat: Chapter 22 Part 4 of 4 (Patreon)

Ships colors ran from grey to orange, red and final black across Haver’s boards, stations were running their colors as well.

Officers were yelling at one another, information flowed in a constant crazed stream. Haver was in the midst of it, the eye of the storm, a terrible calm over him, as if everything was happening a room over.

The biggest Armada of any space battle was being torn apart in a matte of seconds.

“Admiral! Captain Porov is requesting orders! Admiral!”

He turned to the communications officer yelling frantically, riveted on his words, her face drained of blood.

“Order them to pull back,” The words croaked out of his throat. “Sound the retreat, we must save as many ships as possible.” His voice grew strength, there were no reserves to pull from, no more ships in mothballs that could be brought back online.

The Adraxi were out there, sharks in the water between the human races and factions.

A chill ran through his body looking at the Sphere World system. What kind of maniacs are they?

A man that loved everything about more firepower, he never thought he would be the one on the receiving end.

“Ships are being fired on as they try to jump away,” A sensor officer said. “Some made it through, but wormholes opened around them and fired on them even though they were in Federation space.”

“Wormholes opening!” There was horror in the communications officer’s voice. Why is the communications officer telling me about wormholes?

“Sphere World Ships flashing IFF of the Ice Sphynx Armada  have entered Federation space!”

Haver hit a blinking image on his side screens, Star maps showed the different Federation systems, Fleets crested through wormholes, firing before the ships were completely clear.

Those damned lasers carved lines into the station’s armor even as they fought back, hurling missiles and rail cannon shot.

The Sphere World ships launched waves of missiles and rail cannon rounds, their CIWS engaging the incoming weaponry as they rolled, increasing the number of CIWS they could bring into the fight, interlinked with one to cover their allies’ ships.

They moved out of Rail cannon paths, small missiles launching in clusters to clear the space ahead of them.

Destruction crashed ahead of them like waves hitting the cliffs, constantly pushed back as the ships advanced.

“They’re targeting the CIWS weaponry. We’re getting blind spots,” Sensors said.

“Cover them!” There were several seconds as people looked at one another.

“We don’t have the ability to move the stations,” Someone from navigation said.

If he used missiles for defense, then he would lose his ability to attack. None of them are hitting anyway. He snarled at his own betraying thoughts, the fleets driving the Federation weaponry ahead of them.

“The station CIWS was being burned away by the laser weaponry, leaving ‘blind’ spots,” Sensors said.

“Status of the fleets?”

“First fleet remains in Luyten system, they have pushed away from the lagrange and are covering the home world. Second fleet is engaged with the enemy in Proycon, Fifth fleet at Redeemer is engaged as well. Any ships that escaped the Azirith system were fired upon by wormhole projected weaponry at their exit location,” The communication officer said in a tired voice.

“Missiles Impacts on the stations!” Sensors gripped his station, staring at the screens, as if willing it to be a nightmare.

Haver forced himself to watch, his stomach a puddle. He had just three fleets left, they were all engaged, several stations were wounded, badly, but still somewhat in the fight, their attacks didn’t land on the overwhelming number of Legion ships. Just how did they get so many ships?

Their estimates had been well off the mark, their weaponry, their tactics, their numbers. His confidence melted around him, the cold prickling his skin.

Megatons worth of force detonated off the surface of the stations, some stabbing into the holes bored by the laser weaponry, cracking the massive stations. Built to defend against any and all attackers, they began to fall.

“Rail cannon impacts,” The sensors officer spoke, not wanting his words to be reality. They hit the surface of the stations with a flash of detonation. “The rail cannon rounds are using penetrators.” Sensor’s voice tight.

They slammed themselves into the station, the payload going off slamming kinetic and added explosive energy into the penetrator, partially transforming into a plasma state, melting through rock and armor, the explosive force spreading out through the smallest crack the penetrator passed.

“Wormholes around the Varassi Shipyards!” Communications said.

“We’ve got more at ammunition depot thirteen!” Another added.

Weapon fire ceased around several stations, rounds detonating, turning to flares of fury.

The stations were quiet, closing what armored shutters they could as the Sphere World fleets continued to advance.

“Stations are surrendering,” Communications said.

Haver gnashed his teeth together, eyes snapping back to the wormholes opening near the military shipyards, their research stations and factories.

His body sagged, feeling every one of his years, as it came to him, crystal clear. Shuttles departed the facilities, a few fired, getting off no more than a few rounds before they were lanced away with the light-speed, pin-point accurate Sphere World weaponry.

“They are transmitting orders for shipyards and military stations to be clear-“

“Wormhole at our location!” A fleet crested through the wormhole.

“This is Commander Jung-Su of the Ice-Sphynx Armada power down your reactors, turn off your weapons and prepare to be boarded, if you do not comply in the next ten seconds we will be forced to fire. We’re not sure if we’ll poke a hole through your station or not. It’s up to you if we’ll find out.” His voice came through every speaker, filling the entire command center.

Stations quietened one by one, surrendering several cracked and broken, spilling atmosphere, lifepods and shuttles trying to escape the wreckage.

“Inform the President,” Haver slumped in his command chair. He’d do what he could to wrap up Jung-Su in talks without committing himself to anything. More time to possibly find a way to hit back, to pin them down and give the President time to do something. He straightened in his seat. “Have the stations stand-down, tell Jung-Su we wish to talk.”

Nuclear missiles detonated among a shipyard, arms kilometers long broke and shattered like an icicle hit with a hammer, half-finished ships broke, never to leave their berths. More missiles hit, breaking the station into components.

Ammunition factories blow out panels were meant to defend against internal cook-offs, they broke under the Legion fire.

Compromised, the ammunition lockers ignited with the force of tens of megatons, the factories and any attached facilities simply disappeared.

Haver gritted his teeth, thumping his fist on his armrest. They didn’t mean to just destroy his ships, they were taking out his very ability to build more ships and arms.

He clenched his teeth so hard they hurt as the locations the factories had been hidden were turned into their component parts.

“Where is Jung-Su?”

“They say that he is busy with operations at this time.”

“Get me him! He needs to stop shooting our stations and factories!”

The communications staff ran into a wall, once shuttles and pods of the different facilities staff were far enough away, the Legion’s fleet opened fire.

Once the last station was no more than tumbling debris, Jung-Su appeared on his screen in his net-avatar upon his Dreadnought’s bridge. “Admiral Haver, we are willing to accept your surrender.”

“Those stations were not firing on you!”

“Some did, and they will never again produce anything that will fire on me or my people. Surrender or we will find someone that will.”

“Weapons are lockaed onto the station, more wormholes are opening, ten, thirty-hunrdred, they’re all around us, those weapons locked to a wormhole.”

Jung-Su raised an eyebrow. “I’ll come back again and again, will you Haver?”

Haver snapped his head from the sensor readouts to Jung-Su’s face, his anger chilled and his heart stilled. He had never talked to the military personnel of the Legion before. He’d always thought of them as baby-faced idiots. Jung-Su was composed, holding Haver’s life in his hand. His words sunk into Haver’s mind.

He meant them.

Dozens of ships moved through Federation space, coordinated, nearly untouched by his weaponry, backed by thousands of more weapons beyond where he could strike. His fleets had been reduced to broken hulls, the remaining forces crowding the planets for a last second defense.

“Will you promise to not kill any more of my people.”

“Unless they fire upon us,” Jung-Su nodded. “We will grant this. I have a recording from Brad and Stuart that will play through your networks.”

Jung-Su was replaced by the two administrators, both wearing space suits as they stood behind a podium.

Brad cleared his throat. “From this moment forwards, the Faction known as the Federation will have all military assets stripped from them. They will lose the weapons and ability to wage war on others, on the innocent.”

Stuart stepped forward, looking into the feed, into Haver’s very eyes and those of everyone that would watch the video. “No longer will we live in fear of their actions, of their attacks upon us. You have lived by the message might makes right. You have supported this government and their actions. You choose your destiny and you have allowed this to come. Before you rage at those that represent you, remember, they represent you. You could have changed this. Now you reap what you have sown.”

The video cut back to Jung-Su, there was no mercy in his eyes.

“Admiral Haver, I await to accept your surrender.”

The video cut off, the whole room silent, except the whirring of fans, and slight unconscious movement, screens and holograms filled with sights of destruction.

“Prepare to transmit orders for all Federation forces to stand down.

“Yes sir,” A communications officer said, as noise and movement returned. Haver heard the noise of a pistol sliding back into its holster.

He turned back, his personal guard’s hands resting on their weapons, looking straight ahead, with the same granite expressions they’d always worn.

“Admiral?” One asked.

A chill ran down his spine at the emotionless way the question was asked, he’d taken it for professionalism before, now he felt it contained a warning.

“Nothing, as you were,” He coughed and looked forward, a cold itch developing at the base of his skull.