The doors parted. Uolix entered the super projector chamber through them. They slid shut behind her as she floated over to the platform railing, where she looked down at the current display. Instead of the broken galaxy suspended over it, the projector was showing a map of the G.S.O’s refuge in space.
The station was in a polar orbit around a molten planet, its black and gray surface lined with reddish-orange rivers and streams. Its crust was bent and warped into craggy peaks. Volcanos constantly bled lava, sheets of melted rock erupted from fissures and clouds of smoke and gas wafted up into the proto-atmosphere.
Neighboring the station was the planet’s moons, if one could call them that. Hundreds if not thousands of space rock were held in the heavens by the newly birthed world’s gravity well, hurtling around it at immense speeds with every passing second, big and small.
The surrounding space throughout the system was bright and colorful. Wisps of golden gasses mixed with purples and greens surrounded the white point millions of miles away: a star formed in this celestial cradle. Against this cosmic backdrop, other developing worlds were nothing but tiny specks, in spite of them being as big if not bigger than the world the station was flying over.
But the holographic map represented every celestial body in the system, every giant, dwarf and passing object. This was Zero Hour. Across the galaxy, the other strongholds were experiencing the same anticipation. It would not be long until the system was flooded with an incoming tide of ships, hostile and friendly. The only question that was left unanswered was which of them would arrive first; those who had visions of destruction and terror, or those who wished to ward their heartless foes?
The station’s defenses were always active. Turrets scanned the heavens. Missile racks and silos were stocked. Batteries were powered and guns were loaded. If there was ever a time to be attacked, it was now. The galaxy was drawing its line and standing by it. Whether or not it was pushed back into the shadows of oppression and fear depended on every single bravehearted soul that responded to the call of the Harmony.
Uolix made her way over to a lift at the end of the platform. She ran the end of a Manipulator over the U-shaped control panel and waited for the elevator to reach the bottom of the observation chamber. The machinery was near silent save for a faint whirring noise and the chamber’s bright lights shone across the curved pane of glass that she looked out of. The array of computers neared and an inner trepidation grew in her. The Commander knew there was no place for such things to distract her, but she could not shake the feeling in its entirety. At best, she could only press on without paying the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her being any mind.
The lift stopped at the bottom and the railings split apart on either side of it. The Commander got off of the elevator and started approaching the super projector, flanked by the aisles of terminals of which only a small fraction was being used. The operators looked up from their screens and greeted her warmly.
“We were beginning to wonder when you’d be ready with new orders! It was getting stale, looking at the same data streams over and over again!”
Uolix came to a stop at her usual place before the mammoth machine, looking up at its displayed images, mulling this unexpected reception over. How could they be in such good spirits? This bold move was more than likely going to get them killed, if The Fall was anything to go by. As if reading her thoughts, one of the analysts spoke up.
“Commander… for the sake of the remaining personnel on the Situation Observatory, I think it is imperative that we share some words…”
“It has been a week now,” another analyst offered, standing up at their station and looking out over the collection of consoles. “You did not know the nature of the enemy then, so you did not know just how badly we would suffer in the event of failure. Now you do. We all do.”
Uolix turned around slowly to face the operatives, going out of her way to keep her head raised, to face them. The Shu’badi steeled her nerves and made sure her voice did not waver and crack. “I bear the regret of that day still, but it is not the cause of my unease on this fleeting eve. It is the possibility that my leadership is flawed, and more will die fighting under my orders. Has my failure not soured your loyalty?”
“Perhaps if this was another time it would have,” one of the analysts replied, “ but as it stands though… we don’t have the liberties necessary to start going against our superior officers. What with certain death hanging out in outer space and all...”
“And you don’t have the luxury of second guessing yourself,” said another. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t intend to give it our all to take back what was lost. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t believe we could.”
“So with all due respect, Commander, pull yourself together and lead us to victory; we’re all here eager to follow.”
Uolix was touched. Of the original station crew, those who remained on the G.S.O possessed such spirit. It did not occur to her that if she had fallen out of their favor, they would have abandoned the cause a long time ago. “They deserve a promotion,” she thought. ”But what would I promote them t-“
Alarms started to blare. Red lights flashed. The main lighting system dimmed down and an orange glow overtook the chamber as the station began shutting down excess systems in bulk in an effort to delay detection by enemy forces. Uolix turned around to face the super projector. The sinking feeling returned as she took in the information the hologram conveyed.
The question was answered. The deathless tide was the one to arrive first. A whole fleet that would have outnumbered any outpost force before The Fall. There were no readings telling of an interstellar jump. Ships just began to appear, small signatures streaming into the system from the outer edges of it before the larger ones started to be detected. The hulking constructs lumbered behind the first wave that was flying like a plague of locusts towards the G.S.O.
“Battlestations!” Uolix ordered. The G.S.O had to hold out for reinforcements, wherever they may be.
The operatives typed in their commands on their keys and rearranged blocks of information inside holographic interfaces. Elsewhere in the station, officers jogged to their places in an organized chaos, like ants in a colony.
Black wings unfurled, the necrolier onslaught closed in on the sprawling complex. With them were squadrons of converted Harmony battleships and combat mechs. The guns mounted on the G.S.O’s exterior swung around. Missile apertures opened. Electricity and magical energies crackled in between prongs of metal.
“Secure a ten kilometer perimeter around our position. Fire at will!”
The G.S.O’s light weaponry was the first thing to go live. The guns in their housing pointed into the black cluster of metallic carapace and unleashed a torrent of scalding energy that flew like comets with flaring tails behind the shots. Reds, greens, yellows and purples were soaring off into the thicket of enemy craft. Gaseous residue spread around the mouth of the gun barrels, forming in such concentration that the station was gradually being engulfed in the cloud.
The necroliers hit started to ablate away, glowing with lingering magic that ate away at their hulls as they flew. The others returned fire, their occult pilots drawing strength from the nether regions of the universe. In addition to balls of energy and lances of lightning, the black ships materialized limbs comprised of a deep red essence, black bolts of electricity running through them. These limbs linked together in between the horde-craft moving in formation, amplifying the dark sorcery until entire bodies of magic started to appear.
All of a sudden, interspersed in the undead swarm were these red and black creatures that defied convention and description. Simultaneously solid yet formless, these machinations of bands of magic advanced, defying reality by screeching in the absolute silence of the void.
“They’re past the ten kilometer point!” one of the analysts reported.
“Do not let them get any closer!” Uolix barked in response, her eyes locked on the super projector.
Mech units flew evasively through the necrolier horde, rolling out of the path of fire and corkscrewing around the entropic rounds the station pelted them with. Horde-craft fell victim to the rampant firing but the mechs approached with much more finesse. Their exterior thruster altered their attitudes constantly, allowing them to pull off such maneuvers despite their great size and without sacrificing their vector speeds.
One especially bulky mech leveled out, flying upside down relative to the station. It was covered in dark green and yellow armor, sporting a giant “shoulder” mounted cannon and six legs with multiple thrusters mounted on them. The legs tucked up into the unit’s central mass and the cannon, lined with shining beams of viridian light, started to form a bubble of volatile energy at the end of its length.
“Moon Smasher class units preparing for attack!”
“Use the Vindicator Volley!” Uolix ordered.
“Affirmative!”
From the silos and apertures, huge rockets took flight. Chrome and blue in color, the rockets had a booster that burned bright and white. Mounted onto the missiles were laser turrets which opened fire immediately upon launch. Blinding beams of light exploded against the hulls of enemy ships as the Vindicators sought out sufficiently packed groups of them.
Huge bubbles of expanding energy rippled through the necrolier formations as the missiles went off, pinkish magic washing over the horde and tossing ships around like a tidal wave.
Boring through the aftermath of the Vindicators, the higher class deathless ships continued unaffected, the mist left hanging in the vacuum parting around their mass. Dark gray spires protruded from their hulls like spines, necrotic energy running along their lengths. Approaching alongside were the crimson demons, writhing and thirsty for the souls waiting to be reaped.
“Calibrate the aim of the main cannons and fire on my mark!” said Uolix as she eyed the image of the oncoming ships, trying to determine which of them needed to be disabled first.
She tried identifying any signs of any especially worrying weaponry, but with all the spires sticking out from the ships she couldn’t properly identify anything. Sensors and scans were rendered moot by the very nature of the deathless ships, which ran on sorcery more than anything else. The extent of their capability was only limited by the mages aboard!
“Spread out the assault and hope for collateral damages! Fire!”
Artillery guns slid back into their housing following the guide rails that kept them aimed on their targets. Black smoke billowed out of their ports and vents, rolling across the G.S.O’s exterior hull as if a warhead had been launched.
The armored slugs erupted out of the multicolored cloud of vapor, spinning, leaving contrails and pulling some of the smoke with them. Raised plates served as drill bits meant to pierce armored targets, post-launch boosters served to drive the ammunitions deep into them.
Necroliers were flattened against the broad heads of the slugs without slowing them down at all, the hulls torn to floating bits in the aftermath. The giant rounds smashed into the ships they were designed to neutralize, ejecting huge chunks of the structure upon collision. Sparks flew and hull plating caved in, glowing with superhot intensity. Fires burst from the interiors of the space titans, violent explosions from breaks and fissures that mirrored those that occurred frequently down on the newborn planet.
Spires fell apart, their energies released into the void, causing surrounding ships to fail catastrophically. The buckling ships were then pulled apart by the explosions, huge sections of them drifting off gripped with sheets of flame.
“We can’t keep them back! There’s too many of them!” someone shouted.
Uolix watched with a mounting feeling of inevitability as the red closed in on the G.S.O. No matter how many ships they destroyed, more were flying into take their place, occupying the firing lines while leaving other areas open to attack. The station’s defensive structure was good, but far from impervious. Against these enemies, the fight was as good as over.
Uolix knew that the others were well aware of this. Yet they did not panic, nor did they leave their posts. They were going to ride this out until the bitter end. She couldn’t help the tears that flowed from her eyes. Tears of immense happiness and pride in addition to sadness; the galaxy could have been so much more than what it was.
She saw the effects of the first tremors as the undead assault started making headway. The projector’s image fizzled and distorted with each explosion against the G.S.O’s walls. The orange glow of the auxiliary lights turned to blackness more than once in the span of a few minutes, worryingly enough. Sparks started to jump from various monitors and terminals.
Uolix never took her gaze off of the super projector’s image, however. Even as it wavered, she stared into it, watching the battle play out as it did. Because of this, she saw when they appeared. The allied forces had arrived.
The prismatic wave of light left by the warping ships rippled around the nebula as the wayward fleets converged as one, having merged on their way to battle. In the time it took to organize themselves, the battle was well underway and being lost, as it so appeared.
“We need a defensive line to secure the G.S.O!”
“Leave it us! Second Winds, let’s get a move on!”
White triangular ships with swept wings loaded with all manner of guns and cannons turned their noses toward the station, destroyer class ships that dwarfed the cruiser sized game laying siege of the station.
“We’ll busy ourselves with the red ones then!” said the blue-armored Ghanax captain. He held out a gauntleted hand, a finger extended. Moving across his plane of view, the demons were marked by red circular reticles. “Send them back to the hell whence they came; fire at will! Fighter squadrons take out their allies! ”
“Copy that,” Phineas thought. The wings of the Federation shuttle were tip to tip with a multitude of Harmony fighters flying in wedge formation behind the formation leader. He surveyed the battle from his cockpit. His shuttle honed in on one particular enemy ship, orange bars enclosing the distant craft in a square and a magnified image of it appearing thereafter. The stallion narrowed his eyes at what he saw. Tzorvar Prime. Tsubar.
“You heard him! Spread out, watch each other’s tail and blow things up!” Elysia messaged the rest of the formation. Her ship was a compact, almost spherical fighter with two large side mounted engines and a raised canopy cockpit. Its guns were not connected to the ship, but free moving and bound to the ship by cables of energy that constantly danced around.
Elysia glanced over her shoulder at Alikir, who was fulfilling the role of gunner. He was lying in a holo-pod with his hands holding the grips of the yokes and his fingers gently pressing down on the inset triggers. The aiming mechanism looked more like arm braces with a circular cavities providing space for hand movement, in this case that being the pulling of the firing units. A holographic map of the system was suspended in front of him, light blue concentric rings indicating astronomical distance from the battle-pod with the ship being at the center and enemy vessels indicated by red symbols pertaining to various classes of craft.
“How’re you holding up, Space Ranger?”
“Peachy! Beats standing in front of a navigation unit for hours on end!” Alikir replied.
Elysia rolled her head from side to side and flexed her shoulders. As casual as her banter might come off as, she knew full well the danger she and the others were heading into.
But nothing ventured, nothing gained.