Revelation, p.1
Revelation, page 1
part #7 of The Descendants War Series
Revelation
The Descendants War
Book 7
John Walker
Copyright (c) 2021 John Walker
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
DISCLAIMER
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. This story contains explicit language and violence.
Blurb
Violence rages across the universe. Deals are made and the fate of every culture hangs on the actions of a precious few. While the Triton deals with the aftermath of their rescue efforts, plots brew in the Kahl Empire. A resistance has become emboldened, standing on the verge of fighting back against their government.
Meanwhile, a desperate ally reveals precious information, the sort of intelligence that may well destroy humanity's best chance to defy their enemies. An invasion begins, one bent on carnage and chaos. With the Triton off the grid and the Brekka in the midst of repairs, humanity must find support to meet the attackers or become another victim of the Kahl.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogie
Prologue
Lieutenant Dean Gomez waved his hand before him as he tried to clear the black smoke obscuring his terminal. Fire raged around him, turning the station control center into an oven. Sweat soaked his clothes--covering his face, plastering his hair to his scalp--but he maintained his focus, desperate to finish his task.
Come on! The system reacted slowly. Red lights flashed on the left side, indicating failures in various modules. Internal communications were still live, but the cross chatter made it useless. He attempted to calm people, but no one listened. No one can hear me with all the other nonsense going on.
The attack had come out of nowhere. Blips appeared on long-range scanners. Before anyone in the control room had a chance to ID the incoming vessels, they were under attack. Energy weapon fire hammering the center of the station, taking out living areas first. That was the first clue their adversaries didn't know what they were doing.
Who the hell are they? By the time Dean got a clear look at their silhouettes, he didn't have anyone else in the area to ask about them. They were strange, lengthy ships with weapons bristling across the hulls. Their turrets fired in unison along with some larger weapons that caused the most damage.
Searching the database didn't help. Even if information had existed, their second volley had cut off his connection to the central storage facility. Shields dropped... then went back up, climbing swiftly to seventy percent efficiency. Dean felt confident he could hold them off with that while the weapons powered on.
Then their next barrage tore him down to thirty percent. What kind of equipment are they using?
Dean's posting put him on the border, far from the central systems. He'd been working the sleepy post for the better part of two years. They supported mining operations primarily, ships collecting ore from asteroids and dead planets. Even pirates didn't bother them out there. He hadn't seen any action since his previous post.
This place has always been safe. Who would want to take it out now? And why bother?
Warp from their sector to the nearest TCN colony took a minimum of ten hours. That was with efficient military gear. Civilians and pirates might take twice as long. Holding the area made no sense either. Not unless they had a need to blow up mining vessels and kill regular workers... people just doing their jobs.
I can't imagine anything like that. Bodies around him began to cook, his peers reduced to corpses waiting for incineration. He swallowed hard, slapping the last button he needed to bring the weapons fully online. Turrets woke up, launching volleys at their attackers. Next step, get a message home.
The terminal sparked, sending bits of plastic and glass in every direction. Dean stumbled back, shielding his eyes. Shards cut into his cheeks, slicing his forehead, but that was the extent of the damage. Blood mixed with the sweat and grime forming from the smoke. The scent of burned electronics filled the air.
The FTL transmitter allowed them to send communications back to TCN high command as well as the nearest colonies. Unfortunately, that meant leaving the command center. A backup station two floors below might still be operational. He had no way to know without going there directly.
No one could get to him in time to help, but a warning might save others. As he hustled toward the doorway to leave, the realization of what that meant hit him hard, driving home a dire notion.
I may not survive this. That statement turned definite. I'm going to die here. Duty pushed the anxiety down, the terror boiling in his gut as bile rushed up his chest. It burned as surely as the flames he left behind. Swallowing didn't help. His mouth was dry. He trembled but continued forward, taking the stairs two at a time.
"Command!" A shout in his ear broke above the others. "What is happening? Do you have contact with enemy forces? Who are they?"
The voice faded into the static of a dozen voices, maybe more, each crying out for information or begging for assistance. Some words rose above others, but many of the sounds were inarticulate screams, fear taking over to the point the people lost the capacity for rational thought.
Dean understood. He struggled with the sensation himself. The thought of collapsing in a ball crossed his mind. Praying took its place, then duty kicked them all aside, driving him to hurry. I can still get to the life pods. Every station housed two dozen escape pods in case of catastrophic events.
This qualifies! But before he could get to one, the message had to go out.
The station rumbled from the continuous attack, another hit from the enemy's bigger guns. Dean assumed that one took out the shields. Smaller weapons would be plenty to tear through the hull, ripping holes in the structure until enough breaches finished them off. Why haven't they tried to speak to us yet?
He would've surrendered on their behalf, but these marauders seemed only interested in destruction. An idea dawned on him as he made the landing, turning to go down the next flight of stairs. These attackers wanted to draw out a TCN response force. They were looking for a fight with other military vessels.
We're a means to an end!
A blast shook the station, tossing him from his feet. He flew down the last five stairs, slamming his back against the wall then bounced off the floor. Shoving to his feet, he cried out. His shoulder felt like he'd been stabbed just as his lower back and hips throbbed. Limping to the door, he slapped the panel then stumbled inside.
Lights flickered overhead but Dean focused on the console. As he tapped it, the screen woke up. His heart leaped in his chest; a surge of hope made him smile. Come on, baby! We don't have much time! He booted up the long-range communication app, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
The station he manned was one of two in the room. Most of the time, a couple technicians worked there to coordinate communications with the miners and any ships that needed to dock. When they weren't busy with that, they worked through scan data sent back by the independent contractor vessels.
No bodies littered the floor, meaning the people in charge of the area had fled already. He wondered if they went for the life pods. Likely. Dean was one of a handful of military officers aboard the station. Most were civilian contractors. Yes, they'd served in the military, but for some it had been years.
They weren't going to stand around and wait to die if they could help it.
The long-range communicator stalled at sixty percent load. Come on, please don't be trashed! A clear signal broke through on the local line. Dean tapped it, bringing it up. "This is Station Angelic. Who is that?"
"Hey, Angelic. This is Captain Sitwell. We are witnessing this attack on the station and are incoming to assist."
Dean brought the viewscreen up. Five mining ships closed on the war vessels blasting the station. The smaller turrets didn't cause the kind of concussion required to disrupt artificial gravity, at least not on the interior of the station. However, watching the swath of energy beams coming straight for them quickly became a nightmare.
Those civilian vessels had defensive lasers and mining equipment. Neither of which would be enough to take down the shields of a craft designed for conflict. Especially not these things. As the station fired back, Dean noted the greenish-blue shields of the enemy lighting up, soaking up the damage as if it were no more than sunlight.
"Stand down!" Dean shouted. "Do not engage! Get yourselves out of here! That's a direct order!"
"No can do, sir," Sitwell replied. "That's our home they're hitting. Besides, where are we going to go?" Many of them didn't have warp drives. Only the largest, which also had the best chance of causing any damage to the attackers. Oddly, the invaders didn't seem to pay them any mind.
Sitwell's tiny fleet of s
Why are they so intent on blowing us up? Dean raged at the question, turning his attention to the long-range communicator. It reached eighty-five percent... eighty-six... eighty-seven. Typically, he never even saw a progress bar. It simply popped online to be used. We've taken catastrophic damage.
Using the second terminal, Dean typed in his credentials to bring up a damage report. The reactor leaked radiation in the lower decks. Hull breaches mostly in the center of the station stretched across the entire facing side of the structure, which meant they may well tear it in half soon.
That would cut us off from most systems. Life support being the first one that came to mind, followed by artificial gravity power. I have to hurry! Though it wasn't exactly him dawdling that was the problem. The communications bar showed ninety-three percent... ninety-four. Every second took it closer to a hundred.
I don't know if I've got the time! Dean's heart screamed at him to flee, to abandon the station to get to the life pods. They're probably already gone! And if they weren't, they'd run out fast. Providing people survived the assault in the first place. He had his doubts... his hand hovered over the other station.
I can scan for life forms. Dean stopped himself when the station beeped three times. The communicator was up. He leaned close to the microphone to record his message, glancing up at the viewscreen.
The miners launched their attack, blasting away at the enemy flank. The smaller ships weren't doing much, but the bigger one drew the attention of the marauder on the right. That ship turned to face them. Shields flared as the two craft tore into each other, slugging it out. While the violence raged, Dean spoke.
"Attention, all TCN armed forces and colonies. This is Angelic Station in Sector Three-Six-Niner. We are under heavy attack by unknown forces. Sending their silhouettes with this report. Assistance will not arrive in time. Take any defensive precautions against the tactical data I'm sending. Good luck."
Dean hit send along with the most recent log file which included the scan data on the enemy shields and assault in general. It went through immediately, a small miracle that made him slump with exhausted relief.
The fight continued on the screen. One of the smaller ships burned, drifting away from the fight. Both enemy ships turned to deal with the miners now, relieving the station from their assault. A quick scan showed the station weapons hadn't done anything... which made Dean wonder how the miners fared well enough to get their attention.
We need to do something extreme, Dean thought. Something to slow these two ships down. A thought dawned on him, one ridiculous and insane. I can distract them. Possibly hold them here for a time. But... well... here goes. He darted from the comm room, hitting the stairs again.
He needed to move to the opposite side of the station if his plan had any chance of working. With all the damage in the middle of the structure, he feared he wouldn't be able to pass that section. If safety doors dropped, he'd be done. Then I'll go to the nearest life pod and pray.
Bodies rested here and there on the stairs in various states of burned death. He tried to pay them no mind, even as his brain put names to the charred faces. Smoke thickened the further down he went. A fire blocked his path, waist-high before an open door. The hallway beyond looked clear.
Scrunching up his face, Dean tensed his body and jumped the flames. He moved swiftly enough to only feel the heat for a moment, but as he landed, he let out a cry of shock and elation. Blast doors sealed the hallway to his left. The hallway ahead led to the next set of stairs leading down along the backside of the station.
Dean ran, hopping over black marks on the floor in case they proved to be weak. He no longer thought rationally, going on instinct. More death greeted him. Bodies in pieces, chunks of flesh clinging to the walls near open bulkheads. Wires sparked. He ran through smoke and tiny bursts of electricity.
Heat rushed over him, a harsh breeze that stole the air from his lungs. Dean coughed as he reached the doorway to the stairs. Struggling for a breath, he made it to the landing where the temperature regulated. I don't even want to know what happened around the opposite side. Probably another raging fire.
Four flights of stairs made his legs ache, even going down. His spine complained when he reached the bottom door. Dean's hand hovered over the panel as he offered a quick prayer... then tapped it. The door slid open, revealing the Engineering section near the reactor. And the radiation leak.
Hustling through the chamber, he slid to a halt before the open space where the Engineering team tended to operate. It looked like a slaughter. Dozens of bodies littered the area, some on consoles, others on the floor. One man was pinned to the wall, his body stuck on a shard of metal sticking out of the wall.
The scent of blood competed with burned metal and plastic. Fires raged everywhere but Dean saw a clear path to a set of terminals on the other side. He darted for them, slipping on some kind of goo on the floor. He landed on his back, sliding a good five feet before rolling to his stomach.
He crawled the last little bit to his destination, pulling himself up to his knees. The computers were online. Tapping in his security code, he started the countdown to reactor detonation, a self-destruct sequence which would obliterate the station in seconds rather than the slow attrition the enemy sought.
This will slow them down. The sequence took two minutes. Dean scampered away, moving back toward the door. A fire roared inches away, making him slow with his hands in front of his face. As the rush of heat died away, he started again, making the hallway. A hard right took him in the proper direction.
Escape pods for Engineering should've been intact still. With all the poor bastards lying dead in the other room, none of them had an opportunity to even make for them. Even still, the first two Dean tried were already gone. He suspected they'd been launched without people, potentially from a short.
The station rattled, making him slap the wall to maintain his footing. Metal complained, groaning above him. Whatever happened came from internal damage rather than another enemy attack. The sound came from too deep within the station rather than externally. Besides, they're still busy.
He boarded the escape pod, slapping the door closed. Power came online. Dean didn't wait for the green light, hitting the safety override. G-force thrust him into his seat as it launched away from Angelic. The viewscreen came online, offering a spinning view of deep space directly in front of him.
Maneuvering thrusters offered some ability to right the thing. Dean nursed them to slow the rotation then changed the camera to the rear. Sitwell's mining vessel launched a final barrage before the center of their craft burst, sending bits flying upward. As it crumpled inward, the enemy continued blasting until they turned to dust.
The last of our defenders, Dean thought. Those fools... I guess at least they died fighting. Not much of an epitaph.
The station glowed white-blue, particularly from the breaches in the hull. From the outside, Dean had no idea how it remained intact at all. Most of the panels were black or damaged in some way. Oxygen fled from various holes. The fact he survived long enough to make it to Engineering had been a miracle.
The enemy ships turned back to their quarry, their turrets starting to fire once again. Dean smirked at their predictability. They must not even be bothering to scan the thing. Otherwise they'd know to get the hell out of there. The reactor went a few moments later, turning the station into a mini sun.
Each module exploded, adding to the fury as the wave of energy increased, a globe of destruction rushing outward in all directions. Dean's pod made it just outside the safety zone of the blast though chunks of debris surrounded him as if he'd just flown into an asteroid field. Clunks on the hull sounded like hail bashing a tin roof.
The enemy ships appeared to be intact. They didn't move, though. Just sat there. Then he saw static racing across the hull of one. The shields had dropped. Ha! Son of a bitch, take that! He didn't know if it would buy the TCN any time, if the invaders could quickly repair the damage or what.
