CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Two days earlier

  Adrift in a tundra of glistening ice, the Basilica meandered aimlessly. Remnants of what was, until recently, the vast oceans of Accrakos clung to the hull, teasing the power-starved vessel with brief glimmers of light. Ornamenting the frozen halls were the lifeless bodies of Accran soldiers, entombed in frigid pillars of what they once called home. The android crew, indifferent to the vacant stares of the dead, feverishly attempted to restore power to their ship.

  Volka floated meditatively among the opalescent crystals, silently observing the repair efforts, troubled by his brother's weeping, curled mass. Khan had taken the loss of the keystones squarely on his shoulders. His complacency around their guests was a mistake he had paid dearly for. Despite the sacrifice of their crew, the twins remained shells of their former selves. Mismatched limbs made from various metals gave them a scrapyard chic, unbecoming of their status and reputation. Volka held back his mourning, instead choosing to place his faith in the great work and upon the aptitude of his fellow Lords, confident they would fulfill their respective tasks.

  Through a tear in the Basilica's hull, Volka observed an approaching ship. Fortunately for the androids, they flew allied colors. Volka and his crew were in no shape to defend themselves, any form of attack spelling their end. The still battle-worn Gallowmare maneuvered into position, deploying men to assist the robotic crew — Kaligan's final order before departing from Accrakos, a show of gratitude for the gift of revenge.

  Despite his ship laying in tatters and his brother inconsolable, Volka couldn't wipe the smile from his face. Having a Levantikar awaken before his eyes had been the only proof he needed of his prophecy's validity. The creature's arrival had been promised to him long ago by the only man he had ever bowed to. The man that even death would not keep him from serving. Any doubts he had ever entertained were buried in the wake of the cosmic serpent, the arrival signaling the return of the one true king.

  Ten hours passed before the lights flickered to life. Much like its Lords, the Basilica was resurrected. Although not at maximum efficiency, she was more than capable for the task at hand. With the artificial environment stabilized, cadaver-packed ice melted away, and gravity returned, the crew manned their stations and reported on the ship's condition. Volka was only concerned with one thing — the core. Not only was it the primary energy source for both the vessel and its crew, the core served a secondary, more sinister agenda. All systems were broadcasting as operational. With a stable core and the engines ignited, the Basilica prepared to ferry her crew to the ultimate test of their resolve.

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  Present Day

  An electric tension surged through the atmosphere aboard the Fallonark. Hail and his men had only recently arrived and already the pressure of the situation had them rattled. They stood anxiously in the cathedral-esque war room with an assemblage of other Captains. Noctei had been inseparable from the Admiral since he had docked, insisting she would not be bothered by any lower-ranking officer. All eyes were locked sharply to the radar instruments, scanning the surrounding quadrant for even the slightest glimmer of activity. The recent sightings of pirate Dreadnoughts had everyone balanced on a knife's edge, the Admiral more so than most. Knowing an imminent attack was certain and being forced to spread their forces between the most likely targets put them at a severe disadvantage. Waiting to be sprung upon by the enemy had Hail in an unwelcome state of vulnerability, and his crew could sense his unease.

  The communication board lit up in a blaze of flashing nodes.

  "Incoming from Captain Tanda at Fort Terabus, Sir. Multiple intrusions and massive causalities are being reported. Immediate backup is being requested." The technician relayed in a panicked tone. Hail's eyes expressed the helplessness his voice refused to. Sending even a handful of ships would increase their already severe handicap to an unacceptable level. Not only the seat of the galactic government, the Fallonark served as the galaxy's central information hub. Unfathomable streams of data flowed through the walls. Locked behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, the most unknowable of Naval secrets lay undisturbed.

  "Golgotha takes top priority. Assistance request denied." The cold, definitive tone in his voice had even the Captains looking perplexed. A critical naval facility was under siege, and Hail wouldn't even send a destroyer to assist. It didn't make sense. The Admiral examined his communication device, silently reading an incoming message. A quiver of his lip sent a tremble down his smoldering cigarette, dropping a thick heap of ash onto his lap.

  Noctei knew there were only a handful of men above the Admirals. The real shapers of policy and the true strong arm of justice in the galaxy, their undeniable will whispered from the shadows. It was this will that Hail was duty-bound to carry out, and the resulting action weighed upon his shoulders.

  "Report to Captain Tanda that he is authorized to secure the facility with initiative mercy." Hail's order prompted a wave of confused whispering through the lower ranks. The Captains, however, bowed their heads as if already in mourning. They had all been briefed on what would be expected of them were a facility under their control to be compromised beyond recovery — a final countermeasure that would be sure to stop any attack.

  Before the technician could reply, the internal alarm system burst to life. Every available monitor cried a piercing red alert that flashed violently onto the onlooking crowd.

  "Two ships picked up on long-range scanners. Approaching fast, Sir." As he spoke, the technician hammered away to focus the telescopes on the oncoming vessels. Both the Gallowmare and Basilica came into view. Despite their tardy appearance, the naval staff shot into high alert. The danger these ships represented was mainly due to the incomparable insanity of the men who piloted them.

  "Admiral, permission to engage." Noctei chimed in, followed by the other Captains. All were keen to not only prove themselves but also for revenge. The memory of the recently deceased Captain Hallow still burned bright in their hearts.

  "Permission granted. Advance the fleet," Hail said, rising to his feet and joining the Captains in their march to the docking bay.

  War had finally arrived, and although ill-prepared, they had no intention of letting a single pirate boot intrude onto the Fallonark's pristine marble walkways. This was holy ground, and they would not allow it soiled.

  With the roar of engines engulfing the bay, blast shields were lowered, and the might of the hundred-strong fleet sailed fearlessly into the enemy's jaws.

  The absence of his fellow Admirals clouded Hail's mind more than ever. Despite being told that Admiral Gesa's Dios Toro was due to arrive back in their quadrant soon, the fact that he was headed into battle alone consumed Hail in a fog of doubt.

  The current preoccupation of Admiral's Gesa and Indra was doubtless part of the pirate's scheme. Today was the first sighting of the Basilica in over a hundred years. How it had managed to stay hidden over the decades was a mystery that had frustrated Hail more than most. The scar left in its spherical hull was a comforting sign to the Naval crews. The Cybel were not invincible. Their enemy was not the mist-stepping, scythe-wielding reaper they had dreamed up, but tangled sheets of steel and bolts that their cannons could rip apart. The visible vulnerability bred a confidence in the Naval men that was most welcome by their Captains, sitting steadfast as the fleet came to a standstill.

  For the second time, the communication board lit up. On this occasion, however, the operator showed hesitation before patching it through. Hail gave the signal, and the entirety of the viewing portal filled with a metallic grin. Staring down at them were the transcendent eyes of something more than human but that lacked even a shred of humanity. Hail had suspicions about how the Cybel had managed to survive the decades, but condemning themselves to a slow decay toward insanity was a route he thought them smart enough to avoid.

  "The pleasure is all mine, Admiral. Following the path of the great work has the habit of reuniting old friends." Volka said smugly to a visibly infuriated Hail.

  "By order of the galactic government, you are to surrender immediately and hand over control of the illegal vessels. I will not ask twice." Hail was surprisingly able to keep his cool despite being face to face with a man whose elusive nature had taunted him for most of his career.

  "Well, we both know that series of events will not occur, Admiral. You have both someone and something that belongs to us, and we would very much appreciate their return." Volka spoke in a placid tone as he made his request. Khan cast an encompassing shadow as he loomed in the background. His eyes were wide like those of a starving hound, fantasizing about the pain he was going to inflict on the Admiral. Hail cut the feed.

  "Engage the enemy."

  He had wasted enough time in the faux negotiation. Although the Navy severely outnumbered their enemy, he would never underestimate the treacherous nature of their kind again.

  A barrage of plasma missiles burst from the fleet. Countless projectiles burned through the void at impossible speeds. The pirate vessels remained motionless. As plasma collided with resonance field, bolts of magnificent color shot into the blackness. Arcs of destruction careened out for miles before crackling into nothingness. Before long, the bright, hexagonal structure that made up the pirate shields peeled away, revealing their vulnerable, pre-damaged hulls. Hail looked out in disbelief. It couldn't be that simple.

  Both ships had fearsome reputations; having them exposed after one barrage was unthinkable. His crew's unconvinced glances told him they suspected the same. As he looked out at the denuded vessels, he caught a brief flicker of light shoot from the Cybel sphere.

  Sparkling particles coalesced in the Basilica core. The entire ship glowed as a field of electric blue energy pulsed through the hull. Webs of intricate etchings on the ship's outer shell shone fiercely into the darkness. A warning that the aggressors heeded.

  "All power to shields," Hail ordered through the comms channel. He had his men brace themselves, scolding himself for being subdued by foolish hope.

  Trembling with overflowing energy, the Basilica began to emit waves, distorting gravity and, somehow, reality itself. The warping energies engulfed the Naval fleet. Hulls bent at impossible angles, molded to the distorted space around them like clay in the hands of God. The men inside the ship swayed, their bodies writhing unnaturally. Elongated limbs and twisted faces formed an abstract nightmare. Like aqueous marionettes, they writhed around in a confused panic. Light overcame darkness in a bloom of white, plunging everything into a colorless vacuum. The radiance of an exploding sun blinded everything it touched, forcing the crews into a world comprised only of touch and sound. Deafened by the artificial cries of their ship, the Naval men were assaulted by the sound of simultaneous system failures. These shrieks of panic were accompanied by the grinding crunch of compressed metal, almost to the point of splintering.

  As quickly as it had appeared, the all-encompassing light subsided, and the Naval men entered an even darker scene than they had left. Hail gauped at the fried circuitry of his bridge, sickened at the sight of curled bodies, clutching at their eyes and pleading for help. Most of his crew recovered from their temporary blindness, stumbling to their feet only to discover endless rows of ruined machinery. Their ship had been gutted like a fish, flailing pitifully as the Dreadnoughts pressed on unimpeded. A battle that was theirs for the taking lost in a matter of seconds. Hail was out of options. Without recourse for retaliation, all he could do was watch the end approach.