Imminent Destruction

The shards of the Imminent Destruction’s damaged cannon were fully exposed to the enemy’s view as it broke to the far-left flank of the Dorian.

Bert ground his yellowed teeth against the filter of his cigarette as he watched a portion of the enemy fleet on magnified visual and scanned the numerous radar readings. Patrol data came in; the opposing fleets were only five minutes from being in meaningful firing range if they assumed full speed. The cigarette dropped. He forgot about it, then reached into his stash and twisted the filter of a new one.

“Never seen anything quite like it, damned if we’re not screwed,” Bert said as a fresh cigarette dangled from his mouth.

“We can handle it,” Fade said.

“Yah, sure we can.”

The communications screen flashed. Admiral Norima dominated the screen while Commander Soel appeared in a box on the bottom left-hand corner. The Admiral spoke first, reading from his computer screen.

“Captain Defacto, you are to release the infiltration company within one kilometer of the Neimun, at approximately five hundred hours. The Neimun is numbered 324-100-005. You should recognize its unique shape easily. I’m sending a picture to your projector,” A miniature holograph of the Neimun circled above the receiver. “Be careful, the ship is well escorted by capable attack craft. Work with commander Soel to find a safe drop point. We don’t have information on the type or location of the ship’s guns, if any. Good luck Lieutenant Soel, Captain Defacto. Captain, your fellow mercenaries will engage the main fleet for a small time. Take advantage of any opening and get behind the lines. The operation starts when you get the green signal.”

The Admiral’s picture disappeared, leaving Soel to take over the screen.

“Commander,” Fade said, “you know what to do. Get your troops to the dispatch bay.”

“We’re already there. Display no cowardice, and you won’t have to worry about my company.”

The screen returned to basic radar and camera feeds.

“Real friendly fella, eh,” Bert said.

The indicator light on Bert’s side of the control panel represented orders from high command. The light was on yellow, which meant forward with caution. When it turned a greenish yellow, they could attack cautiously. Bert rubbed his index finger against the light to buff a scratch in the case.

“I think they’re trying to get rid of us. Sounds like a suicide mission to me. Go in right up against an enemy mother-ship, that’s bull. Whatever happened to the Dorian’s main gun, and why do they need space infantry?”

“Did you read the briefing? The Neimun’s more important than a mother-ship. Its main weapon is defensive, protecting most of the enemy fleet, so Soel’s company might turn out to be the most important force in this battle.”

“How would you know?” Bert asked

“Look at the superstructure. It couldn’t hold a cannon worthy of a light destroyer.”

"Could always be somethin' we haven't thought on."

A green light flashed; that meant pursue their objective at all cost. Fade took hold of the steering mechanism.

“We have a fix on the Neimun’s location. Let’s get there; full cloaking, and ready the special countermeasure.”

-----

Black rectangular banners hung in the chambers of the secondary controller stationed on the Neimun. They depicted the rifle and blade crisscrossed in front of a dark red blot representing a planet called Ranack. The tightly woven dark red carpet matched the planet. In the forefront a black leather with an imposing back swiveled on its mounted platform. A video screen dominated the back wall. A black coat with sleeves adorned by four knife shaped pins hung from the chair; it indicated a rank of Controller. A cap with the same knives on its front slipped to the floor. Controller Sethin busied himself with one handed push-ups that moistened his red turtle neck, black pants, and even his boots. A podium materialized at the left side of the empty chair. Controller Sethin quickly smoothed his thick wet hair, replaced his cap and coat, and activated the podium. The manager of the Neimun stood in the center of ten supporting officers. All wore the black and red uniforms.

“Controller,” said the Manager, “We’re maintaining a distance of fourteen thousand kilometer from the Dorian. The dark angels are on standby.”

“Hail to the Judicature,” Sethin said, “Manager Martin, is the Neimun resonating high frequency alpha waves?”

“How did you know, sir?”

“How long, Manager Martin?”

“Since we dove into the Hacetion sector.”

“Why wasn’t I informed immediately?”

“I received no warning, sir, and since there was no deleterious effect, I considered it of little importance. I didn’t wish to disturb you with something so trivial.”

“You know anything abnormal is to be reported without delay. You’re relieved of command until further notice, send me Major Hiram and return to your quarters.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize for my mistake.”

Hiram was a bit taller than Sethin, and had a short beard of deep red.

“Major Hiram. You’re appointed temporary Manager of this vessel. Your first assignment is to relay a sample chart of the signals we’re resonating to Ranack. Afterwards you may see me personally about your authority badge. If you perform exceptionally; I may prefer to see you as Martin’s replacement. You may have the honor of initiating the first phase of our attack. Do it now.”

“Yes, sir. Hail to the Judicature.”

-----

On the planet Ranack, in a comfortable chamber, the Judicature sat in counsel. Supreme Judge Morrison was a young man with straight black hair parted down the center, and combed to the back. He spoke through a thin mustache with wedges of separated hair like a comb’s teeth.

“I have received word that the Neimun is resonating. You all know what that means.”

Dreck Hammon had smiling eyes and an easy manner, and he spoke with a soft slow voice full of authority and purpose.

“The crystal takes priority over the battle. If we dominate the entire galaxy, yet hold none or few of the crystals, then our power isn’t secure. The Spirit Guild has had a hundred-year head start, and may already possess a number of them. They also have the knowledge to recreate a destroyed crystal, something we have tried in vain to copy.”

“Once we get the first crystal,” Judge Gebrel said, stroking his bald dome as he salivated, “We can start the experiments and learn how to use its powers.”

“We’ll have more control over creation than the Harn senate ever imagined,” Judge Georgeson smiled.

“If the Spirit Guild doesn’t get them first,” Judge Hammon said with a sigh.

“Relax,” Georgeson said, “they don’t know that we know.”

“Not yet.”

Judge Hammon sat as Supreme Judge Morrison rose, glanced across the tables, and tiredly began.

“The signal has been received, though the coordinates are still general. The northern hemisphere of Hakkut, near the edge of the temperate belt, is our target area. This planet should fall into our hands within the next few days. Our course of action is rather obvious. This crystal must not fall into other hands.

My father theorized that advanced artificial intelligence could mimic the brain of a seeker type and catch the unique signals of each crystal, as is happening on the Neimun. As for their powers, there is no information as to what they are, but my father’s notes indicate the crystals themselves may have a way of conveying that knowledge to their owner.”

“Let’s divert the first legion,” Gebrel suggested, “their loyalty to the Judicature is beyond reproach. What do you think, Supreme Judge?”

“Perfect,” Morrison said, “Once we get the first crystal, we can analyze its powers. If we can’t utilize it, we can keep it from the Spirit Guild at the very least.”