Worldbuilding Prompt #519 - On Death Ground

Welcome to the next episode of the space opera I've been creating inspired by writing prompts in the Worldbuilding Community. Never fear, we're getting close to the grand finale !

This episode is inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding community - Worldbuilding Prompt #519 - Dangerous places

"Have the Fleetmaster of the Thirtieth Fleet flogged with nerve-whips immediately !" Admiral Vakmar squawked in anger and frustration. "Then tell Fifty Eighth Fleet to attack. I want them to break that cordon ! We only need to gain another fifty light years !"

The Confederation fleet was surrounded, deep in Imperial Space. Vakmar commanded a massive armada, millions of ships, but they were outnumbered as the Imperials threw more and more of their reserves into the fiery fray.

All of Vakmar's ships were expendable, all they needed to do was to press forward and have the Nova-Wavefront Accelerator device within ten light years of the Tharwell system at the moment the weaponised tax box dropped back into existence.

The potential energy released in the box would be released in an instant, Tharwell would go hypernova, and the Accelerator would do it's job. It would take the radiation blast wave from the hypernova and convert it's expansion from light speed to instantaneous.

Imperial worlds a hundred light years away wouldn't have a century to evacuate, they'd be fried with no warning. The destruction and dislocation would increase by orders of magnitude. Confederation fleets held in reserve would sweep in, taking advantage of the chaos, and the Allied Imperiae would finally fall, after millennia of grinding stalemate.

Vakmar had a fast light cruiser docked and ready. He didn't care about the lives of the millions of slaves and their masters in his Slaver fleet, or their robotic Einheriar allies, or any of the other minor races that composed their massive armada. He was determined to survive and collect his reward at the end of all this. He wondered how many of his subordinates had the same treasonous idea.

Image by Pavel Kapitanov from Pixabay

Image by Peter Fischer from Pixabay

Commodore Deroma came to, regaining conciousnes slowly, her head pounding with the worst migraine she could imagine. What... where.... how.... ?

"Oh Alex, you're alive ! I wasn't sure you were going to make it !"

She realised she was lying down, cradled in the arms of Lieutenant Yalandri. Something warm was blocking one eye. Something warm and red. Blood. Probably her own.

"Wha ?" she queried, woozily.

"We got away Alex. I think we're the only pod that made it. The Servalan is gone. The whole Battle Corps is gone. Do you remember ? They ordered us in against that Slaver push. We did good. We almost made it to five minutes. I... I think we're all that's left."

Alex lifted a hand to wipe away the blood. It was shaking, she struggled to control it. With her eyes wiped clean, she could see close above her face the clear viewport of the escape pod.

In the distance, she could see occasional twinkles in space as ships and men fought and died in unimaginable numbers. Holding Yalandri close, she shut her eyes and wept, knowing she had failed.

Image created by AI in Wombo.art

In Imperial Headquarters, the mood was grim. The Holostrat Display showed a dense fuzzy red blob that was the enemy fleet, surrounded by a green globe of Imperial forces that were struggling without success to contain it's relentless advance. Brief white flashes showed where whole squadrons ceased to exist.

The enemy had taken several weeks to re-organise after the success of Operation Moonfall, but once they had, they'd struck deep into Imperial Space with a determination that hadn't been seen before. This was no mere raid or broad offensive; it was a massive strike with a single objective the enemy were determined to reach no matter the cost.

"What reserves do you have, Lord Kvanar ?" asked Korvrell Ti Shonordihe of his fellow arch-warlord.

"Nothing. We've thrown everything we've got at them, and they aren't stopping. Diversionary attacks are stopping us pulling forces from other fronts, and they just don't seem to care about their flanks or rear, or how many ships they lose. They're just driving at Tharwell System with all they've got."

Then there was a change. The red blob stopped moving. Near it's forward edge, the Holostrat picked up and identified something different. It showed it as a tiny yellow dot, eight light years from Tharwell. It was surrounded by a faint sphere with a ten light year radius. Despite being just a holographic icon, there was something deadly, threatening about that shadowy sphere.

"I think..... they are there. I'm getting a feed; that yellow dot is a device 3275-A Battle Corps tried to salvage but couldn't. Whatever it is, it has an effective range of ten light years."

At this point, ASP Lord-Leader Trevillon spoke up. "Gentlemen, I think this will be something to do with that tax box. I don't know what, exactly, but it's clearly essential to the enemy plan. All we can hope is that my agents on Tharwell can stop the box coming back."

He smiled a grim smile. "It's crunch time, my friends. And all we can do is sit here and watch."

To be continued.......

There are also a few related posts from this setting which introduce some of the characters;

Captain Holmen was introduced in Worldbuilding Prompt #471 - A Question of Jurisdiction
Imperial Infomancer Dranton turned up in Worldbuilding Prompt #467 - The Imperial Halls of Information
Greville and the Tarnished Phoenix first appeared in Worldbuilding Prompt #432 - Debris, gaining velocity and energy