Hey all,
This is my first attmept at writing. I just put a few ideas on paper and a week later I had 30,000 words. I just want to know if the story interests anyone else as much as it does me, and if I could improve it in any way.
This is the first of 6 chapters, with much much more on the way. It is my least favorite chapter, and I hope to vastly improve upon it. Thanks for any help!!!
The Alliance was winning what many now called the ‘Great War’. The Shimanto Corporation had already lost their newest colony in the T’Chou system to Alliance bombardment . The Crucible of Zion had joined forces with the Shimantan’s after the fall of the T’Chou system in an attempt to prevent Alliance domination of the Old Galaxy. The Armada of the Crucible joined with the Shimantan fleet at Ling Mai in a desperate bid to stop the Alliance.
The Battle of Ling Mai had not gone well; the Crucible fleet had been outnumbered and outgunned, and was all but destroyed. The Crucible Armada was known throughout could not stand against the massive Alliance fleet carriers and their hordes of fighters. Seneschal David Akkaid had fallen there, the Crucible’s greatest commander and the most powerful of the Seneschal. His successor, Seneschal Alan Cooper had likewise fallen at Acre in an unsuccessful attempt to trap the Alliance fleet against the orbital defense grid of that world and what remained of the Crucible Armada. Ismaili agents, quasi-human assassins created through the Alliance’s genetic research program, had disabled the planets defenses just hours before the battle. Seneschal Jacob Akkiad, son of David, was now the last of the Seneschal. The fleet defeated, the Seneschal decimated, the High Council was in emergency session.
The five most powerful men in the Crucible gathered in the Salchian on the Crucible homeworld of Zion. The Salchian had been constructed over two centuries ago to house the Holy Relics, most of which where obtained during the Purge of earth in 3475. The fascist Terran Empire had been only too happy to rid themselves of all things religious, and the Crucible, then known only as the ‘Outcast’, had been only too happy to purchase them. The Salchian was more fortress than Temple, and housed the most valuable of the Holy Relics. Over the years the building grew in importance and was now recognized as the center of government in the Crucible, though it had never been intended for that purpose. Five elderly men wearing dark brown robes filed into the nave and gathered around a crescent shaped altar of white marble and took their seats.
Deacon Brown, head of the Catholic Order and chairman of the council of elders, initiated the emergency session. “Gentlemen, these are dark days for the Crucible. Acre has fallen, our armada defeated and the Alliance fleet now threatens Antioch. We, the elders of Zion, must now decide the fate of the Crucible. Shall we continue in our defense of our home, or do we take to the stars as did the Shimantans?”
“We must fight, running is not an option, the Revealing will NOT be defied by the unholy Alliance!” Screamed Deacon Graham. “I don’t give a damn what the cost may be, the Alliance must be shown the consequences of crossing swords with the Crucible!”
An uncomfortable silence followed what could be considered an outburst from the normally solemn Deacon. Several of the Deacons began murmuring among themselves as Seneschal Jacob Akkaid remained at a position of attention. As the last remaining Seneschal, he was the de-facto commander and chief of the Crucible’s armed forces. Had it not been for the civilian oversight of the military, Seneschal Akkaid would still be hounding the Alliance forces to the best of his ability. Though he commanded the military, he himself answered to the Council. The Council maintained many vestigial laws from the ancient American Empire, from which the Crucible was born over two millennium ago.
The Council of Zion, the governing body of the Crucible, was comprised of the five eldest members of the original Outcast Orders, the Teutons, the Catholics, the Hospitallers, the Jesuit and the Masons. After the fall of the American Empire the First Alliance quickly outlawed religion, specifically Christianity, as this had been the greatest strength of the Americans. Given the choice of renouncing their God or being exiled, the vast majority choose exile. For centuries they wandered the stars before a prophet named Muhhamed bin Lobeck wrote the Revealing, now the third book of the old Bible. The revealing led the Outcast to Zion where they formed the Crucible, and swore an oath to defend the Word to their dying breath.
With four of the Alliance’s six fleet carriers still within 5 light years of the Antioch system, Zion itself was not safe. The Orbital Defenses of Antioch could hold off the bulk of the Alliance fleet, but without fleet support the Alliance could still launch an invasion.
“Can you hold Antioch until the world can be evacuated Honorable Seneschal?” asked Deacon O’Malley, leader of the Hospitaler Order, a sect considered liberal by Crucible standards. “And please dear Seneschal, take a seat, you are among equals here.”
Jacob awkwardly took a seat, his back still at rigid attention. “I can delay any invasion attempts, but with the remains of the fleet tied up in Antioch, Zion would be left open to attack.”
“You ask us to stand and fight when by your own words you cannot defend Zion itself!” screamed Deacon Graham, head of the Teutonic Order, the hardliners of the Crucible. “As I said, I believe we should fight on, but how can I vote to continue a war that you just told me cannot be won?”
“Deacon, I told you nothing of the sort. I cannot face four Alliance carriers and hope to win, nor do I have to attack four carriers in order to continue the war. Seneschal Cooper, may he walk with the Lord, rolled the dice in baiting them to the Acre System, and he lost. We do not have the forces to fight the Alliance head on, and so we shall not. The Alliance may have won Acre, but they have left their own space undefended.” He could tell the last part caught their attention.
“Are you serious? You propose to invade the Alliance? What possible good would that do the Crucible? You said yourself Seneschal, the fleet is needed to defend Zion!” Deacon O’Malley barley hid his contempt for the idea of continuing the war.
“The Tachyon collectors in the Dartmouth system have only a small Alliance flotilla defending them. A strike, a successful strike, at the station would cripple the Alliance’s force projection capabilities, and could very well force them to withdraw their forces from Acre.” Jacob pondered the truth of his statement, knowing full well that what remained of the once mighty Crucible fleet was hardly in a position to go off chasing the Alliance, but what choice was there? Turn and run, leaving the lands promised to them in the Revealing to be razed and sucked dry by Alliance mining corps? As a member of the Akaran Order, Jacob considered it his sacred duty to defend the worlds given to the Crucible in the Revealing.
Deacon Graham looked down at the ornate marble table before him, flipping through after action reports on the HoloNet. He then addressed Jacob rather sternly. “Your father, may he walk with the Lord, was a proud man. He died defending the Shimantans at Ling Mai, willingly giving his life for a people who despised him. I fear the Akaran blood that flows through your veins may cloud your judgment.” The Deacon let out a long sigh and continued. “ However, if you truly believe we can continue this war, let it not be said a Teuton had not the heart for a fight. You have my vote young Jacob, do not make me regret it.”
“Mine as well, the Mason’s have never run from a fight. I must warn you however, my agents tell me moral is very high among the Alliance. The news holos say that Admiral Horstooth claims Antioch will fall within a standard month, and that the Armada of the Crucible is a shell of its former self.” Deacon Isaac D’Arno, head of the Crucible’s intelligence wing Massoud, was a frail elderly man, but few ever crossed the old Deacon. The few who had were either missing or forgotten. “I understand moral in the fleet is not what it used to be. Spirit can be just as much a deciding factor as ships dear Seneschal.”
“Low moral is a natural result of defeat, and is replenished just as quickly with even the most minor of victories.” Quipped Jacob, never intimidated my men who wore no uniform. So fast to make decisions sending millions to their death, so quick to lay the burden of failure on the shoulders of the brave.
“This is ridiculous, you plan to send what little forces we have left on what you say yourself is an insignificant operation? You will leave Zion itself defenseless for a ‘minor victory’? I will not vote for a measure that leaves us no chance of withdrawing to safer stars!” Deacon O’Malley seemed almost defeated, never having made a secret of his desires to flee Zion to a safer world. His Hospitallers had even gone so far as claiming the Revealing had been misinterpreted, that the Promised Land lay within the Daemon constellation. He had never made public his own support of this view, but few had doubts. Always an ambitious one, Deacon O’Malley saw opportunity in leading the exodus, fancying himself as the new ‘Moses’.
“As I have said already, the action may be a minor skirmish in fleet on fleet action, but the loss of the Tachyon collectors could be disastrous to the Alliance’s plans in this sector.” Jacob eyed Deacon Abbot, knowing his vote would be the deciding factor, Deacon Brown, as chairman of the council and head of the Church of Zion, would never abandon Zion as long as a man was left to defend it.
“You all know where my vote lies.” Said Deacon Brown, “What say you Deacon Abbot?”
“I regret that this war must continue at all. I have worn the sash of the Legion, and I remember full well the terrors of war. But I cannot in good faith abandon that lands the Lord gave to us unless I know it is the only way the Word can survive.” The Deacon straightened his back, looking down from his bench at Jacob. “Neither will I leave Zion undefended with three quarters of the Alliance fleet at our doorstep. What forces can you leave in defense of our home?”
“Of the Arch-Angel class Battlecruisers, only the Gabriel remains 100 percent operational. I plan to take the Gabriel, two Luther class heavy cruisers and four Seraphim class destroyers.”
A slight grin passed Jacobs lips as he named the latter. The Seraphim class had been his own brain child. A long, slender vessel, Jacob had gotten the idea from a holo about a Great War on old Earth. The German country, having not the naval forces to face the Allies in open warfare, used submarine vessels to launch surprise attacks against Allied forces. The Seraphim even resembled the old “U-boats” in form as well as function. At 250 meters long and 50 meters wide, the Seraphim was not a large ship. Nor did it carry the armament of a true destroyer. In place of the usual M-FAC batteries, Neutron Torpedo launchers and point defense cannons, the Seraphim carried only 4 large AkaraTek PAC-10 particle accelerators. These giant cannons ran nearly the length of the ship. The hull was coated in Omnispectrum panels, reflecting nearly all energy around the hull, making it invisible to anything other than a spot beam scanner. The only draw back was the tremendous cost of the Omnispectrum plating. Made from refined promethium, so rare that most worlds contained only a few kilograms, the Seraphim were irreplaceable.
Jacob summarized the Dartmouth Operation for the tenth time that day. “The Gabriel, along with the Luther cruisers CSF Faith and CSF Grace, will engage the enemy flotilla while the Seraphims penetrate the orbital defense grid and take out the Tachyon reflector station.” “The rest of the fleet is in desperate need of repair, as is many of the crew. Leaving them in orbit at Zion is the only option.” Jacob eyed the wizened old D’Arno “Does the Alliance know the extent of the damage inflicted on the fleet Deacon D’Arno?”
“My agents tell me Admiral Horstooth reported the Gabriel and Michael as heavily damaged, along with most of the Luthers. They are still unaware of the existence of the twelve Seraphim.”
“Then it is decided” Deacon Brown rose to his feet, everyone else in the room followed suit, Jacob looking relieved to be back at attention. “The Gabriel and the rest of the ships you have requested will depart for the Dartmouth system, the rest of the fleet will remain in Zion orbit for repairs.” “The matter of evacuation will be debated further, and I am sure the outcome of this expedition will weigh heavily on our decision.”
Back in his apartment, Jacob greeted to his wife Jade and his three daughters. After a rather quiet dinner Jacob retired to his office. The room was decorated in the styling of old Victorian Earth, the floor a very high quality Oak simulation. Book shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient texts from Old Earth, some dating back to the late 20th century. Jacob took a seat at his father’s, or rather his own, desk. This was not SimOak, but the real thing, a gift from the High Chancellor of the Alliance back before the War. A huge thing, it had taken 2 MagLift carts to get it into the office. Rich, dark wood surrounded a dark marble surface. Three HoloFrames held pictures of his family. He fell into the chair a watched two of his daughters recite the story of Job in one of the HoloFrames. It felt like the weight of the world rested squarely on his shoulders, and in a way it did. He asked himself “How did it come to this?”.
It wasn’t very long ago that the Alliance and Crucible were on such good terms that re-unification had been discussed. The radical liberals had long since been expelled from office, and new laws had brought an end to the insanely immoral Empire. No one would have guessed the turn in relations when High Chancellor Jorge Argano was elected two centuries ago, along with his Populist cronies. It seemed as if the public fed off Argano’s anger. Each day brought a new condemnation of the ‘Zionists’, as if some how the Crucible was the cause of the Alliance’s economic woes. When the Chancellors new government turned the economy around, through heavy handed government controls, it confirmed to the populace that the Shimantans and Zionists must have been the cause all along. Resolution after resolution passed through parliament. At first they were simply hikes in tariffs placed on Shimantan goods and limitations on visiting Zionist missionaries. Soon after, it was complete trade embargoes and revocation of all visas and passports. Once the Populists had completely isolated themselves from the rest of the Old Galaxy, they began citing every trouble, and in some cases natural disaster, as an act of sabotage by Zionist or Shimantan agents. Zionist missionaries and their recent converts were rounded up and deported, or worse. Shimantan technology and goods were banned.
There was no first shot, no declaration of war. The Alliance simply jumped into the T’chou system and began bombarding T’chou prime, the Shimantans youngest colony. So unexpected was the strike, the Shimantan fleet was hundreds of light years away, participating in a ‘friendship’ cruise with the Crucible fleet. What little defenses in the system soon succumbed to giant bolts of star hot plasma. By the time the fleet arrived, the surface of T’chou was a molten slag of silicon and iron, entire sections of crust missing in some places. Billions of people dead and not even a declaration of war. The Techno-crat ships were the pinnacle of technology, but where no match for twelve Alliance fleet carriers. The Crucible immediately condemned the attack as an act of senseless aggression and plain old murder. Envoys where sent, diplomats contacted, but the only explanation given was that the attack “was necessary to ensure the safety of Alliance Space.”
The Techno-crats and Zionists had never been allies, and at best maintained a shaky acquaintanceship, but the isolationist attitudes and overtly hostile actions of the Alliance forced them into an impromptu alliance. The Arch Angel class ships, the CSF Uriel and the CSF Selaphiel became the vanguard of a mighty Crucible Armada destined to the Ling Mai system, the largest Techno-crat colony outside of Sai An, the techno-crat home world. Leading that armada was Jacob’s father Seneschal John Akkaid, the eldest and most powerful of the Seneschal. He had risen swiftly through the ranks of the Guardian’s of Zion, an elite religious and military sect dedicated to the prophecy of the Revealing. It was said his abilities in the Will were beyond non-divine explanation. As a leader he was among the greatest, as a warrior he was simply without equal.
All of this was the past. Jacob reminded himself the present, and more importantly, the near future, required his full attention. He removed the intricately detailed Templar armor from his fore arms and torso, hanging it on the ancient Oak mannequin that had been his fathers. He paced the room, letting the click of his jackboot heels against the simoak floor sooth his thoughts. He hadn’t lied to the council after all, this really was possible. Truth be told the heaviest weight on his mind at the moment was how to tell his wife he would be leading what was left of the Armada deep into Alliance territory. His father had been a father to her as well since her own had passed, and his loss at the Battle of Ling Mai had hit her as hard as it had hit him. Planning this operation had been a snap; it was second nature after 40 years of Guardian training. How to tell his wife that he would be leading an assault eight light years into Alliance space was not.
, I've cut it short.
