Rise of Aen Read online

  Himalayan Mountains, Mount Kailash, Tibet -

  Two Days, Six Hours since Arrival

  The days had gone by quietly on the mountain ridge camp, with few incidents to warrant any excitement. Only a nearby pass of an alien warship caused a stir of panic, but it flew by without noticing them. Whatever barriers the monks had installed around the encampment had made them invisible to the threat of attack. So life went on for the people huddled here, and they watched eagerly while the world turned upside down.

  Life as Sara remembered it was gone, and what life she may have when this was over was truly incomprehensible at the moment, with the outcome of all this undecided. In fact, it was this unknown hanging over them all that added an air of tension to the small colony. Here they were safe, but for how long and what would be left for them when it was over remained unanswered.

  It had been two days since the sky to the west had lit up brilliantly; two days since humanity started to fight back. In that time the few news feeds still reporting told of small and inspiring victories along with tragic and crushing defeats. None were more staggering then the news from Moscow of the horrible loss of life, including the loss of the best weapon humanity had: Aen.

  Sara struggled with the news from the second she heard it—Aen was dead. Her heart sank immediately as she longed to find some sort of flaw in the reports to prove them wrong. Then she saw the footage. It was transmitted live before cutting out from the cataclysmic blast that killed and destroyed the entire Russian capitol, but before it did it showed Aen’s heroic last act and the enormous fire that engulfed him afterwards. Nothing could have survived that, not even him.

  The entire room had turned to the monks who had no answers to soothe their frayed nerves for they too had watched the bright hope of humanity fall. So much was going on, so much had gone wrong. And the one question on all their minds—the one that the monks always failed to answer quickly—was where was the help they were promised?

  Sara left the group huddled around the TV and wandered outside, slowly making her way to the perch above the camp to find some solace; her mind racing through the awful news. Her reporter instincts had begun to kick in and she wanted to know more; craved more information on what happened after the cameras were destroyed. The only answers had come from a brief satellite image of a smouldering crater near the center of a now barren wasteland. Moscow—and all her inhabitants—were gone!

  Her body was on automatic, her mind obviously elsewhere as she pushed through the brush to her destination. Branches scratched at her skin, scraping and cutting her arms and face, but she didn’t react to them at all. For the first time since this all started, Sara felt alone and helpless and it reverted her to a state like when her father had been killed. Her mind was frozen, locked in a confused and frantic state. Somewhere inside, she knew it was never going to go to plan; she knew that the odds were so stacked against humanity to even stay in this fight long enough for the Lyarrans to arrive. The fact that Aen was there was a wild card, but still a meagre force to go up against an advanced alien race. And now he was gone, leaving nothing to stand between them and annihilation.

  But hope was a funny thing, and something inside Sara told her that they hadn’t lost yet. A feeling, deep inside the core of her being was screaming to stay positive, and by the time she had reached the small cliff there was a small smile on her face. With all the losses suffered in the last few days, they were still here and that was saying a lot. Sara knew of the other encampments the monks had created, and knew they too were hidden from the aliens as well as she knew they hadn’t yet been able to drop the collection vessels due to massive resistance every time they tried. Just this morning a drop ship cruised along the western coast of Africa and was subsequently destroyed by a submarine’s missiles before it submerged into the depths once more. Humanity wasn’t done yet—not by a longshot!

  Along with the crippling of the alien mother ship by the secret weapon in the desert, hope was abundant and even rampant amongst the survivors of the first two days. Day three had opened with a mighty swing of momentum and now they had to fight tooth and nail to keep it on their side. Sara knew there was little she could do—reporters had little use in a time like this and even if she decided to do some reporting from here, she feared that it might give away their secret location to the Husk and risk the lives of all hidden here. So she sat tight and waited and like everyone else she kept hoping that today would continue to be the push towards victory.

  Groom Lake Military Installation –

  Code Name Area 51, Nevada -

  Two Days Six Hours since Arrival

  In the moments after the Husk ship was struck by the Thunderwell rounds, the aliens were disorganized and more than a bit lost. Drop ships and cruisers just hung in the air, motionless, waiting for direction as they were cut off from the hive mind above. Infantry kept fighting with the human military forces, but lacked organization and the focused ferocity of earlier fights. Indeed the obscure weapon had proved to be effective, but there was no way it would work a second time. Now the Earth forces started to push back hard, now was the time to cause some kind of losses to the enemy while they still could.

  Patterson sent a flurry of orders to carry out attacks all over the world, all the while watching the clock on the wall. He figured they had little more than an hour to hit the Husk hard while they were down before they could regain some composure and resume their attack. It was a gamble, but one that needed to be taken.

  All those in the war room in the Nevada Desert scurried about trying to carry out the tasks at hand while there was still time. The Naval forces had been moving since yesterday from their hiding spots around the globe and began to engage the enemy on all fronts. Battle groups inland had been reinforced mightily with whatever was needed to push the Husk backwards. Jets and bombers were inbound on stationary cruisers and ships to inflict the most damage possible while they still could. It was an all or nothing push—this was the point of no return.

  Reports began to trickle in as measures of success were being achieved. Bombers damaged the sleeping cruisers, the army began to push back the west coast advance, and the Navy began to deter the east coast forces from gaining a foothold. Similar reports also came in from around the globe; an hour had passed since the massive ship overhead had gone offline and everything was going well. Thoughts that maybe the Husk ship was dead and just drifting began to creep into Patterson’s mind; maybe this was the beginning of the end and humanity had held its own. As the minutes ticked by those thoughts became stronger and stronger. Just as he was about to think these thoughts were a reality, Patterson saw the sleeping ship move—time was up!

  Angrily, the Harvester spun itself to face the planet nose-on once more and opened fire with its point-of-defense weapons. While not the damage inducing nightmare the main cannon was, the plasma turrets belched out a hot, hellish rain of white hot plasma on the east coast. As the ship turned, so did the destructive rain as it burned from Halifax down to Miami. Cruisers began to let loose barrages of plasma as well and ground infantry advanced with no mercy; the Husk were angry and began to reassert their dominance. Patterson’s heart sunk—this was truly the beginning of the end, but not for victory for humanity.

  Satellite images showed retreats on all fronts—though none were ordered—as the Husk hit and hit hard. Front lines were obliterated in seconds, despite the heavy battlements used to reinforce them. Cities burned and ash fell from the sky; the proverbial doomsday was upon them. The long-time soldier sighed and wondered if it was indeed time to throw in the towel. Around him, the bustling room was now silent as all looked to him for orders. Patterson had no answers—in truth, he wanted to look to someone else too.

  At the exact moment he was about to order a complete withdrawal to the jungles and wilderness areas, the radio crackled that had been lost due to the EMP crackled to life. It was a soft, but stern voice that eventually rose over the static
, but it spoke in a language no one could understand. It repeated the same thing twice before the voice let out a frustrated sigh, then silence. Everyone, including Patterson, gathered around the radio and anxiously waited for something more. The minutes ticked by quietly; in a time of desperation this silence was agonizing. Then came a high pitched whistle that backed everyone off a bit as their ears rang from the interference. After the whistle died, the voice returned and spoke in fractured English.

  “Command of Terra Sol, this is the Dark Light of Lyarran Empire. Do you require assistance?”

  Momentum is a funny thing; right when you think it is lost, it swings back to you once more.

  Moscow, Russia - Two Days, Eighteen Hours since Arrival

  Aen awoke slowly, but as he attempted to open his eyes he realized there was nothing to see. He was buried under dirt and debris; obviously still at the bottom of the blast crater which was once Moscow. His whole body ached, but the cold soil soothed the burning that was the reforming of his skin blown apart by the plasma meteor that hit him dead on. Aen was alive, but he certainly didn’t feel like it.

  It was an odd feeling, being buried alive, one that he figured would strike a lot more fear in him then it did. But recent events made something like this seem like a trip to an amusement park. So instead of panic, Aen actually chuckled; the situation was as unique as could be and there was no telling how deep he was buried so digging his way out of his makeshift grave like a Hollywood zombie was out of the question. So he decided to move himself to the main deck of the Amarra.

  Concentrating, he felt his heart race and his body reacted by pushing back with huge amounts of pain that coursed through his tattered frame. For the first time since his rebirth, the process was actually a difficult one. Inside his mind, he reached down deep to push aside the flowing river of agony, making a mental dam so he could shed his surroundings and leave his failure behind. It took a great deal of effort, but at last he felt the power surge in his chest and bathe him in its wash. With a tremendous flash—amplified by the fact he was in the dark underground—he vanished. The basin of the crater above bulged, then collapsed, as the soil beneath was vacated by its prized possession and small tendrils of smoke and dust arose. To anyone looking from above, it looked as though the ground had shifted and nothing more.

  In a flash, Aen was back on the Amarra—naked, burned horribly and filthy, but free of his dirt prison. He gasped deeply, and though he did not need the air he was more than glad he was able to breathe it once more. The metal-grated floor was ice cold on his skin, soothing the pain that had broken through the temporary mental block he had put in place to come here. He was amazed at how bright it was in the room and became aware of the vibration in the deck he lay upon; the Amarra had been resurrected while he had been gone and was more alive than ever!

  “There you are,” the AI cooed, “For a while there I was beginning to think the Husk had destroyed you!”

  Although in the past Aen had been more than annoyed to hear the whining drone of the constructs voice, he was never happier than now to hear it again. He was where he needed to be, and remembering the visit from the Empress there was much to do here before it all fell apart.

  NINETEEN

  Lyarran Vessel Dark Light, Beyond Earth Orbit -

  Three Days, two hours since Arrival

  Lyxia had all stations reporting ready for battle as the Dark Light bust out of jump space. A mild bit of frustration rolled in her as they were far off the intended mark; they sat four million miles away from Terra Sol on the vertical plain, looking down at the ongoing devastation. They had arrived just in time to watch the Husk Harvester take heavy damage from some kind of ballistic weapon on the surface; a crude show of force but wildly effective, she thought. So as the Husk lay dead and motionless, Lyxia knew their timing could not have been more perfect and they had arrived undetected. An emergency venting of the jump space reactors was ordered, and the sub-light engines were brought online—it was time for the Dark light to turn the tide.

  As they lurched forward, she tried to find a way to contact the strategic command of the planet. As much as she wanted to just go ahead and intervene, there were rules in place about first contact with a civilization that couldn’t be ignored even in the midst of a battle. Landing a few thousand Ifierin on the surface was bound to add more confusion and fear to the inhabitants of Terra Sol then they already had. A quick scan of the planet’s atmosphere showed a multitude of radio wavelengths; primitive but effective. Lyxia just hoped that the EMP interference had dissipated enough for her to break through.

  It took an hour to find a usable connection before she was able to send a message, by then the Husk had come alive again and began to hammer the planet with fire and brute force; they were pissed beyond belief at being struck so hard! Once the line was free she formally announced their presence and intentions, but no response. Again she tried and still there was no response, she sighed in frustration while still on the air. Breaking the connection, Lyxia began to think how she could overcome the language barrier that obviously was keeping any contact from being achieved; then it hit her!

  “Amarra AI, are you still connected?” she asked aloud with all those in the Operations Control looking back at her. A moment lapsed before the response came.

  “Always at your service, Council, how can I assist you?” Caretaker

  replied.

  “I need a translator for the human dialect, construct; the creatures don’t understand the Imperial language as of yet.”

  “Ah yes, it is English you require and I believe in know where to send the signal for such a transmission.” It went on. “I shall make some adjustments to your signal so you can speak on your end and be translated on their end and vice-versa. It should make for a signal delay of…”

  “I don’t care construct, just fucking do it!” Lyxia’s patience was non-existent. She turned her attention to the rest of the stations. “Get me a layout of what is happening down there and tell Axyn to get his Ifierin ready to drop! Power up the PAC and prepare the turrets, we will engage as soon as we are in range!”

  Attention drew away from her and back to the task at hand—they were less than an hour away from PAC range. Lyxia drummed her fingers on her console, and waited at high intensity for the AI to finish his adjustments.

  “Axyn reports that drop ships will be ready in ten minutes,” a tech called out.

  “Husk ship targeted and cannons ready to fire,” another added. “Forty minutes from firing range!”

  “Connection is made and translator is in place, Council—it is ready to go when you are,” Caretaker chimed in as well.

  Lyxia leaned in to the microphone of the console and spoke firmly, hoping this damn thing knew what it was doing. She worried that it was unstable due to all the unfettered time on the planet, left to advance itself against regulations.

  “Command of Terra Sol, this is the Dark Light of Lyarran Empire. Do you require assistance?” she spoke and heard her words turned into a foreign language. There was a long pause before a gruff male voice replied. It was near gibberish at first then the translator kicked in.

  “Yes, we require assistance!” the voice said full of anxiousness. “You are the help that Aen spoke of?”

  “We are the immediate assistance requested by the Harbinger, yes.” She replied. “My ship is on an intercept course and will be on station shortly. I ask your permission to land ground forces to assist you on the battlefront?”

  “As much as it pains me to land more aliens on Earth, we need all the help you can muster. Hopefully we softened them up a bit for you,” The man said sorrowfully.

  Lyxia smiled, she could tell this was a proud soldier who was close to admitting defeat before they had arrived. Though short, this battle had taken a huge toll on the inhabitants of Terra Sol, she hoped it was not too late to save it.

  “You have fought valiant
ly, Terra Sol Command, and have fared better than many others before you. The Husk have broken many stronger and better equipped worlds before you, yet we see you have pushed them farther than any could expect. Help is here, the Empire holds you in its favor as we seek to shield you from this horror. We shall fight together for glory and victory! Hold on Terra Sol, we shall light the sky with our arrival.”

  Lyxia ended the transmission and hoped her little speech had restored a semblance of fire within those to hear it. She knew they had endured much and the pain being rained down on them was tremendous, but now was not the time to quit, not yet.

  Lyarran Vessel Amarra, South Pacific -

  Three days, Four Hours since Arrival

  Aen was tired, but knew there was no time to rest now as he began to work on the adjustments in the reactor room of the Amarra. With the help of some repair drones, he had created a work platform to control the ship from just in front of the massive jump space reactor while still being connected to it. A harness hung behind him with wires and various connections ran from it to connect to all three of the reactors and a myriad of other systems. On the side of the harness that attached to Aen, a spike was ready to pierce his body, connecting to his powerful heart, the heart that would pump energy and fuel the ship. Boots were welded to the floor to keep him stationary and the harness was secured at a certain height—all designed to keep him upright the entire time he was connected.

  In his mind, he was still trying to solve the riddle of the Empress. Use Ameia’s last standing legacy against the Harvester, the words could mean so many different things. Aen had planned on using what he could of the Amarra’s defenses to assist in the fight, but was severely limited in usable ammunition. The PA cannons were ready to fire, but it was a big if that they would. Turrets were semi-operational; only five worked properly out of the seventeen that lined her hull with two that would work intermittently. In a nutshell, the Amarra was more a shield than a hammer.