Fallen Empire: A Military Science Fiction Epic Adventure (Born of Ash Book 1) Read online

  Fallen Empire

  Book 1

  Born of Ash

  Marc Alan Edelheit

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Fallen Empire: Book 1, Born of Ash

  First Edition

  Copyright © 2021 by Marc Edelheit. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. WGA Registration #2113965

  I wish to thank my agent, Andrea Hurst, for her invaluable support and assistance. I would also like to thank my beta readers, who suffered through several early drafts. My betas: Jon Cockes, Nicolas Weiss, Paul Klebaur, James Doak, David Cheever, Bruce Heaven, Erin Penny, April Faas, Rodney Gigone, Tim Adams, Paul Bersoux, Phillip Broom, David Houston, Sheldon Levy, Michael Hetts, Walker Graham, Bill Schnippert, Jan McClintock, Jonathan Parkin, Spencer Morris, Jimmy McAfee, Rusty Juban, Joel M. Rainey, Jeremy Craig, Nathan Halliday, Ed Speight, Joseph Hall, Michael Berry, Tom Trudeau, Sally Tingley-Walker, James H. Bjorum, Franklin Johnson, Marshall Clowers, Dane Smith, Brian Thomas, Adrian Lee, Lance Dahl, Patrick James Mencini. I would also like to take a moment to thank my loving wife, who sacrificed many an evening and weekends to allow me to work on my writing.

  Editing Assistance by Hannah Streetman, Audrey Mackaman, Brandon Purcell

  Cover Art by Piero Mng (Gianpiero Mangialardi)

  Cover Formatting by Telemachus Press

  Agented by Andrea Hurst & Associates, LLC

  http://maenovels.com/

  Other books by Marc Alan Edelheit.

  Chronicles of a Legionary Officer:

  Book One: Stiger’s Tigers

  Book Two: The Tiger

  Book Three: The Tiger’s Fate

  Book Four: The Tiger’s Time

  Book Five: The Tiger’s Wrath

  Book Six: The Tiger’s Imperium

  Book Seven: The Tiger’s Fight (Coming 2022)

  Book Eight: TBA (Coming 2022)

  Tales of the Seventh:

  Part One: Stiger

  Part Two: Fort Covenant

  Part Three: A Dark Foretoken

  Part Four: Thresh (2022)

  The Karus Saga:

  Book One: Lost Legio IX

  Book Two: Fortress of Radiance

  Book Three: The First Compact

  Book Four: TBA

  Born of Ash:

  Book One: Fallen Empire

  Book Two: Infinity Control (Coming 2021)

  Book Three: Rising Phoenix (Coming 2022)

  The Way of Legend: With Quincy J. Allen

  Book One: Reclaiming Honor

  Book Two: Forging Destiny

  Book Three: Paladin’s Light (Coming 2021)

  Nonfiction:

  Every Writer’s Dream: The Insider’s Path to an Indie Bestseller

  Marc’s note:

  You may wish to sign up to my newsletter to get the latest updates on my writing.

  http://maenovels.com/

  Reviews keep me motivated and also help to drive sales. I make a point to read each and every one, so please continue to post them.

  I hope you enjoy Fallen Empire and would like to offer a sincere thank you for your purchase and support.

  Best regards,

  Marc Alan Edelheit, Author

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Stiger’s Tigers

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  About the Author

  A Note from the Author

  Chapter One

  Location: Sol System

  Date: 2432, Imperial Standard

  “Hyperspatial transition complete,” a calm, almost deadened voice announced. “Gravity restoration in process.”

  Admiral Kane opened his eyes as the nausea triggered by the hyperjump transition faded. Several seconds later it passed altogether. It took a few moments for his senses to return to a semblance of normal, his thoughts to work themselves out. He swallowed, blinked, and focused on taking deep breaths as the ship’s gravity was restored and his vision began to focus.

  Around the edges of the flag bridge, ensconced in their shielded battle pods, his staff, were beginning to return to work as each recovered. He could hear half a dozen muted conversations and comm calls as they began to bring order to the chaos of his fleet’s jump.

  The powerful sensor suite of the ship would be working to gather information on the star system they had just jumped into. Specially tasked, enhanced, and fully sentient constructs, along with a handful of higher-level artificial intellects, were even now analyzing data, identifying both friendly and enemy units, and determining any immediate threats to the fleet.

  “Report,” Kane demanded of his personal construct, which had spoken earlier.

  “We are still piecing together the pertinent data,” the construct reported in a disembodied voice.

  Kane had intentionally stripped it of any sort of personality and prohibited the construct from taking a holographic representation. He wanted a dispassionate AI when it came to his assistant, not something he had the potential for becoming emotionally attached to.

  “The situation at first glance appears quite chaotic, fluid even,” the construct continued. “There is a flood of data that must be assimilated. Several of my fellow intellects are having difficulty putting it all together. They require time, Admiral.”

  Kane could only imagine. Despite that understanding, he felt an intense stab of frustration and gripped the armrests on his chair. He should have disregarded his orders and come straight here. Instead, he had gone to Seagate first, to deal with the situation there, to put that fire out.

  “What I can tell you,” the AI said, “is that the fleet has made the transition successfully. There are no missing or seriously damaged ships. The only significant issue to report, operational-wise, is the Koenig. She has suffered a failure in her number two gravity drive. All other ships are coming to battle stations. Full readiness reports are coming in. However, from an initial scan and ping of each ship’s construct, I expect no additional major issues, at least in the short term.”

  “The Koenig—is she able to get underway?” The Koenig was one of his older battlecruisers, but
still an invaluable asset, one he could not afford to replace. The raised operational tempo of the last few months was beginning to take a serious toll on not only his crews, but also on his ships, especially the older ones. Hell, the entire fleet needed to put into a shipyard for drive and general maintenance.

  “She is able to make speed at two-thirds power,” the AI reported. “Repair of her drive is expected to take a minimum of twelve hours. That estimate may be overly optimistic. I would anticipate fifteen at best.”

  “Well,” Kane said, “that is a minor blessing in and of itself. A gimpy battlecruiser I can deal with. Bring up the main holographic display, tactical net only. Show me the space around the fleet. I want a map of the entire system when it is available.”

  “As you wish, Admiral,” the construct said. “Please keep in mind, the data tracked by our long-range sensors is still incomplete. It will take some minutes to fully populate the system map.”

  “I understand,” Kane said. He had expected nothing different.

  The large holographic tank, the central feature on the admiral’s bridge, flared to life in midair, showing him the space directly around his command, the Ninety-Second Imperial Shock Fleet.

  He unhooked himself from the restraints that held him in his chair and stood, eyes fixated on what the ship’s powerful sensors were reading and detecting, both at the speed of light and beyond, through the dimensional barrier.

  His fleet was seriously understrength, but it was still powerful and, more importantly, an experienced formation. The core of the Ninety-Second consisted of fifty-one capital ships, including dreadnaughts, battleships, battlecruisers, heavy cruisers, and the all-important fleet carriers, of which he had four. There were more than double the number of escorts, escort carriers, light cruisers, destroyers, and frigates. He even had a handful of the smaller gunboats at his disposal and a detachment of thirty assault transports, holding an entire division of imperial marines. That in and of itself was impressive, for he doubted there were very many intact infantry divisions left around the empire.

  Informational tags began appearing in the display, identifying friendly ships, hostiles, wrecks, and navigational hazards around his fleet. They flooded the display. It was clear to him, in an instant, a massive battle had been fought before the jump gate. Wreckage was strewn all over the area. His ships, as they powered their way away from the gate, plowed through the mess. With a casual ease, their energy shields shoved the debris aside, pushing both large and small chunks of twisted material that had once been fully functional starships out of the way.

  One of his battleships fired her main batteries. From amidst the mass of wreckage, a heavily damaged enemy cruiser had ignited its gravity drive. It was a poor attempt at flight, limping away from the imperial fleet at one-tenth power, a fraction of its normal speed. The crew had to know there was no hope of survival, and yet they still attempted to escape.

  The battleship’s powerful masers slammed into the ship. The cruiser’s shields, already fluctuating due to prior battle damage, flared briefly, almost pathetically, and collapsed under the onslaught of highly focused energy. Armor boiled, then a heartbeat later, the cruiser winked out of existence on the holographic display. The informational tag changed to wreckage and a navigational hazard warning.

  Several hundred of the enemy had just died. Kane felt no remorse, no regret, only a brief stab of satisfaction. They had earned their fate and his fleet had long since stopped taking prisoners, other than for the purpose of obtaining information. The enemy did not take prisoners either. They never had.

  A destroyer out in front of the fleet, drive burning at full power and blazing the way forward, fired next. The ship, the Diego Garcia, launched a spread of three Long Lance torpedoes at a damaged battlecruiser, which was, according to sensor data, attempting to restart her main reactor.

  In seconds, the torpedoes crossed thousands of kilometers of space, weaving their way through the wreckage and debris. The weapons’ internal artificial intelligences guided each torpedo precisely to the target, until the spread hammered into the battlecruiser, ripping the stricken ship apart.

  Now, most of his fleet was firing maser cannons, energy lances, missiles, and torpedoes, targeting enemy wrecks that still showed power readouts or even the smallest signs of life. They also fired upon the enemy’s escape pods, exacting a long pent-up and well-earned vengeance.

  “Captain Eddings,” Kane said, without looking over at his chief aide, who was ensconced in his battle pod. “Detail the carriers and the assault transports to launch recovery boats for friendly escape pods. Let’s see if we can render any assistance before we pass though this area.”

  “Aye, sir,” Eddings responded. “I am on it.”

  Kane’s gaze shifted to his fleet carriers. They would have their own role to play in the hours ahead, and a critical one at that. The carriers provided long-range strike capability. Their craft dominated the battlefield and had more than once swung victory his way.

  As he eyed them, interceptors began launching, a squadron from each, as well as electronic warfare craft. Having dropped into the system and found no organized resistance at the jump gate, the interceptors would provide a combat space patrol and picket around the carriers, while the massive ships prepped a true strike package that would range far out into the system.

  The scout fighters came next, launching one at a time. These, with exceptionally strong sensor suites, would speed out far ahead of the fleet and search for hidden threats.

  Kane called upon his cerebral implants to draw the display back, providing him a system-wide view. The planets, dozens of moons, and asteroid belts of the Sol System came into sight. A confusing mass of informational tags spread throughout the entire system. It was too much for the human mind to make sense of, and one of the reasons why they had the artificial intelligences.

  Twenty trillion souls called the Sol System home. Earth was the seat of the imperial capital, the beating heart of the empire, a place every citizen desired to travel to, to make a pilgrimage to, at least once in their lifetime.

  Information continually flowed into the display as data was analyzed in real time and properly catalogued. Tags were updated, and as he studied what he was seeing, the picture became all too clear, frighteningly so. He felt an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

  “Good god in heaven.” Kane’s breath caught in his throat. He stumbled back a step, horrified, his guts twisting. “I can’t believe they’ve gone and done it … just utter madness.”

  “Sir,” Captain Eddings said from his pod, a few meters away. Horror written plainly on his face, Eddings turned to look back at him. The horror matched what Kane felt. “The capital world has been slagged. Earth is gone—Mars, Phobos, Deimos, Luna, Mercury, too—as well as many of the asteroid and orbital habitats. We have long-range visual confirmation, speed of light, sir.”

  “We’ve arrived too late,” Kane breathed, then remembered his place. He was in command and had to project confidence and a sense of being in control. Otherwise, those around him might lose heart. If that happened, discipline would break down. “Continue gathering information.” He glanced back at the display. “Once we pass through the debris field, see that the fleet moves into a delta echelon screen pattern to protect the carriers. I want our battlespace extended to two hundred thousand kilometers, with interceptor squadrons and pickets out farther, as well as ECM ships.”

  “Yes, sir,” Eddings said and turned back to his duties.

  Kane was not the only one to arrive late. Where were the empire’s other fleets? The Ninety-Second was but one of many similar formations. Had the others been destroyed while he had been out on the Rim putting fires out? Had he just not been told? Had some not answered the call? There was so much he didn’t know and it was maddening.

  The horror before him was unimaginable. He had to remind himself once again to keep himself rigidly under control, at least outwardly. Billions, maybe even trillions, had already died. No m
atter what he did, more would surely follow in the coming days.

  What he was seeing in the holographic display tank was simply the end of the world, as every human being knew it. It was Armageddon, the Great Apocalypse, Ragnarök come to life, the biblical end of everything.

  The empire he had served his entire adult life, the empire that ruled over more than twenty thousand suns, the empire he loved with all his heart and being … was collapsing before his eyes—had collapsed. There was no recovering from this. How could there ever be?

  And the worst of it all was the knowledge that the empire had not fallen from an outside threat, a rival, an alien intelligence, but from within. Humans had done this to themselves. That was the tragedy of it all. A rebellion had caused this.

  Before the rebellion that had burned through the heart of the empire, humanity had lived in a veritable golden age, where hunger and disease had been ended. No one anywhere in the empire suffered from lack of food or medical treatment. War was a thing of the past, or at least everyone had thought so.

  How wrong had they been?

  Death had almost been conquered as well, with the average human lifespan reaching over two hundred and fifty years. Nearly every want, every need had been seen to. If a person did not desire to work, they had not been forced to do so. The government was well prepared to take care of them, so they could focus on improving themselves or working to better the human race. Or if they wanted to do nothing and simply laze about, that had not been a problem either. The empire had been, for lack of a better word, a utopia and the pinnacle of humanity’s advancement.

  But, in the end, that had not been enough. The masses—brainwashed and egged on by biased and short-sighted media, idealists, ideologues, reactionaries, and religious fanatics—had all wanted more. They had demanded it even, to the point of their own and everyone else’s destruction. Perhaps that was where the problem had begun? The empire had been too generous, had stopped pushing its own people to succeed. Maybe that had bred a terrible cynicism that had driven the need for change. Kane didn’t know. But it did not matter, not anymore. The writing was on the wall and it had been penned in blood.