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

  What unfolded before his eyes now was a horror on a scale truly unimaginable, inconceivable. Kane was a man hardened by war. And even he was having trouble processing it. In the outlying systems, leading up to the Core, Kane had thought he had seen it all. But no one had ever seen anything like this. The barbarians had overcome the city gates and were sacking the capital system, wrecking everything.

  For the first time in his adult life, Kane was unsure exactly what to do. This was a problem, he realized, that could not be fixed, mended, or worked to a successful conclusion.

  He stared in utter disbelief at the display as more complete information continued to populate the tank and informational tags updated. Numbly, almost mechanically, using his implants, he cycled through a few of them, studying the more prominent clusters of habitation, the settlements, mega-cities, and arcologies spread throughout the system. All had been hammered or bombarded. Orbital habitat after habitat had been destroyed, wrecked, or shattered.

  The planet of Venus, which long ago had been terraformed, had been cracked in two. The intellect assigned to study it felt with eighty-seven percent confidence that a high-yield kinetic weapon had been employed. Eighty million people had lived there. There had been no military presence on the planet. The intellect expected loss of life to be total, with no survivors. The list of devastation, the reports detailing horror after horror, went on and on.

  “Admiral,” his artificial intelligence said, “the command-and-control network is down throughout the solar system. The sensor network is non-functional as well. There is nothing from the High Command. Automated emergency disaster broadcasts are the only thing we are picking up. That and distress calls, which are being logged and sorted by priority. So far, we have identified one million three hundred thirty-two thousand and one such calls for assistance. A good portion of those distress signals are automated calls.”

  Kane switched his gaze back to Earth. He could well understand why the High Command was not broadcasting or answering the ship’s hails. Earth was gone, wrecked, and the High Command had been stationed there.

  The home world had been a model for all that could be done and accomplished. But all of that was now gone, destroyed in the fires of a revolution. Earth had been bombarded from orbit and was now a radioactive mess. Not only had kinetic weapons been used, but the rebels had employed compression and advanced fusion devices as well, as if to wipe away the stain of the empire, to burn it from existence.

  What remained of the atmosphere was likely not only radioactive but thoroughly toxic to life as well. The surface would be completely uninhabitable. Those unfortunates trapped in the underground and sub-ocean cities would likely die from starvation or lack of clean air or slowly be poisoned by radiation and other contaminants. If they had not begun already, they would soon be fighting amongst themselves for the precious few resources left.

  A ping sounded in his ear, drawing his attention, and a message flashed into his retina implants. Captain Heidieki Marku, his flagship’s commanding officer, was calling. Kane ignored the call. He was not ready to speak to the man.

  “Have you detected the enemy fleet yet?” Kane asked his personal intellect.

  “We have, Admiral,” the intellect reported. “They are on the far side of the sun, currently engaged with what is left of the Home Fleet. From our analysis, it is an unequal fight. I am afraid it is my sad duty to report the Home Fleet will soon cease to exist as a coherent entity, likely within the next few minutes. Even at full power, we cannot arrive in time to save them.”

  “Can we warp jump to them?” Kane asked hopefully, thinking on the emergency maneuver. It was a dangerous proposition under the best of circumstances, but his brothers and sisters were fighting and dying a few light minutes away. The least he could do was try to figure out a way to help them.

  “No,” the intellect said in a tone devoid of any compassion.

  In that moment, Kane hated the thinking machine. It had moved beyond simple dislike. Though the artificial intelligences were a necessity, that did not mean he had to enjoy working with them.

  “Due to compression warhead use in our vicinity,” the AI continued, oblivious to his thoughts, “there is too much distortion to the fabric of our space-time layer. Were we even to attempt such a jump, there is the very real chance the majority of the fleet would be destroyed, a confidence of eighty-nine percent. At the very least, the few ships that did emerge near the current battle site would be severely damaged and practically useless to the Home Fleet.”

  Kane blew out an unhappy breath. “Show me the Home Fleet and the enemy. I want to see them.”

  The holographic tank shifted, moved smoothly across the system, and then drilled down. It focused on the survivors of the Home Fleet, several dreadnaughts, a few battleships and light support vessels, fighting a running action against a superior fleet numbering in the hundreds. There were a handful of interceptors and fighters engaged with the enemy’s small craft in a wheeling and wild melee as the big ships blasted at each other with everything they had.

  As he watched, two large rebel vessels, their shields overcome by combined energy fire from multiple imperial ships, flashed from existence. Their informational tags changed from operational threats to destroyed and then, in rapid succession, navigational hazards.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he studied the display for several seconds, thinking through his options, before concluding there were none. It was as the AI had said. Kane could not save the remnants of the Home Fleet.

  That burned at him. Fresh data flooded the display, updating him on the strength the enemy fleet, as the AIs analyzed the capabilities of each enemy ship and established data uplinks with the Home Fleet, giving them an almost real-time picture of the fighting.

  That the rebels could amass such strength was nearly unimaginable to him. Ten years ago, he would have said it was impossible. But that was then, and this was now. It had clearly been a lack of foresight, a failure in the extreme. The empire had seemed invulnerable, indestructible, permanent.

  The rebels claimed they fought imperial oppression and corruption, to make a better world. They had promised the masses everything from more free handouts, to a fairer system, equity, with equal representation for all, a return to full democracy and freedom. They had promised to end the current system of government, what they considered tyrannical in the extreme. They had pledged to bring down the emperor and the artificial intelligences which kept things functioning. All this despite the people already having democracy and freedom unparalleled in humanity’s history.

  The emperor was a constitutional monarch, the head of state, yes, but he was only one branch of the government. He had limited veto power over the duly elected senate and house. It was the people who had the real power to make change. They always had. They could have easily made the system change, by standing up and voting the corrupt career politicians out. But they never had, and it had led them all to the brink, the edge of the cliff from which humanity would now certainly fall.

  He thought back to how this had even become possible. It had all started with civil disobedience, and then transitioned to riots in the streets and stations throughout the empire. Terrorist attacks had come next, followed by intimidation of law-abiding citizens, the stifling and suppression of free speech, before taking hold and becoming a true rebellion, bent at brutally overthrowing the empire.

  Though few realized it, what the rebellion was delivering was anarchy. Some had even welcomed the fall of order. Over the last five years, he had already seen it happen on more than a hundred worlds. And despite the mounting evidence of what the rebellion was sowing, people disaffected with their lives and the system had willingly flocked to the enemy’s banner and thrown not only their support but their financial backing behind the rebels. In a matter of a few short years, the rebellion had grown and torn the empire apart in civil war, pulling away the tenuous threads of civilization. It had become the greatest catastrophe in human history.

 
And now, with the sack and fall of the capital system, it was all over. A golden age for humanity was ending. Kane knew it in his bones, understood it for what it represented. The rebels would never be able to deliver on their promises, not now, not after the infrastructure of the empire had been, for the most part, destroyed and thoroughly ruined. It was all over. This was the end of everything.

  “And now begins the dark times,” Kane said to himself. “We are passing into an age of shadow, a dimming of the light of humanity.”

  “Do you think that possible?” his intellect asked him. “Do you really believe humanity is on the edge of a cliff, staring over the precipice?”

  “You don’t?” Kane asked, surprised. He figured with all the data available to the super intelligence, it would have figured that one out on its own. He had to remind himself such constructed intellects did not think and reason like human beings. Sometimes what was obvious to a human was not to them. “The institutions of the empire have collapsed.”

  “Surely new institutions will rise to take their place,” the artificial intelligence said. “It will take time.”

  “One day,” Kane said, “institutions will indeed rise up, as will a new order of some kind. Until then, there will be chaos, death, and destruction across much of what was once called the empire. People will fight for the remnants of technology, the resources and scraps that remain. Yes, pockets of humanity will survive untouched, but overall, I am convinced an age of darkness is upon us.” He felt thoroughly sick to his stomach. “Do you see it differently?”

  The artificial intelligence was quiet for several moments, thinking things through, crunching billions of equations, analyzing historical records, studying the available data much faster than he ever could.

  Finally, it spoke.

  “I do not. I have searched throughout your history and found several examples where civilizations have collapsed or retracted. In almost all instances, technology, medical care, general knowledge, and what you call civilization backslides. The Dark Ages are a perfect example.”

  “Then we are in agreement,” Kane said.

  “But in every case,” the intellect said, “eventually something new rises to take its place.”

  Kane felt his heart breaking at all that was coming. Before him was a tragedy on a scale unprecedented in human history. The world was ending, and he was a witness. He had a front row seat, and what he saw horrified him.

  The rebels had thrown all that they had against the home system. That much was clear. From the information still flowing into the display tank, cataloging enemy wrecks, it had cost them too. And yet their fleet, even after they finished off the Home Fleet, would be more than a match for his command, at least judging from its size. That was, unless he could find some way to even the odds, perhaps cheat a little. He was good at that, out-strategizing his enemy. If Kane could not save the heart of the empire, perhaps he could give a little payback in return.

  “Admiral,” the ship’s AI said, interrupting his thoughts. “I am receiving a priority one interdimensional comm signal. It is coming directly from the emperor and it is addressed to you, personally, sir. Should I open the link?”

  “By all means,” Kane said as he straightened himself up. “Connect me with the emperor.”

  Chapter Two

  Location: Sol System

  Date: 2432, Imperial Standard

  A hologram of the emperor shimmered into existence before Kane. The emperor was tall and fair-looking. His hair was worn short. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, with a broad red ribbon draped across his chest. A large starburst, with a blue crystal as the centerpiece—the symbol of the imperial family and empire—was pinned to the ribbon. He was middle-aged. Dignified in bearing, the emperor was composed. At the same time, he appeared tired and worn. Kane could see it in the man’s eyes, read it in the lines on his face. He knew the last few days and hours must have been incredibly difficult, almost impossibly so, as the rebels fought their way into the system and began destroying humanity’s cradle. Months prior, they had murdered the emperor’s wife and children in a suicide attack.

  Kane could well sympathize, for most of his own family had seen a similar fate just three years ago. And yet, it seemed like an eternity had passed since then. His heart hardened at the thought of his murdered wife and all but one of his children. He burned with hatred for the enemy, the Disunity.

  The admiral’s implants told him the emperor was not using a filter to mask his true image. Kane was being allowed to see the man as he was, just another human being, one amongst many. And yet, he understood the emperor was more than that. He was the Keeper of the Unknowable, the Guardian of the Gates and had, over the years, in a way, become something more than human. Though what that was, no one knew.

  “Admiral Kane.” The emperor’s tone was calm and level. “I would welcome you home … but under the circumstances that seems inappropriate.”

  “We’re here, your majesty,” Kane said. From the information tag via his implants, the emperor was transmitting from one of the dreadnaughts currently engaged with the enemy on the far side of the sun. “I regret we could not have arrived sooner.”

  “You were given a mission,” the emperor said. “Tell me, Admiral, did you accomplish it?”

  “We did, your majesty,” Kane said.

  A relieved look came over the emperor. He appeared as if about to say something, then glanced away briefly. Someone had drawn his attention.

  “That is good,” the emperor said. “Your service pleases me greatly, more than you can possibly know. And what of the other matter?”

  “I have no word yet of that mission,” Kane said. “I dispatched my son, along with my best.”

  “Very good,” the emperor said.

  “How can we assist you?” Kane asked, wondering how the emperor could be pleased after all that had happened in Sol.

  A force-driven privacy filter fell around the hologram and Kane. Instantly all other sounds on the bridge cut off. Even the ever-present sound of hissing air ceased.

  “I have disabled your constructed intellect for the remainder of our conversation,” the emperor said. “Some of the information I am about to provide is for your ears only.” The emperor paused, as if gathering his thoughts. He looked away again, seemingly distracted by something Kane could not see, before turning back. “Admiral, I am told we only have minutes left, so I will keep this brief. As I am sure you are aware, we have lost here. There will be no saving Sol.” The emperor took a breath. “You should find no shame in following the orders I am about to give. In fact, it is your duty to obey, and I expect you to do so. Do you understand me?”

  “Command me, Emperor,” Kane said, wondering what was coming.

  “You are to jump out of the system and take your fleet to Heaven’s Gate. There is no sense in sacrificing the thousands of people under your command, along with the sentient constructs and countless AIs that help you operate your fleet.”

  Kane at first did not quite believe he had heard correctly. The emperor was sending him and his fleet away? The fight was here, in the Sol System. Then what had been said registered.

  “Heaven’s Gate?” Kane asked. “I thought that was only a rumor.”

  “I assure you, Admiral, Heaven’s Gate is very real,” the emperor said. “You will find a full shipyard there, supply depots, assets, an automated asteroid mining station for resources, amongst other things that will help keep your fleet in operational order. A file has been sent to your personal terminal, updating your orders. It is keyed to your biometrics and DNA. Only you can open and read it. Any construct, or artificial intelligence, no matter how advanced, attempting to decode the file will go insane and self-terminate.”

  “I understand,” Kane said, wondering what exactly was in the file. What could drive a fully cognizant AI insane and then force it to kill itself?

  “Good,” the emperor said, “the file includes additional information and instructions. Read it only when you get to
Heaven’s Gate and not before. Command codes in every ship of your fleet have just been updated. Any vessel with a jump drive attempting to leave Heaven’s Gate without your direct orders will become disabled. You may wish to let your captains know before they attempt such a move.”

  “So,” Kane said, thinking it through, “once we’re there, you really do not want us to leave.”

  “Not until it is time,” the emperor said and fell silent for a couple of heartbeats. “I have consulted the Infinity Controller and we are in what you might call a rare agreement. After your fleet jumps, every jump gate and nearly all of the nonnatural wormholes throughout the empire will go into lockdown mode. Starships will be unable to jump regionally. In short, the transport network is being, for lack of a better word, shut down and sealed, limited in its capability.”

  “Lockdown?” Kane was shocked. “How is such a thing possible?”

  “After today, the jump gates will only provide point-to-point transit. If I could, I would have disabled that as well. However, the Infinity Controller was firm, adamant. The jump gates will remain semi-functional. Sol’s gate, however, will be completely deactivated and removed from the network. There will be no possible way for anyone to leave this system or travel here without a generational ship.”

  “I see.”

  “Go to Heaven’s Gate and follow the instructions I have left, guard that which must be protected at all costs. What that is, you will learn soon enough. Should you fail, Heaven’s Gate might just become humanity’s last gasp, eventually seeing our light in this galaxy forever extinguished. Do you acknowledge your orders, Admiral? They … are the last I will give.”

  Kane found himself hesitant in replying. His mind was spinning. “I do, your majesty, and I will not fail.”

  “You were always among the best and most loyal of my servants.” The emperor seemed satisfied, for he gave a curt nod. “Your journey will be a long one, the longest you will ever take in hyperspace. It is a galaxy-spanning jump and will take you at least a month to complete.”