Other patrons scrambled through the aftershocks for the disembarking platform. The walls now seemed to move in either direction, the structure had begun to sway. Aaron motioned for her to follow him. He scurried on hands and knees to the reception area and peered out the observation glass, another equally tall structure was nearby and this one seemed headed directly for it. Both were wide, and he was sure if it tipped and the structure snapped in the right place, it would contact the other one.
With the swaying motion of the building, no one was able to enter the air-cars. The cars were either too far or being struck by the building on approach. There were precious few seconds left. He knew the building was about to slam into the other.
He unclasped the buckle on his duty belt and began adjusting it to the widest length.
“What are you doing?” Rachael asked.
“Quiet, no time,” he said, adjusting the belt. “The building is going to hit and the other one is a bit shorter, we will fall a long way, do you trust me?”
“I trust you,” Rachael said.
“Good.”
He hustled her over to a reinforced pillar inside the lounge. Most of the patrons had left the immediate area. Some had even started down the building manually, using the emergency stairwell. Something he guessed no one had ever used. The poor souls would never make it.
He wrapped the belt around the pillar, positioned her back against it, turned his back to her and clasped the buckle. He then twisted around to face her.
“When we hit that other building,” he said. “We’ll be splatted against the far end of this one, and if we stay on the far end, the impact from the other building will penetrate and kill us just the same. You have to hold me tight with your legs around mine and your arms around my back and pull me into you. I’ll bury my head in your neck. If you don’t hold me well enough, the belt keeping us tethered to the pillar will snap my back on impact. I’ve got nothing to brace my lower and upper body.”
She nodded her understanding.
“I don’t think we’ve got back replacements, so I’d prefer to keep mine, plus I’m not sure you survive a snapped spinal cord.”
The rattling in his ears increased, followed by a grating metallic sound, forcing him to wince. The final supports within the building must have buckled, in a few seconds they would impact.
“Aaron?”
“Rachael?”
“If we don’t survive, I thought you should know that . . .”
“You really do always stop at the good parts don’t you?”
She forced a smile. “That I felt the—”
The last thing he heard was another loud bang, and then nothing.
Chapter 19 – Fates of Many
Imperial Warship—Phalanx
X-1501-D Emission Nebula
Near Border Worlds
A bored sensor technician yawned at his console. The sudden unexpected beep caused him to jump as though his superior had suddenly sneaked up on him.
“Lord Commander,” the tech called. “Sir, monitoring several large explosions on Atlas Prime.”
Sub-Commander Arias Decimus called across the command center. “Confirmed, sir,” he said. “Also registering an explosion in orbit. That orbital track would indicate it was one of Atlas Prime’s military shipyards.”
Quintus squinted at the readings.
“Source?”
“Unknown, my Lord. Analyzing residual effects and radiation now. The power levels would seem to indicate it was no accident. More than likely a weaponized device.”
“You’re saying someone either bombed, or shot at the shipyard?”
“Yes, Lord Commander. Bombed with some type of powerful explosive is the more likely conclusion.”
“What more do you need to be certain?” Quintus asked.
“When the effects clear further, then we can be one hundred percent certain. However, I take full responsibility—that is my assessment at this time.”
Decimus would go far in the Navy if he didn’t offend the wrong people—he had strong conviction and was unrivalled throughout the Empire in his position. Perhaps this is why Quintus chose him to be second-in-command aboard Phalanx. He’d engineered several schemes to test his Sub-Commander’s loyalty and he hadn’t failed once. But Quintus too had to be careful. Since the Lord Praetor commandeered his ship, he found his patience and discipline tested by the detestable politician—culminating in the destruction of the transport ship laden with civilians. The high-speed courier he dispatched to Hosque querying the actions of the Lord Praetor hadn’t sent back any communication. Quintus didn’t care if it ended his career, he would personally inform the Emperor of what had transpired on their return to Imperial space.
If he ever returned.
The Emperor himself sanctioned the Lord Praetor’s mission—likely due to fabricated reports—and Quintus was in no position to challenge that authority. Platus felt certain it was an invasion fleet, but Quintus held onto hope it was simple posturing by a politician playing dangerous games with the future of the Empire. He hoped the fleet dispatched by the USSF was merely in response to Empire posturing.
“Sir, should we inform the Lord Praetor?”
He didn’t think he had a choice. If he didn’t he would invite unnecessary scrutiny upon himself. Bannon was bound to hear of the incident soon.
“Yes inform him. What’s the location of our fleet?”
Decimus didn’t even check his console.
“70 warships, one light day away from our current position. The USSF will arrive several hours after. Initial intelligence and scans suggest about 40 warships inbound. However, with such a fleet traveling close at high warp, it is difficult from this range to differentiate gravity waves.”
Quintus nodded. Decimus was reminding him the USS Fleet was responding with either forty ships at the least or possibly many more. That was the nature of detection at these extreme light-year ranges.
“Thank you. Engineering, have you isolated the source of the deuterium leak?”
“Yes, Commander, a discharge from an electric storm struck one of the escorting destroyers. The leak cannot be fixed without EVA work.”
“Very well. Decimus, your opinion?”
“Sir, the leak cannot be detected from outside of our current position, another ship would have to be in close proximity.”
“Excellent, continue monitoring Atlas Prime. Notify me of any changes,” Quintus said.
Quintus left the bridge and entered his office. He fell into the chair behind his desk. Swiping a few controls, he played a message which recently arrived from Platus. Due to the light lag, whatever it contained was an hour old.
Platus’ face filled the frame. It was shaking and the background noise drowned out his voice. “Brother, as I’m sure you’re aware what has happened down here,” Platus said. “I have decided to make contact with the United Fleet operatives and show them what we’ve learned.”
Quintus agreed. The time for skulking in the background had passed.
The recording continued. “We shouldn’t have any issues once we get the troublesome one. Hopefully, he doesn’t kill my team before that happens. Judging from Rigel, he’s quite a handful. I’m tracking the male and female, in fact, I’m with them in a tumbling atmosphere structure. Facial recognition came up with nothing on the female, however, the male is Aaron Rayne, former Commander, USSF. Looks like they are about to do something crazy Quintus, not unlike that stunt you pulled back on Hosque—”