Hymns of Betrayal
Prelude
Admiral Leight, the man in charge of the Knight Legion Epsilon fleet, sat patiently in his chair, waiting for the preparation phase to end. His stern posture, unwavering hands, and composed face revealed that he had been a great soldier once upon a time.
Leight’s stony gaze was set towards the largest window on the bridge of the flagship Overture. Thousands of one-man fighter ships were lined up on two sides of the space station, the Hymn of Pandora. On one side of the circular mass of super-technology was the fleet of the Knight Legion Epsilon faction and on the other side was the massive King’s Dragoons fleet. Although the Dragoons clearly amassed a greater armada, the Knights’ fleet had technology on their hands to even the odds.
The massive structure Hymn of Pandora activated its defense systems, lighting up the darkness of space. Hundreds of guns surfaced on the smooth, spherical exterior of the station. The ships began a slow advance, eventually breaking out into a scatter, as they approached the guns. Blue-white engine flares dotted the black background.
A battle erupted outside the Hymn of Pandora space station.
Engine flames trailed off from the exhausts of thousands of beaming fighter crafts. Explosions bloomed across the battle space. Debris rained toward the mass of super-technology in the center of the conflict, artificial gravity grabbing any free material. The smoke, dust, and debris laid view to a beautiful, yet tragic, scene.
The wildly firing turrets from the Pandora destroyed a huge portion of each army. The pilots saw as the ships of the very comrades they grew up with swallowed up in flames. But there was no time to mourn the dead, for they feared their own lives might soon face that same horrible fate.
Each pilot fought a battle with desperation. Teams of orbital spacecraft buzzed around the storm of frantic cross-fire. The power of the Hymn of Pandora’s artillery was so great that when a missile even missed a ship, the entire hull would shudder and shake from its tremendous power.
Although this was a battle between factions, the Pandora was their highest priority. The Admirals knew well that it would take the combined strength of both factions to disable the space station’s guns. They could not fight each other while Pandora was still firing. The buzzing fighters flew past ally and enemy to get a shot at one of the hundreds of guns mounted on the Pandora. There was a visible rain of explosions across the battlefield. Parts flew across space. Red lasers and black missiles bombarded the thick exterior of Pandora. The pilots took shots at their enemy’s ships whenever they saw an opening, which was very rare due to the risk of hitting an ally. The station's laser turrets took out about a hundred ships in under half an hour. The pilots seemed to be having a difficult time gunning down their stationary targets. Their aiming wasn’t the problem, but getting close enough to fire was. With so many guns, it seemed the chances of getting close enough to lock on to the targets were small. Instead, they fired with simple, manual aiming, which often times ended up hitting the wrong target, or not hitting a target at all.
Admiral Leight’s gaze finally turned from the window. He rose from his chair and walked toward the crew piloting the flagship while still maintaining his stern posture. He believed that a soldier’s posture can tell everything about him.
His posture also served another purpose. It reminded him of his older days as a mere foot soldier in the infantry. Those were the best years of his life, he believed. Leight hated being stuffed into a spaceship. It seemed to him that there was very little he could do, and that made him uncomfortable. His destiny was in the hands of other soldiers, less reliable than himself, while all he could do was sit there and watch. He felt useless, which was something he could not tolerate. The one thing in his life that he could never figure out was why he ever chose to leave the infantry.
"Open up the Captain Line."
"Yes, Admiral Leight," a man behind him said.
The bridge was filled with busy crew members who recorded and
maintained the battle behind holographic projector screens. A young
boy heard the order and opened the Captain Line.
"Execute plan Perfidy," Leight said over the Captain Line to every
captain under Knight Legion Epsilon command. "Password: 10984. I repeat, execute plan Perfidy -- 10984." For the first time in almost a month, a slight indication of what could be taken as a smile appeared on Leight’s face. He realized that as an Admiral, he wasn’t useless. Instead, his decision would be the most influential factor in the outcome of this battle, which in turn, would result in the rise or fall of the Knights itself.
The captains of the Knight Legion fleet gave their ships new orders. They were to retreat, reform, and attack their new target, the Dragoons’ fighter ships. The sudden shift caught the Dragoons by surprise, making them an easy target. Before they received an order to retaliate, all they could do was try and survive. Their numbers began to drop. When their Admiral finally gave the order to counter, their army was fatally crippled. Their numbers began to drop faster with each minute. They had no choice but to retreat with what few remaining pilots they had left.
“Block all transmissions from the Dragoons," Leight ordered.
"At once, Admiral."
Shamefully defeated, the few remaining Dragoons- about a hundred of the once proud faction- abandoned their claim on the Hymn of Pandora. Mission failed.
Reaper, the mothership of the King’s Dragoons faction watched in displeasure as their armada retreated from the battlefield.
"It seems plan Perfidy was a success. Wing the Overture alongside the Hymn of Pandora."
"As you say, Admiral." The pilot carefully flew the mothership around the battlefield. The gunners on the bridge shot down any remaining turrets they could find on the way. Pandora's defense was crumbling.
"Congratulations, Admiral. It‘s fortunate that your recent promotion was met with an atmosphere of success," said Lozz, his advisor. His words brought a smile once again to Leight's soldier face.
"Once our armies take care of the pathetic defense system, the prize is
ours to collect. The beautiful Hymn of Pandora will be ours this night." This time, it was Lozz's turn to smile. His smile was not a smile, but a grin that took up almost his entire face.
The space station was self-operational. No personnel were required.
That was one of the reasons why this brilliantly designed station was so greedily hunted. It had remained hidden from the insatiable eyes of the factions. At least until a Knight Legion scout had discovered it while running from a Dragoon fighter, who had also seen it. Both ships flew back to inform their faction leaders. The two factions had immediately assembled troops to take the structure.
Deep within the chaos of the Pandora station, a lone human stood. He walked over to the window. It seemed that the takeover was imminent.
He couldn't have that. He wouldn’t have that.
"Doctor Musafir, we have lost," he said over the comm-system.
"Don't let them open Pandora, Resaid," said the tired old voice on the other end.
"On your leave, Doctor." Resaid walked over to the control panel where he said a few words. Responding to his voice, a new panel rose from the ground. He removed a small chip that was inserted in the panel. After he pressed a few buttons, red symbols covered the interior of the station.
"Admiral, the Pandora structure has been cleared of threats. The Hymn of Pandora is ours."
As he finished his last word, the fissures on the surface of the station filled with a glowing red color. Red lines raced across the maze-like surface. Where the leading red lines reached a circular dead-end, a large explosion immediately followed in that location. Starting from the top, a series of eruptions rode downward.
How could this have happened? wondered the Admiral. This was not due to their constant bombardment. It was supposed to be tougher than that. Someone had detonated it from the inside, but who could have gotten inside?
An escape pod spewed out from the bottom of the spherical construction just before the space station split. The wonder that had been the Hymn of Pandora was destroyed. Both factions returned home that day, defeated.
Within the pod was Resaid, who had destroyed both faction’s dreams along with the space station.
"Is it done, Resaid?"
He closed his eyes, switched on his comm-system, and sighed. "It's
gone. All of your hard work."
"But you have the chip, right?"
"Yes, I have the chip. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s very dangerous now. The enemy‘s influence is growing."
"I know, but--"
"I didn't hear your last words. Your signal must be weak. Where are
you?" Resaid revealed a small bit of worry for the old doctor in his usually stern voice. He was filled with a flurry of emotions when he heard some sounds in the background that he couldn’t make out. The sounds were followed by a terrible scream, a scream from a horribly familiar person. Doctor Musafir, the father of all super-technology and the creator of the Hymn of Pandora station, was murdered.
