Empire Rising

By Steven Lake

Once thought destroyed, a dangerous enemy has returned, bringing with them weapons of immeasurable power to finish the job they originally failed to complete. Attacking from the shadows, they threaten to destroy and conquer the galaxy one race at a time and bring the new Galactic Alliance to its knees. To stop this threat, the Alliance, the Society and the nine races must work together to find this enemy and destroy them before they can achieve their goal of galactic conquest.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steven Lake
• Release date: Jun 8, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476106328

Steven Lake

Steven Lake is a prolific author of many, many books, stories, articles, and other literature spanning a period of over twenty years. He began his long writing career in 1992 while serving in the US Army and has worked continuously to improve his craft to the great art it is today.

Book preview

Empire Rising

Earthfleet Saga Book 4

By Steven Lake

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 Steven Lake

Dedication

I want to dedicate this book first to God for his boundless grace in blessing me with the ability to write, and the imagination by which to create all the great worlds, characters, events and stories that I have had the privilege to write about. I also want to thank my friends and family, and everyone else who has helped me edit my book, provided feedback, or gave me ideas for my stories. Thanks for all the great help all of you provided!

Author's Note

This novel is book 4 of the Earthfleet saga. To learn more about this series, or other novels and short stories I've written, go to: http://www.realmsofimagination.net

Prologue

An Angalorian commander stood on the command deck of his small defensive outpost and studied the stars beyond.

How much longer until our tour is over, sir? whined one of his subordinates.

The commander twitched his wolf like ears and growled slightly as he gave the junior officer a piercing glance. The subordinate folded his ears back and cringed slightly.

Why do they always send me these whiny, sniveling, whelps, instead of the true patriots of war? thought the commander.

Just then his ears perked up and began shifting from side to side as he caught the faint sound of a console beeping. He hoped this would signal the start of something exciting. They could use a change of pace. Duty on this defensive station was boring at best, and mind numbingly uneventful at worst. Even though his superiors preferred things that way, he felt more at home in places where there was action every moment of every day. If nothing else, it kept him from having to suffer the torture of abject boredom, or the constant whining of his subordinates because they too were bored.

Commander, sensors are picking up a collection of unusual anomalies in the nearby inner solar region, said one of the crewmen.

The commander growled angrily as his ears folded down on his head in frustration. His hopes had been lifted briefly, only to be dashed to pieces moments later. Inner solar anomalies were common in this region. In fact, they were so common that he was curious why the crewman had even bothered to mention anything at all.

What kind of anomaly is it? he asked with dreaded anticipation of a potential mediocrity.

Unknown, sir. The readings have an inter-dimensional signature to them.

The commander's ears perked up with interest as his eyes locked onto the crewman.

Elaborate, he said.

I can't, sir. I don't know how to explain this.

The commander quickly stepped over to the crewman's station and studied his sensor display intently.

Show me, he said.

The crewman pointed at his screen, and said, The anomalies are forming in this small area here. There's around a hundred or so of them in total.

The commander's long, bushy tail flitted briefly with excitement.

Can you get a clearer picture? he asked.

The crewman was just about to answer this when the console began flashing a long list of notices. This caught the attention of the other crewmen, who began popping up from their chairs like prairie dogs in an effort to see what was happening.

What is that!? came a cry from across the room.

Everyone turned to see who had said it, only to notice one crewman who was pointing out a nearby window. The commander turned to look in the direction the crewman was pointing, and noticed a field of around one hundred glowing blue disks just half a mile away. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Wait a second. Something's not right, he said, more to himself than anyone else.

Suddenly, a large group of unmarked starships emerged from the disks and opened fire on the station. The commander's eyes went wide in horror.

SHIELDS! he cried.

But it was too late. A barrage of torpedoes impacted the station moments later, shattering it like dust. The ships then stopped not far from the disks and waited for the rest of their compatriots to join them. When all were assembled, they turned and headed for the planet. When they returned a mere twenty minutes later, all that remained of the once heavily populated Angalorian colony was smoldering, shattered rubble, and blackened, scorched earth. The unmarked ships soon slipped back through the disks and were gone.

Moments after the last ship had vanished, the disks themselves faded away to nothing. When an Angalorian task force arrived two weeks later to investigate why the colony had not reported in recently, they found that it had been obliterated. Of the two million colonists that had once populated the planet, none remained alive. The only clue the task force found that pointed to the identity of the attackers was a small silver canister, inside of which was a ragged cloth scroll. On it were two simple sentences in galactic standard script. They read, Blood for blood. Ashes for ashes.

Chapter 1

Dutch studied the table in front of him and frowned slightly. Pendleton had been right. Commander Sydney was definitely one of the best card sharks in the fleet. Sydney sat in his chair and grinned proudly. Dutch studied him briefly, before looking down at the royal flush that lay on the table in front of him. Dutch grinned slightly at this, and then put his own hand on the table. Everyone in the room gasped in surprise.

Two royal flushes!? In the same hand!? cried Toby.

Pendleton smirked.

Wow, that has to be a first. Normally Commander Sydney wipes the floor with anyone who plays against him, and yet you've beaten him two hands out of four and tied him on the fifth, he said.

Well, they've both beaten me five for five tonight, said Mike as he tossed his cards onto the table.

Does that mean I'll be court-martialed for being a better poker player than you, sir? chided Dutch.

Sydney's eyebrow went up slightly.

If the Admiral court-martialed someone every time they beat him at a hand of poker, I'd be sitting forty to life by now, he quipped.

The others chuckled lightly.

Entertaining yourselves? asked Nordham as he strolled into the room.

Evening, Chancellor, said Toby as he bowed slightly.

Nordham bowed in return. Mike grabbed the cards off the table and began to shuffle them.

We're just playing a few hands of poker before we knock off for the night. You're welcome to join us if you'd like, he said.

Nordham nodded reservedly. Mike picked up on this and cocked his head slightly.

Is something the matter, sir? he asked.

Nordham shook his head.

Not really. I just have a lot on my mind. The new Alliance is still trying to get its feet under it and, according to Phyland, and Ambassador Finch, it's a mess out there. Not a day goes by without some kind of brawl breaking out on the senate floor, or somewhere else in the Senatorial Towers.

Mike chuckled.

Sounds like normal politics to me.

Meh. That's all politicians ever do. Just constantly fight, fight, fight. I wish they'd work out their problems peacefully for a change, muttered Pendleton.

Yeah, tell me about it. What we need to do is teach them how to get along and solve their problems like adults, said Dutch.

And how do you propose we do that, commander? asked Mike.

We could teach them poker, and then let them try their luck against the commander, chided Dutch.

We want to engender good relations among the races, not bankrupt them, replied Pendleton flatly.

Everyone laughed, except Nordham who merely grinned slightly.

Yes, well, I've been considering a trip out there to offer my support for the new Alliance. I've also considered ways in which to encourage the delegates to work together like they should, said Nordham.

No offense, sir, but that'd be like throwing your pearls before swine, if you get my meaning, said Dutch.

You don't think a visit would be of any value? asked Nordham.

No, sir. We're just one tiny fish in a great big sea. I doubt there's a lot we could do to sway anyone in the Alliance, given our rather insignificant size.

Mike grinned.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that, Commander. We've already caused quite a stir in the galaxy in just the past decade, not to mention all the nonsense that's happened over the last two centuries. Sometimes it only takes a mouse to get a mountain moving.

And a cat to eat him when he's done, retorted Pendleton.

Mike smirked at him, as he gave Pendleton a piercing glance, but said nothing. Pendleton merely cocked an eyebrow at this, but said nothing.

If you would like, sir, we can have the Appalachia packed and ready for departure by tomorrow if you really want to go, said Toby.

Nordham waved his hand dismissively.

No thanks. I haven't committed to anything just yet. Right now, it's merely a thought in the back of my mind. Personally, I'd rather leave this mess to Phyland and Finch to sort out. They seem to thrive on this kind of insanity. Especially Phyland.

Insanity? I thought politics was like that all the time, quipped Sydney.

Nordham smiled slightly.

In many ways, it is.

Phyland looked out across the floor of the Alliance senate and shook his head.

I don't know whether to scream in frustration, or grab a bat and start bashing in a few skulls. These guys are utterly impossible! Even though most of them are new, they don't act any better than the old delegates they replaced, he said in frustration.

Finch cocked his head to one side as he studied several melees between delegates that were underway nearby on the senate floor, and in the surrounding seating tiers.

Politics is like a phage that corrupts the feathers of many wings, rendering earthbound that which wishes to fly, he said.

Phyland grunted.

I know what you mean. It just amazes me that the galaxy hasn't devolved into genocidal war by now, what with the way these delegates carry on.

Pride is the bane of any flock. Yet it is also the oil that coats many feathers.

Yeah, too many feathers. It almost makes you want to invest in a galactic sized bottle of oil remover, grumbled Phyland.

Finch looked briefly around the room, and then noticed a group of delegates who sat quietly nearby and studied the conflagration with a myriad of expressions ranging from perturbed to utterly bored.

Such a chemical is unnecessary, for there are feathers among us who have not been soiled, nor stained, he said, pointing a wing at the delegates.

Phyland soon turned and studied the group Finch had pointed at. Among them were representatives from all nine of the Ancient Races, as well as a few of the other major races, each sitting quietly and wagging their heads at the immaturity of the other delegates. Especially those from the lesser races. Just then, a walrus like Bondian leapt over a row of desks behind Phyland in an attempt to tackle him. Phyland instinctively sensed this and stepped gracefully to the side, avoiding the surprise attack from behind. Consequently the Bondian missed his target and crashed onto the desk below. Phyland glared at him briefly as the Bondian groaned in pain, and then grabbed his leg, and tossed him over the edge and to the row below. Several cat like Imgadi appeared a moment later and began pouncing on him like a gigantic cat toy. Phyland sighed and motioned to Finch.

Let's go talk to those guys over there. Maybe we can get something useful done today if we do.

Finch nodded.

Gallow we will with those of equal patience, he replied.

Phyland grunted.

I doubt you could call it patience. It's more like shared annoyance.

Finch chirped as though laughing. The two of them then strolled quickly through the conflagration, seemingly oblivious to the insanity around them, and made their way over to the delegates of the Nine Races who were abstaining from the fighting. When they arrived, Phyland bowed respectfully to them.

Good afternoon, Ambassadors. Enjoying today's entertainment? he quipped.

A Yandian delegate grunted as his ears and tail twitched in disgust.

Wisdom is not a trait well held by these gicall, he grumbled.

Phyland grinned.

No, it is not, he replied.

And what do you want, Gin? growled Gray Fang, the Angalorian ambassador.

Phyland studied the Angalorian with interest. His eyes then wandered over to Gray Fang's heavy, armor like leather tunic, and bulging, furry muscles. Gray Fang glared at Phyland, his wolf like ears folding down on his head as he did. Phyland smiled slightly.

I'm simply here in hopes of redeeming the day, and somehow conducting, hopefully, a little bit of business amidst this madness, he said.

Gray Fang twitched his ears curiously.

I am puzzled why you stand here before us, instead of joining with the other gicall in their melee of madness, he said, with a hint of annoyance.

Phyland grunted as he frowned slightly.

I have a little more dignity than that. Besides, I'm not a child bent on throwing their weight around like they own the place, he said with a hint of disdain.

I am surprised that you would not welcome every opportunity to fight, given how often you have been in battle these past few years.

We've only fought because we were forced to. If we'd had our way, we'd have been happy living the rest of our lives in peace, never having fired a single shot in anger. Of course, if the Crassians hadn't caused all of this nonsense, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.

Gray Fang growled slightly, and then looked away.

May a thousand plagues rot the flesh from their bones, and may the dead of Ahvanyar torture their souls for all eternity, he grunted angrily.

Such ill will is hardly becoming of a noble race so honorable as yours, said Finch.

Gray Fang turned and eyed the Fondo ambassador.

It's the least they deserve for what they have done to our galaxy. Our ancestors struggled for many millennia to gain the peace we once enjoyed. And now, one power hungry gicall race has brought that all to ruin in a mere paw's breadth of seasons.

Finch tilted his head slightly.

I do not feel that it was they who destroyed it, he said flatly.

Gray Fang cocked an eyebrow slightly.

What do you mean?

A clutch is not easily spoiled by one failed egg. But a flock can be destroyed by a creeping phage.

Gray Fang squinted in confusion.

I don't understand, he said.

I think what Finch is trying to say is that the Crassians only took advantage of something that was already there. A peace that is healthy does not easily falter. Yet the peace we so strongly clung to shattered to dust with only a gentle nudge. If it had truly been as strong as we once believed it to be, their efforts would have come to nothing. Yet they did not, said Phyland.

The Gin and the Fondo speak well, said the Yandian delegate.

Nahn, the chief Trepedor ambassador, nodded as well.

I am also in agreement. The decay of fellowship we see today is not the kind that comes quickly, but rather is the unfortunate byproduct of a much slower process of neglect and apathy. All of the races, ourselves included, have grown complacent with time, certain that the peace we enjoyed would last forever. Because of this, we all now suffer the result of such arrogant and foolish beliefs.

Which then leads to the question of how we can restore the peace we once enjoyed, said Phyland.

We!? You are new to the stars. How could you have enjoyed our peace? snapped Gray Fang.

Even though we did not achieve space flight until recently, our planet has still benefited from the many millennia of peace your ancestors created. If that peace had, at any time, faltered, there is no telling what could've befallen our planet, or our race. Without your peace, I would likely not be standing here speaking to you today. Trust me when I say this, Ambassador, the peace you seek to restore is the same peace I fight for as well. Therefore we are equal partners, and beneficiaries, in this struggle.

Gray Fang stared deeply at Phyland, and then over at Finch, as his ears, and his tail twitched thoughtfully. He soon grunted.

You speak well, Gin. Even though my government is still at odds with your people, I see that it would be most profitable if we were to work together to restore the peace we all once enjoyed.

It will indeed be very profitable, for all our races. Even those who are, or were, our enemies, said Phyland.

Gray Fang grinned slyly, his ears twitching thoughtfully as he did.

My people may still consider you to be Chappagi, however, I believe that in time you may earn the right to be called our kinsman.

Phyland bowed respectfully.

I'm hoping that, in time, we may.

Mike walked into Alfred's office and noticed that he didn't look up or even acknowledge his arrival. He then walked across the small office and plopped down casually in a chair in front of the desk. After a moment Alfred looked up and blinked in surprise at seeing Mike sitting there.

Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see you come in, said Alfred apologetically.

Mike laughed.

Come on, Alfred. For as long as we've known each other, do you really think I'd get all worked up about you not saying anything when I come in?

Alfred rubbed his head, as though in frustration.

No, I guess you wouldn't, he said.

Mike cocked an eyebrow at this.

Is something the matter? he asked.

Alfred perked up slightly.

Eh? Oh, sorry, no. Not really.

Mike frowned slightly.

Alright, I can tell that something's on your mind as you're not yourself today. So what's up? he said, half sternly, and half probingly.

Alfred sighed heavily, bit his lip slightly, and then put down his data pad.

I'm just trying to keep up with everything that's going on in the fleet right now, and it's proving to be a bit much. And to make things more interesting, I now have to decide what to do with these new Dawn Reaper class space stations the Saturn Shipyards have completed, he said with a hint of frustration.

Mike perked up slightly.

The Dawn Reapers? They're done already? he said with a hint of surprise.

Alfred shrugged.

Well, the first one is. The others are still either in the build stage, or going through shakedown and testing right now. But they should be available in the next month or two. After that we need to find places to use them and, for the life of me, I can't think of any.

Mike shrugged.

"Why not use two, and maybe even four of them to replace our old command stations. I mean, it is Command One and Two's mission to be a last line of defense in the event that enemy forces get close enough to attack Earth. And, if these new Dawn Reapers are anything like what I've read in the reports, I think they'll make excellent replacements for our old Egerds class command stations."

Alfred frowned slightly, as though Mike's idea was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard of. And then, as though a light bulb had suddenly come on, he paused. A thin, narrow smile slowly spread across his face as the idea gained traction in his mind.

Actually, sir, that might not be a bad idea, he said after a moment.

Mike laughed.

I actually think it's a great idea. It just makes sense, since it means that we don't need to build stations to specifically replace Command One and Two, which ultimately simplifies your work as well. Tell you what. Why don't you go ahead and requisition two of the new Dawn Reapers for duty as the new Command One and Two, and we'll settle at that for now. As for where we'll use the others, why don't we see how our inner system defenses are maturing in a couple of months, and then decide from there.

Alfred nodded.

Sounds like a plan to me! he said, with a much happier voice than he'd had earlier.

Just then Mike's communicator chirped. He cocked an eyebrow slightly at this, and then touched his ear.

Clayton here, he said.

Admiral, I'd like you in my office as soon as you're free, said Nordham.

Understood, sir. I'll be right up, replied Mike. He then looked at Alfred, and said, That was the Chancellor. He apparently wants to see me. So tell you what. Go ahead and get things sorted out with those stations, and I'll be by after my meeting, if I can, to help you get caught up with your work so you can have time to unwind a bit.

Alfred smiled.

Thank you, sir.

Chapter 2

Phyland stood in a large room full of delegates and marveled that, not just the Nine were represented there, but so were many of the other major and minor races as well. He soon glanced over to a nearby doorway as the sound of crashing and continued fighting echoed from the main senate chamber outside. One of the guards checked the door to be sure it was secured, and then nodded to the Prime Minister of the Alliance. He, in turn, grimaced slightly, and then looked out across the other delegates.

Esteemed members of the Alliance. I'm going to dispense with the formalities and get straight to the point. There is much we must do if we are to restore the peace we once enjoyed. Given the conflagration of delegates and ambassadors just outside our doors, I do not believe that you need to be reminded of its importance.

If those blasted Crassians hadn't tried to take over the galaxy, we wouldn't be in this mess! shouted one of the delegates.

Nahn stood up, and said, As has been pointed out by many others, the peace we once enjoyed was not destroyed by the treachery of the Crassians. Our treasured peace was already a tattered, disintegrating tapestry that shattered of its own accord. The Crassians merely provided the means by which its demise was settled.

Curse the Crassians! shouted another delegate.

The hunt has been good, and vengeance served. May their souls rot in the fires of Ahvanyar forever, said Gray Fang.

Phyland perked up at this.

What do you mean? Are you referring to the attempts to capture them, or something else? he asked.

Gray Fang grinned slightly, a long row of silvery teeth glistening from the corner of upturned, brownish lips.

The hunt has been good, he replied.

Finch cocked his head slightly, and said, Have you unjustly, and secretly, brought vengeance upon them?

Gray Fang's grin widened into a broad, toothy smile.

Our vengeance was not unjust, but it was swift. They shall plague us no more.

The Prime Minister gasped in horror.

Preposterous! It was agreed upon by all that the Crassians were to be captured and made to stand trial for their crimes! They were not to be harmed until justice had been properly served! he cried.

Gray Fang stood to his feet and growled angrily.

Their blood is the price due them for their treachery against this galaxy! While our people have not suffered the same fate that has befallen others of our brethren among the Nine, there is still their blood on our lips! Therefore, we have hunted them across the stars, from one quadrant to another, bringing justice all those we could find.

The room erupted into a rush of whispered words and audible surprise. The Prime Minister banged his large, iron gavel on the bench.

Absurd! How dare you go against the wishes of the Alliance, and exact vengeance on your own! he cried.

Gray Fang growled loudly, his tail snapping sharp and angrily.

"We did that which you choose not to do! Your pedantic inaction would only have served to hasten our demise! For, if they had gained their feet once more, they would not waste any time in seeking our destruction! Is it not enough for you that they tricked us into war!? Is it not enough for you that they have drawn the brotherhood of the Nine together against one another!? The Varnok and the Tragarians stand wounded before us, a dagger in their chest, because we did not act decisively! The Gayik'Von and the Trepedor have, in no wise, come out of this fight unscathed either. And what