The Siege

The Siege
Hour 8
Six hours ago, they had worked out that the thing was using the shadows, and so Command had pushed the ship’s lighting up to its highest setting, and ordered all personnel to remain away from any areas that were not sufficiently lit, no matter what.
Five hours ago, there had been a small explosion in the reactor room – not enough to cripple the ship but enough to cause non-essential systems to drop into low-power mode.  As far as the ship’s limited AI had been concerned, lighting came under the non-essential heading.  Of course, Command had ordered Engineering to get the lighting systems re-classified as “essential”, but less than five minutes into the process they’d all been butchered.  After that, Command had not been willing to send more engineers out to die and had instead ordered all remaining personnel on the ship to make their way to either the command deck or the med bays as a matter of urgency – they were the only zones on the ship whose systems were all marked as essential.  They had lost another forty-seven crew in the ensuing scramble – eight of them to friendly fire, and four due to accidents en route; the rest had been butchered.
One hour ago, all contact with the Medical Centre had abruptly ceased.  There had been no call for help, and the comms seemed to be working fine, but nobody on the other end was answering.  There had been suggestion amongst those on the command deck that perhaps those crew members there had tried to make a run for it to join up with the ship’s Command, but nobody really believed that.  Nor did they believe that the crew there were keeping radio silence to try and fool the thing that was stalking them.
Now, the command deck of the flagship Chani IV was uncomfortably crowded, with the ship’s climate control systems struggling to cope with all the extra bodies putting out heat.  There was also the issue of supplies – food they could cope without for several more days without any serious issue but, between the heat and the adrenalin of terror, dehydration would become a serious problem sooner rather than later.  Seventeen people from an original complement of nearly two hundred; that was all that was left.  They hadn’t even been able to contact the other ships in the small siege fleet as the long-range comms had been the first system to go down, and with quarantine protocols in place – how the thing had known about them was anyone’s guess – the surviving crew of the Chani IV were not anticipating help anytime soon.
 
Hour -1
“Sir, they’re hailing us.”  Admiral Fendo looked up blearily at his subordinate, taking a few moments to recall who the man was and what he did.
“Who is?” he replied, the tiredness evident in his voice; it had been a long siege.
“The Tallawan shuttle, sir.  The one our scanners picked up leaving the planet’s orbit three hours ago.”
“Oh, yes.  Yes, I asked you to keep me updated, didn’t I?”  Fendo straightened up in his chair and brushed his hand down his crumpled tunic.  “Thank you, ah…,” he squinted at the man, “Lieutenant Roni.”  The communications officer gave a quick nod and sat back down.
“Shall I put them through, sir?” he asked.
“Yes, yes.  Voice only, mind.  Don’t want them to see that we’re as tired of this siege as they are.”  The officer nodded again, then opened the relevant channel and signalled to his commander that he was now connected.  “This is Admiral Fendo, of the Chani IV, representing the fleet of the Serket Hegemony.  To whom am I speaking?”  There was a pause lasting several seconds before the reply came through.
“Greetings, Admiral.  This is Ambassador T’Vorcia, speaking for the Royal House of Tallawah.  I am accompanied by Princess Talija ní Tallawah.  We wish to parley.”  Fendo sat back in his chair, blinking several times.  They were sending a member of the royal family to parley with them?  Optimism began to stir in his heart.
“Very well, Ambassador.  You may proceed to docking distance… masked coordinates to the bay are being transmitted to your ship’s AI now,” Fendo gestured to the comms officer, who began tapping away at the screen before him.  “You are, ah,” he looked to the officer, who held up four fingers, “approximately four minutes out.  We shall speak more when you arrive.  Admiral Fendo out.”
“Understood, Admiral.  Ambassador T’Vorcia out.”
There was silence in the command deck once the conversation finished, and Fendo found himself being stared at by his officers, their weary eyes allowing a glimmer of hope to shine through.  Fendo raised a cautionary hand.
“I know what you are all thinking, and believe me when I say I am thinking it too – the first attempt to parley in person since this siege began, and their ambassador is accompanied by one of their royal family.  But let us not get carried away.  Remember how we all believed that the destruction of Asherah would finally bring a Tallawan surrender, and instead they just dug in deeper?  Or the battles in the Endiku system, where they refused to surrender despite our overwhelming force, and instead fought on till the last of their ships had been destroyed?”  All around him, eyes lowered as reality chipped away at their optimism.  “The Tallawan are a stubborn people, and a proud people.  I would not be surprised if this attempt to parley is a stalling tactic, or even a distraction.  We need to be on our guard and remember that the war is not over yet.  But…,” Fendo shrugged and allowed himself a slight smile, “that they’re approaching us at all does mean they’re weakening.  So even if this isn’t the formal surrender we all hope for, it does at least suggest that the end is in sight and that we might get to go home to our families before you’re all as old and decrepit as me!”
There was a chorus of polite laughter.  Admiral Fendo, the “Grand Old Man” of the Serket navy, was a popular figure amongst his people.  To those under his command, he was almost like a grandfather, and to the citizens back home he was a war hero and a legend in his own lifetime.  There was not a man on the ship who did not respect the Admiral, and who would not lay down their life for him without hesitation.
“Sir, the ambassador’s shuttle has reach auto-dock range.”  Reported the ship’s comms officer.  “All scans have come back clean – no weaponry of any description found on board, not even personal arms.”  Admiral Fendo raised an eyebrow; no arms at all?  He would have expected a sidearm for the ambassador at the very least.  Of course, the ambassador would surrender it immediately upon boarding the Chani IV, but it was a matter of appearances.
“Hail them,” he replied.  “On-screen, this time.”  The officer nodded, and a few moments later the main screen of the command deck was occupied by the fur-covered features of a Tallawan.  Admiral Fendo knew enough of the Tallawan people to know that he was looking at a male of fairly advanced years.  Not so advanced as his own, however – Fendo was of the Alkonost, the dominant race in the Serket Hegemony, and a people for whom seeing a third century of life was not impossible, with a good diet and a bit of care, and Fendo was considered old even by those standards.
“Admiral Fendo,” said the Tallawan, giving a small nod of respect.  “I had presumed you to be a descendent of the Admiral Fendo I knew of.”
“The original, I’m afraid,” replied the Admiral, smiling politely whilst trying to look as composed and refreshed as he could.  “Am I correct in assuming that you are Ambassador T’Varcia?”
“I am,” confirmed the ambassador.  “With me is Princess Talija ní Tallawah.”  The ambassador leaned to one side and redirected his shuttle camera to point at a much younger Tallawan seated in the chair beside him.  Fendo was no xenophile, but he had to admit that the princess was quite a striking creature, with the most vivid purple eyes he had ever seen.  They reminded him of some of the flowers his third wife had been so fond of.
“Well met, Ambassador, and well met Your Majesty.”  The princess gave a nod so slight that Fendo almost missed it, and said nothing.  The camera swung back to the ambassador.  “Our scans tell us that you are unarmed, Ambassador.”  The admiral’s tone suggested that he wasn’t entirely sure the scans were correct.
“Our people have been at war for decades, Admiral.  The Princess here was not even born when the Serket Hegemony stopped politely asking us to join and resorted to force.  And for all this fighting, can it be said either side has benefitted?  We both have lost countless numbers of people, ships, and resources.  No, Admiral, war impoverishes us all and weapons are nothing more than a crutch for men who would sooner strike than speak.  Their time has passed, so let us end this war without them.”  The ambassador smiled thinly, and Fendo found himself somewhat taken aback by the little speech.  There was no part of it that was untrue – though the Tallawan were very firmly on the losing side in the attrition stakes – but to hear a Tallawan official as good as admit that they wanted an end to the fighting was nothing less than astonishing.  In all the wars he had fought, he had never met a people so intractable.  The few prisoners they had managed to take during land battles and ship boarding actions had been about as communicative as statues.  Even under the most advanced interrogation methods they revealed little, and had shown an astounding courage and fortitude.  He himself had personally witnessed a Tallawan soldier – a young female, barely an adult – kill her interrogator with her bare hands and then take her own life, all while heavily restrained and weakened from blood loss.  After that incident, they had taken to keeping prisoners at gunpoint at all times, even when they slept or were unconscious.
Fendo stared at the ambassador, willing him to give something away.  The man’s cat-like face was almost impossible for him to read, however.  Apparently the trick was to watch their ears and whiskers, but Fendo had found that did nothing more than give him a vague urge to pet them.
“Are you talking about peace, Ambassador?”  He said at last.
“We all wish to end this fighting, Admiral.  You and all those in your fleet have family and loved ones who miss you, and we all have those we need to mourn.  We would not see one more Tallawan life lost in a war we cannot win.”
“I… no, of course.  You are right, Ambassador.  This war has gone on for far too long.  It will be good to see its end.”  Admiral Fendo turned in his seat to address the comms officer again, “Give the hangar team permission to dock the ambassador’s shuttle, Roni.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the lieutenant, unable to keep the grin from his face.  On screen, the Tallawan ambassador looked away for a moment at something to his right – presumably his ship confirming their docking procedure – and gave a small nod of satisfaction.  Fendo saw him say something to the princess next to him; he didn’t know enough Tallawan to make it out completely, but he caught ‘Thank you’.
“Admiral?” said T’Varcia, turning back to face his comms screen.
“Yes, Ambassador?”
“I lied.  There will be one more Tallawan death.”  The screen went blank as the line disconnected.  Admiral Fendo found himself staring at it for several moments, puzzled.
“What did he me-,” the Admiral stopped mid-word as a flashing light on his report screen caught his eye; he knew immediately from the colour that it wasn’t one of the nice ones.
“Detonation reported at docking bay seven, Admiral!”  Yelled a midshipman.
“What in the Hells happened?!”  The junior officer had already turned back to his screen, quickly scanning the damage report as it came in.
“It… I…,” he half-turned in his seat to look at the admiral.  “The shuttle, sir.”  The young man swallowed nervously before continuing, “The Tallawan shuttle exploded, sir.”
“Exp-,”
“Casualties reported in docking bays five, seven, and nine, sir!”  Interrupted another officer.
“Long-range comms are down, sir,” continued the midshipman, “and we have a major hull-breach.  ETA till sealed fourteen minutes; relevant sector already locked down.”
“Both of you, shut up!” Bellowed the admiral, standing from his chair.  “Nothing turns an accident into a disaster quicker than people panicking.  Now, Midshipman Teve, please be kind enough to take a deep breath and then give me a full damage report.”
“Yes, sir!”  Replied the officer, regaining some composure.  “The Tallawan shuttle detonated without warning shortly before docking completed, sir.  We do not yet know why.  Docking bay seven has suffered catastrophic damage and is completely offline.  Docking bays five and nine have also suffered damage and are experiencing containment failure.  Additionally, the explosion has caused a hull breach through to the auxiliary hanger; the hanger has been isolated without any significant atmosphere leak or damage to neighbouring sectors.  It is, however, now offline pending repairs.”
“Right, thank you.  Rewill,” he turned to face the officer who’d reported the casualties, “what’s the loss of life at?”
“Sir, the entire crew complement of bay seven has been lost.  Bay five reports no loss of life but four crew members are in need of medical care.  Bay seven has lost eleven crew members to the explosion and subsequent leak. Aux. hangar reports no loss of life, and no injuries.  Sixty-one crew total, sir.”
“Severe injuries?” asked Fendo; the officer glanced at his screen again.
“Not life-threatening, sir.”  Admiral Fendo nodded, and drummed his fingers absent-mindedly on the back of his chair.
“And we still don’t know what caused the explosion?”
“No, sir,” replied Midshipman Teve.  “The Tallawan shuttle was orienting itself to land when it just… exploded.”  Fendo stared at the officer for some time, recalling the ambassador’s last words about there being one more death.
“Fuck,” he announced, his voice completely calm and level.  “They didn’t come here to parley at all – it was a suicide mission.”
“But what about the princess, sir?” pointed out Lt. Roni.
“Ever seen any of the Tallawan royal family, Roni?  How confident are you that you could pick them out in a line-up of Tallawans?  The woman on that ship could have been anyone.  Hells, she may even have been the one who detonated the ship, for all we know.”  There was silence on the command deck for some moments before Roni spoke up again.
“Sir, what are your orders?”
“We continue as planned, Lieutenant.  As regrettable as the loss of life is, it changes nothing: our ship is still operating within acceptable parameters, and the rest of the fleet is unaffected.”  He paused, then reconsidered.  “Hmm, we’ll need to ready a short-range shuttle to contact Hammer and let them know what’s going on, also to forewarn them of my arrival; I can’t very well command a fleet from a ship with no comms, and the Hammer of Lianii is our next best-suited vessel to serve as a flasgship.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll have the…,” Roni paused when he saw an incoming call.  “Sir, I have Commander Varde calling the deck.”
“Put him through, Roni.”  The admiral tapped his ear implant as the call was directed to his private channel.  “Commander Varde, what’s-,” Fendo stopped as his second-in-command talked over the top of him.  “What?  Varde, slow down, I-,” adjusting the volume of the call, the Admiral glanced over to his Midshipman.  “Teve, get me footage of the Commander’s sector on-screen, now!”  The whole command deck turned to stare at the images that appeared on the main-screen, eyes wide and mouths open. 
The entire sector was in chaos; none of the twelve viewpoints offered by the sector’s security cameras looked as they should.  Walls were covered with scorches and small impact craters from weapon-fire, and the Admiral could not even hazard a guess as the total count of bodies that lay strewn on the floors.  He saw a group of three crew members running down a corridor, one of them looking back to fire behind him with his sidearm.  A light flickered and then went out, and a blurred figured leapt out at the three men.  There was no audio on the security feed, and for that the Admiral was sincerely grateful – in a handful of seconds the three men lay dead, their blood sprayed liberally about the corridor, and the figure was gone.
“Varde, what in the Hells is happening down there?!  Yes, yes, I can see that, but what is it?  I… No, I can’t- wait, yes I see you now.”  On-screen, the commander came into view on one of the images, facing the camera directly as he continued talking to Fendo through their direct link. 
“Varde!”  yelled the Admiral, reflexively pointing behind the Commander at a blurred figure that had entered the screen from the top.  “Midshipman, get a full security detail down there, immediately!  And get that sector sealed from the inside – I don’t want anything or anyone coming out without my say-so!”  The officers aboard the Chani IV continued to watch in fascinated horror as Commander Varde edged away from the thing that approached him, backing him into a corner.  They saw him raise his gun and fire off two shots.  They saw the thing move with preternatural speed to dodge them, and then brutally and literally disarm the Commander.  Fendo heard the man’s scream as he lost his hand, and slid to the floor, clutching at the gushing stump. 
“Now, Midshipman!”  The officer snapped out of his stupor and hurriedly tapped away at his command screen.  Fendo watched on as the creature on-screen lowered itself down to the stricken commander’s level.  He heard a voice like a primal growl that sent a shiver down his spine as the thing extended a limb towards Varde.  The commander screamed again, and then went silent.  Admiral Fendo could not be sure, but he would have sworn that the blurred creature looked up at the camera then.
“Roni, cut the feed,” he said, barely able to keep the tremor from his voice.  He looked around him at the pale, terrified faces of his officers.  “What in the fuck was that thing?” he muttered.
 
Hour -3
Miles below the orbiting Chani IV, Emperor Ferri III of the Tallawan Empire stood in the council room of the royal palace, hands clasped behind his back and his eyes surveying the skies of his homeworld through two-inch thick bulletproof windows.  Standing by the council table, his Minister for Intrigue politely cleared his throat.