The Circle of Yesterday

“It cannot end like this…” said Kyle, watching through the window of a Drivable Armed Transport Utility Vehicle, how his battle cruiser exploded in the distance.

It was one of the new models, among dozens of other first-grade military ships stationed in the military docking bay that was lightening the night sky with bright blue flames.

“At least some of us are alive,” said Freya.

He wiped blood from his eyes and turned back to his crew. Or what was left of it; only eight of them survived. Despite what just happened, they were standing strong, with steel resolve and unshakeable devotion towards their commander. He bit his bottom lip and shed a tear.

The enemy attack was sudden, unpredictable, and in the worst possible time. Nobody knew how they managed to come through the planetary shield, why the sensors and radars didn’t notice them beforehand, or why the hell would someone attack a strategically unimportant, barren outpost, but that was not important right now.

“I should have listened to you sooner Freya, when you told me that something wasn’t right with the comms.”

“But you listened. Better late than never. Unlike those there,” she pointed towards the burning battlecruisers, assault fighters, and destroyers. She put on her haptic gloves, VR glasses and connected a cable from her wrist PC into a port on the wall. ”I need to check something.”

Kyle gave her approval with a nod, touched the side of his head, and activated the transmission implant. “This is commander Ayrshire, requesting immediate connection to the Alliance Defense HQ.”

No response.

“This is commander Ayrshire, code red, I urgently need an immediate connection to the Planetary Defense HQ!”

The silence was the answer. He tried again and again, but didn't get any type of response, not even buzzing. His attempts were interrupted by Freya.

“Kyle, we have a problem, a huge one! Their attack specifically aimed at this planet.”

“How do you know that?”

“Remember when I talked about the fact that they are using our own network against us? So I used the military Multipurpose Enhanced Intelligence to decipher their communication within our own grid.”

He wanted to lecture her about how hacking into their own system and misusing top-grade AI for her whims isn’t exactly legal and both of them could face jail but bit his tongue because her curiosity saved their lives and only sighed. 

She noticed that, smirked, and continued. “So, why would the enemy attack here? On this forsaken planet? What could they gain from destroying this piece of rock with no resources or purpose, on the edge of our borders?”

“Freya, if it is urgent, stop being mysterious and talk!”

“Ok, ok, chill down.” she grabbed something with her gloves and threw it towards the holoboard table. A 3D image of a rotating planet. She turned towards the table and with a few hand movements, zoomed in. “It seems they arrived with some structure pieces attached to their ships. It is just my guess, but they are currently assembling a giant warp. You know, the one we have here is too small, not only because we don’t need a bigger one, but also as a part of security measures. If they repurpose it and attach it to theirs, they would not only be able to transport their whole army right here to us, but-.”

“But send it right to the middle of our galaxy alliance, way behind our defenses,” Kyle finished her sentence.

“Exactly.”

 “A sudden attack right in the heart of our nation, at this scale…” he thought out loud, “until the HQ realizes what is happening and gathers the forces, it will be too late.”

“Sir, what do you want us to do?” asked Lieutenant Turner from behind the steering wheel. “All the ships on this planet were destroyed. The comms aren’t working, the base is gone and all we have is this DATUV and less than a dozen people.”

Kyle rubbed his eyes with his fingers, thinking deeply. A sudden realization crossed his mind. He smirked. “There is one ship left. Battlecruiser Balmung.”

“Balmung? That Balmung? Are you crazy?” shook Turner his head in disbelief.

“Am I? Maybe. Does it really matter? We might die trying to do at least something, but we are dead if we do nothing.” Kyle sat down next to the lieutenant and with pressing a button took over the control of the vehicle. “Freya, send me the coordinates. Let’s see how fast this baby can go.”

“Yeah Kyle,” she replied but immediately corrected herself. “I mean, right away commander!”

He turned the vehicle and with full speed ahead, rushed towards the city through a barren, lifeless landscape. The city was several hours of ride and the time was ticking. The ship was stationed in the middle of a residential zone, in a gargantuan commercial center. Luckily for them, the enemies had some plans with the inhabitants of the planet, because they did not destroy the city, unaware of the battleship.

When they finally arrived, the whole city was in lockdown mode and they managed to pass the sealed gates of the dome only thanks to Freya and her capabilities. Everything inside looked like everyone suddenly vanished. Car standing in the middle of streets, not a living soul in sight, and uneasy silence, interrupted every five minutes with a message about evacuation. 

For the humongous military vehicle with its eight 60’’ wheels accustomed to most types of landscapes, it was absolutely no problem to ram its way through the blocked streets. Yet, it took them another three hours to reach their destination. They rammed their way through the front door of the mall, destroying everything in their path towards their goal, the middle. 

They crashed through the last wall and found themselves in a spacious hall, with Balmung filling almost the whole space of it. It was more than 250m long, 100m wide and at least 50m tall. It was crude, almost like a big, metal box. Signs of heavy usage and an occasional hole or melted steel after a blaster shot decorated the outer layer.

“Commander, I don’t know what you are thinking, but that ship is over 150 years old. It’s a relic of old ages, a showpiece,” noted Turner after they entered the cockpit. “The technology here is so outdated, I have no idea what I am even looking at.”

“All equipped weapons are gauss rifles, with added supporting fire-control systems, but still analog controlled and require people to operate,” Freya explained, with her glasses and gloves on. “The engines are electric propulsion and haven’t been started for 57 years. They should work, but we need to calibrate and set them up first, and that isn’t computer or AI-supported. There are some manuals in databases on how to do it, but it would take time to go through it all. In addition to that, the minimum number of crew required to operate this ship is twenty.”

“There are only nine of us left, commander, what do you want us to do?” asked Turner and pointed towards the remaining six people, standing behind him.

Kyle leaned his hands on the dashboard and looked through the window. After a moment he suddenly straightened and smirked. “Follow me, hurry. ”

Right outside of the entrance ramp stood around twenty-five old men, all with the same shirt with a spaceship in front of a galaxy with ASF letters on it. Some were missing limbs and hand replacements, others were heavily scarred or had bioimplants that were keeping them alive. 

Kyle went down the ramp and shook hands with a small, old man with an artificial arm and a black beret. 

“Ur a’ that su’vived?” he asked and with a judging look evaluated Kyle’s crew, still standing on the entrance ramp.

“Sadly sir,” replied Kyle, taking a deep breath and a small pause before continuing. “I know it is not appropriate, and I am not sure how to say this, but-.” 

“Whit dae y' need, lads? Juist shoot straeght wi’ us. We kin be auld, yit we‘r nae fools.”

“We need your help. And this battleship.”   

Angus turned toward the men behind him and asked: “Ur ya fur yin lest dance, fellas?”

There was a brief silence, during which they were looking among each other, shrugging, leaning their heads to the side, or nodding. Then finally, a man with half of his head replaced by a metal alloy and a bionic eye stepped forward. 

“Why do you even ask, if you already know the answer, you old senile fuckehad?”

“Aye, chief general!” shouted the rest of them immediately after.

Angus looked at Kyle and made a barely visible nod the moment their eyes met. He took a deep breath and shouted from the bottom of his lungs: “Sae how come ya standing 'ere, ya guid fur nix lazy dryshites? Code rid! Tae ya places!”

Without even looking at his crew, Kyle ordered: “Help them. Takeoff in 30 minutes. Go!”

“Come lad, a’ tak' ye tae th' bridge,” said Angus and tapped Kyle on the shoulder.

They entered the ship and went straight towards the captain’s bridge, through the small, narrow metal corridors of the battleship.

“What is the status of munitions?”

“Oan th' ship, non. Bit we hae sam supplies o' standardized solid metal slugs. Aroond 1000 roonds ”

“That will be tough, it's not even half of the normal ammunition load,” sighed the commander. “What about fuel?”

“Nuff fur wey thare. Hardly fur th' wey back.” 

Kyle took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, but no words left his mouth. Without further questions or remarks, they continued silently until they reached the thick sliding doors. They automatically opened to the sides when they were in proximity, revealing a platform situated partially above a spacious room.

Right against them were the windows, which gave them a nice wide view of what was going outside. The walls of the room were equipped with a lot of displays, which decorated the walls, with a lot of consoles under them. Each console had seats designed for its respective crew; two seats for pilots right in front of the windows, one for the navigator to their left, one for sensors and radar to their right, one for the communication expert on the side, and two for the control system operators which were situated below the captain’s bridge.

Kyle sat down on the main seat and touched his implanted comm chip. “Freya, give me a status report.”

“The enemy is progressing faster than I anticipated. They are halfway done.”

“Already? How is that possible?!”

“Not only their technology is beyond our own, from the tempo they have, but they also had to prepare for this for years, if not decades.”

“Can you calculate our chances?”

“What chances? Of destroying them? Of or possible survival? Or reaching space with this piece of junk?”

“Freya!”

“Fine, fine. Chances that the reactor will explode when we turn it on, 3.9%. Chance of reaching space with this ancient chunk of metal, 76.9%. If they don’t spot us, there is a 31% probability we can get to the gate, but if they see us, that drops to something like 2%. Our possible survival, meaning returning back, when I take into account the ammunition, fuel, age of this battlecruiser, enemy technology, and what we intend to do, then almost zero.”

“Roger that.” He let go of the comm chip and looked at Angus. His facial expression could be read like a book and said more than any spoken words.

“If we did nae wantae, we wouldn' be 'ere. Whitevur happens, we ur in it th'gither lad.”

 Kyle suppressed the urge to shed a tear and only replied: “Aye, chief general.” He turned in the chair and pressed a button. “Engine room, how long until we can take off? Our time is running out.”

“Fox reporting, commander. We are finishing calibrations on the reactor and thrusters. We can start it afterward. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes, sir.”

“Munition deck, report.”

“Sir commander, sir, Hawthorn reporting. We finished loading all available ammo, soldiers are taking their places in the gauss cannon control chairs and are adjusting the settings for their personal needs. We are ready.”

“Cargo deck, report.”

“Commander, all restraints have been removed, anchoring to the floor has been removed and the loading ramp can now be properly closed. Finished loading, but we need to test the air-tightness, just to be on the safe side. Shouldn’t take more than fifteen to twenty minutes.”

Kyle touched his comm chip. “Freya, where are you?”

“Standing right behind you,” she replied. “Why?”

“Where is Turner? And the others?”

“They will be here any minute, commander. I’ll take care of the comms,” she informed him, went down the stairs towards the communication section, sat down, and started to tinker with ports so she could connect her modern AI and VR setup to the old ship communication framework.

Kyle leaned towards the microphone and called the engine room once again. “Fox, start the engines.”

“Right away sir.” In less than a minute. A wave of vibration shook the ship and a loud, frightening eerie sound echoed within the corridors. A high-pitched voice suddenly said: “Everything is as it should, engines performing flawlessly.”

Turner with the rest of the crew entered the room, together with Angus’ men. Each one of them knew what their job was and knew their places. They all sat down, prepared, and turned towards Kyle, impatiently awaiting his orders.

He stood up and nodded towards Freya, which connected his comm chip to the whole ship, every speaker, headset, or screen. “If someone wants to leave, he has 5 minutes and I won’t blame him if he goes. If you decide to stay, you agree to listen to all my orders.” He knew nobody would leave, yet he gave them several seconds for a decision before he continued: “But! I am telling you, we have two choices. Either we die as heroes up there, or we die as cowards down here! The choice is obvious, so let’s fuck up those bastards!”

A loud cheer filled the bridge.

“Turner, all engines maximum output, full speed ahead. Blast it out of here.”

In a curl of smoke, dust, and fire, Balmung majestically rose into the air and broke through the ceiling of the mall. The engines started to hum louder and louder as their speed towards the orbit increased and the atmosphere inside of the ship became heavier, the closer to their inevitable end they were.