Free The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) by Richard Sanders Page A

much about humanity that it had to exterminate them? True, the Polarian Confederacy could control much more of the galaxy without the humans and the Rotham to contend with, but the way the Dread Fleet had scourged several of their own worlds en route to here suggested some other motive. Something much darker.
    The Dread Fleet was the very sword of evil itself, Sir Arkwright decided. And hearing the queen’s earlier broadcast, picking up on her iron will to stop the Dread Fleet in its tracks—draw a line and allow the enemy never to cross it—all of that had buoyed his spirits some. But, as one of the few who had been at Centuria V—and lived to tell about it—he could not imagine how the re-organized shambles of the Imperial fleet could hope to withstand the Dread Fleet in all its numbers. Their blackened ships had been so numerous as to seem to obscure the very stars, at one point.
    “Oh, mighty God in heaven,” he knelt and prayed aloud—he was the only religious person on his ship, and the only person he knew that still clung to the ancient monotheistic ways that had appeared so early on in human history. “Please, God, hear my prayer. For a great evil lurks, an evil that will destroy us if you do not intervene. I beg of you for my people, our Empire, my wife, my unborn daughter, and all the innocents of the galaxy that they may now be spared the wrath of the Dread Fleet. I tell you now, Lord, if there must be a price paid in blood for this, then let it be mine. I will gladly give up my own life if it means I can save the others. Please help us. Help me. I beg of you, Almighty One. Amen.”
    After that, he stood and headed for the bridge, needing to make certain all fleets that had arrived were cleared for action and awaiting orders. We draw the line here , he thought. Here and no further . Because if the Dread Fleet defeats us today, or tomorrow, or whenever they finally come…there will be no Empire to save humanity, and shortly thereafter, no humanity left to save anywhere.
     
    ***
     
    The ISS Hyperion had escaped the battle at Centuria V relatively unscathed; for that, Fleet Admiral Isolda Ravinder was grateful. However, both Queen Kalila and Sir Arkwright had entrusted her to act as Fleet Commander of the initial attack force dispatched to Centuria V, despite Sir Arkwright’s presence. At the time, it had been her greatest honor. Now, though, as she stared out the window at the blackness, from her seat at the command position of the Hyperion , she felt only shame.
    “Eight billion people…” she muttered aloud. And that wasn’t counting the thousands of officers and soldiers who had died when their ships had been eviscerated by the mighty weapons of the Dread Fleet. We moved in close, she thought, we gave them everything we had…and what did it buy us? Nothing .
    The battle had been an unmitigated disaster, and, even though a majority of the human forces were salvaged and ready to fight again, the fact that they had been forced to retreat at all—and abandon all those Imperial citizens—disgusted her on the most profound level. She hated the Dread Fleet for its atrocities, but Ravinder hated herself almost as much for abandoning Centuria V and leaving so many to die, utterly defenseless. True, she had been following orders, but what were orders really? If she had stayed put, she likely would have died, but at least the people of Centuria V would have gotten the best chance of survival possible. And, had she remained behind and somehow prevailed, she would have been subject to a general court martial, but what did that matter? She would accept any penalty if it meant saving eight billion lives, even though her chances of success had been beyond bleak.
    The sight of the Dread Fleet surrounding Centuria V haunted her—it had been like thousands of black beetles swarming around a beautiful glass orb, leaving it in ruins—but there was nothing she could do to change the past. Her defeat was her defeat,