Worldbuilding Prompt #776 - It Wasn't Supposed To Be Leaning

This post was inspired by a prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #776 - Leaning

I'm not sure if I should describe it as a postscript to the Saga of Alex Deroma that I published a while back, or the start of a new tale or what, but chronologically, it follows on from Worldbuilding Prompt #774 - What could go wrong?

Enjoy !

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

The crowd was huge. It felt like every Kerber who could get to the capital was there. A band was playing, a Kerber band with local instruments and playing their newly-composed anthem that was a mix of Imperial pomp, the stoic rhythms played when they'd been slaves, and the proud defiance of the rebellion that had freed them from the Slavers. It was complex and strange, but somehow it all worked together to make a fitting anthem for a newly freed folk.

Among the tens of thousands of small, furry Kerber was a podium. It was surrounded by an honour guard drawn from the 78th Combined Imperial Grenadier Division and Marines of the 3275 Battle Group, all in full dress uniforms.

Atop the podium was a group of dignitaries. Mostly local Kerber, but the guest of honour was Admiral Alexandra Deroma of the Imperial Navy. She stood tall and proud in her ceremonial uniform, adapted with some very non-regulation customisations created by her and her Kerber comrades during the war of liberation. It included a cloak of reptilian scales, the hide of the former Slaver governor of this world, Margal VI.

Everyone was here to witness the unveiling of the new Monument To The Martyrs, commemorating the hundreds of thousands of Kerber who had died throwing off the Slaver chains, and the untold billions of slaves who had suffered and died under their cruel alien masters.

The Monument was in the form of a huge needle, or spire. Four sided, the bottom fifty feet were embossed with the name of every world in the galaxy known to have been seeded with Kerber inhabitants by the Slavers. But not their locations, just in case the Slavers ever came back here and saw the Monument.

The rest of the spire, soaring nearly three thousand feet into the sky, was embossed with the names of every Kerber known to have died under the Slavers or fighting to be free of them. Not every name was known; most had been lost. But those which were known filled the edifice.

It had been designed by the Kerber architect Miriddim. Five years ago, he'd been a field-slave, like just about every other one of his kindred. But he'd taken to architecture as if he'd been born to it. He was on the podium, too; a shy fellow, small even for his kind, but known by all who met him to be both intelligent and kind.

Alex took hold of the red braid rope which would activate the tractor beam which would pull the huge cloth from around the bottom hundred feet of the spire. Her voice was amplified so all the gathered crowd could hear it.

"My comrades, valiant Kerber of Margal VI and watching from across the galaxy, and Imperial friends viewing from further afield, it gives me huge joy to unveil this Monument To The Martyrs, so that we will remember for all time those who gave their lives to free this world and galaxy from the evil Slavers."

Pulling the cord, the tractor beams were activated, and the great white sheets slid gracefully away from the needle-like monument.

As she did, there was a sudden roaring in the sky. A ship appeared out of nowhere, clearly out of control and trailing fire and smoke. It skimmed the nearby mountain ridge, drives screaming, and headed on a slanting path towards the ground, and the crowd.

The ship's sides were scored and burned in long streaks that could only have come from massive energy weapons. The damage was immense, but despite it the name on the ship's bow was somehow still legible; The Tarnished Phoenix.

Kerber ran screaming, but everyone knew it was hopeless. A a space cruiser crashing into them at that kind of speed would create an explosion measured in megatons.

Then a miracle happened; the pilot regained a tiny amount of control. One of the blazing drives stabilised for just a couple of seconds, enough for the ship to lift slightly away from the crowd.

Straight into the Monument.

A fin clipped it before the ship spun and roared away, tumbling off to belly-flop in a sliding fireball at the spaceport a few miles distant.

The Monument twisted on it's base, Steelium beams groaning and squealing in protest as the massive edifice responded to the impact. Girders could be heard squealing and snapping with a sound like gigantic rifle shots as the needle-like tower buckled and heeled over. Then just as it looked like falling onto the crowd, it stabilised.

The huge structure looked like a bent, twisted corkscrew, leaning over at an angle of almost thirty degrees.

Alex stood in shock, trying to absorb and process an event that had lasted at most fifteen seconds. But fifteen seconds that had caused such immense damage. The Monument was ruined, but to have something so symbolic torn down and rebuilt would be like some form of sacrilege.

Then she felt a small hand patting her elbow. She looked down and saw Mirridim. Her heart broke at the thought that all his work was wasted like this.

But then he grinned, a wide crazy grin and she knew she'd seen that kind of expression before.

"It's okay, Admiral-Alex," he said in an incongruously cheerful tone. "Monument is like Kerber. Battered and twisted, but standing strong and proud and defiant. Definite improvement. I like it."