by P P Corcoran
As the clock struck two minutes in-system John spoke once more. “Comms. The fleet will advance.”
From four different directions thousands of warships lit off their engines. So began the battle.
✽✽✽
THE DYSON SPHERE
The high-speed carriage carrying the Supreme Leader and Star Leader Foral raced through the darkness in silence on its magnetic rails. A silence that was reflected in the carriage’s interior. Lorai, designer of the Dyson Sphere and director of the breeding program which had populated it, had immediately called Foral when the alarm was raised that there was an enemy fleet approaching.
“How have they found us?” Lorai had demanded to know. “What shall we do?” She had cried.
“We will fight them, and we will be victorious against the half-breeds!” Screamed Foral as he had terminated the connection. Now though, having seen the strength of the not one but four separate fleets homing in on the Dyson Sphere he felt the first stirrings of self-doubt. Glancing across at the Supreme Leader deep in thought as the carriage sped them to the docks where the ships of First Wing lay idle awaiting their arrival Foral steeled himself. They were Saiph and Saiph were destined to rule the stars.
“Foral, what is the latest from Third Wing?”
“Geoll, and a small element of his command were conducting a training cruise for a new batch of crew and are beyond the defensive envelope of our fixed weapons’ emplacements. Computer predictions indicate that, even at maximum drive, the half-breeds will intercept them long before they reach safety. Geoll’s only hope is that we sally forth with all available ships and come to his aid. The remainder of the fleet could then join us and cover our withdrawal.”
The Supreme Leader brought his fist crashing down on the edge of his seat in frustration. “Losing Geoll will be a blow to our standing. The populace looks up to him. Respect him. To them, we are something that they’ve read about in historical texts. They’ve had no chance to warm to us. To appreciate that we, the Originals who fled the corruption and misguided ways of the Elders; we will lead them to victory over the half-breeds.”
Foral remained silent as the Supreme Leader vented his frustration. As commander of the Saiph fleet he had witnessed firsthand how occasionally, furtively an order given by him would led to an exchange of glances between officers and enlisted alike before the order was executed. It was a momentary pause and one that Foral had initially dismissed as simple nervousness among an inexperienced crew. Something that would disappear once they had tasted their first fire of combat. Worryingly, this had not been so. It appeared to Foral that there were some among his officer corps who were experiencing doubts. Perhaps not in the aim of ensuring the Saiph were the pinnacle of civilizations in the galaxy. No, it was more with the Supreme Leaders commitment to achieving that goal by eradicating any race that stood in his way. A thought occurred to Foral as the carriage approached its destination. One he chose to share with the Supreme Leader before they arrived within earshot of another.
“Supreme Leader, what if we turn the loss of Geoll to our advantage?”
The Supreme Leader looked at his subordinate with raised eyebrows then, slowly, he understood what Foral was getting at and a thin smile lifted his lips. “We announce our profound sense of loss at Geoll, a hero of the Saiph who gave his life fighting the half-breeds to his last breath. We express our anger and promise that he shall be avenged.”
“The people will have their figurehead and you, Supreme Leader, will have secured their unquestioning loyalty.”
Foral could see the Supreme Leader was seriously considering his suggestion.
“How long would we have to delay our departure?” Asked the Supreme Leader as he continued to weigh up his options.
Foral reached across to a small control pad and entered his security code. “How may I be of assistance, Star Leader Foral?” Came the dispassionate voice of the artificial intelligence that controlled every function of the Dyson Sphere from maintaining the orbits of the solar panels that encompassed their star and supplied the industries and homes of the Saiph near limitless power, to ensuring the water pressure of a farms hydroponics bay was set correctly. In short, the AI was central to everything and only a handful were trusted with access to the AI directly. Foral had that access.
“Time to intercept of Caretaker Geoll’s vessels by the enemy fleet?”
“Twenty-eight vols at current speed, though that may vary dependent on ship maneuvering.”
“Recalculate time parameters taking into account the most efficient evasive tactics.”
“Thirty-four vols.”
“Calculate time required for First Wing to reach Caretaker Geoll’s position if we delay its departure until sufficient personnel have manned Second Wing to allow it to deploy?”
“Thirty-three vols.” Replied the AI.
The Supreme Leader shook his head. “Not long enough, Foral.”
Foral’s brain raced as he tried to think of a way to buy himself more time then an idea flashed into his brain. “Where are the majority of Second Wings crew right now?”
“Crews are currently responding to the emergency recall announcements and are proceeding via the mass transit system on priority carriages.”
A wicked toothy grin spread across Foral’s features. “Recalculate previous time estimate reducing the carriages carrying Second Wing personnel by -”, Foral did the rough math, “25 percent.”
“Thirty-five vols.” The AI reported dispassionately.
The Supreme Leader strode across the carriage and clasped Foral by the shoulder giving him a sharp nod.
“Reduce speed of those carriages by 25 percent with immediate effect.” Foral said as their own carriage reached the docks where First Wing were secured. As the vehicle’s doors opened both Saiph were assailed by a barrage of noise as orders were shouted and running crew rushed to complete their final tasks that would allow First Wing to race to the rescue of shipmates.
Five thousand kilometers away the speed of the packed carriage carrying Trakl and naval personnel in various states of dress to the docks were Third Wing was moored slowed perceptibly. Geoll’s second-in-command had remained behind at Geoll’s insistence as it had been Trakl’s daughters second birthday and he had planned a visit to the inland sea. Now though, Trakl was berating himself for putting family before duty. He should be on the bridge with Geoll. Fighting the enemy and protecting not only his own family but the Saiph race from the war like half-breeds. Trakl activated his link to the AI to demand an explanation.
“Explain the reduction of speed of -,” Trakl hunted for the carriage designator partially hidden by the heads of his fellow passengers, “Eh, X093L2?”
“Carriage X093L2 speed reduced due to a priority command override.”
What! What idiot ordered that? Thought Trakl as he stifled a string of expletives that wanted to erupt from his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he calmed himself for the AI was only following orders after all.
“Countermand that order on my authority. Return to previous acceleration forthwith.”
“Unable to comply.”
Now Trakl did swear out loud causing a number of heads to turn in his direction until they noted his rank and abruptly found something more interesting to look at through the carriage’s windows.
“Explain.” Demanded Trakl his grip on the stanchion he was leaning against tightening so that his knuckles went white.
“Unable to comply.”
Trakl’s nostrils flared as he opened his mouth to interrogate the AI further before he realized the fruitlessness in it. Trakl had grown up having the AI instantly available to answer any question or respond to any command that he had adequate authority to instruct. An authority set by firstly his parents, then his tutors and now, finally, by his command authority as a naval officer. That familiarity with how the AI’s complex reasoning software worked had taught him one thing if nothing else. When the AI said it was unable to comply with a command no amount of a
rgument or circumnavigation would change its answer. The question that lurked at the back of Trakl’s mind now was who had sufficient authority to countermand him.
✽✽✽
THIRD WING TRAINING CRUISE
Geoll was flung against his seats restraints as his vessel was lashed by Directed Energy Weapons and rocked by the explosion of multi kiloton nuclear warheads that battered relentlessly at his energy shields. Another explosion caused the bow of his ship to drop sharply flinging Geoll’s head sharply back until it impacted on the padded head rest. A sharp pain caused Geoll to reach up and touch his tongue. The finger came away with blood on it. Pungent smoke filled the air from an electrical fire that had broken out in the Navigational Section and crewmembers were dousing it with chemical fire extinguishers, which added to the diminishing visibility and foul air.
“We’ve lost forward shield emitters!” Cried a voice Geoll struggled to identify in the haze. Damn, I should have spent more time familiarizing myself with this crew before taking them out Geoll chided himself. Geoll could recognize every member of his own crew in the darkest or noisiest of environments however, this ship was straight from the builders yard and the crew was nearly as new with the majority of them having recently graduated from the various naval colleges. That lack of experience was the very reason for Geoll wanting to accompany the four-ship squadron on this training cruise. Geoll saw it as his personnel responsibility to ensure that their training was up to a sufficient standard for them to join the fleet. Nobody had ever in their wildest dreams expected them to be flung into combat on their first cruise. None of that mattered right now for they were in a fight for their lives and they were losing.
Geoll ignored the blood that was now streaming out of his mouth and wiped debris from his tactical screen with the back of one pressure suited hand. The suit made it more difficult to punch the correct icons on the screen however, better the inconvenience than dying a grisly death if the hull was compromised and the compartment suffered explosive decompression.
The computer obediently returned the answer to Geoll’s query and he opened his mouth to shout the course corrections to the Navigator as the entire ship wrenched to starboard bouncing his head so hard of the headrest that spots filled his vision. The blaring alarm that briefly filled his ears before the faceplate of his helmet sealed shut was replaced by the high pressure hiss of his suit filling with atmosphere to keep him alive as the air of the bridge blew out into the depths of space through the massive jagged edge hole where three decks had once stood between the bridge and the ships outer hull.
Geoll closed his eyes for a moment and struggled to control his breathing. Geoll remembered his pressure-suit instructor repeating, Heavy breathing mists up the faceplate and makes it harder to see, as Geoll practiced with the suit as a cadet.
The suit has enough air to keep you alive for two hours, so take your time, gather your thoughts, and come up with a plan before you do anything, the instructor had urged.
Heeding the lessons, of long ago, Geoll steadied his breathing, opened his eyes, and surveyed the damage to the bridge.
Devastation. The word Geoll matched to the image in front of him.
Failing power intermittently lit up the bridge. Geoll saw flashes of wrecked consoles. Floating limbs. Bodies of the deceased trapped by the shock harnesses they had worn while the battle raged around them.
Geoll twisted around to see his tactical screen more clearly. Of his four-ship squadron only one was still under way. In comparison, he counted a dozen or more enemy vessels that were either coasting, powerless and streaming precious atmosphere or losing ground in the chase to catch his fleeing ships, indicating they had suffered considerable damage too.
A flash of pride ran through Geoll. His inexperienced crew had fought like demons as he had guided them toward home and safety.
Keep fighting! He had urged them, Our comrades are, even now, racing to our rescue. The rescue never appeared, instead the squadrons’ tactical screens had filled with enemy ships. Onward they plunged, home growing ever bigger in the viewers, only for the enemy small craft to swarm them, like blood-sucking insects, flitting in and out of range of his weapons; each time stabbing at him with their high-powered lasers and missiles forcing him to change course until, inevitably, the enemy’s larger units had closed with him and began their ferocious bombardment.
First, one of the squadrons’ energy shields had failed and the small craft had pounced; ripping into the hull, tearing off chunks of armor until the inevitable happened. The ship exploded with the blinding brightness of a dying star.
The second ship of his squadron suffered a similar fate and, when it looked like the two surviving squadron mates might make a last dash for home, a new type of warship had entered the fray and, before his unbelieving eyes, deployed energy shields of its own, stunning Geoll and his shipmates. The Supreme Leader had pointed to the energy shields of the Saiph cruisers as the single-most important advantage they had, and one that gave them impunity against every enemy vessel, such impunity did not exist.
Switching the display from tactical to damage control, Geoll felt a growing sense of dread as he scanned his damaged ship.
His stomach churned as he realized his ship was finished, all he could do was save as many crewmembers as possible. Entering his individual command code into the computer, he ordered it to override all the cruisers communications channels including those built into each crewman’s pressure suit.
“This is Geoll. Abandon ship! I say again. Abandon ship!” Duty done, Geoll released his restraints and immediately began to float from his seat.
Deftly using the armrest, he spun himself in the direction of a row of hatches that now had red lights blinking above them to guide the crew to them. He heard the dispassionate voice of the computer repeating the order to abandon ship.
Projected onto Geoll’s face plate in bold red lettering was the same command, on the chance that a crewmember had lost voice communications, there was no mistaking their orders. Reaching the hatch, the inbuilt biometrics recognized him and automatically opened. Grabbing a hold of the handle mounted above the hatch Geoll flipped himself through feet first and slid into the acceleration couch. He reached for the straps to secure him in place, while behind him the hatch closed automatically, and the computer started counting down.
Geoll had just secured his last strap when the acceleration pushed him back into the acceleration couch and the escape pod rocketed down the tube. A command from the on-board computer caused an explosive panel to blow on the cruiser’s outer hull, a fraction of a second before the escape pod shot past and out into open space.
Geoll flicked the cover off a switch and flipped the emergency transponder on, the little pod now transmitted its location.
Geoll lay back on the couch, the taste of blood in his mouth. He hoped for rescue.
✽✽✽
INS VENGEANCE
“Target destroyed, your Majesty.” Reported the Alonan colonel who commanded the Imperial Naval Ship Vengeance. If the presence of Emperor Lura sat in a makeshift jump seat bolted against the rear bulkhead of the bridge phased him at all he showed no sign of it though, the presence of two Saiph and their escort in matching jump seats during a battle where he was responsible for destroying one Saiph cruiser and helping turn another into something resembling Swiss cheese was - odd.
“Thank you, Colonel. Are there any indications that the bulk of the Saiph fleet is preparing to sortie from the Sphere?”
“Not at this time, your Majesty.”
Lura made a point of turning to meet the eyes of Commander Okal who met his look with an impassive look of his own. The female Saiph, Salo, who sat by his side however, was staring at the Emperor with pleading eyes. The Saiph’s escort, Captain Calan, kept his face studiously facing to the front.
Holding Okal’s eyes with his own, Lura addressed the colonel. “Please inform Admiral Lewis that we are initiating search and rescue operations.”
�
�Immediately, your Majesty.”
As the colonel passed along his orders Lura received a small nod of gratitude from Okal while Salo fiddled with her unfamiliar acceleration harness causing Okal to break eye contact with the Emperor and focus on her.
“What are you doing Salo?”
“Need I remind you Commander that I am a doctor. There may be injured that require my assistance and I can think on no one more qualified on board this ship to treat a Saiph than myself. Can you?” Salo had a reputation for being a stubborn old woman but she also was a fantastic doctor hence her original assignment to the Savior.
Okal looked across to Lura who simply waved a hand toward the bridge doors while saying. “Captain Calan, escort Doctor Salo to the medbay.”
Calan undid his own restraints with one hand while reaching across and doing the same for Salo with one hand. “If you will follow me, Doctor.”
Furtively Okal glanced around the bridge. Everywhere he looked Alonans busily went about their business even Lura’s attention was fixed on the repeater screen which projected out of the side of his chair. Ensuring no one was looking in his direction Okal activated his subcutaneous implant. “Chera?”
“I am here, Commander.” Replied the soft feminine voice of the Savior’s AI.
When Okal had insisted that he accompany Emperor Lura and the Imperial cruisers to battle the Saiph of the Supreme Leader his own ships AI, Chera, had made a very unusual and, it had seemed impossible, request of him. She wished to accompany him. Okal had laughingly asked Chera how he was expected to sneak an AI that was integrated into every single circuit aboard the Savior never mind having a central core that stood over two decks tall onto an Alonan ship without anyone noticing. In response the AI had activated a holo cube and projected into it a small device, no bigger than Okal’s thumb.