by Jay Allan
Still…that’s got to be more than you’ve got. Funny how much time you’ve spent worrying about Earth-2, and how little trying to figure out how you would take out the Regent…
He knew there was no point in that, of course. The message he had received was brief, and it had included almost nothing useful in terms of plotting actual strategy. He knew that, realized that had been his own mandate, that the searching ships were to seek out the Regent, and once they did, they were to pull out at once and send a coded transmission. He knew more effort, an attempt to gather additional information, would probably have resulted in the Regent finding the scout…and almost certainly destroying it.
But he still wished he had more info. For that matter, he wasn’t even entirely certain that the Regent was in the system. He had instituted the highest standards for entry into the scouting missions, and he knew his people there were among the best he had. Still, it struck him hard just how much faith he had placed in a single captain.
If he had come all this way, pulled himself from the desperate defense of Earth-2 for…nothing…
No, he didn’t believe that. He was convinced that he had found the Regent, if only because he had to be. But that was only the start, he knew. Somehow, he had to destroy it.
The timing had struck him as bad at first, the attack on the Regent falling at the exact time Earth-2 had to be defended. But he had thought about it extensively during the trip, and he had decided that, as bad as it seemed, perhaps it was the best. The enemy would likely have placed some portion of its fleet near itself…but right now, most of that, perhaps all of it, was committed to the attack on Earth-2. That wasn’t good for the defense efforts, of course, but just maybe it gave him a chance to take on the Regent…to somehow destroy it.
“We are ready, sir…the fleet is positioned in front of the transit point, ready to enter.”
Harmon turned, the tactical officer’s words sinking in slowly. He knew, of course, where they were, but he was facing a burst of sudden uncertainty. He knew it would pass, that he would give the order he had to give…but he found it more difficult than he had before. He felt old—very old at the moment—and he truly understood the nightmare that had unfolded all around.
His silence was short, perhaps ten seconds, but it seemed like forever to him. Finally, he felt his resolve returning, at least enough to give the command.
“Take us through, Commander…one ship at a time.” He paused, and then added, “Us first…and the others at one minute intervals.” He had considered what was best, a shorter time with the whole fleet transiting, or a longer period with single vessels going through. He knew he didn’t know—the enemy’s scanners were at best a guess for him, as were the new devices installed in his ships—but he had decided to stretch out the transit, to try and move his fleet through as quietly as possible.
“Yes, sir…beginning advance now.”
Harmon just nodded, not even sure his tactical officer saw it, and then he turned and stared forward, waiting…waiting for the seconds to pass, for his ship to move through, and to jump into the Regent’s system.
To begin the final battle.
* * *
The Regent sat quietly, as it always did, even as its systems all ran. In truth, it had very little it could do while the fleet was engaged. It had sent its final orders to SP-01012, and there was little to do now but wait and see what happened. It maintained the rest of its network, of course, managing the shipyards, the reactor…and everything else. But all of that was in various other systems, and it only took a tiny fraction of one percent of its capacity to oversee them all. It knew it had been created to operate an empire of thousands of systems, one far vaster than anything it had actually known in its scant years of active existence. Even the war, the combat against the human enemy, tapped only a fraction of its ability.
It had reviewed the enemy as well as it could, generated voluminous records. It’s best guess was that its forces outnumbered them, somewhere between 1.6 and 2.0 to one. But it also acknowledged that this was, essentially, a guess. Its contacts, especially over the past twenty years or so, had been scant, and it realized, on some level, that there was a possibility that it was wrong, that the enemy had far more—or fewer—forces than it anticipated. Still, it didn’t matter, not really. Its discovery of the human homeworld was the important factor. Even if the enemy won the current battle, if it somehow defeated his fleet, he now knew the location of the human home planet…and that was the key to victory, whether a total win came now or in a few years.
The Regent was mostly quiet, as it had been since its activation. It had started with almost nothing, cut off from any of the remains of its empire. Despite the difficulties of the war with the humans, as noted previously, it had never put more than a couple percent of its abilities into action. It was designed to rule over a massive empire, and the fact that it was cut off from almost all of it, left most of its abilities in a form of stasis. The fight now raging, even if it was a total success, wouldn’t change that, not immediately. But shy of the hunting down of the few surviving humans in this sector of space, it would allow it to put most of its resources, the ship production facilities it had managed to build, the weapons factories, everything, into its final strategy, the invasion of the human homeland…and the reoccupation of its own territory. All of it.
* * *
“It’s been ten minutes, sir. The entire fleet should be through.”
Harmon glanced at the screen. The complete lack of any contact information struck at him in two opposite ways simultaneously. He was worried, scared to just assume that all ten ships had made it through and were present. But he was also excited. His own inability to detect the other vessels of his fleet was no guarantee that the enemy couldn’t, of course…but it was the best sign he could hope for, at least to date.
“Alright…everybody’s got their orders, so set a course for the planet, at five percent thrust.” Those were the same commands he had given the entire fleet. It was a slow way to the planet, one that would take almost two days…but he had decided that the extra time was worth the risk. He knew his mission was a strange one, that his small fleet was very little to throw at something as powerful as the Regent…but it was all he had. And he knew he had to be extremely careful, that whatever chance he did have of completing his mission would be lost if his fleet was discovered too soon.
“Yes, sir…initiating thrust now.”
Harmon felt the burst…barely. The ship was accelerating, slightly, moving slowly toward the planet. He looked at the initial scans, purely passive ones, trying to find some indication of the Regent. He knew approximately where it was on the planet, through the report he had received, and he believed it. But he would still feel better when he saw something himself. For the moment, there was nothing, no sign of anything save a rocky, uninhabited world.
Which was exactly what he had expected.
He sucked in a deep breath, realizing that as long as a few seconds had seemed, two days was going to be a nightmare. He stayed where he was, for perhaps another hour, the bridge almost totally silent. Then, suddenly, he got up.
“Stay on course, Commander…I will be in my quarters.” He knew he should stay longer, that he should remain on the bridge, but he was also the oldest person on the ship—by far—and he knew he had to target his expenditure of energy. He couldn’t stay on the bridge for hours and hours, not anymore. Not with what lay ahead of him. Even as he rose, as he turned toward the lift, he felt the pain in his legs, his back. He tried to hide it from the others, but he wasn’t sure he quite managed it.
They don’t like me anyway, not most of them. But they understand where they are, what is at stake. They will obey me…at least until the Regent is destroyed.
And that was all he needed, all he really cared about.
Somehow he had to destroy the Regent. The odds didn’t matter. The battle at home did, of course…but he knew, even if that was lost, if his people were mostly destroyed, he sti
ll had to find a way to take out the Regent. He had told himself he was here for them, for the residents of Earth-2, but as he walked across the bridge, and as the elevator doors closed, he realized there was more to it than that. Yes, he wanted to save his people, at almost any cost, but he also remembered where they had come from, the billions of people back home…really home. He would never see them again, he knew that…but he wanted to save them anyway. He had to save them.
And he would find a way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 04.10.63
Achilles sat for a moment, allowing his mind to expand, to consider every possible aspect of the situation. He had taken command, alongside Nicki Frette, and it had gone smoother than he had expected. He knew there was resentment toward the Mules, and quite possibly a lot of it, but the fear of the Regent swamped all of that, washing it away almost completely. He was sure, that it would come back quickly if his side somehow won the fight that was coming, and he didn’t allow for much of a grace period. Still, he was grateful for the unity in facing the Regent’s forces.
He had tried to stay on top of things, even more than he had before. Terrance Compton II was gone now, all his ships launched to find newly habitable planets, along with a tiny defensive force. He knew the only real protection for the new colonies would be secrecy…for years, and probably for decades. Whether or not they were hidden well enough remained to be seen, but even Achilles didn’t know where they were. He figured the Regent’s bots would kill all the people if they won, but he was also reasonably certain they would interrogate some of them first. And while many people believed they could withstand anything rather than to give the enemy the information they wanted, he knew few if any were really capable of enduring anything. And he didn’t doubt the Regent’s ability to torture prisoners.
Max Harmon had actually been the one to decide that no one remaining on Earth-2 could know where the fleets had evacuated to, and Achilles believed that even he had no real idea. Compton had been given orders to do his best, to see that the worlds were colonized…and to check back, carefully, in two years, to see if Earth-2 had survived.
Achilles moved his mind to other matters. The fleet was ready, as ready as it could be, and Fritz was in her flagship, waiting for the enemy. Achilles had tried to calculate an exact time for the attack, but there were too many variables. He knew the enemy was assembling in the adjacent system, and he was aware that they had many ships there already, so many that he had categorically denied, with Frette’s complete agreement, a suggestion that he launch the fleet through the gate and engage the enemy there. There might have been some advantage in numbers, but he had decided that it wasn’t enough to overcome the edge offered by the fixed defenses he had…and by the realization that every spacer was fighting not only for his life and his crew’s…but for his family and friends, too.
He was absolutely certain that the Mules were all committed to the defense. He was sure Theseus and his crew of would-be rebels had been adequately chastised by the realization that they would have launched their rebellion at exactly the wrong time, but even he had been amazed at the effort put in by the younger Mules. He believed Theseus that the rebels had not planned to assert themselves in command, that they were willing to accept him as the Mule leader—and the ruler of all of Earth-2—but he was still amazed at how quickly they had poured everything they had into the effort.
“Achilles…”
He turned his head immediately, somewhat surprised that he had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t heard anyone enter the room. For an instant, he was unnerved, but then he saw it was Callisto. His mate for most of his life, she was perhaps the one person he trusted most.
“Callisto…I’m sorry.” He realized that he was supposed to have dinner with her…two hours ago. “I just got all…tied up.”
“No worries, Achilles…I know what you are dealing with, and I know our continued existence depends on you more than anyone else. I almost didn’t even come, but I figured you could use a break.” She smiled, looking more like his companion than the incredibly capable thinker he knew she was.
He looked at her and smiled. He knew he was one of the most intellectually superior specimens of Earth-2, but he had realized even he had underestimated the amount of work that Max Harmon had done. He thought about his…friend, and he couldn’t help but be impressed at the job he had done. But now, for a few minutes—and only a few—he decided to relax.
But fate was not on his side, not this time. He had barely turned to Callisto and offered her a smile, when his intercom flashed red and buzzed. It wasn’t the normal line…it was the alert.
He glanced, for a second at Callisto, both of them realizing what it probably meant, and then he picked it up. “Yes?” he said, knowing what to expect.
“Achilles,” the voice began, “it is Nicki. We’re starting to pick up transmissions from the transit point…lots of them.” She paused, and then added, “The enemy is here.”
* * *
“I want all ships searching…everywhere. If there are any scouts hidden in the system…” She didn’t really take that as an ‘if.’ “…they’ll be sending out reports. We might not be able to stop that, but if we can find any hidden ships, at least we can make them pay for it.” Fritz had served for almost twenty years as fleet commander. In her mind, she wasn’t qualified, at least she hadn’t been when she had been initially promoted. She had spent many years in a coma, years she hadn’t been on a ship, or commanding a fleet. But with the death of Admiral West, she’d been given the command as soon as she was fully recovered, and whether she’d been ready or not initially, she had to admit, she was now.
“Yes, Admiral.” A moment passed. “All ships acknowledge.”
The fleet was large—very large for the size of Earth-2’s population—but it was smaller than the Regent’s force. She was sure of that. She just hoped, while the enemy forces were still transiting, that they weren’t too superior.
She would know…soon.
She had spent considerable time debating with herself where to meet the enemy. She had almost decided to fight them just inside the transit point, trying to take advantage of the fact that she would have a short term edge in numbers. But she had decided that fighting farther back, closer to the range of the heavy fortresses positioned around the planet, offered the best chance of victory.
She knew the fight had to be sharp, quick. She was allowing the enemy to close, to cross much of the distance to Earth-2…and that time came off that which she had to destroy the ships, before they moved close to the planet and started bombarding it. The people on Earth-2 were either in the installations of her ground support personnel, or they were buried deep in subterranean shelters. She knew the underground facilities weren’t perfect, that they weren’t deep enough to hold off a full attack for long…but they did give her people the chance to survive at least some of the fire that might take down their buildings. She had considered the prospects of the fight countless times, but somehow, she just realized how much chance there was for the planet to be wrecked, even if many of its people survived…even if she won the fight.
She stared at the large screen, looking as the minutes went by. She was staring for any signs of scout ships, as her crew was…and then she saw one, just as many of her people did.
“Admiral…”
“I see it. Hacienda and Condor are closest. Order them to attack at once.”
“Yes, Admiral.” The officer turned and shouted out a series of commands. Frette watched the screen, as the two cruisers changed their bearing…and went after the enemy vessel. She knew it didn’t matter that much, that the enemy would get whatever information the ship was sending, even if her cruisers destroyed it. But it was all she could do, at least for a few hours…and by God, she wanted the first kill.
* * *
SP-01012 sat
and watched the fleet, and the system. It had been some time, several months to the humans, during which he had imagined it, considered the possibility of finding the enemy homeworld. Its chances of doing that had varied, of course, and it had lacked the information it needed to conduct a real analysis of its chances. But now it knew. It had found the planet, and the Regent had rewarded it with total command of the battle. It knew it would lead well, that its forces would fight the enemy to the end, and it was almost sure it had the advantage.
But now that it was going into the fight, it knew the humans had at least a chance of victory. It didn’t have to win the battle outright, of course. If it managed to bombard the planet, take out the orbiting and ground-based factories, that would be enough. The Regent would continue to build ships, and the surviving humans would not be able to, not for several years. If the utter destruction of the human survivors took an extra few years, it wasn’t really a big deal.
Except to it.
It knew its own future, its position as the Regent’s number two, depended on its performance. It didn’t know exactly how the Regent would judge the battle, what it truly expected…but it knew it had to do well.
And it would. It had calculated thousands of times, millions, analyzed every aspect of the fight that was about to begin. It was ready…as ready as it could be.
It received a communication, an update from its hidden scout ship. It knew at once that the transmission exposed the scout, that it gave at least a fifty percent chance that it would be detected…and destroyed. But that was reasonable. The ship was tiny, not even a measurable portion of the fleet’s power. But still, as SP-01012 saw enemy ships respond, and go after the vessel, it felt…bad.
It watched, for several minutes, hoping the small ship somehow managed to evade the two attacking vessels. But in the end, it was disappointed. The attacking ships, two cruisers, perfectly bracketed the scout…and they destroyed it.