Crusade of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  Yes…it had to take whatever steps it could. The enemy was already very close to it—too close, in fact—and they would get closer every moment it waited. Its own actions might destroy it as well as them, and it continued to calculate, to determine if there was any other solution.

  But there wasn’t, and it was coming to realize this. It had to take a terrible chance, possibly to destroy itself…but just maybe to survive, to endure while it destroyed the human invaders.

  * * *

  Leigh walked right behind Harmon. She had to control her step, to walk at the same speed as her commander, and not to pass him. Harmon was making all the effort he possibly could, but his fatigue and wounds were having an effect on him, and despite his greatest efforts, his pace had slowed.

  She had many thoughts, some of them counter to each other, but she couldn’t argue that Harmon wasn’t trying his best. Whatever she had thought of him before, his personal courage was more than she’d ever imagined. She still questioned some of his prior actions, but then she wondered what she would have done if she’d been in his shoes. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been that far off.

  She had come to suspect that they were, indeed, close to the Regent. On one hand, it seemed almost impossible, but on the other, she recognized the facts that pointed to it. The enemy forces were small, and they seemed cobbled together. Why would they have been thrown into the fight, if not to defend the Regent?

  She still couldn’t believe the luck they’d experienced, both her vessel against the four enemy ships, and then in arriving just in time to save Harmon’s expedition. It seemed strange, almost as though it was supposed to happen. Leigh had never given much thought to religion or other strange circumstances, and she wasn’t ready to change yet. But it was definitely strange how things had gone.

  She gripped her rifle tightly, though there were no other bots apparent. They were walking down a wide hall, coming up on a door. She felt strange as they approached it, and she realized Harmon did too. He stopped and turned around…just as the ground shook hard, and rocks started falling all around.

  For an instant, she didn’t know what was happening, but then she realized. A bomb had gone off, somewhere behind them. It wasn’t one of theirs, she was almost sure of that, and that meant it was one of the Regent’s.

  She held her balance for a second, but then she fell over, feeling pain as chunks of the ceiling fell on her. Her mind told her the bomb wasn’t close enough, not to kill all of them. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one closer…one that could explode any second.

  She turned slowly, feeling the pain of at least a dozen serious new bruises, and possibly a broken rib. She ignored it all, the best she could. There wasn’t time, not now. She realized, without any real doubt, that they were in fact close to the Regent, that it was trying its best to destroy them. She guessed that it was attempting to do so as far from itself as possible. The explosion was a nuke, she was sure of it, and she wondered how badly it had damaged their exit route…and how many of the groups of wounded it had killed.

  She pushed back on the fear she felt, realizing that the distance of the explosion likely meant they were close to the Regent. If true, the threat they represented was real, very real.

  She had convinced herself before that they were close, that they might actually succeed, but now, she was close. Very close. She was sure of it.

  She bent down, leaning over Harmon, concerned for an instant that he had been hurt again, or worse. But he turned just before she reached out, and he grabbed her arm, used it to hoist himself up. She could see blood on his shirt—fresh blood—and she realized at least one of his wounds was bleeding again. She almost said something, but she held back. She knew there was little chance of any of them escaping, that victory now was defined only as the destruction of the Regent. That would be enough of a miracle, and she would consider her own death a reasonable price to pay.

  She helped Harmon up to his feet, and she watched as he looked out over the column. There were three people down, lying motionless, looking very much like they were dead. Leigh almost moved toward them, to check, but she stopped herself. If they weren’t dead, they were badly hurt…and that meant the same thing. They were all likely to die, and anyone who was badly hurt, who couldn’t move on their own, was as good as dead. She knew that, as well as she understood anything, but she barely managed to hold back, to ignore them.

  “C’mon…we’re almost there. I can feel it!” She heard many things in Harmon’s voice. She knew he was full of it, that any “feelings” were just conjecture…and maybe hope. But she felt the same, precisely the same, and she was ready to obey. The closer they got to the Regent, the more trouble it would have with its explosives, and if it destroyed itself, it only saved them the effort.

  She let go of Harmon, not entirely sure that he could stand on his own…but he did, somehow. And then he turned, and without another word, he marched onward, toward what they both hoped was the Regent.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Bunker Under Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)

  Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two

  Earth Two Date 04.12.63

  Achilles stumbled a bit, the stress and tension getting even to him, but he straightened up and walked into the control room looking something closer to fresh. It was bullshit, totally, and he suspected most of his confidantes knew it—and Acantha most of all, as she had seen him on the way back—but he did it anyway.

  “Status?” He snapped out the command, somewhat edgy, but also aware that if anything significant had happened, they would have contacted him.

  “The surface bombardment has ceased, sir. There are still a few ships fighting…but it appears our side has won.” The word “won” was stated with considerable hesitation. There was no way to consider the outcome a victory…save by comparing the result to total destruction. Themistocles looked down at his board, clearly struggling to say something else.

  “What is it, Themistocles?” Achilles knew it had to be bad…and it was.

  “Admiral Frette…she is…dead.”

  Achilles was well-known for his control, his ability to take bad news with no reaction. But he was exhausted, and far from his peak. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility—hell, the probability—that Frette would die in the battle. But now, it just hit him hard. “How?” he eventually managed to reply.

  “She crashed her ship into an enemy vessel. She got everyone still alive off of it, and she rammed the enemy ship.”

  Achilles felt like he was being pulled in two directions. He was sad over her loss, and with it the terrible casualties the fleet had taken…but he knew Frette, and he was aware that the prospect of this battle was the only thing that kept her going. It was perhaps better, in a way at least, that she died in the fight, rather than lived to see nothing but a long and miserable recovery at best…and at worst, destruction just pushed a couple years ahead.

  “What about the shelters…what is the status of the people?” By people, he meant Regs, of course, those he had looked down on in his youth, but now had come to care about. They might not be the equals of his Mules, but they were strong and capable…something he was sure of now, as he looked around at his staff.

  “They’re…okay.” A pause, and then, “The radiation is bad in many areas. Not too many clear cut lethal doses, not yet at least, but assuming the ships do prevail, and no more bombs come down, we’re going to have a major job on our hands getting treatment to those who need it.”

  “How about our shelter? Do we have any…problems?”

  “Nothing as bad…some radiation, but nothing we can’t take.”

  “That’s good, at least.” He sat in his chair, his thoughts flipping between the few remaining people in the fleet, and the million and a half tucked into the shelters. He knew enough to realize there would be fatalities, and possibly a lot of them. But if the enemy attack was truly stopped, if his people had managed to win the fight…at least
there would be time. Not that he knew what to do with it.

  Or possibly…

  He just thought, imagined that Harmon had succeeded, that his crazy, desperate plan had actually worked. It seemed impossible…but he knew it wasn’t. Unlikely, perhaps, but not impossible. And it was the one way he could think of that would result in true victory, in the survival of his people. There were worlds, refineries, ship construction facilities, and these would all still be there, even if the Regent was destroyed. But Achilles knew enough about his opponent—at least he thought he did—to assume that there would be no follow up procedure, nothing to take the place of the commanding AI. The enemy locations might fight, but they couldn’t cooperate, or at least Achilles didn’t think they could. He knew his own civilization needed to rebuild, almost from scratch, but if Harmon somehow managed to take out the Regent…they just might have a chance.

  * * *

  SP-01012 watched the battle, in the closest thing it could manage to shocked amazement. It had just decided that its forces would win the battle, at least its ships out in the main fight…and then the survivors could reinforce his ships attacking the planet. The losses were worse than it had expected, even in its worst case, but it realized none of that mattered. Earth-2’s ship construction facilities were destroyed. All of its production, of every kind was in ruins. As long as it was stripped of its fleet, it would be helpless, even if it took a couple years to build another wave of ships to begin prowling around, seeking the last bits of humanity hiding out here. Then, the Regent could begin preparing for the huge fight that lay ahead, when the transit point back to humanity’s origin sector opened again.

  But now, more enemy ships had arrived. Not a lot, 20, but they were all in perfect condition. SP-01012 calculated and recalculated the battle…and it had decided it was now likely to lose. It couldn’t detect the exact situation at Earth-2, couldn’t decide if it was winning there…but it didn’t look good that no ships had emerged from orbit. There had been plenty of time to eradicate the humans, and while he knew that all of their above ground buildings had been destroyed, he didn’t know if the fleet’s bombardments had penetrated low enough to flush out the people hiding there.

  And he hadn’t heard from the forces again…despite the fact that he had expressly ordered them to stay in touch. That wasn’t good.

  SP-01012 analyzed the situation, and all his calculations came up with the same result. Defeat. But not total defeat. The human forces were almost obliterated, as were his own, and their ability to construct replacements were all destroyed. It would take many years, five at least, and more likely ten, before the humans could launch another ship, and in far less than that, there would be another fleet dispatched to obliterate them. If it also had to destroy a partially built shipyard, well that was no problem. Without a fleet, the humans were as good as dead.

  And SP-01012 calculated a seventy-seven percent chance the Regent would maintain its position as the commanding presence. It hadn’t succeeded, not totally, but it hadn’t failed entirely either…and it definitely had the most experience of any of the Regent’s subordinates.

  Assuming it survived, of course. And to do that, it had to leave, to abandon the remnants of its fleet. The ships still surviving were all close to the enemy…they had no hope of survival. But SP-01012 had positioned itself in a small cruiser, close to the transit point. It was at a complete stop, and it would take some time to accelerate out of the system, but it would be gone long before any of the defenders could reach it…even if there were any ships in the condition to do so.

  Yes, it had to depart, to take its chances with the Regent. It had the entire trip home to figure out how to present its case, to explain what had happened. But now, it had to…

  What was that?

  Its attention was diverted, taken up by activity at the transit point. Something was coming in. It had considered leaving a small force behind, but it hadn’t known of any humans that might come…and it had decided to move all its ships through the gate.

  But now it watched, and it saw two ships, small, not particularly powerful, but moving in quickly, on a course almost directly toward its position.

  They were enemy ships.

  * * *

  “That is an enemy ship…here in Earth-2’s system.” Gosnard’s voice was gritty, steely. The trip from Linshire had been quiet, most of the occupants of his two ships just trying to adapt to the loss of their home, of most of their friends and family. But now he saw the enemy, and a moment later, he realized there was fighting going on deeper in the system. The enemy hadn’t just come to Linshire…now they were attacking Earth-2 itself.

  “Yes, it is…and it’s almost at a halt. If we change our vector slightly, about eight degrees, we can catch them, before they can accelerate.” Til spoke angrily, more bitter even than Gosnard. It was unclear at first exactly what was happening at Earth-2, but Gosnard and Til were both beginning to realize there was a fight going on, one that would go to the very end. From the look of things, one that was almost there.

  He thought about it, tried to decide whether to focus on the sole enemy ship that was close, or to proceed in-system, to join up with the human forces. But he knew that his two ships were of poor quality, that they wouldn’t make much difference against real enemy warships. But if they closed on the single vessel right in front of them, sitting still, not even moving…just maybe.

  Maybe he could take it out.

  “All weapons…arm. The other ship, too.” He knew that his two vessels were manned by amateurs, that few of them had any real experience…but he also realized they had to do what they could. And the more he thought about the single ship, back so far from the others, the more he began to believe it was a leader, or something of the like.

  Perhaps he could actually help his people, take out a commander…perhaps even the leader.

  “Yes, sir!” Til, at least, was in total agreement with him. And his number two, his oldest friend, was sitting at the gunnery station.

  “Bring us around…on a course directly toward the enemy ship!” His voice was determined, and he could tell that his crew, at least those on the bridge, were all with him. There wasn’t a sound, none except orders, and the soft noise the instruments made…but he knew they all agreed.

  “Yes, sir!” Tilman was acting like he had spent a career as a spacer, and not as a farmer. His friend had been happy, more or less, in his role back then, even as he had been restless. But the invasion, the fighting, and ultimately, the escape, had turned him into something else. He was still an amateur, but now he looked like a veteran…at least what Gosnard thought was a veteran.

  Gosnard sat still, feeling the pull of the engines on him as they blasted at full power, redirecting his ships to a full on assault. He stared, straight at the display, watching, waiting for the moment when his weapons were in range.

  The enemy vessel was reacting, blasting its engines at what appeared to be full thrust, but it would take them a while to build up speed…and that was Gosnard’s chance.

  “Stay on them…adjust course as needed. And engage evasive maneuvers.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He felt the ship begin to move, most of its thrust still forward, but some of it firing in random bursts, shaking the ship, doing all he could to prevent the enemy from hitting it. Gosnard knew that the enemy vessel would be doing the same, that he could very well lose the fight, especially if he allowed too much time to pass, let it get its speed up to a reasonable level.

  He stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the display, on the enemy ship now moving—slowly—and shaking itself, trying to evade any incoming fire. He was in range now, but he held back. Even with his speed advantage, with the edge he had for a while, he didn’t want to waste his efforts on long distance shots. “Hold your fire,” he said, just to make sure.

  The enemy vessel, however, opened up, firing its own guns at long range. The initial shots missed, but they filled him with fear. The enemy ship was a li
ght cruiser, which meant it was fast. Its speed was still slow, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. And if it scored a hit, or more than one, his chances would quickly evaporate. The enemy guns were much larger than anything he possessed.

  Still, he stayed quiet, looking as calm as possible. He knew his civilians were doing their best, but he was also aware that they could lose their control, at any time. He realized most of them had lost family members, either in the enemy attacks, or in the actions that followed…and if one of them started to lose it, he was sure it would spread.

  He saw the enemy shots, most of them missing by a decent amount, but one coming within a few hundred meters of the other ship. That was unnerving, very close to a hit, and he realized that either of his ships could be disabled, even by a single shot, if it was good enough.

  That wasn’t true of the enemy. The ship wasn’t that large, but neither were his guns. A single hit could do a lot of damage, perhaps give his force the edge…but it wouldn’t end it. He guessed it would take three hits, and perhaps four, to damage the enemy ship enough to give him the victory.

  That was only his best guess, however, and he realized it was just that. A guess. But one thing was for sure. His ships were getting closer, much closer. It was time.

  He turned toward Til’s station and exchanged glances with his friend. Then he said, calmly, quietly, “Fire.”

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Inside the Regent’s Fortification

  Alpha-Omega 12 III

  Earth Two Date 04.12.63