by Nick Webb
“Is that possible?” said Granger.
Everyone was silent. Rayna Scott clearly wasn’t sure. Wiggum shrugged. Shin-Wentworth shook his head. “No idea, dearies. It’s speculation at this point, and we have exactly twenty-six minutes to go from theory to practice.”
Another beep on Granger’s console alerted him to another incoming hail request.
It was one of the Findiri ships.
“Goddammit, Talus, not now,” he muttered. He glanced over at the comms officer. “Put him through.”
The viewscreen adjusted to add the third transmission. And Granger did a double take when the image appeared. “Captain Tim Granger,” the being said.
“Do I know you?”
“My name is Varus. I am an adjutant, commanding this ship as well as a collection of sub-adjutants and their ships. I have also served as second in command to Talus.”
“Oh,” said Granger, not quite knowing what to say. “I take it Talus doesn’t know you’re talking to me.”
“He does not.”
“I understand.”
They’re very much alive. And they’ve changed. In a far more profound way than anyone, including Talus, could have predicted.
“It seems we have a much larger problem than our earlier troubles,” said Granger.
“Indeed. I have been listening in on your conversation. And the answer is, yes. It is possible. To couple the singularity shields of multiple ships together and form a singularity large enough to shield the entire planet. But possible does not mean easy.”
“Okay,” said Granger, not quite believing what he was hearing. “I’m getting the feeling that there’s a catch.”
“The catch is, my ship is not capable of being the nexus of such a web of q-fields. But the flagship is.”
“And Talus is on the flagship, of course, with Findiri loyal to him.”
“Correct. Though I cannot at present ascertain the loyalty of every individual Findiri solder. All I know is, all of us, to the last individual, was just changed. Either restored to something lost, or elevated to something greater. Regardless, we all have the impulses to both defeat the Swarm and preserve Earth written into our bones.”
“So how do we get the flagship?” said Granger, fearing the likely answer.
“With any speed? By force.”
“Thought so.” He took a deep breath and considered his options. “Can you arrange for a strike force to commandeer the vessel?”
“Yes. Getting there will be a challenge, but once on board we will prevail.”
“I’ll provide a fighter escort. The very best. They’ll ensure your safe boarding. Shin-Wentworth?” he looked down at the bottom left on the screen, “I want you there to direct the formation of the singularity-generating web. And I’m coming too.”
“Sir!” said Swift from behind him. “You can’t do that—”
“I can,” said Granger, standing up and heading to the exit. “Talus and I have unfinished business.”
Before the doors closed behind him, one of the officers yelled. “Sir! Reading a new ship that just q-jumped in!”
The viewscreen shifted to accommodate a new image. The three open channels tiled over to the left half of the screen, and the right side showed the Earth below, Paradiso far above, and in between, choosing just the worst possible time to finally make their appearance, was the newcomer.
“The Swarm,” said Granger. “It’s this. They came back for this.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Poincaré Sector
World IXF-459
Low Orbit
The feeling was glorious. Decker hadn’t felt such rapture since he’d first become one with the Valarisi several days prior, and this transcended it. The reason?
Their moment had come.
The presence of the hostile Swarm ship had spurred the rapid manufacture of thousands, tens of thousands of new sentinel robots, with likely hundreds of thousands more on the way.
The Swarm ship had disappeared, which now meant it was time for the next phase of the plan.
They were so close.
“Scan the debris field. Find us a disabled robot sentinel that is still partly functional,” he said. He didn’t even need to direct the order. The relevant human would know what to do.
“Found one. Just off our starboard bow.”
Decker stood up, glanced at the monitor where the human was showing him the image of the broken-down robot, and calmly left the tiny bridge, stepped down the flight of stairs, and found the airlock. With a few commands, he had it open, and sealed himself inside.
Would he even need a vacuum suit?
No. The host of the Valarisi inside him would be able to heal the damage almost as it happened. And with that decision made, he broke the seal on the outer airlock door and held on tight as the air rushed out.
He gasped for breath, out of habit.
But then he let go, permitting the air to explode out of his lungs. There was pain and discomfort at the lack of oxygen, and his eyes turned red from the capillaries breaking, but otherwise all was well.
He scanned the debris field, looking for the familiar half-destroyed robot that the human had shown him on the screen, and, finding it, braced himself against the open airlock door . . .
And jumped.
His aim was perfect. How could it not be, with a million beings inside him perfecting every thought, every muscle trigger, every nerve impulse, every last axon firing in his brain.
He soared through open space, getting closer, closer to the robot, whose insides were exposed to the vacuum.
He grabbed it, and his body collided with the jagged metal hull, scraping his legs in the process. Hardly able to see at this point from the blood filling his eyes, he had to navigate inside the robot mostly by touch, his hands searching for the one thing he needed for the mission to succeed.
And there it was. His hand grasped a hydraulic line linking the central control center with the motors on the weapons turrets. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a jagged edge of the metal hull. That will do, he/they thought, and he sliced his hand across it, drawing thick blood that pooled up into little spheres on the broken skin. Then he yanked on the hydraulic line, getting enough slack that let him cut it with the same broken edge of hull.
And, bleeding hand pressed tight against bleeding hydraulic line, he brought new life to his people. Would they ever be the same? Was this just a rebirth? A renaissance? Or was this the dawn of an entirely new people?
Time would tell.
The Valarisi matter in his veins flowed out, into the hydraulic line, and soon integrated itself into the circuitry and processors.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Sol Sector
Earth
Findiri Flagship
The plan, such as it was, would have gone off far more smoothly had the Swarm ship not immediately opened fire on every ship within firing range. Findiri, IDF, Vestige fleet—it didn’t discriminate. But it did seem to focus much of its fire on the Findiri flagship.
Granger, in a shuttle, watched the battle unfold. “Zivic, watch that crossfire coming off the Swarm ship. Between that and the Findiri fighters still on Talus’s side, you’re flying in between a rock and a hard place.”
His handheld speaker blared with the cockpit sounds of battle. “Easiest thing I’ve done all week, Captain,” replied Zivic.
He grunted a laugh. “Good to hear, Ballsy.”
A brief silence on the other end. “Batshit. You mean Batshit.”
Dammit. “So I did. Your father would be proud, kid. Go get it done. Granger out.”
He flipped the channel over to Varus and his landing party. “Okay, my fighter squadron is clearing the way. Make your move, Adjutant. I’ll join you shortly.
“Acknowledged, Granger,” replied the Findiri.
He flipped the channel again. “Shin-Wentworth? Status?”
“Just behind you, sir.”
“Good.”
Out the viewport he
watched Zivic and his squadron make quick work of the fighters Talus had sent out, and soon Varus’s dropships were docked and the boarding parties had entered.
“Our turn,” he said, nodding at the old veteran marines in the rear of the shuttle. Grangerites and Vestige members all. They nodded back.
The pilot docked, and one of the marines engaged the emergency airlock seal and cut a hole into the enemy hull. Soon they were pouring through the hole and into a battle zone. The intense crossfire from opposing Findiri soldiers lit up the hallway, and Granger began to second guess the entire strategy. Would there be enough time? He glanced at the countdown on his handheld.
Nine minutes left.
Thankfully, Varus’s soldiers proved to be efficient at their jobs, or the opposing side had retreated to a fallback position. Either way, he appeared at the hallway across from the hole they’d cut in the wall and waved them forward to follow him. When he entered the hallway, he saw Shin-Wentworth approach from another cut hole in the wall, following a squad of marines from the Volz.
Several more smaller battles erupted at various junctures and intersections, and each time, after a brief but intense crossfire, it would end, and Granger began to notice that each time, it was because Varus himself had rushed forward and yelled something he couldn’t hear at the opposing force, causing them to cease firing.
Before long, they were at the bridge.
A loud explosion rumbled through the deckplate and the entire hallway shook. Varus looked down at the holoscreen on his wrist. “The Swarm is overcoming our defenses. We are running out of time.”
Granger pointed to the door to the bridge. “Then let’s do this.”
Varus blasted it open with his energy weapon and he and his soldiers rushed inside. Granger followed, noticing that Shin-Wentworth had finally caught up to him and was on his heel.
“Adjutant? What are you doing here?” said Talus. “We’re under attack by the Swarm, and you’re firing on our own warriors. Explain yourself.” As he finished, his eyes flicked up and saw Granger there, and he looked confused.
Varus pulled his energy weapon from his belt and aimed it.
Talus looked at him, his eyes darting from the weapon up to Varus’s eyes, and back to the weapon.
“What do you think you’re doing, Adjutant?” His tone was level, but Granger could feel the fear and uncertainty behind it.
“What I should have done long ago, when you presented yourself to us with grand plans of galactic domination. That was never our purpose. Our purpose was to defeat the Swarm and save Earth. Not rule it. Not take revenge against our creator for his mistakes.”
“But—”
“Silence. One more word and I’ll blast your head off and end your miserable existence. And then I’ll erase your file from the Corporeal Chambers and you will never, ever live again to plague our existence.”
“But—”
“I told you not another word, Director,” he said. “I’m nothing but a man—yes, a man—of my word.”
He pressed the trigger and the purple beam lanced out, blasting a hole right in the middle of Talus’s face. His body slumped to the floor.
Granger glanced at his handheld.
Nine minutes.
“We’ve got no time. Hurry!” he yelled, stepping over the body and waving Shin-Wentworth over to a terminal.
Varus looked at one of the tactical consoles, then pointed at the Findiri soldier posted there. “You, how long has this been our status?”
“The Swarm just knocked out our engines, Adjutant. We’ve been falling for over two minutes.”
Varus waved some video feeds over to the screen on the wall, and indeed, the Earth’s surface was rushing up at them, the super-compressed air of the atmosphere blazing past white-hot.
Granger checked their position. Eighty kilometers above Missouri, and falling fast. “Can you maneuver us towards Nashville?” he said to Varus. “Thrusters? Anything. Just get us to this location, however you can.” He tapped on a spot on the console’s map a hundred kilometers west of Nashville.
Varus nodded. “Consider it done.” He motioned at what must have been the helmsman and barked some orders at him.
Granger had already joined Shin-Wentworth at another console monitor. “And? Is the singularity shield still online?”
“Looks like it, if I’m understanding Findiri console layout correctly. But looks like there might be a problem.”
“Can you solve it in eight minutes or less?”
“It’s the q-field couplers. Normally lets you couple into the background q-field to enhance your emitter strength. In our case they’ll let us couple to the other ships and form the net. But theirs are offline. Usually, at least on an IDF ship, they fault easily, and its only a matter of manually resetting them. But that’s the rub—manual resets require being there, and I have no idea—”
“Nubo! And you and you, escort him to the auxiliary engineering bay, now!” yelled Varus, overhearing their conversation.
The three indicated Findiri stood at attention, and one of them said, “Yes, Director.”
Ah, so he’s got a promotion now, thought Granger as he watched the three leave, Shin-Wentworth in tow. “Have you signaled to the Findiri ships that are allied to you to stand by? Are they in position?”
Varus nodded. “They are.”
Granger glanced at his handheld. Six minutes. He looked at the screen and saw Paradiso bearing down on Earth, now just a few thousand kilometers away. It loomed huge in the sky over Missouri.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Sol Sector
Earth
Findiri Flagship
Commander Zivic had just returned from taking Captain Granger over to the Vestige ship and was heading back up to the bridge when he got the call. It was Granger, again. He and his squad were needed for another critical mission. This time not just protecting Granger, and not only the murderer Shin-Wentworth, but also several Findiri dropships. The turns of events of the day were making his head spin.
Revenge would have to wait. Again. He gathered his squad and before long they were hightailing it out of the Volz’s fighter bay and entering the fray. Apparently there was civil division and strife within the Findiri fleet and he needed to stop the bad ones from killing the less bad ones so that the less bad ones had time to kill the worst ones. Got it.
“Watch your six, Ace,” he yelled. He flipped his bird around and pummeled her tail with a few rounds before veering off at an angle and slagging a Findiri fighter trailing Barbie.
There were a lot of them, but not nearly as many as underneath the crust of Chantana Three, and this time he had his squad with him.
Though the incoming fire from the Swarm ship wasn’t helping matters. Thankfully, most of its attention was focused on the Findiri flagship, but occasionally a beam would lance across his path. Barbie already lost the end of a wing to an ill-timed crossfire blast.
“Don’t worry! It’s just the tip!” he’d yelled.
“Sounds like what I told your mom last night,” said Spectrum.
Ethan grunted a small laugh—it sounded a lot like a joke he would have made, weeks ago.
But that was gone now. All that was left was a hollow feeling inside.
And determination. There were wrongs that needed to be righted.
Before long the Findiri dropships and Granger’s shuttle had docked with the flagship. “Thanks a billion, Batshit. Now go make yourself useful. Granger out.”
His squad had turned around, aiming to go back to the Volz’s shuttle bay.
He continued forward, aiming for another bay. This one on the Findiri flagship.
“Ethan? What’s going on?” said Ace.
“I’ve got some business to attend too. Get back to the Ballsy. I’ll be right behind.”
“I don’t like the sound of—”
“Just go!” he yelled.
He watched his scope as his squad made it to the relative safety of the Volz. Before him loomed the
Findiri fighter bay. With the flick of his thumb he laid down a few hundred rounds of suppressive fire, targeting anything in the bay that moved, and in the midst of the destruction he brought his bird in for a hard landing.
The hatch lowered, and he sprang forward after risking a glance out into the ruined bay to see if anything was alive. Nothing was.
He dashed out of the bay and into the hallway outside, which was deserted. He supposed all the soldiers were off stopping the landing party. Pulling out his handheld, he entered a command code for the ISS Volz and queried the location of Commander Shin-Wentworth. A schematic map of the Findiri ship appeared in holo form above the handheld, indicating that he was just three decks up, looking to be on his way to some kind of engineering center of the ship, as most of the power, cooling, and hydraulic conduits passed through it as if it were a nexus.
Three sets of stairs later, he paused outside of the room marked Auxiliary Engineering Support.
He took a deep breath and kicked the door in, pointing his sidearm straight ahead.
Two Findiri soldiers standing guard swung their energy weapons around and yelled for him to stop.
“Wait!” yelled Shin-Wentworth. “He’s with me! Commander, I need your help! We’re out of time, and we need to reset every single one of these q-field couplers, now!”
Zivic’s hand, the one holding the gun, shook. He squeezed it tight, then relaxed, then squeezed. It would be so, fucking, simple. Just pull the fucking trigger. Just do it, Batshit. Do it. Do it. DO IT!
For her.
“How many are there?”
“I’m nearly half done, but we’ve got two minutes.” Shin-Wentworth was opening conduit panels, flipping breakers, and resetting them, one after another, frantically. There was an entire line of them, perhaps forty, and he was less than halfway there.
He dropped the gun and dashed toward the opposite end, and started working toward the middle.