MotherShip

by Tony Chandler

  Rawlon nodded. “Order the retreat. And order the humans back.” Rawlon paused. “Can our fleet complete the turn and make hyperspace before the main fleets engage?”

  Curja’s hands flashed over his console, and he smiled. “Yes. Barely.”

  “Order it.” Rawlon stared back at the viewscreen filled with T’kaan ships. Under his breath, he cursed.

  Across the battle line, Kraaqi warships turned in solemn unison. Within seconds, the Hrono fleet began a similar maneuver.

  Curja approached again. “The Mewiis Admiral is calling for you.”

  Rawlon shook his head. Closing his eyes, he waved his hand to accept.

  Admiral Saris appeared onscreen. “What are you doing? We came here to fight. Too many Mewiis children-too many Mewiis worlds-have already perished waiting for this day. If we do not make a stand here, the Mewiis home world will fall next.”

  Rawlon did not answer.

  The Mewiis’ eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you run? Do you fear this enemy?”

  Rawlon shook his head tiredly. “There are too many...” He began.

  “There will always be too many!” Saris shouted.

  The Kraaqi warlord sighed. “We must replan...”

  “No. No more planning. Our fleet will stay! We will hold the left wing. We must stay with our original plan!”

  “You cannot-not against these odds,” Rawlon said. “You will be overrun within the hour.”

  “The Mewiis will not leave.” She growled. “We stand between Mewiis worlds, Mewiis children. We draw the line here. We will fight here.” Saris raised her fist at Rawlon. “Now!”

  For the first time Rawlon understood the diminutive Mewiis race. But he did not answer, feeling a sudden shame inside his warrior’s breast.

  With an angry gesture, Saris’s image disappeared.

  “Fight bravely,” Rawlon said absently. He had spoken the Kraaqi honorific given only to Kraaqi and their warrior brethren as they entered into battle.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  The shields of the last T’kaan frigate attacking her buckled and it turned away disabled, but Mother had no time to finish the job. Already the swarm of T’kaan fighters attacking her had doubled, and her shields were dropping dangerously low.

  “Kyle, form up with what’s left of Jaric’s wing. I’ll join Becky,” Mother ordered. “We are retreating with the Kraaqi fleet.”

  “This can’t be.” Kyle snarled into his viewer. But he banked his ship sharply in compliance, not knowing what else to do in the face of the combined T’kaan fleets.

  “We’re already cut off,” Jaric said with a hollowness.

  “Then we fight our way through, just like the old days,” Kyle snarled.

  Rok’s fingers squeezed the triggers and two T’kaan Scout fighters exploded in his sights. “The old days were not so good,” Rok said as he turned to fight another T’kaan.

  “MotherShip, this is Minstrel.”

  “Go ahead,” Mother said.

  “I am with the Mewiis on the left wing. T’kaan ships are bearing down on us, formation after formation. The Kraaqi fleets are turning, retreating, but the Mewiis are standing firm. They will not retreat.” Minstrel’s voice trailed off. “I am fighting the best I can alongside the Mewiis, but the T’kaan just keep coming.”

  Mother started to speak, but a dozen Hunter fighters suddenly leapt out of the darkness for her. Focusing her processing power, she brought all of her main guns to bear and fired at them as she turned hard to avoid their fire. Ships exploded under her direct hits, and the Hunter formation broke up and retreated.

  Another T’kaan formation now came into range to engage her.

  In that instant, her sensors focused on Becky’s ship. So near-and yet so far.

  Waves of T’kaan fighters closed with the Kraaqi fighters that Becky led.

  “They’re everywhere!” Becky shouted.

  The ship in Becky’s sights exploded, but even as she looked up for her Kraaqi allies, she saw more of the three horned ships diving on her. Her fighter shuddered under direct hits and suddenly the shield alarm screamed-her shields were completely down. She kicked her ship hard over and dove away from them.

  Without shields, she knew she was a sitting duck.

  “I need some help here,” Becky said with a surprising calm.

  Kyle destroyed another fighter and tried to turn to help Becky. But two more T’kaan cut him off. As he twisted away, he saw her out of the corner of his eye. He watched the three horned ships even as they fired. Helplessly, he stared at the tracers as they streaked straight for Becky’s unprotected ship.

  The universe seemed to stop.

  Jaric fired and turned, trying to find Becky’s familiar ship. But his ship suddenly shuddered under more direct hits. Jerking the controls he dove down and below the sudden hail of blaster fire. He tried to maneuver toward the dot that he knew was Becky’s ship on his sensor screen. But he couldn’t as his ship shuddered again with direct hits.

  Jaric turned his ship away as he screamed his rage.

  Mother’s sensors pinpointed Becky’s ship, and her merciless attackers. Even as she pushed her mighty engines and made them scream in protest, she was processing all possible attack vectors and deciding which would bring the most desired result-to save Becky. All her guns turned and focused on the targets attacking Becky, but they were out of her range.

  Just out of reach.

  Becky jerked her ship hard and then stared into the laser lances coming for her. Straight for her.

  “Mother!” She cried.

  Mother raced toward the sensor marker that was Becky, her engines straining past the red line. She bent every process to this one, great task-to protect her child, a job she was well equipped for, something she had done so many times. Something...

  The sensor marker that was Becky’s ship suddenly disappeared.

  Mother was confused for the second time that day and her circuits began to overheat with intense activity. She started a Level Four diagnostic on her main sensors even as her guns belched death and destroyed the three horned fighters that had been attacking Becky’s ship.

  Within seconds, the diagnostics returned, completed. They were surprisingly clean as she raced past the blossoming explosions.

  Mother quickly recalibrated her sensors and she scanned the area again. Still, she could not locate Becky’s ship.

  More alarms sounded inside her flickering, electronic soul.

  She recalibrated her sensors a third time. It only took a few seconds, yet it seemed like an eternity. She continued to strain, to search... to search in vain for her lone girl-child.

  When her recalibrations failed again, she began filtering out all ships, even Kraaqi, only searching for human configurations with her sensors. Only human ships.

  Two ships appeared.

  Mother’s processors suddenly spiked into super-activity as she calculated all possible solutions to this inexplicable problem. Alarms screamed down her darkened corridors as displays flashed with streaming mountains of data. Her processors leveled off at one hundred percent utilization.

  But the answer was obvious to her.

  “Kyle. I am damaged,” Mother said. “You must lead Becky and Jaric out.”

  But Kyle could no longer see in order to get away, not through the tears blinding his vision. And he could not answer Mother because of the lump that filled his throat.

  Over the comm link Jaric cried out loud as he pulled his triggers, destroying the T’kaan ships that still dove at him in wave after endless wave.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Rawlon was furious ; both with himself and the entire universe.

  Kraaqi warriors did not run from battle - that single thought silently haunted him.

  Here he was, Admiral of the greatest fleet ever assembled - his only order a general retreat, leaving the maternal Mewiis alone to fight the battle for him. Clenching his eyes tightly shut, he cursed himself.

 
Behind him, he heard the familiar steps of his First Officer approaching.

  Rawlon’s body jerked with shock as Curja screamed out loud just behind his head. With surprising strength, Curja slammed his fist into the console next to Rawlon’s chair which caused sparks to erupt from the damaged electronics.

  Rawlon’s eyes met Curja’s. Curja glared back with burning anger.

  “Have the humans disengaged?” Rawlon asked, suddenly feeling a strange and sickening tightness in his stomach. But somehow he didn’t want to know what Curja was going to tell him. He wanted him to leave; to order Curja to return to his station.

  But he couldn’t.

  With a flash of insight, the age-old proverb went through his mind - ‘ Even a warrior fights the bitterness of tragedy to the very end. ’

  “The humans...” Curja began.

  “Our brethren!” Rawlon shouted in anger, causing every head on the bridge to turn towards him. “Tell me of the humans-Brethren of the warriors Kraaqi.”

  Curja looked down, remembering the sacred honor that had been bestowed on the humans during the recently completed rite of Sa’DaK by Rok and the Band of the Stars.

  “I will know,” Rawlon growled ominously.

  Curja looked up with a warrior’s stoic gaze. He spoke with a sadness in his voice.

  “The human female, the one called Becky, is dead. An honored death in battle.”

  Rawlon screamed.

  He drew the curved rapier from the leather scabbard at his waist. Looking back to the viewscreen, he placed the sharpened edge to his palm...and slashed. Green blood flowed down his trembling arm as he screamed again in pain and anger. The entire bridge crew screamed their rage with him, their voices joined together in righteous anger for the lost human race.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  “Please Kyle , answer me. Perhaps my comm links are also damaged? Yes, they are damaged, too. And my sensors.” Mother felt the direct hits again and again against her shields, but somehow she no longer associated the battle with herself. Her guns fired back automatically, but her aim only managed to scatter the Scout fighters who quickly came around for another run.

  “It is strange, Kyle. My sensors can see you and Jaric, but Becky’s ship has disappeared...” Mother paused. “I cannot think clearly. I think I should contact Rawlon.”

  Even as Kyle wiped the tears to clear his vision, his shipped lurched. He screamed and banked hard-straight into the line of fire. Straight into the two attacking T’kaan fighters he dove as he fired back at them like a madman, his ship’s collision alarm echoing strangely in his ears, as if he was dreaming.

  He pressed his twin triggers over and over as continued to scream.

  A short distance away, Jaric finally shook his pursuers. He quickly remembered the explosion, and knew with a sickening dread what it meant - or thought it meant. Now Mother was reporting she was damaged and the battle had barely begun? Deep inside, Jaric felt his heart sink with despair.

  He turned his ship back to Becky’s last known position, and his sensors reported back the expanding debris field.

  His breath failed him as if he had been struck in the chest with a sledgehammer. His heart began throbbing so loudly in his ears that he imagined he had lost atmosphere inside the cockpit. Jaric swayed as his vision blurred and the universe began to fade. Suddenly, bright laser fire erupted around him once again.

  Out of instinct alone, he turned his ship and rammed the engines full open.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  “The other humans ?” Rawlon asked as he came to his senses.

  Curja turned back to his station and read the sensor data. “They are cut off,” he said in a voice drained of emotion. “They are cut off-as is the Death Squadron. More T’kaan ships are closing on them.” Curja looked up at Rawlon. “They will be overwhelmed.”

  One more time, Rawlon turned back to the viewscreen, back to where the black horned ships outnumbered the stars.

  “Get me Tarlog!” Rawlon shouted decisively.

  The visage of the Hrono appeared almost immediately.

  “Our fleet is turned and ready for the order to hyperspace,” Tarlog reported.

  Rawlon stared back at him, and then Tarlog noticed the blood flowing freely down the warrior Admiral’s arm.

  “The race known as humans, is now extinct.” Rawlon said simply.

  “All of them?” Tarlog asked.

  “The female is dead. The two males are trapped, along with the MotherShip.”

  “Trapped,” Tarlog repeated solemnly. “But even if we give them succor, their race is most certainly dead. The female was the key to any hope.”

  “They will die here, along with the noble Mewiis,” Rawlon said.

  “Unless?” Tarlog asked, somehow sensing what Rawlon was thinking.

  Rawlon smiled widely. “Our peoples have fought each other for millennia. We...are warrior races.”

  Tarlog was surprised at the unexpected accolade from his one-time enemy. They stared at each other across the black gulf and felt a new bond begin to tie their souls together.

  But the growing nemesis called T’kaan drew ever closer on their viewscreens.

  “I say we teach these... Dowlas,” Rawlon spat. “I say that we warriors teach these T’kaan what war really is,” Rawlon said through clenched teeth.

  Tarlog turned and whispered off-line to both of his aides. The silence thickened as he finally turned back to Rawlon. “We have been running some quick calculations since your order to retreat. It could well be that at the next battle, the odds may not even be this good,” he said bluntly.

  Rawlon raised his bloody fist and shook it. “We can still do what they think impossible.”

  Tarlog’s eyes widened. “Our original plan is useless.”

  “These T’kaan maggots bring many ships. They bring mighty ships! But they do not have what you and I have-what the Kraaqi and Hrono have.” Rawlon remembered Mother’s unifying speech at the recent assembly. “And what the Mewiis have.”

  “Tell me,” Tarlog said, an urgency now in his voice.

  “They do not have our heart. They do not have our courage,” Rawlon growled as he clenched his eyes shut, and then opened them. “They do not have our passion for life.”

  Tarlog waited, his adrenaline pounding and flowing throughout his body.

  “Yes,” Rawlon crooned. “We must now do something completely unexpected.”

  “Tell me,” Tarlog repeated.

  The silence seemed to shout in their ears.

  “We will attack,” Rawlon whispered savagely.

  Tarlog laughed. But he caught himself in the next second and his laughter stopped.

  Immediately, the beauty of the simple strategy materialized in both their minds.

  “They have stretched their superior numbers around our massive defensive line, to encircle and smash us.” Rawlon nodded at the viewscreen that displayed their fleets. “They expect us to run, or to go into a defensive mode. But, if I lead the Kraaqi fleet up the center, here,” Rawlon pointed and the ships on the secondary viewscreen moved in his computer simulation. “And with the Hrono fleet as my right fist, here,” Rawlon said as his voice rose with emotion. “We leave the Mewiis in their strong defensive position anchoring our left wing and keeping the T’kaan occupied there.” The fleets began to move on the viewscreen in the simulation he had just programmed, the distinctive colors of each fleet glowing as though alive. Two large sections formed tight formations and began a forward movement.

  “We would smash through their center,” Tarlog said with growing optimism. He smiled a warrior’s smile. “And then...?”

  Rawlon raised his rapier toward the T’kaan fleet. “We destroy them where we find them. As we break through to their rear positions, we turn and attack again - we will outflank them first! But both our fleets must attack using the Kraaqi phalanx in order to punch through.”

  The Hrono warlord nodded.

  “Now,” Rawlon said to both Tarlog and Curja
. “Send orders to all ships. When they hear the Music of War-we begin our attack.”

  Both warlords turned and immediately the orders were sent through their aides to every ship.

  Rawlon waited a moment, until his staff finished issuing all their commands. He smiled. “Curja. Put me through on every comm channel,” Rawlon said with confidence.

  “They are yours, my commander.”

  Rawlon waved his hand, and the T’kaan fleet reappeared on his main screen.

  They were still bearing down on them.

  “Hear me, maggots of T’kaan. The Battleships of the Kraaqi and Hrono come for you now. And we want war...” Rawlon raised his head defiantly and shook his clenched fist to the viewscreen filled with the T’kaan.

  “To...the...Death!”

  Rawlon turned as his bridge officers stood and simultaneously pulled their rapiers out and pointed them towards him in salute. Across the entire Kraaqi fleet, aboard every ship larger than a fighter, every officer stood and repeated the traditional gesture. Even on the Hrono ships of war every officer stood and raised their clenched fists or held their weapons high.

  Rawlon shouted again the age-old battle cry of his people, and Hrono voices and screams mingled together...over every comm channel.

  And the T’kaan heard. And wondered.

  “I want the ‘Music of War,’” Rawlon ordered. “I want it on every comm channel! Ready it, on my mark.” Rawlon stood before his commander’s chair and pointed at the viewscreen full of T’kaan warships. “I want them to know we’re coming,” He snarled. “I want the entire universe to know we’re coming!”

  Rawlon paused, and then he motioned at Curja.

  “Bring the battleships around!”

  As one, every battleship turned. With exact precision, the prows of every Hrono and Kraaqi battleship came around simultaneously to face the hordes of T’kaan.

  Rawlon sat back into his Captain’s chair and waited until he was sure the T’kaan sensors were aware that the combined fleets were turning. With a renewed confidence he nodded at Curja, his senior officer.