MotherShip

by Tony Chandler

  Rawlon stood, staring speechlessly at the burning view.

  “We t-told you we would hold it.” She bent over again, coughing up blood.

  “Yes, you have held,” Rawlon whispered with emotion.

  Saris continued to cough violently, her breathing ragged and hard.

  “I have one last order for the courageous Mewiis fleet,” Rawlon said, a deep sadness in his voice.

  The Mewiis female looked up, still coughing. “I will pass your orders to what’s left of our ships. But... my ship is even now being destroyed.”

  The image jumped, and static blocked out the signal momentarily. Seconds later it returned, the flames higher, the smoke thicker on the burning bridge.

  “Speak quickly,” Saris coughed.

  “You must pin down as many T’kaan as you can, Saris. We have found a weakness with them. We may yet win this day,” Rawlon said with renewed urgency.

  “I saw the T’kaan ships self-destruct,” Saris paused again, coughing. “I hoped it was your doing. For the children’s sake.”

  “Tell your ships to attack, Saris, in every direction. We must create confusion among the T’kaan.”

  Saris smiled through her pain. Using her left arm, she clumsily began working the console. “I send it as we speak.” The Mewiis admiral looked up as another explosion rocked her ship, sending the flames higher and sending showers of burning sparks to cover her body. She groaned with pain, and looked up through the boiling smoke now enveloping her.

  “We...” she whispered, and then paused, grimacing. “We...held.”

  The signal went dark.

  Rawlon, Curja and the bridge crew stared at the blank viewscreen for long seconds.

  “Farewell, brave warrior,” Curja said to the blank viewscreen. Standing at attention beside his station, he brought his clenched fist across his chest in Kraaqi salute.

  Rawlon smiled approvingly at Curja. Taking a deep breath, he looked slowly around at the rest of the officer’s faces aboard the bridge of the Thunderer, all now turned expectantly toward him.

  “Begin again the Music of War on my mark-for our Mewiis warriors. We attack for them and their children!”

  “The T’kaan have gathered several battle groups between us and the Great Horned ship,” Rok reported.

  “Yes,” Kyle agreed as he glanced at his sensors. “Their mission is to stop us. But ours is to break through and allow Mother to attack. All we have to do is make an opening.”

  Jaric stared at the T’kaan before them. There were at least two cruiser squadrons, maybe two dozen frigates, and well over two hundred fighters. “How many with us?”

  Rok began taking stock of his attack group, punching his console while he flew. He looked up, staring ahead at the T’kaan. “Fifty-seven fighters, all that’s left of the Hrono and Kraaqi.” He growled under his breath. “Kyle, you lead these fighters. Jaric, you take these.” Rok sent the encrypted message via his console. On every fighter, their individual assignments lit up on their screen. “We shall form a mini-phalanx. MotherShip, where shall we strike at their defensive line?”

  Mother had already been analyzing the forces before her, studying their layout, how the T’kaan ships were positioned to support each other and prevent her own breakthrough. She focused her processing power with the supplied data from her sensors, comparing it with all of her past battles with the T’kaan that day. Thirty milliseconds passed and several hundred options were presented. She filtered them with the current sensor data and reanalyzed. Two final solutions came up.

  She chose the second.

  “Rok, lead your group against this formation of frigates and fighters. This is our feint. Kyle and Jaric’s groups will turn as if to support you. Just as you begin your engagement and the T’kaan forces begin to close upon this point... we strike our main blow. Here.”

  Across every fighter, the T’kaan battle line was painted across their consoles. Rok’s feint appeared, and then the section below and left where the main strike would actually take place.

  “Rok, if you can extricate your fighters, come through behind me. Kyle and Jaric, just get me an opening, and break off. I will fly through and make my attack.”

  “Mother, there are several ships near the Great Horned ship.”

  “I will take care of them.” But Mother’s processors burned with activity, trying to access a solution. None were favorable. She could use her super-weapon once on that formation of ships. Then five long minutes would have to go by before she could strike her main target.

  She would only have time for that one shot before her shields would fail. She would try to reanalyze more solutions while she attacked. But from her present data the one shot would have to destroy it-there would not be time for a second.

  “Shall I start the Music of War now?” The acting First Officer asked.

  Rawlon turned to the young Kraaqi officer.

  “Turn it up as loud as it’ll go!”

  “Where’s the Home Fleet?” Rawlon shouted.

  Curja had just returned to his station, his wounds hastily bandaged. “No sign of them, Admiral.”

  The Kraaqi battleship lurched under more direct hits. Around the bridge, the lights dimmed, replaced by the eerie red glow of the emergency lighting. From two control stations, sparks exploded as the Kraaqi officers jumped away.

  “Get me Tarlog.”

  “The ships of the Hrono are being hammered, sir. They are taking heavy losses.” Curja looked up from his station. “The Hrono flagship’s comm systems are down. It’s engines are off-line and her shields are buckling. Tarlog cannot reply.”

  Rawlon slammed his fist down. “The T’kaan are going to stop us. We can’t break through these battleships!”

  At that moment, a bright flash appeared to the left of the T’kaan battle groups that were attacking them. Scores of ships appeared out of the familiar flash-the Hrono Home Fleet emerged unexpectedly from their hyperspace jump.

  A cheer went up from the Kraaqi around Rawlon.

  “About time,” Rawlon grumbled. He stood. “Order Admiral Trakam to smash the T’kaan battleships-use every hybrid weapon. Send orders to our fleet to swing around behind his attack.” Rawlon pointed decisively at the viewscreen. “On to the Great Horned ship!”

  Before them the red tracers of the hybrid weapons of the Home Fleet lit up the stygian blackness. Numerous T’kaan ships began exploding.

  “How many Kraaqi ships still have their use of the hybrid weapon?” Rawlon asked.

  Curja’s fingers danced over his controls. “Four battleships...and five cruisers.”

  Rawlon growled under his breath, and spoke. “It will have to be enough. Send word to the MotherShip- we attack! ”

  Rok’s fighters leapt for the frigates under a thick hail of blaster fire. Kraaqi fighters began exploding under direct hits from the heavy weapons.

  “Attack!” Rok roared into his comm.

  A cloud of T’kaan fighters approached the small formation of brave Kraaqi. The tracers from the combined blaster fire or each group streaked through the blackness, crisscrossing between them. Still in their tight phalanx formation, the deadly Kraaqi fighters closed, Rok’s fighter leading the way.

  “Now!” Mother shouted.

  Kyle and Jaric banked their groups away from Rok’s group and attacked. A blizzard of blaster fire greeted them as they kicked the rudder of their ships, trying to avoid the deadly fire. Their fighters answered as they fired simultaneously.

  Two T’kaan frigates reeled from direct hits.

  Kyle pushed his ship toward the left-most frigate and fired his last two torpedoes. Jaric followed, firing all his blasters. The frigate’s shields buckled, and the ship exploded. The other frigate, its systems off-line from the initial hits, began to drift in space.

  “Yahoo!” Jaric shouted with glee. In the next instant, he was diving his ship down hard as a hail of blaster fire pummeled his shields.

  “All fighters, break and attack in pairs. Draw their fire!
” Kyle ordered.

  Mother kicked her engines into overdrive and leapt past both Kyle and Jaric and through the small gap left by the crippled frigates.

  Even as she did it, alarms screamed inside her circuits. A cruiser sent a salvo towards her as she tried to twist out of the line of fire, but Mother took two direct hits. Her shields buckled and her primary power grid fell for the third time that day, but her backup grid did come up immediately.

  But she had no shields now.

  She shuddered violently from several direct hits as T’kaan fighters attacked. Five Hunter fighters hammered her with a deadly salvo as they raced past and now turned for another attack. Mother felt the blows penetrate her hull, she felt the damage to several internal systems. Worse, a small section of long-term memory flickered with damage. Instantly, she began copying its precious contents to another section of memory before it was lost forever.

  More direct hits struck her from behind as she tried to avoid the Hunters now in hot pursuit. She fired a volley from her main guns, destroying one and partially damaging two. The Hunters broke off their attack and turned - but in seconds they reformed for another run.

  More alarms now screamed from the latest direct hits.

  “Guardian. My starboard engine has broken loose from its moorings. It is overheating. You must push it back into place or a massive explosion will occur in ninety-five seconds - an explosion that will destroy me. I must endeavor to get shields back up while I fight off the Hunters.”

  Guardian stood, silent and obedient, his seven-foot frame moving with surprising quickness in response to Mother’s orders. He had been assisting the Fixers with repairs to the main power grid one level above the engine rooms. As he entered the starboard engine room, there were only forty-nine seconds left.

  Fixer3 was already there, trying to push the huge engine frame back into place with its minuscule form. Guardian’s sensors immediately detected the extreme temperatures emanating from the engine. As he stepped beside the smaller robot, he noted that Fixer’s hands had already melted to the overheated surface.

  With one motion, Guardian pulled the Fixer away. The little robot’s arms were stiff, unmoving; its hands had melted into a metallic blob.

  “My arms are not functioning,” Fixer reported calmly.

  “The intense heat has fused the internal circuits and destroyed your servo motors,” Mother said from the overhead speaker.

  “The engine will explode,” Fixer reported.

  “Stand back,” Guardian ordered calmly.

  Guardian placed his metallic hands against the red-hot surface. Even as he bent his huge frame and powered every internal servo motor, he felt the circuits in his hands go dead. Melted. He pushed harder, but the engine did not move.

  Suddenly the image of Becky displayed to his near-term memories. Her image had been occurring with a regular frequency this last hour. And no matter how often it happened, after he had studied the familiar visage, taking in every curve of the face, every layout of the blonde hair, he would erase it from his near-term memory, only to have the image return seconds later. The image was there again, and Guardian felt a surge of power inside his body.

  Guardian did not understand.

  But for some reason, as he bent his body this time, as he strained every joint and motor, the engine began to move.

  The circuitry inside Guardian’s arms sizzled and fused with a sickening staccato of sparks from the intense heat.

  Fixer stared at the giant robot, and sent the visual images to Mother.

  Mother focused a small portion on this incoming signal, and noted that only twenty-one seconds remained before the coming explosion.

  Like some mythological god, Guardian flexed and drove his being into the Herculean task before him. His metallic back and shoulders strained behind his outstretched arms, driving them forward-stepping forward on one leg while the other stretched back behind him, he pushed with all his metallic might. Now even more than Atlas, the mythological god of old, he held the entire universe in his grip as he pushed against the massive engine.

  Tiny drops of liquid metal raced down Guardian’s hands and across his forearms as the searing heat caused them to glow a dull and deadly red. The massive engine jerked with a sudden movement that placed it closer to its original position and the huge heat sinks that protected it. But now Guardian’s servo motors screeched and wailed as they overheated and the deadly red glow crept toward his shoulders.

  The image of Becky in his near-term memories began to blur.

  The giant robot communicated rarely. As his motors screamed and his circuits went dead one by one, Guardian sent a last, short message to Mother-his companion, his friend.

  Even with his internal circuits melting, he bent his robotic frame one last time, every ounce of processing power on two things-to push the engine back into place...and to remember Becky’s image. With his last effort, Guardian sought to achieve these two last goals-forever.

  The engine suddenly lurched into proper position and the heat sinks automatically reclamped. Immediately the red-hot surface of the huge engine began to cool. The gargantuan task was finished.

  But Guardian did not remove his melted hands. And the ruby indicators no longer gleamed in his eyes.

  Fixer remained still, his visual sensors locked on the lifeless Guardian now frozen to the engine in his last act of heroism. As the engine cooled, Guardian’s hands remained attached - permanently fixed onto its outer surface - as if a statue in memory of his sacrifice. Fixer’s optics zoomed onto the metallic face and noticed that extreme heat had changed/melted Guardian’s face ever so slightly - a single, frozen metallic tear dripped from his right eye. But more important, it seemed as if the corners of the robot’s mouth curved ever so slightly in an eternal smile of the most profound and subtle happiness.

  Mother felt another odd stirring in her circuits, and saved it for future reference. She saw the image of Guardian and knew he was now nonfunctioning. Dead? Her systems reported the engine’s cooling, and that her shields were now on-line and slowly strengthening. She quickly looked at Guardian’s last message and stored it.

  It was a single word: Becky.

  Mother drove hard and avoided another salvo from the frigates providing close support for the Great Horned ship. She destroyed the last of the Hunters as they attacked from the rear, but now she had to deal with these last escorts before her final attack. Her engines roared as she set them to full speed.

  She was almost on top of the Great Horned ship, flying just above its outer surface. Her sensors told her the frigates were holding their fire because of her close proximity. But her sensors also informed her that the frigates were closing into point-blank range-they would fire on her then.

  But Mother fired her hybrid weapon deep into the Great ship’s hull first.

  A massive hole opened. The impact of Mother’s point-blank range caused a huge layer of the ship’s hull-essentially its skin-to fold backwards in a great wave.

  Huge amounts of debris exploded from inside, along with the strange, purple fluid that no other species except the T’kaan had ever seen.

  She stretched her sensors inside the ship, even as she maneuvered away from the incoming fire from the frigates. The frigates missed her and struck the ship they were trying to protect.

  Mother began priming her weapon for one last shot, but she needed to determine a vital section in which to target in order to destroy the Great Horned ship once and for all. She only had seconds in which to search as her sensors stretched forth across the armored skin and then deep into the creature-ship’s wound.

  The answer came even though she had not been able to make a sensor lock.

  Mother began relaying the crucial data to Rawlon as her long-range sensors revealed he was even now making his final approach upon the other Great Horned ship.

  Mother’s sensors now revealed that she could enter the creature-ship via a large opening underneath the horned prow. Once inside, a deadly angle w
ould present itself toward the center of the gargantuan creature and the heart of its life signs which her sensors registered inside it. This precise angle alone would enable a single shot to destroy the ship completely, but to obtain the angle she had to be inside the armored skin of the creature so her sensors could lock onto it.

  Mother and Rawlon would have to be inside each ship before they fired in order to get an accurate lock.

  “We’ve lost the Starfire and the Firestorm,” Curja reported curtly.

  Rawlon growled angrily. But even as the word of the destruction of the two cruisers sank in, the Kraaqi Admiral began reading the message just sent from the MotherShip. His eyes narrowed at the crucial data just supplied, and his fists clenched with his iron resolve.

  The Thunderer, his flagship, reeled from another T’kaan salvo-more direct hits.

  “Shields are failing!” Curja shouted.

  On the viewscreen the Great Horned ship increased speed.

  “The T’kaan Great ship is powering its hyperdrive engines. It is preparing to retreat.” Curja turned expectantly.

  “We can’t let that happen. Order the remaining battleships and cruisers to fire on my mark. But not the Thunderer.” Rawlon began punching the controls on his console, sending specific coordinates for each ship to target on the Great Horned ship.

  “Range?” Rawlon growled.

  “Two hundred kilometers.” Curja turned. “Prime range.”

  “Fire.”

  The two other Kraaqi battleships fired along with the three remaining cruisers. The huge T’kaan ship that filled their viewscreens seemed to lurch upwards as the five holes erupted.

  “Sensors. Damage assessment,” Rawlon commanded.

  The Kraaqi officer worked the controls at his station. “There is damage.” Curja paused, still working the dials and controls. “Damage is minimal-the ship is still functioning.” He looked up from his console. “Their hyperdrive engines are off-line, but I don’t know for long. I already detect repairs being applied.”