“Acknowledged, sir. Rear Admiral Kirov asks if he should save us some.”
The Admiral smiled. “Tell him he’s welcome to take a full bag. I have other game in mind.” He watched as the designated groups moved to intercept their targets. “ScanRate, monitor the group of Trojans breaking away. Negative angle fifteen, bearing sixty-five right.”
“On them, sir. They look as if they’re trying to break for the rear of task group 106.”
“Alert Admiral Hawking.”
“Acknowledged, sir. They’re on it.”
The Admiral watched the plot with a frown. The break in the enemy’s formation he was looking for simply wasn’t forthcoming. He’d hoped the assault on the Trojans would draw at least some of the Niburu screen out, making them easier to isolate and target, but the enemy had obviously learned from their previous engagements. He made his decision.
“Signal Admirals Pienaar, Chen and Dewey to launch their attack on the enemy’s right flank.” He waited for the order to be relayed and acknowledged, and watched as the designated ships changed position and adopted their attacking formations. “Very well, make to all the rest: follow the flagship. Targets in succession to starboard. I want their full attention. Deploy the primary on selected targets, but do not destroy them.”
The acknowledgments streamed in as the flagship turned. Silence descended in the Command Centre as the plot changed and the huge Niburu ships seemed to fill the dark void of space. The Admiral touched his link. “Engage your target as soon as you like, Val.”
“Yes, sir.” Captain Petrocova’s voice was calm. As the link shut down, she could be heard passing the order.
From his command chair, Harry watched the swarm of ships turn toward the enemy, and he sent a well-remembered prayer of the seafarer in danger heavenward for aid this day. Then he focussed on finding the opportunity to send his flotilla plunging into the fray, each ship already locking its weapons to its own selected target. He saw the movement of several smaller Niburu ships as they moved to support their screen engaging the fleet.
“Attention, 36th, link helms on my mark—now!” Under his breath, he added, “And may God go with us.”
Chapter 37
Return
“Sir, a message from Grand Admiral MacQuillie. He’s relayed information from Admiral Li.”
“Put it on my screen.” James Heron frowned. MacQuillie must have something vital to impart; he knew they were engaging the enemy. His frown deepened as he quickly read the message while keeping an eye on the battle plot. He stifled an exclamation of surprise, and read it again. “Well I’ll be damned.” He turned to the comms officer. “Relay this message to all Captains then get me the flotilla Commanders and the strike group OCs on voice link.”
“Yes, sir.” The communications team sprang into action. “The flotillas have launched their first strike, sir. Do you still want the OCs, or should we wait?”
“Get them online. This won’t take long.”
“Online, sir.”
The Admiral paused as the OCs reported in. “I’ve just received word, and you need to know this. Those ships are living entities. They are the Niburu, and the other creatures are nothing more than slaves controlled by the Niburu.” He stared at the display, gauging his words. “According to the information we’ve got, it is some sort of symbiosis. They are totally dependent on one another.” He paused. “Distasteful as it is, we’ve no choice. Do your duty.”
The Admiral listened to the responses and closed the link. He watched the darting symbols of the smaller craft and the images of the starships, cruisers and destroyers as they performed their deadly dance with the enemy.
“The corvettes have delivered their strike, sir. They’re pulling back to rearm.”
“Very good. Send in the minelayers and the second wave.”
Harry watched his flotilla dart through the gap in the Niburu screen, watchful for the signs of an attempt to intercept them. At his console, Danny gave orders to his team, and the only sign of his nervousness was the slight edge to his voice. On the other side, Regidur directed his weapons team with precision.
Something swept toward them then sheered away as the plasma projectors bathed it in incandescence.
“Enemy strike craft closing, sir.” The ScanRate’s voice was sharp.
“Thank you. Comms, call in our strike craft for support.”
Their selected target loomed ahead of them, growing in size and detail as they approached. On either side and below them, the rest of the flotilla hurtled toward their own targets.
“The target is turning, sir. Looks like he’s going to engage us.”
“Very well. Helm, keep him guessing.” Harry turned to Regidur. “How long before we can fire?”
“Three minutes, Leader.”
A bright flare flashed on the screen to port.
“Gawd.” The ScanRate’s voice was hushed. “I think they hit 842, sir. She’s gone.”
“Thank you.” Harry gripped the armrest tighter. He felt sick at the loss, and very alone in command. Quietly, he murmured a prayer as more flashes indicated weapons fire coming toward them. Mentally, he was counting down to the firing point.
“Missiles away, sir.”
“Acknowledged.” Another brilliant flash off to starboard lit the display.
“They got 779, sir.”
“Thank you.” Another crew gone. The Niburu ship was now filling the entire display. Harry noted the missile impacts, six in all. “Helm, I’m taking control.” To the ship he said, “Now, 847, as close as we dare, I want to go alongside this beast then round its nose. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Harry.”
“Then let us do it now, 847—as close as we can!”
There was a sharp intake of breath in the Command Centre as 847 skimmed the hideous surface accretion of her target and hurtled along the side of the beast.
As calmly as he could, Harry said to Regidur, his eyes fixed on the display, “We will swing across its bow. Use the plasma projectors to strike at everything that looks like a sensor of any description.” To himself he added, “Size is not everything. Even the humble bee is deadly to some.”
Regidur grunted his acknowledgement, and his team were already setting their weapons at the ready.
The ship followed the curve of the enemy hull, turning abruptly across the other ship’s snub-nosed bow as Regidur’s plasma projectors spit their radiant beams of energy. Great blooms of luminescence flowered ahead, beside and beneath them, but strangest of all, the huge ship seemed to recoil as if in pain. Then they were past it, and swarms of ugly strike craft converged on them.
“Now, Mr. Gunn—transit, if you please.” Harry waited as Danny checked his command sequence and gave the order, and then he added, “Make for our rendezvous with the flotilla.”
“The enemy is attempting to disengage, sir. A number of their large ships are in trouble by the look of it.”
The Admiral nodded. The number of Niburu ships on his display had definitely diminished compared to a few minutes earlier. “They appear to be abandoning their damaged ships.” He frowned as one took on the fluorescent glow of the start of transit, then failed and collided with another. The two wounded ships locked themselves in a grotesque dance as they blundered toward others. “Order task groups 104 and 225 to maintain contact and monitor this situation. All other groups, give general chase.” A slow smile spread across his face. “Let’s see how they like that.”
“General chase?” The Flag Lieutenant looked at his Admiral, and when he saw his expression, he grinned. “Aye, aye, sir.”
“Recall the corvette flotillas. We’ll need them when we close in on these brutes again.” The Admiral got out of his seat and gazed at the disabled Niburu ships. He could only imagine what was happening aboard them as they made increasingly erratic movements. Some of the smaller units were completely immobile. He frowned as he realised they had taken on a noticeably different appearance: the hulls were losing form and showing signs of
internal collapse.
“What are our losses?” the Admiral asked.
“Five of the corvettes, sir. Three frigates damaged, and the Pyotr Ustinov has damage to her hangar bays, starboard side.”
The Admiral nodded, his expression unreadable. “And we’ve a long way to go before it’s over.”
“Yes, sir, but we’ve taken out eight of their mother ships and probably twenty or so others, including the Trojans.”
“The price is still too high.” Etched into the Admiral’s memory was the image of one of the Niburu ships apparently convulsing in its death throes. He did not want to witness that again. The Flag Lieutenant’s reference to taking out their mother ship didn’t adequately describe the manner in which their ships shrivelled and imploded as they died, or the manner in which the carcass disintegrated. Even the debris broke into smaller pieces until little more than a massive dust cloud remained.
“James, well done on your skirmish. Your tactics paid off handsomely.” The Grand Admiral beamed at the hologram in the empty Fleet Council chamber. “We’ve had another session with the Siddhiche, and they’re finally confirming our suspicions. I thought they knew a hell of a lot more about these Niburu than they were letting on.”
“I’ve been wondering about that too. How did they know so much about the Niburu DNA and the effect of the virus they’ve given us?” He scratched his cheek, his eyes following the android steward as it silently cleared the conference room table where his staff had just finished their debriefing. “So what else are they hiding? Do they know anything else?”
“They do. We haven’t got the full story, and we may never get it, but it seems the Niburu are the result of their having tinkered with the genes of a creature they thought could be modified to perform a service for other races, a bit like the Provider and the Canids. There was only one problem: their new creature was smart enough to realise it could be the master of everything else.”
“Ah. So why didn’t they deal with it themselves?”
“They thought they had. Remember that planet Beagle found that looked like it was hit by a nova? That’s where the Niburu started out. When they went rogue, the Siddhiche tried to wipe them out, but in the process harmed themselves as well. The Niburu got wind of their plans and managed to hide at least some of their forces, but whatever the Siddhiche did affected both races. Now the Siddhiche need an intermediary, such as the Lycanian Provider, to interact with anyone like us or the Canids and Lacertians, and that has kept them very busy, apparently.”
“So they created the Niburu?”
“Not entirely. They certainly started the process, but it evolved in a way they didn’t expect. Whatever they did at the Niburu home world to stop them changed the Niburu into the creature we’re now dealing with: a vicious predator that uses its symbiotes to strip worlds of every living creature it can, and then accretes into itself the technology it gains. They can’t do anything to the Siddhiche, and they can’t do anything to prevent the Niburu rampaging through the galaxy.”
“So we’re effectively pawns in someone else’s game. They made the monster, and now we have to kill it for them.” The Admiral’s anger showed. “I’m damned if I like the implications of having to commit a form of genocide on someone else’s behalf.”
“We’re not very happy about it either, but now that we’ve woken the dragon, we must kill it.”
“I think my people need to know why they are being asked to do this.”
“We’ll transfer everything to you immediately. You’re right, our people do need to know what they are fighting and why we have to take these measures.”
The officers gathered in the flotilla wardroom of the Prinz were subdued. The 36th had lost 842, and her Commander Lieutenant Nils Jensen had been popular, his officers loyal and his crew one of the best. The 35th had lost 779—a new crew, on their first real engagement, but part of the Fleet family. And the 37th had lost 833. Her commanding officer was another new hand, though his crew were longstanding members of the Fleet.
Commander Polen tapped his glass. “To our absent friends. We’ll make sure their sacrifice wasn’t in vain.” He raised his glass in salute. “To our absent friends.”
“Absent friends.” The reply was a roar of defiance.
Ferghal joined Harry for coffee in the wardroom. “It touches a little close, this does.” He clasped an arm around his old friend’s shoulder. “Nils was a good Captain, but at least his target didn’t escape, either.”
“I know it, my friend, but it makes it no easier to have lost those entrusted to my command.” Harry sipped his coffee. “They will not go unavenged. I think our enemy may be more cautious at our next encounter. They cannot fail to notice the effect our new weapon has upon them or the tactics we are using to deliver it. I fear we will find them more prepared for our attacks in future.”
“I worry about that too. We will need to have a care they do not trap us with some new defence.”
Harry nodded. “You’re right. Though I hear the Siddhiche have confided something new concerning the cloaking they and the Niburu use.” He grinned. “Perhaps my first Lieutenant can discover something of this from his friends in engineering.”
Ferghal laughed. “Now that would be abusin’ my position, but I’ll save ye the trouble, Captain. We’re to receive a new device in the mornin’ that will allow us to vanish as easily as they, and to detect them when they hide as well.”
Harry stared into his coffee. “That is good news.” He met Ferghal’s gaze. “Then there will be no place they can hide.” He took a sip and savoured the taste. He had to admit, the Fleet had good coffee. “A shame it comes to this, and perhaps a greater shame they became what they are. It is little wonder the Siddhiche have been so reluctant to reveal their part in it.”
Ferghal noted the time. “Well, that’s it for me. Back to the salt mines.”
“Or the grindstone, whichever suits you best,” Harry quipped. Ferghal was still chuckling as he departed the wardroom.
Harry sank deeper into the comfortable chair, not ready to return to duty just yet. The constant patrols, the hunting of Niburu concentrations and the adrenaline-fuelled tension of the attacks were taking their toll. Nor was it all one sided. The Niburu had been actively hunting down weaker forces and leaving a trail of destruction wherever they struck. He was exhausted and knew he was not alone. Every one of his officers and every member of the flotilla’s crews was as tired as he was. He was feeling decidedly low. The flotilla had not been entirely unscathed in these last months. They’d lost two more of their number. He looked up as Kallie and Korinna joined him.
“Harry, you look terrible. Taken a dose of the virus yourself?”
He managed a weak grin, the effort almost too much. “Not that I am aware of, Korinna, but I begin to feel the same confusion they show when we give it to them.”
“Then it’s as well we’re being taken out of the line for some rest and retraining.” She sank into the seat next to him. “Personally, I could do with about a month’s sleep!”
“Likewise.” Kallie sipped his coffee. “My flotilla needs the rest, and all our ships are in need of the refit they’re to get.” He looked exhausted. “I sure could use some R and R.” He set his coffee cup on the table. “What’s Pangaea like, Harry?”
Harry let his mind wander back to his days on that planet, not all of them pleasant, but he skipped over that part. “A bit dangerous to swim or sail in the oceans, and some of the beasts are deadly, but most of the inhabitants we met were good people, and if we’re lucky, this will give us all a chance to recoup our spirits. The Fleet maintains a luxurious resort there, with a gym, spa, golf course, and a swimming pool that even has poolside bar service.”
Korinna sighed. “It sounds like heaven after these last months. I don’t know about you fellows, but I’m finding this perpetual hunt for the Niburu and then killing them very unpleasant. I have to keep reminding myself of the horrible things they’ve done, or I’d begin to feel so
rry for them.”
Harry nodded, but Kallie spoke first. “True, but you need to remember they’re not above cannibalism either. That’s effectively how they grow those enormous ships of theirs, by absorbing damaged ones and killing off the weaker members of their own race.”
“True, it is distasteful to us,” said Harry. “But consider this: when they cannot find another species to prey upon, what other means do they have to sustain themselves? They are trapped within those hulls they create. They cannot land and settle upon a planet as other species do. They were created to be the living transport for threatened species and as rescuers for species on dying worlds, but they turned predator, preying first on those they were supposed to aid, and then on every other race they encountered.” Harry frowned. “I wonder that the Siddhiche did not consider the consequences of their tampering, well-intentioned though it may have been.”
The others were silent as they pondered this, and Korinna commented, “That’s very profound, Harry. You’re probably right, though. They probably didn’t consider all the outcomes.” She shrugged. “Who does? Think of all the well-intentioned actions and ideologies throughout human history, and how some of them went catastrophically wrong.”
“This is getting far too serious for me,” said Kallie. “My brain is way too tired to comprehend all this.” He drained his cup. “About the only thing I can think about right now is floating in that resort pool with a drink in my hand!”
Chapter 38
Breeding Groud
“Harry’s on Pangaea.” Mary positively radiated her pleasure as she addressed Niamh in a holo-call. “They’ve been sent there for a month of rest while their ships are in refit. I wish I could join him though. He gets to lounge by a pool with a drink in his hand while I’m stuck here in freezing damp Ireland…”
“That’s good news my dear, and I’m sure he wishes you could be there with him. That would make it even more relaxing and restorative. The strain they’ve been under has been horrendous—at least, it certainly has for me!”
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