‘We will miss you too Lollo,’ Moss replied, ‘but I suspect we shall meet again at some point in space-time! Adieu mon ami!’
‘Are we all ready?’ Jennifer asked them all.
‘We are,’ Lollo replied.’Onward, for the final time my friends!’
Jelde once again found herself part of a four-way mind concert, supporting the two Terran adults and the infant child. Rosalio was beside her, a comforting source of strength in a manner she had not known of before. Once more, they pushed against the boundaries of sub-ether space. Again, they faced a huge wall, an obstruction that was virtually impossible to cross. However this time, Jelde knew it was not impossible to cross that wall and she was not surprised when the Terrans soon found a tiny gap in the obstruction. As a group they worked at the fault in the sub-ether until, just as before, the barrier fell apart; washed away by the force of their combined mental concert.
Pinpoints of light flashed across the hull of the Karine and it became translucent, losing its apparent solidity. The flashing lights grew in intensity and began to move like a vortex. The vortex grew until it devoured the Karine and the vortex expanded in an explosion of light and energy that lasted for a fraction of a second, then disappeared. The Terran ship and its occupants were gone and the mental collaboration was at an end.
Jelde found herself feeling strangely bereft. She had briefly seen the possibilities of cooperation and family bonds, something that was previously alien to her. The cynical part of her mind, that part which was the essence of the supremely narcissistic Jelde, told her that they couldn’t have achieved it without her, thus fueling her sense of self-importance. However, another part of her mind was in complete awe of the sheer vastness of the cosmos she had just glimpsed. How could any individual consider itself to be important in such infinity? How could any individual even consider facing such infinity alone? It was clear that there was much to consider.
‘You did well Jelde…’ Rosalio interrupted her thoughts and stood before her. ‘I wasn’t sure you were up to the job, but the Terrans assured me you were, and they were correct. Perhaps there is hope for you after all...’
‘Josseline,’ Jelde said to the imposing figure of Lollo Rosalio.’My first name is Josseline…’
Rosalio tilted his head a little and looked at her appraisingly, as if for the very first time. ‘Josseline Jelde…. A very pretty name, to match a very pretty face…’
Jelde looked up into the face of the burly bearded Eco-warrior and blinked. She was taken aback. Nobody had called her pretty before. Was he blind? Could he not see her ugliness?
‘Only your soul was ugly…Your self-hate masked the real you…’ a thought entered her mind, then was gone.
Rosalio beamed down at the bemused Jelde, then turned on his heal and left the room. ‘Well, don’t just sit there Josseline Jelde,’ he boomed back at her. ‘There is much work to be done, and time is short!’
Without really knowing why, Jelde uncurled herself from the couch in the corner of her chamber, stood up, and followed the Eco-warrior leader with a new sense of self worth.
‘You let them get away…’ Starweb member 3789/29 declared, with undisguised contempt and frustration.
‘We did.. It was necessary,’ the soft female voice that represented the Starweb collective replied. ‘The future of the collective is reliant up the success of those seed-ships. That may seem strange to your undisciplined mind, however it is true nether-the-less.’
‘Only through penance can they seek redemption.’ Starweb member 3789/29 intoned once more. ‘They have not yet paid their penance, so they can not seek redemption.’
‘There will be other opportunities to seek redemption from those particular individuals…’ the soft voice of the collective replied reasonably. ‘Until then, you may seek penance from all the other souls on Samarcia. Channel your anger in that direction Brother Dakol. At least for the time-being.’
Starweb member 3789/29 felt the voice of the collective depart, leaving it to consider what was said. There were many souls that needed to be saved on Samarcia; many souls indeed. Only through penance could those many souls seek redemption….
Starweb member 3789/29 felt anticipation as it turned its attention towards completing unfinished work upon the planet’s surface.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Three World Defence Force Terran Command centre.
14.03hrs, Universal Standard Time. August 19th 2057
Josh Brabazon entered the situation room and blearily peered at the large holographic status screen mounted on the far wall. Unable to focus, he rubbed his gritty eyes and blinked several times. His head felt thick and he had trouble concentrating his thoughts, which was hardly surprising considering the lack of sleep he'd undergone in the past few days. Day and night meant nothing in the artificial world of the underground bunker and his body clock was all out of sync.
Reluctantly, he searched for the pills in his pocket and popped one into his mouth. The 'upper' would help him stay alert during the crisis, but he knew he would suffer for it later. Eventually his body would take the abuse no more and he would collapse; hopefully when it was all over.
Fleet Admiral Chenekov looked up as he entered and took her unlit Havana cigar out of her mouth. 'Over here Brabazon!' the thickset Ukrainian bellowed. 'It looks like your box of tricks has worked after all!'
Brabazon shook his head once more and walked over to the admiral. The amphetamine was beginning to kick in, so that he was feeling at least half-alert by the time he asked, 'What's going on Admiral? Has the fleet made contact?'
'Look for yourself,' Chenekov answered, pointing at the holographic display with the end of her cigar. 'The fleet's scouts have made contact with the forward elements of the Starweb fleet. We're receiving their position via your sub-ether transmitters.'
Brabazon looked once more at the status board and noted the indicators representing the TWDF fleet approaching a vast mass which could only be the Starweb fleet. He blinked at the sheer scale of the invasion force and asked with a dry throat,
'Were our estimates of the size of the Starweb fleet near the mark?'
'No,' was the blunt reply.
'Bigger or smaller?'
'Bigger…much, much bigger…'
'Oh God… What happens now?'
'Now our fleet engages and we pray my friend,' Chenekov answered in a subdued tone. 'All we can do for now is…pray.'
Fleet Admiral Donahue stood in the centre of the war room and looked at the holographic display, which covered most of the deck. Updated with the latest information from the small scout-ships, it gave a stark overview of their position in relation to the Starweb fleet. She strolled round the gallery, which surrounded the holographic display and allowed her to view their status from any angle; not that the problem looked any better from the other-side.
Donahue knew the entire combined fleet was waiting for her to make a decision as to whether to engage the Starweb now or later. She was painfully aware of the eyes of everyone boring into her back. Combat controllers stood at their posts, ready to snap orders into their headsets and trying to appear professionally relaxed. These controllers were in turn ready to pass on her orders to the flight and sector controllers who in turn, would co-ordinate the myriads of fighters, destroyers and dreadnoughts. And it would all happen the moment she gave the order. The responsibility was terrifying…
She examined the shape and size of the Starweb fleet once more, looking for a weakness, some flaw that could be exploited, but found none. It was all she could do to comprehend the sheer scale of their foe, let alone issue a decisive order. The approaching ships of the 'Guardians of God,' were so numerous they literally filled the entire sphere of the holographic projector. The individual markers, which represented single ships, were so many they merged into a single growing mass of red light that pulsed and moved like a living thing intent upon devouring the much smaller human fleet. Anybody who went out their way to attack such a swarm must be mad or de
sperate.
Donahue wasn't sure if they were entirely mad, but they were desperate. Staring hard into the heart of the holographic projection, she realised that there was really no decision to be made. The Starweb fleet would arrive in the home star systems of the three human worlds in a matter of hours. Once there, they would kill every man, woman and child until the human species was finally extinct. The only thing between genocide and the survival of the race was their small fleet. Therefore, they had no option but to engage their would-be executioners; regardless of their chance of survival.
Taking a deep breath, she motioned to the senior combat officer. He moved to her side immediately and leant forward to hear the small admiral's words as she gave the order, 'Tell the main body of the fleet to maintain this distance from the Starweb. Then initiate pincer movement three-seven.'
'Three-seven Ma'am?' the combat officer repeated.
'Three-seven,' Donahue confirmed grimly.
The Flyship accelerated rapidly at six 'G' along the launch-tube then shot away from the hull of the Terran flagship “Invincible”. Group Captain Fitzpatrick did his best to ignore the disorientating multi-coloured light show of sub-ether space and rely on what his sensors told him. It wasn't easy, the flashing lights and constantly changing gas clouds of the dimension completely swamped the normal senses. Without the aid of the interactive flight system the task would be impossible. Despite the hours and hours spent training in the flight simulators, God alone knew how the human pilots would perform against the computerised enemy. They were however, about to find out.
'Invincible, this is Lancer one,' he called the dreadnought's flight controller. 'Launch successful. Intercept course set for the Starweb flank as per battle plan three-seven.'
'Confirmed Lancer One. The rest of Lancer wing has been successfully launched,' came the response but with the addition, 'Good luck and good hunting Lance One.'
'Thanks Invincible, God knows we need all the luck we can get!' Fitzpatrick replied dryly. 'Lance one to Lance wing, format on my position and accelerate to intercept velocity.'
The Squadrons of Flyships and Snubfighters created a conical formation around their leader and accelerated toward the still unsuspecting Starweb fleet. Moving more slowly, but still faster than the rest of the human fleet, a flotilla of destroyers and heavily armoured cruisers changed course and accelerated toward the Guardians of God.
Admiral Donahue watched the progress on the combat projector and whispered a small prayer. The day of reckoning had finally arrived.
From a distance, the mass of vessels looked like a swarm of approaching insects; small black flecks standing out against the constantly changing colours of the sub-ether. At first, it was impossible to distinguish the individual ships so that the swarm appeared as one constantly shifting, living creature. It was only as Fitzpatrick and his wing of fighters swam up through the layers of the sub-ether, that the flecks became recognisable as dreadnoughts, cruisers and destroyers. And inevitably, floating in and about the fleet, were the tireless escort of Webfighters; thousands of them.
For a moment, the sheer scale of the odds against them almost overwhelmed Fitzpatrick. His stomach knotted, bile rose up his throat and he felt an almost overwhelming urge to turn his Flyship around and flee from the hordes of the Starweb.
But he didn't, nor did any of the other pilots. After all, where was there to go? The mission may be suicidal, but if they failed, then they'd soon all be dead anyway. And it was with that thought uppermost that he concentrated on the information passing through his nervous system via the Flyship's sensors. There was one small glimmer of hope—surprise.
Both passive and active long range scanners and early warning devices, which worked fine in normal space, were virtually useless in the sub-ether. Which was why the human fleet was relying heavily upon its growing number of operants and telepaths, who could 'perceive' sub-ether space.
Hence, Fitzpatrick and his wing were able to able to strike virtually without warning against the furthest flank of the Starweb swarm. As the adrenaline kicked in and the blood surged through his veins, the Group Captain almost believed that human cunning was a substitute for massed firepower.
Half rolling his Flyship and pulling through, he screamed toward the dark composite hull of a Starweb dreadnought and strafed it with laser cannons before loosing a Thor missile. His two wingmen also loosed their missiles then pulled away before the impact. Using his fighter's sensors Fitzpatrick watched as the trio of missiles bored through the outer armoured hull before exploding with a flash against the inner skin. Flaming gas and debris poured out of the resultant rupture and the human pilot smiled malevolently when he realised the spinning flecks were crustacean drones being sucked into the sub-ether.
The three Flyships were gone and looking for another target before the first retaliatory laser-fire erupted about them. However, it was already too late for the first dreadnought. Mortally crippled, it began to fall away from the formation like a flaming torch.
'One down, only several thousand to go folks,' he called out to the rest of the wing. 'Choose your targets carefully, but don't forget the game plan. And keep an eye out for the Webfighters!'
'Lancer One, Spike Two…the Webfighters are already on their way. My sensors register a whole swarm of them heading straight for us!'
'Roger that Spike Two. Stinger Squadron and Janus Squadron hold them off long enough to do our job. The rest of you hit 'em fast then cut-tail!'
Fitzpatrick lined up on another dreadnought and locked on with his last Thor missile. This time however, the element of surprise had gone and the sub-ether was swamped by scything beam weapons and chain-guns. Swallowing hard, the Terran veteran continued his curve of approach, but kicked on the Flyship's aerodynamic field. This field of energy created a boundary layer about the small fighter giving it the ability to fly through a planet's atmosphere like a normal aircraft.
Back on Earth, Josh Brabazon and his 'think-tank’ team had modified the harmonics of the field to take into account one of the peculiarities of the sub-ether. Now Fitzpatrick was about to discover if the theory held out in practice.
Inevitably, one of the dreadnoughts heavy beams struck the tiny Flyship blinding him with its intensity until the reactolite canopy darkened. In normal space, a beam of such power would've sliced through the composite fighter like a knife through butter. But this wasn't normal space; it was the sub-ether with its own unique laws of physics. The modified aerodynamic field glowed and pulsed, creating a brief fluorescent halo about the Flyship. The sub-ether crackled and giant sparks briefly arced away from the extremities of the ship before the ghostly effect faded and died.
With the power of the beam dispersed into the depths of the sub-ether, the Flyship carried on with its attack, slightly scorched, but otherwise intact. Fitzpatrick couldn't believe his good fortune, the scam had actually worked!
'Smokin!' he called out in glee. 'Kick on your fields everybody! The damn things actually work!'
'Lancer one this is Invincible,' the Terran dreadnought's combat officer called him, 'Can you confirm that the modified aerodynamic field disperses the energy of beam weapons into the sub-ether?'
'Roger that,' the Group Captain acknowledged firmly, 'I've just been struck by primary armament, but apart from a few scorch marks, I'm still flying! All that energy was bounced straight off me!'
'That still leaves their chain-guns and other projectile weapons,' Spike two chipped in.
'Maybe, but the bastards 'ave got a lot less of them. This at least gives us a sodding chance!'
'Thanks for telling us Lancer one,' Invincible's controller said, 'that's the best news we've had in a very long time… All TWDF vessels, this is combat control; switch on your modified aerodynamic fields. Our Flyships confirm that they will dissipate the energy of beam weapons into the sub-ether! I repeat, all vessels are to initiate their modified aerodynamic fields!'
Fitzpatrick returned his attention to the dreadnought, which filled the
canopy. Sure that the missile would bore home, he fired and peeled away at the last moment. His two wingmen were still with him and released the last of their Thor's, but Lancer three was hit by the explosive projectiles of a hull mounted chain-gun. The depleted uranium shells were unaffected by the effects of the improvised shields and tore through the Flyship's composite structure. The unfortunate pilot didn't even have time to cry out as the artificial singularities collapsed in a flash of energy.
He could only curse and swear at the loss of his wingman; he would feel the pain and shed tears later—if there was a later. She'd been a close friend and a lover at one time. If he managed to survive the next few minutes and hours, he would drown his sorrows. Now he despised the 'Guardians of God' more than ever; which was why he chose to turn on the hordes of Webfighters tearing through his squadrons, rather than cut and run.
'Lancer one, this is the light-cruiser Sheffield,' a new voice entered his mind. 'We count eleven; I repeat eleven, dreadnoughts breaking away from the main fleet. Keep drawing them towards us and we'll do the rest!'
'We'll do our best Sheffield,' Fitzpatrick acknowledged then blasted an unwary Webfighter with his chain-gun. The machine's port winglet disintegrated closely followed by the rest of the fighter.
From the relative safety of the Invincible’s command centre, Fleet Admiral Donahue anxiously watched the progress of the battle on the holographic projector. At first, the chances of success appeared to be virtually nil, but the news that the improvised energy shields actually worked, brought a new ray of hope. The odds were still hopelessly stacked against them, but any chance was better than none at all. She silently thanked the genius of Josh Brabazon.
She focused her attention once more on the indicators showing a small formation of Starweb dreadnoughts breaking away from the main formation and pursuing the squadron of destroyers and light-cruisers which had appeared on their flank. Flitting in and around the much larger ships were Flyships, Snubfighters and Webfighters wildly dog-fighting, battling for supremacy. It was a chaotic battle for survival, but Donahue never lost track of the overall strategy. She was Fleet Admiral because her heightened sense of awareness allowed her to perceive patterns when others saw nothing but random motion.
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