Vatican Abdicator

by Mike Luoma

  The com cuts off. The red smudge on the screen disappears. The blue blips around the area where the red smudge was begin to disappear as well, blinking out in concentric circles, in disappearing ripples. The strategy screen begins to fill in the empty center with a glowing yellow globe. The ripple approaches Gold One.

  “Hey, that nullifier thing actually works,” Gold One calls in over the com. Then Gold One disappears as the expanding circles overtake the golden blip.

  Blue blips begin disappearing from the space beyond the red circle, but the Eldred ships inside the dampening field zone, the blue blips inside the red circle, simply sit still, stuck in place by the effects of the Transpace Nullifier. As the explosive wave overtakes them their blips are wiped off the screen in front of BC.

  “It’s working!” Chang says excitedly. “We’re winning!”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Chang,” BC cautions him.

  “But we just took out about two thousand of their ships!” he argues.

  “And we’ve got thousands more to face. And we don’t have another strategic base we can afford to blow up like that, either. Never mind the brave men and women who sacrificed… well, everything,” BC says somberly.

  “SAIF Four. Not much more we can do here now. We’re coming back to Ceres Central. SAIF

  Four out.”

  The green blip representing SAIF Four on the strategy screen finally disappears in a safe blink into Transpace, and the strategy screen folds up into a small glowing dot in front of BC.

  “We’re a long way from done,” BC lectures Chang. “Keep alert! The wolves will be showing up soon!”

  “The wolves? Who, Dolomay?”

  “Who else? Keep your eyes open, Chang.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Chapter Twenty

  BC paces the bridge of his command and control ship. He tried to sleep but only caught a quick catnap. He can’t really rest when he knows there are battles still raging between his people and the Eldred.

  We still have plenty of ships on reserve, a mix of fixed up old UTZ models and newer Stinger Ships. At least a couple more Transpace Nullifiers will be ready soon, according to Krish. And we wipe out a whole bunch of them just now. Maybe we are winning?

  “Chang, what’s happening with the shipyards right now? Get me a SitRep on all of our engagement arenas!” BC orders.

  A new strategy screen appears in front of BC. Swarms of light blue blips buzz around the edges of the screen. As BC watches, smaller groups break off from the swarms and fly in to attack the shipyards. Red, green, gold and silver blips intercept and blue blips disappear.

  “We’ve jumped our remaining ships from the asteroid base engagement out of harm’s way,”

  Chang reports. “Gold Two, Three, Four, and Five and SAIF Four made it out. We lost Gold One, and SAIF One, Two, Three and Five. We’re waiting for an updated assessment of battlefield results, but initial estimates of enemy losses number near twenty-five hundred,” Chang tells BC, raising an eyebrow.

  “Good start,” BC says sharply.

  “We’re still engaging the enemy at the shipyards. Judging by commanders’ battlefield reports, improvements to our shield technology and to our energy beam weaponry appear to have given our ships a distinct advantage against the Eldred ships. We’ve been able to repel their attacks and inflict heavy casualties.”

  “Good.”

  “There’s another thing the commanders are reporting, sir. Our pilots report that the Eldred lack, um, ‘imagination’ in their battle strategies, for lack of a better word. For a supposedly advanced race, their battle tactics are not that advanced, and often two-dimensional instead of three, makes them predictable, not advanced at all.”

  “How many of theirs have we destroyed at the shipyards?” BC asks.

  “At least a thousand,” Chang tells him. “Again, these are preliminary battle numbers, which tend to be inflated,” he cautions.

  All thanks to the technological ‘improvements’ we’ve reverse engineered from that ship of theirs. If we hadn’t stolen that ship, this all would have been over really quickly!

  “Any sign of Dolomay? Any unidentified ships in the area?”

  “Negative.”

  “I want you to send a patrol squad back to the area around the asteroid base to keep a watch over the place, keep a look out for him. Harass any surviving Eldred ships you might find there. Keep the battle on!”

  “Roger,” Chang acknowledges. “Sir? You’ve got an incoming call from Ceres Central. It’s Governor Capituna.”

  “Thanks!” BC says to Chang. “Anita!”

  “Hi BC. Are we winning? It’s been pretty quiet here. The Eldred didn’t stay long.”

  “No, they didn’t. They threw a lot at the asteroid base. And then they threw even more at it.”

  “Is it gone?” she asks, sounding like she really doesn’t want to hear the answer.

  “It’s gone,” BC tells her. “So are five of our ships and their crews. But the strategy worked. We took out a couple thousand of their ships, and they could hardly touch us!

  “Now they’re

  concentrating on the shipyards, but they’re not getting anywhere, we keep knocking them down when they attack. They don’t change their tactics much. We’re kind of mopping up there, I think.”

  “Gold Two from the shipyards on the line for you, Prime Rep,” Chang interrupts.

  “Well, Anita, I’ve got to go for now. Please excuse me. I’ll call you back soon.”

  “Okay, BC. Let me know what I can do to help.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Anita,” BC says, smiling.

  “Sure thing, BC,” Anita says with a smile of her own. “Ceres Central out.”

  “Okay, go Gold Two,” BC continues.

  “We’re still encountering significant numbers of Eldred ships,” the pilot reports. “They’re throwing themselves at us! It’s like they’re methodically trying to wear us down. That’s a guess, of course. They don’t seem to vary their attack. It’s the same every time… they don’t adapt! It’s just wave after wave of their ships coming down to blast at the shipyards’ assembly line. We’re kinda mowing them down, sir!”

  “Keep up, um… keep up the good work?” BC says uncertainly, unsuccessfully trying to keep the irony out of his voice.

  We may see Dolomay sooner rather than later, if this keeps up. If he doesn’t show soon, there may not be anything left of the Eldred! Well, best not to get ahead of ourselves, huh, BC? If we don’t leave him anything to shoot at, he may not show…

  “You know what, Gold? Don’t let them hit any targets… but be sure you leave some of their ships intact and functioning, okay? Disengage from direct attacks and retreat to defensive perimeter positions.”

  “Retreat, sir? Gold two requests confirmation.”

  “You heard me, Gold Two! Don’t let them hit the line, hold perimeter positions, but do not directly engage.”

  “Okay, sir,” Gold Two says. BC can hear the hesitation in the pilot’s voice.

  “It’s okay, Gold Two. I need you to trust me on this. It’s part of a bigger plan,” BC explains, feeling compelled to bolster the pilot’s reserve. “With that in mind? Keep your eyes open for Dolomay and his ships.”

  Get it?

  “Gotcha!” the pilot confirms. “Gold Two out!”

  BC feels an ache begin to build behind his temples.

  A headache?

  “Prime Representative?” Gold Two comes back on the line. “There’s something he…”

  The com signal cuts off abruptly.

  BC looks up at the strategy screen display. Gold Two’s blip is gone. A strange, dark blue smudge glows where the blip had been.

  “Chang? What’s this blue smudge here where Gold Two was?”

  “Not sure, sir. We’re having trouble getting a fix on it, that’s why it’s not clearly resolved. We can tell there’s something there, bending waves, messing with the gravity… but no fix.”

  It’s him. Gotta be
. Dolomay! How many ships does he have now?

  “Are we seeing any other anomalies like this nearby?” BC asks Chang.

  “We’re tracking about six of them.”

  “Com on,” BC says, turning on the fleetwide communicator. “Those ‘smudges’ on the strategic display are Dolomay’s ships,” BC informs Chang and the SAIF ships listening in. “Steer clear of them!

  They’re not showing themselves yet. Dolomay wants the Eldred more than he wants us. He’s been adapting tech, too, after looting worlds across the galaxy. His ships are bound to possess capabilities that either match or go beyond our own. He’s no doubt adapted alien weaponry we can’t yet imagine. We have to be ready to defend against it all the same! His ships are obviously employing some shield technology that we don’t have, and can’t yet see through. That’s why we can’t get a fix on them,” BC

  explains to the fleet.

  “So, we should just shoot the smudges!” a pilot pipes up.

  “Not yet!” BC cautions. “Don’t let them know we can see them at all just yet. Just steer clear. If they follow you, lead them towards Eldred forces. Let them get close to the Eldred. I believe Dolomay’s hatred of the Eldred will lead him to engage them as soon as they are close enough to attack. We need to watch that attack, see what Dolomay does, how his ships fight. Watch for any weaknesses. The Eldred have been an easy foe to fight, and predictable. I expect Dolomay’s forces won’t be so easy to fight, and certainly won’t be so predictable. Let him wear himself down a little against the Eldred, although… if we’ve been able to mow them down, I’m sure his forces will be able to do so as well,” BC speculates out loud.

  “For now, lay low. Watch out for Dolomay’s ships and continue minimal engagement with the Eldred attack force. Let Dolomay think we’re nearly wiped out. I don’t want him to know what our strength level really is.”

  As BC watches on the strategy screen, the SAIF forces hang back. The blue smudges representing Dolomay’s ships begin moving toward the Eldred reserve fleet, spreading out apart from each other and subtly penetrating the spaces between the thousands of light blue blips hanging en masse on the edges of the conflict. The blue smudges move deep into the midst of the Eldred undetected. Suddenly, in a coordinated effort, the six ships begin spinning, each ship firing in all directions, three hundred and sixty five degrees, each ship a bristling pin cushion of energy beams, a deadly blossom of fierce firepower.

  The Eldred ships surrounding them are ripped into shreds, their blue blips blinking out in concentric waves of death rippling out from Dolomay’s ships. Each ship is surrounded by a globe of fiery debris as they continuously fire into the surrounding Eldred, but they’re far enough apart from each other to prevent friendly fire.

  Dolomay’s ships massacre hundreds of Eldred vessels in the first minute of their orgy of destruction. The SAIF forces nearby merely hang back and watch, avoiding shrapnel and stray fire. BC calls up a visual feed from one of the SAIF ships near Dolomay’s attack. Brightly erupting flashes of light dim the stars around them in the near distance, each evidence of an exploding Eldred ship. BC can barely make out a pulsing ball of light off in the distance, Dolomay’s nearby ship. The flashing explosions threaten to blind BC, and he switches back to the tactical display. On the strategy screen Dolomay’s ships continue to deal death by the hundreds as they advance through the Eldred fleet. Suddenly, one of the blue smudges stops spinning and darts out from the midst of the carnage of the conflict and heads off on its own.

  There you are!

  I bet my life Dolomay’s on board that ship!

  “Send a squadron after that ship!” BC commands over the com. He turns to his pilot. “Chang?!”

  “Yessir!”

  “How fast can we get to the battle?”

  “You want to take the command and control ship into the battle, sir?”

  “Close to it, anyway, Chang. This isn’t a debate! How long will it take?”

  “I think we can be there in five minutes, if we go Transpace. It’s a short jump, but a little dangerous. I can do it, though, sir, or I wouldn’t try it.”

  “Do it,” BC says. He winces as pain begins throbbing behind his temples again, threatening to become a headache. He tries to fight it, but seems to be losing.

  “Are you okay, sir?”

  “Headache,” BC spits out the word. “Go!”

  Chang, chastised, turns and focuses on flying the ship. As he works, BC shifts his screen to show the ship’s exterior view. As he watches, they pull away from Ceres Central and suddenly shift into Transpace. BC’s headache eases as they jump.

  They reappear right above the shipyard’s main installation, near some SAIF ships patrolling the facility. Suddenly, BC’s headache slams back on both sides with more power than before. He brings his hands up to press in the sides of his skull, as if to keep it from splitting. Goddamn! It’s him! Somehow, Dolomay is doing this to me, I just… feel it. I know it, somehow! He can’t quite get into my head, but he can do this!

  “Chang, get us near that smudge that’s on its own… where is it now?”

  “It’s moved away from the Eldred to a vantage point near our raw material mining facilities,”

  Chang says.

  “Head for that ship, but don’t get too close,” BC manages to spit out past his pain. He grimaces.

  “Are you okay, sir? Your nose… you’re bleeding, sir!”

  So I am. So I am… bastard!

  “Chang, I’m going to try to get control of this attack. This is a mental attack by Dolomay. I’ll explain later. But give me fifteen minutes here to compose myself and maybe counter attack. I’m gonna close my eyes and see what I can do. Don’t disturb me for about fifteen minutes, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. What about after that?”

  “Wake me up, shake me, whatever you have to do,” BC instructs, “if I don’t wake up on my own.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  BC closes his eyes and begins to think of the doors he’s built inside of his mind. He sees them pulsing, bulging outward as a pounding continues on the other side. Dolomay!

  I hear you knocking… you ain’t getting in!

  He thinks of the doors growing heavy, heavier, heavier… he sees the doors settle back solid into place. The pounding subsides.

  BC feels his headache ease.

  Ha! Just needed some bigger doors… Now, let’s see…

  BC lets himself relax and the world fades to grey. The walls fall away and he floats in the middle of the still, calm silent sea.

  He “sees” a cloud of golden particles dancing in the air around a glowing red orb hanging over the water nearby. He reaches out and touches the cloud.

  And suddenly he knows he is once again seeing out through another’s eyes. The eyes of death. The eyes of Dolomay.

  Dolomay is sitting in his plush pilot’s chair on the bridge of his ship, giving orders to his gunmen.

  “Hit their engines again! He’s on that ship, I can feel it!” Dolomay says, or thinks out loud, BC

  can’t really tell the difference.

  Something on a screen in front of him catches Dolomay’s eye. “There! Target their engines! Hit them again! Don’t destroy the ship! I want him brought here, in front of me, so I can kill him myself!”

  Who… me? Does he know I’m here?

  BC feels a jolt of panic, nearly gives himself away. He calms himself quickly, tries to stay “quiet”. Gotta be careful… I’m a guest in the mind of a madman!

  IS THIS A HEADACHE?

  Dolomay wonders. He rubs his brow.

  WHAT IS THIS? SOMETHING IS NOT RIGHT!

  The ship rocks sideways.

  “What was that!” Dolomay asks angrily.

  “Just docking with the ship, D,” the first mate tells him. “Little rough, I know, sorry Big D.”

  “Just get him up here!” Dolomay shouts. He checks the sword in its sheath hanging from his belt. A human artifact, he likes the brute effectiveness of the heavy, sharpened b
lade. I RELISH THE THOUGHT OF USING THIS ANCIENT HUMAN WEAPON TO TAKE

  OFF THE HEAD OF THE ELDEST OF THE ELDRED!

  “We have him, sir,” a voice calls over the communicator. “The little fuzzy-wuzzy is on his way to you now.”

  “The ‘Eldest’ of the Eldred is it?” Dolomay says as the defiant Servant, the fuzzy blue koala bear, is brought to stand in front of him. “Most arrogant of the arrogant, more like,” Dolomay sneers. “Do you know me, Servant?”

  The Eldest of the Eldred looks at Dolomay blankly and remains mute. It is the Eldest of the Eldred! He must have been on one of the ships!

  Dolomay summons the Voice of Command.

  “SPEAK!”

  The Eldest of the Eldred twitches as if he can’t help himself, and speaks.

  “You are the last of your kind, the last living member of the race now called the Ancient Enemy. You are Dolomay.”

  “I am Dolomay. But look around you! I’m not the last! Look at all my children!” Dolomay says, looking around at the crew gathered on the bridge.

  Fiza! Asleep at the foot of Dolomay’s “throne”. Nice plush pilot’s chair. The stir of recognition nearly alerts Dolomay to BC’s presence.

  FIZA?

  WHAT?

  ARE YOU THERE AGAIN, DIM ONE?

  HIDING INSIDE MY HEAD?

  NO MATTER.

  OBSERVE ALL YOU LIKE.

  “These ‘children’ are not like you,” the Eldest of the Eldred tells Dolomay. “You are the last.”

  “You do not believe that. Or you would not be here, wiping them out.”

  “We do this because they could like you. If you were to lead them, it becomes even more likely that they would become like you, as some of these have. However… I can sense your touch heavy on many of these, Dolomay. They would not serve you willingly, would they?”

  “No matter. They serve all the same. They are easily bent to my will. They now serve me… as you once did. As is your PURPOSE! Your DESIGN!” Dolomay yells down at the Eldest of the Eldred.

  “Eldred?” Dolomay laughs. “Old servants, perhaps. Only ‘Eldred’ because you’ve been around so long!”