The fleet moved, boosting in under full power, avoiding the parts of the machine that could still fire. It tried to turn those sections to engage, but the damage had cut its maximum boost in half, and it was a lumbering wreck while the human ships were swift beasts of prey. The Machine escorts tried to get in the way, and died for their efforts. The fifty-one wormholes in close proximity started sending out their streams of missiles, over fifteen hundred of them coming in every thirty seconds, another wave following at that interval. Every ship with standard missile tubes fired everything they had, while lasers and particle beams lanced out at a target they could not miss.
Massive explosions erupted over that surface, multiple strikes burning through the armor and hull. Entire streams of missiles went into the hole made by the Darts, driving in and deepening the penetrations. The planet killer turned, trying to strike back, and in most cases failing. Here and there a ship came into the firing arc of an intact mega-laser and paid the price. A heavy cruiser converted to plasma as a laser turned its bulk into spreading vapor, blown out again by breaching antimatter. A couple of destroyers followed suit, then a battleship.
Bednarczyk cringed each time one of her ships fell off the plot, knowing that it had died. In some cases she saw the actual kill, which left no doubt that there would be no survivors. Her ship was not out of danger, she shared the risk, since she needed every vessel she had to kill this thing while she could.
Another huge secondary explosion erupted from one of the large holes, the sign that something vital had been hit. More hits, more damage than a hundred battleships could absorb, and the planet killer was still in the fight.
“We’re getting near the end of the ready preaccelerated missiles,” said the tactical chief. “We’re down to two more reloads.”
“What about shipboard weapons?”
“We’re down at least by half.”
“Then keep firing what we have. Until we have no more.”
The tactical chief shook her head but turned and gave the orders.
She would adjust her orders when they ran out of missiles. If they reached that point, she would probably order the fleet to retire for the moment until all of the preacceleration tubes were loaded with ready weapons. But she was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
The next group of preaccelerated missiles went in, fifteen hundred of them, along with a couple of thousand of the slower ship launched weapons that were still causing damage. A battle cruiser and three light cruisers disappeared, destroyed with all hands. Beata, watching the carnage, just stiffened her resolve. If she had to do this again the losses would be even heavier. She had no more of the special Darts, and she didn’t know for sure how fast the damned thing could affect repairs. So she needed to kill it, now. Blindingly bright explosions rippled across the surface, or came blasting back out through the breaches in the hull. The planet killer staggered, but didn’t die.
“Here goes the last wave,” called out the chief tactical officer. Moment later the last fifteen hundred wormhole launched missiles were away. Thirty seconds later they hit, again sending flares of antimatter fire across the surface, again striking deep into the machine. Beata watched with dejection as that last barrage played itself out, sure that now she would have to retire and come back to finish it.
That was when one last bright flash erupted from within the battle station. The hull around that breach buckled and exploded out, followed by more. Something big had breached inside the planet killer. And moments later something else exploded, and one of the untouched areas of the hull bulged out for several seconds, then shattered in the center, sending a great blast of plasma out into space. Seconds later there was another, then another, then finally a titanic blast that blew off a third of the Machine, the huge mass breaking apart as it flew away, until it consisted of thousands of large pieces surrounded by billions of smaller.
“Hit it there,” she ordered, pointing as the huge opening that looked like an enormous fruit baller had been used to scoop out a third of its mass. “With everything we have.”
The fleet responded, boosting into position, launching every missile they still carried, firing beam weapons into the interior wreckage. The center section turned into a glowing molten mass under the barrage. Whatever antimatter was still in there and had not breached, finally did. The still huge bulk of the of the planet killer blew apart, a couple of very large pieces in the billions of tons range, hundreds of smaller, millions of tiny. Most of the Machine escort ships were hit, and most of those destroyed, the others taking major damage. The Imperial ships all maneuvered to get out of the way of the larger pieces, firing every weapon they still had at the smaller bits that were still a danger. Very few got through. Some did, and a couple of dozen ships took minor damage as pieces of solid matter hit their hulls. It was minor damage unless one happened to be in an outer section of a ship that was struck, the hull breached and the crewman killed, or blown out into space. Most of those could be recovered, since their armor protected them from the vacuum and temperatures of space.
“We beat it,” said the surprised chief tactical officer.
“You waged a good fight, Captain,” said Beata, walking over to the woman and clapping her on the shoulder.
“I don’t know if I would have if you hadn’t issued so many orders, ma’am.”
“We were both just doing our jobs,” said the smiling admiral. “You come up with the possibilities, I decide which one to take. We make a good team.” The admiral turned away and looked back at the plot. “So, what else do we need to do to clean up this mess.”
“They still have active ships, ma’am. Though none near enough for us to worry about.”
“And the Gorgansha force is still at one hundred percent, isn’t it?”
“Near enough,” said the commander. “I estimate ninety-four percent.”
“Then give my compliments to the fleet leader, and sic him on the largest extant Machine force.”
* * *
“They, destroyed it, my Lord.”
Fleet Leader Soranka Goran gave an eye blink of acknowledgment. It had seemed impossible when he had first seen it. It outmassed the entire alliance fleet by a factor of ten, and had a massive weapons loadout. And somehow the humans had still destroyed it.
Tactical genius, thought the fleet leader, gaining even more respect for the human leader, though she was a mere female. I doubt I could have destroyed it, even with their ships and weapons.
It was just too massive, too huge, and its weapons were too destructive. It had taken the humans time, and they had lost ships, but they had persevered in a situation that would have sent most Gorgansha leaders fleeing it terror. They had persevered, they had come up with something unexpected, and they had taken it apart. There were still Machines in the system, and the fleet leader was almost sorry he had not contributed more to the victory, and gained the respect of these humans who had given them so much.
“Message coming in from the humans, my Lord. They say they are out of missiles, and would like us to take out the last large Machine force.”
“Tell the humans we would be happy too. As soon as we can engage we will.”
The fleet leader walked over to the human installed holo tank and looked over the system. There were several Machine forces still on it, but only one of any size, smaller than his own force, with probably half the mass. That force was blinking, leaving the fleet leader no doubt which target the human admiral intended for him to hit. And that force seemed to be concentrating on another human force, this one of about twenty ships that was engaging from range.
“Lock on all tubes and fire on that force,” ordered the fleet leader.
“How many volleys, my Lord?” asked his tactical chief.
The fleet leader looked at the plot for a moment, taking in all of the enemy forces. He knew the humans would be in the process of bringing new ship launched weapons across their wormholes, and that the wormhole accelerator tubes back at their huge station, the Do
nut they called it, though the meaning escaped the Gorgansha, would be spinning up new weapons, ready to use within the hour.
“Fire everything we have,” he told his tactical chief. “I want to make sure we get all of them. While our allies are watching.”
Chapter Thirteen
When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home. Tecumseh
The last transmission that had come in from system Alpha, the first of the stars the Machines had established themselves around, had told of disaster. The humans had come in with a large fleet and destroyed all industrial facilities in the system. Not a Machine ship had escaped. That was not unexpected, though it set the battle plan against the humans back, maybe months, possibly years. It still calculated that it would defeat the enemy. It wasn’t sure how much credence it could give those conclusions, since it didn’t have complete data on the enemy. And without complete data any conclusions were suspect.
It was thinking of the enemy ship it had captured, one of their smaller vessels. They had captured the secret of hyper VII, technology necessary to defeat the organics in a battle of maneuver between the stars. They had not been able to slag the machinery prior to being overwhelmed on their ship. But the damnable creatures had destroyed their memory cores, taken them out with hand weapons, particle beams burning deep into the crystal cores that contained almost the sum knowledge of their empire. It had been able to recover a small amount of information, stored at the edges of some few of the memory crystals. It needed more. It needed to capture a complete set of data crystals from a human ship. But they were loath to let any of its units take them intact.
A signal came in, indicating an important event, and the central AI zeroed in on one of the space docks where a new vessel was leaving to enter service. A battleship, slightly smaller than the human variety, though close enough in firepower since it didn’t have to carry quarters and life support. With oversized hyper arrays as compared to most other Machine ships, it was obviously made for transiting the higher dimension. It was the first of many of capital ships of a new class.
The decision had been between whether to continue cranking out hyper VI vessels, which was still the majority of the human fleet. Or concentrate on building more of the new hyper VII ships. Along with that decision had come the strategy of only deploying them in limited numbers, while building up a strike force to attack the humans when they had sufficient numbers for them to actually make a difference. It had started out by converting numbers of already existent ships. That was a losing proposition in the long run, since it would weaken it overall fleet in the process. Still, it needed those ships, and had lost most of what it had converted in the battle for that lost system. Still, things were about to change.
By the end of the week there would be a dozen more of the hyper VII ships, all battleships. Other vessels were being laid down, cruisers and destroyers. In a month it would have over a hundred of the ships, and the new supermetal production facilities built on cold moons around minor stars would be putting out the needed materials to build thousands of ships. The Machines needed to keep the humans busy, keep them diverted from looking in all the places they might discover hidden facilities. The humans were good at that, too good. If the central AI had to sacrifice all of its systems to position itself for success in the final battle, it would do so.
* * *
The system was dead, as far as they could tell, though there might still be some nanites around. In fact, if she had to bet on it, Beata would think it a sure thing. The Device, as they were calling it, would now be brought in, and the system sterilized, and this one struck from the ledger of Machine industrial systems.
“Where next, ma’am?” asked Captain Lyndsey Quan, the chief tactical officer who had done such a fantastic job in this battle.
“I think we will be splitting the fleet up for the next operation,” said Bednarczyk, looking at the plot, which had been reconfigured to give an overview of the entire region. “We know the Machines have assets at these stars, but our intelligence indicates that they aren’t major industrial systems.”
Which meant they might only have one supermetal production planet, a couple of thousand antimatter sats, and some few shipyards in their asteroid belts. And maybe a hundred warships as a system defense fleet. Probably less, but there would be no telling until the Imperial fleet poked its nose in the systems.
“I think we will send Admiral Alverez and his force to this system,” she said, highlighting the indicated star, thirty light years from where they currently were. She highlighted another star. “Admiral Halliday can go here. And Admiral Hahn can occupy himself, here.”
“What about Admiral Montgomery?”
“She can continue her mission. She’s the best I have at scouting, and the best use for her to continue sweeping and looking. She has enough force to handle a system like these, and she can send for help if needed.”
Beata sat back in her seat, thinking about her deployments, satisfied that she had done the best she could with what she had. Very soon all of the known industrial systems of the Machines would have received a visit from her forces. With luck all would be destroyed, just awaiting the arrival of the Device to clear them out. With that thought she ordered the holo to give her a look at that machine, moving in under tow toward the star.
* * *
The supreme dictator looked at the holo that showed the riot going on in the central square of one of his continental capitals. Slaves surged against barricades, swinging makeshift weapons at the Gorgansha who stood on the other side, trying to get at their masters, their tormentors. As he watched one large slave of a species used for porters and diggers hit a Gorgansha policeman with a heavy work implement, knocking the Gorgansha’s helmet for his head and delivering a large wound to his skull. Other police opened up with their service weapons, sending magrail rounds at high velocity through the body of the slave and into scores of others.
What a waste, thought the angry dictator. Those slaves were worth the wealth of the realm. Their labors were what made this society great, and not just the ones who had been killed, but the others, who had stepped away from their work for this foolish revolt.
It had to have been the humans, he thought, with their foolish ideas about equality between species. As if these base creatures could ever compete with mine in the areas of the mind. It was a growing problem, and one his people would have to deal with sooner or later.
“Get me the male in charge of the police,” he said to the com, looking into the face of that worthy moments later. “I want you to destroy all of those slaves. This revolt must end, before any of the other slaves get ideas.”
“Yes, my Lord. But the owners will not like it. Those beings are valuable.”
“I will deal with the owners, you idiot. You just follow my orders, if you want to you’re your skin on your body.”
The male worked fast, as did most who were in fear of their lives in crossing the dictator. Moments later the holo of the riot showed slaves of many species being mowed down like ripe grain, the hypervelocity rounds of the magrail weapons going from one end of the square to the other. In less than a minute it was over, and there were no living slaves in the square, only the police stepping over their bodies, using pistols to make sure any that weren’t surely dead were.
Gonoras looked at the time on the antique clock on the wall of his office. He liked the time piece, which had fascinated him from the time he was a child, having survived among all of his brothers to rise to his current position. It was time for sleep. He knew he would wake to complaints about the slaves he had ordered killed tonight. He would have two possible responses. Threats to their safety, or payment. He would decide which depending on how he felt in the morning. He thought how good it was to be the male on top as his servants prepared him f
or bed.
* * *
Beata had to admit that it really was an ungainly looking beast of a device. Massing more than a super battleship, twenty-one million tons, it was really a hodgepodge construction. The mass was misleading, since it didn’t carry the armor and weapons of a superbattleship. It had a well insulated skin over a series of massive girders, and enormous grabber units forward and aft on the elongated diamond structure. Inside were double the matter/antimatter reactors of a superbattleship, all running into millions of tons of high supermetal content superconducting cables. The cables were arrayed in a projecting configuration, able to produce the most intense magnetic field ever produced by humankind.
“It cost enough,” Beata said to her lead engineer, Captain Hishry Tamamurta.
“But we can use it over and over,” said the officer. “It will be worth the initial investment.”
Beata grunted in acknowledgment. If it did the job it was built for, and there was no guarantee of that, was there? It had cost over four times the resources in supermetals as the capital ship she was comparing it to, though those materials could be recovered if it was a failure. And the Bureau of Ships and Docks would still be eternally pissed at her for taking those resources that would have yielded at least three of the new super heavy battleships.
Well, they can be pissed, if this works, thought the admiral. If it didn’t? Then she might be a laughing stock in the fleet for quite some time. Not that I care, she thought, not sure if she really believed that.
“Are we ready?”
“On your command, ma’am.”
“Then, let’s do this.”
The captain smiled, then turned to the special control board that had been installed in the flag bridge. There was no one aboard the device, which had been transported here in the hyperfields of a quartet of capital ships. It was considered too hazardous to put people that close to a star they were about to fiddle with. If fiddle was a term that fit what they were about to do to its fusion processes. There was a wormhole aboard, shielded in a very powerful magnetic dampening field, which transmitted the signals from her ship to its operating system.
Exodus: Machine War: Book 4: Retribution Page 17