‘Yes,’ Kenelm said. ‘Because to sabotage our flight at the right time and place, you’d have to know there was going to be a Signal to intercept.’
‘More than that,’ Yirella said, looking directly at Tilliana and hoping there was no guilt showing. ‘The Signal is irrelevant – especially to us.’
‘What?’ Tilliana spluttered.
‘It contains the Olyix enclave coordinates, right?’
‘Yes,’ Cinrea said.
‘Well, we already know the location, so we don’t need to investigate the Signal’s origin. QED, it’s irrelevant.’
‘All right,’ Kenelm said. ‘I’ll reserve judgement on that for now. What else do we know about the Signal?’
‘The K-class star it originates from is seventeen lightyears away,’ Cinrea said. ‘As soon as we detected it, I sent the Urquy and Konvo an AU out from the main fleet to give us a decent baseline measurement. Analysis revealed the transmitter is a massive spherical array; we estimate its diameter at ten thousand kilometres. So its broadcast is omnidirectional. They’re beaming it out across the whole galaxy. Its strength is phenomenal – strong enough to reach the fringe of the galactic core from here.’
‘How are they powering that?’
Cinrea smiled. The screen at the end of the table came on, showing a fuzzy image of a star with a halo of smaller stars. ‘That’s the best visual image we could manage with our current sensor array. We estimate there are at least four thousand solarwell MDH chambers in operation.’
‘Human technology,’ Wim said happily.
‘Pre-invasion human technology,’ Cinrea corrected. ‘We haven’t used solarwells since the exodus started.’
‘They’re quick and easy,’ Yirella said. ‘Exactly what you’d need to power a continuous Signal. You don’t need elegance here. The Olyix know their ambush ships were beaten at that star, and what we’d do when we found their enclave location. They’ll be heading back there right now from their sensor station, probably with a whole fleet of Resolution ships. Which means you’d need to get the Signal out fast. It’s how I’d do it.’
‘What about the Signal itself?’ Kenelm asked.
‘Short, but broadcast in one hundred human languages. Its message is very simple. The location of the Olyix enclave, triangulated by pulsar, and a warning.’
‘Which is?’ Dellian asked quickly.
Cinrea flicked a finger at the screen, and text rolled down.
This is the warship Lolo Maude, with a message for all surviving humans still fleeing our stolen Earth. A lure was established at this star system to attract the Olyix here. When they arrived, I assisted the Strike mission to defeat them. Be aware that the Olyix know about our generation worlds, and they have plotted the course of our expansion into the galaxy. They know our Strike ships create lures. Their weapons technology has now advanced past anything our original Neána allies gave us. They have ambushed countless human ships and societies during the last two thousand years. Please consider this stage of our exodus to be over. Do not engage their ships; it has become too dangerous. Find a new strategy. I wish anyone who receives this message well in your endeavour, and trust that one day we will join together again on all the worlds we have lost. Go in peace, and remember that our love is always stronger than their hatred.
‘That’s it,’ Cinrea said. ‘Constant repeat, no variation.’
Tilliana closed her eyes. ‘It’s an Olyix lure,’ she said.
‘How so?’ Kenelm said.
‘They know everything about us: the generation worlds, Strikes, lures. All of it. They know what we’re supposed to do after we receive a Signal.’
‘Oh, Saints,’ Dellian said in alarm. ‘Once we receive a Signal, we’re expected to travel direct to the nearest neutron star.’
‘You think they’re waiting there for us?’ Cinrea asked.
‘High probability,’ Tilliana said.
‘No,’ Yirella said as she recovered from the shock of the message. ‘It’s genuine.’
‘Okay,’ Kenelm said wearily. ‘How so?’
‘Two reasons. The logical one: This is a high-power Signal, and becoming stronger, right?’
‘Yes,’ Cinrea confirmed.
‘There is no conceivable scenario in which the Olyix would broadcast their enclave location – not in a transmission that will ultimately be detectable clean across the galaxy. Any aliens who pick it up won’t be able to translate our written languages because they have no linguistic or symbology references. However, the pulsar map is maths-based, so it’s relatively easy to determine. The Neána will understand that. The Katos, too. Maybe it will even make the Angelis war fleet turn around and head for the enclave. If you’re a species that’s suffered and fled from an Olyix invasion, the one thing you don’t have is the enclave location. Because once you have that, defeating the Olyix becomes theoretically possible. So no, that Signal is not an Olyix lure. It’s real.’
‘Okay,’ Tilliana said cautiously. ‘And the second reason?’
‘Lolo Maude is sort of my ancestor.’
‘What?’
She would have laughed at everyone’s reaction if it hadn’t been so damn tragic. ‘I traced my genetic ancestry when I was undergoing . . . treatment back on Juloss.’ She glanced at Alexandre, who gave a discreet nod. ‘It goes all the way back to someone called Bik Heslop. His claim to fame – the only reason he was in our records – was because he was the first human ever to successfully undergo de-cocooning.’
‘So who is Lolo?’ Dellian asked.
‘Sie was the partner of Bik’s brother, Ollie Heslop, who . . . Well, he died in London to help the Saints get on board the Salvation of Life. Both Lolo and Bik left Earth for Akitha.’
‘How does that prove Lolo’s message is real?’
‘Proof is an absolute we can never establish in this case, but it’s another byte of data that adds to the authenticity. Lolo and Bik’s extended family was on the Pasobla; that’s the same exodus habitat that took Emilja and Ainsley from Akitha when the Olyix finally returned to the human worlds. So Lolo must have been on the same generation ship as Ainsley when it left Falkon. Sie was at the Factory. Sie became one of their warships, just like Ainsley.’
‘We never knew before if there were more Factory ships than just Ainsley,’ Alexandre said. ‘So now we do. You’re right, it does add to the authenticity.’
Yirella gave him a small nod of gratitude. ‘You also need to consider how close the Lolo and Ainsley ships were located on a galactic scale,’ Yirella said. ‘It can’t be coincidence. This whole part of space is the front of the human expansion wavefront. Everything is concentrated here.’
‘All right,’ Tilliana said. ‘So the Lolo Maude is a genuine Factory warship, and it took out an Olyix ambush. The Olyix response to that is still going to be automatic; while we sit here, they’re on their way back to that star in considerable force. When they get there, they’ll destroy that transmitter globe as fast as they can. And once they realize what’s been broadcast, they’ll set up an ambush at every neutron star along the expansion wavefront. Like you said, this is where human activity is concentrated – if anyone else is left. The Olyix will be waiting for all the remaining Strike missions.’
‘Exactly,’ Yirella said. ‘But they haven’t got the message yet. It’s too early. So we have to continue our flight to the neutron star. We have the advantage now.’
Kenelm glanced at Wim then Cinrea. ‘Are we ready to resume our flight?’
Wim nodded. ‘Yes, Captain. A year decelerating to here, then another year accelerating back up to relativistic velocity means that we’ll arrive later than we were supposed to, but I’m confident there should be no more problems with our drive systems.’
‘But where’s the other Strike mission now?’ Ovan blurted.
‘Excuse me?’ Cinrea asked.
‘Lolo Maude didn’t build a lure. We know Factory ships just wait in some kind of reduced state for the Olyix. It was a Strike mission, just li
ke the Morgan. Whatever humans were at that star bioformed its planet. So, right now, if they’re following protocol—’
‘Saints, yes!’ Dellian said in excitement. ‘They’ll be heading straight for the same neutron star as us.’
‘All the surviving Strike ships will be,’ Tilliana said. ‘As soon as they detect the Signal, they’ll fly there – and every Factory ship as well. Hell, if there are any left, we might even get some generation ships changing course and joining us.’
‘We won’t be alone any more!’
Yirella hadn’t seen Del as jazzed up as this since they detected the Olyix ship approaching Vayan. This was almost the old Dellian. She reached out and squeezed his hand. ‘Not necessarily,’ she said apologetically. ‘Lolo’s Signal was very clear; humans have to develop a new strategy now that the Olyix know everything. That implies the neutron star will be the last place any human will be going.’
‘Oh. Right.’
‘We can’t speculate on how others will interpret the warning,’ Kenelm said. ‘Perhaps they will all stay away, or perhaps they will send an exploratory mission. However, I’m in agreement with Yirella that – although it is admittedly momentous news – Lolo’s Signal does not alter our objective. Therefore, we will resume our flight to the neutron star. Tilliana?’
‘Yes, Captain?’
‘Liaise with Wim, please. I want a tactical scenario drawn up for our deceleration phase at the neutron star. We will not be caught out and ambushed again.’
Kruse Station
S-Day, 11th December 2206
There were eight principal coordinator seats in the Kruse Station’s Strikeback Command Centre, their solid frames almost lost amid the bright geode stalactite holograms that spiked out from the chamber’s smooth walls and ceiling to fill the air. Adjutant-General David Johnston acknowledged his staff as he came in, then sat in his own seat at the back, giving him a perfect view of more data than any human could absorb. Another sheet of holographic displays curved around him as he took off his wire-rimmed glasses and tucked them into his jacket pocket.
‘Are we ready?’ he asked.
The eight coordinators he’d brought with him from Alpha Defence, immersed in their own digitized nest of laserlight, acknowledged him one by one.
‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends,’ Johnston said softly. ‘But when the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger.’ He paused for a moment, eyes shut as he drew a breath, then told his altme to open a feed to the G8Turing that would be directing the Strike. Immediately the graphic dendrites in his displays burst into digital leaf as data surged in. Training allowed him to keep calm when what he wanted was to be anywhere else. Besides, who else could he entrust this job to? But the flood of fresh real-time information did reinforce the suspicion that it was too much. The reality was that he’d be playing a very small part in the attack, a janitor shuffling around the feet of the G8Turings.
A tiny purple icon flashed somewhere above him and interfaced with his tarsus lenses, allowing him to access the symbol. ‘Let them in,’ he told the command centre, with only a small hint of resentment.
The door behind him opened. Emilja Jurich and Ainsley Zangari walked in. For once, neither of them had their aides with them. As always, Emilja looked imperious and dignified in a high-collared black silk dress, while Ainsley had shrugged into a navy and burgundy college varsity jacket as if he were on his way to a frat party. Johnston managed not to frown at the sight of him; Ainsley had been absent from council meetings for months. There were rumours . . .
‘Don’t worry, General.’ Ainsley chuckled. ‘We’re not going to interfere. We’re here to observe. This is history.’
‘And provide you with some moral support,’ Emilja added. ‘Some of the decisions that led to today are ethically questionable – and that’s just from Ainsley’s point of view.’
‘Fuck you! I was right about those Olyix shits all along.’
‘I believe you may have mentioned that occasionally.’
‘I appreciate the political support you’ve given me over the last couple of years,’ Johnston said neutrally. ‘The Sol Senate doesn’t exactly share your opinion.’
‘Bunch of fucking politicians,’ Ainsley growled. ‘They’re the ones who didn’t give you the weapons we needed to defend Earth, then they blame you. Assholes. We should have dumped the lot of them in Leipzig. Show them how hard reality can bite.’
Emilja smiled coldly. ‘Are we ready, General?’
‘Yes. If it doesn’t work today, then it never would have.’ He ran a fast gestalt review, checking the positions of the Olyix ships in the Sol system; the stealthed expansion portals around Earth; the status of the massed warships at Delta Pavonis, Puppis, Eta Cassiopeiae, 82 Eridani and Trappist 1; the Knockdown team – ‘How’s it going?’
‘We’re ready, sir,’ Loi replied. ‘Everything is in position, and sensor coverage is excellent.’
‘Good. Stand by.’ And finally: ‘Avenging Heretic, we are go for Strikeback.’
‘Roger that, General,’ Yuri replied. ‘We’re ready.’
‘Godspeed, Avenging Heretic. See you on the far side of eternity.’ Johnston consulted the dense panorama of data. The G8Turing splashed up suitable opening moves. He studied them for a long moment. A squadron of three hundred Olyix mid-level transport ships was curving down out of their thousand-kilometre orbit, the lead vessel heading for the glowing blemish that was London – still defiantly existing. He gave them a vindictive smile. ‘Not that easy, motherfuckers.’ A series of stealthed portals splashed across his vision, eager amber stars high above the Atlantic Ocean. ‘Initiate phase one.’
*
Three thousand kilometres above Earth, in the centre of the inner Van Allen radiation belt where the concentration of hazardous electrons and protons was at their greatest, forty expansion portals opened to their full eighty-metre diameter. The ships that came through had been built in the vast industrial facilities orbiting Nanjing, the third Trappist 1 world to be settled by China. As soon as the invasion began, all those facilities that had been involved in the terraforming venture were reconfigured to build habitats for the exodus, and the new Yi Xian class of attack cruisers.
Designed mainly as weapons platforms, the cruisers were basic dodecahedrons sixty metres in diameter, accelerated by a trio of fusion rockets. Their protection came from close defence shields that wrapped the carbotanium fuselage in a five-metre-deep cloak of nitrogen, locked into a density gradient by bonding generators, like a cross-section of a gas giant’s atmosphere – with a gaseous outer layer that quickly thickened into a shell of unnatural solidity and toughness. The simplicity and modularity of the design allowed for mass production. By the time S-Day arrived, Trappist 1 had produced more than eight and a half thousand.
Two thousand of them deployed out of the expansion portals at the rate of one every five seconds. Each one came out on a vector slightly different from the previous ship’s, and ignited its fusion rockets, accelerating away at four gees. They didn’t have quite the manoeuvrability of the Olyix transports, but they made up for that in sheer numbers.
The Olyix ships above Earth immediately began evasive manoeuvres, streaking away from their orbital track at seven gees. High above them, the Yi Xian cruisers kept coming, spreading out like a falling storm cloud. The first forty to emerge fired an octet of conventional fusion rocket missiles that accelerated down at fifty gees. They ignored the Olyix ships above the mesosphere and plunged on down into the stratosphere, where the transports were powering up through the ozone layer in their bid to escape.
Earth’s damaged atmosphere was hit by multiple hypersonic shockwaves rippling out from the missiles as they tore the beleaguered air apart. All of them ejected a barrage of tiny sensor spheres that spread out in mimicry of a meteorite shower to provide unparalleled observation data to Strikeback command’s G8Turing. With the lead Olyix transport ship still a hundred kilometres west of the Azores, and tr
avelling at Mach eighteen, the missiles began to explode their twenty-five-megaton warheads in a carefully calculated sequence.
The sensor spheres observed the intense atmospheric devastation, tracking energized blastwaves and radiation surges, scrutinizing their effect on the exposed Olyix craft. Alpha Defence had designed the nukes with an enhanced gamma emission effect. The transports seemed to have very little resistance to the radiation. As soon as the bombs started to explode, they began to lose acceleration. Those closest to the blasts lost power altogether and began to tumble out of the sky. Then the colossal blastwave struck the remaining ships. Several disintegrated, and the remainder were slammed about helplessly, spinning out of control towards the glaring breakers far below. The sensors tracked every aspect of their decay and death for the G8Turing to analyse.
A second batch of missiles was fired from the Yi Xian cruisers. These had smaller warheads and detonated to the west of the first barrage, close to Bermuda, where the desperate Olyix were racing for the top of the mesosphere. Their fate provided another tranche of detailed performance data to the Strikeback G8, refining the operational parameters of the Olyix ships. Johnston watched the information build.
Soćko’s icon splashed into his display. ‘You’ve rattled them,’ he said. ‘The Salvation onemind is deeply shocked by the attack. They didn’t expect us to use nukes on Earth. It’s redeploying Deliverance ships to protect the transports.’
‘But not recalling them?’ Johnston asked.
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Very well, let’s get it to take us more seriously. Move to phase two.’
Eight hundred portals opened above Earth, completely encircling the globe. Cruisers poured through. The majority started to head down to the planet, while others formed up into fifty-strong attack formations and accelerated along interception courses towards incoming Deliverance ships. Space was drenched with slender fusion plumes, fashioning a crosshatch of incandescent light above the upper atmosphere, caging the whole planet.
The Saints of Salvation [British Ed.] Page 14