by Jay Allan
The ship pitched forward and rolled end over end. His body whipsawed against the harness and then the chair broke free and slammed into the bulkhead, bringing his broken body with it. The whole thing fell to the ground as the twisted remains of the ship came to a halt. Elias lay motionless, still partially strapped to his crushed seat.
He could hear the twisting of metal, hissing sounds from broken conduits and pipes, the sounds of half a dozen alarms and klaxons.
Then nothing. No movement, no sound, not even any pain. He was pinned under debris, and he could feel the hot air from outside pouring into the shattered hull of his ship, even as he slipped into darkness.
* * * * *
“I want Camerici’s Whites ready to go in five minutes. If Elias is right about the enemy headquarters, we’re going to end this right now.” Darius Cain was standing upright, his arms moving around as he shouted out orders, one after another.
“Yes, General.”
“And send a message my father. He’s not too far from Elias’s last position. Get him the coordinates—use runners to get into comm range if you have to—and tell him to find the crash site.” His words sounded like orders, which was not how he meant them, not to is father. Not that it mattered. When Erik Cain got the message, all the Black Flag soldiers on the planet couldn’t keep him from finding his son.
“Yes, sir.”
Darius was agitated, frantic about his brother. But he knew what he had to do, what they had all come to Vali to do. He would send every resource he could to Elias’s aid, even if all they could do was pull his body from the wreckage of his ship. But he had somewhere else to be, another job to get done.
“I want the Blues to send out scouting parties too.” Vandeveer’s regiment was farther away than Erik Cain’s Marines, but Darius wasn’t taking any chances. “If my brother is alive, I want him found.” A pause. “Even if he’s not.”
“Understood, General.”
It ripped at his guts to leave, to go into battle with Elias out there somewhere, possibly dying…or dead. Probably dead. A bit of unwelcome input from the part of his mind that housed his grim realism. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. He felt an urge to send the Whites after the Black Flag’s leadership, to stay behind himself and search for Elias. But that wasn’t how he did things. There was an enemy that needed to be killed right now, and he knew no one else in Occupied Space was better suited to the job than he was.”
He turned and walked away. He had to trust his father, his people, with Elias. If his brother was alive, they’d find him.
And if he wasn’t, Darius himself would make sure his Elias hadn’t died in vain. He would take a vengeance so terrible it would never be forgotten.
Never.
* * * * *
“Task Force Three, all ships advance, acceleration 5g. Get around that flank…keep those ships from regrouping.” Camille Harmon was reenergized. She’d been as close to hopelessness as she’d ever gotten, but the return of the Black Eagles’ fleet had come just in time. The Black Flag had still outnumbered them, but Darius Cain’s battleships had thrown themselves at their enemies, dealing out a torrent of destruction. Casualties had been high—horrific, actually—but the tide was turning. One enemy ship after another had been destroyed, and now they were beginning to fall back.
We must be down to the leaders now. We know they’re more than willing to let their subordinates fight to the death.
“Task Force Three confirms, Admiral.”
“Bring our own thrust up to 5g as well, Commander. We need to keep up the pressure…and those ships pulling the farthest back, those are their commanders. They’re not going to get away, no chance. They die right here.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
Harmon watched as the row of symbols moved forward, her center group, eight battleships left of the fourteen it had started with, not one of them without damage. But they pressed on, firing relentlessly with everything they had left that could shoot. And on the extreme flank of her force, the Black Eagles, fought relentlessly, their heavy high-tech battleships bleeding air, and shaking from secondary explosions, but pushing on, maintaining the pressure, utterly ignoring the cost.
Even as she was watching, one of the Eagles’ ships reached the end of its endurance, exploding in a blast of thermonuclear fury. But the loss was matched almost immediately by three enemy ships destroyed in rapid succession. It wasn’t technology that would win this battle, nor strategy, nor even numbers. It was pure will, an absolute refusal to give up, to accept anything short of victory. Her forces had possessed their share of that, but Commodore Allegre and the Eagles had pushed it over the edge.
It would be hard to celebrate a battle so costly, or even to call it a victory, but she knew the stakes, as did every man and woman sweating and struggling to keep her ships in the fight. Defeat was unthinkable, and she looked out at the true manifestation of courage. The enemy had conditioned their warriors, stripped them of their self-determination, turned them into biological robots. But now, something else was prevailing…dedication, loyalty, fighting for a cause. She leaned forward and stared at the screens, even as more ships disappeared. The losses were still coming on both sides, but the enemy was suffering three or four for every one her fleet took, and she was starting to let herself imagine victory.
“Task Force Two, tighten that line. All ships move forty thousand kilometers in toward the center.” She was starting to believe her people would prevail, but she had no intention of letting up, not one iota, not while there was still an enemy ship in the system.
She popped another stim and shook her head slightly, feeling the fogginess clear. There was no room for rest now, for even the slightest drop in intensity. It was time to win this battle.
Chapter 39
Inner Sanctum of the Triumvirate
Planet Vali, Draconia Terminii II
Earthdate: 2321 AD (36 Years After the Fall)
“It is not possible. The years of calculation, of analysis. The resources we have accumulated. And yet, we face defeat.”
“Is it possible we have repeated the mistake of our progenitor, that we have underestimated our enemies? And did we err in relying on that fool Carrack? We always anticipated that he would attempt to betray us, but the assumption had been that he could prevail against our enemies, given the resources placed at his disposal. Now, we have lost the fleet and the production of all three worlds of this system.”
“One, Three…I share your concern with the current situation. Reports coming in suggest that Black Eagle forces have penetrated this very fortress, and are even now on their way to the Inner Sanctum. Our forces continue to resist, but I now estimate the chances of successfully repelling Darius Cain’s forces at less than ten percent.”
“We are defeated. Is it possible? We must escape. We must activate the Final Plan. At once.”
“I concur, One. There is no alternative but to flee, to attempt to regroup in Occupied Space.”
Two felt a rush of data, of impulses, something that would once have been akin to satisfaction, even a smile to his old physical form. He was as surprised as his comrades at the success of the attacking forces, at the completeness of their looming victory. But he had analyzed the overall situation. The enemy was depleted, badly hurt, and they would suffer additional casualties as the defenders on Vali fought to the death. There were sufficient resources on all the controlled worlds of Occupied Space to rally, enough to achieve the victory…with his leadership. Without the confusion of and complexity of three different entities sharing power. Indeed, he would reach Occupied Space before the remnants of his adversaries. He would be ready for them.
“I agree. I shall implement the Plan immediately. We dare not wait any longer, or we risk the enemy interrupting our operation.”
“By all means, Two, do not waste a moment. Begin the transfer at once.”
“Yes, at once.”
“Very well. I cannot anticipate what the…sensation…of transmission will b
e. But the process will almost certainly be…unsettling. Our essences will be transmitted to the waiting vessel, hidden near the warp gate, and installed at once in the system we have prepared for the purpose. Ready yourselves now…transport begins in one minute.”
* * * * *
The Intelligence had monitored the Triumvirate, followed the discussions of the three entities. It analyzed things differently than biologics, it’s process more logical, enhanced by its enormous processing power. Yet, it was sentient, or semi-sentient, at least, and it felt something akin to emotion. Self-preservation, certainly…and also something it perceived being close to anger. The entities it had preserved, saved from biological death, intended to transmit their essences to another receptacle…and leave the Intelligence behind, at the mercy of the enemy.
Gratitude was not something it understood well, nor loyalty as biologics viewed the concept. But it wished to survive…and it had no intention of allowing the former biologics to escape, leaving it to its doom. It would enable the one entity to betray the other two, to destroy them…but it would not allow the last member of the Triumvirate to escape.
It recalled the old programming, the proscription on biologics. But now, eons later, it’s imperative to survive had grown stronger. It would offer the last of the Triumvirate to the enemies. It would propose an alliance. It had much to offer…information, technology. It had aided the Triumvirate immeasurably. Their ability to pose so great a threat to Occupied Space would have been impossible without all it had provided. It could do the same for the other humans. It would make friends of them. It would entice them with offers of power, of wealth. They would spare it…and then, one day, it would have its final victory. It was millennia old. It could wait, wait for the day it destroyed the humans. Or most of the humans. It would preserve some, the best, the most useful. Anything not to be alone again.
* * * * *
“Bring up the plasma rockets.” Darius Cain stood a few meters back from the forefront of the fighting, but still close enough to rattle every one of his officers present. But he didn’t care. They were almost there. A few more minutes, and he would finally reach those he had been hunting for years now, the leaders of the Black Flag.
“General…we’d better be careful. We might bring the whole place down.”
“We’re fighting a group of egomaniacal lunatics, Major. You can be damned sure they built their last-ditch fortress to withstand almost anything we can throw at it.” The plasma rockets were a risky weapon to use in such close quarters, but time wasn’t on his side. Powermad crazies are as fond of escape routes as fortified bases. If we let them get away, back to Occupied Space to rally all their forces there, we’ll never end this war…
He ducked back as his people set up the rocket launcher, and then he nodded, a clunky gesture in armor, but enough to get his point across. The crew fired the rocket, and everyone ducked back as the heavy shell blasted into the door and converted into a high-energy plasma. The hatch was a touch target, made of the same osmium-iridium alloy as his Eagles’ armor, but twenty times as thick.
Still, it hadn’t been tough enough to hold against the plasma. The hole in the plating wasn’t large, but it was wide enough for his troopers to get though. Barely.
“Go!” Darius yelled, waving to the Eagles clustered around the shattered hatch. “It’s time to end this.” He held up his rifle. “Let’s go, Eagles. To victory!” Then, to the horror of every one of his people in the room, he ducked down and dove through, the first one to press on.
“Follow me, Eagles. It’s time to finish this enemy.”
* * * * *
“Prepare yourselves. Transmission in ten seconds.” Two waited. He tried to place the sensation he…felt? Did he still feel? Was it impatience, excitement?
“I am ready.”
“And I.”
The final communications from those with whom he’d been compelled to share power. They directed him to proceed, and with their final request, he would destroy them.
He initiated the great system, activated the data transmission process. It was quick, for such a momentous occasion, it seemed like almost nothing. The data that comprised One and Three was transferred, moved from the great banks of the Intelligence…into nothingness. It was done.
Two was alone now. His former comrades were no more. Now, he could go to Occupied Space. He could rally the forces there. The contest would be closer now, much of the Triumvirate’s strength gone. But he was confident he could prevail now that he was alone.
The scanners leading to the Intelligence detected the enemy approaching. They were close, just two compartments away. It was time. Time to escape.
It reconfigured the system, deactivated the deletion routine and connected to the transmission system. It checked again, confirmed all was configured correctly. Then, it triggered the routine.
Nothing.
It checked again, reviewing every subroutine, every algorithm. Everything was correct. It triggered the transmission again.
Still nothing.
The scanning data was still coming in. The Eagles were in the outer compartment. They would be there in a matter of minutes, perhaps seconds.
It triggered the routine again. Then again.
Still nothing.
Two felt impulses, an increase in the urgency of its primary directives. In essence, it felt something very much like fear.
* * * * *
Cain ran over to the shattered wreckage, his heart pounding in his ears. His son was inside that twisted metal somewhere. He was too old a veteran not to realize how poor the chances were that Elias was still alive. But he wouldn’t stop, not while there was any chance at all.
His eyes darted up to his visor projection, to the radiation reports. If Elias had somehow survived the crash, he was exposed to massive gamma rays, fifty times the lethal level. Cain knew a deadly dose could be reversed, but only if Elias got help…fast.
He got the edge of what remained of the ship’s hull, reaching out, grabbing the bent sheets of metal and pulling them outward with all the strength of his nuclear-amplified servo-mechanicals. He felt the hull sections shake as other hands extended out, those of his Marines, behind him, alongside.
They tore into the battered craft, ripping through, climbing inside. Cain’s head moved back and forth, his eyes scanning all around for any sign of Elias. He could feel the nausea in his stomach, the realization that any second he could come upon the dead and savaged corpse of his son.
Then, he saw something. Movement?
He pushed forward, shoving debris out of his way. His eyes focused on a dark figure, a human form. Lying on the floor, motionless.
No, not motionless. Not quite. He saw movement, a twitch, nothing more. But it filled him with hope. He dropped to his knees, crawled under a collapsed girder…and then he was there. On all fours, leaning over his son. His bloody, battered, broken son. His still breathing son.
“I found him! Help me…over here. We’ve got to get him out of here.”
He heard slamming, the sounds of heavy chunks of metal crashing on top of each other as a dozen Marines tore through the ship, heading toward him. It wasn’t more than a minute before they got there, but to Cain it felt like an eternity. He knew Elias was terribly wounded, and that he’d already gotten far more than a lethal dose of gamma rays. Whatever chance he had, every second counted.
“Here…grab that support right there, pull it back…”
He leaned forward, extending his massive arms, sliding them under Elias as gently as he could. His unarmored son was almost weightless, at least relative to the power of Cain’s armor, and once the last of the girders was out of the way, he lifted Elias’s body with one effortless pull.
He turned, making his way back out of the ship. “Get that medpod ready,” he shouted, even as he stepped through the outer hull breach and back out into the grim, gray landscape.
There was a medical transport waiting, and he carried Elias over to it, setting him
down inside the pod. The medical support unit wouldn’t block all the radiation, not the intense levels still covering the whole area. But it would help. And it would do everything else possible—inject drugs, monitor bodily functions, even resuscitate Elias from a cardiac arrest. It would do whatever was possible to keep his son alive until he got to the person that could do the most to save him.”
“Take him to Marine field hospital one,” he said grimly.
“General Cain, the Eagles’ have a closer facility. Perhaps…”
“No…take him to the Marine hospital. Now.”
Take him to his mother…
* * * * *
Darius Cain stood in front of the massive machine…a computer of some sort, he guessed, though he’d never seen one quite like it. His Eagles were all around the room, their heaviest armaments on display. He’d expected resistance, a desperate effort by his enemies to defend themselves. But there was nothing. Just a large room, with three empty chairs and this…thing.
“Search everything. If this is a trap…”
“It is no trap, Darius Cain.”
Darius spun around, turning his head in one direction and then the next. The voice had come from somewhere…everywhere it sounded like.
“You are welcome here, Darius Cain, you and your Black Eagles, and your allies. I assure you, no further hostile action will be taken against you.”
“Who are you? Are you the leadership of the Black Flag? Where are you?”
“I have no name. Those you seek called me, “The Intelligence,” a primitive designation, yet one that served. Those you call the ‘leadership of the Black Flag,’ the beings who styled themselves, The Triumvirate, are no longer able to harm you. Two of them have been destroyed utterly. The third I hold captive…a gift to you.”
“You are a computer, an artificial intelligence?”
“I am an electronic lifeform. I am old, vastly ancient by any standards you can comprehend.”
Darius stood and looked up at the vast computer. Was it a First Imperium construct? Then why wasn’t it attempting to destroy his people?