by Chris Fox
“It is damned good to see you,” Nolan said, extending a hand.
Fizgig grabbed it, yanking Nolan toward her. She ignited her plasma blade, jabbing at his throat. Nolan’s own blade flared to life, knocking the blow aside. Fizgig gave a rare smile, a deep purr rolling through her chest. “You’ve been practicing. I am impressed, Nolan.”
Hannan and Annie had their weapons trained in her direction. Izzy’s plasma blade was also ignited, but she seemed unsure which side to support. Lena simply stared, wide eyed.
Then Hannan started to laugh, walking up to stand next to Fizgig. She smiled, snapping a tight salute. Then she dropped her arm and gave the first friendly smile Fizgig had ever seen from her. “The captain’s right, it’s good to see you Fizgig. I wish we had a hundred more fleet captains with half your fire.”
“Come on, Khar is landing.” Nolan clapped her on the shoulder, then moved off toward the neighboring hangar. Another harvester had already landed, and several Judicators had debarked. The sight of them filled Fizgig with unease.
51
Preparing for Battle
Kathryn knew she was the outsider. It wasn’t just the suspicious looks from nearly everyone. It was also the fact that she hadn’t been there with them in the trenches. She hadn’t earned her place in the squad. They didn’t know what she could do, outside of the times they’d had to fight her.
She was sure Delta would have welcomed her, and mourned his loss again. Nolan, Hannan, and Kathryn had spent the morning piecing together what had happened. The only conclusion was that he’d snuck aboard the harvester with the micro-singularity, then used it to take out Reid. Gaining righteous retribution was a fitting end, one she felt Delta would have been proud of. He’d fought back, and in the end he’d triumphed against the monster that had taken everything from him
“You all right?” Nolan asked, touching her lightly on the shoulder.
She looked up, blinking, and couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the sight of him. Nolan had filled out some; the bulging of his arm muscles was visible under his uniform. “Just lost in thought again. There’s been a lot to catch up on.”
“I can’t even imagine.” They rounded a corner and started up the final flight of stairs to the conference room. He lowered his voice. “This won’t take too long. I haven’t invited the Primo. Fizgig and I agreed to keep this gathering as small as possible.”
“Then why am I here?” Kathryn asked, more than a little surprised. “I was the enemy until two days ago. I’ve seen the way they look at me. You’re not winning any favors by having me at this meeting.”
“I want you there for three reasons,” Nolan said, wearing that officer’s confidence again. “First, you’re one of the finest tactical minds in the fleet. Second, you’ve got insight into the Gorthians. You might be able to show us a new perspective. Third, I’m going to need a second in command soon. My vessel doesn’t have a single officer other than myself.”
“Oh I get it,” Kathryn said, playfully. “You want me to serve under you.”
“You forgot the sir, Commander,” Nolan said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Damned it’s good having you back.”
They were close enough to hear the hum of conversation, so Kathryn let off the flirting. The Tigris were already seated, Fizgig flanked by Izzy and Lena. The snowy one was a soldier, and the golden-furred lioness was from the Tigris science caste. Behind them loomed an Alpha Judicator.
Kathryn’s hand dropped to her plasma pistol, but she forced herself to relax. She had to remind herself that the Judicators were on their side. This one was even the leader of a pride, supposedly. Khar of Pride Leonis.
Nolan strode into the room, taking a seat directly across from Fizgig. Kathryn sat next to him, clasping her hands in her lap. She was very conscious of the fact that none of Nolan’s other people were here. What kind of message did that send, and how did the others feel about it? Was Nolan aware of that? She couldn’t really gauge how savvy he’d become.
“Okay, Fizgig. I know you like brief, so we’re going to catch you up as fast as possible,” Nolan said. Everyone’s gaze shifted in his direction. “We have the Forge. The Forge is an ass-kicking machine of death. But the Primo aren’t sure it’s enough to kill the Eye. Annie tells me that Dryker called the entire fleet home, and we both know what that means.”
“He’s been implanted,” Fizgig said, eyes narrowing to slits. “I believe that Celendra was implanted, also—probably before Dryker. That makes both factions suspect. Without their support, is victory possible?”
“We will make it possible,” Khar rumbled, leaning his massive frame a bit closer to the table.
“You might want to hear what I have to say before making any bold claims, Khar,” Nolan said. His voice had gone icy, and his gaze was fixed unblinkingly on the Alpha. It would seem that he hadn’t forgotten that Khar had skirted the letter of Dryker’s decree about who could become a Judicator. “That was the next part of my report. During the battle where we took the Forge, we learned that an Eye can assume direct control of both Judicators and harvesters. It used them against us, and that mistake cost quite a few Primo lives.”
“That’s impossible,” Khar snapped. He slammed a fist into the wall, leaving a head-sized dent. “We will not be used or controlled. We will do the using. I am no puppet. I will fight these Gorthians to the end, as will every Judicator that follows me. We need their strength, for even with it we are vastly outnumbered.”
“I studied the footage of the battle with Reid, the one where it used the Judicators to assault the Primo’s master core. Edwards was able to resist the Eye’s control,” Kathryn found herself saying. All eyes turned to her, and she straightened. She’d faced a review board of admirals. She could deal with a few Tigris. “Granted, we don’t know if his immunity is a fluke, but I suspect it’s not. We can have Lena, Atrea, and our new Primo allies examine him. They’ll find out why he’s not affected, and we’ll make sure the rest of our Judicators are similarly shielded. For the harvesters, we can wire the VI into all ship functions, and remove the base computer. The Eye will have nothing to send a message to.”
“A good plan, but we won’t know if we’ve succeeded until we’re in combat,” Fizgig cautioned, folding her arms across her chest. “Only then will we see if the Void Wraith can still be controlled.” She looked to Nolan. “Your distrust is wise, but so too is Khar’s assessment. We need the extra strength. If we removed every Judicator and every harvester, the Tigris would lose a full two-thirds of our forces.”
“We’ll take the risk then,” Nolan answered, giving a grudging nod. “Are we agreed that we have to stop the Eye at Earth? This is pretty much all or nothing, Fizgig. If we lose this, there won’t be a force large enough to oppose the Void Wraith. They’ll finish the Eradication.”
“I speak for Pride Fizgig,” Fizgig said, nodding, “and we are ready to fight. I will speak to Carnifex, but I believe the Jaguara will also join. Khar, do we have the support of Pride Leonis?”
“Always, Mighty Fizgig.” Khar said. He dipped his head to Nolan. “You are wise to express concerns, Nolan. I apologize if I seem defensive.”
“Our scientists will find a way to shield you,” Nolan said, rising and giving the Alpha a respectful nod. “And you’re not wrong—we need all the help we can get.”
“It will take a little time to gather our might,” Fizgig said. She cocked her head, considering. “I believe we can reach Earth in seven hours, ready to reinforce the line.”
“We will need slightly longer to prepare the Forge for battle,” Manda said. “We will make for Earth the moment we are ready.”
“Sounds like we have the most workable plan we’re going to get. We meet at Sol, and try to kill the Eye.” Nolan gave a tight nod. He looked to Fizgig. “Kathryn and I will take a harvester after Mendez. Fizgig, that will leave Dryker and Celendra to you.”
52
The Trap is Set
Dryker clasped his hands beh
ind his back, staring impassively at the holodisplay. Sixteen vessels had just emerged, another of the near constant waves flowing into the Sol system since he’d suggested the president order everyone back to Earth. This wave was mostly cargo ships, with a single ore processor tucked in the middle. From a Ceras station, most likely.
“Juliard, do you have our current readiness reports?” Dryker asked, without turning to face the lieutenant.
“Yes, sir,” she replied, quietly. “There are seventy-four capital ships, twenty-seven frigates, and nine corvettes. They’ve been evenly divided into quadrants, all currently orbiting one of the defense platforms.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said, continuing their little game. Neither mentioned the looming truth, that they’d been compromised by the enemy. Both were aware of the larva growing inside them, controlling their actions whenever the need arose.
Dryker pressed a button on his comm, and the holo shifted to show Earth. He zoomed in on the closest defense platform, the most impressive armament humanity had produced. The station was a cube, each plane set with dozens of railguns. Between the railguns were round black holes—missile tubes. Each station could fill the night sky with warheads, then use the railguns to pick off survivors.
Unfortunately, the defense platforms had never been tested. They’d been built to stop the Tigris, and would have performed admirably in that role if the Tigris had ever reached Earth. The Void Wraith, though? Dryker imagined the platforms would be of limited effectiveness. With two weeks of downtime, he could probably outfit them with Primo weaponry, but that was time he just didn’t have—and that was assuming the larva even allowed him to do that.
Dryker had no idea when the blow would fall, but it was clear why the larva had forced him to draw humanity here. They were going to be wiped out, Earth harvested in whatever grisly manner the Eye required. Even now he could feel that Eye, through his link to the larva. It was everywhere, all-powerful.
Curiously, the Eye didn’t micromanage. Dryker had been left to his own devices, allowed to plan the best defense possible. He was doing his utmost to ensure that humanity made this victory a costly one for the Void Wraith. That freedom still terrified him, though. Why wasn’t the Eye sabotaging their defense? Was it that certain of victory? If so, that faith was probably well-placed.
“Sir,” Juliard said politely.
Dryker looked up at the hologram again, and noted a small flashing icon in the corner. He selected it, and the view shifted back to the sun. Another wave of ships had emerged. There were fewer of them, but they were still the most impressive wave. Eight Primo carriers flew out of the star in formation, making directly for Earth.
“Hail them,” Dryker ordered, moving back to his chair. He sat rigidly, waiting until the screen shifted to show the First Light’s familiar bridge. Celendra sat on her floating throne, her makeup not quite hiding the waxy appearance of her skin. Now that he knew what to look for, it was obvious to Dryker that she’d been infected. “Hello, Celendra. Thank you for answering our call.”
“You are our allies; we could do nothing else,” Celendra said, nodding respectfully. “How may we best aid the defense of your planet?”
“If you could send two carriers to each of the orbital defense platforms, we’d be grateful,” Dryker supplied. “We’ve got four fronts, and if any area fails the Void Wraith will be able to harvest civilians.”
“Are you certain it is not wiser to concentrate all our forces in one location?” Celendra asked. There was no accusation in the question, just a request for more data.
Dryker suddenly realized that Celendra was probably like him, left to do her best to save her people most of the time, then jerked about like a puppet the moment the Eye needed something done.
“I’m certain,” Dryker said, soberly. “I still believe Fizgig will come to our aid, and if she does we’ll use her forces to reinforce whatever area is in trouble. But abandoning three quadrants guarantees Earth’s destruction. We need to find a way to hold.”
Even as he uttered the words, Dryker knew they weren’t true. The Eye was coming, and all three of them knew it.
53
Starve Them Out
Admiral Mendez took rapid, shallow breaths. He could feel the tubes pumping something awful inside of him; a viscous green liquid pooled around him. The stench had stopped bothering him, but it was difficult to look past the fact that he was becoming less human every moment.
“We lack the time for you to focus on what you were,” the larva boomed in his mind. “Focus on the war. Win it, and take your place among the Gorthians.”
Mendez looked up at the wall-sized hologram, which had been carried in by Judicators. It was mounted to a rock wall above the pool, and currently displayed an image of the surrounding galaxy. Blue tags floated around many worlds, each representing one of his fleets. He’d focused the fleet in a wide dispersal, but the time had come to tighten that net on key targets.
“Bring up the list,” Mendez said, coughing into his hand. His voice was hoarse from disuse, a byproduct of having no one to talk to.
The holo added twenty six new icons. Twenty-five were red circles, each appearing over a world he’d deemed vital. Most were human, but half a dozen were Tigris. They contained the largest remaining populations, and wiping them out would reduce eighty percent of food production for both races. That would be critical going forward.
After they’d finished the main Eradication, it would take decades to root out survivors. Dryker treated them like guerrillas, and you rooted out guerrillas by cutting off their supply lines. That gave them no choice but to come to you, and when they did you eliminated them.
“This tactic is interesting,” the larva’s voice rumbled in his head. “Its use may shorten the interval necessary to cull survivors. Proceed with this attack.”
Mendez gritted his teeth, hating the ever-present voice, the reminder that he was a literal pawn. He forced himself back to the work, the tactical problems the only refuge he could find from his situation.
He had just over four thousand harvesters to work with, but before he could distribute them he needed to make sure he won the battle for Earth.
“That’s the real trick, isn’t it?” he muttered. He raised a trembling hand to his beard, stroking it absently as he shifted the view to show Earth.
He had real-time estimates of the planet’s defenses, and it looked like the Primo had just arrived to reinforce the human lines. Sizable fleets—some of the most impressive gathered in living memory—were arrayed around each platform.
“Order Fleets one through twenty to gather in the Tewet system to await further orders,” Mendez said, confident in the decision.
Two thousand ships would be more than enough to overwhelm all defense, even given that he didn’t know the exact composition of the Tigris reinforcements. If Fizgig mustered another three hundred ships, he’d be shocked, and odds were good that any new ones would be harvesters. That, more than anything else, would doom the allied races once the Eye ordered both Judicators and harvesters to turn on the alliance forces.
They’d be torn apart from within, even while being relentlessly attacked from without. As a military commander, this was the most airtight plan he’d ever been a part of. Of course, he’d never had a perfect network of spies, or the ability to control forty percent of the enemy force on command.
Even if humanity somehow won the battle here, the galaxy would never recover—especially with his remaining two thousand harvesters laying waste to the breadbaskets of all races. Either way, the survivors would starve.
54
The Eye Arrives
The Eye rejoiced, pushing itself from the star with enough force to counteract the sun’s immense gravity. Such capabilities had been lacking when it had first come to the Milky Way, but through study of the Primo it had evolved to mimic their starships. Its skin was more dense than any ship’s hull, impervious to nearly all forms of damage.
It drifted from the s
un, surveying the solar system it had arrived in. It was the first time the Eye had visited Sol, which had possessed no galactic importance the last time it had culled the galaxy. Records from that time had listed the system as a Primo outpost, but they’d never touched the third planet. Earth, while habitable, had had none of the resources they sought.
Conversely, it now possessed the one resource the Eye needed, and it possessed that resource in an abundance the Eye had never seen before: twenty billion people clustered across the planet’s surface in convenient cities. That amount of genetic mass would allow the Eye to evolve again, likely in unexpected ways.
But first it needed to deal with the defenders. Ships floated around several platforms, primitive devices with little chance of harming the Eye. Yet the Eye had survived as long as it had through patience and diligence. It wouldn’t underestimate these humans, or their Tigris allies. The Eye activated its communication organ, reaching out to the two thousand vessels that had emerged with it.
All were ready to fight. It resisted the urge to order them into battle, leaving that task to vessel Mendez. The human had already proven invaluable as a combat leader, and the Eye had decided to preserve that mind. Like Reid, Mendez would be allowed to keep much of his identity after its progeny was born from his body. Mendez would be given command of all forces created during this Eradication, then sent to join the galactic front.
“Begin the assault,” Mendez’s voice echoed through the Eye’s communication organ.
The Void Wraith began to move, and the Eye watched their advance with great interest. Mendez had divided the fleet into three parts. The first two were five hundred ships each, and the last a full thousand. Both groups of five hundred moved to engage orbital defense platforms, while the reserves advanced behind. The Eye approved of the strategy. If the humans stripped defenders from the other two platforms, then the reserve could move up to attack them. If they stayed where they were, the Void Wraith would wipe out half their forces, then move on to the other half.