by Chris Fox
A single tear slid down Dryker’s cheek. Juliard wept softly behind him.
60
Losing
Fizgig stalked back and forth across her bridge, attention focused on the holo of the battle. It showed the Tigris fleet, most of the internal fighting done now.
“Mighty Fizgig,” Khar said, his face shimmering into view in the corner of the holo. “We’ve completed the retaking of my vessel. All enemy forces are down. I’m pleased to say that only one in five succumbed to the Void Wraith. The rest of us stand fast. We are moving to reinforce the humans line, unless you have new orders.”
“Well done, Mighty Khar,” Fizgig replied, her tone conveying irritation. “This was my tactical error. I believed that re-wiring the harvesters would be enough to stop them from turning. I did not anticipate some of the crews going over to the enemy, and ordering their vessels to turn against us. But we must move forward. Reinforce the humans. Those stations must not fall.”
“They will not, Mighty Fizgig. We will sell our lives in the the defense of this place,” Khar roared.
She gave him the deep nod of a true equal. He’d come so far since he’d first arrived on her bridge the year before, even if he was impetuous.
After a moment of apparent surprise, he returned her nod.
Fizgig spoke into her comm, projecting the message to the entire fleet. “Warriors of Pride Leonis, hear me. Today we accomplish deeds our kits’ kits will sing of. Today we ride to the defense of the humans. Reinforce their line!”
The Tigris flowed toward their enemies, like a pride of great cats moving silently through the high grasses. They slammed into the Void Wraith, devastating a swath of the flank. It relieved pressure on the human’s line, forcing the Void Wraith to pivot to deal with the Tigris.
“What am I seeing? No. No, no, no!” Fizgig roared, smashing a paw into the wall next to the holo. This was it, the proof that Dryker had been implanted.
She watched as the human defenders burst into motion, moving away from the relatively safety of the defense platforms. The 11th Fleet rushed into the Void Wraith jaws, the first wave dying almost instantly.
Then a segment of the Void Wraith reserves flowed in from above. Their target was clear. They rushed at the defense platform, nimbly dodging its cannon fire as they streaked closer. A flurry of plasma balls formed between their wingtips, dozens of them streaking toward the station, then hundreds.
If the station worked like the Tigris’s, it harnessed Earth’s magnetic field to power its shields. However they worked, the first several volleys of Void Wraith fire washed over a green forcefield, like pebbles into a pond.
On the third volley, several shots made it through, scoring the station’s immense armor. The fourth volley set the entire station aflame, and it began plummeting from orbit toward the continent below.
Fizgig panned her holo back, watching the entire battle. The humans of the 11th Fleet were flinging themselves into death. The Primo had wiped themselves out, with only Celendra’s First Light remaining, and that adding to their enemy’s strength. The Tigris were the only significant force remaining, but they were outnumbered five to one.
Fizgig recognized something she’d never seen before, a situation she had often inflicted on others: she saw defeat. There was simply no path to victory, no matter what they attempted. And they hadn’t yet engaged the Eye itself. Should she order the Tigris to fall back, retreating to some corner of the galaxy where they might be able to wait out the Eradication?
“Mighty Fizgig,” her weapons officer called. Fizgig’s head snapped up, and she refocused on the battle.
All along the right flank of the enemy, fleet harvesters were exploding. Blue light streaked down on them from high orbit, an immense shadow floating into the battle. The Primo had been as good as their word about the undetectable cloaking system. She’d been running continuous scans—as had their enemies, no doubt. Yet no one had detected that ship until it began firing into the battle.
“Finally,” Fizgig said, giving a very undignified purr. The Forge had joined the battle.
61
The Forge
Nolan stared in awe as they fell away from the Forge, their harvester made tiny by comparison. Hundreds of plasma bolts streaked from its cannons, most finding targets in the first volley. The weapons were slower, but had longer range and more punch. The fact that the Forge was able to get the drop on its opponents was devastating.
The entire Void Wraith outer line collapsed, dozens of vessels detonating in rapid succession. The next line began to cloak, scattering like a flock of pigeons avoiding a hawk. They had no idea that the Forge could track their movements, and it continued a steady stream of fire. Harvesters took evasive action, many outrunning the cannons.
Then bays began to open all along the bottom of the Forge. Dozens of them. Nolan had once seen bats fly out from under a bridge in Texas when he’d been a kid. They’d seemed endless, and so did the drones that the Forge belched into combat now. They were smaller, sleeker versions of the ones used by modern carriers. What was more, they could cloak.
They shimmered from sight, emerging to strike the Void Wraith in vast swarms. They were faster than harvesters, and maybe one-tenth the size. Their single plasma cannons scored engines and wingtips, destroying a target’s ability to fight. By themselves, the drones were little more than annoyances; as a swarm, they demonstrated a lethality Nolan had never witnessed.
They flowed around their targets like piranha, blowing up vessel after vessel. Nolan grinned, then shifted his attention to the larger battle. Their arrival had thrown the Void Wraith into chaos, but two of the three remaining orbital defense platforms were under heavy assault. Both were severely damaged, and one was already drifting down Earth’s gravity well. If it fell, it was going to make one hell of a splash in the Pacific.
Khar’s laughing voice came over his ship’s comm. “Mighty Nolan!” A tiny face appeared in his holo, and it looked different than the last time Nolan had seen it. Khar had painted his armor, even adding a ropey lion’s mane. “You are a welcome sight, my friend.”
“Good to see you, Khar. Who’s in command? We need to get this fight under control,” Nolan said, still watching the battle unfold. The Tigris were taking a pounding, and the 11th was crumbling. They were fleeing into the Void Wraith ranks, trying to escape. A few made it to safety, mostly due to the arrival of the Forge.
A new voice spoke on the comm. “Mighty Fizgig speaks for all prides. She is our commander, human. Not you.” A second figure appeared in the bottom center of the holodisplay. It was also an Alpha, and like Khar had been painted to mimic a Tigris. This one was a spotted Jaguar.
“Peace, Carnifex.” Fizgig’s face appeared on the bottom right of Nolan’s holo. “Nolan is my protégé, and trust me when I say you’ve no wish to meet him on the field of battle. He’s been on a mission to recover the behemoth that is currently terrorizing our enemy. If we are able to defeat the Eye, it will be because of him.”
“Why was I not told of this?” Carnifex asked, but the heat had left his voice.
“Because of spies, fool,” Fizgig snapped, immediately regretting the lapse. She moderated her tone. “Apologies for keeping you in ignorance, Mighty Carnifex. But we lack the time to debate this. We must come up with a plan to win, or we must use this respite to flee.”
“As you can see,” Nolan began, sending a feed of the giant golden sphere that had exited the sun. “We’ve harnessed the Helios Gate as a defensive tool. All damaged and civilian vessels can shelter there. I’d encourage you to have your people do the same, if they’re in a position where they can’t fight any longer.”
“Done,” Fizgig said, nodding to a dark-furred comm tech behind her. The tech began quietly relaying orders. “What about the Eye? Do we have a means of killing it?”
“Possibly,” Nolan said, hesitantly. He didn’t want to deliver false hope. “The Forge is tearing up the enemy fleet on its way to the the Eye now. But there
are a few other tasks we need to deal with.”
“Dryker,” Fizgig growled, eyes narrowing to slits.
“And Mendez,” Nolan said, nodding. “If there’s any chance you can take Dryker alive we have the means to cure him. Kathryn and I are after Mendez as we speak. The Forge will support your vessels until you can fall back into the Helios Sphere.”
“There is something you must see,” Fizgig said, frowning. “This footage was beamed by the 14th Fleet. It shows the Eye’s current location.”
Nolan was transfixed by the terrible footage. It showed the Eye over Asia, a sea of blue tendrils extending from its open iris. It appeared to be sucking up things from the surface, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess what the Eye was feeding on. Millions must already be dead. Possibly billions.
“Manda, are you monitoring the connection?” Nolan asked. The thought came suddenly, but given the Primo’s technical superiority it was very likely they had the means of listening in.
“Yes, Captain Nolan,” Manda said, her face appearing next to the others. “The footage you were just broadcast shows something vital. The Eye is vulnerable, if we can reach it in time. With the iris open, we can fire our temporal cannon at its unprotected inner eye. We can end this.”
62
Run and Hide
The Steadfast had cloaked, passing silently through the Void Wraith ranks. Dryker made for the moon’s nadir, staying in her shadow. He was close enough to monitor chatter, but far enough away that he’d likely avoid scans. He was under no illusion about what was going to happen now that the Forge had arrived. The Void Wraith ranks were getting chewed up, giving the Tigris breathing room.
As soon as Fizgig had breathing room she’d be coming for him, then Celendra. Dryker knew from the Eight-Year War that Fizgig was an implacable enemy, one that would hunt you across the galaxy, for years if necessary. She’d be coming for him now, and his best defense was stealth. That wouldn’t fool her forever, but it would fool her long enough to give her another target.
Celendra’s carrier was a big, shiny target. If Fizgig couldn’t find him, then she’d likely settle for Celendra. That bought him time, which he could use to formulate a new plan, though what that plan might be eluded him. For the first time, the possibility of the Eye’s defeat seemed real, but he wasn’t sure how he could either help or hinder it. He’d lost his credibility with the fleet by making his last order, so he doubted they’d obey another.
Even if they would, the second he broadcast one, Fizgig would know where he was. His only chance of survival was waiting silently. So that was what he did, watching as the battle continued to unfold.
63
Keep Eating
Hundreds of millions of humans were sucked in by the tendrils of light, dropped into a digestive soup already forming inside the Eye. They died near instantly, their genetic matter distilled into a usable form. It was the most pleasurable experience the Eye could partake in, something to savor. Yet this experience was rushed, and the Eye had a dilemma.
Not even thousands of thoughtlines provided sufficient clarify. Should it continue feeding? Or deal with the newly arrived Forge? Based on the vessel’s current speed, and the resistance it was meeting from the Void Wraith, the Eye was nearly certain that it could keep the enemy at bay long enough to finish feeding.
For a being to whom time was nearly meaningless, the next ninety seconds were of vital importance. The Eye weighed the possibilities, and chose to take the infinitesimally small chance that the Forge could both get to it in time and do enough damage to kill it. It continued to feed, sucking in tens of millions of humans.
The central cities were empty now, and it had further split each blue tendril into ten smaller ones. Those smaller ones darted between human settlements, each one sucking up hundreds of thousands over the space of a few seconds. Already, the Eye had begun to digest the first humans it had ingested. Already, new thoughtlines were possible.
It continued to feed, exalting in the fresh knowledge, fresh power. Thoughtlines were detached to monitor the approaching Primo vessel, and to keep it apprised of the military battle. Its fleets had been severely damaged by the Forge’s arrival, but still dramatically outnumbered their opponents. Unfortunately, those opponents had retreated within the Helios Sphere.
Only the tightly compact Tigris fleet remained outside the protective Sphere, and they were tearing apart the Void Wraith in their sector. They fought with a tenacity and ferocity that the Eye found surprising. Certainly, the Primo had never demonstrated that kind of fervor. They’d been pragmatic, even in the face of their certain extinction.
That caused a stray thoughtline, lamenting what had happened to Tigrana. So much biomass wasted in a pointless orbital bombardment. Still, the Eye had feasted on Jaguara, and that had given it a taste of Tigris cunning. It cut off that thoughtline, returning its focus to the task at hand. It needed seventy-eight more seconds to depopulate this hemisphere.
The Tigris were pushing through the Void Wraith line, the Void Wraith buckling as the Forge delivered another barrage. Several Tigris harvesters darted out from the main body, toward the last Primo vessel, the one commanded by vessel Celendra.
64
Release
The First Light shuddered under another railgun impact, and Celendra barely caught herself against the railing.
“Shield down to twelve percent,” Jaranta said, staring worriedly at the small crack in the dome above them.
“Order all drones to assault the lead vessel,” Celendra said, making a risky decision. It was their only chance of survival. “All power to the engines. Make for the Helios Gate.”
Running was dangerous, but in this instance it was the right choice. Drones pivoted from their targets, zipping over to the lead pursuer, a human destroyer. The vessel fired round after round, most from its smaller railguns. Then the main gun spoke, and the First Light shuddered again. Another crack spread across the dome.
The drones answered in kind, savaging the destroyer’s engines. The ship slowed, its smaller cannons rotating to engage the new threats. The First Light continued to accelerate, opening a gap between itself and the destroyer. It was now far enough away that there was no way for a human vessel to catch them.
“Our last drone has been destroyed,” Jaranta said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Massive damage to over eighty percent of the ship. The First Light may never fly again, after this day.”
That saddened Celendra. She’d spent six decades aboard the First Light, four as her Voice. This place was more than a ship; it was a home. Home to a culture that was about to disappear forever. It ate at her that she’d been subverted by the enemy, but at least some tiny part of the Primo would survive the day. They could make it safely to the Helios Gate, where they could find somewhere to refit.
Celendra was shocked when three harvesters materialized off the prow. She stared out the dome at the one directly above, powerless to stop the immense ball of blue plasma gathering between the wing tips.
She knew who it was. It could be no one else. Fizgig had come to administer justice. Not vengeance—this wouldn’t be personal. It was an unpleasant task that the Tigris would perform dutifully.
Celendra gave a beatific smile, willing the comm to open a channel to the harvester. “Thank you for releasing me, Fizgig.”
Three balls of plasma shot into the bridge. Celendra died in the second impact, vaporized by the blast that tore apart the First Light and ended the Primo’s mighty fleet.
65
Nolan's Run
“Ship, engage the enhanced cloaking system,” Nolan ordered, walking the last half-dozen paces into the harvester’s shuttle bay. The harvester itself was still inside the Forge’s shuttle bay, sheltered from the battle raging outside.
“You sure that thing’s going to work, sir?” Hannan asked, quietly, so the others wouldn’t hear. Annie and Kathryn were laughing at something Edwards had said, not far from the crackling blue energy curtain on the far
side of the hangar.
“No,” Nolan admitted. He met her gaze, taking a stealth belt from the wall and buckling it on. “The only proof we have is that it seemed to work for the Forge when we arrived in system. Will it work for us, too? Hopefully we don’t find out the hard way that it doesn’t.”
“I still feel like we should be going after Dryker,” Hannan said, eyeing him sidelong as they walked toward the others.
“You’re saying that because we owe the old man,” Nolan said, eyeing her back without giving an inch. “You’re loyal, like me. He doesn’t deserve this, especially knowing that we can save him.” Nolan nodded toward Kathryn for emphasis.
“So why are we here? Couldn’t some of the Tigris take out Mendez?” Hannan asked, but with less heat in her voice.
“Do you really want to trust someone else to do this?” Nolan snapped, letting the stress get to him. “Listen, Hannan. Fizgig will take care of Dryker—you have my word on that. But we have a job to do. Mendez commands the Void Wraith. Stop him, and we stop the Void Wraith. Doing that will save countless lives, and not just on Earth.”
“I know.” Hannan looked away, rejoining the others.
Nolan dropped back half a step, waiting until Hannan had reached the others before speaking. He used his best parade voice. “Uh-ten-tion.”
There was a half-second of stunned silence, and then the entire squad snapped to order. They held a perfect salute, every last one of them.