Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity

by Adams, David

  Operations

  TFR Washington

  Space above Velsharn

  Anderson almost ordered the Silk Jaguar to destroy the escape pods. Almost. But Wolfe had made a good point—corpses had no value to them. They had heaps of those.

  "The Silk Jaguar is ETA four minutes," said Wolfe. "They say they have thirty-two Toralii prisoners."

  "That seems… low. What happened to the rest?"

  Wolfe inspected the radar. "They're still in their pods, which have fallen into a stable orbit. Probably how they're programmed. We can pick them up later. The ones we got were taken from a damaged pod."

  "Wounded?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Very well. Have medical meet them in the hangar bay." It stung him to order it, but they were obligated to treat them now that they had saved them.

  It was strange. They had been at war moments earlier, and now they were saving each other. It fought against his primal, basic instinct. To destroy his enemies. Kill that which was trying to kill him.

  "Sir," said Cole, his voice charged with energy. "The Alliance ships are shifting formation."

  "How so?" Wolfe moved over to Cole's console and inspected his readouts.

  "They're… withdrawing."

  It was a simple statement of fact, but its implications were profound. He needed to know. "Confirm that." Anderson struggled to keep the excitement out of his voice. "Check with the Madrid. Is the Toralii Alliance pulling back?"

  "Surface bombardment has ceased, and the ships that are ambulatory are breaking formation and making for the L2 jump point. They're rabbiting, sir."

  A wild cheer went up throughout Operations. Anderson was unable to contain his relief, either, clenching his fist by his side and slowly relaxing it. "Good work, good work. Status report on the Tehran?"

  "Aflame on several decks," said Cole. "I can't raise them on any frequency, but they're holding position inside Velsharn's atmosphere. They appear to have sustained critical damage, but… they're still floating, sir."

  That was all they could have asked for.

  De Lugo's voice came through his headset. "Captain Anderson, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

  "If you're seeing the tattered and broken remains of the Alliance fleet turn tail and run, Captain, that's what I'm seeing."

  De Lugo laughed, and Anderson had to resist the urge to do the same. "It's beautiful," de Lugo said. "Never thought I'd see that in my lifetime."

  He nodded, even though the gesture would be lost on the other CO. "Roger that." He lifted his finger. "Mr. Cole, patch me through to the Krekhan."

  It took a moment, and when he made the connection, the line was full of static.

  ["This is Worldleader Evek."] The Toralii's breathing was heavy, pained. ["I apologise for the delay, but my windwhisper operator is dead."]

  "How can we assist you, Worldleader?"

  His voice was full of fire. ["The Toralii Alliance show us their true colours, Captain, and retreat. My vessel is adrift, my fleet scattered… but take what ships we have, hunt them. Do not let them escape. Tear open their hulls, and show them the pain of the void."]

  "So much for compassion," Anderson murmured. Then, louder, "Confirmed. Bringing our navigation systems up for link. We'll continue fire support. Move out towards the L2 point, strafing those remaining ships as we go."

  ["Very good, Captain. Leave us. We have sustained a great deal of damage and will require some time to repair. Trust in the strength of your ships."]

  "I will. Washington out." He nodded to Wolfe. "We retrieve the prisoners from the Silk Jaguar then send it to the Tehran. Give them any assistance we can offer. Find out what their status is." He brought up the long-range radar on his console, staring at it intently. "Now it's our turn to hunt."

  The Washington and the Madrid moved together, the stricken Tehran unable to join them. The two remaining Human ships sailed towards the L2 Lagrange point, sending slug after slug down their railguns, over half the Telvan fleet joining them. It was slow going, travelling through space firing barrage after barrage. Anderson's job was to monitor the repetition.

  Aim.

  Load.

  Fire.

  Manoeuvre.

  Repeat.

  The cycle continued until the Tehran and the Washington ran dry on missiles, leaving only their railgun slugs. The space between Velsharn and its moon was a corridor of fire. They scored countless hits, chipping away at their fleeing attackers, and then the Alliance fleet slipped beyond the edge of Velsharn's moon, protected by the planet's mass.

  They had been fighting for nearly four hours in a state of perpetual excitement and fear, but now they had a moment to relax. He was reluctant to let down his guard, but adrenaline could only last for so long. And he was out of coffee.

  "Report," Anderson said, trying to keep the energy of the room up.

  "At the current rate of acceleration, the Alliance fleet will reach the rendezvous point before we can obtain a firing solution."

  "Can we slingshot rounds around the planet?"

  "Not with any degree of accuracy," said Wolfe, "and not at a velocity where they won't be able to just move out of the way."

  "Can we jump and fill the L1 point?"

  "Yes, if you want to be the only thing between all the remaining Alliance ships and their escape."

  "No, thank you. Wound a dog, back it into a corner with no way out, and that's when it'll bite the hardest. No matter how much we've hit them, those are still Toralii cruisers out there. Taking stupid risks is just that. Stupid. We need another option."

  But none was forthcoming. His Operations staff was out of options, and so was he.

  "Damn. Dammit, dammit, dammit." He lowered his head, thinking for a moment. "What if we pushed the reactionless drives?"

  "Pushed them how?" asked Wolfe. "An over-spec acceleration?"

  "That's what I was thinking. Might make things a mite uncomfortable around here, but we might be able to catch up with those bastards before they jump out of the system."

  Wolfe touched his beard as he thought. "The crew will be combat ineffective at greater than safe limits. I wouldn't recommend anything more than a half-g burn. Anything more will take an unacceptable time to recover from."

  "It will," said Anderson, "but we're pretty damn ineffective right now. I'd rather have some chance than none at all."

  "I'm inclined to agree. Bear in mind, however, the superstructure's sustained significant damage and may be structurally compromised. There's the possibility of worsening the damage if we push it."

  Wolfe, as always, brought up good points. That was the purpose of a ship's XO, to trust the ship's commander but to verify their orders. Trust but verify. That was the philosophy.

  "We should risk it," Anderson decided. "There hasn't been critical damage, and these things are rated for much more than a half-g. We'll give the crew as much notice as we can."

  "Let's do it then." Wolfe reached for the ship-wide intercom. "Attention all hands, priority alert. We are going for a half-g burn in one minute. All hands adopt emergency brace positions and hold them until further notice. There will be no additional audio warnings."

  "Is one minute going to be enough?" asked Anderson.

  "Standard response time is thirty seconds. This crew is the best of the best, Captain. If they can't emergency brace in double the bare minimum, we have bigger problems."

  "Agreed."

  Wolfe relayed their plan to the Madrid, a process that took some time. De Lugo sounded less eager than they did, but he acknowledged they had little choice.

  Anderson pulled a thin cable out from the console, hooking it to his belt. Wolfe did the same. This was a new feature of the second generation of Triumph class cruisers. To the best of his knowledge, the Tehran and Beijing had not been retrofitted for the feature. Wolfe followed his lead, securing himself as well.

  The rest of the Operations crew followed their lead, either belting themselves into their seats or attaching in a st
anding position using the safety cables. They both took a hold of their console, and then Wolfe addressed the Operations room as the last few seconds ticked by.

  "Helm, engage half-g burn, duration five minutes, maintain speed and heading."

  "Half-g burn, five minutes, current speed and heading. Executing."

  The ship shuddered and shook like a bronco, the deck pitching back. For a moment, Anderson wondered if they had physically bent the ship. Such motion of metal was a common occurrence in large structures such as skyscrapers, and the long, thin, wedge-shaped Triumph class cruisers were subject to the same laws of physics. The ship bent, then straightened out as the reactionless drive pushed them faster.

  Anderson's coffee mug slid off the console and shattered, the shards sliding back towards the far bulkhead. Wolfe gave him a dirty "I told you so" look. Anderson twisted around, inspecting the shards with dismay, and then just shrugged helplessly.

  The Humans went one way around Velsharn's moon, and the Telvan went the other, both trying to get a clear line on the L2 Lagrange point. They worked their way past the curve of the moon's surface, the reactionless drives straining as they continued to accelerate. Anderson was gambling on overshooting. The Toralii would have to slow down before jumping, whereas they would not.

  The burn took only five minutes, but when it ended, Anderson's belt had left a distinct mark in his hip. He unhooked himself, readjusting his posture and rubbing the indentation.

  "Burn complete," said Wolfe. He picked up the intercom. "All hands return to stations."

  "Do we have a firing solution? Did it work?"

  "A little too well," said Wolfe. "We're awfully exposed here. They're firing."

  The familiar rumble of incoming fire shook the ship once again.

  "So shoot back," said Anderson. "We know where they're heading—that's gotta make the shots easier."

  "Much."

  The gamble paid off. A Toralii cruiser suffered a catastrophic failure of its hull integrity, blossoming into a silent fireball in the middle of space that flashed white as the oxygen within the ship was consumed, but the rest of the ships sailed through the debris towards the L2 Lagrange point.

  The waves of incoming fire ceased. He knew why. The Alliance were diverting power from their weapons to the jump drives, preparing to execute the system.

  Just under half the Toralii Alliance fleet was going to escape. The idea rankled him, but they had inflicted significant casualties on their enemies and, just as importantly, sent them running. As the enemy ships drew close to their avenue of escape, he satisfied himself with the victories he and his crew had won today.

  Then Cole spoke up again, confusion in his voice. "Another ship has entered the Velsharn L2 Lagrange point, Captain."

  He wanted to fire right away, but protocol called for prudence. "Identification?"

  "Radar profile matches a Toralii scout ship. Confirmed—there's a Toralii signature there."

  A scout ship. They were smaller than the cruisers, and the jump drives took some time to recharge their capability. They might only be able to scratch the cruisers as they fled, but this craft would not escape them. "Load railguns, prepare to fire."

  His communications officer turned in his seat, his finger to his earpiece.

  "Sir, they're vacating the jump point. Another ship has appeared… and this one matches the profile of the Kel-Voran cruisers."

  "Kel-Voran?" Anderson frowned in confusion. "What? Toralii and Kel-Voran jumping in together?"

  "Perhaps it's a coincidence," said Wolfe.

  "If so, we're in for one hell of a fireworks display. They're not exactly team players." Anderson reached up for his headset. "Put me through to that Toralii ship. I want to talk to them."

  Before they could establish communication, another signal came through. One with a familiar voice.

  "Morning, gentlemen," said Captain Williams. "Hope we didn't miss the party."

  "Magnet?" Anderson glanced across to Wolfe, who shrugged. "We… didn't think you had escaped Earth. We've heard no word from the Rubens since the attack."

  "Oh, we got away just fine, sir. We've been hanging out with the Kel-Voran Imperium. It took some time, but we finally convinced them that the Telvan wouldn't mind them being here too much and that there might be Toralii Alliance to brawl with. Looks like we're going to cash in that promise a little earlier than we anticipated."

  "Fashionably late is better than not showing up at all, and your timing is, in fact, perfect." Anderson looked to Wolfe for confirmation of his unspoken question. His XO nodded. "Captain Williams, the Toralii ships retreating to your location are the fleet responsible for the attack on Earth, minus the casualties we have inflicted upon them. We have sufficient numbers of prisoners, taken from the Seth'arak, and I feel our charity has been stretched to its limit. Engage those ships."

  An eager energy charged Williams's Australian accent. "Yes sir."

  "Let me be clear about one thing, Captain: The taking of further prisoners under any circumstances is not authorised."

  "That's quite helpful," said Williams, "since the Rubens is just a freighter, so Kel-Voran will be doing much of the heavy lifting here. As you well know, they don't exactly 'do' prisoners."

  More Kel-Voran ships appeared in the system at the L4 and L5 points. Their dreadnoughts, each a 200,000 tonne half of a whole, began reforming. The moment the two halves re-joined, they commenced firing at the Alliance ships.

  The Alliance vessels, realising the jump point was occupied, executed what Anderson could only assume were a series of emergency brakes. One broke free of the pack, seeming to race for the jump point; the dreadnoughts engulfed it in a withering, sustained array of fire, the searing white light breaking it apart.

  The Telvan cleared the edge of Velsharn's moon, rejoining the fray. Anderson only had to watch as the Kel-Voran, the Telvan, the Rubens, Madrid and his own vessel fired over and over, pouring fire into the Toralii Alliance vessels from three directions. There was no cover. No manoeuvres their enemies could perform that would protect them. Ship after ship broke apart, ignited in a fiery conflagration, or simply drifted aimlessly, all power signatures slowly dissipating.

  Signals from individual Alliance cruisers filled the long-range communications array. Calls for cease-fires and requests for parley. Terms of surrender. Mercy.

  Surrender was a strange term. An enemy would try their best to kill you, and having failed, they would ask you not to kill them. Accepting a surrender was prudent when two opposing sides shared common cultural ground, where the soldiers involved did not want to kill unnecessarily, but it did not apply when righteous indignation overrode compassion. The only thing Anderson felt as he tapped his command console, carefully coordinating the growing network of ships to pound the Alliance ships into scrap, was satisfaction.

  His orders were clear. They were to exterminate the Toralii Alliance to the last.

  The Kel-Voran were more than happy to comply. They gleefully blasted the Alliance escape pods, smoking wrecks and ejected pilots. They needed no encouragement. The contacts on Anderson's radar screen winked out one by one as the Kel-Voran and remaining Telvan ships cut down the Toralii Alliance.

  The attacks did not stop. They did not relent. Waves of fire cut the Alliance down, ship by ship, strike craft by strike craft, the combined firepower of the three species blasting each of the Toralii cruisers to oblivion. Wrecks were smashed into smaller wrecks, then again into smaller wrecks, until the escaping Toralii fleet was nothing more than a slowly expanding cloud of superheated debris, gasses, and secondary explosions.

  When it was over, their railguns were empty of ammunition, their crew exhausted from hours of fighting, and Wolfe, Anderson and the rest of the Operations crew of the TFR Washington could find no piece of the enemy that remained worthy of destruction. Millions of tonnes of material had been destroyed, tens of thousands of Toralii lives annihilated. They surveyed the scene together. Dozens of vessels were in ruins, melted, scorched
, shattered, and venting the last of their atmosphere into the vastness of space.

  "I think we got them," said Wolfe.

  EPILOGUE

  Broken Things

  *****

  Cave system outside Eden

  A MASSIVE DOSE OF MORPHINE, I.V. antibiotics, and fluids brought her agony down to a dull roar. The painkillers urged her to sleep, but she was still in too much pain for that. Even lying on the sheet, its white linen irrevocably stained with her blood, caused her body to cry in protest. Without the drugs, it would have been unbearable.

  She existed in a state halfway between consciousness and shock-induced coma. The world was distant and ghostly, as though the figures that crowded around her were no more than figments in her mind.

  Liao did not have to ask how badly she was injured, and nobody offered platitudes to reassure her. It was bad. The civilians around her looked at her with concern, sadness, and pity. People cried, although their exact motivations for doing so eluded her. Their whispers came and went, voices echoing in the cavern, talking about her as if she was already gone.

  Someone gave her water. She could barely sip it, but the cool was good against her lips.

  The voices expressed a concern that fire might spread up the mountains to their cave, but the rain proved to be their saviour. The hills, so verdant and rich, would not burn. The heat of the falling plasma had scorched the closest plants, bursting them as the water within turned to steam and the suddenly dry biomass ignited, but those flames would not spread. The surrounding mountains funnelled water into the valley, and Eden would not become the same ash-ridden, dead land the Velsharn Research Colony had.

  As time passed and the noise outside quieted, those near the entrance reported that the bombardment outside had ceased. They should remain inside the caves; there could be any number of reasons for the lull in the rain of fire, and it could be dangerous to leave.

  For her, though, it was far more dangerous to stay. Saeed organised the construction of a rudimentary stretcher, and two civilians drafted as bearers took her outside into the rain. The cool water fell onto her scorched skin, the contact painful to her damaged flesh but the cool sensation soothing. She was soon drenched through and completely thankful for it.