“Just got one more question for you, Cap,” Bull said. “Say the SRE is corrupt past the point of redemption. We’ll pretty well be screwed. Only allies we got are a few Melarrey ships and the Mechanics. But after almost being kicked off Meck’ara, you think we really stand a chance of getting their help?”
Tag took another sip of the C’reen Dahl. “I won’t take no for an answer.”
Bull smiled. It was almost unnerving on the marine’s usually grim face. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Tag opened his mouth to respond, but his words were lost in a storm of ear-grating, screeching metal. At first, he assumed the band had launched into the opening song of their next set. But a Mechanic near him jumped, her eyes wide and searching the room. Others threw themselves under tables and yelled in alarm. Coren knocked his stool back as his hand shot toward his holstered pulse pistol. Before Tag could ask Coren what was going on, the roar of alarms blasted through the city.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Get to the Argo!” Tag bellowed.
He had no idea what was going on, but he’d rather face it in the ship than on foot. The crew joined him as he charged out of the bar. Transport pods whooshed around them, but soon even the pods’ automated paths were blocked by the roadways clotted by Mechanics rushing for safety. The undersea cities of the mechanics had been built with a network of shelters. They were designed to protect citizens in case the multi-layered polyglass bubbles keeping the water out became compromised.
Never in Mechanic history had a single bubble city failed.
Tag prayed to the gods that record would remain untarnished. He dodged a Mechanic running with two children under his arms, and another helping along one hobbled by age. With his wrist terminal, he called up his closest ally in the Mechanic Enclave outside Coren.
“Bracken,” Tag said. “What’s going on?”
Her face appeared on his screen. Behind her he saw a scene no less chaotic than the one he was experiencing. “We’ve got Drone-Mech ships incoming,” the captain said.
The grav wave generator at the Lacklon Institute was supposed to protect Meck’ara and its entire solar system from Drone-Mechs by blocking all signals to their nanite antennae. They shouldn’t have been able to so much as walk, much less launch an attack on the planet.
“What? How?”
“We aren’t sure yet. The Grand Elector has ordered all ships to report in. I’m taking the Stalwart up.”
“Count us in,” Tag said, before signing off.
The darkness of simulated night in the city had already been broken by the glare of emergency lights, but something from above glared even brighter. A flash of blood red, followed by a streak of orange and brilliant blue. Tag’s heart beat faster than a ship booming into hyperspace. He recognized those lights.
“A ship’s just been destroyed!” Sumo cried out.
Drone-Mech or free Mechanic, Tag couldn’t say. The explosion had been much too close to Deep Origin for Tag’s comfort. The resulting shockwaves tore through the surrounding water, marked by a plume of white bubbles that slammed against the outer dome. The whole city shook. Glass shattered somewhere near them, raining down like miniature knives. Screams filled the artificial night.
“Come on,” he yelled. “We’ve got to help!”
They ran for the Argo, churned on by the panic of the crowd and another booming explosion overhead. The ground trembled, knocking Tag off his feet. He stumbled, catching himself with his hands, and pain radiated through his bones before the surging adrenaline masked it. He heard more shrieks and the boom of another smaller explosion bursting from a building nearby. Smoke and debris filled the air in a rolling cloud that rumbled toward Tag and his crew.
As the dust settled, Tag looked up to see the first spiderweb of cracks spreading across the outer layer of the polyglass dome.
“No,” Coren said. “By the machines, no.”
More brilliant flashes of orange and blue and red streaked through the water. Soon those were lost as the crew barreled into the ship bay. Nearby, Mechanic crewmen streamed to their own ships, and the steady blast of impellers warmed the air around the bay as ship after ship took off to join the ongoing battle.
The gleaming curves of the Argo appeared before them, and Tag’s vision became tunneled as he focused on the ship. He sprinted into the waiting maw of the cargo bay. His crew didn’t need any commands to know exactly what to do. While the marines split off to their crash couches below deck, Tag led the bridge crew up the ladders and to their positions. He jumped into the captain’s station.
There was a yowl, and a sudden, sharp pain in his backside.
“Damn it, Lucky!” Tag yelled at the six-legged, catlike creature in his crash couch, her favorite resting spot when he wasn’t around. “Go to your cage.”
The Rizzar looked up at him with green eyes, round and wide like she was begging to stay and help them.
“Go on!”
She slunk away, smart enough to understand he meant business, and Tag settled into his seat. His fingers danced across his terminal as Sofia engaged manual control of the Argo and Alpha initiated power flow to the engines. Coren had all the weapons charging and ready to go before Tag even gave the command for them to lift off.
“Energy shields are at one hundred percent, and all impellers are online,” Alpha said.
“Sofia, take her up!” Tag commanded.
The roar of the impellers shook through the bulkhead as the Argo rocketed up toward the first open port. An enormous crash sounded behind them as the first lock closed. Water filled the massive chamber, equalizing the pressure. Another hatch released them into the ocean.
“All shields up!” Tag roared. “Contacts?”
“Searching, Captain,” Alpha reported.
A holomap appeared in the middle of the bridge as she scanned the waters around them. Tag didn’t need the Argo’s computer system or the holo to know they had just injected themselves into the middle of a chaotic battle. Husks of broken Mechanic ships drifted toward the seafloor, joining those already resting amid the sand and rock like long-abandoned shipwrecks. Bubbles streamed from some, and jets of plasma glowed from others. Tag’s stomach lurched as he recognized debris floating through carnage that didn’t belong to the ships: Mechanic bodies.
“Any survivors?” Tag asked.
Several other Mechanic ships popped out of the Deep Origin seaport, joining the Argo amid the wreckage.
“I am not able to detect any viable signals,” Alpha said.
Something stabbed deep within Tag’s gut, twisting painfully. So many lives lost in such a short time. How had this happened?
“Are these Drone-Mechs or free Mechanics?” Tag asked as Sofia took the Argo around a battlecruiser that had been split open like a skull broken by a club.
“All signs point toward free Mechanics,” Alpha replied. “The insignia match those of free Mechanic ships docked within Deep Origin.”
“Then where are the Drone-Mechs?” Tag asked. “Patch me through to Bracken.”
A moment later, Bracken appeared on his holoscreen. “We need you at the surface,” she said without preamble.
“You got contacts there?”
“You could say that,” Bracken said.
Tag looked at Sofia. “Let’s get up there.”
Sofia pulled the controls back, and inertia tugged at Tag’s body as the Argo rocketed upward until the dampeners kicked in. The deep indigo and black of the oceanic depths gave way to a cerulean glow as they neared the surface. Then, with a cascading explosion of frothy water, they burst into the air. Amid a swarm of green specks on their holomap representing the free Mechanic ships, a storm of crimson dots was moving at speeds much faster than what Tag would have expected for an invasion of warships.
“We’ve got incoming missiles,” Bracken reported over the comms. “We’re getting reports that this is happening all over the planet. Someone is going after all the surviving free Mechanic cities. Target and destroy whatev
er you can.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tag said. “Coren?”
Coren fired off a screen of chaff. The point defense cannons boomed to life in a staccato rhythm, sending ropes of pearly orange fire into the air to meet the incoming ordnance. Pulsefire lanced from the Mechanic ships all around them, surging up in relentless volleys. A few sites along the planet’s surface launched counter-missiles. The plume of smoke and the glare of missiles and torpedoes might have been mistaken for a meteor shower.
Somewhere above them, Tag saw the blink of lights from the defensive satellites orbiting the planet. Just as quickly, several of the corresponding dots on the holomap winked out, disappearing as if they’d never existed.
This wasn’t an attack. It was a massacre.
A host of Mechanic ships floated above a coastal city, forming a wall of alloy and guns. Though dozens of missiles and torpedoes disappeared into a black mist above them, many still plunged through the hail of defensive fire.
“Oh no,” Sofia murmured, even as she maneuvered the Argo.
One of the Mechanic corvettes blasted toward an incoming missile, all guns blazing. But though its weapons never hit the missile, the ship itself did. Chunks of melted alloy and tendrils of smoke exploded from the resulting ball of fire like shrapnel from a grenade. The concussive force of the blast buffeted the Argo, and Tag saw Sofia visibly struggle to keep their ship righted. Now Tag understood why he had seen all that wreckage in the sea. While the Mechanics were doing everything in their power to stop the attack before it reached cities full of hapless civilians, sometimes even their technology couldn’t compete against the onslaught. The best they could do was throw their own ships against the incoming ordnance in a suicidal last-ditch effort. “The machine remembers,” Coren said as what was left of the brave crew disappeared into the sea.
Once again, Mechanic pragmatism prevailed. Better to sacrifice one ship with a crew of dozens then let an entire city perish, especially as the civilization was struggling to rebuild itself from the ashes of what the Drone-Mechs had left behind. But Tag’s thoughts couldn’t linger long on the Mechanics who had just sacrificed their lives. Above him and his crew came a dark shroud of incoming missiles. Desperate Mechanic ships raced underneath the volley, firing back in bursts.
Morbid thoughts flashed through Tag’s mind as Coren fired the PDC cannons. How long could the Mechanics hold this defense? If they failed, if Meck’ara was destroyed, then one of his only allies would be lost forever. Without the Mechanics, Tag feared the fight against the Collectors would be lost before it began.
He tried to push those thoughts out of his mind. The smoke trails of the incoming missiles expanded in the viewscreen. A layer of sweat formed along Tag’s back as he watched the Mechanic gunner at work. There had to be something more he could do to help.
“Alpha, activate all shields,” Tag said.
“Aye, Captain,” Alpha said coolly.
She primed the energy shields. A haze of green crackled over the viewscreen before turning invisible as the shields stabilized. Tag prayed to all the gods that they wouldn’t need the shields. He didn’t want the Argo to end up just another wreck on the ocean floor. Despite their best efforts and those of their Mechanic compatriots, the rain of missiles was still falling. It seemed for every missile or torpedo they eliminated, another two entered the atmosphere.
“Whoever planned this attack has done so with mathematical precision,” Alpha remarked. “The missiles are spaced almost perfectly. Dense enough to overwhelm, but at the same time far enough apart to avoid collateral explosions when one is knocked out.”
“Thanks,” Sofia said. “That makes me feel much better.”
Alpha shot Tag a bemused expression, clearly confused by Sofia’s sarcasm.
Tag shook his head. “I’ll explain the concept of a smartass later, Alpha. Just focus on keeping our shields hot.”
“Yes sir, Captain.”
“Cap, anything we can do?” Bull asked over the comms. “We’re getting a little tired of watching the fireworks.”
“Pray, if you believe any of the gods are listening, or call in some reinforcements I don’t know about.”
“Afraid I can’t do much about either,” Bull said.
Tag eyed the incoming missiles. PDC fire sprayed upward along with the spreadshots from the pulse cannon. A curtain of chaff glittered, reflecting both the sunlight and the explosions as missiles connected with their targets. More puffs of smoke and fire bloomed in the distance. Tag barely had time to watch the Mechanic ships flanking the Argo adjust their own defensive measures in response to the incoming salvo.
“Come on, come on,” Coren said, hunching over his terminal. His fingers continued their swift dance, every move calculated within milliseconds, far faster than any human could react.
And still it wasn’t enough. Some of the red dots on the holomap vanished, but others continued their approach, closing the distance between themselves and Deep Origin. If just one of those missiles scored a direct hit, the entirety of the free Mechanics’ freshly reorganized government would vanish. All Tag’s closest Mechanic allies would disappear in a violent blast of plasma and radiation before being swallowed by the waiting ocean.
I can’t let that happen, he thought. Regardless of what the Mechanics thought of him and his crew, regardless of how many members of the council had voted to exile him just hours before, humanity desperately needed an ally in the war with the Collectors, and the Mechanics might be the only goddamned civilization with the capability to fulfill that role.
And of course, there was the matter of species-wide genocide on his mind. He couldn’t bear to see the Mechanics wiped out like this, whether they believed he was on their side or not.
Alarms suddenly blared across the deck, and crimson emergency lights flashed their violent glare. One of the missiles had separated from the pack. Coren readjusted his fire to target it, then launched a bevy of the Argo’s own torpedoes in a desperate effort to intercept. The missile had plummeted past several of the Mechanic ships, narrowly missing one and skimming the energy shields of another. Now the only thing standing between it and the dome protecting Deep Origin was the Argo.
Tag took a precious second to consider the irony. If a handful of the council had voted differently that morning, Tag wouldn’t be here to issue the order that would doom his crew but save Deep Origin. The ultimate sacrifice to protect the future of Meck’ara.
The future of mankind.
“Sofia,” Tag said. “Whatever happens, do not let that missile hit Deep Origin.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“There are some kind of jamming signals preventing the computer from auto-locking onto the target,” Coren said as he tried to take out the missile with more PDC fire.
“Alpha, can you work around it?” Tag asked.
“I will make an attempt,” she said.
The column of black smoke trailing the missile drew a straight line toward the Argo.
“I am finding it difficult to decode the interfering signals,” Alpha said in her usual droid-calm tone despite the imminent danger they faced. “However, they do appear similar to signals previously intercepted from the Drone-Mechs.”
“Damn it,” Tag said.
So far, they hadn’t actually seen any Drone-Mech ships, but Tag guessed the enslaved fleets were probing the boundaries created by the grav-wave generator on Meck’ara. The sheer number of warheads careening toward the planet made Tag wonder just how many Drone-Mechs still lurked out there, doing the Collectors’ bidding. Certainly, it was no trivial number.
A violent flash of light interrupted Tag’s thoughts, followed by a resounding boom. The groans of bulkheads resonated throughout the bridge, and for a moment, the viewscreen gave way to a blizzard of static. As soon as the viewscreen recovered, it showed a cloud of spreading smoke and vapor from the rapid expansion of heated gases. Coren actually hooted in triumph. “Little close for comfort,” Sofia said. “With your Mechanic prowess, shoul
dn’t you have been able to take out the missiles faster than that?”
“If someone could hold the ship steady for a bit, maybe I could,” he said.
“Everyone okay down there?” Tag called over the comms to the marines.
“Might need some fresh pants,” Lonestar drawled.
“We’re still in the air, right?” Sumo asked.
“Still flying and”—Tag looked at Alpha giving him a metallic thumbs-up—“and all systems are functional. Hold tight.”
Another missile was headed toward the Argo. It was just a few hundred klicks away.
“Take it out,” Tag commanded.
Both Coren and the Mechanic ship fired on the missile, but they were either too late or their aim was off. For a moment, nothing changed as the missile stabbed into the ship. Then both disappeared in a spray of slagged alloy and rolling fire. The concussive force of the blast slammed the Argo, once again knocking out the viewscreen. Tag could practically feel the heat wave roll over them until the Argo settled.
Once it did, alarms bleated. At first Tag feared something—the shields, the weapons systems, the T-drive—had been knocked out by the explosion. Blinking out of his disorientation, he saw it was a proximity warning. Focused on helping the Mechanic ship, they had missed a new threat coming straight for them.
“Coren!” Tag yelled.
The Mechanic immediately swiveled his aim, nearly standing from his crash couch as he sought to bring down the missile spiraling erratically toward them. It was too close. Even if Coren managed to hit it, the ship would still be caught in the blast. But if they dropped too low before taking out the threat, they’d run the risk of fracturing Deep Origin’s dome. There would be no escaping damage now—it was just a matter of minimizing it.
Rebel World (The Eternal Frontier Book 4) Page 3