One of the smaller Imperial carriers suddenly haemorrhaged, a tremendous force bursting forth from its bow. The ship began to come apart very quickly after that, splitting and firing chunks in all directions. One of the energy parcels containing Dragon’s destructive matter had clearly formed a point within the ship itself, going off like a bomb. There were bursts from smaller craft as they too went up, the waves of energy eroding their shields and armour, and taking them down. Other larger warships began to follow, with many attempting to escape from the explosions that were going off all around them. The outcome of the TSB couldn’t have been more perfect.
Dodds watched the results until a nearby explosion prompted him to take necessary action. He had thought that he was well out of range of the TSB, certainly according to what had been discussed in the meeting before. The reach of the device had apparently been underestimated. Something aboard Dragon had proved to be a far more effective catalyst than had been anticipated.
Dodds responded accordingly, swinging around and accelerating away from the danger zone. As he did so, he saw a Sphinx hurtle past him. It was covered in different markings from the others. Zackaria. Dodds hadn’t seen how, but the man had clearly pursued him from Dragon, intent on bringing him down. But now, with the bombs detonating all around him, he too had chosen to flee the area. Dodds adjusted his heading, putting himself on a similar course to the admiral – heading for open space. It wouldn’t be difficult for Dodds to catch up with him, the speed of his ATAF far exceeding that of the heavy-class Imperial fighter.
Dodds was closing when a boom went off adjacent to Zackaria’s Sphinx, knocking it off course. It appeared to have impacted the fighter’s engines, as they cut out immediately, the familiar cyan glow of the ion drive fading away to nothing, and the fighter started to tumble helplessly. Dodds changed his heading once more to go after it, just as another explosion went off, once again striking the Sphinx. Pieces of the fighter snapped off, wings and struts being ripped from their housing, before the fighter careered at high speed in a totally new direction – towards the orbital station.
How unlucky was that? Dodds thought. He adjusted again and sped after the Sphinx, intent on catching it before it hit the station. He soon discovered that it was moving almost as fast as the ATAF’s maximum speed, the result of explosions catapulting it at a tremendous velocity. It was clear that it was going to strike the station; though this might not prove totally devastating, Dodds felt he must act, both to prevent damage to the station and to bring Zackaria in alive.
“That Sphinx has Admiral Zackaria aboard,” he communicated as he chased the fighter down. “I’m going to try and stop it.”
It took him some time to catch up with the Sphinx. Once there, he lined the fighter up in his crosshairs, falling back on the tether he had used to snag the remains of the Dumb Waiter. The idea was that he would snag the craft and pull it in a different direction, before working on slowing both craft.
The result was different.
He landed the grapple without any problems, the Sphinx a far larger target than the TSB had been. But as he turned to pull the Sphinx from its collision course, he felt a sudden, unexpected yank. There was a grinding and scraping from somewhere beneath him, and he saw the base of the grappling hook spiralling away, still attached to the Sphinx. The action had slowed the fighter significantly, but not enough to stop it entirely. They were barely a few dozen metres from the station now.
Dodds was trying to warn the orbital that the fighter was still on its collision course, when he saw the Sphinx crash through the glass dome of the orbital’s main garden. The impact caused immediate depressurisation and a confetti of multicoloured items spilled through the shattered glass.
For a moment, Dodds did nothing but watch the Sphinx tumble towards the ground. He then brought his engines back up and dived into the gardens after it.
XXV
— Until Proven Guilty —
Dodds spotted the wreckage of the Sphinx as he set down. As it impacted the ground, the fighter had chiselled in the soil a trench now decorated with diverse parts broken off the ruined craft. Dodds thought it a testament to Mitikas engineering that the Sphinx hadn’t gone up in the crash. Not yet, anyway.
He saw that the blast screens of the gardens were closing, sealing them off from open space. He popped the ATAF’s canopy the moment they had done so, finding the air in the garden thin and wanting, almost as lacking as it had been on Dragon when he had first removed his helmet. But he would make do with what was available – the emergency systems would restore things to their appropriate levels in a few minutes. For now, he had only one task – find Zackaria. Dodds hadn’t seen the man as he had set down, having not had a clear view of the Sphinx’s cockpit. He retrieved his pistol before exiting the ATAF, checked it, then prepared to make the rather long jump to the hard ground. Suddenly light-headed, he tipped out of the cockpit, somehow managing to land on his feet before collapsing in a heap, dropping the pistol as he did so. The lack of air was already making him feel dizzy.
He felt a wave of pain shoot through his shoulder as he realised that the Imperial Navy’s ceremonial dagger was still embedded there. He yanked it free, his current light-headedness numbing the pain somewhat. He scooped up the plasma pistol and started towards the Sphinx, training the weapon on the shattered remains.
Dodds came around the side of the cockpit, seeing the canopy open. Zackaria was nowhere to be seen. Could he have ejected just before impact? Dodds doubted it. He would have spotted the admiral floating around in front of the station. Had Zackaria been flung from the craft in the crash? Dodds looked about, trying to trace the path he had seen the Sphinx take as it had entered.
He then saw something not far away – someone propped up against a tree, facing the other way. A quivering hand rested on the ground in support. The glove was off, and Dodds saw that the hand was old and wrinkly.
Got you, you bastard! Dodds approached, rounding the tree and aiming the pistol at the figure resting against the thick trunk.
“No … please,” Zackaria said, raising a shaking hand. “Please, don’t shoot …”
“This is as close to Earth as you’re getting, Admiral,” Dodds announced, feeling tremendous rage building within him.
Zackaria looked about him, then back to Dodds, appearing a little bewildered. “Earth? Is that where we are?”
“Orbital station above it,” Dodds clarified, pushing the gun forward. “But you’re not getting any closer than this, and nor are any of the rest of you.”
“Did … did we win?” Zackaria asked, his voice now trembling as much as his hand.
“No!” Dodds almost shouted, feeling the anger starting to boil within him. “We’ve beaten you! Dragon’s been destroyed! It’s over! You’ve lost!”
“You … managed to stop it? You managed to destroy it?”
There was something in Zackaria’s voice that gave Dodds pause. “Yes …” he said more quietly than before. “Yes.”
“Thank God,” Zackaria said, lowering his eyes to the ground. “I didn’t think you would.”
What? Dodds wondered for a moment if this was a feint. Then he surveyed the man. Zackaria was a mess. His face still bruised from the blows Dodds had dealt him on Dragon, was also bloody and swollen. His legs looked dysfunctional. He had clearly broken a number of bones in the crash and this time they weren’t going to heal. But there was also something there that Dodds hadn’t expected to see – a glistening about the eyes. Was Zackaria weeping?
“You … you failed the Mission,” Dodds finished. He couldn’t even be sure whether he meant it as an accusation of failure or a reassurance of success.
“I’m glad,” the old admiral replied. Something rolled from the man’s eye, sliding down his cheek, clinging there for a time. A tear. He was weeping. Zackaria raised a finger and pointed it at Dodds. “I know you …”
Dodds’ finger twitched on his pistol’s trigger, but he managed to catch himself in time.
>
“You’re Simon Dodds,” Zackaria continued. “You’re one of the pilots who stood up to us. You’re one of those who never ever gave in.”
Dodds tried to reply, but found words suddenly hard to come by. For years he had dreamed of a moment such as this, of standing victorious over the Pandoran army with Zackaria’s life in his hands. But now it was achieved, he found himself unable to revel in it. A heavy weight descended on him, the anger, pride, satisfaction and elation seeping away, replaced only by a feeling that he couldn’t – or maybe – refused to place.
“I remember it all,” Zackaria said, drawing heavy breaths as he spoke. “The destruction of Mitikas, the invasion of the Independents. We took Anthony Hawke, one of your most trusted, and turned him against you, forcing him to tell us all your plans. You were all so brave and noble – willing to sacrifice your own lives, for the sake of billions. It was a good plan, Operation Sudarberg. A pity it didn’t work.” He looked up at Dodds, but his expression was unreadable. “I stood at the helm of Dragon for years, commanding the troops, telling them where to strike, who to kill, to ensure we could complete the Mission.
“You fought us in Aster, nearly won. You, yourself, nearly killed me in Phylent. I was made to feel nothing but contempt for you after that, Simon Dodds. But that wasn’t me. It was those blasted machines. I saw so many join the ranks against their will. All of us puppets, nothing more. I saw it all happen with my own eyes. But I could do nothing. I was a prisoner within my own body.”
Zackaria talked of his desire to escape from the entrapment of the nanomachines, of the Pandoran curse and of how the last nine years had been totally governed by restricted emotions, the need to complete the Mission and his hatred of Simon Dodds. Deep down was the real Jason Zackaria, a captive to the will, wants and rapacious selfishness of the Senate. Dodds listened as the man spoke, finally acknowledging what he felt – pity.
“Is it really all gone?” Zackaria finally asked, looking towards the blast screens. “Did we really destroy it all?”
“Yes,” Dodds said quietly. “Only Earth is left.”
“How many friends have you lost? How many did I kill?”
“I … don’t know,” Dodds said, sensing the man’s colossal guilt. “All I know is that they’re gone forever.”
At that, Zackaria said nothing more and only began weeping in earnest, his whole body shaking. Dodds couldn’t find words to speak, and only stood watching. He lowered the pistol to his side, no longer feeling the need for it. Ever since Peri, he had promised himself that he would never again shoot an innocent man. He wasn’t about to break that promise now.
“I’m so sorry,” Zackaria said at last. “I’m so sorry.”
“It … it wasn’t your fault,” Dodds heard himself say. He became aware that Zackaria’s eyes were focused on something behind him, and he turned to see a number of people approaching. Many were armed – coastguards, the station security. They came forward cautiously, hardly making a sound, even after Dodds and Zackaria had clearly become aware of them. Four other figures then pushed their way through the security team. Estelle, Enrique, Kelly and Chaz. They must’ve landed quickly and made their way over at lightning speed. They approached and stood next to Dodds, the security teams hovering just behind him. Dodds turned back to Zackaria, seeing the man’s eyes on one particular member of the new arrivals.
“Hello, Mr Koonan,” Zackaria said, looking to Chaz.
“Hello, Admiral,” Chaz said.
“I think you’ll be having that drink on your own.”
Chaz nodded. “In that case, I’ll make sure I have one for you, too, Admiral.”
Zackaria’s eyes flickered over the five briefly. “The White Knights,” he said. “The five that stood up to everything, with unwavering commitment. I should have been more like you. I should have fought harder to stop this all from happening. But I couldn’t – I wasn’t strong enough, and now I’ve left you with a galaxy in ruin.” He was quiet for a time, only staring ahead emptily. “How can you ever forgive me?” he asked, finally.
Silence reigned for a time, until Dodds noticed that Zackaria was no longer breathing. He came forward and closed the man’s eyes, before clearing the way for the security team. Medics moved in and soon officially pronounced the man dead. Zackaria’s body was lifted onto a stretcher and taken away.
“How can we ever forgive you?” Dodds murmured to himself, as he watched it go. “Quite easily, actually.” He turned to his wingmates. “How did you get here?”
“We put down on the orbital as soon as we saw you and Zackaria go through the dome,” Estelle said. “We came as quickly as we could.”
“What’s happening out there?” Dodds said, nodding to the blast screens and the space that lay beyond.
“They’ve gone,” one of the coastguards said. “They all began jumping out when Dragon went up and the explosions started.”
“How many made it?” Dodds said.
“Not many,” the same man said. “From what I understand, Dragon was one big antimatter bomb, and the enemy ships were so close to her that they were taken out when she went up. Those that did try to escape made the mistake of opening jump points within the blast zone. They were crushed in the collapse. Admiral Jenkins has said that they’re just picking off the stragglers now.”
“So, is that it?” Dodds asked, his voice heavy with disbelief. “Have … have we won?” He looked again to the blast screens, hoping that they might drop and show him the true picture and state of things. They remained in place, however, leaving him with only the coastguard’s word for it. But what more did he really need? How else could they all be standing there?
“Dragon’s gone,” he began, hearing the somewhat questioning tone of his own voice, “the fleet has been defeated, Zackaria and Rissard are dead, there’s nothing left at Kethlan …” He then looked at Kelly, who alone was wearing a beaming smile on her face. “We’ve won,” he finished. “We’ve actually won.”
Kelly only grinned harder. “Told you we would,” she said.
XXVI
— The Dawning of a New Day —
Six days had passed, and not a single Pandoran had returned to Sol. They had all departed, fallen back to regroup or await new instructions. Whatever the reason, Dodds thought, it was clear that they wouldn’t be coming back.
For the first two days after the destruction of Dragon, the Earth defence forces had reformed, repaired and reorganised themselves, making ready for a sudden second wave to appear, no matter how large or small. By the third day, reports had begun to come in that there had been no sightings of any enemy presence within Confederation space. Probes were dispatched deeper into the galaxy, to widen the search and report on what exactly was happening.
They reported a few days later that what remained of the Pandoran navy had returned to Kethlan. There was activity there, amongst the graveyard of other vessels, but nothing that was of any cause for alarm. They were repairing, moving into ready formations and then … waiting. It was concluded that they were waiting for Zackaria, Rissard or even the Senate themselves to instruct them on what their next move should be. They’d be waiting a very long time in that case, Dodds thought. The news had been enough for the allied forces; after nearly a week, a celebration party was long overdue. The interim period turned up a handful of surprises, too.
“… and the next thing I remember is waking up in the medical wing,” Meyers said. “One of the other bridge crew survivors told me that I called to abandon ship as she started to come apart, but was then knocked out when the gravitational systems began to malfunction.”
“So then one of them picked you up and put you into the escape pod,” Estelle finished.
The man nodded, glancing to the sling that supported his right arm. He raised his beer glass and took a deep gulp. “I should’ve gone down with her; a captain always goes down with his ship,” he said, looking out the windows of the bar to the space beyond.
“Doesn’t sound like the cre
w were willing to grant you that wish,” Kelly said, sipping at her champagne. “They clearly had a lot of respect for you.”
“Many of those boys and girls were with me for a good ten years,” Meyers said, a little miserably. “I shouldn’t really be drinking, but it’s New Years Eve and I thought, what the hell.”
Dodds smiled and looked around the spacious bar. A number of pilots, starship crew and other survivors of the battle were in attendance, gorging themselves on the generous offerings of food and alcohol. He saw Jenkins and Mandeep speaking to one another, the fleet admiral actually smiling and laughing for once. He’d seen Karen Weathers and her son walking around too, the man receiving a fair amount of attention after it was learned that he had sustained his injury during a trip down to the surface of Kethlan. The occasional flowery sentence caught his ears, and Dodds didn’t have to look to know that it came from Parsons.
“Another, Dodds?” Ali Liu asked him.
“Sure,” Dodds said, finishing what remained in his bottle and setting it down on the low table as Griffin’s helmsman handed him a fresh one, plucked from a tray going around.
“Natalia?” Dodds asked, seeing her bottle running low.
“I think I’ll switch to wine,” she said, after giving the bottle a small shake to determine how much remained. It seemed that she didn’t yet trust her eyes to tell her whether or not the bottle was empty. The bandages shouldn’t really have come off so soon, the doctors advising that she keep them on for at least another week. She’d gone against the advice, not wishing to miss out on this night, saying that she wanted to witness it all for herself.
The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy) Page 137