by Morgan Cole
"I know. Get it done and get back here. We've got work to do."
The three of us spent the next forty-five minutes gathered around Marty's interface, pointing at targets on the virtual globe that the Interface projected of Pluto. It showed all of the capillaries and intersections where we assumed Spikes would be. The very first thing we did was target every Spike with one of the bigger rocks. The largest capillary intersection we hit with two. Then we proceeded to target rocks all along the capillaries, blanketing the planet in kinetic strikes.
Blue lines in Metra's sophisticated UI described with terse notation just how much and on what vector each rock needed to be accelerated. Everything was frozen until we started accelerating the first rock. Once we did, the numbers would update in real time. If we were too slow, our acceleration numbers would have to get higher. If we kept screwing up, the rocks would no longer all arrive at the same time. If we really screwed up, we might even lose some of our targets.
While we were adding targets, the program kept updating everything as the cluster and Pluto moved slowly along their orbital tracks. It was a masterful piece of software. As a former software engineer, I tipped my hat to her. Building something like this would have taken me months, not even including all the time spent learning how orbital mechanics worked.
Finally, we were done.
"I'd say that's got it," I said.
"Give the order," Marty said.
The first couple times Marty had done this, it felt strange. Now, it felt natural. Well, if not natural, then less strange. I guess it would really be natural when I gave the order without waiting for him to prompt me.
"Do it," I said.
Marty frowned, but his hands flew across the controls as he began to accelerate toward the first of our rocks.
"Not very Captain-like," he muttered under his breath. I laughed.
The tractor beam worked flawlessly. We sidled up to the first rock, wrapped it in a field of null gravity, and began to accelerate it along the vector that the software provided. When the planned acceleration was done, we disengaged the tractor beam and moved to the second rock, and so on.
Several hours passed as we accelerated all 66 rocks toward their final destinations on Pluto. None of them was going fast compared to what the Redemption could do, but 2% of lightspeed was still plenty fast. Metra's software used the ship's sensors to track each individual asteroid in the cloud as it moved on its course toward Pluto. We followed a light second or so behind, not wanting to arrive before our presents.
The light show some hours later was impressive. I wonder if the Ferals looked up at the sky just before they died like the dinosaurs did. There was no atmosphere on Pluto, so maybe they had no warning whatsoever. Maybe they were doing whatever it is Ferals did when our kinetic weapons dropped and turned them into vapor. It was just over for them with no warning.
A wave of bright flashes swept across the surface of Pluto, looking like old-time pictures of carpet bombing in World War II, except the force of these explosions was measured in megatons. Tens and hundreds of them.
Even the smallest rock was at least equivalent to a multi-megaton warhead as it plowed into the surface of Pluto. I'd been a little worried, actually, that we were going to shatter the planet and turn Pluto into another asteroid belt. I'd been assured by Brick and Metra that was unlikely. Sure, it was going to take a hell of a pounding, but it would take more than that to break it.
I really wondered what had happened to the fifth planet, the one that was now the asteroid belt. If Pluto could take this much firepower and not shatter, what had done in number five?
Atomic fire swept the surface of Pluto, burning the Ferals off the surface. Not entirely—we hadn't dropped enough rocks. That was a deliberate decision. I didn't want to completely cleanse Pluto with kinetic weapons. We needed the Nanite Clusters and if we could scale back the threat it might even be good as a Cluster farm. If we were going to arm Earth we needed every Nanite Cluster we could get. Just bootstrapping Earth's economy to Union standard would take everything we could provide.
Our incoming rocks had made large holes in the haze of Ferals surrounding Pluto, but compared to the number of Ferals still in orbit, it wasn't even a noticeable number.
Brick spoke up. "Well done. I must point out that the flashes will be fully visible on Earth. Concealing our presence from now on may become more difficult. Earth governments will now be fully aware of an alien presence in the system."
"Let's worry about that later. We were going to have to reveal ourselves to the world sometime," I said.
"Marty, take us in.”
Chapter Forty-Five: Battle in the Orbit of Pluto
MARTY KNEW WHAT I WANTED and angled the Redemption at the start of the haze around Pluto, pouring on the acceleration. That haze swiftly resolved into what it actually was—a cloud of monsters from everyone's nightmares. The Ferals were solid manifestations of the Elder AIs' insanity. They were always functional creatures, but never optimal. They were always nightmarish in one way or another and were never backed by significant intelligence nor displayed advanced tactics. If the AIs' minds were broken and they slumbered, the Ferals were their nightmares. They had spewed forth from the factories on Pluto, been shot into orbit, and then dispersed. Now we mowed them down by the dozens.
The two particle beam turrets on the Redemption fired in short bursts, conserving energy. Each spray of particle beam tore apart a Feral, ending it. Marty saved the plasma cannon for large concentrations or oversized Ferals. One of those looked like a nightmarish cybernetically enhanced blue whale with the head and tentacles of a giant squid, swimming through the void at us rather swiftly. Redemption's main gun cored it, the barrel-sized plasma bolt causing it first to twitch spastically in space and then with the second and third blast ending its unnatural life.
"There are too many of them," Marty complained. "I've heard of target-rich environments, but this is ridiculous. It's going to take us forever to clear this, and they're starting to close in. We just don't have enough guns."
I knew what to do, and Regar did as well from the look he threw me. With a gesture I opened Redemption's front hatch and exposed us all to the vacuum outside. As the cabin had never been pressurized there was no explosive decompression.
"Don't get too far from us, okay?" I said, and then dived through the hatch.
Regar leapt after me.
Metra's armor modifications hadn't really been meant for flying around in open space, but they were up to the job. Pluto was close enough that I could use the gravity plates to push and pull against it, although the effect was rather weakened so far up in orbit. The propulsion units were completely unaffected. I was slow, incredibly slow, compared to the Redemption but way faster than the Ferals, and it showed.
The beam of my Gazer bisected what looked like a long metallic centipede with legs the size of my forearm. It had hundreds of them and crawled through space ineffectively, failing to move but not giving up. Horror after horror died as I slowly flew through the cloud, my gazer firing nearly continuously. I only paused briefly when I moved to find another target.
Regar flew beside me, less gracefully. His armor didn't have built-in flight capabilities, so he had equipped a harness that gave him some maneuverability in a vacuum—not as much as me but enough that he could keep up. He fired his plasma pistol near-continuously, the bright balls of plasma incinerating with two or three shots every Feral that they hit. The Tempest he kept on his back in reserve for something more serious.
Marty circled around us like a hungry shark, beams slicing through the vacuum and destroying Ferals by the dozen. Occasionally the main gun fired, the plasma bolt obliterating a larger, more aggressive Feral swarming to us from farther out. In the blackness of Pluto’s space, only the light from our weapons illuminated the monsters all around us. A continuous stream of Nanite Clusters rushed from their broken corpses toward the Redemption as it passed within two hundred meters. Good, we need as much as we can ge
t.
The three of us moved in a loose formation, scouring the northern hemisphere of Pluto in a line ten kilometers wide. Even with that coverage we were only making a small dent in the haze of monsters orbiting Pluto.
We had been at it for forty-five minutes and I was despairing of our task ever ending when Marty's voice came over our comms.
"Guys, I'm picking up something weird here."
A long, black fish covered in sharp spines surged at me. Gleaming white fins reflected the wan light of the distant sun and our weapons. The fish's toothy mouth yawned open in anticipation as it charged, tailfin somehow pushing against the vacuum to propel it forward. I drilled it directly between the bright red eyes with my Gazer and raked the beam up and down. It twitched and went still.
"What do you mean strange?" I asked.
"I have no idea, it's like there's some interference just ahead. Like the sensors are having some problems, but there's nothing there. Brick, do you see this?" Marty asked.
"I am seeing the same sensor interference, but I do not have an analysis."
"Whatever it is, it can't be good for us. Maybe something cloaked? Light the area up, Marty," I said.
Plasma bolts streamed out as the Redemption's main gun rapid-fired into the problem volume. Particle beams swept the area in random, arcing curves. The few visible Ferals in that space had a very bad time indeed, but nothing stealthy was revealed.
Because of Marty's light show I almost missed it when the fabric of space itself tore. A small rent at first, it grew rapidly. Dull red light poured through from the other side. I immediately recognized the tear in space that should have been impossible here in the embrace of the Connahr field. The tear spasmed, expanding and contracting rapidly.
"What the hell? We're inside the Connahr field. They're not supposed to be able to do that," I protested.
The rift's cycle of contraction and expansion was speeding up. With each cycle the tear was becoming slightly larger.
Marty focused on the tear, pouring fire from the particle beams and the plasma cannon into it. There was no visible change.
"The Connahr field makes it require much more energy, but does not make it impossible. The AIs can force open a portal, although there are few records of them doing so," Regar supplied, his voice worried.
I was hopeful that the AI was going to be unable to stabilize the rift, but my hopes were dashed immediately. The rift expanded and froze, holding its shape for what seemed like less than a second. In that second a long, silver predatory shape the size of a Greyhound bus flitted through. Marty's fire missed as the ship transitioned through nearly instantaneously. As soon as it was through, the rift snapped closed behind it.
╠═╦╬╧╪
IAS-778801991
Light Scout, designed by Vassago
No Registration
╠═╦╬╧╪
The ship wasn't any bigger than Redemption, but the way it was designed made it look like a predator. It certainly moved through space like one, flitting around Marty's attacks with ease. Without pause it turned to attack, thick purple beams lancing out from several turrets.
"Oh shit. Kill that, Marty. Kill it," I ordered, a bit frantic.
"On it," he replied shortly, all three weapons firing. The main plasma gun led the way with bright, barrel sized bolts flashing toward the enemy ship.
The Vassago scout was no pushover. Redemption's particle beams raked across the scout's barely visible shields but none of the comparatively slow-moving plasma bolts would land.
The two ships circled each other in a scrum too fast to follow. Deadly energy flew in both directions, straining the shields of both ships. The Vassago scout seemed to be doing its best to point its nose at the Redemption, and I could see that it had what looked like a large keel-mounted weapon. I wasn't clear what that was, but it was obvious that the scout really wanted to use it.
"Marty, don't let it point that thing at you," I advised.
"A little busy here," he said, his voice strained.
"We must assist," Regar said. "Redemption is a fine ship, but AI warships are almost always more capable than ours. I remember this all too well from the war."
I thought of Nemesis on my right forearm. I hadn't had any reason to use it yet, but maybe this was the ideal use case. The thought of us getting skewered by those beam lasers wasn't attractive, but maybe Regar was right. Maybe Marty really did need our help to win this fight.
The situation became clear when Redemption's shields failed for just a moment and the beam lasers silenced one of her particle beam turrets. The thick purple energy cut deep, destroying the turret and digging into the stubby right wing. Marty goosed the ship hard, moving it out of the line of fire faster than the Vassago scout could track. Redemption's shields came back online a moment later.
"You're right, let's go," I said. "Marty, we're coming to put some more fire on it. Keep busy, try not to die."
"Good pep talk, Boss. Will do," he said, his voice clipped.
Regar and I flew at full speed toward the combat, which was slowly moving away from us. I knew that if the ships really tried to move away they'd leave us hundreds and then thousands of kilometers away in moments. We had to get there and help before that could happen, and before the Vassago scout fatally wounded my ship.
The fight was chaotic, and it seemed perilous to even be in the same volume of space. Marty was constantly moving the Redemption, almost faster than the eye could track. While doing that, he was maintaining a steady fire at the Vassago scout with the remaining particle beam turret and the plasma turret. The scout was dodging in the same manner as Marty, and not many of the shots were landing. It was clear that, slowly but surely, Redemption was getting the worst of it.
I saw that Regar had unlimbered the Tempest, sticking the plasma pistol back on his hip. We flew about two hundred meters apart, ignoring the remaining Ferals floating helplessly in the void around us. If we lived through this, we would have plenty of time to finish our cleanup.
"Jake, Marty, we won't have a lot of time," Regar said. "The Tempest's range is low, under a kilometer. If I get a direct hit the damage should be significant. If I'm merely close, it should severely impair the scout's movement. That will be our opportunity, Seekers. Don't waste it."
I remembered the Tempest well from our adventure in the Spike on Hephaseta 2. Once he fired the weapon, it and Regar himself would be locked in place. A sitting duck, and an obvious threat.
"It'll kill you, Regar. Those beam turrets are no joke," I said.
Another glancing hit showed the truth of my words, piercing Redemption's shields for a moment before leaving a long scar in the hull of her left side. Marty rolled and dodged, evading the fire just long enough for the shields to snap back on. His return fire with the plasma cannon was evaded, yet again, while the single particle beam flashed useless against the scout's shield.
"There's no time, Jake," Regar said. "Use the Nemesis. Don't be too close when the warheads detonate."
"Got it," I replied. I wanted to say more but it wasn't the time for anything but action.
We were closing fast, ignored by the Vassago scout as it attempted to tear the heart from my ship, and kill my friend.
As soon as Regar entered range he brought the Tempest up, sighted, and triggered the weapon. That familiar spatial distortion appeared instantaneously, brushing the hull of the scout, but not skewering it. Space and time around the distortion began to twist, and the Vassago scout struggled. The silvery hull near the Tempest's reality distorting beam began to buckle and tear as the scout tried to escape.
Marty and I opened fire at the same time, the Redemption's particle beam and plasma bolts splashing against the shield briefly before shattering it and tearing chunks out of the shining, spiked silver hull of the Vassago scout. I activated the targeting link and fired the Nemesis three times. Tiny glowing dots spewed at high velocity from the barrels mounted on my right forearm. Two of them hit and stuck to the bare hull expose
d by Redemption's weapons. The third passed between the two ships, barely missing the Redemption.
In that frozen moment of time, where our victory seemed assured, but the scout was not yet dead, the worst happened. The scout made the only logical conclusion it could. It needed to destroy the thing that was holding it in place and tearing it apart. Without mobility the scout was defenseless. One of the beam turrets swung around and a thick purple beam of light ripped into Regar's unmoving form. The powerful ship-mounted laser burned through Regar's ancient Seeker armor.
The Tempest's tear in reality disappeared immediately and Regar's body tumbled away as atmosphere and blood vented from the rents in his suit.
"Regar! Hang tight, man. I'm coming for you," I said and boosted toward him.
The scout tore free of the Redemption, boosting away desperately. Despite the immense damage Marty had inflicted on it, the scout was still maneuverable enough to dodge most of the incoming fire.
Marty pursued, weapons blazing as he tried to claim his kill. In mere seconds, the two ships were glinting specks in the distance. With a thought, I triggered both of the detonation sequences of the Nemesis rounds that had landed. My display darkened, hiding the new sun the antimatter charges in the tiny warheads made in the distance.
"Whoa, was that you, Jake? That was a hell of a bang. That thing's nothing but twisted scrap now," Marty said.
"Yeah, that was the Nemesis. I'm going to Regar. He's really hurt."
"I'm on my way back," Marty said.
Regar was more than really hurt. The top half of his stout body was attached to the bottom by a partial panel of his armor, and a handful of burnt flesh. The laser had boiled the organs in his chest and cut him nearly in half. His right hand still held the Tempest. A little less than half of it. The scout's beam had cut through it cleanly at a jagged angle. The other half was gone, drifting somewhere in the void nearby.
"Shit, Regar, can you hear me?" I asked, in vain.
Regar was clearly dead. No one could survive that, not even with Transcendent Flesh. Or could they?