“I didn’t think so. Like I said before, Price, I’ll leave specific tactics up to you. All I ask is that you go in guns blazing while we rally around you. If anything changes, I’ll be in touch.”
With that, Gamble jogged back toward the shuttle. He didn’t reenter it, though, and marines continued to pour out of every transport. Once they’d all deployed, the shuttles lifted off, hovering twenty meters or so off the ground while Gamble organized his marines into a sprawling formation that centered on Oneiri.
“Advance,” came Gamble’s command over a wide channel.
“You heard the major,” Jake said, and Oneiri fell into the semi-circular formation they’d discussed, with Jake and Rug at the apex and the six MIMAS mechs spread out to either side. This way, they’d have a good angle on any enemy forces they came across, without getting in each other’s way.
It didn’t take long for the enemy to emerge. Soon after the marine force poured through the pass and into the valley that held Crete, Ravagers began to emerge from between the buildings—first by the handful, then by the dozens. Eventually, a steady stream of the squat, bipedal robots was surging out of the city, followed by the appearance of at least a dozen Amblers. The great robots stalked forward on long limbs, towering over their counterparts. Together, the great mass of robots spread out in a wide arc, preparing to charge.
None of this came as a surprise to Jake. The mechs would have known in advance that the marines were coming, and it made sense to engage them out here, where they could try to push them back against the mountains. The pass was too narrow for a quick retreat, and if the Progenitors gained the upper hand, they could quickly turn this into a rout.
“At least we don’t have to deal with any Gatherers,” Ash said over the team-wide.
Gatherers had been Eresos’ resource-gathering robots, and even though they’d served the humans living there for decades, it had turned out they belonged to the Progenitors. They’d become weapons of war themselves, in the end, and in the final battle for Eresos, which had ended with the fall of Ingress, the Gatherers had proved just as deadly as their larger fellows.
Without ceremony, the Amblers and Ravagers facing the Vesta’s marine battalion broke into a run, a vast tide of metal rushing across the plain.
“Rockets,” Jake said once the enemy mechs came into viable range. At once, sixteen missiles left their tubes, hissing across the battlefield, only to be followed by sixteen more.
All along the Progenitor ranks, explosions ripped up the terrain, sending grass and dirt and metal limbs sky-high. Then the second wave hit, causing even more damage.
An Ambler was knocked back, though Jake couldn’t tell whether it was out for the count or simply off-balance. The other Amblers slowed their advance, no doubt to steady their aim. Sure enough, seconds later, answering rockets sailed across the battlefield.
“Oneiri, disperse!” Jake yelled over the team-wide. “Evasive action.”
For his part, he used the advanced telemetry readings available to him inside the alien mech to line up his own shot. As he aligned his arm with one of the rockets, that arm became an energy cannon, which he fired. A blast of blue-white energy shot forth, connecting with the missile and detonating it well before it found its target. He managed to take out another rocket—and then a third, one that had been heading straight for him. The remaining rockets struck home, some hitting empty terrain. But several landed at marine locations, and screams of agony filled the air.
That was one of the advantages the Progenitor mechs had. They never screamed.
Five combat shuttles soared forward, pelting Ambler and Ravager alike with high-velocity rounds. By now, Gamble’s people had set up several heavy machine guns on tripods, and they came into play, too. Next, rockets of their own crossed the battlefield, slamming into the oncoming mechs.
Just like that, the plain was filled with smoke and fire and death. This was war, and it was all Jake knew, these days.
He waded into it.
Ravagers surged forward to meet him, engulfing him, trying to bring him down while tearing at his scaled metal hide. His arms became broadswords, and he whirled, slicing through bot after bot. When it became too much, with bots ripping at his head and shoulders and back, Jake exploded. Shrapnel burst from all over his body, cutting the Ravagers to shreds, and when he was finished, the pieces that had burst from him came cartwheeling back like iron filings to a magnet.
Two Amblers took notice of the display, stepping toward him across the battlefield, heedless of the smaller robots they crushed underfoot.
Jake didn’t wait for them to make the first move. Instead, his broadswords became energy cannons, and he fired at one of the Amblers as he charged toward it.
The mech answered with armor-piercing rounds, but Jake leapt to the left, rolling with the momentum and coming up again to continue his attack. The maneuver had apparently thrown the second Ambler off as well, since no rounds hit him from that direction.
His target resumed fire, and a few of the rounds connected with Jake center-mass, but by then he was already upon the Ambler. In a flash, cannons reverted to broadswords, which he plunged into the enemy mech’s torso, once, twice. Thrusters sprouting from his calves, he rocketed upward, taking the Ambler with him before releasing it. The thing slid from his blades to land on the battlefield, supine and motionless.
The other Ambler actually seemed to falter, as it appeared to reevaluate the power differential involved. That’s new, Jake reflected as he landed on top of his fallen foe, morphing energy cannons once again to begin pelting the Ambler left standing.
Something collided with Jake from behind, sending him sprawling forward toward the Ambler, who immediately began hitting him with more armor-piercing rounds.
Jake focused on recovering, bounding to his feet and using his momentum to drive newly formed broadswords through the Ambler. The mech tipped back, and Jake went with it, coming down on the other side and twisting around to use it as a shield against whatever had hit him.
His attacker crashed into the makeshift barrier, sending both it and Jake sliding backward, sending streams of sand into the air.
His assailant was a mech that was almost identical to Jake’s—its greater size being the main difference.
Roach.
Chapter 56
Fading Light
At last, Spire reappeared in her native dimension—on time, unlike her last voyage through the universes.
“What do you have for me, Yvan,” Fesky squawked, trying not to glare at her sensor operator. Interdimensional travel was a great thing, but entering combat with zero intel on the current situation sent her stress levels skyrocketing.
Yvan went rigid at his console, then started shuffling things around rapidly.
“What?” Fesky said. “What is it?”
“The Vesta’s alone, and completely surrounded, ma’am,” the Winger said, his feathers standing at attention. “Six Progenitor ships are all around her in a sphere, hammering her with Ravagers.”
Fesky clacked her beak softly. The sensor operator’s news did nothing good for her anxiety.
“She does have the three Air Groups with her,” Yvan added.
“Well, I’d call that pretty relevant information,” Fesky said, her voice drenched in sarcasm. “Thanks for deciding to share it with me.”
Yvan looked up at her, blinking. “Yes, ma’am.”
Shaking her head, Fesky said, “We need to focus on the Progenitors we can actually affect. What’s their posture?”
“There are still nine warships operational in the enemy battle group facing Captain Norberg. The captain is down to nine ships as well.” Yvan’s gaze flitted back to his console. “Uh, Captain, I think the Progenitors have spotted us. Two of the nearest destroyers are turning to engage.”
If you hadn’t wasted my time worrying me about something we can’t affect… Fesky was beginning to think that maybe she’d made the wrong choice for her sensor operator.
&nbs
p; “Tactical, fire the preplanned missile barrages.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lieutenant Lambert said, sounding relieved to be doing something.
The sensor operator, probably sensing Fesky’s displeasure, looked abashed. Nonetheless, he turned toward her again and spoke in almost a whisper: “Ma’am, Ravagers are already headed for us.”
Cursing under her breath, Fesky glanced to her right. “Helm, full reverse thrust, now. We need time to fire all the missiles.”
“On it, Captain.” And she was—immediately, the Spire leapt backward, away from the oncoming robots.
“Be ready to transition back out of the universe on my mark, Nav. Tactical?”
“The last barrage is being loaded in the tubes now, ma’am.”
“Okay. Good.” Fesky watched the tactical display, focused on the stream of tiny blips representing the incoming Ravagers. Everything had happened so fast. The Ravagers were almost here—she wasn’t sure Tactical would finish launching all the missiles in time.
“Engage point defense turrets, Lambert.” The Spire had no lasers, so she had nothing to supplement their defense with.
The lead Ravagers neared her ship and were mowed down. That wouldn’t last, though. There were too many.
“The last missiles are away!” Lambert shouted.
“Nav, get us out of here!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Devar said, fingers flying over her console.
Fesky’s eyes were glued to the visual feed, which showed the tiny gleaming dots that would become full-size Ravagers in a matter of seconds. Something connected with their hull—and then the universe disappeared, replaced by another, and then another. Universes flashed by in quick succession. They were underway.
But it wasn’t over. Head bowed, her sensor operator spoke again without even looking at her. “One of the Ravagers made it through the hull, Captain.”
Now, Fesky did glare at him. No time for that. I have to do something. “Where did it burrow through?”
“Near the missile loading bay.”
“Okay. Coms, have Damage Control personnel seal off the section where the breach is, and alert the missile loading crew about the intruder.” Fesky stood up from the command seat and rushed to the rear of the CIC, where she slapped a panel to open a compact weapons locker; a broad drawer that ejected and slid across the deck. As per regulation, every crewmember carried a sidearm, but they needed something with a little more punch to deal with the Ravager as quickly as they needed to—before it destroyed something vital, potentially stranding them in another universe with no means of returning to their own. Inside the drawer were two loaded R-57 assault rifles, nestled beside several extra magazines.
“Come here, Lambert.” Fesky removed one of the guns, checked the action, then handed the other to her Tactical officer as he neared her. He checked his gun, too, then nodded.
“Let’s go.” She opened the CIC hatch, which let onto a three-way intersection—four, if you counted the entrance to the CIC. Down the corridor to the right waited the lift that would take them to the missile loading bay below.
Checking the other two corridors, Fesky nodded at Lambert, then jogged toward the elevator, assault rifle held at the ready.
The screech of rending metal reached her ears from behind, and she turned to find Lambert with his arms raised to protect his face from a shower of sparks. Then the Ravager was through, knocking Lambert to the ground and driving its tiny metal claws into his face again and again. With each blow, the claws became redder and redder.
Fesky opened fire on the robot, knocking it off Lambert. It scrambled against the deck for purchase, but she emptied the magazine into its torso, and that was enough to put it down for good.
She knelt beside Lambert. One eye blinked up at her through a mask of torn flesh—the other had been torn out completely. The tactical officer looked as though he was about to say something, but then the light faded from his remaining eye, and his body grew still.
Fesky stood, shaking as she made her way back toward the CIC. When she opened the hatch and stepped through, she found her officers staring at her expectantly.
“It killed Lambert,” she said. “I managed to kill it before it got me.”
“Who’ll control the Tactical station?” the Nav officer asked.
Fesky lowered herself into the seat where Lambert had sat so recently. “I will.” Before she’d taken command of the Spire, she made a point to give herself a rudimentary education in every station’s operation. Tactical was one of the roles she was most comfortable taking over, thanks to her decades as a starfighter pilot. “Until a new Tactical officer can be appointed, I’ll command Spire from this station while performing Lambert’s duties. It’s far from ideal, but it’s the best we can do right now.”
Casting her gaze around the CIC to see whether she met with any objections, she found that she did not. Her crew didn’t appear at ease with the situation, exactly, but they obviously understood there was no other option.
As Spire continued to flit through the multiverse, Fesky brought her talons to the console’s surface and began to work. She needed to prepare for their next appearance in the Milky Way.
Chapter 57
Back Down to Size
“Commander Fesky’s ship just vanished again, sir,” Winterton said. “Though I believe a Ravager may have pierced her hull.”
“She’ll make it,” Husher said through gritted teeth. Right now, he couldn’t afford to accept that any other outcome was possible. They needed to focus on the six ships surrounding them, as well as the unending flood of Ravagers they were spewing at the Vesta.
I should have listened to Ek’s warning. But it was far too late, now. The fact that the Progenitors had managed to reappear in such a formation showed their mastery of interdimensional travel. They’d clearly been refining the technology for a long time, whereas Husher and Ochrim were still fumbling in the dark.
“Ek, was this why you cautioned me against over-committing?” he said, turning toward his XO and gesturing toward his console.
“It was,” the Fin said.
He drew a breath, fighting to prevent his mounting frustration from making him snap at her. “Next time you have a recommendation, I’d like your reasoning for it, too. Especially when you think my plan underemphasizes something important.”
“I will, Captain Husher.”
He returned his gaze to the tactical display, where hundreds of Pythons were working together with the Vesta’s point defense systems to defend her. Given that the three supercarrier Air Groups had never trained together, Husher was amazed at how well they were coordinating. The crucible of battle had quickly transformed them into a single, deadly weapon, and they took down Ravagers by the hundreds.
It wasn’t enough, With each passing moment, the Ravager front crept closer, and more starfighters went down. The bots had clearly been programmed to reprioritize Pythons as targets the moment the opportunity presented itself, and despite the pilots’ exquisite performance, the battlespace was simply too clogged with the robot-missiles to avoid steady losses.
Husher spared another glance at the tactical display, to check whether Fesky’s efforts had paid off. Her Progenitor targets had succeeded in neutralizing all the missiles sent at them—the first wave, anyway. The ones that were visible.
The second wave consisted of a massive barrage of Gorgons, and while the enemy destroyers managed to take out some of them, they obviously hadn’t anticipated the sheer number of stealth missiles. Both hulls blossomed with flames that rapidly engulfed them.
Buoyed by his friend’s success, he turned to Chief Noni. “Nav, we need to break out of this death trap, and the only way we’re going to do that is by taking some Ravagers on the nose. It’s not what I’d call a desirable outcome, but it’s necessary, and the longer we wait to do it the more starfighters we’ll lose. So point us at this destroyer.” Husher indicated the one he meant via Oculens. “Helm, the instant we’re properly aimed, I want engines
fired up to all ahead full.”
“Aye, Captain,” both officers said.
“Coms, tell Commander Ayam to keep his squadron with the other Pythons inside the sphere for now, standing by to engage whatever warship looks like it’s going to pose the biggest threat. I also need a marine platoon stationed near our prow, to deal with the Ravager onslaught we know is coming.”
“Aye.”
“Tremaine…do we have enough charge to fire our primary?”
Husher held his breath while the Tactical officer checked the reading on his console. He wasn’t sure this would work without the laser.
“Yes, sir. We’re at sixty-five percent charge—more than enough to discharge the primary.”
“Ready it for firing on my mark.”
With that, everything started happening at once. Noni reoriented the ship toward their target, and Chief Vy brought the supercarrier’s mighty engines to full power. They sprang toward the enemy destroyer.
“The prow is already getting perforated with Ravagers, sir,” Winterton said. “The marines are going to have their hands full.”
“Is it enough to justify diverting another platoon?” Husher asked the sensor operator.
“I would recommend it.”
“Do it, Fry.”
“Aye, sir,” the Coms officer answered.
Winterton spoke again. “Sir, the carriers on our port and starboard sides are moving. Looks like they’ll try to intercept.”
“Acknowledged. Tremaine, hit the one off our port with a full broadside of Banshees. Coms, tell Commander Ayam to target the other carrier.”
On visual, the destroyer ahead grew in size. It continued to spit Ravagers at the Vesta, and while most were mowed down by Pythons or turrets, more made it through. Husher felt a vein pulse on his forehead, and he forced himself to take a breath.
“Banshees away, sir,” Tremaine said.
Winterton spoke up: “Commander Ayam is engaging his target already. If I can offer a tactical projection, I think our efforts should more than occupy both carriers.”
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