by C H Gideon
Which would have left New America 2 vulnerable to Jemmin attack and brought this fleet into the middle of a deadly ambush.
The minutes droned on as they awaited the courier’s return. The courier was scheduled to return with news of Sol 2’s status. If all was clear and the Solarian fleet stationed there was intact, the transport would move through the gate en route to the Sol 2-Nexus gate. If, however, Sol 2 was not clear, the courier would return with whatever data it could gather, and that information would inform how the Solarians proceeded.
The minutes stretched until nearly a half hour had passed with no word from beyond the gate.
Finally, the event horizon’s profile changed, and the courier returned. It bore no obvious battle damage. Xi wondered about the delay.
As non-Solarians, Xi and the Metalheads weren’t privy to the courier’s report, but after just a few seconds, the transport’s captain turned and said, “There is no active Jemmin presence in Sol 2.”
“What about the Solar fleet there?” Moon pressed, but before he even finished asking the question, Xi saw the answer in the Sol 1 fleet’s posture. Some of the heaviest warships in the fleet were moving toward the wormhole gate, which meant they aimed to take up new positions in defense of Sol 2 rather than remaining at their long-held posts at Sol 1.
“Guardian Fleet One is gone,” replied the CO matter of factly. “Preliminary evidence points to the Vorr as the perpetrators of its destruction.”
Xi’s eyes went wide as saucers at hearing that. “That… I mean, that can’t be right.”
The ship’s CO inclined her head fractionally. “Using information and techniques made available by the Vorr ambassador who accompanied you as well as information revealed during Jem’s examination, we are skeptical of Vorr involvement. However,” she added pointedly, “given that the source of both the damning and exonerating evidence is the Vorr, we are unable to reach consensus on the matter at this time.”
“Jemmin is a masterful manipulator.” Moon grimaced.
“That much is beyond doubt,” the transport’s CO agreed as the ship adjusted its orientation and moved to join the next line of ships set to pass through the Sol 1 terminus gate. “We will proceed with caution and accompany elements of Guardian Two through the gate.”
Xi furrowed her brow in confusion as she turned to Colonel Moon. “Why would Jemmin kill all of the Solar ships in Sol 2, paint the Vorr as the aggressors, and then withdraw?”
Moon grunted. “The only answer I’ve got is that they want to sow dissent between humanity and the Vorr.”
“I get that.” Xi shook her head irritably. “But how the hell were the Solarians supposed to learn about Guardian One’s destruction?”
Moon cocked his head contemplatively before his eyes narrowed. “I see two possibilities. First, Jemmin planned to re-open the gate at some future point when Solar enmity with the Vorr might prove useful.”
“And second?” Xi asked warily.
Moon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he lowered his voice. “Second, that Sol has FTL communication capability, and they already knew about Guardian One’s destruction before sending ships through. This whole thing,” he inclined his chin toward the viewing screen, where the wormhole gate grew steadily larger as the transport fell into the back of the Solarian formation set to pass through it, “could be a bit of theater for our benefit.”
The ship’s CO scoffed. “Colonel Moon, your paranoia is impressive.”
“Are you saying it’s unwarranted?” he challenged.
“Not at all.” She shrugged. “I’m merely saying that it is a remarkable trait. The amount of energy expended during Guardian Two’s recent maneuvers was extraordinary. Perhaps our so-called ‘Terran’ cousins do not care to conserve resources, but we of Sol are conscientious of such matters.”
“What do you mean, ‘so-called Terran cousins?’” Moon asked.
“Terra is a dream. A myth nearly as old as human civilization,” the ship’s CO replied simply. “Earth is reality. Sol is reality. Humanity came from a planet called Earth, not some mystical place called Terra. We are made of stardust, not dreams.”
Xi smirked victoriously. “For all your supposed enlightenment, you people really are dense, you know that?”
“Oh?” The other woman quirked a brow haughtily.
“Much as we wanted to,” Xi’s smirk grew until it was a condescending grin, “we couldn’t take Earth with us. My ancestors didn’t have the luxury of bringing along the tangible roots from which they sprang, so they brought whatever they could manage as they reached for those stars you claim we came from. And you know what? Most of what they brought broke along the way, got stolen by some jackass with more brawn than brains, or was repurposed into something that made it unrecognizable.” Judging by her expression, the ship’s CO understood where Xi was heading, but Xi Bao wasn’t about to let this particular opportunity slip by. “The only thing they brought with them that never got broken, stolen or defaced was their dream of a better future. It’s a dream that even you seem to understand is as old as human civilization. Terra isn’t where we came from, Captain.” Xi shook her head. “It’s where we’re going. And if the only way we’ll find it is by building it with our bare hands, that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
Xi turned toward the blue dot of Earth, which she regarded with both reverence and disdain for a long moment before once again facing the ship’s captain.
“You can keep the reality of Earth, Captain,” Xi finished passionately. “I’ll take the dream of Terra over it every day of the week.”
From a distance, the dormant Sol 2-Nexus gate seemed ordinary. Serene. Peaceful.
But closer inspection revealed the vast graveyard of broken warships surrounding it. Podsy’s hand reflexively went to his mouth as he contemplated the loss of human life represented by the drifting hulks and expanding debris clouds.
“Why would Jemmin do this?” Podsy wondered aloud.
“Timetables were accelerated and contingencies activated when Jemmin was repelled at New America 2,” Jem replied grimly. “Jemmin is still uncertain how the Vorr and human relationship was established, but with each passing second, its calculations bring it closer to the truth. Jemmin is powerful, but its structure is limited, and therefore so is its power. It must rely on manipulation more than brute force when it encounters unexpected obstacles.”
“I’m still not clear on how that whole ‘limited structure’ bit works,” Podsy admitted.
“Nor am I, at least not in specific terms,” Jem said with surprising bluntness. “But think of Jemmin, the social system, as both the nerve center and skeleton of a great body. Bones require muscles to move, and muscles require both fuel and direction to function. Jemmin, the nerve center, would certainly be capable of nearly limitless expansion beyond its initial matrix by simply adding more bones, muscles, and internal organ mass to itself. But Jemmin, the skeleton, is fundamentally incapable of adding more than a maximum amount of musculature and supporting organs. Each loss Jemmin takes permanently diminishes it, which is partly why it does not crave conflict. To Jemmin, it is better to frame the Vorr for the destruction of Guardian One since Solar humanity would then likely take action against, or at the very least be resistant to, an alliance with the Vorr for a tactically-significant interval.”
“During which interval Jemmin works to wipe the Vorr, the Zeen, and the Terran Republic from the map.” Podsy nodded, thinking he understood Jemmin just a little bit better. “I’m curious,” Podsy mused. “Your name is ‘Jem,’ and the name of your forebears’ species was ‘Jem’un.’ What does ‘Jem’ mean in your language?”
“There is no direct analogy, given the differences in Jem’un and human physiology, as well as the psycho-linguistic differences in how the two species’ express complex ideas,” Jem said hesitantly. “But a reasonable translation for the word ‘Jem’ would be the English word ‘mind.’ ‘Cognition,’ ‘thought,’ ‘abstraction,’ and ‘reason’ would also b
e acceptable translations of the word ‘Jem,’ although they largely ignore the implied ownership of the system that ‘mind’ suggests.”
“And the million-sovereign question,” Podsy continued, “would be, what does ‘un’ mean in your forebears’ tongue?”
“Jem’un did not have tongues, Lieutenant Podsednik,” Jem said tersely. “Their equivalent to salivary glands were dual-purpose structures that secreted digestive enzymes and also ingested fluids, leaving solid food matter to be macerated in the oral cavity prior to—”
“Don’t change the subject.” Podsy chuckled. “What does it mean?”
“The closest English word for ‘un’ would be ‘conscience.’ ‘Heart,’ ‘soul,’ ‘spirit,’ and ‘love’ also significantly overlap to the meaning conveyed by the Jem’un word ‘un.’ The first syllable denotes primacy, while the second denotes final authority. Essentially, the phrase ‘Jem’un’ means, in simple English, ‘mind before conscience, logic before heart, but no thought without love is worthwhile.’ Every Jem’un considered itself to be a mind driven primarily by conscientiousness.”
“Wow…” Podsy whistled appreciatively as he processed Jem’s response. “Your people called themselves ‘Minds of Conscience’ and believed that was how they should define their existences. That’s…a lot more noble-sounding than anything my ancestors agreed on.”
“Yours is a predictably crude summation,” Jem said witheringly, “but not wholly inaccurate.”
The lieutenant gave Jem the side eye. “Talk about crude, sometimes you can be a real dick.”
As the transport and its escort warships moved through the Solar fleet’s debris cloud, Podsy gave voice to another concern he’d silently harbored since learning that Jem could re-open the wormhole gates. “What’s to stop Jemmin from regaining control of the Nexus and all its gates?”
“My method of re-activation will interfere with every point of Jemmin control,” Jem explained, “but Jemmin is intelligent and relentless. It will stop at nothing to regain control of the Nexus as soon it becomes aware that I have disrupted its control.”
“When will Jemmin learn you’ve broken its hold? And maybe more importantly, does Jemmin know about your existence?”
“Assuming it has maintained a presence in the Nexus, which would seem to be of paramount importance given Jemmin’s designs, it will be aware of my takeover as soon as the Sol 2-Nexus gate goes online,” Jem replied. “While my method of interruption will make the process of regaining control difficult for Jemmin, it will certainly not be impossible. The coming weeks and months will prove instrumental in determining the nature of Nexus-linked space and the prospects of its inhabitants. I suspect that humanity will play a vital role in the future of shaping not only its own future but the future of every species with access to the Nexus.”
“Great. No pressure or anything.” Podsy rolled his eyes in mock dismay. The truth was, he felt proud of what they had done at Luna One, and on the Brick, and on Shiva’s Wrath, and on Durgan’s Folly. The Metal Legion, more than any other branch of the Terran Armed Forces, had played a pivotal role in safeguarding not just the Terran Republic but all of humanity against its neighbors’ aggression.
“Humanity is a fearsome species,” Jem said, an ominous note entering its voice as the transport drew ever closer to the Sol 2 Nexus wormhole gate. “Your fundamental nature makes for significant volatility, which can either be harnessed and channeled to tremendously beneficial effect…or, if left unchecked, may prove disastrous to the galaxy and everything in it.”
“That’s not exactly a ringing endorsement, Jem,” Podsy said warily.
“It was not intended to be such,” Jem replied tersely. “With a few thousand additional years of development, your species would have reached the stars on possibly the strongest footing of any race since the Jem’un, but you are dangerously primitive in many key respects. I fear your entire species will be forced to ‘grow up,’ as your people say, much faster than it is reasonable to expect.”
“That sounds like a challenge, Jem,” Podsy shot back as the transport finally reached the wormhole’s event horizon. “And if I know one thing about humans, it’s that we love a challenge.”
The transport, following an escort of fifty Solar warships, passed through the gate and emerged into Nexus space.
Where the most epic firefight in recorded history was unfolding between Jemmin and the Vorr and Zeen battle fleets.
22
An Epic Showdown
Jenkins gingerly pushed his way onto the transport’s bridge less than a minute before the ship transited into the Nexus system. Deep Currents accompanied him. The Vorr’s enviropod had been given the run of the ship for the duration of the journey as a gesture of good faith by the Solarians. No one, including Deep Currents, spoke about where the Vorr had been after being captured by the Solarians. Deep Currents simply reappeared as if the Vorr had been there all along.
The transport moved steadily nearer to the inky surface of the event horizon, causing Jenkins’ pucker factor to increase an order of magnitude, as usual for gate transit.
When the small ship emerged on the Nexus side of the gate, the transport’s tactical plotters lit up like Christmas trees, doing little to alleviate Jenkins’ anxiety.
“My God…” Colonel Moon breathed, his eyes wide. Jenkins and Xi looked on in silence at the unprecedented scale of the battle being waged.
Three thousand two hundred warships were engaged in two dozen distinct zones, each of which featured at least a hundred warships vying for dominance. The early returns showed that Jemmin ships comprised roughly forty percent of the vessels present, with the rest split evenly between Vorr and Zeen forces.
It was borderline impossible to determine the total throw weight out there, but if Jenkins had to guess, he would have said that if you added up every Terran warship capable of moving under its own power, it wouldn’t equal five percent of the firepower deployed in the Nexus.
“All hands to battle stations,” the ship’s CO called, prompting Jenkins, Xi, and Moon to find the last three unoccupied couches on the bridge, where they quickly strapped in. Jenkins’ eyes never wavered from the tactical plotter showing nearby space, where five hundred warships were engaged in three distinct battles.
One of those battles was in orbit of a planetoid that Jenkins had thought was still in the New America 2 system.
“The Zeen worldship?” Xi asked in surprise as the trio of grav-couches began to fill with the same shock-absorbing gel Terran ships used. In fact, the reason the Terrans were being conveyed via the thin-hulled civilian ship was that it was one of the few available craft outfitted with such grav-couches. Solar military craft required their crews to be heavily modified to permit greater flexibility during combat than would be possible with a human’s natural physiology.
“You proceed on a false assumption, Captain Xi Bao,” Deep Currents informed her as Jenkins put his couch’s helmet on while the battle raged on the screen before them. “The Zeen have three worldships.” Deep Currents’ voice crackled in his helmet’s earpieces after he had affixed it to his jaw-line.
Jenkins was uncertain how that particular revelation made him feel, but despite his sudden alarm at hearing the Zeen possessed more than one moon-sized battle-station, his attention remained fixed on the tactical readouts the ship’s captain graciously forwarded to his helmet’s HUD.
The Zeen ships, looking and moving unlike any spacefaring vessels Jenkins had seen prior to witnessing their devastating effectiveness in New America, tore into the Jemmin cruisers with volley after volley of missiles, though surprisingly (at least to Jenkins’ mind) the Zeen seemed not to use their high-powered lasers as they had done against the Jemmin gate-crasher.
A formation of eight Jemmin cruisers squared off with twelve of their smaller, denser Vorr counterparts. Jemmin lasers lanced out, carving rents in the bulbous, round-hulled Vorr vessels. Liquid streamed from the Vorr ships’ interiors, showing just how deeply the
Jemmin weapons had struck.
In reply, the Vorr fired hyper-velocity missiles at the Jemmin warships. A combination of railgun and missile technology, Vorr hyper-velocity missiles were highly secretive weapons that Terran scientists had tried and failed to emulate for decades.
Each Vorr hyper-velocity missile (HVM) struck with a hundred kilotons of destructive force. Designed to penetrate even the thickest, strongest armor, the HVMs had little difficulty punching clean through the Jemmin hulls and sending cones of debris out the far side of the skewered targets.
Unfortunately, the HVMs seemed a little too effective at penetrating armor, since it looked to Jenkins as though more than half of their potential energy was wasted against the relatively light Jemmin warships. Piercing the Jemmin hulls, each HVM created a plume of energetic molten debris that stretched for kilometers.
The Jemmin warships seemed to pay no mind to the grievous wounds inflicted on their hulls, returning fire with mixed lasers and missiles. Two Vorr warships were bracketed in a textbook crossfire by the fleet Jemmin ships, and one of those Vorr ships suffered catastrophic drive failure.
Mere seconds after its engines shut down, the crippled Vorr exploded in a brilliant display, unlike anything Jenkins had seen. The fluid-filled interior of the Vorr warship, obeying the nearly-incomprehensible laws governing fluid dynamics in a near vacuum, propagated the ship’s death throes in a visual display generally impossible in the void of space.
The near-freezing, highly-concentrated salt water required by Vorr physiology expanded in a perfect sphere as the ship that held it was annihilated by the energy released from its failed reactors. The sphere of fluid quickly turned to steam, then ice crystals that sparkled like a macabre display of fireworks before the glitter dissipated and was no longer visible to the naked eye.