“Humanity will not survive long enough. We will allocate enough ships to destroy you totally…”
“Perhaps, but it will happen. It doesn’t have to be humanity. We might not live to see it. We’ll spread word of you across the stars, send out a warning loud enough for every race to hear. Perhaps they’ll remember us as they march to war, your war, a war you created, a war every bit as destructive as that you have hated for so long. Your legacy is the wreckage of burned-out worlds where life will never be again, wasted potential, trillions of corpses floating through the stars for all eternity. Is that what you truly want?”
“What we want is not relevant. What must be, must be. If we are fated to fall, then we will fall, but we have provided the galaxy with twenty million years of peace, time to recover from the wars, time to breathe, and perhaps to find a better way into the future.”
“No matter what you say,” Novak said, “history will judge you to be nothing more than murderers. Your name will be a term of fear and hatred for all time, assuming you do not bring about the destruction you hate.” She paused, then asked, “Why did you permit us to come, if not to talk?”
“Perhaps just to talk,” the voice replied. “I have been alone for a long time. For millions of years, mine has been the only voice I have heard, my thoughts the only ones to share. When a ship manages to make it into our system, I seek the chance to hear the words of another, while I can.” The ceiling hatch opened again, and the ladder dropped down to the ground. “I will soon be forced to take action against your ship. If you wish to join them before they meet their end, then I will permit that. Otherwise you may stay, if that is your wish.”
“I am to die also?” Joe asked.
“You chose to take the risk. You must pay the price for that choice. I cannot chance what you might tell your people should you return, and if you value your world and your future, neither should you.” The voice paused, then said, “I shall consider your words, and neither they or you will ever be forgotten. This I vow.”
“I fear the same can be said of you,” Novak replied, moving to the ladder. “Your name will be a curse on the lips of a trillion beings until the end of time.” Looking around, she added, “Come on. We did what we came here to do. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Chapter 20
Scott watched impatiently as the clock ticked down, counting away the seconds before they could fire. Some of the enemy ships were moving now, settling into what looked suspiciously like a firing pattern, ready to unleash the full force of their armament on Leonidas. They couldn’t move, couldn’t change position, not until they could take their shot, and that made them vulnerable to attack. Five minutes to go. Five minutes that would determine the fate of the galaxy for the next million years.
“Firing pattern is locked into the computer,” Rochford said, throwing a control. “I’ve programmed a five-shot sequence, each one designed to counter their expected reaction to our shot. If I’ve got it right, the fifth one will send a black hole skimming across the satellite swarm at a hundred thousand miles an hour or more. It should tear the guts out of the system and send the lights out down there in a hurry.” He paused, then added, “Not soon enough for us, more than likely, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”
“Sir,” Morales reported, “our shuttle has just lit its engines and is on its way back to orbit. No signals yet, but that probably just means they’re being jammed. Estimated time to docking is eight minutes and thirty seconds.”
“One way or another, we’re not going to be here by then,” Scott replied. “Chen, see if you can contact them with a message laser. I know that it’s a little chancy at this sort of range, but it might be worth a try. Keep the message simple, instruct them to hold in transfer orbit until we give further instructions. We can’t take the risk that the Exterminators might intercept the beam and work out what we’re doing.”
“If this goes wrong, the crew of that shuttle might just outlive us all,” Cunningham replied with a smile, his fresh Lieutenant’s bars shining on his shoulders. “I’ve got an escape course plotted, Admiral. In theory, we should be able to reach the wormhole well ahead of any debris field, but that’s assuming the Exterminators don’t attempt to stop us. We’ve got a limited safety margin, but rather less than I would have liked.”
“I’d rather not be here at all,” Chen said, working the laser controls, trying and failing to obtain a lock on the shuttle as it raced over the surface of the planet, bound for a rendezvous that it would never have a chance to make.
“I wish I’d had a chance to go down with them,” Watson, still standing at the rear of the bridge, said. “The things they must have seen down there, the wonders. If we pull this off, nobody will ever see any of them again. This whole system will be essentially destroyed. All that mass flying around at ultra-high speeds will ultimately pulverize everything for billions of miles around.”
“Any more luck on a projection of the power capacities of that planet?” Scott asked.
Shaking his head, the cosmologist replied, “Without a better idea of the technologies involved, all we can do is make educated guesses, sir. It won’t be long, though. I don’t see how it could be. We have confirmed that there’s no black hole backup down there. That might prove to be their undoing if we can make this work.”
“When we make this work,” Scott said. “Let’s keep a little optimism up here.” He reached for a control, and said, “Admiral to Crew. We’re a little under three minutes from taking our shot. This is the best chance we’ve got not only to save our own people, but thousands of other civilizations, many we will never see, never know. Beings living fifty thousand light years from Earth will have cause to celebrate as a result of your actions today.”
He smiled, then continued, “I’m not going to lie to you. The chances of us living through this action are not promising, but then we all knew that going in, we knew what this mission might mean. In case I don’t get a chance to say this later, I could not be prouder of this ship and its crew, the finest in the fleet, the finest there is, ever has been, and ever will be. People will be talking about this day for the next million years, and the name Leonidas, as well as the names of each and every one of you, will shine brightly in the firmament forever. Good luck, and good hunting. Bridge out.”
“Not bad, Mike,” Rochford replied with a smile. “I presume you know that actors will be copying that speech for the next million years as well, and the politicians will be stealing bits of it for their campaign speeches for all time.”
“Good,” Scott said. “The Fleet pension plan’s lousy enough that I’ll need the royalties. Time to firing?”
“Two minutes, mark,” Rochford replied. “All systems are still go, kinetic cannon is locked to overload and ready to fire on my signal. Weapons crews are ready to switch back to conventional fire as soon as we’ve done what we have to do. Masers and missiles are ready as well, just in case.”
“Very good,” Scott said. “Helm, don’t wait for the command. As soon as Captain Rochford completes the firing pattern, get us the hell out of here at maximum speed.” He paused, then asked, “Is there a chance for the shuttle?”
“In nine minutes, sir, if they burn their tanks dry to catch us up, but again, I can’t see that the Exterminators will sit back and let them escape. I’ll work it into the escape course, just in case they work it out in time.”
“Lieutenant Chen, any contact yet?”
“Nothing, sir. I can’t seem to focus the beam tightly enough to send a message through. There’s just enough atmosphere down there to make it tough. I might have more luck when they gain altitude, but right now they’re hanging low to gain speed for the escape orbit.”
“Not a bad idea, based on what they know. Have they made any attempts to contact us?” Scott asked
“If they have, sir, I haven’t seen it. Though that’s not impossible at this point, Admiral.”
“One minute to firing,” Rochford reported. He shook his he
ad, and added, “I hate this part most of all. Right now, I just want to hit the button and get us the hell away from here just as fast as we can. One way or another, I want this over with.” He paused, smiled, and said, “I guess I shouldn’t complain, though. Not every day I get to change history.”
“Engines warming to full power, distribution network braced for maximum acceleration,” Cunningham reported.
Watson looked up at the sensor display, and added, “No noticeable change to target aspect. It’s just sitting there, and the power buildup is rising nicely. All on schedule.” He looked across at Scott, and said, “We’ve got to get home if we can, Admiral. Meagre as it is, the data we’ve gathered here will advance humanity by a couple of centuries in a matter of weeks, especially combined with what we learned from the Folk decryptions.”
“Don’t worry, Professor, I don’t do suicide missions. If there’s any way for us to pull this off and go home, we will.” Scott looked up at the viewscreen, now showing the endless waves of satellites surrounding the old, tired star, harnessing all the possible energy to fuel the Exterminator war machine. A monstrosity that had to die, for the sake of every civilization in the galaxy. He glanced at his uniform jacket, shaking his head. He’d always known that he might get to be the one to make a difference. That he might have a chance to change the fate of humanity. He’d done that already, facing the Exterminators in battle twice before, but on both occasions, all he could manage was a temporary respite, a pause to buy a little time to think of something else. Somehow, he’d never quite expected to find a way to bring the threat to an end. It seemed almost anticlimactic to think that a menace that had blighted the galaxy for millions of years could be brought down by the touch of a button.
And yet, this is what the Folk must have had in mind, a million years ago, when they had built the wormhole that had made this mission possible. Whether they had conceived this exact mission profile hardly seemed relevant at this stage. This was their work, as much as that of humanity, their mission, and even though they had been dead a million years, wiped out by the tyranny of the Exterminators, they too would live forever in the minds of humanity. He’d see to that. They owed their long-dead comrades that much, at least.
“Thirty seconds to go,” Rochford said, his hands over the controls.
“Enemy warships still moving, Admiral,” Morales reported. “Best guess is that they’re setting up for a strike time for shortly after the shuttle arrives. I guess we can write off their negotiations, in any case.” She shook her head, and said, “They never had a chance, did they, sir?”
“We might never know that one way or another, Ensign, but we’d be no better than they were if we hadn’t at least given it a chance of success.” He paused, then asked, “Can they advance their attack?”
“Probably, Admiral. They’re taking their time about it, as though they want us to see what they’re doing. Some psychological warfare, perhaps.” Grimacing, she added, “Though from their current position, they won’t have any difficulty blocking off our escape route back to the wormhole.”
“I’ll get past them, sir,” Cunningham said. “I won’t let them take us down without a fight.”
“Ten seconds to firing,” Rochford added, taking a deep breath. “Stand ready, Helm.”
“Engines ready, we’re good to go, sir.”
“Hang on, everyone,” Scott ordered. “I think this is going to be rough.”
The last seconds ticked away, each one seeming to take an eternity before the countdown finally ran out. Five loud reports echoed from the upper hull, the forward kinetic cannon firing a precisely-calculated series of shots into the void, each one beginning its minute-long flight towards the black hole reflector. There was no point waiting for the results. Leonidas had done all it could, and Cunningham swung the ship wildly around, running the engines to maximum acceleration in a desperate bid to gain speed, to boost away from the devastation that was about to be unleashed on the surrounding space.
Instantly, the Exterminators were on to them, on the move and racing after their ship, though there was still no indication that they had realized where the shots were going. Perhaps they hadn’t conceived that the human vessel could pose any sort of a threat to them, perhaps they simply hadn’t been able to track the microscopic particles with sufficient sensor resolution to determine their course, but all five projectiles were still firing firm and true. It seemed almost too simple. Catch the reflector at the right position, and send it spinning to the side, unleashing the stored power in the direction they designed. On almost any vector, it wouldn’t matter, would simply send a tiny black hole into interstellar space. On their chosen trajectory, it would unleash a nightmare into the satellite swarm.
“They’re on the move, sir,” Morales warned. “Intercept course, closing directly, four minutes to intercept. Shuttle is altering course to match us, but it’s going to be tight, Admiral.”
“Bridge to Engineering. Commander, I’m going to need everything you’ve got and then some! Push her to the red line, hell, push her past the red line. If we can’t clear this system in the next fifteen minutes we never will.” He looked up at the viewscreen, unconsciously holding his breath as he watched the projectiles race towards their target, each less than a quarter-second apart. It would all be over before they could really tell that it had begun. Belatedly, it seemed that the Exterminators realized the danger they were in, some of their ships moving in a bid to intercept, their lasers futilely raging through the sky in a desperate hope that they might prevent the impending doom.
They failed. The first projectile found its target, knocking the reflector to the side, and the Exterminators desperately fired thrusters to counteract the spin, to try and either hold it on course or at least send it somewhere less hazardous. Rochford had played a perfect bluff, the first two projectiles aimed as though he was hoping to send the black hole into the planet, a target that they might be able to survive, forcing them into an incorrect assessment of their strategy, one that was going to cost them greatly.
The third projectile was targeted to bring it back around, sending it careening the other way, targeted perfectly to accomplish its goal. The Exterminator controller attempted to counter the move, but the fourth, then the fifth, aimed it precisely on line, just as Rochford had planned, and the power surge, no longer suppressible, fired, the black hole created fifty thousand miles away, inside the satellite swarm, on a trajectory that would send it skimming around the interior of the sphere, tossing the power collectors away in its wake.
“Almost perfect,” Rochford said with a smile. “Cascade effect is in progress. We’re already seeing significant satellite disruption. They’ve shut down the collector, but that’s not going to help them now.” He looked up at the monitors, and added, “We now have thirty-three enemy ship on close pursuit, estimated firing range in less than two minutes. I don’t think they’re going to let us enjoy this for long.”
“Any signs that they’ve found a way to counteract the effect?” Scott asked.
“If they have, they aren’t using it so far,” Rochford replied. “Most of their ships are heading for the swarm, though. Perhaps they’re trying to capture the black hole. They’re leaving it late if they are.”
“Fire all weapons. See if you can throw some more confusion their way. Go for any targets of opportunity.” As the cannons pounded again, Scott looked with rapt attention at the display on the viewscreen, watching as the satellite swarm began to crack, to fall apart, the collectors either colliding with each other or being tossed clear of the star, the delicate network that had been designed to last for millennia destroyed in an instant. Already the power readings were falling rapidly, and it was only a matter of time before the planet below was dependent only upon its own reserves. The projections were perfect, as good as he could have hoped, showing the network torn irreparably asunder in a matter of hours, long before they could launch replacement satellites.
“Our salvo has had no effect,�
� Rochford said. “Unless something changes, Admiral, we’re dead in a hundred and ten seconds from now.”
“Damn, though,” Cunningham replied, “We’re sure going down in a blaze of glory, sir.”
Scott smiled, and said, “Nice to think, I guess, but frankly, Lieutenant, I’d still rather not go down at all.”
Chapter 21
“Good God!” Silva said, watching the destruction roll across the satellites, the black hole sweeping through them, tossing them away and perverting their trajectories to their damnation. A pair were sucked into the singularity, producing another burst of Hawking radiation on the sensors, and she looked across at Novak, horror on her face.
“I know,” Novak replied, shaking her head. “I see it. I can’t quite believe it. Can we still catch Leonidas?”
“Not before they’re destroyed,” Silva said with a grimace. “My sensors have them dead in two minutes minus. Should I try for the wormhole?” She paused, then said, “No, they’d catch us long before we’d make it. I guess all we can do is sit back and watch the fireworks for as long as we can. It doesn’t seem fair somehow.”
“If we have to trade our lives for the destruction of the Exterminators,” Belinsky replied, “Then I for one consider it a more than fair trade to make.” He looked at the trajectory track, tens of thousands of satellites now flying in all directions, and added, “It was an inspired tactical move. I would not have thought it possible.”
Joe nodded, and said, “Regrettable, somehow. This was a wonder that will never be again. Though we calculated the risks of such a structure ourselves, long ago, and decided it was vulnerable to just such an accident. Interesting that they never did.” Gesturing at the screen, the humanoid alien continued, “They’re attempting to catch it, but that is nothing other than sheer desperation now. It seems the war is almost over.”
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