“Its shields are down to forty-six percent,” Naydaalan said.
Roland checked his console, scanning the battlefield for any other C-Sec cruisers. The Valkor was currently the most powerful ship in play, with a few Nebula-Class cruisers spotted here and there. A bright flare to the left of the viewport was the last of the Balko, its mid-section cut in half by one of the larger vessels shaped like a tuning fork. The nanocelium on those ships was strong enough to be used as a battering ram…
Colonel Matthews shouted, “I’m really starting to run low on Intrinium back here!”
Roland checked his display again, locating the next Nebula-Class cruiser. “Len, plot me a course that takes us right beside the Parfadon.”
“Are you nuts?” the Ch’kara asked. “That thing is hammering everything to starboard!”
Roland smiled. “Exactly!”
The bounty hunter diverted from his flight path and dropped into the new course, overlaid for him on the viewport. The Parfadon swelled in front of them, its starboard side flaring with Intrinium rounds that could cut right through the Rackham.
“We still got a tail?’ he asked over his shoulder.
“At present, we have thirty-three bogies trying to get up our skirt!” Ava called back.
“Alright…” Roland wiped the sweat from his brow and concentrated on lining up with the overlaid course. ‘If you’re not strapped in, it’s kind of too late!”
The Rackham weaved between the Parfadon’s cannons, narrowly avoiding the super-heated bolts of Intrinium that passed between the giant ships. The flight path was erratic, taking them up and down the height of the Parfadon and around the floating debris. Roland dared not glance at his console to see if the number of fighters was dropping.
It only took one missile from the giant enemy ship to ruin their flight path. The missile streaked across the viewport and pierced the side of the Parfadon. The ensuing explosion threw massive chunks of debris into their path. The impacts against the Rackham were jarring on both the body and the senses, as various panels and consoles sparked across the bridge.
“I’m taking us out!” Roland gritted his teeth and pulled up, taking the Rackham back into the open battlefield. A new warning flashed over his console but he couldn’t take his eyes off the viewport. “What’s going on?”
Naydaalan replied, “The Parfadon’s Starrillium has been ruptured, it is going critical.”
“They’re changing course,” Len added. “They’re… they’re flying into the other ship.”
Roland diverted all power to the sub-light drives and picked the first flight path that took them as far away from the colliding ships as possible. He had seen what happens when Starrilliums go critical…
“The Parfadon has launched its escape pods,” Naydaalan said from within his walls of holograms.
“It won’t matter…” Roland said under his breath.
A moment later, the Nebula-Class cruiser piled into the enemy ship and its engine went supernova. The resulting explosion wiped out every escape pod as well as the enemy ships that were chasing the Rackham. Roland lost control when the shockwave caught up to them, knocking them into a spin that could only be corrected by the Rackham’s AI.
“I’m gonna be sick…” Danvers uttered from his chair.
“It ain’t over yet,” Roland replied, taking back his flight sticks.
More alarms flared over his console, stealing the curse on the edge of his lips. A whole quadrant of the battle had been eviscerated, removed from the fight thanks to the Parfadon, but three massive ships that dwarfed the Valkor remained, as well as thousands of smaller fighters.
“We have got more fighters incoming,” Naydaalan announced.
“We’re all out of Intrinium rounds,” Ava said with defeat.
Roland could see from the sensor readouts that there were still a lot of evacuation ships trying to break through and escape.
He hit his console in frustration. “Dammit!”
The Rackham’s soothing voice came over the bridge’s speakers. “Would you like to convert to nanocelium rounds, Roland?”
The bounty hunter lost control of his bottom jaw and he glanced at Len, who could only shrug. “We can do that?” he asked.
His console emitted a holographic chart showing how much of the Rackham’s own nanocelium could be used for ammunition before its integrity was compromised. The number of nanocelium rounds sent Roland’s eyebrows into his hairline.
“That’s more like it!” Ava cheered.
Roland accepted the conversion rate the AI offered him and activated his targeting system again. “Let’s skip to—”
The Rackham’s proximity alarms blared and the AI automatically assumed control, turning the ship to port in a manoeuvre that slammed them all into the back of their seats. There was a brief flash and the viewport was entirely consumed by the green hull of the Sentinel, the Conclave’s largest and deadliest vessel. The hulking battleship was firing everything it had before the Rackham even had time to identify it on the overlay.
“About time!” Roland whooped.
The bounty hunter took back control of the Rackham and banked to port again, leaving the Sentinel to assist the Valkor, whose shields had been reduced to seven percent. Roland squeezed the trigger and unleashed the first barrage of nanocelium rounds into a cluster of fighters harassing three evacuation ships. Every fighter was ripped to shreds, giving the three transports time to engage their subspace drives and escape.
“They are not repairing themselves!” Naydaalan flicked the report over to Roland’s console.
The bounty hunter smiled. “Then let’s get stuck in!”
The First opened itself up to the data pouring in from the first wave of the harvest. This world was rich in minerals and unique plant life, though its native inhabitants added little to the pallet. The Raalaks were formed mostly from a mineral-based outer shell that only differed slightly from their natural surroundings. Still, they would be added to the catalogue and their biology would feed the nanocelium.
The Second descended from its slimy pod in the shadowy crevices of the high ceiling. The Third entered their shared chamber through a wall of parting nanocelium. All three of them were connected to the surrounding ship by a plethora of black cables and tubing.
“It feels good to feed,” the First said.
“If only the natives were more nutritious,” the Third commented.
The Second scuttled down the curved walls. “I recall a species in the Xyil galaxy that was all too similar.”
“I want to sample the Novaarians,” the Third added, licking its lips with both tongues.
The First could feel the Novaarians on the planet, their biology being probed and pulled apart to be stored correctly. “Their species is present on this planet.”
The Third twitched its head in the manner of a shrug. “Then I want more.”
“We have access to the local AI hub now,” the Second announced.
All three of them could see communications systems relinquishing control to the nanocelium that swept over the planet’s surface. Within nanoseconds, their hive mind easily compartmentalised every scrap of information and collated it.
“There are humans in orbit,” the Third said.
“The Rackham…” the First could see the ship in its mind, which was quickly transferred to a holographic display in the centre of the chamber. “If the heretic’s pet was on board we would know by now.”
With Kalian Gaines’ location in mind, the Three mined the AI hub for more data, searching specifically for any mention of the humans. They were yet to receive a report from the ships they had sent to Evalan. A quick calculation told them that those ships would never be seen again if they hadn’t reported in by now.
“They’re on the move,” the Second said.
“To Corvus,” the Third finished.
As one, they agreed in less than a second to divert resources from Nova Prime to the Trillik’s home world.
�
�Our priority is their annihilation,” the First pointed out.
The Third agreed. “Corvus offers little compared to other planets in the Conclave.”
“It is expendable,” the Second said, its bug-like head looking down on the other two.
The tactic was simple in their combined mind; attack the surface and keep the Gomar and Kalian Gaines from interfering with the Eclipse missile. With one blow, they could wipe out any threat of infection once and for all.
“What of the heretic?” the Third asked a moment before the information revealed itself.
“He has disappeared.”
Before they could discuss the heretic and his whereabouts any further, a new ship emerged from subspace. Every scan from orbit was fed back to the Three instantly, telling them everything they needed to know. The new vessel was by far the most powerful in the Conclave’s fleet, but it barely mattered anymore. The planet was theirs.
They had plenty of time to finish consuming the surface vegetation and even mine the unique inorganic substances beneath the planet’s mantle. The Three relaxed and gorged on the first of many meals…
16
Telarrek entered the Clave Command Tower with ten aliens trailing behind him, each one the chosen representative from their species. Having come from the medical facility where Councillor Brokk was being treated, these eleven had been given approval to form a new council since the Raalak was already in surgery and evened unfit to make any decisions.
The command room was a flurry of activity, with one half of the room coordinating the capital’s security forces who were fighting off the Shay both in and around Clave Tower, and the other half organising the defence and counterattacks across the Conclave. In the middle of it all was High Charge Uthor, whose sole focus was on the glass view-screen, where multiple feeds relayed details and images of the battle over Arakesh.
A quick glance at the galactic map was all that Telarrek needed for him to know that their forces were being poorly mobilised. Of the seven hundred and forty worlds, two hundred and ninety-six were reporting massive casualties and planet-wide invasions. They had even lost contact with every planet inside Shay-controlled space, including Sebala and Nygalak. More and more C-Sec vessels were receiving orders commanding them to divert to Arakesh.
“Belay those orders,” Telarrek announced above the din.
Uthor turned on the Novaarian with fury in his eyes. “You cannot—” The Raalak looked beyond Telarrek to the delegation.
The Novaarian stood his ground. “The Highclave’s chief medical officer has deemed Councillor Brokk unfit at this time. In the absence of any Highclave, I have been given authority to form a new leadership.”
“No decisions can be made with this many voices,” Uthor argued. “We need action!”
“We agree,” Telarrek countered. “But Arakesh is lost. I am so sorry, old friend. We need to focus on evacuating and retreating now, not engaging hopelessly with an enemy that can rebuild itself.”
Uthor almost barrelled into the Novaarian. “My world is not lost until I say it is!”
“Do not make us do this, Uthor,” Telarrek pleaded.
“Do what?” the Raalak asked, his focus split between the new Highclave and the view-screen. “Don’t make you remove me from—”
“High Charge!” The warning cry came from a Laronian officer.
Everyone turned to the view-screen, where the battle for Arakesh had been expanded for all to see. The colossal ship that had been feeding off the planet began to move, its dark roots retreating from around the globe. The smaller fighters slowly disappeared, merging with the larger enemy ships that continued to fire upon the Valkor and the Sentinel. The number of evacuated ships was higher than Telarrek could have hoped for, but it would take days to calculate the number of dead on the planet.
“What’s it doing?” the new Atari councillor asked.
Telarrek turned to Uthor with urgency. “Get them out of there, now. We cannot afford to lose the Sentinel.”
The High Charge shrugged the Novaarian off and looked down at the Laronian officer. “Inform Charge Ilo that she is to cease her assault on the enemy ships. I want everything the Sentinel has to hit that!” The Raalak pointed at the colossal ship on the view-screen.
“No!” Telarrek yelled. “Order them to retreat, immediately.”
The colossal ship detached from Arakesh, its continent-spanning tentacles dragging through the surface and leaving bright orange scars across the planet. The sensors relayed its new size, having grown after devouring most of Arakesh’s resources. The ship’s mass was now somewhere between that of a planet and a moon.
The Sentinel opened fire with everything it had, launching every type of missile ever invented by the Conclave. A constant barrage of energy rounds flew across space, creating an almost solid line of blue light. Still, the colossal ship hurtled towards the Sentinel, trailing its writhing tentacles, undeterred by the devastating salvo.
Telarrek bypassed the High Charge and gripped the Laronian officer by the shoulder. “Order a full retreat!”
It was too late. The enemy ship burst apart, separating into thousands, millions, of smaller vessels. The missiles and energy rounds flew straight through, continuing on into the husk of the planet it had left behind. The smaller ships moved as one, every change in their direction perfectly coordinated. Their overall shape twisted and corkscrewed before it drilled into the bow of the Sentinel.
The command room fell silent, awed and terrified at the spectacle. The green ship was instantly stripped of its outer layer in a ripple of explosions. There should have been debris flying in every direction through the vacuum, but the smaller ships consumed it all. The horde of flying monsters soon masked the whole ship, allowing for only a glimpse of the explosions taking place inside.
After reaching the end of the Sentinel, the swarm came back together, re-forming a single ship. What it left behind was a skeleton of the Conclave’s greatest asset, its framework charred and bent out of shape, its innards gutted, and not a single sign of life. One by one, the enemy ships dropped into subspace and vanished in a flash. Arakesh had been ravaged and C-Sec had lost valuable resources that couldn’t be replaced.
Telarrek turned to the Laronian officer. “Pull everyone back. Full retreat.” The officer nodded and relayed the commands immediately.
Uthor stood in front of the view-screen, his regal posture and dominating presence replaced with sagging shoulders and despair. Arakesh was above him, a lifeless, volcanic mass that had lost much of its shape due to planet-wide implosions. Smaller explosions were still flaring within the debris of the battlefield, as C-Sec vessels succumbed to their critical damage.
Telarrek put his upper hand on the Raalak’s solid shoulder. “I am so sorry, Uthor. I am sure your family were evacuated in time. We will find them.”
The High Charge let out a great, shuddering sigh and hung his shoulders for a moment, before straightening up to his full height and ripping the C-Sec emblem off his uniform. “I will find them.”
Telarrek wanted to say something, anything that might stop his friend from walking away, but words could neither soothe the Raalak’s pain nor break his resolve. His four of legs thundered against the floor as he strode towards the exit of the command room. No one stopped him removing a rifle from the rack beside the door. Clave Tower was still in a state of pandemonium, with wild Shay violently attacking anything that moved.
“High Councillor Telarrek?”
It took the Novaarian a moment to connect the title with his name. He turned to see a command room full of alien faces looking at him with expectation, including the new councillors. It was a lot to ask of them, he knew, but no one person should ever control the Conclave and, right now, they were its best chance at survival.
“High Councillor,” the Ch’kara repeated. “The shell defence system is ready to activate. It just needs confirmation.”
“Confirmation from whom?” Telarrek asked.
The Ch’kara
hesitated. “Usually, it would require authorisation from all five of the Highclave…”
Telarrek puffed out his narrow ribcage. “Well, now we all have a say in our fate.” The Novaarian turned to his fellow councillors and asked if they agreed with activating the shell defence system. Several nervous expressions looked back at him, but all races agreed that it was needed.
The Ch’kara looked up at Telarrek. “I can recode the authorisation to accept the biodata for new councillors, but it will take time to add every race to the defence system.”
Telarrek looked at the view-screen, where Arakesh burned in the coldness of space. They didn’t have time.
“What about the Shay?” He asked. “We only have four races present from the previous Highclave.”
“In an emergency, there are protocols that allow executive decisions to be made by only four of the races,” the Ch’kara explained.
“This certainly counts as an emergency. Enact the protocols. I need three of you,” he said, addressing the new councillors. “We do not have time to input access for all of us, though we will. I need a Raalak, a Laronian, and a Ch’kara.”
Telarrek hated doing it after making a point of including every race on the new Highclave. Still, it would take time to undo the old ways. When this was all over, if it was ever over, he promised himself there would be an election to potentially replace every councillor with the people’s chosen representative. For now, however, he joined the three councillors from the core worlds and placed his hand over the bio scanner.
A general alarm was sent across Clave Tower, warning its citizens of what was about to happen. With all the chaos out there, Telarrek wondered if anyone would notice. It was only when everything began to shake that the Novaarian remembered how drastic the shell defences were. External monitoring stations, placed in orbit around the capital, relayed their live feeds to the view-screen.
All conversation had stopped as the command room’s occupants examined their shaking surroundings nervously.
The Terran Cycle Boxset Page 142
