by T. R. Harris
Zac was now hot into the battle. He switched his goggles to cockpit view and watched the HUD as the pilot—the name Yusef Hamadi showed on his screen—zipped toward a pair of attacking Antaere Glorybats. The readouts showed plasma bolts being fired from the enemy, but then the scene shifted dramatically. Hamadi changed course, and Zac noticed a half-second jump to faster-than-light speed before the 308 was back in normal space and right on top of the ’Bats. Zac was activated—as were all the REVs on the Command Pod—so the subsequent counterattack was viewed in normal time. Normal for a REV. The shields of the enemy vessels glowed from energy absorption and then failed, the result of the close proximity and number of bolts fired from the 308. Both enemy fighters exploded at about the same time.
Zac studied the readings on the HUD. The area appeared clear. Run time remaining: fourteen minutes.
Zac fingered his comm. “Number 94 free, fourteen minutes.”
Zac pitied the decision-makers hovering in the air behind him. They not only had to have a full sense of the battle, but they had over four hundred active units operating at the time, and all with various Run times left. Not only that, but units were constantly leaving the field of engagement and reentering. Even at REV thinking speeds, Zac would have had trouble keeping everything straight.
Not counting the twenty units station near the Earth, that still left over five hundred 308s to manage. That meant mistakes were being made. Some REVs were allowed to Twilight without effectively using their full Run times. Others were sent into impossible situations where even their advanced spacecraft couldn’t save them. And lastly, the Antaere flooded the battle zone with nearly two thousand of their fighters. That occupied the efforts of hundreds of the 308s while allowing the larger vessels to continue along their track to Earth.
Zac was given an order to send #89 to G-345.4. The 308 was one just being sent out from a docking platform with a new pilot. The man hadn’t been activated yet; he wouldn’t be until absolutely necessary. His ship was in a deep gravity well, speeding into the Solar System.
“Is that you, Mark?” Zac asked.
“Captain Murphy! It sure is.”
Zac could see the name readout on the HUD but not the face of the REV pilot.
“Looks like you made it,” Zac said. “I see you’re right in the thick of things.”
“So are you. Where to?”
“The coordinates have been sent. It’s one of the lead cruisers. Just coming around the Sun. Be careful.”
“Roger that. On course. Chat later.”
Zac moved to another assignment.
The control REV didn’t Run the pilots. All they could do is drop a REV into the fire and let them react. During a lull in the action, Zac pulled up the battle stats. That’s when he learned the Earth had been hit with nukes. He felt sick at the news, but then quickly reasoned that was inevitable. The idea was to keep the aliens off the planet and then to prevent the annihilation of the Human race. So far, it was working, although the numbers were getting dicey. They were down to only two hundred four 308s with still over four hundred enemy ships intact and racing towards Earth. The good news, most of the Glorybats were gone. That would free up the 308s to concentrate on the main vessels, including the one huge mother of a warship—the Antaere battle-carrier. So far, the ship had come through unscathed, protected by the thickest fighter screen. That screen was almost gone, so at any moment, the 308s could begin their attack on the carrier.
More than any other vessel, it was imperative they take out the carrier. It not only had more firepower than any ship on the battlefield, but it also carried longer-range cruise missiles that could reach Earth with hundreds of nuclear weapons. That one ship alone could wipe out most of the Human race.
Zac watched the hologram in horror as a number of the other enemy cruisers and destroyers formed up around the carrier, creating an even thicker screen around the ship than had the fighters. Most of the other activities taking place in the system now took a backseat to this one. The hologram changed perspective, zooming in on the cluster of enemy ships surrounding the carrier.
“The enemy strength is down to ninety-one ships,” said one of the supervising officers in his ear-comm. “Only eighteen of those are capital ships, and they’ve formed up on the carrier now that the fighter screen has been neutralized. They intend to escort the carrier to the Earth. At your own discretion, station your remaining 308s in a blocking formation ahead of the carrier. This is it, boys, the final Run. We have to stop them here. Command will remain online with specific instructions as they become necessary. Let’s go kick some alien ass!”
Zac appreciated the pep talk, although, for the last six hours, that’s all they’d been doing was kicking alien ass. What Colonel Grainger meant was let’s go kick this last bit of alien ass and then go home.
Zac had nine 308s in his sector. He directed the AIs to send all of them against a cruiser just passing Mercury, and about four hundred thousand miles from the carrier, stationed on its six. Most of the other 308s were coming at the cluster from the front. Maybe Zac could sneak in from behind.
Zac scanned the Run times. All nine were within operational tolerances.
With REV speed and comprehension, Zac switched from cockpit to cockpit, keeping track of the progress of the battle. He lost one of the 308s to surface batteries on the cruiser, but then one of the other 308s slipped in past an aft shield. Zac didn’t hesitate. He let the pilot fly the craft directly into the starboard chemical engine. The resulting explosion buckled half the enemy vessel while the rest of the shields dropped. In the blink of an eye later, the rest of the cruiser exploded from a combine seven additional bolt hits from his surviving REV pilots.
Zac checked the threat board. There was a small frigate just ahead, already unleashing a stream of plasma bolts at his remaining 308s. The pilots deftly avoided the incoming and made quick work of the small warship.
And then to Zac’s surprise, all he could see ahead of him was the ass-end of the huge battle-carrier.
He had seven 308s in his little squadron, and he sent them racing straight for the main target. The defensive fire was incredible, and he lost two more ships before the others could get in range. As far as Zac could tell, his would be the first units to directly target the carrier. If he could make a dent in the behemoth’s defensives, it would help the remaining 308s finish the job. He steeled his resolve. As Col. Grainger said, it’s now or never. Zac gave the command to the AIs of his squadron. Attack. Take out the gravity generators at the rear of the carrier. Cripple the huge craft and do it at all costs.
But then he cringed when he noticed the name of one of his pilots: Major Mark Perry.
It was too late to contact the pilot; he was already activated. Even if he could, Zac wouldn’t know what to tell him. But he did know what Mark would say. Let him go. This is the mission. He would be proud to sacrifice himself to help save the Human race. Besides, what would Mark say if later he found out Zac played favorites and pulled him from the attack? Zac knew the answer.
He switched his VR goggles to Mark’s cockpit view. The carrier was in view, but not much more than a bright dot in the black of space. As Zac watched, the image grew larger, interrupted by brief and sudden shifts of perspective as the starfighter changed course to avoid incoming bolt fire. Then Perry was on the target, laying streaks of white energy into the shields at the rear of the carrier. Other bolts were striking the same panel, and soon it overloaded and faded from existence.
The carrier used six massive gravity generators to produce the blackholes necessary to attract the carrier to the series of event horizons appearing in front of it. The carrier was falling into the gravity wells, producing movement without the need for reactive force. Now those bulbous humps on the back of the starship were being saturated with bolt fire. But one by one, his 308s were winking out. The carrier had a substantial array of defensive weapons at its disposal, and with the Human fighters having to maintain target locks on the generators, they were unable to avoid
the incoming fire. Shields were dropping, and pilots were dying.
A warning light began flashing on Perry’s HUD. His forward flash cannon was hit and was out of commission. It was only through Zac’s REV awareness that he saw the moment Major Mark Perry hit the accelerator and slammed his 308 into one of the generators. The crash had about ten times the force of a bolt hit, so the thick hull metal was penetrated, and the majority of the force from the exploding 308 became trapped inside the aft engine compartment. The result was a massive outward bulging of the ship’s hull, followed by the flash of an explosion and then a rain of debris.
Zac only saw the final result of Mark’s sacrifice from the HUDs of his two remaining 308s as they raced over the top of the huge carrier and escaped into space. All the pilots were operating on simple orders to destroy hostile targets at all costs. Mark felt no emotion carrying out his orders. All he did was obey.
Zac’s remaining two REV pilots were nearing the end of their Runs, so he let them go as the AIs took over, returning them to the docking platforms. Surveying the data on the hologram, as well as the reactions from the others in the Command Pod, there was a very good chance they would not be returning to the battle. The carrier’s shielding was dropping in rapid succession, both from outside fire from several 308s, but also from the progression of explosions sweeping through the warship, all emanating from the aft gravity generators. The carrier was toast, and everyone knew it.
That went for the remaining Antaere and Ha’curn ships as well. There were less than forty, out of a starting number of over one thousand. Now the survivors steered away from the Earth and engaged their deep gravity wells. The battle was lost, and they knew it. And with the carrier gone, the commanders of these ships saw no need to sacrifice themselves or their crews to a losing effort.
The 308s had done it. They had all done it.
The Human race was saved.
Zorin K knew it as well.
He saw the moment the battle-carrier went off his screen, meaning no longer would the irritating Aric Nesan berate and belittle him or the Enif race. Zorin was down to a hundred ships remaining in his fleet. He’d ordered a slow retreat as the progress of the Antaere advance on the Earth stalled and then turned into a wholesale abandonment of the battlefield. With Aric gone, he was under no obligation to sacrifice more of the Consolidated Fleet to a useless folly.
He gave the order for a speedier retreat from the Solar System, turning about and leaving the way they’d come. This track was clear of mines; it would be safe. But then Zorin grew even angrier than he’d been before. It was evident the Humans had crushed the Antaere assault on their homeworld, destroying the bulk of the Antaere and Ha’curn fleet. Even before the attack, the Antaere were reeling from the losses they’d suffered in recent years. In Zorin’s opinion, there would be no coming back from this. The power of Antara was broken, the hold it had on the Colony Worlds gone.
In a fit of passion, Zorin requested a comm channel to Enif. He would send his message in the open allowing any broadcast station to pick it up. Enif was the location of the major Continuous Wormhole transit station for half the Grid. His message would be received, not only by those on Enif but by everyone.
“This is Zorin K, Califont of the Consolidated Forces currently operating in the Human Solar System. It is my solemn duty to report to you the outcome of the battle just engaged, that between the forces of the Antaere against those from Earth. With pleasure, I report that the Antaere have suffered a staggering defeat and that the Earth remains unscathed.” Zorin stumbled in his speech, overcome by emotion. He took a moment to gather himself before continuing.
“You may find it strange that an ally of the Antaere should delight in this news. But the truth is, I am not an ally. And neither are the Enif. Instead, we are slaves. Recently, my people have suffered unimaginable pain and humiliation at the hands of the Antaere, as well as their evil accomplices, the Ha’curn. I say now, those times are over. With this staggering defeat, the Antaere no longer have the power to hold the Colony Worlds hostage. They can no longer hold the specter of Crious over our heads. The Humans have emerged victorious, and now they will take their revenge on the Antaere and the Ha’curn. Retribution will be theirs, and it should be the Enif’s as well.
“Therefore, I now call on all my fellow Enif to rise up against the Antaere and their Ha’curn savages. Help the Humans purge the Grid of the Antaere once and for all. Rise up! Revolt! The time has come. The Grid will soon be free, our people safe. The task before us will not be easy; the Antaere and Ha’curn still stand upon our soil, their weapons aimed at our heads. But they will soon be running for their lives ahead of the Human wave of retribution. Let us not wait for others to liberate us. Enif, liberate yourself! It is your duty. It is your honor!”
And with that, Zorin K resigned his commission in the Consolidated Fleet. He released his authority over his ships—many under the command of other species—telling them to return to their homeworlds and help in the struggle for liberation. Personally, what Zorin hoped to find was a Grid free of the Antaere and the Ha’curn. For the Antaere, control of the Colony Worlds would soon take a low priority over preservation of their species. They would retreat to Antara, there to attempt a strong defense. Zorin wasn’t optimistic they could form one as effective as the Humans had just done of their homeworld.
And for that, Zorin K would forever give thanks to the Order. In the end, his prayers were answered.
Part I
Part 2
1
It had been a wild two months since the Antaere/Ha’curn fleet was defeated in the Solar System, and for a time, newly minted Major Zac Murphy was the toast of the town. General David Cross was generous in his praise for the REV, giving him credit for the initial idea to convert pilots into REVs. Even so, there was still plenty of accolades to go around for Dr. Cross, the genius who made it happen. All in all, REVs were flying high at the moment, although there were now a couple of thousand restless AC-3s with nothing to do, along with ten times that many Controllers.
However, in the end, the defense of the Earth was a form of a pyrrhic victory. Although the main Antaere and Consolidated fleets were reduced to less than ten percent of their beginning strength, Earth didn’t fare much better. Nearly all the 308s were destroyed along with half of the three hundred capital ships in the fleet. That left the opposing forces at more-or-less a stalemate when it came to firepower and serviceable warships.
The one advantage the Humans did have was that they had the more robust industrial capacity to call upon. Long before the last battle, the bulk of Earth’s industries were converted to the war effort, churning out spaceships at a frenetic pace. That effort continued even after the victory. However, it takes time to rebuild a space fleet, and in the interim, not much changed in the Grid.
Before their invasion of the Solar System, the Antaere failed to replenish their depleted forces by building new starships. Instead, they drafted their Colony Worlds into supplying the vessels, crews and armament for the coming attack. Adding this force to the few ships they had remaining after the prolonged war should have been enough for a decisive victory. Now, as they scrambled to make up ground, their ship-building capabilities were limited, and primarily located on the planet Simblaus, or ES-2. But the Antaere were so sure of victory that they never bothered to stockpile the necessary raw materials on the planet for a crash effort to rebuild their fleet. Add to that, their remaining forces were now scattered across ten Colony Worlds, using the bare minimum of security to maintain any sense of order. It was a fertile environment for the Humans to take advantage of … if they weren’t in such sad shape themselves.
Zorin K’s impassioned call-to-arms had been transmitted across the Grid. And when confirmation of the Antaere defeat came through, rebellions erupted on nearly every Colony World, straining the Antaere and Ha’curn forces even more. Some of the revolts were successful, while others became bloody acts of vengeance, by both the liberated, as well as the
suppressors. The Ha’curn were especially proficient at putting down rebellions. More often than not, disorganized civil rioters were no match for the feline killing machines, and the Ha’curn spared no quarter. There was no negotiating with them, no surrender, no mercy.
Fortunately, very few Ha’curn were left in the Grid. Most had been aboard the ships destroyed in the failed attempt to land on Earth. But for those who did remain, the loss of their comrades only served to make them madder. And a mad Ha’curn was not to be trifled with.
After the victory, Zac and a handful of Deltas were transferred aboard the battle-carrier Valhalla, the flagship of Vice-Admiral Jerica Armitage. Angus and Keith were on Crious, helping Dr. Cross organize his Alphas into some cohesive fighting unit.
The last time Zac was aboard the carrier was during the frantic retreat to Earth after the Betrayal on Enif—as the event was being called. He didn’t remember much about the trip since he was pretty banged up at the time. This time, however, he was given first-class accommodations in Officer’s Country and allowed to eat in the Wardroom with the big kids.
To Zac’s chagrin, there were also a dozen Alpha REVs aboard, as well. They were all enlisted, except for the two arrogant officers Zac met at Jack’s at Groom Lake. The enlisted were locked away in a back compartment and not allowed to move about the crew; however, it didn’t take long before the huge carrier was buzzing with the news of both the Alphas and the Deltas being aboard.
For years, rumors had circulated regarding a so-called super REV, someone who didn’t need the drug to turn into a superman and who could control his emotions to the point where he was indistinguishable from the rest of the population. No one worried much about this, believing it was such a rare occurrence that only the old-time REVs—like Zac—could ever reach that stage.
