by Brian Mansur
“Now,” Lilith said, raising her arms as if to embrace her subjects, “I invite Belia’s leadership to unite with me as your empress.”
She gestured back to Dalip. He stepped forward and said, “Lakshmi is proud to be the first to join this new empire. For too long, Belia has been fractured and at war with itself. We will put aside our quarrels: quarrels we were maneuvered into by our former unlamented emperor and the Mykonian oppressors who followed. Our new empress, Lilith, will bring us healing. Where there has been hate, she will bring peace. Where there has been oppression, she will bring freedom.”
As Dalip stepped back, Lilith resumed. “Come to Lakshmi in one week where we shall inaugurate our new order and draw plans to finish expelling Mykon from our affairs. Against any adversity, we will make bounty and peace! Join me and let us build our future bright and beautiful!”
The camera tightened on Lilith’s brilliant smile before fading to the Lakshmian crest: a four-armed figure holding lotus blossoms to its cheeks.
Henry said, “She has quite the flare for the dramatic.”
Rafe stirred in silence. He didn’t think for a second that Mykon had ever kept any Arbiters at Belia, assuming they owned any at all. The things cost too much to buy. But the speech, coupled with the Wardens’ open support, would be enough to keep most people from publicly questioning Lilith and Dalip’s lies. Since the Mykonians didn’t know the limit of Lilith’s capabilities, the woman held Belia in check, if not mate.
While stewing in his frustration, a flicker to the left caught Rafe’s eye. A side panel still carried the live visual from the mechs as they decelerated to assault the looming Tsunami. Rafe’s spirits shot hubward at what he saw there. For the first time in his ordeal, he felt a genuine, if painful smile break across his face. It seemed that Providence had decided to spite Lilith. The battleship had opened fire.
16
Location: CIC, MSV Tsunami_
The previous fifteen minutes had brought a litany of horrific news to Captain Paulson. Zeus and a third of the BELCOM fleet were gone. Sean’s boarding team had been decimated. Everyone’s apprehension only worsened at the lieutenant’s report from the Feni’s escape pod. The enemy mechs’ toughness was matched only by their savagery. Paulson held little hope for their chances against the six killing machines, which would reach the Tsu in seconds. All that stood in their way was a squad of marines and an ill-armed crew. Adding insult to injury, the Wardens had forced Lilith’s speech onto every channel.
As the broadcast ended, Claire said, “Mechs decelerating. Intercept estimated in thirty seconds.”
Paulson turned in solemn silence to Doctor Apple. They were still floating helplessly in space. The mysterious override on Claire’s systems left her able to do little more than give a play-by-play of their approaching doom. The doc said, “I’m considering mighty hard your suggestion to start praying.”
The captain nodded slowly. She had given orders to scuttle the ship if boarders reached or destroyed the CIC.
A heartbeat later, Claire shouted, “Weapons and propulsion online!” All about the airless Combat Information Center, suited figures turned to the center chair.
Paulson’s attention snapped to the table of her ship’s weapons systems, not quite believing the miracle unfolding there. Block by block, the status grid blossomed with verdant radiance. Point Defense Gatlings signaled ready. The lasers, missiles and rail guns would take seconds longer to wake, but that didn’t matter. The six decelerating mechs had closed to less than three kilometers: well within point-defense cannon (PDC) range.
The captain called out, “All weapons fire on the inbounds as you come to bear! Helm, quick-turn to ram the targets! Emergency torch thrust, now, now, now!”
Even as she spoke, Claire directed a trio of mammoth Gatling cannons at the edges of the ship’s hexagonal shielding swivel. Each turret’s set of radar dishes, infrared telescopes, and visible light cameras immediately locked onto the incoming mechs and their blazing rockets. The process took less than two seconds before Tsunami began to spit hyper-velocity metal into the blackness.
In those few seconds, the approaching mechs saw the point defense guns swinging about. This triggered contingency protocols. The mechs opened up their smaller Gatlings against the exposed PDC turrets before they’d finished moving into position. Fifty caliber bullets hurtled from each attacker at the rate of one hundred rounds per second. The first ordnance struck just after the defenders started shooting.
A rain of bullets slammed into the Tsu’s turret mountings, excoriating the sensor bubbles and radar blisters. The mechs’ high-caliber rounds ripped into the weapons housings occasionally punching through to something important. They degraded the defender’s aim but ultimately failed to knock out a single turret.
The engagement had entered its fifth second when the Tsunami’s counter-fire bridged the two-point-five-kilometer gap and smote three of the attackers. Nearly a hundred rounds of two-centimeter-wide shells tore into the unlucky mechs and their small cargo ferries. Metal chunks, circuitry, hydraulic fluids, and compressed gases burst into space. The pulverized hulks hurtled harmlessly past the Tsunami.
Meanwhile, the surviving three mechs ran low both on ammunition and space. The battleship accelerated into their flight path at over one-third of a gravity. The artificial intelligences of the mechs recognized the danger and signaled their transports to adjust course.
At this point, the machines caught a minor break. Their barrage jammed up the Tsunami’s Numbers 1 and 3 point-defense guns. They also ruined the Number 2 cannon’s visual optics, but not its radar and infrared sensors. It shifted attention to another target and blazed with hellfire. A fourth attacker disintegrated into bits.
By the sixth second of combat, the range had closed to barely two kilometers, and the mechs no longer missed their marks. They finished off the Number 2 turret and coasted for a brief moment unmolested. That respite ended as two of the Tsunami’s rail guns simultaneously blew the remaining mechs into a thousand pieces. Several of the fragments rained uselessly upon the Tsu’s front shield. The entire engagement had lasted exactly eight seconds from the point that the mechs had first fired.
Stunned by their victory, Paulson joined several others on the CIC net in a collective sigh of relief.
On her next breath, she ordered, “Helm, cut drive.” She knew her human reaction had just cost the ship more than a few tons of precious reaction mass.
Spilled milk.
She said, “Weapons, nuclear mission. Fire one Reaper missile at the Feni. Lasers, burn up anything you spot moving on that ship no matter how small. I’ve had enough of its surprises.”
In short order, one of the Tsunami’s missiles lit up the tactical board. Paulson offered a quick blessing for the remains of the men and women that she was about to obliterate. Then she turned her attention to taking stock of her ship.
While Paulson checked on the damage from the mechs’ attack, the rocket motor on the Reaper kicked it toward the Feni at more than fifty gravities of acceleration. Burning through its first two stages in a handful of seconds, it crossed the one-thousand-kilometer gap in two minutes, clocking around thirty-thousand kilometers an hour by the time it reached the freighter. As it approached, the weapon’s guidance system calculated to within a microsecond when it would impact. The warhead detonated inside spitting distance of the Feni’s hull.
Through the Tsunami’s visual cameras, onlookers saw a vanishingly brilliant flash as the fifty-kiloton device unleashed over two-hundred Terajoules of energy in a spherical shell. From the Feni’s perspective, it seemed as if a window to a star’s surface had briefly opened scant meters away.
One-third of the fusion event’s energetic photons struck the Feni’s two-hundred-meter-long frame. Near the flash point, radiant fury vaporized and melted the ship’s outer hull. X-rays penetrated deeper, heating the interior air to create impulsive shock fronts all along the structure. The multi-fold waves shattered bulkheads, machinery, a
nd bodies alike. The Feni came apart amidships, its bow and aft shivering off chunks as though smashed from within by a thousand sledgehammers.
While studying a real-time telescopic view of the demolished Feni, Paulson noticed Apple stirring next to her. In his Nuevo Texan drawl, the doc said, “I’ll be damned. We won.”
The captain grunted. At least something went right today.
“Helm, begin maneuvers to recover the Feni’s escape pod,” she said out loud.
“Claire,” Paulson said, “what happened to restore our systems? I thought we needed another ten minutes to reinstall your backup core.”
The A.I. simulated chagrin. “Another Warden override, ma’am.”
“Another override,” Paulson echoed.
What the hell is going on here?
Claire said, “Ma’am, we received a Warden bulletin that I think you’ll want to read for yourself. It concerns Commander Rafe Hastings whom BELCOM told us about.”
Paulson scanned the alert. Her jaw dropped. “Claire, I don’t care how you do it, but get me a channel to whichever lifepod has an admiral aboard.”
“Ma’am,” Claire said, “Alastair’s final report didn’t include any of their names on the lifeboat manifests. You are now the most senior officer at Belia.”
The woman cursed. Then she slammed her fist soundlessly onto her chair’s armrest. “Open a channel to the fleet’s survivors. I’m taking command.”
Location: Lilith’s private estate, Lakshmi Colony_
Lilith swept into the viewing room, her cheeks pulsing red with fury. “Natrix!” the new empress commanded, “replay the battle on the center screen!”
Rafe noted that in Lilith’s haste, she had blown past both himself and Henry. And the hulking enforcer behind them.
For several seconds, Lilith watched the Tsunami annihilate her assault mechs and the Feni. Rafe couldn’t help noticing her nails as they curled into their palms. A grin cracked his tortured lips as blood dripped from one hand.
At last, the madwoman shouted, “How did they do that, Natrix?”
The A.I.’s voice emanated from all around them. “As I said empress, I was unable to establish a link with the Feni or its Arbiter during the attack.”
Lilith nearly screamed. “How could you not? The Arbiters use the Warden radio network! They have those freaking satellites all over to get signals through.”
“The link became unavailable shortly before the Tsunami began firing.”
Rafe said, “I know how they did it.”
Lilith whirled and stormed to Rafe. She shouted, “Tell me, or I cut your tongue out!” She failed to note the almost complete lack of fear in Rafe’s swollen face.
From her wild glint, Rafe judged it wouldn’t take much to incite her to do what she threatened. This was why, against every instinct of self-preservation, he smiled mockingly up and said, “Go ahead. I’m not telling.”
Henry said, “You should have killed him when you could.”
Lilith spat an obscenity and asked what he was talking about. He responded by demanding, “Didn’t Natrix give you the new Warden message?”
“I tried,” Natrix said. “She shut me up.”
Henry huffed. “So, you’re too important to check your own messages now that you’re Belia’s queen?”
Rafe craned to regard the spy. With a broken chuckle, he said, “You have balls.”
And with any luck, Lilith will hang you up by them.
Lilith howled at Rafe. “Tell me how to defeat the Tsunami!”
He smiled crookedly at her. “No.”
Her rictus of hatred intensified. She reached into her hair and drew something shiny from it. Rafe noted the thin knife with a pang of equal parts fear and hope.
This is worth it, he told himself, bracing.
A blur of motion cut across Rafe’s field of view, shoving Lilith away. Rafe saw Henry hauling Lilith back a few paces.
Henry screamed at the struggling empress. “He’s under custodial protection too now, you crazy woman!”
The words shocked Lilith into silence. Her eyes flicked between Henry and the enforcer behind Rafe. Her face drained to a porcelain shade. She had very nearly gotten herself killed. It took her two full seconds before she squeezed out a reedy, “What?”
Henry said, “The Warden here told us just before you arrived!”
And then the enforcer spoke in its intimidating, digitized base. “You are to have Mr. Rafe Hastings escorted to the Warden vehicle now arriving at your estate. You have three minutes remaining to comply.”
Henry threw back Lilith’s hand and snarled at her: “They are taking him back to one of the Mykonian warships.”
Rafe imagined he saw steam billow from Henry’s nostrils as Lilith absorbed this news.
Henry shouted at her, “Everything! Everything he has learned from your blabbering mouth and from his front-row seat here is going to be known to our enemies!”
“But—” Lilith began.
“Don’t you say another word while he is in here! Get him out! Now!”
Henry Wilkinson's roar made Lilith visibly shudder. She swallowed, finally beginning to understand the depth of her mistake. Without removing her eyes from Henry, she slapped her wrist comm. “Markem! Get in here!” Within a minute, Lilith had made the arrangements for their guest. Markem, the same man who’d used Rafe as a punching bag, would have to be the one to escort him to safety.
Before the brute could pick Rafe up, however, the Warden had one more package of information to share. “Be advised Lilith: your immunity status is now restricted to Lakshmi. Mr. Hastings, yours will be invalidated before its expiration if you choose to leave your final destination. Any ship or colony you choose may not be targeted, even with an Arbiter. Only conditions of Unrestricted War inside a colony, though not around it, will nullify our protection for whichever of you enters such a zone. Consult our notice for further details.”
They want me to use this immunity to fight Lilith. But why would they sabotage their champion?
Lilith responded to the news with bulging eyes and an open mouth. She stuttered, “Wha-why are you doing this?”
The enforcer turned square to Lilith. “You will not ask that question again.”
Lilith took a half-step backward at the rebuke. “Yes, Warden,” she said meekly, showing a vulnerability Rafe hadn’t imagined her capable of.
At last, Markem hauled Rafe to his feet. Rafe wanted to enjoy this reversal of his fortunes: to let it salve some small part of his anger and grief over the murders of his countrymen and, very possibly, his family. But as the door to the command room parted for him and Markem, he couldn’t help wondering, Why are the Wardens playing us against one another like this? They had never been gentle as humanity’s caretakers, but this took their cruelty to a malignant level. He could only come to one conclusion: something had gone horribly wrong with them.
He twisted back to look at Lilith who fidgeted as though on the verge of panic. Beside her, Henry stewed impotently, eager for Rafe to be gone. In the shadows of a corner, the monolithic Warden observed them all.
While Markem dragged Rafe out, the spy braved a deep breath against his broken ribs. With it, he called, “The Wardens want us to fight!” Then as the doors shut behind him, he pled, “End this Lilith!”
17
Location: Lilith’s private estate, Lakshmi Colony_
Outside, Rafe hobbled behind Markem toward a boxy, black and chrome vehicle. An enforcer detached from an alcove at the truck’s middle. In a voice approximating a lion gargling blood, the Warden said to Markem, “Get him in. Now.”
Almost tripping over his feet to obey, the burly man lifted Rafe by the armpits to carry him aboard. Rafe inhaled sharply in response to the pressure on his fractured ribs. He wondered what the Wardens would do to Markem if they thought the man was squeezing too hard.
Before Rafe could feign being injured, the brute hauled him up the truck’s short ramp and plopped him onto a metal seat. The enfor
cer gave Markem room to vacate, then joined Rafe inside. Before the doors fully shut, the truck lurched away. Rafe caught himself with a hand on the space to his right. The unmoving Warden might have been bolted down for all Rafe could tell.
Once the ride smoothed out, the machine said, “You may now communicate securely with your people. State your desired contact.”
It took several beats for Rafe to pump enough oxygen through his brain to think. Why were the Wardens helping him? What was their plan and how did he fit into it? Given that they seemed responsible for the chaos engulfing Cervantes, he wondered what he should do.
You can’t hide anything from them, let alone fight them. We’re gladiators in their arena with no choice but to play.
He considered asking to speak with James. If the A.I. hadn’t been found, it might be able to connect him with whoever controlled the Mykonian military at Belia. Then Rafe remembered that no one, not even a head of state, could ignore a direct Warden communique.
Using short breaths, he said, “I need to speak with the commander of BELCOM Fleet. On a secure channel.”
“Connecting,” the Warden said. Ten seconds later, it told him, “Encrypted link established. Roundtrip light-speed lag is one-point-seven-seven seconds.”
A middle-aged woman beneath a helmet appeared in a rectangle on the Warden’s face-shield. It was only then that Rafe realized how anyone watching on the other end might be enjoying a full-body video of him. Despite his sore muscles, he self-consciously crossed his legs.
“Commander Rafe Hastings reporting in, ma’am,” he said to the suited figure. He took a shuddering breath, and not only from his broken ribs and shredded larynx. His welling emotions threatened to spill at the sight of a friendly face. To distract himself, he quickly added, “Sorry I’m not in uniform.”
