Crusade of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  Suddenly, it picked up something. It focused on it instantly, with all of its vast attention. It had been a spark, a rough bit of detection. Was it the enemy ship? Had it pursued from the previous system?

  What should it do? Should it blanket the area with detection, vastly increasing the chance that the enemy would pick it up? It was the only way that offered a decent chance of success at actually targeting the ship…but it also gave the enemy a good chance to spot it.

  What did it want to do? Did it want to try to maintain its cover, assuming the enemy had not detected it? Or did it want to know for a fact the enemy was there?

  It calculated, analyzing every possibility. Had the situation been reversed, had it been searching for the ship scanning the system, it would have opted to maintain its silence. But there was no question…the enemy had a better chance of spotting it, conducting its in-depth analysis of the system, than it did.

  Unless it put everything on the area of space that held the enemy…suddenly. And prepared to attack if it found the ship.

  It thought again, going through thousands of various possibilities, exploring virtually every option, and every possible result of its actions. It seemed as though it took a long time, but in point of fact, it was less than a second. Then it decided.

  Scan. And if it found anything…attack at once.

  It knew a fight was risky, that it could lose. If it struck first, it would likely have the advantage, but it realized that such action was dangerous. But so was ignoring the enemy. And whatever else it was, SP-01012 was not a coward.

  It set up its scanners, all its vast array of capability…and it turned it all on, at once.

  It activated its weapons, too, preparing to open fire on anything it detected, even an uncertain lock. It analyzed the scans, checking for any kind of detection. It didn’t find anything, not at first. And then, it discovered something.

  It wasn’t a certain contact…but it was close. And SP-01012 decided in an instant it had found the enemy ship. It knew it had likely given up its own position too, with the burst of scanning energy…but it was almost certain it was first.

  It analyzed the targeting, locked a fix on the ship…and opened fire.

  * * *

  “Sir…we’re picking something up. A large burst of scanner energy…” Corrigan paused, for just an instant…and then he turned right toward Dirth. “Incoming energy…I think they are…”

  “Full thrust! Now!” Dirth had been looking at the display himself, and he’d come to the conclusion right before Corrigan had said it. His ship had been fired upon.

  His mind erupted, a thousand different thoughts coming at him all at once. But he managed to hold on. He had a fight on his hands, a fight to the death…and he knew it.

  “Power up lasers…” He knew the only way to win was to destroy the enemy, but he was also aware that first, he had to avoid the incoming volleys. “Change thrust angle to 40.125.105!” He knew he had to modify the course of his ship, frequently.

  “Changing course, sir. And lasers powering up…fifteen seconds.”

  “Very well…insert course change system A-3.” His manual course modification had been his first inclination, but he knew he needed continuous changes. System A-3 was the best his ship had, the best any ship in the fleet possessed…and he hoped it would be good enough.

  “System A-3 engaged, sir. Lasers ready.”

  Dirth stared at the screen, looking for anything to fire at. He had some tentative targets, but nothing especially good. Still, anything was better than nothing. “Fire at all target locations, Lieutenant…and keep scanning at full.”

  He looked, watching as the enemy’s lasers blasted by, mostly far away…but then, suddenly, at less than five hundred meters distant. That last shot took his breath away, and he knew he was in a fight to the finish.

  He stared at the screen, looking for anything that told him where the enemy was, anything that his crew missed. But there was nothing…nothing but what he had already. And it looked like the enemy had more.

  * * *

  SP-01012 didn’t feel fear. None of the First Imperium’s droids and AIs did, at least not as it was known to humans. But that didn’t mean it didn’t want to survive the fight it was in. It could appreciate, in a manner of speaking, that its survival wasn’t terribly important, that if it was destroyed, the Regent would simply send another one, an exact copy probably, in another ship, to carry on. But part of it wanted to survive. And as desperate as the fight was, as legitimate as both sides’ chances were, it knew it had the edge.

  It had better detection material on the enemy, at least it believed it did. It knew its firing, and its wild maneuvering had given the enemy contact information, but no more than the human’s own versions of all that had provided it.

  Still, despite the fact that First Imperium units didn’t feel fear, at least not as humans did—it was well aware that the battle was to the death. And it was determined to prevail.

  It knew its ship was fragile, a high-tech scout and not a real warship. But the enemy was the same, almost certainly. That left the edge in its favor again, at least as far as it could tell.

  But there was still a chance that the enemy would prevail, that it would emerge the victor. SP-01012 knew its best chance at victory was already lost, that its opening shot had been the only one it had taken without return. Now, the enemy was firing, too, and SP-01012 realized that anything was possible.

  It poured all its ability into its firing, using all it had to aim its shots…but, in truth, it only had so much information…and so far, it had missed with everything, just as the enemy had.

  It found its analysis wandering, at least in the parts of its brain not needed in the fight. It still had the edge, it was sure of that, but it didn’t really know how much of an advantage it possessed. The enemy was capable, as powerful as it was, or close to it. But those differences could be considerable.

  It fired again, and again…but it missed, just as the enemy continued to miss it. The two ships were built for stealth, and even with their engines roaring at full, they were difficult to hit.

  But it knew sooner or later, one of them would score a hit…and the odds of victory would escalate dramatically. And it was determined that it would score that hit, and not the enemy.

  But only time would truly tell.

  * * *

  Dirth could feel his heart pounding, and he realized his ship had come close to being destroyed. The only way he could survive was to hit the enemy before they got him. And they had come closer so far.

  “Corrigan…concentrate our fire, and see what you can do to up the rate.” He knew that one, two hits at most, would make the difference in the battle. He realized his ship couldn’t take any more than three or four at most, and he suspected the enemy vessel was very comparable. But scoring that first hit, or those first two, was proving to be difficult.

  “Yes, sir…I’m on it.”

  The ship shook hard, jerking back and forth as the A-3 system engaged, altering its heading and thrusting in variable amounts, with changes ranging between two and sixteen seconds. The A-3 system took control away from him, and that made targeting the enemy more difficult…but it was a huge factor defensively. He knew his ship would have been hit by then, and probably destroyed, if it hadn’t engaged the A-3.

  “I think gunnery can increase the rate of fire by five or six seconds…but the downside is probably a ten percent higher chance of a major malfunction.”

  He listened to Corrigan’s report, which was more or less what he’d expected. He imagined for a second losing the guns, his ability to fire. That would still allow him to run…but where? He couldn’t go toward Earth-2, not with the almost certain chance the enemy could follow…and even if he went in another direction, the amount of time, and the thrust required to escape made it almost impossible.

  No…this is a fight to the finish…whatever happens.

  “Increase gunnery rate…as much as possible.” He knew
it was a risk, but it was the smaller one…especially with the enemy coming so close more than once.

  “Yes, sir.” He thought he could tell from Corrigan’s voice that his number two was with him, but he wasn’t sure. Still, he had decided.

  The ship shook again, and then again, changing its direction wildly. But the enemy ship was firing too and coming close. Dirth felt every shot, he watched as the incoming fire ripped by. Most of the enemy’s shots were reasonably far away, but a few of them came close. Two of his own shots were also near misses, but he could tell that his shooting wasn’t quite up to the enemy’s. He began to panic, to think about what he could do, what other ways he could pull out an advantage. But there was nothing, nothing but continuing the way he was going…and hoping for the best.

  And he did that, his ship jerking around, firing at the enemy even as it tried to evade the incoming fire. It did that, for five minutes, then ten. The two ships were both hard to hit, and even more difficult with their evasive maneuvers, and as the time continued, as fifteen minutes turned to twenty, still with no hits, he started to think neither ship would ever score.

  But he was wrong.

  He turned to spit out a command to Corrigan, one he forgot all about the instant the ship shook hard, and the lights flashed out for a second. He knew the battle wasn’t over, not yet at least…but he also realized that his chances were less than they had been a few seconds before…much less.

  His ship had taken the first hit of the battle.

  * * *

  SP-01012 felt something. Excitement wasn’t the right word, not exactly. But it was close.

  It had scored the first hit, and its assumptions that it had the edge were replaced by absolute certainty. It devoted every bit of itself it could use in the fight, but that was still only a tiny amount of its capacity. The rest watched…and began to try to calculate the revised odds of success.

  It fired, and then fired again. Its hit had damaged the enemy ship, no question, but it hadn’t knocked out its engines, not entirely at least. It guessed that it had degraded it, somewhat at least, and after a minute or so, it determined that it had knocked out one of the enemy’s guns, too. But the ship still had two firing…and it retained at least a portion of its maneuver.

  SP-01012 continued to calculate, all the while firing at full speed. It fired ten times more, then twenty. The enemy was moving more slowly, definitely, but still, it evaded its fire.

  And it shot back.

  An enemy blast came within one hundred meters, and SP-01012 jerked the vessel hard away. But the enemy stayed close, firing again and again…and coming within five hundred meters both times. The battle had seemed to last forever…but then, things finished up quickly.

  The ship shook hard, struck by a partial hit from the enemy vessel…but almost immediately, it also scored a hit…a second hit. Both ships rattled, damaged by the shots. But the human vessel had been hit twice, and the First Imperium ship had taken only a partial hit. The calculations flew about, modified constantly as more data came in from the scanners. The odds, the chances of SP-01012’s victory had risen, north now, of ninety percent. They were still adjusting, still calculating, when the AI scored a third hit…and the enemy ship lost its engines.

  The vessel was still there, still moving…but it had lost all its power, and it was traveling at the same speed. The percentage chance of SP-01012’s victory was now north of 99%. Once the AI realized that the enemy ship was on a fixed course, it calculated a series of shots…and it hit the target again…three more times. The enemy ship shook hard, and it held in space for just a few seconds.

  Then it vanished, disappearing in a huge ball of energy…and then dissipating until there was nothing left. Nothing save a fading register of energy.

  SP-01012 took an instant, a brief period to enjoy its victory…and then it explored its own damage. Its engines were hit, but not badly, and everything else was still functional. It would take two days, maybe two and a half, to fully repair everything. It pondered, considered moving on…but a couple of days didn’t really matter, especially as it cut its power and went back to being almost undetectable. It had no damage that made it easier to spot, and with everything closed up, it was almost impossible to find. It would take the two days, perhaps two and a half to repair itself fully. Then it would complete the analysis of the system…and move on to the next one.

  It wasn’t sure that Earth-2 was nearby, but now that it had found an enemy scout ship, it was even more convinced than it had been. It knew it was only a guess, but based on its analysis of the enemy, of their scout ships and the other data it had…it was willing to bet that the enemy’s homeworld, Earth-2, was within 3 or 4 planetary jumps of its current position.

  And if that was true, it would find the system, in as little as a week or two…or as much as three or four months, depending on which way it went. It considered requesting aid, asking for another ship. But it didn’t. It wanted to find the enemy homeworld itself…and increase its chances of its leading the fleet in.

  Of becoming number two in the entire Imperium.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gosnard Elliot’s Proclamation

  I do not know how many of you are still out there, how many of you are still capable of resistance…and I do not criticize any of you who choose to just sit still, merely waiting for death, or for liberation. It is up to each of you to decide who you are, and what you will do now. But those of you who can still fight, who will still battle against the enemy, I call upon you now, to sally forth, to join up, as one.

  Our planet has been attacked, and most of our people are dead. But while any of us still live, we remain undefeated. We have become too battered, too spread out to offer a reasonable fight…but that will change now. If you can pull yourself up, if you can rise and fight…join us now. Come to the position we have sent in five days and join us in a last fight. We will battle to the finish, we will defeat the enemy and survive…or we will die.

  I have led you all with pride, and I will do so at least once more. If you are able to join us, you will make us stronger and increase our chances to prevail…to rise up and defeat the enemy.

  To survive.

  Planet Linshire, Beta-Tarzana III

  Earth Two Date 02.07.63

  “Do you think we have a chance…a real one?” Gosnard Elliot had shown a burst of enthusiasm, beyond even any he had displayed since the beginning of the enemy invasion, but that was when he sent out his message. Now he was alone with his closest friend, and for the first time in a while, he exhibited doubts.

  “Yes…I do.”

  Elliot wasn’t sure his friend really believed that or if he was just trying to help him out. He wanted to believe there was sincerity, some at least, and the next words his friend offered helped with that, at least a little.

  “I’m not saying a huge chance, Gos…but the enemy hasn’t been reinforced in a long while. Odds are, they’d have finished us off by now if they’d had more ground forces…but they haven’t. If we end up with a decent number of troops, maybe we can do something.”

  Elliot just looked down at the ground, avoiding Tilman’s gaze for a moment. That was the real question. Would his call gather a decent number of survivors to the final battle or not? In truth, he knew he had about a hundred and fifty still left in his own group, but whether there were thousands of others…or hundreds. Or tens…he just didn’t know anymore. If there were a decent number of survivors, maybe—just maybe—they could prevail.

  Assuming, at least, they had all—or most of them, at least—toughened up, become something like soldiers.

  He knew it would be their last chance, in more ways than one. He was setting up a major fight, one intended to be the last one, and he didn’t plan to order a retreat, no matter what. He knew he might show up and find only a few others, that his forces would be badly outnumbered, but he was intending to fight to the end, even if he had only his hundred-fifty or so with him. He’d already decided he didn’t ha
ve much more time, that he was low on food and ammunition—and everything else he needed. His ability to fight was almost sure to drop faster than the enemy’s, and that meant, whatever his chances, they were the best they would be.

  “The truth is, I don’t know if I really believe we have a chance or not, Til…but I’m pretty damned sure whatever possibility we’ve got, it will only be lower next month, and even less the following one…if any of us live that long. So, we might as well go for it now…fight our best battle to preserve a fraction of our society.” He paused a moment. “If there is still a fleet in the system, if the enemy just can put down more landing forces, we’re dead anyway, but if what is here is all that is left, maybe…just maybe…we can survive. Some of us, at least. A few.” He was fighting off depression, struggling to maintain his viewpoint, at least in public. He’d managed to do it well, at least in the view of his people, but Til was different, and he let go a bit, showed the one thing he hadn’t shown, couldn’t show in public. He figured there was a chance…but also that it was more likely that he was leading his people to their final fight, to their end. He knew he had to recover, that he had to show confidence to his people, and he would. But first, he just looked at Tilman, and for a brief moment, he was unmasked, his real opinion clear on his face.

  He just didn’t know.

  * * *

  AC-230315 walked along the ground, checking as its robot warriors gathered around. It had intercepted an enemy transmission, and while it hadn’t been able to decode it yet, the multidirectional aspect told it the signal was likely a call to action, sent to any and all human forces still remaining. It wondered how well the human commander even knew the status of his separated forces. They were scattered all around, cut off from each other in at least a dozen places…but there were more of them left than AC-230315 had projected. Considerably more.