by Jay Allan
But if there is another like it coming…and another after that…
He stared at his people for perhaps another minute or so. Then he moved, advancing to a chosen position on the line, a spot he guessed would be a good one. He didn’t really know, and he understood that the enemy bots could easily attack anywhere they wanted to…but he felt like he would be right in the middle of things, in the center of the battle.
Where he belonged.
He pulled the rifle off his back, and he checked it to make sure it was armed. He knelt down, below as much cover as he could find. He looked to his right and left, locking eyes with his closest companions, and nodding softly. Then he stared forward, as the clock counted down the final minute.
This is it…the real start of the purpose of your life. It doesn’t matter if you escape, if you live another fifteen or twenty years, or if you die here. All that is important is winning. Victory.
Destroying the Regent.
He breathed in deeply…and a few seconds later he heard gunfire coming in, slamming into the ground in front of him.
The battle had begun.
* * *
The Regent watched the landing area. It analyzed the situation from every possible point of view, and it decided that it had the advantage, though perhaps not decisively. But it also determined that there was definitely a chance of defeat…and it steadily altered its defensive plan to reduce that as much as possible. It didn’t feel fear, not exactly, but the surprise of the enemy ships, and the apparent anti-sensor devices that had allowed seven out of nine of the invading ships to land, were of particular concern. It was the first time it had encountered a true technical superiority from the humans…and it wondered if there weren’t more of them out there. Coming at any time.
It was glad that it had found the human homeworld when it had, that even then its forces were attacking—and hopefully destroying—the planet. It had considered if it would have been better off if the humans discovered it sooner, if it had more of its ships deployed nearby, able to take out the enemy force.
But then, the enemy would also have had its fleet free…and the battle here would be larger. No, it thought, this is better. I will defeat the enemy forces here, and then the main force will destroy their homeworld. It will be as decisive as it can be…despite the enemy’s attempt to attack us here.
Still, it knew it had to do everything correctly to defeat the enemy, to prevent any chance of the enemy penetrating its defenses. Of destroying it.
It realized that it had been too devoted to building ships, to preparing for the attack on the enemy’s home system. It had constructed more or less adequate defenses for itself, but it realized—too late for the encounter now begun—that it had not built enough. It had gambled on its ability to find the enemy before they found it. That couldn’t be fixed, not for the engagement about to begin, but it had realized that once the portal back to the old Imperium opened, it would have to move to a more central location…and it would build far more defenses, regardless of the overall situation. It had underestimated the humans, it supposed, even as its predecessor had…though not as severely.
It checked and rechecked on its advancing bots. The force was fairly small, but it was most of what it had available. It had decided that a direct assault, as powerful as possible, was the best move, and it had held back only enough units for a last ditch defense…which it hoped would not be necessary.
It checked on the location of its four ships, the vessels it had launched to do a sensor sweep of the system. It had recalled them, ordered them to return at once, and in less than an hour they would be back. The enemy ships would likely be caught on the ground or trying to escape from the planet…and they would be destroyed. Even if they managed to take off, to present a real fight, the Regent had determined at least a ninety percent probability that they had offloaded too many of their people, that while they might be able to lift off and fight, it was very likely they would be far weaker than they’d be if they were fully-manned.
Its analysis of the situation was good, in every particular…but still, it considered every possibility, every potential event that could happen…and it couldn’t escape the negatives, the chances the enemy could prevail. Every analysis resulted in it having the best chance…but every one of them also showed the possibility that the enemy might prevail, that they might get through all its defenses.
That they might destroy it.
It reviewed the situation, analyzed it from every particular it could, using more and more of its almost incalculable power to do it…but the answer was always the same. It had the advantage, considerably. But there was no way to eliminate the enemy’s chance of success.
* * *
Captain Leigh watched, waiting, feeling every second pass by…slowly. She’d powered down her ships, brought them to barely three percent engine strength…decelerating now, rather than accelerating. If her plan worked, if the enemy continued to do as she expected, if everything went precisely as she anticipated…she would open fire in seven minutes. That was a short time by almost any standard, but the way things were happening just then, the way every second lingered before passing to the next, she almost couldn’t imagine it.
She watched, her eyes fixed on the enemy ships, watching as they raced back toward the planet. She’d been fairly sure that was what would happen, and she had also bet that the enemy would not be overly wary of a ship hiding out here, even though the Regent had no doubt discovered the existence of the stealth system by then. It just didn’t make sense, something that seemed even more true when she considered the fact that her ship would be on the planet now, too, with the others…save only for her mechanical problems.
She glanced at the chronometer, grateful for the two minutes that had elapsed. She had been watching, counting every second, but then she had lost herself, for a couple minutes, thinking of the Regent, of the entire situation. She didn’t expect to save her people on the planet from all the enemy ships, but she was doing all she could. She’d considered breaking for the planet, landing at least near the other ships…but she would have been behind, and the four approaching vessels would be right behind her. She had determined that she could do the most good by attacking those enemy ships. She would probably lose the fight, but it would take some time…and she had a good chance of taking out one or two of the enemy vessels. That seemed like the way to go, and while she hadn’t discussed it with any of her people, she believed most of them would have agreed.
Her eyes darted back and forth as she checked her statuses…again. The stealth system was operating properly, at least as far as her instruments could tell. The thrusters were at 3%, and her weapons were already fully-charged. More than fully, actually. She planned to fire at 120%, an astonishing rate of power consumption. It was more than made sense in almost any scenario…but she had come to the conclusion that this was an exception. She knew she was putting her ship’s survival on the line…but it wasn’t likely to make it through the fight anyway. All she needed was a few minutes, a dozen or two dozen volleys. Then, her ship would probably be gone anyway, whether her own weapons did it, or the enemy did.
She glanced over at the countdown clock, watching as it dipped below two minutes. There was still no sign she had been detected. She had done everything she could do, and she waited for the remaining moments, silent along with her crew, watching the time pass excruciatingly slowly. Then, as the clock counted down the final seconds, she turned her head and locked eyes with her first officer.
“Fire,” she said, as she looked toward the main screen and watched to see how she did.
* * *
Harmon shifted a bit, bringing his body lower, farther behind the tiny ridge that served as cover. He wasn’t sure just how close that last shot had come, but it was tight enough that he had actually felt it go by. A millimeter closer and it would have drawn blood…and a few centimeters more, it would have finished him. The panic almost took him, for a few seconds at least, but he knew
he wouldn’t even get the chance at destroying the Regent if he didn’t pull himself together. He knew his people would try to complete the mission, of course, whether he was with them or not, but something told him any chance of success involved him…right until the end.
He knew that was baseless, that he had no way of knowing just how his people might do if he was killed. But he still felt it, as sure as anything he had ever known. He didn’t expect to survive the mission, not really, but he was determined to endure until the final fight.
He fired, his aim somewhat hindered by his acts of self-protection. All along the hidden lane, the others aligned close to him were firing as well, blasting the approaching enemy bots. But there were fewer people left fighting than there had been moments before. The enemy’s fire was two or three times as much as from his line, and he could see at least five of his people down, and that was only in his immediate vicinity. He didn’t have any real idea of how many bots his people had destroyed—except that it was a decent number—but he guessed that his own forces, all of them, had lost at least thirty people so far. And the fight—the first fight—was still going on.
He wondered if his forces were battling most of the Regent’s forces or just the first little bit. He was hopeful, everything he’d seen suggested that the enemy had focused on its offensive forces, that its defenses were relatively small. But he didn’t know that, and part of him was prepared for another array of bots…and another after that. He didn’t know how his people would survive that…assuming they even won against the first batch of enemies…but he knew they had to.
They just had to…
He readjusted himself, stopped firing for a few seconds to take aim again, to get the best results from his fire. Then he opened up again…and a few seconds later, he saw an enemy bot…and then another one. The robots were closing, coming against his line. In a few minutes, they would overrun his people and close on the ships…or they would be destroyed, and his survivors would continue on their way.
What would they do? Where would they go? He knew his information was spotty, that he didn’t really know where the Regent was…or what else might lie between him and it.
It doesn’t matter, he thought. One thing at a time, one step and then another.
And this one is taking everything I’ve got now.
He aimed more carefully, crouched low, trying to avoid the enemy fire…and he flipped his fire switch to fully automatic and did all he could to bury the enemy under fire.
* * *
Leigh sat, stone still, watching, waiting to see the results of her first shot. She knew the fight would go on, that it would last some time, at least if her stealth system and navigational plan continued to work for a while. But she knew the first shot would be the best…or at least it could be. She had what appeared to be total surprise, with the enemy ships moving without any defensive maneuvers. She hoped the first shot, and perhaps the second one as well, would be deadly…but she just didn’t know. Not yet.
Not for a few more seconds. She saw her weapons unload…and then she watched as they slammed into the lead vessel of the enemy formation. The shot was powerful, at least for a ship the size of hers, and the hit was as direct as it could be. Her three main guns fired, and every one of them scored a direct hit, tearing open the hull of the enemy vessel, and hopefully knocking many of its systems offline.
She felt something like relief, even as her ship shook hard one way, and then another. She was doing everything possible to extend the fight, to stretch it out as long as possible. She knew the enemy would be able to target the locations of her shots, and while that wasn’t precision monitoring, it would become better and better with each subsequent shot. If she continued to fight, sending out blast after blast, they would eventually manage to triangulate her location…or at least very close to it. She could delay that by evasive maneuvering, but that would become less effective as time passed…and with every hit she scored.
The first enemy ship was badly damaged, her first three shots taking it amidships, blasting through the hull to deep inside. She knew almost immediately that the hits had done well, that they had badly damaged the vessel. But it was perhaps fifteen seconds later that she truly realized how effective her first shots were as the ship almost erupted, and explosions from within burst outward.
She felt a burst of joy, at least a little one, but it was short lived. She hoped her second shot would be as effective, but the enemy engaged their evasive maneuvers before her guns were recharged. Her second round of firing scored only one hit, the other two shots missing entirely. And a few seconds later, the enemy vessels opened fire on her. They all missed, none of their first shots coming even close to her ship…but she knew it meant the battle was now two sided. Whether the enemy could find her ship, beyond its firing points, of course, remained a question.
She stared at the screen, at the enemy vessels. Three of them were darting around wildly, providing strong evasive forces to her…but the first one was badly damaged. It was moving—barely—and she could see that it was very badly hurt. She knew the other three ships were out there, and dangerous, but she felt the need to destroy the first vessel.
Her head turned, toward her first officer, and she uttered the words she wanted to say, that she knew he wanted to hear. “All weapons target the first ship…we’ve got to destroy it. We’ve got to destroy them all.”
She knew she didn’t have much chance of winning against all four enemy ships, at least she understood that on some level. But her blood was up, and she was in the battle, full bore. She would win it, defeat the enemy force…or she would die. Either way, there was nothing to do now but fight. Fight with everything she had.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bunker Under Cutter Research Compound (Home of the Mules)
Ten Kilometers West of Victory City, Earth Two
Earth Two Date 04.12.63
Achilles felt something, a combination of factors really. There was sadness, coming at him from the loss of so many of his orbital platforms, and so many ships…but satisfaction as well, at the damage his people had put out in return for what they had lost. He still knew the battle was mostly even, that the enemy had at least a fifty percent chance of wiping out all his defenses and shattering Earth-2. But fifty percent was a lot better than he’d figured before, even if he still knew some portion of the agreeable fifty percent entailed Earth-2 being damaged, perhaps badly.
He got up, moved across the way, toward the other Mules controlling fire from the remaining fortresses. He was glad about the damage the forts had done, the number of ships they had damaged and destroyed…but then he looked at their condition, at the seventy percent of them that had been destroyed already. The survivors were still firing at various levels, but he knew it wouldn’t last long, that the entire ring of facilities would be gone before long. And then, the enemy would finish off the orbital platforms that built ships…and they would destroy Earth-2’s ship-building capacity for years.
Then the battle would advance…perhaps to the most vital stage. The main fight, back several hours from Earth-2, was still going strong, many of the ships in the human fleet being destroyed but taking down a significant number of the enemy vessels as well. And Frette’s ships were moving fast, trying to catch and engage the last of the enemy fleet. But he knew, as he watched, that the forts would be destroyed, and that however much Frette put into it, however wildly her ships advanced and destroyed enemy vessels, she would never stop them all. He had known this, in a manner of speaking, all along, but now, despite the strong performance of all his forces, he was sure.
The enemy was going to close…they were going to bomb Earth-2.
He’d known it all along, he realized, and it wasn’t the total battle. The enemy could destroy the entire surface area, but to wipe out the residents, to really win the fight, they would have to bomb the planet repeatedly and deeply. And Frette’s ships were close behind.
Achilles knew the battle would be close, whiche
ver way it went, but understanding something like that, really understanding it, was difficult. Whatever his thoughts on the future, on the existence of Earth-2 and its inhabitants, he had always known that the Mules were superior, that whatever guarantees and assurances he gave the others, his own people would ultimately rule. But now he sat, looking at the screens, at the battle unfolding all around, and he realized he didn’t have any more idea what would happen than the Tanks or the regular humans did. All they could do, all of them, was fight, to the end…and hope for the best.
And that is precisely what he was going to do.
* * *
Vincennes sat, bleeding from his brow, from the wound he had received…and which he had totally ignored. His station had been hit, many times, but it was still in the fight. That position was impressive, especially considering over eighty percent of his installations had been destroyed outright, or at least battered beyond meaningful responses.
His stations had given out damage, too, perhaps even more than he had expected. They had destroyed forty enemy ships outright and damaged many more. But he knew his time in the fight was almost over. He imagined that some of his people would survive, at least a few, the last crews of the totally disabled stations. They would probably be left alone, at least for a while. But at least three quarters of his people were already dead, and even though they had known that likelihood, it still cut deeply at him. He knew he was likely to join them, soon.
