by Alex Kings
He sent a message to the organisers, to confirm himself and those crew who had accompanied him as alive. He sent a few more messages to arrange a meeting, then called the ship.
A Tethyan shuttle took him and the others to a space station orbiting Ghroga, which had been turned into a site for medical facilities and a meeting point.
The low ceiling was marked by heat lamps, all turned off, leaving neon strip lighting to cast a cold light over everything. To the left and right, great regions were filled with bed holding the injured. In the middle, other groups crowded round screens are talking to one another.
Yilva stood looking out at the masses of people. Her tail lay limply on the ground. All the strength seemed to have drained from her, “I failed them,” she said.
“You couldn't have known how it would turn out,” Hanson told her. “ besides which, it did work, even if only for a moment. It might not be a dead end after all. We all knew it was a high-risk strategy. Now all we can do is patch ourselves up and come up with a batter plan.”
“Half my team are dead,” Yilva said quietly. “That is my fault. They …” She trailed off, ears flat against her head. She took a tablet from her gown and extended it. A faint thread of strength crept into her voice. “Their deaths will not be in vain. I have telemetry from the battle. I will study it until … until …” She shook her head.
“James!” It was Chang. He strode towards them. “I'm glad you're alive. I saw the Dauntless destroyed just as we were jumping.”
Words caught in Hanson's throat. “Yes,” he said after a moment.
They were both silent for a while. Nothing they could say seemed to meet the gravity of the situation.
“I'm calling a meeting in 24 hours,” said Chang. “Everyone who made it out should have arrived at Ghroga by then. We can discuss our next moves.”
Next moves. There didn't seem to be any moves left. Just a few desperate shots into the darkness.
So that what they'd do, Hanson thought.
“I'll be there,” he said.
Chang nodded, and headed off. Yilva, too, retreated to find her group of Petaurs.
Hanson retreated to look out a giant, broad window. Below, night was falling over Ghroga's dusty orange and brown surface.
Hanson recalled the orbital distance and, mainly to keep his thoughts from wondering elsewhere, calculated how long it would be before he saw daybreak from this window.
A little over two and a half hours, as it turned out.
He'd just worked that out when he heard footsteps running towards him. Before he could react, someone jumped on him.
It was Agatha.
He caught her easily, taking a step back to absorb the momentum. She grinned down at him and kissed him. “You're alive!”
Despite everything, Hanson felt himself break into a smile. He kissed her back. “So are you.”
He let her down, though she continued to cling to him for a few seconds more.
“We've really got to stop almost dying on each other like this,” Hanson said.
Agatha nodded and made a soft noise of agreement.
“What happened?” Hanson asked.
“Varanid ship picked us up on its way out.”
Srak came lumbering up beside her. “Had an argument with its captain,” he said with pride. “Then a drink.”
“I wouldn't expect any less,” Hanson told him.
Srak angled his head and peered at Agatha who was still holding Hanson. “Adorable,” he said, with a rumbling laugh.
“Shut up,” said Agatha, pulling away and thumping his nose.
“Was there anyone else with you?” Hanson asked.
“Sergeant Moore and her team, and some of the engineering crew,” said Srak.
Hanson smiled. That was everyone, then. They'd all made it out alive.
Feeling at least a little more ready to take on IL, he looked out over Ghroga. It was a map of lit cityscapes and glowing orange lava flows. Night had fallen, but dawn would be coming soon.
*
Dodecahedral ships patrolled the space around Laikon and the gas giant it orbited as normal. They constructed sensor sweeps, tested their weapons, and sent back reports in excruciating detail, just as they had done for the past century.
It was just a facade.
The Albascene were, in the calmest possible way, panicking. They had lost their old and powerful allies. They had lost their workforce. Laikon's economy had collapsed, and the government had instituted martial law just to hold things together.
Outside Laikon, space shivered, then rippled like the surface of a disturbed pond. It burst open as a wormhole inflated, several kilometres across.
Deep beneath the ocean surface, in Laikon's military headquarters, a dozen Albascene watched the screens in horror.
It was an Ancient ship.
It hung over the little moon, a menacing crown of thorns with lightning arcing between its spikes.
Moments later, the highest levels of government were watching the live feed as the Ancient ship glided towards them.
“Sir,” a junior officer told his superior. “It's sending a signal.”
Chapter 56: Our Rightful Place
Hanson had joined Admiral Chang, several Tethyans, and Chancellor Kuta in a meeting room in the Varanid Parliament when the message came through.
The room's comms went off, high urgency, and Kuta waved a hand to accept it. A gruff Varanid voice spoke in Isk. “Chancellor, the Tethyans have picked a public broadcast in Albascene space. You might want to have a look at it.”
“I can confirm that,” said a Tethyan.
“Acknowledged,” Kuta told the Varanid on the other end of the line. “Put it through.”
A screen on the wall activated.
The scene showed a small group of Albascene in a decorated office. Given the designs on their suits, these were the political and military leaders of the Albascene Nation.
One of them was speaking. “Citizens, we all know times have been difficult lately. The galaxy is changing quickly, and yes, our nation has struggled. But I assure you, the Albascene will prevail. That is why I am pleased to announce that, at 16.00 hours today, the Albascene Nation became a formal ally of the New Terran Dominion.”
The view changed to show a fleet of dodecahedral dreadnoughts flying alongside an Ancient ship over Laikon. It was followed by publicity shots of Albascene military officers inspecting a Blank, while Dominion scientists explained the workings.
The view switched back to the office. “As a gesture of our new friendship,” the Albascene said, “they have already given us full control of a group of 2,000 of their modified workforce, known as Blanks, to help fill the gap left by the Petaur Rebellion.”
“Really smart move, guys,” Hanson said.
“The Terran Dominion are the greatest power in this galaxy. They believe in order, as do we, and we shall be their first and greatest allies. We will fight alongside them and take our rightful place beside them as true masters of the galaxy. Thank you.”
The transmission ended.
*
Weeks passed.
The fleet licked its wounds, counted its lost and dead (close to a third of the ships and combatants they'd started with), and began to reorganise itself. The Tethyan battleships slowly healed the worst of their scars. Repairs continued apace on the others.
Still, the atmosphere was tense. Everyone knew they had no means of defending against IL, or the Terran Dominion, as it now styled itself. If an Ancient ship appeared in the skies, they'd lose Ghroga. For the moment, Pierce seemed occupied with the Albascene alliance, growing new Blanks, and unwilling to spread his forces too thin, but that could change at any moment.
Hanson spent his time in meetings with Chang, Kuta and the Firmament's Admiral, going over intel and looking at possible strategies.
As part of checking up on his crew, he and Agatha went down to a lab on Ghroga's surface.
There, he found Yilva, asleep in front of a compu
ter terminal. She was hunched up with her head resting in her arms, her tail twitching occasionally. The screen was still on, inches from her nose, displaying lines of code and several wavefunction diagrams.
Around her, the lab carried on as normal. It was a group Hanson ever would have expected to see before the war. Varanids and Petaurs, plus a few Tethyans and humans looking at tablets together, running tests and making plans.
While Hanson looked around, Vyren floated up to them in his globe of water. “Captain, Agatha,” he said.
Hanson nodded towards Yilva. “Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yes. She does that often,” said Vyren. He paused. “Well, alright in a narrow sense. I fear our research has stalled. She hasn't been to bed in the last four days. Perhaps it is best not to wake her.”
Even as he said it, one of Yilva's ears radar'd around to point at them. Her tail flicked, and she lifted her head to look back at them. “Hello,” she said blearily.
Agatha put her hand on Yilva's shoulder. “You won the war for us yet, girl?”
Yilva blinked, her eyes still half closed. “Not yet,” she murmured.
“By the way, your breath stinks,” offered Agatha. This was her idea of encouragement.
“So does yours.” Yilva's whiskers twitched and she let out a small snort of laughter.
Hanson looked back to Vyren. “What's the problem?”
“We have a noise signal,” said Vyren. “But every time we try to use it, the Ancient ship adapts. It figures out the signal is meaningless and ignores it.”
By this time, Yilva was perking up. “We have tried more organised signals, but the Ancient technology always figures out what we're up to and adapts.”
“Could the pilots controlling the ship do it?” asked Hanson.
Yilva gave a small laugh and shook her head. “No. This problem is far too complex for them. We are working against the Ancient ship here, against its residual intelligence. That's the problem. It's like … trying to convince someone to do what you want, when you don't know their language and only have a phrasebook to help you.”
“So get a translator,” Agatha said, idly picking at dirt beneath her fingernails.
“We've tried the Afanc,” said Yilva. She gestured at a bulkwave transmitter in the corner of the room. “We have a direct line.”
“What happens when you try to use it?” Hanson asked.
“It gives us command sequences. We try them. The Ancient technology adapts.”
Hanson frowned. “Yes, but … if you want to use the Afanc as a translator …” He gestured towards Agatha. “Then that's not the way to do it. Communication is a two-way street. The Afanc has to be there to give feedback.”
Yilva blinked a few times, then swung around to the computer terminal again. “Maybe,” she said. “Yes! That might work! I'd need to try it next time we call the Afanc, but … this could be the solution!”
“There you go,” Hanson said to Agatha. “You might have just saved the galaxy.”
Agatha stared at them both. “It was a joke,” she said.
Chapter 57: I Want a Planet
The Varanid Parliament meeting room was broad, warm, and decorated on all sides with mosaics. Hanson was alone. His boots tapped lightly against the flagstones as he paced back and forth.
The screen on the wall showed a waiting icon against a blue-grey background.
When the waiting icon vanished, Hanson came to a halt and faced the screen. Bloodtooth appeared on the screen. Behind him, a human in a scruffy navy blue suit leaned against the wall, listening. Presumably that was the Sweetblade representative. He said nothing.
“Hanson. You lost the battle over Tethya. This is not a move that fills me with confidence,” Bloodtooth said.
“It's nice to see you too,” Hanson said. “How are things going on the Afanc?”
“As well as could be expected,” said Bloodtooth. “We are rebuilding, slowly. We have learned to control it, after a fashion.” He paused, and his segments turned slightly. “This thing has its own will. We can only make requests of it. But it is co-operative … usually.”
“Good,” said Hanson. Best, of course, not to mention that he knew most of this already, given Yilva's direct line to the Afanc. “We lost the battle over Tethya because our plan to disrupt the Ancient ships failed. But we may have fixed that problem now.” Time to drop the bombshell. “But we need to take the Afanc into battle for it to work.”
“It has no weapons,” said Bloodtooth.
“It doesn't need any. It just needs to send a signal. We will protect it.”
Bloodtooth was silent for several seconds. “I do not like this idea,” he said. “I want to hear the plan for this battle.” In the background, the Sweetblade representative nodded.
“I expected you would,” said Hanson. “That's why I called you now. We're just about to have a council of war. As an ally, you're free to sit in.”
“Very well,” said Bloodtooth.
Soon after, the heavy wooden doors swung open. A procession of several Varanids came in, including Kuta. Following them were a group of Tethyans, then Chang and other high-ranking members of the Alliance fleet, then Yilva, leading several Petaurs, including Charin and Iya. They in turn greeted Bloodtooth.
“Do we have access to the Afanc?” Chang said.
“If Unity and Sweetblade like our plan,” said Hanson.
This was not entirely true. If they didn't, Yilva would ask the Afanc to come to the battle anyway. Still, things would be easier if the Afanc's inhabitants came willingly.
Chang nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Then let's assume we have the Afanc. As I understand it, it will have a better chance at stopping the Ancient ships.”
Yilva nodded. “It can dynamically respond to the Ancient ships using their own communications protocols. And it probably has a higher authority than whoever is piloting the ship. I'll need to be onboard to work with it, providing noise messages it can play with.”
“I'll take that as a yes,” Chang said.
“So we take the Afanc into the battlefield,” said Kuta. “It starts sending its noise signal. What happens?”
“The Ancient ship will freeze … or start acting erratically.” Yilva shrugged. “It is hard to predict.”
“I noticed you used the singular. We might be facing more than one Ancient ship. How well will the signal work?”
“I do not know,” said Yilva. “It depends on the Afanc. I would say it can stop one, for sure. Two … paperchase. Three is a stretch. Four is too many.”
“So we'll have to go after isolated ships,” murmured Kuta.
“In that case, we need another line of defence,” Hanson said. “I think Commander Lanik came up with the answer: Chaff.”
The Tethyans turned to him. “In what way will … chaff … serve as a defence?” one of them said.
“The projectiles the Ancients ships use, those ripples of space, are unstable,” Lanik said. “If they hit matter, they begin to collapse and lose a lot of their energy. If we use a shield of chaff, we can reduce their impact. It's not perfect, but it might stop them from getting one-hit-kills.”
Chang nodded. “There wasn't enough time to use the idea in the last battle, but this time we'll come prepared.”
“What will work as chaff?” Kuta asked.
“I used missiles and kinetics,” said Lanik. “But any matter should work.”
Kuta thought for a moment. “We have many shuttles and small craft. If they're automated, they may suffice.”
“We will use ice,” the Firmament said.
Bloodtooth spoke for the first time. “So you have a means to immobilise the Ancient ships, and a way to defend against their attacks. How will you attack?”
“Monopole cannons are effective if used in sufficient numbers,” said the Firmament.
“And what about the rest of the fleet?” asked Bloodtooth.
“They will engage with the fleet supporting the Ancient ships,” said the Firma
ment.
“That's not good enough,” Kuta said. “We saw how many Battleships you needed just to make a dent in those ships. It'll take, what, ten minutes of continuous attack before you can inflict any damage? You just don't have enough firepower.”
“Then what do you suggest?” the Firmament asked.
“Put monopole cannons on every ship,” Hanson said. “You did it with the Dauntless.”
Kuta looked at him. With a growing smile, she turned back to the Firmament. “Yes. I like this idea.”
“We can't,” said the Firmament. “We don't have the manpower.”
The meeting fell apart into muttering, suggestions, and arguments.
“We do,” said Yilva.
Everyone fell silent.
“All of the Free Petaurs working together. We know our way around ships.” She grinned. “I already have a good idea of how the one on the Dauntless worked. Show us the schematics, and we will have every ship in the fleet fitted with a monopole cannon in a couple of weeks.”
“Are you sure you can do this?” the Firmament asked.
“Absolutely. But it won't come cheap.” Yilva looked around the meeting. “I want a planet.”
Chapter 58: Uruth the Hiveless
Uruth looked around the interior of the Black Cat. Human ships, Albascene ships, Varanid ships, he thought – they were all the same. Too clean. Too cold. Antiseptic, almost.
“Here we are,” said Operative Serafin.
A ship resolved on the screen. A Glaber Hunter, ugly and irregular and bristling with weapons.
Seeing it gave Uruth a pang of nostalgia. He throttled the feeling.
“This is Hive …” Serafin frowned at the display. “I don't actually know how to pronounce that.”
“Scrhruthrnuldrthrurn,” Uruth said effortlessly.
Serafin glanced at him. “Right.” Shaking her head, she turned back to the console. “Hailing them now. Do your thing.”
Uruth leaned in over the microphone and switched to his own language. “Hive of the skull, of the open throat, of the spear, I invite you now to glorious battle, to find a common enemy and crush them beneath our heel. I am Uruth, speaking from Hive … Earth.”
