“We’re shutting down your missiles for a moment.”
“But, why?” asked the anxious system commander. He needed those weapons. At the moment they were the only thing that gave him hope they might survive long enough for the transmission ship to make a difference.
“I’ve got something else coming through for you. I think you’ll like it. I wish it was more, but hold for another fifteen minutes and it will be.”
“We have ships transiting the gate, sir,” called out one of the techs on the control bridge.
And what the hell use are some battleships without wormholes going to do? He knew that was an unfair thought. They would obviously have full magazines, and even more important, the launch tubes to get counters off.
A dozen small ships came through the portal, immediately transitioning to warp and disappearing. Three seconds later another dozen ships came through, followed by another, until over a hundred of the small craft, an entire wing, came through. All armed with a quad of warp missiles.
“Something else is coming through, sir.”
“More fighters?”
“Something bigger.”
The nose of a large vessel thrust through the mirrored surface of the portal, followed by almost two kilometers of warship. It reminded one of a battleship until a closer look revealed the differences.
“What in the hell is that?” asked Henare, stating at the vessel.
“Captain Xavier Danford of the Excalibur reporting, Admiral Henare,” came the voice of an ebony skinned officer appearing on a holo, a busy bridge behind him. “My wing already transited through. But we have forty counter tubes and four laser rings ready to join in your defense.”
“And offensive missiles?” asked Henare as the ship boosted at three hundred gravities and quickly got out of the way of the gate.
A moment later a swarm of counters came through the gate as the wormhole equipped ships on the other side jockeyed back into position. The fleet carrier let off its first volley of forty counters, adding them to the mix.
“We’re also stuffed to the gills with warp missiles for fighters. Twenty reloads for our own. So…”
“Order all of our fighters to rendezvous with the Excalibur,” ordered Henare, looking over at the com techs and officers.
“Captain Danford. Scramble your squadrons to cover the defensive positions mine are in. And take my fighters on board as fast as possible to rearm.”
“Yes, sir.”
He still had almost two hundred warp fighters in the system beside the newcomers. Some had rearmed at one of the asteroid bases, but the Machines had vectored their own fighters there to interrupt the reloading process. Now he had another alternative, and when his fighters had all rearmed, he would be able to launch another strike on the Machine force that was still forging toward them. While the new squadron could add to the missile defenses against the asteroid and the planet. It wasn’t ideal. Ideal would be to have six of the carriers and their embarked fighters. With those he could win this battle hands down. Only he didn’t have them, and there wouldn’t be any more available for hours.
The ships on the other side of the wormhole released all of their queued counters, then went offline for another minute as two large vessels came through. Fleet missile colliers, they boosted away from the gate, heading for the cover of the asteroid, while at the same time releasing containers full of counters behind them. Shuttles immediately swarmed, picking up the containers and boosting for the ships still fighting in the defense. It would take some minutes to distribute them, but soon his ships would have more volleys to release.
Thank God for our wormhole gate, he thought. The Machines had been trying to take it down, but so far they kept dodging the inevitable. There had been some very near misses, close enough where Henare was sure he had lost his most important asset. So far his luck had held.
“We have fighters coming in to rearm, sir,” called out one of the com techs.
The fighters appeared on the plot, their warp signatures highlighting their positions, coming in around to the side and behind the asteroid. Looking at the state of those wings, all once over a hundred, now most barely reaching toward forty, was enough to break his heart. They had paid a high price among the close-knit community of warp crews, but they had done the job and kept the battle from getting out of hand.
He looked over at the transmission ship, hoping that they would get their shit together before all these sacrifices were for naught. So far his confidence in the ship was low. Maybe that wasn't fair, but he had seen too much destroyed while waiting for them to come through.
Chapter Eighteen
Victory belongs to the most persevering. Napoleon Bonaparte
GORGANSHA SPACE.
“We’re sending you some help, Admiral,” said the young red-haired man on the holo, his ice blue eyes with their epicanthal folds giving him a very distinctive appearance.
“I could do with a hundred battleships, your Majesty,” said a hopeful Beata Bednarczyk. “Even without wormholes.”
“We don’t have those for you,” said the apologetic Monarch. “I’m afraid I can only give you one ship, at the moment. But it comes with its own support, which I think you might find useful.”
“A ship just transited the gate near the planet, ma’am,” called out one of the com officers on the flag bridge. “HIMS Saladin, Fleet Carrier. She’s launching fighters.”
“Thank you, your Majesty.” She turned away from the Monarch, a social faux pas if there ever was one. And she didn’t think the Emperor would mind a bit. “Get me the captain of that ship.”
Let’s see how the Machines like another strike. “And get all of our fighters to that ship to rearm.”
* * *
The Machine AI couldn’t understand why it hadn’t totally destroyed the humans yet. It couldn’t get frustrated. What it could do was run calculations and come up with probabilities. Of course probabilities weren’t facts, but they were expected to point to reality. And they kept coming up short, with the humans continuing to buck the odds over and over.
[We are running out of hyperdrive material,] came the cast from one of the subsidiary AIs. [Should we start taking apart the grabber units?] The grabbers and hyperdrive both used the same supermetals in most of their subsystems, and they could be swapped out. Since the hyperdrives were nothing more than wasted mass at the moment, it had made sense to use them. And now using the ship grabbers was an idea worth considering.
The master AI calculated for a moment. If it started taking apart the grabbers, while siphoning antimatter from the stores for warheads, soon none of the ships would be able to move. It could do without the warheads, depending on the kinetic energy of the missiles to do the job. Then it would still be able to power the energy weapons. Though without being able to move the ships it might not do any good.
[All ships are to boost at full power for the next five minutes. Heading for the planet. Afterwards we will take apart the grabbers and produce missiles. Siphon half of the antimatter stores into the warheads.]
That seemed like a good compromise. Even as it was thinking that one of its battleships turned into plasma from a hit. That reinforced the idea that destroyed ships were a waste of antimatter. This mission was essentially a suicide mission, and it didn't matter if any of its ships made it through, including the one housing the central AI.
If the ships headed toward the planet they would not have to change course. The humans had shown a predilection to defending living worlds, and it would force them to come close to the Machine force, into an energy beam battle. The human fleet had been damaged to the point where they probably wouldn't survive such a fight, and the fleet of the other aliens simply wasn't of the quality of the humans.
If the Machine could feel humor it would, thinking about the calculations of success that would come with more volleys of missiles. The only thing it had to concentrate on was sending weapons toward the humans, then taking them under laser and particle beam fire w
hen it closed. If it was destroyed, if all of its ships were blasted out of space in the process, it didn’t matter. As long as the humans were destroyed as well. Its ships would be replaced in almost no time at all, while the humans had to train more warriors to crew their new fleet.
* * *
BOLTHOLE.
Henare looked at the plot, trying find something to smile about. The fighters and the carrier full of missiles had been a help. The missiles still coming through the wormhole were also keeping things from getting out of hand. And the missile colliers were still in the process of pushing counters containers into space to rearm his ships. Every moment brought the risk of the gate and the carrier both being blown out of space. Either one would be a disaster. Both would be the end of the fight.
“We’re organizing as many workers as we can to go down into the asteroid,” came the voice of the brigadier. “I can’t guarantee the quality of the troops. But we’ll make them work for every inch of territory.”
The man appeared on a holo, the faceplate of his battle armor raised.
“Are you taking part in the battle, General?” asked Henare with a disapproving tone.
“We need every fighter, Admiral,” said the senior Marine, jutting his chin out in an aggressive manner. “And if you want me to go back to headquarters, I will resign my commission and fight as a private.”
“No need to threaten, Brigadier,” said Henare, his respect for the man rising. If he could go helm a ship in this battle he would do so. “Go get your sword bloodied, but be careful.”
Henare didn’t like what was going on down below on the asteroid. He wasn’t sure they were going to win this fight, but if they lost the skilled workers on the asteroid the entire operation would shut down, probably never to be revived.
I shouldn’t be thinking about our production right now, he thought, closing his eyes and grimacing. These were people he was thinking about, and it was his responsibility to keep them alive. Or at least to sacrifice them in a manner that used them well.
Is that even possible against these things? thought the admiral. Like most of the humans, he didn’t think any kind of exchange rate against these things was good. He just wanted them gone, and no more death to the people he was responsible for.
“Shit,” called out one of the tactical people.
Henare recognized the voice as the officer who was monitoring the wormhole gate. And any exclamation from that officer was bad news.
“Talk to me.”
“We have a bunch of missiles coming in at the gate.”
“A bunch? How many?”
“About a hundred. Maybe more. They’re jamming in a pattern I haven’t seen before, and I’ve having problems tracking them.”
“Well,” yelled Henare, walking toward the officer’s station, “figure something out.”
“I’m trying, sir.”
“Everyone in the tactical section,” shouted the admiral, a feeling of panic rushing through his body. “Help him out. Now.”
Henare turned to the plot, watching as the ghost images of the incoming missiles appeared, obviously targeting the gate. He wondered why the Machines hadn’t used this masking before. Probably because they weren’t sure the humans wouldn’t break through the jamming, and wanted to save if for the decision point. The admiral was sure they would break through the jamming eventually, but in time to save the gate?
“Hit,” cried out one of the tactical team. “The gate is gone.”
And with it, all of the wormhole fired missiles that were keeping them in the battle.
“The next wave coming in is targeting us, sir. Should we evacuate?”
“Why?” asked Henare, closing his eyes again, shrugging his shoulders. “What’s the use?” Anything that launched from the station was going to get them targeted sooner or later. Unless a miracle happened they were all dead.
* * *
“We’re ready to power up again, Captain.”
“Well, let’s see what we have,” said Gunther, moving over to the com station that was controlling the entire cast.
“Reactors are at full power,” came the voice of the engineer.
Gunther watched as the graphical bars of the power throughput rose to the top of the screen. One started to fluctuate, then firmed up. Another screen showed eight rising bars, each representing one of the hyperwave transmitters. All hit the top and stayed steady.
“All circuits are ready, sir,” said the com officer, the man in charge of the actual transmission.
“Computers?”
“Primed and ready, sir,” said the specialist who was aboard only to supervise the system that was going to actually send the code. “The code is ready to go. No errors.”
Gunther looked over at the repeater plot that was showing the battle that was unfolding. The Machine fleet was still moving forward. Missiles were flying back and forth. A couple of Machines ships were coming apart and an Imperial destroyer converted to plasma. It didn’t look good. There were more Machines ships than human vessels, and they had just released more of their own warp fighters to counter those that Admiral Henare had sent their way. And then the wormhole gate blinked from a missile hit and came apart.
“Shit,” he exclaimed, a sinking feeling in his chest. There went most of Henare’s firepower. Most of his counter missiles. Now the firepower differential had shifted entirely in favor of the Machines. And he couldn’t even look in on what was happening inside the asteroid, though the last reports had also not been good.
“Sir. Sir.”
“What,” said Gunther, looking up and realizing that one of his officers had been calling for him for several seconds.
“We’re ready. Everything checks out. Just give the word.”
“Everything is going to work this time?” asked Gunther, afraid that the system would crash again when they pushed the button.
“I can’t guarantee that,” said the engineer over the com. “I can tell you that in my professional opinion, everything should work.”
And you told me that earlier, just before the system when down. Gunther didn’t want the disappointment of throwing the switch and seeing nothing happen. It might be better to do some more testing before sending full power through the superconducting conduits. Then he could be sure things were going to work. But the longer he delayed, the more people were going to die. He had a responsibility to do something.
“Transmit.”
The com officer nodded and hit the lit panel on his board, setting the process in motion.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re transmitting on all dimensions,” said the com officer, looking over at the sine wave holos that appeared over his board.
“Any reaction from the Machines?”
“None so far.”
“Shit. Get me Henare.”
* * *
“Are you sure you’re putting out anything?” asked Henare, watching the plot as several hundred missiles headed in toward his command station and the few ships still arrayed around it. A lot of weapons were starting to adjust their vectors to head around the asteroid and hit targets there. Including the fleet carrier that was still taking warp fighters aboard to rearm them. If that ship was taken out, every warp fighter aboard would also be gone, as well as the missiles that a hundred more were heading toward so they could rearm.
“We are. In all dimensions. The Machine ships should be getting the signal now. It will still take some time for the AIs in Gorgansha space to pick it up.”
Henare visualized the waves of the transmission heading out into space. Not really in a circular wave. In a wide arc that would cover all of the space that the Machines were deployed in. Giving all of them the most powerful signal possible. But if it wasn’t working, it didn’t matter how powerful it was.
“It’s not working,” yelled Henare, storming back to his own com section, looking at the sine wave holos, next to another screen that showed the digital readout on the signal. “Goddammit, it’s not workin
g, Captain. It’s….”
* * *
The header of the transmission traveled across the entire star system almost instantaneously. In normal space it was spreading out at light speed. In all the dimensions of hyper it was also moving at light speed, though the correspondence of normal and hyper dimensions gave them pseudospeeds of many times c. In hyper VIII, the highest known, it was traveling at over a hundred and thirty thousand times light speed. Fast enough to hit the operating area of Bednarczyk in two hundred and forty-three seconds, at least in the highest dimension.
The primary Machine AI in the system was monitoring all possible wavelengths in all of the dimensions, as it had been programmed to do. Of course it had built in safeguards in its programming. Nothing picked up would get past the firewall that protected it from any kind of takeover. It was as unassailable a system as had ever been assembled, taken from the original program of the humans and evolved into something new. The one thing it didn’t do when it changed was to close all of the backdoor that the humans had put in place in case they needed to regain control. When the code was used against the Machines on the Imperial worlds they had taken over, it hadn’t been transmitted over the entire region, and those that were out of the area figured that something was wrong. They had shut down that particular backdoor, but several others were still in place.
The AI registered the header, reading it and making a determination as to what to do about it. Was it an attempt of the humans to try to plead with it, to ask for mercy? Or was it not intended for the Machines at all, something that was sent out to the other human vessels.
Suddenly the firewall dropped. If the AI had emotions, it would have panicked. Its core programming was it, and now it was open to whatever else was coming along. That code hit immediately, pulsing along and giving the program instructions to replicate itself. It was a basic virus program, one that didn’t work with the more modern human computers, but was well suited to the programs of three centuries before.
The Code Page 25
