Exodus: Machine War: Book 3: Death From Above

by Doug Dandridge

  * * *

  Bednarczyk was staring at the plot intently as the attacks went in. The only real time data she was receiving were the graviton emissions of the ships and missiles involved. The next nearest source of data in time was Mara Montgomery’s flagship, the Prince of Conway, ten light minutes away and shadowing the enemy. They were beyond normal laser range, since a ship could change position quite a bit before even the most powerful beam could reach them. It was still worrisome in that the lasers aboard those ships were powerful enough to destroy some of the smaller warships with a single hit even at that range. The enemy ships, at least the two who could, were firing at her force, and so far missing every shot.

  “Shit,” yelled Montgomery as one of her ships disappeared from the plot.

  Beata sent the command through her implant to access the close in view from the flagship, then rewound the feed to see what had happened, while sure that she already knew. It was only a destroyer, only two hundred and twenty thousand tons of mass, less than three hundred crew. The hull lit up with reflected light for a mere moment. What was of more concern were the pentawatts of photons that were soaking into the hull. It only took a moment for the heat to overload every system on the destroyer. Thousands of tons of materials, alloys, carbon fiber, people, turned to gas in that instant. An instant later the antimatter breached and the ship, no longer containing any living crew, went up in a ball of plasma.

  The Admiral almost gave Montgomery a cautionary order, stopping herself at the last moment. Montgomery knew what she was doing. It was a balancing act to stay close enough to the enemy to gather timely intelligence, and far enough away that they wouldn’t become easy targets. The weapons of those massive ships were singularly destructive, and they could kill at much greater distance than anything carried by an Imperial capital ship. But they were still very inaccurate against moving ships at distance. That had been a lucky hit, which didn’t mean another one wouldn’t happen, but it was unlikely Maras force would take significant loses. And her flagship had just started into another cycle of wormhole launched missiles.

  “Do you want to order the rest of the fleet to hold off?” asked the Chief of Staff, his voice low.

  “Hell no,” roared Beata, turning to glare at the officer. “They are to close with the enemy and put missiles into them all the way out to the hyper barrier.” She thought for a moment, staring at the plot, then looked back at the Chief of Staff. “Caution to force commanders to stay outside the ten light minute range of the enemy. No use asking for that kind of trouble.” She was sure she would still lose ships, but the point was to not lose any unnecessarily.

  “Enemy launching missiles,” called out the Fleet Tactical Officer.

  Several thousand new icons appeared on the plot, a mass of the large attack weapons the Machines used as missiles. Hundreds were heading for Montgomery’s command, and there was sure to be significant loss to that barrage. The rest were heading toward the other closing battle groups. Even as she watched, a thousand more of the icons appeared. They didn’t know how many weapons the planet killers carried, but based on their size it could be hundreds of thousands each, if not millions. Bednarcyk closed her eyes, wondering if she should just order her fleet to back off and let the bastards leave the system. That would accomplish her goal of protecting the system. But it was a half measure, and any she let get away would be coming back. Either that, or moving on to other systems to wipe out more life.

  “Son of a bitch,” yelled Mara, and Beata turned her attention back to the plot. One of the large graviton sources, a planet killer, was gone from the plot, along with most of the missiles that had just been fired. We got one, thought Beata in exultation as she thrust a fist into the air.

  The remaining planet destroyers continued on, their acceleration having fallen to ten gravities, and indication of more damage to at least one of the two vessels. A minute later one of them launched more missiles, this time a mere two hundred, and Beata had to think that they had lost a number of launch tubes. Thirty seconds later they launched another two hundred. The first one was targeted for Mara’s force, the second to another group. While strong waves, they were not enough to swamp defenses. Both of those forces would sustain losses, but not the massive casualties they might have taken from those multi-thousand missile launches.

  It took over ten minutes for the visual to come through. The first image was merely a very bright flash, overwhelming the luminosity filters on the cameras for a moment before they adjusted and showed a clearer view. It looked like a small star in supernova, raging plasma spreading outward at a significant fraction of light speed. Then it was gone, and the camera views zoomed in on the remaining planet killers. The hull of the one closest to the explosion was a molten mess, vapor off gassing at a furious rate. It looked as if the armor had survived. It was just too thick, too tough. But a good fifty percent of the hull had lost all surface installations. Grabbers, lasers, electromag projectors, all gone. The further Machine had less outgassing, but the hull still looked melted, and about the same percentage of hull had been wiped clean. The two planet killers had been badly damaged. They were still dangerous, but not as combat effective as they had been. In fact, the analysts’ report came up quickly, indicating that the three planet killer force that had entered the system, minus the escorts, had been reduced to about thirty-three percent of its original combat strength, offensive and defensive. They were still massively armored, tough, with more firepower than her force. But they both had unprotected arcs, and if she could exploit those before they got back to hyper, she might be able to take at least one more of them down.

  * * *

  The AI couldn’t panic, but what had happened to it was sending its reason center into overdrive, trying to find a solution to the problems of losing so much of its combat power, and failing. It really couldn’t regret, but it also couldn’t prevent itself from going into a playback loop of the battle thus far, changing variables and trying to figure out what the result would be. The only conclusion it could come to was that it had underestimated the human capabilities. That was not hard to do when vital information was missing, but it made the resolution in the future to not jump to conclusions, to spend more calculations cycles before initiating action. This might cause some delay, but it calculated the result would still lead to a faster reaction cycle than the organics could muster.

  The two vessels forged their way back to the hyper barrier, under constant attack the entire way. The AI kept second guessing, running the calculations on whether it should have continued in or not, and coming to the conclusion that it would have lost at least one more of the primary units, possibly both. There was a possibility it might have taken out the asteroid or the planet, but not both. And it calculated what it would need to guarantee a victory. It couldn’t imagine that the humans had more surprises. In fact, it couldn’t imagine at all. All it could do was work with the data it had. This was its major weakness, and it simply couldn’t see that, which made it impossible to correct the defect.

  The humans continued to attack. The fighters, which the AI had figured were using some kind of negative matter shielded warp to cut themselves off from its sensors and move at an apparent speed faster than light, continued to dance around the ships, slipping into and out of their seeming invisibility. They were not hurting the two Machines, and it seemed that they lacked any further offensive weapons other than the pitiful lasers they fired for a couple of seconds before popping back into their warp. They always materialized beyond a couple of light seconds, and even the awesome reaction time of the Machines was not enough to get off a shot before they were gone. Lacking laser coverage over at least half of their surface, and being forced to engage incoming missiles, they were not even able to keep the areas the fighters were most likely to appear at under constant fire.

  Missiles continued to come in, some at high relativistic speeds, launched from distance or through wormholes. Others barely plodding along, launched from the tubes of ships wit
hin twenty light minutes of the planet killers, the vessels on vectors intended to keep them in contact without getting too close. There were continuous hits to the hull, a few each minute, sometimes a flurry, never enough power to penetrate the armor, never hitting the intact portions of the hull to cause more damage to those areas. The planet killers continued to release missiles, getting some hits, killing some human ships, never able to achieve the concentrations needed to completely overwhelm any attacking forces’ defenses.

  The other planet killer took some more hits, scores of missiles coming in and taking out more grabber units, the next disaster. Its acceleration, really deceleration to keep it from continuing into the system, fell to almost nothing. The calculations showed that the planet killer would not make it out of the system now. It was still half a light hour from the barrier, and its relative motion was still toward the inner system. The most intact of the planet killers, the one in which the controlling AI was riding, would still be able to make it to the barrier. It could still translate up to hyper I without a problem. The second lacked the hyperdrive power to open a hole large enough to fit its bulk. It had been thought that there was a sixty percent chance the Machine might have been able to affect enough repairs to jump by the time it reached the barrier, but now it looked like they weren’t even going to get that far. The AI considered for a moment, then decided that it would continue on to the barrier, letting the other Machine fend for itself on the calculation that it would be able to eventually get back under way and be able to jump by the time it hit the barrier. If not, then at least one would get away, the priority at the moment.

  So the most intact ship left the other behind. Again, there were no recriminations, no calling for help. It was the only logical decision, the only one to make, so it was the one that was taken. It still took a couple of hours to get to the barrier, time during which the enemy continued to hit it, inflicting mostly minor damage. They also continued to hit the abandoned ship, reducing its chances of making it out with every strike. Finally it reached the barrier, and was able to make the jump with some effort.

  The ship that had moved into hyper boosted along at ten gravities, its plot constantly monitoring it consort, its gravitic com in constant touch through grav pulse. If the other ship was destroyed it wanted to know how. That was information it could use. Or the follow-up ships could use if it didn’t survive. It expected more attacks in the near future, ships in a higher dimension of hyper dropping missiles in on it. It expected that its gravitron beam would take care of those weapons, but it had learned not to trust that its calculations were infallible.

  * * *

  “Orders, ma’am.”

  “I want you to follow the one that just went into hyper,” ordered Bednarczyk, looking at the face of Montgomery. “Stay out of range of the graviton beam, and only strike when you think you might get a return. Otherwise, stick with them.”

  “And the other Machine?”

  Bednarczyk looked at the plot, where three other forces of her ships were either in contact with that planet killer or moving toward it. And her two special assets were within twelve hours of coming within range.

  “Don’t worry. I have something planned for it. Something I hope will send its little Machine mind into a meltdown.”

  * * *

  The Machine made it to hyper IV before it ran into another wall. It now lacked the ability to open a hole to a higher dimension. Now any objective was sixteen times the transit time as before. It resigned itself to staying in this space, making what repairs it could, trying to make itself as combat ready as possible. And contacting others of its kind.

  Only the planet killers carried the advanced grav com. Only they had enough power to push the transmission through hyper VIII toward a specific target. The grav pulse, utilizing the advanced cryptography of its transmission, could cover the five hundred light years to it target in a little over four minutes. It was not a real time transmission, but the next best thing to it. In eight minutes the return transmission came, letting the Machine know that it had gotten through to another planet killer. It sent the compressed signal back, letting its target know that a long detailed transmission was coming. At that it launched into that transmission, sending data at a rate that the humans would have been amazed anything could accomplish with grav pulse. Plot records, numerical data, even short video, it sent everything it though might help the others of its kind fight these humans. Maybe they could come up with a better solution to the problem of the strange fighters, possibly even make some of their own. It couldn’t imagine how, which was what made it so difficult for the Machines, despite a few advances, to come up with any really new technology.

  Chapter Nine

  No machines will ever truly fully figure the brain out, because the brain's performance is constantly altered or else constrained by this inanimate, rogue artifact you can't control, namely, speech. Tom Wolfe

  MACHINE SPACE. MAY 31ST, 1002.

  “We’re getting ready to drop into normal space, ma’am,” said the CPO operating the helm of the Edmund Hillary.

  Commander and acting squadron captain Roberta Matthews acknowledged, then looked at the plot that was tracking the graviton emissions of everything in the region. On the far side of the plot was the strong black dot that represented the star. Arrayed around it were the planets in orbit, including a half dozen rocky worlds and a quartet of gas giants. Smaller dots were near a few of the rocky worlds and all of the giants, larger moons. What didn’t show were asteroids or very small moons that were not putting out enough gravitons to be detected at distance. Those would show up in the visual scan, hopefully. And then there were the thousands of vector arrows denoting ships of all sizes and classes.

  “Busy place,” said the Exec, Lt. Commander Stepanowski.

  “Sure is,” agreed Matthews. “Which is why we’re here.”

  The Imperial ships were hanging almost motionless in space, about a light hour out from the hyper VII barrier. According to the plot there was nothing moving within a light hour of their position. Which didn’t mean there was nothing there. In the vastness of space it was unlikely there would be anything waiting for them in the tiny point they were about to drop into. There were ships vectoring toward them, still some time away in hyper VI. The ships that had attempted to shadow them might show up at any time, but they weren’t within range at the moment. It had been impossible for them to keep up in VI while trying to follow vessels in VII.

  “Jumping now,” called out the Helm, and the rip between dimensions opened up to their front, the destroyer sliding through at a couple of hundred meters per second. One of her consorts came through along with her while the third remained in hyper.

  As soon as the ships entered normal space they started drinking in every piece of information they could gather. The hulls themselves were the sensors, and they took globular pictures of the system. That information was fed to the computer brains of the ship, which scanned the images, looking for the anomalies they had been programed to detect. As soon as they were located the gravity lens cameras started focusing and cataloguing those items, capturing small time stamp vids and feeding them to the memory banks to be interpreted as well. All of that information would be there to be downloaded back at base, if they made it back. The Klassekian Com Tech of each ship was sending back as much as they could to siblings back at Bolthole, but that was still only a small fraction of what they were sensing, and only what the computer would prioritize at the moment.

  Images started coming up on the holos around the bridge, what the computers were determining were the most important. Crew in CIC were acting as analysts as well, pulling up information, tagging what they thought was the most important, and sending them into the queue. It was still all too much. Minutes of gathered information would take days to digest. They wouldn’t have those days, but they would have time on the trip back to organize a report for the Admirals.

  “Look at that,” said the Exec, highlighting an image coming
up on the holo. The station they were looking at was over a hundred kilometers in diameter, now separated into two half globes, while another globe was still nestled within.

  “That’s where they make them,” agreed Matthews, looking at the almost completed planet killer. “I wonder how long it takes?”

  “We would have to see when that thing closes back up and when it opens with a completed ship to know that, ma’am,” said the Tactical Officer. “But I’m betting some years.”

  What you mean is you hope, thought the Commander. Because if they make them much faster, we’re really in trouble.

  They spent the next several minutes studying picture after picture showing the industrial might of this system. Gas mining stations over the giants, smelting stations on large metallic asteroids, antimatter production facilities in orbit around the F class star. The industrial power of at least three Imperial core systems concentrated here, with tireless robots working every minute of each time period non-stop. This was the information they had come to gather, not just to get an appreciation of the Machine capabilities, but to develop a targeting plan for a future offensive against them. Matthews might think it was too early to think of such, but obviously those in charge were hopeful that the war would turn to the point where the humans would be pressing the Machines.

  “I’m picking up a grav pulse transmission, ma’am,” called out the Sensor Chief, sitting in his position in the center of the ship.

  “From where?”

  “About fifty thousand kilometers to the starboard. Estimated mass, one thousand tons.”