by Jamie Sawyer
“We understand,” said General Draven. “We wish to extend the hand of friendship, on behalf of the Alliance, and the human race.”
The lead Aeon nodded.
Secretary Lopez jostled in front of the alien. “I am Secretary of Defence for the Alliance. My name is Rodrigo Lopez.”
The Aeon’s leader paused. Its blind eyes narrowed.
“I have authority to speak on behalf of the Alliance,” Secretary Lopez said. “We are in great need of your abilities.”
There was little point in withholding intelligence from a hyper-advanced alien race such as the Aeon. As well as the frost aura that accompanied the xenos, I noticed that the tactical-display jumped and jittered in their presence. P had described reading the mainframe, accessing its data without permission. It was inevitable that the Aeon were able to do the same thing, and I had no doubt that they were leaching information from our systems. But these were desperate times and we had to trust them.
“By what name can I address you?” Secretary Lopez asked.
General Draven frowned at me, and I felt my cheeks burning.
“I never actually called the, ah, alien by this name to its face,” I explained. “It was just something that came into my head…”
“Not us,” said Secretary Lopez. “An organisation called the Black Spiral.”
He seemed affronted at that suggestion. “If the pariah-form has told you what it knows,” he argued, “then you will understand that it is Warlord, leader of the Black Spiral, who is responsible. He has brought the Shard back to the Maelstrom.”
“It is me,” Lopez argued. “I am responsible for the military forces within this theatre—”
It hooked a long finger in my direction.
A cloud of abject disappointment settled over Secretary Lopez’s face. I caught a slight smile on Captain Ving’s lips from the corner of my eye, and saw that even General Draven looked amused.
I shook my head. “I’m a soldier. I was following orders.”
“Then tell them that I’m not who they should be speaking to,” I protested.
A murmur spread through the gathered spectators. Lopez pressed down his suit again, his agitation passing into frustration.
“Right,” he said. “Well, if they want to speak with you, Lieutenant, then that will have to do.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
The Aeon dignitaries watched the exchange without comment, wheezing and hissing as they breathed whatever product they called atmosphere. The Scuttlers had settled around their feet.
“This is our current force disposition,” I explained, pointing out the Alliance fleet at the edge of the Ithaca system, moving on a collision course with the Black Spiral’s armada. “The uninfected Krell war-fleets are falling back here, in support of our ships. We have developed an anti-viral to counter the Harbinger virus.” Icons on the tactical grid demonstrated distribution of the anti-viral. “We intend to fly the anti-viral into Ithaca Star, to administer this cure to the Krell High Council on Ithaca Prime.”
The map lit with the label “Devil’s Maw”. That wasn’t any official kind of name, but the advance fleet had labelled many features of the Ithaca system. Other choice descriptions included Ithaca Minor, the Jagged Moons, and the Ring of Thorns. Wraith evaluated the display without seeing it, dead eyes unblinking.
“This is our approach,” said General Draven, displaying the five battlegroups on their flight to Ithaca. “We estimate, at this velocity, we will reach the outer planets of the Ithaca system within six hours.”
More images in my head. Life-bearing planets, now infected with Harbinger, but not yet lost. There was still hope for those worlds and the Krell that called them home. On the tac-display, icons illuminated. I looked to Secretary Lopez and Draven, both of whom nodded in agreement with that plan.
The battle lines were instantly redrawn, revised into a spearhead formation that was aimed directly at Ithaca Prime. This plan made use of new Q-calculations and gravimetric assessments. The Defiant’s AI had not predicted this route, but rapidly verified it as viable.
“Let’s hope that it doesn’t come to that,” said Feng.
A flurry of images danced across my mind’s eye. The Maelstrom’s various interstellar anomalies made a terrible kind of sense, knowing what we did now. The Aeon had been responsible for them. They were ancient monuments to the war between the Dominion and the Pantheon; reminders of what the Aeon had done to repel the Shard when this war had first been fought. I felt physically and psychically weakened by the connection. It was more than just what I saw; also what I felt. The depth and wealth of emotion was overburdening, exhausting.
“How do we do that?” Secretary Lopez interjected.
A murmur of agreement rippled through the other Aeon. The Scuttlers became agitated, as though reading the disapproval of the masters.
P stepped up. Its huge bulk was comparable to the Aeon, and they regarded the alien with respect.
“What do you mean by that?” I queried. Something in P’s aura shifted, some indescribable change in its presentation.
What were the Aeon suggesting? P was deliberately hiding something from me. It was only fleeting, but that was what I detected as I witnessed the exchange. But then the moment was over, as Secretary Lopez interjected again.
“We should ready our forces for the assault,” he said. “There isn’t long to prepare.”
“We appreciate the risks you are taking,” I said.
“I have,” Secretary Lopez replied. “My daughter has been taken prisoner by the Black Spiral. She was—”
I pursed my lips. “They took one of my troopers, while we were in orbit around your planet. She… she must be returned to us.”
Wraith paused. Its alien face contorted in an expression of mourning.
I felt the aliens accessing locked memories of Lopez. Her loss was still raw, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The brief contact reminded me of what the Aeon had done when we first landed on Carcosa, and how they had manipulated the Jackals’ minds. I wondered what the limits of their powers were now they were fully awakened…
“Yes, well,” said Secretary Lopez, “we must use the time to reorganise our forces, in accordance with your plan.”
As one, the Aeon’s face-plates re-polarised. They plodded off towards the exit hatch, accompanied by the tide of Scuttlers.
“I don’t think he likes the Secretary much…” Feng said, watching them go.
Then the trio of alien ambassadors was gone. The temperature in the compartment rose sharply.
Dr Saito approached me. I hadn’t even realised that he had been present at the briefing. He grinned widely. “Well, that was utterly exhilarating,” he said. “I don’t think that could’ve gone better.”
I sighed. “I wasn’t very comfortable being the focus of discussions, Doc.”
“They trust you,” Dr Saito said. “That’s an important first step.”
“When P finds Warlord’s location, we should be ready to deploy,” I said, both to Dr Saito and the Jackals.
Zero nodded. “There are more than enough Simulant Operations bays on this ship. I’ll prep some simulator-tanks, and commandeer some drop-capsules.”
Secretary Lopez overheard part of our discussion. “If the Pariah discovers Warlord’s location,” he said, churlishly. “To be honest, I wasn’t very impressed with the Aeon. They offer much, but whether they can deliver remains to be seen.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE WAR FOR ITHACA
“Whatever happens here,” Zero said, as we watched the final assault prep from the Defiant’s Command Centre, “this war will go down in history. We’ll be able to say that we were here, that we saw this event happen. Kind of exciting, right?”
“Depends,” said Novak.
“On what?” asked Feng.
“Whether is good or bad history,” said Novak.
Zero pulled a face. “That’s sort of the point, Novak. We won’t know whether it’s good or bad history until after the war is done.”
Novak snorted. “Then I will know whether I am excited afterwards.”
The five battlegroups had been reorganised according to the Aeon’s suggestion. That had taken surprisingly little time, largely because the quantum-tides had been in our favour. In the wake of the Aeon’s six ships, jump points became useable again, and travel time seemed to be cut in half. Whatever Secretary Lopez thought, the Aeon seemed to have proved themselves prior to the first shot being fired.
“All ships are in formation,” declared a senior Navy officer, from the workpit of the CIC. “I have confirmation from all battlegroups.”
The entire remaining fleet was committed to breaking through the Black Spiral cordon, heading on a course that would take us directly to Ithaca Prime. Sixteen hundred ships, representing every one of the Alliance’s thirteen territories, participated in a colossal show of force.
The CIC was crowded with personnel, all hyped to watch the initial stages of the assault. Multiple veteran Sim Ops teams milled around the tactical-display, trying their best not to get in the way of the Navy crew. Several Aerospace Force officers and Off-World Marine commanders had been appointed consoles in the well of the centre, alongside high-ranking tacticians.
Captain Heinrich had a new post; overseeing the Sim Ops ground assaults. He caught my eye as he coordinated the various squad rosters across starships, preparing to deploy them in whatever way was necessary.
“Save something for the Jackals, sir,” I said.
“You’ll know when we need you,” he replied, a smile touching the corners of his eyes. “The Jackals won’t be redundant in this war.”
A siren cut the air. The CIC’s lights automatically dimmed, her view-ports unshuttering. The huge tri-D display in the centre of the chamber lit with targets, showing the initial approach to the Ithaca system, focusing on the Devil’s Maw. As we watched, new targets appeared across the horizon: the ragged line of starships that made up the Black Spiral’s fleet.
Director Mendelsohn and Secretary Lopez watched on from the sidelines. The Secretary barked directly at General Draven, Captain Heinrich, and any officer who got too close.
“I don’t think that Secretary Lopez appreciated the Aeon choosing to speak with you,” Zero said.
“What gave you that idea?” I said, sarcastically.
“The Secretary doesn’t like it much when people get in his way,” Feng muttered.
“Lopez herself said something similar, a little while ago,” I commented. I bit my lip, reminding myself that she was still out there, somewhere. “We should be looking for her.”
“I agree,” Novak grunted. “But is politics.” He turned his gaze in Secretary Lopez’s direction, fixing his eyes on the man. “This Lopez; he wants to win the war no matter what. He needs it.”
“Don’t we all?” I countered.
“Not like him,” Novak said. “We have saying in Norilsk: ‘politics is shit’.”
Zero tried to repress a laugh, but couldn’t stop herself. Novak remained deadly serious.
“That’s… that’s great, Novak,” Zero said, recovering her composure.
The Alliance fleet pierced the outer cordon of Spiral ships like a spear. Simultaneously, a murmur spread through the CIC. Something was happening.
“This is it,” Zero said. “Here we go…”
“First contact,” reported an ensign. “Battlegroup alpha is meeting resistance.”
I felt the bristle around us, as fresh intelligence flooded into the tactical-display. The Alliance fleet used real-time tachyon arrays and FTL uplinks to remain in contact. The battlefront spread across the outer planets of the Ithaca star system.
The War for Ithaca was fought largely in space, but also in the air and on the ground. Several warships deployed drop-capsules, or gunships, t
o the Krell outer planets. This war had its own pace, its own rhythm. Ithaca Star had a dozen planets, but many times that in moons, and the Krell had colonised extensively. All of those settlements were prone to infection by Harbinger, and all of them had to be inoculated against the contagion.
“Deploying anti-viral warhead alpha…” came the first report, from the Wings of Proxima.
A minor cheer spread through the CIC, but there was still too much at stake for any real celebration.
“Do you have confirmation that the anti-viral has taken root?” asked Director Mendelsohn, back to wringing his hands with nervous energy.
A long pause filled the CIC with silence.
“That’s a confirm,” came an officer from the Proxima. “You can thank our Aeon allies for holding off the Spiral.”
“I think we might actually do this,” Feng said, optimistically.
Over the next few hours, as the fleet punched onwards—led by the Aeon—stories of valour and bravery were everywhere. The Navy clashed with Harbinger-infected bio-ships over the moons of Cybaris; scuttling a corrupted war-fleet. In the Pavonis Straits, squadron after squadron of Hornet space fighters met with Krell Needlers, destroying over a hundred enemy ships. The Krell orbital shipyards in the Ikarian Belt were found to be rampant with Harbinger virus, with every living ship a potential carrier of the pathogen. The Navy was forced to destroy those facilities rather than deploy the anti-viral warheads, such was the level of resistance.
And everywhere, everywhere, was the Black Spiral.
The Spiral had been planning this event since their inception, since they had first appeared as a threat on the galactic stage. Ships of every design and origin were present in the theatre. The Spiral had numbers on their side, and they were driven by a determination that verged on fanaticism. Every body united under the Black Spiral’s banner was here—from the Frontier Independence Front, to the Cult of the Singularity, to the variety of religious and terrorist groups that called themselves the Spiral’s allies. The Spiral thought nothing of throwing forces against a superior opponent, and the data-feeds were filled with accounts of Black Spiral warships self-detonating in the face of defeat, or sacrificing themselves to pollute opposing Krell bio-ships. They used guerrilla tactics, demonstrating knowledge of the territory, and putting their skills as spacefarers to full effect.
