Attack on Thebes_A Military Science Fiction Space Opera Epic
Page 25
She stretched out her hand and changed them, turning the weapon into dust, shifting the energy from within the atomic and subatomic bonds into herself.
The world around her became clearer as strength returned. She could see through things, but she could see new things, too. So many more planes and angles. She saw that flat surfaces were made up of impossibly complex objects, all coursing with strange energy that seemed to both push things together and pull them apart.
Is this what Cary sees when she deep-Links with Faleena? Tangel wondered.
There was more yelling, and Tangel realized the Nietzscheans were still there. Half were afraid, the other half were angry.
I’ve been staring right through them…
The Nietzscheans advanced, and Tangel clenched her jaw. She still had a jaw.
“Stop,” Tangel said, and the Nietzscheans all froze. Not because she’d removed their ability to move, but because of how loud her voice was. Tanis felt like she’d spoken on every frequency all at once.
This is going to take some practice.
She tapped into the energy she saw pushing and pulling at the foundations of reality and drew it toward her, wrapping it around herself like a cocoon. It would keep her safe. Safe from the storm and from these soldiers who wanted to hurt her.
One of them was raising his rifle, and Tangel did the same to it as she had done to the previous weapon, removing all the energy from within it, and drawing it into herself.
She reached out to gesture for the soldiers to move aside, and remembered that she only had one arm.
That won’t do, Tangel thought with a laugh.
Matter rose from the ground, streamed from the weapons the soldiers held, even from their armor.
She stopped short of drawing matter from the soldiers’ bodies. Something felt wrong about that. She considered removing the energy from their bodies—like she had done to the weapons—but that felt wrong, too.
The matter drew toward her, and then coalesced into a new arm. Tangel looked down at it and flexed her fingers, peering intently at her digits. Were they organic? No. They were not quite like the other organic parts of her body. But they weren’t non-organic, either.
What have I made? she wondered.
Tangel spotted her lightwand laying on the ground, and a memory resonated through her mind.
‘Pry it from my cold, dead hands.’
She pushed past the Nietzscheans. Well, half pushed, half walked through them, and reached for her lightwand. As she did, small bits of debris exploded around her, and Tangel realized the Nietzscheans were all firing on her.
With a sigh, she disassembled their weapons, and then their armor, leaving them naked in the storm. Some of them screamed and ran, some backed quietly into corners, a few fell where they were.
Tangel ignored them and walked out of the atrium and into the storm, summoning a sphere of energy around her, watching the water sluice off it to the ground.
She looked up and down the street. She still had to get to a dropship and fly out of here. For a moment, Tangel considered that she might be able to simply fall up as she feared. Could she fall up and fly into space?
A deep breath made her consider that her body may still require oxygen to survive. Best not to chance it right now.
Yelling came from her left, and Tangel saw more Niets. These ones had heavy armor and railguns, and they began to fire at her, the accelerated particles and kinetics striking the protective sphere around her and turning into nothing.
No, not ‘nothing’; the sphere was turning the matter into energy, and that was going into her body.
Too much energy, she realized. Though she seemed to exist beyond the physical realm she was used to, her body was still constructed of normal matter and could not store an infinite amount of energy.
She had to discharge it somehow, in some form.
Much of the energy she held was in the form of photons and highly excited electrons. She could drop the electrons into the ground, or she could send them back at the Nietzscheans who were attacking her.
Tangel chose the latter, and a blue-white blast of energy poured out of the sphere surrounding her, burning away the enemy, as well as the buildings around them.
She felt a sense of satisfaction to see the power they’d directed at her sent back to them, but then realized she couldn’t stop the blast. It kept going, sucking away all her energy, leaving her weak.
The process she’d initiated began to convert matter to energy, consuming her flow armor, the energy holding its atoms together now coming apart and flowing out toward the enemy that was long since burned to ash.
“Stop!” she screamed, but it wouldn’t stop. Then, just when she thought that her body might be consumed and turn to dust as well, the blast ceased, and the sphere around her disappeared.
In an instant, the storm slammed back into Tanis’s naked body, and she fell to the ground, unconscious.
ISF FIRST FLEET
STELLAR DATE: 08.27.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: ISS I2, Bridge
REGION: Inner Albany System, Thebes, Septhian Alliance
If it wasn’t for the fact that she was worried sick about Tanis and Brandt—not to mention Priscilla, Colonel Smith, and the Marines—Rachel would have been reveling in the fact that she was in command of a fleet.
And not just the First Intrepid Fleet, with its few dozen ships, but a real fleet.
A thousand ships were arrayed around the I2, organized in sub-formations where ships with stasis shields could offer protection to those without.
Beyond the thousand visible ships, another two thousand stealthed cruisers advanced above and below the star system’s equatorial plane. But the enemy had no knowledge of those ships.
To the Nietzscheans, it must have appeared as though the attackers were insane. A thousand ships against seventy thousand was unheard of. At least for them.
Rachel watched the Comm team shunt another segment of traffic off to the secondary team one deck down. With so many ships still fleeing the system, the ISF had turned into the de facto space traffic control for the outer Albany System.
Stations and planets had begun deferring to the inbound ISF fleet for vector confirmation a day ago, and now they were asking about everything from when it would be safe to send more ships out, to what they should do with inbound traffic that was low on fuel, and had to dock somewhere.
Someone had even asked if they could find their missing dog on Pyra.
The volume was running everyone ragged, and Rachel was considering leaving a ship in the outer system with a team of traffic and logistics specialists aboard, just to coordinate the locals.
Even so, she didn’t blame the people of Albany. Until two weeks ago, they didn’t know ships could jump deep inside a system. They had never seen a fleet the size of the one now occupying their space, and they’d certainly never seen a fleet outnumbered seventy-to-one advance and not retreat.
Granted, neither had Rachel.
Organizing the fleet had not been easy. The forces sent from far and wide came with their own command structure, some of whom outranked Rachel considerably. Amongst the assembled ships were an admiral, two generals, and a host of colonels.
Though her title was ‘captain’, Rachel’s own actual rank was that of colonel. However, the honor of having one’s butt in the I2’s command chair far outweighed any rank.
At one point, the admiral and two of the colonels had attempted to take control of the fleet’s strategy away from Rachel. It had been a tense period, but Sera had sent directives over the QuanComm network that she was in charge, and that her orders were backed up by Admirals Evans and Greer—even Empress Diana.
Joe had included a private message, telling her that sitting in the command chair of the I2 was a de facto promotion to admiral.
The compliment from Admiral Evans had made her all but glow with pride—and worry that he was probably nuts, to put so much on her.
Not your first time
out, Rachel admonished herself. Not your first time at the helm of this ship in a pitched fight, either.
“We’ve crossed the first marker,” Scan called out.
The first marker denoted passage into the sector where they were in range of relativistic missiles with no time for fleet-wide evasion. Granted, there could have been RMs lying in wait further back, but now they were also at risk of live fire.
The stealthed ships, broken into four groups, were already well beyond the first marker; by the time Rachel’s main formation reached the second marker, they would be almost at Pyra.
When the I2 passed the third marker, all hell would break loose.
“Fire control, instruct Fleet Group One to begin random fire, pattern alpha.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
A smattering of ships in the fleet—a selection of Scipian, Silstrand, and TSF vessels—fired railguns at the Nietzschean ships in orbit around Pyra.
No one expected the shots to hit, but it would cause the enemy to spread out and decrease their ability to bring concentrated firepower to bear on single targets.
After a few minutes, the random railgun fire ceased. It would still take thirty minutes for the shots to reach the enemy, but it would create, she hoped, an image of an undisciplined, ragtag force.
The next nineteen minutes were filled with nothing but waiting for the enemy’s reaction to the incoming shots. Then they saw groups of Nietzschean vessels begin to shift further out from Pyra, until over half of them were beyond the orbits of Pyra’s two moons.
“Cautious. Too bad.” A voice said from Rachel’s left, and she nearly jumped.
“Finaeus,” she breathed as she glanced at the man. “Scared the crap out of me!”
“It’s a talent, I won’t lie. Sadly, there’s not a lot of call for stealthy engineers.”
Rachel couldn’t help but smile. Finaeus was the very definition of ‘unflappable’. Perhaps it was because he’d seen so much, lived through so much, that nothing fazed him anymore.
Still, she was surprised that he was able to be so calm while looking out over the enemy ships.
“What do you make of our odds?” she asked quietly.
Finaeus snorted. “One hundred percent. These dickheads don’t stand a chance.”
“Not worried at all?”
Finaeus leaned against a console—earning an annoyed look from Major Jessie, which he appeared to not even notice. “Did I ever tell you about Star City?”
“I heard Tanis say the name once, but that was about it.”
“We’re trying to keep the place hush-hush and not let remnants or ascended AIs know about it—if they don’t already. Which I think they do. Anyway, we know the I2 is clear of remnants, so I’ll lay it on you. Star City is out in Orion Space, in the Perseus Arm. And it’s old, over three thousand years.”
“Really?” Rachel asked. “How—”
Finaeus held up his hand, cutting her off. “Story for another time. Anyway, Star City has sixteen bastions, which have the most amazing AIs ever—also a story for another time—protecting it. We were having a little visit, when Orion launched a major assault on the city. They threw over a hundred thousand ships at it.”
Rachel whistled. “I had no idea.”
“Yeah, well, neither did Orion. Guess how many ships Star City had?”
Rachel shrugged. “Ummm…two hundred thousand?”
“Zero.”
“Zero?”
“Yeah. Am I doing that thing where I think words, but forget to say them? Zero.”
She rolled her eyes at her chief engineer. “Ha ha, Finaeus. Get on with it.”
“Well, see, the thing is Star City had a plan, tactics, and superior technology. They knew how to use it, and they won the day. Guess how many casualties they had?”
“Finaeus, I hate guessing games.”
“C’mon.”
“I don’t know…zero.”
“Right you are!” Finaeus crowed. “No one died. Jessica came close, but in the end, no one did. The Orion fleet was utterly destroyed. To the last ship.”
“How in the stars did they do that?” Major Jessie asked, apparently having forgiven Finaeus for leaning against her console.
“Classified,” Finaeus replied. “But fret not. Earnest and I are working on a way to miniaturize what they sorted out. And when we do…”
“Yes…?” Rachel prompted.
“Blammo!” Finaeus shouted. “Game over, bad guys.”
“You have such a way with words.”
Finaeus gave a mock bow. “I try.”
“So you’re not worried about this at all?” Rachel waved a hand at the forward display to indicate the enemy ships.
“Nietzscheans? Are you kidding? Those guys are as dumb as rocks. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Nietzsche had some good ideas, but he was a nineteenth century philosopher. Trying to take his precepts and blanket apply them to the ninetieth century? Build a civilization around it? These guys must eat stupid for breakfast.”
“And Tanis?” Rachel asked.
For an instant, Rachel thought she saw a look of concern flash across Finaeus’s face, then it was gone. “I’m worried about what she’ll do to the Niets.”
Something about the way Finaeus said those words felt wrong to Rachel. She wondered if it had anything to do with the reason both Bob and Finaeus had insisted that they send Priscilla with Colonel Smith’s strike team.
She was about to ask, when Scan called out, “A section of the enemy’s fleet is breaking off. They’re on a trajectory to flank us.”
Rachel glanced at Finaeus. “Looks like they didn’t eat too much stupid today. That’s the tactic we rated as best for them and worst for us.”
“Only if they commit a third of their force to—OK, they’ve committed a third. Must have been Stupid-Lite today.”
Fleet Group Three fired their rails, and hundreds of five-ton slugs streaked out from the ships toward where the Nietzschean vessels moving to the ISF’s right flank would be in ten minutes.
Tanis and the fleet tacticians believed that word of the ISF’s use of grapeshot had spread amongst Orion’s allies by now. While still brutally effective, it was likely that its tactical usefulness was diminished.
To counter this, the fleet engineers had come up with a new rail-fired weapon system that—hopefully—would take the enemy by surprise.
“This should be good,” Finaeus said as they watched the slugs creep across the holotank’s display toward the enemy ships.
Scan showed the Nietzschean vessels moving aside, creating gaps in their formation for the slugs to pass through.
“Poor Neaties. Not moving enough,” Rachel said with a smile.
“ ‘Neaties’?” Finaeus asked, a brow raised.
Rachel shrugged. “ ‘Niets’ makes me think of nits, which is gross. It also makes them sound all tidy. The dichotomy doesn’t work in my head. Trying out a new name.”
Major Jessie gave a soft laugh. “Try again.”
Rachel glanced at her XO, and then turned back to the holos. One side of the main tank showed projections, while the other showed actuals.
The projection estimated that over five hundred enemy ships would take damage from the shots. A nice opening salvo.
The slugs were traveling at ten thousand kilometers per second, and when they passed within twenty-thousand klicks of the enemy fleet, they exploded.
Actuals tagged thousands of impacts on the Nietzschean ships, most being deflected by shields, but the ships closest to the shrapnel bore the brunt of the impact. Twenty-nine enemy vessels lost power, and three exploded seconds later.
When the shots hit, a soft cheer sounded on the bridge, and Rachel smiled. This crew knew what it was do
ing and was determined to see their mission through and rescue Tanis.
Fleet Group Three fired again, and this time, the enemy formation scattered wide, spreading out to avoid the shots entirely.
She almost felt bad for the Nietzscheans.
SAVING HER
STELLAR DATE: 08.27.8949 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: Jersey City, Pyra
REGION: Albany System, Thebes, Septhian Alliance
A brilliant light streamed out from around a corner ahead, lighting up the city like it was noon. No. Brighter than noon. It seemed to be shining away from them, and Rika signaled for Keli and Kelly to follow her.
She reached the corner, which was occupied by a store selling a selection of soft and colorful bedding supplies, and peered around to see a star resting in the middle of the street.
At least, that’s what it looked like at first.
A beam of blue-white light that reminded Rika of an electron beam shot from the star down the street—in the other direction, thankfully—burning its way through Jersey City, and clear over to a large hill outside of town, where lightning streaked from the ground into the sky.
Then the light went out, and the sphere disappeared. In its place stood a naked woman. Her body wobbled side to side, and then went limp, collapsing to the ground.
Rika didn’t give a moment’s thought to her own safety as she rushed across the street and knelt beside the woman.
She was curled up in a fetal position, and Rika tried to turn her over. At first, her hand slipped off the woman’s shoulder—or maybe went through it—but then Rika managed to find purchase and roll her over.