by Dean M. Cole
Remulkin took control of the display, zooming it out until the amassed ships between the Earth and Moon returned to the field of view. At this range, they were little more than a green ring around a red dot. The computer had exaggerated their size, otherwise at this scale, they'd be invisible.
Still looking at the idled fighters behind the Moon, Jake shook his head. "What are they doing?"
"I don't know?" Remulkin said with obvious anger.
Jake turned to see the scientist staring at the translunar Mexican stand-off. The scientist reached into the display and zoomed in on the scene. He magnified the largest vessel. With its sleek lines pointing directly at the enemy formation, the colossal Helm Warden blocked their path to Earth.
Cursing loudly, Remulkin resumed his manic typing.
Jake reached into the display and zoomed out until the hauntingly familiar asteroidal forms reentered the rendering. Judging by their apparent size, it appeared that the GDF ships were maintaining a respectable stand-off distance.
"It looks like Tekamah is staying outside of gene weapon range," Jake said.
Remulkin pounded a fist into the control console. "I can't break the control lockout! Why aren't we moving to help?!" he said in a tone boarding on hysteria. "What is wrong with your admiral?"
Jake shook his head. "I don't know," he said. He panned the display and pointed to the Helm Warden's idling fighters. "This doesn't make any sense."
Colonel Giard looked away from the display and switched to the command net. "Galactic Guardian Six, this is—" He abandoned the effort. "Shit! My EON won't link."
Remulkin growled and pounded the console again. "This isn't working! It won't take my commands. Why aren't they attacking?" He shook a fist at the hologram. "Kill the bastards!" Again, nothing happened. Thramorus threw up his hands and screamed, "Godsdamn them!" He shoved Jake aside. Caught unprepared, Giard stumbled backward.
The Argonian liaison rammed his hand into the Turtle's flight controller. He twisted and pushed it. No response. The ship refused to budge. "Damn it!" Remulkin said, hammering the console's surface with his other hand.
Recovering, Jake stepped back to the console. Placing a hand on Thramorus's shoulder, he said, "Lieutenant, we have our orders."
The scientist tried to bat his hand away, but Jake clamped down hard. He heard tendons in the older man's shoulder creaking and grinding. Finally, the Argonian released the controller. The man's bald head was as red as the ring of hair that haloed it.
"Where did they go?" Thramorus asked with renewed surprise and frustration.
"What?"
Remulkin pointed at the suddenly empty ring of green ships. He switched to accented English. "Tekamah let them escape!"
All sixteen Zoxyth dreadnoughts had disappeared from the display.
"What the hell?" Jake yelled. At the same time, Remulkin growled something similar in his native tongue.
Giard reached into the display again and zoomed back out. The enemy fleet slid back into view.
"There they are!" Jake said and released the breath he'd been holding. The enemy ships had fallen back, but they were still in system. They were in a new, linear formation a couple of hundred miles farther from the planet. Also, it looked like they had stopped their advance on Earth. Still expanding, the gap between their closest ship and the nearest GDF battlecruiser was equal to the entire width of the Helm Warden's formation.
In an apparent reaction to the Zoxyth's maneuver, the octagonal formation of eight GDF ships stopped as well, locking the gap at a safer distance.
Jake pointed at the spacing. "It looks like they fell back two hundred miles." Turning to Remulkin, he hoisted two hopeful eyebrows. "The Helm Warden and its fleet are way outside the range of the gene weapon now."
"I don't give a shit," Thramorus said, still in accented English. "Tekamah isn't going to fire on the family-stealing bastards, not unless they fire first." He shook his head. "Especially now that they're no longer advancing on your planet."
Remulkin paused. The anger drained from his face. Tilting his head like a perplexed dog, he reached into the hologram again. Looking at the enemy ships, he whispered, "That line. It looks like …" The scientist's words trailed off. Then his eyes widened. Remulkin slapped the curved top of the Turtle's control panel and started stringing together a fresh batch of Argonian curse words.
Jake turned toward him. "What?"
The man didn't answer.
Giard looked at the formation again. Remulkin's reaction had Jake's short hairs standing on end. In spite of the greater distance, the Zoxyth fleet's new orientation—in a line that pointed directly at the Helm Warden—suddenly looked ominous.
Shoving Jake aside, the portly man ran his hands across another portion of the panel's surface. Moving with surprising dexterity, the Lieutenant—Jake reminded himself that the man was firstly a scientist—entered a series of commands. In a few seconds, a holographic rendering of the two formations dissolved into a series of symbols. They still floated in the same arrangement as the opposing forces. However, instead of a ship, a small red satellite dish now sat where each of the sixteen enemy vessels had floated. On the left side of the display, a ring of eight discrete green spheres represented the ships of the Galactic Defense Forces.
Thramorus toggled a command, and concentric arcing rings began to emanate from the aftmost enemy ship like waves from a pebble dropped into a smooth pond. When the advancing front of energy fired by the first satellite reached the symbol for the next enemy ship, the second vessel detonated its weapon. Along the formation's axis, the energy's amplitude and speed appeared to double. Like noise waves from a cartoon megaphone, the lines fanned out as they traveled across the ships ahead of it. However, as the leading edge of the advancing wave reached the next ship in sequence, that vessel's satellite dish added its blast of gene weapon energy.
Jake watched the simulation in slack-jawed amazement. The wave's power appeared to double with each new squirt of energy. Fourteen iterations later, the modeled wave burst forth from the lead element of the enemy formation and quickly crossed the two hundred-mile gap, enveloping the Helm Warden and its fleet of green spheres.
"Oh shit," Jake whispered.
***
Tekamah studied the new Zoxyth formation with growing unease. "What are you up to, Thrakst?" There was something familiar about the orientation of the ships.
"What are your orders, Admiral?"
He ignored the helmsman. Accessing the hologram's controls through his EON interface, Tekamah magnified the enemy fleet. All sixteen ships had reformed in a perfect line aimed directly at the Helm Warden's octagonal formation.
Something didn't add up, but this was no time to start changing his plan.
"Sir?" the helmsman asked again.
"Move the task-force to re-engage," the admiral said.
The officer nodded. "Yes, sir."
As the order went out to the battlecruisers, Tekamah continued to stare at the line of enemy ships. He rotated the display until his fleet came into view. It was like looking down the barrel of a lumpy rifle.
His eyes widened. "Oh my Gods." Turning to the helmsman, he shouted, "Belay that order!"
But it was too late. With its unmatched sub-light acceleration, the Helm Warden and her seven battlecruisers were already blazing toward the enemy fleet.
Suddenly, a brilliant flash shot from the aftmost dreadnought. Just like the directional old-world radio array Tekamah had belatedly remembered, the alignment of the enemy's transmitters focused the wave's propagation into a narrow, far-reaching linear beam as the next ship in line fired its weapon.
Tekamah watched with mounting dread as light sprang from the next ship and then the one in front of it. In accelerating fashion, the line of fire jumped from dreadnought to dreadnought, growing and speeding up with each new injection of energy.
Finally responding to his revised order, all eight GDF ships reversed direction in an instant.
Fearing he had reacte
d too late, Admiral Tekamah focused on the lead enemy ship as the advancing front of the energy wave raced toward it.
***
"Command all ships to deploy their weapons on my mark and in this sequence!"
"Lord Thrakst," the weapons officer said. "That will leave us virtually defenseless against the remaining ships."
The officer couldn't know of the tactic, so Thrakst decided to spare his life, for now. "If we fire in this order and this formation, the weapon's effect should be magnified and extended tenfold," the Lord said. Through a growl, he added, "Now send the order or die where you stand!"
"Yes, my Lord," the hatchling said and then transmitted the order to the fleet.
"Make sure they understand the importance of the firing sequence!"
Gazing through his view-wall, Thrakst felt his pulse quicken as he prepared to give the order that would finally avenge the death of his wife and son.
The officer nodded. "They're ready, my Lord."
Thrakst moved to stand in front of his massive stone cathedra. Raising both arms, he roared, "Fire!"
A glorious wave erupted from the Tidor Drof. Its galaxy-cleansing light flooded into the bridge, twin beams streaming through the Forebearer's eye portals. The glow emanated first from his ship at the back of the formation. The wave spread in its normal spherical pattern. However, when the white light reached the next ship in his linear formation, it distorted that ship's energy wave, focusing it into a beam. Then their combined energy raced to the next ship in line. Employing Thrakst's timing perfectly, dreadnought after dreadnought added the force of their gene weapon to the advancing front.
"Lord Thrakst, the enemy is moving to intercept."
Looking at the main display, Thrakst frowned. As they approached, the Warden and its ships began to spread apart, their closer proximity making their formation appear wider.
Too wide!
The beam was going to be too narrow!
The Lord spun toward the communications officer. "Cease fire!"
"My Lord?"
Not interested in leaving his fleet practically defenseless against Tekamah's more powerful ships, Thrakst knocked the officer aside, sending the idiot sprawling. He toggled the communications console, but a massive hand stayed his arm.
Without looking, Thrakst growled. "Release my arm or lose the hand, Raja."
Phascyre didn't release him, but pointed to the main display. "My Lord, they are retreating."
Freezing with his hand over the transmit key, Thrakst looked at the display. Seeing the apparent size of the enemy formation shrinking, he grinned broadly. "You're making this too easy, Tekamah."
Slowly withdrawing his hand from the console, he watched as the unhindered wave of cleansing light raced down the line of his ships, each flash bigger and brighter until the final wave erupted from the lead dreadnought with blinding intensity. The linearly focused wave burned across the vast void in a concentrated beam.
"Yes," Thrakst whispered, "Run, Tekamah."
Moments later, the wave washed across the retreating enemy formation, its outer ships falling just inside the beam's narrow confines.
At that glorious moment, the enemy's precise octagonal formation began to dissolve into a drifting, disorganized group of unmanned ships.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Aboard the Galactic Guardian and still hidden behind the moon, Admiral Johnston watched the eight green ships within the hologram start a slow tumble.
"Oh my God!"
The man on his right nodded. "As long as it's available to him, Thrakst will never stop using that godsdamned weapon."
"You're right," Admiral Johnston whispered.
The image of the emptied, drifting ships was too familiar, dredging up all too recent and horrible memories.
Intuiting the admiral's thoughts, the Argonian officer placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We can mourn our losses when the battle is over."
Taking a deep breath, Johnston turned to the man. "You're right, Admiral. I knew it was coming, but seeing those ships start their death tumble … Well, it clarifies things."
"Yes, it does," Admiral Tekamah said, nodding. "This weapon is too dangerous, its masters too eager."
On the right side of the holographic display, the sixteen Zoxyth dreadnoughts, having regrouped into a four-by-four diamond-shaped formation, began to advance on Earth again. Johnston watched them give a wide berth to the emptied Helm Warden fleet as if they did not completely trust the efficacy of their gene weapon.
"We have to remove both now before they get a chance to use it again," Tekamah said.
Taking his meaning, Johnston nodded as well. Checking his watch, he said, "Your gambit bought us a solid forty-five minutes. Let's see if we can convince them of the error of their ways."
The hologram panned to the moon. Admiral Tekamah swept a hand, gesturing to the holographic rendering of the GDF ships hovering over its pockmarked surface. "You have all of the Helm Warden's heavy-ship staff here, aboard the Galactic Guardian, and my entire complement of fighters at your disposal. The command is yours, Admiral. What are your orders?"
Johnston gave a slight bow to the Galactic Defense Force's supreme commander. "Thank you, Admiral Tekamah."
Taking control of the hologram, Johnston opened a fleet-wide channel.
***
"Ladies and gentlemen, what you just saw was a demonstration of the enemy's unrelenting resolve to employ their gene weapon. What you did not see was the loss of human life. Contrary to what the enemy believes, we didn't lose a soul in that engagement."
Wordlessly, Jake stared at holographic Johnston. He felt the knot in his gut begin to loosen. Was it possible that he hadn't just watched another crushing defeat, hadn't just seen tens of thousands of beings erased from the universe? He looked over to the Argonian liaison. For a change, Remulkin was speechless.
"It took some last-second maneuvering," Johnston said, "but we baited them into firing their entire complement of gene weapons." The admiral appeared to consult his wristwatch. "We now have forty-four minutes to convince them of the error of their ways."
Johnston pointed at someone out of camera range. After a moment, he nodded and looked back into the holocam. "We just dropped a disruptor field over the entire system. When the time comes, we'll lower it just long enough to allow our ingress. After that, you won't be able to execute a parallel-space jump." The admiral paused, and a predatory grin spread across his holographic rendering. "But neither will the enemy. In the meantime, unless they try to make another parallel-space jump, the Zoxyth won't know the field is up."
"Obviously, we had foreknowledge of the enemy's arrival. Sorry for the subterfuge, I'll explain later. In the meantime, we've put you in the best possible position to win this battle." Johnston shook his head. "No. Make that the best possible position to win this war. With a few minor deviations, your assignments remain unchanged. The live-fire exercise you planned is no longer a drill. However, your target is now that fleet," the admiral said, pointing off-screen.
Johnston nodded to someone on his bridge, and a chime rang from the Turtle's console.
Both Jake and Remulkin looked at it and then back to the hologram.
The image dissolved again, but the admiral's voice continued to echo across the Turtle's spacious confines.
"We've just transmitted orders and autopilot programming to every ship."
The display reformed. Holographic renderings of the Moon and all of the ships—friendly and enemy—returned to their previous locations. Apparently unaware they weren't alone, the Zoxyth fleet remained on their Earth-intercept course.
"When we exit parallel-space," Johnston said, "I will demand their unconditional surrender. But make no mistake, if they don't capitulate immediately, we will destroy them. Failing that …" The admiral didn't finish the sentence, but a sour look crossed his face. He just shook his head as if to rid an unpleasant thought.
After a moment, Johnston continued. "Weapons hold, ladies a
nd gentlemen. Let's give them a moment—a very short moment—to do the right thing."
Admiral Johnston's face returned to the hologram. A predatory grin spread across the man's face. "Now, let's shock the hell out of those damned lizards."
***
Admiral Johnston turned from the holocam and pointed at the TacCom officer. "Drop the disruptor field, on my mark."
The officer nodded.
"I want it back in place the moment we reenter normal space," Johnston added. "Don't let them escape, Major."
The Marine officer smiled. "Not a chance, sir."
Turning from TacCom, Johnston gave the GDF supreme commander a hard look. "Admiral Tekamah, tell me again why you're so sure they can't have a gene weapon waiting in the wings, why I should bet the battle, hell, the war on that belief?"
Tekamah nodded somberly then pointed into the hologram. "There are two reasons, actually. The power output of those ships perfectly matches that of a … standard—for lack of a better word—Zoxyth dreadnought, right down to their infrared signatures."
"Why's that significant?" Johnston said.
"Because the other thing we know is that that weapon requires a lot of power. So much power, in fact, that—without violating the laws of physics—their fusion reactors can't recharge faster than the observed time of fifty zurline or forty-five of your minutes."
"But what if they have more than one weapon aboard?" Johnston asked.
"They could have a hundred on each ship," Tekamah said. "However, they could only fire one of them every forty-five minutes."
"What if they added a spare, dedicated power supply?"
Tekamah nodded again. "That brings us back to my first point. Their IR signature would be different. You can't hide that much energy from the universe. We would see the extra heat leaking from their hulls, literally."
Johnston had heard all of this before, but considering the stakes, he needed the warm fuzzy of the admiral's assurances.
