by Neal Asher
Jack’s own anti-munitions created an image of the NEJ beside him as he re-engaged chameleonware. But that was no distraction for the cloud of rail-gun projectiles hammering up at the ship from underneath. His carousels whirling at blinding speed, he fired a large-yield imploder down towards that cloud, hoping to hoover up most of them, then aimed lower-yield straight CTDs towards a wall of bacilliform ships massing ahead and threw himself into a 100 gravity turn. That was the limit, since the internal gravplates would not compensate for a harder turn, and though the dracomen might survive it, Cormac would not. Blegg, of course, was another matter entirely…
The physical attack was not all of it. A constant bombardment of informational attack kept trying to breach their coms systems. Jack allowed some of this through, routing it into secure storage. A message constantly repeated: I am Erebus, merge with me, be one.
Ah, so that’s what it’s all about, Jack thought. ‘Out of here,’ he sent.
The three remaining ships dropped into U-space and jumped back along their inward course. Many of the alien ships followed. Breathing space, at least. Having located the enemy, the time had now come to call in the big guns. Jack sent a U-space package to the fleet of Polity dreadnoughts, informing them they should come and play. In a matter of days the Centurions would reach them then the pursuing ships would be in serious—
Suddenly, a solid wall of U-space interference expanded in their course, taking that option away as it slapped them out into realspace. Jack located himself, finding they now lay within the planetary system they had traversed earlier. Fusion drives igniting, they ran for cover as their pursuers began to materialize. A wall of those bacilliform ships began to form ahead of them, while masers, lasers and missiles probed space in search of the remaining three chameleonware-concealed Centurions.
‘Well, we strolled straight into that one,’ observed the Centurion’s AI.
‘What the hell was that, Jack?’ Cormac asked, also frantically applying at other levels for information.
‘We assumed we would be able to run,’ Jack replied. ‘We assumed wrong because the bad guys here possess USERs.’
‘Oh shit.’
Viewing internally, Jack noted Cormac heading for the bridge. He looked rather sick.
‘Group together,’ Jack sent. ‘We cut a hole through it at five hundred miles.’
All three ships concentrated maser fire on targets directly ahead. No point using missiles in this situation as they would be travelling as fast as any munitions they fired. The planetary system would make a perfect killing field for the three ‘ware concealed ships. They would be able to use guerrilla tactics—hitting and hiding—for some time. But the living crews aboard the three ships were a problem. By the sheer violence of their manoeuvring the aggressors demonstrated that they did not have the same liability aboard them. Jack noticed that some of the pursuers were also apparently fading out of existence, which meant the Centurions had no advantage in possessing chameleonware.
‘Jack, your hands need to be untied,’ said Cormac from the acceleration chair in which he had strapped himself. ‘Coriolanus has eight Sparkind aboard, and Haruspex has sixteen plus Thorn. Here we have myself and Blegg and nearly a hundred dracomen. I suggest a fast shuttle drop over one of the inhabited worlds, then you can manoeuvre properly.’
It seemed the only sensible move. Their living occupants at least stood a better chance down on the surface of a planet than aboard Centurions that could not manoeuvre properly or aboard smaller vessels dropped in vacuum.
Cormac continued, ‘I’ve already transmitted orders to the others to load up with weapons and supplies… I’m presuming reinforcements will be on the way?’
‘They should be.’
‘How long?’
‘Days only, supposing the USER is shut down. We are presently trying to locate it. Its range is not large—about a light year radius.’ He did not add that should the USER not be shut down, the dreadnoughts would take more than a year to arrive, for Cormac knew that.
‘And your chances of shutting it down?’
‘Good, against the present forces, but we have yet to locate it.’
‘Then you drop us. Run for the nearest of those living planets. Which one is it?’
‘The hot one.’
‘Within range of the standard envirosuit?’
‘Yes.’
‘Transmit everything you have on that world to my gridlink.’ Cormac began unstrapping himself. ‘Time to get ready.’
Jack could not help but notice the tired fatalism in Cormac’s voice. The AI pondered the situation for a microsecond, then opened a secure com channel.
‘You don’t need to leave,’ he said to the recipient.
‘But nevertheless I shall.’
‘The issue is not just one of danger to your physical body — captured, you would be a very useful source of information to any enemy.’
‘I outrank you,’ Blegg replied, ‘and I’m bloody well going.’ He cut the channel.
As an afterthought, Jack sent another internal message: ‘Arach, I think you just found what you were hoping for.’
* * * *
Blegg’s ship dropped from the NEJ and accelerated away under high G, following the two shuttles containing most of the dracomen, which had departed a few minutes earlier. Cormac glanced back at the spider-drone squatting directly behind him, then at the thirty dracomen packed beyond it, then returned his attention to the screen. Further ahead, the two other shuttles that had departed even earlier, containing Thorn and the Sparkind, were entering atmosphere, their nose cones now cupped in orange brilliance.
‘Proceed directly to the coordinates,’ he instructed Thorn over com. ‘Grab your stuff and get out fast once you arrive there. The shuttles may well be targeted.’
While receiving information direct to his gridlink, and modelling the positions of the three Polity ships and the enemy vessels, Cormac directed his attention specifically to the lower row of subscreens, to ascertain the order of events in their vicinity. He watched as one of the spiral ships unravelled under concentrated fire from both the Coriolanus and the Haruspex. An exterior flash momentarily blanked all subscreens and caused the main cockpit screen to darken. The spiral ammonite ship became a spreading cloud of burning fragments. Their own vessel lurched to one side as something speared past it and down towards the leading shuttles. A vapour trail suddenly knifed out from this projectile and it detonated.
‘Maser,’ commented Blegg. It seemed that the Centurions above were still covering them.
Their ship hit atmosphere, an orange glow around the cockpit screen and sparks flicking up past from the rapidly heating nose cone. This would be no gentle AG descent—they could not afford the time for that. The craft began to shudder.
The NEJ became invisible, then it reappeared, 1,000 miles to one side, to strafe some ball of wormish objects squirming through vacuum. It came out of that attack in a high-G turn that would, despite the internal gravplates, have converted any human aboard into bone fragments and bloody sludge. A CTD blew behind it, completely deleting from existence the object of its assault. NEJ now rejoined the other ships, which put themselves between the attackers and the planet. It seemed like three matadors facing a stampede of bulls.
Now deeper in atmosphere, the roar of their descent impinged. Far to their left a cross-hatching of red lines cut the horizon. Below these, bright fires ignited, then a disc of cloud spread directly above.
Rail-gun missiles.
If that fusillade had come down directly on them they would be dead by now.
‘They are not concentrating on us,’ said Blegg.
‘I realize that,’ Cormac agreed.
Blegg relentlessly added, ‘With that kind of firepower, they won’t need to hunt us down—they could just take out this entire planet.’
‘You’re such a bundle of joy,’ Cormac observed.
The curve of the horizon now rose high in the screen. The two dracomen shuttles from NEJ
now sat low and to their right, and the two leading Sparkind shuttles were far ahead, just seen as black dots containing the white stars of fusion drives. The sky above them lightened to a pale green, then suddenly a sun-bright explosion ignited within it. Cormac lost com through his gridlink, and could no longer view in his mind the battle above.
‘Jack?’
Nothing in response—it could mean that the NEJ had been destroyed, but he could not know right then, might never know. A few minutes later Blegg’s vessel lurched as the Shockwave impacted. Cormac was about to make some comment on this when Blegg jerked the joystick violently to one side. Rail-gun missiles knifed down at forty-five degrees from behind. One missile found a target and Cormac saw one of the dracomen shuttles cartwheeling through the air, its rear end sheared off, humanoid figures tumbling out. The pilot obviously engaged its gravmotors, trying to stabilize it, and he seemed to be succeeding, then something blew in the shuttle’s side and it dropped like a brick.
‘Fuck,’ said Cormac. He glanced back at the team of dracomen aboard, who had just lost thirty or so of their comrades. They knew this loss, for it was his understanding that they kept constant mental contact with each other. Yet they showed no particular agitation, merely seemed to focus more intently on checking over their weaponry.
To the shuttles escaping ahead he said, ‘If you’ve got gravharnesses aboard, put them on now.’ By the silence that met this instruction he supposed Thorn and Bhutan could think of no sufficiently polite reply.
A mountain range reared over the horizon, like rotten teeth in a lower jaw, while a ceiling of grey cloud slid overhead. The leading shuttles penetrated a cloud wall and winked out. As soon as Blegg’s vessel followed them in, he touched some control and the cloud wall seemed to simply disappear. This ship’s scanning gear formed the view from emitted radiation that could penetrate the murk, and showed a terrain of steep valleys quickly filled with steaming red growth. Lower now, the sound within the shuttle turning to a dull roar; a subscreen revealing that they now flew through heavy, dirty-looking rain. The jungle melded together until it covered the ground right to the horizon. The leading Sparkind shuttles turned as did the remaining dracoman shuttle. Blegg checked coordinates and adjusted his ship’s course.
‘What’s that?’ Cormac asked, seeing some object dropping in behind the leading shuttles.
Blegg accelerated the vessel. Normally used only for the orbital insertion of troops, and supposedly covered by their mother ships, the shuttles were armed only with lasers. But right now those mother ships were rather busy. Blegg’s vessel, however, carried rail-gun missile launchers and pulse-cannons in its forward nacelles. He brought weapons systems online. Laser flashes now became visible between the leading shuttles and the object approaching them. Blegg glanced at Cormac. ‘Take control of the weapons.’
Through his gridlink, Cormac applied to the onboard computer, which instantly routed him to weapons control. Once again his sensory field expanded as data from the ship’s sensors came through to him. Sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, his view now included more than just the screens: it encompassed a wider visual area plus radar returns, and microwave and gravity maps of a huge volume surrounding the ship. He now also controlled targeting frames, and his virtual fingers wrapped around virtual triggers.
Thorn’s voice came over com, ‘Message to self: boredom is good!’
‘We’ll be with you in thirty seconds,’ Cormac replied as he laid a frame over the object pursuing the shuttles, obtained full acquisition of it, and fired. The ship bucked and white streaks cut the air on either side of it. ‘But the missiles will be with you earlier,’ he added.
Now Cormac focused the ship’s sensors and enlarged an image—transferring it to a subscreen for Blegg also to see. This revealed one of the bacilliform ships, precisely the rod-like shape of a bacterium but about twenty yards long, with its exterior a completely featureless blue-grey except where the lasers struck it, leaving livid burns like bruises. Whatever propulsion system it used showed no visual evidence, so Cormac assumed it must be somehow utilizing antigravity. While they watched, multiple laser strikes converged on its nose, and it shuddered and slowed like an aggressive dog receiving a reprimanding smack. Then it accelerated again.
‘It’s not using any weapons,’ Cormac noted, ‘and it can’t be some kind of bomb. One that large wouldn’t need to get so close to the shuttles.’
‘Capture,’ explained Blegg bluntly. ‘If they really wanted to take us out, we would be dead by now.’
The strange vessel drew itself within a hundred yards of the rearmost Sparkind shuttle, then the two missiles finally reached it. One massive blast turned it into a cloud of burning debris. Cormac quickly threw the second missile into a holding pattern. It overflew the explosion, circled round. No need to recall it or make it safe, for now ten more of those rod-ships were approaching. Obeying new instructions the missile shot off on an entirely new course. Blegg looked at him questioningly, so Cormac threw a radar display up on a subscreen to show him what was happening. A few seconds later they watched the missile reduce the number of approaching rod-ships to nine. The flash of the explosion lit the cockpit screen, then suddenly the nine ships became visible through it.
‘How long to the landing area?’ Cormac asked.
‘Five minutes,’ Blegg replied.
Over com Cormac said, ‘I repeat: no delays once you’re down—we’ve got incoming.’
Thorn replied, ‘Yeah, we see them.’
Three of the rod-ships pursued the two Sparkind shuttles while the other six turned towards Blegg’s ship and the remaining dracoman shuttle. Cormac created then loaded a search-and-destroy program into six missiles, and fired them one after another. That left him with just twelve explosive missiles, the pulse-cannons and a laser. Some EMP knocked three of the missiles from the sky, and Cormac tried to re-acquire them as they fell. The three remaining missiles impacted, bursting rod-ships in actinic explosions and scattering their debris across the sky. He managed to stabilize two of the falling missiles a hundred yards from the jungle canopy and brought them back on target. He then considered instructing Blegg to close up on the rod-ship now hurtling towards the dracoman shuttle, but Blegg anticipated him and turned their vessel. Cormac brought the pulse-cannons online, and they roared steadily. The first fusillade blackened the rod-ship with burn holes, but only briefly slowed it. Two more such hits and it began to pour out smoke, then it abruptly dropped from the sky. By then the two returning missiles found their targets. Blegg brought their own vessel up through the smoke and a sleet of debris, like burning skin, and accelerated towards the other three attackers, which now closed rapidly on the two lead shuttles.
Cormac selected and fired another six of the remaining missiles, target acquisition locked, and identification programs running so they would not mistake the escaping shuttles for enemy craft.
‘Can this bucket go any faster?’ he asked.
‘We’ll overshoot if we do, and lose manoeuvrability.’
‘Okay.’
The missiles he fired moved ahead of the ship quite slowly. Cormac focused beyond them, pulling up images in his gridlink and on one of the subscreens. One of the rod-ships had drawn very close to the rearmost shuttle—less than fifty yards away from it. At present relative speeds, no missile would reach the assailant before it reached its target. Perhaps it would be forced to slow, as laser strikes were turning its front end blue-black and it trailed smoke and occasionally belched oily flame from splits in its surface. Suddenly, however, the attacking object surged ahead, as if finding some grip on the very air. It thumped down on the shuttle and stuck to it. Cormac instantly cancelled it as a target.
Com: ‘Shuttle Two, gravharnesses now. Get out of there!’
Shuttle and rod-ship began to plummet. Cormac tracked them tightly and kept focused in. The rod-ship deflated as it extruded a hundred rootlike growths to wrap around the shuttle.
‘The lock’s jammed, screens covered,�
�� came Bhutan’s reply. ‘Will attempt to blow—’ Just then the beleaguered shuttle’s drive abruptly cut out and, encompassed in a mass of organic growth, it began tumbling through the sky. Screams issued over com, and Cormac listened only briefly before he shut down the connecting comlink and instantly sent transmissions to the other shuttles instructing them to accept nothing further on that channel. Sparkind did not scream easily, but Cormac knew just how quickly Jain technology could take control of a human being. Then, in the time it took him to blink, the white flash then massive blast of a tactical CTD erased the shuttle. Someone aboard had retained enough presence of mind to know they would not be getting out of there alive, and took the enemy with them.
Belatedly, two further explosions as a pair of the missiles destroyed the last two attackers.
‘That could have gone—’ Cormac began, but suddenly a shadow drew across the sky, and under it a bright light flared. Before the sound of the explosion impinged, horizon and jungle were already whipping past the screen. Then came the massive blast and Blegg’s vessel was spinning and falling through burning debris. Cormac considered warning the dracomen to brace themselves for impact, and rejected the idea. It seemed pointless to state the obvious.
The bacilliform ships did not shoot back, though they kicked out a huge amount of EM interference which increased as they conjoined. It seemed they were designed to initially blank out communication, then, if a ship drew close enough to one of those walls they formed, to completely disrupt its systems, including the AI mind inside. Jack suspected they served some other purpose as well, for individually they kept trying to make close contact with the Centurions—something none of them had yet managed to do. The lens-shaped ships deployed plenty of weaponry, but in a one-on-one fight were no match for the Centurions and were soon disabled or destroyed. Those accretions of hundred-foot-long metal worms, once they untangled, became lethal highly intelligent missiles themselves. But the remaining five big ammonite spiral ships remained the greatest danger, for they carried all the armament of a Polity destroyer—the wormish things being one weapon they deployed—and all the processing power of a runcible AI, for they quickly found solutions to the Centurions’ chameleonware. Each new program deployed lasted no more than half an hour—no time at all during a space battle.
