The Forever Fight: The Forever Series Book 3

by Craig A. Robertson

  “The last time you encountered warp bubbles such as these, what was traveling inside them?”

  “A Berrillian war armada.”

  “What's a Berrillian, and what's their armada like?”

  “They are an ancient race, though not nearly as old as ours. We fought each other many times. The wars were good.”

  “What the hell is a good war? I've done war, and nothing remotely positive happened.”

  “You have a narrow view, Form. Our wars were grand! Countless battles were fought and all were vicious beyond words. Billions died and millions of planets were destroyed. In the end, their technology and their resolve could not match ours. They ran like frightened children. They retreated for millennia. They fled so fast, even I was eventually unable to track them. Frightened children. Run from your shadow in the night. I shall always find you and crush your bones.”

  “Manly,” I interrupted nervously. “Are you still talking to me? I hope like hell you're not, because you're sounding kind of psycho scary.”

  “Sorry, Form. My thoughts wandered. It will not happen again. May I be of any further assistance?”

  “How long until the Uhoor arrive? Al thinks about a week.”

  “Your ship's AI is approximately correct.”

  “Can you defeat that large a number and still guarantee the safety of those on the ground?” I held my breath.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you absolutely certain?”

  “Ninety-nine, ninety-eight percent, Form.”

  “Not the answer I wanted to hear, Wrath. Not the answer at all.”

  “Sorry, but those are the odds. Please remain optimistic. I was built to kill, and I do it with skill, precision, and persistence. I shall vaporize the last of the Uhoor. Yours are not to fret.”

  Manly was sounding nuttier by the minute. A tsunami of Uhoor were coming, and something possibly worse than very bad was going bump in the night in warp space. Great. Perfect!

  It was time for a Council of Elders meeting.

  TWENTY

  Sapale convened the meeting the next morning. The room, which was the largest we'd built, was packed. About a third of the population was on the council. When word circulated what we’d be talking about, everybody else made it a point to be there. I could tell people were frightened by the pitch of the voices and the tone of the snippets I caught. Who wouldn't be?

  Sapale called the meeting to order, which was, for the first time ever, hard to achieve. Nervous conversations persisted, and she had to actually use the gavel I made her. Turned out Kaljaxians never invented the gavel, so it was a first for her. I think she liked slamming it down—a lot. Hopefully she'd leave it in the council chamber and not bring it home.

  She announced that she was going to tell everybody all that was known. She'd heard wild rumors and permutations of the truth, so she wanted there to be no misunderstandings. The Uhoor were coming in force, presumably to do battle, but there was no way to confirm that ahead of their arrival. She reassured them that the vortex alone could probably protect the planet, but we were going to prepare all defenses. The few space craft we had would remain close to home as a second line of defense. Ground weapons and membranes were the third line of defense. Those would be adequate enough to kill any Uhoor that escaped the other perimeters. Sapale promised sincerely that no loss of life or property was anticipated.

  Someone in the back yelled that was good and well, but what about the murderous superrace following right behind them. The room exploded in shouts that reflected his concerns. I was amazed. The mighty Uhoor were nothing more than an annoyance to most attendees. Giant caterpillars. They feared the unknown, not the imminent threat.

  Sapale spoke loudly, declaring that it was not certain if the weak signals were that specific species or even heading remotely in our direction. Once the Uhoor were dealt with—hopefully peacefully—we would worry about what the far-away signal might mean.

  That brought murmurs and grunts of doubt from the audience. One of the immigrants stood and demanded that she be allowed to repatriate to Kaljax before the axe fell on doomed Azsuram. I was inclined to say I'd take her then and there, but it was Sapale's show. I held my tongue. My brood's-mate tried to reassure her, and anyone like-minded, that there was no planetary threat. If one ever presented itself, they would discuss all options. The woman refused to be seated. She declared that talk was cheap and that her life had value. She would not be placated or dismissed. Sapale looked to me, and I could tell she was on the verge of telling the bitch exactly what I had been ready to say.

  Sapale was, in her new incarnation, a society builder, so she opted for diplomacy. Anyone with further questions was encouraged to linger after the meeting, and she promised to stay as long as it took to answer everyone's questions. I admired Sapale's ability to be so tactful, but I worried a little that she'd actually turn into a talking-head politician. She’d smile a lot, shake every hand she saw, and kiss every baby. Yuck!

  Finally, the tense, discordant meeting drew to a close. Sapale reminded everyone that there would be twice daily emergency-preparedness drills until further notice. She asked that, in those extraordinary times, no one take the exercises lightly or ignore them. Everyone's survival depended on every individual doing their part correctly. That announcement was met with a sentiment as close to hostile contempt as I'd ever seen. People in crowds sure were a pain to deal with, despite being mostly close family. My impulse to jump in my ship and leave once and for all was almost irresistible. Second star to the right and straight on ’till morning never sounded so inviting.

  Fortunately, with all the fuss and preparation, the time waiting for the pod of ponderous pickles passed quickly enough. None too soon for my liking. Vhalisma and I were packing the vortex and were ready to fly out to intercept the Uhoor. Vhalisma had always been involved in defense issues, so she was a natural choice to bring as a copilot. JJ couldn't be spared, as he was then the head of the combined defenses of Azsuram. “Combined” was admittedly optimistic. At that time, “combined” meant everyone standing on terra firma. In the future, we envisioned there would be ground, sea, and space arms to our military.

  I parked Wrath directly in the path of the Uhoor, two days’ travel at their speed from Azsuram. That way, if it all went to hell in a handbasket, the remaining two lines of defense would have plenty of notice that they were about to become relevant. I did bring Al too. Lily had several new AIs to help her coordinate matters back home. As irascible as Al could be, I knew I could count on him in a battle. He might also help if that damn vortex manipulator went completely rogue. I was beginning to understand why someone buried him on some forgotten planet. The nice part about Al was that I didn't have to specifically tell him Wrath scared the shit out of me. If I did, that factoid would have become data easily hacked by the manipulator. Al knew me so well after living in such close quarters for so long that I didn't have to spell out such obvious issues.

  “Are they in weapons distance yet, Manly?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  “Yes, Form. They have been for several hours. I have each blight targeted and am ready to vaporize them to their version of hell. Shall I fire now, or would you prefer to look into their eyes as they boil from their heads?

  “Stand down,” I said firmly. “I wish to communicate with them. I want to see if we can arrive at some peaceful solution well before any fighting commences.”

  “Form, this is madness! We have discussed sentimentality in combat before. I serve you, but part of my service is to provide you with honest critiques. Please do not make decisions based on needless and unattainable goals, however well intentioned. This scum has broken their word and is attacking your family. Think not of vague ideals, Form. Think rather of your tiny grandchild, Latrytin, as she lies at this very moment, sleeping in her crib. The Uhoor would kill her and laugh of it for eons. Come, comrade, let me fire now. Then we shall return home in glory. The women will come to us like moths to an irresistible flame, and together,
we shall drink the night away.”

  Man, he was good. Good and insane. He was rational, deferential, even poetic in his convincing argument to avoid morality and engage in mindless bloodlust. Dangerous guy. I'd have to keep my head. I thanked my lucky stars Al was along for the ride. He'd picked up on the lunacy also. Who in their right mind programmed this vortex manipulator?

  “Open and confirm back to me a communication channel to the lead Uhoor. I think that would be Tho.”

  There was an unnecessary delay, then Manly spoke with obvious disgust. “Tho is not among the pod.”

  “Can you determine which one is in charge?”

  “No, and that's the truth, before you further accuse me of duplicity, Form.”

  I sure hoped his mental facilities outlasted this battle! “Then make it audible to all of them. Say: This is Captain Ryan, Form of Wrath. You are in direct violation of our treaty that keeps you on the other side of the galaxy from Azsuram. Please declare your intentions.” I waited a few seconds. “Any response?”

  “Yes. They have sped up.”

  Crap! “Tell them this: If you do not stop and negotiate, I will destroy all of you. There will be no more Uhoor. If you force my hand, your great species will become extinct.” Again, I asked, “Any response?”

  “None. As I counseled, Form, these brutes are incapable of reason. They are driven by malevolence and spite. The galaxy will be a better and safer place for every righteous species once you, Captain Jonathan Ryan, seize all the glory and become a legendary hero to a grateful, subservient universe.”

  “Belay the editorials, Manly. Fire one pulsed shot across the brow the nearest Uhoor. Let them know I mean business.”

  “They would know it better, less ambiguously, if you allowed me to target the leader herself. Her renegade marauding party must be punished maximally. She who whipped them into a state of bestial vengeance seeking is not to be forgiven.”

  Double crap. Manly was coming apart at the seams. “How, Wrath, do you know the leader is a female? You said Tho was not present.”

  Al spoke. “I have received enough chatter to believe with confidence the leader is a female named Ablo. The pod is, for lack of a better descriptor, cheering her on.”

  “Based on all contact with Wrath in the past, do you believe Manly knew that too?”

  “It is a certainty.”

  “Wrath, your Form is pissed—mega-pissed! If you deceive me, lie to me, or mislead me one more time, so help me I will withdraw my control prerogatives. We'll drift in space until the Uhoor come and pound us to dust.”

  “Form,” he said, “there has been a tremendous error of misunderstanding between you and me. I cannot mislead you. I have not lied. Please keep in mind I am an alien device and am still learning your ways and nuances. Command, and I shall obey.”

  “Fire one warning short twenty meters ahead of this Ablo bitch. Then, Al, hail her and demand an immediate, unconditional surrender.”

  “F…Form,” Manly stammered, “I am best equipped to—”

  “Shut it, Manly. I want my orders followed without discussion or grousing. You both have tasks. Perform them.” Man oh man, was I hot. If Manly was standing in front of me, I'd deck him.

  “The shot was fired, and I hailed Ablo,” reported Al. No course change or communication from the Uhoor.”

  “Estimated time of arrival?”

  “Two minutes,” they both said in a chorus.

  “How long will it take you to target and fire on all the Uhoor, Manly and Al?” Al controlled the rail cannon. I knew it would be next to useless against all those flying kielbasas, but I wanted to make the point to Manly that I had options that didn't include him. Really, it was silly posturing. I needed the cube. But maybe I could bluff the maniacal computer into somewhat better behavior.

  “Thirteen seconds,” replied Manly.

  “One minute twenty-five seconds to deliver ten rail balls to each Uhoor.” Ten hits would only serve to make them madder than they already were. I had thirty-five seconds to decide.

  Still bluffing my ass off, I said, “Al, I will depend on Manly for this engagement. Please, however, remain fully ready to fire if Manly screws up.”

  I waited a few seconds. No response from either machine.

  “Wrath, target and destroy all Uhoor with incoming vectors. Alert me when this is accomplished.”

  For an assault of that magnitude releasing all that energy, I would have expected the cube to recoil, the lights to dim, or my teeth to rattle. Nothing happened, not even an audible kathunk.

  Twenty-five seconds later, Manly said, “All the Uhoor are dead. Most were vaporized, a few remain corporeal with major portions of their flesh missing.”

  “Thank you, Manly. Are there any living Uhoor on your sensors?”

  “None, Form.”

  “Al, how ’bout yours?” I wanted to keep Manly honest.

  “None,” Al's quickly replied.

  “Okay,” I said more to myself, “that's that.” Those Uhoor were more stupid and stubborn than humans were. I would not have thought that possible. “Manly, take us home.”

  All that was left for me was the sick feeling of failure I got in my gut after each and every battle. Conflict—killing—marked the ultimate failure of reason. Each time, I got the dry heaves for a few hours and hated myself for a few days. Then came the remorse of knowing I'd taken a life, or, in this case, thousands of lives. The hollow reassurance that they attacked me did nothing to ease the cancer of remorse that ate at my brain. When I saw Doc, maybe I'd see if he could delete the portion of my personality that regretted the inevitable. Some people might call that humanity. I called it inconvenient. I didn't want to feel it any longer. Not anymore.

  I'd radioed ahead that we'd won the battle, lopsided though it had been. The vortex landing site was, as a result, surrounded by a cheering crowd when we materialized. Vhalisma and I exited and were immediately embraced by what seemed to be the entire population of Azsuram. As long as I lived, I'd never tire of the adulation and support of an admiring public after a victory. Heady stuff. But it never offset the sadness I felt.

  After the initial hoopla, Sapale pulled me to one side and gave me the biggest kiss in recorded history. “All of our worries are over. I'm so happy I may burst.”

  “All of them?” I said with a patented Jon smile.

  “Marshall is actually gone, and the Uhoor are extinct. We—you and I—are free of their threats. We can breathe again.”

  I'm more a believer in sequential turds. You kicked one out of your path and someone quickly laid another one, probably worse, in the unoccupied space. But there was no reason to pop her bubble. Hey, maybe the universe was fresh out of excrement to obstruct our progress. Time would tell. And it did. The populace of Azsuram, and especially Sapale, had a very good two weeks. Yeah, only two weeks of that life-is-good feeling.

  One evening, Toño dropped by our house. “I'd like you to come to the lab and look at some data I think you need to be aware of.” He spoke a bit in code to keep from overtly worrying Sapale. Yeah, that was as likely as not upsetting a lion by hitting it on the head with a stick. Her eyes shot back and forth between us, looking for a tell.

  “No prob. You be there tomorrow morning?” I was making a lame stab at being clever, downplaying the possible significance.

  Toño looked thoughtful. “Yes, I will probably be there. However, you'd best come now. That way, I won't worry that I delayed informing you—”

  “Let’s go,” said Sapale, standing. She snatched her handheld from her waist. “Fash, can you come over now and watch the little ones? Great.” She thumbed it off and replaced it on her belt. “She’s on her way. Let me get my coat.”

  We walked to the lab in silence. Small talk felt inappropriate when we were about to get bad news.

  Toño sat at a console and punched a few buttons. A series of wave forms appeared on the screen. The lines seemed chaotic, but I recognized them as the warp signatures he'd discovered a wh
ile ago. Crap and a half! It was going to be big, bad news. He traced out one particular line. “These are the tracings I showed Jon a few months back.”

  Sapale knew about the phantoms coursing the void, but she had never seen the actual patterns.

  “These,” he said after hitting a button, “are tracings, or rather the lack of them, that were recorded two weeks ago.” He turned at looked at me solemnly. “The warp signatures disappeared shortly after Wrath destroyed on the Uhoor.”

  “That's an odd coincidence,” I said without much enthusiasm.

  “Yes.” Toño actually scoffed. He'd expressed many a negative attitude toward me over the centuries, but he'd never done that. “Quiet the coincidence if only it actually were one.” He hit another button. “These are the return of the warp signatures, here, a little while after the incident ended.”

  “So,” I said, “what, my firing interfered with reception?”

  “Jon,” he said firmly, “there's a considerable difference between wishful thinking and the placing of one's head in the sand. Look at the signals.” He rapped the screen with a knuckle.

  I studied the waves. They looked the same, didn't they? I mean, what were they supposed to do? “You gotta help me out here. They look the same to me.”

  His fingers raced over a keyboard, and two different signals appeared on the split screen. “Here,” he said pointing, “before and after. The signal is blue-shifted.”

  “Sorry,” Sapale said, “I've heard the term, but what does it mean in this context?”

  “When a source moves away from the observer, it's red-shifted.” He stopped speaking.

  “And, if the source is moving toward the observer,” she finished his thought, “the signal is blue-shifted?”

  “Yes. Just after Wrath put on a monumental display of force, whatever's out there turned toward us.”

  “Guess who's coming to dinner?” I mumbled to myself.

  “Who?” asked my confused brood's-mate.

  “Somebody,” I said coarsely, “who's neither invited nor welcome.”