by Kevin Gordon
rippling across their hulls, the deafening roar of the cannons echoing through the ships. Suld and Hildnic watched the battle shift back and forth—the oreships advancing, then repulsed by thousands of fighters. Hildnic constantly linked with the clone controllers, assessing the performance of the clones in combat.
^How are they doing?^ asked Suld, reviewing the battlefield.
^As well as could be expected,^ replied Hildnic. ^They were made from some great men and women, I can even see some of their characteristics in the way they have fought this battle. I think though, that this is the first time they have fought other Novans. The originals fought against the Rell.^ Hildnic cast to one of his clone controllers. ^Do you think we’ll have any issues with the clones?^
^Not from any of those with optimal conditioning. But I worry about the unique ones, those that have a spark of identity.^
That’s the closest anyone has come to calling this what it really is, thought Suld. A civil war. Or have the TELREC truly become something other than Novan? And will the clones see them as such?
An oreship close by took a series of direct hits from a TELREC capital, impacting several fuel cells that ignited in great blooms of fire. The ship still moved on, keeping the damaged side away from the cannons of the capital, and pressing forward the attack.
^Bold moves,^ cast Suld, impressed.
^Indeed. I would say the only issue with the clones is that they will not give up a fight,^ replied Hildnic. ^It is up to the controller to force them to retreat.^
One of the oreships’ reactors overheated, blowing a large hole in its hull. LN-01 concentrated its fire on that ship, and with its NnuG barrier down, the capital’s emdec cannons ripped easily through the hull, destroying the oreship in mroas.
^Cover up that opening!^ cried Hildnic, bolting forward in his seat, the sweat beading on his forehead. ^Make them pay for that victory!^
Three other oreships converged on the site of the destroyed ship, letting loose with all their weapons on the capital. Hildnic jumped to his feet and moved around the nexus like a caged animal, analyzing every facet of the battle, drawing on all his combat experience to formulate something to break the capitals.
^Damage assessment on capital ship?^
^Twenty percent reduction in NnuG barrier power,^ replied Ilasko. ^Five of our ships are nearing critical condition, and will not last long—they are almost ripped of their barriers.^
Suld watched and couldn’t believe the strength of the TELREC ships. He watched the capital in his mind, its proud hull unblemished by emdec fire, its metal still gleaming in the sunlight. Fighters still streamed out of its openings, its main guns firing relentlessly from seemingly unlimited power reserves.
We have been working on our weaponry for a thousand cas! How could their hull design be so advanced? How could their shields be so much more powerful? How will we win?
^Status on incoming ships?^ Hildnic sat down again, gaining control of his frustration.
^Second squadron is entering parcel three of the battlegrid,^ replied Ilasko. ^Twenty ships, fully operational.^
^Finally,^ cast Hildnic, gratefully relieved. ^Are the disabled oreship’s engines still operational?^
^Yes.^
^Operate them by autopilot. Try to ram the capital ship.^
Suld stood. ^That will mean the sacrifice of all on board, Hildnic.^
^They knew the risks. What percent clone?^
^Eighty percent, with thirty meta on board,^ replied Ilasko.
^It’s the best option, Suld. Reconfigure the priorities of the meta, and ram that ship!^
The ship sprang to life, its engines pulsing with power. It turned, and advanced quickly on LN-01. The ship concentrated its fire on the oreship, ripping into its hull, obliterating the nexus. As the oreship got closer to the capital ship, Suld could see with his own eyes how massive the TELREC ship was, as he watched through the oreship’s scanners. The oreship finally impacted, overloading LN-01's barrier, breaking into its beautiful lines. The upper left quadrant of the capital was heavily damaged, explosions rippling around the main gun as power could be seen failing in over half the ship.
^Push in!^ cried Hildnic, sensing victory at last. ^Send in the meta!^
The shields crackled around the two ships as they staggered through the void, pushed along by the capital ship’s mighty engines. The oreship managed two more quick engine bursts to drive itself further into the hull of the capital. Small arms fire could be seen exchanged by both ships, as massive meta surged from the oreship into LN-01. The oreship was rocked by internal explosions, as its systems collapsed under the strain.
^Meta in place, sir.^
^Detonate!^ slammed Hildnic, pounding his fist on his chair.
The capital ship shuddered in the void as hundreds of explosions could be seen erupting from its hull. Lighting throughout the ship flickered, then went out, leaving it a dead hulk in the void. The oreship finally exploded, blowing away the capital’s entire front left section, its wide wings fractured and dissolving in the fire. Great cheers went up on the Onzic.
^Amazing work, Hildnic,^ cast Suld, rising to his feet.
^Thank you, Mechle.^ Hildnic gestured to Ilasko. ^And our Saeren?^
^You know I don’t like to be proven wrong,^ cast Suld grudgingly. ^But it looks like you have a fine Saeren under your command.^
^Who knows, she just might make General someroa,^ he cast, laughing with Suld. He turned back to Ilasko. ^Status?^
^General, the twenty oreships have arrived, and await your orders,^ she cast, assimilating their on-board systems into her control program.
^Good. Order them to surround the two capitals, and fire at will.^
^Yes sir. Wait, I don’t believe it.^
^What?^ asked Hildnic, as Ilasko manually double checked her instruments.
^Two more capital ships, moving quickly on our position.^
^Damn. Identify!^
^LN-40 and LN-29.^
Hildnic sat down, his mind racing over the possible strategies. How many do they have? How have they concealed a fleet this size? Theia screamed into his and Suld’s mind.
^We have gained the upper hand on one of the capitals! Where are your fighters?^
Hildnic sprang to life. ^Order all fighters to converge on Theia’s position. Bring all oreships to bear on the two new capitals. Summon the offensive meta from their defensive orbit around Gan-Elldon, and have them converge on the new capitals also.^
^Yes sir.^
Hildnic sat back as the ship arced in the void, leading the fleet to new co-ordinates.
It may not be pretty, it may not be planned, but somehow, we will win this roa.
14
The Envoy ships were named after famous Novans. Colineuse, widely regarded as one of the bravest Novans in history, Rulsi, great pioneer of the void and business, regarded as the creator of OLMAC. And DiFlens, who in the cas 4560, almost succeeded in abolishing the cast-net. One of the most eloquent writers in Novan history, DiFlens penned thirty novels about the obliteration of the self in the face of the state. His name was reviled for centuries, his works burned in annual celebrations of his death. But his words lived on, his philosophy gaining a foothold in the minds of the youth, and eventually he was hailed as a true patriot, a man who believed in the strength and spirit of the Novan. Together the Colineuse, the Rulsi, and the DiFlens were the most ambitious technological project executed by the Novans, second only to the creation of ExterNovan.
The massive sun shades slid with absolute precision along their EM tracks, gliding slowly upwards into the housing above. The true sun flooded the room, negating the mitterlight, exposing cracks and crevices that lay dormant in shadow. All through the suite small maintenance meta sprang to life, crawling over tables and chairs, spraying a fine mist, then extending miniature scrubbing brushes, then a polisher, then finally a small vacuum. They worked methodically, following a pre-set cleaning pattern they had known since their incorporation into this suite. It was a massive
landscape that dwarfed the tiny machines, but they functioned stoically, undaunted by the challenge, sweeping over the landscape twice a roa, no matter if there were visitors or not.
In the middle of the landscape, on a steeply reclined chair sat Olixce, wife of the Sovereign of the Novan Leviathan. A remarkably beautiful woman, with tight muscles, supple, blemish-free skin, glistening maroon eyes, she sat with her hands on her lap, her eyes wide open, yet unmoving. Often the cleaning meta would venture within a hairbreadth of her skin, debating in their small yet terribly advanced minds whether she was organic or synthetic, whether she should be cleaned or avoided. At least three meta in the course of their cleaning had this internal debate, always ultimately decided when she sighed, or her hand flinched, causing the meta to move on.
Iant Cou, Sovereign of the Leviathan, walked into the room during this ballet of maintenance, his eyes caught by the thumb-sized metal machines crawling around the suite like an infestation of vermin. He didn’t know why he thought of them in those terms this roa, but he wasn’t in a particularly good mood. It had been a difficult transition, losing Ksilte and those of SC-1, having them replaced by Uld and the filth he associated with. The government had never been so apathetic, so resistant to change. Ksilte had many procedure modifications cued that were now either tabled or dismissed. Extra security for the Ascension, improved training for CRODAM officers, increased oversight of cast-net stations. Ksilte even was going to propose banning cast content that
