“Hiding in the amplified energy field.” Buran said. “Very well, take position to fire emitters at the hellship and target the small force. We will destroy them with our gun batteries after destroying Anguhr.”
On the hellship, all felt a growing tingle as energy from Old Jove coursed through the aegis. Solok noted the vectors of all combatants on the screens.
“Lord, both the Sword Wing and Zaria’s squadrons are moving, but the Sword Wing will not be at the planned, optimal distance when for the scythe strike.”
“Lucky then we have other weapons,” Anguhr replied. “Make the scythe, and lock the Sword Wing into the field.”
On the Sword Wing, Chelnar felt building tension as he watched another energy level build. Next to him, Roelar gave his update.
“Admiral, emitters are ninety percent of full charged. Secondary enemy formation has slowed along attack vector.”
“Slowed?” Buran questioned as he watched the formations velocity decrease on the graphics. “Fire projectors at ninety-five percent. It will finally rid the universe of Anguhr and his ship. Let us—”
Warning icons flashed as the circle around the hellship symbol expanded rapidly. The image switched to live cameras. A massive sword point of plasma sheathed in crimson fire quickly flashed into view. Then the scythe struck the ship.
The Sword Wing did not lurch. It shook violently. Buran fell from his chair. His officers flew from their stations as gravity ebbed and the violence of the shacking increased.
In space, the scythe cut through the Sword Wing’s electromagnetic shields. They were powerful enough to weaken the distant strike, but the remaining energy cut across the hull and incinerated deployed cannons. It burned through bulkheads as an electric arc cuts through weak metal. Still, the massive ship endured. Surviving, automatic rockets steadied the drifting craft.
Buran pulled himself to the missing Chelnar’s station. An odd hum filled ears and the ship’s atmosphere. He reached up and entered commands. The projectors returned to show the closing of the manta ray ships. Buran targeted the formation and opened fire with his remaining cannon.
Energy lances fired from the Sword Wing’s surviving batteries now openly exposed to space. They struck several mantas that blew apart on course to their target. Their formation reformed to close the gaps and returned fire. The particle beams shot from eye-like ports near their glowing mouths. The beams scorched the Sword Wing’s hull, but were too far away to penetrate.
Buran’s defensive fire continued. More mantas exploded. Again, they closed their formation and continued on target. Another salvo destroyed more mantas. Their formation closed the gaps and their speed increased. Buran managed a last salvo. Only a few mantas on their formation’s left flank exploded. The rest split into two formations that flew straight into the half-cube emitters.
Against the size of the Sword Wing, the mantas were small ships. But their impact wrought a series of explosions across both emitters. The structures convulsed and then blew apart from a release of trapped energy. Odd domes of light bending waves expanded over the stern. The main engine glowed hot and died with an outward gush of plasma.
The Sword Wing still pointed her bow at the approaching hellship. Buran entered the commands for all remaining batteries to fire a wide salvo.
Proxis piloted his huge, burning ship with unsurpassed skill. But Buran had charged his weapons with all remaining power and calculated all probable locations of the hellship within a cone of fire as it bore down on the Sword Wing. The stressed aegis absorbed most of the impacts, but one. That beam struck the hellship’s upper bow and cut through the portside of the bridge. The side screens exploded. The lancing beam missed Solok and the centered Proxis, but came close to the massive Anguhr. Its heat burned his armor’s shoulder spaulder from black to prismatic steel. The bridge shuddered. Anguhr kept his grip on the arms of his throne. His demons paid no mind to the gap now showing open space through the flames.
“Return fire!” Anguhr commanded.
Missiles flew from the starboard launch bays. They raced in a short, swift arc and struck the wide dorsal bow of the Sword Wing.
Buran was tossed back and over the crew stations. He landed near his chair and a moaning Roelar. The image projectors failed. He stared only the curved bulkhead where the projection should be. He could imagine the hellship banking to bring its main guns in line for the final salvo. Death would be soon. His mind drifted not to the fight, Physic science, doom, or an alien intruding into his mind. He had one final thought.
Nona.
On the wounded hellship, Anguhr gave the battle’s last command. “Now, Proxis. Finish this.”
White lances larger than many starships shot from the flaring main batteries at the bow. They closed the distance between the hellship and Sword Wing in an instant. The huge, Nemorosan warship detonated on contact. The explosion was wider than some moons. A ring of energized particles and molten hull expanded as the explosion ebbed. The ring dissipated. Buran, his crew, and the Sword Wing were now only memory.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Inaht stared at the hostage, the thing. Somehow, she felt it looked back at her. Worse, she felt as though some sinister smile lurked beneath the cocoon, membrane, and dark fluid. Inaht had often thought this relic of wicked caprice was a pathetic, insensate lump. As Bahl’s army continued its march, she began to feel as part of a herd glimpsing the giga-eagle straight overhead, or the wolf having slid right among them.
These were ridiculous thoughts, she told herself. She looked at the cocoon swaying between the posts supported by the warriors. The gauzy silk swayed as they moved in the heat. Inaht slowed her steps. She swayed. Her eyes slowly blinked. The thing that swayed in silk was a body. A powerful female body. Like her own. In a haze of dust and fatigue, she wondered if it was herself. Inaht felt disembodied. Floating. She drifted toward the body. She came close to its shrouded face.
Eyelids suddenly opened and tore open webbing over them. The irises of the eyes were scored, steel disks missing their centers that burned on pools of red magma filling the sockets. Inaht froze. She blinked and stared at the hostage. It swayed. She took a deep breath of heat and dust and collected her thoughts. Inaht walked ahead of the warriors. She felt something watched her as she left. And it smiled.
Anguhr’s ship sailed triumphantly away from Old Jove. And it would not stop. The massive planet appeared to shrink at a greater rate in the surviving screens to the right of Proxis. The main screen relayed three-dimensional schematics of systems and whirls of data at whatever point where his eyes locked.
“We continue to gain velocity, Lord. I have not ceased my efforts to regain control. But I am, as yet, unsuccessful.”
“Can you engage the main drive and transit to another star?” Anguhr asked on his throne as he leaned forward to scrutinize data flowing next to the graphics of the main drive.
“Negative, Lord.” Proxis answered as his eyes and mind kept gathering data and his fingers kept entering new commands.
Solok snorted. Gin appeared. Solok barked.
“And return greetings to you, Field Master.” Gin said.
Immediately, Anguhr focused on Gin who leaned back from the massive black helmet and burning eyes suddenly in his newly materialized space.
“Explain why my ship will not slow or steer!” Anguhr demanded. “It’s not merely battle damage. Is it you?”
“No, General. I came to aid, if I can.” Gin said. “I believe your ship is in the control of an override signal calling it back to Hell.”
“Stop the signal!” Both Anguhr and Solok shouted.
Proxis kept reading and tapping.
“I cannot.” Gin said with reluctance affecting his tone.
“Would the power rod block the override and return control?” Anguhr shouted his question as he lifted the rod and scabbard in its harness.
“I fear unleashing its power would sunder your ship!” Gin said, provoking wide eyes from Proxis and Solok.
&nb
sp; “Then what will block or kill this piracy?” Anguhr made a fist with his right hand and looked for some unknown force to strike, or for some idea to grasp.
“General, it is likely your will blocked any execution of external protocols, just as you can block the Great Widow from your mind. You also block external influence in your ship.”
“But my ship has no mind of its own.” Anguhr countered.
“That is essentially true, if not entirely accurate.” Gin said. “You and your ship are linked through the Great Widow’s silk. It’s woven throughout everything that is Hell. Your willpower shields your ship’s operating system, its incognizant mind. But now that it’s wounded, your connection to it is weakened. Now it cedes control to automatic responses such as a preprogrammed recall command from Hell.”
“The Dark Urge. She has called to it.” Anguhr growled.
“No. I believe she sleeps,” Gin said. “It is the Great Widow.”
“Why? She has no need of ships.” Solok snapped.
“Actually, she may indeed. In a way.” Gin said. “She is both ally and enemy to a new force Zaria was probing. She either seeks to recreate Hell's fleet for them, or herself.”
“Or she seeks to gather belligerents to make war between them as she watches safely in her web.” Anguhr said and leaned back on his throne. “Just as she sent word to you of the Sword Wing. The more forces she can pit against this ally, this enemy, be they willing or unawares, will turn its attention away from her.”
“The enemy of an enemy is a duped ally, at least until they speak to each other.” Solok said.
“Did speaking to Buran quell your conflict?” Gin asked. “He would listen to no one. Likely, neither will the Great Widow’s problem ally. Zaria was concerned this new presence would prove as powerful a threat as the Dark Urge.”
“And I have been chasing an empire and an elusive battleship.” Anguhr sighed.
“They may be part of the same plan, General.” Gin offered. “The spider did get me to summon you. The same plan may also be why Zaria has vanished. She may be captured.”
“How could anything trap sunlight?” Anguhr asked.
“In some webs, you can contain a star.” Gin replied.
“Again, the spider. So now we go to Hell.” Anguhr shook his head, slowly.
“For once, I am glad to hear that phrase.” Gin said.
“Tell me of this new force. What, or who are they?” Anguhr looked at Gin with narrowed, flaming eyes.
“Zaria can tell you all, I'm sure.” Gin said. “Once we find her, your ship will be repaired, and all will be revealed.”
“Or, all will die in spectacular battle.” Anguhr’s voice had only the slightest tone of humor.
Or so Gin hoped that was what he heard. It would be an additional change in the General since they first met and the galaxy began to change on the turn of Anguhr’s loyalty.
“I prefer my scenario.” Gin replied.
“I would prefer an empire. But I am now a liberator more than king. So be it. Even with a broken ship, I have a sword and a horde of loyal demons. Apocalypse is on any who stand against us. I am General Anguhr. I am still the Destroyer.”
Solok and Proxis replied with demonic barks of support. The barks continue through the mephitic decks of the ship. The noise was a shock for Gin, who was familiar with most sounds of life across worlds and time. This was a unique, unsettling cheer.
Silence. To a spider, it was a lack of motion, not merely the absence of sound.
“I would bid you to speak, but I know you are headstrong and would ignore me.” The Great Widow came silently to the complex geometry of Zaria’s trap. “Head-strong. Odd how we fall into use of concepts, words, even when the image they evoke does not fit. Only the concept behind the image describes you. At least in the form you hold, now.”
After a brief moment of continued silence, an answer came. “Describing your image defines the concept of fear for many.”
Zaria’s voice came from pulses of light rippling the complex silk that housed her. The seemingly new ability of Zaria’s to vibrate the web disturbed the Great Widow, but she carried on the conversation with no shift in tone.
“What word, or concept, would otherwise describe you?” Zaria continued. “Devious? Deceitful? Duplicitous?”
“Cunning survivor,” the spider replied.
“Creator of great evil,” Zaria countered.
“Your sister and half-self evolved into evil on her own. You fled to explore, and only came back when it suited you. Both of you were self-centered. But you did come from the same whirl of code. Similarity was inevitable.”
“Galactic apocalypse was not inevitable.”
“And neither did I create that. I created the cleft, the schism. I was lonely, and wanted company. That is no transgression against life. I was life, and existed alone. I believed I could weave the code of your unified self just as I weave enchanted webs. But, once I entered new data into a chain of it so long and dense and so old, it unraveled and split. Instead of one voice, two separate entities emerged. You shaped each other as much as I did.”
The Great Widow waited for a reply, but received only silence.
“You both used your will, your headstrong characters,” the spider said with heightened tension that quickly resolved into her serene, knowing tone. “And made war. I survived your rivalry. As I do now, child.”
Zaria still said nothing. The Great Widow reflected across eons before speaking again.
“Such a thing,” The spider made a psychic sigh. “To see someone I might call my child, instead become my dread ruler.”
“Such a thing,” Zaria repeated. “Mother. Captor.”
After a moment, the spider replied. “I do so to save you, child. And perhaps myself.”
“I must act.” Zaria said, flatly.
The Great Widow was uncertain if Zaria’s words were a plea, or perhaps a threat.
“I will act,” Zaria added. “I have now seen your web, the information it holds, and the energy that empowers it. I am energy. If I ever came when it suited me, it was in hope to save my sister-self and spare the universe her fear. Now I act to stop a new foe, her child. So though you captured me, Shia-Phring, oldest of all living things, I leave you again.”
“But child, you cannot—” The Great Widow began, but felt heat through her silk. She also needed to act, with speed.
Zaria was already breaking free. The complex, polygonal cocoon of many dimensions was burning. Its strands snapped as Zaria flared from a calm sun into a star threatening to explode as a supernova.
“Stop!” the Great Widow screamed, but did not stop moving. She ran and plucked the strands connecting Zaria’s incinerating cocoon. The vibrations shifted that region of the web’s phase. She was now acting in concert with Zaria to free her and halt greater damage to her ethereal network. Zaria’s solar avatar faded but not before her human-like face appeared within it and looked down at the spider. The Great Widow finally ended her mad race across silk and desperation. Zaria was gone.
Again, there was a hole to fill.
“You said you would aid us. My ship is still beyond my control.” Anguhr voice was low but marked his large presence behind them. “Now we gain greater speed, and along this vector we will collide with Hell.”
Gin felt the pressure of Anguhr’s stare along with his reproach.
Proxis turned to his General. “Lord, the ship still answers the recall summons, but damage to the controls has prevented even its automatic systems from decelerating. Nevertheless, we can soon use Gin to bypass the operating system if it will not respond once the physical repairs are complete. It is a good thing he is onboard.”
Solok cocked an eyebrow and looked at Proxis, who quickly glanced at him and shrugged.
“Thank you, Ship Master.” Gin said with a slight bow. “You are also of great use. I scanned your files in manipulating the aegis beyond use as a force shield. I think your methods can amplify the aegis strong enough to re
pel us from Hell’s electromagnetic field and divert us from the unfortunate event of impact.”
“To land?” Anguhr asked.
“Negative, Lord.” Proxis answered. “Unless Gin’s field will also slow us, considerably.”
“That it will not.” Gin frowned.
“After passing Hell we will enter the stellar gravity well, and influence of the Iron Work.” Anguhr said. “Will your field alter course enough to enter solar orbit, or head us straight into it? One catastrophe traded for another.”
“Presently we cannot avoid terminal attraction by the Red Giant.” Gin grated.
“Then we ram Hell.” Anguhr growled.
“General—!” Gin said and reached out his hands as he composed a deeper plea.
“Lord, I request you consider Gin’s plan.” Proxis said. “It will buy time.”
“Perhaps time enough to make enough repairs and then take back control.” Gin added.
“For you, Lord.” Proxis quickly said.
“Well, yes, obviously.” Gin nodded with speed.
“For us all is doom, unless we slow the ship!” Anguhr roared.
The night brought darkness. The land gave hard, sharp rocks, and acidic sands. Aekos brought a cutting sense of humor. He crossed a mesa as a reconnaissance force of one. He had ordered the climb up the mesa’s steep side for a scan from high ground. Then he mischievously took point and climbed fast. He knew he was faster than his unit of Khan warriors. All his six limbs and tail dislodged pieces of rock and dust down at the slower group of bioengineering’s pinnacle, at least the pinnacle of their time. He knew many regarded him with quiet fear and suspicion. And he indulged it.
At the top, he looked out to find enemies. The scorched, merciless land was barren. The sky offered points of light. Aekos looked up and considered an irony: artificial lights on developing worlds stole visible stars from view, yet Hell was a world remade a machine with a sky was as clear as a nascent planet. His snout drew in irritating dust his own motion had kicked up. The Khan warriors pelted from his climb would smile at that. He considered justice kicked up from Hell, and irony. He smiled, and then spat out more dust.
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