Ejection Strike
Part Three
The signal was unexpected, but it had everyone's attention the moment they picked it up. The Nemesis had revealed itself. And it was at the prison war-nest.
"We can't ignore this," Bazz insisted. "With or without the Horde, the Nemesis is a great threat to us. If we have a chance to finally hunt it down, we have to do it."
"But that place is too dangerous to take on in direct combat," Orron objected. "And we can't resort to the thermetic cascade, because the place has energy shielding of its own. There's no good way to go about this."
"There probably isn't," Bazz agreed, "but we have to try." He looked at them seriously. "One last ejection strike."
"Are we sending most of our fleet?" Parrik asked resignedly.
"I will go myself," Spiass suddenly said from above them.
All three of them, and indeed, most of their people, stared upward in shock. "What?!"
"It isn't enough to simply destroy the Nemesis itself," she pointed out. "It has already begun to build a new force of its own. We need to find and completely burn that nest as well. I can extract the knowledge of its location from the Nemesis itself by force. None of you can do this. Nor can you easily bring it back as a prisoner: it's too large for that. I must do this myself."
"We should still send the fleet. You can't do this alone," Parrik insisted.
"No, I will not go alone. But this is a mission of great danger, and there is no guarantee of safe return- even if we succeed in our goal. I ask for the help only of those who are prepared to die for this, if necessary. All others, stay here and stay alert. We don't dare leave Homeship unguarded, either."
"No, you're right. But," Orron said anxiously, "if something happened to you, the Drill would shut down. There's still over a sub-cycle until we're done here."
"I know. If I do perish, it had best not be before that." Spiass activated her personal armor, and waited as it folded around her. It was custom-made, of course, intended in case of extreme circumstances they couldn't even imagine. Now, it seemed, those were upon them.
"We would rather that you didn't perish at all," Parrik said softly. "We don't always give it enough credit, but you're a part of us."
Spiass sighed and closed her eyes. "You have everyone in Homeship, our entire civilization, to look after, but that is as far as your experience extends. You know that there are others out there, but only academically. I hear the other civilizations. All Dreamers are in contact with each other, always, and all of us listen to those we share our Home with, and share the tales of their lives with each other. My view covers our entire species. That species itself is at risk. This is greater than the Home you know, and certainly greater than my individual life. This is what it means to be a Dreamer." She opened her eyes and looked determinedly in the direction of the prison. "Even if it takes my sacrifice, if it saves our people from the threat of the Nemesis forever, it will be worth it."
After a moment, she heard the replies of a number of the Striker pilots: "We'll support you."
And from the prison itself, from Payash: "We've longed to see our enemies here destroyed. So much the better if we can have a part in that with our own hands. You asked for those willing to lay down their lives. When you come, free us if you can, and my companions and I gladly offer ours."
For once in his life, Cuura looked worried. "You're really determined to be a part of this?"
"Of course I am. Tangling with one attack and destroying that authority nexus were great fun, but why stop there?" Cuuma wasn't worried at all, but then, if one had to try to pick the sensible one of the two, they wouldn't pick him.
"I wouldn't argue against fun, but a suicide mission?"
"Possible suicide mission. We might make it back just fine."
"We might find plenty of action right here. It's still considered a possibility that the Horde will attack again. They could be waiting for us to divert most of our forces there."
"And that's why you're staying, huh? No," he added, as Cuura started to correct him, "I know that's not why. You're staying because Tahaim would be shattered if you didn't come back. Spiass asked for only those prepared to die on this, and you don't qualify." He shrugged. "It's fine. That's why you have me to fill in."
"Last I checked, you didn't want to die either," Cuura pointed out.
"No, I don't want to, but if it best serves the survival of our people - or more, our entire species - I'll take that risk. I'm not the one with someone waiting for me here."
"You are this time. I'm waiting for you here," Cuura reminded him quietly.
"Huh, good point. I guess I'll just have to make sure I make it through alive then, right? I hope they do attack here as well, so you won't feel left out." He actually meant that.
"I could probably use the diversion." Cuura sighed. "May the shadow of the world that birthed our people keep you safe on this one."
Although it wasn't a commonly needed feature, the Pavilion could detach from the rest of Homeship. It could fly - and fight - on its own. Spiass detached it now, and set off for the prison. An impressively large number of Strikers accompanied her. As the distance passed, Spiass busied herself at her console. She had a copy of the program that Mitarrid had come up with, to produce a shield anywhere within range on demand, and she had an idea for adapting it to her own purpose now. She had a feeling she was going to need every advantage she could get.
Mitarrid watched the display as it tracked the progress of the Pavilion and its accompanying fleet. "Do you think they can really pull this off?" she asked Shillah, the Monitor next to her.
"I want to think so, but I don't know," Shillah answered. "Any kind of complication could come up. The Nemesis' signal has disappeared again. What if it isn't there anymore?"
"Its signal may have vanished, but there's been no movement in or out of that war-nest since then," Mitarrid pointed out. "It shouldn't have gone anywhere. It's just fallen silent again."
"You think they'll actually find it?"
"I should hope. I'm more worried what it takes to do it. The Horde could well have set a trap or- What the…?" As at that moment, a Hordeling strode out into view right in the middle of the Lesser Floor, just below where their Station overlooked.
"I knew they'd missed some from the clean-up before," Shillah muttered. She and Mitarrid looked at each other.
"They were too well hidden, but that one isn't hiding now. It's trying to get our attention. Do you think it's a challenge, or a diversion?"
"Diversion. There are at least several more nearby, and they're anxious to accomplish something."
"Well, we'd better stop them." The rest of Monitors were gathering forward to stare as well. Mitarrid hit a button to blare an alert, even as she called out, "We've got leftover Hordeling intruders here!"
"We'll get them," she heard Jengre answer, echoed by several other such sentiments. They'd already known that there might be more of them, and Jengre and his comrades were still wearing their armor, just in case. They quickly ran in, armed with Handlances. The one Hordeling that had shown itself ran, but it wasn't the only one they'd spotted. "They're going for the Strikers!"
"Stop them… no, too late," Mitarrid muttered in disgust, and many of the Hordelings, despite the attempts to shoot them, disappeared inside a handful of standby Strikers.
"Do you think they can figure out how to use them?" Shillah asked. They had their answer a moment later, as their readouts reported the Strikers' systems powering up.
"They say that those who came to this planet before us had designed all their craft so they couldn't be operated by any vermin, that the system scanned for a legitimate pilot before responding. Right now, I wish we had that tech."
"It wouldn't matter, would it? They also say that the Horde bypassed it somehow, and that's how they got at their Homeship."
"I know, but I strongly suspect that it took them some time and tinkering to do it. I'm sure they couldn't have just grabbed and used any Striker they came across."
By now, a number of their own pilots were flying in their direction to deal with this. "Back off," Cuura called to Jengre and the others. "This is a matter for the air now."
"None of them are in the air yet," one of the Inspectors objected. He cut off with a cry as one of those hijacked Strikers opened fire, gunning him down. At almost the same time, it shot forward at floor level, slamming into several of the others and sending them flying.
Jengre, who was one of those hit, shook his head as he started to get up. It hadn't really hurt, thanks to the armor, but he was inclined to think that Cuura was right: it was time to let the other pilots handle this.
On the other hand, at least one Hordeling was still on foot, and right in front of him. He suspected it was the same one that Mitarrid had first seen. Jengre tensed to attack. Rather than run, the Hordeling lunged at him and tried to punch him in the face. Jengre faintly heard the blow thud off his armor.
The futility of the action must have occurred to the Hordeling, because it certainly turned and ran now. Jengre went after it. He'd dropped his Handlance when the Striker slammed into him, but he quickly scooped it up again, and leveled it for a shot.
Suddenly, one of the hijacked Strikers glided up right in front of them. Jengre tried to turn and leap out of the way, but it was too late. The Striker opened fire. There was no chance to escape.
Mitarrid flinched as she watched - and felt - Jengre's death. They hadn't been that close, but she'd known him for a long time. Dazedly, she watched as the Hordelings fled in their stolen Strikers, and as their own pilots swooped in to try and stop them. She heard Shillah next to her, reporting that there were two Hordelings in each of the Strikers they'd taken.
"The second manning the back-up weapon controls in each case, I suppose?" Cuura responded. "What, Hordelings can't fly and shoot at the same time?" He and the other pilots pursued the hijacked Strikers, but the Hordelings were clearly trying to escape back toward the nearby Gate. Forcing herself to shake off her distraction, Mitarrid keyed in the command for the system to close the hard-doors.
Cuura was pleasantly surprised when not all the Hordelings concentrated solely on escaping. Some of them, it seemed, preferred to turn and fight. The hard-doors closed slowly, so there was still time for them to flee, but they didn't yet.
They really were challenging combatants. They proved amazingly difficult to shoot down, and they were starting to shoot down some of the Arretchi pilots in turn. Cuura suspected that not all of his companions were up to this challenge. "Anyone who knows they're outmatched, pull out," he called. "This will take the best of us."
"Too late," one of the others answered. "They're fleeing now." Indeed, now the remaining Hordelings were racing for the narrowing gap between the closing hard-doors. Cuura led a handful of his people in trying to catch them, but it was too late. The two remaining Hordeling-piloted Strikers slipped out at the last possible moment, as the hard-doors closed, and Cuura's and the others' shot impacted futilely against them. Cuura and the others pulled up and circled around.
"Can we reopen the doors and go after them?" someone asked.
"Don't bother. They'll be long gone by the time we can get out there," Cuura answered. "Are they heading for the prison?"
The Monitors confirmed that. "Two Horde-hijacked Strikers, flying directly for the prison, and therefore on the tails of Spiass and her escort."
"Coming your way, then, Cuuma," Cuura called.
"I guess I should thank you for the gift, then," he answered. "You had your fun first, I'll have mine last."
A more formal warning had already been sent to Spiass and the others to watch out for this. "That's all we can do at this point," Parrik commented unhappily.
"It is," Orron grimly agreed. "Wait for Spiass to succeed or fail, and wait for the Drill to finish its work. We're only watching and waiting now."
The war-nest prison came into view ahead, and Spiass studied it, and the readouts from her console, carefully. The signal from the Nemesis had disappeared some time ago, but as they had noted, there had been no coming or going from this place since then. It was a large, strong-looking structure, and visibly well-armed with weapons and a large number of Hordelings waiting for battle. However, the energy shielding had been taken down.
"That's not a good sign. They seek to lure us into some kind of trap," Spiass observed.
"Let them try, and we'll see how good their trap is." That was Cuuma.
"No, we won't make it that easy for them. Attack their outer defenses, do what damage you can, but don't try for the structure itself. There's a better way to handle this."
The fleet began its attack. The Horde fired its own thermetic cascades at the Pavilion. It was useless, of course, and she ignored it. On the other hand, several Strikers that intercepted Pulses were destroyed by them. That shouldn't have happened. Had they altered the tech somehow? Spiass forced herself to concentrate on her own task.
She could feel the prisoners inside, waiting for a chance, and through them, could see the layout of the prison cells. Their location was easy enough to pinpoint. As she brought the Pavilion within close firing range of the structure, she strategically aimed several beams. They were the carrier beams from the thermetic cascade, but that wasn't their intended use now. Instead of the usual Pulse, Spiass released a small force-burst along each one. They blew small chunks out of the prison without damaging the rest of the structure- and caused just enough damage to breach several of the cells.
The prisoners in those cells, including Payash, began pushing aside the rubble and working themselves free. "Our captors seem too preoccupied to notice us," he observed. "We can free the rest, and then, if the Nemesis is here, we'll find it."
"Wait." Spiass looked back at her console as it beeped softly. "I've got its signal again. It's active, outside the structure, and moving." She quickly located the source: a sturdy but minimally-armed Horde craft, with a number of their defense craft flying an escort around it. They were fleeing the prison, and quickly. "They're trying to escape us now," Spiass said, "or so it appears. Free your comrades," she told the prisoners, "and do what damage you can to them from the inside, or seek freedom if you can." To the pilots, she called, "Some of you, with me. We have to catch them. The rest, continue to keep their main defenses busy." She set the Pavilion off in pursuit of the fleeing craft.
As her accompanying Strikers tangled with the Horde defenders, Spiass focused on the central craft. Suddenly, its defenders scattered and fled. "Don't follow," she ordered. "They're probably trying to lure you away." She wasn't sure that was the only reason for their disappearance, though. It seemed like they were getting out of the way. There was a trap of some kind in the making.
She turned her attention back to the main craft. A single defender had reappeared to pace it. Inside the craft itself, she sensed a single, determined Hordeling presence. In fact, there was something odd about it, if she concentrated.
This, she realized, was one of those that Payash had told her about, the ones that had been left sensitive to the Arretchi's own voices after one of them had torn into its mind. She could feel the imprint on it, if she looked closely enough. They'd said that such creatures were useless to them, that they still couldn't be understood in turn. Spiass wondered if she could do better. It was worth attempting, if she could learn what kind of trap they were planning. She reached out and tried.
It didn't work. She could feel the thing's mind flinching in response to her touch, but she couldn't read anything from it, except that it was communicating with the pilot of the defending craft, and a vague sense of determination to accomplish whatever it was trying to do. She'd heard that much anyway. Payash was right, deliberately touching the minds of the Horde was a useless endeavor.
Suddenly, both craft raced straight for the bottom of the Pavilion. The Strikers tried to intercept them, but the Hordeling defender destroyed several of them. Then the main craft flew straight in through the port on the Pavilion's underside. Spiass tensed. They wouldn't offer the Nemesis as a gift, surely. What kind of trick was this?
Just then, the system picked up the activation of energy shielding, all around the Pavilion's current location. A summoned shield? No, she realized, a rerouted one. This was where the shielding from the prison itself had gone. It was slowly spreading to surround her and all the craft immediately nearby. She called to the Striker pilots, "Get clear. Whatever the nature of this trap, don't get caught in it! I have a better chance to survive than you." They scattered, several of them pursuing the remaining defender, which was also fleeing. The Hordeling narrowly slipped out, but the Strikers failed to get out in time, and fatally crashed against the shielding. Spiass shuddered at the feel of their deaths. They'd been taking casualties slowly since this battle began, but that didn't make it any easier.
She started to coast the Pavilion to a stop, while cautiously waiting for the next move of the Hordeling craft that had entered. At this point, she had a strong suspicion that a suicide attack was in the making. Were they about to sacrifice the Nemesis for that as well? The Pavilion rocked as it impacted the shielding trap outside. It hadn't stopped quickly enough. Spiass staggered briefly before regaining her balance.
She turned her attention back to the Horde craft, and her eyes widened in surprise. This close, she couldn't have missed the presence of the Nemesis, especially as her system still picked up an active signal. She was pretty sure she could have sensed it at this range even if it were hiding within itself. It wasn't in there. The Hordeling was alone, preparing its attack, preparing for its own death, if she read it right, and savoring the belief that it was about to win. The signal had been false, another Hordeling decoy.
Recalling what they'd tried before, Spiass had a good idea what was to come. Luckily, she'd taken personal precautions. The new shielding program had been adapted and applied to her armor, giving her personal protection on the level of any craft or ship. Indeed, as she'd expected, the Horde craft detonated in a flareburst. It tore the Pavilion apart from the inside out, but Spiass survived unscathed.
She felt her people's consternation at the destruction of the Pavilion, although they didn't have to fear for her. They could all tell that she was all right. She could also feel a wash of triumph from the Horde. Clearly, the creatures believed her to be dead.
"Take advantage of their distraction," she urged the pilots. "Take out their defenses." They fiercely went to it, and she could hear Cuuma laughing in triumph as he destroyed one of the Horde's cascades. To those inside, she asked, "Can you find where the Nemesis actually is? Or at least learn if it's truly there?"
Inside, the first prisoners to get free had gotten their companions out as well, and they were now starting to spread out through the hallways of the place, looking for Hordelings to take payback on. "We'll look," Payash assured Spiass. He turned to his fellows. "Don't spread too far. Our best strength is in numbers."
"And surprise," someone added.
He acknowledged that. "We'd better make use of both. I suggest we break into two groups, no more, and search this place for whatever we can find. And any vermin we run into, jump them and tear them apart. For our people, and all we've been through. And for Burree," he finished grimly. The others heartily agreed.
Meanwhile, Spiass adjusted her armor's shielding to double-strength and climbed out of the wreckage of the Pavilion. She'd given it a few moments, so as not to reveal the Horde's failure to them so quickly, but now their triumph was fading anyway, so something had probably tipped them off. Emerging, she looked around. The surrounding energy shielding was down, and nearby was what looked like the controls for it, attended by a group of Hordelings.
She could pick out one among them that was clearly their head. Destroying that one would probably cripple them somewhat. Even as she started toward them, they all scuttled inside something behind them, some land vehicle, which was soon racing across the ground. She vaguely recalled seeing that thing arrive earlier, while she'd been chasing their decoy craft. So, they'd arranged a quick escape then. Perhaps they weren't so confident, after all. The land vehicle was fast, but small, and given how much larger she was, she could probably out-distance and catch it. She had a custom-sized Handlance, and could try to shoot it from here, too, but with no experience, she doubted she'd hit it at this range. She chased after it.
Inside, Payash and the others had killed a number of vermin, and rearmed themselves with Handlances taken from their fallen enemies. It was clear that their escape had been noticed by now. Groups of vermin fighters had tried to intercept them, and they knew more would be coming.
"They're onto us, but that could actually be useful," Payash noted. "Listen. They're trying to protect something, something they're afraid we'll find. Let's head to this place that has their attention and find out what."
"There are closed doors in the way, blocking that direction. I think they're closing everything in the way."
"They open with a touch-panel; we've seen them use it. Here."
"It doesn't react to our touch."
"Not surprising." Payash shrugged. "The next vermin we kill, we'll borrow their hands afterward and see if that works."
Outside, a number of Horde craft had flown in to attack Spiass directly. She could have caught that land vehicle, but every time she was about to, it seemed she was attacked again from the air, and had to deal with that. The double shielding protected her even from their piercing-level shots, but that wouldn't last forever. She fought them off as best she could, managing to shoot some down, swatting others away with her tentacles. Then she resumed her pursuit.
More Horde craft swept in, firing on her repeatedly. This attack felt more furious than the one before. She downed them as best she could, but there was still one left, shooting fiercing. Spiass flinched as she felt the shielding overload and fail. She lashed out with a tentacle, and though it was a glancing blow, it connected, sending the craft toward the ground in flames. It had gotten off many more shots at her in the moment before she downed it, but her armor had absorbed them, taking minor damage in the process. It wouldn't have absorbed many more.
To her surprise, the Hordeling inside shot out of the doomed craft as if thrown, flying into the air. It extended some kind of sheet, and catching the air with it, broke its own fall as it dropped to the ground. Were the Horde craft designed to allow for that? Spiass reflected that they should take that idea for themselves. An instant exit from a damaged craft might prove very useful in a number of situations.
However, that Hordeling was still alive, and it felt like a particularly dangerous one. The land vehicle had pulled ahead again, but Spiass turned to finish off her attacker first.
At that point, the two hijacked Strikers appeared on the scene. There was no mistaking them, for she could feel the alien presences within- even had they not immediately attacked her. She tried to swat at them, but they were too nimble. They focused their attacks on her Handlance first, soon destroying it, and she tried to shield the damaged part on the front of her armor as they turned their shots on her.
Just then, Payash called to her. "We've found it! The Nemesis is here!" Spiass whirled toward the prison. Yes, she could see it through their eyes: the Nemesis itself, withdrawn and silent, with two terrified Hordeling guards, now with nothing but a single transparent wall between them and Payash's group. She could feel exactly where in the structure they were.
As Spiass hurried toward the prison structure, she called out to the pilots. "Gather close. Whatever still stands between us and our goal, I need you to help get through it."
"We can probably shield you from just about anything, if we fly densely enough," Cuuma mused. "The problem is, crowding in that close is asking for mishaps. Not everyone has the kind of flying skill to pull off such a formation."
Spiass hesitated. "I can take control of the Strikers' systems myself. There will be no doubt of a perfect formation then. Unfortunately, I can't concentrate on shooting all of them. You'd basically be nothing but a shield. And there's a further risk. If anything did happen to me, they'd all end up off-line. The systems would be overloaded. Even if all goes well, none of them will fly again without recalibration."
"If all goes well, we'll be done here anyway, right? We can afford it. And if not… well, we didn't come here to play it safe. As to the rest, remember, we're all here because we're willing to pay the price. If you think that's the best way to get through, do it!"
"Very well." Even as she ran toward the prison, Spiass stretched out her will, and seized control of the Strikers. She pulled them into a tight but coordinated spiral around herself, a living shield against any attacks that might come. She lost a few to stray attacks as she went, but at this rate, losses should be minimal. The outer defenses of the prison were in shambles by now, and whatever lay within might not matter if she was quick enough.
As an added boon, the hijacked Strikers had fallen under her control as well. The Hordelings within would be unable to do anything now that the systems no longer responded to their control. Once they got back to Homeship, and she could relinquish her own control of them, they'd have to make sure that those creatures were properly disposed of.
Inside, Payash and his companions sought to secure their access to the Nemesis. Spiass suggested it might not be necessary at this stage, but they were determined to do whatever they could. They opened fire, shattering the last wall and trying to kill the guards, although those two dove to the floor in an attempt to dodge. Payash thought he heard a flash of pain from at least one of them.
Suddenly, his own group was opened fire on, from behind. They'd known there were more of the vermin about, hunting them, but again, they'd underestimated how quickly they could move. They all went down in a rain of shots.
As Payash lay, near death, he could hear Spiass's distress. "It's all right," he assured her. "To go down fighting was more than we dared hope for, for a long time. You gave us that much." He angled his head slightly. He could see one of the vermin standing right nearby, Handlance in hand, giving off an annoying sense of pride. Gathering the last of his strength, Payash focused on one of his bio-tentacles, snaking it forward. It grabbed the leg of the annoying vermin, and Payash had the pleasure of feeling its pride collapse into fear. Then something severed the tentacle. Payash barely had time to register the backlash shock, when his back exploded in pain, and then he felt nothing.
Spiass felt the other group of freed prisoners inside heading for the same location. Again, she told them that they didn't have to do this, but they, too, preferred to fight to the end than run and do nothing. Spiass listened to them make a last charge on the Nemesis and those who guarded it, and listened to them die as well.
Suddenly, the two Hordeling-hijacked Strikers shot forward, slamming through a number of the others before shooting straight up into the air. The Hordelings had managed to manually activate the boost engines. Spiass let them go. She could feel their triumph at their escape, but it didn't matter. Even if those Strikers didn't crash to ground hard enough to kill them, they would never fly again. It didn't matter what happened to them now.
She had reached the prison structure itself, and stood right outside the place where the Arretchi inside had fallen. She smashed through the wall with sheer force. The Nemesis lay before her, and the Hordelings around it were caught off guard by her entrance. She swiftly reached in and snatched up her target, but she couldn't help her gaze straying to the numerous Arretchi corpses that lay nearby.
"They didn't die in vain," Parrik suggested, from Homeship. "If they'd had a chance, the Horde might have moved the Nemesis elsewhere in there once it was found, and you wouldn't know where. They made sure that the Horde was too busy fighting to do it."
Spiass nodded slightly in ackowledgement, as she turned to flee from the prison. The Nemesis' artificial body was in her hand, and time enough to wrest information from it when they were safe. Now, she only sought to get herself and her people out of here.
She never thought that the hijacked Strikers could still be an issue. Not until they shot straight back down, riding gravity, and opened fire on her with full force. Their shots tore into her back, and with a cry, Spiass stumbled. She tried to force herself to run, but they fired on her one more time, and she fell to her knees. She dimly noticed those Strikers crash hard to the ground nearby, but the damage was done. She knew she was dying.
"I'm sorry." Opening and trying to drag herself from the now unresponsive armor, Spiass spoke to her people one last time. "I've failed. The Drill…" She knew from the heads on Homeship, the Drill was nearly a mini-cycle from reaching the planet's core. She wouldn't last that long. "I'm sorry," she said again. "Those who accompanied me here, there's no getting out now. The self-destruct is on a separate system, and I haven't touched that one. If you would sooner die than face capture, you have that choice. Homeship, go. There's nothing more you can hope to do here. Don't fight or die in vain. Go. Live on…" Her voice faded, and the Dreamer was no more. The Nemesis slipped from her limp hand.
With the loss of her influence on the systems, the Strikers stopped working, and began drifting helplessly toward the ground. The pilots could no longer hear Homeship, but they could still talk with each other. "What do you think?" Cuuma asked the others. "I, for one, would rather go out on my own terms than let the Horde decide our fate. Unless we think there's anything else we can accomplish here."
"We could get out and fight. We could still kill many of them. We could still kill the Nemesis."
"No," someone else objected. "She was right, we need the location of its nest first. Others might come and succeed where our mission failed, but not if it and its knowledge are destroyed."
"And killing a handful more of Hordelings won't make enough difference in the long run, not enough to justify the risk of ending up their prisoners," someone else insisted.
Cuuma nodded to himself. "I guess that settles that. Our lives, our terms!" He aimed his last words at Cuura, back on Homeship, although he knew that he couldn't hear. "Sorry. I'm not coming back after all. At least I won't leave you uncertain about my fate. Fight on for me." Just as he felt the Striker settle to the ground, he keyed in the self-destruct. He knew he wasn't the only one.
Cuura had felt the connection with Cuuma fade when Spiass died, but waited anyway, as if expecting it to return. Now, he felt the only contact that could still reach: the sensation of his death. As Cuura bowed his head and closed his eyes in grief, he felt Tahaim's arms close around him, and her offer of whatever comfort she could give.
"I know he had no chance of making it back," he whispered. "I know he'd probably face a worse fate if he survived. But…"
"But right now, it doesn't make it better."
"No."
Bazz, Parrik, and Orron looked at each numbly. The Drill had shut down the moment it lost Spiass's life-signature, and the core of this world was out of their reach. "So that's it? Is there nothing we can do now?"
"Nothing but do what she said and get out of here," Parrik answered Orron.
"This may have been our one chance to stop them. Could we afford to lose it?" Bazz asked.
"We've already lost this chance," Parrik pointed out. "Coring the planet failed, and we already know we can't beat them in straight combat. We'd be decimated if we tried, and that's exactly what she didn't want to happen. We have to leave, now, before they launch another attack against us."
After a moment, the other two nodded slowly. "You're right."
"Our energy is still depleted," Orron reminded them. "That will be a problem sooner rather than later, I fear."
"I fear we'll have many problems sooner rather than later," Parrik answered soberly.
Soon, Homeship was pulling away from the planet. As they headed back for the shelter of the Void, gloom and loss dominated both the Thoughtsea and the minds of those who remained outside it.
Cuura still clung to Tahaim, and wished she were enough to make up for the new empty space in his existence.
Mitarrid soberly watched her readouts, and reflected that Jengre's usual optimism would have been very welcome right now.
Greel slowly pieced together another gem-sculpture, but it depicted only despair.
Parrik listened to the voices around her as she stared out at the stars. What had happened was bad, but it was just the beginning. The Nemesis and the Horde were united now. She knew there would be far worse to come.