16/12/2017
Thank you to Pax Humana and Daisy Duck 39 for beta-ing.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are the greatest!
Part 3 The Trigger
Chapter 35: I Imagine It Will Stay Dead This Time
-cfr-
Year 47,023 CE - 44,796 years after Human Ascension (3,154 years after the capture of the Warrior Prophet)
Command Deck, Cypiene Navy Ship, Vindicator
Sector Commander Orla sat on the command deck of the CNS Vindicator. It had been a conscious choice, both for the fact that here she would receive all incoming information first, and because she did not have to deal with the Enlightened.
"Ninety percent of the fleet have reported in. All systems normal," Uresten, the Vindicator's XO reported. "No capital ship losses," he added.
Orla snorted to herself. Ninety percent was very good, given this Relay's reputation. The Wilms had sent expeditions through, only for all ships to be lost. Of course, the Wilms probably left their transit calculations in the hands of the Enlightened. Given the quality of the species the Wilms uplifted, there was no wonder they lose hundreds of ships. But then, they breed fast, so it was understandable that they died fast. Not as fast as the Ostberg but they hadn't been a player since the Gotti took over.
The Cypiene were more selective about what they uplifted. And no enlightened was able to crew a Cypiene ship until they were at least as skilled as a Cypiene tech. Of course, they were never acknowledged as such, and as much as Orla didn't want to admit it, they needed the Enlightened. They couldn't keep up with the Yoxall, Darmaris, Gotti and Wilms otherwise.
Orla suppressed a growl. The Cypiene were selective, the others didn't care. To them, the Enlightened were merely bodies to throw at the enemy. Their uplifted were all kept strictly controlled but loyal. Most didn't even recognise the controls, or if they did, saw them as what needed to be. They could no longer think for themselves, either as individuals or as species. Already there had been incursions.
Originally, this attack had been thought to be from the Darmaris. She'd wasted valuable time chasing down those leads before a chance recording had shown the truth. The attackers were unknown. They matched no major empire nor any Enlightened species and no one would have given such advanced tech to a completely new species. This was confirmed by their path of retreat. While it was towards the Darmaris territory, they passed straight through large areas of disputed territory and then they had moved towards the galactic core.
Orla had rallied all her forces. It didn't matter what they were, they would not steal her Sector Son and get away with it. She had raised Gvar from birth, lovingly teaching him everything she knew, just as he would teach his successor. She was his mother in every way that counted, and no pathetic unknown alien species was going to steal him away, not when she'd just sent him out to govern his first colony. Not when failure meant she would have to cede her territory to the Eacar! Her clan would never bow to them!
"There's a huge debris field! Anything could be in there!" Uresten reported.
"Send probes," the Captain ordered. Aoumov was a good Cypiene.
Solid, which was why Orla had selected her for this mission. Not much would surprise Aoumov, and Orla needed that quality now. Nothing could be left to chance with retrieving her Sector Son. These… whatever they were, knew enough to kidnap him. Discreet inquiries with those Orla would rather not think about had revealed an ongoing interest. Whatever they were, they knew enough to get around the guards, they knew who Gvar was, so they knew enough. Enough to remain hidden. Enough to understand the single warning she'd provide. If this new species didn't heed it, there would be no mercy.
"By the gods! It's full of ships!"
"Ships?" Orla had been lost in her thoughts but she was aware enough to question that. There should be no ships here except those they were chasing.
"Yes, Ma'am!" Accompanying the reply were images and the view screen changed every second or so, displaying ship after ship. Orla didn't recognise any.
"These designs are unknown," Uresten confirmed. Some were huge, according to the accompanying information, fully 2 km long, much larger than the Cypiene's largest battlecruiser. Far larger than her own ship, which was still advanced, but like all ships didn't have the output of one of the huge stationary weapon platforms that all the species favoured where possible. Other ships were quite small. All appeared derelict, the damage obvious and gaping. There was lots of small debris within the field.
"Confirm that they are inactive and tag their locations. We can scan them after we fulfil our objective," Aoumov ordered.
Orla nodded to herself. The main mission must continue. Retrieving Gvar was the first priority but the fact that Aoumov thought about what tech could be gained for the Empire spoke well of her abilities. With skills like that, and her clean bloodline, she would not languish as a Captain for long.
Besides, they had their own tech. They had to! That cursed Warrior Prophet! Three and a half thousand years on and the Darmaris still proclaimed their loyalty to him. Orla forced herself to calm. For the Darmaris, he had been a Warrior Prophet. For the Cypiene, he had been a portent of disaster! Those had been dark times for the Cypiene Empire. While the so called Warrior Prophet had literally given the Darmaris scum tech, the Cypiene people had sacrificed and struggled and built, always playing catch up in the arms race. They had developed their own weapons but also reverse engineered everything they could retrieve.
After the assassination, where the Darmaris had the gall to claim that they were innocent, the Cypiene Empire had emerged stronger, more united. Their tech was better and always different. It was only now, at this end of history, could the Cypiene show any degree of gratitude towards the Warrior Prophet. Though some were going too far. They had the gall to claim that all species should come together, to follow the teachings of the Warrior Prophet and heed the warnings from the Beacons.
Thankfully, those idiots were on the fringes of society. They didn't know the depths of depravity the Gotti would sink to. They could only co-operate when all acknowledged Cypiene superiority.
There was only one point upon which the major powers cooperated. In the Serpent Nebula, they all maintained weapon platforms. It was not because of warnings from the beacons or the Warrior Prophet but because they couldn't allow anyone to take the tech on the huge space station. No one would be allowed to take it so the weapon platforms remained, discreetly being updated all the time. The platforms were hugely powerful but barely moveable. However, one would be useful now.
"We have a path mapped through the debris," Uresten reported.
"Continue scanning," Aoumov reported. "We'll advance when we find the ships."
Besides, Orla wasn't sure she believed the beacons. Where the hell did these supposed killer ships go for fifty thousand years? That just didn't make sense. The galaxy was huge but they were mapping more territory every day. There was nowhere for a rogue fleet to hide. The message had too many unanswered questions for it to be real.
Privately, she thought it might be the work of the Yoxall. They were the first space faring race, predating the Cypiene by three hundred years. They were known mostly for being peaceful and what better way to maintain the peace than by playing on fear. A message from an extinct species, urging them all to work together against some super race? While it did encourage the development of weapons, it was development for a common cause. It would not lead to anyone fighting the Yoxall, or anyone else if they were all waiting for this enemy. An enemy that may never come.
If it was the Yoxall, it was masterful. And having their Emperor present in person at the assassination just meant that suspicion never fell upon them.
"Heat source detected!"
"Adjust heading," Aoumov ordered immediately as Orla brought her attention fully to the present. The screen altered showing a long distance view before it zoomed in.
There it was!
Orla glared at the ship. It was huge and nothing like anything she knew. It looked like it was composed of rock with metal fused into it. It was ugly but it was the same design they had been chasing. It was hanging over a massive rock and while the shuttles couldn't be seen, the small flashes of light as they travelled between the unknown ship and what was obviously their base could be seen on the screen.
However, another object hung near the unknown ship.
"What's that other thing?"
It was black against space and just as large as the unknown ship. It was also of an unknown design and it was turning towards them. Huge legs uncurled from beneath it and the tail flattened. It was like some sort of primitive sea creature and Orla felt a shiver as she looked into its unblinking eyes.
"Unknown," Uresten said.
"If it fires on us, destroy it!" Orla snapped. She was only interested in the original ship. The one that had stolen Gvar from her.
Whatever this race was, it was time they learned their place!
-cfr-
"Open comms. Give the primitives a chance to hand over Sector Son Gvar," Aoumov ordered, turning towards her comm techs.
They complied flawlessly, as expected of Cypiene, indicating once every frequency was open. "To the Unknown vessels, you have kidnapped citizens of the Cypiene. Heave to and prepare to be boarded. Any further act of aggression shall be considered an act of war and shall incur the wrath of the Empire."
The entire crew held its breath. They weren't sure what they were expecting from the unknown aliens. They hadn't been expecting attack but these barbarians didn't seem to acknowledge their sovereign territory.
Nor did they answer now. The ships were moving, turning to face the Cypiene fleet but, as the minutes dragged on, the techs became more and more agitated.
"Well?" Sector Commander Orla demanded.
Another minute crawled by as the techs checked the readings. Finally, one turned towards Captain Aoumov, raising one hand to indicate that they had heard nothing.
"The ships are not responding, Commander," Aoumov reported formally, knowing that Orla had already seen.
"Fire a warning shot," came the instant instruction.
After receiving permission from Aoumov, the weapons techs were quick to respond and a purple beam lanced through space. It curved slightly.
"What's that?" Orla demanded.
"Deflection," Uresten replied. "We are close to the black hole." They were very close to the black hole and Orla realised then how good having ninety percent of her fleet survive transition was. Through an unknown Relay, losses were acceptable. Thought this Relay, it was clearer now why the Wilms had lost entire expeditions.
"We can adjust aim?"
"Correcting now," Aoumov reported for the weapons techs as they worked at their consoles.
"Incoming fire!"
The screen shifted to highlight the second unknown ship. Its legs were raised and a solid red beam was coming from beneath it. A horde of smaller ships were beginning to appear, launching from both of the larger vessels. Several subscreens focused on them and as the visuals came in, Orla realised that despite the extreme difference in design of the larger ships, they were in collusion with each other. The smaller vessels were identical.
"Return fire!" Aoumov ordered. "And close comms!"
The Cypiene always faced accusations from the other Empires that they never accepted surrender, simply because their comms were closed, but after the Darmaris had used the open comm frequency to attempt electronic warfare, it became standard policy for all external comms to be closed. Communication between the fleet relied on tight band, laser signal. It was discreet and efficient.
The red beam from the huge black ship faded and it shifted slightly. "The Maldov reports shield failure!"
Orla wasn't completely versed in warfare but the grim expression on Uresten's face told her everything she needed to know. The attacking ship was powerful.
"Tell them to fall back, but to continue firing," Aoumov snapped. "Fire missiles."
"The calibrations aren't adjusted!" There was an objection.
"Fire them anyway!" This was not the time for worrying. "Their targeting systems will compensate!" There was a thump as the missiles launched and powered across the void towards the unknown ships.
The huge black ship lifted one leg and the red beam once again lanced out through space. It was joined by a yellow beam from the other ship.
"What are they firing?" one of the weapon's techs muttered. Usually, it wouldn't have been audible but in the heightened state of awareness combat brought, the entire bridge crew heard. The tech went silent, before they spoke again. "Spectrum analysis doesn't match anything we know."
A side screen showed them everything else they needed to see. The Maldov was impaled by the yellow beam and quickly cut apart. The red beam was splashing against the shields of the Aderon, and already Orla could see the way they were glowing. The Aderon was one of the best ships of the Empire! That it was already struggling was almost impossible to believe.
"Why haven't we fired?" Aoumov yelled the demand and Orla realised the main weapon had been silent.
On screen, there were flashes of light as the missiles encountered the incoming small ships. Unfortunately, there were many small ships and they continued advancing, powering through the void towards the Cypiene fleet.
"Aim correction complete," one tech said and Orla was impressed by how controlled they were. With the mounting tension, it could not have been easy to work through the adjustment calibrations. She made a mental note to commend the tech if they survived.
"Fire!" The order was given only an instant before the Vindicator's main particle cannon fired. Combat was described as almost instantaneous, except in space, it wasn't. Orla could actually watch as the purple beam traversed the distance between the ships. It hit the unknown black ship.
She watched as the cameras focused on it, and the beam was joined by others. The black ship's shields glowed and Orla watched as light seemed to ripple over its hull.
"By the seven gods! What is that thing?"
Orla well understood the question. No ship should be able to absorb that much energy! Somehow, the running lights on the black ship were glaring at them like baleful eyes. Then, without warning the black ship sidled to the side. They couldn't track such movement and their beams lanced into the void, before they shut down. As Orla watched, the black ship lifted its front leg like protrusions again and this time two red beams lashed out, just as the small craft reached them. There was a flurry of explosions as the dog fight began between the fighters and Orla felt the Vindicator's small defence turrets fire at the incoming ships.
There was a larger explosion from the side.
"The Aderon is down!" Uresten reported as the red beams ceased. The other ship was firing, but the yellow beam wasn't as strong as the black ship.
Aoumov looked grim. "We can't fight them head on," she said. "Move the fleet into the debris field. Let them come to us!" The order was sent to everyone and the Vindicator's engines powered up, pushing them to the side. They could not afford to turn completely. The shields were the same strength on the front and back of every ship, but most of the weapons were pointed forward.
Orla glanced at Aoumov, her eyes questioning. Can we defeat them? Everything else was superfluous.
The Captain looked back before examining several screens. Orla realised they contained the damage reports from the fleet. Aoumov took a deep breath but the Sector Commander recognised it as a considering noise before the Captain turned back towards her.
"I think so," Aoumov said finally but her voice was not as sure as the Sector Commander would like. Still, she had asked for the truth and the Captain wasn't giving her the answer she wanted to hear. "It will be hard fought but if we can get a couple of missiles close, then I think it's possible. The black ship moved out of our beam's path. I surmise that's because it couldn't handle the energy, so it's not invincible." The Captain sounded more confident at the end.
The Sector Commander nodded. As much as she wanted, now was not the time to argue. Defeating the stronger than expected enemy had to come first, not retrieving Gvar, because if this enemy was allowed to gather strength, they would be a threat to all Cypiene, not just her Sector. And, a cold part of her mind rationalised, calculating that if she could bring back the tech on either enemy capital ship then that would give her time to replace Gvar. The Eacar would not have her clan's territory.
The Vindicator shook and the lighting flickered. Orla wasn't the only one to turn to the damage display. "What caused that?"
"The little ships!" came the fast reply.
"How can they be that powerful?"
"Just keep them off us!" Aoumov ignored the question. Right now, it didn't matter how they were that powerful. They had to deal with reality.
The smaller ships in her fleet, which had been fighting the spheres the enemy capital ships had launched, now moved to cover the Vindicator.
"Tell the Success, Gallant and Tenrye to target the original enemy ship. Abatis, Serenade, Diogo and the Vindicator will target the black ship. I want missiles reprogrammed for the gravity well and ready to launch in thirty seconds." Aoumov's voice was firm as she gave the orders.
The Vindicator was currently behind a large derelict ship. Orla couldn't see it but she knew that black ship would be cutting through the debris with its red beam weapon. They couldn't hide forever and it would track them through the field. This was obviously the enemy's home territory.
A wave of confirmations appeared on the comm screen and Aoumov nodded. "Attack in twenty seconds!" She announced. "All power to forward shields," she added. Against the strength of the black ship, they were going to need every jot of power there.
"Warheads ready!"
Aoumov was working at one of the consoles, her fingers typing quickly as she worked on something that looked like a mess of lines on the screen. "Bring us around from the derelict to fire then reverse! We are going to need all the cover we can get."
The Captain's orders were carried out with quiet efficiency, as was expected but Orla was surprised by how much her gut twisted as the seconds counted down. When the final second ticked over, she was nervous but she had every right to be! What should have been a simple retrieval operation against an upstart race was turning into a fight for their lives.
The Vindicator surged and the display screen tracked their progress around the derelict. Subscreens tracked the other ships of their fleet but it was disconcerting to see that almost all of them were still surrounded by dots representing the spherical enemy fighters.
There were several deep toned thrums from the Vindicator. "Missiles away," Uresten confirmed the launch, the screens of his station tracking the small explosives.
The lines from the Vindicator were quickly joined by others and Orla watched the ordinance tear through space, even as the ship retreated behind the derelict once more. Just before they lost visual sensors, she risked a look at the enemy capital ships. They were both firing. The sickly yellow beam from the original ship had targeted the Success. The red beam of the black ship was quickly boring through the debris the Diogo was hiding behind. And then they lost visual as the horizon of the debris obscured everything.
A new countdown appeared on the main screen. Time until impact. Missiles were not used much in space combat. Most ships deployed their small ships to intercept or they replied on their point defences. The Cypiene still carried them because they were great for attacks on settlements and for the destruction of debris after the battle. Mining ships carried several both for self-defence and for use in breaking up large asteroids. The problem was most missiles they used did not have to be fast and were easy targets for military spec ships, which both the enemy capital ships were. For this plan to be successful they would have to distract the ship's crew, focusing all their energy into attack. A second counter complimented the time til impact one and it was almost at zero.
"Move! Now!" Aoumov screamed the order and again the Vindicator's engines surged, moving them once more into the open. "Fire!" Their beam actually clipped the debris in their haste but it took more than that to deflect particle beams and the purple beam quickly burned thru the edge of the derelict to lance out. Orla tracked its passage, noting that the other ships had fired. Seven particle beams slashed thru space.
The enemy ships returned fire and Aoumov nodded grimly. "Good, good," she whispered but Orla knew it was anything but good.
It was, however, necessary.
The more energy the enemy fleet expended in attack, the less they would have for defence and if the Cypiene's weapons somehow bring down the enemy's shields, then the slow moving missiles would do far more damage.
Orla could only imagine the shock of impact as their beams hit the black ship. They were still too close to the debris field for a proper visual but she knew the shields would be visible, wrapping the black ship in a sheath of transparent blue. It would shimmer beautifully but then the heat sinks would begin to glow. The Sector Commander didn't know the enemy design but she could well imagine the ship glowing ominously.
"The Serenade is down!" The cry was frantic and one of the particle beams disappeared.
"Keep firing!" Aoumov ordered and Orla could read the grim sub-instruction in her tone. 'Or we are all down,' it said clearly.
The Vindicator's crew could hear the implication as well, and while they had no comms, Orla knew that the remaining ships heard it, because none faltered. Orla could feel the surge of determination. She only hoped it was enough.
The image on the main view screen changed to display a fuzzy visual of the black ship. It was difficult to see with the light caused by their attack but it had ceased firing after the Serenade had fallen and seemed to be concentrating on defence.
Orla glanced at the countdown. It would be soon but she wondered as the numbers tricked down why the ship had not yet moved? Had they damaged it earlier? She knew better than to hope for that but it seemed a reasonable explanation.
"Impact in three, two, one," Aoumov murmured and the screen turned white an instant later.
Most of the crew averted their eyes from the dazzling display. Those who didn't could honestly say that there was almost nothing to see. The screen went white, tinged with yellow as the warheads detonated. The light from the initial blast quickly faded but with all the extra interference, the image didn't resolve into something which made sense. As a result, it was the techs working at the sensor stations who knew the result first.
"No!" The word sent shivers thru the bridge crew. "Target remains," came the follow up they knew was coming from the first word but didn't want to hear.
"Our heat sinks are cycling. Two minutes before we can fire again," came the further report from the Chief Weapon Tech. It was bad practice to completely max out the heat sink but it was evidence that they had put everything into the attack. For nothing, it appeared.
Even once the heat sinks had cycled, it would take another two minutes before they could generate a sustained blast that wouldn't instantly overwhelm the sinks.
"The Abatis reports the original enemy is listing."
Relief surged thru the crew. The enemy was not invincible.
"They're down but not out," Aoumov said before anyone could relax. Not that she thought they would but it was best to ensure everyone remained focused. "What of the other ship?" she snapped the question. It was still there but how damaged was it? Nothing could take that much pounding!
"Visuals unchanged," came the instant report but it was followed by the one Aoumov was waiting for. By the time you could perceive damage, the battle was almost over. It was what you couldn't see that made the difference.
"Energy readings fluctuating," the tech reported, their voice thick as they concentrated on the readouts. "It appears the shields are down."
That caused almost complete silence on the bridge and the entire crew hung on the next words. "There's a major energy spike no longer present." For clarification, a sub-screen appeared on the main screen. It displayed a graph showing a zig-zagging mess of lines in two colours. One was clearly labelled before and one after and as already stated there was a major peak absent on the 'after' line.
"How many missiles do we have left?" Aoumov demanded.
"Ten, sir!"
"Prep for fire." They couldn't wait until their main weapon was ready because every instant they waited, they gave the enemy ship time to restore its shields. It was now a race to see who could recover first.
"Missiles are ready." The response from the weapon techs was fast but they had probably prepped them already. They understood the seriousness of the situation.
"Split fire 80-20 towards the black ship." Aoumov ordered, watching the tactical screen. The numbers slowly counted down as heat was dissipated. She was about to give the order to fire when an alarm sounded. "What?"
"The Tenrye has left the debris field."
"Tell them to get back in!" Aoumov snapped. "They have no hope if they remain in the open!"
As if to punctuate the Captain's sentence, the black ship fired, its red beam boring thru space towards the Tenrye. In response, the Tenrye fired its engines, pushing itself further on to the beam as it charged forwards.
"Message from Captain Udhir."
"What is it?" Orla asked. Captain Udhir should know better than to disobey orders.
"'For Cypiene!'" The comm tech replied and the Tenrye's intentions became obvious. They were going to ram the black ship. The bridge crew was silent as they watched the drama unfold. The original enemy ship was still listing but the black ship appeared completely operational. Certainly, the colour of the beam remained unchanged.
"Fire missiles," Aoumov ordered as the Tenrye continued accelerating.
"We'll hit them!"
"Fire missiles," Aoumov repeated, her eyes hard. "Captain Udhir has made his choice."
Orla narrowed her eyes. For all the brutality the order implied, it actually bespoke mercy. While the battle report would say the Tenrye had been lost in combat against an unknown fleet, Aoumov could write that it was lost preparing the way for their final strike, which would give honour to Udhir's clan. Orla would decide later if the report supported Udhir or not.
If she had a later.
The Vindicator moved again, coming out from behind the battered derelict. The Diogo moved with them. The last of their missiles were launched, blazing their way across the distance. With the black ship focusing on the Tenrye the Vindicator held position, shifting slightly to bring their main cannon to bear.
It was almost unbelievable that the Tenrye was still intact but Orla realised that Aoumov had been correct. No ship could take that much fire without damage.
"Its shields are back!" A sensor tech cried, contradicting her thought. Still, she could hear awe mixed with heavy dread from the tech.
"As strong as before?"
"No!" There was slight relief in that tone. The main cannon had another minute until it was ready. This was going to be close.
"Fire when ready," Aoumov ordered, signalling that her order should be relayed to what remained of the fleet.
On screen, the Tenrye was still moving but it was travelling on inertia. The engines were dead and Orla was almost certain the crew was dead with them. It had been for nothing. The enemy ship would just dodge the incoming metal but she couldn't look away. Captain Udhir might have been stupid but she was still witnessing the death of his crew.
The tactical screen displayed the distance between the Tenrye and the enemy ship and as expected, when the numbers approached zero, the black ship moved.
"You stupid, idi…" Orla fell silent.
The Tenrye moved. The engine fired once, pushing it sideways, straight into the black ship. Space was silent but they could well imagine the noise as the vessels collided. Explosions wracked the Tenrye and Orla trembled as she stared at the visual.
The bridge crew was so absorbed in watching that they didn't notice when the weapons console pinged, indicating that the main cannon was ready to fire. The explosions faded and everyone felt cold when the black ship emerged, its legs actually moving to push away the remains of the Tenrye.
"By the seven gods," Orla whispered. It should not be possible but before she could consider anything further, their missiles struck.
Again, light obscured the view but they quickly saw the black ship rear back, its legs flailing.
"Fire!" Aoumov screamed, her voice cutting through the almost morbid fascination that had struck the crew. The black ship was incredible but it was not invincible. The weapon techs compiled and a few seconds later, the remaining ships followed suit.
The black ship responded in kind and as the camera's got better visuals, Orla could see it was damaged. The Tenrye had brought down the shields, and their missiles had scored deeply into its armour. It was amazing that it was still moving and she felt a reluctant surge of respect for whoever had built that ship. The design looked organic but it was highly functional. It had taken so much damage from them and was still moving. That was truly great engineering.
The Vindicator shuddered and Orla looked at the damage report. There was an explosion from the side, and while their shields were holding, the Abatis was gone.
"Keep firing!"
"The sinks will redline!" the Chief Weapon tech yelled.
"Burn it out!" Aoumov ordered and when the red ship refocused its fire on the Gallant, she added the further order. "Divert power from the shields!"
They had no choice but to try and vaguely Orla could see that their weapons were cutting into the ship's armour. It was not invincible, she told herself again, her breathing heavy as she watched.
While it could not be seen, Orla felt the Vindicator respond as the energy was diverted. The black ship noticed. It seemed to pull back and it strafed to the side again, but the remaining ships were quick to track it and their beams quickly reconnected. There were sparks coming off it in odd places and she could see how several legs were twisted. Its beam broke off suddenly and Orla felt her eyes stare at the visual screen, hardly daring to hope.
Then it restarted, once again targeting the Gallant. Orla didn't need to know that the shields were failing.
"We're redlining!" the Chief Weapon Tech shouted.
"Don't stop! Withdraw everyone from the forward compartments. Use the atmospherics!"
Almost immediately, Orla felt as if the temperature on the bridge rose. It was purely psychosomatic but she couldn't help it. The three beams continued boring into the black ship. It came as a surprise when they were joined by a fourth.
"The Gallant!" Orla gasped, fighting against the hot air that was filling the ship.
The beam did come from the stricken ship. It was only a brief blast, cut off when the Gallant exploded, impaled upon the black ship's red beam.
But it was enough. The extra energy was too much for the ship and the other three beams pushed through. The black ship literally writhed as it was struck and the beams pulled apart, cutting further through the armor. The enemy ship continued to writhe and Orla was reminded again of some primitive sea creature.
The Vindicator's beam faded as the heat became unbearable. A moment later, the beams from the Success and Diogo spluttered out as well. They all watched as the black ship continued to agonise but it did not fire and Orla dared to hope it was over. She kept her eyes on the ship. The motion slowed and then finally stopped.
"Energy readings?" Uresten demanded of the sensor techs.
"Dropping," they replied and the feeds from their stations were displayed on the main screen. The graph was trending downwards and Orla felt she was watching the creature die.
"Open comms," Aoumov instructed, "and get me a damage report."
There was a flurry of activity on the bridge and Orla forced her eyes to close briefly. They hurt. After all that, her eyes hurt. It was silly but that's what she felt. After a moment, she reopened them, watching as the bridge crew scurried around.
"It will take a refit if we ever want to fire the main cannon again," Uresten said, summarising information that appeared on his screen. "The Diogo and Success report the same."
"The alien ship?"
"The original ship has minimal power but is too heavily damaged to continue combat. The second ship is coming up as an energy blank. It's already drifting but…"
"What?"
"The small ships are not inactive," Uresten said grimly and Orla knew there was something wrong. "They are cutting through the hull." With the pronouncement, she identified the groan that was echoing through the ship.
That's why they couldn't retreat. The larger enemy ships could not pursue them but the smaller ones could. They'd never make it through all the derelict ships, not with their shields compromised. With the damage to the Vindicator their manoeuvrability was probably compromised as well. It might be better to retreat but it wasn't an option, not until all the enemy ships were dead. Aoumov was experienced enough to have known that already. The situation was such that it didn't comfort Orla that she had chosen such a sensible commander.
"Where are our fighters?"
"Gone." Orla recognised the voice of Captain Wetra of the Success. "We aren't going to last much longer either," she added brutally. "Move into position around us."
"No!" Aoumov objected.
"Do it!" the woman insisted. "Move into range, and get whatever shields up you can. We'll kill the remaining pests."
Aoumov trembled but she gestured her agreement and the helm responded. "All crew, brace for impact."
In the silence of space, the Vindicator and Diogo moved close to the stricken Success. "What shields do we have?" Uresten asked.
"Minimal, and our heat sinks are still purging."
"Raise whatever we have," Uresten ordered, looking towards the tactical display for the Vindicator. The first line of shielding highlighted. "Nothing more?"
"Not yet."
"Ready?" Captain Wetra asked. She looked calm.
"Yes," Aoumov said tightly.
Wetra nodded, giving them a serious look before her image vanished. It was replaced immediately with a countdown. Ten seconds.
"Brace for impact!" Aoumov ordered again and eight seconds had never seemed so long as they waited. The spherical ships kept attacking, using their powerful lasers to cut deeper and deeper into all the ships.
Then the Success blew. As with most self destructs, it was controlled. They were designed that way but there was an effective blast radius and they were within it. The Vindicator shuddered and those whose eyes were not fixated on the image of the burning ship turned towards the tactical screen. The dots representing the enemy fighter ships were at a distance to them.
"Get them!" Aoumov ordered.
The smaller cannons on the Vindicator fired, filling the still cooling ship with the hammering roar of their fire and the few spherical ships that were still struggling to attack were destroyed. Silence filled the bridge when the guns fell silent and everyone watched the tactical screen.
"Is… is it over?" The stuttering question came from one of the techs.
Orla wanted to echo the sentiment but her position was such that she could not ask. Instead, she sent a significant glance towards Aoumov. The captain was still examining the tactical read outs but finally she looked up and nodded. Orla felt relief flood through her body. It was over. But when the threat to her life ended, she recalled their purpose.
"Gvar!"
"Sector Commander," Aoumov said formally, "With all due respect, we are in no position to pursue Sector Son Gvar. Nor, if I may speak honestly, can we be certain that he is still alive." She gestured towards the screen which still displayed the stricken enemy ship.
"We have ships!" Surely they still had shuttles and the enemy ship had not moved since it had been disabled.
"That is true, Sector Commander, but we have no soldiers. The ship may be disabled but we must assume that the crew are ready to repel invaders. They will not surrender."
"Then I am to leave my Sector Son?" Orla objected.
"In our current state, it will be questionable if we can return to Cypiene territory," Aoumov stated. "Our best course of action would be to take a sample of the enemy fighter ships and to return to Cypiene territory immediately to regroup. The enemy ship is unlikely to recover, so we may retrieve them later."
Orla stiffened, sitting upright as she breathed hard. Aoumov was right but she didn't want to admit it. For so long, she had been able to call the shots that it was extremely unpalatable to even be given advice which went against her will. She breathed heavily, her thoughts spinning as she considered the mess this had turned into. Finally, with a heavy snarl of frustration she turned, looking away. It was her admission to the Captain and the woman was politician enough not to speak. She simply nodded before turning to Uresten to give the orders.
They were finished here.
-cfr-
Poor Orla, all she wanted was her heir back, now she's going to drag the Cypiene, and the entire galaxy into something else. Poor Harbinger, he's now lost two Vanguards in as many cycles! This is not the way it is meant to be! Still this battle took place over 3,000 years after the last one so the organics are bound to have gotten better. And unfortunately even the previous cycle's organics could have taken out a Reaper Dreadnought if they had sufficient numbers. The Human Ascended just made sure they were never isolated that much.
Review please? Yay, my selfish hope of four digits on the review number has been reached - thanks to your assistance! Thank you! Still happily taking reviews so don't be shy!