Annihilation (Star Force Series) (48 page)

I did some quick math in my head. The Macros had already wiped out one world, Princeton, with the first missile attack. Yale was half-dead and they were going to finish it now. The last world was Harvard, stretched out below us with scarred purple beaches and churning seas.

“Contact the Crustacean High Command,” I said. “Tell them what the machines are doing. Tell them they have to stop these cruisers, or they might be extinct within the hour.”

“How, sir?”

“Just tell them.”

As she relayed the message, the Macro cruisers made their next move. They broke up, splitting the fleet apart into a hundred and fifty separate units. The ships spread out in every direction. Then they began dropping, dipping down into the atmosphere of Harvard. Their hulls turned orange, then white.

“What are they doing, Colonel?” Commander Firebaugh asked me.

I stared at the scene before I answered. I was humbled by the magnificent purity of the enemy. They had the single-mindedness that only a machine could have. They didn’t care if they lost a fleet, or a hundred fleets. They only cared about taking us out. I had the feeling they’d gotten tired of dealing with us, and changed their strategy to a new one: extermination. Biotics were to be destroyed wherever they could be found. The war had entered a new stage.

“They’re killing a world, Commander,” I said sadly. “The friction will burn off the attacking marines. But they won’t stop falling. They know our fleet is bearing down on them and they can’t stop us from destroying them. So they’ll come down in a hundred separate locations and ignite their cores.”

“Just to kill the lobsters?” the Commander asked incredulously. “They’ll sacrifice their entire fleet?”

“Taking out an enemy species is worth more than any fleet. The machines are winning today.”

I watched, as did we all. There was little else to do. Within a few minutes, I had my answer. I’d hoped I was wrong—but I wasn’t. One by one, the big ships exposed their cores and detonated themselves. The cruisers blew themselves up in a chain of explosions. Each blast was huge and devastated a new spot on the beautiful world below.

Soon, the purple sands were gone. I couldn’t even see the great ocean a minute later. The entire planet was shrouded in vapor and airborne debris. Still, the explosions went on. Beneath the thick clouds, huge orange flashes continued to rock the world. From my lofty perch in space the impacts were silent, terrible, and unreal to behold.

-41-

The surviving fighters limped home to their respective motherships. The pilots inside were as drained physically and emotionally as were their ships’ power systems and ammo magazines. Of the two, the ships were the easier to repair. The pilots were damaged goods. We’d sacrificed so much, and yet failed to defend the last Crustacean world. We’d all witnessed the death of a lovely planet, and we’d never be the same afterward.

I kept thinking of Sandra. That seemed selfish, in a way. What right did I have to lament the loss of a single woman after having presided over this failed attempt to save a trillion individuals? The human heart has no sense of scale and balance, however. I would have probably traded them all to have my woman back the way she’d been a week ago. But that was not an option.

I was haunted in particular by Sandra’s scent. It had been a unique thing. What was the source of the memory that lingered in my mind? Her shampoo? Her perfume? Or even her sweat? Possibly, it was a mixture of all these things. I don’t know, but I’ll always remember the way she smelled when I drew her close in my arms, and I’ll miss it forever.

Fortunately, there were a thousand things that desperately needed doing. It was, perhaps, the single blessing awarded by a war of desperation: a man didn’t have enough time to dwell and grieve. I buried Sandra and all my thoughts of her deep in my mind. I carried on because there was no choice, other than to go completely mad.

“Sir?” Jasmine said, signaling me.

I looked up and forced my eyes to focus. I was standing on
Gatre’s
bridge, eyeing the tactical display. The big ship had come through the battle without a scratch. The machines hadn’t been gunning for our fleet this time. They’d wanted blood, and they’d gotten it.

“What is it?” I managed to say to her.

I could tell from the look of concern on her face, she must have been trying to tell me something. I searched my memory for some hint. My mind was a blank, I hadn’t heard her words. Then my eyes strayed to my com-link, which was blinking urgently. I picked it up.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“The Crustaceans,” Jasmine said.

Great
, I thought. “You mean their High Command?”

She pursed her lips, then gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t think they have a High Command anymore, sir.”

“Right. Well, whoever it is, I owe it to them to answer the phone. Patch them through the translation circuits.”

“Done.”

“Colonel Kyle Riggs here,” I said into my com-link.

An oddly watery voice came to my ear a few moments later. To me, it sounded as if their own equipment had malfunctioned somewhat. It sounded as if their microphones weren’t good at handling the transition of audio from their aquatic environment to mine. I couldn’t fault them for that. Whatever tech they had left, I was sure it wasn’t their best.

“Colonel,” the voice said thoughtfully. “You have survived.”

“Yes,” I said.

The individual had not identified himself, but I didn’t have the heart to demand that he do so. I wasn’t quite sure what to say next.

There was a lull in the conversation. I thought of a million things to say. I could give him my heartfelt apologies. I could tell him to buck-up, tomorrow would be a better day. I could talk about humanity’s losses against the machines, and commiserate.

But I didn’t have the energy for any of these approaches. They all sounded like bullshit to me. So, we both fell silent for several seconds.

“You have gotten what you wanted,” the voice said at last.

“No,” I said. “I wanted to defeat the machines. I wanted to stop them from damaging your people and your worlds. I’ve failed to achieve my goals today. This was a great defeat for the side of the biotics, for our shared side.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said the voice. “You’ve won our allegiance. Our unquestioning loyalty and effectively, our obedience. We are at your mercy. What is your will, my ruler?”

“What? I want to help you. Tell me what
you
need, and I will attempt to provide it.”

“There is no need for further deceptions, Great One,” the translator warbled. “The slave does not dictate to the master. We accept our role, and wish only that you will in turn allow the few remaining members of our species to survive this day. We will grovel, if we must. We will scrape our shells from our flesh, if that is your will.”

I was alarmed and saddened. Not only did these people seem crushed, they were certain I had wanted it that way all along. They believed I had personally plotted their downfall.

After having dealt with the Crustaceans for years, I knew they were not like us. They did not understand actions taken out of benevolence. Such behavior did not cause them to reciprocate, it only made them suspect a trick. Perhaps this was because they were not mammals. Maybe they didn’t have a layer to their brains that allowed for interspecies compassion.

My mind raced, unsure as to how to proceed. I fell back on my past experiences with alien species. Often, it was best to be adaptable, as they usually weren’t. If my mind could flex, the two races could come to an understanding for the betterment of all.

When working with the Centaurs, who were hung-up on the concepts of honor and herd-values, I’d learned to talk to them in their own idiomatic way. This had allowed us to form a tight, valuable alliance.

This situation required more of the same adaptability on my part. Accordingly, I took a deep breath, and went for it.

“I’ve considered the matter,” I said loudly. Around me, the staffers watched and listened intently without seeming to.

“I’ve decided to accept the capitulation of the Crustaceans to Star Force,” I said matter-of-factly.

This elicited a series of gasps and twitters around the bridge. I ignored them all. I didn’t care about them at the moment. I had to save the Crustaceans from extinction. If they wanted a strong leader who was so terrible that he must be obeyed, I’d give them one. At least they could understand that relationship.

“What are your terms, Colonel?”

“There are no terms,” I said firmly, “other than total obedience and servitude.”

“We accept your terms. We beg for our lives.”

“They are granted. Now, you must answer a series of queries. No omission or deceit will be tolerated.”

“None shall be offered. Ask us what you will, Master.”

I stumbled upon hearing them call me “Master”. My staffers seemed scandalized as well. The level of background whispering swelled dramatically on the bridge.

I glanced toward Jasmine, who was looking at me reproachfully with her arms crossed under her breasts. She appeared to be shocked by this turn of events.

I had to stay in character, so I turned away from her. It helped me to think clearly. “Are any of your worlds habitable?”

“No, Master.”

“You will address me as ‘Colonel’, not ‘Master’, is that understood?”

“Absolutely. Our apologies are profuse, Colonel. We did not mean to offend.”

“Can you use your transports to salvage your civilian survivors?”

“Very few of them can be reached. The radioactive tides are rolling around the worlds, killing everything they contact. The atmospheres are so turbulent they are leaking away into space.”

I closed my eyes, then opened them again. The scale of this disaster was incalculable.

“You will gather every strong, fit individual that you can with your transports,” I told them. “You will do this immediately, and keep in mind you must create a breeding population.”

“Where are we going to go when we have saved all that we can?”

“You will come with us. We have a world in the Eden System that is warm and largely covered by one vast ocean. It will be your new home. We must abandon the Thor System for now. Once you reach Eden, you will be on the safe side of our battle station, and Star Force will protect you from further attacks by the machines as best we can.”

“Your wish is our command,” the voice said. “Your command is our prayer.”

Jasmine touched my arm, and pointed to the screens. I could see their transports moving off in several directions, dropping down into the turbulent atmospheres of their dying worlds. They would gather as many as they could, and they would come to a new world with me. It was the least I could do for them.

“We’ll talk more when you’ve gathered your people.”

“May I say one thing, Colonel?” asked the voice.

“Yes.”

“Let me offer my sincerest praise. You have played this game masterfully. We were fooled from the first by your feigned idiocy. Now, we see the true genius behind your actions. I have awarded your people eleven full points on the cognitive scale. No species has ever scored so highly.”

I blinked, and almost smiled. But I couldn’t quite do it. The whole situation was too horrible to be amusing.

A moment later I realized who this individual I was talking to must be. I’d spoken to him before and talked about humanity’s cognitive score at that time.

“Is this Professor Hoon?” I asked.

“That is my designation, unless you want me to change it, Colonel.”

“The title fits you, Hoon,” I said. “Keep it.”

“Thank you, Colonel. Thank you.”

-42-

I was in my anteroom just after the dayshift ended when a visitor rapped at my door. Of all people, Captain Gaines had come to see me.

“Congratulations,” I told him after inviting him in, “you survived the great failed campaign of Thor-6. Billions of others didn’t, but you did.”

“Yes, sir.”

“May I ask why you’re here?”

“I think you know, sir.”

I frowned, but then nodded after thinking back. “I promised to make you a major, didn’t I?” I said. “And now you’re here to collect.”

“That’s right, sir.”

I waggled a finger at him.

“All right,” I said. “Zap! You’re a major now. Next time you wade into combat on some rat hole, you’ll command a battalion rather than a company. Are you happy now?”

He stared at me thoughtfully. “No, sir. I don’t think ‘happy’ correctly describes my mood.”

I snorted and shook my head. I figured he would leave once he had his promotion, but he didn’t. He lingered, looking troubled.

I took in a deep breath. I wasn’t really in the mood for having a heart-to-heart, but sometimes a commander needed to provide guidance to his officers. I realized this was going to be one of those times.

Accordingly, I reached down under my desk and opened a small hatch in the floor. A number of chilled squeeze-bottles of beer were stashed there. I scooped out two of them and pushed one across my desk to Gaines. The bottle left a streak of white ice crystals on my desk, and he caught it neatly.