MotherShip (37 page)

But Tarlog only nodded in agreement. “Yes, we fight under you, Rawlon. This day. The Home Fleet is ready—out of sensor range.” Tarlog bowed toward Rawlon. “The entire Hrono fleet now await your orders. As do I.”

Rawlon seemed almost shocked at Tarlog's last words. He nodded. “Many centuries of warfare are hard to discard. The Kraaqi value your ships, Admiral Tarlog.” Rawlon paused a brief moment, and then added. “We value the courage of the Hrono. May our enemies tremble at this great battle fleet assembled before them.”

“Sir!” A junior Kraaqi officer announced to Rawlon as he stepped beside him. “The MotherShip and the fighters of the three humans have just arrived and joined the lead battle group of Kraaqi fighters.”

“Good, I have assigned them to the Death squadron—now under the leadership of Rok. They will all proceed to the forward point to engage the enemy first.” Rawlon growled under his breath in thought. He nodded. “Send Chagak and Krazak with their Frigate battlegroups to join them.”

Rawlon waved his taloned hand in salute toward the viewscreen. But even before he could ask for a comm channel to welcome the honored allies of humanity, another officer suddenly raised his head from his station and spoke in a calm voice.

“The T'kaan fleet has just come into sensor range, sir.”

Each Kraaqi Captain watched as their viewscreens filled with the horned prows of the T'kaan war fleet. On they came, multiplying before their eyes like hordes of insects. The Hrono officers and the Mewiis watched in shared silence inside their own ships as the T'kaan multiplied across their own viewscreens—hundreds of warships, and then thousands.

And more.

Kyle reached down and readjusted the controls on his sensors. But the numbers kept increasing. He pounded the control panel harshly, as if that would make the numbers stop rising. But it did nothing.

Everywhere the eye gazed, there were T'kaan warships—from massive formations of battle cruisers, to wave after endless wave of fighters; from tightly packed squadrons of the deadly frigates, to the battle lines of the huge horned Battleships. Still they came, and still the ships multiplied.

“Something's wrong!” Kyle barked as he began adjusting his sensors again.

Mother's processors began assimilating the vastness of the approaching fleet and for the first time in her existence, she felt confused.

“I've got incoming,” Becky shouted as a wave of Scout fighters stormed down.

One hundred and forty-four ships closed with them—a single formation of T'kaan fighters.

“Becky! Take half the Death squadron and close with them.” Jaric ordered. He looked over at another wave now veering directly towards him. “I'll handle this group. Kyle, we need reinforcements. Now!”

Even as the words were spoken, a formation of nine T'kaan frigates came into weapon's range.

Four Kraaqi frigates observed this maneuver and quickly moved in position to engage them. Silently the T'kaan frigates turned as one, showing their full profiles in a battle line opposite the line of Kraaqi warships as they flew in parallel.

“Fire!” Krazak ordered to his Kraaqi frigates.

Almost simultaneously, the T'kaan fired their full broadsides. Blaster bolts crossed each other and blossomed across the shields of each ship like electric flowers, brief and fantastic.

Mother's alarms rang out. She turned to engage six more T'kaan frigates that had suddenly drawn into range.

From his flagship, Rawlon stared dumb-founded. Slowly he stood as the horde of ships became clearer on his viewscreen. His hands reached out blindly as he walked between his officers’ stations, straight toward the viewscreen that continued to hold him hypnotized.

Inexorably, the T'kaan warships multiplied before his very eyes.

“How many ships, Curja?”

But all the officers around the bridge were frozen at the reality of the nightmare unfolding before them.

“Curja!” Rawlon shouted, as he continued staring into the sea of horned ships. Like everyone else who couldn't take their eyes away, a feeling of sudden, impending doom filled his heart. Finally, he let out a long breath and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Get me the MotherShip.”

But Mother was busy. Her primary weapon was primed, but she held it as she launched a spread of torpedoes at the formation of frigates, even as they fired at her.

“How can there be so many?” Kyle shouted as a T'kaan fighter exploded in his sights. His ship shuddered. Kicking his thrusters, he began rolling away, trying to see where the fire was coming from.

In a vast swirling spiral of ships, Becky led her Kraaqi fighters in a free-for-all punctuated by frequent showers of explosions. The tracers were thick around her ship and coming from every direction.

As soon as she finished off one horned fighter, two more engaged her. Wiping her blonde hair aside, she saw that her shields had already dropped below fifty percent, and just five minutes into the battle. She targeted another T'kaan and took it out.

A second T'kaan frigate broke in two as Mother brought her twelve guns to bear on a group of fighters that had swooped upon her flanks. Mother felt her shields diminishing under more direct hits from the frigates as she prepared to fire a third spread of torpedoes at them.

Her sensors suddenly registered the T'kaan markings on the ships she was destroying. For a millisecond—an electronic eternity—all her internal processes froze at once. But the image was double-checked, and would not go away.

Mother immediately sent the urgent signal back to Rawlon's flagship.

Rawlon continued to stare in disbelief at the viewscreen.

“There are more T'kaan ships on my viewscreen...than there are stars,” he whispered grimly. As Rawlon continued to watch the approaching fleet, Curja approached him and whispered excitedly in his ear.

The Admiral turned slowly to face Curja.

“Did I hear you correctly?”

Curja's desperate eyes spoke for him, as he repeated the dire message again. “We are vastly outnumbered, five ships to one. Our sensors do not lie.”

“The MotherShip is on-line, sir. With an urgent message.” Shouted a third officer.

Rawlon turned.

“We must retreat, Grand Admiral.” Mother said matter-of-factly from the comm unit. “I have identified ships of both the T'kaan First and Second Fleets, along with the Third. We must recalculate our options in light of this new data. We did not plan for this scenario.”

“All three T'kaan fleets are here?” Curja whispered in disbelief.

Rawlon slammed his fist into his palm as his dark eyes narrowed. He growled as confusion fogged his mind.

“Tarlog is demanding you, Rawlon,” another Kraaqi officer shouted.

Rawlon nodded, feeling suddenly weary and old—and so very tired.

The Hrono's visage appeared on-screen. “Rawlon. We will be easily out-flanked. We do not have enough ships to stop their maneuver around the right wing.” The Hrono admiral stared back as if in shock. “There are too many.”

Rawlon nodded. “Order the retreat. And order the humans back.” Rawlon paused. “Can our fleet complete the turn and make hyperspace before the main fleets engage?”

Curja's hands flashed over his console, and he smiled. “Yes. Barely.”

“Order it.” Rawlon stared back at the viewscreen filled with T'kaan ships. Under his breath, he cursed.

Across the battle line, Kraaqi warships turned in solemn unison. Within seconds, the Hrono fleet began a similar maneuver.

Curja approached again. “The Mewiis Admiral is calling for you.”

Rawlon shook his head. Closing his eyes, he waved his hand to accept.

Admiral Saris appeared onscreen. “What are you doing? We came here to fight. Too many Mewiis children—too many Mewiis worlds—have already perished waiting for this day. If we do not make a stand here, the Mewiis home world will fall next.”

Rawlon did not answer.

The Mewiis’ eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you run? Do you fear this enemy?”

Rawlon shook his head tiredly. “There are too many...” He began.

“There will always be too many!” Saris shouted.

The Kraaqi warlord sighed. “We must replan...”

“No. No more planning. Our fleet will stay! We will hold the left wing. We must stay with our original plan!”

“You cannot—not against these odds,” Rawlon said. “You will be overrun within the hour.”

“The Mewiis will not leave.” She growled. “We stand between Mewiis worlds, Mewiis children. We draw the line here. We will fight here.” Saris raised her fist at Rawlon. “Now!”

For the first time Rawlon understood the diminutive Mewiis race. But he did not answer, feeling a sudden shame inside his warrior's breast.

With an angry gesture, Saris's image disappeared.

“Fight bravely,” Rawlon said absently. He had spoken the Kraaqi honorific given only to Kraaqi and their warrior brethren as they entered into battle.

The shields of the last T'kaan frigate attacking her buckled and it turned away disabled, but Mother had no time to finish the job. Already the swarm of T'kaan fighters attacking her had doubled, and her shields were dropping dangerously low.

“Kyle, form up with what's left of Jaric's wing. I'll join Becky,” Mother ordered. “We are retreating with the Kraaqi fleet.”

“This can't be.” Kyle snarled into his viewer. But he banked his ship sharply in compliance, not knowing what else to do in the face of the combined T'kaan fleets.

“We're already cut off,” Jaric said with a hollowness.

“Then we fight our way through, just like the old days,” Kyle snarled.

Rok's fingers squeezed the triggers and two T'kaan Scout fighters exploded in his sights. “The old days were not so good,” Rok said as he turned to fight another T'kaan.

“MotherShip, this is Minstrel.”

“Go ahead,” Mother said.

“I am with the Mewiis on the left wing. T'kaan ships are bearing down on us, formation after formation. The Kraaqi fleets are turning, retreating, but the Mewiis are standing firm. They will not retreat.” Minstrel's voice trailed off. “I am fighting the best I can alongside the Mewiis, but the T'kaan just keep coming.”

Mother started to speak, but a dozen Hunter fighters suddenly leapt out of the darkness for her. Focusing her processing power, she brought all of her main guns to bear and fired at them as she turned hard to avoid their fire. Ships exploded under her direct hits, and the Hunter formation broke up and retreated.

Another T'kaan formation now came into range to engage her.

In that instant, her sensors focused on Becky's ship. So near—and yet so far.

Waves of T'kaan fighters closed with the Kraaqi fighters that Becky led.

“They're everywhere!” Becky shouted.

The ship in Becky's sights exploded, but even as she looked up for her Kraaqi allies, she saw more of the three horned ships diving on her. Her fighter shuddered under direct hits and suddenly the shield alarm screamed—her shields were completely down. She kicked her ship hard over and dove away from them.

Without shields, she knew she was a sitting duck.

“I need some help here,” Becky said with a surprising calm.

Kyle destroyed another fighter and tried to turn to help Becky. But two more T'kaan cut him off. As he twisted away, he saw her out of the corner of his eye. He watched the three horned ships even as they fired. Helplessly, he stared at the tracers as they streaked straight for Becky's unprotected ship.

The universe seemed to stop.

Jaric fired and turned, trying to find Becky's familiar ship. But his ship suddenly shuddered under more direct hits. Jerking the controls he dove down and below the sudden hail of blaster fire. He tried to maneuver toward the dot that he knew was Becky's ship on his sensor screen. But he couldn't as his ship shuddered again with direct hits.

Jaric turned his ship away as he screamed his rage.

Mother's sensors pinpointed Becky's ship, and her merciless attackers. Even as she pushed her mighty engines and made them scream in protest, she was processing all possible attack vectors and deciding which would bring the most desired result—to save Becky. All her guns turned and focused on the targets attacking Becky, but they were out of her range.

Just out of reach.

Becky jerked her ship hard and then stared into the laser lances coming for her. Straight for her.

“Mother!” She cried.

Mother raced toward the sensor marker that was Becky, her engines straining past the red line. She bent every process to this one, great task—to protect her child, a job she was well equipped for, something she had done so many times. Something...

The sensor marker that was Becky's ship suddenly disappeared.

Mother was confused for the second time that day and her circuits began to overheat with intense activity. She started a Level Four diagnostic on her main sensors even as her guns belched death and destroyed the three horned fighters that had been attacking Becky's ship.

Within seconds, the diagnostics returned, completed. They were surprisingly clean as she raced past the blossoming explosions.

Mother quickly recalibrated her sensors and she scanned the area again. Still, she could not locate Becky's ship.

More alarms sounded inside her flickering, electronic soul.

She recalibrated her sensors a third time. It only took a few seconds, yet it seemed like an eternity. She continued to strain, to search... to search in vain for her lone girl-child.

When her recalibrations failed again, she began filtering out all ships, even Kraaqi, only searching for human configurations with her sensors. Only human ships.

Two ships appeared.

Mother's processors suddenly spiked into super-activity as she calculated all possible solutions to this inexplicable problem. Alarms screamed down her darkened corridors as displays flashed with streaming mountains of data. Her processors leveled off at one hundred percent utilization.