MotherShip (39 page)

“Rawlon is taking all his reserves—all of his battle groups,” Kaldah said.

Tarlog turned.

“Order the Home Fleet to close, but not engage. I want them one jump away, ready for my orders,” Tarlog waved Kaldah away. But before the officer had taken two steps, an expression came over Tarlog's face. A look that spoke volumes.

“Add this to the end of the message—something the MotherShip told me before we left.” Tarlog's eyes narrowed. “Admiral Trakam will understand...”

The First Officer held his position expectantly.

“Tell Trakam, ‘We go to storm the ‘Gates of Hell.'”

Rok screamed his own war cry as the Music of War deafened him. Turning his fighter, he ordered the Death squadron to close ranks.

“Where are the brethren?” He shouted to his wingman as he came into view alongside.

Before his wingman could answer, a swarm of T'kaan attacked from above.

Rok shouted victoriously as his blasters took out two more T'kaan fighters and his own ship danced between the remaining others. He turned and engaged three more T'kaan, and noted with a glance at his sensors that his wingman was gone—destroyed.

“Fight, Kraaqi. Fight!” Rok shouted to the remaining fighters of his squadron.

Mother, too, heard Rawlon's challenge. She heard the music as it roared over every communication channel, although she did not know what it signified. At least a part of her consciousness heard all of this—but so much of her processing power was focused on her sensors, on her diagnostics, on the raging battle that it seemed so unreal.

But what hampered her the most was the fact that her sensors were trying to see the unseeable in her present state of denial.

“Mother. I'm surrounded.”

Jaric's voice reached through her confusion and focused her processing away from the fruitless search.

Mother reached out with her sensors and found Jaric's ship. Five horned fighters were weaving around the desperate maneuvers of his lone craft as they tried to destroy him.

“I cannot find Becky,” Mother said in a strange tone.

Jaric ducked instinctively as Kyle's fighter shot over him. Two of the T'kaan horned fighters exploded in his wake.

As Kyle turned for another pass to help Jaric, three new T'kaan fighters fell upon his own ship.

“Watch your tail, Big K!” Jaric shouted. Multiple alarms sounded from his console as he brought his own guns to bear.

They were both fighting against impossible odds.

But Kyle was a madman. He banked his craft, miraculously dancing between the laser fire from behind as he swept upon the three remaining fighters Jaric was trying to deal with. Kyle did not speak.

But his weapons did.

Two more of the T'kaan ships exploded. The third shuddered and veered away in retreat.

More took their places as both Kyle and Jaric fought for their lives.

Mother felt her own shields begin to buckle under more direct hits, but she instantly redirected energy away from all non-essential tasks and brought them up again. She noticed with only the smallest part of her processing power that they only came back to nineteen-percent strength.

Suddenly her long-term memories were filled with the cherubic face of an eight-year old girl, her long blonde hair falling down around her tiny shoulders. The face was looking up at Mother's optic and asking her, no pleading to her—a question that she would never forget.

"Will you be my new mother? Now that mine is dead?"

Mother fired her weapons while her subconscious background processes held the memory of that little girl. Even then her shots found their mark and T'kaan fighters exploded and reeled. But her shields began to fall once more as more T'kaan blasters impacted against them.

Jaric suddenly seemed to awaken. He felt Kyle's anger focus him. He fed off of the burning madness as he watched Kyle's ship attack with reckless abandon. He focused his own anger into a weapon.

Jaric dove his ship hard, twisting and turning as four T'kaan fighters appeared directly in his sights. Two T'kaan ships disappeared in twin explosions as he raced between the remaining two.

“Where's Mother?” Jaric asked as he punched at his console, trying to get his shields back into decent shape.

Kyle's grim gaze was only for the T'kaan—to destroy them. Seeing none around them at the moment, he glanced at his sensors. All at once, he seemed to awaken from his madness.

Across his sensors twenty-one T'kaan battle cruisers were almost within weapon's range of their tiny ships. Worse, he couldn't number the Frigates and fighters descending on their position along with other capital ships.

And Mother was directly in their path.

“We've got to get out of here!” Kyle shouted. “Mother, turn hard. Turn hard!”

Mother turned some of her processing to her child's voice, leaving the bright memories of the little girl still running in her memory. Still, a surprising amount of her processing continued to watch, as in a trance.

“Kyle?” She asked vaguely.

“Mother, get out of there. An entire T'kaan Battle Group is on top of you!”

“I must find Becky. She is here, you know.”

Kyle felt himself stiffen in pain.

“Becky's dead,” he said simply.

Mother heard him as if in a haze. Something snapped inside her circuits, instantly she realized that there was nothing wrong with her sensors. But now she focused the majority of her processing on those two words—two little words—that Kyle had just uttered.

She began referencing the second word, searching, finding every usage of the word in her long-term memories; all throughout her vast, vast memories—a memory system that was filled with the entire knowledge of the human race.

Dead. Defunct. Deceased. Expired. Non-existent. Inanimate. Nothingness. Deprived of life. Lacking power... Non-functional....

The opposite of life.

Mother looked again at the face of the little eight-year old girl in her near-term memory, at her shining blue eyes as she asked her that question again, so long ago. A face she would never forget—she could not afford to forget, not now.

Because Mother would never see her again...see her...never...never... never...never... never... never... never... never... never...

Never!

The manta-ray shape of Mother turned on its side, standing on one wing as she glided through space. Instantly, all her interior lights went out one room at a time as her course remained unchanged. Almost as if in a dream, the ship went silent and dark. But from every single internal system, Mother redirected every ounce of processing power as she filled her near-term memories to capacity with a focused precision.

Kyle was already turning away as he looked back in shock. He checked his sensors, and noticed a power surge coming from Mother—a massive power surge.

Mother had, for only the second time in her existence, turned off everything that was non-essential to her existence. There were no life forms aboard her now to sustain, so she turned off all life support systems and redirected its power. Every function, every circuit and every system that she did not need for either her weapons, her sensors, her shields, or her engines, she either disabled or their power she redirected to one of those four systems.

All her functionality, all her processing power, everything became part of a single thread devoted only to one primary purpose—war.

Her entire being became
The Iron Huntress
.

The first T'kaan cruiser came into range and the mighty horns emanating from its prow spat death towards Mother.

Mother leapt and twisted, missing the laser fire by microns. Still, the power blistered across her rising shields and a sheen of light glowed across her hull from the laser lances that just missed.

Mother turned toward the cruiser.

Her primary weapon, the T'kaan/Human hybrid, the one she had given to all Kraaqi, Hrono and Mewiis capital ships...she fired.

A massive red line erupted from Mother's forward section. The black T'kaan cruiser intersected with this blazing red beam—straight through the ship's fully powered shields the beam sliced, passing through the gnarled hull as if it were nothing. The forward section of the T'kaan cruiser bent downwards as the beam leapt out from the other side. Next, a series of explosions rippled down the entire length of the mighty warship from where the beam had penetrated.

The T'kaan cruiser disintegrated in a massive shower of light.

The other twenty cruisers closed range along with six Frigates and another wave of Hunter fighters to engage and destroy Mother.

“It'll take Mother almost five minutes to recharge it again! What do we do?” Jaric shouted from his retreating craft. As he glanced down, Jaric saw his sensors fill with a solid wave of ships.

But this wave of ships came from behind them.

“Fire!” Rawlon ordered.

Twenty-six of the lead battleships fired their hybrid weapons, huge red lances of death streaked from their arrow-like prows. The remaining T'kaan cruisers and frigates attacking Mother were cut in two and disappeared in bright rippling explosions—in one fell blow from the Kraaqi battleships. Clouds of Kraaqi fighters now engaged the remaining T'kaan ships.

“Go get'em Kraaqi!” Jaric shouted.

But now dozens of entire T'kaan battle groups came into sensor range to counterattack against Rawlon's ships—T'kaan battle groups equal in size or larger to the one just decimated.

“Prepare for broadsides—main weapons arrays all battleships. Frigate battle groups are to sail forward and attack with torpedoes at these points.” Rawlon punched the console on the right arm of his chair that sent those coordinates. “Order the Tradha, Skorba and Carka fighter squadrons here.” Rawlon smiled at the viewscreen now erupting with explosions before his eyes. “And the main formations—the phalanxes—keep moving forward!”

The front echelon of Kraaqi battleships slammed into the T'kaan juggernaut, driving forward as if they were unstoppable.

The mighty war fleets of the Hrono, Kraaqi, Mewiis and T'kaan converged and entwined into deadly dances of death.

The Kraaqi-Hrono advance sliced forward with judiciously timed firings of the hybrid weapon—from specifically designated ships each time—that destroyed every T'kaan ship they touched. This was because the hybrid weapon did have its limits—only five total firings per ship. And it had to be recharged after every firing.

Thereafter the warships joined with massive broadsides of lasers and torpedoes with more and more frequency—Kraaqi battleships against T'kaan battleships; Hrono battle cruisers against T'kaan.

As for MotherShip, she fought against anything T'kaan that came within her range.

The fighting quickly became ship to ship—fighter to fighter, and eye to eye.

“Order Sharin's battle group to close ranks. We've got a gap at this position,” Saris shouted. Immediately the sensors revealed Sharin's battle group obeying.

The Mewiis were doing what they did best—defense. Their battle groups were now arrayed in a huge swarming defensive pattern on the left wing of the original battle line.

Minstrel's ship fought with the Mewiis. In one instant Minstrel was firing at a T'kaan ship, in the next instant the Circle Ship disappeared under its Stealth field to reappear and attack the T'kaan somewhere else. For the time being, Minstrel and the Mewiis fleet were holding their own.

But now the main part of the T'kaan juggernaut closed with them.

Huge broadsides leapt from each fleet. Shields blossomed and buckled on both sides.

“Their sheer numbers and momentum will drive them right through us,” Captain Saltis shouted to Admiral Saris.

Saris nodded. “Send the order to the capital ships. On my mark.”

The First Officer waited.

“Now.”

From every Mewiis cruiser and battleship the hybrid weapons erupted.

Every T'kaan battle cruiser and battleship that had been targeted exploded in the hail of fire, sending the T'kaan formations of frigates and fighters scattering in all directions as they fled to regroup for another run.

“The encircling movement will be complete soon. And a second wave of their battleships—twice as many—are coming. They'll attack us from behind at the same time.”

“Order all ships—all formations—to keep on the move within their assigned defensive sectors. On my mark, order Kara's battle group in the rear to go into Rover-Kragar swarming mode. But wait for my mark!”

Saris stared at her viewscreen as it switched view from the T'kaan ships encircling their position from behind and back at the second wave of T'kaan ships bearing down on them from in front. “Recharge the hybrid weapon on all ships. We've got to
punish
the T'kaan hard—obliterate these first waves. Slow them down and make them rethink their strategy.”

“And after the fifth wave of attacks?” Saltis asked.

“We use our main weapons and torpedoes,” Saris said grimly. “When those are gone—then we ram them.”

All around the three-dimensional phalanxes formed by the Kraaqi battlefleet, T'kaan formations closed and crossed—attacking like maddened insects. The T'kaan warships circled and twisted, weapons firing beams of death as they tried to stop the Kraaqi advance. From all directions the T'kaan horned ships descended.

It seemed that for every T'kaan ship destroyed, three more came into firing range and took their place.

Onward, the great Kraaqi fleet drove forward with the Hrono fleet on its right.

The minutes of war turned into the nightmare of an hour. The punishment of the T'kaan counterattacks began to take their toll as individual Kraaqi and Hrono ships slowed and dropped out of the protective cross-fire provided by the phalanx formations. Within minutes, these damaged ships were destroyed as the T'kaan warships fell upon them like metallic vultures for the kill.

Behind the fearsome advance, only broken and dead ships drifted as far as the eye could see. In front of the advancing battle groups the warships of each fleet closed upon each other in unrelenting attacks.