MotherShip (41 page)

“This ship. It is part ship, part life form,” Mother said. “It is alive!”

Rawlon stared at the data being relayed to him and the Hrono. “It is alive. But the other T'kaan ships are not. They are ships alone, are they not?” His voice faded with sudden thought.

“Yet, the low-level signals that emanate to the T'kaan warships from this ship,” Mother reported. “There is some type of symbiotic relationship with the T'kaan and this...ship. This huge life form.”

“This ship looks almost the same as the others,” Rawlon argued.

“It is the same, and it is different,” Mother added.

“But this ship has no shields. It has no weapons. The engines are real, added to the horny outer shell. And yet, there seems to another relationship, with this ship and the T'kaan ships. Even with the T'kaan inside the warships. We, too, now see wave upon wave of communication originating from it.” Rawlon paused.

“So,” Jaric said as his fighter joined Mother. “There is an yet undetermined symbiotic relationship with the T'kaan and this thing. And some other separate relationship with the ships themselves?”

“I don't care what kind of relationship it is,” Kyle cut in. “Let's destroy it all. The main T'kaan fleet is coming for us while we sit here and chatter!”

Mother's hybrid-weapon flashed full strength. “Rawlon, on my mark, we fire together. Only the Kraaqi battle cruisers, not the battleships.”

“Give us the word,” Rawlon answered.

Mother and the remaining Kraaqi battle cruisers drew closer, even as the huge thing kept turning away.

“Now.”

Thirty-two red bolts leapt out for the Great Horned ship. They shot straight into the side of the huge ship, each boring a hole straight through it. Large, pulpy sections exploded outward from inside the ship and out into space followed by great purple geysers of fluid which erupted from each gaping hole.

“There are some kind of artificial readings inside,” Mother said. “I am reading explosions occurring all throughout this...
ship
. And there are countless separate power signatures inside it. There's something else inside, something else alive besides the ship itself.”

“I'm reading a massive overload,” Rok shouted.

Mother turned away, as did the Kraaqi ships. Even as they accelerated, the Great Horned ship exploded with a thousand rippling explosions. Massive chunks of the ship shot in every direction with large splashes of purple staining their interior sides.

Throughout the great T'kaan fleet, one third of their ships began exploding—self-destructing.

“A definite relationship,” Mother said matter-of-factly.

The officers aboard the Kraaqi flag ship cheered as one, as did every warrior in the allied fleet.

Rawlon looked at the viewscreen. “We must attack the other two ships. Quickly! They know what we are up to now.”

Tarlog appeared. “I am calling in the Home fleet, they will jump in at this point near the Great ship of the First fleet.”

“Good,” Rawlon said. “But we must attack now. More T'kaan battle groups are now speeding to its defense.”

“These Great ships do possess engines. And yes, they can jump to hyperspace,” Mother reminded them.

“They think they can still defeat us in this one battle. They will stay a bit longer,” Rawlon said. “But now we have a chance, a small one, but a chance, to do the same.”

“They will outnumber us before we can close with the next one,” Tarlog said as he rose from his sensor screen.

“And we will not have enough ships to attack the last one, the young one, of the Third,” Rawlon stated.

“Give me all of the fighters. I will take out the ship of the Third fleet myself,” Mother said.

“Yes,” Rawlon said. “All fighters, go with Mother. Clear a path for her to get in close.” Rawlon turned to his Comm officer. “Get me Admiral Saris.”

The battered image of the Mewiis Admiral appeared on the viewscreen, surrounded by roaring flames that filled her bridge with a haze of black smoke. Blue blood flowed from wounds on her chest and arms, the streaming fluid giving her uniform a bluish glaze. Behind her, consoles suddenly exploded in flowing showers of sparks and smoke as the flames roared higher.

“We...” Saris coughed, wincing with pain as she bent over. Slowly, she rose to face Rawlon, a determined look on her face. “We...have held the left wing for you.”

Rawlon stood, staring speechlessly at the burning view.

“We t-told you we would hold it.” She bent over again, coughing up blood.

“Yes, you have held,” Rawlon whispered with emotion.

Saris continued to cough violently, her breathing ragged and hard.

“I have one last order for the courageous Mewiis fleet,” Rawlon said, a deep sadness in his voice.

The Mewiis female looked up, still coughing. “I will pass your orders to what's left of our ships. But... my ship is even now being destroyed.”

The image jumped, and static blocked out the signal momentarily. Seconds later it returned, the flames higher, the smoke thicker on the burning bridge.

“Speak quickly,” Saris coughed.

“You must pin down as many T'kaan as you can, Saris. We have found a weakness with them. We may yet win this day,” Rawlon said with renewed urgency.

“I saw the T'kaan ships self-destruct,” Saris paused again, coughing. “I hoped it was your doing. For the children's sake.”

“Tell your ships to attack, Saris, in every direction. We must create confusion among the T'kaan.”

Saris smiled through her pain. Using her left arm, she clumsily began working the console. “I send it as we speak.” The Mewiis admiral looked up as another explosion rocked her ship, sending the flames higher and sending showers of burning sparks to cover her body. She groaned with pain, and looked up through the boiling smoke now enveloping her.

“We...” she whispered, and then paused, grimacing. “We...held.”

The signal went dark.

Rawlon, Curja and the bridge crew stared at the blank viewscreen for long seconds.

“Farewell, brave warrior,” Curja said to the blank viewscreen. Standing at attention beside his station, he brought his clenched fist across his chest in Kraaqi salute.

Rawlon smiled approvingly at Curja. Taking a deep breath, he looked slowly around at the rest of the officer's faces aboard the bridge of the Thunderer, all now turned expectantly toward him.

“Begin again the Music of War on my mark—for our Mewiis warriors. We attack for them and their children!”

“The T'kaan have gathered several battle groups between us and the Great Horned ship,” Rok reported.

“Yes,” Kyle agreed as he glanced at his sensors. “Their mission is to stop us. But ours is to break through and allow Mother to attack. All we have to do is make an opening.”

Jaric stared at the T'kaan before them. There were at least two cruiser squadrons, maybe two dozen frigates, and well over two hundred fighters. “How many with us?”

Rok began taking stock of his attack group, punching his console while he flew. He looked up, staring ahead at the T'kaan. “Fifty-seven fighters, all that's left of the Hrono and Kraaqi.” He growled under his breath. “Kyle, you lead these fighters. Jaric, you take these.” Rok sent the encrypted message via his console. On every fighter, their individual assignments lit up on their screen. “We shall form a mini-phalanx. MotherShip, where shall we strike at their defensive line?”

Mother had already been analyzing the forces before her, studying their layout, how the T'kaan ships were positioned to support each other and prevent her own breakthrough. She focused her processing power with the supplied data from her sensors, comparing it with all of her past battles with the T'kaan that day. Thirty milliseconds passed and several hundred options were presented. She filtered them with the current sensor data and reanalyzed. Two final solutions came up.

She chose the second.

“Rok, lead your group against this formation of frigates and fighters. This is our feint. Kyle and Jaric's groups will turn as if to support you. Just as you begin your engagement and the T'kaan forces begin to close upon this point... we strike our main blow. Here.”

Across every fighter, the T'kaan battle line was painted across their consoles. Rok's feint appeared, and then the section below and left where the main strike would actually take place.

“Rok, if you can extricate your fighters, come through behind me. Kyle and Jaric, just get me an opening, and break off. I will fly through and make my attack.”

“Mother, there are several ships near the Great Horned ship.”

“I will take care of them.” But Mother's processors burned with activity, trying to access a solution. None were favorable. She could use her super-weapon once on that formation of ships. Then five long minutes would have to go by before she could strike her main target.

She would only have time for that one shot before her shields would fail. She would try to reanalyze more solutions while she attacked. But from her present data the one shot would have to destroy it—there would not be time for a second.

“Shall I start the Music of War now?” The acting First Officer asked.

Rawlon turned to the young Kraaqi officer.

“Turn it up as loud as it'll go!”

“Where's the Home Fleet?” Rawlon shouted.

Curja had just returned to his station, his wounds hastily bandaged. “No sign of them, Admiral.”

The Kraaqi battleship lurched under more direct hits. Around the bridge, the lights dimmed, replaced by the eerie red glow of the emergency lighting. From two control stations, sparks exploded as the Kraaqi officers jumped away.

“Get me Tarlog.”

“The ships of the Hrono are being hammered, sir. They are taking heavy losses.” Curja looked up from his station. “The Hrono flagship's comm systems are down. It's engines are off-line and her shields are buckling. Tarlog cannot reply.”

Rawlon slammed his fist down. “The T'kaan are going to stop us. We can't break through these battleships!”

At that moment, a bright flash appeared to the left of the T'kaan battle groups that were attacking them. Scores of ships appeared out of the familiar flash—the Hrono Home Fleet emerged unexpectedly from their hyperspace jump.

A cheer went up from the Kraaqi around Rawlon.

“About time,” Rawlon grumbled. He stood. “Order Admiral Trakam to smash the T'kaan battleships—use every hybrid weapon. Send orders to our fleet to swing around behind his attack.” Rawlon pointed decisively at the viewscreen. “On to the Great Horned ship!”

Before them the red tracers of the hybrid weapons of the Home Fleet lit up the stygian blackness. Numerous T'kaan ships began exploding.

“How many Kraaqi ships still have their use of the hybrid weapon?” Rawlon asked.

Curja's fingers danced over his controls. “Four battleships...and five cruisers.”

Rawlon growled under his breath, and spoke. “It will have to be enough. Send word to the MotherShip—
we attack!
”

Rok's fighters leapt for the frigates under a thick hail of blaster fire. Kraaqi fighters began exploding under direct hits from the heavy weapons.

“Attack!” Rok roared into his comm.

A cloud of T'kaan fighters approached the small formation of brave Kraaqi. The tracers from the combined blaster fire or each group streaked through the blackness, crisscrossing between them. Still in their tight phalanx formation, the deadly Kraaqi fighters closed, Rok's fighter leading the way.

“Now!” Mother shouted.

Kyle and Jaric banked their groups away from Rok's group and attacked. A blizzard of blaster fire greeted them as they kicked the rudder of their ships, trying to avoid the deadly fire. Their fighters answered as they fired simultaneously.

Two T'kaan frigates reeled from direct hits.

Kyle pushed his ship toward the left-most frigate and fired his last two torpedoes. Jaric followed, firing all his blasters. The frigate's shields buckled, and the ship exploded. The other frigate, its systems off-line from the initial hits, began to drift in space.

“Yahoo!” Jaric shouted with glee. In the next instant, he was diving his ship down hard as a hail of blaster fire pummeled his shields.

“All fighters, break and attack in pairs. Draw their fire!” Kyle ordered.

Mother kicked her engines into overdrive and leapt past both Kyle and Jaric and through the small gap left by the crippled frigates.

Even as she did it, alarms screamed inside her circuits. A cruiser sent a salvo towards her as she tried to twist out of the line of fire, but Mother took two direct hits. Her shields buckled and her primary power grid fell for the third time that day, but her backup grid did come up immediately.

But she had no shields now.

She shuddered violently from several direct hits as T'kaan fighters attacked. Five Hunter fighters hammered her with a deadly salvo as they raced past and now turned for another attack. Mother felt the blows penetrate her hull, she felt the damage to several internal systems. Worse, a small section of long-term memory flickered with damage. Instantly, she began copying its precious contents to another section of memory before it was lost forever.

More direct hits struck her from behind as she tried to avoid the Hunters now in hot pursuit. She fired a volley from her main guns, destroying one and partially damaging two. The Hunters broke off their attack and turned—but in seconds they reformed for another run.

More alarms now screamed from the latest direct hits.

“Guardian. My starboard engine has broken loose from its moorings. It is overheating. You must push it back into place or a massive explosion will occur in ninety-five seconds—an explosion that will destroy me. I must endeavor to get shields back up while I fight off the Hunters.”

Guardian stood, silent and obedient, his seven-foot frame moving with surprising quickness in response to Mother's orders. He had been assisting the Fixers with repairs to the main power grid one level above the engine rooms. As he entered the starboard engine room, there were only forty-nine seconds left.

Fixer3 was already there, trying to push the huge engine frame back into place with its minuscule form. Guardian's sensors immediately detected the extreme temperatures emanating from the engine. As he stepped beside the smaller robot, he noted that Fixer's hands had already melted to the overheated surface.