MotherShip (43 page)

Out of the total darkness, her sensors computed the searing effects of the coming explosion. But the massive explosion was not originating from the direct line of her shot—a wave of total destruction emanating from her strike.

She made a last calculation as she powered her engines to full throttle. But suddenly, the frigates appeared from behind a massive interior wall and fired at her even as the oncoming destruction reached for her from the other direction.

She had no place to run.

Mother fired her main guns into another section of the creature-ship with her sensors still reaching out in search of escape even as the edge of the growing explosion registered on her visual sensors for the first time—a boiling wave of debris accelerating with each millisecond. Behind her, the Frigates fired again as Mother turned into another section of the interior labyrinth.

Mother realized with a sickening surge that her window of escape was at an end. Still, she raced her engines, diving into another section. Immediately her sensors registered the enormous internal damage....

The Thunderer shuddered again.

Rawlon pushed the controls for Battery C-Twelve to fire. But nothing happened. The weapon's systems were off-line again.

“Evacuate the Bridge!” Rawlon shouted.

But nobody moved.

“We stay with you, First Captain,” Curja said.

Rawlon slowly looked at them all, his eyes narrowed and hard. He nodded with approval, balancing himself as the battleship lurched again from more direct hits. He sat down.

“Full speed—into the opening below the horned prow.”

The ship's engines groaned and slowly responded. The Kraaqi battleship slipped inside and into the dense blackness.

“T'kaan warships are following,” Curja reported.

“Let them,” Rawlon said.

Suddenly sparks and flames lit the bridge as another salvo sent everyone down. Rawlon felt the flames burn him, and the stench of his own burning skin seared his nose.

He raised himself, shaking the burning material off his arm. He swayed as his vision blurred, but he grabbed hold of his chair and steadied himself. Moving slowly, he sat down again.

“Begin Self-Destruct sequence. Short timing—set to thirty seconds.”

“Yes, sir,” Curja said as he painfully raised himself back to his station.

Rawlon began punching the console controls on the arm of his chair as the Thunderer's sensors reached out into the bowels of the creature-ship. Rawlon tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited, and then he smiled. “These are the coordinates for the hybrid weapon. Fire on my mark.”

“All weapons are off-line, including the hybrid weapon,” Curja said slowly.

Rawlon gritted his teeth and groaned with pain. “Get the hybrid weapon back. Everyone, concentrate on that single task!”

Behind him, Rawlon knew the T'kaan ships were powering their weapons for their last strike. His crew had to have the hybrid weapon back first. As he looked around, the only officer that could stand was Curja.

Rawlon grimaced as he stood, and then stumbled to Curja's station. Blood covered the console so thickly that the displays were blurred and almost unreadable.

“No wonder you have such trouble, Curja. You're bleeding all over the controls.”

Curja smiled weakly.

Rawlon touched his First Officer's shoulder tenderly. “I joke. You have done well. Let me help you.”

Wiping the displays several times with his sleeve, Rawlon began working the controls that were now visible. Seconds later, the charged hybrid weapon flashed on-line.

Curja and Rawlon smiled at each other. The Admiral stepped back.

“I give you the honor, my brave First Officer.”

Curja smiled wider as he leaned slowly forward, his hand poised over the controls.

Behind them the self-destruct sequence had dropped below ten seconds.

“For the human race—our brethren,” Curja wheezed.

Rawlon glanced at the main console. He read out loud. “Self-destruct in five, four, three, two...”

Curja pressed the control for the hybrid weapon just as the final second

The battle was over.

As far out as Minstrel's sensors could sweep, there was only death and destruction.

Inside its flowing, plasma body, Minstrel felt a great sadness; a feeling of such intense melancholy that Minstrel found it difficult to concentrate, to fly its spherical ship, even though for centuries this same ship had been Minstrel's only home—every control, every console memorized long, long ago.

Minstrel thought back, remembering the battle, fighting alongside the remnants of the Mewiis fleet in their last stand. Less than five percent of the original Mewiis fleet remained, all partially damaged. Only twenty-five warships could maneuver under their own power, a few others drifted intact but still registered active life support and precious life signs.

That is where Minstrel had last been during the battle, occupied by the countless attacking T'kaan ships when the last two Great Horned ships had exploded almost simultaneously.

Returning its thoughts to the present, Minstrel completed another wide scan search of the battlefield.

Very few intact Kraaqi or Hrono ships remained, scattered here and there among the sea of debris. The only cluster of active ships Minstrel could pinpoint comprised the last remnants of the Hrono Home Fleet. Admiral Trakam led them now, the sole surviving commander in the field—all the others were gone.

Worse, there were no signals from either Jaric or Kyle. Nor from Rok or any of his Band.

Nor even Mother.

As Minstrel stretched forth to control the ship and maneuver it among the seemingly endless debris field, a terrible weight worked against Minstrel's very thoughts and actions—a terrible weight of intense sadness. Time and again the ship shuddered as debris collided with the weakened shields, Minstrel's reactions once again too slow, its vision somehow blurred.

Minstrel focused again on the surreal scene that stretched endlessly across the main viewscreen.

In every direction, thousands of shattered hulls drifted; some still glowing from internal fires, most dark and silent. Some areas of destruction so thick with debris they even blocked out the stars beyond—broken shards of once mighty warships, now no more. It almost seemed that the entire galaxy had been littered by this one battle, the carnage and broken hulks so many.

Thousands upon thousands of dead ships.

Minstrel followed the path of the Kraaqi/Hrono charge; following the unimaginable trail of destruction. Sensors showed that the majority of dead ships were T'kaan.

But there were so many broken Kraaqi ships—and Hrono, too. But no Mewiis ships in this section. Only at the left wing of the once proud battle line were there broken Mewiis warships and the few active ones that remained.

The small remnant left of the Mewiis ships were now attempting rescue efforts, Minstrel noticed. There were many who had evacuated their shattered ships and now found themselves scattered among the drifting ocean of debris in rescue pods—waiting for rescue and the trip home.

As Minstrel's sensors discovered more rescue pods—Hrono and Kraaqi—it sent out their positions to the rescue ships. In turn, Minstrel communicated to the beings inside the rescue pods that their location was now identified and rescue was on the way, albeit slowly.

So few survivors
, Minstrel thought once again.

Too many would not make the trip home today. They were gone along with their ships.

“Minstrel, please report status of rescue operation.”

Minstrel recognized the voice of Admiral Trakam in the comm signal that originated from the Hrono battleship.

“I have found a few more survivors. I am turning my ship toward the glowing hull of the Great Horned ship of the First fleet. I will report back then.”

“Thank you. And I have some good news,” Trakam added.

Minstrel knew that at the point of the final attack, Trakam's Home Fleet had been in close proximity with the last of Rawlon's ships in his attack on the Great Horned ship of the Third fleet, the smallest of the Great Horned ships. He and his remaining ships were beginning their own rescue efforts starting from that far-off position, far from the last Mewiis ships.

“Please elaborate.”

“Tarlog has been found in a rescue pod. He's injured. But he'll live.”

“Any word about Rawlon's ship?”

Silence.

“Yes. Hull debris has been identified as that of the Thunderer, his flagship. It has just been confirmed by Zara, the acting First Captain for the Kraaqi aboard his battle cruiser, the Powerful. The Thunderer is no more, and no sign of any survivors among its officers.”

Minstrel made a note to write a special song for Rawlon and to find out more details of his great attack.

“How many Kraaqi ships have survived?” Minstrel asked.

Silence again.

“Twenty-seven. Including Zara's ship and one other cruiser. The rest are fighters, and a couple of frigates.”

Almost all gone. Minstrel's thoughts were further burdened and subdued by the immense destruction that surrounded its own ship. It was as if the entire universe had been the battlefield. And in a way, it had been. For the eternal war of the T'kaan had finally ended.

Still, Minstrel pressed on.

“No word of the humans—or the MotherShip?” Trakam asked again, already knowing the answer.

Jaric and Kyle's fighters had been in the group attacking the Great Horned ship of the T'kaan First Fleet. Minstrel's wide area scans had shown no active ships, no communication signals of any kind from that area, at least from this range.

“None,” Minstrel said.

The seconds and minutes stretched for an eternity. Minstrel's sensor sweeps reached to the edge of its capability, but still no life-signs.

There were also no signs of life pods. Hope was growing dim...

Suddenly, a light began pulsating. Minstrel worked feverishly, locking onto that weak beacon. That faint, scrambled signal slowly became discernible, and finally became a comm signal.

Minstrel hurriedly fixed on the weak signal, amplifying it, holding it, caressing it until it grew intelligible.

“This is Jaric. Repeat, we are in need of assistance. Our systems are down except for life-support. We are drifting. Repeat, this is Jaric...”

Minstrel's engines surged and the Circle Ship, scored and damaged, leapt forward.

In minutes, the darkened fighter appeared amid the dense, swirling pieces of floating debris that surrounded it. Targeting the tractor beam on the damaged fighter, Minstrel began pulling Jaric and his damaged ship inside.

Before the next hour had passed, a dozen other fighters were rescued in the same fashion; all that had survived the vicious explosion of the Great Horned ship of the T'kaan First.

Kyle and Rok were among them—battered, bruised and bloodied.

But alive.

Jaric stumbled into the main room. “Where's Mother?”

“I have not ascertained her last position,” Minstrel reported.

Jaric clenched his eyes shut as he searched his memory. “She was inside the T'kaan ship.” He opened them. “Did she get out?”

“I do not know,” Minstrel said.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jaric ran over and sat at Minstrel's main console as he began working the controls feverishly. Across their customary comm channels, he sent a message for Mother. If she were listening—if she could listen—she would hear it.

“Try your sensors across this sector,” Jaric ordered.

Minstrel complied.

But no ship registered. At least not one still functioning.

A limping Kyle suddenly appeared next to Jaric.

“Anything?”

Jaric shook his head and kept working.

“Let me try.” Kyle sat down at the console. He stared at the controls, thinking. Closing his eyes, his mind went back to the last moments before the final explosion. He concentrated.

He remembered the frigates that had followed Mother; they would've blocked her easiest escape route back out. Still....

In his mind's eye, he saw Mother's super-weapon suddenly erupt and tear at the Great Horned ship, sending a huge chunk of the ship's outer hull flying away with the violence of her shot. Perhaps Mother had found a way out through the exit wound of that first shot—it would've been her only chance.

He nodded, smiling. Staring at the viewscreen, he mentally calculated.

“Try here, Minstrel.” Kyle's finger found the last position of the Great Horned ship and then drew a line away from it. “From here to here. She's drifting, if she's alive at all.”

Kyle and Jaric looked intently at the display as Minstrel focused her sensors.

The area was a good distance away from the current battlefield of dead ships. The sensor sweep began, but there was nothing, not even debris.

Suddenly there was something—a debris field still traveling slowly away from them and on out into deep space.

Kyle focused and magnified the image. It was part of the T'kaan ship Mother had destroyed; part of its outer hull sent out from the explosion.

“I'm thinking that Mother got out through the first hole she put in the ship,” Kyle said.

“But still, she wouldn't have escaped the full force of the final explosion,” Jaric said.

“True. But if she had any shields at all... maybe. Just maybe.”

A tiny light began flashing on the sensor console. Minstrel magnified it. A dark hull, blackened and damaged and completely covered with the effects of carbon-scoring, materialized.

The sensor reading resolved into a tiny manta-ray silhouette as it continued to sail silently away into the darkness, still surrounded by fragments of the T'kaan ship, the effects of the mighty explosion its only source of power.

“I am getting some kind of a reading,” Minstrel said excitedly. “Barely.”

Silence, thick and pressing, came upon the watchers.

“I've adjusted my sensors, and we are heading for her now. And, I've got definite readings of electronic activity—faint, but there.”

“She's in total diagnostic mode. I bet'cha,” Jaric said as he jumped and grabbed Kyle by the shoulders.