Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 67
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
Yeung both resented and understood the orders; she was being kept out of action – and worse, behind a defensive shield – because of the Queen’s disfavour. But likewise it was necessary for the bulk of their fleet to be upgraded and properly integrated; the duty to oversee the operation fell to her; but precedent said the Grandmaster’s place was out in the Black, hunting and fighting the Zohor alongside the Queen.
“I confirm receipt of the orders,” Yeung said, hoping she’d kept the resignation from her voice, “Rebroadcast the Queen’s message to all ships. Have Comm transmit to the ‘Boros my best wishes and good hunting.”
“As you say, Grandmaster.” Bergeron said, before the viewing window closed. With no emergency calling her back to the Command Deck, Yeung rinsed out her lenses and pulled the blanket tight around her head. Still in her uniform she was just contemplating how much more formal Bergeron had become since she’d been promoted when she was asleep.
♦♦♦
The Ouroboros uncoupled from the Mother ship, breaking orbit with Midian and Heruba as it rose in an ascending curve away from the system and navigation plotted the Q-field solution to Bloom’s Point. The balance of Phenex El-Ahur Starships around Midian rose with another five hundred thousand of their Jibrail sister-ships, flying into formation around the Ouroboros.
From the Command Deck’s observation bay Jack Benedict watched the Armada form up. He sat in a booth, marvelling at everything the lenses he was still getting used to wearing showed him. Contact lenses had been generally consigned to the past back on the Old Earth in Benedict’s time. Gene therapy and laser procedures had all but eliminated the need for contact lenses or eyeglasses. The necessity of wearing lenses in the eyes had been revived once the technology to reduce a view display to the size of a contact lens became available. It took getting used to the feeling of something stuck to your eyeball, of putting it there. But what it projected into Benedict’s eyes more than made up for the discomfort.
The Armada moved with a fluid grace, surrounding the Ouroboros and orienting themselves as they accelerated away from Heruba and towards the edge of the solar system. They were approaching the barrier between the Twin Systems and outside space. Benedict wondered if they’d experience any noticeable effects of passing through the shield the Jibrail had set up around the Twin Systems, but they didn’t. The navigation crew pit confirmed crossing the barrier and Fleet Tracking confirmed when the last of their ships crossed several minutes later. There were no reports of Zohor activity within a thousand light years of their position.
“Navigation and all ships, plot and make the jump to Bloom’s Point when ready,” Baxter called from the Bridge.
“Commodore, we now have Q-Field jump solution plotted for Bloom’s Point.” Baxter’s Navigations Chief reported, “Standing by to send coordinates to Helm Control.”
“Send to Helm and make the jump when ready.”
“Helm standing by,”
Deep within its belly the Ouroboros’ power core thrummed a subsonic note through its initiation chamber. The micro miniature fissure between realspace and the Q-field grew by an angstrom’s size as the ship drew power to make the jump.
“Jump drive charged,” Roshenko Aqualina said from Systems and Operations.
“All ships report charged and ready for Q-field jump,” Communications reported.
“Helm, Conn: coordinates received; course plotted and laid in. Jumping in five…four…three…two…one!”
♦♦♦
So far, Yeung found her fellow officers learning more from the former Jibrail El-Ahur than they were teaching them. The Jibrail armada’s ability to slip in among Zohor ships was an unthinkable tactical advantage…that they’d learned to turn the Zohor’s own identification beacons against them was an act of simple and sublime genius. Not to mention Jibrail weapons systems were deadly works of art. There was an elegant craftsmanship to their particle beam weapons wholly unlike anything the Phenex had ever encountered.
Combined with tactical time travel they would develop a new means of fighting the Zohor; and with the Queen of Hope’s intimate understanding of the Zohor communications and decision-engine system and network, Yeung knew they now had an unprecedented advantage. The Fleetyard was refitting as many of the Phenex Starfleet as it could at a time. Many ships’ Commanders were protesting or refusing the upgrades to their ships. Yeung knew she’d have to drop the hammer, force them into upgrading.
The upgrades wasn’t hard for the Caliburn; it simply analyzed the technology from the Jibrail fleet and grew analogous systems into its skin. These were not Jibrail implants but the ‘Burns’ own integrations. But the Caliburn was one of only a handful of captured Phenex El-Ahur starships that were partially biological; most of the rest of the Starfleet would need physical, mechanical upgrades.
Studying the Jibrail war ships, knowing what they could do and just how well they could do it, Yeung knew that merging their fleets and refitting the existing Phenex Starfleet was essential. But she couldn’t afford to face another rebellion; she was walking a thin line right now with the Commanders of her fleet.
After a long moment of contemplative silence, Grandmaster Yeung Acshah picked up the nearest handy object and hurled it across the room and into the wall.
“Fucking politics!”
♦♦♦
The fleet deployed from Bloom’s Point to the rendezvous had already been outfitted with the technological advances made by the Jibrail. They lacked the uniformity of the ships of Gabrielle’s clan, but the influence of Jibrail technology upon them was undeniable.
Commodore Baxter Vincent, Captain Heihachi Daniel, Benedict Jack and the Queen of Hope studied the composite image of the approaching fleet.
“They will serve as excellent training vessels for the Midianite El-Ahur,” Gabrielle said, “And they will be serviceable in war. Given the numbers we are about to face and the size of the targets we will engage, our advantage of invisibility and surprise will be limited, even using time travel by the means the Phenex El-Ahur developed under your future self’s tutelage, Voyager.”
“If I live to have a future self it means we succeed.”
“If you live to have a future self, yes,” Gabrielle said, “But your having a future doesn’t guarantee it will end in our past. Nor does it tell us what price your future will cost us.”
“It’s already costing me too high a price for my liking,” Benedict growled.
“As you say,” the Hope replied, turning back to the display before them.
“Do we have enough crew for those ships?” Baxter asked.
“The Sentinel has advised us that the ships are largely automated; little to no crew will be required for them to operate in combat.” The Hope replied, “And the Ehlo-Bene of Bloom’s Point has turned out many fine, new Officers.”
She turned to Benedict as he looked out at the Jibrail ships in their steadily-growing fleet and answered his question before it left his mouth:
“We manufacture most of our own ships. Usually simply by infecting a host Zohor swarm with a series of adapted reconfiguration commands.”
“We took heavy losses after what happened to your Mother,” Baxter said, “It’s like the Zohor knew to come at us…like they knew when Her shield around Midian failed.”
“Then they are equally aware that a new shield is in place,” Gabrielle said, “At least, as aware as such things can be. We will bolster our numbers from within the Jibrail ranks. Then the war will move forward.”
“Do we have a priority target?” Baxter asked.
“We have several,” Gabrielle replied. “It’s time we discussed strategy with the Sentinel and its network.”
Baxter nodded, “As you say, my Queen. May I ask what our first target will be?”
“A Command Router Station,” Gabrielle said, “One that supplies Zohor Command Relay Nodes across the local galactic mega cluster. We’ll set up a defensive perimeter while a team infiltrates the Router to trace signals and locations for shipyards within the cluster.”
“That implies heavy casualties,”
“By the time the Zohor know we’re there, we’ll have already taken over the station. And once in, the Command Router Station will send its default death-order: swarm and protect priority system points until the network can be re-deployed.” Gabrielle changed the image on the display, showing a wider map of the known Zohor Command Relay Nodes and Command Router Stations. She traced the contour of one of the routers and it vanished from the display.
“Before the Zohor turn from defending to destroying the Command Router Station, we’ll have gotten what we came for and destroyed the station ourselves. At that point any Zohor that don’t simply go inert will become about as autonomous as they ever get: Carrying out a default order to leave and take a defensive posture around the next nearest critical system base.”
“And then all we have to do is follow their back trail,” Benedict said.
Gabrielle smiled, “Exactly, Voyager. But when we strike the Command Router Station, once they realize what we have done, the Zohor will also deploy unimaginably overwhelming numbers to destroy us and our new prize.”
“You say that, knowing what we faced at the Maelstrom?” Baxter Vincent asked.
Gabrielle cocked her head when she looked at him, her expression unreadable and unsettling.
“I was there, Commodore. I assure you: What the Zohor deployed against your incursion into the Maelstrom is equivalent to what they would deploy to protect their Command Router Station. Factories can be rebuilt; Taking out a router station would kill millions of swarms. Without it the crippled Zohor are essentially dead. And they know what we did at the Maelstrom; they’ll only be more aggressive with us, now.”
“Such action forces the hand of the Zohor,” Benedict said, “First they’ll have to redistribute the network by either redeploying an old or assembling a new Command Router Station. Then they’ll move in to defend the surviving routers – more precisely they’ll be deployed there – by the millions, exposing one or more of those installations by surrounding them and up the line until you get to what? The Master Control Program?”
“The Zohor would never trust all the decision making to a single system,” Gabrielle replied, “There are a number of networked Decision Engines out there. We will identify each of them and then strike them all.”
“Simultaneously?” Benedict asked, incredulous.
Gabrielle chuckled, “Ideally, but no. A few at time, to be sure; picking away at them when and where we can. But as we destroy each tier of Zohor controls, we must improve our weapons and fleet capacity. We must continue to evolve until the Zohor are crushed by our sheer power alone.”
Benedict studied Her, and She knew what he was going to say before he did:
“When you use the word ‘evolve’, I get the feeling you aren’t just talking about our ships and our weapons.”
“As you say Voyager,” Gabrielle replied, “I mean each and every El-Ahur must likewise evolve, must become more than they are now. By the end of this we must all be as Gods, so that we can cast the Zohor and the Nimbus aside.”
War is confusion; War is violence. It is Fire and Death from every direction. War is the determination to destroy. War is the determination to survive. It is endless violence between brief periods of silence and grief. War always comes at a great cost in both lives and souls. The first casualty in War is not the Truth, but Reason.
TWENTY-THREE
TRIUMPHANTLY, INTO THE FIRE
The Zohor Command Relay Node was on the far edge of twin columns of clouds, constellations and darkness that made up their local galactic cluster; billions of light-years from Midian, not that such distances had any meaning to an attack force coming from the Q-field. Unaware and unable to know what was to come, the Command Relay Node bounced signals off the holographic layers of the cosmos’ membrane, to and from millions of Zohor swarms across the cluster.
The first probes had located its presence from a hundred light-year distance; smaller probes were sent in to confirm is presence, though this was done strictly for the sake of protocol: The Shekhina Mehdi already knew it was there. As did the Grandmaster; though from his perspective it was a matter of military history. Now, he reflected, he’d finally get to begin living – or reliving – that history.
The Ouroboros was returning to Bloom’s Point for scheduled resupply when the probes confirmed what the Queen of Light and Sorrow had foreseen. The Shekhina Mehdi, Grandmaster Benedict and Commodore Marley Stringfellow sat in the alcove looking over the data. Allison caught a stray thought from the Grandmaster’s mind wondering about Marley’s fate, remembering another Commodore in command of the bridge of the Ouroboros; a memory, She understood, from the future.
“You’re the expert, Grandmaster,” She said, taking advantage of his future memories, “What can we expect?”
“Heavy resistance; being Superwoman and all, I know You think You could manage by Yourself, but You’d be wrong. The only way You could respond to such an overwhelming attack would lead to the destruction of the node and the failure of Your mission. Settle instead for leading the charge. A division of Heavily Armoured Macronauts running interference for You will suffice. Of course, I’ll be leading them. You’re nearly indestructible and prone to doing what You want so feel free to clear the path and find what we need. We’ll keep the bastards off Your back.
“The Zohor will use Sweepers; meter tall hunter-killers that are bad news all the way around Rumour has it You vaporized a bunch of them as they entered Midian’s upper atmosphere right after You cleared it so You’re probably already familiar with them. Expect chemical warfare; as in acids designed to eat through our suits, radiation attacks, spike traps, crush-rooms, explosive defence zones...you imagine it, the Zohor will probably have it. I’d advise against the full-frontal assault you’re planning; send the incursion team first on the smallest ship possible. Keep the big ships out of the fight until the Zohor engage; have them ready to jump into One CI at Your command.
“Once the node is penetrated Zohor swarms will zero in on the station. They’ll go for two reasons: to take out any invading force and then to destroy the command node if either they or the stations’ internal security systems are unable to deal with the intruders. Which means as soon as You start tearing things apart, the swarms will attack the station en masse; the clock will be ticking no matter how powerful You are. This is the first run we’ll be making on this high-value a target; we can expect to take a lot of damage and a lot of casualties even with You at the head of the pack. But the information we’ll gain from the systems within are too valuable.”
“How are the nodes laid out?”
“Onion-like layers leading to a central core. Innermost layer’s the power system; outermost is the signal array. There’s no central command unit or anything like that; but the computer systems are interconnected. There are several transmitter relays throughout the node; they don’t necessarily have to be near the outer hulls. You have to get about five layers in to find a systems junction that connects directly with the processing cores. The trick isn’t getting there, it’s holding the ground until You complete an uplink of everything you can.”
“Will we succeed?”
The Grandmaster shrugged, “This sort of attack was or will be common in my time. As this is the first time something like this is going to be attempted relative to the El-Ahur of the Now, there’s actually a high risk of failure. Which is why it’s best You and I both be on the incursion mission; You said it Yourself: I’m not destined to die here, today. That means I can inflict a lot of damage when we get there.”
“What would you recommend, tactically?” a new voice asked.
The Grandmaster squinted as another figure joined them. The Sentinel from Bloom’s Point formed in the air; they were in communications range with the station now and as per standard procedure the ship’s log had been downloaded to the Station once communications link was established. In range of Bloom’s Point’s Comm sensors, the Sentinel could project itself to them.
