Chronicles of the Aeons War, page 95
part #3 of The Omniverse Series
“Well, that’s helpful,” the two Benedicts uttered irritably, simultaneously. The Sentinel observed them both with enthusiastic curiosity.
“You’re both so alike,” the Sentinel said, “Yet so different at the same time…”
“We’re essentially the same person,” Ghost Six said, “Just from different eras.”
“But I’ve already catalogued so many differences between your two timelines based on my time studying your data crystal and my own knowledge of past history.”
“Relative to you,” Benedict said, “Relative to me, nothing you remember or that you,” he said, gesturing to his future/alternate self’s hologram, “may have experienced has actually happened. I’m my own person, in my own time.”
“And none of us can escape the Universe’s design.” Ghost Six said.
Benedict turned to the Sentinel, “I don’t really get that philosophical in my old age, do I?”
“I think the Sentinel’s right: we hate in others what we hate of ourselves.” Ghost Six answered, before the Sentinel could.
“It is as he says,” the Sentinel said to Benedict, “Though you should take a small amount of comfort in knowing that your personality and identity will survive your presupposed death, if only in the form of the data that I’ve uploaded.”
“Yeah, I’d rather just not die.” Benedict said.
Ghost six nodded his agreement. The Sentinel studied them momentarily, its alien computer mind forming a billion thoughts and more before it answered mere seconds later, “That’s what we’re striving for; the best of all scenarios.”
“But we have no way of determining if we’re on the right track.” Benedict said.
“As your Ghost pointed out, the marked differences between your time streams would indicate that there is at least the possibility – if not the probability – that your presumed fate can be avoided.”
“So basically neither of you even know if I’ll live or die at the end of this.” Benedict said.
“At which end?” Ghost Six asked.
The Sentinel added, “Everything dies or somehow comes to an end. What you mean is that we don’t know if you’ll survive the Aeons War, or not.”
“I may be dead, I may be alive,” Ghost Six said, “Now I know what Schrodinger’s Cat felt like. What matters, Jack, is whether and how you survive what’s ahead of you.”
Benedict addressed the Sentinel: “He learned that sort of nit-picky philosophizing from you, didn’t he?”
The Sentinel seemed to gesture apologetically, “He is running in my operating system,” he said, “So it does stand to reason.”
“Thank you,” Ghost Six said, “It’s nice to be appreciated, even if it is posthumously.”
“That wasn’t so much appreciation as it was statement of fact,” the Sentinel replied, “You are an artificial intelligence constructed from the digital reproduction of a living being. Neither posthuman or program, you exist and react relative to how you are allowed to operate within a given system.”
Ghost Six looked at Benedict, “If, for no other reason that you’d actually begin to understand what the Sentinel’s saying, I hope you don’t die.”
“Christ,” Benedict muttered.
“We live in complex times,” the Sentinel said. It was the only thing the three of them seemed inclined to agree upon that afternoon.
♦♦♦
The chimes woke her from sleep. Yeung Acshah sat up in bed, bleary, searching for her lenses. She found the bottle in the drawer on her bedside and dropped two drops in each eye. The lenses quickly formed and configured themselves and she answered the call.
Roshenko Aqualina appeared in her field of view, still compiling somewhat as the lenses went through final adjustment. Yeung had rinsed out her old pair before going to bed and hadn’t bothered to reapply them, wanting to give her eyes the night off. “’Lina, what can I do for you?”
Her old friend shrugged; of course, Yeung knew; she hadn’t expected the call, but she knew. She just wanted to hear it for herself. “Chief Roshenko?”
“Well, Grandmaster, my understanding is that the Queen and the Commodore are taking all ships into the Proving Grounds tomorrow. I understand that once Meta-Fleet manoeuvre training, drills and simulations have been run, you’ll then be going straight into the Last Battle against the Zohor.”
“That’s right; that’s the plan. Though I still hate the name the War Council chose; I thought Operation Hydra made a better name for the Campaign.”
Roshenko chuckled, “That Campaign is nevertheless the reason I’m calling. I’ve been involved with this war since I was born. I don’t mean to sit out the Last Battle against the Zohor. If that offer still stands, Grandmaster–”
“Report to my Command Deck at six hundred-thirty hours tomorrow morning Systems Chief. You’ll have to drill your orientation of the Caliburn while we’re under way.”
“And your Current Sys?”
Yeung shrugged, “I’ll shuffle him to Gunnery Command and my Gunny to Flight Deck Ops. My Flight Deck Chief’s been pushing to do some heavy lifting during the forthcoming Campaign. She’ll be happier rotating through the Repair and Respite Instance work-bays than on the Flight Deck refuelling fighters and recharging weapons batteries. This’ll work out just fine.”
“Glad to see you don’t have to do too much shuffling.”
“You’re one of my oldest, dearest friends. You don’t want to be left out of the Last Battle. I’m the fucking Grandmaster; if I say I have a spot for you on my ship, I goddamn well have a spot for you on my ship.”
“Thanks, old friend.”
“Hey, we have to watch each other’s backs; no one else will.”
♦♦♦
Heihachi Daniel opened communications with the Harbourmaster, “Harbour, Ouroboros requesting departure clearance for the Proving Grounds.”
At last, though not going into combat, the Starfleet was ready to begin training manoeuvres to prepare to engage in the actual battle against the Five Decision Engines.
“Departure clearance granted, Ouroboros. Proceed to Section Zero-One-One-A-Two-B-Three and standby for fleet grouping.”
“Confirmed, Harbourmaster,” Heihachi said, turning his attention to the Navigation, “Set your heading for section Zero-One-One-A-Two-B-Three.”
“Ouroboros, Harbourmaster: your Fleet Group are now likewise leaving the Point for the rendezvous.”
“Confirmed.” Baxter Vincent said, “Conn, Helm: Make ready for jump to Proving Grounds.”
“Jump to Proving Grounds confirmed, aye,” came the reply from the Helm Pit. “Standing by for Jump Command.”
Heihachi turned to Baxter Vincent who confirmed, “Harbourmaster, Ouroboros departing Bloom’s Point for fleet rendezvous at Section Zero-One-One A-Two B-Three.”
“Ouroboros, Harbourmaster. You are cleared for departure.”
“Conn, Helm: Ahead, point one-zero space-normal speed.” Heihachi Daniel ordered. Space-Normal Speed was ninety-nine-point nine-five percent the speed of light; significant for the distance travelled per-second, but only within relatively short-range travel. One tenth of the speed of light, or point one-zero space-normal was nevertheless an extremely high velocity.
Anything above the speed of Light would be expressed in terms of Time Warp or Q-Field Navigation and was likewise calculated by different branches of physics than relativity, the speed of light or the cosmological constant.
“Helm, Conn: Course plotted and ready to engage.”
“Conn, Helm.” Heihachi Daniel replied, “Clear Bloom’s Point and stand by for Q-Field jump to the Proving Grounds.”
“Helm, Conn: port cleared; standing by for Q-Field jump at Conn’s discretion.”
“Make your way to the rendezvous and hold at station-keeping until the fleet has gathered.” Baxter Vincent ordered.
The Ouroboros accelerated along a dedicated space-lane that led directly away from Bloom’s Point, coming to rest millions of kilometres from the Point, watching as thousands of ships continued to stream from the massive station taking station around the knotted, pitted ovoid that was the Queen’s Flagship.
“Standing by for Q-field Jump,” Heihachi reported. One by one the ships reported in, indicating their full readiness for Combat Training Operations. At last from aboard the Caliburn, Grandmaster Yeung Acshah gave her Word and the two Starfleets of the Queen of Hope’s Armada made the Q-Field jump to the Proving Grounds.
“And now we begin our true test of the El-Ahur.” Gabrielle said, from Her Command Deck alcove aboard the ‘Boros, “All ships, stand by to run training programs.”
Gabrielle watched them vanish and re-appear in a slightly different spacetime, not quite all the way to the Proving Grounds.
Commodore Baxter Vincent watched as the last of the ships under his command gathered fifteen light-hours from the Proving Grounds, “All ships stand by to begin Meta-Fleet Formation training. Your navigation officers and commanders all have their Q-Field coordinate sets; we’ll begin with a one hundred instance fleet group.”
Baxter looked around his Bridge, at the expectant faces of his Crew and out to the tactical display of the fleet surrounding them on all sides. “Once we’ve drilled Meta-Fleet formations for the next several weeks we will begin war-games; Starfleet versus Starfleet. Each and every instance of every ship will be expected to do whatever it can to defeat its enemy.”
♦♦♦
They spent several months of real-time drilling the complex manoeuvres necessary to tactical time travel and Meta-Fleet combat warfare before they began their War Games. And when the War Games started, it was several more long months of real-time, testing their mettle.
The War Games began. First the Caliburn Starfleet took the Zohor side, using multiple Combat Instances to bolster their numbers while the Ouroboros’ Starfleet used their Combat Instances first traditionally, and then as a meta-fleet of multiple, simultaneously-attacking Combat Instances against the Grandmaster’s “Zohor” forces. Then they switched roles and the Queen’s Fleet became the Zohor, while the Grandmaster took the role of the El-Ahur. Her long years of experience among the Zohor meant that Gabrielle’s “enemy” forces easily defeated Yeung Acshah’s during the first several rounds of fighting. They fought simulated combat against one another, trading roles repeatedly until they had mastered the fighting forms that would lead to victory in the Last Battle.
The two fleets had been in the Proving Grounds for a little less than a year of real-time. From their perspective, however, the men and women of the El-Ahur had, because of the multiple Combat-Instance and Meta-Fleet training, drills and War Games, been there for twelve years.
♦♦♦
When the War Games ended the massive Queen’s Armada returned to Bloom’s Point space and began to build and supply, through multiple Combat-Instances, the massive Meta-Fleet that would be required to take on the Decision Engines. On the eve of the last Battle, the men and women of the El-Ahur Starfleet met in the Gathering of the Dream. Gabrielle addressed them all, “It is better to be prepared for a disaster that might not occur, than to be unprepared for whatever minor incidents do. With the Zohor, it is doubly so. They’re a Hive Mind; their ships only an extension of the Decision Engines themselves.” Gabrielle said, looking over the assembly, “But in spite of the flaws in their tactics, that makes them no less dangerous, no less deadly. We don’t know what The Zohor Decision Engines can do, but we’ve learned how to defend ourselves as best as we can. But even I cannot imagine what will come when we attack the five Decision Engines at once.
“Whatever happens,” Gabrielle said, “We must accept the outcome. That does not mean surrender to the Zohor. It means learning how to transform an individual defeat into a collective victory for the El-Ahur. This is an undertaking we will not be able to execute until we have earned the Absolute Trust of all El-Ahur; Phenex, Suphia, Gesheol, Hadosh and Jibrail. Each of us is a Finger on the Hand of the Queen. We must learn to make that hand into a fist, and we must learn to use that fist to strike the Zohor as one. To do any less will mean nothing short of our own deaths at the hands of the Zohor.”
Gabrielle looked upon the faces and Minds of everyone in the Gathering. They needed Her assurance, they needed Her to be the Shekhina Devi; they needed Her to lead them, for without Her, she understood, the El-Ahur were well and truly lost.
“This will be the Last Battle,” She said, “Live or die. Either we or the Zohor will be ended. I intend that the Zohor are erased from this universe. And I have looked down every path into the future…down every possible outcome of every action before us. I have chosen a path through that will ensure that victory. It is not without sacrifice…but if we follow what I have foreseen, if we prevail in this endeavour, it will mean that one hundred million years of Zohor destruction will at last come to an end.”
As the cheer went up, verbally, psychically, Gabrielle kept Herself silent on just how difficult that path to full victory was…and how narrow. Events now had to unfold with complex and infallible precision. There was nothing in Human or Posthuman History that Gabrielle could recall detailing how such deliberate Rube Goldberg event chains ever worked out. And yet not only did She know it was possible, She had promised Her People that it would be so.
“What the fuck am I doing?” Gabrielle asked Herself, when She was at last alone.
A significant victory against an enemy accomplishes much beyond the simple tactical advantage given to the winning opponent. It rallies the morale of the victors and forces the defeated to change tactics, strategies…to evolve or face downfall.
THIRTY-ONE
UNRELENTING INEVITABILITIES
“Tactical, Conn.”
The El-Ahur had jumped into the heart of known Zohor-controlled space and spread their fleet across fifty light-years before deploying sensor drones to a distance ten times that covered by their ships alone.
“Conn, Tactical; go ahead.” Grandmaster Benedict replied from the Bridge.
“Sir, long range probes are returning data now: known Zohor Command Nodes have been redeployed. The fleet is approximately three light years from the periphery of the new frontier.”
“Alert all commands,” Commodore Baxter said, “Make sure they remain beyond the range of the Zohor.”
The Chief Tactician nodded and relayed the data to Communications.
The Commodore turned to the Grandmaster, “They’ve rallied.”
Benedict only nodded. Baxter turned his attention back toward Tactical Command. “Conn, Tac: Begin active scans for Zohor groups and swarms. Likewise, send the Command Node redeployment data to my station.”
A moment later Bax was studying a three-dimensional map of the redeployed Zohor net.
“How’s it look, Commodore?” Benedict asked.
“Even though they’re guarding a smaller area of space the current net seems spread a little wide,” Baxter said as he studied the map, “I’m not seeing the sort of transmission overlap the Zohor relied on before.”
“No; but if we’ve spotted it you can be sure the Decision Engines are aware of it. And that means they’ll have developed some kind of workaround. Likewise, given that the area of space they occupy has been sheared away, we can expect the Zohor to be more aggressive, more violent in their attacks.”
Baxter nodded to the Grandmaster, “Tactical sent updated data from the probes,” he said, “It appears that there are more Zohor stationed in the weakened areas of their new network; either being used to physically bolster signal integrity by acting as relays or as an actual tactical defensive system.”
