Part 42 (1/2)

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

”Full speed-into the opening below the horned prow.”

The s.h.i.+p's engines groaned and slowly responded. The Kraaqi battles.h.i.+p slipped inside and into the dense blackness.

”T'kaan wars.h.i.+ps 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-s.h.i.+p. 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 s.h.i.+ps 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

Chapter Forty-Seven.

The battle wasover.

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 s.h.i.+p, even though for centuries this same s.h.i.+p 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 wars.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps when the last two Great Horned s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps remained, scattered here and there among the sea of debris. The only cl.u.s.ter of active s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+p shuddered as debris collided with the weakened s.h.i.+elds, 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 wars.h.i.+ps, 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 s.h.i.+ps.

Minstrel followed the path of the Kraaqi/Hrono charge; following the unimaginable trail of destruction.

Sensors showed that the majority of dead s.h.i.+ps were T'kaan.

But there were so many broken Kraaqi s.h.i.+ps-and Hrono, too. But no Mewiis s.h.i.+ps in this section. Only at the left wing of the once proud battle line were there broken Mewiis wars.h.i.+ps and the few active ones that remained.

The small remnant left of the Mewiis s.h.i.+ps were now attempting rescue efforts, Minstrel noticed. There were many who had evacuated their shattered s.h.i.+ps 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 s.h.i.+ps. 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 s.h.i.+ps.

”Minstrel, please report status of rescue operation.”

Minstrel recognized the voice of Admiral Trakam in the comm signal that originated from the Hrono battles.h.i.+p.

”I have found a few more survivors. I am turning my s.h.i.+p toward the glowing hull of the Great Horned s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+ps in his attack on the Great Horned s.h.i.+p of the Third fleet, the smallest of the Great Horned s.h.i.+ps. He and his remaining s.h.i.+ps were beginning their own rescue efforts starting from that far-off position, far from the last Mewiis s.h.i.+ps.