Chapter 320: (Sidelines) (1/2)
She had left behind the Ancient System. Stripped it of eggs, larvae, slave caste, resources, and every iota of anything that she could load aboard the great armada she had put together. It had been over two years since the Rebellious One and the feral intellect had invaded her system. A year since her last attempt at sending out minor queens to create a web of systems for her to begin to bring about her will on a universe that had forgotten her people.
She had armed the ships heavily, crewed them with loyal Speakers, Warriors, and Thinkers, all served by the servitor caste. The guns were the best she could make, the drives the most powerful, with the densest battlescreens and the thickest armor.
Her magnificence was in the middle of the largest ship, slightly larger than a Goliath Class Harvester, surrounded by heavy armor. Her personal quarters could survive the breakup of her ship, to provide her with a heavily armored escape pod with powerful jump drives and sublight engines.
She left the Ancient System behind, stripped down to bare rock and magma, as her fleet engaged the jump drives.
The last Omniqueen headed toward the far end of the Orion-Cygnus Galactic Spur, away from the ancient battlefields, toward where her ancestors had sent ships fleeing the Great Rebellion.
The feral had to have come from that direction. She knew she would be facing a powerful civilization, capable of resisting her.
She had allowed several seers to be grown, put them in predictive states, and listened carefully to what they saw.
The Omniqueen had been full of wroth when she heard their twisting contorted dreams.
Fire and blood. Burning planets and extinquished stars. Stellar systems vanishing in the blink of an eye. Great ancient machines tearing apart destiny and fate.
She had a name now.
Not for just the ferals, but of all the players.
The Sundered Ones, allies of the ferals.
The Liberated Ones, again, more feral allies.
The Children of Food and Smoke, again, allies.
The Servants of the Ancient Foe. Of course they had survived.
The Enemy Who Came Yesterday to Today From Tomorrow. Did the Great War extinguish anyone?
Finally, the ferals.
It was a strange name. Just screaming it had killed nearly a hundred seers.
The Confederacy.
The seers had claimed that if she pitted her unending might against this Confederacy then darkness would fall.
In her rage, she had devoured the last handful of seers.
It was a stupid name, for an inferior people.
The massive fleet of ships supporting the Last Omniqueen oriented, ran the computations, and activated the jump drives.
The system was left empty.
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Dreams of Something More was a diplomat, and she considered herself a good one. A three foot high golden Mantid, she had found herself leaving behind diplomacy to embark on some kind of strange quest, following the guidance of the diplomatic team's seer Sees That Which May or May Not Be.
”This is where her coordinates led us?” Dreams asked Captain Awgwark.
The large Rigellian nodded from where she sat in her command chair, one elbow on her knee, her chin in her hand, posing unconsciously as she stared at the stellar system the small diplomatic fleet had arrived in.
”Yes. Right down to our hyperspace exit vector,” the Captain said. She looked at Rear-Admiral Loganette, who was virtually present. The Rear Admiral was down in the Fleet Combat Information Center, in the center of the ship, armored just as heavily as Dreams' own quarters.
”I am not sure what led us here, but here we are,” the female Terran Descent Human said. She turned slightly, looking at someone who wasn't present on the hologram, then back to Dreams and Captain Awgwark. ”The system is dead, without a doubt.”
The holo-tank in the middle of the bridge flickered, the image of the fleet's twelve ships and their status vanishing to be replaced by an image of the stellar system. A half dozen planets, all barren rocks with no atmosphere, all six of them with rings, but not a single satellite.
”This system has been mined into oblivion,” Rear-Admiral Loganette said. ”The second and fourth planets have orbital strike evidence.”
”How long ago?” Words Spoken We Fear asked, his jet black carapace gleaming in the light. He was technically a communication specialist and translator for Dreams of Something More but when this mission had gone sideways he'd embraced his actual profession of intelligence gathering and analysis.
The Rear-Admiral looked at another speaker, then turned back. ”Over a hundred million years ago. Consistent with Precursor Autonomous War Machine combat.”
Words Spoken We Fear, who usually went by the nickname Speaks, leaned forward and looked at the image. He turned and looked at the hologram of the Admiral and the Captain both. ”May I? I will need to take control of the scanning systems you put in place.”
”By all means,” the Admiral said, waving her hand.
”Of course,” the Captain said.
Dreams watched with naked curiosity. It wasn't often she got to see one of the black mantid combat caste go to work, especially doing data analysis.
He was examining the ancient orbital weapon strikes, laying out maps of the planets, doing reconstruction work quickly and efficiently. Dreams could see the datalink implant wrapped around the back of his head had all five lights burning a hard red.
It gave her the shivers and reminded her that every Terran Descent Human had three red lights beneath the skin at the base of their skull.
She made small talk with the Captain and Admiral, mostly inquiring about the health and welfare of the crew. They asked about the discomfort of having to have the psychic shielding turned up so high as well as Mr. Rings' health.
Finally, after nearly two hours, Words leaned back on his back two legs and nodded to himself.
”It's the best I can do. I could do a better job, but it would take me a week or two of scanning,” he stated.
Floating in the tank was eleven planets, three of them gas giants. The eight planets had moons, two of them had two moons.
”This is an estimation, based on vapor belts, thickness of planetary debris rings, and some astrophysicist programs I pulled out of the archives,” Words said. ”Now, I can't show you the planetary orbits at the time of the attack, but I can show you which planets were hit first and which order the hits took place in.”
Dreams watched with fascination as the impacts started registering. The moons winked out, and 'smaller' hits from lunar debris started pock marking the planets but quickly stopped.
”As you can see, while the orbital bodies broke up, they were quickly pounded into smaller debris, giving us the rings,” he stated. ”Now, pay particular attention to the orbital strike order and patterns.”
Dreams watched at the orbital strikes hit.
”Now, this is a rough estimation based on overlap and fusing of surface material at the bottom of the craters,” Words said.
The simulation went on, then suddenly stopped. Then, roughly all at once, each planet took multiple heavy hits. Three planets broke up.
”This was a Precursor attack, but...” Words paused for effect, ”It was not just the Precursor Autonomous War Machines making the attack.”
”What gives you that idea?” the Admiral asked.
”The hits. They are mathematically wasteful and imprecise. This was done to smash a civilization on the various planets, then the planets were borderline planet cracked, their atmosphere either siphoned or blown away, and the system denuded of any possible use,” Words said.
Captain Awgwark nodded. ”You're right. The early hits were sloppy, almost random.”
”So this system is a victim of the original Precursor War?” Dreams asked.
”More than that, Madame Diplomat,” the Admiral said, her voice intent.
”Oh?” Dreams said.
”This is before the AWM's rebelled against their creators. This is one of the battles when you Precursors were fighting one another instead of the AWMs,” the Admiral said. She looked up. ”When you are ready, the next hyperspace jump is ready.”
”I am ready,” Dreams said. She turned and looked at Words. ”You?”
”I have seen enough,” Words said. He shook his head. ”I can tell you one thing.”
”What?” Dreams asked.