Chapter 428 (1/2)

The battle had been raging for hours, despite the fact that the majority of the combatants were still in the maneuvering phases that had, traditionally, been the opening gambits of any space battle. For every combatant but one geometry and time had always been the initial strategies and weapons. Simple geometry could determine a victor before a single missile was fired in many cases.

Except one combatant had always said ”I really want to stab that guy, but he's way over there” whenever someone was out of range and had devoted enormous resources, both material and intellectual, to creating a way to reach out and touch someone no matter how far away they were.

Which was why the Terran guns were pounding the Atrekna lines from literally five light hours away, the rounds hitting within a few seconds of the guns firing. C+ Cannons, C+ Missile Pods, Subspace torpedoes, superstring compressor cannons, temporal resonance cannons, Hammer Drones, Deadspace Particle Cannons, all of them moved thousands of times the speed of light through the their respective dimensions before reentering standard reality to deliver shock and awe.

The Atrekna reeled back from the Terran's fire, only to be hit by the PAWM in the Oort Cloud, who were only a light minute away instead of hours. Caught between the two, the members of the Quorum reached out to their fellows in the First System and did something previously unheard of. They requested reinforcements.

The Atrekna nobility in the First System scoffed in disbelief that the Quorum could be in trouble and overrode the minds of a Conclave to get a look for themselves.

Half of them died when a barrage of missiles detonated not antimatter, nuclear, or atomic warheads, but instead drove massive 'spikes' into the fourth dimension, anchoring it, disrupting the Atrekna attempt to manipulate time to their own advantage.

In a panic the Atrekna of the First System reached out to the Prime System, calling for aid. Nearly the entire Atrekna fleet had deployed to that system, only a Prime Warship and a handful of ancillary vessels left behind.

And they were being destroyed.

The leaders of the Prime System took control of a Conclave, opened their 'eyes', and gazed at the battlefield dimensions away.

IT ALL BELONGS TO US! they whispered to the entire system, phasic energy rippling out from the Prime Warship with such thickness that it was visible to the naked eye.

COME AND TAKE IT! was roared back. An animalistic, primitive, savage roar of rage, wrath, hatred, and cold cruelty. Worse than it had been two thousand years ago on Hesstla. Colder, crueler, more malevolent. Cold logic layered with white hot fury all intermixed with a murderous intent made all the more frightening by the thick layer of desire to reach out and rip and tear at things with their own hands.

It caused the Prime System to recoil, which was all that saved them as another volley of fire hit the Atrekna ships. Even the munitions screamed in hate and wrath, somehow bellowing their rage through the ripples of phasic energy that was laden with cruel intentions.

It took only a short while, years in the Prime System, minutes in the Growing System, for the Atrekna to make their decision, man the ships, and go to the rescue of the Atrekna trapped and being hammered on in the Growing System.

They reached out with their power and opened a wormhole up through the dimensions, reaching for the Growing System and the whirling nightmare of space combat going on.

The Atrekna aboard the Prime Ship felt cold satisfaction. The ferals were clever, not yet regressed, but even they could not stand against the full might of the Atrekna.

The leader of the Conclave, surrounded by the lavender nimbus of his own power, glared at the feral ships, willing them to feel his hate.

He found that he hated the ferals even more than he hated the Herdlings. One of the Conclave had come up with a way to negate the Herdlings.

It had worked before, it would work again.

The leader of the Quorum felt the leader of one of the remaining Conclave's suggestion and passed it to his fellows.

It was possible.

The Herdlings had obviously managed to overcome what had been done to them.

The Atrekna reached out, toward the Herdlings, with psychic tentacles. They could tell the temporal munitions would make it difficult, but it would not be impossible. There were enough Conclaves and enough Phasic Masters to allow the Atrekna to offset the Herdlings.

Aboard the ships of the Great Herd, they had no idea they were about to come under attack from an enemy light hours away as they shifted position, bringing the nCv Cannons back into play against the massive creatures erupting from the nearby gas giants.

”HIT THEM AGAIN!” Cu'udchu'ar bellowed out, pointing with his two left arms at the holotank next to LTC Cricket. ”ALL HHC SHIPS! FIRE!”

His memories shuddered, the neural overlay suddenly twisting and shifting in his head, trying to overwhelm his conscious thoughts. He shook his head, feeling another trickle of blood seep through his sinus cavity. He ignored it, turning to his Master Gunner, who was sitting and staring at his console.

”FIRE, CHROME PHILLIP STAB YOUR EYES, FIRE ALL GUNS!” he bellowed out. He didn't know what it meant, but he'd heard Terrans screech that phrase out.

He had to admit, it was satisfying.

His Master Gunnery Mate shook his head, looking back at his console.

”This isn't right. This isn't right at all,” Guns said, staring at the console. He unlocked the icons and trays, rapidly moving things around. He brought up new icons, assigning values to them, values that he suddenly needed to know.

”FIRE, DAMN YOU!” Cu'udchu'ar roared, rearing up to slam down his forward hooves, the armored vac-suit boots striking sparks from the deck.

”Reconfiguring, Most High,” Guns answered, all four hands moving quickly.

Seeing what was happening, LTC Cricket cocked an ear, listening to her subordinates and her peers. All over the Great Herd Armada the Lanaktallan had suddenly stopped working, freezing in mid-action. Some, nearly 12%, had suffered petite-mal seizures. Four percent had suffered grand-mal seizures, and 1.2% had suffered strokes, some so severe they were better classified as explosive cerebral hemmorages.

”Take over targeting and fire, I'll relay the Most High Cu'udchu'ar's targeting priorities,” Cricket transmitted, even as she 'rolled' a tray of warboi eggs to get them ready and give them a taste of the targeting codes coating her palm.

She felt the others respond.

”WORMHOLE DETECTED ON TEMPORAL LENSING!” Smith's gunnery station seven called out.

”Keep an eye on it. Bring up Admiral Thennis's Sucker Punch munitions and stand by to fire,” Admiral Smith ordered, stepping back from the holotank after slapping the emergency update button.

The Atrekna watched as their attack went to work, saw the fire of the Grazing Ones, the Herdlings, trickle off to a pittance, and felt cold satisfaction. They reached out again when the fire suddenly started again, mathematically precise and hellishly accurate, ripping and tearing at the Feralspawn.

Cu'udchu'ar felt another trickle on his thoughts, something touching his brain, and whirled around. ”Bring up another psychic shield, extend it two kilometers from the hull and crank it up till it sparks the hull!” he shouted at the shield specialist.

”Aye-aye, sir!” the shield specialist called out, his hands moving rapidly. He felt more confident suddenly, no longer fearing the battle, no longer feeling like he was at war with thoughts that weren't his own.