Chapter Error and a Half - Nth Wave (2/2)
”It's a girl.”
”It's alive.”
”Your spawn is ready for maternal affection and skin to skin contact.”
”Cannister Contents 301834 Stable.”
It all began moving forward again, stopping and starting, jerking and stuttering.
Over and over Sammy saw points of her life where she'd made decisions, or someone else made a decision, that had affected her life. In several cases she saw where someone else's decision had impacted her without any difference she could have made.
Finally it all sped up, leading to hundreds of her standing next to one another at the particular moment the blast wave rolled over the flagship.
She watched the blast wave roll over hundreds, thousands, millions of ships as an uncountable number of herself, from ones barely different to ones of entirely different species, all slapped the emergency jump button for the entire fleet.
Everything turned inside out again.
-------------
”It has been two weeks, Most High,” one of his bridge crew said as the shift change went through. ”Perhaps the Terrans are not coming?”
”They will be here,” Cu'udchu'ar said confidently. ”They do not abandon their allies.”
”We stay,” The Great Grand Most High of Executors stated, his voice firm. ”Our own Armada has not yet completely managed to reform. Nearly a third of our vessels still are undergoing computer system repair.”
”The quantum molecular circuitry took heavy damage from the energy blast wave,” another tech said, turning to stare at the one who had spoken. ”We're disabling weapons to use computer components for drive and shielding systems.”
”The chances of the Terrans surviving is...” one of the analysts started to say.
”STATUS CHANGE!” one of the scanner techs called out.
Most High Cu'udchu'ar watched as four ships appeared on the scanners. The looked as if they were smoking, venting atmosphere, energy, and debris. Two of them were heavy, baroque looking, with skulls sporting open jaws and glowing eyes instead of the smooth prows that Cu'udchu'ar had seen before.
”Are they part of the fleet?” Cu'udchu'ar asked Cricket, who was staring at the ships through the sensors of the massive Lanaktallan super-dreadnought.
”Terran frigate weight. All four are squawking the correct transponder codes, but two are broadcasting the wrong names and are the wrong configuration,” she said slowly. ”ID codes, which are polyphasic algorithms, match up correctly.”
”Is that alarming?” the Executor asked.
Cricket shrugged. ”That was a serious energy blast, coming through a wormhole, which apparently led to a different dimension, with the leading edges of the blast moving faster than light. Who knows who we're going to get, but Confederate doctrine covers that kind of circumstance.”
The Executor pointed at the two ships that were different. ”These look more like the older ships you have referred to The Imperium of Wrath.”
Cricket nodded. ”Ship lines are the same, but I don't remember any ship profiles or classes like that.”
Another three ships suddenly appeared, one of them the ultra-massive Colossus class the Terrans used. The huge one was twisted slightly, the lines off, the armor scorched, blackened, and twisted.
”That one is pink and white with what appears to be crudely drawn feline faces upon it,” Cu'udchu'ar pointed out.
”The Neko-Marines, squawking the transpoder of the Let There Be Mercy hospital ship,” Cricket said, shaking her head. ”I think the Engrish-Emoji is the same name, but it's hard to tell.”
”Incoming communication,” a technician said.
”Put it on the holotank,” Cu'udchu'ar said.
Cu'udchu'ar had half expected the pristine immaculate and professional dress uniform of the Terran Confederate Space Force, or maybe even the armored vac suits. Instead it was heavy plated armor, a 'smiley face' in burning warsteel on the middle of the chest. The Captain had his helmet off, revealing a face that was half warsteel cybernetics.
”This is the Mercy of the Grave, do any of the Stallions of Great Defiant Herd read me?” the figure intoned in a deep sepulchral voice.
”We read you, Mercy,” Cu'udchu'ar said. ”I am Great Grand Most High of the Lanaktallan Great Herd Armada.”
”Your ship ID's, emissions, and transmissions are correct, but your ship profiles do not match our records. I recognize your rank and name but your appearance is unfamiliar to me,” the human said. ”We will wait to see if I am in your universe or you are in mine, as doctrine commands.”
”Affirmative, Mercy,” Cu'udchu'ar answered. ”There are currently high level political situations to observe and negotiate.”
”Undertood. Mercy of the Grave, out,” the figure said. The wallpaper appeared for a few seconds.
TERRAN IMPERIAL REPUBLIC OF SENTIENT BEINGS was on the bottom.
”We may see more of this,” the Grand High Executor said quietly. ”The Terrans were likely to stay and fight, to keep the Atrekna 'pinned' (in their parlance) up until the final moment. The Terrans are not the type to let an enemy escape if they can prevent it.”
Cu'udchu'ar nodded.
Three more ships, of the tens of thousands of Terran ships, arrived.
Again, their transponder ID's matched, but little else. One did not even have matching emissions or drive signatures. It was a massive ship, using the transponder of the micro-destroyer, nearly five times as long as the largest ship in the Great Herd Fleet. An artificial stellar mass the size of a small moon burned at the rear of the ship, for what purpose, Cu'udchu'ar did not know. It's name was emblazoned in burning warsteel across the hull. The Heart of Murdered Venus.
Cu'udchu'ar watched as Cricket handled the incoming data and wondered what this meant for his hopes of negotiating a peace settlement that would ensure some of his people survived.
The Executor stayed silent, keeping his own counsel, watching with red, unblinking cybereyes of warsteel and chrome, a legacy of his time as a POW in a Terran Internment Camp.
--------------
Cu'udchu'ar had to admit, he had doubted he would ever see Admiral Samantha Smith again. Her ship was the next to last group to arrive. When the Courage In Despair and its brigade mates had arrive, their hulls twisted and damaged, their crews savaged, their engines dead, the Admiral had called it there and requested a meeting with Cu'udchu'ar and the Great Grand Most High Executor.
They met on one of the rest and relaxation ships of the Lanaktallan fleet.
Cu'udchu'ar had to admit he was nervous. Eight of the ships that had arrived were pink and white, full of absolute maniacs that screamed and gibbered to the point the universal translators just gave it up. Imperium ships, Republic ships, Universal Combined Military Forces ships. Ships from a hundred different Terran governments had arrived.
While some of the crew and the captains may have had the same name, many did not. Some had different species manning the guns, manning the Captain's chair, in different positions. There was a myriad of different ranks, different ship designations.
But they had all agreed to march to Admiral Smith's banner.
The Executor was reclining in a chair, sipping at a cool drink of real, not synthetic or artificial, juice when Admiral Smith arrived with her escorts. Three heavy warborgs, one a different style then the rest, an armored Telkan Grave Marine escorting a veiled Telkan Void Captain, two Rigellian females, three Treana'ad, and five mantids. The introductions took a few minutes, but Cu'udchu'ar felt relaxed by the end of it.
There was some light chatting, plenty of curiosity over the different types of Terrans, until finally Cu'udchu'ar rapped his knuckles on the table. Everyone went silent and looked at him patiently. As the host, he was the highest ranking.
”I realize that the Unified Council is at war with the Terran Confederacy,” Cu'udchu'ar said. He turned on the holotank, showing the map of Council space. There were dozens of worlds surrounded by slowly pulsing red brackets. ”However, Council Space is under attack by the Atrekna. We managed to regain communication with a hypercomm six hours ago.”
That got nods.
”Here is the footage I have been able to collate before the meeting,” he said.
They all watched silently as news footage of world after world was being attacked. Over a third of the worlds the Atrekna were making planetary assaults with no assets in the system.
”I have considered what we know with what we are seeing,” the Executor said. He had declined to give his name, apologizing that since the battle, he could no longer remember it. His only name, even close, that he could remember was Pu'ublikserva'ant.
”It has long been believed that after the terrible three way war, we Lanaktallan fled into the former Mantid systems,” Great Grand Most High Executor Pu'ublikserva'ant said.
He tapped the icons. ”Each of these are genesis worlds for the various species of the Unified Council,” he said. ”I hereby postulate, to all of you, that where we really fled was...”
The pause was so thick with tension you could practically cut it with a knife.
”Atrekna held areas,” he finally said. He looked at everyone else. ”They are out to seize control of their previous areas and subjugate everyone else.”
There was silence a moment.
”This fleet represents the majority of the remaining naval forces of the Unified Council. Entire world's security forces were stripped. Ships that had been in storage for millions of years were even used,” Cu'udchu'ar said. ”Those worlds have no orbital support and with Terran military operations, the Council ability to rebuild our fleets is extremely limited.”
Everyone nodded.
”The only place the Atrekna are facing significant resistance, is the Terran Military Occupation Zones,” Pu'ublikserva'ant said. He looked around. ”This is why Most High Cu'udchu'ar and I have come up with a solution.”
”Combine our forces,” the Void Captain said, her voice synthesized by the throat cybernetic visible through her fur. Her face was a suggested shadow behind her black onyx silk veil. ”Protect the civilians against the Atrekna.”
One of the big heavily armored Terrans leaned forward, looking at the hologram. He poked it with a finger. ”Lostek,” he said softly. He looked up. ”The Atrekna. I would like a briefing on them once this meeting completes. My men, my guns, are at your disposal in the service of humanity, Admiral.”
Admiral Smith looked at the massive square headed Terran. ”Who were you fighting.”
He shook his head. ”I no longer remember. Only that the Terran Military Union was winning. Slowly. But we were winning, fighting with the last of Lanaktallan Martial Orders and Mantid Tech-Priests beside us.”
Cu'udchu'ar nodded. ”Then you will be willing to fight next to us?”
Admiral Smith looked around. ”Do all of you agree that I am in charge?”
The Confederate members all nodded.
Admiral Smith looked back at Cu'udchu'ar, took a deep breath, grasped the rope, and jumped.
”Do you need assistance?”
-------
Undrat looked up as the Dread Corporal stood up. Their armor was scuffed and scraped, but the birds of prey on the shoulders and chest had begun to glow with a soft reddish hue.
”They are coming. I cannot fight within this bunker if you are to remain safe,” the heavily synthesized voice was emotionless as they turned and moved toward the exit. ”I will join the Glorious Half Dead Warbound outside.”
Their armor wheezed and hissed as they moved to the door. They stopped and turned to look at everyone in the fighting position of the bunker.
”May the Seven Podlings of Faith and Duty watch over you, brothers and sisters,” they said.
Undrat watched as they left, then turned back to his weapon.
If the Telkan Ultion Knight believed that the enemy was coming...
...then Undrat believed they were coming.
He patted the heavy creation engine strapped to the gunner's mount.
Let them come.
He and Madame Three-Eighteen had enough bullets for all of them.