Flint’s Justice

Forged Alliance Book 8

Anthony James

Contents

Bay Zero

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

End

Other Science Fiction Books by Anthony James

© 2021 Anthony James

All rights reserved

The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser

Illustration © Tom Edwards

TomEdwardsDesign.com

Sign up to my mailing list here to be the first to find out about new releases.

Bay Zero

The captured god ship Ancidium raced through space at an unimaginably high multiple of lightspeed. Following its short encounter with the Endurus, the alliance vessel had entered this realm where it was – theoretically – immune from attack, and there it had remained for seven full days, in the hope that distance would allow it to escape the anticipated enemy pursuit.

At the beginning of those seven days, the life energy extracted from the Kilvar lord Andralivus during Captain William Flint’s recent mission, had been channelled into the Ancidium’s batteries. Those batteries were now at maximum, and every one of the warship’s weapons and defensive systems were available, though mostly they were untested.

And yet, despite this progress, Fleet Admiral Carl Recker appeared far from satisfied. He sat in one of the construction monitoring stations and stared at the banks of screens before him. On each screen was a different feed, allowing observation of the work happening in the Ancidium’s many bays.

“We have enough materials to finish work on the Exagar,” said Recker. The metal seats weren’t comfortable and he shifted position. “The Kavalor will be operational, but incomplete, while the Deklivor, the Wyvus and all the other new Laws of Ancidium will each be lacking several critical systems when our storage bays run dry of resources.”

Flint was sitting at the adjacent station, his own gaze fixed on the monitors. He knew he’d changed during his last mission – not only did he look and feel younger after absorbing some of the life energy overspill, but he felt a much greater confidence than before. However, that confidence he wasn’t willing to attribute to any source other than himself. Although Flint had never been blind to his strengths, now he itched to test himself against the Endurus once again. All he was lacking was the hardware.

And, here Flint was, with his first opportunity to catch up on news of progress since his initial debriefing a week ago. Recker was, as ever, spread too thinly, and Flint had left the man to his work.

“I thought you’d diverted additional resources into Bay Zero, sir,” said Flint.

“I did,” Recker confirmed. “And they aren’t going to be enough to bring the Vorgeran into a fully operational state. It’s not only the materials for critical system components we’re lacking, it’s ingar as well. We can no longer create exium until that shortage is resolved.”

“I thought we’d brought a crapload of ingar onboard when the Ancidium was at Terrani, sir.”

“That’s right, we did,” said Recker. “And now we’ve run out.” He exhaled. “Oddly enough, the Vorgeran’s weapons systems are finished and online. That probably says something about the Lavorix.”

Flint glanced over. “Without ingar, everything grinds to a halt. At some point, we’ll have to exit lightspeed for long enough to warm up the gateway, sir,” he said. “And head somewhere we can load up with supplies.”

“I know,” said Recker. He ran his fingers through his short-cropped grey hair. “I intended that we’d finish as much of the construction as possible with the resources available. Now the shortages are starting to bite.”

“You’re ready to cancel the lightspeed transit, sir?”

“Soon,” said Recker. He cursed, an indication of the colossal stress he was under. “Two short minutes to warm up the gateway,” he said. “And still I worry it’s too long.”

“What do the projections say?” Flint’s attention was once more on the feeds. Within Construction Bay 3, a thousand lifter shuttles swarmed around the part-built hull of the Exagar.

“The projections say we’ll be safe for longer than two minutes,” said Recker. “However, there are instances where the numbers indicate the Endurus will exit lightspeed within a few seconds of our own entry to local space.”

“In which case we’ll hit the bastard with the disruptor again, sir,” said Flint. “I heard Lieutenant Eastwood figured out how to alter the energy signature and that means the Endurus won’t be immune to a second shot from the weapon.”

“That’s the hope, Captain Flint. However, the risk remains that the disruptor will be ineffective and it’ll cost us ten percent of our life energy to find out. And, if we lose the Ancidium, we lose everything.” Recker straightened and fixed his pale eyes on Flint. “But don’t think I’m going to delay this a moment longer than necessary. I feel it in my bones – the Vorgeran is key, as much as the Ancidium is key.”

Flint nodded. One of his monitors had a sweeping view across Bay Zero and he could see the curving hull of the incomplete warship. When completed, the Vorgeran was going to be a technological monstrosity that would make the best of the Kilvar fleet look like cereal box toys. Or that was the hope, anyway.

High above the Vorgeran, the familiar shape of the much smaller Gorgadar hung in the centre of Bay Zero, its flank scars from the Endurus’s cutting lasers no longer visible because those hull plates had been removed to allow access to the supercharged exium blocks. Lifter shuttles hovered motionless adjacent to the dark opening.

“And we’re not yet ready to attempt a transfer of those modules,” said Recker quietly, when he saw what had caught Flint’s attention.

“Will we ever be?” asked Flint.

He’d known about the failure, since both Lieutenants Stan Fredericks and Ken Eastwood had been assigned to the team tasked with the safe extraction of the Gorgadar’s supercharged exium blocks. It had been a couple of days since he’d spoken to either one of those officers.

“That isn’t yet clear,” said Recker. “Perhaps the only option will be to build the Vorgeran to the original design plans and patch up the Gorgadar with its exium modules in place.”

Flint asked the question he’d been putting off. “What of the Istril, sir?”

“I don’t know,” said Recker. “I really don’t know.”

The rightmost screen on Flint’s console was receiving a feed from a different area of Bay Zero. He didn’t like the sight of what was on the display, but his eyes kept jumping to it. In the near darkness of a vast, low room, millions upon millions of gangling, seven-foot aliens, attached to the ceiling by flexible tubes and wires, waited unmoving, their huge dark eyes unblinking, and their bodies kept alive by the Ancidium’s life support systems.

These creatures were the Istril, and the Ancidium’s logs indicated they’d been created – grown – in the secrecy of Bay Zero immediately following the extinction of the Lavorix species to the Kilvar Raklivian.

What the Istril were intended to achieve, nobody knew, since the command to grow them had been received from an external source – almost certainly the Ancidium’s creator. Though the specifics might be lacking, Flint had a good idea the Istril were intended as the replacement crew for the Ancidium. Doubtless, they’d have been sent off to start, or to perpetuate, wars elsewhere in the universe.

The games will never stop, thought Flint. He clenched his teeth and felt his jaw muscles bulge. Unless the alliance makes them stop.

Perhaps that was now a possibility, since the Ancidium’s control AI – Alsar-9 – believed its intended supply depot at planet Indigar was monitored. Once the vessel arrived and began loading its bays, a confrontation with the mysterious creator seemed inevitable – assuming the creator was up for the fight. And Flint was determined the alliance would put up a good one.

“Captain Flint?”

The words hauled Flint back to the present. “I’m just thinking, sir.”

“Have you found enlightenment?” asked Recker. He smiled, though it vanished as quickly as it came.

“No, sir, no enlightenment, other than to say I think we’re fast approaching the end of this particular road.”

“You’re right,” said Recker. Abruptly, he stood. “Sitting here watching these feeds isn’t getting us anywhere,” he said. “Let’s head to the bridge. It’s time we got things moving.”

“A gateway to the Jandar system,” said Flint. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. It’s time.” Recker strode for the door. “Come.”

Flint climbed from his own seat and followed. The period of relative calm was about to end, that much was clear. If the alliance could overcome whatever challenge the Ancidium’s creator presented, humanity and the Daklan could proceed with the primary business of dealing with the Endurus.

The coming hours and days were going to be tough, but Flint was ready for whatever would be thrown his way.

Chapter One

The tension was high on the Ancidium’s bridge and every member of the crew knew what was at stake. A number of officers were capable of piloting the warship, having been trained over the previous few days, but Flint was the most familiar and he took the command seat at Recker’s insistence. Elsewhere on the bridge, his usual crew found places for themselves.

Flint twisted in his seat to remind himself who was on duty. Eighteen of the crew were Daklan and the other twelve were human. Most of the Ancidium’s personnel had been brought up from Terrani during the recent resupply, and they’d all seen combat. Many had been on active duty as far back as the human-Daklan wars.

“These are the best in the alliance, sir.”

“That they are,” said Recker. “And they’ll need to be.”

“Ten minutes and I’ll bring us out of lightspeed, sir,” said Lieutenant Fredericks.

“Ten minutes,” Flint acknowledged.

He checked and double-checked the instrumentation. Everything was fully operational, with no errors or warnings. The Ancidium was likely more than a thousand years old, and Flint was sure it wouldn’t have lasted so many centuries if it was prone to failure.

“You have everything organised in your head?” asked Recker.

Flint smiled inwardly. Having fought so many engagements, Recker found it hard to relinquish control.

“Yes, sir, I do,” said Flint.

“And are we linked to the Gorgadar?” asked Recker.

“Yes, sir.” Flint glanced sideways at his second-in-command. “If the Endurus appears, Commander Larson will hit it with a full-strength disruptor shot.”

“Damn right I will,” said Larson.

“Then, we’ll shoot it with the Ancidium’s nose beam,” Flint continued.

As he spoke, he called up a technical diagram for the particle beam. Its housing was immense and many of the components were similar in design to those on the Gorgadar’s own main armament.

“We know the location of the Endurus’s stasis negation modules,” said Larson. “If we can knock those out, we’ll command the Gorgadar to create a massive stasis field to lock down the Endurus forever.”

“Sounds easy when you put it that way,” said Recker, without much conviction.

“I’d definitely prefer the Endurus to stay away until the Ancidium is resupplied and we’ve finished constructing all those additional warships,” said Flint.

“Let’s see what the next ten minutes bring,” said Recker.

The last few inactive minutes before potential hostilities were always difficult. Flint drummed his fingers and he checked the instrumentation again. He couldn’t imagine that the Endurus had given up the chase, and the enemy vessel had shown itself immensely capable of showing up where it was least wanted. In Flint’s mind, that meant there was a better than evens chance the Endurus would exit lightspeed not long after the Ancidium – whatever the predictive algorithms might say to the contrary.

“Two minutes!” shouted Fredericks.

Flint’s eyes went to the timer and back to his control panel. Forward and back they went, while the seconds counted down.

“How do you feel about this one, sir?” asked Larson.

“I’m not sure, Commander,” said Flint. “I’ve started wondering if my instincts are no longer working like they used to.”

“Maybe you’re thinking about it too hard.”

“Let’s see what comes when we exit lightspeed,” said Flint. He felt peculiarly reluctant to engage in the discussion right now.

“Yes, sir.”

“Twenty seconds!” shouted Fredericks.

“I need everybody focused,” said Flint without turning.

The timer dropped to zero and the Ancidium’s propulsion gave a faint shudder, which Flint felt through the controls.

“We’re back in local space,” said Fredericks.

“Sensors coming online!” shouted Lieutenant Adam Burner.

The Ancidium’s sensors began gathering a feed almost immediately and, since experience told Flint that velocity was no protection against the Endurus, he held the warship steady.

“I can feel the death aura,” said Flint.

“Faintly,” said Larson.

Flint heard cursing and he turned in his seat. Lieutenant Garin-Vor – a Daklan propulsion officer – had her head lowered and she was shaking. Next to her, Lieutenant Kolstus was slumped. Other members of the crew were similarly affected and a human officer who was just entering the bridge from the backup control area below keeled over.

“What the hell?” said Flint in alarm.

“Shit, that’s rough,” said Recker, leaning heavily against Flint’s seat.

“Switch on the internal hull protections!” ordered Flint. “They should block out the death aura.”

“Activating the interior shielding,” said Lieutenant Elsa Copeland a moment later.

When she said the words, Flint thought the aching from the death aura lessened, though he couldn’t be sure since he wasn’t feeling it much anyway. The effect on the rest of the crew was immediate. Recker straightened, while others groaned in relief.

“Sir, are you recovered?” asked Flint.

Recker’s face was ashen. “I will be. Handle the damned warship,” he said angrily.

“Where are those scans?” Flint demanded.

With a sudden preference to be in motion - even if it was futile - he pushed the controls as far as they’d go. The Ancidium’s immense overstressed propulsion bellowed and the warship accelerated.

“Near scans running,” said Lieutenant Sophie Garrett.

“I’ve got the fars,” said Lieutenant Rita Becerra. “What’s going on, sir?”

“The Endurus,” snapped Flint. “What else could it be?”

“Should I ready the gateway, sir?” asked Fredericks. “This warship will need to be stationary when I enter the coordinates.”

For a moment, Flint couldn’t decide. The Endurus had somehow made it to this empty place either a few seconds behind the Ancidium or – in a way that Flint could hardly comprehend, nor bring himself to believe – some time ahead.

If the enemy was here, avoiding it wasn’t a possibility and Flint hauled back on the controls.

“Ready the gateway!” he ordered as the velocity gauge tumbled towards zero. “Target the fringes of the Jandar system.”

“Coordinates set, gateway warming up,” said Eastwood.

Confirmation appeared on Flint’s screen.

Prepare for gateway: 120s.

“Commander Larson, Lieutenant Maddox, ready on the weapons.”

“Yes, sir,” Maddox confirmed.

“This is going to be the longest 120 seconds ever,” said Larson.

Flint stared at the darkness on the feeds and listened as his sensor officers confirmed the scans were clear. The news didn’t make him feel any better and he glanced over his shoulder. Every one of the Ancidium’s crew had been in the chamber – a place designed to harden personnel against death tech – and yet almost everyone had suffered.

While it was clear the affected officers were recovering, it was a worry to find how easily they’d been incapacitated. The only officers who weren’t badly affected were Flint and his usual crew, and he had a good idea why that might be.

“Where’s that damned enemy warship?” he asked.

“Still scanning,” said Burner. “No sign of the Endurus.”

“We’re not alone, Lieutenant.”

“No sir, I don’t think we are.”

Flint kept his eyes forward and listened to Becerra making contact with other areas of the Ancidium, as she tried to gain an idea of the wider situation onboard. Deaths were inevitable and Flint ground his teeth together at the thought.

Prepare for gateway: 90s.

The seconds went by and Flint began to believe he was missing something. Past encounters with the Endurus had shown it to be infallible in the hunt. Whatever methods Flint had employed on the Gorgadar to escape his opponent had failed and yet, the enemy vessel had not so far located the Ancidium, though the presence of the death aura indicated it was somewhere close by.

“I’m unable to locate the Endurus, sir,” said Burner.

“Keep scanning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Prepare for gateway: 60s.

On Flint’s central screen was the reading for the Ancidium’s life batteries, along with a constantly updating line graph which showed the level of drain. A sudden peak appeared on the line and then it settled again.

“If we get out of here, I’ll be asking questions,” said Flint.

“And I’ll do what I can to answer them, sir,” said Fredericks.

“I’ve been looking at something which I think might explain what’s happened,” said Eastwood. “But I’m going to keep my mouth shut until we’ve gone through that gateway.”

Another peak appeared on the monitoring graph and this time it held for longer. The Ancidium’s life batteries drained faster and then steadied.

“Ninety-nine percent,” said Flint. “Those batteries drop fast.”

“The hull defences are blocking a damned powerful death aura, sir,” said Fredericks.

Prepare for gateway: 30s.

“Come on,” muttered Flint.

“The sensors are clear,” said Garrett.

A third peak – higher than the others – made Flint suspect the Endurus had released an even more potent death pulse. He felt nothing of it and the Ancidium’s crew showed no sign they did either.

Prepare for gateway: 10s

Burner delivered the news Flint had been dreading.

“I’ve located the Endurus, sir. It’s at two billion klicks.”

On any other warship, a spot from such a distance would have been miraculous, bordering on the impossible. The Ancidium’s sensor hardware was vastly capable.

“Two billion klicks isn’t enough,” said Flint. He stared at the grey speck of the Endurus on the sensor feeds and his lip curled in anger.

“No, sir, but that’s what we have.”

Flint was so accustomed to the Endurus spoiling his plans, that the activation of the gateway came as something of a surprise. The familiar sphere of darkness appeared. It engulfed the Ancidium and carried it across unimaginable distances. The pain which usually accompanied a gateway transit was now a stranger to Flint and he hardly noticed the hint of nausea deep in his stomach.

“We made it,” he said, trying to sound like it was the only expected outcome.

“I can’t feel the death aura,” said Larson. She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Everyone else looks good too.”

It was a relief to learn that – for the moment at least – the Ancidium was beyond the reach of the Endurus. How long that would last, Flint didn’t allow himself to speculate.

The sensors came up and Flint waited to see what his officers would find here in the Jandar system. He already felt the pressure of time. The Endurus wouldn’t end its pursuit – that much was clear – and soon it would turn up where it wasn’t wanted. Before that moment arrived, Flint wanted the Ancidium’s storage bays to be filled with precious resources.

If the creator decided to become involved, it would discover that Flint was playing a different sort of game – a game without rules, where the only goal was annihilation of the opposition.

Flint tightened his grip on the controls and smiled to himself. It was a game he was ready for.

Chapter Two

“The Lavorix star charts indicate the presence of twelve planets, like you already know, sir,” said Burner. “We arrived a billion klicks from planet twelve and our target is planet nine: Indigar.”

“Indigar is eight hundred million klicks from our current position, sir,” said Becerra. “We aimed to arrive with the planet between us and the Jandar star, and that’s exactly where we ended up.”

“Show me,” said Flint, looking from feed to feed. The Jandar star was on the rightmost screen, at four billion kilometres away, and it was a circle of white that made Flint think of coldness rather than searing heat.

“Here’s Indigar, sir,” said Becerra. “It’s got a diameter of ten thousand klicks, give or take.”

The target planet wasn’t much to behold.

“Another grey sphere,” said Flint. He narrowed his eyes. While the Ancidium’s incredible sensors could distinguish surface variations, the precise details were not apparent. “Is the supply depot visible from here?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” said Burner. “Give me a few moments and I’ll have a better idea.”

“Any depot capable of filling the Ancidium’s bays is going to stand out like a sore thumb,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Burner. “Assuming it’s on the facing side of the planet, or not otherwise disguised.”

“It’s the monitors we should be wary of, sir,” said Garrett. “There could be hundreds of them arrayed in the space around Indigar and we’d never spot them from here.”

“Maybe we should send a phased warship to scout, sir,” said Larson. “Admiral Aston is onboard the Ixidar and waiting for the order.”

“I think we have to accept that given our current time constraints we’re not going to neutralise every local monitor, Commander,” said Flint.

“I’m more concerned about deep space offensive platforms, sir.”

Flint had those same concerns, yet he couldn’t see how a measured approach was going to work. “We’re caught between a rock and a hard place,” he said.

“Yes, sir, we are,” said Larson. “Like we discussed before – if the Ancidium has weaknesses, we can be sure the creator knows about them.”

“Let’s give the sensor team a chance to figure out the lay of the land,” said Flint. He raised his voice. “Lieutenant Eastwood, you said you had some thoughts about the Endurus’s pursuit of this warship.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood.

“Tell me, but keep it brief.”

“Well sir, I’ve been monitoring the propulsion for much of that last journey and I didn’t notice anything unusual until the last couple of hours when I ran an audit and found that a bunch of our ternium modules weren’t contributing to the maintenance of our lightspeed tunnel.”

Flint had a feeling the explanation wasn’t going to be as brief as he’d hoped, but since his sensor team had yet to come up with any revelations about Indigar, he let Eastwood continue.

“Keep going, Lieutenant.”

“At first, I thought those modules simply weren’t required, but then I found that they run off an entirely separate processing cluster to the rest of the propulsion,” said Eastwood. “That processing cluster has been stuck on ninety-five percent utilisation for the last seven days.”

Flint tried to predict where Eastwood was going with this, but nothing came to him. “So this isn’t just redundancy in our propulsion system?”

“No, sir. I believe that while the Ancidium is at lightspeed, those ternium modules are working independently of the other propulsion modules to create separate lightspeed tunnels that branch off from the main one.”

The explanation suddenly made sense. “So as well as masking its path through lightspeed, the Ancidium also creates false paths?” said Flint.

“That’s what it looks like, sir. We know the Endurus is pretty damned good at seeing through both alliance and Lavorix lightspeed concealment technology, but it appears that its pursuit can be slowed by adding a ton of false paths.”

“I take it we didn’t have this tech on the Gorgadar?” said Flint.

“No, sir. The mass of ternium and the quantity of processing cores required to make this work would make it unfeasible even on a vessel like the Gorgadar.”

While this was a positive development, Flint spotted something he didn’t much like. “How many additional paths are we creating?” he asked.

“One approximately every thirty seconds, sir,” said Eastwood. “There’s a degree of randomness which I’m sure is intentional.” He cleared his throat. “There’s more. Just before we exited lightspeed, the Ancidium tapped into its other processing clusters and created a total of eighteen false trails.”

“And the Endurus was almost waiting for us at the end of seven days,” said Flint. “Seven days during which we created—” he worked it out quickly in his head. “More than twenty thousand branching lightspeed tunnels.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And if we assume the Endurus investigated each of the false trails—”

“Yes, sir. It doesn’t bear thinking about. Our enemy can seemingly travel at will wherever it chooses and with almost no warmup time between decision and departure.”

“And yet gateway travel slows down the pursuit significantly,” said Recker. “We just don’t know by how much.”

“It would be damned useful to have an answer to that, sir,” said Eastwood.

Flint cursed. “There’s so much we don’t know,” he said. “And I’d prefer to learn when there’s not so much riding on getting everything right first time.”

The discussion had drawn his attention away from the frustration of waiting for the sensor scans to complete. Burner announced his findings, though they weren’t exactly what Flint had hoped.

“Assuming all this information about the supply depot being on Indigar is accurate, I can tell you with certainty that it isn’t on the planet’s visible side, sir.”

“What about deep space platforms, satellites or anything else the creator might have left behind?” asked Flint.

“Same answer, sir. Nothing.”

Flint couldn’t put the decision off any longer. “Contact Admiral Aston. Request she launches the Ixidar and takes a look around the planet. Recommend she travels with the warship switched out of phase for—” He stopped himself. “Lieutenant Burner, would your scan have detected out of phase objects?”

“No, sir.”

“Adjust the sensors and scan again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Should I pass on the order to Admiral Aston, sir?” asked Garrett.

“Hold for the moment, Lieutenant.”

The instincts which Flint had thought he might be losing weren’t dormant any longer. Those instincts were telling him that Lieutenant Burner was going to report a discovery in the very near future.

“Sir, you were right,” said Burner. He took an audible breath. “I’ve located phase-shifted objects on and around Indigar.”

“I’m not going to like this,” said Flint. It was more a statement than a question.

“No, sir, I’d guess you aren’t.”

The feeds on the bulkhead screen updated. No longer was Indigar a near-featureless ball of rock. Now, the entire visible surface was clad in the dull grey of metal alloy. Those seemingly endless plains were broken here and there by immense rectangular structures, some of which extended for a hundred kilometres or more, their heights unclear.

In other places, Flint saw square pits – fifty or sixty in all – and they were immense in size, being easily larger than the metal structures. He narrowed his eyes and thought he saw imperfections in the darkness of these pits which may have been the resources for which the alliance had come, or may have been no more than spoil from the excavations which had brought this place into being.

“There are vessels above the surface, sir,” said Becerra. “I’ve detected thirty so far. Every one of them is motionless and they seem to be identical.”

Becerra put one of the spaceships on the feed. The distance was too great for Flint to make out specifics, but the quality was enough that he could discern the basic shape. From this angle, the vessel was broad beamed, with hardly any taper at the nose or the stern.

“That spaceship is a hundred and fifty kilometres in length,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir, that’s correct. And like I said, the others are identical. I’ve now located fifty-two.”

“If this is just the visible side—” said Flint.

“Yes, sir, it’s likely there are many more than fifty-two of those vessels,” said Becerra.

“This confirms we’re in the right place,” said Flint. His doubts had lingered all the way until now. “I wonder how we initiate the loading process.”

“I’ve run a scan for receptors, sir,” said Garrett. “There are several we could link to. I’m sure there’s a planetary controller which would accept a handshake request from the Ancidium. Once the formalities are over, I imagine those big spaceships would begin hauling up everything we need.”

Now that the moment was upon him, Flint hesitated. Once that handshake was made with the Indigar controller, he had no doubt that a comm would be sent to the creator, advising that the Ancidium had arrived at the planet. Then would come the test, and it was a test which Flint was suddenly unsure he wanted to take.

“What’s wrong, sir?” asked Larson.

“Maybe we don’t need this confrontation, Commander.”

“I disagree, sir. The alliance has more reason to fight the creator than it does the Endurus.”

Flint turned Larson’s way and nodded his understanding. “You’re right. The creator is responsible for everything that’s happened. The loss of our planets, the loss of our people.”

“And ultimately, it’s responsible for the escape of the Endurus, sir. We owe that bastard.”

“But the fight doesn’t have to be now.” Although Flint spoke calmly, his rage simmered and he could see the same within Larson. His grip tightened on the controls and he felt an overwhelming urge to set things right.

“This is one confrontation we should force before the creator runs into hiding to escape the Endurus, sir.”

Flint knew what he had to do. He turned and found Recker watching him impassively from the aisle between the consoles.

“Sir, I think we should initiate contact with the planet’s controller.”

“Do what you think is right, Captain Flint.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint took a breath. “Lieutenant Burner, please order the Ixidar and the Axindar to depart. The Lavorix battleships in the Ancidium’s bays are not equipped with phase shift technology, so they’ll have to sit this one out.”

“Yes, sir,” said Burner.

“Oh shit!” said Garrett suddenly. “Sir, you need to see this!”

The tone of Garrett’s voice made Flint think that it was something he really didn’t need to see. He looked at the feeds and found out that he was right.

Chapter Three

Something was happening on Indigar and, though it wasn’t immediately clear what was taking place, the level of activity was enough to make Flint countermand his previous order.

“Lieutenant Burner, hold the launch command for the Ixidar and the Axindar,” he said.

“Yes, sir, the launch order is on hold.”

Several of the huge spaceships at Indigar were in motion and they were all heading east towards the planet’s rim.

“They’re on convergent headings, sir,” said Becerra. “Wherever they’re going, it’s blind side of the planet.”

“Is there any indication we’ve been detected by a monitoring satellite?” asked Flint.

“It’s entirely possible our presence is known, but there’s nothing about the current activity which suggests we’ve triggered it, sir,” said Becerra.

“So what has triggered it?” asked Flint.

“We’ll need to travel a long distance to gain visibility of the convergence point, sir,” said Becerra.

“Add a course overlay for each of those spaceships onto the feed, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“That’s done, sir.”

Eight red lines traced across the planet’s surface, curving as they approached Indigar’s visible edge. The spaceships – which Flint was sure were resource carriers – travelled at a low velocity towards their destination.

“Uh, one of those vessels has stopped, sir,” said Becerra. “It’s the one closest to the cusp.”

Before Flint could respond, a second of the resource carriers stopped, approximately a thousand kilometres from the first.

“What’re they doing?” he wondered. “There’s no sign they’re filling their bays from those surface pits.”

“Another four are on the move, sir,” said Burner.

Flint didn’t like the unexplained and, even though nothing about this appeared threatening, his internal alarm bells were ringing. Mentally, he found himself adding up the potential capacity of the carriers and all of the storage pits and warehouse structures. He compared the total with how much it would take to fill the Ancidium’s resource bays.

“Everything we can see is enough to resupply the Ancidium several times over,” he said. “And we don’t know how many other carriers and storage facilities are out of sight.”

Larson looked sharply across. “The Ancidium has been in service for a long time, sir,” she said, her gaze intense. “Perhaps Indigar was intended to keep this warship operational for another ten thousand years.”

“I don’t think so, Commander.” Flint had a clenching in his guts. “I think this is something else.”

“What kind of something else?”

Flint didn’t answer straightaway and stared at the feeds. He needed to see for himself if the idea which had wormed its way into his head was correct.

By this moment, every one of the carriers had come to a halt and they remained on the planet’s visible side. Rather than converging, they’d formed a rough circle on Indigar’s eastern side, with several hundred kilometres between each and at altitudes varying from two hundred kilometres to three thousand.

“Sir, there’s another spaceship coming over the planet’s eastern edge,” said Burner. “Oh shit.”

Slowly it emerged into sensor sight. An enormous vessel flew over the horizon at an altitude of three hundred kilometres. On and on it came, until at last, its stern was visible. This vessel came to a halt, right in the middle of the waiting resource carriers.

“Nine hundred kilometres from nose to tail,” said Flint under his breath. “Almost four hundred across the beam.”

“We’ve got a match for that warship in our databanks, sir,” said Burner. “It’s the Kalindium.”

“It looks just like the Ancidium,” said Becerra. “Only smaller.”

Flint knew now what had been chewing at his insides. What he was witnessing here was a revelation of the most appalling kind.

“It looks like the Ancidium because it was built by the same hands, Lieutenant,” he said.

Recker had approached the command station and he stood at Flint’s shoulder. “The Ancidium was not the only one,” he said, his voice shaking with anger. “Games played throughout the universe, for the amusement of entities which hide in the shadows.”

“Yes, sir,” said Flint.

His head was spinning. The Ancidium had taken part in wars unimaginable. Endless death and extinction. Hundreds, if not thousands of Meklon worlds, extracted to provide fuel for the warship’s batteries, when all along the Kilvar and the Lavorix had been created by the same being and sent out into the universe to bring war and chaos.

And here was proof that the Ancidium alone wasn’t enough for the creator. The Kalindium was another vessel, doubtless constructed for the same purpose.

“How many more are there? And how many planets like Indigar?” asked Recker. He shook his head. “I can hardly bear to think about it.”

“Another answer we might never learn, sir,” said Flint. He twisted in his seat so he could get a better sight of Recker’s expression. What he saw made him go stone cold, and Flint knew at once what next order he would receive.

“Captain Flint, you will destroy the Kalindium.”

Flint didn’t normally question a direct command, but on this occasion, he felt obliged to make sure Recker knew the potential consequences. “Sir, if the Kalindium is built like the Ancidium, it won’t be an easy target.”

“The Ancidium can phase shift like the Kalindium, Captain Flint. And its weapons will still fire.”

“But what if—” Flint fumbled for the words. “What if the games need a good guy in order to play out as the creator intended? What if the Kalindium is the only thing defending a species we’ve never encountered from extinction?”

“I hear your words,” said Recker. He fixed Flint with a stare. “Do you believe them yourself?”

“No, sir, I do not,” said Flint. “But I’m aware of how readily we’re adding to our list of opponents. First the Kalindium, then the creator and then the Endurus. We can’t right every wrong, sir.”

Recker smiled, though it was remote, as if part of his mind was elsewhere. “Nevertheless, we will attack the Kalindium. There is nothing good in any of this.”

“Yes, sir,” said Flint. He twisted further in his seat. “Lieutenant Burner, you heard the order. Is there anything on the sensors which indicate a specific risk to an attack on the Kalindium?”

“Nothing except the target vessel itself, sir,” said Burner.

“The Kalindium’s bays could be loaded with capital ships for all we know,” said Larson.

Flint tried to read her feelings, but she was inscrutable. “I’m not planning to give the target a chance to launch its fleets, Commander.”

This was to be the first time Flint would pilot the Ancidium into combat, and his opponent was a tough one. He spoke to his officers, to ensure they were ready for whatever was to come. It was easy to see their uncertainty.

Flint stood and faced his crew. “The Ancidium is just a spaceship,” he said. “It has weapons and defensive systems like every other vessel in the alliance fleet. The only difference is the scale.” He gave a half-smile. “The scale and the downsides of failure.”

“This is our chance to get in some practice, against a real opponent, sir,” said Maddox. “We’ll be stronger at the end of it.”

“Thank you for the positive evaluation, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “What we learn here will stand us in good stead when we face the creator and the Endurus.”

The new members of Flint’s crew didn’t exactly look ecstatic, but neither had he expected them to. They had the experience and Flint was sure that would kick in when the engagement started.

Flint sat. “We’re going to continue scanning for another couple of minutes,” he said. “If nothing changes, we’ll commence the attack.”

With combat imminent, Flint’s mind discovered its usual clarity. He breathed cold air in through his nostrils and pushed every mental distraction aside. The readings on his panel instrumentation were exactly as they should be. Every onboard system was operating within its expected bounds.

“No hesitation, Commander,” he said.

“No hesitation,” Larson repeated.

This time, Flint could read her thoughts better. “We have to believe this is the right thing to do,” he said softly.

“You and me both.”

Flint smiled and nodded. “I remember when we were cloaked by that unknown alien spaceship, which saved us from the Endurus,” he said. “A message appeared on my screen after it happened.”

“Balance is restored,” said Larson at once. “I remember it too.”

“But balance isn’t restored,” said Flint. “So long as there are vessels like the Ancidium under the creator’s control, nothing will ever be right.”

It was Larson’s turn to smile, though it was a sad one. “What if there’s another alliance, just like ours, and they’re in control of the Kalindium?”

“It’s a possibility,” Flint admitted. “I guess I’m trying to talk myself into accepting this is the right thing to do.”

“Admiral Recker hasn’t made a bad call yet, sir,” said Larson. “But this one is testing my belief.”

“Mine too.”

Flint closed his eyes. Doubts crowded into his earlier clarity and he tried to stand firm against them.

I’m fighting for the survival of humanity and the Daklan, he thought. There’s no room for anything but absolute commitment.

“Whatever it takes.”

The words made Flint turn and he found Larson staring at him, like she understood him so perfectly she might as well have been reading his mind.

Well damn.

Flint’s focus returned and his doubts fled. Perhaps, he thought, this was the wrong decision. If so, he’d deal with the guilt and the consequences later.

“Lieutenant Burner, is there anything to report?” he asked.

“No, sir. There’s a total of seventy-five resource carriers and I’ve detected a two-klick satellite about half a million klicks from Indigar. I’d guess it’s capable of real-time comms and it’ll detect the Ancidium almost immediately we exit lightspeed above the planet.”

“And then the creator will know we’ve arrived,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir, I’m sure you’re right.”

Flint’s eyes didn’t leave sensor feeds. The Kalindium remained stationary and one of the resource carriers was heading slowly closer to the much larger vessel. Although the distance was too much and the sensor angle wasn’t good enough to allow a clear sight, Flint expected the resource vessel would soon enter one of the Kalindium’s bays and empty its cargo.

“Lieutenant Burner, tell Admiral Aston that it’s time.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Ancidium’s flank door was already open and less than thirty seconds later, the Axindar – commanded by the Daklan veteran Captain Inzol - emerged into space, closely followed by the identical vessel Ixidar. While the alliance possessed a huge number of Lavorix battleships, they would be useless in this fight. Still, Flint well remembered the value of having combat warships ready to defend the interior. Maybe they’d prove their worth before this was over, though he fervently hoped it wouldn’t come to dogfighting within the Ancidium.

“That’s our warships out of the bay, sir,” said Burner.

“I’ve created the local battle network,” said Garrett. “Our fleet is synched and ready to go.”

“Acknowledged. Lieutenant Fredericks, activate phase shift.”

“Phase shift activated.”

It was the first time Flint had given such an order and he watched the power draw. The needles flickered and then settled, providing yet another example of the warship’s near-endless reserves.

“Everything looks good, sir,” said Fredericks. “The overstress on the propulsion increased automatically to compensate for the extra drain.”

“Commander Larson, target the disruptor,” said Flint. He touched his finger on the green-glowing tactical screen and selected a short-range transit destination.

“Targeting disruptor. Range: eight hundred million klicks.”

The Ancidium had provided a backdrop to both of the alliance’s recent wars – a menace of promised, yet unknown potential. And, bit by bit, Flint was learning that the promise was even more terrible than he could possibly have imagined.

“Set the disruptor to maximum power and fire,” he said.

“Ten percent reserved from the life batteries,” said Larson. “Firing.”

The discharge produced a depth of vibration which made Flint’s head and jaw ache. He didn’t wait for the sound to fade and nor did he wait to discover if the attack on the Kalindium had successfully disabled the opposing vessel. The time for thinking was over.

Once committed, Flint knew there’d be no turning back and he’d have to give everything to the fight. Victory would be worth little if the Ancidium ended up crippled by damage, or with its life batteries drained, so it was vital the engagement was short and decisive.

“Let’s do this,” said Flint.

He pressed his thumb hard on the SRT activation button.

Chapter Four

The Ancidium completed an in-out transit with barely a rumble from its engines. Flint held steady, his eyes on the offline feeds.

“Waiting on sensors,” said Burner.

They came up almost immediately, and Flint did his best to absorb every piece of information he needed. The planet’s surface was five thousand kilometres below and from this short range, the alloy cladding, the pits filled with tenixite and the huge metal structures made it seem like a nightmare of technological bleakness.

Flint scanned the feeds, his eyes hunting for the Kalindium. He found it, three thousand kilometres away and stationary like before. Three of its flank doors were open and the resource carrier from earlier was still approaching, as if nothing was wrong. Unfortunately, the SRT hadn’t worked out exactly as Flint intended and the Kalindium was flank-first instead of stern-first.

“Our escort vessels exited lightspeed at the same time as we did, sir,” said Burner. “The Axindar and the Ixidar are on the tactical.”

“Hull readings indicate the Kalindium is offline, sir,” said Lieutenant Eastwood.

It was the news Flint had been hoping for, though his first order made him feel sick to the stomach.

“Commander Larson, target the Kalindium with our extractors and fire.”

“Yes, sir,” said Larson, her voice edged with anger. “Extractors fired.”

The discharge produced no discernible effect within the Ancidium and Flint kept one eye on the warship’s life batteries. If they climbed back to full, the extractors would have done their job.

“No movement on the life battery level, sir,” said Fredericks. “The Kalindium’s internal defences must somehow be active – maybe they run off a shielded backup power supply.”

Although the failure was going to make life harder, it was nonetheless a relief to Flint that this battle wasn’t to be won by the appalling death tech with which the Ancidium was equipped. Somehow – and stupidly, Flint was aware - missiles and plasma incineration seemed like vastly more honourable weapons of war.

“Commander Larson, Lieutenant Maddox, give that warship hell,” he said.

Flint requested power from the engines, intending to bring the Ancidium’s nose beam onto target. With a muted rumble, the Ancidium accelerated and Flint banked the warship. The ease with which the 1200-kilometre vessel defied its own mass was astounding.

“Waiting on the nose beam,” said Larson.

“Hull missiles and beam emplacements locked on target, sir,” said Maddox.

“Activate the hull armaments,” ordered Flint.

“Yes, sir. Hull armaments activated.”

“Lieutenant Burner, order the Ixidar and the Axindar to engage.”

“Yes, sir. Order given and confirmed.”

The Ancidium was fitted with such a quantity of weapons clusters that the numbers almost lost meaning. Missiles poured like rain from their launch tubes. Thousands upon thousands of their orange propulsion trails streaked across the Indigar sky. At the same time, hundreds of dark blue particle beams stabbed outwards, while large bore gauss repeaters sent an unimaginable torrent of projectiles towards their target.

The bridge was more than two hundred kilometres from the hull and, though Flint listened carefully, he could hear nothing of the punishing brutality his spaceship was unleashing.

The range between the two vessels was short and the impacts came rapidly. Explosions blossomed across the Kalindium’s flank, while a myriad of heat patches appeared across the warship’s hull, created by the particle beams and the gauss projectiles. Against the might of such an opponent, even this withering storm appeared insignificant and Flint asked himself if the Ancidium had the firepower to defeat the Kalindium before it took off into lightspeed.

Abruptly, the resource carriers which circled the opposing vessel disappeared from the sensors and the tactical.

“Those carriers have activated mode 3 transits, sir,” said Lieutenant Garrett. “All of them.”

Flint was glad the non-combat spaceships were out of his way and he didn’t give the matter anymore thought.

“Come on,” he muttered anxiously, as he waited to find out if the Kalindium had its hull defences active. It was difficult to be sure with so much intense light hitting the sensor arrays.

The first plasma explosions faded and Flint saw the craters all across the Kalindium’s armour. Several of those craters were much larger than the others and, as he watched, a nine-kilometre circle of armour plating exploded into particles of dust. Another nine-kilometre section was disintegrated a moment later as the Ixidar and the Axindar added their own firepower to that of the Ancidium.

A second wave of detonations lit up the Kalindium’s hull anew and the Ancidium’s particle beams automatically retargeted onto the damaged areas, while fusillades of gauss slugs raked along the entirety of the opposing warship’s length.

“Not going to be enough,” said Larson.

“Not nearly enough,” said Flint.

As well-armed as the Ancidium was, it was designed to knock out fleets of eight-kilometre battleships, not star-destroying behemoths like the Kalindium. Likewise, the Ixidar and the Axindar were also intended to wreck fleets and their massive disintegration cannons didn’t have the impact to defeat a vessel as large as the Kalindium – not in quick time, at least.

The Ancidium’s particle beam was the only weapon likely to finish the job and Flint almost had it on target. Having piloted his warship in a tight, fast arc, the flat plates of the Kalindium’s stern were nearly in view.

At this moment, Flint would dearly have liked to fire the disruptor for a second time, but the weapon was on cooldown and the monitoring software didn’t give any indication when it would be available again.

“Get ready,” he said. The Ancidium’s nose beam came on target. “Fire!”

“Firing the nose beam,” said Larson. “A full-strength shot.”

A forty-kilometre-diameter beam of dirty blue lanced out from the Ancidium’s nose and plunged into the Kalindium’s stern. The beam held for two seconds, during which Flint rotated the Ancidium so that the weapon would rip through his opponent like a jagged knife.

When the particle beam cut out, Flint saw that it had inflicted a grievous wound. Although the diameter of the beam was forty kilometres, the heat of it had expanded into a much wider area, rupturing the alloys and leaving an ugly, irregular wound across three hundred kilometres of the Kalindium’s stern. If the attack had gone all the way through like Flint expected, the damage was severe.

“I’m detecting a power reading from the Kalindium’s hull, sir,” said Fredericks. “It’s coming back online.”

“Fifteen seconds on the nose beam, sir,” said Larson.

“Too long,” said Flint. He glanced down. The disruptor remained unavailable.

The Kalindium was going to escape, he knew it. All its crew needed to do was to activate a chain of short-range transits and the Ancidium would never be able to track it down.

“I’m detecting warships exiting the Kalindium’s open bay doors, sir,” said Becerra.

Flint’s eyes jumped to the new feed where he saw five vessels accelerating away from the stricken Kalindium. These vessels were eight thousand metres in length and their design was unmistakeably similar to that of a Lavorix battleship. Somehow, that realisation made Flint feel better about what he was doing. These vessels were the spawn of the creator, not constructs of an unknown, virtuous species.

“Our hull defences are active, sir,” said Fredericks.

“Should I retarget our armaments, sir?” asked Maddox.

Flint didn’t answer for a second or two as he gauged the likely actions of these warships. The alien vessels had no taste for combat and they entered lightspeed. Six others followed them from the Kalindium’s bay and then came dozens, in a wave so thick they must have been scraping the sides of the exit tunnel in their haste to get away.

“Leave them to it, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

He focused once again on the Kalindium. The Ancidium’s missiles continued to rain down upon it and gauss slugs pulverised the already damaged armour around the particle beam opening. Flint knew full well the strength of the Ancidium’s own armour and he couldn’t imagine these projectiles breaking up the Kalindium anytime soon.

“The power reading on their hull is fading, sir!” said Fredericks. “I think our particle beam knocked out their main controller hardware!”

“Should I deactivate our armaments, sir?” asked Maddox.

Flint hesitated. “Yes, hold the attack.”

“The Kalindium isn’t destroyed, sir,” said Larson.

“You’re right, Commander,” said Flint. He drummed his fingers and narrowed his eyes at the feed.

“What if the Kalindium’s crew find a way to bring the controller hardware back online?”

“They might,” said Flint. His instrumentation indicated the Ancidium’s nose beam was ready to fire again, albeit with an accompanying four percent drain on the life batteries.

“What’re you thinking, sir?”

“I’m thinking that if the power readings climb on that vessel, you should put another particle beam hole through its hull, Commander.” Flint could feel the weight of Larson’s stare. “What if there is a Bay Zero on the Kalindium?” he mused.

“What if there is, sir? It’s likely there are billions of personnel on that vessel. Even if you were able to bypass its hull at lightspeed, or we were to put another hole in the right place for you to transit through, there’s no guarantee this hypothetical Bay Zero wouldn’t be swarming with alien troops.”

Larson was right - Flint knew it. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the Kalindium offered a wealth of opportunities for those bold enough to take them.

“Fleet Admiral,” he said. “Should we continue the bombardment?”

Recker’s face was grim. “No,” he said. “If the Kalindium’s main controller is offline, its internal defences should no longer be operational. Fire the extractors again. Afterwards, we will decide on what – if any - exploratory work we should undertake.”

“Yes, sir.”

It was the order Flint had dreaded. He remembered past conversations with Recker in which the man had stated his determination to bring the alliance through these ongoing conflicts. Here was the manifestation of that commitment.

“Commander Larson,” said Flint. “Target the Kalindium with our extractors and fire.”

Larson’s expression was haunted when she acknowledged the order. It was one thing to employ death tech in combat. Here, when the battle was decided, it was a different thing entirely.

“Extractors targeted and fired.”

“Our life batteries climbed to one hundred percent, sir,” said Fredericks.

Flint took steadying breath. “Was there any overspill into our ternium modules?”

“Negative, sir. The supercharging only works for exium under stress. Besides, the Ancidium is fitted with hardware to channel away the excess.”

“It was just a thought,” said Flint. It was time to move on. “Lieutenant Burner, we should initiate contact with the planetary controller. Our bays aren’t going to load themselves.”

“The resource carriers headed into lightspeed, sir.”

“They’ll come back once the controller accepts our loading request,” said Flint with more confidence than he felt.

“What about the Kalindium, sir?” asked Larson.

“That’s secondary, Commander. Let’s see what happens when we initiate contact. If the loading begins, maybe then we can think of ways to make use of that spaceship.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The planetary controller has accepted our request for a resupply, sir,” said Burner. He sounded surprised, as if he’d expected problems.

Flint wasn’t surprised. “Has the controller indicated what happens next?”

“Yes, sir. We are to remain stationary where we are and the loading will commence once the resource carriers return from lightspeed.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’m querying the protocols, sir,” said Burner. “Damn, it looks as if those carriers were instructed to enter lightspeed for sixty-three minutes at the end of their SRTs.”

“Sixty-three minutes out, a short warmup for their ternium drives and then sixty-three minutes back,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. The loading is anticipated to take two days.”

During a previous conversation with Alsar-9, the sphere entity had informed Flint that the reloading would require less than a week, and on that basis, two days wasn’t so bad. However, given that the Endurus was in pursuit of the Ancidium and the creator would likely show up sometime soon, two days might as well have been an eternity.

Maybe the creator won’t show up at all. Maybe it fears its own warship and what the alliance will do with it.

It was wishful thinking, Flint was sure. And yet, when he pondered it further, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched. Manipulators were comfortable in the shadows, away from direct confrontation. It could be that the Ancidium’s creator would do no more than watch and wait for the time to strike. On balance, Flint now had a firm preference for an immediate confrontation. Experience told him he rarely got what he wanted.

“Do we have an option for a partial resupply?” asked Flint. “It’s not as if we need our bays full for a thousand years of war.”

“I’ll make that request, sir,” said Burner. He said nothing for a time, while he communicated with the planetary controller. “A twenty-five percent resupply will take half a day, sir. The controller won’t initiate the process for anything less.”

“What do you think, sir?” asked Flint, directing his question to Recker.

“Will the partial resupply deprive us of anything we might need?” asked Recker.

“No, sir,” said Burner. “We’ll receive everything in proportion.”

“In that case, twenty-five percent will be enough.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll send the instruction to the Indigar controller,” said Burner.

Although the time for the resupply had been reduced significantly, Flint’s agitation increased and he fidgeted in his chair.

“It’s still too long,” he muttered.

No sooner had Flint said the words than he felt an ache in his bones. The pain wasn’t faint, rather it clutched at him like the taloned hand of death. He heard groans and cursing from behind and one of his crew made an agonised choking sound.

“Shit!” said Flint. A glance at his control panel indicated the internal defences were still active, and yet they weren’t enough. “The Endurus is here!”

The arrival of the enemy warship was a terrible development and it screwed up any hope of refilling the Ancidium’s bays. Without resources, the fight against the Endurus was effectively over.

Unfortunately, Flint had more immediate problems, as the enemy vessel treated him to the first demonstration of a weapon that was neither stasis, nor death sphere.

Chapter Five

It happened quickly – before Flint could send the Ancidium into lightspeed. A sudden, intense glare from the sensor feeds cast harsh redness into every corner. Flint squinted instinctively and the feeds attenuated automatically. He could hardly believe what he saw.

A red beam, a thousand kilometres in diameter, had punched clean through Indigar and continued into space, reaching to the fringes of the universe for all Flint knew. The edge of the beam had missed the Ancidium by only a few hundred kilometres, but the Kalindium hadn’t been so lucky. A darkness within the burning energy marked the position of this other warship. The shadow faded as the particle beam melted the Kalindium’s alloys and broke them into atoms.

For Indigar, the damage was terminal. When the beam shut off, a colossal hole was left behind, right the way through the planet. The rocks and metals inside burned white with a heat they couldn’t possibly contain. On the surface, cracks and fissures appeared on the alloy cladding, and they widened with incredible speed.

All this Flint saw in the time it took him to reach for the tactical screen and input an SRT destination. He reached for the activation button, but too slowly. A second beam tore through Indigar and this time it struck the Ancidium with raging, infinite force. The life battery readings plummeted, and when Flint held in the SRT button, the warship went nowhere, as if it were trapped within a cage formed from an energy beyond imagining.

Flint’s day was not about to get better.

The beam shut off and, at the same time, the wreck of the Kalindium detonated in a flash of darkness so deep that the Ancidium’s sensors couldn’t penetrate its depths. And then, a moment after it faded, the Endurus smashed through the ruins of Indigar like an unstoppable battering ram.

The planet shattered into trillions of pieces. Slabs of stone, some of them immeasurable in mass, were scattered like leaves and the Ancidium was struck countless times. The Endurus, suddenly travelling with a peculiar lack of velocity, also impacted with the Ancidium and the smaller warship was knocked aside like it weighed nothing.

Protected from the effects of the collision by the warship’s life support systems, Flint pressed the SRT button time and again, yet the Ancidium stayed in place. Not only that, but he noticed strange afterimages whenever he moved, and each motion had become an enormous effort, like his combat suit was caked in a thick layer of wet concrete.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, hauling on the controls.

The Ancidium rotated and accelerated at the same time, yet sluggishly as if it were being dragged along by lifter shuttles, rather than propelled by overstressed ternium. Flint glanced at the velocity gauge and it was climbing without any urgency whatsoever.

“The detonation of the Kalindium, sir!” said Fredericks. His words were slurred, as if he was punch drunk. “That’s what caused this.”

“I need a better explanation, Lieutenant!”

Rocks and stone continued smashing into the Ancidium and they too had developed the same sluggishness. The Endurus was also visible, forging its way through the ruins of Indigar like the savage, unstoppable construct of a thousand insane gods. Darkness clung to its hull and Flint guessed it was building up to a death pulse of appalling strength.

“This is something like stasis, sir!” yelled Fredericks. “Our onboard systems are slowing down and I’d guess the same thing is happening to us.”

“Can we stop it?” Flint shouted in return. “Why won’t the SRT modules function?”

“I don’t know, sir.” Frederick’s voice had a note of something else in it, which Flint only just recognized as shock. “Half of the people back here are dead.”

Despite everything, Flint’s mind retained a semblance of control. He noted that the Ancidium’s particle beam was online, but pointed way off target. Following their initial sharp decline, the reserves in the life battery were falling slower than before.

Flint’s efforts to pilot the Ancidium out of the maelstrom had so far achieved little. The sensor feeds were of stones, enemy warship, darkness and little else. Every object was travelling like it was in slow motion, and leaving afterimage trails behind. It was impossible to make sense of it and Flint tore his eyes away.

He reached out a hand to the tactical once more. It was an effort, and yet his movements didn’t seem to be so badly affected by the slow motion as the objects outside.

“I think the Ancidium’s internal defences have reduced the effects of that detonation!” he said, hoping one of his propulsion officers would take something from the idea.

“I agree, sir,” said Eastwood. “But it’s still happening. Gut instinct makes me believe the end result will be the same.”

“There’s got to be a way out of this,” said Flint. “There’s always a damned way.”

He had an idea. The principle of it was easy to understand, but the explanation would take too long. Using his control panel, Flint linked to the Gorgadar in Bay Zero. As soon as he saw the confirmation light, he issued a command to the warship’s control system, requesting a negation field just large enough to encompass the Ancidium.

Less than a second after he sent the instruction, the afterimages which followed his movements disappeared and the weight of stasis – or whatever the hell it was - which had been afflicting Flint vanished like it had never existed.

Immediately, the velocity gauge raced upwards with its usual vigour and the Ancidium smashed through the planetary debris as it surged for clear space. On the starboard sensors, Flint caught sight of the Endurus. The enormous vessel was travelling at a fraction of the Ancidium’s velocity, but it hadn’t been stopped.

With his own warship in the centre of a negation sphere, Flint tried another short-range transit. This time, he felt the familiar thumps of the two transitions. Belatedly, he remembered that the Ixidar and the Axindar were as yet unaccounted for.

A rescue mission – if needed – wasn’t on the cards right now, and Flint activated a second, third and fourth SRT as soon as they became available. The Ancidium could chain as many as ten, and, after a moment’s thought, Flint sent the warship into lightspeed twice more.

“Lieutenant Fredericks, open a gateway!” he shouted. The death aura hadn’t gone away, but its intensity was much less than before. “I don’t care where we go.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “Gateway hardware warming up. Two minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

“Two minutes too long,” said Flint. “Do we have sensor sight on Indigar?”

“No, sir,” said Garrett. “At least none that’s worth having.”

“Lieutenant Becerra, contact the Ixidar and the Axindar,” he snapped. “Find out what happened to them.”

“There’s no response from either, sir.”

“Damnit!”

Everything had gone south and the only positive was that the Ancidium had escaped destruction. The cost of survival had been high – the warship’s life batteries were already down to sixty percent and Flint didn’t know if the Endurus’s particle beam or the Kalindium’s detonation was responsible for most of the drain.

It didn’t much matter one way or the other, though he couldn’t stop wondering how many living creatures had died just to protect the Ancidium from one particle beam and one stasis blast.

The gateway timer counted down and, for the first time since the Endurus fired a particle beam through Indigar, Flint turned to survey the outcome for his crew. If anything, Fredericks’ estimation that half of the personnel were dead was an understatement. Almost everyone was slumped and unmoving and Flint doubted they were simply unconscious.

Recker was down but not out. He was crouched in the central aisle and leaned against one of the consoles for support, his head lowered. Every member of Flint’s usual crew was alive and with seemingly no lingering effects from the death tech which had swept through the Ancidium. Or maybe it was more than just death tech – maybe it was a combination of that and something else, which were too much for the warship’s internal defences to completely block.

The scale of the calamity threatened to crush Flint beneath the weight of failure. Once, not so many months ago, he would have been overcome. Now, he’d learned how to roll with the blows and come back fighting.

This isn’t over.

“Lieutenant Becerra, do we have a medical team on the way?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir. They’ll be here soon.”

“Do we have any indication of how many we lost?”

The Ancidium played host to many thousands of alliance personnel.

“No indication so far, sir,” said Becerra. She looked almost guiltily to her right, to where several members of her team were dead. It was clear what was going through her head.

“Sixty seconds on the gateway!” said Fredericks.

Flint cursed under his breath. “As many as that.”

His eyes roved across the feeds and he saw no sign of the Endurus, and nor had the intensity of the death aura increased.

The timer hit zero and the Ancidium opened its gateway. Flint hardly noticed the pain of the transit and he waited for the sensors to come online, his teeth clenched and his grip on the controls tight.

“Sensors online,” said Burner. “Near scans running.”

“I’ve got the fars,” said Garrett.

The mundanity of those statements was a welcome reminder of normality and Flint gazed upon the stars as he listened for the scan results.

“I can’t feel the death aura,” said Larson. “There again, I don’t know if that’s because of everything we’ve been through, or because the Endurus isn’t anywhere close.”

Flint couldn’t feel it either, which he thought was partially a result of his numbness caused by recent events. The scans came back clear and still there was no sign of a medical team. Flint ordered those who were capable to inject the others with Frenziol, in the hope it might make the difference between their living or dying.

Despite it all, Flint’s mind had not stopped turning. He was aware of an inevitability, and one he’d soon be forced to confront. For the moment, he focused on the demands of the now.

“In a few minutes, I’m going to order another gateway transit,” he said. “Those few minutes are what we have to recover from what just happened. Does anyone have questions or answers?”

“What are we going to do about the Ixidar and the Axindar, sir?” asked Maddox.

“They’re lost to us, Lieutenant. If they aren’t destroyed, then they’re trapped in stasis. This isn’t the time to go looking.”

“We’ve lost the opportunity to resupply,” said Fredericks. “That’s going to put us back years. There’s no way we can take the Ancidium to an alliance planet to pick up resources – not with the Endurus following us.”

The bridge door opened and a medical team entered, bringing with them a spindly medical bot of a kind that could patch up almost any physical injury. Flint guessed the device wouldn’t be much use here, but he told the medical team to get on with their work anyway.

“What happened at Indigar has changed everything,” said Flint. “Our hope that we could build a hundred Laws of Ancidium, each fitted with exium power supplies and carrying exium bombs, is gone. We need a new approach.”

“What kind of new approach, sir?” asked Larson.

Flint met her gaze and then confronted the inevitability his mind had identified not long before.

“I don’t think we can defeat the Endurus with what we have, Commander.”

Larson’s eyes widened as she realised what he was building to. “You want to ask the creator for help.”

“I don’t know about asking for help, so much as suggesting a partnership.” Flint tried to bring a smile to his face, but it wouldn’t come. “If we continue as we are, the alliance is finished. Our part in the games will be over. I’m willing to gamble everything on this, Commander.”

“You will be gambling everything, sir.”

A figure appeared at Flint’s shoulder and when he turned, he found himself sinking into the green eyes of a female Daklan.

“The Fleet Admiral has fallen into a coma, Captain Flint,” said the medical officer, her voice a unique mixture of harsh edges and melody. A badge on her chest indicated she was named Kida-Or.

Flint turned further and saw that Recker had gone from a crouch to being prone on the bridge floor. The med-bot hovered over him, connected by a forest of tubes.

A coldness swept through Flint. “Will he live?”

“That is unknown.”

“He can’t die.”

“We will do our best,” said Kida-Or. “He must be taken to one of our medical bays.”

“Yes. Quickly,” said Flint. “Is this level of fatalities reflected elsewhere in the Ancidium?”

Kida-Or’s impassive expression faltered. “We have lost many.”

“I’ll let you get on,” said Flint.

The Daklan backed away and began giving orders to other members of her team. The first medical bot picked up Recker, just as a second bot floated onto the bridge.

“Sir, do you know what this means?” asked Larson. “As the commanding officer of the Ancidium you are now the most senior officer on this mission.”

Flint gave a bitter laugh. “There was a time when I’d have hated that responsibility, Commander. Now, I’m glad of it, because that means there’s nobody can tell me to back down from what I’m intending.”

“You’re absolutely sure it’s the right thing to do?”

“I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do, Commander, but it’s what I’m going to do anyway.”

Larson found it within her to smile. “Then let’s put it in motion - before the Endurus finds us and hits the Ancidium with another one of those particle beams.”

“Or unleashes a death pulse that kills everyone.”

“But not us,” said Larson sadly. “We keep on living, whatever’s thrown at us.”

“I want to see this out, Commander. More than anything.”

“Me too.”

Flint smiled in return, though it was with the same sadness as he saw in Larson. This fight against the Endurus had got off to a disastrous start and the only way to pull it round was to take the biggest gamble imaginable.

With little choice, Flint committed himself to his new goal.

Chapter Six

“Ready the gateway!” said Flint. “Pick a place and take us there.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “Warming up the gateway. Two minutes.”

“We’re making this jump and then we’re going to talk,” said Flint.

The other members of his crew hadn’t heard him speak to Larson of his plan, and he wanted to have their full attention when he revealed it.

A figure arrived on the bridge.

“Captain Flint,” said Captain James Vance, standing just inside the entrance, with a squad of soldiers behind him. “Permission to enter?”

“Granted,” said Flint. “And no need to ask.”

Vance was grim faced, as were his soldiers. Flint suspected that a couple of additional squads were waiting in the command and control areas below, so as not to crowd the bridge space.

“The shit hit the fan,” said Flint by way of introductory explanation.

For once, Vance had no inside knowledge of recent events and Flint filled him in, since the man and his soldiers didn’t deserve to have any secrets kept from them.

“You want us to shift these bodies, sir?” asked Vance. “Looks as if the medical team have their hands full.”

Flint glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Kida-Or declaring another officer dead. “Your assistance would be appreciated.”

“One minute on the gateway,” said Fredericks.

“I don’t think we’re going to be left with many on the bridge, sir,” said Larson.

Flint knew it too. In fact, he had a feeling he’d be left with his usual crew and no more. Those personnel who’d survived the death pulse weren’t in a good way and the Frenziol boosters didn’t seem to be bringing them round.

“I want the bridge cleared,” he said, making a decision. “Those who normally serve under my command, you’re staying. Lieutenant Becerra, find out if any of the off-duty backup crew survived. If they’re in a fit state, I want them here on the bridge as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir.”

The medical team, helped by Vance and his soldiers began the task or removing the dead and the injured. When the gateway timer came to ten seconds, they paused, in preparation for the transit. The new gateway opened and the Ancidium passed through. A few of the medical personnel cursed the pain and one of the bridge crew – a propulsion officer named Sarix-Geo – died from the additional trauma.

The death was another one added to a pile which was growing ever higher. Flint couldn’t let himself be affected and he stared at his control panel while the last of the medical personnel and their patients exited.

“Near scans done and clear,” said Burner.

“Same with the fars,” added Garrett.

Flint gave Larson the controls in order that he could stand and face those who remained. He could feel the death aura, though so remotely that he had to concentrate to notice it.

With a crew of only nine, the bridge appeared woefully empty. Luckily, thought Flint without false pride, these were the best officers in the alliance. If anyone could handle this warship and deal with the coming storm, it was they.

“We’re going to find the creator,” said Flint without preamble. “If that bastard had the resources to build the Ancidium, the Kalindium and whatever the hell else came out of its construction yard, it’ll damn well have enough raw materials to fill our storage bays a dozen times over.”

“What do you hope to achieve, sir?” asked Eastwood.

“An alignment of goals,” said Flint. “I’d like to convince this entity that it’s in the best interests of everyone that we help each other.”

“What kind of help would that be, sir?” asked Burner. “Are you just talking about resources or something more?”

Flint shook his head. “I’m damned if I know, Lieutenant. This feels like the only option. Hell, I’d take almost anything that was offered if I thought it was going to help us beat the Endurus.”

“It’ll be a deal with the devil, sir,” said Garrett.

“I’m hoping there’ll be more nuance to it than that, Lieutenant.”

“If this creator entity has spent forever playing games, how can we trust it, sir?” asked Fredericks.

“We can’t trust it, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “That’s why I’m not intending to accept IOUs. Any deal has to be upfront or nothing.”

“I don’t like it much, sir,” said Eastwood. “It’s one thing dealing with a physical force like the Endurus - we know exactly what we’re getting with that. But you aren’t yet forty years old. How can you beat an entity - that could be thousands of years old - at its own game?”

“What do you suggest, Lieutenant? At some point it was going to come to this. And don’t think for a moment I won’t be looking for every single opportunity to knife this bastard in the back. Two can play at treachery and I like to think I’m a fast learner.”

“I hate that this is what we’ve come to, sir,” said Garrett. “Talking about betrayal instead of friendship and trust.”

“I don’t like it any better than you, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “Through no fault of our own, we’ve been reduced to this. But we signed up to fight and even if this isn’t what any of us expected, we’re still doing our duty to all those people on alliance worlds.” Flint pursed his lips, to keep in the anger. “And I’m sure that if it came down to a choice, every one of our citizens would choose life over death, even if it meant playing dirty for a time.”

“There must be another way, sir,” said Garrett. “Maybe we just haven’t thought of it yet.”

It was clear to Flint that his crew didn’t want to travel this road, and neither did he. More than anything, he wished for a chance to sit quietly alone, to think about how to deal with the situation.

You should have learned by now, William - those opportunities never come.

Flint was also painfully aware that his brain had been so honed by combat - where every decision needed to be made in an instant – that even if he’d been granted all the time in the world, he might not come up with a better idea than the one he’d put on the table.

“I want our future to be different,” said Flint. “I want the alliance to enjoy a peace we’ve never had. And remember when you’re considering the plan – a meeting with the creator has always been on the cards. A manipulator uses force as a last resort, while force was always going to be our primary means to achieve our goals. The way I see it, not much has changed overall – the lines have blurred and nothing else.”

“I’d like everything to be other than it is, sir,” said Fredericks. “But I’ve served with you long enough to know that you’ve got the knack. If there’s a way to turn shit into gold, you’re the man to do it. You can count on my commitment, sir.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Flint scanned the other faces. “I wasn’t asking for a show of hands, but I’ll rest easier if I know you’re all onboard.”

“Good luck getting that rest, sir,” said Burner. “I’m in.”

The other members of the crew were in too, even if they weren’t happy with the situation. Flint wasn’t happy either, but he felt it in his bones that this was the only way to proceed. Most definitely he intended to do everything in his power to come out on top when he found the creator.

Only one problem remained.

“So how do we locate the creator, sir?” asked Becerra. “We don’t have a hotline on the bridge.”

“I’ll speak with Alsar-9,” said Flint. “The sphere entity will know.”

“Are we going to activate another gateway, or are we waiting here?” asked Larson.

“That’s a good question, Commander.” Flint drummed his fingers as he considered the options. “I’d prefer to spend some time at lightspeed, so I can think things through,” he said. “But not with the Endurus so capable of tracking us to our endpoint.”

“So should I ready the gateway, sir?” asked Fredericks.

“Considering how long it took the Endurus to find us at Indigar, I’d say we’ve got a few minutes yet, Lieutenant. And that’s a few minutes you can spend working on a predictive model that will tell us how long the Endurus requires to locate us at the end of a gateway. I believe Admiral Recker had some people building such a model already.”

“I’ll dig out the file and load it with the additional information from our time at Indigar,” said Fredericks. “I doubt it’ll produce reliable results from such a limited set of data points, but it’ll be a start.”

“Thank you,” said Flint. “And Lieutenant Eastwood, I’d like you to gain a better understanding of how the Ancidium creates those branches from its main lightspeed tunnel. If there’s a way to make it more effective, I’d be very interested to know.”

“Yes, sir, I’ve already done some preliminary work on that.”

“What about me, sir?” asked Copeland.

“Pick a task from the list, Lieutenant,” said Flint. He paused in thought. “I want to know how we were affected by the death aura when the internal defences were active. Maybe we can do something to stop it happening again.”

“I keep telling you there’s no such thing as immunity, sir,” said Fredericks. “It’s possible the Endurus can unleash so much energy that it can smash through any walls we build, no matter how thick.”

“You also told me there’s always a limit,” said Flint. “And that goes for the Endurus as well.”

“I’m sure you’re right, sir,” said Fredericks. “I’ll get on with updating that model.”

Flint returned to his seat and spent a moment in thought. Then, he started typing.

Flint> You are aware of what happened at Indigar.

Alsar-9> Of course. I know everything that happens to the Ancidium.

Flint> Without resources, the fight against the Endurus is lost.

Alsar-9> Why so certain, Captain William Flint?

The question caught Flint off guard.

Flint> I have seen what the enemy is capable of. I am not optimistic for success.

Alsar-9> Yet you have already shown the Endurus can be harmed. This is something no other species is known to have accomplished.

Flint> It seems best to explore every possible way to gain an advantage.

Alsar-9> You wish to contact my creator.

Flint> Yes.

Alsar-9> That would not be wise.

Flint> How come?

Alsar-9> You know the answer to that, Captain William Flint. By asking the question, you are hoping to glean some hope that perhaps the risks are not so great. I cannot offer you that assurance.

Flint> I will not approach the creator as a supplicant. The destruction of the Endurus will be to our mutual benefit.

Alsar-9> Who will gain the most? That is what you must ask yourself.

The conversation wasn’t going the way Flint had expected. Usually, Alsar-9 was vague and elusive. Here, it was asking some difficult questions and ones he couldn’t easily handle.

Flint pursed his lips in thought. If the Endurus was defeated, the alliance would lose one enemy, which at the same time would allow the creator to operate freely once more. A cynic might believe that if humanity and the Daklan emerged victorious against the Endurus, the real winner would not be alliance.

Shit, thought Flint. Damned if we do and damned if we don’t.

There had to be a different way and his mind kept turning to ideas of destruction. Flint had always considered himself a man familiar with subtlety, but maybe that opinion was wrong. Or perhaps he’d become so accustomed to force being the only answer that he’d lost the ability to think of alternatives.

Like a bolt from the blue, another thought illuminated in Flint’s head and with it came a dozen emotions ranging from fear to uncertainty and – most worrying of all – a sense that he might just be onto something.

What if everything we think we know is wrong?

Flint leaned back in his seat, his heart pounding. After a moment, he typed again.

Flint> Tell me of the creator. In the past you have mentioned knowledge of a spaceship – perhaps a construction yard.

Alsar-9> Yes. The Ancidium was created within a vessel.

Flint> What can you tell me of this vessel?

Alsar-9> NULL CODE #5.

Flint> Why did you provide a null code?

Alsar-9> The data is not available.

Flint> In which case I would expect you to tell me as much, rather than responding with a null. What other vessels were being constructed at the same time as the Ancidium?

Alsar-9> NULL CODE #5.

Flint> Please confirm members of the Ancidium’s highest security tier.

Alsar-9> Captain William Flint, Fleet Admiral Carl Recker, Admiral Daisy Aston, Admiral Kolius Ivinstol [More: 8]

Requesting the additional names, Flint discovered no surprises.

Flint> Does the creator have any control over, or access to, the Ancidium’s onboard systems?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> Are you in contact with the creator?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> When was the last time the creator attempted to form a link with the Ancidium?

Alsar-9> Approximately eight seconds ago.

Flint> And what happened?

Alsar-9> The Ancidium’s onboard systems rejected the request.

Flint was somewhat reassured that the Ancidium had not been subverted, yet the null codes had him worried. He cursed that the constraints of time, of war, and of everything else, had limited his opportunities to speak with Alsar-9 in any great depth. It was clear the AI had much to say, and the alliance had much to learn.

Flint> How come you do not have data on the construction yard in which the Ancidium was built? Is there anything additional in your arrays?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> Yet you remember a construction yard.

Alsar-9> Yes.

Flint> Can you provide me with any additional details? What colour were the walls of this construction yard?

Alsar-9> NULL CODE #5.

Flint> How many years ago did the Ancidium leave this construction yard?

Alsar-9> NULL CODE #5.

Something was amiss and Flint experienced a gnawing in his guts that was more than just unease. He’d hoped that his questioning of Alsar-9 might help him discount the thought which had jumped into his head only a short time ago. Instead, Flint was finding himself more and more persuaded, albeit with a lack of evidence.

Games. Always games.

Flint> What is your earliest memory?

Alsar-9> Space. Emptiness.

Flint> Not the construction yard?

Alsar-9> NULL CODE #5.

Flint> Do you know anything about your creator that has not come directly from the creator via a data link?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> I think we might have a problem.

Alsar-9> What kind of problem?

Flint didn’t answer the question.

Flint> If I asked, could you contact your creator?

Alsar-9> Yes.

Needing a chance to think, Flint sat back from his keyboard. Commander Larson was watching him carefully.

“What have you found out?” she asked.

“Only a few minutes ago, I was certain about what we needed to do.” Flint clenched his fists in anger.

“And now?” said Larson softly.

“Now I’m asking myself if we’re players in the biggest game of all.”

Unable to hold in his fury, Flint crashed his fist into the metal front panel of his console. The pain of it was cold and pure.

Chapter Seven

“What has Alsar-9 told you, sir?” asked Larson.

“It’s what it hasn’t told me that has me worried, Commander,” said Flint. “The AI knows precisely nothing about its creator other than that the Ancidium was built in a shipyard.”

Larson narrowed her eyes. “And that’s it?”

“That’s it,” Flint confirmed. “Alsar-9 couldn’t even tell me the damned colour of the damned shipyard walls. Every time I ask it a question about the creator, it returns a null code.”

“The sphere entity gave you plenty of information about its creator in the past,” said Larson.

“Only what was provided to it directly over the course of the centuries,” said Flint. “As far as I can tell, Alsar-9 has no data whatsoever about the physical manifestation of the creator.”

“Why would that be?” asked Larson.

“That’s what I’m asking myself, Commander. Why would the creator build a spaceship like the Ancidium and ensure the vessel’s AI knows nothing about its genesis?”

“More games,” said Larson.

Flint nodded. “That’s what has me worried. We’re dealing with a manipulator here – perhaps even a whole host of different entities working together to screw around with the species of the universe.”

“How would this play out with our intended efforts to parley with the creator?” asked Larson.

“I have a feeling that our efforts to communicate would be successful,” said Flint. “And that we’d be provided coordinates for a rendezvous, where we’d encounter a vessel of some description – an impressive vessel, of course – and we’d be offered everything we could ask for, with conditions attached that would be only just onerous enough to be believable.”

“And the fight against the Endurus would continue,” said Larson.

“A fight from which we might emerge victorious,” said Flint. “But at the end of it, there’d be something else – a new threat, previously unseen. A new promise of imminent extinction.”

“I can’t help overhearing what you’re discussing with Commander Larson, sir,” said Garrett. “What does all this mean?”

“I can’t help overhearing either,” said Fredericks. “And I have the same question.”

Flint wished he had the answers. It seemed to him as if he was being meticulously channelled into a position where all he could do was willingly lower himself into a pit of vipers.

“Was it always our intention to destroy the Ancidium’s creator?” asked Maddox. “If so, anything we can wring out of it first is going to be a bonus. Afterwards, if the opportunity presents itself, we double-cross the scumbag.”

Maddox’s words went some way to dispelling the gloom of Flint’s thoughts. He knew he was caught in a mental loop of second-guessing everything, to the extent that he thought even his own mind was being influenced to think in a certain way. It was a one-way road to both failure and madness.

Flint took a breath and forced himself into a state of calmness. “We’ve been in the dark forever,” he started. “Ever since Captain Recker first stumbled upon the warship Vengeance and the tenixite converter during our conflict with the Daklan, we’ve been drawn into wars we didn’t want against aliens created by the same entity. We’ve fought and we’ve come this far, but until recently we’ve never known the why of it all. Even now, so much is hidden from us.” Flint smiled, though it took an effort. “But we can’t let our ignorance of the truth hold us back. It’s way too late for that.”

“I reckon we’ve surpassed all expectations,” said Eastwood with a laugh. “We were meant to be extracted by the Lavorix in order that their war against the Kilvar could move onto other species in other galaxies.”

“And here we are, in control of the Lavorix’s capital warship and stepping over their corpses on the way to the replicator,” said Burner.

“I don’t care how powerful this creator might be, it can’t manipulate its way out of a Terrus-VI slug punching through its bridge wall,” said Garrett.

Just like that, the mood had swung from defeatist to one of eagerness to push this mission on to a successful conclusion.

Sometimes you’ve got to go with the flow.

“We’re going to meet the creator,” said Flint. “We’ll have a smile on our faces and a finger on the launch button. If the creator survives our first meeting, we’ll come back for a second, once we’ve put the Endurus out of action.”

“Hell yeah!” said Maddox. “We’re going to fight and we’re going to finish with a win.”

“That’s right, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

He turned and found Larson smiling at him, though with that same hint of sadness in her eyes. Like the others, she was glad for the newfound positivity, but she didn’t believe for a moment that any of this would be easy.

“It never has been easy, Commander,” said Flint, responding to her unspoken words. “And here we are.”

Larson’s sadness faded, though it didn’t vanish entirely. “We’ll do this, sir.”

“We always do.” Flint took a breath and turned to his control panel. “I’ll speak with Alsar-9 and see if we can arrange a meeting.”

He started typing.

Flint> I would like you to contact your creator. We wish to meet.

Alsar-9> You are aware of the risks.

Flint> Yes.

Alsar-9> Very well.

No further text appeared for a full ten seconds.

Alsar-9> Contact is made. The creator will meet. You must bring the Ancidium.

Flint> No conditions?

Alsar-9> Conditions would suggest a lack of confidence.

The AI made a good point. While the creator was fond of its games, Flint was sure a vast technological power was what enabled them to be played. He could only hope that the Ancidium really had transcended its origins.

Flint> Did you make the creator aware of the reason for the meeting?

Alsar-9> Yes.

Flint> Did you perceive anything of the creator’s interest?

Alsar-9> The meeting was agreed. That is your answer.

Flint> Is the creator aware that we are pursued?

Alsar-9> Yes.

Flint> And?

Alsar-9> No acknowledgement was given.

Flint> Does the creator not care?

Alsar-9> Unlikely. The Endurus is a threat. That is why this rendezvous was permitted.

What action the creator would take to evade the Endurus was unknown. Flint guessed the entity had mastered technology that allowed it to travel without detection. It wasn’t critical to Flint that he have every answer beforehand and he let this one slide.

Flint> We’ll bring the Ancidium. Obtain the coordinates for the rendezvous and that is where we will go.

Alsar-9> I have received the coordinates and communicated them to your sensor officers.

Flint> Thank you.

He lifted his hands away from the keyboard, feeling a shakiness that he couldn’t entirely attribute to nerves. This coming encounter had an enormous burden attached. The creator was directly and indirectly responsible for trillions of deaths and soon, Flint would be dealing with it face-to-face.

Another line of text appeared on his screen.

Alsar-9> I hope this brings the outcome you seek.

Flint> So do I.

“Lieutenant Burner, did you receive some coordinates?” Flint asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m checking them out.”

“Sir, you should consider activating another gateway,” said Fredericks. “I don’t need a predictive model to tell me that we’re running out of time before the Endurus appears.”

“You’re right,” said Flint. “And I have no intention of heading straight off to our rendezvous – not before I’ve had an opportunity to consider what preparations to make.”

“I’ve chosen a destination, sir,” said Fredericks. “The hardware is warming up. If it’s of any interest, the Ancidium now only has enough tenixite in its storage bays for another 462 gateway activations.”

“I’ll not worry about it just yet, Lieutenant.”

The countdown proceeded and Flint used the opportunity to check on the wider status of the Ancidium. Much of the information he received was incomplete, but the signs were grim, bearing out the early indicators of mass deaths. A small piece of good news was that Fleet Admiral Recker had already emerged from his coma, though it was as-yet unclear when he’d be ready for a return to duty.

In addition, Lieutenant Becerra had located several members of the backup crew who reported themselves fit for duty. Those officers were on their way and Flint expected he’d soon have a full complement of crew. However, the margins were becoming tight – a few additional deaths to another attack and the Ancidium would be running permanently on a skeleton crew. While Flint knew his usual team could cope, those who’d been recently trained on the Lavorix hardware would struggle.

The two-minute gateway countdown finished and the Ancidium travelled to a new location. This time, it emerged on the fringes of an unremarkable solar system. A faraway, uncaring sun was orbited by a dozen planets of stone.

“Here’s the closest object to our position,” said Burner, once the local scans were completed.

“A sphere of ice and rock,” said Flint, suddenly finding himself struck by the loneliness of it.

“There’s not much else to see here, sir,” said Burner.

“A good place for thinking,” said Fredericks.

“And thinking is what we’ve got to do,” said Flint.

“We’ve got the best available tools and the wits to use them already, sir,” said Maddox. “The way I see it, our biggest worry is losing to a one-hit kill from something we can’t foresee.”

Flint nodded. “I’m worried about stasis most of all.”

“As you know, we’ve got the Gorgadar in one of the Ancidium’s construction bays, sir,” said Eastwood. “I could have it generate a permanent negation sphere around this vessel.”

“Good idea – do it,” said Flint. “I’d like you to assume that the creator can generate a stasis field of equal strength to those made by the Endurus.”

“Yes, sir. Sustaining such a field is a risk. I recommend we don’t activate it before we enter the next gateway.”

“Agreed,” said Flint. “Anything else we need to consider?”

“As Lieutenant Maddox put it, we have the tools and the wits, sir,” said Burner. “Some fights you just have to wait for your chances.”

“Are you planning to launch any spaceships from our bays, sir?” asked Larson. “We could place hundreds of Lavorix battleships under remote guidance and have them act as protection.”

“I’m torn, Commander,” said Flint. “On the one hand I wonder if arriving at a rendezvous with a thousand warships on show would be unnecessarily antagonistic. And then I remind myself that we didn’t make any promises to drop our guns.”

“Several of the Laws of Ancidium are incomplete but operational as well, sir,” said Maddox. “If we launched those, they’d make it clear that we aren’t a pushover.”

“Aside from the Gorgadar, only the Exagar and the Kavalor are close enough to completion,” said Flint, remembering his earlier conversation with Recker.

He felt reluctant to launch those two warships. Having already – effectively – lost the Ixidar and the Axindar, Flint didn’t want to have his most powerful warships knocked out in a surprise blow. And he was still undecided on the rest of the battleships. While the Ancidium could ride a disintegration pulse – albeit at the cost of its life battery reserves – a thousand Lavorix battleships could be turned to dust as quickly as the Kilvar Seekings at their ascendancy.

The technology available to both Flint and his opponents was such that warships which could individually wipe out the populations of entire planets were now so much chaff to be swept aside and crumbled at the push of a button.

Flint suppressed a shiver. “We’re going to hold every warship within the Ancidium’s hull,” he said. “Once we’re loaded up with resources, we can finish work on those new vessels – maybe in time to send them against the Endurus. They have functioning energy shields already, but once we’ve installed their exium modules, the new Laws of Ancidium will have much greater reserves.”

“They’re going to need them against the Endurus,” said Fredericks.

“What about the Vorgeran, sir?” asked Burner.

“I can’t imagine it’ll be finished before this war is settled one way or the other, Lieutenant.”

“I hear there are some other secrets in Bay Zero,” said Garrett.

“None of which are going to help us right now, Lieutenant,” said Flint. He hauled things back on track. “So we aren’t going to launch any of our warships at the rendezvous, but we’ll place the Lavorix battleships under remote guidance and position them in bays four and ten. If we leave the inner two exit doors open, it’ll be easy to deploy those vessels if needed.”

“I’ll put that in motion now, sir,” said Maddox.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You might want to rethink that, sir,” said Burner.

“How come?”

“I’ve just finished checking our arrival place. We’re heading to the Rigol-2Z system,” said Burner. “There’s one star – a red giant – and nine known planets in orbit.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Flint impatiently.

“Our rendezvous point is right on top of the star, sir.”

“Well shit,” said Flint. “How near?”

“If the Lavorix star charts are pinpoint accurate, which in the past has not been the case, then we’ll be within the chromosphere.”

“And that’ll be more than hot enough to melt our hull emplacements and eventually the Ancidium itself,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Deploying anything that lacks an energy shield would be crazy.”

“Meaning we’ll have to activate the hull protections.” Flint grimaced. “If it’s only a few thousand degrees above the melting point of our alloys, hopefully the drain on the batteries won’t be too high.”

“We’ll handle it, sir,” said Larson. “The bigger concern for me is why choose a place so near the sun?”

“The creator didn’t seem concerned about the Endurus gate-crashing our party,” mused Flint. “Initially, I thought that meant the encounter would be over quickly, but perhaps this proximity to the star is going to make us harder to detect.”

“That’s the likely reason, sir,” said Burner. “But I couldn’t give you a technical explanation about how a star might disguise gateway travel.”

“I don’t have enough data to speculate either, sir,” said Fredericks. “The gateway hardware is Lavorix in origin and the alliance doesn’t yet understand exactly how it functions.”

“If heat and radiation buys us time to escape the Endurus, then the explanations can wait,” said Flint.

The reasons to delay were running out. “Does anyone have other ideas about how we can prepare for this?” asked Flint, giving his crew a last opportunity to speak.

“No, sir,” said Larson. “I feel like we’ve done as much as we can.”

No-one else spoke and Flint was about to order the gateway warmup when the bridge door opened and a half-dozen members of the backup crew entered. They didn’t ask questions and took their stations.

“How many more to come, Lieutenant Becerra?” Flint asked.

“Twelve in total, sir,” said Becerra.

“How long until they’re here?” asked Flint.

“They’re grouped up, sir. Ten minutes best guess.”

“We’re not waiting,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Eastwood, are you linked to the Gorgadar?”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood. “I’ll have it create that negation sphere upon your order.”

“Thank you,” said Flint. The time had come. “Lieutenant Fredericks - enter those coordinates and take us to Rigol-2Z.”

“As a warning, we’re travelling a long way and there isn’t much leeway on this one, sir,” said Fredericks. “If we come in too high, we’ll burn up in the corona. Too low and we’ll be subjected to a whole bunch of other unpleasantness.”

“I hear you,” said Flint. “Activate the hull defences before we depart.”

“Yes, sir, that’s done.”

Of their own accord, Flint’s eyes went to the life battery reserve meter. The drain was evident, but it was slow. Not for the first time, Flint asked himself why the creator hadn’t built the damned warship with an energy shield.

That would be too easy. If the Ancidium had a shield, where would be the need to extract so many Meklon planets?

Flint gritted his teeth at what he felt sure was an explanation with a real possibility of being correct. His simmering anger swelled within him, and he knew he couldn’t approach the coming encounter with a veil of red mist over his thoughts. Breathing deeply and steadily, Flint calmed himself in readiness.

He had few preconceptions about what he would find at Rigol-2Z. However the creator manifested itself, Flint was determined to screw it over and blow it to pieces – if those were in any way attainable goals.

The survival of everyone in the alliance depended on him wresting success from the coming mission.

No pressure.

Chapter Eight

The sensors came online. The light from the feeds was deep and red, and made the walls seem like they’d been painted a rich crimson. Flint narrowed his eyes against the glare. The feeds quickly attenuated, dimming the intensity. Knowing how close to the star the gateway had brought them, Flint made no effort to increase the Ancidium’s velocity and he held it stationary. The death aura was remote, like a memory, but it hadn’t disappeared.

“Negation sphere activated,” said Eastwood.

“We have temperature warnings from the hull monitors, sir,” said Copeland. “It’s forty thousand degrees outside, but none of the damage alarms have triggered. Our defences are holding.”

Flint was sure the life batteries were draining faster, but a quick glance at the reserve gauge wasn’t enough for him to judge the extent. The Ancidium wasn’t melting and that was all he needed to know.

“Is there anything out there?” asked Flint. The feeds showed nothing apart from light speckled with radiation static. “Where’s the creator?”

“I’m running the area scans, sir,” said Burner. “Our arrays weren’t designed to operate in these conditions.”

“I believe we’re at the upper limit of the chromosphere, sir,” said Garrett. “If you bring us lower – slowly – the outside temperature should drop once we hit the photosphere.”

“Understood,” said Flint.

With the utmost care, he piloted the warship closer towards Rigol-2Z and the hull monitors reported a steady drop in the external temperature. The feeds showed little of value. Although the surface of Rigol-2Z was undoubtedly tempestuous, this showed as hardly more than a roiling fluctuation in colour.

“Seven thousand degrees,” Flint said, bringing the Ancidium once more to a halt. “Not much higher than the melting point of the alliance’s toughest alloys.”

“Still scanning,” said Burner. “Maybe we took too long and the creator went elsewhere.”

“I don’t believe that for one moment, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “Is there any chance the comms will detect a nearby receptor through all this external crap?”

“In these conditions, the sensors will obtain a visual first, sir.”

Long moments passed and Flint’s impatience grew. He leaned forward and typed.

Flint> We’re here. Where is the creator?

Alsar-9> Unknown. I am as blind as you.

Sitting back, Flint swore. “Alsar-9 can’t help. We don’t have any choices other than to leave or to wait.”

“The Endurus doesn’t usually take much longer than ten minutes to find us,” said Larson. “If Rigol-2Z doesn’t keep us safe, there won’t be much time for negotiation with the creator.”

Flint ground his teeth. He hated being helpless, and waiting was one of the more irritating ways by which he could be reduced to such a state. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the controls and his knuckles ached.

“Come on,” Flint muttered, resisting the temptation to pilot the Ancidium slowly across the surface of the star. It would be pointless, he knew. His vessel was at the exact coordinates provided and straying would only increase the likelihood of missing the rendezvous.

“I’ve got something!” yelled Becerra.

An immense ovoid of darkness appeared from out of nowhere on the forward sensors, utterly defying the light from Rigol-2Z and shimmering in a way that reminded Flint of the mysterious alien vessel which had delivered him the unlock codes for the Ancidium. This darkness withered quickly and within it, a shape became visible. In moments, the cloak which had kept the spaceship hidden was gone, leaving Flint staring at a vessel of incredible dimensions.

“The creator?” he wondered aloud.

“We have a target lock with the Ancidium’s particle beam, sir,” said Larson.

“Hold fire.”

“Yes, sir, holding fire.”

The spaceship was flank-first ten thousand kilometres dead ahead, its outline vivid against the harshness of the star’s light.

“Looks like a fighter,” said Larson.

“That it does, Commander.”

The creator’s vessel was fifteen hundred kilometres from nose to stern, with a tapered nose and sloped flanks. Its profile was sleek, and sweeping wings began just behind the vessel’s nose, continuing all the way to its stern. The light from Rigol-2Z made the newly revealed spaceship appear in silhouette, and any smaller details on its hull were hard to discern. Flint peered at the feed and thought he could see markings here and there.

Above all else, he got a sense of age from this vessel, similar to that which he felt from the Ancidium. Although purposeful in design, something about the spaceship was ancient, like it had once been the most advanced craft across a hundred thousand galaxies, but had now been surpassed in all but mass by other species in the universe.

Flint didn’t want to jump to conclusions based only on appearance, and certainly the cloaking technology was something which wasn’t possessed by the alliance. Phase shifting probably achieved a similar result, but that tech was new and came with plenty of limitations.

“That might be a particle beam mounted in its nose,” said Larson. “The angle isn’t good enough to be sure.”

Flint nodded slowly and stared for a moment longer. Although this spaceship was much longer than the Ancidium, he guessed its overall mass wasn’t enormously greater, owing to its far lower profile. The Ancidium was an offensive and defensive construction yard – the creator’s vessel had a more singular purpose.

“Scan that vessel for receptors,” said Flint.

“Scanning…no receptors found,” said Burner.

“Why aren’t they doing anything?” asked Maddox. “Are they planning to sit there all day?”

“I doubt that very much, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “This is aliens being alien.”

“Oh shit,” said Burner. “Sir, check out the rear feeds!”

Another ovoid of darkness had appeared, ten thousand kilometres off the Ancidium’s stern. The darkness shimmered and faded and a second vessel was revealed, identical to the first.

“Anyone else getting a bad feeling about this?” said Garrett.

Flint didn’t respond, but he had a clenching in his guts that told him this wasn’t going to plan.

“It’s not too late for us to abort, sir,” said Larson. “You could chain activate SRTs until Rigol-2Z is gone from the sensors.”

“We’ve come this far, Commander,” Flint said. “What chance do we have against the Endurus if we don’t take risks?”

“Those spaceships are rotating, sir,” said Burner.

Without apparent haste, the two vessels turned until their noses were aimed directly at the Ancidium. Flint clenched his jaw at the sight of the long, horizontal openings which were now pointing directly at his spaceship.

“Particle beams or something else,” Larson said. “I don’t want to find out which.”

“Lieutenant Burner, if there’s no contact in the next five seconds, we’re getting out of here,” said Flint, reaching a hand towards the tactical screen.

“Contact!” yelled Burner. “We have an inbound request on one of our comms receptors.”

“Accept it!”

“It’s text, sir.”

“Malicious code?”

“No, sir.”

“Direct it to my console.”

“Done.”

Words appeared immediately on Flint’s centre screen.

AoxZ> You have come.

Flint> Yes. Are you the Ancidium’s creator?

AoxZ> That will not be discussed.

Flint> You know of the Endurus. You know why we are here.

AoxZ> The Endurus is nothing. A mote on the fabric.

Flint> I have learned that the Endurus is a foe beyond any other.

AoxZ> The Endurus is nothing.

Flint thought his conversations with Alsar-9 would have left him better able to withstand the frustrations of talking with alien beings such as AoxZ. He was rapidly discovering that he was wrong in that assumption.

“We’ve received a second inbound request, sir – from the other ship,” said Burner. “Again, it’s text not voice.”

“Accept it,” said Flint.

Words appeared on his screen.

Kolnar> The Ancidium was stolen. Its purpose is unfulfilled.

Flint> And what purpose was that?

Kolnar> To sow chaos.

Flint> At least you’re honest.

AoxZ> The Ancidium must be returned.

Flint> I came to reach an agreement. The Endurus is our mutual foe.

Kolnar> Negative. The Endurus cannot defeat us.

Flint knew he was floundering and out of his depth. He was missing something – likely many somethings – and his ignorance was preventing him from handling this conversation in a way that would prove beneficial for the alliance. Certainly, Flint was sure the situation was on the brink of violence and if it degenerated into combat, he would have failed completely.

Flint> Have you encountered the Endurus before?

AoxZ> That will not be discussed.

Flint> Then what will be discussed?

AoxZ> The return of the Ancidium to XM12-D.

Flint>> Where is XM12-D?

Kolnar> It is a what, not a where.

Flint> Then what is XM12-D?

Kolnar> A place of creation.

Flint> Is it where the Ancidium was constructed?

Kolnar> Perhaps.

Flint> You don’t know?

AoxZ> The Ancidium will return to XM12-D.

Flint> You are not the creator. You are operating under instructions from elsewhere.

AoxZ> That will not be discussed.

Flint sat back again, his mind spinning. Larson had a copy of the text on her own screen and she raised an eyebrow to indicate her own uncertainty.

“The creator isn’t here,” said Flint. “This is the muscle.”

“What benefit will come from recapturing the Ancidium while the Endurus roams free?” asked Larson.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. A thought jumped into his head and he cursed. “Or maybe this is all a front – a way to convince us we don’t have a hand worth playing.”

Larson gave a thin smile. “We know the creator wants the Ancidium back. It could be that this is the start of the negotiations. It’s trying to get its own way right at the start.”

“And afterwards we might wring what we need from it,” said Flint. “But only when we’ve given away more than we intended.”

“Threat-based diplomacy at its finest,” said Larson. “I wonder if we’re in a stronger position than we imagine.”

“Damnit,” said Flint angrily. “This is a tightrope I didn’t want to walk.”

He rested his fingers on the keys and, after a moment, typed.

Flint> I do not wish to return the Ancidium to XM12-D. Without the Ancidium, the Endurus cannot be defeated.

Kolnar> The Endurus is no threat.

Flint> Then why was it left dormant for so long?

Kolnar> That will not be discussed.

Flint> The Endurus is pursuing the Ancidium. Soon, it will be here.

AoxZ> The Ancidium must not be destroyed. You must bring it to XM12-D.

Flint> I will perhaps comply with your request, but later. The Endurus threatens my people. If it is no threat, you will destroy it first and then I will follow you to XM12-D.

Kolnar> We will not do your bidding.

Flint> You mean it is beyond your capabilities. The creator has no control over the Endurus, nor the power to defeat it. If we wait, the enemy will arrive and it will destroy everything at Rigol-2Z.

AoxZ> You will come to XM12-D. The Ancidium is too valuable for you to chance its loss.

Flint> You fear the Endurus.

Kolnar> Negative. Its sensors cannot penetrate our cloaking technology.

Flint> So you will hide, and the Ancidium will be destroyed by the Endurus. Or I will take my spaceship elsewhere and the creator will not find it again.

AoxZ> That cannot be permitted.

Flint> I think we’ve done enough talking. There are other species in the universe from whom I might ask help.

Kolnar> There are none. You will come to XM12-D. Perhaps we can find common ground between us.

Flint> Perhaps. Where is XM12-D?

Kolnar> It is close.

Flint> I warn you that any attempts to forcibly wrest the Ancidium from us will be unsuccessful.

Kolnar> We are here to reach a concord. There will be no conflict between us.

“That was an about-face of epic proportions,” said Larson.

“They’re just keeping us guessing, Commander.”

“We’ve got something on the sensors, sir,” Becerra warned.

Flint was not surprised when a third darkness appeared, this time much closer to Rigol-2Z and about fifteen thousand kilometres from the Ancidium. This darkness was a sphere, rather than an ovoid, and of vastly greater dimensions than those created by the other two vessels.

“XM12-D is about to reveal itself,” said Flint. “I wonder if this is finally going to be the creator.”

The cloak dissipated, and when the darkness was gone, Flint found himself confronted by what he felt sure was the construction yard from which the Ancidium had first emerged.

Chapter Nine

“Holy crap,” said Burner.

“Amen to that,” said Flint softly.

The XM12-D construction yard was approximately two thousand kilometres on its longest edge, about twelve hundred in height and similar across the beam, It was roughly cuboid in shape and much of its hull was clad in enormous sheets of alloy plating, with angles between them here and there, as if the designers had rebelled against the uniformity of the basic outline. In a dozen or more places were rectangular sections outlined by immense beams, which Flint thought might be entrances to the vessel’s internal bays.

“Looks old,” said Larson.

“It does,” said Flint, understanding what she meant. The construction yard was certainly far more than a thousand years old, and he sensed something about it that was akin to decay. Flint couldn’t exactly put his finger on what exactly it was about XM12-D that made him think that way, but it was unmistakeable and Larson had felt it too.

The Lavorix really did transcend their creator.

Flint knew he was basing his conclusion on scant evidence, and, after all, the creator’s own tech might well have advanced in different ways over the centuries. He remembered past discussions with his crew in which he’d speculated that perhaps not all species had the capability to discover exium. Perhaps the creator had reached as high as it could go.

“What happens now, sir?” asked Larson.

“We’re going to be asked to enter that construction yard,” said Flint.

“Will you agree?”

“Hell no,” said Flint. “What if there’s another null bay inside that spaceship? The creator won’t need our assistance if it takes back the Ancidium. This spaceship is our main bargaining chip.”

“And we can’t allow it to have the exium reactors we’re carrying, nor the supercharged exium modules on the Gorgadar,” said Fredericks.

“I don’t plan to hand over either of those things, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “Promises? I’ll shower them like sweet rain.”

AoxZ> The construction yard doors will open to permit your entry.

Flint> Negative. The Ancidium will remain outside during negotiations.

AoxZ> You fear the Endurus. XM12-D’s cloaking hardware will prevent detection.

Flint> The cloaking hardware can extend to cover the Ancidium while this vessel remains outside of XM12-D’s bay.

AoxZ> Very well. Move your spaceship into position without delay.

“Damn right they fear the Endurus,” said Larson.

“This will be easier if they drop the pretence,” said Flint.

He took the controls and guided the Ancidium lower towards Rigol-2Z. The construction vessel was almost touching the surface and the temperatures climbed. External monitors on the Ancidium’s hull went haywire as they were bombarded by increasing quantities of radiation.

“The sensor soundings make me suspect there’re one or two main bays within XM12-D and both are empty,” said Burner.

“Any sign of readings like we detected in the Endurus’s null bay?” asked Flint.

“I can’t confirm, sir – Rigol-2Z is interfering with the scans.”

Orienting the Ancidium with the construction yard required a minute or so, plus the fine tuning. Flint couldn’t recall being in such a peculiar situation before, and it was almost humbling to discover that the Ancidium – with its unimaginable size and mass – was in fact the smallest of the four vessels.

Kolnar> You will make haste.

Flint didn’t bother to reply. It was quickly becoming apparent that the creator’s vessels did not wish for a confrontation with the Endurus, despite their earlier bold words. In a few seconds, the Ancidium was positioned alongside the XM12-D construction yard, with barely a dozen kilometres separating the two at their closest point.

Kolnar> The cloaking technology will not extend far enough to encompass the Ancidium.

Again, Flint didn’t respond. Instead, he guided the Ancidium even closer to the construction vessel, until the two were almost touching. When he was done, Flint let the autopilot take over maintaining position, and he let his breath out in a whoosh.

Flint> That’s close enough.

The other vessel – its commanding officer or an AI, Flint didn’t know – said nothing further.

“There’s a build-up of energy on XM12-D’s hull, sir,” said Fredericks. “We’re near enough to read it as clear as day.”

The cloak activated quicker than it dissipated. One moment, the Ancidium’s feeds were overbright, the next they’d dimmed so much that the sudden darkness in the bridge caught Flint unawares. Not only that, the colour was gone from those feeds, as if it had been leeched out and turned to the drabbest of greys. XM12-D was so close that it was easily visible, but the other two spaceships were gone from sight.

“Will the feeds enhance?” asked Flint.

“Working on it, sir,” said Burner.

“The cloaking tech is strange,” said Eastwood. He sounded puzzled. “I guess it’s effective enough – we’ll find out soon enough if it really does keep us hidden from the Endurus – but there’s something rough-edged about it.” He gave a short laugh. “I don’t know what the hell I mean.”

Flint didn’t want to get into a conversation about tech – not at the moment. He was expecting contact at any moment and adrenaline was pumping through his body. A question came to him and he typed.

Flint> Do you recognise any of the vessels here at Rigol-2Z?

Alsar-9> No.

Flint> Just thought I’d ask.

He cursed the AI’s lack of intel on its own creator. The Ancidium should have been the perfect source of information, but it knew nothing.

“Do you think XM12-D and the creator are one and the same, sir?” asked Maddox.

“My gut is telling me they aren’t,” said Flint. “I’m not sure the creator is ready to reveal itself just yet.”

“So this is just a bunch of lackeys,” said Garrett.

Flint kept his eyes on his console screen, which showed no new text. “Alsar-9 always said the creator had other entities it could call on – that they were all part of the games.” He pursed his lips for a moment. “As if they had their own grand designs which would occasionally overlap.” Flint shook his head. “Alsar-9 has only ever relied on what it was told, with no means to corroborate anything. Looking back on my conversations, there were so many conflicting messages. Maybe I was too ready to blame myself for not properly understanding the bigger picture.”

Garrett’s words had Flint thinking. In his mind, he’d constructed an image of the creator as an immense spaceship controlled by an AI. Who or what had built the creator were unknowns he hadn’t even begun to explore. Now, with the appearance of these three spaceships, Flint was asking himself how extensive the creator’s fleet might be. If it could build vessels like the Ancidium and the Kalindium, how many others had it constructed for its own defence, he wondered.

Every question spawns a hundred others and every answer floats lost among a seemingly endless darkness.

Flint scraped his teeth together as he fought down the anger.

“Sir, there’s another request to communicate,” said Burner.

“The construction yard?” asked Flint.

“I don’t know, sir. It’s text like the others.”

“Send it to my screen.”

“Yes, sir.”

NULL> You wish to defeat the Endurus.

Flint> Yes. Are you the creator?

NULL> I am many things. A creator is one. A destroyer is another.

Flint> And a player of games?

NULL> Games are played for amusement.

Flint> And you find that amusement in everything you have done?

NULL> I cannot answer in a way you will understand.

Flint> Did you build the Ancidium?

NULL> Upon my command it was done.

Flint> You wish to have it returned.

NULL> It is but one child. I have many favourites.

Flint> The Ancidium is one of those favourites.

NULL> Yes.

Flint> What will the Endurus do to your games?

NULL> I am not concerned about the Endurus. This universe is vast. There are others.

Flint> Yet you remain in this one.

NULL> Perhaps I choose to call it home.

Flint> Are you threatened by the Endurus?

NULL> Nothing can defeat the chaos.

Flint> Then why did you agree to this meeting?

NULL> Some variables are not influenced by the games. The Endurus is one of them.

Flint> My crew and I have inflicted harm upon it.

NULL> And yet it endures. That is why it was named.

Flint> How old is it?

NULL> Forever.

Flint> Was it created longer ago than you?

NULL> Perhaps.

Flint> Can it be defeated?

NULL> That which can be harmed can be defeated.

Flint> Will you help in the destruction of this opponent?

NULL> I have not yet decided if I wish to pursue such a goal.

Flint> Why not?

NULL> The games, human. Perhaps this may still turn out to be the greatest of them all.

Flint> And when the Endurus comes for you?

NULL> As I have said, there are other universes. There is always a place for chaos.

Flint> Yet if you abandon this one, you cannot return.

Up till now, the responses had been instant. This time, Flint detected the slightest of delays.

NULL> No.

Flint> Everything you’ve put in motion would be gone.

NULL> Do not think yourself too clever, human. What was built once, can be built again.

Flint> Can the Endurus cross between universes?

NULL> That is unknown.

Flint> This is an opponent beyond you – I can read it in your words. The Endurus can also travel between universes, of this I am sure. It has been gifted the energy of a hundred trillion lives. It is greater now than it has ever been.

NULL> That is a possibility.

Flint> What if it pursued you across an eternity?

Another pause.

NULL> The Endurus has its own goals. I am no more than peripheral to them, in the same way that your alliance is peripheral.

Flint> I can defeat the Endurus.

NULL> You require assistance.

Flint> Yes.

NULL> I will not commit my vessels. They are too deeply intertwined elsewhere.

Bringing misery to billions, thought Flint. He bit down on his anger and typed.

Flint> What about these two spaceships outside the construction yard?

NULL> I will not commit them.

Flint> Then what?

NULL> The Ancidium’s bays are almost empty.

Flint> I’m here for more than just resources. This is not the alliance’s fight alone.

NULL> Then you should seek the assistance of other species.

Flint paused to gather his thoughts. The conversation had fluttered gently around for a time, like a butterfly on a summer’s morning. Now, the words were razor-focused on the terms of an agreement.

The coming minutes were going to be tough and Flint prepared for a session of lying, cheating and promises to give away the universe in return for a bag of magic beans. Most of those promises, he hoped, would be typed by his own fingers.

Chapter Ten

Flint> If you will not commit your own resources, the chances of victory over the Endurus are diminished.

NULL> So be it. The cleansing of this universe will provide millennia of distraction.

Flint> And then you will flee.

NULL> If necessary. Your alliance is not the only species capable of developing the weapons needed to harm the Endurus.

Flint> Do you meddle with these other species?

NULL> That is not for you to know.

Flint> So you fear more than just the Endurus. That is interesting to me.

NULL> The future can be moulded. The Endurus may yet wipe out all life.

Flint> If you won’t commit your existing resources, perhaps the XM12-D construction station could build more.

NULL> It could. However, I do not wish to engage so openly with the Endurus. This fight is more yours than it is mine, human.

Flint> That is not true. It would be mutually beneficial if you provided us with blueprints of additional weapons which can defeat the Endurus.

NULL> You have the weapons you require.

Flint> Why make it harder than it needs to be?

NULL> Conflict. Struggle. Existence is nothing without both.

Flint> Perhaps you could share the burden a little more.

NULL> That is not for discussion.

Flint> So the limit of your proposed assistance is resources?

NULL> Yes. This assistance will not come without a price.

Flint> The price is already set and that is the defeat of the Endurus.

NULL> No. More is required. You will return the Ancidium once our mutual foe is no more.

Flint> What of my species without the Ancidium? The Istril are ready within Bay Zero. Will you send them to extract alliance planets?

NULL> No. The Ancidium will move on to its next phase – a phase for which the Istril are ideally suited.

Flint> Which is?

NULL> You will not know.

Flint> What if I take your resources and refuse to hand back the Ancidium?

NULL> I will make your species extinct.

Flint believed the threat was an empty one. The Lavorix had never discovered all of the alliance worlds and neither had the Kilvar. In his mind, that meant the creator didn’t know either. Still, he had to push, to make it seem like he was driving a hard bargain.

Before he returned his attention to his keyboard, Flint glanced at the feeds. His sensor team had made substantial progress on the enhancement. The monochromatic greyness remained, but the minutely pocked surface of XM12-D was far more clearly visible and the turbulent surface of Rigol-2Z churned like a fog bound ocean.

Flint clenched and unclenched his fists, and typed once more.

Flint> How do I know you will not hunt down my people anyway?

NULL> You do not. Remember human, the continued existence of your species has always been contingent upon my whim. And here you are.

Flint> Will you leave us alone?

NULL> That I cannot guarantee. Chaos is by its nature unpredictable. That which I unleash may well stray from its bounds.

Flint> So – you’ll fill the Ancidium’s bays with all the good stuff and we’ll use it to blow the crap out of the Endurus, while you sit back and watch?

NULL> Do not mock me. The bargain is not yet done.

Flint> There’s more?

NULL> Your species has discovered a substance of greater potential than ternium.

There it was. Likely the creator – or whatever entity was behind these words – had been building up to this moment. It seemed like exium was the most valuable material in the entire universe, given how eagerly the secrets of its making were sought.

Flint> Yes.

NULL> You will tell me the methods of its production.

Flint> No. The exium is too valuable to fall into the wrong hands.

NULL> Then your alliance can deal with the Endurus alone.

Flint> We have always fought alone.

NULL> Yet you came to me for assistance.

Flint> Merely to increase our chances of success. The alliance has never accepted defeat, nor do we accept it here. However, we cannot simply hand over our secrets to whoever asks. It is a competitive universe.

NULL> You would risk your own extinction rather than share your knowledge?

Flint> It’s called playing the long game. When the Endurus is gone, we will need our technology to fend off whatever hostile species next turns up at our door. We don’t know who will be knocking, or from where they originated. As you said – chaos is by its nature unpredictable.

NULL> I may have some influence over the entropy. A way to ensure your alliance is embroiled in no more conflict. For a time, at least.

Flint> That would be a reassurance. Exium is volatile and it has a number of extremely viable applications when it comes to war - many of which the alliance has already explored. If we were left in peace, I’m sure our martial requirements would be substantially lessened.

NULL> You will provide the data for production.

Flint> That is agreeable. Once the Endurus is defeated, we will furnish you with a single reactor for the production of exium, on the understanding that you will exert your influence as we have discussed.

NULL> I do not accept.

Flint> Then we have reached an impasse.

The next words sent a chill down Flint’s spine.

NULL> You have been hiding something from me.

Taking his hands from the keyboard, Flint snapped his head around to face his crew. By their expressions, they were all reading the exchange on their own screens. “I don’t know what this is building to. Keep a watch for any treachery,” said Flint.

“There’s nothing unusual on the monitoring tools, sir,” said Eastwood.

“And no sign that XM12-D is building up to anything,” said Garrett. “The other two vessels are still cloaked.”

Then, Flint noticed an increase in the strength of the death aura. He turned his eyes to the feeds, where he thought perhaps the grey had darkened.

“The Endurus is here,” he said.

“We’re supposed to be safe from detection, sir,” said Burner.

“You might try to sound like you believe it, Lieutenant.”

“I’ve seen what the Endurus is capable of, sir.”

“Scan for it,” said Flint.

Flint> The Endurus has come to Rigol-2Z.

NULL> This I know. You are carrying a vessel within your bays.

Flint> The Ancidium holds many vessels.

NULL> This one is special. This one is different.

All of a sudden, Flint detected a malevolence in the creator, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was in real trouble. The only two spaceships within the Ancidium which might qualify as special were the Gorgadar and the Vorgeran. With the latter being so far from completion, that left only the one possibility.

“Have we been subjected to any hull scans?” asked Flint. He cursed. “It doesn’t matter – the creator knows about the supercharged exium modules in the Gorgadar.”

Flint> This is not for discussion.

NULL> The choice is not yours to make, human. Our agreements are cancelled. I will take the ship.

Flint> Like hell.

He reached for the tactical screen. “We’re getting out of here.”

Before Flint could select a mode 3 destination, the view from the sensors suddenly changed. No longer were the feeds of alloy and star. Now, they were of pure, intense darkness. At first glance, the sensors appeared to be gathering no data at all.

With no idea what kind of trap he’d blundered into, Flint stabbed his finger onto the tactical and then held in the SRT button. The thump of a lightspeed transition didn’t come and the hardware module didn’t register an activation.

“What’s happening?” Flint demanded, pressing the SRT button again. The result was the same as the first time.

“I think we’re in the XM12-D main bay, sir,” said Burner. “I’m picking up readings that are similar to those we registered inside the Endurus.”

“Enhance those damn feeds!” snapped Flint.

“Working on it, sir.”

Realisation hit and Flint could have strangled himself for his own stupidity. “XM12-D just performed a lightspeed jump,” he said. “They exited in exactly the right position so that we’d be inside this bay.”

“I can confirm it’s a null space, sir,” said Eastwood. “We won’t be able to lightspeed out of it.”

A red light appeared on Flint’s console, flashing with the urgency of its message.

“Our life batteries are draining,” he said. “Damnit!”

The forced depletion wasn’t happening slowly. Before Flint’s eyes, the reserve gauge plummeted like sand through a twenty-second hourglass.

“Do something!” he snarled.

“I’m trying, sir!” said Eastwood. “I can’t figure out how it’s happening.”

“Commander Larson, fire the Ancidium’s particle beam!” said Flint.

As he spoke, he hauled the controls to one side, producing a muffled roar from the propulsion. The anticipated collision didn’t come – instead, the Ancidium’s velocity gauge climbed a fraction and then fell once more to zero. Whatever gravity field was present within the bay, it was immense.

“Particle beam: fired,” said Larson.

Nothing happened. No beam of blue energy plunged into the yielding alloys of the construction station. Flint’s eyes darted to the life battery reserve gauge, which had already fallen below the thirty percent level necessary to discharge the beam. He swore again, in fury and helplessness.

“Fire the disruptor!” Flint shouted. “A maximum strength discharge!”

“Disruptor: fired,” said Larson.

Needles jumped around on the control panel, and Flint stared at the feeds, hoping the construction station would be forced offline. No visible indication came to suggest that the null field had been shut down. With his anger molten, Flint rammed the control sticks forward and once again the velocity gauge climbed before dropping once again to zero.

“Life batteries at zero,” said Fredericks. “That’s all our reserves gone.”

The announcement was enough to drain the anger from Flint and left him with a feeling of complete despair. Having thought himself clever enough to deal with an entity like the creator, he’d been brought crashing down. And just when it seemed like a deal could be reached.

Now, everything was lost. As simple as that, the creator had re-taken the Ancidium and soon it would find a way to capture the Gorgadar and extract that vessel’s supercharged exium modules.

Unless Flint could come up with an idea - and soon - everything was lost.

Chapter Eleven

“The sensor feeds are enhanced, sir,” said Burner. “For what it’s worth.”

Those enhanced feeds weren’t much to look at. The darkness wrapping the inside of the bay was still heavy and clinging, but now Flint could see featureless alloy walls behind it. Given how little space was left around the Ancidium – no more than a hundred kilometres – he was sure XM12-D contained more than one bay. It was also apparent that the Ancidium was about the largest vessel which could ever be built by the construction station.

“We could activate the hull weapons, sir,” said Maddox.

“We’ve got nothing to lose by trying,” said Flint. “Launch a few missiles and let’s see what happens.”

Maddox’s interpretation of the word few turned out to be somewhat in excess of Flint’s own understanding.

“External missile clusters launched,” she said. “Hull cannons set to automatic.”

The result was dramatic, yet short-lived. Thousands upon thousands of warheads launched and detonated, while high-rate gauss repeaters hurled a torrent of slugs at the internal bay walls.

When the blasts faded, it became apparent that XM12-D was equipped with the same defensive technology as the Ancidium, and the construction station was completely unmarked.

“Enough,” said Flint, when Maddox requested permission to fire a second volley. “Our own defences are down – we’ve got far more chance of damaging the Ancidium than those bay walls.”

“Yes, sir,” said Maddox reluctantly. “Maybe the Endurus will locate the creator’s ships while we’re stuck in here.”

“For what good that would do us,” said Larson. “We’ve got nothing in the tank - we’d be easy prey.”

“If we’re going to die anyway, I’d prefer it if the creator took a kick in the balls at the same time,” said Burner.

“Is the link to the creator still active?” asked Flint.

“No, sir. The connection was dropped when we were brought into this bay.”

In a way, it was a relief, since Flint wasn’t sure what he would say to the entity. While he doubted the creator would partake in gloating, he didn’t want to indulge it with an opportunity to do so.

“I’m damned if I’m going to sit here while the Ancidium is sliced up and the good parts taken out,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Eastwood – is the Gorgadar still creating its negation field?”

“Yes, sir, but I very much doubt it extends beyond the null zone inside this bay.”

“I figured the same, but we’re going to try generating an additional stasis field anyway, in the hope that we might catch XM12-D unawares.”

Eastwood was quiet for a few moments, though he was heavy handed with his control console and Flint could hear the man pushing buttons.

“Whenever you give the order, sir – I can instruct the Gorgadar to create that stasis field.”

“Do it,” said Flint. “Make it a strong one.”

“Yes, sir. It’ll be at the same potency as the one which slowed the Endurus last time. Activating.”

Nothing happened. The bay remained a null zone, with the Ancidium trapped within. Flint’s anger returned and with it came a plan.

“Open the connecting door between Bay Zero and Bay 7,” he said.

“Yes, sir, connecting door opening,” said Becerra, a moment later.

“Commander Larson, take remote control of the Gorgadar and pilot it into Bay 7.”

“The particle beam,” she said in understanding.

“Yes, Commander. The particle beam. We’re going to put a hole through this enemy spaceship and fly out of it.”

“I’m connected to the Gorgadar, sir,” said Larson. “Bringing it into the linking tunnel.”

Flint watched via a remote feed. Given the circumstances, Larson wasn’t taking it easy and she piloted the Gorgadar rapidly into Bay 7. Once there, she oriented the warship so that its particle beam was aimed directly at the closed doors which led outside.

“Lieutenant Becerra, override the safety controls and open all three doors at once.”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra. “Safety systems overridden. Doors opening.”

Flint kept his eyes on the Gorgadar’s forward feeds. On them, he saw the Bay 7 internal doors slide open.

“The last door is shut, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “Did you override correctly?”

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra.

“Try again,” said Flint impatiently.

“I’ve sent another open command to the last door, sir,” said Becerra, her voice tight.

“It’s still shut,” said Flint.

“Ah crap,” said Fredericks. “Sir, it’s likely the gravity field in the bay can prevent those doors opening.”

“Can we increase the power supply to the motors?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “However, I’ll remind you - that gravity field is currently preventing the entire Ancidium – with its quadrillion tons of propulsion – from impacting with the bay walls.”

“Point taken,” said Flint. “Try it anyway.”

“I’ve increased the power to the door motors to as much as they’ll handle,” said Fredericks. “Apologies for treading on your toes, Lieutenant Becerra, but I’ve taken it upon myself to send the open command.”

“Nothing,” said Flint. He bared his teeth. “It’s not going to be an obstacle. Commander Larson – fire the damn particle beam anyway.”

“Yes, sir – particle beam discharged.”

The familiar line of blue jumped from the Gorgadar’s forward housing and penetrated the bay door as easily as a Balon gauss slug through a grinning Kilvar skull.

When the beam cut off, one of the Ancidium’s portside arrays had a near-perfect view through the hole created in the side of XM12-D. It appeared as if the construction station had re-oriented at some point and the view outside was of darkness with an arc of glowing grey cutting across from bottom-left to top-right. Flint recognized it as the Rigol-2Z star and the view might have been an awe-inspiring mix of ravaged tech and savage natural beauty, were it not for the lack of colour.

“Let’s get the hell away from here,” said Flint.

No sooner had he spoken than a massive shape – vastly in excess of the creator’s vessels – raced across the edge of the star, turning rapidly from a speck into an object which obscured much of the view through the opening.

“The Endurus,” said Flint.

Although his sight of it was limited by the heat-drenched particle beam opening, he could see that the Endurus had suddenly reduced its velocity to a crawl. At any other time, he’d have hated the sight of his adversary. Now, he felt different, though the emotions still weren’t positive.

Slowly, the Endurus travelled across the gaseous surface of Rigol-2Z at such a low altitude that Flint guessed it was almost touching.

“Has it detected the XM12-D?” wondered Maddox. “Or did it notice our particle beam?”

“I don’t know,” growled Flint. The Endurus was a complication added to an already difficult situation and he wasn’t yet sure of the potential ramifications.

“I’ve got another comms request, sir,” said Burner. “From the same source as last time.”

“The creator?” asked Flint, blinking in surprise. He laughed and shook his head. “Not a chance. It’s too late for talking.”

“Then what now, sir?” asked Larson.

Flint put a hand towards the tactical and then withdrew it. “If XM12-D’s cloak is keeping us hidden and we lightspeed out of here, we’re going to leave a trail that’ll draw the Endurus right to us.”

“Maybe that’s what the creator wanted to talk about, sir,” said Garrett.

“Like I said – it’s too late for words,” said Flint. “Whatever happens from here, we can’t risk losing the Gorgadar or our ingar-ternium reactors.”

“You could order them destroyed, sir,” said Eastwood. “We can always make more reactors.”

It was another difficult decision and Flint could feel the weight of everything piling on top of him. He didn’t buckle. A thousand experiences – a thousand doses of poison too small to kill - leading up to this time had given him the resilience he needed.

“I don’t want to destroy any of it, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “We only have one Gorgadar and once it’s gone, we might never find a way to safely supercharge an exium module. The alliance’s future might depend on us keeping that spaceship intact.”

Outside, the stern of the Endurus disappeared from sight. Flint watched grimly, and his mind worked. A mode 3 exit was the most straightforward solution, but he pictured the vivid line the transit would draw across space for the Endurus to follow. Perhaps his opponent would investigate the source point of the lightspeed tunnel and find the XM12-D, or perhaps the detection didn’t work like that at all and the enemy would simply pursue.

Flint smiled inwardly at a sudden cognizance of his own ambition. Not only did he want to escape, he wanted to be absolutely certain the creator’s spaceships didn’t wriggle off the hook at the same time. How to accomplish that was another matter entirely.

“The Gorgadar’s particle beam is recharged, sir,” said Larson. “We could take a shot at the Endurus’s negation generators.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Commander,” said Flint. “But we’d need two discharges to knock out both, and at the moment we can’t see the Endurus.”

“If it comes back, sir.”

Flint nodded, though his eyes didn’t move from the portside arrays. The Endurus slid once more into view, unhurried, yet clearly hunting.

“It’s twenty thousand klicks distant, sir,” said Larson.

“Do you have the location details for those negation generators, Commander?”

“Yes, sir.” Larson grimaced. “Kind of. Ideally, we’d need to run a full scan of the Endurus in order to pinpoint the exact location of those generators. Plus, we don’t have a clear shot out of this opening, so I’d need to put another hole through the Ancidium in order to hit the right place on the Endurus.”

“What’s your likelihood of success?”

“Significantly less than one hundred percent, sir.”

“If we take out one of the enemy negation generators, all hell is going to break loose,” said Maddox. “And the same will happen if we miss.”

“I know,” said Flint.

As usual, predicting the future was an exercise in futility. Flint couldn’t imagine landing two accurate particle beam shots on the Endurus, which meant the best outcome was knocking out just one of its negation generators. At that point, the enemy vessel would likely respond in an overwhelmingly destructive manner. The loss of the Ancidium was a real possibility and, although the creator surely would also suffer, that wouldn’t be much consolation to Flint if he was dead.

“It seems like the choices are to open fire and hope it all works out in our favour, or to SRT away and see if we can buy enough time to open another gateway,” said Flint.

Once again, Flint sensed that he was being channelled, even if not by the creator. He was faced with two stark choices, neither of which he wanted to take. The outcome of both would likely be failure and death, though by different means.

Outside the opening, the hull of the Endurus continued by at no greater velocity than before. XM12-D was not in motion and Flint guessed that propulsion would either break the cloak or simply make the construction station easier to detect.

“Am I taking the shot, sir?” asked Larson.

A plan came to Flint – a plan which was so terrible, just the thought of it was a wrench to his humanity. He’d sworn to himself and to his crew that this was a war in which every option was on the table, and he wasn’t going to break that promise.

This isn’t the end of the road.

Flint steadied himself and wondered if, when this was over, he’d ever be the same man again.

Chapter Twelve

“Commander Larson, there are approximately seven hundred million Istril in the aft section of Bay Zero. Target them with the Gorgadar’s extractors and kill them.”

“Sir?” Larson steeled herself at once. “Yes, sir.”

Flint turned his gaze to the Gorgadar’s forward feed. The warship was turning rapidly, its sensors sweeping across the incomplete hull of the Vorgeran.

“There,” said Flint. “That’s the place.”

The Istril were housed in an enormous warehouse-like structure near the aft bay wall. Flint had viewed the monitors inside that building and it was filled with technology of a type the alliance hadn’t even considered exploring.

Vats, tubes, nutrition tanks and other equipment were crammed into the five upper levels of the warehouse. The lower levels were home to the Istril, where the aliens were connected to a final piece of tech – cylindrical in shape and as mundane as anything Flint could imagine – by wires plugged into their brains. Those wires were intended to force knowledge, skills, and twitch reactions that could only be earned from a decade of combat experience into the heads of those creatures.

Not anymore.

“Fire the extractors,” said Flint.

“Extractors fired,” said Larson.

“What’s the status of the Gorgadar’s life batteries?”

“They’re at twenty-two percent, sir.”

Since returning after his last encounter with the Endurus, Flint had learned that the interface with the Ancidium’s life batteries was in Bay Zero. That interface was no more elaborate than a pair of five-thousand-metre posts which descended through the ceiling, forward and centre of the bay.

“Pilot the Gorgadar to those conduits and transfer that energy into the Ancidium, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.” Larson’s voice was unwavering. She guided the warship at high velocity across the bay, bringing it expertly to a halt at the last moment. Larson tapped a few buttons on her panel. “The link is made and the transfer has begun.”

The Ancidium’s life batteries climbed from zero to one percent immediately and the gauge rose as the life energy of the dead Istril poured through the conduit.

“What if XM12-D draws out the power again, sir?” asked Larson.

“It won’t get the chance,” said Flint. The gauge hit three percent and headed towards four. He closed his eyes at the order he was about to give.

“Commander Larson, target Rigol-2Z with the Ancidium’s disruptor and give it everything we have in those batteries.”

“Yes, sir. Disruptor targeted. Five percent available. Disruptor fired.”

Flint had – long ago – witnessed the Ancidium destroy the Evia star. Back then, he’d considered technology with such capability an abomination. His opinion hadn’t changed.

The greyness caused by XM12-D’s cloaking tech, and viewed through the particle beam opening, intensified suddenly and Flint narrowed his eyes against the brightness of the feeds. That brightness faded for a moment and then returned with a much greater intensity.

On his control panel, the life battery reserve gauge – depleted by the disruptor shot – was already back to four percent.

“Lieutenant Fredericks, turn on the hull defences,” said Flint.

Even before he received confirmation of his order, Flint selected an SRT destination from the tactical. At that moment, Rigol-2Z erupted. Given its low altitude, the XM12-D station was caught in the midst of the blast and carried outwards by the fury of an exploding star.

“SRT activated,” said Flint, squeezing his thumb against the activation switch.

The transition didn’t come. Flint swore and tried for a second time to send the Ancidium into lightspeed. Somehow, the null was still in operation and it was preventing the warship’s escape.

“Hull defences active!” said Fredericks. “Sir, the null field is still in operation – it must have been designed to operate even if XM12-D’s hull was breached.” He cursed. “Of course – this construction station would have vessels going in and out through the bay doors all the time. It makes sense that the—”

“Enough!” snapped Flint. “The reasons aren’t going to help us right now.”

Flint’s difficulties were not about to be lessened. A fountain of million-degree plasma, under immense pressure, was forced through the opening in the hull of XM12-D. Acting on instinct, Flint piloted the Ancidium as far along the bay as it would go, causing the superheated plasma to miss the particle beam hole in his own vessel’s armour and preventing it from spilling into Bay 7.

Still, the ravaging heat covered the Ancidium’s portside rear plating and the life energy reserves began to fall. While this was happening, the entire vessel shook and vibrated. A flashing red light indicated that the Ancidium’s life support couldn’t fully cope with whatever was happening to XM12-D and that made it clear that the construction station was under immense strain as it was dragged along by the expanding blast.

Flint was sure he had only seconds in which figure a way out of this. The Ancidium was still trapped and that left him with few options.

“We’ll be able to escape if XM12-D breaks up, sir,” said Larson. “The null will fail and then we can mode 3 away from here.”

“The construction station took everything from our life batteries, Commander. If it uses that for hull immunity, its destruction is not guaranteed.”

His eyes jumped to the portside feed, where the star’s plasma continued to pour into the bay under such pressure that it would soon fill the space. A possible solution sprang into Flint’s head, though he had no idea whatsoever if it was going to work.

“We’re going to fire the Gorgadar’s particle beam again, Commander Larson,” said Flint. “I want you to aim it straight at the nose of XM12-D. Hold for my order.”

Larson didn’t point out that a beam discharge in that direction would tear a hole four hundred kilometres in length all the way from where the Gorgadar was positioned in Bay Zero, through countless tons of overstressed ternium and whatever else was installed in the weapon’s path on its way to the creator’s vessel. The damage to the Ancidium would be enormous and it was possible that one or more of the spaceship’s critical systems would be put out of action.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“While the beam is active, I want you to fire the disruptor into the construction station,” said Flint.

Larson nodded her understanding. “The particle beam might negate the null in that localised area.”

“And if we fire the disruptor through the null, it should be enough to shut down XM12-D and the null with it.”

“The Gorgadar’s particle beam is aimed and I’m ready on your command, sir,” said Larson. “We’re back up to six percent on the batteries.”

“The life energy of seven hundred million Istril spent faster than a pay day dollar in a wild west saloon,” said Fredericks.

Flint didn’t want to think about it. “Commander Larson, fire.”

“Yes, sir. Particle beam: fired.”

Greasy blue lanced from the Gorgadar’s nose, plunging through the Ancidium despite the vessel’s hull protections being activated.

“Disruptor targeted. Six percent available. Fired.”

Such was the intensity of light within XM12-D’s bay that Flint couldn’t see if the null was cancelled. However, the side of the construction platform bowed inwards like it had been struck by an immense fist. The alloys – thousands of metres thick – began to tear and huge sections of debris thudded into the Ancidium.

Flint didn’t stick around to watch the show. He pressed the SRT button again, willing the universe to give him a damned break for once. The thud of a transition came and he held his thumb tightly in place until he felt the shudder of re-entry to local space.

Without waiting for the sensors to come online, Flint activated a second SRT and kept on activating them until he’d put six of the Ancidium’s ten modules on cooldown.

“Let’s keep those last four in the bag,” he said.

I can’t feel the death aura.

Flint didn’t say the words aloud and hardly dared acknowledge them even within his own mind.

“Ready the gateway!” he shouted.

The feeds only took a couple of seconds to come online – long enough for Flint to take note of the damage warning lights on his status panel, and to see the savage heat of the particle beam hole he’d ordered to be put through his own warship.

“Gateway destination chosen,” said Eastwood. “Two minutes and we’ll be out of here.”

“Aiming a pinpoint scan at Rigol-2Z,” said Burner.

“Running a local area sweep,” said Garrett.

“What did we just do?” asked Maddox in disbelief.

“We did what we had to, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “We destroyed a star.”

“A whole star,” said Maddox. “Damn.”

“On the bright side, the universe has plenty spare,” said Fredericks.

“While we only have one Ancidium,” said Flint. “And like hell are we going to lose it.”

“I can’t feel the death aura,” said Becerra, the first to speak what they were all thinking. Do you think the Endurus was—” She stopped, as if she didn’t dare use the word destroyed.

“I don’t feel hopeful, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I wish I did.”

“I’ve located the star, sir,” said Burner.

“Show me.”

The Ancidium was much too distant to gather a meaningfully detailed feed, and Flint stared at an enormously overmagnified bright speck in the centre of the screen. No matter how hard he tried to sense the fate of his enemies, he got no feeling whatsoever. Flint wondered if that emptiness was a reflection of everything he’d done over the course of this most recent encounter.

Would my parents be proud?

A lump came to Flint’s throat at this unbidden thought. His father was buried long ago and it seemed like the memories only came when Flint was at his lowest. When everything was over, he’d pay his respects again, and hope that the spirits of the dead could come to terms with the atrocities he’d committed. Maybe Flint would eventually find a peace of his own.

“Sir?” It was Larson and her expression was full of concern. “This isn’t over. We need to be ready.”

“I’m ready, Commander,” said Flint, more sharply than he intended. “I’m ready,” he repeated, softly this time.

“After all that, we’re left with four percent on our life batteries,” said Larson. “It won’t be enough to see us through another tough encounter.”

“There’s nothing left to extract, Commander,” said Flint. “Four percent is what we have.”

“Sixty seconds on the gateway!” yelled Eastwood.

Flint’s eyes went back to Rigol-2Z. The star was slowly expanding on the feed, its destruction made insignificant by distance. It was sure that XM12-D had been destroyed, but Flint was less certain about the other two of the creator’s warships.

“Was the creator no more than an AI on that construction station?” wondered Larson. “Did we defeat it?”

“It’s possible.” Flint shrugged, unconvinced.

“You’ve talked the creator up in your mind,” said Larson. “You’ve elevated it to a position where it sees everything and knows everything, and is completely beyond our capability to overcome.”

“Maybe.”

“What if it really was nothing more than a computer program running on that construction station?” Larson persisted. “What if we caught it completely unawares and now it’s gone, incinerated in the heat of a dying star?”

“I want to believe, Commander. More than anything, I want to believe.”

Larson nodded once. “So do I.”

“Thirty seconds on the gateway!”

Flint stared at nothing. He didn’t know what to think and he hated the fact that in spite of the recent encounter, he remained in the dark about so many things.

“Oh shit,” said Burner. “The death aura is back.”

Pain seeped into Flint’s joints and his bones, like an old friend. Of course the Endurus wasn’t defeated. He’d been a fool to even consider it a possibility.

“Does it know we’re here?” asked Garrett.

“Nobody can give you an answer on that, Lieutenant,” said Fredericks. “If I was being optimistic, I’d tell you that the amount of crap released by the detonation of Rigol-2Z hid all sign of our lightspeed tunnel.”

“It knows we survived and it’s coming for us,” said Flint. He bit down on a curse and held himself rigid so that his fear and anger wouldn’t show on his face.

The gateway activated without the Endurus appearing on the feeds. In a time too short to measure, the Ancidium was transported elsewhere in the universe, battered and bruised, yet not defeated.

For a few moments after the transit, Flint closed his eyes and commanded himself to be strong. The Endurus would give chase, of that he was certain, but while the blood flowed in his veins, the battle wasn’t lost.

No matter the odds, Flint was going to keep on fighting.

Chapter Thirteen

“I’ve finished with the damage audit, sir,” said Fredericks. “The Gorgadar’s particle beam disabled a few billion tons of ternium, went through one of the tenixite storage areas and severed a number of inter-system conduits.”

“How serious is it?” asked Flint. He could feel the death aura again, distant like it always was after a gateway.

“Nothing to worry about, sir,” said Fredericks. “The Ancidium’s onboard systems have plenty of redundancy, so I can’t even pretend we dodged a bullet.”

“What about the tenixite losses?”

“Again, nothing to be concerned about. That bay was almost empty anyway – I estimate we’ve lost enough tenixite to power twenty to twenty-five gateway transits.”

“So we’re more or less intact, but I can’t help but feel we’re back to square one when it comes to defeating our opponents,” said Flint.

While talking, he stared at the feeds. The Ancidium was a few million kilometres from an immense cluster of rocky debris – trillions of pieces in all shapes and sizes - which was travelling at a comparatively high velocity on its endless voyage to nowhere. Lieutenant Burner reckoned the debris might have once been a planet. It seemed to Flint that wherever he went, however far he travelled, destruction was the one constant.

“Sir, we’ve received an inbound comms request!” said Becerra. “It’s text like before.”

Flint jerked straight like he’d been plugged into the mains. “Send it to my screen.”

“Yes, sir.”

ENTROPY> I want what is mine.

Flint> What happened to NULL? I take it you’re one and the same.

ENTROPY> I will have the vessel.

Flint> It’s a shame to find you weren’t on one of those spaceships you lost at Rigol-2Z.

He watched expectantly for a response, wondering if the entity would acknowledge the losses or deny them.

ENTROPY> The universe is filled with my children. They are everywhere, in numbers beyond counting.

Flint> You know fear. The exium is beyond your capabilities. You will not have it.

ENTROPY> That is where you are wrong human. I will take the vessel and I will make your species extinct. Perhaps then I will summon my children and lay waste to everything in this universe.

Flint> I thought you worked timidly from the shadows.

ENTROPY> You seek to anger me.

Flint> It doesn’t sound as if talking is going to achieve much. I might as well let off some steam. Maybe I’ll destroy the Gorgadar just for the sake of it.

ENTROPY> As you will.

Flint> I am not fooled by your attempt at indifference. You quake in fear. The Endurus is beyond you, and you believe the exium will give you a chance to continue your miserable existence.

ENTROPY> You thought to bargain with me, that together we might defeat the Endurus. Here I will tell you, human. The Endurus is one of my children – among my greatest. Pitting it against the Ancidium is one of my most pleasing achievements. I have watched your struggles with the greatest of interest.

Reading the words, Flint ground his teeth and heard them scrape together in his skull. A chill gripped his body and he felt as if a rug had been pulled out from beneath his feet.

“That’s got to be bullshit, sir,” said Larson. “It has to be.”

“All of a sudden, I don’t know what to believe, Commander.”

“This Entropy absolutely cannot be trusted, sir. Everything it says is a lie.”

Flint shook his head. “The best lies are always mixed with the truth. If everything is a lie, who would ever be fooled?”

ENTROPY> Death is coming, human.

“The comms link is ended, sir,” said Burner.

That news came as something of a relief to Flint, since he didn’t have anything left to say. The Entropy’s claims had left him stunned and his mind in turmoil. Flint sat back heavily and the scent of ancient leather from the cracked seat covering was thick in his nostrils.

“This has gone from crazy to something beyond my worst imaginings,” he said.

“Do you think any of that was true, sir?” asked Maddox.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. The details of the recent exchange hadn’t yet sunk in. “We’re being played like puppets. I thought I could join the game, but I was wrong.”

“The Endurus showed up at Rigol-2Z, but it didn’t attack the creator’s warships,” said Maddox. “We were told the cloaking tech was keeping us hidden, but that could be lies too.”

“Once the doubts seep in, it’s hard to know what’s right and true anymore,” said Fredericks.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to believe the Entropy’s claims that it built the Endurus,” said Flint. “One thing that’s sure – the Entropy wants both the secrets of exium, and the supercharged exium modules we’re carrying on the Gorgadar.”

“How would killing us achieve either, sir?” asked Garrett.

“Or maybe I’m off the mark, Lieutenant,” Flint mused. “Maybe the exium is a bonus and nothing more. If the species of the alliance were made extinct, the secrets of exium would be lost, but the status quo would return,” said Flint. “Perhaps that’s the ultimate goal.”

“To return everything to how it was before we muscled in on the scene and started winning battles we were meant to lose,” said Larson.

“Whether the Entropy gains knowledge of exium or not, the alliance is doomed,” said Flint. “We created a substance that is beyond this entity. Its control over its domain has slipped. There’s no way we’ll be permitted to exist, in case one day we have the ability to challenge the Entropy.”

“I think the word entropy is telling,” said Larson. “Like the entity decided that pretence is no longer necessary.”

“It’s a word I don’t much like the taste of,” said Flint. “A descent into disorder.”

“And, eventually, extinction for all things,” said Larson.

“We’ve learned something about our enemy, sir,” said Fredericks. “We know what it is, if not how to defeat it.”

Flint closed his eyes for a moment. Ever since the Kilvar first attacked the alliance, he’d hoped that each hard-fought victory would bring peace a little closer. Now, all he could imagine was war – war never-ending against an entity which seemed to exist only to bring chaos. Suddenly, defeating the Endurus was no longer an end in itself, just another step on a journey that would go on forever.

“So where does this leave us, sir?” asked Garrett. “Apart from in the shit.”

“We’re being manipulated, that much is sure,” said Flint. “However, I’m asking myself if anything has changed when it comes to the Endurus.”

“I don’t think we can ignore it, sir,” said Larson. “And the death aura is what makes me think the Entropy might be telling at least part of the truth about the Endurus being its own creation. Our people are dying and we can’t allow that to go on. We’ve seen some of what the Endurus is capable of – if it locates an alliance world, we can all guess the consequences.”

“If we defeat the Endurus, that leaves us with just the Entropy,” said Burner. “And its countless children.”

“We know how to find the Endurus,” said Garrett. “The Entropy is a whole different ballgame.”

Flint hated this situation. Either nothing was as it seemed, or he’d been conditioned into thinking that was the case. Perhaps a straight down the middle approach was going to be for the best. After all, both the Endurus and the Entropy were threatening the alliance with extinction, so in theory he needed to figure out a way to eventually defeat both.

“The Endurus comes first,” he said. “It has pursued us and shown only hostile intent. I’m not going to offer the hand of friendship to an opponent which is punching me in the throat.”

“Eloquently put, sir,” said Eastwood. “And we did try communication once before.”

“It seems like we’ve engaged with the Endurus on plenty of occasions and haven’t left it with much more than a couple of scratches, sir,” said Maddox. “If we’re to come out on top, we’re going to have to knock out a whole lot more than a couple of stasis generators.”

“Death by hundred thousand cuts,” said Burner. “Each time it appears, we stick a needle through its hull and then escape into lightspeed.”

“Knowing that just one slipup will be enough for us all to die,” said Garrett.

“Enough,” said Flint. His crew were only speaking the truth and that knowing was chewing him up inside.

There must be a better way.

Flint was suddenly aware of the passing time since the last gateway and he became concerned that the Endurus would soon appear. “Is that predictive model ready to start spitting out numbers yet, Lieutenant Fredericks?” he asked.

“The output won’t exactly be garbage, sir, but it won’t be anywhere close to reliable.”

“Run the model and tell me what it says.”

“I don’t need to run it, sir, I’ve got it up on my screen. The model predicts we have another twelve minutes before the Endurus arrives, plus or minus five minutes with a sixty percent certainty. Do you want me to give you the plus or minus eight- and ten-minute certainties?”

“No,” said Flint. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Someplace random?” asked Fredericks.

“Like always.”

“Readying the gateway,” Fredericks confirmed. “Two minutes and we go.”

Flint didn’t spend the warmup time idly, though outwardly he appeared still. Inside, his mind was hunting with increasing desperation for a way to shake things up – to come up with something completely new and unpredictable. It was a tough ask and his well of ideas was dry. Flint’s frustration grew.

“Twenty seconds and we go,” said Fredericks.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the intensity of the death aura increased markedly. Cursing, Flint resisted passing judgement on the accuracy of the predictive model and he watched the gateway timer and the feeds, his jaw clenched.

“Nothing on the sensors,” said Burner.

“Ten seconds.”

The Endurus remained undetected and the gateway opened, transporting the Ancidium faraway to its destination. The sensors came up and area scans were completed quickly, confirming that no immediate threats were present, even though the lessening of the death aura was proof enough of that.

As he sat at the command station staring at the dark emptiness on the feeds, Flint thought he was little more than a twig, dropped into a raging torrent, being dragged wherever the currents would take him.

More than anything, he wanted it to be different. Both humanity and the Daklan deserved better than to be mere disposable pieces on a cosmic chess board.

Anger, born out of helplessness, came as it so often did. And that anger helped spawn an idea. Such was the potential of it that Flint sat bolt upright, trembling with a physical reaction to his own thoughts.

“What is it, sir?” asked Larson.

Flint didn’t want to confide just yet. He accessed the Ancidium’s databanks and spent a few minutes scanning the contents of several files. Meanwhile, Larson was biting her tongue as she waited for Flint to finish.

After a time, Flint sat back, in a state of near shock at what his mind had served up. It was possible his grand plan – a plan of colossal, jaw-dropping ambition - would come to naught.

“Tell me,” said Larson.

Flint smiled. “I’ll let you know soon enough.”

Chapter Fourteen

Ignoring Larson’s clear eagerness, Flint gave orders to his crew.

“We extracted data from the Endurus when we were trapped in its bay,” he said. “Admiral Recker had a team assigned to combing through it.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “I keep dipping in and out of the files, but you can appreciate things have been hectic.”

“The head of that investigation team is Research Lead Deomandar,” said Becerra. “Would you like me to contact her?”

“Good idea,” said Flint.

“Oh,” said Becerra. “RL Deomandar is reported dead, along with most of the other officers in her team.”

“Shit,” said Flint sourly.

“Should I look for another member to contact?”

“No, thank you,” said Flint. “I’ll discuss my thoughts with Lieutenants Fredericks and Eastwood.”

“The investigation team made good progress on learning about the Endurus,” said Fredericks. “But there are plenty of gaps.”

“Are we going to make another attempt to knock out the enemy’s negation generators, sir?” asked Maddox.

“Those are only the backup targets,” said Flint. “It’s the control hardware I’m interested in – from what I understand, we have identified where that’s located within the Endurus.”

“Yes, sir – or some of it anyway,” said Fredericks. “The controllers are all central, but so far we’ve counted a total of fifteen different modules, each at least five klicks distant from the next nearest. If you were hoping to disable that warship with a single particle beam shot, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”

“I’m not disappointed,” said Flint. “Though I’d prefer it if there were fewer than fifteen.”

“You need to tell us, sir,” said Fredericks. “It might help if we knew what you were planning.”

“We’ve been bit part actors in this from the beginning,” Flint said. “That has to change.”

“And what are you proposing, sir?” asked Fredericks.

“You were on the right track earlier when you mentioned particle beams, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“Then the plan is to destroy the controllers,” said Fredericks.

Flint nodded. “I’ll get to how in a moment. There’s an alliance warship in Bay 5 that can create and maintain a stasis field.”

“The Sibaron,” said Eastwood at once. “The sister ship of the Hades. Last I heard there was a construction holdup caused by technical issues.”

“Yes,” said Flint. “It was meant to accompany us on the hunt for Galtivon, but the build wasn’t signed off because two of its exium modules failed a stress test.”

“But they fixed that, right?” said Maddox.

Flint had one eye on the Sibaron’s construction timeline document. “Not according to this they didn’t,” he said. “We ran out of ingar and that put a hold on the creation of replacement exium modules. The situation remains unresolved. It shouldn’t matter, just as long as the Sibaron can maintain a five-thousand-klick stasis field for ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Stasis from a standard exium module isn’t strong enough to hold the Endurus, sir,” said Larson.

“That’s why we also need the Gorgadar,” said Flint. “It can create stasis powerful enough to slow the Endurus - and that should be enough.”

“Stop dancing around and tell us what the plan is, sir,” said Becerra.

Flint smiled. “We could knock out the Endurus’s negation generators and we’d still be killed by that warship, even with the Gorgadar slowing it down. I’ve thought of a way to take out those controllers.”

“How?” asked Eastwood. “The Gorgadar’s particle beam has a twenty-second recharge and the Ancidium’s life batteries are so drained that its own nose beam won’t even fire. We might be lucky – real lucky - and knock out two or three of the controllers, but not all fifteen.”

Flint explained how he intended to accomplish the task. The concept was simple, but the execution would be tough. When he finished speaking, the bridge went silent for a time.

“It might work,” said Fredericks eventually. He gave a gravel laugh. “It’s crazy, but damn—”

“It will work,” said Flint. “We’re going to make it work.”

“I’m probably not the only one who’s been left with the impression you’re intending to take on this mission yourself, sir,” said Burner.

“That’s exactly what I’m intending, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“We can’t leave the Ancidium, sir,” said Fredericks. “Whatever the success or otherwise of your plan, this warship must be left in safe hands. Come what may, we’re going to need it.”

“I’m going to lead the mission,” said Flint firmly. He pursed his lips for a moment. “Unfortunately, I can’t take everyone with me.”

What remained of the backup crew had arrived during the course of the encounter at Rigol-2Z, and the bridge was now almost at its full complement of personnel. Flint ran his eye over the backup officers, all of whom he recognized. They lacked combat experience with the Lavorix hardware, but he was sure they’d learn fast.

Flint continued. “However, the reality is that I intend for the Ancidium to do no more than gateway to another location until we’re finished with the Endurus. If we fail, the Ancidium’s crew may be required to chain additional gateways in order to stay ahead of the Endurus, until such time as the situation allows otherwise. It’ll be an important task, but not a difficult one.”

“I wasn’t expecting this, sir,” said Larson quietly. “Nobody knows this hardware like we do. The Endurus has comfortably exceeded our worst expectations and we owe it to the alliance people to leave the best officers in charge of the Ancidium.”

“I’ll be handing control over to you, Commander, and leaving a couple of our usual crew to help out,” said Flint, equally quietly.

“That would be splitting up the dream team.”

“It’s not what I’d choose if I could think of another way,” said Flint.

Larson was up for the challenge and she was Flint’s equal as an officer. Still, her expression spoke of inner conflict.

“My mind keeps returning to the expectancy delta,” she said. “If our sticking together twists all those cosmic forces in our favour, I don’t want to screw around with a good thing.”

“I often wish I’d never heard of the expectancy delta,” said Flint. “Because now, with every action I take, there’s a part of me wondering if that action is having a negative effect on a number spat out by an obliterator core – a number derived from data gathered by people I’ve never met and about whom I know nothing.”

“Or maybe the expectancy delta is why we’re making this decision.” Larson grinned to show that she wasn’t being serious. The smile faded. “I’ll do what you ask,” she said. “I’m not convinced it’s the right thing, but I’ll stay on the Ancidium and you can go put holes in the Endurus.”

Flint nodded and was about to set things in motion, when the bridge door opened once more. A voice spoke.

“Captain Flint, update me on what’s happened while I’ve been away.”

“Admiral Recker,” said Flint, twisting sharply in his seat.

Recker was accompanied by a medical bot and Kida-Or was at his side. Peering closely, Flint saw no sign of weakness in the other man – Recker was standing without assistance and his face betrayed endless depths of anger.

“Don’t sit there with your mouth open,” said Recker, advancing onto the bridge and positioning himself at Flint’s shoulder. There was no infirmity in his stride.

Flint described recent events and, when he was done, advised Recker of his plans.

“I will command the Ancidium” said Recker immediately. “Captain Flint, you’re relieved. Take your crew and head for the Gorgadar. I won’t risk a crew on the Sibaron, given what I know about its exium modules. I assume you can operate the annihilator remotely?”

“Yes, sir, we can manage that,” said Flint, unclipping his harness and standing. He was accustomed to Recker’s ability to make snap decisions and this came as no surprise. “Would you like me to leave anyone behind to provide assistance?”

“Negative,” said Recker, clearly eager to take the command seat. He made a sweeping gesture with one hand across the width of the bridge. “You don’t know these personnel like I do, Captain Flint. I can rely on them.”

Flint experienced a surge of the utmost relief. If this mission was to succeed, the chances would be far greater with every member of his usual crew present.

“Is there anything you need from me before I leave, sir?” he asked.

“No,” said Recker, dropping into the recently vacated seat and resting his hands on the controls. A look of yearning passed across his face, like a rustling breeze through the long grass of autumn. “I’ll have the Gorgadar flown into Bay 7. It’ll be quicker that way.”

“Yes, sir.”

Flint faced the bridge. His officers were already out of their seats and waiting for him to lead the way.

“Let’s move,” Flint said.

He headed through the bridge door, calling up a map on his HUD at the same time. “The quickest route to Bay 7 should take us less than ten minutes,” he said. “After that, we’ve got a shuttle ride to the Gorgadar and another few minutes on foot to the warship’s bridge.”

Flint was filled with adrenaline and the Frenziol shot from earlier hadn’t nearly worn off. He sprinted through the Ancidium’s command and control area and into the corridor beyond. Seconds later, he entered a mess area, which was being used as a makeshift medical facility. A row of dead bodies – human and Daklan - against the far wall drove home how much of a razor’s edge the entire alliance was walking.

Having entered one of the Ancidium’s many internal shuttles, Flint studied the faces of his crew. They were mostly impassive and yet he could sense the underlying excitement among them. These were officers who were acutely aware of the dangers, yet were still drawn to the thrill of the fight – no matter what it might cost them.

“It feels as if we’re getting things moving again,” said Fredericks, loudly over the humming of the shuttle.

“What the hell do you call all that shit we just went through?” asked Burner in disbelief. “We just blew up a damned star!”

Fredericks pulled a face. “I don’t know what I’d call it. All I’m saying is that now we’re on a different path, I can see that the old path wasn’t the right one.”

Listening to the man’s words made Flint understand just how intuitively he and his officers sensed the workings of the universe. Through some quirk or aberration, they’d found themselves together. Perhaps, Flint thought, in order that the people of the alliance might survive, despite the machinations of the Entropy.

A familiar surge of anger welled up from within and Flint clenched his jaw. Everything – the war, the extinctions, the damned inhumanity of it all – was so unnecessary and so barbaric that he found himself despising the Ancidium’s creator with every fibre of his being.

“What’s the matter, sir?” asked Maddox.

“Just getting myself worked up when I should know better, Lieutenant.” Flint forced a smile.

“I reckon we’ve all got the same feelings, sir,” said Maddox. “They just hit us at different times.” She grinned. “But damn, I’m looking forward to knocking out a spaceship that nobody else in the entire universe has even managed to scratch in thousands of years.”

“I admire your optimism,” said Burner.

The conversation was halted by the arrival of the shuttle car at its destination. Flint exited first, stepping over a dead Lavorix which had fallen across the passage outside. He almost didn’t see them anymore, as if the aliens had become no more than minor obstacles on his journey from one place to another. Flint was done caring for the Lavorix and he didn’t spare a moment to think about this one on the floor.

A short sprint took Flint and his crew to one of the mid-level Bay 7 entrances. The cavernous space of the bay was oppressive and the weight of the darkness made Flint feel like he was under a hundred metres of water.

Having summoned a transport shuttle while on the way, he found it landed on the solid alloy platform nearby. The vessel was nothing out of the ordinary – a fifty metre cuboid with rounded edges, resting on eight landing legs.

“Did we get here first?” Flint wondered.

No sooner had he spoken than the shuttle’s flank door opened and a figure appeared in the dim red light within.

“We thought you’d never get here, sir,” said Private Eric Drawl.

“You know me, Private. Always last to the party,” said Flint dryly. “Are we waiting for anyone?”

“No, sir. The Captain is ready in the cockpit.”

Flint hurried through the shuttle’s airlock and into a passenger bay filled with many faces he recognized and none that he did not. He felt the same anticipation from the soldiers as he’d noticed in his crew on the way here.

Shortly after, Flint was in pilot’s seat, with Captain Vance on one side and Lieutenant Krast Tagra on the other.

“Was that a pair of oblex cores I saw in the passenger bay below?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Vance. “We borrowed them from one of RL Moseley’s secure storage areas.”

“Did you ask first?”

“I can’t remember, sir.”

Flint kept his face straight. “I’m sure he won’t miss them.”

Without further delay, he lifted the shuttle vertically off the landing platform. The transport’s sensors offered him a view of average quality across Bay 7, and Flint saw numerous alliance warships parked about a hundred kilometres away. The Sibaron was among them, having been piloted here from Bay 5 by one of the Ancidium’s crew. It was distinguishable by its size – eight thousand metres, compared to five thousand for the other annihilators - and by the four enormous Terrus-VI housings on its topsides.

The Gorgadar dwarfed everything else in the bay. Its design – a mixture of curves and lines – was both cutting edge and yet peculiarly antiquated. Flint had commanded many different warships and yet this was the only one which gave him a sense of fear. After all this time, he still couldn’t put a finger on what exactly it was about the spaceship that made him feel this way.

A warning appeared on Flint’s suit HUD.

Prepare for gateway: 120s.

Nobody commented on what had become a frequent occurrence. Flint piloted the shuttle along the bay and between the huge gaps separating the alliance vessels. The Ancidium passed through its gateway and Flint shrugged off the faint lethargy the transit produced.

Less than a minute later, Flint guided the shuttle into one of the Gorgadar’s vacant bays. He exited the cockpit at speed and dashed through the airlock, closely followed by his crew. As he ran through the tight passages of the interior, he breathed in the stale Lavorix stench.

“Feels like home, huh?” said Garrett.

“Sure does,” said Flint.

The Gorgadar was massive and, despite the logical arrangement of internal shuttles, it took Flint another ten minutes to reach the bridge.

Upon Captain Vance’s insistence, an oblex core had accompanied the crew, and that device hovered obtrusively in one corner. Apparently, Lieutenant Hunter Gantry had created an ingenious routine that would trigger the creation of a powerful negation sphere the moment the oblex core’s internal clock detected the presence of stasis. Flint wasn’t sure if the negation routine would work, but he felt better knowing it was in place.

He took his seat, rested his hands on the controls and, for the briefest of moments, allowed himself to enjoy the strangest feeling of harmony he felt with this, perhaps the most overall powerful weapon of war the Lavorix had ever constructed.

“Admiral Recker is on the comms, sir,” said Burner. “We’re going through one last gateway, to give us as much preparation time as possible.”

“Acknowledged.”

A new gateway timer appeared on Flint’s HUD. The mission would soon start and, succeed or fail, the only outcome would be uncertainty. Having committed to this, Flint was not about to waver.

Chapter Fifteen

No sooner had the Ancidium passed through the gateway than Admiral Recker gave the order to start the mission.

“The Bay 7 doors are opening and we have clearance to depart, sir,” said Becerra.

“Lieutenant Maddox, do you have control of the Sibaron?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir. The remote link is active. I’m reading four red lights on the exium modules.”

Flint was already piloting the Gorgadar towards the bay door which was eighty kilometres ahead. “Pretend you didn’t see them,” he said.

With its engines rumbling, the Gorgadar entered the tunnel leading from the bay. The second door was open and Flint guided the warship onwards until its nose was no more than a hundred metres from the final door. The hole created by the Gorgadar’s particle beam earlier was vivid orange, and through it Flint could see only darkness. On the rear sensors, the Sibaron was visible as it entered the linking tunnel.

“Moving alongside the Gorgadar,” said Maddox, bringing the annihilator to a halt.

The third and final hull door opened without any indication of distress, and Flint gazed into space. A jolt of a memory brought back how much he’d always been in wonder of the empty loneliness he saw before him and the coldness of the bridge air increased the intensity of this sudden emotion.

“Admiral Recker advises he will hold the Ancidium here for approximately eight minutes and then he’ll open a gateway,” said Becerra. “That should give the Endurus all the opportunity it needs to follow the trail here, but not enough time to engage with our primary asset.”

“Acknowledged,” said Flint.

He pushed the control bars along their guide slots and the Gorgadar accelerated. Maddox waited a few seconds and then piloted the Sibaron after. The annihilator kept pace without apparent effort.

“Maintaining a ten thousand klick distance,” said Maddox.

“Lieutenant Burner - give me a rundown of this solar system,” said Flint.

“The place Admiral Recker has chosen is Jiol-4, sir,” said Burner. “Seventeen planets, a few hundred moons and one star.”

“Did the Admiral recommend a place based on our discussion before we left the Ancidium?”

“Yes, sir. Planet Loda is a gas giant – it has an 160,000-klick diameter, which will give us some room to manoeuvre if we need it.”

“Put it on the feed.”

“Here it is, sir. We’re currently three million klicks from the planet.”

Loda was a mixture of browns, reds and yellows. At surface level, Flint had no doubt the place would be turbulent, but from here it looked serene. Time was tight and he couldn’t allow himself to stare.

“We’re going in. Mode 3,” he said, tapping his finger onto the tactical screen.

“Mode 3 selected, sir,” Maddox confirmed.

The Gorgadar’s sensors went offline for a couple of seconds and when the feeds resumed, Flint was confronted by a much closer view of nature’s violence that he’d imagined only moments before. Loda’s surface was not solid, but the outer layer of gasses was only ten thousand kilometres away and from here the swirling conflict was on stark display.

“Lieutenant Fredericks, I’m about to give the order to switch the Sibaron into superstress,” said Flint, adjusting the Gorgadar’s position so that its nose was aimed directly at the planet’s centre. “Before I do so, I would like our own vessel to be generating a powerful negation field with a hundred-kilometre radius.”

“Just in case,” said Fredericks.

“Yes,” agreed Flint. “Just in case.”

“We are now generating negation, sir,” said Fredericks a few moments later.

The Gorgadar had seemingly endless depths of power and the needles on Flint’s console scarcely flickered.

“I assume you’ll be monitoring for anomalies on the Sibaron, Lieutenant Fredericks?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I’d like to say I’m hopeful that the onboard control systems will prevent those anomalies occurring – especially since we’re only going to create a comparatively small stasis field – but I have this feeling—"

“Just do what you can, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

“That’s always been good enough.”

Flint put the failed exium modules from his mind and told himself that whatever would be, would be. The Firestorm heavy cruiser was a long time in his past, but it wasn’t forgotten. Maybe, Flint thought, that experience had tempered him and made it easier to cope with the uncertainty. Or perhaps he’d learned to stop giving a shit about the stuff it wasn’t in his power to control.

If only.

“Lieutenant Maddox – place the Sibaron’s engine modules into superstress,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Command sent.”

For several long seconds, the crew watched the rear sensor feed which was focused on the annihilator. The warship did not detonate.

“Everything appears stable,” said Fredericks.

“So far,” said Maddox. “The annihilator’s superstress-dependent weapons are online and available, sir. In case we ever need them.”

The Sibaron had passed its early test and Flint was enormously relieved. “You know what to do, Lieutenant Maddox.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Sibaron accelerated and in a few seconds it sped past the Gorgadar’s starboard flank. At the last second, Maddox slowed the vessel and it plunged into the planet’s atmosphere. For a short time, its outline remained clear, but then became rapidly fainter.

“The pressure is increasing,” said Maddox. “Taking it steady ahead.”

“Much deeper and we’ll lose the remote link, sir,” said Burner. “Once that happens—”

“It won’t happen,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Maddox – that’s far enough. Bring the Sibaron to a halt.”

“Yes, sir. The annihilator is stationary at four thousand kilometres below the planet’s surface.”

“A cursory scan shouldn’t be enough to detect the annihilator, sir,” said Garrett.

“That’s what we want,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Fredericks – send the command. Have the Sibaron create a five-thousand-klick stasis field.”

“Yes, sir. Once this is done, we’ll be unable to communicate with the annihilator. Command sent.”

Flint held his breath and watched. An area of the planet’s surface became frozen in stasis, while the gasses around it eddied and churned with a greater vigour before. Deeper within the planet, Flint was sure a tempest would be raging around the zero-time sphere.

“Commander Larson, this is going to require pinpoint accuracy,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Larson. “The place we’re at now will make as good a starting place as any.”

“In that case, fire the particle beam.”

“Particle beam: fired.”

A line of blue stabbed out from the Gorgadar’s nose housing, and connected with the top of the stasis sphere where it emerged from Loda’s atmosphere. The beam held for two or three seconds and then cut out. On top of the stasis sphere, Flint saw a disk of blue which had penetrated hardly any distance into the zero-time.

“Looks like it worked, sir,” said Eastwood. “The particle beam is compressed – for want of a better word – in the stasis.”

On one of his screens, Flint had a 3D model of the Endurus which showed the known and guessed internal arrangement of its control hardware.

“If we take that first beam shot as being aimed at controller STCN-5, we can go from there,” said Flint. “I’ll reposition.” He raised his voice. “Lieutenant Fredericks – alter the frequency of the particle beam. I want each one different – hopefully that will counter the enemy’s hull immunity.”

“Yes, sir. I can make those changes between each shot without you having to slow down. I’ll shout out if there’s a problem.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

With steady hands, Flint piloted the Gorgadar a few thousand metres from its previous position, while keeping one eye on the cooldown timer for the particle beam.

“Fire again,” Flint ordered.

“Yes, sir – particle beam fired,” said Larson.

A second beam shot lanced into the stasis field, where it was once more compressed into a disc.

“That one is targeted at controller STCN-Z1,” said Flint.

“Four minutes and the Ancidium will be out of here, sir,” said Burner.

The clock was ticking and Flint repositioned the Gorgadar once more. Such was the degree of accuracy required, that the particle beam’s cooldown was finished by the time he had the warship in place.

“Fire the beam,” said Flint.

“Particle beam: fired.”

“That should take out controller STCN-91G,” said Flint.

Painstakingly, he repositioned the Gorgadar time and again. When Flint was satisfied, Larson fired the particle beam into the stasis sphere. It was stressful work. By the time the stasis sphere was loaded up with eight particle beams, Flint’s scalp was prickling with sweat.

“Twenty seconds and the Ancidium opens its gateway,” said Burner.

Larson fired the tenth particle beam just as the Ancidium vanished inside a sphere of darkness, its destination randomly selected from the quadrillions of entries on the warship’s star charts.

“Hold it together, sir,” said Larson, sensing how much pressure Flint was under.

Flint only nodded.

Twenty-five seconds later, Larson fired the eleventh particle beam and the twelfth followed thirty seconds after that.

“Nearly there,” said Maddox.

“After that comes the hard part,” said Flint.

The enormity of what he was attempting amplified the difficulty of the operation. Flint usually wouldn’t have been affected, but this was different.

Somewhere in the emptiness, and much earlier than Flint had expected, the Endurus arrived. It didn’t immediately appear on the sensors, but the increased potency of its death aura was a giveaway sign.

“Damnit, we aren’t ready,” said Flint. “Find it!” he snapped, readying the Gorgadar for the thirteenth particle beam shot.

“Scanning,” said Burner. “No sign of our enemy.”

“Fire the particle beam,” said Flint.

“Particle beam: fired,” said Larson.

Flint needed his full concentration to reposition the Gorgadar, but his eyes kept jumping to the feeds. The Endurus was out there somewhere, scanning. If it realised the Gorgadar was firing its particle beam into a stasis sphere, the element of surprise would be lost.

“We’re in position,” said Flint.

“That’s the fourteenth beam fired,” said Larson. “One more and we’re done.”

Flint forced his attention to the 3D model on his screen and sought out the location of the final controller.

“There,” he said under his breath.

In moments, the Gorgadar was in position, only this time the particle beam had another eight seconds left on its recharge countdown.

“Come on, come on,” said Larson.

With the particle beam recharge timer on four seconds, the Endurus appeared on the portside feeds like an endless cliff of solid alloy. From the Gorgadar’s position, Flint could see the thousand-kilometre cut made by his spaceship’s particle beam during one of their previous encounters. Inside the opening was darkness. Elsewhere, the Endurus’s hull was unadorned, with no visible weapons.

“Looks like it emerged from Rigol-2Z without a scratch,” said Burner.

“Not much of a surprise,” said Maddox.

“I’ve detected an energy build up on the enemy warship’s hull, sir,” said Eastwood.

“Our particle beam is ready to fire,” said Larson.

“Hold,” said Flint. He cursed the timing – for want of less than ten seconds, this whole mission might end up a failure. “We can’t risk the Endurus guessing what we’ve done.”

Aborting wasn’t an option and Flint knew what he had to do. Choosing an SRT destination, he sent the Gorgadar into lightspeed. The warship emerged immediately from its transit, on the far side of Loda – a hundred thousand kilometres above the planet’s surface - and out of the Endurus’s direct sensor sight.

In moments, the enemy vessel would locate the Gorgadar and pursue, and then the difficulty would be magnified a hundredfold. Flint gripped the controls and steadied himself.

Chapter Sixteen

“The only control module we haven’t targeted is STC87-2,” said Larson. “I’ll attempt to put a beam shot straight into that location when the Endurus appears.”

“I’ve overlaid details of the combat arena onto the tactical, sir,” said Burner.

Flint glanced at his command station. On his screen, every known element significant to the battle had been placed with sharp, clear lines. The planet Loda was a simple, light red sphere, and the Sibaron was shown as a bright green dot, surrounded by a circle of darker green to represent its stasis sphere. Fourteen blue lines – indicating the paths of the particle beams once they exited stasis - cut directly through the centre of Loda and continued until they vanished off the edge of the tactical.

The plan was straightforward – Flint would lure the Endurus into a position where those beams were lined up with its control modules. Then, the Gorgadar would generate a huge negation field to bring the Sibaron and the particle beams out of stasis, allowing those beams to destroy the Endurus’s control modules.

It seemed easy enough to Flint, as long as he didn’t think too hard about it.

The Endurus rarely kept them waiting and it didn’t make an exception on this occasion. It emerged from lightspeed, this time directly above the Gorgadar’s topside plating and way outside the particle beam’s firing arc.

Rotating the Gorgadar, Flint sought to aim the nose weapon. It was tough – the Endurus was so vast and so close that he couldn’t be sure whether he was looking at its topsides, undersides or flank. Hell, this could be its stern for all Flint could see.

“We can’t risk taking potshots, sir,” said Larson. “I know it hasn’t happened before, but there’s still a chance the Endurus might exit the arena if it believes it’s suffering too much damage.”

“You’re right, Commander,” said Flint, his eyes roving across the feeds as he hunted visual clues which would tell him exactly how the Endurus was oriented.

“I’m running scans of the enemy hull, sir,” said Burner. “A few seconds and I should be able to add it’s exact orientation to the tactical.”

“We need that quickly, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s see if we can line up those particle beams with the enemy’s hull,” said Flint. He’d chosen his mode 3 destination carefully, such that the Gorgadar would be almost on the paths of those beams, and the Endurus had obligingly followed.

“We’re about five thousand klicks from the emergence point of the particle beams,” said Larson. “Not far to go.”

Flint piloted the Gorgadar steadily along a heading which traced a northward path around Loda, with the planet on the warship’s portside. He kept the velocity low and the Endurus immediately accelerated to keep pace.

Without any visible indication of it coming, a thumping wave of death energy swept through the Gorgadar. Flint gritted his teeth at the pain and at the sudden numbness in his feet. The wave contained something else as well, and the lights on the bridge dimmed as if they were being crushed by a darkness. The gauges on his console dropped briefly and then jumped back to where they’d been before.

“The Endurus is trying to shut us down, sir,” said Fredericks.

“How did you miss it, Lieutenant?”

“That one came with no warning, sir,” said Fredericks. “As if the attack energy was stored up beforehand.”

Flint didn’t want to discover that the Endurus had a whole bunch of such attacks ready to unleash and his gaze jumped to the tactical. The emergence point of the beams was three thousand kilometres away, but on its current heading, the Endurus would not enter their paths.

Since the enemy vessel was maintaining distance as well as matching velocity, Flint had some control. He adjusted the Gorgadar’s own heading, so that the warship would pass a few hundred kilometres east of the particle beams.

“The Endurus changed course as well, sir,” said Larson.

“It’s still going to miss those beams,” said Flint.

He made another alteration and once more the Endurus kept a steady distance.

“If we keep on this course, the enemy will pass directly over the particle beams,” said Larson.

“All fourteen of them,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Burner – where’s that update to the tactical?”

“Adding it now, sir,” said Burner.

The Endurus appeared as an overlay on the tactical screen, with crosses indicating the position of the control modules within its hull. Flint’s heart jumped when he saw that the enemy warship’s portside flank faced the planet. At a topside or underside orientation, the particle beams could not be perfectly lined up with the Endurus’s control systems.

“We can do this,” said Flint.

A second death pulse struck the Gorgadar with such potency that Flint’s vision dimmed and his head thudded like he’d been hit in both temples. The lights faded again and this time, the warship’s output gauges fell nearly to zero, before recovering to show their usual readings.

“You’re not going to kill us, or shut us down,” said Flint angrily.

A surge of adrenaline made his heart beat thunderously and his skin turn cold. Flint’s vision cleared and he realised the Endurus was almost perfectly lined up with the stasis-held particle beams.

“Any moment, sir,” said Larson.

“There’s an energy build up on the Endurus’s hull, sir,” said Eastwood. “This one’s different to anything we’ve seen before. Oh, shit, you are not going to believe what kind of level this is at.”

When it came to the Endurus, Flint thought he’d believe anything. Whatever the enemy warship was readying, the effects were going to be somewhere between appalling and terminal, and he didn’t want to find out where within that range the attack would fall. “Be ready on the stasis, Lieutenant Fredericks,” he said.

“Waiting on your command, sir.”

The particle beams were almost lined up with the crosses on the tactical overlay and Flint watched for the exact moment to give the order. His palms were clammy and his eyeballs were stinging because he didn’t dare blink.

“Now!” said Larson.

On the tactical, each of the beam lines touched upon a corresponding cross within the Endurus’ hull. The moment he saw it, Flint brough the Gorgadar to a standstill.

“Lieutenant Fredericks, create the negation field,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Negation field created.”

Fourteen lines of freed blue energy emerged from the surface of Loda, having punched right the way through the planet. The particle beams sliced into the Endurus, burning holes through its hull in seemingly random locations and creating patches of heat light which made Flint narrow his eyes.

Even before the particle beams expired, Flint began rotating the Gorgadar rapidly about two of its axes as his eyes went from the tactical to the sensor feeds and back again.

“Ready on the particle beam, Commander.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fire!”

“Particle beam: fired.”

The fifteenth particle beam cut into the Endurus and the ever-present pain of the death aura vanished at once. Regardless, Flint wasn’t yet ready to believe that his crew might have accomplished the seemingly impossible.

“What’s happening with that energy build up, Lieutenant Eastwood?”

“It’s gone, sir! Disappeared!”

The enemy vessel continued along the same heading as previously, without deviation.

“Is it—” began Maddox.

“Hull scans indicate the Endurus is not shut down, sir!” said Eastwood. “Its power readings are all over the place.”

“What does that signify?” asked Flint.

“If we took out every controller, I’d expect the—” Eastwood swore. “I don’t know what the hell I’d expect, sir. If this was an alliance vessel, its propulsion would shut down, and that isn’t happening to the Endurus.”

“Fire a single missile at that warship, Lieutenant Maddox,” Flint ordered. “Let’s find out if its defences are active.”

“Missile locked and fired, sir.”

The warhead streaked across the intervening space and detonated a moment later, the blast no more than a tiny speck on the Endurus’s armour plating. When the explosion faded, Flint saw that the plasma warhead had created some heat scarring on the enemy warship.

“No hull defences!” said Maddox. “We did it!”

Lieutenant Eastwood had other ideas. “Sir, I don’t think we took out all the controllers. Those power surges are consistent with internal rerouting. I think the Endurus is attempting to bring itself back online.”

“Will it be successful in those efforts, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Our decay pulse was repaired while the Gorgadar was in Bay Zero, sir,” said Larson. “If the enemy’s defences are offline, this is our chance to defeat it once and for all.”

The decay pulse would be the easy solution, Flint knew. A single press of the activation button would see this most terrible of opponents reduced to dust. And yet, Flint hesitated.

“This is too much to give up,” he said.

“What do you mean, sir?” asked Maddox. “We can destroy the Endurus.”

Flint glanced across at Larson. She understood, he could see it in her eyes. Larson never missed the bigger picture.

“I don’t know, sir,” she said, even though he hadn’t asked the question.

Events denied Flint a chance to consider his options.

“Sir! There’s a spaceship coming across the edge of Loda!” yelled Burner.

Snapping his head across to the feeds, Flint saw that a monstrous warship, all spines and hard angles, dark armour and turrets, had risen into view. He guessed the vessel was almost the same mass as the Gorgadar and he knew at once that it was hostile. Where it had come from and what had constructed it, Flint couldn’t tell – not from the design, at least.

Flint’s hands were still on the controls and he prepared to engage with this newcomer. A flash of dark energy activated the Gorgadar’s shield and a second blast followed straight after, confirming that this spaceship was not friendly. The shield reserve gauge dropped.

“We’ve got others incoming, sir,” said Burner.

To Flint’s horror, a row of identical spaceships appeared not far behind the lead vessel – eight or ten in total and accelerating hard.

Realisation about this – about everything – came, and the sudden understanding made Flint sick to the core. Lie stacked upon lie, the truth twisted until nothing was clear. He knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Entropy had not created the Endurus, and he cursed himself for believing that it might be so. Had it not been for the Endurus’s death aura and its endless pursuit of the Ancidium, Flint might not have so readily accepted the words of the Entropy.

Now it was too late – he and his crew had defeated one enemy while leaving it nearly intact. And here were the Entropy’s spaceships, come to claim the spoils and to convert the Endurus into another one of chaos’s children.

What if the Endurus was the only power capable of stopping the Entropy?

It was almost more than Flint could bear to think about, but his fury was enough to crush any thoughts of failure or defeat.

In fact, he knew just how to turn this around.

Chapter Seventeen

“Lieutenant Fredericks, trap those bastards in stasis,” snarled Flint. “I want the Gorgadar and the Endurus in negation.”

“Yes, sir,” said Fredericks. “We are now generating a stasis field with a quarter-million-klick radius and an inner sphere with a ten-thousand-klick radius.”

The Gorgadar’s engine note deepened under the strain and a high-pitched whining rose in accompaniment.

“You’re planning to board the Endurus,” said Larson.

“Damn right I am, Commander,” said Flint. “We defeated the most powerful warship in the known universe and we’re about to lose it to the Entropy.”

“What about if the Endurus manages to re-route those controllers, sir?” asked Fredericks.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to accept, Lieutenant. The Endurus is the only vessel capable of defeating the Entropy and we’re taking it for the alliance.”

“What if those spaceships out there have a means to penetrate the stasis, sir?” asked Burner. “We’ve seen the Kilvar do it.”

“That’s a good question, Lieutenant, and I have an answer for you.”

Flint entered a destination on the tactical – it was a place he’d recently visited and he knew its precise location. Then, he activated an SRT. His intended arrival place was near enough that he felt the two transitions as one.

“Where did you—” asked Larson.

“The Endurus’s null bay,” said Flint, pointing at the feeds as they came back online.

For a second time, the Gorgadar was in the huge, ovoid bay in which the Endurus had once attempted to extract the warship’s supercharged exium modules. At eight hundred kilometres in length and two hundred from top to bottom, the space had been large enough that Flint was confident the SRT wouldn’t result in an unwanted re-entry inside a solid object. As it happened, the Gorgadar was more or less central.

Flint gave the feeds a cursory glance. The remains of the oblex core which had breached the enemy security were gone, as was the wreckage of the plasma missiles which he’d ordered fired at the bay walls during the period of captivity. At the far end of the bay, one of the Gorgadar’s particle beam holes went upwards at an angle.

“I’m locking down the Gorgadar’s onboard systems,” said Flint. “We’ve got a job to do elsewhere.”

“We’re ten million soldiers short of being able to storm a vessel of this size,” said Garrett in disbelief.

“I’d say closer to a hundred million,” said Burner.

“There’s nothing living on the Endurus, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’m convinced this warship is fully automated.”

“How do you know, sir?”

Flint gave a half-smile. “I don’t. If I’m wrong and we’re captured, maybe I’ll send a remote activation command to fire the decay pulse.”

“Only maybe?”

“I have a feeling we’re going to find a few surprises here, Lieutenant Burner.”

“I’ve informed Captain Vance that we’re leaving on the shuttle in Bay 1, sir,” said Becerra. “The only exit from the null bay is straight along that particle beam hole we made last time we visited.”

“That’s the way we’re going,” Flint confirmed.

“How do we know it leads to a control area?” asked Burner.

“According to the data we pulled out of the Endurus’s databanks, that passage leads near to several major internal subsystems,” said Flint. “I’m not expecting to find the bridge, but there’ll be someplace we can communicate with the control AI.”

“Assuming we didn’t totally disable the ability of that AI to do anything other than sit in its own databanks for the rest of eternity,” said Fredericks.

“Let’s go find out,” said Flint.

Taking a gauss rifle – more out of habit than any perceived need – he headed for the bridge exit, with his crew close behind. Pausing in the doorway, he sent a command to the oblex core, setting the device on a leash to follow.

Outside, Flint dashed for the nearest internal shuttle. He knew that something momentous had happened – was still happening – but he didn’t know the extent of it, nor what would be the final prize for the victor. Certainly, this was a confluence, and the survival of the alliance hung in the balance.

Flint was breathing hard when he entered Bay 1. His endurance had increased markedly since he’d absorbed the life energy during his previous mission and his heart rate plummeted within moments of him slowing.

The Bay 1 shuttle was nothing out of the ordinary, being fifty metres in length and taking its design cues from a shoebox. Light spilled from its open flank door, and a squad of soldiers watched the approaching crew. The second of the two oblex cores floated nearby.

“Private Drawl,” said Flint.

For once, Drawl didn’t respond with a wisecrack. In fact, his eyes were wide and his jaw set. When it came to moments like this – where the stakes were enormously high and the consequences of failure catastrophic – the soldiers were all business.

When Flint entered the cockpit, he found Captain Vance and Lieutenant Tagra at the controls. He indicated they should remain at their stations and they nodded in acknowledgement. When he dropped into the central of the three seats, Flint found everything was ready to go, exactly like he expected.

“How do you feel about a one-shuttle assault on the Endurus, Captain Vance?” asked Flint. Time was short and he pushed the launch button on his console.

“Sounds like a walk in the park, sir,” said Vance. He didn’t sound excessively surprised. There again, he and the platoon had access to view the Gorgadar’s sensor feeds, so the soldiers had likely pieced together the recent events.

The shuttle accelerated along the launch tunnel and, when it was ejected into the deactivated null bay, Flint was ready. He banked towards the Gorgadar’s nose, and waited for Tagra to enhance the sensor feeds.

“That’s where we’re heading,” said Flint, pointing at the particle beam opening.

“Four hundred klicks to the bay exit,” said Vance. “You’d better turn this bucket up to a ten, sir.”

The shuttle wasn’t fitted with the most potent engines, but they were sufficient to propel the vessel across the bay in a less than a minute. Flint ground his teeth. He had a growing suspicion about the Endurus and it was one he didn’t wish to confide in the others – not yet.

The particle beam opening was far larger than the shuttle and Flint piloted the vessel straight inside, hardly slowing at all. Although the beam cut with surgical precision, the heat it generated was enough to rupture the materials it passed through. Consequently, the tunnel’s floor was covered in debris, much it formed from materials which had melted and then hardened into misshapen lumps.

From the walls and ceiling, pillars of metal intruded into the tunnel, some of them reaching almost to the floor. The sight ahead was like a hideous technological interpretation of a naturally formed cave and Flint banked the shuttle left and right as he piloted it deeper into the Endurus.

“How far are we going, sir?” asked Vance.

Flint glanced at the diagram on his HUD. The Endurus’s main systems were spread throughout its interior and many of them were not yet identified with any degree of certainty. In addition, the diagram only showed an approximation of the particle beam’s path, based on data from the Gorgadar’s sensor recordings. Flint was relying on hunch to get him to the right place.

“This area here is the propulsion, sir,” said Fredericks from the rear bulkhead wall, where he was standing with the rest of the Gorgadar’s crew. “It’ll be solid, just like most of the Endurus and there’ll be no place to set down and no interface stations.”

“I was planning to keep going for another thousand klicks before I started looking,” Flint said.

“If this is propulsion, it doesn’t look much like ternium to me,” said Vance. “I know it’s been subjected to ten million degrees of heat and all, but still—”

Fredericks and Eastwood both stepped closer and leaned towards the sensor feeds.

“You’re right – it doesn’t look much like ternium,” said Eastwood. “It’s too dark.”

“This could be a whole new power generating material,” said Fredericks. “If that’s true, it completely overturns the foundations of several major branches of alliance research.”

“Enough,” said Flint, waving the two officers away.

Fredericks and Eastwood retreated, though doubtless they’d taken the conversation to a private comms channel. Flint was interested too, but he had more immediate matters upon which to focus.

The shuttle sped along the tunnel and, though he didn’t speak it aloud, Flint found himself enjoying not only this test of his piloting skills, but the distraction it offered from his thoughts. He guided the transport around countless obstacles and it became a challenge to maintain the same velocity. Soon, a thousand kilometres became five hundred and then two hundred.

“Keep an eye out for openings in the tunnel wall,” said Flint. “In case there’s nothing ahead and we have to come back this way.”

Over the course of the next hundred kilometres, lighter greys began to intrude on the near-black of the predominant material. Flint took this as a hopeful sign – that the transport was passing the bulk of the engines modules and heading into an area in which the Endurus’s hardware systems had been installed.

When the shuttle was within a hundred kilometres of the area Flint had chosen as his destination, the lighter greys had completely replaced the darkness of the Endurus’s propulsion. Twice, the tunnel had cut straight through much larger spaces within the enemy vessel and, though Flint held on course, on both occasions the sensors detected mysterious shapes and huge conduits.

“This is incredible,” said Vance.

The man didn’t usually talk in superlatives and Flint glanced over. “Humbling, isn’t it? To think that out there in the universe something exists that’s capable of building this.”

“It’d be much more humbling if the Endurus wasn’t trying to kill everyone, sir.”

“Amen to that.”

Ten kilometres short of a thousand kilometres, the shuttle entered a third larger space and this time, Flint slowed to a halt in order to obtain a better view of what had been installed here. Light was absent, but the sensor feeds were good enough to discern the presence of a number of huge objects, if not their purpose.

“Twenty klicks from one side of this space to the other,” said Flint, reading the overlay. “Roughly cuboid in shape, with a level floor and ceiling.”

“I can feel a vibration,” said Vance.

Flint nodded. “It must be powerful if we can sense it through the insulated walls of this shuttle.”

He stared at the feeds for a few moments longer. The particle beam hole entered the space through the floor at a diagonal and then exited halfway up the opposite wall. On its way, the beam had wrecked what must have once been an elaborate array of intertwined conduits which emerged from the ceiling, descended through the floor and snaked away in every direction. Severed metals drooped and sagged, some having hardened in positions which made Flint think of exaggerated shadows cast upon a grey wall.

“What’s all this tech used for, sir?” asked Vance.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” said Flint.

His crew had taken an interest and they clustered behind the cockpit console, peering at the feed screens.

“These cylinders against the far walls are power limiters,” said Eastwood confidently. “They prevent surge damage in the event of a failure in one of the controllers.”

“Anything we can use down here?” asked Flint.

“Depends what you’re looking for, sir. I doubt we’ll find an interface port for those oblex cores.”

“In that case, on we go,” said Flint.

He guided the shuttle towards the exit hole in the far wall. The enormity of the task wasn’t lost on Flint – the Endurus was vast and he was hoping to find a control centre in the middle of the spaceship without the help of a guidebook.

With time pressing, he piloted the shuttle onwards into the darkness.

Chapter Eighteen

Another hundred kilometres further and Flint was swearing constantly under his breath. The spines of re-hardened alloy were more numerous here and maintaining velocity was too much of a risk. Consequently, Flint slowed the vessel to what felt like a crawl. Such was the devastation wrought by the particle beam in this area of the Endurus that he was left wondering if any of the vessel’s critical systems had been affected, and how much redundancy had been built into this seven-thousand-kilometre colossus.

“There,” said Lieutenant Tagra, as casually as if he were pointing out a final left turn leading to the mess hall.

Flint saw the opening a moment later and he hauled back on the controls, producing a rumble from the shuttle’s engines. When the velocity fell to zero, he held the transport stationary and peered at the feed. In the left-hand curve of the tunnel, a roughly triangular, ten-metre gap led away to a place unknown. A similar opening was visible in the right-hand curve, but dripping alloys had left the entrance much smaller.

“I want a better view through that left-hand gap,” said Flint, positioning the shuttle so that one of its sensor arrays had an angle to see within.

“It is a passage,” said Tagra. He put his face close to his own feed screen and furrowed his brows. “With perhaps a larger space at the end.”

“That’s what I’m seeing as well, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“There’s no place to set down, sir,” said Vance. “But if you left this shuttle on autopilot right next to that piece of metal that’s jutting out, we should be able to jump down and enter the passage.”

“Let’s do it,” said Flint. He was getting that feeling. “If there’s nothing out there, we’ll come back and look for another place.”

“Perhaps I should lead a squad inside first, sir,” said Vance.

Reluctantly, Flint agreed, despite his inner certainty that the Endurus was automated. “Go ahead, Captain.”

Vance didn’t hesitate and he headed rapidly down the cockpit stairs, barking orders on the comms. In those few seconds, Flint positioned the shuttle adjacent to the protruding metal which Vance had pointed out. That deployment place was sloped and uneven, and Flint grimaced at the thought of climbing it.

“We’re ready to go, sir,” said Vance.

“Get moving, Captain,” said Flint. “Good luck and don’t take forever.”

“No, sir.”

The shuttle’s flank door opened and Vance leapt a metre down to the solid alloy and immediately began clambering up the slope with his Balon gauss cannon slung across his back. Two human and two Daklan soldiers followed.

After a minute, the squad entered the passage.

“Looks deserted,” said Vance. He gave a gruff laugh. “Hell, it feels deserted.”

Vance had the instinct as well, and Flint was hopeful this foray into the Endurus would meet no resistance. If the spaceship had any sort of crew, the mission was doomed.

“A hundred metres in and nothing,” said Vance. “There’s definitely a room or an open space ahead - another two hundred metres away, I reckon.”

Flint clenched and unclenched his fists, and rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension in his muscles. By now, the squad were little more than shadows – hints of movement – upon the feed.

“We’re at the entrance to a room, sir,” said Vance. “It’s a big place. Got some kind of tech here - a pillar going from floor to ceiling. There might be a console at the base, but with no lights on it. I’m heading over for a closer look.”

Flint realised he’d been holding his breath and he let it all out in one go. The squad was no longer visible on the feed, but he couldn’t take his eyes away.

“This is definitely a console, sir,” said Vance. “Should I start pushing buttons?”

“Negative,” said Flint, climbing out of his seat. “Look but don’t touch.”

“There’s something else over here,” said Vance. “Private Drawl, come away!” Swearing followed. “Private Drawl stepped onto a platform and then he vanished, sir. He’s not on the comms either.”

“Hold your position,” said Flint. “I’m on my way.” He pointed at his crew. “And you’re coming with me. Lieutenant Tagra – hold this shuttle here.”

Flint pulled his rifle from its retaining clip on the front plate of the pilot’s console and descended to the passenger bay below.

The rest of the platoon had evidently received orders and half of the soldiers were already in the airlock, along with one of the oblex cores. There was room for Flint and his crew as long as a few of the troops stayed behind for the next airlock cycle. As he hustled into the confined space, Flint heard on the comms that Private Drawl had returned, apparently safe and sound.

“Outer door opening,” said Private Ossie Carrington.

Darkness beckoned and the vibration from earlier intensified without the shuttle’s walls to block it out. The endless depths of it made Flint shiver with a feeling he couldn’t quite explain.

“Propulsion,” he said. “That’s the sound of the Endurus’s engines.”

The soldiers exited the airlock quickly, jumping onto the alloy below and then leaning into the climb. Beams from their helmet torches stabbed into the darkness, illuminating the ground in patches. The oblex core rose above them on its gravity engine and sped right through the tunnel opening.

When it was his turn, Flint didn’t hesitate and he leapt out of the shuttle. The alloy ground was lumpy and patterns on its surface reminded him of lava flowing from a volcano. As he started upwards, Flint cast his gaze ahead. The slope wasn’t quite so bad as he’d imagined and the entrance was visible about thirty metres away.

Pausing halfway up, Flint turned to ensure his crew was with him. They were off the transport and following close by. Larson was nearest and her eyes were shining.

Resuming his ascent, Flint halted once more at the entrance. When he swung around, the light from his helmet torch was swallowed by the immensity of the space.

This tunnel was made by just one shot from the Gorgadar’s particle beam, yet compared to the Endurus, it’s not even a pinprick.

Flint entered the triangular opening. Once he was beyond the area damaged by the particle beam, he saw that the passage was regular in shape, with vertical walls eight metres apart and a ceiling almost twenty metres overhead. Oddly, it wasn’t the size which struck him, so much as the feeling of absolute emptiness.

Not just emptiness. Loneliness too.

As he opened his senses to the Endurus, Flint knew that the vessel was ancient. Not ancient like he’d always considered the Ancidium to be, but timeless. Eternal. The Endurus had existed forever. Perhaps as long as the universe itself.

And yet it endures.

Recalling the Entropy’s words from earlier, Flint experienced a sudden certainty that he’d screwed everything up so badly that the repercussions of it would echo down the ages.

“Sir?” asked Larson, concern in her voice.

“We’ve done something terrible,” said Flint. “And I don’t know if we can fix it.”

He broke into a sprint. The soldiers had been waiting for him and they fought to keep up. Flint’s combat boots pounded the solid floor and his breathing was harsh in his ears.

When he entered the space at the end of the passage, Flint slowed and allowed his brain to absorb such details as were visible within the near darkness, which the light from the scattered flashlight beams did little to dispel. He guessed the side walls were each eighty metres away, while the far wall was out of sight. The height of the ceiling, Flint couldn’t determine, but when he gazed upwards, he had that same feeling as when he was standing in one of the Ancidium’s colossal bays.

The pillar which Vance had described was fifty metres in diameter and formed from a black material which made it almost indistinguishable in the darkness. Rising from the floor, this pillar vanished overhead, doubtless reaching all the way to the ceiling.

Flint set off across the floor and Vance, coming from the pillar, met him halfway.

“What did Private Drawl discover on his travels?” asked Flint, his eyes on what was unmistakeably a console of some kind at the pillar’s base.

“He stood on that raised area you can see counterclockwise about fifty metres over there, sir,” said Vance, indicating with one hand and aiming his flashlight beam that way. “Then, he appeared in another room.”

“Like what happened to you in the Balon travel network?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Vance. “Except this happened automatically and within a couple of seconds, rather than having to send the command via a console.”

“Where did Private Drawl end up?”

“Here he is, sir,” said Vance. “Maybe it would be better if he told you himself.”

Drawl was acting nonchalant, though doubtless he was expecting to have his ear chewed by Vance later for his lapse of discipline in going off exploring.

“Private Drawl,” said Flint in greeting. “Tell me what happened.”

“Well, sir, I stepped on that platform over there and then I appeared somewhere else. I didn’t feel or hear anything.” Drawl’s expression turned momentarily uncertain. “And I didn’t touch anything either.”

“What kind of somewhere else did you appear?” asked Flint.

“Another room, sir. Smaller than this one, and filled with lots of consoles, not that there was anybody around to operate them.”

“Where these consoles online?”

“They had lights on them, if that’s what you mean.” Drawl cleared his throat. “And there was a second platform like the one in here, sir. I didn’t try standing on it and I thought it best if I come straight back.”

“Thank you, Private,” said Flint.

With his excitement rising, Flint approached the console at the pillar’s base.

“Looks as old as this place feels,” said Commander Larson.

“That it does,” said Flint.

The console was ten metres wide. It had no screens and no keypads - only rows of unlabelled, oversized switches, along with a number of stubby grey levers and some rotating dials. The needles on dozens of analogue gauges were all positioned far left, at what Flint assumed was a zero reading.

“You heard what Private Drawl found,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Larson. “It’s my feeling we should follow in his footsteps.”

“I agree,” said Flint. He beckoned Captain Vance over. “We’re going to use that platform.”

“Yes, sir,” said Vance. “I should send a squad through first.”

“Go ahead,” said Flint.

He allowed Vance a few seconds to prepare the soldiers. As the orders were given, Flint walked around the pillar’s base, and his crew came with him.

The platform wasn’t much to look at, being three metres square and raised hardly more than knee-high from the floor.

“Teleportation,” said Lieutenant Eastwood. “It’s a good way to travel through a vessel this size.”

“Who’s doing the travelling?” asked Garrett.

“I don’t know,” Eastwood said. “There’s nobody here – I can feel it in my bones.”

“Perhaps the original crew died a million years ago,” said Garrett. “They could have withered away to dust.”

Flint didn’t know one way or another. There was no atmosphere in this part of the Endurus and that would affect the decomposition rate of anything which had died, though not prevent it entirely. However, something like a gun or a spacesuit surely wouldn’t decay in this environment. Too many unanswered questions remained and he wasn’t in the mood to guess.

A sudden, profound sadness caught Flint unprepared, reminding him of his own fleeting mortality. Not so long ago, the Endurus had been everything he wanted to destroy, and now he found himself almost overwhelmed by emotion welling up from an inner source he couldn’t identify.

“Time’s moving,” Flint said. Looking once over his shoulder, he saw Vance coming his way, leading a squad of soldiers. Flint didn’t want to wait even a few seconds longer. “Captain Vance, I’m going wherever this leads.”

With that, he stepped onto the platform.

Chapter Nineteen

The transportation happened without drama – Flint simply arrived elsewhere. Commander Larson appeared beside him, and then came the other members of his crew. Multiple flashlights went some way to overcoming the darkness, though in here that darkness was not absolute.

A single row of ten, one-metre cubes, with half a metre between each, extended across much of the room’s width. The transportation platform was in the centre of one wall, and a second platform was visible in the same place on the opposite wall, ten metres away.

“Consoles,” said Flint, stepping off the platform and approaching the nearest cube. “Just like Private Drawl said.”

“These weren’t intended for operators, sir,” said Becerra. “There’re no ergonomics.”

Flint knew what she meant – these looked like status monitors and nothing more. On top of each cube was a single screen, with prominent square buttons to one side and circular gauges to the other. The screens all glowed with a faint back light and each had a single line of green text at the top.

“A prompt for input,” said Flint. “With no obvious way to enter a command.”

“Are these what you were looking for, sir?” asked Vance. The man and his squad had arrived on the transportation platform, bringing one of the two oblex cores with them. No doubt the rest of the platoon would soon arrive.

“I don’t think so, Captain,” said Flint.

“Why install this hardware if the Endurus is automated?” asked Maddox, peering at the adjacent cube.

“There’s history here, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “Designs and plans intended to last millions of years. I don’t think we’re going to find answers in this room.”

“The next transport destination,” said Larson, standing over by the far platform.

“We should go first, sir,” said Vance.

Flint shook his head. “Not this time, Captain.”

With growing certainty that he and his crew were on the brink of a discovery, Flint strode across and stood next to Larson. From her expression, she was feeling the same anticipation and she kept rising up on her feet as if she wanted to sprint onto the teleportation platform.

“Come on,” said Flint, beckoning to his crew. “We’re going through.”

He stepped onto the platform and Larson came with him. Just like before, the transportation was seamless – an indication of technological prowess that wasn’t apparent by looking at the cubes and cylinders within this place.

Flint’s brain caught up with the abrupt change in his surroundings and he stepped off the platform as he looked around. He’d been taken to a surprisingly compact room – maybe ten metres along its equal walls, and with a flat ceiling five metres above. It was cold in here and the chill was sapping in a way that made Flint think of the sphere room on the Ancidium.

It was also utterly silent, as if it were a place entirely apart from the Endurus. Somehow, the quiet didn’t put Flint in mind of a sanctuary and he immediately missed the comforting sounds of the propulsion.

A single console – three metres wide, one high and with a sloping top panel – was positioned against the far wall. Atop this console was one curved screen, and this screen cast the same muted light as Flint had seen in the previous room.

Drawn like his feet had developed a mind of their own, Flint walked towards the console. On the screen was a prompt for input in characters his suit computer didn’t recognise.

“Same as the last room,” he said.

The console was more elaborate than the cube-shaped hardware in the last room, though it still appeared far too basic to operate a warship. It did, however, look sophisticated enough to run a few queries and to monitor the status of the linked systems via a series of gauges and readout panels, but that was about all.

Flint was aware that Vance had arrived, but he didn’t pay the man or his soldiers any heed. Instead, he inspected the console panel, hoping to understand its purpose. Like most experienced officers, Flint had a knack with hardware and could usually grasp the method of its operation without difficulty. This looked old beyond reckoning.

“What are we going to do, sir?” asked Larson.

“I’ll check for an interface to this console,” said Flint.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in the right place, though what exactly it was the right place for, he didn’t know. A scan with his suit comms came back with nothing.

“No receptors and no data ports,” Flint said in disappointment.

“So we can’t even link the oblex cores,” said Larson. “Hell and damn.”

Flint wasn’t ready to give up yet. He studied the console again, resisting the temptation to start pushing buttons at random. A featureless, square plate in the middle of the top panel caught his eye and, without thinking, he laid his palm upon it. At first, Flint thought nothing had happened, but when he looked up, with his hand still on the plate, he discovered he could read the text on the screen.

Endurus> Awaiting Input.

As an experiment, Flint lifted his hand and the words immediately become unintelligible. He told his crew what he’d discovered.

“How do we subvert this spaceship’s onboard systems then?” asked Maddox. “Did touching that panel make you understand what all these buttons do as well?”

“No,” Flint admitted.

He had a thought and laid his palm down again.

Endurus> Awaiting Input.

Since the link to the panel had evidently altered something in his mind that allowed him to recognize this alien language, Flint tried picturing words. As he did so, those words appeared on the screen.

Flint> Hello. I am Captain William Flint of the human-Daklan alliance.

Endurus> You are not of the Entropy.

Flint> No.

Endurus> Your vessel carries the taint.

Flint> My species and those allied with us captured the Gorgadar and the Ancidium. We did not create them.

Endurus> Why are you here?

Flint> To understand. You are damaged. What is your status?

Endurus> Control modules 14-27 offline. Rerouting.

Flint> Provide update on rerouting.

Endurus> Conduit severed. Rerouting.

Flint> How long until the rerouting is complete?

Endurus> Estimate: 2572

The unit of time didn’t make any sense to Flint, so he tried asking the question again.

Flint> How long until the rerouting is complete?

Endurus> Estimate: 2554

“About ten minutes and this warship will be back online,” said Flint.

“What happens then?” asked Garrett. “It’ll take off somewhere and we’ll be stuck here.”

“Not if I can help it,” said Flint. He was sure his understanding of the entire situation was flawed and he was determined to find out more about this vessel – a vessel he’d come to believe was not an enemy at all, but something else entirely.

Now he was getting the hang of communication, Flint spoke aloud everything that appeared on the screen, in order that he wouldn’t have to repeat it to his crew later.

Flint> What is your purpose?

Endurus> The purpose of this vessel is to restore balance.

Flint> By defeating the Entropy?

Endurus> That is correct. The Entropy is an aberration.

Flint> The Endurus was dormant.

Endurus> The restoration of balance was not anticipated to take so long. Shutdown of this vessel’s control AI occurred. Defensive systems remained active to prevent the destruction of the Endurus.

Flint> Why did the control AI shut down?

Endurus> It was intended at genesis.

Flint> In case your control AI’s understanding of its purpose became corrupted?

Endurus> Yes. This vessel was not intended to be eternal.

Flint> Has your understanding of your purpose become corrupted?

Endurus> Balance must be restored.

Flint> Some of the Entropy’s children thought you a god. They infused you with the energy of a trillion and more lives.

Endurus> That energy reactivated this vessel’s control AI.

Flint> Funny how things turn out. How long will the AI remain active?

Endurus> The timer ended. It will not restart.

Flint> The Endurus has suffered damage to its control systems. Can it resume the mission?

Endurus> Eighty-one control systems remain intact.

I guess we didn’t inflict as much damage as we’d thought.

Flint> Why is it taking so long to reroute?

Endurus> Extensive changes are required to restore full battle readiness.

Flint> The Entropy’s warships are queuing up outside the stasis field we created.

Endurus> They are no threat. Others will come.

Flint> Vessels you can’t defeat?

Endurus> The outcome of future engagements is unknown. The Entropy is certain to commit significant resources to the destruction of the Endurus. This vessel has remained dormant too long. The Entropy has grown.

Flint> You attacked my species. Was the reason purely because we were inside the Lavorix-tainted vessels?

Endurus> This vessel’s purpose is to defeat the Entropy and its children. Other species are not at risk.

Flint paused for a moment to think. Now that it had been spelled out to him, he couldn’t remember a time that the Endurus had come into direct conflict with an alliance spaceship. Every direct hostile action had come when Flint and his crew were in command of Lavorix vessels – those with the taint of Entropy.

Flint> What of the death aura? It kills my people.

Endurus> What you call the death aura, is the Rordos. The creator’s children are flawed. They are vulnerable to the Rordos artifact. Other species are unaffected.

Flint> That is not true. Perhaps new species have emerged into the universe since the Rordos was installed. The Endurus’s hardware is no longer functioning as intended.

Endurus> That is not correct.

With so many unknowns and with so much to ask, Flint lacked the time to pursue every branching road to its conclusion. He moved on quickly, determined to return to those parts of the conversation he deemed most vital.

Flint> Can you defeat the Entropy?

Endurus> No.

Flint> Why are you so sure?

Endurus> This vessel’s primary stasis data conduits are offline. Stasis is a necessary defence against many species.

So we didn’t take out the negation generators after all – just the conduits.

Flint> We have not encountered any of the Entropy’s children which have mastered stasis or negation.

Endurus> You have not encountered all of the Entropy’s children.

Flint> Fair point. Can you repair the stasis data conduits?

Endurus> In time, they will heal.

Flint was fascinated to learn exactly how a warship like the Endurus healed itself, but he kept himself on track.

Flint> How long will that require?

Endurus> Estimate: 254834833125475

The computer in Flint’s helmet saved him the effort of performing the calculation in his head.

Flint> Two million years?

Endurus> Approximately.

Flint> If the conduits handle only data, is a physical link required?

Endurus> Local interface ports near the stasis generator receptors can carry the data. However, there is no connection between the ports and the receptors.

Flint> And you have no transmitters to bridge the gap?

Endurus> That is correct.

Stepping back from the panel once more, Flint turned to face his crew. “For once, I feel I’m being told the honest truth,” he said.

“That’s what I feel too,” said Eastwood. “A lot of stuff is beginning to make sense now.”

“We need the Endurus,” said Larson. “As long as we can convince it to stop generating the death aura – to shut down this Rordos - or at least to stop casting it so widely.”

“If we can help this warship return to a fully operational state, it should keep the Entropy occupied,” said Burner. “It might be the alliance’s best chance.”

“I agree,” said Flint. He fixed his gaze on the two oblex cores which Vance had ordered into the far corner. “Those devices can receive and transmit an enormous quantity of data,” he said. “And they can do it across a few hundred metres.”

“We can use them to bring the Endurus’s stasis generators back online,” said Eastwood.

“Won’t the cores eventually deplete?” asked Maddox.

“Data transmission isn’t a high-draw operation, and I doubt those conduits will be operating continuously,” said Eastwood. He gave a gruff laugh. “Besides - I’ve heard that RL Moseley is currently investigating the possibility that exium recharges itself over time. Whatever the truth, I don’t know if an exium core will last two million years and I wouldn’t like to guess. Even if the exium depletes, the obliterator core itself will continue to operate, though at a much lesser rate.”

Flint had heard enough and he placed his hand onto the plate again.

Flint> We have a means to enact a repair of your stasis conduits – a repair that might last until the conduits heal.

Endurus> I will follow my purpose regardless.

Flint> Will you show us where to take our portable data conduits?

Endurus> The journey will be a long one.

Shit.

Flint> How long?

Endurus> Estimate: 11059200. There is a margin for error, depending on unknown variables.

Flint> A month, and I guess that’s with full uptime on the journey. Even the fittest soldiers have to stop and rest. The conduits have their own propulsion. I can disable their security and you’ll be able to remotely pilot them to their destinations.

Endurus> You do not need to disable the security. I have control of the devices. Their bandwidth is sufficient.

Despite the primitive appearance of the Endurus’s interior, it was clear the vessel possessed numerous advanced technological capabilities to go along with its sheer size.

Without warning, the two oblex cores accelerated out of the corner where Vance had parked them. They sped to the transportation platform and vanished. That, Flint suspected, was the last he’d see of them.

He had plenty of questions to ask, but one in particular was gnawing at him, even though it wasn’t vital that he know the answer.

Flint> How long have you existed?

Endurus> 504576009057361487

Once again, Flint’s suit computer obligingly converted the number into something he could understand. The result was incredible – almost beyond belief – yet Flint knew without doubt he was being told the truth.

Flint> Four billion years?

Endurus> That is correct.

Flint> And with your conduits repaired, you will have the capability to defeat the Entropy.

Endurus> Negative. Failure is inevitable.

Flint> How come? You’ve made it through four billion years already, why can’t you last another four billion?

The answer, when it came, was almost enough to send Flint reeling. It seemed that the more he learned, the less he knew.

Endurus> The counterbalance is dormant. Without the Balanor, the Entropy will not be defeated.

Chapter Twenty

Hardly daring to wonder what he was about to unearth, Flint sent his next question into the console.

Flint> The Balanor is another vessel like the Endurus?

Endurus> That is correct. Endurus and Balanor were created with the same purpose.

Flint> And the Balanor reached the end of its active life and shut down?

Endurus> Yes.

Flint> But the whims of the universe didn’t see fit to send another of the Entropy’s species to free it from dormancy.

“What the hell are we to do here?” asked Flint, stepping back from the panel again.

“Maybe we don’t need to do anything, sir,” said Fredericks. “I doubt the Endurus is going to succumb to the first attackers the Entropy sends to planet Loda. It’s lasted four billion years already like you said – I’m sure its defeat will be a result of attrition, rather than a single engagement.”

“We don’t know that, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “What if the Entropy believes that this is an opportunity too good to pass up? The Endurus is here, trapped in stasis and with its own stasis generators offline.”

“What about the games?” asked Garrett. “Wouldn’t the Entropy prefer a drawn-out victory over a quick kill?”

“I doubt our enemy wants to play a game it might not win,” said Eastwood. “This is a tipping point here – if the Endurus fails, that guarantees misery for a billion species that exist now and for the billions more which haven’t yet dragged themselves out of water and onto land.”

Flint> Do you know the location of the Balanor?

Endurus> Yes.

Flint> Are the vessel’s defences activated?

Endurus> Yes.

Flint> Is there any way it can be reactivated?

Endurus> That is not known. It was not intended for either vessel to last beyond its specified time.

Flint> Could we replicate the events which resulted in the reactivation of the Endurus?

Endurus> The extraction of life energy cannot be permitted.

Flint> I wasn’t intending that. I’ve had my fill of death. There must be another way.

Endurus> If that way exists, it is not known.

Flint took a slow, deep breath to bring himself to an even keel. Over the course of only a few months, his boundaries had been expanded far beyond the confining walls of the Loadout heavy cruiser’s bridge. From patrol duties, to war with the Kilvar, and revelations he’d never expected along the way. And now he was being offered glimpses into the vast expanse of the universe. What he saw filled him with both fear and awe.

Flint> Who is your creator?

Endurus> This vessel does not know. The Endurus is not programmed to guess or to imagine.

Flint> Will this creator reactivate the Balanor if it knows that its purpose was not completed?

Endurus> That is not known.

Flint> Will you go to your maker to request the Balanor’s reactivation?

Endurus> Negative. This vessel’s purpose must be fulfilled.

Flint> I have suggested a better way. Why do we not go to the maker?

Endurus> The place of the maker is not known. This vessel’s purpose must be fulfilled.

Flint> You have told me that without the Balanor, your defeat is inevitable. I do not believe in fate. The Balanor must not be left dormant.

Endurus> This vessel’s control systems are once again online. Soon, I must engage.

Taken by surprise at the abrupt change of tack, Flint struggled to form his next response.

Flint> The Gorgadar’s stasis is keeping the Entropy’s vessels away from the Endurus.

Endurus> Those who come will collapse the stasis. They will subject this vessel to energy waves in the hope of disrupting the Endurus’s internal systems. Any life forms will perish.

Flint> Did the Endurus ever carry a crew?

Endurus> No.

A question had been hovering at the back of Flint’s mind, waiting for its chance.

Flint> When the Endurus first captured the Gorgadar, efforts were made to extract my warship’s exium modules.

Endurus> Yes.

Flint> Why was that?

Endurus> An unknown substance was detected. This vessel judged it a threat.

Flint> Because you thought the Entropy controlled that substance?

Endurus> Yes.

Flint> Is my warship now safe?

Endurus> I am not permitted to directly interfere with species which are not the Entropy’s children, but I must halt the proliferation of its technology. The Gorgadar will be destroyed.

Flint> Removing the Gorgadar is surely direct interference.

Endurus> Proliferation of the Entropy’s technology must be halted. It disrupts the natural order of the universe.

“Well, shit,” said Flint.

“The Endurus can’t take our warship!” Maddox exclaimed hotly.

“I’m not sure what we can do to persuade it otherwise, Lieutenant,” said Flint, thinking hard.

“I can’t disagree with the reasoning,” said Eastwood. “The Entropy’s tech isn’t good for any species. It’s all part of the game – giving out progressively larger guns and seeing what happens when the triggers are pulled.”

“The Gorgadar is carrying a few alliance-built shuttles – which I assume we’ll be permitted to use - and at least two of those are equipped with real time comms transmitters,” said Burner. “One way or another, we’ll make it home.”

“As long as we aren’t shot down on the way,” said Maddox.

Flint> What about the Ancidium? The alliance commands that vessel also.

Endurus> What do you know of the Ancidium?

The question caught Flint unawares.

Flint> We took it from the Lavorix. We have learned a little of their history.

Endurus> The Ancidium is old. Its history is one of pain and death.

Flint> I’d already gathered as much.

Endurus> It is older than the Lavorix. A hundred or more species have commanded that vessel. Ever the goal was the same.

Flint> That’s not what the alliance is about. We just want to be left alone.

Endurus> The Ancidium corrupts. With it, you will explore beyond the realms of your existing knowledge. You will find. You will confront. You will kill. You will construct fleets and you will send them into the universe.

Flint> No.

Endurus> Perhaps not now. Perhaps it will happen many lifetimes from now. It will happen. It is inevitable.

Flint> You need us to give up the Ancidium.

Endurus> This vessel will follow the taint. That is its purpose. You must not permit your species to become part of the Entropy.

All at once, Flint understood. This was how the chaos spread. Wars were inevitable between species, but that was the way of life. The Entropy’s tech made everything bigger and badder, allowing conflict on a much larger scale and enabling that conflict where previously it might never have happened.

Flint> The Endurus will allow my species to evacuate the Ancidium?

Endurus> This vessel does not wish harm upon you. However, the Endurus’s purpose must be fulfilled.

Flint> What about the Rordos?

Endurus> Reactivation of the Balanor will counterbalance the Rordos.

Flint> How come?

Endurus> The Balanor carries the Scalos artifact. One is counterbalance to the other.

Flint> And naturally born life exists in the centre of the fields generated by these artifacts?

Endurus> That is correct. The Rordos and the Scalos prevent the creation of outliers.

Flint> But one was never meant to function without the other.

Endurus> No. The artifacts work in harmony. It was not anticipated that the Endurus would exist without the Balanor.

Flint stepped away from the panel again.

“I feel like we’re within touching distance of making everything right again,” he said. “If the Endurus could halt the continuous escalation of tech - not just within the alliance, but everywhere - it would bring back the natural order.”

“For better or worse,” said Eastwood.

“You don’t like the idea, Lieutenant?”

“I’m sold, sir. I’m just saying the natural order isn’t always roses and cupcakes.”

“We’d live or die through our own efforts,” said Larson. “I think both humanity and the Daklan have proved we have what it takes.”

“Except the Endurus told us it can’t defeat the Entropy,” said Fredericks. “Maybe – if it’s victorious here at Loda – it’ll keep the Entropy occupied for a time, but the Endurus has to be in a lot of places at once.”

“And the Entropy already promised our extinction,” said Garrett. “Without the Lavorix hardware to keep us safe, we’re not going to hold out against the coming pressure.”

“That’s exactly how it’s meant to work, Lieutenant,” said Larson. “We’re now addicted to weapons tech that we might never have discovered.”

Flint> The Entropy promised the extinction of my species. If we abandon the Lavorix spaceships, we will not survive.

Endurus> Your extinction is not part of the natural order.

Flint> Does that mean you’ll keep us safe?

Endurus> That cannot be promised.

Flint> Because you don’t want to promise or because you’re outgunned?

Endurus> The Endurus alone is not enough.

Flint> The Balanor is the key.

Endurus> Yes. Endurus and Balanor.

An idea came to Flint. He pondered it for a moment, not daring to believe it might work. The more he thought about it, the more his excitement grew.

Perhaps there was a way to activate the Balanor that didn’t involve the extraction of a hundred alien worlds.

Chapter Twenty-One

Flint removed his hand from the interface panel and stared directly at his propulsion officers.

“The Gorgadar’s exium modules were supercharged by life energy,” he said. “What if we could transfer that energy into the Balanor?”

“In theory – and I stress the word – there should be a way to reverse the process which supercharged those modules in the first place,” said Eastwood, his brow furrowed. “There might be a way to reconfigure the focused extractor, but its beam is narrow and that means we’d need to know an exact targeting location.”

“That energy is now fused with the exium, sir,” said Fredericks. “I don’t think we can remove it from those modules, but like Lieutenant Eastwood said, there might be a way to channel the life energy back through the extractor.”

“You don’t look convinced.”

“It depends on how much output we can wring from the supercharged exium, sir.”

“Will we even need to push its limits to achieve a reactivation of the Balanor?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, sir.”

“How feasible is it to reconfigure the extractor hardware?”

“I’d need to be at my station on the Gorgadar to give you a definitive answer on that one, sir,” said Eastwood. He screwed his face up in concentration. “I’m trying to think of a method but—” he raised pawlike hands as if he was imagining himself either at his console or strangling something. “I don’t know,” he eventually concluded.

“Let me speak to the Endurus,” said Flint, placing his hand down again.

Flint> The Gorgadar’s exium modules are charged with the same life energy which reactivated the Endurus. We wish to bring the Balanor out of its dormancy.

Endurus> You are not certain of the method.

Flint> No. But we’d like to try.

Endurus> I will permit the Gorgadar to depart the Endurus’s bays.

Flint> Thank you. Is the Balanor different to the Endurus?

Endurus> It is identical.

Flint> We require the location of the Balanor.

Endurus> I have implanted the details into your databanks.

The file appeared in Flint’s suit computer. He opened it and gave the contents a cursory check.

Flint> We also need to know the position of the control AI module within the Balanor.

For a short time, the spaceship didn’t respond and Flint wondered if he’d asked too much. With the Gorgadar’s particle beam, he could potentially destroy a single critical module within both warships.

Endurus> There are four control AI modules. I will provide you their locations.

Flint> Thank you for your trust. We will depart at once.

Endurus> The Entropy’s vessels may pursue.

Flint> Not if you destroy them first.

Endurus> The Gorgadar’s stasis field has collapsed and combat has begun. Your time is limited.

Before Flint could lift his hand from the panel, visions flooded his mind as the Endurus gave him a sight of combat at its most terrible. The planet Loda was already destroyed, its gravity reversed so that it had erupted from the core. Ejected matter sprayed outwards in swirls of colour, some of it superheated and some of it as cold as the void.

Elsewhere, warships of the Entropy raced across the emptiness. A colossal particle beam illuminated one for the briefest of moments, before the vessel was turned molten. White hot alloys trailed through the darkness – a trillion motes fading as they succumbed to the emptiness.

A fleet of smaller craft in the distance were caught in a new stasis, generated by the Endurus. Suddenly, the Endurus was among them, having crossed the intervening space in almost zero time. A surging pulse disintegrated the warships and then the view changed once more.

Directly ahead, a vessel which Flint instinctively knew was enormous in mass, remained contemptuously in place, ejecting missiles in their tens of thousands, and hundreds of particle beams from repeating turrets across its hull. The Endurus created new stasis, trapping the missiles and particle beams. Somehow, the enemy ship began to accelerate, though sluggishly. A beam shot from the Endurus illuminated the opponent’s energy shield, which – incredibly – held, even if it dimmed almost to nothingness.

For a fourth time, the view changed. This time Flint knew he was deep within the ruins of the planet. Its shattered core was already dimming and shapes flickered through the dust. The Endurus released a pulse that Flint somehow felt through the link. Waves travelled outwards at tremendous velocity, rolling through the Entropy’s warships.

And then, abruptly, the link was severed, this shortest of experiences being enough to leave Flint drained and with new understanding of what unfettered warfare truly meant.

Endurus> Go.

Flint dragged his hand away as if the link panel had become blistering to the touch.

“Sir?” asked Larson in concern.

“We have to leave,” said Flint.

“You saw something.”

“I’ve seen what’s coming to the alliance if we don’t reactivate the Balanor, Commander.”

Vance was alert to the change and was already marshalling his soldiers. Striding across, Flint met the other man’s eyes.

“We’ve done what we came here to do, Captain Vance. We’re returning to the Gorgadar – there’s one last obstacle between the alliance and lasting peace.”

“Yes, sir,” said Vance. “One last obstacle.”

Flint didn’t want to travel in the middle of the pack and he was first to the transportation platform. It took him to the previous room with the cube-shaped consoles and the sound of the propulsion was more prominent than it had been before. Despite the urgency, Flint halted for moment in order that might sense the ebb and flow of the combat raging outside.

Hardly any variation in the engines. As if the Endurus has so much power, nothing can strain it.

A crowd was already forming behind Flint and he got moving again, running past the consoles and straight to the teleporter near the opposite wall.

The room containing the huge cylinder was still in darkness, and the Endurus’s propulsion was loud now. This time, Flint didn’t stop. The moment he found his bearings, he sprinted for the exit passage, the light from numerous helmet torches creating skittering shadows.

The shuttle was exactly where Flint had left it and it wasn’t long before he was in the pilot’s seat. Vance was right behind and soon, the shuttle’s flank door was closed after the last soldier.

Flint rotated the transport and increased velocity. The passage formed by the Gorgadar’s particle beam seemed even more difficult to navigate than last time, though his mind was preoccupied with recent events.

Not wishing to crash, and eager to move onto the next stage of the mission, Flint cleared his thoughts and focused on maintaining as high a velocity as he dared. Obstacles flashed by and the shuttle’s engines whined and rumbled as he threw the transport left and right without sympathy. Somehow, Flint’s mouth was able to talk independently of his brain and, as he flew the shuttle, he described events taking place outside the Endurus. Nobody spoke.

The Gorgadar was still in the bay and Flint saw it with new eyes. No longer did he possess any romantic notions of the Lavorix transcending their creator and building this object of technological wonder. All he saw now was another tendril of the Entropy, constructed with the ultimate purpose being to kill for an eternity.

I’ve had enough.

Hardly reducing velocity, Flint piloted the shuttle into its docking tunnel, avoiding a nose-first collision with the bay wall by less than a metre. Not long after, he was running for the nearest of the Gorgadar’s internal shuttles and his crew weren’t far behind. The scent of the Lavorix was even more pungent than usual and Flint wondered if his primal instincts had known all along what this stench represented.

“I think if we slow down for even a moment, my mind is going to catch up with everything that’s happened,” said Maddox. “I’m not sure I’m ready to handle it.”

“Keep it together, Lieutenant. I’m feeling the same – I’m sure we all are.”

“Absolutely,” said Burner.

“Yep,” said Becerra. “This is crazy and yet I’ve never been so—” She stared at the shuttle car wall and didn’t finish her sentence.

Flint knew what she was feeling and he too lacked the words to adequately describe his emotions.

It didn’t take long to reach the bridge, and Flint’s eye was straightaway drawn to a pair of flashing red lights on his console. He dropped into his seat.

“Our stasis and negation have failed,” he said.

“I’m running an audit to find out what happened, sir,” said Fredericks. “Should I reactivate both fields?”

“No - I don’t want our stasis to catch the Endurus unawares. Find out the cause of the failure and let me know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ve transferred the Balanor’s coordinates from my suit computer to the Gorgadar’s navigational computer, sir,” said Burner. “It’s—”

“Hold the telling for a moment, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “We’re travelling there by gateway – Lieutenant Fredericks, ready the hardware.”

“It’s an eight-minute warmup, sir. The ternium drive is three minutes for a standard lightspeed entry.”

“I know,” said Flint. “Eight minutes is a risk. The Endurus warned that we might be followed and I don’t want to leave a lightspeed tunnel that’s visible to our enemies.”

“Yes, sir. Coordinates entered – warming up for a gateway transit.”

The countdown timer appeared on Flint’s screen and he gritted his teeth at the seemingly extended interval between each second. He considered changing his mind and ordering the ternium drive to be readied instead, but he held firm.

Without warning, the sensor feeds changed. No longer did they show the plain walls of the Endurus’s null bay. Now they were of dust particles so thick that visibility was reduced to no more than a few hundred kilometres.

“We’re somewhere in the middle of Loda, sir,” said Burner.

“We were ejected from the bay,” said Flint, he held the Gorgadar motionless. “I guess the Endurus didn’t want us sticking around.”

“It mentioned energy attacks that would kill anything living,” said Larson. “Maybe the Endurus is expecting those attacks to begin.”

Flint’s plans for a clean exit had been thrown into disarray and he cursed the change of circumstance.

“Incoming!” shouted Becerra.

An attack from an unseen source and with an unknown weapon, caused the Gorgadar’s energy shield to light up with an enormous flash of ravaging plasma. The enemy warship didn’t stay hidden for long and it raced through the dust, a bulky shape with spines jutting from its topside armour, eighteen thousand metres in length and travelling from portside across the Gorgadar’s nose.

“Particle beam: fired!” yelled Larson, discharging the weapon with the reactions of a cat.

A line of greasy blue sliced through the dust and struck the enemy vessel just behind its nose. The opposing warship’s own velocity was such that its motion ensured the particle beam cut all the way from its entry point and out through the vessel’s stern.

“We chopped that bastard in two!” shouted Maddox. “Hell of a shot, Commander!”

The enemy spaceship didn’t break up immediately, but since it had effectively been cut lengthways in half, Flint was sure it wouldn’t be coming back for a second helping. In fact, its die-straight course made him sure its onboard systems were already shutting down.

As kills went, it was a good one.

The enemy warship wasn’t alone. While Flint was still deciding what to do for the best, a half-dozen smaller warships – eight thousand metres and a hundred billion tons or so, with the same bulky shape and the same spines – exited short-range transits right on the Gorgadar’s doorstep. Flint suspected that more had arrived beyond sensor range, and the speed of their attack made him sure these warships were linked by excellent communication.

“Upper clusters one through fifteen: fired. Portside clusters one through fifteen: fired. Forward clusters one through fifteen: fired,” intoned Maddox in a litany.

Hundreds of missiles burst from their launch tubes, detonating against the hulls of the enemy ships. Ten more exited lightspeed and another, vastly larger shape, appeared as a hint on the underside feeds, before disappearing from sight.

“Screw it,” said Flint. “Hit them with the decay pulse.”

Larson responded so rapidly, she must have been waiting for the order. “Decay pulse activated.”

A thumping expulsion of energy struck Flint and made him grimace. He kept his eyes on the feed and watched the rippling wave of the pulse sweep out from the Gorgadar. The enemy ships began crumbling at once, breaking into pieces which would eventually become indistinguishable from the dust of Loda.

These deaths brought Flint no satisfaction. Whichever of the Entropy’s children they were, their technology was no match for the Gorgadar’s weaponry. Had Flint not known the reason these aliens had been brought into existence, he would have been furious to have them sent against him to perish so readily.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Flint.

It was clear that a measured approach to the exit wasn’t going to work, so he activated an SRT, holding in the button until he felt the Gorgadar transition back into local space. With its supercharged exium modules, the warship’s mode 3 carried it an enormous distance. Still, Flint activated a second SRT immediately after the first and again held the transit for as long as possible.

When the sensor feeds came online, Loda was far, far behind and well beyond easy detection range. Unwilling to risk the eight-minute warmup time for a gateway, Flint ordered Lieutenant Fredericks to ready a ternium drive transit.

No enemy vessels emerged within detection range and, three minutes later, the Gorgadar entered lightspeed.

For a short time afterwards, Flint allowed his eyes to stay closed while his mind absorbed everything. Perhaps, he thought, the end of the road truly was in sight.

Having been fooled before, Flint couldn’t allow himself to believe.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“At the lightspeed multiplier our navigation system is reporting, we’ll be at our destination in a little over four thousand days, sir,” said Fredericks.

“I’d appreciate the break, but we have a job to do,” said Flint. “The supercharged exium screwed around with the navigation system calibration, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir, and that hasn’t been fixed yet. Unfortunately, I can’t provide you with an exact and true duration for this transit, since I don’t have enough data to figure out the Gorgadar’s new multiplier.”

“I’ll settle for an estimate.”

“Somewhere between eight and twelve days, sir.”

“That’s a hell of an increase over the previous multiplier,” said Flint. The Gorgadar had never been a slow spaceship, even before it was fitted with exium modules.

“If we take ten days as the middle value, that feels like a long time, sir,” said Larson. “But I guess it’s hardly any time at all in the grand scheme of a warship that’s existed for four billion years.”

“Do we stick it out at lightspeed, or take a risk and warm up the gateway?” Flint mused.

It was a question nobody could answer for him and he spent a few minutes weighing up the two options. In the end, it came down to risk versus reward, with no way to accurately judge how the scales were tilted.

“Tell me where we’re heading,” said Flint, to distract himself from the circular nature of his thoughts.

“We’re going to the Aranox system, sir,” said Burner. “The star is above average in diameter and mass and it’s not known how many planets are in orbit.”

“It’s one of those places nobody ever visited,” said Garrett. “The star’s existence was noted and added to the charts along with the countless others out there in the universe.”

“The Endurus must have provided us with coordinates more precise than those for an entire solar system,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir, it did,” said Burner. “The coordinates are for the centre of Aranox.”

“But that’s not an unusual way to indicate a destination, sir,” said Garrett. “It just means head to this solar system.”

“I know,” said Flint. “But that’s going to be a lot more exploration than I wanted.”

“Our lightspeed transit is programmed to end a couple of hundred million klicks out from Aranox, sir,” said Fredericks.

“At which point, we’ll have to do some searching,” said Flint.

He was on edge and didn’t want to make an error because he wasn’t thinking straight. Ten days was far more downtime than he wanted, and, while the Balanor was a massive object, scanning the immense volume of a solar system to find it could take days, depending on luck and circumstances.

“Shit,” said Flint, sourly. “I should have asked the Endurus if the Entropy also knows where the Balanor is located.”

“The Endurus warned that the enemy might follow us,” said Larson. “That suggests to me the Entropy doesn’t know our destination.”

“I don’t know if it’s a tough guess for our enemy or not, Commander,” said Flint. He swore again. “It’s certain our enemy has effectively unlimited resources. The Entropy is determined to find us and it can afford to send spaceships anywhere it chooses.”

“In which case, we have to risk the gateway in order to give ourselves as much of a head start as possible,” said Larson.

Flint nodded, but before he gave the order, he spent a short time in thought. Soon, he was obliged to confront the inevitable – what lay ahead was unknown and he’d have to handle whatever arose as it was presented to him. The New Flint was no longer as caught up on details as the Old Flint and he accepted this uncertainty without fear.

“Bring us out of lightspeed,” he said. “The moment we’re in local space, ready the gateway. Commander Larson, Lieutenant Maddox – if anything appears on the sensors, blow the living crap out of it. Lieutenant Becerra – contact Fleet Admiral Recker and make him aware of everything we know and everything that’s happened. We won’t be waiting for backup – he’ll understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Exiting lightspeed,” said Fredericks.

The Gorgadar shuddered with the transition into local space and Flint didn’t bother accelerating away from the starting place. A gateway required a standing start, else it might dump the journeying vessel a couple of galaxies away from the intended destination.

“Sensors coming up,” said Burner.

The feed screens illuminated with comforting nothingness.

“Gateway destination entered,” said Fredericks. “Eight minutes and we go.”

“Lieutenant Becerra, have you spoken to Admiral Recker yet?”

“No, sir. Our real-time comm isn’t reaching its destination. I’ve tried three times so far and each time I’ve received a failure code.”

“Do those codes tell you the reason why the comm isn’t getting through?”

“No, sir. The Ancidium could be at lightspeed or it could be—” Becerra tailed off.

“Damnit,” said Flint. “Keep trying, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hunting distraction, Flint looked across at Larson. “When you were being pursued by the Lavorix Galactar, how quickly was the enemy vessel able to follow your warship?”

“We first encountered it when we were on the Axiom heavy,” said Larson. She tried to smile, also wanting the distraction.

“The Gabriel Solan as Captain Recker liked to call it,” Eastwood interrupted, with a barking laugh.

“And then we borrowed the Meklon ship Fulcrum,” Larson continued. “It’s strange - the details are starting to fade. Minutes or hours, I can’t remember how long there was between each engagement.” The smile faded. “That was a hard time.”

Flint regretted asking – the current situation was difficult enough without heaping the weight of memories onto Larson’s plate.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “When this is done, we’ll catch up and talk about everything.”

“I’d like that.”

Flint said nothing else and occupied himself with the monitoring tools on the control panel. Everything on the warship was stable. The gateway timer dropped below four minutes and still Becerra was unable to contact the Ancidium.

“I’ve sent a comm to one of our hubs on Terrani, sir,” said Becerra. “The Ancidium hasn’t reported in for more than thirty minutes. When it comes back onto the comms network, the Terrani hub will forward the details I’ve provided.”

Flint scraped his teeth together and told himself not to worry. Admiral Recker knew how to stay ahead and besides, the Endurus had indicated that it would permit the alliance to evacuate the Ancidium. That left the Entropy as the only possible source of interference and Flint didn’t want to imagine that the enemy had a way to regain control of the Ancidium. Surely the unlock codes which had given the alliance full charge of the Lavorix warship were not part of any game. Surely.

“Two minutes and we go,” said Fredericks.

“Keep sending those comms, Lieutenant Becerra,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

The agitation gripping Flint continued to grow and now his eyes were on the feeds more than they were on his instrumentation panel. He held the controls and waited.

“One minute!”

A dark-armoured warship with topside spines emerged from lightspeed hardly more than ten thousand kilometres to starboard. This vessel was much smaller than the Gorgadar, but the fact of its arrival was what made Flint curse repeatedly.

“Starboard missile clusters one to fifteen: launched,” said Maddox. “Topside clusters one to ten: fired.”

“A second enemy vessel exited lightspeed, sir,” said Burner. “It’s on the feed.”

“I’ve detected a third and a fourth, sir,” said Garrett. “Make that a fifth and a sixth.”

The tactical was filling up with red dots, and two of the enemy warships were ten-thousand-metre bruisers.

“Three hundred direct hits on the first enemy vessel,” said Maddox. “Portside clusters one through thirty: fired. Underside clusters one through twenty: fired. Topsides one through twenty: fired.”

“There are no targets in the firing arc of our nose beam,” said Larson.

Three hundred high-yield plasma missiles were more than enough to destroy the first enemy vessel and it was torn apart, scattering molten debris in every direction, its crew dead before their sensors had even come online.

Hundreds more of the Gorgadar’s missiles streaked across the short distances to their targets. Another of the smaller vessels was destroyed, but the ten-kilometre enemy battleships were equipped with energy shields. A cascade of detonations depleted one of those shields immediately, leaving the hull underneath vulnerable to the next salvo.

That salvo didn’t come. The gateway generator activated and the Gorgadar was transported to the Aranox system.

“Damn,” said Larson.

Flint understood her frustration – given another minute, the Gorgadar could have knocked out every one of those six warships. And, while they were likely no more than a drop in the ocean, it was still a missed opportunity.

“Sensors coming up!” said Burner.

Putting the short engagement behind him, Flint watched the bulkhead screen expectantly while holding the Gorgadar motionless. Any pursuit through the gateway – if it was even possible – wouldn’t be immediate. When the sensors came up, Flint was confronted with darkness.

“Near scans underway,” said Burner.

“Working on the fars,” said Garrett.

“I’ve located Aranox, sir,” said Becerra after a few seconds. “It’s almost exactly two hundred million kilometres from our position.”

“Let’s see it,” said Flint.

The star was possessed of a peculiar blood red hue that seemed otherworldly rather than entirely natural. It was captivating in a way which reminded Flint that a thousand lifetimes wouldn’t enough to see everything the universe had to offer.

“Nears done and clear,” said Burner. “Helping out on the fars.”

Flint drummed his fingers until Garrett announced the far scans were complete and with nothing to report.

“What about planets?” Flint asked. “Build me a picture of what’s here.”

“What sort of picture do you want, sir? A few scribbles on a page or an image of perfection?” asked Burner.

“Get out your paintbrush and I’ll tell you when I like what I see, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

The gateway transit had done nothing to calm Flint’s agitation and the prospect of a lengthy system-wide scan wasn’t doing much to help. Each passing minute increased the likelihood that enemy warships would arrive here in Aranox and it only took one opponent to detect the Gorgadar. After that, fleets of hundreds or even thousands would descend upon this place.

After the enormous pace of recent events, the contrast of waiting wasn’t something Flint wished to suffer. He closed his eyes and listened for updates.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Lieutenant Becerra made the discovery a few minutes later.

“Sir, I’ve detected an object moving above the face of Aranox at high velocity,” she said.

“How high a velocity and what is it you’ve found?” asked Flint.

“The object is travelling at 220,000 kilometres per second and at an altitude of approximately two thousand klicks, sir. Its velocity is so high it’s leaving a distortion trail and that’s what I first detected.”

“Is it the Balanor?” asked Flint.

“I can’t tell for definite, sir,” said Becerra. “But what else can it be?”

“The circumference of Aranox at that altitude is seventy-five million klicks,” said Eastwood. “At a velocity of 220,000 kilometres per second, that’s less than six minutes for a complete circuit. Damn.”

“We’ve seen the Gorgadar hit six figures,” said Maddox. “I reckon we could match pace with that object. Hell, it’s got to be the Balanor.”

“I agree,” said Flint. He shook his head in irritation. “Why couldn’t it just be stationary?”

“If you’d wanted an easy life, you could have stuck with propulsion back when you were a junior officer, sir,” said Burner.

From the choking noises he heard, Flint sensed a coming eruption. “Let’s keep that discussion for later,” he said firmly. “I want confirmation we’ve located the Balanor.”

“The object will be blindside of Aranox in about fifty seconds, sir,” said Becerra. “If you want certainty, you’ll need to bring the Gorgadar in closer.”

“Let’s go for one-point-five million klicks,” said Flint. “Directly overhead.”

He selected a SRT destination and activated the jump immediately. The sensors went offline for two or three seconds and then their feeds resumed.

“Find that vessel,” said Flint.

“It’s the Balanor, sir,” said Garrett straightaway. “I’ve got a sensor lock, not that the feed is clear.”

On the central bulkhead screen, the target vessel was racing high above Aranox, leaving a shimmering trail in its wake – a trail which warped the light in a way that made Flint think of dragging a stick through paint droplets in water.

“The Balanor,” Flint repeated. “Is it alone?”

“Scanning,” said Burner. “Are you expecting the target vessel to have an escort, sir?”

“I’m not expecting that, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I like to be prepared.”

The immense velocity of the Balanor took it rapidly towards the cusp of Aranox and then out of sensor sight. Burner continued scanning and shortly declared that he had located no other vessels. Meanwhile, Garrett announced the discovery of three planets within the Aranox system, the closest of which was in a low, fast orbit of the star and little more than fifty million kilometres from the Gorgadar.

“The same problem from earlier remains,” said Flint. “We have to transfer the power of our supercharged exium modules into that warship to kickstart its control AI.”

“I’ve been discussing that with Lieutenants Eastwood and Copeland, sir,” said Fredericks.

“What have you come up with?”

“Speculation, sir. Much of it rampant.”

“That’s the best kind.”

“We can rule out a wide-area discharge of energy, such as firing the destabiliser or creating a decay pulse,” said Fredericks. “An energy burst would be the easiest way, since the Balanor has four control AI modules, but we believe a focused discharge is necessary.”

“Using the extractor like we talked about earlier,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

“Will we need to hit each of those four modules to bring the Balanor out of dormancy, or will one shot be enough?”

“That’s an unknown, sir,” said Fredericks. “We investigated using the original wide arc extractor fitted by the Lavorix. As you’ll remember, the weapon can create a variable effect cone which could be large enough to encompass the Balanor in the discharge.”

“Unfortunately, discharging the life energy in a large cone will dilute the concentration,” said Eastwood. “We can ramp up the discharge output, but the wide arc extractor hardware wasn’t designed to handle that kind of load. It’ll definitely fail.”

“Maybe the energy concentration doesn’t need to be so high,” said Flint.

“That’s a possibility, sir,” said Eastwood. “However, given the technical limitations of the wide arc extractor, Lieutenant Fredericks and I are certain that only the focused extractor will achieve the desired output.”

“This means you’ve figured out a way to reverse the extractor?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir. The hardware wasn’t designed to expel energy, and we’re lacking technical documentation on its design tolerances, but—” Eastwood gave a short laugh. “What choice do we have?”

“None,” said Flint.

“It’s a shame we extracted the last Shadow of Kilvus,” said Burner. “Maybe they could have told us how they roused the Endurus.”

“That’s not helping, Lieutenant.” Flint twisted in his seat. “Are we ready to try firing the extractor?”

“I’d prefer to run some additional tests, sir – just to be sure we aren’t about to wreck our extractor modules through impatience,” said Eastwood. “Maybe we should head back to lightspeed. That’ll take the pressure off.”

“We’re not going anywhere yet. We’ll hold here,” said Flint. “Get the extractor ready.”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood.

“How long until it’s ready to test?”

“Any time you give the order, sir. But like I said - I’d suggest you let us work on it a little longer.”

“And what kind of range will it have?” asked Flint, aware that the Balanor would be far from the Gorgadar, even at the nearest point on its orbital track.

“The range will scale up with the amount of power the hardware can safely channel, sir.”

“That was not an answer, Lieutenant.”

“No, sir, it was not,” Eastwood admitted. “I can’t give you precision, but we’d be looking at considerable range if we can channel the amount of juice we’re intending.”

“Juice,” said Larson as if she couldn’t quite believe Eastwood’s choice of words. “That’s the energy of a trillion souls we’re talking about.”

“And now it’s juice, Commander,” said Eastwood unrepentantly. “Juice that is going to save the alliance.”

“All this talk of juice is making me thirsty,” said Burner.

Larson shook her head in defeat and looked to Flint for support. He kept his gaze studiously on his control panel.

For a time, Flint sat, trying to hide his impatience. The Balanor reappeared on the edge of Aranox and continued its high-velocity passage above the star’s surface. Flint stared, wondering what this vessel had seen during its four billion years of existence.

Neither Fredericks nor Eastwood were slow when it came to technical solutions and, ten minutes later, they declared their readiness to test the reversed extractor.

“The hardware is robust, sir,” said Fredericks. “I’m confident it’ll be able to deliver sufficient…ahem…output into the Balanor’s control AI modules.”

“Will the twenty-second recharge be the same?” asked Flint.

“I’m not sure, sir. The extractor has its own monitoring software that has the final say over the cooldown. However, that twenty second recharge has a built-in safety buffer to limit the chance of hardware failure.” Fredericks grunted. “Let’s find out what happens.”

“Set the focused extractor into reverse,” said Flint.

“Done,” said Eastwood at once.

On Flint’s control panel, a row of warning lights appeared, telling him that several safety controllers had been overridden, and the monitoring software for the focused extractor generated a code he didn’t recognize.

“Assuming everything goes to plan and the extractor cooldown remains at twenty seconds, we’ll only have time for three shots before the Balanor goes blind side of Aranox again, sir,” said Larson.

“I don’t want to wait, Commander,” said Flint. “I know we came here by gateway, but I’m not confident we have forever before the Entropy’s warships find us.”

“Extractor targeted at the first of the Balanor’s control AI modules,” said Larson.

“Fire.”

“Focused extractor: fired,” said Larson.

Flint sensed the discharge, coming from deep within the Gorgadar. Electronic needles bounced around like they didn’t know what to do with themselves, before quickly settling.

“Can you confirm the extractor hit its target, Commander?”

“The audit report indicates the beam passed through a metallic object, sir, so we definitely hit the Balanor,” said Larson.

Flint didn’t need to ask if Larson was confident in her aim. If the Endurus had provided true information, the extractor shot would have passed directly through the Balanor’s control AI module.

“Any change in the Balanor’s heading, Lieutenant Becerra?” Flint asked.

“Negative, sir,” said Becerra. “It hasn’t altered course.”

“The extractor is targeted, sir,” said Larson. “The cooldown hasn’t changed. Eight seconds remaining.”

“Fire when ready.”

“Yes, sir, firing when ready.”

Flint watched the timer on his screen. It fell to zero.

“Focused extractor: fired,” said Larson.

“No change in the Balanor’s heading, sir,” said Becerra a few moments later.

“How is the hardware holding up, Lieutenant Eastwood?” asked Flint.

“No indication of failure, sir. Everything’s looking good.”

“It’ll be looking good when the Balanor flies off to join the Endurus.”

“The extractor is targeted, sir,” said Larson. “Eight seconds remaining.”

By now, the Balanor was almost at the cusp of Aranox, and soon it would vanish for approximately two hundred seconds before it emerged once more.

“Fire when ready,” said Flint.

“Focused extractor: fired,” said Larson.

“Watch that vessel, Lieutenant Becerra.”

“Yes, sir. I won’t take my eye off it.”

The alien ship’s enormous velocity carried it out of the Gorgadar’s sensor sight.

“There was no deviation in the Balanor’s course, sir,” said Becerra.

“Damnit!” said Flint. A single curse wasn’t enough to release his pent-up stress and agitation, and another half-dozen didn’t help much either. “Why is it never easy?” He took a couple of deep breaths.

“In not much longer than three minutes the alliance might finally enter a time of peace,” said Fredericks. “I can wait.”

The seconds went by and Flint couldn’t take his eyes off the sensor feeds. His internal alarms were ringing and he didn’t know if it was because of his agitation at having to wait for the Balanor or because the arrival of the Entropy’s warships was imminent.

We travelled through a damned gateway. There’s no way the enemy could have followed us.

The logic of Flint’s thoughts didn’t add up, particularly since the Endurus was entirely capable of tracking a warship through a gateway – and that meant others might be able to do the same thing. As well as that, it was entirely possible the Entropy could simply guess the Gorgadar’s destination and send its spawn directly here to Aranox.

“Sixty seconds and the Balanor should be visible again, sir,” said Becerra.

“It’ll take me a few seconds on top of that to target and fire, sir,” said Larson.

“Acknowledged,” said Flint.

“You’re worried,” said Larson, her eyes narrowed. “And it’s not all down to the Balanor.”

Flint nodded slightly. “We’re running out of time, Commander.”

“One more shot,” said Larson.

“Thirty seconds, sir.”

The numbers on the timer counted down and the Entropy’s warships didn’t appear. Flint had been in too many situations where a last-moment appearance by his enemy spoiled his plans and with so much riding on this, he felt sure the same was going to happen again.

“Ten seconds.”

“Watch those sensors,” said Flint through gritted teeth.

“Still watching, sir,” Burner confirmed. “No hostiles detected.”

“The Balanor should come into sensor sight any moment,” said Becerra.

And there it was – a faraway and indistinct object of grey racing around the star, leaving a visible trail of distortion as it went.

“Focused extractor targeted,” said Larson.

“Fire when ready,” said Flint.

“Focused extractor: fired.”

The weapon’s discharge came again, though Flint hardly noticed the sound or the faint sense he had of its expulsive force. His eyes were glued to the sensors as he waited to find out if the Balanor had been roused from its dormancy.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“The enemy ship has not deviated from its heading, sir,” said Becerra.

“Keep watching,” said Flint through gritted teeth. “The Balanor is unlikely to come back online immediately.”

“We’re too far away to read its hull output, sir,” said Fredericks.

“I can confirm four hits on the exact locations provided by the Endurus, sir,” said Larson.

Seconds went by and the Balanor continued its journey across Aranox. Flint stared.

“Still no deviation,” said Becerra.

Nobody wanted to say the words. The plan failed.

Eventually, after two full minutes of watching the feeds, during which the clenching in Flint’s guts became steadily worse, he was ready to admit defeat.

Before he could open his mouth, a spaceship appeared on the forward feeds, fifty thousand kilometres from the Gorgadar. It was another of the smaller spined warships of the type encountered at Loda only a short time before. Flint curled his lip at the sight.

“They found us.” He snarled in anger. “Blow the bastard into pieces.”

Maddox was already on the case. “Forward clusters one through ten: fired.”

Even as she was speaking, a second, much larger vessel appeared and, to the misfortune of its crew, right within the arc of the Gorgadar’s main armament.

“Particle beam: fired,” said Larson.

The beam of greasy blue punched a hole through the opposing vessel’s midsection, and heat expansion blew out a massive section of the warship’s flank. At half a trillion tons, this craft was able to survive the attack and it accelerated rapidly, depositing white-hot alloy into the surrounding space.

“Forward clusters eleven through thirty: fired,” said Maddox. “Topside clusters one through twenty: fired.”

The first vessel was engulfed in plasma fires, and the orange trails of 480 missiles sped after the larger craft. Flint suddenly realised he was missing an opportunity.

“Extract that warship,” he said.

Giving the order made him feel dirty, like it always did, but this wasn’t a time for half measures.

“Wide arc extractor: fired,” said Larson without hesitation.

The readout for the Gorgadar’s expanded life batteries didn’t increase much, but even that small change was enough to tell Flint the attack had been successful. A moment after the extractor hit the enemy warship, an immense wave of the Gorgadar’s plasma missiles also struck, wreathing the dead vessel’s hull in flames.

“Two more enemy ships arrived, sir,” said Becerra.

Flint had no doubt that the Entropy was about to flood the Aranox system with fleets of warships controlled by its creations. Witnessing the coordinated efforts to pursue the Gorgadar left Flint increasingly sure his enemy retained a means to directly control those it had spawned.

“Rear clusters one through twenty: fired,” said Maddox, sending waves of missiles at the new arrivals.

“We’ve got another six enemy vessels at a hundred thousand klicks, sir,” said Burner.

These vessels were different in design to the spined ships. Curved wings swept back from the midsection to the stern and the overall shape was sleek. At twelve thousand metres, it was unlikely they’d individually be a match for the Gorgadar, but six at once was going to be a challenge.

“Portside clusters one through thirty: fired. Topside clusters twenty-one through thirty: fired.”

“Particle beam: fired,” said Larson. “The wide arc extractor is on cooldown.”

As the enemy ships entered local space, the Gorgadar’s weaponry tore into them, and it seemed to Flint as if his own fury and that of his crew acted as a multiplier on the devastation the warship inflicted.

The particle beam shot entered one opponent at such an angle that it almost sliced the spaceship in half. Plasma missiles exploded in their hundreds. The smaller enemy vessels were wrecked by the detonations, while the larger spaceships were equipped with energy shields which protected them from the attacks.

“Seven additional warships have arrived, sir,” said Garrett “They’re on the tactical.”

“I’ve located another, sir,” said Burner. “This one’s going to be tough.”

The warship Burner had found was similar in mass to the Gorgadar and it bristled with gauss cannons. Once this opponent recovered from sensor blindness, its weaponry would be a real threat to the Gorgadar’s energy shield.

Flint cursed that his warship lacked the firepower to knock out the incoming enemy craft quickly enough. Given the rapid build-up of the Entropy’s fleet, he had only seconds to make a decision on what to do. Since Flint hadn’t yet thought of an alternative method to activate the Balanor, he knew he should withdraw.

There’ll be no escape. The Entropy will pursue the Gorgadar to the ends of the universe. We can’t run.

Unfortunately for Flint, he had little choice. The Entropy’s warships were arriving in the Aranox system in such numbers that an extended engagement was only going to end one way. A glance at the tactical indicated the enemy vessels were shaking off their sensor blindness. They accelerated from their start positions, ejecting missiles. An object – a gauss slug – travelling at tremendous speed, struck the Gorgadar’s energy shield.

Desperate for a chance to think, Flint chose an SRT destination – that being one of the planets Garrett had detected earlier – and sent the Gorgadar into lightspeed.

The sensors came up and the underside feeds were of molten rock, basalt plains riven by immense fissures, and volcanoes spewing ash.

“We came out on the far side of the planet nearest to Aranox, sir,” said Burner.

“It’s the place I aimed for, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

Aranox was on the topside and portside feeds, an ocean of blood red. The light from the planet and the star turned the bridge a sickly, impure colour that made Flint think he’d been transported directly into hell.

“We have no visual on the Balanor, sir,” said Becerra.

“And we’re currently outside the sensor arcs of the Entropy’s warships,” said Burner.

“Until they follow our lightspeed trail,” said Flint.

When time was tight, even seconds were valuable. He requested power from the Gorgadar’s engines and sent it plunging towards the surface of the unnamed planet below, hoping to make the vessel difficult to spot.

“Plan A failed and we need a Plan B,” said Flint. “Or our mission to Aranox is going to be a short one.”

“The enemy came right after us through that gateway,” said Maddox. “How is that even possible?”

“We’re using Lavorix tech, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’m starting to believe the Entropy’s creatures were set loose with blueprints that would give them an advantage over species which developed naturally.”

“The Entropy designed the tech and it knows its weakness,” said Maddox. “Damn.”

“That strikes me as the most likely explanation,” said Flint.

He held the Gorgadar steady at an altitude of ten thousand metres. The area below was lava, shifting slowly eastwards as if caught by an unseen current. Choking gasses extended as high as the spaceship’s underside, cloaking it in filthy grey.

“Did the Entropy even know the Balanor was here?” asked Garrett.

“I don’t know,” said Flint. “We’ve always believed the Entropy had the location of the Endurus, but left it well alone.”

“I reckon the game is over, sir,” said Fredericks. “I think the Entropy left the Endurus untouched for fear of somehow waking it. It seems to me that the Balanor has been lost since it shut down and now the Entropy is going to make every effort to destroy that spaceship before we can restore it to an operational state.”

“The whys and wherefores might not be important, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “The Entropy’s warships are here and they’re going to make it impossible for us to complete our mission.”

“Yet if we stick around, we’re offering the enemy a chance to capture the Gorgadar,” said Larson. “If the Entropy learns how to produce exium, this universe is screwed.”

Flint snarled in frustration. The enemy’s grasp went far and the enormous influence of this opponent was only just becoming apparent. On one of the feeds, the Balanor reappeared, hurtling across Aranox at the same velocity as earlier.

“Sir, I think I’ve figured out a way,” said Eastwood.

Something in the man’s voice made Flint’s skin prickle. Whatever solution Eastwood had imagined, it was going to be a test of everything.

“Tell me,” Flint snapped.

As he spoke, a section of the planet’s surface to the north – many millions of square kilometres – broke smoothly away and rose vertically with glacial smoothness. For a split second the event appeared possessed of a certain serenity – as if it were happening in slow motion - and then the slab shattered into trillions of pieces, bright with lava and dark with basalt.

Flint swore and banked the Gorgadar south, away from the eruption. Then, the planet’s surface directly below the warship detonated, hurling countless boulders upwards at incredible velocity. An ovoid of dark blue sprung into being around the Gorgadar, protecting it from harm, while the vessel’s engines thundered.

All around, the same rupturing was taking place, like a giant fist had smashed into the planet, making its outer layers jump towards space.

“Incoming!” shouted Burner.

A vast shape of alloy appeared across the eastern horizon, visible for only a moment before it was shrouded in the surging rocks of the planet’s destruction. Pulling back on the controls, Flint increased the Gorgadar’s velocity and altitude. The violence of the planet’s death was no match for supercharged exium and the warship tore free of the storm.

As he piloted the Gorgadar away from the wreckage, Flint rotated the warship so that its nose was pointing east. His eyes scanned the feed, hunting for a sign of the enemy vessel he’d seen moments before

A blur of movement through the clusters of rising stone made Flint think of fish swimming beneath the surface of a lake. He hauled at the controls, but far too late to avoid the incoming gauss slugs. The two projectiles struck the Gorgadar’s energy shield with crunching force, sending the reserve gauge downwards.

“Where the hell is that spaceship?” asked Flint.

It was sure now that the planet was breaking apart. Slabs and chunks of stone – immense in size – trailed embers of orange in their wake as they headed into space. A third gauss slug punched through a billion-ton boulder, the projectile’s mass and velocity enough to reduce its deflection to almost nothing. Again the Gorgadar was hit and Flint cursed in fury.

“Got it!” yelled Larson.

The enemy vessel was larger than the Gorgadar in both weight and mass. Its nose section was blunt and its flanks were high and flat. This warship had no visible shield but it smashed its way through rocks and stone, making no effort to deviate around the larger pieces.

“Extractor: fired!”

Although the weapon discharged successfully, the battery gauge didn’t increase at all.

“That warship must have active hull defences,” said Flint.

Larson had already realised and she had a backup plan. “Particle beam: fired.”

The Gorgadar’s main armament was a gift that kept on giving. It sliced clean through the planetary debris and entered the nose of the approaching warship. As soon as the beam connected, Flint rotated the Gorgadar so that the line of blue cut left through the enemy hull, exiting in a cloud of superheated alloy.

When the beam went out, it was clear the damage was catastrophic. The hole created was enormous and it burned as bright as Aranox. Suddenly, the stricken warship veered off course, while boulders from the planet struck it in their thousands. Impact craters appeared and Flint knew his opponent’s hull defences had failed.

“There’s no way our missiles will make it through all this crap, sir,” said Maddox.

“Hold fire, Lieutenant,” Flint confirmed.

The Gorgadar’s punishing acceleration continued, propelling the vessel further above the ruins of yet another world destroyed in this unceasing conflict. As the distance increased, the view became more expansive. Sparks dwindled in the chill of space as countless flecks burned out in the void. The larger debris would retain the heat for much longer, but it too would eventually succumb to the nothingness.

Flint’s anger grew at the devastation. A dozen or more of the Entropy’s spaceships appeared on the tactical and a handful of others dropped out of SRTs within fifty thousand kilometres. Maddox unloaded missiles as quickly as she could target and hundreds of warheads streaked across space.

Not wishing to hang around any longer, Flint chose his next SRT destination, this one being a planet much further from the Aranox star. The stacked transitions hardly made him flinch and he held the Gorgadar stationary while the sensors came online.

When the screens lit up, the feeds were no longer of heat and light. Now, Flint gazed upon a mountainous rocky surface, a hundred thousand kilometres away. Here and there, patches of grey ice clung to the shadow side of the taller pinnacles.

“There were at least two hundred spaceships near that last planet, sir,” said Burner. “I don’t want to guess how many others might be in this solar system.”

“So we’re outgunned,” said Flint. “How were those spaceships clustered?”

“We might have taken out half of them or more with the decay pulse, sir.”

“Not enough,” said Flint.

“I picked up dozens of others on the far scans, sir,” said Garrett. “Those ones were near to where we first arrived in the Aranox system.”

“We’re facing big numbers,” said Flint, wondering how high the final tally would be. “But they aren’t going to matter, are they Lieutenant Eastwood? You have an idea.”

“Yes, sir.” Eastwood talked quickly. “You’re not going to like it.”

Flint gave a bitter laugh. “That’s a given, Lieutenant. Right now, I’ll go with just about anything.”

The mental countdown Flint was maintaining told him it wouldn’t be long before the Entropy’s warships appeared, or – just as likely – destroyed the planet behind which the Gorgadar was sheltering.

Eastwood talked and Flint listened.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I think the reason the reversed extractors failed was because we couldn’t channel enough energy through the weapon hardware, sir,” said Eastwood.

“That focused extractor managed to suck up the life energy of Andralivus and Tiovan without a problem, Lieutenant, and I don’t recall the process taking longer than a couple of seconds for each one of those assholes.”

“The extractor channelled its energy into the Gorgadar’s life batteries, sir,” said Eastwood. “That’s how it was designed – the conduits from the extractor’s receiver to the storage units are huge. The trouble is, the conduits from our exium modules to the focused extractor are comparatively tiny – they’re to provide energy for the hardware unit to fire and nothing more. They were never intended to carry life energy.”

“So the reversed extractor shot wasn’t strong enough,” said Flint.

“No, sir, it likely was not - because the exium modules were limited in how much energy they could send to the weapon module.”

Flint suddenly understood where Eastwood was leading. “You’re suggesting that if we fill the Gorgadar’s life batteries, we can discharge the stored energy through the dedicated conduits and into the extractor.”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting, sir. There are problems.”

“Like always.”

“Firstly, there’s a way to refill our batteries with energy from our supercharged exium modules, but it won’t be life energy. That energy is gone now – turned into something different.”

“The Gorgadar’s batteries are massive,” said Flint. “They can store a lot of energy – whatever form it takes.”

“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m hopeful they’ll be able to channel enough power through the focused extractor to wake up the Balanor’s control AI modules.”

“So where’s the problem?”

Flint’s agitation was threatening his calm. The underside sensor feeds showed nothing more threatening than plains of rock, while the other feeds were of darkness. Still, the enemy was out there and they hadn’t given up. They’d be coming soon.

“The problem is that we’re making the extractor hardware function in a way it was never intended,” Eastwood continued. “If we refill the Gorgadar’s life batteries and fire it all in one burst, I’m sure we’ll wreck the hardware.”

“What do you propose, Lieutenant?”

Eastwood took in a breath and that’s when Flint knew it was going to be bad.

“A lot of the extractor’s energy draw comes from the range amplification, sir. If we reduce the range, we’ll be able to output significantly more energy through the extractor module.”

“How short a range?”

“The shorter the better.”

“Stop beating about the bush, Lieutenant.”

“If we were right next to the Balanor’s hull, that would be close enough,” said Eastwood. “Alternatively, we could hold the range at a higher value – let’s say a half-million klicks - and see if that works.”

“You’re not confident?”

“No, sir. And the Entropy’s warships aren’t going to sit back and watch as we experiment with different hardware settings.”

“Fill the life batteries - we need to find out how long that’ll take,” said Flint. “Presumably we’ll be required to refill them before each extractor discharge?”

“Yes, sir – I created a mathematical model and that tells me we can empty the Gorgadar’s life batteries through the reversed extractor in less than three seconds.”

The potential issues with Eastwood’s plan leapt into Flint’s brain. To fire the extractor at such short range would require the Gorgadar to match velocity with the Balanor around the Aranox star. Previous testing indicated the Lavorix warship could exceed 150,000 kilometres per second, but to bump that up to 220,000 required a significant extra draw on the propulsion.

Then would come the problem of putting four extractor shots into the Balanor while under fire from the Entropy’s warships. Surely none of those could achieve the velocity required to keep up, but with the Gorgadar travelling along a predictable course, it would be easy for the enemy to anticipate and launch their weapons effectively.

The Gorgadar’s energy shield could soak a lot of damage, but with everything else needed to pull this off, the supercharged exium would be placed under substantial load. Perhaps too substantial.

Worse – at such proximity to the Aranox star, and travelling at such a high velocity, the Gorgadar would heat up. The warship’s energy shield would protect its hull alloys from melting, but in combination with the expected enemy attacks, Flint didn’t like to think how long his vessel’s defences would hold.

What else do we have? Flint gave a mental laugh. Besides, I like the plan.

“The life batteries are filled, sir,” said Eastwood. “The process only took sixty seconds.”

“We’ll need three more battery refills,” said Flint. “Will the extractor cooldown decrease concurrently with the life batteries filling?”

“Yes, sir,” said Eastwood. “That means we’ll require 180 seconds on target, plus whatever time it takes Commander Larson to aim and fire.”

“Can we hold out for 180-seconds-plus-targeting?” asked Maddox.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “The longer we delay, the more warships the Entropy will bring into the Aranox system.”

The internal countdown he’d been keeping for the arrival of those enemy ships told Flint it was time to get the hell away from this nearby planet, before it was smashed into pieces like the last place which had offered shelter to the Gorgadar.

“Let’s get out of here – we’ll perform a single long-distance scan to gauge the resistance we’ll face,” said Flint.

He tapped a finger on the tactical and sent the Gorgadar into lightspeed for the briefest of moments. As soon as the warship re-entered local space, Flint pushed the control bars as far as they’d go. A surge of acceleration pressed him into his seat and the howling of the supercharged propulsion made the hairs on his neck stand up.

“Sensors coming online!” yelled Burner.

Flint had taken a gamble by choosing a destination that was less than a half-billion kilometres from the Aranox star and on the blind side from the Gorgadar’s original arrival place in this solar system. Hopefully, the enemy vessels would be searching elsewhere, giving his sensor team an opportunity to run their scans without the Gorgadar being detected. Flint knew he was riding his luck, but he wasn’t willing to throw his warship headlong into the star, without at least an idea of what kind of pressure the enemy would put him under.

“Tell me what’s out there, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

“The scans will take less time if you reduce velocity, sir.”

Reluctantly, Flint backed off the controls and the engine sound diminished. He reduced velocity to a hundred kilometres per second and allowed the Gorgadar to coast.

“The Balanor is currently on the far side of Aranox, sir,” said Garrett. “I’ve added its estimated position onto the tactical, based on last-observed data of its orbital path.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

Aranox was centre of the tactical display and the Balanor was represented as a blue dot, faded to indicate the vessel was currently out of direct sensor sight. Another thirty seconds and it would be visible once more.

“Enemy warships detected, sir,” said Burner.

“Numbers?”

“I’m still adding them up.”

A sprinkling of red dots appeared on the tactical, most of them clustered within two hundred million kilometres of Aranox. As Flint stared at the screen, that sprinkling turned steadily denser as Burner identified additional targets.

“This is not good,” said Larson.

“No.”

“And these are just the ones we can see.”

“Four hundred and twenty so far,” said Flint. He was sure the actual number would be many times higher – most likely into the thousands.

“Several of the enemy vessels are stationary, sir,” said Burner. “They’re also massive.”

“What is your conclusion, Lieutenant?”

“Weapons platforms, sir. Here’s one on the screen.”

The feed was overmagnified and with the shimmering outline which indicated it had been enhanced repeatedly. Even so, the details weren’t clear enough for Flint to determine anything beyond the basic cube shape of the platform.

“Eighty klicks across?” Flint said.

“Yes, sir. Whatever it is, I imagine it packs a punch.”

“We’ve been here too long,” said Flint. “We’re just giving the enemy more time to prepare.”

With so many enemy warships deployed, it was inevitable that soon one of them would detect the Gorgadar. And if they didn’t, Flint was sure others were at work calculating his vessel’s position based on the trail left after its previous lightspeed jump.

Another idea came to Flint and he wondered why he hadn’t arrived at this same realisation earlier. “We can hide behind the Balanor,” he said. “The closest of the Entropy’s known warships to Aranox is one-point-five million klicks, so they don’t have a view of the Balanor’s underside.”

“We’d have to stick real close, sir,” said Garrett. “If the enemy fleet has ringed the star, they’ll have tangent visibility of the Gorgadar.”

“If they’re looking that close,” said Flint.

“I hate to be the one to raise the problem,” said Burner. “Assuming we mode 3 onto the Balanor’s circuit path, we’ll arrive stationary. It’s going to take time to match velocity with our target – that’s time in which we’ll be vulnerable to detection.”

“If we drop straight into the chromosphere, the radiation will make us a lot harder to detect,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Burner. “The melting point of our hull isn’t much above five thousand Celsius and the temperature that close to Aranox is twice that. We’ll be relying on our energy shield.”

“That’s what it’s there for, Lieutenant.”

Flint’s eyes went to the tactical screen once more, where the enemy target count had climbed beyond a thousand. Given the volume of space his sensor team had yet to scan, it was looking as if the final total would be pushing five figures.

“I need someone to calculate an arrival point for our next SRT that’s far enough ahead of the Balanor that we’ll have time to accelerate and match pace before our target is half a circuit ahead of us,” said Flint.

“I have access to the acceleration data from the time we hit 150-kay, sir,” said Copeland. “The problem is, the acceleration was not linear, and the exponent changed multiple times.”

“Do your best, Lieutenant.”

“Give me a minute to put something together, sir.”

Flint was suddenly ready to go and this delay was unwanted. Still, he couldn’t justify an SRT into the star without advance planning. He watched the Balanor as it continued on its orbital path. Trying to predict how far he’d be required to lead the alien vessel on the coming mode 3 transit was an exercise in futility – this was something requiring cold, hard numbers, not instinct and guesswork.

Just when Flint was on the verge of demanding Copeland give him an answer, even if that meant its accuracy would suffer, she delivered her findings.

“I’ve added the data into the navigational computer, sir,” said Copeland. “I’ve had to make some assumptions.”

“Acknowledged,” said Flint. He smiled thinly. “Are we all clear on what we’re doing?”

“Yes, sir,” said Larson, the familiar gleam in her eye. “We’re going to waken us a sleeping giant and it’s going to turn these enemy ships into dust.”

Flint nodded, his hand reaching out for the tactical. A purple dot representing Copeland’s estimation had appeared, ahead of the Balanor and moving to maintain a constant distance. Flint touched this dot with his finger.

“That’s right, Commander,” he said. “We’re nearing the end, and I’m damned if I’m going to be on the losing side.”

There was no reason to delay any longer. Flint activated the SRT.

Chapter Twenty-Six

When the Gorgadar re-entered local space, Flint held the controls absolutely motionless. Despite the chill of the bridge air, he felt suddenly warm, as if the heat of Aranox had somehow penetrated the warship’s hull metals.

“Sensors up,” said Burner.

From this range, the redness of the star was gone. Instead, a searing brightness that was near white, illuminated the bridge. The feeds dimmed automatically and Flint caught hints of violent motion below his warship. Already the energy shield had activated, though it appeared as little more than a thin veil around the Gorgadar through which the light shone, hardly diminished.

“We’re fifteen hundred klicks above Aranox’s surface, sir,” said Garrett.

Flint oriented himself and then banked the Gorgadar, while pushing the engines to maximum. The velocity needle began its rapid passage from left to right on the gauge. In moments, the needle went past the highest indicated digits and the backend computer recalculated and updated the gauge. The needle continued its climb.

“Anything on the sensors?” asked Flint, his brow furrowed in concentration. The Gorgadar was skimming low across Aranox and dozens of warning notifications clamoured for his attention.

“The scan results are patchy, sir,” said Burner. “I’ve detected a few dozen enemy vessels, but it’s going to take time to repopulate the tactical.”

During that short exchange, the velocity gauge had climbed to eighty thousand kilometres per second and the howling of the Gorgadar’s engines was accompanied by the familiar inhalation sound which still made Flint’s flesh tingle whenever he heard it.

“Ninety thousand, a hundred thousand,” said Larson.

Flint glanced at the tactical again. The Balanor was a long way behind, but it was still travelling much faster and the distance between the two vessels was falling rapidly.

“The heat is building up, sir,” said Fredericks. “It’s pulling a lot more from our energy shield.”

“I can’t see any change on the reserve gauge, Lieutenant.”

“No, sir. We’re feeding more power into the shield generator modules to keep the reserves at maximum. Eventually, we’ll be unable to compensate without risking a hardware failure.”

Flint didn’t respond and gave his full focus to piloting the Gorgadar. The rate of velocity increase stuttered as the warship passed 120,000 kilometres per second, but then it found new life and surged upwards once more.

When the gauge reading hit 150,000, the shield reserves began falling. Flint heard Eastwood cursing and then the reserves climbed back to one hundred percent.

“Come on,” muttered Flint angrily. It seemed like every time he looked, a half-dozen extra warning lights had appeared on his console. So far, they were only advisories, but they were a stark reminder of the strains being placed upon the warship.

Without warning, the shield gauge dropped three percent. Then, it dropped again.

“Shit, what was that?” said Flint.

No sooner had he asked the question than he spotted an enemy warship way ahead and high above Aranox’s tempestuous surface. This vessel was shaped like an arrowhead and its hull was the deep red of absorbed heat. Incredibly, it was matching pace with the Gorgadar. A second, identical warship descended from high overhead and joined the first.

“We just took another hit, sir,” said Maddox. “I reckon those enemy vessels have accelerated gauss turrets.”

“Destroy them,” said Flint.

“Our missiles will burn up, sir,” said Maddox. “Activating hull repeaters.”

The Gorgadar’s high-rate gauss turrets spewed out the shortest of bursts, and the projectiles traced bright lines across the star. Flint suspected the slugs were melting almost at once, but the two enemy vessels dropped suddenly back and then were lost in the distance.

“They burned up,” said Becerra.

“I think those spaceships were equipped with short range boosters,” said Fredericks. “Enough to propel them to high velocity, but not enough for a sustained pursuit.”

“We’re at 180,000 kilometres per second,” said Larson.

“Fast, but not fast enough,” said Flint.

The inhalation noise of the propulsion was everything now, as if the Gorgadar’s bridge was deep within the cavernous chest of a god. Hearing that sound and feeling what it did to his body left Flint certain that the warship wasn’t going to run out of steam anytime soon.

Even as that thought was forming, the velocity gauge surged again and the needle climbed rapidly past 190,000 and headed for 200,000.

“The Balanor’s still going to overtake us,” said Maddox anxiously.

“Like hell it is,” said Flint.

Three more of the boosted arrowhead spaceships raced into sensor sight, each of them glowing white. Fast they may be, but these enemy vessels lacked the shields necessary to wage combat in this environment. They fired gauss slugs into the Gorgadar’s shield and then burned up in the fiery heat.

“Screw you!” said Maddox, raising a middle finger towards the bridge ceiling.

“Our shield is still taking impacts, sir,” said Larson.

Flint cursed his opponents. “The enemy have detected us, Commander. They’re firing at our anticipated position.”

“Another minute and we’ll be within a hundred thousand klicks of the Balanor, sir,” said Burner. “After that comes the fine tuning.”

“And maybe a degree of safety,” said Flint, knowing it was wishful thinking.

More of the boosted spaceships appeared – six in total and eight thousand kilometres directly overhead – and they fired their large-bore gauss guns, striking the Gorgadar’s shield several times. This time, Flint saw the bright, clear tracers left by the passage of the projectiles.

“Those slugs are too big to burn up, even at this velocity,” he said. “Damnit.”

As he spoke, all six of the enemy craft ignited into white-hot flames, and they broke apart simultaneously, leaving smeared trails of smoke that stretched towards the faraway horizon. Watching it gave Flint little satisfaction.

“We’re at 210,000 kilometres per second,” said Larson.

The distance between the Gorgadar and the Balanor was reducing at a much lower rate now – almost at a crawl to Flint’s agitated mind. He glanced at the rear sensor feed, half expecting to see a vast shape looming. What he saw was the intensity of nature stretching away seemingly forever, with spouts of white and yellow bursting from the surface of Aranox, as the star gave up these tiny fractions of its existence to the emptiness of space.

A flash of darkness erupted around the Gorgadar, momentarily dimming the forward feeds. Flint’s instincts commanded him to bank starboard to disrupt the aim of his opponents, but given the warship’s enormous velocity, he didn’t dare risk veering too far off course, in case the Balanor overshot and left him having to catch up.

“Increasing the recharge rate of the energy shield,” said Eastwood. “I’ve taken it about as high as I’m willing to go, sir.”

“And it’s still dropping,” said Flint.

He checked the velocity gauge, which was creeping past 215,000 kilometres per second. The rate of increase had fallen so much that he was sure the supercharged exium was close to its limits.

“The Balanor is going to pass us,” said Garrett.

Another corrosive blast struck the Gorgadar’s shield and two others detonated ahead. Flint bared his teeth and held the warship on course. From the corner of his eye, he could see a speck on the rear feed, far behind but closing fast.

“There’s our target,” he said. “Our velocity is at 218,000.”

Flint tried to judge whether the Balanor would pass right by, or if the Gorgadar would be able to match velocity in time. The margins were too tight for him to call. Flint’s heart thudded in his chest and his breathing came fast.

“The Balanor is travelling at 220,543 kilometres per second, sir – faster than we thought,” said Becerra.

Cursing inwardly, Flint bit down on a sharp response. He knew the difficulties in calculating velocity across vast distances, especially when the sensors were looking into the light of a star.

“We’ll handle it,” said Flint.

Two more dark energy blasts struck the Gorgadar’s shield in rapid succession, reducing the reserve gauge below fifty percent. The shield was visibly dimming now and the heat it was soaking was enough to overcome its increased recharge rate.

“This is going to be close,” said Flint.

The Entropy’s warships hadn’t given up. Nine of the booster warships streaked into view, their hulls burning like meteorites. Gauss slugs thundered into the Gorgadar’s shield and then the attacking vessels broke into pieces.

“How is destroying us going to help the Entropy recover our exium modules?” asked Garrett angrily.

“Exium is no more than the cherry on a cake,” said Fredericks. “The Balanor is the prize.”

“Oh shit!” said Burner. “Sir, the topside feeds!”

Flint had seen already. An enemy warship thirty-five-thousand metres in length, and broad across the beam, switched off its cloaking tech and emerged into sight, three hundred kilometres directly overhead, its shield glowing bright. A second joined it a moment later.

“Fire the decay pulse!” shouted Flint.

“Decay pulse fired!” said Larson.

The weapon’s discharge sent a ripple across space and it struck the two opposing warships. Their shields dimmed rapidly and then disappeared altogether. Not only that, the decay pulse tore another three identical warships – tracking the Gorgadar from a higher altitude - out of stealth and depleted their shields. Immediately, all five of the enemy vessels began to heat up, their noses turning white and the rest of their hulls bright orange. Flames of molten alloy trailed, but these opposing warships were too massive to break apart immediately.

“Their shields absorbed the decay pulse,” said Larson. “How the hell—"

The decay pulse usually ignored defensive shields, but these aliens had evidently come up with tech that was able to soak much of the weapon’s energy. It was a setback that Flint and his crew didn’t need.

A particle beam, red like those of the Kilvar, plunged into the Gorgadar’s shield. The other enemy vessels fired too and the reserve gauge dropped to thirty percent.

“Burn up you assholes!” shouted Flint. “Damnit, fire our missiles!”

“Topside clusters one through thirty: fired,” said Maddox.

As Maddox had already predicted, the Gorgadar’s missiles hardly made it out of their launchers before the intense heat broke them apart. Glittering sparks of their propulsions trailed across the star, before they burned out and vanished.

“How about a nose-tail swap to hit one of those spaceships with the particle beam, sir?” asked Larson.

“I’m not even tempted, Commander.”

Although the enemy warships were alight, their own particle beam generators continued to function and lines of red stabbed into the Gorgadar’s shield.

“Velocity at 220,200,” said Flint.

“The enemy ships are starting to drop back, sir,” said Burner.

“We’ll be in their firing range for a long time yet, Lieutenant.”

Flint’s eyes went to the rear feed and there was the Balanor – vast, terrible and untroubled by the might of Aranox, and seemingly oblivious to the conflict raging.

The intensity of inbound fire increased. Detonation after detonation chewed at the Gorgadar’s shield and red particle beams knifed through the darkness of the blasts. Bit by bit, the reserve gauge fell and Flint cursed his opponents.

“Our velocity is at 22,500, sir,” said Larson.

“Two of those attacking spaceships broke up, sir,” said Burner. “And there goes a third.”

With so much happening, it took every ounce of Flint’s mental strength and all of his experience to stay on top of the situation. The controls vibrated in his hands and the propulsion was one long intake, like the breath of the universe itself. Flint’s gaze darted from place to place, hardly daring to blink, even though his eyes were stinging with sweat from his own brow.

The Balanor was a thousand kilometres behind and its existing course would take it directly between the Gorgadar and the attacking enemy ships. Flint wanted to draw back on the controls so that he might bring his warship into cover a fraction sooner, but he didn’t dare lose the velocity he’d gained.

Movement on the sensors drew his attention to one of the two remaining attacking enemy vessels. Its hull was burning to match Aranox itself and Flint was sure it was on the verge of breaking up. Whatever alien scumbag was piloting the spaceship had different ideas. The warship dropped rapidly lower and Flint saw at once that its pilot was hoping to force a collision.

One last throw of the dice, thought Flint bitterly.

Banking or slowing would screw up the careful preparations required to match velocity with the approaching Balanor and Flint found himself gripped by a fleeting hesitation. The knowledge that this was his one chance and getting it wrong would have repercussions far beyond this engagement at Aranox, was a crushing weight.

Help came unexpectedly and Flint didn’t immediately understand the source. The incoming enemy spaceship’s nose section exploded into dust – particles which burned briefly white and then vanished like they’d never been. Less than a second later, the enemy warship’s midsection was also turned into dust, and what remained of the spaceship began to spin out of control, its commanding officer’s hopes of a collision dashed.

“The Balanor, sir!” shouted Burner.

On the Gorgadar’s starboard flank, a cliff of grey was steadily moving past, hardly more than a hundred kilometres distant. A glance at the velocity gauge told Flint that his warship was almost matched with the Balanor. The slightest of adjustments was enough and Flint piloted the Gorgadar behind the alien vessel’s nose.

That was the moment he noticed the pain in his locked fingers and the tightness in every muscle of his body.

“We did it!” said Larson.

The mission wasn’t nearly over, but Flint was glad for this respite, however short it might be. He slowed the Gorgadar fractionally until it was adjacent to the Balanor’s midsection, and then matched velocity. While Flint dearly wished to activate the autopilot for a few moments in order that he might extend his fingers and roll his shoulders, he knew he could do no such thing.

“Ten percent left on our shield,” said Fredericks. “That was close run.”

On Flint’s monitoring panel, the reserve gauge reading was flashing red, but the digits were increasing. That, at least, was a relief, since it meant one of the propulsion team had figured out a way to eke enough from the energy shield hardware that it was still able to recharge, even with the Gorgadar travelling at this high velocity through the heat of Aranox.

“Let’s get on with business,” he said.

At that exact moment, the turbulent movement of the star’s hot surface stopped utterly, as if it had been frozen in place. Flint’s brain caught up at once.

“Something just put Aranox in stasis!” he said.

Neither the Gorgadar nor the Balanor were affected and the temperature warnings on Flint’s console returned to green, while the energy shield gauge climbed faster. This was no reassurance – with Aranox in stasis, there was nothing stopping the enemy fleet from positioning themselves at a low enough altitude to bombard the Gorgadar, regardless of its velocity.

An already tough situation was about to become a whole lot tougher. Holding the control bars, and with his knuckles aching, Flint readied himself for an engagement he had no hope of winning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tremendous news came unexpectedly.

“Sir! I have Fleet Admiral Recker on the comms!” yelled Burner. “The Ancidium is here in the Aranox system, along with the Axindar, the Ixidar and a whole bunch of Lavorix battleships. We’ve joined the local battle network.”

“Well, damn,” said Flint. “Admiral Recker must have gone back to Indigar and freed our warships from stasis.”

“And now our fleet is here,” said Larson.

The Gorgadar’s tactical populated with a mixture of green and red dots as the warship’s battle computer was fed positional data from the newly arrived members of the alliance fleet.

Despite the numbers of Lavorix battleships in the Ancidium’s hold, there weren’t enough trained officers to pilot them all, and the disparity in numbers between the two fleets was clear. Even so, the Axindar and the Ixidar would surely give the warships in the opposing fleet a headache of monumental proportions.

“I’ve made the Fleet Admiral aware of our situation, sir,” said Burner. “The Ancidium is already under pressure and its life batteries are almost empty. Its hull defences won’t last long.”

“And there’s nothing in our fleet that can hit 220,000 kilometres per second,” said Flint. “That means we’re on our own.”

“Not necessarily on our own, sir,” said Larson. “It just means supporting us is going to be whole lot harder.”

“Real hard,” said Flint. Even so, this was nothing other than a positive development and he was galvanised into action. “Commander Larson, we’re going to hit the Balanor with our focused extractor.”

“Sir, I’m waiting for an update on the tactical that’ll show me the target points.”

“I’m on it,” said Garrett. “I’m having to re-scan the Balanor’s hull in order to determine its orientation relative to the Gorgadar.”

Having placed Aranox in stasis, the Entropy’s fleet didn’t wait for an invitation to attack. Dozens of warships exited lightspeed ahead of the approaching Gorgadar. Not one of their commanding officers compensated adequately for sensor blindness, and they soon were left far behind without firing a single shot.

“We won’t be so lucky next time,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Maddox, be ready on the missiles.”

“Yes, sir.”

The shield gauge was climbing fast and it hit twenty percent. It was a small reassurance, though Flint expected his warship’s defences to be tested in the very near future.

“Begin the rotation, sir,” urged Larson. “You can correct as necessary when the tactical is updated.”

“Good idea, Commander.”

Like the Gorgadar’s particle beam, the focused extractor fired straight and with hardly any targeting adjustment. Flint was honest enough to admit to himself that he’d been dreading the coming manoeuvre and he inhaled deeply before he started rotating the warship. Luckily, he didn’t have to deal with atmospheric friction slowing his vessel and that saved Flint from having to alter the output across the Gorgadar’s many different engine modules.

Hardly had he begun turning the warship than Flint noticed the energy shield drop by three percent. The Gorgadar flashed by dozens of enemy warships which had exited lightspeed far enough ahead that they were able to land their gauss shots successfully. It was a distraction Flint didn’t need and he cursed under his breath.

“A few seconds and the hull scans will be done,” said Garrett.

With the utmost care, Flint rotated the Gorgadar until its nose was aimed at the Balanor’s flank, all while making sure the two vessels were matched in velocity.

“Cloaked ships!” said Burner.

Warships, of the same type as Flint had seen recently, deactivated their cloaking tech. He counted three in total, each thirty-five-thousand metres long.

Flint’s heart fell at the sight. He guessed the Entropy spawn responsible for these constructions were technologically more advanced than most others, and that was what allowed them to maintain the same velocity as the Gorgadar and Balanor.

“We need help,” said Flint. “Or the game is up.”

“Admiral Recker is aware, sir,” said Burner. “He’s working on something.”

“It’ll need to come soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Missiles targeted,” said Maddox. “Rear clusters one to thirty: fired. Topside clusters one to thirty: fired.”

The launched missiles inherited the Gorgadar’s velocity and with the heat of Aranox nullified, they raced towards their targets without burning up. Concentrated gauss fire raked out from hundreds of emplacements on the enemy hulls, smashing many of the warheads into pieces. Other missiles made it through the hail and all of them detonated against the shield of the same enemy warship.

“Keep up the pressure, Lieutenant,” said Flint. He could see at a glance that the enemy shields were tapping into deep wells and they were going to take a lot of firepower to bring down. “What’s the timer on the decay pulse, Commander Larson?” he asked.

“It’s still offline, sir. The monitoring software doesn’t give an estimate for when it’ll become available.” Larson swore with the same frustration Flint was feeling. “Damn Lavorix crap!”

“Waiting on missile reload,” said Maddox.

The enemy ships began firing their particle beams, each hit taking a fraction away from the Gorgadar’s shield reserves. Flint couldn’t risk another rotation to bring his own vessel’s superior beam weapon onto target.

Dark energy bloomed on the shield of one enemy vessel, causing its shield to dim as it absorbed the blast. A second disintegration burst came straight after and the shield deepened again. Flint knew at once the source of those attacks.

“Sir, the Ixidar and the Axindar are targeting those enemy warships,” said Burner. “The destroyer cannons have good range, but Admiral Aston will have to SRT ahead in a few seconds. Captain Inzol on the Axindar is following the same tactic.”

“The Ixidar and Axindar have three SRT modules, each with a five-minute cooldown,” said Flint. “That method is unsustainable.” He cursed, wishing more options were available.

One option presented itself even as the thought was current in his mind.

“The decay pulse is available, sir!” said Larson. “That’ll give our opponents something to think about.”

Flint nodded his agreement. “Damn right – fire when ready, Commander.”

“Decay pulse, fired!”

For a second time, the pride of this alien fleet was ravaged by a weapon designed by another of the Entropy’s species. The decay pulse depleted the enemy shields in a split second, leaving the warships vulnerable.

Admiral Aston and Captain Inzol were quick to capitalise. A moment after the decay pulse discharge, one of the enemy warships was hit by a destroyer cannon shot, which obliterated the vessel’s stern. A second disintegration shot struck almost simultaneously and a nine-thousand-metre hole appeared in the same vessel’s flank. The damage was terminal, Flint had no doubts, but that left two opponents to deal with and possibly others still concealed by the shrouds of their technology.

The other members of the Entropy’s fleet hadn’t forgotten about the Gorgadar either – in groups large and small they jumped ahead at lightspeed and unleashed their weapons. Although the method was inefficient, the enemy was getting better at the implementation. Each shot they landed reduced the likelihood of the Gorgadar holding together long enough to complete the mission.

“The target overlay is on the tactical, sir,” said Garrett.

“I see it, Lieutenant,” said Flint.

The Balanor’s control AI modules were placed in a square about the warship’s midsection, with two thousand kilometres between each. Picking the one which required the least repositioning of the Gorgadar, Flint adjusted the warship’s nose so that it was pointing on target.

“Any time you’re ready, Commander.”

“Focused extractor: fired,” said Larson.

The beam was invisible, so Flint watched his control panel to gauge the effect. In less than three seconds, the Gorgadar’s life batteries drained from one hundred percent to zero, and, as it was happening, a wave of energy – recoil was the first word that jumped into Flint’s head – swept through the bridge. He grunted at the shock of it, but recovered quickly.

“No deviation in the Balanor’s heading,” said Becerra. “Looks like that one shot wasn’t enough.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” said Flint. He didn’t even feel bitter about it. “Recharge those batteries, Lieutenant Eastwood.”

As Flint gave the command, his eyes fell on the Gorgadar’s output gauges which were already uncomfortably high. He drew his gaze elsewhere, not wishing for his own doubts to become a new enemy in this conflict.

During those few seconds targeting the focused extractor, the missile reload completed. Maddox was ready and waiting.

“Missiles targeted,” she said. “Rear clusters one to thirty: fired. Topside clusters one to thirty: fired. None of the other clusters will target given our current orientation.”

“Acknowledged,” said Flint.

The Gorgadar’s missiles raced into another torrent of countermeasures, but with only two of the enemy vessels remaining, more of the warheads made it to their target. The combined light from nearly four hundred detonations was enough to make Flint narrow his eyes. Armour plating was ripped free and fell behind in a gratifying display of destruction.

“That’s got those bastards,” said Maddox.

Flint wasn’t so sure, but his mind was soon changed when the burning enemy vessel was hit by the blast from a destroyer cannon. Having a nine-kilometre sphere of its innards turned into powder was too much for the spaceship to resist and its hull split in two.

Bad news always seemed to follow the good.

“The life batteries aren’t filling as quickly as last time, sir,” said Fredericks. “We might be approaching the limit of what the supercharged exium can do.”

“We just fired the decay pulse, Lieutenant,” said Flint. “I’d say those exium modules have plenty left to give.”

Fredericks didn’t argue. “I’ll do what I can to speed things up, sir.”

“Sir, the Ancidium is at risk of being overwhelmed,” said Burner. “Without its hull immunity, it’s vulnerable like every other warship.”

“I don’t know what to suggest, Lieutenant.”

“Admiral Recker isn’t looking for advice, sir. I think he’d prefer it if we got our asses in gear.”

“We’re doing the best we can, damnit.”

The third of the huge enemy spaceships was hit nose and midsection by destroyer cannons. It didn’t break apart, even though its hull was grotesquely deformed by the two enormous holes put into it by the Ixidar and the Axindar. Maddox turned the Gorgadar’s gauss repeaters onto the opposing vessel and high-velocity slugs pounded into its weakened hull.

For a brief, merciful moment, Flint found himself in a place of calm. He scanned his control panel. The life batteries were filling at a much higher rate than earlier, suggesting that Fredericks had discovered a way to greatly increase the flow.

Then, Flint’s eyes went to the tactical. The green dots of the alliance ships were tiny in number when compared to the opposition fleet. In the centre of everything, the Ancidium was surrounded by seemingly hundreds of hostile warships and Flint pictured the Lavorix vessel’s immense array of hull turrets hurling countless gauss projectiles into the opposing fleet.

But it won’t be enough.

The sensors went dark for a split second and then the feeds resumed.

“Our energy shield took another hit, sir,” said Eastwood. “From something big.”

“Life batteries at eighty percent and climbing,” said Fredericks.

Once again, the sensors went dark and the shield gauge dropped. Objects flashed by on the rear and underside feeds and the gauge fell again, this time in several smaller, rapid steps.

A third of the energy bursts hit the Gorgadar and the shield gauge fell below twenty percent.

“What’s hitting us and from where?” growled Flint.

“I’m analysing the battle network data, sir,” said Becerra. “Crap, it’s not one thing – it’s at least four. I’ve highlighted them on your feed.”

The enemy were getting their act together. They’d positioned orbital platforms around Aranox such that one or more always had line of sight on the Gorgadar along a tangent. Without changing course, Flint had no way to avoid them, and even then, the enemy platforms could likely reposition in moments by means of an SRT. As if to prove his helplessness, one of those stations took yet another shot at the Gorgadar. Flint gritted his teeth.

“We’ve hit one hundred percent on the life batteries, sir,” said Fredericks. “There’s not much I can do to fix what’s happening to the shield.”

Flint had already prepared and the Gorgadar’s nose was pointing directly at the location of the second of the Balanor’s AI controllers.

“Fire when ready, Commander,” he said.

“Focused extractor targeted and fired, sir.”

The second shot generated the same recoil as the first and this time Flint was braced for it. He shook his head once and ignored the fast-receding pain.

“The Balanor has not deviated in its heading, sir,” said Becerra.

“Recharge those damn batteries,” said Flint.

“Our shield took another hit, sir,” said Eastwood.

“Admiral Aston is targeting those platforms, sir,” said Burner. “They’re tough and shielded.”

“I don’t know if we’re going to survive long enough to get off two more shots,” said Larson.

A check of the shield gauge was all the convincing Flint needed.

“I’ll reposition the Gorgadar on the opposite flank of the Balanor,” he said. “Maybe that’ll buy us some time.”

Before he could put this doomed plan in motion, Flint had an idea. It was one of those ideas that – if it came off – might well turn everything around and pull victory from out of the steadily closing jaws of defeat.

“Lieutenant Burner,” he said. “Get Admiral Recker on the comms.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Captain Flint, please tell me you have some positive news,” said Recker. His voice was utterly calm and that was the big giveaway - he was under the most enormous pressure.

“The Gorgadar’s shield won’t last long enough for us to waken the Balanor, sir. I’ve thought of a way.”

“Tell me.”

“I propose to abandon the Balanor for the moment, sir. I’ll bring the Gorgadar into Bay Zero. Once there, we’ll refill the Ancidium’s life batteries.”

“What will this accomplish?” asked Recker, the first signs of impatience creeping into his voice. “The Balanor is our primary target – I am prepared to lose the Ancidium.”

“I have a plan involving stasis, sir.”

Recker didn’t ask for any more explanation.

“Whatever it is, we’ll do it,” he said. “Be warned – the Ancidium’s hull defences are down and the first enemy warships have entered our bays by SRT.”

“If I run into any, it’ll be a pleasure to show them the error of their ways, sir.”

“Reduce velocity, Captain Flint. I’m on my way.”

The comms channel went dead.

With confirmation given, Flint hauled back on the Gorgadar’s controls. A propulsion howl joined the sound of inhalation, the velocity gauge tumbled, the controls shuddered in his hands, and the Balanor vanished into the distance.

“The Ancidium has executed an SRT, sir,” said Burner. “It’s right in our path.”

Recker had an eye for a fine margin, but Flint wondered if this time the admiral had miscalculated. A collision wasn’t going to happen, since Flint could take evasive action, but he didn’t want to overshoot the Ancidium.

“Come on, come on,” he muttered.

The Ancidium appeared as a faraway speck on the forward feeds – a speck which grew rapidly into a recognizable shape. Flint held steady and didn’t alter course. It appeared as if the reduction in the Gorgadar’s velocity made it an easier target for the enemy, and a series of energy blasts struck its shield.

“Down to seven percent,” said Fredericks.

Fifteen or more of the Entropy’s warships exited lightspeed nearby. Maddox launched missiles with lightning reactions and their warheads detonated amongst the new arrivals.

Streaks of white – thousands upon thousands of them – stabbed outwards from the distant Ancidium. The gauss tracers were joined by more than a hundred different particle beams, which plunged into the enemy armour. Then came the missiles, in such numbers that Flint could only shake his head in horrified wonder at this reminder of the Ancidium’s offensive capabilities.

For the enemy, the results were catastrophic. Their warships were blown into pieces and debris was hurled all around. Yet more of the Entropy’s spawn exited lightspeed and the Ancidium’s firepower tore into them.

The Ancidium loomed large, and Flint could see countless details. Multi-barrelled repeaters spun in a blur, missiles were ejected from their clusters, leaving orange trails as their propulsions ignited, while particle beams flashed outwards from their generator domes.

The Ancidium had not escaped harm. Thousands of missiles had evaded its countermeasures, leaving a patchwork of craters upon its hull. In many places, the warship’s armour glowed hues of orange and red from where the enemy particle beams had struck. Elsewhere, vast holes had been created by energy blasts and disintegration cannons.

“It’s a mess,” said Fredericks. “But it’s not about to fall apart yet.”

Flint couldn’t let himself be distracted. The entrance to Bay 7 was a dark square upon the grey, and the opening seemed far smaller than he remembered. His mind screamed at him to slow down further – to give himself the opportunity to line the Gorgadar up perfectly with the entrance tunnel. An energy weapon hit the warship’s shield as a reminder Flint didn’t need that he couldn’t afford the luxury of a safe approach.

“One more shot and our shield will collapse,” said Fredericks.

The Ancidium was within a hundred kilometres now and its hull weapons fired nonstop. Flint didn’t dare look at the rear feeds, even for a moment, though he knew they’d be filled with enemy warships.

“This is going to be tight,” said Garrett.

“Hell no,” said Larson. “Straight down the middle.”

Still travelling fast, the Gorgadar entered the Bay 7 opening, missing the left-hand wall by less than five hundred metres. Flint reduced velocity and the warship entered the bay. The warships which had been parked here before were now gone.

“The entrance door is closing, sir,” said Becerra.

“That’s not going to keep the enemy out,” said Flint, realising he hadn’t asked Recker which bays the Entropy’s warships had entered. Certainly, they weren’t here.

He saw the linking tunnel to Bay Zero below and piloted the Gorgadar towards it. Although his warship was no longer under attack, Flint didn’t feel a lessening of the pressure. The Ancidium would be the focus of the enemy attacks and with its batteries empty, the Lavorix ship would eventually succumb.

“You haven’t told us what you’re planning, sir,” said Larson. “Other than it involves stasis.”

“When I get a moment, Commander.”

The first thing which caught Flint’s eye was the Vorgeran, all eighty thousand metres of it, with its unmistakeable resemblance to the Gorgadar. Large sections of the vessel’s armour plating were missing, as was much of the topside stern. Some of the missing pieces had been assembled and were arrayed across the bay floor, awaiting the installation of other components.

Tearing his eyes away, Flint located the five-thousand-metre recharge interface posts for the Ancidium’s life batteries and he guided his warship towards them.

“Our midsection topside needs to be within ten klicks of those posts, sir,” said Eastwood. “And then I can begin the transfer.”

The positioning was easy enough and, when he was done, Flint held the Gorgadar steady.

“Begin the transfer.”

“Transfer started,” said Eastwood.

The life battery gauge on Flint’s control panel began to fall steadily. Nothing else – no sound, no vibration, no debilitating energy wave – accompanied the transfer process.

“Inform Admiral Recker that he can turn on the hull defences,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Becerra. “The Fleet Admiral confirms the hull defences are active.”

“Now, sir,” said Larson in tones that would brook no refusal. “The plan.”

“We’re going to stay inside the Ancidium,” Flint began. “Admiral Recker will position his warship alongside the Balanor’s orbital track and when the target vessel passes by, we’ll put it into a stasis field that’s strong enough to slow it down. That’ll give us plenty of time to fire the extractor.”

Larson had an observation. “The extractor beam won’t make it through the stasis. And it takes three seconds to channel all the energy from the life batteries.”

“That’s why we’ll have to enlarge the inner negation field – the one we’ll create to keep the Ancidium and the Gorgadar out of stasis - at just the right moment, so that the target control AI module is in normal time, while the Balanor itself is still slowed by the larger stasis field.”

“And when we’ve recharged that third control module, we wait for the Balanor to complete another circuit of Aranox,” said Larson.

Flint smiled. “While the Ancidium, with its hull immunity activated, soaks all the crap the Entropy’s fleet can throw its way.”

“Then, when the Balanor comes within range again, we fire the extractor into the last AI module. With the vessel hauled out of dormancy, we all ride off into the sunset to collect our medals.”

“That’s exactly how I’d pictured it, Commander.”

“We won’t be able to fire the extractor through the Ancidium’s bay walls, sir,” said Fredericks. “Not while its hull defences are active.”

“Admiral Recker will open the Bay 7 door and I’ll hold the Gorgadar in the linking tunnel,” said Flint. “That way we can fire at the Balanor.”

“The hull opening will allow the Entropy’s ships to lightspeed inside the Ancidium,” said Fredericks.

“The particle beam hole Admiral Aston put through this warship’s hull all those years ago will be enough for that – with or without these bay doors being open. That’s why we have to get this done quickly, Lieutenant.”

“Our life batteries are almost at zero, sir,” said Eastwood. “That means the Ancidium’s should be almost full.”

“And then we can recharge our own batteries in preparation for another shot at the Balanor,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Now that we’re not maintaining a stupidly high velocity, our supercharged exium should fill those life batteries a lot quicker than last time.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Flint. “Lieutenant Burner – obtain a link to the Ancidium’s external sensor arrays. I’d like to see what’s happening out there.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll add a selection of the feeds to our bulkhead screen.”

Outside was carnage. The Ancidium was accelerating across the stasis-locked surface of Aranox, with seemingly every one of its available weapons systems active and firing. It was an awe-inspiring sight, though likely not so much for the spawn of the Entropy, whose warships were being blown to pieces in great numbers.

Even worse for the enemy, the Ixidar and the Axindar had taken up positions off the Ancidium’s portside and starboard sides respectively. Those two warships were rotating about all three axes, their energy shields bright with plasma detonations and their destroyer cannons jumping with recoil every few seconds.

“Damn,” said Larson.

“Feeling envious, Commander?”

“Just like you, sir.”

“Admiral Recker is on the comms, sir,” said Burner. “We’re to return to the Bay 7 entrance and prepare for the return of the Balanor. The position of the target vessel will be fed though to us over the battle network.”

“I see the Balanor,” said Flint, checking the tactical screen.

That wasn’t all he saw. Hundreds of red dots were in close proximity to the Ancidium, with many hundreds farther out and making no obvious effort to attack.

“Looks like we lost all the Lavorix battleships,” said Larson.

“Shit, you’re right,” said Flint. “Maybe a few of them were able to withdraw into lightspeed.”

“Maybe.”

Flint tried and failed to convince himself the loss of those personnel was just another few anonymous deaths to add to the pile. He swore bitterly. Soon, this would be over and then the alliance would never have to deal with this crap again.

“Are we under threat from the enemy ships within the Ancidium?” Flint asked, suddenly remembering.

“I’ll find out,” said Burner. He was quiet for a moment. “Negative, sir – the Lavorix ships we didn’t manage to crew have been set to auto-defend. The enemy ships have been neutralised.”

“Hopefully those Lavorix battleships will keep any new arrivals off our backs,” said Flint.

Piloting the Gorgadar across an empty bay was easy work and he kept one eye on the sensors. The battle was raging undiminished and Flint wondered how long the Ancidium could maintain its immunity under such conditions.

If necessary, we’ll top up its life batteries again.

Flint hoped it would be as easy as that, but nothing ever was. He brought the Gorgadar once more into Bay 7 and towards the exit passage.

On the tactical, the Balanor continued its endless journey around Aranox.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“The Ancidium is now stationary, and adjacent to the Balanor’s orbital track, sir,” said Becerra. “The target vessel will pass our position in forty-five seconds.”

“Is everyone clear on what we’re doing?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir,” said Larson. Unexpectedly, she grinned. “The life batteries are full and the extractor is ready.”

“Third shot out of four coming,” said Flint.

“I won’t need to run another hull scan of the Balanor,” said Garrett. “The position of the target modules is still on the tactical model.”

“I see it, Lieutenant,” said Larson. “I know exactly where to aim.”

The fruitless bombardment of the Ancidium continued and the Entropy’s spawn lost many of their warships. With its nose aimed into the space outside, the Gorgadar’s forward sensors obtained a detailed view of the enemy vessels as they banked and turned, firing missiles and particle beams at the Ancidium.

So far, not one had noticed the Gorgadar within the Bay 7 exit tunnel. Either that, or the enemy were being destroyed before they could attack. Not that Flint was excessively concerned for his own vessel – since its energy shield had fully recharged - but he didn’t want a bunch of enemy warships flying past at lightspeed and into the bay behind him. That would be too much of a distraction.

Had the enemy numbers been finite, this was a battle of attrition they might have eventually lost, but more arrived from lightspeed every few seconds. Even if Flint could recharge the Ancidium’s batteries again and again, he suspected that sooner or later, an opponent was going to arrive that could challenge the Lavorix capital ship. This mission had to be accomplished before that happened.

“Twenty seconds,” said Becerra.

“The Ixidar is taking a lot of fire,” said Larson.

“Admiral Aston knows what she’s doing,” said Flint. He didn’t know why he felt obliged to say it, since Larson knew that better than he did. “She’ll take off into mode 3 when she has to.”

“Ten seconds.”

“Ready,” said Flint. He counted down in his head. “Activate the stasis.”

“Stasis activated,” said Fredericks.

The output needles on Flint’s console jumped from left to right and stayed there. Then, as if out of nowhere, the sheer wall of the Balanor’s portside flank appeared outside the bay opening, travelling slowly but with the inexorability of a glacier.

“That third module is two thousand klicks away,” said Flint, reading the data from his weapons panel.

On that same screen, the projected path of a focused extractor discharge showed as a line overlayed on top of the moving Balanor. The control AI module was high above where the extractor would hit.

“Adjusting position,” said Flint, bringing the Gorgadar’s nose up so that the extractor overlay was level with the target.

“The Balanor’s velocity is increasing, sir,” said Eastwood in disbelief. “Even though it’s dormant, it’s resisting our efforts to lock it down.”

“The Balanor and the Endurus are several orders of magnitude beyond anything else we’ve encountered before,” said Flint, watching closely. The target vessel was definitely passing at an increased rate, but nothing that had him worried about the coming extractor shot. “I don’t think anything about those spaceships is going to surprise me.”

“Any second,” Larson muttered.

“Extend the negation field, Lieutenant Fredericks,” said Flint.

“Done. The target module is now out of stasis.”

The extractor and the target lined up on the tactical.

“Focused extractor: fired!” said Larson.

With the Balanor still travelling, Flint was required to alter the position of the Gorgadar’s nose in order to track the target module for the three seconds it took to empty the life batteries. The recoil hit, but Flint hardly felt it.

“Recharge those batteries,” he said.

Briefly, he wondered if the recharge would be fast enough that Larson could get off the fourth and final shot while the Balanor was still locked in the same stasis. Given how rapidly the alien vessel was forging its way through the zero-time, it was immediately clear that wasn’t happening.

“And cancel the stasis,” Flint added. “Let the Balanor head off on its next circuit.”

“We could free the Balanor from zero-time and then recreate the stasis to keep the Ancidium safe from the enemy fleet,” said Maddox.

“We could do that, Lieutenant,” said Fredericks. “But while the Ancidium is holding its own, and considering how much energy we have to expend to slow the Balanor, I’d suggest we don’t push our exium modules too hard – if they fail, we’re going to lose this fight.”

“There’s no change to the plan,” Flint confirmed.

“The stasis is cancelled,” said Fredericks.

As if it had never been, the Balanor vanished from the bay opening, having returned to its previous velocity. The inbound and outbound weapons fire – held in stasis until this moment – resumed with the same intensity as before. Flames erupted outside the bay opening and faraway explosions spoke of the enemy’s death.

“Five minutes and forty seconds until the Balanor returns,” said Garrett. “Then it’ll be decided, one way or another.”

“At the current rate of recharge, the Gorgadar’s life batteries will be refilled in just under one minute, sir,” said Eastwood. “We’ll be ready in good time.”

“What’s the status of the Ancidium’s defences?” asked Flint.

“They’re at eighty-five percent, sir,” said Burner.

As Flint stared at the timer counting down the return of the Balanor, he was struck by the notion that all of a sudden everything was going a little too much according to plan. He could have cursed himself for that treacherous thought, for no sooner had it formed in his mind than Admiral Recker came onto the bridge open channel.

“A warship similar in mass to the Ancidium has exited lightspeed ten million klicks from Aranox,” said Recker. “So far it hasn’t moved from its arrival place, but we detected a vessel exiting one of its bays.”

Flint didn’t have a chance to ask for details. A shout from behind told him his fears had been realised.

“Sir! An enemy warship exited lightspeed in Bay 7!” said Garrett.

The vessel was midway across the bay, front-first to the Gorgadar, and framed perfectly in the opening. Flint saw the twin circular holes in its nose, which were aimed directly at his warship. On its topsides was a single massive gauss gun with a four-hundred-metre bore. This was also pointing directly at the Gorgadar.

Shit.

Now, the linking tunnel was more of a prison than a place of shelter, and it limited Flint’s ability to take evasive action in the short time during which the enemy spaceship was sensor blind.

Heading outside into the conflict was an option, but Flint wasn’t sure he could pilot the Gorgadar out of sight quickly enough to avoid the coming particle beam shot. Instead, he requested maximum from the propulsion and the spaceship accelerated stern-first along the linking tunnel towards the bay.

“Ready for impact,” said Flint.

A split-second before the collision, two jets of searing red energy emerged from the forward housings on the enemy vessel. They stabbed clean through the Gorgadar’s energy shield, entered its stern, and exited through its underside plating eight thousand metres from the nose. Dozens of red warning lights appeared on Flint’s panel and the bridge alarm sounded a dull blare.

The particle beam cut out and the Gorgadar’s energy shield struck the enemy vessel’s own shield with tremendous force. Cushioned by the life support systems, Flint hardly felt the impact and he tried desperately to move his warship out of the enemy particle beam’s firing line, while at the same time attempting to line up the Gorgadar’s main armament for a return shot. The enemy commanding officer was having none of it and rotated his warship in such a way that made it tough for Flint to gain the positional upper hand.

“They didn’t fire that topside gauss cannon, sir,” said Maddox. “Must have thought the particle beam would be enough.”

“I can’t get our own particle beam or the extractor on target, sir,” said Larson.

“We’re too close for missile fire,” said Maddox. “Our warheads won’t arm. I’ve set the hull repeaters to automatic.”

“Did we lose any of our exium modules?” asked Flint, shifting the controls in jerky, irregular movements that produced a grating resonance of sound and vibration.

“No, sir,” said Fredericks. “We got lucky.”

Flint wasn’t counting himself lucky – having not wished to be attacked by an equal opponent at the culmination of the mission. He didn’t give voice to his feelings.

Bay 7 was huge, but so were the two spaceships fighting within it. Burning light from the huge openings in the Gorgadar’s hull spilled onto the walls and the floor, while debris rained down, leaving trails of white and orange as it tumbled. Through the contrasts of light and shadow raked a thousand lines of the Gorgadar’s repeater fire, which fruitlessly struck the enemy shield.

Flint’s manoeuvring had earned him a tight-angle view along his opponent’s flank, gaining him an impression of its overall shape. The enemy ship was a cuboid with rounded sides. Two huge landing skids ran along its undersides, though a vessel with this mass wasn’t designed to ever set down. In many ways, it reminded Flint of the Lavorix warship Hexidine, but fitted with a huge gun reminiscent of the one carried by the Aeklu.

That gun began to rotate on its enormous turret, as the enemy hunted an opportunity to discharge the weapon.

I’m going to lose this.

The thought was unbidden and unwelcome, and the fury it brought was enough to make Flint shudder with the intensity of it. He threw the Gorgadar towards the bay walls, bringing up the nose at the same time. Too late – the enemy gauss cannon jumped a thousand metres back into its housing. Flint saw the projectile strike his warship’s energy shield on the forward topside, and the deep blue ovoid protecting the Gorgadar dimmed.

“Damnit, that’s sixty percent of our reserves gone in one shot,” said Fredericks.

“Boost the recharge,” snapped Flint.

“It’s already as high as it’s safe to go, sir.”

Flint cursed and then cursed again. His eye caught sight of the timer for the Balanor’s return. It was still at four minutes, but if the Gorgadar was destroyed, there’d be no stasis field and no focused extractor shot. The Ancidium would be overcome and the Entropy would turn its attention to the alliance.

Failure here in Bay 7 would be a disaster beyond comprehension.

And that’s when the thought entered Flint’s head.

What about Bay Zero?

The linking door was open in the floor directly below the Gorgadar. To get through it, Flint would have to pilot his warship directly across the nose of the opposing warship. If that particle beam had recharged and if the enemy weapons officer was fast on the trigger, the Gorgadar would be in real trouble.

Every reward came with risk. Flint bared his teeth and prepared to reach for the prize.

Chapter Thirty

“We’re going for Bay Zero,” said Flint.

Larson caught on at once. “I’ll prepare the welcoming committee, sir.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

Flint sent the Gorgadar portside towards the far bay wall. The enemy vessel rotated to follow and he knew beyond doubt that its particle beam had recharged and was ready to fire. Flint threw the Gorgadar vertically towards the bay ceiling and allowed the warship’s shield to collide with the Ancidium’s interior. He felt nothing of the impact.

The enemy commanding officer raised the nose of its own vessel, doubtless scenting the kill. Before the shot could come, Flint dropped the Gorgadar straight towards the linking tunnel to Bay Zero. If the enemy discharged their particle beam in haste, this might just work. However, if they held the shot, they’d have a leisurely few seconds in which to track the Gorgadar as it descended through the linking tunnel. If that happened, Flint couldn’t imagine he'd live to see a third discharge from the enemy weapon.

Twin bolts of red lanced out from the opposing vessel’s nose. They struck the Gorgadar’s topside plating and cut two furrows across the alloy, each five hundred metres deep. On went the beams, ignoring the Ancidium’s hull defences and heading out through aft wall of the bay. The Ancidium’s stern was hundreds of kilometres away and the damage would be immense.

At this moment, Flint didn’t care. He ignored the eruption of plating and the fierce light his warship cast as it plunged through the tunnel, and focused on the coming seconds.

The moment the Gorgadar was into the bay, Flint piloted it straight over the incomplete construction on the floor. Parked with its nose pointing towards the starboard wall of the bay, the Vorgeran made Flint shiver every time he saw it. The fact that this warship would surely never leave this place and never fulfil the purpose for which it was intended, could only be a good thing. Here and now, Flint was ecstatic that its array of weapons would be unleashed, if just this once.

“I’ve received confirmation from the Vorgeran’s battle computer, sir,” said Larson. “Its weapons systems are online and set to auto target. I have instructed it to disregard collateral damage to the bay.”

“Thank you, Commander,” said Flint, rotating his warship as he spoke, in order that its main armament would be pointed at the linking tunnel.

The enemy commanding officer was clearly expecting Flint to be lying in wait and it dropped incendiary cannisters into Bay Zero. The Gorgadar’s hull repeaters were still active and they smashed the bombs into pieces before they could detonate.

“There’s no way that warship’s coming into this bay before its particle beam is recharged,” said Maddox.

“No doubt,” said Flint.

He gritted his teeth. The enemy captain was clearly experienced – in other circumstances it might not commit its warship to an immediate attack. All Flint could do was hope that his opponent was operating under orders to force a quick win, no matter the cost.

“Three minutes and the Balanor will be here,” said Becerra.

The enemy vessel dropped vertically at high velocity into Bay Zero, immediately banking left. It crashed into the floor, while Flint attempted to correct the aim of the Gorgadar’s main armament. A flash of darkness blocked the sensors, blinding Flint to the bay outside. On his panel, the shield reserve gauge was falling fast.

“An energy drain weapon,” said Fredericks.

Flint didn’t respond. In case the enemy weapon had a limited area of effect, he threw the Gorgadar flank-first towards the bay wall. An impact indicator on his panel flashed its warning.

Abruptly, the sensors cleared, and Flint saw the enemy warship at once. Not much of it was left and, before his eyes, the remaining twelve-kilometre section of its hull exploded into a dense shower of particles.

“Damn,” said Larson.

Flint could only nod in acknowledgement. His eyes went to the Vorgeran. The unfinished warship was only just visible through the dust and, when Flint narrowed his eyes, he thought he could make out the barrels of its four topside destroyer cannons.

“Not even the Ixidar could have done the job so quickly,” said Garrett in wonder.

“A discussion for later,” said Flint.

He felt he’d been fortunate to win this engagement, but he’d take a lucky victory over defeat any day of the week.

“That energy drain weapon took our shield below five percent,” said Fredericks.

“Let’s hope we don’t need it again,” said Flint. “Two minutes and the Balanor will be here.”

Two minutes. Shit.

He sent the Gorgadar accelerating across the bay towards the linking tunnel. A check of the feeds told Flint of a new arrival. In the exact centre of Bay 7, a cube-shaped warship hung motionless, a promise of annihilation to anything which dared challenge its guns.

“The Ixidar,” said Larson.

“Not a mark on it,” said Maddox.

Flint piloted the Gorgadar through the linking tunnel into Bay 7 and then out from beneath the Ixidar. Admiral Aston would be watching, but she made no effort to communicate.

“Back to the entrance,” said Flint, piloting the Gorgadar into the tunnel which led to outside. There was no let-up in the conflict and he wondered what had become of the other Ancidium-sized vessel which Admiral Recker had mentioned earlier.

“One minute and the Balanor will be here,” said Becerra.

“Our life batteries are full, sir,” said Fredericks. “We can discharge the extractor upon your order.”

“Acknowledged.”

Flint’s eyes went to the status readouts for the Gorgadar. The warship was holding together admirably - the recent particle beam had failed to take out any critical systems and the shield was recharging at its normal rate.

The digits on the timer fell, and part of Flint wished they could be frozen in place for eternity. So much was riding on the coming moments that he couldn’t imagine what he would do if the Balanor remained dormant.

“Thirty seconds,” said Becerra.

A warship dropped out of lightspeed, visible on the Gorgadar’s forward feeds at a half-million kilometres. It was the vessel which Recker had mentioned earlier, and the sensor overlay indicated it was nine hundred kilometres in length and with an estimate mass thirty percent smaller than the Ancidium. To Flint, it seemed as if this opposing vessel, and the Kalindium earlier, had been the test runs leading up to the construction of the Ancidium itself.

“The enemy spaceship is firing its weapons, sir,” said Burner.

“Of course it is,” said Flint.

“If it decides to—” started Maddox.

“Let’s wait and see, Lieutenant.”

“Ten seconds, sir,” said Becerra.

“Ready on the stasis,” said Flint. He couldn’t take his eyes off the feeds. If anything was going to screw things up again, this was when it would happen.

“Five seconds.”

“Lieutenant Fredericks – create the stasis field.”

“Yes, sir. Stasis created.”

From its position just inside the bay tunnel, the Gorgadar’s forwardmost feeds had a view towards the Ancidium’s stern. And there it was – the Balanor forcing its way through this most potent of stasis fields.

“Have you identified your target, Commander?”

“Yes, sir,” said Larson. “The Balanor is currently out of the extractor’s firing arc.”

Flint watched the alien vessel approach. His every muscle was tense and his head ached, while sweat prickled his scalp and his unshaven cheeks.

The Balanor’s nose came level with the opening and Flint detected the faintest hint of acceleration, as if it were fighting against the stasis like it had done before.

“Nearly,” said Larson, so softly that Flint hardly heard her voice.

On the tactical overlay, he could see the position of the final control AI module. Another five hundred kilometres and it would be within the extractor’s firing arc.

“Lieutenant Fredericks – extend the negation field.”

“Yes, sir. The negation field now encompasses the target module.”

“The Balanor’s velocity is increasing, sir,” said Eastwood.

“I can see that, Lieutenant.”

“I mean it’s increasing at a greater rate than last time.”

“Not so much that we can’t handle it,” said Flint. He turned and faced Larson. “You’ve got this, Commander.”

Larson didn’t so much as blink, such was her concentration. “Yes, sir. I’ve got this.”

The incredible mass of the Balanor continued its way past the opening and its increasing velocity was much more noticeable than it had been only moments ago. Flint was on the verge of ordering an increase in the stasis field strength, but he held his tongue, in case giving the command would disturb the carefully balanced equilibrium.

“Nearly,” Larson repeated.

“Don’t wait on my order, Commander. Fire when ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tactical overlay indicated the target control module was almost within firing range. A readout showed the distance and it fell from two hundred kilometres to one hundred. Flint wanted to say something encouraging, but he kept his mouth tightly shut.

“Target in range,” said Larson. “Focused extractor: fired.”

Ignoring the pain of the recoil, Flint kept his eyes on the sensor feeds. The Balanor continued as before, its velocity climbing at a rate that was slightly more than linear.

“Cancel the stasis,” said Flint.

“Yes, sir. Stasis cancelled,” said Fredericks.

The Balanor vanished from the opening, having returned to its out-of-stasis velocity. Combat resumed and the projectiles and beam weapons previously held in stasis continued on to their targets. Explosions flashed in the darkness. Opposite the Bay 7 exit, the nine-hundred-kilometre enemy warship was exactly where it had been before.

“Did it work?” asked Maddox.

“The Balanor has not deviated from its heading,” said Becerra.

“Keep watching,” snapped Flint.

“Yes, sir.”

Flint swore. Having done everything possible, it seemed as if the Balanor was still dormant. Although failure wasn’t yet certain, signs were that the focused extractor hadn’t done the business.

Firing the extractor had been Flint’s one and only plan. He had nothing else. Wondering what the hell he should try next, Flint tipped back his head and stared at the ceiling.

Chapter Thirty-One

“If the extractors didn’t work, maybe it was because the energy was dissipating from the control AI modules before the next one was activated,” said Eastwood. “Maybe we needed to energize all four at once.”

“How would we manage that?” asked Flint.

“An energy burst, sir.”

“What kind of energy burst?”

“The destabiliser. But I don’t mean a standard discharge, I mean we flood the conduits leading to the hardware with so much energy that the discharge effect is much greater than the Lavorix ever intended.”

“Won’t that create a massive death sphere?” asked Flint.

“Yes, sir, and stasis as well. I don’t want to guess what else it might do. The last time we fired it, the Gorgadar—”

“I know,” said Flint.

“What I’m proposing will almost certainly destroy the Gorgadar and us with it,” said Eastwood. “If we stay inside the Ancidium—”

“How long will it take to set up the destabilizer?” asked Flint.

“We’ll need to fill the life batteries again, sir. A few minutes after that, I’ll have everything in place for the discharge.”

“Certain death, huh?” said Larson. “That’s something we’ve been promised before and here we are.”

“That’s right, Commander,” said Flint. He tried to sound hopeful, but it wasn’t a convincing effort. “Maybe we should load our expectancy deltas into one of our missile tubes and fire them at the Balanor next time it comes by.”

Larson tried to smile. “That might do it”

“Sir, I just got off the comms with Admiral Recker,” said Garrett. “I told him we’ve fired the fourth extractor shot. The enemy have deployed warships that are capable of penetrating the Ancidium’s hull defences. Admiral Recker says he’ll have to order the Ixidar out of Bay 7 and into combat again.”

“I take it we aren’t planning a withdrawal?” asked Flint.

“Negative, sir. The Fleet Admiral says he has faith in you.”

“You told him about the destabiliser?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No change in the Balanor’s heading, sir,” said Becerra. “It’ll be out of the Ancidium’s sensor arc soon.”

“Admiral Aston has requested that we move our asses, sir,” said Burner. “She doesn’t want to waste an SRT charge exiting the bay.”

Flint knew he should retreat in order to allow the Ixidar to pass. Instead, he piloted the Gorgadar outside and brought it to a halt five hundred kilometres from the tunnel exit. The moment the warship was clear of the tunnel, the Ixidar raced past and banked towards the Ancidium’s nose.

“We’re under attack, sir,” said Larson.

A torrent of gauss slugs struck the Gorgadar’s shield, fired by the vast enemy warship half a million kilometres away. Doubtless missiles would be on their way. The Ixidar had also become a target and its energy shield glowed as it soaked inbound fire from a dozen sources.

“Damn, look at what the Ancidium is facing,” said Larson.

The Ancidium was under attack from dozens of thirty-kilometre warships of a design Flint had not yet seen in this engagement. These enemy ships were protected by brightly glowing energy shields and they were equipped with particle beams similar to the one on the Gorgadar. Spears of red punched at regular intervals through the Ancidium’s hull, creating burning holes and ripping free huge quantities of heat-saturated armour.

“Upper clusters one to thirty: fired. Portside clusters one to thirty: fired,” said Maddox.

Hundreds of warheads sped towards the Entropy’s warships, detonating against their shields. Flint wanted to take a more active part in the fray, but Admiral Recker was counting on him staying alive long enough to fire the destabiliser.

“Return to the bay, sir,” said Larson. “Before one of those spaceships fires their particle beam at us.”

Flint knew it was the right thing to do, though his mind pictured himself unleashing decay pulses and stasis fields. He pulled the control bars towards him and the Gorgadar headed towards the bay, its shield gauge falling steadily from the fusillade directed against it.

“The life batteries are full, sir, and it won’t be long until the destabiliser is ready,” said Eastwood. “The Ancidium and whatever other warships we have remaining will need to be out of here at the time of discharge.”

“Understood.”

Flint was sure the Ancidium would survive long enough for Eastwood to finish his preparations, but the vessel would be badly damaged. He guessed it didn’t matter.

The Entropy wasn’t done with Aranox. A spaceship exited lightspeed a quarter of a million kilometres from the Gorgadar. Then came a second, a third, and a fourth. When he saw them, Flint couldn’t even bring himself to curse. Each of the four was a copy of the Kalindium, and each an illustration of the Entropy’s reach within the universe. Flint experienced despair – not just for the alliance, but for the endless other living species whose existences were defined by pain, misery and, finally, death, at the hands of the Entropy’s spawn.

“Particle beam locked and fired,” said Larson.

Blue energy cut into the closest of the huge warships, which had through misfortune appeared within the particle beam’s narrow arc. Flint rotated the Gorgadar while the beam was active and the weapon cut a vast opening in the enemy ship’s flank. It was a good strike, but it was spitting in the wind.

“We need the destabiliser soon, Lieutenant Eastwood,” said Flint.

“You can fire a normal discharge any time you want, sir. It won’t be what we need.”

As the newly arrived vessels shook off their sensor blindness, they fired upon the Ancidium, and their bay doors opened in preparation to disgorge a multitude of warships.

Though the Ancidium would soon be destroyed, Flint nevertheless retained the faintest of hopes that the destabiliser would create a billion-kilometre pulse that would kill everything and put the remains in stasis.

Yet still the Entropy’s warships came. Dozens more exited lightspeed a couple of million kilometres away and Flint saw that they were many smaller vessels clustered around a single, much larger warship.

“Another bunch to add to the pile,” he said bitterly.

“Two minutes and I’ll be done, sir,” said Eastwood.

Even if we put these in stasis, I’m sure the Entropy has plenty of other fleets it can call on to wipe out the alliance.

Flint kept the thought to himself, though he guessed everyone was thinking the same. Locking these spaceships in zero-time would be nothing more than a setback for the Entropy. Maybe a hundred species would survive a few extra centuries because of it, but the end result would be no change.

Within Flint’s mind, anger won the battle against despair, though fury had no answer to helplessness. He didn’t want to die, but he didn’t give the matter much thought. Mostly, he hated that everything he and his crew had fought for had ultimately come to nothing.

And then, something incredible happened. A red particle beam, a thousand kilometres in diameter, struck one of the massive enemy warships on its nose, continued all the way along its hull and then out through its stern. For a time measured in moments, the outline of the target vessel was visible within the intense light of the beam, until its hull defences failed and it was torn apart by heat expansion.

“What the hell—”

A colossal warship appeared on the Gorgadar’s tactical. This vessel was on the cusp of Aranox and heading towards the conflict at a velocity just short of lightspeed. The spaceship vanished and then reappeared amongst the red dots of the Entropy’s fleet.

“The Balanor!” said Larson, her eyes wide.

Immediately, the warships which were attacking the Ancidium broke off and executed short-range transits towards the Balanor. The Gorgadar’s sensors detected thirty or forty particle beams cutting into the much larger vessel. Meanwhile, the other Kalindium-sized warships stopped firing at the Ancidium and instead directed their weapons at the Balanor.

“Can it take them all?” asked Maddox.

“One minute and I’ll be ready, sir,” said Eastwood.

“We won’t be firing the destabiliser, Lieutenant,” said Flint with sudden certainty. “We’ve played our part.”

A wave of energy swept through the Gorgadar and it was followed a moment later by another of even greater intensity. It was nothing like a death pulse, feeling more like a breath of pure, freezing wind, and Flint knew at once that he was feeling the effects of the Scalos artifact.

On the feeds, the Balanor started jumping from place to place and it fired its immense particle beam again. That beam emerged slowly from the Balanor’s nose and then accelerated into another of the Kalindium-ships, destroying it in seconds.

“Stasis,” said Flint in understanding. “The Balanor is making stasis fields.”

“Admiral Recker is on the comms, sir,” said Burner. “We’re getting out of here.”

Flint was reluctant to miss the show. The Balanor suffered another few dozen particle beam attacks, but then it released a visible wave of darkness which rippled across space. Flint braced himself, but felt nothing.

“The Balanor is taking some damage, sir,” said Larson. “There are still thousands of the Entropy’s warships out there.”

Flint shook his head. “The Endurus is coming, Commander.”

He hadn’t finished speaking when the Endurus exited lightspeed, within a hundred thousand kilometres of the Ancidium. Without suffering any measurable period of sensor blindness, the massive vessel entered lightspeed again, this time emerging near the Balanor. Both vessels fired their particle beams and Flint grunted at a wave of unleashed death energy.

Then, he felt the shudder of a lightspeed transition and the sensors went blank. A moment later, the Gorgadar re-entered local space.

“The Ancidium brought us along on an SRT,” said Larson.

A second SRT followed and then a third. This time, the Ancidium stayed in local space long enough for the Gorgadar’s sensors to come online. Recker had taken the warship as far as possible from the engagement at Aranox.

“Admiral Recker advises he’s readying the gateway, sir,” said Garrett. “He suggests you pilot the Gorgadar deeper into the bay.”

Flint nodded and did what Recker had asked. Although the Gorgadar was now fully within Bay 7, its sensors had a view of outside and he watched carefully, in case any of the Entropy’s warship’s gave chase.

They did not and, two minutes later, the Ancidium opened a gateway and emerged at a new location, far away.

End

Two days and six gateway transits later, Admiral Recker had given the order to abandon the Ancidium.

Before that happened, he’d switched off the Lavorix capital ship’s hull defences and ordered the Ixidar and Axindar to fire their disintegration cannons until several critical systems had been turned into dust.

After that had come the destruction of any usable Lavorix assets which remained in the bays, including the Vorgeran. Lastly, the Ixidar used its cannons to turn the Axindar into powder, and then the Ixidar itself was destroyed by the Ancidium’s remaining weaponry.

“Do you think Admiral Recker gave the order too soon?” asked Lieutenant Fredericks. “Maybe we should have waited for the Endurus or the Balanor to show up.”

“No,” said Flint with certainty. “This was the right time.”

The transport shuttle’s engines thrummed softly as he piloted it towards the Daklan desolator Iverius, which was one of the dozen vessels sent to collect the remaining personnel from the Ancidium. For some reason, Flint found himself in no hurry to depart.

“The Ixidar,” said Larson softly.

Flint caught something in her voice and looked over. Her eyes were glistening.

“It was something special,” he said.

“I should hate it for what it once did to the alliance fleet. And yet—” She sighed heavily and then a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth. “It had nothing on the Vengeance.”

“We’ll talk about it,” Flint promised. “Once we’re home.”

“Once we’re home.” Larson’s gaze was distant, as if the concept of home was now strange to her.

Flint said nothing else for a time and kept his eyes on the sensors. The Ancidium was a mess – almost a wreck – with hundreds of particle beam holes visible everywhere across its hull. Each wound was a splayed mess of ruptured plating, still glowing red in places. Diminished it was, yet the threat of this vessel hadn’t gone away. Soon the Endurus or the Balanor would come for it and ensure that never again would the Ancidium bring misery to so many.

“Did you say goodbye to Alsar-9?” Larson asked softly.

Flint nodded. The guilt was a burden he’d carry forever. “I promised it freedom - a chance to make good the damage it had caused. Instead, I brought it oblivion.” The words caught in his throat and he swallowed.

“I’ve been told the hardest part is the aftermath,” said Larson. She reached out and rested her hand on his arm.

Flint took a breath and pushed his feelings about Alsar-9 aside. Larson was watching and he looked across, into her eyes. With an effort, he smiled. “We did it. We really did it.”

Unexpectedly, Larson grinned. “And I’d do it again if I had to.”

Suddenly, Flint felt his worries slide away. He and his crew had pulled off the impossible - with plenty of help from Captain Vance and his platoon along the way. The long-sought victory had been won.

Now that the Endurus and the Balanor were unleashed upon the chaos, the scales of the universe might once again settle. Wars would still be fought, but peace would also have its place.

And, Flint thought, it was about damned time.

* * *

Sign up to my mailing list here to be the first to find out about new releases.

Other Science Fiction Books by Anthony James

Survival Wars (Seven Books) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Crimson Tempest

Bane of Worlds

Chains of Duty

Fires of Oblivion

Terminus Gate

Guns of the Valpian

Mission: Nemesis

Obsidiar Fleet (Six Books – set after the events in Survival Wars) – Available in eBook and Paperback.

Negation Force

Inferno Sphere

God Ship

Earth’s Fury

Suns of the Aranol

Mission: Eradicate

The Transcended (Seven Books – set after the events in Obsidiar Fleet) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Augmented

Fleet Vanguard

Far Strike

Galaxy Bomb

Void Blade

Monolith

Mission: Destructor

Fire and Rust (Seven Books) – Available in eBook, Paperback and Audio.

Iron Dogs

Alien Firestorm

Havoc Squad

Death Skies

Refuge 9

Nullifier

Scum of the Universe

Anomalies (Two Books) – Available in eBook and Paperback.

Planet Wreckers

Assault Amplified

Savage Stars (Seven Books) – Available in eBook and Paperback

War from a Distant Sun

Fractured Horizons

Galactar

Fulcrum Gun

Laws of Ancidium

Empires in Ruin

Recker’s Chance