The Admiral and the Assistant

Flander charged after Herin. His arms churned as he smoothly drove himself after the newest feeder. He followed the dull cyan droplets that were scattered along the ivory struts of the boneship, the result of Herin's injury.

Herin was faster, but Flander was resolute.

Flander had a process running in the background, just to marvel, to rage at Herin's perfidy. That an Imperial should be the one to help the Feeders-- it was all he could do to keep that process under control, to keep it from taking over the decision matrix and wasting energy screaming in outrage. Every movement, every erg had to be reserved to chase and catch Herin.

Herin couldn't run forever. And when he stopped, Flander would be there, ready to tear him to pieces.

The struts grew warmer under Flander's pincers, and the energy flowing through them was increasing.

They were getting closer to the reactor.

The Navy fighters were spread in a glittering array over Takkar. They formed a net between the surface of the planet and the boneship. Thus far the battle for them had been quiet. Their radio chatter had been sparse.

Suddenly the comms lit up.

"Mission Commander, I have bogies."

"Multiple-- many bogies incoming."

"Planetward find; targets arriving."

"All right," barked the mission commander. "Enough chit-chat. Now that we have something to shoot at, let's get in this fight. Pair off, take one target at a time. Let's give these soul-munchers something spicier to chew on. All hail the Imperium!"

"All hail!" they cried, and the fighters of the Ninth Fleet screamed into the orderly ranks of the returning scarabs, their blasters lighting the night sky.

"The boneship's rate of fire has slowed, Admiral," Lieutenant Renning said.

"Good. That may give us the time we need. Ships of the Wraithfleet, tighten up," Admiral Stonefist barked. "I want you all rubbing elbows. Get tight, then get close to the boneship. Park this fleet in the back of their throat."

The ships of the Wraithfleet drew together in a classic Imperial cuneus formation; a long, narrow pyramid of ships. They tightened their formation until there were only a few hundred yards between each ship.

"Tighter!" Grimthorn barked. "There's only one shot at this. The inverse square power law works better the closer you get! You should be able to hand a beer to each other through the window!"

The tattered remnant drew even closer, a hundred yards, now fifty, now twenty. The Wraithfleet was now an impossibly dense cluster of Imperial might.

"All other ships, pull back," Grimthorn ordered. "Minimum one hundred miles distance from the Wraithfleet. Weapons, prepare the dropout code."

Kinnit, at her console, bit her lip with her eyes streaming and nodded. She began punching up the code Captain Cohrmere had sent.

Admiral Stonefist stood tall on the captain's dais, sweeping his steely gaze over the bridge monitor, his console, and his crew.

"Wraithfleet, advance," Admiral Stonefist said.

The engines of the Wraithfleet flared, and the formation began moving. Subtle ripples swept through the formation as they tried to avoid banging into each other. Even so, the occasional screech of metal or percussion of impact sounded as the massive ships rubbed each other.

The fleet slowly picked up speed, covering the distance to the boneship. The Feeders' weapon lashed out again. The formation was tight enough that two ships of the Wraithfleet were swallowed. The formation continued to advance, silent, implacable.

"Admiral, only two ships of buffer remain," said Lieutenant Renning.

"Steady," Admiral Stonefist said. "They only need to make it to the boneship. But they need to be able to stop, as well."

The tableau over Takkar seemed to move in slow motion. The two moons shone down on the emerald-green planet, and on the array of ships. The Ninth Fleet, hanging back, watching with tense anticipation. The boneship, missing a large chunk, waiting now, trying to fumble their weapon together for another shot without Herin's guidance. And the Wraithfleet itself, sailing smoothly across the gap, aimed like an arrow at the heart of the Feeders.

"Wraithfleet, reverse thrust!" Admiral Stonefist barked. "Start your deceleration."

The Feeder ship fired again.

"Sir, we've lost two more ships!" Renning cried. "We have no more buffer!"

"Activation code ready, Admiral," said Kinnit, her voice cracking.

"Get in there!" Grimthorn barked. "If you're not getting impact alerts, you're not close enough!"

The first of the ships made contact. It gently crunched into the surface of the boneship, coming to a rough stop, nestled in the warm, organic struts of the Feeder vessel. The three ships following it also softly crashed in behind.

Alarms blared throughout the fleet as more ships collided, piling in one one another, clustering into the shallow crater the fleet had dug, like a scab on a wound.

"Good. Keep it up."

The Wraithfleet stacked on top of one another, trying to stack on each other without actively destroying their own ships. The process continued, ship after ship, settling deeper and deeper, until the entire Wraithfleet was clustered on the surface of the enemy vessel.

"Admiral! If their timing is consistent, we've got less than a minute until the boneship fires again!"

Captain Cohrmere's image appeared on the bridge monitor. Behind him, numerous flashing red lights could be seen. Impact alerts blared as he opened comms.

"We are in position, Admiral," Captain Cohrmere said.

"Acknowledged." Admiral Stonefist carefully saluted. "Your sacrifice will not be forgotten."

Captain Cohrmere returned the salute.

"It has been my honor to serve the Imperium, the Ninth Fleet, and you, sir."

Stolen story; please report.

"All hail the Imperium!"

"All hail!"

Admiral Stonefist ripped the salute.

"Weapons, it is time. Activate the code."

There was no response. Grimthorn glanced over. Kinnit stood at her console, frozen. Her hand hovered over the button, but her mouth was locked open, and tears streamed down her face.

"Lieutenant, activate the code," Grimthorn repeated.

Her mouth worked fruitlessly.

"I... I can't, I just..."

Admiral Stonefist stepped down from the dais and walked over to her.

"Kinnit, you need to do your duty."

She looked up at him with tear-washed eyes.

"I can't send them back to jumpspace... it's too awful... and what about Flander? He could be over there by them..."

"Kinnit." He looked down at her, his face stern but caring. "Their sacrifice is not yours to deny." He slid his hand over hers. He gently applied pressure, pushing her hand down until the button clicked.

A sob escaped her.

"I'm sorry!" she bleated, but who she was apologizing to was not clear. Grimthorn squeezed her shoulder and stepped back to the captain's dais.

"C-code activated, Admiral," she said in a wavering voice. Everyone on the bridge stayed carefully focused on their consoles, though there was a higher-than usual amount of rubbing of eyes, sniffling, and clearing of throats.

"Acknowledged," Admiral Stonefist said. "Let us hope it's enough to save the Imperium." He leaned forward, setting his knuckles on the banister. "I hope you find what you're looking for out there, Cohrmere," he said quietly.

Herin galloped through the boneship, mewling in terror. The tiny paddle-like appendages in front of his face flapped desperately, trying to drive more of the thin air around him toward his gills.

He stumbled to a halt, leaning against one of the bone struts. He had to hope he was far enough away from the mad robot.

Herin thought all the robots all been destroyed. What kind of sick mind in the Navy had unleashed one as a weapon?

His missing arms had stopped dripping, at least. That had to be enough to lose the robot.

He calmed a little as his blood re-oxygenated. He started to think through his plans.

He needed to get to console, get back into the battle. The Imperial Navy was a broken force, a toothless dog barking, but Herin didn't trust the other Feeders not to screw it up again somehow.

Recovering slightly, he pushed off, moving further into the ship.

He had to make sure they put this dog down, once and for all.

The fighters of the Imperial Navy savaged the scarabs as they tried to return to the boneship. Bright beams of blaster fire lanced across the inky blackness of space, hammering the little round grayy-green vessels. The fire was relentless, but the scarabs were tough. Only a few scarabs flared and ruptured.

"Mission Commander!" squawked the radio. "We can't take these guys out! There are too many!"

"Steady," came the reply. "We don't have to destroy them all, we just have to disrupt and keep as many as we can from returning. Admiral Stonefist wants to limit their ability to feed."

"Too many are getting through!"

"Keep at them! We'll kill what we can and stop what we can. It's a turkey shoot; let's stock up for the Victory Supper."

"Yes, sir!"

The Naval fighters continued attacking, harassing the swirling mass of scarabs.

The Wraithfleet sat clustered in the shattered hollow of the crater on the surface of the boneship. Deep within each ship, a reactor pulsed; the beating heart of each ship, each powerful fusion reactor sending a thin thread of life and light throughout each vessel.

In the reactor chamber of the ISS Helix was a clumsily-constructed box sitting on the floor next to the reactor, as did every ship of the Wraithfleet. Thick cabling ran to a shunt from the primary power output. Nestled in the box was a jumphole expander: a space-bending device that had been pulled out of a roadbuilder torpedo; a device that, when powered, would create an unstable jumphole.

Under normal circumstances, the nascent jumphole would need a gravitational force to hold it open and stabilize it long enough for a ship to go through.

In this case, the jumphole would need no stabilization. One command, and the jumphole would engulf the ship. It would only be a blip, only for one moment, but it would be long enough to drop the ISS Helix into a random spot in jumpspace.

Throughout the dozens of remaining ships, identical devices waited for the encrypted command to activate.

On the bridge of the Helix, Captain Cohrmere stood straight. His white-eyed gaze was neutral, but his bearing showed hints of eagerness. Alarms blared, warning of the contact with other ships, with proximity to the boneship, a rush of noise and panic that washed past him.

"Captain, the boneship is nearly ready to fire their weapon again!"

Captain Cohrmere smiled.

"Admiral Stonefist will be in time."

At that moment, the bridge monitor blazed with a warning.

"DROPOUT CODE RECEIVED"

The bridge let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Gentlemen," said Captain Cohrmere, "let's go home."

On the bridge of the ISS Swordheart, Admiral Stonefist watched the monitor intently as the code transmitted. The cluster of Wraithfleet ships on the surface of the Feeder vessel looked tiny, inconsequential.

For a tense moment, nothing happened. Then a sphere of blackness began to grow, swallowing the Wraithfleet. It was limned with otherworldly light, bending the space around it weirdly. It started small, barely eclipsing the Wraithfleet, then with startling suddenness it expanded, creating an enormous bubble. The jumphole glowed with dark energy, eclipsing the boneship.

"Admiral, there are unknown energy readings coming from the jumphole!" Lieutenant Renning cried.

"All shields full," Admiral Stonefist said.

The largest jumphole ever created expanded further. The edges were already beginning to fray and destabilize. It began collapsing as they watched.

For a few moments, less than a minute, the crew of the Swordheart could look directly into the heart of jumpspace. Light streamed in and was deconstructed in the chaos of jumpspace. Roiling energies sluiced across the surface of the jumphole, creating a shimmering spray of light.

As quickly as it had expanded, it collapsed. The surface of the jumphole boiled away, shrinking, dissipating. In seconds, it had vanished completely. The boneship remained, but a massive arc had been scooped out of the side where the Wraithfleet had lain.

"The jumphole has collapsed, Admiral."

"Very good. Scan for reactance. We have to know if we've destroyed their reactor."

"Scanning, sir!"

Everyone watched the bridge monitor tensely while Lieutenant Renning initiated the scans.

Flander clung to the struts as the boneship shuddered around him. Violent vibrations rattled through every bone and support. Energy whipped wildly back and forth throughout the structure. Flander's sensors went wild as bizarre energies sleeted across him.

There was nothing to do but hold on as tightly as he could. Fortunately, this was a simple task with a hundred arms.

After a few minutes, the rumbling subsided, the energies ebbed, and Flander crept forward.

He'd been chasing Herin, but with this sudden, mysterious event, he moved with more care. Before long, he found himself at the edge of a massive crater, the boundary of the ship. Hard pinpoints of stars and the two moons of Takkar stared at him as he clung to the rim of the crater. A long, smooth, inverted curve greeted his sensors; the surface of the boneship had been cut away as cleanly as with a laser.

Further down in the valley of the crater, he could see a gap. Referencing the map Unit 24601 had begun making, he realized that the gap corresponded to the reactor chamber.

The dark sphere of the reactor had been sliced in half. Reactor fuel sprayed uselessly into the void of space, and as Flander watched with his sensors, the energy from the reactor dimmed, dwindled, and went out.

The Feeder reactor sat cold and dead.

Flander tapped once, firmly, on the struts of the boneship.

Herin Kasra fled through the remains of the boneship. The rumbling had subsided, but his mind was awash with fear and panic.

He'd been so close to getting everything he'd ever wanted. How had it all gone so wrong, so quickly?

The reactor must have gone. He could feel the rough surface of the bone struts beneath his arms as he pulled himself along. They no longer hummed with energy. They were growing colder. The deadly frigidity of space was not slow to sap the warmth from of the ship.

Without a reactor, all was lost.

Gasping and mewling, Herin reached the edge of the boneship. He collapsed, writhing for air. He gazed out at the array before him.

The fighters of the Imperial Navy were blasting apart the remnants of the scarab ships, even though they no longer had a home to return to. The Ninth Fleet spread boldly beyond them, diminished but undefeated, watching impassively as the boneship flickered and died, freezing in the wintry, uncaring cruelty of space.

Space was a darker killer than even Herin Kasra.

The twin moons of Takkar gazed pitilessly down at him, gleaming like spectacles. Herin imagined he could see a cold, cold grin smiling down at him.

He held onto the last strut, gasping, his tiny arms trembling as they clung to the rough surface. His beady eyes dulled and frosted over as the icy void squeezed the warmth from his body. His shell's color faded becoming drab and muddy. His limbs stiffened, kicking weakly, fruitlessly in the frigid remnant of the boneship.

"I'm so hungry," he said in a weak voice. "I never got to eat."

Under the twin moons of Takkar, Herin Kasra died.