Galactic Vigilante (Vigilante Series 3) (31 page)

Around him the ships of Hexagon Prime became six as they rotated about him and
Mata Hari
. As directed, they were falling back in order to leave his field of fire clear of allies. He gave a mental bow to the agitated wing flapping of BattleMind.

“My battlemate, will you reduce yonder planet and naval base to
a fist-sized black hole?”

“Yessss!” snarled BattleMind with a volcanic yowl that made his brains feel like custard atop an earthquake.

The belly of
Mata Hari
opened up and the projector tubes of the Graviton Beam poked into the space between the ship’s hull and the encompassing Alcubierre shield. The shield would pucker open briefly when the projector tubes emitted the coherent gravitons that made matter implode to the density needed to form a black hole.

Planet four was a Mech-dominated world of iron
deposits, polluted streams, unfiltered factory emissions and automated assembly plants that made parts for wounded battleglobes. Only a high elevation plateau was habitable by the oxy-nitro breathers who made up most species in the Anarchate. A complink by Mata Hari into the planetary database said the base contained sixty-three thousand technicians, bondServants and administrators. There were no native sapients and most animal life was dead or going extinct. Reducing the planet to a black hole would be a blessing to all life larger than one cell. He watched as BattleMind activated the T’Chak weapon.

An orange
spear flashed down to impact the center of the high plateau. Where it struck, surface details shimmered briefly. Then they shrank. Abruptly. Quickly. Only his
ocean-time
senses were fast enough to see a planet measuring twelve thousand kilometers across become an imploded piece of matter no larger than a human fist. And that he did not see since a black hole event horizon popped into existence. All rock, atmosphere, molecules and naturally emitted light were now hidden from normal space-time. Only the gravity impact natural to every black hole told anyone passing through this system that once, in this orbital track, there had existed a planet.

“Well done, BattleMind,” he said into the roaring gale of the T’Chak AI’s mind. It exhausted him to make contact with the giant dragon
’s mind, but fair was fair. And BattleMind had accepted his sideline position as Eliana, Suzanne and their fellow Morrigan humans organized fleet maneuvers and practiced weapons fire. It was a rare exhibition of patience by an AI with little respect for flawed, imperfect lifeforms.

BattleMind’s mental attention withdrew from the b
lack hole event horizon and fixed mostly on Matt. With a sideways inclusion of Mata Hari and Gatekeeper, who stood beside his Pit in their persona holos. Two ruby eyes fixed on him. “This scale of destruction is what this ship was created for. The vaporization of 62 battleglobes, twelve Courier ships, four Supply Tubes, forty-three thousand and twelve Remotes and sensors, sixty-three thousand lifeforms and the refueling installation at planet five has added to my achievement of the Task set by my perfect masters. Now, how soon before we repeat this decimation?”

Matt blinked mentally, felt tiredness bone deep, but stayed in
ocean-time
since he must give or approve orders for 506 other T’Chak warships. Plus his own ship. Whose Bridge was dominated by an impatient black-winged dragon.

“
BattleMind, we are six thousand light years from the Crab Nebula and the Sector 14 Intelligence base that orbits star CC93721,” he said to his audience of three AIs. “That will take at least two weeks in Translation for us to cover. Plus we must stop for fuel somewhere in Orion Arm or in Perseus Arm, since after our attack we will need to head far away from this part of the galaxy.” He ignored the puzzled mental signals he was getting from Eliana, Suzanne, George, Rafael, Sarah and the other members of Hexagon Prime. “So my answer is patience, good dragon. When we reach the Crab Nebula supernova, there will be plenty of fighting for us to do.”

Eliana moved into his mind and the mind communion of the AIs and other pilots of their strike fleet. Though as tired feeling as Suzanne had looked, she broadcast determination. “My friends, Matthew has not mentioned the fact that my partner Altuna intercepted a signal to twenty-four battleglobes that
are heading for Pl-3 Orion, the star of Matt’s home world Thuringia. The signal indicated both Commander Chai and Sector Captain Yorkel are in place on the moon that orbits Thuringia. My precog sense does not indicate any attack on Thuringia by Yorkel’s fleet. But it does indicate something . . . unpleasant will occur there.”

Matt swam up from the warm waters of exhaustion. He had indeed not thought further about the signal decoded by Altuna. Now he must. “My friends, AI and organic, we may yet have to make a detour on our
trip to remove Sector 14 Intelligence from service to the Council of Sixteen. And while everyone should take rest and refreshment, be alert to any incoming tachlink signal. While I prefer to attack Sector 14 Intelligence now, as they are coping with the news that most combat ready battleglobes in this sector are now metallic vapor, things may change.”

Sarah’s
wide grin drew the attention of Matt, Eliana and everyone else. “Well, I don’t know about you folks, but I plan to spend two days in bed during Translation! I’ve earned it!”

Human laughter joined with the leg rasping of Toktaleen as every member of Hexagon Prime gave thanks for a battle that had demolished an Anarchate fleet, while suffering no injuries or deaths among the 507 T’Chak warships who made up Ocean Fleet.

Matt left
ocean-time
with a mental jerk, a gasp and the awareness that he was passing out. Dimly he felt Mata Hari’s reassurance that she and the other AIs would see them all safely into Translation. And to a sleep with dreams of hope, no doubt.

Before collapsing
onto the soft bed of her roomsuite, Sarah recalled the mind warmth shared between Matthew and Eliana, and between Suzanne and her George. It was a warmth normal to lifepartners. Or so she’d heard while working at Omega Casino. Now, she had felt that warmth during the Battle Council mindlink. It had left her feeling . . . needful. Was there a Morrigan man among the volunteer pilots who might appreciate her? Might value her organizational talents? Might accept her as she would accept him?

“You binary gendered species are . . . puzzling to me,” said Imperial in her mind over the tachlink node.

She ignored the Chagall paintings that adorned her roomsuite, preferring to lie beneath the stained glass windows he had created for the early United Nations. Before Earth became unified in response to the genome slaver ship attack of 2040. Pulling the silken sheets over her nakedness, she licked her dry lips.

“What about us Humans puzzles you, good Imperial?”

“This loneliness you feel. This need for a partner. Among us T’Chak, each gender always has a partner nearby. That is one of the functions of a neuter.”

Sarah smiled inside. Of such simple matters were hopes born. “Well, we Humans come male and female only. We evolved
to be together. And our world cultures always supported . . . the creation of families. Hopefully with children. As you know from Matt’s memories of his family on Thuringia.”

The pink eyes of her neuter dragon fixed on her mental self, a sense of curiosity showing in her friend’s mind. “Is that why you yearn for a male to join with? To have children? A small one like yourself?”

Was that the source of her yearning? It could be. She had filled her life with work and more work. Now, she mentally joined with an alien AI in space battles she could never have imagined while at the casino. But things change. Why not for her?

“Yes, Imperial. I would like to have a little one like myself. And a . . . a husband and father who would be devoted to me for the rest of our lives.”

Her AI partner blinked once, then receded from her mind as she felt Sarah’s need for rest. For two days of doing nothing but resting while in Translation. They would be in flight for two more weeks. Perhaps her memory of the Morrigan volunteers on the corvette ride they’d all taken to get to Ocean Fleet would sparkle with the face of a good man.

She could only hope. And dream.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

High Commander Brrzeet stood before his control pedestal and contemplated the hysterical tachlink report from a Courier ship that had just arrived in the CC8733 Vela binary system. According to the ship’s Mican captain, planet four and its naval base were gone. Vanished into a small black hole that now occupied its orbital position. A locator beacon had been found orbiting the nearby gas giant. It said the renegade Human Dragoneaux had attacked and destroyed every battleglobe, Courier ship and other Anarchate facilities that existed anywhere in the system. Only metal debris and frozen bodies remained from Sector 14 Naval Base. There were no vidimages of the battle, unlike prior taunting message beacons left by the Human. Just a vidimage of the Human saying “This is what happens to those who harm me and my friends. Cease and survive. Continue and suffer more.”

Amidst his fear at the high probability the Human would attack his Intelligence headquarters, Brrzeet felt brief surprise at the arrogance of the Human. The male spoke as if he belonged to an Ancient species, like the Orko, Brokeet
, Loglan and Spelidon species. But these Humans were only a few hundred cycles into colonizing other worlds. Their home world Earth paid its taxes to Central Nexus. And the Human home world had never attacked or threatened an Anarchate ship or representative. But at least one Human was doing what other species had learned was impossible—trying to overthrow the Anarchate. Well, first things first. He waved a hand over the speech sensor.

“Assistant
Dokeel am-thak, send a tachcall to my colleague Himonius in Sector 13 Combat Command. Ask him to send 120 battleglobes to our system. Send him Commander Chai’s record of this Human’s depredations and say we expect an attack within two Belizel weeks.”

The yellow-furred image of the Hootnai carnivore appeared in a holo above the pedestal. “Complying, my leader.” Its two green eyes were large as suited a night predator. They blinked slowly. “Uh, should we alert our Node leaders regarding this pending attack? So they can order vacsuit drills and—
”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. “I lead. You follow. The Node leaders also follow. I have a plan to
bring this Human here, using the bait of captive Humans. But he and his seven ships will be englobed by this triple fleet I am requesting. Anyway, the Human’s latest attack in Vela system is a two week or longer transit in Translation. Sector 13 Combat Command naval base is just a week away.”

“Understood, High Commander. I obey. The tachcall has been sent to High Commander Himonius.”

He waved the speech and holo link dead.

Brrzeet was not used to giving any
lifeform detailed explanations of his decisions. But the Courier’s report had arrived unencrypted, which meant the 3,124 analysts and bondServants working at Sector14 Intelligence would shortly hear or perceive the same report he’d received. The outline of his strategy should suffice to keep his underlings working and more afraid of him than of this soft-skinned, nearly lame biped. Now, he should be receiving a report from Yorkel and Chai on their Intelligence survey of the Human creature’s Thuringia home world. He would not call them, thereby revealing his own fears. But he needed to hear from them soon. Questions were begin raised about why there was a hyper-fast Courier ship attached to Command Node.

Commander Chai
stood beside a stocky Human named Charles Metzenbaum. He served as governor of this Human colony world. Thuringia was a dry, windy world with no seas or oceans, just lakes, a few rivers and small polar ice caps. The rest of the world’s land was a mix of semi-arid high plateaus, agricultural plains, multiple mountain chains that traced this world’s tectonic plate boundaries, and the single spaceport of Elios. Where he had landed in his shuttle just hours ago. He’d used his AllCall datapad to survey the civil archive database for governance data. When he’d entered the Human structure called the White House and demanded a tour guide and fast hoverjet transport, this Governor Metzenbaum had appeared and insisted on being his personal guide.

“This is the former homestead of Matthew Dragoneaux, his parents Kristen and Benoit, and his four sisters. Or siblings as some species may understand,” said the heavily clothed Human male who had a passable degree of black body hair.

“Former, you say. Has no other Human chosen to claim the land and resume the ground tuber farming this Human family group pursued?”

Metzenbaum turned from looking at the soil-covered habitation wherein his target’s family had passed the cold windy gales of winter. Two strips of black hair above the creature’s brown eyes squeezed together in what he’d learned was a human look of disapproval. “This is . . . sacred ground to my fellow humans. As are the
home sites where the other 41 humans captured by the genome slavers once lived. No human would . . . displease the memory of our captives by occupying their former home dwelling.”