MotherShip (36 page)

“It is time,” Rawlon growled.

The Circle Ship of Minstrel was Mother's sole companion as they flew to the gathering of fleets. The manta-ray silhouette of MotherShip drove hard through the blackness of space, her now fully restored ThunderStar engines straining to be set free at full power.

The great Kraaqi warfleet was already gathered along with the majority of the Mewiis and Hrono fleets at the place appointed by the High Command after a final review of the data from the lost scout ship. But Mother had desired a few hours to be alone with her children and Minstrel as they traveled separately from the other ships.

Deep inside the circuits that ran throughout her being, Mother felt something she had never felt before. It was a kind of supercharged, electric feeling. Even as she began her diagnostics, knowing it was unnecessary, images began flashing into her near-term memories.

Memories of her children, precious memories of when they were young and she was their entire world.

Mother's processors burned with super activity.

“My life is nothing like I dreamed it would be.” Becky's eyes filled with tears as the twinkling stars on the viewscreen swept by.

Mother's optics focused on Becky's familiar form, blonde hair falling in waves across her shoulders. Jaric's tall form was beside her now, his arm around her waist as he sought to comfort her. Kyle stepped to her other side, close, but standing alone and aloof, as was his way. His arms were crossed across his broad chest in an outward show of defiance to the inner loneliness.

The last three humans stared in shared silence as Mother carried them ever closer to the gathering storm.

“I only remember war. My whole life has been war.” Becky said through tear-filled eyes. “Even after we defeat the T'kaan Third...there are two more T'kaan fleets.”

Jaric felt the huge lump in his throat as he tried to speak. Closing his eyes, he searched to find his voice. “I wish I could take you away from this. Somewhere, there has to peace, happiness. Somewhere.”

Kyle's eyes narrowed as he looked away, unable to speak.

“What can I do?” Mother asked. “Can I provide something for you? Something to help you?”

“I don't know what I want,” Becky sighed. She wiped her tears, first with the back of her hand, and as more fell, she wiped again with her palms. “I want to be happy,” she said with sudden conviction.

Mother began processing the word, the emotion, running its meaning through her vast knowledgebase. Seeking an answer.

But there was none.

“None of us wanted this life,” Kyle said. “Always fighting. Always retreating.” He breathed deeply. “But we make our stand now, and it is a most noble fight. If we defeat the T'kaan this day, we will save three races from certain extinction.”

“And for the first time in history, defeat a T'kaan fleet. As well as live to tell the tale.” Mother's voice was crisp and animated. “I have tried to care for you the best I could. I have defeated many ships. I have won many battles—all for you.”

Kyle and Jaric smiled at each other.

“But I have tried to be more than your protector. And I have tried to be more than simply your teacher. I have attempted through all the knowledge of the human race stored in my memories...to be your parent. To be your Mother.”

“And you are,” Becky said quickly. “You are my mother. Our mother.”

Mother's sensors picked up a squadron of Hrono ships as they closed upon the rendezvous point in the Mewiis sector. Even as she began to answer Becky a few milliseconds later, she put her twelve main batteries into active mode as their twin barrels emerged from her hull.

“Like all mothers, I have tried to love you.” Silence punctuated her pause. “That is especially hard for me, an AI warship. So hard.” Again Mother paused. “I have tried to make you happy. But there is one thing in which I have failed you.”

“No! You have never failed us,” Jaric shouted.

Even stoic Kyle eyed the optics in disbelief as he brushed his fingers through his sandy locks.

“You are the best mother any child could ask for,” Kyle whispered, almost too low for the others to hear. But Mother always could.

“I have failed,” Mother's electronic voice answered. “Kyle, my oldest, is now almost twenty-one. Jaric and Becky are a few years younger. Your entire lives should be before you.”

“That is not your fault,” Becky said hoarsely.

“A parent should at the very least assist their offspring off to a good start in life. To give them skills, support; to prepare them to live out the rest of the years. Parents give life, something a machine such as I cannot do. But I should have at least made your life better.” Silence. “I did not do that.”

“My life is better,” Jaric said.

“And mine,” Kyle added.

“I have only taught you war,” Mother whispered.

Inside the warship, a sadness gripped everyone in the tiny family. An overwhelming feeling covered them and pressed in on them from every side.

“You had to,” Becky said, choking back her sobs. “Or we'd be dead now.”

Mother held that thought. She had done the best she could do. All she could now was hope it had been enough—because their greatest test was now before them at the gathering of fleets.

In that precious moment, she shared her near-term memories with her children.

The monitor nearest the children flashed to life with images of long ago; images of three young children running and playing through brightly lit corridors, playing games of hide and seek and games of tag. Long forgotten toys were crushed tight in their tiny embraces, and cherubic faces looked with wide, innocent smiles back at them from the consoles. There was laughter again, laughter and carefree joy in the faces that seemed so familiar, yet they were not.

The images seemed to be of another life, another time. The long years melted away and were relived together one more time.

Mother and her children were a happy family. One last time.

As Mother blacked out the last image, Jaric and Becky turned to leave, to be alone before the coming fight.

“One final item, my children,” Mother began. “As the fleets engage, stay near to me. I will protect you.”

A look of puzzlement came across Jaric's features as he turned to Becky. Becky, too, seemed surprised.

“We will,” Becky answered halfheartedly as she and Jaric turned and left the room.

Kyle alone stood in the Operations center, the heart of the great ship. This room was the place the children had always imagined Mother really lived, though now that they were young adults, they realized that she was the entire ship.

“After this is all over, we have to help Becky. You know, make her happy. A celebration maybe?” Kyle looked toward the optical viewer.

“A celebration,” Mother echoed. “A celebration party.”

“Yes.” A shadow crept over his face. “Protect them, Mother. Becky and Jaric,” Kyle said with a serious tone. “But there's no need to protect me, I'll take care of myself. Whatever happens, don't leave either of them vulnerable during the battle. Ever.”

“I will protect all my children,” Mother paused. “A good mother will gladly give her life for her children. I will protect you all.”

Kyle shook his head. “Don't be a hero for me. Those two should be happy, they deserve to be happy. Becky and Jaric have each other.” Kyle paused, fighting his burning emotions. “They will marry after this is all over. And maybe...maybe the advanced technology of the Hrono can bring the human race back to life, with them as the first parents. The parents of a new race of humanity.” Kyle looked down, a deep sadness etched on his face. “But there will never be anyone for me.”

“Do not feel loneliness, Kyle. We will begin our search for survivors again once this battle is over. There may have been others.” Mother paused. “Remember, the universe is a very large place,” Mother said.

Kyle straightened and began making his way to his fighter. He stopped at the optical viewer.

“I will protect myself, and I'll help you protect them. But under no circumstances are you to forsake their safety for mine. I order you,” Kyle said firmly. Under his breath, in whispered words so quiet that even Mother's sensitive microphones could not hear them, he spoke a final time. “There's no one for me.”

Mother remained silent as Kyle left the room. He had ignored her words about searching once again for any human survivors. She discerned from his expression, and from his silence, that he no longer believed in finding any survivors.

Mother's calculations agreed.

Still, her processors burned with activity. It did not feel right to Mother, but logic and fact spoke otherwise. Long seconds passed as she wrestled with cold logic and the warm concept of hope, and then a familiar voice came over the comm channel.

“You must remember that your life is also important, MotherShip.” Minstrel's voice echoed inside her circuits. “Protect yourself. And the precious memories of mankind.”

Mother's processors burned with activity.

“Ships from the Band Bahka have joined Sarn's battle group,” Commander Curja reported concisely.

“Good,” Rawlon said. “That completes the greatest fleet the Kraaqi have ever assembled. All the Bands fighting together again, under my command.” He motioned to his executive officer. The viewscreen came alive and displayed the massive armada: as far as the eye could see, an ocean of warships against the velvety blackness—Kraaqi, Hrono and Mewiis.

“This day will live in legend,” Rawlon said.

Curja approached the Admiral's chair and spoke in a lowered voice.

“I am still concerned with our left wing. It is true that the Mewiis have provided every ship that could fly. But so many are underarmed; traders and research vessels only recently refitted for battle.” Curja leaned closer. “I fear the T'kaan will sense this weakness early, and if they hammer the Mewiis’ fleet and break through the left wing, our rear will then be vulnerable.” Curja watched his Admiral intently. “We cannot be outflanked.”

“I have placed three Kraaqi battle groups in reserve just for that eventuality. The Mewiis are not a warrior race.” Rawlon stroked a horn in thought before he continued. “But they fight for their children. They will not be easily defeated.” The admiral's face grew grim. “But I do have a concern.” He turned to a junior officer. “Get me a comm link to Admiral Tarlog. At once!”

Rawlon leaned forward in his chair as he brushed his hands through the narrow black mane that ran over the top of his head and down his shoulders.

The main viewscreen came alive. The grim face of Tarlog, topped by the ridge of upturned scales that extended over the top of his hairless head, gazed sternly back at the Kraaqi Admiral.

“Report, Rawlon. And be quick. I must place my formations into their final positions.” The Hrono's eyes burned with impatience. “In accordance to
our
plan of battle.”

“And that of the MotherShip,” Rawlon growled.

“Yes,” the Hrono admiral snorted

Rawlon sat down, his posture one of relaxation in his commander's chair. “Look at your viewscreen, Admiral Tarlog. Look closely.” Rawlon pointed. “Gaze at the center of the greatest battle line the universe has ever witnessed.” Rawlon eyed the image carefully. “See the courage and valor of Kraaqi. All Bands have answered the call—all ships are battle ready. Over one thousand warships, and twice that of fighters.” The taloned finger pointed at the Hrono like a weapon. “But where is the rest of the Hrono fleet? Do we see again the treachery of Hrono here, on this Day of Days?”

A nervous tic began in the etched corner of Tarlog's scaly face. Raising a hand over his mouth, the Hrono admiral whispered to the aide standing beside him, eliciting a wolfish smile from the younger officer. Tarlog turned back to face Rawlon.

“The Hrono keep their word—our ships will come. We do not practice treachery as an art form as do the Kraaqi,” Tarlog said.

Rawlon was instantly on his feet. Curja reached over and quickly grabbed Rawlon's arm, holding him fast as he reached out at the taunting visage with his fist.

“I am not the enemy. Not today,” Tarlog reminded them.

Rawlon's eyes narrowed. He nodded at his aide, who then released his arm.

“We must both remember that fact—I as much as you.” Rawlon nodded silently to himself. “Come, today makes history for another reason—Kraaqi and Hrono fight together for the first time in history. Our mutual enemy even now draws close.”

The Hrono admiral's eyes seemed to look past the Kraaqi, and then his eyes refocused back.

“Yes, we are allies.” Tarlog paused. “What is your request, Admiral?” He asked with military bearing.

Rawlon turned and sat again in his chair, his muscular arms resting casually across it.

“Where is the rest of your fleet, Tarlog?” Rawlon asked firmly.

The Hrono leader did not hesitate. “They are in a reserve position...within attack distance.”

Rawlon's eyes narrowed. “Where is the famed Home Fleet? Is it still around the Hrono home world?”

The Hrono commander stood slowly and stepped closer until only his face filled the viewscreen, hiding the rest of the Hrono battle cruiser's bridge.

“They are in position—in reserve. The Hrono will hold the right wing of the battleline. Don't worry.” Tarlog smiled. “You must remember, my Kraaqi friend, that though we do not build our warships on the same scale as you, our smaller ships are better armed with superior technology and speed. Though unseen, they are close enough to strike. Trust my judgment, and the technology of Hrono.” Tarlog chuckled under his breath. “Our technology has always ensured our superiority.”

“We know that you worship your technology, you godless Hrono,” Rawlon countered. “But it has never enabled you to defeat the warriors of Kraaqi.” Rawlon pointed his taloned finger again at the Hrono. “Just make sure that when I call for the Home Fleet, that they are there when I need them.. The MotherShip has estimated that all ships of the Three Kingdoms are needed, just to equal the T'kaan Third. And remember...Rawlon is still the appointed commander of this assembled fleet.” He stared, defying the Hrono to counter.