Galactic Vigilante (Vigilante Series 3) (38 page)

Outside in normal space-time, thirty-seven
kamikaze
asteroids vanished into blue-white vapor as 1,206 antimatter beams reached them.

“Translation!” said Mata Hari even as BattleMind snarled at losing the chance to shoot more antimatter beams.

“
One millisecond,
s
even nanoseconds, 96 picoseconds and 19 femtoseconds
.”

They repeated the Stepwise Translation move four more times before the last of the 100
kamikaze
asteroids were vaporized. They were nearing a full second since arrival of Ocean Fleet and Hexagon Prime. He felt the anger of Eliana, George, Suzanne, Rafael, Toktaleen, Flowering and Sarah over the loss of four AI minds from Ocean Fleet. He felt the mind shock of Gatekeeper, who was preparing shuttle
Ariadne
for action against the slaver ships once
Mata Hari
made it through the battleglobe blockade. He felt his own anger. His own emotions. That would not do.

“Stepwise Translate to the far side of
the base, opposite our arrival vector, and down slightly on arrival vector!” he said urgently to his 503 AI mindpartners.

“Firing!” cried Mata Hari and BattleMind as a the second shell of battleglobes took form before them, lying just twenty thousand kilometers from their exit point.

Matt grimaced, wishing he could Translate directly into the open space beside Yorkel’s battleglobe, which even now moved on Repulsor power on a new vector to avoid a predictable location. In his mind, thousands of tachlink Remotes fed him real-time position reports on the slaver ships, the confusion of organic minds aboard the nine hundred habitat globes, the movements of the Courier ships and Supply Tubes, which seemed to move in partnership with the battleglobes. Why? Did the Couriers and Supply Tubes also carry a nasty surprise? Better to destroy them whenever they came in range. Vaporization was better than interrogation.

Yorkel
reeled with the impact of losing fifty-three battleglobes in less than a second. How? How could this Human have a fleet of 507 Dreadnoughts? He felt nausea pheromones as his fellow Brokeet crewmates reacted with dismay to the visual images displayed on their holos, while those in neurolink with
Defiant’s
weapons systems only now realized the impact of antimatter beams against the outer shell of battleglobes. In his mind the ship’s AI spoke since mindlink was faster than audible sound.

“Four T’Chak warships have been destroyed by Translation attacks,” it said in calm click-speech.

“What of—”

His mind picture of the space about the base and his defense lines changed suddenly as the grey smudges that denoted warships under Alcubierre field protection suddenly vanished, leaving only the blue-white explosion images of four successful Translation strikes.

The bad news was that thirty-seven assault asteroids became blue-white explosions as black antimatter beams and a few megawatt laser beams impacted and destroyed them. Just before the enemy ships went into Translation. He had spent much effort over the last week in adding Translation engines, NavComputers and gravity wave sensors to a hundred asteroids, each the size of a Courier ship. He had thought that since the Human Dragoneaux would be focused on combating attacks by thermonuke sleds he might miss the sudden energy activation of the assault asteroids.

“Opponents have Translated as
a group to . . . new positions a light-second away,” said the AI, matching what his mind already knew from tachlink sensorRemotes and hull detectors. “New Translation attacks initiating.”

There were no more blue-white explosions
of T’Chak warships as the enemy fired on the new space-time locations of the mobile asteroids. Forty-one assault asteroids flared into blue-white vapor as the T’Chak fleet fired more than a thousand antimatter beams at them. A chill came over Yorkel’s mind as, in less than a second, the enemy warships Translated two more times to new space-time positions, each time coming closer to the spacebase and his two remaining shells of battleglobes. More assault asteroids vanished under fire. Until their number was zero.

“Guidance,” called
Defiant’s
AI as the last of the assault asteroids vanished under fire from the deadly T’Chak Dreadnoughts. “Disperse battleglobes? Fire mining lasers? Move—”

“Translate the Supply Tubes against the new positions of the enemy fleet!”
he said, while advising fellow ship captains to maintain vector movement and then fire at the vector of any new gravity wave pulses.

“Translating.”

Matt’s mind shook under the impact of 503 ship minds conducting Stepwise Translation maneuvers, emitting antimatter beam attacks, then Translating again a half light second away to a new position. This was their third relocation in less than a second. All around him space flared with colorful laser beams, black antimatter beams, sensor explosions and the infrared heat echoes of destroyed
kamikaze
asteroids. What next?

“
Two seconds, 900 milliseconds, 94 nanoseconds, six picoseconds and four femtoseconds
,” said his cyberclock implant.

“Matthew, the Supply Tubes are—
”

He thought a single word. There was no hesitation caused by his physical body this time. In fact, his only physical body was the ship
Mata Hari
and its millions of components and data flows.

“Translate!”

His ship and 502 other warships blinked out of one space-time and into another location that lay at south ecliptic to the Intelligence base. The middle shell of Anarchate battleglobes loomed within nine thousand kilometers.

“Fire!”

Antimatter beams surged out from the six antimatter cannons on his ship’s two wings, while red dragon eyes shot megawatt laser beams at three oncoming thermonuke sleds. The four hundred and six directed energy blisters on the armored spine and sides of his dragon ship also spat out laser spears at the sensorRemotes, tachRemotes, Hunter-Killer missiles and Offense sleds that lay within range. Nearby T’Chak ships did the same as he did. Every target he aimed at was hit by three or more beams, while the nearby battleglobes came under at least six antimatter beams per battleglobe.

Blue-white bursts of metallic vapor and starlight documented Yorkel’
s loss of fifty-one more battleglobes as three barrages of antimatter fire evaporated most of his middle shell and finished off the remnants of the outer shell. The shimmer of Translation by some of Yorkel’s other ships hit his mind.

“Matthew!” cried Eliana over
mindlink. “Translate again! Yorkel is sending Supply Tubes loaded with—”

Grey space-time occupied Matt’s mind as every ship of the fleet Translated once more, again in a stepwise pr
ogression coordinated by the 503 ship AIs who were always in tachlink communion. Black space flared in his mind’s-eye even as nearby explosions brightened his perception. His mind felt only 502 ship AIs now shared his mind. Counting his own Mata Hari and his Hexagon Prime allies.

“—antimatter!” cried Eliana.

Fourteen Supply Tubes, lying outside the first defense shell of Yorkel, had entered Translation, aiming for a similar
kamikaze
attack on the gravity wave pulse coordinates of Ocean Fleet. One of them had hit a fleet ship before it entered Translation. The other thirteen ships were now being fired upon at their new locations, since his fleet could track gravity wave pulses as accurately as Yorkel could.

“
Three seconds, 140 hundred milliseconds, 26 nanoseconds, 19 picoseconds and 60 femtoseconds
.”

Sourness filled Matt’s mind. They had lost five T’Chak AI minds! With the earlier loss of Ocean, that made six unique AI mentalities
who no longer existed. How would he feel if Rafael and his BattleMate vanished? Or Sarah and her Imperial? There was only one answer to stopping further losses even as Yorkel’s fleet dropped to seventeen battleglobes in the inner ring.

“Mata Hari, Translate to beside Yorkel’s battleglobe!”

Yorkel felt emptiness fill his abdomen, even as
Defiant’s
AI told him over neurolink that the Supply Tubes attack had killed one more T’Chak warship. He had lost one hundred forty-three battleglobes, every Supply Tube and all the attack Courier ships that had tried similar Translation assaults on the T’Chak ships. This Translation jumping by the Human’s fleet to new space-time locations within less than a second of real-time was something his fleet could not do. Or their remnants could not do. He must face this Dragoneaux as the Human attempted to capture the genome harvester ships and the captives inside. But what could he do next? He had no preset tactical plan for this degree of losses.

“Firing,” cried Chief Lark from his
Tactical Cluster.

In his mind, black antimatter beams reached out from his ship’s north and south polar AM stations, impacting on the grey Alcubierre fields of three nearby T’Chak ships. The ships lay within grey ovals that could not be penetrated by his weapons. All the thermonuke sleds had been destroyed short seconds earlier. And no more Translation attacks were possible unless ships with living crews volunteered to sacrifice themselves.

“They have Translated again!” hooted Malel from his circle of touchpanels and holo pedestals.

His ship had not stopped vibrating from hundreds of consecutive gravity wave pulses since the arrival of the Human’s incredible fleet. His crew were loyal, fighting hard but they had perceived the near destruction of his fleet from their Offense stations. What more could he do? Did his ally Chai have an answer? An answer that could save them before every Anarchate ship was vaporized? And why was that hyper
-fast Courier ship beside the Command Node of Brrzeet activating its fusion pulse stardrive? His ship sensors had detected a surge in neutrino emissions which said the Courier was coming alive. Why?

“Sector Captain!” cried Malel.
“The enemy is here!”

Inside
his neurolinked mind came the image of a black-hulled and two-winged T’Chak warship, its skin erupting with hundreds of laser strikes and six black antimatter beams that reached past him to impact nearby battleglobes. The real-light image vanished to be replaced by the greyness of Alcubierre space-time shields. Who? What? Why?

Something filled him with a sense of timelessness. A sense of existing outside of time. A sense that even though he could not move, nor could his thoughts affect the instrumentalities of
Defiant
, still, he lived. Somewhere. Somehow.

# # #

Matt fired the Stasis Beam at Yorkel’s battleglobe even as the Brokeet’s ship fired laser and antimatter beams at more distant Dreadnoughts.
Those beams missed his
Mata Hari
. His beam, gift of the mysterious Bogean Harmony aliens, did not miss. The steel grey surface of Yorkel’s battleglobe fell silent as every living occupant went into stasis hibernation. He yelled to Mata Hari.

“Get some limpet complinks over there quickly! Before the ship’s central AI can destroy itself. Remember what the Bogeans said happened when they fired on Anarchate ships?”

“They
are
attached!” she said in his mind. “From our first arrival in stealth. Once I learned from the base datanet which battleglobe held Yorkel, I sent several complinks toward his ship. Two made it. Even now they are overriding the ‘destroy if no lifeforms register as living’ order encoded into the AI’s algorithms.”

Relief filled Matt’s mind even as another part of his mind reported a fall-off in battleglobe counterfire now that the fleet’s captain and ship AI no longer communicated with other Anarchate craft. Good! He held onto
an inner hope of a stop in violence.

Then
Suzanne appeared in his mind, her expression worried. “Matthew, I precog that High Commander Brrzeet is planning something deadly! And Commander Chai is seeking to contact Yorkel. Now is the time for you and George to launch your combat suits if you wish to rescue the slaver captives and capture Chai.”

Matt stayed in
ocean-time
even as George’s bearded face filled his mindscape. “Now, Matt? We will lose our
ocean-time
advantage.”

“Not in thin
king,” he said as he mentally ordered Suit to walk over to him. “Be ready to take over fleet linkage when I disconnect from the Pit fiber optic cable. When I reconnect inside Suit I’ll take it back. Won’t take more than a half second for cable neurolink.”

“
Four seconds, 64 milliseconds, 12 nanoseconds, 17 picoseconds and 53 femtoseconds
.”

Matt wondered what deadly surprise Brrzeet was about to unveil, even as he
mind imaged Chai standing before a holo pedestal in Globe 841. Four of his staff were running for the vacsuit storage near the entry hatch, while Chai and another alien were waving hands and manipulators through multiple holos, clearly trying to contact someone. Or several someones.

Soon, he would know. With a last thought just before losing Pit linkage he told his battlemate what needed to be done.