At first, nothing happened. The shells had to fly out. Soon, though, jumpfighters began to explode.
The survivors jinked harder. Two-thirds armed their torpedoes and launched. The planet-killer’s targeting AI fixed on the hotly burning streaks. The next proximity shell salvos blew apart every one of them.
“This ain’t working,” Lieutenant Hawks radioed. “I’m folding right next to the bastard. Let’s see if he can stop that.”
Hawks’ jumpfighter disappeared, shells bursting where it had been. It reappeared five hundred meters from the hull. He launched the antimatter torpedo. Two seconds later, a proximity shell destroyed his fighter.
Then, the antimatter warhead struck the ancient hull and ignited. A terrific explosion shattered the integrity of the armor, blowing off neutroium pieces. Incredibly, it opened a breach. Alien atmosphere blew second after second into space. Something that glimmered sealed the hull thirty seconds later.
By that time, another antimatter torpedo ignited against the alien neutroium. It blew off a plate but failed to rupture the hull into the interior.
The rail-guns fired a blizzard of proximity shells. Amidst that, five more jumpfighters closed the distance, launching their torpedoes. Only two hit, blowing away more neutroium. The other three torpedoes disintegrated under the hail of proximity shells.
Then, the last jumpfighter near the doomsday machine died, more debris in space.
Twenty-three of the tin cans returned to their respective motherships. The rest would never come home, having sacrificed themselves in the hope of stopping Earth’s doom.
The giant planet-killer soon passed the last of the debris. It bore four wounds, but remorselessly continued for Earth just the same.
On Bull Run, Admiral Cook despaired. The Jumpfighter Commodore had other ideas, sitting down with his tactical heads to figure out how to make the next run more efficient.
***
Aboard Starship Victory, Galyan showed a close-up of the damage.
“I don’t believe this,” Valerie said. “The admiral actually wounded the ancient monster.”
“I am duly impressed,” Galyan said. “I did not think such a thing was possible.”
“It hasn’t stopped the planet-killer, though.”
“Indeed not,” Galyan said. “But I submit to you that now the admiral has a location to fire his beams. If he can target one of the four hull breaches, he can pour fire into the ancient killer and possibly chew up the insides.”
Valerie clapped her hands. “In other words, we have a fighting chance.”
“Correction,” the AI said. “Star Watch’s Home Fleet now has a miniscule chance of damaging the great machine. But that is better than none at all.”
“Let me ask you, Galyan. Now that Earth has a chance, as miniscule as it is, are you joining the fleet with a frontal assault?”
Galyan took his time answering. “The Lord High Admiral pulled off a miracle. Maybe there are more to come. Maybe faith has its place in the world of hard reality. I will most certainly join the assault to save my friends’ homeworld.”
Valerie nodded, excited by the success. She wondered, though, if the four antimatter torpedoes had hurt or helped Captain Maddox and the others inside the doomsday machine.
-41-
Meta stumbled after Kane and Oran Rva. She was exhausted, the sound of her panting reverberating in her helmet. She hated this place with its eerie walls, spongy deck and crystalline architecture. The interior of the doomsday machine didn’t feel like a technological device, but like an alien place filled with crystalline fungus. Normal fungus would be wet. These substances felt as if they didn’t belong to the same natural universe that Meta did.
I shouldn’t be here. It’s watching, waiting for me to weaken.
Meta hurried. She’d fallen behind again. The closer she was to Oran Rva, the less these feelings invaded her thoughts.
She passed spires and heaps of what looked like massed coral. Mechanisms whirred in the crystal and odd patterns of lights flickered in the coral like firing neurons in a brain.
The excess Gs weighed down her muscles. Meta wasn’t used to that anymore. Her chest was actually sore from breathing.
Finally, she came within the magic radius. Oran Rva held up a silver ball. Every so often, it pulsed, sending out flickering blue lines of radiance. The length of those lines had lessened. They used to flicker beyond the dim lighting into the shadows. Now, they didn’t go as far.
The New Man inspected the silver ball. “This is more draining than I thought it would be.”
What did that mean?
She tightened her grip on a spring-driven rifle, brought along expressly for the doomsday machine. It shot thumbnail-sized, razor-sharp metal cones, each magazine holding twenty rounds. There could hardly be a simpler weapon except for the knife at her side, perhaps.
A small part of the Rouen Colony assassin would have liked to aim the rifle at Oran Rva’s back and cut him down. A mental block kept her from lifting the weapon against him. Instead, she waited for the New Man to give his next order.
Just then, the deck shivered, and Meta stumbled, pressing a knee into the spongy substance. An eerie groan from the doomsday machine penetrated her helmet.
What was that? What had just happened? She hated those noises.
Oran Rva halted and looked up. The sound repeated three more times. Each time, Meta flinched, expecting something even more terrible to happen.
After a while, the groaning stopped. Finally, Oran Rva shrugged. Once more, he led the way. The New Man strode with purpose. Like them, he wore an armored vacc-suit.
They moved through a vast chamber. A dim, diffused light provided illumination. It seemed to come from the polygonal shapes on the walls. At random locations, huge pits glowed darkly, seeming to suck away light. Heat billowed from the pits. Some kind of force field must have kept the… What was the blackness, anti-energy? Something kept the heat from consuming them.
“Why is this place so strange?” Meta whispered to Kane via a shortwave helmet hookup.
The big man looked back at her. Kane’s eyes were wide and staring. Oran Rva had done something to Kane’s mind. Meta had begun to resent that.
“Halt,” Oran Rva said.
Meta looked up.
“My stressor is nearly drained,” the New Man said. “I must let it recharge a moment.” With a deft move, he clicked the silver ball and put it into something metallic in his pouch.
An unseen force seemed to rush in and push against Meta’s mind, causing greater unease. What did the commander’s stressor do? Why couldn’t he explain for once what was going on?
As if complying with her wish, the New Man said, “Many of the interior sequences are automatic.” He paused, perhaps rethinking his statement. “They’re more accurately called responses. I don’t know if the ship will release a defense now or come to inspect and analyze us with a monitor.”
Meta found herself trembling as the oppressive force made her eyelids heavy. How did the ship do that to her? What had the stressor done to combat it?
“Kane, Meta, ready your rifles.”
Meta stared at the New Man, marveling at his composure. Oran Rva glanced back at her. Through his visor, his lean features showed a placid, golden face, although the eyes were like inky fires. How could he remain so calm in the belly of the beast?
She determined to do likewise, refusing to let fear overcome her.
“Excellent,” the New Man said. “You show rare courage in a dreadful place. Clearly, you are superior to the cattle of Earth and a tribute to our initial breeding program.”
Odd croaking sounds floated through the air.
Oran Rva turned, staring into the chamber’s depths. “Something comes.”
Fear loomed in Meta. She ignored it, raising her rifle. Beside her, Kane did likewise with his.