Nova Wars

"You cannot prevail. We have you outnumbered, we have the geometry, and you have no support as you are a single ship." - Mar-gite Command Structure

"Come, let us lock bladearms. There is room in this grave for you." - Commander N'Skrek, Task Force Lonely Peach, Third Mar-gite War, Point Ticonderoga

Luke had his feet up on the table, the chair tipped as far back as he could get it without tipping over. He held a full drink in one hand, a cigarette in his mouth, and a big grin on his face.

"All hands, realspace re-entry and jumpshock in four minutes," came over the PA.

His grin got wider.

Then vanished as he heard the familiar tapping of certain shoes.

"Luke, Luke," Sacajawea said, running around to the front of the table.

"What?" Luke asked, frowning.

"The Captain. The course he has us set on," Sacajawea said, wringing her hands.

"What about it?" Luke asked, taking a drag off the cigarette and blowing out smoke rings.

"It's nothing but death and destruction. Hundreds, thousands of people are going to die. There will be massive destruction, some much destruction," she moaned out.

"All hands, all hands, realspace re-entry and jumpshock in three minutes," came over the PA.

"Yup," Luke said. He took another drag and exhaled more smoke rings in another direction.

"Luke, you have to stop him. If he just stays in jumpspace for a few more hours, there's no death and destruction," Sacajawea said. She put her hands on the table. "You have to convince him not to drop out of jumpspace at his target. Thousands will die."

Legion inhaled slowly and exhaled smoke, staring at the human woman in front of him.

"We know," he said.

"You must convince him not to leave jumpspace. Once he does, there is no probability where thousands do not die, where destruction doesn't happen," Sacajawea said.

Legion blinked and a half dozen more of him appeared, all of them sitting down, putting their feet down, and lighting cigarettes.

"He knows. I know," Legion said. He took a drag. "We all know."

"All hands, all hands, realspace entry and jumpshock in two minutes," came the voice over the PA.

Legion motioned at the speaker. "You might want to get ready."

"Virtual Intelligence and Digital Sentience reports jumpshock lockdown. All non-critical systems are ordered to local manual control," came over the PA.

"You have to convince him!" Sacajawea said.

Legion stared at her.

"No."

"All non-critical systems on lockdown. All critical systems ready for backup and reboot," Commander Fenntrick said from where she was manning the DCC Master Control Board.

Captain N'Skrek nodded from where he was standing on the Show Bridge.

He knew he should be at the Primary Battle Bridge, but there was something about standing on the Show Bridge. The reinforced layered transparent battlesteel windows, currently showing the streaks and swirling sparkling fog of jumpspace. The heavily reinforced battle stations. The armored back chairs. The heavy deck plating.

The brutalistic, no-frills design felt right to the huge Treana'ad warrior as he stood in front of the Captain's Throne in his armored vac-suit, the faceplate retracted and a cigarette in his mouth.

"All hands, all hands, prepare for realspace re-entry and jumpshock," sounded over the PA.

"Execute," Captain N'Skrek said.

The command was relayed even as Commander Jas'Skrek reached out and grabbed the brushed steel lever, pulling it toward him.

"BRACE FOR IT!" N'Skrek roared out, aware his voice was carried by the PA.

It wasn't Confederate Space Force SOP, but then, nothing about Task Force Lonely Peach's mission was SOP.

There was a whanging sound from deep in the ship and the sound of a magnetic engine winding down.

Everything went flat, like N'Skrek was facing a painting. He was suddenly thrown forward into it and it shattered like glass around him, the pieces rotating and tumbling through space even though they didn't move.

Legion felt himself thrown backwards, the chair almost kicked out from under him. His beer flew out of his hand, spinning, foam spraying from the bottle. Over a dozen of him repeated it, some curling and rolling, others spreading their arms out.

Four of him were laughing.

Sacajawea screamed, her hands raising.

Everything went flat.

Legion felt himself thrown against the painting, the glass shattering, scattering reality around him.

He was laughing with glee.

All of him snapped back at once, and he hit the deck on his ass.

He was still holding a beer even as a half dozen bottles hit the deck and bounced, spraying foam.

Sacajawea looked up from where she'd fallen, fear filling her eyes.

"Death. All probabilities are full of death."

Legion just laughed.

N'Skrek saw the pieces suddenly shatter into glitter, swarming around him, and he was through.

He came out the other side on his feet.

They had dropped close enough to the Mar-gite Jump Charging Array that he could see it with the naked eye through the windows of the Show Bridge.

Sparks shot from deactivated consoles. One exploded and a midshipman ran forward with a replacement board even as the crewmember manning it picked themselves up from the floor, spitting out a wad of cotton candy onto the floor.

"Grav detectors up and running! Mass detectors online!" Sensors called out.

"CONTACTS! MANY MANY CONTACTS!" Lieutenant JG Wentworth called out from Tactical. "We're being locked up!"

"Execute countermeasures!" N'Skrek snapped. He tapped the button on the side of the wireless mic he was holding. "Weapon stations, local control."

"Sixty percent of weapon stations reporting ready, sir!" Tactical called out.

"Sensors clearing!" Scanning called.

"Steam catapults launching Fruit Flies. Eighteen percent away!" Flight Operations called out.

"OPEN FIRE!" N'Skrek roared out.

He heard his voice repeated over the PA system, the copper wire carrying his voice through the massive ship as the analogue backups picked up the task from the stunned smartwires.

"Realspace entry confirmed! All hands accounted for! Multiple anomalous Terran signatures identified as Legion, nine identified," called out Commander Dulmarch from the newly christened station. "No Mar-gite or other unknown signatures."

N'Skrek nodded, watching the small streaks of light whip away from the bulk of the Gray Lady. He could see dozens of pinpricks nearby and knew they were enemy ships.

"Guns online at local control. Fire permission granted!" Tactical called out.

The ship started shuddering slightly and he could feel the ghostly plucking of C+ cannons firing.

Legion stood up, smiling, moving up and looking down at Sacajawea.

"We know this path leads to death and destruction, little sister," he grinned. "That's the point of it. Don't you understand?"

"But we could all die! So much death, so much destruction. I can even read our own deaths in probability," she said, looking up. Tears were running down her face. "Please, can't you take me away from here? Can't we go elsewhere, Luke?"

Legion shook his head. "Why would I want to be somewhere else, little sister?" he asked. Sparks danced across his teeth as his smile got wider. "This is humanity, little sister. This is the gift we have brought into the malevolent universe for all of our allies, all of those arrayed against us."

The ghostly plucking started and Sacajawea cried out.

"It's the gift we bring our enemies," Legion smiled. "Who only exist to be destroyed."

Sacajawea flinched back as he bent down, holding his hand out to her. "Stand on your feet, little sister. The day of you discovering your true purpose, to learn to use your gift properly, is nigh," he smiled.

She flinched back, tried to pull her hand away, but he grabbed her anyway and yanked her to her feet.

"Stand on your feet, little sister," he said, pulling her close and looking down at her. "No matter probability it is that comes to pass, stand on your feet, look the malevolent universe in the eye, and spit your defiance into death's face."

"Secondary battlescreens spinning up," N'Skrek heard.

He was paying no mind, staring at the holotank, with was still fuzzy and streaked with static, the red and silver showing what even his eyes could see.

The Gray Lady was surrounded. Dozens, hundreds of the shining silver ships. Thirty of the big Mar-gite Cluster Charging Constructs.

Hundreds of Mar-gite Clusters.

The Mar-gite Clusters were too far away, light hours from the Gray Lady, but the silver ships were close, some within a light second or less.

N'Skrek got that tickle, that feeling, down his upper spine.

"BRACE FOR IT!" He roared out.

"Flash flash flash," sounded over the PA. "All hands, prepare for..."

The world went bright white. It cleared for a split second, then happened again, stuttering, strobing.

"You one trick show ponies," N'Skrek snarled as his vision cleared.

"Systems still on local control," Commodore Vertain called out. "No loss of control!"

"Fruit Flies away! Seventy-six percent confirmed. All Fruit Flies confirm still in control."

N'Skrek nodded.

"Sir, Legion is requesting permission to join you on the Show Bridge," Lieutenant Rawkrawr said.

N'Skrek glanced at where Legion was standing by one of the consoles. The bald lean human just nodded.

"Granted," N'Skrek said, returning the nod.

There was another flash, this one seeming almost feeble in response.

N'Skrek just sneered.

The battle screens were flickering, intercepting incoming fire. N'Skrek looked over at the Tactical Defense Systems Officer's screens and saw data scrolling up. It wasn't the lightning fast of modern molycircs, but it was still scrolling.

Every shot you make gives us data on your weapon systems. We will find out how to either mitigate the damage, negate it, or use it our advantage, he thought to himself. You, however, will only know destruction.

The lift doors opened and N'Skrek heard a Terran woman protesting loudly. He didn't bother to turn and look, merely focused on the holotank.

"No! Let me go! Let me go! I don't want to see!" the Terran woman was saying.

Legion, three of him, were dragging her onto the Show Bridge.

"You need to learn, little sister," Legion was saying. "And school is in session."

"There are no probabilities that do not end in death and destruction," the Terran woman yelled.

"Excellent," N'Skrek said, without turning around.

"Targeting solutions are green. Repeat, targeting solutions on the Mar-gite Charging Constructs are green," Tactical called out.

"Excellent," N'Skrek said softly. He smiled. "You may fire at will."

"All Fruit Flies away," Flight Ops said.

N'Skrek just nodded.

He watched in the holotank as the nearest of the silvery ships started shattering or being covered by the purple X of mission kill. Missiles were being launched from the Gray Lady, shrieking through space.

A small creature made of static, a short squat biped with a square head, white eyes and gnashing fangs, popped into the holotank. It jumped up and down, pointing at the cluster of silver ships being represented by diamonds.

"Yes, yes. Shoo," N'Skrek said, motioning at the edge of the tank. "Go find a missile."

The little creature gibbered silently and ran off.

Legion dragged Sacajawea up to the holotank, the one of him behind her holding his hand over her mouth, the other two holding her arms.

"Technically, what I am witnessing is assault," N'Skrek said, staring at the holotank.

"Then don't look," Legion snapped. He grabbed her hair and pushed her head forward. "Look at it. I know you know how to read it. Daxin taught all of us and you used what he taught you to run."

She struggled slightly.

"I don't have to coddle you like Menhit coddled me," Legion snapped. "Instead, I'll coddle you in the same way the Detainee coddles those in her care."

She quit struggling, staring, her eyes wide.

Legion let go of her mouth. "Do not shout. Do not speak, just merely watch. Watch as the battle plays out."

"I will not take advice from a civilian observer, no matter what her supposed powers are and no matter who granted them to her," N'Skrek said. He looked at the version of Legion standing by the console, who was staring down at the screen. "A Confederate Lord Admiral of the Warsteel is one I will take advice when I ask for consultation."

He looked at Sacajawea.

"But only when I ask, and the final judgement is mine," he said coldly.

Sacajawea swallowed, trying to look away from the holotank but unable to as Legion held her hair tightly.

"No more running, little sister," Legion said softly.

On the holotank, the Fruit Flies sped for the enemy, C+ cannon impacts were causing ships to break up, missiles were howling in on their terminal approaches on the huge mega-constructs. Outside the Show Bridge the battlescreens flared and rippled, still mostly transparent.

Legion grinned at her from three different points.

"No more running."