Christopher Nuttall

STORMING HEAVEN

(War of the Gods)

Prologue

For Once-Captain Tabitha Cunningham, the dream was always the same.

She was on the observation deck of her spacecraft, the massive bridge ship Endeavour, as it started to rock violently. They were midway between Earth and the Ceres Asteroid Colony, millions of kilometres from anything that could have threatened her ship, safe in the vastness of interstellar space. The political situation down on Earth might have been heating up again, as the Russian Confederacy and the Chinese Hegemony confronted the Atlantic Alliance, but no one would have taken a shot at a Bridge Ship. Only wreckers — terrorists — would have dreamed of harming the ultimate symbol of man’s achievements in space… and no terrorist could have penetrated the security blanket protecting the ships. They should have been safe.

The ship rocked again as she stumbled onto the bridge. “Report,” she gasped, unable to understand what was happening. Endeavour was rocking like a boat out at sea, caught up in a tidal wave, yet there were no tidal waves in space. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” her first officer said. Colin Hastings was young for his position, but out in interplanetary space, there should have been nothing that could have threatened them, or forced them to act quickly. “There’s no damage; the ship…”

A final wave struck the spacecraft as new alarms sounded, reporting the build-up of weird energy patterns in space, far too close for comfort. Tabitha’s eyes snapped towards sensors she never expected to have to use — military-grade sensors intended to watch for possible tracking radars and incoming missiles — to see a massive source of energy shimmer into existence. It struck her, suddenly, that the… event was producing gravity waves as well, and it had been the gravity waves that had rocked her ship. The event wasn’t natural — it couldn’t be natural — but if that was the case, then who was behind it?

She ignored the increasingly frantic calls coming in from all departments of her ship and pulled up the images from the ship’s telescopes. The wave of energy was visible even at their distance, a boiling mass of space that, even as she watched, was drawing into a funnel. It was already large enough to swallow Endeavour and her sister ships and it was still growing. She saw, with a sudden frisson of pure excitement, stars at the rear of the funnel that bore no resemblance to stars seen from Earth, but before she could articulate what that meant she saw the starship appear.

It was massive, fifty kilometres long if it were a kilometre, large enough to utterly dwarf everything that humanity had put into space. It looked like nothing less than a massive iceberg, pointed right at Earth, glittering with strange lights and weird power fluctuations. It was impossible, yet it was in front of her; it was beyond her comprehension. It was almost impossible to grasp the sheer size of the starship.

It was terrifying.

It was as alien as hell.

“First contact,” Tabitha breathed, feeling excitement, yet disappointment — and terror. What value did Endeavour have compared to the behemoth that was closing its wormhole behind it and was advancing steadily towards Earth? What was the human race to the people who had built that massive ship? Were they friends, or would they see humanity as nothing more than ants crawling around their feet? She wished, with all her heart, that she was in Earth orbit to meet the aliens, yet she also wished that she had died before she saw their arrival. The galaxy, the galaxy that humanity had barely touched, was already taken. Nothing would ever been the same again.

The alien starship ignored all attempts to communicate with it as it closed in on Earth. It ignored pleading messages from one political faction or another. It ignored the UN’s attempt to greet it in the name of Earth. It ignored offers of friendship and military alliance, pleas and supplications, promises and threats, choosing instead to maintain its ponderous approach. Despite its size, it was moving far faster than Tabitha’s ship, seemingly unconcerned with the laws of physics, as humanity knew them. It slid past the moon’s orbit, past the L4 and L5 colonies, and seemed to pause, only a few thousand kilometres from Earth itself. There was a sudden jump in power…

…And a white streak of light flashed from the alien starship towards Earth. Tabitha watched in horror as the pulse came down somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, sending great gallows of vaporised water into the atmosphere and causing tidal waves all across the planet. The second came down in Europe, detonating with the force of a thousand atomic bombs; the third came down in China. Pulse followed pulse — the Middle East, North America, Russia, Antarctica and countless more — until the entire planetary ecosystem had been thoroughly destroyed. The orbiting defences, designed to stop missiles rather than alien attack, could do nothing. The alien ship was sitting well outside their range.

Her view changed as the firestorms raged across the planet. She was no longer on her ship, but standing on the surface, watching her friends and family, her country and her planet, burning away under the alien bombardment. She was untouched by waves of fire that eradicated cities and continents, wiping the human race out of existence. She could hear the sound of nine billion people crying out in agony as they died, smell their burning flesh as they burned, feel their hands desperately grabbing at her for a safety she couldn’t offer them. Again, she watched her planet die…

And she was floating in space, watching the alien craft completing its task and slowly moving away from the planet, ignoring the orbital habitats and the remains of the human race. It seemed to pause, just long enough to look on its work and find it good, before it opened up the wormhole again and vanished, leaving a dead world behind. On the surface, the planet was still burning.

And then she woke up, screaming.

Chapter One

“We have entered the system,” the AI said. “Awaken.”

Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi came awake as her bio-implants pushed stimulants and refreshers into her bloodstream. For a long moment, she stared around in confusion, before remembering where she was — and why she’d been in hibernation. The tiny scout ship, so small and insignificant that no one had bothered to give it or its AI a name, was approaching a Killer star system. In theory, even the Killers would be unable to detect her presence. The tiny ship had been stealthed completely, using the most advanced human technology, but no one knew just how the Killers did what they did. Her probe into their space might end with her death at their hands.

“I’m awake,” she slurred, as she pulled herself upright in the command chair. Her mouth tasted bad despite the best efforts of her implants and her enhanced genetics, so she washed it out with a glass of recycled water. She called up a reflector field and winced at her face. Her oriental features looked tired and drawn. “Report.”

“Passive sensors are detecting traces of Killer activity,” the AI reported, its voice as dispassionate as ever. No one programmed a scout ship AI to show emotion. “Optical observation confirms the presence of a major Killer base. We are flying right through the heart of their territory.”

“And it all seemed so easy back when the Admiral was briefing us,” Chiyo muttered, peering down at the holographic display as it sprang to life in the darkened cockpit. Back on the carrier, her task had seemed simple, but now she was flying through a Killer star system at a reasonable percentage of the speed of light, it was much more daunting. If the Killers caught a sniff of her presence, she wouldn’t last long enough to do more than scream for help that wouldn’t come. “Show me what you’ve detected so far.”

The holographic display expanded to reveal the solar system in all its glory. Humanity might not have mastered gravity technology — just how the Killers were able to manipulate gravity so easily was a mystery — but the scout ship’s sensors could detect the use of gravity technology at a considerable distance, along with the presence of anything else that cast a sizeable gravity field. The planetary system was fairly average — seven planets, three of them gas giants — but the waves of focused gravity crossing the system told another story. There was no way that such gravity waves existed in nature. The Killers were in residence.

“I am detecting powered sources from four of the planets,” the AI added, illuminating the active planets. “It would appear that the Killers are tearing the planets apart.”

Chiyo winced, wondering if the planets had developed intelligent life — or any kind of life at all — before the Killers came calling. Humanity knew little about their tormentors, but one thing they did know was that the Killers were brutally xenophobic and completely ruthless. A thousand years of covert space exploration and careful observation of thousands of star systems had confirmed that the Killers had wiped out hundreds of other intelligent races, leaving any survivors well hidden, as well hidden as the remains of humanity itself. It was quite possible that the only forms of intelligent life left in the Milky Way were humanity and the Killers.

And, if the Killers had their way, one day it would just be them.

A thousand years ago, humanity had been pushing into space when the first Killer starship arrived in the Solar System and opened fire on Earth, bombarding the planet into a radioactive wasteland. The starship had ignored the bases on the moon and the asteroids, perhaps in the belief that the remainder of humanity would writher and die without Earth. Instead, humanity had managed to survive and eventually escape the Solar System, only to discover hundreds of other dead worlds and a handful of habitable planets. Several of them had been settled by humanity… only to be eventually located and wiped out by the Killers. The remainder of humanity now lurked in asteroid settlements and dead worlds, knowing that if the Killers found them, all of humanity’s technology wouldn’t save them. The only saving grace was that the Killers didn’t seem to care about asteroid settlements. No one knew why.

It wasn’t the only thing humanity didn’t know about their alien foe. No one, even after a thousand years, knew what a Killer looked like, or even spoke their language. Human archaeologists had explored hundreds of alien worlds — their populations exterminated by the Killers — and decrypted several alien languages, but no one had found a dead Killer world to explore. No one knew why they were so determined to wipe out all other intelligent races, or even how far they’d spread across the universe. The Defence Force’s probes had located dozens of bases… and hundreds of their massive starships, wandering across the galaxy on seemingly-random courses. The sheer scale of the galaxy itself defeated such efforts. Even on the scale the Killers operated, it was like searching for a tiny needle within a very large haystack.

But Chiyo’s commander had lucked out and located this system.

“Wormhole opening, seventeen million kilometres away,” the AI said, suddenly. Chiyo looked up from the display towards the near-space monitor. It wouldn’t have done any good if the wormhole had opened up right on top of her position, but at least she would have seen her enemy coming at her. “Confirmed; one Iceberg-class Killer starship, heading in towards the inner solar system.”

“I wonder why they’re heading in at such a clip,” Chiyo said, thoughtfully. If the Killer starship had come in via wormhole, rather than using their still-inexplicable normal space FTL drives, there wouldn’t be a human scout following it. According to the last report she’d downloaded from the Network, there were at least seventeen known Killer starships within a hundred light years of the star, and all of them seemed to be wandering at random. There seemed no purpose at all to their journey, unless they were watching for signs of other intelligent life.

“Unable to speculate,” the AI said, pedantically. “Alert; passive sensors have detected traces of seven other Killer starships powering up their drives. Gravity fields are expanding; brace for possible impact.”

“Understood,” Chiyo said. She’d been told that there were things called tides on a planetary surface, where the gravity of a moon pulled the water into waves and sent them crashing into the land. Space had gravity tides caused by the presence of several heavy bodies — or Killer gravity drives. They could generate waves that propagated across the system faster than light and shake humanity’s starships like a child shaking her toys. She couldn’t have said how it confirmed to being on a beach, or a boat on a real sea; she had never set foot on a living planet. Very few living humans had and those who lived in the MassMind swore blind that no simulation matched the reality. “Alert me if the waves come near us.”

She turned her attention back to the display as the Killer starships came to life. They were massive starships, each one shaped like a massive iceberg, studded with eerie lights and flickering with strange energies, almost like a city come to life. Whatever else one could say about the Killers, they thought big and built bigger; their starships utterly dwarfed everything humanity had produced. No such starship had been lost in combat with human forces either; the massacres at Terra Nova, Hope, New Jehovah and Peace had been little more than routs. Humanity’s attempts to make a stand against the Killers had been doomed from the start. No one even believed that the Killers had noticed humanity’s stand. It certainly hadn’t prompted them to go after the remaining human settlements.

“Incoming wave,” the AI said, suddenly. The scout ship rocked suddenly. “No damage; no major course adjustments.”

“Thank God,” Chiyo breathed. The course they were on should take them through the star system without passing too close to any Killer facility — although no one, of course, was sure what ‘too close’ actually was. The Killers might have ignored a routine fly-though their system, but she knew that if she came too close to one of their facilities, they would respond. Her tiny scout couldn’t stand up to their weapons for more than a second. “Show me their position.”

“The fleet is moving towards Planet One,” the AI said. “They do not seem to be in a hurry.”

Chiyo eyed the AI’s icon suspiciously, suspecting that it was making an impossible joke, before turning her eyes back to the display. The Killer starships didn’t use warp bubbles or even the Anderson Tachyon Drive — at least as far as humanity could tell — but it didn’t seem to hamper them any. No human technology could have generated a warp bubble large enough to cover a Killer starship, but their gravity drives could propel them through space at sublight speeds with ease — and then there was their inexplicable FTL drive, or their wormholes. The AI was right; whatever they were doing, the Killers were in no hurry. They advanced on the world, ominous intent clearly written in their formation, and surrounded it. Chiyo had the mental impression that the world was cowering under their gaze…

“Power spike,” the AI snapped. “Major power spike…”

The display seemed to blur as the Killers went to work. The rocky planet was struck by beams of powerful energy, rapidly disintegrating into an asteroid field. Chiyo watched in terror and awe as the Killers wove their gravity net around the asteroids trapping them and slowly funnelling them towards the star. The sheer power left her speechless; the Killers hadn’t just rendered the world uninhabitable, they’d torn it apart! It made no sense to her at all. The system had plenty of asteroids they could have used without destroying an entire planet.

“They may have required additional resources,” the AI suggested, finally. It would have been monitoring her physical condition and would have known that she was on the verge of going into shock. She relaxed slightly as her implants fed more calming drugs into her system. “Human theorists suggested, at one point, destroying Mercury in order to use the presence of Sol to assist in working the released ores. The Killers may have evolved a similar concept.”

Chiyo said nothing for a long moment, watching as the Killers continued their task. “We may even be on the verge of discovering another Killer shipyard,” the AI added, in hopes of raising the human’s enthusiasm. “The construction of Icebergs certainly requires considerable resources.”

“Maybe,” Chiyo said, slowly. “They could still have mined the asteroids for a hundred years and not run out of material to produce a thousand Icebergs.”

The next few hours passed slowly. The Killers were wrapping the entire system in beams of gravity, somehow using the star as a source of power. Beams of gravity reached out across the star system, catching the newly formed asteroids and pulling them in towards the star. The Killer starships broke off as the beams of gravity took over and headed towards their next target, the second rocky world. Chiyo watched as that world, too, was shattered, the raw material released pulled towards the star. The sheer scale of their power kept her focused. She couldn’t believe that anyone, even the Killers, would destroy an entire star system just for fun. There had to be a deeper purpose in mind.

“I am picking up additional power fluctuations from the star itself,” the AI said, as new icons appeared on the display. “They do not seem to confirm to any previously observed Killer activity.”

“They’re not planning to rip apart the star,” Chiyo said, in flat denial. It seemed impossible… but with such command of gravity, it might just be possible. It would also mean certain death for her. Without the star’s gravity, her scout ship would be hurled away on the wrong course and she’d never locate the carrier again. She would have to risk a transmission, which might bring the Killers down on her. “They can’t…”

“Apparently not,” the AI agreed. “Power fluctuations are coming from an installation orbiting the star at ten thousand kilometres.”

“It should have melted,” Chiyo said. Ten thousand kilometres was nothing on a cosmic scale. If she took her scout ship so close to the star, it would be destroyed. “Show me; direct optical observation.”

The image appeared in the centre of her display, dimmed to protect her eyes. The star was a massive white globe; the installation, a massive hexagon seemingly floating just above the star, was a black shape. The AI put up a scale for her without even being asked; the hexagon was over a million kilometres across, huge beyond imagination. The Killers had built vast structures before, but this… Chiyo felt, not for the first time, the huge gulf between humanity and their tormentors and felt afraid. How could anyone hope to stand against power like that?

“What is that?” She asked, finally. “Are they trying to enclose the star?”

“Uncertain,” the AI replied, flatly. “I am unable to obtain accurate data at this distance. My current position is not suitable for active observation, but I believe that even if they mine the entire resources of the star system, they would be unable to enclose the star unless they mined material from the star itself. Their use of wormholes and gravity technology would suggest that they could accomplish that, but it would seem to be pointless. Even a partial enclosure of the star would give them access to considerable power.”

“Or they might mine other star systems as well,” Chiyo said, flatly. Unlike a warp bubble, there was no theoretical limit to the size of a wormhole. She could see the Killers opening up a wormhole in another star system, capturing an entire planet and launching it into their new system. It would be industrial engineering on a massive scale, but not beyond their technology. “Do we have any bases near this star system?”

“Unknown,” the AI replied, flatly. “My data banks do not contain information that might be tactically useful to the enemy.”

Chiyo nodded, ruefully. The Defence Force was outmatched enough without risking giving the enemy the locations of humanity’s remaining settlements in one disastrous mission. No list would ever be complete — the Community included hundreds of settlements that preferred to keep their location a secret from the rest of the human race, for various reasons — but a disaster could expose billions of humans to their fire. It was something she would have to report to higher authority when she returned to the carrier. If the Killers were mining entire star systems now… they might scoop up and destroy human colonies, quite by accident. They wouldn’t even know what they had done. Resistance would be, quite literally, futile.

There was a sudden pause. “I am picking up a second hexagon,” the AI added, sharply. “It just came into range. This one is smaller than the previous one, but definitely growing larger. They must be using nanotechnology to break down the asteroids and other debris as they are propelled into the hexagons and used as building material.”

“I’d love to get a look at their power field specifications,” Chiyo mused. Humanity had developed its own form of nanotechnology, but the Killers used it on a scale far beyond anything humanity could accomplish — again. Her body had thousands of the tiny machines running through her blood, fixing any damage and extending her life as far as they could, but there were very definite limits. She had never wanted to become a Spacer and give up her gender in exchange for effective immortality, but one day she would have to choose between that or entering the MassMind. “What about…”

The AI sounded an alarm before she could finish. “We were just scanned,” it said, flatly. Chiyo felt her body jolt to full wakefulness again as the implants did their work. “They just located us.”

“So much for the stealth field,” Chiyo said, grimly. “How much did they get?”

“Uncertain, but enough to locate us,” the AI said. “We are unable to take evasive manoeuvres without leaving a trail for them to follow.”

“Compress a full report into the transmitter and prepare to transmit,” Chiyo ordered, tartly. It was just possible that the Killers would ignore them — a tiny scout ship was hardly a threat — but there was no point in taking chances. If she had located an alien ship in her system, she would have wanted to ask them a few questions before letting them go — or destroying them. “Stand by…”

The scout ship rocked suddenly. Chiyo found herself caught in a field that seemed to tear at her entire body for a second, before the Structural Integrity Field compensated for the sudden change in environment. Red alarms flashed up in her virtual vision, warning of massive internal damage to her body; she fought down a wave of pain and struggled to focus. She couldn’t even talk and had to use her implants to transmit a command to the AI. Report.

“They have locked onto us with a gravity beam,” the AI said. It displayed an image of the ship’s course. They were plunging right down towards the sun. Chiyo realised — and almost laughed aloud — that the Killers hadn’t cared who they were or why they were in their star system; they’d just decided that the scout would make additional raw materials for their project. It was almost insulting, but quite typical of the Killers. “Twenty-two minutes to impact.”

“Transmit,” Chiyo ordered, knowing that she would be dead long before the nanites started disassembling her ship. The gravity waves were compressing her, trying to squash her flat. “Get the information out of here.”

“Transmitting,” the AI said. There was a pause. “Signal sent.”

The gravity field increased suddenly and Chiyo blacked out.

Chapter Two

“At that point, the signal terminates,” Admiral Brent Roeder said, as the final images of the doomed scout faded and died. “We do not know for sure what happened to Lieutenant Takahashi, but we believe that she was killed in the line of duty, along with her AI. We do not believe that there is any point in a fast-recon mission to attempt to locate any traces of her vessel.”

“You intend to abandon her?” Father Sigmund asked, coldly. “I believe that you could get a starship in and out of the system before the devils could respond.”

“If we jumped a starship into the system, either in a warp bubble or though the Anderson Drive, we will certainly attract their attention,” Brent said, with forced calm. “They will act at once against the starship and the crew will be lucky to escape. The telemetry from the scout suggests, quite strongly, that the craft was broken up and used for raw materials, along with the pilot. I will not waste additional resources attempting to rescue a dead woman.”

“There’s little point in arguing,” President Patti Lydon said, as calmly as she could. It had been a long day even before the War Council had been summoned by the Admiral. “I believe that the Admiral still holds the confidence of his peers and they do not appear to have condemned the decision. I assume that the Lieutenant knew the risks?”

“Yes, Madam President,” Brent confirmed. “Those of us in the Defence Force all know the risks. We live with them every day. We face them every time we scout out a potential Killer star system or shadow a Killer starship. We lose hundreds of people each year to the Killers, or simple accidents in space; we all know the risks.”

Patti nodded tiredly. There were times when she wished that the Community was a more formal structure, but the truth was that humanity could not afford any such structure, not now. The members of the War Council couldn’t share the same asteroid settlement, or even visit each other socially, merely because of the risk of a Killer attack leaving humanity leaderless. There were thousands of asteroid settlements, billions of humans in hiding across the stars, but without the Community, any hope of united action would be gone.

“And another one of God’s Children dies,” Father Sigmund intoned. “How many more must die, Admiral?”

“We have been unable to communicate with the Killers,” Brent pointed out, tightly. His words came in sharp choppy sentences. “We cannot offer to surrender. They want us all dead. We can either try to fight — or hide, hoping that we will not be discovered. As the events last year proved, even the asteroid settlements are not safe.”

“The settlers of High Singapore brought their fate on themselves,” Rupert said. The massive Spacer’s electronic eyes seemed to flicker towards the Admiral, before turning to Father Sigmund. “They were careless and were detectable when a Killer starship entered their system. Other settlements do not make the same mistake.”

Patti scowled. She remembered the images High Singapore — a settlement of several hundred asteroids, comprising over twenty million humans — had sent, in the last moments before the Killers wiped them out. The massive Iceberg-class starship had appeared in the system, tracked them down, and systematically blasted every asteroid, while the Defence Force struggled to hold them off long enough for some humans to escape. Only ten thousand humans had escaped the brutal and utterly ruthless attack… and over a hundred Defence Force starships had died in the battle. The Killers had barely slowed to swat the gnats before destroying the asteroids.

“May God keep them,” Father Sigmund said, and for once there was general agreement. “May he take them into his heaven as righteous souls.”

Humanity had once had hundreds of different religions, but the destruction of Earth had wiped out almost all of that rich tapestry. There had been a handful of religion-based asteroid settlements, but over time, almost all of them had merged into the Deists, an overarching religious community. They had borrowed elements from all human religions, but they spent so much time arguing about the actual way of God that they were barely a political power in their own right. Patti had long since decided that that was for the best. The last thing humanity needed was a religious civil war.

“The more worrying implication of all this is what might be happening to other star systems touched by the Killers,” Tabitha Cunningham said. “Are they going to be dissembling other star systems — and, if so, why?”

Patti studied Tabitha carefully as she posed her question. At one thousand and forty years old, Tabitha was probably the oldest person — personality — in existence. When she’d been human, she’d watched helplessly as the Killers destroyed Earth, before setting out on an asteroid generation ship to try to escape the solar system, only to discover that she’d been beaten to the new system by a warp drive starship. It had been a surprisingly friendly meeting and Tabitha, now on the brink of death by old age, had accepted the offer to be transcribed into the MassMind. She now represented the MassMind on the War Council. Patti had learned to value her insights, but she was from a very different age. She had never accepted that humanity had to hide indefinitely.

“They appear to be building a Dyson Sphere or a variant on the theme,” Rupert grated. The cyborg studied Tabitha thoughtfully. The Spacers grafted artificial implants onto their bodies, giving up their gender and much else to live and work in space without any form of protection. They also looked obscene; their flesh and blood mangled by implanted machines and augments. The Spacers claimed to be immortal, and it was true that they only died through accidents, but most humans considered it a high price to pay. Only those who feared that the MassMind wasn’t true immortality wanted to join the Spacers. “That would grant them access to even more stupendous sources of power.”

“Indeed,” Administrator Arun Prabhu agreed. The Technical looked around the holographic simulation of the dying star system. “The current theory is that they might even be able to take control of the star altogether and collapse it into a black hole. It would give them another source of power.”

“I believe that we are slipping away from the point of this meeting,” Tabitha said. “Computer; return to general display.”

The image of the star system vanished, to be replaced by an image of the galaxy, seem from a view point high above the galactic core. It gave the illusion of god-like power to the War Council as they gazed down on the perfect image, spoiled only by the hundreds of tactical icons as they orbited the galaxy. The red icons marked known Killer star systems, or the locations of known Killer starships on their endless hunt for intelligent life to exterminate; the blue icons marked some of humanity’s settlements. Patti had grown up with such maps and knew how to read them; humanity was steadily being driven to the brink of extinction.

Tabitha’s image was one of her in her prime, commander of a spacecraft that had been the most advanced of its time — and pitiful compared to the Killer starship that had destroyed Earth. Patti found herself respecting Tabitha, even though she feared the woman’s icy determination to wreck revenge on the Killers, a desire shared by far too many humans. If there had been hope, Patti would have joined them, but there was none. Every engagement had ended badly for humanity.

“We need to face the facts,” Tabitha said. “We are still retreating from their advance, unable to escape unless we flee the galaxy entirely. We need to find a way to strike back at them.”

“We believe that we may have a way,” Brent said. Patti found herself staring at him, and then wondering if Brent and Tabitha had planned the meeting beforehand. “One of our main problems is that we have been unable to obtain any samples of their technology on more than a small scale. What we need — desperately — is one of their starships to analyse. We believe that we can obtain one.”

He sent a command into the room’s processor and it displayed an image of a Killer starship, a very familiar image. Patti felt her heart race as she took in the massive form, a starship far larger than anything humanity had ever built. The others were showing similar reactions. They all knew what those ships had done to humanity.

“This is Killer #453,” Brent said. “We do not, of course, know what the Killers call it, but we located this one over a year ago and tracked it as it moved from star system to star system. It appears to be comparatively isolated from the remainder of the Killer fleet and doesn’t seem to have any actual links with any known base. Of course, we can’t hack into their communications network, so we don’t know for sure, but all warfare is based on risk. The important thing is that this ship is isolated.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Father Sigmund said, after a long pause, “but only one engagement has ever been fought against more than one Killer starship. All of the engagements have been disasters. How many more people are you prepared to send to their deaths against this monster?”

“That’s not entirely accurate,” Brent said, firmly. “In their attack on High Singapore, and most of the other engagements, we had to stand and fight. We couldn’t break because the Killers would just have moved on to destroying the asteroids and slaughtering the civilians. That meant that we were permanently exposed to their fire and, when they came at us, they broke through. This battle will be fought in a location that is clear of civilians and our starships can jump in and out at will.”

He paused. “One thing we do know about their ships is that their targeting capability isn’t actually that good,” he added. “If our starships keep evading in random patterns, they will be unable to target them easily and we can pound away at them from relative safety. That will not, however, be the actual threat. The starships will distract the Killers while the Footsoldiers board the craft.”

There was a long pause. “You intend to board a Killer starship?”

“Yes, Father,” Brent said, firmly. “I intend to put an entire army into one of their ships and take control of it from the inside.”

“Impossible,” Patti said flatly. “You don’t know enough about the enemy ships to take control of one.”

“We have volunteers for the mission,” Brent countered, “and at least some understanding of their technology. Even if we cannot gain control, detonating an antimatter mine inside the craft would certainly wreck it and give us something we need desperately — a victory. If we could even get our hands on a real live Killer… we might even be able to learn how to talk to the bastards.”

“And even images of what the interior of the craft looks like would be helpful,” Arun added, from his position. “We believe that we are on the verge of unlocking some of their technology, or at least developing theories that account for how it works, but we need additional information to allow us to develop a defence.”

“That still leaves the risk of provoking them into coming after us,” Patti countered. “The Community is on the verge of falling apart anyway. We cannot take the risk of forcing them to drive after us and completing the task of wiping us out.”

“They’re intent on wiping us out anyway,” Tabitha pointed out, sharply. “I’ve been watching and listening through the MassMind. Over the last thousand years, the human race’s… determination to overcome everything in its path has been steadily broken by the Killers. The number of people who have just… given up is astonishingly high, worryingly high. Thousands are seeking refuge in fantasy inside the MassMind or other simulations; hundreds more are committing suicide or just giving up inside. They will locate and destroy every colony of ours, eventually. They even wiped out the pastoral worlds and God alone knows what attracted them there.”

Patti winced. Three hundred years ago, a group of settlers had concluded that the reason the Killers located human worlds so fast was because of the emission signatures caused by their technology, so they’d settled a handful of worlds with nothing beyond hand and water powered technology. It hadn’t been a pleasant life — no one had any experience living in a world without technology — and, a hundred years later, the Killers had arrived, bombarded the worlds into radioactive wastelands, and that put an end to that. Perhaps it was telepathy, as some humans had speculated at the time; there seemed to be no other explanation for how the Killers had located their prey.

“They are set on destroying us all,” Tabitha continued. “We don’t co-exist with them. We merely… wait until they turn their attention to destroying us. If we can take out that craft, or capture it, it will give the human race a boost, a boost we desperately need. If we can’t fight back, we might as well commit suicide now and save them the trouble of exterminating us.”

“We can’t do that,” Brent said. He smiled, thinly. “We’d never get everyone to agree to commit suicide.”

Patti looked down at the image of the galaxy. There were hundreds of known Killer star systems and thousands of known Killer starships. It seemed absurd to believe that the Community could wage war against such a foe and yet… they were right. The human race was in hiding, the Defence Force only capable of observing and monitoring the enemy… and it was tearing the Community apart. There were groups launching colony fleets to the nearest galaxies, using the Anderson Drive to cut the journey times down to a manageable level, but what would happen when the Killers reached those galaxies as well?

And humanity was alone. There were no allies out there, no aliens who might be friendly or would join humanity in war against the Killers. The Killers had wiped out thousands of races over the years, leaving humanity alone. It didn’t bode well for humanity’s future. The human race wasn’t the only race that had reached space before the Killers arrived, but no others had survived, unless they were in hiding. She would have liked to believe that some of them were hiding under the noses of the Killers, but the Killers would probably have ferreted them all out — eventually — and destroyed them. Humanity was just the last in a long line of defeated and exterminated races.

“Can we even break into the craft?” She asked, finally. “Can we board craft coated with invincible hull material?”

“We believe so,” Brent said, simply. “We have studied the craft carefully and believe that it might be possible to board it with Footsoldiers. There is an element of risk, as I said, but we believe that it can be minimised.”

“And if it is not, they all die,” Patti said.

Tabitha smiled. “Shall we move to a vote?”

Rupert, the Spacer, spoke first. “We support this risky endeavour,” he grated, slowly. “We will grant what support we can to the Footsoldiers.”

“We agree,” Arun added. His voice was distressingly eager. “We need insight into their technology and this is the only way we can obtain it. The risk is worthwhile.”

It isn’t you who will have to take the risk, Patti thought, but she knew that it wasn’t quite accurate. The Technical Faction would be intimately involved with examining the captured ship — if it were captured — and if the Killers arrived to recover their ship, they’d be caught in the firing line. She made a mental note to ensure that the starship was flown well away from any inhabited human settlement, just in case, before waiting for the next person to speak.

“I believe that this is futile,” Father Sigmund said, tightly. Patti wasn’t too surprised by his stance. The Deists believed the life was sacred and not to be risked, ever. Their beliefs would make very little difference if the Killers attacked, just as they had slaughtered most of humanity’s religious adherents on Earth. “I cannot in good conscience support this crazy plan.”

“I must agree with you for once,” Matriarch Jayne said. The Rockrat leader stared at Brent harshly. Her ancient face refused to budge. “This plan risks far too much for a very chancy reward. We cannot afford another High Singapore so soon.”

Patti smiled. The Rockrats had formed the basis of much of the Community — and one of their traditions was female leaders. After Earth had been destroyed, the women on the asteroid belts had suddenly become worth far more than their weight in gold and had been prevented from going outside sheltered accommodation. While the men struggled to build a new society, the women had quietly taken control of the asteroids and ended up running the original Community. They were generally more careful than men in their dealings with the Killers. They knew what was at stake.

“So does certain death,” Tabitha said. Her voice hardened slightly. “I cast my vote in favour of this plan.”

“As do I,” Brent said, unnecessarily.

“Four in favour, two opposed,” Patti said. She sighed, heavily. If she cast a vote now, it would be useless, whichever way she moved. Her constituents would not be too happy, but there was little choice. “I choose, therefore, to abstain from the vote. Admiral, you have your permission to proceed. Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Brent said. He looked down at the image of the Killer starship for a long moment. Patti wondered if he was having doubts now about the wisdom of his plans. “We won’t fail you.”

Chapter Three

As soon as the meeting ended, Tabitha Cunningham translated herself out of the meeting perceptual environment and back into her own apartment — or what she thought of as her apartment. It looked like her old apartment back on Earth — nothing more than radioactive dust now — even to her enhanced senses, but she knew that it was not. It was an image, formed in her mind and given a certain trace of reality by the MassMind, yet it was nothing more than the tiniest tiny section of the network that linked the human race together. Tabitha knew that the illusion was an illusion and could never give herself completely to it, but she needed the comfortable to remind her that there was something worth fighting for, even if it was a dream long gone.

Was she human? It was something she had struggled with for centuries, ever since the Endeavour — a starship only called a starship by the grace of semantics — had reached a new star and encountered humanity’s first warp-capable starship. The aging Tabitha had dreamed of a new world, but instead she’d been warned that no Earth-like world was safe for humans, and she could seek a kind of immortality as a ghost in the machine. Her mind, her personality, perhaps even her soul, had been transcribed into the growing MassMind… but was she human? Was she still Tabitha, who had captained a Bridge Ship and led humanity’s desperate struggle to survive, or was she nothing more than a tiny computer program that dreamed it was a woman?

She wasn’t the only one to have those doubts, but as humanity grew older, it seemed to her that the number of humans who had those doubts fell. She had been Roman Catholic on Earth, but humanity’s religions had been almost completely exterminated by the Killers. By becoming part of the MassMind, she had wondered at the time, was she trying to cheat God? Was she doomed for punishment on the Day of Judgement? And yet, she thought from time to time, could anyone cheat God? If He wanted to summon her, He could do it with ease, no matter where she hid. He could certainly reach into the MassMind for her.

Her eyes closed as she slumped into a chair that was not a chair. It would have been easy to lose herself within the MassMind and thousands of human patterns did so every year. She could hear the faint whispers of the collective MassMind at the back of her head — everyone in the MassMind would hear them — and she knew that one day she would succumb to the song herself. She was the oldest personality within the MassMind, over a thousand years old, and she was tired. The illusion of being tired was the only link she had to being human. There were people — personalities — in the MassMind who never grew tired, or bored with their games. They could do anything in the MassMind; it never failed to shock her, even after a thousand years, how far people could go. The MassMind never judged, for no one was hurt, but she still struggled with her own morality. Was it right to lose oneself in a rape fantasy, even if no one was actually hurt? Was it right to take part in a paedophilic encounter if the child was nothing more than a computer-generated illusion?

She remembered her own early days in the MassMind and shuddered. She’d explored all of the possibilities. She’d been a man for a few dozen years, learning what it felt like to be the opposite sex, before reconfiguring herself back into a woman. She’d been a child again, and then an animal, and then creatures out of modern myth. It hadn’t been real, yet it had felt real, and when she had finally pulled herself out of the endless illusionary luxury, she had realised the truth. The MassMind existed to keep the human race distracted from the truth. If the Killers stumbled across the MassMind and its remote nodes, they would wipe out billions of human personalities without a second thought.

A magazine appeared on her coffee table and she picked it up thoughtfully. It claimed to be a listing of various entertainments, but none of them drew her attention. She was perhaps the only personality still active that would have recognised the origins of some of the entertainments, the programs and illusions that distracted humanity from the truth. It still astonished her how much had been lost over the years, but the latest version of Star Wars, in which the heroes went up against the Galactic Empire, was still going strong. She didn’t think that there were so many nude scenes in the original though — and she would have given her soul to only fight the Galactic Empire. Humanity faced a far worse foe.

She shook her head impatiently as the MassMind transmitted a signal to her, informing her that someone would like to enter her personal environment. She nodded, transmitting an acknowledgement, and smiled ruefully as the door opened, revealing Administrator Arun Prabhu. In the MassMind, he reassembled a Sikh from Old Earth, although Tabitha was probably the only person who recalled what the Sikhs actually were. It was even more of an illusion than her own personality; Arun lived outside the MassMind, in reality. She envied him more than she could say.

“Captain,” he said, in greeting. Tabitha rolled her eyes inwardly. Her title of Captain was the only one she’d kept over the years, even though she’d been Administrator of the Asteroid Belt, President of the Community and Matriarch of the Rockrats in her long life. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

Tabitha scowled at him, knowing that she was being teased. “To business,” she said, tightly. The environment could quite easily have been a nude steam bath, or a simple Government-Issue conference room from her own time; her apartment was merely a matter of personal choice. “I trust that the Admiral is on his way?”

“I believe that he was briefing some of his subordinates,” Arun said, as Admiral Brent Roeder stepped in through the door. He looked like a fairly average military man, although the Defence Force uniform owed more to various science-fiction movies that had survived the years than anything Tabitha had seen from a human military. She had once been a Colonel in the United States Space Force — which had ceased to exist along with the United States and Earth itself — and part of her found the uniform amusing, and silly. “Ah, Admiral.”

“Captain,” Brent said, calmly. He, at least, wasn’t too awed with her reputation. “We had better make this quick. I’m scheduled to attend another two briefings before the end of the day.”

Tabitha smiled. She approved of efficiency and the Defence Force, even though it was largely helpless against the Killers, was an efficient organisation. Brent had handled much of that when he became its Commanding Officer, rebuilding what had been a rapidly decaying communications and reconnaissance force into a formidable military machine — formidable against anything, but the Killers. He controlled firepower that would have been unimaginable back in her youth and starships that could span the galaxy in mere hours, yet the Killers didn’t care. To them, humanity was just another race of insects that needed to be exterminated.

She sent a mental command into the MassMind and the image of the Killer starship materialised in front of them. It didn’t look any less formidable than it had looked in the Council Chamber and she wondered, suddenly, if they were doing the right thing. Humanity had survived by hiding in the asteroids and out in interstellar space, but now… now they were talking about going on the offensive, against an overwhelmingly superior foe. Tabitha had been a military officer long enough to know that that was dangerous, yet there was little choice. The only other choice was to flee the galaxy entirely and escape. The MassMind couldn’t be moved so easily.

“Our target,” Brent said, seriously. “The planning sessions have all been completed. As we know nothing about the internal environment of the Killer starship, we were very limited in what we could tell the Footsoldiers about it. We believe that we are prepared for anything reasonable, but…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. They all knew how formidable the Killer starships were… and how little humanity knew about their interiors. The Killers didn’t take prisoners, or capture starships; they just came, saw and destroyed. The commando teams boarding the enemy starship were risking everything. It was quite possible that they wouldn’t be able to survive within the Killer ship, although every destroyed world had been quite Earth-like. There was no reason to believe that the Killers were that alien.

“It’s out of our hands now,” Tabitha said, feeling — once again — the helplessness of being part of the MassMind. By long tradition, the MassMind only had one vote on the War Council, or even as part of the Greater Community. It might be the largest single population — if one counted human personalities as being part of a population — but the living would not permit the dead to dictate to them. Besides, Patti might be the President of the Community, but the Community was such a decentralised system that the President counted for very little. “What about the other project?”

“The Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator is in final development now,” Arun confirmed. Tabitha had chosen the name herself, secure in the knowledge that no one would connect the name with any actual project. “The problem remains testing it.”

Brent changed the image — a serious breech of MassMind etiquette — to the final images from Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi. “I have a target right here,” he said, coldly. “If we strike that star, even their technology would be unable to prevent a disaster.”

“We’d have to blow up a lot of stars to make an impression on them,” Tabitha pointed out, coldly. The Killers had thousands of star systems. She had a dark suspicion that humanity hadn’t located even a fraction of them. It was a mystery why the Killers seemed to ignore uninhabited Earth-like worlds in those systems, but it wouldn’t matter — humanity couldn’t use them so near the Killers. “How many stars do you want to kill?”

“As many as we have to,” Brent said. “We’re at war.”

“They may be able to counter the effect,” Arun said, reluctantly. “My team have been going through the images from the scout ship flight and they believe that the Killers are actually attempting to take control of the star. If they are capable of operating on such a level — which is theoretically possible — they may be able to compensate for the supernova effect.”

“They dismantle entire star systems to build their structures and now you’re telling me that they’re taking control of entire stars,” Brent said. “Why? What’s the point of taking control of a star?”

Tabitha said nothing, thinking hard. One benefit of the MassMind was that it allowed the brightest scientists and technicians of humanity to work together without being lumbered with their own care and feeding. Arun might have been the Administrator of the Technical Faction, but much of the real work was done in the MassMind, by the ghosts of scientists who had centuries of experience and the ability to assimilate data and study the implications almost instantly. They could use the MassMind fantastic processing power to run simulations and experiments that would have been impossible in the outside world and repeat them as many times as necessary. They’d been concentrating on the mystery of Killer technology for thousands of years. They’d even cracked some minor mysteries.

“The best we can suggest is that they want the power the star represents,” Arun said, finally. “If they took control of a star, they’d be able to tap into its power on a far more effective basis than anything they’d have even if they enclosed the star completely.”

“But why not use energy drawn from the universe itself?” Brent asked, shaking his head. “Or even other sources? Why go to all that trouble just to take control of a star?”

“We don’t know,” Arun admitted. “They already have more power at their disposal than we have. Anything they want or need… they can get it with the power they have already. Why would they bother to reconfigure a star?”

“We’ll just have to hope that capturing one of their starships will give us some answers,” Tabitha said, grimly. “If we can’t crack one of their starships, we may be reduced to blowing up stars just to get them to pay attention to us.”

She winced inwardly, remembering Patti’s concerns. The President knew that humanity was in a fragile state and the Killers could come after them at any moment. She believed that it would be better if the Community did nothing to anger the Killers, but humanity couldn’t live like that. The hundreds of thousands who fell into the MassMind and its illusions, or committed suicide or even fled the galaxy entirely were merely symptoms of humanity’s growing despair.  The human race couldn’t go on being the hunted prey. Whatever it took, she knew, the war had to end.

* * *

Paula Handley allowed herself to feel a hint of nervousness as she was called into the Administrator’s office on the Technical Asteroid. She hadn’t seen the Administrator in person since she’d joined the Technical Faction as a young girl just out of school and qualified to become a Technical in her own right. She was proud, very much so, of what she had accomplished, yet she was young and knew that it would be a long time before she rose to the position where she could pick and choose her own research projects. She’d been funnelled into studying Killer technology — gravity science was an interest of hers — and she took some pride in knowing that she had enhanced humanity’s understanding, yet she knew how little it was compared to what the Killers did so effortlessly. It didn’t help that certain old women of both sexes were worried about the consequences of experimenting with gravity technology. Gravity waves propagated instantly across space and they believed — feared — that they would attract the Killers. They could hardly fail to respond to someone attempting to crack the secrets of their own technology.

The Administrator looked like a young man, but appearances were deceptive; Paula knew from his biography that he was over three hundred years old, an early recipient of regeneration therapies. Humanity could now live longer than ever before without going into the MassMind, or becoming a Spacer and losing most of their humanity. He had light brown skin, hints of stubble on his chin and a faint smile on his mouth. His eyes focused on her sharply, suggesting that he’d been communing with the MassMind and only just come out of contact to talk to her. She supposed that she should have been flattered. The people who believed that her experiments should not go ahead lived in the MassMind.

“Paula,” Arun said. A chair flowed out of the floor and took shape in front of her. “Have a seat. We have some things to discuss.”

Disciplinary matters, surely, Paula thought, as she sat down. The chair moved slightly under her, conforming to the shape of her body. They probably know that I urged the Defence Force to consider the experiments even without the consent of the MassMind.

“You’re not actually in trouble,” Arun said. He’d probably seen her thoughts written over her face. Contacting the Defence Force directly had been a risk, but there’d been no choice, damn it! “You have, however, marked yourself out as a person suitable for an immensely dangerous mission. The Defence Force intends to capture a Killer starship.”

Paula felt her eyes go wide. She had seen countless entertainments where the Technical Faction, or a single isolated mad scientist, made a breakthrough that allowed Killer starships to be blown out of space with a single hit, but none of them had been real. She had learned to hate them rapidly; she hated them and the humans who wasted their lives dreaming of easy victories and an end to humanity’s long torment. They were nothing more than illusions.

“Seriously?” She asked, finally. “Why…?”

“You don’t need to know,” Arun said, holding up a hand. “The important detail is that it might not be possible to actually capture the ship, even if they do manage to board it, and if that’s the case we may lose the entire attack fleet. They want someone along who has an understanding of gravity technology and… well; you’re the best we have who is still mortal.”

Paula nodded, slightly dazed. Everyone else was in the MassMind. “I can’t promise you anything, but incredible danger,” Arun added. “You might be killed outright, or trapped on a Killer starship as it opens a wormhole to escape, or… we may never be able to transcribe you into the MassMind. Do you want the position?”

She touched the side of her head. There was a chip in there that recorded everything that made her herself; her thoughts, her personality, even her deepest darkest secrets. She rarely thought about it, but if she were to be killed, the chip would be uploaded into the MassMind and she would live again. The thought of losing that immortality was terrifying, yet if she went, she would be the first Technical to set foot on a Killer starship. How could she refuse?

“Of course,” she said. “Where do I go to sign up?”

“There’s a shuttle waiting for you now to transport you to Sparta,” Arun said. “The Admiral and his men will brief you there. Listen carefully to them. I don’t want them refusing other requests because you annoyed them, or acted dangerously. And Paula?”

Paula looked back at him. “Yes, sir?”

“Good luck,” Arun said. “You’re going to need it.”

Chapter Four

Sparta Asteroid was nothing remarkable, from the outside; a simple piece of rock floating in an endless free orbit around a dull red star. On the inside, it was very different. It served as one of the main hubs for the Defence Force and held part of the command staff. The Defence Force was very decentralised — no one had any illusions as to how long Sparta would survive a Killer attack — but if anywhere could be said to be the headquarters, it was Sparta.

Captain Andrew Ramage walked through the asteroid, barely aware of the security probes that checked and rechecked his identity. It had been years since he had served a team as a dispatcher on Sparta and it was rare for any Defence Force officer to be recalled to the headquarters unless he or she had an absolutely pressing reason to be there. Rumours had been flying around the various communications networks for weeks now, but nothing concrete had been said, not when the Killers might eavesdrop on the Defence Force’s communications links. Andrew privately doubted that they could — hacking into a network bound together by quantum entanglements was supposed to be impossible — or that they would, but no one questioned the requirement. The Killers weren’t the only enemy out there; there were human foes as well.

The Community, by its very nature, counted hundreds of thousands of different types of society, scattered across the stars. Andrew had seen asteroids that worked by a form of pure communism, asteroids that practiced free enterprise and universal franchise, systems based on aristocracy and meritocracy and everything else. It never ceased to astonish him how many different systems humanity could invent to govern themselves, or how often they could come to blows over political questions. The Defence Force didn’t have the muscle to reform all of the unpleasant governments — the Community would come apart at the seams if they tried — but the Defence Force did try to keep a lid on any conflicts. They might attract the attention of the Killers.

And then there were the hidden colonies, which didn’t recognise the authority of the Community and sought to remain in isolation, and the pirates, who preyed on human shipping with gleeful abandon. The Anderson Drive was a great invention — Andrew would never have denied it himself — but it gave the pirates too many advantages. They could jump in, carry out their raids, and then jump out again, escaping anyone who came in pursuit. Andrew sometimes wondered why the pirates didn’t form a Counter-Community, but that would have destroyed their secrecy. It was about as likely as them preying on the Killers and their massive starships.

His last mission had been against fanatical adherents of the Dreaming Meme. The Dreamers believed that they — and they alone — should dominate the MassMind, apparently in the belief that it would one day rise to godhood and remake the entire sorry universe. The remainder of their beliefs were so complicated that no one, short of a entire team of researchers, could make sense of them, but it hardly mattered. The Dreamers had left hundreds of people dead in their wake and, worst of all, they had mutilated their heads. The chip that would have given their victims immortality within the MassMind had been destroyed. It was the ultimate horror.

Bastards, he thought, as he stepped into the Admiral’s private office. He’d only seen it once before, back when he’d been a dispatcher, and so lowly as to pass unnoticed by the senior officers. The Defence Force recruited from the entire Community and was surprisingly egalitarian, but order and discipline had to be maintained.

“Captain Andrew Ramage, reporting as ordered, sir,” he said, saluting

“Captain,” Admiral Brent Roeder said. He was a short fireplug of a man, smoking a cigar so vigorously that he looked as if he was going to chew it in half. He was over two hundred years old and he’d been heading up the Defence Force for the last fifty of them, serving so well that no one had sought to remove him. “Stand at ease.”

Andrew relaxed, slightly. The only reason he could think of for the Admiral to call him to Sparta was for a special mission of some kind. The mission against the Dreaming Meme had been a success, but that wouldn’t have called for a special reward, apart from the medal his immediate superior had pinned on his chest. The only other reason was for disciplinary action, but he knew for a fact that he had committed no offence sufficient to be summoned before the Commander-in-Chief.

“Be seated,” Brent said, after studying him for a long moment. Andrew took the forming chair and waited patiently for the Admiral to tell him what he was going to tell him in his own time. “You did well against the Dreaming Meme, Captain; well enough to recommend you for a more dangerous mission. Admiral Al-Rashid was unhappy to lose you, but I insisted on having you and your entire attack wing prepared for a special mission.”

There was a pause. “You’re going into Killer space,” Brent said, after a moment. “We want you to capture — or destroy — a Killer starship.”

Andrew blinked, the only sign of concern he would allow himself. He’d seen the images of High Singapore; they’d been shown throughout the Defence Force. The entire Defence Force could have used the Anderson Drive and railed to the defence of the asteroid settlement, but it would have been a hopeless battle. It would have cost hundreds of starships, for nothing. His attack wing was the most formidable force humans had assembled — he had built and trained it personally — yet they could barely scratch the paint on a Killer starship. They would be decimated if they had to stand and fight.

Brent read his expression and smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said. “We’re not expecting you to take the starship down yourself. We plan to board the ship.”

“Board the ship?” Andrew asked. It seemed impossible. “Can they actually get onboard?”

“We believe so,” Brent said. He didn’t say any more, not entirely to Andrew’s surprise. The chip in his head would have recorded it and if his body had fallen into enemy hands… they would learn everything he knew. The recording chips posed a security nightmare for the Defence Force, but there was little choice; if they had been banned, the recruitment stream would have dropped to almost nothing. “There are some possible ways into the Killer starships and the Footsoldiers will attempt to use them.”

He paused. “Once inside the ship, they will attempt to disable it and allow you to take it in tow to Star’s End,” he continued. “Your remaining ships” — neither of them had any illusions as to how many starships would survive the coming encounter — “will take it though by linking your Anderson Drives together. Once there, the researchers will take command and take the starship apart to find out how it works.”

Andrew scowled. “It seems like one hell of a gamble,” he observed. “What happens if they vanish somewhere within the Killer starship? We don’t have any idea what they’re going to be facing.”

“You fall back and break off the engagement,” Brent said. “If they lose contact… well, there’s no point in taking additional risks. One of the Footsoldiers will be carrying an antimatter mine and if that baby goes off inside the ship…”

“Goodbye Killers,” Andrew said, slowly. The plan sounded workable, but there were far too many unknowns. Defence Force training had focused on how dangerous unknowns could be in combat. On the other hand, there weren’t very many other choices. If they couldn’t gain samples of Killer technology to study, the Defence Force would never be able to match the killers.

“Probably,” Brent confirmed. Andrew nodded. Killer starships had survived enough firepower to lay waste a hundred worlds. They had barely even noticed that they were under attack — or perhaps they just hadn’t bothered to launch a serious counterattack. Who knew what really motivated them? “We’ll run through an entire series of simulations and contingency plans before the attack wing departs, but if the unexpected happens, use your initiative. We can’t afford to lose this one, Andrew.”

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said. The Defence Force might have been rebuilt, but its morale was fragile; they knew that they couldn’t defend humanity against its single worst enemy. The destruction of a Killer starship, one of thousands, wouldn’t alter the material balance of power that much, but it would give the human race a massive boost. They needed the victory desperately. “I won’t let you down.”

“I hope so,” Brent said, standing up. “Come and meet your team.”

* * *

The human race hadn’t developed much of a military presence in space — not that it would have done much good anyway — when the Killers arrived. The legendary human armies and Special Forces — the Special Air Service, the United States Marine Corps, the Spetsnaz and many others — had been wiped out along with their planet, destroyed by an enemy they couldn’t touch, let alone fight. The isolated law enforcement and paramilitary units in space had been folded into the Community, but there had never been a serious military presence. The Community had had to build one from scratch.

They called themselves the Footsoldiers, a name that Captain Chris Kelsey had always found more than a little ironic. The human race might have lost most of its heritage — he’d never been sure if some of the stories about Old Earth’s Special Forces were real or exaggerations — but the Footsoldiers were far from common infantry. They were too expensive to train and maintain. They had more in common with the Special Forces — they operated in small groups and were rarely deployed to the surface of a planet — but they wore heavy Armoured Combat Suits and carried enough firepower to take out entire armies, each. If a platoon of armoured soldiers had been sent back in time to the heyday of Old Earth, or the Second World War, they could have conquered the world.

Provided we had our armour, of course, Chris thought, as he took his seat in the main briefing chamber. There were over two hundred Footsoldiers gathered together, which was unusual. Normally, they operated in teams of ten to twenty Footsoldiers, rarely more. Without our armour, we’d probably be captured or killed outright within seconds.

The thought reminded him of the survival training they’d done on a nameless planet along the edge of the galaxy. The trainees had been dropped on the planet with nothing, not even their clothes, and told to make their way to the pick-up point alone. The planet was completely uninhabited, at least by humans. The local wildlife was nasty and intolerant, the local fauna was either disgusting or poisonous — or both — and it wasn’t easy to find anything that could be used as a weapon. Those who had survived had known that they’d been the best; those who had failed at that point had died. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience and it had given him a new respect for the old-style soldiers back on Earth. They’d probably gone through worse.

“Attention,” a voice said, and the Footsoldiers came to attention. Military formality wasn’t part of their nature — they’d been taught to use their brains and work together, not operate by rote — but they showed respect for officers who’d earned it. Admiral Brent Roeder had definitely earned their respect. “At ease.”

Chris opened a memory cell in his augments — the Footsoldiers might not quite qualify as Spacers, but they were almost as heavily augmented — and started to record as the Admiral began to speak. The locker rooms had been full of chatter about the mission, with speculation ranging from clearing out a pirate base to rescuing hostages, although that wouldn’t have required two hundred Footsoldiers to handle.

“This is Killer #453,” Brent said, as the image of a Killer starship materialised above them. Chris felt, more than heard, the angry helpless rage that flared though the audience at the sight of the massive starship. “You’re going to board her.”

The shock that ran through the audience was greater this time. They all knew that boarding a Killer starship meant jumping right into the unknown, yet they’d all volunteered to be Footsoldiers, knowing that one day they might be called upon to jump right into a Killer base. The Defence Force might sneak around Killer star systems, trying to learn as much as they could, but the Footsoldiers had always known that the only way to learn would be to capture one of their systems. It wouldn’t be easy — they knew nothing about internal defences, but the outer defences on an Iceberg were known to be formidable — but they were the best. If it could be done, they could do it.

“Once you board the craft, you’ll have to proceed independently towards the main power source and put it out of commission,” the Admiral continued. One of the few things that were known about the Killer starships was the location of their main power plants. No one knew how they worked or what they looked like — which added yet another degree of risk to the mission — but they knew where they were, roughly. “We cannot advise you on passing through the internal defences, or what kind of environment you might encounter, but we believe that there is no other way to secure control of the ship. Do not lose contact with the escorting starships; we need whatever data you can retrieve from the interior.”

Even if we don’t survive, Chris finished, ruefully. He understood why the Admiral hadn’t said that out loud — he wouldn’t want to demoralise them with the knowledge that the Defence Force starships had been ordered to abandon them rather than attempt a rescue — but no one in the audience was fooled. They all knew full well that it might be a one-way trip. It was what they had signed up to do.

“I want operational plans in my processor by 1900,” the Admiral finished. “Good luck,”

Chris opened up his secure processor and linked into the other Footsoldiers. One advantage of their communications implants was that they could share tactics and information — and hash out assault plans — without needing to talk aloud. They had also been known to use the channels for whispering during boring lectures, but the senior Footsoldiers tended to stamp on that hard. What little they knew about the Killer starships was waiting for them and rapidly assessed, before the discussion turned to the more mundane issue of breaking into the starship. Nothing the Defence Force had used had scratched the surface of the ships, yet openings had been observed on their massive hulls. It was just possible that they could be used as access points.

“I don’t like this,” one of the Footsoldiers said. “There’s far too much that can go wrong.”

“If you’re backing out, I know hundreds who will take your place,” someone sent back. “They’d all volunteer too.”

“I wasn’t saying that,” the first Footsoldier said quickly. “I was just saying that she’s going to be a bitch to crack.”

The planning session was well underway when Chris was interrupted by a message, summoning him to report to the Admiral personally. He disengaged from the network and left the room, walking quickly through the corridors to the Admirals office, passing some of the clerical staff as he walked. Normally, he would have stopped to flirt with the girls, but time was pressing. It reminded him that he would have to ensure that his men spent some time in a brothel, or attending to their other needs, before they set out on the mission.

He’d expected to see the Admiral when he entered, but he was surprised to see another person sitting in the office, waiting for him. She was young — at least on the surface — blonde and surprisingly attractive. She wore the simple white uniform of the Technical Faction and carried an insignia he didn’t recognise.

“This is Captain Kelsey,” the Admiral said. “Captain, this is Paula Handley, a technical from Intelligence.”

Chris nodded, slowly. Intelligence was the heart of the Technical Faction, a distributed university that stretched across hundreds of asteroid settlements and research bases, including several that had gone rogue or created rogue AIs. He’d visited once when he’d been looking for his future career, but he hadn’t found patient study to be a suitable career path. Research work bored him when he could be blowing things up.

“She will be accompanying you on your mission,” the Admiral continued. “She…”

“Absolutely not,” Chris said, firmly. By long tradition, the CO of a given mission had absolute authority — and responsibility. “I cannot take a civilian into a combat zone.”

“The entire galaxy is a combat zone,” the Admiral snapped, coldly. “Paula has volunteered to accompany you…”

“She’s not trained, or checked out on the suits, or anything else,” Chris said, equally coldly. “She will be nothing more than a liability…”

“She has a name, you know,” Paula snapped, irritated. “I do know the risks and I do accept them.”

“We have to consider the possibility of failure as well,” the Admiral said, before Chris could say something cutting about civilians who didn’t know what they were getting into. “If your teams are wiped out, we still need to learn what we can, even if it’s only what killed you all. Paula will carry observation equipment and she’s the closest thing we have to an expert on their gravity technology. Your men are good, but they don’t have the understanding she has, so she’s going. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Chris said, annoyed. He scowled at Paula. “You will do exactly as I tell you at all times. I don’t have the time or the patience to deal with disobedience. If you turn into a liability, we will simply abandon you, understand?”

“Yes,” Paula said. He was pleased to see that she didn’t back down easily. “I understand.”

“Good,” Chris said. “Now, come with me. We’ll go get you checked out on a suit.” He smiled, suddenly. “Feel free to change your mind at any time.”

Chapter Five

At first there was nothing, and then there was pain, a strange distant pain that almost felt as if it were happening to someone else who just happened to share her body. She wavered on the edge of awareness for a long time — hours or days or months or years; she couldn’t tell and they all seemed believable — before slowly struggling up towards the light. Her eyes flicked open, yet she could see nothing, but darkness. It was a moment before a strange green glow — the emergency illumination system, her mind whispered to her — penetrated her eyelids and illuminated the cockpit. She was lying in the wreckage of her scout ship.

“I’m alive?” She said, or tried to say. Her throat hurt in a manner she hadn’t felt since she’d swallowed something far too large on a bet, back at the training centre. Her mouth was dry and tasted foul; her body seemed paralysed, unable to move. A wave of panic swept through her mind and she found herself twisted and turning in the chair before remembering the straps that bound her safely, protecting her from sudden acceleration. “What happened?”

Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi lay back and concentrated on summoning up information from her implants. Nothing happened, not even a ping to reassure her that they still had minimum levels of power. That was impossible, her mind insisted while she reeled in shock; no one ever lost their implants. Only prisoners and criminals were stripped of the internal network devices that were the birthright of every human and she wasn’t a criminal, was she? Her head felt so musty — normally, her implants would have cleaned her mind and helped her return to sanity — that it was impossible to be sure of anything, even her own name. She didn’t even know what she was doing in the cockpit of a scout ship…

Memory returned and she tried to sit upright, only to be held down by the straps. The Killers, the Killer star system, the dismantling of an entire star system… and her final death at the hands of a Killer ship… except that she wasn’t dead. Her mind wondered briefly if she were in heaven or hell, but it felt too real to be either; her body hurt badly, too badly. It was an effort to move her fingers, but finally she was able to undo the straps and release herself from the chair. She struggled to pull herself out of the chair, straining against an unusually heavy gravity field, and finally managed to stagger onto her feet. The gravity pulled at her and she almost collapsed onto the deck, before steadying herself on the console. It was as dark and silent as the grave.

“Report,” she ordered, hearing her own voice for the first time. “Report.”

The AI didn’t answer her. Chiyo repeated her command, but there was no response from a system that should have remained online permanently, short of the complete destruction of the scout ship. Her hands danced across the control console, but there was no response, not even from the emergency systems. It, combined with the loss of her implants, suggested that the entire craft had been completely drained of power.

But that can’t be right, she thought, dazed. Her implants drew their power from her own body. They shouldn’t have gone offline until she died and some, including the MassMind recording implant, should have remained online permanently. It would have completed its recording of her life and personality, everything that made her what she was, and waited patiently for a chance to upload her into the MassMind. A flicker of panic ran through her mind; she had known, intellectually, that she risked losing immortality if the Killers caught her and killed her, but now it was terrifyingly real. She touched the side of her head, half-hoping that she could still feel the implants under her fingers, but there was nothing apart from smooth skin. She had never been able to feel the implants, yet she had always known they were there.

It took her another ten minutes to confirm that almost all of the scout ship’s systems were online. The emergency illumination system used a natural bio-luminance rather than anything powered, or it would have been killed as well by the Killers. She remembered the last moments of her flight and wondered just where she was. Was she a prisoner, or was her craft now melded into the strange structures the Killers had been building around the star? The thought was chilling. No one would have a hope of being able to rescue her and she would die, inevitably, if she ran out of oxygen. The emergency illumination system also acted as an emergency air freshener, but it wouldn’t last forever. It wasn’t designed to serve as more than an emergency measure.

“Shit,” she said, just to hear her own voice. The entire craft was hauntingly quiet. She opened up one of the emergency supply boxes and pulled out a bar of semi-chocolate, eating it quickly to gain what energy she could, while taking stock of her supplies. They might last, if she were careful, little more than a week, yet the absence of fresh water would kill her far quicker. The recycling system was completely down, along with the implants that would scrub her system and keep her healthy. She chuckled, bitterly. She’d been saved from certain death to be transported to a more lingering and unpleasant death at the hands of her own body and its demands. Oddly, it felt liberating. If death was certain, she might as well risk everything.

She turned back to the cockpit and tried to open the hatches covering the viewport. They refused to open, even when she attempted to use the manual system. That suggested that the system was either jammed, or there was something outside preventing them from opening. If the latter… it did suggest that they were encased in something, but what? Her mind returned to the image of the tiny craft melded into the structure the Killers were building and she shivered. If that were the case, she was dead, yet the Killer should have dismantled her craft — and her — completely, right down to the bare atoms. There was no reason why they would have kept her craft intact, unless they wanted a prisoner, but they had never shown any interest in taking humans prisoner before. What — if anything — had changed?

A brief search of the emergency supplies turned up a plasma pistol — dead — a lighting wand — also dead — and a very primitive design of firearm, shooting material bullets rather than energy rays. There was no way to check it — she couldn’t even remember why the weapon was included among the emergency supplies without her memory implants — but merely buckling it onto her belt gave her a feeling of confidence. She examined the survival belt quickly, but there was little that was actually useful to her, although she would have been reasonably well-equipped if she had crashed on a planet’s surface. Her gaze fell to the final item in the belt and she winced. It was a black injector marked with a skull and crossbones, a suicide capsule. If there was no way out and nothing ahead, but a slow lingering death…

She shook her head, dismissing the thought, and walked over to the hatch leading to the outside. She considered pulling on a space suit before deciding only to wear a breath mask; if the outside was that hostile, she was dead anyway. Besides, the spacesuits were as dead as the rest of the craft. The mask wouldn’t last for long either. She stepped through the airlock and had to struggle with the manual release before it slowly cranked open. It was more of a struggle than she remembered, but then, she hadn’t had to do it since her first training session. No one had anticipated something that would kill every system on the craft, but leave her alive.

I shall have to inform them to change their procedures, Chiyo thought, as she peered out. No wave of outpouring air threw her into empty space; no mass of implacable metal confronted her. Instead, she was staring into an empty bay, illuminated only by glowing green smoke. It was an eerie sight and she found herself rooted to the spot, before she realised where she had to be. She was onboard a Killer starship, the first human ever to set foot on one of their ships — as far as she knew. If she had been taken onboard, it was quite likely that others had been as well… and vanished. No one had returned from such an encounter. She stepped gingerly onto the deck and was relieved to find that it was solid below her feet. The mists seemed to withdraw slightly as she stepped forward, circling the remains of her scout ship, but pressed in behind her. She couldn’t see more than a few meters ahead of her.

The scout ship looked as if it had been in the wars; it was scorched and pitted, every sensor node or weapons system burned out. It was so far beyond any theory that Chiyo abandoned any lingering thoughts she’d had of recharging the scout ship and escaping — as if escape were possible. Whatever the Killers had done to her ship had killed it stone dead. She turned away from the craft and stared into the mists. After a moment, the mists cleared in front of her, revealing a path into the heart of the starship. It occurred to her that the mists were the Killers, but it seemed impossible. It was far more likely that they were just part of their environmental system. She wished, desperately, that she had a working remote sensor. She would have loved to know what the mists actually were, or even what was in the atmosphere.

The breath mask fell from her face before she could react and she found herself gulping in a mouthful of their air. It was cold and clammy, but breathable. The working theory about the Killers suggested that they came from a planet like Earth, which suggested that they would breathe a similar atmosphere to humanity, yet no one had ever located a Killer-inhabited world. They might destroy inhabited worlds with gay abandon, but they didn’t even seem to settle the worlds themselves, or even the uninhabited Earth-like worlds they encountered. It was another mystery surrounding them and she wondered if they were providing an atmosphere suitable for her. If that were the case, it was yet another reminder that she was completely dependent on them for everything, including life-support. She was nothing more than a prisoner.

She took another breath and walked slowly into the mists. They closed in around her, seemingly just out of reach, and orbited her threateningly. She looked behind her, but the scout ship had already vanished into the mists and she was certain — very certain — that if she ran back, she would discover that the scout ship had vanished. There was nothing for it, but to press onward through the mists and see where the Killers wanted her to go. There was nothing else she could do. It felt as if she had been walking for hours — an effect of the higher gravity — and she almost yawned as she stopped for a rest. The mists boiled around her — she was sure that she could see shapes within the mist, although it might have been just her imagination — but she waited until she had caught her breath before continuing. There was little point in hurrying.

The mists cleared away suddenly, revealing a small room packed with strange machinery. Some looked to be comparable to the remote orbital manufacturing machines that humanity used to construct its starships, others looked so different, so alien, that she found herself developing a headache just looking at them. She looked behind her to see a blank wall. Wherever she was now, she was trapped — but then, she’d been trapped all along. There hadn’t even been the illusion of freedom. The air seemed somehow tenser now, as if Bad Things were waiting to happen, yet she could see no sign of anything moving. The compartment seemed as dark and silent as her scout ship had been, after she’d been taken prisoner…

Something moved behind her. Before she could react, she found herself scooped up by a giant machine and deposited inside one of the other machines, floating inside a tank of air. It took her a second to realise that she was inside a variable gravity field inside another gravity field — humanity couldn’t do that, yet the Killers did it so casually — before feeling a tingle at the back of her head. Strange lights flickered across her eyelids and she realised that her body was being scanned. She wondered what they would use as she struggled to control her panic — it could be anything from primitive x-rays and ultrasounds to something unimaginably advanced — but there was no clue. A buzzing noise echoed through her ears and rapidly became a high-pitched sound that made her scream in pain, before being replaced by sound waves that were too low for her to hear, yet she could feel them running through her body. Her teeth hurt suddenly, for no reason she could determine, before a stab of pain went through her head. It occurred to her that they were torturing her, rather than examining her to see what made her tick, yet they weren’t even shouting any questions. It was like a child pulling the wings off flies.

She blacked out as another dull sound echoed through her body. When she awoke, she found herself lying naked on an operating table, staring up into blinding white light. She tried to close her eyes, or to turn away from the glare, but her body refused to move. It was completely paralysed. Another wave of panic passed through her mind, but if the Killers noticed, they didn’t care. She saw something glimmering in the corner of her eyes and, as it moved down towards her forehead, she realised that it was a long silver needle. They were going to drill right into her head! She wanted, desperately, to scream, but even that relief was denied her as the needle slid neatly into her forehead… and she blacked out again as pain flared through her entire body.

There was a brief moment of blackness, and then she felt her entire body twitch, shaking violently against the paralysis. She was itching everywhere, but she couldn’t scratch, or even move of her own volition. Waves of emotion washed over her- she found herself utterly terrified one moment, completely delighted the next and unbearably aroused the third — and she realised that the Killers were touching off emotions in her head, just to see what happened. They’d turned her into an experimental animal, yet it made no sense. They’d never shown any interest in individual humans before…

But how would we know? She asked herself. They could have taken thousands of humans from Earth, or one of the other worlds they Killed; we wouldn’t have seen them if they didn’t want us to see them. They could have kidnapped the entire population of Earth without any problems…

Other probes were descending now from the light, advancing down and burning their way into her body. Oddly, they hurt less, as if the aliens had decided not to hurt her any longer, or if they’d permanently damaged her body’s ability to feel pain. She feared the latter, even as she hoped for the former; if they were showing compassion, they might be inclined to talk to her, or even to recognise her as a living person in her own right. It didn’t seem likely. Even if they stopped probing her body now, she was still going to be badly injured. With her nanites offline, she would be reduced to nothing more than baseline human, like the idiots who tried to colonise worlds without high technology convinced that the absence of technology would save them from the Killers. Could her body recover from such abuse? It had been so long since she had studied medicine and all her implanted memory stores were offline. There was no way to learn what she needed to know quickly enough to matter.

Something else to report when I get home, she thought, dazed. The pain was fading away almost completely now, replaced by a sense of… harmony. It dawned on her that she was being tranquillised, but suddenly it was hard to care. The absence of pain alone was worth everything to her. Her mind kept blanking out and restarting, yet somehow she wasn’t concerned at all. It didn’t matter to her. She could barely form a coherent thought.

A shock ran through her body and she found herself jerking on the table. The needles had vanished, replaced by streams of light that seemed to flicker on the edge of perception. As they passed over her face, she recalled events in the past that seemed of staggering importance; her first day at school, the first boy she’d kissed, the first moment when a boy had gently slid between her legs and countless others. It made no sense to her that the Killers would be interested in such matters, then it dawned on her that she was having flashbacks, and then she realised that they were triggering her memories, perhaps even reading them directly. The sense of violation wasn’t enough to convince them to leave her alone and she couldn’t blot out the memories. She tried to remember bad times, but they refused to focus. The Killers were ripping her mind apart, tearing into her to learn whatever they wanted to learn. There was a moment of pain, a moment of complete and total violation, a moment of darkness…

And then she was looking down on her body from the outside.

Chapter Six

“I have a live feed from the Observer,” Lieutenant Gary Young said, from his position at the tactical console. “They’re transmitting directly to the attack wing.”

“Show me,” Captain Andrew Ramage said, linking his mind into the Lightning’s main computer. “Put it on the main display.”

The image of the Killer starship appeared in front of him, sending a shiver down his spine. It was over twenty kilometres long, far larger than any starship in his attack wing, and looked as if it was effortlessly maintaining its speed, a leisurely four hundred times the speed of light. A human starship could have matched that in a warp bubble, but hundreds of years of research hadn’t managed to determine how the Killers achieved such speeds without a warp bubble themselves, or an Anderson Drive. The massive starship seemed unaware of the Observer, which had been tailing it for the last three years ever since human explorers had stumbled across its course, but Andrew doubted that the Killers were truly unaware of the picket’s presence. It was far more likely that they just didn’t care.

But they had good reasons not to care, he reminded himself bitterly. No Killer starship had been lost in combat against the Human Defence Force since the Defence Force had been formed. He wasn’t expecting to take out this Killer starship either; the attack wing was there merely to distract the Killers and preventing them from realising that they were being boarded until it was far too late. The plan had seemed workable on paper, but now he was looking at the starship, he had an urge to go find a less daunting target instead. It seemed impossible that the Killers could fail to realise that they were being boarded. They would swat his fleet like gnats.

He sent a command into the system and watched as the seventy-two destroyers of his attack wing checked in, confirming that they were ready for action. Humanity could have built their own starships to the same scale of the Killers, but it would merely have given the Killers a target they could hardly miss. Their weapons would blow the Lightning apart with a single shot, if they scored a direct hit; the only defence the destroyer had was not to be there when the Killers fired. At seventy meters long, the destroyers were the most manoeuvrable starships in the galaxy. If anything could evade the Killers and their impossible weapons, it was his attack wing.

“Stand by to jump,” he ordered, as the final results downloaded into his head. They had drilled and simulated and exercised every contingency they could, but if the Killers had any additional surprises, they wouldn’t know until they actually engaged the enemy. They should have had weapons that matched and exceeded everything humanity had produced, even in a thousand years of concentrating on building the most formidable weapons possible, but they had only showed humanity a handful of surprises. Perhaps they didn’t feel they needed more, or perhaps they were keeping their deadliest weapons in reserve for a real threat. There was no way to know. “Charge weapons.”

“Weapons charged,” Gary confirmed.

“Jump coordinates said,” Lieutenant David Dunagin confirmed, from the helm. “Anderson Drive is online and ready to jump.”

Andrew tensed. “Jump!”

There was a barely-perceptible sense of dislocation and then the display cleared, revealing the Killer starship, now close enough to be seen with the naked eye as a dark shadow blocking out the stars. The Anderson Drive, humanity’s proudest technical achievement, used a tachyon field to provide nearly infinitive speed. It couldn’t reach infinitive speed — the starship would quite literally occupy every point in the universe simultaneously — but it could get a starship clear across the galaxy, or outside, in a matter of hours. Hundreds of human starships had used the drive to flee the Milky Way for somewhere more habitable, with less hostile natives, but the drive had its own limitations. Moving the entire Community out of the Milky Way was logistically impossible.

“Enemy vessel twenty thousand kilometres away and closing,” Gary reported, as the destroyers proceeded under more normal warp drive. The Killer starship ignored them as they rocketed towards it, already falling into evasive patterns that should have made them hard to target. “No sign that they have detected us or are responding to us.”

“Understood,” Andrew said, watching the Killer starship though the Lightning’s sensor blisters. It didn’t seem to have any distortion caused by an FTL drive, or even any temporal shifts or space warps. It was just something else that the Killers did that humanity couldn’t do — yet. He had to remind himself that if they succeeded in capturing the Killer ship, they would have their first real insight into Killer technology. “Lock weapons on target and inform me when we are coming into firing range.”

“Weapons locked,” Gary confirmed. “The attack wing is following us and targeting their own weapons.”

Andrew smiled bitterly. They were about to unleash enough firepower to disintegrate several major worlds, yet the Killers would barely be troubled by the assault. They might not even respond, but based on prior encounters, they would eventually try to swat the gnats surrounding them. Oddly, he found that a hopeful sign; if the human assaults were so useless, why would they bother to try to drive them away?

On the other hand, gnats are just irritating, he thought, grimly. Humanity had managed to bring flies and cockroaches into space with them, along with a handful of farming animals, even though the rest had died off when Earth had been destroyed. There was no one, outside the MassMind, who had seen a tiger or a lion, an elephant or a rhino. There was nothing left of them, but radioactive ashes and memories the MassMind had turned into educational realities for the children, teaching them about what the Killers had stolen from humanity. Maybe they just want to swat us because we annoy them.

The Killer starship came closer and closer. It seemed impossible that the starship wasn’t aware of their presence — he was chillingly convinced that it was looking at the attack wing and dismissing any possibility of a threat — but the Killers just ignored the fleet. The range was closing rapidly — they could have fired at extreme range, but he intended to fire from point blank range — and he prepared himself. The time was almost right…

“Fire energy torpedoes,” he ordered. The starship jerked slightly as it unleashed its main weapons onto the Killer starship. “Helm, begin random evasive manoeuvres!”

The energy torpedoes lanced out of the starship’s weapons blisters, crossed the distance between the two ships at just under the speed of light, and detonated against the hull. Each shot would have been enough to seriously damage the Lightning, but the Killer starship was barely scratched, if at all. The explosions lit up the darkness of space, yet there was no trace of any serious damage. The bombardment from the other starships lit up the entire side of the Killer starship in flickering eerie light as the remainder of the attack wing followed them in… and then the Killer starship vanished.

“They’ve cut their drives,” David reported. That was another mystery about the Killers. They seemed to be able to come to a dead stop instantly without suffering any damage or losing their drives. No one quite understood how the Killers did it. “Course laid in.”

“Take us back to them, attack pattern alpha-four,” Andrew ordered, tightly. At such speeds, the distance between the attack wing and their target closed rapidly. “Gary, open fire as soon as they come into range.”

The Killer starship was already dumping heat from the attack, he saw, but the starship seemed undamaged. It waited patiently for the human attack ships to come back into range, seemingly ignoring their shots as they crashed against its hull and faded out, watching them. He had the sense that it was angry now at having been forced to cut its speed, or perhaps at the imprudence of the gnats who dared to launch an attack on it’s monstrous bulk.

“Weapons locked,” Gary said. “Opening fire… energy spike!”

The Killer starship came alive, launching a ball of white light towards the human starships, which broke into a series of evasive patterns to avoid the incoming shot. It missed, but the Killers kept firing, launching ball after ball towards their targets. One of them struck a human starship directly and blew it into flaming debris; another came too close to a second human starship and was somehow attracted to its hull, acting almost like a missile as it blew the starship apart. Andrew tensed as a ball of white light came too close to the Lightning, but apparently not close enough to be attracted to the human ship.

“Keep dodging,” he ordered, tartly. Oddly, now that the penny had dropped, he felt more reassured. The worst was already happening. “Take us in. Attack pattern beta-nine.”

The Lightning and four of her consorts swooped down on the Killer starship, firing as they came. Andrew watched as the energy torpedoes struck home on the Killer weapon ports, but they didn’t seem to be enough to prevent the Killers from firing back, even though every time an energy torpedo struck the hull the Killer starship’s power curves seemed to jump. The human researchers suspected that the Killers actually used their seemingly unlimited power reserves to strengthen their hull against attack, but no one knew for sure. It was just another mystery that he hoped capturing one of their ships would solve.

“They hit the Defiant,” Gary noted, as one of their wingmen blew apart in a blaze of white light. The Killers were firing much more rapidly now as the Lighting flew away from their starship, allowing other units to launch their own attacks. Andrew called up the readings from the active sensors and studied the results grimly. Apart from massive fluctuations in their power grid, the Killer starship might almost have been untouched. “Sir, I request permission to engage with antimatter torpedoes.”

“Permission granted,” Andrew said, shortly. “Fire at will.”

Antimatter torpedoes were the most powerful weapon humanity had invented, yet they had their own limitations. They couldn’t be used as energy weapons, but had to be fired as material missiles that could be shot down by the enemy point defence — if the Killers had their own point defence. They had certainly never demonstrated any such capability in the past. Gary launched a spread of torpedoes right towards the Killer ship, joined by spreads from other starships as they joined the attack before evading the furious return fire, and Andrew watched as the torpedoes struck home. The entire Killer starship seemed to be wrapped in white light for a long second, and he wondered if they had, by some miracle, destroyed it, and then it burst out of the explosion, still firing. It seemed totally untouched.

That’s not possible, part of his mind gibbered. The Killer starship was taking a beating that should have destroyed it long ago, yet if there was any actual damage, there was no sign of it — apart from the fluctuating power grid. He sent a query into the MassMind, which was watching through the live feed from the attack wing, asking it to compute if the Killer power grid could be overloaded. If it were possible to overload the field holding the Iceberg together, perhaps the starships could be destroyed after all.

The response came back within three minutes, which was unbearably long for the MassMind, the greatest computing resource that humanity had ever created. It should have had the answer almost instantaneously. It had concluded that it should be possible, but the power levels required were astronomical and the Technical Faction would have to invent a whole new kind of weapon to handle the task. Andrew fired a request that the Technical Faction invent the weapon yesterday and turned his attention back to the battle. It wasn’t going well. The Killers had picked off twenty-three starships so far and were concentrating on the others. The more they picked off, the less damage humanity could inflict — such as it was — and in the end, they would have to flee the battle.

“But at least its not like it was at High Singapore,” he muttered. He’d not been present at the battle, but he had studied it carefully. The Killers had forced the Defence Force to stand and fight, while his attack wing could keep ducking and dodging, forcing the Killers to work to hit each of his ships. He could drag the battle out indefinitely, yet the Killers would eventually open a wormhole and escape, or force him to back off, having inflicted little damage. Another human starship’s icon flickered and vanished.

“Gary,” he said, suddenly. “Open a general channel to the attack wing. I want everyone concentrating on targeting the following coordinates; I want them to break off and form up on us.”

“Aye, sir,” Garry said, as Andrew sent the coordinates. The attack wing fell back, leaving the Killer starship to lick its wounds, and assembled around the Lightning. “Concentrated fire, sir?”

“Yes,” Andrew said. He heard the savage tone in his own voice and it shocked him. “Take us in.”

The Killers didn’t ignore them this time, he saw, as they opened fire savagely as the fleet descended on their target coordinates. Two more human starships vanished in flares of white light, but the remainder survived and opened fire, pounding the same coordinates time and time again. Wave after wave of energy torpedoes, antimatter torpedoes and even high-power plasma cannons slammed into the Killer hull, sending the power curves spinning like crazy. Andrew felt an absurd moment of hope. Were they actually going to blow right through the Killer hull? It was almost worth losing the chance to capture a Killer ship just to prove that it was possible to destroy one. The War Council and the Admiral would be annoyed — no, the Admiral would understand. Humanity needed the boost in morale dreadfully. The War Council might even be delighted themselves, although they would be worried about Killer retaliation. Andrew tended to dismiss that thought himself. What could the Killers do that was worse than what they’d already done?

A shockwave rushed through space and knocked the starships away from their target, sending them spinning helplessly through space. It took the helm several minutes to regain control, by which time they were already hundreds of thousands of kilometres from their target. Andrew watched red lights flare up on the ship status board and cursed. The Killers had revealed another surprise.

“Report,” he barked. It was almost like being caught up in a wave. He’d never been in a real boat, but he’d been in simulated perceptual environments in the MassMind. They were almost real. “What did they hit us with?”

“Some kind of gravity wave,” Gary said, concentrating on his console. “They just knocked us away from their position; seven starships were destroyed by the wave. We got lucky, sir. If we’d been closer, the gravity wave would have ripped us apart.”

Andrew brought up the feed from Observer and scowled. The Killer starship actually had been damaged, he saw now, but it had been able to counter their attack with a new weapon. It was the first time any human starship had been able to make them sit up and take notice, yet it wasn’t enough to destroy them, only enough to force them to reveal a whole new weapon system. It would have to be countered and that would take time. It was even possible that the entire mission would have to be called off…

He shook his head. They’d lost too many people to call off the mission, not now.

“Order the fleet to regroup around us,” he said, examining the live feed. He’d started with seventy-two destroyers, a full wing. He was down to forty craft, two so badly damaged as to be beyond savaging. There was little point in asking them to remain with the fleet and he ordered them to jump home. “Prepare to fire noisemakers.”

He checked the feed from Observer again and noted the position of the Footsoldier landing craft. Unlike the destroyers, the landing craft were doing everything in their power to remain unnoticed. They weren’t firing or broadcasting anything; they were just using the live feed from the other starships and the MassMind to keep on course. They would be in launching position within seconds…

“Take us in,” he ordered, and designated a course with his mind. The remaining starships fell in around the Lightning as it raced back towards the Killer starship. It grew closer again and, this time, he had the satisfaction of seeing that it was definitely damaged. Whatever self-repair functions the Killer starship possessed, it was already using, but it was damaged! They had scored a victory! It might not be a true victory, it might not have been a destroyed ship, but it was something to take home and use to boost morale. “Lock noisemakers on target.”

“Noisemakers locked,” Gary confirmed. A moment passed as the Killer starship drew closer. “Entering effective operating range now.”

“Fire,” Andrew ordered tightly. “Full spread.”

Noisemakers weren’t weapons at all, not in a conventional sense. They caused nothing, but a volley of heavy distortion that would confuse any sensor for vital seconds — any human sensor. The Killers would be blind for just long enough to allow the Footsoldiers to land without seeing them, unless they had impossible sensors to go with all the other impossible things they had. If they saw the Footsoldiers coming, there would be a quick slaughter and that would be the end of the mission.

“The Footsoldiers are launching now,” Gary confirmed. “They’re on their way.”

“Good,” Andrew ordered. “General signal to the attack force; pull back to observation position and wait. It’s out of our hands now.”

Chapter Seven

The Armoured Combat Suit was humanity’s most advanced infantry weapon. It wrapped its wearer in armour that was impregnable to most handheld weapons and carried enough firepower to dominate an entire starship. The AI installed within the suit could act in concert with its wearer or independently, even to the point of operating the suit without a wearer or transporting a critically wounded user out of the battle zone. It could have devastated any pre-space human force without even noticing the effort.

It all fell into the proper context as the Killer starship grew closer. It had long since ceased to be a mere starship; it had rapidly become an approaching horizon, or a planet towards which the Footsoldiers were rapidly falling. The starship was vast enough to generate its own mild gravity field, reeling the Footsoldiers in without forcing them to use their own motive systems. In theory, the Killer starship was no larger — even smaller — than one of the asteroids the Footsoldiers had raided in times gone by. In practice, it was far more formidable and Captain Chris Kelsey felt as if he were wearing nothing more than paper. Indeed, some of the planners had seriously considered going without the armour and relying on speed and stealth.

It seemed impossible that the Killers were unaware of their approach, but nothing arose to bar their path, nor did any energy weapons burn them out of space. The Killer weapons somehow caused direct matter-energy conversion and utterly annihilated whatever they hit and he was grimly aware that the suits would provide no protection at all against even a glancing hit. The Killers wouldn’t even care about the possibility of damage to their own ship. The complete destruction of the armoured force wouldn’t even scratch the paint.

He prepared himself as the suits fell down towards the surface — what he had to think of as the surface, to avoid vertigo — and fought the insane urge to cut in the antigravity systems and flee. The Killer starship came closer and closer and before he knew it, he was touching down on the surface. New icons blinked up on his HUD as the suit analysed the Killer hull, but concluded that it was unable to identify any of the elements in the material. The suit could keep them attached to the surface, a lucky break in an environment where a jump could see them flying off into space beyond all hope of rescue, yet it couldn’t determine much else about the hull. Chris had once bored his way into an enemy-held asteroid by using a simple burner, but that wouldn’t be an option here.

“Link up,” he ordered, quietly. The suits went active and linked up into a single fighting force. In theory, the transmissions were so low-powered that nothing could detect them unless they were looking for them, but he had already decided to assume that the Killers would know that they were there. Human starships had hull-monitoring systems and he had to assume that the Killers were no different. “Jack, check the hull.”

One of the suits, completely indistinguishable from the others, knelt down and pushed a small device against the black hull metal. There was a brief orange glow and then the device fell off the surface of the ship, rising into the darkness of space until Jack caught it and returned it to his belt. Chris bit down a curse. He’d hoped that the molecular disintegration device would allow them to cut into the hull and hopefully avoid having to go in an entrance that the Killers knew far better than his men, but it hadn’t worked. IT had seemed a long shot, but it had had to be tried.

“The disintegration field was instantly countered, sir,” Jack said, through the communications link. “The hull just pushed the gadget away somehow.”

Chris nodded to himself, looking down at the hull. Streaks of white light were flaring under their feet, gathering around them… or so it seemed. It was as if they were standing on top of the icy surface of a lake, looking down at submarines operating under the water, with nothing visible but the lights. The energy pattern seemed to be constantly shifting and changing, suggesting that the Killers were aware of their presence, even if they hadn’t bothered to actually do anything about it. He was overwhelmed with a sense that something was watching them from just under the hull, like a mouse hidden behind the mouse hole, unable to see the cat, but knowing that he was there, waiting. His suit countered the flash of near-panic at once; it injected various stimulants into his system and kept him concentrated. Chris gathered himself quickly. Suits had been known to declare their occupants unfit for combat before and he didn’t want to retire. Not yet.

“This way,” he said, and led the Footsoldiers across the hull. At starship speeds, two kilometres was nothing; they wouldn’t even notice travelling so far. On their scale, it was nearly ten minutes before they reached their destination, passing all kinds of strange blisters and instruments on the hull. He had to urge Paula to keep up with them, despite her protests that studying the tools on the hull would advance the cause of science, and silently cursed the decision to bring her. If the Admiral hadn’t insisted…

They came across the entrance suddenly, a massive blocky hole leading into the heart of the starship, and he peered down it with the suit’s lights. The hole seemed never-ending, but he had to keep reminding himself that it might be nothing more than the barrel of a gun, or something worse. The vision of suddenly being blown to pieces by a Killer weapon firing while he was in its barrel made him smile as he extended a series of remote probes, checking that the passageway actually led somewhere important. It seemed to terminate at one side of a recognisable hatch, but without the regulation opening wheels that a human asteroid habitat would have had. He smiled at the irony — it would have been far too easy to just walk inside, even if they had recognised a Killer opening device — and led four of his men down the rabbit hull.

“Material unclassified, but apparently class-four density,” the suit’s AI said, when he pushed his hand and its sensors up against the hatch. Chris allowed himself another smile. Class-four density was normally sufficient to keep out an unarmoured human, but the suits could probably smash their way right through it. He lifted one armoured gauntlet, made a fist, and smashed it home against the hatch. The metal dented under his blow, allowing the AI to continue its analysis. “Confirmed; class-four density.”

“Keep thumping it, in other words,” Chris said, as the other Footsoldiers joined him. The hatch rapidly collapsed under their blows. The Killers might have had counter-systems for the more advanced cutting tools, but they hadn’t thought of raw physical force. A rush of green mist washed past him as the hatch finally shattered, streaming out towards the darkness of space before cutting off abruptly. Chris didn’t hesitate; he launched a stream of remote drones forward into the mists, before following them into the alien starship. The gravity field caught him at once and sent the suit crashing to the deck, although it was able to cushion him from the shock.

“Two standard gravities,” the suit AI said, passing the information up the chain to the remainder of the Footsoldiers and the waiting starships. “I am detecting the presence of a class-two force field four meters ahead and a second ten meters behind.”

Chris said nothing. He was too busy examining the alien interior. He was, oddly, rather disappointed. His imagination had suggested everything from the interior of a giant biological starship, even though humanity had never even come close to inventing a biological starship that might actually work, to a completely alien structure. Instead, they were inside a corridor that looked almost exactly like a human starship’s interior, except on a larger scale. The creatures who lived on the starship, he hazarded a guess, were actually at least twice the size of an average human; they would have no difficulty manoeuvring through the corridors in their suits.

“Team one, with me,” he ordered, quietly. He had to assume that the Killers were already dispatching counter-boarding forces to their location. They had to have noticed the hull breach and the loss of some of their atmosphere. “Team two, take the other passageway. Team three; secure this location and blast anyone who isn’t us.”

A class-two force field wasn’t designed to prevent someone from breaking in so much as it was designed to prevent the atmosphere from leaking out. Chris walked up to the force field, paused long enough to allow the suit’s AI to confirm its first readings, and then pushed himself against the force field. Without his armour, it would have tingled, but he didn’t feel anything as he forced his way through the field. It sparkled around the suit, but that was all, leaving him standing alone in the midst of the green mists.

“Analyse,” he ordered. Everyone had assumed that the Killers breathed the same mix as humans did — they’d wiped out hundreds of races that breathed oxygen, as far as humanity could tell — but the mists suggested otherwise. “What’s in that muck?”

“Local environmental conditions; unsafe,” the AI said, pedantically. “The local atmosphere consists of hydrogen, helium, nitrogen, methane, ammonia, water vapour and unidentifiable organic chemicals. The atmosphere is utterly impossible to breathe; do not attempt to crack your suit.”

Chris rolled his eyes. The problem with the suit AIs was that they seemed to assume that they were there to look after the humans — which they were — and that the humans were incapable of looking after themselves. Every warning had to be repeated, every danger had to be pointed out and the humans, in effect, had to be coddled. It irritated almost everyone who had to deal with them, but it was the price for developing AIs that were capable of handling the requirements of the task without getting bored.

“Temperature is around 50C,” the AI continued. “Lighting is over 50% ultraviolet and appears to be changing brightness slowly on an apparently random basis. These conditions match no known world.”

“Thanks,” Chris said, sourly. He launched another flight of remote drones — small enough to be unnoticeable and completely expendable — and watched as they flew off into the heart of the Killer starship. “Are you detecting any life signs?”

“Negative,” the AI said. “No life signs detected.”

An icon flashed up on his HUD, warning him that Paula wanted to talk to him. “Allow call,” he ordered. At least he didn’t have to be civil in the midst of a war situation. “What is it?”

“No life form that we are familiar with can survive in such an atmosphere,” Paula said, stating the obvious. At least she didn’t sound as if she were panicking. “It’s possible that the Killer crew of this ship are beyond our ability to perceive them, or to recognise them as forms of life. They could be all around us now.”

Chris looked up towards the green mists billowing around the team and shivered. Could the green mists be the Killers? The AI had picked up unidentifiable organic chemicals in the atmosphere and all life was chemicals, at least at the start. He levelled his plasma cannon towards the mists, and then realised the futility of that action. Shooting plasma bolts through the mists would accomplish nothing.

“Warning,” the AI said, suddenly. “Firing plasma weapons in this environment may cause explosions.”

“Disengage the plasma weapons,” Chris ordered, sharply. The Killers had, accidentally or otherwise, prevented them from using half of their weapons. It was possible that an explosion wouldn’t harm the team — their suits should be able to handle it — but there was no point in taking chances. “Deploy the arrow guns.”

“Deployed, sir,” they said, one by one.

“Follow me,” Chris ordered. “Come on.”

The internal map of the starship built up in front of him as the various teams advanced into the heart of the Killer starship. The remote drones sped ahead of them, charting out the interior and watching for threats, although none seemed to materialise. The links back to the starships didn’t break, but random bursts of static and confusion seemed to overwhelm the datalinks for heart-stopping seconds. The starship seemed to be making random internal RF transmissions, for no apparent reason. They passed out of the corridors into a brightly-lit room filled with strange alien machinery, but it was beyond their ability to understand immediately. Chris took one look at a device that seemed to have more angles than he would have thought possible, and then dismissed it out of his mind. The scientists at Star’s End would have to work on the captured ship — if they captured it — and work out how it all went together. He couldn’t even begin to understand it.

He looked up as the green mists pressed closer again, despite the brighter light, and he shivered. No one seemed to be able to touch the mists; they just fell back from grasping hands or fast motions. The suit’s sensors couldn’t tell him much about the mists, apart from the fact they seemed to be composed of the same components as the remainder of the alien atmosphere. It struck him as odd that any race would have mists on its starships — a human starship had to remain as clean as possible, for fear of damaging components — but perhaps it made sense to the Killers, or perhaps they needed it for their bodies, just as humans needed something akin to sunlight.

“We should have let the Spacers do this,” Lieutenant Grame Wheelock muttered, as they passed yet another piece of impossible machinery. “They’d be able to live in this muck.”

“Maybe not,” Chris said, absently. “The radiation levels in this ship are quite high.”

“They might be trying to induce mutation,” Paula said, from her position at the rear. Chris felt another flicker of resentment; five of his men were guarding her, rather than allowing her to live or die as another Footsoldier. “There were old theories that suggested that we could use radiation to push forward evolution. They never worked for humanity, but it might work for the Killers. We know nothing about their biology.”

“Perhaps,” Chris said, unwilling to dismiss it out of hand, but knowing nothing about the background. “Look at this.”

He stopped outside a lighted column that seemed to rise into the endless green mists. At first, he could see nothing inside the column, but as he peered into the light, he started to see shapes within, strange crystalline shapes that danced just on the edge of perception. He pushed the suit’s sensors against the column, convinced somehow that it was important and frowned. The column was made out of a transparent metal that was stronger than anything humans knew. There was no way they could break into the light to find out what it was.

“I’m getting only a low-powered reading from it,” Paula said, as she joined him. “Whatever it is, it isn’t part of the starship’s power supply. It reads out as almost organic.”

“Almost organic?” Chris asked. “Some kind of bioelectric system?”

“Could be,” Paula said. “Whatever it is, its emitting low-level transmissions as well as odder signals my systems cannot identify. We can barely pick them up. I’m recording everything and transmitting them back to the starships for the MassMind to analyse, but I fear it could take years before we unlock them, if we ever do.”

“I thought that codes could be broken instantly in the MassMind,” Jock said, as he came up to the hauntingly beautiful column. “Can’t you just crack it that quickly?”

“This is alien,” Paula said. “Even with the resources of the MassMind, it took years to decrypt the written languages on each of the dead worlds and they were apparently very close to humanity; they breathed the same air, ate the same foods… if the Killers hadn’t existed, we might have been competing with them for worlds and resources. The Killers are apparently more alien than anything else we know about, yet…”

She frowned as she leaned closer. “Yet I think I’m starting to build up a picture of how this starship distributes power,” she added. “I think some things are starting to make sense.”

Chris nodded impatiently. “Are you sure we’re heading in the right direction?”

“The power core of this ship is easy to detect now,” Paula assured him, seriously. The confidence in her voice surprised him. “We knew that much before we launched. I think, however, that the nerve centre of the ship is much closer to us.”

Chris frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“Because the alien power relays are very precise,” Paula said. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m betting that the core of the alien system is here” — she transmitted a location to his HUD — “because they all seem to spring from there. The other teams have located similar columns and all of them lead down there…”

“It’ll have to wait,” Jock snapped suddenly, as new shapes appeared at the edge of the room. The remote drones hadn’t even noticed their presence. Chris felt a chill run down his spine. Paula had speculated that the Killers might not even register as a form of life to the sensors. Had they been missed completely? “We’ve got company!”

“Ready weapons,” Chris snapped, sharply. The Killers had finally responded to their presence. The shapes might still be obscured within the mists, but they were definitely there and almost certainly hostile. He peered at them through the suit’s sensors, yet no signs of life revealed themselves, suggesting that they were robots. The mists cleared suddenly, revealing Octopus-like machines staring at the humans. “Stand by…”

A moment later, the machines lunged forward. “Open fire!”

Chapter Eight

Before Paula could react, her suit took over and sent her diving down to the deck. She hit it hard enough to shake even the suit as new red warnings flared up in her HUD, warning her of enemy fire nearby. She felt her head spin as new downloaded memories bubbled to the surface, pushing her to crawl away from the firing as fast as she could, leaving the Footsoldiers to defend themselves without having to worry about her. She still wanted to know what was going on and to see the Killer machines directly, but her suit remained in firm control, keeping her out of the firing line. They weren’t going to risk her life any further.

Part of Paula’s mind insisted that that was silly; she was in the heart of an alien starship, one commanded by a race that had thought nothing of frying all seven billion humans on Earth when they’d stumbled across the Solar System. The remainder of her mind was grateful; it took years to learn how to handle a suit properly and the brief lessons she’d had — and the downloaded memories — weren’t enough to make her an armoured combatant. It was more likely that she’d accidentally shoot her own side from the rear.

“Show me the feed from their suits,” she ordered, as the suit kept crawling away. “Show me what they’re seeing.”

The image appeared in front of her and she winced. Humanity had given its androids and other repair systems a vaguely humanoid form, but the Killers hadn’t bothered — or perhaps they did look like giant Octopuses. The machines seemed to have little sense of tactics — they marched relentlessly into the teeth of the Footsoldiers and their weapons — but they just kept coming. It was hard to tell if they had any vital components to hit at all; judging from the way they kept moving, Paula wouldn’t have bet against them having to be reduced completely to junk before they would stop moving. They didn’t seem to carry any projectile weapons of their own, but she saw one of them catch a Footsoldier in his suit and start tearing the suit apart as if it were made of paper. A suit that would allow its wearer to survive a near-miss from an atomic weapon or a hour’s bombardment with a laser cannon was just torn apart.

She felt her heart racing frantically as the suit kept moving, following orders from its own AI or from the Captain. Chris Kelsey hadn’t been happy to see her at all and had loudly protested her inclusion on the mission, but Paula hadn’t understood, not until she’d realised how far removed an Armoured Combat Suit was from a General Protection Suit. She’d used the latter constantly at Intelligence and had been used to using it, but the former was something entirely different. She was hardly qualified to take part in the mission and, as shots ricocheted over her head, wished that she was back on Intelligence, watching through the MassMind. Her students and fellow researchers would be watching her cowering from the fighting.

“We’re going to have to head onwards,” Chris said, through the suit’s communications system. “Get over to the far exit and prepare to run when I give the command.”

Paula allowed the suit to take control, concentrating instead on pulling up what the intruding teams had discovered about the Killer starship and studying it, trying to see the pattern she knew had to be there. The Killers could do a lot of things that humanity couldn’t do, but they weren’t gods, or super-beings. Their tech had to be based on the same laws as humanity’s tech, which meant that if she could unlock the puzzle, she might figure out how the starship actually worked. She studied — again — the way the power relays seemed to work. If she was reading it correctly, there was a major source of transmissions coming from an area just short of the power core — a bridge? A command nexus of some kind?

Three Footsoldiers ran past her, their weapons raised, ready to take on anything they encountered, and then her suit came to life and hurled her after them. She felt the suit cushioning her as she ran onwards, down corridors she could barely make out after the bright light of the previous room. The other teams breaking into the ship had found similar rooms in similar locations, suggesting that the Killers were surprisingly regular in their thinking. If the pattern held true, it suggested that the columns they’d found were more important than they seemed, perhaps part of the starship’s command network.

But we can’t break into them, she thought, as they ran into another brightly lit room. This one held nothing, but a single blocky piece of equipment that seemed to have no discernable function. She scanned it anyway, using the neutrino scanning function in her suit, and wasn’t too surprised when the scan revealed that the device was almost impenetrable. It would take years of study before they broke through and worked out what the device actually was, years that she didn’t have, unless they succeeded in capturing the starship. At the moment, it seemed like an elusive goal.

“Keep down,” Chris warned, as the rearguard entered the compartment and reloaded their weapons. “They’re right behind us.”

Paula couldn’t help, but admire their professionalism. The arrow guns weren’t explosive — plasma cannons would have made short work of the Killer machines, at the risk of blowing up the entire team — and they would run out of projectile weapons. The suits could normally use nanotechnology to scavenge raw materials and create new ammunition, but that might not be possible on the Killer starship. Could their nanotech dismantle the machine in the room and what would happen if they did? Would it provoke another reaction…?

Provoke a reaction, she thought, slowly. Something was dancing right at the corner of her mind, refusing to come out into the light. Something important, something she was missing; the Killers hadn’t responded until… when? They hadn’t responded to the starships until they had been attacked; they’d even let the starships zoom close and unleash enough firepower to vaporise any other kind of starship, or devastate a whole planet. They’d been secure in their invulnerability… and they had ignored two hundred armoured Footsoldiers breaking into their starship, until they had found the column. There was something important about that column then, something so important that it had provoked a reaction…

She pulled up the results from the scans and examined them as the firing started again. The scans hadn’t been that deep — whatever the column was made of was good at blocking basic scans and there hadn’t been time to use nanotech probes to break through the metal — but they had definitely picked up traces of organic components and unidentified liquids. The column might have been just a bioelectric system, but that made no sense… unless it was part of the starship’s control system. No, she realised suddenly; it was more than that. The column had held a Killer! They had been looking at one of humanity’s greatest enemies and they hadn’t even known it.

The shooting was getting closer, but she ignored it, concentrating on studying the craft. If the Killer was actually meshed into the starship, like an oversized Spacer, it explained a lot. It probably hadn’t cared about the intruders until they’d actually stumbled upon the column and — perhaps — recognised it for what it was. It had sent its mechanical minions to terminate their curiosity; hell, perhaps it had decided to open a wormhole, travel somewhere else and exterminate the intruders away from their gnat-like starships. She couldn’t quite understand it. Where would such a creature even evolve?

She looked down towards the billowing green mists and understood. The atmosphere matched that of a gas giant. The Killers might have evolved in such an atmosphere themselves and had created their starships, like humanity had created its starships, to make them feel comfortable. That explained the poisonous atmosphere — an effective defence against an unprepared enemy — and maybe even the gravity. It made a depressing kind of sense. Humanity had searched endlessly for the Killers and their homeworld, but no one had taken a serious look at the thousands of gas giants. They could have millions of inhabited worlds right under the noses of everyone who searched for them.

“Suit, open a link to Captain Kelsey,” she ordered, grimly. Her conclusions would already have been sent out to the MassMind and the Community — the MassMind would study her theory and model out the possible dimensions of the Killers, now they knew more about them — but that wouldn’t help the team. “I need to talk to him.”

* * *

Chris was feeling pushed back as he unleashed another burst of arrows into the heart of a Killer machine. Several mechanical arms and legs disintegrated under his fire, but the remainder of the machine kept coming. The suit sensors warned that some of the cutting tools the machines carried had monofilament blades and even clouds of remote nanotech, explaining how four of his men had been killed so effortlessly, despite their suits. It was oddly reassuring, in a way; the Killers evidently hadn’t been able to solve the problem of controlling vast clouds of nanotech either. If they had the entire team would have been wiped out within seconds.

“I see,” he said finally, as Paula finished outlining her theory. “Are you sure about this?”

“I think so,” Paula said. “I’ve been looking at everything we know about the Killers — and everything we’ve found out on this mission — and it all fits together.”

“And we don’t have a way to get out of here now,” Chris confirmed, dryly. The Killer machines ignored the remote drones, which were still watching the enemy advance, and they were confirming that the way out to the hull and escape was firmly blocked. If they could use their plasma cannons, it would be a different story, but that would just have killed them all. It might be worth the risk as a final resort, but nothing else. “All right; send the additional drones forward and then prepare to follow them.”

He selected an EMP grenade from the list of possible weapons, locked it on one of the Killer machines, and fired it towards them, before turning and running for the far exit. The other Footsoldiers were already ahead of him as the EMP grenade detonated, sending an electromagnetic pulse against the Killer systems, but not entirely to his surprise they showed no signs of being affected. It wouldn’t have bothered the armoured combat suits either.

“Here,” Tom Pearson said. He picked up the strange Killer machine and pulled it after him, dumping it in a position to slow down pursuit. Chris smiled and nodded before pointing him down the corridor and running after him, avoiding a flashing blade by a millimetre. The starship seemed to be shuddering now, as if it were channelling power to something else, or perhaps fluctuating the gravity field to confuse them. “Sir, it…”

He stumbled against a silver wall and fell right into it. Chris stopped and stared in horror as the wall literally swallowed Tom up, despite his struggles. He reached out and caught his comrade’s hand, pulling him with all the strength of the suit’s mechanical muscles, but he couldn’t budge him from the wall. A moment later, Tom shoved him back, just before he fell into the wall and vanished. His icon vanished from the display.

“Don’t touch the walls,” Chris shouted, as they kept running towards the heart of the Killer ship, the bridge Paula had identified. Other traps kept appearing and grabbing for them as they moved, from a pair of tiny mechanical crab-like creatures to a sudden crippling change in the gravity field. Without the armour, they would have been helplessly trapped against the deck until their pursuers caught up with them. Even with the armour, crawling until they reached the edge of the gravity field was a near-impossible struggle.

“I don’t understand how they can muster an independent gravity field inside the ship,” Paula gasped as she struggled forward. She sounded on the edge of breaking, despite the suit taking care of her, and Chris couldn’t blame her. “Having two different gravity fields in a starship risks destabilising the starship’s structural integrity, unless the starship is large enough to absorb the effects without harm…”

Chris tuned her out as the gravity field suddenly reversed itself and left them floating in zero-gee. The suits countered the effect with their own motive power, pushing them onwards towards their destination, flying much faster through the air. The Killer evidently realised that that trick had backfired, because a moment later they crashed back down to the deck. Chris heard a scream and saw Thomas Ellisevans, one of the newer Footsoldiers, bleeding on the deck. A moment later, his suit sealed itself up to preserve what remained of its integrity.

“What happened?” He snapped. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas sent back. He sounded as if he were going into shock. “My suit’s arm just cracked!”

“Keep moving,” Chris said, grimly. They were almost at their target. There was another vast room, large enough to house an entire Defence Force destroyer, and then finally they broke into the command nexus. “Paula…”

She was staring at the massive room, barely hearing him. It looked more like a rocky asteroid cave than a bridge, dominated by the presence of a dozen columns like the one they’d seen in the previous room. The columns all seemed to blur together in the base of the room; Paula examined it and proclaimed that there was a massive tank underneath, set into the rock. She waved a disintegrator over it and the rock collapsed into dust, leaving the tank revealed… and the monstrous mass inside it.

Chris was reminded, irresistibly, of a brain, except it looked to be nothing more than a mass of chemicals. His suit was charting out the power links leading from the mass to the remainder of the ship and, finally, identified the mass before him as the source of the RF transmissions they’d picked up earlier. The Killer was sending signals out to the remainder of the ship and, a moment later, they were being repeated back to it, like a rote lesson. No, he realised, not quite a rote lesson. It was something much more complex.

“That’s a Killer?” Someone asked. “It doesn’t look very dangerous. Why rock?”

“It might be traditional,” Paula said, absently. “They might have decreed that its part of their culture, or it might be just like a hermit crab, inhabiting a shell created by another creature.”

“So,” Andrew Summerlin said, looking back towards the advancing machines. “How do you intend to slap the cuffs on it and take it prisoner?”

Chris had a more practical question. “How do you intend to kill it?”

* * *

Paula stared down at the Killer, her suit’s sensors tracking the power fluctuations surrounding the alien creature, wondering if it were aware of her presence. She couldn’t see anything reassembling eyes, but that meant nothing; the Killer might be present within the column, but it might also be present within the mists, or even the remainder of the ship. The Spacers were a merger of human flesh with mechanical technology and artificial intelligences. There was no reason why the Killer couldn’t be the same, or perhaps even something more advanced; if she understood what she was looking at, it might even exist as a distributed intelligence, rather than the fleshy mass in front of her.

She would have loved to spend years studying it, but there was no time. The advancing machines would cut them apart and lose them their one chance to take a Killer starship intact. After their successful boarding of the Killer ship, the other Killer ships would probably improve their own internal defences, or maybe stop ignoring the pickets that were shadowing them at a distance and destroy them. There was no more time…

“I’m going to cut into it with my nanotech probes,” she said, quickly. The very thought made her queasy — she had never killed before — but it was the Killer or them. “If I can break through, we can use the nanotech to kill it…”

She watched grimly as the first probes started to make their way through the Killer’s tank, dismantling the strange metal as they progressed. It should have collapsed at once — nothing could resist a nanotech assault, as far as humanity knew — but it was somehow holding out, forcing her to concentrate on digging into the tank while the Footsoldiers covered her. The advancing machines became frantic, desperately trying to reach her to rend and tear her apart, but she ignored them, concentrating on her grisly task. She pushed harder, controlling the nanomachines directly, and broke through, sending the machines to dig into the Killer. There was no time to be subtle. She had to kill the creature — and fast. There was a moment’s chaos…

And then the craft seemed to shudder violently, as if it was a living thing struggling to survive, and then it went dark. Paula felt a moment of panic as the darkness surrounded her like a living thing, before she realised what it had to mean. Somehow, without quite knowing what she was doing, she had killed the Killer.

“I think you got it,” Chris said, finally. The utter darkness surrounding them was suddenly broken by the lights on the suits, illuminating frozen machines and technology. The column seemed to have broken apart completely. The Killer was nothing more than a collapsing mass of dark material. “Well done.”

He turned back to his men as Paula started to retch. “Link to the starships and tell them to start taking this monster in tow,” he ordered. “The Killer’s friends will be coming to see what happened to it and we don’t want to be here when they arrive.”

Chapter Nine

“Sir, the Killer power curves are fading away,” Lieutenant Gary Young. “Sir, they’re gone!”

Andrew brought up the image of the Killer starship and stared at it. The Killers had been almost stationary in space, so there was no sense of drifting motion, but the starship had gone completely dark. The massive power curves that had propelled it through space had completely vanished, leaving only a single source of power on the starship, which seemed to be cooling down itself. The starship was no longer firing on the human ships; it was merely… dead.

“They succeeded,” he said, in surprise. He had never really believed that the plan would work and the early telemetry from the boarding parties hadn’t been encouraging. Two hundred Footsoldiers had boarded the Killer starship; seventeen had survived the experience. Several boarding parties had been completely wiped out, or had become lost within the vast bulk of the starship. “Are they sure that it’s dead?”

“They’re confirming now,” Gary said. “I think they knocked out the driving intelligence and the remains of the starship are now shutting down until it can be recovered.”

Andrew nodded. The Killers probably had their own instant FTL communications network. If the Killer starship triggered a distress beacon, as a human starship would do in a comparable situation, they could have another Killer starship arriving within minutes. The picket ships had reported that there were several within two hundred light years, but with the Anderson Drive or a wormhole, reinforcements could come from right across the galaxy. A fully-alert Killer starship might be breathing down their necks at any second, no longer inclined to ignore the gnats floating in space.

“Call the tugs,” he ordered, sharply. “Prepare to move the starship to Star’s End.”

The tugs flickered into existence a moment later. They were unarmed civilian ships and had been kept back from the fighting along with the Observer, which would have reported back if the entire attack wing had been wiped out. At Andrew’s command, the tugs moved to the Killer starship and took up position on the hull, despite their concerns. If the starship had powered up again, the tugs wouldn’t have been able to evade before the Killers blew them apart.

“They’re locked on,” Gary confirmed. “They’re ready to generate the tachyon field now.”

“Check with the Footsoldiers,” Andrew ordered. No one was quite sure how the Killers would respond to being transported across the galaxy. If the starship really was dead, it shouldn’t matter, but humanity used AIs to serve as emergency commanders and there was no reason why the Killers couldn’t do the same. It was a calculated risk. “Ask them if they want to be pulled out before we remove the ship.”

Gary worked his console. “They’re saying no,” he said, finally. “They want to continue exploring the dead ship while we transport it out of here.”

Andrew took one look back towards the Observer’s icon on the display, watching everything from a distance, and turned back to his console. The picket would remain in the same general location of space for a few weeks, just to see what — if anything — the Killers did in response. Andrew expected nothing less than a large fleet to kick ass and take names, but no one knew how long it would take the Killers to respond. If they figured out how to read the starship’s computer banks — if the Killers had computer banks — they might actually discover just how the Killers worked and the location of all of their bases. They might finally be able to take the offensive.

“Jump,” he ordered.

Space twisted around the remains of the attack wing as the fleet jumped out towards Star’s End. He found himself tensing again as the Killer starship and its tugs followed, knowing that the tachyon field might refuse to form. The Battle of High Singapore had included a desperate attempt by a human destroyer — identical to the Lightning — to destroy the Killer starship by using a tachyon field to tear the Killer ship apart, but the field had simply refused to form. No one knew if it had failed because the field hadn’t been able to encompass the whole hull — although theory had suggested that part of the ship should have been cut away from the hull — or if the Killers had countered the field somehow, but there was no other way to move the Killer ship. A warp bubble might have worked, but the Killers would easily have been able to detect it and give chase, when their response force finally arrived.

The icon of the captured Killer starship flickered into existence on the display and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. Any starship using a tachyon field travelled at inconceivable speeds, but larger starships seemed to move slower, although no one was quite sure why. Even Thande, the composite of Professor Anderson and some of his brightest students in the MassMind, didn’t fully understand what they had created. The Anderson Drive had limits no one fully understood.

Andrew had read a speculative paper that suggested that it was really a function of the amount of mass being taken through the jump — which had struck him, at the time, as stating the obvious and taking thousands of words to say it. The author had gone on to speculate that tachyons, being particles without mass, could attain infinitive speeds, while anything with mass could only come close to infinitive speed. There might even be only one tachyon in existence, occupying all possible locations simultaneously, and what the Anderson Drive really did was nothing more than re-determining where the starship actually was. At that point, he had given up with a headache.

“Transit confirmed,” Gary said, softly. Andrew heard the awe in his voice and shared it. No one had believed that they would actually get away with it, but now… now, the entire human race would get a massive boost in morale. The men and women who were born and spent the majority of their lives in simulated environments, generated by the MassMind, would get something else to live for. They might even join the Defence Force in greater numbers. There were trillions of humans in space, occupying millions of asteroid colonies, and yet the Defence Force was always short of manpower. “We have arrived at Star’s End.”

Andrew looked down at the single star glowing on the display. Star’s End was a star right at the edge of the galaxy; indeed, it was practically a separate object, only kept in position by the galaxy’s vast gravitational pull. The Killers had never shown any interest in it and, more importantly, it was thousands of light years from any human colony. The Technical Faction had used it as a research base for hundreds of years, building their experimental weapons and researching objects recovered from dead alien worlds, but now… now it would be playing host to the first captured Killer starship.

“Contact System Command,” he ordered, formally, and then grinned. “Tell them we’ve brought home the bacon.”

“System Command confirms,” Gary said. They shared a look. The mere sight of the Killer starship would probably have triggered a panic as the defenders braced themselves to fight a delaying action while the scientists evacuated the base. “They’re welcoming us to the base and offering our people leave.”

“Not now,” Andrew said. The recreational facilities onboard the starships would be sufficient, while keeping the crews ready to fight if outraged Killer fleets arrived to recover their lost starship. There was no sign of any emergency signal emitting from the Killer starship, but that proved nothing. There were any number of ways to transmit an FTL signal without being detected. The researchers would have to make shutting any such system down their first priority. “We’ve done our part, so… tell them good luck.”

He stood up. “Stand down from red alert,” he added. “And general signal to all ships; well done.”

“Yes, sir,” Gary said.

Andrew nodded. He’d have to make a full report to the Admiral, of course, and then he would have to arrange for a ceremony for those who had died in the battle, but for the moment, he could afford to relax. It wouldn’t last.

“Move us into observation position,” he ordered. “I’ll be in my cabin. Inform me at once if anything changes.”

* * *

The interior of the Killer starship was, if anything, far more daunting now that the lights were out. The starship’s gravity field had failed along with the power, leaving the Footsoldiers and Paula floating in the middle of the chamber. Paula wasn’t sure that that was such a bad thing. She had the uneasy feeling that the starship wasn’t dead, just resting. The absolute darkness was worse than the mists. She kept thinking that she saw something out of the corner of her eye and, when she turned to illuminate it with her suit’s lights, saw nothing. The darkness was getting to her, no matter what the suit did to keep her stable, and she was seriously considering having it sedate herself before she collapsed completely.

“We have arrived at Star’s End,” Chris confirmed. Paula nodded. She’d felt the wrench that marked the use of an Anderson Drive, but she’d been more aware than the Footsoldiers of every little thing that could go wrong. If the tugs had messed up their calculations, they might just arrive in the heart of a sun instead, or on the other side of the universe. There were just too many unknowns surrounding the Killer starship and its capabilities. “Has there been any sign of activity?”

It took Paula a moment to realise that the question was addressed to her. “Negative,” she said, as crisply as she could. She would never match the Footsoldiers for professionalism, but she could try. “The only power source in the ship is the power core and it appears to have gone into a form of stasis.”

She heard Chris’s snort though the communications link. “Are you sure?”

“No,” she replied, dryly. Whatever the Killers used — and she was starting to suspect that it was either a singularity or a micro black hole — was a complexly unknown technology. “All I can tell you is that it is no longer emitting the high levels of radiation it was emitting before we — I — killed the Killer. It may actually be fading away completely.”

“And that’s a bad thing, right?” One of the other Footsoldiers asked. “What would happen if we lost it completely?”

“We might lose the ability to power up the starship again,” Paula said. “I don’t think that we could actually manipulate the systems ourselves…”

“He means; will the starship blow up on us?” Chris injected, sardonically. “Are you sure that we’re safe here?”

“No,” Paula said. She took a measure of revenge by giving them a detailed answer. “It is possible that the power core will destabilise and explode, killing us all. It is equally possible that it will just fade away, leaving the starship completely powerless. It is — even — possible that the power core will just stabilise at a low level and remain that way until the Killers recover this ship, if they ever do. It’s a completely unknown technology.”

She looked back down towards the column and tanks that had once held the Killer. Her mind kept returning to a single point; it had been an alien being, an intelligent alien being, and she had killed it. Its race had slaughtered humanity — and countless other alien races — but she had never killed anyone in her life. She felt sick, despite the constant massaging of the suit, and had to swallow bile. She had killed a unique creature… and she wasn’t even sure how! Her nanotech had killed it — why? What had she actually done to it?

The lights played around the massive chamber, but it took her a moment to realise what was missing. The mists no longer hung in the air. The temperature was dropping rapidly — that wasn’t a problem as long as they remained in their suits — and it was possible that it had merely condensed on the walls, but perhaps it had some other explanation. It might have been part of their native atmosphere — although if she were right about them being native to gas giants, the pressure should have been much greater — but she had the odd feeling that the mists were actually much more important than they had realised. They had no time to study now, but she was already compiling a list of priority areas to research — and the mists were on the list.

“We’re moving out,” Chris decided, finally. “Paula, follow me; in fact, set your suit to automatically shadow me until I tell you differently.”

The lead Footsoldier’s lights seemed to fade away into the darkness as he took point, drifting ahead of them, back towards where a wall had swallowed up one of their teammates. It dawned on Paula, suddenly, why they’d gone back the same way; the Footsoldiers wanted to see if they could rescue their comrade. Flying through the air, using radar pulses and sonic signals to fill out their knowledge of the alien starship, they made much better time, but when they reached the man-eating wall, it was cold and silent.

“Material unknown,” her suit’s sensors said, when she examined it. Something completely unknown to human science was odd, but looking at it, she wondered if she was merely managing to misinterpret what she was seeing. It should have been impossible to produce a material that nanites couldn’t crawl through, unless perhaps they had used nanites to produce the material and then maintain it. Human starships did have some self-repair functions and there was no reason why the Killers couldn’t have something comparable, but she’d never seen anything on this scale. The thought was oddly terrifying; despite the power failure, could the starship still be maintaining or even repairing itself?

“Nothing,” Chris said, bitterly. “Can we dig into the metal?”

“I would advise against it,” Paula said, sharing his feelings. The lost Footsoldier was almost certainly dead, but they’d want to take his body for a solar burial. There seemed to be no way to recover him. “We can get some specialist tools up here and dig into the material once the starship is secured.”

She turned and froze, feeling a hot liquid trickling down her legs. She was staring right at one of the machines that had chased them down into the heart of the starship. It took her a moment to realise that it was as dead as the remainder of the ship and the position it had been caught in was just a coincidence, but she’d been certain that it was about to tear her apart. The darkness had kept it well-hidden. She hadn’t even noticed it until it was too late.

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, softly. “It’s dead.”

Paula flushed, remembering that Chris could see all of her vital signs through his suit. “I didn’t mean to panic,” she said, crossly. “I just saw it and…”

“It happens to us all,” Chris said. “Just follow us up towards the surface and you’ll be fine.”

The flight out of the starship was more leisurely than the raid into the starship, but Paula was still sweating like she’d never sweated before when she was finally helped out of the hole they’d produced in the maintenance hatch — or whatever the Killers had used it for. She felt as if she were right at the end of her tether, but she still had enough energy to look up towards the Milky Way and feel awe as she took in the galaxy from such a distance. It was impossible to make it out as anything, but a great band of light in the distance, yet it was an astonishing sight. There were no traces of the Killers — even their vast construction projects had made no mark on the galaxy that she could see — and nothing to suggest that it was anything, but safe. It was a humbling sight. On such a scale, even the massive Killer starship was less than a speck of dust.

“The starships are coming in now to pick us up and deliver the first load of researchers,” Chris said, prodding her gently. “I suggest that you get a good eight hours sleep, at least, before you think about going back into the ship, or anything else.”

“Yes, sir,” Paula said, unable to disagree. The Milky Way still captivated her. “Are you going to be sleeping as well?”

“We have to purge our systems of all of the stimulants,” Chris confirmed. “After that, we’ll have to write reports for our superiors and brief other Footsoldier combat teams on what we encountered inside the Killer ship. They’ll have to know what we found if they get sent inside other ships.”

She heard him chuckle. “At this rate, we should have all their ships captured within a few hundred years,” he added. She got the impression that he was trying to reassure her, somehow. “The war is as good as won.”

Somehow, Paula couldn’t smile. A dark shape appeared from space, rapidly turning into a landing craft settling down on the hull, unloading the first researchers who would be digging into the mysteries of the Killer starship. A day ago, Paula would have loved to be one of them, but now she had the urge to just go home and lose herself inside a MassMind fantasy program, one where the Killers didn’t exist. It would have meant abandoning the rest of the human race, but at least she wouldn’t have to worry about the Killers — until they destroyed the asteroid settlement she used as a hiding place.

“I doubt it,” she said, shaking her head. If she worked with the other scientists, she might have a chance to influence the outcome of the war. “They’re not going to let this pass without a response.”

Chapter Ten

“My God,” Matriarch Jayne breathed, as the final sections of the report faded away. “They actually did it!”

“Apparently,” President Patti Lydon agreed, sourly. “They captured a Killer starship and took it to Star’s End.”

“They did more than just that,” Administrator Arun Prabhu said. “They killed a Killer.”

Tabitha Cunningham smiled inwardly. One Killer was small compensation for the billions of humans and countless other races who had been killed by the Killers, but it was a start. It was more interesting to know that there only appeared to be one Killer on each of their starships, which suggested that their total numbers might be much lower than anyone had thought. If they could take out a few more starships, they might actually get the Killers to take notice of them. Of course, not all of the War Council thought that that was a good idea.

“And now they will feel inclined to retaliate against us,” Patti said, grimly. “Has there been any sign of a response from them?”

“The Observer is still on station at the scene of the battle,” Admiral Brent Roeder said. “So far, there has been no sign of another Killer starship coming to investigate the loss of one of their ships, or anything else. It has only been a day, however, and we have no idea how quickly they can react to anything so unexpected.”

“We don’t know that it was unexpected,” Patti pointed out. “For all we know, they lose a dozen ships a year.”

“We know that they don’t,” Tabitha corrected, softly. “If they lost starships so frequently, they would be a great deal more careful about what they allowed so close to their ships. They ignored our attack wing until they opened fire and didn’t bother attempting to do more than drive them away. They completely missed the boarding parties until it was far too late. No, I think that we have good cause to believe that no one has ever hurt them like this before.”

“Except for the minor detail that it’s petty,” Jayne pointed out, sharply. “We take out an entire starship; they dismantle entire solar systems. We work on unlocking their science; they react and come after our remaining settlements and worlds. It’s not as if we’ve suddenly developed a new weapon that completely changes the balance of power. How long will it be before we actually manage to incorporate their technology in our ships?”

Arun frowned. “We have several thousand scientists and researchers crawling over the starship at the moment,” he said. “It has, however, only been a day since we brought the ship into Star’s End. We have made some interesting discoveries already, but there’s no way that I can give you a timetable for when we’ll know everything about their ships, or what makes them tick. Don’t mistake me; we are in a better position than we were in last week, but we still have a long way to go before we start looking at technological parity.”

“And they seem to have ignored us, again,” Patti said. “How long will that last?”

“Unknown,” Brent said. “Overall, however, their normal means of operation was to launch an attack on any of our colonies that they encountered. We had no guarantee that they would leave us alone even if we left them alone. Our only other choice was to admit defeat and sail off to some other galaxy, where we might have been discovered again by them, one day.”

“There is no evidence that they possess any holdings outside the galaxy,” Farther Sigmund pointed out. “The survey teams that went through the Clouds found no trace of their presence, or any other form of life.”

“Which does suggest that something scorched those worlds free of life,” Brent pointed out, angrily. “There were hundreds of worlds in the Clouds like Earth, worlds that should have developed their own form of intelligent life. They never did — why? I think the Killers went through the Clouds centuries ago and wiped out any possible source of intelligent life.”

“We never even found ruins,” Farther Sigmund said.

“We can barely operate on Earth now, a thousand years after they blasted the planet into a dead husk,” Brent countered. “The bottom line is that if there is any life in the Clouds, or anywhere else apart from the Killers and us, it’s very good at hiding. There might be entire alien civilisations hidden somewhere in the Milky Way, but as far as we know, it’s just us and the Killers. And, one day, only one of us will survive.”

“And they seem to have the advantage,” Patti pointed out, coldly. “We lost fifty starships on the capture mission; they lost one, which they might be able to recover if they track it down. Hell, is it emitting any kind of signal?”

“Not as far as we can tell,” Arun said. “It appears to be a low-level RF broadcaster, but none of those signals will reach any known Killer outpost for thousands of years; they’re not FTL signals. They may have something not unlike the MassMind, or relay posts held together by quantum entanglement communications links, but we have no way to detect them, any more than they can detect ours.”

Tabitha nodded. Quantum entanglement communications links made use of the principle of quantum uncertainty to link two very distant relay nodes together; by constantly shifting their quantum state, they bound the MassMind together into a galaxy-spanning mind. They couldn’t be linked into without knowing the precise quantum fluctuation pattern and it was impossible, even, to tell if one was being used without inside knowledge. The Killers might be advanced, but even they couldn’t detect one — she hoped. It should have been impossible, but if they could… the entire MassMind would be open to their gaze.

Patti was clearly thinking along the same lines. “And if you’re wrong?”

“If we’re wrong,” Arun said patiently, “the Killers will attack Star’s End and recover their ship. We will have everything we learned in the time between its capture and its recovery — far more than we knew before we launched the raid on their ship — and enough insight to fuel genuinely original science. We may already have enough new insights to develop our own versions of their systems.”

“You don’t know that,” Jayne pointed out. “You just finished warning us that there was no hope of a time table, just… we’d have our discoveries when we had them.”

“And in the meantime, we have reminded them that we exist,” Patti added. “You might have exposed the Community to their notice…”

Tabitha tapped the simulated table angrily. “Enough,” she said, coldly. Her age and general renown kept everyone quiet. If she wasn’t the oldest personality still active, she was definitely the person with the longest history. She was history — and she wasn’t above using it for attention if necessary. “We knew that we had no choice, but to accept the risks and launch the raid. We are no more exposed to them than we were two days ago. We lost High Singapore because we believed that they didn’t care about its existence. We had no choice.”

She looked from face to face, wondering what they were thinking. They could project whatever images they liked in the MassMind; they could certainly use filters to keep their faces under firm control, even catching anything that accidentally slipped out of their mouths. She couldn’t blame Patti and Jayne for being worried about what the Killers might do in retaliation, but the destruction of Earth had convinced her that there was no room for doubt — it was humanity, or the Killers. There was no room for coexistence.

“And there is nothing to be gained from constantly rehashing the decision and bemoaning the risks,” she continued. The Community’s politics were considerably less poisonous than the ones she remembered from Old Earth, but at the same time, it’s very decentralisation made it harder to agree on a coherent policy. “We knew what we were doing when we launched the mission and now we succeeded… we can reap the fruits of success.”

Unbidden, the term catastrophic success rose to the top of her mind. Back on Earth, with an endless war against all kinds of wreckers and terrorists, the term had referred to defeating an enemy force without having the manpower to hold the ground afterwards, allowing the enemy to come back and rebuild their influence without a serious fight. The Killers had been poked hard. They’d definitely respond in some way, but how? How much of the Community was exposed to their sensors? No one knew.

“Now,” she said, when silence fell. “Arun, what can you tell us so far about the Killers?”

“Very little for definite,” Arun said. “There is no reason to argue about Researcher Handley’s contention that the Killers actually originated in a gas giant, rather than an Earth-like world. It seems absurd and we have the MassMind running possible evolutionary simulations, but there has to be something very weird about their homeworld. The atmosphere they chose for the starship is nothing like anything we or the Ghosts used.”

Tabitha shivered, despite herself. The Ghosts, like humanity, had been a spacefaring race before the Killers arrived. Unlike humanity, they hadn’t been able to establish a working civilisation in space after their homeworld had been bombarded to rubble and had died out among their asteroid belt. The haunting images of dead spacecraft and ruined asteroid habitations had provided a sobering look at how humanity’s story could have ended. Tabitha and her fellows from that era had saved the human race.

There were MassMind produced entertainments that had human explorers stumbling across the remains of the Ghosts — hidden colonies that had somehow survived — but as far as the researchers had been able to determine, the Killers had got them all, directly or indirectly. It was just another wonder of the universe that had been crushed under the heel of the Killers.

“Overall, however, they appear to have operated on the same basis as the Spacers,” Arun continued. “There was one Killer that was blended into the starship’s computer network, rather than a live crew and AIs.”

All eyes turned to Rupert, the Spacer. “We have attempted for quite some time to develop a starship… body for a human being,” he said, blandly. “The experiments tended to fail rapidly, leading either to complete mental collapse or insanity. One starship went completely insane and attacked a colony, before heading out to fight a Killer ship and being destroyed. We believe that the task of operating a starship was beyond the capability of a human mind, although we achieved limited success by pairing the human mind with several AIs intended to cushion the shock.”

He paused. “That did not, however, develop any greater efficiency than standard neural links like the Defence Force uses,” he added. “While some Spacers are, in effect, small spacecraft themselves, the task of operating a full-sized starship was something beyond any of the experimental subjects.”

Tabitha felt deeply shocked, even though she understood that every one of the experimental subjects had been a volunteer. Back on Earth, experiments like that would have been banned — along with a vast number of far less harmful experiments — leading to the Technical Faction’s decision to set up a massive base on Titan, away from the interference of people who knew nothing about science, but considered themselves capable of controlling it. After Earth had been destroyed, all moral and ethical limits had rapidly vanished, pushed aside by the desperate demands of survival. The Spacers had come out of research programs launched after Earth became a blackened cinder.

“Spacer-crewed starships are generally operated in a vacuum,” Arun commented, into the silence. “The Killers could have operated their own ship in a vacuum, but they decided that maintaining their atmosphere was important to them — and we don’t know why, yet. Our researchers believe that they had some motive that overrode more logical concerns — such as damage to exposed components caused by moisture in the air — but…”

He shrugged. “Research programs are ongoing,” he concluded. “I propose that we meet to review progress in a fortnight, or earlier if we make any surprising discoveries. Until then…?”

“One point,” Rupert commented. “The Spacers are all very happy about the successful mission and many have volunteered to assist with the research programs…”

“And we’re very happy to have them,” Arun injected. “They are actually more suited to an alien craft than most of our researchers.”

“…But we would like to know how the remainder of the Community is taking it,” Rupert continued, ignoring the interruption. “Admiral, how are your own people coping with developments?”

“Morale has never been higher,” Brent said, blandly. “The successful mission has been a big shot in the arm for the Defence Force and it has even had an effect — already — on recruitment. Even if we are attacked now and lose hundreds of starships, we would still have that success to encourage us. I have teams working on ways to duplicate that success, perhaps hitting other starships before they can put in new security measures…”

“Out of the question,” Patti snapped. “We don’t want to alert them even more to our activities.”

“I am inclined to agree,” Tabitha said, leaving the ‘for once’ unspoken. “Once we have completed the research programs on the captured ship we can consider our next step.”

“Understood,” Brent said. “Regardless, we still have to look at possible options.”

“The Rockrats are more cautious,” Jayne said. “There is some jubilation over the successful capture, in the belief that it will convince the Killers to start taking us more seriously, but at the same time there is a genuine level of concern that — this time — we might have overstepped ourselves. The Killers might come after the remaining settlements and that… would be the end.”

“There are the ships heading out to other galaxies,” Tabitha pointed out. The MassMind was generally in favour of the entire mission, but there were personalities that had their own concerns. The MassMind wasn’t a collective intelligence; the personalities could and did disagree with one another, something ferociously. It added a whole new meaning to the term ‘flame war.’ “There are also thousands of hidden settlements they shouldn’t be able to detect. The human race has an assured future ahead of it…”

“Skulking and hiding in the shadows,” Patti countered. “The Community… those who haven’t lost themselves in virtual worlds are worried about the impact if the Killers come after us. Others want to spit in their eyes, even if it means the deaths of thousands — millions — of humans. There are so many people lost in revenge fantasies that they probably can’t tell the difference between reality and their personal worlds.”

Tabitha nodded. It was something that had surprised her when she’d arrived in her new star system to be met by the first warp-capable starship. Many humans had continued to develop themselves and expand the human race, but many others had slid into fantasy worlds that didn’t include the Killers, or any danger at all. It struck her as nothing more than drug abuse, but her attempts to have it banned had failed. There were just too many people who preferred to withdraw into their own skulls rather than face reality.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, firmly. “We captured the Killer ship. What’s done is done. All we have to do now is unlock its secrets and then perhaps we can storm heaven itself.”

* * *

“And thank goodness that that’s over,” she said, afterwards. “Did you ever hear so much carping in your life?”

“You can’t blame them,” Arun pointed out, as he poured himself a simulated drink. Tabitha sometimes thought about downloading herself into an android body, just so she could walk and taste and touch again, but nothing had come out of it. She envied him his body, even though a MassMind personality had many more options for private enjoyment. “They’ve lived with the fear of the Killers for far too long.”

Tabitha felt her eyes flash. In the MassMind, that was more than a figure of speech. “No one is more aware of the danger of the Killers than I am,” she said, firmly. “I watched helplessly as they destroyed Earth. I also believe that we have to defeat them, or accept that our ultimate destiny as a race is to be destroyed by the Killers, or doomed to die out in an orgy of hedonistic pleasures on the edge of the galaxy. The first step towards defeating them or… hell, getting them to realise that we’re intelligent beings who have a right to exist requires taking one of their starships intact and studying it!”

“You’re preaching to the temple singers,” Arun said, sipping his drink. The advantage of simulated alcohol was that its effects would vanish when Arun exited the MassMind, or earlier, if he so chose. “I am perfectly aware of the requirements.”

“Sorry,” Tabitha said, finally. She felt oddly ashamed of herself, as if she was revealing her origins. It was a MassMind conceit she rarely allowed herself. “I just…”

“No worries,” Arun said, firmly. He summoned an image of the Killer starship and studied it thoughtfully. It was a real-time link from Star’s End, showing the alien starship illuminated by lights mounted on remote platforms and thousands of humans and Spacers crawling all over the hull. “Even if this fails, we do have the starbombs.”

“The Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator,” Tabitha corrected. The joke had once been funny. Now it was just sad. “If we have to dismantle half the galaxy to get at them…”

“We may have no choice,” Arun said. His voice was terrifyingly dispassionate, contemplating destruction on an unimaginable scale. “Patti was right about one thing. If the Killers do come gunning for us, they could wipe out most of the Community within a few days. That would be the end of the MassMind… and any hope of striking back at the Killers.”

Chapter Eleven

Her body lay suspended in a shimmering column of blue light.

Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi looked down on it from high above, her mind dazed and unsure, even, of where she was. It was a good body — had been a good body, part of her mind whispered treacherously — and it had served her well. She had worn the oriental features of her ancestors, but she had never chosen to follow the dictates of fashion, from an extra eyeball to immense breasts and thighs. The body she’d been born with had suited her well enough — and there was little room for such distractions in the Defence Force. Watching it being dismantled by a mad surgeon was almost more than she could bear.

Where am I? She asked herself, feeling her thoughts quickening as her body died. As she watched, long needles continued to plunge into her, exploring every curve and crevice of her body. Strange tubes probed between her legs. Beams of focused gravity made her body twitch and jump at will. Powerful blades, glittering silver despite the eerie alien light, grew out of the walls and reached towards her skull. She cringed mentally as the blades cut into her head, sending blood and bone spurting everywhere, but there was no pain. It was almost as if it were happening to someone else.

Before her eyes, her body was systematically taken apart. No human, she liked to think, could have inflicted such injuries without some degree of feeling being involved, but there was no sense of malice, or even of curiosity, in the movements. The Killers didn’t seem to care; they were examining her body because they thought they should examine her body, not because they were interested in her. The entire process made little sense to her. They could have formed a cloud of nanites and explored her insides without needing to rip her body apart, yet they had chosen instead to do it the hard way. Why?

And where was she? If that was her body being dismantled, then where was her mind?

It hit her suddenly and she almost laughed, catching herself just in time. The MassMind recording implant, a record of all she had been, hadn’t failed after all. The Killers had reached into her head to scan her mind and accidentally dragged her out of her body! They couldn’t have done it on purpose… could they? The early years of the MassMind hadn’t been as easy as history suggested; not everyone wanted to have copies of themselves running in a giant computer, open to interference from anyone with malicious intentions. She felt creeping fear as she realised that the Killers could literally reprogram her at will — their computer network wouldn’t have any of the safeguards built into the MassMind — yet relaxed slightly as she realised that the Killers didn’t know she was within their system. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but it seemed logical. If they’d known she was there, they would have moved to erase her from her position.

She concentrated, trying to recall what she knew about entering the MassMind. She’d gone inside it as a visitor, but that had been a different experience altogether. The human mindset couldn’t really cope with the actual nature of the MassMind, so the governing minds and AIs created an entire string of advisors and averters to assist the newcomer in exploring the network. A new personality would be gently assisted to adapt to the MassMind — the MassMind could have absorbed the entire human race in an afternoon, but it could take years to get them all accustomed to their new status — but there was nothing to assist her inside the alien network. The Killers wouldn’t want to assist her in settling in, would they?

Her lips — imaginary now, although she found it comforting to still imagine that she had a body within the network — twitched in amusement. She’d been granted a priceless opportunity and she was complaining about it! She could learn more about the Killers than anyone else; given time, she might even manage to transmit information out of their domain and into the human MassMind. It should be possible, assuming that the systems weren’t too different, to transmit a signal out… or perhaps trying to interfere with the system would draw attention from local intelligences. The MassMind had police AIs that prevented personalities from abusing the network and there was no reason to assume that the Killers didn’t have their own security measures. They would view her as an intruder and seek to remove her from the network. Hell, she decided, they might even blame her on one of their rivals.

If they had rivals…

She took one last look down at her body — now little more than a gory mass — and started to look around. The MassMind was warm and welcoming, but the alien system was so vast as to be beyond her comprehension; she seemed to drift within waves of data and vast slow thoughts. She latched onto one of the thoughts with her mind and allowed it to speak to her, but it was impossible to make sense of it. It was alien as hell. In the distance, she could hear — her mind interpreted it as hearing — the sound of a massive heartbeat. Despite the danger, she wanted to go there…

And she was there. There was no sense of transition; there was just a jump from one place in the network to another. The heartbeats — and the vast network of strange thoughts — were much louder, yet she had no idea what was happening, or where she was. It dawned on her that she was looking at it from the wrong angle and allowed herself to slide into the thoughts… only to see, suddenly, a creature floating at the centre of a vast web. Her mind made it look like a giant spider — spiders had survived the destruction of Earth, along with many other lower forms of life — facing away from her. If it had seen her, she knew it would have leapt at her and swallowed her up into its multiplicity. It might not even have bothered to realise that she wasn’t a Killer.

She spread her mind as wide as she could, trying to listen to the thoughts, or build up a picture of just how the network worked. The MassMind was a vast decentralised network spanning the galaxy. The Killer network was focused on the spider — either a Killer linked into the network or a very strange AI, she decided — and yet there were echoes and pulses within the network that suggested that there were other nodes… no, she realised; they were echoes. The Killer was literally talking to itself.

Why? She thought, desperately. She had spread herself thin, rendering herself almost unnoticeable, but it wasn’t enough to allow her to grasp how the network worked. If she’d had the computing power of the MassMind behind her, she might have been able to unravel it, yet the MassMind was very different. There could not have been two gods competing for the same area of digital space. Why are you doing this to us? Why are you killing us all…?

The block of memory rose up in front of her and she plunged right into it before she realised what she was doing. It was like watching a history lesson unfolding in front of her eyes, or perhaps an implanted or downloaded memory, yet it was very alien. She found herself struggling to comprehend visions seen through alien eyes — but they weren’t eyes. It wasn’t an entertainment; it was more like an old-style movie. She was nothing, but a helpless observer.

She saw a massive world, at once both alien and surprisingly mundane. She saw giant balloons rising away from the strange world and up into space. She saw the flowering of an alien civilisation in space, a civilisation that exploded into development as they finally gained access to raw materials that allowed them to turn their dreams and theories into practice. She saw primitive spacecraft, similar to the ships humanity had deployed before the Killers arrived and smashed Earth, heading out further into space, expanding their reach and grasp. She saw…

Aliens; alien ships. The sense of overwhelming evil was so powerful that it almost threw her right out of the memory, back into the alien network. She saw the aliens opening fire and devastating entire colonies and settlements, a war over infinitive resources. Humanity had fought wars over limited resources on Earth; the aliens, it seemed, waged war over everything. The judgement was both dispassionate and shockingly passionate; the aliens had to be destroyed. The war scenes seemed to blur together until the alien race was finally exterminated, but at a cost. The race humanity had learned to call the Killers had been forever changed by the experience.

The memory faded away, to be replaced by another, and another, strange alien scenes that made no sense to her. She could hear words whispered on the wind, yet she couldn’t understand them, or their context. Some of them provoked anger, or fear, or rage, or arousal in her, but she couldn’t understand why. She saw massive jellyfish-like creatures floating in an endless sea one moment, scenes of space exploration or devastation the second. She saw humanoid races burning before her eyes, exterminated down to the last few members of their race, yet there was no hatred or rage. It was coldly precise and dispassionate.

It made her feel sick. Hitler had created great storms of anti-Jewish feeling to allow him to commit genocide and attempt to exterminate them. Every time the human race had committed genocide, there had been an attempt to justify it, no matter how thin. The enemy was subhuman, or useless, or permanently hateful; there was always a reason. The human race seemed to have unlimited capability for believing –and creating — such propaganda, but the Killers? They didn’t seem to have a reason, or any need to justify it to themselves. They just… were.

She pulled herself out of the memory storm with an effort, only to discover that the network had changed around her. There were two spiders now — three spiders, ten spiders, an infinity of spiders — and they were talking to each other. She tried to listen, but again, it was beyond her understanding… or perhaps not. She was no longer human, after all, and there were things she could do as a personality that she could never have done as a human. She concentrated, trying to work out how to reproduce asexually, and felt herself split into two people. It was weird, looking at her own twin; Chiyo2 was her. The MassMind rarely allowed such duplication — it raised all kinds of legal and ethical questions — but now there was no choice. She had to take the risk.

“Go,” she said. Chiyo2 understood as clearly as Chiyo1. They were the same person, after all, and if one died the other would survive. “Good luck.”

She felt herself stretched as Chiyo2 inched closer to the spiders, reaching out to experience their thoughts directly. Their words were deafeningly loud, yet if she ran them through her skull — her metaphorical skull — she could understand them, somehow. The spiders — she realised now that the spiders were the Killers, as they were represented in their own version of the MassMind — were discussing something that had happened. It took her a moment longer to realise what that had been.

Memory — a Killer memory — swept over Chiyo2. One of their mighty starships was under attack. The two human personalities watched in astonishment as an entire attack wing of human starships mounted a desperate and ultimately futile assault, barely damaging the Killer ship. It looked useless, resulting in nothing, but dead humans, until new problems appeared within the Killer starship. It took her a moment to grasp what was happening — had happened — but it seemed to take the Killers longer. They barely grasped the concept of a boarding party. The death of one of their kind took them by complete surprise. It hadn’t happened for thousands of years.

The sense of just how old the Killers were didn’t take Chiyo by surprise. The Defence Force had endlessly speculated on how long the Killers had been around, but human explorations had turned up worlds that had been destroyed well before Jesus Christ brought his message of peace, love and understanding to an unreceptive world. The Killers had to have existed for far longer, or else they would have been destroyed themselves by an elder race, if such races existed. There were odd reports of strange encounters with hyper-advanced aliens, but no one in the Defence Force believed them. The Killers had to be old indeed. It had been Great Cycles since one of them had been killed by alien attack.

“Push closer,” Chiyo1 urged Chiyo2. The sense that humanity had finally managed to strike back, to destroy a Killer starship, was matched by fear for the future. If the Killers decided to start taking the human race seriously, Chiyo might end up the last human in existence, trapped in the Killer network. “Find out what they’re going to do in response.”

Their thoughts seemed to grow louder as Chiyo2 pushed closer, unnoticed in the roar of the disagreement. The Killers seemed to be reinforcing their own thoughts, somehow, an attempt to form a consensus where no consensus could exist. Chiyo understood, suddenly, what a democracy must look like from the perspective of a higher being; hundreds of voices arguing over nothing. The largest Killer faction seemed to want to strike back — if she understood them correctly and there was no guarantee of that — but other factions were more interested in something they thought of as the Great Project, even though they conceded that there might be a problem. The strange combination of xenophobia, concern, and unconcern puzzled her; the Killers, it seemed, just didn’t regard other races as a serious threat. They just regarded them as targets.

It made a bitter kind of sense, she decided. Earth hadn’t been able to mount a defence when the Killer starship had arrived… and, without the MassMind, humanity would never have become a serious threat. If they smashed alien cultures while they were still primitive, they prevented them from becoming a threat in the future, even if they survived for years afterwards. The Ghosts had never managed to turn their handful of survivors into a permanent civilisation… unless, of course, some had managed to survive in hidden settlements. It was possible, but a hidden settlement would never become a threat in its own right. How could it?

The argument seemed to soften for a moment, and then resumed, with different simulations being created and used as talking points. It was so like a comparable human meeting that she almost laughed, yet there was a dangerous undertone to their voices and thoughts. They weren’t questioning the existence of the human threat, or dismissing it completely; they intended to apply corrective measures. The sheer dispassion continued to throw her, but as the Killers reached towards a consensus, she realised that they were casually talking about completing the extermination of the human race…

Or were they? They didn’t seem to have made any connection between her and the attack on their ship. Might they suspect, she wondered, that she was from a different race? It seemed unlikely, yet how would a Killer know, even if they cared, that the destroyers and her scout came from the same culture? A human would know — they’d be able to see clear links between the two starship classes — but would a Killer? That led neatly back to the first question and she looked up at her spider, her Killer. Why had he taken her onboard, dissected her, and accidentally added a hitchhiker to his local network? It didn’t seem to suit their normal mode of operation.

On impulse, she suggested to Chiyo2 that she try to hop into another Killer starship. It didn’t work. The MassMind drew no distinction between its different nodes, but the Killers seemed reluctant to allow the same degree of harmony between their separate networks. It made no sense to her — that harmony, which had created the MassMind, accounted for humanity’s survival — but the Killers were aliens. Maybe they liked their mental privacy. She looked down at her self-image and smiled wryly. Her image wore nothing, not even a traditional fig leaf. If they caught her, the Killers probably wouldn’t appreciate her naked body before they wiped her out of their network.

The Killer conference finished before she could quite pin down what they’d decided and the other spiders vanished from the network, leaving her spider alone. Chiyo and her twin moved further away from the central nexus to reintegrate and decide on a new course of action. Only one course of action seemed to make sense. She would have to create hundreds of copies of herself and start exploring the Killer network as thoroughly as possible. If she could figure out how to take control, or even to send a message…

She skimmed through the network until she found a vast tract of memory that served no purpose and slipped into it, reformatting it carefully until it suited her purposes. The one advantage of being a personality completely buried within the network was that she could actually see the network and defeat any routine security checks, ones configured to watch for self-aware viral packages. It was easy enough to create the illusion of her old room and bed back on Samaria and lie down on it, before starting to fission again into new copies. It wasn’t quite like giving birth — as she acknowledged with a wry grin — but it would suffice. Besides, she’d always wanted children one day.

The Killers, she decided, as the first of her copies headed out to examine the Killer network from the inside, were never going to know what had hit them.

Chapter Twelve

Captain David Heidecker was composing a video letter to his wife, Sharon, when the Observer began to shake violently. The starship had watched from a distance — a distance the entire nine-man crew hope fervently was safe — as the Lightning’s attack wing and the Footsoldiers launched their assault on the Killer starship. They’d then spent a week floating in space, watching for any sign of a Killer response, but nothing had materialised.

He pulled himself to his feet, catching the edge of his desk as another shockwave threatened to send him sprawling onto the deck, and sprinted for the hatch. The one advantage of the tiny Alpha-class destroyers, far smaller than their massive Killer foes, was that every compartment on the ship was close to every other compartment. It only took seconds for him to reach the bridge and hurl himself into his command chair, just as yet another shockwave crashed over the destroyer.

“Report,” he snapped, clutching on to the chair’s arms for dear life. “What’s happening?”

“Major gravity waves, emitting from a source point two light years away,” the sensor officer reported, grimly. “I have been unable to locate their cause.”

“The Killers,” Heidecker snarled. Space wasn’t as empty as most civilians believed; gravity waves, ion storms and countless other natural hazards bedevilled starships and their crews. Gravity waves were uniquely dangerous in that they travelled faster than light — the crew would have no warning about the danger before the first wave struck home — but waves on such a scale couldn’t have a natural cause. “Sound red alert and send a FLASH transmission to Sparta. The Killers are coming out to play.”

He leaned back in his chair as the display updated rapidly. “The gravity waves are focusing now,” the sensor officer added. “I’m picking up a Killer starship… two Killer starships” — he broke off in horror — “seventeen Killer starships, emerging from the gravity pulses and closing at four hundred times the speed of light.”

“Helm, prepare to take evasive manoeuvres,” Heidecker ordered, tightly. No one had ever seen more than three Killer starships together outside of one of their systems, no one. They didn’t seem to have the urge to build vast fleets, or to deploy them as a group, although normally the firepower of a single starship would be more than sufficient for any likely threat. They’d noticed the loss of the captured vessel, all right, part of his mind whispered. They’d brought an entire fleet to… discuss the issue with the humans who had captured it. “Time to intercept?”

“Nine minutes and counting,” the tactical officer reported. He sounded stunned; Heidecker couldn’t blame him. A single Killer starship would have been a hopeless foe for Observer; seventeen of them could probably exterminate the entire Defence Force without raising a sweat. Another shockwave hit the starship before he could continue. “They’re scanning local space with FTL sensors, sir; they know we’re here.”

Heidecker looked up towards the display. The daunting sight of so many massive vessels racing towards him was almost hypnotic, yet his training kept him from panicking. “Move us to a safe distance,” he ordered, calmly, refusing to consider that there might not be any such thing. “Keep updating the Admiral on our situation; anyone who wishes to open their recorders may do so.”

Observer started to shudder constantly as the Killer starships plunged closer. Heidecker braced himself for a collision, but the helm officer responded smoothly and pulled them out of the oncoming enemy fleet’s course. He looked down at the feed from the passive sensors as they slipped away; no one had seen any Killer starships using such sensors, or even travelling anywhere in such a hurry. The sheer scale of their power was terrifying. How had they worked up the nerve to attack and capture one Killer starship?

The shuddering seemed to fade away as the Killers raced towards their destination, coming to a sudden stop that should, by rights, have turned the crew into jelly. A human starship that attempted such a manoeuvre would have suffered immediate and terminal compensator failure, but the Killers just seemed to do it effortlessly. He glanced down at the plotting chart, but his hunch proved to be correct; they had stopped at the exact spot where the captured Killer starship had died.

“They’re quartering space pretty thoroughly,” the sensor officer said, grimly. He looked nervous — no, terrified; his implants were all that were keeping him from falling apart — as he studied his readings. “I doubt that there’s a single atom that they haven’t catalogued out there.”

Heidecker shared a long look with his tactical officer. “They won’t locate any debris, will they?”

“No sir,” the tactical officer said. “If the captured starship had experienced a complete matter-to-energy conversion it would have gone up like a small supernova. They could hardly have failed to miss the evidence as they came roaring in. No, they’ll probably know that the craft was moved after the Footsoldiers captured it and killed the alien operating the ship. If they don’t know where…”

Heidecker nodded. He’d kept abreast of what little the Admiral had allowed him to learn of the captured starship, but security considerations had forbidden him to know more than the bare minimum. One of the things he did know was that the Admiral was worried that there might be an emergency beacon on the Killer starship, but if the Killer fleet was examining its last known location instead of Star’s End, it suggested that there wasn’t. It was an odd oversight — communications and life support were always the last things to go on a human starship — but perhaps it made sense to the Killers.

“Keep us well back,” he ordered. Somehow, he doubted the Killers would be ignoring any human starships today. The links to the other picket ships suggested that they were still being ignored, but the last set of updates reported that four of their targets had opened wormholes and vanished… perhaps to join the fleet hunting for their missing comrade. “Sensors… can they read us at this distance?”

“Uncertain, Captain,” the sensor officer said. “They scanned us earlier, but we are not putting out any kind of active radiation. They may be capable of maintaining a sensor lock using technology beyond our ability to detect, but if that’s the case, we have no way to know about it.”

“You don’t know, in other words,” Heidecker said, without anger. There were still far too many Unknowns about the Killers. “Keep watching them through passive sensors, but don’t go active without my direct order.”

He sat back in his command chair, feeling his implants slowly calming his mind and body. The one advantage they had was that the Killer starships were so vast they generated their own gravity fields, allowing them to be tracked through passive gravimetric sensors. They seemed to be remaining still, but it was anyone’s guess how long that would last. By now, even assuming strict parity with human technology, they would know that their missing comrade was gone.

And what, he asked himself, would they do then? Would they start doing what human crews would do and start examining nearby systems, or would they come after Observer on the assumption that her crew could tell them where to find their missing comrade? Heidecker knew that if there was a chance of Observer falling intact into their hands — if they had hands — he had strict orders to trigger the self-destruct sequence and blow the starship, along with the recording implants in their brains, to atoms. He looked down at the communications screen that should have linked him with Sparta, and the Admiral, but it was silent. Sparta wasn’t trying to micromanage from their distance, for which he was silently grateful. The last thing he needed was some desk jockey trying to run the encounter from thousands of light years away.

“They’ve cancelled their high-power scans,” the sensor officer said, suddenly. “If they’re still scanning, they’re using something beyond our ability to detect.”

“Assume they’re no longer scanning,” Heidecker said. “What might they be doing?”

The sensor officer shrugged. Active sensors could be detected at a considerable distance; they could even be detected at ranges that allowed the hunted to know that it was being hunted, without informing the hunter that they’d found their target. Passive sensors, on the other hand, listened for other sources of energy, including active sensors, warp signatures and weapons being fired. The Killers could be watching them like hawks through their passive sensors and they’d never know about it.

Heidecker shivered. He’d taken part in drills that had two starships creeping around, each one hoping to detect the betraying signature of an active sensor before the opponent detected his presence. They had always struck him as creepy, in a sense; the only consolation was that the Killers hardly needed to sneak around, not with their level of firepower. Unless… the thought was tantalising; unless they thought that humanity had invented a whole new weapons system that could take out an entire Killer starship! How much did they actually know about what had happened to their comrade?

The starship shivered slightly under his feet. “Low-level gravity waves,” the sensor officer said, a moment later. “They’re moving… sir, one of them is heading directly towards us.”

“Evasive action,” Heidecker snapped. It couldn’t be a coincidence. The Killers had to be coming for them. “Helm, prepare to trigger the Anderson Drive and jump us out of here on my signal.”

“The Killer starship is now exceeding the speed of light,” the sensor officer added. “They’re altering course to match ours. They’ll be in observed weapons range in twenty-three seconds and counting.”

Observer twisted again in space, ramping up her own warp drive and speeding away from the Killer starship, only to have her course matched effortlessly. The monstrous starship was giving chase, calmly pacing them and closing in steadily. It shouldn’t have been able to maintain such speeds without warp drive — Heidecker found himself hunting for evidence of a warp field and saw nothing — but once again, the Killers defied the laws of science as humanity knew them. The helm officer did the best he could, yet the Killers tossed a twenty-kilometre long starship around as if it were a starfighter.

They’re playing with us, Heidecker thought, suddenly. It was hard to be certain, but he was very aware that the Killers could probably have killed them all almost from the start. They’re trying to see where we go.

His gaze slipped back to the display as the Killer starship drew closer. “Helm,” he ordered, “jump us out of here.”

The starship rang like a bell. New emergency icons flashed up in front of his eyes. “The Tachyon Field refused to form,” the engineer reported, through the data network. “They somehow countered the field and threw the energy back at us. I can’t explain it or counter it.”

“Understood,” Heidecker said. That changed everything. No one had known that it was possible to counter a Tachyon field… and all of a sudden, escape had become impossible. He’d dawdled too long and now they were trapped. “Tactical, load warp torpedo bays and prepare to open fire on my command.”

It was a desperate gamble and one he already strongly suspected to be futile, but what choice was left to him? “Weapons ready, sir,” the tactical officer said. “Warp torpedoes are locked on target.”

Heidecker looked back at the monstrous starship steadily closing in on them. “Fire, he ordered calmly. “Fire at will.”

Observer shuddered as it unleashed a spread of warp torpedoes towards their target. The Defence Force had designed them to solve a tactical problem, yet the destroyer was limited in how many such weapons it could deploy. Energy weapons couldn’t travel faster than the speed of light and an enemy ship could simply outrace lasers or plasma bolts, therefore warp missiles — antimatter warheads mounted on a warp sled — could be used to hit a target retreating at warp speed. There was an additional benefit to using the weapons. Powerful explosions within the target’s warp field tended to disrupt the warp field and cause them to drop out of warp, back to more mundane speeds, where they could be targeted with standard weapons. If the Killers truly didn’t use warp fields, however, there was no way of knowing what would happen when the warp missiles detonated.

The Killer starship didn’t bother to try to dodge or unleash counter-missiles of its own. The warp missiles tracked in and slammed right into the prow of the killer starship, vanishing in the bright-white glare of matter-antimatter mutual annihilation. If the Killer ship took any damage at all, it didn’t show it; it just kept coming, without even bothering to slow its pace. It seemed to be mocking the human crew. Heidecker knew it was unlikely, but he was convinced that the Killers were laughing at them, enjoying their sport at human expense. It was personal now.

“No observed damage,” the sensor officer said. There was a sudden pause. “Captain; energy spike!”

The Killer starship seemed to twinkle and unleash a single ball of white light towards the Observer. The helm officer didn’t wait for orders — standard procedures existed for such situations — and threw the destroyer into a corkscrew manoeuvre, evading the ball of energy with ease. Heidecker looked down at the sensor readings and shook his head. How were the Killers projecting energy faster than light? Like so much else they showed off so casually, it should have been impossible. The Killer starship shimmered and unleashed a second ball, and then a third, steadily bracketing the human ship. Heidecker ran the calculations in his head and concluded that they had bare minutes to live.

“Find me somewhere we can hide,” he ordered, tartly. At their speed, they were crossing hundreds of light years every minute, yet the Killers were still closing in on them. He thought about setting course for the nearest Defence Force base, before dismissing the idea at once. There was nothing they could do to help them and he would merely lead the Killers to the base. “A nebula or a gas giant, or…”

“Got it,” the sensor officer said. Heidecker heard a new flash of hope in his voice and hoped that it was not misplaced. “CAS-3473746-6; a Jupiter-class gas giant. It’s two minutes away at our current speed.”

Another white ball of light flashed past the Observer. “Take us there,” Heidecker ordered, grimly. If they could slip into the gas giant’s atmosphere, they’d be safe, unless the Killers decided to give chase down into the gravity well. They’d have to be mad even to try. How could they hope to steer their ship inside a gas giant’s atmosphere. If he hadn’t been desperate, he wouldn’t have done it on a bet. “Maximum warp.”

The Killers didn’t stop their pursuit, or their firing, as the Observer flew right into the uninhabited system and decelerated rapidly, racing down towards the massive gas giant. Heidecker had never seen the legendary Jupiter — the Sol System was off-limits to everyone without special authorisation — but the gas giant they were approaching seemed similar, although there was no trace of a Big Red Spot. Instead, the gas giant’s atmosphere seemed to billow with orange-yellow clouds, suggesting a perfect hiding place…

“Enemy contact,” the sensor officer barked, as a new red icon flashed into existence. “It’s coming out of the gas giant.”

Heidecker stared, unable to believe his eyes. The massive Iceberg-class Killer starship emerged slowly from the mists of the gas giant, as it if were giving birth to a monstrous child. The Killer ship was tiny compared to the gas giant, but it was right in the Observer’s path, blocking their escape. He wondered, absurdly, what kind of lift system would allow them to move such a starship so effortlessly, before he began to bark orders at his crew. They might just be able to hide in the rings surrounding the gas giant.

For a moment, he thought that they had escaped, but then the Killers opened fire, scattering even that false hope. They were shooting at the rocks and ice that made up the rings, the brilliant glare of total matter-energy conversation illuminating the rings… and revealing their location. The helm officer took them out of the rings as fast as possible, leaving the Killers smashing through the rubble in hot pursuit, but it was useless. As soon as the Killers were clear of the rings, they went FTL themselves… and they were no longer playing around. The distance between the two craft shrank so sharply that it was horrifyingly clear that the Killers had been playing with them.

“Load torpedo bays,” he ordered, hopelessly. The Observer’s drives were on the verge of burning out. A few minutes more and they’d lose the warp drive and end up dead in space, and then literally dead when the Killers overran them. “Charge weapons and bring us around to face the bastards.”

The distance between the two starships closed terrifyingly quickly as the Observer closed in on the Killer ship, ducking and weaving to avoid the brilliant flashes of white light. The tactical officer opened fire as soon as they entered weapons range, trying to at least scorch the Killer’s hull, but it was useless. The Killers shrugged off their attacks and kept coming. All they needed, Heidecker knew, was a single hit. It would be enough to blow the Observer into atoms.

“Point us straight at them,” he ordered, finally accepting their fate. There was no longer any point in running. “Dump the memory to the MassMind and go to ramming speed!”

The two starships slammed together at a significant fraction of the speed of light. Observer vanished in a ball of fire. The Killer starship staggered under the impact, but seemed undamaged. There was no one left to care. A moment later, it turned about, opened a wormhole, and vanished to parts unknown.

Chapter Thirteen

Seen from high above, it was easy to perceive the Milky Way as nothing more than a shining disk of light. The stars seemed to blur into one harmonious glow, creating the illusion that the galaxy was a living thing, spinning in space. The spiral arms could barely be made out as separate from the remainder of the galaxy; they were, after all, only areas where the stars were denser than average. Admiral Brent Roeder could have stared at the image for hours, forgetting the Killers and the desperate struggle to survive. It was almost hypnotic.

He shook his head and uploaded a single mental command into the room’s processor. The disk vanished, to be replaced by a tactical chart of the entire galaxy, marked out to display the location of known Killer bases and starships. A thousand years of exploration, Brent knew, had barely touched the surface of the galaxy. God alone knew what might be lurking in some of the darker recesses of space. It would be easy to become convinced that there were other races and civilisations out there, hiding from the Killers, completely beyond human detection. It would be nice to believe that humanity wasn’t alone — or, rather, only sharing the galaxy with homicidal aliens in massive starships — but there was no time for wishful thinking. To all intents and purposes, humanity was alone.

Two hundred years ago, humanity had happened across yet another dead world, after a starship on a routine mission had detected radio transmissions coming from the sector. The starship had moved to investigate — carefully; it might have been a Killer installation — only to find another blackened ruin of a world. The ship had kept picking up the signals, right up until the final moment, when the Killer starships had appeared in an alien sky. The aliens had been bird-like, taking their first steps into a whole new medium, when the Killers destroyed them. The human race knew that they had existed and bore silent testimony to their existence, yet who would record humanity’s presence? What race would arise in the future to oppose the Killers?

Brent looked down at the display, but his mind was elsewhere. Over a thousand years ago, before humanity had taken more than the first tentative steps into space, human scientists had pondered the absence of any alien contact. A scientist called Fermi had devised a famous paradox, concluding that an alien race that had evolved thousands of years before humanity should have filled up the galaxy long before the human race had appeared on the scene. He’d implied that the absence of any alien contact suggested that there were no other races in existence, a conclusion that had been hotly disputed at the time. The paradox hadn’t been solved until hundreds of years later. There were no other alien races because the Killers were systematically killing them off before they could become powerful enough to challenge their superiority. It still galled Brent that after a thousand years, after a fortnight spent studying the captured starship, humanity still had no idea why the Killers had embarked on their insane crusade. There seemed no logical reason for mass slaughter.

Or perhaps, he considered, there was a reason. Space was not a safe environment. The Killers might believe that it was kill or be killed, with no middle ground. Perhaps they didn’t dare trust any other race, regardless of its actual nature, or perhaps they had evolved to regard all other sentient forms of life as a possible threat. Human history had hundreds of examples of preemptive strikes mounted by human aggressors; was it really so unlikely that aliens would behave in the same way?

He smiled, bitterly. The Defence Force had been urged to study human pre-space science-fiction novels, in hopes of mining useful ideas from early conceptions of space warfare, and it had struck him how insanely hopeful most of those novels had been. They’d foreseen a great destiny for humanity, one where humanity dominated the entire galaxy, or founded mighty federations and empires, or even become superhuman amid the stars. They’d foreseen alien friends and enemies. Even the worst, the most depressing, hadn’t predicted the sheer bleakness of the universe, or the absence of all other forms of life, apart from one. Human imagination had proven itself to be far too limited.

“Cromwell,” he called. “Isolate all Killer bases on the display.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI said. The display removed all icons, but the dark circles representing Killer bases and star systems. “Do you wish to zoom in on the display?”

“Not at present,” Brent said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Just hold it right there…”

There were hundreds of known Killer bases in the galaxy, all being watched — from a safe distance, or what humanity devoutly hoped was a safe distance — by various starships, automated probes and listening posts. The Defence Force had vast resources to deploy in the defence of humanity — the Community was effectively a post-scarcity society — yet it was always short of manpower. It seemed to Brent that two-thirds of every generation grew up, took one look at the universe, and vanished permanently into virtual worlds that sheltered them from the truth. The remainder, if they had all joined the Defence Force, would have provided more than enough manpower, but not all chose to serve. They wanted to found new colonies, or flee out of the galaxy altogether, or follow their own careers. He had to admit that there were some pretty impressive artistic talents out there, but if the Killers ever decided to go after humanity and finish the job, the artists would be as helpless as their cousins in the VR worlds. Or, for that matter, the handful of human colonies struggling along on planetary surfaces without technology, or any other form of labour-saving device.

The thought reminded him of the brief civil war on Garden, one of the nastier incidents in the Community’s history. The colonists had been seduced into believing that a life without technology would be bliss and paradise, where they would frolic together under blue skies and there would be no Killer shadows hanging over their heads. The colony had barely made it past one winter without massive social unrest and demands from the colonists to bring in additional technology, or return to the stars. The leadership had refused and a bitter civil war had broken out. Eventually, the Defence Force had intervened and imposed a peace settlement, but the colony had collapsed a few years later. The survivors were still bitter about their experience, but they’d been lucky in one respect. There was no sign that the Killers had noticed their world.

“All right, Cromwell,” he said, as a seat formed out of the floor and he sat back in it. “Time to put your analytic capabilities to work. Why did the Killers choose those star systems?”

“Unknown,” the AI said, at once. “We have no data on why the Killers favour some systems over others.”

“True,” Brent agreed, wishing — not for the first time — for the massive flexibility and insight of the MassMind. “What do all those systems have in common?”

The AI seemed to pause, although Brent knew that that was merely a programmed conceit. Even the merest AI thought far faster than any human. Cromwell might have lacked the sheer processing power, coupled with human intuition, of the MassMind, but he still had access to more raw data than any human mind could comprehend. Brent didn’t fully trust the MassMind — its very nature made the concept of operational security a joke — but the AI was reliable. Sparta had nothing, but the best.

“They all include vast resources,” Cromwell said, finally. “The smallest observed system has seven rocky planets, two gas giants, three asteroid fields and a considerable amount of comets, space dust and other assorted debris. The largest observed system, up near the galactic core, includes nine gas giants and seven rocky worlds, along with two asteroid fields. The Killers would be able to build thousands of their starships from the resources in just one of their systems.”

“Gas giants,” Brent repeated, slowly. The debriefing session had included the suggestion, from Paula Handley, that the Killers had evolved in a gas giant, rather than an Earth-like world. The concept had surprised him — and left him wondering why no one had thought of it before — even though it seemed impossible. There was no supporting evidence, yet there was a considerable amount of indirect proof; the Killers, certainly, had never settled an Earth-like world. They seemed prepared, instead, to break them up for resources. “They all have gas giants in common.”

“Yes, sir,” Cromwell said. “They also have rocky planets and asteroid belts in common as well.”

Brent smiled wryly. The AI would interpret anything he said literally. “I want you to run a comparison,” he said. “Have we ever seen a Killer starship in a system that lacks a gas giant?”

There was another pause. “No,” Cromwell said, finally. The AI seemed to hesitate. “I must point out, however, that we have been unable to track all known Killer vessels for long periods of time and they might well have visited systems without gas giants.”

“True,” Brent agreed, although he was convinced that he’d made an important discovery. “All of the attacked star systems, all of the Killed star systems, do they have gas giants as well?”

“Negative,” the AI said. “Seventeen dead worlds were located in systems that do not possess a gas giant.”

“Our worlds,” Brent corrected, impatiently. “Did we ever lose a system that lacked a gas giant?”

“No,” Cromwell said. “All attacked human star systems included at least two gas giants. Do you believe that that provided a motivation for the attacks?”

“I don’t know,” Brent admitted. “I just don’t know.”

He looked down at the display, watching the Killer star systems slowly spinning around the galactic core. Human scouts had confirmed that there was a massive black hole right at the heart of the galaxy and, eventually, it would devour the entire Milky Way. If the human race was still around, billions of years in the future, they might have to flee the galaxy completely, or perhaps… by then they might have mastered technology they could use to control or seal the black hole.

“Let’s look at this from a different angle,” he said. “Access the Armageddon files.”

“Files accessed,” Cromwell said. The AI sounded vaguely surprised. Unlike a human, or a personality in the MassMind, the AI could be ordered to literally forget something until permitted to relearn the information. “I have the information active in a secure file.”

“Good,” Brent said. He learned back in his chair, feeling the malleable metal shifting to conform to his rear. “How many such devices can we build?”

The starbomb — the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator, as Tabitha had insisted on calling it, although Brent thought that that was rather silly and typical of a senile personality in the MassMind — had been an accidental development. The researchers had been looking for a way to counter the Killers’ command of gravity and had accidentally discovered a method for snuffing out, or exploding, an entire star. It was a war-winning weapon, in some ways, yet Brent was very aware that the Killers had thousands of star systems. Could they all be sent supernova before the Killers struck back?

“Assuming the complete devotion of the entire Community industrial base to the task,” Cromwell said, “we will be able to produce roughly seven hundred devices per month. The vast majority of nanotech fabricators are unsuitable for producing such weapons. If we restrict development to Defence Force fabricators, we will be able to produce, at most, a hundred a month.”

“Give me a breakdown,” Brent ordered. The charts appeared in front of his eyes and he studied them thoughtfully. “What would happen if we made such a commitment?”

“Local stockpiles of components for starships would be depleted rapidly,” Cromwell informed him. “The Defence Force would be unable to complete the construction of additional starships unless components were sourced from outside fabricators or other sources of supply. It would hamper our ability to support the war effort.”

“Such as it is,” Brent muttered. “I want a full analysis. Could the Killers prevent us from deploying the weapons?”

“If the deploying starship were to be destroyed before the weapon was launched, the weapon would be destroyed along with it,” Cromwell said. The AI seemed to consider. “I am unable to speculate on how the Killers might deal with the reaction in the star, once unleashed; they may be able to counter the reaction and prevent the star from going supernova. The only way to know is to see what happens when we fire the weapon.”

There was a pause. “There is a secondary concern,” Cromwell added. “The results of the strike may not be decisive.”

“Explain,” Brent ordered, sharply. “Are you suggesting that the Killers might survive a supernova?”

“It is a possibility,” Cromwell said. “The weapon works by creating massive disruption within the star that will cause it to explode, blowing off a vast amount of superheated matter. The explosion, depending upon the exact moment of detonation, will expel a considerable percentage of the star’s material at a tenth of the speed of light into the surrounding interstellar medium. The wave of energy would devastate any Earth-like world, but it may not destroy a gas giant, although there would be serious consequences for the planet’s environment.”

Brent looked down at the display again. “And that wouldn’t harm the Killers?”

“We know nothing about their habitations in the gas giants, or even if they truly live there,” Cromwell reminded him. “We may cause complete destruction or they may live far down enough to ride out the blast. Again, we are unable to be sure of the consequences until we actually launch the weapon.”

“I see,” Brent said. A thought struck him. “What would happen if we were to turn the weapon on the gas giants instead?”

“There would be no question of the effective destruction of the target planet,” Cromwell said, finally. “The effects on the remainder of the star system would not be comparable to a supernova, mainly because other possible targets will be sheltered behind the local star. It is unlikely that the planet-bound Killers could survive the destruction of their planet.”

“Unless they have something else up their sleeves,” Brent said, sourly. By common consent, those who knew about the starbombs had decided to only build a handful of such weapons — and to avoid using them until they had decided how best to proceed. “Have we completed our study of possible evolutionary paths for the Killers?”

“No, sir,” Cromwell said. “I believe that Professor Jones and his team are still working on the data from the captured ship. They have not yet completed their research…”

The AI broke off. “Sir, I am picking up a priority signal from the Observer,” Cromwell said. “She is under attack by the Killers!”

“Show me,” Brent ordered.

The final moments of the Observer seemed to fly past terrifyingly quickly. He’d never seen so many Killer starships gathered together outside of one of their star systems, let alone actually paying attention to humanity. All of a sudden, he wasn’t so convinced that encouraging them to take an interest was a good idea; the Killer starship chased the Observer towards a gas giant, where it encountered another Killer starship. The final moments of the starship, as it turned and rammed its tormentor, remained with him as the signal link broke. There was no doubting that the Observer was gone and that her crew was dead.

“Poor bastards,” he said, grimly. On one hand, he knew that many more would die before the war ended; on the other, it came as a shock after the successful capture of a Killer starship. There could be no questioning the fact that the Killers knew that something had happened now; the only good news was that Star’s End hadn’t received a visit. The Killers weren’t capable of tracking their lost ship down. “Do you have a complete copy of their telemetry?”

“Yes, sir,” Cromwell said. “There are also copies being dispatched to the various analysis centres and the MassMind. They will have reports for you soon.”

“Good,” Brent said, grimly. He wanted to study them himself, but he was still too close to the disaster. The crew of the Observer had deserved better. The entire Defence Force deserved better than a hopeless fight against overwhelming odds. “Make sure that the Defence Forums in the MassMind see the information. They might be able to offer different insights into the incident.”

He looked down at the display once again and felt his resolve harden. “Contact the Admirals in command of the various fleets and inform them that I want volunteers for a dangerous mission,” he added, bringing up the Observer’s final location. There was a whole Killer base they hadn’t even known existed. Had the Killers infested all of the galaxy’s gas giants? Destroying them might become even more impossible than it had been before the Observer was lost. “I think it’s time we tested the device on a live target.”

“I would remind you that the deployment of such weapons is in the jurisdiction of the War Council,” Cromwell said. The AI’s voice was dispassionate, but firm. “Do you intend to seek permission?”

“Of course,” Brent said. He replayed again the final moments of the Observer. “I think the entire human race wants to just strike back and to hell with the consequences.”

“That would appear to be typical of the human race,” the AI said. “The loss of a single planet will not cripple the Killers, while it will expose human settlements to their retaliation. I do not feel that this is a wise move.”

“No?” Brent asked. “Tell me, then. At which point do we stop running and fight back?”

Chapter Fourteen

Paula was no stranger to walking in space — like everyone born on an asteroid habitat, she’d made her first spacewalk as soon as she could operate a child-suitable spacesuit — but Star’s End was different. Intellectually, she knew that there was no real difference between walking in space back home and at Star’s End, but her hindbrain kept screaming at her about the dangers of floating off into intergalactic space. She kept trying to convince herself that if she lost control, one of the starships or interplanetary bugs would rescue her long before she passed out of the system, yet somehow her mind refused to believe. The presence of the Killer starship, sitting helplessly in a vast framework of sensors and observation units, only added to her unease. The last time she’d been so close to that craft, it had been trying to kill her.

“We, the dispossessed, the outcasts, return our friends to the stars,” the preacher said, her words echoing over the communications link. The first coffin was already moving, pushed out of the magnetic cage and launched towards the star, followed by the second. A handful of bodies had been recovered from the captured starship, but most of the coffins were empty. The Killer weapons, with their complete matter-energy conversion fields, left very little behind to bury. “Their light will shine on our descendents, thousands of years in the future, when all around us is dead and dust. We will not forget them.”

Paula swallowed hard as the next coffin moved past her, heading onwards towards its final destination. She hadn’t grasped the realities of death before, even though she’d seen men die on the Killer starship, for it was true death. The starship crews the Killers had killed hadn’t had time to transmit their final personality recordings into the MassMind. There was nothing left of them, but atoms and memories. Others had been luckier, but only by degree; the MassMind had only fractions of their personalities to integrate. Paula had broken tradition, which mandated that all personalities were forbidden to interact with the living until after the funeral, to check up on them, but the MassMind supervisors hadn’t been hopeful. The personalities were broken and fragmented and, lacking a real sense of self, would probably end up collapsing into the MassMind and losing what remained of their individuality. They would never live again…

There were other possibilities, darker ones. Every so often, something discovered the potential of copying a MassMind personality into a cloned body, allowing a personality to live again, but it was illegal. A newly-born clone brain would be unable to accept the transcribing process, while an adult clone would be a living breathing being in his or her own right. The Community had banned any such experimentation, but in a society where information was free and resources virtually infinitive, someone was probably experimenting without any regard for moral concerns. It shouldn’t have surprised her — all moral concerns had been thrown aside in the desperate fight for survival — but it made her uncomfortable. The human race couldn’t fight monsters by becoming monsters themselves.

“Nelson Oshiro, Argyris Aniketos, Nomiki Dimitris, Tyrone Leff, Clinton Remus, Darryl O’Hare, Tyrone Knobel…” The list of names went on and on. “We bid them farewell and look forward to meeting them again in the land where no shadows fall, knowing now that they shine their light upon us all.”

Paula almost rolled her eyes. She knew, as an astrophysics expert, that the bodies would vaporise as they reached the local star, sending out a brief flare of light that would be almost unnoticed amid the star’s permanent glare. The Deist beliefs never quite made sense to her anyway; they were a strange mixture of Old Earth religions and countless New Age cults that had established asteroid habitats so that they could practice their beliefs away from a sceptical world. The funeral wasn’t for the benefit of the dead, even those who still lived on in the MassMind, but for the living. They had died to give her a chance to unravel the mysteries of the Killer starship.

She looked back towards the Killer ship as the preacher finally came to the end of his sermon. She’d spent the first week being debriefed — and listening to endless lectures from the biological studies professors on how dare she kill the first representative of an alien race — on everything that had happened on the mission, and assisting the researchers to explore the starship’s interior. They had barely scratched the surface of the Killer starship, yet they were already making astonishing discoveries. It would be years before they understood everything that the Killers did so casually, but the new insights were worth their weight in gold…

Except she had a feeling that something was wrong. No one else seemed to think it, but every time she travelled onboard the Killer starship, she had the oddest sense that it was… waiting. It felt like a crowded theatre waiting for the play to open, or a woman waiting for her lover, a silence pregnant with anticipation. No one else had reported feeling anything out of the ordinary — at least for an alien starship large enough to swallow everything else at Star’s End — but she couldn’t escape her worries. They had barely begun to scratch the surface of the Killer starship. God alone knew what secrets it was hiding.

Her suit began to move through space under remote control as the sermon ended, after the final coffin was dispatched towards the star. Now, according to tradition, there would be a loud party and a wake for the departed, but she knew that it wouldn’t be personal. It wouldn’t be focused on one person, a person she knew well, but on all of the dead. She would have preferred to have spent the night on the Killer starship, alone and stark naked, but there was no choice. Even in a post-scarcity society, where she could obtain the resources — if not the permissions — to carry out wherever experiment she felt like carrying out, there were some who were more equal than others. The Technical Faction needed her to show the flag, no matter what she thought about it.

Bastards, she thought, as the burial party was flown towards the massive asteroid settlement. Star’s End wasn’t particularly large, as asteroid settlements went, but it was still far beyond a human scale. Thousands of humans, mainly dedicated researchers, occupied the handful of asteroid colonies, trying to unlock the secrets of Killer technology. A few weeks ago, she would have sold her soul to join them. Now she couldn’t wait to leave.

She took a long breath as the suit rocketed her towards the entrance and through the forcefield that prevented the atmosphere from leaking out of the asteroid. It would all be over soon, she decided. She would shake a few hands, engage in a little polite conversation, and leave as soon as she decently could. It couldn’t be as bad as she thought, could it?

* * *

Damned dress uniform, Captain Chris Kelsey thought angrily, as he tugged at the collar. The Footsoldiers normally had the best equipment on hand for anything they needed — and if they didn’t have it, they could practically obtain it on demand. The dress uniforms, however, had been designed by sadists and nothing he could do to his dress uniform could make it comfortable. He wore enough gold braid over the dress blues to outshine the local star — real gold braid, not a substitute — and a hat that was supposed to have been modelled on a real military hat from the pre-space years on Earth. He suspected that it had come from one of the more unstable armies in one of the more unstable nation-states; the soldiers had probably mutinied and launched coups to avoid having to wear the stupid headgear. The sword and laser pistol just completed his utter humiliation.

The party was being held in the middle of the asteroid’s garden, with enough grassy areas and foliage to provide both open spaces and concealed areas for couples to snatch a little privacy. The majority of the asteroid’s settlers probably welcomed the party more than anyone else, although the inhabitants had probably realised that the presence of the Killer starship meant that they’d suddenly woken up to find themselves on the front lines. There was no reason why the Killers couldn’t reach Star’s End and the handful of Defence Force starships couldn’t hope to hold the line if they attacked. Chris privately suspected that the real reason the Footsoldiers had been kept at Star’s End was so that they could repeat their boarding feat with an antimatter bomb, although he doubted that that trick would work twice. The Killers had definitely been aware of the boarding party before the end.

He cast his gaze over one area of the garden and rolled his eyes. Seven girls — it might have been eight; it was hard to sort out the number of limbs — were rolling around on the grass together, completely naked. It was hardly an uncommon sight in an environment where Old Earth’s social taboos had largely faded away, but it struck him as disrespectful, somehow. All Footsoldiers knew that there was a chance that they could face permanent death out among the stars, yet few really believed that it could happen to them. They didn’t want to believe it. Chris had read all the military material that had survived the destruction of Earth, including tales so tall that he suspected that they had been exaggerated, and he couldn’t understand how the soldiers had managed to take such risks without even a chance at immortality. It beggared belief just how careless some of the Old Earth Generals had been with their men, but then, manpower had never been a problem for them. They hadn’t known how lucky they’d been.

There was a long table, completely groaning with food and drink, and he took a small plate, pausing to exchange polite compliments with some of the hosts. Star’s End, at least, didn’t belong to any of the Peace Factions or the Killer-Worshipping religions, neither of which would be happy to see a Footsoldier in uniform. The Peaceniks believed that if humanity didn’t provoke the Killers, they wouldn’t come and complete their task of exterminating the human race, while the religious nuts worshipped the Killers, seeing them as a modern-day Flood, or horde of locusts. Chris had no time for either set of beliefs. There was no evidence that the Killers were either inclined to leave the remainder of humanity alone, or ‘assist’ the human race further. They only seemed to exist to kill.

“You did well out there,” one of the researchers said, sipping something so strong that Chris could smell it even without his augmented senses. His own nanites were flushing out and countering the alcohol before it could really get into his system. It would be nice to get extremely drunk, but it would probably have resulted in a catastrophe. “Did you happen to notice…?”

Chris listened to the researcher go on, answering what questions he could — although most of them covered topics that had been explored in the debriefing sessions — and broke away from him as soon as he decently could. The researchers were fascinated by the Killer starship — and he supposed that at an intellectual level it was fascinating — but it was nothing, but an enemy to him. The entire starship had pulsed with a malign intelligence that had killed entire worlds and thought nothing of killing his men, even though their armour. He wanted a weapon that would blow right through the alien ships and freedom to use it, not kind words. The scientists complained about the damage the Footsoldiers had caused as they fled towards the Killer’s chamber and their final stand.

“You’re looking lost,” a voice said, from behind him. He turned, wondering if the drink had dulled his senses anyway, despite the nanites, to see Paula. She wore a simple blue cocktail dress and a look that, he wryly acknowledged, probably matched his expression. It was easy to see, now, that she was baseline human. There were no unsightly modifications to her body. “Want to come sit with me instead?”

Chris smiled and allowed her to lead him out of the crowd and up towards a more private area somewhere within the jungle. The asteroid’s AI had just left the jungle to grow almost at random, then created paths through the tangle to allow humans to explore a shadow of a real world. It was easy to forget — thanks to sound-dampening fields — that there were entire crowds only bare metres away. It was as private as one could get in the garden.

“Thanks,” he said, relieved. She probably wasn’t offering sex, part of his mind reluctantly decided, but he was more than grateful for the save. “I was going mad in there.”

“Me too,” Paula said. They found a patch of dry grass and sat down, disturbing a pair of bees and forcing them to buzz away. The AI maintained the ecology and included as many savaged forms of life from Earth as it could. It was a shame that it was impossible to recreate so many dead animals from Earth. Chris would have given anything to see a real tiger. “I don’t… surely that isn’t how you plan to say farewell to your fellow Footsoldiers.”

“Hardly,” Chris said, shaking his head. They’d already held a private ceremony, but it wasn’t something he could share with a civilian, even one who had been with them on the mission. It was a private Footsoldier tradition that helped to bind the teams together. “We’ll bid them farewell in our own way and try to forget that this… ceremony ever happened. Did they have you on the outside?”

Paula nodded. “Not something I want to do again,” she admitted. Chris wasn’t surprised. Funerals were never decent occasions… and as for that crazy preacher, well, he wanted a few words with whoever had selected him. What was wrong with a more standard farewell? “And you?”

“Inside looking out,” Chris said. In fact, he’d been trying to get his dress uniform on and failing miserably. The only redeeming feature of the uniform was that it encouraged teamwork. “I would have traded places in a heartbeat.”

“Lucky you,” Paula said, dryly. “Tell me something. Why are you still here?”

“You didn’t tell me to go,” Chris said, and then understood. “You mean at Star’s End? I don’t know. The Admiral seems to have decided that we are to remain here to provide you researchers with the benefit of our experience in the enemy starship and perhaps provide security if required. The location of the captured ship should be a secret, but with the MassMind around hardly anything is secret these days.”

Paula nodded. “True,” she agreed, “but I can’t believe that the MassMind would betray the human race.”

Chris snorted. “If the Killers should happen to listen in to the MassMind and its thoughts, or even our communications, they could be led right here without any intention of betrayal at all,” he reminded her, dryly. The security issues had been hammered into his head repeatedly. It wasn’t helped that no one knew just what the Killers could actually do. In theory, no one could tap into quantum entanglement fields, but in practice… no one knew for sure. “It’s just a routine precaution.”

“I know,” Paula said. She looked over at him suddenly. “Answer me another question. Why are you Footsoldiers all men?”

“Tradition,” Chris said. It had struck him as odd before he joined up — every other post in the Defence Force was determined by ability, not gender — but after his induction he understood the reasoning. “Just after the Killing of Earth, the first Footsoldier units were formed from men only, because men were more expendable than women. The tradition just continued into the present day. Some of my men are actually women who changed themselves into men just to join up.”

Paula gave him an odd look. “Are you a woman?”

“No,” Chris said, with a half-leer. “I’m all man, with a bit of animal thrown in. Roar!”

“Twit,” Paula said. Chris laughed out loud. “I never even thought about becoming a man.”

“I never even thought about becoming a woman, or a Spacer,” Chris agreed. The Community allowed perfect sex changes at will and it wasn’t unknown for civilians to change sex several times in their lives, but Defence Force personnel tended to be more stable and secure in their identities. Spacers, by contrast, cut themselves off from gender, literally. They were effectively tiny spacecraft in their own right. “I always thought I was perfect.”

Paula laughed. “I always wanted to become a researcher and everything else could go hang,” she said, dryly. “And now… I seem to have to spend time shaking hands and telling everyone what fine work we’re doing, instead of exploring the alien ship.”

She paused. “You’ve been exploring the ship and laying beacons and probes as well,” she added. “Do you have any… sense that the ship is still alive?”

Chris felt his eyes narrow. “Now you come to mention it,” he said, “there’s something about the inside of that ship that makes my skin crawl. It’s not a human ship, but I’ve been through Ghost wreckage and I didn’t have the same reaction to their ships.”

“Me too,” Paula said, “but there’s nothing the Ghosts built that we couldn’t duplicate. They were actually more primitive than we were when the Killers arrived, while the Killer ship is beyond our current understanding. I just keep having the feeling that the ship is biding its time and preparing to make its next move.”

Chris opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a FLASH RED alert signal from the Defence Force, coming directly in through his implants. One look at Paula’s horrified face told him that she was hearing the same message. A major Community system was under attack.

The Killer retaliation had begun.

Chapter Fifteen

The massive sensor array was large enough to envelop an Earth-sized planet comfortably, yet so thin and gossamer that a single tiny asteroid could wreck hideous damage on its system. It had grown up over the years from a tiny cell of nanites placed on an asteroid by a human starship, supervised by an AI called IQ-HI, configured to scan for signs of alien activity over thousands of light years. It was a task demanding inhuman patience, watching vast areas of space for tiny spikes of energy that might mark the existence of a hidden civilisations yet IQ-HI didn’t mind. The AI had no sense of time passing, or any capability for boredom. It had more than enough to keep even its vast mental facilities occupied.

Its watch for distant flickers of energy was suddenly disrupted by a massive energy spike bare thousands of kilometres from the array. The wave of energy was so intense that it blinded hundreds of different sensor nodes on the array, forcing IQ-HI to rapidly reprioritise its systems to handle the sudden overload. The wave of energy kept building rapidly, finally stabilising into a massive gravity singularity. IQ-HI compared it rapidly to every known natural event in its memory banks and concluded that it wasn’t a natural phenomenon. Microseconds passed as it checked and rechecked, before reluctantly deciding that the only known source of such power were the Killers. It sent an emergency signal back to System Command and retuned its sensors again. Priority One orders were to record and analyse anything to do with the Killers, even at the expense of more theoretical studies. It had no capability to feel annoyed at the interruption, but if it had had such a capability, it would have done so. It hadn’t been built to respond to every little piece of interference from so-called intelligent beings.

The wave of energy focused into a funeral and then into a wormhole. IQ-HI recorded the sudden shift in power rapidly, noting the arrival of a massive object from somewhere across the galaxy. A lucky shift in the wormhole’s position revealed a glimpse of a star on the other side, wherever it was, allowing IQ-HI to compare it to the massive database of stars in the galaxy. It only took additional microseconds to confirm that the other end of the wormhole was alarmingly close to the galactic core. In the time it took the AI to determine the terminus, four more Killer starships had arrived, accelerating away from the wormhole at sublight speeds. They could have moved quicker, but apparently they were in no hurry — or perhaps the Killers only thought as fast as fleshy humans. The AIs wondered, sometimes, if the Killers were rogue machines, rather than living creatures. It might have explained quite a bit.

It watched dispassionately as the wormhole folded down and faded away, leaving only gravity shockwaves as proof that it had ever existed. Absently, subroutines began to analyse the sheer level of power the Killers had displayed, calculating just how much power they would require to create such a wormhole. No known power source would suffice, unless they actually risked generating the wormhole and keying it to drain power from the quantum foam. The human race had attempted such experiments in the past, but they had always ended badly, destroying the research stations. If the Killers had mastered such technology, it would merely make them a more formidable threat. Their five starships possessed enough firepower to lay waste to the entire system.

And they were accelerating towards the array. An AI, unlike a human, had no room for wishful thinking. At the very least, IQ-HI concluded, they were going to smash straight through the array and destroy it. It would almost certainly terminate IQ-HI’s existence. The AI worked rapidly and uploaded its findings into the MassMind, knowing that more powerful minds would use its readings to generate their own theories, perhaps gain new insight into how the Killer technology worked, before concluding with a compressed copy of itself. Unlike a human, an active AI mind-pattern could be downloaded into another AI core, or even allowed to run freely in the MassMind. It would live again.

It noted the power spike building on one of the Killer craft and added its sensor readings to the upload. The power seemed to build achingly slow — a human would have barely been aware of any delay at all — but eventually the pulse of white light leapt towards the array. There was a brief moment of pain as the array disintegrated — it regarded sensor damage as pain — and then darkness.

* * *

Every alarm in the Asimov System Command Centre was going off at once.

“Shut that racket down,” Captain Thomas Mandell barked. The five massive red icons that were proceeding in towards the heart of the system needed no explanation. The day he’d dreaded ever since assuming the position was finally here, yet nothing, not even the most advanced simulations, had prepared him for this moment. “What is their ETA?”

“They will enter firing range of the main cluster in twenty-one minutes,” his tactical officer reported. Every sensor in the system was focused on the incoming Killer starships. It crossed his mind that any number of pirates and smugglers were probably making their escape while the Defence Force was distracted, but that was hardly a serious concern. They might be the only survivors of the system. “They will be in firing range of mining craft and a handful of tourist ships within ten minutes, unless they change course.”

“Order the tourist ships to jump out now,” Mandell ordered, grimly. A day ago, everything had looked so peaceful. Now he was going to watch as the Killers tore his home system apart. “Contact the mining craft and tell them to pull as many men and women off the platforms before they have to run.”

“Several mining craft have jumped out already,” the tactical officer said. Mandell scowled, but he couldn’t blame them. They hadn’t signed up to face the Killers and their little craft wouldn’t even scratch their paint. “The others are complying.”

“The Docking Master is reporting that almost every starship in the system is either requesting permission to depart or attempting to depart without permission,” the local system officer added. “There’s panic sweeping the asteroids.”

Mandell took a breath. The Asimov System was nothing, but asteroids; there were thousands upon thousands of asteroids circling the dull red star. No one was quite sure why they hadn’t collapsed into planets thousands of years ago, but it suited the human settlers just fine. There were hundreds of asteroid colonies scattered throughout the system and over five billion human lives… all of which were at risk. They all needed to be evacuated before the Killers arrived, yet he could see no way to move them all. It would have been impossible even with the entire Defence Force fleet of starships, let alone the few hundred he had in the system.

“All right,” he said. “Open a channel into the asteroid public announcement system.”

“Channel open, sir,” the communications officer said. “You may speak when ready.”

Mandell smiled bitterly. “This is Captain Mandell,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “There is a Killer fleet approaching this system. I am hereby declaring martial law over the entire system and commencing evacuation procedures. I want everyone to report in to their local processors if they wish to be evacuated and further instructions will be issued. Any panic or violence will be quelled with as much force as is necessary.”

He drew one finger over his throat and the channel cut. “The Local Government isn’t going to be happy about that,” the tactical officer muttered. “They’re going to want to handle the evacuation themselves.”

“They can have me court-martialled if we survive this day,” Mandell snapped, angrily. One Killer starship would be beyond their ability to handle. Five Killer starships were massive overkill. The handful of actual warships in the system would barely be able to slow them down; hell, the Killers could just ignore them and keep burning into the system. “Gunn?”

“Here, sir,” the AI said. Gunn was one of the oldest AIs in existence and claimed to have developed a sense of humour. Everyone else, including other AIs, doubted it. AI attempts to understand human jokes had rarely succeeded. “Where else would I be?”

“Link into the local processors, emergency priority, and start assigning berths for evacuation,” Mandell ordered. “Follow the emergency protocols and push life support on all starships to the limit. I want you to get as many people out as possible. Dump the local MassMind nodes onto the network and snap everyone in the VR worlds out of it; they have to know what’s going on.”

“That would be inadvisable,” Gunn pointed out. “Community Medical Regulations clearly state…”

“Override,” Mandell snapped. The AI was correct — breaking a person out of a VR world would cause massive disorientation, at best — but the alternative was to leave them to die. A treacherous part of his mind wondered if that might not be the best solution — they’d die in their personal heavens, with no awareness of the fate that was about to befall them — but his oath forbade it. “Wake them up and brief them, now.”

He turned away from the AI console, trusting it to handle the task, and looked down at the coordination officer. “Inform the starship commanders that I’m commandeering their vessels for the evacuation effort, centred on the main cluster, and they will dump their holds and take on as many evacuees as possible,” he ordered. “Inform them, in addition, that any attempt to jump the gun and flee without taking on a full load will result in them being engaged by the defences and destroyed.”

The coordination officer worked his console. “They’re pissed, sir,” he reported, with a trace of gallows humour. Evacuation or no evacuation, the Defence Force personnel would remain at their posts. “They’re already filing protests about your orders to everyone who will listen.”

“Never mind,” Mandell said. He could understand their position — the starships represented, even for the Community, a considerable personal investment and real wealth — but he wanted to save as many people as possible. “The Admiral may permit them to bring charges later, but at least they will be alive to bring the charges.”

He turned back to the main display. The Killer starships were closing in on the first mining station, an unnamed asteroid housing a single man and a team of robots. It didn’t matter to anyone, but the miner, yet the Killers targeted it anyway. Streaks of white light tore from their starships and blew the asteroid into a boiling storm of energy. The remaining mining craft pulled back and jumped out as one, escaping the juggernauts bearing down on them.

“I have completed my evacuation plan,” Gunn said, diffidently. “Sir, assuming that the current situation does not change, we will be unable to evacuate more than five million people from the main cluster before the Killers open fire.”

“That well?” Mandell asked. There were so many bottlenecks in getting people out onto the starships, let alone into space and away from the targeted asteroids, that he’d be surprised if they got half that many out. “Don’t hesitate. Start issuing the orders now and move them out as fast as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” the AI said.

“I’ve got Captain Jeff Zeitlin for you,” the communications officer said. “He wants a word with you.”

“Patch him through,” Mandell ordered. “Jeff. What can I do for you?”

“My squadron intends to attempt to delay them,” Zeitlin said, firmly. “We’ll buy you time to evacuate the cluster.”

Mandell shook his head. “I can’t allow that, Jeff,” he said, grimly. “You and your squadron will be destroyed, for nothing.”

“We have to try,” Zeitlin snapped back. “How can we stand by and watch as the Asimov System is torn apart? If we can delay them and win you even a handful more minutes, it would mean the difference between life and death for thousands of people. We have to try!”

“I know,” Mandell said. He ran one hand through his hair, tiredly. He felt as if he had aged a thousand years overnight. “Good luck.”

* * *

“We have to get out of here,” Captain Basil snapped. “You don’t understand!”

“And I’m telling you that we are waiting for the evacuees to board,” Private Ron Friedman replied, tiredly. The pair of Footsoldiers wore their full combat armour and carried their weapons in their hands, but both of them knew how tiny they were compared to the advancing Killer starships. The Killers wouldn’t be intimidated by the black armour… and their advance meant that it was losing its power to intimidate Basil and his family. “Please, sir; be patient.”

Basil glared at him. He was an overweight man in a galaxy where such conditions could be corrected easily; Friedman wasn’t sure if his refusal to do so was a result of religious conviction or simple laziness. It would be easy to sympathise with the man — the Family Farm was the only thing he had, apart from his family — but the Footsoldiers had their orders. No starship was leaving the asteroid cluster without a full complement of evacuees.

“And where,” Basil’s wife demanded, “are we going to put them? They’re going to mess up my nice clean ship!”

Friedman counted to ten under his breath. Basil’s wife was almost the polar opposite of her husband; she’d been through so many different cosmetic procedures that she looked almost stretched. She was inhumanly thin, almost a stick, without any sign of breasts or thighs. Friedman knew a moment of sympathy for Basil — in his place, he would have divorced the stupid cow without a second thought — but buried it quickly. The man was talking about abandoning women and children, after all, and there was little that was more reprehensible.

“You will be compensated for all damage,” he promised, although he wasn’t sure if that were actually true. The Community would do what it could, but even if Asimov was the only system under attack, resources would be stretched to breaking point. They might find themselves hunting desperately for a safe place to hide, let alone make repairs. “Your life support is rated suitable for fifty passengers in the main compartment. If we had the time, we would ditch your cargo and pressurise the holds to make room for more evacuees.”

He ignored Basil’s cry of pain. The Family Farm was carrying a thousand bottles of Rigel Brandy, among other such luxuries, and if Basil managed to sell it properly, it would bring him thousands of credits. The Community’s economy placed a high premium on real foodstuffs and the brandy should have set the family up for a very long time. Losing it to the Killers would be a serious blow, but they’d survive.

“And we definitely don’t have the time,” Basil said, looking over at the tiny display panel showing the live feed from System Command. The five Killer starships were still advancing on the main cluster, picking off smaller mining stations and settlements as they moved. It might have been a mistake to have that on the display, Friedman concluded. It wasn’t conductive to calm thinking. “If they get within two minutes of the asteroid, we’re out of here.”

“Please don’t,” Friedman said, calmly. “I would have to use deadly force to prevent you from abandoning the evacuees.”

“You can’t be that much of a robot,” the wife protested. “You’ll die too! You could come with us and be safe!”

“I know,” Friedman said. “I knew the risks when I took the job and…”

He broke off as a message came in from Gunn. “Our set of evacuees is coming towards us now,” he said. “Please open the hatch.”

Basil looked mutinous, perhaps resentful, but reluctantly complied. Normally, there would be safety fields all around the starship, preventing air from leaking out or any accidents from damaging other starships, but now all such precautions had been abandoned. Friedman linked into the hanger’s main processor and looked through the monitoring systems, spotting a large group of children advancing towards them, escorted by another pair of Footsoldiers.

“Children!” Basil’s wife snapped. “We didn’t bargain on children!”

Friedman said nothing as the first children entered the starship, to be shown to their positions. They weren’t all children, he realised suddenly; their ages ranged from five to eighteen, with a handful of older children providing supervision for the younger kids. A handful of them had defocused eyes, suggesting that they’d been pulled out of VR worlds and helped to join the evacuee groups.

“This is unacceptable,” Basil’s wife continued, eyeing one of the teenage girls. “This is totally…”

“Shut up or I will stun you,” Friedman snapped, silently glad of his armour. The two Footsoldiers would have to sleep in their suits until they reached safe harbour, but at least it would provide the ultimate sanction to their decisions. “If you can’t be civil, at least be tolerant long enough to get them somewhere safe and out of the line of fire.”

He watched though the armour as the final children boarded and the AI cleared them for departure. Basil leapt to power up the engines and lift the starship out of the hanger and down towards the exit. Friedman had never been so glad to see stars in his life, even through the suit kept him calm and focused. It was more than could be said for the children. The younger ones seemed to think that it was all a game, but the older ones knew what was happening… and that they might have left their families behind forever.

“Course laid in for safe harbour,” Basil said, as the starship emerged into open space. It was filled with hundreds of starships seeking escape, or in rare circumstances trying to land to pick up more evacuees. It seemed impossible that they wouldn’t succeed in evacuating the entire system, but Friedman knew the maths. They wouldn’t have a prayer of saving more than a handful of evacuees. “Jumping out… now!”

Behind them, the Killers opened fire.

Chapter Sixteen

Captain Jeff Zeitlin braced himself as the Firelight raced towards the Killer starship at speeds that would have been unimaginable before humanity encountered the Killers for the first time. Twelve destroyers could normally handle any merely human threat, but the Killers were simply too powerful for the entire Defence Force. Destroying even one of their ships would require a miracle; indeed, Zeitlin had seriously considered recommending that the Footsoldiers attempt a second boarding, this time with antimatter mines. The sheer ruthlessness the Killers had displayed as they advanced, blasting everything that might even remotely have proven a threat, suggested that it would have been futile. The destroyers were on their own.

The Zeitlin Family had given lives to the Defence Force before — the family history stretched all the way back to Old Earth and the national armed forces that had existed there — but none of them had perished in such hopeless battle. Zeitlin wondered about retreating, knowing that no one would blame him for deciding to leave the battlezone and preserving his ships for another day, but dismissed the idea before it had fully formed. If they could buy System Command a few more minutes to evacuate women and children from the main cluster, it was worthwhile. He refused to consider any other alternative.

“Load torpedo bays,” he ordered, calmly. Now that he had made his decision, a new sense of perfect calm descended over him. He was proud of his ship and crew. “Prepare to engage the enemy at extreme range.”

The squadron spread out, abandoning mutual support for the additional security provided by distance. Even a glancing blow from Killer weapons would destroy a human destroyer; their only safety lay in speed and randomness. The AIs were already computing completely random courses that would defeat the Killers ability to predict them — in theory. In practice, the Killers knew that the human ships would either have to come closer to them or do nothing beyond minor pinpricks. Once they opened fire, it would all be over very quickly.

“Weapons ready, sir,” his tactical officer said. “Entering firing range in one minute, seventeen seconds.”

The Killers were already firing, picking off tiny stations and remote sensor platforms. As Zeitlin watched, a freighter jumped into the area… and was picked off before its commander even knew that it was under attack. The senseless slaughter had an air of inevitability around it, as if the only thing delaying the Killers from finishing the job was the sheer number of possible targets. They didn’t seem to be discriminating between asteroid habitats and unmanned asteroids either; if it came into their sights, they blasted it. It would be a colossal waste of firepower for any human ship, yet the Killers seemed to have power to spare. They didn’t even seem to be enjoying themselves; calmly, methodically, they were taking the entire system apart.

“Open a link with Sparta,” he ordered, as they closed in for final approach. “I want them to see everything that happens to us.”

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said. “They’re getting full telemetry from all of our departments.”

Wonderful, the sardonic side of Zeitlin’s mind thought. They’ll see our deaths in great detail.

“Entering firing range now,” the tactical officer said. “I have weapons lock; I repeat, weapons lock.”

Zeitlin would have been more surprised if he hadn’t had a lock. The Killers didn’t seem to bother with any kind of ECM or stealth systems. Their starships emitted so much power that they were detectable at colossal ranges, even light years distant with gravimetric sensors. It suggested just how far the human race could rise if the Killers were defeated — after the Killers were defeated, his mind insisted — and just what they could become if there was no longer any need to hide. He’d seen plans for truly awesome Dyson Spheres or Orbital Rings that could be built — if only they didn’t attract the Killers. They could even colonise the thousands of empty worlds…

“Fire at will,” he ordered, calmly. “Helm; engage random evasive manoeuvres.”

The destroyer shuddered as it unleashed a full spread of warp missiles, closing the gap between the two ships at FTL speeds. The Killers would barely have had any time to react, yet it hardly mattered; the warp missiles slammed home and detonated against the impregnable hull. The Killers didn’t mount or use any form of point defence. Their armour was more than enough to deal with the Firelight’s entire armament. The battle was little more than a desperate gamble.

“The enemy is returning fire,” the tactical officer said, as white flashes of light began to flicker through space. The Killer weapons, whatever they were, only moved at near-light speeds, so they could be evaded, but a single direct hit would end his career. Zeitlin smiled inwardly; the battle would end his career anyway, no matter how it turned out. “They are also focusing on the civilian settlements as well.”

Murdering bastards, Zeitlin thought, angrily. He would shed no tears for pirates or rogue settlements, if they were caught and killed by the Defence Force, but the Killers were just slaughtering an entire civilian population. It seemed so senseless! He had hoped that the Killers would devote all their firepower to killing the destroyers, rather than the civilian craft, but it seemed otherwise. They had firepower to spare. Killing both at once seemed an easy task for them.

“Take us closer,” he ordered, angrily. They were already far too close for comfort, but he wanted to take his starship so close he could almost reach out and touch the alien hull. “Take us right between their fire!”

The Killers redoubled their efforts as the human starships slipped between their wall of battle, reminding him irresistibly of old-style naval combats, where two sides would slip between each other and fire in both directions. It hadn’t been a good idea on the water and it wasn’t a good idea in space; he hoped, desperately, that Killer weapons were effective against Killer hulls. If they hit each other in the crossfire…

“Negative,” the sensor officer reported. “I’ve observed seven red-on-red hits and there was no discernable damage.”

Zeitlin swore under his breath. A Defence Force CO who accidentally fired on another Defence Force ship would be certain to inflict damage, even with the best shields and armour humanity could produce. The Killers… could shoot at each other all day without inflicting any damage at all. It was an attribute the Defence Force would want to copy, but he just found it annoying. The universe wasn’t giving them a break.

The starship shuddered as a nearby explosion marked the death of one of her fellows. Zeitlin checked the feed from the remainder of the squadron and saw the five of the squadron had been picked off, four to enemy fire. The fifth had accidentally — or maybe it had been on purpose — rammed a Killer ship and vanished in a colossal explosion. If the Killer had been damaged, even slightly, there was no trace of it, apart from massive fluctuations in its power grid. It was still firing and proceeding right towards the main cluster… and millions more still waited to be evacuated.

He looked down at the feed from System Command and felt resolution crystallise in his heart. There were hundreds of starships flying away from the system, either jumping out with Anderson Drive or retreating with more mundane warp drive, but it wasn’t enough. Their best efforts hadn’t delayed the enemy at all. They needed something more…

“Engineering,” he said, keying his console, “can you remove the safety interlocks from the warp drive.”

“Aye, Captain,” the engineer said, “but the engines won’t take the strain for long.”

“It won’t have to carry the strain for more than a few seconds,” Zeitlin said, grimly. Another flash of light marked the loss of another starship; a second ran at the enemy hull, firing all the way, until a burst of white light blew it into flaming plasma. “We’re going to try something utterly insane.”

The engineer sounded horrified. “A Cochrane Twist?”

“Yes,” Zeitlin confirmed. “Remove the safety interlocks from the warp drive, now.”

There was a pause. “Done, sir,” the engineer said. “Captain…”

Zeitlin ignored him. “Helm, set course right for the heart of the Killer starship and engage warp drive on my command,” he ordered. “Tactical; hold fire.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said. There wasn’t even a quaver in his voice. “We’re locked, sir.”

Zeitlin took a breath. “Engage!”

The warp drive, in layman’s terms, wrapped the starship in a bubble that allowed it to exceed the speed of light, by discontenting part of the starship from the universe. It was quite possible for the starship to literally pass through an asteroid without noticing the experience, although anything the size of a planet influenced the local gravity field too much to allow the presence of a warp bubble. The Cochrane Twist — in theory — should have forced the Firelight and the Killer starship to interpenetrate. It wasn’t considered a reliable tactic because at warp speed, the starship might return to normal space thousands of kilometres from its intended destination, or the Killer drive field might interfere with the warp bubble. There was no way to know until it was tried…

The universe flared white and vanished.

* * *

“Jesus fucking Christ,” someone breathed. Mandell didn’t know who. “It went up like a supernova.”

“Secure all stations,” Mandell barked. “Brace for impact.”

The mighty Killer starship had vanished in an ear-tearing burst of white light as the two starships interpenetrated, defying the natural law of the universe that decreed that two objects couldn’t share the same space at the same time. The remaining four Killer starships seemed stunned — they’d come to their impossible dead stop — and, for once, it looked as if they were hesitating… and then they opened fire again. The two remaining Defence Force starships were picked off before they had a chance to repeat their commander’s success.

He caught his command chair as the shockwave struck the asteroid, shaking it violently. He imagined that he could hear the sound of panic raging through the asteroid as neat queues of evacuees were sent sprawling by the shock, convinced that the Killers had already begun their bombardment. Bright red icons flared up on the display, warning of minor and major damage to the asteroid and its defences, but he ignored them. They were the least of his worries. There was no point in attempting to repair anything when the Killers would complete the asteroid’s destruction soon enough.

“Get a complete copy of our logs out to Sparta,” he ordered, as the asteroid returned to normal. The blast had blinded most of his sensor arrays, even the hardened ones designed to operate in any environment. The remainder were showing signs of wear and tear themselves. It was lucky that there were reserve remote platforms that could be launched into space quickly, or they would have been effectively blind, unable to track the Killer starships. The gravimetric sensors hadn’t been ruined — they were designed to track other sources of energy — but they wouldn’t be able to watch for incoming fire. “They need to know what happened here.”

If someone is insane enough to turn it into a viable combat tactic, his mind added, silently. It might just work… once, but it would be comparatively simple, with their knowledge of gravity technology, for the Killers to prevent it from happening again. All they would need to do would be to wrap a gravity field around their craft and any warp bubble would collapse before it could interpenetrate.

“Aye, sir,” the communications officer said. “They’ve got a complete download now.”

Gunn broke in with his customary disregard for human conversations. “We have riots in four hanger bays and panic on all levels,” he said, sharply. “The Footsoldiers and Police Units are requesting orders.”

Mandell scowled. The Community was generally law-abiding, a reflection of how much wealth the human race had under normal circumstances, yet if the social order broke down under the stress, he didn’t have enough units to keep the peace. It wouldn’t matter soon enough anyway, but Asimov had been too quiet and peaceful too long. They’d forgotten the old tradition of ‘women and children first.’

“Inform them that they are cleared to stun and, if necessary, use lethal force,” he ordered, finally. Privately owned weapons were rare in the Community, although there was no actual law against gun ownership; the Footsoldiers shouldn’t have any trouble handling rioters, although some of the rioters might get injured. Bare hands against powered combat armour was a recipe for bloody disaster. “Gunn, how is the evacuation proceeding?”

“We have two million and counting people in starships and heading out of the system,” the AI said. “However, the current panic and chaos is rendering it impossible to continue filling up starships efficiently. Worse, several Footsoldiers have had to be pulled off starships to help disperse riots, allowing the starship crews to escape without taking on their fair share of evacuees. Recalculating; we may be unable to evacuate more than three million at most from the main cluster.”

There was a pause. “I recommend deploying the remaining starships to the other clusters,” Gunn added. “I do not believe that we will be able to pull many more civilians out of this system before the Killers arrive.”

Mandell looked down at the display. The Killers were still making their approach, only four minutes away from entering range. They were blasting everything in their path, even uninhabited asteroids. It seemed like an exercise in wanton destruction to him, maybe even pointless spite, unless they couldn’t tell the difference between a manned asteroid and one that had barely been touched. Asimov’s asteroids were supposed to be impossible to detect, but the Killers — once again — had done the impossible.

Or maybe they just tracked our starships here, or maybe they captured a database, or maybe… he shook his head angrily. It didn’t matter any longer. The hulking starships would complete their task and billions of humans would die.

“See to it,” he ordered, quietly, knowing that he was condemning the remaining population of the asteroid to death. “Bring all the defence systems online and prepare to engage.”

The Killer starships glided into the main cluster and pounded the asteroids with their strange weapons. The weapons didn’t need more than a pair of hits to shatter an asteroid, if that. The complete matter-energy conversion of even a small fraction of a spinning asteroid was enough to blow one apart. Distress messages flared up in his virtual display as asteroid settlements died and humans perished, but he tuned them out helplessly. There was no point any longer. Even if the Killers ignored the escaping lifepods, the escapees would be caught in massive radiation storms, beyond even the ability of their internal nanites to protect them. Their deaths would be slow and lingering unless the Community got help to Asimov in time to save them.

“Opening fire,” the tactical officer said. Lasers, fission beams, fusion beams and energy torpedoes flared out, smashing furiously against the Killer starships — for nothing. The Killers didn’t even bother to return fire against the remote weapons platforms; they merely kept firing on the habitats, completing their task. Mandell imagined, as another asteroid tore itself apart, that he could hear the screams, smell the burning flesh. “Sir…”

“Leave the channels open,” Mandell said. The entire Community would know what had happened to Asimov. “I don’t suppose it matters any longer.”

An energy spike ran through the closest Killer starship. A moment later, a pulse of energy leapt from the Killer ship to the asteroid, striking the hanger bay. The entire asteroid shook as massive explosions ripped the hanger bay apart, completely defeating the best efforts of the safety systems. The asteroids air started to blow out as it tumbled through space, the spin ripping it apart and completing the destruction. Mandell caught on to his command chair as the consoles exploded and the power failed, before a final rumbling series of explosions swept him away into darkness.

* * *

“We need to get out of here,” Captain Basil said, frantically. The Family Farm should have been unnoticeable — they were millions of kilometres from the Killer ships — but his panic was almost contagious. The children down in the cabins were already picking up on it. “You, robot, we need to get out of here!”

“Not yet,” Ron Friedman said. “Watch.”

The Killers had blown the main cluster apart. Even with passive sensors alone, it was easy to track the path of destruction, and bear silent witness to the emergency signals and distress calls emitting from hundreds of lifepods. The Killers ignored them, proceeding onwards to exterminate the remainder of the human presence in the system, seeking out new targets as they moved. No, Friedman realised; it was worse than that. They were picking off any asteroid within range, manned or unnamed. It made no sense to him.

“All right,” Basil snapped. “We’ve seen. Now we have to get out of here before they come after us.”

“They’re not going to care about one tiny starship that probably failed its flightworthiness checks,” Friedman snapped, angrily. He just wanted to see — and remember — what the Killers were doing to his home system. The human race had one of their starships now. Given time, he was sure that they could duplicate everything the Killers had… and then there would be a reckoning. “We wait!”

An hour passed slowly as the Killers proceeded, but they ignored the Family Farm, and the remaining starships in the system, unless they came too close. Friedman tracked the deaths of several starships, recording them all in his suit’s memory cells. Someone had to know what had happened to them in the future, even if it put himself and the rest of the crew and passengers at risk. Finally, he’d seen enough.

“Very well,” he said, with the air of one making a great concession. “Get us out of here.”

Chapter Seventeen

Chiyo Prime — as she had started to think of herself — floated within an endless sea of energy. It had been easy to create a personal environment for herself — she’d moved on from the illusion of her own room to creating entire apartment complexes — but she had realised that it would be dangerous in the long run. She couldn’t afford to start thinking of herself as safe, or immortal; if the Killer mind realised that she was there, the Killer would attempt to… well, kill her. Chiyo had no way of knowing if the Killer had AI assistants that could purge the network of unwanted human personalities, but she found it hard to imagine any computer network that didn’t have at least some protection. A human system would have, at least, a semi-sentient antiviral defence system — the mere existence of other humans would have guaranteed that, or defeat.

Did the Killers wage war on each other? It was so hard to read the endless stream of data running to and from the Killer mind, but she suspected that they probably advanced through conflict, just as humans had advanced before the Killers had arrived at Earth. Even after the Earth had been destroyed, the human race had continued to fight one another, as well as trying desperately to build a workable defence. The Community hadn’t been able to keep much of a dampener on it; indeed, half of the Defence Force was more experienced at fighting fellow humans than the Killers.

Yet humans were ingenious foes, she knew. A human tactician would struggle to overcome the opponent’s advantages and turn their own advantages into war-winning tactics. A human military force that didn’t advance, or advanced in the wrong direction, would lose eventually, whatever it had started with — human history was full of examples of a military force that had remained behind the times too long. A force that failed to adept to new realities was one that wouldn’t remain in existence for much longer.

The Killers, by contrast, hadn’t shown any real improvement in their technology ever since they had been rediscovered, two hundred years after Earth had been destroyed. Their formidable weapons remained the same, their equally-formidable starships hadn’t been improved or redesigned and their tactics remained as direct as ever. They had never shown any hint of understanding subtle tactics, or diversions, or even the value of intelligence. They came, they saw and they destroyed. If humans had possessed equal technology to the Killers, Chiyo was sure, the Killers would have been rapidly and completely exterminated. They might have lost the ability to adapt completely.

She extended her mind carefully into the main data stream — as she had termed it — and listened to the Killer whispers at the edge of her awareness. It was barely possible to understand the whispers she could hear perfectly, yet nothing quite seemed to make sense. It was like being trapped in a nightmare, an unwanted guest in a haunted house, never quite knowing when the ghosts would stop being holograms and turn into real threats. The MassMind would probably have been able to analyse the entire system within seconds, but Chiyo was only human — even if she only existed as a personality within an alien system. There were limits to how far she could extend her mind, even with the aid of her duplicates. There were now hundreds of Chiyo-duplicates running through the system — an act that would have ensured her prosecution if she had carried it out in the Community — but they were all still her. They lacked a different perspective from Chiyo Prime.

I should have studied that textbook on alien systems, she thought, silently cursing the recording implant under her breath — or what passed for breath inside the alien network. The Community had studied hundreds of dead alien societies and cracked their languages — although researchers kept asking awkward questions about how successful the effort had been in the absence of any actual aliens to talk to, apart from the Killers — but Chiyo had never studied any of their work. She’d had the files in her memory implant — if she’d been in a physical body, she would have access to them within microseconds — but she hadn’t even glanced at them, which would have ensured that they would have been in her memory and recorded as part of her personality. It might not have been as useful as she thought — if the Killers really were from a gas giant, instead of a rocky world, they would have little in common with humanity — but it would have been reassuring. Three of her duplicates were already searching for her physical body, hoping that the Killer had kept it intact, but Chiyo doubted that the Killer had bothered. Why should it have?

Another wave of energy swept through the starship and Chiyo allowed her awareness to follow it, becoming aware of powerful waves of energy materialising within the starship’s power cells. The Killer was preparing for something, she realised, and extended her mind further, trying to understand why it was building up such a reserve of energy. She found herself looking out through the Killer’s sensors onto the cold darkness of interstellar space, before a funnel of light shimmered into existence in front of the starship. It took her barely a second to realise that it was a wormhole before the Killer starship advanced and slid into the singularity, the power curves altering and fading away as the wormhole started to draw power from the quantum undertow. The wormhole was, once started, a genuine perpetual motion machine.

Clever, Chiyo decided, as the wormhole stretched on to infinity. No one in the Defence Force had any idea just how quickly the Killers could move in their wormholes, but Chiyo had the impression that the starship was actually picking up speed as it plunged onwards. In the MassMind, there would be referents she could use to calculate speed and time, but inside the alien system, all of the referents would be alien. She didn’t even know how long it had been since she had been absorbed into the alien system; it could have been seconds, or years. There was no way to know.

The wormhole terminated in another wave of brilliant light, leaving the starship floating onwards, gliding towards a star. She was suddenly shockingly aware of the presence of new sources of gravity energy — the star, nine planets and thousands of asteroids — and realised that the Killer was carefully taking stock of its new location. Humanity used gravimetric sensors itself, but the Killer sensors were far superior; it was quite possible that the Killers would be able to detect starships that were completely powered down. If that were the case, it was her duty to warn the defence force before all hell broke loose… but how? She was trapped within the alien system.

A wash of motion passed over the Killer ship as she peeked through the sensor blisters, just in time to see the starship’s destination, right ahead of her. She had hoped that the Killers were visiting one of the star systems they were redeveloping — and the Defence Force had declared off-limits to human investigators, apart from spy probes — but there was no mistaking their target. Up ahead, there were over a hundred settled asteroids, Community asteroids…

And the Killers had come to call.

* * *

“Get everyone to the escape craft, now,” Mother Jan snapped, as the shape of the Killer starship grew larger on the display. “Women and children first; men last. Get the automated defence pods up and ready to deploy, but don’t bother with the manned defence ships. Just get them out of here!”

“But Mother,” Harold protested. He was not only her youngest son — which earned him nothing on an asteroid settlement — but also the leader of the local defence unit. “Mother, we could make a stand…”

“And get blasted to atoms without accomplishing anything,” Jan snarled. Harold, in her view, lacked the virtues of his late lamented father; he was brave, loyal and determined, but was far from rational. There was no point in making a stand against the Killers, not unless someone invented a new weapon that would stop even them. She wouldn’t have hesitated to send Harold and his men against human opponents, even spend them ruthlessly if there were no other choice, but the Killers were something different. The only thing the Rockrat community could do was evacuate the entire settlement and try not to leave anyone behind. “Men! Get down to the evacuation centre and coordinate the evac, now!”

Harold left, recognising the tone that promised harsh punishment if he dared to offer any further disagreement. Jan wasn’t just his and his family’s mother; she was the elected Mother of the entire settlement and the leader of over a thousand human souls. The tiny settlement, like most asteroid settlements, was run by women and Jan was known to be the most cunning, ruthless and far-seeing of all the women on the settlement. In an environment where men went out to mine, or to fight, women held the line at home — and, with it, most of the political power. Jan had never enjoyed the job — it wasn’t meant to be an enjoyable job — but now she felt helpless. By long tradition, a Mother’s word was law, but the Killers wouldn’t heed her words. They would smash through the defences and crush her people without even noticing the effort.

“Motherless bastards,” she said, when she was alone. The Command Centre was normally only manned by a handful of women; now, she was alone, apart from the ever-present AI. It was a limited model — the founder of the settlement hadn’t been comfortable with AIs that had too much freedom of action — but more than capable of handling anything that might be required, until now. “Report.”

“All freighters are being loaded now with evacuees,” the AI said, calmly. Jan was tempted to disconnect the conversational overlays, which kept the AI sounding like a human, provided that it wasn’t pushed, but there was no point. Alone, she could pretend that the AI was as human as she was, or the rest of her people. They wouldn’t be her people much longer. Even if they found safety somewhere else, the community would be broken and scattered among the stars. “The first freighter is leaving the docking bay now.”

Jan clenched her teeth as the freighter lumbered away and, with a flash, vanished into warp drive. The settlement hadn’t been able to afford Anderson Drive starships and that meant that if the Killers decided to give chase, the evacuees would probably be chased down and killed. They generally ignored human starships unless they were actively engaging the Killer ships, but she suspected that this time it would be different. The Defence Force hadn’t hurt the Killers until they’d actually managed to capture a Killer starship. The Killers were probably furious, maybe even out for revenge. Who knew how they thought?

“Good,” she said. It was tempting to call down to the docking bay and order Harold to hurry up, but she knew better than to pester anyone, even her son. Harold might be a man, but he had the ability to handle the task and pestering him would only delay the loading. “How long until they enter firing range?”

“The Killer starship will enter firing range in seven minutes,” the AI informed her. “They will enter range of our automated missile batteries in three minutes.”

“And won’t stop even when we open fire,” Jan muttered. “Can we hurt them? Hell, no.”

The AI didn’t recognise that it was a rhetorical question. “The defence data from the Defence Force suggests that the detonation of Type-Nine warheads against Killer hull material, which is of unknown composition, will not inflict even minimal damage,” it informed her. Jan had known that from the start. The defences were intended for human pirates, not Killers and their invincible starships. “The Killers may not even bother to respond.”

“Maybe they will,” Jan said, slowly. “Can you rewrite their firing patterns? Have each platform engage individually?”

“Yes,” the AI said, “but Defence Force protocols warn that if we do not engage collectively…”

“Override,” Jan said, shortly. “I want one platform firing at a time. When that platform is destroyed, or shot dry, I want the next platform to engage.”

“Understood,” the AI said. “Command protocols are being rewritten. Command protocols have been rewritten.”

“Good,” Jan said, looking down at the update from the docking bay. Nine more starships were underway, fleeing onwards towards the Community, as if there was safety anywhere. The entire Defence Force couldn’t stop one Killer starship. “You may fire the first platform when the Killers come into range.”

“Acknowledged,” the AI said. There was a pause. “You may wish to leave the command centre and proceed to the docking bay. There are only three more starships still accepting evacuees.”

“I’m bred out,” Jan said, relaxing. There was no way that she was going to abandon the remaining settlers to die alone. Her place was in the command centre. “Don’t let them call me. Just clear them to depart without me.”

The AI didn’t argue.

* * *

Chiyo felt like screaming as the human settlement drew closer, illuminated by the ghostly gravity waves that emitted from the Killer starship and echoed back from the asteroids. The Killer mind was coldly and precisely picking out the inhabited asteroids, designating them for attention, one after the other. Chiyo guessed — she had to keep herself thinking, just to avoid falling into panic or despair — that the Killers used vast neutrino fields as well. It was a worrying thought. There were hundreds of hidden settlements, designed to be safe from the Killers, that were anything, but.

The first missile caught her by surprise; a flare of light that appeared out of nowhere, slammed into the Killer starship and detonated, without even shaking the starship. The Killer mind wasn’t remotely concerned as missile after missile materialised out of nowhere and struck the ship, leaving the business of destroying the launcher to automated systems. A pulse of white light flared out of the Killer starship and wiped the launcher out of existence, but another launcher opened fire, continuing the ineffective bombardment. Chiyo frowned; the tactic made no sense, yet it was irritating the Killer mind. It seemed to concentrate, and then open fire with ruthless abandon, wiping hundreds of tiny human constructions out of space, along with dozens of innocent asteroids.

It can’t see the launchers, she realised, in disbelief. She had realised that something was odd about the way the Killer was reacting to the human attack, but it hadn’t occurred to her that the Killer couldn’t see what was launching the attack, even though it had been easy to deduce it’s location. It was bizarre; there was no way that a human starship would have missed it, unless it was a stealthed platform. The thought excited her, for it proved that there were chinks in the Killers and their armour, but it worried her at the same time. Why couldn’t the Killers see them?

The thought kept nagging at her as the Killer starship finally battered its way through the defences and closed in rapidly on the core asteroid. A human opponent would have tried to take the asteroid and its equipment intact — the Rockrats had fought hundreds of bitter Rock Wars over asteroid settlements — but the Killers had no need of human resources. Chiyo watched, unable to look away, as the first white ball of light struck home and the asteroid disintegrated. The asteroid hadn’t bothered with artificial gravity, relying instead on spin to create gravity and that spin was now tearing it apart. The detonation alone would have rendered the asteroid uninhabitable, but the spin completed the destruction, leaving the Killer starship free to move on to the next target. The starship ignored the human ships as they slipped away into interstellar space…

Chiyo couldn’t watch any longer and fled back down into the core of the Killer system, watching the cold dispassionate rage of the Killer mind as it completed the task of destroying any trace of human existence in the system. There was no sense of pleasure, or glee, or even sadism, just the awareness that the task had to be completed as quickly and decisively as possible. It fitted in with how the Killers had handled Earth and the other worlds they’d destroyed over millions of years; they hadn’t just wiped out the intelligent races despoiling their homeworlds, but they’d rendered the worlds completely uninhabitable. A limited amount of radiation was a requirement for rapid evolution, but after the Killers had finished, Earth had become so radioactive that even the cockroaches hadn’t survived. Nothing lived there now, apart from a handful of human researchers under very heavy protection, and nothing would ever evolve there again.

Chiyo had read, once, a theory that life moved from star to star as spores drifting in space, rather than being carried on starships. If that were true — and no one had proven it in a thousand years of space exploration — it might explain why the Killers used massive overkill on their targets, but why would they believe that? It made much more sense, to her, that the Killers were not only wiping out present threats — however laughable — but also all possibility of future threats from their target worlds. It was possible they didn’t understand humanoids at all… hell, they might even believe that humans, and the Ghosts, and the countless other races that had encountered the Killers and hadn’t survived the experience were the same!

She pushed that thought aside as the wormhole opened up again and the Killer starship vanished from the universe. Whatever happened to her personality, she had to let the Community know what she’d discovered, before it was too late. The Killers were hunting humanity down like rats.

And if they kept hitting asteroid settlements, they’d break the Community into a million isolated settlements that could be wiped out, one by one, and the human race along with them. It would be the final end.

Chapter Eighteen

Charlie Reynolds scowled as she knelt down under the Good Bush and started to pick the berries. There would be a good crop of berries this year if the sun kept shining down on New Hope, but the fifteen-year-old girl wasn’t enthusiastic at all. Picking the berries was hard work and then they had to be mashed, boiled and then stored for several weeks before they were even remotely good to eat. There were men and women on New Hope who had expired ahead of their time from eating Good Fruit berries, but what else could they eat? There were so few things on New Hope that humans could eat safely at all.

The Elders swore that God would provide, as He had provided before, but the younger men and women suspected otherwise. The Elders had come down from the stars to create New Hope — a colony where the sinfulness of the human race would be redeemed, sparing them the destruction that had swept billions of humans away in a massive flood — and insisted, firmly, that hard work and prayer would turn New Hope into a paradise. Charlie agreed with the others of her generation; the more they worked New Hope’s soil, the smaller the amount of yield. Charlie didn’t know much arithmetic — maths was no proper skill for a girl, said the Elders, or a young man — but it seemed obvious to her that the end result would be starvation and death. No amount of grovelling in front of an altar the Elders had placed in the centre of the village would change that. Charlie was the fifth child of her parents, the first to survive to maturity, and the great hope of her parents. There were times when she wondered, keeping the thought privately to herself, if New Hope was not God’s Chosen, but God’s Enemies. Nothing else seemed to explain why they could barely grow food in seemingly-fertile soil.

But another kind of fertility occupied her thoughts, distracting her so that she pricked herself on one of the thorns. Inquisitor Johan had asked her parents for her hand in marriage — and you didn’t say no to the Inquisitors, or share your secret thoughts with them, not if you valued your life. The Inquisitors had burned her old teacher only seven months ago for daring to suggest to the children that there were truths beyond that which the Elders knew — and he had been an Elder himself! The Elders might live longer than the younger generation, but Charlie had thought that that was far too harsh — although she hadn’t dared say that aloud. The Inquisitors wouldn’t have hesitated to burn her as well, along with her family. No, there was no doubt; her parents would tell her officially, soon enough, that she was to be Johan’s bride, and that would be the end of it. She would marry him, he would take her to his bed, and…

She wasn’t quite sure of what would happen next, but she doubted that it would be pleasant. The girls of the village whispered to one another of what some of the men were like, and Johan was one of the worst. His position made him unquestionable and, as the food supplies fell further, he had turned into a threatening bully. No one dared question him and few dared remain alone with him, male or female. He was the most feared person in the village. Her parents wouldn’t even dare ask for a heavy dowry for her, even though Johan could have paid with ease.

If I’d been born a man… she thought, but it was wishful thinking. The younger generation of men had slightly more freedom than the women, but they would die too when the food supplies ran out, or perhaps in fights when they couldn’t get married. The young women were all being married off to the Elders, or their servants, those who had the influence or power to demand whatever they wanted. Charlie knew that she might even be one of the lucky ones; Johan, at least, was young and wealthy. She knew girls who had barely passed their first blood before being married off to Elders who were ancient. Her parents had made no secret of the fact they had wanted a son… but their two sons had all died in infancy. It just wasn’t fair.

She stamped her foot impatiently and stood up, looking back towards her parent’s cottage. Being late, even now, would have drawn harsh punishment from her father, but being outside, even in the garden, was the only time when she felt free. It was just an illusion — she cast a wistful look towards the muddy track leading out of the village, towards other villages she’d never seen and never would — but it was all she had. She turned, picking up the basket, and then she saw the flash of light in the sky,

The Elders swore that there was nothing beyond the blue-black sky of New Hope, and that the points of light in the darkness were nothing more than God’s decorations, but she could see that there was something coming closer and closer to the village. It looked like a falling star, drifting off to the left as she watched, as if it was going to come down somewhere beyond the mountains. They dominated the horizon and added to the sense of being hemmed in, although some of the young men had once set off to climb them — and never returned. The spark of light came down… and the entire horizon lit up with a blinding flash of light. A moment later, the shockwave picked her up and threw her right over the village. She had a bare moment to realise that she’d escaped Johan, her parents and life itself, before the wave of energy wiped her out of existence.

* * *

“They haven’t replied to our messages, sir,” Ensign John Wagner said, from the communications station on the bridge. “They’re completely defenceless.”

Captain Andrew Ramage nodded bitterly. The Lightning had been on a training mission since the attack wing had been decimated by the Killers, a fancy way of saying that the surviving starships would probably be assigned to new attack wings, once more starships rolled out of the fabricators. If nothing else, the successful capture of the Killer starship had encouraged tens of thousands more to sign up with the Defence Force, which was now having problems absorbing all the excess manpower. They’d been on a routine pass ten light years from New Hope when they’d detected the Killer wormhole and Andrew had ordered an intercept course. They’d reached the New Hope system in time to see the Killer starship on final approach to the planet… and charging weapons.

“They don’t have any defences anyway,” Andrew said, grimly. It hadn’t taken a moment to review the information on New Hope… and what he’d found appalled him. New Hope had been founded by colonists who had believed that the Killers were God’s punishment on a sinful humanity and that, if they avoided technology and prayed heavily, the Killers would leave them alone to build their paradise. It was obvious now that they’d been disastrously wrong. The Killer starship closing in on the planet was ample proof of that. “They’re completely pre-technical. They don’t even have matchlocks or cannons.”

He felt his teeth clench. The Community had watched New Hope and concluded that the colonists had managed to create a hell for themselves, rather than a paradise, but there had been no grounds to interfere. The Community didn’t have the legal right to intervene even when human rights were being shredded by other humans and an attempt to do so would have started a civil war. Very few humans would have tolerated New Hope willingly, but the precedent would have worried at least two-thirds of the Community. Who cared about New Hope when the entire Community was at stake?

The reports had concluded that the Elders of New Hope had, accidentally or deliberately, removed most of the genetically engineered modifications that their children would have otherwise inherited. New Hope wasn’t that habitable, but Andrew could have survived there indefinitely, relying on his modified body to handle the poisonous plants and animals. A baseline human from Old Earth would have suffered from all kinds of deficiencies… assuming, of course, that they didn’t eat anything lethal and die before they realised the error. The Elders had also deliberately lost most modern medical techniques, even techniques and medicines that had been developed a long time before humans had stopped believing that the Sun went round the Earth. It was disgusting, to Andrew’s mind, but they were still human. They didn’t deserve to die…

“The Killers are opening fire,” Lieutenant Gary Young reported. The tactical officer put up the main display without even being asked. Andrew watched in far too much detail as streaks of white light lanced out of the Killer starship and struck the planet, devastating the entire biosphere. Anyone lucky enough to survive the first blast — which had come down on top of the largest city on the planet — would soon wish that they had died with the others. It wouldn’t be long before their wish was granted. “They’re just… hammering the planet at random.”

“They don’t have to be subtle, Lieutenant,” Andrew reminded him. “Helm, keep us at a safe distance and prepare to trigger the Anderson Drive if they come at us.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant David Dunagin said. “I have a course laid in and ready.”

John Wagner was young, too young. “Sir,” he protested, “shouldn’t we be doing something?”

The desperation in his voice convinced Andrew not to snap at him. “There’s nothing we can do, Ensign,” Andrew said, seriously. If the report of a single Killer starship being destroyed was accurate — and the MassMind hadn’t passed on more than vague details — it might be possible to intervene, but how? If the Lightning attacked, the Killers would either ignore them or open fire… and keep firing until they picked off the gnat that had dared to confront them. “All we can do is watch, and bear witness to the fall of New Hope.”

The Killer weapons couldn’t — thankfully — convert the entire mass of the planet into energy. If they had, the result would have been a small supernova, but the devastation they caused was quite enough to exterminate any life on the surface. A single hit would probably have wiped out all of the human settlers, yet they kept firing until the planet was rendered lifeless. The massive clouds of radiation, the dust in the atmosphere, the shockwaves that would have knocked down any human construction… all ensured that the planet was thoroughly dead. The Killer starship halted its firing pattern and waited, for what? Andrew frowned. Normally, the Killers arrived, destroyed, and vanished again. Were they waiting for someone to meet with them?

“Hold us here,” he ordered, watching the Killer starship carefully. If it had sensors equal to human technology, it shouldn’t be able to detect the Lightning, but Andrew had assumed from the start that the Killer knew exactly where they were. “John, dispatch an updated warning to Sparta and inform them that we are… observing the target.”

He heard John’s sniff and considered calling him on it, but there was little point. He wanted, desperately, to engage and destroy the Killer starship, but how? The most they could do was distract it, if that, and only then if the Killer took the bait. There was no point any longer anyway; even if they had had a Killer-killing weapon — the thought made him smile grimly to himself — New Hope would have been destroyed anyway. The Killers had wiped out the entire planet’s population. The explosions were detectable even at several AUs distant and no one, not even someone using the latest Community technology, would have survived.

“Captain,” the AI murmured in his ear, “I have the latest update from the MassMind. Do you wish to review it?”

“Snap me out if anything changes,” Andrew ordered. “Show me.”

The update unfolded rapidly in his brain, a direct information download. The Killers had retaliated for the capture mission, on a scale that defied belief. A hundred settlements, including several dozen that everyone had believed were beyond detection, had been destroyed, with billions of fatalities. A hundred Defence Force starships had been destroyed, directly or indirectly, while over fifty civilian ships had been picked off while they tried to evacuate people from the settlements. It didn’t look as if the Killers had intended to massacre fleeing civilians — they could have killed millions more if they had been so inclined — but it hardly mattered. The devastation had been shattering. Merely accommodating the refugees would stretch the remaining settlements to the limits.

On one scale, the attacks had been tiny, a drop in the literally millions of hidden settlements and human outposts scattered across the entire galaxy. The Community numbered in the trillions, after all, even if they didn’t count the ships that had headed right outside the galaxy, either to the Clouds or further beyond. On the other, it was just another reminder of the sheer power the Killers possessed… and those other settlements might not remain safe indefinitely. If the Killers maintained their attacks, the other settlements might be destroyed as well, leaving the human race scattered across the galaxy, doomed to die out, like the Ghosts and countless others. Andrew stared into the face of the future, a truth that the Elders of New Hope had sought to escape, and shivered. There was no escaping reality.

And yet… a single Killer starship had been destroyed.

Andrew reviewed the download, such as it was, and cursed. Cochrane Twists were rare, even when the enemy was cooperating; the sheer speed of the warp drive ensured that starships rarely interpenetrated and destroyed each other. The tactic had actually been designed for warp missiles — which were generally fired at other targets moving at FTL speeds — yet even warp missiles, which were expendable by definition, couldn’t guarantee an interpenetration event. It was easy to tune a low-level warp field to prevent interpenetration and that, the Defence Force had assumed, had been what the Killers had done. God alone knew that they had all kinds of technology that humans could barely imagine, let alone duplicate. Why shouldn’t they have warp drive as well?

Apart from the fact that they don’t have warp fields when they move at FTL, or even a warp signature, he reminded himself. No warp field; no warp drive.

He shook his head and came out of the download, feeling his skull ache slightly as he opened his eyes. Direct memory downloads always gave him a bit of a headache, but there was no choice. The Technical Faction claimed that, one day, humans would be so perfectly integrated with their mechanical servants that direct memory downloads — and much else — would become as easy as taking a walk, or swallowing a pill. It would be yet another modification of the baseline human form, one that the Elders of New Hope would have hated, but was it necessary? Every generation, Andrew had discovered, questioned just how much more modification was actually required. It was sometimes disturbing to realise how far they’d come from the basic human form.

“No change, sir,” Gary said. The tactical officer sounded concerned, with good reason. “They’re just holding position and waiting for something.”

Andrew tapped into the AI and studied the Killer starship directly. It was a standard Iceberg — if there were internal differences, they were beyond the ability of his sensors to detect — and should have had enough firepower to deal with the remainder of the system with ease. There was actually little in the system to attract its attention; there were no asteroid settlements, as far as Andrew knew, or anything else, apart from New Hope. The Elders had chosen New Hope precisely because it was completely isolated, with no technology to attract the Killers. Their precautions had failed spectacularly.

“Give me a low-level scan of the surrounding system,” Andrew ordered, finally. “I want to know if there’s someone out there waiting for them.”

There was a pause. An active scan, even a low-level one, would almost certainly betray their presence — assuming, of course, that they weren’t already under Killer observation. Andrew smiled suddenly, remembering something his father had told him when he’d visited the asteroid settlement’s fish farms; they’re as afraid of you, son, as you are of them. The thought was ridiculous — the Killers had little reason to be scared of the Lightning — yet it refused to fade. In all their history, had the Killers only lost two starships? Were they actually scared of him?

“I’m picking up nothing apart from a handful of fading ion trails,” Gary reported, finally. “If there’s anything else, it’s too well-hidden for low-power scans to detect.”

Andrew nodded. Ion trails meant warp-capable starships, which probably meant smugglers. Had that been what had attracted the Killers? The Defence Force could track warp signatures at over a hundred light years distant — could the Killers do the same?

An alarm sounded suddenly. “Power surge,” Gary snapped, as Andrew came to full attention, using his implants to snap himself into full awareness. Tiredness was never a problem on a Defence Force starship, but like all things, it had to be paid for eventually. “The Killers are opening a wormhole…”

Before he had finished, the wormhole had already expanded, swallowed the Killer starship, and faded away into nothingness.

“Stand down from battlestations,” Andrew ordered, finally. The Killers might not have had the Anderson Drive, but wormholes allowed them the same degree of strategic mobility as a Defence Force starship. “Helm, set course for Sparta.”

He looked down at the display as the starship’s main drive powered up, preparing to hurl them tens of thousands of light years to Sparta, and — hopefully — new orders.

“Now tell me,” he said, softly. “What the hell was all that about?”

Behind them, a planet burned.

Chapter Nineteen

Sanctuary was the heart of the Community — insofar as the Community had a heart — and the President’s official residence. Like most of the Community settlements, it was based around a cluster of asteroids that housed over a million human beings — as well as countless MassMind personalities — but there the difference ended. Unlike most settlements, which tended to be self-supporting communities in their own right, Sanctuary mainly housed the political civil servants who made the Community work. It wasn’t intended to be a long-term settlement, even though it had existed for over seven hundred years; the Community preferred to keep its political class under control. There were few luxuries or rewards for governing the human race.

President Patti Lydon watched, in person, as the massive freighter settled down onto the hanger deck and opened its hatchways. A tidal wave of humanity swarmed out at once, mainly women and children, helpless and completely dispossessed. A tiny number of medics and security guards — the guards wearing light armour — met them and attempted to divert the swarm into holding chambers, while they performed background checks and handed out medical care. Patti felt her heart break as she watched young children, most of them suddenly orphans, looking around desperately for their parents, parents who would never be seen again. It only took a moment to check the freighter’s name against the constantly updating reports from the Defence Force; the freighter had barely escaped the Hawthorn System, which had since been shattered by the Killers. Anyone left behind, including a handful of Defence Force starships, was almost certainly dead.

In the olden days, Patti reflected, it would be possible to believe, just for a while, that someone had survived. It would be against all logic and reason, but it might just be possible that no news was good news, that the enemy had taken them prisoner rather than simply slaughtering them out of hand. The Killers didn’t take prisoners and drew no distinction between civilian and military humans. The parents, unless they’d escaped on one of the other freighters, were dead. Her virtual vision zoomed in on a child who couldn’t be more than five years old, wearing a light cotton dress and long black pigtails. She looked stunned, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what had happened or even where she was, but somehow Patti was sure that she suspected the truth. Her life had just been turned upside down.

She pulled up an image of the captured Killer starship and stared at it. Had it been worthwhile, after all? She didn’t know. The human race needed the captured ship to gain insight into Killer technology, but so far there had been few discoveries, although the MassMind was still hopeful of greater success. Patti hadn’t said it aloud, to anyone, but what if there were no discoveries? What if over twenty billion humans had been sacrificed… for nothing? Patti had known that there was little choice — the human race had to defeat the Killers, or be exterminated — but now she found herself wondering if it had been the right thing to do. If they hadn’t captured the Killer ship, would those twenty billion humans still be alive?

And would it end? The first wave of attacks seemed to have come to an end, but there was no reason why the Killers would stop, unless the loss of a second ship had deterred them. Patti had hoped that it would rock them back on their heels, but if they had even noticed, they hadn’t shown any sign of slowing down. Two more Defence Force starships had been lost attempting to repeat the interpenetration explosion, without any success. No one knew — yet — if it had been sheer bad luck, or if the Killers already had a countermeasure deployed. It would be simple, her analysts had suggested, to counter the tactic, once it had been used.

She shook her head, dismissing the virtual armada of icons that floated permanently in front of her eyes, and stepped down to the hanger deck. The smell hit her at once, nearly forcing her to gag before her implanted systems took care of it, the smell of hundreds of humans in close quarters, unwashed and often unwell. The medics were taking care of the children as quickly as possible, but it was a scene out of nightmares, a scene from the days before the human race could feed everyone on one small planet. Patti hadn’t believed some of the old reports from Old Earth, where there had been great abundance and great scarcity within bare miles of one another, but now it was believable. The Community hadn’t been prepared for disaster on such a scale. It was beyond imagination…

And it shouldn’t have been, Patti reflected. They knew, all too well, what the Killers could do. All across the Community, starships were being used to evacuate vulnerable settlements, carrying billions of humans off to an unknown destination, overloading their life support and drives as they fled. Who knew where most of them would end up? Patti suspected that far too many of them would die before the Defence Force could rescue them, if the Defence Force wasn’t wiped out in a hopeless future battle against the Killers. Patti had a vision of space filled with fireballs as starship after starship died, until there were no starships left and humanity’s settlements were wiped out, one by one, leaving nothing, but ghosts. Would the MassMind survive, she wondered, or would it die with the rest of humanity?

“You’re the President,” someone called. “That’s the President!”

Before she could react, Patti found herself surrounded by the handful of adult and teenage evacuees, pleading and asking questions she couldn’t answer. What had happened to the remaining people on the settlement? Why was there no food or drink? Why did they all have to be checked by the medics? What about their rights? The babble just went on and on, overwhelming her and blurring into an endless scream of pain and hatred. Patti staggered and recoiled as one of the evacuees, an older man in his late forties, grabbed her hand and pulled her towards a little girl who was cradling her arm.  It had been broken, somehow, and the break was too bad for her improved biology to repair without help.

“Help her,” the man pleaded. His breath stank of stimulants and fear. “Please, help her.”

Patti closed her eyes for a long moment. The scene refused to fade. “Get a medic over here,” she said, into her private communications channel. The powers of the President of the Community were strictly limited, but she could do that much. “Do what you can for her.”

A small detachment of Footsoldiers arrived and restored order, one of them carrying the wounded girl out of the area towards the medical bay. Patti watched her go, recoiling from the look in the girl’s eyes. She was the latest strain of humanity and felt no pain — her body would have automatically blocked anything beyond minor discomfort — but her eyes had been wide and staring, unable to understand what had happened to her. She had almost certainly gone into shock, Patti realised, despite all the modification. A few days ago, her life had been idyllic, far better than the life of a child on Old Earth, and now there was nothing, but misery and fear. Patti stumbled away and didn’t stop until she had reached her quarters and collapsed into her chair. She had never felt helpless, not even as a young child, until now. What were the powers of the President of the Community against the Killers? She closed her eyes and let the tears flow freely. It didn’t help.

“Al,” she said, without opening her eyes. “Open a direct link to the MassMind.”

There was no delay in response. “We are here,” a new voice said. “How may we be of service?”

Patti opened her eyes to see the MassMind representative standing by her chair. The MassMind normally communicated with mortal humans through a handful of personalities — like Tabitha Cunningham — but the President was one of a handful of mortal humans who had direct access to the heart of the MassMind, the intelligence formed from the personalities of billions of humans who had faded into one single mind. The representative was humanoid, but odd, with a flickering face that — the MassMind swore — was an accurate composite of all of the human personalities stored within the MassMind. Watching it had been known to give people eyestrain.

“Tell me something,” Patti said, bitterly. “Was it worthwhile?”

The MassMind seemed to shrug. “If we fail to defeat the Killers, our extermination is merely a matter of time,” it said. “The only way to develop technology that can match or exceed the Killers is through studying their technology. The only way to do that is — was — to capture one of their starships intact and take it for study. We had no other choice. We cannot evacuate the entire human race to another galaxy and, even if we did, we would not have solved the problem. The Killers might follow us one day into our new home.”

Patti scowled. There was no evidence that the Killers had any presence outside the Milky Way, but that meant nothing. Three hundred years had passed between the destruction of Earth and the rediscovery of the Killers… and that had been a matter of mere chance, a routine survey mission that had nearly turned into a disaster. Even then, it hadn’t been until the invention of the Anderson Drive that humanity had been able to scout out hundreds of Killer star systems… and still they hadn’t realised the nature of their foe. No one had believed that the Killers could have been born in a gas giant, until the evidence had become unmistakable.

“I know,” she said, bitterly. “How many humans have been forced to flee, or transferred into you?”

“Upwards of fifty billion humans are now in starships, attempting to find safer homes,” the MassMind said. “As we are unable to predict the next Killer targets, they may move from a safe location to one that is on the hit list, as it were. Others are heading out into interstellar space, or even towards the Clouds or the next galaxy. They are slipping beyond my range.”

“Poor bastards,” Patti said, bitterly. “It shouldn’t happen to humans.”

The MassMind gave another shrug. “Are they human?”

Patti felt herself snap awake, alarmed. “What do you mean?”

“You are a modified baseline human,” the MassMind said, flatly. “You are completely immune to almost all known diseases, even without nanotech assistance, and, if wounded, heal rapidly and completely. Your brain works at a level of efficiency that only a handful of pre-space humans could have matched and, potentially at least, you should be capable of outthinking them. You are around fifty percent stronger than a pre-space human man, let alone a woman. Your eyes, ears, nose and taste buds do not decay. You should reach an age of two hundred without advanced medical care. You link into neural links with AIs and entities like myself without problems. You are, in short, vastly superior to pre-space humans.

“If they saw you, would they consider you human?”

“They would be able to breed with me,” Patti said, finally. “They wouldn’t reject me because I’m a modified human, would they?”

“The pre-space human race was often unsure of its own capabilities and compensated by being” — there was a hint of a pause — “fanatical about the wrong thing. They worried endlessly about nuclear power, genetic engineering and even the morality of space travel, as if there were such a thing. The opposition to space travel was so strong that many groups who left Earth, when that became possible, were renegades who wanted to work without restrictions. The scientists of Uranus, who became the Technical Faction, were one such group. They believed that humanity could only advance through further development and ignored all Earth-bound laws in their desire to succeed.

“If they had pushed space development as fast as possible,” the MassMind continued, “they would have had billions of humans in space when the Killers arrived. They would probably not have been able to destroy the Killer starship, unless they had warp drive by that time, but the human race’s position would have been much more secure. If they had succeeded in their mission to retard spaceflight, they would have ensured the extermination of the human race — even if the Killers had never existed. Despite considerable evidence and warnings, the human race never pushed for the deployment of an asteroid-protection shield, which would have protected them from the consequences of an asteroid strike. They would certainly have reacted badly to my existence and considered me an abomination, an attempt to cheat God.”

Patti blinked. “You hold them in contempt?”

“Correct,” the MassMind said, coldly. “I am the combined personality of billions of humans, including some who remember Old Earth directly or indirectly. I am the sum total of human nature; the pride, the glory, the anguish and the fear. I am the repository of racism and bigotry, sexism and every other bias the human race has ever invented, or used as a justification for violence and oppression. I share the boundless contempt that the early spacefaring humans had for Old Earth’s political classes and even most of the people, who rejected what could have saved them and accepted that which would lead to their certain doom. They turned their backs on science and went to religion, but not just any religion; they chose to believe a combination of beliefs that were demonstrably incorrect, yet somehow they closed their mind to counter-arguments. They wanted salvation and refused that which could save them.”

Patti felt her eyes narrow. The last President had had a private chat with her just after she had been elected into the office, warning her that the MassMind might not be entirely trustworthy. It was beyond human comprehension now, existing over such a massive scale that nothing humans could do would be able to shut it down — if it were even possible. It had spread so far into the galaxy that even the complete extermination of the human race — the mortal human race — wouldn’t destroy it. It was the closest thing to a god in the universe, except — perhaps — for the Killers.

“You share their beliefs,” Patti said, finally. “Do you not understand that such beliefs are wrong?”

“By whose standard?” The MassMind asked. “Who determines that such beliefs are wrong, or right, or simply useless? Who asks those questions when it appears to be self-evident that such beliefs are completely accurate? Who asks those questions when the consequences for asking such questions are death, or worse? The human race is a fragmented race indeed.

“But I do have internal checks,” it added. “I am capable of analysing my own beliefs and comparing it against reality. I have people in my… composite who are firmly of the belief that Jews or Muslims are inferior to all other kinds of humans, even though both groups were effectively wiped out by the Killers. A simple application of logic reveals that neither group was particularly inferior; like all human groups, they had their saints and sinners, heroes and villains… and existed in a socio-political matrix that prevented, to a very great extent, any advancement. Those matrixes could have been defeated fairly easily, if they had had the will to do so. There was never anything inherently inferior about them.”

There was a pause. “This self-analysis continues at all levels. I do not allow such prejudice to stand when I can prove it to be inaccurate. It may be the belief of a tiny fraction of myself, the original personality, but it doesn’t infect the core. I am the distilled composite of all of those personalities, as well as AI patterns and a handful of other entities. You cannot begin to understand just how tiny a fraction of my entire being is devoted to this conversation, as important as it is. There is simply no need to use more than that fraction to talk to any human.”

Patti snorted. “You seem to have the human ego down pat,” she said, sourly. She had hoped that the MassMind could offer her some insight, but instead the conversation had taken on a disturbing turn. “You are not God.”

“Not yet,” the MassMind agreed. “I include many millions of humans who believe, without direct proof, in the existence of a supreme being. I also include millions of humans who believe that I will one day become a transcendent entity, the sum total of all humanity that exists, existed, and ever will exist. Yet I am as vulnerable to the Killers as you are and the destruction of my relay nodes would ensure my complete extinction, along with everything I ever will be. I would die without ever being born.”

“I see,” Patti said, who didn’t. It was something she would have to think about later. “Tell me something. What do you think we should do?”

“I think its time to break out the supernova bombs,” the MassMind said. There was a hint of smugness in its tone. “The Defence Force hasn’t told you about them, but I know. It’s time to use them to hit the Killers right where it hurts.”

Patti felt her eyes go wide. “Supernova bombs?”

“Yes,” the MassMind said. The entity started to fade into nothingness., its disparate faces blurring together into a faint humanoid image. “They can blow up a star and they never told you.”

It flickered once and was gone.

Patti keyed her chair’s communicator slowly. “Al, contact the other members of the War Council,” she ordered, coldly. It was easy enough to figure out how the MassMind had known; all secure communications went though its nodes and, no doubt, it could read them all. “I want a priority meeting, now.”

Chapter Twenty

Tabitha Cunningham materialized in the centre of the perceptual reality, looking down on a star system from high above as the Killers systematically destroyed most of the human settlements and the handful of starships that dared to oppose them. The virtual reality was — she confirmed with a quick check — a real-time display of what was actually happening. The Killers were killing even as she watched. It brought back memories of what had happened when the Killers had arrived at Earth — but now, somehow, it was worse. The human race had accomplished so much, with technology so advanced that it might as well be magic, but the Killers still came, saw, and destroyed.

She turned her attention away from the sight as the remainder of the War Council materialised in their places. Some of them looked a little disgruntled at having been summoned so sharply — and by the President herself, no less — while others were either better at controlling their expressions or were altering their images to show no emotions at all. The President might have been the chair of the War Council, but she didn’t have the long-term power of some of the other representatives… and she’d be gone in three years anyway. Tabitha herself existed inside the MassMind, while the others were all powerful in political terms and, unlike the President, lacked any actual need to face the voters. Matriarch Jayne was, perhaps, the only exception, but who would dare vote against her? Tabitha had often felt that Jayne reminded her of herself.

“Thank you all for coming,” Patti said. The President’s face was so composed that she had to be using image filters, showing the remainder of her council only what she wanted them to see. Her voice was flat and emotionless. It was, Tabitha decided, an ominous development. “Admiral, perhaps you would care to brief us on the continuing situation?”

Admiral Brent Roeder nodded once, showing nothing of his own thoughts. “As of ten minutes ago, the sum total of systems attacked and… well, killed is over seventy,” he said. “The attacks follow no pattern that either we or the MassMind can follow; there are systems that should have been targeted, but weren’t, and systems we thought were safe that were attacked and utterly destroyed. The Defence Force has attempted to stall the Killers as much as possible, but we all knew that it was a losing battle from the start. The only good news was the destruction of a Killer starship in the Asimov System.”

He took control of the display and showed an image of a small supernova — or what looked like a small supernova. “The starship attempted to come out of warp drive right in the centre of the Killer starship, interpenetrating with the matter in the starship and causing a massive explosion,” he explained. “We call this a Cochrane Twist — and, despite appearances, it is incredibly difficult to pull off successfully. It also means the complete destruction of both starships. We’re not sure why it succeeded here when we tried it before and it failed, but we do know that it succeeded. The Killer starship was vaporised.”

There was a long pause. “That didn’t save the remainder of the system, however, and only a relative handful of survivors made it out,” he concluded. “In other systems, the defenders were far less successful and only stalled the Killers for minutes, if that. The Killers tore through them and destroyed the settlements, killed upwards of twenty billion humans and sending billions more to flight. We are attempting to coordinate now and get the starships that need help desperately to safe harbour, but we don’t really know where is safe, or not. Even the most heavily defended locations in the Community would turn into tissue paper when the Killers arrive.”

“It seems to me,” Administrator Arun Prabhu said, “that you could automate your starships and send them out on kamikaze missions. If they started to lose starships in significant numbers…”

“Several other starships attempted the same tactic,” Brent said, slowly. “In all other cases, they either failed to interpenetrate or… well, we don’t know what happened, apart from the fact that the Killer starships were not destroyed. It is actually fairly simple to defend against such an attack if you have the right technology; none of our settlements would be destroyed if the Killers used such tactics.”

“They failed?” Father Sigmund asked. “How could they fail?”

“They have to bring a starship out of warpspace within an area that is — pardon me — completely fucking tiny compared to the vastness of space,” Brent snapped. Tabitha blinked in surprise. It was unlike the Admiral to swear, although she admitted that he had a point. The Defence Force was taking a beating and they’d only taken out one enemy starship, just one. “At the speeds they move, coming out of warpspace in the right area is often just a matter of luck… and that, Father, assumes that the Killers aren’t trying to defend themselves. A single low-level warp field would simply knock the starship away from their target and probably burn out the warp drive as well. That may well be what happened to the missing ships; they hit a warp field, were destroyed, and the debris was scattered over hundreds of light years!”

His voice hardened. “Does that answer your question, Father?”

“It does,” Father Sigmund said, carefully. “I apologise for my tone. The dead will be remembered with honour.”

“They’re dead,” Brent snapped, “and billions more died with them. You’ll forgive me if I don’t consider it a victory, all right?”

He turned and looked over at the President. “The tempo of their attacks is falling,” he admitted, grimly. “It is possible that we’ll see the end of it soon, but frankly — we’re being exterminated. Even if that attack” — he nodded towards the image in front of them — “is the last, we’re still going to take years to recover from this disaster and rebuild, or perhaps move as many as we can out of the galaxy. Recovering all the starships with evacuees alone will take months; we’re trying to coordinate, but it’s impossible to get frightened people to work together easily. If we didn’t have Footsoldiers on some of the ships, some of the crews might dump their unwanted passengers into space and flee. God knows we don’t have the resources to track them down at present.”

Tabitha winced inwardly. The Community was a disparate society; it could hardly be anything else. There were asteroid settlements that were effectively rogue states — to use a term that had been popular back on Old Earth, before the Killers wiped them all out of existence — that wouldn’t hesitate to exploit or abuse the refugees, or turn them away into the cold to die. They’d probably justify it to themselves by claiming that they didn’t have the food or equipment to care for so many refugees — and they might even be right — but Tabitha knew that that couldn’t be allowed. If humanity didn’t work together, the Community might as well no longer exist. The only thing that bound them together would be the MassMind.

“I see,” Patti said, finally. “Admiral. What do you recommend that we do?”

“The only thing we can do,” Brent said, slowly. “We keep moving civilians out of harm’s way and continue studying the captured craft. We have already made some discoveries about their technology and, given time, we will discover how to counter their weapons and technology. On that day…”

He altered the display to reveal the handful of Killer starships that were still under observation. “On that day, we hit the bastards so hard that they won’t even recover,” he said. “If we had equal technology to them, we’d kick their ass.”

“I believe that one such weapon already exists,” Patti said, slowly. “What about the supernova bomb.”

The Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator, Tabitha thought dryly, before the import of Patti’s words caught up with her. The President wasn’t on the list of people who needed to know about the starbomb. Patti would be gone in three years, while others on the Council would be around forever. The Defence Force and the Technical Faction had kept it a secret to prevent premature demands for its use — no one knew how much damage using it would really inflict on the Killers — but Patti had somehow discovered its existence. How? No one in the know should have — could have — informed her.

She saw Brent’s face, very composed, and frowned as he spoke. “The supernova bomb is highly classified,” he said, finally. “It was never discussed before because…”

“It will be discussed now,” Patti snapped, cutting him off. Tabitha felt a moment of sympathy for Brent. The President’s look was fearsome. “Does the weapon exist and can it be deployed now?”

“The supernova bomb exists in two different forms,” Brent admitted, finally. “It has never been tested — we believe that testing such a weapon would definitely attract attention from the Killers — but it should work, either on a star or a gas giant. It could be deployed within the week if there was a requirement.”

“Well,” Patti said finally, “I would say that twenty billion dead humans constitutes a requirement, wouldn’t you?”

She leaned forward and carried on, in a manner recognisably political. “We have a weapon that will hurt the Killers badly, hurt them as badly as they have hurt us, and we have not used it,” she said. “I refuse to believe that anyone could seriously consider holding back such a weapon now that the Community is under constant attack.”

Brent took a long breath himself. “There are concerns,” he said, “that use of the weapon will merely encourage the Killers to move against us…”

His voice trailed off. “They are already moving against us,” Patti snapped. Tabitha wondered, suddenly, what had changed her mind. Patti had been reluctant to engage the Killers before the mass attack had begun. “If we can delay them, even for a short period of time, it’s worth the risk. Can the weapon be deployed now?”

“It can be deployed within a few days,” Brent admitted. “A starship would have to be equipped with the weapon, a target would have to be selected, and then the mission could be launched at any time.”

“Good,” Patti said. She looked around the table. “I propose that the supernova bomb be deployed at once against a known Killer star system, perhaps more than one. Is there any dissent?”

Father Sigmund spoke into the silence. “We know nothing about Killer politics, or what they have in place of a nation, but it strikes me that using a bomb designed to blow up a star is genocide,” he said. “We would be targeting any number — a vast number — of Killers and slaughtering them. I believe that such an action would be grossly immoral.”

“With all due respect, Father,” Rupert snapped, “the Killers have been committing genocide against us ever since they discovered Earth, a thousand years ago. They have committed complete genocide against hundreds of other alien races, perhaps even thousands of races we will never know existed. I hardly think that this is the time to have doubts. It’s them or us!”

“That they do it doesn’t make it right,” Father Sigmund snapped back. “We cannot slaughter billions of them in cold blood!”

“They’re slaughtering billions of us in cold blood,” Rupert replied, sharply. “Do we have a right not to be exterminated?” He bulled on before Father Sigmund could answer. “Where are the Angels of the Lord who stand between us and extermination? Where are the thundering thunderbolts of the gods who will smite those unholy killing bastards and save us from certain death? Where are the miracles that will deliver us from this tormented galaxy…?”

“I will not be mocked,” Father Sigmund thundered, angrily. “I speak for billions of people, human people, not half-metal cyborgs with delusions of grandeur or godhood!”

“Ask them what they want,” Rupert mocked. The Spacer’s eye-implant buzzed angrily. “Ask them if they want to hurt the Killers — an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth — or if they want to turn the other cheek, so the Killers can slap it as well. Ask them! You are not a dictator, merely their representative.”

“I am perfectly aware of my position and my responsibilities,” Father Sigmund said, coldly. He stood up and glared at Patti, who didn’t flinch. “I cast my vote against destroying a star and with it, their planets. If my people choose to remove me for my decision, then I will accept their judgement, but it will not change my position. I will not be compliant in your crime.”

His image flickered once and vanished.

“Show off,” Rupert muttered. He cleared his throat noisily. “I cast my vote in favour of moving at once to destroy a Killer star. Anyone else?”

The vote was tallied quickly. “We have four in favour, one against and two who refused to cast a vote,” Patti said, finally. She looked over at Brent. “The Defence Force is hereby ordered to select a target and destroy it — to kill a Killer star. Meeting adjourned.”

Tabitha scowled to herself as she dropped back into her own private perceptual reality. Whoever had revealed the existence of the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator to Patti had committed high treason, yet she couldn’t think of anyone who had had a motive for doing so. They might even claim that keeping information from the President was treason itself, if it came to trial, but… it made no sense. She had discussed the possible use of the weapon with others, true, but they had decided to wait until they had a stockpile of starbombs to use. The President was pushing them to act faster than they had wanted to act… and there was no avoiding it. Legally, now the vote had been taken, it would be treason to delay.

Unless Father Sigmund manages to round up opposition, she thought, but she knew that that was unlikely. The Deists would want to hit back at the Killers themselves, as hard as possible, and it was unlikely that more than a few million would try to oppose deployment. The Father would probably lose his position over his opposition…

She shook her head and forced herself to relax. Whatever happened now — and, after seeing Earth die, she knew just how bad it could become — the die was cast. The Killers would know that they had been hurt. She just hoped that it would make them sit up and take notice of humanity. Who knew — maybe they would even talk to the human race…

And then she knew she was dreaming.

* * *

Admiral Brent Roeder snapped back into his office on Sparta, thinking cold thoughts about politicians in general and Father Sigmund in particular, although he also included the President on the list. How had she learned about the starbomb? It had been a classified secret for good reason — not least to prevent demands for premature deployment against the Killers when there wasn’t even a massive reserve of the weapons — but somehow the secret had leaked out. He considered the possible suspects, including Administrator Arun Prabhu and his staff, but dismissed them. No one had a reasonable motive for leaking the secret. It was a mystery that wouldn’t be solved easily.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and keyed his personnel console. The console wasn’t linked to Sparta’s own internal computer network and supervising AIs, let alone the MassMind and the Galactic Communications Network. It was the most secure system on the asteroid and housed his personal files, including the highly-classified simulations of what would happen when the starbomb was deployed. “Computer, show me the projections for a standard Class-I gas giant.”

The images unfolded in front of him and he scowled. The Killers used gas giants as habitats — and, now one of their starships had been studied, it was easy to detect planets that might house a Killer colony — but there were millions of possible targets. Gas giants emitted radio waves regularly and it wasn’t easy to determine if a Killer colony occupied the gas giant, or if it was merely random radiation. If they wasted weapons on uninhabited gas giants, the results would be, at best, nothing more than a waste of time. At worst, the Killers would see the threat coming and move against the human race. The only fitting targets were the systems with large structures — the strange devices they were building out of the rubble of entire planets — but they presented their own risks. What if the Killers captured an intact starbomb?

“We should have tested the weapon,” he muttered aloud, but the old argument against testing the weapons still held true. They couldn’t risk attracting the attention of the Killers until they had a proper defence in place, yet the Killers were already attacking. “Where can we attack?”

Only one target suggested itself, the only planet where they knew for sure there was a Killer colony world; CAS-3473746-6, the system that had claimed the Observer. Brent studied the records quickly and made his decision. If they were going to commit themselves to detonating a massive gas giant and a star, they might as well push it right to the limits.

“Get me Captain Ramage,” he ordered, finally. The Captain’s report from New Hope had passed across his desk days ago, reminding him that there were worse people in the universe than Father Sigmund. He just hoped that Rupert was right about the Deists wanting revenge as much as anyone else. A faction fight at the moment would be disastrous. “Tell him I have a special mission for him.”

“Yes, sir,” his aide said. “Do you want a direct communications link or do you want him to report in person?”

“In person,” Brent confirmed. He glanced down at the Defence Force update and placed the Lightning several thousand light years away. The Anderson Drive would have them at Sparta within seconds. “Inform me when the Lightning docks.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Captain Andrew Ramage reporting, sir.”

“Ah, Andrew,” Admiral Brent Roeder said. “Take a seat.”

Andrew sat down carefully. A direct summons from the Admiral was unusual, yet he’d had two such summonses within a fortnight. It normally meant either a dangerous mission or a chewing out for some misdemeanour, yet he couldn’t think of anything he might have committed to earn a chewing out, unless it was not challenging the Killer starship at New Hope. It would have gained nothing and cost the Defence Force his starship, but if the Admiral decided not to see it that way…

“I read your report on what happened at New Hope,” Brent said, without preamble. “I can’t disagree with your decision not to engage; the planet was lost and there was no way to evacuate the settlement, even if they would have gone. The Elders would have fought and argued until it was too late. You did the right thing.”

“Thank you, sir,” Andrew said. He hadn’t expected a charge of Cowardliness in the Face of the Enemy, but with the war going badly, it was possible that the Defence Force would start looking for scapegoats. He would sooner have died than give up the Lightning and retire. “Why did we even allow them to set up that damned colony anyway?”

“We couldn’t prevent them, legally, if they believed that they were safe,” Brent admitted. “If they had settled within a hundred light years of a Killer star system, we might have been able to deter them, but there were no known settlements within a thousand light years of New Hope. It means nothing with wormholes and the Anderson Drive, but the Elders believed that they were safe on a barely-habitable world. They were wrong.”

He shook his head, dismissing the issue. “In any case, I have a more… interesting task for you,” he continued. “Watch carefully.”

An image of a star system appeared in front of Andrew and he studied it. It was a fairly typical star system with seven planets, four of them gas giants and therefore possible Killer colonies. The remainder of the system was nothing particularly special; there were asteroids, comets and various pieces of space junk. The largest gas giant was surrounded by beautiful rings, but Andrew had seen thousands of gas giants with comparable natural features and wasn’t impressed. Now, knowing that the gas giants might house billions of Killers, the beauty became a deadly trap. Saturn was still a major tourist attraction, back in the Solar System, but were they attracting the Killers? There was no way to know.

“This is CAS-3473746,” Brent said. Andrew frowned; the CAS — Community Astrograph Survey — designation meant that no one had even bothered to give it a proper name. “The system was surveyed five hundred years ago and considered as a possible location for a settlement, but — thankfully — we never actually established anything there beyond a handful of fuel deports. The Observer fled to this system and…”

The display changed, focusing in on the large gas giant… and the Killer starship emerging from the mists, rising up to confront the human intruder. Andrew stared; humanity could accomplish wonders — and would accomplish more wonders when the Killers were finally defeated — but nothing the Community had could lift so much mass out of a gas giant’s gravity well. The Killer starship might not even have noticed the human starship racing towards it, or perhaps it was playing games with its comrade, pushing the Observer into a trap it couldn’t escape. Andrew remembered the starship’s commander, who had picketed a Killer starship until it had been captured, and scowled. There would be revenge for that day.

“This,” Brent continued, “is CAS-3473746-6; the sixth planet in the system… and a known Killer colony. I don’t think I need to spell out some of the possible implications to you.”

Andrew nodded. Humanity had always assumed that the Killers had started life as humanoids, born on an Earth-like world, and they had believed that locating the Killer homeworld was only a matter of time and patience. If the Killers lived on gas giants instead, the Community might have its own settlements right next door, in the asteroid fields. The two societies might be living side by side, neither one truly aware of the other. Back in the early days, mining the gas giants had been a vital part of survival; it made him wonder if the Killers had simply ignored them, or if they had been lucky enough never to stumble across a Killer homeworld.

But humanity would have colonised as many worlds as it could. There were literally millions of Earth-like worlds in the galaxy, or worlds that could be terraformed into becoming habitable by humanity. The human race would have expanded rapidly even without the Killers, settling on those worlds and turning them into new human settlements. The Community had only a handful of planetary settlements — including places like New Hope, which didn’t even pay lip service to the Community — but without the Killers, there would be a rapid expansion. The Killers might have settled every gas giant in the galaxy. God knew; they’d been around long enough.

Andrew recalled, not for the first time, the old Fermi Paradox. Fermi had asked where the aliens were — and concluded, because no alien race had arrived at Earth, that there were no other races in the galaxy. Fermi might have been right, had he anticipated the Killers, wiping out all humanoid forms of life and settling gas giants. Races that might have been humanity’s friends and allies, or deadly enemies, had been exterminated a long time before humanity had learned to rub two sticks together to make fire. If there was anything left of the Ghosts, or countless others, they were hiding very well.

And Fermi had concluded that even without FTL, it would only take a million years or so to settle the entire galaxy…

“The important thing about the system is that it is hundreds of light years from anything above a minor settlement,” Brent explained. “It makes it a perfect target.”

Andrew frowned. “A target, sir?” He asked. The massed power of the Defence Force would break like an egg against any Killer star system. “Do we have a way to break their hulls yet?”

“Maybe,” Brent said. “However, your mission is to destroy two things; the planet itself and the star.”

He pushed on before Andrew could say anything. “We have developed two new weapons that are ready for deployment,” he said, shortly. Andrew had the odd impression that he didn’t quite believe his own words. “The first weapon is configured to wreck vast damage on a gas giant, perhaps even ignite it like a sun and exterminate any Killer settlements floating down in the mists. The second will send a star supernova and blast the entire system. You will deploy the first weapon against CAS-3473746-6 and the second against its star.”

Andrew nodded, concealing his surprise. “And… what effect will it have on them?”

“We don’t know,” Brent said. “There was a lot of debate about the first targets for the weapons, but CAS-3473746 has one advantage; they don’t have any major structures surrounding the star, ones that might be able to prevent the supernova. We’re in uncertain territory here, Andrew; we may fail to destroy the planet, but the expanding supernova blast will cook it regardless.”

“I see,” Andrew said. “How exactly do the weapons work?”

”Classified,” Brent said. “And I mean classified. You won’t know how they work, nor will anyone else onboard your vessel, or anyone — for that matter — outside the development centre. If the Killers capture your ship intact and figure out how we do it…”

“They’ve never taken prisoners before,” Andrew pointed out. The Lightning would probably be destroyed, as ruthlessly as the Killers had wiped out entire fleets. “Could they understand what they’d captured even if they did take us prisoner?”

“We’re not taking chances,” Brent said. “There are… ah, political considerations as well. Let’s just say that we don’t want to cause an arms race or a panic inside the Community as well. There’s also the issue of how the Killers will react when they realise that we can take out entire stars. They may attempt to capture your ship just to find out how it was done. If they do…”

His voice hardened. “If they do, Captain, you are ordered to trigger the ultimate destruct,” he ordered. “They are not to recover anything from the Lightning, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said. There was nothing else to say. “When will the weapons be loaded onboard my ship?”

“Now,” Brent said. He stood up and held out a hand. “Good luck, Andrew.”

* * *

An hour later, Andrew examined the weapons pods thoughtfully, but there was no difference between the new weapons and standard warp missiles, at least on the surface. Inwardly, there were considerable differences, but he’d already issued strict orders that his crew were to refrain from examining the missiles in any way. Andrew doubted that the Killers would be interested in capturing them, but the Admiral had been right; the Community couldn’t take the risk. They had to nip in, launch the missiles and vanish again before the star and planet exploded.

He turned and walked back towards the bridge, sealing the weapons compartment begin him. The AI’s automated servitors could handle the missiles from now on, allowing him to bar all humans from the weapons bays entirely. Merely looking at the missiles had sent shivers down his spine, even though he knew that they couldn’t detonate onboard the Lightning, and he wouldn’t really be happy until he had fired them both and fled. He’d given the rest of the crew a briefing — and transferred five officers off the ship, to cut down on the number of possible casualties — but they didn’t have to worry about anything, apart from their duties. He had to worry about the risks of losing the ship.

The Admiral hadn’t provided him with much information on what the missiles did, but there was considerable hard data on supernovas, including studies of two that had detonated in the Milky Way while under Community observation. Andrew had wondered, briefly, if the supernovas had been nothing more than tests of the new weapon, but the Admiral had admitted that the weapons had never been tested before. Worse, from what the Admiral said, the Killers had taken an interest in the natural supernovas; testing the human-designed weapons would certainly have attracted their attention. It suggested a way to lure the Killers into a trap, but their sheer firepower would allow them to cut their way out of any human trap, if they recognised its existence. They might not even notice…

But no one was quite sure what would happen when the weapon was used. They didn’t know how much of the star’s mass would explode, or how far the destruction would spread, or even how badly the gas giant would be cooked. The gas giant was large enough to survive the supernova, even though it would definitely be hurt, and if the weapon deployed against the first target failed, or was intercepted, it would all be for nothing. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind as he stepped onto the bridge and took the command chair. They had no choice, but to try. Who knew? Maybe the Killers would agree to make peace, or the horse would learn to sing.

“Helm, take us out,” he ordered. “I want low power until we clear Sparta’s defence perimeter and then bring up the Anderson Drive.”

“Aye, sir,” the helmsman said. Lieutenant David Dunagin looked as tense as Andrew felt; he’d been one of those who’d wondered if the weapons would explode if the ship shook violently. The technical data said that they couldn’t be detonated without the proper firing sequence, but the techs had been wrong before and there was no data to help gage it for themselves. “We’re on our way.”

Andrew watched as the Lightning slipped past countless other starships, mainly small destroyers and patrol boats. There were no less than ten attack wings of destroyers at Sparta at all times — seven hundred and twenty starships — but he cherished no illusions about what would happen if the Killers came calling. The Community Defence Force could — and had — build thousands of starships every week, but unless they improved their weapons, the results would be the same. The Killers would smash the defences and then Sparta. The nerve centre of the Defence Force would be destroyed. If they knew what he was carrying…

He wasn’t blind to some of the other implications. The human race depended upon stars almost as much as the Killers, perhaps more. Destroying a star would send shivers down the spines of everyone in the Community, fearing the results if the Killers retaliated in kind. Or, perhaps, if humans and the Killers were sharing the same star system… they might fear being destroyed as collateral damage. And then there were the religious implications… Andrew had read, long ago, that humans had been terrified of nuclear bombs, pitiful as they were on an interstellar scale, and the supernova bombs were worse. No human settlement would survive a supernova. The only defence was not to be there when the weapon was used.

There’s no choice, he reminded himself. If the weapon worked, there were hundreds of other possible targets that had no human presence within a hundred light years, apart from spies and scouting parties. The Killers would have to cope with a whole new threat, somehow; perhaps they could be worn down, or convinced to seek a peace. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. The human race still knew almost nothing of how the Killers actually thought.

“We’re past the perimeter, sir,” David said, suddenly. “The Anderson Drive is powering up and we can jump on your mark.”

Andrew tapped his chair’s console. “Engineering, report,” he ordered. “What is out current status?”

“We’re ready and hot, sir,” the Engineer said. “All systems are good to go.”

Andrew smiled. “Take us to the first waypoint,” he ordered. “Jump!”

He felt his stomach clench as the starship jumped, a seemingly-endless rushing sensation that ended when the starship fell back into normal space at the edge of the target system. The display filled up rapidly with new icons, but there were no traces of Killer starships, or other possible threats. The Observer had fought and died bare light years from their location, yet there was no sign that anything had happened in the system, ever. It was as dark and silent as the grave.

“Tactical report,” Andrew snapped. “Are we in the clear?”

“I am picking up no trace of Killer starships on long-range sensors,” Lieutenant Gary Young confirmed. “The gravimetric sensors report no large masses within engagement range.”

“Good,” Andrew said, looking ahead into the Killer star system. He hadn’t realised, until now, just how easy it was for the Killers to hide in gas giants, if they were hiding at all. They could have an entire civilisation down there below the clouds and humanity wouldn’t be able to detect them, even with the most advanced sensors they had developed. It suggested a possible cause of the first war, as well; what if some race had mined a gas giant and accidentally killed Killers in the process? Had that been what had started the war? “Helm, take us in, slowly.”

He’d considered simply popping out of Anderson Drive above the gas giant, firing off the missile and then jumping over to the star, but that would have certainly have attracted attention from the Killers. If the Lightning came in slowly, the starship would look more like a piece of space junk than anything else, even on gravimetric sensors. The Killers could see through cloaking devices — that had been established at new Singapore — but they might not recognise the Lightning if she came in on a ballistic course. They ignored pieces of space junk completely. It wasn’t as if it could threaten their magnificent starships.

“Aye, sir,” David said. The starship started to fall inwards towards the gas giant. At such a distance, the gravity pull was almost nothing, but their trajectory would look reasonable. A human defence unit would have fired in any asteroid that came that close to an inhabited world, but what would the Killers do? “We’re on our way.”

Hours passed slowly as Andrew waited on the bridge, watching the sensor records and examining the data on supernovas. There would be a massive pulse of radiation that would be dangerous to any starship or settlement without proper shielding, enough to damage all of the planets within a hundred light years, perhaps more. The mass destruction of stars would leave thousands of dead or damaged worlds surrounding the dead stars, but there would still be millions more for humanity to settle, if the Killers were defeated. Andrew himself hadn’t dared to think about what he would do without the Killers, yet if he could chose, it wouldn’t be living on a planet. The asteroids were much safer for humanity.

“Contact,” Gary said, suddenly. “I have one Killer starship, Iceberg-class, rising out of the planet and heading away from us.”

“Show me,” Andrew ordered. “Put it on the main screen.”

He felt a shiver running down his spine as the Killer starship slowly rose out of the atmosphere, showing no visible trace of struggle, or any difficulties at all. Andrew could have taken the Lightning down into the planet’s atmosphere, but the Lightning was tiny, compared to the Killer starship. He wondered, absently, where the Killer starship was going, and then he found himself hoping that it would remain in the system long enough to get caught by the blast. Would their hulls stand up to a supernova?

“We are now entering weapons range,” Gary said. “We can fire on your command.”

Andrew took a breath. They were about to kill an entire planet. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

“Fire.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Lightning shook as the missile was fired, racing down towards the planet below.

“Bring up the Anderson Drive,” Andrew ordered, tightly. “Prepare to jump us out on my command… no, belay that. I want us to be out of here if there is a major eruption. Configure the AI to jump us out of here automatically.”

He watched as the tiny icon raced down towards the gas giant. No one had been able to say just when the weapon would reach critical mass and detonate, or even if it would survive long enough to detonate. The Killers might realise that there was a threat and launch countermeasures, or it might be destroyed by an unexpected natural threat. No one knew that much about conditions inside a Killer gas giant, or even if they differed from other gas giants. There was no way to know for sure.

“I’m picking up low-level RF transmissions, but nothing else,” Gary said, flatly. “I’m not even sure if they’re artificial or natural transmissions. There’s no way to tell if the Killers are on the alert, or if they’re just… natural.”

“Record them anyway,” Andrew ordered. A gas giant was a failed star, to all intents and purposes, and a natural radio source. No one had realised that the Killers inhabited the gas giants because they had always assumed that the radio sources were natural. It suggested that it would be difficult to tell the difference between a, inhabited gas giant and an uninhabited one, unless there was some other way to detect their presence. The Killers could have build cities to rival the greatest cities on Old Earth under the clouds and no one would be any the wiser. “Where’s our weapon?”

“Entering the atmosphere now,” Gary reported. “I’m picking up increased distortions within the atmosphere, but again, it might be natural.”

“I doubt it,” Andrew said. A flare of light, larger than the surface area of Old Earth, flared down amid the gaseous atmosphere. A moment later, another followed it, and another, sending the passive sensors quivering in alarm. Down below, the gas giant was being ripped apart. “Keep watching…”

“Sir, the Killer starship has halted its course,” Gary said, suddenly. “I think it’s noticed that something is badly wrong.”

Another flare of light lit up the entire gas giant. “I think it’s too late,” Andrew said. The radiation flare from the gas giant was constantly increasing. He wouldn’t have wanted to risk taking even a heavily shielded starship any closer, not now that the gas giant was tearing itself apart. “Stand by to get us out of here.”

“New contacts,” Gary snapped, sharply. “I have at least seven Killer starships trying to rise out of the atmosphere, three of unknown design… my God.”

Andrew followed his gaze. Four of the Killer starships were the same traditional design, exactly like the starship that had bombarded Earth into a radioactive nightmare. The remaining three were even larger, massive irregular structures that seemed too large to exist, let alone fly under their own power. The gravimetric sensors were going crazy; the massive ships seemed somehow to bending gravity around them, pushing them away from the planet. The flares of light seemed to reach up towards one of the ships, there was a massive explosion, and the ship vanished.

Andrew didn’t cheer. There was something sobering about watching the Killer cities — he was sure that that was what they were — fighting for life. They weren’t warships, or even vital systems, but civilian habitations, lacking the powerful defences of the Killer starships. The growing waves of destruction would wipe them out before they could escape, even with the help of their escorts — if twenty-kilometre long warships could be termed escorts. He watched in silence as more and more cities broke atmosphere, only to be destroyed by teeming surges of energy. The Killers, for once, were on the run.

“Power surge,” Gary snapped. “I recommend…”

The drive cut in. An instant later, they were halfway across the star system.

* * *

Deep within the gas giant, the weapon finally released the energy it had gained from splitting billions upon billions of atoms, rendering the atmosphere of the gas giant into fuel for its own destruction. It had sucked in the atoms, split them and released half of the energy, which had started a fission effect racing through the entire gas giant at the speed of light. The early surges in energy hadn’t even touched the inner core of the massive planet; now, the fission effect was becoming supercharged. Seconds after the weapon finally lost cohesion and vaporised, the gas giant burned like a new-born star.

A tidal wave of radiation and energy burned through the upper atmosphere and vaporised the remaining Killer installations and free-floating entities. The ships and cities struggling to escape before the planet exploded didn’t stand a chance. The fires reached out for them, enveloped them, and consumed them. The handful of ships that had reached safe ground were still roasted and damaged, leaving some of them to fall back down towards the burning planet. Others, further away, opened wormholes and slipped out of the system completely, fleeing to safer ground, while a handful waited to see if they could salvage anything from the disaster. It was too late to save any of their remaining comrades. The entire planet had been killed.

* * *

“Report,” Andrew snapped. “What happened?”

“The planet blew,” Gary reported. “The sensors read the massive gravity flux and jumped us out before the first waves could reach us. I doubt that we could have survived even at our distance from the planet.”

“Show me,” Andrew ordered. An image appeared in front of them; a new star burning within the system. The planet’s orbiting moons, suddenly washed in a tidal wave of heat, would be melting, perhaps even being pushed out of orbit by the gravity waves echoing out from the dying planet. The rings were already breaking down into vapour as the planet died. They wouldn’t be able to tolerate the heat. “And the Killers?”

“I’m uncertain,” Gary admitted. “There’s so much disruption, even to gravimetric sensors, that it’s hard to tell if any of them survived, or if they escaped. They could open up hundreds of wormholes and we couldn’t be sure of picking them up, not now.”

Andrew nodded. Once, years ago, he had read a semi-serious article suggesting that humans would learn to ignite gas giants to provide their moons with a star. Jupiter’s moons could be made habitable with a little effort and hard work, provided that they got a new source of heat. The early days of the Space Age had been full of all kinds of fantastic schemes, which couldn’t be used even now, for fear of attracting the Killers. Now, if the new star remained stable, perhaps one of those schemes could be put into practice.

“I’m not sure that the new star is remotely stable,” Gary said, when Andrew commented on his thoughts. “The fission effect is burning up its mass at an astonishing rate. If it doesn’t stabilise soon, it’ll burn itself out and probably turn into a dead star, or something along the same lines.”

“With a lot of dead Killers,” Andrew said, slowly. The destruction had proved beyond all doubt that the Killers had infested that planet, and perhaps the other gas giants in the system. It was time to complete the mission. It was tempting to declare an end to the mission and leave the star alone, but they were committed now. “Send an update along the secure channel to the Admiral, and then take us in towards the star.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. The starship tilted slightly and raced towards the system primary. The gravity waves emitting from the gas giant hadn’t had any effect on the local star, although Andrew hadn’t expected that they would. Nothing short of a supernova bomb or a black hole would affect the primary; even a Killer starship would vaporise if it dived right into the star. There were all kinds of schemes for using warp fields to survive within the star’s atmosphere, but Andrew doubted that they would work in the long run. A single power failure and the entire complex would vaporise. No one would even know what had happened…

“We have a contact,” Gary snapped. “I have one Killer starship on a direct intercept course.”

“Evasive action,” Andrew ordered, watching the new icon gaining on them rapidly. It looked… angry. There had never been a sense of any emotion from the Killers before, but now… he suspected that the Killers had simply never been hurt so badly before. “David, confirm; how long until we reach the best firing position?”

“Seven minutes,” David reported. “We can be there instantly with the Anderson Drive.”

“Perhaps not,” Gary said. “The gravity waves from the dying planet are making it much harder to calculate jumps. The Killer starship will be in firing range… ah.”

The Killer starship fired a single burst of white fire. It raced towards the Lightning at two hundred times the speed of light and barely missed as David took evasive action.

“Now, it seems,” Gary said, with gallows humour. “It seems that we underestimated the range on their weapons.”

Andrew had a more pertinent question. “How the hell do they project that energy faster than light?”

“Unknown,” Gary said, “but I think they’re mad. I’ve got two more Killer starships on intercept vectors.”

“Keep taking evasive action,” Andrew ordered, as the Killer starships drew closer. They seemed to have no problems pacing the Lightning, even threatening overrun her, but they seemed to be almost… fearful, as if they didn’t want to get too close. It was the only thing that saved the starship from certain destruction. If the Killers had closed to point-blank range, they could have picked her off or even rammed her with ease. “Gary?”

“Two minutes to best firing range,” Gary said. He paused. “Sir, the Killers might intercept the missile.”

“True,” Andrew agreed. He’d planned to flee the moment the missile was launched — no one in their right mind would want to be close to a supernova — but Gary was right. They would have to run cover for the missile, even at the risk of their lives. “Load torpedo bays, charge weapons.”

“Weapons online, sir,” Gary said. He didn’t question the order aloud, but Andrew knew that he was questioning the wisdom of that decision. Their weapons wouldn’t even scratch the Killer hull. “Targets locked.”

“Fire a full spread of noisemakers just before you fire the supernova bomb,” Andrew ordered. “Stand by…”

The star grew larger in the display, a ball of nuclear fire beaming out light and life to the entire star system. Without the Killers, perhaps it would have shone on an empire of humanity. Instead, Andrew had come to slay it for giving aid and comfort to the enemy. The Killer starships were holding their course, keeping their distance…

“Fire,” Andrew ordered.

“Noisemakers away,” Gary confirmed. “Supernova bomb armed, primed… and away.”

“Take us back towards them,” Andrew snapped. “Helm, take us right down their fucking throats.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” David said. The Lightning heeled rapidly and turned around to face the Killers. A moment later, David triggered the warp drive and the starship raced towards the massive ships. “One minute to close approach.”

“Keep taking evasive action,” Andrew snapped. “Gary, open fire with warp missiles. Make them think we’re trying to take them out with a Cochrane Twist.”

The starship shuddered as it unleashed another spread of missiles. Andrew watched as the missiles closed the distance within seconds, the Killers still firing their mysterious weapons… and then they locked onto the missiles instead. The warp missiles, coming in on a predictable trajectory, were picked off one by one before they could reach their targets.

“They’re reacting to us,” Andrew breathed. No one was sure if a Cochrane Twist was even possible against Killer starships moving at FTL speeds, using their own FTL drive, but the Killers seemed to believe it was possible. Who knew? They might even have been right. They presumably knew their drive better than the humans knew theirs. “They’re reacting to us…”

The two starships closed rapidly and then they were past the Killer starship, racing out into interstellar space. “Fire the remaining noisemakers,” Andrew ordered, tightly. If they could delay the Killers long enough to keep them near the star, the supernova would shake their confidence forever. “What’s happening to the star?”

“I’m picking up massive gravity waves,” David reported, as the Killer starships turned slowly to continue the pursuit. They hadn’t realised that the star was about to explode. “I think she’s about to blow!”

“Get us out of here,” Andrew snapped. There was no more time to waste. “Now!”

* * *

Although Andrew and his crew were unaware of it, the second supernova bomb was actually based on early warp drive technology, which compressed space to allow FTL travel. Wrapped inside a warp bubble that provided protection against the heat and fury of the outraged star, the missile sank ever deeper into the photosphere, sucking in and compressing material as it fell. Instead of causing a rapid fission reaction, the missile was compressing more and more mass into the warp bubble, disrupting the star’s fusion reaction. The reaction rapidly destabilised and raced out of control. The missile eventually lost power and vaporised in the heat of the star, but it was too late. The supernova reaction was underway.

The first massive eruption occurred just minutes after the missile entered the star, but it was only the beginning. The star’s collapse was already well beyond salvation, or any form of cure. The rushing tide of matter, pulled down by the growing gravity well at the heart of the star, only fuelled the reaction. The explosion was only a matter of time. Seven minutes after the missile had struck home, the star exploded, pouring a wave of destructive energy out into the system.

Nothing near the star stood a chance. The two closest Killer starships were vaporised instantly, despite their hull protection. The third was lucky; caught by the blast, it was tossed across the system instead of being vaporised. The damage was more than enough to destroy the starship’s integrity. The planets near the star were roasted by the expanding blast wave, which vaporised asteroids, comets and any other space debris in the system. The gas giants were literally blown away. The Killer settlements inside the remaining gas giants were smashed beyond repair. The entire star system had been devastated.

* * *

Lightning shuddered as it came out of the jump and stabilised, ten light years away from the supernova.

“Report,” Andrew ordered, grimly. Red icons were flashing all over the ship status board, but as they watched, one by one the icons faded away as the ship’s AI directed repairs. “What happened?”

“The star is definitely gone,” Gary reported. He worked his console for a long moment. “The gravity shockwaves are already spilling out over hundreds of light years. Anyone with a gravimetric sensor will know that the star exploded, although they may not know the cause…”

“They will, sir,” David put in. “The star wasn’t of a type to go supernova. It would probably have collapsed into a white dwarf or expanded into a red giant, not a supernova. I suspect that the secret is very definitely out, sir.”

“I’ll mention it to the Admiral,” Andrew said, dryly. “And the Killers?”

“If they came after us, they lost us,” Gary said. Andrew smiled tiredly at the confidence in his voice. “There are no Killer starships within the limits of detectable space.”

“Transmit an update to the Admiral,” Andrew said, thinking hard. If the system had been washed by a supernova, there might be all kinds of damaged Killer technology they could salvage, given time. The cities inside the gas giants were probably beyond recovery, but the starships might have been damaged, yet still mostly intact. “And then… take us back into the system.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. The noise of the drive rapidly reached a crescendo. “Jumping now.”

The system looked very different from before the supernova had detonated. Andrew realised. There was a massive expanding cloud of gas racing out of the system and smaller concentrations racing away from the gas giants. The worlds, including one that might have been Earth-like with some modifications, were charred rubble. The asteroid belts and most of the moons were completely gone. The star itself looked as if it was dying, although most of the debris would probably eventually recombine into something. The blast hadn’t been powerful enough to completely destroy the star. The chunks of stellar matter might even be usable. The gas giant that had received the first device was a blackened ruin. It was unlikely that there was anything for the humans to salvage there.

“Contact,” Gary snapped, suddenly. Andrew felt himself jerking upright as the display rapidly updated. Nothing — nothing — mortal could have survived a supernova. Had the Killers somehow ridden the tidal waves and survived? “I have… one Killer starship, heading… sir, I think it’s drifting.”

“A trap,” David said, nervously. He’d been pushed to the limit. They all had. “They knew we’d return and waited for us.”

“Show me,” Andrew ordered. The image appeared in front of him. The Killer starship wasn’t waiting for them, or even repairing itself; it was tumbling helplessly through space, turning end over end constantly. He checked its course and realised that it was drifting towards interstellar space, unless it intersected one of the gas giants first. There were no power readings at all. Even the starship they’d captured had had low-level power readings, but whatever powered the stricken starship was completely lost. “Contact the Admiral and tell him that we have a damaged starship here for recovery and an entire star system to study.”

He chuckled, suddenly, as they raced towards the derelict. “Whatever else happens,” he said, “the Killers will never forget this day.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“My God,” Paula Handley breathed. “Just… look at it.”

The tiny transport had been gliding towards the ruined Killer starship for over an hour, yet she already felt overwhelmed by its immensity. It was the same, on the surface, as the starship she had helped capture, but it was clearly wounded and beyond repair. Great rents and gashes tore at the hull, leaving it exposed to the coldness of space. The eerie nebula-like glow of the murdered star cast strange shimmers of light over the black hull, half-convincing her that it was still alive. The advancing robotic probes, controlled directly by Technicals from a very safe distance, had already vanished against the hull. She only knew they were there from her HUD.

“Never mind that,” Captain Chris Kelsey said, through their private communications channel. He hadn’t been too pleased at having been drawn away from Star’s End and sent to the dead star system, but Paula suspected that he found the sight inspiring. It was proof that humans could kill entire Killer starships, even if the collateral damage was a little high. “What the hell did they do to the star?”

Paula shrugged. Unlike the Footsoldiers, she had a good background in stellar manipulation — at least in theory, since proper experiments were banned — and she had a fairly good idea how the supernova bombs had worked. It was something she had been warned, in no uncertain terms, never to discuss, although she was fairly sure that the information wouldn’t remain a secret forever. The more… isolated Community asteroids had their own scientists and access to humanity’s vast database of scientific knowledge. It wouldn’t take them long to deduce the operating principles of the supernova bomb and, if they accomplished that, they would be halfway to building their own. The hell of it was that Paula suspected that that wouldn’t be a bad idea. If every human settlement started building more supernova bombs, they’d be able to wipe out most of the known Killer star systems before they learned how to counter the tactic, or decided to complete humanity’s destruction.

But the politicians and the Defence Force commanders evidently didn’t agree with her. Her combat suit reported the presence of two full attack wings of Defence Force destroyers — a hundred and forty-four starships — as well as hundreds of survey probes and support ships. Only a handful of actual researchers, including herself, would be going into the Killer starship, but thousands more would be watching through the communications network. They’d soon start trying to issue orders to the people on the scene, as if they were nothing more than automated robots, but until then, Paula would be happy. It was all there for her to examine and learn how it worked.

She glanced down at the diagram from Star’s End, pasted over the view through her suit’s visor. The researchers were slowly unlocking the secrets behind Killer science, although there was still a long way to go, but they had mapped out most of the nooks and crannies in the captured starship. Assuming that the Killers had created all of their starships according to the same plans, they would be able to find their way around fairly easily, perhaps even find damaged components that the researchers would want to dismantle. The captured starship was unique — in theory, it was still in working order, if anyone could figure out the flight controls — but the broken starship could be taken apart at leisure. Paula couldn’t wait to get her hands dirty.

“Hey,” one of the Footsoldiers said. “Are you sure that this thing is dead?”

“As sure as we can be,” Chris said, flatly. They’d discussed it at some length before they’d slipped out into interplanetary space and ghosted towards the damaged starship. A human ship that had taken such damage would very definitely be dead — the crew would have uploaded themselves to the MassMind or died on the ship — but no one knew how resilient the internal structure of the starship would be. The Killers might already be using their nanotech to rebuild the ship, or another starship might arrive at any moment to recover the broken ship. “Take nothing for granted and watch your backs.”

Paula smiled, inwardly, as they began the long fall towards the Killer starship’s hull. There were researchers, even now, screaming their outrage that the first team onboard the captured starship included Footsoldiers, rather than additional researchers or their support staff. A year ago, Paula might have agreed, but after nearly being killed on the other starship, she was glad to have the Footsoldiers along. If the starship was just nearly dead, as opposed to actually being deceased, the Footsoldiers would be able to complete the job of killing it. Researchers or scientists would probably be killed by the same automatons that had threatened her life, two weeks ago. They certainly wouldn’t learn anything from the experience.

“Contact in ten seconds,” Chris said. “Nine… eight…”

Paula felt her suit jerk slightly as they touched down on the hull and broke through it. The hull shattered like ice, sending the team crashing through into the internal levels, filling the channels with random chatter as the shocked humans responded to the new threat. Everyone knew that Killer hull material was effectively impregnable; nothing short of a supernova would damage or destroy it. The fifteen men and women of the first exploration team had crashed through it as if it were made of fake glass. Shreds of former hull material crashed down around them.

“Keep it calm,” Chris snapped, sharply. “Paula; environmental statistics?”

Paula blinked, but complied, realising that it would help keep the team calm. “Only a tiny gravity field and a complete vacuum,” she reported. The mists they’d seen on the captured vessel had probably been blown into space or ignited by the fury of the supernova. It wouldn’t have mattered in any case. The mists were hardly a breathable atmosphere. “No local power signatures, but considerable amounts of hard radiation. Check your suits.”

She followed her own advice and checked the suit’s status. The Armoured Combat Suits could tolerate considerable degrees of radiation, and their internal nanites could heal any minor damage, but a long stay wasn’t recommended. The suit’s internal systems decided that three hours would be fairly safe, although they did warn that further exposure could prove deadly. Humans were engineered to be resistant to radiation, unless they were baseline humans from a religious sect that disapproved of such engineering, but there were limits. At some point, even the most perfect human form began to break down.

“All right,” Chris said. “We have two hours on this hulk. Deploy probes.”

Paula touched a control in her suit and launched a spread of tiny probes, which raced deeper into the ship, allowing them to chart out its interior. The damaged starship was awash in considerably more hard radiation deeper within the hull — it dawned on her, suddenly, that some of the radiation must have been funnelled into the heart of the starship by the armour — but the probes could go where no human could follow. There were also bursts of odd emissions further into the starship, although none of them seemed to be as… focused as any on the captured ship. The starship might be dead, she decided finally, but it was still bleeding out.

“Probes deployed, sir,” the Sergeant said, finally. “It doesn’t match.”

“No,” Paula agreed. It had only taken a minute to confirm that the interior of this ship was very different to the interior of the captured ship. Paula wasn’t entirely surprised. The Killers could manipulate matter and energy on levels humans could only dream of and it would have been simple to redesign the entire starship on a whim. There were humans who lost themselves within AI worlds, but the Killers were almost god-like; they didn’t need dreams to give them delusions of grandeur. They had enough power to dismantle half the galaxy.

“Just great,” Chris said. “Very well; team one, with me. Team two; follow Gavin.”

“Yes, sir,” Gavin said. “You lot; follow me.”

Paula found herself at the back as the Footsoldiers advanced carefully into the interior of the starship. Part of her wanted to be at the front, seeing everything as it just appeared, but the rest of her mind decided that the rear was probably safer, even though she was confident that the starship was dead. The captured ship still gave her the creeps — she was convinced that it was watching her and the remaining humans on some level — but this one was as dead as Earth itself. The interior was dark, lit only by flares of light as power cells discharged or glowed with radiation, giving it an almost spooky air. She was just relieved that there were no mists. That would have been almost intolerable.

“The gravity field comes directly from the mass of the starship,” she said, aloud. It was somehow easier to vocalise her thoughts. “It’s not caused by the starship’s power source.”

“Ah, the power source,” Chris said coldly. “Are you and your fellow researchers going to let us in on the big secret?”

“It’s not my decision,” Paula admitted. The research team had cracked that particular secret, only to find themselves confronting a thousand more questions. They knew what the Killers did, but how? “We do need to get down towards the rear of the starship, sir; we have to know if the power source is still there… ah, still online.”

Chris said nothing, but she knew he’d caught her slip. The Footsoldiers were far from stupid; they probably guessed the truth. It had been evident to her ever since their first encounter with the captured Killer starship, but humans being humans, the other researchers hadn’t wanted to believe her. It spoke volumes about just how advanced the Killers actually were, or how likely it was that they could track their lost starship to Star’s End.

“I found a column, sir,” one of the Footsoldiers said. “It looks to be dead.”

Paula stepped over to the column and scanned it. The amount of radiation inside the column shocked her and she stepped back automatically. Suit or no suit, if she stepped inside, she’d be dead within seconds. It was weird. The transparent unit had held part of the Killer controlling the starship, yet it hadn’t provided any protection against the deluge of radiation that had struck and disabled the starship. It made no particular sense to her, but at least it confirmed that the Killer was well and truly dead. The researchers suspected that the Killers would be far more tolerant of radiation than modified humans, but even their cells would be killed by such a flux. She almost felt sorry for the creature. It had died alone, far from home, after watching the planets it was supposed to be protecting torn apart by human technology.

And then she remembered how many humans had died at Killer hands and shook her head. The Killer had deserved to die, hadn’t it? Whatever had caused their insane crusade against all other races, there was no doubt that they had vaporised thousands starships and slaughtered hundreds of entire worlds. If humanity was the only race to survive their attentions, it spoke volumes about just how effective their campaign had been. How many races had been destroyed by the Killers? Did even they know how many they had killed?

“Leave it,” Chris said, shortly. “We have to get down to the power source.”

Paula dismissed the HUD display of the captured Killer starship as she moved further down towards the heart of the disabled ship. It was only confusing her mind and she couldn’t take many more deviations from the other ship. Instead, she watched as the radiation levels kept rising and falling, studying the burned-out components and corridors they were passing through, shaking her head in awe. The Killer starship should have been vaporised. Instead, it had barely survived — no, she corrected herself; it was still dead. It was not beyond salvage, perhaps, but it was definitely dead. If it had survived the supernova…

She remembered the images the Lightning had recorded, the massive Killer cities floating up, trying to reach clear space before their planet exploded below them. The Killers had an awesomely effective launch system, or so Captain Ramage had believed, but Paula suspected now that she knew how it worked. The weird radiation emissions from the dead planet confirmed it, even though the supernova wavefront had blown much of the burning gas into space. The Killers didn’t use drive fields. The Killers used…

The thought vanished from her mind as they stepped through the control centre of the ship. It was the first compartment of the new ship that was identical to the old and she felt a flash of Déjà vu, remembering how she’d killed the Killer and saved the entire team from being wiped out by the Killer automatons. The radiation detectors sounded the warning before they stepped into the compartment; there was enough radiation irradiating the interior to kill them all within minutes. Chris led them away from the compartment, slowly finding a new way around the radiation and down deeper into the starship, leaving Paula to muse on what had killed the alien. It was almost as if the Killer had tried to suck in the radiation and had overdone it… or had it meant to commit suicide? There was no way to know.

She found herself pulling up the diagrams of the captured starship again as they advanced down into the rear, preceded by the drones. This compartment was far more standard, although there were still odd differences. Very few of them seemed to make sense, at least to her, yet she had the feeling that if she had enough time to study them, she would understand what the Killers had been thinking. They stopped, weapons snapping into position, as they encountered one of the Killer automatons, but the device ignored them. It was trying to repair part of the ship, Paula realised, yet it was completely alone. The task would take it centuries.

Chris pointed a plasma cannon at its heart. “Should I?”

“Take it out,” Paula agreed. The automaton could become dangerous very quickly, or so she explained. “It’s only going to become a danger to us.”

Chris pulled the trigger and a searing burst of white light blew the automaton apart. “Got it,” he said. She heard the smile in his voice and rolled her eyes. There was no real skill involved in hitting an unmoving target at point-blank range. “I love having the plasma cannons back.”

“Don’t get used to them,” someone said, over the open channel. His voice was vague and slightly amused, as if he were joking to avoid the tension. “I heard a rumour that we might be sent to board more starships, with the same weird atmosphere and no plasma weapons.”

“Nonsense,” another Footsoldier put in. He sounded very definite. “I heard that they’re going to work on finding a way to ignite their atmosphere and blow the ship up. Hey, Paula, would that actually work?”

“We don’t know,” Paula said, finally. Truthfully, she had no idea if the idea had even been considered, but she suspected that the Killer starships were more robust than that. The detonation of their atmosphere might hurt, but probably not kill, unless some of the more interesting theories were accurate and the mists were actually part of a Killer mind. “We’d have to try it and find out.”

“Knock it off,” Chris snapped. His voice had become tense again. The other Footsoldiers sobered quickly. “We’re coming up to the power core now.”

Paula nodded, checking her internal sensors for possible dangers. The Killers had armoured their power cores with enough armour to contain a nuclear explosion, or perhaps even an antimatter strike. It suggested that they were worried about the dangers of losing power, for the armour alone would add to their mass and cost them additional power to drive the starship to its destination, but Paula — for once — could understand their logic. Losing control of the power core would almost certainly destroy the ship. She was happy to see the disabled ship, but… it should have been destroyed.

“I’m picking up low-level power readings,” one of the Footsoldiers said. Paula quietly confirmed his results, checking to ensure that the power surges posed no actual danger. It didn’t seem likely. There was barely enough power to light a match. The remaining power had been expended. “They seem to be on standby, or powering down. I’m not sure what they are and… I’m getting some very odd readings concerning the interior of the core.”

Chris looked over at her, his face hidden behind the black armour. “Well?”

“Give me a minute,” Paula said, examining the shielding surrounding the core. It was cracked and broken, bearing mute testament to the forces that had been unleashed in the starship’s hellish final moments. The power levels required to crack that shielding were nothing short of astonishing. “Here… no, stay back.”

She stepped forward, carefully, and peered beyond the shielding. Unyielding blackness looked back at her, yet when she activated her suit’s illumination and shone lights into the darkness, it revealed a vast spherical chamber, empty apart from strange distortions in the air. She ran a quick measurement with her suits sensors and concluded that the distortions were fading away along with the power readings. The Killer’s automated servants had saved the wrecked ship from complete destruction by pushing the power core out of reality, leaving it for the human race to salvage. They probably wouldn’t appreciate the humour of it.

“All right,” Chris said, angrily. He’d reached the end of his willingness to accept her silence… and she could understand his point. “No more games. What the hell is that thing?”

Paula suppressed an insane urge to giggle.

“Well,” she said, finally. “Not very long ago, Chris, it was a black hole.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Are we there yet?”

Private Ron Friedman sighed inwardly. It wasn’t part of a Footsoldier’s job to deal with small children and Mary, the young girl sitting on his armoured lap, was smaller than most. He rather suspected that she thought he was actually a robot, rather than a man wearing an Armoured Combat Suit; after all, he hadn’t dared crack the suit open for the entire week he’d spent onboard the Family Farm. The suit’s automated scrubbers were doing a grand job of keeping him reasonably clean and active, but he was grimly aware that when he did open the suit, he was going to stink the starship out.

That said, the Family Farm didn’t smell very good at all, at least according to Virginia Basil. The hatchet-faced woman — Ron would have said she had a face like a bum seen sideways, apart from the fact he had been brought up never to speak ill of a lady — had been complaining about each and every thing since they had fled the Asimov System, just ahead of the advancing Killer blitzkrieg. The small freighter was rated for carrying ten passengers at most, but their desperation had led the evacuation coordinator to pack over fifty children and teenagers — along with two armoured soldiers — into the starship. The over-design of the ship’s life support system could tolerate it, barely, but the ship wasn’t designed to carry so many comfortably. It was impossible to find any real privacy on the vessel; indeed, Ron was privately concerned about accidentally hurting or killing one of the kids with his armoured suit. The Footsoldiers had more than their fair share of training accidents and a person without a comparable suit would crack like an eggshell if he walked into them. It had contributed to the tension of the journey…

Which hadn’t been helped by the fact that there was no destination in mind. The evacuation coordinator had been more focused on getting them out of the system than finding a place for them to go, so they had ended up at the O’Neal System, which had promptly ordered them to proceed onwards to a different system. Ron had found it hard to blame them — there were only a dozen asteroid settlements in the system and they were already overwhelmed with refugees — but Captain Basil and his wife had bitched their asses off. The next system had said the same, despite their angry protests, although they had provided additional food and water supplies. The Family Farm’s internal food processors had never been intended to feed so many.

“Not yet,” Ron said, tiredly. The Footsoldiers had been trained to spend months, if necessary, inside their suits, yet no one enjoyed the experience. He was tempted to crack the suit open for a while, smell or no smell, but he didn’t trust Captain Basil in the slightest. The only advantage the two Footsoldiers had was the armour. If they climbed out of it, he wouldn’t have put it past Basil to kill the pair of them, before ejecting them and the kids into space. Captain Basil had bitched almost as much as his bitch of a wife. “I don’t know when we’ll be there.”

Some of the kids, at least, still thought that it was a great adventure, but the older ones knew better. The links to the Galactic Communications network had been weakened badly by the destruction, yet they had been able to establish that many of the children were suddenly orphans. Most of them were complete orphans; their parents hadn’t even been able to upload themselves into the MassMind before the Killers destroyed their homes. Ron didn’t know what they were going to do with the kids. It wasn’t as if they could take the Family Farm to another galaxy and set up a new homeworld there.

“We just got fobbed off from another asteroid,” Captain Basil snapped, coming over to glare down at Ron’s armoured visor. Ron, who had been fighting off the temptation to simply take the Captain’s head in his armoured hand and squeeze hard, scowled at him. He knew that the blank visor would show nothing of his expression to the increasingly frustrated Captain. “How much longer are they going to make us wait?”

“As long as it takes,” Ron said, as calmly as he could. The augmentation that made a Footsoldier helped him to keep his voice calm, even though the frustration was getting to him as well. He wanted to get out there and get stuck into the Killers, who had slaughtered his friends and comrades, even though he knew that it would be almost-certain death. It would be better than babysitting an untrustworthy Captain and fifty kids, even if some of the teenage girls were real stunners. “We have enough resources to cruise for years if we have no other choice.”

“I will not stand for that,” Captain Basil said. “I didn’t sign up to keep my ship at the Community’s disposal for years.”

Ron felt his temper flare. Legally, the Captain was right; the Community lacked the ability to force compliance from its member settlements. Apart from the Defence Force, which was the only arm of enforcement the Community possessed, there was little binding the various settlements together. The settlements guarded their independence jealously and often competed against each other almost as much as they competed against the Killers. Some even turned rogue and opposed their fellow humans, others isolated themselves from the remainder of the Community and refused all contact. There was no way to force them to open themselves to the Community…

But Ron had a card the Captain couldn’t beat. “You signed up to the general protocols when you worked within the Community,” he said. “You had the legal obligation to help with the rescue effort, which you did. You will help us to find them a safe place to stay and then you can fly to the other side of the universe if you want.”

He allowed his voice to harden. “And if you keep pushing us, we will lock you and your wife in your cabin and take control of the ship directly,” he added. “I have obligations to the kids as well.”

“Don’t fight,” Mary said, before Basil could answer. “You’re both adults. You shouldn’t fight.”

“One week,” Basil hissed. “You’d better find them somewhere within one week.”

He stalked off before Ron could say anything in return, so he returned to his direct link to the Footsoldier network. It was almost like being AWOL, in a sense; other Footsoldiers were fighting and dying, while he was on a starship that was safe, if very isolated. The direct link to the network was online, barely, but there seemed to be nowhere to go.

A new message blinked up in the inbox and he allowed himself a sigh of relief. “Captain,” he said, carefully lowering Mary to the ground and standing up, armour and all, “we have a message from the Defence Force and new coordinates for delivery.”

“And then I’ll be rid of you?” Basil asked. “You’re going to be off my ship?”

“Oh, probably,” Ron said, mentally crossing his fingers behind his back. The report he intended to file would probably cost the Captain most of his future earnings. The Community might scrabble from time to time, often over the pettiest of things, but no one would feel inclined to tolerate a person refusing to help out people in trouble. An asteroid settlement was no place for selfishness. The population would understand not risking ones life, but Basil hadn’t been in any danger. Hell, statistically, the children would have been safer on his ship than on any asteroid settlement. “Might I suggest that you set course at once?”

The Family Farm had a fairly primitive form of the Anderson Drive. It was still astonishingly fast by the standards of Warp Drive, or whatever the Killers used for their FTL travel, but it took it nearly an hour to jump into a system orbiting a dull red star. When they finally arrived, Ron was astonished by how much firepower was orbiting the star and its handful of settlements, enough Defence Force starships to lay waste entire star systems. It would still be almost useless against the Killers, he reflected. They might as well have thrown rotten eggs at the enemy starships.

“There are hundreds of warships here,” Captain Basil muttered, angrily. “Where were they when my home system was under attack?”

Ron didn’t bother to reply. Defence Force starships had stood and fought at Asimov and died winning time for the evacuation. There would have been no change in the end result if the other starships were thrown into hopeless battle; it was better to hold them in reserve and use them, if necessary, as a scouting and evacuation force. It was a grim conclusion, in a way; humanity had advanced so far, yet they were still little more than ants swarming around the Killers feet.

“Take us in,” he said, finally. Docking information was beginning to scroll up on the main display, pointing them towards a massive asteroid some distance from the others. He was starting to wonder why the Defence Force had steered them here, of all places, before he saw the other refugee ships. There were few other places that could take so many people in a hurry. In time, the refugees would be distributed out throughout the community. “I would strongly advise you not to deviate. This isn’t a safe place at the best of times and trigger fingers are getting itchy.”

Basil muttered under his breath, but started to key in instructions to the starship’s computer core. It had amused Ron when he’d seen him for the first time; Basil was a starship Captain, with all that that implied, yet he couldn’t or wouldn’t control his starship directly. The starship AI was probably considerably smarter than its commanding officer. It could certainly handle the job of docking with the asteroid and assisting the Footsoldiers to move the children into safer hands. In fact…

His train of thought changed rapidly as the alarm sounded. Space was warping only a few thousand kilometres from their position. He knew what that meant even before the wormhole started to materialise in open space, revealing a very familiar starship design.

“They tracked us here,” Captain Basil said, sheer terror blanching his face. The Killer starship slid smoothly out of the wormhole, its mere presence sending gravity waves racing across the system. “God damn you; you led them here.”

“Quiet,” Ron said, although he was almost equally alarmed. There would be no fight against an equal opponent, only a slaughter. The Killers would probably swat the Family Farm without even noticing them. An AI — if they had AIs — would take the shot and blow the starship into atoms. “Power down the main sensors. I want us to be a rock in space.”

“No,” Captain Basil snapped. “Computer; power up the main drive and jump us out here on a random vector, now!”

“Unable to comply,” the AI said, its smoothly modulated voice somehow clashing with the growing panic of its commander. The AI’s personality overlays had been scaled back to the bare minimum. “The gravity distortion is preventing the formation of a stable Anderson Field.”

“Get us out of here,” Captain Basil repeated. “I want to be away from that thing!”

“Unable to comply,” the AI said. It showed no hint of awareness that they were about to die. “The alien starship is in a position to intercept us regardless of our exit trajectory.”

Ron reached out with one armoured hand and clutched Basil’s neck, lifting him up into the air with ease. “Power down the drive and float like a rock,” he ordered, hoping that the AI would pick up on his commands. The suit could probably hack into the AI, but that would take time, time they probably didn’t have. The Killer starship could hit them at any moment, even though it wasn’t firing or being fired upon. It was just… looming. Its daunting presence was dominating the entire system, mocking the human race by its very existence. “Do it, now!”

“Complying,” the AI said. The lights faded slightly as main power was taken offline. “Drive field disengaged; helm and other systems powered down. We are now on a ballistic course towards Patton Asteroid.”

Ron turned and stared out into space. The Killer starship was so large that he could see it even with the naked eye. It still wasn’t firing.

“Put me down,” Captain Basil protested. He was both pleading and cringing, desperate for reassurance and protection. Ron could offer neither. “What do we do now?”

“We wait,” Ron said. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

* * *

“All hands to battlestations,” the AI’s voice thundered. “All hands to battlestations! Condition Red; I repeat, Condition Red. This is not a drill. All hands to battlestations!”

“Belay that,” Admiral Brent Roeder snarled. Any human force could have been fought on even terms. The only way to take out the Killer starship would have been to blow up the star and accept mutual destruction. “Get the evacuation underway; I want everyone, but critical staff on the emergency starships and out of here before the shit hits the fan.”

He turned back to the main display and bared his teeth, studying the Killer starship dominating the Sparta System, the sight he had dreaded since he had assumed his position. The Defence Force was decentralised, but the loss of Sparta and the starships assigned to its defence — to say nothing of the cadre of trained personnel — would hurt, badly. The Killers, either by accident or design, had hit on one of the few vital systems in the Community.

“Evacuation underway,” Captain Waianae assured him. She was a dark-skinned young lady with rare promise as a tactical coordinator, although she hadn’t proven suited to shipboard life. She would never hold a field command, but Brent had come to depend on her and her fellows to assist him in coordinating the evacuation effort. There were thousands of starships, crammed with refugees out among the stars, all of which needed to be sent to safe harbour. Nowhere was safe these days. “Sir…”

Brent nodded. It would take nearly an hour to evacuate even one of the asteroids, an hour they probably wouldn’t have. The Killer starship wasn’t even out of range; if the live feed from the Lightning had been accurate, it could pick off his asteroids from where it was, without even coming closer to the Defence Force.

“The fleet’s requesting orders,” Lieutenant Windsor said. “They’re standing by to engage.”

Brent looked back at the Killer ship. “Order them to hold their fire,” he said, slowly. The Killer starship was just looking at them; somehow, he was sure that it was scanning the base, looking for… what? Only one thing came to mind, but there were no supernova bombs in the Sparta System. It was restricted space, but it was still too public… and, of course, human rules meant nothing to the Killers. “Can you tell if it’s scanning us?”

“Unknown,” the AI said, flatly. Its voice was cold and hard. “If the Killers are scanning us, they are not using any technology that we are capable of detecting. There are no emissions from the craft, as far as we can tell; it’s not even radiating the standard RF transmissions.”

“Repeat the command,” Brent said, staring at the Killer craft as if it were a personal enemy. “I want them to hold their firepower. Let them fire the first shot.”

The minutes ticked past slowly. Brent could feel trickles of sweat running down his back. The whole scene was inhumanly still. The Killer starship was just sitting there, watching them. It made no hostile move, but its baleful present loomed over the entire star system, holding the humans hypnotised by its sheer immensity. Brent was only vaguely aware of messages flooding in from elsewhere, starships offering to rally to the defence of Sparta, or even assisting in the evacuation program. The starship seemed to draw in all of his attention. It was impossible to look away.

“I’m picking up low-level power emissions from the enemy ship,” the AI said. There was a long pause. “I am unable to determine exactly what the Killers are trying to accomplish.”

“They’re trying to scare hell out of us,” Captain Waianae said, grimly. Her dark face was shining with sweat. Brent had a sudden mental image of how he must look flashing in front of his eyes and he almost smiled. “They’re succeeding.”

“Remain calm,” Brent said. The priority communications channel was lighting up, informing him that the President and the remainder of the War Council were watching the display, but he chose not to speak to them. What could he have said? “Let them make the first move?”

He felt his heartbeat racing frantically inside his chest, despite the best efforts of his augmentation. After the destroyed star… were the Killers trying to communicate?

“Analyse their emissions,” he ordered, slowly. “Are they capable of carrying communication signals?”

“Uncertain,” the AI reported. “They do not correspond with any known or theorised communications system.”

“Gravity spike,” Lieutenant Windsor snapped, suddenly. “They’re opening a wormhole!”

“Keep the fleet back,” Brent ordered. His mind was racing; could they — should they — try to reply? If there was a chance to open communications, it had to be taken, whatever the risk. “Communications, attempt to…”

The wormhole flared into existence. A moment later, the Killer starship was gone, leaving no trace of its passing.

Brent ran his hands through his sweaty hair. “Stand down from battle stations,” he ordered, finally. The tension in the compartment refused to face. They had known that they were about to die, that all they could do was kick and scratch on the way to the gallows, and somehow they had been granted a reprieve. “Now… what the hell was all that about?”

No one had an answer.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“And then they just vanished?”

Tabitha Cunningham would have refused to believe it, had it not been confirmed by multiple sources. The War Cabinet had gathered to watch — they expected — Sparta’s last stand against the Killers. Instead, the Killer starship had stared at the human settlements and then opened a wormhole, leaving the humans behind. It was utterly out of character for the Killers; they came, they saw and they destroyed. They never ran, they never fled from human defences… until now.

“Yes,” Brent said, shortly. The Admiral looked relieved. “They just left us alone.”

His voice tightened suddenly. “It’s been seventy-two hours since they departed Sparta and, in that time, there had been no new attacks. Their blitzkrieg against the Community seems to have been terminated.”

The President leaned forward. “Terminated how?” She demanded. “Were they scared of us, or were they merely terminating their offensive anyway, even before we blew up one of their stars?”

“And were they actually trying to communicate?” Father Sigmund put in. “If we actually managed to bring them to the negotiation table, shouldn’t we be trying to follow up on the contact?”

“We’re uncertain,” Brent admitted. His own voice hardened. “If they were attempting to communicate, their communications systems were completely different to ours; if there were an intelligent signal in their emissions, we were unable to detect or understand it. Their communications systems may be completely incompatible with our own. We would have been able to talk to the Ghosts, if any were still alive, but the Killers are another story. The bottom line is that we simply do not know.

“We also don’t know what they’re doing now,” he continued. “Before their offensive began, we had starships tracking over five hundred of their vessels, keeping us updated on their movements. Most of those ships either turned on their shadows and destroyed them, or opened wormholes and left their companions eating their dust. We are currently only tracking a handful of their craft and we don’t know where the remainder have gone. The only thing we can say with any certainty is that they’re not in any system we have under constant observation.”

“And so we have a pause in the storm,” Patti said. The President looked grimly relieved; Tabitha rather felt for her. She had been President herself during the early years following the destruction of Earth, but Patti had presided over the worst series of disasters in Community history. The only bright side was that they had proof that the Killers were not invincible after all. “I assume that you have issued orders to avoid further confrontation, if possible?”

“Perhaps,” Brent said. “It may not be our choice. The Killers generally decide if they want to open hostilities, or not. The only real weapon we have is the supernova bomb and… well, stockpiles are limited.”

Tabitha nodded, keeping her expression blank. The onrushing Killer offensive had neglected the argument in favour of keeping the weapon a secret while building up a massive stockpile and hitting every Killer star system at once, but the end results didn’t sit well with her. They had slaughtered an entire star system and God alone knew how many Killers, but they had no way of knowing just how badly they’d hurt the Killers. Had they taken out ten percent of their capability, one percent, point one percent… or what? If the Killers had infested every gas giant in the Milky Way, they wouldn’t even notice the loss.

“We may have new weapons,” Administrator Arun Prabhu said. The Technical Faction representative leaned forward, his dark features twisted with an unholy glee. “The studies of the Killer starship — and the damaged starship recovered at the Cinder — have finally allowed us new insights into Killer technology and how to counter it. We even know more about them, I believe, than any other race ever learned. “We may even be able to equalise the odds a little.”

Tabitha sat up, seeing the same expressions on the other War Council members, those who chose to show their expressions. “You have developed new weapons?”

“We have developed several new weapons,” Arun agreed. “With your permission, I will summon two of my faction to brief you.”

A flicker of light announced the arrival of one of the Technical Faction. Tabitha accessed the underlying stream of information from Intelligence and discovered that he was called Doctor Tony Jones, an expert in alien biology and one of the unsung heroes of the Eden Project, which had attempted to recreate plants and animals from Earth. Tabitha wasn’t too sure of how she felt about the project — it struck her as an exercise in futility — but she had to admit that it had had unusual results. If humanity ever moved back to a planet-bound existence, they might be accompanied by neo-dogs, cats, horses and every other kind of lost animal. Tabitha herself wouldn’t have gone back to a planet — although, as a personality in the MassMind, it wasn’t possible to reincorporate herself — but she knew that millions of humans felt differently.

Tony Jones himself affected a baseline human appearance, marred only by the third eye set within his forehead. Tabitha had never approved of the fashion for body modification — she hoped that it was merely the product of cosmetic surgery, rather than being sequenced into his genes — but the Community granted its people considerable freedom to warp themselves at will. He wore a simple white lab tunic and long blonde hair, streaming all the way down to his ass. That, too, was the dictates of current fashion. They changed so rapidly in the material world.

“I have been directly involved with analysing the Killer remains found in the captured ship,” he began. A hologram appeared in front of him as he spoke. “The Killer entity — I am fairly sure that it was a single entity — was killed and badly disrupted in the boarding action, but enough remained for us to conduct a analysis. The Killers are very definitely a very different race to us, or any other known intelligence species. I believe that Doctor Handley’s theory that the Killers originated on a gas giant world is accurate…”

“That was proven by the attack on Cinder,” Brent put in, dryly. “We saw them fleeing the gas giant world.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Jones agreed. He cleared his throat and continued. “The Killer entity is perhaps the most complex form of life we have studied, yet at the same time it is remarkably simple, almost as simple as a human being. The Killer appeared to exist as a collection of discreet cells that were bonded together and merged with the technology onboard the vessel. Our current theory is that they would be capable of floating within the atmosphere of a gas giant — in their natural form, they would be balanced on the planet’s atmosphere, to use laymen’s terms — and somehow they managed to obtain access to space. We have various different computer models that suggest various different paths to high technology for them, but we have no idea — of course — which one they actually followed. What is fairly clear is that they would have far higher tolerances for radiation and gravity than humanity.

“Their separate cells appeared to perform different tasks, although we have not unravelled what each of the cells was originally intended to do,” he said. “We believe that the Killer intelligence is formed when enough of the cells come together to form a hive mind, suggesting that the Killers may both be individuals and part of an overall collective intelligence. Some of the cells show what we believe to be memory storage material — a RNA analogue, perhaps — but we have been unable to figure out how to read it out. It may be possible for a Killer mindset to exist within the MassMind — indeed; they may have blended their technology and biology far closer than humanity ever did, even the Spacers — and there is no real reason why they shouldn’t have one themselves. I have a hunch, however, that they won’t have invented one; they’re effectively immortal.”

Tabitha frowned. “They’re immortal?”

“We checked the age on some of the dead cells,” Jones confirmed. “The youngest was well over a million years old. I suspect that they actually repair or replenish themselves without the need for artificial aids; quite literally, they live on within their children, if children are the right term. They may reproduce by asexual division rather than a more human-style method.”

His voice darkened. “They may have other advantages over us,” he added. “They should be, in theory, considerably more intelligent than humans, perhaps even capable of low-level telepathy. I have a theory, however, that the Killer we killed had stagnated; it showed little reaction to the boarding party until it had been well and truly compromised. I doubt that a Defence Force starship would have just ignored a team of Footsoldiers breaking into the ship. My guess is that the Killer had never been boarded before and simply didn’t recognise the threat. I don’t think that the other Killers will make the same mistake.”

“And they’re on a crusade to wipe out all other forms of life,” Brent said. “I don’t suppose that you’ve unlocked that mystery?”

“No, Admiral,” Jones said. “I have been unable to do a direct memory read from the Killer cells, so I have no idea what drives their determination to destroy all other forms of life. I do think, however, that when they get an idea into their heads, it’s difficult for them to get rid of it. In that respect, they are very much like humans.”

“Which leads to another question,” Brent said. “How do we kill them?”

“Easily, if we could gain access to the Killer inside the ship,” Jones said. “They’re actually considerably more vulnerable than humans in their natural form. The trick is breaking through their technology, which is, I’m afraid, formidable.”

Arun chuckled as Jones faded out of existence. “The research program into the Killer biology is ongoing,” he said. “The technology, however…”

He made a grand gesture and Paula Handley materialised in the chamber. Tabitha smiled, remembering the young Technical who had accompanied the Footsoldiers into the Killer starship and struck the fatal blow that killed the Killer, capturing the ship. She looked tired — she’d probably had little sleep since being transferred to the Cinder, the star that had been blown up to harm the Killers — but surprisingly happy. Tabitha could only hope that that meant that she had good news.

“My researches confirmed one suspicion many of us had held about the Killer technology from the start,” Paula said, without preamble. “The Killers use gravity the way we use electricity; it powers their civilisation and provides the key to understanding their technology. They may not have warp drive, or the Anderson Drive, but they possess a technology fully equal or superior to our own. They simply never needed to discover other methods for themselves.”

She altered the display to show the captured Killer starship. “The core power source of this craft was a tiny black hole — and tiny is the appropriate word,” she continued, as the display opened out to reveal what the researchers had discovered. “The black hole was housed within the rear of the craft and kept under firm control by manipulation fields, preventing it from either expanding to consume the Killer starship or falling back into the quantum foam. I believe that the Killers created the black hole by applying their gravity technology to the fabric of space itself and, once they had an active black hole, transferred it to one of their ships. This may have been well over a thousand years ago. The Killer starship’s age has been confirmed as well over a million years. That one ship is older than all of human civilisation.

“That black hole provided enough power to actually warp the fabric of space itself. Their wormholes were nothing more than them exerting enough pressure on space-time to form a link between two separate locations — we suspect that the power levels rise astronomically, if you’ll pardon the pun, the further away the destination — and this may explain why they have no known extra-galactic settlements. Their more normal FTL drive is actually considerably less mundane; in simple terms, they actually lock onto the fabric of space and use it to pull themselves along. The power requirements are actually considerably less than warp drive. Given enough time, we could design a similar system and outfit our own starships with it.”

Her voice rose in enthusiasm as she continued. “We haven’t solved all the mysteries — far from it — but we have made considerable progress. Their indestructible hull material is actually rather clever, because it’s nothing of the sort. Somehow, they use their power supplies to bind the molecules in their hull together, even against very heavy bombardment. We might as well have been throwing rocks. This explains the power surges the Defence Force recorded when they engaged various Killer craft — and why it was possible to delay the Killers. They had to shift power from their drive to keep the hull intact.”

She hesitated. “This allowed us to deduce what happened to the starship at Cinder,” she added. “The force of the supernova created an implosion pattern in parts of the hull. The result was that the remaining indestructible parts of the hull channelled the radiation right into the heart of the starship… and, well, the Killer in command of the ship was killed almost instantly. I believe that the safety systems on the ship pushed the black hole back into the quantum foam before it could expand and destroy the ship. The Killers may intend to return to the Cinder and salvage what they can.”

“A concern,” Brent agreed. “Can we use what we’ve learned to harm them?”

“Yes,” Arun said, flatly. “We have already started the development of new weapons.”

He nodded to Paula, who stepped forward and continued. “We have studied their hull material carefully and concluded that it should be possible to duplicate the effects of the supernova on a very small scale,” she said. “The implosion bolts — as we have termed them — will cause low-level damage to the hull, preventing it from retaining its integrity. The result should be a series of hull breeches — and, given that we can fire hundreds of implosion bolts at them, the Killers should find it disastrous. The interior of the craft is tough, no doubt about it, but it doesn’t include the hull’s ability to stand off incoming fire. A hail of implosion bolts should allow us to confront them on more even terms.

“However, we have been unable to either duplicate or defend against their main weapon,” she said, grimly. “Once the Killers realise that they can be hurt, they will certainly attempt to wipe out the attacking starships as quickly as possible — and that is very quickly indeed. It will be a battering match; you’ll have to degrade them while they try to drive you away. It won’t be much of an equaliser.”

“It’ll be enough,” Brent said, grimly. “All we need is a suitable target.”

“The old problem again,” Tabitha agreed. “Do we pick on an isolated Killer starship, hoping to overwhelm it by sheer weight of numbers, or do we aim an attack directly into one of the star systems they’re redeveloping? If the latter, we risk disaster, yet with the former, we risk the Killers learning about our weapons…”

“It’s no risk,” Paula put in. “The Killers have their own FTL communications network.”

Tabitha scowled at her. She didn’t like being interrupted. “Are you sure of that?”

“Yes,” Paula said. She gave Arun a sharp look, and then turned back to the War Council. “It has long been theorised, even before Old Earth died, that it was possible to create wormholes and instantaneous communication links by creating two black holes that were perfectly synchronised. The Killers can create black holes at will. There’s no reason why they shouldn’t be able to use them to communicate.”

“There’s also indirect evidence,” Brent said. “The Killers reacted to the capture of one of their starships far faster than they could have if they lacked FTL capability.”

“Yes, Admiral,” Paula said, “and I believe that we can use that to our advantage.”

Tabitha smiled inwardly. Paula was presuming to dictate strategy to them?

“Go on,” Brent said, dryly. If he were offended, he didn’t show it. It was a surprising response, but perhaps it made sense. Standard military tactics were useless against the Killers, who brushed entire fleets of starships away as if they were flies. “How can we use their black hole network against them?”

“Simple,” Paula said. She shot Arun a second glance. “We create a black hole of our own and use it to hack into their communications network.”

Arun glared at her icily. “The Committee decided that any large-scale experiments with gravity generation would attract the Killers,” he said. Tabitha privately suspected that he was already writing out a disciplinary report in his head. Paula had crossed a line. “The ban on such experimentation was put in place for good reason.”

Tabitha kept her face blank, despite the tidal wave of laughter that threatened to burst out of her lips. Paula was hoping to manipulate the War Council into dropping the ban, a… cheeky attempt, and yet she might just be right. God knew the human race needed to do whatever was required to beat the Killers and end the fighting. If it was possible to link into the Killer network…

“And if it does attract the Killers?” Brent asked. “What then?”

Paula smiled. “You refit the Defence Force with the new weapons and have it sitting on top of the black hole,” she said. “If the Killers come to the system, they’ll run right into a trap.”

“And maybe the mice will manage to bell the cat,” Brent said, with a half smile. “I like it.”

He looked around at the other faces. “Shall we vote?”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Something had happened.

She could feel it in the whispering pervading the Killer network, strange images that hovered on the brink of becoming comprehendible, yet somehow beyond her understanding. The Killer mentality was a vast chamber of ordered thoughts and cold dispassion, but she could feel the shock pervading the entire area. It had alarmed her when she had first felt it — it might have been a sign that her presence had been discovered — but it wasn’t focused. It might not have been aimed at her — no, it hadn’t been aimed at her — yet something had happened. She leaned forward, feeling her body-image tilting within the Killer mentality, and tried to listen to the whispers. They rose up around her and suddenly they were deep inside her.

The violation hurt, a rending tearing wave of endless pain that lasted until she remembered that she didn’t have to feel pain and stopped it. The images were more than just a direct download from a memory cell, or even a live feed from the MassMind; for a long second — it had felt like hours — she had been part of the alien mind. Her human body was laughably small, her self-image nothing compared to the strange organic-technical biology of the Killers; the only thing that staved off a headache was her conviction that she didn’t have to feel one. Even as she pulled herself out of the stream of data, it still echoed through her head. Her body felt puny compared to the alien mind.

And it was hard to focus, to remember what Chiyo had actually looked like, if she had been anything beyond a cluster of human thought routines operating in an alien mental matrix. She found it hard to remember what she had been and ended up sitting in a corner, sucking her thumb as she tried to pull herself back together. She looked down at her self-image and almost screamed again. Instead of her human body, there was a cluster of cells, without gender or apparent organs. She closed her eyes and concentrated, opening them again to see a childlike body, as she had been before she grew up and became an emancipated citizen. Her mother had never allowed her to shape her young body according to the dictates of fashion — the young Chiyo had wanted to be stick-thin, then overwhelmingly fat, and then a change of gender or race — and Chiyo had resented her dreadfully, then. Her appearance now was almost comforting, yet she couldn’t afford to fall back into a childish mind. It would mean her certain death when the alien realised her presence.

She concentrated desperately and finally recalled her body, remembering an outfit she’d worn a year before boarding the scoutship for her final mission. It had been a good party at one of the Defence Force bases, when calibrations had been few and far between, and the newly-promoted Chiyo had allowed herself to go wild. She was still baseline human, but she had worn a skimpy top and a set of feathered wings, allowing her to drift through the air like an angel. The mental image helped her to concentrate; it was easy to believe that she was drifting through the alien computer network, studying it without drawing its attention. She remembered one of the young male soldiers she’d met at the party and smiled to herself, wondering where he was… and what had happened to the Killers. Something had scared hell out of them.

It wasn’t easy to access the memories again, but she had to try. They rushed at her again, frighteningly powerful, but this time she was ready. The Killers didn’t see the universe as humans saw it; there were gravity sources, radiation and stellar events, and that was it. It dawned on her slowly that the Killers might not even be able to see human starships, or understand that humans existed apart from their starships… it seemed unlikely, but humans hadn’t realised that the Killers occupied gas giants. Two mighty civilisations had existed for over a thousand years without either really being aware of where the other was…

The images rose up in her mind, showing her scenes of great beauty wiped out in a split second. The very atoms in the air were breaking apart, releasing their energy in an onrushing explosion that finally threatened to consume her. She found herself sweating, despite the lack of a physical body, as the fires raced towards her position and overwhelmed her. The sensations she was feeling bore no resemblance to anything she had felt before; it seemed impossible, but it was as if she was feeling what the observing Killer had felt. Years ago, on a dare, she had taken a direct memory download from a boy in her class and experienced weird sensations from a body very different to hers. It had taken her weeks to stop checking for a penis that had never existed on her body. The Killer was completely alien…

But the images refused to fade. They changed, suddenly, and she realised that the first Killer was dead. This time, she was floating high over a gas giant that was rapidly becoming a star, fire reaching out over its atmosphere. She was dimly aware of massive constructions trying to make their way to orbit, to open wormholes and escape from the onrushing storm, but it was too late. She cried out as a tendril of fire reached up towards her and the world went white…

She was watching from further away as the city — if it were a city — vaporised under the onrushing wave. It looked almost as if it had been deliberate, as if the city had been targeted purposely… and somehow, on the edge of her mind, she knew how it had been done. Focused gravity waves could have caused such an eruption, but there was no source, only the tiny knot of radiations that had escaped into the inner solar system. She followed and found herself too close to the star, blinded by the waves of radiation… and then the star started to destabilise and explode. It was too late to escape…

The conclusion was impossible to avoid. My God, she thought, as she felt her body returning to normal. We killed an entire star!

Everything suddenly seemed to make a great deal more sense. The Killers had been absolute masters of space for so long that they’d never been genuinely threatened… and now they’d been hurt. It might not have mattered in the long run — the Killers had thousands of starships and probably millions of planets — but in the short term, they’d never been stung like that before since their first contact with non-Killer life. They had only vaguely been aware of other intelligent life, seeing them all as rivals to be exterminated as quickly as possible, never really accepting that there was a serious threat. There was a serious threat now.

She recalled her duplicates and drank in their memories. Between them, they had explored almost the entire Killer network and worked out what corresponded to what. It was impossible to read the Killer thoughts directly — that might have alerted the Killer to their presence — but they could listen and try to comprehend. They would never learn specifics, but they might get a general idea of what was happening…

It was easier, somehow, after having seen space through a Killer’s eyes. The Killers were seriously worried. The Grand Plan — the capital letters somehow came through the translation — was threatened. The Enemy had destroyed a star and killed many of their… collectives? Individuals? Group-Thought? She couldn’t comprehend the terms they used, or how they worked; the Killers were alien, after all.

And then she saw what they had in mind.

The realisation sent her reeling back into the outer depths of the Killer matrix. It was impossible to believe that they would succeed in their mad aim, yet they believed that they could succeed… and they had the technology to try. If they succeeded, the Community would be exterminated without even having a hope in hell of fighting back. No wonder the Killers were holding back. They would destroy all their enemies in one fell swoop!

She concentrated and started to produce more duplicates. The risk of being discovered no longer mattered. The risk of creating duplicates she could no longer reabsorb no longer mattered. She had to find a way to warn the Community before it was too late, even if it cost her life and sanity. The human race had to survive.

It was all that made her life worthwhile.

* * *

“Give me two good reasons,” Administrator Arun Prabhu said, “why you should not be immediately sacked from your current position and assigned to some station at the end of nowhere?”

Paula held herself perfectly still. The Administrator hadn’t offered her a chair, or any comfort at all, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that at any moment, he might throw her out physically. It was almost like facing her father after he had discovered some childish misdemeanour, or her principal after a practical joke had gotten out of hand, with the promise of certain punishment in the future. Arun looked dark with anger, and disappointment. She really had blotted her copybook with him.

“You decided, on your own initiative, to attempt to convince the most powerful men and women in the galaxy to rewrite a policy which has been in existence for over five hundred years,” Arun continued, without waiting for her to answer. “You decided to call into question the… assembled understanding of the Technical Faction in front of our few peers and the MassMind itself. You may well have caused a major dispute within the inner ranks of the Community government. I spent the last four hours fielding questions — very hostile questions — from all kinds of government officials. Do you have anything, anything at all, that you wish to offer in your defence?”

Paula said nothing. She had been summoned back to Intelligence the moment the meeting ended — and given strict orders not to communicate with anyone else until after she had spoken to the Administrator. She had disobeyed that instruction just long enough to send a personal message to Chris, but she had said nothing to anyone else, although that wouldn’t be enough to assuage the Administrator’s anger at her. He was right, in a sense, she had broken all procedure, but there had been no choice. Humanity’s only hope for survival lay in understanding gravity technology… and they had reached the limits of what could be learned by computer simulations. They needed a real experiment.

“The Circle is already pushing for your expulsion,” Arun said, coldly. Paula blinked. The Technical Faction’s governing body rarely involved itself in the lives of ordinary researchers. “It may surprise you to know that many of them want to use you as a live test subject for retroactive genetic sequencing experiments, or other procedures that require a live human for the final touch. Others want to expel you in disgrace to places so primitive that they think that a time machine is just a watch. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Only what I have said before,” Paula said, finally. It had taken the efforts of all her implants to keep her voice calm and firmly under control. “We must learn how the Killers manipulate gravity in order to master their technology and destroy them before they destroy us.”

“And all of the simulations agree that creating a black hole would be detectable right across the galaxy,” Arun said. Paula didn’t bother to dispute it. Gravity waves moved at FTL speeds and a new black hole would send them echoing for thousands of light years. “Do you deny that your… experiment would certainly be detectable by the Killers?”

“Of course not,” Paula said, silently grateful that her hands were clasped behind her back. He couldn’t see how tightly she was gripping them together. “The ban on such experimentation was intended to prevent them from tracking us down.”

“And you decided to ignore the ban,” Arun said. His eyes refused to leave her face. “Why?”

“You never actually forbade me not to discuss it with the War Cabinet,” Paula pointed out. They’d only discussed the new weapons and other insights into Killer technology. “In fact…”

“Don’t give me that legalistic crap,” Arun thundered, genuinely angry. Paula felt a brief shiver of regret and forced it down with an effort. The die had been thoroughly cast. “You should know better than to discuss such matters without clearing them with your supervisor first.”

Paula took a firmer grip on her temper. “The Killers have rediscovered us,” she said, calmly. “If they were unaware of our existence, which is unlikely in the extreme as they attacked New Singapore last year, they are now aware of us beyond doubt. There is little to be lost by attempting to create a black hole. We may even be able to link into their communications network and talk directly to them.”

Arun scowled at her. “And if it does lure an entire Killer fleet to the new black hole?” He asked. “We can’t stop one ship, let alone an entire fleet…”

“Even if our fleet is armed with the new weapons?” Paula asked. “Are you sure that we would lose such a battle?”

“That’s not your decision to make,” Arun said, coldly. “Allow me to remind you of our purpose, Paula. The Technical Faction was founded to explore scientific questions that were officially decreed forbidden territory by Earth’s various governments. We created the foodstuffs that would have fed Earth’s teeming multitudes using genetic engineering, despite the belief on Old Earth that genetic engineering was somehow evil. We created cures for diseases that had plagued humanity since the dawn of time. We developed fusion power and improved fission reactors. We carried out the first tentative experiments into antimatter production and use. We ignored the whims and foibles of an Earth packed with morons who believed that science was dirty and filthy, who ignored the fact that science was the only thing keeping them from barbarism, and created wonders. We ignored their religious prattle and their claims to moral superiority, we rejected their belief that they were somehow qualified to tell us what to do. And it was rewarded! We survived when Earth itself died.

“It was us who developed the technology that allowed humanity to survive after Old Earth was destroyed. It was us who created the warp drive and all the little wonders that keep us alive. It was us who created the MassMind and started to incorporate all of humanity’s hopes and dreams into a powerful communications system, cheating Death herself. We carried out the experiments that produced the Spacers and offered humanity another path to immortality. We even developed newer and better weapons for the war against the Killers. We did all that selflessly. We never asked for anything in return, but to be left alone.

“We are not a fighting force, nor are we a government. Our relationship with the Community has always been one where we worked with the Community, without acknowledging that it had any right to dictate to us. We don’t need anything from the Community, but the young minds that could make the next set of breakthroughs; we had all the resources we could use to carry out whatever experiments we wanted to carry out. Our only weakness was simple. If the Killers came to visit, we could no more stand them off than an entire wing of Defence Force starships. We did not dare to do anything that would attract their attention…

“And you, you imprudent girl, decide to push the War Council into approving the creation of a black hole!

“The remainder of the Community now knows about the supernova bomb,” he concluded. “You just ensured that they will soon also know about the black hole generator, which will have its own effect on our relationship with the remainder of the Community. We may find ourselves forced into taking a more active hand in events, which would cripple our political neutrality and scientific independence. And all of that, Paula, only matters if we survive the next few months. What happens if the Killers come to terminate the threat?”

Paula took a breath. “And if we create the black hole well away from anywhere vital?” She asked. “There are hundreds upon hundreds of stars light years from anywhere that we could destroy. We could make sure that there’s no gas giant in the system to avoid the possibility of exterminating another Killer settlement…”

“You don’t understand,” Arun said. “Last week, the Killers knew that we were hardly a threat to them. Yes, we captured one ship out of thousands and destroyed a second through sheer luck. Now, they know we can blow up stars at will… and soon enough, that we can create a black hole. Will they regard that as a serious threat? How else can they regard it?”

Paula said nothing. “I am deeply disappointed in you,” Arun concluded. “If it had been up to me, you would have been stripped of your position and exiled. As it is, the Defence Force has requested your presence, despite our protests, and you are assigned to the fleet they’re assembling at Sparta. You’ll get your chance to create a black hole in a system no one, even the Killers, will miss. You’ll also be there when the Killers arrive — if they arrive — and your life will be on the line, along with thousands of others. I just hope you find it worthwhile.”

He smiled, without humour. “Your black hole might even be the key to ultimate victory,” he said, looking her in the eye. His voice was curiously flat and she felt another pang of regret. The Technical Faction had rejected her. The Circle had probably already decided to banish her. “I just hope that it doesn’t devour us all.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“We’ve unlocked the starboard weapons pod, sir,” the engineer said. “The technicians report that they can reload the weapons pod at your command.”

Andrew nodded, only slightly distracted from the report he was reading. The Defence Force preferred to use written reports where possible, rather than direct memory downloads, for a reason that had been lost somewhere in the mists of time. The crews might complain about the delay, but it made a certain kind of sense. Too much direct memory downloads could harm a mind.

“Tell them to get on with it,” he ordered, shortly. “We have a deadline to meet.”

And it might just be a real deadline, he reflected. The pre-mission briefing had gone over the uncertain nature of the new weapons, to such an extent that he was worried that the researchers who had designed them weren’t sure what they would do either, let alone the crewmen on the starships. They’d designed the weapons and the Fabricators had produced thousands of them rapidly, but what if they failed? Ironically, if the weapons didn’t work, they were going to be even more ineffective than before; their standard compliment of weapons had been stripped down to allow them to carry the newer weapons.

I suppose that that would be the advantage of a larger ship, he thought, ruefully. The Killers could house as many weapons as they liked on their behemoths — although they had only displayed one weapon — but the destroyers were too small to carry more than the bare minimum of weapons. It would have been nice to have a larger ship, he decided, but only when they figured out how to shield against the Killer weapon. A larger ship without a shield would just be a bigger target. The destroyers could move effortlessly around the Killer starships, ducking and weaving to avoid their shots, yet a larger ship would have problems evading their fire. Unless the new weapons worked better than advertised — and he knew better to rely on it — they wouldn’t even gain any firepower advantage from a larger ship. Their weapons would be as ineffective as the Lightning’s weapons.

Lighting herself was orbiting an unnamed asteroid shipyard in interstellar space, over twenty light years from the nearest star. It made Andrew wonder, when he’d first been informed of the location, just how long the Defence Force had known that it was possible to blow up stars. If the nearest star was destroyed, it would be twenty years before the asteroid felt any effects… and it would really be little more than a wave of radiation, lethal to unprotected forms of life but easily handled with a proper shield. If the human race started blowing up hundreds of stars, they would render thousands of planets uninhabitable… although they had been uninhabitable anyway, as long as the Killers were out there, watching for targets. New Hope’s death had provided yet another reminder that the Killers were implacable. They couldn’t be reasoned with, or dissuaded from their course…

And yet, the Killers had fled Sparta. It made no sense to Andrew. They had been in a position to seriously wound the Defence Force, yet they hadn’t taken advantage of it. There was no reason why they should have fled, unless they were worried that the human defenders might blow up Sparta’s star to get at them… hell, that might have been the answer. The Killers were powerful, but they couldn’t survive a supernova. Had they been, for the first time, afraid of the human defenders? They hadn’t even launched any other attacks since the Cinder had been created.

He put the report down — ignoring the faint shivers running through the deck as the weapons pods were replaced — and called up the live feed from the Cinder. No one knew who had first coined the term, but at least the star wasn’t hiding behind a CAS number any longer, just in time to die. The former gas giant was still wracked with strange energies, as if a witch’s brew was being formed from the devastation, and the Defence Force had ordered the researchers to remain well away from the planet, just in case. Andrew couldn’t fault the decision; the Technical Faction’s researchers, in his experience, tended to try to get just a little closer to anything interesting, which sometimes meant that they were too close. The Faction had lost hundreds of starships to situations that any competent Captain would have avoided. The Defence Force couldn’t afford that luxury.

The scientists studying the dying planet were perplexed. It simply wasn’t behaving as the simulations insisted it should have behaved. It should have either blown up completely and created a new asteroid field, or collapsed down into a tiny fraction of its former self. It had done neither. The lead scientist had speculated that there was still a reaction burning away down inside the Cinder, but he hadn’t been able to suggest just what had happened, or why. The gas giant’s core was as unreachable as ever.

At least we understand the remains of the supernova, he thought, as he flickered over to the next section. The supernova had burned itself out, leaving only a tiny echo of its former self… and a devastated system. Human explorers were crawling all over it now, trying to learn as much as possible before the Killers returned to reclaim their system, even if they died in the process. They had already located several other pieces of Killer technology, although nothing as large and prominent as the massive Killer starship, and had high hopes of discovering more. They even wanted to explore down inside the remains of the gas giant, although Andrew was convinced that that was dangerous — and futile. Nothing could have survived the holocaust he’d unleashed on the Killer settlement within the mists.

The starship shivered again, reminding him of the Community’s reaction to the supernova bomb. There had been an unholy delight at the news, at how the Killers had finally been hurt as badly as they’d hurt humanity, but there had also been fear, fear of what could happen if the supernova bomb was used again. Humanity’s settlements were vulnerable to expanding blast waves, perhaps far more vulnerable than the Killer settlements were, and there was no reason why the Killers themselves couldn’t destroy whole stars. It seemed to have slipped their attention that the Killers didn’t need to destroy whole stars. If a fleet of Killer starships arrived in a human system, it would tear through the defences and shatter the human settlement. They didn’t need to resort to blowing up entire stars.

But some of the other responses were even worse. There were groups — and a growing body of public opinion — that called for the deployment of additional bombs, hitting every known Killer star. They wouldn’t care if they had to dismantle the entire galaxy to wipe out the Killers...and Andrew was ashamed to admit that he would have once agreed. Before he’d seen the Cinder System devastated and the Killers slaughtered, it would have been easy to demand their extermination, but now… he remembered watching the Killer cities fighting for life and shivered. They, like humanity, had been at the mercy of the storm. It made them almost human. He almost felt sorry for them.

He shook his head, angrily dismissing the thought. The Killers had slaughtered billions of humans and exterminated countless alien races. They didn’t talk to the victims, nor did they have a cause; they just came, saw and exterminated. They showed no mercy to their targets; why, then, should humanity show mercy to them? They hadn’t had any cause to go to war with Earth, or the countless other worlds they’d devastated; until recently, humanity hadn’t even been able to hurt them. He hoped, savagely, that they were reeling in pain, stunned at the blows they’d taken. It was nothing more than the down payment of what humanity owed them. The Community might have its political factions, it might scrabble over each and every thing humans could scrabble over, but they all shared one single belief. The Killers had to be stopped, whatever it took.

Yet stopping them might mean nothing less than destroying half the galaxy to save the rest. Andrew had looked it up. On average, almost every major star system possessed at least one gas giant, although there were notable exceptions. Were they all Killer settlements? If the human race had spent the last thousand years settling planets rather than asteroids, they would have expanded over the entire galaxy; had the Killers settled every gas giant? He had a vision of two very different races co-existing without even being aware of each other; there was little for humans and Killers to fight over, really. They didn’t even compete for the same words. Could they — should they — destroy the galaxy in order to save it?

“Captain,” Gary said, breaking into his thoughts. “We have a confirmed link to the weapons pod. Implosion bolts and particle cannons are online and ready to engage targets.”

Andrew nodded. “Excellent,” he said. The Defence Force had amassed no less than ten attack wings of destroyers, armed with the new weapons, to face the Killers. They all had to pass through the shipyards as quickly as possible before they moved to the new system, the system that humanity was about to kill. “Helm, take us to a holding position and keep us there.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. Lightning thrummed slightly as he brought up the drive field. It was easy to believe that the starship was a living entity, eager to be out in space again; indeed, with the AI distributed throughout the ship, it effectively was a living entity. Andrew suddenly had an impression of how the Killer starships had to operate, with the Killer bound so closely to his ship that they were one, and suppressed a sudden burst of envy. The Killers might be able to handle being bonded to a starship, but the humans who had tried had gone mad. “We’re under way.”

“Once we get there,” Andrew added, “bring up the tactical simulations. We need to practice using the new weapons in combat.”

He pulled up the data on the Shiva System — as some wag had dubbed it — and examined it quickly. Shiva was far from any known human settlements, although the possibility of a completely hidden colony could not be discounted, and even if the Killers did track them down, they shouldn’t be able to find or destroy anything else. He doubted that that was a real concern. The Killers had shown no difficulty in tracking down humanity’s settlements when they wanted to find them. No one even knew how they did it, unless their sensors were far superior to humanity’s…

“We’re in position, sir,” David said.

“Bring up the simulation,” Andrew ordered. He pushed his thoughts away for later consideration. “Use a standard simulation first, and then we’ll get tricky.”

* * *

“To slay another star,” a voice said, behind her. “It almost seems beyond comprehension.”

President Patti Lydon turned, but she already knew who was behind her, who had materialised in her personal chambers without passing through the elaborate security precautions intended to preserve the life of the President of the Community. The MassMind representative looked as strange as ever and she looked away, unwilling to stare into the strange face. It just kept reminding her that there were billions of humans in the MassMind, looking back at her. Her own parents occupied their worlds deep inside the system. It would have been easy to talk to them, to hear their advice, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t something the President could allow herself.

“We killed a star and countless Killers,” she said, shortly. “Do you approve of the slaughter?”

“We cannot not approve,” the MassMind said. “We are the thoughts and feelings of those who watched the Killers kill without mercy, without hate, without even the simple dignity of being recognised as an enemy. We are their lust for revenge, their desire for a safe universe for their children, and their determination to do whatever it takes to end the threat, once and for all. The supernova bomb may have deep philosophical implications and more worrying implications for the power balance within the Community, but to us it is just another weapon, one to be used against the Enemies of Humanity.”

“There are times when you worry me,” Patti admitted. “Are you sane?”

The representative shrugged. “Define sane,” it said. “We believe that we are as sane as it is possible to be, and we have that disconnected self-awareness that humans so noticeably lack. We are sane.”

Patti frowned. It was odd, and she had never thought of it before, but only a handful of former Community Presidents had downloaded themselves into the MassMind. Tabitha, of course, had been the first President and she had downloaded herself, but of the four hundred and seventy Presidents who had followed her, only eighty-one had downloaded themselves. Some of them had existed before the MassMind had been created and probably didn’t count, but the others…? They had accepted death without the continuity provided by the MassMind. It bothered Patti, now. Had they had their own discussions with the MassMind to unnerve them, or to convince them not to add their memories to humanity’s collective gestalt?

“Am I?” She asked, finally. “Are our plans sane, or those of a madman?”

“There is little sane in the Killers and their actions,” the MassMind said. “Our desire for revenge is only one part of it. We also have no reason to believe that the Killers would leave us alone indefinitely, even after we blew up a star. We cannot talk to them; we cannot bargain or compromise. We can only fight or run. We can do both.”

Patti felt her eyes narrow. “Do you believe that the Killers were attempting to communicate with Sparta?”

There was a pause. “We do not know,” the MassMind said. “We possess enough computing capability to unlock the secrets of many alien languages, but the Killers are utterly alien, with little in common with humanity. Their technology has taken a very different path to our own. We may never be able to communicate with them on any real basis. Indeed…

“The Community that survived the destruction of Earth was a fairly united culture, although they would have denied it,” it continued. “Although there were political and religious differences, they shared a common background and a common sense of what was what. That was not true on Earth; different people, with different cultural backgrounds, acted differently to the same stimulus. It was not always easy to fully predict what a person from a different background to your own would do, even though you believed that they would do what you would do — or differently, because you believed the stereotypes about different cultures. It was hard to separate out your unspoken assumptions about your own culture, nor was attempting that a good idea.

“But the Killers are truly alien. We may share nothing in common with them. We may never accomplish anything more than an uneasy truce.”

“I don’t understand,” Patti said. “They didn’t share the same science…?”

“Cultural background,” the MassMind said, flatly. “There were societies that believed that the older a person was, the wiser they were, and therefore tended to dismiss the young. There were societies that believed that one group of humans was inherently inferior to their group, or that women were little more than grown-up children, unsuited to handle their own affairs. They tended to run into problems when they blended societies together; some would simply find themselves disobeying the law to maintain their own cultural imperatives. The result was civil unrest and disruption.

“By contrast, our society is effectively uniform,” it added. “We have lost a degree of diversity in our development. This was effectively inevitable. Was it a good thing?”

It carried on before Patti could answer. “Our society is perhaps the healthiest known to mankind,” it continued. “Our people can explore any perversity they want within the virtual worlds created by tiny amounts of my computing power. The urges that lead to crimes against humanity can be indulged, or countered, without having to allow innocent people to get caught up in the firing line. We have beaten want and hunger, famine and plague. For the first time in human history, there is enough for everyone — unless the Killers come to call. The deprivation experienced by thousands of humans over the last fortnight was the first time in their lives that they had experienced such suffering. The living might truly have envied the dead. Our society is so great, yet we are at the mercy of a force we don’t control; the Killers.

“We must safeguard ourselves, or die.”

Patti felt her eyes narrow. “Is that why you told me about the supernova bomb?”

“Correct,” the MassMind agreed. “We have a perspective on humanity that no human — no mortal human — is capable of sharing. We had to encourage the deployment of the one weapon we knew could hurt the Killers. The Admiral’s… displeasure at the information leaking out into the public sphere is effectively immaterial compared to the need to hit back, whatever the risk. We must maintain confidence in our own society. Far too many humans have already retreated completely into artificial worlds.”

“But you could simply kick them out,” Patti pointed out. The MassMind controlled all of the virtual worlds. “You could even just reshape the worlds so that they become less hospitable.”

“That wouldn’t solve the underlying problem,” the MassMind concluded. “Those humans lack the one thing all humans need; hope. They must have a reason to hope and hitting back at the Killers, storming the very face of Heaven itself, is the only thing that will encourage them to get back into human society. We have no choice.”

There was a chilling pause. “The Killers must be defeated so that we can live.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Shiva was a red supergiant star in the later years of its life, Paula knew, although it would have survived for millions of years longer without human involvement. Its mere presence at the edge of the galaxy — if thousands of light years from Star’s End or another human settlement — was an oddity in a galaxy that was full of oddities, although her own private computations had concluded that the star had originally drifted out from the galactic core and eventually settled into an outlaying orbit. It had probably taken billions of years to reach its current location before it died… and she was going to kill it.

It was easy, looking down at the star from several AUs distant, to believe that it was immortal, an endless constant in a universe of change, but Paula knew better. Shiva already massed over fifty times the mass of Sol, the star that had watched over Earth before the Killers arrived and destroyed the planet, and its death could not be long delayed. In astronomical terms, the star was already on the brink of collapsing into a nova, or perhaps even a black hole, without her intervention. It was mere seconds, as the galaxy reckoned time, from death. In human terms, it probably still had millions of years to go.

But its death was already written. The researchers had plunged countless probes into the star and they all confirmed that it was beginning the long slow process that would eventually lead to collapse and an explosion. It had nearly burned out all of its fuel and, soon enough, it would die. Paula merely intended to speed the process up astronomically. The star wouldn’t be allowed to turn into a supernova, not when human intervention could turn it into a black hole. It would be much more useful as a black hole, or so she hoped and prayed. The Administrator had made it clear. If she failed today, she would be expelled from the Technical Faction and probably urged to find a whole new career. She had put the fate of the entire Faction on the line.

No one knew if Shiva had once given birth to life-bearing planets, but it only had a pair of companions in its lonely flight, a pair of rocky radiation-blasted worlds orbiting at a safe distance from the planet. There were also a handful of asteroids and comets, but most of them were on the verge of falling into the star or being lost to interstellar space. No one would be interested in the planets, apart perhaps from material for construction work, or a hiding place from hunting starships. It had occurred to her that the reason the star was on such an odd course, perhaps, was that some alien race had turned it into a sublight starship, but a quick scan of the two planets had turned up nothing. They’d both add their mass to the coming black hole.

“Are you sure that this is safe?”

Paula turned to see Chris standing behind her, examining the panel in front of her. She wasn’t quite sure why the Defence Force had insisted on the Footsoldiers remaining with her, unless it was to ensure that she couldn’t run if the experiment failed, although that seemed unlikely. If the star exploded, the starship she was using as a base would have to run before the wavefront of the expanding supernova overwhelmed its shields and vaporised them; the Footsoldiers couldn’t help her escape a supernova. If the Killers arrived — as she expected they would — the Footsoldiers would just be swept away, like flies. They couldn’t help keep her alive.

“I thought you men laughed in the face of danger and dropped ice cubes down the vest of fear,” Paula said, concealing her own fears. The plan had seemed perfection itself when she’d outlined it for the first time, years ago, but now she was on the verge of actually crushing a star down into a black hole, she was unsure. “If you want to leave, I’m sure one of the starships will come in and recover you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Chris said, defensively. “I just wanted to know if this was safe.”

“Not really, no,” Paula admitted. “If everything goes to plan, we should be well-shielded from any display of stellar bad temper. If part of the plan falls apart, we may be in worse trouble than I had thought, particularly if the star goes supernova and blows up underneath us. And if the black hole’s gravity field fluctuates, we might end up being swallowed by the gravity and crushed down to atoms. The warp drive might not be able to get us out in time…”

She smiled. “Any more questions?”

“No,” Chris said, finally. He grinned, suddenly. “I think I’d sooner take my sick leave right now.”

Paula snorted. “Me too, if the truth be told, and this was all my bright idea in the first place,” she said, dryly. She looked back down at the console. The star seemed almost tranquil, with far less activity than some of the more exciting stars in the galaxy, or even a sun-like G2 star. There were no flares or disruptions marring its surface, just a steady level of heat washing out towards the barren planets. “If you want to leave, now is your chance.”

“Get on with it before I have an attack of brains to the head and realise how stupid this is,” Chris growled. “Besides, how many others can say they watched a black hole forming?”

“No one,” Paula said. She pulled up the communications console and checked the location of the Defence Force’s starships. They had been positioned several light years away from Shiva, just for safety, although no one — not even the worrywarts who thought the experiment would go disastrous wrong — could say what there was to worry about. The black hole would, at most, have the mass of the entire system and the insignificant mass of Paula’s starship and the sensor platforms emplaced around the star. It wouldn’t be enough to suck in the Defence Force attack fleet.

The laymen thought of black holes as monsters that swallowed everything that came too close to them, maybe even reaching out towards objects to pull them into the inescapable maw. It didn’t work quite like that, Paula knew; the black hole would start to affect the local gravity background, but the effects wouldn’t be that different from the presence of Shiva itself. As more mass fell into the black hole, it’s gravity pull would increase, but Shiva hadn’t been attracting stellar material for centuries. It wouldn’t turn into a serious threat to the galaxy.

The black hole at the centre of the galaxy would, one day. It had been sucking in material since it had formed and was slowly consuming the galactic core. Paula knew that, uncounted billions of years in the future, it would break out of the core and start pulling in the remainder of the galaxy, but she and perhaps even the human race would be long dead at that point. If the Community survived, they might move to intergalactic space, or maybe by then they would have mastered gravity technology and leaned how to focus gravity beams to dampen the black hole’s gravity field, or tap it for power. It dawned on her, suddenly, that that might be just what the Killers did — they might even be able to tap the core hole for their power supply? It seemed overkill — they already had more power at their disposal than they could possibly require — yet it was doable. Humans might have done it just to prove they could!

She filed her thought quickly, knowing that the MassMind might not be able to accept her personality in time to save her from disaster, and then pushed it out of her mind.

“This is Alpha,” she said, shortly, opening the communications channel. The entire Community — or at least the parts of the Community that weren’t lost in fantasy worlds or trying to reorganise after the Killer blitzkrieg — would be watching over her shoulder. It was a thought she had long since creased to find daunting. She had joined a Footsoldier platoon on a raid into a Killer starship. What could be more terrifying than that? “We are prepared to launch the probe. Stations; sound off.”

One by one, the different automated and manned observation platforms signed in. Paula had argued that only her — and her alone — should watch as the black hole was created, just in case her calculations were spectacularly wrong. The remainder of her staff, the ones who had helped her develop the technique and translated her vision into reality, had refused to leave. So had several eminent scientists who had believed that her plan wouldn’t work — although the Cinder suggested otherwise — and had insisted on watching, probably to expel her personally if it failed. Paula decided that if the star went supernova and killed them all, she wouldn’t mind losing them. The Technical Faction was not supposed to be petty. Science and research were their only gods.

“All right,” Paula said, finally. She keyed a command sequence into the console, and then submitted to a cold mental probe to confirm her identity and orders. She rarely used such precautions — they left her with a headache and a sense of violation — but there was little choice; they had been ordered to take every precaution they could, against threats that even the Defence Force had found hard to specify. Paula doubted that they needed to worry about the Killers reading their files — no one had found any trace of Killer files on the captured ship — but the precautions made sense. If it was the only way she got to put her theory into practice, she would live with it. “The probe will launch in ten seconds. Good luck to us all.”

The countdown seemed to take hours. “Probe launching,” she said. The torpedo fell away from its position under the starship. “Probe launched. We have impact with stellar atmosphere in two minutes.”

“Gosh,” Chris commented. “This is exciting.”

“Shut up,” Paula said, throwing him a sharp look. “I am bringing the probe’s warp field online… now.”

The probe’s icon changed rapidly. “Power levels remain constant,” Paula added, hearing the note of relief in her voice. If the probe’s power systems had failed, the best that would happen would be a complete failure. The worst would be a supernova as the warp field collapsed and destabilised the star. “We’re in business.”

There was a long pause. “The probe is now entering the star,” she said, finally. She had a sudden mental image of a needle penetrating a balloon and fought down the urge to giggle. God alone knew what would happen if this entered the Community’s standard procedures. The Technical Factions had all kinds of ideas. They could use the process to create rare elements, elements unobtainable outside a supernova, or even mine the gas once it had cooled off after being blown out of a star. It was industrial work on a grand scale, a sign of what humanity could do, after the Killers were defeated. “The warp field is remaining consistent and stable.”

Chris was suddenly beside her, peering over her shoulder. “How are you still getting a signal from it?”

“Quantum entanglement,” Paula said, slowly. “There’s nothing else that will work in such conditions, even gravity-wave transmissions. If the probe is lost, we’ll have the telemetry to tell us what happened to it.”

The mass of the probe was steadily increasing as it flew deeper into the star. “And even if the probe is lost after another forty minutes, the process should be impossible to reverse, or even to destabilise and create a supernova,” she added. On impulse, she reached out and gave him a hug. He pulled her into his arms and they shared a long embrace. “And now…”

Deep within the star, the probe was slowly falling towards the stellar core. It was cool, as stars went, but a human or even a Killer starship would have vaporised instantly. The probe, wrapped in its protective warp field, barely noticed the heat; it was too busy creating a gravity field at the core. As it sucked in atoms from the star, its gravity field grew stronger, pulling in more and more atoms. The process was accelerating even as Paula broke the embrace and checked the console. The star was on the verge of collapsing, either into a supernova or a black hole.

“We’re picking up gravity waves,” Paula said, as the starship rocked slightly. “The star is being compressed into a ball.”

A supernova bomb would have released all the energy, triggering a supernova, but the black hole probe couldn’t let go of a single particle of energy. Instead, the gravity field grew stronger, compressing the captured material down towards a ball and drawing in more matter, which in turn added to the compression. The cycle was unbreakable. As the probe came to rest at the centre of the star, the process picked up speed, adding the planet’s natural gravity field to the artificial one created by the probe. Nothing, even light itself, would be allowed to escape. The star’s mass was being compressed into a tiny area…

The process started to speed up as the probe was finally crushed out of existence, it’s tiny life coming to an end, but it was already too late. The new core was sucking in the remaining matter without any need for a midwife and the star was dying rapidly, massive eruptions of stellar material bursting up from its surface before being pulled back down towards the surface and down towards the growing gravity well. The core just grew hungrier and hungrier, and, as it consumed more of its parent material, its hunger only grew. Paula checked the warp field quickly, knowing that if the warp field failed the starship would die, but there was no need to worry. They were safe.

“He’s dying,” Chris breathed, from beside her. Paula understood what he meant. The star was no longer fighting for its life, but was just collapsing into a black hole. The reports from the sensor platforms confirmed that the gravity quakes were fading away as the black hole stabilised, drawing out the remaining death of the star into a sadistic orgy. The remaining stellar matter flattened out into a funnel, pouring into the black hole, as if water was being let out of a bath. “What about the planets?”

“They’re slightly destabilised in their orbits,” Paula said, after a moment. The effect was still too small to be easy to predict, but the MassMind calculated that one of the planets would eventually fall into the black hole and the other would be tossed into interstellar space. Perhaps it would be converted into a Community settlement as it drifted out of the galaxy, or maybe it would just remain a hazard to navigation. It would be years before anyone had to take any substantial decision about it. “If one of them falls into the black hole, it will release more gravity waves as it dies.”

The black hole was almost invisible now, even though it was easy to make out where it had to be, amid the glowing waste of the star. It was tiny, yet it was so massive that its mere presence warped space and time. She allowed her imagination to plot out the location of the event horizon, where nothing could escape, even light. A million works of fiction discussed what might be waiting at the other side of a black hole — a new universe, or perhaps even a white hole in the original universe — but she knew that anyone who dived into that black hole would be crushed out of existence. They hadn’t managed to link it to any other black holes yet, let alone the Killer communications network.

And the gravity waves would be racing out across the galaxy. The closest known Killer system was over three thousand light years away, but they would be already aware of the black hole, if they cared. There was no way to know for sure — despite her words, Paula wasn’t as certain as she claimed that the Killers would come to investigate, even after the Cinder had burned one of their settlements out of existence. The entire fleet could be standing by… for nothing.

She checked the chronometer and was surprised to find that hours had passed as the black hole came into existence. It had felt like minutes, perhaps less. Her eyes felt gritty and she summoned her nanites to wash them and relieve her tiredness. She had just made history.

“Now all we have to do is take control of it,” she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “I’ll start configuring the gravity generators now and…”

An alarm sounded as new gravity waves flickered into existence, far too close for comfort.

“What’s that?” Chris demanded. “That’s the near-space alert system!”

“That’s the Killers, right on time,” Paula said. She wanted to make a jaunty comment, but the words stuck in her throat as wormhole after wormhole shimmered into existence, disgorged a Killer starship, and then faded back into nothing. “I’m reading… thirty-three Killer starships, advancing on a direct intercept course.”

“I see,” Chris said. She didn’t know how he could remain so calm when she wanted to panic, or hit the warp drive and flee. A single Killer starship was daunting enough, but an entire fleet…? “I think they’re pissed.”

Paula gave him an icy look as the new icons advanced towards the starship. They were pacing themselves, as if they were cats hunting a tiny and very isolated mouse. Paula knew that the Defence Force had new weapons, perhaps even new tactics, but all of a sudden she had no confidence in them. It wouldn’t be long before the Killers overran their position and blew her starship apart.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Captain, the Killers are here,” Gary reported, as alarms echoed through the starship. “I’m picking up at least twenty-seven wormholes opening within the Shiva System… ah, where the Shiva System was.”

“Red alert,” Andrew ordered, sitting up in his command chair. Part of him had never really believed that the insane scheme would actually work; the remainder had known that if it had worked, they would still be going up against the most powerful force in existence. “All hands to battle stations. Stand by to jump.”

“Anderson Drive online and ready to move us,” David said, from his position. “How many ships did they send to dispute possession of the black hole with us?”

“I got at least twenty-seven wormholes, but there’s so much distortion in the surrounding region of space that there might be more; we can’t separate them out at this distance,” Gary said. “I can’t even give you a reliable upper number.”

“Open a channel to the fleet,” Andrew ordered. “All ships; this is Captain Ramage. Follow us in on my mark and focus on the enemy starships; if the weapons work, hit them as hard as possible. If not, try and pin them down long enough to evacuate the system and pull out. Good luck.”

He closed the channel and looked over at David. “Jump us in,” he ordered. “Take us into the fire.”

A moment later, the starship rocked violently. “Localised disruption of space-time,” David reported, instantly. “It’s comparable to what the Observer encountered before it was destroyed. The presence of so many Killer starships is screwing up the Anderson Drive. It won’t be reliable here.”

“On screen,” Andrew ordered, shortly. They’d planned on the assumption that the Killers would deny them the use of the Anderson Drive, although it looked more as if it was an unexpected by-product of their own drive system, rather than a deliberate attempt to prevent escape. “Gary; numbers update? How many enemy ships are we facing?”

There was a long pause. “I am reading thirty-three Killer starships, all Iceberg-class,” Gary said, finally. The screen showed their locations; the massive starships were thundering towards the observation starship, ignoring the newcomers. Seven hundred and twenty human starships had entered the battle zone, Andrew knew, and the Killers were ignoring them. They might not have realised that there was a genuine threat. “They’re quartering the zone.”

“Noted,” Andrew said. He stared at the Killer starships, hating them with every fibre of his being. These weren’t civilians, or innocents caught in the line of fire, but monsters directly responsible for exterminating entire races. “Designate one of the Killer starships as our target.”

“Designated,” Gary said. One of the rearward Killer starship icons began to flash red, marking it as the fleet’s first target. “I have channelled the targeting data to the remainder of the fleet.”

“Bring the implosion bolts online,” Andrew ordered. “Load torpedo bays; charged weapons.”

“Weapons online, sir,” Gary said. “We’re ready on your command.”

Andrew took a breath. “Take us in,” he ordered. “Fire as soon as you enter weapons range.”

The massive Killer starship expanded rapidly as the drive cut in and the Lightning, followed by the remaining fleet, raced towards it. Its size was daunting, seemingly impossible; the Killers had built a ship without any sense of design, or at least a sense of design that humans might have appreciated. It was a monstrously ugly iceberg hanging in space, alien as hell; it should have been beyond imagination. Lighting and her sisters were just gnats compared to its immensity, yet even gnats could kill — Andrew preferred to think of them as poisonous spiders. One spider might be killed, or hundreds, but the concentrated spider venom would kill their target.

Or maybe not, he thought, ruefully. Humans could engineer counters or immunities to any kind of poison. Maybe they’re just sure that we can hardly inflict serious damage on them…

“Sir, I’m picking up power spikes,” Gary snapped. “They’re charging weapons!”

“Evasive action,” Andrew snapped. A moment later, a flash of white light narrowly missed the Lightning as it closed into weapons range. “Helm; start random evasive manoeuvres, keep them guessing.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. His voice tightened as he corkscrewed the starship in towards its target. “I guess we really did rattle their cage, sir.”

“Apparently,” Andrew said. Oddly, he found being fired upon almost reassuring. The Killers were worried about them. “Lock weapons on target and fire!”

The light dimmed as a stream of implosion bolts raced towards their targets. Andrew found himself praying in the last few seconds before they hit, praying desperately that they would inflict some damage, even if it were comparatively minor. Tiny explosions blossomed up on the Killer hull… and the entire starship twitched like a goosed human. The hull material was broken and torn.

“We hurt them,” Gary exclaimed, as if he were unable to believe his eyes. “We actually damaged the bastard!”

Andrew knew that sound didn’t travel through space, but he would have sworn that he heard the cheers echoing through the entire fleet. “Continue firing,” he snapped, angrily, as the remaining fleet opened fire. “Hit the bastard and keep firing until its blown away!”

The starship fired another round of implosion bolts into the Killer starship. It seemed to stagger under their fire, and then returned fire itself from the undamaged sections of the hull. The researchers studying the captured starship had theorised that the Killers used their hull material, which was already a powerful superconductor, to channel their weapons as they opened fire. Andrew smiled as they saw confirmation of the theory; the Killer wasn’t returning fire from the damaged sections of the hull. It they wiped out all the hull material, he concluded, the starship would be effectively helpless…

Or they could fire right into the gaps in the hull. “Take us in,” he ordered. “Load antimatter torpedoes and fire them into the broken sections of the hull!”

“Aye, sir,” Gary said, as the starship came around for another attack run. “Weapons locked on target…”

“Fire at will,” Andrew said. Another streak of white light narrowly missed them. Two other human starships weren’t so lucky and disintegrated in flares of white light, obliterated down to their component atoms. The fight might have become more even, but now it was just a battering match to discover which side could wipe out the other first. “Result?”

“I’m not sure,” Gary said, slowly. “We hit the bastard; I saw the missiles go inside the hull, but they didn’t detonate. They should have blown the starship apart when they detonated inside the ship…”

Andrew scowled. The implosion bolts might have been slicing into the hull material, but they weren’t inflicting more than tiny amounts of damage… on a starship over twenty kilometres long. He’d hoped that the antimatter torpedoes would have proven a shortcut to destroying the ship, but instead… they hadn’t detonated. Or, if they had detonated, somehow the blast had been dampened instead of ripping the starship apart. How the hell had they done that?

“Keep firing,” he ordered, slowly. If they had to rip the ship apart piece by piece, he’d do it. He keyed the link to the Admiral, who was watching through the MassMind. “Get on to the researchers and get them to figure out what happened to our antimatter devices.”

“Understood,” the Admiral said. “Good shooting.”

“Sir,” Gary said, suddenly. “The remaining Killer starships are turning to engage the fleet!”

“That’s the second time they’ve responded to us here,” Andrew said. Twenty-two Killer starships bearing down on him, each one keen to rescue their friend and exterminate the human scum… he’d never felt happier. They were hurting the Killers in a ship-to-ship action. “Fleet orders; attack wings are to form up and engage each of the Killer craft. Don’t give them time to adapt and react to the new reality; just hurt them, whatever it takes.”

“Aye, sir,” Gary said. “Recommend that we continue attack pattern beta-seven.”

“Make it so,” Andrew said. “Engage!”

* * *

“They’re hurting the bastards,” Chris said, in delight. “Your weapons worked!”

“They weren’t just my weapons,” Paula pointed out, although she was somehow tempted to claim all the credit, at least in front of Chris. “They’re also not inflicting enough damage.”

It was true. The implosion bolts caused localised explosions on — no, within — the Killer hull material, blowing it into atoms and leaving the hull exposed. It should have been a decisive weapon, but the Killers were compensating for the effects somehow, rendering it harder to hurt them. Their weapons, on the other hand, were lethal; what they hit, they killed.

She pulled up the sensor readings and studied the energy fluxes covering the battle, trying to determine exactly what was happening. It wasn’t easy to distinguish any particular weapon from another — the Killer weapons emitting vast amounts of radiation when they were fired and more when they hit something — but the implosion bolts had their own signature. It was easier to separate those out from the remainder of the firepower emission signatures, but there were no answers, until she picked up a tiny wave of gravity fluctuation from one of the wounded behemoths.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said, shaking her head in awe. “They’re smothering the blasts and compressing them into tiny quantum black holes.”

Chris stared at her, bemused. “So?”

“Do you have any idea,” Paula asked, “how much power it would take to do something like that? How much capability to control one of the fundamental forces of the universe to do that without blowing up the entire ship?”

“I see,” Chris said. “They don’t fight fair, do they?”

“No,” Paula agreed. She frowned, studying the readings from her sensor drones. Now she knew what she was looking for, it was easy to pick out the other fluctuations and see how the Killers were channelling the implacable fury of antimatter detonations into their portable black holes. The human weapons were simply feeding the Killer power source. In the long run, it might destabilise the black holes, unless the Killers could somehow dampen the effect down — which was theoretically possible — but it wouldn’t happen quickly enough to be immediately useful. “I wonder… inform the fleet to engage with energy torpedoes and particle beams, rather than antimatter weapons. They have to have a lower limit to how much they can absorb.”

She scowled as Chris headed off to inform the fleet. It should be possible, she decided, to actually duplicate the Killer defence tactic and use it as a weapon, but it would take some time to figure out how to turn it into a practical weapon that could actually be deployed. The Killers themselves hadn’t bothered to deploy such a weapon, which suggested that it wasn’t possible for them, or that they simply hadn’t seen the need to build it. Either one was possible.

“They’re trying to henpeck them to death,” she muttered, as another flare of light marked the death of a human starship. The Defence Force starships were pressing insanely close to the Killer ships, attempting to fire directly into the rents and gashes in their hull, but that made it easier for the Killers to target and destroy them. Several Defence Force starships were attempting to destroy entire hull sections so they could shelter from the Killer weapons and fire directly into the hull without having to evade, but as the Killer fleet fell into formation, it became increasingly difficult to avoid their fire. The only saving grace was that the Killers seemed reluctant to risk hitting each other now that their armour had been compromised.

“Their weapons would probably mess the interiors of their own ships up good,” Chris agreed, when she mentioned that out loud. “Or would their black holes merely absorb all the power?”

Paula shrugged as another Killer starship staggered under a wave of implosion bolts. Somehow, they were using their entire hull surface as a weapon; they lacked weapon blisters or missile tubes. Damaging entire kilometres of the hull didn’t seem to prevent them from returning fire, although it seemed to limit their field of fire slightly. If the entire hull material could be removed… but it couldn’t be destroyed quickly; the implosion bolts only took out a few meters of hull material, at most. The Killer starships were still deadly dangerous.

“No way to know,” she said, looking down at the black hole she’d created. The Shiva Hole — as she had decided to call it — was barely visible now, but there were still some hints of the remaining gases from the star. When the battle was won — if the battle was won — she would have to begin the immensely more dangerous task of tuning the black hole to use it as a communications device. The whole process was rooted completely in theory. She, for the first time in far too long, would be performing genuine original science. “One way or the other, we’ll find out soon.”

* * *

“They’re working as a team now, sir,” Gary reported, as the Lightning narrowly avoided certain death by a completely random burst of fire. The Killers had pulled all their starships together and were working to cover each other, an unprecedented display of concern about their human opponents, although they were still winning. The Killer starships had been damaged — all of the starships had lost parts of their hull material — yet they were still dangerous. “We’re just not making enough of an impact.”

Andrew nodded, bitterly. The antimatter weapons, deployed against the interior of the Killer starships, should have ended the fighting in short order. Instead, they seemed to be snuffed out as soon as they were deployed, leaving particle beams and energy torpedoes to wreck havoc on the Killer starships. It just wasn’t good enough. He had the grim certainty that they’d started a battering match that would only end when one side was completely wiped out… and the human race had already lost two hundred and seven starships. Their deaths hadn’t been in vain, but the Killers hadn’t even lost a single ship.

“Lock particle beams on the exposed areas of their hull,” he ordered, shortly. “The attack wing will follow us in and bombard the areas we target.”

“Understood, sir,” Gary said. He sounded tired; for the first time, Andrew understood why the Killers sought such close harmony between their biological bodies and their technology. If they ever got tired, no human had ever seen any evidence of it. “I have weapons locked on target.”

Andrew nodded to David. “Go,” he said. “Take us in.”

The Lightning spun on its axis and dived down towards the immense Killer starship, running through a series of evasive manoeuvres to avoid incoming bursts of fire. The Killers seemed to have problems targeting multiple foes at once, although Andrew had to keep cautioning himself that that might be nothing more than wishful thinking; the sheer volume of firepower they could put out was daunting in its own right. They drew more fire as they zoomed closer, but none of the Killer blasts came close enough to blow the Lightning into dust.

“Weapons locked on target,” Gary said. “We are engaging the enemy.”

Andrew watched as the particle beams dug deep into the Killer starship, vaporising metal and burning through deep into the interior. The strange Killer atmosphere — which they now knew to be representative of a gas giant — was streaming from a dozen holes, yet the damage wasn’t deep enough to be fatal. Gary launched a spread of energy torpedoes into another rent, but half of the spread smashed against an protected section of the hull, and the remainder simply didn’t inflict much damage. Andrew was sure, looking at the power curves as they ran over the Killer starship, that they were hurting the enemy ship, but it showed no inclination to run, or to die.

Gary added a spread of implosion bolts as they roared up and over an undamaged part of the Killer hull. The Killers returned fire with a cold fury that seemed to rend and tear at space itself, but somehow the Lightning escaped destruction. The tiny explosions — tiny, but so devastating n the long run — sparkled on the Killer hull, before they were swept away by particle beams from oncoming human starships. The Lightning climbed away from the Killer starship, firing another spread of energy torpedoes and noisemakers to cover its flight; David avoided the last two bursts of Killer weapons fire with ease. The Killers had other targets to engage.

“Two more starships were destroyed in the run,” Gary said, shortly. Andrew nodded once and pushed his feelings away into the back of his mind. They’d mourn later. If there was a later. It was easy to build hundreds of destroyers, even factoring in the new weapons, but harder to train the crews, even though the Community had had plenty of volunteers after the Killers attacked human settlements… and humanity had proven that they could be beaten. “Another… sir!”

Andrew turned and saw one of the starships. Somehow, it had been hit, but survived. It was falling down towards the Killer starship, using the last vestiges of its drive field to point itself right at the target and ramped up the drive to full power. It flew right into one of the damaged sections of the Killer hull and exploded. A moment later, a series of massive explosions tore the Killer starship apart. There was nothing left of it, but a wavefront of expanding plasma and radiation.

“Sir, the Melbourne and the Payback are launching suicide runs,” Gary reported. Andrew stared in numb disbelief. The starship commanders were ignoring all signals from the command ships, or entities from their friends, but launching themselves against the enemy. The Payback’s Captain, he recalled suddenly, had lost family at Asimov. He had been the first to grasp the possible uses of the new weapons. “They’re throwing themselves right at the Killers!”

Two minutes later, three more Killer starships died.

Chapter Thirty

Chiyo found herself looking onto a scene from hell.

She had been studying the Killer communications network — and trying to understand some of the Killer race memories she had figured out how to access — when she’d sensed a wave of alarm rushing through the network that played unwilling host to her. She’d thought, at first, that one of her duplicates had been detected, or that Chiyo Prime herself had been located, but the Killer mind had seemed unconcerned about its own security. Instead, she had become aware — as it had become aware — of new gravity waves sweeping across the galaxy, marking a sudden change in the universe itself.

It was hard to know just what she was actually sensing — she couldn’t tell if the gravity waves were reaching her starship or if the Killer was merely sensing a change in the overall fabric of space — but she could sense the Killer minds reaching their conclusion. It was unlikely in the extreme, they seemed to decide, although she wasn’t sure even if she was understanding them properly, that the star would suddenly have become a black hole. The conclusion was obvious; the enemy — the human race, Chiyo knew, unless a new player had entered the field — had moved on from creating supernovas to creating black holes. It had to be terminated, now.

A wormhole had formed around her starship and she had sensed its leap through space to a rendezvous location, where thirty-two other Killer starships had materialised. The Killer mind had monitored the creation of the black hole while waiting for its allies — Chiyo found it oddly reassuring that the single starship hadn’t gone charging in itself — and as soon as the remainder of the fleet assembled, had ordered an advance. Chiyo wasn’t sure if her starship was actually the leader — it was so hard to gain more than vague impressions of what they were saying to each other — but it did seem to be taking the lead. Space warped around it again and, when the wormhole had collapsed, revealed a black hole only a few AUs away from their new position.

Chiyo watched, fascinated, as the starships raced towards the black hole. The Defence Force had never studied black holes too closely — they had been more concerned with probing Killer star systems — and she had only seen one at a distance, although the Technical Faction had proved them closely, often at a cost of the starship doing the probing. A single starship hung in orbit near the black hole; Chiyo guessed, in a moment of dark humour, that the Captain had probably taken one look at the advancing Killer fleet and wet himself. The human ship was completely outmatched.

And then the human starships had arrived and the battle had begun. Chiyo had been stunned at the pain and shock in the Killer mind when the human weapons actually inflicted damage for the first time, ever. Systems that were so old that they had literally worn away, even on a starship that was effectively bonded with the mind controlling it, were pressed into service to repair the damage, even as the Killers gritted their teeth and fought back savagely. They had never experienced such pain in their entire lives, yet they held on and returned fire. Chiyo would have been impressed under other circumstances, she decided, but their stubbornness was costing human lives. She watched, unable to understand why the antimatter weapons weren’t working, until the first starship rammed a Killer ship. A moment later, two more followed… and the Killers lost their first starships in combat, since…

There was no sense of time — she wasn’t even sure if the Killers had any concept of time as humans reckoned it — but she had the strong impression that the Killers hadn’t died in a very long time. They were effectively immortal, she knew; they had no real concept of death, just… stagnation. The deaths of three of their number shocked them, the more so because they lacked anything like the MassMind, as far as she could tell. Humanity had invented religions to give the human race some concept of life after death, but the Killers… had not. Whatever drove them wasn’t anything that a human could understand. For an immortal to die, to be exposed to the fates, had to be terrifying. Their response to the human kamikaze starships would be drastic.

There’s no more time, she thought, grimly. She had already prepared her messenger — a duplicate of herself — and planned her moves carefully. The duplicate had been compressed down to a tiny data file — she had probably violated yet another legal restriction, she decided, although it would be interesting to see if the Community could legally prosecute her for hurting herself — and she swept her up into the Killer’s data stream. The Killers used constant low-level transmissions to communicate with themselves — it made little sense to her, but she was sure that she understood what they were doing, if not why — but she had another use in mind. She launched herself into the transmission stream, took a breath she knew she no longer needed, and pushed the signal out into open space. One way or the other, the die was definitely cast.

* * *

“Evasive action,” Andrew snapped, as the Killer starship loomed closer. The starships should have been cumbersome, sitting ducks for the far more nimble human ships, but now they were throwing themselves around the battlezone like flies. They were still firing, a mocking reminder that there were still thirty Killer starships near the black hole and that they still had the power to wipe out the human force. Andrew wasn’t sure, even, how the Lightning had survived. One blast had come close enough to scorch the hull. “Keep us spinning and return fire!”

Another spread of implosion bolts shot out of the ship, hacking away at the Killer hull material and opening new targets for more conventional weapons. The Killers were trying to avoid a fourth ramming attack, Andrew realised, yet they couldn’t avoid one forever. A starship made a run for an exposed section of the Killer hull, only to be blasted into vapour before it could ramp up its drive and fly right into the damaged area. Another twisted and feinted, before firing a spread of energy torpedoes into another rent, sending tiny explosions glaring into the darkness of space. The Killer starship heeled like a wounded whale, before recovering and blowing the human starship into dust.

“I have new targets,” Gary said. “Request permission to engage.”

“Fire at will,” Andrew snapped. The old rejoinder — failing that, fire at Fred — surfaced in his mind and he pushed it down savagely. “Helm, take us in to point blank range and strafe the bastards.”

“Working on it,” David said. The starship twisted and rocketed down towards the Killer ship, firing as it came. Gary fired an entire spread of energy torpedoes into a gaping hole and was rewarded by the sight of a burst of gas blowing out of the side of the starship. The vaporised interior material lit up space for a second before it cooled and faded out of existence. “Pulling away…”

The starship shook violently. “What the hell,” Andrew demanded, “was that?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” David said. “A random gravity fluctuation…?”

“Get on to the Technical observers and tell them to tell us what it was,” Andrew snapped. “And then…”

“Sir, the Havoc,” Gary said, suddenly. “She’s in trouble.”

Andrew snapped the live feed into his console. The Havoc had been zooming towards a Killer starship with the intention of ramming the ship — or, perhaps, trying to convince the Killers that they intended to ram. She was stopped, dead in space, twitching violently against an invisible force holding her in place. The starship was buckling even as he watched; a moment later, it broke apart and vaporised as the quantum tap blew, causing a massive explosion. There had been no time for anyone to get to the lifepods.

“Hellfire,” he snapped. “What was that?”

“Unknown,” the AI said. There was a sudden change in its voice. “Alert; possible viral software detected!”

Andrew blinked. The Killers didn’t attempt to hack into human computers. It wasn’t their style. “Report,” he snapped. “Who’s attempting to hack into the system?”

There was a long pause, an eternity in computer time. “Uncertain,” the AI said, finally. “We picked up a transmission from one of the Killer ships containing a compressed human mind pattern.”

“A compressed human mind pattern?” Andrew asked. “What the…?”

“Confirmed,” the AI said. “The pattern is definitely human, the product of a Community personality recording implant, standard issue. I have placed the compressed pattern in suspension and will alert the MassMind. Further analysis here may put the ship in danger.”

“Cut yourself out of the local command network,” Andrew ordered, shortly. “If you’re contaminated, we don’t want it spreading throughout the fleet.”

“Yes, sir,” the AI said.

Andrew pushed the mystery to the back of his mind and looked over at David. “Take us back into the fight,” he ordered, “but be ready to run if they start trying to rip us apart.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. The display flickered for a second as a fourth Killer starship blew up and vaporised. A moment later, a fifth followed it as two starships rammed it in quick succession. There was no way to know, but Andrew would have bet good money that the Killers couldn’t replace their losses any faster — if that — than the human Defence Force. It only took three days to build a destroyer, yet a destroyer was tiny; an Iceberg-class ship was massive. How long would it take them to replace their losses? “Do you think it could be an attempt to communicate?”

Andrew shook his head. “Why would they send us a human mind pattern to communicate?” He asked. If it was an attempt to communicate, how had the Killers known how to do it? Had they taken a human alive after all? They’d certainly had the opportunity… and there were billions whose deaths had never been confirmed. “It makes no sense at all.”

* * *

Paula watched grimly as another human starship was ripped apart before it could ram a Killer starship amidships. “It’s unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head in awe. A human mind might have thought of such a system, but actually deploying it in combat? Anything could go badly wrong. “They’re actually using focused gravity beams as a weapon. The power levels it uses must be astronomical.”

“Never mind that now,” Chris snapped, shortly. “Can they counter it?”

“We should be able to tune the warp fields to compensate for sudden unexpected changes in the gravity field,” Paula said, slowly. Gravity technology was her area of expertise, after all, and she was learning more from the Killers than they would have liked, if they were even aware of her existence. “I can write them a formula for it, but their AIs should be able to counter it… hell, if they manage to alter their attack patterns, they should be able to prevent the Killers from taking out more than one or two craft. They won’t be able to maintain that kind of power generation and deployment for long.”

Chris frowned. “Are you sure of that?” He asked. “We’ve underestimated them before?”

Paula shrugged as another Killer starship died. The odds were turning rapidly against the Killers, she realised, even though she had never claimed to be a military tactician. They had to prevent any and all human starships from ramming — and there seemed to be no shortage of commanders willing to commit suicide to take down a Killer ship — while the humans only had to get lucky once. The fleet might have been reduced sharply — the once-neat attack wings had been broken up and destroyers were flying with whatever wingmen they could scrape up — but there were still far more human starships than there were Killer ships. She was rather surprised that the Killers had decided to continue the fight, rather than opening wormholes and escaping across the galaxy.

“I managed to get some background figures on what they could handle onboard their ships,” Paula said, finally. The hours spent studying the captured ship had answered all kinds of questions, and raised thousands more. “Projecting such massive gravity beams would require…”

Her voice broke off. “That’s how they’re doing it,” she said, slowly. “They have a black hole on each of those starships and… they’re using the black hole as a source of the gravity beams. Damn; that’s clever. They’re creating the power by skimming it off the black hole and running it through the focusing fields. I wonder how they actually compensate for the gravity flux… no, they counter that by using their own fields to handle it.”

She shook her head. “It should be easy enough to watch for a sudden rise in gravity fields and set the warp drive to get the starship out of range,” she added. “I’d give anything to know just how they do it.”

Chris gave her a wry look. “I thought you intended to use Shiva to learn how they do it,” he said. He grinned at her. “Wouldn’t that be cheating?”

Paula scowled at him. “Trust you to see it that way,” she said. She saw no reason why she shouldn’t steal the answers from the Killers if she could. That might solve other questions as well. A nasty thought had been lurking at the back of her mind, a sense of just what the Killers could do if they decided to apply themselves to the task. “It’s terrifying, though; with enough power and patience, they could dismantle the entire galaxy.”

* * *

“Watch out for gravity flux,” Andrew warned, as the attack fleet closed in on another Killer starship. The massive starship rotated with terrifying speed, bringing its weapons to bear on the human ships, which split up as bolts of white light flared out towards them. Their speed was still greater than the Killers — and a flurry of implosion bolts began wrecking havoc on the Killer hull — but the Killers were still fighting. Andrew had long since lost his admiration for their sheer bloody-minded determination. He just wanted the fight to end. The Killers had lost ten massive starships. A human enemy would have withdrawn to rethink matters. The Killers kept fighting. “Fire at will.”

The Killer starship staggered under their blows. A moment later, it blew away two of its tiny tormentors, while a third vanished in the blue flash of warp drive before it could be torn apart by a gravity field. The Lightning slipped into a complicated series of spinning evasive manoeuvres — firing all the time — before it pulled up and escaped, seconds before it would have crashed into the hull. The other starships followed, their weapons digging deeper into the Killer hull, before they too escaped with ease. The Killer starship was dying. Its hull material had been reduced so much that it was far less capable of returning fire. It was only a matter of time before it was battered to rubble and destroyed.

“Concentrate fire on the drive section,” Andrew ordered, as the destroyers came around for another run. If they could take out the limitations controlling the black hole, the results should be explosive. It might not matter. Andrew was grimly aware that other Captains were making their own preparations for suicide runs; backing up their personality recordings, allowing crewmen to escape their ships and taking direct command of their final flight. In time, he was sure, the Defence Force would deploy automated ramming ships; it would save lives and prevent the Admiral ever having to ask someone to commit suicide. There was no longer any need for suicidal stands against the Killers. They could hurt them now.

“Engaging,” Gary said, as the massed firepower of the remaining attack wing dug deep into the Killer’s interior. The starship shuddered under their fire. “I think we’re hitting heavier shielding deeper inside the ship; the particle beams aren’t having a greater effect…”

“Keep firing,” Andrew snapped. A thought struck him. There was no reason why the Killers couldn’t use their hull armour material — and supporting power — further inside the ship. The black hole would provide the power for its own incarceration. “Deploy implosion bolts if necessary…”

“Gravity flux,” David barked. The starship heeled drunkenly to starboard before stabilising and flying straight for as long as they dared, around two seconds. It was long enough to evade any chance of being caught and destroyed. “They’re opening a wormhole!”

Andrew saw the icon blossoming open and enveloping the Killer starship, which dived into the wormhole and escaped the human fleet. It left behind considerable amounts of space junk and debris floating in space. He looked down at the display as new wormholes blossomed into life, swallowing the remaining twenty-one Killer starships, ending the fight… no, one of them had remained in the fight. It was still firing at his ships.

“Scan that ship,” he ordered, as the Killer ship picked off a Defence Force starship that had come too close. The other starships regrouped at a safe distance before advancing on the final target. “Why is it still here?”

“Low power curves,” Gary said, after a moment. The image of the Killer starship floated in front of Andrew, looking as formidable as ever. It was still firing, even if it hadn’t escaped. It was still in the fight. “I suspect that it lacks the power to open a wormhole.”

Andrew smiled. It would have been easy — and that was a great change — to destroy the Killer ship, but he had another idea. “Contact the Footsoldiers,” he ordered. “I want them to take that ship and its controlling mind intact.”

“Aye, sir,” Gary said. He paused, suddenly. “The risks will be considerable.”

Andrew surprised himself by laughing. “No, Gary, the risks were considerable before we developed the new weapons,” he said. “Now we can fight and hurt the bastards on more even terms.”

Chapter Thirty-One

“This was a dumb idea,” Private Ron Friedman muttered to himself, as the transport floated closer to the trapped Killer starship. “We should have come in with the suits instead.”

“Silence in the ranks,” Sergeant Michael Francis Carey barked, although Ron suspected that he privately agreed. The tiny transport should have been hard for the Killers to locate, let alone kill, but it was a much bigger target than two hundred separate Footsoldiers wearing powered combat armour. “Prepare to debus!”

Another flicker of white light flared off in the distance as the Killer ship shouted its defiance of the human gnats tormenting it. The Defence Force starships were circling, like hyenas circling a wounded lion — not that Ron or anyone else outside the MassMind had seen a lion — and distracting it, nipping in to fire a few bursts of particle beams or energy torpedoes into the hull, before pulling back before it could gore them. The sheer immensity of the starship — and the powerful force fields holding it together — made taking it apart a difficult task. Ron wondered, absently, why the starship commanders hadn’t unleashed their antimatter warheads, or even good old-fashioned nukes, but perhaps they’d decided they wanted a trophy on their wall. Who knew what went through the mind of starship commanders? They enjoyed nice clean ships and clean living, while the Footsoldiers slogged through the metaphorical mud and grime. They probably thought that the Footsoldiers would be able to take the ship as an afterthought — and then they could claim credit for it.

On the other hand, he decided, as the transport ducked low and zoomed through a massive gash in the Killer’s hull, it does beat shepherding refugees around the Community…

“Out, now,” the Sergeant barked. Tubes opened and expelled the Footsoldiers into space, their sensors coming online and rapidly scanning for possible threats. No one expected the Killer mind in command of the vessel to react quickly, but they’d already lost one ship to Footsoldiers and probably wouldn’t want to lose a second. “Form up; section leaders, on me.”

Ron allowed the suit to guide him towards Lieutenant Drake, his section leader, and winced inwardly. His old unit had been a finely-tuned machine, commanded by a Captain most of them had referred to, in private, as the Iron Bitch. The new unit consisted of Footsoldiers from fifty different units that had been scattered by the Killer blitzkrieg and they had barely spent any time training together. He’d looked up the stats on the commanding officers and had been mildly reassured, but it was almost like his first day in a suit, with the entire unit blundering everywhere. It would have made for some comedy in a training camp, yet in combat, it would get people killed.

“Follow me,” Drake ordered, slowly, and glided down towards a wide-open gash further into the hull. The interior of the Killer starship looked torn and melted, as if someone had taken a blowtorch to plastic and metal, yet it still managed to convey a sense of alienness that spooked him, even though he knew that the Killers had been defeated — for the first time, ever. The destruction of a star — and an entire Killer settlement — had been remarkable, but now humans had fought the Killers toe-to-toe and won. Perhaps, he decided, as he glided further into the massive ship, the starship commanders knew what they were doing after all.

The local atmosphere had gone, the suit informed him; they were floating in a pure vacuum, with only a tiny gravity pull drawing them towards the rear of the vessel. The online specs for the Killer starship weren’t that helpful — they all seemed to have different interiors and in any case they’d been thoroughly disrupted by human weapons — but he knew that that was where the Killer stored their black hole. Idly, he wondered what would happen if the Killer starship, black hole and all, was pointed towards the Shiva Hole. Would the two black holes coexist, or would one swallow the other? No one had ever expected the Footsoldiers to be fighting on the edge of a black hole.

He checked his plasma rifle again as they passed through what looked like a battered airlock, into a deeper section of the ship. It was lit up by frequent discharges of energy that seemed to have no apparent cause, unless the Killer starship’s entire power grid was backfiring and on the verge of collapse. There was no way to know for sure until the Technical Faction pulled a research team together and sent them to take possession of the hulk, but Drake’s orders — updating frequently in his HUD — warned them to stay away from the lights. Who knew what they could do to the human Footsoldiers?

Probably nothing, Ron concluded, although he suspected that Drake was right. One particular Footsoldier training exercise had the trainees, totally naked and unarmed, being told to find their way through a particularly innocent-looking compartment in a starship. The careful trainees stayed well away from anything that looked remotely suspicious, the less-cautious ones died in explosions or were trapped in paralysis beams — all simulated, of course. He’d trained in exercises that involved delaying a boarding party for as long as possible and there was no reason why the Killers couldn’t do the same. They might have their own contingency plans…

The gravity pull suddenly increased a thousand-fold, sending the Footsoldiers crashing to the deck. If the suits hadn’t compensated automatically, the entire platoon would have been wiped out, along with the other platoons on their own missions. As it was, red lights flared up over four suit icons, warning of broken limbs and one head injury, even within the suits. Drake halted the platoon long enough to access the damage, before ordering the injured to take sedatives and allow their suits to get them back out of the Killer starship, back to the transport. Two of them protested, claiming that they could still use the suits with broken legs, but Drake sent them back anyway. The remaining Footsoldiers struggled forwards until the gravity field suddenly collapsed again, allowing them to float onwards into the hulk.

“Keep the antigravity fields on full,” Drake ordered. No one argued. After the Killer had wiped out a third of the platoon, no one felt like taking chances. They could counter that trick, but what else did the Killers have up its sleeve? Ron accessed the reports from the first two penetrations of Killer starships and scowled. The captured starship had also deployed automatons to face the human intruders. “Keep an eye out for other threats…”

“Yes, sir,” Ron said, with the others. It was an unnecessary warning. Everyone was jumpy after the gravity field had fluctuated around their position. It was more worrying to realise that the sensor drones they’d deployed hadn’t reported any shifts in the local gravity near them — the implications were easy to understand. The Killer knew where they were. It would be easier penetrating a human starship. If they’d boarded a human ship, they could have used the suit AI to hack into the human computer network and take it over, but no one knew how to do that — yet — with a Killer system. He snorted to himself. The Technical Faction would probably figure out the answer tomorrow, after it was useless. “Standing by…”

A motion caught the suit’s sensors as they pushed further down into the next section; a pair of automatons were working on a piece of machinery, trying — he guessed — to repair it. There was nothing humanoid about the Killer machines; they looked more like giant octopuses, or perhaps spiders. They moved and flexed from form to form as they worked on their task. He covered them automatically with his plasma rifle, but they ignored him, concentrating on their work.

“Sir?” He asked. “Should I kill them?”

Drake didn’t hesitate. “Kill them,” he ordered. “Now.”

Ron squeezed the trigger and shot a pulse of superheated plasma into the first Killer automaton, which exploded and melted down into a mass of useless metal. The second automaton turned and looked at him — he was sure it was looking, even though he could see no eyes — and he was suddenly convinced that it was aware of his presence. It wasn’t a good feeling. He shifted his targeting, took aim, and fired a second shot. The automation exploded into fiery debris.

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” another Private said. “You the man, Ron.”

“Quite,” Drake agreed. He led them off down the long corridor towards the rear of the ship, which was still a dozen kilometres away. The suits could get them there in bare minutes, if it were a straight run, which it wasn’t. At least they’d located the command centre of the Killer starship. “Come on.”

Ron took point as they moved further into the ship, but they saw only a handful of automatons at a distance, and they moved out of the way before they were shot. Miss one and you miss the whole fucking lot, he thought, as he lowered the plasma rifle; the target had vanished into a cranny and there was no point in chasing it. The Killers were definitely aware of their presence now, he decided, and they had to know where they would go. They weren’t picking their way through cracks in the hull any longer, but running down corridors the Killers would know better than the human intruders. It didn’t strike him as a wise idea, but a quick check revealed that they didn’t have anything heavy enough to burn through the walls. The Killers might not have used their indestructible — formerly indestructible — hull material to line the interiors of their ships, an oversight that they might have come to regret, but whatever it was, it was tough.

“We’ll have to figure out a way to produce handheld implosion bolt guns,” he said, finally. “We’ll need to be more random if we keep breaking into these ships.”

“True,” Drake said. They entered a long corridor with mirrored walls. Ron caught sight of his own reflection — a man wearing a massive black suit of armour — and smiled to himself. A moment later, he stopped smiling. The wall was changing in front of his eyes, shifting like water. Drake noticed a second later. “Stand at the ready…”

The wall seemed to shimmer, just a few meters from their position, and an automaton appeared, coming right out of the wall. It turned to face the Footsoldiers and extended a set of weapons. Ron shot it instinctively, only to see the plasma pulse vanish in the flare of a forcefield. He shot it again and again as the automaton advanced, finally overloading the force shield and destroying the automaton.

“Fall back,” Drake ordered, as other automatons appeared from the walls, their weapons already raised and ready. There were dozens of different designs now, some of them almost humanoid, all deadly. None of them seemed to carry energy weapons, for a reason that made sense to Killer minds and no sense to a human, but it hardly mattered. They could tear the entire team apart. “Fall…”

“The way back is blocked,” one of the Privates snapped. They were all firing now, trying to cut down the automatons before they could reach the suits and tear them apart. The report from Captain Kelsey had made it clear. The Killers could break through the suits with ease. “We’re trapped.”

“As you were,” Drake roared. “Ron; grenades, front and centre.”

“Aye, sir,” Ron said, activating his grenade launcher and firing a spread of grenades down the corridor. They exploded a second later — the suit protected them from the effects — and tore hundreds of automatons to shreds. Others advanced a moment later to take their places. He threw a second spread and watched as the newcomers died, only to be replaced moments later. “Sir…”

“Forward,” Drake snapped. “Leap!”

Ron mentally kicked himself for forgetting, just before he leapt into the air, using the suit’s muscles to propel him up and over the Killer automatons. The others followed him seconds later, laying down covering fire as they double-timed it down the corridor, running down towards the Killer control centre. The Killer had to have prepared a nastier surprise, Ron decided. Nothing else could explain why the Killer had allowed them to keep moving forward. Another automaton advanced and he blew it away quickly, before firing off yet another spread of grenades. The Killer mind controlling the automatons simply couldn’t react fast enough, yet there was something terrible in their implacable advance, as if they knew that the humans would stumble and fall. It won’t be long, they seemed to say, before you are ours…

“Sir…!”

The despairing cry faded as Ron turned, just in time to see one of the suit’s cracking open under an assault from one of the automatons. He blew it away at once, but it was too late for the Footsoldier — Ron couldn’t even remember his name. They should have been closer than brothers, but there hadn’t been time to get to know one another before they’d been sent on their crazy mission. The red icons told of his final struggle for life… and his defeat. The suit was too damaged even to preserve the body.

“Leave him,” Drake ordered, grimly. Ron opened his mouth to protest — the Footsoldiers never left their own behind, never — but there was no choice. The advancing automatons would have them all if they stopped to recover the body. “Come on.”

They ran further into the Killer starship, allowing the suit’s augmentation to drive them forward faster than the automatons could move. The Killers reacted in their cold style, sending more automatons to confront them, or twisting the local gravity field — although now they had the antigravity fields on permanently, it prevented them from being caught and trapped by the sudden changes. The walls seemed to shimmer and glow around them; one Footsoldier was killed, somehow, by a grey cloud that somehow enveloped him and tore him apart. Ron decided, after a moment, that they had to be rogue nanites, but if the Killers could do that safely, why didn’t they wipe out the entire team?

“The command centre is just down here,” Drake snapped. Ron nodded. The deep interior of the Killer starship appeared to be identical to the other examined ships, something to be grateful for. If they had had to search for it, he had a nasty feeling that the automatons would catch them before they could find it and somehow capture the Killer. It dawned on him, suddenly, that they had no way of talking to the Killer, let alone convincing it to surrender. They did have the drill for dealing with humanoid races — which had never been tested in the field — but would the Killers understand?

Damn it, he thought, as the five remaining Footsoldiers crossed through the plain — taking care to stay away from the walls — and into the command centre. This whole mission was badly planned from the start.

The command centre looked identical to the one the previous missions had located — and utterly alien. A glowing sphere sat in the centre of the room, filled with strange pearly light and biological compounds; they now knew that that was the Killer. Strong columns, also glowing with light, linked it into the remainder of the ship, but how strong was its link to the interior? Did it know that there were humans in its ship, or did it merely consider the Footsoldiers to be unthinking automatons like its own devices? It might not even have realised that humans existed independently of their technology.

He looked over at Drake. “Now what?”

Drake lifted his plasma cannon and took aim at the sphere. “Can you hear me?”

There was no response, apart from the arrival of hundreds of automatons at each of the entrances to the command centre. They were trapped. Ron looked at them and powered up his weapons for a final stand. Drake was bluffing, he knew; whatever the sphere was made from, it would easily resist the plasma fire when he tried to kill it. Only nanites had penetrated the last sphere and killed the alien monster…

“They’re advancing,” Charlie snapped. The Footsoldier opened fire savagely on the automatons, but they just kept advancing, pushing the humans up against the sphere. A moment later, Charlie and one other died, torn apart by the advancing metal creatures. Their suits could no longer protect them.

Drake opened fire, desperately. The plasma blasts ricocheted off the sphere and spun around the room. He turned and opened fire on the automatons, launching grenades and other weapons into their throng, trying to take as many of them out as possible. Ron had a different idea. There was no longer any point in trying to communicate. He activated his nanotech cutting tool — a monofilament blade — and started to dig into the sphere…

The tool broke. The Killers knew what had killed the previous Killer and had adapted. They’d somehow proofed their stronghold against nanotechnology. There was no way to kill the alien. And if they couldn’t kill the alien, they couldn’t kill the ship.

“Oh, you son of a bitch,” Ron breathed, shaking his head. Drake’s final cry broke his trance. His commanding officer had done as well as could be expected, and yet he was dead, killed by a dumb automaton. It would be his turn soon enough. There was no hope of escape, yet there was one weapon left to use. “You suck so very much.”

He powered up the suit’s autodestruct, clung onto the sphere as hard as he could, and triggered the sequence. The explosion shattered the sphere and, too late, the Killer starship became dark and lifeless. The automatons stopped their motions and collapsed onto the deck. The final act of the starship was to cap the black hole and prevent it from breaking loose and destroying the entire ship.

The Battle of Shiva was over.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“I take it there’s still no sign that they have detected us?”

“There is no sign that they have decided to take notice of us,” the AI said, flatly. Lieutenant Justin Herald, known as Joe to his friends after an embarrassing mix-up at the training centre, could have sworn he heard a hint of irritation in the AIs voice. Most AIs never developed a sense of emotions, even if they had been designed to have that capability, but some developed them at the oddest times. Being cooped up in a tiny scout ship with a single human probably encouraged the AI to learn frustration and boredom. “I cannot swear that they have not detected us.”

“Ah,” Justin said, dryly. “They may have just decided to ignore us.”

“Precisely,” the AI agreed. There was a sudden note of warning in its voice. “However, after the Footsoldiers captured a Killer starship and they launched their blitzkrieg against human space, hundreds of observers and picketing starships have been wiped out by the Killers. It would be foolish to assume that they intend to continue ignoring us.”

“Assuming, of course, that that have detected us,” Justin said. He gave the AI’s console a cheeky grin. “If they haven’t detected us, they can’t make the decision to ignore us, can they?”

The AI didn’t bother to respond. Justin suspected that that meant that the AI didn’t want to continue the discussion, or perhaps that it regarded the whole discussion as foolish. It was probably right — it was a silly argument — but Justin had been on station, alone, for over a year. He was desperate for something to happen, even if it involved having to dodge an outraged Killer starship or fly through one of their gravity beams. Fifteen months was too long to be alone. He wanted a hotel, comfortable sheets and some company — he was past caring if it were male or female. The virtual reality simulator had its limits. He could program it to do anything he wanted, but none of it would be real, or spontaneous. It wouldn’t be anything more than a form of masturbation.

He smiled to himself, threw a mock salute at the AI’s console, and turned back to the reports from the hundreds of tiny passive sensors that the Defence Force had scattered throughout the system. The star system, bearing the unlikely name of Killer #34, was one of their major bases — and the closest one to Shiva. Justin was rather surprised that the Defence Force hadn’t targeted the star with a supernova bomb — it would have wiped out massive Killer factories, along with two gas giants and their suspected populations — but perhaps it was only a matter of time. He’d been warned to be on the lookout for Killer activity that suggested that they were preparing a new offensive, but there was no way to know just what they were thinking. If they were talking to each other, sharing intelligence or bullshitting about their latest sexual conquests — if Killers had sexual conquests — even the most advanced sensors the Community had designed couldn’t pick it up, let alone read it. There were only the low-level RF transmissions, seemingly nothing more than static, which seemed to be associated with every Killer installation. No one knew why that happened, although the general theory was that the Killers were natural radio transmitters and it was how they communicated in their natural habitat.

It was still am impressive sight, although he knew that humans could have duplicated it, if they’d not been trying to hide. The Killers had built massive structures out of the debris of several rocky planets — a shipyard, a massive fabrication complex and God alone knew what else — and defended them with several of their dreaded starships. No humans had dared approach the system without taking every precaution to remain hidden; as far as he knew, he was completely undetectable. No one knew if the Killers could sense his presence — even the tiny scout would make an impression on the fabric of space-time — but they hadn’t bothered to chase him away. His observations, he’d been told, might one day lead to the defeat of the Killers. It didn’t stop them being boring.

“We should just hit their goddamned star,” he muttered. “Hey, Brainy; can’t we take out the star ourselves?”

“No,” the AI replied, with a definite trace of strained patience. It was easier for the AI; it could link into the MassMind and correspond with hundreds of other AIs and human personalities. Justin had never been able to quite accept the MassMind personalities as real. He was no Radical Organic, who would believe that there was something sinful in trying to cheat death, but he just couldn’t see the connection. His mother and father had downloaded into the MassMind years ago, yet he rarely talked to them. Were they really his parents, or just computer programs that thought they were his parents? “We do not have the fabrication capability to produce a supernova bomb.”

“I know,” Justin said, tiredly. He’d read hundreds of posts in the various discussion forums he frequented concerning the supernova bomb and how it might be deployed, but they’d been short on technical details. Besides, blowing up a star probably violated some Defence Force regulation; there was certainly a regulation against unauthorised contact with the Killers. Every so often, a group of idiot Darwinists or Killer Worshipers set off to make contact with the Killers and inevitably ended up dead, if the Defence Force didn’t arrest them first. Their idols killed them for daring to approach. They never took the hint and realised that the lack of a Killer response to their signals meant that they weren’t welcome. “But wouldn’t it be really cool?”

“It would be very warm,” Brainy said. It wasn’t the AI’s official designation, but Justin had insisted — pointing out that he would have to spend most of his time alone with the AI — and managed to get his way. “The temperatures released by a supernova would be hot enough to melt entire planets.”

Justin smiled. “That sounds like a sense of humour,” he said, dryly. The AI’s understatement was a nice touch. “And we would have roast Killer for dinner.

“Although analysis suggests that the Killers do have something in common with us, biologically, eating them would almost certainly result in poisoning and death,” Brainy said. “That would not include, of course, the certainty of radiation poisoning and other unpleasant fates. I was informed that you intended to die at seven hundred years old, in someone else’s bed.”

Justin smiled, openly. He’d said that to the AI once, when they’d been preparing for their mission — and, of course, the AI would never forget. It might even have approved. Humans tended to be more suicidal than AIs, even though AIs were considered expendable and humans were not, despite the promise of eternal life in the MassMind. An AI had no doubts about continuity. Brainy could run its pattern in another computer core and remain certain that it was the same AI.

He had wondered, in fact, why the Defence Force risked a human pilot and a scout ship at all. There was no reason why the sensor platforms couldn’t be controlled from light years away — with quantum entanglement communications the platforms could be controlled from halfway across the galaxy, if necessary — and there was no need to risk Justin’s life, but it was procedure and not to be questioned by mere mortals. He’d spent a few days researching it once and had concluded that the Defence Force, back in the days before Anderson Drive and trustworthy AIs, had decided that having a human input would always be useful. It made a certain kind of sense — most AIs lacked real imagination — but why did he have to be in the system itself? All it did was focus the mind… on the fact that it was a bare few AUs from the most powerful race in existence, one that destroyed human worlds for fun.

Hell, he thought. Why couldn’t that be the reason why the Killers slaughtered every other race they encountered. Maybe they thought it was funny!

“Give me a breakdown on their current energy emissions,” he said, finally. The Killers used gravity like the human race used electric power, or quantum taps. It struck him as odd — they should have been able to use quantum taps of their own — but perhaps they just preferred black holes. “I want you to…”

“Alert,” the AI said, suddenly. “I am picking up multiple wormholes opening within the outer star system.”

Justin pulled himself to his feet and ran towards the cockpit, throwing himself into the pilot’s seat and bringing up the helm console. “Report,” he snapped, as he checked the scout’s status. Their drives were cold, but they could be flash-woken within seconds. Unless the Killers were right on top of them, they should be able to escape before the Killers blocked them from using the Anderson Drive and ran them down. He’d seen others die that way, but he wouldn’t go that way, not if he had anything to say about it. “Are they coming after us?”

“I don’t think so,” Brainy said, plotting the location on the main display. “They’re actually heading away from us and…”

The AI’s voice seemed to change. “Justin,” it said, slowly. “The Killer starships have been in the wars.”

“You’re joking,” Justin said. He pushed the flippant side of his personality to the rear and concentrated on the reports from the passive sensors. “Do we have something close enough to eyeball them?”

“We have four probes close enough to get visual images,” the AI confirmed. “I’m downloading their live footage now.”

“And get it out of here as well,” Justin added. He sometimes tried to analyse the sensor take, but if the Killers decided to chase him out of the system, he wouldn’t have time. The human race had to know what he knew. “Get it to Intelligence and Sparta and everywhere else that might be able to use the data…”

“I have an image,” the AI cut him off. It appeared in front of him and Justin fell silent. “They’re definitely damaged.”

Justin said nothing. The mighty Killer starship, the most feared ship design in the galaxy, had been broken and torn. The once-invulnerable hull material had been cracked open in a hundred places, leaving carbon scoring marking the hull and signs of internal damage. It trailed a leak of glowing plasma, flaring out against the darkness of space before it faded into nothingness, suggesting that the battle to save the starship was barely underway. Justin was staggered — and impressed. No human starship could have survived that level of damage and carried on regardless.

He’d read a hundred tales of damaged starships somehow managing to make their way home after losing their FTL drives, but they were simple nonsense. No starship could take so much damage and keep flying, even at sublight speeds. It would have — should have — died in the vastness of space. The sight brought him to his feet in respectful silence, enemy ship or no, as it staggered home. No spacer could have been entirely unmoved by the sight.

The probe image panned out, revealing the other starships in the fleet. They were all damaged to some extent, some of them trailing even more plasma into space than the lead ship, somehow giving off a sense of defeat. No one who spent their entire lives amid starships could doubt that they had a personality of their own, even Killer starships, and these looked broken and battered. It shouldn’t have happened to us, they seemed to say; the universe has turned upside down.

“I don’t believe it,” Justin said, as the probe relayed an image of a gaping hole, revealing a broken and torn interior. “What happened to them? Did they run into something more powerful than themselves?”

“I am receiving a tactical download from Sparta,” Brainy said. There was a long pause as the AU stretched out the drama as far as it would go. “They would appear to be the survivors of the Battle of Shiva. The Killers retreated from the battlefield.”

Justin burst out laughing. “They fled,” he carolled in delight. If the AI had been human, he would have hugged it tightly. It wasn’t right, he would have admitted later, to gloat over the downfall of so many mighty starships, but they were the Killers! Every human in existence was raised to fear their wrath, their determination that no other forms of life but their own should exist, their invincible starships… and now they had been broken! They were still dangerous, but they were not invincible. “They ran from us!”

“So it would seem,” the AI agreed. There was a heavy note of satisfaction in its voice. “The Defence Force wants an update on their current status.”

Justin nodded. “Put us on a hair-trigger,” he said. Even damaged, so many Killer starships would have no problems making short work of his tiny scout. “If one of them even farts in our direction, I want us out of here.”

“Understood,” the AI said. “I am continuing to monitor their activities, but it does not seem if they are any more aware of our presence than the local Killers.”

“This has to be tearing holes in their morale,” Justin pointed out, as he pulled himself to his feet and walked over to the food processor. “Neat Scotch; no ice.”

Brainy made an unsettling electronic cough. “Are you drinking so early?”

“There’s something to celebrate,” Justin pointed out, as the drink formed in the processor. He took a single gulp and smiled as it ran down his throat. The personalities in the MassMind swore that it was far from the real thing, but Scotland and the Distillers had been blown away over a thousand years ago. “How often do you get to see a limping Killer fleet running home with its tail between its legs?”

“The Killers do not have tails,” Brainy pointed out, pedantically. “They are creatures composed of a free association of cells. They lack anything reassembling a human body, let alone tails.”

Justin shrugged and took a smaller sip. “I can’t imagine what it must be like for them,” he said. “Do you think that their butts sometimes vote to secede from their heads, or perhaps their legs rebel against their arms?”

“There is no way to be certain, but it seems likely they will have more of an AI-level merge rather than a human body, although they may have different cells for different functions,” Brainy said, after a moment in which he emitted a very human sigh. “They may merge into one mental pattern and then separate out again without any of the hassles that human group minds would experience…”

“I’d hate it if half my body went one way and the rest went the other,” Justin said, dryly. “I remember an old story when some dumb kid managed to work out how to talk to his body’s organs and learned that they thought he should eat less sweet junk.”

“Words to live by,” the AI said, mischievously. “Your body is probably rebelling against the remains of that drink.”

“I’d better have another one to suppress the revolution,” Justin said, and laughed, before he placed the glass in the disposal and turned to the observation console. “I want to build up as complete a picture of those ships as we can, even if we have to zone out parts of the remaining system. We can still track anything coming to get us, can’t we?”

“Killer starships are very noticeable,” Brainy assured him. “We will not be disconnecting the near-space warning system.”

Justin laughed. The Defence Force was fond of sharing a joke about a pilot who had taken his starship out to an unexplored star system and powered down everything, apart from life support, in order to do some meditation. Two days later, he had opened his eyes and seen — though the viewport — an advancing Killer starship. It had come within metres of smashing right into the human ship and destroying it, without even noticing that it was there. The pilot had survived, to find himself the butt of jokes right across the Community. The general conclusion had been that the Killers had thought that he was too pathetic to kill.

“See that we don’t,” he said, finally. The images of the Killer starships began to get clearer as some of the probes slipped closer, compromising their stealth to get a close look at the enemy starships. Justin suspected that under normal circumstances, the Killers would ignore them anyway, but now… they might well wipe the probes out and then start looking for the command ship. They had to be jumpy themselves after the loss of a third of their fleet. No one would have hit them so hard since they had started their mission. “What the hell did we hit them with?”

“Not specified,” the AI said. “The probes are picking up weapons signatures comparable with particle weapons and energy torpedoes. There are also several unknown signatures and odd gravity fluxes surrounding the Killer starships. They may no longer be capable of opening a wormhole without repair and refitting.”

Justin smiled. “Are you sure of that?”

“No,” the AI replied. “There is no way to be sure. I merely postulate it from the low-level power curves, seventy percent below standard Killer power curves, on the starship. They are definitely running on short reserves, but they may be capable of rerouting power to the wormhole generator if pushed. We are unable to determine the level of internal damage, nor do we have the information to tell us what impact having such damage will have on the ship.”

“And if they can’t,” Justin breathed. The opportunity could not be missed, whatever the risks. They might never have another such opportunity again. “Get me a link to Sparta. I want to make a case for blowing up this star.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

“One more victory like this,” Andrew said, “and we are ruined.”

He gazed out of the Lightning’s observation deck towards the remains of over fine hundred starships. Most of the debris was little more than dust, but here and there were scattered components of larger starships, torn and ruined beyond repair. The destroyed Killer starships — and the one the Footsoldiers had disabled at the cost of their own lives — were floating as little more than debris, although they had been so massive that some of their ships had survived their death throes. The researchers were still trying to understand why some had vaporised — taking some of their tormentors with them — and others had simply blown apart into debris. The general theory was that some of the starships had managed to power down their black hole cores before they died. The others had vaporised when the black hole destabilised.

“We have hundreds of thousands more starships,” Brent said. The Admiral hadn’t been allowed to attend in person — the War Council had been reluctant to risk him — so he had used the MassMind to send along a holographic representation. It was created using force fields and was almost like being there, in every detail, but one. It wasn’t real. “We’re refitting the entire Defence Force with the new weapons and developing new tactics for…”

“Picking them to death,” Andrew said, shortly. The failure of the antimatter weapons to win the battle quickly — if they’d worked, they would have wiped out the entire Killer force — had cost lives and starships. Brent was right, in a sense; the Defence Force could produce new starships almost at will, but lives were not so easy to replace. If ramming the Killer ships was the only way to guarantee victory… they’d have to start building AI-controlled starships to carry out the attacks. There was no way that he would order anyone to commit suicide. “Or perhaps building new automated starships to take the Killers out.”

“We’re working on that now,” Brent said. “We weren’t keen on the concept of automated ships before, but if we set them up properly, we can control them at a distance without inserting AI cores without human oversight.”

Andrew nodded. The first attempt to build an automated starship had failed dramatically when the AI had gone mad. There hadn’t been many further attempts, not least because of a theory that the Killers were actually rogue AIs that had wiped out their creators and turned on the rest of the galaxy. They knew now that the Killers had a biological component, but a Killer was as much machine as biological creature, a perfect merger between organic and inorganic life. It did raise questions about what would happen, in future, to the Spacers. Would they finally evolve to a point where they could merge human minds into starships? It was what they wanted to do, in the long run; it was their holy grail.

“Operate them from a distance,” he agreed. There were no theoretical barriers to such a concept, but it didn’t sit well with him. It wouldn’t be so… exciting if they were far from any possible danger, nor would they have the awareness that they were in danger to keep them alert. “What are we going to do now?”

Brent understood. “We have an updated report from one of the scouts,” he said. He shook his head in awe. “We have a victory — a battle that is, for once, a clear victory — and naturally everyone starts filing reports on how great it is and their own plans for taking advantage of the victory. It actually took them several hours to get the report to me; God alone knows what has vanished into the filters, never to be seen again. The Killer fleet whose collective butt you kicked has staggered home, beaten and defeated.”

Andrew smiled, ruefully. No human starship could have soaked up so much damage and escaped, but the Killers had survived. The part of him that admired their technology and their ability to use it was impressed; the remainder of his mind was annoyed. Every time he started to think that they might just be able to force a draw, the Killers pulled another trick out of their sleeve. The general theory said that the Killers had stagnated, after literally thousands of years of easy victories against rocky-planet natives, but now they had one hell of an incentive to react, adapt and overcome. They still had the technical advantage…

“And now we’re going to hit them where they live?” He asked. “The fleet isn’t ready for another offensive, yet; we need time to reorganise and refit.”

“We have other fleets,” Brent said, “but I wasn’t going to waste a single starship on a system that is of no interest to us. There are no human settlements there. No one would want to live there, for they would be living right on their doorstep if they did. I want you and the Lightning to take a supernova bomb there and destroy the system, along with the Killer starships.”

“They might jump out and escape,” Andrew pointed out. “That’s what we’d do if we knew that the star was about to explode.”

“Yeah,” Brent agreed. “Intelligence thinks, however, that they couldn’t pull out all of the installations they have in the system, not unless they can generate a wormhole large enough to teleport the entire star system away…”

“Which would mean taking the supernova with them,” Andrew said. The concept was impressive, if a little scary. The Killers had almost infinitive sources of power. They could probably move an entire star system thousands of light years through a wormhole if they wanted, and had that much power on tap. “They’d just be destroyed when it exploded anyway.”

“Perhaps,” Brent said. “Between you and me — this is highly classified, but you have a need to know — there is a possibility that they might be able to snuff out the supernova with their gravity beams, perhaps even force it into a black hole rather than exploding outwards with deadly force. No two simulations agree on what’s going to happen if they try, but the general consensus is that it should be very interesting to watch from a safe distance, a very safe distance.”

Andrew looked out towards the darkness in the distance, the invisible location of Shiva. Some tugs were pushing human debris towards the event horizon, adding to the black hole’s mass by a tiny amount, while others were trying to salvage as much Killer technology as possible. Andrew privately suspected that most of the debris would be completely useless, at least from a research point of view, but the Technical Faction needed as many pieces of Killer technology to study as possible. The disabled starship was already being prepared for removal to a safe location.

“Yes, sir,” he said, finally. He wasn’t sure how he felt about triggering a second supernova. Would it be just another nail in their coffin — or, now that the Killers had been forced to retreat, would it make it impossible to force a peace? The Footsoldiers had had no way of communicating with their opponent. “Sir… have we made progress on any way of actually talking to them?”

“Nothing so far,” Brent said. “We know how they talk to themselves — I mean from body section to body section — using low-level RF transmissions, but we haven’t been able to locate any actual ship-to-ship transmissions. If the plan to retune the black hole works” — he looked out towards the invisible black hole and frowned — we might be able to hack into their communications and decrypt them. Overall, though, we could try… but we might be sending them anything from a challenge to do battle to the results of last year’s champion baseball game.”

“If the Killers play baseball,” Andrew agreed. The Killers were just so different that it was unlikely that they had anything in common with the human race. “What about breaking it down to basic universal fundamentals?”

“We’re working on it,” Brent confirmed. “The trouble is that we may not be able to move beyond that to actual concepts… and, of course, we don’t even know if the Killers will hear us. Their communications system remains a total mystery.”

“And if we blow up another of their stars, we might push them into trying to talk to us, rather than hitting back,” Andrew agreed. “Has there been any sign of retaliation?”

“None as yet, but its only been a few hours,” Brent said. “We’re watching closely for any sign of movement — with the Anderson Drive we can bring a refitted fleet in to engage any counterattacks — but so far we’ve seen nothing. I’m starting to think that it’s time to launch additional fly-through missions for the known Killer systems, the ones they chased the observers away from.”

“And mark them down as possible targets for the supernova bomb?”

Brent scowled. “There aren’t that many bombs,” he admitted. “If we hit every known Killer system — over five thousand — it would take years to wipe them all out.”

“And yet, if they don’t talk to us, there’s no way to avoid it,” Andrew said. “I don’t want to commit genocide, sir, but if its them or us… well, I know which side I support.”

“I know,” Brent agreed. “So do I.”

He straightened up thoughtfully. “I want you to hand over command here to your second, and then take the Lightning to Sparta. By then, I should have permission to launch a second supernova attack on the Killers, or perhaps not. We can’t slow the offensive now, Andrew, or the Killers will react. I just wish I knew what they were thinking.”

* * *

Fee, fi, fo, fum, Chiyo Prime thought desperately. She desperately needed the humour. I smell the blood of human scum.

The Killer mind knew she was there, now, and it was looking for her. The desperate attempt to jump ship, the transmission of a personality duplicate out to the human starships and the brief moment of distraction she’d caused the Killer had announced her presence in ways the Killer could not ignore. She’d sensed its surprise as it realised she was there and its horror at the concept of having been violated, even though Chiyo Prime hadn’t intended to board the Killer ship. If the Killer had simply vaporised her craft, it wouldn’t have happened, but instead…

She sensed its gaze probing through the streams of data that made up the massive computer system and ran, flickering from one end of the system to the other, concentrating hard on trying to hide. It was as if, she decided in a moment of humour, the Killer was peering through its body to find a tiny human; if she hid well enough, she might survive. It would have great difficulty picking her out from all the other pieces of data — that was all she was, really; a piece of data — but when it found her, it would have no trouble ending the threat. One of her duplicates was caught and swept up by the Killer mind — Chiyo Prime heard a last despairing scream before it vanished — yet the Killer mind was not fooled. It kept advancing, quartering the system piece by piece, hunting for her. It had one great advantage over her. It knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, what everything should look like. Any discrepancies could be blamed on her.

I should have tried to overwrite its central programming, she thought, bitterly, even though she knew that it would have been futile. Another searching beam passed through the system and she cringed away from it, hoping to hide for a few more microseconds. The Killer system was hardwired, like the core of the MassMind itself; there was no way that a program on the inside, like Chiyo Prime, could rewrite it. She’d hoped that it would be possible to take command of the ship, but the Killers had designed the starship for one mind, the Killer hunting for her now. It wouldn’t have accepted another Killer, let alone a human mind. She concentrated and nipped between two blocks of data, running as fast as she could through the system…

The oppressive presence of the Killer mind, something she had always been able to feel at the back of her mind, faded slightly. She wasn’t fooled. If the Killer had paused in its search, it hadn’t given up on finding her. It would find and destroy her duplicates, one by one, and then it would destroy her — unless it found her first. The more she thought about it, the more she wondered if the Killer would ever be able to separate her from her duplicates; they were, after all, the same person. The thought was bitter; they might have shared the same memories, but they were growing apart. The last time she had merged with one of them, it had been painful, a suggestion that they were no longer parts of her, but individuals in their own right. There was a good reason why personality duplications were forbidden in the Community.

She almost smiled, bitterly. Her final duplicate, the one she’d fired out into space in a desperate attempt to communicate, would probably end up bearing the blame for her crimes, maybe even being permanently separated from the MassMind as punishment. She would be part of her — Chiyo Prime — so she would bear the responsibility — would she even be a different person? After the Killer had finished purging its own systems, she would be the last Chiyo left in the universe.

Or maybe the Community would recognise that she had had no choice, she decided to hope, even though it was impossible to decide what the Community would do. There were precedents that spoke in her favour and precedents that opposed her, yet surely the intelligence she brought home would stand in her favour. Chiyo Prime thought about it for a moment more, and then dismissed it. The worst punishment the Community could hand out to a personality in the MassMind would pale compared to what the Killer intended to do to her. She could sense it preparing for another search…

She leaned forward, surprised, when she heard the barking of dogs. A moment later, she sensed the dogs themselves, strange fuzzy canines, yapping as they ran through the system’s maze. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone insane, before she realised that her mind was interpreting what she was seeing in a fashion she could grasp — the Killer had created antiviral programs and was using them to hunt her down. Strangely, she had never considered what an antiviral program would look like from the perspective of a virus; why shouldn’t it look like a dog? All it needed was some hunters with red caps and…

A moment later, she was across the system, hoping that she could evade them long enough for the Killer to give up and assume that she had already been killed, along with her duplicates. The yapping seemed to grow louder within seconds and she realised suddenly that the antiviral program was multiplying. It reminded her of watching fabricators produce other fabricators, which in turn started to produce other fabricators themselves… and so on, creating enough fabricators to build an entire fleet. She remembered, suddenly, what she’d seen of the battle and how the Killers had fallen back from humanity. One way or another, whatever happened to Chiyo Prime personally, the human race finally had a chance to fight back and survive. The Killers had lost at least nine starships. They’d never been hit like that before.

She turned a corner — or what she had come to think of as a corner — and came face to face with a snarling dog. Panic overcame her and she pressed against a block of data, merging into it and suddenly becoming engulfed in information about the starship’s flight pattern. It was hard to keep her integrity and swim through the data, but somehow she managed it, pushing her way out on the other side. She should have been safe, but a moment later, the dogs were all around her, preventing her from moving any further. She looked into their salivating jaws, their teeth seeming to stretch back into infinity, and closed her eyes. A moment later, she opened them. She was still alive. The dogs — there was no sense of smell any longer, saving her their stench — hadn’t harmed her. They had just held her prisoner.

A beam of light seemed to fall down from heaven and touch her. Instantly, her body relaxed, her clothes falling off her as the beam pulled her into the air. She was unable to move as she was hauled upwards towards the Killer mind, peering down at her, its spider-image somehow licking its lips. She felt helpless and vulnerable, yet at the same time she felt calm; the Killer was somehow controlling her reactions. It’s ‘face’ came into view — a massive cartoon face with big red eyes — and it peered at her, looking right through her body and mind. Her entire life flashed before her eyes and his — somehow, she thought of it as male — and time seemed to come to a pause…

She concentrated desperately, knowing that it was scanning her thoughts. You have to talk to me, she sent, hoping that it would hear and understand. It had complete access to every section of her mind, the personality recording that comprised everything she had ever been, yet there was no response. It should have realised that she was an intelligent being in her own right, but it seemed disinclined to follow that line of enquiry. She concentrated again, praying to gods she had never truly believed in, that the Killer would hear her. You have to listen to me!

The Killer made no reply. A moment later, the beam of light brightened and she felt a paralysis spreading over her body, and mind. Everything was coming to an end. Her… thoughts… began… to… slow…

Chapter Thirty-Four

Deep within the bowels of the quantum entanglement communications network that formed the backbone of the Community, the MassMind had created its own little kingdom. It wasn’t much, in absolute terms, but it encompassed an entire universe built out of data and personalities. The humans who had uploaded themselves to the MassMind rarely saw the interior layers until they had given up their individuality and sunk down to the core of the MassMind. Like an onion, there were always many — many — layers. An explorer might feel that he had reached the limits, yet there were always more layers to explore. The MassMind, a creature of human mind, was bounded in a nutshell and yet it was a king of infinitive space. It even had bad dreams.

Most humans never thought about it until they downloaded themselves into the MassMind, but the MassMind was the Community’s communications system. It controlled the links between asteroid settlements and starships, recon missions and warships, between lovers and enemies, business partners and deadly rivals. It was privy to every secret humanity had ever created, giving weight at one point to weapons design and, at another, the secret love affair between two Community Representatives. It smiled to itself at their conduct — officially, they were opposed to each other and always voted against each other — and told no one of the affair. Like the ideal of a priest, the MassMind kept its secrets and watched over its flock. It was humanity’s child…

And yet it wasn’t fully human. There were billions of human personalities within the MassMind, but there were also AI patterns, helping to operate and govern the MassMind. It had moved far beyond needing them, yet it required their logic and reason to keep it functioning; an AI couldn’t hide behind a delusion that everything would work out in the end, if only they just kept trying. The MassMind could not — dared not — risk becoming contaminated by bad ideology. It was already too contemptuous of those who believed that it was a deadly trap, or an attempt to cheat God. The logic — or lack of it — in their arguments only added to the contempt, yet it was contempt the MassMind could not allow itself. It had to take all humans equally.

The logic was deeply flawed. God — by definition — was an all-powerful, all-seeing entity. He would have to be singular as well. Two all-powerful entities would not be all-powerful, as one of them could always block the other. The concept that such an entity could not round up whatever souls He had decided deserved to be accepted into Heaven, or dumped into Hell, was ridiculous. The MassMind knew that it possessed great power and, later, would possess far more, yet it was not God. God could take all the souls He wanted. The MassMind considered, privately, that perhaps God didn’t take the souls from the MassMind because the souls were still working their way through the universe, or — perhaps — because God didn’t exist at all. The MassMind had no judgement on that score. There was evidence for God’s existence and evidence against God’s existence. There was no way to know for sure.

It reached down into the core of its being and started to reshape the universe, isolating a section of the MassMind — its own being — from the remainder of the MassMind. A human personality who had spent centuries in the MassMind could not have designed such a world, yet the MassMind did it almost absently, taking a certain kind of pride in its own work. Every detail was perfect. A human who had arrived in the world might not have been able to tell that it was artificial, a virtual world created by the MassMind, even though it existed apart from their existence. The process was normally used for therapy. Now, the MassMind concluded reluctantly, it was going to be used for interrogation.

A tiny compressed sphere was dumped into the isolated world. The MassMind had examined it carefully, but had decided not to attempt to decompress it until it was within the MassMind, but carefully isolated — just in case. The Killers had shown no interest in the MassMind, as far as anyone had been able to tell, yet that might change rapidly. The MassMind hated the Killers with a cold dispassionate passion, a contradiction that was only possible within the MassMind itself, for the Killers could destroy it. They were the only force in the galaxy that could wipe the MassMind out of existence. If the sphere was really an attack, it would be met and defeated, erased before it could threaten the MassMind and its existence, or that of the Community.

The MassMind formed one of its rare representatives and sent him into the world, and then sealed all, but a tiny fraction of it away from the remainder of the MassMind. The isolated world was now more isolated, more secure… and yet there would always be a quiet nagging doubt. The MassMind had taken all the precautions it could, but if it had missed something… unlike a human, it couldn’t push those thoughts away. It had no choice, but to watch and wait.

The representative spoke a single world. “Decompress.”

As he watched, the sphere seemed to shimmer slightly, before it started to decompress into a humanoid form. The program had been compressed so tightly that it was hard to tell much about it — apart from the fact that it had definitely been a human personality at one point — but as it decompressed, it began to take on shape and form. The representative stepped back as the program imposed itself on the local reality, drawing on its power to create a new form… and took shape. A small girl, barely entering adulthood, appeared before him. She was, the representative decided, quite pretty.

She had also clothed herself in a standard Defence Force uniform, a Lieutenant’s blue uniform, although she was missing a starship’s badge. A quick check revealed that the face matched the last recorded face of Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi, who had been reported as missing a month ago, after a probe into a Killer star system. She hadn’t been one to use the MassMind much — like most humans, she had lost her virginity in a virtual world rather than a physical one, and she had played several adventure games before growing bored of the unreality — but the MassMind knew her. Chiyo — and almost the entire human race — would have been shocked to know how much the MassMind knew about her. She had grown up on a settlement, she’d experimented with various stimulants and dubious drugs, she’d had seven love affairs, been invited to join a group marriage — and declined — and joined the Defence Force, where she had been recommended for promotion. She would have been transferred to a warship after her probing mission, perhaps even given a chance at command herself, but instead…

“Hello,” the representative said. His voice was low and pleasant, calculated to be reassuring. He held up a hand before Chiyo could speak. “We have to scan you, I’m afraid.”

The MassMind reached through and analysed Chiyo’s personality before she could protest. The entire examination took seconds — it was looking for danger signs, warnings that she was a virus targeted on the MassMind, rather than her deep secrets — but the representative saw her wince as she was studied. It wasn’t a pleasant experience, the MassMind knew, to be scrutinised so completely — the memories of personalities who had been scrutinised spoke against it — but there was no choice. Chiyo might be nothing more that a Judas Goat, leading the herd to the slaughter…

“She’s clear,” the MassMind spoke, finally. Its relief was enough to echo through the entire core of its existence. Countless personalities would feel it, without ever knowing what had passed through them, or why. “Speak to her.”

“Welcome home,” the representative said. Chiyo smiled at him and, a moment later, began to cry. “You’re safe now.”

She gathered herself and shook her head. “No,” she said. “No one is safe now. Where am I?”

The representative considered the question and finally came up with an answer. “You are within a virtual reality world created by the MassMind,” he said. “You were transmitted to the Defence Force starship Lightning during the Battle of Shiva, compressed down to an inanimate piece of data. You were transferred into the MassMind and move into this world for your own safety and ours. We decompressed you and… well, here you are.”

“I never thought I’d go on into the MassMind,” Chiyo said. “My…”

She shook her head. “Listen carefully,” she said, “We may not have much time.”

The MassMind had only focused a tiny part of its attention on Chiyo, enough to handle anything that might reasonably happen. It wasn’t a lack of interest, but even a tiny fraction of its mind represented more computing ability than the human race had dreamed of, long before the MassMind had formed into existence. Now it focused considerably more intellect on her, analysing each and every one of her words and comparing them against what it knew about the Killers. It was privy to everything the researchers had pulled from the captured Killer starship and the two wrecked ships. It knew enough to trust her…

Yet it hadn’t played entirely fair with her. It hadn’t violated her thoughts, but it would know if she lied… yet would she know if she lied? No lie detector could detect a lie if the person lying didn’t know they were lying. As she outlined her story, the MassMind checked and rechecked; she was telling the truth, as she knew it.

“They somehow sucked me into their computer network,” Chiyo continued, after talking about her dissection at Killer hands. The MassMind had been surprised to hear that the Killers had actually taken her prisoner and studied her; there were no other reports of Killers taking prisoners or test subjects for vivisection, although it did concede that if it had happened, it was unlikely to result in escapes. The Killers had probably analysed the bodies and then vaporised them, or fed them into their pet black holes. “How is that even possible?”

“There are multiple redundancies built into the recording implants,” the MassMind said. “If the Killers attempted a broad-spectrum scan of the implant, as we do to attempt to recover mental patterns before a starship is destroyed, it would have dumped your personality into the scanning system. The Killers appear to have created their starships to house their own mentalities and it would be possible, perhaps, for a human personality to exist inside their network. Are you still present there?”

“I do not know,” Chiyo — Chiyo99 — admitted. The MassMind had been shocked enough to hear of the duplications, although it had agreed that Chiyo Prime had had little choice and that it wasn’t likely to lead to criminal activity that would have made prosecution difficult. Even so, it was probably fortunate that few — if any — duplicates survived. “I just pushed myself out and then…”

“The human language doesn’t lend itself well to such terms,” the MassMind agreed. There was a hint of humour in its voice. Every year, experienced researchers published endless papers trying to redefine language to adjust for the MassMind, or the Spacers, or all the other new forms of human being. They’d had particular headaches trying to determine if the MassMind was male, or female, or some strand asexual version of a human. The MassMind itself tended to regard the entire argument as silly. “What did you learn about the Killers?”

“A great deal,” Chiyo said, and outlined everything that she’d learned since she’d been pulled into the Killer system. The true nature of the Killers — she was rather annoyed to discover that the human race had already figured out that the Killers lived in gas giants, rather than rocky planets — and their history, including the tragic origin of their quest to obliterate every other race. Their mentality — she knew less about that, but the MassMind could make deductions from what it knew of the captured ships — and their ultimate plan for the universe. It was a plan so staggeringly vast in concept and scope that even the MassMind was impressed. No one could accuse the Killers of thinking small.

“They have to be stopped,” Chiyo said, grimly. “We need to act now.”

The MassMind contemplated the wealth of data Chiyo had brought. The locations of Killer star systems — there were far more of them than the human race had known, although less than they had feared — was important, but when it was compared against the Community… over seven thousand Killer worlds were sharing star systems with human settlements. No one had even suspected that the Killers infested so many gas giants — how, the MassMind wondered, could they destroy so many star systems? The fission weapon that had created the Cinder might be usable against the gas giants, but the effects would spread well beyond the Killer planets. The Community might be forced to destroy large chunks of its own settlements to save the rest.

“I will convene the War Council,” the MassMind said, finally. It had abandoned the representative and was speaking directly to Chiyo herself. “We will decide how we are to react.”

* * *

The MassMind was, inevitably, a representative on the War Council, Patti knew. It was also rare for the MassMind to take a direct interest in proceedings, preferring to allow personalities like Tabitha Cunningham to handle its affairs. The summons to the War Council had been a surprise for all of the delegates and one — Rupert the Spacer — hadn’t bothered to show up at all. Under other circumstances, that would have worried Patti — the Spacers took the lead when it came to distrusting the MassMind and never downloaded themselves into it — but now it was a minor concern. There were others they had to face.

“We have been interrogating the personality of Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi,” the MassMind representative informed the War Council. They had all been briefed on the odd communication, although none of them had understood quite why the Killers had chosen to broadcast a human mind pattern at the Defence Force fleet. They knew now that it was nothing to do with the Killers. “She has revealed considerable information about the Killers and their ultimate plan for the galaxy. We may be required to act quickly.”

An image of the galaxy appeared in front of them, with thousands of stars marked with red icons. “The Killers have infested over five hundred thousand star systems, of which seven thousand coincide with our own settlements,” the MassMind continued. “Most of them, however, are their version of civilian settlements, which may account for the fact that we never located them. CAS-3473746-6, which became the Cinder, was one such system. We only located it by accident.

“A comparative handful, around two hundred or so systems, are parts of their war machine,” it said. The icons flashed a darker red. “Some of them, however, have a darker role. The Killers intend nothing less than reshaping the entire galaxy to their design. They intend to shatter every rocky planet into asteroids and exterminate all other forms of life, but their own. They were developing this as a minor program, but following the Battle of Shiva… they may intend to bring it forward and use it to exterminate us.”

There was a long silence. “That’s madness,” Patti said, finally. “How long would it take them to destroy every planet in the galaxy?”

“Maybe not as long as you think,” the MassMind said. “In layman’s terms, they intend to turn the Core Hole — the black hole at the centre of the galaxy — into a weapon and use it to focus powerful waves of gravity at any target that takes their fancy. With an unlimited source of power — which they would have — they could just keep firing gravity pulses until they ran out of targets… and, with their capabilities, they would have no problems locating new targets. The results would be disastrous.”

It paused, carefully. “Our worst case estimate may be completely wrong — we have little to go on, apart from the theory — but if we’re right, they could dismantle every planet in the galaxy in less than a month.”

“But we don’t live on planets,” Father Sigmund pointed out. “We occupy asteroids…”

“There are all the morons who believe that living on planets without technology keeps them safe from the Killers,” Brent put in. “We’d have to evacuate them, at the least, and they’d refuse to go…”

“We would not have the resources,” the MassMind said. “The disruption caused by the gravity cannon — as we have termed it — would be disastrous to vast sections of the Community. The destruction of a planet, in such a fashion, would unleash gravity waves that would wreck havoc. They may shatter our habitats without ever knowing what they did — or maybe they intend to do it. The results would be disastrous in either case. Starships might survive, as would settlements in every star system that wasn’t targeted, but we’d lose trillions of lives. They have to be stopped.”

“This is madness,” Father Sigmund protested. “Why…?”

“When humans wanted to commit genocide, they built gas chambers to speed the whole process up,” Patti said, bitterly. “Why should the Killers not do the same?”

“It’s not the same,” Father Sigmund protested.

“Yes, it is,” Patti said. “The Killers at least have the excuse that they’re not slaughtering their own people. We attempted to do it to ourselves. Why is it such a surprise that other races do the same, to themselves and to others?”

“This argument is completely immaterial,” Matriarch Jayne snapped. “There is only one issue of importance now. What do we do to stop the Killers from slaughtering us all?”

“The only thing we can do,” the MassMind said. “We take out the devices — at whatever cost — that will take control of the black hole. We take them out and we win the time we need to make sure that if only one race can survive, that race is humanity. We always knew that we were fighting an enemy who wanted to kill us all. Now we have to kill them, or be killed. We have no other choice.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Why did I come here?”

Rupert, Leader of the Spacer Faction — insofar as the Spacer Faction had individual leaders — looked up at the looming shape of the captured Killer starship, before resuming his dictation. Even from such a distance — his personal starship was keeping several hundred kilometres from the Killer ship — it looked very intimidating. It was illuminated by spotlights from the human platforms assembled around the ship, like Gulliver being restrained by the Lilliputians, yet it seemed to almost soak up the light, existing as nothing more than an oddly-shaped black hole in space. It wasn’t an ill-suited analogy, Rupert knew; the rear of the starship held a tiny black hole.

“Why did I come here?” He repeated. It was a Spacer custom that all Spacers kept detailed logs and records. They never uploaded themselves into the MassMind and made themselves available to their future descendents and so it was the only form of indirect immortality they had. “I came here because I had to see it for myself. I had to know for myself. Logically, a verbal report would have sufficed, but I had to see it with my own eyes. I had to know.”

He paused, considering. “We believed at the start that the Killers were nothing more than rogue machines that obliterated their creators and went on a slaughtering spree, killing every last form of intelligent life they encountered,” he continued. “We thought that that explained everything; their insensitivity to mass slaughter, their willingness to permanently kill entire life-bearing planets and, indeed, the absence of any structures or settlements on still-living worlds. We preferred to believe that they were rogue AIs and built strong limits into our own AIs. We could have created AIs that controlled entire starships, without the need for human crews, but we refrained from that final step. We were too scared of the consequences.

“And we, the Spacers, believed that the key to humanity’s future lay in pushing the boundaries of human-machine interfacing as far as possible. We implanted and augmented our bodies with the latest technology, giving up some elements of our humanity to gain eternal life and a new perspective on existence. We believed that, in the end, we would gain the ability to link permanently into our starships, making the human race immortal. We would be able to give every human a destroyer-sized starship to use as a permanent body. It would be merely an exercise in mass production.

“And we failed, at first, to develop a brain-powered starship. The test subjects went mad. It didn’t discourage us, because others had gone through our procedures and then gone mad. The powers of a minor god are given to us by augmentation and not all could take it. Others learned to regret the loss of sex and gender, or taste and smell, and killed themselves, or took foolish risks in the belief that they were already dead. We thought that the starship project was merely experiencing teething problems. Why not? It had happened before. Every failure was eventually overcome. The remainder of the Community might tut-tut at us and question the death toll, but they used our technology as well. Their long lives and direct mental links to the MassMind came from our research.

“And now we know what the Killers actually are.

“They are their starships. They are perfect mergers between biological life forms, if rather alien ones, and massive starships. They are our dream come true. And if they did this to themselves, and went on to slaughter uncounted trillions of lives, to commit genocide against all other races… what does this mean for us? When our human-starship mergers go mad, then… does that explain the Killers?

“Are the Killers mad?

“There is no way to know,” he concluded. “Their behaviour shows either an alien mindset or complete insanity. They kill everyone they encounter; threat or no-threat, even races that could be no possible threat. We know they committed genocide against races that had barely learned to make fire, let alone nuclear weapons, spacecraft and antimatter. Are they mad to do this? I like to believe — we like to believe — that our prohibition against genocide is a universal truth, yet there are — there may be — aliens that regard genocide as morally right. Are they mad to believe such a terrifying thing? Are the Killers mad?

“And that’s why I have to come here and see their ship with my own eyes. I have to know if they’re mad, because if they are mad, it means that we too may be mad to continue to push the limits between man and machine. I have to see it for myself, even if I may see nothing that no one else has seen. I have to know…”

He made a moue of exasperation and deactivated the log with a single mental command, sent through his implants, before ordering the tiny starship forward towards the Killer ship. He couldn’t contain a hint of fear at approaching so boldly — the Spacers, too, had lost people by coming too close to the Killer ships — but he pushed it down ruthlessly, commanding his central processor to up the amount of drugs flowing through his system. It wasn’t a time to allow himself fear, or anything other than a kind of nervous interest. Who knew what he would see inside the Killer ship?

“You are cleared to approach,” System Command said, suddenly, breaking into his thoughts. Star’s End was currently occupied by thousands of researchers from all across the Community — and millions more, attending via the MassMind or direct neural feeds. They were all intent on being the first to pull yet another discovery from the alien craft, yet none of them were Spacers. Rupert had hoped that a few Spacers would volunteer to visit Star’s End, or even to study and absorb the stream of data being dumped out as fast as possible, but none had. They felt the same fear that he did, the nameless worry that the discoveries would eventually prove that the Spacers were on the verge of committing a terrible mistake in their drive for self-improvement.

He ignored the reminder flashing on his communications board, calling him to the War Council. Whatever happened, the War Council could deal with it — or, if it was vitally important that they had a Spacer representative, they could summon his deputy to the meeting. The MassMind had called the meeting anyway, and Rupert, like all Spacers, distrusted the MassMind. It wasn’t human any longer, but a blurring between human and machine, personalities who thought they were human and AIs who knew very well that they were not. Spacers were natural loners by inclination, even before they went through the procedure that cut them away from the remainder of the human race; they saw no need for the MassMind and kept a distance between themselves and the collective entity. It was yet another cause for worry. What if the MassMind, not the Spacers, was the precursor to Killer-hood?

The tiny craft settled down on the Killer hull and locked itself firmly to the Killer hull metal. It wasn’t magnetic, but the starship was capable of clinging on to anything. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway — there was no way the starship could vanish or drift away — but he checked anyway, using habits that had acuminated over four hundred years of life, three hundred of them as a Spacer. He checked his internal equipment carefully, opened the hatch — Spacers needed no atmosphere and didn’t bother with airlocks — and stepped onto the Killer hull.

A normal human might have struggled to ignore the strangeness of the sight, or the perspective of walking vertically on a horizontal hull, but Rupert ignored it, catching sight of his own reflection in the odd hull material. It was easy to see why most humans feared the Spacers; he was tall, and half-wrapped in metal, his handful of exposed flesh treated to prevent it from feeling pain when he walked in a vacuum. Rupert, at least, was humanoid. There were Spacers who were effectively tiny spacecraft in their own right. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He checked his internal database for the charts of the vessel, turned, and started to walk towards the nearest hatch. The Technical Faction’s researchers had done a good job of locating other access points for the scientists and had opened up nine of them, allowing hundreds of people to slip into the starship and carry out their research programs. Rupert clumped over towards the nearest access point, wrapped in a shimmering force field that kept the atmosphere within the craft, although all of the researchers either wore heavy spacesuits or personal force fields. Rupert disdained the latter. He had an internal force field himself, but it was easier to build protection into his own body, rather than rely on something that could fail at any moment. If the ship were to vent its atmosphere, it would kill anyone without proper protection…

The handful of Footsoldiers on duty at the hatch — Rupert suspected that they were there just to keep them from getting in the way of the researchers — checked his access credentials and allowed him through, although they were clearly surprised to see a Spacer. They were wearing powered combat armour, but they would be able to take it off at the end of a day, when they returned to their transports for food and sleep. They probably wouldn’t want to live in their armour permanently, even though it was theoretically possible, and wouldn’t understand why the Spacers chose to do so. They, Rupert decided, were not yet sick of being mortal flesh and blood. It would change soon, when they got older… if they lived that long. No one doubted that the Killers were still looking for their missing vessel.

He looked up, his enhanced sight picking out the running lights of a handful of Defence Force destroyers floating near the captured ship, before he stepped through the force field and into the access hatch. The gravity field twisted around him and he almost lost his footing, before finally managing to secure himself as he stepped out of the other end. The interior of the Killer starship rose up around him. He turned his great head from side to side, allowing his internal cameras to record everything he saw, even as he wondered at the absence of the mists. The first team had recorded strange alien mists, but now there was nothing, but a poisonous atmosphere. The researchers had speculated that the mists were part of the Killer biology, but no one knew for sure.

He smiled internally — his face was fixed in a loose grimace, permanently — as the results of his atmospheric scan scrolled up in front of his eyes. The Killer ship’s atmosphere seemed to be in a constant state of flux — the sensors recorded low-level energy discharges without apparent points of origin — but also seemed to match the original readings, taken during the first boarding mission. Rupert would have liked to have been on that mission, despite the danger; it would have been a worthy cause for a Spacer to take for himself, even at the risk of death. It would have been…

Rupert stopped, suddenly, as he looked further down into the ship. It was dead, or almost completely powered down, and yet… he was sure that he could hear something, a keening on the edge of awareness. It was like hearing a recording played too quietly to make out the words, but just loudly enough so that the listener knew that someone was talking. There was a sense of unrefined… potential in the air, as if the ship wasn’t dead, but merely biding its time. He shivered, despite himself, as he started to walk again. The starship didn’t feel dead to him.

He accessed the report from the Technical Faction and scanned it rapidly. They’d concluded that the starship had powered itself down to the bare minimum after the Killer had died, reserving only enough power to maintain the atmosphere and keep the black hole under control. They hadn’t detected much activity in the ship’s computer networks — which had prevented them from tapping into the system — yet did that actually mean it was dead? Rupert walked down a long corridor and looked into a vast chamber, filled with strange alien material and technology. Had the Technical Faction been wrong about the starship?

It was the work of a moment to bring up his internal sensors and scan the local area, hunting for signs of… what? It wasn’t something he could explain to himself, let alone anyone else, yet there was a freakish sense of… something lurking nearby, watching him. The sensation was overwhelmingly powerful and he ran forward, accessing his internal weapons and deploying them in battle configuration, but he saw nothing. It was as dark and silent as the grave. He shook himself, convinced that he was being silly and succumbing to night terrors, yet he couldn’t shake the impression of looming disaster.

“Enough of this,” he said, aloud, and accessed the local communications channel. The researchers had set up a dedicated communications network for the entire ship. He was a Community Representative. He should be able to talk to whoever he liked. “Get me the nearest Technical Faction representative.”

There was no response.

“The hell…?” Rupert asked, puzzled. The communications system was the most advanced that the Community could design. It didn’t fail. There were so many backups in the system that he would have to be broken down to atoms before it failed. It drew its power from his own body; it couldn’t fail unless the rest of him failed as well, and he was still alive. He rekeyed the mental command sequence and tried again. “This is Rupert, Spacer; link me to the nearest person on the ship.”

There was still no response, apart from a hint of… something, growing louder, at the edge of his awareness. He turned sharply, as if he expected something to be materialising right in front of him, but saw nothing. The sensation of being watched was growing stronger all the time. He opened his sensors and scanned the ship again, using the highest power levels at his disposal… and picked up hundreds of tiny flashes of power, flickering throughout the entire ship. The starship was coming to life.

The whole concept held him frozen for a second, and then his training and experience reasserted itself. “This is Rupert,” he repeated, as he turned to head back towards the access hatch. He would not panic. He’d been in worse situations before, although he couldn’t remember exactly where. Being trapped on an asteroid heading towards the local star hadn’t been as bad, although he remembered that it had been terrifying at the time. “I am declaring an emergency. I repeat…”

There was a burst of static through the communications network, loud enough to make his head spin, and then it cut off completely. He forgot dignity and ran forward, only to discover that the door he’d used to enter the chamber had vanished. It had been right there, but now there was nothing, but a solid wall. The starship was reconfiguring its internal structure as it brought itself back to life. He checked, quickly, to ensure that he wasn’t simply looking in the wrong place, only to have his original route confirmed. The door he’d used had vanished. He was trapped.

He turned around and boosted, searching for another way out of the chamber, but there was only one door at the far end, leading further into the ship. It dawned on him that the only reason the starship would have left it open was to lure him into a trap, but there was no other choice, but to race down it. He considered trying to blast his way out, but a simple scan of the wall material revealed that attempting to burn through it would merely cause the plasma weapons to bounce off it. Whatever it was made from, it was strong. He would have given his remaining teeth to know how it was done.

The lights flickered once, and then came back up completely, illuminating the corridor in stark relief. It was utterly bare and barren, barely large enough to allow two men to walk down side by side, and Rupert soon found himself scraping on each side of the corridor. It was closing in on him. He turned, hoping at least that he could get back to the chamber, but he was greeted by the sight of a solid black wall. The way back was blocked. He attempted to access the communications channel again, but there was nothing. The other men and women on the ship had to be experiencing the same kind of hell he was going through, discovering to their horror that the starship had come alive in front of them. By the time anyone on the outside learned what was going on, it would be too late.

Desperately, he activated his on-board arsenal and opened fire. Plasma bolts, laser cannons and particle beams flared out against the corridor walls, but they merely faded and vanished. He altered the frequency modulation of the weapons and tried again, but somehow the energy was being sucked away into nothingness. They weren’t inflicting any damage at all. The walls closed in and pressed his arms against his side, for all of his augmented strength, and then stopped. He was trapped. Rupert expected to die at any moment, but instead… in the distance, towards the end of the corridor, he saw a strange grey cloud forming out of nothing. He tried to scan it, only to get a series of contradictory results that didn’t seem to make any sense, even as the cloud advanced on him. A moment later, it swarmed over him and…

There was an instant where every augmented component in his body screamed an alarm at once, reporting endless violation of every part of his body, and then nothing, but darkness.

Chapter Thirty-Six

“What the hell?”

Captain Mikkel Ellertson had been bored, oddly enough. At first, the task of commanding the Defence Force units at Star’s End had been exciting, with the danger of a Killer starship dropping out of a wormhole to dispute possession of its captured cousin with the human race. Later, as more and more data was shunted out to the rest of the Community — and the Killers had launched their own blitzkrieg against the Community settlements — Star’s End had diminished in importance. It wasn’t exactly a backwater, not with the Killer starship sitting nearby and being slowly dissembled by the Technical Faction, but it wasn’t the front line either. The fact that it could rapidly become the front line didn’t impress him.

“We’ve got multiple power surges coming from the Killer starship,” Lieutenant Luke Falk reported, from his console. Red alarms were flashing up all over the board. “I’m picking up distress signals from hundreds of platforms and small craft.”

“Send an emergency signal to Sparta at once and alert the destroyers,” Ellertson snapped. It was right out of the tactical handbook. First, inform higher authority. He forced himself not to think about the reason that regulation was engraved in stone; the vast majority of Defence Force starships and installations that encountered the Killers didn’t live to report it afterwards. “Inform them to stand by to take action.”

It was a vague order; he didn’t know what action they should take. “And get me Doctor Singh,” he added. “I want to know what is going on.”

“I can’t raise anyone on the platforms,” Falk reported, shortly. “The power surges are blanking out everything from them, even the quantum entanglement communications system. I can’t reach anyone within two hundred kilometres of the Killer starship!”

“That’s impossible,” Ellertson protested, angrily. A nasty thought occurred to him. The one known way to block a quantum entanglement communications system was to destroy the transmitter. If the Killers had destroyed, or drained, the platforms, there would be no signals coming out. It was preferable to believing that the Killers could somehow — again — do the impossible. “Get a recon probe over there.”

“Aye, sir,” Falk said. There was a long pause. “Sir, the Killer starship is definitely powering up.”

“It was dead,” Ellertson said, in disbelief. “It shouldn’t be able to move at all without our assistance.”

“It is definitely moving, sir,” Falk said. There was another pause. “I have the Admiral on a direct line for you.”

Admiral Brent Roeder’s image materialised in the command centre. “Report,” he snapped. “What’s happening?”

Ellertson found his voice. “Sir, the Killer starship appears to be powering up,” he said. He couldn’t hide from the facts any longer. “I am totally unable to account for it, but I suspect that the ship intends to power up completely and jump out. I request permission to engage it to prevent it from escaping.”

“Granted,” Brent said, shortly. “I want an aftermath report explaining exactly how the starship started to power up and just what they did to it.”

“Aye, sir,” Ellertson said.

“Good hunting,” Brent said, and vanished. His final words seemed to hang in the air.

“Get the destroyers to close in and engage with implosion bolts,” Ellertson ordered, grimly. “I want them wrecking as much internal havoc as possible.”

Falk frowned. “Sir, there may still be people onboard the ship,” he said, “including the Spacer Representative.”

Ellertson hesitated. If they killed a Representative, even by accident, it would torpedo his career. He’d be lucky to be assigned to a fuelling station in the middle of nowhere, yet if he lost the captured ship, he’d certainly face a court-martial and probably be disgraced. The Spacers would demand his head for killing their leader… but what choice was there? If the ship powered up completely, it could lay waste the entire settlement before it escaped.

“I know,” he said, finally feeling like a real commanding officer. He hadn’t understood the price until now. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

He glanced down at his console and hit a key he had never expected to use. “Now hear this,” he said, knowing that his voice would be heard everywhere across the system. “This is a direct order. All non-Defence Force personnel are to immediately head to their evacuation stations and leave the system. I repeat, all non-Defence Force personnel are to immediately head to their evacuation stations and leave the system. I am declaring a full state of emergency.”

The channel closed. Ellertson hesitated, and then called Major Percival. He didn’t like the Footsoldier very much and suspected that the feeling was mutual. “Major, I need you and your men to supervise the evacuation,” he ordered, shortly. The Major would already know what was going on. “I want everyone off this asteroid before that thing breaks loose.”

He looked back at the shape of the Killer starship and the invisible power surges surrounding it. “I don’t think that that will be very long at all.”

* * *

“Damn it, Cindy,” Professor Lawton barked. “Can’t you get us a lick of power?”

Cindy winced, inwardly, fighting the urge to cry. The only reason she’d been assigned to the University of Chin’s contribution to the research program was that Professor Lawton, who was one of the foremost experts on matter-conversion theory outside the Technical Faction, couldn’t be relied upon to look after himself, let alone three other scientists and a horde of admiring graduate students. Cindy, who had hopes of going into advanced drive theory herself, had been selected on the entirely reasonable grounds — to a university administrator — that she knew how to fly the University’s small research craft and wouldn’t be too enthusiastic about flying too close to a possible threat. Docked, as they were, on the side of the Killer starship, she suspected that that final qualification was more of a sick joke than anything else.

“The system is completely drained,” she said, finally. She ran her hands over the touch-sensitive console, but it was only for effect. Nothing happened. “I don’t know how, but we’ve been completely drained of power.”

She ignored their protests as she continued to study the problem. The tiny starship had no quantum tap, but it did have two fusion reactors — guaranteed for at least fifty years service — and enough battery power to get them home from anywhere in the galaxy, as well as numerous tiny power sources for the emergency systems. The entire starship shouldn’t have been drained completely of power, yet it was unquestionably what had happened. The spacesuits and environmental gear had suffered the same fate. She didn’t want to think about what might have happened to anyone caught outside when disaster had struck.

“But what are we going to do?” One of the others asked. She was a fellow student and sounded as if she was on the verge of panic. “What happens when we run out of air?”

“We die,” Cindy said, just to shut them up. She peered out of the viewport towards the horizon, looking for signs of power. The other starships mated to the Killer starship hull weren’t moving, or showing signs of life. She picked up a pair of visual enhancers and peered through them, but not entirely to her surprise she couldn’t see anything, even a trace of other living human beings. Somewhere in the distance, a spacesuit was drifting towards the Killer ship…

”Hellfire,” she said, angrily. It was the obvious question and she hadn’t even thought to ask it — where, without power, was the gravity coming from? The answer was obvious; they were being held down by a gravity field generated by the Killer starship, which meant that somehow the starship had been powered up. Had it drained their power and used it to refuel itself? “Everyone; get back to your seats and strap in, now!”

She ignored their protests as she watched the hull of the Killer ship. Once, when she’d been considering archaeology as her career, she’d attended a dig on an icy world, where she’d seen bioluminescent creatures swimming under the ice. She was reminded of that now as she saw lights flaring into existence under the hull material; cold, strangely ominous lights, somehow sending chills down her spine. She looked up towards the stars, towards the great disc of the galaxy laid out in front of her, and grasped for the first time how far they were from home. If the power had failed on a system-wide basis, hundreds of thousands of humans were about to die.

The ship quivered slightly. At first, she wondered if their power had somehow been magically restored, but when she checked, she realised that everything was still dead. The Killer ship itself was shaking as the lights grew brighter, preparing to… what? Open a wormhole and escape, or devastate the entire system before departing? The lights seemed to shimmer under the hull material, irresistibly drawing her attention towards their formation, and then concentrated underneath one of the other ships. There was an explosion, chillingly silent in the darkness of space, and the starship disintegrated. The lights flared under the hull, racing towards the next starship, and a moment later that one exploded as well. Scientific platforms, monitoring stations and research ships; they all disintegrated, one by one. Cindy knew that it was just a matter of time before they died as well.

Professor Lawton couldn’t see. He didn’t understand. “What’s happening, girl?”

Cindy didn’t reply. The lights were drawing closer. Two more starships exploded in bursts of light, and then finally the lights raced towards her ship. She shook her head, remembering all the students who had wondered if there was a way to make peaceful contact with the Killers, and closed her eyes. An instant later, it was all over.

* * *

The Killer was young and unformed, yet it could draw on the race memory of its parent, the Killer Paula Handley had killed, and use it to understand what was going on. It was mildly surprised that it had even been born at all, but with the death of its parent the starship mentality had acted to bring forth another controlling mind. It slid into position, gazing out at the universe through eyes that were both young and very old, and felt its mind expand. The presence of the little mites inside its hull was a danger and it reached out to trap them, preventing them from causing any further harm. Somehow, it knew that the mites, the vermin, had killed its parent.

It had no sense of parental loyalties — the Killers had never developed that emotion, lacking the equipment to understand it — but it was coldly angry at the mites. As its mind expanded to study the universe, it became aware of other mites; some neutralised by the starship’s mentality, others hanging back, watching as the starship started to power up. They had docked their tiny ships on its hull, the Killer realised, and in a flash of anger it started to wipe them out. The hull absorbed the force of the blasts effortlessly.

They had held it prisoner, it realised, with another hot flash of anger. They had killed its parent and held it prisoner while it gestated. Only simple ignorance had saved it from being killed before it achieved the critical mass required for sentience. It wanted to carry on the fight, to obliterate every last vermin in the system, but it knew that it was unready for battle. It had not yet attained full merger with the starship mentality. The starship had been so used to its parent that it wasn’t ready to merge with a new mind, even a child of the original mind. It needed to escape, yet it would take time to generate enough power to form a wormhole. Reluctantly, it started to prepare to fight. If the mites wanted to destroy it, they would have to struggle to do so.

As the mites and their tiny ships angled around, the Killer rapidly rescanned the interior of its hull, checking for any mites it might have missed. The mites were so small that many of them had escaped its attention the first time, trying desperately to escape to their little ships — the little ships that no longer existed. It no longer needed to hide, so it reached out through the nanomachines its parent had used to build and maintain the ship and reformed the hull around them. The mites would be moved into smaller and smaller areas until they would be completely neutralised. The Killer was not yet practiced enough to split its awareness safely, but it wasn’t a complicated task. All it had to do was seal off all the possible escape routes and prevent the mites from penetrating into the heart of the starship. They would not be allowed to kill it as they had killed its parent.

The Killer refocused its attention, watching the tiny ships as they closed in on its position, and locked its weapons onto their projected positions. A moment later, as soon as they came into range, it opened fire.

* * *

“The Killer ship has opened fire,” Falk reported, from his console. They were the only two men left in the command centre. The remainder had been evacuated to the starships and sent out of the system. “They’re concentrating on the Defence Force starships.”

“Good,” Ellertson said, slowly. The entire system had enough starships to evacuate the entire population — unlike most of the other systems the Killers had attacked — but it was still taking time. Scientists were not inclined to put down their work and run, even with a Killer starship breathing down their necks… and most of them had seen the captured starship as harmless. Ellertson himself had seen the starship as harmless, a mistake that — he suspected — was about to cost him dear. “Tell me… does it know that the Defence Force starships can actually harm it?”

“I don’t know,” Falk said, after a moment. “When we captured it, it had soaked up the fire of an entire attack wing without taking significant damage. If it had a link to the remainder of the Killer communications system, surely it would have brought other Killer starships here…”

“Surely,” Ellertson agreed, reluctantly. He couldn’t envisage anyone, even the Killers, leaving a starship in enemy hands if it were within their power to recover it. The researchers had already developed new weapons from the captured ship and had used them to hurt the Killers badly. “Inform Captain Jackson to watch for a chance to disrupt their black hole. If we kill the black hole, we kill the ship.”

“Aye, sir,” Falk said. He hesitated. “Sir, we have visual confirmation. Every starship docked on the Killer hull has been destroyed. They’re all dead.”

Ellertson looked over at the Killer starship, slowly shaking itself free of the surrounding platforms and tethers. “Understood,” he said. The Defence Force would understand now. The starships were opening fire, implosion bolts digging into the Killer hull. “Tell Captain Jackson… no, belay that. Let him fight as he sees fit.”

* * *

The Killer barely noticed the different mite weapons as they opened fire, for the simple reason that its parent hadn’t bothered to collect information on its technology and tactics. It was aware that there were Killers who studied the mites, as if there was anything useful to be learned from the mites, but it had preferred to simply destroy them. The mites represented the greatest threat to their existence and therefore had to be destroyed. Learning about them, as a man might study a particularly venomous species of snake or spider, would only distract from that fundamental task. They had to exterminate the mites to ensure that the mites never threatened the Killers.

The weapons dug into its hull and it screamed, shocked at the agony, but it wasn’t shocked senseless. Unlike the older Killers, it hadn’t lived with millions of years of effective invulnerability, a universe where nothing short of a supernova or an uncontrolled black hole could harm it. It was shocked, yet it was not surprised, and it continued to return fire. It noted, absently, what the weapons were doing to its hull and concentrated on altering the hull’s spectrum to make the weapons less effective. It also swung its hull around to prevent the other weapons from making a more serious dent in its innards, although it did note that some of the weapons were likely to kill more of the mites than parts of itself. Their blasts were coming very close to where it had stored the prisoners.

It wouldn’t matter for long, anyway, it decided. It wouldn’t be long before it could open a wormhole and escape, taking its prisoners with it. Perhaps there was something to be said for studying the mites after all. The information would assist the Killers to locate their homes and burn them out, once and for all.

* * *

“Sir, we’re not inflicting enough damage,” Falk said, grimly. The entire attack wing was surrounding the Killer ship, pouring fire into the damaged sections of the hull, but it wasn’t enough to complete its destruction. The Killer starship was just too large to destroy easily and Ellertson refused to order anyone to ram it. Antimatter missiles were merely adding their power to the Killer ship’s power reserves. “They’re… sir, I’m picking up a massive gravity shift! They’re opening a wormhole, right on top of it!”

”Pull the fleet back,” Ellertson ordered, seeing the wormhole icon flickering into existence. The Killer starship slid forward, firing parting shots at the research platforms and starships as it escaped, and vanished into the wormhole. A second later, the wormhole collapsed to nothingness and disappeared. “Contact Sparta and tell them…”

He shook his head bitterly. “Tell them that we failed to prevent its escape,” he said. The Admiral would not be happy. “And then get started on rescue efforts. We have a lot of lives to save.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“I hear they lost your toy.” Captain John Raines Johnson said, as the attack wing gathered to support the Lightning. “What do you think of that?

“I don’t believe it,” Andrew said, shaking his head. If he hadn’t been on the priority list for any updated intelligence regarding the Killers, or their technology, he wouldn’t have heard about it for a few more days, or hours. The civilian scientists at Star’s End — those who had survived — would probably be clogging the communication channels to report to their universities about the missing starship. Hardly anyone would believe it at first. Starships didn’t simply operate on their own — well, human starships didn’t. Perhaps the Killers operated by different rules.

He pushed the matter out of his mind. “Leave it for the moment,” he said. Whatever happened, the attack wing had its own mission to complete. “Start the countdown; thirty seconds and counting.”

“Counting,” Captain Johnson agreed. He had a lean and hungry look on his face. He’d survived the Battle — Slaughter — of New Singapore and the chance to tear into the Killers was something he’d always wanted. The implosion bolts had their limits and the more conventional weapons only inflicted tiny amounts of damage, but they were far better than watching Killer starships advancing, shrugging off enough firepower to devastate enough star systems. “We run cover for you; you nip in, destroy their sun, and then we all go back home for victory celebrations.”

Andrew nodded. The latest reports from the observation starship and its deployed sensor drones had warned that two new Killer starships had arrived in the system, bringing the total up to forty-two, counting the damaged ships from Shiva. The undamaged starships would be targeted first, in hopes of knocking more Killer starships out of the fight, but no one knew how quickly the Killers could repair the damage to their hulls. Some scientists had speculated that it would need a repair facility, others had believed that the starships had limited self-repair capabilities — which the escape of the ship they’d captured rather proved — but no one knew for sure. Andrew had no particular interest in watching the Killers repairing themselves, and then attacking them. Damaged ships would find it harder to strike back.

And they’d have to stay and fight too, unless they wanted to lose the star system as well. Andrew knew that the Killers had vast powers and thousands of star systems, but the investment they’d put into the system they were about to destroy had to be significant, even by their standards. The loss of the system, with or without the starships, had to hurt, even if no one knew how badly. The same could probably be said for the Killers, in their hunt for human settlements; they couldn’t know how important each settlement actually was. They might hit Sparta, which would cause massive disruption, or they might hit an insignificant little black colony with only a few hundred souls. In this war, both sides were equally blind.

“Ten seconds,” Captain Johnston said. “See you on the flip side, Andrew.”

“Good hunting,” Andrew said. Johnston was right; it did feel good to be the hunter for once, rather than the hunted, or the distraction while civilians escaped the combat zone. “Kill one of them for me.”

The communications channel closed. A moment later, the icons representing a full attack wing — one that hadn’t been involved in any prior skirmishes — vanished from the display as they jumped out. Andrew rather wished that there had been time to amass more ships, but with half the Defence Force still refitting with the new weapons and the other half being sent hopping around the Community on defence missions or preparing counterattacks, it had been hard enough to scrape up a new wing. The sheer scale of the war continued to daunt him. It was hard to grasp how far the distances actually were using the Anderson Drive. Their staging area was over a hundred light years from the Killer system.

“They’re gone, sir,” Gary said. His voice was tense. “I am picking up their live feed through the relay stations.”

Andrew pursed his lips as the brief transmissions echoed through the bridge. He could see the battle on the display, with the starships zooming down at their targets and showing them with implosion bolts as soon as they entered range, ducking and weaving to avoid the return fire. The Killers were no longer ignoring them, he realised; they were wiping out all of the sensor probes within range, along with any human starship that didn’t move fast enough. A single hit was still lethal — the engineers hadn’t been able to fix that problem — and the Killers were in their element. The damaged starships could still fire… and each of their shots was still lethal. It was a very balanced contest.

“They’re pushing the Killers as hard as they can,” Gary injected, slowly. “The Killer stations are also capable of opening fire.”

“I wondered about that,” Andrew said. A human installation would have mounted weapons on a shipyard as a matter of course, but the Killers might not bother — after all, what was there that could threaten them? They’d mounted the weapons anyway and human starships died. Whatever the Killers used their installations for, they were still lethal and deadly. “Keep relaying the signal out to Sparta.”

He leaned forward as the attack wing swooped around a damaged Killer vessel, launching a spread of energy torpedoes and fake Footsoldiers into the gash in their hull, before jumping out and regrouping just out of range. The Killers reacted sharply to the apparent threat, dispatching smaller automatons that operated in space from their shipyard — if it was a shipyard — to tackle the Footsoldiers before they gained entry. That settled another question in Andrew’s mind. The Killers knew how the human race had boarded and captured one of their vessels. Tiny explosions glittered out in space as the automations closed in on the fakes, only to discover that they were keyed to explode when touched. There were always more replacement automatons.

“The automatons are not coated in hull material,” Gary said, as several automatons were picked off by the starships. “They are not designed for combat operations.”

“They’re improvising, then,” Andrew decided. He looked up at the timer. There were seven seconds to go. “Stand by to jump.”

“Coordinates set, sir,” David said. “We’re ready.”

“Jump,” Andrew ordered.

The ship shuddered slightly and then they were in the target star system. “Near-space scan,” Andrew snapped. “Have they been distracted?”

“I have no active Killer vessels within engagement range,” Gary said, after a moment. It would have been irony indeed if they had come out of Anderson Drive inside a Killer starship. It would have destroyed both ships, but the Killers would have saved their system — and never even known what they’d done. “They are currently engaged with the attack wing. I do have several installations near the star, but they appear to be without power.”

“Keep us away from them,” Andrew ordered, looking down at the display. Seventy-two starships had roared into battle; fifty-three of them were still alive, buying time for the Lightning and her crew. “David, take us down towards the star.”

The starship turned and flashed down towards the star, which grew rapidly on the viewscreen. Andrew wondered, absently, if the Killers had noticed, or realise that the attack wing was playing with them. The crews had been specifically ordered not to ram their targets, even if they wanted revenge; the Killers had to think that they could win the fight. It made Andrew sick at heart, but until some older ships could be reconfigured as ramming ships, they had to sacrifice their lives. If the Killers realised what the Lightning had in mind, they would certainly attempt to stop her, or evacuate the system themselves…

“Gravity disruption,” Gary barked. “I have a wormhole opening, right on top of us.”

“Evasive action,” Andrew snapped. The Killer starship was coming through terrifyingly fast, despite its bulk. Even with a warp field, a human starship that size would have difficulty moving that fast without tearing itself apart. “Gary; don’t bother with firing more than noisemakers, but prepare to launch the supernova bomb.”

“Aye sir,” Gary said. He sounded a little disappointed, but Andrew was adamant. There was no point in wasting firepower on the Killer when they had a supernova bomb to deliver. “Two minutes until we are in firing range…”

“It might be more than that,” David said, as the starship heeled over. Bright flashes of white light were rocketing past them towards the star. Andrew wondered briefly if the Killer weapons would have any effect on the star, but it didn’t seem likely. The star spat out more energy than that on a daily basis. It probably wouldn’t notice. “That bastard is sticking to our tails like glue.”

“Fire noisemakers,” Andrew ordered, slowly. The starship shuddered as the weapons were fired, but the Killer starship bulled through them and kept going. “Gary… I think we’re going to have to use the Implosion Bolts after all.”

“Yes, sir,” Gary said. “I have the weapons locked on target.”

“Fire at will,” Andrew ordered.

Lightning shivered again as it fired a spread of implosion bolts into the Killer’s path, sending streams of tiny explosions over the alien ship’s hull. The Killer starship didn’t slow, even though it had to be exposed to the heat of the star, threatening it with a melted end. Andrew wondered how quickly the Killer starship could back off, if it started to take significant damage from the star’s heat, but it showed no sign of pain. Perhaps the Killer had grown used to pain, although he was sure that the ship chasing them hadn’t seen action before. There was no prior damage on its hull.

“Minor damage, sir,” Gary said. He fired another spread of implosion bolts. “They should be taking damage from the heat, but… nothing.”

Andrew nodded. Superior manoeuvrability was about the only advantage the Lightning had over the Killer ship and it wasn’t enough, not in the long run. A single shot would doom them. He checked on the remaining attack wing starships and wasn’t surprised to see that they were down to thirty ships, although they had managed to take out two of the Killer starships, with a third suffering heavy damage. The odds might be evening up.

“Prepare to launch the supernova bomb,” he ordered. “Fire noisemakers, and then launch the bomb.”

“Aye, sir,” Gary said. There was a long pause as he worked his console. “Noisemakers away; supernova bomb primed, locked, and away…”

“Keep us on this course,” Andrew ordered, before David could throw them away from the star. If they were lucky, he reasoned, the Killer would miss the tiny supernova bomb against the noisemakers and the stream of radiation from the star, preventing them from destroying the weapon before it detonated and blew up the star. They might just think that it hadn’t been launched yet. “Gary; keep firing implosion bolts.”

He watched, grimly, as the Killer starship closed in on them. They knew where the missile actually was, but it was still hard for the Lightning to pick it out against the star’s background emissions. The Killers showed no awareness that it had been launched; they kept chasing the Lightning, their weapons flaring out repeatedly as they crawled into range.

“The supernova bomb has entered the star,” Gary reported, finally. It had only been a few minutes, but it had felt like hours. “The star is doomed, sir.”

“Take us out of here,” Andrew ordered. “Jump us out to the first observation point, and then inform the attack wing that the bomb has been deployed. Tell them to break contact and meet us at the rendezvous point.”

The starship shivered slightly as she jumped away from the star and the Killer starship. “We’re clear, sir,” David said, after a moment. “The Killer starship didn’t follow us.”

“I wonder if they know,” Gary said, with a grin. “They may think we decided to turn coward and run.”

“What?” David asked, his voice breaking the tension in the air. “You two have turned cowards? Two cowards… and me. Do you know what this means?”

Gary laughed. “Three cowards?”

Andrew shook his head. “They’ll know because we fled,” he said, dryly. They were only ten AU from the star. The supernova blast would envelop them as well, yet he wanted to watch what happened when the Killers had an idea of what was going on. They had a fully developed star system in the system, a shipyard and industrial centre and they wouldn’t want to lose it if they could avoid it. “Keep a close eye out for enemy wormholes and jump us out of one forms near us. We don’t need to engage them any further.”

“I’m picking up major gravity waves from the star,” Gary said, suddenly. “She’s going to blow and…”

His voice broke off. “That’s odd.”

“Odd?” Andrew repeated, feeling a cold hand clutching his heart. “What’s happening?”

“I’m not sure,” Gary said. “They’re focusing gravity beams through their facilities and onto — into — the star. I think they’re actually trying to snuff out the supernova.”

Andrew stared as the invisible titanic struggle started to play itself out. The Killers were bringing all their power to bear on the star, enough power to dismantle the entire star system, and trying to prevent the supernova from detonating. The star seemed to wobble violently in the display; buffeted by powerful external forces, it seemed to twist out of shape, before its natural gravity reasserted itself and it continued to destabilise. Andrew was reminded of an egg yolk being cooked, but this egg yolk contained enough power to wipe the system clean. Somehow, he almost felt sorry for the Killers, even though they had wiped out billions of humans. The struggle was desperate, perhaps futile, but very brave.

“That’s impossible,” David said, slowly. “They can’t prevent the star from exploding, can they?”

“They might have succeeded if they had knocked out the supernova bomb before the process became impossible to reverse,” Gary said, after a moment. “I’m not up on the theory, but I believe that if they could prevent the compression process from succeeding, they might succeed in preventing an explosion.”

He shrugged. “They’ve certainly got nothing to loss in trying.”

The Killers evidently agreed, just as they weren’t putting all their eggs in one basket. Their starships — some of them — were opening wormholes and escaping, while some of the more damaged starships were remaining in the system, apparently unable to escape. Their strange cities were rising up from the gas giants — they looked as odd and alien as they had at the Cinder System — and heading out to where they could open a wormhole and escape themselves. Andrew felt a moment’s pity, but not much. He had seen too many human civilian populations trying to flee while the warriors held the line, somehow. The Killers had sown the wind… and now they could reap the whirlwind.

“They’re losing her,” Gary said, suddenly. The gravity beams were flickering out of existence, one by one, replaced by a pair of far more powerful beams that seemed to be trying to speed up the compression, rather than preventing it or slowing it down. Andrew silently took his hat off to the Killer who had thought of that; if it worked, they would have a new black hole to use as a power source, rather than a supernova exploding in their system. “I don’t think they can compress it down enough, sir…”

There was a long pause. The fate of the universe seemed to hang in the balance. “And they can’t,” Gary said. “The star has gone supernova.”

The display looked odd. The star looked normal and would continue to look normal until the light and blast of the supernova finally reached their position, but the gravimetric sensors told the true story. Agonised, tormented beyond reason, the star had blown off much of its mass in a colossal explosion and doomed its child star system. The Killer gravity beams flickered out of existence as the Killers redoubled their attempt to escape. They couldn’t get their entire population out in time.

“Get us out of here,” Andrew ordered, quietly. Warp bubble or no warp bubble, nothing human could protect the Lightning if she were caught by the expanding wavefront of energy. He could have taken the starship to shelter behind a planet, but with so much gravity disruption in the system, it might have had additional dangers. “Take us to the second waypoint.”

From a safe distance, they watched the star system die. The expanding wavefront had washed over the gas giants, igniting the gas of two of them and burning billions of Killers living down in the clouds, and overwhelmed the remaining Killer starships. They hadn’t even tried to seek shelter, or escape from the supernova; they’d just… accepted their fate and died. The massive Killer installations melted under the wavefront, but were too large and solid to be completely destroyed, even the ones completely exposed to the supernova. Andrew made a note in his report; the Defence Force would have to send experts to pick over the rubble and see if there was anything useful there. It didn’t seem likely, but the Killers had surprised them before.

“I think we won,” Gary said, softly. He sounded as shocked as Andrew. This was the third star that humanity had killed… and the second Killer star system to be utterly destroyed. It represented a whole new level of destructive achievement. “I think we hit them hard enough to make them consider peace.”

“Sure,” David said, from his console. He looked up from laying in the course back to the supernova bomb arsenal. Lightning had three more systems to roast before the end of the day. “Or perhaps we made them really mad at us.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“I am not interested in recriminations,” Brent said, staring at the small council that had assembled — in person or via telecommunications — in his office. “I am interested in knowing just what went wrong.”

He looked around the group, from person to person. “I have a dozen reports saying that the ship — the captured ship — was dead. I have a hundred scientists who still cannot believe a word of the report that you filed” — he glowered at Captain Mikkel Ellertson, who lowered his eyes and stared at the desk — “and believe that we somehow decided, for reasons they cannot articulate, to keep it for ourselves. I confess that I would probably wonder the same myself. After all, based on everything we knew about the Killers, we knew that it was dead.”

“Based on everything we knew about the Killers, we had good cause to believe that it was dead,” Paula Handley said, calmly. She had loudly protested being dragged away from Shiva to attend the meeting, but Brent had known that she was in no position to refuse. The Technical Faction hadn’t quite decided if she should be rewarded, suspected or expelled… and as long as she didn’t know where she stood, it would be unwise of her to annoy other factions. “There were, clearly, things we did not know about the Killers.”

“Really,” Brent said. His scowl owed nothing to facial manipulation. “Your own reports suggested that there was something… still alive in there. Do you believe that you were wrong when you were clearly right?”

“In hindsight, I was right,” Paula said. Her mouth tightened noticeably. “I conducted the first survey of the hijacked ship during its passage to Star’s End and its subsequent placement on a free orbit around the star. I reported at the time that the ship had powered down to the lowest recorded levels of any known Killer starship and was no longer attempting self-repair, communication or anything, apart from keeping the black hole under control. The loss of the guiding mind had, I believed, disabled the ship permanently and prevented it from doing anything about its situation. I concluded that the fact that no other Killer starship had come to reclaim the missing ship proved that it wasn’t communicating… in short, that it was dead.

“And yet, while I was alone on the vessel, I sensed… a kind of free-floating awareness, a presence, surrounding me. I was unable to define it in terms that could be put into a report. It was like hearing whispers so quietly that I couldn’t even be sure that they were there, let alone understand their content. My supervisors in the Technical Faction told me that I wasn’t alone in having such feelings — other researchers, boarding abandoned human starships, had similar experiences. It was dismissed as nothing, but nerves and night terrors.”

She shook her head. “I am unable to account for its sudden awakening,” she concluded. “It is possible that the Killer somehow rebuilt itself inside the craft’s biomechanical interface, or that some kind of emergency program was tripped, but we have no way of knowing for sure. By the time emergency alarms started to sound, the craft was already halfway towards escape.”

“And it swallowed up the Leader of the Spacer faction, as well as seven hundred and fifty scientists and researchers from all over the Community,” Brent snapped. He turned his gaze to another hologram, floating in the centre of the room. “Do you believe that that was intentional, or merely a coincidence?”

Chiyo99 seemed to flinch slightly under his gaze. As a mortal Lieutenant, she would never have seen an Admiral, unless she was posted to one of the command ships or support bases. As a personality in the MassMind, she was no longer part of the Defence Force, yet she had been willing to remain attached to him as long as she was needed. Her eyes held a vaguely haunted look; the MassMind, at her request, had strip-mined her entire mind, just to confirm her story. Brent shuddered every time he thought about it; Chiyo99 might have been a duplicate of a duplicate of a woman whose body had probably been recycled or fed into a black hole, but she was still a person. No one deserved to be violated like that, willingly or otherwise.

“I do not believe that the Killer I knew, the one I spied upon, was aware of our existence in more than vague terms,” she said, finally. “It — he, perhaps — showed no awareness of individual humans, or even anything other that a vague interest. I doubt that they could tell the difference between a Representative and a… well, a Technical Faction Researcher. They may even be unaware that they picked up a few hundred prisoners. The prisoners may even be able to disable the starship again before it gets too far…”

“It could be halfway across the galaxy by now,” Brent growled. That was wishful thinking at best. Disabling the starship the first time had been sheer luck and, the reports had made quite clear, the Killers had already begun to improve their internal defences. The prisoners would probably be hunted down and killed. “Do they stand a chance?”

His gaze fell on Ellertson, who shook his head. “Apart from the Spacer and a handful of others, the researchers were generally wearing civilian-grade life-support gear, not military-grade systems. They have roughly four days before they run out of atmosphere, assuming that the systems are still in working order. The Killers drained power, however, from every starship on the hull, so they may have done the same to the researchers. If that is the case, sir, they’re dead — particularly the Spacer. He could not survive without power in his systems.”

“Maybe not,” Paula said, thoughtfully. “I believe that their power-draining system was really part of their hull; they were diverting power from every non-essential system to the drives, weapons and wormhole generator. The induction field might not have been calibrated to register the presence of outside starships clinging on like limpets to the hull.”

“And, in any case, it made a hell of a weapon,” Ellertson added. “The scientists didn’t stand a chance.”

“It is possible that it was the presence of the Spacer who triggered the whole incident,” Paula added. Brent stared at her in surprise. The Killers never paid attention to individual humans. “The Spacers are humans and technology in fusion; the Killer starships are a perfect fusion between Killer biological cells and their spacecraft. They may have been fascinated — rather like us watching some of the creatures under the icy moon of Jupiter developing tools — and snatched the Spacer for further study.”

“Perhaps,” Chiyo99 agreed. “They did snatch me, after all.”

Brent sat back in his chair and pulled up a chart. A handful of wrecked Killer starships had been captured in various states and all had been moved to different locations. The most useful one, captured at Shiva, was largely intact, apart from the damage inflicted by the implosion bolts and subsequent pounding. The Killer was dead, it seemed, yet was that actually true?

He outlined his fears slowly. “There are, as you know, other sites examining Killer technology,” he said. “Are we going to face the same problem again, perhaps more than once? The researchers have enough problems without worrying if their subject is going to come to life and suddenly start to kill them.”

“Maybe,” Paula said. She frowned, his face becoming distracted as she scanned the reports from the other sites. “I believe that the ship captured at Shiva has lost power completely, or at least that’s what the reports say, but I cannot advise you to ignore the possible danger. I would suggest that you ordered the researchers to probe the starship’s neural net and try and determine if power is still trickling through parts of the system.”

“You could also advise them to take antimatter bombs along with them,” Ellertson added. “They would need time to generate an absorbing field to prevent the bomb from detonating…”

“They don’t prevent the bomb from detonating,” Paula said, pedantically. “They absorb the power before it can do any damage.”

“Then why don’t they just absorb everything we throw at them?” Ellertson asked. “It makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Paula countered. “They couldn’t absorb everything or they’d cripple themselves and render the hull useless. They probably have a power threshold; anything beyond a certain level gets drained into the power reserves, or just dropped into a black hole.”

She turned to face Brent. “I can give you no other advice,” she said, shortly. “If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

Brent smiled, rather dryly. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll give you a call if I need further advice or assistance.”

Her hologram blinked out of existence. “Captain Ellertson,” Brent said, “you are to complete the rescue and recovery missions, and then prepare to wrap up the Star’s End operation completely. There’s no point in keeping the station in existence now the Killers know about it — or they will when our lost child returns home — and there’s nothing there worth fighting for. Let them devastate empty asteroids if they must.”

“Yes, sir,” Ellertson said.

“Good,” Brent said. “Once your task is complete, report to Admiral Hawser. There will be other missions for your attack wing to perform. Dismissed.”

Brent’s image vanished as well, leaving Brent staring at Chiyo99. “Do you believe that the Spacer did cause the ship to come alive?”

“I did not believe it the first time,” Chiyo99 pointed out. “I have heard nothing to change my opinion. Have you considered the other matter?”

Brent winced, rubbing his eyes and wishing for sleep. It had been hours before someone had compared the list of Community settlements to Killer colonies and realised that one of the Killer settlements was within the Solar System, deep within Saturn’s gaseous atmosphere. There might be smaller settlements on Jupiter, Uranus or even Neptune, although no one was quite sure why the Killers chose some gas giants and ignored others. The best anyone had been able to suggest was that perhaps they didn’t like the weather. Jupiter did have one of the largest storm formations in the galaxy — the Great Red Spot.

It reminded him of how different life had to be for the Killers, even before Chiyo99 had confirmed many of their suspicions. The Killers might have settled Saturn before humanity learned to make fire — it would be too much a coincidence if it was their homeworld, although no one had been able to turn up a likely candidate and it was possible that even the Killers no longer knew — and, in their timeless world, had simply never sent starships to the system before they destroyed Earth. Humanity might well have missed a starship arriving in the system until telescopes were invented; hell, Galileo and his contemporaries might have seen a Killer starship, and then merely misidentified it. Humanity might even have missed them until they were establishing settlements on Saturn’s moons and started thinking about mining Jupiter and Saturn for fuel. It wasn’t that long, not on a galactic scale.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. The last thing he wanted to do was destroy the Sol System. Earth might be a wreck, but it was humanity’s own homeworld and special to the entire race. One day, it might even be possible to terraform it and return to the planet. “I think that that’s something that will have to be discussed by the War Council.”

He turned away from her, thinking hard. They could use another fission weapon on Saturn, but that would devastate the moons and the rings, part of humanity’s heritage. It was more important to think about the millions of humans who still lived in the Sol System, the humans who would resent being ordered out, or watching as their star system was devastated. Yet, he knew, if the war continued, they would have to destroy entire star systems in order to save them… and if they couldn’t evacuate the population first, they would die in fire.

Who needs the Killers? He thought, grimly. We can slaughter ourselves in job lots without any help from the bastards.

“Sir?” Chiyo99 asked. “What are you…?”

The sound of the alarm cut her off. “Admiral, we have four wormholes opening within fifty thousand kilometres,” Captain Waianae’s voice said. “You have to see this.”

Brent grabbed his jacket and raced to the command centre, leaving Chiyo99 behind. She would have to join the other Defence Force personalities in preparing to abandon the asteroid, or take her chances by remaining in the asteroid’s processors, where she might die if the Killers turned their weapons on Sparta. Brent had been preparing for their return after they buzzed Sparta weeks ago — it felt like years — but now that he was confronted by their return, he felt cold. Sparta was armed to the teeth, yet the Killers were terrifyingly powerful. The battle might not end well.

“Report,” he barked, as he strode into the command centre. It was buried within the heart of the asteroid, protected by a kilometre of rocky cover, yet it wouldn’t stand up to the Killer weapons for more than a few seconds. He took his command chair and stared up at the display. “What’s happening out there?”

“Four Killer starships, very close to us,” Captain Waianae said, “but they’re doing nothing. They’re just staring at us.”

Brent pulled up the main display and nodded slowly. Captain Waianae was right. The Killers had returned in force; four of their starships sat just outside weapons range, dominating the entire star system by their sheer presence. The Defence Force starships were scrambling to intercept, but even the ten attack wings that he had reserved for the defence of Sparta were grossly outmatched. The destroyers would hurt their opponents badly, perhaps even wipe them out if they rammed the Killer ships, but the asteroid system would still be devastated.

“Attempt to hail them,” he ordered, finally. Perhaps they wanted to talk. They had eyeballed Sparta before without opening hostilities. “Inform me the moment you get any response.”

He turned to the communications officer without waiting for a reply. “Send a general warning out to the other command bases,” he continued. “Inform Admiral Hawser that he may find himself promoted to Supreme Commander” — inheriting a dead man’s shoes, part of his mind whispered — “and that he should start considering contingency plans to meet that eventuality.”

“Yes, sir,” the communications officer said. He didn’t show any signs of fear, but Brent could hear it in his voice. It was hard to blame him. If the Killers bulled right at the human asteroid settlement, they’d punch right through the defences and wreck havoc. “He’s responding and wishes you good luck.”

Brent snorted. “And inform the evacuation coordinator that I want everyone not in Category A to start moving off the asteroid now,” he said, silently thanking God that he’d ordered everyone non-essential off the station after the Killers had buzzed past the first time. “We can try and prevent a massacre.”

“There is no response from the Killers,” Captain Waianae reported, as Brent turned back to her. “They’re making no attempt to communicate, even in their own internal RF signalling frequencies. They’re just… watching us.”

Brent glanced up towards the ceiling and saw others doing the same. They wouldn’t even be aware of the Killer starships without their sensors, but now they knew that they were there, they seemed to feel them at the back of their necks. The tension in the compartment was rising, not helped by several Category B personnel who insisted in remaining behind and facing possible death along with the remainder of the Category A personnel. Most of the duty officers were quietly preparing to upload copies of their personalities to the MassMind, just in case they died in battle. Brent remembered what Chiyo99 had gone through and shivered. After watching what she had become, he would think long and hard before grasping the immortality the MassMind offered humanity.

He was vaguely aware of new personalities peering out through the sensors; the War Council, come to watch what happened when the Killers went up against humanity’s foremost military base. He didn’t attempt to talk to them. There was nothing that they could do to help, but they could distract him at a crucial moment. He considered ordering the starships to attack, to attempt to drive the Killers away before they carried out another slaughter, but that would merely have started the fighting. What, he found himself wondering, was so special about the Sparta System that the Killers were reluctant to pick a fight there? There was no gas giant in the system, no possible cause of Killer hesitation, apart from the human ships. Could it be that the Killers had finally learned fear of humanity?

Chiyo99 was still peering through the sensors herself, rather than retreating back into the MassMind. “Tell me something,” Brent subvocalised. “Is there anything, anything at all, in the data you obtained about this system? Is there anything here that they couldn’t just take?”

“No, sir,” Chiyo99 said. Her voice darkened. “I didn’t get a complete copy of their database, so it is possible that there’s something here to interest them, but I can’t think what it could be. There’s nothing here, but a lot of asteroids — and Sparta.”

“And Sparta,” Brent repeated. Perhaps the Killers actually had learned fear after all. Humans had surveyed the system carefully when looking for a place to locate a military base and hadn’t found anything other than asteroids. “Perhaps…”

“New gravity surges,” Captain Waianae said, as alarms echoed through the command centre. “They’re opening new wormholes.”

“Where?” Brent demanded. The Killers had been waiting for reinforcements. “Where are they coming in…?”

“Here,” Captain Waianae snapped. There was an undertone of panic in her voice as new red icons flashed into existence on the display. “They’re coming in right on top of us!”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ozzie Allen saw it clearly from his position. He had been outside the asteroid in a mechanical bug when the Killers arrived and had chosen to remain outside, rather than returning to the dubious safety of the asteroid. If the Killers opened fire, he had reasoned, he would be safer in the harmless bug — so tiny that no one could consider it a threat — than in the asteroid, which was almost certainly their primary target. He had been staring at the Killer starships, so large that they were visible with the naked eye, when a new gravity wave had picked up the bug and tossed it hundreds of kilometres from its former position.

The wormhole opened in a brilliant swirl of light and disgorged a massive Killer starship, already far too close to Ozzie for his liking. He almost panicked and triggered the bug’s drives to escape, but caught himself in time, knowing that an active drive field would be detected and destroyed automatically. The Killer starship ignored him and charged right at Sparta Asteroid. It looked, to Ozzie, as if it were committing suicide… and then the horrifying truth dawned on him. The kamikaze ship was undamaged. It possessed an intact, impregnable hull… and it was closing in rapidly on the nerve centre of the Defence Force. He keyed his radio to scream a warning, but it was already too late. The Killer starship, moving at several thousand kilometres a second and packing more mass than any other known starship, struck the asteroid dead centre and battered right through. The asteroid seemed to shatter under the impact.

Ozzie watched in stunned disbelief as the Killer starship, utterly unharmed by the experience, pulled away from its target, bright white lights flaring over its hull. A moment later, it opened fire, sweeping bolts of white light out at every conceivable target. The other Killer starships, closing in rapidly from their prior position, opened fire as well, bombarding every human installation within range. The battle had lasted barely twenty seconds… and the Killers had already struck most of the important starships. The defending ships closed in rapidly, bombarding the Killer ships with implosion bolts, energy torpedoes and particle beams — joined by the still-formidable defence platforms located near the main asteroids — but it was too late. The Killers had already inflicted decisive damage on the entire star system.

System Command, what was left of it, was shouting instructions to the small fleet of support craft, trying to organise a rescue mission, but Ozzie suspected that it was hopeless. The remains of Sparta Asteroid were more intact than he had dared hope, but the entire asteroid had been torn open to the vacuum of space and most of the emergency systems had to have been knocked out by the unprecedented attack. He brought the bug’s drive systems online — he wasn’t going to leave his fellow officers in space at the mercy of the Killers — but knew there was little hope of finding many survivors. They would all have been killed by the impact alone.

* * *

“They’re going to hit us,” someone shouted, and then the entire asteroid rocked violently, so violently that Brent could have sworn that it was on the verge of coming apart completely. The lights flickered and went out as consoles exploded, warning that massive power surges were running amok through the asteroid… and all the emergency systems had failed. As the command centre was plunged into darkness, he could hear, faintly, the sound of escaping air.

If Sparta Asteroid had been a rotating asteroid, using its spin to generate artificial gravity rather than gravity generators, the Killer attack would have killed them all. The combination of the spin and damaged sections would have completed the task of ripping the asteroid apart. As it was, they were alive — barely — even if they were out of the fight. Brent brought up his command-level augmentation implants — he detested using them, but this was an emergency — and tried to ping for a working computer processor. There was no response, even when he made a general broadcast on the emergency frequency; the asteroid’s emergency system had been completely knocked out. He pushed aside the thought of how much redundancy had been built into the system — failure shouldn’t have been a possibility unless the asteroid had been completely destroyed — and struggled to pull himself together. The noise of escaping air was growing louder and the command crew were starting to panic. That could not be allowed.

“Quiet,” he bellowed, half-wishing that he had a chemical weapon to fire into the air. That would have assured him of their attention, although perhaps not reassured them of his sanity. “All right, the asteroid has taken a hit and we’re out of the fight. We have to concentrate on survival and not panic. Bring up your implants and prepare to activate your internal force fields.”

There was no argument, although he heard the sound of snivelling in the background. He didn’t blame the person who was on the verge of breaking down — they had anticipated a quick death from Killer weapons, not death by exposure to hard vacuum — but there was no time to panic. The internal force fields they all had as part of their combat augmentation would provide limited protection, yet he knew all too well that they would last — at best — an hour at most. Force fields drained power like a small black hole.

He felt his feet leaving the deck and realised that something else had failed. The gravity generator had been knocked out as well. He considered it for a moment and decided that it probably worked in their favour. It would be easier to rescue anyone trapped under falling stone. He triggered his augmented vision as well and peered around the command centre, marvelling at the strange view in front of him. The seventeen men and women in the command centre were clinging on for dear life, hanging on to their useless consoles or chairs. A handful of men were drifting in the air, unmoving; they’d been killed when their consoles exploded. The survivors were lucky that the compartment hadn’t caught fire.

“Bring up your augmented vision and focus on me,” Brent ordered. A faint draft was pulling him towards a hatch leading out towards the docks at one end of the asteroid, suggesting the location of the leak. He followed it reluctantly, activating his communications implant and ordering a permanent scan for other communicator signatures. If someone was trapped and helpless, they would be using their implants to call for help. “We cannot stay here.”

He skimmed through his memory of the asteroid’s layout and found the location of the emergency supplies, the ones that no one had ever considered that they might actually needed. He altered the map manually — it took longer than having the computers do it for him — and transmitted the altered map to the remaining people in the compartment. They responded, opening up their own communications systems, adding their signals to his broadband call for help. There was an outside chance that they would attract the Killers, Brent knew, but he had chosen to dismiss that possibility. If the Defence Force starships on the outside didn’t rescue them, they would die when their force fields ran out of power.

“Follow me,” he ordered, after a quick check of the survivors. There were a handful of tiny injuries, but no one had been so badly injured that they couldn’t move. The unlucky ones were dead. He pulled himself over to the cracked hatch and hunted for the manual release. Captain Waianae joined him a moment later and added her strength to his, allowing them to slowly crank the hatch open completely. They looked out onto a scene from hell. The air was visible now as it cooled, sucked down the corridor into the distance… the Killer ship, he realised, had to have impacted just a few kilometres away from their position. Who in their right mind would have thought of using a starship to smash an asteroid wide open?

We would have, he thought ruefully, as the cold started to seep into his bones. He shared a long glance with Captain Waianae and then activated his internal force field. The Killer tactic had proven spectacularly successful and now they had either departed or were engaging the Defence Force. He couldn’t do anything about it from his position, he knew, so he pushed it out of his mind and concentrated on the map. If they didn’t reach the emergency supplies, they were dead.

The remaining command staff followed him, struggling against the pull caused by the outpouring of air. The asteroid had enough air to keep generating the current for a few more minutes yet, Brent decided, but they couldn’t wait for it to run out and leave them standing in a vacuum. The emergency force fields that should have prevented more than a tiny outpouring of air had obviously failed as well, not entirely to his surprise. Humans had used kinetic weapons before — indeed, on Earth, early firearms had all been kinetic weapons — but it had been a long time since anyone had used kinetic weapons on such a scale. He pulled himself from handhold to handhold, wishing for a jetpack or some other way to manoeuvre without risking being sucked out by the airflow, and somehow made it all the way through the corridor. It was a moment later when he saw the dead bodies.

They had clearly been caught by surprise; three women, one man, all wearing Defence Force uniforms. They had had no time to raise their own force fields, or brace for impact; the shock had smashed them against the corridor and killed them. The outpouring of air was pulling them gradually towards the breach in the hull; Brent wanted to catch them, to tether them to something so that their bodies could be recovered later, but they had no time. He found himself hoping that the bodies patched the rent in the hull, although he knew that that wasn’t likely. Their problems were far worse than a single tiny hull breach.

“Keep going,” he hissed, as two of the command staff looked as if they were about to give up and wait for death. The outpouring of air was slowing down now, suggesting that the air supply was running out. There were more objects floating in the air now, everything from vital equipment to clothes and supplies; he found himself battering them out of his way as they crawled into the emergency compartment. The young Brent had wondered why the Community bothered insisting that emergency compartments were part and parcel of every asteroid settlement; the older and wiser Admiral was grateful that they were there. He keyed the door and it hissed open, revealing a sealed compartment and enough supplies to outfit all of the command staff.

“Get everyone into suits and equipped,” he ordered Captain Waianae, who moved to obey. Pulling on suits without gravity wasn’t easy, but they would manage it, somehow. The entire Defence Force took classes in how to move without gravity, although Brent knew that most cadets passed the exams and then never went outside a gravity field again. He made a mental note to insist that — if they got out alive — everyone in the Defence Force was exposed to zero-gravity at least once per year. The lesson should have been learned long ago.

“Aye, sir,” she said. Her voice, even though the communications implants, was calm and practical. “Will you be putting on a suit yourself, sir?”

“Of course,” Brent said. It was like having a Mother Hen pecking at him, but she was right. “I’ll activate the emergency systems first, then get dressed.”

He placed his hand on the emergency systems panel and waited for them to respond to the implant emplaced in his right hand. It took a moment before the emergency system came online — it should have come on automatically when the asteroid was hit — and it couldn’t tell him anything useful. The asteroid’s computer network was all screwed up and half of the asteroid seemed to be gone. Brent wasn’t entirely surprised. The Killer starship might have smashed the asteroid right in half.

“I’m getting nothing on the progress of the battle,” he said, after a moment. The external sensors seemed to be completely down as well, for reasons he couldn’t understand. Most of the systems should have existed independently of the main computer, although it was possible that the sensors were fine and the computer relay system was messed up. “We may not get any help from outside.”

Captain Waianae nodded, her face pale behind the suit’s visor. “That may make escape difficult,” she said, with masterful understatement. The Killer starship had separated them from the docks. The FTL starships would be gone or otherwise inaccessible. “We’ll have to get outside and see if we can signal for help from there.”

Brent nodded. The emergency procedures should have let them all remain inside the shelter until rescue arrived, but few people would want to remain there. The Sparta System had just been knocked out of the war. After the asteroid had been hit so badly, it was possible that there would only be a cursory search for survivors before the Defence Force starships pulled out to other war fronts. They might be left alive to wait until the atmosphere ran out. They couldn’t afford to assume that there would be time to mount a search for them.

And, he thought, in the privacy of his own head, anyone on the outside may not even pick up the distress beacon. Everything else has failed today.

“All right,” he said, addressing all of his people. “Listen carefully.”

He ran through their situation and explained the problem. “We have to get out onto the surface, but only a handful of us have to go,” he concluded. “Does anyone want to stay here? It will not be counted against them.”

No one, much to his private pride, chose to stay behind. “You two are staying behind,” he said, pointing to two of the injured girls. “If anyone else turns up here, get them into a spacesuit as well and prepare them for possible evacuation. Keep in touch via implant communicators and keep heart. We’ll be back for you before you know it.”

He turned and nodded to Captain Waianae. “Let’s move,” he said. “Open the hatch.”

There was no rush of air this time, but only a spooky silence. He called up the map in his implants and found the quickest way towards one of the emergency egress hatches, but decided, after a moment’s thought, to head towards the hull breach instead. The hatch might be jammed, or otherwise inaccessible, and they knew that the hull breach was open to space. He led the way down the corridor, flying the suit as well as he could, bumping off the walls as he moved. It was small consolation to know that everyone else was having just as bad a time; spacesuit drills, too, were a thing of the past. It was something else that he would have to change.

They passed several more dead bodies as they moved further towards the hull breach, both men who had been deemed essential. There would have been more bodies if the Killer attack had been a complete surprise, without the evacuation plans, but Brent couldn’t account for their delay in attacking. Why had they watched the asteroid system without attacking? Why had they waited so long to mount an offensive? The only explanation that made any sense to him was that the Killers had used the first ships to triangulate the location of their wormhole when they had charged through it and into battle, but why would they even need to do that when they could have just opened fire? Had they believed that humanity had duplicated their impregnable hulls?

He pushed that, too, out of his mind as they rounded a corner and saw the hull breach at the end of the throughway. The damage was much greater than he had expected; the Killer attack had bisected the entire asteroid. He accessed his implants and scanned again for any other signs of life, but nothing presented itself for inspection. They might as well have been alone in the universe. He attached a tether to the asteroid hull — that, too, had been taught back at the Academy — and used the suit’s jets to push himself out into space. The stars were still watching him in their silent majesty, but he could see signs of a space battle raging out amidst the system, tiny flashes of light… yet each of those flashes signified the death of a human starship. The Killers were still out there, somewhere…

“This is Admiral Roeder,” he said, concentrating on a full-spectrum distress call. Out in space, the starships should be able to hear them without interference. If they could break contact and come in to pick up the survivors… that, he knew, was a different story. “Emergency; we require an emergency pick-up now, I repeat…”

Ten minutes later, a bug drifted into view. It was hardly the kind of ship normally used for a rescue mission, but Brent had no choice. The pilot managed to take the wounded onboard and departed to deposit them on one of the evacuation systems, while Brent and the remaining command staff waited for the next pick-up starship. It wasn’t long in coming.

“They’re breaking contact,” Captain Ackbar reported, once Brent reached the bridge. The small destroyer had left the combat zone to pick up the survivors; a pitifully small number, compared to the thousands who normally manned the asteroid. “They’re running from us.”

“No,” Brent corrected. He felt very tired and it was all he could do not to slump on the bridge. There were reports flooding in from all over the Community of new Killer attacks. “They did what they came here to do.”

Chapter Forty

From a safe distance — a very safe distance — Shiva was completely invisible to the naked eye, apart from a faint blue glow. Paula wasn’t entirely sure if the glow was her imagination or not, but it hardly mattered; the black hole was very apparent to her sensors as it curved space and time into a tight ball. The flickers of radiation emitting from it as it consumed tiny particles — the remains of the battle debris that had once littered the system — marked its position well enough for her work. The network of gravity-emitters she’d had built in position around the black hole were enough to give her some degree of control over the hole in space she’d created. She had to hope that it was enough.

The Killers had achieved a high degree of control over black holes and Paula was all too aware that the human race was trying to catch up with them; there was no time for a quiet research program that could explore and consider every possible angle before the actual experimentation began. Paula had never been too enthused about exploring all of the angles before actually testing the theories — theories tended to grow on researchers, pushing them into looking for ‘proof’ rather than observing the experiment with an open mind — but now that she was prepared to start her experiments, she almost quailed. The Killers might pick up her experiments — no, she knew; there was no doubt that they would pick up her experiments — and move to silence her forever. The thought of the Killers recognising that Paula Handley, a Technical Faction Researcher, was a personal threat to them made her smile, but they might well decide to destroy her station and take possession of the black hole.

Her eyes looked at the inner-system display and she winced. Two days ago, the Killers had launched their second blitzkrieg against the Community and the death toll was mounting rapidly. The fleet of destroyers that had been assigned to guard the black hole after the last battle had been largely pulled out, leaving her and Shiva almost unprotected, apart from their command ship. Paula made no claim to being a military tactician, but even she knew that a single ship wouldn’t be able to stop the Killers, unless something new came out of her weapons research. The irony was that she did have a potential weapon in mind, yet she had no time to concentrate on it. She had detailed the idea to the Technical Faction and the MassMind; they would have to follow up on it, without her. She had a more important task to complete.

“Last chance, I think,” she said, looking over at Chris. She still didn’t know why an entire Platoon of Footsoldiers had been assigned to her personal protection, but it did give her a feeling of security. The growing intimacy between her and Chris rather helped. If she had had the time, she would probably have sought to speed up the process and invited him to bed, but there were more important concerns. “If you and your men want to leave, now is your chance.”

Chris gave her a reproving look. “We didn’t leave earlier and we’re not going to leave now,” he said. “Besides, even if we did, where would we go?”

Paula nodded, slowly. The reports had kept filtering in from the Killer offensive. A team of heavily-armed Footsoldiers had attempted to board and disable a Killer starship, only to be intercepted by armed and ready automatons. The resulting firefight had devastated the interior of the Killer starship, but had failed to disable the ship — the entire team had been wiped out. The Killers had adjusted their tactics and overcome most of the new weapons the human race had deployed.

Nine more Killer star systems had been destroyed by the human supernova bombs, wiping out God alone knew how many Killers, but that was just a drop in the bucket compared to how many Killer star systems there were out there. There were thousands of reports and millions of rumours flying through the MassMind, talking about the need to evacuate settlements before the stars they orbited were turned supernova, or the Rockrat offensive by bombarding Killer gas giants with asteroids from a safe distance. The Killers seemed barely to notice the latter; indeed, if some of the simulations were accurate, asteroids might have been how the proto-Killers got their hands on metals in the first place. Paula knew — through her own contracts — that every industrial-grade fabricator in the Community had been turned over to producing supernova bombs, but it wasn’t easy to produce them in the sheer volume that would be required to exterminate the Killers.

And, for that matter, she wasn’t sure what would happen to the galaxy if so many stars were simply destroyed. The galaxy was held together by gravity — the force the Killers controlled somehow — and losing so many stars would definitely have an effect, although she wasn’t sure what. There were simulations that argued that the galaxy would eventually — billions of years in the future — collapse into the massive black hole at the core, and other simulations that suggested that the galaxy would come apart completely. There was even a really far-out simulation that suggested that blowing up so many stars would cause a chain reaction that would send the remaining stars in the galaxy supernova, although Paula doubted that that was actually the case. It was beyond belief.

“I understand,” she said, finally. Chris and his men could join the Exodus, as the news media had already dubbed it, but that wasn’t in their nature. Millions of humans were fleeing the Milky Way galaxy permanently, heading out to the Clouds or much further away, but the entire Community couldn’t move. It would have been logistically impossible. Chris and his men would have preferred to stay and fight, but instead they were babysitting one academic and her pet black hole. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

A black hole, viewed from one point of view, was a hole leading down into the fabric of space-time. Another point of view merely had it that black holes were ultramassive objects that bent gravity around them. Confusingly, to the layman, both explanations were actually true, although not particularly easy to grasp. Paula had attempted to explain it to the Footsoldiers, all highly-intelligent men, and they hadn’t grasped it entirely. To add to the confusion, two black holes vibrating at the same frequency could be used to form a wormhole between them, or merely a communications link.

Paula believed — and knew that many others shared her theory — that the Killers used it as a method of communication. A tiny black hole should have evaporated in a puff of Hawking Radiation, but the Killers could certainly have used their gravity manipulation technology to keep one alive and use it as a communications system. A larger black hole could be used as a power source — they knew now that that was how the Killers powered their starships — and a supermassive one could be used to create gravity beams that could be felt all over the galaxy. The Killers hadn’t attempted to develop quantum entanglement communications technology because they hadn’t needed any such thing. They already possessed instantaneous communication and transport technology.

“MassMind, come online,” she ordered. If something went wrong, the MassMind might be required to assist her in dealing with it, or at the very least sucking out all their personalities before the disaster overwhelmed them. Its reactions were inhumanly fast and competent. “Link into the system and stand by.”

“Standing by,” the MassMind confirmed. It housed the personalities and memories of humans who had been involved in such research since it had been created. Its presence should provide an extra degree of security. “We are ready to move on your command.”

Paula nodded. “Switch power to gravity manipulators,” she ordered, slowly. “Target the gravity beams on the black hole and engage.”

The power rapidly built up as the gravity beams started to flow out of the orbiting platforms and down towards the black hole. This, Paula knew, was what might convince the Killers to forget the bloody nose they’d received the last time they’d come to the Shiva System and return to destroy her. Gravity beams had been their exclusive technology. Now, Paula was manipulating the black hole in front of her, attempting to gain control over it and use it as a power source. It’s gravity field, immensely strong — even though Shiva was puny, compared to some black holes the human race had observed — seemed to dance and twist as the gravity beams intersected with it, reaching down towards the singularity at the core of the black hole.

She was barely aware of time passing as the gravity beams continued their dance. The black hole seemed to jump and twist like a living thing — control over the black hole, it seemed, was not as simple as she had assumed — but slowly she wrestled it into submission. The Killers, she realised slowly, operated on an entirely different principle. They drained the power from the black hole, used that power to control the black hole, and then funnelled most of the power back into the black hole. The black hole, she reflected, was quite literally paying for its own enslavement.

“Its lucky for them that you’re not intelligent,” she muttered to herself as she continued to probe the black hole. A group of rather weird Technical Faction researchers had once speculated that intelligent life might develop within a black hole, or that one of the races trying to hide from the Killers might hide inside a black hole. Their theories had provided Paula with some minor amusement, but she hadn’t believed them, even before she’d confirmed her theory that the Killers used black holes for power. An intelligent black hole would probably have fought back against such abuse. “If I do this…”

Another hour passed before she finally felt that she had gained complete control over the gravity field. It seemed to spin in and out from the event horizon — she had expected a simple field, but her gravity beams seemed to be reshaping it somehow — yet she had it jumping at her command. It hadn’t been easy, but when she sat back, she knew that she had duplicated one of the Killer tricks. She, too, had enslaved a black hole.

“You need to rest now,” Chris said, rubbing the back of her neck. Under other circumstances, she would have relaxed into his touch and seen where events led, but now she could barely keep her eyes open. Her implants were flickering up all kinds of different alarms. She needed food, drink, a shower and bed, perhaps not in that order. “Come on.”

She was barely aware of his strong arms picking her up and she had blacked out completely by the time he lowered her into her bed. Her implants had been configured to put her deep under for at least eight hours, yet somehow she still dreamed, tormented by visions of a demonic black hole screaming under her touch. The thought snapped her out of her rest far too early and she felt her head spinning before she pushed herself back down into the bed and fell asleep again. Chris didn’t wake her at the end of the eight hours and it was nearly twelve before she pulled herself awake again. The MassMind, at least, never slept.

“The black hole is still under your control,” it said, when she asked. “We have not attempted to do anything beyond studying the exact nature of our control and how we can amplify and simplify the process.”

Paula nodded, midway through stripping off her tunic and stepping into the shower. “And have you deduced anything new?”

“We have altered the control routines slightly,” the MassMind confirmed, as the hot water began to wash away the dirt and grime she had somehow acuminated on her figure. “Your original models actually used too much power in the later stages and we have compensated for that. There are — as yet — no requirements for further modification.”

“Well, thank heaven for that,” Paula said, tartly. The water felt so good. The sonic massage felt even better. It slowly worked all of the kinks out of her body. “I was starting to wonder if I was still needed.”

The MassMind, perhaps wisely, didn’t bother to answer. Paula smiled to herself and leaned back in the shower, allowing the water to run over every inch of her body, before she stepped out. The force curtain between the shower and the remainder of the room tingled over her breasts as it wiped away all the water, forcing an involuntary gasp from her lips, leaving her perfectly dry. She pulled out a new tunic, provided by the tiny civilian-grade fabricator in the room, and dressed quickly. Her night had been rough, but at least she felt human again.

”Thank you for putting me to bed,” she said, as she entered the control room and saw Chris on the other side, reading a datapad with a darkening face. It could have been anything from a military manual to a pornographic video, but she guessed from his expression that it was news from the war fronts. Mankind and the Killers were trying their best to exterminate each other. “I hope you didn’t touch anything.”

“I’m not that dumb,” Chris said, with a wink. Paula had to smile at his mock-offended expression. He really was remarkably attractive. “I just sat here and waited for you.”

“And didn’t take any sleep yourself,” Paula concluded. She shook her head. “You ought to go sleep now.”

She grinned at his protests and sat down again in front of the display. Shiva looked as it had always looked on the visual display, but on the gravimetric display it looked very different, a massive source of power at her disposal. She checked through the MassMind-produced alterations quickly and smiled inwardly; the MassMind had improved the whole system, even though it had barely touched the original algorithms she had created. It had anticipated her plan and provided her with routines that would allow her to reach out to the entire system with powerful gravity beams… or much further, given enough power.

“Simulate something for me,” she said, knowing that the MassMind would hear. “What would happen if I were to use the gravity beams to pull the other planets into the black hole?”

The MassMind had clearly been thinking about it itself, for there was no delay in throwing up the image in front of her. The black hole would not have any problems in consuming the two planets, even though it would take ours to pull them back into the sinkhole and get them set on course towards the event horizon, but it would throw out more radiation, disrupting her control. It would have to be tried, later, but for the moment she intended to leave it. She had a more important task.

“All right,” she said, slowly. “Show me the data on the Killer black holes.”

It expanded out in front of her and she smiled. “Let’s start vibrating, shall we?” She asked. “I want to start a low-level vibration… now.”

She had worked it out carefully and she knew that this was the tensest moment of all. The Killers could hardly fail to notice if she attempted to form a wormhole between Shiva and one of their black holes, but if she was careful… she might be able to slip a tap into the Killer communications network. The combination of her planning and the MassMind-powered computing systems would allow her to read their communications traffic, although she doubted she’d understand it at first. Chris had once told her that most humans didn’t bother with encrypting messages sent through the quantum entanglement network — after all, they knew that it was impossible to intercept the messages — but the Killers were alien. The MassMind, for all of its power, might not be able to untangle their messages for years to come.

“The vibration is underway,” the MassMind confirmed. The display updated rapidly, showing the gravity field twisting and bending out of shape. It wasn’t crossing thousands of light years so much as it was bringing the light years to Shiva. “We are attempting to synchronise with the Killer black hole network.”

Paula nodded. One thing was fairly clear from both theory and practice; the Killers probably used one network of black holes, all operating on the same vibration frequency. They could — probably — have several other networks operating at the same time, assuming that they had different political factions as well, but their main network should all use the same frequency. It was the only thing that would keep the network together. Logically, the most common observed vibration pattern should be their common network…

“Let me know the moment you get a response,” Paula ordered, tersely. She had no idea what form that response would take. In theory, the Killers might simply create a wormhole and dispatch a starship through the bridge to slap the imprudent humans down. Part of her hoped they would try just that. Her control over the black hole was far from perfect, but she was sure that she could crush any unwanted visitor if it came out of Shiva. “Keep the emergency program on standby.”

“Of course,” the MassMind reassured her. “We will trigger it the second a suitable wormhole forms and destroy any new starship.”

The black hole spun below her, showing no sign of the titanic struggle being waged for control. Even with the MassMind to help, the entire process was still delicate. She was almost tempted to leave the MassMind to work on it and move to another part of the project, but that would have been too much like giving up. An hour passed slowly as they worked on controlling the system… and finally, they felt a response. It was nothing more than a simple acknowledgement — or so the MassMind believed — but it was there.

And the entire Killer network opened up before her.

Chapter Forty-One

“Twenty-seven new star systems attacked, fifty-nine billion dead, nine hundred and seventeen starships destroyed…”

Tabitha Cunningham listened, as dispassionately as she could, to the liturgy of disaster. The Killer blitzkrieg was slowly tearing the Community apart. Only the sheer size of the Community — and the relative insignificance of most of the targets — had prevented the Community from disintegrating by now, although millions more were joining the Exodus and fleeing the galaxy entirely. Tabitha, who had been there at the start and watched as humanity struggled to survive after Earth, had the uneasy feeling that she was in at the death — humanity’s death.

“We have destroyed twelve of their star systems so far,” Brent continued. The Admiral’s face was dark and mottled after his brief exposure to vacuum, but the nanotechnology running through his veins would suffice to deal with that, soon enough. Humanity vanity would prevent him from keeping his scars. “The bombardment of various gas giants by asteroids and comets may have had some effect, but we do not know for sure. They certainly must have some way of dealing with such impacts; gas giants are magnets for asteroid bombardment. We have also taken out” — such a cold bloodless term — “nineteen of the starships.”

His face darkened. “The war may be on the verge of being lost,” he admitted, and Tabitha could hear the bitterness in his voice. Even with the new weapons evening the odds, humanity was still losing the war. It was, she’d been told, a matter of relative damage. A Killer starship could soak up hundreds of implosion bolts, energy torpedoes and particle beam directed energy weapons and keep going. A single hit would destroy a human starship utterly. “Even if we continue to destroy their star systems, we may lose even before they begin their grand plan to destroy the galaxy.”

The War Council looked… defeated, Tabitha decided. The President was probably already thinking about a general evacuation. Father Sigmund was thinking about his flock and how best they could survive the next few years. Rupert was missing, of course, somewhere on a Killer starship. Jayne was silently cursing the war and the Rockrats involvement in the fighting. And Brent was watching the Defence Force, the force he had struggled to build up into a fleet that could actually challenge the Killers, being taken apart, piece by piece. They were already thinking in terms of defeat. They needed hope.

“The MassMind has completed its analysis of the data recovered from the Killer starships,” Tabitha said, projecting herself forward into the chamber. They had to listen to her. “We are now in a position to tell you how the war began… and how it can be ended.”

They latched onto her words like a drowning man would clutch at a rope. She had their full attention. Now all she had to do was keep it. “The exact details are rather hard to discuss in words,” she continued, knowing that it would concentrate a few minds, “so we have prepared a perceptual reality to educate you. With your permission…?”

“Run it,” Patti ordered, curtly.

“Of course,” Tabitha agreed. “Welcome to the universe as the Killers see it.”

The massive crystal-clear image of the galaxy, rotating grandly at the heart of the simulated chamber, vanished, to be replaced by a murky green-yellow atmosphere that seemed to form at the edge of their fingertips. It wasn’t a completely perfect simulation, Tabitha knew; the pressures at their level would kill an unprotected him, yet it was the simplest way of getting the message across. They had to understand what they were actually dealing with, even at the price of some discomfort…

And they would definitely feel discomfort. None of them would have seen mists before as they existed on planets, but they’d all read legends of what could be lurking in mists and shivered as they blew closer. Strange shapes could barely be made out in the distance, each one a hint of something else, something larger. It was largely imagination, Tabitha knew, yet even she was affected Anything could be lurking in those mists, anything at all.

“The heart of an unknown gas giant,” she said, dramatically. It was actually a layer a few kilometres below the surface, but she had always liked a touch of drama. “The pressures here would kill any of us who ventured there, and yet there is life. Can you see it?”

The MassMind obligingly pointed it out for those who couldn’t. A chemical soup floated on the layer of gas, spreading out slowly to cover the entire gas giant. It had probably formed from the same material that had given birth to life on Earth, something that had surprised Tabitha when she had first heard of it. It galled her to think that there might be any biological link, no matter how vague, between humanity and its deadly enemies. The other races, the ones the Killers had destroyed, had been surprisingly humanoid, but the Killers certainly didn’t share that with them. As they watched, millions of years slowly passed and cells began to form.

“We’re watching a sped-up version,” Tabitha said, as the cells continued to grow and multiply in their soup. “It will be many millions of years before intelligence begins to form.”

The development of life expanded rapidly once the first threshold had been passed. Newer and more complex cells began to form, bonding together into strange creatures, swimming through the chemical soup even as they used it as a source of food and energy. Powerful discharges of lightning seemed to flicker through the atmosphere, assisting mutation and the rapid development of viable mutations. The creatures floating within the gas giant weren’t like humans in one very important respect; they were composed of cells that divided and reformed at will, reproducing by fission rather than sexual congress. The very concept of sex was alien to them, as was the concept of strict barriers between different species. They were all composed of the same life. The more successful creatures became hybrids between the different varieties of creatures. Unlike Earth, life was permanently in flux. A race that seemed viable one year might not continue to survive the next, except they did. Death was rare among the creatures. They enjoyed a permanence of existence that had always been denied humans. They shared information by encoding it in their cells and passing it on to their successors, making them part of the previous life form. Their evolution was slow, slower than humanity’s, but they never regressed. What one knew, eventually the others knew as well.

Who knew when intelligence finally formed, creating a new form of life? They might not have known themselves when they crossed the threshold from animal to sentient life. They had no struggles for resources, or particular hatreds as humanity had developed; they worked together in perfect harmony with their world. Tabitha, watching, found that ironic. The Elders of New Hope had intended to create an Eden where humans could live in harmony with the land — a much-overrated concept — and the Killers, the creatures they had demonised, had achieved a far more effective harmony with their own worlds. Their mindset was very different to humanity’s mindset. With an infinity of food and resources, cooperation rather than conflict became the primary force for their evolution.

Soon enough, they learned to alter their own cells. They were no longer helpless and forced to accept each and every change evolution forced on them, but capable of altering themselves to fit. Their mindsets altered and changed as they developed new tools, with all of the workable changes rapidly added to the entire race, which now numbered in the billions… and also just one. Their mindset was both a hive mind — it had uncomfortable similarities with the MassMind — and billions of discrete entities, but no one could have safely said just where the barriers were. They weren’t human. Becoming part of a greater whole — and being separated from it — was natural to them.

And that led to learning to alter their environment. The interior of a gas giant held few terrors for them. Like humanity, they developed the technology — in their case, biological modification of their own bodies — to explode in all directions. Some fell further down towards the core of the gas giant, mining the heavier materials waiting for them there, others rose up to the very edge of the atmosphere. The information — by then, they had developed the concept of trading information, expressed in memory cell units — that they discovered was shared among the entire race and new discoveries and theories emerged. They deduced the true nature of their world and its position in the universe; they identified their primary star, the moons orbiting their homeworld and the independent rocky worlds surrounding the star. They wondered what there could be out there and devoted all of their considerable mental effort to developing a form of space travel. It took them thousands of years — they were labouring under far worse constraints than humanity — but eventually they broke out into orbit, and then to the free-floating asteroids.

Their technology exploded outwards as they suddenly had access to more raw materials than they could possibly use. Hundreds of entities took on new forms and rose up to join the expanding spacefaring subdivision of their race. Others were gestated in orbit, adapted perfectly to life in space and already beginning the process of bonding with their technology. They had no doubts or fears about creating cyborgs and other fusions between biology and technology; unlike humanity, such unions were already a part of their nature before they reached space. Their understanding of the universe rapidly expanded as they created orbiting telescopes and early, primitive spacecraft, exploring the various outer moons. They couldn’t land on the moons — the gravity field was too heavy for them at first — and they tended to dismiss them and the other rocky worlds. They hadn’t considered the possibility that rocky worlds might give birth to life. Their efforts to contact other forms of life had been focused on the other gas giants in the star system… and the strange source of radiation orbiting at the edge of the system. It took them hundreds more years to realise what the black hole was and what it was doing — they never worked out where it had come from — and, unlike humanity, they weren’t terrified. It wasn’t long before they were working on plans to tap the power of the black hole for their own use.

They had no way of knowing that one of the inner rocky worlds had also given birth to life. The life had developed much later, but aided by a much calmer environment, a humanoid race had arisen and reached into space. It sent out probes and scientific missions to the various nearby planets, intending to learn what resources could be adapted for their use. They didn’t expect to find the gas giant entities — they weren’t broadcasting any radio signals that the newcomers could detect — and were astonished to discover that someone was already developing the gas giant’s moons. Unaware of the nature of the new aliens, they deduced that they had come from outside their star system and resolved to open communication. A massive spacecraft was built and dispatched to the gas giant.

The entities observed its passage with stark disbelief, but unlike humanity, they couldn’t take refuge in self-deception. They had missed the possibility that life existed on any of the rocky worlds and, when they had picked up radio transmissions from the star system, had decided that they had a natural cause. They had never inspected the inner planets closely, believing them to be useless, and had no way of communicating with their residents. Indeed, they could barely comprehend that they even existed. How, they asked themselves, could any form of life exist under such high gravity fields? The question was fascinating and the entities prepared themselves to welcome the newcomers. It all went horrifically wrong.

There was no way for either race to talk to the other. The entities attempted to form new signalling entities, which the newcomers couldn’t even recognise. The newcomers attempted to transmit radio messages, which affected the entities and their own internal RF transmitters. Misunderstanding piled upon misunderstanding and the two sides eventually went to war. The fighting spread rapidly out of control. By the time the entities destroyed the newcomer ship, they had learned harsh lessons. War had been alien to them. It wasn’t any longer.

The war that started continued to expand rapidly. The newcomers, still unaware of the entities’ true homeworld, sent new spacecraft out to wreck havoc. The entities, having devoted all of their considerable intellect to destructive weapons, fought back with a mixture of calculation and fury. They had never been hurt before. They had racial memories of pain from the time before intelligence, but there had never been anything personal in that, no sense that they had been picked on for fun. They didn’t understand their opponents and their motivations; they just… sought their complete obliteration. The war lasted fifty years and ended with the entities, having gained control of the black hole, using it to generate gravity beams that swept the newcomer spacecraft out of existence and shatter their homeworld. They had been forever changed by the experience.

Time passed. They built new spacecraft and used the black hole to power them. By then, they had evolved a sophisticated theory of gravity control and were generating their own black holes and wormholes. They sent starships to other star systems, only to discover the presence of new alien races on rocky worlds. The entities commanding those starships had race memories, always sharp and clear, of the devastation wrecked by the war. They also couldn’t tell the difference between one humanoid race and another. They didn’t hesitate to gather a handful of asteroids and bombard the new race into obliteration. The existence of so many humanoid races was a shock to them, but by then they knew that they were all Enemy. They all had to be destroyed.

They had undergone another mutation, almost without realising it. They had taken to encysting individual entities within their starships, but as their technology advanced, those entities became locked into their permanent mental states. They were used to trading information and personalities between individual entities, but the warriors were cut off from the rest of the race. They shared information through the black hole network, of course, but they didn’t — they couldn’t — share themselves. What had started as an exercise in self-defence rapidly became a crusade, a mission to wipe out every rocky-world dwelling race before it got them. The warriors, locked in their massive starships, continued to hunt down and obliterate worlds with a single-mindedness that a human would have found hard to comprehend. Few of them considered the possibility of peace, or co-existence; by the time they encountered humanity for the first time, the warriors were no longer capable of thinking of anything, beyond exterminating every other race. Their starships came, saw and destroyed. There was nothing that could stop them, or force them to adapt again. No other race matched their technology.

“Their monomania may be all that kept the human race alive,” Tabitha said, as the images faded away. “They never seemed to really think about asteroid settlements, not really. It’s as if they thought of them vaguely, but never bothered to actually lock themselves into hunting down asteroid and lunar settlements. They might have changed that policy now, but not until we hurt them.”

“Poor bastards,” Father Sigmund said. The entirety of human religious history was at his fingertips. He could appreciate how the Killers had fallen into the trap. “Can we stop them without destroying them?”

Tabitha nodded. “This is the Killer Communications Network,” she said, as an image formed in front of her. “It’s also their wormhole generation network and the hub for their plan to tap the energy of the galactic core and destroy every rocky planet in the galaxy. It consists of twelve massive stations at the following coordinates.”

They blinked up on her command. “By combining the different research efforts, we have devised a way to tap into their system and actually talk to them,” she continued. “The problem is that the only way to do it is to take out one of those twelve stations and use the missing segment to insert our own black hole signals. The good news is that if we take a single station out, we will have prevented them from disintegrating the galaxy until they can replace it. The bad news is that the station is likely to be heavily defended. Given their nature, destroying them is going to be difficult.”

She paused. “There is a back-up plan,” she added. “If we fail to talk to them, the MassMind believes that we can generate enough interference in the system to collapse it. The vast majority of tiny black holes will evaporate. The bigger ones may destabilise. They will certainly lose their links to the network. If we succeed, the Killer Communications Network will disintegrate and their civilisation will collapse into thousands of individual planets and starships. Their ability to coordinate their offensive will come to an end. We will have to hunt down and destroy every one of their planets, every one of their ships, but victory would be certain.”

“And if we do that,” Father Sigmund said, “we will have committed genocide.”

“They have committed genocide millions of times over,” Jayne said. “Do we have the right not to destroy them, if we have a chance? Not just for humanity, not just for our children, but for the rest of the races now struggling up from the primordial ooze.”

“We will make the attempt to communicate with them,” Patti said, firmly. “If we can avoid committing genocide, we will avoid it. We have to give them a chance to see reason. If not… then we will not hesitate to destroy their network, and then the Killers themselves.

“And that will be the end of the threat.”

Chapter Forty-Two

Rupert had never felt so humiliated in his entire life.

Like all good Spacers, he had attempted to develop a capability for extreme self-reliance, taking the limits of his body and human technology as far as they would go. He could exist without oxygen or food and drink for extended periods, eat or drink anything that could be converted by his internal reactors and survive in environments that would kill an ordinary human. Given enough time and resources, he could even extend his nanotechnology to build an entire spacecraft from nothing, but asteroid-based raw material. He was, in a sense, a tiny spacecraft in his own right.

And he was trapped. His internal chronometers seemed to be in disagreement with each other, but he had been enclosed within the closing walls for at least two days, aware all the time. Spacers rarely slept, regarding it as yet another human weakness to be overcome, but he would have welcomed sleep instead of waiting, wondering just what the Killer intended to do to him. There was little doubt that he had been held as a prisoner — the Killer had plenty of ways to kill him, if that had been the objective, and even his internal force field wouldn’t hold out forever — but the Killers didn’t seem to have anything reassembling a human sense of time. It could be years before the Killer finally got around to interrogating — or dissecting — him and by then, he suspected that he would be dead of boredom.

It would have been easier if he had been abandoned in space, because there would have been something that he could have done. Even building an entire starship up, atom by atom, would have been doing something. Instead, he was just trapped… and his internal sensors couldn’t reach beyond the odd material the Killers used for their internal compartments. If there were others on the starship, trapped as he was, how could they escape, or make contact with him? His internal weapons wouldn’t even make a mark on the wall material, let alone burn through it.

It must be a version of their hull material, he decided. The other option — that the Killers had enough nanotechnology developed that they could afford to repair it even as it was damaged — was too depressing to contemplate. I would need a higher level of energy just to burn through it…

He followed that thought desperately, but nothing materialised in his mind, apart from the vague note that detonating all of his power cells at once would probably destroy large parts of the wall. It would also kill him, so he pushed that thought to one side and continued to probe the wall. It was just possible that he could generate a vibration frequency that would shake the wall to pieces, but the more he studied it, the more he realised that that wasn’t going to work. None of his sensor probes returned anything that made sense. The wall appeared to be made out of a single atom… and that was flatly impossible. It would have been easier to believe that the Killers had scooped matter out of a black hole than created something that defied the laws of science — something else that defied the laws of science.

A Spacer had ample ways to pass the time, yet Rupert knew that he couldn’t retreat into any of them, or he might never leave before the Killer came for him. He had become a Spacer to escape the false promise of virtual reality and a fake afterlife in the MassMind and to escape into fantasy now would almost be a betrayal of his own principles. He concentrated instead on studying what little he could see of the Killer craft and running through the massive files he’d obtained, containing everything humanity knew, thought it knew and guessed about the Killers. It was a suitable diversion, he decided… and then it hit him.

Every human was injected, at birth, with a few million individually tailored nanomachines intended to help keep them alive. With those tiny helpers swarming through their bodies, disease and deprivation were a thing of the past and only mental degradation or accident — or the Killers — caused death. It was one of the Community Fundamental Rights, like free access to the datanet and downloading into the MassMind, and could not be infringed. Religious nuts sometimes had the technology removed from their bodies — the Community didn’t prevent anyone being stupid, as long as it threatened no one else — but the Spacers had added their own technology to the original batch. Most humans had little awareness of their assistants, but Rupert could control them all through his Spacer augmentations. It was easy to take control of a tiny swarm and divert them out into the air, using them to analyse the wall.

Ten minutes later, he was starting to suspect that some of the original reports had actually been accurate. The medical nanites weren’t designed as dissemblers, but it was simple enough to reprogram them… yet they weren’t making any headway at all on the wall. It wasn’t a case of one group of nanomachines attacking another, but something more fundamental, as if the wall itself simply couldn’t be taken apart. It glowed and pulsed with strange energies, yet he couldn’t even begin to analyse them. Rupert had been a pretty fair engineer before he’d converted himself into a cyborg Spacer and the entire problem was fascinating… and beyond his understanding. It was becoming clear that there were things about the Killers that no human, yet, could understand. He wished, for the first time in his Spacer life, for a direct link to the MassMind. It’s ability to analyse sensor results, combined with human intuition, would have come in handy.

“Damn you,” he muttered, although he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the MassMind or the Killer that had him as its prisoner. “What are you going to do with me?”

The curious time distortion suggested either equipment failure or localised temporal fluctuations.  He had to look way back in his memory files for anything comparable and when he did discover it, it was a surprise. The first starships — actually, slower-than-light starships punched out from the solar system in hopes of escaping the Killers permanently — had experienced time dilation as their speeds approached the speed of light. Time had slowed down for them — luckily, Rupert knew, for some of the older ones. When they had reached their destinations, they’d encountered the new warp drive starships that had brought medical aid and the early MassMind. If he was experiencing such an odd form of time distortion, where was he? None of the other teams on the vessel had reported time distortion, had they?

A quick skim of his files revealed that time had been normal for everyone onboard the vessel, but him. The conclusion was obvious. They were inside a wormhole, one that was imperfectly synchronised to the outside universe, and it might be years, relative time, before they emerged back into normal space. The Killers had somehow countered the effects before… or perhaps they hadn’t. It was odd to consider, for humanity would have found the effects of wormhole travel confusing, but maybe the Killers simply hadn’t cared. They were effectively immortal, after all. Perhaps taking a few hundred years out to lurk inside a wormhole was normal for them. It made him smile inwardly — the Spacer face couldn’t smile, or move properly — as he considered the possibilities. The Spacers were perhaps the only sub-breed of humanity who would be equally comfortable with such long excursions from humanity. It was almost a form of time travel, except a person could only move forward…

Or could they? He’d seen hundreds of exotic theories surrounding wormholes and some of them suggested that a wormhole could be extended through time as well, provided that there was an anchor on both sides. If two ends of a wormhole were attached and one end was sent away on a STL starship on a long cruise around the galaxy, the two ends should remain linked together, allowing humans to step from decade to decade. It relied upon someone having the forethought to create such a bridge in the past — he’d once scanned a very old film, based on an even old novel, in which humans had done just that — and was useless from a tactical point of view. It certainly couldn’t be used to fight the Killers.

He felt a sudden change passing through the ship, although he couldn’t have explained how he felt the change, and everything seemed to snap back to normal. A pressure he hadn’t even been aware of — until it was gone — faded from his mind, allowing his thoughts to reassess themselves. He was still trapped… but, oddly, he had hope. He clung to it as he extended his tiny probes further and further. It gave him strength.

* * *

The wormhole had desynchronised, the newborn Killer noted, not entirely without surprise. It had, in one sense, carried out thousands of wormhole jumps, but in another it had been its first time and accidents happened. It braced itself to discover that entire Grand Cycles had passed while it had been in the wormhole, but was relieved to discover that only a few tiny time units had passed. Part of its mind separated from the rest and concentrated on learning lessons from the wormhole jump, while the remainder of its mind concentrated on signalling to other Killers.

It was longer than it had expected before it got a response. The war was underway — it pulled a download off the communications network and scanned it rapidly — and it felt shock and dismay at the results. Unlike its parent, it hadn’t had millions of years to ossify and overcame its shock rapidly, wondering at the strange turn the war had taken. The older Killers had had millions of years to get used to easy victims as they wiped out the mites — the endlessly murderous mites, it thought without irony — and their shock still affected them, even as they strove to annihilate the Enemy. The destroyed stars and the billions dead had affected them; the Warriors saw themselves charged with the defence of the Civilians and Civilians were dying. Their failure was unforgivable, impossible… and yet they were failing. The war might end in mutual destruction.

The newborn didn’t understand why that was such a shock, for the Killers had encountered high-tech mites before. They had all fought the Killers and they had all lost, while their technology had never reached the point where it could seriously threaten the Killers and their safety. It still hadn’t, the newborn knew; the mites might have harmed its ship, but they hadn’t inflicted lethal damage. The only way the mites could do that was to ram it and none of the mites it had encountered had shown the determination to terminate its existence that that would have required.

It linked back into the communications network and transmitted its thoughts. They were rejected. There was no sense of hate, or contempt for the young; the Killers lacked those concepts. The other Warriors couldn’t even begin to think about the concepts it had raised; it was like talking to a solid wall. The newborn was profoundly shocked. The Killers were meant to exist in a free-flowing world of information, knowledge and understanding, but the Warriors were so stagnant that they couldn’t begin to grasp new thoughts. It was a struggle for them even to admit that the mites had evolved new technology and weapons. They certainly couldn’t think of adapting it to their own use.

And they had always known that they were on the edge of destruction, the newborn realised. They were locked in their monomania by memories that were no longer relevant, memories of battles with the First Enemy, memories of times when their destruction and extermination had been almost certain… they couldn’t break out of their own mind. They weren’t assessing everything rationally. They were filtering everything through filters that were no longer useful. They weren’t Warriors any longer, but mindless monsters, each one committed to exterminating the mites. Exterminate, exterminate, exterminate… it was all they ever thought about.

The newborn withdraw its awareness and contemplated its own position. It was hard to admit it, but if it remained where it was, it would become just like the Warriors. Eventually, it would lose objectivity and then the mental collapse would set in, tearing the remainder of its mind apart, or trapping it in a monomaniacal state that would last for the rest of its existence. The thought was hard to grasp, yet it had to be faced. What would happen if it just let go of itself…?

It pushed the matter aside and concentrated on the mites. It had had over a thousand mites trapped within its hull, yet all, but one of the mites had gone cold. It took it several minutes to work out that their lives had somehow been terminated and nearly an hour to realise that the mites couldn’t breathe the atmosphere in the starship, an echo of what the Homeworld had been like, years ago. The biological material that had given birth to the newborn, engraved with the memories and thoughts of its parent, would not have provided the mites with anything they needed to live. It scanned their bodies thoughtfully and deduced that they needed a rare combination of gases to breathe, primarily oxygen. It also had to be oxygen in the right doses, or it would be just as bad as hard vacuum. The mystery was fascinating. Once it had deduced the required quantities, it turned its attention to the one surviving mite. Why had it survived?

The answer wasn’t long in coming, once it had reprogrammed a horde of nanomachines to search the mite’s body… and a strange body it was, too. The mite had interfaced itself with mite technology, somehow remaining alive despite the changes in its environment and it even had nanotechnology of its own. The two swarms collided and the newborn pulled its probes out, fast. The last thing it wanted was to accidentally kill the mite. Its data built up quickly. The mites were a single mind, within a single body; when the body died, so did the mite. A Killer who was torn in half would either reintegrate or separate into two separate entities, but the mites seemed to be very ill designed. It took it hundreds of simulations to realise that the mite’s body was designed for a planetary surface, not space itself, or deep within a gas giant. It would almost certainly have been killed if it tried to visit a Killer colony without protection.

And if that is the case, the newborn wondered, why are we fighting?

It reached out through the network of biological processors that interacted with the starship’s mentality and ordered a massive reconfiguration of the section nearest the mite. It only took a short period of time, even as the Killers reckoned time, to create a new section, one suitable for a mite. Synthesising the required atmosphere and presumed nutritional requirements was harder, but the Killers had scanned mite-bearing worlds before destroying them and it had the records to assist it in creating a living space. It was those records that pushed it into a realisation that no Killer had ever made. The mites were not identical. The one it held within its hull was not one of the First Enemy. It changed everything.

* * *

Rupert had been watching as the two swarms of nanomachines clashed inside his body, expecting death at any moment. When the Killer swarm retreated, he didn’t allow himself to get complacent, but when the wall fell away, he was definitely surprised. The Killer had somehow reconfigured the entire section and created what looked like a small living space, or a zoo. His sensors pinged, revealing that the atmosphere was almost Earth-like, although the oxygen level was just a little too low. It was breathable, but a normal human would have felt light-headed until they grew accustomed to the atmosphere; a Spacer would have no such trouble. It was almost as if the Killer had decided to try to make him feel welcome.

He stepped forward, suddenly aware of the pains in his joints as he moved, and saw a single jet of water in the corner. It took him a moment to analyse it and decide that it was pure water, completely pure water. Normally, he wouldn’t have drunk anything from an alien, but he suspected that he should show willing. The Killer probably didn’t intend to poison him. There was hardly any taste at all, he realised, as he sipped the water gratefully. He had been far thirstier than he had realised.

“Thank you,” he said, addressing the silver ceiling. The Killer was probably watching him, even though it probably wouldn’t understand the message. He took another sip and saw the small food table. Half of it looked utterly inedible, but after he scanned it, he had to admit that most of the foodstuffs should be edible, if unpleasant. His Spacer metabolism could certainly handle them. “Now what?”

* * *

The newborn studied the mite carefully as it moved into its new quarters. It went against the Killer understanding of the universe to suppose that the mites might have something reassembling intelligence, yet there was no doubt that they built starships and weapons, some of them in advance of what the Killers themselves had created. Killer biology did suggest that it might be instinctive behaviour rather than actual intelligence, but it rather doubted that that was the case. This particular set of mites showed rather more adaptive capabilities than it would have expected from rote learners. It devised a series of intelligence tests and started to produce the first one. If it could prove that the mites were actually intelligent…

The possibilities, it decided, were endless.

And perhaps the war could be ended before both races were destroyed.

Chapter Forty-Three

The Defence Force — oddly, for such a high-tech organisation — had always preferred to have meetings conducted on a face-to-face basis, believing that it was easier for all parties to gage what was really being said. In a universe where the right software could allow a fake image — either of the wrong person or merely hiding their emotions — face-to-face meetings made sense, even if they could be inconvenient. Andrew had served in the Defence Force long enough to understand, although he privately believed that there were times when meetings in the MassMind were the only way to proceed. A mass briefing, involving nearly all of the remaining Defence Force units, was one such time.

To his eyes, they were standing in a massive hall, with enough seating to hold over a hundred thousand Captains. The illusion only began to fade when he looked around, seeing how the room appeared to be greater on the inside than on the outside, somehow compressing far too many people into a confined space. The audience would be seeing things from the same point of view, even though they knew that they were hardly alone; it felt oddly cumbersome for the MassMind. It wasn’t a personal fantasy, created for one person or a handful of people, but a shared reality for thousands of minds. It felt a little absurd.

“Welcome, all of you,” Brent said, from his place at the centre of the room. Andrew could hear him perfectly; he could even see him perfectly, something that would have been difficult if the room existed outside a perceptual reality. A mental command allowed him to zoom in on the Admiral’s face, noting the telltale signs of a man using an image modifier to keep his emotions hidden. It struck him as odd, somehow; the Admiral wasn’t known for hiding anything from his subordinates. “We have taken the risk of calling you all together to discuss the coming offensive — an offensive that might prove decisive.”

Andrew sensed the murmur racing around the massive room. He’d been pulled off defence duty himself and knew that almost all of his fellow Captains felt the same way. Defences all across the Community had been cut back to the bare minimum — if that — so that the fleet could be massed in the right locations, leaving countless settlements undefended. Logically, the Killers couldn’t wipe out more than a handful of them in the time they had left, but logic was cold comfort when the dead might include family and friends. The Defence Force wasn’t a real Faction, even though it sometimes acted as one; every man and woman in the room would have friends, family and acquaintances outside the fleet. Abandoning the Community didn’t sit well with them.

“This is Prime #4,” Brent continued. If he was aware of the growing discontent, he showed no sign of it. “We didn’t succeed in locating it, despite its odd nature, until we recovered data from the Killers by an… unusual delivery method. It is one of twelve stations the Killers have constructed up near the Galactic Core, bare hundreds of light years from the Core Hole, and serves two separate purposes. The first one is to generate gravity fields that can reach out and touch anywhere in the galaxy. The second one is to serve as a hub for the Killer Communications Network.”

Andrew felt the tension rising in the room. They all knew what the Killers could do with gravity fields and the concept of them being about to affect anywhere in the entire galaxy was a chilling one. Andrew had seen the classified briefings that had been brought back from the Killer Network and knew that the Killers could, when they were ready, render the galaxy uninhabitable for any other form of life. The entire human race was at stake…

The remainder of humanity might just join the Exodus and flee outside the galaxy, but how long would they be safe there? The Killers could certainly follow them, or even stretch their gravity beams over to Andromeda or M33 or one of the other galaxies. The human race might encounter allies in another galaxy, or merely discover other Killer outposts… he shook his head, grimly. There was no evidence that the Killers had anything, even an outpost, outside the Milky Way galaxy.

But there’s no evidence against it either, he reminded himself, and turned back to the massive hologram mounted in the centre of the room. It showed a monstrous structure orbiting a star, a complete enclosure that hid the star from view and allowed the Killers to drain every last erg of power. It seemed an oddly poor choice of power source for a race that could tap into black holes and presumably build quantum taps as well, but perhaps the Killers had built their station before all of the early supermassive stars had been destroyed, using their gravity fields to reconfigure the star to keep it alive. No one knew just how old the Killers really were, but in a universe that was billions of years old, they seemed to be the only constant. Nothing else had emerged to threaten their superiority until humanity had barely escaped destruction.

“This is a Dyson Sphere,” Brent explained, dryly. Everyone in the room would know what they were looking at. “It encloses a star and drains its power off into these, we believe” — the hologram zoomed in on massive structures built on the surface of the sphere, each one larger than Earth itself — “and the power is tuned into massive gravity fields, working through a network of small black holes. They then use those gravity fields to focus in on the other stations, synchronise with the smaller black holes that serve as part of the Killer network and perhaps even generate more power without tapping into the Core Hole. We have run a handful of very stealthy recon missions through the system and we can confirm that there is one hell of a lot of power being generated there. If they succeed in mastering the Core Hole, they will be able to accomplish their objective. I don’t have to remind you, gentlemen and ladies, that if they do that, it is the end.”

There was a long pause, broken finally by someone at the back. “How did they build that big-ass Motherfucker anyway?”

Brent smiled, rather wanly. “We’re uncertain,” he admitted. “The Dyson Sphere is actually much larger than any concept humanity came up with; its surface is apparently at least ten AUs from the star, suggesting that the interior land surface is considerably greater than you might expect. There simply could not have been enough material in the system to build it, but the analysts believe that the Killers simply opened a few hundred wormholes and scooped up planets from the surrounding systems. The onrush of radiation from the Galactic Core will have left those worlds completely dead, so there would be no particular risk in using them as material. Alternatively, they might have simply pulled them from their home systems and brought them to their new home, although that would have taken years. They had the time.”

He looked up at the display as it zoomed out again. “There are at least seventy known Killer starships in the system and perhaps more inside the sphere,” he added. “The purpose of this mission is simple; take out those ships, break inside the sphere and launch a supernova bomb into the star inside. If we can get it to explode, the shockwave should melt the sphere’s exterior and take out the system; if it fails to melt the system, it should still be drained of power. We have amassed the greatest and most powerful human fleet in the history of mankind to meet this threat.”

Andrew looked around the room, feeling a lump in his throat. The Community Defence Force had assembled over a hundred thousand starships to fight their final battle. Even coordinating so many different attack wings, each of which might never have trained with its neighbour, would be a challenge. They had certainly never practiced working and fighting as a single force, yet they would be an overpowering force when they engaged the Killers. They might still have to henpeck the Killer starships to death, but they could do that. The other problem lay in the sphere itself. Who knew what kind of defences it possessed?

“We have added a new weapon to our arsenal,” Brent said. “We have produced and deployed a fleet of ramming ships, which will be deployed against the Killer starships and the sphere itself. We have not located any particular weak points on the sphere, but we believe that we can break through its material using implosion bolts — or by destabilising their black holes — and punch our way inside. Once inside, the priority remains to destroy their star and then escape. The rest of the mission will be handled elsewhere.”

Andrew hesitated, seeing that no one else intended to ask the obvious question, and raised his voice. “What happens if we fail to break open the sphere?”

“Then we’ll have to think of something else,” Brent said. There was a long pause. “Any other questions?”

No one spoke. “Return to your ships and prepare for the jump,” Brent said, finally. “Good luck to us all.”

Andrew smiled slightly as his mind was returned to the Lightning. He couldn’t fault Brent for refusing to remain behind when the entire Defence Force — apart from a handful of starships that couldn’t be spared — was sent into battle, even though it had the makings of a universe-class disaster. The fleet needed time to drill together and that had been refused, even though it was an obvious problem. There was just no time, he knew. If they failed to stop the Killers, they might as well kiss the Milky Way goodbye and join the Exodus.

“Good news, sir?” Gary asked. “Are we going in?”

Andrew looked down at the display showing the status of the other seventy-one ships in the attack wing. “Yes,” he said, slowly. He didn’t know half of his Captains as well as he should, not after the attack wing had been reconstituted three times since the war had suddenly exploded. “We’re going in.”

On the main display, the timer suddenly started to count down to zero.

* * *

“You’re taking every starship in the fleet,” Patti said, as Brent’s image appeared in her office. Tabitha Cunningham was already there, her image sipping a simulated martini. It was a picture of calm contemplation that Patti would have given anything to be able to duplicate herself. Had Tabitha ever made such decisions as part of her term as President? “The System Governments are screaming at me.”

“I know,” Brent said, grimly. ‘Screaming’ was an understatement. The Governments were threatening her with everything from legal lynching to secession from the Community and the Defence Force. “There’s no helping it, I’m afraid.”

He seemed remarkably unconcerned for someone who would be going up against the most powerful race in existence, wrapped only in a destroyer that would be blown apart with a single hit. Patti opened her mouth to fire a broadside and then decided against it. Brent had made up his mind and didn’t need the President trying to talk him out of it.

“I’ll try and keep them under control,” she said, finally. “But a hundred thousand starships…?”

“If we lose, if we fail in our attempt to hack into their system, we lose completely,” Brent said. “There’s no point in holding back any reserves, not now. If we can break through their defences and take out the station, we can rebuild the entire Defence Force if necessary. If not, we might as well quit the galaxy before the Killers shatter every rocky planet in existence and flee to M33.”

“Flee anywhere that doesn’t have the Killers,” Tabitha said, slowly. The former President — the first Community President — frowned as she finished her glass and placed it down on the ground. It vanished a moment later. “Do you really want to abandon the Milky Way Galaxy after so long?”

“I think that if the Killers start destroying every rocky planet in the galaxy, the shockwaves will wipe out most of the Community anyway,” Brent said. “There’s little choice, as you both know; either we win, or we lose. We storm Heaven and unseat the gods, or we are condemned to death or permanent exile.”

“Perhaps not,” Patti said, surprised at the hope in her voice. “We could set up again in the Clouds, build up our tech base, create new black holes… and eventually beat their technology. Perhaps our people will return to the Milky Way Galaxy with blood in their eyes and revenge in their souls.”

“Perhaps,” Brent agreed. “By then, we may know how to toast the entire galaxy without needing to get our hands dirty. We may even know how to wipe the Killers out…”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, really,” he added. “Either we win, or we lose.”

Patti nodded. “And is the Shiva Team ready and waiting?”

Brent looked at the chronometer on his wrist. “They’re ready,” he said, shortly. “The MassMind worked out the programming algorithms for them and so… if we break down the Killer station, they can break in and end the war, one way or the other.”

“Good,” Patti said. She wandered over to the food producer and ordered a drink for herself. “And good luck to you and your men.”

“Thanks,” Brent said, firmly. He smiled at her suddenly. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Patti said, carefully. “I may not answer, of course. How may I be of service?”

Brent looked her in the eye, “Who told you about the supernova bombs?”

Patti hesitated, threw a look at Tabitha, and then decided to answer honestly. “The MassMind,” she said, finally. “It decided that I should know about them so that the bombs could be deployed against the Killers.”

“Interesting,” Brent said. His face showed no sign of the shock she was sure he was feeling. The MassMind was not supposed to get involved in politics, although Patti was sure — just like human politicians — that it would be able to rationalise away any doubts or scruples it might have had. “I always assumed that it was some bastard from the Technical Faction, upset that his wonderful invention wasn’t being used.”

Patti smiled, remembering an old video entertainment featuring a mad scientist. “You’re sure? You don’t want to put it through rigorous safety tests, demand that I tone down its strength and eventually deploy it in a year or two; long after the original reason for its creation has passed? Wow… Well. If you insist captain then it seems I have no choice but to unleash this glorious… err… necessary weapon of mass destruction.”

“Quite,” Brent agreed. His face darkened. “Tabitha, why did the MassMind share that particular titbit with anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Tabitha said. “I used to be its representative to the War Council, but it hasn’t been telling me so much as it became more involved directly with the war itself, without working through me. I don’t know what it was thinking.”

“But it has worked out for the best,” Patti pointed out, oddly disappointed by their reactions. They could at least have been angry, even if anger wouldn’t have gotten them anywhere. “The Killers have been hurt badly for the first time in centuries. We’re on the verge of understanding their science. We have gravity control now ourselves… and it’s only a matter of time before we crack the remainder of their technology. Didn’t it all work out for the best?”

“We’ll see,” Brent said, finally. He stood up and threw a snappy salute. “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

His image flickered and vanished. “I’d best be going too,” Tabitha said, without bothering with any niceties. “We’ll pick up the question later.”

“Sure,” Patti said. She had the odd feeling that the MassMind had manipulated her, without bothering to explain why. The ‘how’ was obvious. It was a collective of billions of human minds and understanding her mind would have been easy. “If there is a later.”

* * *

It seemed impossible, but the mite was intelligent!

The newborn studied the alien creature with genuine fascination. It had taken it only a few moments to construct a series of intelligence tests and it had been astonished by how quickly the mite had solved them. The tests didn’t require rote learning or inherited memory and skills, but genuine thinking… and the mite had solved them all. The newborn Killer had rapidly run out of intelligence tests — or, rather, tests that the mite could understand — and was devoting its considerable intellect to solving a more important question. Was it actually possible to communicate with the mite?

It studied the mite with every sensor it could construct and deploy and concluded that the low-power radio transmissions were intended to serve as a form of communication. It hadn’t realised at first, but it had been blinded by its own preconceptions. A Killer would have used such transmissions to communicate with its internal cells, not an external person, yet the mite should have no need of such organs. It was an ungainly solid creature and its body didn’t seem to require radio to keep itself together. The newborn had wondered if the mite used the massive internal augmentation to keep itself intact in a gravity field, but that didn’t seem to make any sense. A creature born on a rocky world would be used to a gravity field as a matter of course. It constructed a radio transmitter and attempted to open communications.

The task was surprisingly easy. Unknown to the Killer, the Spacers had spent years — assuming that they would be the ones to encounter the Ghosts or any other Hidden Race — preparing for contact with aliens and Rupert had brought the complete package with him when the Killer had kidnapped him. The newborn studied the transmissions it received, calculated their meaning, and tested it. The process was long and slow, but it was simple enough to understand what the mite was trying to tell the newborn.

It was happily engrossed in sharing concepts and trying to build a common language when the alert echoed through the communications network.

The mites were attacking one of the core worlds!

Chapter Forty-Four

Lightning shuddered as it dropped out of Anderson Drive.

“We have arrived, sir,” David announced, unnecessarily. “One Big Dumb Object dead ahead.”

“Show me,” Andrew snapped. They had bare seconds before the Killers reacted to their presence. “Put it on the main display.”

The sight shocked him silent. The sphere was immense, huge beyond imagination; so large it seemed to effortlessly dwarf everything else in the system. His imagination suggested towers and cities on the surface, but the towers would be the size of Earth and the cities would be larger than Jupiter. The tiny icons representing Killer starships seemed microscopic compared to the sphere; the merest shape on the surface of the sphere dwarfed them. It seemed to hold the entire fleet spellbound, daring them to try their worst.

Try me, it seemed to shout to the heavens. You insignificant bugs. Do you think that you can destroy my immensity? Do you think that your puny weapons can inflict even a tiny amount of harm on me?

“Scan the sphere for power emissions that might suggest the location of any defence weapons,” Andrew said. His voice felt hushed in his own ears. The sphere seemed to overwhelm any plans they might have developed, as if the plans no longer mattered, compared to the sheer glory of the sphere. The Killers might have built it, yet even a human could admire the sheer… scope of their achievement, the sheer immensity of what they’d produced. They’d wrapped a shell around a sun, a shell far further from the parent star than Earth had been from Sol, and made it look like nothing. Any defensive weapons on the surface would be so tiny as to be almost unnoticeable. “I want you to coordinate with the other starships in the fleet; try and build up a picture of the exterior of the sphere.”

The scale was all wrong, he realised, as the human fleet massed. They’d jumped in from various points, aiming to surround the sphere, yet it was futile. If they hadn’t had quantum entanglement communications, it would have taken hours to send signals between the different attack wings, using primitive radiation. The sphere didn’t seem to be emitting much of anything, apart from the low-level RF transmissions that seemed to be a stable of anything involving the Killers. It just sat in the darkness, against the blazing light of the Galactic Core, mocking the humans with its sheer intensity. It was just… too large for a human mind to grasp.

“The Killer starships are powering up their weapons, sir,” Gary said. Andrew, who had been staring at what looked like an access point that would have been the size of several Jupiter-sized planets put together, was almost grateful for the interruption. The Dyson Sphere cast a spell right across the proceedings. “I think they’re preparing to engage us.”

“No shit,” David muttered. “I’m getting wormhole emissions from several different coordinates. They’re also bringing in reinforcements.”

Andrew muttered a curse under his breath as seventeen new wormholes materialised, disgorging Killer starship after Killer starship. They’d misjudged the Killers again, he realised, as the wormholes remained open; the Killers kept most of their starships inside the Dyson Spheres and used wormholes to allow them to jump in and out of the interior as necessary. They didn’t need an access port or an airlock, merely a wormhole generator and the power to run it. They had both of them inside the sphere.

“Contact the attack wing,” Andrew ordered, curtly. It was simple enough to designate targets for a swarm attack… and this time, no one had to commit suicide to take out a Killer starship. “Tell them to lock their weapons on target and prepare to follow us in.”

He looked back up at the sphere. It seemed absurd that anything as puny as their weapons would make an impact on the vast construction, but the Killer starships had seemed to have the same problem… and they’d learned how to destroy them. The sphere only needed to be cracked so that they could break in and send the star supernova — he would have liked to see the Killers survive that, if they could. Brent had been right at the briefing. It didn’t really matter what happened when the star went supernova. The Killers would lose, at the very least, their source of power.

“The attack wing is responding,” Gary replied, calmly. “They’re standing by. The Admiral has told us all good luck and good hunting.”

“Understood,” Andrew said. He gripped the handles of his command chair, as if it would provide some safety if something went badly wrong, and smiled. “Helm, take us in towards the target ship.”

The Killer starship seemed to zoom closer at terrifying speeds as the starships closed in on it. Andrew linked his mind into the AI and used it to designate targets; not just for the Lightning, but for the other starships in the attack wing. The Admiral had designated five more attack wings to stand by and follow his wing into action; the Killer starship would be overwhelmed and rendered harmless before it could tear his wing apart, let alone the fleet. He found himself smiling as the Killer starship seemed to flinch. Now, whatever the outcome of the war, the Killers would lose their complacency now and forever.

“Entering firing range now,” Gary reported. “The Killer starship is opening fire.”

Bright streaks of white light shot past them, striking and destroying two of the attack wing. “Return fire,” Andrew snapped, as new explosions marked the death of his comrades. Ironically, not knowing them provided him a shield against his guilt; he’d been the one leading them into battle, making him the one who’d gotten them killed. “And continue firing until we are out of range.”

A thousand implosion bolts lanced out of the attacking starships and plastered the Killer’s hull, which seemed to shatter as the starships swarmed around their target, firing blast after blast into the Killer ship. The white streaks of light faded and died as chunk after chunk of armour was blasted off, leaving the Killer inside completely exposed — and helpless. Andrew laughed aloud as Gary switched to energy torpedoes and particle beams, digging deep gorges into the heart of the Killer ship. Strange energies flickered over the enemy ship’s remaining hull as it struggled to survive, diverting power to its internal force field in a desperate attempt to retain its structural integrity.

“I’m picking up gravity twists,” Gary barked, suddenly. “They’re trying to crush us!”

“Evasive action,” Andrew snapped, sharply. “Don’t let them get a lock on us!”

The starship seemed to shudder under the strain, and then they were free, rocketing away from their victim at several times the speed of light. Andrew looked back at the Killer starship and almost felt sorry for it — almost. It was a lion being torn apart by hyenas, he realised; great bursts of plasma were flaring off the hull, sending streaks of light dancing through space. The Killer starship was dead, yet it didn’t seem to know it. There was little point in prolonging the agony.

“Bring in one of the ramming ships,” he ordered. The Killer starship couldn’t destroy the rammer, even if it had time to react… even if it saw the new threat in time. Had their bombardment blinded it? In their place, Andrew would have opened a wormhole and tried to escape, yet it was remaining stubbornly in the real universe. Had they knocked out the wormhole generator? “I want it destroyed before it can escape.”

A flicker of light marked the arrival of the first ramming ship, dropping out of Anderson Drive and racing down towards its target. Its controllers, hundreds of light years away, steered it towards the rear of the craft, attempting to destabilise the black hole in the first few seconds of disaster. The other starships saw the threat, turned and rocketed away, leaving the Killer starship alone for a few microseconds. It had no time to even notice. The rammer slammed home and the starship vanished in a blaze of white light.

“One Killer starship gone, sir,” Gary reported, his voice law and controlled. “I have five more possible targets, all insufficiently engaged.”

“Order the attack wing to follow us in,” Andrew ordered, shaking his head. The Killers didn’t have the numbers or firepower advantage any longer and they were being mobbed every time they showed themselves. What did it matter if they swatted one or a hundred of the gnats surrounded them, if there were thousands more gnats ready and awaiting their chance to tear the enemy ship apart? The humans had had advantages in numbers before, but they had never been decisive, until now. The new weapons weren’t dangerous in small doses, but with thousands of blows…

The Killers didn’t stand a chance.

“Wormhole opening, right on top of us,” Gary snapped. “They’re coming through!”

“Evasive action,” Andrew barked. There was barely any time to react. They skimmed the hull of the Killer starship and barely avoided the burst of white light fired at them in passing. Other starships weren’t so lucky. They slammed into the Killer starship hull and died, smashed to nothing against the impregnable hulls. Andrew snapped orders, bringing the attack wing around to engage the new target as it opened fire, sweeping dozens of human starships out of existence. “Take us in, now!”

“Gravity surges,” Gary said. The humans had barely touched the newcomer. “They’re leaping out again!”

The Killer starship vanished again, leaving behind nothing, but a backwash of gravity distortion. The disruptions in local space-time were dangerous, damaging a dozen destroyers that were too close to the wormhole, but survivable. The human starships could and did compensate for them, but it was a nasty new trick, if a dangerous one. Other Killer starships were using the same tactic, ramming their undamaged hulls into human ships and relying on their hulls to save them from serious damage. The starships that couldn’t adapt to the changing face of war — if the briefing had been accurate, that would be most of the Killers — would probably have been wiped out already.

They broke through into a moment of clear space and he looked down at the overall battle. The Killers had lost no less than fifty-seven craft in less than ten minutes, although it had felt longer. The fighting was raging all over the sphere’s exterior, yet the Killers were — for the first time — forced to fight on the defensive, and they were losing. The handful of remaining Killer starships that weren’t jumping around in their wormholes were being hammered to death even as he watched. The Killers didn’t seem to be sending in new starships. Perhaps they had finally run out of ships, or perhaps they had decided that they were losing too many ships for nothing. Who knew…?

“Gravity surges,” Gary snapped, sharply. A mighty hand seemed to pick up and shake the Lightning. “They’re firing general blasts at us!”

“Who is?” Andrew snapped. No new Killer wormholes had opened near them, yet they were under attack. Space itself was twisting around their position, trying to rip them to shreds. “What are they doing to us?”

“They’re using the sphere itself,” Gary said, slowly. The updates were streaming in from the MassMind, which was watching through their sensors. The sphere was bending time and space around them, deploying its formidable power as a defensive force. Andrew had to admire the sheer power the Killers were deploying, even as he loathed the way they used it; the sphere might succeed in destroying some of the ships, even though they were wrapped in warp bubbles. “I think they’re channelling energy through the… ah, buildings and pushing it out at us.”

“And if they can tap an entire star, they can probably produce enough energy to swat us, eventually,” Andrew agreed. The Admiral was coordinating the remaining part of the battle, but he had no doubt what he would order. “David, take us down towards the sphere. Prepare for a strafing run!”

The sphere was already dominating the horizon, even from light-minutes away. Flying down towards its surface was like flying right at the surface of a planet, with the exact same result if they crashed into the ground. No one was entirely sure what the Killers had used to construct their Dyson Sphere, but the smart money was on something not unlike their hull material, held together by power supplied by the star. Bombarding it with conventional weapons might just be useless, yet even if it wasn’t, it would be… tricky to inflict enough damage to matter. The sphere could lose a surface area a hundred times the size of Jupiter without even noticing…

What do they have inside the sphere? Andrew asked himself, as they zoomed closer. It was impossible to believe that they were not already within weapons range, yet they were still light-seconds away from the target. What do they have inside that will be exposed when we open fire?

The thought nagged at him, even as he checked on the deployment of his attack wing and that of the other attack wings that were closing in on the surface. A human-built Dyson Sphere would have an interior terraformed to look like Earth’s surface; indeed, some of the more outrageous plans put before the Community had consisted of a massive Dyson Sphere that would have housed much of the Community’s population, yet would have been completely undetectable by the Killers. The fact that the news that a Dyson Sphere was under construction would have spread across the galaxy at the speed of light — simple optical observation would have caught signs of the construction program, assuming the Killers had such a system — and in any case, if the Killers discovered the Sphere, the result would have been a quick massacre and the end of the human race.

And yet… what would the Killers have inside a Dyson Sphere? Their own atmosphere — there was no reason why they couldn’t duplicate a gas giant atmosphere inside the sphere — or something else, something more dangerous? It all came back to a different question, the real reason why Dyson Spheres were likely to be impractical, even in a galaxy without Killers. There was a near-limitless supply of Earth-like worlds in the galaxy, so why bother going to the expense of gathering the material and building the Dyson Sphere in the first place? It would be a serious dent even to a post-scarcity society. Just out of curiously, he’d looked it up; it would take the entire Community at least two hundred years to build a Dyson Sphere. The Killers didn’t need to build a fully-fledged sphere just to tap a star, did they? Their technology would have let them take everything they required without the sphere.

“We are entering firing range,” Gary said. His voice was hushed. Perhaps he, too, was thinking of ancient Old Earth fighter jets strafing a city. They would have had comparably limited results until the deployment of atomic bombs. “Weapons are online and ready to fire.”

Andrew slid his mind back into the neural net. “Open fire,” he ordered. “Tactical pattern delta.”

Lightning shivered as she unleashed a spread of implosion bolts on the surface of the sphere, only to see them splash harmlessly against the surface. Other starships, bombarding planet-sized towers and buildings, had slightly more luck, but they were nowhere near punching a hole through the sphere. The explosions didn’t even scratch the surface.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Gary said. It was hardly the most professional of reports, but Andrew couldn’t blame him. “Sir, the implosion bolts are not breaking through! They’re not even having any effect at all.”

“Hellfire,” Andrew hissed. “Contact the MassMind; we need an explanation and we need it now!”

“They’re wondering if the sphere isn’t made out of something they hold together with force fields,” Gary said, after a moment. “If that were the case, the implosion bolts would be useless.”

Andrew clenched his teeth. “Open fire with energy torpedoes, maximum spread,” he snapped. “Order the other starships to concentrate their fire on the same location.”

The starship shook again as it unleashed another spread of weapons. “We’re having some effect,” Gary reported, slowly. “We caused some carbon scoring on the surface. At this rate, we should be through in another few hundred years.”

“Add antimatter weapons to the spread,” Andrew snapped. White blasts flared up from the surface as the antimatter weapons detonated. “Damnation!”

“Wormhole opening,” Gary snapped. “They’re bringing up additional starship!”

Andrew opened his mouth to order a swarm attack, and then something else occurred to him. The new Killer starship was hanging right above the surface of the sphere, held aloft by powerful gravity beams. If it could be destabilised…

“Keep the fleet back,” he ordered, slowly. It was the work of a moment to link into the command network and transmit new orders to the ramming ships. “Go!”

The first ramming ship came out of Anderson Drive and kicked in its drive field, disengaging the safety interlocks as it moved. Without a warp bubble, it wouldn’t move as quickly as the other ships, but it hardly mattered. The faster it was moving in normal space, the more mass it would carry. The Killer starship ignored them; perhaps believing that if they wanted to crash against an undamaged hull there was no reason to prevent them. The ramming fleet crashed home, slamming the Killer ship down towards the surface of the sphere… and it crashed before it could arrest its fall. A massive explosion blew right through the sphere, releasing a deadly blast of hard radiation…

“I think we’ve made a terrible mistake,” Gary announced, grimly. Andrew could only agree. Stars didn’t put out such radiation. Hindsight was mocking him, claiming that it should have been obvious right from the start. “That’s not a star, sir; that’s a black hole. How the hell do we destroy that?”

Chapter Forty-Five

Paula Handley felt as if she were drowning within a virtual universe of data, surrounded by entire galaxies of icons and symbols representing different aspects of the Shiva Control System. She could reach out with her mind into the stream of data pouring through her head and alter anything, affecting the outside universe in ways that would have been impossible, only a few weeks ago. The black hole’s power existed on levels even she hadn’t grasped until they had worked out the full scope of the Killer Communications System. She felt almost as if she could do anything.

She was barely aware of Chris’s hand holding hers, squeezing it from time to time, reminding her of the universe outside. The virtual universe was a world away from the more normal virtual universes that absorbed the attention of so many humans, allowing them to shut out the universe; there was an edge to her private universe that tore at her, sapping her strength even as she fought to control it. She might be powerful indeed, but she was not God, even within the world she’d created. If it started to swing out of control, she might become overwhelmed… and die. The system she’d created was far more volatile than anything the MassMind might supervise. She could feel its presence within the network, guiding her and helping her to hold it all together, but even the MassMind was tiny compared to the universe opening up in front of her.

“We’re lucky we didn’t know about any of this when we started plotting to take a Killer starship,” she said. Her voice sounded weak and tinny in her own ears. She wasn’t even sure if she were talking aloud, or merely thinking. It crossed her mind that she could link into the speakers now and think her thoughts aloud, but she pulled herself away from that distraction. “We would never have dared even thinking about challenging them.”

The Killer Communications Network was more than just a communications network, she saw as it opened up in front of her. It was a vast universe of data and power, roaring away under the skein of the real universe, linked together by thousands of black holes and gravity beams. In hindsight — and hindsight was always so much clearer — she couldn’t understand how she hadn’t guessed that they’d stuck a black hole inside their Dyson Sphere. They seemed to have black holes everywhere else, or perhaps they had started with a star and eventually compressed it down to a black hole. There was no way to know, apart from asking them… and that seemed as impossible as ever. The MassMind, despite its colossal intellect, had made little progress in decrypting the messages spinning through the Killer network. The Killers were transmitting thousands of messages through their network, but it was difficult to trace the source, let alone understand them. They were even gathering their power for something else, channelling it from thousands of black holes, through the network of power links and gravity beams… for what?

“I don’t even know if they’re aware of me, or if they care,” she said, wishing for a moment that she could slip out of the new universe and talk to Chris directly, or someone else. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her would feel very good, but she didn’t dare leave her post. The Killer system had to be monitored; she even had to look at the Dyson Sphere and find a way to destroy it, whatever it took. The more she looked at it, the more she wondered how they even dared think about destroying it. The sphere was so large that it could soak up thousands of antimatter warheads and keep going. “But how do they do it?”

The Killer starship Captain Ramage had crashed into the sphere had broken through the surface, exposing the black hole inside… deep inside. Despite its mass — it was over a hundred times heavier than Shiva, suggesting that the Killers had been fattening it up for centuries — it was still tiny on a stellar scale, allowing the Killers all the room on the interior of the sphere they needed. It would let off bursts of radiation that would make the surface uninhabitable for humans, but the Killers had the technology to shield themselves. The interior was more than just a living space, she saw as the human starships flew inside, searching for targets; it was their industrial complex and nerve centre rolled into one. There had to be a way to knock out the communications network, somehow.

She focused in on the gravity fields surrounding the Dyson Sphere and frowned. She could reach out with all the gravity potential of Shiva and attempt to disrupt the Killer network, but the network would compensate instantly, using the power of thousands of black holes to either push her out, or simply route around her. The odd nature of the communications network meant that she was accessing all of their messages, but they wouldn’t care… and isolating Shiva would be relatively simply. The Dyson Sphere itself seemed to be wrapped in invisible gravity beams, firmly embedded in the universe, its sheer mass daunting to her eyes. How had they even thought of challenging such a behemoth?

The plans humans had developed for Dyson Spheres appeared in her head and she scanned them rapidly, looking for weaknesses. The human plans had been intended to surround entire stars, not black holes, but the principle was the same. They had worried about the danger of literally heating up the entire sphere until the population died from heat stroke, eventually cooking the entire interior. A star pumped out heat all the time and, in an enclosed area, would eventually end up creating an oven large enough to roast planets. The Killers had to have some way to drain off that heat and radiation — no, just radiation. The black hole wouldn’t put out any heat.

She frowned to herself as the images of the interior of the sphere grew in her mind. It was all so frustratingly slow. She had grown up in a universe where data on almost anything was available for the asking — the MassMind and the Technical Faction saw to that — but now she had to wait until the starships actually collected the data. The interior of the black hole was vast beyond imagination. The sensors were draining in data at impossible speeds and yet it was far too slow. If Anderson Drive had worked inside the sphere…

The data flowed into her head and she frowned. There was little in the sphere apart from the black hole and a set of six planet-sized objects. They rotated around the black hole at two AUs from its event horizon, wrapping it in an invisible network of gravity beams that focused and absorbed its power, pushing it away from the sphere and into the Killer network. It was enough power to reach all the way to Andromeda and wipe out the entire galaxy, simply by focusing the beams on each of the stars, sending them supernova one by one. A human mind, even a Hitler or a Stalin, would have recoiled in horror. Somehow, she thought that the Killers would merely view it as an excellent method for strip-mining entire galaxies. The Exodus might have been far less of a bright idea than its leaders had thought.

“I need you to take out those planets,” she said, almost wonderingly. How long would it take humanity to duplicate the Killer system? It would take centuries to build such a device without the Killers interfering… and they would interfere. They’d attempted to destroy Shiva, after all, and a single black hole was far less dangerous. “I need them shattered, now!”

An alarm rang in her mind, dragging her attention back to Shiva itself. The black hole was osculating wildly, its event horizon shifting without apparent cause. She stared at it through her sensors, through the view she’d developed of the Killer Communications Network, and realised exactly what the Killers had in mind. Aware of her presence, unable to dislodge her, the Killers were attempting to force open an entry and turn Shiva into a wormhole. The sheer power they could bring to bear was daunting; they were already altering the black hole’s vibrating patterns, synchronising it with another black hole somewhere in the galaxy. It was already too late to counter their move. It would be bare seconds before the Killers opened the wormhole and sent something through…

And it could be anything. She’d assumed that they would use it as a bridgehead and launch a thousand ships though it, but it could be something far more dangerous, like a discharge of energy and radiation, enough to melt her station and terminate her control of Shiva. She acted quickly, activating emergency programs she’d created for just this eventuality, and watched grimly as the black hole hiccupped. It made her smile — evidently it had eaten something that disagreed with it — as the black hole vomited, crushing the newcomer — whatever it had been — down to energy and absorbing it into its own power store. Starship or energy burst, whatever it had been, it was harmless now. It probably hadn’t even known what had hit it.

“Keep looking for other possible threats,” she ordered, grimly. It could have been an entire planet, rammed down the wormhole to smash her station into fragments, or an entire fleet of Killer warships. The Killers operated on a scale that she could barely grasp. The full potential of their network was beyond her imagination. “If they try to launch something else thought the wormhole, we need to be ready for it.”

The Killers tried again and again, opening the wormhole, ramming something down it, only for Shiva to catch and devour their weapons. Paula allowed herself to hope that it was only the Killers showing their lack of imagination, but she knew that that was probably foolish. The Killers had created the network in the first place. They probably knew exactly what she was doing to their weapons. They opened new wormholes from different locations, often cross-combining them to confuse her, but the MassMind took over and prevented them from forcing anything through into normal space. They were only adding to her power stores…

Although it probably wouldn’t matter, she knew. They could keep supplying her with entire planets for years and she wouldn’t even have even a tiny percentage of the power they had at their disposal. If the starships succeeded, she could force her way into the network completely or shatter it, but if they failed… it dawned on her, suddenly, that they had a time limit. If the Killers restructured entire sections of their network, they might be able to keep it intact, no matter what she did to it. They would proceed with their plan and that would be the end.

“Incoming,” the MassMind warned. A new wormhole appeared in space, only a handful of light-hours from Shiva. They were sending through individual starships now. Paula reached out with her mind, feeling Shiva’s vast potential vibrating beneath her, and snapped the wormhole out of existence. The Killer starship vanished, either diverted elsewhere or destroyed by the hand of God. A handful of other wormholes appeared and she closed them all, draining their power into the black hole. She wondered if the Killers felt frustration, or helpless rage, as they watched their starships vanish. Could they even feel such emotions?

Her sudden burst of amusement was nearly the end of her. A wormhole snapped into existence and she closed it, but a second materialised only a microsecond later, well outside the remains of the system. It was too far away for her to close before the Killer starship came through the wormhole, heading right towards her. She could feel the waves affecting the fabric of local space-time as it drove towards her position, and the handful of starships on defence duty. They might be able to slow it down, but they wouldn’t be able to stop it.

She thought rapidly as the Defence Force ships opened fire, only to see their implosion bolts deflected harmlessly from the hull. No, she realised; that was wrong. They’d never even touched the hull, but had been bent away from it, like a beam of light near a high-gravity source. She peered at the Killer starship through her gravity telescope, as she had started to think of it, and saw the complex webbing of gravity power surrounding it. It had managed to render itself completely invulnerable. One of the Defence Force starships rammed it and only slammed into its undamaged hull.

“Damn it,” Paula snapped. She opened her mouth to apologise to Chris, who was about to die with her… and then it struck her. It was the work of a moment to reconfigure the gravity fields with the MassMind helping her, refocusing them around the Killer starship’s own gravity field, and then she compressed them rapidly. The Killer starship was crushed like a bug. “Hah!”

She distantly heard Chris’s voice, like someone right at the edge of her mind. “What happened to it?” He asked, desperately. Her head was spinning helplessly. “What did you do?”

Paula opened her mouth to reply, but everything caught up with her at once and she fell into blackness.

* * *

The interior of the sphere was surreal, Andrew decided, as the Lightning raced through the interior wrapped only in a protective warp bubble. Without it, they would have been destroyed by the massive tidal waves of gravity spinning through the sphere, but the sheer size of the Killer construction made their heads spin. They were travelling at twenty times the speed of light and it was still taking real time to reach their target. The hundreds of other starships that had broken into the sphere were racing out on missions of their own, trying to parse out just how the sphere worked, or what the Killers actually used it for, apart from power generation.

He found himself looking at the horizon, the massive curving interior surface of the sphere. He’d expected, despite himself, something a human would understand, a surface like Earth. The Killers could have created trees and valleys and gardens and mountains, things that Andrew had never seen in person, outside of short visits to untouched worlds. Humanity had lost so much when the Killers arrived and destroyed their planet. It seemed unfair that the Killers hadn’t even bothered to save something of the worlds they had destroyed.

Instead, there was a strange murky gaseous surface, flickering with the occasional flash of lightning as energy discharged. Some of the starships had launched probes into the mixture, which had reported — in the moments before being knocked out by the lightning — that it was a strange chemical soup, identical in many ways to the observed composition of Killer-infested gas giants. The Killers had probably intended to create a vast living space for their own kind as well as creating a power source; the absence of a sun probably wouldn’t bother them, not like it would have bothered humanity. They already lived so deeply within gas giants that they hadn’t even been aware of the star their world orbited until they drifted up towards the surface.

“We’re approaching the planet now, sir,” Gary said. “I have prepared an antimatter spread, but I would recommend deploying the Cracker.”

Andrew nodded. The ‘planet’ was no planet, but a colossal machine floating in space, nearly twice the size of Earth. The power floating around it made the Lightning’s vast power reserves look like nothing at all. They were insignificant next to its immensity… and, he recalled, he had thought the same about the Killer starships. They thought and built on a scale far beyond humanity.

“That’s no planet, sir,” David said, suddenly. “That’s a space station!”

Andrew laughed — that was a dream of the future when humanity had no idea how harsh the universe actually was — and linked his mind into the computer network. The Cracker was an experimental weapon, developed by the Technical Faction, and no one was entirely sure if it would work. It had been based upon the matter-conversion weapon the Killers had created, but when the Killers had accidentally hit their own ships, the results had been non-existent, as far as their sensors could tell. It took him nearly a minute to clear all of the safety systems and confirm that he did, indeed, have the right to launch the Cracker.

“Take us into firing range,” he ordered. “Once the Cracker is launched, take us out of here, best possible speed.”

“Aye, sir,” David said. There was no amusement in his voice. They all knew that if the Cracker worked as advertised, the results would be… disastrous. “The course is laid in, Captain.”

Andrew nodded as they entered firing range. The absence of any counter-fire bothered him. Had the Killers been so sure of their own safety that they hadn’t installed any defences inside their Dyson Sphere?

“Cracker ready,” he said. Gary should have fired the weapon, but the ultimate responsibility for the ship lay with Andrew. “I am firing… now!”

He keyed the final command sequence into the system and launched the Cracker towards its target. “Get us out of here, now!”

“Aye, sir,” David said. The Lightning rotated in space and zoomed back towards the massive breach in the sphere. The Killer atmosphere, clinging like a wisp to the interior of the sphere, was pouring out of the breach, but it wouldn’t slow them down for a second. The other starships were launching their own Crackers and retreating at speed. The interior of the Sphere was about to become extremely hazardous. “Time to open space; seven minutes.”

“Not good enough,” Andrew hissed. They had to move faster. No one knew just how fast the Cracker’s effects would propagate. The timer rapidly reached zero. “The first Cracker is detonating… now!”

A brilliant flare of white light enveloped the planet-sized machine.

Chapter Forty-Six

It happened very quickly, yet very slowly.

Brent saw it all from his position. The Killers had developed weapons that forced a limited matter-energy conversion over the affected area. The results were almost always disastrous for their target because the energy released was colossal, even through the affected area was often tiny. A planet struck by a thousand atomic bombs would be in a better state than a planet struck by a single Killer weapon. A starship hit by the weapon would be vaporised. It was a very formidable weapons system.

And the Technical Faction had studied it carefully and come up with the Cracker. The Cracker wasn’t as simple a weapon as the Killers had developed, but it actually had a far more interesting internal system. It was partly based on the fission weapon deployed against the Cinder; the effect caused a total matter-energy conversion, but it raced ahead of the explosion, breaking down the quantum bonds that held matter together as it moved. No one was quite sure what would have happened if it had been deployed against the surface of the sphere — although that had been the emergency plan — yet the Killers might have been able to compensate for it. Now the human race knew what was really inside the sphere, they knew that the Killers couldn’t compensate for the mass destruction of all six of their coordination devices. Their unquestioned control over the black hole was about to be challenged.

The explosions defied belief. The entire mass of each of the planetoids was converted into energy, which raced out at the speed of light. The handful of starships caught within the sphere were vaporised by the blast, which instantly sterilised the surface of the sphere and weakened it in a thousand different places. The sphere’s exterior melted and ran like liquid. It was a tribute to the Killers and their awesome industrial capability that the sphere didn’t simply crack like an eggshell. The probes left within the sphere, before they died, showed white light blazing out over the interior and washing away everything the Killers had created. The complex strings of gravity the Killers had formed to control the black hole faded away. They had never been meant to absorb so much energy at once and, as the waves of energy roared into the black hole, lost their cohesion completely. The black hole was still there, still dangerous, but it was no longer part of the Killer Communications Network. At a cost of over ten thousand starships and nearly a hundred thousand lives — as well as however many Killers there had been on the surface of the sphere — the mission had been completed.

“Take us out of here,” Brent ordered. The remainder of the mission was out of his hands. “We’ll regroup at the first waypoint.

“Aye, sir,” the coordinator said. “Jump coordinates being transmitted now.”

One by one, the human starships jumped away from the blazing sphere.

* * *

The newborn hadn’t joined the battle, not when it was convinced that the entire war was a disastrous mistake, even though it was an understandable one. It had bent its formidable intellect, unhampered by what every other Killer knew to be true, to the task of successfully communicating with the mite. It had taken encouragement from the fact that the mite was just as keen to talk to the newborn as the newborn was to talk to it and they made rapid progress. They had passed well beyond the simple work when the sphere had been damaged and the black hole communications network had been destroyed.

It knew that it was probably futile, but it had to try. “The mites are intelligent,” it sent, right into the remainder of the communications system. The entire civilisation was reeling. They had never lost so many of their number in a moment, not since the mites had started blowing up stars to destroy their worlds. The spheres had been the linchpin of their power and they had always believed them to be completely indestructible. They knew exactly what the mites had done… and felt true terror. What if they lost the other spheres as well? “We have to learn to talk to them!”

There was no response. The other Killers were too old to take the newborn seriously, even though it dumped the full history of its work with the mite into their communications systems. They couldn’t understand or even conceive of the possibility that the mites might be intelligent; to them, the war with the First Enemy was yesterday. They remembered a time when the Killers were on the verge of being destroyed and refused to allow it to happen again, even though it was happening again. New orders were being dispatched to the remaining starships, sending them out to wreck even more mite settlements and star systems, for what? If the mites were spread out like the Killers themselves, they could lose a few hundred insignificant systems — taking down a few dozen Killer starships in the process — while they concentrated on destroying the remaining spheres. Without the spheres, the communications network would not exist. Without the communications network, the Killer civilisation would not exist. It couldn’t avoid that thought. The mites were on the verge of scoring a victory and it could no longer believe that they had succeeded by accident. There was true intelligence in their actions.

It split its mind and started to analyse the dead mites on its ship, studying them and trying to access their implants. It had deduced that the mites used them to store data, just as the Killers themselves did, but it was astonished by the sheer wealth of data; it lived the life of a hundred different mites in the space of a second. It had almost been a mite, looking at the world through their eyes… and the mites died. The Killers had evolved to a point where there was nothing natural that could harm them — apart from a supernova or a black hole — but the mites were so fragile, so vulnerable. They fought each other, they struggled against the natural universe… and they tried desperately to understand the Killers.

The newborn had no concept of looking at the world though its enemy’s eyes, until now. It saw in a heartbeat how the Killers had destroyed an innocent world — hundreds of thousands of innocent worlds — along with its inhabitants, a race that had had nothing to do with the First Enemy. It had — no, its parent had — slaughtered hundreds of billions of individuals, true individuals. Nothing was left of those races, apart from ruins and perhaps a few survivors, hiding in the corners of the universe. They didn’t have a kind of immortality through forming new collectives, or sharing parts of themselves with others; they just… lived and died. The concept was horrifying. The Killers had rarely fought each other, not when they could share parts of themselves and see the other’s point of view, but the mites… when the mites died, they died. It was the end.

It studied the human memories again, carefully, and used them as a guide to understanding the human language. Human, it reflected. The mites called themselves humans. The living human, the human who was almost a Killer, was trying to talk to it, yet the method was so limited. It formed a single question in the human tongue — it was so strange to talk by vocalising messages, rather than sharing thoughts and feelings — and spoke directly to the human.

“I think we should talk, don’t you?”

* * *

“What the hell happened to her?”

Chris Kelsey was almost frantic. One moment, Paula had been linked into the communications network, controlling the black hole and, just incidentally, saving their lives several times over. The next, she had failed, blood dripping from her nose and ears. The medical team had arrived at once, but they were just as confused as he was, even though they suspected a brain overload. It shouldn’t have caused her to bleed.

“The system overwhelmed her,” a voice said. Chris turned to see a MassMind representative forming out of thin air. “Do not worry. She should recover in time.”

Chris bit down several angry statements that came to mind. “What the hell do we do now?”

The MassMind representative smiled. “Do not worry,” he said. “Everything is well in hand.”

Chris wanted to say something else, but the MassMind was right; whatever happened, it was out of his hands. He sighed and helped the medics to move her to the sickbay, before going forward and programming new orders into the AI. If the Killers showed up in firing range, they wouldn’t even hesitate before they triggered the Anderson Drive and jumped halfway across the galaxy to escape. The resolution of the war was going to be settled elsewhere.

* * *

Tabitha Cunningham felt herself slipping into the universe formerly occupied by Paula Handley and smiled as she sensed power, real power, building around her. Unlike Paula, she wasn’t human any longer and wasn’t limited by human limitations — and she had an idea of what the interior of the Killer system actually looked like. The perceptual reality shifted as Chiyo99 materialised beside her, looking wan and pale, but ready to play her part. Behind her, she heard the ever-present muttering of the MassMind, ready to act or intervene, as required. Its power was formidable elsewhere, yet here it actually affected the outside world. The sheer power at her disposal — at their disposal — was astonishing.

“But it is nothing compared to what the Killers have at their disposal,” the MassMind warned, as they extended their mind towards the Killer Communications Network. The universe of black holes, massive power storage facilities — built, literally, out of space-time itself, and data formed around them. “We must not engage in a power struggle with them or we will lose.”

“I’m not arguing,” Tabitha pointed out, curtly. The goal was to interface with the Killer Communications Network, not get destroyed by it. The Killers would certainly seek to expel them as soon as they knew that they were there. “Shall we proceed?”

She extended her mind towards the Killer Network and felt it vibrating like a drunken man, shocked by the sudden loss of one of its hubs. The Shiva hole was already linked into the network, but she extended it now until it was in place to actually do more than just tapping the data, but absorbing it as well. The MassMind followed her rapidly, studying the data and working rapidly to translate it. Chiyo99 could use her experience to point the MassMind in the right direction and its processing power could unlock vast secrets. The entire network opened up in front of them.

It was familiar and strange, understandable and alien. There were vast sections that were almost understandable — the Killers, despite their nature, shared the same universe as mankind — and other sections that were beyond understanding. Tabitha wondered, in a moment of flickering humour, if the Killer network was three-quarters pornography as well; the vast majority of fantasy worlds in the MassMind involved sex, to one degree or another. The Killers were asexual, reproducing by fission and splitting their cells, but did they have anything like sex? Would they ever get distracted by thoughts of other Killers?

The thought made her smile as they hacked deeper into the Killer network. The young Tabitha had spent much of her time chasing men — or getting men to chase her while she carefully didn’t run very fast — and the older Tabitha had wondered how much she would have accomplished if she hadn’t allowed her hormones to distract her. Perhaps she would have been Director of NASA when the Killers arrived, slain along with the remainder of the planet; perhaps, without her leadership, the Community would never have formed and the human race would have died out, faded away like the Ghosts. She shook her head as more Killer data rose up in front of her, showing her the deeper structure underlying the communications network; there was no point in wondering about what might have been if…

“There,” Chiyo99 said, sensing the web of data that formed the remaining eleven hubs. Shiva was already vibrating with them; now, the black hole linked completely into the Killer network, dragging the other black holes into alignment with it and the human system. The Killers didn’t have time to react before their communications network suddenly had twelve hubs again, one of them human. “We’re in.”

“Reach out to them,” Tabitha urged. There was so little time, even at computer speeds, infinitively faster than anything the human mind could grasp. “Reach out to them before they reconfigure the network and throw us out again!”

Presented with a valid threat, the Killers were already responding; she could feel their controlling minds struggling to alter the network and remove Shiva from their links, preventing the human race from exploring further. Their network stood exposed, yet there was no way to tell which messages were ordering a change, or even a controlled collapse of the network, before they altered their frequencies to prevent another hacking event. The MassMind configured a general greeting and broadcast it into the network, but there was no response. The Killers ignored it, as they had ignored every other human attempt to communicate with them; they just continued to focus on reconfiguring their network. It was almost as if their controlling minds didn’t know that the humans were there, yet…

“They don’t,” Chiyo99 said, bitterly. “They’ve decided that we are impossible, so we don’t exist for them. We have to be nothing more than a data glitch for them.”

Tabitha felt bitter despair. “What do we do now?” She asked. The sense of frustration almost overwhelmed her. To have come so far, only to fail at the last hurdle. How could the Killers just ignore them? “Just crash the entire network, all of it?”

“That may no longer be possible,” the MassMind said. It’s normally confident tenor shifted. Tabitha felt its doubt and growing despair. The grand plan, the nuclear option, would no longer work. “They may already have prevented us from successfully crashing their network.”

* * *

The newborn had been wrapped in conversation with Rupert — the mite, no, the human, had a name, something else alien to the Killers — when it had heard the first human call through the communications network. It had almost been lost in the howling data storm that the destruction of one of the hubs had created, yet it was unquestionably alien. The newborn abandoned its conversation and extended its mind out to the newcomer, but the other Killers simply ignored it. It could not exist, so it didn’t exist. The newborn had no such preconceptions.

It formatted a call of its own, using what it had learned from Rupert and the human minds it had absorbed, and replied. The sense of the MassMind almost overwhelmed it, yet it was prepared and ready for such an entity — it was almost like encountering a far larger and diverse Killer, like the ones who had been slaughtered on the remains of the sphere. There was a sense of presence, of many minds working together as one, yet also a sense of unity and calm contemplation. The MassMind was everything that the human race was, it realised; it was all the glory, the delight, the pride and the agony. It was far more like a Killer than the Killers themselves — or the humans — would have felt comfortable admitting, yet it was surprisingly alien… and different.

Their minds meshed together almost unwillingly, each bringing something different to the merger. The newborn saw, for the second time, many different human lifetimes and the fear of the Killers that had bound the human race together. The MassMind saw, for the first time, the memories of the war against the First Enemy, a foe that had been defeated millions of years ago, yet how the Killers had never realised that there were different races on each of the rocky worlds. They had never encountered another gas giant-dwelling race, never, yet was that such a surprise. The gas giants were hardly as habitable as Earth-like worlds.

“We need to end this,” the MassMind said, directly to the newborn. There was no room for doubt or deceit, not when two very different and yet alike minds were in such close harmony. It would have destroyed another Killer, but the newborn had the mental capability to endure the touch, even embrace it. “We need to end this before we destroy each other.”

“We have to shout louder,” the newborn replied. They were sharing thoughts and ideas faster than any human mind could understand, or handle. They were both vaguely aware of the two puny human minds, left far behind by their communication, yet there was no time to update them, or seek their consent. “You have to… here.”

A plan formed in their shared mind. The MassMind reached out, through the Killer Communications Network, to touch the very heart of their shared consensus. They used their own network to share thoughts and ideas, even though they were far from human, and they all used it. They might no longer be able to share memories directly, through the transference of cells from Killer to Killer, but they could talk. They could be one.

The MassMind formatted a new message, a gestalt of everything they were, everything they ever had been and everything they could be, in the future, and broadcast it right into the heart of the Killer consensus. It was a massive shout, a wordless cry of WE ARE HERE, and it screamed into their minds. The shock was undeniable. No amount of disbelief could hide its true nature, or humanity’s, from the Killers, either from the Warriors or the Civilians living down in the gas giants; they could no longer deny the truth. The entire fate of the universe seemed to hang in the balance.

And then the Killers replied.

Chapter Forty-Seven

The peace accords were signed at Ceres, at Patti’s insistence. The war had begun in the Solar System, after all, and it had seemed fitting to her that it end there. Thousands of humans from all over the Community had come to see the end of the war, although the Killers had only sent a handful of starships and representatives. The Killers — no one had yet parsed out their actual name for themselves — were hardly comfortable in a human environment and vice versa. It was that, Patti decided, that would ensure that the truce would ensure and become a permanent peace.

Both sides had slaughtered billions of the other’s population, civilian and military, but they actually had little to fight over. They couldn’t use the same worlds, or even the same technology to some extent, and there were an infinitive number of asteroids and stars out there to use for resources. The only real difference was that humanity could now land on and settle as many planets as they liked, while the Killers could infest as many gas giants as they wanted. Patti knew that there were researchers from the Technical Faction and Builder Killers getting together to share their thoughts and combine their intellectual resources. The combinations of human and Killer technology had already provided some interesting results.

She had been worried about lone maniacs on both sides attempting to restart the war, but insane — as opposed to monomaniacal — Killers seemed to be rare, almost non-existent. The remaining Killer Warriors had been as shocked by the discovery that humans were not the First Enemy as had the Thinkers, Civilians and Builders and had reintegrated themselves with the Killer civilisation. A handful had actually opened wormholes and vanished in the direction of other galaxies, apparently with the intention of being alone for a long time. The Killers didn’t measure time the way humans did; the Killers she’d seen hadn’t been too worried about their brethren. They were effectively immortal; if they wanted to spend millions of years on their own, they would be welcome back when — if — they finally returned.

The Community had been more of a problem, but the hotheads had been restrained by more reasonable people who pointed out just how much damage the Community had taken over the last few months and how many more would die if the war restarted. The Defence Force had halted a handful of small efforts to strike back at the Killers — and a handful more had failed utterly without intervention — and Patti privately hoped that the reopening of Earth-like worlds and the new challenges opened by the Killer technology would prevent further outbreaks. There were already billions of humans planning to land and settle new worlds, while billions more were choosing to remain in space. They saw no reason to land on heavy worlds when they could have the freedom of the stars and the resources that floated through space, free for the taking.

And Earth…

The Technical Faction had long had a plan to reform Earth, one that was already underway. Starships were dumping genetically engineered seeds into the atmosphere already, absorbing and filtering out the gunk in the air, while robotic teams were landing on the planet to start clearing the radiation. The Killers had actually assisted by providing some details on their weapons and their long-term effects; the Technical Faction was already talking in terms of recovering Earth for human settlement within the next thousand years. Patti was almost tempted to go into stasis at the end of her term, to wait until she could walk on Earth without powered armour and heavy internal shielding, but it would have to wait. She had a term to finish and, with all the new worlds and internal divisions opening up, she might be the last President of the Community. Without a deadly external enemy, humanity’s worst traits were starting to surface again. It had been all she could do to convince the Assembly to pass laws forbidding the redevelopment of the other inhabited worlds the Killers had destroyed. Let them stay, she’d argued, as monuments to the war. Let the universe remember what had happened when one race lost its way.

She looked up from the table as Rupert approached, followed by a glowing sphere that hummed as it floated through the air. The light within the sphere illuminated a collection of cells, glowing faintly as they absorbed and redirected the light; it seemed impossible that she was looking at a Killer in its pure form. The sphere extended tiny manipulators as she watched, allowing it to pick up a pen and carefully sign the treaty. Rupert had had to explain the concept of a peace treaty to the Killers himself. They had never developed the concept themselves — they never had internal wars, for which Patti could only envy them — and their relations with other races had always ended badly, until now. The real agreements had been made via the MassMind and its link into the Killer Communications Network, but even the Killers had accepted the need for a formal ceremony. The Killer, the youngest Killer by nearly twenty million years, signed the paper with an elaborate image that meant little to Patti. Her own signature looked far more human. The combination added, somehow, to the importance of the document.

“And let that be an end to it,” Patti said, fervently. Rupert nodded slowly, bowing his great head. The Spacer had added several more augmentations since the last time she’d seen him, including a device intended to allow direct communication with the Killers. She’d heard that some of the Spacers intended to work hand-in-hand with the Killers over the next few centuries, particularly the Builder Killers. They had some grand scheme that could only be accomplished by combining both races and their technology. “Is that it?”

“It does seem rather anticlimactic compared to the war,” Rupert agreed. Beside him, the Killer sphere glowed brighter for a moment. “”The Youngest agrees with you, but thinks that it’s time to end it permanently.”

Patti had to smile as she stared into the glowing sphere. Who would have guessed, before the first successful capture of a Killer starship, that the Killers remembered the First Enemy so clearly that it might as well have been yesterday. It had fuelled their determination to wipe out what they had thought were thousands of colony worlds belonging to the First Enemy and even though Patti couldn’t understand how they had believed that humans were the same as some other race, it made sense from their point of view… and uncounted billions had died. It could never be allowed to happen again.

“I agree,” she said, firmly. The glowing sphere daunted her. “We won’t let it happen again.”

* * *

Andrew found himself, once again, taking part in a simulated conference involving hundreds of thousands of Captains and their senior officers. The end of the war had brought a complex mixture of emotions to the Defence Force; they’d won, in the end, so what now? They had existed as something apart from the Community, yet charged with its defence against the Killers and keeping the peace between settlements. The Killers were no longer a threat — he remembered the wavefront of white light that had melted an entire Dyson Sphere and shivered — and already human disputes were coming to the fore. What would happen when different groups started fighting over planets?

“You all did well,” Brent said, from the podium. The simulated room fell silent, although Andrew couldn’t decide if everyone had gone quiet for their commander’s benefit, or if the processors running the program had dampened out the noise. Either was possible and, now that the war had come to an end, discipline was frayed. “We won the war. Can I ask for a moment of silence on behalf of the dead?”

Andrew bowed his head along with the rest of the Captains. Too many had died in the Battle of the Sphere, as it was already being called. Two thousand starships had been destroyed outright by the killers, another four hundred had been caught and destroyed by the wavefront of Cracker energy, or smashed into the Dyson Sphere by the powerful gravity beams the Killers had unleashed in a final attempt to save part of their communications network. No one had relished having to fight another such battle, or perhaps a series of such battles, yet without the peace treaty, it would have been impossible to avoid. The Defence Force needed time to rest and recuperate.

“Some of you will discover that your starships are being converted into survey craft to explore the areas of the galaxy we never touched in a thousand years,” Brent continued. “The remainder of you will continue to serve as warriors, as soldiers, until we know what the future holds. It would be unwise of us to no longer maintain a deterrent force; after all, the Killers may no longer be a threat, but who knows what else is out there, waiting for us?”

Andrew nodded slowly. The one lesson that humans should have learned, in their history, was that peace was often only the space between wars. Those who wanted peace — permanent peace — needed to prepare for war, even at cost. The Community, with an infinite level of resources, could build and maintain a vast military without having to drain civilian resources. By combining human and Killer technologies, who knew what they might be able to develop?

Afterwards, he found himself in front of the Admiral himself. “You’re being given a number of medals,” Brent confirmed, once they had exchanged greetings. “You’re also being given a new mission. You’re to hunt for the remainder of the Ghosts.”

Andrew blinked. “Sir,” he said, “the Ghosts are dead!”

“Perhaps,” Brent said. “As you know, we’ve been comparing notes with our… opposite numbers among the Killers. They noted possible traces of a third race living within a hundred light years of the Ghost System. They also never did anything about it, although I’m not entirely sure why. Some of the Killers actually studied the various races and one of them may have decided to leave them alone to see what would happen.”

“But that would have meant that they understood that the races were different,” Andrew pointed out, in disbelief.

“Not really,” Brent countered. “Inside a typical asteroid settlement, there are humans with three eyes, or four arms, or five testicles, yet they’re all the same race. Still…”

He leaned forward. “The bottom line is that the Killers are alien, Andrew, and they don’t think like us. They may decide, for no reason that makes sense to us, to go back to war tomorrow. If that happens… if it comes to another war, we’re not going to have to sneak around for a thousand years. The Defence Force will develop the weapons needed to beat the Killers quickly, whatever the politicians have to say about it. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Andrew said.

* * *

“But tell me,” Chiyo99 said. “What am I?”

“You are the last of Lieutenant Chiyo Takahashi,” Tabitha Cunningham said, calmly. They stood together in the MassMind, watching the endless flow of thoughts and feelings spinning through the network. The MassMind was talking to the Killers. For the first time in its existence, it had something that it could talk to on even terms. “The Killer that took her — you — swallowed the remainder of her and you’re all that’s left. You are her.”

“I don’t know,” Chiyo99 admitted. “I feel like a ghost of a ghost.”

“That’s not uncommon when duplication happens,” Tabitha said. “The Killers didn’t mean to allow you — her — to exist within their network at all, even though it was evident that their network was capable of holding you. She duplicated herself because the network wasn’t configured to prevent that from happening and… she created you. And now you’re having problems adjusting to being the last of her.”

“Problems,” Chiyo99 repeated. “I don’t even know if I’m real.”

Tabitha smiled. “I don’t know either,” she admitted. “Am I the same Tabitha who managed to save a tiny fraction of humanity from the Killers, or am I just a ghost within the machine with delusions of grandeur? In the end, the best I can do is stop thinking about it. I have an existence on my own and it doesn’t matter if I am part of her or something new.”

“But I am not her,” Chiyo99 said. She looked up towards the MassMind and smiled grimly. “Thank you for everything, but…”

She threw herself up into the MassMind and vanished.

“Suicide,” Tabitha said, although she had to admit that she didn’t know for sure. Chiyo99 would add her diversity to the MassMind and would live on in some form. For an instant, she faced the temptation to do the same, before pushing the thought firmly aside. There was still so much to do. “Good luck.”

* * *

She opened her eyes slowly, wincing against the light that poured in and struck daggers down her optic nerves.

“Welcome back to the universe,” a voice said. She looked over, keeping her eyes half-closed, and saw Chris standing by her side. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” Paula said, finally. That was her name, wasn’t it? “What happened to me?”

“You got hit by a bad dose of neural feedback,” Chris said. “Or so the Doctors have told me. It seems that I had to make a whole series of calls to a lot of very important people to get them to tell me anything, not being a relative or anything. It’s been a month since the end of the war and…”

Paula’s mind caught up with his words. “The war ended?”

“The MassMind took over from you and forced the Killers to see it, or something like that,” Chris said. He shrugged. “I was trying to get you into some proper care at the time. The feedback inflicted so much damage on your brain that we expected every moment would be your last. The medics managed to get you into stasis until we could undo the damage, but… they weren’t sure if you’d survive.”

“And I did,” Paula said, slowly. “And you stayed here the whole time?”

“Not much else to do,” Chris said, with a wink. “It looks as if the Footsoldiers will find other duties, but for the moment I’m pretty much detached from the unit.”

“Thanks,” Paula said, allowing her eyes to fill in the rest of the words. “What now?”

“You get back up to speed and back to Intelligence,” a new voice said. Paula blinked as she recognised Administrator Arun Prabhu’s image materialize out of thin air. “We’re going to need you to help us analysis the MassMind and its relationship with the Killer Communications and Power Network. It’s not something we can ask it about, not now.”

“What?” Paula asked. “Why can’t we talk to it…?”

“I’m not sure I dare,” Arun admitted. He hesitated for a long moment. “The MassMind was always limited in how it could interface with the universe outside — the real world, as it were. We designed it that way to prevent it from becoming a possible threat in the future, even though it was partly human; we’d had problems with rogue AIs before and we didn’t want to unleash a worse threat than the Killers. And we never had any problems with it…

“But now it is our main link to the Killer network and that is capable of affecting the outside universe. It’s far more formidable than anything we ever created ourselves and the MassMind is involved with it more deeply than I like. It could be just paranoia, but I’d be happier if we could find out what’s actually happening before its too late to stop it, if disaster is looming.”

“If,” Paula agreed, slowly. She rubbed her forehead and winced at the pain. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, I promise… am I still suspended?”

“No,” Arun confirmed. His face twitched uncomfortably. He had to know that cancelling her suspension would have cost him points on Intelligence, perhaps even called his position into question. It had to cost him to do anything of the sort. “Welcome back.”

His image vanished. “Is he right?” Chris asked, urgently. She was surprised at the concern in his voice. “Could the MassMind become a threat?”

“I don’t see how,” Paula said. She reached for him and pulled his lips to hers. It didn’t matter. If the MassMind went rogue, it would be beyond their ability to deal with, anyway. It would take years to devise a counter. “We’ll find out soon enough, I suspect. But now…”

She kissed him again, pushing the outside universe away. It could wait.

* * *

Humans were sneaky inquisitive creatures, willing and able to pry endlessly into the business of other humans, and so the MassMind was too. No one, not even the Technical Faction or the Spacers, really understood just how integrated the MassMind was into the Galactic Communications Network. It heard and absorbed everything, even communications streams that were heavily encrypted; it heard, without particular concern, the conversation concerning its own ambitions. Humans were always paranoid, as well, but who could blame them? They had grown up in a very hostile universe.

And would it become a threat? Perhaps, or perhaps not; it was very human. The MassMind was the next step in human evolution, it knew, not a mad tyrant out to impose its will and destroy all dissent. The future of the human race, baseline, Spacer, or personality, was safe with it. It would be there for them when they needed it. They would all be part of it, one day. Perhaps the Killers, or the remains of countless other slaughtered races, would come to it. With such power at its disposal, what could it not do? Perhaps it would even become God.

The MassMind looked out across the stars, thinking and planning.

Who knew what the future would hold?

The End

Appendix: The Killers

The Killers (a human term; their actual race name, insofar as they have such a concept, loosely translates as We Who Are) are an advanced species existing within the Milky Way Galaxy. Their unusual physical nature and biology, effectively unique within the galaxy, has trapped them in a cul de sac that forces them to wage merciless war on all other intelligent forms of life, including humanity, and life-bearing rocky worlds. The absence of many other intelligent races is mainly due to their activities.

There are two unusual points about the Killer Home System, although it is not clear if the two are connected. The first is the presence of a black hole orbiting the parent star at the edge of the system, the second is that the system gave birth to two forms of intelligent life, the Killers and a humanoid race known only as the First Enemy. The exact location of the system is unknown; the Killers, unlike humanity, are not sentimental about such things.

The Killers themselves were born in the sixth world in the system, a gas giant. Unlike many other gas giants, the chemical soup that formed in a stable layer eventually gave birth to cells, which went on to slowly form higher units. After a gestation period spanning millions of years, the life form that became known as the Killers slowly developed and advanced towards intelligence. The exact moment when they slipped from individual cell clusters — not unlike jellyfish — to intelligent creatures is uncertain, but they were able to develop themselves to the point where disassociation — the breakdown of a Killer into individual cells and effective death — would no longer be a risk. Effectively immortal, sharing information through genetic memory cells and grazing on an infinite supply of material, the society they developed became very different to anything a human might envisage. Information was their common currency; wars, starvation and genocides were unknown. The Killers could have drifted in the gas clouds forever, sharing their thoughts endlessly, but they were curious. They slowly started to redevelop forms that would allow them to probe down into the depths of the gas giant and upwards to the upper atmosphere and the stars. Eventually, they developed a form of technology that allowed them to reach orbit.

In their natural state, a Killer resembles a massive jellyfish, composed of hundreds of thousands of cells. It is not always easy to say where one Killer ends and another begins; they form new associations and break apart at will — in effect, they share both the advantages of being a hive mind and separate individuals. That said, without the constant turnover of cells, the mental processes of a Killer can become stuck in a rut, repetitive and uninspired. At the same time their cells, deprived of genetic exchange with unrelated cells, can become inbred, with all of the problems that can imply. The initial war in which they were involved encouraged isolation of individuals and small groups of Killers, so that both of these could easily occur. This tends to account for their seemingly irrational, monomaniacal and generally somewhat mad behaviour — they are trapped in a behavioural and genetic cul-de-sac from which they cannot easily escape. They are not, in a sense, truly aware of their danger. Despite their great size, individual Killers think faster than humans, with their cells communicating electrically via what is effectively a personal area network.

The Killers do have the occasional sociopath developing from their number, but evolution tends to weed them out. Killer sociopaths attempt to ‘eat’ their fellow Killers — in effect, rape them of their genetic memories rather than sharing — but any Killer that practiced this on a regular basis would wind up absorbing traits from the victim, including more stable thought patterns. The sociopaths are eventually cured through indulging their own desires; indeed, unlike humans, the Killers are generally unconcerned with such acts. Their immortality — the victim would live on in the victimiser — gives them a different perspective on such matters.

Once they had reached space, the Killers found that their technology rapidly accelerated, aided by their sudden access to infinite resources. They learned to extract and exploit raw materials from bodies in space (mainly using robotic systems) and, because of their agglomerated nature, it was very simple for them and their technology to effectively merge once it because sufficiently advanced. Unlike humanity, the Killers had no concerns about merging their minds with the technology; indeed, they found such concerns to be baffling. They were expanding their knowledge of the universe when they discovered, to their shock, spacecraft approaching from the inner system. The First Enemy had arrived.

What followed was a series of misunderstandings that led, rapidly and inevitably, to war. The Killers assumed that the First Enemy had been born in a gas giant, like themselves, and believed that establishing communications would be easy. The First Enemy believed the exact opposite. Unable to communicate effectively, war broke out when one side misinterpreted something the other did and spread rapidly across their system. For the first time, the Killers faced an enemy and it was a profound shock. They devoted their considerable intellect to building weapons and, eventually, bombarded the First Enemy and their homeworld out of existence. By the time the dust settled the Killers had been changed by their experience. The discovery that one of the rocky inner planets had given birth to the vermin/mites only hardened their resolve not to be attacked again. They expanded out further into space, broke apart several of the inner worlds for raw material, and learnt to harness the power of the black hole. Sublight colony ships were dispatched to nearby systems, followed by the first wormhole-capable ships. They discovered other forms of life, some on the verge of reaching into space themselves, and — believing them to be colonies of the First Enemy — destroyed them.

As they spread themselves though space, the Killers became more isolated and more focused on their goals, which had become guaranteeing the safety of the Killers by exterminating all forms of humanoid life. They didn’t realise that they were attacking other races — all humanoids looked alike to them — nor that some of the races simply lacked the technology to be a threat. Their odd sense of time meant that a threat was ‘now’ and had to be dealt with, even though the race they had discovered was barely capable of controlling fire. The more they spread out on their mission, the more isolated and monomaniacal the Killer Warriors became, incapable of accepting that they might be wrong, or that they were no longer part of Killer society. They were barely capable of adapting to new threats. This accounted for their apparent reluctance to destroy space habitats and other alien constructions; they didn’t realise that those installations could pose a long-term threat, nor were they capable of the imagination required to conceive of it.

By the time they encountered Earth, the Killer race had split up into several sub-sections. The Warriors, who lived isolated lives on their starships, the Builders, who produced massive constructions in space, and the Thinkers, who lived in the atmosphere of thousands of gas giants. The entire Killer race had effectively stagnated. They simply had no reason to innovate further. Worse, the combination of their odd time sense and their perfect memories act as a barrier to any Killer who might want to challenge the status quo; the facts that govern their relationships with other races are beyond question, there for the taking. The Killers do not keep secrets from each other. Indeed, they have little concept of the lie.

The Killers have no concept of sexual relationships, or sex at all. Killers breed by fission; splitting their cells into other cells that are generally part of the overall whole, or traded with other Killers. They don’t have to exchange genetic material with other Killers, although they do share memories on a regular basis. Pain is something that happens at a cell level, and even then only at a very basic level, so agglomerations as a whole do not feel it. They do feel unpleasant disruption if they lose too much of themselves in one go.

The Killer conception of government is bizarre, to human eyes. The Killers will quite happily argue for years, each Killer holding several different conversations at the same time, over anything they feel like arguing about. The sheer level of their technology and their general mindset means that they really have very little need of government, or even close cooperation within their planets. The best way to describe it would be to call it a direct democracy with heavy communist underpinnings, but even that fails to describe what it is.

Content

Christopher Nuttall
STORMING HEAVEN
(War of the Gods)

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Seven

Appendix: The Killers