Institutes! For their own reasons, they kept the Civilization of Five Galaxies ignorant. We had no inkling to prepare, or that this sort of massive spatiotemporal breakup has happened before!
“Yet, a warning did come. Even while beset by attackers, the Terrans did their citizenly duty, broadcasting an alert based upon their alternative mathematics.
“Is it a coincidence that great harm befell those who ignored the warning? Those blinded by their contempt for wolfling science, who chose obstinate ideology over pragmatism?”
(“Have you guessed yet, brethren? Have ye figured out who streaks toward you now? Insolent. Heedless of the reverence you feel yourselves due? Can you sniff/sense/feel/grok the very thing you covet … and secretly fear?”)
Cruisers fell in behind Streaker, cutting off retreat. Looming just ahead, the unified armada of capital ships left their siege positions to meet this challenge, spreading to envelop and enclose the impudent newcomer in an inescapable mesh of fire.
“They’re talking to each other,” informed the Niss Machine. “From battleship to battleship. A lot more discussion than you’d expect for warships going into a fight. It’s coded, but I can tell it is pretty heated.
“Is it possible they don’t understand your hints and clues, Dr. Baskin? Perhaps you’ve been too coy. Shall we go ahead and tell them who we are?”
She shook her head.
“Relax. They’re probably just arguing over how best to kill us.”
Streaker had one hope. This kind of envelopment pattern meant the enemy must concentrate their volleys into a very narrow zone, or else risk damaging each other. If the Earthship could create uncertainty over its exact position, that might result in a focused blast that was offset just enough, so their Transcendent-shell would not be overwhelmed. Then, amid the blinding aftermath, Streaker would swerve away and run for it! With any luck, this amazing survival would make the enemy pause long enough for a good head start … before the entire fleet came baying after her.
The aim was simple: to buy time, giving Earth a brief respite — a chance to quickly rearm the Luna fortresses — arid possibly get a few mothers and children away before the end.
“They are p-preparing to fire!” announced the detection officer, who then squealed a warning in Primal Delphin. “Here come sharkssss!”
Gillian felt palpable twinges go off in her mind as several hundred speedy missiles leaped from launching tubes, arming themselves as they raced toward Streaker. At this range, many would carry psi and probability warheads, as well as annihilation charges.
Streaker’s protective shell cast forth swarms of countermemes, but this time the effort would clearly be inadequate.
“You know what to do,” she told Akeakemai, trusting her life to his skill. This was not a job for a pilot but for a gifted geometrodynamics engineer.
Lacking anything else to do while waiting for obliteration, Gillian turned back to the scene playing out within the holo tank — the same message being watched on the command deck of every battleship.
The last of her simulated Old Ones started to dissolve. And yet — (copying tricks she had learned from the Transcendent) — the voice went on, using tones that were intentionally infuriating, patronizing, and serenely confident.
“Can you see the symbol on this vessel’s prow? Is it the familiar emblem of five spiral rays? Or has something else taken its place? Can you recognize the nature of our new shell?
“And yet, by now your scans also show the ancient, mundane hull within. The Earthling figures of our crew.
“Well? Can your minds resolve this anomaly? This dissonance? Is there an explanation?”
The image in the tank reformed at last, taking a shape she had recorded during her interview with the Transcendent. A form that was sure to spoil the enemy’s composure.
If just one glimpse of Herbie — a billion-year-old mummy — had thrown half the fanatics in five galaxies into a tizzy, what would the mummy’s reconstructed likeness do? Emulated in apparently living flesh, the faintly amphibian humanoid now offered an enigmatic smile that broadened to uncanny width, conveying a touch of cruel empathy.
“Come now, foolish youngsters. Surely you can draw conclusions from what lies before your very—”
Akeakemai interrupted with a squeal.
“Impact in ninety secondsss! Let’s do it-t!”
Gillian blinked as Streaker’s engines let out a wail of exertion, yanking the ship out of normal space.
Too had, she thought, regretting that it had happened quite so soon.
I wanted to watch the show once through, all the way to the end.
In theory, you could dodge enemies by jumping into hyperspace.
Unfortunately, that idea was older than a lot of stars. The arts of war had long ago adapted to such tactics. When Streaker jumped, so did the pack of onrushing missiles, which had no trouble sensing which way she headed.
Akeakemai played the engines swiftly, sending their old Snark-class survey ship leaping laterally among the known strata that still overlay Galaxy Two.
Unlike Galaxy Four, the varied levels of hyperspace were still accessible here, though with greater difficulty than before. Gillian was counting on that difference now to disrupt the timing of the incoming barrage. With any luck, there might also be chaos waves — aftershocks from the Great Rupture — to warp space and confuse the death machines.
Alas, it did not take long to realize — she had committed the worst sin of any commander. Assuming her enemies were stupid.
In B Space, where all stars turned into midget rainbows, the detection officer yelled dismay.
“Mines! They’ve filled the place with—”
Akeakemai was swift, triggering a second jump, but not before several nearby objects detonated, slamming Streaker with shock waves, even as the ship flickered over to A Space.
The strange-familiar sensations of that speedy realm crowded around Gillian, as if each direction she turned became a tunnel, offering a shortcut beyond some far horizon. Down each of those tubes, there glowed the disk of a single majestic, spinning sun.
“Fifty seconds,” murmured Hannes Suessi, mostly to himself.
“More mines!” came the rapid cry … unneeded, as a drumbeat of savage thuds rocked the ship, straining the energy-absorbing power of Streaker’s new shell. Excess heat brought sweat popping from Gillian’s skin.
In our old form, we’d be vapor by now, she thought during the agonized moment it took to flick into D Space.
It was a lousy place to look for shortcuts. Everything looked far away, as if you were peering through the wrong end of a telescope.
Unfortunately, D Space was also inhabited, by members of the Quantum life order — glimmering half-shapes whose outlines grew more vague the closer you looked at them. A multitude of these amorphous beings suddenly converged on Streaker the moment she appeared.
“Our enemies must have hired local allies to guard this back door.” The Niss Machine sounded bemused by such clever thoroughness.
Gillian saw chunks of the transcendent coating evaporate under this new attack.
“Get us out of—”
Anticipating her wishes, Akeakemai yanked Streaker’s laboring engines one more time … the same moment the converging missiles struck.
