The Armageddon Inheritance

later.

“Thanks,” Colin grunted.

His attention was on the display. The Achuultani had micro-jumped with beautiful precision, spreading out to englobe Zeta Trianguli at a range of twenty-seven light-minutes. Now they were closing in normal space at twenty-four percent light-speed. They’d be into extreme missile range in another ten minutes, but it would take them almost an hour to reach their range of The Cinder, and he and Dahak could hurt them badly in that much time.

But not too badly. They had to keep closing. He needed them deep into the stellar gravity well for this to work, and—

He snorted. There were over a million of the bastards—just how much damage did he think his fifteen ships could inflict in fifty minutes?

“Open up at fifteen light-minutes, Dahak,” he said finally. “Timed-rate fire. We don’t want to shoot ourselves dry.”

“Acknowledged,” Dahak said calmly, and they waited.

Great Lord Sorkar fought his exultation. The nest-killers had not even attempted to cloak themselves! They simply sat waiting, and that was fine with Sorkar. Many of his nestlings were about to die, but so were the nest-killers.

There had been a few more of them about, he noted. There were a third-twelve of new ships to replace the one they had lost in the first clash. Well, that was scarcely enough to affect the outcome.

His scanners gave no clear idea what was happening on the innermost planet, but something was producing a massive energy signature there, though why the nest-killers had ignored the more hospitable worlds further out puzzled him. Perhaps they were simply poorer strategists than they were ship-builders. And perhaps they had some other reason he knew not of? But whatever their logic, it was about to become a deathtrap for them.

Of course, they were infernally fast even in n-space… If they made a break for it, none of his nestlings could stay with them, but he knew an answer for that.

“They are deploying an outer sphere, Colin.”

“I see it. Want to bet they leave it ten or twelve light-minutes out to catch us between two fires if we run?”

“I have nothing to wager.”

“Chicken! What a cop out!”

“Enemy entering specified attack range.” Dahak’s mellow voice was suddenly deeper.

“Engage as previously instructed,” Colin said formally.

“Engaging, Your Majesty.”

Great Lord Sorkar flinched as the first of his ships exploded in eye-clawing fury. Nest Lord! He had known they out-ranged him, but by that much?

More ships exploded, and now those strange, terrible warheads were striking home, crumpling his mighty starships in upon themselves, but still the nest-killers made no effort to flee. Clearly they meant to cover the planet to the end. What in the name of Tarhish could make it so important to them?! No matter. They were standing, waiting for him to kill them.

“Open the formation,” he told his lords. “Maintain closure rate.”

More ships died like small, dreadful suns, and Sorkar watched coldly. He must endure this for another quarter segment, but then it would be his turn.

Jiltanith bit her lower lip as searing flashes ripped the Achuultani formation. The Empire’s anti-matter warhead yields were measured in gigatons, and fifteen planetoids pumped their dreadful missiles into the oncoming Achuultani, yet still the enemy closed. Something inside her tried to admire their courage, but that was her husband, her Colin, alone with his electronic henchman, who stood against them, and she gripped her dagger hilt, black eyes hungry, and rejoiced as the spalls of destruction pocked Two’s display.

“They are entering their range of us, Colin,” Dahak said coolly, and Colin nodded silently, awed by the waves of fire sweeping the Achuultani formation. The flames leapt high as each salvo struck, then died, only to bloom afresh, like embers fanned by a bellows, as the next salvo crashed home.

“Their losses?” he asked sharply.

“Estimate one hundred six thousand, plus or minus point-six percent.”

Jesus. We’ve killed close to nine percent of them and they’re still coming. They’ve got guts, but Lord God are they dumb! If we could do this to them another ten or fifteen times…

But maybe they’re not so dumb, because we can’t do it to them that many times. Of course, they can’t know we don’t have thousands of planetoids—

“Enemy has opened fire,” Dahak said, and Colin tensed.

Sorkar managed not to cheer as the first greater thunder burst among the enemy. Now, Nest-Killers! Now comes your turn to face the Furnace!

More and more of his ships entered range, hurling their hyper missiles into the enemy, and his direct- vision panel polarized as a cauldron of unholy Fire boiled against the nest-killers’ shields.

Jiltanith tasted blood, and her knuckles whitened on her dagger as a second star blazed in the Zeta Trianguli System. It grew in fury, hotter and brighter, born of millions of anti-matter warheads, and Colin was at its heart.

The enemy continued to close, dying as he came, trailing broken starships like a disemboweled monster’s entrails. But still he came on, and the weight of his fire was inconceivable. She knew the plan, knew Colin fought for information as well as victory, but this was too much.

“Now, my love,” she whispered. “Fly now, my Colin! Fly now!”

“Trosan has been destroyed. Heavy damage to Mairsuk. We have—”

Dahak’s voice broke off as his stupendous mass heaved. The display blanked, and Colin paled at the terrible reports in his neural feed.

“Three direct hits,” Dahak reported. “Heavy damage to Quadrants Rho-Two and Four. Seven percent combat capability lost.”

Colin swore hoarsely. Dahak’s shield had been heavily overhauled at Bia. It was just as good as his automated minions’, but his other defenses were not. He was simply slower and far less capable, than they. If the enemy noticed and decided to concentrate on him…

“Gohar destroyed. Shinhar heavily damaged; combat capability thirty-four percent. Enemy entering energy weapon range.”

“Then let’s see how tough these bastards really are!” Colin grated. “Execute Plan Volley Fire.”

Sorkar blinked as the nest-killers moved. All this time they had held their positions, soaking up his thunder, killing his ships. Now, when they had finally begun to die, they moved … but to advance, not to flee!

Then their energy weapons fired at last, and he gasped in disbelief.

“Yes! Yes!” Colin shouted. Dahak’s energy weapons were blasts of fury that rent the molecular bindings of their targets; those of the Empire were worse. They