War with the Forerunners. 110,000 years before the main events. The ship Boundless Will.
Space is vast and empty. Planets, stars, and galaxies are 99.999% filled with cosmic void. Thousands and millions of worlds, dots in an empty infinity. Most of these dots are uninhabited but carry all the resources necessary for a growing empire. But even those that can be used for life are quite sufficient.
The galaxy is huge; there is enough room for everyone. In theory. And even in such conditions, sentient species begin to conflict with one another. For example, over habitable worlds. For political reasons. Or when they try to devour you. The human empire settled one of the galactic arms around the capital world of Charum Hakkor and the cradle of civilization, the planet Erda.
Of course, it wasn't humanity alone. Our loyal allies, the San'Shyuum—striving for a comfortable, leisurely life, humanoid xenos with long necks and limbs—also provided what help they could in this difficult endeavor. All for the sake of staying away from the galactic hegemon, the Forerunner Ecumene. An empire occupying most of the galaxy and many species. And they don't like humans much, considering them aggressive racists.
And then The Flood happened. A parasite that assimilates entire planets. What is most disgusting is that by absorbing specialists, they do not lose their skills. Thus, The Flood quickly acquired an army and a fleet. Even a small number of parasites landing on a planet are capable of quickly consuming the entire population and moving on. And further. And again. An unstoppable wave of flesh. Even the total glassing of life only delays the end but does not help to win.
Too fast, too little time. And humanity had to retreat in the only possible direction to avoid being eaten. Toward the Forerunner Ecumene, who were definitely not happy about this intrusion. They were furious. A war on two fronts began. One that we are losing. One from which humanity might go extinct. But there is no better solution. I, Councilor 18-436, know this.
***
The interstellar void of space was torn by the flash of a ship exiting Slipspace. Elongated around a main weapon, a matter accelerator, with a rectangular horizontal hull featuring a fin on the bow and two on the stern, the ship was heavily deformed.
One didn't need to be a specialist to understand: it had been in battle and was severely damaged. Asymmetry, breaches, part of its elements clearly missing. The light of the engines was uneven, as if flickering out from time to time. Even so, this multi-kilometer giant commanded respect.
It had participated in the battle with the Forerunners at Nrai-Taas. And it was one of the few that managed to retreat. The world was lost, burned to zero. The Forerunners do not stand on ceremony with those who dare to attack the Ecumene. The Mantle of Responsibility, so they say. The status of judge and protector of the galaxy. Except they wouldn't even listen about The Flood. Hypocrites. It's easier for them to excise humanity than to start listening.
But humanity will not surrender without a fight. Both the San'Shyuum and the Artificial Intelligences support them in this. Inside the damaged ship, the few survivors try to maintain the functioning of the systems that still work. Among them is the Captain, a tall man in black metallic power armor. A blue-eyed blond, with another dozen men and women of the human species at the consoles. From time to time, crackling sounds erupt in various places, sparks fly, and technicians engage in urgent repairs. They are assisted by small robots capable of reaching the narrowest spots without the need to disassemble everything.
Looking at the projection of the ship on one of the screens, the Captain frowned. There were too many dark areas with no signals at all and markers for damage. This included the structural frame and power conduits. One of the hits had pierced the hull right through, damaging the most vital nodes. Atmosphere still exists, but the energy accumulation for weapons, engines, and the structural frame clearly needed repairs at a shipyard. And that was a huge problem, in truth. The man turned to a stand in the corner of the bridge.
"Councilor 18-436. Khaela? Report."
One of the spheres lying in the corner took flight, trying not to disturb the bridge crew, and hovered before the Captain. A flash of light, and the projector manifested the hologram of the ship's AI. Who came up with the idea to give the AI the image of a woman with beast-like features and five tails is unknown. In any case, the image was good. Five tails, a calm, searching gaze. Not too young, so as not to cause discomfort for the crew. A closed purple dress without a deep neckline to avoid provoking unnecessary thoughts. At the same time, a total absence of shoes or armor—also a psychological move. Long arms and a thin face, eyes devoid of pupils. Defenseless, yet not quite human. Originally, there were pupils, but Khaela herself made the adjustment to the avatar, which makes looking her in the eye somewhat uncomfortable, as if you are falling into them. And she clearly likes that most interlocutors look away. But not the Captain.
Meeting his gaze and holding a three-second pause, she spoke in a voice that seemed to contain a dozen voices of different tones:
"Reporting. The general state of systems includes extensive damage ranging from medium to critical levels. We are deprived of seventy percent of medium-caliber weaponry and ninety percent of small-caliber. Half of the shield projectors are lost and cannot be replaced; multiple decompressions. Seventy percent of the crew is lost or missing, excluding the combat watch. The combat watch is not at full strength. Energy is flowing into systems at a third of nominal levels. Combat readiness is at..."
The Captain raised a hand, interrupting her.
"I know all this, Khaela. Start directly with the main problems."
Yes, a bit blunt. But this information was clear from the ship's status screen hanging right there, and what wasn't clear could be learned through other means. He needed to know just how bad everything was. Of course, in front of the crew, this would be a breach of subordination, but in the case of an AI, such a thing was forgivable. Besides, Khaela and I have known each other for nearly a decade. The vixen looked at the map. Yes, the ship was originally heading toward one of the home worlds, but we were ejected with a significant offset. Along all three vectors. The vixen looked calmly at the map for about a second, then replied:
"Damage to the main power bus, Captain Trihakos. Power supply to the most energy-intensive systems is unstable. A hit from a Forerunner matter accelerator practically severed it, then the emergency jump exacerbated the situation. Permission to speak plainly?"
This news caused whispers on the bridge. Not that they didn't know, but the full picture was available only to the technical specialists, of whom at best a quarter survived. And they simply couldn't be everywhere at once. On the other hand, the AI has a staff of drones to find out such things. The Captain nodded to the AI, adding a comment:
"Go on, Khaela, finish it."
She nodded and, with all the directness characteristic of an AI, stated:
"We will not make it home. The bus is burned out. The attempt to destroy the Forerunner cruiser while acting defensively only made things worse. We damaged the cruiser, but their protection is better than ours for a sustained artillery duel. The bus will burn out completely after one more battle or two to three jumps. Now we have a simple choice, Captain: either use the remaining resources to try and reach a world, or accept battle."
Accept battle. We aren't in the best condition to fight against a pursuing cruiser. But, presumably, things are even worse with the engines. Which is what the approaching first officer, Takaeshi, asked.
"Khaela, why do you consider accepting battle an effective outcome?"
She summoned a projection of the ship. A few waves of her palms and most of the error messages disappeared, leaving only the main weapon, the matter accelerator.
"The main weapon is still functioning. There are energy problems, but I can catch the ship as it exits Slipspace and conduct a precision shot. With a 68% probability, I can disable the enemy, considering the previously inflicted damage. A repeated accelerator attack from our side is unlikely; the maneuvering thrusters are damaged, making it hard to turn the hull. But there are turrets. If the enemy loses power for their shields, we can inflict damage. The chances of victory are about forty percent."
The Captain nodded.
"And if we try to jump?"
The AI snapped her fingers, changing the image of the ship to a map. Of course, snapping wasn't necessary, but some genius decided that linking certain actions of the ship's AI to gestures and words made them clearer and created an illusion of control. So Khaela changes images with waves of her hands, taps her finger on her cheek during a search, and brushes her tails in standby mode. In any case, a map of the region appeared now, with a star system marked as a lonely dot.
"This is the nearest inhabited world to us. This," a small yellow sphere appeared around the dot, "is the radius in which escape pods can reach the world before the crew inside perishes. This," an orange circle the size of a large ball compared to the practically invisible yellow sphere, "is the space in which we might be ejected given the current state of the main bus and engine. We have at best three attempts. The probability of success is at the level of statistical error. We won't return in any case. However, you are still the Captain," she added with an ironic smirk.
Now was not the time for jokes.
"And our pursuer won't fall behind, obviously."
The vixen nodded.
"He will be here very soon. We have about ten minutes. I am detecting primary traces of Slipspace drive operation, Captain. We've been found."
And here was the question. A tiny chance of survival or destroying the enemy, but with no chance of surviving themselves. She didn't say it, of course, but the Forerunner ship would be able to track us. And when the drive dies, we'll just be shot on the spot. The only chance for a successful retreat is if we are lucky enough to jump right to the planet, under the protection of orbital defenses and the fleet. The Forerunners won't poke their noses in. So, one more question.
"How many jumps can we make to use our own accelerator?"
The vixen slightly puffed out her cheeks and tapped her finger against one, indicating information search and analysis. If you think about it, such reactions are indeed convenient. The Captain looked around to see that the entire bridge was quietly following the conversation. Expectedly—a choice on which their lives depended right now. Well? Khaela straightened up.
"One in the best-case scenario. But I don't guarantee it; the damage is too extensive, Captain. The energy consumption for the accelerator is significantly higher; it's difficult to ensure sufficient power. Practically impossible."
Captain Trihakos nodded.
"Then we make one jump. Then, in case of failure, we turn around and give battle. We are working with statistical errors anyway. Let's give the crew a chance. After that, whatever happens, happens. It's the best we have."
The Forerunner ship exiting the jump managed to fire only a few volleys, taken on the shields, before the cruiser jumped. More vertical, with rounded forms, the ship was also clearly damaged and had breaches, but far fewer than its target. The escorts had been destroyed, but the Captain was sure the enemy wouldn't escape. Especially since his ship needed much less time for a jump. Next time, they wouldn't be going anywhere.
***
The next exit from Slipspace was marked for the human ship by flickering engines and unstable lighting. Several screens went dark. Khaela exhaled, looking at the damage received. She does love humans, after all.
"We have decompressions along the hull; the main bus is preparing to go to the gods of The Hand; accumulating energy for the next jump attempt will take an hour. Captain," she emphasized the last word with some sarcasm.
The first officer looked at the vixen with unconcealed indignation.
"Are we far from the world? And what are you doing without an order?"
The ship jolted, showing the work of the maneuvering thrusters beginning to turn the hull. And the fact that just now two more had exploded instead of working normally. But at the same time, looking at the status screen, it was clear that the vectors were very uneven. We are barely turning. The best option for battle, yes. But we work with what we have. The Captain approached the map just in time to hear:
"Executing the Captain's order, XO, accepting battle. As for the location? We are here," she replied, showing the same map with the yellow and orange spheres.
The ship's dot turned out to be much closer to the planet, but significantly to the side. We overshot. The Captain remained silent. Red alert mode wasn't initiated; the AI does not have the authority to command the crew bypassing the Captain and does not do so. But she can control the main weapon, the matter accelerator. And thus maneuver even without a direct order to maneuver. This colossal gun runs almost the entire length of the hull, and for aiming, it requires the rotation of the entire ship. And this limits its use at short distances or in conditions where maneuvering thrusters are destroyed completely or partially. You simply won't have time to turn toward the target. The speed at which the ship is turning only confirms the instrument readings; we will have exactly one attack. Then the Forerunner ship will begin maneuvering, come into our flank, and destroy us. If we miss.
"How much time until the enemy arrives?"
"Three minutes, Captain," the AI noted, continuing to mimic the turning of a steering wheel with smooth movements.
Right now, Khaela is actively waving all her upper limbs, including her tails. I've never seen this before; presumably, it's because she is currently directing all engines to the vector where the enemy ship will exit. Usually, there is a team for this, but not when your maneuvering thrusters start exploding from the slightest overload. One must act with extreme care. So, let's begin.
"Battle stations, full status report."
The alarm buzzers started. The map changed back to the ship's schematic with damage markers. The crew, those still alive, are at their posts. And may The Hand help us.
"Decompressions liquidated, sir," reported a technician.
"Weapons charging, sir, we will be ready," and then more quietly added, almost whispered, "Everything that's left."
The Captain looked around. These people are depressed. It's understandable; no one wants to die. But they all heard Khaela, and there's no point in lying now. So, the intercom—he needed to say a few words. For those who weren't on the bridge. It wasn't easy; the Captain is young, after all, less than a hundred years old. The war with the Forerunners took many, and becoming a cruiser captain is much easier than it used to be. Not to mention the front with the parasite, where everything is even worse.
Rumor has it that against the parasite, they deploy obedient but not too bright crews, as the parasite knows how to subvert them. Lies, probably. Controlling a ship is a complex task. There can't be idiots there. The Captain, of course, did not consider himself an idiot. But when you need to say something to the crew in a clearly hopeless situation, it takes more than a flexible mind. The Captain sighed and began to speak:
"This is Captain Trihakos. We have taken critical damage and will engage the enemy in a few minutes. The ship's AI is certain she can destroy them. And we will do it. The Forerunners must not report the inhabited world we are moving toward,"—and which we will never reach—"even if we have to perish today. And we will do it. Together. Now. We simply have no other choice. There is no good news either."
Finishing his speech, the Captain turned to the first officer and the ship's AI. And while the officer saluted, the AI just gave an indefinite wave of her hand, showing "well, you did it. Could have been better."
"So, Khaela?"
The map changed again; now it was the status screen and tactical schematic. Here was the ship's marker, opposite the assumed exit vector of the Forerunner ship. Assumed, because it would have some offset. But if we can still turn five degrees, we might not have time for fifteen.
"I am charging the accelerator. Weapons deployed, shields up. We won't be able to maintain this level of energy for long, so our only chance for success is a lucky shot from the main battery. Time until enemy arrival is about a minute. Charging the shot will take two; considering the turn, it should be enough."
"Two minutes. Long, but on what we have, nothing more can be squeezed out, sir," the engineer commented.
As if I don't trust the AI's words. Although, they are worried too, so we'll do without comments.
"One minute until charged. Contact!"
A short flash appeared ahead, from which the Forerunner ship emerged. Elongated forward and vertical, the front part resembled a coiled round shell with an accelerator at the bottom. Almost immediately, the first volleys rang out. The ships noticed each other and began turning for the attack.
Boundless Will started earlier; on the other hand, the Forerunner ship is faster. Hits began to spread across the shields of both ships, but also exploded, tearing out chunks of the hull. A sign that the projectors of both ships are not working at full power.
"Four degrees. Three. Two..."
The ship shuddered; alarms appeared along with new markers on the status screen. Another battery down. Very close.
"They are accelerating!"
The Forerunner ship began to speed up faster, clearly trying to move off the line of fire.
"Force engine three! Fire when ready!"
The main engine spat out a stream of energy, beginning to rapidly turn the ship toward the enemy. The Captain almost flew out of his chair from this impulse; hissing and screams were heard. The compensation system, it seemed, had failed. The vibration is getting stronger, the hits more frequent.
"Volley."
A white-blue beam of energy connected the two ships in a single line. The consequences caught both. On the human ship, shields and power went out completely. The Forerunner ship was sliced at an angle halfway through the hull, followed by an explosion. A second of silence on the bridge was replaced by joyful ovations.
"Yesssssss!"
And the fact that the normal lighting was gone changed nothing. The backup system is still supplying power to the control systems. The Forerunner ship didn't fall apart, but visible hull deformation appeared at the site of the explosion; it almost snapped. Allowing himself a smile, the Captain loudly ordered:
"At ease! Close in and attack. The enemy is not yet destroyed."
Now that the enemy has no more shields, it will be much easier to do. Presumably, their power situation is now even worse than ours. The vixen AI, with a predatory smile, holding her fingers in a frame, was making corrections to the fire control system. She absolutely hates the Forerunners.
***
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