The Genesis Saga Chapter 217

Cyrix grimaced from his command chair on the flagship. The battle had begun in earnest, and the casualties were slowly increasing. Every one of them ant a good a’vaare had perished. Pushing past the mass death he was responsible for, Cyrix found solace that the gru’ul had fallen for his trap.

The trick of entering hyperspace to dodge attacks was only ever going to work once and it had done a splendid job at further distancing the enemy’s forces from one another. The battle was now waged on three distinct fronts around the planet, with each one completely isolated. Cyrix doubted the gru’ul had even noticed. Now, reinforcing any given front ant risking the loss of another. The stage was set, and all that was left was to bring the gru’ul to their knees.

Cyrix spent the following hour directing his forces to whittle away at the gru’ul’s defenses. Each enemy ship destroyed ant one less to prevent the final payload from entering the atmosphere. Every single ship had been equipped with enough of the orange chemical that it sickened Cyrix. He hated that the war had co to the point where committing the ultimate sin was their only salvation.

Perhaps, he mused idly, in an alternate world peace had been achieved between the races. But Cyrix was forced to admit that he did not live in such a fantasy. No, his was hell and that ant they could no longer play by the rules. Not that there had been any to begin with.

The biggest impedint to bombing the planet were the motherships. They contained powerful weapons that were carving through swaths of a’vaare ships, whittling down their forces at a rate that worried Cyrix greatly. Even though he knew that the initial scouting reports had most likely understated the extent of the enemy’s forces, Cyrix hadn’t been prepared for just how big of a difference there truly was.

Cyrix called out to his analysts on the bridge with him to identify any potential weaknesses the motherships might have. He knew they didn’t have much ti before they would decimate their offense, rendering their attack all but useless.

“Their shields are weaker than ours are, sir,” one analyst yelled out. “If we deal enough damage to them, we should be able to break them and hit the motherships directly.”

“What about the individual ships? How much of a threat do they pose to our fleet?” Cyrix asked.

“Moderate,” the analyst replied. “Our shields can fend off several direct hits before failing. I estimate that the enemy shields can only survive one hit before they are destroyed.”

“Good,” Cyrix said with a grim satisfaction. He was glad that their hard work studying gru’ul technology had paid off. Maraz’s team had truly worked wonders with their shield prototypes, for they were edge that just might win them the war.

Cyrix surveyed the battlefield and ca to a decision. “Attention all units,” he ordered, “focus your fire directly on the motherships. Destroy their shields at all costs while avoiding as much damage as possible. If we can disable them, we just might have a chance at victory.”

His soldiers fought with a renewed frenzy. Cyrix ordered his larger bombers and war ships to fire in tangent with one another to ensure a constant barrage on the motherships’ shields. His goal wasn’t to destroy the motherships, but to disable them instead. And he knew of just the perfect weapon that would do so once inside. All they needed was a single opportunity.

At his command, all ships fired on the both motherships, ignoring the individual units in the swarm directly. Many soldiers perished, but the barrage continued uninterrupted. The price in blood broke Cyrix’s heart, but still he ordered his troops to persist.

After what felt like an eternity, one of the motherships faltered. The shimring blue force field surrounding it flared in defiance one last ti before crumbling into pieces, leaving the it completely undefended. The mothership was caught out in the open and like chum in the water, it was a beacon to its enemies.

Cyrix jumped on the chance. “All units nearest the broken mothership, engage!” he shouted.

Rather than pepper the enemy from a safe distance, many of Cyrix’s soldiers rushed forward with reckless abandon, eager to inflict death and destruction upon their sworn enemy. They had all lost friends and family to the monsters before them and desperately wanted to return the favour. They knew not whether the gru’ul even understood the concept of a family, but they didn’t care.

As one, they charged. As one, they fired. As one, they perished, but not before landing enough blows to bring the gru’ul to their knees and beg for rcy. Those brave soldiers would never know the sweet screams of their enemies, but as one they imagined it as their ships exploded and their vision turned black.

***

The Highest studied the fighting, puzzled by the irrational actions the experints were taking. Taking out a mothership was pure folly, but still they focused their fire upon them. An alert on one of the many screens floating around its head stole its attention.

“Our shields have been destroyed,” one of the commander drones stated. “They assault our vessel as we speak in great numbers.”

The commander had stated the obvious, but the Highest did not rebuke it. It remained silent as one third of the enemy fleet entered a frenzy, charging the damaged mothership without any heed to their lives. Such an action was illogical. There was no way for the experints to truly take out a mothership when it was so well-defended.

Ship after ship t the sa fate of being annihilated by the might of the swarm, as was only natural. Debris from destroyed a’vaare ships soon littered the space surrounding space the mothership. The faintly shimring remnants of their enemies brought pleasure to the Highest. It rejoiced in seeing its lessers hamstrung by their own stupidity. If the a’vaare sought to expedite the process of losing the fight, then it would leave them to their own devices and watch them pay for their easily avoidable mistakes.

“Highest,” the sa commander drone interrupted, “I am receiving reports of orange crystals forming near the experints’ destroyed ships. Scans indicated that there is a large presence of an unknown substance within each of their ships.”

The Highest imdiately paused its celebration. Sure enough, the battlefield near the disabled mothership was increasingly being covered in an orange haze. Its thoughts spun furiously for but a mont as it put together what the substance was. It called up a screen and sent the molecular compound of the orange chemical to the commander drone. “Is this the chemical identified in your scans?” the Highest asked.

There was a brief pause while the commander drone analyzed the new data. “Yes,” it stated. “they are an exact match.”

The Highest clicked in confusion. “The experints do not have access to the technology required to produce this chemical. How have they obtained so much of it?” it screeched. “We removed their ability to obtain this technology when we recaptured the research facility.”

“I do not know, Highest,” the commander drone replied. “It does not change the fact that they have access to it now. Is it of any consequence?”

“No,” the Highest decided. “Continue to destroy their ships. We will harvest the excess of the chemical once the battle is finished and deploy it against their populace before glassing them.”

The commander drone did not have the ti to respond before a warning stole its attention. “There has been a breach,” it said. It knew there was nothing to worry about for the hull would repair itself shortly.. Following procedure, it sealed part of the mothership to localize the damage during repairs.

No sooner had it done so, dozens more reports flooded its vision, each one indicating another breach. Nonplussed, it relayed the information to the Highest and promptly sealed the mothership. Job done, it returned its attention to the ongoing battle, only to be disturbed by another alert.

“Highest,” the commander drone said, “our ventilation systems have been hit. I am receiving reports of an orange substance flooding various parts of the ship.” It typed on its spectral keyboard and sent the Highest a data packet containing an audiovisual of the gru’ul in the affected zones.

The Highest carefully watched the gru’ul aboard the ship scream sounds it did not think a gru’ul was physically capable of producing. Each gru’ul invariably expired after being exposed to the orange chemical. Clinically, it noted that they all expired after the sa duration post exposure.

“Map where the chemical has infiltrated and seal off the vents,” the Highest ordered.

“It is too late,” the commander drone replied. “The ship’s ventilation system is compromised. Sealing off the vents would condemn all gru’ul onboard.”

The Highest’s anger ca roaring back. “Then such shall be their fates. So long as you remain to operate the mothership, we will be able to destroy the a’vaare fleet,” it screeched and clicked. In the corner of the screen, it noted a faint orange haze near the ceiling.

The Highest could only watch helplessly as the commanding crew of the disabled mothership breathed in the orange chemical and expired in the sa grisly fashion as the rest of the gru’ul aboard. Its previous anger evaporated as though it had never been. In its place crept an existential dread at the realization that every single a’vaare ship was ard with the orange chemical and that they were making ground towards the planet.

Understanding dawned on it and it knew that the a’vaare must not reach the atmosphere, lest they disperse enormous quantities of the orange chemical in it. The Highest imdiately reassessed the threat the a’vaare posed and it did not like its conclusions. Its thoughts spun furiously as it created new plans for the ongoing fight to eradicate the a’vaare.

“Highest,” the remaining commander drone interrupted. “We’ve been breached.”

***

Cyrix heaved a sigh of relief. They’d actually done it. One of the motherships had been hit by many doses of the orange chemical, which he was sure would wreak havoc on the personnel inside. It hadn’t fired any of its weapons since being hit, which he took as a good sign. Not one to take chances, he imdiately brought up a screen to contact the fleet commander in charge of that side of the front.

“Fleet Captain Kinhe,” Cyrix said the mont the call was accepted, “give a status report.”

Kinhe gave a quick salute before speaking. “The swarm is in disarray here,” he said. “They’re no longer acting as coordinated units. Their formations are a ss compared to earlier. It’s easy pickings.” Though the gru’ul were many, such a vast force required proper organization in order to be truly effective. “I believe we managed to hit the command structure on the mothership. Hopefully, we managed to kill them all.”

Cyrix nodded. “Excellent news. However, I don’t want to take any chances. Direct all of the frigates under your command to open fire on the mothership with their main weapons. I want that thing destroyed and removed from the equation permanently.”

“Understood,” Kinhe saluted. His eyes flicked towards a screen that Cyrix couldn’t see. “More gru’ul are appearing in our location according to our scans,” he said quickly. “They’re bigger than their standard fighter units.” He paused as he read another update from one of his analysts. “The gru’ul are becoming more coordinated in their approach. Those ships are probably there to command the local fleet. Should I eliminate them first?” he asked.

Cyrix thought for a brief mont. “How long until the frigates are in position?” he asked.

“A matter of minutes,” Kinhe replied. “I estimate no more than five before we’re ready to open fire.”

“Focus on destroying the mothership,” Cyrix replied. “I don’t want them to access the resources onboard. Have our soldiers distract the gru’ul and once it’s destroyed, focus on taking out whatever you believe is commanding the gru’ul in the area,” he ordered. Kinhe saluted and ended the call.

It only took a matter of monts before the frigates were on the move. Cyrix swiped the screen to the side and drew brought up the one focused on the remaining mothership that his flagship was responsible for holding off. Their shields had just gone down, and they too had been breached by the orange chemical. However, the flagship’s shields were still being battered by incoming shots from its weapons.

Clearly, the command structure hadn’t been eliminated.

Keeping an eye on Kinhe’s movents, Cyrix directed his forces to approach the remaining mothership with the hopes of destroying that one as well. If they could manage that, then the war just might be won.

Five minutes later, Fleet Captain Kinhe reported the successful destruction of the inert mothership on his side of the battlefield. It was a bittersweet announcent, for many units had been too close to the ship while distracting the gru’ul and had perished in the mothership’s explosion. The loss of life was so great that Kinhe also reported that he did not have enough troops left to fend off the gru’ul at that location.

Cyrix grimaced when the casualty estimates ca in and imdiately ordered the portion of the fleet engaged with the other mothership to retreat out of the expected blast radius. He ordered Kinhe to aid the front without a mothership when he saw the state of the troops fighting there.

Fleet Captain Kinhe acknowledged the order and moved his remaining troops. He suffered heavy casualties during the escape, leaving him with only two frigates and several squads as reinforcents. Cyrix’ heart sank when he realized that he had just condemned those soldiers to die, but he refused to change his orders. If even a fraction of them could break through towards the planet, then they would win.

Cyrix focused on the battle in front of him. An ergency alert chid, informing him that the remaining mothership’s shields had co back online. Cyrix swore. He’d lost his chance to take it out. Still, he knew that it had taken at least so damage since its attacks had slowed down considerably.

He left Fleet Captain Kinhe in charge of the other front while he poured all of his efforts into the battle before him. The swarm was whittling them down, and every hour that passed diminished their chances of victory.

He fired off order after order, focusing on breaching the mothership’s potent defenses while eliminating as many gru’ul as possible. Cyrix fell into a trance as he analyzed and reacted to the ever-changing battlefield.

“Sir,” a communications expert on the bridge said suddenly, interrupting Cyrix’s deep-seated focus. “We’ve lost all contact with the other front.”

Cyrix snapped to attention. “All contact?” he asked, a sick feeling churning in his gut. “Do your scans indicate any survivors?”

“Negative, War Commander,” the soldier replied. “The gru’ul there have abandoned their positions as well. They’re on their way here, according to out estimates of their last known positions.”

“Last known positions?” Cyrix asked with a frown.

“They are entering hyperspace, sir,” the soldier said. An alert chid on the holoscreen in front of her. “They’ve just dropped out of hyperspace behind us!” she exclaid.

“Our rear shields are under attack!” another soldier cried. “If we don’t stop them, they will fail!”

“Divert a portion of our troops to defend our rear,” Cyrix bellowed. “How long do we have?”

A deep rumble tore through the flagship.

“Shields are down!” the soldier said. “We’ve been hit!”

“Get those shields back online!” Cyrix ordered.

“We can’t, sir,” the soldier replied, fear lacing his voice. “They’ve been destroyed.”