The Genesis Saga Chapter 218

The destruction of the a’vaare’s hideous goliath of a ship’s shields did little to calm the Highest’s fury. The experints had destroyed a mothership! It turned its attention towards a live-feed of the aftermath, and its anger only grew at the sight of such precious resources floating around uselessly in space.

The a’vaare had sohow managed to lose a sizeable amount of their fleet as collateral damage during the mothership’s destruction. Watching so many enemy ships get caught in their own stupidity rely proved the gru’ul’s superiority once again. The Highest chittered as it replayed the mont on another screen beside it.

The only solace it had in such a monuntal failure was the total elimination of the a’vaare fighting near the destroyed mothership. A sizeable amount of the gru’ul units that had survived that fight, and the Highest was not one to let such a valuable opportunity go to waste.

Now that the a’vaare flagship could sustain direct damage, the Highest knew it was only a matter of ti until it won the fight. The only remaining hazard would be the many smaller enemy ships remaining.

It watched impassively as the a’vaare fired their inferior weaponry in vain, their attempts to damage the remaining mothership nothing less than an utter failure. It focused its attention back to the remaining commander drone. “Have you contained the breaches?” it asked.

“Yes, Highest,” the commander drone replied. “We have lost much of our auxiliary capacities after sealing the vents in the affected areas. The death of every drone in the contaminated sections has been confird. More have expired due to lack of air.”

The Highest had been expecting such a report but remained unsatisfied with the obvious results. The forced diversion of breathable air in order to prevent the orange chemical from spreading ant less resources to work with. “Unfortunate,” it said. “How much of the crew remain operational?” it asked.

“Thirty percent,” the commander drone responded, entirely unphased by the steep loss of its soldiers. “The main weapons systems remain untouched,” it reported.

“Excellent,” the Highest rumbled. “I will now determine the best approach to ending this foolishness.” It promptly proceeded to run a multitude of complex calculations in a matter of monts, quickly arriving at an estimate on how long it would take the remaining experints to succumb to the swarm’s might. It double checked its work and adjusted several paraters to be more in line with how it expected the fight to unfold. Soon, it had an acceptable ti-fra before the a’vaare’s defeat.

The Highest proceeded to direct the command drone on how best to deploy their remaining resources. It would settle for nothing less than the most optimal outco. Seconds stretched into minutes as the flagship beca increasingly damaged. It wasn’t long until it ceased its attacks entirely.

The result exceeded the Highest’s projected tiline, leaving it satisfied at its superiority over its lessers. So pleased was it with its success that it missed the mont the flagship fired a beam of pure energy unlike any that had co before it.

The shot tore through space, annihilating every ship in its path — friend and foe alike. “Evade the attack,” the Highest ordered belatedly.

“There is no ti alter our coordinates in any aningful way, Highest,” the commander drone said. “We have assessed its strength and the shields will hold.”

re monts later, the attack impacted the mothership’s shields with the strength of a thousand suns, far exceeding the commander drone’s estimates. The shiels flared to life around the mothership before shattering like glass and allowing what remained of the piercing lance of energy through straight towards the mothership.

The commander drone was thrown off-balance by the impact rocking its ship and stumbled before catching itself. It and the Highest paused, trying to comprehend the latest developnt. The drone relayed the cursory damage report to the Highest, informing it that a quarter of the ship was simply missing, erased from existence by the attack.

Sothing inside the Highest snapped. “Fire the world breaker,” it screeched. Its anger was so absolute that even the emotionless commander drone flinched. “I want their ashes turned to glass.”

***

“Our main weapons are nearly destroyed, War Commander!” a soldier yelled. “They can only fire one more ti before failing.”

Cyrix’s heart thundered in his chest. The flagship was in a total disarray. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined it taking such heavy damage. Half of his remaining fleet now covered the rear, leaving him severely limited in his ability to attack.

No matter how he analyzed it, they were fighting a losing battle.

Cyrix couldn’t afford to show any weakness before his troops, for his strong aura was the only thing keeping his crew together as they slowly put together the fact that they would most likely die during the fight. A deep, intense hatred burned in the depths of his soul. The gru’ul were the cause a death toll never before seen in any conflict in any faction’s recorded history. The Great Wars were but a pale shadow of the atrocities committed in pursuit of perfection.

Cyrix feared for Verilia. Every second spent fighting here ant more innocent people were dying back ho. He shuddered at the thought, hoping dearly that Nessah had a handle on the situation. Before he could dwell any longer on the topic, an explosion from inside the flagship shuddered the entire structure. Cyrix clamped down on his command chair’s arm rests to keep from hurtling of his seat and onto the floor.

So of his soldiers weren’t as lucky, but they quickly picked themselves up and returned to their stations. “Soldier,” Cyrix said sharply to an analyst on his left, “give a status report. What happened?”

“Our warp drive was destroyed!” the soldier cried out. “Our engines are heavily damaged and are all but useless now.”

Cyrix couldn’t keep from swearing at his misfortune. “How did this happen?” he asked. “What are the soldiers covering our rear doing?”

“There’s too many gru’ul for them to properly defend us,” another soldier replied. “It looks like we were hit by a coordinated series of attacks targeting our engines directly.”

Cyrix bit back an angry retort, knowing it wasn’t the scout’s fault that they’d taken such heavy damage. “Can we move at all?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Negative,” ca the response. “The best we can do is alter our trajectory slightly, but nothing significant enough to truly matter.”

Cyrix grimaced, unable to keep the expression off his face. He turned his focus back to the screens providing valuable tactical data in front of him. As calmly as he could, he searched for sothing — anything — they could do to turn the tide of the battle in their favour.

“Sir!” ca a frantic cry. “I’m picking up massive energy readings from the mothership. They’re growing stronger as we speak.”

“Send the details,” Cyrix ordered. A mont later, he was seeing the sa thing his analyst was — an energy signature so large that it could only an one thing. “They’re going to glass us,” Cyrix realized. “And we can’t even move out of the way.” A cold fear raced through him. “We’re going to die.”

There was no shadow of doubt in Cyrix’s mind about what was going to happen. “Overclock all main weapons,” Cyrix ordered, coming to a decision. “Override their safeties and ready them to fire at their maximum output!”

“But sir,” the weapons specialist sputtered, “if we do that they’ll all be destroyed! We won’t be able to fight back anymore.”

Cyrix t the soldier’s gaze with a level one of his own. “In two minutes, this ship will be destroyed,” he said calmly. “Our final contribution to the war will be clearing the path for the rest of the fleet to break through.” His tone softened as he spoke next, addressing the entirety of his crew present on the bridge with him. “It’s been an honour serving with you all,” he said. “Our ti has co, but we’re not out of the fight yet. We have one last chance to change the tides of battle in our favour, for if we don’t, all will be lost. Charge all weapons and fire upon the mothership as soon as possible. If we hit them first, we just might make a difference. Release the final payload as well towards the planet. I want everything we have in our arsenal to be fired.”

The atmosphere turned solemn as Cyrix’s soldiers ca to grips with their sudden mortality. Though it had been a pipe dream, each one of them hoped to return ho as heroes, not caskets. Still, they did as ordered and readied everything they had that could be fired.

When the signal ca that all weapons were being charged, Cyrix opened a channel to address every soldier in the fleet. “This is War Commander Cyrix speaking,” he said firmly. “In one minute, the flagship will be destroyed. On my signal, all remaining units are to enter hyperspace and go to the location I have just sent to you. Charge the planet and release your payload. Do your best to survive, for you are our final hope.

“We have one last chance to stop these monsters,” he continued. “In doing so, we will beco the very thing evil we went to war against. The gru’ul created the worst chemical possible. It is only fitting they die by it as well. Make no mistake, we are no heroes. We are the damned. Our actions will condemn an entire planet to untold suffering. That is a stain on my soul I am willing to bear, for it is the only way to protect those we hold dear. Victory at all costs,” he finished. “No matter the cost.”

An alert inford him that all weapons were ready. He gave the signal for the rest of the fleet avoid the incoming destruction and watched in satisfaction as his soldiers disappeared from the fight one after another in rapid succession.

“All weapons, fire,” Cyrix said, giving his final command. He watched with grim satisfaction as the full might of his faction rained hell upon his foes. He ensured the shots went wide to remain out of the way from the gru’ul’s attack, lest they be destroyed alongside him.

At the sa ti, a brilliant blue beam shot from the mothership, expanding as it closed in on the flagship. Cyrix did not look away from it. He did not flinch as he stared death in the eyes. He stood tall and saluted his crew one final ti for their ultimate sacrifice, his eyes brimming with tears and pride. For a heartbeat, he thought of Verilia — of the world he would never see rebuilt or go ho to. Regret coursed through him, even though he knew it was for the best.

Cyrix’s world turned a brilliant white before going black.

Forever.

***

Iral’s ship dropped out of hyperspace at the coordinates War Commander Cyrix had ordered them to. She order her ship to turn around to take in a visual of the flagship, unwilling to believe Cyrix’s final words that he would be destroyed. Even from the distance they were, the exchange of attacks between the flagship and the mother ship was a beacon. Iral and her team watched with bated breath as both attacks struck true.

Two cataclysmic explosions lit up the surrounding space like a supernova.

Iral and her crew scread out in pain from the blinding light. “Black out the windows!” Iral scread, clutching her watery eyes. She didn’t know who was responsible, but the sudden plunge into darkness was a welco relief.

The entire battlefield paused at the display of primal destruction that had occurred. It was the only mont of respite Iral and her team had known since they’d arrived in the gru’ul ho system. Iral took advantage of it to blink away the blindness as her vision slowly returned to her.

“Mia, give a visual on the flagship, now!” Iral ordered.

“On it,” Mia responded.

A new screen appeared, visible to the entire crew. They collectively gasped. The flagship was gone, replaced by the void of empty space as though it had never been. All that was left was the debris, scattering away from the epicenter of the explosion at a blinding pace. Mia switched the visual to the enemy mothership, confirming that it had been destroyed in the sa manner.

Tears welled in Iral’s eyes. There was nothing left to show for their final bastion of safety. “How many enemy ships survived?” she croaked, dreading the answer.

“Remarkably few,” Mia confird. “Most of them were caught in the blast. We have enough ships left to overpower them now.”

Realization dawned on Iral. War Commander Cyrix had made full use of his imminent death to deal the crippling blow they needed to win the war. She ca to an imdiate decision and hailed all ships in the vicinity. “This is Captain Iral,” she stated. “We have confird the death of War Commander Cyrix. Given the lack of superiors, I’m taking command of the operation. The gru’ul haven’t recovered yet from the attack. This is our last chance to win. I’m ordering all units to rush the planet and deliver your payload. Iral out,” she finished. “You heard !” she shouted. “Mia, get us moving. Mohr, take command of the weapons. Your job is to keep us alive long enough to reach the planet.”

The ship lurched as Mia accelerated towards the planet as fast as she could. Mohr imdiately brought up the weapons system and shared it with another teammate. He knew he would need help managing their defense and readily delegated so of the work. Anything to buy them enough ti to make the gru’ul pay for what they’d done.

Iral’s ship making course directly for the planet spurred the remainder of the fleet into action. Monts later, they too charged.

Iral’s decision not to tarry was the only thing keeping her ahead of the gru’ul, who were dropping out of hyperspace to intercept them. She kept an eye on the ship’s scans, monitoring the state of the fleet.

They approached the planet, and Iral ca to another decision. She predicted that the others would not have the ti to make it to the planet to release their bombs. They were losing too many people to be effective if they continued on their path. She called up her screen and issued new orders. “All units, fire your payload towards the atmosphere. We’re close enough now that they shouldn’t be able to intercept it all.” She ended the transmission and focused on Mohr. “Mohr, fire on my mark,” she said.

Mohr diligently activated the systems governing their payload and confird that he was ready. Iral waited several more seconds — just enough to close the gap between them and the planet a bit more. The mont she received confirmation that everything had locked onto their target. She gave the command.

“Fire!” Iral ordered.

All at once, every bomb and missile containing the orange chemical launched from their silos. The salvo grew larger as it was joined by the final attack of the remaining fleet. “All ships, abandon course and retreat,” Iral ordered, not waiting to see if their attacks landed. She would have her answer soon, knowing that Mia was keeping a careful eye on them. “Take out as many gru’ul as you can. Once we have confirmation of our success, enter hyperspace and return back to Verilia.”

“Mia,” Iral continued once she ended her transmission, “have War Commander Cyrix’s attacks landed yet?”

“I’m monitoring their signatures now,” Mia replied. “They’re set to arrive in thirty seconds.”

“Good,” Iral said grimly. An alert chid beside her. They were under attack. “Mia, shake the gru’ul tailing us and get ready to retreat back ho. Mohr, will our shields hold out long enough?”

“Negative,” Mohr responded quickly. “We only have two minutes until they fail.”

“That’s enough ti,” Iral said. “Mia, keep us safe for two minutes before retreating.” She needed to know if the rest of the fleet’s payload reached the planet or not, and according to her estimates, she would find out if they were successful before leaving the gru’ul system.

“They hit!” Mia suddenly cried out. “A third of War Commander Cyrix’s payload successfully hit the planet.”

“Will it be enough?” Iral asked calmly.

“If our attacks land, yes,” Mia confird. Silence blanketed the crew as they focused their concentration on surviving. Celebrations would co only if they lived. Each second felt like hours to them as Mia swerved the ship as best she could to avoid the incoming attacks.

“Our shields are down, Captain,” Mohr cried out, breaking the silence. “An incoming strike is imminent.”

“Hold,” Iral ordered, her attention focused on the final payload.

“Captain, we’re not going to make it!” Mohr scread in a panic.

Iral’s focus remained glued to her screen, her heart hamring in her chest. All she needed was a few more seconds. An alert chid, and the feedback from their weapons she was waiting for ca in. “Retreat!” Iral scread, knowing it was ti to leave.

They disappeared into hyperspace right before the incoming shot landed, bloodthirsty smiles plastered on each person’s face. Their final visual was a cloud of orange slowly spreading in the atmosphere.

They’d done it.

They’d won.

***

The Highest stared numbly at the readings before it. Both motherships, destroyed. Most of the swarm, decimated. Worst yet, the a’vaare had slipped out of its grasp, gone as though they’d never been. All that was left of the mighty battle that had been waged were massive pockets of orange crystals and ruined debris orbiting its planet.

The Highest had failed.

With so many of its resources depleted during the fight, the swarm had been unable to fully repel the a’vaare’s final attack. Such a thing was unfathomable to the Highest. The experints should have been easily destroyed. Such was their purpose.

Yet, it had failed.

The thought resounded in its mind, a poison it would never be rid of. Alerts popped into existence one after another, each one demanding its attention, but the Highest couldn’t be bothered. It already knew their contents. It spared a glance and confird its fears.

The atmosphere had been hit by such an absurd amount of the orange chemical that it would soon scatter among the winds until it was everywhere. The Highest knew of no technology that could capture the chemical and remove it from the air. There would be no avoiding it.

A new screen appeared, one that couldn’t be ignored. The Highest’s pulse quickened and it chittered nervously. The Queen was calling, surely to demand answers. Reluctantly, the Highest accepted the incoming transmission.

A massive gru’ul, wise and ancient appeared before the Highest. She was the most beautiful thing it had ever laid eyes on. On her chest was the most regal badge of all. The one all gru’ul admired and obeyed. “Highest,” the Queen demanded, “explain why my mighty swarm no longer exists.”

“The experints destroyed it,” the Highest started.

A screech of abject anger resounded in the lab. “Such a thing is impossible!” the Queen scread. “You are a failure. Not only did you manage to lose, you also allowed untold quantities of a lethal substance into the atmosphere. Soon, all gru’ul will be breathing it. How do you intend to rectify the situation?”

“I cannot, my Queen,” the Highest cowered. “There is no ti to develop the instrunts necessary before we all perish.”

“You have ruined us. You are no Highest. You are impure,” the Queen said, passing its judgent. “Remove your badge for you are unworthy of such stature. No longer shall you be one of us. Such is my will.”

Panic seized the Highest. “Without my badge, I am nothing!” it exclaid. “I have earned my right to wear it.” One of its arms reached for the badge and it clutched it tightly. It could not lose it. It would not.

“And now you have lost it,” the Queen replied. “You are no gru’ul. Your flaws have dood us all. Now remove it.”

The Highest trembled as its claws gripped the badge. Gingerly, it tore it from its chest. It stared down at its bare chest with disgust and resentnt. Its thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a scream so shrill that it could only an one thing. Snapping its gaze back to its Queen, it saw her surroundings covered in a haze of orange. The Queen no longer paid it any attention, so focused was she on the agony that enveloped her.

Ti passed until the Queen toppled over, expired. The call ended abruptly.

A blaring siren alerted the occupants of the facility of a breach. The now naless gru’ul stared at the fine orange mist flowing from the vents on the ceiling, realizing too late that it had forgotten to seal them. It trembled in fear as the toxic cloud closed in. There was no ti to escape. In re seconds, it was enveloped by it.

It breathed in.

And lost all sense of self to the all-consuming pain as its world turned white.