Chapter Four: Antibody

The Ultimatum of Infinity didn’t get hit by the speeding sphereship. None of our ships technically got hit at all. As was explained to me later, the Arkolt ships were utterly intangible at lightspeed, making them unusable as a simple ballistic.

But after that?

The ship dropped back into space right at the same coordinates as one of our three remaining Dreadnaughts, completely covering the space it had previously sat. I have no idea if it had been effectively ‘eaten’ by the larger ship, or if it had been mashed into pieces, or if it had simply erased from existence. A common theory is that it was simply converted into a great wave of energy. The very same wave of energy about to come crashing into our ships like a tsunami made of pure concussive force.

I could only watch it arrive, gaping in horror as the closest ships were atomised by the force, whilst those further away were simply torn into pieces, and beyond that were swept up and carried outwards. The Ultimatum was thankfully far from the monstrous machine we now surrounded, but that served little comfort at the time. Our shields were pelted like hailstones in a gale, the tiniest scraps of metal, shards of ceramic, and even flecks of paint stressing our defensive capacities to the very limit, our own ships flung against us like flak. When the dispersed force of the wave hit us, we became merely rags on the wind, pushed by energy, tossing beyond the limits of our inertial dampening.

Konzor laughed as we span through empty space, his two-mouthed hysteria carried down the silent halls. I didn’t know if it was exhilaration, joy, fear, or pure unfiltered madness. I didn’t understand it, and still don’t really, but I remember it helped to remind me that we weren’t dead yet.

The wave passed quickly, our shields stretched yet unbroken, as was the Ultimatum of Infinity and the vast majority of our fleet.

Then the Titan fired again, of course. Right through the heart of another dreadnaught and two battleships. Less effective from the middle of our fleet than it had been from the outside, but the dreadnaught-displacement and the consecutive shockwave more than made up for it. Meanwhile, Konzor continued to laugh, sometimes with both mouths, sometimes with just one so the other could gulp air. Dagger glared at him, clearly still imagining the sheer catastrophe and loss of life going on outside. But he didn’t stop, like he’d die if he tried.

Finally, with a heave, the giggling stopped, and he slapped me on the back. It was the slap that brought me back to my senses. I’m not sure whether to be thankful of that fact, or not.

“What a ride!” He exclaimed, and laughed again, “what a ride!”

“Hilarious,” Dagger said, voice like a rapier, “I wonder how many people on those ships agree?”

“I never said it was funny,” Konzo raised his arms, tortured smiles still twitching on his faces, “but it was quite a ride. Can’t argue with that one, can you?”

Dagger continued to scowl, until it became apparent even to her that Konzo wasn’t wrong.

“Have we lost?” I asked, and shrank into my seat when everyone swivelled towards me like I’d sabotaged the mission.

“No,” Dagger said, “getting your ass beat isn’t quite losing. Not yet.”

Outside, the Titan seemed to have given all it could in terms of raw firepower until the next jump, and was once again enduring the Enfirnian counterattack. We were starting to see entire strips of hull detaching now, pale armour peeling to reveal the more delicate machine brain inside. In that moment I felt my heart lift a little. Our fleet had been crippled, but the Arkolt wasn’t invincible.

Which of course was the very same moment that a hundred separate pores on the Titan’s face opened up like apertures, launching no less than a thousand smaller craft. Like the machine mind was smirking at our little ships, whispering.

Dagger noticed my expression and smiled sadly without using her mouth.

“This isn’t even that bad,” she said.

Somehow, somehow, I believed her.

Before anyone could speak again, a communicator at her hip lit up and started to vibrate. I didn’t know what it meant, but it seemed to shock Dagger more than anything so far. She stared at it for a moment before finally pulling it from her belt, slowly moving it towards her face. Her mouth started to open, and the ship rang like a gong. Everything shook for a moment, far worse than the shockwave had been, but most unnerving was how quickly it all fell back to normal. Everyone stared at each other, dazed, for a few seconds. Then the siren went off, equally loud and shocking.

“Attention all personnel. Situation Alpha-nine-four. Hull-breach on level three. Repeat, this is an Alpha-nine-four.”

Konzor was faster to scrabble from his seat and put don his helmet than I was to undo a single belt buckle. Most likely a mix of my reluctance and his enthusiasm.

“Today is a good day to die,” he winked, hands almost caressing his weapon, “or even better, to live!”

Dagger was ready nearly as fast, but with zero relish, and clear disdain for Konzor’s thrill. It was interesting to me, that two soldiers (both more experienced than I) could get such different experiences from the field of war, and I didn’t know whether to put it down to differing personalities or differing experiences, or both.

“Finger off the trigger,” Dagger warned me, and I was quick to comply.

“What is it?” Konzor asked with the delighted tone of a child being told they were getting a pet.

“Intruder,” Dagger responded absently, running her hand across her grenade belt, counting under her breath.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Daggie.”

“It’s all that matters. And it’s Commander in battle.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, Commander.”

“Tell you what, I’ll transcribe the answer on your gravestone,” Dagger strode towards the front, “everyone, follow me. Folantis, watch our rear.”

“Yes Commander,” the stout Plalvian clicked their heels and lingered towards the back of our company. The rest of us filed through the door, rifles hot and ready.

“Game on, Greenie,” Konzor whispered to me, “we’re gonna bag us a head for the mantel, that’s right! A head, or whatever passes for one.”

Up above, I heard something pound against ground, the tooth-edging, squeaky grind of contorting metal. I could feel it too, the vibrations of our enemy as it began to eat us from within.

“Have you ever fought-”

“Of course I have!” Konzor bellowed, “the Vendorii are born to kill! When nature demands a sword, it evolves a Vendorii! When the galaxy-”

“An Arkolt,” the end of my sentence slipped between the cheers of his proclamation, “have you ever fought the Arkolt?”

He fell silent for a moment, though the glint of glory never quite left his eyes.

“Once,” he nodded, “at Solactus Station. Just a small drone, a few times bigger than I.”

“Did you win?”

“Did I win? What do you think?”

Despite myself I giggled a little.

“Well okay,” I shrugged, “but you know what I mean.”

“There were ten of us fighting it. Eight got out alive. I, well… I miss them.” I’d expected him to falter a little, to consider the danger, to remember his loss. Instead, he burned brighter, ever brighter. “Understand this, I fight for them too. I carry them into battle every day.”

“I think I understand. I think so.”

“I hope not, Greenie. It’s a wonderful thing, but terrible.”

“I,” I found myself desperately looking for things to say, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Don’t be scared,” Konzor said, as much a demand as it was a comfort, “If you end up dead, it’ll mean I already am.”

“Thank you,” I smiled as we ascended the stairs, and were finally presented with…

Well…

It looked a little like the Sphereship, though about three meters wide and lacking the horrible hole-cannon. Four narrow spikes sank into the ground like spider’s legs, not connected to the sphere at all but somehow supporting it through invisible force. Like a man with empty space where thighs ought to be.

Everyone opened fire, and so did the Arkolt, the crack of gunfire still shockingly loud even after training. Our bullets bounced off the robot’s casing like we were hitting a solid cube of metal, whilst bolts of hot plasma slowly seared its white casing into a burnt-looking grey. The Arkolt ignored everything and simply shot a pin-point beam of violet energy that swept across the ground towards our position, scoring the metal panels wherever it went. Not the burst of pure starfire that killed our dreadnaughts, but a purely focussed beam capable of slicing pure lead. We all dived for cover of course, giving our opponent time to scuttle further back, beam still sweeping in a wild arc to catch us. Entire banks of computers melted into sizzling goop as the beam casually passed over each of us in turn.

“Keep firing!” I heard Dagger’s voice and raced to comply, automatic rifle burning my hands as it unloaded endless rounds into the indestructible enemy. Then, for one of the most agonising moments of my life, the bright purple beam passed right across my armoured chest. I could feel it melting against me, the heat bubbling my fluids, pure fire pressed against my skin. The pain escaped my lips in a pure, guttural, animal cry. I was about to die, to be sliced in half, until something yanked be away.

“Idiot,” Dagger spat against her helmet as she shoved me off to the side and lobbed an ion grenade over the busted server we’d hunkered behind. “Take cover asshole or they’ll shoot you a new one!”

“Yes Ma’am,” I whimpered, touching the melted part of my armour and jerking my hand away in response to the heat. Another half-second and, well, I try not to think about it.

“Cease fire!” Dagger raised her arm and everything fell silent like she’d commanded a mighty thunderstorm to die. When I dared to look beyond our cover, I just caught a glimpse of the robot’s pole-leg before it vanished behind a corner, leaving nothing more than a few shards of white casing and a veritable heap of chaos. Not one of the computers in this room had survived, and the walls were patterned with a continuous soot-black laser-line. The fire-suppression sprinklers had gone off somewhere along the line, and I hadn’t even noticed the water running down my visor.

“Greenie!” Konzor dashed towards me from where he’d been stationed behind a corner, “have they hurt you?”

“He’s fine,” Dagger said, “damn thing’s headed for the hanger. You have ten seconds to lick your wounds and anyone still crying can stay here.”

So far nobody had died, but others had even worse burns than I did. One Trigan female was sobbing to herself near Konzor’s corner, arm ending with an ashy stump about halfway down. If her biology wasn’t compatible with certain medicines, the course of her life would be changed from the injury. Meanwhile, their enemy had made it out virtually unscathed. It seemed unfair. It was war.

Konzor gave my chest an affectionate punch where the beam had seared me. I grit my teeth into a smile, ignoring the lingering pain.

“Fuel for your fight brother,” he said, “fuel for your fight!”

Dagger was the first to sprint down the corner and, without batting an eye, immediately dashed back as the Arkolt beam shot right where she’d been, hitting the wall behind her whilst the intruder retreated further into the ship. It was like clockwork for her, a rehearsed play. It felt as though she’d fought more Arkolt than there were ships in this fleet.

“Alright,” she nodded, “now, for real. Charge the bastard!”

The hanger was one of two onboard the frigate, easily the largest rooms and probably the most interesting too. Three Long-Sky Class Mark Three fighters sat side-by-side, attached to so many tubes and cables you’d think they were hospital patients rather than deadly war-machines. The Arkolt intruder was already standing on one of their wings, beam swivelling towards us as we poured in, once again sweeping around to attack whichever of us came closest. Our squad fell into smaller groupings of two or three as we spread around the hanger, thankfully giving the intruder more distinct masses to aim at. It was chaos, complete chaos, each of us dashing to avoid the beam while getting some shots in whenever we could. The robot was clearly falling apart as we fired, but slowly, and we’d be coming out of it worse whatever happened.

“Duck Greenie!” Konzor cried, dragging me down as the beam passed over our heads, sizzling as it melted the master controls behind us. It struck me that we’d all be done for if it hit some kind of flammable fuel-line or munitions loader, but for now we had only a few puddles of spilt coolant to deal with.

“We can’t beat this thing,” I whispered, as Konzor pushed my chest against the ground with one arm and fired right over me with the other.

“But we can fight it,” he responded, seconds before we were all thrown into the air. The ship must’ve fallen victim to yet another shockwave, possibly an even closer one, and the inertial dampeners simply couldn’t compensate. The Ultimatum of Infinity jolted upwards on a crest of energy, flinging everything not affixed to the walls, only to slam back down again just as fast.

In general, I find it uncomfortable to think about my own achievements, since it feels somehow narcissistic, but I have to admit this was my first time saving another’s life, completely instinctual as it was. As we were all thrust to the ground, I was able to push Konzor aside just instants before a welding tool could bash against his head, something that’d leave most species concussed at best and dead at worst.

“Greenie,” he murmured, and jumped to his feet before anyone else could recover, “Greenie, are you hurt?”

I shook my aching head, which was apparently enough for him to leave my side and continue firing on the momentarily disoriented enemy. Now knowing my sluggishness could easily get me killed, I scrambled for my weapon, but quickly realised the shake-up had flung it far from my hands, and I couldn’t see it anywhere.

“I’ve lost my gun!” I called out to Konzor.

“Punch the bastard if you get the chance!” He called back.

Not exactly the advice I was looking for.

Still keeping low, I looked around for something I could use. Whilst there were probably plenty of weapons just lying around, my mind wasn’t yet willing to accept that the seared bodies on the ground were dead or dying, so in my addled adrenaline rush I refused to snatch one from their hands. In the end I had to notice my own confusion, force myself to cling to the moment and actually think, even as the fighting blurred around me.

What could I do here?

What could I do?

“Konzor,” I cried out, finally forming something of an idea, “cover me!”

The Vendorii screamed rushed to my side, gun still spitting like his finger was fused to the trigger. Together we darted towards the master control panel, still steaming from where it had earlier been struck by the beam.

“Have an idea, Greenie?”

“A bad one.”

“Worse than this?”

Muttering under my breath I activated the controls, praying in vain to any of the thousand known deities that they still worked. Much to my infinite relief, the screen activated with only a slight blur and a thick black burn-mark to indicate damage. The Ultimatum had clearly been built for durability, inside and out.

“What are you doing?” I heard Dagger bark at me, but again I forced myself to focus on the work ahead. I’d worked on ships my entire life. Never a ship like this one, but I’d worked on ships. People had paid me to repair ships built the day before and ships built millions of years prior. This was just that. Another ship.

“Gree-” Konzor screamed as a puff of air rolled behind me. Through the screen’s slight reflection I could see the robot had dived towards us, and had shoved my friend aside with two of its pole-like legs. Konzor was on the ground, weapon firing, but he knew it was over, he must. Sweat poured down my body as the intruder crept towards me, laser still thankfully focussed on the soldiers further away. But it didn’t need to shoot. The legs were sharp enough to skewer every bone in my body. I trembled, but kept working, not even stopping to wipe my forehead. It was over. I was about to die.

“Okay,” I pushed the last button, and the robot exploded under a barrage of plasma-fire from the nearest parked starfighter, shards of casing and computer chips flung outwards like hundreds of bullets, the biggest smaller than my thumbnail. I myself was thrown against the screen by the blast in a shower of sparks and and broken glass, almost blacking out from the force. When I stumbled to my feet the robot was gone and so was a circle of floor, the anti-hull shots having penetrated two separate decks before stopping. All that remained of my handiwork was a solid orange ring surrounding the hole, slowly fading as the heat dispersed into the air.

“Was that you?” Konzor steadied me with his hands, mouths wider than I’d seen them yet. I nodded, the motion dizzying me like a hangover. “You’re a damn hero, you are,” he threw both arms around me in a hug that probably could’ve crushed the Arkolt if he’d tried.

“Good job Greenie,” Dagger strode towards me, face flooded with shock and amusement, “you might’ve just saved lives here.”

“I work on ships,” I said, my voice slurred. I didn’t know if I was making sense, because everything was so loud and so dizzy, and so bright, and then I fainted for real.