The War with the Forerunners. One hundred ten thousand years before the main events. The ship "Boundless Resolve."
Space is vast and empty. Planets, stars, and galaxies are 99.999% filled with cosmic void. Thousands and millions of worlds—points in an endless emptiness. Most of those points are uninhabited, but they carry all the resources a growing empire needs. And there are more than enough that can be used for life.
The galaxy is enormous. There's room for everyone. In theory. And even under those conditions, sapient species still come into conflict with one another. For example, over habitable worlds. For political reasons. Or when someone tries to eat you. The Human Empire settled one of the galaxy's arms around the capital world, Charum Hakkor, and the cradle of civilization, the planet Erde-Tyrene.
Of course, it wasn't just humanity. Our loyal allies, the San'Shyuum—humanoid aliens with long necks and limbs, eager for a comfortable, unhurried life—also did their part in this difficult undertaking. All so we could keep our distance from the galaxy's hegemon: the Forerunners' Ecumene. An empire that holds most of the galaxy and countless species. And they don't like humans very much, considering us aggressive racists.
And then the Flood happened. A parasite that assimilates entire planets. The most disgusting part is that when it consumes specialists, it doesn't lose their skills. So the Flood quickly acquired an army and a fleet. Even a small number of parasites that make it onto a planet can rapidly absorb the entire population and move on. And on. And again. An unstoppable wave of flesh. Even burning all life to the ground only delays the end—it doesn't help you win.
Too fast. Too little time. And humanity had to retreat in the only possible direction if we didn't want to be eaten: toward the Forerunners' Ecumene—who were definitely not happy about the intrusion. They were furious. A two-front war began. One we are losing. One that could wipe humanity out. But there is no better solution. I, Counselor 18-436, know that.
***
A flash tore through the interstellar emptiness as a ship emerged from slipspace. Stretched along its main weapon—a matter accelerator—the ship's rectangular horizontal hull, with a fin on the bow and two on the stern, was badly deformed.
You didn't need to be a specialist to understand it had been in battle and was heavily damaged. Asymmetry, breaches, some elements clearly missing. Engine glow uneven, as if flickering out from time to time. And even so, this multi-kilometer giant commanded respect.
It had taken part in the battle with the Forerunners at Nrai-Ta'as—and was one of the few that managed to retreat. The world was lost, burned to nothing. The Forerunners don't bother with those who dare attack the Ecumene. The Mantle of Responsibility, they call it. 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 slaughter humanity than to start listening.
But humanity won't surrender without a fight. And the San'Shyuum, and the Ancillas support them in this. Inside the damaged ship, the few survivors struggled to keep what systems still worked functioning. Including the captain—a tall man in black metal power armor. A blue-eyed blond, and another dozen men and women of human appearance at the consoles. From time to time, crackling echoed in various places, showers of sparks flew, and technicians rushed to make emergency repairs. Small robots helped them—able to crawl into the tightest spaces without having to dismantle everything.
After looking at the ship's projection on one of the screens, the captain frowned. Far too many dark areas with no signals at all—and damage markers. Including within the frame and the power channels. One hit had punched straight through the hull, damaging the most vital nodes. Atmosphere was still present, but energy accumulation for weapons, engines, and the frame clearly needed repair at a shipyard. And that was a huge problem, in truth. The man turned toward a stand in the corner of the bridge.
"Counselor 18-436. Khaela? Report."
One of the spheres lying in the corner lifted off, careful not to get in the way of the bridge crew, and hovered before the captain. A flash of light, and the projector revealed the ship AI's hologram. Who decided to give the AI the appearance of a woman with bestial features and five tails was unknown. In any case, it was a good choice. Five tails. A calm, studying gaze. Not too young, so as not to make the crew uncomfortable. A closed purple dress without a deep neckline, so as not to provoke unnecessary thoughts. At the same time, the complete absence of shoes or armor was also a psychological move. Long arms and a thin face; eyes without pupils. Defenseless, but not quite human. Originally she had pupils, but Khaela herself modified her avatar; because of that, looking her in the eyes was somewhat uncomfortable—like falling into them. And she was clearly fine with most interlocutors looking 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. Overall system status includes extensive damage ranging from moderate to critical. We have lost seventy percent of our medium-caliber armament and ninety percent of our light. Half of our shield projectors are lost and cannot be replaced, multiple decompressions. Seventy percent of the crew are dead or missing, excluding the battle watch. The battle watch is undermanned. Energy is feeding into systems at one-third nominal. Combat capability is at—"
The captain raised a hand, cutting her off.
"I already know all that, Khaela. Start with the main problems."
Yes, a bit rough. But that information was obvious from the status screen hanging right there, and what wasn't obvious could be found other ways. What mattered was how bad it really was. Of course, in front of the crew that would be a breach of subordination—but in the case of an AI, it was forgivable. Besides, Khaela and I had known each other for nearly a decade. The fox looked at the map. Yes, the ship had originally been heading for one of the home worlds, but we were thrown off with significant displacement—along all three vectors. The fox calmly stared at the map for about a second, then answered:
"Damage to the main power bus, Captain Trichakos. Power delivery to the highest-capacity systems is unstable. A hit from a Forerunner matter accelerator nearly severed it, then the emergency jump worsened the situation. Permission to speak plainly?"
The news sparked whispers on the bridge. Not that they didn't know—but the full picture was available only to technical specialists, and at best a quarter of them had survived. And they simply couldn't keep up everywhere. On the other hand, the AI had a staff of drones to find these things out. The captain nodded to the AI and added:
"Go ahead, Khaela. Finish it."
She nodded, and with all the bluntness typical of an AI, declared:
"We will not make it home. The bus is burned out. Attempting to destroy the Forerunner cruiser while fighting defensively only made things worse. We damaged the cruiser, but their defenses are better than ours for an artillery duel. The bus will burn out completely after one more fight or two to three jumps. Now we have a simple choice, Captain: either spend the remaining resource trying to reach a world, or accept battle."
"Accept battle." We weren't in the best shape to fight the cruiser pursuing us, but apparently the engines were even worse. That was what the first officer, Takaeshi, asked as she approached.
"Khaela, why do you consider accepting battle an effective outcome?"
She brought up the ship projection. A few sweeps of her hands, and most error messages vanished, leaving only the main weapon—the matter accelerator.
"The main weapon still functions. There are power issues, but I can catch the ship on its slipspace exit and fire a precise shot. With a probability of sixty-eight percent, I can disable the enemy, given the damage already inflicted. A second accelerator strike on our part is unlikely: maneuvering thrusters are damaged, and we can't reliably rotate the hull. But there are turrets. If the enemy loses power for shields, we can inflict damage. Chances of victory are around forty percent."
The captain nodded.
"And if we try jumping?"
The AI snapped her fingers, switching the ship image to a map. Of course, snapping wasn't necessary, but some clever person decided that tying certain ship AI actions to gestures and words makes them clearer and creates an illusion of control. So Khaela changes images with hand waves, taps her cheek while searching, and combs her tails in standby. In any case, a regional map appeared now, with a star system marked as a lone dot.
"This is the nearest inhabited world. This"—a small yellow sphere appeared around the dot—"is the radius within which lifeboats can reach the world before the crew inside dies. This"—an orange circle the size of a large ball compared to the barely visible yellow sphere—"is the region where we may be thrown, given the current state of the main bus and the drive. At best, we have three attempts. Probability of success is at the level of statistical error. We are not returning in any case. Still, Captain—you are the captain," she added with an ironic smirk.
This was no time for jokes.
"And our pursuer won't back off, of course."
The fox nodded.
"He will be here very soon. We have about ten minutes. I am detecting initial traces of slipspace drive activity, Captain. We've been found."
And there was the question. A microscopic chance to survive—or destroy the enemy, but with no chance to survive ourselves. She didn't say it, of course, but the Forerunner ship would be able to track us. And when the drive dies, they'll simply shoot us in place. The only chance for a successful retreat is if we get lucky and jump right to the planet, under the protection of orbital defenses and the fleet. The Forerunners won't dare. So, one more question.
"How many jumps can we make and still use our own accelerator?"
The fox puffed her cheeks slightly and tapped a finger against one—indicating search and analysis. Thinking about it, those reactions really were convenient. The captain glanced back to see the whole bridge quietly watching the conversation. Expected—this choice decided their lives, right now. So? The fox straightened.
"One, at best. But I can't guarantee it—the damage is too extensive, Captain. The accelerator's power draw is significantly higher. It will be difficult to provide sufficient output. Practically impossible."
Captain Trichakos nodded.
"Then we do one jump. Then, if it fails, we turn and fight. We're working with statistical error either way. We'll give the crew a chance. After that—we'll see. It's the best we have."
The Forerunner ship exiting its jump managed only a few salvos, taken on the shields, before the cruiser jumped. More vertical, with rounded forms, it was also clearly damaged and holed—but far less than its target. The escorts had been destroyed, but the captain was sure the enemy would not run. Especially since their ship required far less time to jump. Next time, there would be nowhere to go.
***
The next exit from slipspace greeted the human ship with blinking engines and unstable lighting. Several screens went dark. Khaela exhaled as she looked at the new damage. For all that, she did love humans.
"We have decompressions along the hull. The main bus is preparing to go to the gods of the Hand. Energy accumulation for the next jump attempt will take an hour. Captain," she emphasized the last word with a hint of sarcasm.
The first officer looked at the fox with undisguised outrage.
"How far are we from the world? And what are you doing without orders?"
The ship shuddered as the maneuvering thrusters fired, beginning to rotate the hull. And the fact that two more just exploded instead of working normally. Even so, looking at the status display, the vectors were very uneven. We were barely turning. The best option for battle, yes. But we work with what we have. The captain stepped up to the map just in time to hear:
"Executing the captain's order, First Officer—accepting battle. As for our location? We're here," she answered, showing the same map with the yellow and orange spheres.
The ship's marker was much closer to the planet, but far off to the side. We overshot. The captain remained silent. No red alert had been declared. The AI did not have the authority to command the crew over the captain, and did not do so. But she could control the main weapon—the matter accelerator—and in that way maneuver even without a direct order to maneuver. This colossal cannon ran almost the entire length of the hull, and aiming required rotating the whole ship. That limited its use at short ranges or when maneuvering thrusters were fully or partially destroyed. You simply wouldn't be able to swing onto the target in time. The speed at which the ship was turning only confirmed the instruments' readings: we would get exactly one attack. Then the Forerunner ship would start maneuvering, take our side, and destroy us. If we missed.
"How long until the enemy arrives?"
"Three minutes, Captain," the AI noted, continuing with smooth movements as if turning a steering wheel.
Right now Khaela was actively waving all her upper limbs, including her tails. Had never seen that before—apparently because she was the one steering every thruster toward the vector where the enemy ship would exit. Normally there was a team for that, but not when the slightest overload makes your maneuvering thrusters start exploding. You have to act with extreme care. All right, then. Begin.
"Battle stations. Full status report."
The alert buzzers sounded. The map changed again to the ship schematic with damage markers. The crew—whoever was still alive—were at their posts. And may the Hand help us.
"Decompressions sealed, sir," the technician reported.
"Weapons charging, sir, we'll be ready," and then more quietly, almost a whisper, "What's left."
The captain looked around. These people were crushed. Understandable—no one wants to die. But they had all heard Khaela, and there was no point lying now. So—shipwide comms. A few words had to be said for those who weren't on the bridge. It wasn't easy—the captain was young, less than a hundred years. The war with the Forerunners had taken many, and becoming a cruiser captain was far easier than before. Not to mention the parasite front, where things were even worse.
Rumor said that against the parasite they deployed obedient crews, but not overly intelligent ones, because the parasite could control them. Probably lies. Flying a ship is a complex task. There can't be idiots there. The captain, of course, didn't consider himself an idiot. But when you have to speak to a crew in a hopeless situation, you need more than a flexible mind. The captain exhaled and began to speak:
"This is Captain Trichakos speaking. We have taken critical damage and will engage the enemy in a few minutes. The ship AI believes she can destroy him. And we will do it. The Forerunners must not learn of the inhabited world we are moving toward"—and which we will never reach—"even if we have to die today. And we will do it. Together. Now. We have no other choice. There's no good news, either."
When he finished, the captain turned to the first officer and the ship AI. And where the first officer saluted, the AI only made a vague gesture—as if to say, "Well, you did it. Could've been better."
"So, Khaela?"
The display changed again—now a status screen and tactical overlay. Here was our mark, opposite it the estimated exit vector of the Forerunner ship. Estimated, because there would be some offset. But if we could still adjust five degrees, fifteen might already be too much.
"I am charging the accelerator. Weapon is aligned, shields are up. We won't be able to hold this energy level for long, so our only chance is a lucky shot from the main gun. Time until enemy arrival is about a minute. Shot charge will take two—accounting for the turn, it should be enough."
"Two minutes. A long time, but with what we have, we can't squeeze out more, sir," the engineer commented.
As if the AI's words weren't trusted. Though they were nervous too, so no need for remarks.
"One minute to charge. Contact!"
A brief flash appeared ahead, and the Forerunner ship emerged. Elongated forward and vertical, the front resembling a curled round shell with the accelerator below. Almost at once, the first salvos rang out. The ships spotted each other and began turning for attack.
"Boundless Resolve" started earlier, but the Forerunner ship was faster. Impacts spread across both ships' shields—and also exploded, tearing chunks from the hull. A sign that both sets of projectors were not at full strength.
"Four degrees. Three. Two…"
The ship jolted; warning tones sounded and new marks appeared on the status display. Another battery down. Too close.
"They're accelerating!"
The Forerunner ship began to accelerate faster and faster, clearly trying to break the firing line.
"Overdrive engine three! Fire when ready!"
The main engine spat a jet of energy, snapping the ship rapidly onto the enemy. The impulse nearly threw the captain out of his chair; hissing and cries followed. The compensation system had failed, apparently. Vibrations grew stronger, impacts multiplying.
"Volley."
A white-blue beam of energy connected the two ships in a single line. The consequences hit both. On the human ship, shields and power went completely dead. The Forerunner ship was cleaved at an angle halfway through its hull, followed by an explosion. A second of silence on the bridge was replaced by joyful cheers.
"Yessssss!"
And the fact that normal lighting was gone changed nothing. The reserve system still powered the control systems. The Forerunner ship didn't fall apart, but a noticeable deformation appeared at the blast site—it had nearly snapped. Allowing himself a smile, the captain barked:
"Belay that! Close in and attack. The enemy is not destroyed yet."
Now that the enemy had no shields, it would be much easier. Presumably their power was now even worse than ours. The fox-AI, with a predatory smile, held her fingers like a frame and adjusted the fire-control system. She hated the Forerunners, absolutely.