Heirs of Empire

“Initiating.”

“Launch activation! Multiple launch activations!”

Sean paled at Sandy’s cry. The platforms had brought their support systems on-line; now their hyper launchers were cycling. They’d need several seconds to wind up to full launch status, but there were hundreds of them!

He tasted blood. This was a survey ship’s worst nightmare: an intact, active quarantine system. An Asgerd-class planetoid would have hesitated to engage this kind of firepower, and he had exactly one parasite battleship.

“Launch decoys!”

“Launching, aye.” A brief heartbeat. “First decoy salvo away. Second salvo prepping.”

Blue dots speckled the display with false images, each a duplicate of Israel’s own emissions signature as it streaked away from her.

“Activate missile battery. Designate launch platforms as primary targets but do not engage.”

“Missile battery active,” Sandy said flatly.

“Hostile decoys deployed,” the Voice a

Vroxhan clutched at the altar, and a terrified human voice cried out behind him, for the high priest’s portion of the Canticle was done! There was no more Canticle! But the Voice was continuing.

“Request Tracking refinement and update,” it said, and the High Priest sank to his knees while the demon light spawned again and again. Dozens of demons blazed in the stars, and he didn’t know what the Voice wanted of him!

“Initiate firing sequence!” he repeated desperately, and his trained voice was broken-edged and brittle.

“Probability of kill will be degraded without Tracking refinement and update,” the Voice replied emotionlessly.

“Initiate firing sequence!” Vroxhan screamed. The Voice said nothing for a tiny, terrible eternity, and then—

“Initiating.”

“Hostile launch! I say again, hostile launch!”

A deathly silence followed Sandy’s flat a

Israel had never been intended to face such firepower single-handed, but her defenses had been redesigned and refined by Dahak and BuShips to incorporate features gleaned from the Achuultani and new ideas all their own. Her shields covered more hyper bands, her i

It was as well she did.

Only a fraction of those missiles were on target, but Israel bucked like a mad thing, and Sean almost ripped the arms from his couch as warheads smashed at her and she heaved about him. Damn it! Damn it! He’d forgotten to activate his tractor net! The gravity wells of a dozen stars sought to splinter his ship’s insignificant mass, and shield generators screamed in her belly.

The familiar musical note of Fire Test rang in his ears, and Vroxhan stared up from his knees, eyes desperate, waiting for the demon lights to vanish, praying that they would. He didn’t know how long he would have to wait; he never did, even during Fire Test, for no one had ever taught him to read the range notations within the targeting circles.

Then, suddenly, all but one of the demon lights did vanish. A great sigh went up from the massed bishops, and Vroxhan joined it. The demons might have spawned, but God had smitten all but one of them! Yet that one remained, and that, too, had never happened during Fire Test.

His terrible fear ebbed just a bit, but only a bit, for yet again the Voice spoke words no high priest had ever heard.

“Decoys destroyed. Engagement proceeding.”

A ship of the Fourth Empire would have died. Five of those mighty missiles had popped the hyper bands covered by Israel’s outer shield, but they erupted outside her i

“Jesus!” Sean shook his head and activated his couch tractor net as soon as the universe stopped heaving. They couldn’t take many more like that!

“Shift to evasion pattern Alpha Mike. Launch fresh decoy salvo.”

This time there were no verbal acknowledgments, but they flowed back to him through his feed. He felt his friends’ fear, but they were doing their jobs. And they were still alive. He didn’t understand that. With this much fire coming at them, they should be dead. But there wasn’t time to wonder why they weren’t—and no longer any reason not to fight back.

“Engage the enemy!” he snapped.

The first salvo spat from Israel’s launchers, and it was odd, but his own fear had disappeared.

“Incoming fire,” the Voice said. “Request defense mode.”

Vroxhan covered his face, trying to understand while faith, terror, and confusion warred within him. He knew what “request” meant, but he had no idea what a “defense mode” was.

“Urgent,” the Voice said. “Defense mode input required.”

Israel twisted in agony as the second salvo erupted into normal space about her, and a damage warning snarled. One of those missiles had gotten too close, and armor that would have sneered at a nuclear warhead tore like tissue under the fraction of power that leaked through the i

But Sean had more time to watch this attack’s pattern, and it told him something. Whatever was on the other end of those missiles was fighting dumb, spreading its fire evenly between Israel and her decoys, and that was crazy. Any defensive system ought to be able to refine its data enough to eliminate at least a few false images.

He felt Tamman activate his damage control systems, yet a quick check told him nothing vital had gone, and he looked back at the display just as Sandy’s first salvo went home.

Sweat stung Vroxhan’s eyes as a dozen of God’s emerald Shields vanished from the stars. The demons! The demons had done that!

“Urgent,” the Voice repeated. “Defense mode input required.”

The high priest racked his brain. Thought had never been required during any of the high ceremonies, only the liturgy. His mind ran desperately over every ritual, seeking the words “defense mode,” but he couldn’t think of any canticle that used them. Wait! He couldn’t think of any that used both words, but the Canticle of Maintenance Test used “mode”!

He trembled, wondering if he dared use another canticle’s words. What if they were the wrong words? What if they turned God’s wrath against him?