Shrouded Troubles

It took Dustin a few days to work out how to introduce the fact that his species were actively fighting the ‘shadows’ to Tisss. When he eventually told her, she sat very still for some time, before departing to speak with her superiors. He’d been worried that it might have been rash, but he couldn’t face the thought of making an alliance with the Olanse and not sharing that information. Besides, they’d find out sooner or later - that was the nature of warfare.

The answer he got however was unfortunate. Tisss apologized, but informed him that she had been directed to ask him and his crew to leave Olanse space in light of the new information. The government, it seemed, now wanted nothing to do with any aliens who might be risking detection by the Fractals let alone actively fighting them.

Sola drifted slowly upwards, and Dustin couldn’t help but feel he’d failed. Even with Emely sat in his lap, the fox girl hugging him and making reassuring noises, it still felt like a rare loss in his attempts to make new friends when they passed beyond the range of the shroud and the planets behind them flickered out of sight. “Was there something I could have done?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

Defia stepped alongside and replied anyway. “Statement. Based on likely projections, the odds of your succeeding in convincing these aliens to align with us was below thirty percent. They are proficient in hiding and little else. Addendum. At least they are not our enemies.”

Dustin had to nod and smile sadly at her last remark. “That’s true. If their tech fell into Durathisian hands we’d have a much harder time of things. Alright, well, we’ve still got their neighbours we can go and visit, maybe one of them will prove more helpful - even if it’s just as another staging post for our fleets passing through this cluster of stars. Let’s keep moving.”

The next weave jump was a short one - barely two hours of a hop - and Dustin spent most of it trying to get out of the funk he was in. Spending time with his kids helped; he was gently bouncing a giggling C’harl’ette on his knee with a sense of wonder at how lucky he was to have her when Sola chimed to announce their return to normal space. As soon as the chimes faded though, the communicator crackled. “Dustin?” Emely’s voice sounded concerned. “We’ve got a problem…”

The ready room was humming with conversation as Dustin entered, C’harl’ette still in his arms. Trea’k reached out and took her daughter the instant she saw him, allowing him to slide effortlessly into his regular seat. As he sat, he addressed the women present. “Okay, give me all the details - you said we got a distress call?”

Emely nodded. “Right as we dropped out of the weave. The Olanse sent it; apparently a Fractal fleet dropped in just after we left. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, but this time around the Fractals are taking a path across the system that’ll put some of their vessels dangerously close to the shroud. They’ve never seen this large a number of Fractal vessels at once before either, so are calling for aid from any of their neighbours - and I guess we got included in the distress call.”

“We’re obviously going to help, right?” Aricia said, setting her glass down. “That’s what you do, Dustin. We help people.”

Dustin nodded. “We can’t cloak though - so if we jump in immediately the hostiles might break formation, and that’d increase the risk of detection for the locals. What do the Olanse think the ETA is for the Fractals getting into a danger zone for them?”

Meli and Emely exchanged a glance. “If we set off in an hours time we should arrive as the risk reaches it’s maximum, husband. But without a method of preventing Fractal communications out of the system, any actions we take would only guarantee whatever cluster has sent this fleet learning about the Olanse worlds.”

Defia glanced up at that remark, breaking off her conversation with Rye to add her own thoughts on the matter. “Statement. Based on prior engagements we have had with cluster vessels, likelihood of all craft maintaining a constant feedback link is ninety-two point three one five percent. Potential for blocking communications approximately zero point one-seven percent. Recommend alternative encounter planning, and informing the Olanse of the situation post combat.”

Noting the rogue Fractal’s words, Dustin sighed and tapped the communicator. “Sammie,” he began, addressing the only member of his inner circle not currently present. “Prepare to jump back the way we came in a little over an hour. We want to either hit the Fractals as they’re leaving so they think we’ve not been to the system before, or hit them while they’re engaged with the locals, understood?”

With the decision taken, the next question became how they intended to take on a Fractal fleet with only a single craft. Emely was pretty sure the other species that were friends of the Olanse would be jumping their own ships in based on the nature of the distress call - but that didn’t give them any indication of how many, when, or how capable those craft would be. The lizard folk had their own fleet as well - but whether they would break cloak to join in a strike on the Fractals was also in question. In short, this was a risky jump, even if it was one they all wanted to do. Most of those present had seen what Fractal attacks did to a world, after all.

When Sola returned to the Olanse home system, it was to a system ablaze. At least one of the shroud generators had clearly been knocked out, an entire moon and it’s orbiting stations flickering on and off the sensors as the failing array tried to keep it concealed. Ships in a half-dozen different designs were weaving and diving between Fractal craft, the machine fleet’s weapons striking out with deadly efficiency as it continued it’s progress across the system.

“Statement. They are not stopping. This is not a harvesting fleet, but a probing one.” Defia’s voice was clinical as she surveyed the battlefield in front of them. “Addendum. This is not their planned destination.”

“Incoming communications from the Olanse command, sir!” Emely tapped her communicator “They’re offering a link in to their targeting grid to ensure we don’t crash into or accidentally fire through any of their vessels still under cloak.”

Glancing across at Yril’k who nodded, Dustin gave the order. “Do it. Sammie, aim us towards the heart of that fleet. Yril’k, Rye - get the big gun online.” Then, as his lovers and friends hurried to obey, Dustin thumbed the communicator on his chair. “Attention all fighter craft. You’re locked and loaded, keep us clear of anything small while we go hunting for bigger prey. Engineering, prepare to refit the fighters with weave-torpedoes if things look to be going south.”

Fighter-craft swarmed out of Sola’s hull as the starship moved to an intercept course with the Fractals. Yril’k’s fingers clipped a staccato rhythm as she primed the main weapon. “Ready’k to fire, captain’k. I have targetted one of the larger’k vessels.”

Dustin was grateful that this fleet seemed to lack the truly gigantic Fractal ships - the largest was only a little over twice Sola’s size, which was still massive if Defia was right and this was some kind of scouting fleet. Despite their smaller size, the ships were still devastating the combined fleets of the Olanse and their neighbours however, hulks already drifting in space ahead of them as Sola closed in. “Fire when ready.”

A moment later, energy pulsed forth. Sola’s main gun spat fire at the prow of a Fractal vessel, and as it struck Dustin could hear Rye muttering. He knew she’d been tinkering with the weapon more or less constantly since the battle for Earth, adjusting almost every relay and coil in the massive machine with the latest data from the research being conducted into the remnants of Fractal tech they’d managed to find. Now, all that work came to fruition.

The hull of the Fractal craft held for a moment, and for that awful second Dustin wondered if the machine race had managed to figure out a counter to humanity’s weaponry after weeks of skirmishes. Then the beam flickered, a multicoloured pulse running it’s length, and the prow of the enemy ship buckled and shredded under the force of Sola’s iridescent lance.