The Battle of Corrin

My father was declared a Hero of the Jihad. Even if all other historical records fade into dust, let the human race never forget that fact.
— VICEROY FAYKAN BUTLER,
resolution introduced to the League Parliament
In a bland and logical voice, Dante informed him of the successful test run against the League fleet. Lasers, shields… and total devastation.

As he listened in astonishment, unable to disconnect his auditory thoughtrodes, Juno explained to Quentin that he himself had unwittingly revealed the shields’ deadly vulnerability to lasers. He went into a frenzy, and after they disconnected him from his walker-form, he sank into despair, unable to calculate how many human soldiers he had doomed through the weakness of his mind. And how many more would die?

The three Titans detached his preservation canister and denied him access to any mechanical bodies. His instinct told him to fight and die in a great and gallant effort, but he found himself utterly impotent. The cymeks had taken his arms and legs. They had taken his eyes, his hearing, his voice. He was nothing more than a helpless trophy. With no temporal reference points to demarcate his limbo, Quentin didn’t know how long he was isolated.

If he could only shut down his life-support systems, if he could will himself to die, then he could be sure he’d never reveal any more vital information.

But Quentin had to endure his damnation, all the while waiting to seize even the slightest chance that would allow him to strike back, especially now that he knew what vital information he had betrayed. He was no coward like Xavier Harkonnen. He was perfectly willing to give up his life in battle against these hybrid enemies, but he would not waste his efforts. He needed to be convinced he had at least a chance of hurting the Titans.

When his sight suddenly returned with a flare of light, his reconnected optic threads showed him a streamlined walker-body and brain canister that he recognized as Juno’s. He wanted either to cringe away or lash out. If he could have used his brain to manifest powerful arms, he would have reached forward to strangle her, but Quentin did not have that option.

“We’d like to take you with us,” Juno said. “You’re going to fly.”

* * *
IT WAS AS wonderful as the cymeks had promised, and Quentin hated them for it. Though Juno had lied to him many times, she had not exaggerated these sensations.

The neos installed his preservation canister into a sleek flying ship designed to carry cymeks into interstellar battlefields. As the force raced away from Hessra, Quentin felt like an eagle soaring with wings of steel. He could swoop on the updrafts of stellar winds, entirely unfettered. He could fall forever like a raptor snatching prey and then change his course at will, accelerating and flying in any direction.

“Many neos experience the ecstasy of flight,” Dante transmitted from the head of the small force. “If you had cooperated, Primero Butler, we could have let you experience this long ago.”

For a giddy moment, Quentin had forgotten the horror of his circumstances. Now, though, he curtailed his ecstatic sensations and fell glumly into tight formation with the rest of the cymek ships. He could break away now, change course and fly straight into the nearest fiery sun, just as the traitor Xavier Harkonnen had done, carrying Iblis Ginjo to his death.

But what purpose would that serve? He still wanted to cause destruction among the cymek ranks. Each day the debt of vengeance grew larger.

He flew with Dante from Hessra, with all of the weapons of his ship deactivated. As a predatory bird, he was neutered and stripped of his claws, but Quentin could still observe and hope to seize a chance.

Agamemnon and Juno departed for other cymek worlds in their corrupted empire, while Dante meant to inspect the five worthwhile planets he had recently attacked to check on the progress of the neo-cymek dictators he had installed. After suffering so much under more than a century of machine attacks and then the Scourge, the people on those conquered planets should cling to any false hope. The cymeks offered them power and immortality.

Only a few converts were needed to crack down on the entire society. Not all humans had a strength of will equivalent to Quentin’s.

Finally, as the group of cymek ships approached the fringe of the Relicon system, Dante was surprised to encounter a League expeditionary force from Salusa, coming to inspect and aid the still-recovering human colony. They didn’t know the cymeks had taken the planet more than a month earlier.

Dante’s warships instantly shifted into a battle-ready posture, activating their weapons, loading projectiles into launch tubes, preparing their laser weaponry. “It looks like someone has come to play with us.” The Titan’s transmission was beamed toward Quentin, but the other neos cheered, spoiling for a fight.

Quentin did not wish to encounter the Army of Humanity vessels, especially when he saw that the lead javelin vessel was a political flagship. Some high-ranking official had come on an inspection tour, offering humanitarian assistance and reparations.

“Prepare to attack,” Dante said. “We’ll take an unexpected prize here.”

Quentin searched for an option. He had no weapons in his stripped-down ship, but it would be a massacre if he didn’t warn the League ships that the cymeks knew about the laser-shield interaction. Working all systems available through the thoughtrodes connected to his brain canister, he found that he could manipulate the ship’s communications systems. If he could change frequencies, maybe— with any luck— he would be able to send a transmission.

Then a signal came over the broadband open channel from the flagship of the group. “Cymeks, enemies of humanity, this is Viceroy Faykan Butler. You have attacked these human colonies, and now you must face our justice.”

Quentin felt a surge of hope, then dread. Faykan! He didn’t want his oldest son to see him like this. But that was a selfish fear… now that there was so much at stake.

Dante spoke to the neo-cymek forces, following a carefully planned script. “All neos, open fire with projectile weapons.”

Like an explosive hailstorm, torpedoes and shaped grenades sprayed against the javelin flagship and several escort destroyers.

Quentin kept working on altering the communication frequency aboard his cymek craft, but he had not been trained in this. Whenever his thoughts went astray, he overshot what he wanted to do.

Dante continued, sounding pleased and confident. “Their shields are up, making them vulnerable to lasers. Prepare— “

Finally, Quentin screamed across a secret frequency long used by the Army of the Jihad for high-level command transmissions. “Faykan! Drop all shields immediately. It’s a trick.”

“Who is this?”

Naturally, the signal Quentin transmitted from his mind had no recognizable voice patterns. “Faykan, they mean to use laser weaponry— you know what that means. Drop your shields before it’s too late!”

Faykan apparently believed him. Only a few officers and political leaders in the command structure of the League knew about the secret vulnerability of the Holtzman shields. “Shields down! All subcommanders, drop shields immediately!”

Though many of them argued, the Viceroy issued another firm order. The protective shields faded away only an instant before weak and inefficient energy beams played across the armored hulls, causing only marks and superficial damage, nothing significant, and leaving a few scorch marks. The lasers swept out again, more intense the second time, but none of the League ships powered up their shields.

Faykan realized in an instant that the mysterious transmission had saved them all from annihilation. “Who is this? Do we have an ally among the cymeks? Identify yourself.”

Dante still hadn’t figured out what Quentin had done. “Something has gone terribly wrong, but we have other ways to pursue this.” The cymek attack fleet moved together, reloading their projectile weapons. The explosives would be deadly if Faykan’s vessels kept their shields offline.

“Get your ships out of here. I… or you will be— ” Quentin said, then faltered, afraid to identify himself. “Just trust me. Make me… shed tears of happiness again.” Quentin hoped that would be enough to help his son figure it out. He could not bear to confess everything— not now. It was too terrible to think that the Army of Humanity might mount an ill-advised rescue for him, coming to the cymek stronghold on Hessra in an effort to free him. Quentin didn’t want that. He just wanted Faykan to get away before Dante and his powerful ships slaughtered everyone.

“Father!” Faykan transmitted back on the private frequency. “Primero— is that you? We thought you were killed!”

“Butlers are servants unto no one!” Quentin cried over the channel. “Now go!”

As Dante’s followers swooped in, launching the first volleys of explosives, Quentin suddenly realized that his ship could serve as a weapon. He had no launchers of his own, but he changed course, locked his engines into high acceleration— and suddenly flew through the cymek ranks, scattering them like a dog frightening a flock of pigeons. The cymek ships swirled about, dodging him. Over his communications system, he heard them chattering, arguing about what to do.

Quentin veered in an effort to collide with any cymek he encountered, but the neos were more adept in their mechanical bodies than he was. Avoiding him, they began to fire disabling shots at his drive system. Abruptly their words became garbled as the cymeks switched over to encrypted communications.

The disabling shots glanced off his hull, and Quentin pushed harder and harder toward Dante. He vowed to give up his life if he could destroy one of the three remaining Titans.

Dante swerved his larger combat body so that Quentin only managed to scrape the ships together in a glancing impact. As the vibration ground through his sleek metal body, Quentin sensed damage but no physical pain. His ship responded more sluggishly now, and he wondered how much damage he’d done to his artificial body.

He was relieved to see the League expeditionary force withdraw in confusion, though it was not yet in full retreat. “Go! Get out of here or you will all die,” he transmitted again.

“Primero Butler must have told them something!” Dante said. “Jam his signals!”

A blast of interference cut off further transmissions. He couldn’t explain anything, couldn’t ask for forgiveness or even say farewell to his son. But he had done what was necessary. And now the League would know he was still alive.

The cymek blasts were not enough to destroy Quentin’s ship, but caused sufficient damage to disable his engines and leave him hanging dead in space. Helpless and ineffective. An ignominious way to end, he thought….

* * *
THE CYMEKS HAD to tow him back to Hessra, while Dante lectured and scolded him for his foolishness. Still, Quentin was pleased with what he had managed to do. After being completely helpless for so long, he had struck a real blow for the cause of mankind. Not a single human life had been lost in the encounter.

Once Quentin was dragged back to Hessra, General Agamemnon would undoubtedly imprison him in his canister and make him submit to an eternity of pain stimuli, if he permitted Quentin to live at all.

But his accomplishment was worth it.






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