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Quod Olim Erat: The Cassandrian Theory (Chapter 11)
🕑 Added 2021-03-27 15:51:30 +0000 UTCSystem XNBBl-2, Cassandrian Space, 625.2 A.E. (Age of Exploration)
There was nothing of major interest in the asteroid belt until I approached closer. After a long series of arguments and referenced comparisons I’d never heard of, Sword of Blight had convinced the captain of his theory. I was ordered to head in that direction and steadily increase speed.
Over a dozen hours were spent gathering data. What this data would be used for, I had no idea. The only explanation given to me by the Sword was that it would serve as a “sample reference” later on. I tried asking the captain about it, but all I got was the usual line to relax and keep on mission. When we came within visual distance of the asteroid field, our opinion of things changed.
Ninety-nine-point-eight percent of the asteroids had a standard composition—rock, ores, other trace elements—but zero-point-two percent were different, containing Cassandrian keratin compounds.
“There we go,” Sword of Blight said as I displayed the findings on the wall. “There’re old, way older than the war.”
“Third-contact?” Wilco asked.
The question made me redirect all available subroutines to focus on asteroid composition analyses. If Sword of Blight’s implication turned out to be true, humanity could be in a far more serious situation than was publicized. It was difficult enough keeping two enemy races at bay. If there were a third, the entire human domain could collapse.
“Unlikely,” the Sword replied. “System’s too clean. I’d say another Cassandrian race was gone.”
“Nice to know we’re not the only ones killing them.” Sword of Spheres tilted his head. “Seems we’re not the only excuse for cannibalistic evolution.”
Cannibalistic evolution… the notion reminded me of the component modification system I was equipped with. The older ship classes despised it. Could it be that the principle was inspired by the Cassandrian’s evolution method? The research was classified, but it was well within the theoretical timeline.
“Do I collect samples for analysis, sir?” I asked. Even without shuttles, I could construct a mini-sat for the purpose. “Estimated time will be under twenty minutes.”
“Samples this old are useless,” Sword of Rain said. I couldn’t tell whether he was being pragmatic or concerned with something he hadn’t shared. “The race linked to them is dead. The data won’t help us.”
“Get the samples, Elcy,” Wilco ordered. “Nearest three targets only. Close proximity grab. I don’t want any sats out longer than they have to be.”
“Yes, captain.” I started the construction process.
“AI only; I don’t want any transmissions on the outside.”
That made things a lot more difficult. I wasn’t sure how much I could trust an AI for such a task; however, it wasn’t like I was given a choice in the matter. The gathering process took slightly less than an hour. A total of thirty-six samples were gathered, tagged, and stored in one of my armories. We left the system shortly after.
While I registered relief on the captain’s face, I was also able to identify disappointment. Unlike the Swords, he was hoping we’d stumble onto something. Personally, I was glad that we hadn’t.
Each of the next three systems were less impressive than the last—brown and white dwarfs with no planets to speak of and no debris that would merit attention. Even the Swords thought nothing of them. On average, there were only two on the bridge at a time, the rest remaining in their quarters. Once every eighteen hours, Sword of Fire would go check the status of the Cassandrian prisms and send a report to me and the captain. Meanwhile, I was coming to terms with the notion of race destruction.
As every ship, I had been taught the theory—the complete and utter annihilation of a species. Considering humanity’s scope and history, thousands of similar instances had been recorded. Technically, every planet purging had the potential to eliminate a species of bacteria, fungus, or even low-level plant life. However, the elimination of a fully sentient species was a horrifying new thought for me.
This wasn’t a gradual process of evolution. If what I had been told was true, the elimination was quick and utter—the remaining Cassandrian subspecies would make sure that that failed instance would be erased from existence, as if it never were.
For days, I dedicated a third of my free processing power to analyze old Cassandrian ship designs, running deep simulations in an attempt to find links between them. The more I did, the more I came to the conclusion that there were none. The evolution chains I’d created showed that groups of new designs would appear every few decades, while the old ones spontaneously vanished. Even during my own service, I had noticed older enemy types rarely appeared.
Did you know about this, Augustus? I wouldn’t be surprised if he had. My former captain remained a mystery in many aspects. Being one of the few humans that had fought on both fronts, he likely knew a lot more than he let on. Was that the reason he had been transferred to the Cassandrian front—to find a strategy that would bring us victory? At the time, I thought he had. Now I suspected that he had only started the process. Wilco was the one who had taken the torch, though I doubted he was going to see it through to the end.
“Arriving at waypoint five in fifteen seconds,” I announced in all inhabited areas.
This was to be the fifth system in Cassandrian territory that we’d enter. Unlike the previous four, though, enemy presence was more than likely. The system designation was XNM-015, a binary system with a pair of F-type stars in the center and seven main planets. Without scanning capabilities, I was jumping in blind.
“Red alert, Elcy,” Wilco said from his quarters. Unlike my previous captain, he didn’t bother with engaging privacy mode. Then again, there was no reason to—the crew was composed entirely of ships, and we had been ordered to maintain complete comm silence. “Prep weapons systems.”
“Yes, sir.”
This was the first time he had ordered me to do so since we’d entered Cassandrian space. The Swords must have had similar fears, for thirty of them were on their way to the bridge.
Nine seconds later, we appeared on the edge of the system. I spent five thousand full milliseconds analyzing all available visual data. After the period was over, I had no doubt—the system was occupied. Three of the planets were abundant in life, as well as several more of the smaller satellites. Interestingly enough, there also were several asteroid belts. This time, though, there was one major difference—there were several Cassandrian fleets as well.
“Cassandrian ships spotted!” I displayed a generated image of the system, indicating the locations of the enemy fleets. “Estimated number seventeen hundred.”
“Thoughts, Rain?” Wilco asked. His calmness surprised me. “Is it a battle fleet?”
“They’re too far from the planets,” Sword of Rain replied. “Logistic and communication, more likely. If there’s any weaponry, it’ll be on the planets.”
“Elcy, can you generate me an image?”
“Not without scanning, sir. I can only follow overall fleet formation. The overall mass is smaller than any vessels on record. Possibly, we’re dealing with a new class.”
“Auxiliary classes are smaller,” Sword of Rain corrected. “As long as they don't get too close, they’ll ignore us. I strongly advise we avoid any planets.”
Again with the planets. That was one thing that Sword of Rain seemed to be obsessed with. I had no idea why, but I had to agree with him. There was no way I could win against a thousand ships, even if they weren’t battle ready.
“The underbelly beneath the shell,” Sword of Spheres commented as he walked into the bridge.
His attire was quite casual this time, probably because we had jumped into the system during his rest and relaxation period. Like many ships, he had an established routine—exercises, bridge observation, simulations, exercises, sleep. Judging by the state of his organic body, the routine wasn’t having the desired effect.
“Have they reacted to us?” Sword of Spheres turned to Sword of Rain.
“There’s no indication of any changes since our arrival,” I was quick to say. “Movement seems regular and uninterrupted.”
“It will take them a few hours to notice us,” Sword of Rain replied, completely ignoring me. “Then they’ll cluster together until they determine what to do.”
“Gentlemen,” Wilco said as more Swords arrived. “Course of action.”
“The best approach would be to continue towards the fifth planet,” Sword of Spheres continued. “It follows a natural approach vector. Once there, we’ll be able to determine the specifics of the subspecies.”
“Odds seem good,” Sword of Fire agreed. “If the devices don’t work, we’ll have the option to jump out.”
“Rain?” Wilco leaned forward in his seat.
“It won’t get better than this. We’re already deep enough. It’s do or die from here on.”
“What’s the point of no return?”
“Difficult to say. Seventy minutes, possibly less. Most rely on transmissions to spot ships, but if the Cassies’ are anything like mine, they might be sensitive to mass as well.”
I kept on analyzing the incoming data. While it was impossible to come to any real conclusions based on the one minute of observation, average speed could be calculated for the entire formation. The only issue was that all my calculations and conclusions were based on mass and hours-old light readings, and those were never supposed to be taken in isolation.
“Elcy, head towards the fifth planet,” my captain said. “Three-quarters speed. No boost. And keep a feed of all enemy fleets. If there’s any change—”
“Head to the third planet,” Sword of Blight interrupted. “You can maintain full speed, just don’t change your course until we’re there.”
“Blight?” Wilco looked in his direction.
“The system isn’t occupied by Cassandrians, captain; it’s already dead. What we’re looking at is the corpse of a race being picked clean by another.”
I was getting the distinct impression that the Sword was admiring the process a little too much. Undoubtedly there was a lot that could be learned from Cassandrian behavior this far in, though such behavior was ghastly, more becoming of a Salvage vessel.
“If so, it’s been recent.” Sword of Rain crossed his arms. “The planets are still active. There’s a high chance that there are shipbuilders down there. I recommend going with the original plan.”
“That’s a mistake.”
“If you’re right, the fleet might take us for a rival faction. We’ll be tipping our hand early. How convinced are you that it's one of yours?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The ghoulish Sword paused. “I’ve seen enough planets be scavenged. It’s the same thing every time. They swarm, they gather, they strip everything away. If we move too close to the planet, they’ll consider us an enemy and call reinforcements. After that, it won’t matter whether we’re seen as human or Cassandrian; we’ll get ripped apart all the same.”
A horrifying thought. It didn’t take a simulation to know that we’d die the moment we were made a target. I sent Sword of Blight a transmission, requesting his memory log of the event he mentioned. To my surprise, I got it.
The system wasn’t one I was familiar with, although there were enough stars for me to triangulate the location. The sun was a red subgiant, holding over twelve planets in its gravitational grasp. Nine of those were life-factor planets, infested with Cassandrians. Enormous flotillas filled the void—more ships that I had seen in a single battle. Only on humanity’s side there were hundreds of thousands, and the Cassandrians were at least five times as much. That was the age of old battles, when humanity desperately threw everything they had in an attempt to stop the enemy’s advance. According to the in-system logs, though, this mission was different; this was an aggressive move on the Fleet’s part.
The third sacrificial diversion, I thought. I was looking at an operation that was referred to in every Fleet historical file as The Great Folly. Back then Command had given up trying to score victories on the Cassandrian front, opting to perform a series of large-scale sacrifices in the hopes they would divert the enemy’s attention, providing the central systems with additional time to prepare. However, in none of those records was it even mentioned that a Cassandrian race had been destroyed…
* * *
Sword of Blight, Erinna System, Cassandrian Front, 549.11 A.E. (Age of Expansion)
The enemy outnumbered us seven to one, though fighting them was a joke. They had no large-scale strategy, and their tactics were nowhere nearly as complicated as the Scuu. What they achieved they did through numbers and raw power. Even the systems they took were only in response to us. According to all simulations, they were useless in one-to-one combat, they suffered losses eight times worse than they should have in each battle, and yet they kept pushing us back.
“Transmission for you, captain.” I transferred it directly to the bridge. As with everything else, it was for human eyes only. Judging by my officers’ reactions, it would be a while before they brought me up to speed. Meanwhile, the battle outside was heating up.
The vanguard flotillas had already started breaking up the enemy front into segments. Only a few thousand ships had been destroyed so far, but damage was not the goal. The Cassandrians were simple to manipulate—no matter what happened, they remained reactive. If something did enough damage to them, they’d deploy their ships to deal the damage back.
“Blight, prepare for new orders,” my captain said. He was barely a child, fresh from the academy. Throwing him at the front was a questionable choice. With the losses humanity had been taking, it was all that could be spared; the veterans were needed for the Scuu front. “Priority zero override.” His voice was trembling. “A flotilla has been assigned to crash into the ship factories on the seventh planet. We’ve been designated as part of the communication bridge to ensure that their feeds reach HQ.”
Crash scouting. The Fleet had resorted to that a lot lately. An absurd tactic, although it tended to work. Cassandrians were a simple race; they guarded the things they valued and attacked what they considered to be a threat. In this case, it was easy to determine where their vital point was—the seventh and third planets. Both were surrounded by a belt of ships that remained static even if provoked. Attacking such a massive force had no prospects of success, unless an entire flotilla rammed through them like a wedge in complete disregard of its own safety.
“Defensive systems only,” my captain said. “Don’t fire unless attacked.” It was a rookie mistake. Being inoffensive wouldn’t save us, it only put the success of the mission at risk.
“All subroutines have been diverted to defense and comm systems, sir,” I responded. “Your instructions.”
“Establish an encrypted comm link with all ships of the attack flotilla and re-convey the feeds directly to HQ.”
“Establishing links, sir.”
Thousands of data bursts went through my comms like a missile salvo. Back on the Scuu front, no one would dare have so many open lines; they wouldn’t even have had one. The staff on the Cassandrian front were spoiled, clueless about how good they had it.
A mass priority zero command swept through a fraction of our fleet, coming directly from HQ: Commence Operation Cherry Pick.
A stupid name for an important project. The chances of success were well over ninety percent. The chances of the attack flotilla or me surviving were less than one. If it brought about the turn of the war, it would have been worth it.
“Wedge moving in position, Captain.” I displayed the image on the battle screens—basic simulation display, not the advanced graphics the kids used nowadays. Based on experience, it wouldn’t matter. The captain and the other officers didn’t care about the quality; they were too busy shitting their pants staring at the screens. None of them would have survived one month on the Scuu front.
Seventeen thousand, one hundred and two ships moved into formation, then thrust towards the Cassandrian barricade. The Cassies had learned how to use projectiles, so the front wave of our fleet had to act as a shield layer, mopping up enemy fire. That didn’t stop them from launching all volleys of their own.
Twenty-one minutes. That was the approximate amount of time it would take before the first series of fireworks erupted. Until then, everything was simulations. I dedicated a dozen subroutines I could spare to form my opinion. Naturally, I also displayed it on the bridge screens, making sure to mark it as a simulation. Most of the crew were so inexperienced they considered everything they saw as fact without bothering to think.
So far, the odds look quite in our favor. At most, seventy percent of the front layer would be destroyed, allowing the rest to punch through into planetary orbit. Then the tricky part would start. Fifteen thousand ships were nowhere near enough to cover an entire planet. Even with complex trajectory analytics, there was no guarantee any one of them would spot anything useful before they crashed to the surface. I suspected that a second wedge would follow. Command just hadn’t announced it for the sake of the people yet.
Combat in the rest of the system proceeded as expected. Falling prey to Fleet maneuvers, the Cassandrians were losing ships left and right. They lacked the ability to learn. One and the same lure maneuver had been used over a hundred times in this battle alone, and they still fell for it, sacrificing flotilla after flotilla. If it wasn’t for reinforcements jumping in, we could have even had a real chance of taking the system.
“Cassandrian wave is diverting from front zone gamma,” a mass transmission from HQ came in. “Good work, Erianna battle group! Primary objective has been completed.”
Cheers erupted on the bridge. It was so easy to lift morale. It was painful that no one considered that what we received was a thank you for our sacrifice.
“Primary wedge impact in ten seconds,” I announced.
Our missiles were considerably faster than the Cassandrians’. A few exploded mid-flight, colliding with enemy missiles—well within the ten percent tolerance range. The rest continued forward, burying themselves in the enemy ships—Kahra class vessels, the most common class the enemy had. Head readings indicated a mass of explosions creating a hole thousands of kilometers wide. Small enough not to be perceived as an urgent threat and large enough to let the remaining ships pass through. Ninety-three seconds later, a second series of explosions erupted, this time on our end.
“Forty percent of the vanguard has been destroyed,” I announced. “Main force continuing on.” So far, everything was within predicted parameters. The Cassandrians noticed our intent, attempting to rearrange their defensive layer and cover the breach, but they were too late. “Thirty-two minutes until orbit entry. No complications estimated.”
“What about reinforcements?” my captain asked. “When will they get here?”
“Reinforcements en route,” I said, giving the standard response. From a strategic point of view, it was more likely for us to receive an evacuation order than expect reinforcements.
The crew started arguing amongst themselves regarding the likelihood of survival. I had grown tired of those talks. They never brought anything positive. If there was a chance for me to save them, I would, but watching them grasp at straws wasn’t a productive pastime.
As the minutes wound down, the wedge got closer and closer to starting its actual mission. Failing to stop them in our forces in orbit, the Cassandrians proceeded to launch ships from the surface in a desperate effort to slow our progress. This was a terrible move on their part and all the better for us. Now there was no need to scour the entire planet. I followed the communications between the lead ships as they plotted their target zones—a hundred and eleven primary points of interest and eighty-two secondary sites. Now all that was left was to wait and observe.
“Entry successful. “I displayed a selection of live feeds on the bridge battle screens while simultaneously transferring the communication to Fleet HQ. From what I could tell, the Cassandrian shipyards were largely organic. With luck, one of the ships would manage to perform a composition analysis before their final shutdown. “Operation proceeding according to plan.”
Performing a scan of the system, I saw that a similar operation was underway on the third planet. Based on external analyses, it was also proceeding as planned.
“Warning!” came a priority zero message from HQ. “Deep probes have detected a large mass wave heading your way.”
“Cassandrian reinforcements?” My weapons officer asked. She was among the more experienced of my current crew, though not much by my standards.
“Estimated arrival in twenty seconds. Continue with ongoing missions. Do not retreat! I repeat, do not retreat! The information you are gathering is vital for the war effort!”
There it was—the snapping of the trap. Survival had never been an option, but now it was a race against the clock to transfer the data before the reinforcements wiped us out. Receiving authorization from my weapons officer, I armed all available missiles, ready to engage any threat that entered my firing zone. Then the new Cassandrian wave arrived.
It was nothing I could have predicted. In the past, Cassandrians always jumped on the edge of a star system, boosting their way towards the combat points. This time, they poured in in extreme proximity to the planets. Ships of an entirely unfamiliar design registered on my scanners—twice as large as the Kahra class and, based on my readings, much better equipped.
I expected most of them to fly to engage our fleets, flanking them in support of the ships already present. They did nothing of the sort. Millions of ships ignored us completely, targeting not our formations, but their own. All ships paused as the new Cassandrian force did in tens of minutes what we couldn’t achieve in weeks. Each of their attacks were precise and lethal, destroying the Kharas as if they were made of paper.
“What is going?” my captain whispered, unable to comprehend the feed I displayed on the screens. None of the other captains could, nor HQ.
Another mass jump event occurred. This time, the ships were far smaller, swarming exclusively towards the fifth planet. Another unidentified class, far more alien than any that had been catalogued in the Fleet database so far. Their target were the Cassandrian structures on the planet, swooping down along with the last quarter of the flotilla. It was as if I was observing two parallel wars, each uninterested in the other.
Then one of the Fleet ships fired a missile.
It was a standard procedure, likely a captain’s order to probe the new enemy with a warning shot. What it achieved was far more than that. The new Cassandrian fleet—focused solely on dismantling their own up to this point—suddenly changed priorities. They moved away from the old Kahra class ships and engaged us in full force, and unlike before, they had actual tactics.
“Abort the mission!” my captain shouted. “Get us out of here!”
“Unable to comply, sir,” I replied, freezing all manual input. There were a handful of cases in which a ship could lock out its captain, and this was one of them. The orders from HQ were absolute—I was to remain where I was and keep the transmission bridge until my final shutdown. “Thank you for your service.”
I had achieved what few other ships had—the first instance of Cassandrian infighting. If the tech teams at HQ could use this to their advantage, the sacrifice was more than worth it.
* * *
I went through the memory several times. This was the first time I had seen a Sword’s logic. It was well known that the ancient class was considered among those with the first conscience cores, and it showed. The ship felt sterile, alien, and at the risk of insulting them, almost AI in nature. They barely cared about their crews; they didn’t even see a point in remembering the names of their captains. Everything was one single mission.
There was no denying what Sword of Blight had seen was remarkable: a well-known historical battle that had almost nothing to do with the official record. The Great Folly had achieved much more than granting humanity a few more years; it had shown the first case of the Cassandrians cannibalizing their own. The feeds from the system, as well as those sent from the ships crashing into the planet, had allowed humanity to peek beyond the veil as to how the enemy functioned. They didn’t learn on their own; they learned by observing, and once a subspecies was deemed inefficient, it was consumed and replaced by another.
Blight of Swords hadn’t fired a single missile that day. That was how he had managed to survive. Through luck or coincidence, he had remained motionless in his position and watched the new Cassandrian ship classes destroy everything in the system. The old Cassandrian ships, the planet facilities, even the debris of the destroyed Fleet vessels. And when the entire system had been scraped clean, the new Cassandrian race had jumped out, leaving as if they had never been there. Disturbing didn’t begin to describe it.
“You’re absolutely sure about this, Blight?” Wilco asked. “I don’t want to blow the mission this early on.”
“As much as I can be,” Sword of Blight replied. “As long as we avoid the feeding grounds, they won’t interfere.”
There was a moment of silence. Everyone looked at the captain. The final decision was his.
“Elcy, take us to the third planet. Full speed, no course deviations.”
“Aye, captain.” I made the necessary navigation adjustments.
“And don’t get too close. We don’t want to be mistaken for rivals. We’re only to observe for now, nothing more.”
“Yes, sir.” Hopefully we wouldn’t end up like most ships of The Great Folly.
