Page 38 of The Space Traveller's Lover
TAKEOVER
“What has to happen will happen.”
“I can feel the space-time waves vibrating through my body,” Kuzhma-Or roars as he surveys the gleaming surface of the UniverseScope platform while Athguer is sitting by his side.
Like a perfectly choreographed squadron of giant incandescent rockets, the Rom-Ghenshars’ Invincible Grand Fleet suddenly emerges at the outskirts of the extended ring of iced rocky objects surrounding the solar system, the Oort Cloud.
In a seamlessly synchronised manoeuvre, the milliards-strong mothership fleet spreads out into a vast semicircular formation.
Their fuselage rings blaze in an intense blue glow as they widen and swivel until they lock into position.
Expanding over ten astronomical units wide and five units deep, the swarming mothership fleet seems bound to infiltrate the solar system’s defenceless outer domains.
Kuzhma-Or tilts his head back and breathes in deeply in infinite self-satisfaction.
“Faultless!” he booms. “Can’t wait to reach Ankjeshur. Our biggest, most challenging mission yet.”
“Ah, the great giant globular cluster! Rothwen will conquer all of it in no time,” Athguer proudly declares .
As Athguer mentions Rothwen’s name, they get a message from him with his current coordinates. Immediately, Athguer zooms in onto the precise location with a thought-command.
The seemingly endless sleek hull of a glistening spaceship points right at them, its sharp nose tilting upward, poised at a steep angle.
The rows of flickering orange spotlights along its smooth elongated body make it look like the giant lead mothership is softly breathing while the thick rim of its triple synchrotron rings, flashing in an incandescent blue glow, makes it look like it’s about to jet off.
Like a stalking predator, the massive spaceship, five hundred kilometres from stem to stern and one hundred kilometres in diameter at its widest, is ominously hovering by the dark side of the Moon, unseen and unsuspected by its potential victims.
“ Ei Reishojen ” ( The Prestige ). Athguer jumps from his seat. “He has brought in The Prestige !”
But Kuzhma-Or hardly reacts, stoically raising one of his thick eyebrows.
“Hmm. As I expected,” he rumbles. “Our master navigator never leaves anything incomplete. He never flees from anything—nothing!” Kuzhma-Or stands up, his face flaring up in an exultant gesture.
“That is why he’s so infuriatingly good. ”
“I guess he brought his commanding mothership to finish here even quicker,” Athguer surmises.
“Yes, Athguer, in whatever way he is thinking of finishing it.”
“We have agreed with Zula-Or. We know what is going to happen, don’t we?”
“I’ll reserve judgement until we leave for Omega Centauri. But in any case, he’ll have to face the Great Ancestors Council for any of his misdeeds.” Kuzhma-Or glowers while exhaling loudly.
They keep tracking Rothwen’s movements as he sets off from The Prestige in one of the departure-crafts. The breathtaking speed he’s flying at tells them they won’t have to wait long before seeing him entering the UniverseScope. The glowing countdown swiftly rolls back from T-200 (seconds).
Rothwen’s impetuous entrance electrifies the confined air of the arena.
A muffled metallic crackle spreads throughout the dense atmosphere as the guardian robots rise in unison when he suddenly walks in and directly looks at them with his penetrating gauging gaze.
With a brief thought-command, he orders them all to sit down.
Rothwen’s eyes blaze in an unflinching glow as he stares expectantly at Kuzhma-Or.
“Seya” (Welcome)! Kuzhma-Or greets his master navigator with a tense, albeit forbearing glare.
“Ai yei seinekh, Yei Boishen” (All my respects to you, My Commander), Rothwen declares, bowing in deep reverence before walking towards Kuzhma-Or and Athguer in long fast strides.
As Kuzhma-Or and Rothwen greet each other, crossing their hands over their chests in their solemn army salute, their past quarrels and disagreements seem to be long-forgotten. The welcoming smile from Athguer as they embrace each other softens the mood even further.
“You are right on time, Rothwen. Most of the reconstruction has finished. We are ready to depart.” Kuzhma-Or cheers.
“I was making sure everything is in place for our planned departure and our next mission,” Rothwen announces, his smug glare of total confidence fully pleasing Kuzhma-Or.
“Not much of a challenge for you,” Athguer quips while looking admiringly at Rothwen.
“I have set all the takeover-grid coordinates for every single planet, major or minor. I have set up every departure stage in The Prestige in minute detail and every hyperspace sequence in the Grand Fleet’s motherships.
” As Rothwen speaks, Kuzhma-Or’s face beams with the anticipated thoughts of victory.
But there is still an uncanny, unsettling question in the air as Rothwen recounts all his exploits and preparations.
Finally, a brief haunting silence makes it clear.
Rothwen is well aware that Kuzhma-Or and Athguer are keen to know about his plans for Shaillah as he stares at them defiantly, avoiding mentioning her name altogether.
Athguer is the first to break up the blatant expectation.
“I’m sure you know about Shaillah’s current state of mind. She won’t talk to anybody, not even Zula,” Athguer mentions cautiously.
Rothwen presses his lips together, folding his arms and staring into the distance as he considers his options.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that this obsession of mine has to end now.
Shaillah will have to decide for herself what she’s going to do.
But above all, she has to accept our actions.
I will make sure of that,” he impassively says.
“Shrena” (Exactly), Kuzhma-Or boastfully rumbles. Then he sends the entangled signal to all the motherships, activating the fleet of destroyer-crafts. “Kleehern” (Deploy)!
With their long, spiky bodies, the destroyer-crafts, fully armoured with plasma rays and antimatter cannons, suddenly eject from their holding vaults, deep in the bowels of The Prestige and every Grand Fleet’s mothership.
Aligning in multiple conical grids, rapidly extending as even more crafts join in, they twist and turn as if they were part of a single throbbing living system, destroying any obstacle that gets in their way, rocketing in and out of the raiding network’s hyperspace.
Their takeover is swift and overwhelming, surrounding every planet and its moons, sweeping and penetrating their defenceless domains.
“This was going to be the first stage of the plan—until we had to change it, at your request, Rothwen.” Kuzhma-Or fumes with a seething gaze at Rothwen.
But as the supreme commander watches the destroyer-crafts’ unstoppable advance, surrounding and then pulverising all the human spaceships and interplanetary bases, the writhing spirit of overdue revenge fills his indomitable soul with immense satisfaction.
“We’ve come to an end—in reverse order—but we’ve come to the long-awaited end,” Kuzhma-Or gloats in his booming voice.
“What has to happen will happen,” Rothwen glowers, crinkling the corners of his eyes as they all haughtily watch the unrelenting takeover scenes unfold.
As the ever-expanding network of destroyer-crafts enmeshes the outer planetary region and its forefront convoy from The Prestige surrounds the inner planets, and within them, the Earth and its Moon, Kuzhma-Or and Athguer closely follow the takeover manoeuvres, relishing in their might and invincibility.
But soon, Rothwen takes his chance to leave the UniverseScope furtively. He can’t wait to see Shaillah.