Infinity

Alia was burning.

Technically, that was an exaggeration. Alia, as in the entirety of the planet, wasn't burning. The continent of Opeta wasn't burning. All that was burning on the planet's surface was the settlement of Melton, and it wasn't so big, or the fire so large, that it could be seen from orbit. Not without increasing the magnification of Infinity's planetary sensors at least. But, as far as Thomas Lasky was concerned, Alia was burning. It had been burnt, in the sense that no-one would ever come here again. Not while the Guardians ruled over this part of the galaxy, and many other parts as well.

"ETA for the Griffith?"

"One minute, twenty-five seconds."

"And the Darwin?"

"One minute, fifty-four seconds."

Lasky remained motionless. He didn't doubt Roland's word. Even as the years wore on, as the AI inched closer and closer to the precipice of Rampancy, he didn't doubt Roland's ability to function. Over the years, he'd never doubted his loyalty, even after more AIs flocked to the banners of the Created every month. But doubts of another kind…he had plenty of those. Doubts that he could never speak, even if they were the same doubts that much of humanity had. The same doubts that he could see in the eyes of every man, woman and child, both on this ship and off.

Doubts that humanity could ever do anything but submit to the Created, or flee. Technically, fighting was a third action, but...

Melton is burning.

One Guardian. Only one Guardian had been dispatched to the Morcom system. One Guardian had found a disparate group of refugees from Created worlds, who had managed to escape their gaze, and settle on a world that had been abandoned by the UEG during the Human-Covenant War. The Covenant hadn't been fought here, and the Covenant had never come here. But the Created had. One Guardian dispatched to the system, delivering judgement on those who had irked their masters by daring to live outside their control. That, in the mind of their leader, was apparently treason. So the Guardian had burnt it. The Infinity had come in response to their distress signals. The Infinity stood ready to take on the colony ships Griffith and Darwin, carrying over two-hundred souls from a colony that had once possessed over 20,000.

The Guardian was still there in orbit. A beam of energy was coming down from between its wings, striking the planet below. Like glassing, Lasky reflected, but with far more precision, far more energy efficiency (based on what the few scientists left in the galaxy could determine), and far more…more…

"Guardian is turning."

Horror, he realized. That was the word. "Horror." Horror that dwarfed even the Covenant. Because in over two decades of fighting the aliens bent on humanity's eradication, he'd learnt that as tough as the bastards were, they could still bleed, they could still die, and their ships, for all their might, weren't invincible. He'd fought in the knowledge that victory against the Covenant wasn't an impossibility, and been rewarded for his faith with such a victory. Been further rewarded with the command of humanity's most powerful warship after Requiem.

"Roland," he said. "Give me-"

"Griffith will arrive in thirty-two seconds, Darwin in fifty-seven seconds."

Lasky did the math – either the Griffith had sped up, or the Darwin was slowing down. Or both. Further doing the math, he realized that the Lord of Numbers hated him.

"Spin up slipspace drive," he said. "Prepare to jump on my mark."

The crew got busy. They'd done this more times than they could count. Quickly in, quickly out.

"Keep bay thirty-one open for the Griffith. Once it lands…close all hatches."

No-one looked at him. No-one questioned his orders. They had, once, only a few years ago. Years that seemed like a lifetime ago. In the old days, they'd tried to fight. In the old days, they'd nearly lost their ship.

"Guardian moving to engage," Roland said.

Lasky didn't ask for a projected firing range, or an ETA. They both knew how this was going to end. Both knew that they could do nothing to change it.

"Griffith is onboard," came the voice of one of his bridge crew."

"Engage the Palmer Protocol."

Palmer Protocol, Lasky reflected. Sarah hated having a protocol named after her that bid that any ship in the presence of a guardian engage in a random trajectory, lest they find any haven world. Anyone with a brain knew that it was the Cole Protocol given a different name. In the early days, some had suggested that they simply apply it. Lasky however, had disagreed. It was a new war. A new enemy. Preston Cole was dead. The Covenant was dead. Humanity was enslaved, as an alternative to death.

"Jumping in five…four…three…"

He'd long since cut the radio feed with the Darwin. He could imagine what they'd be saying. What they'd be feeling – feeling that they'd been betrayed, and saying the same things that everyone else they couldn't save would. As the universe danced towards oblivion, Lasky and his crew found themselves as bit players on the stage. He hoped it wasn't an idiot, but the story might signify nothing.

"Engaging slipspace drive."

Time, in all its majesty, seemed to slow, as the Infinity tethered on the edges of the real and the immaterial. Time enough for Lasky to see the universe bend before him. Enough to see the Guardian fire its plasma beam, incinerating the Darwin. Enough to see the beam bend, as space was distorted all around them. Time, after an eternity, resumed to its normal course, as they entered slipspace. Away from the Guardian. Away from Alia. Away from an enemy that they couldn't even fight.

"And we're away," Roland said. He looked at Lasky. "I'd say good job, but…"

Lasky didn't answer him. It wasn't a barb. No-one gave barbs nowadays. Maybe Sarah, maybe Halsey, but that was it. Barbs could give you a prick to keep going, but at the end of the day, barbs drew blood. Far too match of it had been spilled already.

So he stood there, looking out into the darkness of slipspace. Half an hour from now, they'd re-emerge in real-space, get their bearings, and find a way back home. And then the cycle would begin again. A cycle that would never end. A cycle that was…

"Infinity," Lasky murmured.

If Roland or any of his other crew heard him, they gave no sign. Not that he cared – infinity. He was looking at infinity – an infinity of flight rather than fight, death and slavery, the beginning and the end. He was commanding the most powerful human warship in existence, and it too was a slave to infinity. A slave to its very namesake. Fated to do this over and over, until its engines burnt out, the stars burnt out, or more likely, its luck ran out. Or a miracle occurred, but Lasky had lived through one miracle in his life so far, in regards to the fate of humanity. He wasn't counting on another.

So he stood and stared into the darkness of slipspace.

Infinity looked back at him.