The Lion and the Unicorn

by Christopher G. Nuttall

He felt as if he’d moved beyond any feeling at all. The missiles had adapted rapidly, drawing on updated targeting protocols from the gunboats, but … he swallowed, hard, as the enemy rebooted their command and control networks. Their point defence was improving with every passing second. An enemy battleship casually swatted a dozen missiles out of space, picking them off with brutal efficiency. He couldn’t tell if they’d hit the missiles though sheer luck, excellent sensor locks or some combination of the two. The battleship was certainly pumping out enough plasma bolts to target each and every flicker on the sensor displays. Better to waste shots than risk allowing a missile too close to the brainships.

  His fingers kept moving, steering the missiles through the enemy defences and hurling them towards their targets. His clusters dropped in and out of his command net as communications links broke, then rebuilt themselves. He gambled, directing one cluster towards an alien cruiser to blow it out of the way, allowing the remaining clusters to fall on the brainship. The alerted enemy fired madly, their starfighters joining the fray instead of heading towards the gunboats. Tobias breathed a sigh of relief as the brainship exploded. The enemy hadn’t made the connection between the gunboats and the missiles. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

  Don’t count on it, he told himself. Another brainship exploded, leaving one. Just one. The virus will figure it out, sooner or later …

  Marigold sucked in her breath. “They’re altering course,” she said. “The starfighters are coming for us.”

  Tobias nodded, feeling his heart sink. Starfighters were faster than gunboats and, worse, had sharper acceleration curves. They could jump to full speed practically instantly. They’d be on the gunboats before they had a chance to widen the range. He watched the last missiles explode against enemy defences, then adjusted the display to follow the enemy starfighters as they picked up speed. Marigold had been right. Hundreds of starfighters were bearing down on them.

  “Point defence online,” he said, as he keyed his console. “We’re ready.”

  “A handful are altering course to circumvent us,” Marigold said. “The remainder are heading right for us.”

  Tobias frowned. The starfighters were behaving oddly. Did they intend to rocket past the gunboats, then return in hopes of catching the human pilots in a crossfire? It would have been successful against human starfighters, but gunboats could fire in multiple directions simultaneously. Sure, he’d have problems engaging them … he smirked, knowing it wouldn’t matter. A combination of a starship-grade tactical datanet and his automated servants would ensure the enemy starfighters bit off more than they could chew. Gunboats had no real blind spots. And a squadron of gunboats could put out more point defence than a destroyer.

  “I’m ready,” he said. He felt his smirk grow wider as more and more gunboats joined the command network. They didn’t have to hide any longer. They could unleash the full potential of their systems. “Try not to let them get a bead on us.”

  “Teach your grandmother to suck eggs,” Marigold said, without heat. “The moment you open fire, they’ll know where you are.”

  “Yeah.” Tobias glanced at the network of decoy drones keeping pace with the gunboats. The enemy might believe there were hundreds of gunboats, but that would change the moment the gunboats opened fire. Sensor ghosts couldn’t pump out real plasma bolts. The navy had been working on ways to convince long-range sensors the ghosts were real, but so far none of the tricks had proven workable in the real world. “And they’ll know where you are, too.”

  “Smartass,” Marigold said. She frowned as more red icons appeared on the display. “Their entire fleet is starting to come after us.”

  “That’s a little overkill,” Tobias said. A computer game might have thousands of enemy dreadnaughts chasing single starfighters, but it never happened in the real world. No space navy was so large … his heart skipped a beat as he realised what was actually happening. “They’re not coming after us, they’re coming after Lion!”

  Marigold said nothing for a long moment, then clicked her tongue. “There’s nothing we can do about it,” she said, as the enemy starfighters closed on the gunboats. “We’ll just have to look after ourselves.”

  Tobias shivered. Lion was their only way home. They’d discussed contingency plans if something happened to the mothership, but none had been very comforting. They might be picked up by Unicorn, they might be able to remain hidden until the human race launched a major counteroffensive, they might be able to land on Farnham itself … Tobias shook his head. He’d read too many horror stories about kids being dumped on planets and expected to fend for themselves. Kids like him always died first, killed by boys like Colin. And girls like Marigold got raped …

  He put the thought out of his head. “Here they come,” he said. “Firing … now.”

  ***

  “Captain,” Cook said. “Unicorn reports that the enemy flicker station has been destroyed.”

  Thomas nodded, curtly. It was useful - if nothing else, the enemy would have to waste time and resources replacing the lost platform - but right now it didn’t matter. The entire enemy fleet was coming after him, led by the sole surviving brainship. He had to admit it wasn’t a bad tactic. The virus wanted - needed - to either capture or destroy the battlecruiser before she made her escape. And while Lion could outrun the heavy ships, she couldn’t outrun the starfighters.

  He narrowed his eyes as the enemy fleet picked up speed. They were accelerating faster than he’d thought possible, a grim reminder that the virus could innovate too. He shuddered as he remembered some of the speculative reports he’d read, the ones classified so highly he wouldn’t even have known they existed if the admiral hadn’t thought he needed to know. The virus seemed to get smarter in large concentrations. The thought of how much brainpower it could bring to bear on specific problems was terrifying. And it had access to everything it knew …

  “Stand by point defence,” he ordered. The enemy fleet was a danger - to Lion and the system beyond - as long as the sole surviving brainship remained intact. It had to be taken out. And yet, he couldn’t see how to do it. The enemy was alert, ready to shoot down his missiles. He might get lucky or he might expend his remaining missiles, shooting himself dry in a failed attempt to take it out. “Order the gunboats to move back to cover us.”

  A thought struck him. It would be risky. Incredibly risky. But it could be done.

  His mind raced. Captain Campbell would authorise the mission in seconds. Thomas knew himself to be a great deal more cautious. And yet … he was short on options. They might manage to outrun the enemy fleet, staying ahead of the big guns long enough to jump through the tramline, but the enemy ships might follow them though. The Americans could handle the fleet, at the risk of weakening their defences. No, he had to stop the enemy fleet if possible. And if that meant putting his people in danger …

  They’re already in danger, he thought. Better to be hanged for a sheep than a lamb.

  He keyed his console, his lips twitching at the absurdity of the joke. “Major Craig,” he said, calmly. “I have a job for you.”

  ***

  “I want to take my sick leave, Corporal,” Private Davies said. “I have this terrible pain in my back.”

  “Yeah,” Private Willis agreed. “And when I close my eyes I can’t see!”

  Colin glared at them both as the assault shuttle disengaged from the battlecruiser and glided into interplanetary space. It was a tiny craft, compared to a standard shuttle - let alone a full-fledged starship - but he was all too aware they might be detected, mistaken for a weapon and blown to atoms before they knew they were under attack. There was even a possibility their own side would mistake them for an enemy weapon and kill them, without ever knowing what they’d done. He felt sick as he settled back into the acceleration couch, sick and utterly alone in the midst of a crowd. He’d told everyone he was brave - he knew he was - but right now he felt like a coward. The thought of being killed was one thing. The thought of being swa
tted out of existence was quite another.

  “I’m sure the medics will have a field day with the pair of you,” he said, finally. The shuttle was barely large enough to accommodate two fire teams and a pilot. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing. It would have been easier to cope, he thought, if he wasn’t responsible for nine other men. “They’ll have a lot of fun pouring cod liver oil down your throats.”

  He shuddered at the thought, forcing himself to keep one eye on the display. He wasn’t in control. No one, not even the pilot, was wholly in control. He reminded himself, sharply, that he’d taken part in more dangerous exercises … but he’d had more control in a dinghy than on the shuttle. The mission depended on remaining quiet until the enemy ships entered attack range … he swallowed, hard, at the sheer immensity of what they were about to do. The briefing had been very quick, so quick he knew his superiors hadn’t had time to make any real plans. They’d have to play it by ear.

  His balls itched, threatening to crawl upwards as he looked at the backpack nukes. He knew they were safe, he knew there was no radiation leaking from the featureless devices, but he didn’t believe it. Radiation was an unseen threat, something he couldn’t sense until it was too late … he’d heard the horror stories from men who’d fought on radioactive battlefields, stories that had chilled him. It had been worse during meltdowns … he’d seen the video of something going wrong on Einstein Station. The experimental reactor had killed everyone on the station. The asteroid had had to be directed into the sun.

  “The battlefront is about to pass over us,” the pilot warned. “Get ready.”

  Get ready for what? Colin gritted his teeth. Pilots were renowned for bad jokes - it was said pilots had no sense of humour - but he would sooner have had terrible jokes than yet another reminder they were in the middle of a battlefield, practically naked. Arsehole.

  He kept his eye on the display, feeling as if the world was somehow unreal. It was hard to draw a line between the icons on the screen and the real world. He’d always been aware of his surroundings on a dingy, but here … there was no hint the shuttle was so much as moving, there was no suggestion the outside world was even real. He closed his eyes, centring himself. It was hard to focus. The old sweats claimed one got used to it, but …

  “Five seconds,” the pilot said. “Get ready.”

  Colin opened his eyes. The display showed the enemy brainship, weapons blazing as it fired on … something. Colin hoped it was shooting at decoys or incoming missiles … or something, anything, other than marine shuttles. If it spotted the shuttle, it could kill the shuttle. The pilot had used gas jets to steer into the enemy ship’s path, which were - in theory - invisible …

  And half the company is probably going to miss their targets, he thought. The shuttles could catch the capital ships, at the risk of being detected and killed. No, it wasn’t a risk. At such close range, detection was certain. We might be the only ones who land safely.

  He heard someone praying, behind him. He didn’t look. He didn’t want to know.

  “Contact!” The shuttle rocked, sharply, as the pilot triggered the cutters. Alerts flashed on the display as the superhot beam melted through enemy armour. Anyone unlucky enough to be on the far side would be dead before they knew what had hit them. “Go!”

  Colin pulled himself free of the straps, snatched up one of the nukes and ran for the hatch.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The air inside the alien ship felt hot, even though Colin was wearing a full-fledged combat suit. He told himself, sharply, he was imagining it. His HUD told him things he hadn’t wanted to know about the atmosphere, starting with the grim fact it was teeming with biological matter. The virus had infected the ship so thoroughly it practically was the ship, bonding the host bodies and its electronic servants into a giant collective mind. He felt sweat prickling down his back as he led the way into the ship, passing through the melted remnants of corridors and compartments. The cutter had wrecked horrific damage on the enemy ship’s innards. It was hard to believe it was barely a scratch.

  But it is, he thought, as they poked through a gash in an inner bulkhead. The ship hadn’t slowed one iota. If they could have crippled the ship without boarding her, they would have crammed the shuttle with nukes and sent her in on automatic.

  He forced himself to keep moving as they made their way further into the ship. They had to move fast. The virus already knew they were there. It had sensed the death of so many particles … he was sure of it. The corridors were slightly larger than standard, somewhat to his surprise, illuminated by dull red lights that seemed to have been emplaced at random. The xenospecialists had suggested the virus might use corridors, rather than specialised tubes, to move munitions and supplies around the ship, but he had a feeling the virus didn’t bother to standardize its host bodies. An infected human might work next to an alien whose species effectively no longer existed. He shivered as droplets of liquid condensed on his helmet. If he took off his suit, he’d be infected within seconds. He’d have to hope his squad could get him back to the ship in time for treatment or he’d wind up an alien slave …

  “Down there, I think,” Willis said, pointing to a sealed airlock. “The map’s not very good.”

  Colin laughed as they hastily fixed charges to the hatch and took cover. That was the understatement of the century. The navy had done its best to chart out the interior of enemy ships, but even the most arrogant spooks had to admit their knowledge was limited. The virus didn’t just infest ships. It threw their interiors together seemingly at random. What was true for one ship might not be true for the remainder of her class. The spooks had found it odd - and the starship designers considered it crazy - but Colin thought he understood. The virus knew the ship intimately. It was a single entity. It didn’t have to worry about sticking to a single design.

  The charges exploded. He threw a pair of antiviral grenades through what remained of the hatch, then hurried forward. A decaying mass of jelly greeted his eye, quivering unsteadily as it melted into a puddle. He had the uneasy sense he was staring at something completely alien as his HUD blinked a whole new set of alarms … and, worse, that the entity was looking back. The blob dissolved faster, revealing a handful of host bodies. They were so badly warped he didn’t recognise the species. Humans? Tadpoles? Something he’d never even dreamed existed? He didn’t know.

  “Fire,” he snapped.

  He raised his plasma rifle and opened fire. Bursts of superhot plasma tore through the alien flesh, blowing the host bodies into bloody chunks. He felt sick, remembering - again - why plasma weapons were technically forbidden … or had been, before the war. It wasn’t just that they could overheat and explode, although that was a very real risk. It was that they were almost always lethal. Very few people survived a direct hit, even if they were heavily armoured. Colin had been told, more than once, that the only reason the troops were issued plasma weapons was because the virus’s host bodies were very hard to put down. The plasma would burn through the virus as well as the host.

  The blob exploded, pieces of gunk flying everywhere. Colin tried not to think about the shit clinging to him, even as more antiviral grenades detonated. He’d need to go through a full decontamination procedure when he got back to the ship. He put the thought aside as he plunged onwards, peering further into the bowels of the infected craft. The mist was growing stronger, curling around them like something out of a bad fantasy. He’d seen mist on the Beacons, where he’d trained, but … this was worse. Far worse. He fired a plasma shot down the corridor. The spark vanished within the mist, lost without a trace.

  “Hold this position,” he ordered. He unslung the nuke, then pressed it against the far bulkhead. He wasn’t sure if there was any point in trying to hide it within the rubble or not - he honestly didn’t know if enough viral cells remained within the compartment to keep it aware of what the humans were doing - but there was no point in taking chances. “Get ready to run.”

  “They’re
coming back,” Willis said. “I can sense them.”

  Colin glanced up. The mist was growing thicker. There were sensors mounted in their suits, but the virus seemed to be jamming them. He made a face as he turned back to the nuke, keying the authorisation code into the device and setting the timer. He’d never heard of a starship mounting onboard jamming technology to confuse boarders, but he supposed it made a certain kind of sense. A human ship that tried would jam her own systems as well as the enemy’s; the virus, he conceded, didn’t need to worry about it. Light flared as more antiviral grenades were hurled into the mist. It didn’t seem to clear.

  “The device is ready,” he said. He was careful not to say anything more about the nuke, not in clear. The virus could understand, if it was hacking their communications. “Throw the final grenades, then move.”

  The deck quivered under his feet as the grenades detonated. The virus wouldn’t be more than mildly inconvenienced, if that, but it would hopefully delay matters long enough for them to get back to the shuttle. He knew through bitter experience that mounting a counterattack wasn’t easy, even though the virus had an unfair advantage. It would be in worse trouble when the shuttle departed, he was sure. The gash in the hull couldn’t be sealed in a hurry. He doubted the ship would depressurise completely, but the sudden need to seal off the entire section wouldn’t make things any easier for the virus. The damage they’d done to an internal hatch might vent more of the interior than he dared hope …

  “Shit,” Davies said, as something exploded ahead of them. “Sir …”

  Colin swore as mist rushed past them, towards the shuttle … no, towards where the shuttle had been. Someone had blown the shuttle off the hull. A mistake? Had one of the gunboats fired on the shuttle? It didn’t seem likely. The gunboats were needed elsewhere. They would have been blown out of space if they’d put that consideration aside and flown into the teeth of enemy fire. One of the enemy starfighters had taken out the shuttle and stranded them …