by Craig Allen
“Our friends in an approaching ship are in trouble,” Cody said. “Their engines stopped working when they got close.”
“Just like the hopper,” Sonja said.
Stripe stared at Sonja then at the screen as the scene unfolded.
The Hive altered course from heading directly into the sun to bypassing it. She would brush the corona, not something a space vessel was designed to do.
The Odin continued to drift as the Hive passed. Then, the Odin changed course on her own, drifting farther away from the Hive at a rapid pace.
“She got her engines back online,” Gaston said.
“I don’t think so, sir.” Sonja zoomed in on the Odin, specifically on her engines. “Her plates are dead.”
“Then how the hell is she moving?” Galloway asked.
Within a minute, the Odin was five thousand kilometers away from the Hive. Her grav plates came online, glowing a bright blue, and the ship accelerated away.
“Copy your transmission, Banshee One Eight.” The comm indicated the message was from the Odin. “Sorry we can’t help.”
“Understood, Odin,” Gaston responded. “Keep yourselves safe. There was a way onto this tub. We’ll find a way off.”
“Good luck. Don’t end up among God’s own.”
The expression was something marines dreaded. “God’s own” were those who died in military service.
The comm went quiet for a moment, then Jericho’s voice came on. “This is Fleet Actual. We’ll see what we can do on our end.”
“Understood, Admiral.” Gaston leaned back in the seat and stared at the comm. “Leave the channel open in case they have anything for us.”
“Aye, sir,” Sonja said.
Sonja glanced at Cody, and he winked at her. He didn’t want to tell her what he was thinking. Wherever the Hive was going, they were going with it, and they couldn’t do anything.
~~~
Jericho stared at the large hologlobe on the bridge of the Tokugawa as he mulled over the situation. The Hive would brush past the sun and then be on course for the planet.
“Orders, sir?”
Lieutenant Commander Paulson stood at the ready, waiting patiently. However, Jericho had no idea what to do. They couldn’t approach the Hive without a ship getting shut down. They’d have to wait until the Hive was far enough from the sun so that ships didn’t get cooked. They had no choice but to wait and hope the crew of the Olympus Mons had an idea.
Klaxons disrupted the admiral’s thoughts, and a squad of marines dashed onto the bridge, all bearing coil rifles. The Tokugawa’s automated alert system explained what was going on: “Intruder alert. Main bridge.”
Standing in front of the viewing globe was... a humanoid shape. That was all he could think to describe it. Red snakelike creatures swarmed over one another, forming a humanoid puppet standing patiently. Arms emerged from the torso, then hands formed at the ends of the arms. The hands grasped each other behind the back. Soon, the red shape took on a skin tone and even hair. Clothing appeared, consisting of standard BDUs.
Jericho walked down the steps toward the viewing globe, careful to maintain a distance from the marines nearby. The entity turned in place without moving its feet. A face formed.
“You.” Jericho gestured at the marines, and they lowered their rifles.
The woman took a step forward, as if using her legs for the first time. Admiral Jericho recognized her from her file: Private Ann Salyard of the Spinoza, which had crashed nearly a year before. The private had died a few weeks later, nearly eaten alive by a creature of Kali, before she detonated a fuse grenade that killed both her and the predator consuming her.
But the woman before him wasn’t Salyard. She wasn’t even human.
“Why are you here?” Jericho asked. “After all this time, you finally decide to make contact again?”
The woman didn’t move. She didn’t even blink. The form before Jericho was nothing more than a puppet created by the Reed Entity. Somehow, the entity had copied her DNA and learned about human form. The Entity had previously taken that shape when interacting with humans.
“I am unable to make contact.” Her voice sounded very human, practically Ann Salyard’s in every respect.
“You’re making contact now.”
“No,” she said. “That is not what I mean.”
When she didn’t continue, Jericho spoke. “What is it you wish?”
The woman stared for a moment before answering. “We need to advance the timetable.”
“What timetable?” Jericho glanced around the bridge, but everyone simply stared.
The Ann-puppet tilted her head slightly. “You don’t know. Interesting.”
“Then tell me,” Jericho said. “What is this timetable?”
“I wish to contact your superiors, who are refusing to answer. Inform them there has been a complication. I would reach them if I could.”
Jericho snorted. “You don’t have the authority.”
For a moment, she did nothing. Then, numbers scrolled across the viewing globe. She turned to stare at the numbers, but when her gaze fell on the Hive, the view on the globe zoomed in on the structure.
“Who authorized changing the view?” Jericho glanced around the crew, but everyone shook their heads.
“There is my access code.” She pointed at the numbers on the hologlobe.
“And is that the complication?” Jericho pointed at the Hive. “Is that why you need to advance this timetable?”
The Ann-puppet faced Jericho once again. “If your people want what I know, you will advance the timetable.”
The face of the woman vanished, replaced by red tentacles. Her entire form turned to red, writhing snakes, which then vanished into thin air.
The bridge remained quiet. Jericho stared at the numbers on the viewing globe, which flashed green. The message Code Accepted appeared beneath the numbers.
“Contact UEAF at Spican command,” Jericho said. “Send them that conversation and tell them we’d like to know what’s going on.”
The Tokugawa’s comm officer nodded.
As if things couldn’t get worse. Jericho pinched the bridge of his nose. “Banshee One Eight, do you read?”
He heard a gargle of transmission then a loud crack, followed by Gaston shouting commands.
Oh hell. Jericho knew the sound of coil-gun fire all too well.
~~~
Cody hid behind the hopper as coil-gun rounds bounced off the hull on the other side. The crew scrambled for weapons aboard the hopper, but not enough were on board. The fliers had taken to the air at the first sign of gunfire.
His thoughts raced. The fliers couldn’t be firing on them. They didn’t have access to those weapons, and even if they did, they didn’t have the physical ability to use human weapons. Not to mention they had no reason to attack the crew of the Olympus Mons.
That meant someone else was on the station with them.
He risked a glance around the side of the hopper. A dark, froglike shape appeared over a rise in the distance, holding a coil gun in some sort of harness that allowed the central arm on its back to operate the weapon. It opened up on the hopper with a G1 Gauss gun, known as a Gus Ace by marines.
Sonja pulled him back behind cover. “Goddamn it, Cody, are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Did you see that?” Cody asked.
“Yeah. Toads.” She leaned against the hopper and checked her coil pistol. “Keep your head down before you get your ass shot off.”
Cody sneaked a glance at the toads. “How’d they get on board?”
“They got by us somehow,” she said. “Those nipples opened for us. Why not them too?”
“They wouldn’t have gotten by the fleet,” Cody said. “Unless they’re using that stealth drive.”
“God, I hope not.”
Cody thought of checking the battle again but kept his head down. “Or they were already here.”
Sonja shrugged. “Didn’t they find this
thing on the outer edge of the system?”
“They could’ve boarded before we found the Hive and gotten stuck here,” Cody said. “If that’s the case, though, I wonder why they waited until now to show themselves.”
“That’s the least of our problems.” Sonja peeked around the corner. “They’re getting closer. Let’s get up by the nose.”
Cody followed Sonja to the front of the hopper. He ducked down and got a look at the battle under the landing gear. The crew had taken up positions behind a small berm, firing coil rifles and even coil pistols. Toads had gathered behind another berm and were trading shots with the crew. Misses either created small craters in the pseudo dirt or ricocheted off the hopper.
Cody stood. “What do we do?”
“Wish we had the cherries,” Sonja said. “They’re still in the hopper.”
From the berm, they almost had a clear view into the hopper via the rear hatch, which faced the battle. Anyone entering the hatch was going to get fired upon, and enviro-suits offered minimal protection against rounds traveling several times the speed of sound. But that didn’t mean he had to enter the hopper via the rear hatch.
“We can get to the weapons locker.” Cody pointed at the co-pilot’s hatch on the side facing away from the battle.
“But we can’t get them to the commander,” Sonja said. “We step out there, and we get shot.”
Coil-gun fire whizzed over the hopper, which meant it was well over the heads of the people the toads were shooting at. A shadow covered the hopper briefly, then Stripe landed next to Cody. Two other fliers plopped down next to him. Stripe hopped over with a viewer in his hand, as if nothing was wrong.
“What the hell?” Sonja stood toe-to-toe with Stripe, who didn’t flinch. “Are you out of your fucking minds? You’re going to get yourself killed.”
Stripe showed Cody a viewer.
Our minds are intact without fucking or we would not be able to speak to you.
“If you stay out in the open like that, your minds will be blown all over the goddamn ground,” Sonja said. “Why’d you come here anyway?”
We are worried about you and will help you so you can get back home.
“The best you can do is get to safety.” Cody nudged them, which was like nudging a statue. “The toads want us. The question is why.”
“They want the hopper,” Sonja said. “My money is they’re stuck here, and they think the hopper is their ticket out.”
Cody hadn’t thought of that, but at that point, he didn’t care. “Look, just leave before the toads get too close.”
We cannot find rocks to drop as our ancestors did before when fighting those that hunt us.
“Drop?” Cody’s mind raced. He ducked and looked at the battle again.
Two crewmen were lying on the ground, and the toads had advanced closer.
“I’ve got an idea.” Cody popped open the co-pilot’s hatch.
“Cody!” Sonja started in after him. “Goddamn it. I hate it when you run off like this.”
Cody climbed over the co-pilot’s seat and into the hopper bay. Through the rear hatch, he saw a single toad firing his G-1. The toad did a double take in his direction and opened fire.
Cody pressed himself against the port-side lockers, trying to keep out of sight of the distant toads. He was spotted anyway. A dozen rounds ricocheted around the hopper’s interior. One whizzed past Cody’s ear.
Sonja crouched and opened fire with her coil pistol. Cody would’ve been deafened if not for the audio dampeners inside his ear. Outside, the toad’s head split down the middle from the high-speed projectiles. It fell behind a berm.
“Cody, get your ass back here now!”
Cody wanted to, more than anything, but he had to retrieve what he came for first. All the weapons lockers sat open, devoid of weapons except for one. A set of fuse grenades on a belt hung inside the locker.
Fuse grenades, or “cherries,” as marines called them, released a burst of high-intensity plasma into a tiny receptacle of heavy hydrogen, creating a miniaturized nuclear detonation measured in meters instead of the hundreds of kilometers of damage caused by tactical torpedoes. The effect, despite the limited range, was the same.
And it gave Cody an idea. He snagged the entire belt.
Sonja grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the cockpit, firing through the open hatch. Incoming rounds bounced off the cockpit canopy, nicking it but not penetrating the clear polymer. Cody fell out the co-pilot hatch with Sonja, who kicked the door shut.
Stripe stood over them as he held his viewer over their heads.
You take great risks for your people and we will do the same as the toads will come for us as well as you if they kill your people which we hope they won’t.
“You want to help?” Cody stood and pulled a fuse grenade off the belt.
Sonja grimaced. “I like the idea, so long as they don’t drop them on everyone else.”
“They won’t.” Cody explained as quickly as he could how to operate the grenades. “Drop them over the toads. Get as high as you can, first. Just make sure you don’t drop them anywhere near our people, or they’ll die, too.”
Stripe let the viewer fall as he took the grenade. The other two fliers hobbled forth with their claws out, and Cody handed them grenades as well.
Still holding the grenade, Stripe turned one of his five digits on his central claw upward, emulating a human thumbs-up. The electromagnetic sensors on Cody’s suit’s sensors spiked, and all three hoppers launched into the air. Coil-gun rounds zipped through the air overhead.
“The hell?” Gaston’s voice came over the local comm system. “Hey, what the hell are the buzzards doing here? They’re going to get their big asses shot down.”
“They’re going to help, Commander,” Cody said.
Sonja’s lips tightened as the fliers circled upward rapidly in the thin air. “All units, stand by for artillery.”
“Artillery?” Galloway asked. “How the hell did they get… Oh shit.”
The fliers were a good hundred meters off the ground when they dropped the grenades.
“Fire in the hole,” Sonja said and ducked.
Cody did the same as Gaston sounded a retreat. Crewmen laid down covering fire as they retreated. Seconds later, the grenades detonated.
The blast rocked the hopper, and Cody nearly fell over. At that precise moment, he realized the grenades might be powerful enough to blow a hole in the Hive itself, in which case they would all be sucked into the vacuum of space.
Seconds later, the blast wave ceased, and the world grew quiet again. When he felt no rush of air, Cody assumed the Hive had handled the blast. He looked at Sonja then peered around the side of the hopper with her.
Commander Gaston stood on the open plain, while his men started rising from their positions. A cloud of debris filled the air just on the other side of the larger berm where the toads had been located. Around the area, Cody saw bits and pieces of burning ooze, along with parts from coil rifles. After a moment, he realized the ooze was what was left of the toads.
The fliers circled back down near Cody. Stripe bounded behind the hopper again.
“Well I’ll be goddamned.” Commander Gaston holstered his pistol. “How are Michaels and McConnor?”
“They caught some coil rounds, but they’ll live, sir,” Johnson said. “I’m having them placed inside the hopper right now. Michaels is going to need a new arm.”
Gaston lowered his head. “At least they’re alive.”
Stripe returned, hopping on his stubby legs while holding his viewer in one hand again. He showed it to Cody.
The sound was very loud and you did not say it would be but we are glad the predators are dead.
Gaston leaned over and read the message. “You guys got a hot meal out of it, too.”
Stripe tapped another message.
Too fresh.
Cody grimaced at the thought. The fliers were carrion eaters.
“Well, let it sit
a while and let us know.” Gaston sniffed the air. “Smells like chicken.”
The fliers flapped their wings, bouncing from one foot to the other.
We have heard of this food you call chicken and would like to know more.
“Don’t encourage them, sir.” Galloway grinned. “Not sure if even they can handle salmonella.”
“Good point.” Gaston turned to Sonja. “Ensign Monroe, contact the Tokugawa and report our situation.”
“I would love to, sir.” Sonja pointed at the hopper. “But we have a problem.”
The aft port corner of the hopper was spewing sparks periodically.
“I’ve been trying to reach the comm remotely,” Sonja said. “Diagnostics say the antenna needs to be replaced.”
Gaston grumbled. “All right. Get some people on it right away.”
“Commander!” Johnson appeared from among the crew gathered around the fliers. “We’ve got a live one. One of the toads actually lived.”
~~~
The toad sat on the desert floor, more like a dog than an amphibian, its central arm on its underside. The beasts were so agile they could flip over so the arm was on top. When the arm was underneath, though, they were being submissive.
Cody walked with Gaston. The crew guarding the creature made a hole for both of them to enter. Sonja also stayed close, and he grinned. She was still his bodyguard, no matter what.
Gaston stood brazenly close to the monster. The toad lowered its gaze. Its forepaws were curled up underneath itself.
“What do you make of it, Doc?” Gaston asked.
“It has the characteristic metal plates along its head,” Cody said. “And it also still has its central arm. It’s small for a toad, though.”
“But it’s a toad like those documented before the change.” Gaston looked at the creature like a specimen in a petri dish. “I wonder why the Reed Entity didn’t change it.”