by Brian Mansur
“They knocked out both of your new toys,” Henry observed. “I thought you planned to take over the assault craft and use it to capture the Tsunami. How will you accomplish that now?”
Lilith smiled at Henry, clearly cherishing some secret.
“Natrix,” she said, “Activate the other assets on the Feni and carry out the next phase of the attack. Make sure you get it all on camera. Once that’s done, we’ll deal with the Tsunami.”
Henry shook his head. “By showing off, you may have missed your opportunity to take the MAC. You’ll be lucky if they haven’t already sabotaged their engines. How many of those mechs did you put aboard the Feni?”
Lilith smiled. “Relax Henry. The Feni is a side-show, and it is going exactly to plan. I took it for granted that the Mykonians would disable their transport before we could control it. To be honest, I really didn’t expect the mechs would do this well. And before you ask, yes, I have a plan for that battleship. It will take them almost half-an-hour to restore their combat systems. Which reminds me.”
She sat up, lifted her pad, and tapped it. “Natrix, while you’re at it, blow up the MSV Typhoon before it gets too far from that Dhana freighter.”
Dalip glanced over, apparently disturbed by her flippant manner. Lilith ignored him, concentrating instead on entering something into her tablet.
In a severe female voice, Natrix said, “Nuclear missions accepted.”
“Great. Do you have the new target list for the main event at Zeus?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Wonderful. Start hitting the station now.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
The Feni’s images shifted to a side-screen. In the center, appeared Zeus Station. Gleaming white against the black of space, the squat, tire-shaped colony spun silently. Somewhere within it lay Rafe’s family. Then, exactly as she had promised, Lilith proceeded to send missile after missile at the Mykonian spy’s home.
She smiled as, behind her, Rafe screamed in helpless fury.
13
Location: Hastings family residence, Zeus Station, orbiting the gas giant planet Belia_
“Karen! Anna! I’m home!” Gita Tiwari-Hastings called from the front door.
Lying belly-down in bed, Karen Hastings rushed to finish an illicit entry under her friend’s social profile. She failed to notice the tension in her mother’s voice.
Moments later, Gita added, “Did you get Anna a snack? Fruit only on Tuesdays. Did you remember?”
Karen huffed. She yelled back in a defiant tone, “I’ll take care of it in a minute.”
Gita said, “Have you even helped Anna get ready for swim practice?”
Karen rolled her almond-shaped eyes. “Mom, she’s nine. She’s old enough to tell you herself.”
From down the hall, Gita said, “I’m asking you, young lady.”
“I’ll get to it.”
Clomping heels prompted Karen to slip the pad under a pillow. The footfalls paused at Anna’s room. Karen figured her sister had already exceeded their daily allowance of screen time. Not good. Karen hopped up to swap out of her gray school uniform.
At last, Gita appeared. Karen was impressed at how her petite mother managed to loom in the doorway.
Palms on hips, Gita said, “What have you been doing, young lady?”
Karen stepped into a pink pant set that reeked of chlorine. Both knew that Alastair, the colony’s A.I., would not divulge Karen’s activities when her room had been in privacy mode.
“I was just relaxing for a few minutes, mom.”
“You’ve been home over an hour. And you promised to help while your father’s gone. I give you a minuscule bit of responsibility and…” Her eyes stabbed at Karen. “How many times do I have to tell you? Take care of your sister first.”
Karen blew air through her teeth. “I’m not one of your little astronauts, mom.”
“Sister first,” Gita snapped. “Alastair, Karen has lost her pad time for the next two days.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Alastair replied.
Karen leered at her mother while zipping up her jacket. “We have twenty minutes before we leave.”
“We can’t go tonight. I have to head back to work right away.”
“You just got home,” Karen said, incredulous.
“Yeah, well, the message came through five steps from the porch.”
“Why are you being so mean today?”
Face cross, Gita said, “Karen, I have enough to worry about without you adding to it. Some nasty stuff has been happening, and I need to know that you two will be okay.”
A reflexive pang of sympathy gripped her. Then she remembered one of her mother’s dictums: you shouldn’t have to suffer for someone else’s problems. Armed with this defiant notion, Karen crossed her arms.
Gita tilted her head in disappointment. “Go get Anna into her pajamas. I have just enough time to zap us dinner before I leave.” She exited the room with a precise twist of her heel.
“Yes, ma’am,” Karen murmured. She plopped back onto the edge of her mattress. Dad can’t get home soon enough.
The next moment, the staccato blare of the emergency alert system filled her bedroom. Karen jumped and clasped both hands to her ears. Eyes broadening, she stared at the nearest display-wall. Its late afternoon’s tranquil park scene had vanished. In its place, a brilliant white background glared with two pulsing red words: STATION ALERT. For a moment, Karen peered at the message, fear distorting her features.
She opened her mouth to call for Alastair to explain things when a booming male voice interrupted the klaxon. “This is Colonel Reynolds in Station Operations.” The colonel paused long enough for Karen to catch the panicked shouts filtering through the communication line. “We are under attack. All inhabitants report immediately to the nearest evacuation boats. Abandon station. Alastair will launch the pods as soon as—” The voice cut out.
An ominous rumbling shook the house. A shrill, whooping siren assaulted Karen’s senses. Her ears popped. The words on the wall changed. Alastair read them in his severest baritone. “Hull breach. Seek shelter immediately.”
While Alastair repeated the instructions, Karen heard Gita hollering, “Hold on girls!” Two seconds later, Gita shot into the bedroom as if driven by a rocket. The worry creases in her face put another knot in Karen's shoulders.
Edging toward tears, Karen asked, “Is this really happening?”
Gita yanked Karen to her feet. “Come quickly. Hold my hand tight. It might get windy along the way to the rescue boats.” At that remark, Karen noticed air whistling against their home's windows. Inside the station’s two-by-five-kilometer cylindrical habitat, she had never felt a gust stronger than what a hair dryer could produce.
She recalled a disturbing simulation from the last annual public safety session. The vid had depicted an asteroid making a large hole in the station through which the air rushed out, knocking people and debris around. Forgetting all resentment toward her mother, Karen asked in a tremulous voice, “Are we going to be okay?”
Karen let her mother tug her to Anna’s bedroom, but Anna was already in the hallway, following the glowing arrows along the floor. Upon entering the house’s airtight shelter, Gita closed up the tiny room. Karen glimpsed her mother’s terror-stricken face. The sight numbed Karen’s limbs.
Gita said, “Alastair, what happened?”
The station’s A.I. replied from the comm system. “Chief Tiwari-Hastings, you must all hurry to leave. Please open the access way at your feet.”
Gita sprang to comply. She stood her children aside then bent to finger open a latch in the floor. It lifted to reveal a wheel which Gita frantically turned. As she labored, a small quake rocked the shelter. The lights flickered, and Karen grasped her sister’s gray school blazer.
“Alastair,” Gita persisted, “Colonel Reynolds mentioned an attack.” She raised the hatch and started to work on the second seal below it.
Alastair replied, “Several missiles were
concealed in cargo modules at the remote depot.”
“How did they manage to sneak by our screening?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know yet. A Warden-level command shut down the defense grid, including radar. It took me over a minute to realize from the visual scopes that the first salvo had been launched.”
Gita cursed as she kicked open the lower hatch onto a space full of strobing lights and shrieking alarms. An occasional figure hurried by. The family wasted no time clambering down a ladder attached to the wall.
“What else?” Gita demanded as she hauled her children along a sublevel corridor.
Karen heard Alastair’s voice issue from Gita’s bracelet. “The first wave of missiles mostly included several low-kiloton nuclear warheads. They took out the Valiant and Courageous.”
The A.I. paused until the trio passed a blaring siren box. “A conventional armor-piercing missile struck the command center. I’m very sorry to inform you that Colonel Reynolds and the rest of the staff there were killed. Be advised that more ordnance is inbound. I estimate they will strike near your location.”
The news left Karen shaking. People had died. She was keenly aware if they weren’t lucky, she and her family would be killed too. Verging on panic, she saw they were passing the clogged entry ramps to a rescue boat. The lamps over its airlocks shone red, indicating it had reached capacity and would soon close up.
“We’re almost there,” Gita promised. She dragged them through the thickening foot traffic toward a group of yellow lights marking another escape ship’s entrance. Less than twenty meters from it, a quake nearly knocked everyone off their feet. Dozens of screams filled the sublevel.
“What the hell Alastair!” Gita shouted over the din.
The A.I. said, “The attackers are targeting extra ordnance to your sector. Incoming!”
A boom from up the corridor overwhelmed Karen’s senses. She watched in terror as an orange fireball blasted toward her, knocking everyone in front of her to the deck. The blazing incandescence came within fifty meters of Gita and her children, then retreated. The air surged after it as if being sucked forward by an invisible monster.
The flattened trio slid with the gale, their piercing cries adding to the cacophony. In that moment, Karen believed with absolute certainty that she and her family were about to die. Helpless, she clung to her mother and waited for the air to drain from her lungs.
Further down the passageway, however, a large set of doors rapidly closed. They pinched off the hemorrhage of atmosphere, giving them a reprieve from suffocation.
For a breathless stretch, Karen lay curled up, quivering. Her ringing eardrums dimly registered wails of agony. After several seconds, she recovered enough to push herself up and survey the chaos.
At the massive safety doors, Karen saw people trying to help one another stand again. She turned to her mother who clutched a sobbing Anna. A well of relief gushed up from Karen’s heart and spilled from her eyes.
“Mom! Anna!” she exclaimed, grasping at her mother and not caring the least bit that she could barely hear her own voice.
“My babies! My darling babies!” Gita said, pulling Karen and Anna to her. The traumatized family hobbled toward the closest boat entrance. Karen saw people pounding at its inner airlock hatch, shouting for Alastair to open it.
From a speaker near the door, Karen heard the A.I. say, “Remain calm. The low atmosphere in your compartment won’t let me open the lifeboat until I can equalize the pressure. When the hatch opens, enter quickly but carefully.”
At those words, Karen noticed how light-headed she still felt. She looked about and saw a few others staggering like they had spun themselves around and around too many times.
After another rumble, Gita seemed to lose all patience. “Alastair, get that door open now!”
“On it, Chief,” the A.I. insisted. Karen felt her mother’s hand pinch her shoulder.
And then everything changed.
“Chief Tiwari-Hastings,” Alastair said. “We’re receiving a message from the space-side container yard from where the attack originated.” A pause. “Standby.” Another pause. “Standby, please.” While they waited, the hatch at last opened and the refugees stampeded into the rescue boat. Finally, Alastair said, “Chief, the message says that they are launching nuclear devices at us.”
“Nukes?” Gita shouted. A few of the others in the group around her uttered similar words of shock.
“Missiles inbound. I estimate impact in less than a minute. I’m sorry, Chief.” The lifeboat’s entryway started to slowly rise like a drawbridge. From deeper inside the rescue ship, Alastair said, “Everyone secure yourselves. We're launching as soon as the hatches seal.”
Desperate screams chorused from the dozens of men, women, and children still waiting their turn to board. Several grasped at the edges of the pod’s lifting airlock door, clogging the entry.
Karen couldn’t believe it. Escape lay one meter away. One stupid meter!
Before she could give voice to her anguish, however, Karen felt hands lifting her by the armpits. Then Gita heaved her daughter over the trapped refugees, crying, “I love you, Karen!” The girl sailed through the final cruel stretch to freedom.
Karen crashed amongst the last lucky colonists. The next thing she knew, bodies toppled over her, and the boat’s airlock hatch hissed shut. Something metallic clanked, followed by weightlessness. The station’s centrifugal force had thrown the pod clear at a clip of almost three-hundred-fifty kilometers per hour.
Still guiding the craft, Alastair assigned a vector that would let the refugees rendezvous with a colony. The maneuvering jets swung the lifeboat around. Shortly after, a roaring vibration from the main rocket motor filled the interior.
Under the acceleration, Karen’s cheek smashed painfully into one of the boxy airlock’s small windows. The bodies of other hapless escapees pinned her down. Unable to move, she peered through what had become the floor. A gleaming object passed beneath her: Zeus’s rotating shell.
As the lifeboat gained speed, the station’s bulk receded behind the ghostly exhaust plume from the engine. Karen saw another pod release from its berth to join the dozens of others shooting away. Her chest tightened with the realization that her mother and little sister had been left behind.
Karen twisted her unexpectedly heavy head, intending to call for Alastair. This was a mistake. They had to go back and get her family.
She caught a series of brilliant flashes in the corner of her eye. She snapped back in time to see startling white plumes erupting from several points on the station. Lightning-fast waves rippled through the metal, radiating away from the burning streaks. To Karen’s disbelieving horror, her home disintegrated into several large, twisting chunks wreathed by a billion glittering shards.
A scream burst from Karen’s lungs and expended itself on the cool windowpane. She continued to howl until the thruster jets shut off several seconds later. In helpless frustration, she punched the viewport. This sent her flailing end over end into the other people in the small airlock.
Instinctively she grabbed onto the nearest scrap of clothing. It was the hem of a gray jacket. She caught sight of the owner’s head and gasped.
“Anna?!”
It took Karen a full second to grasp that she wasn’t imagining the tear-streaked face of her sibling. Karen realized that her mother must have pushed her sister aboard at the last possible moment.
Tiny pieces of the station briefly pattered off the rescue craft in a macabre rain. As it echoed through the hole in her heart, Karen pulled Anna into a sobbing, careening embrace.
14
Location: MAC 117, docked to the Lakshmian freighter Feni_
Five minutes before the fall of Zeus, Sean was speaking with Captain Paulson when she cut off mid-word. His eyes shot to the icon for comms status. No signal.
His heart-rate quickened. The suit’s radio had cut out. Was it only his? He lifted his eyes to the others around him. The icy sensation tric
kling down his back chilled by several degrees as Blake and Horvath paused in their tasks to look back at him. He raised his free hand to the side of his head, thumb and little finger extended like he was listening to a headset. Then he balled the hand into a fist and shook it in the negative. The others quickly pantomimed the same.
The enemy had killed their radios. The question as to why they’d done it then and not before would have to wait. Sean knew they might have only seconds before another attack. He pointed at Blake, then to the cockpit, and finally made an exploding gesture with his hands—they needed to sabotage the MAC before the enemy could capture it.
After the briefest hesitation, Blake gave an unenthusiastic thumbs-up and turned to the dead pilot’s body. The keys for the ship’s demolition controls would be on the man’s suit.
Leaving Blake to his morbid task, Sean waved for Horvath to join him in the airlock where Sarah tended to her patients. He grappled the nurse’s arm and yanked her aside to get at the panel beyond her. He caught her panicked expression and wished there'd been time to be kinder.
While she fought to control her fright, Sean punched a button on the wall. The MAC’s airlock door swung shut. Then he worked the emergency re-pressurization controls.
Air gushed in, and he heard Sarah’s faint shout. “—is going on, sir?”
“Radios are being jammed,” he yelled over the hiss of the rapidly thickening atmosphere. “You and Horvath will get the wounded to the Feni’s escape pod. I’ll cover the main corridor.” As the air neared full pressure, he lowered his voice some. “You hear any shooting, you shut the pod’s airlock. If anything hostile tries to get through, you launch. Understood?”
Sarah rocked back, but she nodded. “H—how are they able to jam the comms? I thought that was almost impossible?”
“It is.”
Military transmitters used modified Quadrature Phase Shift Keying (QPSK) with pre-programmed codes and adaptive frequency hopping. Apart from someone ‘barrage’ jamming the entire radio spectrum, the boarding team shouldn’t have been significantly affected.