We've Seen the Enemy

by Paul Dayton

  “40,000 kilometers.”

  He grabbed an electronic notepad and wrote down, “Captain, I’m sorry for disobeying a direct order. Were I to remain alive, I would be dishonorably discharged and stripped of my medal. That’s why I gave it to you. Having said that, it has been a pleasure to serve you, and I know of no man that I hold in higher honor. May your spirit shine brightly, and when you look at this star remember me. I will tell your wife and child that you love them dearly when I see them again.”

  He put the stylus down. “Must get out of this mood,” he said to himself.

  “Hmm. How about a little message to the children back home about the ants…?” and Ivanov continued writing.

  “30,000 kilometers.”

  A warning light came on, alerting Ivanov to trouble. He looked at the screen and was happy to see the tug’s laser coming on sporadically to clear debris from their path, and everything seemed to be in order. The cloaking generator however was not. He looked at the display and saw that a leak had appeared in one of the cooling pipes that kept the generator from overheating.

  “Computer, send a data cube with the information I just wrote, addressed to Keenan. Estimated time for generator failure?”

  “An estimate is not possible,” the computer replied. “The main cooling line has a rupture in it and high pressure steam is escaping. If the rupture doesn’t get any worse, you will barely make LPO.”

  ‘Damn,’ he thought again. “Notify me if the rupture gets worse.”

  Suddenly, the warning klaxons came on notifying another hull breach, and the airtight doors to the bridge closed. “Computer?”

  “Hull breach and damage to C3, 4, 9, 10, 11 with loss in cabin pressure. No damage to ship systems, but you can no longer leave the bridge without a pressure suit.

  “20,000 kilometers. The rupture has increased exponentially and the generator will fail any second.”

  Ivanov jumped into action. “Computer, dump all water into the cooling pipes immediately. That means fresh water, and when you run out, then grey water, and if you run out of that, sewage water will have to do, and if you run out of sewage water, tell me and I’ll piss into it.” He watched the heat levels increase until they had gone well into the red.

  He knew that the Abadon was much bigger than the tug and ran the risk of still getting hit by particles that the smaller tug viewed as non-threatening, but he was hoping he could have avoided them.

  “10,000 kilometers.”

  The klaxons sounded again alerting to another breach, but Ivanov was getting annoyed.

  “Computer, cut klaxons, but alert me if …” and as he said that, the cloak failed.

  Ivanov stared in horror at the display. All this way and so many deaths for the cloak to fail 10,000 kilometers from its target. “Damn piece of shit! I’ve babied, messaged, coaxed and prayed to you, and you pay me back by farting in my face, damn you!” he said, furious. He glanced at the cloak display in disgust and turned away, but something didn’t seem right. The display showed heat levels dropping which he expected with the cloak off, but the power bar was at zero. Somehow this meant something important, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  He decided not to turn on the shields just yet.

  “Computer, turn on the tractor beam and lock on the alien tug.” He hoped it would look just like another dead ship being tugged into near planet orbit. The viewscreen showed numerous red triangles, and two orbital weapons platforms in view. One of them was within 7000 kilometers. Hundreds of grey circles cluttered the screen showing relative positions of debris as they orbited the planet.

  “Clear dead objects.”

  Now, the screen displayed forty-two blue triangles – craft like the tug not considered threats, and twenty-nine blinking red triangles. None had shown any interest yet. The distance display had Abadon at 6500 kilometers to LPO and closing.

  “Three alien vessels have changed their flight path and are approaching.”

  His hands hovered over the firing buttons as he told the computer to lock on all three ships. They were just two scuttlers and a scout, but they could still damage his ship with his shields down. He waited as sweat started to drip down his forehead, watching the distance work its way down to LPO and the start of his final run. His other hand hovered over shield activation but he refused to turn it on just yet, hoping to avoid the interest of the big guns.

  “The tug is heading toward the orbital weapons station. We will be in range of its weapons within 2 minutes.”

  The alien ships came closer and started querying the tug for information, but it simply stated that it was returning to station without cargo. Confused, the ants on board the scuttlers queried again, but it gave the same reply.

  The alien ships sprung into action.

  “Weapons lock! Orbital Station is now powering its main cannon!” The red triangles stopped blinking, signifying active enemies.

  “Break off tractor beam, full throttle to target and stay out of range of the space station!” Ivanov barked.

  More ships were alerted and changed direction, but Ivanov concentrated on the closest three. Once in range, he fired the lasers and all three were quickly destroyed. As soon as he did that, all other red triangles stopped blinking as each craft turned its attention to the Abadon.

  “Planetary Defense is now targeting us and two of the closest bases are now active. Ground launches have been detected.”

  “Well, might as well go out with a bang… Computer, plot a course that gives us the shortest but safest path between all threats, and hold that course.”

  “Done. Missile launch!”

  That’s what Ivanov was waiting for. He hit the shield button, but to his horror, nothing happened.

  Ivanov stared at the shield status display. At a loss for words and in shock, time slowed down as he heard the clack of projectiles and debris smacking into the outer hull, and the intensifying sounds reverberated down to the bridge. The missile was now reaching the troposphere and would reach him before he reached LPO, in two minutes.

  “Shields offline. I have lost all contact with rear half of the ship, including the shield generators. I’ve attempted a rerouting, but power conduits were severely damaged with the last debris strike.”

  “Damn! The power meters! I should have seen this,” he said, berating himself.

  Ivanov’s mind raced as he tried to figure out what to do. Tactical clearly showed more alien ships coming to intersect, and the two Planetary Defense bases were already charging their massive laser cannons. Fortunately, the engines had locked on full thrust and they were directly on target.

  “You said the corridor outside has lost pressure. How much of it?” he barked.

  “Twenty two meters.”

  “Are your sensors and door controls still working in that part?”

  “Yes.”

  Ivanov jumped out of his seat and yelled, “Continue to target. I’m going to run through. Open and close the doors after me. Turn on the shields as soon as you have power!”

  With those words, he took one last look at the bridge as he expelled the air in his lungs.

  The bridge doors opened into the corridor, and the vacuum sucked him in as he ran as fast as he could through the twenty two meter length. As he ran, he could clearly see the jagged, round hole punched through the wall and power conduit. The hole was the size of his fist, and it was obvious that the power interruption came from this. Electricity had arced and the leads had now fused, causing the main breaker to trip. His eyes blurred because of the vacuum, but he kept running and put his full strength into fighting the onrush of air he knew would come against him as the second set of airlock doors opened at the other end.

  As he reached them, they quickly opened and a loose piece of metal sucked aloft by the outrushing air struck him in the shoulder. He didn’t feel it - his lungs were near bursting. Fighting the urge to breath, he waited for the automated air recyclers to finish their job as he made his way down to the shield generator r
oom. On the verge of collapse, the ‘Green’ status light came on, and he finally took in a deep breath of air.

  The Electrical Room was twenty meters down the hallway, and as he struggled to run he heard more clacking from the attacking craft. He quickly hit the palm switch and the doors opened. The large room was cluttered with equipment and two displays, one of them active and the other dead. The cooling pumps were still working, keeping the electrical equipment from overheating. He turned to the thirty power busses lining the wall that fed power from the generators to the cloak, shield and equipment one floor down.

  Opening the one labeled ‘Shield’, he could clearly see the dead status light. Two feet over was ‘Life Support, and looking inside, the green LED’s blinked brightly and showed full power. The amperage rating was set at 4500 amps for the Shield and 3500 for life support, but it would have to do.

  “Give me a break!” Ivanov yelled as the clacking intensified.

  He looked around wild eyed for something he could use as a shunt, but he was interrupted with a boom that resounded deeply through the ship’s hull. Heavier weaponry was being used, and he knew the Abadon wouldn’t last much longer. As if to emphasize the point, a new hole punched through the room, narrowly missing him. He quickly felt the air in the room escaping out into space.

  “God, if you’re there, help me now!” he prayed as he frantically searched for something to use. He looked at the dead bus and the leads going into and out of it. “That’s it! Just a few more seconds! Hang on, just a few…”

  Jumping to the nearby lockers containing the repair equipment, he pulled out a laser cutter and ran to the dead bus. The air was escaping rapidly, and he felt his lungs starting to burn again as he took heavier and heavier breaths, but he ignored it as he cut four feet of two inch thick crystalic carbon line off the dead side.

  Opening the inactive shield bus box, he prepared himself, and as his vision started blurring he pumped the primer for the dead shield breaker and flipped the switch, the breaker solidly flipping into place. Removing the cover, he laser welded the switch to keep it from shutting off and welded the carbon line onto the contact.

  Boom.

  His lungs screaming, he switched off the life support breaker and shoved the other end on to the contact, welding that one in place too.

  Boom.

  His vision now dark, he yelled, “Thor’s hammer…”

  He primed the breaker.

  “Will…”

  He continued priming until the green light came on.

  “Fall,” he said into the near vacuum as he hit the breaker trip switch. The electrical pulse generated further fused the two ends to the carbon line, and Ivanov’s teeth shattered as current from a small short dumped through his body and launched him through the air. He was dead before he hit the floor.

  The ship computer sensed a relay close and the availability of power to the shields, and said, “Shields Activated,” to no one in particular.

  With Abadon traveling at 30,000 kilometers per hour and its program set, it calculated that impact would happen in 8.33 seconds, and that ground based lasers would activate in less than five. When they activated in four seconds, it registered the slight error and noted it for future use, not realizing that there wouldn’t be a future.

  The Planetary Defense base laser struck Abadon’s shield, compressing and deflecting it from its round shape. The base computer wasn’t worried though, as it already decided that damage from one ship would be minimal at best. However, it continued to fire and registered success in its records when it noticed the shield deflect until the hull became visible. It programmed the laser to continue cutting, as Abadon increased in speed from the planetary gravitational force.

  Abadon’s ship computer system knew the shield had been compromised, and rotated the ship as per standard evasive maneuvers. However, the power the generators had been supplying now suddenly failed, although the computer didn’t know why.

  “Shields offline,” it said, again to no one in particular.

  ***

  John and Mike were bored. They had sat there for two hours now, knocking on the Hull of the St. Helena with absolutely no response. Jane had joined them, as had a still unconscious Keenan. John had stopped whistling the tune and Mike had reprogrammed Keenan’s suit comp to do the knocking for him, but it looked like this was getting them nowhere and they needed something a little more obvious, but none of them could come up with an idea that wouldn’t put the lives of those inside at risk.

  “Guys, we’ve been doing this wrong,” John said. “No matter how nicely we knock, it still looks like aliens cutting their way in, and for all we know, they probably have no teenagers inside who would recognize the tune anyway.”

  “Isn’t there an airlock somewhere on the ship that we can cut into,” Jane said in frustration, “…one that has emergency doors located near the airlock?”

  “I checked, Jane. Nothing. That’s what Mike and I were doing when we thought Keenan wasn’t looking.” John looked dejected, because he knew they couldn’t be out here forever. “Suit comp, I would like to have the people inside the freighter hear me. What do you suggest?”

  The other two laughed, but the suit’s relatively advanced computer came in with a reply, surprising them all.

  “Use standard channels.”

  “Duh. We’ve tried, obviously. Twice,” Mike said.

  “Lie down flat, with as much of the suits as possible contacting the surface. One of you record a sound, and the four suits will amplify and transfer the recording vibration directly to the hull.”

  John looked at Mike and Jane, and Jane rolled her eyes at the thought of more whistling.

  “Fine, then you sing,” Mike said.

  Although she protested, it did her no good. Clearing her throat, she sang loud and clearly in perfect pitch. They stared at her in surprise, having never heard her singing voice before.

  They laid down and followed the comp’s instruction, and soon felt their skin vibrating actively as the four suit computers did everything they could to amplify and send the signal through.

  As they lay there looking at the stars again, John felt uncomfortable. The vibrating felt nice but he couldn’t help feeling like he was being watched somehow. He looked around but saw nothing, until a glint of light near his feet caught his eye. Looking down, he could see the edge of a bubble on the freighter’s horizon but couldn’t identify it. As he peered closer and augmented his vision, the realization of what it was struck him, and he motioned the others to stay perfectly still.

  The alien craft rose up to greet this odd sight of four humans in Maxon suits laying prone on the hull of the ship, and it didn’t know what to make of it. Not wanting to waste resources, it quickly conferred with the other ant also inside the alien ship, and decided that prudence was the better course of action in this case.

  The three had held their breath as they watched the light fighter rise to greet them. They stood perfectly still, hoping that the aliens inside might think them dead, but they soon realized that this was not to be, as the ship rose and lined up for a strafing run.

  At that moment, a glare turned into a ball of fire as a temporary sun was created where the alien homeworld once was. The three, having forgotten the alien ship for the time being lay there mesmerized, looking at the now double sun system that they had helped create, and the sense of satisfaction made them feel that everything was perfectly fine.

  “Well, isn’t that a pretty sight?” Mike said.

  “Live or die, I am sure glad to be able to see this day.”

  “One small step for woman, one large step for womankind,” Jane added.

  The two turned to her, and Mike finally replied, “Bet you spent all year thinking up that line.”

  They turned their attention back to the alien ship. It hovered for a brief moment, but the freighter’s momentum had it slowly drift away from the alien fighter’s position. They watched the fighter for corrections, but it drifted slightly as t
he freighter continued on its momentum.

  “Think it’s true, that the aliens have gone dumb with their planet destroyed?” Jane asked.

  “Hope so. If not, then I have no idea what they’re waiting for,” Mike replied.

  As they watched the fighter, they hadn’t noticed the airlock door cycling and Jane nearly jumped out of her suit when the suit transmitted sensory perception of the gloved hand now shaking her leg.

  “Well, it’s about time!” she said, as they shoved Keenan in and then clambered quickly into the hatch, not waiting to see whether the alien fighter was active or not.

  ***

  Keenan had a splitting headache and he didn’t know why. As he pondered this with his eyes closed, he became aware of the ache in his back from sitting in the wrong position. After that came the uncomfortable sensation of the wrinkles in the stretched and worn leatherette seat cover under his butt. Realizing that something was not quite right, he felt the unfamiliar armrests that his hands were now laying on top of.

  He heard voices around him, but at first he couldn’t make out who they were or what they were saying, so he pretended to continue asleep as he watched through blurry, half closed eyelids. The bridge, if you could call it that, was unfamiliar – tiny and rudimentary. No Tactical, no Targeting, and Astrometric was only 2D. What he expected to see was simply not there, and he couldn’t figure out why. A body was standing at the status station, another one was plotting a jump using a combination of paper, electronic pad and ‘a whole lot of head scratching for god’s sake’, Keenan thought to himself as his eyes cleared.

  ‘Where did these people come from?’ Then he remembered.

  “How did I get here?” he said, startling the two crewmembers near him.

  “Um, Captain, you came in your Maxon, with the help of three of your crewmembers.”

  “This is the St. Helena, I take it?” As the crewmembers nodded, he continued, “Complement?”

  “149, Sir, plus 22 sick, one serious but stable and the other ones doing as well as could be expected.”