We've Seen the Enemy

by Paul Dayton

  “Possibly, but our enemies would probably ignore it during battle. They might even sense the formaldehyde and avoid it completely. If not ingested, it wouldn’t poison them.”

  Timothy was still lost in thought. ‘That´s it!’ he thought, and laughed at himself for what was now so ridiculously obvious.

  “Captain Emerfield, you are very right. This is about the ants, not us. They won’t have to eat this substance at all. How much of this can be made and how quickly?”

  The captain looked at Stasi, who answered, “Well the molecular chain is relatively simple, and sugar can be easily modified into this. Corundum is commonly available on Earth and many other geologically active planets, but bonding them would take me and ship comp a day or two to figure out. Shouldn’t be a problem though, so I would say we could make whatever you wanted.”

  “A couple of thousand tons?” Timothy asked.

  Captain Emerfield’s temper hadn’t quite settled down. He raised his eyebrows, wondering what it was that Timothy had discovered.

  “Sure, I suppose, with the right equipment.”

  “Captain, can you get your men to start immediately? And notify the other WF ships, if you can,” Timothy said as Ruth looked on, dying to find out what was so special about the substance.

  “I can. But what for? What do you want to do with it?”

  “I would like you to weaponize it, and bomb every Earth base with the substance,” Timothy said and walked away.

  CHAPTER 30

  Orion

  Jack and Scratch watched the viewscreen, the telltale red triangles blinking brightly on the display. They had arrived at the solar system Nan’mtek had said was home to the alien’s birth planet, and they sat just inside the orbit of a gas giant as they scanned the area for enemy vessels, with the results displayed on the screen.

  Everyone was surprised at what they were seeing. The alien homeworld had supposedly been stripped clean of all resources and abandoned, and yet a large contingent of alien spacecraft was orbiting this dead world. They were too far away to register planetary life signs, but it was obvious they would find that too.

  Jack, Scratch, the ship captain whose name was Malcolm Dewar, and the others comprising the bridge crew were all watching quietly, waiting for Jack or Scratch to say something.

  ‘What I would give to take a peek into Nan’mtek’s head right now,’ Jack thought.

  They had taken over and modified one of their freighters, stripping it of everything to make more room in the cargo bay. The modified Klinger and the captured carbon alien spacecraft were both in there at the moment. The basic freighter weaponry was exchanged for much more firepower and the engines upgraded for quicker maneuverability. Electronics had also been upgraded and a makeshift torpedo delivery tube installed just in case.

  Hoyt, Hollander and the Council hated the idea of the Klinger going with them as they wanted to study the incredibly valuable ship, but Jack insisted on it by stating that it would be a suicide mission otherwise. Interestingly, the Klinger itself had decided to come, which of course surprised the whole group. It was difficult to accept a ship that declared itself alive. Hollander had laughed when he had received the personal request from ‘Mike’.

  They studied the display as Scratch bit his lip. He couldn’t accept the fact that the council had asked his pregnant wife to accept this mission. Her mental powers were diminishing as were his, probably because they had not eaten from the weird mix since leaving the alien planet. The Klinger had no problem reading their thoughts though.

  “Now’s the time, Jack, Captain Dewar said. “The longer we stay here, the greater chance we have of being seen. I need you to make up your mind.”

  Scratch was annoyed and was about to say something but Jack straightened up, gave Scratch a peck on his cheek, and without waiting for a hug, went to get suited up and ready. Scratch was having none of this and, catching up with her, flipped her around and grabbed her butt as he hugged her and gave her a kiss she would want to return to. Jack, breathless and with her eyes closed, savored the moment as Scratch finished off with a pat.

  “Now you can go kick some ass,” he said as he smiled, but deep down, he was very worried.

  She suited up and jumped into the alien carbon spacecraft they had appropriated. She saw the bay doors open but didn’t release the clamps until the freighter sped up to attack speed, in the direction of the old alien homeworld.

  “At full speed now, sweetie,” Scratch said, piloting the freighter. “Will be in range of their sensors in 30 seconds, so it’s now or never.”

  Jack unclamped and throttled her ship out of the bay. The freighter immediately slowed down, and then returned to hover behind the small meteor they had been sitting behind since they arrived. Jack let the momentum of the ship carry her to the planet, a trip that would take nearly seven hours. She spent the time thinking about the council and their secret plans, and of how she hadn’t trusted any of them for a second. And yet, here she was doing exactly what they had asked her to do. She went over her mission objectives as she looked at the simple instrumentation of this light but invisible enemy fighter. The ship had been a rare gift, something new that they could study in depth, but once they had gotten hold of it, they were all disappointed. There was no new technology here, other than the interesting shell. All the ship had was simple pressurized maneuvering ports, a pressurized gun shooting flechetes, a simplified computer system and basic life support. It had obviously not been built by the ants, but the original builders were unknown and probably extinct now. Perhaps it had even been built by the weird humans she saw on Beta-9. Who knows, she thought, but somehow the thought bugged her.

  “Enemy ship in range,” said the ship computer voice, startling her. She looked at the display, and then out to space in the direction indicated. She was only able to wear a light compression suit in the small cockpit, and the alien hardware didn’t permit for optical augmentation, so she augmented her own eyesight to maximum to try and pick out the ship until she finally found it.

  “Life signs?” she queried as her ship rapidly approached, hoping that perhaps the ship was only an unmanned scout.

  “Yes, Human.”

  ‘Humans?!’ She could clearly see the blinking red triangle. The details became clearer as Jack approached, and she confirmed that the ship was in fact enemy and clearly of ant origin.

  ‘Damn!’ she thought, and cleared her mind, but it was already too late. The enemy fighter pilot, having picked up a human mental signal, queried her for position and assignment, not being able to see her location.

  Jack acted fast as she tried to keep her mind blank. She nudged the ship into a direct firing position and targeted the canopy, and once she was too close to miss, fired a volley and watched happily as the human inside jerked when the flechettes struck him. She heard a mental warning scream from the human just before it died.

  Within seconds, other alien ships showed up on the simplified Tactical as they came within range.

  ‘They’re going to see me,’ Jack thought worriedly.

  Mental queries from other humans were popping up all around her, trying to triangulate her position as she did everything she could to keep her mind clear. She watched as the group of alien ships increased until there were six, all desperately searching for her invisible ship as they locked into her mental signal. When they got close, Jack got an idea.

  “Request help,” she mentally yelled as strongly as she could.

  “Nature?”

  “I’ve picked up the enemy. My ship cannot keep up. Last known position and speed. Pursue.”

  There was a silence as they considered her report.

  “Planet?” they queried, wanting to know where she had come from.

  “Beta-9,” she blurted before thinking.

  And excited babble occurred as they considered her answer, and she hoped it would be a while until they figured the jig was up.

  “20,000 to LPO,” her onboard computer said.

&n
bsp; ‘Only a few more minutes,’ she thought, as the distance from her enemies increased. She hoped they would stay busy, but one of the humans asked, “Carrier?”

  They had obviously figured out what her ship was and that it needed a carrier as it had no significant drives, but she didn’t want to give the location of her freighter away.

  “Jumped on another assignment. Due to arrive in four hours,” was all she could stammer, not knowing if the phrases would be accepted or not.

  All of a sudden, the seven alien ships came back in pursuit. ‘Jig’s up,’ she thought.

  “So, all you bastards decided to help the aliens, eh?” she said as she watched the distance to LPO get closer. She could see the alien ships come nearer as they tried to figure out her position, and one of them fired Disablers hoping it would somehow lock on to a ship they couldn’t see.

  “What’s in it for you, if I may ask? They going to give a cute virgin ant as a wife? Or maybe you just enjoy being traitors,” she said out loud, knowing they were picking up her thoughts. She got no response though, and she could clearly see that things were getting bad. The lead alien ship had clued in to her position and fired a salvo, striking the trailing edge of her control surface. She tweaked an exhaust port to give herself some room, but knew it was almost impossible to get out of this now. Her mission was to land a damaged alien craft even if she had to damage it herself, but it was becoming clear she wouldn’t have the chance.

  At that moment, the lead alien ship suddenly disappeared as Scratch popped in with the activated barrier on the Klinger. “Need some help?” he said.

  Without waiting for a reply, he quickly disposed of the other six fighters before they had a chance to report on what was happening.

  “Done. That’s seven more notches, sweetie,” he said.

  Jack was so relieved she burst into tears. “Where the hell were you!”

  “Honey, you know I’m always late! But never too late. Now let’s finish your mission.”

  It took a moment to settle her nerves. She had never worried excessively about dying. That sort of thing worked against piloting skills and any thoughts along those lines were quickly burned out of students. But now that she was married and pregnant, the situation had completely changed.

  “Yes, husband. Proceeding as planned.”

  Scratch had come up along-side her starboard side. “You sure you can land this thing safely? He said as he looked at the damage, the only clearly visible part of the difficult to see craft.

  She looked the wing over. The bullet had torn into the trailing edge and come up topside, midway up the wing. The damage was on the outer part nearer the tip, where atmospheric pressures would be lower.

  “Yes, I think I can.”

  “There’s no bailing, Jack. Either you can or you can’t. Actually, no. Abort mission. We’re returning.”

  “Scratch, I’m fine, really. She’s only lightly damaged. One bullet tore through, that’s all. Anyway, I’m supposed to pretend it was a crash landing, and this fits perfectly. It was either this or I’d be setting off the hidden charge in the wing. I’m going down.”

  “Jack, no! We need to look it over.”

  “Bye sweetie. Radio silence, remember?” and she cut off her comm.

  She hoped that this was enough to convince anyone finding the ship that she had to make an emergency landing. She was quickly nearing the planet atmosphere and saw the beginnings of a light glow form on her leading edges. Flight characteristics were very different on this craft, and Jack struggled to keep it lined up.

  Looking at the wing’s trailing edge, she could see a glow coming from the jarred pieces of tough C60, but there was something else too. Little pops of light were appearing from the bullet entry hole, and just as she was about to query the ship computer, it said, “There is a loss in hydraulic pressure, center ailerons. At present drain, they will be inactive in twenty three seconds. Locking them now into the most efficient glide pattern.”

  “How long until we can safely land?”

  “Unable to ascertain.”

  ‘Huh. What a stupid computer,’ she thought as she continued struggling with the controls. She missed her old Maxon 4, stowed away in the freighter.

  She concentrated on her mission as the popping got worse. Looking over at the trailing edge, she could see active flames as the liquid became super-heated and spilled out. Bubbling was now appearing along the upper surface and was working its way to the wing center. Suddenly, an explosion blew a hole in the wing’s midsection, shooting pieces of crystallized carbon in all directions. One errant piece struck the canopy, causing a spider web of cracks to appear and radiate from the impact point.

  ‘Great!’ she thought to herself. Nothing seemed to be going right this mission.

  “Speed at Mach 27. Deploying air brakes. There is a loss in cabin pressure. Is your canopy damaged?” the ship computer asked.

  “No kidding. Stupid computer.”

  The computer had no further comment to make, so it stayed quiet.

  She watched the clouds below, a heavy thunderstorm hovering over the area her flight path was projected on. The popping on the craft wing could now be heard as pockets of hydraulic oil leaking out continued to instantly heat up and explode. It was eating away at the carbon, and the damage was progressing rapidly. She wasn’t sure if the storm clouds contained water or if they would even help, but decided it didn’t matter as she had little control over the craft anyway.

  “Computer, send out a mayday, and continue sending it until you run out of juice.”

  “The mayday can be picked up by any alien activity. Do you wish to proceed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mach 19.”

  She was just entering the cloud system when the computer interrupted her concentration and said, “Category 4 storm. You may not survive if you proceed.”

  ‘Jeez,’ she thought. “Well, then. Let’s return to the freighter, shall we?”

  “That is not possible…”

  “Never mind!” she said, frustrated.

  She shook her head and made a note to herself to thank command once again for the substandard electronics. She knew why they did it, but it was aggravating.

  Buffeting increased as the craft entered the cloud layer and got struck by massive drops of rain. She was going in way too fast, as the air brakes hadn’t slowed her down enough. Once the rain hit, a thunderous noise and clouds of steam billowed from the wings, and a different type of popping sound could be heard as the red hot leading edges started cracking from the stress.

  Severe buffeting hit her, followed by a loud bang. The craft yawed as the computer tried to correct the error with the maneuvering rockets.

  “What the hell was that?” Jack asked, looking around for damage as the buffeting intensified.

  “Air brakes have been sheared off.”

  The ship straightened but she felt the craft quickly increase speed as gravity pulled it down. Her control stick started to shimmy even worse than before and she could see pieces of carbon continue to crack and break off the now severely damaged trailing edges. Pulling back on the stick to try and slow her descent, the computer interrupted and said, “The starboard control surface cannot take the stress and hydraulic fluid is almost drained. Please continue on your present angle.”

  Jack was worried. The inner wing struts were now visible in some areas and glowing as bigger chunks of carbon broke off. She looked at the digital airspeed display holographed to her lower right and read a dropping speed indicator, now at Mach 7.

  “Might as well pull out the steak and spare ri…” but she didn’t finish her sentence. The last half of the starboard wing exploded as superheated air entered into the interior structure. Now with only a partial wing, the craft shimmied to the right and went into a lazy spin. She compensated, struggling to keep it from breaking apart at the incredible speed it was still traveling.

  “Don’t care what you say, pulling up,” she said as she gently pulled left and
up on the stick. She felt hardly any resistance as most of the hydraulic fluid had drained out, but the maneuvering rockets were tied in with the yoke and that gave her some control.

  Her air speed indicator dropped but the shaking and buffeting increased, and she could clearly see the port wing vibrating violently. Easing off on the stick helped but the air speed climbed again. Carbon was still boiling and popping off in chunks, but somehow the ship held together, and her airspeed indicator was down to Mach 1.6.

  The spider web cracks had continued to worsen, and Jack knew that the canopy would shatter at any moment. She had already dropped her body as much as she could but was still caught off guard when it finally imploded and the pieces showered all around her. The rushing wind and rain tore violently at the upper backrest of her seat and anything in its path was ripped off. She was ducked down, just inside of the air bubble created by the upper electronics mount, but she still felt her head violently shaking in the air’s turmoil as the damaged structure slowed the craft’s descent.

  “Computer, display visual on internal visor!” she yelled over the din.

  The display showed uneven ground everywhere, rocky outcrops that jutted a few hundred feet into the air, and the odd, unnatural appearance of flat, round circles of earth far too small to land on.

  “Search for a landing area in our range,” she yelled. The shimmying increased from the damage on the control surface, and Jack was doing everything she could to keep the craft level. She knew that the computer was compensating, but it was obvious that this ship was no longer flight worthy.

  “Come on baby, get me down in one piece, that’s all I ask.”

  “Maneuvering rockets are running out of fuel. Landing area found. Displaying flight path on your visor. You are being tailed. Displaying a visual now.”

  Jack could clearly see a very alien Class 4 fighter about 1 kilometer behind her. For now, surviving the landing was far more important.

  “Range to landing!” she yelled as the din calmed down, her airspeed now at well below Mach 1. It showed up on her display, 1.3 kilometers distant. She knew she was coming in hot and pulled her yoke hard to drop her airspeed further, but all resistance was gone as the last bit of hydraulic fluid drained.