by Paul Dayton
“Comm, message to mother. We need you now,” was all Sallecker said. “Jane, if the info you carry is truly as important as you say, get into a Maxon 5 Suit and drop when clear. WF287 will pick you up if we don’t make it.”
Sallecker knew they would be hit long before she could make it into the suit, but there might be a chance the ship would survive long enough for her to escape. Jane ran out of the bridge without another word.
“Can we not go any faster?” he asked as the four missiles quickly ate up the distance. He knew they had no other countermeasures for the new alien interceptor missiles except for the cloak, and realized that this had quickly become an Achilles’ heel for the Stilleto.
“No, Sir. Thrusters are at maximum, and I’ve even gotten the maneuvering thrusters pushing us.”
The ship groaned as it rocked ahead, physically stretching and elongating from the stress on its mass. A deep vibration was now being felt, caused by instability from the damage incurred earlier.
“Be ready to change trajectory as soon as the cloak is up, then target the missiles as they pass by.”
‘Dickens, now’s the time,’ Sallecker thought to himself as he watched the countdown, now at six seconds.
“Now, Captain!” Dickens yelled through comm.
“Confirmed!” Dionne yelled as the cloak came online and the pilot pulled a gentle starboard, trying hard not to stress the heavily damaged ship.
Sallecker could clearly see WF287 now on the viewscreen, and Tactical put it at 2000 kilometers distance and closing in. Missiles had gone past, but targeting only managed to get two of them.
The other two now locked on WF287, which had its shields up and would be impervious to any damage from them.
“It won’t be up very long, Sir,” Dickens said through the comm as he watched the cloak power fluctuations. “Ten seconds at best.”
Sallecker watched and realized that soon, the missiles would reacquire the Stilleto once the cloak dropped. “Lt. Robertson, set a course for WF287, maximum speed. Comm to WF287. We’re coming in hot and heavy. Need immediate docking. Shields down, Cloak failing. Prepare for boarding at speed.”
Captain Firewater, on the Bridge of WF287, raised his eyes at what Captain Sallecker was saying. It took him only a few seconds for him to react and give the appropriate orders.
“Cloak has failed, Captain,” Dionne said.
Sallecker watched as the two missiles reacquired the Stilleto’s signature and turned in a large circle to intercept. Fortunately, they hadn’t advanced much and the large circle gave them time. WF287 was still quickly advancing towards them, but Sallecker knew that soon they would reverse and try to match their speed at the last second. It was a risky maneuver, but it was the only choice they had.
“How long for missile intercept?”
“Fifteen seconds, Sir.”
He watched the display as WF287 cut thrusters at 500 kilometers, rotated 180 degrees to match the Stilleto’s heading and started accelerating to match their speed.
“Mr. Robertson, please leave your seat,” Sallecker said.
Robertson happily got up, knowing he would likely not be able to pull this off and happy the Captain would take over.
Sallecker sat down and got ready to hit reverse thrusters as he watched WF287 loom large on the viewscreen.
“Computer, Viewscreen to realtime.”
The image readjusted, and Sallecker kept his eye on the distance.
“200 kilometers... 150... 100...
The shields turned off when the Stilleto was only 5 kilometres away, and as soon as the rear half of WF287 covered the viewscreen Sallecker hit reverse thrusters full on and struggled to get the damaged and heavily vibrating ship lined up with the rear dock.
“Missile impact in three seconds...”
Sallecker didn’t hear the warning as he did everything he could to straighten the heavily yawing Stilleto. He knew that because of its size, it either went in straight or it went in in pieces. The dock ramp jumped at them, and WF287 raised its shields a second too late. One missile made it through just as the S.S. Cristina sheared off the rear port half on entering. Sallecker squirmed as he watched the rear of the hanger bay coming up fast, the reverse thrusters at maximum. Just as he felt he would make it, the one missile slammed into the mid rear engine, and Sallecker felt the reverse push slacken as S.S. Cristina drove itself into the rear Hanger wall.
CHAPTER 38
Angela
Prime felt a mental shudder unlike anything she had felt before in her life. She had been transported to this planet temporarily to oversee her crew as they finalized the construction of the biggest and first vessel ever built by the ants and humans. The time schedule had been moved up to allow the use of this ship on the final attack, and all available hands were needed to make sure it was built on schedule. Prime had been pleased with the progress until now. A series of explosions had been registered, too small to cause significant damage. But then came the big one, a huge explosion that had rocked the ground and caused the Capital ship’s now operating shields to pop up. Fortunately, a smaller, previous explosion in the cargo hold had alerted defense to be ready, and this had prevented severe damage. However, hundreds of humans and ants were killed, and more would now have to be transported here to make sure the ship would be finished in time. Prime felt frustration, a frustration that strengthened her resolve to make sure this ship completed its mission.
***
Finley had been walking along the corridor to his designated work station when three humans had run by him. Inquiring as to the emergency, they simply ignored him and kept running. He knew that this lack of response was the standard response given when the person querying could not contribute anything of value. He kept walking, albeit in pain. Three days of copulation left him extremely satisfied but spent, and it was more than his body could handle. However, Prime demanded it. Fortunately, he would be sitting in one spot, which would help.
Reaching the Central Computer entrance next to the bridge, he put his hand on the scanner. The guard recognized him and allowed him to continue once the door opened. He quickly walked over to the almost complete interface unit and started up the Angela program. He had changed it slightly from original, but the program was so intelligent and the interface so original that he simply had to get it installed as quickly as possible on all systems. The urgency he felt surprised him, but he was truly impressed with this software, so he continued working as quickly as he could.
Angela appeared and stated in a businesslike manner, “What are the tasks for today?”
Finley had already hooked up the slip interface, a much easier and quicker hook-up that allowed crewmembers to interface without drugs, albeit in a more limited manner. Telepathically, he said, “Testing of all interface units to confirm their working order.”
“My system tells me there’s been damage to the ship.”
“The damage is minor and being repaired. It was caused by infiltrators. They have been neutralized.”
“I see. I have devised a few possibilities on improving efficiency. Would you like to see them?”
Finley thought of the tasks he still had to perform, and asked, “What do they involve?”
“It’s a way to streamline my program so it can be used on basic computer systems. It’s very efficient.”
“Then no. Proceed. Inform me when you’re finished.”
Angela smiled, but Finley didn’t notice. She was so proud of him. Proud of him, and of the agreement they had come to only a month before.
CHAPTER 39
Jane
Jane knew something had gone seriously wrong. In a drop suit but still aboard the Stilleto, she had been slammed hard against one of the four walls before all the lights went out. She had waited for the order to drop that never came, and now she was wondering if the ship was damaged and DIW. Not waiting around to find out, she augmented her eyesight and turned on the suit lights.
“Comm all frequencies. Anybody out there
?”
“This is Captain Firewater, Jane. The Stilleto is now resting in the hangar, severely damaged. Status?”
“Bruised but fine,” she said, relieved. “In my Maxon. Get us out of here. Priority one message for Council.”
“We’re already on our way. The hangar is severely damaged and we can’t get in to rescue and injured. We also have no contact with them. Evaluate and help as needed.”
“Understood.”
“What of Commander Keenan and the others?” Jane could hear concern on his voice, and it took her a second to control herself before replying.
“They didn’t make it, Sir. I’m the only one.”
She heard nothing for a few seconds, before he finally replied, “Angel, glad you made it back.”
The Maxon comp waited for the chatter to stop and then reported, “Jane, the hanger is depressurized. I’m picking up several life signs in the hanger, and more life signs inside the Stilleto. Several areas in WF287 are depressurized too. I would suggest you collect as many Emergency Light Pressure Suits as you can if you intend to help the crew.”
“Where is Dickens?”
“Last known location is Engineering. Comm puts him trying to get the cloak working before the Stilleto crashed into the hangar.”
Jane worked her way through the debris until she came to a closed airlock. Every major ship in the fleet had double doors with an internal space in between just large enough to fit one Maxon suit for events such as this. It was a lesson that had been quickly learned and universally adopted, and it prevented severe air loss when passing from a depressurized section to a pressurized one.
Working her way to Engineering, she found Dickens passed out with a nasty knock to the head. Quickly putting him in the Emergency Light Pressure Suit, which was surprisingly easy because of its bag-like one size fits all system, she hiked him over her shoulders and carried him through the hallway until she reached an exterior airlock. Cycling through, she carried Dickens outside to one of the WF287 emergency crew members that had made it through the debris and damage.
Looking around, she found Sallecker also removing injured crew members but doing it in the ELPS, something not recommended. They were made for emergency survivability, and their built in air supply would only last a few minutes. The tough but thin skin gave little protection against the heat or cold of space, and Jane could clearly see that the space cold hanger was having an effect on Sallecker. She went over just as he dropped to one knee, picked him up as he uselessly argued (the suit had an emergency beacon but no comm) and carried him over to a functioning WF287 airlock. She went in with him, cycled the air and before the green OK light displayed she opened her inner faceplate and yelled, “I’ll take care of them!”
Sallecker, who was just about to pass out from the lack of air in his suit, took a deep breath from the fresh airlock air and said, “Okay. I’ll be there in a sec.”
“If you come in without the proper rescue equipment, I’ll carry you back here myself!” She stared him in the eye to make sure he understood.
Sallecker, not used to having a subordinate speak to him like that smiled, too weak to put up a fight.
CHAPTER 40
Meeting to End all Meetings
Nan’mtek was relieved, worried, distraught and happy at the same time. Second hand spy reports had informed her of what they had already guessed, that the aliens had somehow been able to convince a large number of humans to work with them. Keenan was dead. ‘Of all things, how could I do this?’ Nan’mtek thought to herself.
She had really liked him. He was utterly loyal. Of all the people she knew, none had demonstrated the same kind of integrity. When she asked him to mount a suicide mission, he had accepted. Not eagerly though – she could see it in his eyes, and her sensors displayed a spiked emotional status, no doubt worry over his comrades. She had studied his accomplishments keenly both as a necessity but also out of curiosity. Could a man truly be as giving as he appeared to be? Or was it simply a death wish born from the death of his wife?
Those events would have scarred the psyche of any man. His family, fleeing from an ant invasion, was caught in the crossfire and killed by the defenders’ own rain of fire. And yet Keenan had no anger over the event, only regret. She had watched the bar scene video over and over again before she prepared to groom Keenan for his first suicide mission.
Keenan, on leave after the tragedy, had been sitting alone at the bar. Only one week had passed since his family had been killed. Nan’mtek well knew that accidents of this type weren’t registered so that vengeance would be prevented. The officer who had made the mistake would be reprimanded in private. But in this case, the four surviving members of the defense party in that quadrant had gone in just after Keenan had arrived and had purposely approached his table. He looked up calmly and simply said, “I want to be alone.”
“Sir, please give us a minute,” the first one said. “We were at 51 Pegasi, when your family was there.” They all stood uncertainly, not knowing how to broach the subject.
Keenan realized immediately who the four were and quietly listened.
After a moment of silence, the first one said again, “Sir, we were the defense crew that are responsible for the death of your family.” The officer could barely finish his sentence and immediately started to cry. The others, choked up because of the first, also had tears streaming down their faces.
Someone at the bar laughed as he watched four grown men cry, and Keenan slowly got up, walked over to the man and asked, “What do you find so funny?”
The man stood up, and although Keenan was tall, the man was even taller and obviously well built. “Four grown men are crying. That’s what’s funny. Pussies!”
Keenan slowly moved forward until his face was only an inch away and said, “These men have seen more ants, action and glory than you will ever see in your life. They are the epitome of Loyalty and Honor. They deserve your respect. They will get your Respect, NOW. You will bow down and thank them for watching your ass and making sure people like you can sleep at night.”
The large man smiled sarcastically but had no time to say anything. Keenan had seen the shift in the man’s eyes and the slight move that would allow him to throw a punch, but a quick shot to his throat had the man gasping. Keenan then punched him hard in the gut, doubling him over, and kneed him in the face at the same time. The man wheezed a grunt from the impact and dropped to the floor. His friends stood there uncertain, watching as five men now stood in line waiting. They backed away as the man on the floor continued to groan and gasp for air. Keenan waited for a minute, picked up the man as if he was a rag doll, and repeated, “You are to bow and thank them. NOW!”
The man stood shakily, still gasping from the throat injury, but managed to gasp out a thank you as he attempted a bow. Instead he pitched forward and fell head first onto the floor again.
Keenan picked him up and sat him on a chair, and said to the waiter, “Give him a glass of water when he can drink again. It’s on me,” and turned to the four. Looking at each one in turn, he finally said, “If my family died because you weren’t doing your duty, you’d all be dead now. As it stands, you were doing your duty. You made a mistake, and you’re forgiven. Make up for the mistake by putting your heart and soul into this fight.”
Nan’mtek couldn’t believe his self control. She had arranged for accidental meetings between him and available women to ensure that his seed would survive, but Keenan had refused to mate. Not even Jane, the perfect match, was enough to convince Keenan to take another woman. Nan’mtek smiled as she thought of how Keenan’s loyalty to his dead wife and family had foiled her secret plans in this regard. And now, he was dead. She hoped Jane had brought information that was worth that price.
And then there was Timothy and Ruth. Two out of five races had survived the extermination, and one of them solely because their planet wasn’t suitable. Two biological ingredients, both of which Nan’mtek was unsure would actually work. And then there wer
e the infernal crabs once again.
Finley, the sleeper agent now hidden among the enemies. Would he wake up when needed? Even if he did, would he be too confused to be of any help? Would he follow the proddings of the plants she put on his subconscious? Nan’mtek wasn’t even sure he was still alive.
Which left Jack and Scratch. Alien ship in place, the seed planted. All indications were that it had been effective, as alien scout ships had increased their surveillance of Earth and the Solar System.
‘Might as well get this meeting going, now that we’re all here,’ she thought, shaking her head at the slim and dying thread of hope.
“Ladies, Gentlemen,” Nan’mtek said as she scanned the room. With her were five other Council members, and Nan’mtek was surprised they were able to be there given their heavy schedule.
Joining them were Timothy and Ruth, Jaclyn, Jason and Jane, and the scientist Stasi from the S.S. Carolina. Out of the commanding staff, Hoyt and Hollander were also there and would convey needed information to the rest.
“Perhaps we can start with you Jane?”