by Evan Currie
“Thank you, Corporal,” She nodded. “Imagine the difference between a world where World War Two was won by the Axis forces, or perhaps solidly by Russia, and a world where the Dinosaurs continued to evolve along the lines they initially followed. The first would be a parallel world, the second is an Alternate… albeit a fairly close alternate. There are others where Earth never developed life, for example, but Venus did… or Mars had an advanced civilization while Earth was still learning to paint caves. And those examples largely ignore the more extreme ones that can come into play once you expand your view into the rest of the galaxy.”
“That’s… impressive sounding,” Burke said as the rest of the Marines climbed in.
Jan smiled slightly. “You don’t believe me.”
“Not my place, either way,” He told her. “But I did ask, and you answered. So, what can you tell me about our target?”
He leaned forward, tapping the pilot on the shoulder and nodding. The sound of the rotors picked up, washing away her voice as she started to answer. Jan found a pair of headphones being pushed into her hand and put them on as the others were.
She adjusted the mic slightly before answering his question.
“The abominations, the scourge as most call them, are the result of a quantum effect known as Quantum Immortality,” She said. “The true explanation would require deeply delving into some rather esoteric fields of study. Suffice to say, they are ancient beings. Powerful, and quite insane.”
Burke looked to one side, “Are they all the same?”
“Hardly. We have recorded eighty-three different classifications so far, and more generally get added every year,” Jan said. “The one we are currently hunting is a low-class infection vector abomination. That is to our good fortune.”
“What about others?” Burke asked, his voice tense as they took off, turning out over the swamp.
Jan glanced sharply. “You are asking something specific. Stop dancing around the subject. You do not have time to fail at being subtle.”
“The Navy is dealing with an unknown contact in the Pacific,” Burke said after hesitating briefly. “It took out a destroyer, couple fighters, maybe more by now. They hit it with torpedoes, bombs, nothings having much effect. We need to know what it’ll take to end this thing.”
Jan nodded thoughtfully, “Do you have scans?”
“Scans?”
“Photos,” Corporal Wachun said without looking up from the scanner he was using.
“Yes, those,” Jan said simply.
Burke reached out a hand and one of the other Marines dropped a tablet into it. He flipped it on, entered a password, then checked it briefly before passing it over. Jan accepted the computer with some interest, eyes falling on the imagery on the screen.
“Combat dropship,” She said with some surprise. “You say it has attacked your ships?”
“You could say that, yes.”
“Under abomination control then,” She sighed. “Your weapons, they utilize proximity fuses, I am guessing? Torpedoes explode close to the target, using the water itself to transfer the energy?”
“I… believe so, but I can check to be sure.”
“That will not work,” She said. “In the water a dropship utilizes a method of enveloping the ship in a bubble of air that surrounds a smaller bubble of near vacuum. This protects it against any transference of energy via hydrodynamic shock. You will need to strike it directly, with significant force, or with sufficient power to completely obliterate the bubble.”
Burke fell back in his seat, “I’ll pass that along. Thank you.”
“Do not thank me, you still need to find a solution. A combat dropship is hardly a soft target, I am very much afraid.”
He nodded briefly, but focused instead on turning his communication system over to a private channel.
“I assume you got that?” Burke asked softly.
“Yes, Major. It’s being passed along to the Secretary of Defense. Good work.”
“Thank you, General.”
“I have something,” Benjamin Wachun said sharply, bringing him back to the moment. “The target is running.”
“Good,” Jan said with a smile that graced her lips without reaching her eyes. “These things deserve to feel fear on occasion.”
She leaned over, looking at the scanner before shifting closer to the door so she could look out at the trees passing along below them.
“Corporal, my rifle please.”
*****
Chapter 20
USS Doris Miller
Captain Kinney gritted his teeth as he examined the information that was being funneled into the Dory’s tactical command network from every ship in the group.
The enemy was a fast mover, unlike anything he’d ever seen in the water. Its super cavitating trick was something he’d heard about, but never on the level they were seeing now.
“We’re tracking the enemy, we think,” His second in command relayed. “It’s moving in excess of seventy-five knots, erratic course changes. We’re getting echoes off the thermocline. It’s making it hard to be certain exactly where it is.”
Kinney nodded grimly. He could see most of that himself.
The enemy wasn’t using any technology he had ever heard of. Not even the old Soviet supercavitation projects quite matched up, though the effect was similar. It was too big for one, and far too fast for its mass.
The Dory was pulling back, trying to get out of range even as her Task Group were getting into position to cover the retreat.
He hated that they were running, but a carrier didn’t engage in close combat. It was a force projection asset, not a fighting one.
“The Argonauts are on the deck, we’re running fuel and ammo to them now,” His XO went on. “The Tophatters are tracking and trying to engage from above, but it’s not looking good.”
“I know,” Kinney said. “Get the Argos back in the air ASAP. I don’t want anything caught on deck… if…”
If the Dory goes down.
He didn’t say the words, but he didn’t have to. His XO nodded stiffly.
“Aye sir.”
Kinney was about to turn away when the old-fashioned handset that rested by his station buzzed insistently. He looked at it for a moment before he picked it up and put it his face.
“Yes, Admiral?”
Kinney’s eyes widened.
“I understand. We have authorization? Very good, Sir.”
Kinney dropped the handset into its cradle, “XO!”
“Sir?”
“New orders for the Argos.”
*****
Situation Room, Washington DC
“Are you sure about those orders, Mr. President?”
Strand looked over at his Secretary of Defense, eyes slightly haunted by the order he’d just given, but he didn’t hesitate to nod.
“Yes, Mr. Secretary, I believe I am.”
“Understood, Sir.” The old General said wearily. “For what it’s worth… I concur.”
Strand nodded, looking at the information streaming by on the board. “Is there any backup we can send them?”
“In the middle of the Pacific?” The Secretary asked, scoffing. “Not much. The Canadians have a Destroyer group en-route, Pearl has scrambled everything currently in port, but there isn’t much. I think we have a couple Aussie destroyers and a Brit tin can showing the flag in the area, and the JDF have offered a squadron of their Aegis Cruisers, but the closest is still hours out. There’s nothing there, Sir, no reason for anyone to have any forces in the region.”
Strand nodded tiredly.
He knew all that.
Anywhere else in the world, practically, they could have called on a lot more reinforcements. Not just from Allies, but from their own forces. The Middle East was crawling with backup, for example, as was the area around the South China Sea. Unfortunately, and fortunately, the fighting was happening almost dead square in the middle of nowhere.
That had its advantages to be
sure, as any collateral damage would be limited for the immediate battle if nothing else. However, it also meant that there just wasn’t anything more they could throw into that fight.
“Air force units?” He asked.
“We wound down our long-range bomber squadrons a long time ago, Sir. We don’t have a lot that can get there, deliver sufficient ordnance, and then get back. It would be a suicide mission for the flyboys.”
The Secretary didn’t offer that there were, in no question, more than enough pilots who’d volunteer even so, but Strand was unwilling to ask that of anyone at this point. Not even to save a Carrier.
“We can dispatch bombers from airbases in California, have them deliver on target, then land in Pearl… but we don’t have a lot ready to go.”
“Get them in the air, same orders stand,” Strand said firmly.
“Yes Sir. I’ll see to it.”
With that done, Strand reluctantly turned to the monitors that were showing the happenings in Florida.
So many damn irons in this fire, everything burning all at once.
Dimly, Strand wondered if the Pentagon had gamed anything quite like this. He knew that there was a plan for an all-out alien invasion, a worldwide pandemic, and even the zombie apocalypse… those plans were just waiting for his word to be green lit. They even had one for meteor strikes that threatened the nation, that had actually been presented to him very early in this event.
However, none of the plans he was aware of quite covered the reality they were dealing with.
It’s all rather… irritating, Strand thought with the slightest bit of hysterical humor edging into his mind.
He locked down on it, hard. He couldn’t succumb to that, not now.
Later, when no one is counting on me, He thought, almost a promise to himself.
*****
SSN-788 USS Colorado
David Woods braced himself against the bulkhead as the nuclear sub shuddered and shifted in the water.
“Target just passed us, they adjusted course thirty-seven degrees north west of their previous heading,” The Lieutenant at the SONAR station advised.
“Change course to pursue,” Woods ordered. “Load and fire as we bear.”
“Aye Skipper.”
The Colorado had no chance of catching the target. Woods was well aware of that, but he was hoping that they could get a shooting solution that would intercept the erratic target’s course. With a little luck, maybe a 60 knot ADCAP would be able to take a chip off their block if the target turned back in toward the Dory.
What is their objective?
Woods couldn’t figure it out, the target was all over the place, like it didn’t have an objective and was just reacting to the first things it saw.
“Fish are loaded.”
“Send them on their way.”
“Torpedoes in the water!”
*****
Doris Miller
On the flight deck, Elise took a breath of the open air. Jet fuel lingered on the breeze as she made her way quickly across the deck for the pilot’s ready room. There wasn’t much time before they would be back in the air, just enough to grab a light snack, use the rest room, and get any new updates the task group had on the target, assuming there were any.
A few minutes later she was walking out of the restroom, drying her face and slicking back her wet hair as she tried to wash as much of the stink off as she could before she had to strap the fighter back on.
“Commander Cannel?”
“That’s me,” She said, not looking up. “What is it?”
“We need your signature on the ordnance log.”
Elise looked up, tired. “And you chased me in here for it? I could have done that when I was back on deck.”
“No Ma’am. We need it now, before we can load your plane.”
“Before you can…” Elise paused, tossing the wash towel aside as she stepped forward and accepted the clipboard.
She scanned the documents quickly, eyes widening before she skipped to the bottom and found the signatures present.
“Is this real?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Elise barely listened. She was checking the countersignatures and the authorization codes.
Damn. It checks.
She hesitated briefly before she grabbed the stylus and added her own name to the trio of digital signatures already there.
“Here, get me loaded up.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
*****
Morrow looked out over the deck where the Argonauts were being refueled and re-armed. The activity was a buzz, controlled chaos in its purest form. Men and women in brightly colored gear swarmed the fighters where they were parked. Fuel trucks, lifts with ordnance, even repair teams were all working in concert.
It was a scene that he always took comfort from, the way men and women could work together in a dance more dangerous than almost anything else on the planet, with no missteps, no mistakes.
The deck crew of a carrier was a force that matched anything on the planet and outmatched pretty much everything.
What they were up against this time, however…
Morrow had a bad feeling.
*****
SSN-788 USS Colorado
“Impact! Explosions in the water, Skipper. We got him!”
“Good work. Do it again,” Woods ordered, making his way over to the SONAR station. He leaned over the Lieutenant’s shoulder, eyes on the screens that showed the response they were getting through the Colorado’s sensor arrays. “Did it do anything?”
The Lieutenant hesitated briefly, but then shook his head slightly.
“Damn.”
Woods hadn’t really expected anything different, if he were being honest about it. They were pretty certain they’d hammered the bastard head on earlier, but as best anyone could tell it hadn’t done much.
How tough is this bastard?
That was the big question.
Right after ‘what was this bastard’?
*****
Chapter 21
Everglades
The Yankee Venom flew low over the big cypress trees, sweeping through the glades at high speed as the occupants looked down at the rapidly passing foliage.
“There’s another one,” Ben said, nodding off to one side.
“Got him,” Jan said, putting her rifle up to her shoulder and tracking through the optics.
The imaging device mounted on the weapon peered right through the trees with ease, and she could easily see the target as it bolted. Tracking it for a moment, Jan led the target slightly before firing a short burst that sent it sprawling.
“Target down.”
“Roger that,” Burke confirmed, opening a channel. “Send in the ground team, coordinates to follow.”
He rattled off the numbers for the location, then tapped the pilot of the chopper on the shoulder as a signal to move on with the search.
“We need to find the source,” Jan growled. “It survived the air strike, or we wouldn’t be seeing these infected. This biome is too rich to leave it to its own devices for long.”
“I understand, and my orders agree,” Burke said. “We’ll track it down.”
He wasn’t sure he really did understand, but his orders did in fact agree so he wasn’t going to be worrying too much about it for the moment. Whatever they were dealing with was beyond his pay grade, but he didn’t need to understand jack to understand that his orders made sense, were legal to the best of his understanding, and were straight from the top.
The Yankee was moving again, with Corporal Wachun hanging out the other side with the scanner in hand as he swept the swamp below.
Now that was a piece of tech he wanted more information about.
The guns were neat, but frankly he didn’t see what they really offered over a good battle rifle, even against the current targets. Sure, an assault rifle with its smaller caliber didn’t seem to be ideal, but then again they rarely were in terms of take down p
ower, but a 7.62 NATO Battle rifle would do the job in spades based on what he’d seen of Sandra’s lever action.
The scanner, though, was a real game changer. It was easily penetrating the cover below, picking out game, soldiers, and the enemy with ease. It would be nice if their target coordinate system was compatible with the one the Marines used, but Burke figured that was both unsurprising and something that could be figured out.
He had yet to see much about their tech base other than the scanner and the guns, though, so he was keeping his eyes open and hoping for an opening to learn more as his secondary mission priorities required.
“Got another one,” Ben said. “Coordinates to your rifle, Ma’am.”
“Got it,” Jan said. “Major, ask the pilot to adjust our course, three degrees west if you please.”
Burke nodded and relayed the request.
First, they had work to do.
*****
Sandra was experiencing mixed emotions as she rode in the back of the transport, heading for the highway. In all honesty, she was relieved to be the hell out of that mess, and the Marines were promising that they’d return her boat in good repair when they were done with it, so that was a double win.
Still, she had to admit she was feeling a little left out.
Not that I want to be back in that mess, she hurried to think, but it feels like I should be or something?
Like she was leaving something unfinished, she supposed.
Oh well, she sighed. Not my problem anymore.
Her lever action was resting beside her, full loaded again with some ammo borrowed from the Marines. She was going to have to look into getting pistol courses, she decided. Some proper training and certification and she’d pick up a carry rig.
After the day she’d just had, she honestly didn’t think she’d feel comfortable without a weapon anytime soon, and even in Florida it would be frowned on if she tried to carry her rifle to class.
Sandra glanced out the window as they drove, noting the road marker as they passed it.
They were hours out of Miami.
Wish they’d been able to spare a chopper.
She tried to relax, a tremor running through her arm suddenly. She clenched her hand into a fist and held it close but couldn’t stop the sudden shaking.