by Evan Currie
The Marine beside her, a woman in full gear, looked over and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder.
“Try to relax.” She said. “Rough, day, right?”
“Y… yeah, you could say that.”
“You’ve been running on adrenaline and fear for a while,” The woman said seriously, “You’re crashing. It’s normal. Don’t worry about it, just try to relax as best you can.”
Sandra nodded as the Marine leaned forward, speaking to the driver.
“Turn up the heat back here,” She said.
“Yes Ma’am.”
Sandra was about to say she wasn’t cold, but the warm blast of air hit her, and it almost immediately felt so damn good that she just closed her eyes and luxuriated in it.
“Let me know when it’s too hot.”
Sandra just barely managed to nod as she felt the shaking get worse.
What a fucked up day.
*****
It felt another of itself die, infuriated at the sudden cessation of data from that source.
The enemy had managed a rout, much to its shock and displeasure.
The sudden application of such violence had all but wiped out its forces, leaving it badly-injured and vulnerable.
Vulnerable did not mean helpless, however. It had been in bad positions before, and it had survived.
It always survived.
Immortal.
Words were hard, but it understood that one. It had been called that many times over, by many enemies, all of them were ones it had survived and triumphed over.
This time would be no different.
A final move would end this, as all events did, in its favor.
*****
Burke looked over the trees, not seeing anything of any interest as they flew along.
“I believe we may have cleared the region,” Ben said, looking up from the rig he was using. “There are no more contacts on the scanner.”
Jan shook her head, her face set, “We haven’t found the source yet. It’s still out here somewhere.”
“We’ll do the sweep again,” Burke said. “We’ll find it.”
The others nodded. There wasn’t much else they could do. An infection vector couldn’t be left to its own in a place with a biome this rich. Left alone long enough, it would even control the local insects.
That is a nightmare I do not need to see again, Jan thought grimly.
The Yankee came around on Burke’s order, the pilot starting another search pattern sweep.
The enemy was out there somewhere.
*****
In the air.
The rhythmic beat it could feel was the source. It was coming from above.
That was not unusual, but it realized that it had been fooled into thinking it was safe from such things here due to the initial lack of resistance of this sort.
New information assimilated. New tactics were to be utilized.
The last of its parts were assembled, coming out of hiding and prepared for the action.
*****
The Yankee banked as it came around, sweeping through the search grid. The ground below was teeming with life, all of it showing up on the scanner as Ben braced himself against the door of the chopper and focused on the readings from the hand-held device.
“Still clear,” He announced. “Not seeing any sign of the corruption.”
“Not good,” Jan mumbled, frustrated. “I know we didn’t get them all. I know it.”
Burke nodded contemplatively. “So they’re hiding. Can they spoof your gear?”
“Directly? Not likely,” Ben answered. “But they could find places to hide. Enough interference will make it tough to tell the difference between local fauna and the infected.”
“So, look for interference. Large groups of animals, maybe?” Burke suggested.
“Maybe.” Ben hummed, flicking through the record of what he’d just scanned. He knew that there had to be something in what he’d examined that would explain it.
The device held records of every scan it made, going back quite a time, making it easy for him to start looking, applying filters to what he’d scanned to make it run quicker. It only took a few moments to turn up something interesting.
“There’s something under the surface back that way,” Ben said, with a jerk of his head. “Looks like a natural formation, but it’s definitely interfering with the scan.”
“Bring us around,” Burke said to the pilot.
“You got it, Sir.”
The Yankee swept into a bank, coming around by the numbers and heading along the directed course. Flanking them, two members of the Gunrunners Supercobra squadron kept easy pace.
*****
They were coming.
Fools they were, but that was all to its advantage.
It could track the sources by the rhythm of the beating in the air, there were three of them in close proximity. They were low, not far above the trees, and moving slowly by any applicable measure.
Easy targets.
It waited for the right moment, for the three to pass into just the right position.
Then… it struck.
*****
Ben was half leaned out the open side of the chopper, honestly enjoying the experience. He’d only read about the early helicopters used by pre-contact Earth militaries. Such things weren’t in use by the Realms for a large number of reasons. There was a visceral feeling to the shaking of the powerful machine around him and, if he were to be entirely truthful, a bit of a fearful edge as well.
That position was probably why he spotted the motion, even ahead of the scanner, though the device started wailing an alarm even as he started to shout his warning.
Below them, the trees split apart in a sudden explosion of force, something lashing up from within the big plants.
One of the Super Cobras was hit first, a plume of smoke erupting from the chopper as it started to go off course. The pilot fought the suddenly crippled bird, barely managing to keep from slamming into his wingman behind the Yankee.
Ben was reaching for the carbine resting between his legs when the Yankee jolted hard and began to spin.
“It got the tail rotor! Hang on!”
The pilot’s yell was the only warning they had before the entire world began to spin.
Ben suddenly wasn’t so enthusiastic about flying around in an old helicopter.
The fearful part, though, that was still there.
In spades.
*****
Chapter 22
USS Doris Miller CVN-81
The yellow vested plane director waved Argonaut Lead into position, the aircraft’s turbine whining as it rolled along with the man’s orders at the direction of Elise Cannel’s light touch on the stick and throttle.
She nodded to the director as the fighter was locked into the catapult, got a nod back before he handed her off to the yellow jacketed ‘Shooter’, the Catapult officer. The fighter wound down slightly as she eased off the throttle, letting the turbine idle for a moment while the deck was checked and cleared.
Elise proceeded to wipe her avionics, running all the control surfaces through their entire range of motion to ensure everything was responding properly. A green jacketed hookup man approached, then vanished from her sight under the fighter, to make sure that the catapult was properly seated on the fighter’s gear.
“Argo Lead, you are cleared for launch.”
“Roger. Argo Lead, ready for launch.”
The shooter gave her the signal, and she pushed the throttle up. The F-35 seemed to brace, then lean into the deck almost, and she could feel the power of the turbine straining against the hold of the catapult launcher.
The shooter waved to her, then dropped to one knee and pointed straight on just as the catapult whined. The powerful electromagnetic launcher slammed Elise back into her seat as she pushed the throttle to full power.
Everything screamed around her as she accelerated along the deck. Then her stomach dropped out from u
nder her as the deck was left behind and the plane began to fall before the thrust caught up and she felt the wings bite into the thick sea air.
Argo Lead climbed away from the Dory, Elise checking the avionics carefully to confirm everything was working as it should.
“Flight Control, Argo lead. I’m in the clear, climbing to FL-20.” She said finally. “Request heading to last known target location.”
“Roger Argo Lead,” The Dory’s flight control came back. “Hold for new headings. We’re locking down the target location now.”
“Roger Control. Holding.”
Elise turned in her seat, looking behind her to where the rest of the Argonauts were already forming up. She noted that they’d left Sandy’s spot in the formation open, and Elise found that she had to swallow a couple times to clear the lump that formed in her throat.
Argonauts, all present and accounted for.
*****
SSN-788 Colorado
David Woods leaned into the motion of the Colorado as it accelerated toward the target they were tracking. They had been tracking the contact as best they could, never losing it… the super cavitation effect made that almost impossible, the contact could be heard from several hundred miles off at least… but often finding that the contacts precise location was difficult to pin down due to echoes bouncing off the air-water interface on the surface and the thermoclines in the deep.
They were able to plot its course reasonably consistently, however, with some admitted variations. When the contact turned back in toward the Dory, that gave the Colorado its chance.
The contact was closing the range now, rather than accelerating away. The Colorado was slower, but that didn’t matter if the enemy was coming to them.
“Torpedoes loaded, Skipper. Tubes flooded. Outer doors open.”
“Hold,” Woods ordered, eyes on the VLF communication he’d received a short time earlier. “Let them get closer.”
“Aye, Aye, skipper.”
The boat sliced through the water, not making any attempt at hiding their own position as they were moving at flank speed. Nearly thirty knots was nothing compared to what the enemy was capable of, but it was five knots faster than the official maximum for the Virginia class submarine and, technically, Woods was breaking regs by pushing his boat this hard.
If he lived, they could have his commission.
The contact was still closing on an oblique angle, heading toward the line of battle the Dory’s task group had mounted to cover the Carrier’s retreat from the direct fray. The Colorado was making their approach on an inverse of that angle, somewhat steeper to make up for the difference in speed.
It would be close, Woods knew.
He could see the line of battle breaking up, the tin cans and cruisers fanning out as they had undoubtedly received similar orders to what he had.
Come on you bastard. The crew of the Peralta needs company, and one way or another, I’m going to see they get it.
*****
Argonauts
Elise adjusted course slightly as the target location was updated across her HUD or Heads up Display. They didn’t have quite as precise a target solution on the bandit as she’d like, all things considered, but it would have to do.
The Argonauts were approaching from FL20, or twenty thousand feet, pushing Mach 1.3 and still accelerating.
“Argos, get ready,” She said over the radio. “This one ain’t no drill. Cover teams, move into position.”
The squad responded quickly in the affirmative, no one even thinking about joking around this time out. Two thirds of the squadron moved up ahead, taking the vanguard position as the squadron made the last couple adjustments and began their terminal approach.
“Boss,” Argonaut two very quickly was on the line. “We have a problem.”
*****
USS Port Royal
The warning alarms were blaring across the ship as the Aegis Cruiser leaned over in the water, turning hard to port as they moved to clear the area as quickly as they could.
On the bridge, however, Captain Adam Reynaud really didn’t notice any of the extraneous noise or commotion. He had other things to worry about.
“We need to get them out of the water,” He growled. “Put every ASW asset we have on that target, and do it yesterday!”
His crew was moving to make his orders happen, but the damnable thing about the situation was that nothing they seemed to do was having much effect. As though from a distance, through the deck and armor of the ship he could hear the ASROC system firing off, sending Mark 54 ADCAP torpedoes on their way even as the Port Royal’s Seahawks took off again with a full load of ASW ordnance.
All across the task group the picture was the same, it was an all hands on deck evolution, and every man and woman in the group were throwing everything they had at the situation.
Having already lost one of their own, with all hands as best they could tell, no one was in a particularly merciful mood at the moment.
“Bring us about, back to starboard!” He ordered. “I want to cross their bow as they enter our gun range.”
“Aye, aye skipper, coming about!”
The big cruiser groaned as it leveled out in the water, then leaned in the other direction, her guns already turning to bear as they tracked the estimated location of the enemy contact, eager to be loosed just as soon as they had something to actually hit.
Covers flipped open from the vertical launch systems as the Port Royal tracked onto the contact, smoke and roaring flame erupting from them as they flushed the system and put RUM-139C missiles into the air.
The Port Royal, like the rest of the Doris Miller Task Group, had definitively gone to war.
*****
SSN-788 Colorado
“Skipper! New adjustment to the contact track! They’re leaning in on a course for the Dory!”
Woods scowled, leaning into the motion of the Colorado as they were buffeted by the wave action on the surface. They were running shallow, at flank speed, with the optics up so he could watch for anything the enemy might show above the water even as the SONAR crew tracked below.
That put them in the range were some of the heaving seas were noticeable, buffeting the crew around.
“Steady course,” He ordered. “SONAR, are we still tracking to intercept?”
“Aye skipper!”
“Keep putting fish in the water, Weps,” Woods ordered. “Don’t let them relax.”
“Tubes flooding for the next salvo now, Skipper.”
Woods nodded absently, thinking about their options. If the target would show itself, he’d gladly hit it with surface to surface ordnance, but it was hiding too effectively for that, more was the pity.
“ETA to intercept?”
“Three minutes, Skipper!”
Three minutes.
It wasn’t much time, but it would have to do.
Three minutes to scare these bastards out of the water.
Challenge Accepted.
*****
Argonauts
Elise watched the lead element as they strafed the surface, dropping gravity bombs and hosing down the ocean with rounds from their 25mm GAU-22A rotary cannons. All of that was in an attempt to get the target’s attention and, thus far, was proving to be a waste of time and ammo.
She and her wingman were holding back, out of range they hoped, waiting for an opening but so far being disappointed.
“Hey Cans,” Her wingman called. “Check out below.”
Elise frowned, leaning over slightly, and banking the plane to get eyes on the ocean under them. Her eyes widened as she saw the big Arleigh Burke cruiser moving at full steam toward the contact location, pumping every bit of ordnance they had into the air and water.
“What the hell are they doing?” She growled. “Weren’t they told…?”
She cut herself off, flipping her radio over to the Task Group’s frequency while getting some information from the IFF system to find out which ship it was.
&n
bsp; The Port Royal. Damn it.
“Port Royal, Argo One.”
“Go for Port Royal, Argo One.”
She grimaced, considering how to ask what she wanted to ask, then just decided to fuck the protocol.
“Port Royal, you do know what’s going to go down here shortly, I hope?”
There was a pause before a new voice came back.
“Roger Argo One. Port Royal is aware.”
“Then get the fuck out of here!”
“Negative. Someone needs to flush them above the surface, or it’ll all be for nothing.”
Elise felt her eyes bug slightly, unable to quite believe what she’d heard.
“You can’t expect me to drop…”
“Argo, you will follow your orders, whether we’re here or not. This bastard took out the Peralta. It’s not going to get the Dory. Do your job. We’ll do ours. Port Royal out.”
Elise swapped back to the squadron channel, “Crazy bastards.”
“Heads up, boss,” Her wingman said. “The bandit contact is on course for the Dory. They may have a point.”
“Damn it,” Elise swore. “Come on boys, flush that bastard out.”
*****
SSN-788 Colorado
“Contact dead ahead skipper!”
“Check fire on the tubes, maintain course and speed!”
“Check fire, Aye!” Weps called.
“Maintaining course and speed, Aye!”
They have to see us, don’t they? Woods wondered, actually. With the noise the contact was putting out via whatever was giving them their supercavitation effect, he strongly doubted they were able to hear a damn thing.
Even a short distance below the water and you were effectively blind to anything using the light spectrum.
It was possible they had magneto-anomaly scanning capacity, maybe even probable given how advanced the ship had to be to have done what they’d seen so far.
Beyond that, though? Honestly, Woods wasn’t sure what else there would be that might be able to spot a sub at any real range under water.
Normally, that was the Colorado’s main advantage. Run silent, run deep. It was an ingrained concept in the life of a bubble-head.
This time, however, he felt that maybe his instincts and experience were leading him wrong.