Alien Storm

by Ken Bebelle

  He swept the security map back and forth as Landau continued her detailed report on the last two minutes. An expanding circle of bright green triangles sped across the map from the center of the base.

  “Drones have long range visual now, sir.”

  Phillips selected one of the green triangles and the holo bloomed into a live feed from the drone’s camera. A plume of white smoke drifted up in the distance. A three-story building listed, caving towards an opening ripped into one side. The structure toppled like a badly stacked tower of blocks, sending an opaque dust cloud billowing through the streets.

  A brilliant flash of light overloaded the camera for a moment, casting the image into stark negative relief as the image processors filtered the data. The color faded back and the drone moved closer, the picture now wobbling, static creeping in on the edges. The dust plumes slowly collapsed, somehow deflated of their energy.

  He zoomed in further, trying to find meaning in the ash, like trying to read tea leaves in the bleached out image. “What the hell are we looking at? What’s wrong with the image processors?”

  “Colonel, image processors are optimal. Pan back to the intersection, sir.”

  The image slid back and dropped an icy weight into his gut. The dust continued to settle, revealing a towering set of iceboxes in the center of the intersection. Hoar frost covered every surface of the surrounding buildings. A sheared hydrant lay next to a frozen spout of water. Another flare of light and great cracks appeared in the surface of the road, the asphalt cracking from the thermal stress.

  Phillips snatched up his tablet and headed to the door when the comms blared, “Colonel, CentCom! We have multiple radar contacts, inbound!”

  He looked at Ed. His friend’s face was pale, but his eyes hard and set. They shared a look that said everything. All their plans, and now they would be forced into their most desperate contingencies.

  Gunny nodded at the door. “Let’s get it done, then.”

  Phillips threw his office door open and stalked into the hallway. “CentCom, go to ThreatCon Delta. Sound the alarm, initiate base lockdown.”

  Ed trailed behind him, barking his own orders, moving their assets into position, anticipating their next move. Even as Phillips gave his own orders he crushed down the rising dread in his chest. He’d hoped they would have more time. Time was up--Ringheads had come to the green zone in full force.

  Alien Strike

  Vol. 3

  One

  Blasting Out

  The ship lurched, and Cam felt her stomach drop a few inches. The jumpship broke free of its moorings and began drifting towards what she hoped was the gate to the docking bay. The gate that was still closed, but she wasn’t worrying about that yet.

  She was immobile, crucified in granite-like restraints, pinned to a slab of freezing cold alien metal, unable to move all but her eyes, her fingers, and her toes. Snaking biomechanoid cables twisted around her body, squeezing her painfully as they held her down. She couldn’t worry about that either.

  With her eyes open, all she saw was the low, gray light that seeped fitfully into the cabin of the jumpship. The light barely illuminated the interior, creating dancing shadows that were as confusing as the seeming lack of any controls to operate the ship.

  With her eyes closed, Cam saw through the walls of the jumpship. She felt the outer layer of the hull, like it was the skin on her arms and legs. Her ‘sight’ was a part of that skin, and she could see all around her, in every direction at once. It was like she literally had eyes in the back of her head. When she closed her eyes, she had the urge to vomit, from the strangeness of the sensation, the feeling of having an extra set of eyes.

  As disturbing as the sensations were, for a brief moment the ship gave her a feeling of connection. An intimate connection more intense than anything she had with Keenan. With Keenan it was a little scary, but still good. That kind of closeness with an alien entity? A thousand times more scary. Cam didn’t want to admit to herself that the connection with the ship also made her feel good. That’s wrong, isn’t it?

  Cam shook aside her confusion and focused on getting her ass out of the mothership. Keeping her eyes closed, she exhaled slowly through her mouth and inhaled deeply through her nose. Her connection with the jumpship was tenuous. She felt like she was splashing her feet in an ominous, dark pool of water. If she slipped off the edge she would sink into the inky depths and never find the bottom. She held the breath, and let it out, feeling her heartbeat slow. If she was going to fly this damned thing, she was going to have to go all in...jump into those black alien waters.

  She forced herself to keep her eyes shut, and concentrated on opening her mind, feeling herself sink a little deeper into the dark waters. As she did so, her vision of through the jumpship expanded.

  Cam could see the docking bay. It was enormous. Easily a hundred feet to the ceiling, the room traced a wide arc, pivoting around the door she had run though. It was two hundred feet to the outer wall, where she saw an enormous access hatch, big enough for two jumpships to fly though at once. The hatch was closed, and Cam had no idea how she was going to open it. Several jumpships were moored next to hers, and Cam noted what must be empty slots for even more ships. The remaining ships in the bay were each secured to the deck by a pair of large armatures, each ending in a pincer. A maze of gantries and ladders zigzagged above her, providing access to the empty docking spots.

  Clunk! The ship next to her collided gently with hers. It drifted free from its moorings as the armatures holding it released and began extending themselves into the air. One of the arms pushed the now floating jumpship to the side and began reaching for Cam’s ship. This, she could worry about.

  Cam slipped further into the ship, feeling herself now waist-deep in black, frigid waters. Fractal patterns of ice bloomed in her mind, reaching out from her to the ship. Her sensations at once contracted and expanded as the hull of the ship wrapped around her mind.

  The closest armature closed in, the pincer jaw wide open. In her mind, Cam was back pedaling, scrambling away from it. Go, go, go! Her jumpship floated sedately, drifting slowly, numb to the growing panic in her chest. The pincer reached her and pivoted, clamping down onto the port side of the ship. Cam winced as it made contact, feeling pain on her shoulder, and also, not her shoulder. The mechanized grip ratcheted down, squeezing a cry of pain from Cam’s lips. She felt the bones of her left shoulder joint grinding like stones under the crushing grip.

  Cam twisted reflexively, trying to pull back from the pain. Her view spun wildly as her thrusters fired, pulling the ship back, making it yaw crazily against the grip of the armature. Cam panted, the pain now a pulsing red spot in her mind, growing in intensity as she strained to pull the ship away.

  Pain flared in her gut as the other pincer made contact with her ship, clamping onto her underbelly. Spasms rippled through her abdomen as she now strained against both restraints. Bright lines of agony traced their way from the hull of the ship, into her mind. The pain was breaking her, crushing her under their weight, forcing her into the dark depths. She felt the cold waters of the shipmind rise up to her chest, her throat. She was paralyzed between crushing pain and impending suffocation. Dimly, she heard the hull creaking and popping as she fought the alien mechanisms that were pinning her down.

  The pain crested like a wave, impossibly high, crashing down on her with icy finality. Cam gasped for breath and held it as the pain submerged her into the dark waters.

  She floated in the darkness. The pain faded, becoming a distant, small thing. The chill that washed over her was now a comforting blanket soothing her mind and body. She saw the docking bay perfectly, every corner in sharp, bright detail.

  The door remained closed, but through the window she saw Mother standing in the corridor, arms up, hands glowing. Its head was down, the dead black eyes on the two bodies at its feet. Snaking coils wrapped up the bodies, dragging them down the hallway and around the corner.

  A stab of heartac
he pierced the warmth she floated in. Jonesy! Instinctively Cam reached out to him, clutching after him as he disappeared. The jumpship lurched again, slamming into the next ship with a squealing crash of rending metal. The small alien’s head snapped up at the sound, and the flat black gaze seemed to cross the distance in a moment, spearing into Cam’s mind.

  The suffocating mental presence of the tiny alien seized Cam by the neck, instantly robbing her of air. Cam’s blood pounded in her ears as she was wrenched halfway out of the comforting cold of the black waters. The grinding pain in her shoulder flared back to life even as her view through the ship dimmed. A scream of pain and frustration tore out of her, echoing inside the empty jumpship.

  Kicking and flailing, Cam struggled to wrest the alien’s hold from her neck. The waters of the shipmind roiled around her as she splashed. She twisted violently, trying to force her way back down into the water. As she fought her way down, she discovered she could feel the presence around her neck. She felt the cold fingers with their sharp claws, wrapped nearly all the way around her neck, crushing her windpipe. There were small spaces between the fingers. Her mind grasped, clawed, scratched at the spaces, greedily working its way into the gaps and forcing the fingers open. Blessedly cool air rushed into her ravaged throat as she peeled back the fingers. She sank steadily into the waters again, her strength returning to her.

  Submerged in the ship again, Cam looked into the hallway. The Mother alien stood with her arms raised, eyes focused on Cam. This time, Cam met her gaze. This time, Cam felt the Mother’s mind, questing for her, searching for the path to push through her, to use her like a puppet.

  Cam remembered. She remembered the Mother’s hand in her mind, finding the place where it fit like a key in a lock. When there, she had controlled Cam completely, even using her voice to speak to Jonesy. Cam remembered being locked in a box in her own mind, unable to resist. The memory of her psychic violation roared back, striking Cam like a hammer blow. It ignited her fear, turning it into anger.

  Cam screamed, pouring out her rage and hurt. Every part of the jumpship lit up in her mind, giving her instantaneous access to every system. She flexed her arms, and the skin of the jumpship shifted, molding into new shapes. The pincers shattered from the sudden shift of force, and the docking armatures snapped off. Other ships were released as more arms extended towards her, reaching and clutching for her.

  Howling, she swung her fist at them, and the jumpship pivoted. Energy cannons extended from the nose of the ship and began dispensing crackling bolts of destruction. The docking arms fell to pieces under the barrage. Cam continued sweeping her arm, and the ship’s guns cut a wide swath of destruction across the bay.

  As her path swung past the main doorway, she saw the Hunters retreating down the corridor. She saw one of them carrying Mother on its shoulders. Its flat eyes never stopped looking at Cam until they disappeared around the corner. A moment later the cannons obliterated the door.

  Cam kept the guns going and destroyed the adjacent jumpship. She panted, her breath coming in huge heaving gulps. Tears streamed down her face as she found a system that looked like missiles. She turned the ship, firing the missiles across another arc of the docking bay. She hit two other ships, turning them into fireballs. The bloom of heat warmed the side of her face. The concussion wave rocked her ship to the side, jarring her head enough to make her see stars. Warning lights blinked in her periphery and an angry siren began to shrill. Cam fired a pair of missiles into the outer wall, tearing a gaping hole in the side of the mothership. She felt another sharp impact, followed by the sucking cold of hard vacuum.

  She turned to look back at the smoking doorway. Jonesy had been taken down that corridor, maybe to never come back. Her team, her family, they were all gone now. I’m alone. Grief bubbled up from inside, drowning her rage. Fatigue dragged at her mind now, and the vacuum of space sucked at her ship, pulling her through the gap in the hull. Giving in to fatigue, she floated to the surface of the shipmind.

  The last thing she saw was her jumpship clearing the edge of the mothership. You’ll never control me again. Before she blacked out, she launched the last of her missiles into the side of the mothership. The explosion buffeted her away. The shipmind expelled her and she collapsed senseless against her restraints.

  Two

  Brunch and Biofilm

  Keenan

  A cheery jingling sounded as Keenan stepped through the door and into the diner. While the door was all modern technology, with its proximity sensors and automated motors, someone had strung a small silver bell next to the door’s actuator. Inside the diner, more signs of the previous century greeted him. Two waitresses, actual people! moved briskly between tables, dispensing food and refilling steaming mugs of coffee.

  Warm, comforting aromas of coffee, pastries, frying eggs, and bacon washed over him, melding seamlessly with the sound of clinking silverware, and a low hum of conversation. Keenan stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed with a sudden nostalgia for weekend mornings at his grandfather’s house.

  True to form, Bells broke the silence, ruining his brief reverie. Her tall form shouldered past him from behind. “Outta the way, boss. Don’t get between a woman and her grub!” A quick flash of her brilliant smile and she was past him, staking out an empty booth and waving one of the waitresses over.

  Gunny stopped behind him. “It’s really something, isn’t it?”

  Keenan nodded, looking around the quaint restaurant.

  Gunny gave him a grin. “I knew you would like it. The effect is a bit lost on your second, though, I think.”

  Keenan looked over to Bells. The young waitress she had corralled had a worried look on her face as Bells seemed to be ordering the entire menu. He sighed, then smiled. “Let’s get over there, Gunny. Before she destroys your expense account.”

  With a chuckle, Gunny stepped past him and took a seat next to Bells at the booth. He greeted the waitress with familiarity. “Ms. Giovanni, I brought you some folks with a good appetite.”

  She beamed at him and nodded, her dark curls bouncing with the movement. A pearly smile creased her round cheeks, striking against her warm brown skin. “Hi Sarge, I told you to call me Ellie.”

  Gunny shrugged and Ellie sighed in exasperation. She turned back to Bells, “Yes, the pigs in a blanket combo comes with six pancakes, sausage links, and 3 eggs. And yes, you can order a side of hash browns or country potatoes.”

  Keenan slid onto the vinyl seat next to Bells and across from Gunny. Bells was holding up the menu tablet and scrolling madly with her fingertips.

  Gunny ordered the apple pie ala mode, and Keenan did the same. Ellie poured steaming mugs of black coffee for the three of them and left them to place their orders. As they sipped in appreciation they were quiet for a bit, even Bells.

  He looked over at her. She’d poured a boatload of cream into her coffee and her dark eyes were half-closed, the sweep of her lashes masking her gaze. She seemed to be smiling into her coffee mug. Keenan’s shoulders relaxed as well, dropping as his forearms rested on the scarred wooden surface of the table.

  For the first time in weeks, the ache in his chest faded. Though Bells often drove him nuts, he appreciated her ability to stay in the present and wrest every ounce of joy from her life. They’d been through a lot together, and she’d cried all the tears he hadn’t been able to when they lost Hambone in their first battle with the Ringheads years ago.

  He knew he’d been moody as fuck and Bells had put up with his self-absorbed shit, teasing him, cajoling him to eat. Keenan felt like an ass. She never complained or whined, and he knew she missed her own husband like hell.

  He’d only met the guy once, when they’d been on leave in Atlanta. He’d thought it an unlikely match at first, when Bells told him that her husband Derek was a teacher. Turned out that Derek Chan was a high school track coach, and competitive triathlete. The man was fit and trim, honed like a blade. Their garage housed his various bikes and swim gear. Derek radiated disc
ipline and toughness. They’d all gone for a run together and Derek’s endurance had had been obvious. Keenan had cried uncle at mile 10, and Derek had gone on to do wind sprints after.

  Now Keenan felt the uncomfortable grit of shame in his throat for the resentment he had harbored these last few weeks. Bells gave off a vibrant intensity that he hadn’t been able to handle, and his anger at losing Cam had eaten him up. Bells had her own heartache too, with no ability to build a future with her love, this war derailing all of them. Keenan resolved to be a better friend and leader, and re-engage with his team.

  He pushed the hot sauce and ketchup bottles closer to Bells. She was going to need it for the hashbrowns. She blinked in pleased surprise and then gave him a thumbs up.

  “How’s Derek doing?” Keenan asked.

  Bells beamed, and her expression took on a slightly sappy look. “He’s getting ready for his next IronMan.” Then she chattered a bit, about time trials and endurance metrics while Keenan and Gunny nodded and sipped their coffee.

  Bells finally paused as Ellie set down plates mounded high with mouthwatering stacks of pancakes, sausages and eggs in front of her. Bells rubbed her hands, her anticipation obvious as Ellie placed a warmed carafe of maple syrup and a small dish of sliced butter in the middle. With efficient motions, she topped off their coffees and whisked off to serve other patrons.

  Bells let out a low hum of pleasure after her first bite and then began to systematically demolish her food.

  Gunny shook his head in amazement as he watched Bells tuck in.

  Keenan indulged in his pie and melting vanilla ice cream. For a moment, he concentrated on the amazing food, the ease of companionship, and allowed himself to forget about aliens and war.