"So then, where do we put this ice or how do we combine it?"
"We affix it between the clamps and our hull. We will mount the rift coils in a way that they will surround both the clamps and the ice block. Both will be within the rift when we ram into the Grey ship. Their hull, the clamps, and the ice become intermeshed in the dimensional rift. Shutting off the coils and closing the rift will give us the soft spot we need to breach their hull. We merely need to cut a block of Arctic ice and wedge it between the clamps and our ship's hull inside the tesseract coils."
"If that works, we have fast access to their ship. We only need a distraction to prevent the Greys from putting up a blockade or sending resistance to the location to fight us back."
"Other than creating a distraction as you suggest, we are left with only one more problem to solve."
"What is that?"
"The weapons we used against the Greys in the last loop. Initially, our weapons were effective."
"What were we using?"
"The smart nano-ammunition I demonstrated for you. I was told by future 'me' it successfully punctured their suits and flesh, then released phosphorus micro payloads that ignited inside the Greys, which initially did enough internal damage to incapacitate the Greys hit with it."
"...But..." eggs Captain Nemolopolus, wanting the rest of the answer.
"The Greys are capable of physical regeneration. Because we got bottled up at the opening, the Greys held us back. The phosphorous payload increased the damage, but it also cauterized the wound and stopped any bleeding, allowing them to heal and continue fighting. We never infiltrated the ship far beyond the opening. And once inside, we had no idea where to go. We eventually lost control. That's when the last 'me' had to evac and send the video."
"You evacuated?"
"That's how the video got to us. Which, I should mention, you need to keep the Mantis ready to launch at any moment. Does the Mantis have auto pilot?"
"Yeah, but our pilots don't need it."
"Set the autopilot in the Mantis for a return trip to the transmitter on the ocean floor. I don't know how to fly that thing, so I'll need it to fly on its own. And set up an external hookup so we can dock the Mantis to the transmitter cables without exiting the Mantis."
"Are you planning to abandon ship?"
"I'm ensuring that if things don't go right, we don't' get stuck in a time loop. If things fail and I don't transmit a video to the past on how to not make the same mistake, the past will make the same decisions we do and the outcome will always repeat: The Greys will always win and we will always lose."
"Ok, but a pilot can take you back."
"No. It's a trip I have to make with Dr. Black. You will need every one of your crew here fighting against the Greys so we can get away and send a transmission. It's a one-way trip. For everyone. If we don't succeed, everyone here dies, and I die at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean with Dr. Black after sending a transmission. That is why we must solve this and get aboard that ship faster. I need to modify the smart ammunition with something that prevents the Grey's bodies from regenerating."
Captain Nemolopolus adds, "It might help if we can create a distraction that prevents them from fortifying the point of entrance. If we can get them to focus on other parts of the ship, or make them uncertain of our intent, we could spread out their resistance, making them more vulnerable."
"Do you have an idea?" asks Walter.
"Because of the close range once docked, we can't use any missiles or explosives, but we have a weapon that fires hypervelocity projectile ammunition. Very penetrating and non-explosive. I used it to incapacitate their small transport ships, but never on something as large as a Fabricator ship. These weapons are mounted on the top and the bottom of the Barge, so I could use them to fire at their hull in multiple locations while we cut a hole at the clamp location."
"You are describing a railgun."
"That's exactly what I'm describing. I use a Gatling setup, so it can shoot over twenty rounds a minute. If they keep a shield around parts of their ship, repeated strikes from this gun should cause it to fail. Not knowing what the hulls of these larger ships are made of, or how thick they are, I can't say definitively that our shots will puncture it, but I'm sure it could cause damage. And being non-explosive, it will cause no damage to us. It should be enough of a threat that they would devote effort and resources to defending against it."
"That just might work. We have a better plan this time around."
"I hope so. I'd rather not lose a fifth time," adds the captain.
"One question for you, Nemo. I didn't come up with the attack plan, you did. How did the previous future you figure that we could ram into them? That we could get close enough without being destroyed?"
"It's a tactic I used to deal with Grey ships in the past. I remain docile and non-threatening, not taking an attack stance until the moment I fire my first shots. The Greys are brilliant creatures, but that brilliance translates into overconfidence. I found that if they don't fear something or consider it dangerous, they don't attack; they investigate and observe. I think it comes from the fact they assume their weapons are powerful enough to destroy any craft, so they do not fear or attack something that poses no threat. If we approach these Fabricator ships while it is busy constructing one of these terraformer things, we aren't weapon-ready, keep a constant slow speed, and don't make any erratic actions or movement, we should be able to ram into them before they deem us a threat. It is the only way to counter their navigation system that can predict up to thirty seconds in the future. By remaining completely docile up to the moment of attack, their system does not predict a defense or attack, it predicts a non-response. Their navigation system predicts every possible action, accept no action, because that is illogical. Artificial Intelligence always bears the flaws of its creators, and theirs is thinking humans must either run, attack, or stop. They never predict an approach with weapons and defenses down while slowly colliding with them."
"That is a great tactic. Approach a battle as if you are not going into battle."
"It's a tactic as old as the Trojan Horse. It just requires patience and the willingness to be vulnerable before your enemy."
Walter laughs. A strange laugh. It is not as if Captain Nemolopolus said something funny, but something more uncontrollable that arises from within.
"I'm not sure what I said that was funny. Are you going to let me in on the joke?" asks Captain Nemolopolus
"It's us. Humans. The way we think. The Greys are so intelligent, so precise, if they discover or invent something, the result is what they intend. With humans, we discover much through accident, exploitation and deception. This whole plan reeks of that. The rift melding is exploiting a discovery cause by an accident. The nanobot smart ammunition I exploited from Burt's construction nanobots. Ramming them is a deception tactic of appearing harmless. If we win this, it is because we succeeded doing things the wrong way. That is one strange path to domination."
"Maybe. But I'm human. I look at it as creativity trumping intelligence."
"Indeed. Let's put this into action. You need to find us a target."
"And you will need to tell me when the clamp modifications are finished. Those large Grey Fabricator ships only take a few days to complete construction of one terraforming Deconstructor, and then the ships leave. I have to pick the target a day or two before the attack for it to be at that location the day of the attack."
"Oh, right. I'll keep you posted."
Captain Nemolopolus get up, worn out from the conversation and heads to the door, "Are you going to make it to dinner, or do you want me to have staff bring something by?"
"I'll make it. Distractions of food and comradery help me think."
"I think of eating as more of a necessity than a distraction. I'll see you there."
On The Road Again
Chapter 40
Interstate Highway, North Carolina.
Officer Dixie Brown and Mr. Nix cruise on a li
feless highway, the only sound coming from the rumbling hum of the Humvee's deep-treaded tires. There are no other moving vehicles, but the further along they travel, more and more abandoned vehicles appear on the highway shoulder and in the driving lanes. Their speed decreases as the number of abandoned cars and truck increase, turning the roadway into an obstacle course, forcing them to swerve left, right, and drive on the shoulder. They pass a highway sign that shows different highways diverging from this one. The highway heading east toward Charl0tte, N.C. leads into plumes of black smoke rising high into the atmosphere, the many smoke cones converging into one black cloud darkening the eastern horizon.
A numb expression drapes over Dixie's face. In contrast, Mr. Nix's eyes dart with extreme focus as he drives, ready for something to pounce.
Dixie Brown breaks her silence, but not her expression, "Can't believe how everything is falling apart. I handled emergency calls for hurricanes, floods, fires, accidents, riots and power outages, but help and reinforcements were always coming in from elsewhere. I keep expecting that. Emergency responders or the National Guard rolling in with truckloads of supplies. But they aren't coming. Do you think we'll ever get power back?"
Mr. Nix says nothing. Dixie keeps talking.
"That's what I thought. Never imagined everything disappearing so quickly. It's been what...two weeks...three? A month? I have no idea. I used my phone for everything. Schedule, numbers, dates, alarm clock...but the battery is long dead."
She laughs and digs under her body armor, pulling out a cellular phone.
"Mine is still with me. I'm afraid to get rid of it because my world is in here. And if we get power back, I can charge it, right? Except those monster machines are munching everything. Won't matter much if I charge my phone but my cellular company has been chewed up by a machine."
She throws the phone out of the Humvee as it disappears behind them.
"Your tranquility is unsettling, Agent Xanthos. Nick. Nicolas. Should I use your first name or last? How about an OG nickname, like NX. Guess it doesn't matter. Nothing bothers you, does it? You're not upset, not freaking out while dealing with this weirdness. You are on a mission, and nothing sidetracks you. Do they train you guys at the Secret Service for this? When things go insane-assed apocalyptic, aliens or zombies or crazy fire demons attacking us, does the government have contingency plans for that? I admit, I was always against secret government spending and doomsday weapons, but right now it would be awesome if you guys had a death ray that can send these things back to the hell they came from. Although, even if you did, damage has been done. Everything those creatures destroyed isn't coming back; the people who died in violence, and panic, and suicide thinking it's the end of the world..."
Dixie gets quiet again. Mr. Nix stops the Humvee.
"I hope I didn't say something to upset you," says Dixie
"No," states Mr. Nix flatly.
"Then why did you stop?"
"This highway is looking ominous. Too many abandoned cars. Too much clutter. It's getting harder and harder to see ahead, instead, I'm constantly working around what is right in front of me. Chances are no one is in this mess, but if so, we could easily be bottled up, surrounded, and...well, you've been through a roadblock to know what I'm thinking."
"What do you want to do?"
"The only thing we can do. Drive out there," says Mr. Nix pointing to the open undeveloped land along the highway. "We should go off-road for a while. The roadways are getting more cluttered the closer we get to Charlotte, so we just have to work our way around Charlotte. We won't get ambushed if we make our own path. The road less traveled..."
Dixie adds, "...is the road least robbed. I get you and agree. It's hard to imagine how many people got lost out here until you see so many abandoned cars."
Nix works the Humvee over the road shoulder and into the grassy lands lining the highway, heading north. The drive is significantly bumpier, but more relaxing with no obstacles in their way.
They drive for the next hour on and off roads. Every time a street has too many abandoned vehicles, or the road heads into a dense cluster of buildings and stopped cars, they head off-road, between homes, through parks and undeveloped land, trying to avoid vulnerable positions and being hijacked or trapped. They catch glimpses of groups of people along the way, but ignore them, including a few strangers who try to wave the two down, the stranger's waves and hollers appearing more false-friendly than in-need.
On an open country route, they go along the isolated road uninhibited for an hour, making their way north of Charlotte. Silence has overtaken them both. So has hunger. Dixie digs through the bag of snacks in back, grabbing two granola bars and a half empty canteen of water. She opens one, and without saying a word, offers it to Nix who accepts, then opens one for herself. They cruise along the rural road crunching away, ignoring the crumbs that fall from the crispy bars, passing the canteen. Satiating their hunger and thirst gives both a moment of contentment.
As they crest a rolling hill coming out a tree cluster, they find themselves driving toward a massive corn farm. Fields of cornstalks line both sides of the road as far ahead as eyes can see. An extensive farm compound sits off to the left, complete with silos, a warehouse-sized barn, and a huge multi-story farmhouse. Though the farm equipment is inactive, the farm is bustling with activity. There could easily be thousands of people covering the property.
Makeshift tents and structures surround the farmhouse and silos, with dozens of small cooking fires spotting the ground between, resembling a massive refugee camp. hundreds of people wander between the rows of corn, picking ears and bundling them into towels or blankets. Others cut bare stocks with sickles and machetes, piling the stocks near the open fire pits. The refugees strip the farm of corn like a swarm of human locusts. Vehicles with covered windows line both sides of the road and fleck the farm. Tiny fabric canopies hang over open doors, and dirty clothes drape off hoods and overflow trunks, making the vehicles into makeshift homes.
As they near the encampments, Mr. Nix senses desperate energy and slows.
"Hurry, get in the back, ready your shotgun, and keep it aimed so everyone can see."
"What for? These are just refugees."
"Just do it! Now!"
Dixie climbs into the back and raises the shotgun, posing as a soldier on patrol. Mr. Nix then accelerates faster as he heads over the road between the fields of corn and the adjacent farmhouse compound, through a gauntlet of dead vehicles converted to shelters.
"Why are you speeding? These people look harmless."
"The arrangement of the encampments and how people are sectioned off is organized. Yet the people aren't working together, only taking care of themselves. That tells me that someone is in charge, dominating the people, but only cares about being in control, and not interested in governing or leading the people here."
"You can tell that by just looking?"
"This scene of organized poverty is not uncommon in the worst third world countries. Those places, you are as likely to be robbed by police as you are by a starving thief."
"All I see are desperate people," observes Dixie.
"Desperate people are never harmless. This isn't an issue of good or bad, Dixie. It is the survival of have and have not. We have gas and supplies. If we stop, mob mentality won't let us take our stuff and go on our way. You think these cars happened to run out of gas right here? Or do you think they saw these people, stopped to talk, were robbed of whatever they had by the mob, and couldn't leave?"
"Fair enough. But I'm not going to shoot anyone, so let's get through this."
"Keep it up for show and be ready."
As they accelerate through the refugee gauntlet, Dixie is struck by the sad, desperate and hungry faces. They pass by the driveway entrance leading to the farm complex, passing a dozen men seated on motorcycles, strapped with rifles and sidearms, bearing the stature and overlooking eyes of guards. The guards' gaze lock on Dixie and Mr. Nix in their Humvee.
&n
bsp; Dixie turns and looks back, seeing three of the motorcyclists start their bikes, pull out of the driveway, and pursue them.
"We got company!" Dixie yells to Mr. Nix in front, who glances in the mirrors at the approaching motorcycles.
"Keep your gun up and hold tight!"
Mr. Nix picks up his speed, but the motorcycles catch up. One biker stays behind the Humvee, clutching a pistol in hand but not pointing it. Another moves to the back corner blind spot of the Humvee. The third bike pulls alongside the driver's side of the Humvee, stares at Dixie, then accelerates forward and rides next to Mr. Nix. As Nix glance at the biker, the biker signals with a pistol for Mr. Nix to pull over.
Mr. Nix smiles and nods to the biker, then without hesitation, makes a hard turn right, driving into the cornfield, crashing through row after row of cornstalks. Taken by surprise, Dixie lets go of the gun with one hand and grabs on for dear life. Frayed stalks and corn ears fly from the Humvee's impact, some ending up inside the Humvee.
The motorcycles turn and take pursuit, but stop after one biker loses control, their bikes unable to maintain chase over the dirt terrain and downed vegetation.
Nix continues racing through the field, the smacking sound of plants impacting the Humvee deafening their ears. Nix wrestles with the steering wheel while Dixie white-knuckle clenches tight the back of his seat. After a couple minutes, the Humvee breaks free from the corn field into a grassy expanse. Both breathe heavy from the stress and strain. Glancing behind, seeing no one in pursuit, Mr. Nix slows the Humvee and veers toward a dirt road slicing the grassy landscape. After pulling onto the dirt road, Nix stops.
"You ok, Dixie?"
Dixie brushes off corn silk and leaves, "I'm unhurt, if that is what you are asking, but far from ok. You still look so calm, even after that! You are ice."
Nexus of Time Page 34