A Learning Experience

by Christopher Nuttall

  “We just got a message from Heinlein,” Mongo said. “They’re going dark now.”

  “It won’t be enough,” Kevin said, grimly. “Maybe we should have fled after all.”

  “No,” Steve said. He hadn't been able to abandon the ranch and he wouldn't be able to abandon Earth. It was home, despite its flaws. “We couldn't leave our homeworld and billons of people to burn.”

  He sucked in a breath. There hadn't been a truly existential war in American history since the Civil War – and that had been against fellow Americans. The last time the American Republic had faced total defeat had been in 1812, when the British might have managed to tear the newborn republic apart and reabsorb it into the British Empire. Even Hitler or Stalin wouldn't have been able to land troops on American soil and occupy the country. The logistics of such an invasion would be staggering, utterly beyond comprehension ...

  But they were fighting an existential war now, he knew. The Hordesmen wouldn't hesitate to bombard the planet into submission, reducing humanity to a wave of slaves ... slaves who might just take over, given time to learn more about their masters from the inside. No one on Earth, outside a tiny select group, knew about the coming engagement. But their lives depended on it. If Steve and his family lost, a nightmare would descend upon Earth.

  Maybe Kevin was right, he thought. Perhaps we should have fled.

  It had seemed a cowardly solution at the time. Shadow Warrior could easily carry a few thousand humans and their children to another star system and provide the base for a high-tech civilisation. Given time and alien medical technology, they could build up a massive population without needing immigrants from Earth, while the Horde would be faced with a disturbing mystery. Somehow, he doubted that lost Horde starships were uncommon ... and with no trace of Galactic technology on Earth, it would be hard for the Horde to blame humanity for the loss. But would that really stop them bombarding the planet into submission?

  He pushed his thoughts aside as the alien starships drew closer. It wouldn't be long now.

  “Picking up gravimetric fluctuations,” Kevin said, softly. “I think they’re decelerating.”

  There was a ping from the display. “They’re dropped out of FTL,” Kevin added. “And they're coming our way.”

  “On screen,” Steve said. He chuckled, dispelling the tension. “I thought of that one yesterday.”

  “Keith was saying that Star Trek was a poor excuse for an SF show,” Kevin joked. “We should have gone with Babylon 5.”

  Steve considered it. He’d watched all five seasons of Babylon 5 in Iraq, between patrols through dangerous cities and countryside. “Nah,” he said, finally. “I hated the fifth season.”

  He looked up at the display as the two alien starships came into view. One of them looked to have been built by the same designers responsible for Shadow Warrior, as it looked like a large dagger ready to stick itself into its enemy’s heart. The other looked rather alarmingly like a giant crab, except it had three claws instead of two. With some imagination, it was possible to see how they might both be able to land on a planetary surface.

  “Small ships,” Kevin commented. “But armed to the teeth.”

  Steve had to smile. The smallest ship was over a hundred metres long, bigger than anything humanity had put into space. Were they so jaded that such a wondrous creation seemed tiny?

  “Send them the distress call,” he ordered. “Let them think we’re in trouble.”

  He watched as the holographic image of the Subhorde Commander’s second-in-command started requesting help from the newcomers. The original Subhorde Commander, according to their alien captive, would have killed himself out of shame, an act that would somehow allow his subordinates to remain blameless. Steve couldn't help wondering just what sort of society would insist on suicide for something that was hardly the person’s fault, but he feared he already knew the answer. The Hordesmen hated having to admit that they needed assistance from anyone else.

  Just like us, he thought, remembering his grandfather’s stories about the Great Depression. The family had gone hand-to-mouth for years, but they’d never accepted government help or even local charity. We’re stubborn bastards too.

  “They're altering course and coming towards us,” Mongo said. “Their weapons are charged, but they’re not targeting us – or anyone else.”

  “Good,” Steve said. The ships might be smaller than his ship, but they packed a nasty punch ... assuming, of course, the Hordesmen knew how to use the weapons. Did they? It seemed impossible that they didn't ... and besides, he didn't dare assume so unless he had very clear proof of their failings. “Are our assault teams ready to go?”

  “Aye, sir,” Kevin said. “Edward is ready to go; I’ve uploaded starship specifications into his combat implants, so he and his team won’t be lost.”

  “Excellent,” Steve said.

  “Picking up a response,” Mongo interrupted. “They’re demanding more details.”

  “Tell our spoiled brat to start whining,” Steve ordered. The simulated Subhorde Commander wasn't any more intelligent or knowledgeable than the one Steve had killed. He wouldn't know what was wrong, any more than the rest of his people. They probably thought that kicking the equipment would start it working again. “And then request immediate transhipment of emergency supplies.”

  “Enemy ships entering weapons range,” Mongo said. “I’m passive-locking our weapons onto their shield generators.”

  Steve smirked. One idea that seemed to have come straight out of Star Trek was aligning the teleporter to beam its people through the shields, provided one knew the shield frequency. The Hordesmen probably didn't know it was possible, but the interface had helpfully provided details when asked. Once their shields were battered down, the assault would begin ... if, of course, they had to batter down the shields. As long as the Horde had no idea that Shadow Warrior was in human hands, they'd come in fat and happy.

  “Keep passive target locks at all times,” he said. “If we go active, they’ll smell a rat.”

  The seconds ticked away as the two starships converged on Shadow Warrior. “Enemy ships are entering teleport range now,” Mongo said. “They’re requesting permission to board.”

  Steve checked the weapon at his belt, then keyed the alarm. Throughout the ship, the entire crew would be drawing weapons, ready to engage the aliens if they managed to teleport onto the ship. The human crew couldn't risk alerting the aliens, Steve knew; they’d have to wipe out the unsuspecting aliens as quickly as possible. At least they now knew how to configure their stunners to stun Hordesmen, rather than butchering them like animals.

  He took a breath. “Grant it,” he ordered. “And prepare to lower shields.”

  If the timing worked ... if the timing worked ...

  “One ship has lowered shields,” Mongo reported. There was a grim note of frustration in his voice. “The other is keeping its shields in position.”

  Steve gritted his teeth. The ambush, it seemed, was about to get bloody. “Beam the first set of assault teams to the enemy starship,” he ordered. “And then target the other ship’s shield generators and open fire!”

  Mongo keyed a switch. “Aye, sir,” he ordered. “Phasers engaging ... now!”

  On the screen, the second enemy starship was suddenly wrapped in a bubble of glowing light as the directed energy weapons burned into its shields. Its companion was already partly disabled – the attackers had beamed stun grenades and modified screamers as well as the assault team itself – but Steve kept an eye on it anyway. Maybe someone had been wearing a mask or a spacesuit, something that would provide enough protection for them to rally the troops and counterattack.

  “Enemy ship is returning fire,” Mongo said. The starship shuddered a moment later as pulses of energy slammed into her shields. At least none of the consoles seemed inclined to explode as the starship was hammered. That always happened on Star Trek, but it was more than a little unrealistic. “They’re coming right toward
s us.”

  Ramming speed, Steve thought. If the Horde Commander thought he and his crew were doomed, he might as well try to take the captured starship down with them. It would fit in with what they knew of the Horde’s Code of Honour, although Steve wouldn't have called it Honour. More like bloody-minded stupidity.

  “Evasive action,” he snapped. It wasn't going to be easy. The smaller ship was considerably more manoeuvrable than the Warcruiser. He hastily checked with the interface and discovered that a small cruiser ramming a full-sized Warcruiser would almost certainly result in mutual destruction. “And continue firing.”

  “Target their drives,” Kevin advised. “Slow them down!”

  “It doesn't fucking matter,” Mongo snapped. He didn't look up from his console. “We either board them or destroy them or we’re thoroughly fucked.”

  Steve cursed under his breath, feeling helpless as the smaller ship converged on his starship. They were evading, but the smaller ship was easily altering its course to ensure that it would still manage to ram the larger ship. Statistics raced up the side of the display, charting the damage to the enemy ship’s shields and the time to impact, when the two ships would collide.

  I kept Mariko on the ship, Steve thought, with sudden bitter regret. He didn't mind risking his own life – it ran in the family – but risking the life of his partner and children were quite another matter. And, with Mongo and Kevin on the ship, there would be no one left to look after the children. All of their children. I’ve killed her.

  Mongo let out a cry of delight. “Their shields are fluctuating ... one shield hexagon is down!”

  “Beam the assault team onboard,” Steve ordered. The enemy commander was clearly no slouch, even if he didn't really understand the technology at his command. He was already rolling the ship, trying to put another shield hexagon between his ship and Shadow Warrior. But it was too late. “And then prepare fire support, if necessary.”

  “Understood,” Mongo said. Shadow Warrior rolled again, evading the suddenly uncontrolled alien craft. Steve fretted for a long moment before confirming that the ship’s course would take it nowhere near Earth. “Assault team one reports that they have secured their target.”

  “Good,” Steve said. With the Hordesmen stunned or dead, there would be nothing standing between the humans and control of the starship. “Have them take control of the ship, then steer her to the reception point. And continue to monitor assault team two.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Shadow Warrior, Earth Orbit

  Jumping into a combat situation had always given Edward Romford the shakes, even before he'd been crippled and forced to face the fact that he'd never walk again. He was fine walking to the line of battle, or driving a Bradley towards the sound of the guns, but dropping from an aircraft and parachuting into the combat zone scared the pants off him. In that sense, the teleporter was actually worse, with a brief interval when the enemy could shoot at him and he couldn't even see them.

  The silver light faded away, revealing the bridge of an alien starship. Like the first starship, it was a strange mixture of technology, with several pieces that might come from a previously unknown race. The aliens were already staggering as the stun grenades took effect, but several of them had managed to don masks before it was too late. Edward silently gave them points for earnestness, even though he hated what he’d read of the Horde. He’d hated wearing MOPP suits too.

  He lifted his weapon as soon as he orientated himself and opened fire, spraying stun pulses over the entire compartment. The stunner was a fantastic weapon, he decided, as the remaining aliens hit the deck. It was easy enough to point and shoot, then sort everyone out afterwards. Indeed, he had a feeling that police departments across the USA would be trying to buy stunners as soon as they went on the market. But that would be years in the future.

  Bracing himself, he stepped forward, hunting for the alien in charge. The starship’s commander had fallen off his throne, somehow; Edward couldn't help thinking of a spider that had been flipped upside down by a cruel human as he rolled the alien over and tried to remove the neural interface. It stubbornly refused to budge and, despite its apparent frailty, wouldn't come free when he pulled at it. As far as he could tell, it had merged with its owner’s flesh.

  He keyed his communicator as the rest of the team spread through the starship, stunning the handful of remaining aliens. “Sir, I can't disengage the neural interface.”

  There was a long pause. “I killed the last one,” Stuart said, grimly. “They don’t disengage unless commanded to do so or if their owner is dead.”

  Edward gritted his teeth, then drew his knife from his belt and sliced open the alien’s throat. Foul-smelling green blood cascaded out, pooling on the already scarred and tainted deck, as the alien breathed its last. The interface hummed slightly, then withdrew from the alien’s skull. As soon as it was free, Edward felt an odd compulsion to take it for himself and place it on his head.

  He fought it off as he picked the headband up and passed it to the volunteer. The volunteer took it and placed it on his head, then winced as the interface made contact with his brain. From what Edward had been told, the experience was painful, but the volunteer’s face looked as if he were on the verge of collapsing into madness. Eventually, finally, he brought the link under control.

  “I think this one was made by different people,” he said, as he took control of the starship. “The operating system appears to be completely different.”

  “I see,” Edward said. “Does that mean you can’t handle the ship?”

  “I can handle it,” the volunteer assured him. “It just took some time for the device to adapt to a human brain.”

  Edward nodded, then keyed his communicator again. “Target secured,” he said. “I say again, target secured.”

  It had been easy, he knew, but the Hordesmen had suspected nothing until it was far too late for them to escape. If they realised that the Sol System was becoming a black hole for their ships, they’d either give the system a wide berth or send a much more formidable fleet to challenge Earth's defences. By then, humanity had better be ready to defend itself.

  “Understood,” Stuart said. “Take the ship to the reception point. We’ll deal with the prisoners there.”

  ***

  “Welcome to Alcatraz,” Graham Rochester said. “Our primary penal centre for alien POWs.”

  Steve had to smile. Alcatraz was nothing more than a dome of lunar rock, covering an area big enough for a dozen football fields. The only way in and out was through an airlock that wouldn't open unless a modified shuttle or tractor had already docked there and exchanged security codes. In the unlikely event of the prisoners managing to force their way through the airlock, they’d find themselves breathing hard vacuum. If they weren't careful, the entire prison would decompress.

  “We’ve included a sizable supply of their food,” Rochester continued. “Once they wake up, we’ll send a holographic projection into the prison and explain the state of affairs. I don’t think they can kill themselves with what they have on hand, but ...”

  He shrugged. “Overall, given their honour code, they probably will try to end their lives,” he warned. “But we can't guard against that without keeping them stunned indefinitely, which will eventually kill them anyway.”

  “Understood,” Steve said. On the display, the alien prisoners were sleeping peacefully. None of them had been particularly injured, but four had died when they’d collapsed at the wrong time and injured themselves when they fell. Their bodies had been shipped to a medical centre, where they would be examined carefully by human scientists. “Do you have any other concerns?”

  “The Hordesmen don’t treat their prisoners very well,” Rochester said. “It occurs to me that we could try to convert some of the POWs to our side. They’d be killed if we sent them home, sir. They have to know it.”

  “Bastards,” Steve said. What sort of idiot would blame someone for being taken prisoner when
there had been literally no opportunity to resist? But there had been human cultures like that too, ones that had treated the prisoners they’d taken shamefully. “But if you can get it organised, feel free to try.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rochester said. “I’d also like to get a few military policemen up here to help take care of the prisoners. We’ll treat them under the Geneva Conventions as much as possible.”

  Steve looked up at him. “We cannot afford to allow them to send messages home,” he said. “That would be far too revealing.”

  “Assuming that their bosses are interested in any messages from prisoners,” Rochester commented. “But apart from that, we will treat them fairly well.”

  Steve nodded and turned away from the display. “On to more serious matters,” he added, “how are you getting along with Heinlein Colony?”

  “Expanding faster and faster,” Rochester said. “The new supplies from Earth really helped, sir. But we are going to need more personnel soon enough. And some proper cooks.”