The Last Holidays

by Grover Young

  As for Weyland himself, he'd 'recycled' the gear we used to get into the airlock. It was now a pair of stout metal clubs that he could form instantly into just about any form he desired, even if they were only terrestrial composition. His power let him harden them to levels that were competitive with anything we'd seen from the Sha'leians. It was just too damn bad he was just one man and that were only so many hours in a day.

  I think I was the only one who wasn't carrying something made by him. Well, except my locket which really wasn't a weapon or shield. Then again, maybe it was, because having it certainly helped me face the uncertainty that lay in front of us.

  Talos's left whip extended to the overhead hatch. It was show time!

  “On three,” he warned.

  The 'lens' of the hatch snapped open and I stood up waiting only a split second to feel that Bes had left the good ship Halcyon. Then, I flew the rest of the way in.

  “Bloody hell!” my pint sized teammate cursed, as no less than four Sha'leians were all over him looking like a bizarre Loony-Toons version of Karate Kid. Using their arms for balance their very intimidating taloned feet were scything out like knives. Okay, maybe more like machetes, given the damn things were near eight inches long.

  He snatched at one foot and threw the owner into the others as his Skins sealed over the cut it'd delivered. That was right before he got kicked like a soccer ball. Bouncing, bounding, he got his legs underneath him just before hitting the bulkhead. Kicking off of it, he cannonballed right back into them.

  Then, it was my turn as more of the ship's crew boiled out of the other hatches leading into the compartment. Glancing down at Talos, the rest of the Spartan Team had their own problems as they got hit, too. Our retreat got cut off as Talos had to defend himself and the hatch closed.

  Like Bes had discovered, our Skins only gave just so much protection from those damn claws. I caught a glimpse of it turning quick-silver bright just before I got sliced across my 'mountains' which hurt like crazy let me tell you!

  Like out of some martial arts movie, they never got in each other's way. The coordinated twirling dance of razors gave me this very strange image of Thai kick-boxers and the Radio City Rockettes. It was really a good thing I was Halcyon.

  My 'cut' healed up faster than even my Skins, with my golden skin flowing back over the incision like a liquid. Reversing my flight, I almost caught one behind me, as I snagged the clawed foot of another heading for my face. It made a dandy club to beat the rest with.

  In seconds, my Skins were perforated in a half-dozen places and I had to procure another 'club' since my first went limp. Lightning fast, I grabbed Bes's arm before he smacked into me, and sent him back the way he came.

  “Thanks Mate!” I think he said, but it might've been something else less complimentary. It was Bes after all.

  Whatever, preconceptions I held of our Visitors being silly looking 'Tweety' birds were gone. That was replaced by something like how much I liked fighting a pack of velociraptors in a closet. I'd just finished doing the Bam-Bam thing from the Flintstones by repeatedly bouncing my opponent off the floor and ceiling a few times while Bes had one in a headlock with yet another in a leg-scissors.

  “Need any help with that?” I inquired, after making sure my unconscious foe wasn't going to be a problem anytime soon.

  “I think,” White scar marks on his face where his helmet had been shattered were fading as he grunted, “I've got this.”

  Apparently Sha'leians needed blood flow to their heads too, as they weakly fought back as he tightened his grip.

  And, no, we didn't just kill them all. Someone had to show us how to operate this ship after we take it. That was my argument, however much everyone else's opinion was to kill them all and toss what was left out the airlock. If the average person, freezing to death in this alien made Fimbulwinter, would cheerfully tear and rend each and every one of the unconscious figures lying on the deck, the Special Ops community tended to be even more bloodthirsty if in a very icy manner. Too often, they, no we were the first to see the results of the alien robots' drops on our world and cities. So many dead, and now the ones responsible were helpless before us.

  I removed our prisoner’s equipment belts and zip tied them while Bes took care of his opponents. Maybe I do think too much, because I was thinking of the next battle. If we slaughter this crew, including, Tash, Ralt and Kzon, then the next vessel will be seeking redress and revenge, as well as knowing they could expect no quarter from us. Someone had to, if not stop the fighting, to try and moderate the bloodletting.

  Two would not be needing my attentions, as between my pure strength and Bes's own plus his knuckle-dusters, something had killed them. Well, they had tried to kill us, so I couldn't feel guilty, but I was finding that fighting our enemies face to face wasn't the same as smashing endless tides of robots.

  Securing our prisoners took only seconds. Like everything else, Talos and our trainers made us practice every detail including the little details like being able to zip-tie limp bodies quickly.

  Of course, that left us with another problem. The hatches had shut behind our assailants, and so had the one we'd come through. Bes examined the deck-hatch and, like me, wondered what the hell we were going to do. It lacked any kind of handhold or grip for leverage and fit so finely it was damn near one piece.

  We both grinned in relief as the hatch rang with 'Shave and a Haircut' from someone banging on it from the other side.

  “And Five Bob,” Bes grinned, as he hammered out the reply.

  Talos's face, when he opened the hatch, was anything but smiling. From the blood, human and Sha'leian alike, it'd been one hell of a fight. Unlike with Bes and me, there weren't any alien survivors. On the other hand, Talos, Artemis and Weyland were all melee combat specialists armed with sharp pointy things. The last, Nott, was more defensive, being able to blind our opponents.

  In short, it'd been a slaughter.

  “Okay, change of plans,” Talos reached up for us to help him up, “Nott will blind the other side of the overhead-hatch, and then we'll toss Bes and Artemis up. Halcyon has a long enough reach to cover the deck and the starboard hatches. Weyland will cover the port side, which will leave me holding the line of retreat open for the entry team.”

  After pulling everyone up, we got into position. This time, we had some idea of what to expect when we 'divided' our party. The moment Bes and Artemis were up and Nott dropped her darkness, all the hatches opened at once. However, this time they tried something a little different. A fusillade of energy beams shot out!

  Thankfully, they weren't our unfriendly Visitor's usual plasma burners. They appeared to be a kind of ball lightning taser-like weapon. The missed shots spattered and hissed as they impacted the wall. Realizing they weren't light speed weapons, I smacked as many as I could out the air to cover my team mates.

  Like against their claws, our Skins didn't do squat protecting us from these things. However, after being electrocuted so many times over the past month the 'balls of lightning' only stung a little. The faint fading sparkles suggested that the 'charge' was suspended in some kind of material that disintegrated after striking.

  Nott threw up her darkness in front of Weyland's hatch. That absolute black drank up anything that had light and energy, even plasma burners. All that exited was these puffball-like things that were harmless.

  Moving to completely block the access way to cover Talos who couldn't move because he was the one keeping the hatch open for our entry team of Bes and Artemis, I soaked up as much of the energy as I could.

  Apparently, this was all being coordinated and controlled from someone who knew that shooting energy at me was an losing proposition. Nott and I had stopped this volley of theirs cold.

  I saw movement through the open hatch, probably preparation for another assault following their taser attack. They must've changed their minds since the hatches zipped shut. And no, I wasn't about to pull a Han Solo and go charging in. That was just a bad
idea.

  This time though, we didn't need to pause to reorganize. Talos gave terse gestures for us to advance, with me pulling rearguard. Which made sense because I was tough enough to take just about anything the defending crew could dish out.

  Weyland tapped me on my shoulder letting me know he was clear, and I was the last one out. Still flying cross-legged like some demented genie who'd forgotten his carpet, I backed up and out of the compartment.

  Talos released his 'control' on that portal, and as soon as I was in position to cover my assigned areas again, immediately opened the next overhead hatch. It'd taken us longer than it should have to get our ducks in a row, and that gave our 'hosts' time to plan welcoming parties. That was the price of having such limited intelligence and of the short time to train, not only for the mission, but as a team.

  However, now we had gotten our feet under us and were making real progress. You would think I would know better than to tempt fate than to think things like that. We were about where our best guesses said their control room should be. The plan was to completely clear the next deck. We were kinda forced to do things this way since we seriously lacked the manpower to completely clear each deck as we advanced. Missing Team Thebes hurt in more ways than one.

  Bes and Artemis had no sooner entered the overhead hatch than they were calling for reinforcements.

  “Twenty plus hostiles!” Artemis reported, her hands a blur as her knives flew.

  At the same time, the hatches at our level opened, and a hail of more taser balls came whizzing out again.

  “Nott!” Talos commanded, “Blackout our level and get everyone up!”

  He had already flipped himself up to the next level and was keeping the way open with one of his whips while using the other to help the entry team. Then things went black as Nott did as ordered. I'd learned that not even Halcyon could see in that 'night' my teammate created.

  It took some willpower to stay still, waiting for her to guide me out. I knew I would be last, since she knew I was resistant to that 'ball' lightning and besides, I'd been doing the rearguard thing.

  On the other hand, just about nothing energy wise could get through that darkness of hers either. I felt a few warm impacts from the 'puffs' of the de-energized tasers, but that was all. Well, maybe, I was understating the power of those weapons because for shipborne use they seemed practical. You really didn't want something that could blow holes out into the cold, hard, unfriendly vacuum of space.

  Her hands guided mine to the rim of the open overhead hatch, and then I was in the light again. Truth to my words, Weyland was doing the 220 dance after being tagged by one of those taser spheres. I threw myself between him and the rest of the volley while trying to work out the situation.

  This room was painted in violet too, but also with shades of white. It was also much larger with rows of couches and equipment. Bes was right about the twenty plus, but didn't go anywhere near high enough. There were about twenty of those stations in this compartment, but the hatches were open to the others on this level too that showed more of those same couches.

  Did I mention the horde of Sha'leian defenders taking cover behind them as they poured their fire into us from all directions? Those damn taser things were splashing and crackling all over the place. We had found their command center alright, but not the one we were looking for. This wasn't where they controlled their ship, but instead their robot and drones. That also meant that all these suckers were their soldiers.

  Oh joy.

  Nott, taking in the scene, put up her darkness to cover our rear from that group, while I dragged Weyland behind cover. He was still alive, but I got the feeling they were using lethal charges.

  “Halcyon!” our leader ordered, “hold that hatch, Nott has blacked out.”

  “Nott,” he continued, “put your darkness in the far rear of the group facing us so they can't provide supporting fire to the front line.”

  Then he and Bes, with Artemis for fire support, charged into them. Meanwhile, I had my own problems. The defenders on the other side of my assigned hatch, seeing that Nott had thwarted their fire, decided to advance.

  Rushing forward I crashed into them. Being so damn big in comparison to the scale of this ship, I was able to force them back and mostly block the whole passage. Seeing it was me, they stopped with the tasers and began advancing again in that velociraptor high step.

  As much as they could only come at me a few at a time, they were so damn coordinated that they rarely got in each other’s way. It was a steady freaking stream of brightly colored bird-like aliens with talons as sharp as I thought, trying their best to slice me to bits.

  Managing to lay hands on one, I temporarily cleared the way in front of me. Using one as a club again, the others skittered away. Once they were clear, the hatch tried to shut on top of me. Orichalcum is some really tough stuff; however, if you were strong enough it could be bent. I'd been taking one heck of a zapping with all the taser fire they'd been throwing around. I was very charged up, as well as being very strong to begin with.

  The near impervious metal creaked and groaned as I fought the door's grasp. Managing to get my feet under me, I pushed. The metal tore and the entire hatch's frame deformed.

  “Thou shall not pass,” I announced, stealing a line from Tolkien. The slices in my Skins were sealing shut as I glared at the fifteen or so Sha'leians who were still standing as they backed off.

  Time with Tash and Ralt had taught me to read our enemies' faces. The ones before me clearly showed their shock. It was far past time to end this.

  “You know who we are,” I told them, “You know who I am, and that we will not stop while breath remains in us. As dire as your people's situation is, you know that humanity's is just as desperate. Enough have died. It is time to talk.

  “Now,” I might not be able to stand, given the low overhead, but through kneeling I was still proud and held myself up like the metal I appeared to made of. They had to know that my words held steel and that I meant every one of them. We were Quantum Warriors.

  “We will talk,” was the reply that sounded all over the ship. It was over.

  Sol system

  Sha'leian starship

  in orbit about the third planet

  Of course, it wasn't that easy. Talos and Athena, our two team leaders, weren't diplomats. They were there to take the invaders ship by force or by unconditional surrender. Rather reasonably, the Sha'leians would not do that without some assurances they wouldn't be kicked out of their own airlocks.

  On top of those problems, there were the practical considerations that as many as 60% of the Sha'leian crew had been killed or wounded. Prometheus’s children hadn't gotten away unharmed either. Weyland had gotten shocked real bad, and Talos had been caught in a nasty crossfire, too. Bio-metallic or not he'd taken enough shots to light up a not so small town. That put Bes as our team commander.

  Athena had causalities on her team as well. She had one outright dead, with two others about in the same shape as our two. You just don't get up and walk away from a severe electrical shock. Well, except for maybe me and Bes.

  That didn't change the fact that we didn't have enough effective troops for even one team. Athena and what was left of her team weren't moving from the engine room. That had been what had really stopped the fight. Her people had the power and know how to wreck this barge which, incidentally, probably would kill us all. It appeared that fighting to the death was a human thing.

  However, after assigning Nott to tend to our wounded, that left only Bes, Artemis and me. The odds didn't get any better after opening communications with dear old planet Earth. They too, demanded unconditional surrender, but as unhappy as our hosts were, they weren't stupid.

  Us crazy monkey boys might be capable of scuttling their ship, but they could do the old self-destruct thing, too. The best interim agreement that could be managed was all fighting on and about Earth stopped while they and their wounded would move to the boat bay while still hold
ing the bridge. That would let both sides treat their causalities until something better could be arranged.

  Then, fate threw in a monkey wrench. It seemed Team Thebes weren't all dead. Hurt and late, but at least some of them were still alive. Unfortunately, it was not in the Sha'leian's best interests to let yet more invaders onboard, we logically would need to make concessions.

  That wasn't happening. The politicians now stepped in demanding their say. They wanted the ship and crew. It didn't take a genius to see they were catering to the mob who were busily sharpening their guillotines and executioners' axes.

  Hammer Hobbs wasn't happy about any of it, but he passed along the directive that we were to force the issue and bring our wounded comrades aboard. That put us in a serious bind. The three of us, plus Nott and the wounded, were watching some one hundred aliens.

  The obvious response was to send me by myself to the rescue. The thing was, they were hurt, and it wasn't a good idea to be dragging them all over the outside of the ship. The Sha'leians still had weapons' control, and they were still steadfastly refusing to let them aboard till an agreement had been reached.

  “That's a little cold of them,” I said, “but it fits in with what we know of their psychology. You know that, 'The good of the many over the needs of the few thing.'”

  Bes's reply wasn't repeatable. I did get a suspicious glare from him. Although most were dead, there had been some few humans who welcomed our Guests. Mother Earth had too many people who had defiled her and all of that. Needless to say that, when survival became a necessity and resources became hard to come by, they got left out.