Trapped

by Scott Bartlett

  “Good.” The tactical display turned red with the cloud of incoming amoebas. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  Chapter 27

  Relentless Air Group

  Just beyond UHC Relentless’ nearspace

  “Keep it together, folks,” Callum said. “Work with your wingman, controlled bursts, take out what you have in front of you.”

  “Shiiiiiiit,” Z-man called. “There’s a helluva lot more out here than there were before.”

  “What did I just say?”

  “Sorry, Major.”

  “Hang tight. Backwash incoming.” He watched the barrage of missiles from the Relentless roaring up behind them. A moment later, the missiles soared past, their internal AI guidance easing them past the fighters and forward into the unrelenting cloud of aliens ahead.

  “Go get some, little dudes,” Thunder croaked, his Winger beak clattering in his flight suit. Callum had put on a Winger flight suit once, just for fun. No one had told him how much it would smell. It hadn’t actually turned out to be all that fun. Even so, he was happy to have the sensible Winger along.

  Another wave of missiles screamed past, these fired by the Providence. The crisscrossing missile barrages smashed into the approaching aliens. Many of them were destroyed. But even from this distance, Callum could tell that that their constant location-shifting was limiting the damage.

  “They’re adapting,” he muttered. The aliens had only seen the paired-wave tactic once, and they were already adapting to it.

  “Well, we can adapt too,” said Rooster, ever the optimist.

  “Remember, team, we don’t have the advantage of subspace capabilities, so don’t think linearly. Your enemy is the one who can drop in and out of space at will. That means that we have to focus on maneuverability, not forward thrust.”

  A number of affirmative responses came over the com. “Good hunting,” Callum said as the first warning lights began to blare on his HUD, to indicate that there were ships now within his firing range.

  Callum switched to his local shared frequency for his wingman. “Rooster, let’s open a path.”

  In unison, the two Pythons let loose with a string of Punisher missiles. They were dumb ordnance, but right now they just wanted a clear path to—

  Something shimmered into view directly between Callum and Rooster.

  “Tango Two,” snapped Rooster, identifying another target that had appeared just out of Callum’s view at his two o’clock.

  “Your kill,” snapped Callum, not taking his eyes off the alien in front of him. “I’m on deck.” He began firing the instant before he engaged the gyroscope to rotate the outer shell of his fighter around, bringing the kinetic cannons toward the target. Time was more important than accuracy here. He only had a blink of an eye before the thing could—

  The ship shimmered, already starting to duck out of realspace.

  An explosion burst from its port side where the first of Callum’s kinetic kill-slugs hit the ship. He kept his thumb mashed down on the top of his stick. “Eat that, bastard,” he shouted as the shimmer abruptly stopped and the ship spun wildly around, out of control.

  Callum’s Python continued to hurtle forward in space, but he had a perfect view of the amoeba-like alien, even as it was sliding away in the HUD view. Two more kinetic impactors found the mark and the ship blew open, its soft, organic exterior splitting apart and bleeding into space.

  “Splash one.” The moment he said it, red impact lights blared on his helmet. He turned to see Rooster’s fighter tumbling toward him on a collision course.

  Callum instinctively shoved his stick down and applied full power. For an agonizing moment, his Python refused to respond, stubbornly adhering to the laws of physics.

  Finally, it relented to his thrusters’ power, breaking the spell of inertia. His Python leapt downward just as Rooster went tumbling past.

  As soon as his view cleared, another alien ship appeared, covered by the telltale shimmer as it jumped into realspace.

  Callum reacted reflexively, mashing down on his kinetic impactors before his outer shell brought the cannons around to zero in on the alien.

  His aggressiveness paid off, clipping the thing just as it began to shimmer again for a jump out. For all their ability to move fast, the alien vessels weren’t heavily armored, and every kinetic impact seemed to rattle the outer skin. Two more impacts, and it joined the other alien, ripped into meaty chunks in space.

  “Splash two. Rooster, status?”

  “I’m OK,” Rooster said, his fighter back under control “The bastard shot that acid at me.”

  “Are you hit?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure. Can you look?”

  Just then, three of the aliens all jumped into space right behind Rooster. “Dive,” Callum managed, instinctively reaching toward his kinetic cannon release. But this time, he couldn’t start firing before he had a solution. If he did, those wild shots risked hitting Rooster. His ship could take a couple of slug impacts, but at this close range, the rounds might do severe damage.

  Instead of executing a true dive, Rooster did an inverted spin, flipping around and straining his gyroscope. But it was up to the task, and it quickly compensated for the motion by spinning his outer shell around and bringing his cannons to bear from the other direction.

  Callum started firing, knowing it was too late. The aliens would be able to see this coming.

  But a funny thing happened. With both he and Rooster concentrating their slugs, the aliens became overwhelmed. Rather than jumping instantly, they seemed to hesitate, trying to understand the flight pattern of the kill-slugs coming fast at them. That moment of hesitation killed them. All three were shredded where they floated in their indecision.

  “Boo-yah!” yelled Rooster. “Not so tough now.”

  “They’re easily confused,” Callum said, talking fast. “That’s why the paired missile launches are so successful. Sure, they’re familiar with those now, and they adapt quickly. But that adapting is their crutch. Take just then. They hesitated—probably trying to figure out our attack pattern. But it took them too long. If they’d accepted there was no pattern, or just jumped away, they might not have died. But they couldn’t help themselves. They had to hang around and see if they could find a pattern.”

  “That’s a lotta talk, boss. What are you getting at?”

  “We need to be working in larger groups that can concentrate firepower.” Callum flipped over to the all-com channel. “All wings, if you can hear me, pair up. We should be in two by two formations, and we should concentrate firepower. I say again, concentrate firepower.”

  Almost immediately, Callum could see a change in the battlefield. Even without his enhanced HUD view, it was clear that there were more alien splashes occurring all around him.

  But there was a downside, which became clear after a few minutes. While the fighters were much more effective at getting kills on the aliens, they were also concentrating on far fewer targets. It didn’t take long to see that while the strategy could work, they’d need more fighters than they had to make it effective.

  He’d been so focused on the threats around him that he hadn’t realized that the cloud of aliens—what was left of it—was nearly past the destroyers’ air groups. The human starfighters were effectively in chase mode, just as they had been before.

  At least we understand what’s happening, this time. At least we managed to do some damage.

  The point defense systems on the destroyers came to life, raining down kinetic kill-slugs on the aliens. The Pythons couldn’t go near that hell, but it was incredibly effective at cutting down the incoming swarm.

  Plus, fewer threats had made it past the fighters than in the last engagement. And the hull-mounted railguns were cutting their numbers down even further.

  “We’re gonna win this one,” Rooster said.

  Almost on cue, something winked into life in the corner of Callum’s HUD. He didn’t want to believe it. Part o
f him wanted to pretend he hadn’t seen it.

  Then he heard a gasp of recognition over the com. It was followed by cursing from more than a few pilots.

  There were five more of the giant alien ships. And they were all belching out fresh swarms.

  “Or not,” he murmured to himself.

  Chapter 28

  Combat Information Center

  UHC Relentless

  “Five more of those Stomachs just appeared off the starboard bow,” Winterton said.

  Five more? Husher felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He winced and leaned back in the command chair. They were barely holding their own as it was. “Anything through the point defenses yet?”

  Tremaine shook his head. “Not yet, sir. The Pythons were effective—they chewed up the first wave pretty good. We might want the marines and mechs on standby, but I don’t anticipate a hull breach of the magnitude we had last time.”

  “Not from this round,” the XO muttered. “But sure as hell from the next.”

  “Sir,” said Tremaine sharply as he looked up from the tactical board. “I think we’re seeing a change in tactics.”

  Husher stood and quickly crossed to his console. “What do you mean?”

  Tremaine pointed to his console’s viewscreen. “These three aren’t deploying any of the smaller ships. They’re not unraveling like the others.”

  “What are they doing, then?” Shota asked, walking over to join them.

  “They’re breaking away and moving toward the edge of the battle group.”

  Husher frowned. “That is a new tactic, and one that’s more conventional. They’re going after the heart of our battle group.”

  “I’d suggest the very heart,” Tremaine said, dragging his finger along a line that extended from the current course of the three huge ships and ended on the largest green dot on his tactical board.

  “The Providence?”

  Tremaine nodded.

  “How did they identify the lead ship so fast?”

  Shota shrugged. “It’s the largest. And it’s clearly being held back.”

  “Fair enough.” Husher cursed under his breath. “Has the Providence figured this out?”

  “I’m guessing they have now,” Tremaine said, as the point of light indicating the Providence began to slide sideways, putting one of the destroyers between it and the aliens.

  “What destroyer is that?”

  “The Strongbow.”

  Captain Nolle. A good man, and a better commander. “Very well, tell the Strongbow that we’re inbound to join her for intercept actions. Helm, take the coordinates and get us there now.”

  “Yes, sir.” Moens’ hands were already flying across his console.

  The Relentless responded almost instantly. A moment later, Husher ordered a full spread of Gorgons and Hydras.

  “Get me Nolle, Long.”

  “Aye, sir,” the Coms officer said.

  “I’m requesting the addition of your particle beam to ours,” Husher said the moment he had Nolle on the com.

  “We’re right there with you. Our battery is charged. Should we fire in unison or take turns?”

  “Unison. My fighters report the enemy gets confused in situations with multiple fire points. But I want to make sure we wait until they get hit with that missile barrage, to mask our efforts as much as possible. Helm, how close are we?”

  “We’re within range,” Moens said. “But we need to get closer to—”

  “Missile impact,” said Captain Nolle, interrupting Moens. “It’s now or never if we want the element of surprise.”

  Husher nodded. “We’ll target the closest vessel, then, Captain?”

  “Affirmative.”

  Fire the particle beam, Tremaine. ”

  Together, the two destroyers fired their particle beams in unison.

  The lead Stomach seemed to hesitate, then shift course. But it was too slow. Maybe the ability to appear and disappear at will meant a trade-off with agility in conventional space.

  Either way, the lead Stomach exploded in a spectacular fireball. Because it looked organic, Husher had assumed its destruction would be more akin to a watermelon exploding than a starship. But he was wrong. The explosion was, if anything, larger and brighter than a similar-sized destroyer would be.

  “Sir,” Tremaine said. “The explosion. It’s killing them.”

  Husher whipped his head around to see that the explosion was indeed causing havoc among the alien ranks. A second Stomach ship was clearly on fire, having sustained damage from the destruction of the ship next to it. The third was falling back. And all around them, the cloud of smaller aliens was convulsing as material from the destroyed ship tore into their ranks. Rather than fleeing, they seemed to be drawn to the wreckage, like they were trying to figure out what was happening rather than running away.

  Husher said a small prayer of thanks that particle beams had replaced the lasers he’d had on his last command. They were more energy-efficient, and didn’t require the sustained contact lasers did, getting the same damage done in shorter bursts.

  It was a welcome victory in an engagement that had mostly proven harrowing, so far. He’d been the one that advocated for this attack. He’d been the imprudent one this time.

  But was I imprudent? He couldn’t have known the Stomachs would drop out of space like that. And he still believed they couldn’t afford to hold back anymore, trapped in this universe as they were. They needed to take the fight to the enemy, no matter how overwhelming their numbers. They needed to gain a foothold.

  And yet, a glance at the tactical display told him that was hopeless. Even as they’d repelled the three Stomachs, six more had appeared, and they were joining their undamaged brothers in making another run at the battle group.

  Then, without explanation, they stopped.

  Husher stared at the viewscreen, blinking. “Is there a sensor malfunction?”

  Winterton shook his head. “I’m not getting any errors.” He turned toward Husher. “It seems they truly have halted, sir.”

  Stranger still, the smaller amoeba ships were allowing themselves to be shot and destroyed by the fighter wings, which were only too happy to oblige.

  The alien numbers were dwindling fast

  “What the hell is going on?” Shota snapped, the irritation clear in his voice.

  “Sir.” Long was holding an earpiece tight to the side of his head. “You might want to hear this.”

  “What is it?”

  “There’s a message coming in from the aliens again.”

  “Like the distress signal?”

  Long shook his head. “That’s just it, sir. It’s not like that at all. It’s…well, it’s in Galactic standard.”

  Husher exchanged a look with his XO.

  “That’s a new one,” Shota said. “They can’t have ever had contact with humans. How are they talking to us in our own language?”

  Husher was starting to get the sense humanity was a new player in a game that had been going on for a long time. What exactly had they stumbled into?

  He tried to release the tension in his shoulders, but the knots stubbornly remained. “Patch it through to the intercom.”

  Chapter 29

  Combat Information Center

  UHC Relentless

  “We know who you are,” the voice said.

  The voice had…depth. In fact, it didn’t sound like a single voice. It was as though a billion voices were speaking as one, but in perfect harmony.

  An overwhelming sense of dread had wormed its way into Husher’s chest, as though all those voices were leaning over him and whispering directly into his ear. Violent, harsh sounds seemed to echo in the background of the voice as it finished each word, like the sound of waves crashing onto a dark, desolate beach. He could feel the power hidden behind that wave of sound pushing down on his chest, taking his breath away.

  He wanted to glance around the CIC to see if others were experiencing the same sensation, but he couldn’t
seem to turn his head. He couldn’t move at all. His body was completely in rapture to the sound of the voice coming over the speaker.

  “We know you are human. We know of your universe. We know how you got here. We know why you are here. You may call us the Brood, although we are also the Knowing Ones. That is how our name would be translated in your limited language. There is no limit to what we know. We know you are doomed here, and this is one thing that you know as well. But we also know that you are addicted to hope, and we are willing to exchange hope for what we need.”

  For beings who thought they knew everything, they didn’t seem to know how bargaining worked. You weren’t really supposed to spell out the deal in a way that insulted the person you were bargaining with.

  “We will trade you exactly one thing for your ongoing hope.” The voice paused as the crashing background noise hit a crescendo, then died down. “We want the one you call Husher.”

  The instant he heard his name spoken, it was like the spell was broken. He felt whatever had been pushing down on his chest disintegrate. His chest heaved, as if he’d been holding his breath for a long time. Perhaps he had.

  He turned to the Coms officer. “Can we send a message back?”

  The Coms officer looked over at Husher stupidly, his mouth open, his eyes practically glazed over. It seemed to take several seconds of concerted effort for him to break free of the spell. “N-no sir. That is to say, I don't think there’s anything blocking us from sending a signal back, but I have no way of knowing if they’ll receive it.”

  The Brood was still talking. “We wish to study Husher. We believe he has much to divulge to us. So we, the Brood, make you this offer. Give us Husher, and we will let you leave. We will not engage a single one of your ships. We will even allow you to destroy all the ships you see before you, if that is your wish. We won’t stop you.” The wave of energy again seemed to crash over Husher. “We will give you all the time you need. But understand: if you try to leave with him, we will annihilate you. You have not yet seen what the Brood can do. Give us Husher and you won’t have to, this day.”