The Hive Invasion- The Complete Trilogy

by Jake Elwood

  The rock was gone. The space where it had been was empty. He looked for the Hive ships that had been targeting the Wasp and couldn't see them either.

  "It looks like we cracked the thing in half," Thursby said.

  Nicholson took a slow look around. He spotted a chunk of rock off to one side, spinning as it drifted away. Only when he saw a Hive ship beside it did he get a sense of scale. The rock was hundreds of meters long, a jagged slab maybe a quarter the size of the original stone.

  In another direction—'up' from the perspective of his seat in the Wasp—he saw a second chunk, easily twice the size of the first one. It was closer, deflected less because of its mass. It was still hurtling toward Ariadne at a high velocity, he realized. They all were. The rock would miss by tens of thousands of kilometers, perhaps hundreds of thousands. The planet was safe.

  Unless the aliens got to work redirecting the remains of their rock, of course. The defense of Ariadne wasn't over.

  "Good work," he said to Thursby. "Oh, and thanks for saving my life. Sorry I called you a cockroach."

  "I've been called worse," he said cheerfully. "I have two ex-wives. You'll have to work a lot harder if you want to offend me with harsh language."

  "I'll keep it in mind. Let's get back to the Theseus." He twisted in his seat, trying to look aft. "Do you see it?"

  "Seven o'clock," he said, his voice suddenly bleak. "Looks like they're in trouble."

  CHAPTER 38 - HAMMETT

  Damage report!" Hammett barked, wincing at the echo of his voice inside his helmet.

  "We're totally depressurized," Eddie said. "Engines still work, though."

  The drummer leaned in through the doorway. "Side's all stove in, Captain. It's quite a mess down there." He vanished again, his voice still audible over the suit radio. "There's a big split in the hull. Looks like one of the big rail gun things is bent." After a pause he added, "I think there was a turret on that side. I guess it's gone now."

  Gone. Hammett closed his eyes. Crushed flat, you mean. Obliterated in an instant, with the gunner inside. And any crew unlucky enough to be close by when the rock hit. The butcher's bill is going to be high. He opened his eyes. Later. Right now you have to focus on keeping the bill from getting higher.

  "Eddie. Send a broadcast to all hands. Tell them we've taken a hit, but we survived. We've taken the worst they can dish out, and we're still alive. And tell them the big rock has been destroyed. Ariadne's safe."

  Eddie nodded. A click sounded in Hammett's ears as Eddie changed frequencies. Eddie spoke, his arms moving unconsciously for emphasis. Hammett couldn't hear the words. Different teams had radios set to different frequencies. Hammett's radio was set to a frequency shared only by Eddie, Hal, and the drummer.

  The radio clicked again and Eddie said, "Done. What now, Boss?"

  "Trouble," Hal interrupted. "Look!"

  Hammett followed the direction of his pointing finger. Some fluke of physics had left a chunk of rock no more than thirty meters across spinning madly, its center of mass almost stationary in relation to the Theseus, only a few hundred meters away. Hive ships were gathering around the chunk, joining together to form a ring.

  "Bring us around," Hammett barked. "Get us pointed at those ships. I want the forward battery ready to fire. Get every turret firing now. We have to disrupt that ring."

  Eddie and Hal leaned over their consoles. Hal cursed, then said, "We've lost all the starboard nav thrusters."

  Nevertheless, the ship started turning, slower than Hammett would have liked. It would be too late, though. The circle of ships was complete. The chunk of rock was slowing its mad spin, and in moments it would come hurtling toward the Theseus.

  A flash of sparks erupted from a Hive ship as a rail gunner scored a lucky shot. The ring was too far away, though, for effective fire. A decent military-grade targeting system would have made short work of that circle of ships, but the colonists were aiming manually, and it was hopeless.

  Maybe it's too far for them as well. Maybe they'll miss. Maybe-

  Something glowed in the void of space on the far side of the ring of ships. A circle appeared, a disk of flashing white light made tiny by distance, with black specks dancing in the center. A moment later, the ring disintegrated.

  "What the hell?" It was the drummer, standing in the doorway, gaping at the distant circle of ships. "What's happening?"

  Alien ships were breaking apart, disintegrating, tumbling in pieces to collide with each other and the slowly spinning rock. For a moment Hammett thought his rail gunners were showing some amazing skill with their weapons. A quick glance at the nav display, though, showed him the truth. "That's laser fire," he said. "The fleet is back."

  Eddie let out a cheer, then leaned over to clap Hal on the back. Then he seemed to slump in his chair. He twisted around to look at Hammett. "Is that good news, Captain? Or bad news?"

  Hammett's own brief moment of exultation was fading. Ariadne and the Theseus were saved, but the EDF was back in charge. "I'm not sure, Eddie."

  "We've got an incoming call," Hal said glumly. "I suppose it's to tell us we're all under arrest." He flipped a switch on his console. "This is the Theseus."

  "Theseus," said a familiar voice. "This is Captain James Carruthers of the SS Indefatigable. Sorry for barging into your party uninvited, but we just couldn't resist. Are you in need of any assistance?"

  CHAPTER 39 - HAMMETT

  How's this, Captain?"

  Hammett looked at Eddie's worried face and suppressed a smile. The man looked more nervous than he had during the battle. "It's just fine, Eddie. Hold steady here."

  The relief fleet was queued up in a line, the ships no more than a dozen meters apart, with the Gideon in front and the Theseus bringing up the rear. The Gideon was a Jumper. It would generate a wormhole for the entire fleet.

  A shimmering white circle appeared in front of the Gideon. Hammett rarely got to see a wormhole with his own eyes, and he drank in the sight as the Gideon jumped through and disappeared. The rest of the fleet followed in rapid succession.

  "Remember, go down as soon as we're through," Hammett said, and Eddie gave a distracted nod. The supply ship directly ahead of them raced forward and vanished through the wormhole. Eddie hesitated for a moment, then hit the thrusters. The Theseus surged toward the shining circle of light. There was a flash of brightness, and then the circle was gone, replaced by a clutter of ships with Ariadne a dark crescent in the distance.

  Eddie braked and brought the nose of the Theseus down, then moved into position below a corvette. Each ship had a different direction assigned to it as it went through the wormhole, to reduce the likelihood of collisions on the far side. It was a slight danger, but it seemed to have loomed large in Eddie's mind. He sagged back in his chair and let out an exaggerated sigh. "We made it."

  "We did," said Hammett. "Good work." The Theseus had a split in her hull, but a force field now kept the atmosphere intact. He still wore his helmet, but he had the faceplate up. A familiar lassitude crept into his muscles. The danger was over for the moment. He could rest. The job was done.

  For now.

  The alien swarm had broken and run when the relief fleet came through the wormhole. They'd fled toward the pentagon constellation. Before long, Hammett knew, he'd have to take some ships and go after the aliens. There had to be a base out there in the deep dark. Either that or a Gate of some sort. He still had his orders from Admiral Castille. Track the enemy back to their hive and destroy them. With Ariadne safe, he could finally resume his mission.

  If they let him. He and the other Navy personnel on the Theseus had sneaked away to the hangar, hiding from O'Hare until the Theseus could launch. O'Hare would not take this breach of his authority lightly. Still, with a total of two EDF personnel in the entire system, he might have the sense not to push things. And if he decided to assert his tenuous authority, what could he do?

  "The fleet is moving," Hal said. "They say they're returning to Ariadne."

>   "We'll tag along," said Hammett. He watched as Ariadne loomed larger and larger through the window.

  "Look, Captain," said Hal. "More ships."

  Several points of light glittered on the far side of the planet, growing slowly as they approached the fleet, and Hammett's stomach sank. Carruthers, he remembered, had left a crew in orbit near Ariadne, assembling a new Gate to Earth. Apparently the Gate was active.

  The EDF was back.

  Boots clomped on the catwalk outside, and Sanjari came into the bridge. She carried her helmet carefully in both hands.

  "Specialist Sanjari," Hammett said. "Your helmet appears to be steaming."

  She grinned at him and came closer, and he saw four coffee cups cradled in the helmet. By the look of it two were black and two had cream. He smiled his thanks and lifted out a cup of black coffee.

  Sanjari delivered coffee to Eddie and Hal, then dropped into an empty chair and lifted her mug to Hammett. "To still being alive."

  "Hear, hear," Eddie said, and all four of them sipped.

  "A new fleet just came through from Earth," Hammett said, his voice carefully neutral.

  Sanjari quirked an eyebrow.

  "I was hoping they wouldn’t bother," Hammett admitted. "They were quick enough to abandon us, after all."

  She shrugged. "Maybe Acton's down in the polls. Needs to blow up some aliens, show the public he's doing something."

  "Maybe."

  She grimaced. "We know what the EDF is like, though. Fighting the Hive is secondary. Keeping the citizens in line is priority number one."

  "Yeah." He felt as weary as if he'd walked all the way back from the battle. "You never know, though. Maybe they've had a change of heart. Maybe they'll congratulate us on a job well done. Maybe they'll ask how they can help."

  Sanjari snorted.

  If only it was true. We have enough ships now to really make an impact. We could head out there right now. Fly toward the pentagon until we find their base. Catch up to them while they're still reeling from the last fight. Clobber them before they recover. We could really do some damage.

  If only.

  "Incoming call," Hal said. By his tone of voice it wasn't Carruthers. He glanced at Hammett, then flipped a switch when Hammett nodded.

  "Theseus. Take a stationary orbit above the colony settlement. The corvette Assegai will be docking with you."

  Hal flipped the switch back to its original position, cutting the connection. "Hello to you too," he said sarcastically. "Oh, fine, thanks for asking. You're welcome for fighting aliens and saving the planet. Oh, you want to speak to the captain? Well, since you said please and thank you, I guess I could put you through." He blew a raspberry. "Earthers." When Eddie jabbed him with an elbow he added, "Er, no offense."

  "None taken," Hammett said, amused. Eddie and Hal didn’t wear the uniform of Spacecom. They could speak their minds. There were rare moments when he envied them.

  The Assegai came soaring toward the Theseus. Both ships had airlocks and docking clamps in their noses, so the corvette flew as if darting in for a kiss. Eddie had oriented the ship so that the planet was "down", which made a certain kind of sense, though Hammett wished he could have looked out the window at the world he'd fought so hard to save. The Assegai tilted as it approached, matching the attitude of the freighter.

  "Permission to enter the bridge."

  Hammett turned. A short older man stood in the doorway. His vac suit hid his build, but he gave an impression of wiry strength. "Ron, isn't it?" said Hammett.

  Ron nodded.

  "Permission granted. We're about to receive visitors."

  Ron stood beside the captain's chair and watched the Assegai approach. "Coming in a bit fast, aren't they?" He was reaching for the back of the chair to brace himself when thrusters on the nose of the corvette glowed red. "Show-offs," Ron grumbled as the Assegai drifted to a perfect stop, the locks touching with a metallic clatter and a hint of a tremble in the deck plates.

  Before long Hammett heard the thump of feet on the catwalk that ran along the spine of the ship. Ron turned to the doorway, squaring his shoulders. He was a person of some importance in the colony, Hammett recalled. I'll have to make introductions. I wish I knew his last name.

  O'Hare, predictably, was the first person through the doorway. Two more EDF officers followed him, strangers, men unified by red shirts, black sashes, and an air of self-importance. No fewer than four marines followed, laser rifles held across their chests.

  O'Hare pushed past Ron, ignoring him completely, and planted himself in front of Hammett's chair. Hammett stood and crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at the shorter man. He could see the other EDF men and the marines in the corner of his eye, gathered along the side bulkhead.

  "Hammett." O'Hare paused long enough to give him a spiteful smile. "You are hereby relieved of command. I am placing you under arrest for gross insubordination." He made a peremptory gesture and a pair of marines came forward.

  Hammett started to protest, then sighed and closed his mouth. The marines slung their rifles and grabbed his arms, not gently. They hauled him sideways a couple of steps, pausing when O'Hare opened his mouth.

  "This unauthorized vessel is now under the command of the Earth Defense Force." O'Hare glared around the bridge, then gestured at the EDF man on his right. "This is Colonel Holmes. He'll take command here."

  Hammett looked for Ron, wondering how the colonist would react. He was just in time to see the back of the man's head as he hurried from the bridge.

  "There will be some changes around here," O'Hare continued. "We'll have no more sudden trips without proper EDF supervision. A contingent of marines will come on board and confiscate your sidearms, as well." His gaze, cold and imperious, swept the bridge, looking for signs of dissent.

  No one spoke.

  "You're all lucky I don't have you hanged for treason." O'Hare headed for the doorway. The marines were already following, dragging Hammett with them, but O'Hare still made a peremptory gesture.

  The catwalk seemed to stretch away for kilometers as Hammett plodded along, keenly aware of the shocked eyes of the crew staring up at him from the hold below. He felt a strange, numb unreality, as if the whole experience was happening to someone else and he was just watching. O'Hare strutted along in the lead. Hammett and a pair of marines came next, one marine a bit ahead and one a bit behind to allow for the narrowness of the catwalk. Hammett walked between them, his body half-turned, a pair of iron hands gripping each arm. Two more marines followed, with an EDF man bringing up the rear.

  Holmes, apparently, was remaining on the bridge of his new command.

  After an endless time they reached the forward end of the catwalk. And everything changed.

  Another staircase descended from the catwalk at the nose of the ship. As O'Hare reached the top of the stairs, figures in vac suits poured up the steps. Boots clattered urgently on the catwalk behind Hammett, and he turned to see more colonists running from the direction of the bridge. Every man and woman held a pistol.

  O'Hare said "What-", then went silent as Ron pushed past him. The little colonist shoved a pistol under the chin of the marine holding Hammett's left arm. The man on the right let go of Hammett, started to unsling his rifle, then froze as several pistols covered him.

  Hammett turned. One of the marines behind him was pointing his rifle down the catwalk at the colonists approaching from that direction. The other marine took aim at Ron's head. Hammett wrapped a hand around the barrel of the man's laser rifle and pushed upward. The marine locked eyes with him. He was well into his thirties, with hints of gray in his blond hair. By the look on his face he'd never seen combat. He looked frightened, but determined.

  Hammett said, "Stand down."

  The man's lips curled in a snarl.

  "I served with a lot of good men and women in the old Marine Corps," Hammett said. He pitched his voice so all four marines would have no trouble hearing. "It was a sad day when the corps was disba
nded. They served for decades, and they never disgraced their uniforms. Not once."

  The marine said, "Let go of my weapon, Sir." He let go of the laser rifle with one hand, putting the other hand on the butt of his sidearm. "I won't tell you again."

  Behind him, half a dozen colonists stood face to face with the last marine. That marine had his rifle trained on a man's chest, and six pistols pointing at his face.

  "The new Marine Corps is brand new," Hammett said. "It has a spotless reputation so far."

  The blond marine drew his sidearm, a bulky laser pistol. He levelled the weapon, the muzzle a handspan from Hammett's ribs.

  "You're about to set the tone of the new Marine Corps for years to come," Hammett said. "You could fire the first shots ever fired outside of training. Will you kill a Spacecom officer?"

  "I will if you don't let go of my weapon."

  "If I let go," Hammett said, "what happens next? You'll escalate this situation. Marines will fire on civilians."

  "Armed civilians," the marine said.

  "Civilians," Hammett repeated. "Human beings who just fought a successful battle against the Hive. Is that what you want to see? Marines killing the only people who are actually fighting the Hive?" He jerked his head. "Look around you! Does this look like a Navy ship? You've pushed your way onto a civilian vessel. Of course they're resisting!"

  The marine stared at him, eyes hard and uncompromising.

  Hammett took a deep breath. His arm, held above his head, was starting to cramp. If his hand started shaking he was going to lose a lot of credibility. "Give me a chance to talk to these people. To negotiate a truce. After all, we're all on the same side."

  The marine blinked, but the laser pistol didn't move.

  "You don't have to kill anyone today," Hammett said. "There's no disgrace in giving your allies a chance to talk before you kill them."

  The marine's gaze flicked to O'Hare. Hammett could just make out the EDF colonel in the corner of his eye. A colonist had him shoved against a bulkhead, the barrel of a pistol mashed against his cheekbone. He was white-faced and silent.