by B. V. Larson
“Tap it directly to my implant.”
There was no point in taking a message on the screens now. It was impossible to converse normally. Vomit rolled on the decks and crawled up the walls. A few of the command crew had already passed out, and I knew more would follow.
Closing my eyes, I answered my implant and displayed the transmission in my head.
They appeared. They were not human—at least, not entirely. A trio of Stroj seemingly stood before me in my field of vision. They were disembodied, overwritten upon my retina.
My eyes snapped open, and they stood in a tight group before me. They all stared at me—as if they were just as uncertain of what they were looking at as I was.
“Well met,” I said. “I take it you’re from the ship I’m engaged with right now?”
“We command Nostromo,” said the one on the left.
“Nostromo…” I said thoughtfully. “Which of you is the captain?”
“We share that duty. You are the captain of the Beta ship?”
“I am.”
“You are a Basic?”
“That would seem self-evident.”
They turned toward one another, exchanging glances.
“It’s not permitted for Earth to have a ship such as this,” the one on the right said.
I shifted my eyes toward him—or was it her? Yes… vestigial flaps for breasts gave it away. She’d evidently grafted the limbs of another, larger male onto her person—blending them with the features of her original form.
“Why can’t we have such a ship?” I asked. I cared little for their restrictions, but I was curious about them.
“Beta ships are difficult to destroy. It’s outside our thought-boundaries that you should be flying such a vessel.”
“Well, I am. What are you going to do about it?”
“Destroy you, of course.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. Talking to the Stroj was almost always a thankless chore.
“Is that why you’re calling?” I asked. “To inform me of my scheduled demise? In that case, I have a ship to attend to, and I need to get back to the battle.”
“This action is not a battle,” the one on the left corrected me. “It is an execution. A correction of an error.”
I began to get it then. These three didn’t have organic brains. They were all linked—I could see the tubes interconnecting them now. They’d formed some kind of a joint command by plugging their artificial minds together. Under different circumstances, I might have found them fascinating.
“Is that all you wish to say?” I prompted.
“No. We desire information.”
“What information?”
“Where is the creature known as Lorn? What did he tell you of our mission?”
Apparently, they’d detected the pinnace we’d left behind in hyperspace, but they weren’t sure who was aboard. I hesitated before responding. Lorn, for all his faults, had kept up his end of every bargain we’d struck. He’d shown us how to exit the Stroj system. He’d brought us a code-key to do it as well. Unlike these machine-minded Stroj, he had a more or less human brain.
“I refuse to answer,” I said.
“You’re protecting a Stroj?” asked the one on the right—the female. “That’s most unusual.”
“It’s as I expected,” said the one in the middle, the only one who hadn’t spoken up until now. He was taller and thinner than the other two. His connecting tubes ran to both of the other Stroj, which gave me the impression he was the leader of the trio.
“Lorn is a traitor,” he said to his co-captains. “He’s in league with these Basics, no matter what they say.”
“Gentlemen—and Lady,” I said. “I’m afraid I have to disconnect now. Unless you want to offer terms under which we both ceasefire…?”
They seemed grimly amused by the concept.
“Well then,” I continued, “I need to get back to my duties.”
“Wait,” said the tall one in the middle. “You are that which is known as Sparhawk?”
“Yes, I am.”
“We look forward to consuming your flesh. We’ve each pre-chosen a portion of your body to subsume. We would greatly prefer it if you eject from your ship now, so that your corpse won’t be too badly damaged.”
They all looked at me hungrily for a moment, and I disconnected without answering. Suppressing a shudder, I noticed that the impacts on our hull had subsided during my conversation with the enemy.
“Status?” I demanded.
“They’ve broken off,” Durris said, “it’s most peculiar.”
“No it isn’t,” Rumbold objected. “My evasions made their task hopeless. They know they can’t catch us, so they’re retreating.”
My hopes dared to soar. Could they be so anxious to capture me intact that they would break off the attack?
“You’re wrong,” Zye said to Rumbold.
We all looked at her.
“Stroj are creatures that abhor inefficiency,” she said. “They’ve decided to take the easy route to our destruction.”
“And what’s that?” Durris asked.
“To head for Earth again, of course. Now that their projection tricks failed to get them in close enough to destroy us, they’ve gone back to their original plan.”
“Which is?” Rumbold demanded.
“They’ll fly directly to Earth and begin bombing,” I answered before Zye could. Her logic was perfectly clear to me now. “They know we’ll have to fight them to save Earth. We won’t keep running if they begin to exterminate our population. Why chase us? All they have to do is head to Earth, knowing we’ll intercept.”
The rest of my crew looked glum as they pondered the undeniable truth of what Zye and I were saying.
There were many hours to fly as we turned back to our previous course. The Stroj ship was no longer displaced. We stayed out of range, shadowing her.
During the next thirty or so hours, we received many queries from CENTCOM. They were beginning to panic back on Earth.
“Sparhawk,” Halsey told me grimly when we were beginning our final approach. “We’ve reviewed your logs, and the vids from your recent engagement with this enemy. I’ll have to admit, I can’t see where you could have done something different that would have been effective. Yes, you brought them to Earth—but they were clearly planning to attack anyway. Your discovery destroyed their invasion army and forced their hand. I can’t see that as anything other than a job well done.”
He looked extra tired in this latest recording. Almost beaten. His fingertips lingered at his right temple, rubbing the spot repeatedly.
“Despite your actions, this is going to be very difficult,” he continued. “We’ve got ships, but they’re untested. None of them can take the kind of beating that your ship has already received. They’re more than destroyers, they’re light cruisers. But compared to your battle cruiser, they’re like tin cans.”
I didn’t reply. We were still too far out for interactive conversations. We’d just passed the orbit of Mars, and given its relative position to Earth, that delayed our transmissions by about nine minutes.
“The only thing that makes sense to us is to hit them with everything we’ve got, in close, and all at once. Your ship will have to be here, of course. Plan on rendezvousing with the rest of Star Guard at 0500 hours, GMT zero. We’ll strike just as they get within range of Fort Luna.”
Making a crisp response acknowledging the orders, I wished Halsey well and sent the message. After that I informed my crew about the battle plan, and most of them seemed pleased.
“About time we got a little credit,” Durris said, smiling. “I was worried they’d shoot the messenger on this one. But they’ve got to know that the Stroj were always a threat, and the fact we discovered them early before they were ready has screwed up their plans. We couldn’t have done any better in our service of Earth.”
“No, probably not,” I agreed.
Rumbold was the only one who didn’t seem please
d.
“Their tone,” he said, “I don’t like it. They think we’re doomed, don’t they Captain?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“No, of course not... Do you want me at the helm for this action, sir?”
I looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded. “You’ve done pretty well up until now, old man.”
“Thank you sir,” he said, and he manned his station proudly. He was the only oldster on the command deck—unless you counted the frequent visits by my aunt—and he was visibly proud of his service.
I chanced to look at the battle-clock then, and my smile faded.
We had less than two hours to go before we’d again come within range of those punishing guns.
-52-
On every screen, Defiant’s course converged with the enemy warship. I tried to not squint as the Stroj dreadnought loomed, but it was difficult. We’d been abused by this ship. We knew what it could do, and that made it all the harder to pretend that this time would be different. That this time, we would defeat Nostromo.
“Star Guard’s destroyers have formed up behind us, Captain,” Zye said. “The cruisers are a little slower, they’re leaving Earth orbit now.”
“How long until the formation is complete?” I asked.
“Seventeen minutes. There will be a few more of the smaller vessels adding to the task force after that, but nothing of any significant size.”
I eyed the tactical holo-maps. Many tiny ships, represented by a few pixels in some cases, struggled to come together in our wake. They looked like a school of small fish following their leader.
On the far side of the display loomed the monster that we must defeat. The dreadnought dwarfed everything Earth had.
“Give me the full battle roster we’re expecting to have at the moment of contact, Durris,” I ordered.
“Nine destroyers. Six of the new Orca-class cruisers. Twenty-six patrol boats and several hundred smaller craft, mostly fighters and pinnaces associated with the larger vessels.”
“That sounds like one battle cruiser—meaning us—and fifteen small support ships. The rest of them are mere distractions.”
“Well,” Durris said, not bothering to argue the point, “maybe the small-fry will do their job and distract the enemy.”
“You mean absorb some of their fire? I doubt the trio that commands Nostromo will be taken off-track that easily. They know that we’re the real threat. They’ll go right for us and do whatever it takes to knock us out.”
Durris frowned thoughtfully. I could see he had something on his mind, but I didn’t pry. I let him stew for another two minutes until he finally came up to my command chair and addressed me quietly.
“Maybe there’s a plan in what you just said, Captain.”
“How so?”
“What if we fell back? What if we forced them to either engage our smaller vessels, or plow through them to get to us?”
The idea was intriguing, but I shook my head. “I doubt it would work. Nostromo would simply slow down as well, taking their time about destroying everything we threw at them. Once they were finished, they’d lunge forward and finish us. They might be scarred at that point, but I wouldn’t bet on it. The truth is that without our heavy armor taking the hits, most of these ships won’t survive long.”
“Yes, Captain,” he said glumly.
“Besides,” I continued, “CENTCOM would never go for the idea. They’ve laid out their battle plans, and they expect me to follow them.”
He nodded and turned to go. “Just a thought,” he said, and returned to his station.
His words haunted my mind as the battle grew closer to being a reality.
Halsey contacted me with less than three minutes until go-time.
“Captain Sparhawk,” he said, standing at attention.
“Admiral Halsey.”
“I don’t need to tell you that this battle is one we can’t afford to lose. You’re to destroy the enemy ship anyway you can—even if that means the destruction of your own vessel.”
“Understood, Admiral.”
Halsey nodded. “I know you’re a clever and resourceful leader. I wouldn’t have put you in that ship if I thought differently. When the engagement starts, you’re going to be in independent command as far as tactical decisions go. We can’t second guess your every move from a half-dozen light-seconds away.”
“I understand sir, I won’t let Earth down.”
“See that you don’t. Good luck. Halsey out.”
And that was it. They’d given us a battle plan, but it was somewhat vague on the details. We were to lead with Defiant up front to take the first punishing blows. The rest of the smaller ships were to sweep around, englobing Nostromo. When and where her shields buckled, everyone in range was to pile-on, driving the stake into her heart.
Flocks of missiles were already sailing toward the battle zone. They’d been launched hours earlier. They would strike shortly after our ships were locked in combat.
In the computer simulations, the battle plan seemed reasonable. In fact, there didn’t seem to be much else we could do, given the circumstances.
What I didn’t like was how predictable it all was. The trio of captains had to know what was coming. Despite this, they were rolling up toward us as if they didn’t have a care in world.
The first salvo was launched even as this thought occurred to me—but it wasn’t ours.
“Nostromo is firing, Captain,” Yamada said.
“Did she miss us?”
“No sir—she just nailed one of the cruisers.”
My eyes slid over the screens. There… a collection of bright green pixels were drifting apart, like scattering jewels. The Stroj warship had made her first kill.
“Halsey’s right! They are built like tin cans!” Rumbold crowed unhelpfully.
“Increase speed by ten percent,” I ordered. “Zye, get a lock on that ship as soon as you can.”
“We have a lock, but we’re still out of effective range.”
“Nostromo is firing again, sir,” Yamada said, “…another hit. A destroyer this time. The Karachi is gone.”
“Damn it,” I said under my breath. “Where are those missiles?”
“Two minutes out.”
“They’ll have destroyed all of our cruisers by then.”
We watched as the battle continued to unfold. Our ships were racing forward now, throwing out all pretense of maintaining a tight formation. It looked like pandemonium, but at least no one was running. Our captains had never faced anything like this kind of firepower before.
“She’s firing again—a partial miss.”
Tapping as fast as I could, I brought up the Star Guard Cruiser El Salvador on my screen. She’d been grazed. Her forward shields were down, and the ship was venting badly—but she was still in the fight, still advancing.
“Contact El Salvador’s captain,” I told Yamada. “Suggest they should break off and fall to the rear.”
“Yes sir,” Yamada said, working her boards.
Before she could finish the message, however, Nostromo reached out again and finished the job she’d started. El Salvador was nothing but burning, spinning fragments.
“Are we in range yet?” I demanded. “Fire the moment we cross the boundary.”
“Eleven seconds,” Zye said. “Ten… nine…”
The countdown seemed unending, but at last our big guns discharged. We waited a few seconds, then our forward optics registered the results.
“A hit! Forward bow, target’s shields knocked to eighteen percent.”
I looked at Yamada incredulously. “Her shields are still up?”
“Yes. They must have transferred all their power to their forward shields. Their engines have cut out, and they’re gliding forward on momentum.”
“Shields and weapons. She’s not giving any of her other systems any power. She means to destroy us all.”
No one spoke. The evidence was clear.
“Recycle to green
,” I ordered, “and hit her again, same spot.”
“Guns programmed, sir,” Zye acknowledged.
“None of the other ships are in range yet, are they?” Rumbold asked. “They’re like sitting ducks.”
To illustrate his point, another of the cruisers was smashed. This time, the ship went into a flat spin. She dropped out of formation, crippled. Unlike the El Salvador’s commander, when she got control of herself again, she limped toward the rear of the formation as quickly as she was able.
We fired again, and this time the crew whooped.
“Shield penetration confirmed,” Yamada said. “At least fifty-percent of that one got through.”
“Any serious damage?”
“The hull stopped it. But I think we might have taken out a bank of secondary guns.”
“Mark that and transmit the intel to the fleet. We might be able to get through there, it’s a weak point.”
Again, the big ship lit up and her beams stabbed out. I kept expecting—hoping—that Nostromo would turn on us. We could take these shots where our comrades couldn’t.
Hissing through my teeth, I watched as the volley caught the retreating, crippled cruiser and scattered her atoms. There was nothing left.
“As clean a kill as you like,” Rumbold said sadly. “Core breach—at least it was quick.”
“Why won’t she fire on us?” I demanded.
“She knows we’ll be hard to beat down,” Durris answered. “She’s knocking out all our support ships while they’re bunched up. That’s easier than chasing them all over the star system later.”
I looked at him. “It was a rhetorical question, First Officer.”
“Sorry sir.”
The cruisers were in range at last. They began firing back. At about the same time, the missiles from Luna came onto our near-range scanners. They were moving in at an angle on Nostromo’s port side.
For the first time, the big ship seemed to take notice of something besides its next hapless victim. She rolled to present her belly-shield to the incoming missiles.
“Hold fire!” I shouted the moment she did so.