Cybership

by Vaughn Heppner

  Soon, side-jets rotated the alien missile, repositioning its nosecone. Finally, the massive missile pointed at the distant task force.

  “The task force must have run out of prismatic crystals,” Gloria said. “Otherwise, the rear admiral would have built a second P-Field.”

  Jon rubbed his eyes, trying to rub the tiredness out of them. He leaned forward, waiting for the final showdown.

  Just like before, the alien warhead unfolded like some sort of bizarre tech flower. The attacking SLN missiles were far from their normal blast zones, but they weren’t going to get any closer now.

  “The warheads should already have exploded,” Gloria said. “Da Vinci, are the aliens jamming the missiles?”

  The Neptunian studied his board. “I don’t detect any jamming.”

  “Why don’t—”

  The alien missile began to glow with energy, causing Gloria to choke on her words.

  At that point, one of the warheads exploded with a thermonuclear blast. An EMP shockwave went out from the whiteness. Gamma and X-rays blew outward. In the depths of space, the heat wasn’t as critical in damaging properties as it would have been inside an atmosphere.

  The alien missile continued to glow. Surely, it had built up enough to beam. Why hadn’t it beamed yet? All at once, the device began to disintegrate as the others had done after firing.

  Jon and Gloria traded startled glances. Jon shouted in glee, pumping a fist into the air. Gloria shrieked with happiness.

  “The rear admiral did it,” Gloria shouted. “She destroyed the missile.”

  “She kept it from functioning, in any case,” Jon said.

  “Now what happens?” Gloria asked. “We actually won a round against the aliens.”

  That, Jon decided, is an excellent question.

  -10-

  Before they had made any decisions regarding the Brezhnev’s actions, the three dinosaurs returned.

  Jon had taken another cat nap. The rear admiral and her task force still maintained their heading toward Neptune. It seemed like a logical choice for them, because that allowed the five warships the use of the P-Field. Once the ships maneuvered away from the field, they would be naked to any alien weaponry.

  “Sir,” the biggest guard said from the hatch. “Sir!” he repeated, more insistently.

  Jon looked up groggily.

  “The sergeants are coming, sir,” the guard said.

  It took Jon a second to realize what the soldier meant. “Oh,” he said, floating to his feet. He thought fast, deciding he didn’t want Da Vinci or Gloria around for this.

  “You two need a break,” Jon said. “In fact,” he told the other two techs. “All of you take a break. Make it an hour before you return.”

  He didn’t need to tell the techs twice. They hurried from the auxiliary station. Gloria proved more stubborn. She eyed him without moving.

  “Please,” Jon said.

  Gloria gave him a wan smile. “Remember one thing,” she said.

  He waited.

  “You’re mentally tougher than the first sergeant. Trust your own insights over any of theirs.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” he said.

  “Don’t humor me by saying that,” she said. “Act upon this truth.”

  He nodded.

  Gloria launched for the exit, barely leaving in time. Da Vinci had already slipped away with the other techs.

  Thirty seconds later, the biggest guard said from the hatch, “Sir, the sergeants request some of your time.”

  “None of that,” Sergeant Stark growled from outside. “I’m seeing the little—”

  The bigger guard maneuvered before the entrance. The other guard seemed to take heart and did likewise. Their actions startled the first sergeant, interrupting his speech.

  “What is this?” Stark finally asked in a menacing tone. “Are you two trying to stop me?”

  “First Sergeant,” the Centurion said. “They’re—”

  Stark whirled around in surprise. “This is your doing?”

  The small Centurion paused for a half-beat before admitting it was.

  “Gentleman,” Jon called from within the chamber. “Please, enter. I’ve been expecting you.”

  He hadn’t been expecting them, but it was something the colonel would have told them.

  The two guards drifted away from the entrance. The sergeants floated into the chamber. As they did, Jon noticed a light on a panel. Curious, he floated to the panel. A few taps on the board showed him it was another message from the rear admiral.

  “You’re just in time,” Jon said. “This is the SLN task-force commander reporting. She’s making a broad-beam call, so this isn’t directed at us specifically.”

  “What are you talking about?” Stark demanded.

  “If you’ll listen, Sergeant, it will all become clear.”

  Stark uttered a profanity at him. The rear admiral’s appearance on the main screen stilled whatever else Stark might have added.

  “This is Rear Admiral Grenada of the Battleship Cho En Li. We…we have survived a harrowing encounter with the aliens. For the record, all my science officers agree that we have indeed faced a life form born in a different star system, in a vessel constructed somewhere in the stellar depths. That makes this an extraterrestrial invasion into our Solar System. There can no longer be any doubt about that.”

  The rear admiral stared into the distance as if caught up in the terrible truth of what she’d said. Aliens. Humanity faced aliens, beings from another star system, creatures with a foreign code of conduct.

  The rear admiral collected herself, focusing again. “My task force is heading for a Neptune orbit. We have received… We have received signals from other survivors. We believe these survivors slipped onto the other side of the planet in relation to the alien vessel. Given the extreme superiority of said vessel, they made a wise choice.

  “Let me explain,” the rear admiral said, launching into a detailed dissertation regarding the alien missile assault, the one Jon and Gloria had witnessed.

  “Interestingly,” Rear Admiral Grenada said in conclusion, “our P-Field blocked their energy weapon. The weapon can cause premature nuclear chain-reactions in our warheads. The majority of my science officers believe the beam operates on similar principles to the original alien attack against our computers.”

  The rear admiral grew earnest. “Humanity faces a clever and ruthless foe. However, the fact that the task force survived this latest attack shows we can face them. We must—”

  Grenada turned to the right as if listening to someone speaking to her. She already appeared haggard. As she listened, the lines deepened in her face. Her shoulders grew more hunched. Slowly, she regarded the screen again.

  “There is a new development,” Grenada said wearily. “The aliens—” She sighed deeply. “Many of our defeated ships and some NSN vessels are headed to a rendezvous point. That point appears to be the moon Triton. My communications officer has attempted to communicate with these vessels for some time. She has failed in each case. The science officers have just concluded that the ships themselves are headed to Triton. What they mean is that those vessels appear to be under the aliens’ control. For whatever reason, the aliens wish our former ships to rendezvous at Triton, which is where the alien vessel is also headed. Do the aliens plan to reprogram the computer-captured ships? Will they use those vessels against the rest of humanity?”

  The rear admiral stared out of the screen. She seemed to drift inward, into her thoughts. That dissipated quickly as her features hardened again.

  “I am of two minds,” Grenada said. “Should my task force head to Triton? Maybe we can destroy the formerly human-controlled warships. As a military officer sworn to defend the Solar League, I dare not let the aliens use our own ships against us. Some of my officers vehemently disagree with that. They argue that we have an obligation to survive the alien encounter. We must warn humanity. We must do so by getting far enough away from the alien ship t
o transmit a message to the other planetary systems.”

  Her hardness and certainty softened as she shook her head. “I do not know the correct course to take. I admit I want to live. Thus, the protesting officers sway me to the latter option. Yet, in my heart, I know we must hurt the aliens as best we can and as soon as we can. That means reaching the rendezvous point with enough missiles to destroy everything.”

  The rear admiral paused before adding, “I would like to point out—”

  She vanished from the main screen. Her voice quit in mid-sentence. A harsh sound emitted from the speakers as the screen became fuzzy.

  It was several heartbeats before anyone spoke.

  “The rear admiral belongs to the Solar League?” asked Stark.

  Jon nodded solemnly.

  Stark started to speak again, but stopped.

  The harsh jamming quit, bringing a strange silence to the chamber. The fuzziness faded away as a new person appeared on the main screen. It was a shocking sight.

  A man regarded them. At least, he appeared to have once been a man. He wore an NSN jacket with braid. He had long white hair in the Neptunian upper-caste style, combed to the left. His eyes seemed vacant, with far too much white showing around them. His mouth was slack, with drool spilling from it.

  A metal frame circled his head, with thin rods seemingly screwed into his scalp, his cheeks and jaws. There were eight rods altogether, and they imprisoned his head within the metal frame. Wires led from the circular frame, leading to machines, computers possibly.

  “What is that?” the Old Man asked in horror.

  Several more seconds passed. A few of the wires jumped as if electricity surged through them. It caused the older man’s face to twitch, his body to contort. The eyes became wider still, staring until something unholy seemed to focus out of them, something decidedly inhuman. The mouth firmed and actually curved into a sinister smile.

  “I am…” The inhuman man paused as if considering his word choices. “I am the spokesman for the Order. I am the creature who speaks reality, certainty. Your thoughts as a species are chaotic, often meaningless. The Order has arrived to change everything. Submit. Otherwise, you risk harming useful material. To encourage proper action, I will explain the penalty for continued resistance.”

  The wires jumped again. The rod-imprisoned face twitched with seeming pain. He opened his mouth as if he would utter something profound. Instead, he issued a croak of pain.

  “You are a dull species,” the inhuman spokesman finally said. “Further review has caused the Order to alter the lesson. You are emotional creatures rather than rational beings. Thus, the Order will give an emotive demonstration. If you fail to submit, this will be your fate compounded one hundred times.”

  For a flickering instance, the Neptunian’s eyes became normal again. He glanced to the left and to the right. He brought up an old hand, touching the rods screwed into his face, feeling the metal frame circling his head.

  The wires jumped once more.

  The eyes became stark. The mouth stiffened in agony. Then, a soul-wrenching sound tore from the obvious captive. The man screamed and screamed as smoke curled from each embedded rod. He screamed until blood leaked from his eyes and he—

  Jon slapped the control panel, shutting down the main screen.

  “What—” First Sergeant Stark ran a hand across his face. “What was that?”

  “The aliens obviously used a captured Neptunian,” Jon said. “They hooked him to a machine. Maybe that was the quickest way they could communicate with us, using the man’s mind to do the translating.”

  “What?” Stark asked.

  “They used the man’s brain somehow, or so I imagine.”

  “That’s wicked,” Stark said. “The aliens are evil.”

  The Old Man was pale. With a trembling hand, he took out his pipe. It took several tries before he lit it and puffed as if trying to erase the sight from his memories.

  After the sixth puff, the Old Man removed the pipe and asked Jon, “What do we do now?”

  “What now?” Stark shouted. “What now? Who cares what the pup thinks? I’ll tell you what we have to do. I’ll tell you…” His words drifted away.

  Something grim had been hardening in Jon since the alien transmission. The demonstration terrified and sickened him. The thought of ending his life like that, with rods screwed into his head… Who were these aliens? Their attack earlier had caused the colonel’s death. Now, to do this to a captured Neptunian in an effort to demoralize the remaining humans—

  “What’s your plan?” Jon coldly asked Stark.

  “What?” the first sergeant said.

  “I asked you what your plan is,” Jon said. The grimness in him seemed to expand. He loathed the aliens, and in his loathing, he yearned to destroy them root and branch, to exterminate them. Some of that hatred now seemed to be boiling out against Stark.

  “You’re quick to denounce me,” Jon told the first sergeant. “Me, your commanding officer and superior.”

  “You’re not my superior.”

  “What’s your plan, First Sergeant? Enlighten us with your wisdom.”

  Stark hunched his shoulders, glowering dangerously.

  With a cold clarity, Jon realized this was the moment. The alien lesson had driven that home with bitter certainty. Either he was going to lead the regiment or…he would die right here and now. The clarity of the thought strengthened his resolve. It seemed as if something in his mind had opened for the first time. He could see what needed to be done now.

  He focused on Sergeant Stark. It was time to nip this rebellion. It was time to temper what was left of the regiment and turn it into weaponized steel.

  “You voted under the rules of the Mercenary Code,” Jon said with preternatural calmness. “By voting, you accepted the outcome. You’re going to decide to follow me, or—”

  Jon drew his gun. A last vestige of the officer-cadet Jon Hawkins caused him to hesitate before aiming the weapon at Stark.

  “What are you going to do, shoot me?” Stark sneered.

  With deliberation, realizing the sergeant needed a few seconds to reason it out, Jon let go of the gun so it floated in the air.

  “Here’s the situation,” Jon said. “An alien ship is out there. That ship has killed almost everyone in the Neptune System. And you saw what it did to that man. He was most likely a senior officer of the NSN.” Jon stared at Stark. “I’m going to defeat the aliens.”

  “You?” Stark shouted.

  “This is the fight,” Jon said, “aliens versus humans. I’m glad you saw that. I’m glad you three are here. We have to decide on our strategy, and it’s better if we do it now. We have to…” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “If we’re going to destroy them, the regiment must have unity of command.”

  The opening of his mind had also given him new steel in his soul. He spoke with conviction, vitally aware of the gun floating nearby.

  Jon focused on Stark. “If you continue to foment rebellion against my authority, I’ll execute you as is my right under the articles of the Mercenary Code.”

  Something in Jon’s gaze kept the first sergeant from retorting. It almost seemed as if Jon’s eyes became too bright or too hot. Stark looked down.

  “The cadet’s stronger than we thought,” the Centurion said. “The colonel must have seen that in him.”

  Stark glanced at the Old Man.

  “Thank God we have a commander with fire in his belly,” the Old Man said. “After seeing that—” He glanced at the blank screen before regarding Stark again. “I can almost feel the heat radiating from him.”

  Stark blinked several times and looked at Jon anew. The big man scratched his head, seeming like a brute gorilla doing it. “D-do you have a plan?” the first sergeant asked in a bemused tone.

  Jon didn’t have one before Stark asked. In that moment, though, an idea blossomed into being.

  “I do,” Jon said matter-of-factly.

  Stark stared at him a moment lon
ger. He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know what to do. That-that was awful. The men are already scared. Once they hear about that…”

  The big sergeant paused before he asked the Centurion, “Do you really trust the cadet?”

  “He was the colonel’s pick,” the professional said. “Besides, our backs are against the wall, and we’re facing an alien firing squad. Who else do we trust?”

  “Old Man?” asked Stark.

  “I already told you,” the Old Man said. “I can feel the greatness in him.”

  Stark nodded slowly before regarding Jon. It seemed the sergeant refused to acknowledge the blank screen, as if by doing so he wouldn’t have to think about what he’d just seen.

  “You’re right,” Stark said. “There can only be one commander. The colonel picked you—I don’t know why. I don’t see what the Old Man does. But the colonel knew soldiers better than any man alive.” A last flicker of belligerence flared. “Don’t let us down, Cadet. Don’t let the colonel down.”

  “Are you through?” Jon asked.

  “I’m through,” Stark said. “I’ll follow your orders.”

  Jon plucked the gun out of the air, holstering it.

  “I have a plan,” Jon told them. “I won’t lie to you: it’s a long shot if there ever was one. But it plays to our strengths. The only problem is that we have to get lucky to implement it.”

  “What’s the plan?” the Old Man asked.

  Jon stared at the tall sergeant. He had to settle this here and now.

  “Sir,” the Old Man added.

  Jon nodded, and he beckoned the three regimental dinosaurs closer to hear his idea.

  -11-

  “You got lucky,” Gloria told Jon later. “The sergeants need belief. They need to trust someone. Stark still hates you in his heart. But he needs something to hang onto in this nightmare situation.”

  Jon was only half listening. He hadn’t told Gloria about the alien transmission, the horrible threat hanging over them. The sergeants and he had agreed to keep the transmission quiet for now. The ordeal was bad enough without the men knowing that.