by Danny Loomis
Two Eagles had unlimbered his Mark IV and was scanning the surrounding buildings. “There, at 120 degrees. The building with the red lights on top. Three stories tall.”
“Yeah, got it.” Irish was also scanning with his rifle’s scope. “Looks to be a kilometer away.” He slung his rifle and ensured his ghillies were covering him before swinging over the edge onto the fire escape.
On the ground, Two Eagles uncovered one hand and led the way at a shuffle-trot towards their target. Being four hours until dawn, the streets were deserted except for the occasional Leg patrol. None made themselves evident during their short trip to the Public Safety and Security headquarters.
They circled the building, on the lookout for any detection systems. On the backside, Two Eagles motioned to the vehicle ramp heading to basement parking. “From what we were told, they bivouac security forces in there. That means when the next change of guard occurs, that gate should be raised. Simple way in, don’t you think?”
“Sounds good to me.” Irish moved against the left wall.
Soon their patience was rewarded when a small van came down the ramp. After a long hesitation, the metal gate raised and admitted the patrol, plus two unexpected guests. Once through the entryway, they slowed their movement. If moving too fast, a rippling effect would show to a sharp-eyed observer. At least fifty vehicles were parked in the garage, only half-filling it.
“Let’s get behind the third vehicle on the right,” whispered Two Eagles.
Irish crouched behind the vehicle, relaxing into a near-trance. He’d gotten too wound up prepping for this mission. It wasn’t the time to hurry, that could lead to mistakes. He reviewed the information they had so far about their targets. Four Legs, two of them officers and two senior NCOs. According to intel reports, NCOs were housed on the north side of the building in the basement. Officers had their quarters on the second floor, south side.
The gate rattled up, allowing the new patrol to exit. Two Eagles motioned with his visible hand and they followed after the returning soldiers just now disappearing through an entrance. Irish caught the door, holding it open a crack until the hallway beyond was empty. He and Two Eagles slipped in. The left side had an opening that led to the enlisted barracks, while on the right side of the hall were showers and bathrooms.
They froze in place when two men entered from the shower side, talking in hushed voices. Once gone, they continued their silent progress. A century later they reached a door with a sign on it: “NCO Quarters”. They passed through, and Irish checked the first door on the right. It was a pleasant surprise to see a name on it, including rank. This should make his job easier. Now to find them.
Seconds later his search was rewarded. He opened the door a crack. Hearing a quiet buzzing snore, he continued into the room. Two Eagles acted as security outside. He stared down at the indistinct form, an eagerness to make the animal die painfully and slowly. He took a calming breath. Now wasn’t the time to unleash the hate. Without fanfare he drove the point of his knife up under the ribs of Team Leader Horowitz and into his heart. His free hand went over the man’s mouth at the same time, keeping the entire operation to a near-silent level. Once his victim stopped convulsing he wiped blood off his knife and crept back out. He uncovered his head long enough to nod. They moved silently down the hall, looking for the next one.
When finished with the second NCO, they entered the stairwell and climbed to the second floor. Again, each door had the name of its occupant. Again Irish entered one of the rooms, and silently dispatched Captain Powell. The last name was at the end of the hall: Major Stilling. He was reaching for the handle when it swung open, hitting him in the shoulder with a thump. Irish staggered back, glancing into the face of a large muscular man in his underwear, looking wildly around.
“What the hell?” He backed into his room, and began shouting. “Guards, there’s an intruder!”
Irish unlimbered his knife and jumped forward, slashing across the man’s stomach. His victim’s shouts turned to whimpering screams, hands trying vainly to hold in his entrails. He fell to his knees, giving Irish an opportunity to drive the point of his knife into the back of his neck, severing the spinal cord.
A step into the hallway showed the macabre scene of two men falling to the floor, blood gushing from their throats. A hand appeared, pointing behind Irish. “Window. Out the window.”
The partially opened window at the end of the hall beckoned. Irish pushed it open, gave one glance and dove out headfirst, immediately followed by Two Eagles. Irish somersaulted in midair, rolling when his feet came into contact with the ground. Glad it had been grass rather than rocks under them.
Two Eagles, normally the most agile, landed with a thump and curse. “Damn! Getting clumsy in my old age.”
By now, both of them were partially visible since their ghillies had come half-off during their acrobatics. Shouts from above caused Irish to hurriedly pull his camouflage back into place and trot around the corner, Two Eagles close behind. “Think we’d better get out of here,” he whispered.
Three blocks from the scene, Two Eagles tapped Irish. “We’d better stop,” he said. “Think I’m bleeding.” They hunkered down between two trucks parked alongside a building while Irish checked him out.
He held up a cracked canteen, still leaking water. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you to land on your feet when you jump out a window, and not on your ass?” He helped him to his feet. “Can’t wait to tell the Fireplug Twins. They’ll never let you live it down.”
Two Eagles pulled back his ghillies, trying to look over a shoulder at his lower back. “You sure there’s no blood? It hurt like hell-what’s that?” He fingered a piece of sharp plastic stuck in his lower back just above the belt.
Irish plucked it out, causing Two Eagles to wince. “Nothing. Now let’s get a move on.” He dropped the offending shard in Two Eagles’ hand.
It was early morning when they made it back to the top of the building they’d started from. A flickering in the air to their south heralded the approach of the shuttle Irish had called before they’d started back up the fire escape. By the time it was two hundred meters away, it had coalesced into a fuzzy outline. It touched down, lowering its ramp at the same time.
Two Eagles rushed inside, peeling off his fatigue pants as he went. “Still feels like something’s stuck in my ass,” he said, just as Sergeant Wells exited the flight deck. “What’s this about havin’ something stuck up your ass?”
Irish let loose with his first real laugh in several days. “Afraid so. He jumped out a window and landed on his canteen. Already took one piece of plastic out of his backside.”
Wells shook his head while hurrying off for a first aid kit. “Why don’t I get to go on cool missions like you guys? I’ll bet y’didn’t even get pictures.”
Two more pieces were removed before Wells bandaged the injured area. “Okay, that’ll hold you till we get back to the office.” He turned when Irish walked back down the ramp. “Where you going, boss?”
“I think we’ll wait around and see what kind of response shows up at the target area. In the meantime, button up.” He walked over to the building’s edge and kneeled behind the meter-high wall. In less than a minute he’d prepped his Mark IV. Sighting through the scope, he picked out several vehicles already in the process of arriving in front of the building they’d recently invaded. So far, no officers. He settled down to wait.
His patience paid off half an hour later. Three vehicles pulled to the curb in front of the Security Headquarters, and those in the first vehicle hastened to open the rear door of the second. A large overweight man dressed in a resplendent uniform was helped out.
“Lower the ramp,” he whispered, squeezing the trigger. Keeping his scope on the first target, he waited until it was down before firing at two other targets.
“Raise the ramp,” he said in a normal voice while he trotted into the shuttle. “Who’s in the pilot’s seat?” he asked, pe
eling off his ghillies.
“Nolan,” Two Eagles said.
Irish quickly stored his gear and strapped in. “Nolan, lift ‘er up slow and easy, then head due south while gradually climbing to a thousand meters.”
“Wilco. Move south, climb to a thousand meters altitude.”
Irish watched the monitors at their seats when they lifted away from the building’s top and drifted towards a distant treeline. “Hey, Two Eagles. Thanks for going on the mission with me. I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got the perfect thing. Next chance we get you’re taking me to the Officer’s Club. I need to rub some alcohol on my ass. From the inside out, this time.”
* * *
The corvette drifted down and came to rest next to them on the small asteroid. There was barely enough room for both on the flat side of it. Willy touched a switch on his comm. “Looking good from here, Merkus.”
“Thank you, Erebus. And thank you for agreeing to do our next mapping job. Shutting down.”
“You all set, Willy?” Irish asked.
“That I am. Might take awhile, since it’s four bolts that need replacing on their ramp seal. If I need any extra tools I’ll let you know before you lift.” He paused before leaving the flight deck. “Besides, This’ll be fun compared to what you’ll be doing.”
After he’d gone, Shag chuckled. “Can’t kid me. I think the main reason he was in such a lather to get over there and help was because their commo technician has such a sexy voice.”
“Right, and mapping the coordinates of a wild nexus doesn’t hold a candle to that,” Irish said. “You ever done this before?”
“A couple times,” Shag said. “All we got to do is park our rig in front of it for six hours and not only record its exact position, but measure any drift that occurs. Super boring, long as you don’t get a death wish and fly into it.”
“I’d only heard stories concerning these in the past, about not mistaking a normal one with it, because if you went through this kind of nexus you’d disappear.”
“That’s right. I did some research on them a few years back. The wave lengths around ‘em are really different, which makes one easy to identify.”
Irish shook his head. “About the time I think I know a lot about space, something like this reminds me how much I’ve still got to learn.”
The comm chirped. “Erebus, Willy says he’s all set. Should take him four days for the repairs. The Captain also said yes you can borrow two EMP missiles. Pick them up when you come back.”
“Roger, Merkus. See you in four days,” Shag said. He glanced at Irish. “All set, Skipper. You c’n lift it anytime you want.”
Traveling at four gravs it was still twelve hours before they approached the anomaly. Shag eased them to within 50,000 kilometers of the wild nexus before leaning back. “All yours, Skipper. Just keep ‘er locked on this setting for the next six hours. I’ve got to get some shuteye.”
“I’ve got it,” Irish said. “Try not to snore too loud, will you? It might keep me awake.”
Shag barked a laugh. “Man, you’re getting bad as Willy with the terrible jokes.”
Irish shuddered theatrically. “God save us all.”
Once Shag was gone he turned back to the screen, studying it more closely. A slow-moving dance of energy that looked like thin ropes wrapping around a central core and out again signaled the presence of a nexus. This one, however, looked much different. The ropes tended to twist into knots before dissipating and forming again. A normal nexus didn’t have the energy lines dissipate, instead they just kept gently waving. Soon his eyes became fixed while his conscious mind followed the twining and pulsing lines of energy down towards their center, their heart.
“Ian? Wake up, Ian.”
Irish started, eyes flying open. The figure of a woman with long blonde hair moving towards him sharpened, became–“Brita? Is that you?”
“Yes, love, it really is.” Her eyes searched his. “You’re still grieving. Please, don’t suffer so.”
He felt tears on his cheeks. “I-I miss you. Love you.”
She reached out, not quite touching his face. ‘No more grieving for me, Ian. I love you, but we must both move on now. You’ll never see me again. Begin a new life. One for yourself. Find another you can love as you did me. That would give me the greatest of pleasure.” She stroked his cheek. “Release your pain and grief, like it never was…”
“Hey, Skipper. You want some breakfast?”
Irish lurched fully awake. His screen-was that an image just now fading? He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, soon’s you relieve me.” He touched his chest, pulling his hand away in surprise at how hot the skin felt.
Shag stuck his head on the bridge. “It’s been over six hours, so you can just back it off a couple hundred thousand klicks and put the automatics on. Okay?”
“Okay,” Irish said, hands unconsciously taking care of business while his mind geared back up to speed. Minutes later he stood, thoughts finally clear from the fog of sleep. He looked back at the screen while leaving the bridge. Sleep? Or something else. He shook his head and moved on.
Once finished eating, Irish took his plate to the disposal unit. “By the way, since we’ve still got a couple days before we need to pick up Willy, Let’s give the shipbuilding docks another scout. Need a couple more pieces of information before we finish our plans concerning them.”
By the fourth day, Irish and Shag were both dragging when they landed next to the corvette.
“Damnit, that was too much like real work,” complained Shag. “You’d think we did more than crunch numbers and guide this tub around from the way I feel.”
“I agree,” Irish said, giving a huge stretch. “Let’s plan on taking a day off after we finish our prep for the docks, okay?”
* * *
“Slowly, take it slow.” Shag hovered over Willy while watching him probe the innards of the EMP missile’s warhead. The ten meter long missile was mounted on top of a rectangular box half its length.
Willy cast an impatient glance over his shoulder. “S’help me, if you don’t back off I’m gonna drop this probe and blow us all up.”
Irish glanced up from the screen where he’d been triple-checking trajectory angles. “You two lovebirds about ready over there?”
Willy closed the plate, sealing it before he stood. “Yeah, think so. Glad there were only four of these buggers to mess with.”
Shag patted the missile. “Me, I’m glad the corvette had a couple extra. Would’ve left us without any spares, otherwise.”
Irish waved both of them over to the table. “Shag, you said you’d have a way to deploy these by today. What’d you come up with?”
“We can fasten ‘em all down except the one we want to emplace. Put us on zero gravity, open the ramp’s door, and back up. The one not secured floats out, at zero speed.”
Irish looked around the bay. “In that case, let’s make sure we fasten everything down and get back upstairs. Tomorrow after breakfast we go.”
It took three days before they’d positioned each of the missiles behind a dock. Shag was able to keep them correctly oriented, due to the small gravitic engine inside each of the boxes attached to the missiles. Now it was a matter of waiting for the daily engine test to occur.
“You sure about the timin’ on this, Skip?” Willy asked.
“Jeez, man, you’ve only asked that same question three times,” Shag said. “And the answer’s the same. Once the battlecruiser fires off one of its engines, we give the missile a ten second burn.”
“Yeah, I know. And it’s only been twice I asked. Just nervous, I guess.”
Irish smiled in sympathy. “I agree, Willy. It’s tough just waiting. But trust me, when that battlecruiser’s engine fires up, it puts out a hefty amount of electrons. Just like hiding in a cloud for the missile. Sensors on the dock won’t be able to pick it up for several seconds. In this case, it covers up the fact som
ething’s barreling down on the backside of the ship.”
Shag checked the time displayed on the screen. “Okay, if things are normal, we should see all four ships doing their engine tests anytime now.”
“Ship number one just lit up,” Irish said, leaning forward. “Missile away.”
Seconds later Willy perked up. “Missile shutdown. Wup, there goes another engine test, number four this time.”
The fourth ship had just started its engine when the screen was suddenly filled with snow. “First missile has fired off its EMP,” Irish said.
Willy sat back back, startled. “Damn, didn’t think about us bein’ affected.”
“It’ll put out that pulse for thirty seconds,” Irish said. “Don’t expect a clear screen for the next two-three minutes, since the other three will do the same thing. All we can do is wait, now.”
Shag turned towards him. “In that case how about explaining what this’ll do to destroy those monsters. Seems like a small thing to blow them up.”
Irish shook his head. “Sorry, guys. I assumed you knew how the docks were powered after the main engines were mounted on their frames. They found it was cheaper to put a small fission reactor on them until finished with the construction.”
Willy looked startled. “A fission reactor? I didn’t think they used those anymore.”
‘Not needed on a planetary surface, not with fusion power. But for the length of time it takes to build these big ships, a fission reactor can supply the power much more cheaply than having a generator ship attach itself to the dock for all that time, if a solar collector’s not available.”
“I’d heard that fission power was done away with because it wasn’t very safe,” Shag said.
“They’re normally pretty safe to use this way. Not only because of all the extra fail-safes they put on them but because they use the engines for extra shielding. Under normal conditions, not much radiation gets past those hunks of metal.”
The screens had just started to clear when a blue glow surrounded the first dock. Irish pointed at the screen. “That pulse from the EMP missile overloaded every electrical system on the dock, to include the reactor’s fail-safes. Which means there’s going to be a low level explosion in a few seconds that’ll contaminate everything inside that ship with high-level radioactive crap.”