by Isaac Hooke
Struggling to see through the cracks spidering his faceplate, he opened up the cargo pocket in his leg, retrieved the necessary patch kit, and sealed the breach.
When he looked up from that work, he realized several dark mists had joined him in the courtyard, surrounding him. The large variants: enemy mechs, then. They towered over him, likely with weapons trained on him at that very moment.
He was starting to wish he hadn’t been so quick to throw the Raakarr corpse off of him.
I should have played dead.
He dropped the pistol and raised his hands in surrender.
The darkness generators faded.
Knights and Titans stood before him.
Rade exhaled in utter relief. He glanced at his overhead map. Sure enough, the units were all represented as blue dots.
My fault for not checking the map first.
He realized that not all of the mechs present were piloted by chiefs. He spotted Helium among the group. Either they’d fetched the generators from fallen chiefs, or downed Raakarr. But it couldn’t be the latter, since the MOTHs needed those custom sleeves to activate them.
Too many of us have fallen.
“Did the upload complete?” one of the chiefs asked.
“There were only a few seconds left.” Rade hurried to the crumpled device and picked it up. The darkness generator connected to it was useless, but he saw a red light inside the dented outer container of the PDD. Perhaps it was still active.
“Ours are still intact.” Another chief stepped forward, carrying his own bricklike PDD.
Rade held out a hand. “Hold. If you place yours, the process will start over. In theory mine will continue the upload from where it left off.”
“But yours is obviously damaged...”
“I’m seeing a red light inside it,” Rade said. “It might still work. Let me try at least.”
Rade walked to the access node and placed the device against it. The adhesive refused to stick, so he held it there with his glove and waited.
“Is what he says true, LC?” a chief asked. “Will the package continue the upload if its undamaged?”
“It will,” Pine’s voice confirmed a moment later.
“The light’s flashing,” Rade said. “Patch installation seems to be continuing.” Or rather, he hoped it was, rather than starting the process over again from scratch.
No doubt some internal alarm was being triggered once again. Sure enough:
“Incoming tangos,” someone said.
The Knights and Titans assumed a defensive formation on the far edge of the courtyard, toward the debris.
Five seconds passed. The light on the package turned green.
“LC,” Rade said. “Payload has been delivered.”
“Roger that,” the LC replied. “I’m informing the fleet as we speak. Well done, MOTHs. Proceed to boosters!”
Helium hurried toward Rade while the others provided cover. “Need a lift?”
“We have to save Pegasus’ computing core,” Rade said.
Helium piloted his Knight over to the fallen mech, ripped away a side panel, and retrieved the long, cylindrical AI core from within. He stowed it in the passenger seat.
“Happy?” Helium asked.
“Never happier.” Rade climbed aboard the passenger seat and buckled in beside the AI core.
Helium activated his purloined tartaan, enclosing Rade and the mech. The veil of darkness descended around him, pulsing between opaque and translucent as time slowed.
No doubt the fleet was in the process of launching the planet killer at that very moment. Once it was away, the MOTHs had roughly twenty minutes before the bomb actually detonated.
Rade glanced at the location of the booster rockets on his overhead map. As planned, the gear had dropped fairly close to the access node.
If the platoons didn’t encounter too much resistance, they might actually make it.
Assuming of course that the malicious code patch had actually worked, because if it hadn’t, and the alien defenses were still online, the MOTHs were in for a hell of a flight into orbit.
twenty-seven
Jonathan stared at the red mass of ships on his display. The Avengers and fighters from the Talon had staved off the first wave of enemy craft. But there was nothing to stop the incoming second wave. The literal swarm of alien fighters would make contact in roughly five minutes.
At which point the human fleet would cease to exist.
“Captain, we just received word that the MOTHs completed their mission,” Lazur said.
“Has the admiral been notified?” Jonathan asked.
“She has.”
“Ops, what does the Callaway’s CDC have to say?” Jonathan said. “Are the defenses really offline?”
“We haven’t detected any thermal spikes from the surface for the past minute,” Ensign Lewis replied. “And the particle beams have stopped firing. All sextants appear clear. The MOTHs must have succeeded.”
“It could be a ruse by the enemy,” Robert said. “To deceive us into launching the planet killer early.”
Jonathan nodded absently. “Could be. But the decision is the admiral’s to make. And I doubt it’s going to be an easy one.”
He certainly wouldn’t have wanted to be the one to give the order.
“Sir,” Ensign Lewis said. “The Dammerung just launched the planet killer.”
“So it’s done,” Jonathan said. “There’s no going back now.”
Because the planet killer wasn’t meant to pass into the core of a star, it utilized the traditional deployment mechanism first pioneered by the Sino-Koreans: when launched, the bomb and its decoys would descend to optimal deployment altitude, at which point the delivery vehicles—and more decoys—would separate, expanding across the upper atmosphere toward the equidistant points of an imaginary sphere in orbit.
When in place, the delivery vehicles would steer around any darkness generators or other obstacles to slam into the surface of the colony in rapid succession and then drill deep into the crust. As the DVs reached their optimal depth, timing modules activated, preventing detonation until the remaining warheads arrived at their preprogrammed positions.
When every warhead was properly situated beneath the crust of the target, the primers activated in unison, detonating the geronium cores simultaneously planet-wide, initiating a devastating explosion that ripped away the surface and essentially killed the world. Even if merely eighty percent of the warheads detonated, tearing off only a portion of the crust, the catastrophic changes to the geosphere would be enough to destroy any world.
Given the size of the current target, it would take approximately twenty minutes for all the delivery vehicles to attain detonation positions beneath the crust.
That meant the ten ships in orbit had to survive for at least that long if they hoped to escape.
“Main fleet,” Admiral Ford sent. “Recall and dock Avengers immediately. Then proceed to higher orbit in preparation for planet killer detonation.”
As he waited for the Callaway’s surviving Avengers to dock, he turned his attention to the ops station.
“Is the planet killer or its decoys recording any incoming anti-aircraft fire yet?” Jonathan asked.
“So far everything is quiet down there,” Lewis said. “The delivery vehicles have already deployed, and they’re spreading out in the upper atmosphere. I think the MOTHs really did succeed.”
We might actually win this after all, at least in terms of completing the mission.
Jonathan wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. And completing the mission was one thing, but surviving at the end? That was something else altogether.
“Are any of the fighters or other enemy ships attempting to intercept the delivery vehicles?” Jonathan asked.
“Negative,” Lewis replied. “All of their attention is on us. I’m not sure they’ve even realized we’ve launched the planet killer yet.”
The United Systems ships began breaking away
to a higher orbit as their respective Avengers finished docking.
“Eager to get out of orbit, aren’t they?” Robert said.
“It’s every man for himself at this point, Commander,” Jonathan said.
“Truly?” Robert said.
“It might as well be,” Jonathan replied.
“The last of the Callaway’s Avengers is aboard,” Miko announced.
“Helm, take us out,” Jonathan ordered.
The Talon was the last of them: as soon as its remaining fighters were mounted to its hull, it followed after the fleet, closing readily.
“Ops,” Jonathan said. “Given the current Delta V requirements, will we achieve a safe distance before detonation?”
“We will,” Lewis replied. “But just barely.”
He glanced at the red mass on his tactical display. The enemy capital ships were too far away, he thought, but the fighters... “What about the incoming alien fighter swarm? Will we escape them in time?”
Lewis shook her head. “They’re already moving at full acceleration. While we’re still struggling to achieve escape velocity, their front ranks will begin reaching us.”
“How many fighters are we talking about in those front ranks?”
“In the front ranks alone?” the ensign said. “Eight hundred. The other twenty-two hundred will follow shortly.”
Jonathan sighed.
“We have no nukes or other kinetic kills,” Robert said. “No mortars.”
“But we still have lasers,” Jonathan said. “And more importantly, mag-rails.”
“I’m not sure the mag-rails are going to make much of a difference,” Miko said. “The fighters, and the capital ships beyond them, are approaching in random zig-zag patterns. It’ll make targeting with successive slug waves very difficult, if not impossible. Especially without mortars or nukes to herd them.”
“Too bad we don’t have any of those 3D-printed decoys left,” Robert said. “We could have used them right about now.”
Jonathan studied his display.
There had to be a way to herd them into the slug waves without mortars or nukes. They could use Avengers, perhaps... then again, Avengers were too small for effective herding. And they made extremely expensive mortars.
Perhaps the successive waves of slugs themselves could be aimed so as to herd the enemy. If the slugs could force the swarm to dive toward the moon and its exploding crust, the problem would be solved.
He activated his noise canceler around himself, wanting—no, needing—complete silence. He wracked his brain, going over all his previous engagements with the Raakarr, searching for some actionable strategy. He mentally reviewed everything Barrick had told him about the aliens, too, and what he had learned firsthand while aboard the Talon.
There has to be a weakness we haven’t exploited yet. Something that will catch them completely by surprise.
And then he had it. Or at least, a potential idea.
He retracted the noise canceler.
“Lazur,” Jonathan said. “Get me Barrick. Put him on the bridge circuit.”
The telepath tapped in a moment later.
“Barrick,” Jonathan said. “You told me once that the Raakarr viewed the world as a series of point clouds. They see in point clouds, they think in point clouds, they communicate in point clouds. If we can fire our slugs in certain patterns, would it be possible to make the Raakarr believe that a solid object was approaching, say a mortar? I guess what I’m saying is, do their computers and AIs think and interpret information the same way the Raakarr themselves do?”
“I’ll ask Valor,” Barrick replied.
“You intend to herd them with ghosts?” Robert asked.
“That’s precisely what I intend to do, Commander,” Jonathan said.
Barrick responded a moment later, his voice carrying on the bridge circuit so that everyone present could hear: “Valor tells me that yes, their sensors work the same way as their vision, returning information in point clouds. In theory, during the heat of battle they could very well mistake a properly-arranged slug cloud for a solid object.”
“Any specifics I should be made aware of?” Jonathan asked.
“Well, the slugs forming the points of the involved illusion must have a minimum diameter of twenty-five millimeters, and be uniformly distributed across the frontal surfaces of the intended imaginary object, with a maximum separation of one meter between each point. Heat signatures must be present as well, of course. And it will only work up to fifty kilometers... the AIs aboard the fighters will realize the slugs aren’t actual solids within that range.”
“By then it will be too late,” Jonathan said. “Miko, is it doable? Can we create the illusion of warships?”
“It’ll be tricky,” Miko said. “None of our slugs meet the minimum twenty-five millimeter diameter. We’ll have to clump six slugs together to form something big enough to register as an individual point in the cloud. They’ll have to come together at just the right angle and momentum to proceed forward as a unit, with other dots, to form the ghost ships.”
“So is it doable, or is it not?”
“It’s doable,” Miko said. “But we’ll have to involve the other nine ships if we’re to have any hope of achieving it.”
“But we’re all random distances apart by now,” Jonathan said.
“I know,” Miko replied. “We’ll have to account for the separation of the ships, too. Maybe lining us up a bit better before firing.”
“What are we going to use for the heat signatures?” Robert asked.
“Maxwell,” Jonathan said. “If we fired the individual lasers in our Viper banks at low power, could we heat certain elements of the point cloud enough to mimic the thermal signatures of our warships?”
“In theory, yes,” the Callaway’s AI said. “But heat dissipates quickly in the void, so I’d have to coordinate with the AIs of the other ships to repeatedly fire our Vipers in succession to ensure the necessary elements remained heated.”
“The enemy will detect the rising heat signatures produced by our lasers,” Robert said. “They’ll know we’re firing.”
“But they won’t know at what we’re firing,” Jonathan said. “Am I right, Miko?”
“You are,” Miko replied. “Though I’m sure they’ll suspect subterfuge of some kind.”
Jonathan smiled deviously. “They’ll suspect, yes. But they won’t realize what we’re doing until too late.” He tapped in both the vice admiral and the admiral and explained his plan.
“It’s worth a shot,” Admiral Ford told him. “Proceed. I’ll instruct the AIs of our ships to await the Callaway’s firing solution for both Vipers and mag-rails. I’ll have our ships line up a bit better until then.”
“Thank you, Admiral.” He ended the connection. “You heard me relay the plan to the admiral, Miko?”
“I did, Captain,” the tactical officer replied.
“Good. I want you to work with Maxwell, and have the AI interface with the other starships of the battle group. Come up with a firing solution for our ten ships. Mag-rails and Vipers. To recap, make it look like five of our destroyers are breaking off to intercept the enemy. Herd them toward the moon, and if there is enough inventory, place a spread of slugs above the destroyers to catch any enemy units that try to escape into a higher orbit. You’ll have to update the laser barrage in realtime to account for the repositioning of the fleet immediately after the launch.”
“On it.”
Jonathan waited impatiently while the swarm grew ever closer. On his tactical display, he saw the ten ships move into firing position, and then hold.
Finally he couldn’t take it anymore. “Do you have a firing solution, Miko?”
“Almost.”
He waited longer.
“Miko, now would be a good time...”
“Got it.”
“Fire!” Jonathan said. “Lazur, send the order to reposition the fleet.”
As soon as the slugs were away, the ten ve
ssels modified their formation, with every second vessel moving in behind the ship just above it, combining their heat signatures and giving the illusion, from the point of view of the enemy swarm in orbit, that there were only five stacked ships, with five more breaking off to intercept the aliens.
“What if the enemy have other sensors on the surface that haven’t gone offline?” Robert said. “And they can see we’ve merely rearranged our vessels?”
“I’m hoping their moon-side sensors were on the same circuit as the defenses we already took offline,” Jonathan said.
“It’s working,” Lewis said. “I’m reading multiple short range laser attacks from the alien fighters, and they’re firing their own slugs at the ghosts.”
Robert glanced at Jonathan. “Will they realize their attacks are passing right through the incoming targets?”
Jonathan felt his stomach knot up. I don’t know, Commander.
“Enemy fighters are dispersing!” Lewis said. “Most are diving toward the colony, as planned. Roughly twenty percent are steering into the subsequent slug waves.”
Swaths of red vanished from the display as fighters were impacted by the secondary waves.
New blue dots appeared on the tactical display, some distance ahead of the fleet.
“What are those?” Jonathan asked.
“Mechs attached to booster rockets.” Ensign Lewis looked up. “It’s the MOTHs.”
“Miko, do we have time to decelerate to docking speed?” Jonathan asked.
“Don’t think so,” the tactical officer said. “We’ll be cutting it extremely close.”
“Maxwell?” Jonathan said.
“The lieutenant is correct,” the AI replied. “If we slow to docking speed, our chances of successfully escaping the detonation are only fifty-five percent.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together. He suddenly saw Famina’s face floating before his mind’s eye. He remembered the words she had told him on the mountain as if she had spoken yesterday.
Why won’t anyone help me?
Those words hardened Jonathan, and he made his decision: “We’re not leaving them, goddamnit. No one gets left behind on my watch. Slow to docking speed, helm. We’re collecting those mechs. Maxwell, see if any of the other ships want to join us. We’ll need at least two volunteers to get them all, by my estimate.”