Season of the Harvest
Page 48
And us, Amundsen thought worriedly.
***
The alien ship had activated its jump drive. While primitive, it was clearly based on the same principles used by Imperial starships. Such technology was an impressive accomplishment for any species, and gave the warriors hope that once again they had found worthy adversaries among the stars.
But the aliens would not - could not - be allowed to leave. Together, the battlecruisers moved in...
***
“Jump engines are spooled up, captain,” Kumar reported from his console. The jump coordinates were locked in. All they had to do was engage the computer interlock and Aurora would disappear into hyperspace inside of two minutes.
“Very well, XO,” McClaren replied, his eyes fixed intently on the four titanic ships, all of which were now shown clearly in the main bridge display.
Suddenly the ships leaped forward, closing the remaining ten million kilometers in an instant.
“What the devil...” McClaren exclaimed in surprise, watching as the alien vessels just as suddenly slowed down to take up positions around his ship.
“Sir,” Kumar exclaimed, “they must’ve picked up the jump engines activating! I recommend we jump-”
“Execute!” McClaren barked, a cold sliver of ice sliding into his gut. Then he jabbed the button on his command console to open a channel to the crew. “General quarters! Man your battle stations and prepare for emergency jump!”
“Interlock engaged,” came the unhurried and unconcerned voice of Aurora’s navigation computer. “Transpace countdown commencing. Primary energy buffer building. Two minutes remaining.”
McClaren looked at his command console, willing the countdown to run faster. But it was a hard-coded safety lock. There was no way to override it.
“Navigation lock confirmed-”
“Captain!” someone shouted.
McClaren looked up at the screen as a stream of interwoven lightning arced from the bow of the alien ship that had taken up position in front of them, hitting Aurora’s spherical sensor section. Its effect was instantaneous.
“Jesus!” someone screamed as what looked like St. Elmo’s fire suddenly exploded from every control console and electrical system on the ship. The dancing display of electric fury went on to cover everything, even the clothing of the crew. The entire ship was suddenly awash in electrical discharges.
But it clearly wasn’t simple electricity. There was no smoke or heat from overloaded circuits, and no one was injured by whatever energy washed through the ship and their own bodies. Surprised and frightened, yes. But hurt, no.
Then every single electrical system on the ship died, plunging Aurora’s crew into silent, terrifying darkness.
***
Having subdued the alien ship’s simple electronic systems, the lead warship made ready the boarding party that had been awaiting this moment. While the great warship’s crew now knew the layout of the alien ship and all it contained, including the aliens themselves, down to the last atom, the boarding party would be sent without this knowledge. They would give themselves no advantage over the aliens other than the surprise they had already achieved; even that, they would have given up if they could. They wished as even a field as possible, to prove their own mettle and to test that of the strangers. In this way, as through ages past, they sought to honor their Empress.
As one, the thirty warriors who had bested their peers in fierce ritual combat for the right to “greet” the strangers leaped into space toward the alien vessel. Thirty warriors pitted against seven times as many aliens. They hoped the odds would challenge their skills.
***
“Calm down!” Chief Harkness’s voice cut through the sudden panic like a razor. At her assigned jump station in the survey module inside the spherical bow section, Harkness had immediately clamped down on her own fear in the aftermath of the terrifying electrical surge that apparently had killed her ship. She had people to take care of, and she was too much of a professional to panic. “Listen to me,” she told the seven others in the cramped compartment. There were still a couple of them moaning in fear. “Listen, goddammit!” she snarled. That finally got their attention. Of all the things in the ship they might be afraid of, she would be the first and foremost if that helped them hold it together. “Get your heads screwed on straight. The ship’s hull hasn’t been ruptured. We’ve still got air. That’s priority number one. All the electrical systems must’ve been knocked out, which is why the artificial gravity is gone, along with the lights.” The darkness was disorienting enough, but being weightless on top of it was a cast iron bitch. She was actually more worried that the emergency lighting hadn’t come on. Those weren’t powered by the main electrical system, and their failure meant that something far worse had happened to her ship than a simple, if major, electrical blowout. “You’ve all experienced this before in training. So relax and start acting like the best sailors in the Navy. That’s why you were picked to serve on this ship.” She paused to listen, relieved to hear that the sniveling had stopped, and everyone’s breathing had slowed down a bit.
“Now, feel around for the emergency lockers,” she told them. “There should be three in here. Grab the flashlights and see if the damn things work.” While they could survive for some time on the available oxygen, the total darkness was going to give way to fear again if they didn’t get some light.
“Found one, chief,” someone said off to her left. There was a moment of scrabbling around, the sound of a panel opening, then a bit of rummaging.
Click.
Nothing.
“Fuck,” someone else whispered.
“Try another one,” Harkness grated.
“Okay-”
Suddenly she could see something. But it wasn’t the ship’s lighting or one of the emergency flashlights. It was like the walls themselves had begun to glow, throwing a subdued dark blue radiance into the compartment.
“Chief, what is this stuff?” one of the ratings asked quietly, her eyes, visible now in the ghostly light, bulging wide as she looked at the glowing bulkheads around her.
“I don’t know,” Harkness admitted. “But whatever it is, we can see now.” The compartment was now clearly, if softly lit. “So let’s use it and find out what the hell’s happened to the ship.”
Then something else unexpected happened: the gravity returned. Instantly. All eight of them slammed down on the deck in a mass of flailing limbs and passionate curses. Fortunately, they all had been oriented more or less upright, and no one was hurt.
“Shit,” Harkness gasped as she levered herself back onto her feet. “What the hell is going on...”
That’s when she heard the screaming.
***
The warriors plunged toward the alien ship. They wore their ceremonial armor for this ritual battle, eschewing any more powerful protection. They soared across the distance between the ships with arms and legs outstretched, enjoying the sight of the universe afforded by the energy shields that invisibly surrounded them and protected them from hard vacuum. They needed no devices to assist in maneuvering toward their target: theirs was a race that had been plying the stars for ages, and their space-borne heritage led them to a fearless precision that humans could only dream of.
They were not concerned about any pathogenic organisms the aliens carried, as the healers who would be sent once the ship had been subdued would take care of such matters. The scan of the alien vessel had revealed an atmosphere that, while not optimal, was certainly breathable.
There was no warrior priestess in this system to bear the honor of leading them in this first encounter, but no matter. The senior warriors were well experienced and had the blessing of the Empress: they could sense Her will in their very blood, as She could sense what they felt. It was more a form of empathic bonding than telepathy, but its true essence was beyond intellectual understanding.
As they neared the ship, the warriors curled into a fetal position, preparing to make contact with t
he alien hull. The energy shields altered their configuration, warping into a spherical shape to both absorb the force of the impact and force an entry point through the simple metal rushing up to meet them.
The first warrior reached the hull, and the energy shield seared through the primitive alien metal, instantly opening a portal to the interior. The warrior smoothly rolled through to land on her feet inside, quickly readjusting to the gravity that the crew of the warship had restored for benefit of the aliens. The energy shield remained in place behind the warrior, sealing the hole it had created in the hull plating and containing the ship’s atmosphere.
In only a few seconds more, all the other warriors had forced themselves aboard the hapless vessel.
***
The screaming Chief Harkness heard was from Ensign Mary Withgott. Her battle station was at a damage control point where the spherical bow section connected to the main keel and the passageway that led to the rest of the ship. The damage control point was on the sphere’s side of a blast proof door that was now locked shut. She could open it manually, but wouldn’t consider it unless she got direct orders from the captain.
“Ensign!” one of the two ratings with her shouted as a shower of burning sparks exploded from the bulkhead above them. The two crewmen stared, dumbstruck, as someone, some alien thing, somersaulted through a huge hole that had been burned through the hull and into the damage control compartment.
A blue-skinned nightmare clad in gleaming black armor, the alien smoothly pirouetted toward the two crewmen, exposing fangs between dark red lips. Its eyes were like those of a cat, flecked with silver, below a ridge of bone or horn. The creature’s black hair was long and tightly braided, the coils wrapped around its upper shoulders. The armored breastplate had two smoothly contoured projections over what must be the alien equivalent of breasts. While Withgott had no idea what the alien’s true gender (if any) might be, the creature’s appearance was such that Withgott had the inescapable impression that it was female, a she.
The alien stood there for a moment, meeting Withgott’s frightened gaze with her own inscrutable expression. Then the sword the alien held in her right hand hissed through the air, cleanly severing the head from the nearest crewman. His body spasmed as his head rolled from his neck, a gout of crimson spurting across the bulkhead behind him.
Withgott screamed, and kept on screaming as the alien turned to the second crewman with the ferocious grace of a hunting tigress and thrust the sword through the man’s chest.
Then the fanged nightmare came for Withgott.
DISCOVER OTHER BOOKS BY MICHAEL R. HICKS
The In Her Name Series
First Contact
Legend Of The Sword
Dead Soul
Empire
Confederation
Final Battle
From Chaos Born
Trilogy Collections
In Her Name: Redemption
In Her Name: The Last War
Thrillers
Season Of The Harvest
Bitter Harvest
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in 1963, Michael Hicks grew up in the age of the Apollo program and spent his youth glued to the television watching the original Star Trek series and other science fiction movies, which continues to be a source of entertainment and inspiration. Having spent the majority of his life as a voracious reader, he has been heavily influenced by writers ranging from Robert Heinlein to Jerry Pournelle and Larry Niven, and David Weber to S.M. Stirling. Living in Maryland with his beautiful wife, two wonderful stepsons and two mischievous Siberian cats, he’s now living his dream of writing novels full-time.