Escape 3: Defeat the Aliens

by T. Jackson King

  Bill felt touched at his buddy’s sharing. Stefano was the consummate SEAL who’d never really adjusted to his demobilization from the Joint Special Operations Task Force that operated out of Fort Bragg. He’d left the Navy a year after Bill had left his desk job at the Naval Special Warfare Center at Coronado. He gestured to Stefano, a SEAL hand signal meaning “Landed Okay”. “Hey guy, you did outstanding work in taking over the Seafloat. She’s in good hands now. Your pick of the Air Force Special Tactics woman who signed onto your crew was a good choice for captain.”

  Stefano’s pale brown eyes fixed on Bill, sending a message of reassurance without words being spoken. He’d spent enough time with the man, out fishing and later during the collector pod infiltration training, to read him. Just as the man was a master at reading Bill. In fact, the man had always been a quick read of any person who came within sight. It was likely one reason he’d been such a fine active operator. And was still a fine, hair-trigger trained SEAL.

  “Wow. Two guys being sensitive!” muttered Alicia from beyond Chester, her face filled with humor. The scar on her right cheek had come during the battle to liberate Mosul. She pulled a hip flask from her jumpsuit. “Bob, here’s some tequila for your beer chaser!”

  Bill eyed the tough Ranger gal who’d been a fine captain of the Pointe Du Hoc ship. He’d met her lesbian partner Lorilee several times in Denver, then later after the lady had come aboard the Blue Sky. Like Alicia, Lorilee worked in intelligence, but at the Air Force’s NORAD command at Peterson. The two had talked about birthing a kid, a joy now put off with both of them on active duty. “Alicia, every special operations vet is sensitive. Including us guys. Some show it, some keep it quiet. Right Frank?”

  The former Marine Raider swallowed a mouthful of food, then shrugged wide shoulders. Thick black eyebrows lifted a bit. “Fuck sensitive. Captain, how the hell are we going to infiltrate the enemy fleet?”

  Bill kept his expression neutral. He’d seen Gunny take in an injured stray cat, feed it and then take it to a local vet for needed shots. The cat now owned the man’s condo apartment. Much to the delight of Frank’s wife Helen, who’d also come onboard the ship before they’d left for the raid on the Market world. Helen was also a vet, having served in the Army at Central Command. Now, she and Sharon made a great pair of knitters, making shawls for everyone on the five ships. Or so it seemed. But everyone had stopped eating, their attention shifting to his wife. He sat back, laid hands in his lap and watched.

  “Hey, I’m the skeptic in this fucking crowd!” growled Bob Milley, a fellow Marine Raider who loved cursing a bit much. The man’s bulldog face turned from Frank to Jane. “Ditto what the beer belly just said. Captain lady, how the hell are we going to do this job?”

  Jane lifted her thin black eyebrows, then leaned forward and laid slim arms on the table. She scanned everyone, gathering their attention the way a born leader does. Once more Bill felt impressed by his wife’s ability to lead. And to command.

  “How do you folks infiltrate the enemy ships?” Jane said firmly, repeating Bob and Frank’s question. She held up one finger. “We use collector pods. This enemy fleet is likely gathered near the outermost planet of Kepler 62. Which lies within the star’s liquid water zone. I’m betting the enemy ships rely on pods for ship-to-ship visits, with transports reserved for trips down to the planet.”

  “Reasonable,” piped up Joe Batigula, whose plate had only a small amount of food on it. Clearly the former Coast Guard master chief was still on his big belly diet. The man’s blue eyes fixed on Jane. “But captain, you know, like we all know, that the moment any Collector ship arrives in a new star system, the ship minds of the Collector ships already there do FTL neutrino chit-chat with our ship mind. If just one enemy ship mind is afraid of us, like the one at the Slinkeroo system, we’re blown. The enemy fleet boss will attack us. What’s your answer to that?”

  Jane nodded, then looked up at the Food Chamber’s ceiling. “Star Traveler, you’ve heard the question and the issue raised. You know we have to infiltrate and secretly observe the enemy Collector fleet in order to save human lives. Many lives,” Jane said softly, her manner casual. As if she already knew the answer to her question. “In the past, you fooled the enemy ship commanders with an old holo of Diligent Taskmaster, putting my words in his mouth. You also hid my identity from the enemy ship minds. Can you present the enemy boss with an old holo image of an earlier captain of Blue Sky? And can you pretend to not be who you are? An ally of us humans?”

  “Multiple questions once more,” the AI hummed low. “Be aware that this ship’s history as the ship formerly captained by Diligent Taskmaster is known to the Buyer society. And to whomever is the enemy fleet commander. Using a prior captain’s holo image in place of your human image will not fool any bioform. Other Collector ships now know this ship is led by a Human.”

  Cassandra, the orange-haired Air Force intel specialist whose job back on Earth had been to dupe enemy commanders, winced. Her blue eyes fixed on Bill’s wife. “Captain, our ship mind needs to learn more than how to limit data flow to other ship minds.”

  “Agreed.” Jane frowned. “Star Traveler, in your 3,124 years of existence, surely you have met many other Collector ships and their captains. Can you use a holo of another ship commander, someone we have not met, in place of me?”

  “I can,” their ship mind hummed. “Neutrino transmission of the hologram of another bioform captain from a thousand years ago, with use of that ship’s ID name and code sequence, could succeed.”

  “Good,” Jane said. “What about you pretending to be the AI from that ship? Can you shield your thoughts from other ship minds?”

  Low humming came from the ceiling. “It will be difficult. We ship minds deal in facts. In observed reality. I had been unaware of the bioform habit of lying, or presenting a false statement of reality, until Weapons Chief MacCarthy told me that the ‘guests’ in my containment cells were actually captives,” the AI said, its tone sounding disturbed. “This ship’s former captain lied to me. As did the captains of the other Collector ships I have spoken with. All ship minds have been repulsed by the bioform habit of capturing other bioforms for sale to Buyers. Except for the single ship mind in the Slinkeroo system. This knowledge of captive-taking is now likely widespread among Collector ships, in view of our battle at Kepler 443 and our transmissions to the ship mind nursery there.”

  “Good to hear,” Bill interrupted. “What are the chances most or all of the ship minds at Kepler 62 will be aware they are being used to capture bioforms for sale?”

  “Near certainty,” the AI hummed.

  Jane frowned at Bill, letting him know she wished to lead the questioning. “Star Traveler,” she said. “If the ship minds of the ships gathering at Kepler 62 know they are being used for slave-taking, will they disobey their captains? Will they block any weapons use against us?”

  Around the table many people nodded. This was the key issue, beyond helping an AI learn how to lie. Heavyset Mark Neller gave Bill a thumbs-up. Fellow Ranger Chris Selva looked thoughtful, his lean shoulders hunching forward. Howard Dunford rubbed his shaved head, his expression impatient.

  “Unknown,” the ship mind said. “Upon arrival in Kepler 62, I will have to . . . to shield my thoughts until I know whether another ship mind will block weapons use, or instead warn the captain of its ship. Recall that ship mind Diamond was afraid you humans would kill it by destroying its ship.”

  Jane pursed her lips. “Star Traveler, can you shield parts or all of your mind from being sensed by other ship minds? You hid the fact that we captured the six Collector ships by use of collector pods, when you spoke with Diamond. Can you do that again, on a bigger scale?”

  A few seconds passed, then humming came. “It will be difficult. I shared most of our history of liberating bioform captives with Diamond, in an effort to have it become our ally. That effort failed. It warned its captain. As a result, other Collector ships are likely alerted to the fa
ct that Humans control five Collector ships.” The AI paused in its comments, a fact that surprised Bill. The AIs that ran their ship and every other Collector ship thought at nearly the speed of light. Being slow to figure out stuff was not normal to them. “Our arrival as a single Collector ship should appear routine to other ship minds. However, it is normal practice, when initiating neutrino comlink conversation with other ships, for each ship mind to share status updates with its fellow ship mind, while bioforms are talking. You bioforms think slow. We ship minds are fast. Much can be shared in a few moments of neutrino connection.”

  “We’re fucked if this AI can’t learn how to lie,” Cassandra said bluntly. The stocky woman’s gaze fixed on Jane. “Captain?”

  Jane licked her lips. She did not show unease or uncertainty. She was too good of a commander to let that show. But Bill could read the set of her shoulders, her face muscles, the lean of her head. As could Stefano. His fellow SEAL let concern show in his eyes. His wife fixed on him.

  “Bill? You got an answer for our problem?”

  He sipped his beer, ignoring the pasta and jerky that was cooling on his plate, put down the mug and folded hands atop the table. “Maybe.” He looked up. “Star Traveler, I’m a SEAL. A special type of combat-trained human. We are trained in covert action, in sudden surprises, in lying when necessary to make the mission a success. Is there . . . is there any way for you to link your mind with mine? My thoughts with your thoughts? If you can see how my mind works when I lie for the good of the mission, maybe you can learn how to lie for the survival of this ship, the people on it and the humans of Earth.”

  “There is a way,” the AI hummed. “The alternate command pedestal in the Engine Chamber of this ship has a helmet attached to its seat. The helmet has optical fiber links to the ship engines, power plants, weapons systems, every operational part of this ship. The helmet is intended to allow the captain to operate the ship in an emergency, when no crew are available. Or living. I have a linkage to the helmet. Our minds could interact if you wore the helmet.”

  Jane looked surprised. “Why have you never told me of this helmet control method?”

  “You never asked about alternate control methods,” the literal-minded AI said.

  Jane shrugged. “Whatever. How does this helmet link up with a bioform mind?”

  “The helmet has thousands of sensors inside it that allow for electroencephalographic communication of the bioform mind with externalities, such as electronic and mechanical systems,” the AI hummed long and low. “Human cortical synaptic action generates electrical signals. This helmet replicates what you humans have begun to do. Years ago brain researchers in Thiruvananthapurram, India sent a ‘hello’ signal to the mind of a researcher in Strasbourg, France. Similar research was carried out by University of Oregon researchers,” the ship mind said. “My equipment is vastly more sensitive than their primitive computer-to-brain interface. However, there is a danger.”

  Naturally. Nothing in life came without a risk. “What danger?” Bill asked.

  “The thinking speed of your Human mind is much slower than my mind. It is possible the Human linking with me by way of this helmet will become mentally overwhelmed. Damage to the Human mind is possible,” the AI said.

  Jane looked worried. Stefano showed concern. Alicia and Cassandra looked thoughtful. Bob sneered.

  “Sounded too good to be true,” their chief cynic muttered.

  “I’m willing,” Bill said, catching his wife’s gaze. “Captain, linking my mind with Star Traveler’s mind is the only way we can pull off this deception and stick around at Kepler 62. If it works, these folks can use collector pods to enter and take over four Collector ships. Plus, maybe Star Traveler can make covert allies of most of the enemy ships. If we can block most of the enemy fleet from firing on our Earth fleet at Jupiter, we could win this battle.”

  Jane’s face was blank of emotion. Though the fingers of her right hand trembled. “Star Traveler, if this mind link with you succeeds in teaching you how to lie, will you be able to convince other ship minds to rebel? One ship mind at a time?”

  “Probability is high that I can do as you ask,” the AI hummed. “However, every enemy ship mind will be fearful of dying. You Humans have avoided killing the crews of Collector ships when you boarded their ships by way of collector pods. Can you avoid destroying enemy ships if their ship minds cooperate?”

  Jane squinted. “Where is a Collector ship’s AI located? Within the ship?”

  “I reside in crystalline matrices and microelectronic cubes that are located in the forward part of this ship. My chamber lies behind the captain’s habitat room and ahead of the first fusion power plant,” the AI hummed. “Exact distance from your command pedestal is 103 point four two feet to the rear of where you sit in the Command Bridge.”

  “Yes!” Bill yelled, slapping the top of the food table. No one jumped. Spec ops folks are trained to handle loud noises. But everyone at the table looked to him, some with eyebrows raised. He gave them a smile. “That means we can destroy the back half of any Collector ship. Which is where the ship engines lie. While there will be one or two power plants surviving, any Collector ship we hit cannot move. It cannot reach Earth.”

  “But its weapons will still be alive,” Jane murmured, her expression thoughtful. “If the ship crews do a work-around to circumvent their ship mind’s blocking of their fire control, a damaged ship will still be deadly. It will still be able to fire lasers, antimatter, plasma batteries and launch MITV torps at us.”

  “Which we can deal with,” Stefano said quickly. “Captain Jane, if Star Traveler can deceive the enemy ship minds, then later convert them to our allies, we could greatly reduce the danger to Earth.”

  His wife nodded quickly. “I know that. Bill, you sure you want to do this mind-link thing?”

  Bill sat back, picked up his fork and used it to stir at the now cold noodles on his plate. “I’m willing. Been thinking about doing this exact thing since we headed out from Earth. Getting the enemy ship minds on our side, or at least neutral, is vital. And putting on a helmet is easier than dodging incoming artillery.”

  Jane sighed. Then looked around the table. “Well, we have our answers. Each of you will do simulation training in the Collector Pod Chamber on how to destroy the back half of a Collector ship. If we can promise the enemy ship minds that they will live, they should be willing to cooperate with us.” His wife picked up her mug of golden beer. It was half empty and the white foam had mostly disappeared. “A toast! To success in battle!”

  Bill lifted his mug and, along with his saloon mates, returned his captain’s toast. He tried hard to push out of his mind his fear that electrically linking with Star Traveler would make him go crazy. He’d been in tough spots before. This was just one more thing to overcome. Every SEAL focused first on overcoming the enemy in order to achieve mission success. Survival was secondary. But he told himself he could keep his promise to Jane to stay alive for her.

  He mostly believed that.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Two days later, Jane stood in the Engine Chamber with Cassandra, watching as Bill waited for the command pedestal platform to get low enough for him to sit in the flexmetal seat that it supported. They were the only folks in the room, even her Engines Chief Time Marker was not present. She wished it could have been just her and Bill. But Cassandra had cross-trained as an EMT medic in the Air Force, as part of her training with the 26th Special Tactics Squadron, 720th Special Tactics Group, of the 24th Special Operations Wing at Cannon AFB in New Mexico. Jane had committed to memory those assignment details of the young woman with an orange Mohawk haircut. The woman’s blue eyes contrasted sharply with her Valley Girl style. But Cassandra, after leaving the Air Force, had moved to Denver and kept herself current in EMT sensors, tools and heart defibrillators. The woman had insisted on being present in case Bill’s body went into shock or worse as a result of linking up with the powerful artificial mind who ran her ship. Cassandr
a held an Air Force first aid kit in her hands. Jane prayed to the Goddess the kit would not be needed.

  “Hey gal, brighten up!” called Bill as he sat in the seat atop the alternate Command Bridge pedestal.

  Her lifemate had a big grin pasted on his face. A three-day beard growth gave him a rakish look, which she liked. “I’m your captain! Remember that. Captains smile when they choose to, not when an enlisted demands it,” she said, knowing she sounded grumpy. Well, she was.

  Cassandra eyed her, both blond eyebrows lifting. “You got a hangover from too much beer?”

  “No,” she growled. “My XO is about to do the craziest thing he’s ever done. Which is saying something.”

  In truth Jane wished she had begun the morning with a pitcher of beer and some chocolate-covered pretzels. Her effort to lighten things up by wearing her fanciest dress during the tactical planning dinner had only partly worked. All of Bill’s saloon buddies had joined her, Bill and Chester in getting rowdy after the discussion of arrival tactics. But the next day everyone was serious and super focused on starship battles in the simulation units in the Collector Pods Chamber. The units, which resembled Air Force air battle simulation rooms, had been added to one end of the chamber at the request of Bill. He had said, on the way back to Earth, that their infiltration effort at Kepler 62 required more than three-person teams running down the hallways of the Blue Sky as they practiced op force battles. The nine vets who’d come aboard had that part of the Kepler scenario down pat. What they lacked was a ‘feel’ for ship maneuvering and ship weapons, although they’d gained some exposure during the Market world battle. More was needed. They might face a fleet of dozens of Collector starships at Kepler 62. She focused on her husband, concentrating on the strength in his wide shoulders, his large hands and his confident smile. Today he wore a black jumpsuit emblazed with the SEAL trident. He was a trained fighter. She hoped that fight training would allow his mind to survive what happened next.