by Nick Webb
“All pilots, board your birds and stand by to launch.”
And that was that. Everyone put away their golf balls, rabbit feet, crosses, rings, pictures of loved ones—things they’d been fiddling with to keep focused—and rushed to their fighters. Jessica climbed the ladder to her own bird and was about to jump into the cockpit.
“Fishtail!” She glanced to her right, where Ballsy was seated in his own cockpit. “I’ve got your back. Don’t worry—you’ll see the little guy again. I promise.”
She nodded and smiled a tight-lipped acknowledgement.
But Ballsy wasn’t God. Just some fighter jock with an oversized sense of self-worth.
The cockpit frame descended and locked into place, and she put on her headset. At least the kid meant well, and she appreciated it. Flipping on the comm, she signaled Volz. “Hey. Thanks.”
“No problem, Fishtail. Now let’s go kick some ass.”
She rubbed the white groove on her finger left by the ring. “One ass-kicking, coming right up.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Near Earth
Bridge, ISS Constitution
“When will we be in firing range?” Granger asked the weapons crew chief.
“In about twenty minutes, sir, but we’ll only be in firing range for about a minute, and after that we’ll be shooting past them at five kilometers a second.”
“Wrong. We’ll be in firing range for two minutes.”
It took the crew chief a moment before it dawned on him. “You’re going to turn the ship around?”
“Right after we pass them, yes. We’ll flip a one-eighty, and resume blasting them with our mag-rails while we fly away from them. Ideally we’d only turn ninety, to give our starboard crews a direct line of sight, but we still need to decelerate, so one-eighty will have to do, and we only have a few rear guns, so just blazing by them without turning is out of the question.”
“Understood, sir.”
“And that’s not all. You’re going to concentrate all your fire at one spot on the lead ship. And you’re going to start at double the regular firing range—I know we’re less accurate that far out, but at least a few will find their mark, and it might distract them from pulverizing our fleet out there.”
He pointed to a schematic of an alien ship that one of the tactical crew had brought up on his screen. “There,” he said, tapping. “Concentrate all fire on this spot. Then, when we’re at closest approach, fire our remaining nuke right at the hole we’ll have made. As we fly away, your next target depends on what the nuke does. If the first ship is still intact, keep firing at it. If we disable or destroy it, choose a new target. Same drill—one spot on the other ship. Understood?”
“Aye, sir,” said the chief, and the whole tactical crew saluted.
“Captain,” said Proctor, sidling up to him. “What if they’re generating a forced singularity when we fly by? Should we try to do anything about it?”
He turned to her, smiling. “And I assume you have a suggestion?”
She mirrored his smile. “I do.”
Chapter Fifty
Near Earth
Bridge, ISS Constitution
“It’s not going to work,” said Granger. He eyed the Rainbow, the small transport ship that had carried all the schoolchildren to the decommissioning ceremony but which now sat vacant, pushed to the rear of the main fighter deck. He wondered where all the children were—they must have been ushered further into the core of the ship—a much safer location than the giant bay filled with scuffed-up fighters, mechanics, grease, ordnance, missiles, fuel cylinder dollies, and pilots ready for the order to fly back out into battle.
Commander Procter huffed, looking up at the shiny vessel. “It will work, sir. We’ll link up the Rainbow’s autopilot to the Constitution’s nav computer, and we can handle the rest from the bridge. All they need to do down here is push it out the bay door when we’re about to fly past. If a lone X-25 fighter will disrupt a forced singularity, then a corvette will have no trouble dissipating one.”
“Push it out? And what if it hits one of our ships? What if the computers don’t link up properly, and we lose control of it? It could fly right into one of our—” He trailed off, gritting his teeth. Truth be told, it was an excellent idea. But it wasn’t his, dammit.
And his chest burned. Every breath was torture. The walk down to the fighter bay, though rather short, seemed alarmingly long as he wheezed.
“Fine.” He motioned to the deck chief, and pointed at the Rainbow. “Chief, get her linked up to the Constitution and route the commands up to the bridge. Then position her right at the bay doors, and be prepared to shove her out with the hydraulic lift on my com—”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Violent coughs erupted out of his throat, and taking his hand away from his mouth, he saw it was covered in blood.
Proctor’s eyes widened. “Captain! Are you all right? You didn’t tell me you were injured.” She grabbed his arm as he descended into another fit of coughing.
He waved her off. “I’m fine,” he finally managed to squeeze out in between coughs. Forcing himself to breathe long, slow breaths, he managed to calm the spasms. It was getting worse. If he were on Earth, he’d be in hospice care by now. Or, more likely, relaxing on some beach in Florida doped up on meds, living his last few weeks in the warm sun and sand.
But he was here. Earth was under attack, his ship was in mortal danger, and his people needed him. No time to convalesce, mope, or admit weakness. He straightened up and faced her, putting on a grim smile. “I’m fine,” he repeated. “Just a previous condition acting up. But the doc says I’m clear for duty.” He noticed the suspicious doubt lingering in her eyes. “I just talked to him an hour ago. He cleared me for duty, and by god I’m going to pull us through this if it’s the last thing I do.”
He hadn’t meant to yell that last part, but as it was, several nearby technicians stopped to stare at him, their eyes widening slightly. He saw the fear in their faces. The uncertainty, and the confusion—he realized that down here, away from the bridge and all the firing crews, nobody likely knew much about what was going on.
Before he could say something to assuage them, Commander Proctor held onto his arm again and mumbled in his ear. “If you keep on your feet acting like some superhero, then it will be the last thing you do. Sir, you’ve got to see to your health—if you collapse in the middle of a critical operation—”
“I said,” he interrupted sternly, indicating the matter was closed, “I’m fine. Come on, let’s get back to the bridge.” He glanced down at his watch. “We’re nearly there.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Near Earth
Bridge, ISS Constitution
Back on the bridge, Granger nodded to the tactical crew chief, who nodded back, and apparently reading his mind, said, “All targeting solutions calculated, sir. We’ll be in range in two minutes.”
“Good. Navigation,” he said, turning to the nav crew, “has the remote control of the Rainbow been passed up here yet?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Good. If they’ve begun initiating their forced singularity weapon, and if I give the signal, you navigate that thing straight into the little bastard. Direct hit. Understood?”
“Aye, sir,” the nav chief repeated.
He sat down in his chair. His feet ached, his back felt like it had been crushed by a parked starship, and his insides were on fire. Ignore the pain. The ship comes first, he thought, and turned to Proctor. “Commander, direct the fire crew.”
“Yes, sir.”
They all watched the countdown timer on the screen hovering next to the image—far sharper and less grainy than it had been before—of the battle still raging near the behemoth Valhalla Station. Now that the battle had drifted closer, the station had finally let loose with its formidable array of firepower, consisting mostly of high-powered lasers—which Granger now knew were ineffective against the alien hulls—but also several dozen mag-rails.
And, miraculously, at least half of the IDF cruisers were still intact.
But, appallingly, the other half were drifting and tumbling through space, broken and flaming, gorging debris and people into the void.
“Ten seconds,” said Proctor. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Initiate mag-rail barrage on the lead ship.”
On the screen, several streams of white-hot projectiles shot away from the ship, barely captured by the high frame-rate of the forward video cameras as momentary streaks.
Another thirty seconds passed before the mag-rail slugs started impacting on the alien ship, and the tactical crew chief shook his head. “As expected, at this distance the slugs just aren’t finding their mark. Only about a third are hitting it, sir.”
“Carry on. Keep firing at the target. Any gravimetric distortions?” he asked.
“None, sir,” replied an officer at the science station.
Good. No forced singularity yet. He wondered what the target would be once they deployed their super-weapon. Valhalla Station? The largest of the heavy cruisers still intact?
The countdown timer had been reset to indicate the time remaining until flyby. Two minutes. Granger was on the edge of his seat—nothing he could do now but watch the mag-rail fire find its target and hope for the best.
“Sir, incoming transmission from Valhalla Station,” said the comm officer.
Granger pointed to his console. “Pipe it through.”
Admiral Zingano’s harried face appeared on his screen. There was absolute mayhem in the background behind him, as he was in the combat operations center. Before speaking to Granger, he turned to the side and spoke to someone offscreen. “Intensify point-defense screen on our port flank. Too many alien fighters are getting through and we’ve lost ten guns down there.” He turned back to the screen. “Tim, I’m glad you’re here, but what the hell are you doing on such a fast approach vector? You’ll be in battle for less than a minute!”
The anger poured through the screen, but he was distracted. After issuing a few more commands to his combat crew, he turned back to the screen again. Granger cleared his throat. “It was our only option for getting here in time to have any effect, sir. If we’d waited to slow at a normal approach velocity, we’d have arrived far too late.”
Zingano pressed his lips together in annoyance, and shook his head. “We’re doing better than we might have hoped, though we’ve lost the Justice, the Valiant, the Eclipse, and the Hemingway, as well as a dozen other cruisers and god knows how many fighters and frigates.” His eyes hardened for a moment. “And Tim, there’s something else. Long-range scanners based on Europa have picked up the signal of another fleet, closing rapidly—even faster than this one. They’ll be here in an hour.”
Granger swore. “How many ships?”
“At least three more.”
If they didn’t find a way to make their weapons more effective against the alien ships, or repel their massive firepower with greater efficiency, then it was over. There was no way they’d stand up to seven of those monsters attacking Earth. “We’re nearly there. Are we having any effect on the lead alien ship?”
Zingano glanced at his readout. “You’re punching quite the hole in it. What are you going to do, hit it with a nuke?”
“Exactly.”
He shrugged. “All of ours have been intercepted. Their targeting algorithms are even more advanced than seventy-five years ago. I—”
He cut off abruptly, snapping his head off to the side to listen to a report Granger couldn’t quite hear.
“Sir!” Lieutenant Diaz looked up. “Detecting massive gravimetric distortions straight ahead. They’re initiating the forced singularity, Captain.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Near Earth
Bridge, ISS Constitution
Granger thumbed the comm. “Chief, prepare to eject the Rainbow on my mark.” He glanced at the navigation station. “You all ready?”
Ensign Prince nodded.
The countdown timer ticked away on the front viewscreen.
Twenty seconds.
Amidst the heat of the battle on the screen, they saw the tell-tale glimmer of the forced singularity. It grew quickly in intensity—whether from the increase in size, or the Constitution’s rapid approach, Granger couldn’t tell.
Fifteen seconds.
“Commander, I want a full sensor suite focused on that singularity and the alien ships. I want to know everything about it. Everything.”
Five seconds.
Proctor gave her signal. “Fire the nuke!”
Granger pointed to the navigation station. “Now. Eject the Rainbow. And be ready to rotate one-eighty.”
On the screen, several things happened at once.
The nuclear missile shot away from the starboard side of the ship, streaking with incredible velocity toward the lead alien ship, where, in spite of the point-defense fire from the target, it made impact and detonated with an overwhelmingly bright blast.
When the screen desaturated from the nuclear explosion, they watched with held breath as the Rainbow plowed right into the glimmering singularity, and in the blink of an eye, both disappeared. Several bridge crew members fist pumped the air and cheered.
But from the wreckage of the lead alien ship came one of the remaining three, and it unloaded a ferocious barrage of shimmering green blasts towards Valhalla Station.
“Target that ship!” yelled Granger.
“Aye, sir,” said the tactical crew chief.
But it was too little, too late. Whereas before the alien ships seemed content to hang back from the station to concentrate their attention on the fleet of IDF ships that had intercepted them, this ship now seemed intent on breaking the station. And to their dismay, one of the giant docking arms of the station completely snapped off, flashing fire and debris at the joint.
“Unload everything we’ve got, Lieutenant! Bring her down!”
“Sorry, sir,” the tactical crew chief began, “We’re running low on slugs. We need to reload.”
Granger spun back to the screen. A second docking arm snapped off under the heavy barrage. “DAMMIT!” He pounded the armrest of his chair as one of the main sections of the station cracked in half, splintering into dozens of flaming pieces as that section’s oxygen lines erupted into a fireball. One of the colossal flaming pieces drifted towards a derelict IDF cruiser, and the two collided in another explosion.
Granger turned back to his command station’s screen to talk to Admiral Zingano, but the scene was a hectic display of smoke, sparks, and jumbled yelling and screaming. Zingano was nowhere to be seen on the screen, and in another moment it went to static.
“Nav, what’s our decel rate?” he muttered, just above a whisper.
“Three g’s, sir.”
“Increase to five.”
“But sir, our gravitational compensating field won’t be able to keep up with a burn like—”
“You heard me. Five g’s.” He thumbed open his comm. “This is the captain. Prepare for severe gravitational and inertial disturbances. We’re about to hit five g’s. Grab on to something and hold on tight, people.”
Proctor dashed for an empty seat at the science station. “Strap in, everybody!”
Within a moment, the ship began to shake, far worse than the throbbing caused by the forced singularity weapon. Seconds later, the ship seemed to lurch forward, throwing them all against their restraints, then backward again, then forward, as the ship’s gravitational stabilizers struggled to calibrate themselves against the huge g-forces straining the ship.
“Ops, see if you can’t stabilize that grav field,” yelled Granger.
Proctor craned her head over to the ops station. “Increase the damping term in the harmonic oscillator kernel of the main grav program. Tie it directly to the output of the gravitational sensor array.”
Within a few moments, the shaking and lurching lessened, but they all still had to hold on to their chairs and consoles.
“Passing out of weapons range now, sir,” called out the tactical chief. “The second alien ship sustained moderate, but superficial damage.”
It was maddening to know that with every second that ticked past, Valhalla Station and the fleet was being picked apart. Hundreds, thousands of lives were being lost.
And Granger could do nothing.
“Commander Proctor. What did our sensors pick up during our flyby?”
“I haven’t had the chance to talk to the science team, sir.” She turned to them. “Anything?”
One of the science officers cleared his throat. “We’re still analyzing the data, sir, and I can’t say anything definitive.”
Granger rolled his eyes. Scientists. “Then say something speculative.”
“Well, sir, best guess.... It’s obvious that there is quantum coupling between the singularity and each of the alien ships participating in its generation. That’s how the teleportation happens—they’re essentially using quantum teleportation to transfer mass past the event horizon—”
“Wait,” said Granger, interrupting, “it’s a black hole. Why the hell can we see it?”
“We’re not seeing the black hole itself, sir. It’s actually microscopic. And the event horizon is less than a hundredth of a millimeter across. We’re just seeing the synchrotron radiation of the mass falling in as it orbits around.”
“Ah. Go on, then.”
The rumbling of the ship had started to intensify, but there was nothing they could do about it. The science officer continued, “Well, the link appears to go both ways. Obviously, it’s quantum coupling—what happens to the singularity affects the power cores of the alien ships. At least, I assume they’re using their power cores to generate the energy to transmit the quantum signal.”
“And did we detect some change when the Rainbow hit the singularity?”