by Dean M. Cole
Sandy gasped as the mountainous glowing glob raced toward the Atlantic Ocean. Then, all the large ships turned their lasers and fired into the falling debris. The powerful beams broke the melted minerals into their constituent atoms. Freed of molecular bonds, the liquefied rock evaporated into a gaseous plasma. Like a comet passing too close to the sun, the plummeting molten sphere grew a fiery tail.
"Holy shit," Sandy whispered.
Renewed activity at the conflict's core drew her attention. Like an hourglass laid on its side, the overlapping shield bubbles protecting what was left of the enemy fleet fluoresced under the unyielding onslaught. Between flares, she glimpsed two ships within the double-bubble. A smaller third entity appeared to occupy the area between the two. Then, the linked orbs opaqued in a spasm of opalescent light fluorescing under the continued laser assault of the encapsulating fighters. A brief lull in the bombardment revealed the third object as the blasted ship-remnant that had risen from Chesapeake Bay.
Sandy turned a nervous eye toward the planet below. "What are they doing about the other ships?"
"What other ships?" the major asked.
Sandy pointed at the two and a half vessels hovering at the center of the image. "There were sixteen of those assholes. I assume that's the one that came out of the Chesapeake. It and those two, along with the one they just shot down, only accounts for four of them." Prying her eyes from the incredible scene playing out on the display, Sandy turned to the female major with a questioning look. "Where are the other twelve?"
The major pointed at the Atlantic. "Sinking to the bottom of the ocean." For the first time since meeting Sandy, the stark officer smiled. "What's left of them, anyway."
Before she could ask the myriad questions elicited by the answer, movement at the top of the display drew her attention. New disc-shaped ships darted into the image.
Sandy had observed combat operations from this room in the past. Like her fighter's tactical display, the command center's computers normally superimposed an icon over each asset in theater. Whether manned fighter or remotely operated drone, each aircraft had a computer generated icon following its every movement. Likely due to the lack of tracking telemetry, neither the antagonistic aliens nor the apparently malevolent forces garnered a symbol. However, computer-generated icons tracked each of these new vessels.
Now, four more ships shot into view, bringing the icon count to eight. Moving incredibly fast, the octet of thin silver discs diverged. With instantaneous course changes, they turned onto eight discrete paths. It appeared each vessel's approach angle would ultimately converge on the enemy fleet. However, a wedge-shaped fighter-analogue in the spherical formation appeared to block the inbound path of each silver disc. Just as Sandy recognized the threat to the apparently allied ships, the approaching discs reversed direction. Not believing what she'd just seen, Sandy blinked her eyes. One moment, they'd been screaming toward the battle, the next, they blasted away from the formation in an instantaneous course reversal.
Sandy recognized the fighters from Jake's description. Pointing at the icons, she turned to the major standing next to her. "Are those the fighters that shot down the ship over Chesapeake Bay?"
The major nodded.
The two groups of four ships were labeled Vampire Alpha and Vampire Bravo. The emblems rushing outbound passed a new solo icon labeled Vampire Six. Heading inbound, it passed between the eight symbols of Alpha and Bravo Wings. An instant later, it too reversed course, following the other ships upward, away from the formation.
Several new icons popped into existence. Trailing thin fiery tails, a chain of silver missiles rushed inward. Labeled BB22 through BB29, the eight icons each flew straight toward the back of an allied fighter. A ninth symbol joined the onslaught. Labeled BB31, it too rushed toward the back of an allied fighter.
Sandy turned to the female major again. "Those have to be the nuclear bunker busters! Why are we shooting at the good guys?"
The general's aide held up a finger. "Watch."
As each of the lead missiles reached the back of the formation, the imperiled alien ship darted out of the way. As the missile passed, the ships slid back into position. Finally understanding, Sandy nodded. "The Argonian's are hiding their approach until the last possible moment."
Again, the major nodded. "Our fighters can avoid their lasers, but the missiles can't."
Rocket motors added to the incredible velocity the Vampire fighters had imparted upon the missiles. In the short seconds it took them to bridge the gap, every fighter in the ball-shaped formation continued to pour laser fire into the glowing oblong double-bubble.
The image flashed bright white as the first missile impacted the right side of the enemy formation. A split second later, three more nuclear detonations struck in short intervals. Overdriving the satellite's visual sensors, the strobing nuclear blasts completely washed out the image.
As the nuclear conflagration faded, Sandy saw the final fighter dart sideways, allowing the last missile, BB31, to pass.
The image flickered as the still receding satellite increased magnification. In an instant, the round formation of sleek black wedges blossomed from the center third of the display to completely fill it.
The right half of the glowing hourglass pulsed, then collapsed in another lightning storm of discharging energy. A second later, it disintegrated under a nuclear barrage as the sixth and seventh bunker busters slammed into it.
Sandy felt hope blossom as the sole ship's shield flickered. Still encapsulating the ship-remnant, it had taken on a teardrop-shape. Then, it collapsed completely as the eighth missile passed through it and into the massive ship. The final vessel disintegrated in the fire of the bunker buster's double nuclear assault.
While the final missile bore down on the last target, a hazy film slid across the image. As the satellite receded farther from the battle, the planet's curvature pushed the atmosphere into its field of view.
Just as the horizon of the Sahara Desert started obscuring the bottom of the battle, the missile slammed into the ship-remnant. Like the sun rising from behind an ocean of sand, a brilliant arc of golden light exploded from the enemy ship.
As the satellite's inertia carried the scene out of view, the Combat Command Center personnel broke into cheers, hugging and high-fiving one another.
Silently watching the golden orb set behind the western horizon, Sandy placed a hand on her abdomen.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
To Captain Giard's horror, light raced from the missile's point of impact without dissipating. Debilitating nausea and abdominal pain hammered Jake. To his side, Richard and Victor spasmed in obvious pain.
Jake placed an open palm against the view-wall. Through clenched teeth, he whispered, "God, please. No!"
His prayer for divine intervention went unheeded. Expanding at a preternaturally steady pace, the energy wave blazed across the battlefield. Inexorably, its abhorrent effulgence wrapped ship after ship in its vile embrace, quieting weapons, and setting vessels adrift.
Wide-eyed, Jake watched it reach for the Argonian Carrier Group. At the last moment, its battlecruisers tried to dart away from the advancing wave. However, the effect's speed eclipsed their drive's capability. Encapsulating the entire Argonian fleet, the wave reached its maximum range and faded to black. Minus their masters, the jumping battlecruisers lost all semblance of organization, each starting a slow tumble.
As the last plummeting molten asteroid disintegrated under its laser barrage, the massive carrier's beam fell silent, dying with the crew of its ship. Having stood its ground till the last, the huge Argonian carrier sat stationary, as if in silent vigil.
Beyond the Turtle's view-wall, surreal calm fell across the apocalyptic panorama. At its heart, the inexplicably intact grinning alien bust glared from the center of its attendant swarm of ghost-ships.
PART III
"O war! thou son of hell,
Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
Throw i
n the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly.
He that is truly dedicate to war
Hath no self-love, nor he that loves himself,
Hath not essentially but by circumstance
The name of valour."
― William Shakespeare
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
On his knees, Victor bent over and retched, then wrapped arms around himself. Staring at the floor, the junior officer started rocking back and forth repeating the same word. "No, no, no…"
Grimacing against the fire burning through his body and struggling to breathe, Jake leaned against the view-wall. He didn't want to accept the imagery streaming into his eyes. However, as if confirming the new reality's solidity, an abandoned Argonian fighter tumbled past. Apparently tossed from the battle, it narrowly missed colliding with the Turtle. Jake watched its slow-motion summersault in shocked silence.
Well beyond its target, the last bunker buster rocketed toward Earth's southwestern horizon, then flickered and disappeared, apparently self-destructing in a non-nuclear detonation.
"Damn it!" Richard growled as he punched the view-wall.
Dragging his eyes from the fighter, Jake looked at him. Glaring at the miraculously intact remnant of the enemy command ship, Richard shook his head. "Those fuckers need to die!"
As the weapon-induced nausea eased, Jake straightened and did a head-shake, trying to banish the mind-fogging shock. Blinking, he said, "Yes, they do."
Still kneeling, Victor continued his chant.
Clutching his gut, Richard looked at the lieutenant with evident disgust. Returning his attention beyond the view-wall, he pointed at the enemy ship. "Looks like Colonel Newcastle missed."
Jake shook his head. "He couldn't have. The missile was heading straight at it. Hell, I saw it hit." He traced the missile's fading smoke trail back to the enemy's command ship. It appeared to pass directly through the center of the alien visage.
Turning his attention back to his wingmen, Jake watched Richard look through the view-wall. Many of the emotions contorting his old flight schoolmate's face mirrored his own. Below him, Victor ceased his chanting and looked up. "I can't believe they're dead."
Richard's face hardened. "Well, they are," he said in a flat monotone.
Jake patted his shoulder. "Come on, Vic."
Taking the offered hand, the young officer stood. "What are we going to do, now?"
"We're going to fuck them up, that's what!" Richard snapped.
Lieutenant Croft flinched, then asked, "How are we—"
Richard spun on him. Eyes burning with anger, he looked ready to pummel Victor. "Goddamn it, Lieutenant! Stop your—"
Jake placed a hand on both men's shoulders. "Let's figure out what happened to that missile."
Victor looked back and forth. After a few seconds, Richard sighed and turned away.
Jake stepped to the holographic display and magnified the enemy ship. Vic watched in nervous silence as the alien vessel expanded. Rotating the display, Jake found his quarry. "Oh, shit."
Richard turned from the wall. "What?"
Jake slid the holographic rendering between them and looked at Richard through the hole the missile had bore through its center.
"It went right through," Vic whispered.
They stared in shocked silence. Then, all three flinched as the radio shattered the cabin's cemeterial silence. "Turtle One, this is Vampire Six. Please tell me y'all were clear of the blast zone."
Richard toggled the radio. "Roger, Six. We're…" he stopped and looked outside. Jake saw anger and worry mixed with self-loathing. Richard hated weakness, couldn't tolerate it, especially in himself. Ever since flight school, the man had been impatient with anyone that he felt didn't measure up. Closing his eyes, Richard took a deep breath, held it for a moment and let it out in a long exhalation. Eyes opening, he continued. "We're here, sir."
"Hang in there, Captain," Colonel Newcastle said, sympathy softening his Texas drawl. "We still have a job to do. This isn't over yet."
Jake patted Richard on the shoulder and stepped to the radio. "Sir, we're looking at a magnification of the enemy ship. Your missile punched right through."
Colonel Newcastle sighed. "I was afraid that might happen. It must be too hollowed-out. We have two more bunker busters. I'll change the nuke's settings and take it out."
Jake checked the dead Argonian fleet. The sight of its ships drifting farther apart generated an epiphany. "Colonel, if that thing falls into the ocean, tsunamis will flood Europe and the Eastern Seaboard. Plus, your nuke's EM pulses will fry half the world's financial networks."
After a long pause, the colonel said, "You're right, but if those bastards get anywhere near the surface, millions of lives will be at stake. We have to use the nukes."
Jake looked at the enemy ship. It appeared to glare at him. Below, the massive carrier still maintained its silent vigil. Jake toggled the radio again. "But, sir, if that thing drops into the ocean intact—"
"Damn it, Captain!" Newcastle interrupted. "I'm aware of that, but we're out of options here. So, unless you have a better idea—"
"I do, sir."
"You do, what, Captain?"
"Have a better idea, sir."
Richard and Vic looked at him. The radio speaker crackled. "I'm all ears, Captain."
After another look outside, Jake took a deep breath and toggled the radio. "The ship hasn't moved since the attack. Everybody onboard might be dead. At the very least, they have to be seriously degraded. Between your attack over the Chesapeake and the pummeling they've taken here, they must be cooked and battered." Jake looked at his wristwatch. "Sir, we have forty-one minutes before he can fire his weapon again. Let us probe the ship. If we can find a way onboard, we can sweep through and mop up any survivors."
Richard smiled, but Victor's face was a study in abject horror.
"Captain, I appreciate your out-of-the-box thinking, but, last I checked, the Turtle is an unarmed ship. Besides, how do you propose to get on that thing?"
"Actually, sir, we procured some weapons in Maryland."
"Okay, Captain." The colonel sounded less dubious. When he again asked how he planned to get onboard, Jake thought he heard hope creeping into Newcastle's voice.
Jake manipulated the hologram. The Zoxyth ship already filled most of the display, but he was interested in a specific part. After a quick adjustment, he stood back and pointed into the hole left by the unexploded bunker buster.
"Sir, your missile cut a tunnel all the way through the enemy ship. Let us investigate it. If we can't find our way onboard before time runs out, we'll back off and let you nuke it."
Still hugging himself, Victor paced back and forth. Smiling predatorily, Richard nodded his agreement.
After a long pause, Newcastle's voice returned with a tone of admiration. "I like how you think, Captain. For now, we'll move in hot with cannons and conventional missiles. While we attack from the front, you and your team move in from the rear. The Turtle will keep you safe. It has the same maneuvering capability as the Argonian fighters and should have no problem evading enemy laser fire, should it come."
"Yes, sir."
"We'll buy you as much time to recon as we can, but, if it comes down to it, I'll use the nukes." After a meaningful pause, he added, "Whether or not you and your team are still onboard."
Staring at the floor, Vic took a deep breath. Then, apparently reining in his fear, he looked at Jake and nodded. Richard nodded, as well.
"Roger, Six. We'll reconnoiter and report back to you as soon as possible."
"Make it less than forty minutes, please."
"Will do, sir."
"Good hunting, gentlemen. Vampire Six, out."
The holographic display showed his fighters splitting into pairs. The formation rocketed past the enemy ship. Setting up well to its front, they turned inbound.
Jake looked outside and saw them fire their smaller missiles, pinpoin
ts of light racing toward the enemy ship. Unfortunately, lasers fired back at the space fighters. In the hologram, he watched them easily evade each shot.
Jake reached into the flight controller. "Ready, gentlemen?"
"Ready boss," Richard said.
He turned to Lieutenant Croft. "Hanging in there, buddy?"
"Yes, sir. I'm ready," he managed nervously.
Jake nodded and turned his attention outside. Before hesitation allowed doubts to creep in, he activated the controller and the Turtle blasted toward the enemy ship.
***
"Curse these Argonians!" Salyth screamed, firing again. Once more, the targeted ship darted out of the beam's path. Without the rest of the ship's weapons, he couldn't send the full barrage needed to overwhelm the annoying tactic.
He hadn't expected to live long enough to cherish his victory over the Galactic Defense Forces. Following his activation of the gene weapon, a tremendous crash had shaken the ship. He had closed his eyes, expecting that when he opened them he'd be surrounded by the Forebearers' grateful faces. Instead, when the weapon's luminosity faded, only the traitorous officer's dead eyes greeted him.
A quick review of available systems showed a path of destruction cut through the ship's center. The missile assigned to send him to the Forebearers had passed completely through his asteroid. Bulkhead doors had preserved the atmosphere. Power supply still worked, but a surge had knocked part of the drive system offline. While it still countered the planet's gravity, its stalled motivator left him dead in the water. Given enough time, it could be brought back online. Also, the gene weapon was recharging, but he didn't think he'd survive long enough to use either.
Salyth fired another volley at a pair of incoming ships. They darted out of the beam's path. The commodore roared with frustration. "Don't toy with me! Kill me, you backwoods Argonians! I've fought with honor, now send me to the Forebearers."