by Nate Johnson
Twelve, single man vessels. Small darts packing a solid punch.
“This is Pine. We’ve picked up the crews of the Merchants,” the beacon tender’s skipper said, interrupting his study of the darts.
“Thank you, Pine,” Mac said. “Go ahead and fall back to your assigned position.”
The Pine acknowledged their orders and started slowing down to let the fleet pass her by. Mac smiled to himself. The skipper of the beacon tender had begged to be included in the initial attack. The Mesquite had been her sister ship. She had a special need for revenge.
But Mac had refused to allow himself to be swayed. The ship wasn’t configured for this kind of fight. Better that she hold back and pick up survivors from distressed vessel.
He had a sinking feeling that the Pine was going to be busier than any of them before the day was done.
Now it was just a matter of waiting. Watching and waiting.
Sighing, he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes as he thought through the plan.
It would depend upon how the Scraggs reacted, he thought. It could all have been a waste. Or it could work like a champ. They wouldn’t know for an hour.
Folding his arms across his chest he waited. Watching the numbers. Silently measuring the distance between the two groups of ships. Ticking off the miles with every second.
At last, the interminable waiting was broken with the crackle of Commander Hall’s radio. “Point One moving into position.”
“Roger,” Mac said simply.
Because the small darts and rocks were traveling at virtually the same speed, the small ships were able to simply push them aside and stick their nose through the rock wall.
Suddenly, twelve new views of the enemy were available on his monitor. Mac enlarged Commander Halls view. It was direct on and provided a better aspect than York’s.
“Thirty-Two, this is Point One.” Commander Hall’s voice broke the silence. “It looks like one of them is breaking out of orbit.”
“Yes, headed straight for you,” Mac said. “Your weapons are free, but hold your fire as long as possible, let the bastard get close.”
“Roger, Sir.”
Mac held his breath as he watched the alien ship approach. Just like in the vids from the Mesquite, it was sleek. Long, narrow without any antennas or protrusions on the hull.
She’d broken orbit without any obvious engine thrust. Interesting. Something he would have to keep in mind. What kind of propulsion were they using? Did they have Higgs engines? If so, could they breach a wormhole?
Before, he could delve into the issue any further. An intense blue light lit up the screen.
“Damn,” Commander Hall said. “My ...”
A small flash of a yellow explosion lit each monitor in the control room as Commander Hall’s ship ceased to exist.
Mac swore under his breath and swallowed an angry growl. Focus, he reminded himself.
“Point One, Fire,” Lieutenant Commander Jarvis, the second in command of the Task Group, yelled into his radio.
The crackle from his radio had barely ended before eleven shiny steel spherical balls appeared in space. Each weighed exactly twenty-four pounds and was traveling at close to Mach fourteen as soon as they left the end of the railgun. Close to ten thousand miles per hour.
Each one was on a collision course with the alien craft.
Within a few seconds. Another group of spheres appeared, each following the same track as the previous shot.
The second round was a complete waste. In fact, it might be said that the first round was a bit of overkill.
The Enemy ship tried to blast the incoming shells but quickly found its lasers were useless against such highly reflective material. Besides, even if it did burn through. The beam would encounter solid steel.
Seeing its ineffectiveness, the ship started to pull away and up. But it was too late.
The first shot hit the vessel just to the port of the forward nose and exited out the starboard aft quarter. Leaving a wake of death and destruction in its path.
The remaining shots from the initial firing peppered the vessel like a shotgun taking down a duck. It didn’t stand a chance.
Mac watched with satisfaction as the other vessel died a quick death.
The second group of shells pounded into the dead vessel with small pops when they entered, followed quickly with small outward explosions when they exited.
Several hundred feet, Mac thought, there might have been thousands of those aliens on the ship. Hundreds at least. He wondered briefly if any of them were still alive.
“Maneuvering?” Mac called out. “Will we miss that vessel?” The last thing he needed was the fleet having to move themselves around a dead hulk of a ship. They’d be out of position for the next round.
“Just a second, sir, we are working the numbers,” a young officer from the front of the room said.
A long heavy pause hung in the air, each man knew how difficult it would be if they had to move everyone.
“No, Sir,” the voice said strong and clear so that the entire room could hear. “The Fleet will pass well above the vessel. Some of the rock wall might catch it, but we should be fine.”
“Good,” was all Mac said as he turned back to examine the enemy.
Finally, it seemed, they were taking the matter seriously. What did it take? he wondered. The complete destruction of one of their ships to get their attention.
As he watched, each of the enemy’s ships was slowly climbing out of orbit. One at a time, pulling themselves into a long line. Heading up and away from the planet.
He did a quick mental calculation.
The wall might get three or four if they didn’t hurry.
It was a race against orbital mechanics as the gray gravel wall traveled closer and closer. The planet's gravity was holding the ships back just enough.
“Yes,” he said as he pumped his fist as the upper edge of the racing wall caught the four to last vessels in line.
It was like a broom sweeping a pile of dirt into the blackness of space. At first, there were four ships, then there were a million little pieces of ships. All wrapped up in a swirling dust cloud.
Five down, Twenty-two to go, he thought.
Mac knew that most of the wall would travel on into space. Probably eventually falling into the sun. Admiral Weber should be able to move his transports into position without incident.
He smiled to himself. The wall had done its job. It had forced the aliens to break out of orbit. Clearing a path for the Marines to get down on the ground.
“Point One, peel off and enter orbit to provide cover for Task Group Point Two. Admiral Weber can use you. You’ll never be able to catch up to their fleet from there. Not without a long stern chase.”
“Yes, Sir,” the new commander of the dart ships said. “Point Two, this is Point One. We will fall into orbit and come in around behind you.”
“Roger, Point One,” Admiral Weber said. “It will be nice to have you with us.”
Mac tuned them out for a moment and addressed his staff.
“Plot a course to intercept,” he instructed. “I want to cross their T. I doubt that they will let us. But it’s a good starting point.”
Several men bent over their monitors and started furiously working the numbers. While they worked, he looked over to Doctor Sinclair.
“Any insights?” he asked.
Her face was as white as a Siska bunny in the dead of winter.
“Um, No.”
“Really? Anything?” he asked, desperate for anything that could give him an edge.
She paused for a moment as her brow creased. “They seem slow?”
“Slow?” he asked with confusion.
“Not slow to act, but slow to understand. Does that make any sense?” she asked with a shrug of her shoulders.
He nodded, yes it did, things had gone better than he had thought they would. One small dart, with one brave man gone. But the enemy had lost five lar
ge ships with thousands of crew.
He knew that if he had been in their position, he would have played it differently. He would have broken orbit earlier. Given himself some maneuvering room.
It really seemed like these guys had no idea what they were up against.
Well, good. It was nice to know that they were in the same boat as him. Fighting blind in a dark room the size of a large solar system with weapons that could destroy cities.
Yes, this was long from over, he thought.
Chapter Eight
Sergeant Dex Carter pulled his straps down tight and said a silent prayer. It was one of those rituals he performed before every drop. He told himself that he did it to settle his nerves. But if he delved deeply, he did it because he hoped that if there was a God, he might look kindly on him and his men.
Besides, it couldn’t hurt.
Leaning into the straps, he tried to look down the line at his platoon. Daniels was mumbling under his breath. Cheevers had a focused scowl that could have peeled paint from the bulkhead. Most of the men had their heads back, eyes closed.
They were ready, he thought. As ready as they could be, dropping into the unknown.
Glancing over his shoulder, he looked forward to Captain Andrews and Sergeant Puller locked in conversation with First Lieutenant Munro. The three of them were probably going over the deployment details for the tenth time.
Counting his breaths, Dex settled into his seat and focused on trying to relax. There wasn’t much he could do at this point. They were trapped in this metal tube until they got onto the ground. Best to just let it go. Let the worry and fear flow over him like a stream over a rock.
A heavy clunk reverberated through the shuttle as she dropped from the transport. He reached up and pulled his faceplate into place. A dozen clicks next to him let him know his men were doing the same.
The shuttle surged forward, then twisted away from its mothership. Within a few seconds, the fiery orange glow of reentry began to show at the edges of the portal.
They continued to fall. The gravity slamming into their butts and backs as the shuttle slowed. Dex held his breath as he waited for the ship to regain control of flight surfaces. Once they kicked in, the shuttle became a machine and stopped being a falling hunk of metal.
The voice next to him broke through his attempt to shut out everything around him.
“Finally,” Jones said with a long sigh.
Dex scoffed but kept quiet.
The ship made a long slow bank to the right as the RAM engine kicked in. Dex caught a quick flash of one of the other shuttles. Three machines, one for each company. Each with enough extra room for the battalion HQ staff.
Three hundred and thirty three men dropping out of the sky.
Gripping his rifle, he went over his instructions. Second Company had been assigned the far right of the valley. By the stream. They were to dig in and await instructions.
His men could do that in their sleep. It still didn’t answer the question of what they would find when they got there.
A flash of bright blue was followed immediately by a distant explosion. The shuttle rocked to the side as the pressure wave caught and lifted a wing.
“What the ...?” Someone yelled.
“Oh God, they’re gone,” Daniels said under his breath as he stared out of the window. “Alpha company’s shuttle. It’s gone.”
“What!” a dozen different men asked?
Dex could feel the panic beginning to rise in his men. His own stomach felt as if it were twisted into a tight knot. Had they really lost their sister Company? A hundred men gone, just like that. Wiped out as if they had never existed. He thought of Corporal Josh Stevens. They’d gone through boot camp together. They’d humped packs over the mountains on Aurora. Gotten drunk together in Valeria.
Was he really gone, just like that?
“Hold on guys,” he said over the platoon radio frequency. “Just hold on. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
The rushing voices and panicked exclamations began to settle down.
Feeling like there they were getting themselves under control again, he twisted to look up forward when the inside of the shuttle was lit up with a brilliant blue light.
“Nooooo!” someone screamed as they were pulled from the ship and into the high atmosphere five miles above the surface of the planet.
Dex’s insides turned to jelly as he watched a giant hole appear towards the forward end of the ship.
Captain Andrews, Sergeant Puller, all of them were gone. The far bulkhead was painted red with blood and guts of Imperial Marines. Men unlucky enough to be in the way of an alien laser.
Where before, his superiors had readied themselves for battle. Now nothing existed but a gaping hole and broken bodies.
Air rushed from the shuttle as it twisted and began to dive towards the ground. Weaving back and forth like a pendulum hanging in the sky.
The sudden acceleration slammed him back into the seat. Holding him in place like a giant hand wrapped around his throat. He huffed and forced his muscles to push his blood to his core. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not like this.
They had a mission. A job. They couldn’t die before they got a chance. No. This was impossible.
Nobody had said anything about anti-air capability. Why hadn’t they known about this crap? Dex fought desperately to bring his brain back to reality. This was so screwed up. Dropping into an environment where you didn’t know what they were facing. Where was the Navy? They were supposed to take out threats like this before the shuttles dropped. It was ridiculous.
The edges of his vision began to turn black as he felt the world closing in on him.
The shuttle swung to the far left then began to level off as the pilot fought to bring it back under control. Dex could feel the wings biting into the thicker air.
“Please God, please God,” he begged under his breath. “Help him.”
As his vision began to clear, Dex pounded his helmet shielded head back into his chair to try and clear the final cobwebs.
He shifted over to the company frequency and said. “Hold on guys. Prepare for a hard landing.”
The words had no sooner left his lips than a huge mountain range flashed by in the window.
They were close, he thought. Now it was just a question. Would they land or crash? The difference between walking away to finish their mission, or spreading themselves over a barren field in a million pieces.
Whatever was going to happen, they were going to know soon, he thought as he lifted his legs and prepared for what was coming.
.o0o.
Alicia Miller stood in the middle of the road and stared in disbelief. Three weeks of nothing. Not a word. Not a sighting. And now, marching down the road toward them were over fifty rat- like aliens.
The aliens marched in formation, their long rifles held on their shoulders as if they were in a parade on Taurus.
The rumors and stories were true. Her guts turned into a solid rock of fear as the otherness of the creatures struck her. There long snout like faces. Their hard armor. They were not of this world or any other humanity had ever found.
She wondered if all of the stories had been true. Suddenly, she realized that there was nothing to stop them. Nothing between them and certain death.
Twisting, she yelled, “Run!”
The people around her looked at her with bewildered brows creased in confusion. She could tell they were wondering what the hell she was yelling about. Run? Run where?
It wasn’t as if they had a castle to hide in.
Alicia silently cursed herself. Why hadn’t they spent the time preparing? Why hadn’t she made them build walls to hide behind?
Because you never really believed it was true. She answered herself. No way could there be aliens bent on destroying her and her people.
Finally forcing her feet to move, she started grabbing people and pushing them back towards the village.
Mrs. Stockton looked at her with
a lost, confused expression.
“Hurry,” Alicia said as she pushed at her shoulder. “Get the others. To the schoolhouse.”
It was the only thing she could think of. The walls were made of brick. It was the village shelter in the event of violent storms. When the late summer winds tore down the valley, the village would gather behind the strong walls and wait them out. Emerging only when they were over to pick up the damage.
Stephan, she thought. Where was he?
“Stephan,” she called as she twisted around, her eyes searching for her brother. Where was he? Her mother would kill her if anything happened to the boy.
“Stephan,” she yelled again as she glanced towards the approaching aliens. They were drawing ever nearer. Coming on relentlessly. Seconds, that was all she had, seconds.
Her heart raced as she frantically searched for her brother.
Alicia froze at what she saw. The alien formation broke up into individuals as they started running after them, grabbing people and throwing them to the ground hard enough to make them bounce.
A sharp high pitched scream drew her attention. Mrs. Stevens was being dragged away. The aliens had broken up and were individually chasing villagers. One of them was pulling Glenda Steven along the ground by her leg. Her long cotton dress had bunched up, revealing a white, fat thigh.
One of them unstrapped his weapon and pointed it towards a fleeing older man, Mr. Diamond, she thought.
A blue streak of light caught the man squarely between the shoulder blades, knocking him to the ground. A small whiff of smoke rising from his singed clothes.
All of this happened in a flash. The images registering in the blink of an eye.
Alicia felt the bile in her stomach begin to rise. He was dead. Mr. Diamond was dead. Her world was gone. Where was Stephan? She had to find Stephan.
“Nooooo.” A voice yelled, sending a cold chill down her spine.
There, in the far distance, an alien had Stephan by the collar of his shirt. Holding him up so that his feet barely touched the ground.
“No,” Stephan yelled again as he swung and kicked at his attacker.
Alicia’s heart fell to the ground as she began to run towards her brother. All she could see was the beast taking her brother from her. All she could think about was taking him back. She had no idea how, but she couldn’t let her brother be taken from her.