by Mark Iles
“Good,” she replied. “Send that signal warning to the fleet about the nest ship now. I want it on continuous loop. The Manta will have seen us by now, they’ll know we’re here and it’s just a matter of time before they come for us. We have to get that message out, while we still can.”
“I tell you what,” Singh offered cheerfully. “Let’s open a sweepstake on how long it takes them to attack!” Then he glanced at the others’ faces and subsided. “Okay, maybe not,” he mumbled.
No one knew for sure when they would be noticed, although several theories had raged. Van Pluy himself had suggested they’d most likely be seen breaking away from the meteor cloud, but he’d just been proven wrong. Even discharging the weapons didn’t appear to have given them away.
Selena tapped at her controls until all the bulkheads, deck-heads and decks changed into view screens, showing real time space all around them including underneath their feet. It was as if they were sitting in a transparent bubble drifting through space while gazing out at a universe rushing by. The meteor cloud was just a receding threat now, with a few out-runners at which the ships weapon systems barked and beamed at occasionally, when they ventured too close.
In the silence of the control room, everyone was concentrating on their jobs, except Arthur, who was occasionally glancing at Za’an out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t stop thinking about killing the man. But how? That was the question. He favoured giving him a lingering and painful death; but the chances of that were somewhat remote and whatever he did it had to be before they returned home; otherwise questions would be raised that he might not want to answer. Here, during the battle? He’d love to be able to just walk up and stab the guy in the back of the neck or slit his throat, but he’d made that promise to the Commander and he was a man of his word. His only regret was Samantha, God she was gorgeous. After the loss of his wife, he thought he could never love another woman, but how wrong he’d been. A mixture of shame and amazement swept through him, a sheer turmoil of confusion. Would his wife have felt betrayed, or delighted, that he loved again?
“We’re at maximum thrust, Commander,” Bryn said. He’d loved to see what they looked like from the outside of the ship, streaking towards the enemy planet with a brilliant trail of fire pointing away from the sun.
“Samantha, are you sending that message?” Selena asked.
“Yes, Commander,” Sam replied, double checking it included all the details of the Lexington and downloads from the Scott, praying it would be picked up. That was all she could do, apart from ensure the message was transmitted on continuous loop.
“Lieutenant Clayton, confirm there’s no deviation from our course so far?”
“All’s well, Ma’am.”
“Singh, go and prepare the lifeboat.”
“Yes, Commander.” Singh unstrapped himself, put a hand on Bryn’s shoulder, squeezed and then climbed to his feet and left the bridge without another word.
“Kes, Za’an, close down all internal hatches except those to the lifeboat; prime and power up all weapon systems. It’s time to upset the bad guys.”
Red lights flashed on Bryn’s control panel, indicating that while hatches throughout the ship had closed and locked, those at either end of the ladder up to the lifeboat had remained opened. The compartments that had been sealed were now filling with a toxin known to be lethal to the Manta but harmless to them. The bare metal ladder rose from one side of the room up through the deck-head and continued into a tunnel that led to the lifeboat two decks above them. It was now their only path to freedom, there was no other way out of the ship. Bryn swallowed and glanced at it, unable to help himself. “Two hours to impact, Commander.”
“We haven’t that much time. We must be able to do something to increase speed, give her all she’s got.”
“We’re red-lining now, Ma’am. The engines will blow.”
Selena glared at him. “I really don’t give a fuck, Lieutenant. As long we hit the bloody planet they can tap dance to music for all I care.”
“She has a point,” Kes said, smirking. “We’re already confirmed for impact. It’s just a case of how soon we get there.”
Bryn glanced at him. “About time you dyed your hair again, isn’t it?”
The ship barrelled through the solar system; her weapon systems beginning to bark more and more often as they took out all obstacles in their path.
“Still no sign of enemy activity,” Meths reported. “From what I can see, they have mainly medium and long range scanners, we’re jamming them and, with luck, they won’t be able to tell what’s happening until it’s too late, unless one of their ships spots us coming in. We’ve been extremely lucky so far.”
Selena’s eyes widened. Meths had said “we”: the computer considered herself part of the team! She looked at Arthur who stared calmly back at her, as if knowing what was in her thoughts. What had he done, this genius of hers? Had he actually found a way to make a computer really care about the crew and to want to be one of them; somehow given Meths a real personality? They had always been told this was impossible, that such things couldn’t happen. But as their eyes locked, Selena paused, a question on her lips, had he, and if so how? She shrugged it off, knowing these were questions for another time.
“Arthur, go help Singh. You can run the ship’s computers from up there.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Oops, forget my last,” the computer added. “There are signs of hostile activity on the moons: missiles incoming from all satellite stations.”
“This is it,” Bryn said, taking a firm grip of the U-shaped control, his brow furrowing with concentration. “The shit’s really hit the fan now.”
“Oh, my God, look at that!” Sam shouted, staring at the screens and the clouds of missiles hurtling towards them.
“Open fire and take them out!” Selena commanded.
“Complying,” Meths replied and fire leapt from the ship towards the incoming projectiles.
Za’an’s fingers danced over his controls and all the remaining turrets rose from their hiding places and joined the battle. Swarms of missiles rippled from the Dutch Lady in defensive fire and then they were gone, like a wave of startled birds.
“They’re launching fighters,” Meths reported, as the vessels swept towards them in arrow and diamond formations.
“What, the battle-stations are launching fighters? I thought Van Pluy said they wouldn’t have any, but the moons probably would?” Za’an queried.
“That’s what’s called bullshitting. The Commodore couldn’t know and, if anything, he was guessing. Either that or he was just being nice and saying it to reassure us,” Selena replied with a chuckle. “Heads up guys, here they come!”
Meths, Za’an and Kes’s weapons laced into the enemy, taking a terrible toll, as the Dutch Lady passed the battle stations and arrowed towards the enemy world with its shield of protective moons. Each time they hit an enemy vessel it vanished in puffs of blinding light. It was obvious that the small fighters lacked the advanced shields of their much larger cousins and the crew thanked all the gods they knew of that no heavier ships had attacked them, yet.
They heard a slight coughing noise from somewhere in the Dutch Lady and three small brilliant objects left the ship and headed for the nearest moons, and an incoming formation of ships. Two of the outgoing objects sped up to incredible speeds and shot through the oncoming vessels, while the third slowed and then burst amid the ships with white blinding intensity, destroying them all utterly. As the remaining two objects gathered speed, they split into hundreds of smaller pieces, all of which selected targets and slammed into them. Mushroom clouds boiled and rose from the moons, destroying airfields, weapon emplacements, power grids and entire cities. Then one of the moons cracked and fell apart; chunks of molten rock fell towards the enemy world and lit its sky with streams of flame. Then came what sounded like a long draw-out burp and hundreds more of the small objects left the ship and flew towards the other enemy moon
s, their MIRV warheads separating some distance away, before striking and obliterating their targets.
“Wow,” Samantha said, awestruck. “Nothing could possible live through that, surely.”
“Each of those MIRVs is twenty-five times more powerful than the bomb that destroyed Bradbury city, on Mars,” Za’an remarked. “Hell’s finally come knocking on Manta’s door.”
Several of the weapons had stopped dead in space and scattered their myriad warheads, each floating around like mines, and as groups of fighters came near them they detonated, decimating the enemy ships.
“Destroyers,” Meths warned, as three fresh and much larger vessels sped towards them.
“They don’t look right, almost as if they’re unfinished,” Kes observed.
“Battered looking; I’d say they’re refurbished ships from that old battle group the Admiralty’s been so concerned about,” Bryn added. “If that’s the case, we might be having more of an effect on the enemy fleet than we think.”
“Either that or their population is increasing so much they need more ships, and those relics are all they have left,” Selena replied.
“Cheerful, aren’t you,” Bryn riposted.
“There are another two vessels approaching,” Meths reported, “a destroyer and one light cruiser. Both are more modern than the previous ships, by the look of them. That’s four destroyers and one cruiser in all, plus those damn fighters.”
The first three destroyers closed and opened fire once they were in range, and the sky was filled with a myriad brilliant rainbow beams laden with death and brilliant balls of flame from exploding missiles and fighters.
Za’an and Kes were intent on their weapons systems, firing at target after target.
One, then two of the older destroyers exploded from multiple strikes but the third kept firing, despite taking a hammering through its weakened defences.
There was a sudden loud beeping and Samantha shouted, “That’s torn it, our number three shield’s down!”
Instantly the enemy fire began to take its toll of the surface. The defensive guns still took out the missiles but the enemy beams were now hitting home and destroying their defensive capability. Then other large enemy ships began appearing and joined in with the battle.
“Can’t we increase speed?” Selena demanded.
“We’re at full throttle now, Ma’am,” Bryn replied.
“They’re on the surface of the ship,” Arthur informed them, through the speakers. “Some of their ships have gotten through and landed.” At his command, one of the screens changed to show the Dutch Lady’s frozen outer shell, where the Manta vessels could be seen landing and disgorging bugs draped in protective suits. They watched in dread and fascination as the enemy stalked the surface, looking for a way in.
“Ugly fuckers, aren’t they?” Kes noted, raking them with fire from several of the many Gatling turrets.
But more and more of them were filing from the alien craft and returning fire at the weapon emplacements.
“Guys,” Za’an said thoughtfully, “if they’re letting their troops off, won’t they have to drop their shields to do so?”
There was a moment’s silence from Kes and Za’an and then the guns retargeted. Rounds of ammunition and powerful beams slammed into the enemy ships, blowing them to smithereens. The countless explosions didn’t even make the Dutch Lady wobble, but the shrapnel from the exploding ships sliced through the enemy ranks, like a scythe through corn, heavily depleting their numbers.
Then alarms burst into life, their clamour deafening.
“Commander,” Arthur said, “we have fires on levels Five India through to Five Lima and they’re spreading fast.”
“If those compartments are still sealed, vent them.”
“We’ve lost the ability to do that, Commander. Nor can we drench them; the water tanks have burst and flooded the lower decks, so there’s no fire-main pressure. In fact we’ve no fire fighting capability at all now, and that toxic gas designed to kill the enemy is actually feeding the flames. You’d think someone would have investigated that risk.”
“They probably did,” Bryn said, “and no doubt thought it was worth taking.”
“Look, Arthur, you’re the bloody genius around here, you deal with it,” Selena snapped, before closing her eyes in frustration. “Meths, turn those damn fire alarms off!”
There were more coughs as further MIRVs were fired at the moons. They watched enthralled, as the enemy cities glittering on the surface blossomed into flame and blinding light as they were annihilated.
“Arthur, what’s the news on those fires?”
“I can contain them for a short while, Commander, but that’s about it, I’m afraid. They’ll soon be out of control and then we’ll lose the ship.”
“How long have we got?”
“About forty minutes, long enough to get the job done.”
Za’an and Kes sat at their controls, brows knitting as they focused on the enemy ships arcing towards them. The others stared in wonder at the battle raging on the screens all around them: it was as if they were outside, floating in space and could see everything that was happening.
“We’ve been lucky so far,” Bryn observed. “They must have been expecting the whole fleet to attack, not a sneak attack like ours. Their primary defence ships must be still out on the fringes of their solar system, holding back and expecting our main fleet to come in at any time. Meths, can you see anything?”
“There are more enemy vessels appearing all the time, Lieutenant, and they’re coming quickly. I’d say that they’ve finally realised we’re the only ship here. It’s lucky for us they can’t jump into the inner system itself, just the same as we couldn’t.”
There was a loud, distant bang and they all glanced towards where the noise was coming from.
“The bugs have just broken in through airlock two,” Meths reported.
The screens changed to show the beasts lumbering down the corridors, poison gas whipping away behind them into the vacuum of space. Alien weapons spat fire at the heavily armoured hatches still closed against them, and at the weapon mounted video cameras that raked and hammered at their numbers.
“Shields five and two are down,” Arthur reported. “And number three’s just gone too, this time for good.”
“Terrific. Time to impact?”
“Twenty seven minutes,” Bryn replied.
Samantha’s fingers twitched as she pitched in and helped by juggling the ship’s power supply; draining it here, adding it there, and redistributing it among the surviving weapon systems and shields. Her stomach was a huge knot, a thin film of sweat coating her top lip and brow.
The heavy firing from the surviving moons and rapidly increasing number of enemy ships ceased suddenly, allowing their swarms of fighters to close in. Once again the Dutch Lady shuddered with explosions. More red lights blinked and klaxons began to wail.
“I know,” Meths began, as Selena opened her mouth. “Cut the racket.”
“All shields are down, Commander,” Arthur reported. “There’s nothing more we can do. We’re finished, that’s it, I’m afraid.”
“Za’an, weapons?”
“Not many left and with the shields down we’ll lose the last of them soon, but at least the enemy have stopped firing at us; which means more of the Manta have landed on the surface and they don’t want to injure or kill their own troops.”
“Meths, have we got definite target acquisition yet?”
“A couple more minutes, Commander, that’s all. Then nothing can stop us.”
Selena glanced at the screens that showed countless bugs marching through the gleaming white corridors, burning down the pressure hatches with their rifle-like beam-weapons. Suddenly she recognised exactly where the enemy were. “Yea gods, they’re only a few decks away!”
“Impact with Mantis is now locked in,” Meths reported. “Nothing can stop this ship now, Commander. It’s time for you all to get out of here, while you still c
an.”
“That’s it team, let’s go – move it!”
Za’an position himself by the hatch that led into the bridge, his hand resting on the handle of the whip knife, which he unfurled from his belt. In his other hand he held a pistol. A grim smile was playing over his lips as the others hurriedly unstrapped themselves behind him and scrambled up the ladder to the escape hatch, and then on towards the lifeboat. Selena shouted at Za’an and told him to go. But only when there was only the Commander and himself remaining did Za’an holster his weapons and turn to climb up the ladder to the lifeboat waiting for them.
Selena followed him, but before she left the compartment she paused and turned, saying, “Thank you, Meths.”
The computer’s reassuring voice followed her up the ladder as the hatch sealed shut behind her. “You’re welcome, Commander. Good luck. It’s been a pleasure serving with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Singh fidgeted, fretting as he waited for the others to strap themselves in, watching in relief as Selena finally climbed up the ladder that led from the control room and the door sealed then dogged electronically behind her. She ran the last few yards to the lifeboat and climbed onboard, taking her place beside the others, even as the ship’s hatch snapped shut and sealed them all in. Bryn settled into his customary place by the side of his friend and adjusted his bandana, as one by one the lights confirmed they were ready.
“Let’s get out of here,” Selena ordered. “Lieutenant Clayton, it’s your show now.”
“Hold on to your hats,” Bryn whooped, remotely blowing the outside hatch wide open, so it flew out into space. “Here we go!”
The small craft lifted and turned to face the hatch now open to the fierce fight going on outside as Meths continued the rearguard action, engaging the enemy with the few turrets that remained functional.
Back on the bridge, the computer watched as the sealed hatch to the main corridor outside the bridge began to glow first a dull orange and then a cherry red. Vermillion liquid metal began to trickle and then run, like hot blood, to the deck. Then, with a deafening clang, the hatch finally fell into the room and three grotesque forms lumbered in, weapons ready and eyes scanning for life.