Unable to do anything else, the humans flew on. The Lurker interceptors continued to separate from the heavy fighters, crawling into missile range. They began their bombardment. It was cautious for now, but the human ships were too low on missiles to put up a vigorous defense, obliging them to maneuver even more to gain favorable angles on the enemy rockets. Within another two minutes, they would run out completely, leaving them with nothing left but kinetics and their last-ditch weak countermeasures of flares, fizz, and chaff.
Tactical started bawling again. Rada didn't even look at it before she wrenched the Silence into the start of a ninety-degree turn. The last asteroid was the shape of a smaller egg grafted onto the side of a larger egg. Rada barely had a chance to frown at its resemblance to a set of mismatched testicles before Mat-Nalin detonated the rock.
Both eggs exploded outward in a double-barreled shot. A metallic bang echoed through the cabin of the Silence. Rada ducked and threw her arms over her head, as if were an asteroid to strike her skull this would somehow protect her rather than leaving her arms just as obliterated as her brain.
Pressure alarms blared—a piece of gravel had punched another hole through the ship. Somehow it hadn't hit anything vital, possibly due to the fact that she barely had any weapons left to be hit. The repair bots were already on top of it. Around her, four more human ships disintegrated.
The rocky field flew onward, shredding through the Lurkers behind them, claiming thirteen in a span of seconds. The others scattered, giving the human fleet another brief opportunity to put more space between them.
The Lurkers reconvened, still close to four hundred strong. They hung against the starscape, arrayed behind the human ships like a sword dangling from a thread.
In a single coordinated maneuver, the entire alien fleet executed a hard turn outward from the Belt.
"Opposite heading," Admiral Vance said across the fleet-wide channel. "This might not be a retreat. Continue full forward progress."
Rada yawed the Silence about so that its tail was pointed at those of the Lurkers. Space spread between them, more and more with each passing second until they were so far away that even the enemy's lasers would only show up as a dull glow against the hull.
Even so, Rada didn't take her eyes off the Lurker ships until they blended into the blackness, gone once more.
~
"Before anything else: you fought like warriors. You saved a lot of people today. Both your wingmates and countless citizens of the Belt. You stood against an alien menace—an invasion force that planned this attack for years, and spent years more flying from their home to ours—and you gave as good as you got. You should be proud of yourselves like you have never been proud before."
Admiral Vance's eyes glowed like lights in fog. He clasped his hands on the table in the bridge of the Ascent, his flagship, where he'd gathered them. "Yet let's look at things on a tactical level. We took out the Lurkers' carriers. We did real damage to their fleet. And we drove them off. After any other engagement like this, I'd be ordering you all to go out and get drunk. Then why does it feel like we don't have much to celebrate?"
His gray eyes swept across the table. His surviving squadron leaders were all there, along with the people the Belters and Dashers had decided, in a disorganized way that Rada didn't fully understand, were their version of officers. Winters was seated two spots down from her, Dark Solutions' only representative. Compared to the earthy, grubby Belters, and the high regalia of the Earth navy in their battle uniforms, Winters' black clothes and unremarkably handsome face made him look like a prototype of a person.
"It's real simple, Admiral," Mat-Nalin said. "We aren't celebrating because we didn't win. In fact, we got our asses kicked."
"We survived a direct action against a superior enemy." Vance's second, Vice Admiral Wilmena Orlon, stared at Mat-Nalin as if she was ready to flush him out an airlock. "While achieving our chief objective in the process. Maybe living out your lives in a pile of rocks has made you incapable of understanding a good thing when you see it, but where I come from, we just pulled off a major upset."
Mat-Nalin reddened. He uncurled his index finger and pointed it at Orlon. "Me and mine just saved your smug sun-worshipping asses. How about a 'thank you' before you go back to calling us uncultured rock-pickers?"
"If my description of your thinking offends you, the answer isn't to blame me. It's to fix your thinking."
"He's right," Rada said before things could get any worse. "What happened out there wasn't a victory."
Orlon turned on her. "This was your plan. Despite all odds, we executed it. The carriers are gone. Now you're saying it was a mistake?"
"Think about how we got close to the carriers. They practically gave us open lanes of approach."
"Like hell. They pursued us every mile of the way down those lanes."
"That gave them the chance to kill some of us. Besides, if they hadn't harried us, we'd have known something was up. They used the carriers as a lure to sucker us in. Even after they lost them both, they were still coming after us."
"Possibly because they were enraged that we'd just destroyed the cornerstone of their occupation strategy."
"If they were cornerstones, they wouldn't have left them in harm's way. We have to consider the possibility they weren't strategically vital after all."
Orlon slapped her palm on the desk. "That doesn't make any sense. When we first hit the carriers at Earth, the Lurkers were terrified. So much so that, despite being in position to destroy the UDL fleet to the last ship, they were so scared of losing the rest of their carriers that they left immediately. What does that tell you?"
"It tells me that they're aliens. How can any of us begin to know how they think?"
The vice admiral snorted. "You were supposed to be our Lurker expert."
"Then listen to me when I say I smell a rat."
The table fell silent, the only noise the rustling of uniforms as various officers exchanged looks.
"We have evidence to back her up," Winters said. "E-sig analysis of the carriers indicates that when we pressed toward them, they didn't retreat at full power. That's how you fly when you're acting as bait."
"Which leaves two real possibilities," Rada said. "Either the Lurkers decided to risk sacrificing two carriers in exchange for one of our fleets. Or we overestimated what the carriers were worth to them—and they exploited that fact to trap us."
"Assuming we can rely on them to have remotely human or rational motives."
"Yeah. Assuming that."
Orlon stared at the two of them. "Assume that Commander Pence is right, and that destroying the carriers hasn't crippled the Tubes' invasion plans. That means we took out a few dozen of their ships at the cost of half our fleet. Furthermore, we've lost track of their fleet and have no idea where they're going—although it's a safe bet they're headed for Earth, since we stripped it of all its defenses to make this attack. Is that a fair assessment of your appraisal of the situation?"
"That's how it looks to me," Rada said.
"In other words, we're horrifically outnumbered against a better-armed foe with no known weaknesses. What exactly do you plan to do about this?"
"I don't know."
Orlon laughed, a mixture of scorn and disbelief. "We're dead, aren't we? It's over. We thought this gambit would turn the tide, but the truth is we never had a chance at all."
"I don't know how to beat them," Rada said. "But I do know that if you think like that, you will die. Along with everyone who depends on you."
This drew a low chuckle from Mat-Nalin and a couple of the Belters. Orlon drew back her chin.
"We must assume they will head for Earth," Admiral Vance broke in. His eyes were closed, his index finger pressed between them. "If true, every minute we delay our pursuit of the enemy will cost tens of thousands of lives."
"Sir," Orlon said stiffly. "We just lost to them. If we pursue them, we'll have even worse odds and this time we won't have any secret weapon
s to back us up. We'll die, and they'll wipe out Earth anyway."
"And if we do nothing, we guarantee Earth's death. If it's lost either way, then I would rather die fighting for it than to watch from afar as our people and our birthplace are snuffed out."
Orlon swallowed, then nodded.
"You go and do whatever you need to do," Mat-Nalin said. "I'm staying here. To defend my home."
The other Belters nodded, laconic as a set of moai statues.
"We can't keep fragmenting like this," Rada said. "We might not have won the war today, but we did save the Belt because Admiral Vance left Earth to come to your aid. It's time for you to return the favor."
Mat-Nalin laughed, the same low rasp as before. "If I thought we had a frog's chance in hell, I might fly out with you. But we all know how it's going to play out. The admiral wants to die fighting for Earth. Can't blame him. As for me, I want to die fighting for the Belt."
His compatriots nodded in perfect unison.
"This doesn't make any sense," Rada said. "Dividing ourselves only guarantees that we'll all lose."
"It doesn't make sense to you because you don't have a home. I don't mean four walls and a roof. I mean the place where your grandparents were born. The place where you were born. And the place where your grandchildren will be born. That's what we're fighting for now."
"Then you'll be defeated in the place you were born, too."
Mat-Nalin nodded, gazing into the distance. "I expect you're right. But the only reason we're still alive is because of a trick they won't let us use again. Destroying the carriers was our only hope. It's time to stop thinking about how to win and start thinking about how to die well."
A silence fell over the bridge, as thick as a spell. At last, Vance cleared his throat. "It sounds like everyone has made their decision. Thank you, Mat-Nalin, and everyone who rallied here for our common purpose. It was an honor to fly and fight beside you."
"The same, admiral."
"Hold on." Rada could feel the moment slipping from her like a tide rushing past her legs. "We still have other assets. Other possibilities. Toman and his fleet are on their way as we speak."
Mat-Nalin glared at the floor as if he might spit on it. "You told us Benez wouldn't fight the Lurkers until we had a strategy for victory. Doesn't sound like we're brimming with solutions for him, Rada."
"What we saw today could be enough to change his mind. We didn't just cut the Lurkers' numbers down. We're discovering ways to make their lasers less effective. We saw something much bigger than that, too. I believe their lasers may be running low on power."
"Could be. Or it could be they're tricking us into thinking that to lure us into another thing like what they did with the first fleet we sent against them."
"I am beginning to appreciate the genius of their strategy," Vance said. "When they deceive us constantly, even if we have correctly identified a weakness, they force us to question whether it's real or only another trap."
"Toman will want to find out if their lasers are running low," Rada said. "He's not the only one we can try. Kansas is still out there, too." She lifted her head. "There's another possibility. We know the Swimmers are still out there. They're watching us. If we ask, they might come to our aid."
This time, Mat-Nalin did spit. "They won't do shit. They've known the Lurkers have been stopping us from leaving the System for decades and they never lifted a tentacle to stop them."
"They've been holding back out of respect for some interstellar protocol. I don't fully understand it. But they don't like the Lurkers any more than we do—and I know they don't want us to die."
"Enough to break whatever protocol kept them from telling us the Lurker fleet was on the way to kill us?"
"The only way to find out is to ask."
The officers of every group stirred. The Belters spoke in low tones to each other while the Earth contingent watched Vance.
Admiral Vance leaned back in his chair, regarding an updated image of Earth on a screen across the bridge. "Every moment we wait, for help that may never come, will mean more deaths on a world that has already suffered far too many. But we need to resupply. Missiles. Fuel. Anything the Belt can spare. You have twelve hours, Commander Pence. After that, we fly for Earth."
12
Damp, airy goo sprayed from the gash across Enspach's neck, a substance like foam rubber shaving cream, but as black as a shut closet. MacAdams yelled out. Enspach had dropped his device when he'd tripped and now reached for it, struggling to pull free of MacAdams' grasp.
MacAdams made himself go cold. He hacked the sharpened button across Enspach's throat a second time, then a third. More black stuff sputtered out of him, but nothing that resembled human blood. Enspach reached down for the device he'd dropped, battering at MacAdams with his other hand. MacAdams flayed open the man's palm and wrist, drawing more of the black foam, but Enspach didn't seem to feel it at all.
Enspach grabbed at the device. MacAdams tried to draw back his foot and drive it into Enspach's arm, but his ankles were still held in the restraints. Instead, he grabbed the man's hair and pulled toward him. The skin around Enspach's neck stretched tight. With a sickening peeling sound, it ripped free.
Enspach's scalp and face hung from MacAdams' hand like an upside-down sack. Across from him, rather than the bleeding red muscles you'd expect to see from a man who'd just had all the skin on his head torn off, Enspach's facial undercarriage was charcoal black, glistening with some kind of lubricant or moisturizer.
Enspach shrieked and brought up the device. MacAdams flung aside the face and grabbed Enspach's collar before the thing could scoot away. He rammed his left fist into the man's upper arm, sending the device spinning across the floor.
After he and the marines had gone down into the Lurker station hidden in the asteroid out in the Black Curtain, Dark Solutions had done some experiments on the aliens' bodies. They weren't at all like humans or Swimmers, meaning DS' analysis of which organs might be immediately debilitating or fatal was largely guesswork, but the structure they'd put their money on was a pair of apple-sized organs set under the crotch of where the two top limbs joined the body.
With his left hand, MacAdams ripped Enspach's shirt down, exposing the man's chest. With his right, he scraped the button down Enspach's breastbone as hard as he could. Fake outer skin peeled away to both sides. The tire-like inner skin was much tougher. Took everything MacAdams had to cut through it.
More black foam spurted over his arm. Enspach thrashed at him with both arms. MacAdams dropped the button, tightened his fingers together, and speared his hand into the hole through the skin. The interior was warm, thick fluid shifting around his hand. He groped forward, brushing up against something solid and round.
He grabbed it. And ripped it out.
He came away with a gray, foam-covered ball, trailing strings of nerves or connective tissue behind it. He threw it aside with a plop. Thick blue fluid gushed from the wound. A squealing noise was coming from a vent somewhere in Enspach's torso, muffled by the dress skin wrapping the Lurker's body. Enspach scratched at MacAdams' face, scrabbling for his eyes.
MacAdams jerked up his chin and bit down on Enspach's fingers. Warm fluid filled his mouth, so bitter he gagged. He bit down harder, reaching back inside the chest cavity until he found the other of the paired organs. He twisted his wrist and popped it free.
The squealing stopped. Enspach went limp.
"You dead?" MacAdams said. "Or is this another dirty Lurker trick?"
No answer. Which was exactly what a dirty Lurker trick would look like. He jammed his hand back inside the body, found another organ, and pulled out something that looked like a string of gray carrots. Enspach didn't so much as twitch at this. MacAdams was 99% sure that not even a superpowered alien could hold perfectly still while its guts were being manhandled out of its body, but a little squeamishness was not a good reason to risk getting ambushed a minute later. He yanked out one organ after another until his entire ar
m was sticky with blue goo.
He'd been hoping to find a better tool on the body, but after turning nothing useful up from Enspach's pockets, not even the pain-stick, he used his sharpened button to slowly saw through the restraints around his ankles.
Ten long minutes later, he was free. He went to the bathroom sink to rinse off his arms and face. The black and blue gunk came off easier than he feared. He went back for the device, then considered the body, but there was no way to conceal the mess without a pressure sprayer and a truckload of tarps. He went to the door and tapped the pad on its frame.
It slid open. He took a peek out into the hall. It was light gray, running twenty feet one way and thirty feet the other. And completely empty of anything he could use to kill people with.
But like his dad used to say, where weapons failed, surprise and aggression could suffice. MacAdams spent a few seconds listening. Hearing nothing but a vague hum, he headed down the shorter side of the hall. He came to another door and pressed its button.
He rolled around the frame and into a room identical to the one he'd been in. Webber sat in a chair in the middle of the room. His face was greasy with dried sweat and as he looked up at the sigh of the door his eyes burned with loathing and fear.
He blinked. "MacAdams?"
MacAdams shut the door. He crossed to the bathroom, clearing it. "How many of them have you seen?"
"Them? You mean Enspach? Just him."
"Watch the door." MacAdams kneeled next to the chair and went to work on the restraint with the button-knife. "You hurt?"
"Only in the places he jabbed me with the hurt-stick. Meaning everywhere. You?"
"I'm good. Do you know about Enspach?"
"Know what? That he's a total asshole? Yeah, I picked up on that."
"He wasn't human. He was a Lurker."
"What? I'm no xenobiologist, but if there's one thing I know about Lurkers, it's that they're shaped like Lurkers."
Stardust Page 15