by Joshua James
Shields, made of the same but slightly-adjusted plasma as those found in ship and station docking bays, had a weakness. Yes, they were great at deflecting kinetic fire or any direct attack. That worked through the shielding system automatically detecting and redeploying energy to the section of the shield that was going to deflect the projectile. A flak gun circumvented that by having multiple projectiles, impacting in multiple locations at almost the same time.
Of course, that on its own wasn’t enough to defeat modern shielding. With enough time and distance, the shielding could still adapt. That was why they had to be so close. Besides the fact that the weapons would only be effective at short range, anyway, being this close made it impossible for the shielding system to compensate in time.
Not that it didn’t try. And for a moment, Ben thought it wasn’t going to work. The shield managed to pick off several of the largest bits of incoming shrapnel.
But one good chunk and a little luck were all they needed. A piece that made it through the fighter’s shielding ripped through the ship’s engine assembly and, within seconds, ignited the fuel and blew the vessel up. It would have been worth celebrating but for the fact that there was one fighter left.
“What do we do now? We’re basically out of shield!” pointed out Morgan.
Each option that ran through Ben’s head was worse than the one before. He finally reached a conclusion. It was another long shot, but that seemed to be all that was left. “Make a run for the station.”
Morgan frowned. “Why—”
“The docking bay,” he said. “It’s a shot.”
Morgan snapped the nose of the ship over and mashed on the thrusters. “You know they shouldn’t be open, right?”
“They could be.”
“But in these battle conditions? The first thing they should do is close that bay.”
Ben blew out his cheeks. “Let’s hope somebody forgot.”
“That’s your plan?” Ace said.
“We’re all waiting for yours,” Ben offered. “And since it would be your first, I can’t wait to hear it.”
Ben, Morgan, and Ace all got pushed back in their seats from the g-forces as the Lost went as fast as it could without falling apart.
The Lost did feel and sound like it was going to fall apart. Forget the orange streaks of superheated impactors that flew by like small comets; the whole ship shook, almost vibrating, violently. Ben and Ace looked at each other, both clearly concerned, but they silently agreed to stay on course.
“I don’t know how much more of this she can take.” Morgan struggled to keep her hold on the stick. The vibrations from it traveled up her arm to the rest of her body.
“Just keep at it, Morgan. She’ll make it.”
Morgan glanced over at him. “I’d buy that more if I thought you actually knew what you were talking about.”
Since Ben didn’t have nearly the time in the ship that Morgan did, or Ace for that matter, it was a valid point. “I have a good feeling,” he said, not even convincing himself.
“That makes one of us,” Ace said.
“Where’s this damn docking bay?” Morgan said aloud as they approached.
They’d reached Sanctuary Station 33, but couldn’t find a way inside. Then their shields finally gave out.
Eighteen
The fighter pursuing the Lost fired, aiming at the ship’s left wing and the engines on it. It hit its mark. After a small explosion of fuel, smoke trailed out behind it. Smoke in zero gravity looked fascinating, but there was nothing fascinating about it to the crew.
“Shit!” yelled Morgan as the stick threatened to jerk out of her hand. If she’d had trouble piloting the ship before, it was near impossible now. They needed to drastically slow down so she could reconfigure the vessel to fly with only one wing. The problem was, the fighter was still in pursuit.
Ben saw the writing on the wall. This was it; this was the end. Loud clanging noises filled the cockpit of the Lost. They came from more rounds hitting the ship. Eventually they’d hit the main fuel tank and the whole thing, including the crew inside, was going to go up in flames.
Ben’s father had had a whole speech for him about good deaths and bad deaths when he’d first enlisted. The old man and his damn speeches. Ben’s response had been a joke about no death, and to ask if this speech had been vetted by his mom.
But the joke was on Ben. His mother was dead, and there was nothing good about it. The old man might be dead, too. And here he was.
Good enough for you, old man?
Ben reached into his jacket pocket. Inside was an old-fashioned physical photograph. It was of him, his mother, and his father on the boardwalk. His dad had the same picture, as had his mom; they’d asked for three copies. He just remembered that day as the happiest of his life.
“Holy shit, you seeing this?”
Morgan’s voice cut through Ben’s fatalistic haze. He looked out the windows of the Lost’s cockpit. The fighter that had been following them was gone. He could just see the thruster burn as it rushed back toward what was left of the fight.
But there was nothing left. The Perseverance was in its death throes.
The large orb of churning liquid metal had gotten close to the Perseverance. The front of the ship was being absorbing by it, even as the dreadnought focused all its fire.
The huge ship rattled, and her energy died, pitching the entire ship into darkness. The silhouette would have been lost if not for the cannons along her hull. The autocannons, built to use reserve power, kept firing, creating an eerie glow that outlined the edges.
But not for long. The orb kept coming, seemingly growing outwardly as it enveloped the ship.
After a few moments, it was over. The dreadnought was gone, completely consumed by the glowing orb.
Large spikes jutted out from the large orb so fast that there was no dodging them. They easily pierced through the hulls of fighters that tried to make desperate runs at the enemy. The cruisers that had been flanking the dreadnought tried to retreat, but the spikes kept growing now, jutting further and further into space from the orb. They pierced the hulls of the cruisers, breaking them in half along their superstructures as if they were made of brittle clay. In less than a minute, the whole of the AIC force was gone.
The orb rippled, its metallic surface reflecting the nothingness left around it in space, except a handful of fighters that Ben assumed were part of the force that had been here to greet them when they’d first jumped here.
“That was amazing in a sort of messed-up way,” Ace said. “Mostly because it wasn’t us.”
“Yet,” Morgan said.
“Can you maneuver this thing?” asked Ben, still struggling to believe what he’d just seen. LeFleur had chased him here, and now she and her whole crew were surely dead.
“Enough,” she said, still struggling to hold the controls. From what Ben knew of the control surface, she was practically flying the ship sideways to keep moving lazily along the side of the station.
“We need to find this docking bay.”
They all scanned along the station. It was strangely dark.
After thirty seconds, Ace said, “Has anyone seen a single light coming from anywhere?”
“Nope,” Ben said.
Morgan shook her head. “I just want to find that docking bay.”
“Any port in a storm,” Ben said.
“Especially one that just ate an AIC battle group,” Ace said.
A little less than two minutes later, Morgan spotted the open docking bay on Sanctuary Station 33. Like the rest of the station, it was dark, but it was open. And that was all they needed.
If they’d known what they were flying into, that opinion might have changed.
Nineteen
“Are you seeing this?” asked Ada. Her nose was mere centimeters from the windows of the survivors’ apartment refuge. Out in space, she saw the battle between the Shapeless’ ships and a newly arrived AIC fleet.
“Who do you th
ink that is?” asked Rollins as he joined Ada at the window. The rest of the survivors—Tomas, Francesca, Tanisha, and Walter—all followed.
“Is it a rescue party?” Francesca asked hopefully.
“Whoever it is, it looks like they’re losing,” said Tomas.
“It’s an opportunity!” Ada said, jumping down. She was actually excited by the battle going on outside. “They’re distracted. This might be our only shot to get to that engineering supply room and get those damn flamethrowers and cold-cast guns.”
“She’s right,” agreed Tomas. “Those things are probably too worried about whoever that is out there that they’re fighting with to look for us.”
“That’s a mighty big ‘probably’. What if you’re wrong?” Walter wasn’t a natural pessimist, but he had a point. That would be a hell of a gamble, making a raid on the engineering supply room. They couldn’t get there via the vents, so they’d have to run out in the open, and more than likely run into some Shapeless on the way there and back.
“We don’t have a choice,” Ada said. “If we’re going to take the fight back to these things and maybe, just maybe find someone—a ship out there to come rescue us—or rescue ourselves, we need weapons. Extreme heat and extreme cold, that’s all that works against these things. It’s worth the risk.”
“Ada and I will go. Tanisha too,” Tomas said. Like Ada, he was tired of waiting around. “Walter, sorry, but you’re out for this one. Francesca, too.”
“We must be too young,” Walter said, winking at Francesca. Humor in crisis; that seemed to be the Walter way, Ada thought.
“You stay back, too, Rollins,” Ada said, nodding at his hand.
“Bullshit,” he said, giving her the finger with his other hand. “Only need one to hold a pulse blaster.”
“I don’t like us splitting up,” Ada said. “But I like it a lot less if Walter and Francesca are back here alone.” She stared Rollins down. He outranked her here, so it was his call in the end, but she knew she was right. Someone who knew how to shoot a gun needed to stay back with Walter and Francesca.
“Fine,” Rollins said, frustration written on his face. “But don’t get dead out there,” he said to Ada.
“That’s the plan,” Ada said.
After taking a quick inventory of weapons, Ada, Tomas, and Tanisha took off their shoes and boots so that they made less sound through the halls. Tomas and Ada had their combat flak jackets to wear. Tanisha found the thickest jacket she could and put it on. It had a metallic liner that might impede a Shapeless alien’s claws.
Lastly, they laid out their remaining weapons. There were two standard-issue rifles proven non-effective when it came to killing the aliens, though sometimes they were effective when it came to slowing them down. Tomas and Tanisha took the rifles. Ada had a pistol with one mag loaded and only a single extra mag. She took two white phosphorous grenades that should come in handy; she also took the only industrial-strength welding torch, which was fashioned very much like an old-fashioned flamethrower.
Armed and ready to go, they bypassed the front door and instead headed over to climb up to the janitor’s office/supply room so they could sneak their way out into the commercial level of Sanctuary Station 33. It was a risky path, but exposing their hiding place was riskier.
Tomas was first. He jumped, grabbed the edges of the hole, and pulled himself up. Once there he held his arm out, and helped pull Tanisha up to join him.
“You sure about this, Ada?” asked Rollins. He’d insisted on following them as far as he could.
Ada slung the welding torch over her shoulder. “No. But I’m sure we have to try. Otherwise we’re just sitting ducks here.”
“Okay,” Rollins said, running his hand through his hair. Ada found it an endearing tic. She’d grown to like the commander quite a bit in the short time she’d known him. “But make me a promise, Private Ericsson.”
To Ada, he looked like a man saying his final goodbyes. “Sure, Commander Rollins,” she said, ignoring Tomas, whose hand stuck down through the hole from the office above.
“Come back,” Rollins said. “Come back alive.”
Ada smiled, knowing she couldn’t promise anything of the sort. Rollins must know it as well as she. “Of course. We’ll be back before you know it.”
Rollins nodded and stepped back. “Good. Because the old man and the kid are gonna drive me nuts.”
Ada smiled back one last time, then took Tomas’ hand and was pulled up into the janitor’s office.
She looked at the open vent that she’d traveled through seemingly countless times before. Part of her missed the safety it provided. Another part of her didn’t miss the confined space one bit.
“I’ll take point,” whispered Ada. She may not have been a soldier very long, but she had the most experience when it came to navigating the station. Very slowly, she opened the door, careful not to make a sound.
Ada looked left down the quiet halls of the commercial level. Other than the now-rotting bodies of victims caught in the initial Shapeless assault, it was empty. She held her breath as she looked right. Again, other than the vestiges of the earlier slaughter, nothing.
“C’mon,” instructed Ada in a whisper as she fully opened the door. The business end of the welding torch led the way as she stepped out into the Sanc-33 commercial-level hallways.
This was a dangerous route to go. Each level of the sanctuary station was about 3 to 5 km round trip. On one end she knew there was the main cafeteria, where the fake Saito had called for a gathering of the station survivors, probably—no, most certainly—to murder them and take their identities in the most brutal way possible. The only upside was that unlike the vents that cut through everything, going on foot to the cafeteria would’ve taken at least twenty minutes. Chances were, they weren’t going to run into that group of monsters.
Tomas and Tanisha followed Ada out into the hallways. Everything seemed good at first. They tried to move as quickly as they could while staying quiet. The lack of shoes helped, though at one point each of them separately stepped in the blood and juices of decaying flesh.
Ada quickly held up her hand in a closed fist. Immediately Tomas and Tanisha stopped. They knew exactly what that meant. She’d spotted a Shapeless alien who’d wandered out of the convenience store up ahead of them, about forty yards away.
Judging by the oblivious nature of the Shapeless, Ada knew it hadn’t detected them yet. In fact, she didn’t really know how they sensed people or the world around them. Did they see, hear, smell, and touch? Or was it something else? However they perceived their surroundings, the monster didn’t sense them yet. That meant she had a brief window before it did.
Ada took action. Maybe it was her anger or even her fear, but whatever did propel her, she ran towards the Shapeless. She had two choices that she had to make in a split second: did she wait to get close enough and risk the monster screeching and calling out to the others? Or did she take a risk and fire on the alien with her pistol, stun it, and then get close enough to take the welding torch to it?
The Shapeless made the choice easy for her when it turned to face her.
Twenty
In the blink of an eye, Ada whipped out her pistol and unloaded on the Shapeless alien. She didn’t slow as she approached; her sock-clad feet slid across the floor towards it and it suddenly occurred to her that she should really be barefoot if she actually wanted better traction. It was too late now for logic, though. The moment she was within range, she lit the monster on fire.
Unfortunately, she didn’t consider that lighting one of those things alive might make it screech.
The burning alien’s screeches echoed throughout the halls of the commercial level. Those were followed by almost a half a dozen more; it was hard to tell for sure. It really didn’t matter how many there were. More than one Shapeless was scary enough.
Ada had to think fast. Her last decision wasn’t the best one, but she’d felt like she had no options. This time, though, she
did have some. She could’ve chosen the safest route and simply retreated back to the apartment, or they could’ve taken the vents. It would’ve limited some of the weapons they took with them: the rifles and welding torch would have had to go. There simply wasn’t enough room. Or they could have run across the nearby promenade and taken the stairs down a couple levels to where the engineering armory was.
“What do we do?” asked a panicked Tanisha.
“Follow me, and no matter what you see, do not stop running!” Ada sprinted towards the cafeteria. Tomas and Tanisha fell in right behind her.
Two Shapeless aliens stood in the middle of the cafeteria, on alert from the sound of their fellow monster being burned alive. Ada ignored them, as did Tomas, but Tanisha couldn’t. She made the mistake of looking, and she froze.
“Grimes!” shouted Tomas, coming to a halt. “We need to keep going!”
Tanisha had never seen combat. She’d signed up for the UEF Navy’s culinary program for a good reason. She had no interest in combat. She needed the education but didn’t have the money to pay for it herself, and saw an opportunity for guaranteed job placement afterwards. So what if she’d have to be aboard a dreadnought, fighter carrier, or frigate for a couple years? Until she’d come aboard the Atlas, she’d never held a gun or seen death with her own two eyes.
Tears rolled down Tanisha’s cheeks from her wide-open eyes. They stared at the same dead little girl Ada had seen earlier when she was in the vents.
“It’s just a…just a child. How could they…?”
Two months. Tanisha was two months away from graduation from the UEF Navy Culinary Program. She’d served her time, and in two months she was going to be helped finding a job at an actual restaurant. Two months, and she would’ve been spared the sight of eviscerated children and the rotting dead.
Tomas practically tackled Tanisha as he slammed into her. “Move!” he screamed into her face, breaking through her thoughts. She stared at him in a daze as he practically yanked her off her feet.