Helium 3: Fight for the Future

by Brandon Q. Morris

  54th of Frien, 298

  It was an absurd situation. The cockpit was still filled with vapors from the gas giant’s atmosphere. It was so cold that without his suit he would have frozen to death. He could only breathe thanks to his mask. But it had been a long time since he’d slept as well as he had in the previous few hours, and he felt more relaxed than he had for many cycles.

  Norok moved the wing. He was expecting pain, but the joint moved without any problems. He was healed, and it hadn’t even taken a day! The nanomachines really were a blessing. Why hadn’t they started using them long ago for the Iks’ benefit? They could do more than just heal injuries. They were probably even capable of reversing the cell damage that caused aging. The Iks could become immortal.

  And now he already was. Any bodily injury would be healed in no time. Or not? He’d have to try it out. He lifted his fingers toward his beak and pecked the skin above one of the joints. The wound was not deep, but it bled profusely. Bright pink blood dripped in spurts from the tear in his skin, but not for long. Norok saw a reddish drop fall to the floor. That very same moment, the bleeding stopped. But the nanos didn’t stop there. The injury closed up right before his eyes. This way, he could see how little time it took.

  How far could he take this? For an Iks, the most vulnerable organ was the brain. If it was deprived of its supplies for too long the nerve cells would die. How far did the nanomachines’ power go? Could they replace dead nerve cells? Testing for that was out of the question. It seemed clear, however, that they were unable to reconstruct the brain’s memory content. If he were to wake up from brain death, his consciousness would be a blank slate. A newly-hatched chick would even be more competent because there was already a certain imprinting of the consciousness during development within the egg.

  Norok jumped up. Hopefully the nanos hadn’t... He didn’t want to imagine.

  He found Lashok in the passage. His body was still behind the magnetic cannon. The cold had preserved him so that he looked almost alive, but he was clearly dead. The nanomachines must have somehow recognized that there was no point in meddling. Perhaps the structure of a dead Iks was too different from that of a living one. The nanomachines needed blueprints of the things they were supposed to fix.

  Norok returned to the cockpit. He was the only crew member of the flying machine who remained. The dead were gone, even if they had not yet received the ceremony due them. But what about the ship? The cockpit was still demolished. It had to be a material problem. The enemy fire had torn out part of the outer hull like a claw hooking a piece of flesh from its victim’s belly, and now the material was missing. Norok wasn’t an engineer, and could only guess that the outer hull was made of a material that was nowhere to be found inside the ship, and this is why the nanomachines hadn’t been able to replace it.

  That was their primary flaw. They could recover a previous state at any time, but they couldn’t create new structures of their own, such as reconstructing the outer shell from a different material. The flying machine would, therefore, not be indestructible. If something were to tear it to bits, the nanos couldn’t do anything about it. But so far the enemy hadn’t used a weapon that could blow the ship apart. The nanomachines could instantly repair the comparatively small holes made by magnetic cannons or lasers, and he also still had the cloaking device.

  Or, did he, in fact, still have it? Norok ran the computer and had the status for all systems displayed. Very good! The cloaking system was working. It either hadn’t been struck, or the nanos had fixed it all. He couldn’t tell. But there had to be some kind of protocol. He went through the other systems. Life support was working, but it had nothing to do. The atmosphere of the gas giant filled the ship. Norok had no intention of changing this, since he could breathe through his mask. And it would give him an added benefit of stealth. The flying machine was no warmer than its surroundings, and therefore wouldn’t stand out on infrared scanners as long as the engines were not active.

  He could have the cloaking work in the visible light range, and this way the ship would only leave behind a radar echo. He’d become a ghost, an invisible avenging angel sowing fear and worry among his enemies. The bigger size of the enemy ships wouldn’t be a problem as long as he stuck to his chosen tactic—he’d attack and defeat one after another and then retreat into the gas giant’s atmosphere. It was a safe place to hide, because they apparently couldn’t follow him in. However, his plan would be doomed to fail if the enemy were to leave the gas giant’s orbit.

  Norok harbored no illusions. Once he had eliminated two or three enemy ships in this way, any commander who was halfway-competent tactically would order a withdrawal. Then he’d have the choice of sacrificing himself to drag one more enemy ship along in death, or he could wait in his safe hiding place for the enemy to withdraw. Norok knew what decision he would make.

  To be on the safe side, he read the status indicators one more time. Everything was fine, and there was no reason to wait any longer. He fired up the engine, and the thrust pushed him onto his seat. Norok felt the airflow increasing as the gas planet’s atmosphere gathered into the cockpit, bringing along cold and moisture that he initially took for water vapor. But with the temperatures that prevailed in the cockpit, they could only be drops of methane. This didn’t bother him, because the suit protected all the parts of his body that were vulnerable.

  It took longer than he’d anticipated to rise from the depths of the gas giant. The flying machine must have sunk really low while he’d been passed out. After some time had gone by, he was feeling lucky and switched off the engines. He hoped that they would cool down to the temperature of the atmosphere as the momentum propelled him farther up.

  His hunch turned out to be amazingly accurate. The sky suddenly cleared, and he saw the endless lights of the stars. Norok, who hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this infinitude, was unable to hold back his tears. So, what was happening out here now? He quickly switched on the radio receiver, hoping he’d find out the answer from others’ transmissions. And he did find signals that were, to all appearances, communications. He could not decipher their content, but based on the movement of the flying machine, he was able to triangulate the sources. There had to be at least five ships nearby. They were too small for him to see yet, but he was able to register their paths. They seemed to be drifting around the planet, as if they were waiting for something.

  Perhaps they were trying to help one of the ships—there was a signal source that seemed to be having some problems. The signals it was emitting were strangely choppy. He looked at the rhythm on the screen. Short—short—long—short—long—short—short—long. He froze. There was no doubt in his mind—it was the warning call of the tassel jay. And there it was again. Short—short—long—short—long—short—short—long. This was not a technical problem. Somebody was trying to send a message that only an Iks would understand. Norok lowered the ship a bit.

  What would this mean for his plans? The Iks who had issued the warning had to be aboard the alien ship. The generation ship was so far away that it must have been someone from his own crew, someone who must have left the ship during the attack, to then be discovered by the enemy. Norok remembered how Kimi had suddenly been gripped by an invisible force and thrown out of the flying machine. But she wasn’t the only one whose body was missing, so he shouldn’t hold on to the hope that she’d been saved. But it was possible.

  Whoever it was, it couldn’t affect his plans. He’d have to try to save whichever Iks was stuck in the enemy ship, and to do that he’d have to disable the enemy ship. Now he knew the ship’s path, so he could sneak up in the thick atmosphere and then strike out of the blue. Using his beak, Norok instructed the computer to calculate a corresponding course. He needed to stay under the dense clouds for as long as possible.

  The computer issued a path suggestion that fulfilled these criteria, and Norok passed the data on to the automatic flight control. Shortly after, he felt the flying machine turn to bring
the rear engines forward so that it would slow down and sink deeper into the gas giant’s atmosphere.

  Norok got up. He’d need a hand weapon. If he wanted to save the captured Iks, he’d have to board the enemy ship, where resistance was to be expected.

  The weapons cabinets were located in one of the flat storage rooms below the corridor that ran through the flying machine. Norok had to stoop after climbing down on a short ladder. The cabinets looked more like boxes. Their lock mechanisms recognized the Supreme Explorer’s authorization and opened as he approached. The selection was huge, as it was intended for the entire crew of up to 50 Iks. But he was alone. For a moment the number of victims claimed by the alien attack gnawed at his conscience. He pushed the thought away. It was not a question of revenge but of saving the Iks who had somehow survived the attack and was on the enemy ship.

  Norok chose a radiation gun. The construction was adapted to his wings, and the weapon nestled perfectly along the underside to remain invisible when the wing was folded. He jammed it under his right wing. He chose a particle weapon for his left side, just in case the enemies had any protective fields that a radiation gun couldn’t penetrate.

  Finally, he selected a fusion explosive device that consisted of encapsulated helium-3-deuterium pellets and had a detonation mechanism that he could trigger by voice. The device could turn an entire ship into a miniature sun. He hoped he wouldn’t need it, but it could help save him from an otherwise hopeless situation. He reached below his breathing mask and straightened the device, which hung like a large medallion from a strap around his neck.

  The engines fired again to announce the latest orbit correction. The momentum they’d provided would propel the flying machine beyond the atmosphere, even after they’d long since turned off and cooled down. Norok was slammed into the backrest. The acceleration was especially high to limit the duration of the firing phase. The cloud layers still perfectly shielded the flying machine.

  The vibrations in the backrest subsided, and Norok was suddenly weightless. It was a great feeling, as all the stresses of the past few days seemed to fall away from him. This could certainly be his last journey.

  Norok couldn’t see the alien ship on the screen. The cloaking device redirected all light surrounding the flying machine, so he couldn’t see what was in front of him. He was flying toward one point on the screen. If the enemy ship had slowed down or accelerated in the meantime, then it had just become a phantom target. He couldn’t check using the radar either, since the enemy might be able to intercept the radar beams. He was counting on his luck.

  Ten thousand wingspans remained, then eight thousand. Six thousand. He would creep up behind his enemy like a hooked claw and tear open the side walls so as to allow the Iks on board to escape. Two thousand wingspans.

  He fired the magnetic cannon. Small metal balls hurtled at tremendous speed toward the enemy ship, which he was still unable to see. The enemy wouldn’t notice the attack until the balls had penetrated the outer hull—a thousand wingspans. The first bullets must have hit their target by now. He dropped the cloaking briefly to see the results. A long, cylindrical ship was hovering in space right in front of him. He’d made it. The crew member who had sent out the distress call had to be inside somewhere, and would know that someone had come to the rescue.

  The flying machine opened fire at the enemy again, with another hail of bullets from its magnetic cannon.

  Reunion

  The female Iks did not look scared or even intimidated as four soldiers surrounded her on the Bud’s bridge. On the contrary, to Tolkut, she looked defiant—like a newly-hatched youngster. She stood tall amidst the four Mendraki, who only reached up to her waist with their compact, six-legged bodies, and she did not seem impressed in the slightest by the ray guns they were aiming at her with their front legs.

  In the meantime, two other Mendraki had brought the vibration transducer onto the bridge to facilitate communication.

  To a certain degree, I can understand your efforts to better familiarize yourself with the ship, but all you had to do was ask. I would have shown you around myself, Tolkut drummed, attempting to catch Kimikizu off guard. However, he knew that she would not understand the accompanying steps of mockery.

  Kimikizu glanced automatically at the transmission membrane. Though he could not perceive it himself, he knew that it transmitted his playful greeting through the airwaves.

  When she didn’t reply, he continued, However, when you tried to transmit a message to your people, I was disappointed in you. I thought we were on the way to understanding each other better and coming to an agreement.

  “An agreement under the pressure of captivity is not an agreement, but extortion,” she finally said. He saw her long, hard mouth opening and closing while receiving the translated message on his thread.

  I’m sorry you feel that way, he answered. We saved you from the planet’s gas inferno and could have let you die there. That should give you something to think about! Surely you’ve realized the differing opinions among the Mendraki community about how to deal with your species. I am but one of several Shipmasters who are striving for a peaceful coexistence with the Iks. Not all Mendraki think as we do, and you have suffered because of it. You have no friends outside our group, and it may well be that we’re the only thing standing between you and death right now!

  Kimikizu was unwilling to back down. “We’re not as defenseless as you might presume! You saw what kind of trouble one of our flying machines could make for you.”

  And you saw how we destroyed them, Tolkut replied brutally. How many of our ships do you think your asteroid ship could handle? Two? Three? Five? Ten? You may be dealing with more than a dozen of them if we don’t come to an agreement. Are you so sure you can survive such an attack?

  “Are you so sure you can afford the losses you could expect from an attack?” Kimi countered.

  So we at least agree that a war between our peoples would not be advantageous to either side?

  “I agree,” Kimikizu replied after a moment’s hesitation.

  Then we’ve at least established a foundation for talking to each other. Tolkut was satisfied that they’d made at least a few small steps toward progress. Now all he had to do was keep Kasfok from launching an attack on the Iks’ generational ship, and to persuade Kimikizu to try to find a peaceful solution among her kind as well. Neither would be easy.

  And he would have loved to know what message Kimikizu had tried to send to her ship. Why not just ask her? he thought. The sequence you attempted to send out—could you tell me what it means? Was it an order to attack?

  “I don’t have enough authority to order an attack,” Kimikizu’s answer vibrated through Tolkut’s thread. “It was a warning to stay away from you.”

  Suddenly a message was bouncing across all the threads, and red alarm lights were starting to flash on the bridge. Shipmaster, I have a rapidly approaching radar echo on my screen, but I can’t see anything in the visible area. It’s definitely coming from the upper layers of the gas planet’s atmosphere.

  The scout was clearly upset, as evidenced by his frantic dance. Tolkut knew only too well what this meant.

  It seems to me, Kimikizu, that one of your ships may have ignored your warning!

  Tolkut immediately ordered the bridge crew. Combat alert! Avoidance maneuvers with maximum acceleration! Power up weapons systems! Lock down all sectors! Close all bulkheads!

  Then he turned to the Iks again. It can only be the ship you were thrown out of, as the approach of another of your pods would hardly have gone unnoticed. I must admit that this is a real shock! I didn’t think it was still maneuverable, let alone capable of attack. It looked pretty battered before it sank into the deeper layers of the atmosphere.

  Tolkut saw Kimikizu wince, but was unsure how to interpret this body language.

  The thread vibrated with the word Noohrohk, which Tolkut didn’t understand. Unthinkingly, he performed the steps that expressed a need for clari
fication until he remembered that the vibration transducer could not translate such movements. He would have to instruct the technician to find a solution for the future—if there was a future for them at all!

  I didn’t understand you, he drummed instead.

  “The Shipmaster of my flying machine! He... He must have survived and is now out for revenge.”

  Apparently not a particularly bright Iks. Is this another female? That would explain a few things.

  “No, Norok is male, and he’s our Supreme Explorer. He—”

  We’re being shot at! the remote scout reported.

  The thread's intense vibrations overpowered Kimikizu’s, and Tolkut was unable to feel what she’d said. But it didn’t matter at this point, because a series of tremors went through the Bud in rapid succession. Tolkut knew what had happened, even without the announcement that immediately followed. A volley of bullets from a railgun had hit them.

  Hit in the rear sector! Engines three and four failed!

  The Bud had ten engines mounted in a ring around the stern, and the failure of two of them didn’t mean catastrophe—yet. But the enemy ship, which was difficult to locate, could become a danger if it caused further damage. It had to be disabled as soon as possible.

  Fire from all systems, ordered Tolkut. Shoot the area where the ship was last located with all we’ve got!

  Tremors immediately rattled the hull again, but this time it was the Bud’s own railguns and their staccato firing sequences that were responsible. The Bud simultaneously fired their lethal projectiles from four torpedo tubes, and the laser and maser batteries transformed the area where the attacker was suspected to be into an inferno. No ship could possibly emerge unscathed.

  The enemy is visible and can be located on all frequencies, the remote scout announced. The echo and image analysis show that we’ve hit them hard, and... that’s impossible!