Awakening Threat

by Patrick G Cox

  Around Harry, everyone was busy in the task of trying to prevent what seemed to be an inevitable collision. Harry felt suddenly very alone and very useless. It was not a good feeling, but he forced himself to remain still and allow his crew to do what was necessary.

  Just as impact seemed inevitable, the ship steadied and climbed away, the hull clearly distorting under the strain. Harry heard a sharp crack and glanced down as the armrest of his chair came adrift in his hands. Embarrassed, he realised he’d been gripping the armrest so hard that he’d actually pulled it loose. “Are we still able to fight the ship?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ferghal spared a glance at his friend. “We’ve lost a part of the lower fin and have a hull breach in the forward weapons control. What do you intend?”

  Harry considered. “Contact the others and ask who has missiles remaining. That giant is still unaffected, my friend. This is not finished until it is.”

  “Sir, 773, 787 and 849 report they have remaining missiles and can still fight. Though 842 says she has missiles, she cannot reload, and the remainder are unable to continue.” The ComsRate’s face was white, his lips a thin line as he spoke.

  “Thank you. Give me a link to the first three.” Harry waited for the link to go live. “Join me. We have to go round again. Take station on 1002. We will attack it head on this time. Good luck.” He nodded to the ComsRate. “Give me a link to the others.” Five faces appeared on his screens. “We are going in again. If you are able, try to distract it with a feint on its underside.”

  “My main drives are just about holding together, Commander,” advised the Lieutenant in command of 775. “But we’ll do our best.” He mopped a bloody cut on his scalp. We should be able to make one pass, but if anything else falls off, breaks or gets strained, we’ll need a tow home, I think.”

  “We’ll make sure you get one, Mike.”

  “Good luck, Boss, we’ll try and kick it in the nads for you. That should distract it a bit.”

  Despite the tension, everyone laughed. “Good luck. Break off if you meet too much opposition, and make for the Prinz—or anyone big enough to allow you to save yourselves.”

  He ended the link. “Very well, Mr. O’Connor. Let us get on with it.”

  The Admiral watched the growing fight around the giant queen ship. “Send in the destroyer escorts to knock out some of those smaller units, and send in all the strike fighters we’ve got available. We have to give those corvettes a chance.”

  “Yes, sir. They’re three down so far.” He glanced across at the Admiral. “The remaining nine are reporting they’ve delivered their first loads.”

  “Then give them all the support we can.” The Admiral was on his feet. “They deserve nothing less.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Flag Lieutenant was busy on his tablet. Several of the larger ships moved into close support positions, some literally blasting their way into the melee.

  Harry watched his displays, his cyberlink active as he used the ship’s scanners through the AI. He could sense Ferghal working the ship through his own link and focussed on the giant ship. He had no idea what he was looking for, but hoped something would present itself as a target. They had no option but to keep trying until they succeeded. The ship lurched suddenly, and an alarm sounded.

  “Hull breach.” Ferghal sounded calm. “Isolate the accommodation. Don your survival packs.”

  Harry felt beneath his seat. The survival pack wasn’t there. He’d forgotten to collect one when he’d joined 1002. Silently he cursed his stupidity. Too late now, he thought with grim resolution.

  “Harry, sir,” Ferghal’s voice was taut. His slip in addressing Harry by his first name was a sign of his strain. “We need to shore up and brace some of the damage or we’ll break up if we go through another encounter like the first. Can you take command of my girl? I’ll get my damage party to work.”

  Harry nodded. “Yes, get to it. I have control.” He glanced at the Coxswain. “Peter, be warned—I may make commands through the AI. I sometimes forget to do it properly.”

  The Coxswain grinned. “Any way you like, sir. We’ll manage.”

  The hideous surface approached rapidly now, its damage and some of its features becoming plainer by the minute. In some places, it resembled a coral reef coated with fungus. In others, there appeared to be sections of alien ships accreted to it. And then there were the long, frond-like tendrils that reached out as if to intercept passing vessels. Head-on like this, the thing’s surface had the texture of some gigantic insect’s head.

  Harry scanned the surface, seeking some weakness, and then he saw it: a great black dome lurking behind some strange-looking protrusions. He stared at it and felt as if he was staring into one of the pits of hell itself. Evil seemed to radiate from it in waves. He ran a quick scan of the immediate area and identified three similar features. He murmured to himself, “The eyes. Of course, they are directly linked to the brain.” He snapped upright in his chair. “Pack Leader, lock our missiles to the target I have identified on your display. The eye must be vulnerable, as it is linked to the brain. That is where we must strike.”

  Regidur acknowledged, and even the translator device sounded surprised.

  “Comms, get me the others.” He watched as they appeared. “We must strike the eyes—those dark domes. Lock your missiles to them and follow my lead. Link the targeting data so we each pick a different eye.” He listened to the acknowledgement and cut the link. Now he could only pray that they could get close enough to the target to prevent the beast from evading the attack or defending itself in some manner.

  The gravitational field dragged them toward the huge ship. Inside the AI, Harry could feel the stress being recorded by the hull’s sensors. At least the atmosphere didn’t seem as thick in this aspect as it had been elsewhere on the giant hull. “Helm, watch our angle of approach; we don’t want to follow the missiles straight in.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.”

  The ship shuddered again, and Harry’s ears popped. An alarm sounded, but he wasn’t listening to it; his entire focus was on the AI as it battled against the strain of approach. Distantly, he sensed the missiles leaving their racks, and immediately he sent orders to the various manoeuvring units to break them free of the deadly pull of the onrushing giant. The hull screamed in agony as metal tore loose and new breaches appeared in the outer plating. The ship shuddered in the effort to pull up and over the surface. A great appendage unfurled itself in their path, and the little ship lurched as it collided with it and lost all that remained of the lower fin and a hyperpod. The impact threw them outward and away from the monster, though hardly under control.

  Harry was gasping for breath, and his hands and feet were desperately cold.

  “Sir!” The voice seemed far away. “Sir, get into your survival suit. Now, sir!”

  Vaguely, Harry was aware of being manhandled. He protested briefly before he lost consciousness.

  “Sir.” The weapons Commander stared at the three-dimensional display. “I think that last attack did it.” He pointed to the avatars of the Niburu ships. “Look! The brute is losing direction, and so are the others.”

  The Admiral followed the pointed finger. “At last.” He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. “At last.” He sank into his command chair, his eyes riveted on the display. “The other ships seem to be confused. Ours are picking them off without resistance.”

  “Yes, sir.” The Flag Lieutenant was awed as he watched. “Look, it’s trying to escape.”

  “Holy sh*t!” The exclamation came from one of the Rates. Silence fell in the Command Centre as all eyes focused on the death throes of the giant ship-creature.

  “It’s losing altitude.” The weapons director refocused his scanners. “Manoeuvring is obviously restricted. It needs to pull away from the planet soon.”

  The Admiral watched the enemy queen as it tried to reverse its direction. “That last strike with the corvettes—they attacked its frontal area. What did they hit?”


  The scan operators zoomed their scanners. “Looks like they took out three eyes and just missed a fourth, sir.”

  “It’s failed to make the turn, sir. The gravity is too strong for it now. It’s going down tail first.”

  They watched as it struck the surface of the planet and sent a visible shockwave away from the point of impact as the two bodies slowly disintegrated. Huge chunks of the planet, almost indistinguishable from sections of the ship itself, exploded away from the impact point, spreading outward in a deadly hail from the destruction.

  Instantly alert to the danger, the Admiral ordered, “All ships: Immediate transit. Assemble on flagship at twenty AUs.”

  The planet disintegrated as the huge ship ploughed into its surface.

  Even at a distance, the destruction of both the giant ship and the planet was awesome to watch.

  “Are all of our ships clear of it?”

  “All major units, sir. Some of our strike fighters are not reporting yet, and we haven’t heard from the four corvettes. Five others, three of them seriously damaged, broke off and went into transit just before it went down.”

  The Admiral watched the spreading debris. “Which ones made that final attack?”

  The Flag Lieutenant glanced at his tablet. “They were led by 1002, sir. The others were 773, 787 and 849. If their trajectory is anything to go by, they went straight at it head-on. Missile launch was at less than forty kilometres.” He whistled. “The gravity must have been tearing them apart.”

  “Get a full power scan of the debris field. I want to know what survives in there, and I want the information now.” The Admiral was out of his chair. He glared at the battle display. “Send in some scouts. If any of our people have survived that, I want them found and rescued. If any of theirs survived it, destroy them.”

  Aboard 1002, the situation was desperate. Ferghal linked himself to the AI as the little ship tried to outrun the debris cloud hurtling outward behind it. The artificial gravity had ceased to operate, so everyone was drifting about while trying frantically to find and patch the damaged frames, services and systems. To Ferghal’s alarm, he couldn’t sense Harry.

  “Helm, where is the Commander?”

  “He’s out cold, sir. He didn’t have a survival suit when we lost the atmosphere. Mr. Regidur has somehow crammed him into his. Lieutenant Paulener has the con at present.”

  “Good. I have a spare suit in damage control. Tell the Pack Leader to get himself and the Commander to me.” He keyed his link again. “Karl, she’ll hold together, I think. Does she still respond to command?”

  “Just about, sir. I’d like to transit, but Lieutenant Sci’antha says we can’t.”

  “Very well. Can we contact the fleet or the Prinz?”

  “No, sir. All our external coms are down.”

  Ferghal cursed in Gaelic. “I’m coming back to the Command Centre. I’ll be with you in a moment.

  Chapter 42

  Requiem for the Fallen

  Harry regained consciousness, his head splitting and his body unable to move freely. He only knew that he was tightly packed into something that smelled strongly of Canid.

  “Cease struggling, Leader.” The voice of Regidur in his ear startled him. “This suit is not designed to contain us both and will fail if you move against my motions.”

  “Regidur? What’s going on? Why am I inside your suit?” And then, for some inexplicable reason, he felt euphoric—as if nothing in the world mattered. The situation struck him as very funny, and he laughed. “Much as I like you, sir, I am not accustomed to being this close to another man.”

  “There was only one suit,” said Regidur. “Lieutenant Ferghal has another suit. We must reach him so you may have your own.”

  Harry laughed again, the fog in his mind making him lightheaded. “The last time I enjoyed being this close to someone, it was with my girlfriend Mary. ” He shook his head to clear it. This induced a stab of pain that worsened his headache. “Ow—that hurt.” His senses swam again, and he floated with Regidur toward the airlock. An odd memory ran through his mind. The Canids had a rather pleasant and comforting body scent, reminding him of the hounds he’d grown up with in his childhood. Then the darkness returned.

  Someone was talking to him, but he couldn’t make sense of the words. Why was he floating like this? And why was Regidur holding him so tightly?

  “Easy does it. Get the Commander out of the suit first. But be quick, the atmosphere’s dropping in here.”

  Harry felt himself being separated from Regidur, and then someone was pushing him into a different suit. Vaguely, he registered that it was an EVA suit. Did they want him to go outside? That didn’t seem right—not in the middle of a battle. He protested, but someone else pulled a mask over his face.

  “Breathe deeply, sir. You’ve got severe oxygen depletion. We have to get some back into you as quickly as we can.”

  The oxygen helped, and he managed to focus his eyes, surprised to find himself in the wardroom. “What happened?”

  “We lost the atmosphere in the Command Centre, sir. Mr. Regidur managed to get both of you into his suit, though how he did that beats me. Even with it being a different shape and size, it can’t have been easy. You were out cold already, and those suits can only stretch so far.” The damage control tech was grinning. “Must have been a bit on the cosy side.”

  Despite his headache, Harry laughed. “I get your meaning.” He caught sight of Regidur sealed into his survival suit. It struck him, now that his head was clearing, that it would have been impossible to double up in anyone else’s survival suit, and completely impossible in an EVA suit, even the Canid’s. “Thanks, my friend. I owe you my life.”

  “It is my honour, Leader. The enemy is destroyed. What are your wishes now?”

  “To get us all back to the Prinz.” Harry smiled. “Preferably with 1002.”

  “The news channel is carrying a story that there has been a terrible battle.” Mary’s expression was anxious. “They say the corvette flotillas have suffered heavy losses, and many of the larger ships have been lost or very badly damaged.” She wrung her hands. “It’s so worrying. Have you heard anything?”

  “No, my dear,” said Niamh. “I’ve been watching the news as well. Remember that the news channels love to present the worst possible picture. Frightened people are much more likely to remain glued to their view screens.” She made a face.

  Mary nodded. “True. They always manage to present the Fleet’s actions in a bad light.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “But they’ve been showing recordings of parts of the battle, and it had images of one of the corvettes being blown up. I couldn’t watch any longer.”

  Niamh was silent for several seconds. “The only thing we can do now, my dear, is wait and pray.” She smiled tiredly. “I’m sure Theo will get an update as soon as one is available, and he’ll find a way to let me know if anything has happened to the boys. I will let you know the moment I hear anything at all.”

  “We have contact with several ships on the leading edge of that debris field, sir. All of them are damaged, and we can’t establish comms with a number of them.”

  “Can you identify them?”

  “We have four, no, five corvettes, twenty-five strike craft and one frigate. The frigate reports she is unable to transit, three of the corvettes are in the same position and the other two have no comms. We have a recording from one of the strike craft of the furthest corvette.”

  “Put it on my screen.”

  “On screen, sir.”

  The Admiral leaned forward. “That’s 1002! By God, she’s a wreck. I’m surprised they’re able to keep her going. Have we a comlink to her?”

  “Negative, sir. All her comms arrays are gone.”

  The Admiral leaned back. “And the others? Are they as badly damaged?”

  “Looks like it, sir. The Commanders of 773 and 842 ask for assistance, sir.” He frowned. “They stress that it’s not for them, but for 1002, 787 and 849
.” He turned to face the Admiral. “Madmen, the bloody lot of them. Their ships are as badly beaten up as the others.”

  “Call in the Prinz and tell her to pick up her strays. In the meantime, send in some extra hands to help hold them together.” The Admiral paused, his brows knit. “Signal the third destroyer group. I want those corvettes given a close escort until they are recovered.”

  The arrival aboard the Prinz was tumultuous. The survivors were treated to a hero’s welcome. They walked, staggered and limped aboard the mothership, most still in survival suits or EVA gear, and were mobbed by cheering crewmembers and officers.

  “I never thought to see this port again,” Ferghal admitted, never one to mince words. “I fancied we would be a part of yon debris before anyone found us in bits and pieces!”

  “We have been lucky, to be sure,” Harry agreed. He was still supported by Regidur, and now by an emotional Danny as well, all thought of dignity and being an officer gone from his thoughts. Harry’s legs were more than a little unsteady, and his hands and feet were swollen. “I know I should not be here if it were not for you, Pack Leader, or the rest of your fellows, Ferghal. I owe you all my life.”

  “Rubbish, we did no more than you would have done for any of us.” Ferghal could not bring himself to think how close they had come to losing Harry. Only Regidur’s unconventional action had saved his friend. In an effort to lighten the moment, he crooked an eyebrow and said with a wry smile, “I leave you in command of her for a few minutes, and you all but destroy my ship. I take that ver’ unkindly, sir.”

  “Don’t remind me. I fear you’re right.” Harry caught the gleam in Ferghal’s eye. “Rogue. A few dents and scratches—nothing more. Soon repaired.” He threw an arm around Ferghal’s shoulders. “Thank you, my friend.” Squeezing Danny’s hand, he added, “And you’ll not have to face Aunt Niamh alone, Danny. We’ve that to look forward to yet!”