Neighbors

by Brian Whiting

  * * *

  One of the F-18s headed in for a landing. He stayed in the air as long as he

  could to give the work crews on the carrier time to clear the deck, but no progress was made. He was consciously aware of the large, gaping hole on

  the flight deck where a pod struck, and the black smoke billowing out of it,

  directly below the now-raised landing net. The pilot watched as his engines

  puttered out on his final approach.

  Two thousand meters.

  He was a dead stick at this point. He operated the rudders with expert

  precision and waited to engage the flaps until the last moment. There would

  be no do-overs of this landing.

  Fifteen hundred meters.

  He glanced at the horizon and watched missiles launch from various

  surrounding ships, like blinking Christmas lights. Then he watched as

  CWIG from three ships poured rounds into the sky. Fear swept through his

  spine, as he knew the enemy was deadly close. He engaged his flaps.

  One thousand meters.

  He felt the nose lift, and his speed reduced as the flaps took effect.

  He watched in horror as a black, cone-looking object fell out of the sky

  and buried itself in the flight deck. Somewhere else, debris of another pod

  splashed across the water. The new hole was directly in his landing path.

  He pointed the nose of his jet down, towards the rear of the carrier at the

  water line. He wished he had to time to push the nose further down, but

  the carrier was getting big in his canopy. He reached up and pulled the ejec-

  tion handle.

  The jet fighter hit the water first and collided with the carrier in the aft

  section, right at the water line. The pilot and co-pilot were shot into the

  sky, parachutes deployed. The co-pilot had the fortune of landing on the

  flight deck, while the pilot descended into the water. Another flight crew

  ran from the conning tower to a Seahawk helicopter to begin water recuse.

  They watched as the second F-18 ditched their jet between the aircraft car-

  rier and another cruiser. The battle was intense, going for more than an

  hour now, with no sign of letting up.

  * * *

  The Destiny was seventy thousand feet above the surface of Missouri,

  their forty-degree bank creating a ten-mile wide circle. They started over

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  the Complex, but they shifted locations as the largest concentrations of falling pods left the battlefield and headed to civilian areas, where they

  would be less likely to encounter resistance. The two decouplers on the

  belly of the Destiny were busy searching and destroying pods, quick and without remorse.

  Despite their best efforts, pods were reaching the surface, even in the

  large cities below the ship. It was hard to imagine what was going in large

  cities like Chicago, where there were no fleets or ships in the air for defense.

  All civilian air traffic was grounded, and the only thing flying in the sky

  were military aircraft of various kinds. Their missiles depleted early within

  the first hour, and now the only thing the jets could do was strafe ground

  targets with their guns. Some of the pods chose strategic points of landing,

  such as amongst the skyscrapers or on the edge of large cities, bridges, and

  highways, places they knew the humans wouldn’t destroy lightly.

  However, some hit the middle of nowhere. Farmland, forests, on the

  sides of mountains or in the middle of lakes. Brandy looked at her battle

  map. Everyone on the bridge felt uneasy, having flown at a thirty-degree tilt

  for some time now.

  * * *

  A squad of UEF space marines deployed along the Complex perimeter,

  watching as two pods fell from the sky. One landing in a field to the south

  of the Complex, the other in the middle of the parking lot, obscured by a

  cluster of buildings.

  Staff Sargent Tantum was only promoted and reassigned last month.

  He was one of the few US military personnel on loan to the Complex, and

  his squad consisted of eleven soldiers including himself. His orders were to

  maintain the perimeter until the evacuations were finished.

  I guess no one imagined pods falling inside the perimeter, he thought to himself. Seems like that should have been foreseen.

  “Psst.” He made a whirling motion with his hand, and both of his team

  leaders came to him as they crouched in a circle.

  “Okay, keeping things fluid. Alpha team will continue the mission

  and hold the perimeter. I’ll take Bravo team, and we will secure our inner

  perimeter. Rally point is the flagpole. If there’s radio silence, the CO will

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  meet us there at midnight to distribute new orders. If no one shows, you are to take whoever’s left and go to these coordinates.” He provided an

  eight-digit grid coordinate, and the team leaders marked their map. “I was

  assured you would find safety there. Any questions?”

  “Resupply?” Sargent Dunn asked, touching his canteen. They were

  into their fourth hour on the perimeter and water was becoming a concern.

  “I’ll bring back water after we secure the Complex,” the Sargeant said,

  nodding to his men.

  They froze as windows broke in the distance, and then the unmistak-

  able sound of gunfire erupted through the night air.

  “Let’s move. Remember, there are three other squads out there. I don’t

  want to hear about friendly fire.”

  Bravo team leader gave the signal to activate their comms equipment.

  The equipment only had enough power for four to five hours of com-

  munication before they died out, and they were for short range only. But

  they could talk without pushing buttons and would all be heard amongst

  the team.

  The small team proceeded over a small berm and entered the park-

  ing lot. Several buildings of various sizes littered the complex facilities, the largest three connected by walkways on the tenth and thirtieth floors. The

  small team wandered the parking lots and small alleyways between build-

  ings, their guns up as they attempted to find the crashed pod. The squad

  leader was sure it would be behind the nearest building, but there was no

  sign of it.

  They came to an intersection, and three empty buses drove past, oblivi-

  ous of the team in the alleyway.

  “Move,” the Sargent commanded.

  The team followed behind the buses. The buses proceeded down the

  road, completely unaware of the following soldiers. They turned right and

  came to an abrupt stop a few meters down the road, out of sight. The team

  was still trying to catch up to them when the rear bus suddenly reversed,

  colliding with a building just left of the team across the street. The soldiers pressed up against the wall and slowly peered around the corner.

  A Zorn drone was trying to exit the lead bus through a side window,

  but it was caught on a part of the frame. The team opened fired from fifty

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  meters away, making the Zorn drone panic and break loose of its situation.

  It scurried down a side street, leaving a little trail of Zorn goo behind.

  The team followed at a quick pace, guns up, and approached the alley

  the drone scurried into.

  The Sargant’s gun followed the trail of blood and destruction up

  the wall.

&
nbsp; “Back!”

  The drone dropped off the wall, landing amongst the soldiers, who

  opened fire. Zorn legs tore through two of the soldiers as the men scram-

  bled to their feet or shuffled on their backs, guns aimed at the alien.

  The soldiers unloaded their weapons, shredding its body. The drone

  collapsed, black tar oozing from nearly every part of the carcass. The sol-

  diers looked at each other, then at their fallen.

  “Let’s move.”

  * * *

  Meanwhile, on the Abraham, soldiers moved through the corridors in a

  pyramid formation, three standing facing one direction, three kneeling,

  three prone, their bellies on the floor, while three more faced behind them,

  to alert their team to anything approaching from the rear. Movement was

  painstakingly slow, but there was no rush. The crew was towards the front

  end of the ship, and the Zorn drones were in the rear sections. Occasionally

  the lights would flicker, as the damage was extensive in some areas. There

  was noise a few minutes ago, causing an eerie tension amongst those gath-

  ered, but it had since died out.

  A door about twenty meters down the hallway burst open, and a Zorn

  drone barreled into the hallway, atmosphere venting into the now-open

  room. The squad opened fire, half of their rounds hitting the bulkhead that

  closed right in front of them as the breach system activated.

  “Seal us in and override the bulkhead,” the leader, Rimes, said into his

  communication device.

  A few moments later, the bulkhead opened, and air rushed past the

  soldiers again. The Zorn drone was nowhere to be seen.

  “Close the bulkhead!”

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  The squad broke formation and proceeded back down the hallway so they could double back in a parallel hallway.

  An explosion rocked the ship. The soldiers were knocked off their feet,

  and power went offline. The hallway became a confusing cluster of float-

  ing bodies, some of them swearing, some of them scrambling to grab at

  their guns.

  “What the hell happened?”

  “I can’t see anything.”

  “Everyone, shut up!”

  There was a slight vibration in the walls, and they could hear the drone

  again, barreling down the corridor on the other side of the bulkhead. The

  drone pierced the bulkhead and air escaped into the hallway beyond.

  “How is that even possible?” one of the soldiers tried to yell over the

  rush of passing air and gunfire.

  The drone pierced the bulkhead again with its powerful legs, causing

  the air to vent faster. The soldier closest to the bulkhead pulled out a gre-

  nade and dropped it through one of the new holes in the bulkhead. It

  detonated a few seconds later, causing extensive damage to the bulkhead

  and hallway. Air escaped at an increased rate now that the bulkhead itself

  was damaged.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Squad Leader Rimes shouted. It was no use;

  no one could hear anything above the scream of escaping air.

  Rimes pulled several men back behind another bulkhead threshold,

  one yet to be closed. He tried to yell again, but the ability had escaped him, and pressure unlike anything he had ever experienced squashed his chest as

  the vacuum of space drew the air from the corridor. Air was still rushing

  past, but it was getting harder to breathe.

  The bulkhead closed, leaving two soldiers on the other side. The Squad

  Leader released the lever he’d pulled, then drifted away from the wall while

  the men tried to catch their breath. A few of them were choking on oxygen

  as the air pressure in their lungs and surroundings increased.

  More gunfire erupted from somewhere else on the ship. Soldiers

  bounced into each other in the hallway as they grew accustomed to the lack

  of gravity.

  “Did that prick use a grenade?”

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  “That prick is dead, stow it.” Rimes pushed off a bulkhead and led the way towards the connecting hallway.

  Jack stopped his momentum, wearing an EVA suit. He pointed off

  down the corridor, glancing behind them. “There are EVA suits behind the

  bridge. Go put those on before you continue. Captain’s orders.”

  “You heard the Captain, head to the bridge,” Rimes snapped, pushing

  his way along the corridor.

  Jack stopped Rimes in the corridor and let the team pass while he eyed

  the man squarely.

  “One of my guys thought it was a good idea to use a grenade.”

  Jack nodded his head and turned around. “Lose any soldiers?”

  “Two, including that idiot. I heard the other team engage, but I have

  no information on their condition.”

  “That's our alert squad.”

  “Seems like they were already in EVA suits when the battle started. We

  didn’t get the memo, were holed up in the arms room during the battle.

  Got jostled pretty good.”

  Jack noticed the men were wearing standard military uniforms. “Did

  you go through the UEF training program?”

  “Eh, no, sir, my entire unit was touring the Complex. We were in the

  hanger when the attack occurred. We volunteered to come along.”

  Jack led the way to the forward EVA room and showed the soldiers

  how to don the emergency EVA suits. “The suits come equipped with basic

  communications equipment. The alert team is on channel one, you guys

  stay on channel two. I’m monitoring both channels and will relay informa-

  tion if needed. The equipment will activate automatically when you lock

  in your headset. These are emergency suits, they will only provide four

  hours of air. Carry your helmet when you don’t need to use the air, as that

  will disengage the supply. If you get an opportunity, go to the rear EVA

  room. Those suits are bigger and heavier but are better equipped for an

  atmosphere-deficient environment. These suits will help resist the cold of

  space, but they won’t protect you for long.”

  The soldiers struggled into the suits. There were so many interior straps,

  it was hard to know if you were getting in them the correct way.

  More gunfire erupted from deep within the ship, the walls vibrated as a

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  result. The men started panicking, getting frustrated at the suits, until Jack stepped in to assist them and get them fitted properly.

  “The Raziya is lost. We assume all hands. A half-dozen drones were

  walking around the hull like they were bored. The Seraph eventually cut them down. This ship is also out for the count. They picked up a few survivors from the Nuboko. The Seraph is coming to pick us up,” Alex said from within a larger EVA suit, standing in the doorway.

  “Sir, there’s still gunfire. What about the destro—”

  “Our alert team will be last to board while they are hunting drones.

  Keep an eye out. We are moving towards the rear, where we can disembark

  from the ship, guns at the ready. The destroyers that aren’t crippled broke

  off and are regrouping with the rest of their fleet.”

  Jack helped the last man connect his helmet and waited while he slowly

  made his way to the hallway. Alex was at the threshold and grabbed Jack’s

  shoulder as he passed, nodding in appreciation. The bridge crew followed

  close behind, and Alex picked up the rear.
/>   Lanora approached the closed bulkhead and opened it again. Air

  rushed past as the section decompressed again. She led the way down the

  dark hallway, skirting past the two dead soldiers floating in zero gravity,

  and opened another bulkhead door. The door jammed, damaged exten-

  sively from the drone and the battle, leaving a foot of space open at their

  feet to squeeze through.

  “Why do the doors even operate at all?” one of the soldiers asked,

  unaware that everyone could hear him.

  “The bulkhead doors come equipped with a small emergency battery

  in the case of massive power failure. You can use them three or four times

  before the battery dies out.”

  The room they entered was unrecognizable, a cluster of stars on the

  opposite side of the room instead of a wall. The room was a disaster, like a

  hurricane demolished the place. “We can exit here!”

  Two walls were missing, as the pod buried itself into the hull in the

  next room over. She was grateful there wasn’t much wreckage in their way,

  preventing them from disembarking.

  Leaning over the edge of the hull and out into space, she tried to find

  the Seraph. It wasn’t observable, possibly hidden behind the ship they stood 130

  on. She leaned farther out, holding onto a piece of hull wreckage as she let herself drift past the edge of the ship.

  “Be careful!” Alex said over the suit comms.

  “The Seraph is parked right above us!” She looked out into the expanse and took a deep breath as she found another piece to hold, then climbed

  onto the outer hull. Once she was settled against the hull, she turned off her comm system and screamed like she never screamed before, until there was

  not an ounce of air left in her lungs. She pounded the outer hull with her

  fist twice. Each time, she had to readjust her body to counter the weightless

  effects. She whimpered for another moment or two and then turned on the

  comms system again.

  * * *

  Alex looked worriedly up at where Lanora vanished, calling out over the

  radio, “We’re not reading you. You okay?”

  Her voice over the radio relaxed the tension a little amongst the group.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, hit the wrong switch. These suits are clumsy. I see the open

  ramp of the Seraph. We should be able to simply jump and drift inside

  the ship.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that,” one of the soldiers said.