by Evan Currie
*****
“Holy shit.”
Brolin ignored the swearing from his RIO, mostly because he was saying pretty much the same thing himself. They were coming in closer to the mushroom cloud, looking for sign of the target, and boy did they find it. The jelly was moving fast, smoke curling around it as it climbed, now coming into hypersonic and accelerating out of the cloud.
“Did we do that?” Beakman asked.
Good question.
The jelly had changed, like it had… opened somehow? It now had three separate body components joined by the tentacles.
“I… don’t know,” Brolin admitted. “It looks a little regular to be battle damage, I think?”
Instead of one large body, the three segments were more like discs now instead of a single amorphous body, hanging evenly one atop the other as the whole thing continued to climb.
“Get photos,” Brolin ordered, “I’m going for a target lock.”
“Roger that, Boss.”
They had two more arrows in the quiver, and the authorization to use them, so he was going to do just that. Whatever this thing was, it had caused havoc over Hong Kong, actually scorched Berlin, and was the likely culprit behind the wave of superhuman terror events happening all around the world.
One way or another, it wasn’t getting away.
Brolin would make damn sure of that.
*****
Hale didn’t know what to make of the new form the target was showing. It looked like some bizarre chandelier or maybe a wind chime or something. In any event, the nuke had some something, even if he couldn’t really be sure what that something was exactly. He increased his speed to overtake the fleeing target, noting the distant whine of the Blackbird growing closer.
He looked over, spotting the aircraft as it too was closing on the target, and shifted course slightly to come up alongside.
The pilot was too focused on whatever he was doing to spot him, but Hale saw the man in the rear seat jerk slightly and turn to stare so he waved a simple salute and was amused to get a hesitant wave in return. The pilot looked up then, probably alerted by his co-pilot, and also stared for a moment.
Without a direct channel between them there wasn’t much more they could do to communicate, so Hale returned his focus on ahead.
The target was moving up into the upper atmosphere now, trailing smoke as it did but the fires were all out.
He didn’t know for sure what was up with the changes he was seeing, but as they didn’t look like nuclear devastation, he was betting on them being bad news in some way or another.
He tapped the earpiece.
“Pierson.”
“I don’t know if you’re seeing this, but I have eyes on some damn strange changes in the target.”
“Roger that,” Pierson said, “Striker One has eyes on as well, and some damn good surveillance gear. We have people analyzing the changes now, and it’s… interesting.”
“Is it?” Hale asked, uncertain.
“The new configuration bears resemblance to a quantum computing rig,” She said, “I’ve seen one in action before, a lot smaller and cruder than that thing, but the design is oddly similar.”
“I… have no idea what to think about that,” Hale admitted.
“No one here does either,” Pierson said, “We thought it might be a ship, but there’s less room for any sort of crew than we thought, now we’re uncertain if it’s a living organism or just some sort of drone. Frankly, everyone here is at a loss.”
“Mission parameters the same?”
“Oh you bet your Marine ass they are. We want that thing gone,” Pierson said, “Striker One is going for another positive lock even now. They’re going to hit it again.”
“Roger that,” Hale responded, “I can take the heat and I think the rads, so I’ll move in fast after they launch, and see if I can make sure it goes down.”
“I’ll relay. Good luck, and good hunting, Captain.”
*****
“Striker One, you’re clear to engage the target. The Marine will close after the blast to confirm target down.”
Brolin blinked, looking out the side of the cockpit again to where the man in tattered and singed BDUs was flying alongside them.
“Uh… roger that, control. Striker One is inbound on an attack run,” He said finally, closing the channel.
He looked at the airspeed indicator, and then the altimeter, then back at the man flying alongside them and he sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Beakman asked.
“We’re doing Mach four point three, at Angels Seventy,” Brolin said, “and a Marine is keeping pace with us under his own power.”
Beakman snickered, “Fair point. Jealous?”
“Of course not,” Brolin said, his tone flat.
“Right.”
“Shut up.” Brolin growled, “Acquiring the target.”
The target was moving fast now, enough that they were going to start losing ground once the course diverged enough. Their window for engagement was thin and growing thinner by the moment.
“I have tone,” He announced, checking the numbers. “I’m not sure we’re going to get a third shot, so let’s make this one count.”
“Roger that, Sir. We’re clear.”
“Striker One… Fox One!”
*****
Hale flinched slightly as the nuclear missile dropped from the blackbird and roared off across the night sky.
It was a muted sound, this high up, like almost everything his senses were reporting. Sound, smells, both were muffled almost by the thinner atmosphere. His sight, however, was spectacularly enhanced, and the higher he went the farther it felt like he could see.
It was something he’d noticed some time earlier, but still struck him every time he climbed up to this altitude or beyond.
He watched the missile as it dwindled in the distance, the thermal flare of the rocket blotting out the rest of the weapon as it closed on the target. Hale tensed, getting ready to fly forward as he lifted his left arm to shield his eyes from the flash.
Hale flinched involuntarily when a flash happened, but then blinked when he realized it was much smaller than he’d expected.
He waited a moment longer, frowning as nothing more happened, the tapped his earpiece.
“Pierson.”
“What just happened?” Hale demanded.
“We’re still working on that, but we believe the target engaged point defenses.”
Hale swore, “Why now? Why not before?”
Pierson made a sound that could have meant anything, “It didn’t recognize the missile as a threat? Maybe it’s the new configuration? We don’t know.”
“Tell the bird to hold their last shot,” Hale growled, “I’m going in.”
He closed the channel before she could respond, accelerating rapidly as he went straight at the target.
*****
“Holy shit! How fast is he?” Brolin swore, watching the flying man vanish out ahead of them, having suddenly accelerated fast enough to make them look like they were sitting still.
“Mach Five point eight and accelerating,” Beakman answered, “flash traffic from control, by the way. The Marine is engaging, we’re to hold off on our last shot unless we think we can get it through the defenses.”
“How the hell are we supposed to know if we can pull that off?” Brolin asked.
“No clue, control says the ball is in our lap, though. Use your best judgment,” Beakman said, “No pressure.”
Brolin snorted. “Is that all they say?”
“Priority request from a… Colonel Pierson?” Beakman said with a shrug, “don’t know him, but he wants high resolution imagery of the Marine as he engages.”
“Can we do that?” Brolin asked, uncertain.
“Already doing it,” Beakman said, “I’m as interested as everyone else, after all. I want to see this fight.”
Brolin snorted, “Of course you do.”
“You saying you don’t w
ant me to stream the feed over to you?”
“Hell no, give me that.”
*****
Hale slashed in, still accelerating as he closed on the point the missile had been intercepted at, eyes open and alert as he looked for any sign he was about to get splashed as hard as the nuke had been. Time felt sluggish around him as he did, but even in that state he was moving damned fast and he knew it.
When one of the tentacles swung up, Hale darted to the left, then down, before corkscrewing back up to the right. He felt more than saw the blast that had tried to burn him out of the sky, searing his skin through radiated energy alone. He ignored it, broaching the point defense zone and getting in close with the target.
Hopefully it can’t target me in this close, he thought grimly as he aimed for the center of the three disks and increased his acceleration again.
Hale hit the target at speeds high enough that he could feel his BDUs burning despite the fact that they were flame retardant and heat resistant. He extended his arm and just tore at the structure holding the discs together as he passed, his arm effectively a kinetic warhead that struck with a power exceeding most conventional weapons.
He was jerked around slightly, and his arm felt like it was being torn out of the socket, but the connector gave before he did and tore to shreds as he passed, already curling around in a stupidly high gee turn as he made another attack run.
Before he could get close again, three tentacles swept up to intercept him at close range, moving terrifyingly fast. He ducked one, twisted around another, and then just flat out tanked the third by catching it on crossed arms and powering through the attack on his way to his target.
Once he was back in amid the discs, Hale just started tearing at everything he could as fast and hard as he could manage.
*****
USSOCOM Bunker, Virginia
“Dear god, that’s terrifying,” The Air Force General swore.
“The fact that the thing survived one nuke, then toasted another,” Isaacs asked, “Or what Hale is doing to it now?”
“Yes.”
On screen, in shockingly good quality video, they were watching the Marine tear through the target with a fervor usually associated with Vikings and their less sociable tendencies. Most of the room quietly watched with rapt attention, but Pierson was on the phone to the President even as the fighting continued to get more and more heated between Hale and the target.
“Yes, Mr President,” She said, “I am serious. We need to broadcast this. People were on the edge… hell, they were over the edge just a few minutes ago. The fight over Germany has people transfixed, they need to see that we can’t be fighting amongst ourselves right now. We need to show them that there is an external enemy. Hale is the focus of billions at the moment, let him carry us through this.”
She silently listened for a moment, then sighed.
“I know it’s a possibility, Mr President, but if that happens then we have a Martyr instead of a Hero. Either way, it’s what we need. This is the hand we’re dealt, Sir. There’s no value in sitting on this, we have to go all in.”
Another pause as she listened, another sigh, but this time it held a tone of relief mixed with the weariness.
“Thank you sir. Goodbye Mr President.”
Pierson hung up the phone, then walked over to the NSA analysts’ desk.
“Presidential orders,” She said, “Send this feed to the networks.”
The analyst twisted, shock on his face.
“Ma’am?”
“Just do it.”
“Yes Ma’am.”
Pierson only then turned to watch the scene, hoping that she wasn’t about to create a martyr for humanity. She’d much rather a symbol leading them in person that posthumously. Either way, however, she was not about to let whatever the hell that thing was tear down her world without a fight.
*****
Berlin
“What the hell, Pitr? Stop shoving!”
Tessa pulled clear of his grip, glowering angrily at him, but Pitr blithely ignored her rage.
“Didn’t you see what that was?” He said, closing the rift behind them.
“A bomb?” Malcolm asked, shrugging.
“The bomb. A nuke,” Pitr said, “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I’m not planning on glowing in the dark. Go turn on the TV, let’s see what the hell is going on out there.”
Shocked into silence, the other two did as he asked, turning on the screen that was the center of the underground space they’d appeared in.
The news had talking heads going constantly, but they ignored most of that. Instead, Tessa flipped around until she found a live feed that claimed to be from the Americans via some sort of surveillance in the area.
“Damn, that’s a high quality image,” Malcolm said, surprised.
Tessa just nodded silently, eyes focused on the figure in the center of the screen. It was the Marine, of course, tearing away at chunks of the thing they’d been fighting. He looked somewhat the worse for wear, his uniform a tattered, charred, mess. She licked her lips slightly as the image zoomed in especially close, showing a shower of sparks cascading over his body as he ripped some component or another in two.
“Yeah… high quality,” She agreed.
“Holy hell,” Pitr swore. “What the hells is that thing anyway?”
*****
Blue Solar HQ, London
“This is a nightmare.”
It really couldn’t be anything else, Wesley thought, almost hopefully.
The thing had survived a nuclear strike!
What the hell were they supposed to do against something that could do that!?
Now they were watching a feed from what had to be a bleeding edge surveillance system, and the goddamned bloody marine was tearing it apart with his bare hands!
If it can survive a nuclear strike, what the hell does it say about him that he can do that!?
Wesley didn’t know, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
This changes everything. The world won’t ever be the same. Can’t ever be the same.
*****
Chapter 16
German Airspace
Hale landed on the middle disc, examining the layout around him with some interest.
It was one of the stranger environments he’d ever experienced, and that was coming from someone who’d gone suborbital on his own power, but he didn’t have time to enjoy the scenery. The target was still accelerating fast, moving for orbit faster than even he was entirely comfortable with.
In the distance he could see the vague outline of the blackbird following them up, but he wasn’t sure how much longer the aircraft could keep up. He had heard a lot of stories about the legend of the SR-71, and was sure it was one hell of a capable bird, but Hale was also pretty sure they were almost into orbit proper.
He cast about, spotting another tentacle coming his way and jumped to the attack. He had to disable the point defenses, and that was the best solution he could find… just tear them all out by the roots. So he charged from one side to another, engaging the tentacles as quickly as he could, damaging anything could manage.
*****
Alerts were blaring across the probes senses, the individual within it’s defensive perimeter was tearing apart everything it could reach, leaving almost nothing functional in its wake. The probe processed response options, but found few viable ones.
Survival was a secondary priority, however.
The Primary remained the completion of the current mission.
The probe ran the calculations one final time, noting the altitude and velocity as being sufficient for the task, then it initiated the final command.
Proceed with the operation.
Convocation approves.
Operation commencing.
*****
Hale was lunging for another tentacle when he was hit in the face by a thick mist, some sort of gas spray from the top disc that caught him by surprise.
; Coughing, he fought through it, tearing the tentacle apart and lifting off the section he’d been standing on. His lungs were full of the gas as he felt himself getting dizzy, and Hale hoped he’d done enough.
He tapped the earpiece.
“Pierson.”
“Tell them…” Hale coughed, “Tell them to fire.”
“Hale? Is that you? I can barely hear anything? Are you alright?”
Hale grimaced, falling away from the target, realizing that he was in near vacuum. He fumbled with the earpiece, trying to get it switched over to the induction mode. It sounded muffled that way, but it would pick up his voice right from the vibrations through his body. He blinked tears from his eyes, feeling oddly sick.
“Hale? Hale!”
What the hell did I get gassed with? Nerve toxin?
His immediate symptoms didn’t seem to match, but he didn’t know for sure that he was judging them right.
Finally he got the earpiece flipped over.
“Hale! Are you there?”
“I’m…” He coughed, “here. Tell Striker to fire.”
“Hale, you need to get clear first.”
“Tell them to fire!”
*****
USSOCOM Bunker, Virginia
Pierson winced as the rasping voice came over the phone. He was using the induction system, she could tell, something she knew he didn’t like to do unless he was basically in orbit because of how it made him sound. She hesitated, but only for a moment, after hearing his command.
“Tell Striker they’re clear to engage,” She ordered numbly.
“Are you sure, Colonel?” The Air Force General asked softly.
Pierson just nodded.
The General gave the nod to the communications controller.
“Striker One, Striker One, you are clear to engage. Say again, you are clear to engage. Take them down, Striker.”
*****
Above German Airspace
The nose of the SR-71 was almost vertical as the big plane stood on it’s engines and climbed for the skies.
“Passing Angels One Hundred!” Beakman called. “One Ten! Colonel, we’re not going to have air to burn for much longer!”
Brolin snorted, “That’s fine, Beakman, cause we’re not going to have fuel to burn for much longer. We’re on fumes.”
