Beast

by Patrick McClafferty

  The shuttle swung around. “Yes, Captain.”

  Solomon watched in silence as the drop shuttle crept invisibly up on the three assailants. As they drew close he stared in disbelief. “They are still painting the hulls in blazing white, and running anticollision lights too?” he muttered, starting to chuckle. “Talk about leading with your chin. AI, do you have your targets set?”

  “Yes, Captain,” the voice in the ship replied. “The ships will be disabled, but should still retain enough atmosphere to allow the crews to be safely rescued.”

  “Good.” Turning in his seat, Solomon smiled at Elora. “Will you please tell our guests that we are about to go into battle, and to hang on?”

  Popping her belt off, the young woman slid to her feet. “I can do that, but don’t you dare start without me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, grinning.

  She was back in a moment and rolled her eyes dramatically at Solomon as she belted herself in. “It seems that the marines found the reclining controls on their seats, and most are sound asleep. Apparently they fought their own battles and are quite content to let us fight ours.”

  Solomon chuckled, remembering very well the propensity for ground fighters to sleep and eat whenever the situation warranted. “Fine. AI, you may fire at your discretion.”

  “Firing,” the emotionless voice murmured as the shuttle bumped three times in quick succession. “Missiles away. Impact in three… two… one… now,” the voice said mildly. The lights on the three Terran ships flickered off. “The ships have been disabled, Captain.”

  Elora frowned. “That was a little anticlimactic. What did we just do, exactly?”

  In way of a response the outside floodlights on the shuttle came on, lighting up all three Terran vessels. The small cutter’s engine nozzles were nothing but twisted remains among a cloud of broken parts. Solomon blinked when he recognized the bent shape of the engine’s combustion chamber. In the floodlights, he saw Terran faces pressed against the small ports, staring back at them.

  “Did they manage to get out a mayday?” Solomon asked in a low voice.

  “Yes, Captain, and it appears that the call was received. All three Terran capital ships have turned and are proceeding in this direction at flank speed, preceded by the other surviving six ships of the Terran fleet.”

  “How long before Gibbs reaches the rendezvous point with the Lost Horizon?”

  “The pinnace will reach the nearer edge of the asteroid field in ten hours, and the Lost Horizon an hour later.”

  Solomon drummed his fingertips on the control console. “I hate this waiting. Maybe we could head back to the capital ships and use up the rest of our seismic charges to—”

  “No!” Elora interrupted his train of thought. “You came up with a good plan, and it was agreed on. You will not go off on a tangent just because you are bored.”

  Solomon continued to drum his fingers, but wisely said nothing.

  “Is the Lost Horizon all set to go, Gibbs?” Solomon asked as the first of the small asteroids slipped by the shuttle’s starboard bow.

  “The Lost Horizon is ready, Captain, and the pinnace is on station a half kilometer from your starboard side. It appears that you’ve really succeeded in aggravating the Terran fleet. Sensors indicate that all ships are pushing their drives well past redline to catch you.”

  “Humph!” Solomon grunted. “Areto, from your position behind the Terran fleet, could you tell if they stopped to pick up their stranded ships… the ones we disabled?”

  “They did not, Captain. They didn’t even respond to the hail from any of the disabled ships.”

  “Damn. Areto, can you snag those three ships as you pass?”

  There was a light laugh from the speaker. “I’ll have the Buddhists in the hangar move over a little so I can fit the ships in. No problem.”

  “I’d forgotten about the Buddhists and the Tibetan tribesmen. It will be a real eye-opener for the Terran crewmen.”

  “That it will, Captain. I should be able to make up any time I lose snagging the cutters. You won’t have to wait for me.”

  “Thank you, Areto.”

  Time passed, and Solomon drummed his fingers.

  Five minutes until party time, Areto’s voice came out of the speaker. “Shuttle, this is Diadem. On station, and weapons are armed.”

  He frowned. “Any problems with the cutters?”

  “The crewmen wouldn’t exit their craft at first, so I sent in my repair nanites to dissolve the ships. After that, it was simply a matter of time. The sixty crewmen stood there in EVA suits, staring at the abbot in his saffron robes until finally one brave young man cracked his seal and removed his helmet. The sight of him eating a bowl of Mongolian beef with his chopsticks was too much for the others, and they all shed their suits. They were all so busy eating real food that they never noticed the nanites dissolve their suits.”

  Solomon let out a breath he’d been holding. “Very good, Areto. We’re almost up to showtime, so stand by.”

  “Standing by.”

  “The pinnace has reached the Lost Horizon, Solomon,” Gibbs said softly, “and is beginning her retrieval.”

  “When the drop shuttle is recovered and the door closed, you can begin the show. Coordinate with Areto for your first strike and jam their coms. We definitely don’t want them calling home with word of this. Take out the command control ship first, and then the drives of all the other ships. Try to spare lives as much as possible, but don’t let that endanger you or Diadem.”

  “Understood, Captain,” Gibbs replied solemnly.

  Areto just snorted. “Are you kidding? I’m having a problem dialing my weapons down low enough. Those Terran ships really are very flimsy.”

  Solomon sighed. “Copy, Areto. Do your best.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  The hangar door closed behind the drop shuttle, and Gibbs’s voice came over the speaker. “Areto and I are now sending out the invitations to the party, Captain.”

  Solomon unfastened his belt and leaned back in his seat to watch the show on the shuttle’s tactical display, which he’d slaved to the Lost Horizon. Beside him, Elora had unfastened her belt and propped her feet on the control console. Solomon turned to see the marines craning their necks to watch the upcoming fight. “Oorah, gentlemen. If you’d like to sit back down, I’ll send the tactical display to the screen in the passenger compartment.”

  “Semper Fi,” one replied as they squeezed back out of the flight deck.

  A ripple of flame, starting with a bright flash at the command and control ship, spread outward to sweep the small fleet. Navigation lights flickered off, and from the speakers, there was silence.

  Solomon frowned. “Diadem, Lost Horizon, light them up, if you please.”

  Similar to the wet navy starshells, three space starshells exploded around the fleet, lighting the drifting damaged ships like they were all in the orbit of Mercury rather than past Mars.

  Solomon took a deep breath. “Put me through to those ships please, Gibbs.”

  “You’re on, Captain.”

  “Well, well, well, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” Solomon said, paraphrasing the famous line by Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. “I think that you had better surrender before I lose my patience. I’ve already evaporated three of your ships, and you didn’t even realize it.” He glanced at a list forwarded to him by Areto. “Lieutenants Vanya Ivanova, Thea Galani, and Thomas Patterson were understandably upset.”

  “The fleet is trying to call Terra for help,” Gibbs supplied in a casual voice.

  “Oh, dear,” Solomon said to the Terran fleet. “I can’t have you calling home to Mommy, can I?” He smiled. “Areto, burn every antenna off the command and control ship… on second thought, burn off the high-gain antennas on every ship.”

  The targeted ships glowed for a single instant, and every antenna and mast was gone, burned off down to the hull.

  “Thank you. T
hat’s much better. Now, Terran fleet, we were talking about your surrender. Please bear in mind that you can neither call for help nor run. Fighting, of course, is just plain silly if you wish to see tomorrow.”

  “This is Air Marshal Florijan Cvetko,” an angry voice said from the speaker. “Who am I speaking to?”

  “My name is Malachai Fontaine, Air Marshal. I’m the son of Giuseppe Fontaine, and I’ll let you mull that over for a few minutes.” He made a gesture to cut the connection. “Okay, Gibbs, what else can they do?”

  “The largest of the capital ships appears to be some sort of a carrier. The Terrans will probably launch a fighter strike against us… if they can find us.”

  Solomon stared at the carrier. “Is it my imagination, or does that carrier have big metal plates that slide closed over the hangar bay?”

  “It does have sliding doors, Solomon. All the Terran capital ships have hangar doors like those.”

  “Would it be possible to… weld those doors closed?” Solomon grinned.

  Elora snorted a laugh.

  “Without significant problems, Captain.”

  Solomon was biting his cheek to keep from laughing. “At your and Areto’s convenience then, please weld those doors closed.”

  “Working… working…” Gibbs hummed. “Working… working… the hangar doors are welded shut, Captain.”

  “Thank you, my friend. Please put me through to the air marshal.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Ah, Air Marshal Cvetko. How are you doing, welded up in your little tin cans and unable to call for help?” His voice hardened. “Do you still feel like bombing Mars?”

  “Damn you,” the air marshal growled. “We surrender.”

  “Excellent. That was a very sensible decision. I’ve given this considerable thought, and I have decided to tow your ships back to Mars orbit, where I will give you all twenty-four hours to abandon ship. After that, I will drop your fleet into the Martian desert. Whether you live or die on Mars will be up to you, but I must warn you that the residents of Mars are aware of your plans and may bear you a slight bit of ill will.”

  “We’ll all die in the godforsaken pest hole,” Air Marshal Cvetko growled.

  “I was born on Mars, Air Marshal, and I’m sure that you will come to find the world quite attractive. Your children may even be able to breathe the air.” He chuckled without mirth. “After losing an entire fleet, I wouldn’t expect Terra to come charging to your rescue any time soon. In fact, they will probably send bombs, so I would keep my eyes open if I were you. Fontaine out.” Solomon signaled for the connection to be cut.

  “Is there some particular reason that you never allowed the Terran fleet to see the Lost Horizon or the Diadem?” Gibbs asked.

  Solomon smiled. “For the sheer terror of it. They will never know for sure who or what crushed their fleet. Did we have one invisible ship or a thousand? How do you defend yourself against something you can’t see or understand? All the air marshal saw when we spoke was two people sitting at the controls of a small shuttle.”

  In the distance, Solomon heard the boarding ramp thud open and the sound of voices as marine Staff Sergeant Emilio Rodríguez took firm charge of his newest recruits.

  “Let’s go.” He grinned, pushing himself to his feet. “I need a bath, a good meal, and about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep.” He gave Elora a pointed look. “Perhaps tomorrow we could go swimming?”

  Elora took his arm as they descended the ramp. “What about the fleet and Mars and the battle and all the corners you painted yourself into?” An impish smile flickered across her face.

  He thought as he walked down the now-familiar corridor. “Gibbs and Areto are smart AIs, much smarter than I am, in fact. They know how I would like the Terran fleet disposed of and can handle it quite well, thank you very much; and if you hadn’t noticed by now, the paint in all the corners is finally dry.”

  “Well now…” she murmured, holding his arm a little tighter.

  Chapter 12

  CODA

  The sky was clear, pocked occasionally with white puffball cumulus clouds, when the two warships arrived in orbit above Shangri-La. The sleek white pinnace departed the Lost Horizon immediately, banking and descending to the lush planet below. Almost at once, two deadly looking fighters rose from the ground to fall in on either side of the descending craft. Solomon glanced at the sleek Sabina-class fighters and rolled his eyes. “Gibbs, I thought I told you no fanfare.”

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” the calm, unrepentant voice of the AI replied. “Areto thought an honor guard would be a good idea, and I bowed to her greater military acumen.”

  “You are so full of shit, Gibbs,” Solomon snarled, but with a grin on his face.

  “Thank you, sir,” the AI said dryly.

  Jean-Philippe Lémery, the head of the international team exploring Shangri-La, along with his wife and several dozen colonists, both old and new, crowded the edge of the landing area as the pinnace set down. As soon as the ramp touched the ground and Solomon began to descend, he stepped forward with his hand extended. “Bonne journée, mon ami.” With a wide smile, he shook Solomon’s hand vigorously.

  Solomon had just recovered his fingers from the grinning Frenchman when his wife, Marie, stepped forward and kissed Solomon warmly on both cheeks. Her smile was as wide as Jean-Philippe’s. “Bonjour, Solomon. It is very good to have you back again.”

  Solomon glanced over his shoulder to where a young man in a marine uniform was standing stiffly at the bottom of the ramp. “Fall out, Private,” he said in a compassionate voice. “Feel free to greet your parents.”

  Lucien Lémery shot Solomon a quick look and smiled. “Merci, Capitaine.” He took two steps and swept his mother into a warm embrace that left her feet several centimeters off the ground. Marie looked flustered for a moment before she returned the hug.

  “Did all go as you hoped?” Jean-Philippe asked as the party turned for the compound.

  “About as well as we could hope,” Solomon admitted. “I managed to prevent Terran forces from sterilizing Mars, and I succeeded in rescuing my family and their… ahh, retainers, I suppose you’d call them. Areto has a Buddhist temple and a small Tibetan village tucked away in her hangar. I plan to give them an entire mountain for their home, with strict rules that they are not to be disturbed. If they want to trade, that’s fine, but the mountain is theirs.” He took a deep breath of the fresh air. “Before we left the Sol System, the Lost Horizon revisited Terra. Using their own communication satellites, we warned them never to threaten the innocents on Mars again, and then we systematically removed every single satellite from Terran orbit, and using our tractors, carefully took hold of all three space stations and set them down on the moon within walking distance of the Chinese lunar base. I’m very afraid that the space stations will only be good for scrap after this. I’m sure that the Terran-based generals realized very quickly that the person who controls the orbitals controls the planet. That we didn’t obliterate Terra is probably bothering them more than the fact that we took out the satellites and space stations.” He chuckled. “Since we were sitting in a low lunar orbit over the dark side of the moon, Terra never caught a single glimpse of us. They did, however, get a very good recorded clip of the vaunted Terran fleet falling into the Martian atmosphere.”

  Jean-Philippe nodded, giving Solomon a shy smile. “That is very good. We have done some work on your proposed camp. You will find suitable accommodations for several hundred all ready for you. Will you be staying there?”

  Solomon stared at the sky for some time and bit his lip. “Although I’ll call Shangri-La my home, I think that my place is up there.” He nodded to the heavens. “With as many as would like to come along, I propose to switch my command to Diadem and leave the Lost Horizon here for planetary defense. According to the best galactic maps Areto was able to come up with, there are many Adaari worlds to explore.” He gave the Frenchman a wink. “I think that Gibbs would be much happi
er working with you anyway. I believe that I made him nervous, for some strange reason.” He took another deep breath of the clean air. “How are the new colonists adapting to their home?”

  Jean-Philippe let out a loud laugh. “Half of them are sorry that they slept through the excitement. Some of the scientists in both the old and new colonists have expressed a desire to travel with you, to explore the universe.”

  “Oh, they have?” He chuckled. “I’ll see what Areto can do to accommodate at least some of them.” His face sobered. “Have you had any more… trouble?”

  “No, my friend,” Jean-Philippe replied. “Before she left to join you, Areto had us gather all the robotic remains we could find. Those she loaded into a shuttle and returned it to Diadem. She told us that processed ores were exactly what she needed for her repairs. She scanned the world and found no more active robots, but I fear that there may be more out there… somewhere. It is a very good thing to have Gibbs protecting us here, if you and my son will be off exploring.” He gestured to the open gate and the camp beyond.

  Solomon was relieved to see guards armed with heavy energy weapons in all the towers. Even in the unlikely chance that Terran forces arrived at Shangri-La, they would find the armed compound a tough nut to crack with anything less than planetary bombardment, and Solomon planned to make regular trips to the Sol System to make sure that never happened. Terran High Command was probably still scratching their collective heads, wondering just what the hell had happened. The crowd of colonists swept in, and both Solomon and Elora were carried away by the excited throng.

  Solomon and Elora sat close together on the wide couch in the captain’s quarters, sipping the deep-red Martian Cabernet and watching the flickering flames of the holographic fireplace in Solomon’s quarters aboard the Diadem. The fire was so realistic that Solomon could burn his fingers on the glowing coals, toast marshmallows, and if he concentrated, smell the faintest odor of pine smoke. Reaching over, he refilled Elora’s glass and then his.