The Hive Invasion- The Complete Trilogy

by Jake Elwood

He checked the status windows on his display screen one last time. The Bayonet still hung all alone in the void, unnoticed by the enemy. The Gate crew would be powering up the new Gate within the hour.

  Meanwhile, teams of colonists led by personnel from the Achilles were creeping through the outskirts of Harlequin. They would take advantage of the chaos Hammett was about to unleash to destroy the mystery structure the aliens were building in the heart of the city.

  It's too late to dither, Richard. That Gate is going to light up the sky. Those commandos are going to encounter the enemy and start a shit storm. You couldn't stop things now if your life depended on it. There's nowhere to go but forward.

  "Thirty seconds," said Touhami.

  Hammett nodded. The plan was to launch the Tomahawk in the last few seconds before the orbiting cluster of alien ships came over the horizon. In some ways this was the worst part of any battle, the last few seconds when every decision was made and there was nothing to do but sit, nerves stretched tight, and wait.

  "Time," said Touhami.

  Benson's hands moved and the ship surged upward. The acceleration pressed Hammett hard into his seat, catching him by surprise. He was accustomed to cruisers, with stronger internal force fields and slower acceleration. He still missed the Alexander, but there was something exhilarating about the Tomahawk.

  The ground disappeared in the blink of an eye. Wisps of cloud flashed past the windows on either side, and then he saw stars. The bridge had no forward-facing windows, but his display screen showed the Hive cluster, dead ahead. "Bring us in close," he said. "Stand by lasers."

  His seat pressed against him as the Tomahawk accelerated forward. He watched the alien ship grow in the display screen. He wanted to slice it up before it could separate into component pieces. He wanted to get as close as possible first, though.

  "Fire when we reach a thousand kilometers," he said, and Kaur nodded. In past encounters the alien EMP weapon had disabled their electronics at a range of 800 kilometers. Hammett wanted the full benefit of the ship's targeting systems for his opening salvo.

  "Lasers firing," Kaur announced, and Hammett watched his display screen. If there was damage to the alien cluster he couldn't see it. The Tomahawk continued to close with the enemy, and he waited for his screen to flare and die. After a moment he said, "What's our range?"

  "Five hundred kilometers and closing.

  They haven't fried our computers yet. Why not? He had a moment of queasy fear, wondering what nasty surprise the aliens were cooking up instead. He squashed the line of thought before he could work himself into a panic. They've abandoned the EMP weapon because we fought through it last time. Or they're panicking and they forgot to pull the trigger. Or the weapon needs ammunition, and they've run out. Or it's a logistics problem. You'll probably never know why they dropped the ball. Forget about it, and capitalize on their mistake.

  "Match velocities," Hammett said, then braced himself as the ship tried to fling him out of his chair. "Fire at targets of opportunity."

  From this point on the gunners and the ship's computer could fire faster without Hammett's direct supervision. He watched the cluster break apart into a cloud of individual ships, and saw a handful of ships shred in a withering storm of rail gun fire. Alien ships flashed past the windows on either side, and he saw one glow as a laser caught it. A metallic clatter told him the fighter was disengaging from the hull. A moment later he had to grab the arms of his chair as the Tomahawk twisted and spun, dodging enemy fire and bringing her rail guns to bear on targets on every side.

  Chunks of a shattered ship thumped against the port window, making Hammett flinch. He was in the middle of a wild brawl, and all he could do was hang on and wait to see how it ended.

  CHAPTER 14 - BACA

  Juanita Baca watched her display flash green, telling her the Stinger was safely separated from the Tomahawk. She goosed the engine and surged away from the corvette, steering into the swarm of aliens surrounding her like a cloud of lethal mosquitoes. The controls were light and responsive, which was strangely disconcerting. She had barely practised flying with computer assistance. They'd assumed the alien EMP weapon would fry the Stinger's electronics before she even launched.

  She swung to starboard, went too far, and nearly collided with an enemy ship. She overcorrected, went looping out into empty space, cursed, and steered back in. A ship came at her, she squeezed off a burst of laser fire, the ship twisted away, and she winced as her shot missed the Tomahawk by a hair.

  Alien ships darted back and forth, quick as lightning, and she hesitated, afraid to plunge into that maelstrom. They were so fast! I can't cope with this. I can't!

  Habits and training were already taking over, though. She watched a small ship race past and swung in behind it, her hands becoming more delicate on the controls, her feet barely touching the control pedals. Terror still filled her, but she drew on some deep reservoir of calm, the part of her that had learned to keep on thinking, keep on solving problems, no matter what the universe threw at her.

  She came in behind the little alien, holding her fire until she was murderously close. She fired, watched her lasers splash a red glow across some kind of energy shield, and kept firing. After a moment the shield failed and her lasers sliced deeply into the craft.

  An alarm blared, she felt heat against her right arm and leg, and she jerked the Stinger sideways, pulling into a tight corkscrew. She caught a quick glimpse of the ship that had been toasting her. It was a big one, three ships joined together to increase their firepower. She tapped her nose thruster to brake, watched the big alien fly past, and fired a quick burst from her rail gun. Three ships together would boost each other's shields, making her lasers close to useless. They made a nice big target for kinetic weapons, though.

  One ship broke away in time to survive. The other two absorbed a short, devastating volley. Her rounds punched through the skin of the ships and exploded inside, destroying one ship completely and sending the other spinning away, trailing smoke.

  Baca went after the third ship, sliced the nose away with her lasers, then forgot all about it as ships closed in from every side. She fled for the Tomahawk, racing close along the hull and letting the corvette's lasers tear into her pursuers.

  For a moment there was clear space around her, and she braked, then looped around the corvette, looking for close targets. Manoeuvring thrusters glowed and the Tomahawk twisted and spun, changing directions with astonishing dexterity. Rail gun rounds sprayed from her nose in a glittering stream, and an alien ship drifted away, dead in space.

  She didn't see the cluster forming. Six or eight ships came together in a clump, looming suddenly huge in front of her as the Stinger arced once more around the Tomahawk. For an awful moment she thought the Stinger was the target. When the cluster rushed the Tomahawk she felt a flash of relief, followed quickly by shame. You're supposed to be protecting the corvette, Nita. Do your job.

  The Stinger raced forward, and she wasted precious seconds firing her lasers. Her fire had no effect on the cluster except to make a pretty light show. She could see hull plates on the Tomahawk glowing and peeling away, and she fired a quick burst from her rail gun. She didn't have much ammunition—the rounds were massive enough to hamper the Stinger's manoeuvrability—but she had a few good squirts.

  Explosions tore apart a couple of ships on the near side of the cluster, and the Tomahawk spun in place, pointing its nose at the attacker. The cluster promptly broke apart, an instant before solid rail gun rounds shredded one ship in the middle. The survivors fled in different directions, and Baca scorched one with a laser before returning to the corvette.

  After that she spent a couple of frustrating minutes chasing ships that wouldn't engage her. They would dart in and zip away unscathed, encouraging Baca and the Tomahawk to waste fuel and ammunition trying to react. She managed a couple of glancing laser shots that lit up the alien shields but did no damage. Well, maybe we have them scared. We made them bleed, and they're
afraid to come together in clumps. We can't hurt them, but they can't hurt us, and that's good enough for me.

  Are they close to breaking? Maybe if we can do just a little more damage … Her thumb moved to the trigger for the rail gun. I've got a couple of hundred kilos of explosive rounds. I'll be more manoeuvrable when they're gone. If there's nothing left to save them for …

  She hesitated, and a moment later she was glad she had. Another clump was forming, more than a dozen ships coming together directly aft of the Tomahawk, and she licked her lips. I'll empty the magazine into them, and finish off the survivors with lasers. They won't even get close to the corvette.

  "You've got bogeys coming together on your tail, Tomahawk," she said. "I'm on it, though." She pulled in close to the corvette and raced aft. The clump made a beautiful target, and she dove straight at it, firing.

  But the clump seemed to disintegrate as she swept in. There were fewer ships than she'd thought, maybe nine at the most, and they popped apart into three smaller clumps. Her first salvo passed harmlessly through empty space as the three ships separated.

  They didn't flee. They rushed forward to meet the Stinger.

  They were never all joined together. They were faking me out. What are they up to?

  She had her answer a moment later as all three amalgamated ships converged on her. She fired another burst and thought she might have grazed one ship in the last instant before they reached her. Then she had ships all around her, three clusters of three, and the entire cockpit glowed red. She smelled burning protein, saw bits of singed hair drift past her eyes, and she twisted frantically on the controls, jerking the ship sideways in a desperate attempt to escape.

  Alarms blared in her ears, mingling with the sound of her own voice screaming. Alarm messages filled her displays. She could see the planet directly ahead, and she jerked back on the control stick.

  Nothing happened.

  "Tomahawk. I'm in trouble."

  If anyone responded she didn't hear it over the blare of the alarms. She silenced them one by one, then went to work testing her controls.

  "I've lost all the manoeuvring thrusters in the nose," she said, just in case someone was listening. The Tomahawk couldn't do anything for her, but speaking to her friends eased the sense of terrified isolation that suddenly gripped her. "I've got at least one thruster left in the tail. I'm going to try to get the nose up, and then I'll see if I can grab some altitude."

  Her displays flickered and flashed. Several screens died, and the control stick was suddenly stiff in her hands. Full manual. Finally, what I trained for. She pushed the stick left, which would have fired the thruster on the right side of the ship's nose if it had still been working. It did fire the left-side tail thruster, and the ship rotated lazily to port.

  "Okay, that's one thruster working. So far, so good." She shoved the stick to the right. There was nowhere near enough resistance, and she wasn't surprised when the ship didn't respond. "Tomahawk, it feels like most of my controls have torn loose." She pushed forward on the stick. "I'm going to try a forward roll. With a bit of luck I'll go all the way around and end up pointing straight up."

  The Stinger began to vibrate, and she thought for a moment it was the aft ventral thruster firing. The nose wasn't going down, though. It rose instead, and she realized she was plunging into Naxos's upper atmosphere.

  Which was toxic, she recalled. She would have to find a way to either crash in the Green Crater or get back up to the Tomahawk. "Come on, baby. Come on, give me something."

  She could see the horizon straight ahead. If she could just get the nose to lift a bit, she could try the main engine. "Come on," she repeated, and jiggled the control stick. Her fear was growing, threatening to overwhelm her. "Tomahawk, can you hear me?" She leaned forward and peered up through the cockpit window, hoping for a glimpse of the ship.

  Instead she saw a cluster of three alien craft, directly above her and dropping fast. It grew until it filled her vision. She could see a black circle on the hull above her, staring down like a cold mechanical eye. Except it wasn't cold. The last thing she saw was a red glow that enveloped the black circle in the instant before it fired.

  CHAPTER 15 - HAMMETT

  Combat was a whole different experience with a working computer.

  Holographic projections hovered all around Hammett's chair, showing him the entire field of battle. Kaur had a similar display at Operations. Enemy ships appeared in red, each with a tiny red number beside it. When ships merged the computer would select one number to display and hide the rest until the cluster broke apart again.

  The Stinger had appeared in green. It was gone from the display now, a fact which Hammett ruthlessly pushed from his thoughts. There would be time for mourning later.

  God willing, there would be time.

  He wore a vac suit and helmet with the faceplate retracted. They all did. The helmet interfered with his peripheral vision, but to fly into combat without it, especially in a ship this small, would be foolhardy. The suits and helmets turned the bridge crew into anonymous, featureless shapes. He glanced at the back of Kaur's helmet.

  "Target Seven," Hammett said. "Port side aft."

  The ship swung around, and he braced a foot against the deck, fighting the pull of centrifugal force. For a moment he glimpsed the ship in question as it flashed past the port window. It was a cluster of three or four ships, and it broke apart as the nose of the Tomahawk came around. A stream of rail gun rounds destroyed one ship and damaged another, but two more escaped. The aliens were learning, adapting, faster than he liked.

  "Forward," he said. "Into the midst of them."

  He felt the Tomahawk move, and an alien ship suddenly loomed huge in the starboard window. One of the Tomahawk's powerful laser batteries sliced the alien neatly in two, and the haves tumbled away, then vanished as the Tomahawk twisted to meet a fresh threat.

  "Forward port side," Kaur said, and Hammett checked the holo display. A cluster of ships was forming, a big one this time. Enough to do the Tomahawk serious harm if they had time to come together and move in.

  Enough to make an irresistible target.

  He thought of the last moments of the Stinger. Was this a trap like the one that had killed his fighter pilot? He realized it didn't matter. He had to stay aggressive, face every threat. He had to damage the Hive fleet while he had the chance.

  "Let's go get them."

  Kaur nodded, and the Tomahawk advanced.

  The aliens retreated. Individual ships were much slower than the corvette, but twenty ships together, sharing power, generated enough thrust to stay ahead of the Tomahawk.

  Hammett leaned forward in his chair, a fierce joy rising in him. We've got them! They're running scared, and making mistakes. "Pursue," he said. "Let's not save ammunition."

  Kaur nodded, and a yellow circle appeared in both tactical displays, showing where rail gun rounds would strike. Hammett heard a muted hum as the guns opened up.

  The bridge went dark, Hammett's ears popped, and the faceplate on his helmet snapped down. The ship shivered around him, the arms of his chair vibrating under his fingers. A red warning light inside his helmet changed to green, indicating pressure on the bridge was restored, and he retracted the faceplate.

  He smelled smoke, and an oily stink that told him one of the ship's hydraulic systems had been breached. The holo display around him flickered, disappeared, then came back. He closed it and brought up a damage display instead. A projection of the Tomahawk appeared, with damaged areas outlined in red. Half a dozen dots represented minor damage they'd taken in the course of the fight. A wide red swath near the nose showed where an alien cluster had cut deeply into the hull several minutes before.

  A fresh line of damage glowed on the starboard side just aft of the bridge. There was a scarlet trench burned into the side of the ship, running all the way from top to bottom. The main starboard engine was ruined, and the starboard rail gun was disabled. The port engine showed a flashing amber
"DISABLED" label.

  "Where the hell did that come from?" Hammett said.

  Touhami, his voice shaking, said, "It came from the surface, Sir." He worked his controls, and the projection of the Green Crater appeared. "It came from the middle of the city."

  "Let's get over the horizon," Hammett said. "Bring us about." He brought up a tactical display. The Hive ships were keeping their distance, he saw. Are they giving the gun a clear field of fire? Or just waiting for us to be destroyed with no further risk to their ships?

  A thruster fired in the nose of the Tomahawk and the ship began to swing, much slower than before. "We've got a lot of damage," said Benson. "We might not be as manoeuvrable as we were."

  Well, there's an understatement. Hammett waited impatiently as the ship swung ponderously around. He called the engine room. "Mr. Geibelhaus. What's the status of the port engine?"

  There was a long pause before the man's voice, hoarse with strain, sounded in Hammett's ears. "We've got casualties down here, Captain."

  Hammett winced, but he said, "Answer my question."

  Geibelhaus, sounding offended, said, "The starboard engine's completely ruined, Sir."

  Don't yell at him. He's having the worst day of his life right now. Be gentle. "What about the port engine?"

  "Let me see." There was a long moment of silence. Then Geibelhaus said, "It'll go, but I'll have to fire it up from here."

  Relief washed over Hammett. We still have a chance, then. "Stand by, Geibelhaus. I'll need thrust in a moment."

  "Aye, Captain."

  Hammett checked the navigation display. The ship was barely half-way through its rotation. It would be another fifteen seconds before they could retreat from the gun below. Why hasn't it fired again? What are they waiting for? Do they need time to reload? If that gun could fire faster we'd be dead.

  It might fire again at any second, he realized. A quick scan of the damage report showed him that the lateral thrusters were still functional. Useless for turning the ship, the twin thrusters, one on each side amidships, were used to shove the corvette sideways. "Give me a squirt on the starboard lateral thruster," he said.