by Isaac Hooke
That was his copilot, Lieutenant Frank Turow. Frank had come a long way since his early days, when he had first joined Wolf as copilot. Frank had a thousand simulated missions under his belt at the time, but only two actual training flights. Under Wolf’s tutelage, Frank had turned into a seasoned copilot, with over fifty combat flights under his belt. Serving aboard the Callaway had certainly fast-tracked his experience level—the starship had seen more battles in the past two and a half years than most vessels did in two and a half lifetimes.
When the Elder ship fled, all of the super-suits had broken away with it. The three that Wolf was tracking had been slower to turn back than the others. Wolf had spotted them early on and accelerated to head them off.
The super-suits were about one and a half times faster than the Avengers. It was only because of the advantageous position afforded by the Callaway’s higher orbit when launching the fighters that the squadron even had a chance to intercept.
He glanced at the rad level indicator: almost back to normal. When the squadron had first emerged, the fighters were exposed to a good amount of gamma rays from the planet killers that had detonated. They had all loaded up on anti-rad subdermals before the mission, of course, as these models of Avengers only had the armor to protect against standard cosmic background radiation and little else. The radiation had quickly waned, thankfully.
“Ten thousand kilometers, and closing,” Frank said.
“Begin decelerating,” Wolf said. The goal was to match the speed and direction of their targets at least somewhat, so that when he fired the grappling hook it wouldn’t inflict kinetic damage.
Though currently accelerating in the same direction as the targets, momentum carried the Squadron toward the three super-suits from the side, so that the intercept would occur at a perpendicular angle. Wolf’s target was the middle super-suit. The other seven fighters would test out their modified Cobras on the remaining two suits.
“Five thousand,” Frank said.
A moment later: “Two thousand. Targets are deviating from course. New heading, one o’clock.”
Wolf glanced at the overhead display. The three super-suits were swerving directly toward the Squadron.
“One thousand,” Frank said.
“Fire,” Wolf ordered.
He targeted the centermost super-suit and squeezed his right fist, which first engaged the EM emitter, and then fired the grappling hook.
“Target grappled,” the cloyingly sweet female voice of the AI, Betty, announced.
“My team got a direct hit on the lead target,” Yates said over the comm. “But we lost Orange Five.” That was one of the unmanned Avengers.
The three super-suits continued past at their same momentum.
“Pursue!” Wolf swung his nose in the direction of travel and accelerated to maximum speed. The carbon fiber cord quickly grew taut as the grappled target reached the line’s limit.
Wolf’s speed momentarily increased as momentum passed to his fighter, then decreased again. He knew his velocity would continue to bounce around a bit while energy was exchanged like that, and he began decelerating while reeling in the target at the same time. He fired his psi stun device again for good measure.
“The other two targets are continuing away from us,” Frank said. “Yates, did you get them both?”
“Negative,” Yates replied. “We concentrated fire on the lead target. The rear should be still intact... there it goes: rear target is turning around.”
“Guess he doesn’t like us grappling his friend,” Frank commented.
“Take him out,” Wolf said.
“Roger that,” Yates said. A moment later: “He dodged at the last second, but I think we got him. Wait, he’s coming in again. He’s headed straight for you, Wolf!”
“He’s not firing,” Frank commented. “They must have damaged his weapon.”
Wolf saw the red dot was indeed heading directly toward his Avenger. Meanwhile, he had reeled in his original target to within two meters by then, and could see the yellow-white suit floating in front of him.
“Betty, keep stunning the original target,” Wolf said.
“Roger that,” the AI replied.
Since Wolf couldn’t direct the psi-stun device toward the incoming super-suit—the emitter was fixed to the nose of the Avenger—he might as well have Betty continue stunning the grappled target while it was within the line of sight of the focused beam. They weren’t sure how long each stun would last, after all.
He swiveled the mag-rails toward the incoming super-suit instead, but he was too late: the external speakers on his bodysuit transmitted a thud as something struck the Avenger’s hull. He glanced up and saw the intruding super-suit seemingly hanging on to thin air above and to the right of him.
“Warning, hull breached,” Betty said. “Compartment is decompressing.”
The pressurized environment of his bodysuit would protect him from the decompression, but not from much else.
Wolf directed the swivel-mounted mag-rails toward the target. Because of the super-suit’s location on the hull, it was just beyond the line of sight of the mag-rails.
The super-suit lifted its right arm backward and then hurtled it down into the invisible hull.
“Breach is enlarging,” Betty said.
Wolf quickly disengaged the inner actuators and the external view winked out. He floated within the center of a spherical lattice inside the cockpit. Crammed in beside him was another sphere, though this one appeared solid; Frank released his actuators a millisecond later, and the surface of his sphere receded as well, leaving behind a similar steel frame.
Wolf glanced at the overhead; the white arm of a super-suit was reaching inside the cockpit from a breach in the hull.
“We got an intruder,” Wolf said.
He retrieved the blaster from his utility belt and fired at the arm. No effect. Unlike the Cobras, they hadn’t modified their personal defense weapons to use the penetrative frequency tech, as it would have made the weapons too bulky to fit comfortably within the spherical cocoon of the cockpit.
“Can you get a bead on him, Yates?” Wolf asked over the comm.
“He’s dragging your Avenger all over the place,” Yates said. “We can’t get a solid bead. We fire, and we miss, it’s your head.”
“Grappled target is no longer within line of sight of stun beam,” Betty said. “Target may return to full operability at any time.”
“Then reel it in closer to the hull, dipshit!” Wolf said.
“Roger that,” Betty replied.
He really hated having to babysit AIs, especially during a critical moment.
Wolf glanced at the enemy’s arm one last time. It was repeatedly squeezing its white glove into a fist, as if trying to fire some sort of weapon that wasn’t working.
And as if expecting that weapon to begin functioning again any second now...
Wolf quickly reactivated his actuators. The inner cocoon of the sphere enveloped him and his view filled with the starscape outside once more.
Wolf rotated the nose of the Avenger to face opposite the direction of travel and then slammed down on the thruster.
“What are you doing?” the disembodied voice of Frank asked.
“What I should have done from the start,” Wolf replied.
He glanced up. The super-suit had shifted in position, and seemed to be struggling to hang onto the hull.
Once more Wolf pointed the mag-rails toward the super-suit. The opponent’s left leg was well within the line of sight this time.
He fired at that leg. He didn’t expect the slugs to penetrate, but that wasn’t his intention; he accelerated in the opposite direction of the impact at the same time.
The combined momentum imparted from the slug and the sudden reversal in acceleration ripped the super-suit clean off the hull.
“We have a bead!” Yates said.
“Fire,” Wolf replied.
“Got it!” Yates said. “Target is drifting away
, and not coming back. I wonder if we should collect it for study?”
“One is enough,” Wolf said. He focused his attention on the original target, which floated in front of the Avenger’s nose, precisely where the grapple had reeled it in.
“You still stunning it, Betty?” Wolf asked.
“Affirmative,” the AI replied. “Once every thirty seconds.”
“That might be overdoing it,” Wolf said. “But then again, we know nothing about their tolerance levels, do we?”
“No we do not,” Betty said.
“All right, bag it!” Wolf said over the comm.
“Chrysalis,” Frank said. “You’re good to go.”
The trailing Dragonfly Chrysalis maneuvered into place. Jonathan extended the grappling hook, allowing the stunned super-suit to float toward the shuttle. The rear ramp was open.
A combat robot jetted outside and wrapped its arms around the target.
Wolf released the grappling hooks entirely and the robot thrust back inside. The ramp sealed behind it.
“Target is in the bag,” Wolf said. “I repeat, target is in the bag.”
twenty-two
Rade ascended the rock formation with moderate effort. The incline varied between thirty and fifty degrees, not so steep as to be unscalable, but not so gentle as to be easy. During the steeper regions, it helped that there were many flat areas offering good hand- and foot-holds. It was as though it had been designed to support human climbing, which made sense, given the humanoids who were suspected of inhabiting the ship with the Elder.
Vance paused beside different cave mouths, holding his spherical device in front of the darkness as if measuring something. He moved far too casually for Rade’s taste, and after lowering the device often lingered in front of the caves as if he had all the time in the world. Meanwhile Rade was keenly aware of the time ticking down on the warhead with every precious second that passed.
Finally Vance looked back after stopping in front of one particular cave. “This way. Centurions A and B, go first please. Headlamps on.”
The designated Centurions led the way, their headlamps cutting a swath through the darkness of the cave.
They reached a diaphanous membrane of sorts that sheathed the tunnel from floor to ceiling. Beyond, the air was colored yellow. Vance glanced at the party members, then stepped through. None of the yellow gas leaked out.
Rade realized he was looking at an airlock of some kind.
From the other side, Vance beckoned at the party members, indicating for them to follow. The group passed through and resumed the advance. The air continued to be tinted yellow.
They reached a central chamber shortly. Three more tunnels branched off in different directions. In the middle of the floor was a pedestal set upon a dais. Atop the pedestal rested a small pyramid carved from stone. Pulsing with energy, blue lines of power ran up and down the sides, etching intricate patterns into the surface.
“Retrieve the artifact, Mr. Galaal,” Vance said.
Rade hesitated. Why me and not a combat robot?
But he proceeded forward anyway, as ordered. He stepped gingerly, wary of traps. Above, the arched ceiling was crisscrossed by thick rafters of stone that were offset about a meter underneath; those rafters could have served as walkways, offering hiding places for ambushers.
“Permission to dispatch a Centurion to clear the upper rafters,” Rade sent.
“Permission denied,” Vance said.
Gritting his teeth, Rade approached the pedestal. He alternately scanned the stone below and the walkways above.
He stepped onto the dais and the artifact lay immediately before him. The object almost seemed to hum with that pulsating energy.
Rade released his rifle and let it hang from the strap on his shoulder assembly. Warily glancing above him one last time, he reached out and wrapped his gloved fingers around the artifact. He expected a trap to go off at any time as he lifted the pyramid, but nothing happened.
He drew the artifact toward him. It felt surprisingly light.
A dark form dropped down from the arched ceiling. Before it hit the ground beside him, the form lit up, becoming blindingly bright.
Rade squinted, taking a step backward while the photochromatic filters in his faceplate dimmed the light to something more manageable. He found himself looking up at a towering being of light. He discerned vaguely reptilian features in the brightness of its body that reminded him of a Raakarr: bifurcated mandibles, spiky appendages, segmented abdomen lined with horned plates.
Rade knew every weapon in the room would be pointed at that entity.
He waved his free hand behind him. “Hold your fire!”
He wasn’t sure why he said it. For some reason, he had the impression the tall bright being meant him no harm. The jumpsuit he wore was supposed to be psi-shielded, but that shielding was meant to protect against human or humanoid telepaths. From previous encounters, he already knew the Elder could circumvent it. Rade recalled the mission on the greenhouse planet in the Elder galaxy, where Commander Cray had reported psychic visions after encountering the Elder offspring, this despite his psi-shielded suit.
Is it trying to communicate with me?
As he continued to regard the alien, Rade felt a strange sense of peace.
The being extended a bright-white appendage toward him.
Rade offered a gloved hand in return. Closer his hand neared. Closer...
But before he could touch the appendage, something happened.
“It’s a trick!” Vance shouted.
From the being’s torso the red tip of a self-contained plasma channel emerged, and Rade realized Vance had stabbed it from behind with his energy spear.
The entity unleashed an ear-piercing howl, forcing Rade to turn down his speaker volume as he recoiled.
The being of light spun about, grabbed Vance by the torso, and split him in half at the waist, spacesuit and all. The being tossed the bloody parts to either side of the chamber, and then collapsed. It remained motionless, and from its wound poured a glowing substance, like liquid gold.
Looking at it, Rade was overcome with an extreme sense of loss.
“Get the pyramid out of here!” Vance said.
The voice startled Rade. He glanced at the severed body part that had voiced the command. Vance’s torso had struggled up on one elbow, but collapsed as Rade watched.
He glanced at his HUD. The operative’s vitals had flat-lined.
Rade wondered how the operative could have functioned as long as he did after receiving such a devastating blow. The sheer blood loss alone should have incapacitated him instantly.
Rade stuffed the pyramid into his jumpsuit harness and hurried to Vance’s torso; he nearly slipped on the pool of blood that had formed underneath it. He examined the exposed area under the spacesuit where the operative had been split in half. Underneath all that blood, there were definitely robotic components. An Artificial.
From Vance’s clenched fist Rade freed the spherical device. Hoping it would continue to keep the enemy at bay, he secured it to his harness.
Rade wasn’t in the habit of leaving anybody behind, no matter their position in his team, not when he had an opportunity to save them. There was a small chance the Artificial could be revived, after all.
He was about to give the order for one of the robots to haul the body when the nearby being of light came to life. It stabbed one of its spiked appendages right into Vance’s brain case and dragged the operative underneath its own bleeding torso.
No chance Vance can be revived, now.
“Let’s go!” Rade said, retreating.
The group hurried down the tunnel. Fearing pursuit, Rade often glanced at the rear-view camera feed projected at the top of his vision.
They reached the diaphanous membrane and passed through into the uncolored air beyond. As the party neared the cave mouth, they deactivated their headlamps.
Helium crouched at the entrance beside one of the Centurions.
“Got tangos down there,” Helium said.
Rade switched to his point of view and saw several Neanderthals dressed in strange clothes crowded around the nuke at the bottom of the gorge made by the formations. There were also some wearing super-suits among them. They all seemed fascinated by the warhead. Or perhaps concerned was the better word.
“I see them,” Rade said. “We retreat parallel, along the ridge line. Go.”
He switched back to his own viewpoint and glanced at the timer. Ten minutes until detonation.
Shit.
He followed one of the Centurions outside onto the rock and edged along the surface. The eight party members formed a long line that was spread across the formation, and carefully moved away from the gathering below.
As he made his way forward, Rade thought of the being of light. Was that an Elder? He wondered vaguely how many of them were actually aboard the city-ship. His party had seen only one so far, while the remaining inhabitants had proved Neanderthal, at least so far. Were the Elder dying out? They probably lived a very long time, which gave them reason to reproduce only rarely. He could imagine their population had dwindled in the five hundred thousand years since leaving the Milky Way.
He cleared his mind, concentrating on the task at hand. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander, not when he had troops, both man and AI, looking to him to lead them off of that ship alive.
The party advanced about fifty meters before they were forced to descend, as the rock sloped down sharply. Rade picked his way down following Helium and the Centurion on point.
Motion in his rear-view feed drew his gaze back toward the gathering at the bottom of the gorge behind them.
One of the Neanderthals was pointing at the party, and yelling.
“Go go go!” Rade said. “Units D, E, F, you’re T2. Cover our retreat!”
The respective Centurions dug in while the remainder of the group hurried down the incline.
“T1, assume overwatch at the bottom!” Rade said.
Helium and the lead robot reached the street and ducked behind the rock for cover. Rade joined them, and aimed his rifle past the edge.
