Old Ironsides

by Dean Crawford

  *

  A roar of elation went up across Titan’s bridge as Helena saw the Aleeyan fleet’s icons on the tactical display suddenly vanish, zipping away to the edge of sensor detection. Outside, she saw the fleet’s engines briefly flare white and then the stars warped around them and they vanished into the emptiness of deep space.

  ‘The enemy fleet has fled!’ the tactical officer yelled. ‘They’re in retreat!’

  The crew began clapping and hugging each other, and she saw the Executive Officer, Olsen, clench his fist and press it against his chest as he looked at the admiral. Marshall nodded and returned the gesture in silence, even as the tactical officer looked back to his displays and frowned.

  ‘Their flagship is still here.’

  The bridge fell silent again as the crew looked at the lumbering battleship now turning toward them, her engines flaring as she accelerated.

  ‘What the hell is she doing?’

  Olsen’s voice broke the silence as he and the rest of the crew saw the huge Aleeyan ship accelerate directly toward them.

  ‘Evasive action, hard to port!’ Marshall snapped. ‘Bring our guns to bear!’

  The ship began to turn and Helena saw the images of the two vessels on the tactical display begin to close up on one another. Even she could tell what was about to happen.

  ‘They’re going to ram us!’

  The huge ship loomed upon them and Helena felt her heart leap into her chest as she realized that at such close range there was no way for Titan to get clear or flee the warship now bearing down upon them and trailing sparkling veils of debris and gas from her countless flaming wounds.

  ‘Five hundred meters!’ the Commander of the Air Group warned. ‘She’s coming right at us!’

  ‘Maximum power!’ Marshall yelled. ‘Get us out of here!’

  The helmsman was already advancing the throttles fully open and Helena could feel the huge ship accelerating as she rolled and pitched through the blackness of space in an attempt to avoid the immense missile now bearing down upon them.

  A vivid stream of plasma fire smashed into the Aleeyan warship as the other vessels in the fleet opened fire on her simultaneously in an attempt to destroy her before she could collide with Titan. Helena squinted as the huge ship vanished amid roiling flares of plasma energy, the tactical officer calling out across the bridge.

  ‘Her shields are holding! She’s diverted all power to her engines and shields.’ His voice became suddenly quiet. ‘She’s not even firing.’

  Marshall glared helplessly at the massive warship that was now enshrouded in a hail of plasma fire, explosions ripping across her shields as she filled the display screen.

  ‘Emergency super-luminal!’ Marshall roared. ‘Go, now!’

  The helmsman moved his hand to the mass-drive controls as Helena saw individual windows on the huge battleship before them, tiny details in her scratched and battered hull, and then suddenly she flared brilliant white and vanished. The terrible barrage of plasma fire that had been flaring off her shields suddenly passed through empty space and vanished into the distance as the explosions disappeared to be replaced by distant starlight and Neptune’s graceful arc. A shockwave of some kind shuddered against Titan and then all was silence.

  Helena stared for a moment into the display as Titan rocked gently from side to side as the gravitational waves from the Aleeyan vessel’s last minute jump into super-luminal washed over her.

  ‘She’s gone,’ the tactical officer said with a sigh of relief.

  ‘They bottled it,’ Olsen said with a grim smile. ‘They played chicken and ducked out.’

  ‘Then why bother at all?’ the CAG asked. ‘They could have just jumped with the rest of their fleet?’

  Marshall turned to the tactical officer. ‘Do we have a trace on where their fleet went?’

  ‘Beta quadrant, elevation five-niner-three,’ he replied instantly. ‘They’re heading home, maximum super-luminal velocity.’

  Marshall stared at the screen for a moment and then made his decision.

  ‘Track Havok,’ Marshall ordered. ‘I want to know where he’s gone.’

  ‘He ran away,’ Olsen insisted. ‘He doesn’t have enough stones to carry out his…’

  ‘He has enough rage,’ Marshall countered, and turned to the CAG. ‘Recall all fighters and set a course for Earth, maximum velocity.’

  ‘You think he’ll attack earth?’ Helena asked, finally letting go of the railing.

  ‘I think he wanted to hit us and then had a better idea,’ Marshall growled. ‘He may try for the orbital stations.’

  The tactical officer looked up from his display.

  ‘He’s hiding his trail using gravity fluctuations; it’ll take time to find him.’

  Marshall turned slowly to the officer. ‘He could be there in minutes!’

  ‘It’ll take at least ten to be certain of his track!’

  Helena knew that she could no longer remain silent and she pushed away from the railing. ‘Search for Doctor Schmidt’s projection signal,’ she said abruptly, driven by instinct rather than good sense.

  ‘Do what?’ the tactical officer asked. ‘Schmidt’s in lockdown. He doesn’t have a signal.’

  Admiral Marshall did not take his eyes off her as he replied to his officer. ‘Do as she says, search for his signal.’

  The tactical officer obeyed, and moments later he replied. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said in astonishment. ‘He’s headed toward earth.., at.., super luminal velocity.’

  Marshall’s glare bored into Helena’s eyes as he glared at her. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Ironside was trapped aboard and he needed a way out,’ she said. ‘He must have had Schmidt’s back-up with him, I don’t know why.’

  ‘Schmidt was the man, the thing, behind all of this!’ Marshall roared.

  ‘We don’t know that!’ Helena protested. ‘Nathan’s trying to avert a…’

  Marshall turned away from her, his booming voice overwhelming hers with ease. ‘Set course for Earth, maximum velocity! And put Doctor Sears in the brig!’

  ‘What?!’ Helena gasped.

  ‘Perverting the course of justice,’ Marshall shot back. ‘Aiding and abetting a fugitive, disobeying direct orders! Get her out of here!’

  Helena felt the strong hands of two Marine’s grab her arms and direct her off the bridge even as Titan surged into super luminal flight, and she hoped against hope that she had done enough.

  ***

  XLIII

  New Washington

  ‘Can you get a signal?’

  Detective Allen hit the connect switch again but all he got was a fuzzy screen of green static as Vasquez watched, his features strained and taut.

  ‘They’ve cut us off,’ Allen uttered in bewilderment. ‘I can’t connect to CSS Headquarters or the police on the surface.’

  Vasquez hit the desk with one clenched fist and turned away in frustration. Within an hour of the CSS fighters showing up outside the station and blockading the exits, the signals channel to Earth had shut down. All communication from the surface had been extinguished, and in addition they had experienced numerous blasts from around the station as riots and disorder became more inflamed as panic rose through the population. Two of those blasts had damaged both the station’s communications center and the atmospheric maintenance system, effectively shutting down the entire atmospheric recycling system.

  ‘This is a sustained attack,’ Vasquez snapped. ‘The military are shutting everything down and dooming everybody to death, and CSS is doing nothing about it.’

  ‘Military coup,’ Allen said out loud, ‘only thing that makes any sense.’

  The office had only a handful of officers still on strength, most of them having fled to protect their wives, children and families as the horrendous looting and rioting grew more inflamed with every passing moment. To his credit Captain Forrester had recognized that although having officers on the streets was the best way to deal with such a crisis, the
sheer volume of civil disobedience was now so great that even a thousand officers deployed could could not hope to quell the rioting. He had dismissed the remaining staff and wished them good luck.

  ‘The city’s out of control,’ Allen said to the remaining officers. ‘You can’t do anything more here.’

  ‘Can’t do anything out there either,’ one of them pointed out. ‘We’d never get home in time.’

  Vasqeuz stepped forward. ‘You’ve got a family, bro’,’ he said to Allen. ‘Should be you heading home.’

  ‘Like I said, they’ll hold up okay,’ Allen replied, ‘and I can’t do much about the air running out if I’m sitting with them in our apartment.’

  Vasquez gripped Allen’s shoulder in a brief gesture of solidarity, but then he looked at the displays showing the spreading violence. ‘Can’t do much about it anywhere. How long do we got?’

  Allen stood up from his screen. ‘I called the municipal department before they all cleared out, and they reckoned no more than about four hours before the air pressure falls enough to kill us all anyway. We’ll be dead long before the supply actually runs out because our lungs don’t have the strength to draw in low pressure air and…’

  ‘I get the picture, Einstein,’ Vasquez cut him off, and then sighed. ‘Looks like this is it then, bro’.’

  ‘Yup, barring a miracle.’

  ‘Yeah, we could do with one of those right about now.’

  Something bright flared outside the office windows and one of the other officers took a step back as he looked outside.

  ‘Guys, I think you might want to take a look at this.’

  Allen and Vasquez hurried across to the window, which overlooked the city around them and also provided a panoramic view of the station above them and the vast globe of the earth. There, a huge warship loomed where moments before there had been nothing but empty space.

  ‘Oh crap,’ Vasquez uttered.

  ‘Aleeyan battleship,’ Allen said, identifying the vessel easily. ‘Something bad must have gone down at Neptune if they’re here.’

  As one, the officers looked from the warship down to the streets below. The busy crowds had stopped moving upon the Aleeyan vessel’s arrival as though the immense city had been suddenly frozen in time. Countless thousands of heads were upturned toward the huge warship. Allen could almost feel the thousands of minds all thinking the same thing at the same time, and with a chill premonition of doom he realized the inevitable conclusion that they would all reach at the same time.

  Get away, at any cost.

  In an instant, thousands of panicked civilians began tearing this way and that and the sound of distant screams echoed up through the buildings around the precinct.

  ‘That wasn’t the kind of miracle I was hopin’ for,’ Vasquez uttered.

  Allen reached under his jacket and felt the reassuring butt of his pistol nestling there.

  ‘Gentlemen, I think it’s time that we all put ourselves and our families before the office and get home. Being here is useless now.’

  ‘I concur,’ Captain Forrester said from behind them and they turned to face him. ‘You’re all excused from duty.’

  Vasquez turned as Allen stood away from the window and offered his friend his hand.

  ‘Been good, bro’,’ he said to Vasquez.

  The former soldier shrugged as he shook his partner’s hand. ‘Seen worse.’

  Allen smiled, turned, and headed for the precinct exit as the other officers hurriedly gathered their belongings and fled for their homes before the Aleeyans managed to breach the city.

  Vasquez turned to the captain. ‘You’d best go too. I ain’t got no family waitin’ for me. Guess I’ll stick around.’

  Forrester nodded. ‘You can join us, if you wish.’

  Vasquez shook the captain’s hand. ‘Maybe later, boss. Get outta here while you still can.’

  *

  ‘It’s this way,’ Doctor Schmidt said.

  Nathan hurried along a corridor deep inside the Aleeyan ship and ducked under what looked like creepers growing along a bulkhead as he fought his way through the heat and the mist. In his hand he held the portable projection unit, Schmidt’s head glowing a diaphanous blue as though he were some kind of bizarre transparent light bulb.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Nathan asked.

  ‘Pretty sure, just keep moving.’

  The ship had emerged from super luminal cruise and Nathan somehow knew that they were in earth orbit. The battle had likely ended in an Aleeyan defeat, and he could only imagine the rage with which Havok would attack Earth. Schmidt’s plan to hijack the Ayleean ship’s computer and jump them into earth orbit was a huge gamble: it had saved Titan from certain destruction, given them a rapid trip home and the chance to blow Marshall’s plans wide open, but they could not know if the CSS fleet would catch up with them in time to intercept Havok and his warship.

  ‘Here,’ Schmidt said, ‘these double doors.’

  Nathan could hear the sound of engines whining from beyond the doors and he slowed, hugging the wall of the corridor as he saw a sign stencilled above the door that was just visible through the vines and creepers twisting their way along the ceiling.

  FLITE DEK

  ‘Is that really how they spell?’ Nathan asked.

  ‘The alphabet has changed considerably for them, having spent centuries on a new planet far from earth,’ Schmidt explained. ‘They use a form of pidgin English, a simplified and more pragmatic means of spelling.’

  Nathan eased up against the door and tried to figure out if there were any Aleeyans waiting on the other side.

  ‘The ship’s out of super luminal,’ Schmidt said. ‘If we’re going, we’re going now.’

  Nathan heard the sound of approaching boots and he hurried away from the flight deck doors and wedged himself in behind a thick vine that had wound itself up the side of a bulkhead.

  Four Aleeyans leaped toward them through the interior of the ship like apes swinging through a forest, jumping and scrambling across the vines. All four of them dropped down around the flight deck doors, which hissed open a moment later. Nathan peered around the edge of the vine and saw the immense bay beyond, Aleeyan fighters parked in ranks along the walls and dozens of Aleeyans swarming over them.

  ‘We’ll never get in there,’ Nathan whispered. ‘They’ll see us the moment we walk in!’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ Schmidt said. ‘How much power does my unit have?’

  Nathan looked down at the base of the unit and saw a small illuminated bar of light.

  ‘About seventy per cent,’ he replied. ‘Why?’

  Schmidt looked up at Nathan.

  ‘To project a hard light hologram will take up the bulk of what power I have remaining and it will only last for perhaps a minute or so. Do you think that you can make it across to one of those vessels and get aboard in that time?’

  Nathan baulked in horror. ‘You want me to get into an Aleeyan ship and fly it?!’

  ‘Your record said that you had obtained a pilot’s license.’

  ‘Four hundred years ago, and in a damned Cessna 172! It doesn’t mean I can go fly the space shuttle!’

  ‘It’ll have to do,’ Schmidt said. ‘Once we’re aboard you can plug me directly into the ship’s computer and I’ll be able to help you. However, if too much of the projections unit’s power is drained there won’t be sufficient for me to reboot. You’ll be on your own.’

  Nathan frowned down at him. ‘You mean you’ll be dead?’

  To Nathan’s surprise, he detected a melancholy in the doctor’s tone.

  ‘Nothing ever really dies, Nathan. Your survival now takes priority over my own. Get to the surface, find out what’s really behind all of this: who really caused this war. If I do not survive then at least my sacrifice will prevent the suffering and deaths of millions of people who have not yet had a chance to live at all.’ Schmidt smiled. ‘I have had more than my fair share.’

  ‘So, now I really do hold your life
in my hand,’ Nathan pointed out.

  Schmidt inclined his ghostly head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, you do. However I quite like being alive, in as much as being a transparent illusion of refracted light can be called “alive”, so kindly get on with it and do me the honor of not screwing up.’

  Nathan pushed off the wall of the corridor and threw Schmidt a mock salute. ‘Yes sir.’

  He walked to the hangar doors, which had closed once more, and sucked in a deep breath.

  ‘Ready?’ Schmidt asked.

  Nathan nodded. ‘Ready.’

  ‘Projecting, now.’

  Nathan saw the world around him become somewhat shadowed, as though he were viewing it through sunglasses, and all around him he saw the shadowy interior of an Ayleean warrior projected to shield him from view.

  ‘Go, now!’ Schmidt ordered, ‘before my power runs out!’

  Nathan stepped up to the doors and they hissed open and then he walked into the hangar and aimed for the nearest of the parked fighters. Aleeyans hurried this way and that all around him, scrambling over damaged fighters that were hissing vapor or had showers of sparks tumbling in glowing orange from shattered engine casings scored with burns from plasma hits. Everywhere smelled of fuels, lubricants and burning electronic circuitry.

  ‘Keep moving,’ Schmidt said. ‘Don’t stop or look at anybody.’

  Nathan walked swiftly and saw that one of the Hawk fighters ahead of him was sitting with its canopy open. Although he knew precisely nothing about such modern craft, he could see that it had no hoses or cables protruding from its hull and that it appeared in decent enough condition with no shattered panels or fires visible to him.

  ‘Yes, that one,’ Schmidt confirmed. ‘You’ll need to… into the… before…just in case…’

  Nathan looked down at the projection unit in his hand and saw Schmidt’s image flicker out as the power bar dropped another notch to perhaps ten per cent.

  ‘Damn it,’ Nathan cursed and kept walking.

  The Aleeyan fighter was an ugly beast, built from blocky panels that gave it something of a Soviet appearance. Unlike the graceful Phantom fighters of the CSS, the Aleeyan’s hook-nosed Hawks had a long hull flanked by two wings that were bent downward in the centre and reminded him of a dirty grey seagull’s wings when coming in to land. Tripod undercarriage gave the craft a weighty appearance, as though it was exhausted before it had even tried to take off.