When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars)

by Korenman, Adam

  Captain Grahams appeared from inside the bay dressed in his fire-resistant coveralls and carrying his helmet. He climbed onto his tank, stowing his gear in the sponson box before crawling inside. Within minutes, the massive machine rumbled to life. Twin Helios engines thundered behind the crew compartment, spitting up small jets of blue flame from the exhaust panels on the back plate. The loader for each vehicle marched in front, guiding the ninety-ton tracks out of the bay. Even though the Shiva utilized an autoloader system, a human still had to be inside to service any issues and, of course, walk the tank out the gate. Metal groaned as the emergency brakes released and the war-machine lumbered forward.

  Inside his truck, Zev activated the small tablet on the dashboard. A topographical map appeared with every friendly force displayed in blue. The unknown object was marked with a red X. Already a perimeter of blue dots had formed around the landing zone. Messages popped up at the bottom of the screen; reports from the advance party. The carriers still hadn’t landed yet, but were firing incredibly powerful rockets to slow their descent and allow a safe touchdown.

  The convoy moved out without fanfare. Heavy armor took the dirt path to the north while the trucks and support vehicles stuck to the hardball road. As the lead element, Zev could see the fight brewing up ahead. The strange dot he’d seen before had grown into a gigantic battlement. Hovering hundreds of feet in the air, the carrier was a floating mountain. Rockets roared, easing the behemoth toward the clearing while burning black scorch marks in the green field. It had no escort fighters, but Fleet wasn’t taking advantage of the easy target.

  He’d seen the carriers in videos and on reports, but looking at one from the ground was awe inspiring. The sheer size of the ship dominated the horizon. Its body had changed shape during the descent, though the hive structure remained intact. Eight spires had risen around the craft, and it appeared that the vessel had become wider. It no longer qualified as a naval ship. It was a fortress.

  * * * * *

  The silver saucer tore across the sky, engines firing so hot they dragged a glowing trail in the ship’s wake. Every few moments a lance of green energy struck out for the dreadnought and peeled away at its armor. In return, the Boxti vessel fired a wall of flak into the air. A crescent-shaped Nangol strike vessel flew into the deadly cloud of shrapnel and erupted into fragments. Fighters finally joined the fray, spreading out from their host ships and charging at the enemy. Boxti Hornets screamed across space launching salvos of missiles at the Terran fleet.

  Phoenix and Sparrow squadrons joined the battle from Midway. The sky above New Eden became a dazzling display of color as each side loosed thousands of missiles and fiery projectiles. Frigates exploded in beautiful blossoms of orange and yellow and red. A Terran destroyer, the Luxembourg, took a handful of gut buster rockets to the magazine and blasted in half. As more and more ships fell, their shattered hulls drifted down into the atmosphere in slow death spirals. A shower of metal and fire fell over the landscape as naval personnel desperately raced for the escape pods.

  Aboard Midway, Hiro gripped his chair for support as another volley from the dreadnought rocked the entire carrier. The Boxti’s main gun passed right through the supercarrier’s kinetic shield without slowing. Huge sections of the ship were locked down to prevent violent decompression after the charged slugs had torn straight through the hull. The honeycombed design of the interior was all that had saved the ship from being destroyed outright.

  “Damage report,”Hiro called out. Another hit nearly threw him from his seat.

  Alarms sounded throughout the ship. The air filters worked overtime to scrub the smoke that billowed in from shattered sections of hull. Crew members choked back tears as they continued to man their posts and fight the carrier. In each room, at least one officer worked setting triage for wounded or dying soldiers. Bodies piled in corners and nooks, covered by blankets or canvas or coats.

  Chief Warner, the engineering NCO, held onto two poles near his station to remain on his feet. Sweat poured down his face as he read the report from the master control system. A chunk of metal the size of a small building had caved in the port-side hangar, and oxygen was venting rapidly from those sections.“Hull integrity is sixty percent but holding. They’re doing a lot of surface damage, but the structure can take it.”A resounding boom deafened the room for a few seconds. The carrier groaned as compartments buckled and gave way across the ship.“Primary power is failing. Secondary generators are gone. Tertiary is warming up, but there was a delay in the command. If we lose our power supply, there’s going to be a gap before we’re back online.”

  Commodore Osaka felt his blood chill.“How long of a gap?”

  Warner looked up.“About five minutes, sir.”

  That quieted the room. Five minutes without the ability to fight back would be bad. It gave the enemy a dramatic advantage. Midwaywould be helpless, at the mercy of the dreadnought. But that wouldn’t matter if life support died as well. Hiro doubted his men could hold their breaths for five minutes. The crew redoubled their efforts, coaxing every ounce of power from the immense ship. Midwaywas the symbol of the Fleet. It just wouldn’t do to let it fall in such an unworthy way.

  “Commodore,”Nari shouted.“Valley Forgeis on line. They’ve cleared away three destroyers and are moving to support. Barrenonjust took a major hit.”A blast panel had scorched her face an hour before, leaving a superficial burn across her right jaw. She hadn't complained once.

  Despite the fear gnawing at his gut, Hiro smiled. This was a moment he’d prepared for his entire career. Miles below, billions of his fellow citizens depended on his strength for their very survival. Around him, his brothers and sisters in uniform proved their worth. A calm descended over him, and his breathing slowed. This would not be his final stand. Not here, over a colony. Friends had been lost, but the fight was far from over. The Boxti would pay for their arrogance today.

  “Valley Forge,”Hiro said into the comm.“Let’s drive these bastards out. Bring the thunder.”

  * * * * *

  Another volley slammed into the side of the dreadnought, piercing the kinetic barrier and shearing a chunk of hull clear off. Eruk gripped a bar overhead to keep his balance, riding the rolling floor like a wave. He roared, feeling more and more the warrior. This was what he was supposed to do. Cthanul weren’t meant to watch a battle from the rear; they needed to be in the front lines, blood spraying on their faces.

  A message came in from the carrier, a short burst transmission. Eruk listened intently to the chittering sounds of the Custodians, the insect-like creatures that ran the hives. He nodded grimly, not envying the task ahead. This was all a part of the Enclave’s plan, the doctrine of an invasion. It was the one aspect Eruk didn’t enjoy.

  “Give the order,”the warlord said.“Send them our welcoming party.”

  - XV -

  Zev had been mistaken. The Hive wasn’t large. It was gargantuan. It defied logic in its magnitude. Towering two thousand feet over the terrain, the Boxti carrier billowed steam as the engines quieted down. From the ground, the Terrans could see small creatures climbing at the top of the central spire. Strange sounds emanated from within the ship: gurgling liquid and the sound of grinding metal. Even after touchdown the transformation had continued. Walls expanded and rotated to create instant palisades. Gates formed and locked down. Castle Boxti, the unofficial name for the new site, grew before their eyes.

  “Sergeant,”a voice whispered. Zev looked over and saw Lieutenant Gabriel crawling over. The trucks were back a ways, patrolling the company’s small section of the perimeter while the rest of the scouts closed in for a better look. Zev had chosen a spot behind a bland patch of tall grass and shrubs; No major terrain features or plant life to call attention to him. With his digitized camouflage uniform and the thick vegetation, he was effectively invisible. The burning sun kept the ground hot enough to mask his thermal signature as well, though he had no way of knowing just how sophisticated a counter surveillance
team the enemy had.

  “Sir, they’re doing something at the top.”He pointed a gloved finger skyward. A large purple funnel had emerged from a growing spire.“Any word from the other side?”

  Gabriel shook his head.“Nothing yet. They didn’t land hard. Maybe they can’t breathe our air."

  "I don't think we're that lucky, sir." Zev gestured to the creatures working the walls. "Those things aren't wearing any tanks or respirators."

  The radio squawked.“Shadow one-one, this is Caveman six, over.”

  Gabriel brought his hand to his hear and pressed the transmit button on his headset.“This is Shadow one-one. Send it.”

  Captain Grahams spoke on the other end of the line.“Shadow one-one, we’ve been ordered to send a welcome letter. What’s your position, over?”

  Zev looked up, eyes wide.“We’re danger close, sir. If they call in anything bigger than a mortar, it’s gonna hit us just as hard.”He watched as the lieutenant pulled out his map—a standard paper layout—and plotted the platoon’s position. The NCO couldn’t help but double-check the numbers to make sure they were right. His platoon leader was good.

  “Caveman six, we’re based along phase line Ginger. If they fire top-down center mass, we’re in the kill zone. Recommend Shadow falls back to phase line Sage. How copy, over?”

  There wasn’t time to respond. A sudden flurry of activity drew all attention to the mammoth hive. With a sound like a volcano erupting, the central spire exploded outward. But instead of raining fire, a red and black cloud shot into the sky. The billowing pillar spread in every direction, slowly blotting out the sky. It spread out like a thunderhead, darkening the landscape and engulfing nearby camps. Tiny particles rained down across the plains, coloring the landscape a hellish crimson. Soldiers couldn’t help but stare at the ominous but beautiful display. As the cloud rose, the wind pulled and pushed it around until it stretched across the entire continent.

  Zev could do nothing but gawk, his mind racing. He watched as a tiny speck drifted down and landed on the grass in front of his eyes. As soon as it touched down, the color on the blade darkened and the plant began to die. He was on his radio before the grass wilted.

  “All stations this net, all stations this net. Gas gas gas. I say again. Gas gas gas.”

  Around each hive, soldiers scrambled to don their protective masks and gear. The spores, spreading like a swarm of locusts, began to attack the humans. A few unlucky scouts failed to hear the warning and breathed in the deadly particles. The tiny organisms began to consume them from the inside out, shredding their lungs and puncturing their organs. The men died screaming, pink froth spraying out from their mouths.

  With the armies distracted, few noticed the towering doors of the hive creaking open, the eyes of the enemy staring out from within.

  * * * * *

  Timothy Madison left his apartment a few minutes after three to pick up his daughter from school. Normally she was fine to walk home, but ever since the tragedy at Tallus he'd been feeling somewhat protective. His wife, Zoe, had always said there was nothing to worry about with the base so close to town, but Timothy couldn't shake the feeling of unease. He wasn't used to this amount of stress. Living in one of the safest areas of New Eden had softened him.

  As he walked down the street toward Roslin Elementary, Timothy noticed fewer people on the road than the day before. Everyone stayed inside, waiting for the governor or one of the generals to say it was safe to come out again. The news had reported the reappearance of the Boxti only an hour before, but the reaction had been swift. Stores were boarded over with signs that read "closed due to invasion." Soldiers from the nearby Kronos base had begun pulling people out of the major cities. Timothy hoped it was all fuss over nothing, but some part of him knew the winds of change were blowing. He was a software designer. He'd only ever known a life of peace and quiet. When the new species arrived over Luna, he'd been able to keep a level head by remembering how far away Earth was from his home planet. But now the monsters were on his front step and he had no way to cope with that.

  His daughter, on the other hand, was doing just fine. Kids were resilient, able to deal with concepts like intergalactic war in a way adults wouldn't fathom. While Timothy and his neighbors argued over what to do, Mary was content to color in her books or watch cartoons. The looming threat of intergalactic war meant little in the scheme of her world.

  Timothy arrived at the school just as kids began to pour out. Parents lined up on the sidewalk, grabbing their children and throwing them into waiting cars, or just dragging them quickly back home. No one wanted to linger long outdoors. Mary arrived with the second wave, pigtails bouncing as she skipped down the stairs. Tim scooped her up into a big hug, kissing her cheeks.

  "How was your day, sweetie?"

  Mary squirmed until her father set her down. "Lena Carter says they're going to close down the school because of the aliens." She started walking back toward the apartment, pulling Timothy by the hand. "Mrs. Potter says that's silly, but Lena's dad is with the army and she says he told her they were shutting down lots of places."

  She continued her story, but Tim was no longer paying attention. The sky had darkened suddenly, and when he looked up the clouds were thick and black, with angry red veins flowing within. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Mary was still talking when he heard the first scream.

  Down the street a woman howled in pain and clawed desperately at her skin. Her nails had torn strips of flesh from her arm and blood sprayed the ground as she writhed in agony. As Tim stared, confusion overpowering his fear, two more bystanders fell to the sidewalk. Something was raining down from the clouds, affected anyone it touched. As the downpour drew closer, more and more people cried out and threw themselves around trying to escape the invisible attackers. There was no time to run to the apartment.

  Burt pulled his daughter's backpack from her shoulders and dumped it onto the sidewalk. Mary protested, trying to gather her belongings into a pile as her father sorted through the mess. He grabbed her lunchbox, popped it open and pulled out her thermos. It was metal, designed to keep her soup hot throughout the day, and had a solid heft. Holding the cylinder in his right hand, Tim ran to the closest store and smashed the window again and again. Glass cracked and splintered, sending slivers flying through the air.

  The storm closed in around them, and now the screams of children joined the adults. Some cried out of fear, others from unimaginable pain. Tim punched he window harder, his hands cut to ribbons from the sharp edges. Finally, with a tremendous blow, the glass shattered and fell away. Tim grabbed his daughter, ignoring the searing lacerations on his arms, and carried her into the dark store.

  Outside, the deadly rain consumed the small town. Bodies filled the streets and the cries of the dying echoed from building to building. As father and daughter watched from the broken window, a silence fell. The voices stopped pleading for help, replaced by the sound of wind blowing the disease down toward the next city. Tim chanced a peek down the road and immediately regretted it. His friends and neighbors lay dead in the street, bloodied and broken. Worse still were the smaller forms, little hands curled into fists, backpacks spilt to the side.

  Tim was about to turn away when he saw something move. About twenty feet from his store, face-down on the street, a woman groaned and squirmed. He ducked back inside, searching the room for some form of protection. In his haste he'd broken into a pharmacy. The racks were mostly filled with vitamins or over-the-counter medications, nothing that could be of much use. He almost gave up when he saw an overcoat hanging over a chair by the register. Tim grabbed the jacket and ran to his daughter.

  "Mary, I need you to stay here while I check outside."

  Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and her cheeks were still wet. We pulled at his sleeves. "Daddy, don't go. Please don't leave me."

  Tim brought her close, held her head against his chest. Her sobs came in waves and she shook in his arms. "I'll come back. I promise
. Just stay inside. Stay safe, and I'll be back before you know it." He kissed her forehead and stood, donning the overcoat. He zipped it up until it covered his chin. Wondering the aisles he found a mask, goggles and latex gloves. Completely covered, he stepped out through the window into the falling poison.

  Black and red spores floated in the air, drifting lazily to the ground. It was only five but the sky was pitch black. Street lights wouldn't come on for another few hours and the path was lost in darkness. Tim's shoes crunched with each step. A fine layer of powder covered the pavement. He inched closer and closer to the woman on the ground. She was still moving, still moaning. Her face was turned away, but he could see thick black veins bulging from her hands and neck. Her fingernails were raw and red from scratching.

  "Miss? Are you OK?" He took another step closer. Each breath fogged the glasses, blinding him for a few feet until the cold air cleared them again. His heart pounded in his chest, echoing in his ears. "Can you hear me?"

  The woman shuddered suddenly, her body convulsing. Her limbs flailed as though possessed, and Tim thought he hear bones breaking. He pushed his fear aside and dropped down to his knees, grabbing ahold of the injured woman by her shoulders. He tried to roll her over, taking care not to get near her mouth. Some part of him remembered hearing that epileptics could bite off their tongues, and he didn’t want to add his own digits to the menu.

  As she flopped onto her back, it was all Tim could do to keep his lunch down. Her face was a spiderweb of black veins bulging and throbbing in time with her racing pulse. Masses roiled underneath the skin, inching their way around her neck and cheeks. But her eyes were the worst: oil black and wide open, with thin red lines streaking up from the lids. She gurgled and pink foam bubbled out between her lips.