Escape 2: Fight the Aliens

by T. Jackson King

  “Understood,” the reptilian kangaroo said, turning to face her own holos at her station. She pulled a tech device from a belt pouch, looked at it, then stored it. Her knee-length skirt bunched up over scaly knees. “Air pressure is normal and oxygen content remains at 22 percent,” Wind Swift barked low.

  “Perfect,” Jane said, looking to another crewmate. “Bright Sparkle, how function our fusion plants? Can they provide emergency power to the engines?”

  “Our three power plants are working perfectly,” said the speaker/vidcam unit on Sparkle’s left shoulder as rainbow colors flowed over her skin. Sitting in a flexmetal seat much like Bill’s, she rested both hands on her cargo pants. “Deuterium and tritium isotope fuel levels are at 87 percent of fuel tank capacity. Laser inertial impact fusion from the isotopes is stable. I am ready to override safety protocols in order to produce 110 percent of rated power output levels.”

  “Very good,” Jane said distractedly. “I see the transport has arrived in co-orbit sooner than the submarines. Long Walker, assist the transport in entering the Transport Exit Chamber.”

  “Assisting,” the Zipziptoe worm moaned.

  Bill watched his weapons holo as a left side chamber of the ship went airless, then the hull hatch lifted up. The hundred foot long transport Talking Skin lined up parallel to the thousand foot length of the Blue Sky and moved sideways to enter the open hatch, according to the readouts of the holo. It joined its fellow transport Tall Trees.

  “Weapons Chief,” called Jane. “Now would be a good time to greet the Chief of Naval Operations. And the other nine special operations volunteers he brought with him.”

  Bill stood up and saluted his wife, who was always his line superior since most SEALs were enlisted rank. While no SEAL team member gave a damn about rank during a mission, it was important elsewhere. At times like this, when combat and danger impended, it was even more important for him to show her the respect due her rank, and honor her daring in facing down the JCS. “Captain, I’m heading aft. I’ll send the spec ops folks off to their habitat rooms with hover bots, then bring the CNO up here.”

  The tall, slim, black-haired woman of Japanese ancestry, now dressed in her Airman Battle Uniform, nodded. “Exactly what I wish to happen,” she said in her command persona tone. She looked intently at him. “Do your duty. Then bring the CNO up here. We need to set him up at a Liaison duty station. Hopefully by the time the subs arrive in co-orbit.”

  “Arrival of the two human submarines is expected in 12 minutes,” hummed the voice of Star Traveler. “How close to this craft are they allowed to come?”

  Jane looked up at the white-glowing ceiling. “Bring them into contact with our belly hull,” Jane said tartly. “Arrange pressure-tight boarding tubes for connection with their aft access hatches. We need to provide vacsuits to the sub crews and their captains need to visit with me before the Collectors arrive.”

  Bill pointed his red cube at the oval door leading to the front hallway and tapped its button. The hatch opened and he stepped out just as the ship mind AI debated Jane’s newest instructions.

  “Such boarding tubes are dangerous,” the AI’s mech voice hummed long and low. “Emergency Operations of the Ship advise against allowing such connections.”

  His wife’s answer was lost as the hatch closed behind him. Bill turned right and headed down the left side main hallway, hoping he would make it to the Transport Exit Chamber before everyone finished exiting. It was only proper for the ship’s Executive Officer to welcome aboard a fellow officer. Bill looked down and scanned his blue NWU Type 1 camo uniform. No spots, no tears, the outfit looked inspection presentable. He grinned. On board the Blue Sky, the only person with the authority to inspect his uniform was Jane. And she saved such inspections for after hours in their private habitat room!

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Bill led the vice admiral into the Command Bridge with three minutes to spare before the arrival of the two submarines. Heading forward, he spoke to the ship mind.

  “Star Traveler, create a work station pillar module and seat to the left of my Ship Weapons station. Generate at least four status holos. Allow Vice Admiral Chester J. Richardson access to all ship communications links and accept his commands unless countermanded by me or Captain Jane.”

  To the left of his bridge station the flexmetal floor buckled, then two fixtures rose up. One was a three foot tall control pillar. Behind it and facing forward was a curving seat similar to Bill’s. Four holos flashed into being. They replicated the system graphic, true space and comlink holos of his own station. The fourth holo was empty until the admiral assigned it a function. The CNO, dressed in formal Dress Black uniform, moved past Bill and sat in the Liaison station seat. Bill headed for his own Weapons seat.

  “Weapons Chief MacCarthy,” called the AI in its trademark humming voice. “Liaison function post has been created. However, please explain the status of Admiral Richardson and the nine other humans who boarded with him. And the nine humans who you brought aboard. Are they crew or officers?”

  A soft chuckle came from Jane behind him. Bill stifled a quick retort. The ship AI was self-aware, but it had a strong fixation on ship protocols and operating standards. It had taken strong talk from Jane to get the AI to recognize that other officers besides herself would be part of the ship crew. The ship mind’s acceptance of her order moved his status from that of senior crewman to Executive Officer. It now wanted to know how to relate to the 19 new people who’d come aboard the ship.

  “Star Traveler, all new humans who arrived on my transport and on Learned Escape’s transport will be treated as ship crew. However, Admiral Richardson should be listed as our Liaison Officer.” There, that should fix the little AI’s quantum fluxes!

  “What priority should I assign to orders given by Admiral Richardson?” the ship mind hummed.

  On the true space holo there now appeared the black hulls of the two submarines, moving into a co-orbit and parking five miles ahead of the Blue Sky. “Orders of Admiral Richardson rank below orders given by me or by Captain Jane Yamaguchi. If there is a conflict between his orders and those given you by me or the captain, disregard his orders.”

  “Thank you for clarifying my status,” Richardson said calmly. “On board any ship there can only be one prime authority. The captain. I serve at her pleasure and in cooperation with you, Executive Officer MacCarthy,” the brown-haired man said as he locked his eyes onto the holo image of the two subs. “Not so easy seeing a black submarine against the blackness of space, is it?”

  “Not so easy,” Bill agreed, hoping the AI would keep its mouth shut. “However, this ship has multiple sensors. You can see those subs in infrared and in other modes.”

  “Really?” the stocky man said, his tone conversational. “The subs carry photonic masts in place of the old periscopes. Those masts provide normal light and infrared views of their surroundings. What does this ship see?”

  He blinked. “Star Traveler, provide an answer to the admiral.”

  “Complying,” the AI hummed. “Ship external sensors are able to sense x-rays, ultraviolet, infrared, far infrared, stellar wind, yellow light, ranging radar down to millimeter wavelength, beta and gamma rays, plasma sources, neutrinos, gamma rays and microwaves,” the AI hummed low. “In the realm of imagery, the ship possesses what you Humans refer to as electro-optical telescopes similar to your GEODSS system, speckle interferometry, high-resolution near infrared spectroscopy, radar pulse compression ranging, PAVE-PAWS phased array radar, and ultrawideband imaging radar.”

  “Impressive,” Richardson muttered. “Please display in my unassigned holo the most distinct image of the two subs which your sensors can provide. Make the image suitable for a person with yellow light sensitive eyesight,” he added.

  “Sensors adjusted. Imagery created in fourth holo.”

  Bill glanced to the left. The AI had chosen to image the subs in infrared light, which made sense considering the heat of their passage through E
arth’s atmosphere. Which heat was now bleeding off in the near absolute zero coldness of space. Still, the two subs showed clearly in admiral’s holo. He tapped his Ship Weapons pillar to convert the true space image of Earth and space to infrared emissions. In less than a second he saw what the admiral was seeing.

  “Star Traveler,” Jane called. “Open an encrypted microwave communications link with the two submarines. Advise the receiving staff that I wish to speak with their captain.”

  “Complying. Microwave comlink established, with mutual encryption as determined by the Peterson facility link,” the AI hummed low.

  Bill’s comlink holo showed a full-body image of Jane. Whose posture was firmly upright. “Calling the captains of the USS Minnesota and USS Louisiana. This is Captain Jane Yamaguchi, U.S. Air Force, in command of the starship Blue Sky. Please respond.”

  Jane’s image moved to one side, to be joined by two men wearing sub officer uniforms. One was black while the other was Anglo. The black man spoke first.

  “Captain Yamaguchi, I am Captain Joshua Baraka of the USS Louisiana, SSGN-743.” The man’s image came from the CIC portion of the Trident missile sub, with other sailors in the background. “First, thank you very much for the gift of the Magfield spacedrive. Sailing the depths of space is an experience I and my crew welcome. What are your orders?”

  “Welcome Captain Baraka,” Jane said.

  The Anglo sub officer, who was bald and wore his uniform with no tie in his attack sub’s CIC, showed an easy smile. “Captain Yamaguchi, I am Captain Paul Leonard of the USS Minnesota, SSN-783. Let me add my thanks to Captain Baraka’s for the Magfield spacedrive engine. It is a wonder! Now, how can I and my crew help you defend America from these Collector bastards?”

  Jane’s image moved to formal command manner. “Captain Leonard, Captain Baraka, I am sending you the vidcam imagery of our several space battles that involved Collector ships. Study them.” She touched the top of the Library control pillar. “In the meantime, please move your ships to the underside of my vessel, with the Minnesota on the left and the Louisiana on the right. You will see green and yellow blinking lights that indicate docking tube collars that are even now descending. They will attach to your rear access hatches. Keep adequate clearance between your conning tower and my hull.” Jane sat back and folded hands over the green camo of her ABU. “While I cannot allow your crew to board this ship due to limited air generation capabilities, I request each of you to board and join me on the Command Bridge of Blue Sky. While we consult on combined maneuvers, hover bots will be delivering 160 vacsuits to each ship, so your crew and yourself will survive any laser fire that breaches your hull.”

  “Excellent,” Baraka said, his expression going business-like. “My chief navigator is using the control tablet you provided for the Magfield drive to move us underneath your hull. We will approach at ten feet per second. Agreed?”

  “Agreed,” Jane said. “Captain Leonard, please approach in the same way after the Louisiana has docked with us. While my ship is large, my bottom hull is vulnerable to deforming. I want to give your crew the best chance of surviving the upcoming space combat, but I cannot risk damage to this ship. It is Earth’s only starship and I have every intention of taking her out to the stars again. After we defeat and capture these Collectors!”

  The Anglo nodded quickly. “Understood. We will watch the docking of the Louisiana to your bottom hull before we move the Minnesota into contact with her docking collar. Once air pressure equalizes, I will come aboard your ship. My XO will remain on board and respond to any orders from you.”

  “Outstanding,” Jane said, showing her first smile in several hours. “We have much to do over the next 47 hours. And the fleet maneuvers I plan will give your subs and your crews their first close up view of the Moon. I’ll explain the details once you arrive on my bridge.”

  Leonard returned her smile. “Executing. I look forward to meeting you in person, Captain Yamaguchi.”

  “I too,” Baraka said in a deep bass. “My helm is now moving us to docking collar linkup. Ending this conversation.”

  The images of both men disappeared. In the holo, Jane looked his way. “Executive Officer, I believe you have 18 collector pod boarders to visit with and train in taking over six enemy starships.”

  Bill stood up, turned to face her and saluted. “Captain, you are correct. My holo says the nine volunteers from MacDill have now left their habitat rooms and are heading for the Collector Pods Chamber. I leave to gather my saloon volunteers from the Food Chamber and take them to meet the new spec ops folks.”

  She gave him a friendly wink, then looked to Richardson’s station. “Admiral, will you fill me in on the combat capabilities and missile armament of these two subs? And I would appreciate any background on the two captains that you can share.”

  Bill slung his backpack and headed for the bridge exit door. Now came the hard work. Getting 18 men and women ready to work as three person boarding teams was part of his SEAL training. Ensuring they survived their boarding efforts was something only he and Jane could teach. And she had officers to meet, greet and command. He pointed his red cube at the entry hatch. It opened. Passing into the main hallway, he turned left and headed down the right side main hallway, aiming for the Food Chamber. He didn’t know these new arrivals, but coming from MacDill and the Joint Special Operations Command of USSOCOM, they were certain to be fighters. He looked forward to meeting them.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Listen up,” Bill called to the 18 spec ops folks gathered in the high-ceilinged Collector Pods Chamber. They were all dressed in green camo Army BDUs, wore backpacks like the one he now wore, and all had on bullet-resistant chest and back plates. Plus sod-breaking boots, none of them looking new. Even his saloon buddies had understood the need to be prepared for bad terrain. His buddies stood to his right. Behind them, filling half the chamber, was a three-tier rack that supported the 24 collector pods carried by the Blue Sky. The rack stretched from one end of the chamber to the far end. Each tier held eight pods.

  He focused on the new arrivals from MacDill, who formed a line to his left. He counted four Army Green Berets wearing their distinctive headgear, two Air Force pararescue folks wearing the maroon beret that went with being a PJ, and three SEALs, who wore the standard floppy green all-weather hat favored by their instructors at Coronado. One Green Beret was a stocky Hindu woman with tied back hair, but he was startled to see a woman among the SEALs. While it had been a few years since all combat posts had been opened to females, still, he was amazed to see a woman in his old unit. While the movie years ago about a woman SEAL had been partly accurate in its depiction of their training regime, still, being a SEAL graduate was commonly viewed as signaling an alpha male. Or so his saloon buddies had remarked whenever he or Stefano had visited a new bar. The swarming of sheilas around them offering to buy drinks had been a mild source of jealousy among his buddies. No matter. What was important was that these nine were combat-blooded, they understood the mission was all important and they were all volunteers.

  “People, the mission is simple. Capture the Collector starships,” Bill continued. “To do that, three person teams enter the pods behind you, travel to a Collector starship, arrive at a chamber identical to this one, you taser zap the Alien crewman sent to gather your supposedly unconscious body, grab the red cube from the Alien, use it to enter the main hallway and then laser-seal the access door to the Weapons Chamber of the Collector ship,” he said, scanning each volunteer and noting the names of the MacDill nine as shown on their chest tabs. “That chamber is directly across from the exit door for this chamber. You will be luckier than Jane and I were when we first began our ship takeover. We had to run from the opposite side of the ship to this side, in order to arrive before the three Alien crew got to this ship’s Weapons Chamber.” He paused, wondering if any of them would yield to curiosity and ask stupid questions. No one did. “You’re all trained for hostile boarding, strong point takeovers an
d working in scuba suits. But taking over a Collector ship will not be easy.” He nodded at the Asian-looking SEAL woman, who had leaned forward, her manner showing a wish to ask a question. “Yes Janice?” he said, reading her name tag.

  “Sir,” she said in a melodious soprano. “What is your order of training for this operation?”

  A reasonable question. “To begin with, we go by first names. And fuck rank. Second, in a few moments you will view a holo of mine and Jane’s takeover run of this ship, how we learned its layout, how we got the aid of its ship mind, and how we eventually accessed the Command Bridge and captured the SOB cockroach who was its captain.” He ignored the curious looks of most of them. “In that holo you will see five Alien bioforms, how they fought, how we defeated them, and how we later stored them in cells in the Containment Cell Chamber of this ship. Third, I’ll show you the innards of one of the pods. Think of tight quarters aboard a UH-60 Black Hawk copter. Fourth, each of you dons a vacsuit and keeps it on until you get a sleep break 12 hours from now.” Bob the cynical Marine grinned and gave him a wink. “Fifth, we’ll cross over to this ship’s Weapons Chamber, get laser and taser tube weapons and explosive balls, then return here for target practice. Sixth, we will break into three person teams and spend 30 hours doing Op Force combat runs up and down the hallways of this ship. One team will imitate the Aliens trying to zap or kill you, while a second team will be the boarders trying to get past them.” He looked around, meeting each of them eye to eye. “What makes this a hard row to hoe is that you cannot kill any of the Alien crew, even if they are trying to kill you. The reason has to do with gaining the help of the Collector ship’s AI—you will hear how Jane and I discovered that wearing vacsuits created an Emergency response from this ship’s AI. And how the ship’s Emergency Protocols kept the ship captain from killing us with super-heavy gravity. Or similar deadly adjustments of ship systems.” He scanned the personal weapons worn by each volunteer. “You will see that I’m wearing a Fed Ordnance .45 semi-auto. It’s what I took fishing when I was captured by a collector pod like those behind you. You can use your personal arms against any robot or control device on the enemy Collector ship. But use your laser only to wound or disable the crew and captain.” He grinned. “Taser zapping the captain allows the ship AI to move ship control to the team leader, who will identify himself as the prime leader of your boarding team.”