Yellow electrical light flared around the black box.
The Engine Chamber door slid right into the wall.
Holding his taser front and ready, Stefano kicked at the ceiling of the central hallway, aiming for the open door. As his vacsuited form neared the opening his fellow SEAL twisted in midair so his boots faced the floor.
“Thump!”
Stefano landed hard in the half gee gravity of the Engine Chamber. Keeping his balance with widespread arms, the man spoke.
“Ship mind, the captain of this Collector ship is disabled and not aware. Transfer control of ship operations to me.”
“Understood. Accepted. Shifting control to you, per the game instructions of Executive Officer MacCarthy,” the AI hummed low.
Bill kicked at the hallway ceiling, twisted in air and landed hard on his boots just behind where Stefano stood.
“You won this round,” he said, slapping his friend on the right shoulder. “Nice decision to use the bodies of your teammates as shields against Op Force taser fire.”
Stefano gave him a quick nod, his look serious. “It served the mission. Control of the Alien Collector ship is now mine. Uh, when it happens for real, what do I tell the ship mind to do?”
“Star Traveler, slowly restore one gee gravity to this room and to the outside hallway. Return all illumination to yellow normal.” Bill gestured at the four immobile teammates floating in the hallway. “Come in here after you regain your footing.”
In seconds the six team members were gathered around him. None of them were looking around at the giant tubes of two Magfield spacedrives, or at the six foot high silver command pedestal that occupied a nearby corner of the room. Good. Mission focus was what should always dominate. Leastwise until the last functions were carried out.
“All teams now watching this holo, and you six here, when you do gain control of the Command Bridge of the Collector ship, do just what Stefano did,” he said over the vacsuit comlink. “First, taser zap the ship captain if the critter is not already disabled. Second, transfer ship control to your team leader the way Stefano did. Third, tell the ship mind to move the Collector ship to a holding station at the L4 Lagrange point ahead of the Moon. That position will take your ship out of the live fire fight between our fleet and the remaining Collector ships.”
The Air Force PJ, whose first name was Alonzo, spoke. “XO, what do we do with the taser zapped bodies of the Alien crew? And how do we handle any boarding crew person who is hurt? Laser wounded or hit by shrapnel?”
Medical aid was of course the principle purpose of a PJ. While every PJ had chute drop and other training similar to a SEAL or Delta Force member, it was their year-long medical training to be a field doctor when a flight crew person was badly hurt that had always been valued by every SEAL team he’d served on. PJs always went into the field with any SEAL team. And while they could fire a weapon as well as any SEAL, still, medical rescue was their primary objective. Which was why Alonzo was asking his question.
Bill gave the man a thumbs-up. “Good question. And exactly right. Even though you and other teams may use taser zapped teammates as shields in order to complete the mission, never forget that they need help. Ship map, Star Traveler.” A holo took shape between him and the six team members. He pointed. “Take the taser zapped bodies of the ship crew and captain to the Containment Cell Chamber. Use your red cube to open a cell. Put them inside, one crewman to one cell. They’ll recover in nine hours and have food and water available.” He pointed to another part of the ship cross-section. “Any team member with a wound of any sort, take them to the Med Hall here. Inside you will find clamshell healer units, like those you saw earlier in this ship’s Med Hall. Make your teammate naked, put them inside a clamshell and close its top. The machine will start up automatically and begin healing your teammate. Believe me, these clamshells are extraordinary in what they can heal! Your ship mind will tell you when the healing is completed.” He looked around. “Anyone with other mission relevant questions?”
“Yes,” called the Green Beret, whose name was Francis. “What does a boarding team do if they hit a stalemate in their efforts to capture ship control?”
Bill had expected that question to come up earlier. Maybe the fatigue of spending 35 hours straight doing Op Force battles had blunted the curiosity of his boarders. Or maybe they simply took it for granted that they would succeed. That was the mind orientation of every special operations person he’d ever met.
“You talk to the ship mind of the Collector ship,” Bill said bluntly. “As Jane and I shared with you earlier, our ship mind is in neutrino comlink contact with the ship minds of the six Collector ships. That contact is without delay, as if you are talking the way we talk now,” he said, looking at the six of them. “While the Alien crews have blocked those ship minds from active control of the Collector ship’s major systems, leaving most ship control to the Aliens on the Command Bridge, those six ship minds can talk to our ship. They will convey any call from you to me, to Jane or to the CNO, depending on who is available. We will help you any way we can.” Bill shrugged his shoulders, causing his backpack to sit looser on his back. He tapped his chest plate. “Remember that these chest plates will only block taser beams if they hit on the plates. You get hit elsewhere and you are out for nine hours. You get hit by a laser beam and you’ll need treatment by a clamshell healer.” He blinked, meeting his boarders eye to eye. “You will survive your boarding! Short of being hit in the head by a laser, these healer units can repair any wound. They fixed my deaf ear from an IED blast. So, move fast, hit hard and overcome the five members of each ship’s crew before they realize they’re facing combat-trained boarders!”
“We will!” called Bob, the gray-haired cynic showing true enthusiasm.
“Lead us and we will fight,” said Jake, his manner SEAL calm. The man’s gray eyes were bright with eagerness.
“Follow me out of here and back to the Collector Pod Chamber,” Bill said, turning and leaving through the still open door of the Engine Chamber. “Everyone, put your vacsuit in the pod chamber’s airlock room, then head to the Food Chamber for a synthetic meal of whatever you can stomach.” Behind him came the thud of six pairs of boots. “After that, you are ordered to head to your habitat room and get at least eight hours of deep rem sleep. When you wake up, put on fresh BDUs and join me in the Command Bridge. We will be moving this ship, our transports and the subs to the vicinity of the Moon, there to face the incoming Collector ships!”
♦ ♦ ♦
Bill woke up from his own rem sleep when Jane entered the front living room. Though she moved quietly, aware he was catching his first winks in 35 hours, still, he was a SEAL. No one entered any room he was in without him knowing it, asleep or awake. She came back to the bedroom and undressed in the dark of the room, only the four green wall patches giving any illumination. She slid under the silken sheets, pumped her pillow and lay nearby.
He reached out and gripped her warm hand. “Hard day?”
She sighed. “Not really. The sub captains are smart, sharp and long deployment experienced. They handled the null gravity surprise very well. While the gravity plates will give them normal weight on their subs, I wanted them to experience what space was about.”
He chuckled. “Did they go all wavy-arm?”
“Nope,” she said, her soprano soft as she squeezed his hand. “Both of them had had parachute drop training during some mixed duty assignments. They managed to tap the floor enough to give them momentum to whichever direction they wanted to go. How did your Op Force stuff end up?”
“Very well,” he said, turning on his left side and putting his head close enough so he could smell the jasmine perfume she wore while awake. “You smell wonderful. Need a massage?”
She now chuckled. “Not the type you have in mind! But my shoulders could sure use some deep massage. Sitting stiff in that command seat for hours is a bit tiresome.”
“As you command,” he said, waiting until
she rolled left onto her side. He reached out with his right hand, found her right shoulder and began the deep kneading massage he’d learned as a kid from his Mom and Dad. They had become addicted to Oriental-style massages while on carrier duty in Yokohama, years ago.
“That feels good,” she murmured, sounding sleepy.
Her tone reminded him of how much he had come to love her. At first they’d spent time together cause they were the only humans on the Blue Sky, leastwise until they liberated Bright Sparkle and Learned Escape. Later, they’d found they both loved playing Scrabble and doing crossword puzzles, of which the ship’s Library archive had a deep inventory. That had led to more sharing of their families, their time growing up and their mutual decisions to enlist. He’d been amazed at the hi-tech stuff filling the rooms at Peterson. She’d been fascinated by the details of his hostage rescues. Together, they had become a couple in love and happy to share all they were with each other. And he found he no longer woke up with his hands clenching the neck of his lover. His IED nightmares had mostly faded, and nothing made him treat her roughly. For which he thanked whatever gods ruled the universe.
When he heard her breathing deepen, he stopped the massaging. Being together like this, a married couple who had traveled the stars and met amazing Alien people, was enough. He lay back and worked at slowing the beat of his heart and worked at clearing his mind of all thought. Deep meditation was something he’d learned from his parents and now it helped him fall back to the sleep he needed.
CHAPTER SIX
Bill sat at his Ship Weapons station, with Admiral Richardson to his left at Liaison, Bright Sparkles to his right at Fusion Power, the rest of the crew further along, and Jane seated behind them at her post atop the command pedestal. The seats to her right and left were empty. Learned Escape and Builder of Joy were long gone on their transports, which now rode ahead of the Blue Sky along with the two subs. His 18 boarders sat at the far rear, in seats along the back wall. Ship mind had given each boarder a true space holo so they could follow whatever happened. He scanned the holos facing him. Time to see what was what.
The system graphic on his left showed the six purple dots of the Collector ships had advanced to the orbit of Mars. Within four hours the enemy would hit the Earth-Moon zone. At his upper left his weapons holo showed the ship cross-section and all weapons. They showed Green Operational. The antimatter reservoir had enough AM for four quick shots. The true space holo to his upper right showed the blue and white curve of Earth, with the sunlit shapes of the transports and subs lying ahead of them in their orbital vector. To his right the comlink holo showed Jane, dressed in her blue camo Air Force ABU, sitting atop her pedestal. She looked refreshed. They’d awoken together this morning and had shared a meal together in the Food Chamber. The admiral and his Alien crewmates had also taken a food and sleep break during the 42 hours since his boarders had arrived on the Blue Sky. Now, everyone was ready to head for the Moon. He spoke to his lifemate.
“Captain, all ships are Magfield alive,” he said, striving for a relaxed tone. “Talking Skin, Tall Trees, the Louisiana and the Minnesota report ready to deorbit.”
She smiled. Jane had seen the same sensor readings he had seen, but one job of an XO was to remind his captain of the timing involved in combat. “Thank you, Executive Officer.” She looked up at the white glowing ceiling. “Star Traveler, establish a neutrino comlink with each of our ships.”
“Link established,” the AI said with a low hum.
“Captains Baraka, Leonard, Learned and Builder, move your ships to positions above, below and to either side of the Blue Sky, in order of my mention of your name,” she said calmly, her manner command alert. “Make your separation distance at 4,000 miles. Once you are in position, we will all depart for the north pole of the Moon. Our ship navigator will feed vector angles to you. Move at top Magfield speed. Execute!”
In seconds the four smaller ships had moved to surround the Blue Sky.
“Captain Yamaguchi, we are in position,” Baraka said from the Louisiana, his red-lit image filling part of the comlink holo on Bill’s right. Baraka wore a vacsuit and helmet, like all his sailors.
“Captain of the fleet, same for us,” Leonard called from the attack sub Minnesota. The bald man’s image showed him also wearing one of the vacsuits delivered to his sub. Like Baraka, his image was red-lit as he stood in the CIC of the sub.
“Captain,” called Learned Escape from the Talking Skin. “My ship is oriented as commanded.” The Alien who spoke in bands and dots of color also wore a clear vacsuit, with his speaker/vidcam unit on his left shoulder.
“Me too Captain Yamaguchi!” chittered Builder of Joy, the image of the giant squirrel showing him in his own vacsuit and sitting within the front pilot space of the transport Tall Trees.
Lofty Flyer touched her Navigation pillar top. “Vector angles transmitted to control tablets of the submarines and to the transports,” the brown-furred squirrel lady chittered softly.
“Life Support is fully operational,” called Wind Swift the scaled kangaroo.
Bright Sparkle tapped the top of her control pillar. “All fusion reactors now operating at full output,” she said.
Jane nodded. “Time Marker, move us out at one-tenth lightspeed!”
The yellow electrical nimbus that surrounded the black-skinned walking snake expanded outward. “Both Magfield drive engines activated. We depart at maximum speed,” his shipmate hissed.
The true space holo lost Earth and its orbiting satellites. An image of a white full Moon filled the holo as Bill’s ship curved out on the Moon transit vector.
The star images blurred as the Blue Sky moved toward the Moon at 67.1 million miles per hour. While such a trip would take only 13.14 seconds at full Magfield speed, still it took a while to move up to full one-tenth lightspeed, then time to slow down. Within a minute, though, they had arrived above the north pole of the Moon. Below them lay the crater Rozhdestvensky and dozens of similar ice-filled impact craters. In his comlink holo, Jane leaned forward as she scanned her dozen ship status holos.
“Navigator, orient our ship’s nose toward the Lagrange 5 orbital position,” she said firmly. “Crew and fellow captains, my analysis of the incoming vector of the Collector ships indicates those ships will pass on that side of the Moon, within 10,000 miles of the Moon’s surface.”
“That puts them within range of our lasers,” Bill commented.
“And vice versa,” Jane said. “We have just less than four hours before these ships arrive. Time for a final weapons report. Weapons Chief, I can see from my own Weapons holo duplicate that all is fine in your department.” She looked to her comlink holo, which still carried the images of the four other captains. “Captains Learned and Builder, I know your ship lasers are functional. What is the load status for your MITV torpedoes?”
The near-human form of Learned looked thoughtful. “Talking Skin presently carries nine torpedoes, each outfitted with five multiply independently targeted thermonuclear warheads. Maximum yield of each warhead is three megatons.”
The brown fur of Builder of Joy stiffened as his excitement showed. “Tall Trees can let fly with eight torpedoes! Our nose laser is at full power. We will fly about them like a bee around a flower and sting them where it will hurt!” chittered the Aelthorpe alien.
Jane smiled at the enthusiasm of the brave squirrel man. While smaller than most humans, the flying squirrel had enough bravery to fill a stadium. Bill appreciated the detail of the Megun man who had become Bright Sparkle’s frequent love interest. And she his. Jane gestured at her comlink holo.
“Captain Baraka?”
The black man in charge of one of America’s fourteen Trident submarines looked away from a vacsuited sailor who sat before a flatscreen. “My Executive Officer reports that this ship’s weapons are fully functional and ready to fire. We possess 24 Trident II D5 three-stage missiles. Each missile carries 12 W88 thermonuke warheads. Yield of each warhead ranges from 300 to 4
75 kilotons, depending upon our final dialup. Range of each missile is a nominal 7,000 miles, but that is within Earth’s gravity field,” the man said, his tone gravelly. “In space, once we launch a warhead toward a vector target, it will keep going. As I’m sure you are aware, Captain Yamaguchi.”
“Yes,” Jane said. “We have had similar experiences with our MITV torp warheads. You can fire other offensive rockets, can you not?”
“We can,” Baraka said, his forehead shining with a light sheen of sweat. “We have four Mark 68 torpedo tubes. While in port at Norfolk, just after the President’s announcement, Vice Admiral Richardson arranged for us to receive a full complement of Harpoon, ASROC and SUBROC rockets with nuclear warheads. To replace our Tomahawks. We can fire six Harpoons, six ASROCs and four SUBROCS. Warhead size on each is 250 kilotons. Range in space is essentially unlimited.”
Jane nodded. “Thank you. Captain Leonard?”
The Anglo in charge of the 377 foot long attack sub wore no hat inside his vacsuit. Like Bill’s spec ops people, the sub crews had quickly discovered hats of any sort got in the way during combat action. Leonard looked left at something in his CIC room, then faced Jane. “Captain Yamaguchi, the Minnesota is outfitted with 12 vertical launch missile tubes. We can fire twelve Standard 2 missiles. Each Standard carries a single 350 kiloton thermonuke warhead. And like the Louisiana, we have four torpedo tubes capable of firing both Harpoons and ASROCs. Of which we carry nine each in the forward torpedo bay.” The man paused, looked down, then up. “Regarding the later boarding effort by your collector pods, this sub contains a large lock-in, lock-out diver chamber designed for use by scuba-wearing SEALs and special operations teams. If any of your pod teams need help, we are willing to close on a Collector ship, attach a boarding tube, and send some of our security folks to help out.”
Richardson moved to Bill’s left. “Captain Yamaguchi, that option to aid a pod boarding may be useful,” the Chief of Naval Operations said hurriedly. “And with General Poindexter’s help, I was able to substitute rockets for the Tomahawks and water torpedoes carried by both boats, plus increase the missile loadout numbers. These subs will bite hard, then have enough ammo to bite hard again!”
Escape 2: Fight the Aliens Page 8
