The Eternal Enemy

by Michael Berlyn

  Markos’s watch, under his leadership, started the Paladin into motion once again, heading deeper into the Hydrans’ territory. Straka was in the command chair when the relative-motion detector went off.

  “What’s that?” Straka asked.

  There was a flurry of activity as the watch came to life. The crew turned their full attention on the instruments. As systems officer, Markatens was the first to speak.

  “It’s one of your detection systems,” Markatens said. “There’s an object traveling at near light, small enough to be a ship, too small to be a planetary body.”

  “Oh God,” Straka sighed.

  “Orders?” Markatens asked.

  Straka hit the control panel on the command chair. “Markos, report to the bridge immediately. And bring the Old One.” She turned back to Markatens. “Just shut off the warning system, please. Kominski, get a fix on this ship. Katawba, power up the weapons, and Wilhelm, get ready to decelerate at maximum speed and translate.”

  Now all she had to do was wait for Markos. She tried to find a little moving blip on the screens that surrounded them, in the vastness of space into which she stared, but there were far too many points of light in motion. At the speed they were traveling there was no way of distinguishing the relative motion of the stars from the constant motion of the ship.

  “What is it?” Markos demanded from the top of the ramp. He was followed by the Old One.

  Straka got out of the command chair and pointed to it. “It’s all yours. One of NASA 2’s systems went off, and Markatens tells me we’ve spotted a ship.”

  Markos’s eyes flashed canary yellow with surprise and questions. He sat in the command chair.

  “You want my watch here?”

  “How long till they’re relieved?” Markos asked.

  “A few hours.”

  “Sure. Kominski, have you got its course yet?”

  “Yes,” Kominski said. “But if it’s a Hydran ship, it makes no sense. The ship is heading in the general direction of the Epsilon Scorpio System, but with a distinct downward angle relative to the galactic ecliptic.”

  “What’s down there?”

  “I don’t know,” Kominski said, “and the navigational computer doesn’t know either. There’s nothing within the first-wave radius—no K-type stars—they could possibly be heading for.”

  Markos slapped the command chair’s console, opening shipwide communications. “Prepare for maximum deceleration,” he said. “Immediately. Get ready, Wilhelm.”

  “Ready.”

  “Are there any K-type stars in its path, Kominski?”

  “Yes, but none that aren’t already colonized.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. You’re right, Kominski.” He turned to Straka. “We have to intercept it.”

  “I figured,” Straka said. “That’s fine.”

  “Deceleration in ten seconds,” Markos said into the communications network. “Attach yourselves.”

  Straka needed no further reminder. She sat on the decking beside the Old One and altered her outer covering to merge with the deck, then made her whole body hard. The others on the bridge were doing the same thing in their seats. Wilhelm provided a calm countdown, then hit the engine controls, starting the engines on the four Haber ships that pointed backward. The tremendous force blocked out everything else in Straka’s mind as she felt every molecule in her body shift forward to try to keep up with the speed they’d been traveling, try to escape through her skin. The deceleration surge lasted almost half a minute and then was gone.

  “Translate,” Markos said.

  Wilhelm switched in the translation equipment, transferring them from tau to real.

  “Have you projected an interception course?” Markos asked Kominski.

  “Working on it. Should have it in a moment.”

  “When you’ve got it, lay it in.”

  “Okay.”

  Kominski entered the course a few seconds later.

  “Entered,” Kominski said.

  “Time to interception?”

  “One hour,” Kominski said.

  “We should try to establish radio contact,” Straka said.

  “What for?” Markos asked.

  “Well, what are you going to do, blow it out of space?”

  “No. But we can’t let it continue on its present course without at least contaminating it with the virus.”

  “I agree. Let’s try to establish contact,” Straka said. “We might be able to intimidate the crew of their ship. The Paladin does look pretty imposing.”

  Markos shrugged. “I suppose it’s worth a try.”

  Markos had Markatens channel a radio beacon into one of Katawba’s aimed lasers. Katawba took three minutes to reprogram one of the tight beams, then aimed it at the distant ship.

  “Are you hitting it?” Markos asked.

  “Yes,” Katawba said.

  “We’ll wait a few minutes to let them respond by radio. Then we’ll dump the signal and try that light-intensity laser. Use single pulses and see what happens.”

  “Right,” Katawba said.

  Straka had never expected the Hydran ship to respond to either the radio waves or the light beacon. There was something about the Hydrans, perhaps their single-mindedness, that precluded interruption on their flights. Why else would you have two-way radio communication on board? No one on their home planet was going to send a message for them to turn around and come back. She figured that even if something went wrong, the Hydrans would let their colonizing ship drift endlessly—the bodies on board could be happily replaced by the home population.

  “Try the light beam,” Markos said.

  “Right,” Katawba said.

  Even if there were some other reason for communication between the ship and its home, the Hydrans didn’t seem to be the type of creatures who would use it. They were far too driven, far too obsessed with expansion to bother with ship-to-ship communication. Their colonizing ships were little more than projectiles hurled into other star systems, exploding the Hydran seed on whatever planet they happened to land. Still, they had to make the effort.

  “Nothing,” Markos said to Straka.

  Straka flashed red.

  “Do we know it’s a Hydran vessel?” Wilhelm asked.

  “No,” Markos said. “Though we will soon enough. Markatens, put the screen in the unknown ship’s sector on maximum magnification.”

  Markatens did as ordered.

  “Kominski, plot in a nearly parallel course. I want to stay about this distance, closing in on them slowly, heading in the same direction as they are.”

  “That will take a few,” Kominski said.

  “Take your time.”

  “What are you planning?” Straka asked.

  “I’m not going to risk everything, especially now that we have a solution. I can’t bring the Paladin in too close. But we could send out H-one. It’s fully armed. We could send a crew of two, carrying the virus. They could move in a lot closer than we could.”

  “You want them to dock?”

  Markos flashed a strong red. “What a great opportunity this is, Straka. We’ve never known how the Hydrans travel through space, how they pilot their ships, how many Hydrans are actually on board their first-wave ships. There’s so much we don’t know about them. We don’t even have a clear idea as to where they are technologically.”

  “Sounds like a suicide mission to me,” Straka said. And it did. If the Hydrans had any weapons on board, which they had to, they would use them as soon as H-l got within their range. And it was highly doubtful the Hydran vessel itself was unarmed. Just because they didn’t have ship-to-ship radio or light-beacon communications didn’t mean they weren’t armed. And they still didn’t know that the Hydrans were without communication—they just knew that the Hydrans hadn’t responded to the hailing.

  “I’m not asking you to go,” Markos said.

  “I didn’t offer my services,” Straka said.

  “Course is prepared,
” Kominski said.

  “Lay it in, Kominski.”

  “You want to go with me, Wilhelm?” Straka asked.

  “Sure,” Wilhelm said. “Sounds like tons of fun.”

  “No,” Markos said. “I’m going.”

  “No way, man,” Wilhelm said. “Every time some lousy job comes up, you volunteer for it, and you get all the fun. You’ve got to learn to let others enjoy themselves too.”

  Markos flashed red. “All right. You two can take H-one. And don’t forget the virus.”

  “I wouldn’t go anywhere without my virus,” Wilhelm said.

  Straka sat in the control seat of H-l studying the startank before her. It was studded with stars; the one closest to the center had to be Pi Hydra. She saw the dot that represented H-l and the small moving dot that represented the Hydran ship. It wouldn’t be too hard to match its course and run parallel to it, catch up to it, then slowly close the distance between them. After a systems check they broke off from the mother ship and angled in toward the Hydran ship.

  Straka watched the screens with Wilhelm. They could see the Hydran ship clearly now, though it was still a tiny speck of light.

  “What do you think?” she asked Wilhelm.

  “About what?”

  “About what we’re doing.”

  “What’s to think? We take our chances. We get in close enough so that their weapons can be effective and then we pray a lot.”

  “Really,” Straka commented.

  “You take care of the weapons, and I’ll pilot the ship. At the first sign of trouble, blow the suckers right out of existence. Show them everything they ever wanted to know about the afterlife.”

  Straka continued to stare at the screens.

  “Look,” Wilhelm said, “Markos can get pretty heavy sometimes. He gets a little carried away. You should know that about him by now. He wants us to dock with the ship, do all that viral infection, take care of things. Sure. I’m all for it. Only if things look bad, I’m not about to get fried. You take your best shots, and I’ll get us the hell out of range.”

  “You’re right,” Straka said. “Let’s stop at a point where their weapons should still be ineffective.”

  “I don’t know where that point is. I don’t even know what they’ve got for weapons.”

  “True. I don’t either.” She turned and smiled at Wilhelm. “No one does.”

  “Okay, then, make yourself hard and we’ll do a little dance going in. I’ll zigzag a random course, alter speed, do everything I can to present our cute little friends a terrible target.”

  “Now that I like.”

  “See? Everything’s cool, amigo. Stick with me. We’ll make it.”

  They closed in on the ship in an insane course no computer or sentient creature could predict. There was no possible way any weapons system could be aimed and fired before Wilhelm made another zag. Wilhelm had the skill and was piloting a ship capable of responding to his masterful piloting.

  “We’re getting to the point where maneuvers won’t make much difference,” Wilhelm said.

  “How big you think their ship is?”

  “From what I can tell, it looks like it’s about twice our size.”

  So much for that idea, Straka thought. She’d hoped they could open the bay door and swallow the ship. But now they had no other choice but to dock with it. “It is Hydran, isn’t it?”

  “Without doubt,” Wilhelm said. “I’ve seen these babies in the crystals. This is the same type of landing craft they use to colonize. No question about it.”

  Straka glanced at the screen before her. Indeed it was the exact same configuration.

  “Funny, it’s not armed,” Straka said.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Let’s dock.”

  “Okay. Hold on.”

  Wilhelm maneuvered H-l to within a few meters of the larger Hydran ship. It was a slow operation and demanded his intense concentration. Straka was curious as to how they were doing but didn’t ask for fear of breaking Wilhelm’s concentration. They would know soon enough.

  At last Straka heard a dull clang as the ships touched. Wilhelm kept a minute amount of pressure to the starboard side of H-l to keep the two ships locked side by side.

  “Let’s move,” Straka said.

  “Be sure you attach the hulls before you slice through,” Wilhelm said. “The engine pressure should hold us, but I don’t want to rely on it totally.”

  “Right,” Straka said. She barely heard what Wilhelm had told her. She was in a daze, removed from the insanity and fear by a defense mechanism she had developed years ago: detachment. As she walked to the section of the hull where they would create a semipermanent docking and breach the hulls, she walked in slow motion, through water, her mind floating, her eyes taking in everything and nothing.

  “You okay?” Wilhelm asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Snap out of it! Come on.”

  Straka shook her head, trying to clear it. She covered her multiple eyes with her hands and took several deep breaths. “I’m okay now. Where’s my lasetube?”

  “It’s attached to your waist! For God’s sake, if you don’t shape up I’m going to get us the hell out of here. We don’t know what’s on the other side of their hull, and I’m not opening up any holes with you like this.”

  “Give me a few seconds and I’ll be okay.”

  But she could see the line of Hydrans waiting there, lasers pointed at her chest, the two of them running through the muddy ground, the ship sitting in the distance, Kominski’s insane laugh.…

  “Straka!”

  “Huh?”

  “Jesus. I’m getting us gone. That’s it.”

  “No, wait! Give me a few more seconds.”

  What’s wrong with me? she wondered. She rubbed her hands on the bulkhead, seeking the reassuring touch of something she knew was real, was solid. It felt as it should have felt; she took a few more deep breaths, then turned to Wilhelm.

  “I’m okay, now. Sorry. Let’s attach the hulls, okay?”

  Wilhelm was half a meter away, looking at her with grave concern. “It’ll wait another minute or two. You back in control? I mean really in control?”

  “Pretty much so. It just came on like a wave. It’s leaving, though. I’ll be okay in another minute.”

  Wilhelm flashed red and waited. A few minutes passed before Straka felt the dissociation dissolve in her mind as she returned to full awareness and control.

  “Okay. I’m fine,” Straka said.

  “You sure?”

  She flashed a deep red.

  “Okay,” Wilhelm said.

  They touched the bulkhead together, sending their probes through to the Hydran hull. The Hydran hull was made of a three-metal alloy, nothing extremely complex, and they bonded the two hulls together over several meters. When they were done, they removed their hands, looked at each other for a moment, then drew their lasetubes.

  “Let’s make ourselves hard, then start with a small hole,” Straka said.

  “You got it.”

  They began burning their way through the hulls.

  They activated their defense belts once they were about to pierce the Hydran ship’s hull. “If they’re standing there with weapons, don’t waste any time,” Straka ordered. “Just lase them.”

  “Right,” Wilhelm said.

  But when their lasers burned through the Hydran hull, there were no screaming Hydrans on the other side. A small amount of air from the Hydran ship leaked in, bringing with it a strange odor, faintly recognizable. With their bodies hard, recognizing strange odors was difficult at best.

  “What is that smell?” Wilhelm asked.

  “I can’t place it; but I know I’ve smelled it before,” Straka said.

  “It’s really familiar,” Wilhelm said.

  “It’s probably from lasing through the metal. Let’s open up a larger hole,” she said.

  “Right.”

  It took them just a few more minutes, and afte
r they had removed the charred hull sections, they peered into the Hydran ship.

  It was dark and murky inside the cabin. Straka and Wilhelm could barely see a thing. A chill ran up Straka’s spine. She poked her head through the hole, then quickly withdrew it. The smell, the one she couldn’t recognize, was stronger than ever.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What’s that smell? It reminds me of NASA 2.”

  She had seen vague shapes through the hole, like large cases or crates, probably filled with supplies or weapons, spread out over the deck of the cabin. Each case was several meters long, a meter high and a meter wide.

  She absorbed some of the electrons from her outer covering, making her nostrils permeable and her ear openings fully receptive. The scent was stronger. All she could hear was her own and Wilhelm’s bodily functions—nothing stirred within the Hydran ship. Her skin was still slightly toughened, though not rock hard.

  “I’m going in there,” she said.

  “Not without me, you’re not,” Wilhelm said.

  She peered through the opening again, then looked into Wilhelm’s multiple eyes. They were throbbing with dull light, showing his tension and excitement. “Wait here for me. If I run into trouble, I’ll yell. Don’t hesitate to jump through and don’t spare the fire power.”

  Wilhelm flashed a weak red.

  She climbed through the opening.

  As her feet touched the Hydran deck, her lasetube was in her hand, ready, and her skin was once again rock hard. She listened with all her attention and heard only the dull humming of the ship’s automatic systems. She was afraid to move, afraid of setting off some chain reaction. She braced herself and took a single step forward, silent and cautious, hoping that movement wouldn’t unleash a screaming wave of violent Hydrans.

  Nothing happened.

  She took another step.

  Still nothing.

  But she felt anything but safe. She bent down and placed a palm on the deck for stability. The deck vibrated with steadiness, with the ship’s life-support systems. She glanced back at the opening, at Wilhelm, and as she turned her head back, caught the glint of something shiny. A surge of fear raced through her body, freezing her for a moment, until she realized that her own eyes were glowing, had probably been reflected off some shiny surface