The Hidden Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  But Titus wasn’t finished. “It’s a damn dome of some sort. And there are cordoned-off areas that look like holding pens. Fuck, man, you’re not getting it! This is it! You don’t have to be a genius to put all the pieces together.”

  Neither of us spoke for several seconds. Was it really possible? “So you’re thinking that dome is for . . . what?”

  “Don’t be a moron, Polk . . . it’s got to be some kind of death chamber. They’re going to round everyone up and gas us, or something. Why else have all those armed troops? Why the holding pens?”

  “Just hold on. Let’s not do anything rash, okay, Titus? Remember, we have a plan. Sure, it’s early and we don’t have all the details set in place yet, but we just need a few more days.”

  “You’re not getting it. Either you’re in denial or just plain stupid, I don’t know which, but time’s up, man. We either mobilize now, or we accept their leading the lambs to slaughter scenario.”

  I thought hard about what he was saying. I had to admit he could be right.

  “It’s time I bring Betty out of mothballs,” he said.

  I knew he was referring to his pieced-together M1 Abrams tank. I was about to tell him to just wait. That we’d meet later tonight and come up with a new, more expedited plan that would put that tank of his to good use. But deep down I suspected we might not have much time. “Titus . . . I can’t tell you what to do, but I do think you’re right, for what it’s worth. I guess it’s now or never to put whatever assets we have to good use. Even if it’s a lost cause at this point.”

  “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page. Too bad it’s taken us until now, the end of days,” he said.

  “Could you at least hold off ‘till dark? Say, nine o’clock tonight?”

  “I guess. Yeah, it’ll probably take me that long to get everything up and running by then. FYI, I’ve called my other cell members . . . looks like I’ll have a full crew . . . be locked and loaded for bear.”

  “Good. So your plan then is take out that dome?” I asked.

  “That and kill as many of their Gap troops as humanly possible. Bring our own form of whoop-ass to them before we’re turned into hamburger meat. Hopefully, give you a diversion. Let you get those birds of yours airborne so you can do your thing too.”

  As soon as we hung up, I called my hacker friend Mike Post. By this time I’d pretty much given up using our pseudonyms. Even if my phone line was being tapped, someone listening in, I suspected it would take the EMS hours, if not days, to take any action over our conversations.

  “Mike!”

  “Polybius . . . what’s—”

  “Listen up, it’s going down now, tonight.”

  Mike hesitated. “Um, okay . . . not sure what that means exactly.”

  “It means it’s go time, time we make our stand. It’s now or never. So if you have any last minute intel . . .”

  “Some,” he said sounding nervous. “Marshal Grip still believes he’s one of Jhally’s Covert Actions Group agents. I’ve gone back and forth with him using that Gap ear puck device you gave me. Although he’s super nervous talking to me—”

  “Mike, just get to the point!”

  “Oh, yeah, sorry. It seems there’s been a change in the frequency of Gap trips flying up and back to those mother ships in high orbit. That Milonge Bi-Hull transport lands and takes off from the OEC building on most nights now.”

  “Tonight? Will it be making a trip tonight?”

  “I don’t know. We have no way of knowing that,” Mike said defensively.

  “We’re going to need that clearance . . . to enter the Solaris Habitat.”

  Mike laughed sarcastically. “Sure, coming right up. There’s no way for that to happen. Remember, I thought we still had days, even weeks, to pull everything together. I only have limited access to the Prim Network via this ear puck thingy.”

  “Get a hold of Marshal Grip and tell him he’ll have to hack the Prime Network . . . Tell him something, anything, to motivate him. Tell him he’ll be first in line to get one of those female worm bitches up in space . . . just try, Mike.”

  “All right, I’ll do my best.”

  chapter 25

  The Takebacks started arriving around eight o’clock in the evening, some four hours earlier than expected. But by now, of course, word was out all across Castle Rock, and its neighboring communities. Clearly, the Gap invaders were up to something with the arrival of so many ground forces—perhaps preparing to mount another, maybe final, military offensive. Everyone was scared, fearing the worst. To be honest, I’d expected most of my Takeback comrades to remain with their families—even going so far as to barricade themselves within their own homes—readying themselves to make a last stand against whatever the next Gap onslaught entailed.

  I was encouraged when our four pilots started to trickle into the barn; first, Orville Wright, the commercial airline pilot; then Chuck Yeager, a USAF Lieutenant; then Baron Von Rickenbacker, a seventy-year-old Vietnam airman; and finally Karen, a.k.a. Amelia Earhart, our Apache helicopter pilot. But perhaps the most surprising arrival of all was the contentious old Titus, the M1 tank commander, along with his team. The fact that everyone showed up tonight spoke volumes. It would be now or never. Without some kind of last-ditch effort on our part—even as futile as that effort might end up being—I suspected we would have no home, no families left to protect.

  I assumed my customary perch atop one of the Shredders. Sitting next to me was Jhally, who’d been up, stumbling about, since early this afternoon learning to use his new crutch. It wasn’t lost on me that at any moment my barn could be infiltrated by EMS marshals, or even the Earupitan military personnel we’d spotted lately around these parts. But if so, there was nothing I could do about it.

  One after another, more and more cars and trucks drove inside through the barn’s rear doors. I caught Donny’s eye. As he shepherded numerous vehicles within, I gave him a questioning gesture—what the hell? Why so many cars, so many strangers, far beyond our regular number of men and women, members of the Takebacks? I noticed most everyone was armed with either a pistol or a rifle. But I really shouldn’t have been surprised to see that word had spread beyond our fledgling group, now readying to strike back. At this point, it didn’t matter. We had more pressing concerns than maintaining secrecy this night. But the same questions and thoughts kept running through my mind, Is this really happening? Could this really be the end of days for Earth’s humanity?

  I watched as more arriving newcomers first took sight of our small squadron of Shredder craft, and then the alien, Jhally—seated next to me. Their startled expressions turned to curiosity, then something akin to hopefulness.

  Matt approached. Climbing up onto the Shredder’s wing, he leaned in. “Hey, too many cars to fit inside here. I don’t know who half these fucking people are. They’re parking on the driveway . . . and even beyond, out in the pasture.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “We can’t worry about it. After tonight, all bets will be off, anyway. Do me a favor, gather-up our pilots and co-pilots. We’ll make time to provide them with one more training session later on tonight.”

  “You think that’ll be enough?” Matt asked, looking skeptical.

  I glanced over to Jhally and we both shook our heads in response. “No, but it’ll have to do.”

  I looked down to see Karen, below me amidst the crowd, gazing up at me. She was wearing her badass outfit with the sleeves of her T-shirt torn free at the shoulders. She said, “Maybe you should say something to them. They’re scared and need direction.”

  “I guess you’re probably right.” I stood and waited for the crowd of at least three hundred men and women to take notice of me. Moments later, their voices had completely hushed within the old barn structure. “Some of you know me, some of you don’t. You can call me Polybius. For a good bit of time now, I’ve ru
n a small contingent of dissident Human rebels. A few Humans willing to face the consequences of torture and inevitable death, all for the opportunity to strike back any way we can at our Earupitan invaders. Over time, we’ve acquired these five Shredder craft. With the help of Jhally, here . . . yes, an alien, but a sympathizer and friend to our cause, we’ve repaired them and are able to pilot these vessels.”

  More men and women were funneling their way into the barn, some even had children in tow. An elderly couple, who had to be in their eighties, joined the fray.

  “Look, it’s no secret the Gaps are mounting a major offensive of some kind. It could be several days off, but hell, it could happen tonight. So we’re going to strike back as best we can . . . mostly in space, where the Gaps have their command ships and other vessels. But I have to be honest with you, other than causing a small diversion, a planned ground offensive was never part of . . . part of our plans. Mostly because it wasn’t something I gave much credence to as being all that effective. But maybe that was my mistake.”

  “Damn straight it was a mistake,” Titus yelled. “We’re not taking the Gap’s shit lying down . . . not again . . . not this time. We’re going to fight back, or die trying.”

  A chorus of loud cheers followed as the mass of people stood around below. How our secret group and meetings had gotten disclosed, I had my suspicions. Titus had broken the covenant of secrecy—both near and far. He’d spread the word. I again made eye contact with Karen and nodded.

  “Listen up. There will never, ever, be a better time than now to make a difference—to tip the scales, as slight as they may be, and strike back against Earth’s invaders. So I extend to all here a warm welcome into my barn. Personally, I believe with all my heart and soul, and the fire of payback I now breathe, that this isn’t the end of humankind.” I spoke the words passionately, with strong conviction, and almost believed them myself. “Simply put, I am offering each one of you the opportunity to perform like a true warrior; to do what is humanly right and decent. This call to arms comes only once, so please . . . don’t wait too long to answer it.”

  “What in god’s name do you expect us to do, other than defend our homes? Most of us here aren’t soldiers!”

  I was flabbergasted to note the person asking the question was none other than Randy, the big, bearded lobster farmer from Elizabeth. I shouldn’t have been so surprised, seeing his mother, the Ma Kettle look-a-like, standing right next to him. A drooping cigarette hung from her mouth, a shotgun in one hand.

  “Maybe we should just hide. Try to escape . . . maybe up in the mountains,” Randy said. Several around him agreed, while most others vehemently shook their heads. More than a few said no.

  “Randy, we’re not running, and we’re not hiding any more. It’s too late for that. Let me tell you about a relatively small historical battle, a series of engagements known as the Hussite Wars. The crusade, launched against the Hussites, in Bohemia, by Pope ‘Oddo’ Martin V, was in July, in the year 1420. The pope’s crusading forces, four thousand knights, upon reaching the walls of Prague, mounted their attack at a key strategic location, called Vitkov Hill. No more than sixty local soldiers, with the help of a few lowly peasants, defended their position there . . . defended their homeland. They fought with unexpected, and extremely violent, resolve, driving the surprised knights back time after time. They eventually pushed the pope’s attacking knight forces off a steep cliff. Eventually, the few knights that survived panicked and fled. The most remarkable part of the Hussite victory was that a rebel army of sixty, plus a few peasants, secured their independence from the Church in Rome and its professional crusader army. As a history professor, I can tell you scores more of such stories. Of how the righteous and brave, though few in number, succeeded in victory in spite of the incredible odds against them. We should have fought harder two years ago. We can’t make that mistake again.”

  I found Titus in the crowd. “Titus . . . I’m glad you decided to attend this meeting. Before climbing into that big tank of yours, would you be willing to lead your own ground offensive . . . with the people here? Since it was you who invited most of them here, anyway?”

  Titus gave back a sheepish, half-smile. “I wasn’t about to stand around and watch my friends and neighbors get massacred. You’ve got something good happening here. It’s time we capitalize on that.”

  “So then the answer is yes?” I asked.

  “Yeah. We’ll coordinate our actions with yours whenever they start,” he said.

  I rallied my pilots and co-pilots together—including Matt and Donny, along with several who were part of the original Takebacks group. People were already gathering at the far end of the barn where Titus was organizing his ground forces offensive. Jhally, Karen, and I were ready to take the other pilots up in three of the Shredders—give a crash-course in flight training, although each pilot had already learned the basics. Over the next few hours they would get all the necessary hands-on experience needed in order to implement our still mostly undefined plan. I suddenly remembered I needed to speak with Mike Post. I was due an update on his and Marshal Grip’s latest hacking endeavors. I knew a Milonge Bi-Hull transport landing at the Oversight and Enforcement Center was scheduled sometime tomorrow before sunrise, but we still didn’t have the specifics. If Mike Post couldn’t get me that information, we were already in trouble.

  The three Shredders revving up made it hard to hear anything anyone was saying. Paired now with the commercial pilot, Wright, to continue his flight training in Shredder Five, I waited below by the wing for him to slowly get situated in the forward seat. I thought back to earlier that afternoon, when Jhally and I took a short flight around the Polk property. I was sitting in the forward pilot’s seat and Jhally sat in the seat behind me.

  Under his guidance, I continued to improve my flying techniques—getting pointers on what I was doing wrong, but also getting tips and tricks on how to better hone my flying capabilities within this amazing, but deadly, craft. Most importantly, Jhally showed me how to interact with the onboard AI, the primary interface to the navigations system, and also to the onboard weapons system. A good bit of time was learning to use the ear puck and virtual HUD. Mike Post had done a good job making the device compatible for Humans, but I wasn’t convinced all of the Earupitan to English translations were right on the money. I then realized why Jhally had waited so long before providing the weapon’s systems training. Even one mistake could be catastrophic. The gravity-disruptor cannons, one mounted aft on the bottom of the fuselage, and the other mounted forward, were deployed from hidden compartments once the AI system was verbally activated. While I practiced fast starboard turns, and port banking turns, and backward overhead barrel rolls, and so forth, Jhally was tweaking the onboard AI with Mike Post’s ear puck updates so that I, and the other pilots, could implement all necessary Shredder AI commands. From behind me, I heard Jhally say, “There, on your heads-up display we’re now seeing, via three dimensional telemetry, the landscape of your property below us.”

  Having been a fighter pilot for many years, I had no problem multitasking, both piloting the craft while diverting a segment of my mental focus to the HUD system. But the detail now showing was amazing—took every bit of willpower not to get too caught up in the distracting visuals.

  “That small wooden structure at the tree line, is that of importance to you?” Jhally asked.

  I saw on the HUD that the weapons system had already placed a tracking box onto the small log house that had its roof caved in. “No, it’s just an old hunter’s—”

  Before I could finish the sentence, Jhally orally issued a series of commands. Within moments, I watched through the canopy the old structure become completely decimated. No bright flashes of light—no ensuing fireballs—it was as if an invisible giant’s foot suddenly stomped down on the old timber structure and hammered it into the ground—leaving behind a ten-foot-deep crater.

  �
�Brian, the gravity-disruptor system was configured at its least destructive power setting. And only one of the two cannons was utilized. A very powerful weapons system, as you can see.” Jhally then said, “Now I will demonstrate how to evoke the twin, wing-mounted plasma guns. Do you have another such structure on your property?”

  I felt a hard tug on my arm bringing me back to the present moment. I turned and found Donny standing next to me.

  “What is it? I yelled above the noise.

  Donny said, “It’s Karen . . . she left in a hurry. Said she’d be back as soon as she could.”

  “What? Why? She knows how important this is!”

  “Someone told her that on their way here they noticed a raging fire at her place. Her house was already ablaze.”

  “Oh, no . . .”

  “One more thing, Brian . . . gun shots can be heard all over Castle Rock. I guess it’s started.”

  chapter 26

  It was after midnight when Jhally finally finished up with the other pilots, giving each one a scaled-down version of the same flight training I’d received over the last few days. But Karen’s absence was becoming more and more of a concern to me by the minute. Could we still implement our plan with four Shredders instead of five? Probably. But it was her welfare that concerned me, less that we’d have a piloted ship.

  Matt and Donny, having gone up multiple times as my rear seat co-pilots, had begun learning some of the more rudimentary aspects of flying a Shredder. The truth was, these vessels were incredibly intuitive and easy to fly. Given time, I was certain both would be able to pilot these alien crafts on their own. Taking a break from our multiple flight trainings, the three of us wandered over to the ground assault team’s location in the barn. Considering three to four hundred people were still gathered around, I was interested in learning what they had in the works, what was being planned.

  Pushing and weaving our way through the crowd, we found Titus holding court within a large open area. Standing, holding onto a long stick, he was using it as a pointer. A rough diagram had been drawn in the dirt. Rocks, along with various tools from my workshop, depicted primary geographic locations, and the major structures within Castle Rock and the surrounding area. I recognized some of the main thoroughfares, such as Lake Gulch Road and Plum Creek Road and Wilcox Avenue. I saw that the OEC building was appropriately depicted by Jhally’s old shit bucket. Titus was in the process of dividing the large group into smaller teams, assigning them to hold certain points. From what I could discern, after arriving late to the party, Titus was outlining classic guerrilla warfare tactics, using natural terrain and man-made structures as examples to instigate fast attacks and just as speedy withdrawals only to regroup again at new alternate locations. I was impressed. Beginning to feel somewhat guilty that I’d ignored the utilization of ground forces in our plans merely because of what had happened two years prior.