The Hidden Ship

by Mark Wayne McGinnis

  I retrieved the mistmaker from the floor by my feet and tucked it back into my waistband. “How much do the other marshals know about what’s going on here . . . with the military ground forces, and all?” I asked Stroph.

  “Word has spread of his High Eminence’s backstabbing deceit. He has dishonored those within all EMS stations. There is much uncertainty amongst all of us.” Stroph said, gesturing toward his ear puck device levitating over his right ear. “But we communicate with each other . . . all around your Human world we speak of our uncertain fate. We speak of two Earth EMS stations that no longer respond to our queries.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re maybe in the same boat as Humans,” Matt said.

  “I know not of any boat,” Stroph replied.

  “It’s just an expression meaning your marshals may be facing the same fate now as Humans, unless you join with us,” I said.

  “I am here, am I not? That does not mean I have to like it. The chancellor has chosen to trust you. He is honorable.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “You know where we’re going . . . our intended destination?”

  “No. You must further direct me,” he said.

  The sound of distant gunshots crackled in the distant night. I was pretty sure the Gap ground forces would find Colorado’s Humans far better armed than they expected. Only a few of us turned in our weapons as required, and few here would go down without a fight.

  Stroph was piloting the HovT a hundred feet above the ground at this point. Out the side windows, we could see flashes from energy weapons as well as from human-fired pistols and rifles. I recognized the sound of automatic gunfire, maybe from an M16, or a newer version of that, like the M4A1 carbine—issued to the U.S. Army before the alien invasion.

  “You need to change your heading a bit,” Matt said, from the rear seat. His hand slid between Stroph and me, pointing toward where his and Karen’s parents’ ranch was situated, several miles to the northeast.

  Stroph’s ear puck made a noise. The Gap initiated the HUD and looked to be reading what looked to be some kind of alien text message. He turned to me: “It is from the chancellor. The Human you call Titus, along with his Human cohorts, are not far behind us . . . in another of the HovTs.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  Stroph, glancing at his HUD, asked, “I do not understand . . . what is an M1?”

  Donny grasped my shoulder, then said, “Titus and his crew are getting a ride back to his place. Time to get old Betty up and running.”

  The alien still looked mystified.

  “An M1 is a tank . . . an armored ground assault vehicle,” Donny said. “And let me tell you, you wouldn’t want to be targeted by that old bitch.”

  Matt tapped Stroph’s shoulder, but only getting a sneer in response, said, “You’ll want to descend. We’re getting close.”

  Right then we all spotted the dome structure. Ominous, it loomed high over anything in the vicinity. I figured it was roughly the size of a small athletic stadium. It seemed to be glowing from within.

  “Find a place where we can hide this vehicle, Stroph. There’s a dense wooded area off to the right,” I said, pointing into the near-total darkness ahead.

  By the time we landed, just inside the tree line of tall pines, sounds of gunfire could be heard from all directions now. I listened to the all too familiar sound of war.

  We swiftly exited the vehicle then waited as Stroph moved to the rear of the HovT and opened a recessed hatch panel. He retrieved a rifle, but not like any rifle I’d ever seen before. One by one, he handed each of us one, keeping one for himself. Studying the weapon, I found it somewhat similar to the handheld, mistmaker weapon.

  “Um, is there a trick to firing one of these things?” Matt asked.

  “Point it and pull the damn trigger, Matt . . .” Donny said.

  Stroph nodded, keeping to his typical economy of voicelessness.

  Suddenly, a large spacecraft appeared overhead, barely missing the tops of the trees. Stroph said, “That is an XL5 . . . the largest of the Crusher lander vessels . . . used for deployment of large ground forces.”

  We watched as the long XL5 moved past overhead, headed in the direction of the dome. “Let’s go! We’ll check out Matt’s parents’ place first. It’s less than a click from here,” I said.

  “Or what’s left of it.” Matt said, running fingers through his thinning hair. He looked nervous and defeated.

  “Keep the faith, brother,” Donny said.

  I led the four of us deeper into the trees. Before long, acrid smoke stifled the air around us. Using the crook of my elbow, I covered my nose and mouth. When we eventually broke out through the trees, Matt rushed ahead.

  “Oh God . . . the place is gone. They fucking torched everything!”

  Matt was right. The main house, once a pristine white, two-story colonial, with dark green shutters on the windows and a bright red door, was gone. A beautiful home—built at the turn of the previous century—was now little more than blackened fallen timbers and glowing embers. Two chimneys loomed up out of the charred mess looking lonely in a way at suddenly being untethered to anything substantial.

  I approached Matt, who was bent over, his hands on his knees. Placing a hand on his back, I felt him weeping. “At least your parents and Gwen weren’t here,” I said, knowing Karen had sent her parents and Gwen out of state—off somewhere in Utah. “But we still have to find Karen. We need to keep it together, we have to go.” I looked off toward what used to be the barn. The horses and other livestock were all surely dead.

  Matt sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “There’ll be a payback for this, Brian. I swear to you . . . I’m going to kill every last one of them. And keep that fucking Gap giant away from me.”

  Together, we headed toward the distant glow of the large dome.

  chapter 29

  I took another glance at the burnt-out structures before heading out with the others of our team. Why torch this old ranch? I wondered. It certainly wasn’t a common practice for Gap invaders to do something like that. At least, it hadn’t been up until now.

  Another three of the shorter Mini Crusher vessels flew right above us—seeming close enough to reach up and touch. I wondered if it was due to a higher level of Human resistance that caused the Gaps to engage additional troops. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on my part.

  We were little more than four darkened shapes, out traversing the hilly landscape in the dead of night. I noted Stroph, the largest of us, moved with surprising agility, even grace, as he melded within our little group. I wondered if he really was onboard with our mission, one of us, or, in the end, if he would choose to stay loyal to his own kind. Even knowing he’d been betrayed—by the Earupitan leadership—in any case I knew I’d have to keep an eye on him. I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him again, if necessary.

  It was close to a mile-and-a-half hike before we reached the outskirts of what was the invading ground forces encampment. Staying low, we were on a rise that overlooked the entire Earupitan garrison. With the immense dome in the distance, there were four Crusher vessels and no less than ten of those open-air disk transports below us. Armed troops were assembling into companies, one hundred and fifty Gap soldiers in each. One of the companies was funneling onto one of the flying disks—readying to head off into the night.

  “Get down!” Donny whispered.

  A flying disk, no less than thirty yards away, descended down just to our right. This transport wasn’t filled with Gap soldiers, but instead was tightly packed with humans—captives. I heard their heart-wrenching moans of despair—pleading by both men and women, and the cries of their children. In the darkness, I could barely make out that some wore an assortment of pajama, underwear, or nothing at all.

  We watched as the flying disk continued past the encampment and then the dome, setting
down somewhere on the other side. I squinted into the darkness and realized that what I assumed were only more of the same rolling hills beyond, like those we were standing upon, were not. Hills don’t move and fluctuate. There were people moving around out there, perhaps hundreds of them.

  “Let’s go . . . stay down. Keep to the tree line,” I said. But before we could take a single step, the dome came alive, brightened by a factor of five. A throbbing, humming sound emanated from its core. Vibrations disrupted the ground beneath our feet. The encampment below then became illuminated—soldiers, too many to count, became stationary in their tracks. Every head turned toward the not-so-distant vaulted structure. I watched, stunned, unable to breath. How many of my Human neighbors had just been killed? Annihilated, nary a trace left behind? I felt sick, swallowing the reality of what I had just witnessed.

  The dome again stilled and darkness returned. It was Stroph who spoke first. “I am sorry. This is not right”

  His words were of no comfort. “Hurry,” I said. “Who knows how often they’ll get that dome thing turned on.”

  We all ran full out. I tried not to let my imagination get the best of me. Tried not to think of Karen, if she were amongst the group that had just been exterminated.

  Skirting around the other side of the dome, we found multiple containment pens set up. Fifty yards out, crouching now behind a thicket of scrub oak, we took in the ominous sight.

  “Fuck . . . there must be hundreds of people over there!” Donny said.

  “Yeah . . . with no fewer than fifty armed sentinels,” Matt added.

  It was hard to think around the noise, the cries of anguish and desperation. But I knew only by maintaining a certain level of detachment would I be able to come up with a plan. One that had eluded me thus far. I took in the huddled-together groups. They were being isolated into electrified, energy field pens. Every so often, a flurry of sparks would brightly flash along the outskirts, quickly followed by someone’s pain-stricken screams.

  “Oh, no . . . another group is being ushered into the dome,” Matt said, pointing to an arched opening on one side of the domed structure. Gap soldiers were jabbing the muzzles of their rifles into anyone moving too slowly—or physically dragging other prisoners forward into the death chamber. They, of course, would know they were being led to an inevitable death.

  “We must act,” Stroph said.

  “You think?” Donny snapped back.

  “Shush! Let me think . . .” I said. In irritated desperation, my eyes tracked the ever-watchful sentries constantly patrolling the outer perimeter of the pens. Already, half of the next hostage group had been shoved and manhandled into the dome. Shit! My eyes scanned the darkened faces—the hordes of panicky people—I was both hoping, yet not hoping, to see Karen. I was thankful it was too dark to see any one person’s features. And then my eyes spied something, scanning the crowd one more time—not someone’s specific facial features, or a unique profile, but a T-shirt with its sleeves ripped off at the shoulders. And long dark hair, bunched together and tied down her back in a scrunchie. I knew it was Karen. Relieved she was still alive, but that her group would be next. If the Gaps were keeping to a rigid schedule, she maybe had fifteen minutes before her group would forcibly be ushered inside the dome.

  “What we need is some kind of a diversion . . . ,” I said.

  Before anyone could answer me back, I heard a familiar noise. It was Stroph’s ear puck. The giant lizard looked at me.

  “Answer the damn thing,” I said in a hushed voice.

  He did so, bringing up the HUD as he read the message. Stroph then looked at me. “It is Marshal Drake. He is with the one called Titus . . . he says they are close now to approaching the dome.”

  Leaning over, I tried to make out the faint HUD display. It was reversed, since I was reading it from a reversed viewing angle, but even so, it only contained a gibberish stream of weird icons and symbols. I shook my head in frustration. How could he be here so soon—and what happened to his plan getting that tank of his fired up? “Well, if he’s arriving here in a HovT, with just rifles and pistols—”

  “Shhh!” Matt said. “Listen . . . do you hear that?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t hear anything but a baby crying in the distance. And then I did hear something. I remembered Titus’s ranch was no more than a half click from here. I listened and smiled; there was nothing alien about that sound. It was the low rumbling of a Honeywell AGT1500 powerplant. Fifteen hundred pounds of raw horsepower, with close to four thousand pounds of peak-level torque, the Abrams M1 tank has a very unique sound profile. And in that moment, the loud rumbling noise it made was most welcome to my ears. But with Titus’s team soon to arrive, who was left in charge back at my barn? I thought about Titus’s ground assault diagram, scribbled into the dirt. Had he deployed those various teams he’d organized for guerrilla warfare tactics? I had far more questions than I had answers for. I knew Jhally would still be readying the other pilots with Shredder training. Did that leave Chancellor Sleept Vogthner in charge? Hell, for two years he’d been considered the enemy—maybe the worst of the worst of the Gaps. There was the strong possibility I would find him swinging by his ankles back in my barn when I returned.

  “Tell him to be careful of the area directly north of the dome where the Human prisoners are being held. And tell him to have that big gun of his start making some damn noise,” I said.

  As Stroph tap-tapped away on his device, an open-air troop carrier set down with another batch of terrified-looking Humans onboard.

  chapter 30

  Sorry to disturb you, sir . . . we have an emergency situation taking place.”

  General Gauz Za Chiv did not appreciate being awakened in the dead of night. Wasn’t that why senior officers had subordinates, to handle this kind of minutia?

  “Fine. Give me a minute . . . and this better be important, Corporal,” Chiv said to the indeterminate speaker over his comms, hidden somewhere within his cabin. Swallowing, he grimaced—from dry throat and cottonmouth.

  Three minutes later, still securing the collar fastener on his uniform, he entered the XL5’s elevator and waited for the AI to hurry up and acknowledge his presence within the confines of the enclosed lift.

  Finally, the AI asked, “Desired destination level, General?”

  “One . . . and let’s move it along.”

  “Destination level one acknowledged.”

  Chiv rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn, as the elevator began its rapid descent. Then, somewhere off in the distance, he heard: Boom! Boom! Boom!

  By the time Chiv scurried down the gangway, it seemed as if all hell had broken loose. He ducked, cowering, as exploding ordinances rained down within the fortification and on top of his garrison. Troops were now breaking loose from their ranks and firing off into the trees. He spotted a nearby sergeant, yelling commands into his comms unit: “Bring back that troop carrier, we’re under attack!”

  Chiv grabbed him by the arm. “What the hell is happening? Who is attacking us?!”

  “General, sir . . . it’s the Humans . . . an armored vehicle is firing upon us. And there’s sporadic plasma fire coming from those trees surrounding us!”

  “Attack . . . that’s not possible! What kind of vehicle did you say—”

  Just then, a behemoth armored tank—with squealing treads and a thundering motor—broke free of the nearby tree line and headed directly toward them. Chiv could see a gray-haired man, partially exposed, sitting within the turret. Projectile gunfire suddenly erupted out—mowing down seven of the nearest Earupitan soldiers. Chiv dove, crawled for cover behind the inactive, forty-foot-tall assembly bot’s left foot. On seeing the sergeant join him in his hiding place, Chiv yelled, “Get me an open channel with command!”

  Chiv continued to watch as the clunky armored vehicle performed wide circles within the encampment, firing a mounted machi
ne gun at will, and running over anything—and anyone—in its way. Now, holding the sergeant’s comms unit to his own ear, Chiv said, “Yes . . . we’re under attack! No, I don’t know how this could happen but we need air support! We need Shredders, and we need them now!”

  Hunkering down lower as projectile rounds dinged and pinged nearby, Chiv listened to the far too drawn out explanation. He wanted to argue with his superior above—there in Earth’s upper orbit, in the Situational Command Ship Alcon, that things below were now out of control. But he held his tongue and instead said, “I understand, sir. Yes, of course, we will triumph.” Signing off, he shoved the comms unit back into the sergeant’s chest.

  “No Shredders, sir?”

  “No . . . no more damage can be made to Earth’s infrastructure. Apparently, the evacuation of Gahl has been expedited. Deteriorating atmosphere, or some other fucking thing. The whole population is heading here en masse. Dwellings . . . all structures, are to be preserved at any cost. With that said, we’re to eradicate all Humans here immediately, without fail.”

  Chiv found the ground troops, having recovered somewhat from the surprise attack, had begun to reassemble again into an organized force. Two of the smaller nearby Mini Crusher landers directed plasma fire down onto the tank. Glowing red pockmarks cratered the vehicle’s surface. As soon as more of the Lander’s big guns came online, Chiv had little doubt this skirmish would soon be over.

  An inbound open-air troop carrier came into view and hovered, then began to descend. Good, more troops to fortify my ranks, Chiv thought, rising to his feet and brushing himself off. But no sooner had he done that, gunfire from the open air carrier began to pepper down from above. Somehow, armed Humans had managed to abscond with his Earupitan vessel. And that archaic armored tread vehicle was still causing havoc around him.

  “Sergeant, get this assembly bot activated . . . turn it loose on that tank!”

  But then, doing a double-take, General Gauz Za Chiv witnessed the impossible. He’d personally seen the chancellor die. Or did I? he wondered. As the troop carrier settled onto the ground, and hordes of Humans disembarked—firing their primitive weapons—there, in the midst of them was none other than Sleept Vogthner, the local chancellor of communications. The two made eye contact. Chiv abruptly shoved two of his nearby ground troop soldiers toward the now approaching, determined-looking chancellor. “Get out there . . . protect your superior,” he ordered.