by Nick Webb
The shaking had died down somewhat, but a sudden violent lurch nearly threw Isaacson off the hard bed. His stomach rose up into his throat and he started breathing heavily again. How any IDF soldier could stomach a space battle was beyond him. How long could Norton’s ship last against the battle raging outside?
“Tell me more, Eamon. That will keep your mind off of it. That was a pretty big one—Swarm will probably finish us off pretty soon anyway. Let’s both go out with clean consciouses.”
His hands shaking, his head reeling from the blood pressure, he tried to find words. Dammit, when it came down to it he was as bad as Conner on an airplane. “I … I … I had sex with your secretary once.”
She made another dismissive noise. “Oh, I new about that. I very nearly came in and joined the two of you. Next? Tell me more about Volodin. Have you spoken with Malakhov?”
The rumbling intensified and he searched for words. “Never talked with him. All my back and forth with the Russians was through Volodin. We got pretty close.” He paused, thinking. “You know, Barb, I think it’s the other way around. The Russians don’t control the Swarm. The Swarm controls the Russians. Volodin told me something very interesting. He said when they first met the Swarm in person, they required the Russians send several officers into their ship. A handful of them were … consumed, I think the word was. But the rest—well, he said they came out … changed.”
“What do you mean, changed?”
“He said they came out smarter. Better. Their minds were … faster, he said. It was like they could talk to one another over distances. He mentioned these men had risen through the ranks pretty quickly since then. For all I know they could be colonels by now, or commanders or whatever ranks the bastards use. I don’t know about you, but to me that sounds like the Swarm can influence a person. I mean, they are liquid—Volodin confirmed that for me. They’re a liquid-based life form. They apparently can enter a person and … who knows what they do. And now that I think about it, all their ships from seventy-five years ago were set up inside as if they were built for … well, bipedal people like us. Organisms with hands and feet. There were handles on the doors. Chairs. The works. Their ships would only require features like that if they occasionally had humanoid crews, right?”
Silence. “Makes sense,” she said, after a moment. “Is that all he said?”
A massive explosion ripped through the hallway outside, and Isaacson yelped. He slid off the bed, turned it over, and shoved it between him and the bars of the cell, half-expecting another fireball to erupt through the brig’s door and consume them both.
“Eamon, focus. Listen to my voice. We’re not dead yet. Focus. We’ll get out of this. You’re strong. I’m strong. Pull yourself together.”
Her steady, confident voice soothed his nerves a bit, even as the thrashing and shaking intensified further. Good god, how much more could the ship take before it ripped apart?
“Keep going, Eamon. Is that all he said? What else did Volodin tell you about the Swarm?”
“He … I … he … I—I can’t remember. Sorry, Barb. I just can’t focus on—”
Another explosion ripped through the hallway outside. The bright white light of the blast shone through the tiny space under the door.
“Wait,” he said. “I remember one more thing.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
“Total of one hundred and twelve Swarm carriers, sir,” said Diamond.
Granger swatted the commlink to Admiral Zingano. “Bill, what do you think?”
“They knew we were coming. And they must have infiltrated the anti-matter supply chain somehow. We’ve been had, Tim. They may very well have been intentionally steering you to this planet right at this time.”
Dammit. Zingano was right. He’d been compromised—he’d been Swarm. What in the world had made him think this was prudent?
He watched the viewscreen. The camera had shifted to the incoming fleets. They approached from all directions—a dozen carriers from about ten different vectors. Yeah, they definitely knew Granger was coming.
“Sorry, Admiral. Looks like Norton was right.”
“Tim,” said Zingano, “this is over two-thirds of our fleet. We’ve got to get out of here. If we lose here, we lose the war.”
It was two thirds of the fleet, yes. But it was also a huge chunk of the Swarm’s forces. They’d never have a chance like this again, especially on offense. “Bill, we’ve got to stay. This is exactly what we wanted, besides the flub with the anti-matter. We’ve got them here, away from our territory. We won’t have to be defending a planet and a civilian population while we fight. This is the best chance we’ll have in awhile to hit them and hit them hard.”
“I don’t know, Tim….”
Granger pounded the console. “Dammit, Bill, you asked me to come back to IDF and I did. You asked me to lead the fleets and I did. You asked me to repel invasion after invasion, and I did. I did it all. Gladly. You called me back into command after my experience with the Swarm because you thought I had some brilliant insight into Swarm behavior or innovative tactics or could be the hero you could hold up to inspire the men. Whatever. It’s all bullshit. I survived because I fought to survive. I clawed my way to victory three months ago. Me and the Old Bird. And now here we are. The odds are against us. But if we win, we’re one step closer to winning for good. Let’s claw our way to victory. One more time.”
Silence over the comm.
“Sir, two minutes before the nearest Swarm vessels arrive,” said Diamond.
Zingano swore. “All right, Tim. Let’s give ‘em hell. I’ll lead Task Force Granger One. Admiral Tabor can take Task Force Granger Two. You take Three. I’ll tell the missile frigates to get the hell out of here—they’re sitting ducks.”
Granger eyed his tactical readout. Eight hundred missile frigates still orbited the planet below, though they were rapidly pulling up to join the rest of the fleet. Each had around forty officers and crew aboard—just enough to run a medium-sized ship and launch its bombs and missiles.
“No. Keep them here.”
“Tim? They’re useless. Just another target to defend.”
“Exactly. Another target for the Swarm to focus on while we pound them. Plus,” he watched the screen as several of the closer Swarm carriers started disgorging hundreds of fighters. “Bill, we need to clog up their fighter bays. These frigates would be perfect for that.”
The brick-layer. He could tell Zingano hated the idea by the sound of his voice, but to his credit he only hesitated a moment. “Fine. I’ll send the orders to them. You focus on mobilizing your task force. Provide cover for the frigates on their approach. Zingano out.”
The comm fell silent, and he bolted to his feet, nodding toward Diaz.
“All hands, prepare for engagement. Mag rail and laser crews stand ready. Arm nukes. Redirect all auxiliary power to laser cap banks.” Diaz unleashed into a flurry of orders to the bridge crew while Granger opened up the comm link to the fighter bay.
“Commander Pierce. Launch all fighters. Patrol for singularities and target their fighters and weapons installations at will.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” came the reply over the speaker.
He turned back to the screen. His task force had reassembled, and they were almost in range of the nearest cluster of incoming Swarm carriers.
But there was something else. Before his eyes saw them, he felt them. The deckplate started quivering slightly, and he recognized the tremor of the imbalance of the spinning engines cause by the gravitational distortion of artificial singularities.
“Detecting twenty-one singularities in this cluster, sir.”
Damn. Commander Pierce had his work cut out for him.
Chapter Seventy-Four
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
Spacechamp’s fighter was spinning out of control, and Ballsy knew he had just moments to p
ick off every single one of the four enemy fighters tailing her before they finished her off.
“Punch your starboard thruster to max!” She was spinning counterclockwise—what he was telling her to do would make her spin faster and more chaotically and might even make her pass out. But it was her only hope to evade being hit before he could knock out the four bogeys. He pressed the trigger. Make that three bogeys.
“Got it,” she said, her speech slurred a bit as her spinning accelerated and she began looping in wild, random patterns. The g forces would knock her out any moment, but it was all he needed. He could order her fighter to right itself remotely. With three more quick bursts he dispatched the remaining fighters who had begun to swarm over her, trying to lock her down.
When it was over he saw her fighter begin to slow down and right itself. “Thanks, Ballsy. I owe you one.”
“Four,” he corrected. “But that pays you back for last week—we’re even now.”
The comm set lit up, interrupting their chatter. “All squads, interdict and terminate singularities. Reading twenty-one contacts. We’ve got our work cut out for us today, people. Warrior squadrons will handle singularities at twenty-one mark four, eighteen mark six, and fifteen mark twenty.”
Ballsy nodded. “Let’s go, Untouchables. We’ve got a singularity with our name on it. Fodder, you’ll deliver the package. Pew Pew, you’re up next if he gets a null impact. Move.”
He veered away from the Swarm carrier they were flying near, and angled toward the nearest singularity along with two other squads. Each would attempt to deliver an osmium brick simultaneously—as a redundancy, since the likelihood of a single fighter’s brick connecting with the singularity were less than fifty fifty. Though so far, the fighters from the Warrior had only had two slip through the cracks over the past few months.
“Spacechamp, you good?” He saw her craft struggle to maintain a straight course.
“Yeah, just working out the new calibrations on these thrusters—got hit pretty hard back there.”
Red flashing lit up his cabin as enemy bogeys came up from below, but he saw them just in time. Looping up, around, and down, he caught two in his strafing fire, and grinned as he saw Pew Pew pummel his way through three more.
They veered back onto their course, with Fodder still at point and Spacechamp tailing. Less than a kilometer to go—just a few seconds.
“Releasing package,” said Fodder. His brick shot away as he pulled up and veered right.
Out of nowhere a Swarm fighter slammed into the brick. The bogey exploded into a million pieces, barely scratching the brick, but the momentum transfer was enough to push it just out of the way of the singularity. Ballsy, with a groan, watched it sail past and clear.
He sighed and shook his head. “All right, Pew Pew, you’re up.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
The shaking of the cell intensified—soon, Isaacson’s teeth were chattering, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the shaking or from fear of imminent death.
“Volodin told me … he told me the singularities are not a Swarm technology.”
“They’re not?”
“No,” he whispered. “That’s one of the Swarm’s strengths. They force an exchange of technology with their new allies, he said. They gave the Russians better gravity field emitters, and in exchange, they gave quantum field technology to the Swarm. Somehow the Russians use them in their fusion cores to get better yield, but it looks like they’ve weaponized it with help from the Swarm. The singularities … they’re not Swarm. They’re Russian.”
From the other cell he heard Avery whisper a profanity. Then, she spoke. Her voice had changed. She didn’t sound vulnerable anymore.
She sounded angry.
“That will be all, General.”
And, as if at the touch of a button, the shaking stopped. He heard a clang from nearby, and realized the other cell had opened.
Footsteps.
Avery appeared in front of the bars of his cell. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth and her eyes were taut with a piercing glare.
She was holding a gun. Pointed straight at his head.
Chapter Seventy-Six
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
The Warrior shivered as devastating green beams ripped into her hull. A cloud of Swarm fighters enveloped her, nearly blocking out the view of the rest of the battle, which stretched out into the distance in every direction. Vast capital ships pounded each other while nimble fighters dodged and danced. Weapons fire of every kind blazed like a million crazed fireflies. Debris erupted from exploding ships and showered the vessels around them with their detritus: dead ship and dead men.
“Focus covering fire on the carrier at twelve mark two,” Granger called to tactical. “As soon as the Willow makes its omega run, shift fire to escort the Aspen into its target at twenty-eight mark five.”
Granger had seen over a dozen battles in the nearly three months since the invasion.
But none like this. The sheer scale was something that, if he’d been watching it on a theatre screen from the comfort of his retirement home in the Florida panhandle knowing it was a fiction drama, would have delighted him. Broken ships started blazing through the upper atmosphere, creating stunning, glowing tails like comets.
But this was not beautiful. This was death. All around him.
He glanced at the tactical readout. Thankfully, it was also death for the Swarm. They were taking a pounding as well, paying a heavy price for the ambush. Perhaps they hadn’t planned on so many IDF ships showing up. Either way, he was encouraged as he saw the count of active Swarm carriers tick down. Fifteen destroyed, five more disabled. And they’d only lost a tenth of their own fleet so far.
“The Aspen has destroyed the fighter bay of that carrier, sir. Redirecting fire to the other carrier.”
Granger nodded. He watched a shimmering singularity wink out as one of the osmium bricks hurled by a fighter connected with it. Where in the world are those things going? he wondered. If he came out on the other side of his journey above this very planet, where were all those things coming out?
Before he had a chance to wonder more, one of the larger singularities disappeared, and an instant later the Palisades, a heavy cruiser nearby, seemed to contract as if something were sucking it inward, then explode in a dazzlingly white blast. The shock wave hit the Warrior and the entire bridge lurched to starboard.
“Pierce!” He hit the comm with his fist. “We need fighter support on those singularities! We just lost the Palisades because of one!”
“Sorry, Captain. There’s too many of them. I had two squads assigned to the one that blew, but the Swarm fighters managed to catch them in a crossfire. Besides that, we’re running out of bricks, sir. Down to just twenty fighters with packages intact.”
“Keep at it, Mr. Pierce. If it comes down to it—if we run out of bricks—send fighters in. Granger out.”
Damn. They came up with the osmium brick strategy to avoid having to expend the lives of fighters on suicide runs. But if they ran out of bricks … well, sacrifices must be made. He remembered the very first fighter he’d ordered into a singularity. What was her name? Miller. Jessica Miller. How many more Millers would be required before the end?
He glanced at the tactical readout again. In spite of the loss of the Palisades and two dozen or so other cruisers, it was not a rout. In fact, if things continued the way they were, they’d not only win, but with up to half of their force still intact.
Some flickers on the viewscreen caught his eye. More ships.
“Captain—”
Before the sensor officer even said anything, Granger knew. He recognized that design. He’d spent ten years dreaming of the chance to smash a few dozen of them to pieces. And here they were, just like seventy-five years ago, coming right at the tail end of the fight. Right before total victory. Enough time for th
em to throw in a few token ships and claim they’d helped.
“—Russian ships, sir.”
He shook his head. The gall of those people. “How many?”
“Nearly three hundred, sir. Mostly heavy cruisers. A few super carriers.”
“Fine. Let’s see what kind of punch these bastards have. Send a message to their flagship with instructions to form up with—”
The sentence hung on his lips. On the screen, he saw something unthinkable. His hopes shattered.
Several Russian ships in the advance guard opened fire on the Nottingham, a heavy cruiser in Granger’s task force. Captain Barnes’s ship. More advancing Russian ships joined in. Within ten seconds, the Nottingham broke in half, spewing wreckage into space as the newcomers blazed past and bore down on the rest of his task force.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
New Dublin, Eyre Sector
Bridge, ISS Warrior
Volz watched in dismay as the singularity disappeared, reappearing seconds later, he supposed, at the center of the heavy cruiser nearby, the Palisades. It contracted for a moment before exploding in a dazzling blast. He veered away at the last second: even so, the debris from the blast showered his fighter, causing alarms to go off as several small holes ripped open in his hull.
“Sorry, Ballsy. I … I couldn’t shake these fighters….”
Pew Pew’s voice was solemn. He’d tried to launch his osmium brick, but a throng of enemy craft had enveloped him—far too many for Ballsy and Spacechamp to knock loose. His voice sounded as if he was blaming himself for the deaths of the thousand souls on the Palisades.
“Not your fault, buddy. Come on, we’ve got one more singularity to plug.”
His three squadmates collected into a tight diamond formation as they soared toward the remaining miniature black hole, shimmering as the surrounding rarified molecules, dust, and debris swirled in a tight vortex, casting off intense x-rays, ultraviolet rays, and of course, blinding white light. He blinked, and shadows from the light’s memory seemed etched into his retinas. He wanted to believe Captain Granger, that this was it. This could very well be the final time he’d have to face down one of these monstrosities.
