by Isaac Hooke
Bravo-3 carried Robert into the region of colder air. Because of the regulated environment of the suit, the only difference Robert noticed was that the crunch of Bravo-3’s metallic feet in the snow deepened slightly in pitch. When he was at the ten meter mark from the objects, the robot released him.
O’Rielly had moved to within five meters of the things.
“I said a maximum of ten meters, O’Rielly,” Robert said.
“Sorry sir.”
Before O’Rielly could retreat, Robert stepped forward and joined him. He hadn’t been able to tell the scale of the five cigar-shaped objects from the remote view of the HS4s, but standing there beside the things, he realized they were each the size of a man.
“So what are they?” Robert asked O’Rielly, who was holding a small scanning device retrieved from his utility belt. “Alien eggs of some kind?”
“My readings return a blank,” O’Rielly said. “The surfaces reflect my signals right back at me. I can’t tell if they’re inorganic or organic, rock or flesh.”
Robert noticed one of the balls of darkness hovering overhead, beside an HS4.
“Barrick,” Robert sent. “Do the aliens know what these are?”
Barrick didn’t answer right away. Either he was mentally addressing the aliens, or putting on a show of doing so.
“If they know, they won’t tell me,” Barrick responded a moment later.
“The Raakarr admitted to using the Vega 951 system as a breeding ground,” Robert sent the telepath. “We found evidence that the crashed Elder ship served that purpose, perhaps acting as a hatchery. Though we didn’t find any actual eggs, we detected gravimetric distortions similar to what these things are emitting. So now, no lies: can the Raakarr confirm or deny that these are eggs? Perhaps their own?”
Again Barrick paused. Then: “They say these are too big to be anything produced by their own species. I believe them. The Raakarr seem... stunned. That’s the best word for their current states of minds. Stunned. Uneasy. Anxious.”
There was something uncanny about those objects. Robert felt uneasy himself. He thought he saw the rightmost of them shudder slightly. He narrowed his eyes, staring at it, waiting for the thing to move again.
Images abruptly flashed through his mind. Of battles fought between human vessels and Raakarr. Of planet killers detonating. Of a future where intergalactic war would bring humanity to its knees.
“Sir?” someone said beside him.
Robert snapped out of his trance. Shaken, he glanced at O’Rielly. “Say again?”
Was the psychic shielding not working? Was Barrick attempting to influence his mind? Or had the source of those images truly been the cylindrical object, which potentially used a different psychic energy than the shielding was designed for?
O’Rielly spoke again. “I said, are you all right, sir? The chief was asking what you wanted to do.”
“I—”
The snow began to come alive to his right.
“Ambush!” a combat robot shouted over the comm.
The internal speakers of his helmet transmitted soft whooshing sounds from outside. Though Robert saw no incoming fire, beside him the torsos of the robots began to disintegrate in turn.
A Centurion threw itself at the commander, hurtling the two of them to the snow.
twenty-one
Sil watched in horror as the robots began to fall. She had Commander Cray’s point of view piped directly into her aReal, complete with HUD. She had set her own aReal to immersive mode, so it was like she was down there on the planet herself.
On the HUD, red marks began to appear beside the roster list, indicating which members of the platoon were out of action. So far, only robots had fallen. But it was only a matter of time...
Dad.
AS THE WHOOSHING sounds continued above him, Robert tried to burrow into the snow, but it proved only a light dusting over ice and rock there. The best he could do was to remain motionless on the ground and hope he blended in. Though if the attackers used thermal tracking, it wouldn’t matter anyway.
The robot lying on top of him had ceased functioning, and proved a deadweight. If it weren’t for the suit, Robert would have been crushed by the weight of the machine.
Not daring to move, he switched to the point-of-view of one of the HS4s hovering nearby. He found himself looking down on the site. The five dark mists of the Raakarr were obvious immediately. None of them had bothered to take cover. Were they the attackers?
He quickly searched for the survivors of his platoon. The individual members were difficult to make out, and he saw them only because the aReal outlined their positions in blue. Those Centurions that were still operational had dived for cover behind protrusions in the rock and ice. Rade had ducked into a crevice, and Aaron was situated in a similar hollow nearby. As for O’Rielly, the science officer was buried under a robot beside Robert.
There was no sign of Barrick; either he was dead or he had taken cover somewhere. Because he wasn’t part of Robert’s team, the aReal didn’t outline him.
“Fire at will!” the chief was saying over the comm. “Give ‘em everything you’ve got!”
The lasers fired silently, invisibly. But if the Raakarr were the targets, they weren’t going down.
Have they changed the modulation of their shields since our last encounter?
Of course they have.
Chief Galaal had warned of that very thing during the mission briefing.
“Our weapons aren’t doing a thing!” someone said.
He zoomed in on the chief, but his rifle wasn’t even facing the black mists. If they weren’t firing at the Raakarr, then who..?
Robert zoomed out again and tried to recall where the snow had come alive. He ran the camera over what he thought was the area, but he couldn’t be sure because he was slightly disoriented by the hovering viewpoint of the HS4.
There was nothing there.
“Frag out!”
The MOTHs threw grenades.
The subdued explosions caused the superheated snow to condense into mist, revealing the underlying rock.
Two figures immediately stood out in stark contrast to the darker surface.
“Didn’t even knock them down!” Aaron sent.
The figures were humanoid, hued yellow-white, standing with one arm each outstretched toward the dark mists that faced-off across from them. They didn’t seem to be paying attention to the humans, at least not anymore.
“Alpha-2!” Chief Galaal transmitted. “How about some air support!”
“Firing the Raptor’s surgical Cobras,” the combat robot responded. A moment later. “No effect.”
“Can we risk a Hellfire?” the chief asked.
“The platoon is too close to the targets,” the Centurion replied calmly. “There is a sixty percent casualty risk to those friendlies caught within the fragmentation zone, such as Commander Cray.”
“Damn it. Can we move him?”
“Not without drawing the attention of the tangos, sir,” the Centurion said.
Looking carefully, Robert picked out three other camouflaged humanoid figures standing there on the snow, for a total of five, matching the number of Raakarr. These three also had their arms extended, with humanlike, fingered palms directed toward the black mists.
The newcomers stood in a concave half-circle about six meters from the right side of the cylinders, and were spaced three meters apart. Their flat, circular faces were bereft of any features—like the combat robots. They probably were robots of some kind; that, or humanoid life forms wearing some sort of environmental suit or exoskeleton.
The humanoids alternately opened and closed the fingers of their palms, repeatedly forming fists. Those fingers were thick, as were the hands—they reminded Robert of gloves. The commander was beginning to lean toward the environmental suit theory.
The whooshing sounds coincided with the opening of those fists, and Robert guessed that was the sound of whatever invisible weapons the aggre
ssors launched, probably from the palms. Couldn’t be lasers, as those were noiseless.
Whatever the newcomers were firing, it didn’t appear to harm the Raakarr, who remained motionless, shielded behind their black mists. Nor did the Raakarr weapons harm the newcomers. It was an odd scene, with the five humanoids standing with their arms outstretched toward the black mists, and the latter remaining solitary before them. It was like watching someone playing a VR game, wielding some power that only he or she could see. Except what Robert witnessed was no game: he knew weapons fire was being exchanged between the two groups, probably constantly.
A Centurion, identified as Alpha-5 by the aReal, fired an incendiary weapon, sweeping the humanoids with jellied gasoline. The flames were powerful near the nozzle, thanks to the oxidant that was mixed with the combustive, but quickly became subdued as the substance traveled farther from the source. Robert noticed that the flames seemed to curve slightly toward the cylindrical objects near the center of the site, as if drawn to them.
The snow melted all around the humanoids, leaving behind only ice and jagged rock. But otherwise it had no effect: the five figures ignored the robot and remained standing as they caught fire, seemingly oblivious to the jellied gasoline that clung to them. The flames quickly burned low, thanks to the relatively paltry oxygen content of the atmosphere.
Finally one of the humanoids turned its palm toward the robot and formed a fist. The exposed upper body of the Centurion disintegrated.
That same humanoid pointed its flat palm toward the ground at another nearby target. From his vantage from the HS4’s POV, Robert at first didn’t realize the humanoid was directing his palm right at him.
In seconds, the robot that shielded the commander melted away. Robert felt the weight lighten on his suit.
The thick-fingered hand shut, but remained pointed at him. When it opened again, Robert would be disintegrated.
Abruptly the yellow-white torso of that humanoid attacker began to darken in the center. Had the low-burning jellied gasoline finally had an effect? The humanoid glanced down at its body. White mist began to vent from the scorched region, as if a pressurized internal environment had been breached. The humanoid promptly collapsed.
Robert exhaled in relief.
He stared at the body on the aReal display, and realized no other scorch marks had appeared. If that breach had indeed been caused by the jellied gasoline, then the attack wouldn’t have been concentrated on a single area like that.
It had to have been the Raakarr weapons finally having some effect on the enemy.
He was basically exposed without that combat robot on top of him, and he wondered if he should crawl to a different spot while the Raakarr held the attention of the attackers, and maybe take cover behind the five cigar-shaped objects.
But then one of the dark mists dropped, the rolling fog slamming to the snow with a loud thud. And then another mist toppled in the same manner.
The attackers must have adapted their weapons to the shields the Raakarr employed, just as the humans had adapted in the past.
The remaining three Raakarr immediately dove to the ground, taking cover behind various hollows and crevices, following the example of the human platoon.
Robert decided he was going to have to stay put after all. To move at the moment, even crawl, would only serve as a death sentence.
“I need some ideas, people,” he sent over the comm.
No one answered. It seemed they were out of ideas.
Dead out.
SIL HAD WATCHED the first few moments unfold in helpless horror. But then the detached commander in her had kicked into gear. As had the tactical officer, and the scientist.
She led the team responsible for studying the laser weapons affixed to the forelegs of the dead Raakarr aboard the Callaway. Her team hadn’t yet figured out how to activate the weapons, but she had spent several hours reviewing the alien’s captivity logs, concentrating on those times the creature had fired its weapon into the coated glass in an attempt to escape. The prisoner often changed the frequency of the modulated lasers in realtime as it fired: a useful ability when one needed to probe the defenses of a target.
For the current battle, when the tactician in her had taken over, she immediately contacted Captain Dallas and asked for permission to switch to the non-visual band on one of the watching HS4s. The captain approved—he was likely too distracted to disagree. As she had suspected they would do, the Raakarr were rotating through the different frequency bands of their lasers, trying to find one that inflicted damage against the attackers. When the aliens finally found one that worked and burned a hole into one of the humanoids, she immediately captured that modulating waveform and transferred it to her aReal. It had taken the successful frequency roughly five seconds to penetrate. If the Raakarr had combined their weapons and fired at the same spot, only one second would have been required. But perhaps the successful Raakarr hadn’t realized he had found the correct frequency until the damage appeared.
Unfortunately, the attackers got lucky shortly thereafter, and apparently found the specific frequency they needed to penetrate the Raakarr shields in turn, and then shot down the instigating alien. Or perhaps the attackers had merely been holding back until that moment; she noted they had only destroyed robots up until that point. But with one of their own number out of the game, the stakes had been raised.
It appeared the fallen Raakarr hadn’t transmitted the winning waveform to his brethren before death, because the surviving aliens, who had taken cover, were still using random frequencies.
The M114 rifles and M1170 heavy guns could match those frequencies if programmed properly, but the intensity was far lower than the Raakarr weaponry. Still, if the platoon combined its firepower...
She pulled up the waveform editor of the M114 and M1170 in turn, and with the help of the AI, put together a modulation program and tuned it to fit each weapon. When she was satisfied that the frequencies were close enough to the Raakarr output, she tapped in the captain.
“Chopra,” Captain Dallas said.
“I need you to tap me into Chief Galaal,” she said. “I’ve found the laser frequencies we can use to penetrate the armor of the attackers.”
“How?”
“I’ve studied the Raakarr weaponry,” Sil responded. “I’ve learned that they can modulate the laser frequencies they use in realtime. I’ve watched them do that very thing in the current battle, and I’ve got a recording of the specific waveform one of them used to breach the humanoid’s armor. That Raakarr is dead now, so it’s up to us. We can program the platoon’s weapons to fire at the same modulation. I want to transmit the program changes to the MOTH team leader.”
“Tapping in the chief,” Captain Dallas returned.
A moment later the connection indicator showed that Rade was conferenced in, audio-only.
“Chief Galaal,” Captain Dallas said. “Captain Chopra has found a way to help your team.”
Sil spoke up immediately, not wanting to waste precious seconds to the lag time necessary for her father’s response. “Chief, I have a frequency modulation program I’m sending your way.” She hit the transmit button. “Program it into a free frequency slot on your rifles. It’s the same modulation the fallen Raakarr used to penetrate the armor of the attackers. You’ll have to concentrate your fire platoon-wide on roughly the same spot in order to inflict any appreciable damage.”
“Got it,” came Rade’s delayed reply. “Thank you, Captain Chopra.”
Sil closed her eyes and exhaled. She’d done her part.
She just hoped it was enough.
twenty-two
Rade peered past the edge of the icy fissure he was using for cover and then retransmitted the code his daughter had sent him.
“I’m dispatching a modulation program,” Rade said over the comm. “Upload it to a free spot in your rifles immediately. Alpha-2, send the modulations to the Raptor as well. Let’s see what those Cobras can do.”
; “On it,” Alpha-2 returned.
Rade transferred the program into his own gun, placing it into slot three. Slot two was reserved for the modulations necessary to penetrate the alien darkness; he’d revert to that program if—or more likely, when—the Raakarr turned on them.
“When you’ve loaded the program,” Rade continued. “Set your rifles to follow mode. I’ll be the lead gun. Alpha-2, instruct the Raptor to fire on the same target as the lead gun. Same spot, if possible. Otherwise, anywhere will do.”
On the HUD of his faceplate, he watched as the rifle indicators beside each surviving member of the platoon became yellow in turn, indicating that follow mode was active. When every rifle was ready, he aimed past the edge of his hide. He pointed at the center of mass of the nearest humanoid, five meters away. While the other tangos remained in place, that one strode across the terrain, toward the dark mists. It had already terminated another Raakarr, leaving only two of the allied aliens. The attackers ignored the crouching members of the human party for the moment.
Rade waited for the yellow “following” rifles on his HUD to become green, which indicated that the exoskeletons and robots arms in the unit had brought every laser to bear on the exact same spot as the lead weapon.
Rade tracked the tango, keeping his sights on the torso, and when the last indicator turned green he squeezed the trigger and held it.
All of the laser rifles in the platoon fired at the same time. According to the aReal, the beam from the Raptor far above joined in, striking the exact same area. In seconds a hole had burned through that yellow-white armor. The inner atmosphere of the humanoid’s suit vented and the enemy toppled like a rag doll.
