by Dean M. Cole
A rumble passed through the ship. He braced for the end, but it still didn't come. Confused, he looked around the bridge.
Then, a voice echoed through the room, You're not worthy.
Seeking the source of the rebuke, Salyth's head whipped side to side. Locking eyes with the lifeless partially decapitated weapons officer, he roared, "What did you say, coward?"
No answer.
"That's what I thought," Salyth said, turning to the tactical display. On its screen, he watched another pair of fighters unleash a volley of shots. "They're firing projectile weapons?" The realization sent him into stunned silence. After a moment, he burst into a fit of gurgling laughter that morphed into gore-spewing coughs.
Spitting blood at the officer's body, he taunted, "They're out of nuclear missiles. The Forebearers have more work for me."
Searching space, he found a target. Tumbling pilotlessly, the closest Galactic Defense Force's Phoenix Fighter begged for his attention. Activating his starboard weapon, Salyth fired an energy beam at the drifting ship. After several seconds, it exploded.
More gurgling laughter and coughing echoed through the bridge.
The dead officer's voice still taunted. Coooommodoooore…
Salyth tried to ignore it. He knew that, when subjected to extreme trauma, Zox often succumbed to psychosis.
Coooommodoooore…
He slowly turned to the weapons officer's lifeless eyes.
You lost an entire fleet, Coooommodoooore! Lord Thrakst will curse you!
Salyth, eyes burning bright with insanity's cold fire, turned on the dead officer. "Coward! I don't need your insolence!" He kicked the corpse again. The vicious blow finished the decapitation, sending the severed screaming head rolling across the bridge.
You killed… Clunk-clunk. …us all! Clunk-clunk.
He watched wordlessly as the head wound to a slow spinning stop in the middle of the floor. Finally grinding to a halt, its accusing glazed-white eyes burned through him.
"I wiped out the Argonians!" Salyth roared defensively.
The dead officer stared through him.
Dragging his eyes away, he fired at another drifting ship. As it exploded, Salyth turned to the drive system's status board. "If these feeble Humans can't send me to the Forebearers, maybe I can send a few more cities to theirs."
As sardonic laughter echoed through the bridge, Salyth cast a wary glance at the disembodied head.
***
"Bravo Wing, concentrate your fire on the upper bridge section. I see light coming from that area. See if you can punch through. Maybe we can open it to space. In the meantime, my fighters will go after those lasers."
"Roger," Commander Yaakov replied.
Turning to his wing's frequency, Colonel Newcastle continued. "Alpha Wing, our first pass was ineffectual. We need to defang this ship." As the toothy alien visage passed under his fighter, he winced at the incidental pun. His ship juked as another enemy laser reached for it. "He can't hit us, but we need to take out that laser battery before they start taking potshots at the unmanned fleet. Follow me to the initialization point. When we roll in from the IP, I want all conventional weapons brought to bear."
The damaged ship had two remaining laser batteries, one tucked into a fold on each side of the alien bust.
"We'll attack the left one first," he said as they turned inbound from the IP. "Fire, fire, fire!"
He opened up with the fighter's thirty millimeter cannon. Firing a Maverick missile designed for use in the vacuum of space, he watched as the munitions closed on the target. Thousands of depleted uranium rounds peppered the side of the ship. They spalled small pieces of asteroid, but none made it into the laser emitter's fold.
"What the hell?"
His missile, followed by those of his wingmen, slammed into a small invisible forcefield. Striking a bubble of shielding that only protected the laser, they detonated above the target in a haunting miniature replay of the first futile attacks on the enemy fleet.
Colonel Newcastle growled in frustration. It's like shooting a BB gun at an elephant.
A laser beam shot past his vessel. Snap rolling the fighter, he realized it wasn't aimed at him. He turned his ship in time to see the intended target, an Argonian ship, detonate in a brilliant flash.
"I hate it when I'm right."
***
Because the aft section of the enemy ship-remnant had received the heaviest damage, Jake reasoned it would have the biggest blind spot. While he steered to a vector that would bring them in from its rear, two beams reached for their ship, each time its self-defense system instantly yanked it out of the laser's path. Now heading straight at its rear, Jake applied maximum acceleration. The Turtle closed the hundred-mile gap in less than a minute. No additional lasers fired at them.
Closing to within a few miles, Jake watched as First Space Fighter Squadron's attacks proved ineffectual. Small explosions wrapped around the enemy ship's upper bridge, but as Bravo Wing zipped past, their wake revealed it as undamaged.
Richard shook his head in frustration. "Shit! That section has the same secondary forcefield. They can't hit the lasers or the bridge."
Jake nodded, frowning. "They're tearing up the areas they can hit, but the ship is just too big. They'll deploy their gene disruptor before we can make a dent in it."
A laser beam blasted another empty Argonian fighter.
Jake shook his head. "Damn it!"
Victor still looked nervous. "We can just fallback when the recharge time ends. Let them fire the weapon. We'll stay out of its range, nobody'll get hurt. Newcastle won't even have to fire the nukes. Then, we can find another way to stop them. Hell, maybe we can get some assistance from the surface."
Richard spun on Victor. "Come on, Lieutenant Croft, think! If we fallback, they'll continue picking off the Argonian fleet, one ship at a time."
"We'll just move back in as soon as they fire the weapon."
Jake spoke up. "Vic, they won't fire. They'll hold us off with the threat of it. All, while continuing their destruction of the Argonian ships."
"So?"
Jake took a calming breath, then pointed at the enemy ship. "Vic, do you think that's the last Zoxyth dreadnought in the galaxy?"
Lieutenant Croft froze in shocked silence.
"If any more of them show up and find this, they'll wipe us out." Jake gestured at the vacant fleet. "We may need those ships."
Vic's face brightened. "But, more Argonians will come."
"Maybe, maybe, but we can't count on that. Playing devil's advocate, if I was launching an ambush against an enemy force of that size," Jake said, pointing at the empty Argonian fleet. "You can bet your ass, I'd find a way to tie up their backup forces. At any rate, there's too much at stake to assume reinforcements will show. What if that thing heads for another city."
"I thought you said…" Victor paused, then shook his head. A myriad of emotions flooded the young lieutenant's face. He looked down. "You're right."
Another Argonian fighter blew up.
After giving Richard a meaningful glance, Jake looked at the enemy ship. The lieutenant was right to be scared. Hell, Jake was scared shitless, himself. He knew they probably wouldn't make it out of this. Shifting his gaze to the beautiful blue panorama below the swarm of ghost ships, he said, "A lot of people might be counting on us."
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Looking like a true asteroid, the dark, cratered back of the sculpted alien head filled most of the Turtle's view-wall, leaving a thin margin of stars at its periphery.
Victor scanned the nearing enemy ship with mounting horror. A shiver ran down his spine. He looked at the floor, shaking his head. When he looked up, Captain Giard was giving him that same appraising stare. Vic tried to smile. "I'm okay."
Jake nodded and turned his attention back outside.
Chiming in, his mother's ever-present voice berated him. They know you're a fraud. It's beyond me why you had to run off and join the Air Force. I told you�
��
"Shut up, mother," he muttered.
Captain Allison's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowed. "What was that, Lieutenant?"
"N-nothing," Vic stuttered.
After glaring at him for another second, the captain turned forward again, shaking his head.
Captain Allison always seemed to see straight through him.
Of course, he does. Everybody can see what a wussy I raised. You're such a waste of—
"Let's hold here," Captain Giard said. He turned from the view-wall. "It's time to get dressed."
Victor looked up. "What?"
Shaking his head, Jake walked toward the center of the ship. "Captain Allison, watch the helm for a moment. Lieutenant Croft, I don't have time to play twenty-questions with you." Stepping into the circle, he rose to the second floor.
Victor broke his paralysis and followed.
Reaching the upper level, Captain Giard disappeared through the opening.
After a hesitant step into the lift's circle, Victor flinched as it gripped his lower legs and hoisted him toward the ceiling, depositing him next to the captain. He watched Jake activate the spacesuit section of the center pedestal. Like a rewinding time-lapsed video of a melting ice sculpture, the spacesuit lockers grew back out of the floor.
"Captain Allison didn't show us how these work," Vic complained shakily.
From below, Richard yelled, "You'll need to take off all of your clothes."
Jake shrugged. "There you go."
Victor froze, stealing a self-conscious look at his flightsuit. That's right little boy, his mother chided. Time to show everybody your shriveled hairless balls.
"Shut up, Momma!" Vic said, subvocalizing this time.
Disrobing, Jake said, "Richard, tell me if I get this wrong."
"I'm all ears."
"Everything on this ship has been very intuitive, almost idiot proof."
It ain't Victor-proof, his mother said through a sardonic laugh.
Captain Giard continued. "I can't imagine these'll be any different." Naked, Jake approached the closest locker. Each was big enough to hold a large man. When he touched the front of the cabinet, its face dissolved, generating the now familiar white noise.
Looking over the captain's shoulder, Victor looked through the man-sized opening. The interior looked like a locker with a glowing ceiling and a floor featuring two flashing footprints.
Speaking loud enough for Richard to hear, Jake said, "Looks like I just stand in the footprints. I'll bet a dollar to a doughnut it'll take care of the rest."
"That's right," Richard shouted. "But, I should warn you, it can be a little … unnerving, but there's no pain, and it only takes a couple of seconds."
Turning back to Vic, Jake smiled. "See, can o' corn."
Victor nodded, trying to look confident, knowing he failed.
Captain Giard gave him a hard look. "Are you going to be all right, Lieutenant?"
Victor raised a thumb. "I'm fine."
Liar. Jesus, what a pussy. Unnerving, ha. My little boy is going to piss himself as soon as those little machines start crawling across his skin.
Jake stepped into the machine. Turning to face Victor, he stepped on the glowing icons and winked. Then, the sound of static filled his ears and the locker's opening turned solid, sealing the captain within its coffin-like confines.
A few seconds later, he stepped out, clad neck to toe in a flexing metallic skin. "What the hell?" Vic said. "That looks more like tights than a spacesuit. There's no room for air."
Captain Allison's disembodied voice drifted through the opening in the floor. "The suit uses mechanical compression instead of air pressure."
After a moment's consideration, Vic nodded warily. He pointed at the captain's neck. "There's a ring at the top. Looks like a base for a helmet." Looking over Jake's shoulder, he scanned the locker's interior. "But, I don't see one."
"I'm sure it'll be there when I need it," Jake said. He gestured to the adjacent cabinet. "Next."
With a reluctant nod, Victor finished undressing. Self-consciously covering his privates, he stepped through the opening. Turning around, he placed both feet in the outlined area. He gave Captain Giard another shaky thumbs-up. White noise shredded the air and metal filled the opening, sealing him in the locker.
Vic held his breath. After a two-second pause, his heart leapt as a film peeled away from the inner wall. Seeking his unprotected naked skin with snake-like undulations, it billowed across the intervening open space. Victor began hyperventilating as the nanobots slithered across his body with a creepy tingling sensation, only ceasing its flowing undulations once it had fully encapsulated his entire body in its constricting grip.
Swallowing hard, he stifled a scream. The wall dissolved. Outside Jake gave him a concerned look. Vic smiled weakly. "Unnerving, my ass," he said as he stepped from the locker.
Jake patted him on the shoulder and chuckled. "I hear you. Thank god it didn't cover my face. I probably would've lost my shit."
Vic looked at his right arm, flexing it, he was surprised what little resistance the suit provided. Starting to relax, he realized the pressure against his skin felt similar to what he'd experienced wearing a drysuit during immersion survival training. He felt it firmly supporting everything below the neckline. Flexing his fingers, he studied its milky metallic skin. Like elastic armor, it perfectly conformed to his hand.
Captain Giard inspected Victor's neck ring. "Looks like it's made from the same material as the rest of the suit." Vic studied Jake's. It tilted forward and was thicker in the back than in the front.
The captain pointed through the opening in the floor. "Let's head back down." He stepped over the hole, and the gravity field lowered him to the flight deck.
Vic looked at his discarded flightsuit. Puddled around his combat boots, it reminded him of the multitude of emptied garments decorating the Pentagon. A shiver ran down his spine again. Dragging his eyes from the disquieting mnemonic, he stepped to the opening. As the lift lowered him, his mother broke her momentary silence, her vitriol floating down through the hole in the ceiling.
Pussy!
***
"Jesus!" Jake said, seeing Richard.
"Hey, it's called efficient time management." Already naked, he stepped from behind the control panel and jogged to the lift. "I'll be right back."
Jake shook his head. "There's some shit you can't un-see."
Vic's nervous chuckle dwindled to a withering sigh as he looked outside.
In less than a minute, Richard returned. "Ready." He took a sip from a small tube extending from inside his neck ring.
"What's that?" Jake asked. Exploring the inside of his suit's collar, he found an identical line.
"It's a drinking tube."
Nodding, Jake started pulling weapons from the rack, handing each of his wingmen a pistol and a shotgun.
"Where does the water come from?" Vic asked. Pulling out his own tube, he placed it in his mouth.
Jake removed the last weapon, and the rack melted back into the floor.
"It comes from you," Richard said.
Taking his pistol and shotgun, Vic spit out his straw. "What?"
Richard shot him an annoyed glance. Impatiently, he said, "These suits are like miniature processing plants. They take everything your body excretes—and I mean everything—and process it, breaking down the solids and separating the water. The liquid flows through capillaries in the suit's skin." Pausing, Richard took several long draws from the straw. After an exaggeratedly refreshed sigh, he said, "It provides temperature control and doubles as a potable water supply."
"How did you already get enough for a drink?" Vic asked.
Captain Allison shrugged. "Well, when you gotta go, you gotta go."
Jake shook his head.
After making a sour face Victor looked down at his smooth suit. Holding up his pistol, he asked, "Where do I put this?"
"You don't want me to tell you where to put that," Richard sai
d under his breath. After a warning-look from Jake, he raised his voice. "Just hold it against the suit's skin for a couple of seconds. The nanobots will understand your intentions and grip it." Demonstrating, he held the pistol against his right hip. When he let go, it stayed, making him look like a space-age cowboy. "That'll work for anything you want to carry."
Vic and Jake did the same.
"Where are the oxygen tanks and power supply?" Jake asked.
"There are none. Every time you move an arm or leg, you're displacing millions of nanobots. They convert the movement to electricity and store it in the network of nanoscale capacitors powering the suit. For air, another class of bot harvests oxygen from the water while scrubbing carbon monoxide from your breath."
Slipping his wristwatch on, Jake checked the time. "We have thirty-five minutes left." Stepping to the console, he toggled the radio. "Vampire Six, this is Turtle One, over."
"Go ahead, Turtle One," Colonel Newcastle replied.
"We're prepped for EVA. Right now, we're parked in the ship's blind spot, but I'm about to maneuver us around to the head's left side and approach the tunnel."
"Thank you, Captain. I'd volunteer to join you, but our suits don't have an extended EVA capability. What can we do to assist?"
"I've been thinking about that. They haven't fired at us in a while, but I'm not sure what'll happen when we poke our heads around the corner. As much as possible, I need you and your fighters to keep them looking the other way, sir."
"Will do, Turtle One." Newcastle paused. "Listen, Captain, if you can't finish them off in a half hour, get your asses out of there. I can't hold off. From a hundred miles out, the missiles will never make it to the target. We don't have the Argonian fighters to hide their approach. They'll just pick them off with their lasers. We will fire our missiles in exactly … thirty-three minutes."
"Understood, sir."
"Again, good hunting, gentlemen."
"Thank you, sir. Turtle One, out."
