by Joshua James
“He really is an old stubborn bastard, but we got their help. That’s all that matters. And I wouldn’t have gotten it without your help, Ben, so thank you.” Rhule refused to sit back down. “Now all we have to do is come up with some kind of battle plan.”
“How many ships do you have left?” asked Ada. She sat in a chair in the corner. Unlike Clarissa, Congo and Wan, she was a soldier, and that seemed to count for enough in Rhule’s book that she’d been allowed to sit in. Ben supposed it spoke to the general opinion of Engano and her department that a UEF soldier qualified over an AIC operative like Clarissa.
Rhule sighed. “Not enough.”
“We have to make do with what we’ve got. Have you gotten in contact with Annapolis?”
“I’m working on it.”
Ben tilted his head to the side. “Working on it?”
“They’re going to take a little more convincing than the Grand Admiral. He’s a soldier, and gets the logistics and implications of what’s to come. Annapolis is full of politicians. Earth politicians. Getting them to risk their positions at the polls by putting the planet on high alert, that’s going to take more than some data feeds.”
Ben walked over to the window in Rhule’s office. Through it he saw the Jovian moon still in the process of dying, and the Shapeless ship slowly departing, having already done the hideous deed it was there to do. There was no doubt in his mind that it was leaving for Earth.
“That’s not enough,” Ada said. She was leaning forward in the chair now, hands clasped in front of her like she was ready to spring into a fight at any moment. “You have to make them see.”
Rhule shrugged. “Greasing the wheels of bureaucracy is Engano’s game, not mine. She’s consider a snake on Earth, so this is falling to me. And frankly, Earth is obstinate. My understanding is you have to have … patience.” It seemed like the word pained him.
“Patience?” Ben felt sick. “I don’t think you really realize what this means.”
“I do,” Rhule said. “But they—"
“Before,” Ben said, talking over Rhule, “all we had to worry about was these things invading Earth. And that was bad enough.” He waved his hand. “Some planetary assault, followed by these damn gooey monsters in every city across the planet. But now, now they have a weapon that can, at least in theory, destroy an entire planet. My planet!”
Rhule slammed his hand into his fist. “Don’t lecture me!” he thundered.
Ben was shocked into silence. Even Ada leaned back in her chair. “Maybe you’ve forgotten,” Rhule said slowly, visibly working his jaw to keep his voice in check, “but that invasion of Earth you’re so worried about already happened to my home. On my watch.”
Ben flinched. Had he known that Rhule was from Vassar-1? He was probably home-ported there, so he obviously considered it his spiritual home, no matter where he was from among the Outer Worlds.
“I’m sorry.” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re right. These things have already killed so many.”
Ada stood up, seemingly spurred on by Rhule’s outburst. “But that’s exactly why we have to stop them together. Individually, they’ll tear us apart. And that’s exactly their plan.”
Rhule sighed, calming himself as he looked from Ada to Ben and back again. “If I could get anyone on Earth to listen, I’d gladly explain that to them.”
Ben shook his head. “Bureaucracy can’t be involved. Everyone back home needs to scramble every damn ship they have, arm everyone who can fire a damn gun and get ready to fight for their lives.”
He turned and looked back out the large viewport. When he realized Rhule hadn’t spoken for several seconds, he turned to find Rhule was studying him and Ada.
“You two have way too much passion and way too little cynicism. Do you know that?”
Ben didn’t need compliments. He needed help, and he hated asking for help from anyone. He wanted to make it happen himself. Right now.
“I can do it,” Ben said. “I can fly back to Earth and—"
Ada leapt to her feet. “Not without me.”
“No,” Rhule said sharply. “Give me more credit than that. I have … other channels to pursue. And Engano might be a pariah, but she still has contacts of her own. We can convince these assholes that they don’t want to be the ones in office when Earth falls.” He cocked his head. “Besides, I have something more important that you two can do right here.”
Ben snorted. “More important than getting Earth off their collective asses?”
Rhule held Ben’s gaze. “I need you and your people in the assembly room.”
Ben assumed he meant Clarissa, Congo, and Wan. He wasn’t sure if he’d call them his people. If anything, they were Ada’s people. He exchanged a quick glance with her. She frowned back.
“The assembly room?” he asked.
“No one on board knows these creatures better than you folks,” Rhule said. “I want you to brief the fleet. We’ll be making fold jumps to near-Earth orbit soon. My people are antsy. They’re smart enough to know we’re risking it all by jumping in the UEF’s lap. They don’t understand the alien threat, not like I do. And I don’t understand it like you do.”
“Brief the fleet?” Ben felt like his mind was going a bit slow.
“Like you said, billions of lives are on the line. They need to know what you know, but they also need to see the same passion you just gave me. Trust me, kid. You got it.”
“Got what?”
“Same thing your dad had. The ability to inspire and lead. Don’t waste that gift. Because I got to tell you, it’s rare.”
Ada chalked it up to chauvinism, pure and simple, that Rhule was only interested in Ben giving this little talk. And she was fine with that. She had better things to do than give speeches.
But as they walked through the halls of the Veruvian, she could feel that Ben was nervous. Hell, she could see it written on his face.
“What the hell am I going to say?” he murmured.
Ada thought about that. “In my experience, it doesn’t matter. What’s happening is happening, whether they like it or not. All you’re doing is giving them a reason to push through when the shit hits the fan.”
“And the shit is going to hit the fan,” Ben said.
“Oh, definitely.”
The walked along in silence for a few more seconds. “So, I’m a bit nervous,” Ben admitted at last.
“You don’t say,” Ada said.
Ben broke into a smile. “I think you should be the one doing this. I’m not much for speeches.”
“Maybe,” she said, “but Rhule wants it to be you. Hard to argue why.”
Ben raised an eyebrow.
Ada sighed. “You have the name with the cache. That’s the truth. You’re a Saito.”
“Then my father should be the one doing it,” he said.
Ada stopped walking. Ben did too. “So the great Ben Saito, who’s faced whole fleets of enemies, cultists, commandos, shapeshifting aliens, and death itself is going to fall apart now?”
Ben snorted. “I guess when you put it that way...”
Ada laughed too. Ever since Ben had fallen in with Clarissa—or Morgan, as she was back then—people had been trading on his name. He’d told Ada that was the reason they’d grabbed him in the first place.
She knew that Ben did his best to assert himself as a leader, but she could tell that it was uncomfortable for him, whatever everyone else projected on him. Frankly, it came more naturally to her, but there was no changing roles now. He was the one with the name, and he’d have to be the one to wield it.
“Just don’t screw up,” she said.
Ben snorted again. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
Ada patted his hand. “That’s what I’m here for.” She couldn’t help getting in another dig. “All I’m here for, apparently.”
“Ada—”
“I know,” she said. “Just messing with you. Besides, you know me. I’d rather be shooting something.”
> Ben rolled his eyes. “Marines.”
“You’re welcome,” Ada said.
In the distance, she saw the large assembly room. People were already funneling in. “That’s your cue. I’m getting the others and bringing them up here.”
“Don’t let anyone give you shit,” Ben said.
Ada smiled as they separated. “You, too.”
Three
The Chase
“Please, friend Admiral,” said the yellow-eyed alien from inside his cage. “You must stop. You must let them finish this.”
“No, I really don’t have to stop anything, creature.” Admiral Chevenko sat in the dreadnought’s commander’s chair, looking through the viewing screens at Lee Saito’s ship. He should have the damn creature below deck, but he didn’t trust it to be out of his sight. At this point, he couldn’t trust anyone.
Saito’s ship had made a run for it, as expected, and the dreadnought was pushing hard to intercept. “He’s not to make it through that asteroid field!” Chevenko barked, as if he could will it to be so.
“Yes sir!” answered Lieutenant Commander Anastasia Chevenko.
Chevenko smiled. Oh, how surprised Lee would be to learn the truth about one of his Atlas navigators. This, of course, was Chevenko’s real daughter. The one aboard the Atlas had been a Shapeless creation, a saboteur planted on the ill-fated super dreadnought, who had fed the admiral all the intel he desired.
“Sir, if I may,” the copilot across from Anastasia said. “We’re not prepared to enter into an asteroid field like this. I’m not sure our shields will hold up, and we’re too big to maneuver our way through it.”
“I’m well aware of the risks. Arm all cannons. Set half of them to shoot some of these damn rocks out of our way, while the others focus on that damn ship.”
“Sir, I can’t, we won’t make—”
Anastasia took out her pistol and shot the copilot in the head. He was knocked right out of his seat and tumbled to the ground, limbs akimbo, as a pool of blood grew under his head.
No one on the command deck moved or spoke.
Anastasia nodded calmly as she holstered her pistol. “I don’t need him. We’ll make it through, Dad.”
“That’s my girl,” Chevenko said with a smile.
Lee sped through the asteroid field that separated the Shapeless’ home planet from open space. It had been a while since he’d actually had to pilot like that himself. It was made all the harder with only one arm, the stump of the other cauterized. A low, throbbing ache managed to penetrate the haze of pain meds in his blood, but he soldiered on.
Though there was a fair bit of rust, it flaked off within a couple minutes of entering the hazardous area. He felt like a young man again. There was no time for Lee to enjoy his newfound feeling of youth, though.
Not with a damn dreadnought after me.
If he wasn’t extremely careful, he’d never make it to the Shapeless’ home planet. Too reckless, and he’d end up splattered across one of these rocks. Too careful, and the powerful dreadnought would run him down. Neither was an option worth contemplating.
As Lee weaved through the asteroids that moved in arcing lines like they were on taut strings, the trajectories grew increasingly complex as cascading impacts were registered, thanks to the endless cannon fire from the dreadnought pursuing him, coming ever closer as it went. His pulse raced, pupils dilating as adrenaline surged through his body, helping him stay alert.
A shot from Chevenko’s dreadnought’s many cannons hit an asteroid just ahead of Lee. Pieces of its debris bounced off Lee’s interceptor’s shields, creating light blue ripples, slightly obscuring his view. He almost soiled himself, as he was a split second from colliding with another asteroid his obstructed view hid from him. At the last moment he steered clear of it.
“Can’t keep going like this,” Lee murmured to himself. If he kept proceeding as he was, eventually the dreadnought would hit him.
Lee pulled with all the might his one arm could muster and took a sharp turn to port. Instead of making his way towards the edge of the asteroid field, he steered further into it, hoping that the dreadnought would follow.
It did.
Once he saw that the dreadnought was falling for his trap, Lee took control of the cannons on top of his ship. Able to swivel, he aimed them behind him. Using the auto targeting, he locked on to a dozen asteroids behind him and fired. It was so rapid and efficient that those space rocks turned into a sheet of debris that he could hide behind, if only for a few moments.
“Where’d he go?” Chevenko watched as his dreadnought was faced with the debris that Lee hid behind. The floor rumbled, and he felt like he could sense the asteroids colliding with and bouncing off the shields, even if it was surely his imagination. A smart man would check on the shields’ power levels, but Chevenko knew the levels would hold. Lee’s power would be depleted long before his shields were.
“He couldn’t have gone far,” Anastasia said.
Chevenko agreed, but kept that to himself. He wanted Lee found immediately, and damn anything else.
The sensor operator kept running wider and wider sweeps. “Still nothing.”
“He’s out there,” Anastasia said with growing irritation.
Chevenko sat back and let his people work. He expected that they could—
Lee’s ship came screaming out from around the debris, guns blazing, aiming for the dreadnought’s cannons. He must have unloaded everything but his nukes.
“Stay with him,” Chevenko growled, knowing that whatever damage their cannons received, as long as they stuck close, they’d have an advantage to drive home.
Lee’s desperate gamble did little more than further deplete the massive vessel’s shields, and allowed him to pass the ship and make a last-ditch run for the Shapeless planet.
Lee’s plan was good, if not desperate. But it only partially succeeded. As he flew as fast as possible away from the dreadnought, he got clipped by one of the ship’s undamaged cannons. It was only a partial impact, but it was far too strong for his smaller ship’s shields to prevent.
A second later, another cannon blast thumped his ship, this one more forcefully. It hit one of his engines and sent the ship into a tailspin.
Lee was in a perilous position. He didn’t have control over his ship, and he was still in the asteroid field.
“We got him!” Anastasia exclaimed.
Lee’s ship, black vapor trail behind it, dancing in zero gravity, careened wildly in the asteroid field, bouncing off rocks like a pinball.
“Not yet,” Chevenko said. “He’s not dead yet. The man’s like a cockroach. We need to be sure. Take us in closer.” He’d known Lee too long to be fooled into thinking he was dead. He’d once seen the former commander fight his way out of an AIC prison, alone, unarmed. Surviving this would’ve been child’s play.
“He’s out of control in an asteroid—”
“Get us closer,” Chevenko snarled. “Now.”
Lee was certain he was dead. Every alarm went off in his ship’s cockpit. The red emergency lights were on. Sparks flew out of the console in front of him. Only his seat belt kept him from flying out of his seat as his ship hit seemingly every asteroid in his path.
“Warning, shields at twenty percent,” said the ship’s operating system in an unhurried voice.
Lee cast his eyes around the control board in front of him, frantically looking for something he could do. Some system still working. Some way to transfer energy or control.
But regaining control was impossible now. Propulsion was out. Power was failing, and shields with it.
Lee closed his eyes and tried to think. He was close. So close.
But the odds were… He pushed the thought away. He wasn’t accepting fate. Not like this.
After a moment, he felt everything around him go silent. The world seemed to slow down.
In his mind’s eye, he saw himself at the beach with his son. It was the same boardwalk the strange alien mind meld
had made him visit before. It seemed like ages ago, both in the dream and in real time. He was holding Ben’s hand.
“Are you and mommy fighting?” asked young Ben, stuffed animal clutched tight to his chest.
“We were. Yes. But sometimes grown-ups, even moms and dads, fight,” explained a younger Lee. They stared out at the rolling waves of the Atlantic. In the distance he saw the top of the Washington Monument poking up out of the salty waters.
“Are you going to get a disforce?” asked young Ben.
Lee smiled ruefully. “Divorce, kiddo,” he said as he picked Ben up and carefully placed and held him on the top rail of the boardwalk. “And no, we’re not getting divorced. It was just an argument.”
“I don’t want you to get divorced.”
“Neither do I,” Lee said. Then he pointed at the water, as much to distract himself as his son. “Look at it, Ben. Isn’t it something else?”
“It’s pretty.”
“I know I’m not always around. I know that, I don’t know, I’m not always the best dad. But I have an important job to do. I protect all of this from those who want to destroy it. I protect you from the bad guys.”
“I know. Mommy says you’re a soldier.”
“That’s true.”
“She says that daddy can’t be here because you don’t only have to protect me, but all the other kids as well.”
“Your mom’s a wise woman. Don’t ever forget that.” Lee kissed his son on his cheek. “And don’t ever forget how much I love you, Ben. Don’t ever forget that.”
Lee opened his eyes. His grip tightened on the pilot’s stick. He regained his focus. He remembered why he was out here. He remembered why he’d sacrificed so much. He had to protect his son. He had to protect the Earth. And he couldn’t do either if he died in some asteroid field in the middle of nowhere.
