Escape 2: Fight the Aliens (9 page)

Bill had expected that question to come up earlier. Maybe the fatigue of spending 35 hours straight doing Op Force battles had blunted the curiosity of his boarders. Or maybe they simply took it for granted that they
would
succeed. That was the mind orientation of every special operations person he’d ever met.

“You talk to the ship mind of the Collector ship,” Bill said bluntly. “As Jane and I shared with you earlier,
our
ship mind is in neutrino comlink contact with the ship minds of the six Collector ships. That contact is without delay, as if you are talking the way we talk now,” he said, looking at the six of them. “While the Alien crews have blocked those ship minds from active control of the Collector ship’s major systems, leaving most ship control to the Aliens on the Command Bridge, those six ship minds
can
talk to our ship. They will convey any call from you to me, to Jane or to the CNO, depending on who is available. We will help you any way we can.” Bill shrugged his shoulders, causing his backpack to sit looser on his back. He tapped his chest plate. “Remember that these chest plates will only block taser beams if they hit on the plates. You get hit elsewhere and you are out for nine hours. You get hit by a laser beam and you’ll need treatment by a clamshell healer.” He blinked, meeting his boarders eye to eye. “You
will
survive your boarding! Short of being hit in the head by a laser, these healer units can repair any wound. They fixed my deaf ear from an IED blast. So, move fast, hit hard and overcome the five members of each ship’s crew before they realize they’re facing combat-trained boarders!”

“We will!” called Bob, the gray-haired cynic showing true enthusiasm.

“Lead us and we will fight,” said Jake, his manner SEAL calm. The man’s gray eyes were bright with eagerness.

“Follow me out of here and back to the Collector Pod Chamber,” Bill said, turning and leaving through the still open door of the Engine Chamber. “Everyone, put your vacsuit in the pod chamber’s airlock room, then head to the Food Chamber for a synthetic meal of whatever you can stomach.” Behind him came the thud of six pairs of boots. “After that, you are ordered to head to your habitat room and get at least eight hours of deep rem sleep. When you wake up, put on fresh BDUs and join me in the Command Bridge. We will be moving this ship, our transports and the subs to the vicinity of the Moon, there to face the incoming Collector ships!”

♦   ♦   ♦

Bill woke up from his own rem sleep when Jane entered the front living room. Though she moved quietly, aware he was catching his first winks in 35 hours, still, he was a SEAL. No one entered any room he was in without him knowing it, asleep or awake. She came back to the bedroom and undressed in the dark of the room, only the four green wall patches giving any illumination. She slid under the silken sheets, pumped her pillow and lay nearby.

He reached out and gripped her warm hand. “Hard day?”

She sighed. “Not really. The sub captains are smart, sharp and long deployment experienced. They handled the null gravity surprise very well. While the gravity plates will give them normal weight on their subs, I wanted them to experience what space was about.”

He chuckled. “Did they go all wavy-arm?”

“Nope,” she said, her soprano soft as she squeezed his hand. “Both of them had had parachute drop training during some mixed duty assignments. They managed to tap the floor enough to give them momentum to whichever direction they wanted to go. How did your Op Force stuff end up?”

“Very well,” he said, turning on his left side and putting his head close enough so he could smell the jasmine perfume she wore while awake. “You smell wonderful. Need a massage?”

She now chuckled. “Not the type you have in mind! But my shoulders could sure use some deep massage. Sitting stiff in that command seat for hours is a bit tiresome.”

“As you command,” he said, waiting until she rolled left onto her side. He reached out with his right hand, found her right shoulder and began the deep kneading massage he’d learned as a kid from his Mom and Dad. They had become addicted to Oriental-style massages while on carrier duty in Yokohama, years ago.

“That feels good,” she murmured, sounding sleepy.

Her tone reminded him of how much he had come to love her. At first they’d spent time together cause they were the only humans on the
Blue Sky
, leastwise until they liberated Bright Sparkle and Learned Escape. Later, they’d found they both loved playing Scrabble and doing crossword puzzles, of which the ship’s Library archive had a deep inventory. That had led to more sharing of their families, their time growing up and their mutual decisions to enlist. He’d been amazed at the hi-tech stuff filling the rooms at Peterson. She’d been fascinated by the details of his hostage rescues. Together, they had become a couple in love and happy to share all they were with each other. And he found he no longer woke up with his hands clenching the neck of his lover. His IED nightmares had mostly faded, and nothing made him treat her roughly. For which he thanked whatever gods ruled the universe.

When he heard her breathing deepen, he stopped the massaging. Being together like this, a married couple who had traveled the stars and met amazing Alien people, was enough. He lay back and worked at slowing the beat of his heart and worked at clearing his mind of all thought. Deep meditation was something he’d learned from his parents and now it helped him fall back to the sleep he needed.

CHAPTER SIX

Bill sat at his Ship Weapons station, with Admiral Richardson to his left at Liaison, Bright Sparkles to his right at Fusion Power, the rest of the crew further along, and Jane seated behind them at her post atop the command pedestal. The seats to her right and left were empty. Learned Escape and Builder of Joy were long gone on their transports, which now rode ahead of the
Blue Sky
along with the two subs. His 18 boarders sat at the far rear, in seats along the back wall. Ship mind had given each boarder a true space holo so they could follow whatever happened. He scanned the holos facing him. Time to see what was what.

The system graphic on his left showed the six purple dots of the Collector ships had advanced to the orbit of Mars. Within four hours the enemy would hit the Earth-Moon zone. At his upper left his weapons holo showed the ship cross-section and all weapons. They showed Green Operational. The antimatter reservoir had enough AM for four quick shots. The true space holo to his upper right showed the blue and white curve of Earth, with the sunlit shapes of the transports and subs lying ahead of them in their orbital vector. To his right the comlink holo showed Jane, dressed in her blue camo Air Force ABU, sitting atop her pedestal. She looked refreshed. They’d awoken together this morning and had shared a meal together in the Food Chamber. The admiral and his Alien crewmates had also taken a food and sleep break during the 42 hours since his boarders had arrived on the
Blue Sky
. Now, everyone was ready to head for the Moon. He spoke to his lifemate.

“Captain, all ships are Magfield alive,” he said, striving for a relaxed tone. “
Talking Skin
,
Tall Trees
, the
Louisiana
and the
Minnesota
report ready to deorbit.”

She smiled. Jane had seen the same sensor readings he had seen, but one job of an XO was to remind his captain of the timing involved in combat. “Thank you, Executive Officer.” She looked up at the white glowing ceiling. “Star Traveler, establish a neutrino comlink with each of our ships.”

“Link established,” the AI said with a low hum.

“Captains Baraka, Leonard, Learned and Builder, move your ships to positions above, below and to either side of the
Blue Sky
, in order of my mention of your name,” she said calmly, her manner command alert. “Make your separation distance at 4,000 miles. Once you are in position, we will all depart for the north pole of the Moon. Our ship navigator will feed vector angles to you. Move at top Magfield speed. Execute!”

In seconds the four smaller ships had moved to surround the
Blue Sky
.

“Captain Yamaguchi, we are in position,” Baraka said from the
Louisiana
, his red-lit image filling part of the comlink holo on Bill’s right. Baraka wore a vacsuit and helmet, like all his sailors.

“Captain of the fleet, same for us,” Leonard called from the attack sub
Minnesota
. The bald man’s image showed him also wearing one of the vacsuits delivered to his sub. Like Baraka, his image was red-lit as he stood in the CIC of the sub.

“Captain,” called Learned Escape from the
Talking Skin
. “My ship is oriented as commanded.” The Alien who spoke in bands and dots of color also wore a clear vacsuit, with his speaker/vidcam unit on his left shoulder.

“Me too Captain Yamaguchi!” chittered Builder of Joy, the image of the giant squirrel showing him in his own vacsuit and sitting within the front pilot space of the transport
Tall Trees
.

Lofty Flyer touched her Navigation pillar top. “Vector angles transmitted to control tablets of the submarines and to the transports,” the brown-furred squirrel lady chittered softly.

“Life Support is fully operational,” called Wind Swift the scaled kangaroo.

Bright Sparkle tapped the top of her control pillar. “All fusion reactors now operating at full output,” she said.

Jane nodded. “Time Marker, move us out at one-tenth lightspeed!”

The yellow electrical nimbus that surrounded the black-skinned walking snake expanded outward. “Both Magfield drive engines activated. We depart at maximum speed,” his shipmate hissed.

The true space holo lost Earth and its orbiting satellites. An image of a white full Moon filled the holo as Bill’s ship curved out on the Moon transit vector.

The star images blurred as the
Blue Sky
moved toward the Moon at 67.1 million miles per hour. While such a trip would take only 13.14 seconds at full Magfield speed, still it took a while to move up to full one-tenth lightspeed, then time to slow down. Within a minute, though, they had arrived above the north pole of the Moon. Below them lay the crater Rozhdestvensky and dozens of similar ice-filled impact craters. In his comlink holo, Jane leaned forward as she scanned her dozen ship status holos.

“Navigator, orient our ship’s nose toward the Lagrange 5 orbital position,” she said firmly. “Crew and fellow captains, my analysis of the incoming vector of the Collector ships indicates those ships will pass on that side of the Moon, within 10,000 miles of the Moon’s surface.”

“That puts them within range of our lasers,” Bill commented.

“And vice versa,” Jane said. “We have just less than four hours before these ships arrive. Time for a final weapons report. Weapons Chief, I can see from my own Weapons holo duplicate that all is fine in your department.” She looked to her comlink holo, which still carried the images of the four other captains. “Captains Learned and Builder, I know your ship lasers are functional. What is the load status for your MITV torpedoes?”

The near-human form of Learned looked thoughtful. “
Talking Skin
presently carries nine torpedoes, each outfitted with five multiply independently targeted thermonuclear warheads. Maximum yield of each warhead is three megatons.”

The brown fur of Builder of Joy stiffened as his excitement showed. “
Tall Trees
can let fly with eight torpedoes! Our nose laser is at full power. We will fly about them like a bee around a flower and sting them where it will hurt!” chittered the Aelthorpe alien.

Jane smiled at the enthusiasm of the brave squirrel man. While smaller than most humans, the flying squirrel had enough bravery to fill a stadium. Bill appreciated the detail of the Megun man who had become Bright Sparkle’s frequent love interest. And she his. Jane gestured at her comlink holo.

“Captain Baraka?”

The black man in charge of one of America’s fourteen Trident submarines looked away from a vacsuited sailor who sat before a flatscreen. “My Executive Officer reports that this ship’s weapons are fully functional and ready to fire. We possess 24 Trident II D5 three-stage missiles. Each missile carries 12 W88 thermonuke warheads. Yield of each warhead ranges from 300 to 475 kilotons, depending upon our final dialup. Range of each missile is a nominal 7,000 miles, but that is within Earth’s gravity field,” the man said, his tone gravelly. “In space, once we launch a warhead toward a vector target, it will keep going. As I’m sure you are aware, Captain Yamaguchi.”

“Yes,” Jane said. “We have had similar experiences with our MITV torp warheads. You can fire other offensive rockets, can you not?”

“We can,” Baraka said, his forehead shining with a light sheen of sweat. “We have four Mark 68 torpedo tubes. While in port at Norfolk, just after the President’s announcement, Vice Admiral Richardson arranged for us to receive a full complement of Harpoon, ASROC and SUBROC rockets with nuclear warheads. To replace our Tomahawks. We can fire six Harpoons, six ASROCs and four SUBROCS. Warhead size on each is 250 kilotons. Range in space is essentially unlimited.”

Jane nodded. “Thank you. Captain Leonard?”

The Anglo in charge of the 377 foot long attack sub wore no hat inside his vacsuit. Like Bill’s spec ops people, the sub crews had quickly discovered hats of any sort got in the way during combat action. Leonard looked left at something in his CIC room, then faced Jane. “Captain Yamaguchi, the
Minnesota
is outfitted with 12 vertical launch missile tubes. We can fire twelve Standard 2 missiles. Each Standard carries a single 350 kiloton thermonuke warhead. And like the
Louisiana
, we have four torpedo tubes capable of firing both Harpoons and ASROCs. Of which we carry nine each in the forward torpedo bay.” The man paused, looked down, then up. “Regarding the later boarding effort by your collector pods, this sub contains a large lock-in, lock-out diver chamber designed for use by scuba-wearing SEALs and special operations teams. If any of your pod teams need help, we are willing to close on a Collector ship, attach a boarding tube, and send some of our security folks to help out.”

Richardson moved to Bill’s left. “Captain Yamaguchi, that option to aid a pod boarding may be useful,” the Chief of Naval Operations said hurriedly. “And with General Poindexter’s help, I was able to substitute rockets for the Tomahawks and water torpedoes carried by both boats, plus increase the missile loadout numbers. These subs will bite hard, then have enough ammo to bite hard again!”

Jane smiled briefly, then nodded at the man who had clearly been impatient to add to the reports from the sub captains. “Vice Admiral Richardson, thank you. I had hoped your influence would enable these two subs to be rearmed while our Magfield spacedrive engines were being loaded into them and set up.” She looked back to the comlink holo with the four captain images in it. “Captains, please let your crews know how much I appreciate their hurry up and get it done attitude.” Her manner went command formal. “Today we begin the defense of America and Earth. Later, we will capture Alien starships to further defend America from Alien nasties. Now, fellow captains, please stand by and monitor my next discussion.”

Bill tensed. This was something Jane had discussed with him when they’d awoken from their sleep-in. He thought it was pointless. But she was the captain and she had the deep knowledge of space and stars, thanks to her work at Peterson and her amateur astronomy hours with her Celestron NexStar scope. He sat back in his seat, then shrugged. Something didn’t feel right. Then he realized the vacsuit and helmet he now wore, like his fellow crew members and the boarding team folks, blocked the easy fit with the seat that he was used to. He’d thought it a bit early for everyone to don a vacsuit, but that had been Jane’s order. In space, nothing was certain, except that surprises happen and small chunks of whatever could hit anyone while in Earth orbit. That had happened several times with the ISS station and the Chinese and Russian stations. Which, thank god, were now empty of people. While President Hartman had not declared martial law after her “Alien Arrival” speech, still, the country was on a DEFCON Three alert level and the Air Force and Navy were ready to shoot down incoming collector pods. Which would surely be arriving shortly after the Collector ships passed by the Moon. Or tried to. He hoped their fleet could cause some problems for the arriving Aliens.

“Star Traveler,” Jane called to the ship AI. “Establish a neutrino comlink on the frequency used by former Captain Diligent Taskmaster.”

A click echoed from the ceiling. “Neutrino comlink established,” the AI said with a low hum.

Jane’s expression went from command alert to protective mother angry. “Diligent, you bastard! Turn away! You can see from your sensors that you now face
five
Collector ships!” She grimaced. “Whatever you told your fellow captains, raiding Earth for captives will be more dangerous than you can imagine! There is no profit to be had here. Leave!”

In the comlink holo the images of the four other ship captains moved to one side and the cockroach captain filled most of the holo. This time the giant insect wore a transparent vacsuit. Within it the critter’s two head antennae moved sideways, while its upper and middle arm pairs touched nearby control pillars. In the background were four Alien crew, each working at a ship station. The creature’s black eyes gleamed.

“Your effort to make disloyal the artificial minds of our ships has come to nothing!” the cockroach rasped through mouth palps. “My crew now controls all vital functions! We control our ship weapons, our spacedrives, all that matters.” The critter looked aside at a holo, then back. “My fellow captains agree with me that you Humans must be punished for your attack on our Collector ship factory system. We are prepared for minor ship damage. And your claim of four other Collector ships helping you cannot be believed! While I detect four other Magfield drive ships above the moon of your world, they
cannot
be fellow Collector ships. They must be collector pod engines. We will soon arrive and render your world unable to visit space again!”

Jane’s manner shifted smoothly to command formal. “You have been warned. Believe what you will believe. But know this. When we capture you and the crews of the other ships, we will not return you to a Market world. Instead, we will place you in a habitat dome on our cold world of Mars. You passed by it recently. Did it look inviting?”

The brown antennae of Diligent shifted forward. “You lie again. Collector ship crews never colonize any world. We capture primitives to sell for Nokten crystals and
solidars
, then we retire to a suitable Market world for play, entertainment, whatever pleases a rich crew member.” Clear eyelids passed over the two black compound eyes of the giant cockroach, then withdrew. “As for the ship you now occupy, we will empty it of all bioforms. Perhaps we will allow
you
to live on this red ball you call Mars!”