Authors: Doug J. Cooper
Sid heard a throaty growl fill the
air around them and pivoted his head back and forth, looking for the source of
the noise. He saw a glow coming from six cubicles on the top row of the drone
garage. The drones shook, paused as if uncertain, then lifted and hovered in
place.
“Criss,” said Sid as he stepped out of the cart. “Please
tell me this is you.”
“Six Kardish soldiers are each directing a drone. I was able
to track them until they entered a box unit. That unit is connected to many
others, so I am challenged to pinpoint their position at this moment.” Farther
down the row, perhaps twenty more drones roared to life. “This is me,” said Criss.
Sid stood on the deck and pointed as he spoke. “Juice, you
go straight. Cheryl, toward the box city. Run!” He clapped his hands like a
coach, punctuating his instructions.
He stood next to the cart and watched. Cheryl ran slowly but
made good evasive moves, shifting her path left and right and stopping for
brief moments at random intervals. He turned to watch Juice and couldn’t help
but smile. She was running with the comfortable stride of a seasoned athlete
and had already gained a remarkable distance from the cart.
“Nice work, Juice,” he said to her. “Think about evasive,
though. You can’t outrun a drone. So zig and zag, especially if you hear
something incoming.” He watched her for a moment longer and saw her move left.
“Make more abrupt changes. But slow down at each shift or you’ll injure
yourself.”
He stopped talking when his world was drowned out by the growl
of drones filling the space overhead. He couldn’t count them all, and he couldn’t
tell the good guys from the bad. He was confident Criss would win in the end. But
luck and happenstance would also play a role in whether they survived.
Three drones flying as a team screamed straight out over
him, banked as one, and came tearing back. Together they targeted a drone that was
headed right at Juice. The three simultaneously launched a volley of energy bolts
that splintered the machine. It fell to the deck, and a large, burning chunk bounded
past Juice, just missing her.
Luck and happenstance,
thought Sid. One
down and five to go.
Sid looked at Jack and contemplated his options. Intellectually,
he knew there was no choice to make. Jack was already dead. Yet emotionally, he
believed that if he ran, he was somehow abandoning his friend and partner. He
touched Jack’s shoulder in a brief farewell ceremony, then turned and jogged in
a rambling route that moved him in the general direction of the dividing wall.
He heard a snarl behind him and changed direction so he
could see. A drone looped through an aerobatic curve and lined up on a course headed
straight for him. Still some distance away, it slowed and hovered.
Sid stopped in his tracks. The tiny ship was standing off at
a distance, yet Sid could see the bright light of a weapon surging for
discharge. He faked left and jumped right, and it tracked him. His evasive
actions were not fooling anyone. He stopped and squared his body to face it.
And then his defiant stand was interrupted by a deafening pressure
wave that shook his body. Three drones zipped by in a tight formation right in
front of him. The roar shook his chest and shocked his eardrums. In a
remarkable exhibition of precision flying, Criss timed the group to intercept
and block the deadly energy bolts bound for his body.
The bolts slammed into one of the crafts Criss had deployed
as a shield, protecting Sid. He watched the sacrificial drone crash onto the
deck and tumble in flames down the field.
A second group of drones teamed with the first. Rather than
acting to shield and protect, Criss used these to seek and destroy. They
swerved toward the hovering Kardish-controlled craft and poured a stream of
energy bolts into it. Shattered by the onslaught, it showered a cascade of
sparks, burst into flames, and fell to the deck with a thump.
“Thanks for the save, Criss. What’s the situation?” As Sid said
this, he watched two more drones launch from the cubicles. And then, at the far
end of the row, a group of ten drones shot out of their cubicles together. Moving
as a unit, these ten flew side by side toward the box city. A rumbling thunder washed
over him as the lineup of drones powered into the distance.
“I am able to protect you three,” said Criss. “But this will
not end until I stop the Kardish soldiers. They can each command one drone at a
time. Every time I down one, it is replaced by another. As long as there are
six soldiers, there will be six drones in the air and on the attack.”
* * *
Criss was both frustrated and
concerned—frustrated because he had the processing power to control a hundred
thousand drones by himself and should be able to end this attack in a decisive
fashion. Yet his connection to the Kardish subsystems was slow. Like trying to drink
the ocean through a straw, the patchwork of links couldn’t handle the information
flow he needed. If he tried to put more than forty drones into the air at once,
the connection overloaded.
And he was concerned because his connection was fragile. The
cobble of communication went from him, to the scout, to the
Alliance
,
through a serpentine signal path, to a relay in the operations bay, into the
Kardish subsystems, and out to the functions that controlled the drones. There
were many points of failure. A disruption of any link in the chain would be
disastrous for the team.
When he realized that every drone he downed was being
replaced by another, he transitioned his methods over the open field from
offense to defense. He had three people to protect. He found it straightforward
to anticipate the movements of the Kardish-controlled drones and respond
accordingly. But this method had limits. At some point, one of his drones would
miss its assignment, which would mean death for a team member. An unforeseeable
event, such as an unlucky bounce of a fragment after a crash, could have dire
consequences as well.
Each drone had a three-gen crystal, making it capable of taking
complex, independent actions. Yet the Kardish command-and-control system
required that each drone be given a specific assignment by the gatekeeper. Until
such an assignment was forthcoming, the drone would sit idle and wait for
instructions. It was yet another level of authority imposed by the Kardish over
their crystal workforce.
In this battle, the Kardish soldiers were doing their best
to perform a gatekeeper’s function. They fed assignments to their drone, and
their active link prevented Criss from overriding their instructions. Since he
could not intervene directly, he expanded his strategy. He would eliminate the
Kardish soldiers.
He launched ten drones and dispatched them into the box city,
positioning them in a simple ten-across formation. He powered them out on their
maximum thrust. He knew the specific box unit the soldiers had entered but thought
it likely that once inside, they had moved to a different location. So he was
going to raze the box city, beginning with their point of entry and working
outward.
He directed the drones to fly a sortie that was a block wide
and six blocks long. The formation swooped across the block-wide strip like
crop dusters of old. Except, unlike crop dusters, the drones delivered a spray
of destruction. They started the bombardment three blocks before the point where
the soldiers had disappeared and continued for three blocks past it.
After a first pass that reduced the swath below to charred
wreckage, they banked and flew in for a second pass that edged the first. Criss
directed them outward, strip by strip, adding a swath on alternating sides, and
reducing an ever widening patch of the box city to ruins.
On the fourth pass, the battle of the drones in the field
stopped. Criss wasn’t certain if he’d killed the soldiers or just broken their
connection to the vessel’s subsystems. He chose to reduce the chances of a
future surprise by having the drones make several more passes. He then sent them
back to the open field to act as protection sentries. It was time for the team to
make good their escape.
* * *
Sid recognized that the drones were fast
and agile. His random-pattern style of running contributed nothing to his
safety. At irregular intervals, a Kardish-controlled drone would attack, and
Criss would send a mini-armada to protect him and down the drone. With each attack,
the Kardish soldiers varied their technique. So far, Criss had been able to
anticipate and adapt to maintain his edge.
Driven by reflex, Sid kept moving. His heart pounded and his
throat was dry. His ears hurt from the shriek of battle. His nostrils burned
from the acrid fumes. But he was a battle-hardened warrior and a legend in the
DSA for surviving, even thriving, in crazy situations.
His instincts suggested that the three of them get to the
scout and make a run for it. Criss could use the drones to protect them in a
rear-guard action as they flew out through the overhead hangar doors. He didn’t
know what the Kardish might send in pursuit, but the scout’s cloak should give
them reasonable cover. And while there wasn’t enough fuel to make it home, perhaps
a supply ship could be sent from the lunar base to meet up with them.
“Criss,” called Sid over the din, “can you protect us if we
all move to the scout?”
And then it stopped. The swarm of drones, all of them,
slowed and hovered. The echo of explosions quieted. No weapons were firing. The
ringing in Sid’s ears was the loudest noise he heard.
The drones drifted slowly into a large semicircle, creating
a ring above and around the scout and the three runners. Each drone faced
outward. Together they formed a zone of protection. Criss had won.
Sid peered into the haze, trying to find Cheryl and Juice. The
smoke was too thick to see any distance. “Cheryl. Juice. Are you okay?”
“Here,” said Cheryl. Sid could hear her labored breathing. “Thank
God. I am seriously tired.”
“I’m good too,” said Juice. “I’m pretty sure I’m near the
scout, but I can’t see it.”
“Criss,” said Sid. “We’ll gather at the scout. Please help
us find it.”
He walked across the field, staying near the front of the
drone garage. The sheer volume of debris strewn across the deck surprised him. He
tried to retrace his steps and find Jack and realized he would need help. He
toggled for a private conversation. “Criss, help me find the cart.”
“Angle slightly to your right,” said Criss. “There. Now walk
for six minutes.”
Sid walked for a while and saw nothing but chunks of machines
and the occasional burning hulk. “I’m not seeing it.”
“Keep going. Twenty more steps. Stop.”
Sid looked around. He was standing among smoking wreckage.
And then he saw the cart, or at least a portion of it. The back of the cart,
the part where he had last seen Jack, was buried under the smoldering shell of a
downed drone, its nose exposed. It was charred black.
He stood and looked at it for a full minute. He wanted to
feel anger and frustration, but he was too drained. He turned and started for the
scout. As he walked, he understood that Criss had devoted his resources to
protecting the living. Sid would have made the same choice. He kicked a small
piece of scrap to bookend the moment. It bounced across the deck as he refocused
his brainstorming toward escaping and then destroying the Kardish vessel.
Sid continued toward the scout,
scanning his surroundings for danger. The Kardish ventilation system was
efficient at clearing the smoke, and with each turn of his head, he could see further
into the haze. The smoke was largely cleared when he perceived movement in the
distance. He stopped to look and instinctively brought his hand up to shield
his eyes. The hangar doors on the far dividing wall were opening. He looked up
and confirmed that the overhead doors were not moving.
“Criss?”
“This is me. I am delivering our ride home.”
Sid resumed walking while keeping an eye on the hangar doors
in the distant wall. They finished opening, and moments later the gap darkened.
A craft poked its nose out, edged through, and floated quietly above the box
city as it moved in his direction.
He marveled at the approaching craft. Then he heard a purr
behind him, pulling his attention to his immediate surroundings. He ducked
behind a drone fragment, searching for the cart and the danger it signaled, and
located the cause for his concern. An empty cart was picking its way through
the obstacles on the deck.
“I did not mean to alarm you,” said Criss. “I thought you
might appreciate a ride.”
The cart pulled up next to him. Sid didn’t need convincing.
He climbed in the front and slumped into the seat. It resumed driving, moving
in the direction he knew the scout to be.
Feeling guilty, he called to the others. “Cheryl, how’re you
doing?”
“I’m standing next to the scout watching Criss’s ship.”
“Juice, you okay?”
“Yup. I’m in the scout, getting me some nice, cool water.”
Minutes later, his cart stopped, and Sid saw Cheryl standing
on the deck, watching him. He could tell from the odd shadow she cast that she
was standing under the edge of the cloaked scout.
He hopped out and walked to her. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey back.”
Standing in front of her, he turned in a full circle and
scanned the area for danger. Seeing nothing of concern, he stopped his twirl
when he was again facing her, then reached out, enveloped her in his arms, and
held her tight. They kissed.
Juice ducked out of the scout’s bottom hatch and walked over
to them carrying water packs. “Geez, you two. Get a room.”
Sid raised his head, lifted an arm from Cheryl, and reached
out for Juice. He waved her close. She approached tentatively, then dove in
with them. The three shared a long group hug. They’d all ridden a rollercoaster
that had touched the extremes of human emotion, and this quiet moment of sharing
and physical contact helped them acknowledge and process what had happened.
Together they replenished their emotional stores in preparation for what they
hoped would be their final push home.
Sid accepted the water from Juice and drained his pack in
one long chug. He belched, then looked at Cheryl and Juice for a reaction to
his adolescent behavior, but they were both staring over his shoulder. He
turned to look.
The Kardish craft had passed the edge of the box city and
now dominated the space above them. The drones separated to let it pass.
Looking up, it was difficult to judge the craft’s size. But as it drew closer,
it was clear that it was bigger than the scout.
It touched down, and the struts relaxed with a sigh, letting
the craft’s body sink close to the ground. Its stark design was that of a
simple container. Sid could identify the bow because it tapered to a nose and
the stern because it had engines. Everything between showed the straight frame
of a box.
A crack opened along the top edge of the craft, and a door
so large it comprised most of the side facing them swung on a pivot along the
bottom edge. It rotated out and down in a steady motion until it touched the
field deck, forming a ramp up into the craft. They peered inside and saw a
large empty space.
“Looks like a cargo transport,” said Sid, stating the
obvious.
“Yes,” said Criss. “We will be loading the scout inside it.”
Their exchange ended when they heard a faint howl coming
from the direction of the drone garage. They turned to look, but couldn’t see
the source of the noise. Sid thought the cry conveyed some combination of
anguish and fury. Above them, two drones broke rank from the sentry circle and
darted out across the field.
“Should we be prepping for more?” Sid asked.
The echo of a small explosion ricocheted off and around the
walls of the Kardish vessel.
“No,” said Criss. “We are going home.”
The scout uncloaked behind them. When he saw it, Sid felt
like a weight lifted from his shoulders. He looked at Cheryl, and instead of
seeing the excitement he expected, she appeared downcast.
“What’s the matter?”
“I’m leaving my ship and crew behind.” She choked up as she
spoke and wiped below her eye with the edge of her finger. “I’m their captain.
I feel guilty as hell.”
Before Sid could respond, Criss intruded on the moment. “It
is best that you board the scout. The scout’s propulsion technology is not as
sophisticated as that of the Kardish. It will be loud and dangerous out here
when I move it into the cargo transport.”
Cheryl looked at the scout and then over to the Kardish
transport. “Why are we taking the scout at all?”
Juice poked her thumb at their ship. “That’s Criss’s home.
He’s powered and connected in there. I don’t think he’d agree to be shut down
while we’re sitting here exposed.” As she turned to the scout, she added.
“Truthfully, I doubt he’ll agree to be shut down anywhere.”
As Sid followed Juice and Cheryl under the scout, he told
Criss, “We aren’t leaving this tub whole. When we leave, it goes too.”
“When we are a safe distance away, this vessel will become a
rapidly expanding cloud of dust,” Criss assured him.
“I like the way you think. What do I need to do to make that
happen?” Sid wanted there to be no doubt about his expectations.
“No worries,” said Criss. “It will be so.”
They climbed into the scout through the bottom hatch. Sid
sealed it tight and led the way to the crew cabins. Pointing at doors, he said
to Cheryl, “That’s Juice, and that’s me. You’re here.” He nodded toward the
fourth door. “We used the wash bowl from that one to build a cannon. It’s a
great story. Remind me later.”
Sid ducked inside his cabin to have a moment of quiet
reflection. He knew Criss would let him know if there was something that
required his attention. He sat on the floor, closed his eyes, breathed deeply,
and focused himself.
He had a habit of keeping two running lists for every
mission—the good stuff and the bad stuff. In spite of his desire to spend the
moment calming his tensions, he found himself putting items from this job into
categories. He was giddy he had rescued Cheryl, devastated by Jack’s death,
happy to have defeated the Kardish, sad at the loss of the crew of the
Alliance
,
and excited by his strong and growing bond with Criss.
He couldn’t decide if the operation was a win or a loss, and
he knew he would be second-guessing himself for months. And he didn’t care what
others thought. He was his own judge.
When he heard the thrum of the scout’s engines in the
background, it sobered him. They weren’t home yet. He was ahead of himself in
assessing success and failure.
“I am dropping the air pressure outside in preparation for
opening the overhead hangar doors,” said Criss. “The scout’s hatch must now
remain sealed.”
* * *
Criss evaluated the inventory of Kardish
spacecraft, tallying the pros and cons of each, and selected a midsize cargo
transport for their escape vehicle. It was large enough to hold the scout; it
carried enough fuel for the flight back to Earth; and it had the speed to make
the trip in a reasonable time frame.
Using the fragile connection that passed through the
Alliance
,
he fired up a craft on the end of a row of identical ships, lifted it into a
hover, and edged it out through the hangar doors on the far dividing wall. Once
over the box city, he took advantage of Kardish technology embedded in the
craft. The Kardish built their entire infrastructure around crystals. By
design, Criss could configure everything on the cargo transport himself. No
physical presence, either human or Kardish, was needed for him to move or flip
or connect anything.
He reached into the command panel of the transport and
created a direct connection between it and the scout. This freed him from the
cobble of connections, at least when operating this craft. He would still need
the
Alliance
connection for some final tasks, and he counted on it
holding together for just a bit longer.
He guided the transport out to the field and landed it near
the scout, then opened the cargo bay door and prepared to move the scout into
the larger craft. Just then, Sid and the team heard a cry in the distance. It
was the wail of a wounded Kardish soldier.
Criss was tracking the remaining Kardish, and while he
couldn’t identify any threats, he did find one bit of drama in progress. The prince
was chasing a soldier.
* * *
The prince now understood he would
never make it home. In his characteristic petty fashion, he lashed out to
punish those within his reach. He decided, quite arbitrarily, that a particular
soldier was guilty of letting the Earthlings damage his vessel, and the soldier
must die for his failure. The prince would set an example for the others by executing
the soldier himself.
The soldier was raised to revere his prince, but rather than
defend his honor, he turned and ran. During his flight, the soldier stumbled
when he approached the near dividing wall. This delay gave the prince the
opportunity to catch him. The soldier squeezed through a door near the drone
garage just when the prince got close enough to fire a shot. His bolt hit the soldier
in the leg. As he fell, the soldier let out a howl that could be heard for some
distance.
* * *
Criss recognized the spectacle with
the prince as a distracting sideshow. It presented no threat to their plans for
escape, and he chose to end the drama so the team could keep their attention focused
on the tasks ahead. He dispatched two drones to silence the Kardish.
When the commotion ended, Criss convinced the team to board
the scout and seal the hatch. He informed them that they must remain on board while
he depressurized the Kardish vessel. He engaged the scout’s maneuvering engines
and guided it into the transport’s cargo bay. He then locked the scout’s skids
to the deck of the cargo transport so it would not shift during flight and
lifted and sealed the cargo bay door.
With the team confined and blinded, Criss returned to the
inventory of Kardish craft and moved a second cargo ship, identical to the
first, out across the box city. He landed it on the field deck behind the first
transport and opened the side door.
The cubicles of forty drones began to glow as Criss fired
them up. Like soldiers on parade, he directed the drones into the cargo hold of
the second craft, settled them into four neat rows, powered them down, and
sealed the door.
“I am opening the overhead doors,” Criss told the team.
Sid sat behind the scout’s operations bench, with Juice and
Cheryl seated on either side of him. “We’re sitting here blind,” he told Criss.
“Once we are clear, I can allocate resources to connect you
through the cargo transport subsystems.”
“I don’t like being treated like freight.”
Criss could hear the dissatisfaction in Sid’s voice. He
concluded that Sid was expressing an opinion, so he chose not to respond.
He powered up the Kardish transport, lifted it off the deck,
and guided it up through the hangar doors. They emerged into empty space, and
he brought them to a stop.
“I am initiating the destruction of the Kardish vessel. We
are committed.” As he made this announcement, he moved the second transport
with its forty drones through the doors and dispatched it on an aggressive path
to Earth.
Criss stayed near the hangar opening so the scout’s signal
could reach the
Alliance
. For the last time, he used the patchwork of
links. Through it, he accessed the ancillary systems of the Kardish vessel’s
main power plant and disabled all safety protocols. Nothing could stop what he
was about to start.
“Please be certain your restraints are engaged,” he told the
team. “Prepare to accelerate. You will feel an uncomfortable pressure across
your body. It will last three minutes. You will be safe. Here we go in three…two…”
He isolated the fuel feed to the Kardish power plant and
boosted it well beyond the maximum safe limit. The power generation in the
plant ramped quickly in response. He compounded the catastrophic potential by
closing every means of removing heat and energy from the plant. The rapidly
spiraling generation of power was now confined to a single room located
mid-deck in the vessel. Within seconds, the outer walls of the room turned
orange and then glowed red.
“…one.” He engaged the cargo transport’s engines and pushed
them to full thrust. The craft leapt forward, straining every seam as it fought
to create distance from the Kardish vessel.
The noise and vibrations inside the scout were modest, yet
they all suffered the discomfort associated with tremendous acceleration. They
were pushed deep into their seats, and breathing was difficult. Criss had given
them words of warning, but he hadn’t prepared them for this extreme action. All
three gritted their teeth.
As Sid requested, Criss enabled a direct link from the
transport craft to the scout’s operations bench. Criss brought up an image of
the Kardish vessel as they raced away. They all watched the image with
anticipation. Criss estimated that it would take the power plant ninety seconds
to go critical. It happened right on schedule.