Maximus marched onto the bridge, his bridge, and sat down. “Set Condition One. Tactical, I need to know who just snuck in our back door.”
“We’re working, Captain, but the orbital overlook platforms are the only assets we have on the far side, and they can’t give us much.”
“Probes?”
“We can orbit one into line of sight in sixteen minutes, but if we do that, the bogey will know they’re blown.”
“Hold on to the probe. Let them think they have the drop on us.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Com, get Magellan’s XO on the whisker laser.”
Gruber’s bust coalesced to Maximus’s left. “Go ahead, Bucephalus.”
“Commander, our orbital assets have detected a hyperspace window on the planet’s far side. Mr. Fletcher has confirmed it. We’re not alone.”
“Did you ID the bogey yet, sir?”
“No, in fact we have almost no information on the target at all. Our platforms aren’t pointed in the right direction, and retasking them would announce that we’re looking for them.”
“Nothing at all? Not even IR or a mass estimate?”
“Nope, nothing at all. Does that sound like anyone you know?”
Gruber’s mind had been leaning in that direction as well. “I’m afraid so. If we take Mr. D’armic at his word, then the fuzzy anomaly is our only suspect in the massacre.”
“And if they’ve followed us here, it probably isn’t to swap cheesecake recipes.”
“No, sir. To put it mildly.”
“Ready your ship for action as best you can, Commander. Make sure your shield dish is facing the bogey before the shooting starts. It will give you some protection. Bucephalus will take point to cover you, but tell your helmsman not to drift outside of our defensive envelope.”
“Understood, Captain.”
An alert siren called out from the tactical station. “Sir, the Gargoyles have just picked up something making planet-fall.”
“The bogey?”
“No, sir. They have hard tracking on it, and it’s tiny. Less than thirty meters long, probably a shuttle.”
“They’re going after our teams on the ground,” Gruber said.
Maximus’s hand gripped the arms of his chair. “Tactical, can we send reinforcements?”
“No, sir. We’ve already passed our launch window for this orbit.”
Something not unlike despair fell over Gruber’s face. “Then Ridgeway is on her own.”
“Not alone, Commander,” Maximus said. “I’ve got bored marines on the surface. There’s nothing as dangerous as bored marines.”
* * *
Harris watched the alien drop-ship through the scope of his M-118. Even under magnification, it looked little bigger than a bird. The rifle’s range finder gave him distance and velocity numbers. They were coming in hot.
“Fast-mover coming in hot from the east. Eight minutes, ten at best. Give me some options, people.”
Corporal Tillman was the first to jump in. “The assault shuttle has air-to-air combat capabilities. Have Simmons dust off and intercept. He can draw them off, maybe even destroy them if he’s lucky.”
“And if he’s not, we lose our ride back to Bucephalus.” Harris looked at Allison. “Can we all fit in your shuttle?”
“I’m afraid not. Even if we ditched all the equipment and you left your toys behind, we’d still be short a seat.”
“Including my pilot?”
“Of course it—” Allison shivered as the implication of the question struck her. “Right. Without your pilot, we might be able to make enough room if no one minds being friendly.”
“If it came to that, getting friendly would be the least of our problems. Still, it doesn’t seem like a good risk. We can deal with their drop-ship once it’s on the ground. I’m going to tell Simmons to make like a hole in the forest. I suggest your pilot do the same.”
Allison nodded. Harris scanned the area, looking for defensible positions to stash his civilians. One of the spires caught his eye.
He pointed to the looming structure. “Corporal Tillman, I bet you and Lyska can’t schlep into sniper position in that tower before our guests arrive.”
“I had no idea you were such a poor gambler, sir.”
“You’d better go collect, then.”
Tillman and Lyska saluted and disappeared into the grass. “All right, everyone else dig in. Implanted coms only from this point on.”
The teams spent several tense minutes in silence. Harris’s people were busy checking their weapons and adjusting the fit of their armor, while Allison’s people were busy keeping fear from eating what was left of their wits. To his credit, Felix kept it together and even helped the marines build a makeshift firebase in front of the bar. After the longest eight minutes any of them had lived through, time ran out.
Harris shot Felix and Allison a reassuring smile. Here they come. Let’s roll. With that, Harris and the rest of his fire team switched on their active camo and became mirages.
The drop-ship came into view overhead. Its hull was black as deep space and shaped like an armored fish from a long-forgotten ocean. It made one lazy circle around the area, hunting for the best LZ before settling into the courtyard with a whisper.
A heavy plate slid aside silently. Shadows poured out the door and darted in different directions, taking up positions. They were fast, but not unnaturally so. As soon as the last shadow exited, the door swiped shut and the drop-ship returned to the sky.
They have adaptive camouflage, too? Allison asked with a thought.
Sure looks that way, Harris replied. He ducked back behind the improvised wall and held his rifle over the top. The scope fed an image and ranging data into OLED contacts, letting him see without exposing his valuable head to return fire.
Oh, crap.
What’s wrong?
I can see where they should be from the grass trails, but I can’t get a good range and lock. Tillman, is your range finder locking them up?
Negative, LT. That’s a negative lockup. We’ll have to sight the old-fashioned way.
Great. What could jam a laser?
Meta materials, Felix thought. They bend visible light around themselves and make anything inside effectively invisible.
Yeah, but aren’t they supposed to only work up to a few cubic centimeters?
Maybe these guys don’t know about centimeters. It might even be how they cloak the mother ship.
They’re sure in a hurry, Lyska said from his spotter’s perch with Tillman. They aren’t even covering each other.
Lyska was right. The shadows charged forward heedlessly with none of the practiced, deliberate movements of a trained squad. They were either supremely confident or embarrassingly sloppy. Then, as one, they stopped moving and settled into positions just over a hundred meters in front of where Harris’s and Allison’s teams sat.
One of the shadows stood ramrod straight in the middle of the boulevard. It threw back a shroud with a flutter and became visible for the first time. It was enormous; the purple grass that came up to Harris’s waist barely covered the creature’s thigh. Every square centimeter of the beast’s bulk looked sharp, like a bipedal ox coated in razor blades. The most striking feature was the eyes. They were placed wide, facing forward, a hallmark of predators the galaxy over. But, more to the point, they glowed the bright crimson of freshly spilled blood.
Wow, somebody could use eye drops, Felix said.
Why are they glowing?
Cybernetic, has to be.
Wonderful. Harris’s train of thought was broken by a booming voice that sounded like a building implosion. “Humans, I am Zek’nel of the Turemok Pacification Force. You are hereby restrained under suspicion of the geocides of Culpus-Alam and Okim. Throw down your weapons and walk forward with your appendages clearly visible. You have twenty rakims to obey, or we will force your compliance.”
Tillman spoke up. I have a clear shot, LT. Permission to fire?
Hold fire, Tillman. Bucephalus, Harris. We’ve been issued an ultimatum to surrender by enemy forces. Requesting permission to go weapons-free.
Tom, they’re moving to flank us. Felix pointed to their left where three shadows slowly circled around.
Units two and three, spread out to counter them. Bucephalus, this is Harris, permission to fire? Bucephalus? Static answered him. He switched channels and tried again. More static. Shit! We’re being jammed.
Out of the corner of his eye, Harris saw Felix looking at Jacqueline. She’d drawn her knees to her chest and was taking deep long breaths to calm herself. Felix’s worry for her was almost palpable.
We’re running out of time. I’ll try to buy you some. Felix stood before Harris could reach out to stop him. “Whoa, time-out there, sir.”
“Felix, sit down!” Harris barked in a harsh whisper, but Felix brushed him off.
“You wish to surrender, human?”
“No, I just wanted to know what a rakim is.”
“It is our smallest standard unit of time.”
“Like a second? Well, how many seconds are in twenty rakims?”
The giant, pointy alien had been thrown off his rhythm. “I don’t know, exactly. How long is a second?”
“One Mississippi.”
Now Zek’nel was really confused. “A ‘Mississippi’ is equal to a second?”
“No, it … never mind. Why don’t you count out the rakims?”
“Why don’t you just surrender now?”
“Now wait one sec … rakim. You said we had twenty rakims. Are you going to give us twenty or not?”
“You’ve already had seventeen.”
“Yeah, but that was before we knew what they were. You could have been talking about magic beans for all we knew.”
“All right, fine. But this delay is pointless, human.” The Turemok set his feet and crossed his arms in annoyance. “Twenty … nineteen … eighteen…”
Harris shook his head and used the time. Captain Ridgeway, I can’t raise the Bucephalus. The decision falls to you. May we fire?
Allison’s voice filled his head. You want me to order your men to kill these … people, without even talking to them?
“Seventeen…”
They’ve already done the talking, ma’am.
“Sixteen…”
Please, ma’am, the tactical situation is getting worse. We can’t wait.
“Fifteen … fourteen…”
Harris and the rest of the unseen marines stared at Allison while the conflict played out inside her head.
“Thirteen…,” the monster said. “Ah, what comes after thirteen?”
“Oh, that’s a tricky one. It’s twelve,” Felix said helpfully.
“Why isn’t it twoteen?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. It’s just always been twelve.”
“Twelve, thank you … eleven…”
Something in Allison shifted ever so quietly. We’re supposed to be peaceful explorers.
Harris dipped his head. I know, ma’am. But we didn’t choose this. They did.
“Ten … Nine…”
Ma’am, your orders?
Allison’s eyes hardened. Lieutenant, light them up.
Yes, ma’am. Sniper team, take your shot.
From a hair over eight hundred meters away and nine stories up, Tillman fired. Before the sound of the shot even reached him, a 9.6-millimeter, 485-grain, antimaterial bullet struck Zek’nel, passed completely through his chest, and out the front with a puff of turquoise blood.
He blinked and then started looking around for the shot’s origin.
Felix was troubled by the alien’s blasé reaction to being hit by fifteen thousand joules of kinetic energy. Um, don’t they traditionally fall down now?
Harris shook his head with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. Tough bastard. Captain Ridgeway, take your team and fall back inside the building. Rifle team, weapons free. Fire at will.