We've Seen the Enemy Read online

  “Yes,” Anderson said as left the bridge.

  Knowing he had no choice, Dietrich confirmed the order and the bridge crew resigned themselves to their inevitable death.

  ***

  Jack was startled by the combat klaxons, but they only meant one thing as she sprinted down the hallway to the launch bay. It was a mad scramble as everyone got ready to reach their stations, surprise showing on almost all their faces. Ever since Abadon destroyed the alien home-world, no one really expected to have to engage aliens in any serious fight. Jack didn’t know what to think. It’s true that they were hive oriented, but she guessed they could also function far from home independently of their queen. Intel kept quiet on the matter of course. As the saying goes, if you want to know anything, DON’T ask Intel.

  As she ran, she thought of the brave crew that accomplished the impossible. From the very beginning no one thought that the mission objective could be achieved. Antimatter was extremely difficult to make, and it was almost impossible to store properly and safely for any length of time. At Luna 13, when ten ounces of antimatter reacted, the 180 petajoules obliterated not only the station, but the moon itself, killing over one thousand people in the process. But to store, transport, and somehow thread their way through enemy defenses and actually reach their target was a true achievement, an incredible win in a long string of losses. Jack would like to have met these heroes. The Russians were still ecstatically celebrating over their dead comrade, a crew member called Ivanov on the fateful ship. Jack even joined them for a day of drinking from their very well designed still. What would happen now? What would the aliens do? She didn’t know, but after what happened to Mike she was ready to kick some ass and find out.“Nancy, Jack here. Did you check my suit? I had that interface problem the last time…” Jack waited at the wall comm while Nancy searched her memory.

  “My Drop Suit? You know, suit to ship interface…got a lot of static, my ship would miss a beat…” Jack added, frustrated that Nancy couldn’t remember.

  “Oh yeah, that’s right,” Nancy replied. “The terminals were corroded. Too much moisture and the oxygen was a little rich in the storage compartment. Checked your other links too. Should be fine. Let me know if you have a problem.”

  Nancy’s voice carried over to her suit comm as Jack suited up. Within seconds she was being dropped into her ship by the overhead carriage when she heard Nancy’s last words. A firefight was not the time to discover any problems with her interface connections.

  “Just one more question Nancy. This morning, my student had some problem with his thruster. Any idea who had serviced the ship last?”

  “Who was it?” Nancy said, as the launcher engaged.

  Jack chose her words carefully. “It was Mike.”

  “Mike, as in Mike the one who…?”

  “Yeah. That Mike.” There was a pause and Jack activated Tactical and Targeting while she waited.

  “Just checked. Nothing on the logs. Must be corrupted data.”

  “R-i-g-h-t…” Jack replied. It was no surprise Nancy wouldn’t say. It was common practice to prevent revenge and to keep things going smoothly. The person in question would normally be reprimanded and dealt with privately.

  “Nancy, he was only 13 dammit!”

  “And now he’s dead. What do you expect to do? Someone MAYBE didn’t notice an ignition wire screw loose out of the thousands we have to check every week, and you’re…what? Gonna nail our ass?”

  Jack knew she was right, and hated herself for it all the more.

  CHAPTER 2

  Action

  WF221 as it was commonly known had been approaching a planet called Beta-9 in the Andromeda Galaxy, a few million light years from where they figured old Earth should be. She was part of a collection of 22 ships assigned to clean up this area, over 52 million parsecs of space, and this put them somewhere in the vicinity of their old home-world, a place they hadn’t seen in over 700 years.

  Although space was incredibly vast and the task seemed impossible, jump drives and stolen cartographic information gave them all the information they needed. Ants were extremely organized, especially when it came to cataloguing appropriate planets for their use, and few planets suited their needs. They never established bases on planets or moons that did not have the 4 basics: stability, atmosphere, a food source and water, and this cut down the number of planets that humans needed to search and clean up on. They had recently found out that this planet itself was a lightly used ant base, something they should have been able to take care of quickly.

  “Jack, why is this called Beta-9? Cartography has this as…(M31)NGC 6822-6 and Beta-9 in brackets. This is the sixth planet from the sun according to Tactical,” one of her wing mates said.

  “Looked it up. Beta-9 is an old Earth name. Was buried somewhere in Cartography. Rumor has it that Beta meant Program Beta from old Earth and that ‘9’ referred to colony number 9 established in the exodus.”

  “Hot damn, Jack Hammer! You’re just a bag of useful information to-day!” came a voice that took Jack a moment to recognize.

  “Get lost Pickles,” she replied. Pickles was Lt. Samuelson’s unofficial call sign because of his pockmarked face.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, there are no official records of this other than the name. Asked Intel, and they were as useful as a bag of shit.” She laughed at her earlier attempt to look up the info, and the blank stares she got as the Intel officer with the deep set, tiny eyes repeated the well worn phrase, “I’m sorry, we have nothing to back up these unsubstantiated rumors.”

  “Jack, we’re at the designated coordinates, wingmen assembled minus one,” her Ship Comp said.

  ‘Bet I know who the one is,’ she said to herself as she looked around. “Comp, we’re at coordinates. We should have received an info dump by now. Why am I not seeing anything?”

  “There have been no updates,” Ship comp said, referring to the Tactical dump the superior sensors on board a WF ship would transmit to all fighters.

  “Comm to WF221. This is Flight Leader, Wing 3. I’ve got no dump. Where’s my info?”

  “Flight Leader, there is no info dump. Keep your eyes open.”

  ‘What the hell…?’ “Say again…”

  There was a pause, and the Comm Officer’s voice, now lowered, came back on. “Captain, there is to be no official info dump. We have been assigned to another quadrant while you clean up in your area. Um, expect…heavy action.”

  ‘Expect heavy action,’ Jack said to herself. ‘What the hell does that mean?’ “Can you at least give us Status on enemy fighters?”

  Another pause. “Wing Leader, this is Dietrich. We have numerous bogeys and surface launches, out of your range but should be visible soon. Your orders are to engage surface launchers and keep them off our back. We’ll be busy with our own mission objective in a separate quadrant. Standard search on these coordinates until called for. Keep your eyes open and good hunting.”

  “Confirmed.”

  Jack was extremely curious. Dietrich had given her direct orders, and it was obvious something was up. She had a ton of questions but knew she wasn’t going to get anything from WF221. Turning her attention to other matters, she yelled, “Scratch, where the hell are you?”

  Jason was always late. The other wingmen laughed but said nothing as the wing grouped together minus one and set a search pattern on the coordinates given. As she searched her mind drifted back to their fight. Over two hundred years were spent in fleeing and regrouping after the initial holocaust. 400 years were spent building, fighting and losing ground, and the last one hundred on a last ditch effort by a group of scientists and wishful thinkers to destroy the alien home-world.

  It seemed to have worked, at first. Any aliens Jack and the others came across were easy pickings. They appeared lost without their home-world, crawling around half-comatose, bumping into things, tripping over themselves, and generally being easy targets. Reports came in across the board from all WF ships that morale was
the highest it had ever been as everyone took advantage of the opportunity to get rid of what was once a dangerous foe, a near destroyer of their home-world, but now only a galaxy pest. It was a free-for-all that gave everyone bragging rights. But now Jack felt squirmy in her seat, and her gut told her that something was wrong.

  Her wingmen were in a wide search pattern, strung out like jewels five kilometers apart from each other. She decided to shake things up a bit and did a quick roll left, inverted and spun her ship 180 degrees as she let her momentum keep her moving forward.

  “Bogeys Bogeys Bogeys! Targeting is zero!” She yelled as she stared an alien interceptor in the face. The surprise almost made her heart stop. As she reacted, the alien got on her six and dropped two DB’s. That was surprising, seeing as this actually required some thinking.

  “Flight leader Wing 3, to Tactical! I’ve got visual on bogey’s but nothing on Tactical. They’re hot and I’ve got DB’s on my ass. Evading and returning fire. To all Wing Leaders, it’s a free for all, boys!” She could hear the whooping and hollering of her wing-mates as she turned the comm down.

  ‘Damn that Nancy for not having repaired her targeting radar.’ She’d have to settle matters later. “Comp, what’s wrong with Targeting?” Jack said into her suit mike as she continued trying to evade the two missiles and the invisible enemy fighter.

  “Nothing, Jack. The unit is operating within normal parameters,” her Ship Comp replied.

  “Then why is the bogey behind me not registering?”

  Comp didn’t reply as it computed variables.

  “Invisible bogeys…and now bullets everywhere…” she said as she heard the clacking of flechetes against her ship.

  Jack looked around but couldn’t see the alien craft. The DB’s were homing in again, having done a wide circle and a corrective maneuver. They showed up on her holographic Targeting screen as did her ‘Friendly’s’, but no alien ship.

  At this point 221’s shields were intermittently coming on and off, but the distance was too great to see why. They had taken up a position in LPO, thirty nine kilometers away.

  ‘How the hell did they slip through?’ Jack thought, presuming enemy fighters were attacking. She should have seen them fly by her. “Damn you Nancy! Comp, check Tactical again. There’s gotta be something wrong.”

  “Jack, Tactical is operating within normal parameters. I have confirmed with our wing ship comps, and no enemy vessel is registering on any Tactical.”

  Jack was confused, but she got distracted as she watched WF221’s shields coming on permanently. From now on, communication would be sporadic. A quick, well timed and almost imperceptible blink of the shields allowed messages and visual to be transmitted and received, but there were delays depending on the timing of the encryption algorithm that controlled the messaging and the intensity of the attack.

  “Anyone out there who can tell me what the hell’s going on with WF221?”

  “Acid here, Jack. WF221 has destroyed the Orbital Platform and is being attacked by two Capital ships.”

  “What Orbital Platform? And what Cap ships?”

  “We didn’t know either,” Acid replied. “Showed up on Tactical as we did a fly-by. We’re assigned to attack Cap ship two.”

  “Two? You mean there’s two Cap ships?

  “Jack, there’s four. Didn’t you get your info dump?”

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Jack said to herself. “Jack to WF221 Tactical! Why weren’t we informed of the orbital base or Cap ships?”

  She waited for an answer, knowing the packet would take time to work its way over. In the meantime, the DB’s were still trying to lock in.

  “All Flight Leaders! Multiple Bogey launches detected! Info dump transmitted. Attack at will and be careful. WF221 out.”

  Jack confirmed the planet launches on her Tactical but was upset they hadn’t answered her. As it was, things were busy enough.

  Having done a wide spiral roll now, Jack spun the ship 180 degrees again and tapped the forward thrusters to stop dead. Sure enough, a sleek black craft Jack recognized as her attacker silently slid past, going too fast to correct itself for her maneuver. She did a manual target and shot at the interceptor that Tactical still didn’t register. The sudden maneuver wasn’t the best for aiming, but she did graze the side of the ship with a 15MM round that tore through the canopy and worked its way through the skin and forward internals of the craft.

  Looking at Targeting, there was still no attacker, but the disablers had turned and were now coming straight to her. She tapped the thrusters again to glide past the now dead interceptor and spun around to watch the action as the momentum kept her ship going. She watched targeting carefully and smiled as the disablers glued themselves onto the alien craft, now powerless and unable to identify itself to its own missiles.

  Satisfied this alien wasn’t going anywhere, she matched the alien craft’s drift and said, “Comp, mark position and drift. I want a closer look at this later. Time for scum number two.”

  As she turned, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she reacted instantly, vectoring the Rapier down 10 meters as she glanced over at Tactical. Her ship, already groaning from the quick maneuver, now rocked slightly as debris passed by her side windows.

  “Hope you’re not talking to me”, piped in Jason, late to join formation because of her punch and his drinking binge the night before.

  Jack was a little confused but her ship comp alerted her that a trailing Bogey had just been eliminated.

  She smiled but said, “Might as well be, after I’m done with you. Just like you to show up when the party’s half over, Scratch.”

  “Is that how you treat someone who just swatted a fly off your ass? Honestly, you would think there would be more…Whoa, another one just dropped in. It’s apples for the pickin’ friends, apples for the pickin’…” he added as his voice trailed off.

  Jack laughed. Nobody had seen apples in decades, she thought.

  Jason was in a Klinger. It was ungraceful and unremarkable, and usually chosen when you’re too late to get the interesting stuff. It was an atmospheric entry vehicle though, and definitely useful.

  He got his call name because he had the bad habit of scratching his balls in public. Jack secretly thought he was the best looking pilot on the fleet, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. At first she thought it was his bad habits, but she had to admit that almost every guy she knew had the same bad habits. Eventually she came to realize that it was his lack of responsibility and his careless attitude. It didn’t help that he was so cocky around her either. In any case, she tried not to think about him but they rubbed shoulders so much that he seemed to somehow creep up into her mind.

  Having said that, he was an exceptional pilot and knew how to think like an alien, and he and Jack were the only two people she knew that usually guessed what the aliens were going to do before they did it. Her friends called them the Dream Team, partly to bug her but also because their ability to second-guess the aliens’ move freaked everyone out.

  This time though she didn’t. Jack noticed something odd when a shadow crossed her canopy. Arcturius’ double sun was glaringly white, and the shadow was long and slender. Recognition prompted immediate action, and Jack narrowly missed a stream of flechetes delivered by a skipper, a sleek atmospheric multipurpose alien craft. She looked at Tactical and realized that the skipper was obviously there and she cursed herself for not paying attention.

  “Scratch, there are hundreds of planet launches!” Jack shouted as she turned to engage.

  “More for me,” he replied, but Jack could hear worry in his voice. “Number 7 just ate bullets for brea…”and his comm suddenly went offline.

  “Scratch!” she yelled, but got no reply on the comm. She turned just in time to see Jason’s Klinger spin uncontrollably toward Beta-9 where they were to re-supply, with both his port maneuvering thrusters shredded.

  “WF221, Flight Leader Wing 3. Wingman down, Wingman down! L
ast known position, entering upper atmosphere of Beta-9, ship disabled!”

  Jack knew the packet would be delayed until it popped through. She had her own troubles now as she watched his ship start to glow as he entered the upper atmosphere. The skipper was way too quick to be out-maneuvered by her Rapier so she played injured and flew erratically, tapping her maneuvering jets just enough to make it tough for the skipper to lock in. Flechetes had fired by too close for comfort, but none actually touched her. He was getting close though, and her defense comp was blaring continuously now that the alien had lock. At the last second she stopped suddenly, lifted the safety and simultaneously dropped two mines, then instantly vectored down 60 meters. She rotated her ship back up just in time to see the alien craft neatly avoid her mines and rotate 180 degrees to face her. Her mines were rocket propelled and magnetic, but the skipper’s crystallic carbon composition didn’t give the mines anything to lock into. She knew it had been a long shot and had hoped the alien would have bumped into them, but it didn’t happen.

  Tactical listed 200 meters distance to the Skipper now lining up for a shot, but she corkscrewed up towards it as she hit the thrusters and gave the skipper a solid smack before it could complete positioning. The cold carbon of the alien ship shattered, and both alien and shards of ship floated by her as she smiled.

  “Jack, Info Dump shows a new wave of multiple launches coming from the planet surface,” the ship comp said.

  Looking at Tactical, she could see that although there were multiple launch sites, most were coming from one section. The more she looked, the more launches she saw. There seemed to be no letup. “WF221 Tactical, any number on total launches?

  A few seconds later, Tactical responded: “Copy. Confirming over 300 laun…” The communication abruptly cut off, obviously because the shields popped back on earlier than expected, which was unusual.