We've Seen the Enemy Read online

  Jack worried at the steady stream of enemy fighters exiting the atmosphere. They had all chosen the same flight path. Jack wasn’t surprised, it was more efficient this way, but the numbers scared her.

  “Hotpants, you busy?”

  “Not unduly. At least not yet. What’s up?”

  “They seem to be ignoring us. I’m offended. What do you all say we try the Jackson-Briggs maneuver?”

  “Huh. You read my mind.”

  “Our two wings should be enough.”

  “Have no clue what you’re talking about,” one of Hotpants’ pilots said.

  “I’ll take care of that. Look at Targeting. You’ll find coordinates worked out for each of our ships. Get into position and wait for my signal and do it as nonchalantly as possible.”

  “Jacque, if you must insist on stealing French words, then I must insist that you pronounce them correctly,” piped in Villaneuve, a pilot from WF269.

  “Baguette, my pronouncement is perfectly French and perfectly acceptable,” was Jack’s reply. “And by the way, the correct pronunciation for MY name is ‘Jack’.”

  Jack really liked him and enjoyed the few visits they had. He was an amazing cook and even knew how to bake bread. His call-sign was given him when a fellow pilot once went one insult too far in joking about Villaneuve’s baguettes. He turned and stuffed it so far down the pilot’s throat he almost choked to death. One of his team-mates had to dig out the bread and give him the Heimlich maneuver to clear his passageway, and Baguette spent a week in solitary over it. Since then, everyone except that pilot called him Baguette.

  “Mon dieu! It’s bad enough my country is gone, must you basterdize my language too?!”

  Jack laughed and enjoyed the chance to forget her troubles for a second.“Sorry Baguette, I’ll see to it that I personally apologize later,” she said. Jack ignored the subsequent pleas for insults from the other jealous pilots and concentrated instead on setting things up.

  “Comp, link up with my other wingmen and position us for optimum effect, but keep it…” she avoided the word just to keep Villaneuve quiet, “as pattern-less as possible.”

  “Done,” the comp replied.

  “Navigate, but don’t tip our hand.”

  “Navigating, erratic pattern,” was the comp’s reply. Jack could see the other ships doing the same, each one erratically arriving at the destination the comp had calculated as being the point of maximum effect. Eight ships in a box pattern were optimal for this kind of setup, but they had lost Scratch and had to make do with seven in her group.

  Other groups were coming in and setting up behind them to catch any strays that made it through the trap, while a third group strategically positioned themselves to discourage any alien from breaking their formation.

  “Common guys, lets hurry up. Too many are getting through!” Jack said. She watched as the last guy in her group came into position.

  “Flight Leader Wing 3 Ready!” Hotpants said.

  “On comp’s mark…”

  The Jackson-Brigg web was very effective because each ship’s graviton generator would generate a beam that was augmented exponentially by any other ship that joined the group. Where these invisible beams converged, the effect was phenomenal. Space-time was warped in an area of over 200 meters from the convergence point, and it permanently scrambled the molecular structure of anything biological or organic going through it. Organic ship systems died, on-board computers shorted out, and the beam scrambled alien brain patterns. There was no limit to the number of ships that could contribute to the effect. Put in enough ships and enough power and you could create a temporary singularity. The drawback was the setup itself. It had to be perfect, they needed a minimum number of craft in the exact spots designated with no drift, and those enemy ships had to pass through the intersection point. And this had never been done under combat situation before.

  Jack was hoping that their setup was perfect. Their position so close to the planet had the planet’s gravity constantly tugging at them, and she had to do everything she could to keep her position locked in. She knew the other pilots were doing the same.

  She had no clue as to how this idea had come to her, as complicated as the set-up and details were. The more she thought about it, the more she had doubts. She thought back to when she finally let the idea slip after a night of drinking in a boring poker game. Within one month the idea had made it to Tactical, tried on Tactical’s computer simulations and their ships modified to test the system under field conditions. Every test ended up being successful, but it wasn’t combat and there were so many variables. It was a long-shot, but she knew that if this was going to work it would only work on the bugs. Their hive mentality brought them strengths, but it also brought a very obvious weakness – consistency in their actions based around conservation of resources.

  ‘We’ll soon find out,’ she thought. She peered into the targeting radar and saw the actual convergence point as shown by a superimposed crosshair on her display. The comp had projected it, as it had also projected augmented views of enemy ships and other information. At the moment she was close enough to see the stream of individual alien ships already going through the convergence point.

  “Ready on one,” came a voice over the comm. “Three,” “Seven,” and so on until finally all had turned on their generators. “On my Mark…Now!” Jack said as her graviton beam engaged.

  At first it appeared as if there was no effect. The alien craft passed through, and their inertia kept them going whether or not they had power. But instead of breaking off into wings further down their flight path, they kept going in the same direction as their ships drifted through space. A few ships started to rotate as the graviton beam fried their computers in the middle of minute course corrections, but she hoped that none of the aliens exiting the atmosphere would notice.

  “Power down to 72%,” the ship comp said. “At this rate, you can continue this process for another fifteen minutes before power levels reach reserves.”

  “What is the launch situation with the planet?” Jack asked.

  “My system indicates over six hundred launches have now occurred.”

  Six hundred! Jack couldn’t believe it. How did they miss this Hive? Somebody had dropped the ball and put them all in danger.

  She looked and saw another stream of alien fighters exiting the atmosphere at another vantage point, but it was now too late for more ships to organize into this Jackson-Briggs maneuver.The swarm of Bogeys made their fighter squadron appear miniscule by comparison, but she was hopeful they could make a dent in the incoming throng of fighters before the ants realized what was happening.

  She looked at the inactive stream of alien attack craft that had passed through the convergence point, and then realized they were going right in the direction of one of the WF ships a few thousand kilometers away.

  ‘Could it be?’ Jack thought… “Comp, project the flight path of enemy ships going through the convergence point. Will any cross paths with our WF ships?”

  “Calculating…Yes. At least 62 and counting are expected to reach WF287.”

  “Send a warning message to WF287. The bugs’ll be on to us if they see this.”

  “I will, Jack.”

  Jack concentrated on what was happening at the convergence point. The point was now about 230 meters in diameter and growing, although Jack didn’t know why. Extra attack fighters not engaging enemies were hanging around hoping to get any strays that didn’t go through the convergence point, and they were being kept busy as they tried to keep alien fighters off of Jack and her group. She was itching to get into the fight herself, not being used to just sitting around.

  She watched ship after ship go through and she was happy to see that most actually hit the convergence point, but something wasn’t right. More and more ships were escaping and every once in a while she caught a flash of something, although her scanners picked up nothing.

  “Comp, verify Tactical status again.” She knew she wo
uld be alerted if there was something wrong, but she was certain there was something out there that Tactical wasn’t picking up.

  “As I said before, Targeting and Tactical is operating within normal parameters.” Jack was surprised at the Comp’s reply and figured that the IT guys were at it again, changing the programming without notice.

  “Max resolution on the area where the alien ships are exiting the atmosphere and where they’re closest together.”

  She looked carefully at the display for a few moments but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just as she was about to request normal resolution, something caught her eye. “Hold image and replay last five seconds,” she said.

  The image froze, and then replayed. She could now clearly see stars disappearing and reappearing and a faint and brief glint of light.

  “Hold! Reverse frame by frame. Freeze!”

  “Augment, highlight shades of black.” After a moment the clear outline of an alien vessel showed up.

  “So what do you make of that?” Jack said somewhat sarcastically.

  “Analyzing…Comparing video log, give me a few seconds…They are objects…they are alien craft. Their lengths are the same, at 11.3 meters. The probability is high that they do not have gravitic drives – their rate of speed is well below escape velocity of 5.85 kilometers per second, and I detect no signatures or emanations from the ships other then visual.”

  Jack was satisfied that she had been right, and was about to notify the WF ships when the Comp added, “You have sharp eyes.”

  This was not normal. “You feeling ok?”

  “I am within normal parameters. How are you?”

  Jack laughed. “How many craft?”

  “According to the video log, thirty six. There are probably many more,” the computer replied.

  “WF221, Flight Leader Wing three. New enemy craft detected, visual only! They do not, I repeat, they do not show up on Tactical! Comp, send this message with a visual image to all WF’s and fighter pilots. Urgent.”

  “Done, Captain.”

  Jack concentrated on the stream of enemy fighters still coming from the surface, and sure enough, there were brief flashes, one after the other. The alien craft were unlike anything she had seen. It was difficult to make them out because they were completely black, with no markings and no vapor trail.

  Reports started coming in from other pilots querying her on the visual.

  “All wingmen, I repeat, I’m getting a visual only on black alien craft, no IF, No radar, transparent right across the spectrum. Other then visual, there is no way to see them! No gravitic drives, which mean they piggyback on larger fighters and then break formation as soon as they leave the atmosphere.”

  “This is Noose. How many, Jack, and how the hell can I identify something invisible?”

  “My Comp says at least thirty-six, probably a lot more. And I’m not sure,” Jack replied. “They’re black, of course. I’ve got an idea that I’m checking out… I’ll let everyone know soon. In the meantime if anyone else has any ideas let me know… How’s it going out there anyway?”

  “Gravedigger here. Hot and heavy, just like you.”

  “You’ll be digging your own grave soon if you keep that up,” Jack replied. “Watch your six. The double suns can be your enemies just as much as your friends.”

  “You pussies done with your little holiday there?” came a voice with no call sign. Jack had to think about that one. It sounded familiar, but she was having a hard time picking it out. “Bones, is that you?”

  “The one and only!”

  Jack had a rush of memories from an old fling she had with him. He was every girl’s bad boy wish and she fell in love with him the moment she looked into his eyes. They called him ‘Bones’ because he was always breaking them, living life at the edge and hitting hard every chance he got. He would have made Fleet Commander had he been less reckless and able to control his temper. They both understood the rule. Fighter pilots don’t get married, and they had mutually agreed that they still had too much fight in them to give it all up. In the end, it was a good thing, Jack thought. His temper would do him in, and if not, then it would have certainly destroyed their marriage. Still, she had a soft spot for him and wouldn’t mind seeing him again if she had the chance.

  “Are you asking for help, Oh Mighty One?” Jack asked sweetly.

  “Screw you.”

  “I will!” Someone piped up anonymously.

  “Shut up!” they both said at the same time. “No, I am NOT asking for help. Just don’t want your sweet ass to turn to mush as you sit there babysitting a bunch of dumb aliens!”

  Jack understood exactly what Bones was saying. “Comp, get me a visual of the action around Bones, both enemy and friendly.” Comp displayed the images, and Jack was surprised at the number of aliens that had made it through the web. “Give me a number. How many ships out there?”

  “212 Enemy, 86 Friendly, not including those tied up in the Jackson-Briggs web. Presently, my sensors detect alien ships lifting off the planet at the rate of 17 per minute.”

  “Shit. Anyone out there needing a rest?” Jack asked. She didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one.

  “Anyone out there too damaged to the point that it would be stupid and suicidal to keep on fighting that could come and take my place?”

  “Jack, Piper’s ship is heavily damaged, but it can still generate a graviton beam. I’m sending her to you. Does this mean, by the way, that you’re coming to watch me fight?”

  “Sure and yes,” Jack said.

  “Jack, my ship is fine and I’m not coming,” Piper chimed in. “Find some beginner to take your place.”

  “Piper, you’re going,” Bones said.

  “Make me,” Piper replied and Jack could see her using her last missile successfully on an enemy fighter.

  “Piper, this is a direct order. You are to replace Jack, now.”

  “Might as well come Piper, or he’ll make sure you never fly again,” Jack said. She had never met her, but she admired her spunk. In the end though, Piper would not refuse a direct order. Jack noticed Piper starting on a flight path that had her pass by every alien ship along the way.

  Within five minutes, Piper was ready to take her position.

  “Coming now.”

  “Well, then. It’s about time you had a chance to learn…” and Bones’ voice cut off. Looking at Tactical, she could see three alien vessels in the spot where his used to be. The green ‘Friendly’ triangle had disappeared. Her heart sank, and she yelled, “Bones! Bones come in! Damn you Bones, answer the damn call! Bones!” Jack sat there staring obliviously at the screen.

  “Jack, an ejected suit matches his beacon,” her Comp said. Jack waited while her ship and Piper’s switched, an elaborate maneuver done to prevent the beam’s collapse. Once it was done, Piper said, “Jack, go get him, don’t let him die!”

  Jack could tell by her plea that they had something going together. She felt a tinge of jealousy but quickly put it off and said, “I will Piper, don’t worry! Those bastards are NOT going to get him if I can help it!” She accelerated as quickly as she could on an intercept course.

  “Noose, Wing 9 to Jack. Just blew up one of your ghost ships.”

  “Tell me about it Noose.”

  “Not much to tell, Jack. No big explosion when I hit it. It just shattered into pieces. Lots of gas escaping as it shattered but that’s it. It certainly doesn’t have any atmospheric drives. Couldn’t really see it at all, I actually had another alien ship in my sights when it suddenly disappeared. Thanks to you, I realized I had one of your ghost ships blocking my view and I fired. Does that kill still count?”

  “Ha. Did you see any exhaust, or anything our comps can lock on to?”

  “There was that blast of gas, but it was so diffuse it looked more like an old maneuvering rocket. You know, no flames, just a pressurized propellant. Other than that, no heat signature or anything. I checked the debris pretty thoroughly, and ther
e just wasn’t much equipment there. Must have piggy backed like you said.”

  “Ok. Thanks for the info Noose, good hunting. Jack out.” She turned once again to Tactical and Bones’ beacon was flashing brightly.

  “Comp, distance to beacon?”

  “127,000 Kms.”

  “Shit. Another 5 minutes at full throttle. Bones, hold on just a little more…” she said out loud, knowing he couldn’t hear.

  Jack was paying close attention to the area where his suit was supposed to be, but at this distance she knew she couldn’t see anything. A dark shadow, blacker then the blackness of space caught her eye as she flew, and she instinctively knew it must be one of those new alien craft. She had flown past it, with the ship itself just off her port bow. Figuring that it was setting itself up behind her, Jack asked her comp to do a deep scan immediately behind her and at the same time started purposely shorting out her starboard directional drive. Her ship started jumping erratically and shimming sideways.

  “Try getting a lock now. You must be pretty darn sluggish to operate with gas propellants only.”

  She got ready for the intense G’s she was about to do, and knowing she would momentarily red out from the instant directional change, she instructed the comp on what to do next.

  “Ready…NOW!” Her ship immediately rose 30 meters and then stopped dead in its tracks after firing the retro-rockets. After three seconds and just as Jack regained eye-sight, her ship dropped back down 30 meters. Jack came to and started looking for the alien ship that should have passed her and was probably now trying to avoid being directly in front.

  “Comp, IR scan for a… crystallized powder contrail!” Jack had to think about that one. “It’s pressurized, so it must be colder than the surrounding space.”

  Her comp alerted her just as she glimpsed the dark silhouette of blacked out space slightly to her right. Sure enough, thanks to the parameters she had asked for, she could just see a diffuse stream of gas and miniscule crystals actively ejecting out of the side of the alien craft as it tried hard to hide from her. She quickly lined up and fired a salvo of 15MM rounds. The alien tried to evade, but the craft was too sluggish. Some of the rounds penetrated the pressurized fuel tanks and the alien craft burst into thousands of tiny fragments in the resulting explosion.