A Learning Experience

Chapter Fifteen

Shadow Warrior, Earth Orbit

Steve had spent days studying how the aliens waged war, only to discover that there were as many ideas on how to fight as there were spacefaring alien races. Only a tenth of known intelligent races, according to the database, had actually developed spacefaring technology on their own — and only a handful had developed FTL before they were discovered by someone else — but there were still quite a few ideas. The only reassuring note was that the Horde didn’t seem to be very competent at space combat, no matter how capable they were on the ground. But with two starships — if there were two starships — coming towards Earth, they would definitely have the numbers advantage.

“Sound red alert,” he said, as he sat down in the chair he’d fabricated to replace the Subhorde Commander’s throne. “All hands to battle stations.”

Mongo smirked. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

Steve glowered at his back, then linked into the interface, accessing the starship’s tactical systems directly. They weren’t designed to actually fight the ship, he’d discovered, but they did handle issues that moved too rapidly for organic brains to comprehend. The two contacts were still racing towards the edge of the solar system, the gravity-waves announcing their arrival speeding out ahead of them. It would be nearly an hour, the interface noted, before the enemy starships arrived at Earth.

He disengaged, then looked over at Charles. “Bring the assault teams onboard and issue weapons,” he ordered. “And then prepare them, as best as possible, to board and storm another alien ship or two.”

“Understood,” Charles said. He hesitated, then leaned forward. “Are you going to alert the President?”

Steve hadn’t considered it until Charles brought it up. Should he alert the President? But what could the President do? It would take days to bring the American military to full alert — and besides, it wasn’t as if it posed any real threat to the Hordesmen. All they’d have to do was stay in orbit and drop rocks on any centres of resistance. After a few hours of constant bombardment, the remainder of the human race would be begging to surrender. No, there was nothing the President could do. But should he be told anyway?

It would be a gesture of trust, Steve knew; the President had wanted to be kept in the loop. But it would only worry him when there was nothing he could do… and yet he’d be outraged if he heard, afterwards, that Earth had been in grave danger and he hadn’t known a thing about it. No, he probably should be told. And, if Shadow Warrior was lost, he might be able to swear blind that he’d never heard of the ship or its human crew. Maybe the Horde would accept it.

Steve made a face. “I’ll talk to him,” he said, finally.

He keyed into the interface, then opened the link to the communicator they’d given the President. The Secret Service, those few in the know about the starship and the new colony, had been frantic with worry, pointing out that there was no way to prevent the President from being kidnapped from under their very noses. But the President had overruled them, showing more balls than Steve had expected from him. Or maybe he was smart enough to understand what had happened to the Taliban and deduce that Steve could easily do the same to him anyway, even if he didn’t carry the communicator.

It was late night in Washington, he realised, a moment too late. But the President was probably used to being woken in the middle of the night. Besides, Steve’s first Drill Instructor had been confident that being woken late at night was good for the recruits character, the bastard.

“Mr. Stuart,” the President said. “What can I do for you?”

“There’s one, perhaps two, alien starships heading into the system,” Steve said, quickly. “We may just have run out of time.”

He heard the President gulp. The man had only had ten days to come to terms with the reality of aliens and a group of former US servicemen in control of an alien starship and a growing lunar settlement. He’d been the most powerful man on Earth, but now Earth was merely a drop in the galactic bucket, a tiny and utterly insignificant world protected only by its isolation from any gravity point. And nemesis was fast approaching.

“You need to call a very quiet alert,” Steve said. He knew it would be useless, but at least it would convince the President he was doing something useful. “And pray for us.”

“I will,” the President said. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Steve said.

He broke the connection and returned his attention to the main display, now reformatted for human eyesight. The two contacts were reducing speed, slightly, as they entered the solar system, apparently trying to avoid the outermost planets and their gravity wells. From what Keith Glass and his theorists had deduced, partly from clues in alien fiction, the alien ships actually bent gravity around them and surfed through space at FTL speeds. A sufficiently large gravity well would break up the gravity waves and force them to return to normal space, if indeed they’d left it. Glass’s reports hadn’t been too clear on that topic.

Perhaps we need to hire more theorists, Steve thought, coldly.

It burned at him that the Hordesmen, despite being primitive barbarians, had access to the technology of his dreams. But they’d bought, begged or stolen it for themselves. No wonder, Steve considered, they were trapped in cultural stasis. The gulf between them and the Galactics — or humanity — was simply too wide to cross easily. They’d have to change their very mindset to start making advances and that would be tricky, if not impossible. In many ways, they were simply too conservative for their own good.

“They’re not leaving a ship on the edge of the solar system,” Mongo commented. “You’d think they’d consider it a wise precaution.”

“They don’t think Earth is dangerous,” Kevin countered. “Remember just how casually they moved into the atmosphere and kidnapped us?”

Steve nodded, bitterly. Every year, thousands of people in the United States went missing, never to be seen again. Some of them had probably just wanted to vanish, others had been murdered and their bodies hidden beyond easy discovery… and some of them might just have been abducted by aliens. God knew there were plenty of stories about alien abduction in the United States. Could some of them have been taken by other aliens? He hadn’t seen anything resembling the tiny grey aliens of X-Files myth in the database, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. There were thousands of spacefaring aliens in the galaxy.

“No, they don’t,” he agreed. He leaned forward. “Do we have the decoy ready to go?”

Kevin smiled. “It’s ready,” he said. “And they won’t be expecting it at all.”

Steve had to smile. As if to make up for being outnumbered, trawling through the files had revealed the security codes the Hordesmen used to assure one another that they were safe and not under enemy control. The latter codes, it seemed, were rarely used, as the Hordesmen preferred death to what they saw as dishonour. But, with some ingenuity, Shadow Warrior ought to be able to convince the newcomers that everything was fine until it was too late.

“We just got a message from Heinlein,” Mongo said. “They’re going dark now.”

“It won’t be enough,” Kevin said, grimly. “Maybe we should have fled after all.”

“No,” Steve said. He hadn’t been able to abandon the ranch and he wouldn’t be able to abandon Earth. It was home, despite its flaws. “We couldn’t leave our homeworld and billons of people to burn.”

He sucked in a breath. There hadn’t been a truly existential war in American history since the Civil War — and that had been against fellow Americans. The last time the American Republic had faced total defeat had been in 1812, when the British might have managed to tear the newborn republic apart and reabsorb it into the British Empire. Even Hitler or Stalin wouldn’t have been able to land troops on American soil and occupy the country. The logistics of such an invasion would be staggering, utterly beyond comprehension…

But they were fighting an existential war now, he knew. The Hordesmen wouldn’t hesitate to bombard the planet into submission, reducing humanity to a wave of slaves… slaves who might just take over, given time to learn more about their masters from the inside. No one on Earth, outside a tiny select group, knew about the coming engagement. But their lives depended on it. If Steve and his family lost, a nightmare would descend upon Earth.

Maybe Kevin was right, he thought. Perhaps we should have fled.

It had seemed a cowardly solution at the time. Shadow Warrior could easily carry a few thousand humans and their children to another star system and provide the base for a high-tech civilisation. Given time and alien medical technology, they could build up a massive population without needing immigrants from Earth, while the Horde would be faced with a disturbing mystery. Somehow, he doubted that lost Horde starships were uncommon… and with no trace of Galactic technology on Earth, it would be hard for the Horde to blame humanity for the loss. But would that really stop them bombarding the planet into submission?

He pushed his thoughts aside as the alien starships drew closer. It wouldn’t be long now.

“Picking up gravimetric fluctuations,” Kevin said, softly. “I think they’re decelerating.”

There was a ping from the display. “They’re dropped out of FTL,” Kevin added. “And they’re coming our way.”

“On screen,” Steve said. He chuckled, dispelling the tension. “I thought of that one yesterday.”

“Keith was saying that Star Trek was a poor excuse for an SF show,” Kevin joked. “We should have gone with Babylon 5.”

Steve considered it. He’d watched all five seasons of Babylon 5 in Iraq, between patrols through dangerous cities and countryside. “Nah,” he said, finally. “I hated the fifth season.”

He looked up at the display as the two alien starships came into view. One of them looked to have been built by the same designers responsible for Shadow Warrior, as it looked like a large dagger ready to stick itself into its enemy’s heart. The other looked rather alarmingly like a giant crab, except it had three claws instead of two. With some imagination, it was possible to see how they might both be able to land on a planetary surface.

“Small ships,” Kevin commented. “But armed to the teeth.”

Steve had to smile. The smallest ship was over a hundred metres long, bigger than anything humanity had put into space. Were they so jaded that such a wondrous creation seemed tiny?

“Send them the distress call,” he ordered. “Let them think we’re in trouble.”

He watched as the holographic image of the Subhorde Commander’s second-in-command started requesting help from the newcomers. The original Subhorde Commander, according to their alien captive, would have killed himself out of shame, an act that would somehow allow his subordinates to remain blameless. Steve couldn’t help wondering just what sort of society would insist on suicide for something that was hardly the person’s fault, but he feared he already knew the answer. The Hordesmen hated having to admit that they needed assistance from anyone else.

Just like us, he thought, remembering his grandfather’s stories about the Great Depression. The family had gone hand-to-mouth for years, but they’d never accepted government help or even local charity. We’re stubborn bastards too.

“They’re altering course and coming towards us,” Mongo said. “Their weapons are charged, but they’re not targeting us — or anyone else.”

“Good,” Steve said. The ships might be smaller than his ship, but they packed a nasty punch… assuming, of course, the Hordesmen knew how to use the weapons. Did they? It seemed impossible that they didn’t… and besides, he didn’t dare assume so unless he had very clear proof of their failings. “Are our assault teams ready to go?”

“Aye, sir,” Kevin said. “Edward is ready to go; I’ve uploaded starship specifications into his combat implants, so he and his team won’t be lost.”

“Excellent,” Steve said.

“Picking up a response,” Mongo interrupted. “They’re demanding more details.”

“Tell our spoiled brat to start whining,” Steve ordered. The simulated Subhorde Commander wasn’t any more intelligent or knowledgeable than the one Steve had killed. He wouldn’t know what was wrong, any more than the rest of his people. They probably thought that kicking the equipment would start it working again. “And then request immediate transhipment of emergency supplies.”

“Enemy ships entering weapons range,” Mongo said. “I’m passive-locking our weapons onto their shield generators.”

Steve smirked. One idea that seemed to have come straight out of Star Trek was aligning the teleporter to beam its people through the shields, provided one knew the shield frequency. The Hordesmen probably didn’t know it was possible, but the interface had helpfully provided details when asked. Once their shields were battered down, the assault would begin… if, of course, they had to batter down the shields. As long as the Horde had no idea that Shadow Warrior was in human hands, they’d come in fat and happy.

“Keep passive target locks at all times,” he said. “If we go active, they’ll smell a rat.”

The seconds ticked away as the two starships converged on Shadow Warrior. “Enemy ships are entering teleport range now,” Mongo said. “They’re requesting permission to board.”

Steve checked the weapon at his belt, then keyed the alarm. Throughout the ship, the entire crew would be drawing weapons, ready to engage the aliens if they managed to teleport onto the ship. The human crew couldn’t risk alerting the aliens, Steve knew; they’d have to wipe out the unsuspecting aliens as quickly as possible. At least they now knew how to configure their stunners to stun Hordesmen, rather than butchering them like animals.

He took a breath. “Grant it,” he ordered. “And prepare to lower shields.”

If the timing worked… if the timing worked…

“One ship has lowered shields,” Mongo reported. There was a grim note of frustration in his voice. “The other is keeping its shields in position.”

Steve gritted his teeth. The ambush, it seemed, was about to get bloody. “Beam the first set of assault teams to the enemy starship,” he ordered. “And then target the other ship’s shield generators and open fire!”

Mongo keyed a switch. “Aye, sir,” he ordered. “Phasers engaging… now!”

On the screen, the second enemy starship was suddenly wrapped in a bubble of glowing light as the directed energy weapons burned into its shields. Its companion was already partly disabled — the attackers had beamed stun grenades and modified screamers as well as the assault team itself — but Steve kept an eye on it anyway. Maybe someone had been wearing a mask or a spacesuit, something that would provide enough protection for them to rally the troops and counterattack.

“Enemy ship is returning fire,” Mongo said. The starship shuddered a moment later as pulses of energy slammed into her shields. At least none of the consoles seemed inclined to explode as the starship was hammered. That always happened on Star Trek, but it was more than a little unrealistic. “They’re coming right towards us.”

Ramming speed, Steve thought. If the Horde Commander thought he and his crew were doomed, he might as well try to take the captured starship down with them. It would fit in with what they knew of the Horde’s Code of Honour, although Steve wouldn’t have called it Honour. More like bloody-minded stupidity.

“Evasive action,” he snapped. It wasn’t going to be easy. The smaller ship was considerably more manoeuvrable than the Warcruiser. He hastily checked with the interface and discovered that a small cruiser ramming a full-sized Warcruiser would almost certainly result in mutual destruction. “And continue firing.”

“Target their drives,” Kevin advised. “Slow them down!”

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Mongo snapped. He didn’t look up from his console. “We either board them or destroy them or we’re thoroughly fucked.”

Steve cursed under his breath, feeling helpless as the smaller ship converged on his starship. They were evading, but the smaller ship was easily altering its course to ensure that it would still manage to ram the larger ship. Statistics raced up the side of the display, charting the damage to the enemy ship’s shields and the time to impact, when the two ships would collide.

I kept Mariko on the ship, Steve thought, with sudden bitter regret. He didn’t mind risking his own life — it ran in the family — but risking the life of his partner and children were quite another matter. And, with Mongo and Kevin on the ship, there would be no one left to look after the children. All of their children. I’ve killed her.

Mongo let out a cry of delight. “Their shields are fluctuating… one shield hexagon is down!”

“Beam the assault team onboard,” Steve ordered. The enemy commander was clearly no slouch, even if he didn’t really understand the technology at his command. He was already rolling the ship, trying to put another shield hexagon between his ship and Shadow Warrior. But it was too late. “And then prepare fire support, if necessary.”

“Understood,” Mongo said. Shadow Warrior rolled again, evading the suddenly uncontrolled alien craft. Steve fretted for a long moment before confirming that the ship’s course would take it nowhere near Earth. “Assault team one reports that they have secured their target.”

“Good,” Steve said. With the Hordesmen stunned or dead, there would be nothing standing between the humans and control of the starship. “Have them take control of the ship, then steer her to the reception point. And continue to monitor assault team two.”