Project Sail (40 page)

But the energy wave engulfed the capsule, tearing it apart molecule by molecule into pieces no larger than grains of sand…

…Leanne Warner stared at her screens, hoping to locate the pod as it cleared the disturbance, unable to accept the loss of two shipmates.

Fisk paced the bridge tugging at his sleeves.

“What was that? What could cause that?”

Warner speculated, “Asteroid?”

“No,” Coffman said as he crossed his arms and tapped a finger to his chin. “That looked like—”

Warner’s sensors beeped, signaling a contact. She flashed a furtive smile, thinking contact meant Carlson and Black had survived. But no, this signal came from beyond Gliese 581g, and it was much larger.

Coffman finished, “That looked like an A-H drive wash directed into the planet.”

As the ring of destruction enveloped 581g, the culprit appeared, on course for G-Moon.

Wearing blue steel and built around a thick spine, the European Alliance heavy cruiser projected strength, from missile tubes under each wing, to circular protrusions on its hammerhead bow that warned of high-powered lasers and radiation beams.

Spheres marking diametric propulsion bulged from the top and the cruiser’s version of the Alcubierre—Haruto drive contorted space through concave slots on the front.

The warship dwarfed
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, and not merely because it measured double the size. From a laser defense grid to kinetic impactors, from suicide drones to EMP projectors, the cruiser carried enough firepower to effortless swat aside the research ship.

Fisk and Coffman gawked at the screens. Starr remained in his navigator’s seat mumbling about engines and escaping. Warner did not say a word, perhaps pondering her earlier doubt of Captain Charles’ guilt.

The professor regained his composure and told Starr, “Contact the landing party on G-Moon and tell Commander Hawthorne the situation.”

Starr acknowledged the order in what sounded like a mouse’s squeak.

“Do we have any defenses?” Fisk asked a stupid question, so nobody answered.

Yes, they carried launch tubes and nuclear warheads, but even if the cargo bay held a cache of modern missiles, they could not seriously threaten a ship purposed for war.

Warner voiced what they all thought: “They are going to destroy us.”

“The question is,” Coffman pondered, “how did they know to come here?”

The EA cruiser swept over G-Moon’s northern pole and closed on
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, which flew in a geostationary orbit above the cylinder chamber.

Fisk panicked, but his panic led to a good idea. While Starr relayed information to the ground team about the destruction on 581g and the new arrival, Fisk told Leanne Warner to, “Bring Captain Charles to the bridge.”

“What? He is working for them!” She protested. “You were the one who locked him in!”

Coffman understood and translated Fisk’s intent: “If he is in control of this ship, the Alliance will not destroy us. I will access the computer and unlock his cabin.”

Warner left the bridge, nearly stumbling in her haste.

The cruiser swung around and settled into an orbit three hundred kilometers away.

A minute later, Captain Donavan Charles returned to the bridge, a nasty grin on his face.

“How did they know?” Fisk struggled to speak. “UVI was supposed to change the translation computer after you sent your first message. They shouldn’t have wanted to come here.”

Charles said, “The situation has changed so I will ask the questions, Mr. Fisk. You should worry about the airlock. Where is Commander Hawthorne?”

Fisk told him, “On the surface.”

“Incoming transmission,” Coffman reacted to an indicator at the XO’s station. “Text only.”

From the cruiser came simple instructions, scrolling across every screen on the bridge.

DO NOT OBSTRUCT LANDINGS…DO NOT OBSTRUCT LANDINGS...

…From the spine of the European Alliance’s warship detached a trio of thirty-meter-high black pods, followed by a military space plane with an oversized cargo bay. The quartet zipped away from the cruiser with little regard for angle of entry.

As they plummeted into the atmosphere, the pods glowed red…

…Hawthorne, King, and Stein followed Thomas through the plastic airlock and out to the field. The red sun finally started to rise above the horizon on G-Moon.

The moments of the first daylight since their arrival should have brought excitement, but with news of unwelcomed visitors, thoughts turned from research to survival.

Thomas scanned her wrist computer until the data she eyed provided an answer.

“There!”

Following her direction, Hawthorne looked into the bluish-gray sky that he should have found fascinating, but he could only think of what might be falling down on them.

He saw a few long clouds drifting slowly until disturbed by G-Moon’s latest invaders. Three objects streaked overhead, dragging fiery contrails in their wake.

“They’re coming down on top of us!” Dr. King exclaimed over the proximity radio.

“No, they are going to impact…hang on,” Kelly tracked the intruders on her computer that relayed information on both the screen and direct to her thinker chip. “About three kilometers west of our position…”

…”This is Captain Charles of the
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calling EA heavy cruiser, Captain Roussin, please respond.”

The transmission filtered through a translator. A moment later, the two ships established a video link.

Roussin wore a dark blue tunic and stood on a square bridge surrounded by crewman wearing full-face helmets that served as workstations. He was a tall man in his late middle ages with curled brown hair and a dreadlock beard, a symbol of status in the courts of Europe.

He spoke and the computer translated French to English.

“Captain Charles, congratulations on carrying out your mission. We will require a briefing on what your research teams have found on the moon.”

“I need immediate transport to the surface, please send a shuttle. In the meantime, destroy this ship should it try to leave orbit. Also, there is a small group of Americans on the moon.”

Roussin replied, “We have marked their location and have sent a combat team to secure the area.”

“Captain, anyone already on the surface should be considered hostile and dealt with accordingly…”

...The three pods impacted the surface of G-Moon at the center of a wide basin surrounded by forests and rocky knolls, save for one clear exit leading toward a landscape of rolling hills.

When they hit, sharp points sticking from the undercarriages fixed the pods in an upright position, their black skins contrasting with the green grass, gray trees, and brown rocks.

For several minutes they remained motionless, dead meteorites that had landed in formation. And then their systems activated.

What appeared to be pods were really shells. The center third rotated until revealing a thin red eye. Protective panels fell off freeing tubes and barrels, and two thick planks extended from the main frame to form hydraulic legs.

With a hiss, a clang, whirring gears, and the buzz of building power, the pods morphed into walking metal pillars dressed in black armor, standing thirty meters, and programmed to kill.

43. Goliaths

“We should run and hide,” Dr. King offered her solution as she huddled with the ground team inside the base camp cave.

Kelly Thomas stared into space as if in a daze, but she was watching video feed through her implant from Moe as the flying robot reconnoitered the European position.

She told them, “I count three tall-skinnies and it looks like human and automaton troops disembarking from a heavy lifter.”

“What is a tall-skinny?” King asked.

Stein answered, “Goliaths. Are they moving?”

“No, they’re establishing a security perimeter around the landing zone with local air patrols.”

Hawthorne said, “They will set up a base and then come for us. I guess UVI and navy intelligence did not cut off Charles’ communications.”

“We should run and hide,” King repeated.

Hawthorne said, “The oxygen in our tanks will run out and even if we can breathe the atmosphere, we have three days’ worth of supplies.”

Stein asked, “What do these Europeans want?”

“They want this moon,” Hawthorne figured, “and that means killing us so no one can challenge their claim. Christ, I knew I shouldn’t have come on this mission!”

Stein said, “So any second now a nuke or KI will blast us.”

Hawthorne guessed, “No, they will want our data and they won’t want to do any ecological damage. They will send in combat drones to flush as out.”

“So surrender!” King insisted.

Stein told her, “They will kill us. We have no value to them; we are in the way.”

Hawthorne paced, tapped his thigh, and flexed his fists. He saw no way out of this mess. They could not withstand an EA onslaught, their spaceship was no match for a heavy cruiser, and even if
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could escape, the Alliance would blow them from the sky before they could reach orbit.

Running and hiding would result in a slow death, standing and fighting a fast one, and surrender a quick execution. Stein was right; they were of no value to the EA.

“Come on, you are the war hero,” King panicked and snapped, “think of something!”

“A sneak attack?” Kelly suggested.

“Against Goliaths?” Stein said. “Lieutenant, I may not be the military mind here, but I know that if a Goliath wants you dead, you are dead.”

Hawthorne stopped pacing, stopped tapping, and stopped flexing his fingers.

“Then we make them not want to kill us.”

Stein asked, “And exactly how do we do that?”

Hawthorne told them, “By now they know we have an alien artifact down here. Maybe it can be our lifeline.”

Stein asked, “And this helps us how?”

“They guarantee us safe passage off-world, or we blow it up.”

---

Hawthorne stood outside the cave and eyed the terrain. Behind him to the north was a plateau where the space plane and one capsule sat parked, beyond that stretched a forest of trees with thick gray trunks. As the dim light of Gliese took to the blue-gray sky, green and yellow flowers bloomed in the branches. He wondered how they smelled.

In front of him, the hill descended another five feet and then flattened out in a green plain. That plain extended south one hundred meters until another hill—this one steeper and rockier—formed the opposite wall of the shallow valley.

To his left—the east—rolling grass-covered hills and then the cavern with the cylinder, a kilometer away.

To his right—the west—the plain and soft hills continued until eventually reaching the European Alliance’s camp.

Stein exited the cave with a backpack over his pumpkin suit and said, “I downloaded the data and wiped the drives.”

“Good, give it to Dr. King for safekeeping.”

They descended the slope and gathered by the walking storage container, which Kelly interfaced with through the wrist computer built into her suit sleeve.

“Here,” she threw him an aerosol container, “get painted.”

Hawthorne sprayed a cloud of sparkling gray mist over his suit and then did the same to Stein who asked, “What is this shit?”

Kelly answered, “Chaff aerosol that will inhibit electronic tracking and help mask your heat signature.”

“I feel better already,” Stein quipped.

Kelly gave each of them a sleek carbine equipped with two targeting sites, a sling, and extra magazines.

Dr. King refused, saying, “I do not know how to use a gun. Now, what is this walking cargo container?”

Hawthorne answered, “The navy calls it an ‘army in a box’ and Henderson snuck it onboard without Charles knowing. The alliance will not expect this level of resistance, so it should buy time for Stein to plant the explosives.”

“Why me?”

“No thinker chip and with the shit you have done in your life, I bet you know how to rig a charge for remote detonation. Make sure you set up a transmitter that will work from orbit.”

“You don’t have implants, either.”

While true, Hawthorne knew he needed to be with Kelly, so he handed a satchel to the pilot and told him, “Take a hike.”

“So if I understand this, I plant the charges and rig a remote detonator. You tell the alliance to let us fly away otherwise you blow it up?”

“Yes.”

King said, “You should contact the Alliance right now, before their machines get here.”

Hawthorne explained, “We can’t tip our hand until the charges are in place. That means we will have to fight back their first wave to buy Bill time.”

“Well then, I hope this works. Good luck,” Stein said, shook Hawthorne’s hand, and then started to the east.

“So what else you got?” Hawthorne asked.

Kelly detailed the contents: “Two AA/AS launchers with optical camouflage. Three self-propelled laser C-RAM units to set up a defense grid. Four T-UGS that I have already placed on our flanks, ten of the PDWs I just gave out, ten AP shrapnel grenades, and ten of the EMP variety, two more satchel charges, two high-powered sniper rifles, and this,” she directed their attention to the top of the container where a big gun popped up. Its barrel stretched six feet and was surrounded by tubes.

“Coil gun,” she said.

“That will leave a mark,” Hawthorne tried to sound funny but his voice shook too much to be taken as anything other than scared.

Kelly retrieved a case and opened it, revealing individually wrapped syringes.

“Combat stimulants, ten doses.”

King protested, “Combat stimulates are unethical and dangerous.”

Hawthorne replied, “They increase stamina and improve sensory acuity, plus a dose of liquid bravery, and I need that. But if you don’t like it, that’s fine, you are running off to hide in the woods, anyway. As for me, I will take my shot as soon as those Goliaths start moving.”

King said, “Not much of an army; I was hoping you might have a regiment of grenadiers in there.”

“Maybe these will do,” Kelly said and pushed a button on her forearm.

Out marched four rows of six robots, each two feet tall walking on legs that also housed wheels. They were bipedal with tiny arms ending in pinchers, no heads but a lens protruded from their chests, a missile on each shoulder, and a barrel attached to their right arms.