Alien Backlash Read online

  “Some of them must be from higher-gravity planets because they can cope with high G force. They can throw those ships around,” the Tactician noted.

  “This is so frustrating! Yes they are probably another Race but which one?” The Battle Holo showed “Casualties 0 to 62, Shield 100%.”

  “The ones that fought with the Niseyen are using standard Keulfyd tactics and their manoeuvring indicates they are from a lower-gravity planet, so probably Terrans,” said the Tactician. “But these others, are these Cats? The computer confirms they are using other tactics. They can definitely communicate. They’re flying like a flock of birds and they keep changing attack patterns! By the time the computer can anticipate their pattern it’s changed. We are getting almost no hits on this group! How are they doing this? And so fast? Judging by their high acceleration, the computer reasons their bodies could be tough and dense. That isn’t good either. We can take more stress than most Races, which gives us an advantage in manoeuvring.”

  Kedlijercylix grunted. He had already figured that out. He liked advantages. His. Not others.’ “This should be easier,” he said snarled. “This is a battle fleet. We have the best cyber programs which my friend and her resupply fleet didn’t have. No one had anticipated she would need them.” Another severe regret I have, he thought.

  They watched as the last of the gunships moved through. Their turn coming up. Two gunships stayed and the rest went off towards the capital city. The Tactician looked at the Battle Holo and muttered, “No losses this time but three more gunships have reported damage and there have been casualties. Another consequence we had not anticipated.”

  Kedlijercylix said, “The gunships were not followed. You were right. They are after my Flying Fortresses. I wonder about this wedge tactic. Should we just scatter the ships through any point?”

  The Tactician said softly, “This is how the manual says to do it. The greater danger is bluff — the shield reopening fire, and our ships being too vulnerable singly. And there are too many enemy ships.” He did not add what they both knew: they were in trouble. Splitting up might be even more dangerous. They were used to relying on their shields, never expecting this level of vulnerability.

  “The manual did not anticipate this number of effective and determined attackers! Nor that our cyber tactics would be countered. Blast them. Can no one crack the code of their light flashing?”

  “We are trying,” responded the Tactician. “The computer can find a repeating pattern, but then it changes, and we can see no connection between the lights and the subsequent action of the ships. Yet we can detect nothing else, no other communication system. Not visual, not sound of any kind and it cannot be a computer program as we have blocked that.” He studied the readouts and patterns. “I am trying all frequencies, all light spectrums to see if the computer can see lights within those lights. Nothing!”

  The Tactician felt so frustrated! The problem was, if he made up his own tactics and got away with it he would be rewarded, but if he failed it could be a court martial. If he used standard tactics and failed, no penalty. Given his latest lack of success his decision was a no-brainer. By the book it was. And they were outnumbered — another unique experience for him. He noticed that no communication was coming in from his spies beyond the spectator fleet. At least that was good news. They were not to distract him with irrelevant information but to notify only if more trouble was sighted. Like those bloody Terran Flying Fortresses. Where were they?

  He and Kedlijercylix watched as the troopships successfully got through the surrounding ships, with just one lost. Now it was the turn of the Flying Fortresses. “We won’t get through this without damage,” muttered Kedlijercylix: the computer analysis showed the hits getting both more frequent and more accurate. “Whatever they are doing it is becoming more effective.”

  The Battle Holo showed the shield now at 76%. He felt a chill and a tightening in his chest.

  “Where are the Flying Fortresses of the Terrans?” asked the Tactician. “And the Niseyen have many. I keep expecting them to attack but there is no sign of them.”

  “My scouts on the other side of the spectator fleet are also watching for them but haven’t seen them. Why aren’t the Terrans using them? They have seven! Later models too and fully armed! My spies told me they were just being used to transport civilians but that doesn’t make sense. They’re warships, not passenger liners! They are still coordinating too well. What are you trying?” he asked the Cyber Officer.

  “Everything I can, Commander!” she replied tersely, “And with no success. They’re still using those flashing lights. It must be a code but the computer can find no sense to the patterns. There are some repeats but the signals still don’t seem to match the actions. We can’t work out a translation, not even a simple one. Not even on a time delay. It looks totally random yet we can detect no other form of communication. There are some creatures that communicate via light but there should be an action to match the pattern — and there isn’t!”

  “Find it!” He looked up at the Holo: “Casualties 1 to 69, Shield 71%.”

  From his position safely in the middle of the wedge, he watched as the defending ships attacked, many more of them this time, as was expected. His Flying Fortresses were his main weapons and therefore prime targets. He grunted when, as he had feared, the two gunships were destroyed with concentrated fire, leaving the way clear for the defenders to safely attack in force. The Holo read: “Casualties 3 to 81, Shield 68%”. The gunships were attacked by the best coordinated group and they were now heading back his way. “I think these incoming ships are Cats,” he murmured. “They are flying in a manner so coordinated that the best air displays I have ever seen could not match them. Who are these pilots? They are using some standard tactics.”

  His Tactician concurred. “As they fire they are arranged in a quarter-to-three formation, allowing for a cross-fire with multiple stresses on our shields. Each ship keeps moving but in a random fashion, making them so difficult to hit. And there have been no collisions among them!”

  Kedlijercylix said grimly, “They are probably using the latest Keulfyd anti-missile software, which would reduce the hits they are taking. Probably stolen by the Loridsyl from us. Worse, all our latest distraction/decoy/selfdestruct software is not working. The enemy is getting way too many hits on us! Why are these missiles not succumbing to all our jamming software? Where did they get ‘clean’ missiles from? The Loridsyl, probably. They are firing on specific ships only. Who is coordinating this mishmash of Races? Who is their Tactician? How is this being accomplished when all signals are being jammed?”

  He glared at the Tactician, who said, trying to reassure, “It’s heavy fire but not enough to get us. We will lose the ships they are targeting if they can keep up the rate of fire and we will lose the last ship or two. But they’ll have heavy losses. We should—. He broke off. “The shield’s firing!”

  He and Kedlijercylix looked in horror at the Battle Holo as their losses rapidly shot up from four to nine to twelve. That left thirteen ships. Kedlijercylix’s last shocked thought that the change in numbers meant the enemy had been reinforced. The Battle Holo was now flashing to indicate they were in trouble. Really? I hadn’t known that, he thought sarcastically.

  Dai watched in relief as the shield snapped back on and opened fire. Kasjeindid had called it exactly. The Keulfyd had been fooled by the “power loss” and gone through at the most reinforced part of the shield with the biggest supply of weaponry. It was his turn to get out of here in a few minutes. He couldn’t believe how easy this was with the stream of information coming in from Mykad. Yet somehow he had gotten used to it very quickly. It did not distract him. She seemed to be doing something like altering the volume of the continuous images so he could instantly sense which was the information he needed now and needed to act on. She slipped into his mind like a well-fitting shoe. He felt her satisfaction and realized that that had been her intent. His shields were down to 39% and his weapons w
ere nearly gone. He could hear Jesan cursing. Had all the money that had been spent on his education been wasted? He hadn’t learnt that language in his literature courses! Maybe that was why he had failed them. And how had he been interested in military history and not even told me he was studying it?

  His ship rocked as a missile exploded nearby and several boards blanked out. Mykad hit a signal and took his ship out of the battle, locking the fire board to stop Dylam and Jesan firing and hitting friendlies. The ship felt sluggish and wasn’t turning or accelerating well.

  Mykad transferred control over to Dai as the problem of collision went and this was where his abilities outshone hers. He lost altitude and blessed all the practice time he had spent in simulators as he nursed the crippled ship down. Jesan and Dylam scrambled onto the seat behind him and strapped in.

  “I didn’t get any!”

  “You got some hits.”

  “But nothing crippling.”

  “It’s mostly cumulative. We contributed.”

  “What’s the damage?”

  “We’re going down.”

  “What? We’re going to crash?”

  “Probably.”

  Jesan looked at the instruments and silently added up the damage. “You ever bought a ship down this crippled?”

  “Only in simulators.” Dai wasn’t about to tell his son this was his first actual proper battle. He had been fired on a few times, but by amateurs. He felt Mykad’s amusement and realized that although she was touching both of them he couldn’t read Jesan’s thoughts, so presumed vice versa. He regretted Jesan being here. They had argued but Jesan had said he would take his own ship or go with his father. Jesan was determined to make a kill. He thought his father had experience and with him piloting he should be able to down a Flying Fortress. Little he knew, thought Dai, but he didn’t discourage him because he thought Jesan would be a lot safer with him. Yeah, right! Without the Cats this would have been suicidal and ineffective.

  As Dai continued to bring the crippled ship down Jesan asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I can’t turn or accelerate properly. Half my instruments are out and I don’t like what the others are indicating. The anti-grav is indicating imminent failure and if it fails we’ll go down faster than we should.” Dai had hoped Jesan would miss the implications there but saw by his sudden pallor that he knew. “We have a fuel leak too. Not a lot of options.”

  “Any good news?”

  “The pilot capsule is still airtight. Beats the alternative.”

  “Seriously, how much trouble are we in?”

  “A lot. Fancy a bath?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. See that ocean? We’re going down there. Pray the Priskya have a good lookout. I can’t swim. Can you?”

  Jesan was by now very alarmed. “You are teasing me, aren’t you? Can’t you make it to land?”

  “We have a choice between that mountain or the sea.”

  “Choose the mountain.”

  “If the anti-grav goes I’d rather land in water. At least it’s mostly level and the mountain is the wrong angle. The angle to land on water is eleven percent. I have enough control for that. We might get down mostly in one piece. The angle to land on that mountain is fifteen percent at the shallowest curve and it’s too small a landing site, too rocky, too uneven. If the anti-grav fails completely at that point we’ll crash heavily. The sea it is.

  “This is humiliating,” Jesan muttered. “In the sea! I’ll never live this down.”

  Dai laughed. “We’re going to crash and you’re worried about your reputation? Worry about your life! You’ve cost me a fortune. Do the decent thing and stay alive.”

  Jesan felt Dylam again trying to soothe him but it wasn’t working. He frantically looked around for any flat space to land. There was none. He checked the fuel gauge. There was still some left. Enough to slow them down? There were two fuel tanks on this model. He spotted the empty one. “You turned on the fuel separation didn’t you?”

  Dai gave him a withering look. OK, so the tanks were separated. The equalizer wasn’t pumping fuel into the leaking tank. How reassuring, he thought as he looked at the fuel readout: one empty, one almost. Jesan looked at the approaching sea and swallowed again.

  Dai said, “It’s a pity this isn’t a Terran ship. They have life jackets.”

  “What are life jackets?”

  “Something that keeps you floating until rescue arrives.”

  “I thought they could all swim.”

  “Apparently not all of them can, and not for days at a time.”

  “So all this talk about Amphibians is garbage?”

  Dai sighed. “No. Just that some don’t live near water and have little experience of swimming. A few broken limbs would hamper things a bit too, as would being unconscious. Even the best of them can’t sleep in water.”

  Jesan was nearing panic as the ship approached the sea. “Can this ship float?”

  “Don’t know. Find out in a minute.”

  Jesan watched the sea come closer and closer and sat silent, unable to do anything. He swallowed. With some experience of flight simulators, he could tell the plane was answering the controls, albeit sluggishly. Dai had set the flaps and strats and configured the plane for a gravity landing in case the anti-grav failed — and suddenly it did. There was a sudden sickening lurch as the plane lost altitude. They were so close to the water now! Jesan felt sudden terror as Dai suddenly pulled up the nose of the plane and then they hit with a tremendous crash and went under the water.

  Seconds later they surfaced but they were still moving so fast! said Dylam, trying to calm him.

  “How?” Jesan managed to get out.

  She showed Jesan and Dai her message going to another of her kind by the ocean and from there to a Priskya child that then told the adults.

  “Can you swim?” Dai asked.

 

  Jesan knew she was trying to reduce his panic but it wasn’t working and they were still moving way too fast and waves were breaking over them — and he couldn’t swim!

  “The shield is back in place!” Kedlijercylix cursed the Loridsyl. “The same tactic they used on the resupply ships! Call all the other ships back!” He was now badly frightened. Some of the red spheres representing the attacking ships flared as they exploded. He had lost ten of his precious Fortresses. Then there were several red flashes all at once. Five more of them gone. Then some green flashes: three more gone, all at once, all in the rear. The bloody shield! “Full power, all fleet,” he ordered as his ships poured on the speed, all together, to get away from the shield. They couldn’t outrun the missiles but they could scatter if they were further away and reduce the easy bunched targets they were at the moment. And more time meant they had more chances to scramble the missile controls. Where were his other ships? He glanced at the main chart. Too far away. Then he read the Battle Report from the ground troops and saw that the troop ships and ground forces were under attack too. Firing was coming from the trees. Quickly he sent back, “Cats must be Avian or Tree-Dwelling Race. Target the trees. Use the mobile terrain gun. It has the scanners. Target any creature in the trees with technology.” Idiots, he thought. They needed to think more laterally.

  “The scramblers and jammers aren’t working. They’re still on target,” reported the Tactician. The Battle Holo gave another green flash. “Reinforcements coming, but theirs, not ours! Lots more!” Then the computer identified them. “Okme! Okme military! What are they doing here? It’s a battle fleet! They’re coming in and all the little ships are making way for them!”

  “What? Why wasn’t I warned?”

  “There’s no communication from beyond the spectator fleet,” called out the Communication Officer. “We’ve been blocked! I can’t get messages through. It must be the Loridsyl! Where the hell did they
get our cyber codes from?”

  “Where are my gunships?” Kedlijercylix murmured in horror as the little ships moved away and the Okme battle fleet took over with larger missiles. The Tactician and the gunners tried all the scrambler and jammer codes: few of them seemed to work.

  “Why aren’t the cyber attacks working?” demanded Kedlijercylix.

  “Probably the Loridsyl have had time to analyze them and have sent that information to the Okme,” said the Tactician.

  “A battle fleet! Fully armed and fresh! Nearly the size of ours.” He looked at the clock which started automatically when any battle commenced. One hour and seventeen minutes. Why hadn’t he ordered the gunships to stay to protect him? Why hadn’t his scouts warned him? Then he remembered being told the Loridsyl too, probably, were helping to block communications outside the shield. This was why. So he wouldn’t know a Battle Fleet was coming. So the Loridsyl could analyze the cyber attack and pass that precious Intel onto the Okme. The Lorisdyl must have known the Okme were coming, so how had that little bit of information bypassed all his well-paid and numerous spies? His ship, which had been so still and quiet, rocked from near-by concussions. Loud, dangerous concussions.

  The ship protecting him had gone and he was now on the edge of the wedge. He was about to be defeated by the battle fleet, the shield, Okme and Niseyen military plus huge numbers of small ships. It wasn’t fair!

  He didn’t know that the latter were crewed by civilians mostly. Adults, elderly, teenagers, males, females, everyone of all Races who passed the simulator exams. He didn’t know that virtually all those opposing him had trained themselves in Keulfyd-designed simulators. Just as well. He would have added outrage to mere unhappiness and fear.