Hammerhead Resurrection Page 21

  Stacy scowled. “You’re joking.”

  “Not at all. A single atom of hydrogen is sent in an electromagnetically shielded loop.” He made a small circle with his hands. “The loop’s only this big. The hydrogen is accelerated up to the speed of light with electrical impulses.”

  Stacy’s right eye narrowed with disbelief. “Light speed? What the hell powers it?”

  “A fist-sized fusion reactor, ma’am.”

  “And what happens when the hydrogen reaches light speed?” Stacy asked.

  “According to Einstein’s theory of relativity, as a mass, in this case the hydrogen atom, approaches the speed of light, it should become infinitely heavy.”

  “Does it?”

  “Absolutely,” Roth said with a faint smile. “That’s what creates the singularity, but not in the way we initially expected. It doesn’t gain mass gradually as Einstein theorized. The moment it hits the speed of light, it begins slipping backward in time.”

  Stacy stared at him, her face slack. “You’re messing with me.”

  “No ma’am, I wouldn’t do that. It slips back in time. As it does, a second atom occupies the same space as the first. It does this over and over again, a trillion times in a billionth of a second. That one atom-sized space becomes infinitely dense, creating a singularity with an event horizon half a mile in diameter.”

  “I see why it did so much damage to the Sthenos destroyer.” Stacy crouched down and touched the canvas exterior of the warhead’s carrying case. “All in a backpack.”

  “Exactly, no amount of armor plating or shielding can resist it,” Roth said. “If we could get one into a Sthenos destroyer, it would pull the entire thing in on itself.”

  Jeffrey said, “We have thirty three Wraiths with singularity warheads on them, but I haven’t seen this portable type before. Are there more of these?”

  “Yes sir, we have thirty of this style.”

  Jeffrey nodded absently. “Cool.”

  “Very cool,” Stacy said.

  “I’ll have to talk more with you later Commander Zack,” Jeffrey said as he walked away.

  Stacy called after him, “Where are you going?”

  “I’ve got a few things I need to look into.”

  …

  Jeffrey had been vague because he didn’t want to speak of what was troubling him. It was something that had been floating in the back of his mind since the attack had begun and had worried at his thoughts more and more as the situation had worsened. He’d successfully pushed it from his thoughts, but now, as he walked along the uneven ground beneath the tall trees, which were infused with the sounds of insects and birds, he searched the surrounding faces for the one person he had to find aside from Stacy—Leif.

  As he walked among a few service people stacking water and food, he heard footfalls behind him.

  “Jeffrey.”

  He turned to find Delaney walking up to him. “You haven’t seen a medic yet. You need to get those wounds treated.”

  “I will soon.”

  “Now.”

  He let out a breath. “I need to find my son first.”

  At that her determined look softened. “I’ll walk with you.” As they moved on, she asked, “Did you at least drink water?”

  “Yes,” he said and couldn’t help but smile.

  “What?”

  “We fairly hated each other only a few days ago, and now you’re after me like a mother hen.”

  “I… didn’t exactly hate you,” she said with a light laugh.

  He stopped and faced her. “Samantha, I apologize for how I spoke to you on the bridge and in my quarters. My comments were unnecessarily rude.”

  “I’m sorry as well… for everything.”

  In the following silence Jeffrey became transfixed by her eyes, the color of leaves in autumn, glowing with sunlight.

  Forcing himself to look off to the forest, he said, “I need to find Leif.”

  “After we’ve found him, I want you to see a medic.”

  He nodded his assent as a female sailor nearby said, “If you’re looking for Leif Holt, he’s right over there.” Jeffrey looked to her. She pointed over his shoulder.

  He turned and, searching the faces on the far side of the clearing, saw his son carrying a crate, his shirtfront dark with dried blood. Jeffrey jogged over to him, feeling as though he might lift him off the ground and swing him up onto his shoulder as he had done when he was small. Leif put the crate down with a thump and nodded to his father.

  Jeffrey said of the blood on Leif’s chest, “Not yours I assume.”

  Leif shook his head. “No. I’m glad you’re alive. I wasn’t sure for two days.” He said it in a casual tone though, as though he’d always expected to find his father alive.

  “It might not always work out that way.”

  Leif shrugged. “So far so good.”

  The other personnel had set their cases down and left. The breeze rustled leaves overhead. Jeffrey looked to Samantha, who nodded and walked away.

  He asked Leif, “How are you holding up?”

  Leif looked out into the forest. Jeffrey could see that he was at the edge of his ability to cope with the strain he’d been under.

  “There’s no shame in grief son. If we try to hold it in, it only hurts us more. We’re safe for the moment, in a place you can let it out a little… if you can.”

  Leif gripped his hands together.

  “Leif I want you to know—”

  “We fought.”

  “What’s that?”

  Tears welled in Leif’s eyes. “The last words we had… were an argument.”

  When he fell silent, Jeffrey said, “Sit, son.”

  Leif sat on the container he’d been carrying and Jeffrey pulled another one close and sat facing him. He took hold of Leif’s shoulders. A subtle tremor ran through them.

  Jeffrey said, “I know it’s difficult to see now, but it will get easier.”

  Leif pushed Jeffrey’s hands away. “I don’t want it to get easier.” His voice fell to a near-whisper, “I feel like if it gets easier, I’ll forget her. I can’t let that happen.”

  Jeffrey took hold of Leif’s hands with a firm grip. “Leif, she knew you loved her in the end. You set the stars by her.”

  Jeffrey felt Leif’s arms relax somewhat. With his head down, he looked exposed, his spirit broken. Drawing slow breaths that tremored in his chest, he shook his head slowly.

  “She knew you loved her. You have to accept that.”

  “It’s not that,” Leif said quietly.

  “What is it then?”

  Leif said nothing, and in that silence Jeffrey took his chance. “She was pregnant.”

  Leif nodded, and his eyes rose to meet Jeffrey’s, a helplessness in them, as if he had no idea what to do with the pain he felt. “How did you know?”

  Jeffrey shrugged. “I put it together.”

  Leif’s voice lowered, “How?”

  “I know my son. I know when he’s hurting and how badly.” At this tears welled in Jeffrey’s eyes. He tapped the center of his chest. “I’ve felt every bruised knee and broken heart you’ve ever had, felt it like it was my own.” He shook his head. “You can’t hold up the world Leif. You have to let those around you help.”

  “You’ll help me kill them?”

  “Yes.”

  Leif nodded. “Good.” His emotions appeared to cement back over. “Then we have work to do.” He stood and opened the container. Inside, set in black foam, lay a blank onyx disk about a the size of a man’s chest. Kicking the case closed, he set the object on it.

  Jeffrey asked, “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes. A remote Nav-Con and communications console.”

  …

  As the sixth hour from crash landing passed, Captain Donovan approached Jeffrey in a clearing. “I have the last of the troops moving to our location now.”

  “Good. Have you got those folks working on shelter?”

  Donovan said, “
I was tasked with getting supplies off the ship. I’ve done that. Maybe instead of glad-handing your pets you should have had some setting up shelter.”

  In that moment Jeffrey imagined hitting Donovan in the jaw hard enough to lift him off his feet. Instead, he drew a breath and said, “Captain Donovan, please task your men and women with setting up shelter. When you’ve done that, come back and talk with me.”

  Donovan stared just long enough to show resistance, but not long enough to be insubordinate, and walked away without acknowledging the order.

  While he understood Donovan represented a danger to his command, he knew that forcing him to comply wasn’t enough. He needed Donovan to believe in him and follow him.

  Thirty minutes later Donovan returned, his expression closed off. As he came to stand in front of Jeffrey, he crossed his arms. “The shelters are being prepared.”

  Beyond Donovan, through the trees, Jeffrey could see the back of the Lacedaemon broken in three buckled creases. Sunlight caught the metal along it’s welded seams in glittering lines.

  “Donovan,” Jeffrey asked in a matter of fact tone, “exactly what is your problem with me?” He felt the air supercharge between them.

  “You want to know what my problem is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Off the record.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve said it before. You’re nothing but a pilot. Cantwell was a full blown military commander with experience leading a destroyer and a fleet. He had experience leading battle groups. You were in the military what… six years? That man served for fifty.”

  “So you respect experience.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you respect ability.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. So here’s how we’re going to work this. We’re going to need a lot of different experience and ability to survive, and I do sincerely believe that the survival of the human race is on the line here. I’m operating on the assumption that the Sthenos have no desire to rule us.”

  At that, Donovan’s expression softened. “We’d be better off if that was their goal.”

  “Exactly. We’d have more time. At least in that, we have a point of agreement.”

  Donovan’s expression remained unreadable.

  “Individually,” Jeffrey continued unfazed, “we’re each limited. To succeed, we’re going to need Commander Zack’s guerilla expertise, my flight group and dog fighting expertise, and your large-scale operations expertise. I agree when you tell me that we need applied experience, but tell me honestly, what is your area of proficiency?”

  Looking out on the hulk of the Lacedaemon, Donovan said, “Destroyer and fleet operations.”

  “Captain, you’ve forgotten more than I’ll ever know on fleet battle tactics, but,” Jeffrey held his hand out to the Lacedaemon where a flight of white birds now crossed over the broken spars of the bridge, “what use is it to us now?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sofía Fields sat on the couch in her small apartment running her fingertips across its crosshatched fabric. The sun glittered off the stainless steel patio railings. Beyond, the skyline of downtown Los Angeles stood against a broad, blue sky. Cool summer air blew through the open patio door carrying the scent of the pine trees from the hills. Her children, Emilia and Luciano lay on their bellies on the white carpeting playing with a fractal hologram.

  While such a beautiful day should bring contentment, she felt troubled. She hadn’t received a message from Marco in two weeks. While long separations without explanation were part of the life of a Special Warfare spouse, he’d always been able to warn her that he’d be out of touch. In his last video message, all had seemed well. He’d said he was off the shoulder of Saturn on the Rhadamanthus, that he was bored, and he loved her. She recorded a return message, having both Luciano and Emilia show him pictures they’d drawn of him wearing his flight suits.

  At three years old, Luciano held no greater hero in his heart than his father, and to Emilia at four, there was no greater prince. While she felt equally proud of her husband, she had difficulty sleeping in a lonely bed. During the months-long deployments, dark circles would form under her eyes. When he returned, she would hold his shoulder in the quiet darkness of their bedroom and sleep so deeply her body ached when she awoke.

  Luciano looked from the toy to the patio as a faint rumbling formed at the edge of Sofía’s awareness. The little boy went out onto the patio followed by his sister. Emilia pointed upward and said, “Mama, la astronave de padre.”

  “What are you talking about Emilia?” Sofía said as she rose and walked across the living room.

  With high-pitched excitement, the little girl said, “He’s come home! With his whole ship!”

  As she jumped up and down, Luciano caught up in her excitement, punched her. She slapped him across the face, which made him scream in anger.

  Sofía ran onto the patio, saying, “Stop it the both of—”

  She fell silent, staring at the glittering black spike dropping out of the sky on a tail of blue flame. What looked like black smoke poured from its upper reaches, but as the smoke dispersed it was granular, individual small things, which began spreading out.

  The rumbling grew as the ship descended. Struts extended from its sides as it set down among the dwarfed skyscrapers. The small, dark particles began flying over the city. Green bolts of power lashed out at buildings. One of the sky scrapers, perhaps shoved aside by the base of the ship, tipped sideways, dust trailing off its edges as it collapsed in a billowing cloud, glittering with shattered glass.

  Despite having no idea what she was seeing, as she watched the building fall, two instinctual thoughts came to Sofía’s mind. Hide or run. Her gut told her to run. She looked to the cabinet by the entryway where Marco, the consummate soldier, kept his bug out bag. She’d given him a hard time about it countless times, had called him paranoid. Now all she could think was how grateful she was for him.

  Going to the cabinet, she pulled out the big pack and threw it on her back.

  “Put your shoes on,” she said to Luciano and Emilia.

  “Where are we going?” Emilia asked.

  “But,” Luciano said pointing to the ship.

  “There’s no time to explain, mijo.”

  As if sensing her mother’s fear, Emilia’s eyes widened and reddened.

  “All is well Emilia,” she said with a warm smile, “but we must go now.”

  The children did as they were told, and they left the apartment thirty seconds later. With both children stacked in her son’s stroller, she ran up the street, past the balconies of the wealthier homes with people pointing out into the valley. It took her twenty minutes to reach the last street.

  “We have to play a game with your father.”

  “Hide and seek?”

  “Yes, but we must be very serious. He will be proud of you if he cannot find you.”

  Luciano nodded with a definitive downward bend to his mouth, and they left the stroller at the curb, climbing the steep slope between two houses to enter the tinder, dry pine trees of Mt. Lee. When they were halfway up the hill, a ship unlike any she’d seen came racing by the edge of the street, spraying down a glittering liquid, which solidified as a crosshatched barrier. If she’d hesitated a moment longer, they’d have been trapped inside it.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jeffrey set up a shelter in a hollow of trees with a partial view of the Lacedaemon. That night sparks of fire lanced across the star-deep sky trailing moonlit smoke—debris from the fleet and razed satellites.

  The next morning, Jeffrey stood outside his shelter looking through the trees. The Lacedaemon’s back glowed copper in the early light.

  He’d set his shelter down a small trail to be off by himself. Footfalls came down that trail now. In a few moments Samantha emerged through the broad leafed plants.

  “They never came,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  “It means they don’t care. They know th
ey’ve won. It tells me they’re used to easy victories. It also means they’ve spent the last 12 hours focusing on other targets.”

  “What do you suppose they’ve done?”

  Before he could answer, Jeffrey heard the thudding of boots and the rush of leaves as someone ran toward them. A moment later, Stacy leapt over the nearby teak roots. “Come quick, we’re communicating with a space station.”

  …

  In the command area they found an operations specialist sitting on a crate, leaning over a portable communications unit. He had headphones on with one ear uncovered. The command staff stood around him.

  The young man looked at Jeffrey with exhausted eyes and said, “I’ve got a low frequency connection with the space station. I haven’t attempted to communicate yet. My guess is that the moment they fire up their power, they’ll be destroyed.”

  “That’s a good bet based on what we know of Sthenos tactics.” Donovan said. “Any idea how they’ve survived?”

  “It looks like they’re running on extremely low power. No lights, minimal life support.” He looked to Jeffrey, “Admiral, may I send the message?”

  Jeffrey waited for the admiral to respond. He felt Donovan, Holloway, and the other ranking officers’ eyes all on him. Samantha nudged Jeffrey with her elbow.

  “I assume,” Jeffrey said with a start, only then realizing he was the admiral to whom the young man was speaking, “you aren’t going to expose our position?”

  “No sir.” The officer pointed to a black antenna cone strapped high in the trees. “I’m using an x-ray laser transmitter aimed directly at the station, not broadcasting it. They however—if I understand their communications equipment well enough—cannot direct their signal back at us in a similar fashion. They’ll have to expose themselves if they want to respond.”

  “Okay,” Jeffrey said, “What’s the planned message content?”

  The officer read from his screen, “We are a military force in need of logistical information on invading forces. If you have anything of value, please send. If not, remain dark.”

  Donovan nodded his approval to Jeffrey. “I’m good with that.”