Swarm

-15-

At first, the battle went as planned. Crow and I worked out the details up on the ceiling of our ships, and then broadcast it to everyone else in the fleet. We sent the main body of ships toward the enemy that approached Europe. Crow and I both went with that group. A group of ten headed for the second ship, which was over Hawaii, or thereabouts. The enemy were obviously splitting their forces, hoping to slip by our defenses. They were about to succeed, too, in the far South. That was the ship I worried about most, the one that crawled over the floor like a cockroach toward the South Pole and after that, points unknown. I didn’t know what these ships would do when they reached my world, but I figured they hadn’t come all this way to give us a cure for cancer.

Our fifty hit the single ship headed for Europe and mowed the missiles it shot at us. I’d heard from Crow they were indeed missiles. Some of us were monitoring Earth’s news stations and earthbound observers had confirmed it. I was glad it wasn’t some freaky thing our own human technology could never hope to deal with. I was also glad to hear Earth was openly watching these battles. Maybe, just maybe, they would come to appreciate us one day.

With fifty ships swarming on one, it wasn’t much of a contest. We destroyed it quickly, even though it tried to turn and run. We were way out of position by the time it blew up, however, and it would be about an hour until we could get back to help the other ships.

It was one of the longest hours of my life. The second ship over Hawaii didn’t die so easily. When they were at long range our squad managed to shoot down each incoming missile, but as they drew closer, our ships had less time to fire at the missiles before they hit something. Each shot, we could see, came closer to the tight knot of ten ships.

Then disaster struck from an unexpected direction. The South Pole ship, which had been barreling in at full speed this entire time, had made it close to Earth. It had deviated course somewhat. Quickly, its new goal became apparent.

“Isn’t that South America?” asked Sandra.

I nodded. At least Jack didn’t have to worry about his relatives. It seemed logical when I thought about it. Why not go for the closest land mass with the greatest population?

“Kyle?” said Sandra, “I think its shooting something.”

I watched, unable to speak, unable to swallow. For the first time, I saw an alien ship firing on our planet—if you didn’t count the Nanos, that was. Somehow, I felt responsible. I couldn’t believe my conversations and command decisions had led to this result. I felt hot and sick.

“What are they firing at?” asked Sandra. She was up now, squatting in front of the big dark circle of Earth. “The missiles are vanishing over Antarctica.”

“There are bases there. Scientific installations run by various nations. The aliens are certainly thorough, aren’t they? If only—”

“Kyle!” shouted Sandra, “look at the ten you sent at the other ship.”

I did and I almost choked. I had expected to see them being destroyed, but that hadn’t happened, not yet anyway. What I saw, in some ways, was almost worse. Three of the ships had broken off. They were no longer attacking the target we’d given them. They’d turned away and were now heading downward on our wall toward the ship that approached the southern tip of South America.

Crow’s voice scratched onto the public channel. “Mutiny! Get back on target, everyone! You are screwing up the plan!”

It wasn’t very professional sounding, but it was to the point. The three ships ignored him and kept flying away from their designated battle.

I opened a line to Crow. “Commodore. Break off all of them. Send all ten at the South American ship.”

“What the hell are they doing?”

“They are disobeying orders.”

“I should let them burn.”

“They might very well do so, I think they are going to beat your team to the South American ship.”

Unpleasant laughter. “Serves them right. Deserters.”

“They might have relatives there, on that continent.”

“Yeah, or they might have figured out they can only run away by switching targets over and over again.”

I thought about that. I didn’t like the sound of it. Our fellow fleet members were not a disciplined force. They were a bunch of survivalists. If they heard about a new way to avoid combat—well, they might let a city burn to save their own skins.

“Let’s hope I’m right on this one,” I said.

“I think you are right about our response. I’m pulling our ships off the secondary target. We’ll all hit the third and then deal with the second afterward. I don’t like them shooting at Earth.”

I had a little predictive session with the Alamo. We worked out that the ship coming up from the South Pole would get to Santiago Chile or Buenos Aires Argentina before we could get there. As soon as the enemy ship reached land, we watched as it paused over the rocky, cold region of the far south. When it moved away, it looked as if it had laid an egg. A small mass sat there.

“What the hell is that?” I demanded.

“I don’t know,” said Sandra.

“Alamo, what did the ship drop off?”

“Warning, the following is a predictive analysis, not based on factual data.”

“Just tell me.”

“The probabilities indicate it is an invasion force.”

“An invasion force? Of what? Giant robots?”

“Reference unclear.”

“The Macros, they just put troops down, is that what you are saying?”

“Yes. Troops and processing systems.”

They came for raw materials, my brain said, supplying an unwanted answer. I stared at the wall with bits of shivering, rippling metal all over it. The seas weren’t blue, they were silver. The land was the color of graphite. But it was my home, just the same. I felt fear and panic—and horror.

When they got closer to a belt of major cities, they laid another ‘egg’ of troops, machines, whatever it was. Then the ship fired about five times. I knew, vaguely, where the big cities were. The missiles moved and finally vanished over several of Earth’s greatest cities. I had no doubt there were mass casualties.

I swallowed hard as we swept in over the big ship now. I was proud to see that the three who had broken off and come to fight here were not deserters. They were the first to arrive. Two of them died before we got there to help, but at least one guy lived. I thought that perhaps, they had done the right thing. They had lost us two ships, but had distracted the Macros and kept them from taking out more of our cities.

We swarmed the last ship and brought it down without losing another vessel.

“What next?” Sandra asked.

I knew what she meant. Did we fly to kill the ship over Hawaii or stay and work on the troops or whatever they were? I could see now, they were moving too, very slowly. They were about as fast as a minute hand on an old analog clock, but they were moving. On the planet, I realized, they must be moving very fast indeed. The speed of a car on the highway, at least.

“Fleet, I want everyone to hit the ship over Hawaii. We can come back here and attack these ground forces later. It will take them hours according to the Snapper for them to reach any major population centers.”

No one argued. We all raced low over the Earth, crossing her oceans to the northwest. We flew upward, too. I wanted a beer, I wanted it badly, but I held off. I told myself I would have a six-pack when the last Macro on my world died.

The last ship never reached Hawaii. It was close, and it did get off one missile, which took out the city of Hilo, I learned later. The missiles, unsurprisingly, were nuclear. Each carried a single warhead, about a dozen megatons worth of death and destruction. They never got close enough to land to drop any invasion forces, thankfully.

When we raced back to South America, the two red contacts representing the invasion forces had spread out like spills of paint. Our ships flew in and parked over them. I felt my ship fire again and again. I grinned at Sandra fiercely. We were slaughtering them, I could tell.

But then there were squawking voices on the public channel. Reports came in of something hitting us. It was hard to tell, with all our golden, beetle-like ships zooming around and over one another, seeking and destroying.

Then I saw one get hit, not too far from our own contact. I tried to open a channel to Commodore Crow. We had to get out of there. But he ignored my connection and shouted over the public channel.

“Pull out! Everyone move to orbit. The ships will let us, they don’t have an compulsion about leaving a ground fight. I repeat, order your ship to lift off to orbital altitude.”

In a shifting mass we followed his orders. Star Force’s second battle against the Macros was over. But the ground war for Earth had just begun.