Swarm

-36-

We reached the first dome in the morning. When scouts crested the crater around it, we were surprised to find no resistance. We approached it with all due paranoia anyway. I ordered my artillery to take out the missile battery that sat on top of it first. It sprayed missiles at us, but my ships shot them down. We fired shells at the battery until it disintegrated.

The place looked abandoned. I briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to capture the dome—or rather, the factory inside. But I thought the better of it. These machines had to be destroyed. We had no time to mess around with it. I ordered six companies of men to approach the dome from every angle. I sent in the companies with the most new recruits. What better time was there to learn about our enemy? I suspected the machines had pulled out of here because it was an indefensible position. If this was a dry run, if the enemy had decided to pull out and give us this one, then I figured I might as well get some training value out of it. I ordered the majority of my forces to withdraw beyond the crater rim. We would keep a sharp lookout for a surprise attack from an unexpected direction.

When the attack came, it was indeed a surprise. I think it was my withdrawal of forces that triggered it. Reviewing the transmitted video files later, it didn’t seem the boys I’d sent to their deaths had caused the Macros to make their move. My green troops hadn’t even made it half-way across the crater floor when things went bad.

First, the dome disappeared. It flickered, then fuzzed, and at last faded away to nothing. Inside the dome was the great machine we’d come to destroy, with several dozen smaller worker machines crawling over it. These workers were a new variety. Each of them had a delicate set of specialized instruments mounted on the front of their chassis. The glittering tools were finely-made, thin, silvery things that flickered and twisted in a blur of motion. At a distance, they resembled lawn-mower blades, or threshing machines. But I’ve since come to the conclusion these were fast-moving mandibles made of bright metal. We had spotted a new kind of machine I believe, their equivalent of a technician. Unfortunately, it was to be a very brief glimpse.

Seconds after the dome fizzled, everything else vanished, too. There was a tremendous white flash, like the birth of a new sun. The technician machines vanished. The great factory they had crawled upon like metallic maggots vaporized. Even the hard stony surface it sat upon, which had served to project the defensive dome, could not be found afterward. Needless to say, my six companies of green troops disappeared, too. A huge, roiling cloud rolled up into the sky after the thunderclap. It formed the telltale mushroom shape and stood thousands of feet tall. My main force was far enough away to survive. I think what helped was the crater rim itself. It served to direct the energy of the great blast upward, like a bomb going off in a dish.

After we’d pulled ourselves together and our nanites had healed our scorched skins, we headed toward the second of the last three domes. The regulars that had accompanied us had lost all trace of bravado. Fully a third of them had been blinded or burned so badly they were incapacitated. I flew those survivors out by Nano ship.

The machines let us approach the next dome unmolested. I sent scouts, looking for nuclear mines and the like. The enemy had shown the capacity to learn and surprise us. They also weren’t above using nukes. Perhaps they had shifted their construction efforts to producing them in quantity.

Three days later my cautious force was in sight of the dome. This one stood quietly, as had the last. It shimmered and gleamed, reflecting sunlight and shining with a seemingly sourceless inner power. My artillery commander contacted me as we halted to survey the scene.

“Sir? Request permission to begin ranged bombardment.”

“We’re too far out,” I told him. I raised binoculars to my eyes and swept the field, looking for any sign of the Macros. There was nothing to see. The Alamo had reported no traceable movement, either. The black ovoid ship hung above my army protectively, hovering like a guardian angel.

“Let me try, sir. If this is another trap, then they will have to show themselves. They can’t shoot down my shells if they hide underground.”

I considered the suggestion, and found it reasonable. We still had thirty nuclear-tipped shells in stock. We could afford to use a few on the dome. If nothing else, we could study the effects.

“Very well, fire at will. But only use one special shell in the barrage.”

“Yes sir.”

Within a minute, klaxons wailed. Men all around me hurried for cover. They knew we were far enough out to avoid a burn, and our goggles should save our eyes. But after having seen too many mushroom clouds lately they’d become cautious.

The first salvo arced into the sky. Too high, I was thinking. But the enemy did not come to life and cut them down. The salvo rained down upon the dome and tiny, popping spots appeared all over it, causing it to shimmer and shift color. Another heartbeat passed, and I wondered if the final shell, the special one, hadn’t gone off.

Then the flash came. A rolling boom of thunder shook the landscape. The mushroom cloud was relatively small, but it was big enough. When the livid flaming light had died down sufficiently I searched the area of impact with my binoculars, anxious to see the effects.

The dome still functioned. I was impressed, and raised my eyebrows. You had to give these aliens their due. They could take a beating.

I noticed, however, that the dome had changed in character. It now flickered and flared. It was a burnt orange in color. I lowered my binoculars and contacted the artillery commander.

“Fire again. Two more nukes this time.”

“We can’t fire two, sir, the first will cannibalize the second.”

“What?”

“Only one will go off because the one that hits first will destroy the other as it comes in.”

“Then lead with one, and fire the second right in there at the end of the salvo.”

There was a moment of hesitation. I could hear the commander speaking in Russian to his men. “I think we can manage that, Colonel.”

“Well then do it!” I shouted. “The damned dome is turning white again. And be ready with a third round in case the first two don’t quite do the trick.”

“Sir, do we really want to unleash that many—”

“Yes, damn you, we do. Now fire. That’s an order.”

“Yes sir,” said the artillery commander. He didn’t sound upset. I suspected he’d been yelled at by his superior officers before.

The second bomb had the same effect the first one had. But the third one did the trick. There was no need for a fourth. I had been ready to fire up to half my supply of weapons to finish that dome from a distance. I had no doubt the Macros had prepared something down there for us, something particularly nasty. But we never got the chance to find out what it was.

I lowered my binoculars and smiled at the flaming, smoky hole we’d dug into the farmland. This region might still be blasted a century from now, but at least the machines wouldn’t be ruling it.

After our success on two of the three domes, our army rejoiced. There was a lot of unreleased tension bubbling in my men. They’d expected a grim, horrid surprise. In the end, when the second dome fell more easily than the first had, they were jubilant. I ordered a case of champagne to be sent to the Russian officer’s encampment. They sent back an invitation to join them.

I’d only met the Russian commander at briefings. I recalled his first name was Dmitri. This entire campaign had swept us up and given us no time for pleasantries. We’d had only days to prepare on the Falklands, and I didn’t really know most of the men I was marching with. Perhaps, I thought, I should get to know them. We could take the time now before pressing onward to assault the third and final dome.

Thoughtful, I walked across the crunching gravel of an old roadway. Evening fell over the land, and the stars began popping out in the skies. The lurid red glare of residual fires turned the sky a hazy orange. It would have been pretty, if I hadn’t known the light came from a million burning trees in the distance.

I considered apologizing for my harsh attitude when I met Dmitri, but then decided against it. I would be friendly, but not apologetic. My decisions, so far, had usually been the right ones.

I never made it to the Russian officer’s camp, however. It was the Alamo that stopped me, dead in my tracks.

Incoming contacts.

I turned on one heel and ran back toward my headquarters unit. I didn’t have my rifle or reactor with me. I’d let my guard down. We all had. I would have cursed, but I didn’t have time. I sped up, running with inhuman speed. But it wasn’t fast enough.

How many contacts? I asked my ship.

Over five hundred... six hundred. More every second.

Shit, I thought to the Alamo reflexively. Naturally, the ship didn’t respond. There was no need to.