Christopher Nuttall: Invasion

Communications vanished in a hail of static. “The Homer has been destroyed,” Simon reported, grimly. The lasers would have burned through the armour, flashed through the cockpit and ignited whatever fuel remained in the shuttle. The parasite ships were learning and concentrating their fire on the human ships. Two more vanished within seconds as the missiles lanced closer. “One direct hit; one parasite ship destroyed.”

Gary bit down a curse. The missiles would guarantee the destruction of the parasite ships — if they were allowed to hit them. The aliens now had every reason to burn the missiles out of space before they reached their targets… and the missiles were easy to hit. They weren’t armoured like the shuttles.

“Deploy the rail guns,” he ordered. He’d hoped to hold it in reserve for the Guiding Star , but there was no longer any choice. The lasers just weren’t inflicting enough damage on the alien ships. Their armour was just too strong. Craft designed to skim to the very limits of Earth’s atmosphere wouldn’t be too troubled by their lasers. They just didn’t have the power. “Prepare to engage.”

“Rail guns deployed and locked on target,” Simon said. Three more shuttles vanished in bursts of fire, the wreckage falling down towards the planet below, while one of the parasite ships started to leak air. Somehow, Gary doubted that that would really put the aliens off the attack. They were fighting to protect themselves as well as suppress the human race. “We’re ready to fire.”

“Fire,” Gary ordered.

The rail guns fired pellets at incredibly high velocities. At such speeds, even marshmallows would be dangerous, but the slugs were depleted uranium. The downside was that they were difficult to aim and the alien point defence could still engage them, although they would have to vaporise them completely to be sure of their safety. The shuttles fired several bursts each, while the aliens started to fire their own missiles, their targeting getting more accurate as the two sides closed…

“Got you,” Gary burst out, as one of the parasite ships disintegrated. The pellets had struck the ship so hard that their mass vaporised and converted to energy. The aliens, suddenly very aware of the threat, burned five more shuttles out of space, but one by one, the remaining parasite ships were picked off. They didn’t stand a chance now that they were in range. “What’s our ammunition status?”

“We burned off seventy percent of our total rail gun rounds,” Simon said. Gary cursed under his breath. He’d expected expenditure, but not that much. No simulation had truly grasped how hard the rail guns were to aim. The remaining parasite ships might have been caught out of position, but they were moving now to intercept… and, ahead of them…

He could see the Guiding Star . The alien battle section hadn’t been moving, but now, judging by the emissions, it was on the verge of bringing up its main drive and trying to escape. They couldn’t allow that to happen; the aliens would simply find a piece of space junk and push it down towards Earth. If they aimed properly, they wouldn’t even kill many of their own people, although they’d have to be carefully. He allowed himself to consider the prospect of an alien own goal by dropping an asteroid in the Indian Ocean, before checking his console one final time.

“Take us in,” he ordered, running through it again in his head. The aliens could bring up their drive now and still cheat the human race out of victory, but they would never forget this day. “Bring the remaining weapons online and prepare to fire.”

The alien shuttles, particularly those designed for civilian service — insofar as they had civilians — were superior to the human-built craft in one very neat respect; they had portholes. Brent, despite feeling a little sick as the gravity ebbed away into nothingness, found the view of Earth to be exhilarating. It was easy to see why the aliens wanted Earth now; he would have happily paid half of his salary just for the chance to see the Earth from space, if only for a few seconds. The thought reminded him, though, that if the aliens won, the only humans who would see the sight would be their collaborators… and those raised within their religion.

Perhaps that’s what they have in mind for us , he thought, as the shuttle tilted slightly. It was harder to breathe the alien air than he had expected — it was hot and very dry — but somehow he held himself together. Luke, of course, looked utterly untroubled by the temperature; for him, of course, it was just like coming home. The aliens were, in their own way, as adaptable as humans, but they preferred a given environment and created it for themselves wherever possible. Perhaps there would be aliens who would be happy to live in Antarctica or at the North Pole, but somehow he suspected that they would prefer the Middle East and the other hot zones on Earth.

He’d expected, somehow, to see lights and starfighters zipping past, but the laws of physics didn’t allow such things, not outside of a science-fiction movie. There was a battle raging behind them, according to the radars and the download from the alien ships, but there was no sign of it in the darkness of space, not even twinkling lights. The engineers had warned that if they were detected, the shuttle wouldn’t provide more than a moment’s protection against the lasers defending the Guiding Star, but so far, it seemed that they had passed unnoticed. Their survival was proof of that.

“They have accepted our clearance codes and have granted us permission to dock,” Luke said. The alien didn’t even have the decency to look winded by the effort of speaking in a thoroughly alien tongue. Of course, to him it was as warm and natural as English. “They’re suggesting, very strongly, that we expedite.”

Pearson glanced over at him. “Do they say why?”

“There’s a human attack force following us and engaging the parasite ships,” Luke said. If Brent didn’t know better, he would have sworn that the alien was learning sarcasm. “They’re going to bring up the drive and attempt to escape.”

Brent frowned. “Can they do that?”

“If what we were told about the ship is accurate, then yes, they can simply outrun the attacking craft and make it to high orbit or even further away,” Pearson said. “If they do that, we’ve lost.”

It first appeared as a twinkling star, hanging over the Earth, and then rapidly swelled into a shining Matchbox toy, a city hanging in space. Brent had seen the images from the space-based telescopes when the starship was heading towards Earth, and then the much more detailed images taken from the ground when the aliens had opened fire and brought so much death and destruction to the world, but none of them had truly captured its immensity. There had been nothing in human experience to compare it to, no words that could capture it and bind it to a common reality, a shared understanding of what it was. It was beyond imagination, beyond perception; he could barely make out tiny fractions of the immense whole…

It was conical, floating in orbit, and yet it wasn’t smooth. Like the rest of the alien technology, it had an almost crude appearance, despite the advanced science that had gone into building it. Spacecraft of all kinds fussed around it, while others hung on the hull like barnacles to a watery spacecraft, clinging on for dear life. He could see the shape of a parasite ship, clear even at their distance, and wondered why it hadn’t been launched to take part in the battle. The conical landing craft, the ones that condemned an army to victory or inevitable destruction, could be seen, in perfect position for launch.