Дэвид Муди - Screaming Eagles

An explosion lit their view. Yuri looked away, because the flash had been bright enough to remind him of catching a glimpse of the sun without a spacesuit’s visor down—something that could ruin your vision for good.

“Well, goodnight!” Sheppard exclaimed.

Ryu slid into the Cupola and didn’t utter a word.

Pieces leapt away from each object. Some accelerated the short distance to make impact with explosive effect, while beams leapt out and obliterated others. The ISS was rocked by one shockwave after another.

“This is no good,” Yuri said. He had the overriding desire to rush off and do a full systems inspection. The solar panels maintained a very tenuous grip on the space station due to the nature of zero-g, and shockwaves were not the kind of thing they were built to withstand.

Lights erupted in space behind them, and for the first time they got a look at the larger object.

Sleek: that was the best way to describe it. The object was oblong with rounded ends, like a giant cigar. There were no discernible lines except for the random veins. Ports snapped open to emit jagged objects that raced away, with points of light glowing from their rears.

The other craft was much smaller, but danced circles around the first. Its signature was not as smooth, but rounder, and there were a number of protrusions like blisters along the hull.

“India and Pakistan?” Yuri said, and knew immediately how silly it sounded. If those two nations ever got craft into space, he doubted they’d start a war up there. They were more likely to start nuking each other back on good old Earth. So what did that leave?

“That is some shit right there,” Sheppard said.

Yuri closed his mouth, raised his camera and took pictures as fast as the device could ready itself.

A massive shock raced along the smaller craft’s hull and it fell away suddenly, but not before a pod the size of a sports stadium broke away and became invisible. The larger craft hovered in place for a few seconds before withdrawing over the horizon of the space station until it could be seen no longer.

Another wave hit the ISS, and something snapped. Yuri didn’t hear it, but he felt it. The station thrummed and shook with something that was wrong.

“Not good,” Ryu said, and dove through the hatch.

Sheppard was next, and Yuri was right behind him. Alarms echoed up and down the passageways.

Yuri slid out of the lab and went to the Russian side of the space station. He floated in front of his computer and stared at the readout. His radio crackled to life, and a voice from home requested an immediate sitrep.

Yuri paused to collect his thoughts, then said something that they would never believe back home. When he was done he rejoined Sheppard and Ryu.

“Something else is moving. It’s that big round thing,” Yuri observed.

A second explosion occurred half a minute later, in the direction the first ship had departed from.

“What was that?” Sheppard yelled.

“I believe it is called revenge. Now both objects have gone,” Yuri replied. “No, not gone. They are in pieces.”

He stood stock still as he considered the implications. The planet Earth may have just been visited by aliens, but instead of coming in peace or for conquest, the two had eliminated each other from space.

He took a deep breath, and prepared to issue an order to evacuate the space station.

Victor was already having a bad day, thanks to the noisy downstairs neighbors who’d kept him and Laura up half the night. Then the sky opened up and tried to kill him.

Rain pelted the overhang in a steady rhythm that washed away the sounds of cars racing along 1st Avenue. The downfall came so fast and heavy that at times Victor wondered if a marching band had taken up residence above and decided to use the shelter’s roof as practice for a college football game.

He dared not look up, because his rain jacket had seen better days, and if a hint of wind caught his hood, he would likely end up with a face full of water. He wished he could have stayed in bed with Laura and ridden out the storm.

A woman hustled to the overhang. Her hood was black, and her face was barely visible in the dark confines. She carried a silver-colored coffee mug in one hand and a closed umbrella in the other. Tucked up under her arm, her purse displayed some kind of designer label—probably something Laura would like, if he could afford it.

She pressed herself next to Victor and looked up, like she’d never seen so much rain in her life. The woman pushed back, to the dismay of those jammed inside the tiny space. She ignored their sighs and curses and sipped her coffee while staring straight ahead.

If this kept up, Victor was sure to catch a cold, and that would mean fighting for a day off from work, which he could not afford. Victor’s boss Jacob didn’t believe in sick days, even if his employees were dead on their feet. No sense in arguing that it was a good idea to keep everyone else from coming down with the same thing.

To take his mind off his misery, he imagined sitting in his warm apartment, a cup of coffee in one hand, the other on his wife’s leg. They’d be sitting on the couch while a fire roared away in the fireplace ten feet away. Maybe the brats would even sleep late, and let them enjoy an hour of silence. Maybe he’d ask Laura to join him in bed for an intimate break, her legs wrapped around his waist while he stared into her jade-hued eyes.

A 4X4 barreled down the avenue and shattered his little daydream. It swerved near the curb and hit a puddle the size of Lake Michigan. Water flew in a wave and pelted everyone under the bus shelter.

A guy wearing a black pea coat and hustling down the street managed to turn his head and get his umbrella into the path of destruction, but it was too late, and he ended up wearing a gallon.

“Son of a bitch!”

He glared after the car, shook water off his now-soaking pants, and stalked toward the truck as it stopped at a red light.

What was the man going to do about the guy in the truck, anyway? Pull him out and beat the shit out of him? The truck spun hard to the right and was gone before the man was remotely close. He shook his fist, middle finger extended, and screamed profanity.

Victor’s already crappy day became worse, because his own pants were now completely soaked, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. That was exactly how his luck had gone from the moment he’d stepped out of the apartment.

His days always started early, but today he’d had to hustle a half hour early, thanks to a bus schedule change… that, and he couldn’t sleep, thanks to the assholes downstairs.

He knew Laura was right. He couldn’t stand his job much longer, but the market was dry right now, so he’d have to continue his construction job for the time being. Why even bother applying for something else? His inquiries had gone unanswered.

She’d harped on him for quitting school, reminding him over and over that he’d be somewhere right now if he hadn’t, and they wouldn’t be living paycheck to paycheck.

When he’d tried to leave the apartment this morning, he’d found himself blocked in.

The jerk on the first floor spent his days smoking weed. In the summer, when the back door had to be open to keep the upstairs apartment cool, the smell wafted up and filled Victor’s living room on an hourly basis. Even though it was improbably early, it seemed that the downstairs neighbor’s buddy had shown up, probably to sell him more pot, and in the process had impeded Victor’s car.

That had led to a near-fight, when the Cubans visiting the apartment had told him to go get fucked. The only thing had that stopped him from storming into the apartment and probably getting beaten to a pulp was the fact that Laura had been upstairs with the brats.