Peter David - Battleship

“Pentagon, sir!” called the communications officer. “Got Fitzroy on the horn.”

The vice admiral. Good. Shane was in no mood to talk to the Secretary of Defense. Shane grabbed the phone and said, “Sir, the jamming array has been terminated. I repeat—terminated.” When the communications officer gave him a quick thumbs-up, he added, “Comms are up, the signal is down. I’m getting our birds in the air and radioing the other carriers. With any luck, we’re turning this thing around.”

They were bold words, he knew, but there was just one problem: the Reagan was a super-carrier, not exactly built for speed. The ship topped out at about 30 knots, which meant it would still take them a while to get to the scene of the action. And if there was one thing Shane had learned in his time, it was that in combat situations, things could turn around very, very quickly.

The air was thick with the smell of smoke, which was in turn fighting for dominance with the aroma of ionization rising from the disrupted power cells.

In the Jeep, the airbags had deployed at the moment that Sam, at the wheel, had driven it headlong into the antennae array. Both driver and passenger sides, fortunately, were equipped, but nevertheless Sam and Mick were somewhat dazed from the impact. Sam looked up and made a face when she saw that there was a dead alien a few feet in front of her, pinned against the upright remains of the array by the front of the car.

Suddenly Sam picked up movement out the corner of her eye and saw that another of the wide-shouldered warrior aliens was coming toward her fast. She tried to climb free of the Jeep and get the hell out of its way, but the wreckage of the tower had fallen across her. None of its weight was upon her—the structure of the Jeep, including the front windshield, was supporting it—but it was blocking her ability to clamber free. “I’d really like to get out now,” she said with growing urgency as the alien drew nearer.

Suddenly she shrieked as something grabbed at her from the other direction. She turned and saw, to her relief, it was Mick. He’d obviously regained consciousness, and was lucky enough to be unencumbered by any manner of obstruction. An army-issue fighting knife in his hand, Mick quickly cut apart the seat belt around her waist. He then tried to lift away the crossbar, but it wouldn’t budge.

The alien warrior was practically on top of them, and that was when Mick distracted it while calling out, “Hang tough, Sam. This one is mine.”

He rocketed out of his door and stepped between the alien and Sam just before it reached her, chambering a round into his shotgun.

The warrior stopped, looking momentarily confused, as if it wasn’t sure what Mick’s intentions were. Mick made it abundantly clear as he fired a round from the shotgun at point-blank range.

The assault rocked the creature back on its heels, but otherwise it was unhurt. Its hand speared forward before Mick could make a countermove and it knocked the shotgun effortlessly out of his hands. Automatically Mick tried to go in the direction of the fallen shotgun, but the warrior didn’t allow it. Instead, with a casual sweep of its right hand, it knocked Mick to the ground, his steel legs going out from under him.

Grabbing the edge of the Jeep, Mick immediately hauled himself back to his feet. “Come and get it,” Mick said defiantly, saying and doing anything to distract the thing from Sam.

The alien was all too happy to oblige him. It came in fast and proceeded to dismantle Mick with an array of blows to the head and chest. Sam watched, helpless and frustrated, as Mick waged a war of futility against his far stronger opponent. Whenever Mick did manage to land a blow, it was against the creature’s armor, which barely seemed to register any of the impact. Indeed, the warrior appeared to be enjoying Mick’s ineffectiveness.

Once more it knocked Mick to the ground. Lying there, the world swimming around him, Mick’s hand fell upon a sizable rock with a pointed end. Even as he wrapped his fingers around it, he tried to wave the creature off, going so far as to plead in what sounded like a whining voice, “Please, no… don’t hurt me anymore! Don’t—!”

Apparently the alien enjoyed brutalizing helpless foes. It reached down toward Mick, yanking him to his artificial feet, and that was the moment that Mick swung the rock around, aiming for the junction point of where the creature’s helmet was joined with its armor.

It staggered from the impact and Mick pounded away furiously. The noise was echoing within its helmet, and apparently the loud ringing it must have been causing wasn’t something that the alien could easily endure. It had lost its hold on Mick when he first struck it, and now it flailed at him, trying to get its hands back on him. Mick sidestepped the alien and jammed the rock forward as hard as he could.

He heard a crunch and the sound of something breaking within the armor. The helmet came flying off its head, revealing a butt-ugly face, which Mick promptly made even uglier as he slammed the rock into it. There appeared to be some manner of tubes visible in the top of the armor, and Mick’s assault broke some of them, causing what appeared to be salt water to pour all over the place.

“Kill it!” shouted Sam, even as she continued to try to push against the girder and free herself. “Hurry—!”

Her phone rang.

It was on the seat next to her, but she couldn’t see it. She shoved her hand down to her side blindly and was relieved when her hand found it. She managed to extract her arm and shoved the phone against her ear. “Not the best time!” she said.

“Sam!” Hopper’s voice crackled over the connection. “The comm’s working! Can you hear me!”

“Hopper, is that you? You’re alive!” Suddenly she felt a jolt in the Jeep and she turned to see that the pinned alien against the array wasn’t as dead as it could have been. “Hopper, we took out the array—!”

“No you didn’t! I see it!”

She looked up and her heart sank. He was right. Like a flower being restored to life, it—like the alien that was still trapped against the Jeep—was throbbing with renewed energy. The power had been at least partly restored and now the array was tilting upward, aiming itself at the satellite that would serve as the summoning beacon to the rest of the invading race.

“We’re ready to fire on this end!” he said. “Where are you in relation to the dish! Did you get clear of it after you tried to take it down?”

Sam’s eyes were on the power cells, fully glowing again, and the dishes, which were ninety percent fully restored and growing stronger with every passing moment. These things aren’t mechanical. They’re bio-organic somehow. And if Hopper doesn’t blast them to hell and gone…

She checked her watch, saw that the deadline was drawing near, and forced a smile into her voice. “I’m on the other side of the island. I’m clear. Do it.”

The pinned warrior was starting to shake the car violently in its endeavors to free itself. From behind her she heard grunts of struggling, Mick against his own opponent, but she didn’t have time to do anything about it even if she could. There was a gun in the well of the passenger seat and she tried to reach for it with what limited mobility she had. The tips of her desperate fingers came three inches short.

“ Where are you?” Hopper didn’t sound convinced.

The trapped alien was pushing against the Jeep. She realized the ignition was still on, the car still running. She shoved the accelerator to the floor, trying to push the car forward. The creature grunted under the additional pressure and pushed the Jeep back, trying to free itself. She put it in drive and kept the alien pinned. Hopper was calling her name over the phone and then she saw what looked like some sort of ray blaster snap into existence on the creature’s shoulder. Oh, shit , she thought, but then instead of anything lethal coming out of the business end, some energy crackled around it harmlessly before dissipating. She breathed a sigh of relief. She must have damaged the armor’s offensive capabilities when she’d hit it with the car.