Paul Hughes: Enemy

Something caught his eye: a shooting star.

A smile lit Buddy’s face. The arc of light across the black sky flew across the face of the moon.

Buddy’s smile faltered. Shooting stars are not triangular.

A visceral and sensual flood of memory engulfed Buddy as he remembered high school geometry class, Miss Banks interrogating young rough Buddy on the difference between an isosceles and an equilateral triangle.

I don’t know.

But you’ll have to know for the test, Buddy.

Who cares? When will I ever need to know about triangles out on the fucking docks? When will I ever need any of this?

He blinked and Miss Banks, the unfortunate mixture of teacher, disciplinarian, and creator of countless pubescent schoolboy mid-class erections was gone, replaced by a burning light in the sky, painful to look at directly.

He followed the path of the shooting star. Didn’t meteors usually blink out after a second or two? This one looked like—

It was going to hit the lake.

Buddy staggered and fell backwards as the sky became fire and a sickening heat. It was going to hit the boat, he was sure of it.

Buddy screamed at the impact.

A massive plume of water erupted from the lake.

The lights on the boat began to furiously bob up and down. The vessel struggled to maintain horizontal, and it scarcely avoided rolling over completely. Good lord , Buddy thought. Think of the wave that’ll make.

Seconds later, Buddy was encompassed in the twenty-foot wall of water that washed the beach. The shockwave and concussion knocked him against the ground, and cold bitter water flooded his open mouth and stole his breath. Flailed around like a rag, Buddy was pulled back into the lake as the water receded. He fought to right himself, his lungs on fire and his world becoming sheer frigid black.

Buddy McClure’s neck was broken against the rocks in an inaudible snap as he joined his old friend Jim Beam on the lakebed.

“Report!”

“Horizontal maintained, stress breaches belowdecks. We have men in the water.”

“What in the name of Sweet Mother Mary was that?”

“We don’t know, sir. Complete radar failure, and we’re running on reserve power. We’re trying to contact—”

“We’re taking on too much water. We can’t—”

“Get Fleet on the com. Someone has to find out what the hell that was, and we’re going to be a little too busy saving our own asses in a few minutes to give a rat’s ass. Call in the nearest Line vessel.”

“Fleet is sending the Indomitable, sir.”

“They’re twenty fucking miles away! Tell Fleet to lock in the line and we’ll launch our lifecraft. The Indomitable better haul ass.”

“Yes, sir.”

a white place, out of time.

the judas persevered.

waging a war out of time and space, they chased the enemy, dying to prevent the damnable purpose.

within the white place, a distress signal was found.

[commander? a beacon from judas gethsemane magdalene. priority channel.]

“What’s she say?”

[enemy sighted and tracked on direct alpha purpose transit. the purpose nears completion.]

“Harvest?”

hatred. knowledge of past failures.

[they’re apparently ready to synthesize the upload generators.]

contemplation. realization.

“Open channel to Judas Simon.”

[done.]

((hannah?))

“Simon, we’ve identified and tracked Enemy vessels on a direct-Alpha run. Is your fleet prepared for combat?”

((we’re at 90%, but no one’s been able to find maggie—))

“She’s already there. We sent her on a recon run in Fourteen-seven. She found a nest, and they’re ready to complete their mission.”

((fourteen-seven? that’s five thousand years earlier than we—))

“Take your fleet and intercept the Enemy before they can make it to the Alpha Point. Find them in transit and destroy them. It will buy us a little more time to gather our other forces for the final assault.”

((and magdalene?))

Indeed. And Magdalene..?

“She’s been wounded. Her beacon was very weak. It wouldn’t be a good idea to—”

((wounded? how seriously is she hurt? can she make it back?))

“Simon, we don’t have time for this.”

((i’ll make the time for it, hannah.))

“Fine. Go get her, but be careful. We don’t know how many Enemy that When holds.”

((yes, commander.))

“Then it’s set. Engage Shadow drives.”

Within the white place, she watched as Simon’s forces faded from existence.

So Magdalene is still alive…That will have to be remedied.

“And there she goes.”

The ASCL Freeman Teller drifted with increasing speed beneath the surface of the lake. The lifecraft stood by and watched as their mothership went vertical and slid into the depths. Spotlights swept the area, and the small vessels surveyed the dark waters for overboard seamen.

“How many?”

“Still over thirty men unaccounted for, sir. Tracking chips aren’t responding.”

“Keep looking. How far away is the Indomitable?”

“Closing quickly. That’s her to the northeast.”

Across the expanse of the lake, they observed a fast-approaching vessel. It was the same model as the Teller, one of the Containment Line. The Indomitable cruised quickly and quietly up to the impact zone, and flooded the area with light. The deck guns swept back and forth in readiness.

The Indomitable would find and destroy whatever had sunk the Teller.

Harkness. 2:30 A.M.

The eight dark figures that emerged from the lake surfaced half a mile down the beach from where Buddy McClure’s broken body lay. They were cold, wet, exhausted, and confused, now trapped on a world that was thousands of years younger than the worlds they had known.

In silence, they faced the lake as Reynald activated a small control panel on his forearm. A bright flash came from within the lake as a miniature quantum singularity engulfed the lifeboat.

At first, it appeared that nothing had happened. The vessel that had come to the aid of the sunken ship was still visible out there, but then, for an impossible instant, the very surface of the lake seemed to bulge outward and contract back in. With an ear-splitting roar, the explosion rose to the surface, incinerating the Indomitable and the lifecraft of the Freeman Teller almost immediately. There was little debris, and even that was quickly pulled under. The surface of the lake returned to its original placid state.

The men turned from the lake and began to walk.

“We’ll scan for Magdalene.” Reynald did not sound hopeful. “I saw her come down behind us. She can’t be that far away.”

“Do you think anyone saw us come down?”

“I don’t know, but someone is bound to be suspicious when that boat doesn’t report in. Let’s get as far away as possible.”

They slid into the night.

“Has the Containment Line reported anything?”

“Nothing, sir. We have five vessels closing on the site.”

“How could something have slipped through the Line?”

“Mr. President, we haven’t ruled out a mechanical failure. It could just be —”

Jennings slammed his fist to the table, covered with satellite reports and faxes. “Two of our ships are gone, Cervera. That’s over three hundred of our sailors. This isn’t an accident. Someone is attacking us.”

“But—”

“No buts. I want that area secured. Tell the Harkness Chickenshit Rescue Squad to pull back from the site. Have the Line close in. I want the whole damned county sealed off. No one gets into or out of Harkness, Michigan. That site has to be secure.”

“Mr. President—”

“Cervera, would you like me to relieve you of duty? God knows I’ve wanted to for years. Don’t give me a reason to now, Tony, when I need your cooperation the most. Someone’s trying to start a goddamned war out there. Secure the area.”