Steven Kent: The Clone Redemption

One of the SEALs shined a laser on pipes and panels to test for vibrations and found nothing. Petty Officer Andrew Call aimed a torch at a patch of frost from a pipe that was so big around he could have stood in it. The gray layer turned to steam under the heat and quickly evaporated.

Speaking on an open frequency, Call asked Illych, “Do you want me to cut the pipe open?” He did not refer to the master chief as “sir.” By design, none of the cloned SEALs were officers.

“Didn’t you say the pipe is empty?” Illych asked.

“As far as I can tell.”

“What’s the point in cutting it open?”

“It will give us a chance to see what it’s made of,” said Call. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It X-rays easily, but I can’t find wires or circuits, none of the components you expect to find inside a machine. Whatever passes for power around here, it’s not electricity-based.”

Illych considered this. “Hold off,” he said. “For now, let’s just figure out what we’re dealing with.”

Illych stood at the edge of the foundation, tracing the shapes of the pipes that formed the structure. The building had an organic, random feeling. Like vines in jungle, the pipes weaved in and out in a haphazard braid. So much frost covered the pipes that they looked like an ice sculpture, but only a thin layer of powdery frost had formed on the foundation. Looking for footprints in that powder, Illych thought that centuries might have passed since the aliens had last visited the facility.

Using optical commands, he raised the volume of the sound sensors in his helmet so that he could better monitor the ambient sounds. He heard only the mouselike whisper of the wind and the footsteps of his men. The planet had a thin atmosphere, and much of it was frozen.

The master chief went to an N-shaped stand of pipes and tapped it with his finger. He could see the structure of the pipes deep inside a dirty frozen layer. Using a knife, he scraped the skin of the ice, letting the peelings fall into an analysis kit.

He checked the reading, saw nothing of importance, and scraped deeper. The kit checked for radiation, chemicals, and age. The content of the ice remained the same; but as Illych gouged deeper into the frozen sheath, the age changed. The readings struck Illych as odd, but he did not question the results.

“Do you think this belongs to the same aliens that invaded us?” asked Kapeliela.

“I’m sure of it,” said Illych.

“This place is weird. I never seen anything like it,” said Kapeliela.

“It looks like a refinery,” said Illych.

Kapeliela agreed. “Yeah, an abandoned refinery. That makes sense, but it’s been out of service for a long, long time.”

Chief Petty Officer Humble joined the conversation. “So what? It’s a refinery?”

Illych asked, “What kind of ships did the aliens fly when they attacked our planets?”

“They didn’t have …”

“You don’t need remote fuel depots once you stop flying ships,” Illych said.

Beside the building, a row of twenty-seven identical cylindrical structures rose out of the ground. They stood 970 feet tall. They had the same hyperbolic shape as the cooling towers of nuclear power facilities only turned upside down. The structures were wider at the top than at the base.

While Illych and his men surveyed the building, Chief Petty Officer Humble’s team studied the towers. Using equipment in his helmet, Humble measured the nearest tower—223 feet wide at the base and 352 feet wide at the top.

“You got anything?” Illych asked Humble.

“Yeah. It’s like these things are made of eggshells,” Humble said. “Once you get through all the ice, the walls are a twentieth of an inch thick. I’m surprised they don’t collapse under the weight of the ice.”

“Can you see inside it?” Illych asked.

“Yeah, they X-ray right up. They’re empty and hollow all the way down.”

“All the way down?” Illych asked.

“If you think this thing is tall, you should see how far down it goes.”

“How far?”

“Over a mile.”

“Do you think it’s a silo?” Illych asked.

“That’s my best guess; but it’s empty.”

Kapeliela waited for Illych to run out of questions, then asked one of his own. “Do we know if these pipes are made of the same stuff?”

“They aren’t as thin as eggshells,” Illych said. “It looks like this place was abandoned a long, long time ago. Some of the ice on these pipes is over a hundred thousand years old.”

That was when Illych saw the light. All of the SEALs saw it. A dull sun shone in the distance; but far brighter light now shone directly above them. Having been briefed about the invasion of their own galaxy, the SEALs knew what that light meant. The aliens had arrived.

“Looks like the home team knows we’re here,” said Illych. A few yards away, Call left his X-ray camera beside a pipe and pulled out his gun. Three of the SEALs carried pistols, six carried M27s, three carried sniper rifles. All of their weapons were loaded with custom-made rounds, bullets designed to explode like miniature grenades.

“Okay, we’ve trained for this,” Illych told his men.

Light so bright it almost looked solid shone on the other side of the building. The SEALs knew what to expect: First came the light, then the aliens that traveled inside it.

Illych told his men, “Take your positions. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” He did not believe they would.

Illych held no delusions about being rescued. No one would come to the planet to save them. If his men had any hope of survival, they would need to make it out on their own.

Believing that he and his men would not survive the next five minutes, Illych decided to die on his own terms. The only thing that mattered now was reporting what little they had learned before the aliens “sleeved” the planet. The light in the sky, dubbed by scientists as an “ion curtain,” would quickly enclose the planet, ending all transmissions. Once it spread over the platform, the SEALs would be cut off.

With his team running beside him, Illych relayed findings to the fleet as he dashed from pipes to cylinders to pillars. He kept his M27 out and ready though he still had not yet seen the enemy.

“The atmosphere is toxic, mostly nitrogen and carbon monoxide. The building appears to be a refinery. We think it is out of use but cannot be sure. It’s covered with ice. The ice on the pipes is a hundred thousand years old. I checked the samples myself.”

The pilot of the transport interrupted Illych’s message. “Find a safe position. I’m coming to get you.”

“Negative. Do not attempt to retrieve us.”

The pilot did not argue the point.

An officer from the Onoda asked, “Master Chief, have one of your men fire at the cylinders.”

Illych relayed the order. “Humble, fire a burst at one of the silos.”

Already one hundred yards away, Humble spun and fired five rounds into the nearest silo. Had they been regular rounds, the bullets might have ricocheted off. The special rounds struck the target and exploded.

Even as he pulled the trigger, Humble realized that the bullets should have triggered a chain reaction. They should have broken through the thin wall and caused the structure to collapse.

Seeing that his bullets did not penetrate the silo, Humble fired five more shots. The bullets burst like small grenades, a pop, a flash, a flame. Anyone standing a few feet from the explosions would have been thrown in the air. The bullets blew away the frost, but they did not scratch the structure.

“Bulletproof,” said Humble. He sprinted to catch up to the men in his squad.

Instead of beams, walls, and doorways, the building had pipes and empty spaces. As he ran, Illych looked for elevators or ladders that would lead to the top of the structure. He found nothing.