Spaceship Excalibur

Destination: Toward the Outer Solar System

Michael was sitting in the Excalibur’s pilot’s chair, looking at the black space in front of him and thinking of those last hours before they went to greet the demons. No matter how time-constrained they were, a few essential preparations were needed for them to even up the odds in the coming encounter.

They first had to take as many Hammers from the Earth’s orbit and bring them to the Ascension. Which in turn had to be secured on external mounts on a dozen transporters so they could be launched when the command was given. The unknown was if they would suffice in case if things took a turn for the worse, especially with Hammers being purely kinetic weapons. Efficient at transferring gained kinetic energy to the object they hit with enough acceleration, still, a far cry from the proper missiles. Michael really hoped that they were not bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Exactly at the predicted time, all the telescopes picked up the images of the translation event and the ship that had arrived at the outskirts of the Solar System. The images were a bit grainy, yet clearly showed a craft very similar to the one seen in the recordings from the Hemina system. As Max’s sensors detected, it was one ship, and thankfully, a lot smaller than those two-mile-long behemoths that had bombarded Gaina. Still, it was ten times bigger than the Excalibur and several shapes on its red hull indicated weapons placements; something that the Excalibur lacked.

Each transporter had two Hammers attached to its hull, the most they could scrounge up on such short notice. Out of those, twenty were standard, and four were something Max modified at the last minute. They knew demons could detect the Gravity-drives, and all Hammers were using them for their propulsion; but those modified four had solid-fuel rockets attached to their sides, and camouflage shrouds, which should make them harder to detect. It was a crude implementation of old and new technologies that should give them an upper hand. It would be a bummer if they turned out to be paper dragons.

“So boss, do you think they came carrying an olive branch in their hands?” Pete asked as he sat in one of the additional chairs installed on the bridge, just before the takeoff.

“Only if they plan to bludgeon our heads with it. With all the information Max discovered about the origin of their species, I do not see them repressing those violent urges in a million years, let alone thirteen thousand. I have a feeling that we will have to slug this one out,” he replied.

“And what are our odds?” His friend quietly asked.

“Not so bad, considering they caught us with our pants down. One thing is for sure, that ship will be stopped… one way or the other.”

His thoughts took a dark turn for a while, as he was ready to do anything to ensure the last thing he said to Pete. He remembered the goodbyes before they boarded the ship and Alice’s anger at being excluded from this mission. There was a good reason behind that decision, even if only those aboard the Excalibur knew it, and agreed to it.

At first, he planned to go at it alone, but the guys saw right through him. The transporters were in essence weapons delivery systems, and a distraction. In fact, the Excalibur could have made the trip much faster than they could, but in that case, they would be at a disadvantage. There was strength in numbers, and they did look a bit more intimidating flying in a group. More importantly, all the transporters were in front of the Excalibur, hiding it from view and detection.

They would try to use the Hammers, and he hoped they would be successful. However, if that plan failed, he was intending to use the camouflage effect of the ship and repeat the tactics that the angel colony ship’s captain Mikell used in the ancient past. If they were left with no other option, the Excalibur would ram the demon ship, and with a bit of luck—destroy it. Max gave a 50% chance of surviving such an encounter. He couldn’t say that to Elizabeth and the others, they could do nothing about it. Besides, it was just a possibility, but one that made him cautious as they approached the rendezvous point, knowing they may never return home.

Still, they had three days of flight before trajectories of the two ships connected, and one cannot dwell on negatives, all of the time. They passed the time in a long-honored military tradition known as hurry up and wait. They even organized a card-playing tournament, with some high stakes; from armor polishing to food preparation, and Tyron’s favorite—hair removal. Since he didn’t have any on his head, he put his chest hair in the pot, and boredom was such that nobody complained about it. Well, Al complained when he lost and had to be completely shaved. This was funny as he was quite tanned, and without any hair to cover up his scalp, he looked like he was wearing a white helmet.

Days passed, and before long, they were in proximity to the alien ship so communications could be established. In the next few hours, the fate of one of the ships would be decided. Their approaching speed was carefully calculated so there was no chance for the arriving spacecraft to turn back and escape. If such a situation occurred, the Excalibur would leave the other transporters and chase it.

“Is everything ready?” Michael asked, adjusting his battle-suit helmet.

“Yes, all communication will be routed through the leading transporter, and the others are strategically positioned to offer us some cover. It would be hard for them to see us, even if they can somehow detect us through our camouflage,” Max answered.

“Okay, call them.”

***

Demon Scout Ship

Captain1 was observing the approaching crafts for quite some time, detecting their Gravity-drives from the moment they started their flight from a station close to the planet.

They were small and strange-looking, all of them could dock within his scout ship, and there would be room to spare. He did not understand what the purpose of their arrival was and did not see them as a threat. Were these angels so distanced from their history that they forgot what happened to their world? The tactics they showed so far resembled some of the civilizations’ demons had conquered. First, they send emissaries offering peace, then they plead for the life of their people; futile attempts of weaklings, of course.

This universe favored the strong. Those who could not establish their dominance were created to serve or become food, and his race has never met challengers stronger than themselves. Some managed to offer a pathetic initial resistance, but in the end, all submitted to the demons’ will. Well… all but one. But they were never openly discussed.

There were a few anomalies in this system, mainly a big spherical station that was approaching the third planet. He smiled when the ship’s sensors first detected it, and was glad that the descendants of escaped angels were so industrious. He would claim the station for himself; an appropriate battle souvenir for someone of his future standing.

“Captain1, they are hailing us on an old angel frequency, what is your command?” Astrogator2 questioned.

“Open a channel, there is no reason why I shouldn't have some fun; the fear in their eyes will bring me joy.”

A screen before him turned on and the face of a lowly angel appeared. He found this image strange; the only time he saw grown angels with their wings intact was in the old recordings.

“I am Captain1, here to claim this system to the glory of the demon race.”

That was the first thing he said, establishing dominance from the start was always preferable. He had no doubt they would understand him, the scout’s computers had translation matrices with stored angel language.

“Pleased to meet you, Captain1, but you must be mistaken, this system has been already occupied, maybe you could try the next one, I hear the weather is much nicer there.” The angel responded in a fluent demonic language.

“How is that you speak my language?”

For the first time, he felt a small apprehension; this was very strange.

“Ah… you know, we like to learn, some of your people visited us before, and we exchanged ideas, some native arts, and such. Would you like us to meet in person, it is a custom of my race to share a meal with new visitors; it brings us all closer together.” The angel was talking nonsense and smiling, not an expression he had ever seen on the faces of the slaves.

“We are heading to your world, to set the terms of your annexation. There is no point in continuing this conversation.” He cut the feed and looked at the approaching ships. Something didn't seem right, his instincts were telling him he was facing an enemy, but his eyes only saw a low member of the slave race. Still, he didn’t survive this long by disregarding those same instincts.

“Destroy those ships,” he gave the order to the Wepons3.

In the next few seconds, he saw twelve missile trails going much faster than his ship, on a direct intercept course with the small vessels. In his mind, the approaching ships were already destroyed; in any case, he had many other pleasant things to think about. There was an entire planet of angels waiting for him, to establish his dominance. After a show of force with a few cities destroyed from orbit, they would surrender, and he would return to his progenitor as a hero and a conqueror.

***

Spaceship Excalibur

“Well… that didn’t work, and Max even made an effort to CGI a familiar angel image, to put him at ease,” Michael said.

“Yep, not exactly a meet-and-greet kind of fellow,” Al quipped.

On the holo-screen that showed the overall tactical position of the ships, several dots of light detached from the demon ship and rushed toward their location.

“Talk to me, Max.”

“He just fired twelve missiles at us, I assume for the twelve transporters. Their flight time will be a little more than three minutes, and it seems they cannot detect us under the camouflage. At least that worked, I won’t even comment on your diplomacy skills,” Max replied with a smirk.

“Right then, launch all the Hammers, and see if your transporters can evade those missiles. If he is not able to see us, let’s approach him from a different angle.”

The Excalibur picked up speed, utilizing its own add-on solid-fuel boosters. The distance between it and transporters, which were still following a straight line, increased exponentially. The expanse those approaching missiles had to cross was immense, but in the medium of space, it was all about the acceleration, and they had plenty of it. In the last few seconds before contact, transporters veered off course in all directions, but those missiles followed them and detonated when they made contact with their targets.

Michael sighed, “We can at least be glad that they were empty,” he said, watching as twelve transporters disappeared from the holographic map. “Let’s see what our Hammers will do.”

The Hammers were accelerating from the moment they were launched, closing in on the approaching vessel. Michael held his breath, knowing that the next few seconds would determine their fate. As the countdown reached ten seconds before they were to reach the demon ship, bright beams of light erupted from it and twenty Hammers disappeared in the cloud of plasma.

Their four camouflaged brothers were shadowing the rest. Flying so close, their drives emissions were masked. As the twenty were destroyed, the Gravity-drives in the remaining four turned off, and the solid-fuel rockets took over the job of accelerating them towards the target.

There is no friction in space that would slow them down, and they already carried combined speed from the transporters and their own Gravity-drives. Any additional acceleration was the icing on the cake. Max’s theory was that if the demon ship only looked for Gravity-drives, there would be a good chance to slip through.

Michael, Tyron, Pete, and Al watched breathlessly as the distance between them and the demon ship diminished, until four Hammers reached their target and hit it simultaneously. It was a tremendous transfer of kinetic potential from one object to another, yet what Michael expected to happen… didn’t. There were no explosions, or obliteration of the demon vessel, instead, its speed decreased considerably as it lost its momentum. And it was now flying on a completely different trajectory, deflected from its original course, and spinning uncontrollably.

“How in the Hell is that thing still in one piece?” Michael asked in the ensuing silence.

“I detected a strong energy shield in the last millisecond,” Max replied. “It, combined with their armor, managed to absorb the Hammers strikes. Although, not completely, but what that did to the ship’s crew… I have no idea. No human being could survive so many g-forces.”

“What now boss?” Al asked.

Michael pointed at the enemy ship. “We can’t simply leave it where it is; if they are alive, it is still a viable threat. We have no more Hammers to hit it with so we have only one option—to board it.” Michael answered and looked at the others. “If they are alive, remember that we need prisoners, so load the tranquilizers.”

As they were preparing their equipment, Al asked. “Did anyone remember to bring some holy water… just in case?”

They all stopped what they were doing, and looked at Al for a moment before bursting out in laughter. It was quite a surreal situation since they were getting prepared to board a spaceship that was, by some religious beliefs, operated by denizens of hell.

“No, Al,” Michael said, trying to regain his composure. “But I did meet the Pope, so consider your weapons blessed by association.”

All their weapons carried two different loads. The first one was made of standard flechette rounds that they were used to using. But the other was filled with special tranquilizers Max had prepared by using DNA from the ancient demon skeletons as a starting point. He created a few compounds that should theoretically work on the demon’s physiology. Nobody was sure if and how effective they would be as they didn’t have a living subject to test them on. Still, it was better than nothing. That is why the second load would be used to pacify the enemy if the tranquilizers did not work — pacify them for good.

It took twenty more minutes for the Excalibur to approach the erratically moving demon ship. Matching velocity and spin of two vessels in space was hard enough under ordinary circumstances, but doing that while one craft was spinning in an uncontrolled manner is almost impossible. At least, it would be for a human. When an AI was added into that equation, things became more manageable. Nonetheless, manageable is a long way from being easy, and it took Max quite some time to do it. Seeing all the stars spin in various directions was doing a number on Michael’s stomach until he set his helmet to project only the graphical representation of the ships and blur out the background.

Up close, he was able to see the damage Hammers had done to the demon ship. Much less than he hoped for, but still quite noticeable. It seemed as if the hull was hit by four giant cannonballs that left deep hemispherical indentations and warped the entire ship somewhat. It was a glaring example of how advanced demon technology was compared to what the S.U. currently used. If the Excalibur was hit with such force, there wouldn’t be enough left over to indicate it was once a ship. This craft took an unimaginable pounding and still stayed in one piece.

“Are you ready?” Michael asked as they all exited the Excalibur, and stood holding on to its hull.

“As ready as will ever be… to face the demons that is,” Tyron answered while Pete used that time to cross himself again.

The transition from one craft to the other was relatively easy; they simply jumped and clamped their magnetic boots to its surface. Max assured them if one of them missed the target, he would easily pick him up, and make a video to show everybody on the Ascension. Tyron had the hardest task because he was carrying a breaching device on his back. It was a circle that would adhere to the outer skin of the enemy ship, and use construction nanites to make a hole. They weren’t going to enter through the airlock, even if they could identify one. The Can-opener, as Al named it, was something Max put together before they left. The probabilities he assigned to this particular situation were in the high 40s, and he justified it by quoting Franz Kafka who said that it’s “Better to have, and not need, than to need, and not have.”

It took about ten minutes for the nanites to eat through the red hull, and then with an explosion, a circular piece of the ship’s skin was blown into space, followed by a long jet of condensing atmosphere. There was no way for them to contain it beneath the hole, and they hoped the demons were in some other compartment from the one they were breaking into. Besides, it seemed logical that the enemy would be in some kinds of spacesuits, considering that they were going into a battle.

The outgassing did not last long, so as soon as all gases escaped, Michael looked at his team and said, “Let’s rock ‘n’ roll,” then jumped through the hole.

After a quick fall, he landed on his feet, absorbing considerable impact as the artificial gravity on the ship was still on. His weapon was pointed in front of him, scanning for a potential enemy. A moment later, by the vibration of the floor, he sensed Tyron landing behind him, covering the other direction. Pete and Al did the same, and they all stood there in silence, with their weapons ready to fire.

The inside was far darker than they were used to, with red lights illuminating wide corridors. The quality of light reminded Michael of the photographer’s darkroom.

Entering hostile environments was an old game to them, with practiced moves, each one observed his designated sector for any sightings of the enemy.

“It looks like nobody’s home,” Al sent over the comms.

“Let’s move toward the front; that is the most logical location where the ship’s bridge should be,” Michael said.

Moving slowly, with Pete guarding their backs, they passed through several rooms, checking each one for any signs of life. There were no separation hatches to ensure the pressure integrity if the hull was breached, and the entrance they made seemed to have depressurized the entire ship. It was all empty, just plain rectangular spaces with nothing within them. Two rooms had some sort of pallets on the ground, similar to Japanese tatamis, but no personal artifacts to confirm they were occupied.

“This is all seriously creepy, no stuff, clothes or knick-knacks… it’s as if robots are living here,” said Pete, after they cleared another room.

“Maybe they are minimalists or use these rooms for some other purpose. Let’s move ahead,” Michael replied.

A few minutes later, they entered what could only be the ship’s kitchen. There was a big mess inside with strange pots and pans lying on the floor, either broken or seriously banged up. The appliances were at least something they could vaguely identify; a big hotplate and what can only be an oversized oven. Then, Al opened a metal insulated door and stepped back.

“Holy mother of God—” he whispered.

Michael approached and looked inside; a part of him wished he didn’t. It was the ship’s freezer, and it was filled with horrors. There were body parts in neatly arranged rows, and by the look and golden color of the arms, he recognized they belonged to the angel race. There was no mistaking those delicate and elongated fingers. Other parts were a mystery to him, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out. In theory, he understood that if an alien opened a human fridge and saw a few animal parts stored there, he would be similarly grossed out. Even so, these were body parts of sapient beings, not slices of ham, or German sausages. Moreover, his mind could never forget the video of that demon gnawing on the angel child’s arm, during the attack on Gaina.

“Let’s go, we need to find the bridge,” Michael said, and pulled shocked Al along.

From there, the team continued down the red corridor until they arrived at the end of it. The corridor terminated with a half-open door that let in an additional beam of light. Michael signaled for the others to be prepared and then carefully peeked inside.

It was the bridge all right, with view screens on one end that were mostly broken, and a few strange consoles; their screens scrolling with unrecognizable symbols. A few wires were hanging from the ceiling, some of them still sparking; it seemed this area took the brunt of the damage. What instantly drew his attention were three visible demon bodies inside, although they seemed a little worse for wear.

One was on the floor, a few feet away from the door. His neck obviously broken; unless demons shared some ancestry with owls. On top of that, most of his skull was caved in, which indicated he was beyond any help. Another body was lying on the opposite side of the bridge, with his limbs so unnaturally bent and pointing in various directions, he could easily get the job in any circus as a contortionist. Granted, a big piece of a broken console, sticking out of his back, didn’t do him any favors. His all-black eyes were disturbingly looking in Michael’s direction… unblinking.

The third body was still sitting in the chair, with a few safety straps firmly securing it. The demon was motionless, and Michael assumed that this one had died from the decompression when they breached the hull, even if he somehow managed to survive their Hammers.

“I’m going in,” Michael said and turned to the side so he could squeeze through the noticeably crooked and jammed doors. He took a few steps, looking left and right, still on the lookout, just in case some demon managed to get into their version of a spacesuit. He quickly observed that there were no other entrances to the bridge, so he relaxed. The body in the chair intrigued him so he slowly approached it; cautiously, as one would a supposedly dead snake. He was a few feet away from the body when the alien suddenly opened his eyes.

“Crap.” He involuntarily said.

In the split-second, Michael was able to see that the demon was wearing a transparent oxygen mask over his mouth and that he was one big monster. Which was confirmed a moment later, when the same monster jumped on him. He instinctively squeezed the trigger of his weapon, but the demon was too fast and managed to knock it out of his hand with one swipe of the clawed hand.

In the next instant, he had at least five hundred pounds of fury in his face, and he barely had the time to grab the wrists of those clawed hands, before they ripped him to shreds. The momentum of the demon carried them to the floor, with Michael acting as a cushion. He felt his reinforced ribs crack with strain, accompanied by a very disturbing sound. The pain was excruciating and he saw the points of light before his eyes, yet, to give into it and release the hands he was holding would be fatal. Michael was only glad that his helmet and the oxygen mask on the demon’s face prevented it from using those razor-sharp teeth. With all the strength he could muster, he headbutted his attacker… with no effect whatsoever. On the other hand, Tyron’s charge did; it carried the demon off Michael and he was finally able to take a painful breath.

That overwhelming pain suddenly stopped, and he felt an almost euphoric relief.

“I am blocking your pain receptors, be careful, you have two broken ribs,” Max said to him.

Standing up was far more difficult than usual, and he could see Al and Pete aiming their guns at their enemy, who was occupied by Tyron.

“Non-lethal shots only, we need a prisoner,” Michael managed to croak.

They both switched their selectors and fired a few tranquilizer darts, careful not to hit Tyron. Despite their perfect aim and the fact that those shots hit the mark, it did not seem to have any effect. Meanwhile, Tyron was fighting the alien, big tears in his battle-suit from the sharp demon’s claws were a testimony to that struggle. Somehow, he managed to pin it to the ground, sitting on his back and holding him by the horns. The entire battle was like looking at two titans, fighting for primacy. Pete and Al jumped on him too, putting more weight on the struggling demon.

“Yahoo! Ride ‘em cowboy!” Al shouted while lying across the demon’s legs.

“Remind me to slap him later!” Tyron shouted, barely managing to stay on top of the enraged alien.

Michael aimed his weapon and emptied almost the entire clip of tranquilizers at any exposed place he could see on the demon’s skin.

“The tranqs are not working!” he shouted, “hold him in place!”

It was easier said than done, since Tyron, Pete, and Al had a really hard time keeping the big demon subdued. Pound for pound, with Max’s upgrades, they were the strongest humans on Earth, and the beast was almost a match for the three of them. What it could do to any ordinary person was something Michael did not even want to contemplate.

He took out a roll of the special duct tape from his kit and started tying the demon’s legs together. This was not ordinary duct tape, but one that Max, with the help of a few scientists, created. Made out of the same fibers that were making their muscles stronger, it had unbelievable high tensile strength, combined with an adhesive similar to the super-glue that needed a special dissolver to remove. In the end, it took three entire rolls of tape to fully immobilize the alien, and it was so insanely strong he could see the tape cracking in a few places before the creature gave up the struggle.

“This thing is a beast,” Tyron said, still breathing heavily. The tears on his battle-suit were self-sealing and the man was perceptibly glad those claws did not reach his skin as Max advised them that being exposed to vacuum was no fun.

“How is it that he isn’t freezing to death, or reacting to vacuum? All he has on is that small mask,” Pete asked.

“I cannot say for certain, without a thorough examination, but it would seem the demon’s very skin acts as a pressure suit. They are an artificial race, after all. At least now we have two corpses and one live prisoner to analyze,” Max responded.

“We need to check the rest of the ship,” Michael wheezed. “If one managed to survive, there could be more live ones on board.”

“We’ll do that,” said Al. “You don’t look so good and Tyron’s battle-suit is barely holding together. Come on, Pete; let us go through this rat-hole.”

Michael and Tyron were left on the ship’s bridge, with the taped demon looking at them with pure hate in his eyes.

“How are the ribs?” Tyron asked him.

“I’ll live… Max said they are fixated; at least I feel no pain.”

“Good, just so you know, the next time you are the one who will have the honor of jumping on one of these things. It kicks harder than a wild bronco,” Tyron said, still sitting on the demon, and giving it occasional kicks when it moved too much.

It took almost ten minutes for Al and Pete to return.

“There is no one else on the ship, these three were apparently the entire crew,” Al reported.

“Okay, let’s take what intel we can, and return to the Excalibur,” Michael replied.

Under Max’s supervision, the main computer was identified under one of the consoles, so they removed it with all its memory banks. They were handled with the utmost care; for them and the future of the human race, they were worth more than all precious metals on Earth.

After stuffing several bags with everything that wasn’t bolted down, they transferred it all to the Excalibur. That included their rebellious prisoner, who highly objected to his relocation. Bringing him was not an easy task, and Al shot him more than twenty additional times with tranquilizers. It was enough to knock out a herd of elephants, yet all it did to their prisoner was to make it a bit docile, but still awake.

Before they left the demon ship, Pete used a piece of magnetic tarp to cover the hole they made on the ship’s hull. The plan was that as soon as they were back home, Max would return with the Excalibur to tow the ship back to the space station, so it could be studied.

The Excalibur stopped its synchronization with the gyrating alien spacecraft and started its trip toward the Ascension. Carrying within an angry alien and four men filled with a sense of achievement.