Invasion

“If what we were told about the ship is accurate, then yes, they can simply outrun the attacking craft and make it to high orbit or even further away,” Pearson said. “If they do that, we’ve lost.”

It first appeared as a twinkling star, hanging over the Earth, and then rapidly swelled into a shining Matchbox toy, a city hanging in space. Brent had seen the images from the space-based telescopes when the starship was heading towards Earth, and then the much more detailed images taken from the ground when the aliens had opened fire and brought so much death and destruction to the world, but none of them had truly captured its immensity. There had been nothing in human experience to compare it to, no words that could capture it and bind it to a common reality, a shared understanding of what it was. It was beyond imagination, beyond perception; he could barely make out tiny fractions of the immense whole…

It was conical, floating in orbit, and yet it wasn't smooth. Like the rest of the alien technology, it had an almost crude appearance, despite the advanced science that had gone into building it. Spacecraft of all kinds fussed around it, while others hung on the hull like barnacles to a watery spacecraft, clinging on for dear life. He could see the shape of a parasite ship, clear even at their distance, and wondered why it hadn’t been launched to take part in the battle. The conical landing craft, the ones that condemned an army to victory or inevitable destruction, could be seen, in perfect position for launch.

Pearson’s eyes were shining with tears. “That could have been us,” he whispered. “We could have built something like that.”

Brent said nothing. The Internet had taken on an increasingly anti-NASA tone as the news of the first attacks sank in…and how much could have been avoided, if only NASA had done its job. It had been easy to share that when he’d been down on the planet, but now, looking at the alien ship, he wondered if that had really been the problem. The human race was so limited, so short-sighted; how could it really have prepared for such an invasion. The aliens had sent generation ships to hundreds of stars, knowing that there would be no real return on the investment, while humanity frittered and played with junk science and oil. The future might yet belong to the aliens. They had done something the human race had never matched.

“They’re taking a download from the flight computers,” Luke said, suddenly. A new icon had appeared on the small display. “That’s fairly normal; they just want to know if there are any problems they should be compensating for. Their main computer may take over the approach…”

“Bastards,” Pearson said, suddenly. “I didn’t trust anyone on the ground to try to tell me how to fly and I never met a pilot that did. Can your computers really dock this craft?”

“Yes,” Luke said, slowly. The tension was rising sharply in the cabin. “Unless, of course, they realise what we are. They might decide to direct us back down towards the planet instead.”

The alien craft grew larger. In an instant, it transformed from an object in the distance to a massive wall, covering the entire skyline. Brent had been wondering if they would be brought inside the hanger bay, but it seemed that there wasn't time for it, not if the battle was going badly. The alien craft was turning slowly, preparing to inject itself into a transfer orbit to leave Earth behind…and come back with a world-wrecking asteroid. He saw other shuttles, just like their own, docking…and then it was their time. The alien ship reached for them and drew them in.

***

The engineering report scrolled across the screen and the High Priest allowed himself a moment of relief. The Takaina had invented rail guns as well, but using them against targets that could move and evade fire was something that they had never required. Even assuming a degree of efficiency beyond anything they’d come up with themselves, the human weapons had to be running short of ammunition by now…and two of their shuttles hadn’t fired a shot in the last ten minutes. That suggested, to the High Priest, that they were either laying low or had shot themselves dry…and he was betting on the latter.