In old raygun sci-fi movies, ships always jerked or moved in same way when they exited superluminal travel. In reality, they didn't do that, since the method human drives used meant that the ship technically wasn't moving as it blasted across the stars at about 16,000 times the speed of light. Still, Staff Sergeant Darren Hardwell grew up loving those films, and when the USS Bunker Hill, the newest of the United States Strategic Aerospace Command's spacecraft carriers, exited warp, the smoothness was somehow more jarring than the imaginary jolt.
Darren sat on his bunk, gazing out the window as the view shifted from warping, scintillating stars to a blue-skied world of endless prairies and farmland, an even bluer gas giant rising behind it. Supposedly, this planet was one of the more prominent of the border colonies, and was well on its way to being incorporated into the Federal Republic of Germany as a fully-fledged charter world.
So, of course, some upstart bug-people had to raid it. And, of course, they had to take some hostages from the military and civilian populations. And, of course, since Germany's territory contained the only known safe corridors into the strategically-valuable Polegate Nebula and no one wanted to go through CAST for access, the United States and other allies were scrambling to help, if only to stay on the Bundesrepublik's good side. That meant that a Russian interdictor fleet was currently steaming in from Novoarkhangelsk and the 21st Special Operations Command, of which Darren was a part, was to launch from the Bunker Hill to locate and extract the POWs.
That, or everyone would die. Previous encounters with the Poslushi hadn't gone well.
The intercom crackled and the voice of Captain McCullough rang out across the ship. "21st SOCOM please report to the bridge. Repeat, 21st SOCOM please report to the bridge."
Darren stood from his bunk and jogged down the corridors of the kilometer-long ship to the third deck, where the bridge sat nestled within an extra layer of composite armor. Two centuries, two centuries of aircraft and spacecraft carrier building, and the Navy couldn't make their ships not horrifically claustrophobic. Darren had to duck his head every few seconds to avoid taking himself out on a low ceiling or bulkhead, and he wasn't even exceptionally tall. Finally, after a decent ten minutes of trying to remember where everything was, he found himself standing in the bridge alongside a dozen other Army Rangers and Marine Raiders. McCullough was facing away from them, instead locked in close, quiet conversation with the ship's communications officer. She looked up at him with concern on her face and he sighed, turning to face the SOCOM unit.
"Greetings, soldiers. I just got off the horn with the Poslushi regarding our prisoners. I proposed that we release one hundred of their people in exchange for thirty-five of ours, but as you're in here, it didn't go well. Apparently, the Poslushi are just fine with taking our men, but are appalled that we took theirs. Now, I'm going to hand you off to Captain Johann Hess of the German Army. He has firsthand experience of the threat and can tell you what you need to do to stay safe and accomplish your mission. Hess?"
A younger, paler man entered the room, a German flag patch on his arm. He pressed a button on the wall and a projector screen lowered to the ground, giving Darren flashbacks to his military academy days. Hess pulled a laser pointer from his pocket and cleared his throat before speaking in perfect, though slightly accented English.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is a Poslushi." He clicked a button on his pointer and the screen showed a picture of a strange alien creature. It was insectoid, with a shiny copper-colored exoskeleton, two foot-long antennae, and four compound eyes. It only had four limbs and it stood upright, but it was otherwise quite similar to Earth's various species of ants.
"However, this is not the only kind of being that their civilization seems to be composed of." he rapidly clicked through a series of photographs, showing white-haired sheep people, eight-foot birds with taloned hands at the end of each wing, and a plethora of other species. The pictures were shaky and blurry, and each one seemed to be equipped with some sort of long rifle.
"For reasons as of yet unknown, the Poslushi are intent on assaulting CAST's borders. Not only that, but we have reason to believe that, if they should overtake Germany's colonies in the region, they will rapidly move to assault Novoarkhangelsk, Pas-de-Astres, and New Vancouver in short order. Now, during negotiations, they sent us this image of our prisoners. We don't know if it was intended to reassure or threaten us, but here it is."
Another photo flashed onto the screen, one of thirty-five people all lined up in a row, still wearing what they were when they were captured. However, a mask was affixed to each of their faces, and they hung limper than any human should. Each one also had a metal ring affixed around their throats, connected to a thin wire that extended into the ceiling to hold them up.
"Now, we don't know what those masks are doing to those people, but the prospect of German citizens possibly being brainwashed as we speak obviously hasn't gone over well with my government, and thus, here you are. Now, two days ago, the Poslushi attempted to assault Kormoran, but were repelled. This is how they got their hands on our men. Our findings during this encounter reveal a few things." He clicked back to the picture of the Poslushi and pointed the laser at its antennae.
"Poslushi use their antennae to hear and smell, and since their antennae are very long, they are extremely sensitive to loud sounds. Thus, you will not be using silenced weapons during this op. Not only that, but blows to their antennae are very painful. Use this how you will. Now, on to our tactics."
Hess spent the next five minutes or so explaining what exactly they were going to do, but the gist of it was that they were to split into three-man teams and sweep the inside of the Poslushi prison ship for the prisoners, retrieving them and their masks for extraction and study. If possible, they were to not engage physically with the Poslushi so as to not provoke a wider conflict and leave the road open for diplomatic talks.
Hess finished his spiel and stood straight. "Any questions?"
Corporal Pavlov, a newer Ranger who looked like he would make a good football player, raised his hand.
"Yes, sir?"
"How did you repel their first attack?"
Hess smiled. "Well, to be honest, they caught us sleeping. Their species doesn't sleep, apparently, and so when they entered our camps, they didn't expect us to be just sitting around, waiting for them to disturb us. In effect, we accidentally ambushed them." A chuckle went through the ranks at this revelation.
Hess raised his voice. "Anybody else?"
Silence.
"Good. Move out!"
---
With a hiss of hydrogen fuel, the gas line disconnected from the shuttle automatically as its fusion reactor started up. The gray-and-black camo of Darren's spacesuit blended in well with the surroundings, but the armor otherwise looked rather janky. It might've been a hundred times more advanced than the spacesuits they wore on the first lunar missions, but with the exception of being slimmer and a different color, they looked about the same.
Darren sat on a bench in the shuttle and began refilling his rifle's magazines out of a sealed bin on the floor. Corporal Pavlov and Staff Sergeant Edison, his squadmates, joined him in doing so.
"Check, one, two." Captain McCullough said over Darren's suit radio.
"We read you, Cap." he replied. The Captain said his assent and clicked off.
"All systems go. Boys and girls, gals and nonbinary pals, keep all parts inside the vehicle, we will be arriving at our destination in T-minus five minutes." the pilot said over the shuttle's PA system. The shuttle then shot forward, nearly knocking Darren and a few others in the shuttle out of their seats. Pavlov and Edison didn't move, having remembered to fasten their seatbelts. The shuttle rocketed out of the airless hangar bay and then banked left, headed for the horizon of Kormoran and presumably the enemy.
Three minutes into their trip, the Poslushi vessel came into view. It was absolutely massive, three kilometers in length at the least. Like a human ship, it was built in a roughly ovoid or cylinder shape, with three large offshoots from the main hull, carrying what Darren could only assume were cargo containers. On occasion, little packets of some sort of product were grabbed by long, spindly robotic arms and carried to and from the hull.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Four minutes into their trip, the shots began. An explosive burst nearby rocked the shuttle slightly, as shipboard cannons began unloading flak shells and high-energy beams at them. One of the shuttle's wings sparked and heated to a glow briefly as it was hit by some sort of laser. Then, the shuttle's rear door opened and the pilot yelled, "Green light, green light! Go, go, go!"
Darren didn't even think. In an instant, he leapt out of the shuttle, followed by everyone else. The shuttle turned around, jets of monopropellant spinning it with ease, then shot off to repair and refuel at the Bunker Hill. Darren and his comrades were left drifting through the void towards the Poslushi ship, too close to be targeted. Darren controlled his movement with a few puffs of jetpack propellant, then landed and stuck safely to the hull. Pavlov and Edison did so soon after.
Darren carefully maneuvered to a nearby service airlock, moving slowly so as to not fling himself off the ship. "Pavlov, cut this girl open." he commanded. Pavlov nodded, then clicked on a peroxynide blowtorch and sliced through the bulkhead with one smooth move. With that, they entered, and as the artificial gravity kicked in and they gently landed on the floor, Darren took in his surroundings.
From what he could see through the airlock's inner door's window, the ship was rather roomy, obviously designed for a bigger species than humans. Low red lights cast a dim, ominous glow on things. And, of course, there was a pair of Poslushi staring at them.
Crap.
A few seconds later, a rather quiet alarm began to ring.
Crap: Part Two.
"Pavlov, outgas her!" Darren yelled, brandishing his rifle at the pair of aliens. They moved for their sidearms, but it was too late. As Pavlov cut through the inner door, it suddenly blew outward under the force of the air pressure, a powerful gust of wind sucking the hapless Poslushi out of the ship and nearly doing the same to the Rangers.
From there, they proceeded through the ship. The number of exposed pipes and wires, along with plenty of tools strewn about, led Darren to believe that they were in a maintenance area of some sort. "They probably aren't holding their prizes in an area where they can sabotage the ship." Edison noted. The other two agreed with him, and they went to find a way to an upper deck.
Eventually, they found a way up, in the form of a small maintenance shaft leading upward. As Darren climbed it, he noticed a strange din coming from its end. It sounded like a machine shop up there, complete with autolathes, autonomous fabricators, and many of the other mainstays of modern manufacturing. Darren gently pushed up the cover of the shaft and peeked out.
Apparently, the humans weren't the only ones aboard.
Hundreds, if not thousands of creatures of all shapes and sizes stood attending various workstations, each with a different-shaped mask affixed to their face (or equivalent). Chunks of metal were beaten into shape, then used to cover bundles of advanced components in protective casings. Then, the finished products were placed in crates to be ferried away by the arms Darren had seen earlier. The little pill-shaped machines reminded him of something he had seen during Hess' presentation... oh.
It was what was attached to Poslushi rifles. This was an ammunition factory.
Darren ducked down as a Poslushi overseer turned their eyes his way. Then, he clicked on his radio.
"Command, do you read me?"
Captain Hess' voice replied near-instantly. "What is it?"
"This isn't a prison ship. It's a flying labor camp."
Darren could hear Hess' heart drop. "Oh. I see what they wanted with Kormoran now. Go ahead and secure our POWs. Use whatever means necessary to do so."
"What about everyone else?"
"Leave them. We don't have enough room on the shuttles for them all anyway, if this is at or near capacity."
Darren considered disputing the order, but decided against it.
"Well, you heard the guy. Breach and clear?" Edison asked.
Darren smiled a grim smile as he pulled the flashbang off of his belt. "Breach and clear." he responded, pulling the pin and tossing it out of the shaft.
The Rangers' suits had automatic noise dampening. The Poslushi didn't.
A muffled BANG! rang out, followed by the agonized, hissing screams of the Poslushi. Darren, Pavlov, and Edison all rushed out at once, rifles shouldered, finding themselves surrounded by mentally-gone workers and Poslushi in the fetal position. A pair of guards, attracted by the commotion, rushed into the space to see what was the matter.
KPOK-KPOK! Two shots, two kills, as the barrel of Pavlov's rifle smoked and two casings sputtered and hissed on the slightly-damp ground. Darren frantically looked around for any humans, and quickly found them, six men and women in officer's attire. He grabbed one and shook him by the shoulder in an attempt to rouse him from his stupor, but he only shrugged Darren off and returned to his work. Darren tried this with everyone, but it didn't work. Then, he tried prying off their masks, but they were stuck on so tightly that he couldn't for fear of hurting somebody.
Two more shots rang out. "The heat's just about on us, Hardwell!" Pavlov exclaimed. Then, Darren got an idea.
"Hey! You!" He pointed to the row of prisoners, trying to recall his German classes in high school. One of them, apparently the lead, looked up.
"Wha...?" He stammered, obviously not fully there.
"Yeah, you! Guess what? I own you now!"
"Oh... oh-kay..."
"Follow me, unless you want a beating!" Wordlessly, the whole column began to follow Darren, though not particularly quickly. "I'm back! Get out of there, now!" the shuttle pilot yelled over the radio. "Come on!" Darren yelled, stopping briefly to drop three more Poslushi guards before shoving the prisoners towards the maintenance shaft. "Get down there!" he yelled in his most intimidating voice. When the last of them had started their descent, he went down after them, pistol drawn in case a Poslushi thought they could be a hero.
The group rushed back to where they had entered, Darren, Pavlov, and Edison having to literally drag the rest behind them to get them to move faster. Finally, they reached the service airlock and took turns hurling people into the shuttle, which had coupled itself to the broken doors to prevent depressurizing somebody. Then, it was Pavlov's turn, then Darren's. However, as Edison went to board, a Poslushi grabbed him from behind and pulled him back onto the ship, their hand gripping some sort of sword.
Darren didn't remember quite what happened after that. What he did know came in infrequent memories, of seeing Edison's pale, bleeding body, and of Darren's combat knife sinking into the foul creature until the screaming stopped.
When he came to, he was back on the shuttle, trying to resuscitate Edison as the shuttle flew back towards the Bunker Hill, but his efforts were in vain. The prisoners were wandering listlessly about the cabin, occasionally sitting down or banging against the walls like defective game characters. Darren stood up as Edison finally slipped away, trying to distract himself from what he had just seen.
"All units report." Captain McCullough's voice crackled over the radio.
Darren put his hand to his ear. "We've got six, returning to base."
Another voice followed soon after. "Eight prisoners in tow, RTB."
"Nine men in the back, good to return."
"Twelve civilians here, coming home."
"Good, that's all we needed. Any losses?"
"None."
"None, sir."
"Not one."
"Hardwell?" McCullough asked.
"Just one, sir. We're bringing him back with us."
"That's good, we don't want them getting a hold of any more of our corpses after what they did with the System Patrol people. Good work men, now get back to base and get some rest."
---
"So, what you're saying is that the attack on Kormoran was a slave raid?" Commander Mark Oliver, US Chief of Space Operations, asked, his projection on the screen flickering briefly.
"Yes, sir. From what we've seen of the interior of their ship, it's a mobile munitions and supply foundry manned mostly by forced labor." McCullough said.
"And you're also saying that the aliens are using mind control on captured soldiers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Excuse my rudeness, but that's quite the statement, Captain."
"I've got the ship's surgeons busy trying to cut those masks off, Commander. So far, they've only removed one, and she's still not fully lucid."
"But why use all this? Why not just use the slave labor and not bother with expensive electronics?"
"Now, this is only a theory, as a lot of our knowledge regarding the Poslushi is, but I don't think they're intended to stay as slaves."
Commander Oliver paused for a moment. "I hope you know that you're making less and less sense by the second, Captain."
"Yes, I know, but hear me out, sir. The one we've freed... she's on their side now."
Suddenly, the shutters around the bridge's windows closed and the room darkened. Commander Oliver had turned from dismissive to intensely focused in a heartbeat. "Evacuate the bridge, Captain. I want just you and me to talk about this."
McCullough's heart jumped into his throat. "You heard the man." he squeaked, even the guards leaving posthaste.
"Now, you're going to explain to me exactly what that means." Oliver was dead serious, deadly serious. McCullough had heard horror stories about the CIA and Military Intelligence, and what they did to tight-lipped soldiers, enemy or not. He decided it was best to tell all he knew.
"Well, sir, she's been confined to quarters, but she's prowling around her room, talking about how we're holding her prisoner. One of the guards tried to give her food, but she tried to attack him and we subdued her. All the while, she keeps calling people around her below the Poslushi. The exact term she used is untermensch. I don't think I need to tell you why that's problematic."
"Indeed. So, what you're saying is that they're trying to indoctrinate people to their side?"
"Yes, and judging by the results, it's working."
"I see. I'm going to dispatch a cargo runner to the Bunker Hill as soon as possible. When it arrives, I want you to load all the masks you have on your ship onto it."
"But, sir--CAST High Command wants those masks too."
"If the Poslushi can do what MKULTRA couldn't, then the acquirement of those masks for DARPA is a matter of national security. If CAST asks any questions, tell them that the masks self-destructed when they were removed. Arrange for the return of the Bundeswehr personnel and the Kormoran civilians as soon as possible. This is a direct order."
McCullough weighed his conscience and his sense of self-preservation. His fear was heavier.
"Yes, sir."