Battleship

dispatched. Once that has been accomplished, however, the Land Commander will have no more immediate duties. He will have no vessel—the troop transport had returned to the flagship during the night and by now was doubtlessly nothing more than scrap. He will have no warriors at his disposal—they are all dead.

Still, there will be matters to be dealt with.

First and foremost will be pursuing the humans who inflicted this damage that he is attending to. They are racing down the hill on foot. As soon as the signal is broadcast, he will pursue them. He will overtake them. He will destroy them.

Then he will continuously strike from hiding, finding ways to harry and harass the humans, conduct ongoing guerilla warfare to make certain that they—

That is when he hears a sharp, high-pitched whistling that is unfamiliar, and more sounds that are familiar.

He looks up.

He has just enough time to realize three things: a human-launched weapon is about to strike home just before sufficient power has been reached to send the signal; the Regents-launched spheres are not going to stop it in time; humans were really, really not worth this much trouble.

Then the world explodes in white, and his hatchling mates welcome him.

USS MISSOURI

A huge cheer went up from the crew as a great plume of smoke billowed from Saddle Ridge.

“Target down!” Nagata was shouting with joy, proving, somewhat to Hopper’s surprise, that he was indeed capable of displays of emotion.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. I saw the entire tower collapse about two seconds after the missile hit! And the explosion must have taken the shredders with it!”

Hopper stared at his cell phone. Call me, baby. Just… call me. Let me know you’re okay. If you were clear of it, you would have seen it hit, and you’d be calling to tell me you’re okay. If you aren’t…

If you aren’t, then you won’t answer if I call you. You won’t answer and I’ll be listening to that ringing, over and over; and worse, I’ll hear your voice telling me you can’t answer the phone right now, but you’ll call me back as soon as—

The phone rang.

He answered it immediately. “Hello?”

“Did you miss me?” came Sam’s voice.

He paused, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could. “In what sense?”

“In both, I guess.”

“Well, apparently, yes to both.” He paused when he heard people coughing in the background. “You were right there, weren’t you.”

“Well, technically…”

“And you say I’m crazy? Get your ass down that mountain.”

“Roger that. And Hopper… I love you.”

He didn’t answer.

“Hopper?”

He was staring at the horizon, his face going slack. “Gotta go. Love you.” And he hung up.

The war whoops of triumph that had been erupting all over the ship turned to cries of alarm. Two small, familiar objects were moving in toward them from a distance.

“Apparently,” said Nagata, “I was premature in saying the missile had destroyed them. They must have veered off at the last moment.”

“And now they’re coming straight for us.”

“ETA is ten seconds, I believe.”

Slowly Hopper nodded. So instead of being concerned that he was going to have to live without Sam, she was now going to have to live without him. But at least it would be on a world that was safe from alien invaders.

Totally worth it.

He turned and, his back stiff, saluted Nagata. “It’s been an honor serving with you.”

Nagata returned the salute.

The shredders screamed toward the Missouri, and there was absolutely no escape…

And then the nearest one exploded, blown out of the air by a Sidewinder missile.

A sonic boom roared through the air and two F-18s whipped down and around, going in rapid pursuit of the second shredder even as pieces of the first one rained down into the ocean and black smoke wafted lazily skyward.

The second shredder banked away from the Missouri and then hesitated, faced with too many targets. That single hesitation cost it, as one of the F-18s opened fire on it. The shredder might have been able to avoid another Sidewinder, since it was now aware of the F-18’s presence and undistracted. But there was nowhere for it to hide as the plane’s nose-mounted 6-barreled Gatling cannon strafed it, pumping two hundred rounds at it within seconds. The last of the shredders was itself shredded, torn to pieces before the astonished eyes of the Missouri’s crew.

The F-18s did one more large circle of the area. Hopper watched them, and then, in the far, far distance, he saw a hint of other vessels, with a carrier that he was reasonably sure was the Reagan leading them.

“Gentlemen,” he said into the PA, “I think it’s safe to cheer this time.”

Which they did, for a very long time.

HARBOR-HICKAM

Hickam Airforce Base had been established in 1948 near Honolulu and served as a key launching point for operations during World War II. Eventually it had been folded into a combined base with Pearl Harbor, to become known as the Joint Base Pearl Harbor–Hickam. A variety of surface ships and subs were homeported there, including the USS Missouri in her heyday.

Now the officers who had most recently, and most unexpectedly, pressed the Mighty Mo into service against an enemy that no one could have expected—much less expected to defeat—were lined up in their dress whites. Standing at stiff attention in the front row were Alex Hopper and Yugi Nagata. Ord, Raikes, Hiroki and others were lined up behind them, with Beast naturally towering over the lot. Even Calvin Zapata was there, dressed in a crisp, freshly pressed Hawaiian shirt.

The families of those who had survived were seated nearby, including Vera and her kids, Nagata’s wife (Hopper had been briefly introduced to her but couldn’t remember her name) and Sam, who was smiling but in a measured way. It was wise of her to show restraint, because intermingled with them on this day of both celebration and mourning were many families whose loved ones hadn’t survived. They were somber, still looking shell-shocked, many eyes red from crying. Those who had made it through knew they were damned lucky. The families who were bereft of their loved ones kept their attentions focused on Shane, trying not to look at those who hadn’t suffered a loss. Because the inevitable question—Why do we have to suffer and you don’t?—would be reflected in their eyes, and there was no possible answer available.

Shane’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, causing some ear-splitting feedback. As he stepped away while sound technicians rushed to fix the problem, Hopper took a moment to inhale deeply and then let it out. He actually tasted the air as it passed through his lips. It was a typically gorgeous Hawaiian day, the sun bathing them in its