Voyager Dawn

by Richard Patton

  “I’m sorry, sir,” he managed.

  For a third time Rhodes sighed, and gently placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I might be willing to try it if we are on our last legs, but there’s a lot of fight still in us, and I need everyone at their best, including you.”

  “With all due respect, sir,” Rebecca interjected, “there’s not much further we can fall.”

  Rhodes shot a look at her. “You’re still in play,” he pointed out.

  “Not unless you deploy me.”

  “I had a say in your deployment?” Rhodes laughed. “I wish I knew.” In an instant he turned grave. “In any event, you’re heading out in a few hours. We’ve consolidated the weapons cache and I was about to give the order for the marines to suit up, you included.”

  “What’s the plan, sir?” Ethan said eagerly. His own plan shelved, he was excited to be doing something – anything – to get back at the Naldím.

  “You’re grounded, Walker. There isn’t enough fuel to go around. The marines will approach Dawn on foot and hit the Naldím with everything we’ve got.”

  “Changing tactics, sir?” Rebecca said venemously. Ethan agreed that if Rhodes only now saw his strategy was flawed, he deserved some enmity, but the sudden prospect of battle whisked away such feelings in an instant.

  “We used to have a ship to hide behind,” Rhodes explained, “and we dropped our guard. Now they expect us to run like we did before. This is our best shot at hurting them, so, suit up, Winters.” He turned to Ethan. “You’re lieutenant now, so I want you piloting a recon drone over the field. Have it in the air by fourteen hundred hours.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ethan gave him a smart salute, followed shortly after by Rebecca, whose gesture was not so sincere.

  *

  The marines were not thrilled with the suicidal plan that had been put in place, but no one said anything as they cleaned their rifles, stocked their magazines, and strapped on their helmets. Voyager Dawn’s mission may have been in shambles, but its heirarchy was not, and soldiers followed orders.

  Sensing the lack of enthusiasm, Rhodes fired up his pre-mission statement. “Things are looking bad,” he admitted by way of opening, “but we’re not finished yet. We might never take Dawn back. We might never go home. But we’re going to make sure the Naldím wish they never took so much from us. They are going to pay!”

  A cheer rose from the marines, as much to rile themselves up as to confirm his claim, and with it Rhodes motioned for them to follow him into the forest towards home.

  Ethan watched from the cabin of a DRAC as the soldiers filed out, trying not to think about Mason, Briggs, Ford, and Rebecca. Irrationally, he feared that if he thought about them too hard, they wouldn’t come back. And he needed them to come back.

  Oblivious to the cause of the commotion, Frank sidled up next to Ethan, sitting himself down on the step bar. “What’s going on?” he asked innocently.

  “Ground assault,” Ethan answered sullenly. He felt particularly powerless, waiting inside a vehicle that should have been supporting the marines. Resources were scarce, though, and the DRAC would only fly if they were out of options. And Rhodes insisted they weren’t.

  “Really?” Frank said, a hint of excitement in his voice. “Are we going back to the ship?”

  “Maybe,” Ethan said. He sighed and lay down on the cold metal grating that covered the DRAC’s floor.

  “Hey,” Frank said suddenly, twisting to look at Ethan, “I was thinking, if we needed it, maybe I could work some more on the E.T.H.A.N. bomb. You know, just in case.”

  “What sort of work?” Ethan asked, sitting back up.

  “Well, it was just an idea,” Frank said defensively, “I mean, there isn’t much tech here to work with, so I don’t know if I could actually do anything.”

  “What sort of work?” Ethan repeated.

  “I don’t know. I thought I could make it smaller – maybe – and maybe get it to exclusively target organic material. I don’t know.”

  Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Could you do it?”

  “I don’t know,” Frank said again.

  “Frank, it’d be perfect,” Ethan pressed. “Do it! If this attack doesn’t work we’re going to need something bigger.”

  “I thought I’d make it smaller.”

  “Smaller. That’s what I meant. But more of a punch. We could take out the Naldím without damaging Dawn.”

  “You think so?” Frank asked. His tone indicated he was far less worried about the bomb’s tactical abilities, and more about his own.

  “If anyone can do it, it’s you, Frank,” Ethan said, “You’re the most freakishly smart twenty-year-old I know.”

  “Twenty-one, actually,” Frank said, his voice a mixture of pride and sheepishness. “My birthday was last week.”

  Ethan did not know how to respond besides wishing him happy birthday, which he did. Frank scampered off to begin work on the E.T.H.A.N. 2.0.

  Luther Brook appeared behind Ethan moments later, lugging a two-meter drone on a cart up to the DRAC’s edge. “Drone’s ready to fly,” he reported, nudging the thing’s sinister rotors with his boot, “and the DRAC’s already synced to the controls.”

  “Great,” Ethan said passively. Without much thought, he climbed into the cockpit of the DRAC and activated the view screen. The drone’s line of sight filled his vision, and with a twitch of the yoke, Ethan brought the drone into a hover.

  Luther climbed into the copilot’s seat. “Ground team is about two klicks from Dawn at last comm check,” he shouted over the crescendoing whine of the drone, “Orders are to -”

  “I know the orders,” Ethan cut him off. He tilted the drone forward and sent it shooting into the air. As the hulking mass of metal that was Voyager Dawn came into view, other pilots crowded into the DRAC’s cabin to watch, each having a personal stake in the attack. They all had counterpart squads, each as close to them as Ethan was to Omicron. No one wanted to lose any more friends.

  The comm channel buzzed to life a few moments after Ethan began circling the ship.

  “Two hundred meters out,” Rhodes checked in. “Raptor Lead, recon report.”

  “Twenty – check that, thirty tangoes on the south side,” Ethan answered. He could see several of the Naldím watching his drone, but the others seemed peculiarly lax. One of the more wary ones took a shot, but Ethan was far enough out that he had plenty of time to avoid it.

  “Copy, Raptor Lead, closing distance.” The comm went silent again, and Ethan continued to patrol the perimeter, doing everything in his power not to betray the marines’ approach vector. The marines did that themselves.

  The edge of the clearing erupted in muzzle flashes as a solid line of shock troopers burst forward, raining lead into the Naldím encampment. A dozen hostiles fell before their organic shielding took effect and they began to fire back. The firefight last only a few more seconds before the marines managed to push forward, taking cover amid the wrecked prefabs. A squad, unidentifiable in the chaos, lobbed a volley of grenades toward the ship, blasting away a squad of Naldím approaching from inside the ship.

  Ethan jammed forward on the yoke, sending the drone into a nose dive, swooping low over the Naldím line. The few Naldím distracted by his approach were dispatched by the marines, giving the human offense even more ground. The pilots behind Ethan cheered.

  The marines moved forward in fits of chaotic gunfire, slowly advancing on the elevator, and suddenly they were through. The air settled as the marines disappeared inside the ship, and silence once again fell over Voyager Dawn. There was no way to tell how the marines were progressing, though Ethan tried. He strafed back and forth in line with the windows, looking for muzzle flashes or neon green bolts, but there was nothing.

  “Wait, go back!” one of the pilots shouted, “Look over there!” Ethan swerved back across a window just in time to see a torrential rain of energy blasts rocketing down the hallway. Naldím charged down its length, but their movement was checked by
an equally sizeable barrage of grenades.

  The drone bucked and fell backwards as the hallway exploded, showering the air with debris. Ethan could feel the joystick twitch with feedback as the drone was clipped, but it stayed airborne.

  There was another explosion, and a marine was thrown through the hole. She grasped desperately at the twisted metal surrounding the gaping hole, barely finding purchase. With a start, Ethan saw it was Rebecca. She tried to swing back up into the hall, but it was far out of reach, and Ethan doubted even a Wraith could make the required jump.

  He pushed the drone forward, coming within inches of the hull, and Rebecca saw it. She altered her momentum, swinging now toward the drone, and just as she leapt for it, the Naldím opened fire.

  One of the rotors burst into flames, and the drone started to spiral. Ethan hammered at the controls, struggling to keep the machine airborne, but his main concern now was Rebecca. She had already swung herself at the drone and released her grip, but it had dropped away, and there was nothing left for her to grab onto. Training and control gave way to instinct, and Ethan wrenched the yoke hard, gunning the throttle, and shot up to meet Rebecca.

  She curled up, ready to spring, as the drone rushed toward her, and the moment they made contact she jumped, the combined momentum of the drone and her leap catapulting her high into the air. With a surprising amount of grace, she flipped through the window, drew her weapon, and blasted apart the nearest Naldím.

  Ethan drew level with the window to see two more Naldím charging Rebecca. A lack of snapping gunfire told Ethan the marines had moved on, and Rebecca was alone against the hulking beasts.

  A vicious knife appeared in her hands as she clashed with the first, hands moving like lightning to deflect their blows and deliver her own. But the behemoths were every bit a match for the fatigued soldier, and gradually they forced her back. Ethan had to do something.

  He leaned on the controls, the drone lunging forward in response, and rammed it into the neck of the leading Naldím. The machine’s massive weight upset his balance, and Rebecca moved in for the killing blow. Without thinking, Ethan twisted the drone around, catching the second foe around the head with its razor-sharp rotors. They bit into him, and in the second it took him to wrench free of the drone, Rebecca attacked, felling the Naldím with a single practiced strike.

  The drone was flung back through the hole, spinning wildly. Ethan struggled with it again, but this time the damage was too great. It tumbled in a wide arc and slammed into the side of the ship. The screen cut to static.

  The Remnants

  “The Humans are attacking the ship. Their ship.”

  “What progress have they made?”

  “A negligible amount. Their losses are mounting faster than they can advance. One of the two you were interested in is onboard.”

  “Kill them. I’ll save the second for myself.”

  An hour passed in agonizing silence, the thick foliage between the camp and Dawn muffling any sound that might have indicated the marines’ progress. Ethan tried desperately to relax; reading, eating, pacing – nothing helped. His heart raced, and every snapping twig and creature’s cry caused it to skip a beat. As the minutes ticked slowly by, Ethan found himself returning again and again to the DRAC, hoping against hope that the drone’s feed would come back online.

  But there was nothing. The camp was silent until, abruptly, the peace was shattered by the sound of people shouting at the edge of camp. It was not celebratory shouting. It was screams of the wounded and bleeding interlaced with calls for help.

  The inhabitants of the camp converged on the returning marines. With a welcome feeling of euphoria, Ethan spotted Briggs, Ford, Mason, and Rebecca through the crowd in front of him. Mason was limping, his arm wrapped around Ford’s shoulder.

  Hadings appeared behind Ethan, demanding the crowd part while Ethan forcefully pushed his way through.

  “We lost comms an hour ago,” Hadings shouted over the din at Briggs. “What the hell happened?”

  “Got ambushed on the lido,” Briggs replied through gritted teeth. Ethan saw he was sporting a sizeable open wound on his arm. “They’ve got more men than we thought,” he finished.

  “They ain’t men,” Ford growled, pushing past a gaggle of civilians as soon as he delivered Mason to a medic.

  “Where’s Captain Rhodes?” Hadings asked.

  “Splattered across deck five,” Ford answered brutally.

  “They blew a mainline,” Briggs revealed, showing a modicum of decorum and regret over the captain’s death, “Voyager Dawn’s grounded.”

  A hush fell over the crowd as the two stabbing pieces of news settled in. For a long time, nobody spoke. Then nobody had the chance.

  A curt shriek preceded a billowing explosion that ripped up the trees around the mass. The marines whipped around, spraying fire blindly into the foliage, while the civilians swarmed in panic.

  “Pull back! Pull back!” Hadings roared over the gunfire and screams. “Marines to camp, civilians head south!” The soldiers obeyed with more tact than the civilians, whose chaotic stampede only slightly adjusted its course in the desired direction.

  With practiced but exhausted movement, the marines fell into the cover of the camp, their shots slowing as they steadied themselves against the onslaught. The first Naldím appeared from the brush, weapons raging. Bolts clipped through soldiers and structures alike, setting them aflame indiscriminately.

  Ethan ran, the battle to his back, but he had no intention of retreating. He was unarmed, and could do nothing on the front line but die. Instead, he vaulted the low barricade of ammo boxes and fuel tanks surrounding the DRAC and slid into the cabin. Kicking the door gun into place, Ethan crouched low and waited for targets to come into sight.

  The marine line broke, scattering left and right as the Naldím charged through. Ethan called out to no one in particular, but the message was received: “Get down!”

  Marines threw themselves to the ground, instinctively recognizing and obeying the warning. The moment they cleared his line of fire, Ethan squeezed the trigger. His hearing faded to nothing as the machine gun hammered out hundreds of rounds a second. His vision clouded as the muzzle flashes burned a fiery spot in his cornea. His throat constricted as he realized he was shouting a ferocious war cry.

  The gun swept back and forth across the enemy’s ranks, mowing them down savagely. Bullets deflected off the Naldím’s hardened shells threw up clouds of dirt and debris as they were flung into the ground. What might have been minutes, or maybe seconds, or hours, passed without Ethan relenting. The thing that stopped him was Rebecca vaulting the DRAC’s open door and grabbing him by the shoulder.

  “Come on!” she yelled. Reluctantly, Ethan relinquished control of the gun, its red-hot barrel slowly spinning down, and ran.

  Everyone around him was running as well: marines, pilots, civilians that had fallen behind the pack. The menacing hiss of Naldím leg amps faded gradually, and was finally brought to a complete halt as the group passed through a second clearing and the marines turned to finish off any remaining pursuers. A solid minute of firing later, one of the sergeants commanded a ceasefire. A deafening silence fell over them.

  *

  Eight hundred and fifty-three civilians, twenty-one marines, eight pilots, and thirty-two other crewmen reported in during the headcount that followed the rout. Supplies were all but spent. There were a few dozen weapons, as many rations as fit in the marines’ field packs, and no vehicles at all. The most keenly felt deprivation, however, was the loss of Captain Rhodes. With his death, after so many others, hope was nearly extinguished.

  Hadings did his best to pick up the pieces of the shattered colony. He sent the civilians out to forage for edible flora, while marines and medics alike patched the wounded. He ordered a new perimeter set, smaller than ever, and reorganized what fragments of Dawn’s fighting force were left. Having been unceremoniously promoted to captain, Hadings took Briggs as his commander and han
ded out field promotions to the rest of the marines and pilots. Not one solider accepted their promotion with pride or happiness. They were taking the places of people they had lived and worked with – people they would never see again.

  There were no bodies to bury, but a funeral was held nonetheless. It was little more than solemn silence as trees and stones were marked with the names of the dead, carefully concealed from passing glances to ensure the Naldím did not find them. Some words were said. They did not help.

  It was a heartbreaking ordeal to watch, and Ethan’s heart could not take more punishment. He tried to channel Rebecca’s passiveness, to no avail. The rest of the squad dispersed for the next few days. Each had to grieve in their own way.

  Rick and Jess, seemingly invincible and equally strong in morale, made their way around the camp each day, trying to lighten the mood, while Frank would approach Ethan every few minutes to ramble at length regarding some trivial scientific matter. Ethan tried to listen to Frank’s nervous rants – which he took to be the kid’s method of venting – but it was lost on him. He smiled and nodded and stared off at the horizon in a daze, wondering what would become of Frank when his luck failed. He wanted to do something – anything – before that happened, but they were out of options.

  Then, four days after the attack, as Ethan prepared for another night of unrestful sleep, he felt a familiar fuzzy presence wrap around his leg. He looked down to see Waffle’s enormous black eyes staring up at him. The creature had completely vanished from his thoughts as of late, yet there he was, happy as ever to see Ethan, and now Ethan knew what he could do.

  Backed by Rebecca once again, Ethan approached Hadings, this time resolved not to walk away disappointed.

  “What do you want, Walker?” Hadings sighed when he saw the pair coming. He was loading magazines, a marine’s job by Ethan’s measure, but there were few enough soldiers left. Everyone had to contribute.

  “Sir, before the attack, I asked Captain Rhodes-” Ethan faltered as he saw a look of grief flash across Hadings’ face. The acting captain cleared his throat and continued loading bullets.