Voyager Dawn

by Richard Patton

  Finally, Ford continued. “Now I didn’t go make some stupid-ass pledge to protect the innocent or whatever, like they do in the movies. Heroes are idiots. I just decided the rest of the galaxy could kiss my ass. I said I was going to kill every last damn alien I came across until I get my wife and kids back. And seeing as how that’s going to be a while, I guess I got plenty of aliens to kill in the meantime. Naldím, nexacors, ferals. Doesn’t matter. They all die.”

  Ethan held the picture out to him, and he snatched it back, taking a moment to study it. “It’s funny,” he said, “I have to look at this picture to remember what they look like. How stupid is that?” He put the paper back in his pocket and looked Ethan dead in the eye. “Let me tell you something, Walker. When you lose someone – and with the shitstorm that’s coming, you’re going to – do yourself a favor and forget everything about them. It’s easier that way.”

  Ford stood, threw an unlit cigar into the grass, and stalked away, leaving Ethan to ponder his fate. As he did, the ominous shadow of the alien forest overtook him, and Ethan knew what he had to do.

  *

  “We’re taking the ship back.”

  Mason and Briggs looked up at Ethan from their seats around the campfire. “Great,” Briggs said dryly. “How?”

  “I have a plan,” Ethan affirmed. He paused. “Well, most of a plan.”

  “Where did this attitude come from?” Mason asked, shifting to face Ethan, who sat down beside him.

  Ethan hesitated. “Something Ford said.”

  “Look,” Briggs interjected, “this is all well and good, but in case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have kit worth a zack.” He waved a hand around the camp. “We’re on the lam.”

  Ethan glimpsed Frank walking with purpose through the background and smiled. “We have more assets than you might think,” he said.

  “Alright,” Mason said, “what’s your plan?”

  Ethan pulled a multi-tool from his belt and extracted the knife. Leaning over, he started drawing in the dirt. “Rhodes was right about them not expecting an attack. Not the last time, but this time. They think we have nothing.”

  “We have nothing,” Briggs muttered.

  “We have everything we need,” Ethan countered. Sketching out a rectangle vaguely reminiscient of Voyager Dawn’s topography, Ethan drew two arrows approaching it, one from the side and one from behind. “We know they have the ground covered, but I can land us on the flight deck too fast for them to hit us.”

  “Land us in what?” Mason asked. “We left everything behind.”

  “There’s one DRAC back at the old camp,” Ethan said. “It’s fueled and ready to fly.”

  “We can only hold a squad or two in one of those things,” Briggs objected. “We’d need an army.”

  “We’ve got a one-man army. One-woman actually.”

  Mason looked at Ethan. “Rebecca.”

  “Rebecca,” Ethan confirmed.

  “Rebecca?” Briggs asked.

  “She’s a Wraith,” Mason said. He waved Briggs down before he could continue. “Don’t ask. She won’t tell.”

  “She can take the bridge if the rest of the squad can restore power and get the guns back online,” Ethan continued, pretending the interruption had not occurred. “The Two-CMS rounds can hit the Naldím ship in orbit, and if they’re not ready for us – which they shouldn’t be – it should only take a couple hits.”

  “What about all the Naldím around the ship? It’s not like they’re stuck outside.”

  “Our friends will take care of that.”

  “Friends?” Briggs took a moment to comprehend Ethan’s meaning. “Oh.”

  “And once I’ve dropped you guys off on the flight deck I can go down in the DRAC and help clear the area out,” Ethan finished. He looked between the two marines. “Are you in?”

  Mason threw up his hands. “It’s better than sitting around.”

  “It’s a suicide mission,” Briggs countered.

  “We’re going to die either way,” Mason said savagely. “Rather go down swinging.”

  Briggs stared hard at Mason, then at Ethan, before finally caving. “Ah, must be a damn galah. I’m in.”

  Ethan grinned. “Great. Mason, go get Ford and fill him in. I have a feeling he won’t say no.”

  “Never would’ve thought otherwise.”

  “Briggs, tell Rebecca to meet me at Hadings’ tent.”

  “And where are you going?” Briggs asked.

  “There’s one more squadmate we need onboard,” Ethan said.

  Frank greeted Ethan excitedly, waving him over to the workstation he had made for himself out of a rocky outcropping. Laid out on a low-slung shelf was a large metal sphere, split along its equator by a line of struts. Written across the top of it in chickenscratch was the acronym E.T.H.A.N.

  “ETHAN mark two,” Frank said proudly, pointing at the device. “It doesn’t have the same propellant or catalyzer as before, but I made good substitutes. At least, I think they’re good. I don’t know. It might not go off at all. I was going to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t find you.”

  “I was … out,” Ethan said, admiring the bomb, “which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  Ethan looked away from the ball to Frank, whose face was lit up with child-like excitement. He had not seen Frank so happy since the original bomb had been under construction, and it made his spirits soar to see that at least one person had found something to be happy about in the midst of chaos.

  “Does it work?” he asked, pointing at the ball.

  “I think so. I mean, the math checks out,” Frank answered, shifting on his heels. “I couldn’t test it because… well, you know.”

  “This is the only one we have,” Ethan finished.

  “Yeah.”

  “We’re going to use it.”

  Frank looked back to Ethan, his jovial visage giving way in part to fear. “Now? Where?”

  “Outside the ship. We’re going to fly in and take Dawn back.”

  “Are you serious?” There was hope in Frank’s voice now. “Do you think we can?”

  “I know we can,” Ethan pressed, “but we need your bomb to clear the way.”

  “Oh, it can clear the way,” Frank said. “It can clear half the forest. Well, not half the forest.”

  “I get it,” Ethan said, cutting him off before he could launch into one of his nervous rants. “Is the bomb ready for use?”

  “Well, not really,” Frank said, curbing his own enthusiasm as well as Ethan’s. “It’ll detonate, but it needs a manual trigger.”

  Ethan’s gut twisted. “Someone has to be near it to set it off?”

  “What? Oh, no. It has a timer, but there’s a pretty tricky sequence to start it, and it’d take a while to teach you.”

  “We don’t have that sort of time,” Ethan said, the knot in his stomach slowly untying. “This attack has to happen now.”

  Frank swallowed. “Then I’ll have to go with you.”

  “Will you?” Ethan was willing to risk his own life – sacrifice it, if necessary – for the safety of the ship, but he had no desire to put Frank in the line of fire. He was not suited for battle, even after everything that had happened.

  But Frank did not care. He was as ready as any of them to do whatever it took. He looked Ethan dead in the eye. “Absolutely. I, for one, am ready to go home.”

  The Advance

  “The Humans remain invisible in that forest. They’ll soon recover their strength.”

  “There is no strength left for them to recover. There is nothing in that forest but rot and starvation. They will make easy prey when we find them.”

  “Easy prey? They were supposed to be easy prey when we first landed here. Before they destroyed the Orbiter and stole one of our own ships! They’ve proven time and again to be more resourceful than you would care to believe. We may emerge victorious from this Hunt, but it will not be without further lo
sses. We have backed a dangerous prey into a corner, and it will fight back.”

  Hadings did not seem at all surprised to see Ethan outside his makeshift command center. “Lieutenant Walker, if I had a bit for every time you were outside either my door or the captain’s, I could have retired five years ago.” He sighed. “What is it this time?”

  Ethan bypassed preamble; the pressure of the mission was weighing on him, and although he could have had a day or two to plan, he knew it needed to be now. “I want to retake the ship,” he said.

  Hadings burst out in a coughing chuckle. “Well, be my guest, Lieutenant. Why don’t you take down that Naldím cruiser while you’re at it?”

  “That’s the idea, sir.”

  In an instant, Hadings returned to his normal state of solemnity. “Simply put, we don’t have the manpower,” he said, “I would do it if I thought we could, but we can’t. Besides, we can’t afford to lose any more men in case the Naldím come looking for us.”

  “It’d just be a small squad,” Ethan argued, “and we have… others that are willing to help.”

  It took a moment for Hadings to comprehend Ethan’s vague reference. “Your Naldím friends. Right. You know there’s no guarantee they’ll actually help.”

  “That’s a bet we’re willing to take. Me and the squad. We’ve all signed on already.”

  Before Hadings could respond, Rebecca appeared behind Ethan. Both men did a double-take. For only the second time since the Naldím arrived, the Wraith was dressed as fit her station, clad from head to toe in menacing black armor, with a vast array of weaponry strapped across her back.

  “Briggs filled me in,” she said, her voice monotonous and dead through her helmet’s filter, “When are we leaving?”

  Ethan looked to Hadings, still awaiting an answer. The captain sighed. “If it’s all right by Lieutenant Walker,” he said, “right now.”

  *

  Six shadows crept through the dense foliage that separated the dwindling human camp from home. Briggs and Ford headed the expedition, hacking their way into the brush with bowie knives and machetes, covered on their flanks by Rebecca and Mason. Ethan kept close to Frank in the middle of the pack, working out a flight route on his HUD that would minimize fuel consumption on the DRAC; one tank was all they had.

  Ethan glanced at Frank, who was tinkering with the bomb that was slung on his waist. He had traded in his tattered white coat for Rebecca’s marine armor, which fit surprisingly well, and for a moment, he looked like a soldier. But Ethan only needed to see his buck-toothed smile and the way the helmet was improperly secured to know he was heading into territory better left untrodden by the likes of him.

  Something clicked in Ethan’s helmet, and Rebecca’s mugshot was plastered onto the upper-right corner of his vision. She had opened a private channel with him.

  “Will he be able to handle himself?” It was obvious who Rebecca meant. Ethan shot another glance at Frank.

  “Yes.”

  “Keep an eye on him. He’s going to become a casualty very quickly otherwise.”

  “I didn’t know you cared.” Ethan didn’t know what made him say that. Perhaps it was the nerves associated with their mission. He instantly regretted it.

  Rebecca was silent for a moment. “I’ve been here too long not to,” she said simply.

  “I’m sorry,” Ethan offered. He paused. “I don’t think I ever apologized for being so angry with you.”

  “It was a normal reaction, given the circumstances.”

  “I don’t like being lied to,” Ethan agreed, “or kept in the dark. But you were, too. Otherwise you’d know why you were here. The Empire took advantage of you. I was just collateral. You have more right to be angry than anyone.”

  “That never occurred to me.”

  It was strange, given the ebb and flow of Ethan’s regard fo rher, particularly on Ethan’s part, that he now felt only sympathy Rebecca. She had been a mystery, a secret, and – at one time – the enemy, but only now did he truly see her as a person. And despite her physical strength, she was one of the most pathetic people he had ever known; a cold, soulless government agent who obeyed orders robotically. Until now. Ethan hoped he had something to do with her transformation.

  “Thank you,” he said, clearing his throat, “for helping us.”

  “I’m tired of losing,” she answered.

  Mason cut in on the override channel, sprinting to the front of the group as he did so. “Waypoint contact, one hundred meters,” he sounded.

  “I’ll clear,” Rebecca said, following him forward. “Watch my six.”

  Ethan unslung his rifle and moved into position behind Briggs and Ford, Frank keeping pace though his sidearm remained on his hip.

  “Weapons locked,” Mason ordered, whispering even though his helmet blocked his voice from the outside world. The stillness of the forest was not to be interrupted. “Don’t want fire unless we need it.”

  The squad settled on the edge of a familiar clearing, looking out over a swathe of grass and dirt where hundreds of tents lay burnt and crumpled. Up ahead, Rebecca darted through the debris, clearing corners and blindspots with fantastic speed. Before Ethan had time to settle into a firing position, she had called the all-clear, and they moved into the camp.

  Sitting there out in the open, near the wreckage of the motorpool, was the first objective in their plan: the last DRAC. It was no worse off than when Rebecca had yanked Ethan out of it, though its door gun was nearly devoid of ammunition. When Ethan climbed into the cockpit, the computer sprang to life as if Rick and Jess had prepped it for him. Something’s going right for a change, Ethan mused.

  The rotors spun up with a whine that crescendoed into a roar, and as soon as the last of the squad had stepped into the bay, the craft shot upward. Clearing the canopy, Ethan immediately tilted the DRAC in the direction of Voyager Dawn, keen on not letting even a second of fuel be wasted. They would be running on fumes soon enough as it was.

  “Once we hit the perimeter I’ll level out and we can drop the payload on the prefabs,” he said, his voice cutting across the thunderous engines into the helmets of his squadmates. “Ford, take the door gun and clear the flight deck as soon as the bomb blows.”

  “We know the plan, Walker,” Ford said irritably. “Just get us to the part where we kill things.”

  Ethan lapsed into silence, nerves overpowering his will to retort. Gripping the yoke tighter, he urged the DRAC to move faster, until the welcoming silouhette of Voyager Dawn took shape in front of him.

  “Shit,” he breathed.

  “Shit? What’s shit?” Mason climbed into the cockpit. When he saw what Ethan saw, his reaction was similarly colorful.

  “What’s going on up there?” Briggs demanded.

  “Got something hooked up to the ship,” Mason replied.

  “There’s a massive heat signature on it,” Ethan supplemented. “A lot of energy is going through that thing.”

  “But what is it?” Ford pressed.

  “A cable,” Mason said. “A big-ass cable, and it goes right up to the Naldím ship.”

  “It’s a datastream,” Rebecca said suddenly.

  The others looked at her incredulously. “How the hell do you know?” Briggs asked.

  “We’re close enough to the ship that my suit’s connected to the mainframe,” Rebecca said, “and they’re streaming data from it through that cable. They’re getting into everything. The Ultranet, the federal database… everything we have onboard.”

  “We have to take it out,” Mason said.

  “Well, no shit,” Ford shot back, “but how?”

  “I’ve got…” Frank started.

  “Still munitions in the barracks,” Mason suggested.“It’d put us off-schedule, but we could make it.”

  “It’s in completely the wrong direction,” Rebecca argued. “Our timetable won’t hold up.”

  “Why don’t we…” Frank tried again.

  “Why don’t we just shoot down the s
hip, and let it knock the cable out for us?”

  “Because it’s acting as a guyline. If we take the ship out now, it’ll land too close to Dawn.”

  “Not if we blow it to kingdom come first.”

  “Hey!” Frank shouted, instantly cowed by his own outburst. He held up the bomb. “Why don’t we use this?” he asked quietly. The marines looked at each other.

  “That’ll work,” Mason conceded.

  “Do we have a plan then?” Ethan asked, twisting around in his seat to look back into the bay.

  “Good here,” Mason called back. He turned to Frank. “Get that thing ready.”

  “Yeah, and make it fast,” Ethan said, facing frontward again, “We’re almost over the dropzone.”

  The Gambit

  “A Human craft just breached the perimeter. I have the Warriors on standby.”

  “A scout?”

  “Likely. It is a smaller vehicle, only large enough to hold a few soldiers. They are on a rather purposeful heading, however.”

  “Shoot it down. I may not appreciate your sentiments, but you are right on one account: I will take no chances with these pests anymore.”

  “Will the ferals be able to cut through the ground forces without the bomb?” Ethan wasn’t sure who asked; his mind was far too preoccupied with the impending contact to care. It took him a moment to respond.

  “They just have to hold them off until we get where we need to be.” His answer was met with silence, but it didn’t matter. Most likely the others were just as nervous as he was. “LZ in twenty seconds,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. He pulled back on the throttle and the DRAC reared, brought into a hover just beside the deck elevator.

  “No hostiles on deck,” Briggs reported, “LZ secure.”

  With that prompting, the DRAC settled onto the tarmac and the squad spilled out. Ethan watched the soldiers through the canopy. Mason was patting Frank on the shoulder, his instructions relaying through the radio feed to Ethan.

  “We’ll be going in the only entrance and exit, so you’re clear to head over to the cable and plant the bomb. Set it, drop it, and run like hell.”