by Dan Davis
“However,” Lieutenant Tseng said, raising a finger, “we are ultimately relying on Admiral Howe’s Stalwart Sentinel defeating the alien ship, in orbit. And, as many of you know, we have information about the enemy’s attack on the Victory that might just save the Sentinel from the same fate. And you also know, without our satellites and due to the continuing wheelhunter interference, we are unable to send a signal. And that is why we must deliver a person. A person who can hand over the data to Admiral Howe. Is Lieutenant Xenakis here?”
Kat was only half listening but woke to the mention of her own name. She opened her mouth to respond but someone elsewhere spoke instead.
“She’s out fixing up the shuttle.”
Zuma sighed. “That woman was ordered to attend,” she said to Tseng, clearly audible to everyone in the hall.
“I’m bloody well here, ain’t I?” Kat shouted.
You old bitch.
She managed to bite off the end of her sentence before she spoke it. No need to go full throttle with such little provocation.
Her spoken words got a pretty good laugh, at least. Over everyone’s head, she saw Rama Seti chuckling and casting an evil glance at the Director.
“Ah, good,” Zuma said, with a magnanimous tone and a shit-eating grin. “What is the state of the shuttle? Are you ready to lift off?”
“Lift off?” Kat said. The people in front of her shuffled aside to make a space. All faces turned toward her. “The shuttle is fully operational. Batteries enough to get us through the atmosphere, fuel to get us to orbital velocity and fast enough to intercept the Sentinel. In theory. I will leave immediately after I finish here.”
“What about passengers?” A voice called out. A familiar voice. “Evacuees?”
“Is that you, Dr. Ahmar?” Kat shouted, chuckling. “Surely, the Head of Planetary Science would rather stay on the surface of an actual planet? Are you trying to sneak back on to my shuttle when the last time you were on it, you attempted to hijack it and murder me? Sir, you will never board any shuttle of mine.”
Zuma shouted the noise down. “Alright, alright. How many people can you carry out, Lieutenant?”
“It’s not about how many, it’s how much. I can get into orbit fully laden but we just don’t know how much delta-V we’ll need to rendezvous with the Sentinel. I suppose I can take two tons or so. Say, twenty people, with some light personal equipment?”
The giant, Rama Seti spoke. His voice rumbled through the room. “May I make a proposal?” The eyes turned to him. “The Lieutenant’s journey is one of necessity. One of vital strategic importance. Right? The secret needed to defeat the wheeler ship. What if we also had the secret to defeat the wheeler civilization?”
Silence.
“What are you talking about?” Zuma said. “If you have something of that value, simply share it now and—”
“The wheelhunter prisoner,” Seti said. “The one in the biology lab. It should go on the shuttle, to the Sentinel.”
His suggestion did not go down especially well with most people in the hall. Kat had to hand it to the man. Seti had a distinct lack of social finesse. She could empathize.
“No way that monster gets to leave while we have injured humans who need it more. Who would we be if we favored our enemies over our own people?”
“That thing would take the place of five of us. More, even. How much does it weigh?”
Seti stayed silent while they argued.
“Thank you for your comments,” Zuma said, shouting them down. “I’m sure we can all agree, then, that the lives of our own people are worth more than the imagined value of this prisoner. I believe we have eight wounded who require evacuation. That leaves a few other spaces. We will not draw lots. I will choose those who can no longer assist this outpost while it is so threatened with attack.”
“If I may!” the ancient Dr. Fo hobbled up to the front. His scrawny neck poking out of his EVA suit like a tortoise peeking out of its shell. “If I may, Director Zuma. Far be it for me to attempt to dictate policy—” A number of people in the hall laughed at this. “—but I must say, madam, that I strongly disagree with your conclusions. I have been reviewing Dr. Rothbard’s data and examining Red.”
“Red? What is that?” Zuma looked shocked. “Did you name the alien?”
“There is a rather long serial number assigned to the specimen,” Dr. Fo chuckled, shaking his head. “No idea why. Yes, I have been referring to it as Red, due to the reddish-brown hue of its skin color. It is a highly unusual individual. Drastically different to the others we have found. It has unusual physical properties that may reveal the alien strategy with respect to the entire war. I’m afraid we must send the animal, alive, to the Sentinel. As Rama Seti says, this is of prime importance. It may help our species defeat theirs.” The audience was silent.
“And I suppose,” Zuma said, smirking, “you need to go with it. So that you can explain this importance to the scientists in the fleet?”
Dr. Fo scowled. “I have no wish for a place on the shuttle. I have full confidence in the skills of our Marines and those of us who will bear arms. We will defeat the enemy. And if I personally fall in the assault, I care nothing of that. I am immensely old. But I will only die happy if I know that the red alien is on its way to the Sentinel.”
Lieutenant Tseng stepped forward. “It’s not safe. Our priority must be the data. If that creature gets loose or in some way interferes with the shuttle, it would defeat the primary purpose for the flight.”
“True,” Dr. Fo said. “So, send Rama Seti to protect the shuttle.”
The crowd complained that Seti weighed as much as four normal humans so he was taking up even more valuable space that would be denied to the injured and others who might escape.
Through it all, Rama Seti stayed silent. Watching. Kat saw him exchange glances with the woman giant, Sifa, across the room. What passed between them, she couldn’t say. Maybe a look of farewell between two people who had died once already.
While they were arguing, the alarms sounded. In just a few seconds, the word spread through the frightened crowds.
“We’re under attack. The wheelers are here.”
***
“To your posts,” Lieutenant Tseng shouted, his voice barely audible over the shouting.
Rama Seti’s thunderous voice repeated the order. “To your posts. Now.” So loud it hurt her ears. Kat pushed her way through the people, their faces and voices expressing their shock at the sudden assault.
Where anyone got their information, she had no idea but as she squeezed through them she heard two pieces of information that chilled her.
The first. “They have air support. They have Whipsaw drones in the air.”
And the other. “They’re under the ground. They’re coming up from under the ground, right behind our defenses.”
Was it true? Was it just panic?
All she wanted to do was to reach her shuttle and take off before it was too late but she needed to confirm her orders with Director Zuma and Lieutenant Tseng.
There was someone coming for her. A giant, shoving people aside with ease and making a route for her to the front.
“Lieutenant Seti,” Kat shouted as she reached him. “Where are they?”
Ram looked down at her, smiling as if they were not being overrun. “Call me Ram, Lieutenant.”
“Sorry, and I’m Kat. Where are they?”
“Slipped out that way,” he pointed at the corner door. “I think you need to get to your shuttle and get out of here. I’ll try to bring the wheeler prisoner. Sifa is going to get some of the injured to you, I’ll bring some more if there’s time. But you go as soon as you can. Don’t wait for us. It’s too important that you complete your mission.”
Kat nodded. “Agreed. Alright. Be quick.”
“Same to you,” he said. “I’m going to find my weapons first.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Ah, hold on, he’s here. I have someone to help
you. Sergeant Stirling?”
Stepping forward, the huge Marines Sergeant was armed to the teeth. “Sir?”
“You must see that the Lieutenant here gets to her shuttle. It’s more important than anything else. You understand?”
“I’ll get her there, sir.”
Ram turned and strode away, ducking through the door that lead to the interior of the outpost.
“Sir?” the Sergeant said to her. “Would you like to follow me to your shuttle?”
“Er,” Kat said, as the sound of explosions rocked the walls and ceiling above. “Yes, please.”
***
All she needed was to put on her helmet and she was ready to follow Sergeant Stirling out into the chaos of the attack.
The usual wheeler interference had suppressed their communications and many of their technological systems. Kat prayed to Fate that her shuttle would be shielded enough. That Sheila would be alright, safe nestled within the electronic guts of the cockpit.
Of all the people chasing about one way or the other in response to whatever the hell was going on, it was only the sergeant and herself who waited inside the southern airlock while it cycled. The airlocks might soon become entirely redundant if the outpost was repeatedly breached again. Impacts and dull explosions rocked the structure around them. The sergeant’s face was impassive inside his helmet, seemingly unconcerned by the fact that the building could come down around them at any moment. Unconcerned but not oblivious. Not unready. He held his battle rifle as if prepared to snap it up and start firing at any moment. Kat knew nothing about ground combat but she knew professional competence when she saw it.
“What do we do when it opens, Sergeant Stirling?” Kat asked.
“If there’s wheelers between us and your shuttle,” he said. “I’ll probably have to kill them. All that matters is you get through to your shuttle. Can you run in your flight suit, sir?”
“I can.” She fished in her drug pouch and took out her final doses of epinephrine. “I’ll use these if I have to.”
He looked confused. “Yes, sir.”
The outer door alarm sounded and the Marine stepped in front of her, raising his weapon. “Stay low, sir.”
“Sure thing.”
It hissed open, revealing the black landscape beyond, all churned up with defensive trenches and banks, sandbagged positions and a pair of automated turrets, both firing bursts at an unseen enemy.
Beyond it all, perfectly framed, was her shuttle. Facing down the airstrip, just waiting for her to climb in and fly into that beautifully clear turquoise sky.
“Stay here,” the sergeant said and stepped out, covering the left and right, and then turning to sweep the roof above them with his weapon. “Come on, sir and stay close behind me. Within arm’s reach of my ass but don’t hold on to me. Stay low.”
“Right behind you,” she said, fighting a mad urge to pinch his ass. Anyway, he wouldn’t have felt anything in his armor.
Kat followed him out, bending at her waist while they advanced into the trench system. It was narrow and just a meter deep. The thinking was that humans could use them but they would be too small for the wheelers. She glanced out but could see very little. Above her, Sergeant Stirling stood tall, weapon facing the hills. The same direction that the pair of turrets fired. All she could see of them now was the long muzzle flashes.
Behind her, the outpost resounded to the bangs of concussive blasts and the vibration of machinery. Battle rifles and autoturrets fired and the strange crackling fizz of the alien weapons filled the air.
“Sir,” the Marine said, slowing to a stop. “We’re going to wait here for a moment.” He crouched and she hunkered down behind his bulk.
Kat was about to ask what the problem was when the nearby turrets stopped firing bursts over her head at the hills. They started again a couple of seconds later. Firing on full auto. Firing toward her shuttle.
“What the fuck are they doing?” she shouted. “They’ll kill my shuttle.”
“Enemy infantry units moving in from the south,” Stirling said without turning around. “Turrets killed or injured two in that first burst. There are four to six units pinned down between us and our objective. The turrets are not hitting your shuttle.”
“But what about, you know, ricochets or whatever?”
“Yes, sir. We’re at the edge of the trench system here. They only have a slight depression providing their cover so I’ll advance under the cover of the turrets and kill the enemy. Give me a minute head start then have a look. I may not be able to come back for you so you’ll have to make your own way in. Keep low, keep moving. Good luck, sir.”
He climbed out of the trench with an unexpected gracefulness and was gone, up into the hail of slugs and plasma fire.
Kat’s ERANS, humming away at a low level, crept up into a higher state. She felt like an idiot for leaving her PDA on the shuttle. The lack of her fully automatic weapon might mean the end of her life. And the end of her life might mean the information never getting to the Sentinel. At least she had left the Victory’s combat data block in the shuttle and had left Sheila with orders to make for the fleet without Kat, if it came to it. The shuttle’s AI would not do so unless it was clear that all the humans in the outpost had been killed and the Lepus itself was at risk of critical damage.
Setting up those criteria had been just good practice when she had done it. Covering the bases. The horror of the looming fact of the fulfilment of those criteria crept up her spine, sending her ERANS up a notch.
Had it been a minute since the sergeant had gone?
She peeked over the lip of the bank at the edge of the trench. The top of her head itched while she waited for a slug to smash through her helmet into her brain. wheelers swarmed up ahead, rolling toward her, shooting their weapons at the outpost while rounds came back at them. Something was there, right on top of her. Coming right at her.
Stirling jumped down into the trench, flowing in slow motion and falling at her feet onto his back, weapon pointed up and his face contorted in an animal snarl.
Without seeing or hearing it, she knew it was coming. Kat ducked just as the wheeler pursuing the sergeant rolled into view above and Stirling opened up on it. The rounds blowing its center mass to pieces. The shower of blood rained down on them but the dying wheeler tumbled over them into a twitching heap in the trench behind.
“Too many,” Stirling said as he got to his knees. “They’re being reinforced from that flank.”
Oh shit. I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m just a pilot.
“I have to go anyway,” Kat said. Speaking with the ERANS running so hot was like dragging her voice behind her on a chain. “I will make a run for it.”
Sergeant Stirling nodded but looked miserable. “I’ll cover you as best I can,” he said. “But you’ll have to run faster than a bullet.”
She laughed, bitterly and readied herself. At least the ERANS would give her a better chance than a normal person would have.
Her ERANS could give her more, if she had any to give.
“Wait,” she said, tearing open her med pouch. There was a way to give herself more of a chance. If she could keep herself sane, stay focused. If her heart could keep up. Kat clicked three of her four remaining epinephrine doses into her suit feed.
“Don’t, sir,” Stirling said, shocked. “That’s an OD. Your heart—”
“Let’s go,” Kat said, clenching her teeth and spraying spit on the inside of her helmet while she spoke. The adrenaline surged through her system and the ERANS stepped up and up and up. When she reached the maximum effects that she had ever felt, the pressure continued to build and the speed of everything around her slowed further.
She watched her suited hands where they crunched into the pulverized rock gravel at the edge of the trench, saw individual grains skittering over the backs of her gloves, bouncing in miniature avalanches between her splayed fingers.
Her vision juddered in a strong nystagmus as the adrenaline sent the mus
cles around her eyes into tremors and the world shook side to side.
Chains of bullets streamed by her on either side. She stayed low as she came out of the shelter of the defenses and picked her route ahead. There were eleven wheelhunters up and moving ahead of her, plus about five more dead or dying on the ground. The aliens moved in fire teams, small groups and her path through them to her shuttle was clear.
She powered through, pumping her arms and legs as her soles fought for grip on the loose ground. All the whispered legends from UNOP flight school came back to her, the stories of the pilots who overdosed on their stims and elevated their ERANS so high that they overstretched their muscles, tendons or bones. Those fanciful tales felt suddenly real as she sprinted closer to the aliens.
Her arms whipped back and forth so hard she thought she might pop a shoulder out of its socket. Her feet hit the ground so hard it was as though she could feel the bone in her heel cutting through the flesh and skin of her sole. Would she run so hard she would shatter her shins or even a femur? More likely, her heart would weaken, rupture and fail before she got that far. She clenched her jaw so hard she feared her teeth would crack. Her blood thudded in her ears and her breathing was hard and fast, frigid air burning her throat as the suit respirators struggled to keep up with her metabolism. It seemed like there was smoke everywhere. Was there a fire or was it just accumulated debris from all the weapon impacts?
The wheelers closed on her. Moved to cut her off while they kept firing and Kat ducked and dodged, leaping over a low wall of sandbags as if on winged feet and hanging in the air. Changing direction abruptly as she landed, the ground in front erupted in a cloud of black shards. Those razor-sharp pieces cascaded over her and Kat prayed they would not lacerate her flight suit.
A wheeler appeared as if from nowhere, right in front of her and reaching a giant claw at her face. The wicked claws big and terrible enough to crush her helmet and tear her to shreds. She checked her run and ducked under the alien’s savage blow but watched in horror as it brought a plasma pistol to bear on her. It was so close that it could not miss and she did not have anywhere to hide. All she could do was throw herself to the side and hope.
