by John Bowers
"All my life!" she said. "Now you get the fuck out of my way! I'm leaving here right now!"
She waited, but he didn't move.
"Right now, Captain! Or I'll have you up on charges!" She heard the crack in her own voice and hated the weakness.
"Who do you think they'll believe?" he growled. "The XO, or some two-bit pussy gunner?"
"Get out of my way, goddammit!" Tears ran down her cheeks. She was on the edge of hysteria. "I'll kill you!"
"Like you killed your drill instructor?" Hinds shook his head. "No. You'll thank me."
His erection seemed to be growing.
Onja kicked savagely at his groin, but he was expecting it and sidestepped. Before she could recover, he was on her, pinning her against the wall, forcing her knees apart. She struggled furiously, but his strength was incredible. He pinned her arms and wrestled her to a standstill, pressing her against the hot boards. Onja screamed, well aware that no one would hear. Hinds held her until she ceased to struggle.
Then he kissed her, forcing his mouth over hers. She could smell him, his heavy cologne mixed with sweat. She wanted to gag. Her chest heaved in terror, but she couldn't move. His male member pressed against her belly like a fence post.
His tongue slid into her mouth…
…and she bit down.
Hard.
Hinds jerked as if electrocuted. His green eyes sprang open in terror, his hands flew wide in surrender. Onja tasted blood.
Hinds trembled in agony, wanting to back away but unable to move. Onja's blue eyes flashed with hatred as she held him for twenty seconds, then deliberately opened her jaws and let him back away. Hinds stumbled against the wall, his face a study in horror. Blood flowed down his chin, streaking his chest. Onja, once more in control, spat blood onto the floorboards.
"You fucker!" she hissed. "You think I'd ever fly with you? You're not even a man. You're nothing but a life support system for your dick!"
She turned and stalked out of the sauna.
Thursday, 9 August, 0221 (PCC) — Lunar Base 9, Luna
Life was a lot more pleasant under recently promoted Major Walters. The crews, now convinced they would get a chance to fight the next time the opportunity was presented, were more relaxed. Walters was good-natured, but firm and efficient.
Barely a week after he assumed command, Walters called Johnny into his office. Johnny stood at ease as Walters pinned him with a narrow gaze.
"Have you spoken to your father lately?" he asked bluntly.
Johnny's eyebrows lifted. "No, sir."
"You sure? No mail or anything?"
"No, sir. I haven't spoken to him since the day I enlisted."
Walters picked up a document and handed it across the desk. Johnny took it and peered at it closely.
"You know the Fighter Service is upgrading its fighters, right? That's the conversion schedule for all the squadrons in the Luna sector," Walters said. "Notice where the 213 is located. Down near the bottom."
Johnny found it and nodded, perplexed.
"We're not scheduled to get the new fighter until after the first of the year."
"That's too bad, sir. Wish we could get them sooner. They're a dream to fly."
Walters nodded, again eyeing him suspiciously.
"That's why I wondered if you'd been talking to your old man," he said. "Because this afternoon I was notified that we've suddenly been bumped to the top of the list."
Johnny stared stupidly. "What?"
"We are now going to be the first squadron to convert over."
Walters leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. "Not only that, but as soon as we get them, we have orders to begin carrier training."
Johnny's mouth fell open.
"We have carriers?"
"We will in a few months."
Johnny put the document down and shook his head slowly.
"That's fantastic!" he said after a moment. "Jesus!"
"Yeah, my sentiments exactly. Okay, Lincoln, I was just curious. Don't repeat any of this, all right?"
"No, sir." Johnny's head was still reeling.
"Dismissed."
Asteroid Base 131, Solar System
She was in a small room, lying on her back, staring at the ceiling as tears flooded her eyes. Her heart seized with dread, despair, and terror. She knew what was coming, what to expect, because it wasn't the first time — it surely wouldn't be the last. She sobbed in anticipation, begging, pleading, but it had no effect. He didn't care; he even seemed to enjoy her terror. She felt his hands, soft and pudgy, where they didn't belong. He was old, disgustingly pink, and jowly, with straight, snow-white hair combed straight back. He loomed over her, his pig-like eyes gleaming with lust, resting his weight on her. He kissed her hard, like a husband with his wife, then his paper-thin lips walked across her face, devouring her for his ego. She trembled hard, wanting nothing but escape, wishing someone would come to save her…but no one ever did. Where were the police? Where was her father?
She felt her thighs being pulled apart, and she sobbed. She knew it was time, and she was right. He was old, but he was hard, and it felt like a knife, stabbing, ripping her open. He moaned, closed his eyes, and she knew she was nothing to him, just something to be used, enjoyed, and discarded.
The pain was bad, but that wasn't the worst — the worst was the pleasure. Because, betrayed by her own body, she enjoyed it. She didn't want to enjoy it, didn't want any part of it, but she had no control over anything. It was terribly confusing, the agony and the ecstasy, and it never seemed to end…
Onja screamed, jerking upright in her rack, clawing at her sheet as the horror in her head overwhelmed her. Her shriek filled the tiny cube in which she slept, vibrating the very air. She sucked air into her lungs and let loose again, a howl of raw anguish, her body throbbing with release, and then a third time, this one bringing the sobs as reality drifted back and she realized at last that, once again, it was only a dream. A horrible nightmare.
Landon scrabbled out of a deep sleep, his nerves scoured by the unexpected violence of Onja's screams. Shaking with adrenaline, he reached for her.
"Noooo!" she shrieked, and her heel caught him full in the eye as she kicked away from him and flattened against the bulkhead, still trembling violently. Landon catapulted against the opposite bulkhead, his legs sprawled in all directions; by the time he pushed himself upright again she'd slumped into a lump of sobbing, quivering flesh — no longer violent, but still wailing in despair.
Landon approached her again, carefully this time, keeping a couple of feet between them as he reached out to touch her gently.
"Onja? For god's sake, Onja, what is it?"
"Don't touch me!" she gasped. "Please! Not yet."
He withdrew his hand, staring at her helplessly, his face lined with the shock of his rude awakening.
Onja's fingers gripped the soggy sheet in desperation, heaving for air, still weeping, crying now from disappointment that the dreams had returned. It had been more than five years since the last one, and she'd thought they were gone for good.
Landon crawled off the rack and went into the bathroom, returning with a cup of water. He offered it to her and waited until she'd recovered enough to take it. When she drank, it was with the manner of a wounded animal, gulping it down and shrinking back. She refused to look at him, instead keeping her eyes closed as she huddled in the corner and trembled. Landon disposed of the cup and crawled closer to her, keeping an arm's length between them.
"Onja? What is it, honey? Shall I call the medics?"
"No," she moaned. "Just give me some time."
He sat there helplessly; he had no experience in this sort of thing.
"Was it a nightmare? Do you remember it?"
She only nodded. She was calmer now, no longer sobbing, but still breathing heavily, still trembling. Landon watched for a few minutes, wishing he could do something, anything.
He went into the other room and returned with a small bot
tle of liquor, a cheap Martian brandy, and held it out to her.
"Here. Swallow some of this."
She opened her eyes and saw the bottle, but made no move to take it. Landon popped the seal and held it while she sucked from the neck and swallowed a mouthful. She choked, coughed, then sank down again, head back, breathing more normally. He put the bottle aside and slid closer to her, touched her hair, stroked her head, then gently, carefully, pulled her against him. She laid her face against his neck and breathed alcohol fumes on him, still shivering.
"Better now?" he asked.
She nodded.
"What was it?"
"Just a dream," she said after a pause. "A nightmare."
"You've had it before?"
She nodded.
"Want to tell me about it?"
"No. Just hold me."
He was happy enough to do that, relieved that she was almost back to normal. He was trembling slightly himself, nerves still raw from being ripped out of a deep sleep, and buried his face in her stiff blonde hair, kissing the top of her head.
"I wish I could help," he said quietly.
"You can't."
"Don't want to talk about it?"
"No."
His left eye began to throb, and he remembered she'd nailed him a good one. Her martial arts instructor must have been good, because she'd kicked him by reflex. He closed his eyes and sat against the bulkhead, holding in his arms the fleet's finest gunner, at this moment just a terrified girl suffering from some unseen horror he could only guess at.
* * *
They were still sitting there half an hour later, Landon propped against the bulkhead, weary beyond words but unable to sleep, Onja dozing in his arms. The rack shuddered, bringing Landon's senses instantly alert. He raised his head to listen, then felt another shudder, then a jolt. Like an earthquake — only asteroids didn't have earthquakes. Had they collided with another rock?
He laid Onja down on her pillow and was crawling over the end of the rack when the next jolt came, this one so hard he went sprawling headfirst to the deck. He heard the explosion this time, and suddenly the overhead speaker went crazy, a whooping siren filling the room. Onja jerked upright with a scream. She stared at Landon as he grabbed for his clothes and hastily climbed into them.
"Major! What the hell —"
"ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL! THE ASTEROID BASE IS UNDER ATTACK! ALL PERSONNEL EXECUTE EMERGENCY PLAN ECHO. REPEAT, THE ASTEROID BASE IS UNDER ATTACK.…!"
Landon didn't hear the rest. He was out the door and racing down the corridor toward Operations with Onja, wearing only pants and a bra, at his heels. The deck shuddered again and they could hear the whistle of air. Loose papers and bits of debris whipped past. People in various stages of undress, a few not dressed at all, were emerging from their quarters. Armed Star Police raced in the opposite direction, everyone shouting at once.
Landon burst into Operations to find the tactical people in disarray, issuing conflicting orders, everyone looking scared. Captain Hedges, the officer of the deck, hurried up to Landon with haunted eyes.
"Report!" Landon ordered.
"We're not sure what's happening!" Hedges recited hurriedly. "We do know the hangar bay has taken several hits, and there's decompression on the bottom four levels. We're trying to seal off decks 5 on up, but there's atmospheric leakage and we don't know if we can stop it in time!"
"Damage control?"
"On their way. We've ordered everyone else into pressure suits or chambers."
"What about the patrol squadrons?"
"The 57 has nine ships out but they're due back in an hour. The 99 is on station."
"How many ships?"
"Six."
God! Fifteen ships out on patrol, the rest sitting like ducks in the hangar bay. If the attack was focused there, those ships would be scrap by now. Landon's blood turned to ice.
"What about topside defenses?"
"They've lost power up there, we can't talk to them. Don't know what they're doing."
"Did Ladar pick up anything coming in?"
"Nothing. It's the same old story — no sign of the enemy until they opened fire. Shit, we don't even know how many there are. Could be a fucking taskforce sitting out there for all we know."
Landon considered briefly, then made a difficult decision that he had no time to consider further.
"Break SpectraWav silence. Send a burst transmission to both patrols, get them back here fast. Don't identify the base, but let them know we have a Mayday. Repeat the burst to Luna so they know we're in trouble. They can't do a damned thing about it, but if we disappear in the next few hours, they need to know why."
Landon turned and raced out of the control center before Hedges could reply. Onja was right with him.
"What now, Major? Is this the end for us?"
"You tell me, honey. Whatever it means, it ain't good!"
He reached his office and snapped on the comm link. He immediately called the Star Police office and raised the ranking officer, who had also been hauled out of bed to handle the emergency.
"This is Landon!" he said crisply. "I want your people to cover the lifts leading down to the lower levels. No one except Star Marines below Level 6, and send a detachment down to Level 5 to evacuate anyone who is still alive."
"Aye-aye, Major!"
Next Landon raised the captain commanding a company-sized detachment of Star Marines, stationed on the base for this very purpose.
"I want all your people deployed at the lowest level possible to cover access from the hangar bay. If we have boarders coming in, I don't want them waltzing in here unopposed. Make them fight for it level by level."
"We're already in place, Major. Any idea how big a force is out there?"
"We don't know yet. I'll keep you posted."
The next few hours were a nightmare of confusion, speculation, and uncertainty. There were no more shudders or jolts, and damage control got the air leak plugged within a few minutes. Noncombatants were herded into special pressurized rooms where they waited helplessly for the worst, but the worst didn't come. Fighter crews waited in their ready rooms, unable to reach their ships; Landon addressed all crews and gave them what information he had, which was pitifully thin, and the hours dragged slowly by.
The ships on patrol received their Mayday transmission and returned immediately, systems armed and ready. The first pair to arrive encountered a single enemy fighter sitting off the hangar bay and destroyed it; that was all they found.
But the hangar bay was a shambles. Fighters, shuttles, repair tugs, and almost all equipment had been destroyed; the entire bay was littered with wreckage and bodies. Two hundred maintenance people had been on duty in the bay, along with the crews of two ASC emplacements on the surface. Returning fighters had to wait for damage control people to rig an emergency airlock before they could enter the base, and when they arrived it gradually became clear that the enemy was not prepared to board. Landon ordered a general stand down, though everyone remained on alert.
The enemy wasn't out there.
Yet.
But AB-131 was clearly finished.
Chapter 18
Denver, CO, Terra
Angela Martinez heard the door chime but didn't answer it. She was heavily pregnant and hadn't been out of the house for days. Although the pregnancy was progressing nicely, she was bloated from water retention and her joints cracked when she walked. That might be normal, but she preferred not to be seen, especially by people she knew.
A sonogram had confirmed she was carrying a boy. She hadn't planned to get pregnant, but looked forward to being a mother. The thought of having Johnny Lincoln's baby filled her with hope — when he found out, he just might do the "right thing". The only question was, when should she tell him?
Her brother tapped on her door. "Angie, somebody to see you."
She peeked out. "Who is it?"
Rico shrugged. "Some guy. Never seen him before."
Well, Rico had met J
ohnny, so it wasn't him. She ran a brush through her hair and waddled to the front door. When she saw who was waiting on the porch, her heart sank.
Brad Lincoln was staring across the street, a distant look in his eyes. A bouquet of flowers hung from his hand, upside down. One of his pockets was inside out. When she pulled the door open he turned to look at her.
"Hi, Angie."
Angela dredged up a smile. "Hi," she said.
"I haven't seen you for awhile. Wondered what happened to you."
She stepped outside and closed the door. Brad stared at her belly as if in shock. For one long moment his tongue traced across his lips, but he didn't speak.
"I took some time off," she said. "How've you been?"
"I-I been okay. I got a job."
Angela was surprised. "Really? Where?"
"Downtown. I don't get paid, but …"
"What kind of job is it?"
"S-saving the trees." He was still staring at her belly. "It's important, you know. Trees are important."
She nodded. "Yes, they are."
He was silent for thirty seconds, one eye twitching occasionally.
"When are you coming back to work?" he asked finally.
"In a couple of months."
"Okay. Y-you want to go to d-dinner some time?"
Angela shook her head wearily. "I don't think so, Brad. I'm going to have a baby pretty soon."
He met her eyes for the first time, the shock still in his eyes. For the first time, she almost felt sorry for him.
"Did you … get married?"
"No. Not yet."
"You going to?"
"I hope so."
His eyes lost their focus as he stared at her. She waited uncomfortably, wishing he'd leave, unwilling to offend him.
"I think I'd better go," he said finally. "Good luck with the baby."
"Thanks. Good luck on your new job."
Without another word he turned and headed down the steps. The flowers still dangled from his hand.
Asteroid Base 131, Solar System
Landon stood alone in the observation lounge, staring out at the asteroids as he did every day. Twelve hours had passed since the attack on the hangar bay, and he was facing the most difficult decision of his life. Fifteen fighters had survived because they'd been on patrol when the attack came. Everything else in the hangar had been destroyed except for a single ResQMed, which had been parked behind a rock facing and was protected from the Sirian fighter.
