“Contact! Bearing three, eight, seven,” someone shouted from the control station below Dean’s perch on the command deck. “Designate Zulu Three.”
“On screen,” Matsumoto ordered after glancing at the plot to see the new ship.
“It’s huge, sir,” said someone from below. “Has to be another harvester ship.”
“Contact!” the radar officer shouted again. “It’s in the shadow of Zulu Three, but it’s there, sir. Designate Zulu Four.”
“Captain Dante, send two seed ships,” Dean ordered.
“Roger that,” Esma replied.
“Perhaps the harvester will require more ordinance,” Matsumoto said.
“It’s possible, but I’m not looking to vaporize the Kroll. I want to destroy their fleet, and if a single nuke doesn’t disable them I’ll be damn surprised. Besides, we can’t waste the tug vessels—we only have a set number of them.”
Matsumoto nodded and they both turned back to the plot. They could see tiny blue V-shaped icons moving toward the larger orange blobs.
“What’s the distance?” Dean asked.
“Four hundred miles and closing,” Matsumoto said. “Do you think there will be more?”
“Most likely, but I don’t want to wait for them. We should take out these two, launch the Hannibal and continue toward the Urgglatta system. That’s where we want to make a statement, not out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Seed ship Alpha Four has made contact with Zulu Three,” the radar officer announced.
“Come on, come on,” Dean said.
“Something is happening on the harvester ship,” the radar officer said.
“Major!” Esma’s voice had an edge of panic to it. “They’ve launched their own tug vessels.”
“Watch yourself, Alpha Three,” Dean instructed. “Don’t let them swat you away.”
There was no access on the bridge of the individual tug ships’ flight optics, so Dean couldn’t see what was happening, but he had a pretty good idea. The feline aliens that piloted the Kroll tug ships were not combat pilots, but whoever was flying the nuclear armed seed ship had plenty of experience on the VR combat training sims for drone operators. The ship slipped easily past the first few enemy ships, then went into a diving plunge only to curl back up and corkscrew through the remaining enemy ships.
“Seed ship Alpha Three has made contact with Zulu Four,” the radar officer called out.
“Operators, release your ordinance,” Dean ordered.
The seed ship erupted suddenly in a blast of nuclear light, forcing Dean to look away from the vid screen for a moment. When he looked back, the harvester vessel blew apart with an expanded cloud of fire filling the space where she had been. Huge chunks went sailing in every direction. It wasn’t as impressive as the total annihilation of the smaller longships, but it was certainly just as effective.
“Both bogeys neutralized,” the radar controller said.
“What about the remaining enemy tugs?” Matsumoto said.
“It looks like they’re advancing toward us,” the officer replied.
“Estimated time to contact?”
“Sixty seconds would be my guess.”
“Commander, this is the Moses, moving to intercept,” Admiral Aviv’s voice crackled over the task force comlink.
“Negative Moses, you can’t close the distance fast enough, and we’re ready for boarders,” Dean said. “Stand by to escort the Hannibal away from the combat zone.”
“Initiate rotation,” Matsumoto ordered. “Let’s move the Hannibal away from those approaching vessels.”
“Captain Parker, Captain Grant, you have boarders approaching,” Dean warned his Recon platoons. “Get the Wolfpack and Raptor squads ready to move. Weapons hot. It should be the feline aliens. Prepare for combat.”
“This is Admiral Matsumoto,” the naval officer announced on the ship-wide comm channel. “The Bushido will be boarded. Please clear the ring section. I repeat, all non-combatants are to move into the aviary and take up your designated battle stations.”
“Tallgrass, are you ready?” Dean asked over his platoon channel.
“Yes, sir. Just give the word,” she repeated.
“The word is given,” Dean said. The words felt wrong in his mouth.
He didn’t mind sending the Hannibal on its way back to Earth. And he didn’t even mind relinquishing Querf, although he was constantly thinking of more questions for the gregarious little alien. What bothered Dean was the knowledge that his staff sergeant, Joaquin Chavez, was on the Hannibal in the makeshift sick bay. The med tech along with Demolition Corporal Robb Landin had prepared for the transition, moving most of the medical supplies including the robotic surgery arms into one of the holding cells shortly after Querf had shown the engineers how to tap into the ship’s power supply. But Chavez needed weeks of rest before he even started physical therapy, and there was no reason for the big staff sergeant to stay. Still, Dean had never been on a mission without Chavez by his side, and somehow it felt wrong to send his friend away.
“Vice Admiral Anders,” Dean said, switching back to the command channel. “Is your ship free, over?”
“We are free and engaging the gravity drive, Major. Good luck with your mission, over.”
“Safe journey, Vice Admiral. It was a pleasure serving with you, over.”
“And with all of you. May God go with you. This is the Hannibal, signing off.”
Dean wanted to activate the cameras that would show the EsDef escort ship racing away, taking back the prizes of war and the hope of the future, but instead he focused on the ships latching themselves onto the Bushido.
“Raptor platoon, you have boarders in holding cells sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen,” Dean ordered.
“Roger that,” Grant replied.
“Wolfpack, you have boarders in holding cells seven, twelve, fourteen, and fifteen.”
“Affirmative, Major. Are you joining the party?” Parker asked.
“Not unless you need me.”
“No sir, we can handle a few stray cats.”
“Stay on your toes, Parker. I don’t want any casualties.”
“Yes sir, we’re good to go.”
“Captain Ortega,” Dean said. “Prepare for possible boarders. If any of the aliens get past the Raptors and Wolfpack, your Vipers are cleared for action.”
“Orders confirmed, Major. We’re ready,” the serious Latino officer replied.
Dean saw the heavily armed Viper platoon marching across the open space in the aviary. They took a defensive position near one of the tall boulders, their sniper using her jetpack to scale the rock and take an overwatch position. Dean was itching to join his platoon, but that wasn’t his assignment. He needed to give orders and oversee the entire situation, not just lead a single platoon. There were fourteen teardrop-shaped ships fixing themselves to the Bushido, and Dean fully expected fourteen very angry feline aliens to emerge from those pods and rush to the attack. He didn’t expect them to be victorious, but any living creature fighting for its life was dangerous.
“The Hannibal is away,” the radar control officer declared.
“Prepare to continue the mission,” Matsumoto said over the command channel. “Countdown to launch in six minutes.”
“You don’t want to inspect the wreckage of that harvester ship?” Masterson said.
“No,” Dean said, agreeing with Matsumoto. “Nothing is alive on the wreckage and we have a mission to complete.”
“You’ve got it,” Masterson said. “Countdown to launch in six minutes.”
“Six minutes, confirmed,” Aviv said.
“On my mark,” Matsumoto said.
On Dean’s TCU he watched the vid feed from Adkins’, Ghost’s, and Parker’s battle armor. Captain Parker had wisely positioned an HA Specialist in the doorway of each of the holding cells where the aliens were expected to breach the ship. There was also a backup at each position, including Parker, who was filling in for T
allgrass. Tallgrass had been busy ensuring the Hannibal was cleared of the goo and that she was able to make her escape.
The utility cannons swiveled into action, easily tracking the openings that formed between the alien tugs and the holding cells. When the feline creatures came through, most were killed by a single burst from the HA utility cannons. Some of the holding cells were set up for various activities, but they could be cleaned up and rebuilt. Dean didn’t blame his people for not sparing the facilities in order to take out the enemy.
“Looks like we’re clear,” Parker said. “Eight aliens terminated.”
“Captain Grant?” Dean asked.
“We’ve almost got them all,” he responded. “They’re climbing the damn walls.”
A few minutes later all the aliens were dead, and Dean turned to Matsumoto.
“Enemy threat neutralized,” he informed the admiral.
“Begin the countdown,” Matsumoto said.
“The good news,” Parker reported, “is that we picked up fourteen more seed ships to carry nukes to the enemy.”
“All we have to do is survive long enough to deploy them,” Ghost said.
“And hope they didn’t find a way to communicate our tactics,” Dean said. “Let’s hope surprise is still on our side.”
“It would be a bitch to show up and have them ready for us,” Adkins said.
“Indeed,” Dean agreed. “Let’s clean up our mess and then see to your armor and weapons.”
“Yes sir,” Parker said, sounding more enthusiastic than Dean had heard her since she came on board the alien craft. He suspected that leading a platoon suited her in ways she had long forgotten. But he was glad to see her losing the melancholy that had surrounded her since the news of Colonel Davis’s assassination.
When Dean looked up, he saw Esma and her operators walking across the aviary. Dean stayed on the command platform until the ships were underway. Not that he could do anything or even participate in what was strictly a naval operation, but he didn’t want to send a message that proceeding on their mission wasn’t important.
“Task Force is clear,” Dean said over the open channel so that everyone on all three ships heard him. “Stand down from battle stations. Begin after exercise evals.”
Once he left the bridge he found Esma waiting for him. She looked happy but nervous at the same time.
“The exercise was a success,” she said.
“More than an exercise,” Dean said. “I’m glad we found out that our plan works, but I hope we don’t lose the element of surprise.”
“Did the Hannibal get away?” she asked.
“It did.”
“There goes hot showers for a while,” Esma said with a smile.
“And the best food in the fleet.”
They strolled casually across the aviary. Dean wasn’t in a hurry to see the feline aliens the Recon platoons had slaughtered. He was glad they had been able to take their enemy out, but he wondered how it would feel to be on a tiny one-man ship and see the huge vessel one thought of as home obliterated. The aliens were probably glad to have been killed so quickly, but Dean knew if it were him he would have wanted to exact at least a small measure of revenge.
“You seem a little distracted,” Esma said. “Did things not go as well as I thought?”
“No,” Dean said. “If anything, the nukes work better than we dreamed. They essentially vaporize the longships. As long as the Kroll don’t know we’re coming, we’ll strike a devastating blow just as Colonel Davis envisioned.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“I guess I’m a little upset that Staff Sergeant Chavez is gone.”
“He left on the Hannibal?”
“Yes, he wasn’t cleared from surgery yet.”
“But he’s going to be okay?”
“Eventually,” Dean said. “It’s selfish, really. I’ve just never been on a deployment without him. It feels different. It feels like I’m partially blind.”
“Well, you never know how things will turn out,” Esma said in a way that Dean found strangely unsympathetic. “I’ve got to get people started on building remote piloting controls for the new seed ships.”
Dean wasn’t quite sure what to say. He felt like she simply didn’t care about his feelings. He wanted to blow the matter off and pretend it didn’t happen, but when Esma looked up at him with a mischievous grin, he felt truly wounded. Her operators had done a splendid job and the plan had worked as perfectly as they could have hoped for, but he couldn’t understand why she seemed not to care about how he was feeling.
“I’ve always got work to do,” Dean said, trying not to sound hurt. “I guess I’ll head over to the comms center.”
“Good, I’ll swing by when I get a chance.”
She squeezed his hand in lieu of a kiss, which was impossible in her evac suit and Dean’s battle armor. He watched her hurry through the chute to the ring portion of the ship. He followed with less enthusiasm. Everything was good, yet he felt as if he were missing some glaring problem and that it would spell doom for the entire mission.
When he reached the comms center where his office was tucked into the corner, he was shocked to see Tallgrass waiting for him. And sitting in Dean’s chair, his long legs crossed over the corner of the desk, was Staff Sergeant Joaquin Chavez. He wasn’t in battle armor, but his baggy utility fatigues hung from his big frame like bed sheets. The skin on his face was slightly pale, but he was smiling.
“What the hell is going on in here?” Dean said, trying to sound stern but his joy was too evident.
“You didn’t think I was running home with my tail between my legs, did you?” Chavez asked.
“He insisted,” Tallgrass said. “I almost blew his stupid ass up when he came staggering out of the Hannibal.”
“I wasn’t staggering—that’s just my swag, sweetheart,” Chavez shot back.
“Corporal Landin came with him,” Tallgrass continued. “No one wanted to miss this mission, sir.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m not glad to have you with us, Staff Sergeant,” Dean said, realizing that Esma must have known that Chavez was in his office. “But you are still restricted from duty.”
“I know, I know. Tallgrass threatened to shoot me again if I tried anything.”
“As soon as you’re able, I want you back in battle armor. If the Kroll board us again, we might be surprised. Chances are they’ll adapt their tactics.”
“But the nukes worked, right?” Chavez asked.
“Like a charm,” Dean said.
“Damn, sir, I wish I could have seen it.”
Dean stepped up to his console and plugged his battle armor into the system to play back the vid footage it had recorded while Dean was on the bridge.
“We’ll review it together, as well as go over the entire operation,” Dean said. “If you get tired, just say the word and we’ll get you into a berth.”
“I’ve already got a space prepped,” Tallgrass said. “I’ll look after him, Major, if that’s alright with you.”
“Of course it is,” Dean said, nodding at Sergeant Tallgrass.
Everything seemed to be right in that moment for Dean. Their mission, their ability to carry it out, the effectiveness of the plan, and having his platoon whole again made everything seem better somehow. Dean was able to ignore the worry that was bubbling just beneath the surface of his conscious. They were headed into the lion’s den, and Dean was afraid the enemy knew they were coming.
Chapter 38
The week following the encounter with the Kroll, there was a different mood among the crew of the E.S.D.F. Bushido. The feeling of jubilation that followed the attack and their successful defeat of four Kroll ships faded quickly. Querf was gone, and everyone knew they were rocketing through enemy territory with no real idea what they might face when they reached the Urgglatta home world. Tension was the new normal. They had seed ships with nuclear warheads that could vaporize enemy ships, but the Kroll had technology that no one in
the task force understood. At any moment the trio of warships could be brought to a halt, and there was nothing anyone could about it.
Dean kept his people busy. The seed ships they captured were inspected inside and out. They had to be charged, which took a while to learn how to do without Querf there to guide the engineers. The remote piloting gear had to be installed and tested, at least as much as it was able to be tested without actually flying the vessels. The tug ships were fast—perhaps even faster than the larger ships by virtue of their smaller mass, which made them even more maneuverable and faster at reaching light speed—but they could only travel relatively short distances. While the harvester was at FTL, launching the tug vessels was impossible.
The alien bodies were jettisoned, their blood cleaned from every surface. The rooms where they had fought had to be rebuilt. But work was good—it kept everyone busy and focused. Dean and Chavez, who spent most of his time in Dean’s office, reviewed the platoon footage from the Raptors under Grant’s command. There was nothing to criticize; Grant had deployed his force strategically, if somewhat conservatively, with fire teams at the entrance to every room he was charged with protecting, and one in reserve.
Dean made reports with footage from both teams and records of his previous encounters with the Kroll and their subjugated fighting force, which he then assigned to all the Recon platoons for study and preparation. The specialists on the Moses and the Dodge City needed to see how quickly the aliens could move and what tactics they employed.
A report was made with radar and video footage of the seed ship avoiding the enemy’s vessels. Dean didn’t think the Kroll could communicate his task force’s exact strategy, but the battle had demonstrated that their enemy knew something was up, which was why they attempted to stop the nuclear-armed seed ship from contacting their harvester. The operators needed to be ready to face adverse conditions as they flew their seed ships to the Kroll vessels. Protecting the nuclear-armed tugs was essential to their mission. The warheads were much too valuable to waste if the seed ship was disabled and failed to carry the nuclear weapons to the massive enemy ships.
Eventually, the countdown to their destination began. The last twenty-four hours were the hardest. Dean spent as much time with Esma as possible. Their relationship had deepened. At times, Dean wanted to be intimate so badly that his body ached, but he refused to break protocol by removing his battle armor. They spent hours talking about their families and childhoods. Esma was older than Dean by almost five years, yet the age difference seemed inconsequential to the happy couple. The prospect of death, which loomed over the entire task force, only seemed to make every moment they spent together more significant.
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