Resolute Glory (The War for Terra Book 8)

by James Prosser

  Alice felt strong hands take her arm and guide her towards the door. The Tonal weapons officer was taller than most and had a hairless head and jutting brow. Alice tried not to think of the pain in her back as she carefully stepped up towards the door. As she took the step, another jolt dropped her back to the deck in time to see a plume of red-orange fire slice the tactical officer’s head from his shoulders. The body was still reaching out to try and help her as it fell forward over her exposed back, covering her in thick blood from the man’s neck. It kept her from screaming lest she get blood in her mouth.

  The Tonal’s body rolled away, and long-fingered hands slid under her, lifting her from the deck. The plasma jet shooting from the wall panel made her back flare with pain again as she passed the heat under the red-orange flame. Voices yelled at the edge of her perception, but coherence was running away faster than she could catch. She felt a cooler breeze against her damaged skin and the smoke cleared as she was moved from the bridge to the corridor outside. A jolt as a panel kicked from the wall, clattering to the deck, she was shoved through a narrow opening into darkness again, and lights sprang up around her. In a motion almost too tender, she was laid on a short sofa face-down. There was another loud noise and motion.

  “Commander?” a soothing voice called from far away. “Alice? Are you awake?”

  “Farthing?” Alice slurred through the pain. “Where are we? I heard … something.”

  “We’ve ejected from Kongo. I’m afraid I have failed in my duty to my first ship. She is dying.”

  “What?” Alice replied, trying to raise herself to look around the cramped cockpit. “Where is Lee?”

  “Alice, I don’t think you—”

  “Where the hell is he?” Alice cried. “He should be here to rescue us. It’s what he does.”

  “I don’t think he is coming this time,” Farthing replied, turning to look into her foggy eyes. “I think we are on our own.”

  Alice looked past Farthing. He had turned the screen to view the assault frigate, moving away from them at speed. In her mind, she understood it was them moving away from the ship, but the connection was not being made. As she watched, the ship began to shake in space. After three mighty wobbles, the vessel erupted in a red-orange fireball of burning plasma. Shrapnel and chunks of the ship shot out in all directions. Alice stared at the vessel which had served them so well. As the fires began to bleed off into space, she looked back at Farthing. Although he had not looked back, she knew he understood what had happened. The escape ship shook as bits of the frigate impacted her shields, knelling through the hull.

  “We need to get clear,” Farthing said, his voice choking. I need to contact the other escape pods. They’ll be looking for us.”

  “This is a big escape pod,” Alice said, looking around at the shuttle-sized vessel. “I thought these things were just capsules.”

  “Captain’s shuttle,” Farthing replied, turning back to the controls and altering the view. “I have space for the bridge crew and communications.”

  “Handy,” Alice said. “Does it have a med-kit?”

  “Beside your head. In the red panel.”

  Alice turned her neck, feeling the skin peeling from her damaged back. She pressed the bright red panel with a crescent symbol hard and the panel opened, revealing a small but well stocked medical kit. She pulled the kit from the panel and placed it on the floor beneath her. After a brief struggle with the lid, she finally found an anesthetic spray. It hurt, but she was able to spray her back with one arm while holding herself off the couch with the other. Another search of the kit found a small injector and vials of painkiller. Loading the injector, she pressed it to her arm. Instant relief flooded her nerve endings.

  It was a long time before she realized her surroundings were changing. The light from the view screen had moved from a natural starlight reflection to a bright artificial glare. She tried to lever her body from the couch, but her arms refused to support her weight. With a supreme effort, she was able to put both hands on the floor and push. Her back flared to life with pain, which cleared her head and made her conscious of a change in the artificial gravity.

  She raised her head to look out the screen and was surprised to see artificial light and a familiar ceiling. There was an audible clank that sounded familiar to her.

  “Commander Bennett?” Farthing said, kneeling low to look into her eyes. “We’re here. Can you stand?”

  “I don’t think so,” Alice replied. “I can’t seem to find my legs.”

  “I’ll get help. Wait here.”

  The white-furred face moved away, leaving her alone in the fuzzy reality of the painkiller. She tried to look around, her head way too heavy for her shoulders. Despite the pain, she swung her head around to see behind her. On another chair—the co-pilot’s chair, she remembered —was slumped a young woman. The communications officer, the same woman Farthing had had in his arms when she’d looked around the bridge. He must have carried both of them to the escape ship.

  She realized how much he was acting like her beloved Lee, and finally she began to cry, until the pain overwhelmed her and she lay back down. Voices entered the cabin and she tried to keep her consciousness at hand. She felt another cool spray at her back and soothing voices trying to keep her awake. Dark skin flashed before her eyes, along with clean white pants. Finally, the face of Doctor Demsiri appeared before her, trying to speak to her, but she could only hear through a long tube. As she lost consciousness, another voice entered her mind. It was familiar, but gave her only the sense of an impending nightmare.

  “Alice,” Admiral Ronald Chang said. “Welcome home.”

  7

  Venus Atmospheric Research Colony

  The descent into the thermosphere of Venus had been a harrowing journey. Henry had recovered from his episode and made the pleasant-faced android promise never to imitate Emma again. They passed the time amiably, she asking occasional questions about Earth and Henry telling stories about the war. Once, she asked about his breakdown after their escape, and he had to admit he could barely remember any of it. Blaming it on the excitement of the battle and on his body of injury and stress, he eluded any further attempts to discuss it. Now, though, with the ship bucking hard under her control, he felt the same familiar sensation of the world closing in, his eyesight darkening.

  “Are we there yet?” Henry said, hearing the whining tone of his voice and cringing at the effect.

  “Henry Moore,” the woman replied. “As you are well aware, the atmospheric station is located at two-hundred kilometers above the surface in a neutral zone of medium level haze and a mean temperature between one-twenty and two hundred Celsius. Readings on your panel show we are still above that level. Please look before you ask these questions to avoid unnecessary recurrence of your event.”

  “I know that,” Henry replied, sighing. “I just … I want to know how close we are and—”

  “The display is just in front of you.”

  “My eyes are closed, okay?” Henry said, embarrassed. “Looking at that whiteout outside is giving me a headache. Can we take an easier route?”

  “This is the steep-angle entry to the station based on records,” the android replied. “There are no other routes designed for maximum efficiency. I estimate only a few more minutes, however.”

  Henry tried to open one eye. The view screen showed only the bright cloud layer outside. They were entering on the day side of the planet and the albedo was nearly blinding. Henry’s companion had no need of seeing through the window and so had not noticed how bright it was. With his eye carefully cracked, Henry reached out and tapped the control to turn off the screen. Instantly they were plunged into near darkness with only the lights of the controls illuminating the cabin.

  “Better,” Henry said, blinking spots from his eye. “Now, about that arrival time…”

  “This craft’s limited sensors are showing less than one hundred kilometers to go,” the woman responded. “I suppose I can’t
say we are truly there yet, right?”

  “Not until all this shaking stops,” Henry said, forgetting she was not a real woman. “Once we’re on a deck and the hatches open, then we’re truly there.”

  “I see,” replied the android. “Perhaps you could signal the station to prepare for our arrival?”

  Henry reached for the console. He had argued with his companion about whether anyone would be able to respond to a hail. Her research had shown the station had not been reactivated after the war, but there were also no records of any evacuation. Henry thought they were probably wiped out when the Ch’Tauk invaded the system originally, and the communication buoy orbiting the planet had proven this theory. Pieces of the satellite were still orbiting, but the signal had long since ceased.

  If there were survivors, it would only be courteous to ask before activating the automatic docking system. But then again, most likely the inhabitants would have shiny black armored skin and four claws for fingers.

  “Venus Station, this is Service Shuttle Epsilon Two-Niner requesting access,” Henry said into the comm. The absence of the orbital relay meant they had to be close to avoid the high ionization in the atmosphere. “Venus Station, requesting access, over?”

  Nothing but static from the radio as the ship drew closer. Henry could feel the shuttle being buffeted by the high winds, his anxiety growing even though he knew the station must be abandoned. The shuttle was unarmed. If there was trouble, there would only be a bright flash before his atoms were scattered to the sulfur dioxide winds. For a moment, he thought he heard something on the radio, but it was probably just static from the lightning below.

  “There’s nobody there,” Henry said to his companion. “Send the signal and get us inside before the skin on this heap melts.”

  “Sergeant Major, I believe there is a signal incoming,” replied the android. “Please attune your hearing.”

  “There’s nothing, it’s just static,” Henry replied. “And I can’t attune my hearing any more than you can stub your toe.”

  “Please…”

  Henry turned his head back towards the speaker. There did seem to be a sense of organization to the static. He leaned closer to the comm as a blast of static washed over the cabin. He leaned back and stuck a finger in his ear to clear the whine from his head. As the static cleared, he leaned closer. He could just make out a signal over the static.

  “…shuttle … cleared … armed … destroyed…”

  “Well, that sounds promising,” Henry said. “Can we still climb outta this?”

  “Negative,” the woman replied. “We do not have the power to increase altitude.”

  “What?” Henry said, looking into her pleasant face. “You said we could pull off if we found trouble.”

  “I underestimated the acid distribution of these clouds,” the android replied. “Your estimation of our ship’s hull integrity was correct. Our skin is melting. I estimate less than four minutes until breach.”

  “Unidentified vessel, you are on final approach to … station. Please follow pre-assigned course and speed to docking … three-niner…”

  “I believe the point is moot,” said the woman. “We are being sent a homing signal. It appears we are saved from melting.”

  Henry ground his teeth. It was fortunate the station had responded to their hail, but it felt wrong. The voice sounded mechanical, as if an automated system had engaged and was not letting them go. He watched as the android maneuvered the craft closer. There was little sign of the station despite the readings showing it to be only a few meters away.

  He sensed a dark surface below them as the ship slowed to a halt. The android held the shuttle steady as it was directed to descend into a hollowed-out circle in the top of the station. A hatch, shaped like the rounded walls of the enclosure, slid into place and they were inside.

  “Welcome inside, Jonah,” Henry said. “I hope you like the fish.”

  “Fish?” replied the companion. “Is this a biblical reference? I have read the text and would love to—”

  “Wait,” Henry said. “What’s happening outside?”

  The area beyond the hull had begun to clear. The vaporous clouds trapped inside when the hatch closed dissipated. He could see now that the enclosure was not circular but oval. For a moment he felt like a chick inside an egg. The walls were made of a coppery metal that reflected the glow from their thrusters as the android kept them steady. When the fog dissipated completely, the room flooded with a fine white powder. The ship shuddered again, but it had a softer feel than the turbulence from outside. The screen washed over with filtered light as the descent signal was given again. The android lowered the shuttle through a new opening in the floor. Again, Henry felt as if he were being swallowed.

  Finally, the ship settled to a deck and his companion cycled down the engines. Henry felt his fingers relax on the arms of the chair as the screen turned black and the hatch opened on the ship.

  “There is breathable atmosphere and a safe environment outside,” the android said. “We can disembark.”

  “It may be breathable,” Henry said, reaching under the seat and extracting his pistol. “I don’t know about safe.”

  He retrieved his holster from the small cabinet at the back of the ship and stepped to the doorway. His natural instinct said to wait and see who appeared. He was rewarded for his patience by the sound of a door sliding open and footsteps outside the ship, the echo of boots on a metal floor. Counting the timing, he estimated the owner of the boots to be about his height but walking with some difficulty. The person outside was alone.

  “We must go,” the woman said, trying to push past him and exit the ship. “It would be rude not to go.”

  “Not yet,” Henry said, checking the charge on the pistol and pressing his back closer to the hull. “We don’t know if it’s Ch’Tauk or what out there. Wait until they identify.”

  “Henry Moore,” the woman replied, staring into his eyes before stepping past him into the doorway. “Ch’Tauk do not wear shoes.”

  Before he could stop her, the woman had stepped to the short ramp and into the bay outside. Henry let out a grunt of frustration but swiveled around to face the entrance. He could see her back, and a small man with a wide smile and few teeth. Henry leveled his pistol towards the small man and stepped outside. He could hear the man, who had a short white beard and worn but comfortable clothes, breathing as though he was out of breath. It was obvious he had been rushing to meet the new arrival and was now excited to see them. The ship seemed to be lying in a puddle of water.

  “Identify yourself,” Henry ordered, standing behind the woman. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

  “Kip,” replied the man with a slight chuckle. “My name is Kip and I’m standing here answering your questions.”

  “I mean what are you doing on this station?” Henry said, taken aback by the answer and the man’s lack of concern over his pistol. “How did you get here?”

  “Same as everyone,” replied Kip. “Ship brought us all out here a while ago and here’s where we stayed.”

  “We?” Henry said. “How many of you are there and what species?”

  “You know, that’s a whole bunch of questions and not a single answer. Why don’t you tell me your name and I’ll answer a few more for you.”

  “I have no designation aside from the model number of this body,” replied the android. “This is Sergeant Major Henry Moore of the Alliance Intelligence Services.”

  “Well,” replied the old man, “that’s a mouthful, ain’t it?”

  Henry noticed his pistol had begun to lower. He hadn’t meant to drop the aim, but the man was so unassuming and amiable he couldn’t help it. He raised the sight again but released the trigger. He took a deep breath, for the first time noticing the strong rotten egg smell of the landing bay. He almost gagged on the stench before he regained control of his breathing. He had smelled worse in his time and did not want to show weakness to the potential threat.
The man cleared his throat and stared back at him. After a moment, the android stepped closer and extended a hand.

  “Hello,” she said to the shorter man. “Nice to meet you, Kip.”

  “Well now, that’s a mite better,” replied the old man, taking the android’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “You all came in at a fiery hurry. Almost burned off your hull in the process. We ain’t used that base spray in a while. I’m surprised it still works.”

  “Base?” Henry replied before looking over his shoulder at the smoldering wreck they had been travelling in.

  The ship’s gray hull had been burned away, leaving barely a thin layer of insulated metallic composite. Streaks of orange and red covered the engine pods, giving the ship the look of a beast from hell. He could still make out wisps of smoke and heat from the shuttle, streams of water running from the hull. He realized the acid nature of the Venusian atmosphere must have been countered by some sort of base, making the ship less caustic and creating the water that surrounded them.

  “Now why don’t you two just come on inside and get outta the smell?” said Kip. “There’s a heap of people waiting in here to meet you. You say you’re from the Alliance?”

  “Sort of,” Henry replied before dropping the pistol and looking back at the man. “We were hoping to get a faster ship and get back to Earth.”

  “I thought you said you were from the Alliance,” Kip replied, turning and walking back to the small door in the large wall. “Make up your mind.”

  “We’re from the Alliance, but I’m from Earth,” Henry replied, trying to make sense of the conversation. “Aren’t you from Earth?”

  “Oh, in the roundabout way I suppose so,” Kip replied before turning back around. “Ain’t never heard of the Alliance, though. That one of them military colonies?”

  “Hold on, Kip,” Henry said, stopping at the doorway and gripping his pistol tighter. “You’ve never heard of the Alliance?”

  “Nope,” replied kip. “Should I’ve? We come out here about forty years ago by local time. I suppose it’s about twenty or so years by Terran time. How’s the Confederacy?”