Target: Earth (Extinction Wars Book 5)

by Vaughn Heppner

  The force axe lived up to its horrible reputation. It sheared through the clone, cleaving through flesh, muscle and bone with equal ease, hacking off part of his shoulder and chest from his torso. He bled—a LOT—and toppled over onto the deck.

  The second clone looked up with a what-the-hell expression. It was pure gold as far as I was concerned. The expression began changing as I shoved the force axe into his face like a spear-point. I destroyed his face in a spray of gore and added his melted head to the mess.

  I jumped aside as he also toppled to the floor, making a meaty thump that I heard through my helmet pickup.

  I looked around, finding myself in a large chamber with tons of munitions I didn’t recognize. No one else was in here.

  I frowned. How had I managed to enter the only chamber with two Abaddon clones?

  The answer, of course, was I had not. I let the force axe zip back into the handle and slapped it to my phase-suited side. The suit had a second useful function of shedding all blood. Theirs hadn’t stuck to me.

  Anyway, I picked up an item that had tumbled from one of the clones. It was a box of some kind, a tracking device.

  Son of a gun, I got it. They had been tracking me, able to see where I was while out of phase.

  Had they been able to track the GEV too?

  I didn’t want to call the GEV yet, as that might cause Ella to begin the assault.

  “Right,” I said. I didn’t have time to ponder this. I was on a mission. Two Abaddon clones had possessed a phase tracker. Did that mean the other ships had Abaddon clones with phase trackers?

  “Not necessarily,” I muttered to myself. If the clones could teleport, and I’m sure they could, they could have teleported from ship to ship.

  I laughed. It was an outburst of pent-up emotions and relief that I’d dodged a terrible problem by killing these two in time. Now, I had to get it done.

  I took the phase tracker and ghosted down so everything seemed faint around me. Then, I began humping it through the battleship-sized vessel. I had to find the ultra-detonator and destroy it, and then I had to make sure the slugs didn’t destroy their ship manually, giving the rest of the Lucky Thirteen time to storm the vessel and capture it.

  -55-

  I had no idea how the battle was going outside as I searched for the ultra-detonator inside. It wasn’t easy. For one thing, the Plutonian ship proved to have a nasty environment.

  Instead of regular-sized corridors, it had these metal tunnels with slime tracks in places. The slugs had been as big as cows when I’d seen and killed them before, but apparently, they could wiggle through these tight, tubular corridors.

  Whenever I ghosted up to look around carefully, I noticed the weird drippy walls and the stench of the place. I opened my helmet visor several times. The stench made a Starkien ship seem like a perfume store. The worst smelling were fogs drifting here and there. Plutonian creatures stood in the fogs with their bizarre slug-like skin rippling as if with delight. Sometimes, there were groups of them doing that, touching their disgusting skin against each other.

  I had a powerful desire to draw the force axe and start chopping, but I didn’t want to give myself away until I had to.

  Surely, the two Abaddon clones had checked in periodically. Why hadn’t I sensed alarm among the slugs due to their lack of check-ins? Maybe the Plutonian captain figured the clones had teleported to a different ship.

  Finally, I reached a reactor area. Thank goodness, it was larger, so I didn’t have to crouch down to keep my head out of bulkheads.

  I studied the setup, going from reactor chamber to reactor chamber. Certainly, they could blow the engines, but that wouldn’t produce the same fantastic explosion as came from the ultra-detonator.

  Then, I saw the machine that must have done the special exploding. It was a huge pulsating dome with red veins outlined across it. The dome almost seemed to be alive, or a cross between a biological entity and a machine, but in a Karg-like freaky way. It was the size of a typical garbage truck from before The Day.

  There were no slugs in the chamber, but it did possess what looked like communication devices and cables hooked from it into the nearest bulkhead.

  I thought about that and decided on an Effectuator answer.

  Moving to an out of the way alcove, I phased in and set up a scrambler. That should cut the communications without immediately making the dome or the slug command crew go crazy.

  I phased out again, moved to the dome and phased in. At the same time, I used the force axe and hacked like a Viking berserker.

  It was fitting in a way. I used to be a Star Viking. The old-time berserkers had ripped off all their clothes, racing into battle naked. Usually, they used an axe, but a heavy sword would do the trick almost as well. Some of the berserkers had tied tight ropes around their limbs. That way, if an enemy warrior lopped off an arm or part of an arm, they wouldn’t immediately bleed to death. Vikings considered berserkers consecrated to the All-Father Odin, the king of the Viking gods. The bear or the wolf had been their special totem.

  Berserkers had fought as madmen, attacking in a frenzy and often howling like beasts. Most sane Vikings kept out of a berserker’s way—he often had a hair-trigger temper, flying out of control on a whim.

  Odin had touched them, the others said.

  Well, Odin hadn’t touched me, but I flailed at the pulsating, veiny dome just the same. The force axe hacked out entire chunks. I could see electric sparks in the slimy substance even as green blood gushed from it.

  This thing was alien, all right. It made me think the Plutonians were indeed originally from a different space-time continuum than ours.

  I waded into the torn dome in order to hack out even more. I had no idea how much of the dome—

  My fingers tightened around the force-axe handle. I kicked against solid stuff on the bottom. Looking down, I thought I could see numbers flickering, numbers like those on a ticking bomb.

  I cursed wildly and phased out, forcing myself down into the thing under the floor.

  Right. The dome had been the trigger. This down here was the explosive. I wasn’t sure how to dismantle the bomb. I sensed that a timer was ticking and would soon detonate the bomb and foil my plan.

  I found a tiny area beside the explosive and phased in crouched over like a human cannonball. I activated the force axe and hacked out more area. Then I tunneled with the force axe, trying to slice the terrible bomb into harmless pieces. If it went off now, I was dead. I would not be able to phase out in time to escape.

  If I thought I’d gone berserk earlier, it was nothing compared to this. I used the force axe like a true berserker with no thought for tomorrow. I panted. I growled. I stomped my feet in frustration.

  Finally, I ceased hacking because I needed a breather. Sweat poured off my body, the phase suit’s conditioner unit working overtime to cool me.

  The flickering numbers had stopped moving, or what I’d taken to be alien numbers. Did that mean I’d dismantled the ultra-detonator and its bomb?

  I was going to guess yes and summon the GEV. We had our opening. Now, I had to get to the bridge and make a way into the vessel for my people. The slugs could still destroy their ship the hard way, by blowing the engine or having the other Plutonian ships beam it.

  We’d have to pirate this ship under their very noses if we were going to be successful.

  -56-

  This time, I took stims. I needed energy even if it was going to cost me later. The others were counting on me. If I didn’t do my part, the rest of the Lucky Thirteen plus N7 wouldn’t be able to capture the Plutonian battleship. They would most likely die.

  I raced up the decks in ghost phase. I did not kill any stray slugs along the way because I needed to get to the bridge pronto.

  The vessel shook. I didn’t feel it, but I saw things shaking and shivering around me. Did that mean I was too late? Was I going to have to try for a different vessel?

  The shaking intensified. Explosions began ar
ound me.

  This was bad. I didn’t have a thruster pack anymore. I could not easily transfer to another Plutonian ship.

  “Think, Creed,” I told myself.

  I pivoted in ghost phase and headed to a compartment I’d seen earlier. As the bulkheads continued to shake, as explosions ripped through the battleship, I reached a largish chamber. I studied the machines.

  I’d seen machines like this on Delta Magnus IV, an inner galaxy world where I’d gone on a mission on the Curator’s behalf.

  “Right,” I said.

  I phased in as I dug out a universal chip. The decking rocked under my boots. I heard more ship explosions and felt waves of some kind pass through me. They made my teeth ache.

  Shoving the chip into a slot in the machine, I hoped this piece of Curator tech worked like it was supposed to. The chip sparkled. That was good sign.

  The worst explosion so far shook the deck, panicking me. I ripped out the chip and phased all the way out. I wanted to be sure I survived the explosion.

  I hadn’t summoned the GEV yet. I had a feeling that now I wouldn’t get the chance for this battleship.

  I—

  The box attached to my waist began to flash.

  Since I was out of phase, there was only the gray void around me. The flash—a yellow one—caught my eye. I unhooked the box from my phase suit, realizing this was the phase tracker flashing.

  I saw an image in a circle: the circle was like an old-style radar screen. A yellow dot blipped in and out, moving across the top part of the circle.

  Was that someone else in a phase suit?

  I started in that direction and checked the box, finding the dot moving away from me. I reversed my direction, hurrying the opposite way. Soon, the dot blipped closer to me.

  “Who are you?” I muttered to myself.

  A second dot appeared near the first.

  I swore, put my head down and began to run in that direction. I ran hard as the dots came closer and closer.

  I must have tumbled out of the Plutonian battleship or the vessel had broken up under me, for I was weightless, without gravity to move me. Surely, I drifted in the direction I’d traveled.

  But the dots did not. They veered off at an angle.

  I ghosted up until the stars were extremely faint points of light. Ghostly ships moved around me. The battleship I’d been on lost chunks of itself as explosions ripped through it.

  I strained to see the ghost forms, but saw nothing.

  I checked my phase tracker. The two dots neared a circular edge. They moved away from Earth and from the Moon. Was there a hidden ship out there for them?

  I could not tell.

  Abruptly, the two dots went out of range and off my tracker. They were gone, two phased-out intruders, their identities hidden to me.

  I growled with frustration. Who had that been? I had to know. Had that been Jennifer? Where had she gotten a phase suit?

  “You idiot,” I told myself. She must have stolen one from the Fortress of Light.

  But I’d seen two dots, two individuals. Could Orcus have a phase suit? Did I know for sure it was Jennifer? Was there another player in this game?

  I scowled and told myself I couldn’t worry about them now.

  The space battle raged around me. The battleship I’d been on, where I’d worked so hard so we could capture it, continued to explode. The thing was breaking up. I’d failed to stop them from self-destruction.

  I was less than a flea on the battlefield, with no way of getting off unless I called the GEV for a lift.

  I looked around, trying to determine what I could do. The trouble was that despite the small battleground—the area between Earth and its Moon—naked eyesight wasn’t enough given the relatively smaller nature of spaceships.

  With a sigh, I brought myself a little more into phase. I used my helmet comm, but all I got was static. With all the beams flashing back and forth, I couldn’t get through with a small comm signal.

  For the moment, at least, I was stuck out here.

  If this lasted too long, I’d run out of oxygen.

  -57-

  I didn’t suffocate, but I had to wait as the battle entered its final phase. It took a strange turn, too, which helped to explain a few things about the Plutonians—or at least as to how they interpreted their present orders.

  The strangeness related to the last moves of the Plutonian vessels, a battleship and two of the cruiser-class raiders.

  They might have tried to press through and survive the massed assault of the remaining battlejumpers long enough to unload their hellish cargos onto the Earth’s surface. Our side had run out of PDD missiles, although the slugs surely didn’t know that. Instead, the enemy battleship attempted to shield the two cruisers as they used presser and tractor beams to collect all the undestroyed pieces of Plutonian hull armor into one general zone.

  During that time—as our massed laser beams dug into the last battleship’s hull—one of the cruisers self-detonated. That vaporized much of the collected debris, but flung a few pieces of hull armor and other assorted junk elsewhere.

  The last cruiser worked furiously, and one could almost say valiantly. But could one use the word valiant toward a suicide soldier or suicide ship?

  Before The Day, we’d had Muslim suicide bombers of assorted kinds. Some strapped TNT chest-vests or homemade pipe bombs to themselves and detonated among crowds of Muslim heretics or unbelievers. Some, of course, took over the infamous planes on 9/11 and crashed them into the Twin Towers of New York City. Others climbed into a truck and mowed over people walking on a sidewalk.

  The idea that any of those fanatics could be valiant would infuriate many people. Others believed that some of the suicide bombers had, at least, shown a perverted courage to die for what they believed in.

  That was the old question: was a man willing to die for his country or for his god, big or little G? We esteemed as heroes those who had sacrificed themselves on the field of battle. Why not esteem a suicide bomber as a hero?

  Because he’d murdered hordes of innocent people, many would argue. And maybe they’re right to say that. Hero might be the wrong word for a suicide bomber. Still, dying for what you believed in seemed like it might take some form of courage.

  I’ll tell you, though, I preferred George Patton’s old saying on the subject. “No dumb bastard ever won a war by going out and dying for his country. He won it by making some other dumb bastard die for his country.”

  In any case, the last Plutonian cruiser attempted to gather those pieces of debris. And when it did, the ship detonated, vaporizing the assembled junk with it so we could never study the composition of the pieces.

  At that point, the battleship did likewise—self-detonated—and the second Battle of Earth against the Plutonians was over. We’d won, even if we hadn’t gained all of our objectives.

  I could finally phase in and call for help from Ella. Without all the beams flashing, my call went through this time. She piloted the stealth ship to me, and I floated into a small locker hatch and into the GEV.

  “What happened?” Rollo asked, as I exited the locker and removed my helmet.

  What happened was that I slumped onto a steel bench, exhausted and depressed.

  “We waited for a call,” Rollo said. “Then the targeted battleship blew up. Why didn’t you try for another one?”

  I looked at him.

  “Oh,” he said. “Something bad happened?”

  “You think?”

  Rollo paused before saying, “They hit us hard.”

  I took the bait. “How hard?”

  “We lost twelve battlejumpers for sure. Luna Command is gone, the people and all the installations with it.”

  “Twelve battlejumpers for sure?” I asked.

  “Others were hit hard but didn’t blow. Some of those might not be worth much anymore. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  “That’s just great,” I muttered.

  “Ella thinks the Plutonians m
ight not have vaporized all their hull armor. Our scientists might get a look at it and see if they can duplicate it anytime soon.”

  “Good luck with that,” I said.

  “Otherwise, we got zippo. This was a huge bust, Creed.”

  I inhaled through my nostrils several times. I was exhausted. I’d been out of phase too long. That always disoriented a guy, and I knew as well as Rollo that we’d failed in our objectives.

  “I found a few things,” I finally said.

  “Anything interesting?”

  I told him about the Abaddon clones, the weird tunnel system in the battleship, the blips on the phase tracker—”

  “They have a phase tracker?” he asked.

  “Had,” I said. “It’s mine now.”

  “You don’t think they have more?”

  I removed the boxlike device from a waist pouch and examined it. “This strikes me as center galaxy tech, maybe even Fortress of Light tech. They may not have any more of these.”

  “That’s something, at least,” Rollo said.

  “But they have at least two phase suits of their own.”

  “What?”

  I told him about the bogeys I’d witnessed on the tracker.

  “Any idea who they were?” Rollo asked.

  I gave him my thoughts.

  “Huh,” he said.

  It was at that point I recalled the universal chip that I’d shoved into a Plutonian machine.

  I stood up and began marching for the hatch.

  “You were holding out on me, Creed,” Rollo said, trailing behind. “You found something interesting out there, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “It’s time to find out.”

  -58-

  Earth Force licked its wounds and honored its tens of thousands of brave men and women who had died in the battlejumpers and on the Moon.

  We didn’t fight the same way the Jelk Corporation had done. Our battlejumpers were primarily firing platforms instead of launch pads for masses of assault boats. The Jelk masters had used slaves and mercenaries by the millions, and their lizard-like Saurians as whip-drivers. The Jelks hadn’t cared if their soldiers died. We most definitely cared about our soldiers, and that made a huge difference as to the type of battles we chose to fight.