She glanced around the flight deck and realized Tyko was the last pilot from Third Wing still flying. There were just too many aliens for one pilot, though, and soon his screen was red. He climbed out and pushed his way through the crowd to grab her in a tight embrace.
“Now what?” He whispered in her ear, his sweaty cheek against hers. She mutely shook her head, sagging against him.
They stood that way for what seemed to Caviness to be a long time, with many other pilots milling around them. Tyko spoke to a few of them, asking if they had seen the support officers or heard anything from their squadrons or the Wing. No one knew more than to wait for further instructions.
Those instructions came a short time later in the form of an announcement broadcast to the entire station.
“All points, attention, this is the Air Group commander. All of our fighters have been destroyed. In a few minutes the station will come under attack by a large enemy force. We have limited self-defense capabilities that I don’t expect will stand up to the numbers we’re facing.”
There was a soft click as the comm channel cut out, then suddenly the commander was back, his voice softer. “Therefore, I am ordering the station be evacuated. There are survival pods located on every deck, and when I’m done you should head to them in an orderly fashion. The closest habitable planets have been uploaded to each pod’s guidance unit. I will not lie to you: we have no way of knowing if the, ah, if the enemy will fire on the pods, or not. But remaining on the station means certain death. Good luck to you all. It has been a pleasure to serve with you.”
Caviness barely heard the commander’s final words as bedlam erupted on the flight deck. Pilots began streaming toward the entrance hatch, heading to the escape pods lining the passageway outside. A knot of support officers suddenly appeared — evidently they had been waiting in the passageway, likely given advance notice of the impending evacuation order — but their shouted instructions to form up by squadron were barely audible over the hoarse voices of panicked pilots.
Tyko began shouting as well, calling the names of pilots from his squadron who were nearby. He frantically gestured to anyone looking his way, waving his arms to draw them closer. Without knowing what he was doing, Caviness joined in, calling out to get the attention of the pilots around them.
“Hey! Come over here! You! Yes, come here! Now. I need your help!” Tyko’s voice boomed and she felt him taking in deep breaths. “Hey! Over here! Now! Come over here!”
Most pilots ignored their cries but five, three boys and two girls, fought against the flow of people to form a small group around them.
Tyko nodded at them. “There are some officers who may need help evacuating. Come with me!”
He led them across the flight deck to the door to Pri-Fly. It was locked from the inside, but Tyko hammered on the metal door until it suddenly opened inward. He grabbed her arm and pulled her through the doorway as the others followed.
“Flight officer, what the hell are you doing? Get these people to the escape pods!” A woman with a prosthetic leg from the thigh down stood at a console near the door. Pri-Fly was dimly lit by several rows of consoles, but Caviness saw about a dozen faces turned toward them.
“Yes, ma’am! We were wondering if your folks needed an escort to the pods.” Tyko’s voice was calm, almost conversational.
The woman, who wore the silver flashes of a lieutenant, shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. We’re part of the station’s self-defense, we’ll be—” A man’s voice shouting from deeper in the compartment cut her off.
“Incoming! Fifteen fighters crossing into the defense zone. I have solutions on all of them.”
“Fire!”
“Missiles away!”
The lieutenant turned back to Tyko and the other pilots, her face twisted into a bitter smile. “The commander should have just given the evac order instead of being so pleased to serve with us. Wasted at least a minute.”
“Fourteen kills! Engaging the leaker!” Caviness searched for the man who fired the missiles, finding him in one corner. He had thick scars on one side of his face and a prosthetic arm. “A bigger wave crossing into the defense zone. Twenty, no … fifty. More just outside the zone, incoming.”
“Weapons free. Fire when you have high-probability solutions but try to hold a few back.”
“Aye, aye.”
“All self-defense stations reporting contacts,” called out a seated woman with one natural arm. “Large waves of fighters approaching the station from all directions!”
Caviness reached out and touched the lieutenant’s sleeve. “Ma’am? How many missiles are there?”
The woman shook her head. “Not enough by half. You people really need to get to the pods.”
Tyko nodded and turned to the other pilots. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Caviness felt a series of vibrations through the deck, followed immediately by a loud metallic tearing sound.
“Hull breach! Station integrity has been compromised!” More vibrations and screeching noises, with several thuds and then a sharp clicking sound coming from the Pri-Fly door behind them. “Automatic measures activated to seal breaches.”
One of the pilots tried the door handle. She turned to Tyko with a surprised look. “We’re locked in!”
“The flight deck outside that door is now open to space.” The lieutenant pulled Tyko’s arm with one hand while pointing to a metal staircase against the far bulkhead with the other. “There are two evac pods in our berthing. Take your people … anyone else who wants to go, can go. You’ve done what you can here.” She addressed the last two sentences to the officers at the consoles.
Tyko reached out to grab the frightened pilots by the door. “Help them get to the pods!” He shoved them at the control officers, many of whom were struggling to attach artificial limbs taken off for comfort during what they expected would be a long but unexceptional shift.
More screeching noises echoed and the compartment vibrated and shook as the young pilots and officers hurried up the stairs. In seconds, Pri-Fly was empty except for the lieutenant, Tyko, Caviness and the officer manning the missile console.
“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” Tyko looked at the lieutenant.
“No, Janewicz still has a few missiles left. We’ll try to keep them interested in us, hopefully they’re letting the pods go.” Her face creased into a mirthless smile, and Caviness thought she looked exhausted. “Thank you for coming in, helping my people. I’d put you in for a medal or something, but … well. Get going and good luck to you both.”
Tyko nodded but the officer had already turned away. He and Caviness looked at Janewicz and she saw fear in the man’s scarred face as the compartment began to shake again, more violently than just moments before. There was a shriek of rending metal and Tyko suddenly lunged forward and grabbed the lieutenant around the waist, lifting her up and over one shoulder.
“Help him!” He carried the squirming and shouting lieutenant to the stairs and began climbing.
She ran to the console where Janewicz was struggling to get up with his one good hand. Her heart began to sink as she noticed for the first time his prosthetic legs. “Can you walk? We need to move, now!”
Janewicz’s artificial feet found purchase on the deck and he let out a guttural shout before shoving Caviness toward the stairs. “Go! Or I’ll run you over and leave you behind!”
Reaching the next deck up, she turned to help him and side-by-side they ran down a short passageway lined by doors. Ahead of them, Tyko shrugged the now-quiet Lieutenant off his shoulder and pushed her through a round hatch. He turned to Caviness and Janewicz, waving his arm and yelling but she couldn’t make out what he said over the noise of the station breaking apart.
The first pod launched as Tyko followed Caviness through the airlock to the second pod. They tumbled into seats and strapped in, with Caviness next to the quietly crying lieutenant; whether the officer was happy or sad was something she couldn’t
tell. Then a voice from the front yelled for everyone to hold on.
The pod detached from the station with a jolt, floating free for a moment before the drive system engaged.
Caviness looked down and saw her hand entwined with Tyko’s, although she didn’t remember doing it. Feeling more tired than she ever had, she glanced at the chronometer on her wrist and saw less than ten minutes had passed since she climbed from her control unit. Leaning back, she looked at Tyko. His unfocused eyes stared across the pod and when she gave his hand a squeeze, he started and turned to her.
She searched his face for a moment, then mouthed “I love you.”
It was the first time she said the words to him, but Tyko didn’t see it. He had turned his head and was staring blankly at the bulkhead.
What Happens
Sergeant Siengha sat with her back against the Ops Center bulkhead, slowly chewing a bite from the ration bar held loosely in one dirty hand. She gave no indication of hearing the drumbeat of Vyp cannon fire raining down on Operating Post Tango-5. The non-stop concussive blast waves made everything in the outpost shake and pitch: equipment, people and structures jumped, swayed and wiggled as if nudged by ghosts.
Day 11, same as Day 10, same as 9, she thought. Right down the line.
She sensed someone standing over her and glanced up to see Captain Oshiro. “East wall’s down to a squad and a half,” she said as a greeting after he pulled off his helmet. “North’s not much better.”
The outpost walls were standard armored pre-fab, with built-in ports for a pair of remote-operated heavy weapons that traversed on rails. At the base of the walls were bunkers for the soldiers operating the weapons and those standing by to repel attackers. Because the outpost backed up to a steep ravine the south wall was basically undefended outwards — Vyps weren’t great climbers — but it still factored into the post’s defense as a last-stand fallback position.
Three buildings were inside the walled perimeter — armory, Ops Center, and barracks/mess, from smallest to largest — sunk into holes blasted in the rocky ground until just a couple feet of bulkhead and armored rooftops were visible. Between the armory and south wall was a landing pad large enough for two transports; an armored enclosure on the pad was used to store drones.
Months earlier, when New Earth’s forces were on the march in this part of Neptec-2, Expeditionary Corps engineers put up the outpost in a little more than twelve hours. Oshiro was the commander of the engineering unit and had been left in command of the small garrison force after the brigade marched out in search of the Vyps — a mission ending with the ambush at the Towers.
The captain nodded tiredly as he slid down next to Siengha. His helmet hit the deck with a dull thud. “Can we pull some from the west side?”
“Already in motion. Sent the drone jockeys out, too. Last drone went toes up.” She offered him what was left of the ration bar. “You should eat something, sir.”
“Good … and good call on the drone team.” He took the bar and bit off half of what was left. “Why aren’t you an officer, Siengha? Been meaning to ask.”
“They tried, couple times. Turned it down.”
That brought a smile to the captain’s face. “Bet Command loved that.”
“They got over it.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t need it.”
“What?”
“The glamour.”
Oshiro barked sudden laughter, spitting crumbs from his mouth. When he quieted, Siengha continued, staring straight ahead. “I’m better where I am.”
The captain nodded. “I’m glad you’re here, sergeant, but I think before this is over you’ll wish you were on the other side of the galaxy.”
She said nothing in reply, having long ago realized there was no point wasting time or effort wishing for something different than what was currently happening. No matter how bad the situation, Siengha knew her best chance of surviving, and by extension the best hope for everyone else around her, was to remain focused on the task at hand.
Oshiro sighed and popped the rest of the ration bar into his mouth. After swallowing, he pulled a datapad from his carrypack and tapped the screen. “I make it ten days before we run out of those, have to start eating our belts.”
Siengha nodded slowly. “Perimeter turrets will run out of shells long before that.”
The captain sighed again. “Yeah. How did we get into this mess again?”
The sergeant studied Oshiro out of the corner of her eye. She’d been impressed with the engineering officer’s calm demeanor and willingness to let her take the lead on tactical matters, but she wondered if he was beginning to truly comprehend how bad the situation was.
Retreating from the Towers battle, Siengha and what was left of her platoon linked up other survivors at a rally point about two days march from the outpost. Promised air support was absent — untold masses of aliens were attacking everywhere on Neptec-2 — and Vyp drones immediately spotted the concentration of humans. Cannon and missile fire raked the survivors at the rally point and nearly every step along the way to the relative safety of OP Tango-5.
The fire was so thick Siengha assumed the only time the column wasn’t being hit was when the Vyps were reloading.
The senior officer, a major from brigade staff, and two captains were killed the morning of the second day by a missile explosion, leaving three fairly green lieutenants and a handful of non-commissioned officers to lead fifty-eight soldiers through the outpost main gate.
Fifty-eight out of the five hundred who marched to the Towers.
Once inside the outpost, they learned the status of New Earth forces was critical across the planet and above it. Communication with other units was intermittent as the Vyps hammered through defensive lines and destroyed whole formations. More troubling, Oshiro reported having lost contact with the fleet of logistics and command ships in orbit about the same time the brigade was attacked at the Towers.
The third day after Siengha returned to the outpost they received a redirected message from Expeditionary Corps Command on Neptec-1 informing all subordinate units the Vyptellian offensive was galaxy-wide, not just limited to their system. All units were directed to defend their positions as a counterattack was being organized to regain lost territory.
Listening to the broadcast in the Ops Center with the outpost’s few officers and non-coms, volume turned up because of cannon and missile explosions, Siengha saw worried and disbelieving looks exchanged all around. It was then that she suggested constructing the south wall redoubt, partly as a way to keep people busy but also because the need for a last stand position seemed a foregone conclusion.
The south wall defense turrets were turned to face inward, a field modification requiring a lot of improvisation by Oshiro and his engineers. At the same time, an escape hatch was cut to allow access to the narrow strip of level ground between the outer wall and the edge of the ravine. Ropes were attached to the wall face and left coiled, ready to be kicked over the side — rappelling to the floor of the ravine represented the final option for any survivors.
All the while Vyp drones circled overhead, directing cannon and missile fire down onto the post. The outpost’s anti-air weapons knocked many down, but the aliens had plenty to spare and one by one the air defense launchers were targeted and taken out.
Armor in the walls, buildings, bunkers and their own suits kept the soldiers safe enough, in theory. But after days of continuous bombardment their nerves were rattled and judgment clouded. The slightest mistake — an unsecured hatch or viewport, zigging instead of zagging on open ground, not buttoning up after hygiene or food breaks — resulted in catastrophe.
Casualties steadily mounted and the post’s leadership was especially hard hit: two lieutenants were killed within hours of each other while checking perimeter positions on the sixth day. A day later a salvo of missiles exploding above the landing pad made Siengha the senior sergeant.
Oshiro wanted her to remain in the Ops Center with him, but she wouldn’t hea
r of it. The soldiers on the perimeter and the quick reaction force standing by in the armory needed more than hourly net checks; left isolated their already battered spirits could turn to panic. So she spent much of the day moving around the post, varying routes to spend as little time in the open as possible while visiting the two soldiers guarding the south wall redoubt, the squads stationed in the other three walls, and the quick reaction team.
She listened to their complaints, got them what they needed if she could, and above all tried to bolster their courage. Wherever she went the soldiers wanted to know the same thing: When will the Vyps attack?
Siengha didn’t have answer for them. She had a few ideas, though.
The outpost was completely cut off and now far behind the leading edge of the alien advance, so it was possible the Vyps planned to reduce the outpost’s defenders through cannon and missile fire before assaulting. Or, perhaps the aliens intended on starving them out, knowing any type of relief operation was unlikely as the New Earth forces on planet were in disarray.
Such tactics would make sense from a human commander seeking to minimize casualties, but the Vyps had never displayed such concerns in the past. Then again, the aliens had never mounted a galaxy-wide attack before.
“Capt’n! Sergeant! West wall sensors show movement.” The corporal on comms duty at the tactical display swiveled around to face them. “North wall now also has movement. Danger close for both.”
Siengha and Oshiro scrambled to their feet, pulling their helmets on at the same time. Lowering the faceshield, she switched her comm to the perimeter net and her earpiece relayed a babble of excited voices; without drone surveillance the Vyps were able to get within yards of the wall before sensors detected them.
“All stations, Papa Sierra! Quiet on the net,” she commanded. “Keep reports short and understandable. Calm down.”
She stood next to Oshiro at the tactical display, watching as two sets of red triangles drew closer to the green lines representing the north and west walls. Moments later the ripping sound of the automatic turrets firing joined the noise of exploding cannon shells.
Green Zulu Five One: And Other Stories From the Vyptellian War Page 12
