by Tim Marquitz
Mara chuckled. “Guess the same could be said to you.”
Lyana grinned. “Have to make the best of the worst situations, right?”
Crate sigh. “And here I am feeling decidedly unsexy. Thanks.” He offered a sly grin, making a show of putting his pants on, covering the stripes on his legs. The women laughed, and Albion just shook his head.
A few minutes, and a few furtive glances later, the crew was geared up and ready to go again. The only problem with that was that Albion had no clue what to do.
“…bugs are outside,” Choi’s voice rang through the comms as Albion slid his helmet on.
“Repeat that,” he told the helmsman.
“All clear,” he said. “Your location seems to be empty of aliens, but the bugs are still outside. There’s a contingent that is camped on the other side of the door. Fifty of them, or so. The rest returned to the landing field location, and I stopped scanning, just in case.”
“They’re blocking the exit,” Lyana said, growling. “Just lovely.”
“Yeah, there’s no way we’re getting through that, especially not with our wounded,” Crate said, drawing Albion’s attention to Genys and reminding him of Randall.
Still mostly naked, Mara and Lyana having offered up their underwear to cover the woman, Genys was pale and still unconscious, not that she’d wake up anytime soon. The line of the incision drawn by the med bot stood out pink against her ivory skin, but it looked healthy. She stared into space, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. The two women had propped her against one of the stasis chambers.
“Go check on Randal,” Albion told Crate. “Carefully.”
Crate saluted and circled around the dividing wall in a crouch.
“What now?” Lyana asked.
“I’m thinking.”
She sighed. “We are so screwed.”
“Randall’s stable,” Crate said through the comms. “No worse than before, but he’s not getting better. The med bot has him dosed with painkillers so he’s not feeling any of this, but we need to get him to a real doctor soon.”
Albion stood there a moment, staring off at the ceiling and letting his eyes trail the rails of the mag-hooks. Stasis tubes were hauled over the wall and dropped down beside the med bot butchers, the people inside ready to be operated on. Albion knew it was only a matter of time until Mara spotted someone else she knew and they’d be right back where they were a few minutes ago, naked and shivering, waiting to die. He couldn’t let that happen, but he had no idea as to what to do.
He watched another person be operated on, wincing at the operation and wondering what the hell the aliens were doing, when a thought struck him. “Hey, Crate!”
“Sir?”
“Two things. First, can Randall’s stasis chamber be moved and maintain its integrity?”
There was a moment of silence as, Albion assumed, Crate examined the tube to answer his question. The engineer came back a moment later.
“Yes. It will need an energy source to keep it working, but one of the extra plas-stones we have onboard the Excalibur would be perfect for the job. Were we to disconnect his tube, we’d have maybe an hour before he was at risk of deteriorating from it, but it’d be long enough to get him hooked back up,” he said. “So, what’s the next question?”
“What you did to the med bot, can you replicate that?”
“You mean adjust its priorities to get it to only work with Randall?”
“Sort of, yeah.” The crew stared at Albion, clearly wondering what he was up to. He’d tell them, but even he wasn’t sure.
“Have to be more specific than that, Captain.”
“I know,” he answered. “Thinking. Give me a second.”
“That explains the fog on his visor,” Lyana said with a laugh.
Albion ignored her, taking in the layout of the warehouse. “Can you adjust the programming of the med bots, make them do something besides maintain the stasis chambers?”
“Depends on what them to do, Captain, but I think I know what you’re getting at. It’ll require me making a small virus of sorts to get them all at once rather than one at a time. I’ll need Ares for that.”
“Then do what you have to,” Albion ordered. It was only a matter of time until the bugs came back, either to look again or deliver another herd of humans. Either way, the clock was ticking. “And, Crate…?”
“Yeah?”
“Hurry.”
#
It took Crate an hour to do what Albion had asked of him, and every second was an agony of worry, the crew never knowing when the bugs would return. The entire time, the operations continued at their backs, and Albion had to keep Mara busy to stop her from blasting another bot and throwing his plan into disarray. Not that the plan was worth much, but it was all they had.
He knew she meant well, and even Albion wanted to stop the constant assembly line of surgery being performed on the unwitting passengers of all the captured ships, but anything they did would bring the aliens down on their heads. With something like a hundred of them answering the claxon the first time around, that only meant death for him and the crew. There was no way they could take that many of the bugs out. Not without help.
“Ready to go, Captain,” Crate said, coming over to stand alongside Albion and the rest of the crew, who hovered near their recent stasis chamber hideout. Ares stood nearby, stoic as ever.
“You sure this is going to work?” Mara asked.
“Am I sure?” He shrugged. “No, not really.”
“The concept is solid,” Crate said, offering Albion support. “Just a question as to whether the bugs have the means to counter what I did.”
“What are the odds of that?” Lyana asked.
“Now, don’t go bringing odds into this,” Albion said, cutting off Crate before he could answer. “No one wants to know the odds, and that’s an order. Clear?”
Lyana grunted, and Crate just grinned.
“Unless you have a better idea, Commander, this is what’s happening.” Albion crossed his arms over his chest and stared Lyana down. She stood her ground for a moment before conceding with a nod.
“What have we got to lose?”
“Our lives, for starters,” Crate answered.
“Rhetorical question, asshole,” she fired back, sneering at him. “At least we don’t have to get naked this time around.”
Crate chuckled.
“Stow it, guys,” he said. “We need to do this. The longer we wait, the more people have…” he gestured to the med bots performing their surgical duties, “that, whatever that is, done to them, and the more we risk another crew of Xebedon arriving with more hostages.” He glanced over at Crate. “You sure you can bring these people out of stasis quickly?”
“Already told you twice I could, Captain,” he answered, a raised eyebrow marking his annoyance with the question.
“Just need to be sure.” He looked over at Mara and Lyana. Behind them, Genys stood in a functional stasis tube that Ares had brought over. While they’d planned to wake all the captives soon enough, Albion figured it best to keep the woman under sedation until they were ready to move out.
“Everyone ready?”
The crew offered up hesitant nods, all three clasping to their rifles. He nodded in reply and moved to stand before the row of broken stasis tubes.
“Our friends still outside, Choi?”
“Crawling about like…bugs, sir,” the helmsman answered, and Albion could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “Sorry about the pun.”
“Not as much as we are,” Lyana told him.
Albion raised a hand to keep her from saying anything more. “Okay, we’re going to do this. On my order, Choi, I want you parked just outside the door, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “You know, I could just go there now and turn the cannons on the bugs out there.”
“And then we have the ships floating outside the land gate swooping down to blow you and the rest of us to dust,” Albion answered. “I’d ra
ther we keep this low key. Well, lower key, at least. Our last experiment showed the rest of the bugs will sit tight if there’s only a little drama down here. Can’t see them doing so if you start warming up their buddies with the cannons.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now keep us informed of what’s coming our way,” he said. “Looks like we’re doing this.”
“See you soon.”
Albion nodded despite knowing the helmsman couldn’t see it. He turned to look at the rest of the crew standing beside him. “Last chance to back down and try something else.”
They all shook their heads.
“Then I guess we’re committed.” He tapped Ares on the shoulder. Take your place.”
The robot shifted forward, taking up position before the crew, the bot facing out toward the dividing wall, weapons at the ready.
“I hope this works,” Albion said.
“Me too,” Crate replied.
Albion sighed and gestured to Mara. “Do your thing.”
She grinned and raised her rifle, sighting the nearest mag-hook as it hung in place, attached to a stasis chamber. She pulled the trigger and blasted the hook into pieces, shards of metal showering the floor around the med bot. Once more, the claxons rang out, bathing the room in a crimson glow.
“It’s show time,” Lyana muttered, dropping to her knee, weapon aimed beyond Ares. Mara and Albion did the same, making themselves as small a target as possible.
“They’re on their way,” Choi called out. “Bugs outside the door are waiting on the others, it looks like.” The comms went silent for a moment as everyone held their breath. “And joined. Doors open, Captain, and they’re coming in, ready or not. Can still take them out if I need to.”
“Hold steady, Choi. We’ve got this,” Albion answered, but he really wasn’t sure they did. He’d fought the bugs before, close up and personal, but he’d never stood his ground against a hundred of them. If his plan fell apart, he and his crew were looking at a very messy death. Regardless of the outcome, though, there was no turning back.
“Now would be a good time, Ares,” Albion called out to the bot, who went about executing his previously discussed order.
“Closing,” Choi reported. “In three, two…”
The aliens spilled past the divider, pouring into the surgical theater at speed, weapons raised, only to skitter to a halt as a row of med bots clatter and clanked and formed a wall between the crew of the Excalibur and the bugs.
“That’s got their attention,” Crate mused over the channel.
The bugs chittered among themselves looking, for the only time Albion had ever seen, confused. They stared at the med bots, probing them with their limbs as if unsure of what to do.
Albion, certain they’d soon figure something out, took advantage of their pause. “Now, Ares!” he called out.
The battle bot acknowledged the order and sent one of his own, the med bots receiving it on a channel only they could hear. Without any hesitation, the row of med bots shot forward and crashed into the bugs, mechanical limbs flailing, surgical tools slashing. Greenish blood erupted as the bots cleaved into the bug ranks, hacking and slashing and ripping apart anything they could grab.
The aliens, for their part, skreeed as one and fought back. And, as always, they were brutal and efficient.
The first row of robots, either buried neck deep in aliens, or destroyed, fell apart within seconds, and bugs advanced with chittered threats. Albion raised his rifle and fired, blasting holes in several of the bugs as they charged. Mara and Lyana did the same, the steady pulse of gunfire tearing through the aliens.
Ares held his ground and took out the ones the crew missed. His mechanical arms cleaved through the bugs, saws and laz-blades severing limbs and leaving aliens in pieces, scattered across the floor. Still, the bugs kept coming. A dozen broke through the line, racing forward as the crew did their best to repel them.
“This isn’t working,” Lyana said, squeezing the words through clenched teeth.
Albion said nothing, firing without stopping at the aliens coming toward them, limbs flailing, seeking blood. He dropped another of the bugs and stumbled backward, lurching to his feet as Ares cleaved one in half just before it reached him. Mara and Lyana were driven back a step, too, guns steaming as they fired time and time again to keep the Xebedon from overrunning their position.
Then, just when it seemed hopeless, a surge of med bots crashed through the bug ranks and clattered forward, having cut their way through the aliens from behind. Ever the warriors, the bugs turned to meet the advancing med bots, likely believing them to be the greater threat.
Albion grinned. While the bugs weren’t wrong, he and the remains of his crew little more than gnats buzzing a star destroyer, turning their backs on them was a mistake. One Albion was happy to make them pay for.
Caught between the med bots turned battle bots—though it was their number that made them effective—the last of the bugs went down in a squeeing heap, hacked apart or blasted full of smoking holes. A few moments later, there was nothing left of the alien force, all the bugs dead. Their bodies littered the floor, greenish-yellow goo ankle deep in places.
Crate stood in the carnage, kicking up a froth in the alien blood and examining the mess up close. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”
“We only almost died,” Lyana said. “So, yeah, not bad. Same as always.”
“You did not almost die,” Albion corrected. “I almost died. You almost got splattered with my blood.”
“I stand corrected.” She shook her head and kicked a bug limb aside that still twitched. “What do we do now?”
Albion raised a finger, delaying answering her question. “Choi!”
“Here, sir.”
“How’s it looking?”
“Clear for now, sir.”
“Keep us informed, Choi,” he said, turning to Lyana. “Now we start waking people up.”
Seventeen
Dev-ji 482
Once Crate reprogrammed the med bots to go back to their original jobs, Albion had him plug them into the Excalibur’s computer in order to search the ten thousand faces and pull up the captains registered to the ships outside that way they could awaken them first. Finding the rest of the crews would be a nightmare, Albion knew, but he figured he’d worry about that once he had the captains up and about. That alone took hours, and Albion cringed every time Choi’s voice came over the comms. He expected bad news each time yet, to his continued surprise, no more Xebedons appeared.
Albion stood before a crowd of bleary-eyed officers, the haze of stasis still casting a web of weariness of over them. It didn’t mix well with the fear and uncertainty, the air thick with confusion. It probably didn’t help that they were all naked, none of their clothes or equipment anywhere to be found in the compound.
“Captains, please,” Albion called out, trying to settle them before the furor brought more of the aliens down on their heads. He’d had Crate leave a number of med bots near the entryway just in case, but he’d also thought to have a dozen or two nearby to help herd the captains should that be needed. “We haven’t much time so, please, I need your attention.” Albion raised his hands and a hesitant hush fell over the gathered officers.
“Who are you?” a gruff, older man asked, pushing to the front of the crowd. “Are you with Covenant?” Albion recognized him as the captain of the Bolton, Maltus Zane.
“No, but I am here at their behest. We—”
“If you’re working for Command, then why is it just you?” he asked, motioning to the crew of the Excalibur. “We were captured by Xebedons. There should be an army here, destroying these bastard bugs.”
“I agree, Captain, but we’re all there is.”
A murmur rose in the crowd, voices rumbling in frustration and dissent, dozens of men and women used to being in charge doing their damndest to do just that.
“Quiet!” Amplified by the legion of med bots, Crate’s voice cut through the crowd,
silencing even the most ardent of agitators.
Albion offered a nod of thanks and turned his steely glare on the gathered captains. “We didn’t wake you from stasis so you could whip out your pedigrees and argue over who has seniority,” Albion said, emphasizing his words with a growl. “We woke you up to get you ready.”
“To do what exactly?” Zane asked, coming to stand directly before Albion.
“To find your crew and load your passengers.”
“And then what, Captain?”
“Then we get the hell out of here.”
Another murmur erupted, only to be silenced by another of the captains, her voice scything through the noise. “Are you insane? The bugs have an armada stationed just outside of the land gate. I saw them when we were towed through,” she said. “You expect a bunch of civilian ships without defensive shields or weapons to stroll through the gate right into their arms?”
Albion sighed. “It’s hardly an armada, Captain, but we’ve little choice here. The plan is for me and my crew to go first and to distract and destroy as many of the enemy ships as possible, minimizing the risk to you and yours as you leave behind us.”
“So, we’re just supposed to trust that you can take out the aliens?” someone asked from the crowd. Once more the room burst into sound, complaining and arguing voices echoing through the chamber.
“Why don’t you call the fleet?” someone asked, mutters of agreement reinforcing the question. “Have them come to us.”
Albion shook his head. “I would love to,” he said, “but there are two reasons why that’s not going to happen. The first is, the planet is shielded and there’s no way to get a message out without exiting the land gate.”
“Then do that,” the woman said, stepping forward so Albion could identify her. Captain Aletha Jayde of the Argent. “You already said you plan to lead the charge, as it were. Why not just exit the gate and start broadcasting?”
“I could that,” he answered, a liver of a grin lighting across his lips. “And if the bugs didn’t block the signal, and Command actually received it and decided it was action worthy, then what?” He raised a hand to silence the rush of questions. “Me and my crew are here alone for a reason, people. And that’s because Command wants to keep it silent that there’s a bug invasion and, to be completely honest, they don’t really believe that the Xebedons have infiltrated this far into allied space. Besides…” Albion let his gaze drift from captain to captain, calling for their attention, “what do you think will happen if I confirm there’s an alien infestation on this abandoned, remote planet?”
