Trapped

by Scott Bartlett

  “Tell them to hold their positions. We’re coming to them.”

  Long spoke again, his tone incredulous. “Captain…Commander Fesky is hailing us.”

  Husher spun like someone had jerked him by the shoulder. “From inside the ship?”

  “No, sir, she’s with the air group.”

  How the hell? “Put her through.”

  “We’re forming an inverted wedge out here,” Fesky said without preamble. “It’ll buy you time and give us a solid formation to absorb contact. I’ve forwarded you our course.”

  “I have it,” Long said. “Forwarding to Nav and Helm.”

  Husher had a thousand questions for Fesky, but he kept them back.

  I have to trust her. The time had come.

  “Do it,” he said.

  The Relentless roared forward, point defenses coming to life as Pseudopods poured toward the destroyer.

  As Fesky predicted, the fighter formation funneled the enemy fliers into firing lanes that the Pythons were able to capitalize on with brutal accuracy. They destroyed at least a dozen bogeys for every fighter that took damage.

  But even that was too little to stop the onslaught.

  “Sir, I’m detecting breaches,” Winterton said.

  Husher gritted his teeth. “Long, alert the crew. With the marines on that asteroid, everyone off-duty will need to use their sidearms to confront the intruders.”

  Shota was looked at him in disbelief, but this time he said nothing.

  For a moment, Husher wished Iver had left even one troop ship behind, to reinforce his crew, but he pushed the thought aside. It was pointless to think about that now.

  This is it, Husher thought as the Relentless rocked from an impact. Our last legs. If Gamble can’t take out the hive mind in the next few minutes, we’re done.

  “Two of the aft railguns were detonated by enemy impacts,” Winterton said. “A third on that side is incapacitated. We have more hull breaches.”

  “Understood. Where are we on those missile strikes?”

  “Impacting now, sir.”

  “Show me.”

  The tactical display was quickly overlaid with the impacts as sensor data poured in. The lead Stomach took the brunt of the blows, its organic hull blown wide open. The next two took enough damage to incapacitate them.

  Three down, Husher thought. Fifteen to go.

  “We’re out of missiles,” Tremaine said. “But they’ll be in range of our particle beam soon.”

  “Very well. You know what to do, once we’re in range. Helm, plot a course that gives Tactical as many firing lanes as possible. Those Stomachs are highly susceptible to our particle beam.”

  “Sir,” Winterton said. “We have an Engineering breach. Enemy combatants are inside Engineering.”

  There was stunned silence on the bridge.

  “I see,” Husher said at last, fighting to keep his voice steady for his CIC crew. “Prepare to call general evacuation.”

  He didn’t know what the Brood ships would make of their escape pods, but at least some of his crew should last long enough for Iver and the Scion to arrive.

  He prayed that they would.

  Chapter 57

  Relentless Marine Company

  Asteroid in Scion space

  “Go, go, go!” Gamble screamed over the platoon-wide, sprinting forward.

  There was nowhere to hide here. The only thing they could do was press the issue. If they allowed themselves to get bogged down in the center of the cavern, they’d never make it to the hive mind.

  “We have to get to the target and set those charges. Hit them with everything you have!”

  What remained of the Relentless’ marine company directed their fire at the Wayfarers blocking them from reaching the alien overlord. Bright threads of weapon fire bit into the enemy ranks. Rockets streamed forward, trailing smoke. And grenades arced slowly through the cavern.

  “Watch where you’re aiming those grenades,” Gamble snapped. “Go long with them. In this gravity, there’s a risk we’ll catch up to them before they come down.”

  His R-57 bucked as he fired into the oncoming wave of aliens, rounds eating into one alien’s chest before ruining the face of the next. He cursed as his fire went wild, over his target’s heads.

  “Fire low, and aim to take out multiple targets with each burst!” Gamble meant that for himself as much as his men.

  “Get some!” he heard Davis scream as he ran alongside Gamble, firing into the alien horde.

  “Easy,” Gamble said. “Short bursts!” Gamble fired off a controlled burst of his own assault rifle, holding down the trigger for a two-count before releasing.

  Davis either didn't hear Gamble or didn't care. He fired off another long stream of rounds. His aim went wild, sending his muzzle skyward, and messing up his next shot. “Shit,” he shouted. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “They’re catching up from behind us,” Tate said.

  Gamble glanced over his shoulder. “Form a rear guard! Marines at the back, turn and keep them at bay!”

  “Watch out!” shouted Tate from behind Gamble, and he turned in time to see that one of the creatures had gotten dangerously close. A thread of weapons fire sliced through the space right in front of Gamble’s face, lighting up the inside of his helmet.

  The creature that had been reaching for him with its claws jerked sideways, its face a ruin. In its death throes, one of its claws still found Gamble’s leg, slicing through the pressure suit there. His HUD flashed red, then green again: the tear must have been minuscule, since it took less than a second for the suit to seal itself.

  That was close.

  He risked a glance back at Tate and nodded a thanks. Beyond the private, Gamble could see his marines were fanning out and slowing. Several of them had already fallen, their pressure suits too compromised for the self-sealing mechanism to address.

  “Keep pushing!” Gamble yelled. He, Tate, Davis, and Tammery charged forward. The wall of creatures was closing in on them, and if the marines providing covering fire from behind them slowed, they were going to get bogged down, no matter how many of the creatures they were able to kill.

  “There are too many,” shouted Davis. Even as he said it, he popped two Wayfarers in quick succession. But four more rushed in to take their place.

  “Rookie,” shouted Tate from behind him, expertly firing a single burst from his weapon, taking down one target before switching to the next. “Don’t lean on the damn trigger.”

  “Is now really the time for a training session?” Tammery asked from behind him. The big man was winded and struggling. He was holding a backpack full of charges—the only one with charges anywhere near Gamble, according to his HUD.

  They were less than fifty feet from the target. “We’re almost there,” Gamble said.

  A Wayfarer made it past, belching acid at Tammery. It happened so suddenly, Gamble experienced a sharp moment of disbelief, like his brain couldn’t accept what had happened.

  The acid splashed full across Tammery’s helmet, dissolving it, and eating clean through in several places.

  But Tammery didn’t stop, instead continuing to charge forward, his helmet melting and deforming.

  What the—?

  The air had to be sucked out of Tammery’s helmet by now. His eyeballs were probably bleeding with the depressurization, and some of the acid must have made it to his skull.

  Still, he stumbled forward.

  “Shit!” Davis yelled. “The charges!”

  With that, Gamble realized what Tammery was doing. He had no idea how the private still had the presence of mind to do it, but he’d slipped the backpack off his shoulder, and was carrying it held out before him. It was already covered in acid.

  Gamble had no idea what the acid would do to the charges. In theory, until they were armed, they were dead and wouldn’t go off.

  In theory.

  But that theory hadn’t been tested against alien acid spray from another universe.

>   A Wayfarer came at him, and acting on pure instinct, Gamble twitched his R-57 sideways and fired full in its face. The creature staggered back, then caught itself, seeming to recover. It came at him again, splitting vertically to fire its acid.

  Gamble put another burst right down its opening throat. The back of the creature’s neck burst open, the rounds zipping through to send a second Wayfarer reeling backward.

  Gamble spun back around as Tammery’s body finally gave out. The top of his head was visible now through the melted helmet, and he wove drunkenly across the cavern floor. At last, he stumbled around till he faced Gamble.

  Through what remained of Tammery’s faceplate, Gamble saw the man’s face was a half-eaten mess. Even so, Tammery found the strength to swing the backpack of charges forward. Numbly, Gamble caught it. With that, the private keeled forward, face-first onto the rock.

  Gamble grabbed the pack and pulled out his combat knife. The acid was almost through the backpack’s thick fabric, and would soon start consuming the charges themselves.

  He ripped the knife through the bottom of the bag and jerked it toward himself. The bag split open, and the small ball-shaped charges tumbled out.

  He dumped out his own utility pouch, which was wrapped around the side of his combat suit, and stuffed five of the charges inside. The charges were thermonuclear. Five would probably be enough to cave in this place. But he needed to be sure.

  A creature snarled in his face before having its face blown off. Gamble looked to his right to see Tate holding a combat shotgun. Where he’d gotten in, and what had happened to his R-57, Gamble couldn’t say.

  Tate wore a stupid grin from having saved his commander, but there was no time for that.

  “Go!” Gamble ordered, running forward again. “Cover Davis!”

  Davis had gotten cut off from them, having charged too far ahead of the other marines. Or rather, Tate should have been up there with him, but it was hard to fault the kid, considering he’d just saved Gamble’s life. And potentially the mission.

  Tate turned to fire almost at the same moment that Gamble did. Together, they managed to clear Davis’ position as they caught up with him.

  “Thanks for joining me!” Davis said, his voice dripping sarcasm.

  “We’re doing better than the rest of those lazy asses!” shouted Tate, as he hooked his thumb over his shoulder.

  Gambled glanced back and saw what he was talking about. The rest of the marine teams were pinned down. The number of creatures in the underground cavern was now impossible to estimate. The entire place was a roiling sea of creatures, some of them practically crawling on top of each other in their haste to get at the marines.

  Most of his men had taken up a circular position, holding off the closing horde, but unable to move forward any longer.

  “They won’t last long like that,” Davis said.

  “They’ll hang in there!” Gamble shouted, and he knew it was true. His marines would fight until their last breath. “They’re drawing the aliens to them. This is our chance.”

  The fighting in the cavern’s center was drawing most of the Wayfarers. Gamble, Davis, and Tate were practically an afterthought by comparison.

  Gamble turned to look at the pulsating hive mind, just ahead of them.

  “It’s now or never,” he shouted. The three of them surged forward.

  Chapter 58

  Relentless Marine Company

  Asteroid in Scion space

  “You have the charges?” Tate asked.

  He’d been too far forward to see what had happened with Tammery. Gamble would never forget that man’s last stand—if he survived today, that was.

  “Tammery gave them to me,” he said.

  “Where do we plant them?”

  “Just get close enough to throw them at the thing. Then we need to get out of here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m planning on setting enough charges to blow this place to hell. We’re not taking any chances.” With that, he switched to a company-wide channel. “Fall back as you’re able, marines. Me, Tate, and Davis will take it from here. Use your drag-behinds to get over their heads, if you need to. Just get out. This place won’t be here for long.”

  He pulled open his utility pack. With a practiced flick of his hand, he armed each one, connecting them to each other wirelessly and setting the digitized fuse to sixty seconds.

  “Major!” shouted Davis.

  Gamble jerked his head up. They were less than a dozen feet from the target. The bulbous hive mind had suddenly started to shake wildly, its moist skin shimmering with the light of reflected weapons fire.

  A crease formed along the side closest to them. Like a muscle spasming, the crease split open, spraying acid.

  Gamble threw himself aside, grabbing Davis as he did. The acidic bile splashed onto the cavern floor where they’d been standing, eating at the rock.

  As Gamble landed, he felt a pain like fire burning in his arm. One of the Wayfarers had rushed him, slicing through his suit with its claw.

  He took out his attacker with a burst of point-blank rounds, right down the thing’s opening throat.

  Then he shook himself, ignoring the red lights flashing on his HUD, warning him his suit had lost some pressure before it had been able to seal itself again. He had bigger problems at the moment.

  When the hive mind had opened to spit its acid, he’d realized how thick its carapace was. It was too risky to trust the charges to blast it apart. He had to be one hundred percent sure he would kill the thing. Otherwise, they were all doomed.

  And there were only forty-four seconds left on the timer.

  As the other marines were falling back toward the cavern entrance, the Wayfarers seemed to realize at last what Gamble, Davis, and Tate were up to. They were all surging forward toward their position.

  Gamble let his R-57 fall to his waist, where it bounced at the end of its strap. With that, he took out four charges, two in each hand.

  It’s time.

  “We’ll never get close to the hive mind, with the thing spitting acid at us!” Tate shouted. “Just toss the charges at it, Major!” Even as he spoke, the private took out a Wayfarer that had been poised to strike Gamble with its heavy claws.

  Gamble shook his head. “Its carapace is too thick. We need to make sure the thing doesn’t survive.” He took a step toward the hive mind, knowing what awaited him—a dose of the thing’s acid. “The charges need to be inside it. You boys get out of here.”

  “I don’t think so,” Davis said. He snatched two of the charges from Gamble’s hand, before he could react.

  “Davis!” Gamble yelled.

  The crease in the hive mind’s heaving flank had returned, already opening to spray its deadly bile.

  Davis screamed as the stuff hit him, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he plunged his acid-coated arm inside the hive mind, right up to the elbow. “Get out of here,” he yelled, his voice racked with agony as the hive mind’s bile ate through his pressure suit. “Go!”

  Gamble and Tate looked at each other for a protracted moment. Then, Gamble nodded. They each detached their drag-behinds from their suits and activated them. Together, they ascended toward the cavern’s ceiling as Wayfarers closed in below.

  “How long is left on those timers, Major?”

  Gamble glanced at the timer, ticking down in the bottom-left corner of his HUD. “Twenty-nine seconds.”

  The private didn’t answer.

  Below, the Wayfarers ignored them, instead surging toward Davis, who was holding his R-57 with his undamaged hand and firing into the alien ranks, even as they closed in on him.

  Gamble shook his head in disbelief. That should have been me. Inside his pressure suit’s helmet, he sniffed back a tear.

  He and Tate touched down near the tunnel entrance, which was cleared. Farther in, he saw that two squads’ worth of marines had disobeyed his order to get out, instead securing the tunnel in case they managed to escape.

>   “Go, go, go!” he yelled at the waiting marines, his voice coming out ragged, hoarse.

  The timer read nineteen seconds.

  Ahead, Gamble could see marines rising through the dimness, riding their drag-behinds out of the tunnel and up to the asteroid’s surface.

  He risked a glance behind, and saw that several Wayfarers were turning away from the hive mind—back toward Gamble and Tate.

  They know they can’t reach the mind in time. They want revenge for what’s about to happen.

  Indeed, at least two dozen aliens began to charge at them.

  Gamble ripped a grenade from his belt, armed it, and cooked it as he pushed Tate ahead of him.

  Twelve seconds.

  He flung the grenade behind, and it arced slowly through the air. He gave Tate another shove.

  “We’re not gonna make it!” Tate said.

  “Shut up.”

  They bounded toward the tunnel entrance, moving with excruciating slowness in the low gravity.

  Five seconds.

  Gamble’s grenade went off behind them, washing out his night vision for a second.

  Tate reached the exit and used his drag-behind to ascend toward the surface.

  Gamble fumbled with his own device, the adrenaline making his fingers feel leaden.

  A brilliant flash of light obliterated his vision entirely. The charges’ shock wave tossed him off his feet and threw him forward, slamming him into the rock face.

  Everything went dark.

  Chapter 59

  Admiral Iver’s office

  UHC Providence, Battle Group Flagship

  “Take a seat, Captain,” Iver said, gesturing.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Husher was struck by how much the admiral’s office aboard the Providence resembled the one he’d occupied at Forward Operating Base Clarion, where Husher had met with him before all this started. That office had been sparsely decorated, with only a few reminders of the admiral’s accomplishments.

  The same was true of this office.