by Alan Black
“Oh hell, gentlemen. We’re just a few minutes short of the Hyrocanians blowing our asses out of space.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Stone leaned over MCPO Thomas’s shoulder, staring at the data and mathematics scribbled on the monitor and the master chief’s dataport display. He didn’t understand or even recognize half of the equations, but the solution was clear. No matter what angle the Rusty Hinges took toward the jump point, no matter how much speed they could coax out of their engines and no matter how many munitions they threw behind them, the Hyrocanian battle ship was going to catch and kill them.
Butcher said, “They have their front shields on maximum, so any shots we take at them just bounce off or slide away.”
Stone asked “Whizzer and Kat? Is there any way to spoof their computers to make them think they’ve already killed us or that they lost us?”
Shaking his head, Butcher answered. “We tried. They must have thrown in a new firewall once they figured out we were getting into their systems.”
Stone doubted the usually slow-witted Hyrocanians had any computer experts who could out-code the human scientists. It might be possible. It was more likely they just pulled the plug on the infected systems. The ship was certainly trying to get close enough to turn the Rusty Hinges into space dust without the aid of computers.
Butcher continued, “That big bastard was the closest Hyrocanian ship to us when we started throwing missiles and mines. They’d have gone down in flames along with every other ship we hit, except they started to move and we missed them completely. We’ve been running and dodging them ever since. They aren’t straight behind us, but they do have the angle on us now to intercept us before we can jump out of the system. We might be able to outrun them if they were trailing us straight on, but not now.”
A bigger ship didn’t mean bigger engines. Anti-gravity engines didn’t care about the size of the ship. The only issue was connectivity to the ship. Theoretically, a small engine could move a planet, however the one time that stunt had been tried, the only surviving engineer said, “She was just a big bitch to steer.” The planet’s wobble and spin had been uncontrollable.
Stone said, “Sir, if we can’t get away, I’d rather go down swinging. How about turning to fight?”
Butcher shook his head. “We thought about it, but that big bastard would flick us away like a mosquito attacking a hungry bat. Our test shots have been at a distance, but we’re close enough to know their forward shields are too strong to punch through before they pound us down to unpainted, metal flakes. Our best hope is to dodge their weapons fire using our shields until we can manage to squeak through the jump point.”
Stone wasn’t sure what a mosquito or a bat was, but he decided not to look them up at the moment. He understood the imagery from the context. Glancing at the monitors, he could tell they were only a few short moments away from the pursuing ship reaching effective weapons range.
Numos asked, “What about the Freedom Wagon? Did Sissie and her civilian crew get away?”
“We don’t know. We can only hope they jumped out of the system when the fireworks started, since we lost contact with them about that time.”
“Navigation, sir.” The operator’s voice sounded weary with just a touch of panic wrapped in resignation. “Object dead ahead. No — wait.”
Every monitor snapped on just as they shot past a huge dark shape. They only recognized something was there when distant stars disappeared behind the object’s bulk.
“Astrogation, what was that? A small moon or an abandoned ship?”
“Astrogation, sir. Don’t know. It’s too dark to get a clear reading. If it is a ship, it was abandoned a long time ago. Even emergency running lights must be burnt out. If it’s a rogue moon, it’s hiding in the shadow of that nearby ice planet. We don’t even have a visual, sir.”
“Helm, sir. Whatever it was, we were close enough to scrape off paint, if this ship had paint to scrape off. We —”
“Tactical, sir.” The woman’s voice interrupted. “The object is moving.”
The monitors showed a dark shape, discernible only because astrogation had tagged the dark shape, allowing the viewers to see a dark shadow. They still couldn’t register a shape, just the movement of a mass.
Butcher looked at Gupta, “XO? A ship lying doggo to squeeze us between their guns and that big bastard behind us?”
Gupta said, “No, sir. If that was their plan, they missed their window. We have shields on high, but they still could have hit us with enough to get through our shields before we even saw them. Now we’re —”
“Tactical, sir. It’s a ship. Damned thing is still full dark, but running at ramming speed.”
“Ramming? But we’re already past it.” Butcher’s voice illustrating his confusion.
“Not at us, sir. She’s aimed at the big bast — I mean, target alpha behind us. They’ll intersect at an angle far enough behind the Hyrocanian’s shields that they will crush the other’s hull like ice for a margarita.”
“Sissie.” It took a second before Stone realized he’d even said her name aloud. No one on the bridge disagreed with him.
“Tactical, sir. Sissie’s opened fire. She’s throwing everything she’s got at target alpha.” Tactical’s voice picked up the pace as her excitement grew. “She’s got the angle on their shields. Go, baby! Go! The big bastard still doesn’t see her.”
Stone closed his eyes, willing Sissie to fire and turn. Turn and run to the jump point.
“Direct hits.” Tactical was excited enough to forget protocol and announce themselves, but everyone recognized her voice, although it wasn’t the calm controlled tone they were used to. “Multiple hits. That’s it. Take the bastard down!” Tactical was shouting. “A dozen direct hits. Wobble setting in. Target alpha is losing way. Secondary explosions. Heavy wobble. Throwing debris. Wait — now. Sissie’s turning the Freedom Wagon. She’d gonna hit debris from the big bastard, but her shields should hold … um, sir.”
Stone wasn’t the only one who cheered.
“Communications, send a message to Captain Sissie on the Freedom Wagon. Tell her to head to the jump point. We’ll meet her in orbit around the piglet home world.”
Gupta said, “Assuming their code to let us in the door still works and we don’t get bumped back into hyperspace by their repulsar mines.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Stone controlled the grimace threatening to escape the rigid set of his face. Standing at attention, he wiggled his toes and flexed his knees, envying the marines in the formation who were attending this ceremony in their combat suits. Another piglet dignitary ascended to the dais. The translator was typing furiously to keep up with the speech. This piglet was the same little guy who commanded their space navy. Stone recognized him only because he recognized the spangled sash he wore over his shoulder. Stone hoped this was the last speech for this ceremony. Everyone from Commander Butcher to Spacer Dollish had been fed, feted, and given medals and awards.
Metals were a new idea for the piglets. They grasped the concept with enthusiasm, even giving Sissie her own sash with a bright yellow stripe denoting her command of a piglet vessel during combat. Apparently, she received the first yellow stripe given by the piglets and she was the first female to ever be given a sash.
This little guy could be blathering on about anything or nothing. Stone had quit listening three speeches back. He’d been awarded another half dozen medals to add to his collection for everything from saving a baby piglet to commanding a company of piglet warriors on a hostile planet. Being recognized for doing a job was nice, but he wondered why they couldn’t do this sitting down.
Every time the piglet space commander said something even remotely apropos, dozens of piglets chanted something that the translator typed in as “Aaaroooah!”. Their cry of approval was always punctuated by a wave of drasco wonking. The seven drascos were keeping their enthusiasm up, although Stone was beginning to envy Anne, still stuck in medical getting
her broken leg and shoulder repaired. Early on, the marines had yelled “Ooo-rah!” but, even the marines were getting tired of the interminable speeches.
Shorty threw a dirt clod at the speaker. It thudded against the piglet dignitary’s belly. “Shut up, already, you old gas bag.” The translator typed furiously, obviously ordered to relay everything anyone said.
The space commander harrumphed back. He actually turned his back, bent at the waist, and let loose a long fart. Shorty hit him in the ass with a second dirt clod before the piglet could turn back again.
“Enough,” Shorty said. “These humans risked their lives in combat against a mutual enemy and now you’re trying talk them to death.”
“But we want to thank them and let them know how much we appreciate —”
“You said that already a dozen times,” Shorty shouted. The little pirate stomped his way up to the dais. “Even my ears are getting tired of this. And my feet hurt.”
“You know nothing about protocol, you … you … pribit!”
Shorty laughed, “I’m only a pirate because Mom liked you best.”
“No she didn’t. She liked me — wait, what?”
Shorty laughed harder. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders, giving him a friendly shake. “Enough speeches. These folks are anxious to get home and I’m going back to the Hyrocanian system.”
Stone was almost shocked into speaking, but he was still at attention and muscle memory saved him from embarrassment.
Jay called to him, “What does Shorty mean, Mama?”
The drascos haphazard formation dissolved as they tried to make sense of Shorty’s statement. A quick argument broke out in the drasco ranks. They were evenly split about going back and going home. Their home planet had evolved the drascos into fighters, struggling every day to survive. Without having to fight for their next meal, combat was a good substitute for a drasco’s urge for conflict.
Shorty said, “The humans inflicted serious damage to the ships in that system. They also put repulsar mines at every known navigation point. Any damaged ship with hyperspace capability would jump to a repair base. Any undamaged ship might jump or might not, but any ship still there is fair game and I call dibs on their cargo.”
His brother said, “I will send a squadron of battle cruisers with you.” He waved a hand to stop Shorty’s interruption. “You keep the cargo, but I want that system clear as a buffer for our world. Never again will we let a ship of eaters have access to our children.”
A rousing chorus of “aaaroooah!” was punctuated by drasco wonks and marine ooo-rahs, almost drowning out the space commander’s next words.
Shorty said, “My ship, the Freedom Wagon, has been resupplied and is taking on crew. Enlistment bonuses for signing on are quite large because of the bounty we brought back from our last trip.”
The space commander said, “Only the dregs of our society will sign onto a ship commanded by a pribit.”
Shorty laughed, “The Freedom Wagon is captained by my slave, Sissie.” He pointed to Sissie, standing next to a table off to the side. “You’ve made a point today of how well she did.”
The space commander sputtered, “No male would sign on to be ruled over by a female…” His voice faded away as dozens of piglets swarmed over to the table to sign on with the pirate crew.
Jay shouted, “Stand where you are, girls. No, Charlotte. This is the piglets fight. Not ours.” Stone could tell from her tone that she didn’t believe her own words. The drascos fancy parade-ground chrome armor glittered as they danced in excitement.
Emily shouted back, “But we owe the four-armed freaks for hurting Anne, like really!”
Tee shouted, “For sure!”
Bea wonked loudly. “We’re marines, sisters. We don’t get to pick and choose our fights.”
Peebee’s voice was calm. Her tone surprised Stone as she was usually the most excitable drasco in the crowd. “We stand with Mama. Where he goes we go. No arguments.”
Jay sighed with agreement. “Mama led us to a good fight and he will lead us to more.”
Shorty shouted over the hubbub. “Formation dismissed.” A dozen NCO voices picked up the command and repeated it so quickly than no human officer had the time to counter the command.
Stone shivered a little to relax his muscles. Walking over to his drascos, he said, “I’m a navy officer, girls. I go where the navy sends me. I want you with me, but I can’t force you to go anywhere or do anything. Just know that I love you all.”
He felt someone at his back and glanced over his shoulder. Allie flanked him on one side and a haggard looking Hammermill flanked him on the other.
Allie asked, “Problems?”
Stone said, “Some of the drascos want to go with the piglets.”
Tee said, “Revenge for hurting Anne, you know?” She typed into her dataport translator as fast as she talked. Stone was amazed at how quickly she entered her words into the virtual keyboard.
Hammermill said, “I do know. I lost many good friends and going back sounds like a good idea.”
Emily said, “Good friends, yes. But, Anne is our sister.”
Hammermill shook his head.
Stone spoke quickly, “Hammer lost Rainne Escamilla. He loved her and wanted to make her his family. You know what that means to humans.”
Tee said, not bothering with her translator, so only Stone and the other drascos heard, “Really! Like, not the same thing.”
Ell raised up to her full height and wonked loudly, “Not the same. Worse, for sure. Humans make family of their choosing, not just who you were born with.” She slapped her tail against the back of Tee’s head. “You know that. Sisters!” She rolled her eyes.
Jay said, “We’ve discussed human marriage.”
Peebee said, “Husband and wife.”
Stone reached back and grabbed Allie’s hand, ignoring all regulations against public displays of affection.
Bea said, “Foreverness.”
Ell said, “Children.”
All of the drascos nodded in concert as if that was the telling argument.
Bea said, resorting back to her translator, “Mama is navy, but we’re marines. We fight where marines tell us to fight.”
Tee snorted, “We’re not real marines. Only humans get to be real marines.”
Bea shouted back. “Are too!”
Emily said, “Are not!”
Allie held up her hands for quiet. The drascos quieted immediately.
Hammermill looked at Allie. “They’re right, you know. Any regulation against their enlistment?”
Allie shrugged, “No regulation I’ve ever read specifies humans only. I never heard of a non-human species volunteering. Let’s run it past the major.”
Hammermill said, “We wouldn’t have had half the trouble we did, if we had a trio of drascos with us on that orbital platform. They would have warned Rainne about the enemy behind that hatch before she walked into an ambush.”
Allie nodded, slipping her hand out of Stone’s. Reaching across, she gave Hammermill a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She slid her hand back into Stone’s so quick he still felt her earlier warmth.
Charlotte wonked sadly and grunted in an unusual way. “I want children, Mama. I want babies of my own like Jay and Peebee have us and you have them.”
Jay said, “No you don’t.”
Peebee said, “Yes, she does. It wasn’t nice, but look what that male gave us.” She gestured at the girls clustered around her.
Jay nodded and sighed, looking at each of their daughters in turn. “I guess it’s time we have that talk.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Stone wanted to shout at the doctor, but the man outranked him. He said, as quietly as his temper could manage. “Sir, Private Anne is an enlisted marine. Regulations state that all marines get combat nanites for rapid healing.”
“Ensign Stone, I recognize that Major Numos enlisted your drascos.” He glanced up at the newly minted Corporal Jay towering over him. H
is nervousness was evident, but he held his ground. “That enlistment has yet to be vetted by marine higher command. It might not be. However —”
The doctor waved a hand stopping Stone’s interruption. “— However, I have explicit instructions from my command. The medical corps is leery of putting human-designed nanites into non-human species. We just don’t know what can or will happen.”
Stone said, “But Anne is healing so slowly. The nanites would get her back on her feet quicker.”
The doctor exploded, “Slowly? Slowly? Good gracious, young man. Her healing is a dozen times faster than any normal human. That leg and those shoulder bones were shattered into a hundred tiny pieces. A human would spend a month in traction as those bones reknit. It’s only been about four weeks or so and my patient —” he emphasized the words — “my patient is already stumping around in a cast. I will admit that a marine would be back on their feet in half the time, even less if we were at a fully outfitted hospital, but this bucket is barely outfitted with more than an aid station.”
Stone asked, “So maybe when we get back to Allie’s World, you can see about getting her leg fixed?”
The doctor shook his head, “Oh no. We jump … hopefully … back into human space in a few hours. You’d have to rejump to Brickman’s station. That is a quick jump, but then you’d have to take Private Anne on to Lazzaroni Station before you found a hospital that might, and I stress might, have an examination room large enough to examine a drasco, assuming the marines will claim her as one of their own. And she’ll be healed by the time you get her there.”
Stone said, “That makes my point, Doctor. The combat nanite the marines authorized will heal her even faster.”
Speaking as if to a child, the doctor said, “Son, your own medical files tell us about the dangers of mixing drasco DNA with human designed nanites. No, don’t interrupt. I know about the changes your body had gone through. We still don’t know if those changes are done yet or if they’re transferrable to your children.”
