Trail of Evil

by Travis S. Taylor

  “Good job, Denise.”

  “Thank you, sir. Captain Seeley,” she said as the clone fleet’s captain appeared on the viewscreen.

  “General, we are ready and awaiting your order, sir,” the clone of one of Moore’s old Marine buddies from the Martian Wars said calmly. While he looked the same, he sounded very different. It was a bit haunting to Alexander.

  “Alright, Captain Seeley, commence your jump, and good hunting.” Moore nodded. “Minimize your losses as best you can and still maximize Chiata damage. If it gets too overwhelming, snap out of there. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. Good hunting to you too, sir.” The clone captain’s face disappeared and then the viewscreen changed back to the forward view.

  “Nav, take us in. XO, sound the alarm.” Moore watched the Blue force tracker in his DTM and highlighted the four ships going with him. He would have five of the Penzington Fleet ships with him all crewed by bots. Seeley would have five of his own fleet with him likewise filled with bots. “Let’s go start the ground war.”

  “All hands, all hands, prepare for QMT in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. QMT commencing.”

  The Earthlike planet popped up on the viewscreen almost as soon as the QMT flashes stopped. As the sizzling subsided in Alexander’s ears he could immediately hear the proximity alarms kick in.

  “General, we’ve got multiple contacts scattered about. Several of them have turned toward us,” the STO reported. “They’ll be on us soon, sir.”

  “Nav! You have full evasive maneuver authority,” Moore ordered. “STO, find me some population centers not hit by Penzington’s bombing run.”

  “Aye, sir! Already got them. Coordinates are in the battleview now.”

  “CO, CDC!”

  “Go, CDC!”

  “Sir, according to the analysis from wave-one data we will be in range of the blue beams in thirty seconds.”

  “Understood, CDC.”

  “XO, order the bot ships QMTed over the target coordinates and immediately deploy. Then have them fire nukes on targets of opportunity.”

  “Aye, sir!” Firestorm turned to her console and tapped a few commands. “Air Boss, Ground Boss, you heard the general. I want bot mecha flying and on the surface ASAP. Release the buzzsaws.”

  “As soon as we gauge the threat we’ll determine how to deploy our mecha,” Moore said out loud as a general information order to the bridge crew. “Gunnery officer!”

  “Sir,” Lieutenant Commander Marcus St. James looked up from his console. The gunner was another youngster in Moore’s crew. Nearly two years fighting bots could barely prepare him for what he was facing now. Moore had to encourage him.

  “I don’t hear the guns or the DEGs, lieutenant commander. Find targets and start hitting them!” Moore ordered. That was encouragement enough as far as he was concerned.

  “Aye, sir!”

  Almost instantly Alexander could feel the long-range plasma cannons and missile tubes popping. Beams from the portside bow DEGs cut across the sky into the oncoming swarm of Chiata ships. They were in range of the Madira’s guns. That meant that the Madira was in range of theirs. Then huge balls of plasma from the Chiata cannons started slamming into the ship’s barrier shield.

  Abby, how many Chiata supercarriers are engaging us? The red dots were too numerous to count quickly.

  Two-hundred eighty-seven, sir. There are many other smaller vessels and fighter-sized vehicles. The total target number is on the order of four hundred, his AIC answered.

  Holy shit. We’re vastly outnumbered.

  Yes, sir.

  What do Marines do when they are outnumbered, Abby?

  Attack, sir.

  Goddamned right. Be ready to take the QMT controls at any instant. And keep me posted on the shield status.

  Yes, sir.

  “Incoming fire, General!” Firestorm announced. “Ships three and five have taken direct hits from surface-to-space weapons.”

  “Find the source, XO!” Moore said just as the Madira felt as if something grabbed it and pushed it backwards and then hit it with a giant sledgehammer. “What the hell was that!”

  “Surface-to-space fire, sir!” the XO shouted over the hull rattling and the alarm klaxons.

  “Those things pack a hell of a wallop,” the Chief of the Boat added. “Sir, I’m getting damage and casualty reports on lower decks.”

  “General! I’ve got a fix on that fire,” the STO said excitedly.

  “Is it in range of the DEGs?”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Then feed the coordinates to the gunner. Gunnery Officer, hit that fucking thing!” Moore ordered. “Ground Boss, if we have any of the automated ground troops nearby, alert them that hell is about to rain on top of them. Then tell them to look at whatever it is and find and destroy anything else that looks like it. Air Boss, give them air support.”

  “Roger that, General,” Hailstorm and Commander Wiggington replied simultaneously.

  “General,” the XO added. “All ground and air forces have been deployed and are fully engaged with the enemy on the surface. The buzzsaw bots are on the ground buzzing and sawing, sir. We’re getting video feeds from them if you want to see it.”

  “Understood, Firestorm.” Moore pulled up the ground view in his DTM. The bot mecha seemed to be doing a decent job at wreaking havoc on the Chiata planet’s surface. He randomly picked an autotank from the blue dots and turned its video feed on in his mind.

  Abby, put this on the screen for everybody.

  Yes, General.

  The screen view changed instantly and the bridge crew had the view from the front end of an automated hovertank. The tank was tearing through a city with some of the strangest architecture Alexander had ever seen. The buildings looked like they had been molded from molten metal. There were energy beams and plasma balls zipping by as the video bounced and jumped. The audio was an earsplitting mixture of metal screeching, cannons firing, and energy balls exploding. Had there been a pilot there would have been guttural shouts and grunts added to the mix.

  At one point it was clear that the hovertank reconfigured to bot mode as the viewpoint shifted a few meters higher and bounced up and down with each giant mechanized step. The giant armored behemoth smashed and trashed and fired its weapons nonstop. It was inflicting a good bit of damage.

  The hovertank turned a corner around what appeared to be a building and then it was overwhelmed by a blur of motion. Large glowing red and green objects moving at very high speeds began pounding into the tank. Very high-pitched and very eerie screeching sounds saturated the audio to the point it was beyond earsplitting. Then it was clear that one of the bot tank’s mechanized arms had been ripped free and one of the red and green blurs was using it as a war club. Then the tank went down and the video was out.

  “My God!” Firestorm gasped. “Were those things civilians?”

  “We’ll analyze them later, XO.” Moore had his AIC toggle the screen back to forward view of the Madira. The planet beneath was close and they could see fireballs erupting on the surface below as the bot ships made bombing runs.

  Then the supercarrier lurched again and a deafening twang rang through the hull like it was a bell that had been rung. This time the lurching was in a different direction. The shield status alert popped up in his DTM view as down to seventy percent. Then Alexander saw several of the zigzagging blue beams of death cut into ship Two of his attack fleet. The ship’s barrier shield flashed with blue ionization all around it and then Moore could see smoke and fireballs shooting from the aft section.

  “Sir, number Two reports main guns and propulsion are offline. She’s dead in the water, General!” the XO reported.

  “Have them fire all their nukes and QMT out now!” Moore ordered. The ship was bot-controlled, but they could repair it and use it again on the next wave. That is, if they could get it out before it was destroyed. “Nav, hyperspace jaunt us between the Chiata swarm attacking Two and let’s giv
e her some cover.”

  “Jaunting now, General!”

  The purple whirling hyperspace conduit spun up in front of them for a brief instant and then it died away. They were between the wounded Number Two ship and about thirty Chiata ships.

  “Find targets!” Moore shouted. “Take us into the enemy swarm at close quarters. Let’s see if we can get too close for them to use those beams.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The navigation officer took the ship at top sublight speeds into the swarm and aimed directly at one of the Chiata supercarrier-sized ships. The enemy ship was at least as long as a supercarrier and maybe wider. The surface was covered with shiny silver tall, pointed spires that looked something like a cross between a stalagmite and the tip of a spear. The rest of the ship was a dull metal gray with red and green earthy tones mixed in here and there. The ship looked less like a vessel and more like some sort of animal. If Alexander had to describe the thing he would say it looked like a porcupine—a huge, deadly porcupine. Then several of the spires glowed red and the giant plasma balls poured out of them at the Madira.

  “Return fire, gunner!” he shouted as the energy balls pounded the barrier shield. The shield status bar went from green to yellow and showed forty-five percent.

  “At least we’re too close for those damned blue beams, sir,” the XO grunted. Then a blue beam zigged up from a ship on the other side of the closest ship. The beam tracked around the bow of the Chiata ship, turned right, traveled within meters of the bridge of the Madira, and made a final turn past them, making a direct hit on the unprotected Number Two. Number Two cracked in the midsection and then exploded. SIF generators blew out followed by the hyperspace projector core. Then there was nothing but a giant fireball where Number Two had been. Shrapnel from the explosion pounded the aft end of the Madira. The supercarrier continued to shake violently. The shield status bar dropped to forty percent.

  “Holy shit!” the COB shouted. “Sir, we’re taking damage pretty quickly. I’m getting casualty reports flooding in. The aft hangar SIFs are down and it is vented to space.”

  “Understood, COB. I’m open for suggestions.” Moore turned to the gunner and then back to the viewscreen. Then he saw another of the blue beams originate from an oversized tuning-fork-shaped spire at the front of the nearest ship. The beam only had to zig once before it tore across the Chiata ship in front of them. It was so close that it ripped right through several of the porcupine spires and then directly into the Madira’s starboard side at midsection. Alexander’s teeth rattled and he bit his tongue until it bled.

  The shield status bar dropped into the red, showing twenty-seven percent.

  “CHENG to CO!”

  “Go, CHENG!”

  “General, we can’t take another hit like that! The shield generators are overheating and I’ve got more relays throwing sparks down here than you can count!” Buckley sounded shaken. Moore knew the CHENG had been through some very serious shit during the wars and could handle pressure. The situation must be critical down there, he thought.

  Yes, sir, I am detecting nearly sixty percent of the electrical system is overloaded, Abigail replied. There are multiple high-energy gamma ray detectors sounding alarms. It is ugly down there, sir.

  “I know, Joe! Work harder or we die! I’m busy right now. Just keep the QMT system functioning and ready to snap out of here. And get more power to the shields. I don’t care where it comes from.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Gunner! I want all weapons targeting those Goddamned tuning-fork spires. We need to stop those blue beams.” Moore ordered. “Nav! Get us in closer to the enemy ship. I don’t care if we rub up against it and spoon with the Goddamned thing!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  The red beams from the DEGs tracked across the hull of the nearest Chiata porcupine, leaving an ionizing trail behind it. As far as Moore could tell the Chiata ships didn’t have shields, but the armor plating barely was affected. The beam tracked across a chink in the armor where the blue beam had blown several of the spires away and there, suddenly, secondary explosions occurred. Moore’s eyebrows raised and he slammed a fist down.

  “Right there!” he shouted. “Gunner! Hit the spot where the secondary explosions are happening. Fire everything there! Missiles and DEGs!”

  “Aye, sir!”

  The beam slewed back into the damaged area and chunks of the armor began to crack and bulge. Then missiles tracked into the same spot. Several of the spires spewing the plasma balls looked as if they had been stopped up and began to bulge at the center. One of them exploded, sending the top half of the stalagmite careening into an adjacent one. Another missile exploded in the vicinity. The exploding missile set off several secondary explosions and the DEGs then had a serious soft spot to hammer.

  The red beams tore deeper and deeper into the interior. More of the spires bulged and exploded. A large crack began to form across the hull of the enemy ship, which looked like earth cracking during an earthquake with a volcanic eruption pouring out from the crack at the same time. The crack glowed red as the surfaces on either side separated from each other. Sparks, fire, debris, and atmosphere poured from the crack.

  “Keep hammering that son of a bitch!” Moore growled. Then the Madira was hit so hard that he was nearly knocked unconscious as his head pounded against the helmet seal of his armored suit. Had he been wearing his helmet that wouldn’t have happened. His ears rang and his head hurt badly.

  “Nav! Get us the hell out of here!” he shouted. The ship didn’t move. “Nav!”

  Alexander tied to shake his head but it hurt too much. He blinked several times to clear the stars in his eyes and to keep from tunneling in from the pain in his back and neck. There were sparks flying from consoles and as he turned to the navigation officer’s station he could see her suit sitting upright while her head was twisted sideways. Her neck was broken. Commander Penny Swain was dead, and from the looks of it so was the COB.

  He grabbed his helmet box from his right shoulder and instinctively slapped the patch against his neck. The box unfolded and wrapped around his neck, connecting to the seal as it deployed the head cover and then the visor. The helmet was fully deployed in seconds. He instinctively bit at the water tube and triggered stimulants and pain meds to be filtered in. Moore believed he could stand. His neck was likely fractured but the suit would administer some immunoboost if he needed it and he’d be fine.

  Sir! The shields are down! Abigail warned him.

  Abby! Sound the order to the fleet and QMT us out of here now!

  Roger that! The AIC said. Sir! General Moore! General Alexander Moore?

  Just as the QMT lights flashed and the sizzling began, Alexander could see the Chiata ship crack completely in two. Explosions followed one after the other in a chain reaction from the center of the ship toward the bow and the stern. He could hear Abigail shouting at him in his mind but he couldn’t respond. He felt as if his mind was suddenly forced to lose focus. Then he lost control of his suit and he fell hard backwards into his chair. He could see Firestorm out of the corner of his eye leaning over her console. He couldn’t tell if she was still alive or not. Fire started to engulf the bridge on the forward port side right up until the viewport on the same side cracked all over like a spider web and then gave way. Atmosphere rushed into space, pulling anything that wasn’t tied down with it. At least it blew out the flames. Moore tried one more time to stand but his body didn’t respond. He could see the Oort Cloud out the broken window as he passed out.

  Chapter 46

  June 13, 2407 AD

  Alpha Lyncis

  203 Light-years from the Sol System

  Tuesday, 9:43 AM, Expeditionary Mission Standard Time

  “Is Dee okay?” Moore started awake. His vision was blurred and there was a bright light shining in his face that was annoying as hell. The worst of it was that he couldn’t move anything.

  Your daughter is fine, sir, Abigail said into his mind. She was safely
restrained in her mecha when we were hit. I’m very happy to hear your voice.

  Abby? What the hell is going on? Why can’t I move?

  Your neck was fractured, sir. Medics are here now. Stay calm, sir.

  Where is Sehera?

  She is here.

  “Sehera?”

  “Alexander. I’m here.”

  Moore could see his wife lean in over him briefly, but he couldn’t turn toward her. He felt no pain anywhere in his body. He figured the suit was taking care of that.

  “Sehera, what is wrong with me?”

  “Alexander, your neck is broken. You have to give the immunoboost time to fix it. You had extensive spinal-cord damage. It may take a day or two after the repairs before you will walk again.”

  “Where am I?” Moore couldn’t see anything but his wife’s face and the motion of doctors in his peripheral view.

  “You are in the med bay. We are safe at the outer system muster point,” Sehera assured him. “You need to stay calm and heal.”

  “How bad was it?” He almost whispered. “How many dead?”

  “I don’t know. But you were the only one alive on the bridge when they got there. The air had vented to space and you and Firestorm were the only crew with your helmets on. Sally was revived. I think she’s going to make it,” Sehera said.

  Abby, DTM me a casualty list.

  Sir, are you sure you want to do that right now? the AIC sounded reluctant.

  Abby! Now.

  Yes, sir.

  “How are you okay? Were you wearing your helmet?” he asked his wife.

  “I was, but I was here in the med bay helping. The most damage was on the bridge spire. They knew where to hit us,” Sehera told him. Moore was scrolling the casualty list. There were more than one hundred neck injuries. More than seventy of them were dead and couldn’t be revived. He’d have to implement a new order for either the suit neck brace to be deployed or the helmets to be on. Not including that in the original order was a stupid mistake on his part. Those lives were on his head.