by Cameron, TR
The pattern developing in an upper corner of the screen demanded his attention. A pair of enemy ships traveled in a wide circuit of the sector. Three Alliance ships broke off to pursue them, seeing the opportunity for momentary superiority of numbers as an irresistible gift.
Cross felt it in the pit of his stomach, just the way he had when the aliens almost trapped the Washington during the last battle. He looked over at Okoye, but he was engrossed in coordinating the actions of their force, and not to be interrupted.
He banged his hands on the arms of his chair as the ships closed, hoping to be wrong but knowing he was right. With the captain unable to, he needed to act.
Cross stood and walked over to the communication officer, and whispered, “Ana, connect me to the Beijing right away.” She nodded, and he picked up a headset sitting nearby, tucking the plug into his ear and positioning the mic near his mouth.
“Go, Cross,” she said.
“Beijing, this is Lieutenant Commander Anderson Cross from the Washington. Take a look at your battle display. Those two ships in the upper left of the sector are leading your people into a trap.”
Dima Petryaev’s voice came back over the channel. “What are you saying?” Cross pictured him staring at the icons swimming like minnows on the screen, trying to make them speak to him the same way they did to Cross.
“The aliens did the same thing to me, Captain, in the last engagement. They show lesser strength, and the moment you commit, suddenly several quick ships close and flip the odds.”
Dima grumbled in Russian, and the channel clicked off. Cross turned and walked back to his chair, then stood behind it and watched the trap unfold. As predicted, two more enemy pairs disengaged from their battle and rocketed toward the Alliance ships that had been drawn out of protective support range of their fellows.
The warning got there in time for the AAN forces to prepare for the incoming surprise, but too late for them to avoid it. Several other Alliance ships fired salvos of torpedoes that traveled far too slowly to make a difference in the unfolding battle.
The Alliance trio fought hard, and Cross rooted for them soundlessly as they took up defensive positions to combine the effects of their shields against the enemy that would soon swarm them on all sides at once. His fingers hurt from the way he gripped the top of the seat as he watched other ships reposition as if they could influence the outcome.
The six alien vessels created a rotating pattern around the triangle comprised of the three Alliance ships. The triangle was a strong defensive position that allowed their shields to focus on a 180° hemisphere rather than a full 360° sphere, giving them almost double the amount of protective power.
Cross couldn’t help but be impressed by the symmetry and coordination of the aliens’ flight path. Too unpredictable for their opponents to damage them with energy fire, it still kept all the alien ships engaged continuously with the target, pouring blasts into diminishing shields.
As the battle display showed the Alliance ships’ defenses failing, it was clear the time left to them was drawing to a close.
The Alliance ships heading in that direction surprised Cross when they turned around to return to the main fracas, but his surprise lasted only a moment. The display lit up with the explosion of the three Alliance ships, a conflagration of overloaded engines.
Of the six ships engaged with them, five were converted to flaming debris, venting atmosphere and bodies into space. The sixth limped away, its reduced speed suggesting engine damage. Fighters from the Beijing and his brothers finally reached the area, swarming around and firing shots of frustration into the floating jetsam on their way to chasing down the escapee.
Their quarry fell to their guns, and Cross hissed in satisfaction despite the loss.
“Incoming transmission,” Ana Fitzpatrick’s low soprano tones spoke through his earpiece. He nodded at her and heard a raspy voice made thick with sorrow.
“Thank you for the warning, Lieutenant Commander Cross. Captain Zha was one of my trainees. The Minsk was his first command. It is,” his emotions broke through in a slight change of tone, but he brought it back under control, “a great loss. But at least you gave them time to draw in the enemy ships, and they chose their death with honor.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
An ensign wearing a tunic in the hunter green of the engineering division ran through the cleared territory to reach Kate and handed her a satchel. “Chief put something extra in there for you. Sends his regards.” Then he dashed away, his footsteps echoing as he retreated to the Washington.
She turned with a smile on her face and triggered the comm to her team. “I’ve got the solution to blowing those booby-traps before we reach them, but since we don’t know what could happen, you might want to watch from a safe distance.”
Gunnery Sergeant Rhys St. John came over to stand behind her and looked down at the object in her hands. “What do you have there?”
“Oh, you’re gonna like these, Sergeant.” Kate opened the satchel, pulled out the cylinder that rested inside it and clipped it to her belt. The handheld remote was next in line. She activated it and ran a quick diagnostic. Everything came up green, naturally—no piece of equipment would dare fail on Jannik’s watch. She was sure that the Marines could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “These are some of our chief engineer’s favorite toys. Take a look.”
She upended the satchel, and a bunch of billiard-ball-sized metal objects fell out, clanking and rolling in the hallway. Kate interfaced with the remote, allowing her to use the suit’s internal command structure to communicate with it. After tucking the remote away, she ordered the devices to a ready state. The spheres unfolded and long spindly legs extended until they resembled the arachnids that were their namesake.
Lance Corporal Hugo Galano, the biggest man on the team, noted conversationally, “I hate spiders.”
The members of his squad laughed, and Kate joined in. “You’re going to like what these ones can do,” she promised. Another set of commands sent them skittering forward. They launched themselves at the origination points of the beams that crisscrossed their path. In several cases, the spiders managed to reach and disarm the devices. But in most cases, the spiders made the ultimate sacrifice, and explosions rang throughout the hallway, showering the Marines in dust and debris. When the cacophony had settled, they had a trap-free route to the command information center. A few of the little robots that made it through the destruction formed a line next to Kate, awaiting new orders.
“Good spiders,” Kate said.
Galano didn’t venture an opinion either way.
* * *
As they reached the door to the command information center, the Marines took up defensive positions, protecting Kate as she interrogated the starbase’s computer system.
“Dammit,” she said, “suddenly the base won’t talk to me.”
Sergeant St. John’s voice came over the comm. “Corporal Jameson, do you still have access to the base’s computer?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Dammit,” echoed St. John. “All right, Flame, you’re up.”
“Make way,” Private First-Class Moya Candella said, moving forward and knocking Kate aside in her haste. She knelt in front of the door and dug a long roll of what looked like metal rope from a compartment in the right leg of her armor. She started at one corner of the door and worked her way up the side of the frame, pressing the cord into place. She repeated the process on the other side until she had fully outlined the door with the sticky substance, including a strip running down the middle. She retreated and nodded at the others.
St. John’s voice spoke in her helmet, “Red, what’s the situation inside the room?”
Kate checked and swallowed heavily. “Fifteen humanoid forms that are cooling, and eight that read as much warmer than you or I.” She linked the positions of the heat blooms to her squad mates. A last-minute check of the map showed only this entrance into the CIC, unless they wanted to d
rill up or down from another deck, and she shared that option with the team.
“I know,” he said, “it’s a bad situation, no two ways about it. But bad situations are what we were born to handle. You’ve done your bit, move to the back, Red.”
Kate didn’t wait to be asked twice. Although she had a rifle and would use it if she needed to, she enjoyed the theory, tactics, and strategy of combat much more than the experience of it. A member of second squad tossed her a medical pack, and she reviewed the contents.
“We go in ten seconds. Flame, blow it on three.” St. John began the countdown. At three seconds, the explosive ignited, and the door hurtled from its frame, cartwheeling in two pieces into the room. A second later, the Marines followed it in. Kate watched the action through the camera Surfer wore.
The first team entered and went both left and right. Hugo Galano used his heavy rifle to spray bolts of energy as he moved. Private Mark Miner and Corporal Jeffrey Baker fired standard projectiles, not caring one bit about whether they vented the room’s atmosphere. Rhys St. John showed his own lack of concern about that matter by launching a fragmentation grenade that lanced shrapnel across three-fourths of the enemy combatants, who appeared to have been taken by surprise.
The second team entered immediately after, using projectile fire and energy bolts but refraining from adding more grenades to the mix. Ten seconds after they entered, the eight aliens were also on the ground, cooling as their sapphire blood stained the deck.
“All clear,” came St. John’s calm voice into her helmet speakers.
She was amazed to find any part of the room still intact as she crossed the threshold. The walls and equipment were scorched with energy discharge, and pitted with holes from shrapnel and bullets, or dented from the impact of body parts moving at high speed.
Kate crossed to a computer station that still appeared functional and connected the interface cable from her power armor to the system. “Downloading and erasing,” she said, and pulled out several cables from the satchel, attaching them to the remote for the spiders. The mechanical arachnids followed her as she moved—obedient little pets awaiting a task.
Kate linked another device into the computer, and said, “This is a wireless repeater, and when we depart, if we don’t have all of the data, this will keep feeding it to us.”
Flame, who had been circling the room outside her view, stood in front of her and held up a control. “This is a wireless detonator, and when we depart, I’m going to blow the living daylights out of this place. So be sure to get all your data before we go, please.”
“Going as fast as I can. You’re awful pushy. Even for a Marine.”
“Damn skippy, Freckles.”
The comm channel was filled with the relieved laughter of warriors who had found a precious lull in the combat that made up their lives. It was short-lived, however.
“Flynn, this is the Washington. Be advised, you are running out of time. The base is speeding to pull itself apart, and there is another, much larger alien squad on its way to you as we speak.”
“Affirmative, Washington. We’re withdrawing.” She retracted her cable and activated the repeater.
She passed the information on to Sergeant St. John, and he gave the orders to get them moving again. He took rear guard. Kate figured that grenades might be a bigger deterrent to pursuing aliens than standard ammunition and was glad for the switch.
They quick-marched in retreat along the path they’d used to reach the command center. The base shuddered around them.
“This is going to be a close one,” Galano observed.
“No closer than that time on colony six,” Baker responded.
That drew a chuckle from the rest of the squad.
“Colony six was a cluster—” began a voice, then stopped with a cough. “A mess, I mean.”
“A mess it was,” St. John said as they reached the entrance area again. He kept the channel open as he added another one to it, and said, “Sinner? Status?”
Cynthia Murphy responded as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity. “Evacuation complete, my people are pulling back, just setting the final mines. We’ve been in contact with the Washington, and you need to get your asses over here right now.”
“Affirmative,” St. John said. “Everyone out. I’m last. Red, you’re first. Get over there, and let us know when we can blow this thing.”
The Marines retreated along the gangway toward the ship, and as Sergeant St. John walked across it, it began to retract, leaving the base open to space on the opposite side.
Kate watched them cross, keeping one eye on St. John and the other on the display window she’d opened in her helmet when she left her remote behind. It was still feeding data at high velocity, but she could see it vibrating ever so slightly and knew the aliens must be closing in upon it.
The Marines had left them some presents, and the vibrations were from the explosions heralding the delivery of those gifts.
Finally, all the Marines were back, and the airlock door was secured again. Kate felt a slight lurching motion as the Washington pulled away from the base. Then, in that display screen, she saw an alien face, its strange scaled or feathered skin evident as it bent down to examine the device.
It was only a remote control, connected to the computer and feeding data, so it was no threat to them. However, the small cylinder she’d picked up out of the satchel that Jannik had sent her was a different matter entirely. Wedged under the base of the desk, it was just waiting for a trigger to set it off.
Kate regretted the necessity, but they needed to buy a little more time to finish the export. “Execute, execute, execute,” she whispered. The device hummed for a second, then a crimson beam of coherent light extended through an arc of 180°, cutting a diagonal line into walls, chairs, and living flesh. She was happy that, at least, she was the only one to see the damage she’d wrought.
She watched the computer feed over the next several minutes as it drew to a close, and triggered her comm, “Bridge, Sensors, this is Flynn.”
“Flores here, ma’am.”
“Do you have a complete record of the data from the base?”
“Affirmative, Lieutenant Commander.”
“Verify that the captain wants it linked to the Alliance forces, then see to it.”
“Affirmative. Flores out.”
Kate toggled her communication channel back to the unit and gave them the word. “We’re good to go. Blow it.”
Three seconds later, the feed from her remote went white, then disappeared.
She triggered her helmet release and removed it, setting it aside and running her hands through her sweaty hair to free it from the armor’s tangling embrace. She popped the individual plates from her suit, adding them to the Marines’ stash of items to be reviewed, repaired, and rearmed.
Finally, she tromped over to an exoskeleton bay and entered the appropriate codes on the frame. With a hiss of hydraulics and the metallic click of disengaging pieces, she stepped free of the skell that was now secured in its storage and transportation unit.
She found Sergeant Murphy, who was also taking off her gear, and gestured at the sensor suit. “I’m going to keep this until I can take it off in my own quarters, okay with you?”
She gave Kate a knowing smile. “Undressing in front of this lot gets old fast. Get it back to us when you can.”
Sergeant St. John came over and put a hand on Murphy’s shoulder. “Don’t let Sinner fool you. She looks just as much as anybody.”
Murphy laughed. “Well, it’s true that there are some fine-looking people in this platoon, yourself included, Saint.”
“Ooh-Rah, Gunny,” he said with a grin, and turned to Kate.
“You’re welcome to run with us anytime, Red. You kept your head and did a good job, and that’s all we can ask of anyone.”
Kate gave him a weak smile in reply, but it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it. The parts of space that called to her were not the parts filled wit
h anger, discord, and death. Her dreams were of exploration and new discoveries.
She sighed, and put those wishes back in the tiny box in her mind where they lived, where they awaited those moments when she needed to retrieve them to maintain her mental balance.
The ship lurched as it took a major hit, and atmosphere warning klaxons sounded. Kate ran for the ladder and climbed, knowing her proper place was with her fellow officers on the bridge.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Cross was jolted in his chair as the Washington’s shields absorbed simultaneous energy blasts and torpedo impacts from a pair of enemy ships. The tactical officer called out, “Several sections open to atmosphere, bulkheads closing to seal off the damage. No casualties.”
He watched Captain Okoye as he dealt with the multiple streams of information flowing to him. As the senior commander in the zone, he was responsible for both the operation of the Washington and for choreographing the larger battle. The complexity of this position prevented effective coordination with the Alliance ships.
Cross’s responsibility was to fight, freeing the captain to focus on the battlefield. The impact of the weapons and the damage to the Washington got him a glare from Okoye, but it was more a shared annoyance at their enemy than disappointment in his performance.
“What the hell is that?” Helm officer Zachary Lee was upset about something on the battle display, and Cross’s eyes shifted up to see what it was. Three of the alien ships had a strange line connecting them, made of sparking energy. Where it intersected with other matter, that matter was cut as if by a laser. The two on the end were angling away from the center ship, allowing them to encompass more space with the devastating beams. The one in the middle headed straight for the Washington.
