by Marc Stevens
I groped around until I came up with my shotgun. I looked for Klutch and saw he was on the floor struggling with two of the bugs. One of the bugs had its mandibles clamped securely onto one of his tree trunk legs. Using my shotgun for a bat I hit the creature in the eye collapsing its protective cover. When the Crit gave up trying to tear Klutch’s leg off, I gave it two more powerful butt strokes with the shotgun. As the bug fell back I locked my arm around the pivot point of its neck and jerked three times before it partially separated from its body. I was going to attempt to pull the remaining Quill off Klutch when his fighting knife suddenly jutted from the back of the bug’s head. It disappeared and reappeared three more times. Klutch used his legs to shove the Crit aside.
The Tibor gave me a sardonic look. “The Crit should have kept his mouth shut!”
We were boxed in by a veritable wall of bug bodies. The bulkhead just above and behind us was taking a nonstop barrage of what looked like tracer bullets splattering fragments and burning acid in all directions. Bullets might not have been the right definition. One of the Quill bodies lying at the top of the mound of corpses tumbled down at our feet. One side of it had hundreds of smoking spikes protruding from its body. In an oxygen atmosphere, the Quill weapons accelerated the spikes to a velocity high enough to illuminate the acid clinging to them.
Tria yelled to us, “EXPLOSIVES OUT!”
She bounced a burst of H.E. off both sides of the ceiling above us. I should have just taken a seat on the floor because that’s where I ended up. It was once again raining Quill and their body parts. We needed to move before we were buried alive. The Quill fire hitting our barricade and the wall behind us tapered off drastically. Since we were all on the floor now anyway, I pointed the muzzle of my launcher at the ceiling and fired nine single shots of high explosive at different angles. The return fire ceased with the third round, but the beast inside of me was a trigger-happy son of a bitch. Tria and Klutch had yelled cease fire more than once before I finally did.
I had not heard from Justice since he dropped us off and was pretty sure my comms could not penetrate the ship. I activated my link and got Coonts, who said he was still busy picking the Quill off of the hull. He said Justice and the now five remaining Chaalt warships had heavily damaged the last Quill vessels. The Quill had attempted to jump out of the system but he said Justice and the Chaalt had given them no quarter. The enemy ships were so damaged they could no longer transition. The Quill fled into the asteroid field trying to escape. Justice was covering Coonts while the Chaalt warships chased down the last of the Quill. I tried once more to link with Sael Nalen but still got nothing.
Tria pulled me to my feet and Klutch climbed up on the morbid barricade. He stood up and jumped to the other side. We quickly scurried to the top and over. Klutch was nudging a Quill body here and there and twice jumped on the heads of survivors. The room was complete devastation; there was not a single intact body or piece of equipment. Everything was smoking from acid or explosives.
There were four lift tubes at the end of the room. All were clogged with Quill bodies and a few Chaalt mixed in. All the Chaalt crew casualties we saw did not have body armor. The Crit’s surprise entry tactic left no time for troops to assemble and repel their incursion.
My guess was the lifts were either shut down or disabled by the spine when it hit the ship. The bugs looked like they had formed a living ladder and were attempting to climb the tubes. Every exit was an ambush point the Chaalt were using to their advantage. By the look of the finely ground enemy body parts, I would say the Chaalt took great pleasure in throwing explosives into the tubes. Now that it was quiet, we could hear the thudding vibrations of a pitched battle somewhere above us. Our choices were simple. We go back and fight our way to the lifts in the engineering spaces or attempt to clear one of the tubes and go up to the command deck.
I was shocked at the number of Quill bodies we were looking at. What stunned me even more was the thought of how many must have boarded in the short time it took us to attack their ship and disable the umbilical. Klutch must have decided he was not willing to give up the ground we had covered. He waded into the edge of a lift tube and started throwing the Quill bodies clear of the opening. Tria joined him and I could think of nothing better. We hurled the bodies out of the way only to have more fall in their place. After about fifteen minutes, Klutch could crawl inside the tube. He climbed upward out of sight.
He linked Tria and me. “Commander, it is possible to climb around the corpses and boost to the next deck. There is no sign of hostiles. I will wait until you join me.”
This time Tria happened to be in front of me. I gave her a couple of good swats on the butt and pushed her forward. She crawled in and disappeared up the tube. Several Quill bodies collapsed back down into the opening and I spent additional time clearing them.
Klutch got impatient and let me know about it. “Commander, I must caution you against taking a sleep period during combat, it is considered foolhardy behavior by the more advanced races.”
For reasons unknown to me, of all the Earth mannerisms adopted by my crew, levity and sarcasm seemed to have made it to the top of their lists before all others. Not necessarily in that order. I did know, however, when a Troop Master points out something he may have concerns about, it was wise to listen. I also knew he expected a timely and respectful response.
“ON MY WAY TROOP MASTER!”
Climbing the dismembered bodies, I engaged my gravity drive and went up to the next deck. Tria and Klutch had taken defensive positions at the opening. They were standing knee deep in bug corpses. Whatever the Crits had attempted to do on this deck must have been met by armored troops. There were no Chaalt among the dead. The room had three large pressure doors. All were battered but still sealed. I suspected what lay in wait on the other side of those doors would be very unhealthy for any who opened them before this siege was over.
The sounds of battle were louder now. I was going to step back to the tube and go up but jumped back when I was surprised by a couple of Quill bodies flashing by on the way to the bottom of the tube. Klutch took this as his opening to once again bump me aside, and up he went. I quickly followed with Tria right behind me. Klutch reached the top and immediately opened fire. I came out of the tube and was met with a barrage of glowing spikes. I was knocked to the floor by the continuous bombardment. The loud splattering impacts sounded like gravel falling on sheet metal.
Tria did not make the same mistake I did. She peeked up over the edge of the tube and put her arm out and unloaded anti-personnel rounds into the mass of Quill filling the corridor. The attention I had been getting slacked off enough for me to roll behind a pile of dead Quill soldiers. The Oolaran in me took over and I emptied an entire magazine of buckshot into the soldiers. Klutch was reloading and Tria came out of the tube and jumped to the floor beside me. The beast barely noticed and decided we were in enough cover to start pumping out high explosive munitions danger close. My teammates went prone and covered their heads. Quill body parts and shrapnel started raining down on us. I could just barely hear Klutch yelling at me to increase my range. The explosions were so sharp and jarring that my vision was blurring. Tria reached out and grabbed my arm with two of hers and forced it toward the ceiling, increasing the arc of my salvo. The concussive blasts eased to the point Klutch got up on a knee and poured rounds of buckshot head high into the crowd of bugs.
Tria linked with me and cleared her visor so I could see her face. “Nathan, cease fire and conserve your munitions. We may need it for what lies ahead!”
I quit firing and shook my head to clear my thoughts. Her look of concern and calm demeanor brought me back to reality. The beast shambled away to some dark corner of my mind. Tria reached out and wiped the bug juice from my visor and I cleared it so she could see that I was indeed back. She smiled, then got up on her knees and sent hellfire into the ranks of frenzied bugs. I got up beside her and we emptied several magazines of explosive buckshot into everythi
ng that moved. We quit firing because the pile of dead Quill was so large we could not directly engage the living. Tria bounced a few H.E. rounds off the ceiling and behind the mound. Body parts rained down once more. There was at least a hundred feet of no man’s land in front of us. The carnage was horrific and the damage to the passageway probably unrepairable.
Klutch made his way across the minefield of shattered bodies. Tria and I quickly followed. He climbed the back of the pile but hastily rolled off when glowing spikes started ripping the prone cadavers to pieces.
Klutch did not like what he saw on the other side of our only cover. “Commander, I believe we have their attention now. A considerable number are moving this way!”
To reinforce his statement, the volume of enemy fire intensified. Our barricade was being ground down to the consistency of sludge. Like it or not, it was going to be retreat or expend our dwindling supply of H.E. munitions. The beast laughed at my indecision. My arm came up and I unloaded a wicked long burst of forty high explosive rounds, walking them up the middle of the passageway. My team joined me with slow selective fire. Hatches along the passage were blasted open and piping on the walls and ceiling was ripped asunder. The overhead lighting the length of the corridor went dark.
The Crits changed their minds about charging us. They instead turned away. The respite from their assault encouraged the Oolaran in me to press the attack. The low-light targeting system of my H.U.D. made a surreal picture out of the mass of moving targets. I pulled my shotgun up and started putting explosive penetrator slugs into the backs of the retreating Quill. The beast was in control, and I started pursuing my prey. Tria yelled out to stop, but I felt compelled to do otherwise. Tria and Klutch had no choice but to follow. I emptied an entire magazine of needles into the faltering ranks, frenzying the crazed bugs even more. The results were gratifying, and I sent another barrage of needles into them, only stopping long enough to reload my empty weapons.
Tria and Klutch were being judicious with their munitions. The beast chose reckless abandon. My six magazines of needles were expended first. The H.E. and finally my anti-personnel rounds ran dry. I had four magazines of buckshot and seven of the penetrator slugs left in my weapons and pouches. Each time I wanted to unleash my beam weapon, moments of clarity reigned in the suicidal thoughts. I believe it had more to do with not wanting to harm my crewmates and less to do with self-preservation.
Coonts group linked us. “Commander, A Chaalt task force has entered the system. They are splitting up to pursue the remaining Quill ships and commencing rescue operations. Two are in route to our location. I will make them aware we have friendly forces aboard the Operative’s flagship.”
I could hear Tria acknowledge Coonts transmission, but the Oolaran devil wanted nothing to do with a possible cessation of hostilities. The front of my armor had been shot peened so thoroughly my bestial caricature was no longer visible. I was covered from head to toe in the steaming, bug-excreted acid. My armor was ripped open in several places. My suit liner was working hard to stop the corrosive effects of the acid. I could feel it burning my skin in several places. It remained to be seen how well the nano lamination of my epidermis could cope with the injuries. My shotgun had taken so many hits it was now only usable as a club.
I drew my fighting knife and drove myself headlong into the bug ranks. My crewmates quit firing into the melee and drew their knives and struggled to my sides. The bugs could no longer shoot at us, so they swelled in on us instead. For reasons unknown, the Crits seemed to be focusing their ire on me. It was as if they could hear the beast calling to them, egging them on. We fought back to back, smashing and slashing all comers. My Zaen armor was being pummeled like never before. The acid was destroying its structural integrity. Many of the blows I was taking would have broken normal bones. My carbon fiber reinforced skeletal system shrugged off the nonstop assault. The pain, however, was almost blinding at times. The beast was in the zone, and the smile on my face ached from the prolonged expression. The death and destruction from my dreams was here and it was real.
The world around me came back to a coherent focus. Klutch had his huge arms wrapped around me, attempting to pin my arms.
Tria put her hands on my helmet yelling at me repeatedly. “STOP NATHAN, WE HAVE KILLED THEM ALL!”
Klutch released his grip on me and stood at my side. Looking at my crewmates I saw they had been brutalized but fared much better than I. It took me a moment to realize I was on the verge of attacking Chaalt soldiers. The friendlies backed away from me. They had seen how I had slaughtered everything in my path and feared I might not be done. Now that the battle was over, emergency lighting was restored. I stood for a moment staring at the death around me. There was a wall of carnage encircling us. The mixture of bugs and Chaalt lying dead was horrifying. I cleared my visor and Tria’s look of concern finally eased.
A feeling of dread filled me. “Did I harm any of your people?”
“No Nathan, we stop — no Nathan, these soldiers had already fallen to the Quill.”
I closed my eyes tight and clenched my teeth. Tria looped her arms in mine, standing close at my side. The beast was appeased and disappeared to some dark corner of my mind. It left me to worry about my actions and did not care for the remorse I was feeling. I alone would take the blame for any fratricide caused by my wanton destruction. The ranks of Chaalt troops gathered around us and Sael Nalen limped forward. Her armor looked as bad as mine. She was still holding both of her swords. The pulsating glow from the blades still smoking from Quill blood and gore. She slid them into their scabbards. Her helmet was fractured and open on the side. She stopped in front of me and pulled it loose from her head and let it fall to the floor. The side of her face was badly burned by acid. She did not seem to notice.
She placed her hand on the side of my helmet. “I have never seen such a sight in combat. Your aura blinded the Crits that enveloped you, then it turned as black as the starless void. You slaughtered all who touched you.”
She let her hand fall from my helmet and she took a step back. She made fists with two of her hands and placed them across her chest giving me a slight bow as she did so. The remaining Chaalt troops did the same.
“The three of you did what many could not. We were cut off from reinforcements and our numbers were quickly dwindling. You honor those who have fallen and I thank you for all you saved. The Chaalt people will remember you, Nathan Myers.”
We were interrupted by a flood of armored Chaalt troops coming out of the lift tube. We turned to face them as they rapidly approached our position. Several stopped here and there to kill surviving Quill they encountered.
A troop leader marched up to us. “Kala Mor Dee, you have survived once more. For this we are thankful.”
Sael Nalen fixed the younger female warrior with a stare. “No one is to address me by that name ever again, do you understand?”
The troop leader was shocked and stood rigid. “Yes, Senior Operative!”
Sael Nalen looked around to make sure all understood. Then she turned back to the young warrior. “Did you secure the engineering spaces?”
The team leader quickly replied, “Yes, Senior Operative. The ship is now secure and teams are sweeping all accessible passages for hideaways. Engineering teams are trying to restore power to the main lifts and communication equipment. We are also trying to gain access to all personnel trapped in the lower decks and compartments. A salvage team is surveying the Quill spine and will determine how best to remove it.”
“What of my fleet?”
“Senior Operative, rescue operations are ongoing. We have accounted for eight warships. Five are capable of combat but have sustained heavy damage. Three will have to be taken in tow. They are drifting in the asteroid field and are in danger of further damage. On your order, I will pull picket ships from security patrols to help extricate them from the asteroid belt.”
The Senior Operative did not take the news well. She stood with her head bent and he
r eyes closed. She finally looked up at the younger Operative. “Pull the additional ships from picket duty and take the damaged ships in tow. Call up two emergency medical ships and two mobile ship yards. I want them here as soon as possible. There is an Oolaran warship close by, what is its status?”
“Unknown, Senior Operative. It appears to have significant damage. The A.I. of the vessel has warned off our boarding shuttles. We have taken a Coram-designed shuttle in restrictive tow. It is also damaged and the pilot refuses aid.”
“Release the shuttle at once and steer clear of the Oolaran warship. It will be approaching to recover personnel. No one is to interfere with its passage or impede its progress in any way. I want decontamination teams to immediately board and set up for class “C” contingencies. Priority will be given to these three soldiers. All will show them the utmost respect, and no one is to hinder them for any reason. Any who disobey my orders will be spaced.”
The young warrior’s eyes went wide and she turned away. She started issuing orders. A good portion of her troops rapidly disappeared down the transport tube. The rest lined the corridor on both sides, standing at attention.
Sael Nalen turned back to us. “I must check on the status of my wounded. If you need anything, let my subordinates know. If it is within my power, it will be yours.”
The Senior Operative called to her junior counterpart. “I am designating your vessel as my flagship.”
With that comment, the Operative limped away.
13
I took Tria by one of her hands and put my other on Klutch’s broad shoulder. The pain of combat eased with the reassuring contact. We looked at the Junior Operative. She waved one of her subordinates over.
“You are to escort these soldiers to the decontamination area. They are to be treated as Senior Operatives.”
The soldier nodded and led us to the transport tube. It was still inoperative. The Chaalt told us to go down one deck because the engineers were working to remove the spine from the lower one. We were forced to use a service ladder. Our armor was so badly damaged our gravity drives no longer functioned. We had been on the lower deck once before and it was closed up tight. Now the doors were open and we were led on a considerable walk through the Chaalt warship. The Junior Operative was yelling, “Make a hole!” whenever the passages became crowded. Everyone gave us a wide berth with the exception of one. Tria’s father stood staring. The shocked expression on his face turned to tears as we shuffled by. We finally arrived at a large hangar area. There had to be at least forty shuttles lined up in rows on each side of the immense hangar opening. They were taking off two at a time disappearing into the void on rescue missions. Just behind the shuttles were much larger boxy-looking spacecraft with multiple appendages. They had to be maintenance tugs. There were crews boarding them and preparing for launch. I was not sure if the Legacy would require their services.
