Embers of War (Adventures of the Starship Satori Book 8)

by Kevin McLaughlin

  Something dark moved near her. Beth still had her rifle, and she fired again. Whatever it was lashed out at her, raking her right leg with something that felt like a set of knives were being drawn across her body. Something smashed into her chest and pushed her against the bottom of the pool.

  Blinded by pain, unable to draw a breath, Beth brought the muzzle of her rifle in against the thing holding her down. She depressed the firing stud once - then again - and then a third time.

  The thrashing stopped. The monster on top of her was just a dead weight now, but even that was enough to keep Beth pinned beneath the water. She could see flashes of light from the surface now - more grenades and gunfire from the battle above. The pool was only knee deep, she remembered. But even inches away from breathing air was enough to drown her if she couldn't free herself.

  Beth's lungs were burning. She twisted, trying to get herself loose from the monstrous insect. It had hooked teeth and claws into her body armor, trying to chew through the stuff to get to her. It hadn't managed to cut through, but in death it was still attached to her chest. Heaving with all the strength she had remaining, Beth strained to get her face above the surface. Even half a second might let her inhale a precious gulp of air.

  But her strength was failing. She couldn't move the thing fastened to her chest armor. It was holding her down. She thrashed for a moment trying vainly to break free, but it didn't do her any good.

  Blackness was crowding around the edge of her vision. She'd almost asphyxiated in space before, but never under water. It was a new and terrifying experience. Lungs burning, every fiber of her being crying for her to own her mouth and take a breath of something, anything, Beth forced her mind to be still. She fought through the panic and calmed her thoughts. Fear wasn't going to get her out of this. Her mind was the best tool she had.

  The pool was shallow, and it grew shallower still not far from where she lay. If she couldn't lift the monster up off her, perhaps she could roll it? The things were like giant centipedes, after all. Beth heaved, shoving her entire body weight off to her right. The insect's body turned with her, spinning a full turn in the water. Beth caught a brief gasp of air, precious fresh air, as her head left the water at the top of the roll. Then she was back under the dead insect again. But the water was shallower now. She could almost get her face clear.

  There! She could lift her head just enough to breathe freely again. All around her explosions and shouts echoed through the chamber. Her people were in trouble. Now that Beth could breathe again, she could see how the insect's jaws had latched into her armor. She wasn't getting it loose anytime soon. Instead, she unbuckled the straps on her sides and slid free of the chest plate. That let her slither out from beneath the thing's dead weight.

  Beth rose to her feet. A short distance away was her rifle. She must have dropped it when she rolled. She picked it up and lifted the weapon to her shoulder. One of the insects saw her and rushed her way. Beth snapped off three shots in rapid succession and then stepped to the side, letting the dead bulk of the bug she'd killed crash past her into the pool.

  Grenades exploded to her left. The people there were hard pressed. She started that way, hoping her friends were all right. It looked like some of the fiercest combat was happening up ahead, where Charline and Andy had been.

  "Focus on the big one!" Beth shouted. She fired as she closed with it, shooting one round after another into the thing. It was enormous, bigger even than most of the other giant bugs had been. As she watched it shrugged off her shots and darted its jaws forward, slicing one of her security team in half with razor mandibles.

  But the other two soldiers heard her and blasted the thing with SABOT grenades. Beth got in a lucky shot and nailed one of its eyes. The insect made a high, keening noise and whirled at her.

  It rose up like a giant serpent, preparing to strike.

  Beth fired from directly beneath it, tapping the trigger button as rapidly as it would engage. She was screaming loud enough to match the monster's cry.

  And then it crashed backward, falling against a stone wall. It thrashed twice when it hit the ground, but Beth thought it was already dead.

  Around the room, she heard a few more shots fired, but the battle seemed to be over. Beth sagged to her knees, keeping a careful watch for any other signs of danger. A pause in the fighting didn't mean it was over, but she had a sense that they'd finished the bugs off. The ones in this den, anyway.

  "Report in," Beth said. "We get them all?"

  "Seems like it," Ayala replied. "That was a lot more of them then we were expecting."

  Beth reached down to her thigh, which suddenly hurt. Her hand came away wet and red. That first bug had sliced her pretty good there before she'd taken it out. She was beginning to feel light-headed, a sure sign of blood loss. Time to get out.

  "Pull back to the surface. Bring any wounded with you. We'll finish the survey once we get people patched up," Beth said.

  Then she turned to one of the soldiers. "I'm one of the wounded. One of you want to give me a hand? I'm not sure I can stand on this leg right now, let alone walk."

  Three men practically fell over themselves to come to her assistance. Beth let them fuss. One of them applied a field dressing to slow the bleeding, then the other two hoisted her up to her feet and helped her back toward the spiral ramp.

  Beth felt dizzy and a little nauseated, but also relieved. She'd faced the damned things yet another time, and she hadn't faltered. She'd beaten them again. Something niggled at the back of her brain, though. The insects had laid a trap. They'd all been waiting on the ceiling. They all struck at the same moment. She'd seen them trick Ayala's team in much the same way back on the moon, but she'd chalked it up to not understanding them, and Ayala getting unlucky.

  This was different. Today they'd used deliberate tactics. That implied a lot more intelligence than she'd given them credit for. It meant these bugs were much more dangerous than anyone had guessed. Was that cave the only pocket of them surviving on Dust? Or were there more, someplace else? And when would they strike next?

  Thirteen

  Dan made his way through the ship, following the long central corridor. The Independence was huge. It had to be, to host its own fighter wing, but that sometimes meant moving from one part of the ship to another took a lot longer than he liked.

  Once they were safely back in hyperspace, he’d decided it was time to get answers to some critical questions. Of course, ‘safely’ was a misnomer now. He knew full well that they had a new adversary capable of not merely detecting them while they were in hyperspace, but armed with weapons capable of somehow knocking them back into regular space.

  He didn’t even know how they’d managed it. Nothing about the attack made sense as far as their understanding of the physics behind hyperspace went. The attack on the Independence shouldn’t have been possible at all. Which was a chilling thought, because it had happened. Energy shields, powerful weapons, and wormhole technology - whoever this race was, they were a serious threat.

  The only being aboard the ship likely to produce useful intel on the new enemy was Garul. It gave Dan a little savage glee to have the roles so wholly reversed. He’d been Garul’s prisoner once. The Naga hadn’t seemed to take any particular pleasure from torturing Dan for information, but he hadn’t refrained either. Now the tables were turned, and he couldn’t help feeling a small sense of satisfaction, no matter how much his rational mind rebelled from the idea.

  “On your way to the brig?”

  Dan looked up. Colonel Martelle was leaning against the wall ten feet ahead of him.

  “Good guess. Figured I would be coming this way?” Dan asked.

  Martell nodded. “After that attack, we need answers. No better place to get them. You have a plan?”

  “I intend to appeal to Garul’s better nature,” Dan said, baring his teeth.

  Martelle laughed. “And when that doesn’t work?”

  Dan hesitated. He didn’t want to resort t
o torture, but what if that was the only way to get the information out of the Naga? Having more intelligence on the enemy might be crucial to Earth’s survival. Was it worth holding to his moires if it risked the planet?

  At the same time, could he trust himself to know he was only hurting the Naga out of necessity, and not for vengeance?

  “He’s on board this ship, too. If they hit us again, I don’t know that we’ll be able to repel them as easily,” Dan said. “I think our attack style surprised them last time. They saw a Naga ship and were expecting Naga weapons and tactics. But we’ve armed the Independence with Earth weapons as well. It was those that made the difference.”

  “Next time they’ll be better prepared,” Martelle said.

  Dan nodded. “Precisely. We need to know who they are and what they can do. If we don’t? Well, Garul’s silence could kill him. He struck me as being more pragmatic than that.”

  “Fair enough,” Martelle said. “I’m willing to take a tougher line if needs arise, though.”

  “Understood,” Dan said. He relaxed a little. The Marine colonel was taking the bad cop role, letting him be the one offering the carrot instead of the stick. “Let’s try my way first.”

  The two men entered the brig. An airman on duty saluted. Dan shook his head. The mashup of services on board this ship was going to cause problems if they didn’t find a better way to organize things soon. He hoped Hereford had luck getting the Space Service approved. At the moment there were Marines, airmen, Air Force pilots, civilians, and more all poured together like a stew.

  It wasn’t the mix that was at issue. Air Force and Marines had always been a bit at odds with one another, but they could still work together. The more significant problem was the methods of work. Put a Marine platoon someplace with Air Force aerial support, and you were fine. But mix half a platoon of Marines with half a platoon of Air Force security, and you were bound to have small mistakes in communication. In a battle, that could cost them.

  Dan nodded to the airman. “We’re here to check in with the Naga captain.”

  “Understood, sir,” the airman replied. Then to Martelle, he added, “You’ll need to leave your sidearm here though, sir. No weapons in with the prisoners.”

  “No worries, kid,” Martelle said. He unbelted the pistol from his side and laid it on the desk. “I know how this works.”

  They made their way down the hall of the brig. The area housed a lot of cells. More than Dan could imagine a human ship of this size ever needing. But there were a lot of Naga prisoners. Most of them had opted to go out in a blaze of glory, fighting to the bitter end. But they’d managed to capture dozens anyway, out of the thousand or so who had originally crewed the three ships sent to conquer or destroy Earth.

  All of those prisoners - forty-three in all - were aboard his ship. Dan grimaced at that number. Technically, about a sixth of his ship’s compliment was enemy POWs, a fact which didn’t make him happy at all. That he had just as many Marines aboard under Martelle’s command was the only thing that eased his mind a bit. He’d put one of those Marines against a Naga any day, and bet on the human.

  Finally, the men stopped in front of Garul’s cell. Each prisoner was held in their own small cell space, to keep them separate from one another, the better to prevent them conspiring in a takeover of the ship. Garul especially needed to be sequestered from his fellow Naga. He was a warlord, a Naga of enough rank and prestige that Dan thought he’d have an easy time taking charge of the prisoner population, given any opportunity.

  Dan pressed his palm against the panel outside Garul’s cell. The door opened with an audible snap as it slid into the wall. The space inside was small. A prisoner given to pacing would be thwarted by the sparse setting. But Garul was not a pacer, it seemed. He lay on the bed which dominated the far wall of the space. Together with a wall mounted unit for disposal of Naga waste, they were the only furnishing in a room which was otherwise bare metal.

  Garul uncoiled himself from the bed and rose as the door opened. Beside him Dan could feel Martelle stiffen, preparing to deal with the physical threat the Naga represented if the need arose. Dan didn’t think it would, though. He felt like he’d grown to understand Garul, if not Naga in general. Oh, he was confident Garul would act in his own interest - and against that of humanity - if given an opportunity. But he was on his way home. If anyone was at risk during this trip, it was Dan and his crew more than the Naga they were escorting, and Garul knew that.

  “Wynn,” Garul hissed, trying to make the English syllables work. “Fight?”

  Dan pulled a small tablet from his pocket. He didn’t have time for Garul to play games with his speaking ability. How much the Naga could really say in English, Dan wasn’t sure. But he did know the Naga warlord would game that theoretical lack of knowledge for all it was worth given half a chance. He powered on the tablet and activated Majel’s translation program.

  “We were attacked, yes,” Dan said. The tablet repeated his words in Naga. Garul didn’t need that. The Naga retained the translation being attached inside his ear. Removing the little slug-like beings was a complex process that could injure it, so they’d opted to leave it in. Its ability to translate words spoken around it directly into the wearer’s mind was useful for communicating with Garul, anyway.

  But it was worth seeing Garul’s nostrils flare as he heard the little machine speaking Naga at him, anyway. It was the equivalent of a human raising his eyebrows, Dan had learned. He’d surprised Garul. That was a good thing. This was one being Dan intended to keep off balance as much as possible. Garul was smart enough to realize how much information they had to have about the Naga to make such a program possible.

  “Speak thing?” Garul said.

  “Translator,” Dan replied. “You can speak in Naga.”

  Garul said something unintelligible, a series of hisses and clicking sounds.

  “Remarkable that simple mammals have been able to accomplish such a thing,” the translator said, in its steady British accent.

  “We’re good at being remarkable,” Dan said. “And we were attacked. How did you know?”

  “I felt the ship shake. It’s not the first time I’ve been on a battlecruiser during a fight, you know,” Garul replied in Naga. He was no longer even trying to speak in English, allowing the translation software to do the work for him. “Why did you drop from hyper?”

  “We didn’t. The attacker knocked us out of hyperspace with a weapon we've never seen before,” Dan said.

  Garul’s nostrils flared again. “Then it is true.”

  “What is?” Dan asked.

  “The Kkiktchikut have returned.”

  Fourteen

  Safe aboard the Satori at last, Beth winced as Doctor Saldanha applied a topical anesthetic to her leg, and then sutured closed the three long gashes that the insect had raked into her thigh. She looked down, watching the work with the curious eyes of an engineer, and then quickly turned her head away. Her stomach wasn’t feeling up to observing the stitches going in.

  “You’ll be right as rain in a few days,” Saldanha said. “But try not to push the leg too hard in the meantime.”

  “I’ll do what I can, but,” Beth said, shrugging.

  “But you’re the captain, and you’ll do whatever you think needs doing,” he replied. “I understand. But this leg needs rest. Or nanites. I could speed your recovery along if you’d let me…”

  “No,” Beth said, her voice firm. She’d been dosed with healing nanites twice now. Both times she’d had no problems at all with the treatment. But she still couldn’t get used to the idea of having little robots crawling around inside her. If she needed them to save her life, that was one thing. But for convenience? She’d stick to the old-fashioned remedies.

  “Very well,” Saldanha replied. “I’ve done what I can for you. Take two of these pills every six hours if you need to, for pain. And this one daily for a week to ward off infection. No telling what was in that water, so we’ll need to w
atch the wound carefully a few days.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” Beth replied, rising from the med-bay bed. She tested the leg, putting weight on it gingerly at first. It was moving fine, but she could feel a little tug against the skin as her movement put pressure on the stitches.

  “Off you go, then. I have other patients,” the doctor said, making a shooing motion with his hands.

  He did have more than enough on his hands without worrying about her. They’d lost six members of the team, and had ten injuries. Six of those were severe. They’d been stabilized, but she would need to get them back to Earth as rapidly as possible. They needed better care than the Satori’s bay could give them, even as good as their little field hospital was.

  “Majel, where is Ayala?” Beth asked as she exited the infirmary.

  “In the cargo hold. Debating Andy and Charline. Vociferously.”

  “I’m on my way,” Beth said.

  She entered the cargo bay a scant minute later. Andy and Ayala could be heard all the way down the hall. Whatever they were discussing, it had grown heated enough that they were close to yelling at one another. The room was still packed with scores of would-be colonists, most of whom were quietly pretending they were not listening, while at the same time carefully bending an ear to every word.

  “The site is clear. We should move in and secure it while we can,” Andy said.

  “That room was clear. When we left it. There’s no guarantee it remains so,” Ayala said, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. “Nor that the rest of the complex is safe. How many crew have to die to clear that hive out for you?”

  They both froze as Beth walked over. She kept her limp to a minimum. No sense giving Ayala’s argument more visible merit than she intended. But she was limping, despite her best efforts to disguise the severity of the wound. She had a funny feeling that was part of why Ayala was so perturbed, that he was upset his captain had been injured in the assault. How far they’d come from the first meeting, where his reaction to her was someplace in the zone between barely cordial and openly mutinous!