The Battle for Lashmere

by Michael Freeport

  “I doubt the Woduur are willing to adhere to our timeline just because we want them to,” Hanlon quipped. “Maybe we could ask nicely?”

  Stokes smiled slightly and said, “Glad to see your sense of humor hasn’t abandoned you, Captain. I’ll comm you when the stealth corvettes are moving out. You may begin your FTL transit in formation with the Ulef fleets.”

  “Aye, sir. See you at the first checkpoint.” Stokes nodded and the comm channel closed. She turned her attention to her executive officer. “Mister Watkins, plot the first leg of our trip. Coordinate with Leader to maximize our transit velocity.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dawn appeared above the central plot. “Captain Hanlon, my maximum velocity is only slightly more than that which the Ulef can achieve. The Woduur ships are much faster than I am over distances of up to three hundred lightyears. We must leave before they get any closer.”

  “Agreed. Mister Watkins bring the FTL drives online and begin our departure.”

  New Dawn was joined by three Ulef fleets as they moved to the edge of the system. Four stealth corvettes passed through their jump rings about ten minutes before the rest of Stokes’ fleet departed.

  The minutes passed with a growing sense of tension. No obvious movement was reported by the Ulef, but the Woduur would not stay put for long. At least their staging area was in nearly exactly the opposite direction of Lashmere. It would take some time for them to catch up, even with their speed advantage.

  New Dawn, surrounded by thousands Ulef ships leaped into faster than light travel as soon as they cleared the cometary shield. Their first three checkpoints with Stokes went relatively smoothly. At the fourth, Tolon reported they were being followed.

  Stokes watched the tactical plot carefully as Victorious emerged into the Lashmere system. Hanlon and the New Dawn were not far behind him. “Give me a full system scan. Contact Captain Charis and have him launch a full sensor net. All ships are to start manufacturing mines at their maximum rate. Have the stealth corvettes move the mines into position based on the approach vector of the Woduur as soon as all friendly ships have cleared the area.”

  Bendel acknowledged each order and started entering data into his console at a breakneck pace. A few seconds later, he said, “Captain Charis reports his drone network is launched and should be sending good data shortly. I’m getting a comm request from the surface.”

  “Put it up, Exec,” Stokes said.

  A moment later Admiral Coffee’s broad face appeared on the main plot. “Welcome home, Admiral. I hope you’ve arrived with a way to get these Woduur invaders off of Lashmere.”

  “I have. Not far behind me is a ship, built by our ancestors, that is capable of forcing the Woduur from the area. It uses a neural wave transmitter of some sort. We are also being followed by a force of at least twelve ring ships. We’re pouring everything we have into producing enough mines to cover the Woduur avenue of approach.

  “My crew has devised a defense against the Woduur weapon. It isn’t perfect, but we also have what should be a highly effective weapon of our own. The two should increase our combat effectiveness by at least an order of magnitude. Our simulations show us with a decisive advantage with the numbers currently on the board. Once the New Dawn arrives and begins to tilt the playing field in our favor, we should have a decisive advantage.”

  Coffee’s grim features relaxed while Stokes was speaking. “Good. Make your preparations. We’ve managed to make a breach in the ring that landed on Istyul City. Our Marines are in the process of liberating all of the captured citizens.”

  “The Woduur have been capturing humans?”

  “Yes. We don’t know why. We have recovered some people released by the Woduur. They have lost their ability to speak. Whatever the Woduur are doing, it’s not a gentle procedure.”

  Stokes shook his head. “Unfortunately, we don’t have time to try to figure out why right now. When New Dawn gets here, it will start driving the Woduur out.”

  “Very well, Admiral. We will coordinate our ground forces with whatever you need. Coffee out.”

  Stokes immediately busied himself in gathering up the orbiting remains of the Lashmere shipyard and pouring mines out in droves. Unfortunately, the time was short, and even with such an exclusive focus, he had far fewer mines than he’d have liked when New Dawn exited FTL at the edge of the system.

  The Ulef started slowing at the edge of the Lashmere system. The trip had been harrowing, taking more than three weeks and all of it with the sense of being only a single systems failure from confrontation with the Woduur. As they crossed over the Kuiper belt, Hanlon felt a knot of tension she’d been carrying loosen. That didn’t change the fact that the Woduur were still pursuing. At least here, they would have their chosen ground for the confrontation.

  As New Dawn slowed and began to maneuver on its sublight engines, Hanlon gave the order she’d held in anticipation for so long.

  “Dawn, initiate NEWT and begin transmission for Woduur specific interference.”

  “NEWT initiation underway, Captain. Updating the parameters requires the programming interlock. It can be inserted at the interface console.”

  Halon’s eyes dashed to the large, plain console. The large, shallow indentation at the top of the console over a single button now made sense. “Can you manufacture the programming interlock?”

  “Negative, Captain. The original key must be inserted before the NEWT can be updated.”

  “What?” Hanlon cried. “Why didn’t you tell me this before we got here?”

  “The interlock is on Lashmere, according to my records.”

  “What does it look like?”

  An image everyone on Lashmere was intimately familiar with appeared above the main plot. The programming interlock was the origin tablet. Housed at the Museum of Antiquities. In Istyul City.

  Aboard the Victorious, Stokes observed the arrival of Hanlon’s ship. Flanking the New Dawn on all sides were thousands of Ulef ships. More kept exiting FTL as they started to accelerate in-system. Stokes said, “Initiate a comms request to the New Dawn.”

  “Coming in now, sir,” Woodard said.

  Hanlon’s face appeared on the main plot. Her features were set in an expression somewhere between worry and desperation. “Admiral, we have a problem.”

  “What is it, Captain?”

  I can’t update the programming for the neural wave transmitter without a device the New Dawn calls the programming interlock. Fortunately, I know what the interlock is. It’s the origin tablet.”

  Stokes thrust himself out of the command chair. He heard gasps of surprise around him on the Victorious’ bridge. “What?”

  “We’re going to have to send a team into the Istyul City Museum to get it and bring it up here before I can change the parameters.” Hanlon’s shoulders slumped as she spoke.

  Stokes firmed his features and said, “Tell me this is some kind of joke.” He waved Hanlon off before she responded. “I’ll coordinate with Lashmere Naval Command to send in an infiltration team. Ground forces have recently managed to create a breach across the ring at Istyul City.” Stokes nodded sharply at Bendel, who started composing a message for Admiral Coffee. “For now, stay with the Ulef escort. Are they willing to fight, or are they just here to take over a moon?”

  “Not sure, sir. The only thing we agreed to is that they could come here and consume one of the moons.”

  Stokes checked the tactical display and saw the Ulef were staying in a defensive formation around New Dawn as it moved. “I’ll ask. Your highest priority is to keep that ship safe.”

  “Understood, Admiral. I’m ramping up the power with the current settings. That should at least make the Woduur uncomfortable enough to give us an edge, but it won’t force them out.”

  “Very good, Captain. Stokes out.”

  Bendel said, “I’ve sent a message with the particulars and a copy of your conversation with Captain Hanlon to Admiral Coffee. I hope they can get the origin t
ablet.”

  “Me too, Commander.”

  Chapter 32

  “Who here is Sergeant Valencia?”

  Valencia turned in the direction of the voice. There was still some fighting around the breach, but with the arrival of two divisions of Lashmere Marines, they had the situation under control for the moment. “I’m Valencia,” he said. A figure turned towards him, and he saw it was a uniformed Colonel. He offered a sharp salute, which the officer returned.

  “Sergeant, I am Colonel Elgin. I’m the commander of the breaching force. I understand you’ve been in command of the resistance inside Istyul City up to this point?”

  “Essentially, sir. I’m the highest ranking Marine in contact with the various survivor groups I’ve made contact with.”

  “You organized the breaching attack?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Give me a two minute brief on the situation inside the ring.”

  Valencia summarized the layout of the city and the activities they’d engaged in as best he could. After a moment, Elgin waved him to a stop.

  “Very good. I’m giving you a field promotion to first lieutenant. I need you to take command of a special force. As we were entering the breach, we got an interesting piece of information. Apparently, the Lashmere space fleet arrived in the system a few hours ago. They need us to get a very important artifact.”

  “Artifact? Sir?”

  “What I need you to do, Lieutenant, is take three platoons of special forces, lead them to the Museum of Antiquities and retrieve the Origin Tablet. Before you ask, no I don’t know why, I was only told that it is of the highest importance that the tablet is retrieved immediately.”

  “Um, okay, sir.” Valencia was truly stunned at the orders, but there was nothing a Marine was unwilling to do, even in the face of orders that made no sense. “I’ll get it done.”

  “Very good. I presume you want to bring a few people along with you?”

  “Just Cooper, my second. Sergeant Skorn was in charge of the surface attack.”

  Elgin nodded. “Good. Get your gear together. Your team is at point delta five. You move out in ten.”

  “Sir, one more thing. We’ve developed a jamming program that’s been very helpful.”

  Elgin gave Valencia a sharp look and said, “Upload it to my data node. I’ll have my techs take a look.”

  “Yes, sir,” Valencia replied and sent the program over.

  The colonel turned and strode away on to whatever task now demanded his attention. Valencia paced down the line and saw they’d already erected a standard layout bivouac. He found his team easily enough. After a few quick introductions, he stepped into a fresh suit of powered armor and got himself settled to lead three full platoons of the best the Lashmere Marines had to offer back into Istyul City.

  Valencia quickly updated their suits with the jamming program he’d been using for weeks. As soon as they cleared the no-go zone just inside the ring, he ordered everyone to secure their active suit sensors and rely on passives only.

  “Keep your visual scanning up. The Woduur use a lot of active sensors, so we should have plenty of warning, but keep your eyes open.” He received a chorus of affirmatives through the command circuit. The trek to the museum was short, barely more than a kilometer. The entry was shattered, and the lobby was a complete disaster.

  Valencia checked the map in the lobby to confirm their destination. He led his men and women up the stairs and towards the rear of the building. They entered the ancient history annex a few minutes later, their armored boots making a clatter of sound on the hard stone floors.

  “Passive contact, sir,” One of his platoon leaders said. “Looks like a standard patrol. Ten to twelve Woduur.”

  “Acknowledged. Four man drop back for rear-guard.” Valencia detailed half a platoon to drop back by about fifty meters to make sure the rest of the group was not approached without any warning.

  The rest of the Marines entered the room where the origin tablet was displayed. Valencia approached the case and stared at it. He’d been stationed in Istyul City for months before the invasion, and he hadn’t taken the time to come and see the ancient tablet. It was larger than he’d imagined, almost a meter long and roughly half that high. It was several centimeters thick.

  The display case was formidable. Heavy metal rails at each edge and reinforced glass surrounded the tablet. He braced his armored boots and tried to rip the frame apart. It twisted slightly but did not give. Sighing, he reached behind one shoulder and brought out a long prybar. He inserted the clawed end and started to work it into the seam between the glass and the metal frame.

  “Somehow, I feel wrong doing this,” he muttered to himself as he worked. The prybar made the task relatively easy, and the frame came apart after only a few minutes of careful leverage. One of the other Marines came and gently lifted the tablet into a protective sleeve, which was then deposited into Valencia’s backpack.

  He got his prybar back into its strap and started to head back the way they’d come. A sudden chatter of gunfire sounded ahead of them. “Contact twenty plus,” came the hurried report from the rear-guard team.

  “One and two double-time. Back up the rear guard. Three stays with me.”

  Twelve Marines dashed out of the room, weapons already shouldered and ready to fire. Valencia kept Cooper and his team with him as he advanced more slowly. The intensity of gunfire increased and several grenades went off in close succession. The shockwaves caused priceless art to fall to the ground in tatters.

  Woduur body parts were flung about the hallway as Valencia approached the firing line. He got his rifle up and into position. A short burst helped drop one of the attacking Woduur.

  “Active sensors, people. Something tells me they already know where we are.”

  His suit display bloomed with fresh data almost immediately. None of it was good. There were at least a hundred Woduur moving into the building to back up the surviving eight they were currently engaging.

  He brought up a floorplan and quickly chose a chokepoint behind them with what looked like good cover. He updated his tactical map with a rally marker and then said, Strategic withdrawal to point alpha. Cover by pairs.”

  The special forces, consummate warriors they were, moved like fluid death as they backed down the hallway, their guns never resting. Once into the choke point, Valencia detailed several of his Marines to bring benches and other furniture to erect crude barricades and to provide additional concealment.

  As they got the barricades in place, a wave of Woduur flooded around the corner some distance down the wide corridor. Every gun in all three platoons went into rapid fire. Woduur dropped almost as fast as they could come around the corner, but they kept coming. A pile of Woduur bodies five deep lay across most of the hallway. The Woduur were getting a lot of hits, too. Several Marines lay with smoking holes in their torsos. Their life monitors showed they were dead. No one paused to grieve; they kept working their rifles as fast as possible.

  “Keep holding people. It looks like there are less than thirty of them left. We’ve already weathered the worst of it.” Valencia felt his words were unneeded as he spoke. A few seconds later, the world tilted around him, and his shoulder armor reported critical damage with minor function impairment. He tried to bring his rifle up, but the servos were damaged. He held the rifle out in his left hand, trying to fire as accurately as possible.

  More Marines fell under the intense fire put down by the Woduur. They were advancing down the hallway as well. They were getting close. With a suddenness no one expected, they surged forward, and the remaining twenty were among them, crashing through the barricade as though it wasn’t even there. Valencia watched as one Marine was shot from three different directions at point blank range. Valencia put his rifle into rapid fire and gunned all three Woduur down, but another two started towards him. His eyes slid across his status display. Most of his team was gone.

  He was flung from his feet by an impact to hi
s left leg. He spun with the blow and tried to protect the tablet by landing on his butt. A Woduur was looming over him. He brought his left arm up and began to aim at the Woduur, but it kicked out with one of its legs, knocking his aim off. For the second time, he was staring death in the face at the wrong end of a Woduur rifle. The Woduur jerked, and Cooper landed on its back. Even without an open comms circuit, Valencia could hear his second’s battle shriek as he poured rounds into the alien’s back. Valencia jumped to his feet and got his rifle onto the next Woduur approaching. The remaining nine Marines were beginning to cluster in a semicircle against the advancing Woduur.

  Cooper stood directly in front of him, his rifle chattering into an advancing Woduur. The Woduur charged Cooper and snatched a long knife from its back. The knife plunged into Cooper’s chest, and Valencia watched in horror as his friend’s status display winked from green to crimson, signifying a mortal wound.

  “No! No no no no no!” Valencia’s vision swam and everything was painted with a red haze. His rifle moved of its own volition, burying three rounds into the creature’s skull. Valencia ran forward, his voice transmitting over his external speaker. An incoherent scream of rage and frustration shrieked out of the front of his suit. Two Woduur dropped as suddenly as he was upon them, their heads blown clear of their bodies. The floor was covered in blood, both blue and red, along with the oil that lubricated the Woduur systems.

  His booted feet pounded as he charged at the three remaining Woduur. The gun was suddenly empty. Valencia dropped it and launched himself at the Woduur monster in front of him. The creature was unprepared for such an aggressive attack.

  He wrapped his legs and right arm around the Woduur’s upper torso, and he began to hammer at the thing’s face with his left fist with all the strength he could muster. It flailed wildly, trying to dislodge the much smaller human before it was pummeled to death, but it had no chance.