“You wound me,” Loki said, “but my honor is pure. I said I wouldn’t use my ship’s weapons against you, and I haven’t. They have been offline the entire time.”
“When we get the ship back under our control, I’m coming for you, Loki.”
“Why wait? I’m on your bridge, sitting on your chair. Unfortunately, it is not big enough for me to sit in as it looks like it would be comfortable.”
“Enjoy the view. Too bad nothing’s working for you.”
“But it will,” Loki said. “Once we get into engineering, it will.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Task Force O’Leary, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Jotunheimr System, December 23, 2021
Lieutenant O’Leary peeked around the corner in time to see a pair of enormous horizontal legs go around the next corner. “Contact,” he commed. “The Jotunn have some kind of anti-gravity sled they are sitting on; that’s how they’re moving around the ship.” He hadn’t thought about it before, but the ceilings weren’t tall enough for the giants to stand. They would have had to crawl on their hands and knees…or ride anti-gravity sleds. Maybe the Jotunn were smarter than he had given them credit for.
He ran to the next corner and peered around. “Fuck!” he yelled as he dove back from the next passageway.
“Okay, this sucks,” O’Leary commed. “There are two Jotunn sitting side-by-side on anti-gravity sleds. They’re each holding big-ass shields and some sort of shotgun-like weapon. Behind them are two other giants armed with the same shotgun-like weapons, who are firing over the shields of the first rank. There are more giants on the other side of them, breaking into Aft Steering. At least four or five of them. Aside from an awful lot of high explosives, I don’t see any way we’re going to stop them.”
There had to be a better way; taking on the Jotunn in a frontal-assault was going to get a lot of people killed, including himself, and even then, there was no guarantee they could breach the Jotunn’s defenses. He called up the Vella Gulf’s schematics on his in-head display, but he didn’t see any way over, under or around the Jotunn.
“Solomon, Lieutenant O’Leary,” he commed; “is there any way to get to Aft Steering without going down the next passageway?”
“There is a shaft in the overhead that my maintenance robots use to repair the cable runs,” the AI replied; “however, it is extremely narrow and nearly all of your platoon won’t be able to fit through it.”
“How many of my troops can make it?”
“Just one; if Staff Sergeant Loftis removes most of her gear, she may fit through the access shaft. In addition to the shaft being narrow, there is also a blind switchback she will have to negotiate. It will be most difficult for her to complete the maneuver. I believe it will be impossible for anyone else.”
“Did you hear that, Loftis?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, I did,” Canary replied. “I hate narrow places, especially in the dark, but I’m willing to try it rather than going into the maws of the Jotunn’s shotguns.” The entry port for the access shaft appeared about 15 feet away on the map in her head.
Staff Sergeant Loftis sat down underneath the hatch and took off her gear, then she threw some of her equipment into a small bag and stood up. “Ready,” she said.
A couple of the troops gave her a boost up to the hatchway. She took off the cover and handed it down. “Damn, it’s dark,” Canary said, sticking her head up through the port. She looked around inside.
“I’m going to need a light source,” she added. “Can someone hand me up my cell phone?”
“A cell phone?” Lieutenant O’Leary asked. “Why the fuck do you have a cell phone in outer space?”
“Some of the apps are really helpful,” Canary replied with a shrug. “Like now.”
Valkyrie handed her the phone, and Canary turned on the flashlight app and pushed the phone down the narrow shaft in front of her. Valkyrie handed Canary her gear bag and her rifle, and she slid them down the duct after the phone. Just those few items made the shaft seem even smaller than it had before.
Canary slid the pile forward again and climbed into the shaft. Damn, it was narrow. She hated confined areas, and this wasn’t even as wide as her shoulders, which touched both sides of the passageway at the same time. The walls became even narrower in front of her, and it looked like she would have to go through sideways. Damn!
She had no idea what kind of robot could negotiate the twists and turns, but they had to be pretty darn flexible. Trying not to think any more about the size of the ducting or the need for speed, Canary began sliding down shaft, the walls pressing in on her from both sides. She tried to slow her breath. It was narrow, but she thought she could make it.
Until she reached the ‘S’ turn.
“Solomon, I don’t think I can fit through the next section,” she commed, “and I know my rifle can’t. Is there another way around?”
“No, there is not,” the AI replied. She could hear banging beneath her. “It is not much further, but you have to make it through that section.”
Fuck. Tears brimmed in her eyes. There was no way she could make it through. The banging beneath her grew louder. She struggled forward to make the attempt, forcing herself through the corner until she was totally wedged into the center of the turn. She was almost through the narrowest part, but due to the angle, her boot couldn’t get enough purchase to push her the rest of the way through. She couldn’t go any further forward…and in a moment of panic, she realized she couldn’t get back out either.
She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from screaming and realized it had grown quiet. The banging below her had ceased, which was even more ominous. The boost of adrenaline helped her wriggle three fingers free. Blowing out all of her breath to become as small as possible she used the three fingers to push herself back out of the narrows.
Still quiet. Canary frantically removed her boots with the one hand that was in a position to reach the lower part of her body. Her numb fingers struggled with the laces, but worked them free. Her traction improved, she was able to work her way through the turn, and she made it to the access hatch into engineering without further difficulty.
Her breath roared in her ears, and she struggled to control it as she lifted up the cover. She set the lid aside, dreading what she would see, but was energized to see the space was Jotunn-free. Instead, a burly chief worked on some piping while a junior seaman stood idly by, awkwardly shifting from one foot to another. She let her legs swing into the opening, then slid through on her stomach, both hands tightly gripping the bag and her phone as she dropped the rest of the way to the floor.
“Ow!” she exclaimed, landing awkwardly on the steel deck.
At the sound of her cry, the chief spun around, holding his wrench like a club, and she could see the stars on his anchor insignia.
“Uh, hi, Master Chief,” she said. “I’m here to help.”
Seeing the short, barefoot girl clutching a camouflage bag and cell phone, the master chief lowered his wrench and barked a short laugh.
“I’d love a little assistance,” he said, nodding at the other sailor; “Matthews here isn’t worth half a cup of warm spit. I’m not sure how you’re going to help, though. What are you going to do, call 9-1-1 for me?”
Canary saw where he was looking and held up her phone. “Oh, this was just to help get me here,” she said, opening her bag; “this is what I brought to help.”
Master Chief gave a low whistle of appreciation as she pulled a number of grenades and two pistols from the bag.
“I’ve found that most extraterrestrial problems can be solved with the proper application of high explosives,” Canary noted.
“I’m sure you have,” the master chief murmured. Even lower, he added, “And I’m glad I’m not one of your problems.”
Canary surveyed the area, frowning. “So…what else do you have to defend the space?”
“Well, I was going to hit them with some steam,” he said, pointing to the pipe he had shifted. “But it�
��s not something I want to do unless I absolutely have to, and it’s not something I can do for very long.”
“Why’s that?”
“The steam in that pipe is 700 degrees and it’s pressurized to 3,000 PSI. If we start dumping it in here, it’s going to get hot, fast. It’ll be worse if you’re actually hit with the steam blast, like I hope the Jotunn will be, but it will start to suck in here pretty fast, even if you’re not.”
“Okay, so the steam option’s the last resort,” Canary said. She turned to Matthews. “And what have you got?” she demanded.
“Me?” the sailor asked in a squeaky voice. “I’m just waiting to see what Master Chief wants me to do.”
“Boys,” Canary said with a sigh and a shake of her head. “It’s so hard to get them to do anything that involves thinking.” She turned back to the senior sailor. “Okay, so the grenades are our best bet, but I don’t want them going off next to me. I’ve got strict orders to kill several of the Jotunn before I’m allowed to die.”
She inspected the hatch critically as it boomed with repeated contacts from outside. It wasn’t going to last much longer; there was already a small gap at the top where the seal had been broken.
“Think you could open that long enough for me to throw a couple of grenades through, then get it shut again quickly?”
“If it means the difference between the grenades going off out there rather than in here, you’re damn well right I can,” he said.
“We need something to get them off the door first. I don’t want them grabbing the door and holding it when you open it. Hmmm…maybe I can have the squad create a diversion.”
“I’ve got just the thing,” Master Chief Agejew said, pulling on a rubber glove. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Taking a grenade in both hands, she checked the settings and pulled out the pins with her teeth. She spat them out and gave him a predator’s grin. “Ready.”
Task Force Contreras, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Jotunheimr System, December 23, 2021
Second Lieutenant Cristobal Contreras checked his in-head display as the group jogged toward the bridge. All nine members of his force were operational.
“Solomon,” he commed, “can I get a status update on the Jotunn force assaulting the bridge?”
“There are 10 Jotunn in the vicinity of the bridge,” the AI replied. “I believe six are on the bridge and four are in the passageways, with two guarding each entrance.”
“You believe?”
“The Jotunn continue to destroy my sensors, so my analysis has an inherent margin of error included in it, currently estimated at 7.2%. I am 89.6% confident there are 10 Jotunn in the vicinity of the bridge. Based on the size of the bridge, I do not estimate more than six Jotunn would fit comfortably in the space with the vehicles they are using to move about the ship. That estimate is based on the amount of space the median Terran is comfortable with, extrapolated upwards to the size of the Jotunn and the number of voices and the sounds of breathing currently audible. I am fairly confident in that estimate, but it could be plus or minus two.”
“Is the CO safe?”
“Yes, the entire bridge crew escaped before the bridge was captured. The bridge crew is currently waiting in the escape pods, but have not yet jettisoned.”
“Can you tell what the Jotunn are doing?” Contreras asked. “Can they operate the ship?”
“Before the CO left, he transferred ship’s control to Aft Steering and deactivated the bridge, so the Jotunn on the bridge are unable to operate any of the bridge consoles. They are waiting for Engineering to fall; when the Jotunn capture Aft Steering, they will be able to control the ship.”
“Are they likely to capture Aft Steering?”
“The Jotunn force is far larger than the defending force. It is likely they will succeed in capturing it.”
“We need to hurry then.”
“That is a logical conclusion.”
Task Force Dantone, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Jotunheimr System, December 23, 2021
Gunnery Sergeant Patrick “The Wall” Dantone led the way to the ship’s Weapons Control facility at a jog. It was simply more practical for the cyborg to lead; despite the CO’s instructions, a large number of the ship’s crew were milling in the passageways. Worse, they didn’t always move out of the way, despite an amplified call to “make a hole.” When they were too slow clearing his path, he simply smashed his way through without slowing, leaving a trail of injured sailors in his wake. Medical would be busy tomorrow…if there was a tomorrow.
The Wall checked the vital signs of his fire team as he scanned ahead for enemies. He had been multitasking a lot more recently. Whether that was because his “body” required a great deal less thought, both conscious and unconscious, to operate, he didn’t know. Perhaps, freed from these tasks, his brain was reprogramming itself to utilize the additional processing power. While the ability to complete a number of tasks simultaneously was cool, the thought that his brain was becoming more…robotic…and that he might be losing some of his humanity was troubling.
If they survived, he would have to talk to someone about it, although he wasn’t sure who. Anyone in the military was probably out; he didn’t want to risk being thought crazy. He wasn’t crazy. If anything, he was operating more efficiently than the biologicals. Talking to Medical was definitely out. While having a machine-to-almost-machine conversation with the medibot would be instructional, it was even more dangerous than talking with someone in the military. Not only was there the risk of a “crazy” diagnosis, the eccentric medibot might decide his condition was worthy of study and give him a medical discharge or put him on a limited duty status.
Neither of these options bore further consideration. He wasn’t going to do anything that would get him kicked out of the platoon while the war was on, especially if it turned him into a lab rat. Not. Going. To. Happen. He had neither asked for nor wanted his undead status, but if he could use it to ensure it didn’t happen to anyone else, he would.
Sergeant Jamal ‘Bad Twin’ Gordon was falling behind. Extra PT would be required to bring him up to standards. He added the thought to his mental “To Do” list.
The scent of Jotunn pheromones was growing stronger as he approached Weapons Control. Based on the rate of change, they would already be in the facility by the time the Terrans arrived. Caution was indicated. The Wall slowed, which had the secondary benefit of allowing Sergeant Gordon to catch up.
“The Jotunn have reached the facility,” he commed. “We will need to exercise caution. For those of you who have never been here, this is where the ship’s weapons are assembled. Mark your targets and do not shoot anything that looks like it might be an anti-ship warhead. If you do, well, it won’t matter to you, since you’ll be dead…as will the rest of us.”
“What do the warheads look like?” Sergeant Anne ‘Fox’ Stasik asked.
“No idea,” The Wall replied. “They don’t look like Jotunn though; that much I know. If it is big and looks like a giant, kill it; otherwise, don’t. Got it?”
“Yes, Gunny!” the group agreed.
“Good,” The Wall replied. “There’s probably going to be as many of them as there are of us, so don’t do anything stupid that’s going to leave the rest of us more shorthanded than we already are.”
Dantone slowed to a human’s walking pace then stopped at the next corner. Motioning the group to hold their position, he eased out into the passageway then jumped back.
“All right, boys and girls,” he said, “we’re in some serious shit here.”
Engineering, TSS Vella Gulf, Anti-Jotunheimr System, December 23, 2021
“How’s it coming, Staff Sergeant?” Lieutenant O’Leary commed.
Damn, Canary thought, I forgot to check in. She held up a finger to Master Chief indicating he should wait a minute.
“Good, sir. I made it to Aft Steering without too much difficulty although I had to leave my rifle in the overhead. There are two other people here. We’re
about to hit the Jotunn with grenades; you may be able to hit them while they’re distracted.”
“We’ll be ready.”
Canary met Master Chief Agejew’s eyes. “Sorry, the boss called. They’re going to hit the Jotunn from behind when we get their attention. Hopefully, they can break through to us.” She nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“What about me?” Seaman Matthews asked.
“What do you mean, ‘what about you?’” Canary asked.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Do you know how to use a laser pistol?”
“Umm…no. Is it hard?”
One of the pins on the hatch snapped in half and went flying. The hatch now hung askew, leaving a big enough gap that Canary could see the pale blue eyes of a giant as it peered through.
“No time!” Master Chief yelled. “Get to the steam line and be ready to pull the handle if I tell you!”
The giant hit the hatch again, and the remaining pin bent. The gap in the hatch was now at least six inches wide and one of the giants stuck the barrel of his gun through it.
“It’s now or never!” Master Chief shouted.
“Go!” Canary yelled.
Master Chief applied the end of the wire to the gun barrel, and the giant holding it screamed. Without pause, Agejew grabbed the latching mechanism and pulled, but the handle was bent and didn’t move.
He released the wire in his other hand and grabbed the handle with both hands. This time the mechanism moved, slowly as he forced it open. With a screech, it opened the rest of the way, and the hatch sagged even further. Agejew jumped out of the way and threw the door open, just as a giant reached forward to push on it.
On its hands and knees, the Jotunn fell forward when the door opened, and Canary threw both grenades over the giant as it tried to get back up.
The giant had one hand in the space with them, and Master Chief knew the giant’s arm would prevent him from shutting the hatch. He grabbed the wire from where it hung next to him and jammed it into the giant’s face.
The Dark Star War (Codex Regius Book 3) Page 19
