by Jay Allan
The two of them had been sitting alone talking when the enemy attack began. They were down a short corridor, one that appeared to dead end about twenty meters from the main camp. It was just about the only place there were no enemy warbots charging…at least not yet.
“I know, Ana…but you have to stay down. We’ve got bogies coming in from every direction out there.” Frasier paused for an instant then added, “They’re better off over there than we are here anyway…safer.” That was a lie. He could see on his display the others were surrounded too, completely cut off from the camp. But there was nothing Ana could do about that now. Nothing but take wild chances that could get her killed…and still not accomplish a thing to help Cutter. And he wasn’t going to let that happen…whatever he had to do to prevent it. Even lie to her.
“Stay put, Ana. Please. We’ve got to stabilize things here, and then we can go after them. It’s the best way to help, the only way.”
He peered out over the spur of rock they were using for cover. He could hear combat all around the camp. They were getting hit hard…and he realized he had to get everybody out, back up to the surface. The expedition was a failure…the enemy forces were just too numerous. Bruce and his men—and Cutter too—were as good as dead. He hated himself for thinking that, but he was too experienced a veteran not to acknowledge facts. And letting Ana—and the other scientists—throw their lives away with no hope of saving them wasn’t going to help anyone. Maybe, just maybe he could get them out of here, some of them at least…and the whole force could pull back, away from the city. With luck, the enemy wouldn’t follow up…and Barcomme’s people would have the chance to complete the food production. That would keep the expedition from being a total failure.
He looked off to his right. He could hear heavy fire down that way…both First Imperium ordnance and his own peoples’. There was fighting all around, but it was definitely heavier to the right. But that’s also the way out of here…or at least the way we know.
“Ana, I want you to stay right here. I want you to promise me…”
“No, Duncan…I can’t leave them. Ronnie is like my brother…”
“He wouldn’t want you to get yourself killed, Ana. Not for no reason. And if you try to get to them now, that is exactly what will happen. You’ve got no chance of getting through there. None.”
He pushed her down gently, below the lip of the outcropping. “Stay low, and keep your eyes open. I’ve got to move to the right, take command over there, but you should be okay here. Try to raise the rest of your people on the com…get as many of them here as you can.” He knew the scientists would just get picked off in the fighting if he didn’t get them out of the main combat area. “But don’t go out looking for them…they need you here coordinating.”
She looked back at him, her eyes wide with distress. He could tell she still wanted to run off, to go find Cutter and the others. But she stayed where she was. There were tears streaming from her eyes, but she had a determined look on her face…and her carbine was in her hands. “Okay, Duncan,” she said, not sounding entirely convinced, “I’ll try to get everyone organized.”
He nodded then he started to turn. But he stopped and looked back. “Please, Ana…stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then we’ll see what we can do about Hieronymus and Lieutenant Bruce.”
She nodded, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve. “I’ll stay.”
He felt another twinge of guilt for offering her more hope than he believed existed. But right now, his biggest concern was keeping her alive. And he’d do whatever he had to do to manage that.
* * *
Hieronymus was slouched down behind the rock wall, his hands wrapped tightly around his rifle. He’d been fighting alongside Bruce’s people—and holding his own if he did say so himself—but now he was down to his last clip. The nuclear-powered weapons of the armored Marines carried five hundred round cartridges, over five times the ordnance his own assault rifle mounted. And he wasn’t the shot his new friends were, which meant he’d burnt through what he had that much quicker.
Bruce had told him to stay low, and to save his last shots for an emergency…though if the current situation wasn’t already an emergency, he didn’t know what would be. They had six Marines down, three of them dead, and the rest had been driven back into a shrinking perimeter.
As far as he could see, they were surrounded…and completely cut off from the camp. The intensity of the battle right around him had drowned out the sounds of combat from farther away, but he could tell there was still fighting going on back there. If anything, it had grown even more intense.
He had begun to realize there wasn’t much hope of help working its way to them. Indeed, he was on the verge of giving up, of hoping Ana and Duncan and the others would manage to find a way out of the trap and not die here with him. He was scared to death, but the last thing he wanted was for Ana to get trapped down here to die with him. Maybe Duncan can get her out of here…
“Doc, c’mon…we gotta fall back.” Duff McCloud reached down and grabbed Cutter, pulling him hard from the ground. “We got bogies coming down here. The lieutenant wants us back down the side hallway.”
Cutter grunted as he stumbled across the stone floor, trying to keep his balance under McCloud’s ungentle grip. As soon as he realized where they were going, he knew the fight was almost over. They were trapped, with no way out…and surrounded on every other side.
“Duck behind me, Doc.” McCloud shoved Cutter hard, pulling him around, shielding him from the direction of enemy fire as they dashed across the open corridor…and into the last refuge. He wasn’t gentle, but then he was shoving himself between the scientist and the incoming projectiles, so Cutter wasn’t about to take a few bruises personally.
McCloud stopped just inside the corridor, pushing Cutter in farther then whipping around his rifle and opening fire. The ground in front was littered with shattered bots, the remains of the enemy’s attempts to rush the position. And Cutter knew it was only a matter of time before they broke through.
“You okay, Hieronymus?” Bruce came running back from the other side. He’d been opposite McCloud’s position, covering enemy’s advance from that side.
“I’m fine, Kyle…but we’re pretty fucked, aren’t we?”
Bruce sighed softly. He sounded like he was going to argue, to offer some kind of explanation about how they were going to make it out. But then he just nodded and said, “Yeah. We’re fucked.”
Hieronymus turned and looked back toward McCloud. The gargantuan Marine was firing away like a machine, and Cutter had no doubt he would fight to the bitter end. But there were just too many of the enemy, and no way to…
His head snapped around…and then he put his hands over his ears and let out a cry. The sound was deafening, and he slipped down to his knees. Bruce leapt back too, but only for a second. Clearly, his AI had cut off the audio from his external microphones.
Then the explosions began…one after the other, down the corridor in both directions. Toward the enemy. Cutter’s first thought was it was a new First Imperium weapon, but then he realized it was directed outward…at the attackers, not at them. He staggered back deeper into the corridor, stumbling against the wall and desperately trying to cover his ears.
The noise continued for another thirty seconds or so…and then it faded away. He could hear a few of the Marines still firing, but the sound of the First Imperium fire was gone.
“Cease fire.”
Cutter could barely hear Bruce’s voice on the com. His ears were ringing, and he had a splitting headache. But he realized almost immediately they weren’t under attack anymore.
“What the hell was that?” It was McCloud on the com now. His voice was louder than Bruce’s, gruffer. Which made it easier for Cutter to hear.
“Quiet, McCloud,” Bruce snapped back. “Look around, and make sure there are no enemies left in the area.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“Hiero
nymus?”
“Lieutenant?” Cutter suspected he was screaming, but he didn’t have a good feel for his volume. His ears were recovering, a little. But Bruce’s voice still sounded faint and far away.
“You alright?” He came trotting over toward the scientist.
“Yeah…that sound was loud. But I think I’m okay.”
“Do you have any idea what that was?”
Cutter shook his head. “None whatsoever…but it seems like the enemy is gone. Could it have been something from the camp?” He knew even as he said it that wasn’t the case. The Marines didn’t have any secret weapons…and if they’d had any, he would have known about them. Hell, he’d probably have built them.
“No…that was no Marine gear. And it wasn’t like anything we’ve ever run into with First Imperium forces before. It looks like it took them all out, and left us alone.”
Another series of sounds blasted through the com channels. It was like loud feedback, rapidly switching frequencies, the sounds changing constantly. Suddenly, Bruce popped his helmet and yelled over to Cutter. “Doc, it’s my AI…it’s running wild!”
Cutter took a step toward Bruce, straining to listen. His ears were improving, but everything still sounded muffled. The Marine’s AI speakers were spewing out a series of random-sounding noises. It was fast, so fast he could barely make out that they were words. It was speech, standard Alliance English, but it was so quick it sounded mostly like gibberish. Then, it stopped.
“Come,” a voice boomed through the air. “Follow.”
There was a light on the floor, a projection of some kind from above. It was an arrow, and it led back, deeper in the direction the party had been heading when they were attacked.
Cutter just stood there looking off into the distance. His heart was pounding, his neck slick with sweat. He turned and faced Bruce, each looking at the other for a suggestion about what to do.
“Follow,” the voice repeated. “You must hurry.”
Bruce looked up at Cutter, his eyes wide with shock. “What should we do?” He gripped his rifle firmly, staring off cautiously in the direction of the arrow.
Cutter looked back toward the camp. The sounds of fighting there had ceased as well. Hopefully, Ana is okay. He wanted to go back, to make sure…and let her know he was alive too. But something told him he had to see this through.
He took a step forward…then another. “I think we better see what is down here. Whatever it is, it just took out at least a hundred battle bots for us.” Cutter felt nauseous, terrified to his very core. But he was exhilarated too. He had no idea what they had just encountered, but he knew in his gut it was something new…a game changer. Whether that was good or bad was another question. But there was only one way to find out.
He looked at Bruce for a few seconds. Then he took a deep breath and turned back, continuing off into the semi-darkness of the corridor.
Bruce stood still for a moment, looking back at McCloud and his survivors, all standing around watching in stunned awe as Hieronymus Cutter walked off into the gloom alone. They exchanged a quick series of glances…and then they followed the scientist.
Chapter Sixteen
From the Personal Log of Terrance Compton
Something is wrong, terribly wrong…I am sure of it. Skepticism has always been my friend, a guardian that has watched my back for me, warned me when danger prowled in the darkness. It has saved my life many times, and helped me save those of friends and comrades. And now it is screaming to me.
The emergence of enemy forces into X56 from the X58 system was upsetting to be sure, but it was not a shock to me. I know many of the crews had dared to hope we had evaded our enemies, but I didn’t believe that, not for an instant. I wouldn’t have allowed myself such hopes, even if there had been reason for optimism. But there wasn’t. The planets we passed have grown larger…we have clearly been moving deeper into the Imperium and not out the other side. Indeed, the very fact that we went so long without contact has been of deep concern to me.
The emergence of First Imperium ships from the X57 gate, erased any doubt. The enemy knew we were here. Had we fallen prey to some detection device or hidden ship in X56? Or did they know where we’d come from as well? Had they followed us? Do they know about the landing parties?
The questions are myriad, and they defy answers. I must decide what to do now that the fleet has pulled back to X54. We cannot stay…that would throw away every advantage the rearguards had sacrificed so much to gain. We will wait as long as we can to give the survivors the chance to transit and rejoin us, but then I must decide. Do I lead the fleet through the X53 warp gate, and into unexplored space? Or do we retreat back the way we came, to X51?
I don’t know what to do, but the choice is mine and mine alone. In many ways it feels like a coin toss, a decision where logic and thought may do little to recommend one course over another. In the end, I must decide, do I take the fleet into the unknown…and risk being cut off from the expedition in X48? Or do I risk leading the enemy back with us, leaving the ground forces undefended and exposed to attack and destruction?
AS Midway
X54 System – Approaching the X53 warp gate
The Fleet: 127 ships, 29411 crew
“We’re thirty light seconds from the gate, Admiral.” Cortez turned and stared over toward Compton. “Admiral West’s forces have completed transit from X56, sir. Along with Captain Kato…and Captain Duke’s survivors. They should link up with us in just over six hours, sir. The admiral reports they had no new enemy contacts in X56 prior to entering the warp gate.”
Compton paused for a few seconds, and he felt a knot in his chest, the pain that had become so familiar and yet which burned with its own unique fire each time. And this time it was for John Duke.
Compton knew, perhaps better than anyone on the fleet, that the pain and struggle never truly ended, that each new fight held its own challenges…and carried its own costs. Captain Duke wasn’t the first loyal officer—or friend—Terrance Compton had lost…nor did the admiral dare to imagine he would be the last. But the pain was as keen as any he remembered. Duke had been utterly loyal, a man he’d been able to count on without question, no matter what the situation or how dire the need. Indeed, there were few officers in the fleet as universally loved and respected as John Duke had been…or whose death would be so widely and deeply mourned. There were worse epitaphs for a man to leave behind, certainly. But Compton was tired of losing friends, however nobly they might have died.
A man could die with honor, he could save his comrades in the process, even win a battle with his sacrifice. But in the end it was the same…he was gone, dead, lost, never again to stand alongside those who had called him friend. Compton had once believed in glorious sacrifice, in the honor of those who died selflessly, heroically. Now that was mostly gone, and he’d come to see dead as just that. Dead.
He took a breath and said, “Very well. Get Captain Schwerin on my line.” He longed to mourn his friend, but there was work to do, duty. As usual. And John Duke would be the first to understand that…
“Yes sir.” A moment later: “Captain Schwerin, sir.”
“Dolph, is Tyr ready?”
“Yes, sir. On your command.”
Compton stared down at the display, his eyes settling on the single tiny icon sitting several light seconds from the main fleet. Tyr.
“Very well, Captain. You may proceed…and remember, I want you to do a quick scout and then come back immediately. Just because you’re going alone doesn’t mean I’m sending you on a suicide mission. Far from it.” A pause. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Admiral.”
Compton couldn’t tell if Schwerin was convinced. Probably not. He meant every word he said, but he wasn’t sure he would have believed it either in the CEL captain’s shoes.
“Then I will expect you back in system within ten minutes, Captain. No more.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good luck, Captain.”
>
“Thank you, sir. Schwerin out.”
Compton’s thoughts drifted back to Duke for a moment. Jaguar had been the final ship to die in X56, destroyed by the last Gargoyle just before Saratoga’s laser batteries had torn it apart. John Duke had served brilliantly, and his fast attack ships had expended themselves without hesitation to save their comrades. He had been a true hero of the fleet, one Compton had intended to reward with a long overdue pair of admiral’s stars. He’d only held back as long as he had because he was reluctant to promote yet another Alliance spacer over the other nationalities of the fleet.
And now he will never receive the recognition he was due. Did he know? Did he understand? Or did he imagine I was somehow disappointed in him? That he had failed me in some way? That he lacked my whole-hearted trust and gratitude?
I will give him his star posthumously, of course…and we will all stand around and say solemn things. Has there ever been a more useless display? And yet it is all we can do, and so we shall.
John, you were an officer beyond compare…and a man I was proud to call one of my key commanders. One of my friends…
“Tyr is accelerating, sir,” Cortez reported, pulling Compton from his introspection. “Estimate transit in twenty-eight minutes.”
“Very well, Commander.” His eyes stared at the icon representing the attack ship. With any luck, Schwerin and his crew would come back with word that X53 was clear. That wouldn’t be definitive…there wasn’t time for a thorough scan, and even if there had been, one ship was a woefully inadequate force to complete it. But Compton wasn’t willing to risk more than a single vessel, not now. He felt as if his fleet was melting around him, like a block of ice on a hot day. Thousands of his people had died in the last year…and dozens of ships. He couldn’t afford to lose any more.
