Space Above and Beyond 2 - Demolition Winter - Peter Telep

by Peter Telep

  "What the—" Nathan found himself saying. Never before had he seen the Chigs resort to kamikaze runs. He studied the ship, and, with a horrid fascination, wondered if it was loaded with explosives like its ancient Earth counterpart. He grimaced as he jinked right, feeding the ship shudder over the maneuver.

  "He's still coming at us," Kyoko said. "Impact in three, two—"

  The glimmering wall surrounding her was torn in multiple sections from right to left by a sharp wing of the colliding ship. Kyoko shrieked as the wall broke free before she could remove her arms from it. With a sudden roar of escaping air and a flash of brilliant stars, she and the segment of dying wall were rocketed into space. Gone. Forever.

  With shock and horror erupting from his mouth in a cry that challenged the fleeing air's roar, Nathan tried in vain to go after Kyoko, but the seat held him tight. And then, to his further shock, the large, jagged hole in the compartment that had swallowed Kyoko was suddenly gone, and the wind had died. In a matter of seconds, the living ship had instantaneously grown a patch for the breach in its hull. The new wall glowed slightly dimmer than the others, and it bubbled along the new seams.

  "Damage repaired," Wang said, clearly astounded.

  Feeling as if time had stopped, as if all of it had only been a daydream while staring into a cup of coffee during off time at the mess, Nathan sat in the command chair and was unable to do much more. Tremors continued to rip through the ship from the continued pounding by the alien fighters, but he barely heard or felt that danger. If he felt anything at all, it was hollow. And cold. And all he wanted to do was go home to his old room and bury his head in his pillow.

  "Got a target lock and good-bye," Wang said. A bolt flashed and destroyed an alien fighter that was banking to begin a strafe.

  "Silver Bullet Squadron, this is White Tiger Two. We re in to assist."

  A moment passed, then Shane said, "Nathan? Respond."

  He looked at her. "What?"

  She pursed her lips, then regarded the ceiling speaker. "Copy you White Tiger Two. Require immediate escort back to the Saratoga."

  "Roger. The two-five will stick around to mop up these remaining fighters. We'll escort you back."

  "Silver Bullet One out," Shane said.

  "Chigs took one look at our squadrons and turned tail," Wang said soberly, his face glistening with sweat. "Why don't I wanna yell hoo-yah?"

  With the ship now flying steadily, the command chair permitted Nathan to rise from it. He did so slowly. With a growing scowl, he went to the patched wall and swore aloud. Then he beat a fist upon it. He punched again. And again. And then he shrank to his knees and closed his eyes to stop the tears. "They keep taking from me," he whispered. "When are they gonna stop?"

  Then he realized that maybe they had already taken his life, too. The ship had not fully escaped the shock wave of the explosion and its accompanying radiation. Taking away loved ones wasn't enough. Perhaps now their acts would cause him to die a slow, miserable death that even twenty-first-century medicine could not prevent.

  He felt someone touch his shoulder. Through teary eyes he saw Shane. With wounded legs she had still managed to crawl to him. She slid an arm around his head and held him tightly.

  "Rendezvous with the Saratoga in five mikes," Damphousse reported softly. "Infirmary's standing by."

  twenty-nine

  Shane climbed slowly to the top of a black mountain of unconsciousness, her utility belt rattling as she did so. She gripped the final ledge and pulled herself to the top. Darkness swept across everything.

  Then she remembered she had to open her eyes. And what flooded into view was not a magnificent, sprawling landscape of mountains reflected in the placid lakes below them but a plain sheet of dull gray steel. She turned her head left and once again heard the jingling of her utility belt, in truth the rattle of a food cart being rolled by a nurse. And then she remembered. She lay in Saratoga's infirmary, and they had removed the slug from her ankle as well as laser-sealing her other wounds. She tried to move her legs and discovered they were still numb; and worse, she reached down and felt the long, tubular form of the catheter snaking out of her. There are few things more humiliating in this universe than being unable to control one's bowels, she thought. I can handle the IV, but this they'd better get out of me soon.

  "Aw man, you just missed them." The voice was familiar, and she tossed her head lazily to the right and saw a bandaged Cooper lying in a gurney next to hers. His CD player sat on his chest, the headphones around his neck. "Nathan and Paul and 'Phousse were here like ten seconds ago," he said.

  "That's nice," she said, wincing as she felt the scorching desert that was her throat.

  The nurse who had been wheeling the food cart returned. She fetched a glass of water and handed it to Shane. "You're slightly dehydrated," she said.

  "When will this come out?" Shane asked, indicating with her glance toward the catheter.

  "In about six hours."

  Shane rolled her eyes, then sipped at the water.

  As the nurse left, Cooper said, "The guys didn't tell me much. They said we lost Kyoko and Teddy. That's about it."

  "Let me put it to you this way, Hawkes," Shane began, not looking at him. "You're the only man I know who can literally sleep through a nuclear explosion."

  "What? Hey, it wasn't my fault. They said I lost a lot of blood." Then he paused. "Nuclear explosion? You serious?"

  Shane sighed. "I don't wanna talk now."

  "That's a shame," someone said from the doorway. "I was hoping you would."

  Though she knew the voice, she didn't look up at him. In fact, he was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. But he moved to the bed, and there he was, Colonel McQueen, his eyes full of sympathy as he stared down at her. "Colonel," she acknowledged coldly.

  He pursed his lips. "How are you feeling?"

  She thought a moment before answering. "Betrayed."

  Slowly, he closed his eyes and drew in a quick breath. "I've been there. And it's not easy. But I trusted you would do the right thing. And you did."

  "And I trusted in you. And you lied to me, didn't you," she said, clawing at the sheet. "Tell me. How much did you know?"

  "Enough to make me sick."

  "But Colonel, you could have tipped me off. You've done so in the past."

  He averted his gaze, and then his tone shifted to all-business. "We must learn to believe in the unified chain of command. We must not undermine it. My actions in the past might have saved your life, but they also jeopardized our careers. I took a stand this time. Right or wrong, I took a stand."

  "Fine. You did what they told you. But why did they write off those prisoners?"

  "I don't know. Maybe they weren't sure if they even existed. Maybe they deemed a rescue impossible. What I do know is that everything as usual is compartmentalized, and none of it ever existed."

  "Aren't you tired of this, Colonel? Trying to play by the rules and having the rule makers tell you to break them?"

  He rubbed the corners of his eyes and shook his head. "I don't have anything else. Like it or not, I know who I am."

  Shane felt her arms begin to tremble as she gripped even tighter at the sheets. "If that fat pogue who gave the order were here right now—" She broke herself off, feeling her jaw drop over a better idea. "You know, I think this time our mission won't be compartmentalized. I think this time my mission discs will find their way to the JAG office. Somebody is gonna swing for this."

  "Your mission discs have already been confiscated," he told her sadly. "Unless you backed them up."

  She smiled thinly.

  "You'll be wasting your time, Shane," he said, turning away from the bed. "The orders for this one came from the JAG office." He headed for the door.

  The tension seeped out of Shane's hands as she realized that the brass had won. McQueen had known it from the start, and now she understood the dullness in his eyes, the resigned look of utter defeat.

  "But if it's a
ny consolation," he added, pausing before he left. "What you did down there was outstanding. And more importantly, you all came back alive."

  His parting words drifted off into the tiny, muted sound of rock music escaping from Cooper's headphones. Shane had assumed that the lieutenant had been listening intently to the conversation when, in fact, he had resided in a screaming guitar world of his own. And as much as he annoyed her, she couldn't help but be exceedingly thankful that, indeed, she wouldn't be saying good-bye to him or any other member of the five-eight.

  Saying good-bye to her parents had been the most agonizing experience of Shane's life. It had drawn so much energy from her that for years afterward she had walked around feeling tired, so very tired.

  And now it seemed right to admit to herself that what had been bothering her was simply a fear, an obvious fear of bidding that same kind of forever good-bye to Nathan, Paul, Vanessa, or Cooper. The fear had stolen her energy. The fear had driven her to overwork the squadron because they couldn't die on her. She couldn't face their deaths. They had to be ready. They had to live. She had walked her hardwired march not for them or for the Corps but for herself. And while she wouldn't be able to release the fear overnight, at least she knew where to start.

  Because that inevitable day would come when one or all of them would be standing at the curb.

  And she would have no choice but to wave good-bye.

  epilogue

  After he had gone through decontamination, Nathan had learned that he and the others had not been exposed to radiation. They had been shielded by the hull of the alien ship, and while the news had brought smiles and sighs of relief to the rest of the five-eight, Nathan had kept sullen and silent.

  The tanker itself had been severely affected by laser strikes, but more so by the blast, and pieces of its armor had popped off, revealing a writhing, blistering sublayer of diseased hull. Whether the living ship had contracted radiation poisoning or something else was a question the techies on board the Saratoga were still trying to answer.

  Twelve hours had passed since they had returned to the ship, and during that time Nathan had performed his many post-Op rituals, one of which was to return his boots to their exact place on the floor of his locker. Accompanying that particular act had been a heightened sense of superstition because someone had died close to him. Correction. Someone close to him had died.

  Later on he had tried to visit Shane, but she had been unconscious, and so he had lain in his bunk, trying to recall the taste of Kyoko's tea before he fell asleep. Then Colonel McQueen had awakened him, and they, along with one of the prisoners from the aqueduct, had gone to visit Shane. The conversation had been, in a word, revealing.

  Now Nathan was stuffed into a hard chair in a dark, little debriefing room and giving his report. Some gaunt lieutenant colonel from the Judge Advocate General's office, who had just come aboard and who sat between Commodore Ross and Colonel McQueen, kept eyeing him contemptuously.

  When Nathan was finished, the JAG boy spoke. "Thus far, Lieutenant, you've told us the politically correct version of your mission on JGL751. We're all level red here. Why don't you be a little more insightful?"

  Nathan smiled inwardly over the JAG boy's use of that word. He was going to be insightful, all right. "Sir. I'm not sure you'll wanna hear it, sir."

  "Your duty is to report all of the facts. Are we clear on that?"

  "Yes, sir." Nathan swallowed and gathered his thoughts. "Lieutenant General Osborne offered Captain Hasford of the twenty-first squadron a promotion if the captain destroyed the aqueduct. Hasford was informed that prisoners might be held in the duct but that they were considered expendable. Lieutenant General Osborne's orders came from your office, and they were endorsed by the council."

  JAG boy's expression soured. "Scuttlebutt, Lieutenant. Pure and simple."

  "We don't think so, sir. And we also believe that the prisoners were considered expendable for two reasons."

  "Which are?" JAG boy asked dubiously.

  "A rescue was considered too difficult."

  "I thought there was nothing too difficult for the United States Marine Corps," JAG boy asserted sarcastically.

  "Sir. I didn't say the Corps considered them expendable," Nathan said, doing all but pointing his finger at the man.

  "And the second reason?"

  Before answering, Nathan exchanged a look with Colonel McQueen, who gave a slight nod. "Turns out that one of the prisoners, a Lieutenant Tim Lowry, worked for you guys and uncovered a series of payoffs made by the Aerotech corporation to two high-ranking members of your office. Then, during a different off-world investigation, Lowry's transport mysteriously veered into Chig territory, where he was captured." Nathan grinned broadly. "But he's safe and sound aboard the Saratoga now. The data discs proving his find are hidden, and boy, he's a talkative kind of guy."

  Colonel McQueen riveted his gaze on JAG boy. "Your bosses tried to play an ugly little golf game that would make them look like heroes while in truth they'd be murderers. When the first mission failed, they got the Corps to send in a silicate bomb. Guess they wanted Lowry dead very badly. But they never thought anyone would be stupid enough to actually attempt rescuing the prisoners. Hallelujah for stupidity."

  Getting to his feet, JAG boy shook his head. "If this is true, I had nothing to do with it."

  "We don't care," McQueen said.

  Commodore Ross rose abruptly. "Lieutenant Colonel Milson, you are dismissed."

  JAG boy frowned. "But we're not finished here." He reached down into a thin leather briefcase on the floor beside him.

  "You're finished here. I want you on the first transport off my ship. And I want you out of my face until the hearing. Tell your bosses I've already briefed the joint chiefs on this matter."

  Handing the commodore several documents that Nathan recognized as official Marine Corps communiques, JAG boy said, "Orders to take Lieutenant Lowry into custody."

  The commodore's lip twitched. "These come from your office." Slowly, he lifted his head to stare a moment at the lieutenant colonel before he tore the documents in half and thrust them toward the man.

  Through gritted teeth, JAG boy said, "You'll regret that." Then he narrowed his gaze, fetched his briefcase, and strode out of the room, slamming the hatch after him.

  "We should have offered him coffee," McQueen said dryly, then saluted the door.

  Ross tsked. "I don't like this, Ty."

  "Read you loud and clear. If Aerotech's wormed their way into the JAG office, what's to say the old man's not dealing with them personally?"

  "We can beat this one till it's got no legs. Fact is, we'll never know. We'll never know what really happened between the JAG and Aerotech. Maybe we're right. Maybe Lowry's right. Maybe he's not. And because this one's got so many unanswered questions, I'm thinking it's a lot bigger than we know. A whole lot bigger."

  On that ominous note, Nathan rose, along with his superiors. He was dismissed and left the room, heading for his quarters.

  Two minutes and six corridors later he arrived to find the bunk room empty. Cooper and Shane were still in the infirmary, of course. Damphousse and Wang were, he assumed, getting something to eat.

  Before the debriefing, Nathan had rounded up a box from Mank at the PX. He had, with Commodore Ross's permission, taken it upon himself to prepare Kyoko's rucksack for shipment home to her father. He had written a short note explaining how Kyoko had died valiantly and honorably while helping to navigate the alien tanker. He had also mentioned that he had lost a brother and knew what her father was feeling. He had closed the note by giving his spacenet address in case the man had any questions or just wanted to talk.

  Nathan placed the rucksack into the box, then he slipped the note halfway into an unzipped pocket. He closed the flaps on the box and lifted his roll of tape. But then he stopped. Thus far he had been able to resist the temptation to go through the rucksack. But this was his last chance, and he just had to have a look. He removed the
pack and began sifting through it. He opened her small container of tea, sniffed it, and was finally and instantly reminded of the taste. She had carried three colorful Japanese scarves which she used to wipe her face. These he pressed to his lips. Then, in the middle of opening another zipper, he became overwhelmed by the thought that he was somehow looting her memory. He returned everything, taped up the box, then hauled it out of the bunk room.

  On his way to cargo bay six, he passed Paul Wang in the corridor, who stopped and said, "Hey. I was just coming up for you. Get this. Coop and Vansen have been temporarily replaced by a couple of cherries straight out of Loxley. Two hive ships in this sector. We're point squadron. You're honcho. Wheels up in twenty mikes."

  Nathan winced. "Do me a favor, Paul? Tell the war I'm not in the mood today." He started off.

  Wang called after him. "Briefing's in fifteen, buddy. Shag it or shovel it,"

  Once in the cargo bay, he handed the box containing Kyoko's rucksack to a pair of ensigns who loaded it onto an Internal Solar System Cargo Vessel. He figured that Kyoko's father would receive the package in about two months.

  Standing before the bay's starboard side porthole, he watched the ISSCV rise off its pad, rotate its nose away from the ship, then shove off. Nathan remained there until the blue glow of the cargo vessel's thrusters had faded.

  about the author

  Peter Telep has written for the television shows In The Heat of The Night and The Legend of Prince Valiant. He is the recipient of the John Steinbeck Award for fiction and holds a B.A. in English from the University of Central Florida. His other novels, Squire, Squire's Blood, Squire's Honor, and Space: Above and Beyond are also available from HarperPrism. Mr. Telep lives in Orlando, Florida, with his wife Nancy and daughter Lauren Rose.

  Table of Contents

  prologue

  one

  two

  three

  four

  five

  six

  seven

  eight