by B. V. Larson
“We need a small amount of fresh biochemical compounds,” Marvin said.
I looked around. We were out of hamburger patties. I looked down at last to my half-eaten ham sandwich. With a sigh, I pulled the ham out and laid it down in the growing puddle of soup near Sandra’s head.
“It’s all right honey,” I said to her pretty face, which was now encircled with what looked like hot mud. “I was having a hard time eating it all anyway.”
Ning ran in with an extra piece of meat in her hands. I frowned at it. “Is that fish?” I asked.
“It’s all we’ve got left that’s thawed.”
“Okay, I hope we don’t screw this up.”
She added all of it before I could stop her.
“All she has in a brain injury,” I said.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“We don’t need that much mass.”
“Will it matter?”
I shook my head. I had no idea.
Kwon shook the last goop from his new leg and arm. He couldn’t walk yet, however. In fact, he cursed at anyone who came near him. He didn’t want to be touched. He was in that same overly-sensitive state I had been, except far more of his body had been affected.
Carlson came awake soon after we’d lifted him from the coffin. He had a surprised look on his face, to say the least. His first sight consisted of my eyes staring into his.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Colonel?” he said, looking around fearfully. His body dripped with slime. “What happened?”
“I killed you—then changed my mind,” I told him.
Ning gave me a dirty look and clucked her tongue. She led Carlson out of the laboratory speaking softly to him.
I crouched by Sandra’s coffin, staring at the shallow spot over her face. I could still see some of her features under that churning liquid.
Kwon hopped and cursed over to me. “Do you think she’ll make it?” he asked.
“I have no idea.”
“She will,” Kwon said after a minute. “Carlson seemed fine.”
“Yeah,” I said.
I stayed there a few minutes, tensely staring at Sandra’s covered face. This was it. Would she stir? Carlson hadn’t moved. She had an oxygen mask tightly fitted to her face. Air bubbles rose up with each exhalation. The glass porthole into the coffin fogged up lightly.
“Marvin,” I said, “is she responding to the treatment? Is she going to wake up or not? Tell the microbes not to keep her sleeping once the treatment is done.”
Marvin and I were soon the last two in the room, besides Sandra herself. I was nervous, trying very hard not to get my hopes up. If she didn’t respond after all the success I’d seen, I knew I would have a fit of grief and pain. I even thought about firing up the old electrode to fry these little guys so they didn’t dare to fail me. I didn’t do it, of course. I wondered why I put myself into these horrible situations. If this failed, I knew I would wish I hadn’t bothered, that I had just let her go.
The fish around Sandra had partly dissolved. What were they doing in there?
“Colonel? This is Major Sarin.” Her voice cold and her words were clipped.
I heard her in my headset and knew right away it was bad news. Sarin became even more severely controlled when things were going wrong.
“Talk to me, Major.”
“The Macros have made their next move, sir,” she said.
I stood up and headed for the door. “Fix up Sandra, Marvin!” I shouted over my shoulder as I left.
“The prisoners assure me they will do their utmost, sir,” Marvin said.
I hesitated at the hatchway, looking back. I didn’t entirely trust Marvin. I decided I would send Ning down here later to keep an eye on him.
-35-
“They’re coming right at us, sir,” Sarin said, her voice wavering slightly. “On a collision course.”
I reached the big screen and stared down into it. I had my helmet tucked under my arm. My sides heaved from the run up to the bridge. Everyone stared at me. I knew they were all wondering what I was going to do. What magical trick I could pull to stop this nightmare.
“All right, strategy session,” I said loudly. “Major Welter, you are in this. Get over here.”
Welter handed the controls over to the robot pilot we’d built and came to the screen.
I looked at him, “You’ve been flying since I left the bridge.”
“Yes, Colonel. I think I have the hang of it now.”
“Good to know. Okay Gorski, tell me how many drones we have.”
“Five ready to fire, sir. A sixth should be available within the hour.”
“Not enough to stop a volley of eight, but it will have to do,” I said. My eyes flicked over the screen. I could see two curved colored lines and ticking digital times flying by. The lines projected the course of Jolly Rodger and the enemy cruiser, predicting their collision point and the point where we would come into range of their cannon. The screen displayed our speed and the estimated times require to reach our goal points. The Macro cruiser had left its distant, shadowing position. Instead of flying parallel to our own path, they were now veering toward us. Both ships would reach the ring and escape the system in thirty-nine minutes. On their current course, the Macros would collide with us on the far side three minutes after that.
“All right,” I said. “Give your best guesses. What are they up to?”
“They are increasing speed,” Gorski reported. “They could be planning to dive through the ring before we do, sir. They don’t want to eat our mines again.”
“We shot down all the other incoming missiles,” Sarin said. “They might think we can shoot down anything they fire at us from a distance. Therefore, they are holding their next volley until we are very close.”
I turned to Welter. “You’re a flyer. What do you think?”
Welter shrugged. “Both possibilities are reasonable. They are either trying to get in close and blast us, or they are going to fly through the ring ahead of us.”
“That could be why they are making their move now,” I said. “They don’t want us to exit the system before they do.”
“What if they lay mines of their own on the far side?” Major Sarin asked.
“Then we blow up when we follow them,” I said. I leaned on the screen. I had very few options. We weren’t up to this. I needed weeks of careful build-up and repair—but I simply didn’t have the time.
I thumped my armored fist down on the edge of the screen. It wobbled slightly, but didn’t crack. “We can’t keep them from firing at us. They could do that now, if they wished. So, nothing I do can alter that possibility. But I can stop them from getting through that ring before we do.”
I looked at them. Sarin looked worried, but resolute. Gorski shook his head bemusedly. Major Welter looked around at the others and finally at me, frowning. I could tell he was the only one who didn’t get it.
“How can you stop them from getting through?” he asked. “They’ve got the speed on us. We’ve got no missiles to fire.”
I smiled. “Captain Gorski,” I said loudly. “Lay in our new course.”
“About nineteen degrees at full acceleration should do it,” Gorski said, working his tablet interface. A new yellow line appeared on the screen. It curved away from the broken nose of Jolly Rodger and swerved right into the Macro ship.
“You’re going to ram them?” Major Welter asked.
“Not exactly,” I said. “I only want to get close enough to send about eight hundred troops on flying dishes over there to visit.”
“Oh,” said Major Welter. “How is this better than flying straight for the ring?”
“At their current course and speed they will reach the ring first,” Major Sarin said. “We can’t match their acceleration in this damaged ship. But right now, they are still a little behind us. If we veer right into them, we’ll get close before they can get to the ring.”
“Then they’ll fire their missiles,�
�� Welter said, “at point-blank range.”
“Right,” I said, “and we’ll fire our drones, taking a few hits.”
“I’ve never seen them lay a single mine,” Welter argued. “They only fire missiles. The longer we wait the safer we are, as we have time to produce more drones.”
“It’s actually not Macro mines that I’m worried about,” I said. “It is their missiles. If we chase them through the ring, they will launch into our faces. They will time it so the missiles hit us exactly as we come through. We won’t be able to stop them with drones because we won’t be able to see the missiles until we go through the ring. If they do it right, we’ll fly directly into a series of warheads.”
Major Welter nodded slowly. “So…we are screwed,” he said.
I chuckled. “Now you’re catching on. But I think we have one critical thing they don’t have. We have troops to board with and a delivery system for those troops. They’ve expended their assault ships and storm troops.”
Major Welter sucked in a huge breath. I could tell he didn’t like my theories, or my solution. “Well, I guess we should do it then. Otherwise, they could just sit on the far side of the ring and plug us up.”
“That’s right,” I said, “It’s always best to take the initiative from the enemy, to do the unexpected and screw up their plans.”
Major Welter turned to Sarin. “Aren’t you going to order the helm to change course?”
“I did several minutes ago,” Sarin said. “The moment Colonel Riggs brought it up, I knew where we were headed. We needed every second—I hope you don’t mind, Colonel.”
Welter looked shocked. I smirked at Sarin, and she gave me a shy smile in return. I watched the two yellow lines which traced the future paths of both ships as they ticked closer to one another on the big screen. I reflected upon what a good officer Sarin was. She had reached the point of anticipating my orders. She was easy on the eyes, too. A perfect combination in an ops officer.
I didn’t know how close the macros were going to let us get before they fired their missiles. I suspected they would figure out our plan before we got in their faces. They would know then they had to pound our ship before they lost their own.
It was nearly thirty minutes later when the Macros fired their missiles. Our ships were very close by that time.
“We’ve got eight new contacts incoming, Colonel,” Gorski announced, trying to sound as calm as Major Sarin. He failed.
“Impact in nine minutes,” Major Sarin said.
I stared tensely at the screen, noting the enemy ship’s projected path. It did not vary its course to avoid us, meaning we would be getting cozy very soon. I’d ordered Kwon to marshal his troops. Everyone with dish training was to suit up and prepare to board.
“Fire our drones when we get to the five minute mark,” I said.
“We’ve only got six drones ready, sir,” Gorski said. “We’ll take two hits at least.”
“I can count,” I snapped. I contacted Kwon: “Captain. Get your men to the sally ports. I want them to jump in five minutes on my order. Take seven companies. You’ll have to ride in under fire, but I don’t want everyone wiped out if the hull ruptures.”
“What about the bricks, sir?” Kwon asked me.
I chewed my lower lip. “Send the reserve company into the hold. Release the magnetic clamps. Push them all out of the breach into space. We’ll come back and pick them up later—if we live.”
“Seven minutes to impact,” Major Sarin said.
It was at this point that Ning contacted me. “Colonel? Colonel Riggs?”
“Go ahead, Ning,” I said.
“I’m in the Macro laboratory. Sandra is still in her medical pod, but it’s completely full of dark liquid now.”
“Is Sandra all right?” I asked. I felt a pang of guilt and worry.
“I’m—I’m not sure, sir,” Ning said.
I wanted to say I’d be running right down there, but I couldn’t leave the bridge in the middle of a battle. “Fix things for me, Ning,” I said. “We’re about to go into a fight. Should I send help?”
“It just looks odd, that’s all,” Ning said. “I don’t know what those things are doing to her. And Marvin keeps adding new proteins.”
She sounded a little freaked out. “Watch that robot for me,” I told her. “Get Sandra out of there as soon as you can. You are the med-tech. I’m counting on you.”
“Yes sir, Ning out.”
I disconnected and worried about the call. What had she seen? What was happening? This simply wasn’t the time for personal matters, I told myself harshly. I had to delegate. I was responsible for a thousand lives, not just one. I forced my mind back to the battle at hand.
“Six minutes to impact,” Major Sarin said.
“Release the drones,” I ordered.
After a pause and the familiar sensations of the ship firing, Sarin spoke again: “The drones will be meeting the enemy missiles in three minutes.”
I glanced at her. She was like a machine herself. “Everyone suit up. If the missiles get through, we might lose pressure.”
A dozen worried eyes sought mine. I ignored them all. I stared at the screen, but all I could think about was Sandra, Ning and whatever Marvin was up to. I had a bad feeling about it. I’ve learned to listen to those feelings while exploring the universe. Humans such as myself were beyond our comfort zone out here. I’d grown up on TV, internet, sitting in classrooms and commuting to a dull job, just like every other boring stiff back on Earth. The rules were far different in space, where we seemed to be sized up for extermination by a new alien every day. Instincts and hunches were all humanity had to go on now that we’d joined the galactic community—because we sure as hell didn’t know what we were doing.
“Assuming the drones take out six for six, can Jolly Rodger withstand two warheads?” I asked my staff. They talked about it while I stared at pixels. The targeting arcs had gone red now, and begun to blink. I supposed that was something built into the software to indicate we were in imminent danger.
“Depends on where they hit,” Gorski said, giving me the final verdict.
“We can’t turn our nose to them, as we’ve got a gaping hole there now,” I said. “And we certainly don’t want to take a hit in the engine area and be disabled. We’ll have to turn our flank to them and take it broadside.”
No one looked happy, but Major Welter stepped up. “I’ll do the steering,” he said. “We don’t have much time to program the auto pilot to do anything tricky.”
I glanced at him and nodded. He proudly went to the brainbox and turned it off. Nanite hands dropped to the machine’s side and Welter took its place, frowning in concentration. He was a gifted pilot, but I really wasn’t sure he was ready for this.
“The drones are going to intercept, sir,” Major Sarin said. “In four, three, two, one—mark.”
“Impact confirmed,” said Gorski. “Three hits. Four. Five.”
There was a three second delay. “Talk to me,” I said.
He shook his head. “We missed one. Three missiles still incoming.”
“Crap,” I said. I opened a ship-wide channel. “Everyone, this is Colonel Riggs. We are about to be struck by incoming fire. You are ordered to abandon ship. You have four minutes to get outside this hull and at least a mile away into space. Leave what you can’t carry. If our ship survives the attack, return to her. If our ship breaks up, head toward the enemy cruiser if you want to keep breathing.”
I saw the frightened, disbelieving stares. Major Sarin’s look told me she didn’t approve of my off-handed bluntness. I supposed she never had. I could hear her scolding thoughts: Tactful as always, sir.
People sprang into action all around me. They ripped up the computer screen and carried it with them. I saw Major Welter bring the ship around so we would take the strikes in the side. Another tech took the auto-pilot with him, but Welter stayed at the helm. I ran off without commenting.
I reached the laboratory with
less than three minutes to spare. Sandra’s coffin was open and filled with sludge. Sandra was lying on the floor in a huge puddle of lumpy liquid. I didn’t see Ning or Marvin. Perhaps they’d given up on her and abandoned ship as ordered.
Sandra’s thin clothes had been dissolved away to nothing. It looked as if her entire body had been dipped into dirty oil. I assumed she was dead. I felt my eyes sting as I rolled her gently onto her back. Then I saw her eyes—they were open and staring. Those eyes were bright in the oily mess of her face.
She didn’t look at me. She didn’t look at anything. “I can’t move,” she whispered softly.
I’d been frozen by this series of events, but now I kicked myself into action. I didn’t have time to give her a shower or call for a corpsman. I figured I’d strangle Ning and dismantle Marvin later for leaving her—assuming any of us survived the next minutes.
Shoving Sandra into a vacc suit wasn’t an option. I simply didn’t have the time. Instead, I lifted her and dumped her into what had been Carlson’s coffin. He was missing too, but I hardly cared. I put her limp form into the coffin and slammed the lid shut. I grabbed a flying dish and dragged her pod, bumping along behind me. She didn’t have much heat or air in there, but it was better than nothing. We had to get off the ship.
My hope was, as I forced the nearest emergency hatch to blow open and went twisting out into space, that Jolly Rodger would survive the incoming warheads. I’d seen Macro cruisers take a lot of punishment before going down. Unfortunately, Jolly Rodger had already endured a number of beatings.
I accelerated away from the ship, awkwardly hauling Sandra in her coffin with me. I didn’t make it to a safe distance before the missiles hit. Nowhere near. The flash made my visor darken. I worried instantly about Sandra, who didn’t have a visor protecting her. Would she be blinded? I kept flying as directly away from the explosion as I could.
In space, explosions operate differently than those detonated in an atmosphere. There was no shockwave—no wall of air pressure to knock things away. Only the force of the initial blast itself mattered, plus any shrapnel or radiation it might release.
