A large holographic image of the light cruiser appeared in front of the Marines. Shaped like an ancient Roman sword, the Gladius light cruiser was 250 meters long. The engineering decks occupied the grip of the sword, and the command and operations decks occupied where the grip and cross-guard intersected. Mounts on the dorsal and ventral facings of the blade held the plasma and laser cannon, with the heavy plasma cannon at the tip. Mounts on the ventral part of the blade, spaced between the laser and plasma cannon, held five missile launchers.
On the port side, three decks below the command deck, the main airlock provided access to the main deck that ran the entire length of the ship. The main lift provided access to the command deck and the computer core.
McFinn pointed at the main airlock. “This will be their entrance point. It is the weakest point on the hull. Each Wolf class has a complement of forty-five heavily armed Naati assault troopers, each outfitted in battle armor, which will spearhead the boarding action. About six lesser-armed and armored technicians, perhaps even some yallic slaves, will follow these shock troops. The commander of the vessel may also accompany this second group. This second group will head for the central computer core under the Coch’s command deck. These will be followed by as many of the remaining crew of two hundred that can be spared.”
McFinn paused. “That’s right. If two vessels are moving in, over two hundred slavering Naati are coming.” The Marines and security personnel remained completely quiet, but McFinn saw the fear in their faces.
That’s okay. I’m scared shitless, too.
A force pushed McFinn against the bulkhead, and he fell to one knee. The lights dimmed for a moment, and a loud humming grew to an almost unbearable volume and then dissipated.
Plasma cannon.
A tight maneuver knocked the Marines and security personnel to the deck. They recovered, but each stood with a wider stance.
McFinn continued his briefing, the nausea of fear and uncertainty bubbling in his stomach. “They will have two goals. Their primary goal is to gather intelligence and technology, so they will need to access our most sensitive computer systems. Have no doubt; despite their backwardness, they have the means to do this, provided by the yallic slaves. Their second goal is to capture or wound as many of us as possible, for later interrogation and consumption. They consider us a delicacy, and prefer to eat us alive.”
“Remember, to a Naati, a boarding action is glorious, and a chance to prove personal bravery, as well as to gather spoils and fresh meat. They lack combat discipline, and may even fight amongst themselves for particularly valuable spoils. This is our advantage.”
Our one advantage.
“We will conduct an initial defense, here.” McFinn spread his hands and the holographic image zoomed in to a wide intersection outside the large main airlock. “Only two or three of the assault troopers will be able to exit the airlock at one time. After their initial assault, we will fall back to the central part of the ship, and at these three points close the emergency vacuum bulkheads. They will need to cut through each one, providing us with a defensive point at all three locations. Ideally these obstacles will encourage some of them to loot the rest of the ship, leaving fewer to continue toward their main goal of sacking the computer.”
He looked at his assembled team. “Any questions? If not, I’d like to hand things over to Sergeant Cobrado and her tactical expertise.”
The long white lights in the ceiling popped and shattered in a shower of sparks. McFinn and his team all fell to the deck, some of them thrown several meters. As the gravity returned to normal and the emergency lighting appeared, Cobrado began barking orders. McFinn hefted his ion rifle and led his team down the corridor toward the main airlock. Sparks and smoke poured from several points in the bulkhead, and other crewmembers emerged into the corridor to begin mitigating the damage.
McFinn watched as Sergeant Cobrado ordered the Marines and security personnel into defensive positions twenty meters from the main airlock. The Marines had all donned their helmets and formed a semicircle, with half of them prone and the others kneeling behind them. All brought their weapons to bear. The security personnel stayed back as reserve.
He tapped his communicator. “How does it look Captain?”
“That last hit was bad. We’re dead in space, Commander, and our weapons are useless. One of the cruisers is maneuvering on the Coch’s port side, while the other is taking a position off our ventral facing.”
“Ventral?” McFinn almost choked. The escape pods! It was too late, and he didn’t have enough crew to counter the Naati entering through the escape pod launchers, anyway. “Computer? Close all emergency vacuum bulkheads on E deck, forward of the central core.”
“Twenty two crew will become trapped in that portion of the vessel, Commander McFinn,” the computer answered in its dull monotone voice. McFinn found the lack of emotion in the computer’s voice more difficult to bear than if it had screamed in fear.
Twenty-two snacks for the spineys! Shit! “Command override. Close the emergency vacuum bulkheads.”
“Done.”
He tapped his communicator. “Dundas?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“Seal the main hatch into engineering and don’t let any of the bastards in there.”
“Already done, Commander.”
“They’ve grappled us, Commander,” Cavanagh said. “Assault troopers are sliding across the grappling lines toward the main airlock. You’re going to want to see this.”
McFinn tapped a few keys on his pockcomp and the holographic image feed from the main airlock sensor appeared. Three Naati, in their dull gray armor, floated outside the airlock, and more moved along grappling lines toward the Coch. Each Naati had a large oblong object strapped to its chest.
What the fuck are those? Bombs?
A Naati looked at the sensor and smacked it with a fist. The holographic image disappeared.
“They’re knockin’, Sergeant Cobrado. Get ready.” McFinn donned his helmet.
The next few moments seemed like an eternity. Smoke from damaged systems wafted by, and the emergency lights cast a red light throughout the entire deck. McFinn urinated in fear as he knelt and brought his ion rifle to bear, the warmth spreading onto his legs.
Swell.
The inner airlock door exploded with sparks and smoke, shrapnel whizzing by McFinn’s head. He heard an eerie keening sound, a high-pitched tone that seemed to warble and click simultaneously. It was so loud his helmet sensors cut the volume. The sound pierced his mind with fear, and if he hadn’t already pissed his pants, he would have hearing that awful noise.
Oblong objects sprang from the smoke surrounding the airlock. Almost a blur, within a second they covered most of the twenty meters between the airlock and the Marines. Each object moved on four legs, leaping across the deck at great speed.
McFinn fired. Blaster fire hit several of the objects, but even more appeared, and bowled through the assembled Marines, knocking many of them over and shattering their defensive formation. One of the Marines stumbled and knocked McFinn against the bulkhead. McFinn rolled back and away. When he opened his eyes he saw the front part of one of the objects split into four long pieces and fold back, revealing the head of a beast: it had a huge mouth of razor sharp teeth, red feral eyes, and a multitude of spines on its head. The beast howled and bit the upper part of a Marine’s arm. With a sharp movement of its head, it pulled the arm free, armor and all. Blood sprayed out over the floor and the other defenders as the Marine screamed in pain.
Holy fuck!
McFinn rolled backwards and got to his feet. “RETREAT!” he cried. “RETREAT!” As he ran to the first emergency bulkhead, he looked over his shoulder and saw Marines and security personnel following him. He saw others, kneeling or prone, desperately fighting the beasts, their screams filling the corridor as the attackers ripped off their limbs.
God damn it! Seven Marines and six security personnel ran past him. McFinn followed them d
own the corridor and around a corner, and then punched the control for the bulkhead. The large hatch moved down from the ceiling and blocked the corridor in seconds.
The surviving Marines and security personnel knelt on the floor and leaned against the bulkhead. McFinn recognized Sergeant Cobrado. She took off her helmet and looked at him, her eyes full of tears. She leaned over and vomited on the floor.
“What the fuck were those things?” a Marine asked.
“Computer?” McFinn commanded, “identify objects that emerged from the airlock.”
“There is a seventy-three percent chance that the creatures are ulakanar, the pre-modified form of the Naati, as they existed before being genetically modified by the lokkev.”
“We can’t withstand another assault by those things,” Sergeant Cobrado said.
“I agree.” We have no choice. McFinn tapped his pockcomp. “Captain? The Naati are too strong. We’re not going to be able to stop them from accessing the computer core. If the Coch is too damaged to fight back, I recommend we wipe the core.”
Cavanagh didn’t answer for several moments. Just before McFinn spoke again she said, “I agree, Commander. Get back to the command deck.”
“To the command deck,” McFinn ordered. He ran toward the central part of the ship, the surviving Marines and security following. “Computer, close the remaining emergency vacuum bulkheads between the main airlock and the command deck.”
“Done.”
He reached the central lift and began to climb up through the lift tube. McFinn heard the surviving Marines and security personnel below him as he topped the ladder and walked down the corridor to the command deck.
McFinn stood at the sitrep table opposite Cavanagh and saw the surviving Marines and security enter the command deck.
“Computer?” Cavanagh said, “Seal the command deck and display computer core schematic.” A bulkhead rose from the deck and blocked all access to and from Command. A blue holographic image of the cylindrical-shaped computer core appeared over the sitrep table. “Invoke computer core wipe procedure. Authorization Cavanagh, Lillian H., Captain, commanding officer of the Angau Coch.”
“Computer core wipe procedure initiated,” the computer replied. “Scrambler virus loaded into input buffer. Require second authorization from a senior officer.”
“Authorization McFinn, Joshua A., Commander, executive officer of the Angau Coch.”
“Do you want to view a list of systems that will be compromised by the completion of the procedure?”
Cavanagh looked at McFinn. “Commander, if we do this, we’re completely helpless. We can’t even set the ship to self-destruct.”
“Not from here, anyway,” McFinn replied. “There’s still engineering. Besides, we’re not completely done, yet.”
Cavanagh nodded. “Computer: complete the wipe procedure.”
“Releasing scrambler virus into computer core. Goodbye.”
The command deck went dark for a few moments before the emergency lighting activated. The sitrep table remained dark, as did all of the consoles on the command deck.
McFinn tapped his communicator. “Dundas?”
“Yes, Commander.”
“What’s the quickest way to set the antimatter reactor to blow?”
“We can set a charge to disrupt the power coupling for the magnetic containment fields in the reactor. Once those fail the reactor will blow immediately.”
“How long to set that up?”
“I figured something like this was going to happen, so I set it up already.”
McFinn smiled. “Very good, Mr. Dundas. Can you key the detonator to the Captain’s pockcomp?”
“Yes.”
“Good work.” McFinn paused for a moment. “It’s been a pleasure serving with you, Mr. Dundas.”
“Likewise, Commander.”
A loud bang sounded on the other side of the security bulkhead. Cavanagh looked at McFinn. “We’ve been somewhere like this, before.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Cavanagh ordered the crew as far away from the security bulkhead as possible. After what seemed like an eternity, McFinn saw a blinding white flare punch through the door to the control room on the bottom corner
“They’re cutting their way through,” Cavanagh said.
“They want to take prisoners.”
Slowly the flare moved up, over the top, and down the other side, cutting away a great part of the emergency bulkhead. It fell inward with a clank and a cloud of black and gray smoke.
Several figures appeared out of the smoke firing large rifles, the bolts of ionized energy screeching through the air. As he fired from behind the sitrep table, McFinn couldn’t believe the accuracy of the enemy’s fire. Most of the command deck crew did not wear any sort of armor, and despite their effort to fire back, many fell to the deck stunned, injured or dead from the Naati fire. The command crew’s own fire that hit the Naati seemed to dissipate in a shimmering shroud. They have personal defense fields! The Navy had such technology, but reserved it for special units.
A large, armored figure strode through the smoke onto the command deck, shields shimmering with blaster fire. McFinn targeted the thing but couldn’t seem to damage it. It stood for a moment; the helmeted head moved back and forth as if looking for something. The figure’s long arms reached up and removed the helmet.
BLINK
McFinn sat cold and shivering in a plain room; the Intelligence Directorate agents had only allowed him a thin bodysuit. He had been in the room for hours, the agents asking endless questions about what had happened on the third moon of Anuvi III. Several different agents had questioned him over that time, asking the same questions repeatedly, asking the same questions but with different wording, and frequently inserting a query about something totally unrelated. All the while he sat in that cold room he felt as if something was touching his mind, like a tickle at the back of the throat that he couldn’t scratch; he knew they had a telepath somewhere nearby probing his mind.
Another agent entered the room, someone he had never seen before. He couldn’t quite see the agent’s face, or even determine the agent’s gender. It pulled up a chair and sat.
“Now, Commander, we come to something different.” The agent’s voice sounded melodic. McFinn didn’t so much hear the voice as see it as a cascade of colors and feel it as a succession of emotions. “Try and remember the control room under the surface. Can you?”
The room transformed to the vastness of the control room beneath the surface of the third moon of Anuvi III. Scores of meters in diameter, thousands of bright holograms flowed through the space. McFinn saw the holographic projection of the moon suspended above the great Throne, the control chair that was the heart of the device’s nervous system. “I can see it now,” McFinn heard himself say.
“Very good, Commander. Can you tell me who is there with you?”
Figures appeared in the chamber. “Of course. Captain Cavanagh is here, along with my own crew from the Talon: Petty Officer Mikal Dundas and Astronaut Stephen Fuchs, the pilot Dieter Albrecht, and the Specialists Gordon Baez, Thomas Gibbons, and Richard Guthrie. Captain William Bandele and Doctors Hans Beckenbaur and Heather Ferrel from the Vitus Bering are here also.”
“Excellent, Commander. Can you remember anyone else?”
“Yes. Chief Petty Officer Vincent Trik of the Vitus Bering is here.” A dark cloud formed near the entrance to the control chamber, and Bacchus Freedman appeared, pushing a power stretcher. “Bacchus Freedman and his sister, Demeter, have just arrived.”
“Do you remember what happened to all of these people?”
McFinn briefly saw a Naati lean over and take a bite out of Trik’s neck. “Vincent Trik died defending us.” He saw the corpses of his crew. “Along with Baez, Gibbons, and Guthrie, and Albrecht.” The sadness grew in him as he considered the lives lost. “Bacchus and Demeter Freedman remained on the moon after Cavanagh and I escaped.”
“What about Hans Beckenbaur, He
ather Ferrel, and William Bandele? Did they perish, as well?”
“Captain Cavanagh ordered them to the surface before the Naati’s final assault.”
“Excellent, Commander. Do you know what became of those three?”
“The last I heard they had returned to Earth.”
Lillian turned around and ran toward him. “No! Joshua, no! Don’t tell it anything!”
The figure transformed into a black and spiny cloud. McFinn felt the heat and smelled the stench wafting off the figure. Before he could run, he felt a force grab him. McFinn couldn’t move.
“Captain Cavanagh,” the figure spoke, but its voice had changed, as if several voices spoke at once. The melody in the voice was gone; it was deep, bestial, and reverberated throughout the chamber. The scene changed. They all stood in the surface chamber of the tower on the third moon of Anuvi III. Several yallic slaves shuffled around the floor, moving in between several bio-medical observation chambers. Four of the chambers lay in the center of the space, and through the transparent covers, McFinn saw a hairless Naati in each of three chambers. The cover of the fourth lay open.
“Let him go!” Cavanagh cried. She pulled out her sidearm and aimed it at the figure.
The force shifted and McFinn realized the figure had changed again. It was now a beast of claws and spines and teeth and a multitude of bulging red eyes. The figures in the biomedical observation chambers changed into the same form.
The bestial voice filled the chamber, but McFinn did not hear it so much as feel it. “Lillian Cavanagh, Captain of the Angau Coch, and operative for the General Intelligence Directorate.”
What?
Cavanagh looked at McFinn. “It was an order from the Consul herself. Either allow an agent on the Coch, or have one of the officers cross train in intelligence. I chose the latter, and I chose me.”
“Why?” McFinn asked.
“I know you would have volunteered, but I didn’t want to place the burden on your shoulders.” She paused. “I love you, Joshua McFinn. I should have made you transfer to another ship, but I couldn’t bear to be away from you. Now my selfishness has placed you in danger.”
The Borrega Test Page 7
