by Daniel Gibbs
A part of Henry felt concern about letting an unarmed civilian die, an old part that never quite went away. He pushed it away. Sharma living or dying was out of his hands.
"Do you see them?" he heard Piper shout from her cover.
"Three shooters," Felix replied. "Confirmed. One near the loader, one at the storage building…" A flash of yellow struck the ground nearby. "...make that two in the storage building and four confirmed."
"What's the plan, Captain?" Vidia asked before squeezing a shot off with his xaser pistol. The purple tracer light showed the path the invisible beam of concentrated x-rays took before they scorched the side of the storage building entrance, right by one of the shooters.
The initial instinct was to hightail it. Get everyone aboard, close the hold, take off. But they only had about sixty percent of the shipment aboard, and Henry suspected Lou wouldn't find that acceptable. Especially if they cut and run. Lou would make sure others heard about it, and that kind of reputation would hurt their earnings prospects, not to mention making them look like easy pickings for pirates and other thieves looking for easy scores. "We fight them off and get the rest of the shipment," he called out. He squeezed another shot off with his weapon before returning to cover. He took out his commlink. "Cera, Pieter, get the engines hot so we can lift off, and Tia, I need you to get me something," he said into the link.
"I understand," Tia said. She'd know what he meant.
"Make that five confirmed shooters," Felix called out. His weapon fired, and there was a distant cry. "Now there’s four."
"Nice shot," Brigitte said before leaning out from her cover. Her plasma pistol spat angry, ruby-red plasma bursts in the general direction of the side of the loader building. Yellow energy struck the area around her, including one burst that came within centimeters of her forehead.
"Brig, get your ass back into cover!" Piper hissed.
"Jim, do we have eyes on the port side?" Felix asked. "They might have friends."
Henry recognized Felix's point. These shooters could be suppressing them so that allies could hit them from behind. "Cera, check visuals. Do we have anyone on the port side?"
"I'm checking it now, Captain," she replied.
"Jim!" Tia's voice calling his name drew Henry's attention toward the upper deck. She was standing there carrying what he'd intended her to bring. "Catch!"
Henry put his pistol down and had his arms ready for when the family rifle landed into them. It was an old Saurian Wars model from just before the turn of the century, but it spent those decades being well-maintained. He tapped a key on the side and a scope rose from the top. "Get to the port-side pulse guns," he said to Tia. "We've got hostiles!"
Tia nodded and ran along the catwalk to the exit.
By this point, Yanik was in place too, carrying his preferred weapon and the crew's ace in the hole. Like Henry's family rifle, it was a relic of the Saurian Wars, a heavy pulse plasma cannon that used to be the terror of Coalition infantry. For a Human being, it looked more like a portable cannon, but in Yanik's arms, it was just an enormous assault rifle. He gave Yanik a pair of hand gestures, indicating the roles they were about to play tactically. The Saurian nodded once in agreement.
Yanik moved out of cover and pulled the trigger. Yellow pulses shot out from the rotating barrels of the weapon, forming a stream he moved from point to point, forcing the shooters to keep their heads down.
"Everyone, get loading again!" Henry cried out. "We'll cover you!"
He could see from the look on her face that Piper thought he was nuts, but the others responded by going for their loading machines. They would still have some cover while using them, and Yanik's weapon was a solid motivation for their attackers to keep their heads down. Henry rolled out of his cover to lie prone on the hold floor, his right eye focused through the scope. He wasn't a trained sniper, but he'd managed some impressive shots while hunting with Uncle Charlie growing up, and this wasn't the first time he'd used the rifle since leaving the Coalition.
Vidia and Brigitte were rushing past with two more stacks of crates, when one of the shooters showed in Henry's scope. Now that he had a good look, he could see it was a Jalm'tar, given the shape of the horned structure on the figure's head. The shooter was trying to avoid drawing Yanik's attention while trying to aim. Henry lined up the crosshairs and pulled the trigger.
Since he was not a sharpshooter, he didn't expect a direct hit, and he didn't get one. What he did get was a glancing hit that still did some of the job, as the particle bolt from his pulse rifle scorched the entire side of the shooter's neck and lower head with a glancing hit. Even if the shot was unlikely to be fatal, it did the desired work of removing the shooter from consideration for the moment. "Three shooters," he said.
Yanik nodded. He moved to the side, his weapon inactive only for a moment before its barrage resumed, spitting yellow energy at the storage structure.
Henry lined up his next shot on one of the active shooters inside of the structure. This time, his shot didn't make the mark, impacting the side of the doorway instead, but he accomplished the primary goal of keeping the enemy suppressed as the shooter recoiled back into cover at the sparks his shot sent up. Beside him, he heard Piper cursing under her breath as she pulled one of the crate stacks in. Felix was already on his way back out, pistol in hand and firing as he ran to add to their suppressive fire.
The sound of short, repeating thundercracks told them all that one of the Shadow Wolf's quad pulse gun turrets was firing. "We've got five on this side," Tia revealed. "Well, it was five. I'm forcing them to stay down as much as I can, but eventually, one is going to get too close for the turret to engage."
"Understood." Henry tracked his rifle over to another Jalm'tar shooter, this one now behind a set of crates just outside the storage area. He fired a shot that convinced the shooter to stay in cover.
At this point, between Henry's rifle fire and the indiscriminate spray of Yanik's heavy weapon, the shooters on this side were not daring to leave cover. On the other side of the ship, the turret continued to fire and keep the second team from joining the fight. The others on the crew were free to finish the loading job, if at a rush. The four were going as quickly as they could, not bothering to carefully arrange the piles they brought in but only leaving enough space to get around. A couple of shots still came their way that missed completely, no surprise given how rushed they were in shooting to avoid Yanik's withering fire.
"Jim, at least one's gotten past," Tia said over the link.
"I read you. We're just finishing up here," he answered, standing as he did. With a finger press, he retracted the scope on the rifle, which came apart and slid back into its compartment at the top of the rifle.
Felix brought the last stack aboard. There was no room for in the main hold without blocking their path, so he turned to leave it in the airlock.
An armed Jalm'tar jumped up the side of the loading ramp, weapon up. "Yanik!" Henry shouted, warning his Second Mate. The warning came just in time, as the Jalm'tar's shot came just as Yanik jumped to his side, surprisingly spry given his imposing size. The yellow bolt hit the tough metal alloy of the hold. The shooter rushed forward, trying to get a clean shot on the big Saurian.
With the others having no clear shots, scattered among the crate piles as they were, it fell to Henry and Felix to shoot the attacker, which they did with lethal precision. Multiple pulse shots struck the Jalm'tar’s center of mass. The alien's body spasmed in pain from the impacts and toppled forward, landing inside the airlock door.
With Yanik's suppressing fire ceasing, the other remaining shooters facing the Shadow Wolf's starboard opened up again. Felix scrambled into the hold while Henry hit the outer airlock door. The door began sliding closed, and the ramp started retracting itself into its storage area beneath the deck. The attackers kept firing regardless, forcing everyone to stay in cover.
Finally, the outer door slid shut, cutting off the incoming fire. Henry immediately went to see a
bout his unexpected passenger. He had to pass the various disorganized stacks to find Oskar was on a knee beside her. He felt relief to see Sharma's eyes were open, although they had the wide-eyed look of pain he expected for someone who’d been shot. "How is she?" he asked.
"Nothing vital was hit, from what I can tell," Oskar said. "I want to get her to my infirmary for a full examination."
"Vidia, Brig, help, please. Everyone else to stations." Henry keyed his link. "Cera, take off, now. I'm not risking these guys finding a way aboard."
"Roger that, Captain," came the reply.
As her attackers approached, the Shadow Wolf's ventral-mounted graviton-aided launch thrusters fired. At least one was close enough to be caught in the field, an immediately-fatal experience. The rest could only look up in frustration as their quarry's rear drives came to life and the ship shot skyward.
Henry made his way back to the upper deck with Piper behind him. Tia was already back on the bridge when they arrived. "We're being hailed by planetary authorities," Tia said. "They're demanding we land immediately."
"Of course they are. Well, I'm not going to risk that someone official was involved in that attack. Get me Hrik'ma."
"I've got his call code here…"
The vision of the edge of Yan'katar's atmosphere was replaced by that of the Jalm'tar dignitary. "Captain, I am informed there was violence. What is going on?"
"We were attacked by Jalm'tar," Henry said. "We managed to get the entire shipment aboard, and I’m not sticking around to get shot at."
"Planetary traffic control has undoubtedly ordered you to land. Fighters will come for you next. This is quite bold of my enemies."
"If you can cover for us…"
"I am doing so now." Henry thought he saw displeasure on the Jalm'tar dignitary's face. "Traffic control has been ordered to let you go, Captain. I am again impressed by Master Lou's choice of operative."
"Thank you."
"Speaking of Lou's agents, how is Emissary Sharma? Was she harmed?"
"Yes, and my doctor is dealing with it."
"How disturbing." Henry noticed a twitch in the alien's facial muscles. "I have cleared your departure from our system, Captain. May the Spirit of Fortitude see you through your journey."
"Thank you, Consul."
The Jalm'tar male's head nodded slightly before the call ended, returning the bridge's liquid crystal display to one of open space, the tip of the planetary atmosphere showing at the bottom.
"Nothing on scanners," Piper noted.
"Good. Keep an eye on them until we reach the limit." Henry looked down and realized he was still holding his rifle. He smiled thinly at that while considering the image it must have given Hrik'ma. Then he stood and nodded to Tia. "I'll be back. Just putting this up."
Tia nodded in understanding as he walked past.
Henry returned to his office and set the rifle back on its stand. He considered the silvery sheen of the weapon and the faux-wood stock of reddish-brown. It wasn't the first time it had saved his life out here.
Which was fitting, since at one point, it might have ended it.
Tylerville
New Virginia, Terran Coalition
28 May 2546
* * *
Henry returned to his homeworld New Virginia in quiet disgrace. If he had anywhere else to go, he would’ve, but a cashed out major's pension wouldn't last forever. At least here, there’d be time to figure out what was next.
Ordinarily, jobs in the merchant marine or in shipyards were always open to ex-CDF personnel. But his dismissal was the equivalent of a dishonorable discharge for an enlisted man; it was like a felony criminal conviction for a civilian, a permanent blemish on someone's life that many employers would turn their noses up at. Especially for a dismissal during wartime, since it gave the implication of someone so untrustworthy, they couldn't be used even on the front. Finding a job would be a significant challenge.
The return to his hometown Tylerville was not the one he'd hoped for when he left to attend the CDF Academy. There were no cheering neighbors and family to greet him as a hero returning from the war. No victory celebrations he'd dreamed of. Nobody greeted him when he stepped off of the bus from Manassas. He had to call for a taxi service to bring him home. The taxi service vehicle was manned, driven by a Caucasian man in a blue jacket and suit pants. This was an experience Henry hadn't had on many other worlds, but one he knew he'd always have here.
It was a reminder he was home, and that he would likely never see any of those worlds ever again.
Mary and Thomas Henry were not expecting him. They were aware of what happened but hadn't known he was returning to Tylerville. Neither refused him, of course. Whatever else, he was their son, and they gave him his old room and his space. At dinner, the only subject was catching him up on family news and local issues.
And they both noticed when he stared a moment too long at the family rifle on the mantel.
It was only at dinner the second day back that his father finally took his hand. "Jim, boy, the things they're saying, they don't make sense to us," he said, his baritone rumbling. "What happened out there? What did you get caught up with?"
"I can't talk about it," Henry answered. "I'm not allowed. Part of the… part of my sentence." He couldn't bring himself to admit it was one of the terms of his surrender.
"Not even to your folks, son?" Mary asked, looking up from her dinner plate.
"Nobody," he said. "Or I and my crew, we go to the stockade. For life."
The two elder Henrys gasped a little at that and shared uncertain looks. "Oh," was all his father managed. A glimpse of shame came to his face, and Henry could look into his father's eyes and know why he felt it.
Because, at that moment, a part of Thomas Henry wondered if his son, whom he believed to be a good and honest man, had truly done something wrong, if he was indeed guilty.
It was then that James Henry started seriously considering if he should kill himself. And he gave the rifle another look.
His father noticed the look. "Since you're home, why don't you go up and visit Charlie?" his father asked, his tone measured and careful. "He'd love to see you."
Henry said nothing. The last time he'd seen Charlie Henry, it'd been during his leave on making major, just before his assignment to the Sun Yat-sen. Back when he had been a war hero and not a disgrace. "I'm… I'm not sure, Dad," he finally admitted. "Let me think a couple of days, okay?"
His parents shared a worried look as Henry's eyes drifted back to the rifle.
The thought now percolating in the back of his mind wasn’t an urge or even a serious consideration. It was a thought of a possibility. That perhaps his life was truly over, and everyone he loved would be better off if he were dead and gone. No longer here to provide them embarrassment or pain. It was the kind of thought which had room to grow.
"Son." Thomas Henry's voice was lowered to almost a gentle whisper. "Whatever happened, you can get through this." When Henry didn't react, his father, the worry never vanishing from his face, struggled for a suggestion, until he managed to say, "I can call Reverend Gill, have him come over."
The name of the minister of the Tylerville Methodist Church, the church Henry had gone to since he had been able to think, would once have stirred happy memories and a general positive feeling to his spirit. Now it seemed to slough off of him. Henry shook his head. "No, Dad. I don't think he can help me."
"He's as good a man of God as any," Mary assured him.
"So he is, but that's not going to help." As Henry spoke the words, his eyes never left the weapon.
Again a shared look, this time with greater worry, between the Henrys. "Son, if you don't think the Reverend can help… maybe you should go higher," Mary proposed. "Sit down. Talk to God. He knows what you're suffering, and He knows the truth. He'll show you the way."
The two were surprised at the contemptuous little sound to come from Henry's throat. Neither could quite believe the disbelief in that sound
, the fact that they'd just heard their son scoff at the idea. "Jim?" Thomas asked.
Henry finally turned from the rifle, and when he did, his eyes were utterly cold, his expression set in stone. "I did talk to God. I spent a night talking, begging, for him to speak to me. And do you know what I heard?"
Seconds passed. Neither could bring themselves to answer.
"Nothing," Henry answered. "The night I needed Him most, when I was facing disgrace at the hands of powerful, corrupt men who wanted me to surrender, when I needed guidance the most, I prayed, and I heard nothing in reply. Can you understand what that's like? I've spent my whole life believing God was in our lives, believing in everything Reverend Gill and the others preached. I've spent years fighting a war, facing death day after day, and watched good people die with God's name on their lips, convinced that God, whatever we called Him, was on our side, and would help us win. We'd go off into battle wishing each other 'Godspeed,' knowing that it might be the last thing we say to one another. And now, now I realize… all of those lives, our war, our suffering, Felix's and mine and Captain Soto's and all of the others. It might have all been for nothing." As he spoke those words, Henry watched the horrified expressions of his parents. It was dawning on them, and on him as well, as he finally gave voice to the emptiness he felt within him.
"Jim, I," Mary's voice failed, and there was despair on her face at the realization her son was suffering, body and soul, and she did not know how to heal him.
"And on top of that, on top of that… my whole life is down the drain. Every effort I've made in the past fifteen years is for nothing." Henry's vision of his distraught parents blurred from the tears welling in his eyes. "Everything I've done is gone. Lost forever. And so is my future. I," He swallowed. "I've got nothing left."