Remnants: Broken Galaxy Book Five

by Phil Huddleston

  Over the PA system, they heard Captain Stewart call everyone for the attempt to deflect the third impactor.

  And with that, Jim/Cotrapi turned and shuffled off toward the bridge of the Armidale.

  Phoenix System

  Outside the Jail

  “Mark Rodgers,” said the tall, gray-haired man. He pointed to another man, younger, even more bruised and battered. “This is Luke Powell. We’re mighty glad to see you, son.”

  Mac nodded, glancing at Luke. “Tatiana’s father?” he asked.

  “Yes,” said Luke. “How is she?”

  “She was good last time I saw her, sir,” Mac replied. “This morning about 1 AM. She’ll be with the group attacking from the west.”

  “Outstanding,” said Luke. “So what’s next?”

  “We’ll take you folks out to the west a bit and secure you in a location away from danger,” said Mac.

  “Bullshit,” said the female, who had introduced herself as Zoe DeLong. “No way. That sonuvabitch Turgenev will be around here somewhere. We’re gonna find him and kick his fucking ass,” she continued.

  “No, mum,” insisted Mac. “My orders are to secure your safety. We’ll find a safe place to wait this out.”

  The third man - introduced as Rick Moore - had not yet spoken. Now he interjected. “You can go find a safe spot for yourself, if you want, but we’re going to get Turgenev.” And with that, he picked up a rifle from one of the dead bodies on the floor, grabbed the ammo belt, and headed for the door.

  Zoe DeLong and Luke Powell mimicked his actions, taking the other two rifles and ammo belts. Mark, Luke, and Zoe headed for the door.

  “No, wait, please!” yelled Mac, at a loss. “I can’t disobey my orders!”

  Mark paused and looked at him.

  “Son, I’m the Governor of this colony. My orders supersede those of Tatiana Powell. So we’re going to get Turgenev. You can come or you can stay. Up to you.”

  The four slammed the door open and went outside. Mac looked at Olivia and shrugged.

  “I guess we have new orders,” he said. Olivia smiled. Together, they followed the civilians.

  Outside, they found the four huddling, discussing their next steps.

  “Where would you be, if you were Turgenev?” Mark asked.

  Rick Moore scratched his forehead, thinking. “I think I’d be right in the center of Central Park, protected by a ring of troops.”

  Zoe shook her head. “Nope. Too much chance of something going wrong, being caught in the middle of a nasty firefight. Turgenev’s not going to take a chance on that. He’ll be in one of the apartment blocks, probably up on the roof where he can get a good view of things.”

  Mark looked at Luke. “Well? What do you think?”

  Luke grimaced, looking around in the darkness. “On balance, I think I’d go with Zoe’s idea. I think he’ll be up there somewhere, watching things play out below him.”

  “But which one?” Mark thought out loud. “There are fourteen apartment blocks now.”

  “One of the unfinished ones,” said Zoe. “That way, he doesn’t have to worry about people getting in his way or coming in behind him.”

  “OK, one of the unfinished Blocks,” said Mark. “There’s four of those in work. Which one?”

  Mac had a thought. “The one closest to the center on the west side, sir,” he said. “He’ll have picked up on Battalion East coming in through the forest on the east side first, so he would have taken the block opposite that.”

  Mark smiled at the young militiaman. “By George, son, I think you’re right. That’s what he would do.”

  Mark turned back to the others. “That would be Block Eleven, then. That’s the unfinished one closest to the center on the west side.”

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go get him!” said Rick.

  “Wait,” Luke spoke up. “We need a plan. It doesn’t do any good to go in guns blazing and get shot to hell.”

  A silence fell over the group as they thought. Rick spoke up again. “We could go steal a shuttle and drop in on him from above.”

  Zoe reached over and touched Rick on the cheek in a loving gesture, but - as women have a talent for doing - a gesture that also admonished him in some undefined way.

  “Hon, we’d have to fight our way through the main part of his troops to get to a shuttle. I don’t think I want to do that.”

  Rick shrugged, nodded.

  Mac threw out another idea. “We have climbing ropes in our packs. We could climb up the outside of the Block.”

  Mark looked at the young man. “The outside of those Blocks is as smooth as a baby’s ass. Nothing to secure the ropes.”

  “Then,” Luke said. “We just have to walk right in like we own the place.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Mark.

  Luke gestured back toward the jail. “We’ve got three bodies there with Turgenev’s militia patches on their shirts. Three of us put on their uniforms. We go report to Turgenev that his prisoners have escaped. I’m betting he’ll want to know the details and have us brought right to him.”

  Mark nodded. “That’s reasonable. I think I like that. But…he knows all of us.”

  Mark turned his gaze to Mac. “Son, are you up for this?”

  Mac nodded. To his surprise, all his fear had dissipated. He had never felt stronger in his life.

  “Yes, sir,” he answered.

  “And me too,” added Olivia.

  Mac looked at her, protectiveness overtaking him.

  “No, Olivia. Stay here.”

  “In a pig’s eye,” Olivia spat back at him.

  Stree System

  Corvette Armidale

  Captain Stewart had brought the ship to battle stations. Commander Brady sat at the XO console, with Lieutenant Hodges at Helm. Jim Carter and Rachel Gibson entered the bridge, Rachel moving to the Tactical station and Jim to Comm. Both had just returned from the cargo bay, where Luda had assisted them in switching back to their default android bodies. The rest sat or stood behind Stewart, out of the way.

  “ETA to intercept?” asked Captain Stewart.

  “Four minutes,” called Brady. “On course. We’ll nose right into that little crack on the near side of the asteroid as gently as possible. Then we’ll start to push.”

  “Captain, message from Rauti. He’s warning us off,” called Jim.

  “Or what?”

  “Um…he says if we don’t get clear, he’ll turn the pusher missile toward us and ram us.”

  “I was afraid of this. OK, Rachel. Take him out.”

  With a nod, Rachel fired a spread of four missiles at the pusher behind the asteroid. They ran straight and true directly toward the huge missile. The pusher disappeared in a fiery explosion.

  Stewart sighed. “So ends Commander Rauti.” He turned to Luda and Liwa standing behind. “I’m sorry, Luda,” he spoke.

  Luda shrugged. “He had lost his mind, Captain. It is well.”

  “Two minutes to intercept, Skipper,” called Brady.

  Stewart turned back to the Goblins and Humans behind him.

  “It might be best if you went to your cabins and strapped in. This could get a little rough.”

  Bonnie shook her head in negation. “I’m staying right here, Captain.”

  The rest joined in with Bonnie, refusing to leave.

  “So be it,” said Stewart. He turned back to his work, dismissing the fate of those watching. He had bigger fish to fry.

  “One minute to intercept,” called Brady.

  The Armidale was now traveling at 30% light speed - 89 million meters per second. 201,073,619 miles per hour. She would cover the remaining 75 million miles to Stree Prime in only fourteen minutes.

  But other than the obvious problem of impacting space dust at near-relativistic speeds, or running into the stray chunk of debris from the planet, the intercept was not particularly difficult. There was no apparent motion relative to the impactor. It hung in space before them, a huge oblong rock, ne
arly motionless to their view as they inched up closer and closer to it. The impactor was mostly white, covered in ice; but there were a couple of places where the underlying rock showed through. One of those places was a small crevasse, a shallow crack in the surface of the asteroid. That was the Armidale’s target. Carefully, Lieutenant Hodges began nosing the Armidale into the crack, trying to bring it up against the asteroid without damaging the integrity of the hull.

  Everyone on the bridge held their breath as second by second, Hodges pushed the Armidale up into the crack. If he approached too slowly, they would not have enough time to push the rock off-course and cause it to miss the planet. If he approached too quickly, he’d crack the hull of the Armidale like an egg.

  “Just a little bit quicker, Lieutenant, if you please,” called Brady, watching the countdown clock on his console. They were running out of time.

  Hodges gulped and nodded his head. He tweaked the maneuvering jets a tiny bit. Sweat poured down his forehead.

  “Ten meters,” called Brady. “A bit too fast now.”

  Hodges tweaked his maneuvering jets again, and the Armidale began to slow down.

  “Five meters, still a bit fast,” called Brady.

  Hodges nodded, worked his controls. Then with a great “clunk” the Armidale hit the asteroid, bounced back a bit, moved forward again and settled into position, its nose pushed firmly into the crevasse on the rock.

  “Hull integrity?” Stewart called out.

  Rachel, working the Tac Console, replied quickly.

  “No evidence of hull breach. Pressure is holding.”

  “Excellent. Good work, Hodges. You are now fully qualified to poke ships into asteroids.”

  Hodges gulped again, nodded, and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

  “Aye, sir. Ready to push,” he responded.

  “OK. Give us a gentle push at first, let’s see if we’ve got a firm contact.”

  “Gentle push coming, sir.”

  Displayed in the lower right corner of the holotank, the assembled group could see the Armidale’s engine thrust and the pressure on the nose. Now the thrust number slowly increased from 1% to 2% as Hodges gently tweaked the main engines.

  “So far so good,” called Brady. “We seem to have a firm position on the rock, and hull integrity is still good.”

  “Bring us slowly up to 10%, Hodges,” called Stewart. “Easy does it.”

  “Aye, Skipper,” called Hodges. The thrust on the display moved slowly but steadily to 10%. The hull pressure indicator moved as well, rising to 20% of maximum.

  “OK. Looks like the pressure on the nose is going up by twice the thrust level, at least so far. Bring us up to 25%, Hodges.”

  “Aye, Skipper.”

  The display moved slowly to 25%. The pressure on the nose moved along with it to 50% of maximum.

  “45%, Hodges.”

  As the group watched, the thrust increased slowly to 45%. But the pressure on the nose spiked suddenly to 99% of theoretical maximum. Creaking and groaning noises could be heard from the front of the ship. The Armidale was clearly indicating her displeasure at so much load.

  “Brady?” called Stewart.

  Brady shook his head. “Not enough, Skipper. It’ll still hit the planet. We’ve got to have at least another 10% thrust to move it off the line in time.”

  Stewart looked grim. “I don’t think she’ll take another 10%, XO. She’s already groaning like an old woman.”

  Stewart turned to the group behind him. He said not a word, but looked straight at Bonnie, holding her eyes.

  Bonnie knew what Stewart was asking. Except in the minds of these few Human survivors, the EDF didn’t exist anymore. It was now just a warrior’s memory, on this little corvette in the middle of the enemy.

  But in the mind of Captain Stewart, Bonnie was still the senior EDF officer on the Armidale. Stewart was asking permission to endanger both his ship and the lives of everyone on board.

  Bonnie nodded silently at Stewart. Without a word being said, Stewart turned back to his console.

  “Hodges. Increase thrust to 55%. As slowly as you can, but still fast enough to push this damn rock off course before it hits the planet.”

  Hodges took a deep breath. Slowly, carefully, he tweaked the thrust controls. The Armidale protested, loud groans coming from the front of the ship as composite and metal compressed in a way never envisioned for a spaceship design. A loud pop made everyone jump in their seat as something gave way up front. Rachel, eyes glued to her console, lifted one finger in the air, a visual indication to everyone that they still had pressure. All eyes were glued on that finger as the Armidale continued to creak and groan, with occasional pops and bangs coming from forward.

  And then Hodges raised both hands from his console, as if he were afraid to even touch his controls again for fear of breaking the ship.

  “55%, sir,” he called.

  On the front display, the hull pressure indicator flashed red numbers at them, standing at 125% of maximum. Warning chimes went off on every console on the bridge. Everyone froze, afraid to move.

  Every so slightly, the curve of the impactor’s trajectory on the front display began to change. Slowly, the projected curve shifted, moving at a snail’s pace, changing from its original target on the surface of the planet. First only slightly, then more, then it curved until it showed an impact on the edge of the planet. Then the projected curve cleared the planetary surface - a trajectory that would streak through the lower atmosphere. Ever so slowly, the curve raised away from the surface, higher into the atmosphere.

  “Out of time!” yelled Brady. “Back us off, Hodges! Get us the hell out of here!”

  “Aye, sir,” Hodges yelled in response, his adrenalin high. “Backing off!”

  The Armidale withdrew from the asteroid as fast as Hodges could work the controls, the hull once again popping and creaking as the load was removed. Rachel continued to hold up her finger, showing they still had hull integrity - and pressure. As soon as Hodges had room, he fired the mains at max, streaking past the impactor on a vector to get them clear of the planet - and the massive amounts of debris that swirled around it from the first two impacts.

  “Are we good?” called Stewart.

  “I think so,” Hodges responded. “Give me a few more seconds…”

  Hodges was bent over his console, pushing keys to analyze their vector, watching for stray junk from the planet and selecting a course that would keep them clear. Stewart, impatient, unbuckled his harness and rose from his seat, walked to Hodges’ console, and put a hand on his shoulder. Silently, he watched as Hodges worked, saying nothing but giving the young lieutenant encouragement.

  After a long minute in which nobody said a word, Hodges leaned back with a sigh.

  “We’re clear, sir,” he said, looking up at his captain. “Decelerating down to normal speeds and clear of the planetary debris.”

  Stewart nodded. He turned to Brady.

  “And the impactor?”

  “It missed clean, sir,” replied Brady. “Not by much, but…well…horseshoes and hand grenades. It missed by enough. It’s on its way back out-system now. At that velocity, it’ll depart the system. We’ll never see it again.”

  Stewart turned in his seat to look at Bonnie behind him.

  “What next, boss?” he asked.

  “Let’s get the hell out of Dodge,” said Bonnie. “We’ve got a good gap between us and the battlecruiser now. They couldn’t catch us even if they wanted to. Find a vector that’ll keep our distance from them and head us back to Stalingrad.”

  Stewart looked grim.

  “Are you sure you want to go to Stalingrad? Nothing there but…wreckage.”

  “I’m sure,” said Bonnie. She looked around at Luda and Liwa. They nodded solemnly. She turned back to Stewart.

  “We may only find wreckage. But by God, we’ll not abandon them without trying. We’ll search that system for survivors for as long as it takes.”

  Ph
oenix System

  Turgenev Headquarters

  Turgenev was almost ecstatic. He had been certain his plan would work - but it was actually working better than his wildest dreams. His Northern Force had roared in, taking Misha’s Battalion East in the flank. Pushing Misha south, the pressure was off his Central Force as Misha fought for his life from this new and unexpected attack.

  That freed up Central Force to turn on Tatiana. As they brought the full measure of their firepower around to face the west, they had stopped her in her tracks.

  As soon as she was fully engaged, his Southern Force had attacked. They came into Tatiana’s flank like a prairie fire. She was now fighting for her life, caught between a rock and a hard place. She was retreating, moving her troops back into the jungle, as Turgenev’s militia pressed her from two sides.

  Another hour and she’ll have no choice but to retreat all the way back to her landing area, try to survive long enough for the shuttles to come pick her up.

  This is almost over.

  ***

  Mac, Olivia, and Mac’s assistant squad leader Frank Masters walked resolutely toward Block Eleven. They wore the uniforms of the three guards they had killed, and carried their rifles. They had made a valiant attempt to wash out the blood from the uniforms and cover the bullet holes. It was a quick patch job, but they had arranged bandoleers of ammunition over the worst of it and crossed their fingers.

  They knew, without looking, that the rest of their team, along with Mark, Luke, Rick, and Zoe, were shadowing them a hundred yards to the west, hidden in the shadows of the tent city.

  It seemed they had guessed correctly; there was a constant stream of messengers coming and going from the Block.

  “That’s his HQ, alright,” muttered Olivia.

  “Yep,” said Frank.

  “Here we go,” Mac added as they approached. There was a table set up in front of the building, with an officer sitting behind it. There were a half-dozen guards lounging nearby in what appeared to be lawn chairs.

  Acting as naturally as he could, Mac marched up to the building, centered himself in front of the officer, and snapped to attention.