ARMS Helm's End: (Book 7)

by Stephen Arseneault

  Harris asked, "That getup in the trench?"

  "That's it, yes. We'll be moving straight forward. Your team will be providing suppression fire. See that far boulder?"

  "Yes."

  "I'll be going atop so I have a shot at that apparatus."

  Harris half frowned. "That's a suicide run. Let Keeler take us around this end and to the back side of that trench. We can push our way right to it."

  Gwendell thought and nodded. "I like it. We'll move in with you as you go, providing you with cover fire."

  Keeler nodded. "Let's do this."

  Harris followed the three slugs as they moved up to the next set of boulders. Gwendell returned to her team, moving them forward as well. Dust being kicked up from plasma strikes swirled around, blown by an easy, dry breeze. Burrell bodies littered the field, many falling where they had been camped before having a chance to join the fight.

  As the assault mini-team moved up, a group of Burrell emerged from behind a large boulder. Laser fire erupted. Black smudges zapped the ground as the lasers impacted. Harris was the last to move, getting caught in the open when they began firing. He yelled and rolled to cover—cover that had not come soon enough.

  Keeler said, "Hold up, sir. You've been hit."

  Harris winced. "I can feel it."

  Rump shot, sir. We need to get that battlesuit off."

  "What?"

  "Just the lower half. Unclip those latches."

  Harris reluctantly complied.

  "On your belly, sir. Flaxman? You have that burn cream?"

  "Right here."

  "Lemme have it."

  Keeler smiled. "Nice rump, sir. Except for the burned flesh of course. This is gonna hurt like the dickens when it goes on. Give it five seconds and the pain will subside. You ever had a burn before, sir?"

  "Not there."

  Keeler chuckled. "Flaxman, Burwitz, take a look at this."

  Harris asked, "What are you doing?"

  "Battlefield education, sir. I show this once and they know how to tend others."

  "It's a burn. You put on the cream and a bandage. What's to learn?"

  "Sorry, sir, you just have nice buns. I wanted to show the team."

  "What?"

  "Other than the burned mess on this side. Nothing to be ashamed of, sir."

  "Well, can you close that up so we can take our objective?"

  "Relax, sir. Objective is being taken. We have a team destroying it now. They came in from the west. Ladies, check your comms. They should be functional."

  Gwendell walked up with the others. "Fighting is wrapping up. The resistance collapsed. We have teams doing mop-up. What's going on here?"

  "Battlefield triage, ma'am. Gruberg took one to the rump."

  Harris looked up at the grinning slugs who were standing around him. "OK, ladies, the peep show is over. Can we get this wrapped up and get my lower suit latched back on?"

  Gwendell pointed. "Wait, is that a... a mole?"

  The other slugs giggled and chuckled.

  Harris shook his head. Keeler? Cream? This is painful, you know."

  "Sorry, sir."

  A squirt of gel came from the tube. Harris did his best to not scream out. Keeler removed her glove and began to spread the substance.

  "Oh my... firm."

  Harris growled. "Remove your hand, Keeler, or I'll remove it for you."

  The offending hand was withdrawn. "Sorry, never knew a stump to be so sensitive, or modest."

  Gwendell said, "Button him up, girls. You've had your fun."

  Harris continued to make a face as the sting from the burn failed to fade. "Thought you said the pain would fade in about five seconds." Harris glanced at the tube of cream sitting atop a small rock. "Wait a second, that's nothing more than skin lotion."

  Keeler smirked. "Gets dry out here, sir. Us ladies have sensitive skin."

  "And dirty minds. At least tell me how bad it is back there."

  "You'll live. I doubt it will blister, and it won't scar. Your suit took the brunt of it."

  "So this was all a case of slugs getting their jollies at my expense?"

  Keeler grinned as she flipped a final latch on the lower suit.

  Harris sighed. "Well, I guess I should be flattered and not embarrassed. If I'm to be abused, I guess I'd rather it be by a bunch of ass-kickers like you. Help me to my feet."

  — Chapter 19 —

  * * *

  Harris walked gently as he came to the top of the hill where Tawn was laying.

  Tawn chuckled. "What happened to you?"

  Harris turned. "Butt got fried."

  "You OK?"

  "Other than a bit of humiliation, yeah."

  "Humiliation?"

  "The squad of slugs I was with took a few minor liberties with fixing me up. Rubbed the damage down with hand cream while telling me it was for burns."

  Tawn chuckled. "Sounds like something slugs would do."

  The colonel walked up with a grin. "Gruberg, heard your squad took good care of you."

  "They down there bragging about their little stunt?"

  "They are."

  "You heard about Hansen, right?"

  "She went out the way we all would prefer to go. Fighting for what's right."

  "Is all this right?"

  "It's the Burrell who demanded our surrender, so yes, this is right."

  "What's our plan from here?"

  We return to the transport and work on getting it in the air. They attempted to scuttle the drive system as we took her down. They did some damage. We have a crew working on it."

  "How we set for water?"

  "Enough for a month." The colonel waved over his aide. "Masters, get a team together to pull that travois. And send crews into that structure to build more. We're taking our casualties to the ship. Nobody stays on Helm."

  Keeler and Burwitz dragged the travois up next to Tawn. "Ma'am, give me your hand and we'll get you mounted and get a move on. Mr. Gruberg, we need to get you a ride too?"

  "I'll be fine, thanks."

  Keeler grinned as she helped Tawn. "You hear about our little caper?"

  "I did. Normally I'd be elated about it, but I've seen that flank a couple hundred times more than I ever wanted, so it doesn't hold much appeal to me."

  "To tell the truth, it does look a lot like every other stump rump out there."

  Harris scowled. "Hey now, let's not be hurtful."

  Tawn chuckled. "He can be a bit vain about that sort of thing."

  Keeler nodded. "As can most stumps. Don't worry, sir, we'll let you keep your moment of glory."

  The trek to the transport took an entire day. Tawn was moved into the medical care unit, where her leg was inspected and a proper cast applied. Harris received a salve for his minor burn. A day later the drive system was considered operational. A Biomarine tech managed to power up Farker's remains.

  Harris stood over his mechanical friend as it opened its eyes. "Can you understand me?"

  Farker replied, "I can."

  Harris grinned. "Glad to have you back with us."

  "You are here. As are others. Can I assume you succeeded in taking the ship?"

  Harris shook his head. "No. We lost that one. But we managed to connect with the other Biomarines. We're about to lift off from Helm at any moment. Can you get us back to Midelon?"

  "I'm sorry, sir. Those circuits have been damaged. We'll have to find another way."

  Harris half smiled. "Don't concern yourself with it. We'll manage. Might be this Burrell ship can take us all the way there. Guess there's only one way to find out."

  "Sir, my power system has been severely damaged. I should be shut down until proper repairs can be performed."

  Harris signaled the tech. "Go ahead and shut him down."

  Farker said, "Please, sir, allow me to do it in an orderly manner. Each hard shutdown puts my data store at risk of corruption."

  "Fine. Take yourself offline."

  "Will see you again soon, sir.
"

  The pet's eyes closed.

  The tech checked. "He's off, sir."

  "Be gentle and store him. I want him taken in for repairs immediately upon our arrival."

  Tawn rolled in using a makeshift wheelchair. "How’s he doing?"

  "He survived. Shut back down until he can be repaired. Why aren't you in bed?"

  "Wanted to check on our friend, and a few others who were injured in the fight. Colonel says we lost more than three thousand."

  "I heard."

  Tawn slowly sighed. "Our numbers are now under five. When we get the Retreat back, it's gonna feel like a much bigger place."

  "We need to get to Midelon first. I want to bring back a bot team to resurrect the Bangor. And the Hailstorm if it's salvageable. We need those ships."

  A rumble could be felt as the ship lifted from the ground.

  Harris took in a deep breath. "I despise this planet."

  Tawn chuckled. "You've managed to overcome nearly impossible odds twice now. I'd think this place would be among your favorites."

  "Not a chance." Harris moved to the back of the chair. "Let's get you back to bed where that leg can heal."

  Tawn grabbed a wheel, stopping her roll. "Actually, they took a scan. Bones are mending nicely. See this tiny incision? They put in a couple rods and glued them in place. I can stand on it and take a few steps, so it's not that big a deal. And like I said, I've got other friends to check on."

  Harris pushed his partner to the area assigned to casualties. An unpleasant feeling overtook his psyche as he stared at the stacks of bodies lined up against one wall.

  The colonel came to his side. "Hard to look at, but they're all going home."

  "We in comm range of anywhere?"

  "We're about to enter free space."

  "You taking us to Midelon?"

  "Until we know the status of that Gondol fight, yes."

  A comm came in to the colonel. "Sir, we've entered free space."

  "Try opening a comm to Domicile."

  A response came back almost immediately. "No connection, sir. The negation field must still be active."

  "Jump us to the edge of Midelon." The colonel turned. "A run in will tell us if the Burrell have access to there."

  The hop-drive enabled a run to the planet.

  The colonel said, "Open a comm as soon as we're close enough, Lieutenant."

  "Patching Midelon through now, sir."

  "Hello?"

  Harris stepped in. "Alex? What's the status there?"

  "Quiet. We have our three Banshees out. Two are patrolling our space to give us warning. The third just arrived back from a check on Gondol."

  "Isn't that something Idiot could do?"

  "We decided we didn't want to open wormholes from this space directly to there. We don't need the attention. Our Banshee jumped to the Retreat and then to Gondol. We witnessed the final stage of the battle."

  "And?"

  "The Burrell won. But only have fifty or so ships remaining. Bax fled with fourteen of the Hoya cruisers. She's back at New Earth with her bots. They have a dozen Banshees under construction there." Alex asked, "Is Miss Freely...?"

  "She's here. We're banged up a bit, but alive. I need you to assemble a team of bots to send out here to Helm. I want to bring back the Bangor and the Hailstorm if possible."

  Alex turned. "Trish, make that happen. You coming this way?"

  "We are, but I think we'll be turning to Domicile. We have injured aboard who need care. I'll be bringing in Farker at some point. He's took a hard hit and needs extensive work, but that can wait."

  "We'll be here. Oh, and we have about fifteen hundred bots up and running now. And six thousand cores. If you can get us a supply line open to Domicile, we could use a refresh of our supplies."

  "We’ll send word when we're coming back your way. Colonel, take us to Domicile space. Go as close as you can jump and we'll go in using the hop-drive for the final leg."

  Two hours passed before the transport was landing in the capital city. Lines of emergency vehicles filled the tarmac as the injured were moved off to be given the care they needed and deserved. Harris and Tawn jumped on a shuttle that took them out to the Hosh-Morgan headquarters and a waiting Bannis Morgan.

  Harris wheeled Tawn into Bannis' office. "Excellent. I was glad to hear you made it out. There were casualties?"

  Tawn nodded. "Heavy, but we prevailed."

  "Are those ships I just saw out there operational?" asked Harris.

  "Just waiting on pilots. We have about two thousand fully trained now. Just as many again are more than halfway through."

  "How many of those ships do we have?"

  "Close to four thousand."

  "Rail cannons?"

  "Yes. And we managed to squeeze in your mini laser. The size was being upped to accommodate a pilot anyway. We figured, why not throw in the power source for the laser? Nicely armed little ships. And they are all hop-drive capable."

  Harris grabbed Tawn by the arm. "This might be our chance to take out the Burrell still at Gondol."

  "With green pilots?"

  Harris looked at Bannis. "How many warships we have in the main fleet?"

  "Close to six hundred."

  "Get me the President on the line."

  Bannis complied. An image showed on the display wall.

  "Mr. Morgan…"

  "Sir, I have Gruberg and Freely here with me. He thinks we should raid Gondol and finish off the Burrell there. They have a fleet of about fifty ships left. Might send a strong message that we are independent."

  "No other Burrell ships out there?"

  Harris leaned in. "Not in our space, sir. We take down those remaining ships and we've bought ourselves some time."

  The President rubbed his chin before turning away. "Douglas! Open a comm to the Joint Chiefs."

  "Yes, sir!"

  The comm display soon split. "Admiral, we have an opportunity here to take out the Burrell. See to it this happens immediately."

  Harris said, "They have about fifty cruisers parked at Gondol. Take your entire fleet and the two thousand trained Banshees. It should be enough."

  The admiral replied, "Mr. President, I don't think it wise to leave Domicile undefended, sir. "Miss Rumford and her ships are still out there."

  Harris said, "They can't jump through the negation field, Admiral. We have this opportunity and should take it. Domicile only needs protection from the Burrell. We take them out and we can then go after Rumford if we want. She's at New Earth, attempting to rearm herself."

  The President leaned in. "We'll make this easy, Admiral. This is a direct order. Take the fleet and the trained Banshees to Gondol. Dispose of the Burrell."

  "Yes, sir."

  Harris sat back in his chair. "Mr. President, we'll begin planning for an attack on New Earth. Thank you for pushing this. We need it."

  The comm was closed. Six hours later, the fleet was fully assembled in high orbit above the home planet of the free Humans. The order was given and the hop-drives were enabled. An hour later, the ships emerged from the negation field and a jump was made to Gondol.

  Harris was given a Hosh-Morgan shuttlecraft. Tawn rolled aboard and the duo made their way back to Gondol, expecting to see the ending of a battle. Instead there was a Human fleet, parked and waiting for orders. The Burrell ships were no longer there.

  Harris opened a comm. "Admiral, no sign of the Burrell?"

  "System was abandoned when we arrived."

  "Any bios on the ground?"

  "Scans showed nothing."

  "Jump a scout to New Earth, Helm, Beckland, and maybe Viochan. Those are places the Burrell have been, or Baxter Rumford has been."

  "Sending them now. Will have results momentarily."

  Tawn said, "Please tell me they didn't jump to Midelon."

  Harris sighed. "We won't be finding that out unless we return to Domicile and take that transport. Without Farker, we have no way of contacting them or getting back th
ere."

  "Guess we didn't think that through, did we?"

  The scout ships returned and the admiral's comm followed. "The Burrell fleet is not at any of those places."

  "Admiral, wait here. I'll get an answer for us, but it will take several hours."

  "I'm not comfortable leaving Domicile undefended, Mr. Gruberg."

  Harris nodded. "Of course. Go home. If we're able to find them, we can direct you from there."

  The shuttle turned, jumping back to the edge of negated space outside of the Domicile system. A thirty minute run had them coming within sensor range.

  Tawn pointed at the nav display. "Tell me that's not what it looks like."

  Harris pulled the shuttle to a stop. "They haven't reached orbit. There's still time for the fleet to get here."

  Tawn opened a comm. "Mr. Morgan, the Burrell fleet is about to hit orbit. You still have control of the Banshees in training, right?"

  "They're on our property, yes."

  "How many can you scramble?"

  "Pilots are in school, but here. I think in the neighborhood of sixteen hundred."

  Harris said, "Send them up. We need to delay any full assault."

  Bannis nodded. "It’ll take ten minutes to get them from the classroom into their ships."

  "Just do your best, Mr. Morgan. I'll see what I can do to delay them."

  The shuttle sped toward the invading ships.

  Tawn said, "Can't say I'm in love with this idea."

  "We need to do something to delay. That fleet should be here any moment."

  Harris hailed the Burrell fleet. An admiral answered: "State your intentions."

  "You've defeated the Maxter fleet. Congratulations."

  "You Humans are responsible for these heinous attacks on our fleet. Our transports were attacked on the planet you designate as Helm. One of those transports is on the surface of this planet. Those responsible will be turned over for punishment."

  Harris said, "It was me. I took the transport and flew it here. After I crushed your weak and poor excuse for soldiers. My plasma rounds took countless of their lives."

  Tawn pulled back in confusion. "Uh, what are you doing?"

  "Buying time."

  "Sounds more like you’re buying us a firing squad."