Earth's Last War (The Contingency War Book 4)

by G J Ogden

  “See, you ain’t all that...” said Blake, coolly, before slamming the palm of his hand into her chest, catapulting her across the room and into the wall as if she’d been hit by a cannon blast. Adra fell, face pressed against the deck, next to the lifeless body of Adjutant Vika.

  The entire laboratory then shook with the force of an earthquake. Consoles exploded all around him and fissures began to open up in the walls and deck plating. Blake saw Casey, still waiting for him by the doorway, waving him on, though her voice was lost in the maelstrom of explosions that were erupting around him. He took one last look at Vice Provost Adra, lying motionless on the deck, and then ran for his life, back towards Casey.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Casey blasted out of the docking section with a controlled burst from the main ion engines, sending them rocketing into space like a torpedo. Switching to a reverse angle on the viewport, the Nexus shrank rapidly into the distance, set against the backdrop of a steel-gray planet. Electrical arcs and fiery explosions large enough to engulf entire starships were erupting all over the surface.

  As Casey watched, she was able to make out dozens of interplanetary shuttles soaring out, like bees leaving a hive, carrying the Hedalt engineers to the home world below. She thought of Rikov and how without his sacrifice they would not have had time to execute the core overload. It seemed so cruelly unfair that he would perish, while the others, oblivious to his heroism, would survive to see their military overlords stripped of their key weapon of control. Without simulants, perhaps there would be an uprising. She hoped so, but thoughts of the future would have to wait. There was still the battle for Earth to fight, and they couldn’t do that without their captain.

  A blinding flash of light saturated the viewport, causing it to polarize to reduce the intensity, and then the Nexus was gone. Casey had never seen a star go supernova, but she imaged that it might have looked similar. But instead of a black hole forming where the Nexus once was, there remained only dust and fiery debris. The tear between normal space and the Fabric was gone.

  Casey set the Contingency One to autopilot, sprang out of her chair and ran down the corridor to the workshop, where they’d unceremoniously dumped the wounded body of Taylor Ray and the prototype frame, before blasting off. She burst through the door to find Satomi, datapad in hand, rapidly assessing Taylor’s injured body, and Blake to the side, arms folded, brow wrinkled with concerned lines.

  “How is he?” asked Casey, running to the side of the workbench.

  “His core power systems are shutting down,” said Satomi, placing the datapad down, “His brain will die if we don’t replace his body within the next few minutes.”

  “What if we shoved his head back into the cubby hole in his quarters?” suggested Blake. “You know, the place they kept our heads, before we woke up?”

  “Good idea, but in order to detach the cranial unit, the neural interfaces first need to switch to a subconscious mode,” said Satomi. “Sort of like putting a computer into sleep mode, where it’s turned off, but still active at a low level.”

  “He looks kinda asleep to me?” said Blake, looking at the unconscious form of his captain.

  “He’s disabled, not asleep,” said Satomi, while working to release the fastenings that held Taylor’s cranial unit in place. “We need to quickly switch his head with the prototype frame that Casey brought back, and hope that he stabilizes.”

  “Hope ain’t a good strategy, Satomi,” grumbled Blake, “that body was holed up doin’ nothin’ for centuries; we don’t even know if it still works.”

  “The frame is fully-functional,” said Satomi, confidently, finishing the adjustments to Taylor’s body so that his head was ready to detach. “I know, because my body is functional. The stasis fields built into the chambers are able to maintain the core circuitry and power systems of a simulant almost indefinitely. Organic components fare less well.”

  “Okay, so we stick his head on this body, and he’ll be fine, right?” said Blake. “So, let’s just get on with it already.”

  Satomi knew that Blake’s brusque manner was simply due to worry and anxiety; she was worried too. “Blake, the short and honest answer is, I don’t know what will happen, okay?” Externally, Satomi was calm thanks to her simulant frame, but her mind was racing in a hundred different directions. “So if you want to help, stop asking questions and put the prototype frame on the workbench next to Taylor.”

  Relived to finally have something to do, Blake snapped into action, grabbing the prototype Taylor Ray and sliding it alongside the Captain. Satomi sprang around to the opposite side of the workbench and rapidly repeated the procedure she’d just performed on their Taylor to detach the cranial unit on the prototype.

  “Okay, this is going to take all three of us,” said Satomi as she finished the adjustments to the prototype. “Casey, stand in front of Taylor and place your hands on the sides of his head. Blake, do the same for this one.” They both raced into position, practically colliding with each other in their haste to take up their positions. “Then on the count of three, I need you both to remove the cranial units at the same time.” She then locked eyes with Casey, “Casey, it’s then your job to attach Taylor’s head to the prototype as rapidly as you can. Once it’s inserted, I’ll try to power up the frame.” Casey nodded frantically, clearly terrified by the vital importance of her role, but equally as determined to do her job.

  “What about me?” said Blake.

  “One you have the prototype head, just get the hell out of Casey’s way, okay?” replied Satomi.

  “Roger that,” said Blake, relieved that his role was a lot simpler than Casey’s. But, in truth, he trusted no-one more than Casey to complete the task. Her unique pilot’s instincts and surgically-precise hands made her perfect for the job. But then he had a thought, “Why not just yank the head off this prototype first, so it’s all ready to go?”

  “Because I want the switch to be near instantaneous;” explained Satomi, “I want the prototype body to think the swap was just a glitch. Hopefully, it will then accept the new head and simply adjust for the glitch, without even realizing.” Then she threw her arms out to the side, “Hell, guys, I’m just making this up as I go along. This isn’t science, it’s more like...”

  “Going out on a wing and a prayer?” suggested Casey.

  “Exactly.”

  “Don’t worry, Satomi,” continued Casey, smiling weakly, “We’re used to winging it by now. And so is the Cap. He’ll be fine.”

  Satomi smiled and nodded, “Okay then, is everyone ready?” Casey and Blake grasped the two heads and waited.

  “Go in five...

  ...Four

  ...Three

  ...Two

  ...One!

  Blake yanked the head off the prototype unit and practically leaped backwards, colliding with the workshop wall and leaving a shoulder-shaped dent in it, but before his feet had even touched the deck again, Casey had already placed Taylor’s head onto the prototype body. It was a literal ‘blink and you’d miss it’ switch.

  Satomi had pushed power into the prototype frame at the exact moment Casey had inserted the head, zapping it with electricity like a defibrillator. She then grabbed the data pad, ready to analyze the newly joined combination, but before she even touched the screen, Taylor sat bolt upright.

  “I’ve been shot!” he yelled so loudly that everyone else in the room jumped in surprise. Then he looked down, pressing his hands to his chest and realizing that he hadn’t in fact been shot and his panicked expression switched to one of deep confusion. “I haven’t been shot…” he commented, “that’s weird…” Then he looked at Satomi, and then at Casey and Blake, and then back at his own body. “What happened to Adra and the Nexus? Why are we all back on the ship? And why have you changed my clothes?”

  “Taylor, relax,” said Satomi, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, while also closing the fixings to ensure the Captain’s head didn’t literally fall off, “you’re safe. But
, to answer your questions, Adra and Vika fought, and Vika was killed. I carried you back here, while Blake took care of Adra.” Taylor looked at Blake wide-eyed.

  “What can I say, Cap, I’m just that good,” he said with a broad grin.

  “Casey then grabbed the prototype Taylor Ray and brought it to the ship, before blasting out of the Nexus using a burst from the ion engines,” Satomi paused and looked over at the grinning pilot. “An incredibly risky maneuver that flies in the face of in-station piloting regulations...”

  “What can I say, Cap, I’m just that good,” said Casey, deliberately parroting Blake’s cocky delivery.

  “Then the Nexus exploded,” Satomi continued, “and we brought you here, where we switched your head onto the body of the prototype Taylor Ray.” Satomi paused again, trying to think if she’d missed anything, “I think that pretty much sums it up. Any questions?”

  Taylor laughed, and then looked at his new body again, flexing his fingers and testing every joint and synthetic muscle, “I feel exactly the same,” he commented after a few seconds. “You guys really are something else.”

  He jumped off the workbench, where Casey was waiting for him with a hug, and then he shook the hand of Blake, who looked deeply embarrassed at even this level of physical contact and show of emotion, before he moved around the workbench to Satomi. They stood opposite one other, awkwardly trying to work out what to do, before Blake chimed in, “Just hug or kiss or somethin’… The tension is killing us!”

  Everyone laughed and then Satomi shrugged, “Let’s just try a hug shall we?”

  Taylor shrugged back, “I’m sure this is against Earth Fleet regulations too, but what the hell,” then he moved forward and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t feel the warmth of her comfort in the same way a human could, but there was still something pure about a simple hug that filled every inch of him with joy. But the feeling was more than mere contentedness. It was like placing the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle onto the board, or finishing a work of art, or stepping through one’s own front door after a long day. He felt complete.

  “I do have a couple of questions, actually,” said Taylor, as he finally drew back from Satomi. “Is Vice Provost Adra dead?”

  Casey answered that question. “While I was piloting away from the Nexus, I monitored a bunch of launches, Cap,” she said. “It’s possible that her Destroyer could have been one of them. But the explosion put out a ton of radiation, making the sensors pretty much useless at the moment.”

  “I slammed that maniac steel-skin into the wall harder than a wreckin’ ball, Cap,” said Blake, “Ain’t no way she got up from that.”

  Taylor nodded. He didn’t want to question Blake, but Adra was as tough as anyone he’d ever come across, and he didn’t want to discount the possibility she had survived, and escaped.

  “What was your second question?” asked Satomi, with interest.

  “The second one is a question for each of you, actually,” said Taylor, becoming suddenly more earnest. “It’s the same question, but you each have to answer individually, and honestly.” The others all fidgeted uncomfortably, but then waited for Taylor to continue. “We’ve destroyed the Nexus, which means that every simulant in the galaxy will be going offline or is already defunct,” Taylor resumed. “We’ve given Sonner and Earth Fleet their best chance to win the war, and maybe, who knows, we’ve even helped the Hedalt break some chains too.” Then he looked at each of them in turn: Blake, Casey and finally Satomi. “And we’ve put our crew back together. Our family.”

  “What are you asking, Cap?” said Casey.

  “We don’t owe Earth Fleet a thing more. We’ve done enough, already,” said Taylor. “We could take this ship and go wherever we want, together. We don’t need to risk our necks fighting Earth’s last war. So my question is, what do you all want to do next? Do we jump to Earth and join the fight, or pick a star and find our own path?”

  Blake was quick to answer, “I ain’t runnin’ from a fight, Cap,” he said gruffly, “Sonner helped save me and the rest of us. We ain’t square ‘til we’ve kicked those bastards off Earth.”

  Taylor nodded and then looked at Casey, who smiled and hooked her arm through Blake’s, “The stars aren’t going anywhere, Cap. Let’s finish this first, and then I’ll fly us anywhere you want.”

  Taylor found himself smiling again. Finally, he turned to Satomi. “And what about you? You’ve only been back maybe an hour or so, are you ready to put your life on the line so soon?”

  “I may have only been back in this body for a short time, but I’ve been with you all along, Taylor,” replied Satomi. “This is my journey, just as much as yours. Earth may not be our planet or our home, not really, but it doesn’t matter. We were all there at the start of this and we all need to see it through to the end.”

  “Okay then,” said Taylor taking a pace back so he was standing in front his full crew once again. In many ways, they were the same people he knew from his memories, but they were also different and unique, just as he was. And each of them was a part of the other. He hadn’t realized how much he needed them until that moment, when they were finally all back together.

  “Casey, set a course for Earth,” said Taylor.

  “Aye aye, Captain Taylor Ray...”

  TWENTY-THREE

  The crew of Nimrod Command were as silent as deep space as the bright blue orb shone back at them, magnified on the ship’s viewport. Even Colonel Collins, who was sitting in the command chair with Sarah Sonner by his side, didn’t ruin the spectacle by trying to talk it away with a grandiose speech, or spoil the moment by opening his mouth at all.

  To Sonner, Earth looked exactly the same as she remembered it. Despite more than three centuries having elapsed since the fall of their world, from her perspective it hadn’t been all that long since she had last looked out on the beautiful blue planet. Her last view of Earth had been when blasting out of the High Haven orbital space port as the Hedalt armada pummeled it with hundreds of plasma shards. She remembered looking back at the planet then and wondering if she’d ever see it again, before the ship she was on made the first of many chaotic jumps to secret rendezvous points, eventually arriving at the Contingency base more than a year later. But the thrill at seeing Earth again soon vanished as scan reports came in and the size of the Hedalt armada became clear.

  “Technical Specialist Sonner, do you have an exact readout on the strength of the enemy forces?” Sonner asked her brother, as more of the seventy-eight remaining Nimrod-class cruisers blinked into space around them. They had left the transports, which were carrying the non-combat personnel, at the last blind jump point, where they would be safe. Though Sonner couldn’t shake dark thoughts of what their eventual fate would be if the assault on Earth failed and they were left stranded in space, alone and defenseless.

  “Reading twenty-five squadrons, Commander,” James replied from the mission ops console, “That’s one hundred twenty-five enemy ships in total. Seventy-five register as heavy cruisers or frigate-class warships.”

  Shit... Sonner thought. She was the first to admit she was no military strategist, but from experience she knew it would take twice their numbers just to tackle the heavy cruisers alone. She steeled herself, ready to confront Collins, but he spoke first, before she got the chance.

  “Order the fleet to form up,” said Collins, “Execute attack pattern Nimrod Alpha Four, as per the plan.”

  There were nervous replies of ‘yes Colonel’ from all stations and then the fleet began to organize itself, squadron by squadron, in front of Nimrod Command. Sonner could already see gaps in the formation, because many units were already below full strength after the assault on the base.

  “Colonel, we have to adjust our strategy,” said Sonner, trying to keep her voice low and level so that she couldn’t be overheard by the other crew. “A squadron-by-squadron direct attack isn’t going to work. They know we’re coming and each of their squadrons outguns ours.”

 
; “We have to stick to the plan, Commander,” said Collins, shifting uncomfortably, “there’s no time for anything else.”

  “Colonel, the original plan relied on a surprise attack against a smaller force and against ships broadly comparable to our own,” Sonner argued, struggling to keep emotion out of her voice. “We have none of those advantages. A direct assault won’t work.”

  “Enough, Commander!” snapped Collins, and though he had not intended to shout, his voice carried clearly to the other stations. Anxious eyes glanced back towards them, before the crew again snapped their heads forward as Collins glared back. The Colonel waited until he felt that the others were no longer listening and glowered up at Sonner. The volume of his voice was lower, but his tone was no less severe. “Once their losses mount up, they will fracture and run,” Collins seethed. “It is just one planet to them. They will not sacrifice their lives for just one world, knowing that we will fight to the last.”

  “The Nimrod Fleet has reported in, Colonel,” interrupted James, “We’re in position.”

  “Full attack, Mr. Sonner,” said Collins, before looking back at the young officer’s sister, “You will see soon enough, Commander,” he said with an arrogance so thick Sonner could almost taste it in the air. “We will break their spirit.”

  Sonner shook her head. There was no point arguing now; the order had been given, and all she could do was hope that she was wrong. But she also knew that hope was a worthless strategy. Collins had never faced the Hedalt of Warfare Command, while Sonner had. She knew they would never break, never retreat and never stop, until every last one of their ships had been destroyed. “You’re a fool, Colonel,” she said. “A fool who will lead humanity to its end.”

  “You are relieved from duty, Commander Sonner,” replied Collins, keeping control of his temper. “Return to your quarters.”