Neither of them could see Jantine from where they were, but the renewed sounds of pulser fire gave them a fairly accurate idea of her position. Jarl knew more than that, though. He knew the Omegas had been acting erratically since they’d abandoned Doria and were very insistent on getting to this part of the ship.
And since there was only one thing worth having in the compartment, Jarl also knew what Jantine wanted the Gammas to do.
"We take the shuttle."
Doria
DORIA SAT IN THE DARKNESS, WATCHING HER LIFE counting down on the handheld. The numbers were comforting, and promised an end to her pain.
Not long now.
Malik was resting comfortably with her right arm curled around him. She felt a tinge of regret that he wouldn’t be with her when the time came, but in the end his pain was too great, and she’d had to massage his mind into unconsciousness. Even while asleep, she could still feel his strength, and that’s all that mattered
The handheld was the only light in the compartment that had been their home for the last few weeks. Malik had helped her configure a switch for the destruct charges before succumbing to his injuries, and as long as she kept her left thumb on the activation panel, they stayed alive.
Doria smiled, amused by how fiercely she clung to each one of the 59 seconds of life she had left. Then a cough shook her, bringing up blood to fill her mouth and nose.
55 . . . 54 . . . 53 . . .
Wait. What was that?
At the edge of her vision, the faint green glow she’d grown used to was getting both brighter and whiter. Sharp lines now outlined the hole through which the others had left, and as it grew in intensity Doria could hear voices.
"What the hell happened here? It’s like they were torn apart."
"I don’t know, but Captain Kołodziejski wants visual confirmation of all Valiant personnel. Get their helmets off, and scan the faces. Martinez, you’re with me."
Two spots of light bobbed through the hole, and Doria saw answering spots form on the raft of crates in the center of the container. A human form started in and then fell to the deck with a small cry
"What the—Lieutenant, there’s grav in here! And the floor’s different."
Oops. But to be fair, we weren’t expecting visitors, were we Malik?
A second form came through, a bit more cautiously than the man picking himself up off the deck. Doria saw the light it was holding swing around the room. She tried to focus on their faces, but after so long in the dark even their small lights were blinding.
When one of the lights swung over her and Malik, her right hand came up reflexively to shield her eyes. Malik groaned softly as he slid down into her lap, and the combined movements started her coughing again, this time much louder and wetter.
"I’ve got survivors over here! Anderson, get in here with the scanner, and mind the first step. The floor and grav field in here are both angled away from the Valiant."
The speaker moved forward, followed by his two companions. Doria tried to reach out to their minds, but her own pain was almost overwhelming. It was all she could do to keep sitting up straight and maintain her grip on the handheld.
She tried to speak but couldn’t manage more than a pained wheeze. When the man holding the lamp kneeled in front of her, she flashed him a bloody smile.
"I don’t believe it. Guys, they’re just a couple of—"
Doria’s smile widened as she lifted her thumb. The countdown stopped at 15 seconds, but she didn’t mind.
It’s going to be all right, Malik. It’s over n—
Jantine
JANTINE SENT ANOTHER BURST OF PULSER FIRE TOWARD the enemies surging through the bay doors, wondering just how many more she’d need to kill before the day was over. She saw Crassus drop behind a scaffold to slot energizers into his rifles, just as Artemus intensified his fire from the other side of the room. The Delta had claimed several enemy rifles from the fallen, and the noise as he emptied them into the oncoming foes was incredible. Jantine also noticed dark blood falling from Artemus’s shoulders, fat droplets shaking loose with the recoil of the captured weapons.
How long will it be before we’re reduced to throwing rocks? They just keep coming . . .
If not for the Omegas’ bizarre actions they might be aboard the shuttle by now. She had no idea if the Gammas were successful in eliminating any resistance inside the small vessel, only that her force was pinned down and separated.
The warning beep from her own rifle’s energizer sounded, and she dropped behind the stacked crates she was using as cover. Whether the containers would offer her any protection at all from the enemy’s ridiculously overpowered slugthrowers was somewhat in question, but the skill level of their opponents was finally matching up to her expectations.
With the sounds of battle raging around her, Jantine ejected the spent module. Slotting in a fresh energizer took only a few seconds, but waiting for it to generate a charge took a bit longer. She used the time to do a sight check on her people. JonB was crouched beside her with his eyes closed, mouthing some silent mantra she couldn’t make out. Carlton was across the bay next to Crassus, and the Omegas . . .
The deck pitched wildly to the side, and the crates toppled onto her. The unexpected impact forced the air from her lungs, and all she could do for several seconds was stare at her rifle on the deck, half a meter from her outstretched hand.
"Jantine. Jantine!"
JonB’s voice seemed far away. Darkness was closing around her as she fought for air, and she felt rumbling of some kind through the deck. The rumbling became a pounding, and then the weight on her back was gone.
A pair of tree trunk legs was standing in front of her, and Jantine rolled over to take in a painful, gasping breath. One of the Omegas was holding the crate high over her head, then spun around rapidly before releasing it. It sailed away like a rocket, and she felt rather than heard its impact. She raised her head, and saw a jumble of arms and legs struggling feebly beneath the crate as it came to rest in the corridor outside.
Dazed, she couldn’t make out what JonB was saying. Something about charges and detonations, but all she really wanted to know was where her weapon was, and how many of the enemy were left.
Another crate went flying, then another. Jantine couldn’t help but stare at the casual way the Omegas were thinning the enemy ranks.
Even now, they’re beautiful. All that strength finally unleashed, and it’s still just the smallest part of themselves.
The Omegas were moving now, and with each step they took they transformed from peaceful architects into orange-skinned engines of death. Powerful arms were swinging, swatting enemies aside like flies. One trooper had enough time and presence of mind to fire a weapon, and Jantine’s amazement grew as the slugs bounced harmlessly off an Omega’s chest.
JonB was shouting now and trying to pull her up from the floor. Artemus shouldered him aside, using one lower hand to yank her to her feet, and placing her weapon in her hands with the other.
Jantine accepted it mechanically, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of the angry Omegas. Meter-and-a-half arms came together with a trooper in the middle, and she heard the hardsuit cracking from across the bay. The Omega spun again, now using the dead trooper as a club to batter the remaining enemies to the floor.
The fight was over, but the deck shook as both of the Omegas ran toward the shuttle. But for the blood streaking their coveralls, they might be children chasing a ball. She felt JonB shaking her shoulders, and finally heard what he was saying.
"Commander, we have to go! Malik and Doria . . . the container blew! We can’t stay here, can’t you feel the air leaving? There’s a massive breach somewhere, and everyone still alive on this ship will be coming this way!"
Jantine turned to look at JonB, wondering how he could fail to comprehend the threat posed by Omegas willing to kill. The look of sheer terror in his eyes was sobering, and although everything he was saying was true, it paled in comparison to wha
t might happen without a support Gamma to help the Omegas deal with the emotional ramifications of what they’d just done.
Jantine didn’t say anything; she just tightened her grip on her rifle and started walking toward the shuttle. She saw Carlton heading up the ramp, and Crassus was already on station outside.
By the time Jantine, Artemus, and JonB reached the shuttle, a helmet-less Jarl was walking unsteadily down the cargo ramp. His hands were empty, and there were spots of blood on his pale face.
Jantine stopped and waved the others inside. From the base of the ramp, she could see the Omegas and Carlton excitedly shucking their packs and moving to examine the bulky piece of equipment she’d seen earlier. It looked like a sleeper unit, but it was three times the normal size.
Jarl’s last step sent him crashing into one of the piston assemblies used to retract the ramp, and Jantine saw his eyes were wide and fixed. His encounter suit was covered in puckered scars, each one giving her another reason to get her team off the Valiant as soon as possible.
"Boss, shu . . . shuttle secured."
Jantine didn’t know what to say. Jarl’s normal rough whisper was full of something she’d never heard before. Pain, raw and unmasked. All she could do was take his report and try and live with the consequences of what she’d asked him to do.
Putting on her best command face, Jantine nodded up the ramp.
"Katra?"
"She’ll live. I won’t."
Jantine felt the darkness closing in again. This was Jarl, untouchable, indestructible Jarl. He’d done the impossible once again, but this time would be the last. Images of Malik, Doria, and Harren spun around Jarl’s face, and the thought of another of her people—her friends, dying on this mission was almost too much to bear.
I can’t do this. It’s too big . . .
"Commander. Boss. You need to leave. Complete the mission."
Her mouth worked silently several times, almost apologizing, almost screaming her building rage. But Jarl’s blue eyes were the cool center of a still pond, and if he could still stand after what had happened, so could she.
Jantine pulled a spare energizer and some grenades from her harness and handed them to Jarl. He waved off the energizer, instead pulling his hand pulser from its chest sheath and holding it out to her. She nodded, took the weapon, and tried to think of something, anything she could say to acknowledge his sacrifice. Before she could, Jarl took the grenades, straightened up as best he could and walked down the ramp.
"Jarl, wait." Jantine finally found her voice, even though it sounded strange in her ears. Removing her faceplate, she felt cold air moving past her cheeks.
Dammit JonB, why do you always have to be right?
The Gamma paused, and he stumbled slightly as he turned to face her. He smiled, then grunted in surprise when she pulled him into a tight embrace. She felt his hands come around her, then shift to tap her twice at the base of the neck and spine. When he whispered in her ear, it was the old Jarl speaking one last time.
"Rookie mistake, boss. Two touches, total paralysis. You’ll have to do better."
Jantine buried her face in his neck, determined not to let her emotions overcome her. She needed Doria, needed Malik here to tell her what to do next. But Jarl had said it as well as anyone could, which made it that much harder to let go.
I have to do better.
Jantine closed her eyes and maintained the embrace for another three heartbeats. It was just long enough to start feeling uncomfortable, and she knew she was ready to go. Thinking her thanks to him, she turned without looking and walked up the ramp.
She was halfway up when she heard JonB complaining.
"How am I supposed to know what to do? Look at this place. Is there anything you didn’t shoot at?"
Jantine looked around her new command. Close up, she saw that there was a small female form inside the sleeper unit. Carlton and the Omegas were fussing over a bank of monitors set unto the unit, but what drew Jantine’s attention were the piled bodies of half a dozen enemy troopers.
As she walked up a twisting internal passage in search of JonB and the others, her feet brushed aside countless micro-slugs. The shuttle’s interior was scored with thousands of shining scratches, but no craters like she’d seen on the bulkheads outside. At first there were occasional splashes of blood, but halfway up the ramp the walls were covered in dark red from floor to ceiling. Despite JonB’s complaints, Jarl and Katra were too disciplined to fire at targets they couldn’t hit, and at least one of them had scored a headshot.
How much of that blood is ours, and how much more will be spilled before we’re through?
Following the Beta’s voice, she came quickly to a control room. The rest of her team was crowded inside, and the Deltas were aiming every hand full of weapons at two enemies in restraints on the floor.
Katra looked even worse off than Jarl had. But despite the dried blood and cuts on her face she was still standing with her rifle clutched tightly in shaking hands, intent on two enemy troopers secured on the floor in front of her.
From the markings on their suits, Jantine recognized the captives from the brief vid image she’d seen earlier: the man who’d had guns pointed at him, and the woman who had been guarding his back.
JonB stopped talking as Jantine entered, and Crassus took the opportunity to rumble a report.
"They surrendered. The male’s the one they’re looking for. Says we need them to get off the ship."
Jantine examined the lined face of the man who’d gotten so many people killed. Captain Martin, if Crassus was correct, had a bruised face and wore a dark beard with many patches of white. He was definitely past his prime, but she recognized the haunted look in his eyes as one she imagined in her own.
Without taking her eyes from Martin, she called over her shoulder to JonB: "Prep the shuttle for launch. Artemus, go tell Carlton and the Omegas to dispose of the bodies and get secured."
"Okay, but these controls . . . it’s going to be a bumpy ride, and even if I can get it flying I don’t know for how long or how far."
"No excuses. Get it done."
JonB swallowed whatever he was going to say and got to work. His hands flew over the controls, searching for whatever switches were necessary to prep the ship for flight.
"Commander Jantine," said Crassus, "how long will Scout Jarl need to complete his sweep and get aboard."
Jantine let the question hang in the air, as she turned to regard the second prisoner. Whoever she was, the woman wasn’t afraid, and Jantine had to give her credit for that.
"Jarl’s not coming."
Katra’s cry of rage was exactly the one Jantine wanted to voice, a raw knife-edged scream from the depths of her soul that made everyone in the compartment stop and stare. Before anyone could stop her, Katra stepped forward and drove the butt of her rifle into Martin’s head. His neck snapped to the side, and he slumped in his restraints, but Jantine didn’t think he was dead.
Yet.
Artemus pulled Katra away, using three hands to restrain the Gamma and the fourth to take her rifle away. Katra struggled against the Delta’s strength, but the rage that drove her drained away as the enormity of what had happened settled in.
If the prisoner was bothered by the attack on her captain, she didn’t let it show. The woman maintained eye contact with Jantine, narrowing her eyes slightly as if trying to divine some weakness in her captor. Jantine thought she was about to speak when JonB broke the silence.
"Commander, the shuttle’s powered. The drive systems seem operational, but I can’t initiate a launch sequence. There’s just too much damage."
The prisoner smiled, and she spoke in a clear voice of authority.
"You’ll need my command key for that. Or Captain Martin’s, but I doubt he’ll give it to you now."
I suppose it doesn’t matter either way. We die here, or out in space, it’s all the same. But I have to try, I owe them that.
"I am JTN-B34256-O. You are my prisoner,
and any attempt to escape or harm one of my people will result in the deaths of you and your captain. Do you understand this?"
The prisoner laughed, seemingly unimpressed.
"We already tried to escape, and our own people started shooting at us. Considering how that turned out, I’ve got nothing to lose. Now, I’m assuming you’re not going to untie me, so here’s what you have to do."
Jantine studied the woman’s face as she talked, searching for any signs of falsehood. But her face had none of the cues she normally looked for, and like the darker skinned young woman she’d examined earlier, it was just too alien for her to get an effective reading.
Doria, Malik, I need you now more than ever. How will I ever know who to trust, now that you’re gone?
Mira
MIRA WATCHED AS ONE OF THE GRAY-SKINNED monsters pulled her command key from the hard pouch on her left shoulder. She was still wondering how in the worlds the Colonials had found out about the Alpha, or even knew where to look for it. Martin had managed to keep the sleeping child’s existence a secret from everyone aboard, apart from his immediate circle, yet these children showed up right on cue to reclaim it when everything seemed lost.
They’re all so young. Even compared to all the middies aboard the Valiant, their leader can’t be any more than sixteen years old!
The handsome, dark-haired boy they called Janbi accepted the key from the four-armed brute, then searched the board for where it was supposed to fit. Mira almost spoke up again, but the icy daggers stabbing her way from JTN-B34256-O’s eyes kept her silent.
Those eyes were the worst part. The Colonial’s face was impossibly beautiful—all of them were—but her blue eyes were like nothing Mira had ever seen before. They betrayed no emotion whatsoever, whether she was threatening Mira and the captain or discussing ammunition levels with one of the brutes.
I wonder what kind of gennie she is? She’s clearly in command, but what does that mean? There’s just so much we don’t know about them.
Homefront Page 11