Gott Mit Uns (Terran Strike Marines Book 5)

by Richard Fox

  Hoffman hesitated to bring his rifle up and fire on his former Marine.

  Adams had no such issue. She aimed and fired immediately, but not at him. The bolt of unfocused electricity ripped past him, almost translucent. He hadn't seen a weapon like that in the Terran or Ibarran militaries.

  King froze like he had been hit with the mother of all tasers, then toppled sideways. “Can’t…control…armor.”

  Hoffman aimed his gauss rifle at her face, still trying to figure out what happened.

  "What's the matter, LT, ghost walk over your grave?” she asked.

  King cursed via his comms until Hoffman lowered the volume almost to mute. He needed to concentrate on Adams.

  “The Lady will want you both alive. She’s merciful,” Adams said.

  "I didn't expect to see you again after Eridu," Hoffman said, watching her over his weapon sights. “What happened to you? What did do you do to King?"

  She moved laterally, trying to gain a better position, and he countered, weapon ready.

  “King is fine. I could have killed him,” she said tersely, moving for a better position.

  “What happened to you?” Hoffman repeated, keeping his attention on Adams instead of King. He knew her by the way she moved and the rhythm of her speech if nothing else. She had been an excellent member of his team.

  “Got shoved into a locker by some Dottie. Don't any of them remember how we saved them from the phage?" She lowered her weapon but kept both hands on it.

  Hoffman wasn’t sure what the improvised weapon was but thought it needed to recharge. He might have a window of opportunity.

  "Doesn't matter. All of that's in the past. Let me help you,” he said.

  Without warning, she lunged forward, pushing down on Hoffman’s gun barrel as she swung a savage right hook at his head. Hoffman sidestepped and yanked his weapon free. The last thing he wanted was to shoot her, but she seemed to understand that and was using his hesitation against him.

  Her second attack was more committed. She launched a step-through kick, immediately followed with a series of punches. Her footwork was better than he remembered and she was fast.

  He blocked one strike with his weapon then fended her off with his left hand. Shuffling his feet and twisting his body, he retreated to avoid taking serious damage from her gauntlets and boots. “Don't make me shoot you, Adams!”

  Keeping his gauss carbine out of her reach, he tried to punch her with his free hand. She caught his attack with both her hands, torqueing down on his wrist and taking him most of the way to his knees, then she drove her knee into his face. He stumbled backwards, struggling to regain his footing. She jumped into the air, cocked back one hand, and punched his visor.

  He couldn’t believe she was coming at him like this wearing just a void suit.

  Both hands on his gauss carbine, he yanked the weapon up, smashing her attacks out of the way. Hurling his weight forward, he drove her back several steps.

  She grabbed the barrel of his gun and pointed it away from her. Stepping into him at an angle, she gained leverage on the weapon and bent it from his hands, using all the strength her legionnaire armor granted her.

  He resisted but recognized the technique she had used. His elbows bent against the joint—even his armor couldn't save him. Slamming his helmet against hers, he managed to drive her back, but his weapon went sliding across the deck.

  "Why are you doing this?" Hoffman asked, moving laterally and stalling for time.

  "I serve the Lady," Adam snarled savagely, rolling to her feet and diving for the dropped weapon she had used on King.

  Hoffman fired a shot between her and the device, but Adams ignored the warning, seizing the ugly thing and scrambling to her feet. He caught a glimpse of King, still paralyzed in his armor. Realization drove him to immediate action.

  Adams aimed the device.

  Hoffman grabbed the emergency release strap and dropped his armor just as the paralyzing bolt of energy hit it. There wasn’t any pain, but his armor locked up while he was half out of it.

  He fell sideways, legs still trapped, and clawed the deck with his hands to pull himself free. It was like being trapped under a disabled vehicle or tangled in alien vines.

  Adams put down the strange weapon and rushed forward with slip-cuffs. “Don’t resist me, Lieutenant,” she said, emotion filling her voice.

  Still encumbered by his nonfunctional leg armor, Hoffman stretched, grabbed the improvised device, and slammed it against Adams. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he used it on her void suit.

  The device wasn’t charged enough to be used again, but when it broke in half, residual energy rippled across the surface of Adams’ gear.

  She lurched sideways with incredible agility—confirming his suspicion she was wearing a pseudo-muscle layer under the void gear—then rushed him, clearly intent on tying him up.

  Hoffman heaved his legs free and rolled sideways as Adams jumped on him, going for a rear naked choke. Hoffman twisted, shoulder-throwing her to the deck. She bounced to her feet and scrambled clear of his next attack.

  Fighting in the pseudo-muscle layer common to both armor systems had pros and cons. On the upside, the wearers were stronger and faster. On the downside, every punch or kick felt like a gauss round to the face.

  Hoffman blocked a series of punches then jumped back just enough to avoid a roundhouse kick he remembered she preferred.

  “You remember that?” she said, almost laughing, and Hoffman recognized the woman she had been before New Bastion.

  “How could I forget?” He aimed a straight punch at the face mask of her void gear, catching her chin as she juked backward to minimize the impact.

  She retaliated.

  He adjusted.

  She dove at his trembling legs, taking him to the ground. Breaking free of his armor had been more taxing than he’d realized.

  On the ground, he used his size and strength against her. She relied on agility and flexibility. He managed to roll toward her, as King had taught him during combative practice, then stacked her legs toward her face.

  She sent him over her head, her strength and flexibility helping her complete the move. The moment he hit the deck, she spun around and scrambled at him, looking for a jujitsu submission.

  Hoffman shoved himself to his feet and tried to knee her in the face. She stood and circled him, panting for air.

  “What the hell are we doing here, Adams?” Hoffman asked.

  Doubt rippled across her expression, quickly replaced by her firm resolve to do her duty. Her breath fogged the inside of her visor then quickly cleared between exhalations.

  “You were made to lead doughboys,” she said. “I was made for something else. It doesn’t matter what I want or wish for or hope will happen.”

  Hoffman couldn’t respond. The mention of doughboys sent him into a powerful mental feedback loop. He wondered what he was supposed to do now that they were gone. His training said one thing, his biology said something else.

  “What happened to Opal?” she asked, then feinted with a left jab.

  Hoffman slapped the feint aside. “Doesn’t matter.”

  They were near the edge of the flight deck and he saw an opportunity to end this without killing her.

  “What are you looking at?” She glanced over her shoulder at the void visible a few meters behind her, then back at him.

  “I can get you help. Marc Ibarra must have a way to help you back to the Terran Union,” Hoffman said.

  “Never!” Rage filled her eyes, transforming her into someone Hoffman didn’t know. “You know that will never work! Nothing can be as it was.”

  Hoffman hesitated.

  “For the Lady!” she shouted, rushing forward.

  Hoffman launched a front kick into her gut, driving her backward and into the void.

  Hoffman stood there watching for what seemed like a lifetime.

  “Lieutenant, a little help here,” King groaned.

  Hoffman kne
lt by his top enlisted Marines and worked through the puzzle of reversing the armor lock-down sequence Adams had used against him.

  “What happened to Adams?” King said when his helmet finally popped open.

  Hoffman didn’t answer immediately.

  “Lieutenant?”

  “She’s wearing a void suit. She’s got hours…we’ll tell the Ibarrans she’s Dutchman,” Hoffman said.

  “They’ll believe us?” King said.

  Hoffman looked at Adams as she spun away into the black.

  “If they think we’d lie about a life that could be saved…then there’s no hope for the Nation and the Union to be anything but enemies. Pray to Saint Kallen that they’re as human as we are.”

  “Yes, sir,” King said, struggling to his feet.

  Hoffman gave him a few moments to recover. “Let’s get to the bridge and get the word out.”

  ****

  The crew watched in silence as the wormhole opened. Valdar remained standing, his void gear ready to be activated at a moment’s notice. He lowered the alert level once the cruiser had been dealt with, aware that there would be future problems, but that his crew could not remain on the highest alert indefinitely.

  A formation of small ships came first, immediately expanding into one half of a defensive sphere. Two battleships came next, making way for the Warsaw. The Ibarran ship was massive, one of the largest ships in either human nation fleet. The barrels of its point defense turrets were blackened from heavy use. Grooves were cut into the area around the flight deck where pilots had missed emergency landings after being damaged in a void fight.

  A rear element of the fleet followed, setting up the second half of the defensive sphere in a standard void-combat formation.

  "Shall I sound battle stations?” his XO asked.

  "Give the order," Valdar said, "but forgo the alert klaxon. I think we all know the drill."

  "We’re receiving a hail from the Warsaw," the comms officer said.

  "Put it on the main holo," Valdar said.

  A dark-haired young woman in Ibarran admiral’s gear, void helmet held in one hand, appeared in the holo tank. "Admiral Valdar, my compliments to your crew. I thought you were otherwise occupied. Do you need our assistance? You seem to have lost your way."

  "Admiral Makarov, I appreciate your concern and courtesy. As for my crew, they know exactly what we're doing," Valdar said. “The Breitenfeld is required back on Earth.”

  "I'm afraid that won't be possible." She gripped her helmet with both hands, holding it slightly in front of her chest, ready to slide it down over her head. "The Lady has issued new plans for the Breitenfeld that would be much more humane if it were evacuated first."

  "I don't follow," Valdar said, tightening his grip on his own helmet.

  "I've been sent to oversee the destruction of the Breitenfeld. Let's cut to the chase. Surrender and submit to my boarding parties. We will safely evacuate your crew to avoid further loss of life," Makarov said, then she slipped on her helmet and twisted the lever on the neck that tightened it. With a flick of her fingers, she flipped her visor down, hiding her face.

  Valdar made her wait for his response. He knew she was harder and tougher than her youthful appearance suggested, specially made to be like her "mother," who had been a heroic part of winning the Ember War.

  "Admiral Makarov, if you wish to destroy the Breitenfeld, you'll do it while I'm on the bridge." He faced his XO. "Full speed to the gate."

  Egan responded with a crisp salute. "Right away, sir."

  "Sir, the Warsaw is pulling ahead of its fleet to block the gate. We’re on a collision course," his conn officer said.

  Valdar nodded as though he’d expected it.

  "Sir, at these speeds, there will be impact within minutes," Valdar's XO said.

  "Understood, XO," Valdar said, his voice steady.

  His crew remained at their stations. He considered hailing Makarov again but didn't want to look at her in the holo tank if this went bad.

  "Five minutes until impact," his XO warned. "

  "XO, take us through the gate. We are going home."

  ****

  Makarov stared into the holo tank from the bridge of the Warsaw, her ship. Her fleet. Her responsibility.

  The Breitenfeld increased speed heading straight for her.

  “Gunnery has a firing solution,” her XO said from one side of the tank, his words sounding through her helmet and hidden from Valdar. “Lady Ibarra ordered us to destroy the ship. We engage now and—”

  She raised one hand slightly.

  “Valdar…Lady Ibarra doesn’t want you dead.”

  “I knew your mother,” Valdar crossed his arms. “Had tea with her aboard the Midway before she was lost in deep space. Capable. Honorable…and a finer officer than I was back in those days. She died too soon. Earth needed more like her. And you—”

  “I am not her,” Makarov lifted her hand and pointed at her gunnery officer, readying the signal to fire.

  “I lost children in the war…I have younger ones back home. My only wish is that they grow to be better than I’ll ever be. I hope you, Makarov, can surpass your mother’s legacy.”

  Makarov hesitated.

  “I’ve been with the Breitenfeld a long time,” Valdar said. “Taken her to places I still can’t believe. She’s carried humanity’s last hope to win the Ember War…been a ship of the line on every fight but the Battle of the Void and somehow survived every scrap. This is the ship of miracles, Makarov. Gott mit uns. He is with this ship. It must be His will if the Ibarra Nation destroys her. I don’t have the crew or the ordnance to fight through you. So why don’t you look me in the eye and tell me what it’s going to be.”

  Makarov lowered her hand slowly.

  “Helm,” she said, “best speed out of the Breitenfeld’s way.”

  There was a pause, then the helmsman called out the ship’s new heading and she felt the deck vibrate as the engines roared to life.

  Valdar nodded.

  “I spoke with Captain Zahar…he was honored to serve with you in the battle against the Kesaht, even if you did trick him. I’m sorry we never had the chance to meet in person,” she said. “I have my mother’s samovar. I would have enjoyed tea with you…learned more about her.”

  “Someday,” Valdar raised an eyebrow.

  “Someday. God be with you, Admiral,” Makarov cut the feed and let out a slow breath.

  Chapter 25

  Hoffman stood at the forward edge of the Breitenfeld’s flight deck. Earth hung in the distance, dawn breaking over Australia and Japan.

  He rubbed the back of a hand across his brow, feeling more tired than he had in years. His breath fogged, surprising him.

  “Good to be home,” Ibarra said. “Even after the detour.”

  “Not everyone made it,” Hoffman said. “You remember…you remember Diamond? My first Doughboy that went dark? You gave me the kill code for the rest of my doughies.”

  “I don’t forget things like that,” Ibarra scratched a thumb against his chin. “Though I wish I could. The doughboys were needed. Served their purpose.”

  “Opal was never a thing, Ibarra. He was a Strike Marine,” Hoffman took the Doughboy’s dog tags from a pocket and rubbed them between his thumb and forefinger. “We are less without him.”

  “We are…we are. At least the war with the Kesaht is over. You accomplished your mission without any unnecessary bloodshed. Things may thaw with the Ibarra Nation…that’s going to be awkward for me.”

  “And what are we going to do with you?” Admiral Valdar asked as he joined the two to gaze a Earth.

  “Tech advisor?” Ibarra shrugged. “High Poobah to the President? Honored elder? Wait, I know. Give me a stone seat like Lincoln used to have. I’ll be an interactive oracle in Phoenix.”

  “President Garret already wants to know what the hell that Ark—the giant alien ship the Ibarra Nation has—is and how we can fight it,” Valdar said.

  Ibarra cro
ssed his arms and tapped a foot.

  “Valdar you remember the last time we stood here? On this deck looking over a planet?”

  “We saw your…demon destroy a world.”

  “Yes. Malal devoured the Toth. All part of a bargain. Malal was a tool, a very powerful one, Admiral. Stacey and I used him to win the Ember War…then we banished that demon forever. The Ark is another tool, Valdar. One without ambition or desires we can play against. And Stacey Ibarra has complete control over it…the ultimate weapon.”

  “Then how do we—”

  “We don’t,” Ibarra cut Valdar off. “You don’t fight the Ark. You have to beat Stacy Ibarra.”

  “And we just poked that bear,” Hoffman said. “When I saw her back there,” he motioned to the blood and amniosis stains on the deck, “I thought she wasn’t human anymore. Not at first. But there’s something there. Something alive.”

  “She’s not evil,” Ibarra said. “Never was. Just driven. Driven to save humanity. Family trait. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “You’re going to Ceres,” Valdar said to the chrome man. “President Garret has a shuttle on the way. You’re to stay in the deepest, darkest, cave the moon has until the Solar System has regained some sense of order. Everyone’s rattled with the battle that just ended.”

  “You mean the war that just ended,” Ibarra said. “This part is always difficult. Have an enemy? You have a purpose. It’s all over…then what?”

  “Indeed,” Hoffman said. “What do we do now?”

  “Debrief on Hawaii,” Valdar put a hand on the Strike Marine’s shoulder. “Then shore leave. I’ll make sure my Hammer’s get plenty of time off. This ship—and I—owe you.”

  “We appreciate it,” Hoffman half smiled and looked down at Opal’s dog tags. “What do we do now?” he asked himself.

  Valdar and Ibarra stepped away, talking to each other.

  Hoffman stayed, his gaze lingering on his home world for a time.

  ****

  Duke laughed at the expression on Gor’al’s face as the Dotari scrolled through message after message. Sipping a cup of coffee, he savored the moment right before he put in a dip, trying to forget it was the last one he had until they reached Earth. Maybe his Dottie friend had a secret stash and would share. It would only be fair.