The False Admiral

by Sean Danker

  I detached from the floor, switched off my helmet, and ran for the nearest survey crawler. It was big and sturdy—much sturdier than a skiff. I reached the hatch and searched for a way to open it. The little ones would’ve been all over me during this pause if Salmagard hadn’t thrown them all to the far end of the bay with the doors. She’d bought me the time I needed, and unquestionably saved my life.

  I got the door open and climbed in, sealing it behind me.

  Something heavy thudded onto the top of the vehicle. I could hear them crawling on the metal.

  I dropped into the pilot’s seat and powered up the heavy crawler, then opened the viewfinder to see the deck. I released the brake and shoved the throttle forward, accelerating after the nearest xeno and heartlessly running it down. This wasn’t very sporting, but my back was against the wall. My karma was already shot.

  Besides, it wasn’t like these things were endangered. They were everywhere.

  After I flattened the third one, they got the message and started to flee. I went after them, taking down three more before ramming the crawler into the wall to smash the hind legs of one a full four meters across that was trying to crawl to safety. I backed up and it fell to the deck, twitching madly. It didn’t seem right to just leave it there crippled, so I did the compassionate thing and ran over it a couple of times, then turned the crawler around to survey the bay.

  The remaining xenos were all out of reach. I rolled the crawler to the middle of the bay and idled there. My vision was a little blurry, but on the whole I felt good. Piloting this crawler was a lot easier than running around out there.

  “Private?”

  “Yes, Admiral?”

  “What’s your status?”

  “We’ve got the second unit tucked into the satellite. I’m on my way back down for a third. Ensign Nils is completely immobile, but the lieutenant’s following his instructions. He doesn’t look good,” she added.

  I sighed. “I’m going to cover you. I’ve got a survey crawler, and it’s working pretty well out here, but you’re on your own in the corridors. Keep your scanner on.”

  “It is, Admiral.”

  I leaned back in my seat. My joints ached. How many minutes were ticking by, and how many did we have left? I looked at my gloved hands. I couldn’t see anything, but they were swarming with the nanomachines that were keeping me alive by keeping the mist out.

  Mist that wasn’t mist, just larval xenos. It was hard to imagine, hard to wrap my head around the notion that the ubiquitous mist was made up of tiny organisms that might ultimately grow into these hulking creatures.

  Technology every Evagardian took for granted had saved our lives without us realizing it. Deilani’s faithfulness to surface decon protocol also deserved credit. Her overly developed sense of duty had been a thorn in my side earlier, but now I owed my life to it.

  I looked at the big doors, and thought about the planet beyond them. I felt bad for the colonists, but it just wasn’t meant to be. This planet didn’t want to be colonized.

  It was already occupied, after all.

  A stealthy local had come down to the deck, and I saw on my monitor that it was approaching my crawler from behind. No matter how you looked at it, this was a hunting tactic. It hadn’t evolved out of nowhere. What did these things normally hunt?

  This was supposed to be a dead planet? No. It just looked dead, and with typical human arrogance, we’d taken that at face value. Maybe there were whole worlds underneath that black and rocky shell.

  I put the crawler in reverse and ran him over with a series of horrible crunching noises. I almost felt bad about it. A couple others that had been edging downward hastily scuttled back up the walls.

  I had a nasty thought, and popped the hatch long enough to sneak a look at the ceiling. Sure enough, half a dozen of them were clustered directly overhead. I moved the crawler away. I couldn’t stop them from doing that, but I could make them work for it.

  The larger ones could tear this crawler apart if they wanted to. It was sturdy, but not armored. I hoped that wouldn’t occur to them.

  Salmagard appeared, looking very small at this distance, jogging across the deck. The xenos didn’t all rush for her like I’d feared—they seemed wary. With good reason; in typical Evagardian fashion, Salmagard hadn’t shown their kind any more mercy than I had.

  She ran up the ramp and disappeared into another flyer.

  A xeno dropped onto the flyer and crawled in after her. I’d barely opened my mouth to warn her when it came scuttling out, trailing pink smoke. “Ah—uh, Private? You all right?”

  “Yes, Admiral.” She’d used a flare launcher to scare it off. Clever. I put the crawler into gear and ran down the flaming xeno. “Admiral?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the situation overhead?”

  I took her meaning; they would drop on her when she came out. I looked up at the xenos poised over the flyer. Was there a way to scatter them? Did I want to scatter them? “All right, Private—you need to come out as fast as you can. If they drop, then at least it won’t be on top of you, and I’ll have a chance to try to help. How many flares have you got?”

  “Two more.”

  “Then we’re in business. On three.” I released the crawler’s manual brake and put my hands on the controls. “Three.”

  The float pallet with the EMS unit came hurtling out of the flyer; she must have backed up all the way to the cockpit to get such a running start. It flew down the ramp and skimmed smoothly across the deck. Not quite in the right direction, but that wasn’t important. Three xenos dropped down, their reflexes fast, but not fast enough, and I was right on top of them. I rolled over two, but the third went off after Salmagard more quickly than I was ready for.

  “Behind you,” I warned, throttling up.

  She twisted and shot it with a flare, but another clattered to the deck in front of the grav cart. Salmagard couldn’t reload. All she could do was angle the cart away and put on some extra speed. I had caught up now, and I smashed into this newcomer, even as more landed.

  The wide, open bay truly was the perfect place for irresponsible driving. Finally, something I was good at.

  I wheeled the crawler around recklessly, and several xenos backed off, but some were still heading determinedly for Salmagard. I charged at them, and they scattered. That bought the private another few moments. By staying close to her, I made the creatures warier.

  We were nearly to the hatch. With some threatening acceleration on my part, they held back long enough for her to get through.

  I let out a long breath as I saw the doors close behind her, and sat back, watching the things mill around on the deck. I wondered how they were getting into the bay, but there wasn’t anything I could do about that.

  “Private, you all right?”

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Well, that was something. I rubbed at my eyes, then put my hands back on the controls. I couldn’t let the xenos get too comfortable, not while we still had work to do in here.

  I went after the ones still on the ground, and they were learning to get out of the way before I ran them down. I chased them back up the walls.

  From the crushed and mangled carcasses strewn about, I knew I’d substantially reduced their numbers, but there were still so many.

  I got up from the controls and went into the passenger section of the survey crawler. I found a small handheld launcher, and plenty of flares. I tucked them into my pouch. It wasn’t the ideal weapon, but it was something. Salmagard was good at improvising with these things, but for my part, I hoped not to use it. The survey crawler itself was still the best piece on the board.

  I went back up and checked the screens. I had xenos on the ceiling and walls. This wasn’t going to work.

  Last time’s plan wouldn’t fly. There were too many, and they were adapting to my tac
tics too quickly. Salmagard, for all her competence, wouldn’t last ten seconds in this bay outside a vehicle. But we still needed one more unit. How would we get it out of here?

  “Deilani,” I said into the com. “Give the private a stim whether she wants one or not.”

  I’d just have to think of something.

  19

  “PRIVATE, we’re going to have to do this a little differently.”

  “Agreed, Admiral. The third unit is secure.”

  “How’s Nils?”

  “Still awake.”

  I grimaced. “Where are you?”

  “Just outside the door, sir.”

  “Here’s the plan: I’m going to give you a lift to the last flyer.”

  “I’ll just jump on your vehicle then, sir?”

  “Right. I’ll let you off at the flyer, and try to cover you while you get the ramp down. Once you’re in there, raise it. Can you handle it?”

  “I like a challenge, Admiral.”

  No hesitation at all.

  “Then I’m coming for you now. Raise the pressure door on my go. How’s Deilani holding up?”

  “I think she’s come a bit unhinged, sir.”

  Who could blame her?

  “All right, get in here.” I slowed the crawler, but didn’t stop. It was slow enough already. Rolling over so many xenos had taken a toll on the wheels and underside of the vehicle; by now they were heavily damaged, and probably weakening by the minute. Nothing seemed to be immune to the corrosive effect these things had on plastic and metal.

  The door shot up, and the white figure of Salmagard darted into the open. Xenos started to drop.

  “I’m on!”

  I accelerated toward the flyers, narrowly missing a row of skiffs.

  I couldn’t see Salmagard at all; I had to take her at her word that she was aboard. I braked hard at the flyer, and saw her drop away on my screen, hitting the deck and rolling into a sprint.

  I put the crawler in reverse and backed over the smaller xenos out in front, then charged straight ahead at the ones dropping on and around the flyer. I smashed the one nearest to Salmagard, popped the hatch, and leaned out with my flare launcher to fire at one that wanted to rush her down.

  The ramp was halfway lowered; Salmagard jumped, caught the lip, and hauled herself inside. A moment later it started to rise again. None of them managed to slip in, though one nearly lost a leg. That just left me. I ducked back inside the crawler and sealed the hatch yet again.

  “All right in there?”

  “Quite snug, sir. How do I get out?”

  “You don’t. You’re going to taxi back to the door and unload there. I know you’re not a pilot,” I said before she could protest. “But you don’t need to be one to point that thing and make it go. Here’s what you need to do. More or less.” I explained it to her while watching the xenos swarm over the flyer. It didn’t seem to occur to them to try to break in.

  “And that means it’s powered up?” Salmagard was more confident in her ability to fight than to pilot.

  “Yes. You have to release the binders next.”

  “There’s something wrong; I’ve got all these warning messages,” she fretted.

  “That’s because there’s xenos crawling on the wings. Don’t mind them. Just bring it around.”

  I watched the flyer begin to inch forward, then turn. It crunched into the flyer beside it, smashing several xenos. “Oh dear,” Salmagard said.

  “Ignore it. You need it to take you about a hundred meters; it doesn’t matter what kind of shape it’s in when you get there. I won’t tell anybody.”

  “Yes, Admiral.” The flyer was moving along now, and the xenos suddenly seemed very keen to get off. I didn’t blame them; the grace that characterized Salmagard’s body did not extend to the flyer. She rolled right over the row of skiffs that I’d avoided earlier. Machinery was crushed, and metal and polymer were sent flying. Oil and coolant spilled across the deck. Well, it was all Commonwealth property anyway.

  It occurred to me that I’d better follow, but the crawler didn’t respond when I tried to accelerate. I looked at the plentiful emergency lights and blinking warnings on my readouts. This technology was meant for exploring harsh new worlds; it was supposed to be tough. I didn’t have any sympathy for it. I pushed the throttle forward, and there were only sounds of mechanical agony. Metal screeched.

  The corrosion had done its work. I wasn’t surprised, but the timing wasn’t ideal. I was stranded in the middle of the bay, and the locals were getting curious.

  Salmagard had reached the far end, and was maneuvering to shorten the trip from the ramp to the door.

  The xenos were teeming on the walls.

  “Private?”

  “Yes, Admiral?”

  “I’m a little stuck out here. Can you give me a lift?”

  “Yes, sir. On my way.”

  The flyer awkwardly changed direction, beginning to roll toward me. I didn’t realize what she had in mind until she was only meters away. I grabbed for the straps, knew there wasn’t time, and just braced myself against the console. It was only a bump, but it felt as if I’d just been hit with heavy weapons fire. My head swam and pounded. My arms burned, but I held on anyway.

  Salmagard pushed me with the nose of the flyer, the ruined underside of my crawler grinding across the deck, leaving deep gouges in the metal.

  “Thank you, Private,” I said, jaw set as the crawler shook madly around me.

  “Not at all, Admiral.”

  She pushed my crawler up against the bulkhead, then maneuvered the flyer around a second time, and came to a halt. Already the xenos were closing in. Now that we’d been stationary for a few moments, I saw a couple of them drop to the roof of the flyer.

  “What now, Admiral?”

  “I’m working on it.” She was counting on me to get her out of this. Our strict timetable was at the front of my mind. Fire seemed to be our go-to weapon, and I didn’t have a problem with that. Fire was easy to come by. We needed something flammable. What was flammable? What was flammable and could be found in quantity here?

  “End of the line,” I said, hoping I was thinking straight. “We fight our way out. Find the biggest oxygen tank on that craft, probably the one used to refill the pressure suits. Detach it. Lower the ramp, bleed it, and throw it out. I’ll light it with a flare. That might push them back, at least for a second. You take off, and I’ll draw fire. Got it?”

  “Yes, Admiral.” Salmagard didn’t sound entirely convinced, but she didn’t have a better plan offhand, and we didn’t have time to think of one. I broke open the flare launcher and loaded it, then got it ready and put my hand on the hatch release. Several moments went by, and I pictured Salmagard in the flyer, wrestling with a big O2 tank.

  “Ready, Admiral?” She sounded breathless.

  “Whenever you are, Private.”

  I waited. The ramp started to lower, and the xenos became noticeably agitated. A tank nearly the size of an EMS unit went banging down to the deck, venting visibly.

  I threw open the hatch and straightened, taking aim. My hands shook, but it was an easy shot.

  The tank went up with a modest fireball. The blast rattled my bones, and the heat and shock wave washed over me. I saw stars.

  Shaking my head, I saw that it had worked better than I’d hoped. Salmagard was already down the ramp and on the move, nearly halfway to the doors. I clambered down, blinking away the streaks and lights, and fumbling another flare into the launcher. The xenos were recovering, but not fast enough to catch me, and certainly not fast enough to stop Salmagard.

  I made it through the hatch and sealed it. A black leg as big around as the flyer’s landing strut punched through, tearing the metal as if it was sheet plastic—but it pulled back.

  Salmagard was already pushing the last EMS uni
t into the lift. I got in and sagged against the wall. She looked at me and blanched. Did I look that bad? I was sweating even more than the situation warranted, and my EV suit wasn’t sure what to do about it. It was giving me med pings, telling me to seek attention immediately. I muted them, feeling cold.

  Salmagard, on the other hand, looked great. She was red-faced and sweaty, but her expression was triumphant.

  “This is number four, right?” I gasped.

  “Yes, Admiral.”

  Then it didn’t matter. We were almost done.

  * * *

  The interior of the satellite had been transformed. Now there were three EMS units standing in it, along with a mess of cords and equipment, most of which I realized had been removed from the walls of the satellite itself. Several panels were missing, and a lot of things looked broken. All we needed was for the thing to keep the units powered up, and to send our SOS. The satellite’s normal functions didn’t matter, and I was confident Nils wouldn’t order Deilani to break anything too important.

  Nils himself looked terrible. His skin was gray, and his eyes were sunken and unfocused. Deilani looked ragged too. Evagardians weren’t supposed to be seen in this state. We weren’t even supposed to be in this state. But as much as the Empire would like people to forget, imperials were still just people.

  “Do we have power?” I asked, stepping aside so Salmagard could move the final unit into position. There was barely any space left. This was going to be a tight fit.

  “Yes.”

  “And the beacon?”

  “Functional,” Deilani said. She sounded breathless.

  “What about the launch?”

  “We’ve got it figured out,” Deilani said, but I could tell there was bad news coming. “But we’ve got problems.”

  “What kind?”

  “The rocket needs fuel.”

  “Rocket?”

  She shrugged. “Ganraens. They’re still burning chemicals to propel the unit up. It’s a highly concentrated fuel, so we only need a few liters of it. Not too different from 14-14.”

  “I take it there’s some aboard?”