War Without Honor (Halloran's War Series Book 1)

by J. R. Geoghan

  “I’m going anyway.” Kendra made her way up the aisle to the spiral stairway down to the loading deck. At the bottom, she was confronted by a security officer holding a long gun.

  “All passengers are to remain on board,” he said, his gun held against his chest. Kendra noticed that his visor was down.

  “I need to know what is going on, soldier.”

  “No you don’t.”

  Kendra looked over his shoulder at the still-open loading gantry. The corridor to the station was empty, but she could make out another security guard at the far end, standing watch at the hatch to the station itself.

  Feeling annoyed and frustrated, Kendra sulked back to her seat.

  “See anything?” Travers asked.

  “Nothing except the heavily-armed guards at our loading tube.”

  Travers looked out the portal again. Suddenly he let go a loud exclamation.

  “What?!” Kendra leaned over to look.

  Travers’ finger pointed out a further section of station that was now expanding into space, the victim of some large internal explosion.

  The station shook hard, causing the group to stagger against the nearest bulkhead.

  “What was that?” Deacon yelled as they regained their footing.

  Djembe was running again, trying to keep up with Halloran. “Explosive decompression—somewhere nearby!”

  They ran to the nearest lift and Halloran pounded on the button, but it was non-responsive.

  Djembe came up. “Probably bio-coded to station personnel only.”

  Halloran bent over, panting. “We’ve got to go down two levels; I’m sure of that much. Are there stairs or something?”

  Djembe looked at him in surprise. “No. That would defeat security.”

  Halloran looked at Axxa. “Can you pry these doors apart?”

  The Praxxan looked the doors over, then wedged his thick fingers between them and flexed outward with muscles straining beneath his uniform sleeves. Moments later, the door panels separated with a metallic shriek.

  Halloran leaned in and looked up and down. A lift car was nowhere to be seen. If he leaned out, he could see the doors two levels below. The shaft was dark but light found its way in somehow. “We climb down.”

  Djembe was shaking his head. “I must get to my ship.”

  “You go, then. All of you. Keep Axxa safe. I’ve got to get back to my crew.”

  “We should stay together,” offered Axxa.

  Deacon shook his head. “If we split up we’ll be harder to find.”

  Axxa looked down at him. “Spoken like a hunted human on your planet.”

  Deacon bristled. “It’s what your people did to us—”

  Halloran cut the argument off. “I’m going down. Axxa, you’re welcome to come.”

  The Prax looked into the well, then swiftly climbed in and down out of sight.

  Halloran looked after him. “Okay, then.” He struggled around the door and grabbed a nearby conduit mounted in the shaft wall.

  Halfway down, he looked up to see two figures climbing down after him. Below, the Praxxan was hidden from view by the darkness between floors.

  When Halloran reached what he thought was the correct level, he gripped the conduit and looked around. To his surprise, Axxa stood in the opened doorway, waving at him.

  “Should have known,” Halloran muttered to himself.

  The passage they landed in looked like all the others, but something told Halloran to go left. Without waiting for the rest, he barged off. Not two corners away he almost mowed down the security man guarding the doorway. The man’s gun came up and Halloran stared down the barrel for several eternally-long moments before the weapon was yanked away…by Axxa. The security man reacted swiftly, reaching for a sidearm, but Halloran blocked his grip and pushed him back against the wall. “It’s me—the crew Captain!” he yelled in the man’s ear.

  The sight of the huge red alien and the band of humans must have thrown the guy’s equilibrium off, because he dropped the sidearm and ran off down the other way as fast as he could.

  “Remind me not to hire that guy as a guard next time.” Halloran keyed the door—which was thankfully not bio-coded somehow—and it slid open.

  Chief Reyes jumped out into the corridor. Halloran stepped back out of his way, and the shorter man stumbled and went to his knees briefly before coming to his feet again. Seeing his Captain, his face blossomed red. “Sorry, sir.”

  Halloran gripped his hand. “Good to see you, Abran. Everyone safe?”

  Reyes caught sight of the others with Halloran and looked them over as he replied. “Yes, sir. Medical team came through a while back—can you believe they healed Perez’s broken leg in minutes? Some sort of x-ray gizmo…”

  “Good to hear, Chief. By the way, we’re under attack.”

  Antonov was there, looking up and down the corridor. “We felt the explosion.”

  “Attackers unknown, but we suspect Axxa here is their target.” Halloran thumbed at the alien.

  Antonov met Halloran’s eyes. “He’s part of our crew now, yes?”

  “Yes. I’m glad you understand me.”

  “If you live among wolves you have to act like a wolf.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Antonov smiled tightly at Halloran. “Nikita Khrushchev.”

  Several crew appeared in the doorway, Carruthers leading the charge. She caught sight of Halloran. “Where to, sir?”

  Antonov said, “Did you communicate with this Fleet?”

  Halloran nodded. “Got through, gave them my ID. Ship name. We were cut off by the alarms, though. Our handlers ran off, which leads me to believe it’s bad, whatever it is.”

  Carruthers said, “We need a ship, sir.”

  Everyone looked at Djembe.

  “Not again,” he raised his hands in defense.

  “I don’t think we could find our way back there even if we wanted to. Elevators are down and we’ve too many people to risk climbing up and down lift shafts.”

  Antonov nodded. “It seems we need to explore this level first.”

  Halloran tapped Reyes. “Get the crew moving, Chief. Double time.”

  Another human guard dropped as Calxen slashed its neck with his blade, nearly severing the head. He leaped away from the fountain of red and shoved the falling body away from him.

  “This way!” Called Kalyx from up the passage.

  They found a side corridor that led to a large control area. Several humans jumped from their work stations as the Xu soldiers rushed in, but all were too slow to avoid the plasma bolts that cut through them and blew their bodies against equipment and bulkheads, splattering their red blood everywhere. Calxen reveled in the smell of it, turning his head to follow a passage to his right. Several more humans appeared from side spaces along this passage, but Calxen shot each cleanly as they appeared, leaving the last for a knife throw that lodged in the back of its head. As he passed he retrieved the weapon with a tug, wiping the blood on the body’s clothing.

  It appeared that they had captured the control center of the station. Calxen returned down the passage, checking the rooms more closely as he did so. Kalyx went up the other side, doing the same sweep through rooms. Two other Xu secured the main instrument room and began examining the computer screens for relevant information.

  Their approach had gone perfectly, blending in with some local shuttle traffic and finding an unused dock to mate with. Once they’d been inside, a sensor had tipped off the station forces to their existence but they’d swiftly tracked the humans to their armory and destroyed it with explosives. One by one, group by group they had eliminated all effective resistance and made their way to this central location. The humans were slow and dim-witted, even for the soldiers they apparently were by their uniforms.

  Now, Calxen needed to locate Axxa and capture—or kill—him. Calxen was under no misconceptions; the human Fleet was probably already sending reinforcements at high speed to Charon. Time was of the essence. Th
e traitor had to still be here; the small human transport hadn’t been docked very long at all.

  He stood behind one of his Xu. “Anything relevant?”

  The soldier was well-versed in human tech. “I see that this station was in contact with Mars at the time the auto-alarm locked the system down.” He pointed to a display on a monitor, its attendant now dead at their feet.

  Calxen kicked the human body for amusement. “Can you recover the transmission?”

  “Probably.” The Xu shouldered his plasma weapon and began to type on the keyboard.

  “Lord, look!”

  Calxen turned to see Kalyx entering the room, pushing a human before him with his weapon. The human looked terrified.

  When they reached Calxen, the human opened his mouth. “I can help! I’m the—.”

  Without reacting, Calxen swiftly removed his knife and slashed the human’s gut, cutting deep but not so much as to spill his internal organs.

  The human cried out and fell to his knees, using his hands to try to hold the blood in.

  “Filth. Get it up,” he ordered Kalyx. The other lifted the human under his armpits, bringing it back to eye level with Calxen.

  Calxen placed the knifetip under its chin, lifting gently with the edge. Blood began running down each side of the blade. “Now, tell me where the traitor Axxa has been taken. Quickly!”

  “He…he…was with the human…pilot…and that tall one…” The human’s eyes began to roll up in his head. Shock, the humans called it, as Calxen recalled.

  There was a way to avert shock. He slashed upward with the blade, cleaving the human’s chin in two and splitting his jaw.

  The human uttered a cry and tried to fall again, but this time Kalyx held it firmly.

  “Tell me, and you may live! Where is Axxa now?”

  The human, blood coming out of his face, pointed to a nearby workstation. “Cameras…see him…track by bioscanning—.”

  Calxen plunged the knife into an eye socket, killing the human instantly. He should have let it die slowly, but he perceived that it was probably the station commander from the insignia on its uniform. It was honorable this way.

  Kalyx dropped the body as Calxen summoned his tech expert over. “Let us find Axxa now.”

  Chapter 42

  The crowd of camo green uniforms pressed through the maze of corridors, meeting no significant opposition. At its head, Halloran and Lieutenant Hummel jogged as stealthily as possible, peeking into rooms and darkened side passageways, trying to keep the group on a heading toward the most populated area.

  Lieutenant Hummel, the ex-supply officer aboard USS Bonhomme Richard, couldn’t help but mention the poor nutritional state of the crew. “They’re operating on body fat and near-starvation by this point, sir.”

  Halloran nodded. “Understood. The next stop we make, I’m putting you in charge of procuring edible meals for them.” He glanced Hummel’s way. “Even if you have to requisition it from people who aren’t giving it away.”

  Hummel said, “Would be nice if we had at least one weapon.”

  “Can’t be helped, Mark.” Axxa had given the pistol in his possession to Antonov. That was the only weapon to defend over thirty men and women.

  “Maybe we’ll bump into the armory?”

  Halloran gently eased open a doorway to an empty conference room of some sort. “Somehow I don’t think we’ll get that lucky.”

  Reyes called from somewhere in the middle of the pack of sailors behind them. “Any update on our destination, sir?” Halloran knew he was trying to give a voice to the concerns filling the minds of the group at large.

  At the next corner, Halloran checked around it to verify a clear passageway, then turned back to the group. “Our goal remains to find a compartment where either there are weapons or station personnel willing to defend us. Speed and stealth are our best assets at the moment.”

  “Sir!” Hummel had advanced down the hall and pressed back a sliding door made of frosted glasslike material.

  “What’ve you got?”

  “Take a look.”

  Halloran followed him in. The space was larger and more familiar—in fact, very familiar. It had the look of an airport gate area. Rows of low, cushioned seats connected together by a chrome-like metal. Hard carpeted floors. A wide, clear window with starscape. Okay, that’s not quite like what I remember. Halloran came back out and called the others around the corner.

  At the same moment, screams began from the back of the group, far down the passage. Halloran craned his neck over the heads to see, trying to catch a glimpse.

  A yellow-white bolt of energy passed over him, its power imparting a windlike effect on his hair, which blew about as if a train had just gone by.

  More yelling up the hall. Halloran grabbed the nearest crew and pointed at Hummel, who was standing in the opening to the gate area. “Go! Keep your head down and take cover where you can!” As they crouched and scattered around him toward Hummel, who was now waving them on, Halloran made his way upstream, ducking reflexively as more bolts of what must be plasma cut through the ceiling and walls around him. Several crew dropped nearby, their heads destroyed by a shot. Halloran recognized Chief Drew among them as he dodged the expanding gore and continued to push the remainder along with shouts of “Go! Go!”

  Djembe was there, face-to-face with Halloran. “Some Prax! Came around the corner back there and opened fire. Axxa is holding them off with the pistol.”

  “I thought Antonov had the gun.”

  “Axxa took it back!” Djembe had to yell over a dull boom that echoed down the passage.

  Halloran was angry. Very angry. After all they’d been through…these Prax just wouldn’t give up. He grasped Djembe’s shoulders and yelled into his face. “Can you get your ship to us somehow?”

  The pilot frowned. “I can remote pilot it but I need another flight console.”

  “Go forward and see what you can find up there!”

  Djembe nodded, seeing the gravity of the situation. In a moment he was gone and Halloran turned back toward the source of the fighting.

  The last of the crew passed by and Halloran saw several more dead on the decking at his feet. Perez, whose leg had just been healed. Yeoman Stiles. Yeoman Taylor with his arm sticking up unnaturally, the hand seeming to form a fist. Lifeless eyes staring back at Halloran.

  Deacon darted out of an opening and grabbed Halloran, yanking on him just as another bolt passed down the center of the corridor. The energy singed Halloran’s ear as he staggered to one side.

  Axxa leapt out and fired up the passageway, his weapon making a whining noise as he did so. The red alien ducked back, coming alongside Halloran.

  “It is a Xu strike team. Strong, fearless warriors.”

  “Prax?” Halloran yelled in Axxa’s ear.

  “Yes. If they’re from Earth, their commander would be the Prime’s own son.”

  At that moment a loud voice, amplified somehow, echoed off the bulkheads. “Axxa, all we want is you. Come forward and surrender and we will spare this station and the humans on it!”

  Halloran risked a glance up and down the passage, seeing the Navy crew who were down and motionless. Blood speckled the walls and decking where they had been struck. He couldn’t see the enemy. He put his face close to Axxa. “Is this true?”

  The Prax shook his head. “They hunt humans for sport. This is pleasure for them.” The distaste in his voice dripped.

  “They are stalling.”

  Axxa nodded. “Almost certainly. They must be moving to flank us—this is only a diversion.”

  “Would they be wearing translators?”

  “No, I would think not. This is not their way.”

  “Then I doubt they speak English.” Halloran called down the hall. “Hummel! You there?”

  After a moment, “Yes sir! Standing by…what’s your status?”

  “Pinned down halfway up the hall. I see four KIA here. What do you see at your end?”

 
Another moment. Then, “Sir, we’ve got nothing here, but Wilson has spotted an adjoining space just like this—with an armed guard who won’t leave some tube.”

  “Tube?”

  The boomed voice came down the hall again. “Humans, your coded language will not save you! Give us the traitor Axxa and you shall be released.”

  Hummel continued. “I think I saw a ship out there, sir!”

  Halloran grinned. Maybe this was the break they were looking for. “Get the crew to that tube without getting shot, Hummel. I’ll be right there!”

  “Aye, aye, sir!”

  Axxa leaned over, checking his gun. “They may be approaching from another passage. We need to regroup now.”

  Halloran pointed to the gun. “Is there ammo?”

  “Ammo?”

  “Um, additional projectiles?”

  “Yes, it has a large capacity. But it is underpowered compared to the Xu’s plasma weapons.”

  “Would be nice to grab one of those.”

  Deacon piped up. “Grab?”

  Halloran stared at him. “I want one of my own.”

  Axxa leaned out and fired a burst up the hall. “The Xu are highly proficient in bladed weapons as well. You would be unlikely to secure a plasma weapon in close quarters from them without being terminated yourself.”

  Halloran glanced up the passage. “One more shot and you cover us as we run for it, Axxa. Clear?”

  “You go, I cover you. Then I follow—I am much faster than you.”

  Deacon looked scared. “Don’t get killed, Axxa.”

  The Prax pushed them. “Go now.”

  As the red alien stepped out and began firing, Halloran grabbed Deacon by the elbow and dragged him from cover. They ran down the hall, leaping over bodies and tripping once. Thankfully, that was the moment a bolt shot down the hall, splitting the air where they had been moments before. Finally, the two rounded the corner.

  “Clear, Axxa!” He hoped the Prax knew what that expression meant.

  “Do we stay here?” Deacon was even more upset now. Halloran could see he wanted to stay with the Prax. He looked over at the glass door…no Navy in sight. “You go, I’ll wait for him.” He grabbed the young Earther by the shoulders. “Really, I’ll take care of him for you.”