“Sehera, I’m not having the same conversation.” Alexander turned from her and looked out the window of their quarters at the hyperspace vortex. The brilliant purples and pinks from the Cerenkov radiation were always calming to him. He let out a long sigh. Sehera was right. It was moot to argue with her. “I just hate the idea of us both going right back into a mess of trouble when at least one of us could have stayed back in safety and returned with the remainder of the Fleet. This attack, well, it is crazy even by my standards.”
“If it were truly crazy, Alexander, you wouldn’t be doing it.” Sehera carefully stepped in behind her husband and placed an armored gauntlet on his shoulder. “While what you do may seem crazy to others or to history or to most sane people, they don’t have the benefit of knowing just how precise, concise, and calculated each of your crazy actions is. You and my mother are so much alike in that regard. No, this is just what we have to do or you would have thought of something else. We are doing what we must and there is no way I would be anywhere else than by your side as always.”
“As always,” he said, thin-lipped, not trying to give away how much his heart was aching in fear of losing either of the women in his life. He knew he couldn’t hide his emotions from her, so he just looked at her with nothing more to say.
“You’ll need me anyway. The medical staff is so overwhelmed, as half of them had to go with the critical wounded in the returning ships. I hope the hyperspace jaunt isn’t too far before the teleportations start working.”
“Buckley and Snow are guessing a month at least in hyperspace.” Alexander said dismissively. “That’s a long month. We have that to look forward to after all this.”
“We will make it through this.” Sehera pulled at his shoulder, turning him to her. “Look at me, Alexander.”
“Yes.” He turned and looked at what he could see of his wife’s face through the open visor. Her helmet retracted and stowed over her shoulder taking him off guard slightly. “You should keep your helmet on just in case. The General’s orders.”
“I will, General,” she said. “But not just yet.”
“I see, insubordination.” Alexander smiled at his wife.
“I’m not in the military, so I don’t actually answer to this General of yours,” she said.
“Is that right,” Alexander smirked and popped his helmet seal, and the armored brain bucket retracted and stowed away over his right shoulder. “Come here, you.”
As carefully as he could, Alexander wrapped his armored arms around his armored wife and cautiously and a bit awkwardly leaned in and kissed her lips as passionately as the situation would allow. While the motion was cumbersome and clumsy, the sentiment wasn’t. It was easier for the two of them to touch foreheads, and so they held that way for a long moment without saying a word. It was a long moment of just being with each other that both of them needed and had yet to have since Dee had been shot down. It was a long moment that allowed them to feed on each other’s strength—a strength that had taken them through some very trying events. They would come through this together.
“She’ll be okay when we get there,” Alexander whispered.
“Of course she will,” his wife whispered in return. “It is the only way I can see it and still function.”
“Me too, baby.”
Uh, sir, I hate to interrupt, but DeathRay is requesting an audience with you, Abigail said in his mind.
Tell him to come to my quarters, Alexander thought.
Uh, sir, he is outside your door now.
Oh, I see. Alexander opened his eyes and raised his forehead and looked at his wife’s face, taking in every single freckle on her pale skin, her deep brown eyes, the corners of her eyelids that were only beginning to wrinkle as it had been ten or more years since her last rejuv, and the few dark hairs that had become unkempt and hung loosely from her forehead. He took in all of the detail and reminded himself of just how beautiful she looked at that moment and how exactly like that she had looked a century ago as she rescued him from the torture camps on Mars. She’d been through that with him and she had to go through this with him. Alexander sighed.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Boland is at my door. No doubt wanting to discuss the flight surgeon having grounded him for thirty-six hours,” Alexander replied. “Got to get back to work.”
“I should get back as well. We are moving the triage to the forward hangars and I should get back and help.” Sehera reached up and retightened the ponytail of her long, jet-black Martian hair, and then tucked it back in as she deployed her helmet. “I love you, Alexander.”
“I love you, Sehera. Stay out of trouble, please.” He turned toward his chamber door and watched as his wife clanked through it.
“Jack.” Sehera nodded to the pilot as she walked by him on her way out.
“Ma’am.” Boland stepped aside and nodded to her as if tipping his helmet.
“Come in, Jack,” Alexander said. “What can I do for you?”
“Sir,” Jack saluted him. Alexander returned the salute and relaxed his posture a bit.
“At ease, Jack. It’s just us in here. Say whatever it is and let’s get on with it.” Alexander wasn’t in the mood for formality. He was in the mood to get this crazy-assed mission on with and to get his people, his daughter, to safety, and while he’d like to just go home whether they found some secret superweapon or tactic or jack shit, he knew he couldn’t do that without making a statement to the enemy. They had spent too much time getting their asses handed to them and he was getting tired of that. The Chiata had to think of them as pushovers. Well that time had come and gone. It was time to show the Chiata what they were up against.
“Well, sir, as you probably know, because I managed to let myself get shot up, the surgeon has grounded me,” Jack stated. “I truly apologize for that, sir.”
“Let me stop you right there.” Alexander held up a hand. “While I may disagree with the regs, the doctor, or even if I don’t care, Jack, I’m not going to adversely impact our morale at this point by overriding, or attempting to override, a flight surgeon’s decision.”
“Uh, no, sir, I wouldn’t think of it.” Jack frowned, but with one corner of his mouth upturned into half a smile with a raised eyebrow. “Sir, as far as I can tell, there’s not much flying to do on this mission anyway. Not without risk of putting more pilots stranded in this godforsaken star system, there isn’t.”
“Then what can I do for you, Jack?” Alexander sized the CAG up and could tell he was up to something.
“Well, sir, the flight surgeon’s orders are very specific, sir.” Jack hemmed and hawed to the point that Alexander was almost getting impatient, but he had nearly two hours of just waiting to do anyway. “And I quote, sir, ‘Due to the extensive injuries sustained by U.S. Navy Aviator Captain Jack “DeathRay” Boland,’ that’s me, sir, ‘he is currently suspended from all flight duties for thirty-six hours mandatory for medical recovery. Upon which time he will be subject to a flight physical, whereas he may be, at the attending flight surgeon’s discretion, returned to flight status.’ Unquote, sir. That is what it says in the log, sir.”
“Jack, again, what would you have me do?” Alexander could tell that Boland had an angle but he wasn’t exactly sure how acute it was. “Spit it out, Jack.”
“Well, sir, my records say nothing about ground duty.” Jack looked Alexander in the eye with his deadly serious let’s-go-kill-those-motherfuckers look and Alexander knew exactly where he was going with it.
Abby? Double check. Is he right?
Yes, sir, whether the surgeon missed it or not, there are no stipulations on ground service for Captain Jack Boland.
He’s a clever sonofabitch, ain’t he?
Yes, sir.
“I see, Jack. The records certainly do not say anything about ground duty.” Alexander paused.
“Yes, sir.” Jack stood at attention. “Captain Jack Boland volunteering to lead a team to find the Chiata megaship’s bridge
and take it, General.”
“Jack, before I send you off on such a mission, volunteer or not, I need to know two things,” Alexander said. He squared his shoulders to the man and looked him in the eye. “Number one, are you one hundred and fifty percent certain you are fit enough to take on combat duty right now?”
“Sir, you know as well as I do that the injuries are completely healed physically. Just ask your wife, sir. She’s the one that fixed me up. The mandatory leave is for emotional and psychological stuff. I’m fine, sir. Yes, sir,” Jack replied, thumping his right gauntleted hand against his armored chest.
“And number two, Jack, I don’t want you doing this in any way feeling like you are repaying some sort of guilt or debt for Dee. I’m the CO. I ordered the combat operation. I am solely responsible for the results of the mission. End of story.” Alexander judged Jack’s facial expression as best he could, but Jack was as good a poker player as he was. “I mean this, Jack. Dee’s predicament is what it is and is a consequence of combat. If you are going to do this, it needs to be for the right intentions and in the right mindset.”
“Sir, I, uh, no, sir. That is not the reason. While I am Dee’s squadron leader, her wingman, her friend, and dammit sir, almost a brother to her, I don’t want to do this out of guilt. I want to do this because I’m the right man for this job and because I can improve the odds that we come out on the up side of this thing and we do get our people back home safely as one of the outcomes.” Jack took a deep breath and looked back at Alexander. He was as sincere and hardcore as Alexander had ever seen the man.
He’d have made a good marine, Alexander thought.
Yes, sir. Abigail replied. If you say so, sir. When you get a moment, the CHENG wants to go over something with you.
In a moment. Alexander looked at DeathRay, who clearly had more to say.
“Anything else, Jack?”
“Well, sir, I just wanted to say that we have lost too many people today, sir. And it’s about fucking time for us to just go in there in kill every last one of those alien motherfuckers!”
“Assemble your team, Captain.” Alexander nodded. “You have less than two hours.”
“Yes, sir!”
Chapter 28
February 19, 2407 AD
Northern Region
Alien Planet, Target Star System
700 Light-years from the Sol System
Tuesday, 12:03 A.M. Ship Standard Time
It wasn’t so much the pain any longer, because the pain had mostly subsided to a level that Dee could manage, but what troubled her most was that she’d been lying in the same spot for almost three hours bouncing in and out of consciousness, sleep, dreams, and thoughts and still wasn’t sure she would be able to do anything more to help herself. She still couldn’t move her legs no matter how much she focused her mind on the task. They just wouldn’t move. The organogel and immunoboost had stabilized her vital signs, healed most of the critical wounds, and were now moving forward with fixing even the superficial ones, but her legs still were nonfunctional. That was most likely due to the piece of alien body armor lodged in her spine just above the L4 lumbar vertebra. Dee looked through the mindview three-dimensional diagnostic of her body and suit and could see the material fragment that was the culprit. It was an alien metal that was tougher than the suit systems had dealt with in the past. The immunoboost was having a hard time dissolving the alien metal and therefore her spinal cord was cut off from her lower extremities.
Deanna Moore looked up past her mindview of her body at the stars as she fluttered into a more awakened state. The running clock in her mindview troubled her in that it likely wouldn’t be more than a half hour or so before she’d be dealing with company again. She had to get up and start to figure out her situation. Perhaps the Chiata weren’t coming for her again. Just maybe they wouldn’t send another search party after her. She didn’t really believe that.
Besides, curiosity was getting to her about the inside of the alien ruin and those damned beetles. Dee knew that this was as important for humanity as anything. She just knew it. Don’t ask her how or why she knew it, but somehow, deep down she knew that she needed to figure out what the ruins were all about and she was probably closer to doing that than any other members of the Expeditionary Fleet. So, the job was hers.
“Shit. I’ve got to get up, Bree,” she said faintly with a slight grunt. “My legs are still gone.”
I can function the legs in the suit following your motion actions and your brainwave patterns. The damage to your body is done and isn’t going to get worse or better until that alien metal is removed, her AIC told her in her mind. Just intend to walk normally and I will keep you upright. If there is more pain, tell me and I will add more pain meds.
I really don’t want any more meds. The stims have my head pounding like I have a helluva hangover. There’s a damned mecha convoy traversing from one ear to the other and around the front on a continuous loop. Anything we can do for that? Dee thought.
Drink more water, Bree told her. I’ll administer more fluids and electrolytes into your system. I would have thought the pain meds would help with that, but there is a saturation point.
“Saturation point, my ass. Unnhh, damn, here goes nothing.” Dee pulled her armored hands from the Chiata rifle that rested across her chest and pushed her elbows underneath herself. She grunted as she pushed upright. She looked about and then down at herself and realized the headless Chiata body was still draped across her legs. Instinctively, she kicked her feet and jerked her knees upwards to make the alien body roll off, but nothing happened. Her legs just simply didn’t respond. The headless and mangled alien body still lay draped across her.
She leaned forward and felt a tightness in her lower back, but not pain, and grabbed the armor around the alien’s torso and used the strength of the suit to roll the carcass off her. She looked to her left and then right and saw the M-blaster in the burned vines only a couple steps away. She had been so close to it all along. With hindsight, she actually preferred the alien’s rifle. It packed a bigger punch than her blaster or HVAR.
“I’m standing up, Bree,” she said. An outside observer looking at Dee would not have been able to tell that she wasn’t getting up on her own accord, but Dee knew. She felt awkward and off balance the entire time and felt as if she would fall over.
Don’t worry, Dee, Bree assured her in her mindvoice. I’ve got you. I will not let you fall.
Is there a way I can reach that shrapnel myself? Dee reached behind her back but could only feel a hardened lump of suit seal scabbed over there. I’ll cut it out myself if it will help.
I’m afraid not, Dee. It is deep in and lodged into the bone. You need a surgeon to remove it since the nanomachines cannot seem to dissolve it.
I was afraid of that, Dee thought. Better hope I don’t have to do any real fighting again.
I agree.
“Shit. We’ve got to get off this fucking planet.”
Deanna attached the alien firearm across her chest. The weight of it was different than the standard issue hypervelocity automatic rifle that Marines were issued. The weight was even stranger considering the fact that she had to keep the severed alien hand wrapped around the trigger mechanism in order for her to fire the weapon. It was fairly gruesome, and Dee actually hoped the sight of it might give the alien bastards a bit of pause before they fucked with her again. She doubted it though.
“Alright, what first, then?” She looked down at the dead alien at her feet and then over at her blaster. She decided to pick up the blaster as a test of Bree’s walking and motion control support. Bree anticipated her movements well, Dee thought. The two of them had been together since she had been a teen so they knew each other very intimately. They had been there for each other over the years as best internal friends. AIC-to-human relationships became close because the two shared thoughts that nobody else in the universe would ever hear. So, it didn’t seem like a big stretch that Bree could anticipate and help
make Dee’s walking movements. Even so, the walking still felt awkward to Dee because she was along for the ride and not piloting, but the motion itself was fluid and seamless.
Dee leaned over and picked up the blaster with her right hand. The suit bent perfectly at the knees to allow her to squat and then it managed to raise her back upright. Dee twirled the blaster with her right hand and then slapped it into place on her thigh. She didn’t feel the click of the holster extending, the click of the blaster into place, or the snap of the holster closing. She heard it all and could see it, but there was no tactile response from her body. It felt weird and isolated.
“Not bad,” she said. “Not great either.”
She hit the water tube in her helmet for a short burst to quench some of her thirst. The pounding in her head was still there, but it was getting better. She turned back toward the headless alien body and grabbed it by the foot with her left hand. She dragged the body across the charred black vines, occasionally stirring up red and orange embers, and small flames would spring to life, but the vines were for the most part burned away. She continued to drag the body, and the alien armor screeched, metal against stone, on the roadway underneath. The eerie screeching noise caused the local wildlife to hold deathly quiet and still. Dee pulled the body across the road to the nearest of the beetle mounds and then deployed her knife blade from the left gauntlet forearm slot. The blade shot out and locked in place with a zinging sound, and Dee quickly sliced through the alien’s leg at what she assumed was the knee. There was little blood left in the creature’s mangled corpse, but Dee hoped there’d be enough.
“Well, here goes nothing.” She tossed the leg over on top of the beetle mound and waited. But she didn’t have to wait very long.
Hundreds of the beetles poured over the edge of the mound and onto the Chiata’s body part, devouring it almost instantly. Quickly, Dee knelt down and grabbed at one of the beetles about the back. She missed it. The damned things were very fast. She grabbed at one and had it between her thumb and forefinger, but as soon as she grabbed it, the bug turned itself around within its own skeleton and stuck a five-centimeter proboscis through the armor in her glove and into her hand.
Kill Before Dying (Tau Ceti Agenda Book 5) Page 26