by Britt Ringel
“Down!” she yelled while simultaneously pulling both triggers. The noise became deafening and she felt the incredible heat briefly before her shocksuit compensated for the temperature change. She adjusted her aim upward when she saw the narrow jet of flame turn into a wide cone as the pressurized chemicals gushed from the unit. With her visor polarized, Gables was able to keep the sticky, flammable liquid from arcing downward onto the sliding bodies of her comrades. Vernay and Heskan skidded several meters before coming to rest in front of Gables. They both began to crawl past the arsonist as thundering fire alarms sounded around them.
The wall of flame enveloped the aliens and Gables could see bright spots erupt inside where parasites caught fire and dropped like miniature meteors onto the deck. Triggers firmly pressed, she swept the nozzle back and forth, making sure to cover the entire width of the hall. Even the aliens on Vernay and Heskan detached and retreated from the devilish heat of the attack. Gables saw them fly straight, quick paths past and behind her but ignored them to continue the relentless incendiary assault on the main body. Close to her but inside the firestorm, twin human figures danced in the inferno. They bumped into each other and the bulkheads before coming to rest on the deck. Mercifully, no sounds of agony carried over the commotion but Gables knew the horrific visage would stay with her forever. Past the now still forms, she believed the meteor shower of aliens was ending.
Cautiously, she released the triggers. The corridor remained ablaze but nothing charged out of the bonfire. Rolling clouds of thick smoke filled the passageway. Gables knew that Kite’s computers would automatically attempt to vent the foul fumes from the hallway and erect containment fields in its effort to suppress the fire, but the ferocity of the burning hall still frightened her.
“Ma’am,” Spaceman Peters cried over the racket, “we’ve got to move back. It’s the heat. I’m worried about these tanks.”
Gables turned off her torch and backed away from the fire with her support crew. When they turned the corner into the next hallway, she saw the bridge crew had assembled near the entrance to Navigation. “Is anyone still in there?” she asked.
Lieutenant Spencer answered, “Skeleton crew. Most of them evacuated when the CIC warned them of the approaching aliens.”
Gables grunted and then said, “I’ve got to get to Sergeant Cooper.” She pointed at her flame unit as she explained, “Before Truesworth called, we were bringing him this to help his squad. He said maybe twenty percent of the aliens from the aft hit have avoided their decompression attempts.”
A slurred, gravelly voice choked out, “Go, Denise. Save my ship. We’ll take care of—” Heskan, on his hands and knees, fell into another coughing fit briefly but managed to finish, “the fire,” in a progressively weaker voice.
Without so much as a nod, Gables and her Operations crew trotted away. Lieutenant Vernay looked at the exhausted group and then finally at Heskan. “How do we handle the fire, Captain? Ops is already busy.”
Both Heskan and Brown answered in unison, “Engineering.” Heskan bobbed his head upon hearing the chief. Still on the deck and struggling for oxygen, Heskan gestured for Brown to continue.
“You can get Jackamore’s wrench-monkeys to fight ‘em as the fires pop up. They’re all fully qualified firefighters an’ they don’t have much goin’ on right now compared to the rest of us.”
“Good thinking,” Vernay agreed and walked over to Heskan to help him up. “We’ve got to get to Medical. Has Diane come around yet?”
Selvaggio was still wrapped around Brown’s shoulders. He replied with a concerned look, “Hasn’t made a peep since the mess.”
Chapter 4
Lieutenant Vernay entered the bridge second. Chief Brown had insisted on leading the way in the event there were infected crewmembers waiting for them. Chief Cohen, in the CIC, had brought the lieutenant up to speed as the command team moved from Kite’s sickbay back to the bridge. Kite was internally secure but the situation outside of her hull was unknown. During the boarding action, a good portion of the ship’s sensor section had been lost to the parasites and those who survived were forced to abandon their stations. Kite was, in essence, sailing blind.
The most recent attack had conclusively proven that any crewmembers infected by the parasites transferred their knowledge of Kite to the aliens. The evidence had come at a costly price in the form of very clever and devastating traps. The annihilation of B-Squad resulted from infected engineers circling behind the defensive formation of the marines and changing the portal access codes to prevent their withdrawal. Curiously, a second group of infected engineers had not activated Kite’s shuttle bay doors to forcibly expel the marines of A-Squad as they eliminated the alien resistance in the hangar. This failure to act hinted at a reluctance of the aliens controlling infected crew to kill potential hosts. Vernay suspected this might be some instinctive quality on behalf of the aliens not to squander prospective “food.”
The bridge was clear and Vernay quickly moved to the captain’s chair. “Jack, get Ensign Meyer up here to take control of Navigation. Tony, you’re the acting first officer so either Miller or Fong needs to high-tail it to the WEPS station.”
Both Heskan and Selvaggio remained in Kite’s sickbay. Doctor Thomas insisted on observing Heskan for the next couple of hours and the captain had been too weak to disagree with him. Selvaggio remained unconscious. Vernay punched at her station’s console controls to bring the tactical display to Kite’s main wall screen and open a communications channel to the CIC. The last time we were here, the Hollies were about to blow us away. “Chief Cohen, we’re back on the bridge. We have control now.”
The chief’s voice responded quickly, “Acknowledged, ma’am. The SIGHT subsection was pretty much wiped out but Ensign Newton’s ECM section is taking over. We’ll get you a picture outside soon.” Truesworth faced Vernay and nodded in agreement with the assessment.
She examined Truesworth’s pained expression with empathy. He’s just realizing that a third of his section is dead. I know how that feels. Tenderness filled her voice. “I know, Jack, and I’m sorry. Just try to focus on your job.”
Ensigns Fong and Meyer entered the bridge within moments of each other. Both officers moved around the command area to seat themselves at their stations. From Vernay’s left, Spencer said, “Getting a tactical picture now, ma’am.”
The tactical plot unfroze and the symbols of ships showing half-hour-old positions blinked to their current locations. The frozen alien vessels disappeared entirely but taking their place was a slow, steady stream of cutters trailing from the tunnel point, 7lm away, toward the assembly of Brevic and Hollaran warships. Though slowed, the combined fleet was still moving toward the Iocaste tunnel point with the Hollaran vessels in covering positions for Kite and Curator. Lombardi’s heavy cruiser was closest, at 4ls, followed shortly by a light cruiser and then, 11ls distant, the final cruiser. Bolt was gone.
Chief Cohen informed Vernay that his lone conversation with Komandor Lombardi had been short and simple. She insisted her ships would not take aggressive action against the Brevic ships and suggested her ships act as the rear guard against the futile ramming attempts from the remaining trickle of cutters. They were making such runs at a rate of about six per minute. No attempt to organize the long stream of ships into a more decisive group was discernible and each cutter acted as independently and thoughtlessly as the aliens had in Kale. Vernay was relieved that the updated tactical plot confirmed Cohen’s report.
A glance at Curator suggested the escort destroyer was in much better trim than Kite. I need to know Curator’s status. She tapped commands into the comm console and Lieutenant Alan Arnold’s portrait appeared on the main wall screen. The New Londoner’s accent gave his words an air of formality.
“It’s about time, Kite. I was beginning to become a little concerned, Commander.”
Vernay answered, “This is Lieutenant Vernay. Captain Heskan is in the sickbay.” Her stomach seized as the implica
tions of Heskan’s absence struck her.
Arnold stated the repercussions as a matter of fact. “Then command of the CortRon has passed to me. I assume that’s why you called, to notify me.”
Um, sure. That’s why, she thought. Vernay reflected briefly on Arnold’s distaste for the current truce. Surely, he isn’t going to break it. We’re too damaged to fight right now. We need the Hollarans. The truism made Vernay’s blood run cold. She had grown up hating the enemy as much as any other Brevic patriot, and the realization that she and her crew’s survival rested with Komandor Lombardi—any Hollaran—meant their remaining lifespans might be measured in hours, or maybe minutes. Her eyes wandered back to the tactical plot. Yet there they are, defending us when we’re at our most vulnerable.
Arnold cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, what is Kite’s present combat capability?”
She looked questioningly at Spencer and raised an eyebrow.
“We’re down some gunners. A few crews were infected early in the hits. Our shields are regenerating so most of the generators are functional. Engineering is in good shape but a lot of them are still putting out fires set by the marines. SENS is a mess right now. Operations is transitioning from acting as ad hoc marines back to their primary duties. I hate to say it, ma’am, but Kite isn’t ready for a fight.”
Vernay acknowledged the report and considered the source. I know Spencer hates me after the reaming I gave him before Sponde and I know he doesn’t like this truce any more than Arnold does, but I appreciate that he can put personal feelings aside and give me an honest assessment, even if it conflicts with what he wishes were true. She addressed the man on Kite’s wall screen. “Captain Arnold, Kite’s suffered serious damage and we’ve lost a lot of crew. She wouldn’t put up much of a fight right now.”
“Blast,” Arnold muttered and looked away. “With the Hollies distracted, this would be a good time to finish them. If we could take out that heavy cruiser, all that would be essentially left is the one light cruiser. I don’t think the damaged one has much left.”
“We’re just escort destroyers, Captain,” Vernay reminded Arnold.
“Yes, but we’d have the surprise,” Arnold maintained. “Plus, they’d have to split their fire since they foolishly took up a position between us and the aliens. We may never get a better chance than this.”
Vernay casually muted her mic and dipped her head as she spoke to her left. “Tony, call down to sickbay. Tell Doctor Thomas of the situation and let him know if he doesn’t release the captain, he’ll have ten times the casualties he has now.”
Lieutenant Arnold continued scheming. “I need to get Curator to a better position first. She needs to be inside of five light-seconds of that closest light cruiser so we can shift fire immediately after Lombardi’s ship goes.”
Vernay heard Arnold’s muffled voice issue orders to Curator’s navigator. Panicked, she thought, I’ve got to stop this! But how? I’m not ready to refuse a direct order from a superior officer, especially when that order is as simple as fire on the enemy.
“Lieutenant Vernay,” Arnold resumed, “our first target will be Phoenix. Center mass hits. As soon as she breaks up, turn your attention to the undamaged light cruiser. The damaged one, I think they call it Vaettir, is just outside their heavy laser range and that will give us valuable time to reduce the other cruiser.” He looked briefly down at his chair arm console. “So stupid of them,” he said as he shook his head. “That Lombardi bird must not be terribly fit to have made such a gross tactical mistake. We’re almost in position. Wait for my command to open fire.”
Think, Stacy! Her mind raced before her mouth twitched upward slightly as she struck upon an idea. Okay, if I can’t stop it, maybe I can slow it down. “Captain Arnold, we need a few minutes to get gunners to the correct laser turrets. Some of the turrets facing the Hollies were abandoned or had their gunners infected during the last attack.” This was truth. Vernay knew that a full twenty percent of the turrets facing the Hollaran ships were functional but missing operators. Without muting her channel, she ordered, “Tony, make that happen. Strip gunners from Gunner’s Mate Barr’s section and tell me when we’re manned.” As she issued the command, she slyly operated her comm console to request communications with Phoenix while muting her connection with Arnold.
Seconds later, Phoenix granted the comm request. Kite’s main screen split again to accommodate Komandor Lombardi. The Hollaran officer’s shocksuit helmet was off and her sweat-soaked, dark hair had been pulled tightly into a ponytail. She chewed her lip briefly before asking, “Where is your captain, Kite?”
Vernay raised her hand, palm out. “One moment, please, Komandor.”
Switching channels, Vernay announced to Arnold, “Captain, I have Komandor Lombardi on another channel. I think she believes command of the CortRon is still with Kite.” Misleading but technically true.
“Buggers,” Arnold cursed. “Put her through but stay in the channel. Make no word of our plan. I’ll get rid of her quick and we can finish coordinating the attack. Damned bad timing...”
Yeah, what a shame, Vernay thought derisively as she merged the communications channels.
Lombardi’s expression clearly conveyed annoyance at being called and then put on hold by a junior Brevic officer. However, before she could voice her exasperation, Vernay stated, “Komandor, Captain Heskan is being attended to in our sickbay. Captain Arnold is the acting squadron commander.”
The dismayed Hollaran eyed Arnold with open suspicion. “You will keep our alliance, yes?”
Arnold smiled disarmingly. “Of course, Komandor. In fact, I’m moving Curator closer to support your ships.”
An obvious wave of concern passed over the Hollaran’s face as she spoke. “That is not necessary. The aliens seem to be breaking off their attack. If you notice the tunnel point, you can see one of the alien super-carriers has dove in and the cutters are holding near it.” Lombardi returned her gaze to Vernay and asked, “Will Kite be able to achieve point-two-C? We must run while they permit it.” Vernay noticed Lombardi’s eyes dart quickly away and then return to her screen.
Vernay took several moments as if considering the question before nodding measuredly. “Kite can resume battle speeds in a few minutes. Our marines are neutralizing the cutters that rammed us as we speak.”
“Good, then send a signal when you are ready to increase your speed,” Lombardi replied. “I must go now.”
Arnold smiled. “Farewell, Koman—”
“Wait!” Vernay cried.
All eyes turned toward Vernay as she fumbled, “Um, Komandor Lombardi… has Phoenix seen any lifeboats from Bolt? You’re closer to where she detonated and our sensors are a bit of a mess right now.”
Arnold’s smile transformed into a deep frown and his eyes burrowed into Vernay even as she quickly looked away from him. If Lombardi noticed the exchange, she did not reveal it. “No, sorry, Lieutenant. It looked like she was overwhelmed very fast. I have an incoming message from Vaettir. I must answer it.”
“Oh, Komandor, one more thing,” Vernay blurted. “Kite has a very important message for your squadron.” She looked around the bridge, as if Kite’s important message might coalesce from thin air. Crap! Think of something, Stacy. As her eyes scanned over the room, she saw Chief Brown’s bemusement. “Um, uh,” she stuttered. “Well, we just wanted to… thank you? And we wanted to… inform you that…” She trailed off. Still groping for words, Vernay accidentally looked at Arnold again and cringed at his hostile stare. His livid demeanor stopped her faltering words in their tracks.
Heskan’s voice filled the painful silence from behind Vernay. “To thank Phoenix for its support and to inform you that we won’t betray your trust.” Heskan circled around the captain’s chair and looked pointedly at Arnold. “Right, Captain?”
Before Arnold could respond, Lombardi replied, somewhat mystified, “Okay. You are welcome but I must go now. Vaettir will not wait.” She hastily nodded in Heskan’s direction an
d terminated her connection.
Arnold spoke immediately after her channel closed. “Lieutenant Vernay, I know full well what you did! You’ve directly circumvented my orders and as your vice commander, I will note your actions in my report.”
Vernay silently hopped out of the captain’s chair, ignoring Arnold. “Welcome back, Captain. You look terrible.”
* * *
Heskan felt as bad as he looked. Doctor Thomas had assured him the swelling in his face would subside, eventually. For now, it was as if his cheeks were nothing but dead flesh. The skin immediately surrounding each alien puncture site was turning a deep purple and forming a hard crust. Thomas had remarked that his face was curiously similar to skin exposed to extreme cold for a prolonged period.
As bad as he felt and looked, Diane Selvaggio had it much worse. Mercifully, she was still unconscious. However, the navigator’s entire body was in as bad a condition as Heskan’s face. Additionally, she was experiencing involuntary, periodic convulsions that Thomas could not prevent. When Heskan left Medical, Selvaggio’s survival was in doubt.
Heskan groaned as he sat himself onto his chair. “Status?”
Arnold, still seething on Kite’s wall screen, answered, “Commander, this is our best chance to eliminate the Hollarans. They’re distracted and out of position.”
Heskan pointed at the tactical plot. “That’s changing, Alan. Vaettir is closing formation now that the aliens have stopped their attack.”
“Well,” Arnold stammered, “we had the chance but your first officer deliberately sabotaged our attack plans. I’m placing that in her record!”
Vernay shrugged innocently at Heskan as she displaced Spencer from the first officer’s seat.
“Alan,” Heskan asked in as diplomatic a tone as possible, “can we make it back to Brevic space before we go about ruining other officers’ careers, please?” He watched Spencer cross the bridge to the WEPS station, place a hand on Ensign Fong’s shoulder and mutter, “Back to the bush leagues, Naoto.”