by Britt Ringel
* * *
He and his men were at a steady jog. The noise from the boots of his twenty-five marines forced him to raise his voice to be heard. “Starzy Sierzant Nilis Vidic reports for duty, Podporucznik…?” His reporting statement finished in a question as he was unsure of the young Brevic officer’s name. She had barely acknowledged him before spinning in place and setting off in a quick jog to lead his platoon out of the shuttle hangar. Vidic was surprised, and dismayed, to see a Brevic naval officer would be advising his platoon. A naval officer had never led him in combat before.
Already a reluctant recruit to transfer to the Brevic vessel, Vidic found the proposition insulting. What does this little girl know about combat? Does the Komandor really expect me to follow the orders of this soft ‘Vic child, who probably owes her officer’s status more to her family’s surname than any real military action? The young officer’s legs pumped rapidly to keep up with Vidic’s long, lanky strides. ‘Vic notions of what makes a suitable combat leader are certainly peculiar, he judged with a touch of superiority. Even without the initial annoyance of the green Brevic officer, just being inside a Brevic ship was strange to Vidic. The lighting was wrong, the portals were shaped slightly different and the decks were not lined with an abrasive non-skid surface. His eyes wandered as he searched for other differences between Kite and Phoenix before he caught himself. Focus, Nilis, he thought.
“Gables,” the young officer said loudly, finally answering him. “And it’s ‘ensign,’ not ‘podporucznik,’ Sierzant, but if your troopers keep our engineering section clean of those aliens, you can call me whatever the hell you want.”
The Hollaran marine had his doubts about the last part of the child-ensign’s statement, but he knew that he and his platoon would defend their assigned section of the Brevic ship well enough. Word had come down from Porucznik Greif that Komandor Lombardi had explicitly ordered this platoon be outfitted with the arms deemed most effective for killing the Parasites and be led by Vidic himself. Each of his three rifle sections not only had a converted flame unit but also three marines armed with multi-rifles underslung with shotguns. Supplementing the arsenal, the rest of his troopers had adaptive laser-scatterers affixed to their rifles. Originally designed for crowd control, the device split a normally lethal beam of energy into dozens of smaller, less potent “mini-beams.” A scatterer had yet to be used on a parasite swarm but hope existed that the attachment might render the standard marine multi-rifle at least marginally effective against the aliens.
“We are defending Engineering?” He intentionally omitted her rank. Other ‘Vics might call her an officer but my standards are higher, he justified. “How many access points are there?” he followed up in an equally loud but measured voice. It took more than a steady jog, even in full combat kit, for Vidic’s heart rate to increase.
“We’ve welded them down to three. A main access and, if they become necessary, two escape routes,” the ensign replied. She cast a sideways glance at the marine and added, “We can’t let it become necessary, Sierzant. If they take control of Engineering, they’ll basically have the ship. That’s why we’re using the full Hollie platoon there. My other two rifle squads are protecting farther forward. It’d probably be a mistake to split you guys up anyway.”
She is right about that, Vidic thought. I would trust any of my marines with my life in combat but I am still a little nervous that one of them could let loose with a “stray shot” that might happen to take out a ‘Vic officer, even one as obviously harmless as this one. He had discussed this concern with his platoon in the shuttle ride over. Finally, he had also told his marines that if they disgraced the Hollaran Marine Corps in such a fashion they should not expect a court martial but rather swift and decisive field punishment and then left it at that. He pushed the thoughts from his mind. At some point you just have to stop worrying about what might happen and let them fight, he reminded himself. After a few moments of additional consideration, he hedged. “Just stick close to me, Gables.” Better safe than sorry.
A strange alarm blared throughout the corridor, startling him.
“The aliens are diving in,” Ensign Gables explained. “If they ram us, you’ll hear three, high-pitched honks.”
* * *
The order to fire was unnecessary. Rather than issue the obvious command, Heskan merely looked at the tactical plot to gauge the distance between his fleet and the aliens. The two combatants were 3.98ls apart. Just a .02ls deviance from what we planned, he thought. Not bad. Better still for the fleet, happenstance had placed the aliens’ dive location slightly shaded toward the far side of the Terran formation. Curator and Nuno haven’t taken as much damage as Kite, and Curator’s KDTs should have a field day with those cutters. “How many, Jack?” Heskan asked.
“Rough estimate is two thousand with more diving in every second,” Truesworth said rapidly as he manipulated the electronic countermeasures controls on his console. To date, ECM had been largely ineffective against the cutters but it gave him a sense of purpose.
As Truesworth gave his estimate, Kite’s opening AMS and RSL shots were already streaking across space to touch the leading edge of the wave of cutters. The tiny ships had yet to make their course corrections or begin acceleration from .1c.
A large section of the alien vanguard disappeared as ninety-nine discrete laser turrets had salvoed nearly in unison from the Terran fleet. The cutters were easy targets, their pilots apparently still reeling from the transition to normal space. Two seconds later, the fleet’s seventy-three AMS and GP lasers belched out charged bursts of energy once again. Two heartbeats later, the heavy Hollaran Issic laser turrets and the Brevic RSLs added their fire to their smaller cousins.
Kite and her companions extended the distance between themselves and their pursuers as the cutters made minute course corrections toward the human ships and began their astonishingly fast accelerations. By the time the distance between the two fleets grew to just under 5ls, the Terran fleet had fired six salvos. Three of these were purely AMS and GP laser shots but the slower cycling, heavy lasers augmented the other three barrages. The combined fire accounted for five hundred sixteen shots against the cloud of alien cutters in the first dozen seconds of the engagement.
Of those shots, four hundred eighty-five found their quarry. Most of the cutters struck were destroyed outright as the small ships were unable to maintain structural integrity under the hard acceleration to .35c while simultaneously losing ten to twenty percent of their mass. Even those not destroyed were rendered moot by critical system failures inside the cutters.
Nearly a quarter of the initial alien wave had been blunted, but the balance of power began to tip as the cutters reached impossible speeds and closed the distance. Just fourteen seconds after the first cutters appeared in the system, the expanse between the leading edge of the wave and the Terran fleet had shrunk to 4.94ls. Another twenty-two seconds into the contest, and a further five hundred sixteen shots fired, saw an additional four hundred sixty-nine cutters removed from existence.
Vernay’s voice was full of hope. “Close to halfway through them, Captain.”
A brief check of the tactical plot revealed that while the tip of the alien spear was horribly mangled, the entire wave still retained over half of its initial strength and was just 4.06ls from the formation. Worse still, new cutters were diving into the system, creating the all too familiar teardrop pattern that had come to symbolize the Parasite starship standard attack formation. “We have about thirty seconds left before they make impact,” Heskan stated. Things looked promising but he knew that soon Kite’s RSLs would be forced to stagger their shots or face shutdown due to critical heat levels. Will they break through once our fire slackens? he asked himself.
Time slowed for Heskan. Even though he knew better than to try to issue commands to his overloaded crew, it was difficult to let the events unfold in silence. Another ten seconds passed and Heskan could see his ship’s RSLs suffering. An additional four hun
dred fifty-nine cutters had been shattered by the fleet’s last half-dozen salvos. A glance along the side of the tactical display revealed an estimated one thousand four hundred thirteen kills tallied. Yet nearly seven hundred front-line cutters remained with hundreds of additional cutters strung out behind the crest of the wave.
Four hundred fifty-three more cutters perished over the next ten seconds. Mindless to the destruction around them and less than 1ls from the human ships, the one hundred sixty-six cutters remaining at the tip of the alien assault made fractional course adjustments for their final runs toward individual prey.
In the final seconds before contact, Heskan looked at the tactical plot with a mixture of despair and resentment. We did everything we could, he reconciled with the imminent collisions. Took every advantage possible… and we’ve still failed. “Prepare for impact,” Heskan warned as he involuntarily gripped the arms of his command chair.
The leading alien edge merged with the human starships in an instant. The first fourteen cutters to strike at the combined fleet were rewarded with obliteration as shield systems across the formation flared visibly to absorb and deflect the kinetic assaults before failing. Less than an eighth of a second later the Terran ships, now completely exposed to the danger, began to shudder from impacts. Heskan felt a slight tremor on the bridge and knew Kite had taken at least one strike. Rather than ask Chief Brown exactly how many cutters had rammed his ship, he stared intently at the tactical plot. Although the initial tsunami of cutters had now washed over the fleet, the aliens were still coming in a constant, though reduced, stream. If we’ve taken so many hits that we can’t fend off the remaining assault, the past month has been for nothing.
To his great relief, every ship in the formation fired defensive shots during the next salvo and over the next twelve seconds two hundred fifty-eight of two hundred sixty cutters shattered into debris. The two standouts struck along the long axis of Nuno.
“Capt’n, Kite’s taken two hits. Both aft,” Brown reported while sounding the collision alert.
Truesworth, having abandoned his fruitless ECM efforts after the impacts, spun in place and added, “Curator has at least three strikes. I count six hits on Nuno… that side of the formation got pounded.”
“Phoenix?” Vernay questioned.
“Same as Curator, ma’am,” Truesworth replied. “She took three, maybe four hits.”
More AMS shots reached out from Kite to swat away twenty-seven cutters within range. “Captain,” Vernay said, “the right side will collapse unless we assist.”
Heskan could already see Vaettir’s heavy lasers lancing toward the far side of the formation in an effort to protect the beleaguered flank. “Tony, use the RSLs to support the right side of the square.” Fortunately for Kite, her drives were oriented in the direction needed. “Dian—Jessie, push us closer to the right. We’ve got to get our AMS turrets helping or we all die after the right flank folds.” The fire from Curator and Nuno was diminishing rapidly, and the ships were beginning to slow. He pressed his squadron-wide comm button. “Komandor Christova, mirror Kite’s movements. We’re contracting the left side of the formation to better support the right.”
On the plot, a quartet of cutters closed on Nuno. Three of the corresponding red symbols on Kite’s tactical plot flashed before fading as her RSLs erased their real-world counterparts. What happens when our RSLs shut down completely? Additional thought on the matter evaporated when Kite shuddered again. He looked at Lieutenant Spencer with exasperation and barked, “We’re hit again?”
Without turning to face his captain, the weapons officer said apologetically, “Afraid so, sir. Our RSLs are overheating and we can’t cover Curator and Nuno and ourselves with just the AMSs.”
Heskan stared at the optical image of his fleet. Before his eyes, another cutter appeared in the side of the Hollaran light cruiser. Is that her eighth? The diminishing tide was receding from the bulk of the fleet, the leading edge of the stream of cutters being pushed back slightly. Even Curator, with aid from Phoenix, opened a light-second’s space of breathing room between herself and the onrush of aliens. Although all of the ships in the combined fleet were slowing under the nullifying effects of the alien technology, Curator and especially Nuno were decelerating more rapidly. The mismatch in fleet speed would soon be a real problem. Additional RSL fire swatted urgently at a group of cutters destined for Nuno. Direct hits annihilated four but other ships took their place. Nuno desperately needed rescue by her escorts.
“Incoming message from Phoenix,” Truesworth blurted out as he broadcast the voice message.
Lombardi’s voice was a mixture of despair and regret. “Stop protecting Nuno, Garrett!” she implored. “She’s a lost cause. Save your shots for Curator.”
No, we’ve come too far to lose her, Heskan agonized while watching the pockmarked light cruiser shudder with two further strikes. His heart ached at the thought of losing yet another ship under his protection. After a deep breath, he stared bitterly at the optical of Nuno and tried to be objective; the light cruiser was in dire straits. Finally, he assented and said with a roughened voice, “You heard her, Tony.” Before he received an acknowledgement, Heskan watched Nuno begin to rotate to face the Junction tunnel point. His gloomy eyes widened with a grim understanding. Confirming his worst fears, the light cruiser’s main drives touched off, checking her speed even more. We’ve lost her, Heskan realized. They mean to take her back to Junction. Heskan quickly pounded the squadron-wide comm frequency even as he heard Vernay’s frantic command match his own.
“Fire everything at Nuno!” they shouted in unison.
Outside of 5ls range, the best Kite could offer Nuno was her four forward-firing radiant stream laser batteries. Unfortunately, RSL-9 and RSL-10 were facing away from the tunnel point and unmanned. The result was a meager, twin stream of charged energy streaking out of the lenses of the RSL-1 and RSL-2 turrets. The laser fire slashed through the rear hull of Nuno near the cruiser’s starboard maneuvering drives. The trio of engines glowed briefly under the assault and began to shake as moving parts within the mechanisms of each drive melted together, throwing the drive cluster out of balance.
Scorching across space behind the RSL shots, Hollaran heavy laser fire ripped into Nuno from the three bearing Issic turrets of Phoenix. Nuno’s minimal profile toward her sisters resulted in stern-raking fire that devastated nearly a third of the way into the length of the missile cruiser. The energy from the Issic bursts penetrated far deeper into the prize ship than Kite’s RSLs, reaching as far as Engineering.
Entire compartments were shattered and vented to space even as the delicate machinery inside those compartments evaporated. The main drives of Nuno began to dim from the heavy blows as thrusters along the port side of the cruiser misfired, causing it to yaw slightly to starboard.
If Lombardi held regret over the need to destroy one of her own companions, Phoenix displayed none of it. Even as Nuno spat wreckage from the gaping rents in the aft third of her hull, a second salvo of Issic fire, supplemented by Vaettir, finished what the first shots had begun. Nuno’s primary core containment chamber, already a devastated wreck, was thoroughly demolished by the follow-up shots. Nuno’s core breached upon its second direct hit and the emergency shutdown controls, previously ruined by the fusillade of fire, failed to purge the power system. Just as Nuno’s starboard maneuvering drive cluster, damaged from the initial RSL shots, received automatic commands to safely shut down, her core was exposed and detonated.
From the corner of his eye, Heskan saw Lieutenant Spencer’s jaw drop open as the optical view on the bridge’s wall screen flashed brightly to herald Nuno’s obliteration. The lieutenant then swiftly exchanged unfathomable glances with Heskan before ducking his head back to his console. Heskan refocused on the tactical plot in time to see yet another cutter symbol merge with Curator. How soon until we’re forced to destroy her? he asked himself. The situation was desperate but the stream of cutters was waning. “Jessie, yo
u’ve got to get us inside of five light-seconds!’ Heskan commanded.
“Eleven more seconds until positioned, sir,” she promised.
“Capt’n,” Brown said loudly, “I’m gettin’ a decompression request from Engineerin’.”
“What? They’re that deep?” Heskan stammered. “Transfer it to me.” He looked down at his comm console and immediately barked, “Engineering, this is Heskan. Report.”
The raucous background noise in his shocksuit helmet’s speakers threatened to drown out Ensign Gables’ voice. Heavy staccato bursts of multi-rifle fire mixed with screams made Gables’ desperate shouts seem otherworldly compared to the relatively quiet composure on the bridge.
Chapter 14
The ‘Vic rifles resonote much deeper than ours, he thought with professional detachment. To Sierzant Vidic’s immediate right, the Brevic ensign was shouting directly into her helmet’s mic to convey their desperate situation to her captain but the sierzant thought the cacophony around them did a much better job.
“We’re losing Engineering, Captain!” the young ‘Vic officer bellowed. Curiously, Vidic noted there was not a trace of panic in her voice, even though the ensign was screaming. When hostilities had commenced, the ensign’s astounding metamorphosis from child to battle-sage had been remarkable. Vidic brought his multi-rifle quickly up and swept it across the cloud of Parasites breaching the door. He had abandoned aiming with the optics mounted on his rifle as the range made it impossible to miss. The tip-mounted scatterer split the laser beam and he could faintly see the curtain of light cut out a wedge from the haze of aliens.
Gables pointed urgently with her right hand at a maintenance hatchway to Vidic’s right. More infected Brevic sailors were crawling through it, pouring into the compartment. Her left hand pushed firmly to the left side of her helmet, attempting to press the earbud deeper into her ear as she updated her captain. “We’ve fallen all the way back to just outside the core containment room but they’re concentrating their attack here.” Three shotgun blasts emanating from behind their position punctuated her statement. The infected sailors all but disintegrated under the close range spray of kinetic projectiles ripping through their ranks. As each infected Brevic fell, the Parasites detached from their host and pressed their assault toward the Hollaran marines.