by James Palmer
“Commander of the Draconi vessel,” Kuttner said. “I am Captain Kuttner of the LS Onslaught. You are currently occupying League space in violation of Section Seven, Subparagraph Four of the Tycho Treaty. I demand that you state your business here.”
“I am Grand Leader Zola of the Claw,” said the Dragon. “And you are in no position to demand anything, human.” A slender, forked tongue flicking from her mouth. “We were tracking an enemy vessel into what you think of as your space. I am not surprised to find it was you.”
“What are you talking about?” said Kuttner. “We haven’t been anywhere near your territory for months. Now state your business here.”
Zola nodded her scaly head once. “Very well. If you insist on playing dumb. Several of our colonies have been destroyed, their presence wiped clean. We were dispatched to investigate, and traced the perpetrator back here.” She pointed a taloned finger toward one of their displays, which showed the planet Verdant.
“Our colony down there was also destroyed,” said Kuttner. “It looks like we have a common enemy.”
“Not likely,” said Zola. “The Egg Mother would not allow two inferior species to best us. I believe it was you who assaulted our colonies, and then destroyed your own so you would not be suspect.”
“Preposterous,” said Hamilton.
Zola glanced at the Onslaught’s first officer before continuing. “It is you, Captain Kuttner, who are in violation of the treaty.” The screen went dark. A chill flew up Kuttner’s spine. He knew what that meant.
“Get them back!”
“I can’t, sir,” said Brackett, her hands moving frantically over the communications controls. “They’re not responding.”
“Captain,” said gunner Stetson Cade. “They’re powering up their weapons.”
“Damn it!” said Kuttner, thinking frantically. The treaty, already contentious and fragile, was at stake here. But he wasn’t about to show up for his retirement party dead.
“Do the same, Gunner Cade,” he commanded. “Fire up the guns.”
“If only the central gun were online,” said Hamilton.
Kuttner nodded. The ship’s central rail gun was one of the most devastating weapons ever designed. It used two giant electromagnets to propel depleted uranium shells at incredible velocity. But it had been shut down to begin getting it ready to be scrapped along with the rest of the vessel. They wouldn’t have time to get it going again. Not now.
Gunner Cade was in his element. He fitted a dark visor over his face, and holographic readouts flickered into being around him. With his black manipulator gauntlets he worked with them, moving virtual instrument sliders into position. “Guns online and charged,” he said.
“Raise defense fields,” said Kuttner, and a readout floating nearby showed the capacitors along the Onslaught’s outer hull charging, covering the skin of the vessel with blue electric fire. If a projectile hit them it would be incinerated instantly. Kuttner wasn’t so sure about the Dragon’s energy weapons, which were like nothing mankind had seen. “All hands, battle stations.”
The Claw fired first, sending a blue stream of charged particles in their direction.
“Attempting evasive maneuvers,” said Hudson, the view of the Draconi ship skewing sideways wildly as the Onslaught’s attitude thrusters engaged to push them out of harm’s way.
The beam missed them, but just barely, tickling the vessel’s defense field as it headed into empty space.
“Keep us moving,” said Kuttner. “If they want to hit us they’re going to have to work for it.”
Kuttner’s eyes flickered from one readout to another as he braced himself for an impact. The Onslaught had been through many battles with the Draconi, and had the scars to prove it, but it was never easy, and he was well aware with each of them that the next one could be their last.
The Draconi vessel moved in pursuit of the fleeing League vessel as it sped away from the planet.
“Keep as much distance between us as you can,” said Kuttner. “And lay in a course for this star’s L1 Lagrange point.”
“You’re making for the Q-gate,” said Hamilton.
Kuttner nodded, his eyes never leaving the view screen. “If we can get to it before they do, we can come out anywhere. They won’t be able to follow. They wouldn’t dare follow us into League space.”
“They’re out for revenge,” said Hamilton. “They might.”
Kuttner ignored him as he stared at the view screen. Behind them the black ship was fast approaching, another searing blue beam of energy lancing through space toward them.
The ship shuddered, and warning sigils flew into the air all around them.
“We’ve been hit, sir,” said Hudson.
“Where?”
Hudson checked his monitors. “A glancing blow. It hit one of our capacitors. Defense field at forty percent.”
“Damn,” said Kuttner. That was it. Enough running. “Gunner Cade, you may fire at your discretion.”
“Yes, sir,” said Cade with a little too much pleasure in his voice. He touched a control stud, and a holographic cage of light formed around him in the shape of a gun turret. He clasped the virtual controls and began twisting in his seat to get a bead on the Draconi vessel. He squeezed off a few shots, and Hamilton felt the muffled thump of the Onslaught’s twin-mounted turret guns going to work.
“Confirmed hit,” said Cade proudly.
“They’re still coming,” said Hudson as he angled the ship toward the system’s small G-type star and salvation.
“They know what we’re doing,” said Hamilton. “They’re never going to let us reach the Q-gate.”
“That’s just what I’m counting on,” said Kuttner.
The deflector field—what was left of it—sizzled as it was struck by another stream of charged particles from the Draconi warship.
“Lt. Hudson,” said Kuttner. “Make for the Q-gate like our ass is on fire, but at the last possible moment, I want us to skirt around it. Think you can do that?”
“Sure, sir,” said the navigator. “But you’d best hold onto something.”
The Onslaught headed for the Q-gate at the best possible speed, the Claw dogging them the whole way. Cade fired back, the twin ion turret guns doing some damage, but not enough to make the Draconi change their minds. If anything, it only made them press the attack further.
“They’re hailing us,” said Brackett.
“On speakers,” said Kuttner.
“I see you would rather run like cowards than face your accusers. Very well. We will hound you to the edge of the galaxy.”
“And I see you’d rather mindlessly attack without provocation than listen to reason,” said Kuttner. “We’ll see what your high command thinks of your tactics. If you’d like to accompany us to the nearest Admiralty court, you may do so.”
“Why, you—”
Kuttner made a slashing motion across his neck with his finger, and Brackett cut the feed. “Don’t answer their hails anymore. Let her stew a little.”
“We’re nearing the Q-gate,” said Hudson.
“On screen.”
The viewer flickered. A tiny speck orbiting the star up ahead grew larger as they neared it. It was a large oval ring made of some dull gray metal.
“They wouldn’t dare destroy a Q-gate,” said Kuttner.
“What are you planning, sir?” asked Kuttner.
“Special tactics, my boy. Watch and learn.”
Hamilton watched the old man from his own command chair, his heart racing. Say what you want about Captain Henry Kuttner, what he didn’t know about battle tactics and strategy would barely fill a shot glass in the officer’s lounge. He would do well to sit back and let the man work.
The Q-gate loomed large in the viewer. “Everyone grab onto something,” said Hudson.
Hamilton gripped the arms of his chair as the Onslaught slewed around the giant alien artifact to the right, faster than the ship’s artificial gravity could compensate. Hamilton felt
a lump of something hot rise in his throat and stay there.
“We’re coming around the other side,” said Hudson.
“Gunner Cade, aim through the Q-gate at the Dragon vessel and give them everything we’ve got.”
“Aye, sir.”
“You’re using the Q-gate as a shield,” Hamilton said.
Kuttner nodded without looking at him. “It’s dirty pool but hopefully it’ll get the job done. The Draconi won’t strand themselves in this quadrant by risking hitting the gate.”
“They’re slowing down, sir,” said Hudson. “And they’ve stopped firing.”
When the empty space in the center of the gate loomed large, Cade fired the ship’s ion guns through the opening. The Draconi vessel looked to be in the middle of a braking maneuver, thrown off by the Onslaught’s sudden course change. The twin streams of charged particles scored a direct hit, and the alien vessel exploded in a blossom of white-hot flame that dissipated as quickly as it appeared.
“There’s going to be a lot of explaining to do,” said Kuttner after a long moment. In the meantime, let’s return to Verdant and see if we can figure out what the hell happened down there.”
Chapter Four
Among the Ruins
“We’ve got to send someone down there,” said Kuttner as they fell into orbit above the planet. “Hamilton, I want you to take some marines down there. Find out who or what did this.”
“Me, sir?” said Hamilton, clearing his throat. “I’ve never led an away mission.”
“First time for everything. We don’t know what we’re up against. This could be some new Dragon weapon those sneaky lizards are testing on our people. I want someone down there I can trust.”
Hamilton nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said, and turned to leave the command deck.
“Take a weapon with you,” said Kuttner over his shoulder. “And be ready for anything.”
Hamilton nodded once more as he left the room.
***
Sergeant Dutton made sure his men were strapped in securely before wedging himself in behind the shuttle’s pilot seat and pulling down the large shoulder restraint and locking it into place. A moment later Commander Hamilton climbed aboard the small craft and went to sit in the co-pilot’s seat. Lt. Ellison was already closing the hatch and initiating the shuttle’s launch sequence.
The trip down a planet’s gravity well toward its surface always felt like falling, but Dutton was used to it. He squeezed his eyes shut only momentarily. He wasn’t about to show the marines under his command any sign of weakness. The same held true for the Onslaught’s upstart new commander. Dutton would follow his orders to the letter, but he didn’t know Hamilton. The man wasn’t battle-tested. He had always believed that the true measurement of a man was how he behaved in a fight. He didn’t trust the man, much less like him, and he didn’t like going into an unknown situation with someone he didn’t trust.
Ellison eased the shuttle into Verdant’s blue-green atmosphere almost effortlessly and guided it toward the colony’s coordinates. The devastation was even more obvious up close. Just a huge crater where there had once been the homes of over three hundred men, women and children.
“Find us a suitable landing spot, Lieutenant,” said Hamilton. Dutton smarted at this man’s usurpation of his authority. These were his marines. He was in charge.
Ellison found a large flat hill just above the remains of the colony and set the shuttle down. Everyone disembarked quickly, and Dutton walked immediately up to Hamilton, who was using a slate to get pictures and readings of what little was left of the colony below them.
“Commander,” said Dutton gruffly. “If I might have a word?”
Hamilton paused what he was doing and looked at the marine. “Sure, Sergeant.”
“These are my men,” he said. “And I’m guessing you haven’t been on too many missions of this type.”
Hamilton nodded. “You guess correctly.”
“Well then, just so we’re clear. These are my men, and I give the orders.”
To his surprise, Hamilton grinned. “Of course, Sergeant. I won’t tell you how to do your job. I’m here just to oversee and make a report.”
Dutton nodded. That was a relief. He had expected to have to fight the man on this point, and he’d seen too many self-assured officers get their heads blown off because they thought they were kings of the universe and could go in somewhere unprepared. He moved off to prepare his men.
“All right, apes,” he said. “Eyes and ears open. I want a perimeter set up around what’s left of this place. Keep a look out for any survivors. Ellison and Bannon, you stay up here with the shuttle. The rest, you’re with me and Commander Hamilton. Let’s go.”
Hamilton still had no idea what they were expected to find, or how they could use it to figure out what happened. But he was determined to do his best. He looked at his slate, which was locked onto the automated distress beacon. As he walked down the hill he found it, buried under a few inches of topsoil. It was a large spherical object equipped with a tightbeam transmitter. He shut off the device. It looked as if it had been flung from its original location, perhaps by a fleeing colonist. Maybe they would find survivors after all and get an eyewitness account of what went down here.
Hamilton dropped the beacon to the ground and kept walking, his right hand resting on his sidearm. The marines were better prepared, hefting large T-190 rail guns. Though Hamilton didn’t think any of them would need to use their weapons.
He was wrong.
Verdant was a world of dense jungle, which had already reached out to reclaim the area once occupied by the colony. Hamilton wished for a machete as they found their way increasingly blocked by tangles of thick, blue-green vegetation. They were starting to move through the thickest growth when there was a bark of weapons fire and Corporal Hastert fell backward, his face a blossom of red mist.
“Get down!” Dutton commanded, and everyone, Hamilton included, dropped to the dense jungle floor.
Hamilton heard a weapon stutter from the thick foliage in front of them, and a tree beside him was instantly shredded. He pulled his needle gun, not sure how much help it would be. He was no marksman, and the tiny flechettes packed the most punch at close range. He’d never get a clear shot, not in this brush. He scanned the tree line, and saw a thick shadow detach itself and move sideways through the jungle with incredible speed.
“Kill anything that moves,” Dutton ordered. He glanced once at Hamilton, who returned his gaze. “Are you hurt, sir?”
“No,” said Hamilton, sitting up in a crouch.
“It’s the damned lizards,” said Dutton. “I can smell ‘em.” He fired at something before moving ahead, he, Sanchez, and Phillips forming a slow moving line as they advanced carefully, weapons raised to their shoulders. He glanced back once toward Hamilton. “Stay where you are,” he said before he and his fellow marines disappeared into the dense foliage.
Hamilton stayed where he was, panting in the jungle heat. Whoever had attacked them had lost the element of surprise, and were probably moving farther back into the jungle to maintain cover. Hamilton stood slowly and cautiously, well aware that with his officer’s uniform he might as well be wearing a giant target on his chest.
Ahead and to the right, he heard another blast of weapons fire. It sounded like one of theirs. Then nothing. He touched the comm stud on his lapel and listened, his cochlear implant tuned to the frequency the marines were using. He heard heavy breathing and boots crunching leaves.
“Sit rep,” Hamilton said.
“I got one,” said Dutton in reply. It’s a lizard all right. Jungle’s probably teeming with them.”
Hamilton highly doubted it, but said nothing. He was going to need Dutton to remain on his side if he was going to get out of here alive. There was another blast of artillery, and Phillips screamed in his ear.
“My leg!” he said.
The marines opened up with everything they had then. Hamilton saw trees and bush
es far ahead in the thick jungle shred and fall. There was more movement.
“Dammit!” Hamilton shouted. “Dutton, get your men out of there.”
“Brannon, get your ass down here,” said Dutton over his comm. “Ellison, prepare the shuttle for immediate evac.”
“Get out of there, Sergeant,” said Hamilton again, more forcefully this time. He was about to head in their direction when something crashed out of the jungle and struck him sidewise, knocking him down. He jumped up, holstered his weapon, and moved after it.
Chapter Five
The Admiral
Captain Kuttner had never been comfortable making direct calls to the Admiralty, but the protocol in cases like this demanded it. He sat nervously in the ship’s ready room while the tightbeam transmitter bounced his communication request off the various Q-gate relays, drumming his fingers on the translucent tabletop.
After almost ten minutes the tightbeam receiver chimed, and Kuttner touched the com stud. Holo emitters in the center of the table flickered to life, and an image coalesced in the air in front of him, alive with decaying tachyons. In a matter of seconds, the image of Kuttner’s old friend and commanding officer appeared.
“Hello, Hank,” she said, smiling.
“Hello, Alice,” said Kuttner.
Admiral Alice Sheldon was seventy-five—Kuttner remembered because he had attended her last birthday party—but she no longer looked it. He had heard rumors that she was undergoing de Gray treatments to extend her longevity, now here was proof. Her once wrinkled skin was now taut and pink as a newborn’s, and her short curly hair, once a fine slate gray, was now shot through with patches of light brown. It was like she was aging in reverse, which Kuttner supposed she was. But the overall effect was rather disconcerting.
“You’re looking well,” said Kuttner.
“Thanks, Hank,” she said, smiling. “You too. It’s been too long.”
“Yes it has,” said Kuttner. “But I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. There’s been an…incident in the Verdant system.”