“What was that all about?” demanded Doc, hands dropping from his ears. Helen turned to the team’s medic with a response.
“I can't tell if I hit it,” Helen said, sounding disappointed as the superheated muzzle of her assault rifle glowed in aftercharge. “I swear, the thing moved like a rat.”
Doc looked confused, hands raised. “What could possibly have…”
“Guys! I think I found something!”
Helen and Doc spun around to see Calico kneeling next to an unusually large pile of corpses, one that looked like the bodies had been deliberately placed. Helen hurried over and knelt down next to Calico as the young speaker moved several bodies aside.
“What is it? Did you find the Admiral?”
“Look at this.”
Calico moved the last couple bodies, two Vorch and a Flog, and revealed what they had all landed on with the intention of hiding. In the deck—in what used to be a sealed access plug—was a jagged hole, showing signs of being blown open with energy bolts and slugfest rounds. The hole was small, barely two feet wide, but it opened up to a small space between two pipes that ran parallel to the hallway. Helen couldn’t believe what she was looking at.
“Son of a… I can’t believe it. They blew through the access hole in the floor in a matter of seconds.”
“I can guess why.” Calico held up what she’d found. A piece of torn cloth, ripped off on a jagged edge on the hole. It was the right color and type of material to belong to the uniform of a Yew Admiral. Helen immediately thought of the moving sounds she’d heard under the deck.
“Doc, check for the Admiral. He might be dead down there.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Doc lay down on the deck and lowered his upper half slowly into the hole, trying not to lose his balance. Doc waited for his eyes to adjust, then drew back suddenly, pulling himself to his knees in one quick motion.
“Gun!” said the medic, urgently.
Calico passed him his Casper, and the medic jammed the submachine gun into the hole and loosed a volley of .45 rounds. He let up on the trigger and the three ESCs listened to the ricocheted bullets bounce about for another second. Doc threw his gun aside with a clatter and stuck his head down the hole again.
“Blast!” he said, pulling back and ripping his gloves off. “Not a hit. And now he's out of range!”
“Spit!” shouted Helen, pumping her fingers into an angry fist. “And who knows where these pipes lead to! We lost him!”
“Don't be so pessimistic,” Calico groaned, dropping to her knees and unfastening her ballistic vest. “Doc, get me out of this thing, quick.”
Doc moved to help her out of her oversized armor, frowning. “What are you doing?”
Calico slipped her arms out of the vest and tossed her hair, straightening her jacket uniform as she fastened it up the front.
“I'm going after him,” she declared, sliding her legs into the hole. “He's the target.”
“Uh-uh,” Doc said, holding the armored vest and shaking his head. “You're not going down there by yourself.”
“You're welcome to join me,” Calico said, half serious, half jesting. “But you may have to lose a little weight first.” She grinned nervously. “No offense.”
Doc looked across at Helen. The co-leader looked down at the girl and gave her a nod.
“Don’t let him get away.”
Calico saluted Helen. “Roger.”
Doc hissed something under his breath and picked up Calico's Casper, ejecting the spent typewriter clip and snapping in a fresh one. He dropped the submachine gun into the girl's lap and pulled back, reluctantly.
“Be careful,” he said, guardedly. “As the newest member, you’re not allowed to die.”
Calico hesitated, a specter of emotion crossing her brow.
“You know,” she said, smiling. “You sound like my brother.”
Doc blinked, lost. The medic suddenly looked extremely torn about letting the girl go. Like it was his responsibility. Then he offered a forced grin.
“Go get him, Scout.”
Calico glanced one last time at Helen, charged the first round for her SMG, and ducked into the cramped enclosure, scooting along stiffly. When her shuffling heels were out of sight, Doc stood and followed the sounds of her progress for several steps. Soon enough, though, neither commando could make out the muffled crawling of the translator squirming through the tunnel under the floor. Doc looked across at Helen, standing amidst the bodies.
“What do we do now?”
Helen switched the power off her assault rifle and slung it across her back, tightening the strap so it wouldn't swing.
“Now, I suppose we wait.”
Doc arched an eyebrow, disbelieving. “Wait?”
Helen nodded. “It’s up to Calico now.”
Doc, in spite of himself, showed his concern, shifting nervously. “Aww...”
“Relax,” Helen assured, calmly. “She's an Elite Stellar Commando.”
Doc looked up, surprised. Then he nodded, eyes brightening as he stared at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she is, huh?”
“That doesn't make the waiting any less agonizing, though, does it?” Helen said with a sigh.
Down the corridor, behind the sealed pressure door, a loud thud sounded as a battering ram struck. Furious Yew troopers screamed to break through the sealed door. Helen looked across at Doc and smiled.
“Then again, I've heard the best thing to counteract waiting, is action.”
Doc nodded his understanding. “It'll buy Calico some time.” The medic stooped, picked up his weapon, and slid a fresh clip in. “Let's do it.”
The door banged again as the battering ram bent the pressure door inwards with a magnetic shove. Helen grinned wryly, sidestepping away and waving Doc toward her.
“Alright,” she said, playfully. “Let's give these guys something to chase.”
The two commandos turned and ran as the pressure door blasted out of its housing with a piercing metallic shriek.
***
Captain Rotan grimaced as his war helm reflected the display of a thousand guns, firepower he'd gravely underestimated. Three Human cruisers hounded him mercilessly, pounding away with heavy artillery from a distance, forcing him to direct his countermeasures away from the dozens of smaller vessels sinking their teeth into his hindquarters. The starscape, once so clear and omnipotent, was blotted from his sight as hundreds of shell bursts threatened to blind his battle vision. Swarms of small explosive harpoon torps swamped his point-defense guns, allowing critical heavy ship-killing torpedoes to break through and slam against his hull, breaking away his armor in chunks. Blaster batteries wailed away in all directions, mostly missing at the extreme close range but scoring more and more direct hits with every passing second, sending the ancient Grade-C ships into a flaming oblivion.
And yet they just! Would! Not! DIE!
This savage attack had his prided Nightmare dreadcraft spinning for its life, rotating its heavy armor and dropping voltage on the cursed little ships that badgered it. And they were suffering, for sure. There wasn't a ship amongst them that had the armor to take more than a few hits from the Saperiah's main guns. Rotan could have accepted a close-fought battle with the Humans’ decidedly improved Grade-B battle group. He could have understood withdrawing in the face of their suddenly activated orbital defense platforms.
But this wasn't fair!
Even the station-sized dreadcraft couldn't handle this level of overwhelming odds! There was fighting, and then there was just trying to keep one's head above water. The simple, sheer amount of incoming fire was causing his defense systems to burn out trying to keep up! Didn't these ships ever run out of ammo? Didn't they need to reload!? How could they push this attack so hard? He thought at the very least he'd find relief from the unarmed transports and tugs. But he'd been wrong! Transports were joining the fray and blocking his shots or shielding the warships! Tugs were latching onto his hull like leeches and ruining his targe
ting and evasion attempts! He'd been outright rammed by at least two fuel ships, knocking out entire grids of his defensive matrix in the resulting explosions!
He was becoming genuinely worried.
“Warmaster,” he said, calling the attention of his weapons director. “What's our status?”
The weapons director didn't turn around, focusing on his war helm. “We are at eighty-percent combat efficiency, Captain Rotan. Main batteries holding, defense grid breached but still functioning. Main reactor at full capacity.”
The Stelkan captain hissed through his beak, scanning the ravaged war helm as another blast lit up the starline. He watched hopefully for the sign of a fleet emerging from hyperspace, but found nothing.
Where the vahk is Sub-Admiral Kotu?
Rotan kept trying to reassure himself. He still had the most powerful ship, and most dangerous weaponry, in the system.
He would use it.
“Warmaster,” he called again. “Shut down our failsafes and increase our firepower beyond safety protocols. We may die today, but we're going to take everyone with us. Understood?”
The expansive bridge crew gave up a war cry in agreement. Rotan was about to make his next command when his console squeaked. He looked down, surprised. His communicator glowed, expectantly.
Incoming message? He thought, baffled. From the station?
His communication's operator pushed back from his helm. “Wark? Captain Rotan, we're being... beamed. Incoming transmission from the station.”
Rotan paused as his crew prepared the Saperiah for her lethal rampage. He scanned the source of the awaiting message as he called it up, scowling. The message was being routed through the Celestial Wind, as Admiral Merthal had instructed. The Saperiah was receiving all communications as the temporary flagship. But... it was a message. Not a direct communication. Yet it bore the stamp of a priority communicate.
Rotan, wondering what was so important, opened the file. His console purred for a moment as it absorbed the data and finally displayed it for him to see. He stared, baffled, as he read the four-word message. A message that... made no sense.
Deus Ex Machina
-Daytana
Rotan puzzled, scanning the message for more sensible words. It seemed unlikely, but perhaps the computer had mis-translated. He did not know the meaning of this-
His war helm broke into a fit of static.
One of the operators cursed and banged his console, and the static cleared away. Then, a few seconds later, it returned, heavier than before. Rotan saw his personal console struggle under the weight of some unseen problem. Then the other consoles started to show signs of strain as something invisible choked the life from their stations. The war helm became a blizzard of static as the surrounding lights flickered. Rotan had never seen them do that before. Finally, one of the crew shouted.
“I've lost sensor data on the fifth spoke!”
“Weapons disruption to grid seven!”
“My station's gone dark! I cannot raise anything!”
The warmaster shot to his feet. “Captain! Weapons across the mantle are reporting malfunctions! Power grids are collapsing! Sensor data is disrupted! We've been infected!”
Rotan could only stare in silent, furious horror as his ship steadily destroyed itself from within, while the Humans continued to destroy her from without. His claws trembled with frustrated rage.
This was not fair.
Chapter 61
Calico crawled along more quickly as the sounds of the feet overhead grew louder. With her Casper in front of her, it was difficult to see just where she was going, especially under the floor. None-the-less, she pressed forward, keeping her breathing steady and fighting a feeling of claustrophobia.
The speaker reached forward with her free hand to pull herself along and felt her fingers touch something wet. She squinted to filter out the darkness and could just make out the color of Stelkan blood on her fingertips. Calico rubbed her fingers together to rid herself of the sensation and dragged herself forward, now wearing on her hand evidence that the Admiral was definitely somewhere ahead of her.
At that point, there was virtually no light at all, and Calico was forced to advance blindly. She pushed herself forward with her legs while feeling ahead with her hand, trying to keep her Casper centered in case she needed to shoot. It was only a second later that it occurred to her that Caspers came standard these days with flashlights built into the fore grips. She mentally slapped herself and was about to activate the flashlight when a thought struck her. If she activated it now, and the Admiral was ahead of her, it would warn him that he had a pursuer. After thinking for a moment, Calico turned down the flashlight approach in favor of stealth, until she reached a more open area. At that point, she would re-consider using a flashlight.
She did use another option. She’d almost forgotten in the excitement of regrouping with the others, but she still had the Sktish biolight Jonathan had given her. That light wasn’t so harsh as a flashlight beam, but at least she would see where she was going. Calico wriggled around in the crawlspace until she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out the badge-sized biolight. She fumbled around with it until she figured out which way was which, then stuck it to her breast pocket over her heart.
The Sktish tech shuddered on, casting the crawlspace into grizzly green shadows. Darkness pulsed incrementally and Calico’s heartbeat. Calico groaned and squinted ahead. It wasn’t much better. Maybe an organic component needed rest, or something had happened to damage it. But it was better than nothing. The young speaker pressed on, trying to make up her lost time.
About a minute later, Calico felt the pipes branch off in different directions, and soon after that, the floor slanted downwards at a slight angle. There were no more hollow footfalls right over her head, so she thought maybe she'd passed under a wall into the mechanical sections of the station. Sensing that she was reaching a wider area, Calico moved ahead with renewed eagerness.
Suddenly the floor wasn’t there.
Calico, knowing what she’d just gotten into, scrambled for a handhold and, in the heat of the moment, let go of her Casper to catch herself.
“Vahk!” she hissed, uttering a Yew curse as she listened to her weapon clatter down the shaft, making plenty of noise all the while. At last, the weapon came to a rest on something about twenty feet down. Calico hesitated, listening for any sounds that would indicate she’d been discovered. There was nothing.
Calico took a moment to feel her surroundings before making her next move, biolight fluttering. She had about three feet of height, because of the downward slant, and about five feet of width. After checking out the shaft she’d lost her weapon to, Calico determined that it was about three by three feet wide. As she felt, Calico’s hand slid into another wet patch. More Stelkan blood. She was still close.
There was enough space so that she could go down and retrieve her Casper by pressing her shoulders to the wall and slowly lowering herself down with her legs pressed against the opposite side. She could climb back up afterwards. Calico didn’t know what she’d say if she returned to the other ESC’s without her weapon. Dropping her Casper had been embarrassing enough.
Calico pulled herself out from between the pipes and turned herself sideways, sliding into the shaft legs first. Once she had solid footing on the opposite wall of the shaft, Calico slowly lowered herself down, taking care to not make noise in case the Admiral was still nearby. Calico made slow progress down the shaft, taking it one foot at a time. When she was about halfway, Calico could almost make out the outline of her submachine gun on what appeared to be a ventilation duct of some sort. Calico lowered herself another few feet and grimaced slightly, reaching down to grab it.
WHAM!
The girl felt her senses dull as the Stelkan Admiral landed on her from a twenty-foot drop. Calico's head blurred, she lost her footing and fell the remaining distance onto the duct, which couldn’t hold up under the blow and crashed open, dumping Cali
co and her lost Casper onto the unseen floor, another ten feet below.
Calico, bleeding from the back of her head where the Stelkan had hit hardest, smashed into the deck. She screamed as pain surged through her hip where she landed, but then she clenched her teeth and pulled her legs in, pushing back against the pain. She coughed several times as her breath got caught in her throat. She quickly pushed herself to her knees, fighting dizziness. Once she was on her knees, the dizziness started to fade.
The biolight caught a shadow overhead.
There was a heavy burst of air as the Admiral fell into the room, beating his strong wings once to cushion his landing. Calico unsteadily rose to her feet and spun to meet the alien, but couldn’t see the Admiral’s wings sweeping around in the darkness.
The Stelkan’s wing cracked into Calico’s head with surprising force, just like the last blow. Calico stumbled backwards through the darkness, wondering just how a ninety-pound alien could put such force into a blow. She came up with her hands in a guarded position. The Stelkan admiral was standing several feet away.
With Calico’s biolight in his hand.
The Speaker blinked, then looked down and reached for the badge that was no longer there. She looked back up in horror. The Admiral’s face was cold as steel, but his raptorian eyes were deadly. The talons extended and closed over the pulsing light badge, squeezing. Calico heard a shrill screech as some alien component in the biolight suffered catastrophic damage, and suddenly with a thick crunch, the light went out, ushering in the darkness.
This time, Calico listened for the rustle of the Stelkan’s wings as he came in for another strike. Her arms snapped up, blindly protecting the sides of her head as she'd done when she'd brawled with her brothers as a child. The wing thudded against her right side, rocking her back on the balls of her feet. Then the second wing struck her in the ribs on her left side. She staggered, and came back to her guard. Instinctively, she threw a punch in desperation, but felt nothing but air.
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 67