It Ain't Over... (Cole & Srexx Book 1)

by Robert M Kerns

  “Okay, if that’s your choice…” Cole said.

  Cole accessed his implant, instructing it to give his HUD a thermal overlay. His field of view changing to display heat sources, Cole saw a mass of heat just around the corner where the first man hid. Cole put the reticle of the rotary cannon over the densest mass of heat and pressed the activation stud with his right thumb. Cole heard the whine of the rotary cannon powering up and deactivated his external microphone just in time.

  The rotary cannon fired twelve projectiles before Cole released the firing stud. The first projectile ripped a super-heated hole through the bulkhead, and the eleven successive projectiles shredded the man who’d seen Cole and his five compatriots also hiding in the cross-corridor. Cole walked to the intersection; took one look at the gore covering the bulkheads, decking, and ceiling; and made a mental note to thank Srexx for designing his armor with a self-contained air supply. Cole turned and double-timed it back to the boarding party, resuming ultimate rear guard.

  Another group attempted an ambush just shy of half-way to the airlock. This group used civilian-grade body armor in addition to their laser rifles, so instead of one shot from the boarding party taking a person out of the fight, the same result now required two—or sometimes even three—shots…except for Cole’s rotary cannon. Not even top-of-the-line civilian-grade body armor could stop a hail of five-centimeters-long, two-millimeter rods moving over three-thousand meters per second. Especially rods made of tungsten with the leading edge molded for enhanced penetration.

  From the ambush on, the trip was a running fire fight, as more and more criminals arrived on the scene. By the time the boarding party and the last group of slaves neared the maintenance airlock, several of the boarding party were limping, and two—though alive—were carried by compatriots. There were no deaths among the boarding party personnel, but the slaves carried five of their number for later burial.

  The leading elements of the group were passing through the maintenance airlock when the life-sign sensors in Cole’s armor lit up. Over three-hundred individuals were incoming. Five grenades and a veritable wall of laser fire came at Cole as he reached the manual hatch that had converted the maintenance-airlock corridor into a storage space.

  “Everybody, get to the ship. I’ve got this,” Cole broadcasted to the group channel as he pressed the activator stud on the rotary cannon and held it, sweeping the rotary cannon from side to side as he watched the ‘Rounds Remaining’ value in his HUD drop faster than Cole could process.

  The five grenades detonated almost at Cole’s feet, but they were fragmentation grenades. The combined shockwave staggered Cole as he backed toward the hatch, but aside from destroying the rear-view pop-up camera, they were ineffective…against Cole. The grenades’ shockwave did affect the hatch, however, triggering an ancient blast sensor in the otherwise-manual hatch. The hatch slammed closed behind Cole, but he didn’t hear or feel it over the explosion of the grenades.

  Five seconds passed as Cole backed toward the now-closed hatch, and the oncoming numbers were down to a mere hundred-plus. The cannon’s ammunition dwindling, Cole tried to step backward through the hatch, but he hit solid material whether he moved left or right. His patience long since spent, Cole took ten steps forward and moved as fast as he could toward the hatch. His guy had said it wouldn’t stand up to a toddler, so Cole decided to check the man’s statement for hyperbole.

  Cole struck a solid surface with a bone-jarring concussion and continued pushing through with his feet. Cole’s crewman proved to be correct, and the joins where the criminals secured the hatch coaming to the surrounding bulkheads gave way, the hatch collapsing with a concussion that Cole felt through his armor. The hatch coaming was thick enough that Cole had to lean forward and crouch as much as he could in the armor, and his gait through across the collapsed hatch resembled a crab-walk.

  The rotary cannon ran dry just as Cole was halfway across the hatch coaming. Cole almost dropped the rotary cannon, but at the last second, he remembered the cables and ammo tube connecting the cannon to the ammunition pack. Far up the corridor, a lone, brave soul stepped out to see if Cole truly was out of ammo. When no rounds shredded him, he accepted something from a fighting companion out of view. Cole stepped off the hatch coaming and resumed his normal posture, instructing his implant to display an enhanced image in his HUD. Cole’s instruction to his implant was transmitted just in time for him to see the lone individual in the corridor lift the rocket launcher to his shoulder and fire.

  Between the distance to the airlock and the force-fields creating the hard seal beyond, safety aboard the ship was only thirty meters away…so close and yet so far. Cole knew he could get closer to the ship if he turned and sprinted, but most heavy armor was weakest on the back. Beyond that, he was afraid people were congregating around the suit locker, which would be within the blast radius if he actually made it to the ship. Cole saw fire erupt from the back of the rocket launcher, and he made his decision.

  “Incoming rocket! Clear the airlock and suit locker!” Cole broadcast across the group channel as he assumed a more stable stance and locked the armor’s servos at the hips, knees, and ankles. Srexx told him the armor only looked like Aurelian Commonwealth heavy armor but was far superior. It was time to test the AI’s claim.

  Cole took the rocket right in the center of the armor’s chest-plate. The armor protected his ears from what he was sure was a deafening blast, and the last thing Cole knew, he was flying backward.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bridge, Battle-Carrier Haven

  Iota Ceti System

  15 July 2999

  “Cole is down! Repeat: Cole is down! Emergency medical support to the port airlock! Three of you, let’s get back in there and hold them off while we get Cole aboard the ship!”

  Hearing those words broadcast over the bridge’s speakers drove a cold spike of fear through Sasha’s heart, and if she’d taken a moment to consider that, she might have asked herself why. She was out of the command chair and halfway to the port-side hatch before she even thought about it, and it was only her realization she hadn’t left someone in command that made her stop as the hatch irised open and turn. Every pair of eyes on the bridge—all four of them—stared back at her.

  “Mazzi,” Sasha said, “you have the conn.”

  Without waiting for any acknowledgement, Sasha pivoted on her heel and left the bridge.

  Sasha stepped out of the transit shaft onto Deck Two and heard the most horrendous metal-on-metal screeching, punctuated by laser fire…and it sounded like it was coming from the airlock. She headed to the airlock and, stepping around the corner, saw ten people dragging an inert suit of power armor through the second airlock. Four people clustered around the outer hatch of the maintenance airlock—two low and two high—exchanging laser fire with the station’s criminal occupants deeper into the deck.

  A furred hand reached out from Sasha’s left and pulled her out of the line of fire, just as three laser beams passed through her former position and struck the bulkhead of the corridor behind her. Whatever material was used in the ship’s construction, it showed not a mark from all the laser fire it had taken in the last few minutes. Sasha turned and saw Yeleth holding her arm, she and Wixil having already vacated their suits.

  “Thanks,” Sasha said with a nod.

  Yeleth nodded in return. “You are welcome, and I didn’t want the promotion.”

  Sasha barked a harsh laugh before asking, “What happens if you do want the promotion?”

  “I’d ask Cole to give you your own ship,” Yeleth replied. “Besides, Ship’s Purser is far too much fun.”

  “We’ve got him inside!” one of the crew dragging the heavy armor shouted to the people holding the outer hatch.

  Sasha leaned out long enough to spy the rotary cannon at the end of its connections lying on the force-field that served as a deck. She pointed to it, asking, “Is the cannon still operational?”

  “I doubt the fus
ion bomb would ruin it,” the spacer said, “let alone some bush-league rocket. That there’s good Solar Republic tech.”

  “Then take two people and get it through the airlock. We’re not leaving it behind, either,” Sasha replied.

  Two of the ten who had dragged the armor past the inner hatch of the airlock dashed back and heaved the cannon up to their shoulders. One laser beam from the station struck each person, but they powered through bringing the cannon inside the inner hatch.

  “Okay, people, fall back!” Sasha shouted. “It’s time to leave!”

  The four crew holding the outer hatch of the station’s maintenance airlock stepped away and began backing toward the ship, firing all the while. When one’s charge pack ran dry, they rotated positions with someone to keep a steady barrage of covering fire going back into the station.

  The moment the final crewperson dove through the ship’s airlock, Sasha keyed commands into the panel that irised both hatches of the airlock closed. Then, she tapped the comms control, saying, “Sasha to Bridge.”

  The speakers overhead chirped before broadcasting, “Bridge, Mazzi here.”

  “Get us out of here, Mazzi. We’ve achieved our objective.”

  “How’s Cole?”

  Just then, Talia ran up, hauling a gurney loaded down with all kinds of gear. She came from the direction of the cargo transit shaft.

  “Talia just arrived, and we still have to get him out of the armor. I’ll update you once we know more. Get us moving toward the system’s periphery.”

  “Aye, ma’am. Consider it done. Will there be anything else?”

  “No, but thanks, Mazzi. Sasha out.”

  The speakers chirped once more signifying the comms channel ended.

  Up on the bridge, Mazzi gave the order to undock from the station. The spacer dutifully tapped that control on the helm station, causing the docking force-fields between the station and the ship to disappear. Since Cole had issued the maintenance override on the two hatches of the airlock, those hatches remained open, and a decompression of the station ensued. All those who had been rushing the airlock to assault the ship found themselves dancing with the stars sans suit as alerts and klaxons blared all over the station.

  “Whew…what a workout,” Talia said as she looked down on Cole’s charred armor. “Soosh, we’ve gotta get more medical people. My response time just now was way too slow.”

  “I know, Tallie.” Sasha stared at the armor, and the icy claws of fear tried to encircle her heart once more. She accessed her implant and chose ‘Comms’ from the radial menu. There, she chose ‘Srexxilan.’

  * Yes, Sasha? *

  * How do we get the armor off Cole? He could die in there. *

  * If he survived the initial blast, it is unlikely that he is in a dying state. I built significant medical subsystems into the armor. However, those systems only work if the armor’s primary computer core is online. These are the steps you must follow… *

  Sasha followed Srexx’s instructions to the letter, and soon, they had the armor open. The good news was that the blast had not penetrated the armor. The bad news was that he’d been bounced around inside the armor by the concussion, and there was massive, ugly bruising everywhere Sasha could see flesh.

  Talia waved a medical scanner over Cole and sighed with relief. “No neck or spinal injuries, and he’s breathing. It’s safe to move him onto the gurney.”

  Sasha watched with Wixil and Yeleth as several volunteers lifted Cole out of the armor and placed him on the gurney. Talia moved around the gurney after they’d stepped back and secured him to it.

  Talia quickly scanned those standing around and said, “Come with me. I’ll need your help to get him off the gurney.”

  Sasha turned to Yeleth, saying, “I know you want to go with them to the hospital deck, but there are almost seven hundred people on the flight deck who—I’m sure—are frightened and bewildered. I’d like you to take a couple people and introduce yourself. Once you’ve said hello and done what you can to calm them, see what our food and environmental situation is. Aw, nuts…those people will need to visit the head, too. One thing at a time, Soosh…for now, just introduce yourself and make sure they know they’re not still slaves. I’ll set course for the closest world where we can get a decent re-supply.”

  “Who is this ‘Soosh?’” Yeleth asked.

  Sasha smiled. “When Talia was little and just learning to talk, my name came out ‘Soosh’ when she tried to say it, so it’s kind of a family nickname.”

  “Ah. I shall see to the task at once.” Yeleth nodded once to Sasha before taking Wixil and disappearing around the corner.

  Sasha watched the three people lug the rotary cannon through the interior hatch of the airlock. Setting it down on the deck as gently as they could, all three of them leaned back against the bulkhead and wiped the sweat from their brows. Cole’s heavy armor made moving that thing look like no effort at all, but light it was not.

  Sasha accessed her implant and called the bridge, routing it through the ship.

  “Bridge, Mazzi here.”

  “I’m on my way back to the bridge.”

  “How’s Cole, ma’am?”

  “He’s breathing and bruised. Talia’s scanner found no injuries that made moving him out of the armor a risk.”

  “Thank goodness for small favors, then. Anything else, ma’am?”

  Sasha liked how Mazzi’s voice followed her from bulkhead speaker to bulkhead speaker as she walked back to the transit shaft. She said, “No. I’m almost to the transit shaft, so I’ll be down there shortly.”

  “Roger that, ma’am. Bridge out.”

  Sasha stepped onto the bridge and found Mazzi sitting at the helm. Sasha smiled at that as she walked over and sat in the command chair.

  “I have the conn,” Sasha announced to the bridge.

  “XO has the conn,” Mazzi replied.

  “What’s our status?”

  Mazzi didn’t take her eyes off the helm station as she said, “We are leaving the station at ‘dead slow,’ ma’am. Full stealth systems are active, and there are no indications we’ve been discovered. At our present speed, we are a little over forty-three hours from the system periphery, and I’ve chosen a point well beyond any jump gate or observed traffic patterns.”

  “Anyone know of a system close to here where we could resupply?” Sasha asked.

  “Caernarvon,” Jennings said from the comms station, and Sasha swiveled to face him. He continued, “It’s a major trans-shipping head for this region of space. Most of the trade flowing—or at least that used to flow—between the Solars and the Commonwealth passed through Caernarvon. Because it’s so close to so many systems with less than trustworthy residents, it’s fortified like you wouldn’t believe. That’s why it’s called ‘Caernarvon,’ after an ancient castle in Great Britain on Old Earth. I don’t know if anyone remembers what the system was first named, but I’m sure it’s in some archive somewhere. Matter of fact, I think the Solars keep a small task force stationed there.”

  “Can you get me an estimated travel time, Mazzi?” Sasha asked as she swiveled back around to face forward.

  After a short time, Mazzi said, “The computer calculates twelve days, six hours, and change, ma’am.”

  Sasha nodded, thinking. Until she had a report from Yeleth what their food situation was, there was no point in picking a destination. At last, she nodded again.

  “Don’t lock it in, but keep it on the screen. If we have food for everyone now aboard across twelve days, that’s where we’ll go.”

  First, Cole knew he was alive. Air brushing his face served as a decent indicator for that. Cole’s progression toward relief/celebration/satisfaction he had survived was short-lived. Following closely on the heels of awareness came a bone-marrow-deep, full-body ache unlike anything Cole could ever remember experiencing in his life. It wasn’t pain. He was…sore. His entire body from the hair follicles on his head down to the cuticle beds in his toes ached with th
e soreness only a wearying injury can produce.

  Cole opened his eyes. The surroundings he could see without moving his head looked very similar to the treatment room he’d awoken in after Srexx had almost killed him. A read-out he couldn’t quite see was attached to the bulkhead about thirty centimeters above his head. The bulkheads he could see were the same silvery-white color the entire internal space of the ship boasted, and to top it all off, the entire space was quiet.

  Just as Cole was about to try pushing himself into a sitting position, the treatment room hatch irised open to admit Talia Thyrray, his acting Chief Medical Officer. A line from ancient cartoons he’d watched with his grandfather swam to the surface of his mind, and Cole grinned.

  “Hey…what’s up, Doc?”

  If Talia caught the reference, she didn’t show it. In fact, she did not seem amused at all. She walked over to stand beside his waist, looking down at him with a blank, unemotional expression. Whispers of worry and doubt slunk around the back of Cole’s mind the longer Talia remained silent. After almost three minutes of that blank expression, Cole wondered just what was wrong that she couldn’t think of how to tell him, and he started with the usual suspects. Nope…not toes. He could wiggle his toes. He would not try moving his legs, because he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten to him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t flex his fingers out of her line of sight. Nope…not fingers. Cole didn’t think there was anything connected to him controlling or ensuring his breathing, but if local numbing agents had been applied, he might not know.

  At long last, Cole just couldn’t take it anymore. He let out an exasperated sigh and said, “Okay…give. What’s so wrong you’re just standing there?”

  Talia broke into a huge grin. “Absolutely nothing at all. Sasha just bet me fifty credits I couldn’t freak you out. You probably feel sore all over…and with good reason. Even though there were no serious injuries, the visual representation of the med-scan I performed—plus the bruising all over your body—makes me think you bounced around inside that armor like beans in a set of maracas. You are beyond lucky that you have no long-term injuries, and you’re on light duty for the next two weeks, pending medical review. No wild piloting, no rescue missions, no ‘Lone Marine’ craziness. Understand?”