Edge of Solace (A Star Too Far)

by Casey Calouette

  The icons of the newcomers blinked on the screen. Ominous in the distance. Velocity readings slowly rose. They were moving into the system.

  “Ma’am I’m going manual, after our next barrage we may have a window with the railguns,” William said as he swapped his display for a visual.

  “Absolutely not,” Captain Khan said.

  “Trust me, ma’am, I can make this shot. I’ve done it before.”

  “No!”

  William shook his head in disbelief. “Ma’am, there is no issue.”

  The missile batteries fired. The UC ordnance surged at the Sa’Ami cruiser and encountered another wall of nickel slugs. This time the interception wasn’t perfect—the Sa’Ami didn’t have enough time to counter them all.

  Explosions burst against the nose of the cruiser in scarlet streams. The grav field was visibly scarred as the hull glowed beneath it with the energy of billions of nanites repairing it.

  William saw his opening and trained the crosshairs onto the nanite glow. He slammed a hand down and engaged the railguns. At the same moment a dull thud pushed against his side and a thunderclap echoed through the room.

  He felt odd. Like a searing anvil slammed into him. He slid a hand down and felt warm, sticky, wet. His eyes held disbelief as he scanned to the side. His first thought was the Sa’Ami had struck hard.

  Across the bridge Captain Khan held her sidearm out. A thin tendril of smoke drifted upwards from the barrel. Behind her alarms blared as another missile barrage was incoming.

  He tried to speak but only a gurgle and a tightness in his chest rose forth. He slumped to the side of the desk and looked wide eyed at the Captain. Numb fingers clutched at the wound and pressed tightly.

  “Marine!” Captain Khan yelled.

  Avi and the other Marine had stormed onto the bridge with weapons raised when the gunshot rang out. The maimed Avi knelt next to William and tore open the nanite medical patch. “Hold on, Mr. Grace.”

  The Malta passed behind the Sa’Ami cruiser as it continued its path. The ships kept nose-to-nose like a matador squaring up with a bull. In the moment where both ships were closest the mass driver batteries gushed out projectiles of nickel and steel.

  Grav shields buckled and wounds were cut. Superheated plasma, green in color, expanded on the hull. Nanites countered and fought to repair the damage but the force was overwhelming.

  “Watch it now!” Captain Khan cried out. The display counted down. The next missile barrage was due in seconds. The two ships pulled apart as the Malta continued moving directly away from the icy rings of the gas giant.

  The countdown struck zero. All eyes were on the visual display. A small launch issued from one of the batteries of the cruiser. The full barrage had been muted by William’s shot.

  William glared at the Captain. He felt vindicated by his actions. Though he would have rather not gotten shot for the effort.

  Captain Khan rattled off orders. Damage reports came in quicker than she could respond. The Malta had been battered, holed in a few sections, and thoroughly outclassed.

  The nanites flowed deep and the bleeding stopped. It was as if a cool breeze was blowing against the caked blood. The bullet, luckily, was a frangible round and had shattered upon impact. If the round had been solid it would have pierced through his chest.

  “How long ’til blink?” Captain Khan asked.

  “Two minutes, ma’am,” Lebeau said in a shaky voice.

  The weapons cycled once more sending a barrage of missiles towards the cruiser as if to show that some fight was left.

  Captain Khan paged Marines that William didn’t know. Earth-born Marines. They arrived and stood near the Captain. Looks came from the trio as they stared down at William. His eyes unfocused and waves of painkillers washed over him.

  The Marines stood him up and guided him off the bridge. He willed Captain Khan to look back at him. Her eyes were focused down and below. He passed Avi. The young Marine gave a nod with hard eyes.

  The same group he ordered to battle stations were converging, under guard, before him. Fear. Pain. All looked proud, but none looked free.

  The ship smelled of burnt sugar. A haze of dust floated in the air like glassy motes. They passed a closed bulkhead with a vacuum alarm flashing. The center of the door was covered in baked paint.

  A Marine with a flat nose popped open a hatch and stood aside as the colony-born crew was herded inside. Inside was empty racks and magazines. The air tasted like metal and ozone.

  “We’ll be back with supplies later.”

  The hatch closed and dim service lights popped on.

  William didn’t recognize the room. “Where are we?”

  Reed raised his head and looked around. “Port side ammo storage for the mass drivers.”

  William nodded. Prisoners, he thought. His ribs were tender, but the pain felt detached. He tested the edges of the wound and felt the nanites firmed up like warm jelly.

  “Jeez XO, you should be dead,” Huron said. The Engineer stooped down and checked the wound.

  William gave the man a quick look and relaxed his head against the bulkhead. At least it didn’t smell like an old sock.

  Around him the same dozen people he rallied once before looked forlorn. Eyes cast down. Everyone was silent. The only sound was a hum from the grav drive as the ship moved on to destinations unknown.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Descent

  The wound ached and burned in a way that reminded him of Redmond. The painkillers in the nanite patch wore off long before the coagulants. The body would know by pain, as it was designed to, before it knew by bleeding. William didn’t much care—the throbbing was endless.

  Around him men and women, sailors and Marines, stood or sat. Faces were worn, battered, defeated. He felt it himself. Not only was the Malta mauled by a superior foe, but they too felt mauled.

  “Reed, c’mere,” William said through clenched teeth.

  The thin Mars-born Engineer scooted across the floor. “What’s up, XO?”

  “Help me up.”

  William stood with the Engineer supporting his good side. The tearing pain in his chest almost dropped him back to his knees. “Listen up.”

  Eyes, dim in the light, looked up.

  “When we’re let out, everyone follow orders. We didn’t do anything wrong. Remember that.” William stopped and looked around the room.

  “There will be an Admiral or a Commodore with the dropship, we’ll bring the issue up there and get this all sorted. Captain Khan is in the wrong.” He said it. She was wrong. It didn’t make him feel any better but heads nodded around him.

  “What’s going to happen?” a petty officer named Gomez asked.

  Reed spoke up. “The drive is pushing hard, and we’ve been blinking more often than we should.”

  “We’re heading into a gravity well. I’m assuming ahead of the Sa’Ami. Once we’re under the guns of the defense batteries, we’ll have some breathing room.”

  William hoped that’s what was happening. At least the Captain could order them onto the planet. The ship was in rough condition. He hadn’t seen all the damage reports but he’d seen enough to know the Malta needed time to refit. Time she didn’t have.

  “We didn’t do anything wrong,” a Marine pleaded.

  “No, we didn’t. Prejudice is something you can’t control.” He was afraid of this coming up. The last thing the ship needed was a rift between Earth born and colonists. He could see it happening, and hoped it wasn’t happening elsewhere.

  “Stay professional, keep your chins up, and do the right thing,” William said. The words of inspiration didn’t seem to carry far in the empty chamber.

  The door opened. A pack of armored Marines clustered outside with batons in hand. Captain Khan stood in the midst.

  “Out, you’re getting off my ship,” Captain Khan said.

  William staggered out with Reed on one arm.

  Zinkov stood on the edge of the Marines. He wasn’t wearing arm
or or carrying a weapon. He nodded to William.

  The group passed through the Malta before arriving at the cargo hold. The ship pulsed and hummed before becoming totally silent. Docking clamps thudded against the hull. The smell of battle was almost totally gone. The musty smell worked its way back in.

  William stood painfully.

  “Out,” Captain Khan said. She pointed a slender finger at the airlock hatch. The display showed atmosphere on the other side.

  “When the Admiral arrives, I will protest this,” William said.

  Captain Khan regarded him with dull eyes and said nothing.

  “Detail. Attention!” William ordered as best as his pain would allow.

  Captain Khan glared back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Zinkov nodded. A slight smile grew on his face. A proud smile.

  The ragged group came to attention and stood in a line. Huron was in the lead facing towards the hatch.

  “Captain, permission to disembark,” William said.

  “Get off my ship,” Captain Khan spat.

  “Mr. Huron, the hatch, please.”

  Huron stepped ahead and opened the hatch.

  “March!” William ordered.

  The column streamed into the umbilical. William locked eyes with Captain Khan as the group left the hold. When the last sailor passed through he gave a crisp salute and followed.

  He let out a sigh and floated through the zero-g heading to the docking station. Only upon arriving did he turn and look at the Malta.

  The ship was beaten like a rented mule. The edges were rough, burned, and jagged. Patches of nanite heat glowed on the open edges of armor. One of the railgun turrets was missing, with the other charred carbon black. She’d done well, just outclassed was all.

  “What now, Mr. Grace?” Reed asked.

  William watched the ship a moment more before replying. “We’ll get on the ground, not a damn thing we can do here.”

  The pair turned and began to walk away from the viewport when a flash illuminated the room around them. William hobbled to the viewport. A light expanded while diminishing in intensity.

  “The hell is that?” Reed asked.

  William knew. “They’re here. They waited to see if we had reinforcements before risking the jump to the planet. That was one of the orbital defense batteries detonating.”

  A mass driver turret on the Malta peppered nickel slugs out into the inky darkness.

  “Get into that elevator!” William shouted through the pain. Behind him the airlock alarm sounded. The Malta powered away trailing the umbilical. His heart dropped as he watched the Malta go to what was surely her doom.

  “C’mon, LT!” Reed yelled.

  William tore himself away and half ran across the deck. The smell of apples was strong enough to make his nose twitch.

  The elevator descended. All eyes watched out the slender viewports. Missiles flared away from the Malta and streamed into space. The Sa’Ami cruiser was lit up briefly as the missiles exploded around it.

  Then the Malta stopped. The side of the hull ripped open in a gout of flame that extinguished itself almost immediately. The once proud frigate carried on its course but nothing more issued forth.

  The elevator was silent as it dropped and the starship was lost in the darkness above.

  *

  Yamaguchi strained against the tight bindings of the armor and cursed whoever made it such a bastard. The cuffs were too sharp. The armor plate was unbalanced. The whole damn thing did nothing but irritate him.

  He recalled the lecture as he engaged each piece. Designed by the best Engineers, they said. K162 guidance throughout each step, they claimed. Gracelle edges and theory, they boasted. Bullshit, he thought. It was like an alien circus monkey doodled in crayon. It might have been smarter than an Earth circus monkey, but it was still a damn monkey.

  It took every bit of restraint to not shout and stomp. He wriggled and stretched and then the armor was on. He snatched a quick glance and saw the others having about as much fun as he was.

  “Move it!” Hoffman hollered as he stalked through the center of the billets. His armor was streaked gray and sooty green. A dull white skull was stenciled on the front of the face shield.

  For all of its faults, Yamaguchi did like how it looked.

  “LT,” a voice clicked in his ear. It was Sergeant Craig.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Elevator coming down, sir. Orbital defenses just went down.”

  “Ask the Malta what the hell is going on—is that dropship still headed here?” he asked. He shook his head and pressed the helmet on tight.

  “Drones prepped, LT, on your call,” Sergeant Bale said.

  “Not yet.”

  “Uh, LT. Malta said a dropship is moving in, a few cruisers. Uh, I think they’re engaged.”

  “Shit. Call the Ambassador, we need to clear the city.” Yamaguchi grabbed his kit and walked out into the yellow mud. Even the powered armor struggled in the thick muck.

  “Third squad, meet that elevator. Mcrager, I’m on my way.” Yamaguchi turned. The slow lope of the powered suit brought him out of the muck and down the lane.

  The quick trip passed through the edge of the Lebanese Maronite sector. How different, he thought. Loud colors, garish lights, almost flamboyant decorations. Crucifixes in the old style seemed to be everywhere with idols of saints he didn’t know.

  Comm chatter rattled in his ears as the squads prepped. He had a few hours yet. Everyone knew where to go and what to do. If he clucked around like a mother hen everyone would just get pissed and he knew it.

  “Mcrager, give me good news,” Yamaguchi said.

  The burly Sergeant lifted his head up from a console and blinked into focus. “LT! It’s rolling!”

  Yamaguchi glared at the Sergeant and stared into the cell. Inside a haze of nanites and raw materials coalesced into something he could use. Something that could help. A bright light arced through the fog showing a frame taking shape. “What is it?”

  “It’s a giant robot. Big legs, gorilla arms, and a head with a bull’s-eye painted on it so any asshole with a missile launcher can knock it down,” Mcrager replied.

  Yamaguchi grinned back. “You know this isn’t a drill, right?”

  “I’m banking on it, this is gonna be my baby.”

  “So what is it? Low-pro? VTOL? Klein?”

  Mcrager shrugged and drooped the corners of his mouth. “It’s a mystery!”

  “C’mon!” Yamaguchi flipped up the front of the helmet. Cool air rushed in, the smell of burnt metal tickled his nose. “Does it always smell like that?”

  “It’s like a cake baking,” Mcrager said simply.

  “What’s in the damn box?”

  “Spider.”

  “You’re rated for Spider?” Yamaguchi asked.

  “I’m rated for anything on the ground or the VTOL.” Mcrager turned and scanned the console. “Few more hours for the base model.”

  Yamaguchi felt better, and a bit surprised. He hadn’t known the Sergeant had new qualifications. Spider was the most challenging to pilot, a multi-legged cross between the failed mech program and a strider.

  He sighed when he thought of the striders. Those beautiful machines were coming with the rest of the squadron. A handful of the live-control drone infantry would make him feel better.

  Mcrager turned back to the console. He ran a hand over the stenciled letters of the CORE corporate logo as if soothing a tender child.

  “I’ll give you two some alone time. Let me know, Sergeant?”

  Mcrager raised a thumb up over his head. “You got it, LT!”

  The bravado melted away and the worry crept back in as he loped through the edge of town. Civilians were everywhere fleeing with, carts, loaders, and trucks. Anything that could haul something was moving. But people still sat on porches, huddled in the shadows, and watched.

  Before him the elevator dropped through the gauzy clouds and decelerated into the complex.


  “Hoffman, get me a status on the evac. I’m seeing people hanging out,” Yamaguchi called as he waved people along. They responded in loud words with wild gesticulations. The fact that he looked like a skull faced robot didn’t help.

  “Ambassador says not everyone will leave,” Hoffman said.

  “Not acceptable Sergeant.” Yamaguchi stopped. “Shit.”

  “LT, you better get over here,” Bale said.

  “What is it?”

  “The Malta is gone, sir.”

  Yamaguchi cranked up the pace and ran as fast as the power armor allowed.

  The complex was silent except for the whistling of the wind against the carbon black ribbon. The halls echoed loudly as Yamaguchi stomped through. The grips on the power armor adapted and grew nanite scale chameleon inspired grippers.

  The displaced crew of the Malta huddled together. A medic squatted over a Naval officer. The man was rigging a transfusion patch.

  Yamaguchi came to a halt in front of the group. He rocked forward slightly and caught himself. Anger rose again—the damn suits just weren’t tuned. “What the hell is going on?”

  William looked up to him with gaunt eyes. The side of his uniform was stained a brownish red. The uniform bent awkwardly as he struggled to stand.

  Yamaguchi keyed the visor to disengage and looked at the man before him. The others from the Malta all looked up to the Lieutenant.

  “Hello, Lieutenant,” William said. He stretched his back slightly. “Ooof.”

  “The hell happened to you, Lieutenant?” Yamaguchi asked. He realized it was a gunshot wound.

  “There was a difference of opinions.”

  Yamaguchi blinked. “Mutiny?”

  William smirked. “Not quite—the Captain segregated anyone that was born off Earth.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  William shook his head slowly. The fatigue grew as he stood. “No, unfortunately not. A Sa’Ami cruiser came in, the Malta engaged off the gas giant.” He paused and licked his lips. “It didn’t go well. We blinked out. About that time the Captain saw fit to tuck us away.”