by Don Foxe
The seven Marines completed the pinch. The Zenge, cornered, came out, firing everything they had. Unprotected, they died quickly. Just not quickly enough.
“Get corpsmen up here now!” the sergeant ordered. “Corporal Mitchell took too many hits to the same spot. Her EVA couldn’t stop the multiple taps. She has a chest wound.”
Coop felt sick. Gregory had command of this part of the mission, but the mission was his responsibility. He had one down, unconscious, and one with a critical wound. Two Marine corpsmen rushed by him and through the other Marines to get to the bleeding corporal. They were the best, so she had a chance.
“Those were some ugly aliens,” the Marine staff sergeant who had led the eight-man rifle team said. “They’re like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, only not cute, with alligator heads, and lots of teeth.”
Before Sky, or Storm could ask about Ninja Turtles, Coop said, “I’ll explain later. Keep on mission.”
“Hey, Sarge. How you know they were ugly aliens? How many aliens have you seen?” someone quipped.
“You may be right, Cortez,” the sergeant replied. “I’ve seen you, and these guys were kind of cute in comparison.”
“You have eight one deck up, inside the engineering control center. They are scattered around the room, most likely taking positions behind command consoles,” Storm informed them, breaking into the banter combat soldiers used to calm nerves.
This time Gregory called four Marines forward. A quick, quiet discussion, and each Marine pulled out two grenades from backpacks. He was not risking more lives taking the relatively compact command center.
They took stairs up one flight, and carefully exited into a short corridor. They found six doors; three, left, and three, right. Another, more substantial door, faced them from the end of the hallway. This was the entrance to the command center and engineering controls comb0-bridge.
Aware com-tac on the 109 would see his view via the live feed, Gregory spoke to Storm: “Storm, open this door in ten-seconds. Keep it open two-seconds, and then close it. Start count now.”
Exactly ten-seconds later the door opened. The Marines, two on each side, lobbed grenades in high, and low, and then hugged the walls on either side of the doorway. Laser fire erupted through the door, filling the open corridor. None of the other Marines or tag-alongs were hit. Everyone had taken cover in the crew cabins. Two-seconds, and the door closed, followed by eight explosions so close together it sounded like one big blast. The ship shuddered.
“No life-signs,” Storm said, as she opened the doors through the hacked operations computer.
The four grenade-throwers went through first, and one called, “It’s pretty gory in here, Colonel. We have green and red splatter, and body parts everywhere.”
Gregory turned to Sky, who gave him a simple nod. He knew Cooper had seen worse. Twenty-four joined the first four in the command center. Dr. Singh, and the two corpsmen were at the LBJ, caring for one Marine, and saving the other.
“There is a lift, and two stairwells which will take you to the top deck,” Storm told them. “There is also a lift from the hangar to the hallway outside of the cells, but I have it locked off. One stairwell goes to the cold storage area, and one to a hallway which connects the storage lockers. Beyond the storage are the cells. I read two low-heat lifeforms outside of the cell door. Lifeforms inside show warm.”
“We’re missing two more,” Gregory said.
“Probably in the cold-storage area,” Storm replied. “They are cold-blooded, and in that area the scans cannot pick them out.”
Gregory sent eight Marines up the stairwell to the cold room, and eight up the stairs to the rear hallway. Any more and they would crowd instead of compliment each other.
The first group hit the door to the cold storage area firing blind. They quick entered, and began covering angles. Two Zenge were crouched behind metal tables, which deflected the laser fire.
The Zenge did not have laser guns. They had knives and meat cutters. They killed two Marines before the six left could put them down.
The second group came out into the rear hallway. They formed a phalanx, facing toward the door which separated the storage rooms from the cells. The two Zenge there had apparently been trying to force the door open. They turned, faced the Marines, and then stuck the barrels of their laser pistols under their extended jaws and fired.
“Colonel Gregory, the last two Zenge committed suicide,” the Lt. in charge of the squad informed his commander.
Gregory turned to Cooper, and asked, “You realize what that means?”
Cooper nodded. “I do, and we’ll discuss it later. Stay on mission.”
“Gregory to Lt. Simpson, when Storm opens that door, sweep the room, but do not fire unless fired upon. Storm, door please.”
As the door unlocked, he spoke again. “Dr. Singh, you, and your people, can take the lift up to the cells. Storm, release the hangar lift.”
The six Marines in the first squad took the bodies of their fallen to the shuttle. The remaining Marines, Coop, and Sky stepped over the headless Zenge. Singh, having stabilized Mitchell, and a corpsmen, joined second squad in the cell block.
The Marines lined the right bulkhead wall, facing a row of cells against the left wall. Inside those cells a dozen species, sentient and not, stared, but did not move. Most sat, or were sprawled on the cell floors, too weak to move.
Cooper directed Sky. “You, Anton, and I have translator rings. Some of these captives will recognize you as Fellen, but will have no idea about Anton or me. Walk along, talk with the ones you can, but do not, I repeat, do not get within arms reach of any cell. You have no idea what these people have experienced, or how they will react.”
Sky slowly walked the cell block. She stopped, and held short conversations six times. Gregory, Cooper, and those aboard the 109’s command bridge could hear the conversations, but made no comments. For the most part, they were sad to hear. Painful. Hopeful.
Sky returned, and spoke to Cooper and Gregory. “The first cell is for, what you would call, livestock. Eleven animals bred for milk, skins, or meat. The following eight cells hold people from eight separate planets. No Fellen, and no Osperantue. I spoke with six, as you heard. Two species I did not recognize. The last eight cells hold wild animals. Seven are not particularly dangerous. If they have the strength, they might bite or claw you, but none are hunters. The last cell has two Carvide. They are pack hunters from a planet in the Testerray system, where only animals live. Some of the other animals are from the same planet, I think. I’ve only seen pictures and heard stories.”
“Captain Cooper, we have a problem,” Kennedy’s voice sounded urgent, if not exactly upset. “The Zenge on the second cargo ship initiated a self-destruct sequence. It is not system based. Storm cannot stop it.”
“Time?” Cooper asked.
“I do not understand Zenge, but based on what I am reading, and what I can guess from the count thus far, I would estimate more than eight, and less than ten minutes. Captain, that cargo vessel has armament stored on board, including torpedoes. When it goes, the combination of the engines, weapons, and the implosion when the hull breaches, will mean a shockwave which could destroy the ship you are on.”
“Storm, can you start the engines from there, and get this ship moving?”
“Engines are cycling to come on line. You’ll start moving away from the second ship, but not soon enough to get far enough away. The shockwave will go well beyond 40,000 miles, while you will be less than 10,000-miles distant.”
Coop said, “Genna, protect my crew. Gregory, your Marines need to find something to hold onto, and hold onto it. Sky, warned the people in the cells to hunker down. Storm, turn on the other ship’s engines, and try sending it in the opposite direction. Every extra mile we get could make the difference.”
“What about the captives on the other ship?” Sky whispered the question.
“Not a thing anyone can do now,” he replied.
Worrying a
bout leaving one life behind to begin another seemed shallow now. In a couple of minutes, everyone aboard both cargo ships might leave everything behind.
Chapter 46
Kennedy sounded the klaxon, and announced all hands needed to brace for impact.
Genna, at the pilot’s console, began moving the ship.
Lt. Adams, at the navigation console, looked down, looked up at Genna, looked down again, and then said, “Excuse me Counselor Bouvier, but it appears we are moving toward the cargo ship, not away.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Genna said. In order for everyone to hear, Genna said aloud, “Kennedy, I’m going to place the 109 between the cargo ship about to self-destruct, and the one with our people on board. Is there a section of the 109 where the sonic force field is strongest?”
As she maneuvered the ship, and waited for Kennedy’s response, Genna noted the Fellen, Storm, left the communications station, and literally dove beneath the operations console.
“The sonic forcefield is uniform,” Kennedy replied. “But once you position the ship between the two cargo vessels, you can place the engine in neutral and send power levels up to reverberate at RPM’s equivalent to 244,000 miles-per-hour. The sonic forcefield attains maximum strength at that speed.”
Genna did not have time to confirm with Kennedy, because an angry Captain Cooper came across every channels.
“Kennedy, what the fuck are you doing. Genna, I told you to save my crew, not destroy the 109 in an attempt at a rescue.”
“Captain Cooper, you, and the people aboard that ship, are part of this crew. I will do what is necessary to save ALL of the crew. Kennedy, and I have worked out the essentials. I will place the 109 between the two cargo ships, and assist in pushing your ship away. When the other ship explodes, we will have increased shield density to maximum. The concussive wave should pass around the 109, and the break should protect the cargo ship you are aboard.”
Cooper spoke again, this time more measured, more in control. “Genna, should is not will. I, we appreciate what you want to do, but the armaments, along with the implosion and explosions which are going to occur, will create too strong a wave. The 109 will get tossed aside, if not totally destroyed, and this ship will be shattered. You need to save as many people as you can by getting the 109 as far away as you can, and you have only a couple of minutes to do it.”
“Captain, my plan gives you a chance. Your plan gives you no chance.”
“Kennedy?” Cooper spoke directly to the AI.
“Yes, Captain Cooper.”
“Remember the discussion about insane decisions. Genna is making one now, and you are going along because she’s human, and you hope her decision will turn out justified. But you have to take control, and remove yourself from this situation. It isn’t about me, or the crew aboard this ship. It’s about the SFPT-109. Right now you are the only ship Space Fleet has with a chance in hell of stopping the Zenge if they return. If you are destroyed, Earth goes with you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain Cooper. I am taking piloting controls.”
“WAIT!” Storm crawled out form under the operations console. “Coop, I’ve reformatted the shield coverage patterns like we did aboard the Star Gazer. We can pad the shields. If Genna places the ship at the proper angle, I can increase shield density by ten-fold to protect the blast area. The concussive wave will pushed us forward, and if your ship is set properly against the PT-109’s, you will ride along.”
Then Kennedy broke in. “I have examined the angles, and with Storm’s changes, if we are at a twenty-two degree angle against the incoming concussive force, both ships will ride the shockwave until it dissipates.”
Storm, at the communications station, reported, “We have three-hundred-twelve seconds. You have to do something now.”
“Bouvier to Cargo ship, hold on, we’re going surfing.” She turned the bigger ship to twenty-two degrees, placed the front tip of the 109 against the front hull of the cargo ship, ceased movement, and while in neutral, revved the primary engine to rpm’s equivalent to 244,000mph.
Storm realigned the shield density, as the rpm’s rose.
In her head, Genna spoke to her AI: “Kennedy, I’m turning over the maneuvering thrusters to you. You will have to make a thousand adjustments to keep us on the wave. I’m not fast enough.”
The stolen cargo ship exploded, imploded, and exploded again, sending a shockwave at the two ships.
The plan worked, and the two ships rode the force of the concussion like an extreme surfer riding a multi-story wave. With no wipe-out at the end. It lasted 40,000 miles. Those inside both vessels experienced a rough ride, especially those in the under-powered cargo ship. When the wave dissipated, the two ships drifted to a stop less than one-hundred miles apart.
Storm tried first contact, using her personal trans-com. “Sky, you there?”
“Storm, we’re alive. Bruised, but everyone is fine. Even the stupid animals in the cells are okay. Sky, out.”
Storm retracted the auto-straps on her seat. She grabbed Genna in a bearhug as soon as the avatar released her straps and stood. She held her away, told her “Cool!” and hugged her harder.
Once freed by Storm, Genna gave Kennedy a mental thank you before contacting Captain Cooper on the ship-to-ship open channel.
“Captain Cooper, I am prepared to accept any punishment,” she told him.
“Stow it, Genna,” Cooper replied. “You made a command decision. Even if we ended up scattered bits and pieces, what you did was proper. When you have the chair, you make the decisions you think best. Even if it seems insane at the moment. Right, Kennedy.”
“I do not think I will ever fully understand,” the ships’ AI responded, “but I do believe I enjoy the process.”
Cooper took command, and issued orders.
“Listen up, people, we have a lot to accomplish. Counselor Bouvier, you need to get Dr. Trent and his people to the Star Gazer. Nathan, you listening?”
“To everything,” he replied. “Now that I’m still alive, this has been a fascinating trip.”
“As soon as you get to the Star Gazer, contact Commander Cornitsch. The two of you figure out how to get you, your team, and your equipment on that ship. The install of the space-fold array is priority number one.
“Genna, you contact Dr. Coptonitsch, he’s their head of medical. Sky will send info on how many aliens, races, and possible medical issues we have here. You need to pass them on to Dr. Coptonitsch. Our injured may overwhelm him. His ship is already dealing with massive casualties. God knows how many victims they have aboard. Dropping a hundred more on him is going to seem, well, inhumane, so prepare to offer any assistance. We have the three medics here with Dr. Singh. Offer help by the nurses on the 109 to him if he needs help. Dr. Singh, and his corpsmen will triage here. Hopefully, not every captive will need medical aid.
“Storm, as you get medical reports, data-dump them to MSD and EMS2. They can begin preparations to assist. When we return, they can have facilities and staff ready to go.
“Kennedy, you, and Genna, and the engineers aboard need to figure out how to get Demon either onto the 109 or the Star Gazer. She doesn’t have maneuvering, so somehow you will have to push, pull, or drag her into a hangar.
“Casey, I want our sensor arrays on deep scan, full penetration, total coverage, three-hundred sixty degrees. If anything shows up, anywhere, I want everybody to know immediately. We do not need to get blind-sided while we’re licking our wounds.
“Is everybody clear?”
A chorus of “yes, sirs!” responded.
In the spirit of a long-ago spaceship Captain, Cooper ended with “Make it so.”
Chapter 47
The PT-109 left Cooper and the others on the cargo ship, while it sped to the damaged Star Gazer.
Before departing, Coop asked Genna a personal favor: “Please ask Commander Cornitsch if he can check the survivors from deck 282. I realize the ship is chaotic, but I would appreciate it i
f he could see if two young Bosine, names Rosz and Chaspi, survived the attack.”
Genna repeated the names, confirmed the request, and engaged space-fold.
“Are they the ones you wanted to trade music with?” Sky asked.
Cooper nodded. He headed for the cold-storage area, leaving Sky in the cell block to translate for the Marines and Dr. Singh.
The meat hanging in the locker was a combination of livestock, wild animals, and people. Cooper was not going to order his people to take down anything they thought was once a sentient being, and wrap them for burial, unless he was willing to assist. They were Anton’s squad, but they were his crew.
He worked, keeping his stomach intact, and his anger in check. Anything which appeared not from an animal, they wrapped in tarp-like material found aboard. There were probably errors, and they had prepared animals or animal parts for burial, but everyone preferred that mistake.
He considered wrapping everything, but the Carvide, and some of the aliens might need the protein and other nutrients in the meat.
Gregory reached Coop over a private coms channel. “We’ve vetted the alien captives. The few Sky cannot translate are too weak to cause trouble, even if they were so inclined.
“The cells are filthy. Seems the Zenge would only occasionally hose them down, using the drainage vents in the floors at the rear of each cell. The waste and water shunted to a recycling system in the engine room.
“Singh says the air quality, and nothing in the environment is going to make us sick. He’s almost positive we aren’t going to catch anything from the captives, or the animals. One-hundred percent sure if we don’t make any skin-to-skin contact.
“Coop, it must smell like a zoo’s shit-pit in here. I want to move the aliens into the hallway and wash this place down, before I let our people get out of their EVA suits.”
“Give us a little time to get the butchered bodies, and the dead Zenge into the weapons’ storage unit,” Coop replied. “Then do what you need to.”