“What the—”
* * *
“Can,” Coop’s gaze darted from the view forward to that of the enemy bridge, “they tell we’re in their systems?”
“I do not believe so,” Arian said, a quiver breaking the calm tone for the first time.
Now, when it was too late, he realized he hadn’t asked what a Mycterian looked like. That should have been his first question. Seriously need-to-know. Closest thing he could come to in his experience was a stork, but not the cute kind that delivered babies. This bunch was the real mean looking deal, the kind that ate other birds’ babies. The bridge crew all had blood-red beaks that were long, straight and a honed-to-a-knife-edge sharp. The ring around its eyes was red, too. Its tuft of gray hair should have been a comic element since it looked like it had stuck a claw in an electric outlet. Only there was nothing funny about the way its creepy head seemed to sink onto broad shoulders, giving it the look of an evil banker, the kind that foreclosed houses and tied gals to the railroad tracks. And invaded systems not its own.
It appeared to be wearing a uniform, one that upped the creep factor by quite a bit. All spikes and red and black. Coop was willing to go out on a limb and guess that even their babies weren’t cute.
A shift in the enemy fighters grabbed his attention. They were doing a new dance, an intense series of maneuvers. In the swarms of hostile signals, he felt a lot of alone.
“Let me help, Banshee,” Tiger said in his ear, his voice tight with worry.
Coop wasn’t sure Tiger could get through their fighter screen now. However, “If you see an opportunity, don’t pass it up, but let’s see if we can take down the ship controlling those…depth charges, first.” That’s what they reminded him of. Depth charges. They even appeared to leave the ships on a rising and falling arc.
“Roger that, Banshee.”
Coop could tell it bothered Tiger not being on Coop’s six. He frowned, literally one eye on the big picture trying to figure out what was making his gut twitch while he dodged the shuttle through the little picture. His gut twitched harder. Something about they way were forming bothered him, but it was moving so fast…
“I have a targeting solution for you,” Arian said.
It popped up on his HUD. “Good job.” He keyed Tiger. “When I unzip my fly, all kinds of bad things are gonna happen, but you’ll have your best chance to join the party.”
“Roger that.”
Lots more enthusiasm in his tone this time.
Coop eased in, watching his targeting for optimum firing.
“I’m gonna hit the speedbrakes as soon as we fire.” It was their best chance for not getting blown up. They’d expect them to dodge or flee. So they wouldn’t. “Still gonna be ugly.”
His gut twitched harder.
Targeting flashed. He pressed the fire button and felt the jolt as it left them and then the jerk as he hit the brakes as hard as he could.
Two things happened simultaneously.
The Mycterian bridge image shivered and then vanished as the ship went dark. The depth charges the ship had launched exploded prematurely, sending a good bunch of the enemy fighters into the next world, or into uncontrolled spins. There were multiple impacts, but he didn’t have time to enjoy it.
Two reasons for that. Being stopped only helped them with the shots fired, not with the random spin of out-of-control fighter craft. Or the debris from the escort ship when it exploded. He had some momentum left for small movements, but not for big ones. Mostly he watched and prayed. While his gut upped the twitch to bitch level.
“I got a bad feeling—”
The other smaller escort launched weapons. Something new.
Before he could ask, Arian said, “I am scanning the objects.” She inhaled sharply. “They are similar to the weapons the pirates launched before our anomaly transit.”
“The ones designed to take down our defensive systems?”
“I believe so.”
Always trust the gut.
“They might not be completely effective,” she said. “They will not be familiar with your systems.”
“Launch those counter measures,” he said. “Tiger, hold position.”
* * *
Arian fired the counter measures, two packages of them from the rear of the shuttle. It seemed as if they moved away from the ship in opposites directions too slowly to help.
The enemy devices had been fired in a spread, but enough were on a trajectory to intersect their ship. If the counter measures did not draw some of them off…
“How much longer—” Coop’s question cut off when the devices activated.
Like seed pods, they exploded in multiple directions. Her HUD lit up with hundreds of targets. She would imagine the same was happening to the enemy.
“Hotel sierra!” Coop and Tiger spoke almost together.
Attracted to the targets, many of the devices changed course. That was, as Coop would say, the good news. The bad news? The remaining ships began to fire on these suddenly inviting targets. Energy blasts crisscrossed everywhere, including where they were. The shuttle rocked and shuddered.
“Multiple hits to our shields,” Arian said. “We are down below fifty percent on shields. Cloak is at forty-five percent.” And this before the other devices reached them.
There was nowhere for Coop to go. The shuttle continued to take hits. Tiger was, she presumed, cursing. The string of words was not something she recognized.
“Three of the devices are still on track to impact with this ship,” Arian said. “Perhaps I should have deployed one counter measure,” she added apologetically.
“That was two? Holy—” Coop bit off whatever he’d planned to say. “How long to impact?”
“Ten seconds,” Arian said.
The enemy was taking out many of their own devices in their efforts to target the counter measures. One of these shots reduced their incoming to two.
“Brace for impact.” Even as she said the words, her fingers worked frantically on the keys, diverting power to their weakened shields. The cloak would have to fend for itself.
One device was somewhat ahead of the other. The shuttle shuddered violently once, then they took the second hit.
* * *
“Shield status?” Coop fought to get the shuttle back under control.
“Down to twenty percent,” Arian said. A pause and then, “The enemy is firing more of the disabling devices.”
“How many heading for us?”
“All of them.”
“All—”
“Our cloak is at five percent. They can see us.”
Coop heard the sound of keys. Didn’t have time to look at her.
“I’m endeavoring to restore cloak, but—”
“Shields were more important,” he finished for her. It was the right call. But it wasn’t going to save them. The closer of the big ships launched two larger versions of what he guessed were shuttles. “They are going to try to board us.”
Against his will, he heard Yoda in his head. Yeah, they weren’t gonna try. He keyed his radio to the Marine Staff Sergeant in command in the rear compartment. “Prepare to be boarded.”
* * *
Arian doubled down on her controls. Nothing she could do would be enough. The shuttle wasn’t entirely visible, but the aliens didn’t need to see all of it. She scanned the approaching enemy shuttles. Their configuration was different from this one. From what she could see, there was something that looked like an airlock on the front, one surrounded by shafts that could be weapons or securing devices.
“Can they punch through what’s left of our shields?” Coop asked. His tone was icy cool.
“I believe so.”
“They want us alive,” he concluded. “They could blow us out of space right now.”
“They wish to know who we are,” Arian agreed.
“And collect intel from us.” He gave a sharp nod, his hand slack on the stick. Any move Coop made now was pointless.
&
nbsp; The enemy fire had stopped. The enemy fighters were moving to surround them. They were confident but wary. If he did anything, they would be blown them out of space. Tiger was still out there, but she could not see what he could accomplish on his own without ending up in the same predicament. She had more counter measures, but they would not fall for that again. At least, not easily. Her mind raced, inventorying their remaining weaponry and how it might be used. But her numbers kept coming up short. As good as their weapons were, the enemy had more of everything.
“Powering down,” Coop said, unstrapping. He did not rise, however. He shifted so that he half faced her.
Arian met his gaze, noted the calm resolve in his eyes with, she hoped, the same in hers.
“I presume we have a self-destruct in their somewhere.”
She felt a sudden chill, but she nodded. “When—”
“Is the rear compartment secure? Pressurized?”
She nodded once more. The breach had occurred in the upper deck. She’d sealed that section off from the rest of the shuttle and restored the oxygen and pressure back there.
“How much time do we have?”
She ran the numbers. “Fifteen minutes.”
He nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna have a chat with Sergeant Major Wilkins back there.” He hesitated. “I’m not going to say it. But when I say its Zulu time, you start it, okay?”
She nodded.
He started to rise but stopped. “Arian.” He leaned toward her, his gaze so filled with regret her heart ached.
She released her strap so that she could turn more fully toward him. She could not stop her hand from lifting to touch his lean cheek. Words choked her, but none of them seemed right for the moment. His grin was crooked. He bent, his lips hard against hers. They wanted to cling. To savor. To dive deep but there was no time…
Time. She felt something twitch in her mind but, she half smiled, there was no time to think about time. All they could do was their best. And then…die.
He eased back, stroked one finger across lips that trembled at his touch. “Use the radio to keep me updated. And lock the door after me. No one gets in or out. Got it?”
She wanted to protest, and perhaps he saw it in her eyes.
Now he touched her cheek. “You saw them. Just…destroy the ship when I say it’s Zulu time.”
“Yes. I—” She did not know the words to express what was in her heart.
He looked at her as if trying to memorize something. “Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.”
He hit the control, and the panel slid back. Arian caught a glimpse of the marines, fully geared up and strapped down. Just before the panel slid back, she saw one of them start to rise.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, locked down the cockpit, dashed at her eyes, and attacked her keyboard again. She had to finish. If they did not make it, this must not be the end of her promise to the Phoenicopterians. She set up the HUD so she could see the approach of the enemy ships, then went back to her work on the array programming. But part of her mind was searched for a way out…
* * *
“The first enemy ship is on approach. They appear to be targeting the rear hatch.” Arian’s voice was as calm as an air traffic controller in Coop’s comm.
He had used the time to huddle with Wilkins. They all wanted to fight. They were Marines. He owed them a chance to die fighting. And the truth was, it would provide them with intel. It wasn’t enough to see the enemy ships. They needed to see the enemy, see what they were up against, or at least, what the birds were up against. He’d asked Arian to keep the cameras in this section recording as long as she could and to send the feed to Tiger.
At least they’d die for something.
He’d geared up and holstered his hand gun, and holding his P-90, he tried to blend in with the Marines.
“You’re in charge of this knife fight, Master Sergeant Wilkins,” he said, giving him a grin before pulling his oxygen mask into place. This was their specialty, their show. He’d gotten them into this, and all he could do now was fight at their side. “Your orders, sir?”
Before Wilkins could speak, Arian’s calm voice came over the comms. “The second ship is changing course. I think they might be targeting the upper deck.” A pause. “I have disabled the access controls from there to your compartment.”
It was clear that Wilkins had been thinking while Coop geared up. “Sir—”
“Call me Coop.”
“Coop, you and Franks at the rear. Provide back up and watch that access from the upper deck. We don’t need them coming at us from front and back.”
Coop might have protested inside his head, but his chin went up and down in a terse nod, and he followed Franks to the rear.
Wilkins deployed the rest of his team to take advantage of the cover provided by the rows of seats, ordering them all to hook in with carabiners, just in case the enemy depressurized the compartment.
There was no sound of approach—other than Arian’s terse updates.
They felt a thump, then heard a kind of hiss.
“Kill the lights,” Wilkins ordered.
The shuttle’s interior went dark, blacker than night dark. Coop pulled down his night sight but didn’t turn it on. The compartment would most likely get light when the aliens cracked the hatch. But you never knew, maybe the storks could see in the dark, so he had it ready.
Franks voice was quiet. “Any idea what kind of weapons we’re up against, sir?”
“Coop,” he corrected. “Not a clue.”
“No one fires until I say so,” Wilkins said, his voice now coming through the comms.
The hissing sound increased, then a thin red line began to track around the hatch, creating a circle slightly larger than a man.
Now there was a shriek of metal, and a thin beam of light appeared around the edges of the rear hatch.
Coop might have been praying. Bet he wasn’t the only one.
The red light connected, then there was another teeth gritting metal shriek as the edge of the circle began to bend backward. They were trying to protect themselves as long as possible, he figured.
“They have breached the upper section, too,” Arian said, also using the comms now. “The shuttles rear cameras are still operational. I count twenty combatants assembled to board the lower compartment, the same targeting the upper.”
“So we outnumber them by a lot,” one of the Marines said with satisfaction.
Marine math, Coop thought with an inward chuckle. And he knew he wasn’t included in the twelve they were counting. Until he proved himself, he was a liability.
“Wish we could get a look,” Wilkins said, and in a few seconds a HUD appeared in the air in front of them.
The storks were lined up in rows of two. They appeared heavily armored but carried no visible weapons. For what felt like a long time nothing moved on either side. Then a circle hatch retracted in the ceiling above the storks. Something began to lower—
“Is that a—”
“No talking,” Wilkins ordered.
Not one word as the human in the cage descended, the cage clanking to the deck in front of the first two storks. Now he could see these two’s uniforms were slightly different. But they were in front. In their world, that was the red shirt section. The sides of the cage hit the deck. The human—male—screamed and kept screaming as the storks stabbed him. And then ate him.
Wilkins didn’t have to tell them to be quiet. It took all Coop’s courage to hold his ground when the two storks looked up, blood and entrails dripping off their beaks, and looked their direction.
Coop could almost feel Wilkins thinking.
“They want to demoralize us. But they can’t, can they?”
“No, sir!” The Marines’ shout was soft but emphatic.
No, Coop thought, and the flyboy won’t either, even if he wished…
“I have restored some measure of the shield power,” Arian’s voice had a distinct shake to it, “and I am retracting it to cover
you.”
The shield wouldn’t protect them from a physical assault by the storks, but it helped to hear her voice. In the HUD they could see the storks readying for their assault.
The cut-out circle fell, hitting the decking with a loud clank. And multiple weapons fire hit the shield.
“They are firing stun weapons,” Arian told them.
Stun. So the storks could eat them.
“If you see us go down, it’s Zulu time,” he told Arian.
* * *
The flare of weapons fire ceased. Seemed like a long bit of nothing, then the clicking started. Like thousands of annoying students tapping on their desks. Another pause while the tapping increased and then another sound joined the tapping.
The sound of claws on metal as the storks started forward.
Still no sign of weapons that he could see, but the storks looked heavily armored. Were they trying to draw their fire so they could use their stun weapons again?
“Hold your fire.” Wilkins voice was soft in the comm.
So he figured they were trying to get them to expose their positions, too. Once they were far enough into the shuttle, the storks would block their own fire. Only…their tactics had been solid up to now. Were they sacrificing…fighters or was there something he was missing? Did they have something up their—wing?
The tapping and click of claws on metal were as bad as chalk on chalkboard. Coop fought the urge to twitch his shoulders, something about the blood-red eyes made moving seem a bad idea.
The line of two widened into three as the first line stepped onto the shuttle, then widened into four.
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