by Brian Dorsey
Martin let out a chortle. Hopefully no one had heard.
“Everyone clear?” shouted Yates.
“Uu-ah!” shouted the platoon.
“You clear, Moore?” asked Yates.
“Uu-ah, Sarge,” replied Moore.
“Fantastic,” declared Yates.
Glad she had waited before rushing into the room and full of respect for her platoon sergeant, Martin stepped into the entrance to the gym.
“Attention on deck!” shouted Sergeant Yates.
“At ease,” ordered Martin as she stopped in front of her platoon. The looks on their face told her they were still feeling the shame of Yates’ tongue-lashing.
“What’s the plan, LT?” asked Yates.
Martin paused as she thought about her ‘chats’ with both Yates and Jackson. “Your call, Sergeant,” she answered. “You work them for the morning and then report to me on their performance and recommendations.”
“You won’t be joining us?” asked a clearly surprised Yates.
“No,” answered Martin, “I’m gonna look over some environmental specs from the Golf System as well as the load-out for the ready transport…I’ll leave the morning to you.”
“Uh, yes, Ma’am,” replied Yates.
“Uu-ah,” she said as she turned toward the platoon. “Sergeant Yates will put you guys through your paces this morning. Work as hard for him as you do for me,” she added.
***
Martin struggled to keep her eyes open as she read another report on the Golf System. After rubbing her eyes, she tilted her head toward the overhead of her stateroom. She caught a glimpse of her clock. 0200.
“Damn it,” she said to herself, realizing she would need to be awake, again, in three hours. Draxius had entered Golf System two days earlier and after another day of sensor sweeps two of the four fighters attached to the ship would begin surface sweeps of Golf 2. In preparation for potential landings, she had told Sergeant Yates to have the platoon standing by at 0530 for small arms training followed by a briefing on Golf 2 terrain. Even though she was trying to give Yates more freedom, there was no way she was going to miss small arms training.
She turned her attention back to the data screen. “50 pages remaining?” she huffed as she read the left upper tab of the screen. “So much for sleep,” she added as she slid her thumb over the screen to pull up the next page. In a few moments her eyelids again grew heavy and she drifted off.
The piercing sound of Draxius’ air defense alarm startled Martin to consciousness. She quickly glanced toward the clock. “0215. Not a drill,” she said out loud. As Martin shook her head to wake herself, Draxius’ announcing system confirmed her thoughts.
BATTLE STATIONS-AIR DEFENSE. ALL HANDS TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONSALL HANDS TO YOUR BATTLE STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ROUTES ARE FORWARD AND UP TO STARBOARD AND DOWN AND AFT PORT. SETTING COMBAT CONTAINMENT BOUNDARIES. NOW LAUNCH ALERT CONDORS ALPHA-1 AND ALPHA-2. ALL PILOTS MAN YOUR AIRCRAFT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
“Damn,” declared Martin as she rose from her chair and quickly grabbed the belt holding her sword and sidearm. As she locked the belt around her waist, she heard her name called over her personal intercom by her bed.”
‘Martin, this is Jackson.’
“Sir,” she answered as she plopped on her bed and pulled a boot over her left foot.”
‘Muster your platoon at the armory for full combat load-out.’
“Uu-ah,” she replied, shoving her right foot into the other boot.
Following her acknowledgement of Jackson’s order, Martin activated the comms link to 1st Platoon’s barracks. “Yates?” she spoke into the intercom.
‘All accounted for, LT,’ responded Yates. ‘Orders?’
“Report to the armory for full combat load-out. I’ll meet you there.”
‘Uu-ah,’ responded Yates.
Martin stood and took a deep breath. She loved the challenge of combat but hated being stuck inside the hull of a ship in a fight. It made her feel like she was trapped inside a punching bag.
NOW LAUNCH CONDORS BRAVO-1 AND BRAVO-2. LAUNCH HAWKS ALPHA AND BRAVO. INCOMING TERILLIAN FOXTROTS AND ALPHAS.
Martin placed her hand on her sword and pistol involuntarily to ensure they were there and rushed out of her stateroom. As she turned the next corner, she saw Jackson a few meters ahead of her and quickly caught up with him.
“Do you know what we’re up against?” she asked.
“We’ve got incoming aircraft and it looks like some sloops or corvettes are nearby. Draxius’ long range scans picked them up a few minutes before the alert.”
“Do you think we can fight them off?”
“If it’s a squadron or less maybe.”
“If they can’t?”
“That’s why I want us ready. We may be repelling boarders. A frigate would be a nice prize for them; they’ll try to capture the ship if they can.”
“Well they’ll have to pay for it,” replied Martin.
“Damn right they will,” said Jackson as the two reached the armory.
Martin paused to look over her platoon. She was pleased with what she saw. Despite the low roar of a dozen different discussions, her men were in loose ranks with their gear received and already doing weapons checks.
“Here ya go, LT,” said Yates as he stepped in front of Martin with an extra rifle in one hand and a combat vest in the other.
“Thanks, Sergeant,” she replied as she quickly shoved one arm through the vest, then the other. She zipped the vest and grabbed the rifle from Yates. Looking over her weapon, she verified the ammo status was full and then depressed the loading pin, forcing a round into the chamber. Again she glanced at the weapons status, which read ‘Armed-Safe.’ “We’ll standby here for more orders,” continued Martin. “Once they’re all checked out on their gear, let’s go over assignments for repel boarders.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” replied Yates.
INCOMING AIRCRAFT. ALL HANDS BRACE FOR IMPACT.
Martin bent her knees and grabbed for a nearby support beam. Suddenly, she felt her body shoved toward the bulkhead as Draxius absorbed the first rounds of Terillian fire. Slamming into the bulkhead, Martin let out a grunt.
“Everybody good?” she shouted.
“Uu-ah,” replied Yates.
THIS IS THE DAMAGE CONTROL OFFICER. HULL BREACH REPORTED AT FRAME 95. BREACH HAS BEEN ISOLATED BY REMOTE ISOLATION. ELECTRICAL FIRES REPORTED AT 4-35-4-LIMA AND 1-37-2-ECHO.
Martin felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Jackson. He had a thin stream of blood running down his check.
“You okay?” asked Martin.
“Just a scratch from a box flying across the compartment,” replied Jackson. “What’s your status?”
“No casualties,” replied Martin.
“I hate just sitting here,” declared Jackson.
“No sh—”
THIS IS THE TACTICAL OFFICER. CONDORS ALPHA-1 AND BRAVO-1 ARE DESTROYED. HAWK ALPHA IS DESTROYED. FOUR TERILLIAN FOXTROTS AND TWO ALPHAS DESTROYED. CURRENTLY TRACKING 15 TERILLIAN FOXTROTS AND FIVE ALPHAS. LONG RANGE SENSORS INDICATE TWO CORVETTES AND ONE SLOOP IN SYSTEM. STARBOARD BATTERIES 31 AND 43 ARE DAMAGED. LAUNCH.
“We’re down to two condors and one hawk,” stated Jackson.
“They’re gonna take the ship.” Martin nodded in acknowledgement. “My guys will take the aft half of Draxius, including the hangar, and Cresius and 2nd Platoon can take the forward end.”
“Do it,” ordered Jackson.
“1st Platoon!” shouted Martin as she turned toward her men. “Sergeant Boles, take 1st Squad and cover frames 80-100. Sergeant Alama, 2nd squad will take 40-60. Grenadier Markum, 3rd Squad and your heavy guns will cover 60-80 including the hangar.” She turned toward Yates. “Yates, I want Medical Corporal Daniel and Comms Corporal Sellers with Markum. I want you to position yourself with 3rd Squad initially. Depending on where they hit, make sure we are shifting resources as needed.” She turned back toward her platoon. “Everyone make sure your tactical comms li
nks are up and keep your ears open.”
She stepped forward to address her men. A bolt of excitement shot through her body.
“If those Ters set one foot on this ship, they’re setting foot on Humani soil. Out here in the nothing, Draxius represents our land…the land of your fathers and grandfathers…the land of your wives and children.” She paused, the blood pumping hard through her body. She was born for this—and she knew it. She focused her gaze on the front rank of her platoon. “Draxius is home,” she said calmly, staring into the eyes of the private in front of her.
She looked up toward the entire platoon.
“Draxius is Alpha Humana!” she roared. “Platoon attention!” she shouted and 1st Platoon snapped into position. “How will you face danger?”
“I will stand strong, for my comrades will do the same!” shouted the platoon in unison.
“Will you fear death?”
“No, for death comes but once and cowardice is forever!”
“Will you close with the enemy?” she continued as she stepped through the ranks of her platoon.
“Yes, for my will is stronger than his!”
“Will you show courage?”
“Yes, for it is the one possession that cannot be taken!”
“How will you die?”
“With pride, for I am fighting for my lineage and my people!”
“How will you face death?” she asked as she stepped back in front of her men.
“With joy, for I will be become immortal, my shinning glory never forgotten!”
“Uu-ah!” she shouted.
“Uu-ah!” replied the platoon so loudly Martin felt the vibrations against her body.
“To your stations!” she shouted and 1st Platoon dispersed to defend Draxius to the last man.
Her heart pounded and her spine tingled. She took a deep breath to settle herself from her own words. After a slow exhale, she turned toward the exit.
“Martin, wait,” ordered Jackson.
“Sir?” she asked. “I need to get to my men.”
“I want you in the Combat Center initially.”
“What?” asked Martin, confused by the order. “I need to be with my platoon.”
“Hold on. I just want you with me until we pick up the incoming transports on our sensors. That way you have the best tactical picture in case we have comms problems.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” he continued. “There’s no way I’m keeping you out of this fight.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied with a smile.
Martin activated her tactical circuit connecting her with her platoon. “Sergeant Yates, this is Martin. I’ll be in Combat until we see boarding parties in route.”
‘Roger,’ she heard in reply.
“Let’s go,” said Jackson.
“Yes, sir,” she replied as the two turned and raced toward Draxius’ Combat Center.
Draxius shuddered again and Martin’s body went airborne as the ship jerked violently to port. She hit the deck hard, instantly feeling the weight of Jackson’s body as he fell on top of her. She looked into his eyes, his face almost touching hers. Her heart stopped, or at least she felt like it did. And she felt that same warmth as when he held her at the range once again washing over her body. ‘Say something,’ she told herself.
“You okay?” asked Jackson, his body pressing against hers.
“Yeah.” Her stomach tightened as she looked into his eyes and felt the warmth of his breath against her face. “You?”
“Yeah,” he answered, his eyes locked onto hers.
“Then you should probably get off me,” she said half-heartedly.
“Yeah,” he replied.
His body pressed against hers. He wasn’t moving.
“Today?” asked Martin.
“Yeah,” smiled Jackson as he slowly—very slowly—pushed himself up.
She turned her head slightly to the right as she felt the pressure of his body against her lessen. Her head still turned, she bit her lower lip and let out a quick breath. ‘That wasn’t horrible,’ she thought to herself.”
“Martin!” she heard Jackson yell, snapping her out of her thoughts.
“Yes?” she answered as she looked up toward Jackson, standing above her with his hand outstretched to help her to her feet.
“You sure you don’t have a concussion or something?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve said your name like three times.”
“I’m good,” she said quickly as she grasped his hand and jumped to her feet. “Let’s get to Combat,” she added, hoping to ignore their moment.
Martin noticed the lights flicker, dim, and then illuminate again.
THIS IS THE DAMAGE CONTOL OFFICER. ELECTRICAL FIRE AT 4-35-4-LIMA IS OUT. NEW ELECTRICAL FIRES REPORTED AT 2-25-4-TANGO AND 5-81-1-ECHO. FORWARD REACTOR IS DOWN. PORT STATIC POWER SUPPLY IS DAMAGED AND OFF LINE. COOLANT RUPTURE FROM FOUR SERVICE TURBINE. EMERGENCY POWER IS CARRYING FRAMES 30 TO 70. EXPLOSION AND FIRE IN HANGAR BAY. TR ANSPORT ALPHA ELECTRICAL AND FUEL FIRE. HULL BREACH AT 2-20-8-TANGO EMERGENCY AIR PROVIDING—
“Yates, this is Martin,” she spoke into the tactical circuit ignoring the rest of the announcement. “Report.”
‘LT, this is Yates,’ reported the sergeant. ‘Seleze and Treat are down. Carl has some severe burns. Doc Daniel is on it.’
“Roger,” replied Martin. “1st and 2nd Squads report.”
‘1st Squad no casualties,’ came the report.
“2nd Squad?” repeated Martin. “Sergeant Alama?”
Silence.
“Shit,” she cursed. “2nd Squad, Alpha Team? Alpha Team report.” She shook her head in frustration. “Bravo Team?”
‘Bravo here. Corporal Kline reporting. Sergeant Chaney is down. He’s dead.’
“Roger,” acknowledged Martin as she closed her eyes and clinched her teeth. “Yates, send a man to check on Alpha Team.”
‘Roger,’ came Yates reply.
THIS IS THE TACTICAL OFFICER. ALL FOXTROTS AND HAWKS LOST. SHORT RANGE FIRE CONTROL ON LOCAL EMERGENCY POWER. JUMP CAPABILITY IS DOWN. MOUNTS 11, 21, 22, 32, 42, 51, 52, 72, 82 ARE DOWN MAIN BATTERY AVAILABLE.
“Why don’t they just say what guns are left?” grumbled Martin. “The list would be shorter.”
“Let’s get to Combat,” ordered Jackson.
As they made their run toward the Combat Center, Martin saw repair parties and medical teams rushing in all directions trying to restore systems and stop the spread of fires. They turned the next corner and meet Lieutenant Cresius at the massive ballistic door to Draxius’ Combat Center. As the two approached, Cresius saluted.
“What’s your status, Cresius?” asked Jackson.
“Sir,” reported Cresius, “eight dead and five injured, three severe. Twelve fit for duty including the wounded.”
“Damn it,” replied Jackson. “We’re down to forty at best. They’re tearing us apart and they haven’t even boarded us yet.”
Martin grabbed Jackson’s arm. “If there’s just one of us left when they board, the Rangers will still pay dearly.”
Jackson nodded in acknowledgement and activated the door to combat.
Chapter 4
The Combat Center was controlled chaos. Dozens of reports were being received and orders given out. Martin watched as an engineering officer took damage reports and updated the Tactical Officer on the ship’s engineering status. Another officer took reports from medical. Another from the repair and firefighting teams. Beyond the small row of supporting stations lay a row of massive screens displaying real-time status of Draxius’ weapons systems, propulsion, communications, as well as tactical plots representing data from long and short range sensors. Even though they had only felt two large explosions, Martin saw the symbols for dozens of Terillian fighters swarming around Draxius as well as the three larger escort ships on the long range scan.
“Commander Renux,” reported Jackson as he saluted the
ship’s commanding officer.
“Captain Jackson,” replied Renux, acknowledging the group.
“How bad is it, sir?” asked Jackson.
“It’s bad,” answered Renux. “There’s just too damn many of them. The only way they could have that many ships in the area is to have violated the Accords and sent in a carrier or if they have a land-base nearby. My guess is somewhere on Golf 2. Either way, we’re outgunned. I’m down to 15% air defense, we’ve taken 30% casualties, and I’m down to emergency power forward with no jump capability.” Renux paused. “We’ll be needing your services soon, I expect. It won’t be long until they try to board us.”
“We’ll be ready, Commander Vari Renux,” replied Cresius.
“Ready to die?” asked the commander. “We can not let them take this ship and with their escorts nearby, they will probably have a full battalion of Scout Rangers. And you have, what, maybe 40 Guardsmen left to face their hundreds.”
“Then we die,” interjected Martin. “But trust me commander, we’ll take every Ranger we can with us.”
“Well said, Lieutenant,” smiled Renux. “But I just need you to hold them off long enough to initiate self-destruct protocols.”
“You’re going to destroy Draxius?” asked Jackson.
“We can’t let them take the ship and even if they destroy us, they can pick up pieces of hardware and other intel that could severely damage other operations in the Dark Zone. The self-destruct protocol will ensure everything of importance is destroyed.”
“And the crew?” asked Martin.
“Once the sequence is set, there will be ten to fifteen minutes to utilize the escape pods although I fear most will either be taken out by Terillian fighters, captured, or die on Golf 2 without adequate environmental gear.”
“How long will the sequence take?” asked Jackson.
“About an hour,” replied Renux. “But if you can hold off any boarding parties until ten to fifteen minutes before detonation, they won’t be able to disable the sequence even if they knew what they were looking for.”
“So forty-five minutes?” asked Cresius.
“Forty,” replied Renux. “The sequence was started five minutes ago.”
“No problem,” stated Martin. “We can hold up a battalion for that long.”