The Dotari Salvation (Terran Strike Marines Book 1)

by Richard Fox

  During the war against these machines, from the first scouring of Earth to the final battle aboard the Xaros Master’s Dyson sphere, the drones had never communicated with their victims. Hoffman didn’t expect an answer now.

  The patterns on the drone’s surface changed and he felt the deck shift beneath his feet. More stalks snapped away from the ceiling and a crimson beam struck the deck and traced a line straight toward Hoffman. He jumped to one side and threw the grenade.

  Another stalk broke free of the metal latticework and knocked the grenade aside just before it exploded. The molten lance clipped the drone’s side, leaving a glowing furrow against the shell. The blast wave slapped Hoffman onto his back.

  The drone fell from the ceiling, landing in the center of the bridge. It pushed itself up with its stalks as hunks of pyrite fell from the damaged shell like it was bleeding. The drone lifted a stalk and pointed the tip at Hoffman. It struck toward him like a shot arrow.

  Hoffman swung his rifle butt around and knocked the stalk aside, then he flipped his rifle over and fired point-blank into the drone’s shell. The drone staggered sideways, cracks spreading across its surface. The Strike Marine dropped the spent battery from the rifle and slapped a new one home. He rolled forward and dodged another stalk as it scythed through the air where his neck had been a moment earlier.

  He grabbed the base of a stalk and jumped up, using his handhold to swing up and land on top of the drone. He fired and blew a crater out of the shell.

  “That’s for my captain!”

  A squeal sounded from the drone as Hoffman fired again. The shell shot clean through the drone and it fell flat against the floor. The shell glowed red-hot and Hoffman felt his feet scorch through his boots.

  Hoffman jumped aside as the drone disintegrated, crumbling to ash that seemed to evaporate away into nothing.

  Hoffman waited, rifle ready. The bridge was eerily silent; the only trace of the drone was the gap in the crystals on the ceiling. Tiny cracks formed in the geode, spreading with the creaks and groans of an ice floe. He went to one of the Marines bound to the wall. The woman had her chin against her chest. He felt for a pulse and found none.

  Hoffman took her identity tag off her armor and repeated the process for the rest of the captured Marines. None had survived the drone’s destruction.

  At the end, he held a fistful of dog tags as the geodes encasing the bridge crumbled to dust.

  “Semper Fi, Marines.” Hoffman went back to the elevator.

  ****

  “I hate the ones with laser beams,” Adams said. She knelt behind an overturned workbench and reloaded with smooth efficiency.

  “Laser beams?” Moz’in asked. He stood without thinking as he pondered his own question and the possible answer. “I think you use the term without precision.”

  King grabbed him and shoved him back behind the workstation. “Stay low and keep working.”

  King rushed back to the barricades, leaned around the edge of the doorframe, and fired three short bursts at the banshees. Several energy beams converged on his position from the roiling mass of mutated and cybernetically enhanced Dotari. He shoved himself backwards and rolled sideways as a shower of splintered alloys and sparks covered the entire team of Strike Marines.

  King came to his feet and ran in a low crouch to utilize the smashed and rearranged computer stations as concealment. At this point, he wasn’t sure if they were good cover, but they did hide his movements. He reached the end of the pile of broken things, ducked around the corner, and shot a banshee who had been creeping around the flank. His rounds took it directly in the face and flipped it onto its back on the catwalk just outside the doorway.

  “The really great thing about the situation,” Booker said, “is that we can’t go back the way we came.”

  King stared at the reactors in the distance, not bothering to estimate the number of enemies assaulting his position. “We still have a mission.”

  “Kill enemies!” Opal roared as he fired his oversized gauss rifle.

  “I’m so glad we brought that guy,” Adams said.

  “It’s on!” Moz’in shouted. “It’s working!”

  “Then do something!” King yelled.

  “I know what to do. You tell him that I don’t like his attitude.” Moz’in snapped his beak.

  The team looked toward King.

  “Step back and be ready if they come over the barricade. I think I know what he’s going to do,” King said.

  Moz’in typed furiously on the dusty keyboard. The ship shuddered and the blast door fell, obliterating the barricade. Banshees charged, slamming into the barrier.

  “One more thing. Ah, that should do it,” Moz’in said. An alarm sounded and a warning in an ancient dialect of the Dotari language repeated several times.

  Air vented from the power station outside the engineering room. The banshees didn’t react at first, but moments later, they started to fall to their knees and gasp for air. Dozens fell from catwalks and other places they had been climbing to attack the Strike Marines. In the distance, reactors fired online.

  King sat down near the transparent wall to watch the banshees suffocating.

  Adams went to Moz’in and gave him a big hug. “You’re the best crazy old Dotari I’ve ever met.”

  “Good work, team. Check your gear and check your buddy for injuries,” King said.

  Moz’in extricated himself from Adams’ hug and typed furiously on the computer station.

  Chapter 19

  "Hit that ship now!” Valdar touched a Dotari ship in the tank that was heading straight for the Breitenfeld. Point defense turrets on his ship slewed toward the target and opened fire. Valdar watched as the oncoming ship closed in, and he realized the math was not in his favor.

  “XO, we need—”

  The ship lurched forward as the engines went into overdrive. Valdar winced as the sudden acceleration threw off the aim of the defense turrets and hits peppered the Dotari ship. A flash burst from the alien’s engine banks and the port thrusters spun off the ship.

  "Approaching the Kid'ran. Dotari small ships moving to intercept," Egan said

  "Gor'al, what types of ships are those?"

  "Maintenance and transport, lightly crewed," Gor'al said. "But they are crewed."

  "Understood. Guns, aim for the engines. Do not allow them to ram us."

  Lieutenant Clark and his team used programed firing solutions in conjunction with manual controls. Valdar kept his mouth shut and let them work. The chatter of their voices on the commo band soothed him, not like the half-crazy cross talk of his Strike Marines in other types of engagements.

  Valdar thought of his godsons, Ken and Jared Hale, wondering if their lives on Terra Nova were a good deal less exciting than what he was going through right now.

  The new Dotari tracks suddenly slowed and banked away.

  “Gor’al, what is this?” Valdar asked.

  “Strange,” the old officer said. “They’re returning to their fleet positions.”

  “Active guns, hold fire,” Valdar said.

  “Sir, we’re about to get clear shots on their engines,” Egan said.

  “Hold…something’s off.” Valdar tapped fingers against the edge of his tank.

  "It appears they are establishing a holding pattern near the Kid'ran," Egan said. "All point defense, cease-fire."

  "XO, maintain our momentum. I don't want to be caught flat-footed if this is a trick," Valdar said.

  "Aye aye, sir. We're picking up transmissions from the Kid'ran. A text message, sir?" Gor'al said. "It's from the emergency override channels…recalling all ships. Waking up the emergency crews. There's something else here."

  "On display," Valdar said.

  Letters typed across the holo tank. C-O-D-M-I-T-T-E-N-S.

  "Cod mittens?" Egan asked.

  Valdar smirked. "Dotari."

  In the holo tank, the letters blinked off and were replaced with G O T T - M I T - U-N-S.

  A h
ailing frequency opened on a larger ship near the Kid'ran's Gift. Gor'al opened it.

  A Dotari, painfully thin, stared into the view screen. Lines marked his face. Tubes were still connected to his forehead and throat, like he’d just come out of cryo sleep. He warbled something in Dotari, eyes wide with shock.

  "Gor'al, I will let you explain. Egan, get me a damage report. The sooner we can recover and build the gate, the sooner we can get home."

  Chapter 20

  Valdar sniffed a cup of coffee and took a sip. Sneering at the oily black liquid, he made a mental note to figure out who made this pot and relieve them of the additional duty. Though after so many hours on his feet, any manner of caffeinated liquid was appreciated.

  Gor’al held his cup of coffee awkwardly. He wafted the steam toward his face and clicked his beak.

  “Egan, let’s clear the bridge of nonessential personnel for a conference,” Valdar said.

  “Aye aye, sir. Does that include the Strike Marines?”

  “I only see one, and he needs to stay for this,” Valdar said.

  Egan, Gor’al, and Hoffman joined Valdar near the holo tank that showed ships towing parts of the Grinder into place. In one corner of the holo-tank display stood an image of the first Dotari captain to wake up from the Golden Fleet. He watched the construction efforts with interest.

  Valdar leaned his head toward Hoffman. “Have you ever seen a Grinder jump gate under construction, Lieutenant Hoffman?”

  “No, sir,” Hoffman said.

  Gor’al stared at the tank, eyes tracking each development in the tediously slow construction process. “Nor have I, Admiral Valdar. My people are proud to be a part of it.”

  Terran Alliance ships and the recovered Dotari maintenance vessels worked together to tow the pieces closer together.

  “Captain Shin’ji, are you receiving?”

  The first Dotari captain to awaken from the Golden Fleet came up in the holo tank.

  “Yes, Admiral Valdar. I have a superb video and audio links. Your engineers have been most helpful restoring our ships after the noorlas damaged them.”

  “Good,” Valdar said. “This is going faster than we planned, but we need to discuss the elephant in the room.”

  Egan winced as the Dotari discussed Valdar’s words in rapid, back-and-forth Dotari. Valdar rolled his eyes.

  “Sir, I believe we have discussed your use of metaphors while in the presence of non-Terrans,” Egan said.

  “We have, XO.”

  Gor’al made several soothing gestures and calmed the hologram of the Dotari captain, then faced Valdar. “I explained the difference between an elephant of Earth and the nearest approximation on Dotari—the Yah’var—which is what the translation protocols put into our language. Then I explained there is no elephant/Yah’var and gave him the conversation tables we use to understand how much of the human language we must ignore to communicate properly.”

  “Ah…thanks,” Valdar said, then waited a moment until he had everyone’s attention. “There are more ships than we anticipated. The Grinder has enough energy stored in the control unit—what we call the Keystone—to send only a quarter of the ships in the Golden Fleet to a star system with a Crucible gate and then back to Dotari.”

  “We can move crews and passengers to other ships,” said the recently awoken captain. “There will be a strain on life support, but—”

  “It won’t be enough,” Valdar said. “The math isn’t in our favor. My engineers insist we can recharge the Grinder with the Dotari ships’ power cores so we can open more than one wormhole. But that will take time—time the Dotari dying of the phage don’t have.”

  Valdar opened a file and tossed it into the holo tank. A graph appeared.

  The awoken captain peered over the data. “You wish to send a single small ship through almost immediately. Then the rest of the fleet in intervals. We’ll be in the void for…almost half a year. If this is the last hardship before we return to Dotari, my fleet will endure. Besides, almost everyone is still asleep in their pods.”

  “It may well be longer,” Valdar said. “The Grinder isn’t designed for this much stress, but the Breitenfeld will be the last ship through the last wormhole. I’m under strict orders to bring the Keystone back to Earth. As for the first ship back to Dotari…”

  “Yes, of course, Admiral Valdar. I will have the doctors awoken right away,” the captain said. He turned to Gor’al and spoke excitedly.

  Valdar looked at Hoffman. “Hoffman, you’re going back on the first ship.”

  “Sir?”

  “There’s still a bit of a journey once you’re back in a Crucible system. A Strike Marine officer can smooth out any travel difficulties. My crew took some casualties during the fight, and they need treatment that this ship can’t provide. Get them to a medical center. Get the Dotari doctors and the cure to the phage back to their home world and send an update to Fleet Command. I’m dead serious about Breitenfeld being the last ship out of here. Every civilian on this Golden Fleet will get to safety before we do. No shortcut home for me or the old girl. Besides, what would you and your Marines do for months aboard my ship besides cause trouble?”

  “Yes, Admiral. Idle hands.”

  “Gor’al, I’ll leave you with Egan and our new friend to work out the immediate logistics.” Valdar stepped away from the holo tank, motioning for Hoffman to follow.

  “You did well, son. This ship and I have been through some close calls, but what you and your Marines did was in keeping with this ship’s reputation. You saved the mission and a lot of Dotari lives in the process, and you stopped the Breitenfeld from taking more of a beating.”

  “It was my Marines, sir. I’ll pass on your compliments,” Hoffman said.

  Valdar studied the man, glad he hadn’t kept the controversial Hale persona of other doughboy platoon leaders. “The Breitenfeld isn’t a museum. I’ve been keeping her safe for far too long. I’ll release her back to the line when we return. She’ll need a Strike Marine complement. You interested in the job?”

  “Serve here? Under your command?”

  Valdar chuckled at the combat veteran’s wide-eyed expression. “That’s how it works.”

  “Yes, sir. I’d be honored.”

  “Good,” Valdar said. “Prep your team to return home. We’ll link up once my mission out here is done.” He shook Hoffman’s hand and left the man standing in the hallway, still wearing the same stunned expression on his face.

  Chapter 21

  The halls of the Dotari hospital were quiet, almost mournful as doctors and nurses went about their duties. Acorso stopped to write out a few notes on a data slate. This day was no different from the last. Dotari stricken with the phage continued on the disease’s uneven path. The latest round of synthesized antibodies had failed tests…again. The sound of muffled shouts echoed down the hallway through shut doors. The shouts grew louder, and he could’ve sworn he heard English.

  Acorso swiped a finger down one side of his slate and opened a call to Bi’mal. The line pulsed, but she didn’t answer as banging echoed down the hallway.

  “I can’t work like this,” Acorso muttered, squaring his shoulders and going to the doors. One burst open just before he reached it and Lo’thar bumped into the doctor, knocking him off his feet and sending his slates everywhere.

  The Dotari wore dirty combat armor and clutched vials in one hand.

  “Acorso?” Lo’thar looked at him in a near panic. “Where is my daughter?”

  “Look at you. You should know better—we have strict decontamina—”

  “Where is my little girl!” Lo’thar’s cry echoed off the walls.

  Acorso pointed down the hallway.

  “Room seven.”

  Lo’thar ran past the doctor, nearly slipping as he made the sharp turn into the doorway.

  Hoffman, in even worse-looking armor, helped Acorso off the floor.

  “Who the hell are you? What’s the meaning of all this?” Acorso smoothed out his
white lab coat with as much dignity as he could muster.

  “Armor’s normally supposed to be the cavalry.” Hoffman motioned behind him to a Dotari in red doctor’s robes trimmed in gold thread, which Acorso had never seen before. The Dotari moved with a sense of dignity and purpose unlike the medical personnel he normally worked with.

  “But as a Strike Marine, I’ll fill in,” Hoffman said. “Come on. Lo’thar said you’d want to see this.”

  “See what?” Acorso asked.

  “A miracle.” Hoffman took the human doctor by the elbow and led him to the room.

  Inside, Lo’thar knelt beside a bed. Monitoring equipment beeped around a painfully thin Dotari girl, and air lines ran into her nose and down her throat. Lo’thar clutched her hand in his; the cluster of vials lay atop the blankets.

  “How is she?” Hoffman took a post against the wall.

  “Stage four,” Acorso said quietly. “She lost consciousness days ago. There’s nothing I can do but keep her comfortable…but if Lo’thar’s here…and you’re here. There were rumors about the Breitenfeld.”

  “Gott Mit Uns,” Hoffman said.

  The Dotari doctor with the gold-embroidered robes entered the room. He warbled something in Dotari and touched his fingers to the edge of his beak.

  “Trin’a,” Lo’thar ran his hand down the side of her face, “Daddy is here now.”

  The Dotari doctor pressed his shoulder to Acorso’s and looked at him with a glint in his eye.

  “Dr. Acorso, I presume?” the Dotari asked with an accent Acorso had never heard before.

  “Correct. I don’t believe we’ve met. And I thought I knew every physician on the planet.”

  “Jin’al.” His quills rustled. “I was Dotari’s chief healer many years ago. Let’s see if I still have my touch.” He pulled a sleeve back, revealing an intricate device similar to the gauntlet Hoffman bore. Wan blue light glowed through looped wire.

  “What on earth?” Acorso asked. “Why have I never seen—”