“You’re sure they will?”
Harry nodded. “I know them, remember? It’s a matter of pride. Choosing to have us as their warlords – we serve only with their consent – is infinitely better for them than living under Dactari rule. They’ll hand over the revenue, but you have to keep the exact nature of the relationship in mind at all times.” He pointed his glass toward Lothbrok. “Tauhento will be the most powerful, most lucrative fief in the Midgaard sphere of influence but you are strictly the military leader. They’ll retain their own judiciary and their own elected senate. All you need to worry yourself with is accepting revenue and fighting.”
“Sounds perfect to me! The last thing I want to do is sit in judgement over petty squabbles. I wish my other two fiefs were so easy to administer. To the turning point,” Lothbrok held up his glass toward Harry in a toast. “Within a month, we’ll go from slow decay to steady growth.”
Harry’s glass was still ringing from the contact when an explosion sounded beneath them. The bar lurched to port as glassware and passengers were flung violently about. A server who had been placing drinks on a table, only ten feet away, overbalanced in a foolish attempt to hold his tray and fell sideways over the railing. As the vehicle continued to rotate, Harry caught sight of several passengers falling to their deaths.
The starboard engines moaned in protest as they were pushed far past their red lines. The building that slid past them was pulsating as the metal window supports were rhythmically pulled outwards, fragments of heavy glass sent to follow the doomed passengers. Somewhere in the back of Harry’s mind, he realized that it meant the port engine was still spinning but it had lost part of the array as well as all of its field attenuators. It was undoubtedly interfering with the starboard engine now, alternately cancelling and enhancing the field of the already strained engine.
Was the explosion the result of a damaged engine, or the cause of it? He suddenly remembered the lone Midgaard who had boarded the vehicle only to leave it moments later. Sabotage… He felt a sudden hand on his shoulder. Lothbrok had climbed out of his chair and was now standing on the central leg of their table.
“That platform,” he yelled in Harry’s ear pointing down to a boarding platform on the side of the building where a group of horrified faces looked back at them.
They watched as the faces grew closer, quickly accelerating. This would be their only chance to jump and live. If this chance passed them by, they would be moving too fast by the time another opportunity presented itself.
The uncontrolled field began to interact with the crowd, catching up any metal and dragging it – and its owners – across the platform. Several were swept across the edge and flung out into the heavy traffic, bouncing off vehicles to fall, unconscious now, to their demise. One lucky individual landed atop a container train.
“Now!” Lothbrok screamed and launched himself forward.
Harry followed and just barely managed to clear the opening between vehicle and building. He hit the concrete platform hard and tumbled into the legs of a local office worker. The heavyset Weiran man landed on Harry’s chest, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He lay there wheezing as he watched Lothbrok talking to an attractive young woman who had been knocked down near the back wall. Somehow, he had contrived to roll into her lap.
Paved With Good Intentions
Mutiny
The Midway, Weirfall Orbit
Dwight was sitting in a small conference room behind the bridge, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him. He was desperately trying to get his tablet to synch with the screen on the wall by the door before Towers and Strauss arrived. Figures, he grumbled to himself. The one time I show up with actual, calculated projections, I can’t link to a screen.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the display flicker and he looked up with a relief that was short-lived. The screen was showing the layout of a ship, the text box in the upper right corner proclaiming her to be the Guadalcanal. All carriers were named for famous battles.
What the hell?
The door opened and Hunter, the flag captain, stopped at the head of the table, looking at the image on the screen with a nod before moving to the far side of the room. A grey-haired Marine colonel walked in with Admiral Towers a few seconds later, a Navy commander and two men in EVA suits trailing them.
They didn’t even seem to notice him.
“What’s the quickest route from the outer hull to the engineering section?” Towers demanded.
Walking over to the screen, the commander reached out to draw a circle around a part of the diagram. “These emergency vent ports lead straight into the reactor compartments. You should be able to use a small, shaped charge without destabilizing the plasma containment.”
“Should?” The colonel had crammed a full complement of misgivings into that one syllable.
The commander nodded. “I’d better go with them, sir.” A deep breath. “We need to place them in a pretty specific spot if we’re going to take her back in one piece.”
Towers looked at the Marine. “Your team ready?”
“They’re sitting in the shuttle right now, just waiting for the order.” He nodded at the two suited men. “Captain Fergusson and Sergeant Baird can be down there in ten minutes. They’ll brief the men on the way over there.”
Towers nodded. “Commander, we’ll have a suit put aboard the shuttle. See that you’re in it by the time the hatch opens. We’ll feed the reserves through whatever opening you make. Get moving, gentlemen.”
The commander and the two Marines raced out the door.
“Wish to hell I knew what they were thinking over there,” the colonel grumbled.
“That’s the worst thing about a mutiny,” Towers stood by the screen, staring at the red circle left by the commander. “They have their backs to the wall so there’s no telling what they’ll do next. Desperate men will do just about anything.”
“There’s no good side to this mess,” Hunter added. “Even when we retake the ship, we’ll still have to inoculate the crew and then punish the ones that live through it, except for the trainees, of course.” The Guadalcanal was hosting the fleet’s combat shuttle program.
“Which brings me to the reason why you didn’t get kicked out of this room a few minutes ago, Doctor.” Towers turned his gaze on Dwight. “The Guadalcanal,” he indicated the image on the screen. “Over nine thousand crew and they’ve seized control from the officers. A lot of them are refusing to take the shot, enough to make a mutiny work. There’s thirty five thousand Marines aboard as well, and they’re all locked away on the hangar deck – one move against the mutiny and they depressurize the whole thing.”
“How soon can we do a massive push and get all the ships inoculated in one big wave?” Hunter cut in.
Dwight looked down at his tablet. Somehow, his projections seemed an inadequate response. He looked back helplessly at the three grim men who stared at him.
“Distortion alert!” the speakers blared out. The three men raced out of the room, leaving Dwight sitting in his chair. He had been rescued by the alarm, but his curiosity wouldn’t let him sneak back to his lab until he learned what was happening and so he decided to follow them.
“It’s the Guadalcanal, sir. She’s firing up her main drives,” a junior officer called out as the senior officers raced past.
Dwight joined them on the bridge wing, looking out at the heavy cruiser on the port side. He squinted involuntarily as he noticed a series of small flashes along the other vessel’s starboard side.
“Multiple contacts, headings all converging on our location,” the speakers announced.
“Are they firing Mosquitoes at us?” the colonel blurted in surprise. “Running off is one thing but to actually fire on us?”
“Contacts are escape pods. Fifteen units, one hundred twenty-four crew trackers aboard,” the speakers clarified.
“One of the pods is hailing us,” the communications officer advised.
“Open a channel.” Towers poin
ted to the speaker on the bulkhead above him. After a brief pause, a layer of faint static filled the room. “Escape pod, this is Admiral Towers. Who am I speaking to?”
“Sir, this is Captain Ulrich.” The voice sounded exhausted. “They took almost everyone who wasn’t part of the mutiny and put us aboard the pods.”
“Almost?”
“They went through the lineup and pulled out the engineering staff. The whole reactor team is being forced to remain against their will.” A short pause and then the anguished voice returned. “They’re going to run for it, sir.”
Dwight looked at the faces around him. The Marine was red with anger but Hunter looked like a man afraid of Dwight’s infamous shots. He’s probably imagining how easily it could have been him in that pod. Losing your ship in combat was one thing; losing it to your own crew was quite another. Other captains would doubtless avoid Ulrich like the plague, irrationally afraid that his bad fortune might be contagious.
“The Guadalcanal is jumping,” the sensor coordinator announced.
Dwight turned back to the window. The renegade ship was shimmering, parts appearing in disjointed locations as the space around her began to distort.
And then she was gone.
Towers turned to him, his voice barely under control. “Can you start up a second lab?”
Dwight nodded dumbly.
“Then start a second lab. Hell, start ten of them if it’ll speed up the process. If you need more room, I’ll shut down part of the hangar deck for you. Just get it done, Doctor.”
“Yes, sir,” Dwight managed. “I’ll go see Dr. Strauss right now about getting some more bio-reactors from the Weirans.”
“Have him meet you on the hangar deck with enough shots for the crew on those pods,” Towers cut in. “Then you can talk about increasing your production. I want this done in two weeks. You hear me?”
“But just getting a reactor up to speed is going…”
“Two weeks!” Towers roared. “Now get down to the hangar and vaccinate those men before they come down with the plague.”
His ears on fire, Dwight turned and raced for the exit. His pride burned as he headed for the aft risers. That had been his first encounter with the admiral’s legendary temper. He had begun to think it was just one of those stories that got embellished with every telling.
The worst of it was that he had simply scampered out of the room like a frightened child. It wasn’t his proudest moment and the entire bridge staff had seen it. Some of them were probably joking about it right now.
He sighed as he stopped by the entry to the riser, fighting to control the turbulent emotions that constantly bubbled, just beneath the surface of consciousness. It’s not like I don’t deserve far worse, he told himself. Hundreds had already died during the fleet inoculation program but Billions had already died on Earth.
A part of him wanted to blame Dr. Narcisse, who had assumed control of the longevity program after the death of Dr. Mortensen. Narcisse had pushed them into the live trials several weeks early. The mutability of the retrovirus might have been discovered in time if they had carried on with the tissue samples but Mortensen had died and Narcisse had thrown caution to the wind.
Even if he spread the blame evenly among the other researchers, they were still each the worst mass murderers in Human history.
What was a little humiliation, compared to what he deserved?
He looked down at his tablet, trying to remember what he was supposed to use it for. Strauss.
He opened the paging menu and requested the Doctor join him on the hangar deck, using the text box to add that they had one hundred and twenty four patients to inoculate. Closing the menu, he stepped into the shaft to begin his descent.
A Failed ‘Pinch’
The Völund, Krorian Orbit
Harry lowered his hand from where it had shielded his eyes. The brilliant flash of the self-destructing station was already fading, leaving spots in his vision. Spots, or the small army of escape pods that had left the Dactari logistics station only moments ago, he couldn’t tell yet. He looked over at Walter Schirra, sitting in the pilot’s seat of the small shuttle. “Shut her down, Wally.” He rubbed his eyes. “We won’t be going anywhere this morning.”
“Shuttle, Bridge,” Carol’s voice interrupted. “Those pods are heading straight for us, they’re inside the Mosquito envelope. I’m going to guns.”
“Bloody hell!” Liam Kennedy released his restraints and activated a ship wide channel. “All hands, action stations. Stand by to repel boarders! All hands, action stations!” The sounds of gunnery began to vibrate throughout the ship.
Harry suppressed an angry curse. He should have given that order. Major Kennedy’s quick thinking may well have saved the ship from a humiliating capture. Harry was still too focused on the disappointment of their failure. They had been so close to capturing the station. Get your head out of your ass and get back to the bridge.
He filed out the back of the craft behind the twenty-five Marines who had been waiting to board the enemy facility. Liam led them out into the companionway but stopped and held up his hand, his fist tightly closed. His men split up and moved to crouch at alternating sides of the passageway.
Harry moved up to Liam, who held a finger to his lips and pointed at the wall. There was a definite crackling sound and some of the interior hull plates were starting to discolor and buckle.
The escape pods were using their arc-sealers to attach to the Völund’s hull. The fact that they had passed the shields so easily meant that they had finally found a way to copy the shield arrays that the Humans had been using for their Mosquito warheads. That was a thought that Harry would have to file away for later consideration.
“There was a troop ship docked at that station,” Harry whispered in the major’s ear. “They may have pulled the soldiers into the station to defend it, which means they probably loaded onto those pods before setting the self-destruct.”
“Lieutenant Horrocks,” Liam whispered hoarsely, bringing the young man forward. “Those pods are carrying soldiers. Take twenty of the men and search for boarding points. Leave five at each. Go quickly now.”
“Sir!” The young officer quickly chose four fire teams and moved off, leaving Liam with five men.
“Their pods are self-sealing, just like ours,” Liam whispered. “When they cut a hole, we toss in a flash-bang first,” he said, pointing at the closest man, “then Michaels and Jones will step to the opening and open fire. Helmets closed, lads.” Though the Dactari shuttle could seal holes automatically, it would still leak while doing so and a sustained burst of weapon fire hitting one spot could conceivably overload the capacity of the sealing gel and leave a permanent breach.
Harry closed his helmet as the Marines took their positions on the flanks of the large discolored ring on the side of the passageway. The ring began to turn a dull red.
“Here they come!”
The dull red quickly became a brilliant yellow as the fabric of the hull began to drip and run onto the deck plating. A ring of bright flame finally burst through the wall as the ceramic ring containing a mix of reacting oxides was pushed through by the pod’s hydraulic rams. The metal oxides burned at temperatures high enough to melt any hull and the four-foot disc of metal and composites fell to the deck with a harsh clang. Harry realized he was unarmed and he quickly pulled his Colt out, rotating the cocking handle to insert the first round.
The first Marine deployed his flash-bang and stepped out of the way, leaving room for the next two men to step up and fire into the small pod. Even in his EVA suit, Harry could feel the concussion of the stun grenade. He could only imagine its effects in the enclosed environment of the pod.
It was over almost before it began. Michaels and Jones ceased firing and Jones slid his submachine gun back into its chest holster. He drew his sidearm and swung himself into the opening, taking care to avoid the cooling cross section of the hull. There were a few single shots and then he slid back out.
“Packed to the gunnels, sir,” he confirmed. “Thirteen soldiers in a pod meant for six.”
The exterior gunnery had fallen silent, but a lighter beat began to pick up the slack as the distant sound of assault weapons reached their ears.
“Bridge, this is Sergeant Willems,” a loud voice sounded in Harry’s earpiece. “We have at least twenty hostiles trying to reach the engineering sections. If we withdraw any further, we risk damage to the main plant.”
Just as Harry was grabbing Liam by the shoulder, planning to order him aft with his last fire team, another voice intruded. “Captain, this is Commander Cernan,” Carol began. “Be advised, we are dropping the forward shielding to bring Midgaard reinforcements in through the hangar bay.”
Harry and Liam both turned to look through the bay window. Sure enough, a Midgaard cruiser, one of Lothbrok’s vessels, completely filled the view through the open bay exit. As the two men watched, she pushed in against the Völund, the plates of the two ships buckling with a massive shriek. The shock of the impact ran up their legs.
“Get moving, Major,” Harry ordered. “Take some of the pressure off Willems’ men aft. I’ll bring our allies up behind you.” He turned back in time to see the reinforcements exiting their ship through a side hatch. Roughly forty warriors poured into the hangar and moved to the door by Harry as their ship pulled back, dragging tangled sheets of metal until they parted and tumbled away.
“They’re aboard,” Harry reported. “Raise the forward shields and repressurize the bay.
It was maddening, watching the pressure readout by the bay doors while his crew was fighting against a determined boarding party. The Midgaard troops on the far side had collected by the door and waited in silence.
After what had to be only seconds but seemed like a lifetime, Harry decided the difference would be small enough and he smashed the glass below the readout and pulled a toggle to override the door safeties. He hit the ‘open’ button and the doors slid aside. Harry was caught in a sudden hurricane-force wind and found himself staggering into the lead Midgaard before the pressures equalized between the bay and the rest of the ship.
The Orphan Alliance Page 8