Last Man Out (Poor Man's Fight Book 5)

by Elliott Kay

  They pressed on fast. Despite their progress and speed, Tanner’s dread only grew. They were assaulting a side door in a hallway without surprise, without cover, and without support. He wasn’t integrated with the rest of his team, unfamiliar with their training and their standards. They were four people with guns desperately rushing a door. It was all bad, and he had no way to correct it. No time. No better ideas. Nothing.

  The archway to the control room awaited ahead. No sentries stood outside. Tanner hissed a warning, identifying the target. He wondered if it had a door at all, or if it was always open. Dylan, Andrade, and Juntasa slowed and spread out with weapons up. Tanner did the same. Dylan raised her hand to give a signal to someone.

  A dark shield swept out from around the archway, this one held higher than normal. Behind and above it glowed the eye of a Regent.

  Tanner dropped. So did Dylan. The Regent’s laser swept across the hallway in a single, steady flash. Juntasa screamed. Andrade’s airburster fired. The Regent staggered back against the frame of the archway behind it, battered by the sudden burst of hypercompressed air against its shield. Masonry cracked under the Regent’s impact, but the thing didn’t fall.

  Dylan fired another pair of covering shots from her riot gun: smoke, then pyro. The former burst against the shield, plunging the doorway into a dark green cloud. The pyro glanced the wrong way, sending more flares and screeching, burning chemicals back out into the corridor. Andrade blasted again. Tanner looked to Juntasa, but he saw only blackened fatigues and skin crumpled in a corner. Too little of her remained for any hope of survival.

  More shields pushed out of the entryway into the hall, filing out like a moving blockade. Enemy fire filled the passage. Again, Andrade let loose with the airburster, this time knocking targets on their backs in a metal tangle. Tanner let his Diamondback rip, keeping up the pressure as best he could.

  Dylan thought better of the riot gun. She tore one of the thermal grenades from her belt, shifting as far out to the right as she could to get a good angle on the smoke-filled archway. Tanner felt a moment’s terror at the thought of the grenade bouncing or being deflected, but her throw was good.

  A stone hand reached out of the cloud of smoke and caught the little orb. The Regent tucked its hand close to its chest and ducked against the outside of the entryway, heedless of its comrades on the deck.

  Even with the Regent’s body as a barrier, the bright flash of the thermal caused a flare over the eye protection of Tanner’s visor. Three thousand degrees exploded against the Regent’s torso, sending it flying backward into the opposite corridor wall. Sentinels screamed in pain amid a shower of instantly melted debris. The blast even swept away most of the smoke.

  One sentinel held it together better than the rest. Smoke trailed from joints in his armor as he rose from the floor to throw his shield over the worst of the glowing debris. He wasn’t the only survivor. The Regent struggled to gather itself again. Even with a thermal grenade detonating against its belly, the thing still moved.

  Andrade poured on the pain. Another blast from his airburster close to the ground sent guards and debris tumbling down the corridor away from the entrance. Along the side of the wall, Dylan reloaded the riot gun. She hadn’t missed the survival of the charred Regent.

  The gap was clear. They couldn’t keep fighting in the hallway. Trouble would come from behind any moment. “Andrade, cover the rear,” Tanner warned. He surged forward, pulling a grenade of his own from the belt salvaged from the crash site outside. Mindfully, he chose a fragmentation grenade, not wanting to be anywhere near a thermal detonation.

  He reached the entryway as another shield filled up half the space. Tanner slammed his shoulder against the shield and lobbed the grenade over it, then gave the shield another shove to push himself away. Unlike his opponent, Tanner knew to duck behind the side of the archway. The sentinel only fought to keep his footing.

  Another explosion shook the air. The sentinel fell out of the entryway onto the floor. With the sounds of Dylan’s riot gun and Andrade’s airburster going behind him, Tanner moved inside and kept low.

  Aside from the haze of smoke and fizzling bits of chaff on the floor, the broad, rounded room looked the same as before. Nothing had yet closed off the pavilion at the other side. In the main chamber between the entrance and the pavilion, the same images of cities and skylines floated over meter-tall obelisks. More than one image depicted the planet from somewhere in orbit. Tanner thought he saw movement and flashing lights over one hemisphere, but he could spare only a glance.

  Others moved in here. Some could be armed. Any if not all could be dangerous. He couldn’t know which. Regardless, they’d all helped in an attack that killed thousands.

  He’d been here before.

  Two bursts from his Diamondback put down the coughing, hunched over Minoans in black tunics to his right. He swept left behind a hip-level obelisk full of lights to put down another moving body, this one coming at him in a rush. Tanner kept low and looked for more. He’d counted about two dozen Minoans the first time he’d been in here, along with at least a pair of Regents. And their empress.

  Closer into the room now, Tanner stole a quick glance at the pavilion. He noted only a few silhouetted forms through the haze. One such silhouette bore a flaring red dot at its head.

  Tanner leaped away, diving farther to the left from the entryway as red light and heat blazed through his previous spot and shattered the obelisk he’d used for cover. He pushed up from hands and knees as soon as he hit the floor and made another lunge, knowing full well the beam still chased him across the room.

  The thunderous red glow ended as he came down on the deck again. He picked himself up only to spot another form rushing at him, far too close and too fast to stop. A booted foot swept up at his head, knocking him around onto his back and jarring his helmet. That same foot came down at him again before he recovered, slamming the visor halfway off the helmet and turning all of his optical aids to static. He could barely see.

  It wasn’t like he needed to aim for this enemy. Tanner swept his Diamondback up in an arc with his finger on the trigger. Blood fell on him as his attacker collapsed. He tugged the helmet away rather than trying to fuss with it.

  Golden blasts of energy came in, flying high or a little wide but showering him with sparks blown off surrounding surfaces. They knew where he was now. If that Regent was on the move, he was fucked. Tanner’s free hand dropped to the grenade belt on his hip. He had one thermal and one frag left. It would be the only distraction he could create.

  The boom of a riot gun at the entrance gave him a little hope. Dylan moved in and broke to the right. Andrade followed, blasting away with his airburster. It gave Tanner a chance to get to his feet and move to better cover.

  “Malone, we’ve got more incoming,” Dylan warned.

  The airburster roared again. Tanner popped his head up out of cover to find the Regent. His target remained in the pavilion, staggered by Andrade’s weapon. It answered in kind, returning fire with the virtual cannon mounted in its head.

  Andrade never had a chance. The laser all but incinerated him where he stood.

  Too late to save Andrade, Tanner sent a frag grenade toward the pavilion like a shot put. The Regent reacted like the other one in the hallway, reaching out to catch the weapon as it came in. It fell short of a full capture, instead knocking the little device farther into the pavilion. Two Minoans nearby dove out of the space and into the main chamber while the Regent flung itself onto the grenade.

  Long flowing hair and the slight glitter of jewels identified at least one of the Minoans. Tanner had only met her once, but Amara stood out. “She’s here,” Tanner barked, hoping Dylan was still up. “She’s here.”

  Half of the holo projections in the control room had died. A couple others flickered. Smoke hung in the air. “Where?” Dylan called back. Her riot gun boomed again. Someone screamed.

  “My side,” Tanner answered. “Left of the pavilion. Le
ft.”

  “Here,” corrected a voice.

  Tanner spun. Her fist came in first, clipping his jaw. Her other hand grabbed his weapon by the barrel, pushing it away. Turning into the same motion, Tanner threw his elbow into her side. She ignored it, twisting the Diamondback until he had to let it go.

  He spun around her to break their line, putting his other elbow into her kidney. The hit jolted her upright, stiffening her posture. She responded in kind with a sweep of her arm at his head. Tanner barely blocked it. Amara was strong—frighteningly so, and taller, too.

  She turned to face him. Blood flowed from ugly wounds up and down her arms and her side. Either his grenade or Andrade’s airburster had tagged her badly with shrapnel. She didn’t seem to care. Nothing in her cold expression suggested pain or difficulty.

  Across the room, Dylan’s riot gun went off again. She could handle the rest. Tanner had the leader now. He could do this.

  Amara’s fist came in at his face. Tanner evaded with a backward step, pulling the first weapon to come to his hand. She punched at him again, but this time he blocked with his knife. Her fist still crashed through his defense to tag him in the face even with the heated blade embedded in her hand.

  A stomp against his leg staggered him before he could retaliate. Tearing the knife free, Tanner slashed low in hopes of cutting enough of her leg to cripple her. The knife dug deep, but she stayed upright. Her good fist caught his jaw in a hook. Tanner bounced off the wall.

  He meant to use the bounce for momentum. Her fist came in again faster. Pain erupted in his face and the back of his head all at once. Then he saw and felt nothing.

  Chapter Thirty-Six:

  Goalposts

  “Given the costs of recent conflicts and the ongoing economic fallout, the Union’s current defense posture is particularly fragile. We must do whatever we can to avoid conflict with our alien neighbors.”

  --Union Assembly Defense Memorandum (Classified: Highly Secret), August 2280

  Missiles detonated in a ripple across the Minoan dreadnought’s starboard side. Though the dreadnought tried to turn away and opened up with her faster cannons to intercept, the effort did little good. The blasts tore through her armored hull. Wreckage trailed from the vessel as she limped along her previous course, turning to escape.

  “Coragem says her target is inert,” reported a voice. “No further weapons fire, no sign of power to the engines.”

  “Dreadnought Three is backing off from Tianmen. They’re asking if we want them to pursue. Damage on Tianmen is under control. Her escorts are still in good condition. Hengshui is low on missiles, but that’s the worst of it.”

  “Dreadnought Five is falling into the atmosphere!”

  “Give me a visual,” instructed Khatri. One of the main screens flipped to the view from the Union Fleet cruiser Java. As described, a battered Minoan ship drifted backward into the upper atmosphere. Already the vessel bore the halo of super compressed air around its hull.

  Khatri’s lips pressed together in something short of a smile. Her satisfaction came through in her voice. “We’ve got them on the ropes,” she said. “Put one ship from each cruiser escort force on rescue and recovery. We have destroyed and disabled vessels. Let’s not leave any survivors holding on longer than we must.”

  “Is that it?” Naomi asked, still at the back of the bridge with Gina. No one had so much as looked their way in the last few minutes. “Did we win?”

  “We’re still shooting,” said Gina. “I wouldn’t say it’s over.”

  “Any update from the surface?” Khatri asked.

  “Beowulf’s companies are engaged at the capital. Fleet forces should arrive there any minute. Fighting is heavy. Still no contact with local forces. The Lai Wa contingent says they’ve linked up with local security at Redwood. They’re cut off from the rest of the planet but no signs of fighting yet.”

  “And none of them with any way to hear from us,” the admiral fumed. She leaned on the control panel. “They can’t keep sending relay drones through the cloud cover. At some point we’re going to have to send in one of our destroyers if only to establish—”

  “New contact!” called out an urgent voice. “Krokinthian dreadnoughts at zero-four-one by one-two-seven, three hundred twenty klicks out. Two of them just out of FTL.”

  Khatri leaned on a button on the console. “Admiral Branch, break off and move to intercept. We’ll take Monaco with us.” She looked to an aide. “Get Java to break off and follow. We need to get in their way.”

  “A Nyuyinaro pod group dropped in ahead of the Kroks,” added one of the techs.

  “Good,” said Ambassador Young. He had stayed silent near Khatri until now. “Send a wave to them on the usual channel. Let’s hope they’ll talk. Where is Alicia Wong?”

  “She’s on the surface with her platoon, sir,” said one of Beowulf’s officers.

  “Who the hell let that happen?” Young snapped. The ambassador looked back to Naomi and Gina and waved them over. “C’mon. You might be needed.”

  “Us?” Naomi blinked, though she moved forward if only to see and hear better.

  “You’ve met the Minoans face to face. It could come up. Don’t worry, I’ll do the talking.”

  “Nyuyinaro contact established,” announced a signalman. “Audio only. Routing it to your station, admiral.”

  “Union,” came a plainly artificial voice. “We contacted the Krokinthians as we contacted you. The Krokinthians moved fast. We did not expect.”

  “This is Ambassador Young,” said the man at Naomi’s side. “We understand. Are they in contact with you now?”

  “Yes. Where is Alicia?”

  Young tilted his head. Naomi saw an idea spark in his eyes. “She is on the planet fighting the people of Dust. She is protecting our people.”

  “Krokinthian signal,” muttered another of the officers. Naomi only then realized how much quieter the bridge had become. Young held up his hand to put the signal on hold.

  “What do I call you? Can you give me a name?” Young asked.

  “I am Breeze,” said the Nyuyinaro.

  “Translations,” Young sighed. “We’re going to talk to the Krokinthians now. You’ll be included.” With a nod to the officer, Young stepped back and brought his arms out wide. “I speak for the Union. Who are you?” he asked with a stronger voice.

  A hologram blinked into existence in front of him. The image centered on a Krokinthian with almost nothing else around it. The alien was strange enough to look at without a background. Its chitinous, pentagonal form offered no real front or back, but rather five identical faces with an eye in the middle of each portion and a great claw at each end.

  “You know us,” said the Krokinthian. “Our enemy has returned. We will destroy them.”

  “Our people are on the planet. We are here to protect them,” said Young.

  “The people of Dust are a danger to all,” said the alien. “We believed them destroyed. We will not be wrong again. They must be ended before they harm others. They must not leave their world. You should never have rested there.”

  “We did not know,” said Young.

  “Humans lie. We cannot trust you.”

  “Trust what you see. Trust the wreckage behind our ships. Your enemy is also our enemy. They attack our people on the planet. Even now, our people fight them on the surface.”

  “The humans say our friend is among them,” said Breeze. “We believe.”

  “Your friend fights because she is human,” said the Krokinthian.

  “Because she is brave. She fought for one of ours. She would fight for her own,” said Breeze.

  “Humans lie. Dust is more like the Union than us. Humans will join them.”

  “We will not,” said Young. “We cannot.”

  “Why not?”

  Young turned to Naomi, dropping his arms. “Tell them.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Tell them we can’t make a deal. Tell them why. You met
her. Keep it short. Put your arms out like this.”

  “Why…?”

  “It’s to let them know who’s speaking. They can’t tell otherwise.”

  “No, I mean why am I talking? What am I supposed to say?”

  “The truth. Keep it short and simple. Don’t get into the whole story and don’t try for nuance. You’re going through a translator. There’s no time, anyway. Right now they might not be able to tell us and the Minoans apart and they might not even care. Either we stop them from doing this or they bombard the planet from orbit. Or we get in a fight to stop them, which is more likely. And still bad. Arms up.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because it’s the truth.”

  Behind him, Admiral Khatri continued with sharp, quiet orders to her subordinates. Naomi didn’t know what was happening. She swallowed hard, turned to the image of the monstrous alien hovering in front of her, and put her arms out wide to speak for all of humanity to two alien races.

  “I have seen the—I have met the Minoan leader. The, er, leader of the people of Dust,” Naomi corrected. “They were in hiding underground. We did not know they were there until this fight began. We did not know they still existed. We thought they died long ago.”

  “We thought so then,” said the Krokinthian. “We believed it finished. We will correct that mistake now.”

  “You mean to wipe them out?”

  “We will kill them all.”

  “You can’t—that’s genocide! That’s what they want, too! How is this reasonable?”

  “Don’t get into it,” Young counseled quietly.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” she snapped at him.

  “One thing at a time,” he told her. “Breathe. Breathe.”

  “We do not understand,” said the Krokinthian.

  Naomi blinked. Young nodded at her arms, still raised to her sides. She bit back a dozen more profanities. “The people of Dust attack our people. Their leader said to me she will wipe out all of our people on the planet. We have to protect them. If you attack Dust, you will attack us, too.