by Rick Partlow
“This is Lt. Fields in Medical,” a reply finally came over the intercom.
“We need a team up here immediately,” Minishimi snapped. “We have one crewmember with a possible brain hemorrhage and others that may be injured as well.”
“Aye, ma’am,” Fields said. “We’ll get someone up there as soon as we can. Things are…bad down here.”
“I understand, Lieutenant,” Minishimi said with a resigned sigh. “Commander Infante,” she switched to the line to Engineering. “What’s our situation?”
There was no reply for a moment, and Minishimi glanced around to see that Franks was conscious. “Are you all right, Lt. Franks?”
“As far as I know, Captain,” he told her. A glance around showed that no one else was awake and coherent yet, although Commander Lee was shaking her head, trying to clear it.
“This is Commander Infante,” the Chief Engineer’s voice came over the bridge speakers. “Captain, we all seem to be okay here…no casualties. I am trying to get a look into the Engineering compartment now…oh dear.”
That doesn’t sound good, Franks thought morosely.
“Captain,” Infante reported, “the main trunk lines exploded and the entire compartment is pretty much destroyed. From what I can tell from our remote sensors, the Eysselink drive pods are nonfunctional-to be honest, I’m not even sure they’re there anymore. The antimatter fuel pods have ejected and the fusion reactor has completely flushed. I may be able to get the reactor back up, but it’s going to take hours to re-route the power feeds. Sorry, ma’am, but we’re driftwood.”
Minishimi was silent for a moment, and in that time, Larry Gianeto had managed to reboot the Tactical station and unfold the backup display screen. “Captain,” he spoke up, “I just picked up multiple fusion explosions about 400 kilometers from us, 600 klicks from the enemy ship.” He frowned. “Ma’am, I think he took out our missiles.”
“Damn,” the Captain said softly. “Lt. Reno, send a message to Fleet Headquarters. Tell them that we and the Sheridan are both disabled but the enemy cruiser’s field is down, at least temporarily. Tell them they have to launch everything they have at it, before it can start taking out our cities…”
“Ma’am,” Gianeto interrupted her. “The Sheridan is boosting on her fusion drive.”
Minishimi’s head snapped around, her eyes wide. Franks knew what she was thinking: the ship’s life pods had already evacuated, along with her remaining landers and shuttles. Whoever had stayed behind was doing exactly what she had intended to do: trying to save the crew.
“The enemy ship is launching on the Sheridan!” Gianeto announced. “Two Shipbusters, ma’am.”
“Captain,” Lt. Reno said, “we have an incoming communication.”
“Is it Fleet HQ?” she asked, feeling numb and helpless.
“No, ma’am,” Reno told her, shaking his head. “It’s General McKay.”
* * *
“Listen to me, Commander Kent,” McKay growled into the cockpit mic, “I don’t give a flying fuck about your procedures or your regulations. There is a Protectorate cruiser in orbit and the only thing that’s going to keep it from bombarding our population is if we can get the defense lasers operational.”
“Sir, I understand that,” the harried officer replied, “but I can’t target anything without access to the system and we don’t have that!”
“And I’m telling you that you don’t need to target anything, Mister…I will be giving you the coordinates and you will be firing that damn laser like it was God Himself telling you where to shoot. And if you don’t, and if you are unfortunate enough to survive what happens next, I will find you, Commander George Kent and I will make you wish you’d died in something as painless as a fusion explosion.” Beside McKay, in the lander’s pilot’s seat, Esme Villanueva grinned with appreciation.
McKay cut the connection without waiting to hear a reply, then switched over to another frequency. “Bradley, this is General McKay, do you read?”
“McKay, this is Captain Minishimi,” he heard her familiar voice over the cockpit speakers. “Do you have control of the defense system?”
“No, but neither do they,” he told her. “We have contact with the maintenance crews of the lasers, though-if you can feed me the targeting coordinates, I can get them to the right station and take out that damn cruiser.”
“McKay,” Minishimi interrupted, “the Sheridan is under power, she’s heading for the cruiser and the enemy ship just launched a pair of Shipbusters at her…you need to target the missiles immediately! I’m sending you a targeting vector now.”
“Shit,” McKay muttered. Hitting a slow-moving cruiser was one thing; hitting a missile moving at a dozen gravities acceleration was going to be much trickier. “All right, let’s hope we can make this work…”
* * *
Arvid Patel hit a control on his ‘link and set it on the console by his right hand.
“Dad?” The voice sounded so different than the last time he’d heard it, so much deeper and older.
“Hello, Abshay,” Patel said, trying to keep his voice casual as he stared at the icons of the fusion missiles boosting towards him on the screen. “Are you safe?”
“Yes, sir,” Abshay assured him. “They have us in a shelter here at the Academy. I…I didn’t know you were back insystem, sir. Is the fighting over, then?”
“Not quite yet, son. Soon, I think.” Patel cleared his throat to keep from choking up. “So, I have not been able to speak with you for a long time…I just wanted to make sure you are all right. Does school go well?”
“It’s fine, Dad,” Abshay told him, his tone sounding a bit puzzled at the train of the conversation. “Expectations are high, of course…it isn’t easy walking in your footsteps.”
“Oh, don’t do that, Abshay,” Patel couldn’t hold back the tears now, or the crack in his voice. “Make your own path and you will be twice the man I ever was.”
“Dad?” Abshay said, sounding worried. “Is everything all right?”
Patel opened his mouth to answer…and let it hang open as he watched a brightly glowing track of superionized atmosphere trace a line up from the ground in less than an eyeblink, disappearing as the air thinned to near vacuum, but still simulated by the ship’s Tactical computer as it intersected the route of the lead Shipbuster and speared directly through its fusion drive. The missile disappeared into a miniature star that swallowed up the second Shipbuster as well for a long moment, until it emerged from the huge ball of superheated gas charred and dead, its drives inactive, its course changed from the explosion.
“Yes, Abshay.” Admiral Patel smiled as he answered his son’s question. “I think things are all right. I have some work to do, though. I love you, and I am proud of you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
Patel was still smiling as he cut the connection.
* * *
“The Shipbusters are gone!” Gianeto announced, excitement in his voice.
“McKay,” Minishimi called, “they got the missiles! Tell them they need to shift aim to the cruiser!” She motioned to Gianeto and he nodded, sending a transmission from his station to Communications. “The coordinates are on the way.”
Drew Franks and Commander Lee were both hanging over Gianeto’s shoulder, trying to follow the battle on the small emergency screen at the Tactical station, which was why the younger officer was still looking when Gianeto had turned away to transmit the coordinates. “Captain!” Franks exclaimed. “The cruiser is turning on her axis!”
Gianeto’s head snapped back to the screen and he touched the screen, magnifying the view of the enemy ship. The image showed the massive vessel slowly spinning end for end, the minute flares of her maneuvering thrusters visible at her bow and stern.
“She’s realigning her weapons pods,” the Tactical officer realized. “Captain, I think she’s…”
Sunlight twinkled off of a long chain of silvery beads that shot out of the cruiser’s weapons pod
s, each the size of a groundcar.
“She’s firing her Gauss cannons!” Gianeto said. “She’s firing at a planetary target…”
“She’s targeting the lasers,” Franks said, grim certainty in his voice.
“The optics are all shielded and underground, aren’t they?” Lee asked.
“They don’t have to destroy the optics,” Minishimi told her, biting back a curse. “All they need to do is block the emitters. It’s an easy fix, but it will still take time…and that leaves them free to destroy the Sheridan…and us.”
“Captain!” Lt. Reno said. “I have Captain Fox from Fleet HQ on the line. He says they’ve launched a Shipbuster at the enemy cruiser, but it’s going to be almost a half hour till it gets there.”
“One?” Franks blurted, aghast. “Is he saving them for a fucking special occasion?”
“You know Captain Fox,” Minishimi reminded him, shaking her head, too disgusted to even reprove him for his language. “That station is his baby. He’s saving them for the rest of the Protectorate fleet we left out there. We’re lucky he granted us the one.”
“If we live through this,” Franks promised with a half-snarl, “I’m going to have to make a concerted effort to see he’s reassigned to a post more in concert with his abilities.”
You’re just a Lieutenant! Franks reminded himself silently. Then, with a cold amusement, Not if we survive this you won’t be.
“The Sheridan is still heading for the enemy ship,” Gianeto reminded them, staring intently at the screen, as if afraid to turn away again. “She’s at two g’s acceleration now.”
“Lt. Reno,” Minishimi instructed, “try to raise the Sheridan. I want to know who’s piloting that ship.”
* * *
“The Australia defense laser is down, General,” the voice of Captain De Ndinge came over the cockpit speakers of the lander. “We have reports from the maintenance crew that the damage is not too extensive and it should be repaired in a matter of less than an hour, but…”
“I understand Captain,” McKay said. “Patch me through to Mojave…that’ll be the next station the ship passes over.”
“This is Mojave Laser Launch Station,” a female voice said. “Lt. Commander Botha here, sir.”
“Commander Botha,” McKay said clearly but rapidly, “the enemy cruiser is going to be passing through your cone of fire in about a minute and he’s going to be firing on you with KE weapons the second he does. I’m going to relay targeting coordinates to you and I need you to fire along that vector until you can’t fire any more, do you understand?”
“Will do, sir,” the officer said, refreshingly without argument. “Waiting on target vectors.”
“We’re keeping him busy, sir,” Vinnie commented as McKay sent the information stream, “but what are we keeping him busy for? A couple of seconds of laser fire isn’t going to destroy that ship, and sooner or later we’re going to run out of lasers.”
“We’re keeping his attention,” Jason McKay said bitterly, not looking up at him, “to give one of my best friends time to commit suicide.”
* * *
“Arvid, can you hear me?”
Patel recognized the voice immediately, even with the roaring in his ears from the high-g burn. He smiled thinly and touched the control to transmit. “Hello Jason,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the image of the enemy ship on the screen. “I’m glad you’re still in one piece. I hope Senator O’Keefe and her daughter are safe.”
“They’re fine, Arvid. But we weren’t able to get the controller intact…it was destroyed in the fight.”
“That…was always a longshot,” Patel allowed, grunting with the effort of taking a breath.
“Admiral…it’s not too late to get out of there. Set the controls and get in a lifepod. It’ll still work.” McKay’s voice didn’t sound pleading…the man was too good to allow that. No, it sounded reasonable, like someone giving you good advice.
“Trust me, Jason…I’d love to.” Another deep, pained breath. “But she’s going to try evasive maneuvers…got to be here when she does.”
There was silence for a long moment. The enemy ship was growing larger on the screen. As he watched, another laser pierced the sky, this time striking the cruiser on its armored nose, and a glowing cloud of superhot, vaporized nickel iron surrounded the monolithic ship before its coilguns spoke again, sending massive shells downward at hypersonic speeds. The armor on the ship’s bow was thick, but Patel could see it running off like liquid in the long seconds it took the Gauss artillery to reach their target. Then the laser fire ceased and the cruiser hung there, leaking burning atmosphere, partially blinded by the loss of its forward sensors, but still alive.
“Is there anything I can do?” McKay finally asked.
“Two things, Jason,” Patel replied after a moment’s thought. “First of all, I want you to swear to me that you’ll see this through to the finish, no matter where it takes you or who gets hurt.” A ragged breath. “This went too far and too high and for too long. Something isn’t right and I don’t know how, but we need to discover what.”
“You’ve got it, Admiral.” McKay assured him. “I’ll work that bone like a bulldog. What else?”
“Keep an eye on Abshay. Give him the advice you always gave me.” Patel drew in a gasping, painful breath. “Make sure he has someone to turn to. You’re his hero, you know.”
”You’re his hero, Admiral,” McKay declared, his voice finally breaking. “And that’s one of the first pieces of advice I’m going to give him. But not the last.”
“Ah, he is finally making his move,” Patel noticed. The enemy cruiser’s maneuvering jets were flaring and she was swapping end for end, leaving her less vulnerable fusion drive plates to face the next laser in line, the Long Island laser. Meanwhile, a large missile, the size of a Shipbuster but sleeker and obviously intended for use in a thick atmosphere, moved into the launch rail of the port weapons pod.
“They’re loading a space-to-ground missile,” the Admiral informed him. “Not one of our designs. Too big to be conventional.”
McKay’s grunt sounded as if he’d been punched in the stomach. “Probably a multiple-warhead fusion missile,” he reasoned, his tone hopeless. “With the defense network down, we’ll have no way to stop it.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jason,” Patel said, smiling as he heard the proximity alarms start to sound. “He’s about to be too distracted to fire it.” He saw the cruiser’s fusion drive light as the enemy tried desperately to move to a higher orbit, to get out of his way…
“No, tovarisch,” he whispered, using his own maneuvering thrusters to stay on target. “It’s far too late for that…”
“Arvid?” McKay asked, pain and sorrow in his voice.
“Goodbye, Jason,” Patel said. “Thank you for being my friend…whether I deserved it or not.”
* * *
Two medics treated Lt. Bevins, exchanging information and instructions in quiet mutters, but other than that, the bridge of the Bradley was silent. All other eyes were focused on the small backup Tactical screen, where the Sheridan was roaring toward the enemy cruiser, riding a star-bright plasma flame.
Drew Franks had never met Admiral Arvid Patel, but all he could think, watching with rapt attention as history unfolded before him, was that he wished he could trade places with the man. He wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted to spare a great man and a great leader from this fate…or because he knew that the name Arvid Patel would never be forgotten. He felt like he should be disturbed by that notion, but for some reason he was comfortable with it.
When the two nearly-identical ships merged with atom-shattering finality, shining a new sun over a darkened world, he could hear Captain Minishimi quietly sobbing behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to mourn. Admiral Patel would live forever.
Chapter Forty-Eight
There should be screaming, Shannon thought numbly. Biomechs were swarming up the ditch over the piled bodies of th
eir fellows, climbing over the fallen corpses of the defenders, young men and women barely out of their teens who would never live to see their second battle. Others were running back to their secondary positions, where the few that remained were taking up as much cover as they could, waiting to sell their lives as expensively as they could.
Bullets and grenade fragments crisscrossed the open field, slicing through natural-born and lab-grown flesh and bone without prejudice, and yet she couldn’t hear a single scream. The helmets held them in, bottled them up, shut them out. The men and women all fell as silently as the biomechs they fought, as if they were all automatons. But there was, Shannon knew, one key difference between them beyond their ability to independently reason: numbers.
Between the CeeGee trainees and the brief orbital bombardment, Shannon estimated they’d killed over half the biomech army. Unfortunately, that meant there were nearly ten thousand of them left, against less than 300 of the CeeGee officer candidates, their trainers and the half a dozen Special Operations troops still standing…or shooting at least, even if they couldn’t stand.
Crouching behind the cover of a low earthen wall, trying to organize what remained, Shannon felt an insane guilt that she was still alive. She shook it off, watching the oncoming horde of inhuman troops and reflecting that soon she’d have nothing at all for which to feel guilty.
“Colonel Stark,” General Kage said from where he was half-crouched, half-sitting a few meters away, his words clear in her helmet’s headphones despite the din of battle. “I do not believe we can hold this time.”
“I believe you’re right, sir,” she said simply, firing off the last few rounds from her magazine into a biomech only thirty meters away. “We have to pull back, save what we can.” She turned to face him, his eyes barely visible through his faceplate in the grey, pre-dawn light. “You lead the retreat, General…I’ll stay here with my people and try to cover you.”
“Shannon,” another transmission interrupted her conversation. It was Jason, and the sound of it flooded her with relief. He’s alive, she thought gratefully. At least one of us will make it through this. “Shannon, do you read?”