March of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  He heard an approving rumble from the crew around him, and then he uttered the words he’d never expected to say again.

  “This is the captain. That is all.”

  He handed the set back to Chen.

  “Lieutenant Micah, you’re the XO. I’m going to leave all ship systems as they are, including gravity, just in case the rebels are monitoring us for major engineering changes. I want them to think we’re headless and confused. Go to the hangar and sort our people out. Send the twenty volunteers to strike storage for weapons and armor.”

  “Yes, sir.” John headed for the door.

  “Sublieutenant Wi, status of the Hawks?”

  “Two are fueled and armed with missiles, the third is being prepped, but it only has one engine and can’t sustain interior atmo.” He frowned. “We’ve lost comms with Spinner-Three, who was on patrol when the attack happened.”

  Thomas nodded. He’d hoped their patrolling Hawk could have been their eyes and ears.

  “Sublieutenant Oaks, I want you on the damage control net. DC is the only shipwide comms system we have that’s already manned and can’t be hacked by the rebels. You’ll keep me posted on enemy incursions based on hatch movements.” He raised his voice. “Medic!” He patted Hayley on the shoulder. “Get that head glued back together first.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sublieutenant Wi,” he said, motioning Chen to follow him a few steps away from the main display. “I need your brains. Is there anywhere else on the ship that can act as a central control for sensors and weapons?”

  Chen thought hard. “No, sir. All the weapons can be controlled locally, but there’s no way to access the warfare nets other than via the bridge. We couldn’t coordinate the weapons.”

  “We could have relays through the DC net,” Thomas thought aloud, “but it’ll be cumbersome—and too slow for anti-attack.”

  “There’s nowhere to access the sensor feeds,” Chen added morosely. “All readouts were on the bridge. Why aren’t there backups?”

  “I guess,” Thomas replied, his mind still searching for possibilities, “the ship designers figured that if the bridge was taken out beneath all that protection, the entire ship would have to have been destroyed first, just to reach it.”

  “Each sensor can be read locally,” Chen suggested.

  “Yeah, but it’s just raw data—not much good for tactics. Still… The ASW sensors are still working, right?”

  “Yes…”

  “They can be read by a Hawk’s systems.” His face split into a grin. “And we have three of them sitting back aft, doing nothing.” Thomas felt a plan snap into place. He turned back to Hayley, who was standing by the main display with a headset held up to one ear while a medic wrapped a bandage around her head to secure the fresh dressing.

  “Get two ASW techs back to the towed array space,” he ordered her, “and make certain it’s still feeding data into the combat system. Then get two other ASW techs down to the big dipper and deploy it.”

  “I’ll get the Hawks flashed up,” Chen said, grabbing another headset.

  Thomas moved back to the main display, trying to think as both a line officer and a strike officer at the same time. Even if the Hawks could get him info on the approaching rebel ships, he doubted he could use the weapons to effectively engage them. And if he tried, the rebel ships could just stand off and pummel Bowen to pieces. If they boarded, though, it became a ground war, and he was much better equipped for that.

  Hefting his armored helmet up, he snapped it into place. The earpieces extended from the inner shell to hover beside his ears and he heard a quick exchange between his troopers on the strike net. His vision blurred momentarily as the vision field generator moved in front of his eyes, ready to provide infra-red or quantum-flux on demand. He left his faceplate up in order to hear the chatter around him.

  “Bravo-One, this is Alpha-One.”

  “Bravo-One,” Buns replied.

  “Status of arming additional troops?”

  “Twenty souls prepped. Ten equipped with surface armor and assault rifles. Ten equipped with pistols. Standing by to deploy them.”

  Thomas examined the damage control display, noting which airlocks were currently covered by his troopers. There were two more still unguarded, located aft of frame fifty-seven. Anything forward of that he was going to abandon. He quickly issued orders to split his nine troopers between all six after airlocks, augmented by the heavily armed crew. The pistol-bearing crew he assigned to the hangar to protect the rest of his people.

  “Bravo-Two,” he concluded, “you command the forward units. Anything that comes through either of those airlocks you smash. If we get indication of entry forward of frame fifty-seven, I’m going to jettison atmo on them, so keep that frame airtight.”

  “Bravo-Two, roger. What’s your position?”

  “I’ll be in DCC, ready to cover the hangar if required. Out.”

  He turned to Hayley.

  “Status of ASW gear?”

  “Tail and big dipper both deployed and operational, passive only,” she replied.

  “Can the Hawks read the data from them?”

  “Unknown.”

  Thomas paused. Info on the rebel ships—before they mated with Bowen—was valuable, but not essential. Really he needed to know which airlocks the rebels boarded through. It was a ground war, he reminded himself.

  But not if those rebel ships could detach, he realized. Even if they lost their boarding parties, they could just pull back and start firing at Bowen. He frowned. Not only did he need the rebels to board his ship, he needed to keep their ships attached to it.

  This was still a space battle, too, even if he had no way to fight one.

  21

  “Indication of airlock seven access,” Oaks reported.

  Thomas loomed behind her, aware of the slight tremble in her voice. It was the only sound through the silent DCC as all operators watched their consoles, waiting. All ventilation was shut down to protect against breach. All chatter on the nets had ceased. Throughout the ship, he knew, his crew waited in silence.

  The enemy had arrived. On the main damage control display he watched as the indicator for airlock seven switched to red as the rebels forced their way through the hull. Moments later, three other airlocks revealed compromise.

  “ASW,” Chen said into his commlink, addressing John back in the hangar, “airlock incursions at positions three, four, seven, and eight.”

  “Roger,” John replied on the speaker, “starboard hangar airlock is decompressing, Spinner-Three will be ready to deploy in ten seconds.”

  Spinner-Two was already primed for launch in the port hangar airlock. Micah had taken station in the damaged Spinner-One, which remained in the hangar to relay instructions on the anti-stealth warfare comms.

  “Indication of enemy movement at airlock seven,” Hayley reported.

  “Let them get on board,” Thomas cautioned. “Let all four teams get on board.” Hayley relayed his instructions over the DC net. “Do all four rebel ships appear to have solid clamps engaged?”

  Chief Ranson nodded, pointing at detailed readings next to the airlock indicators.

  “Yes, sir,” he said. “They’ve matched atmo and are holding the doors open.”

  “ASW”—Thomas turned to Chen—“launch the Hawks.” Red lights on the main display indicated both hangar airlocks opening. Thomas waited. The lack of direct combat information was maddening, but he trusted his crew. The strained silence dragged out, all eyes and ears waiting for some signal of the Hawks’ success.

  “Fire at airlock eight!” Hayley reported.

  “Spinner-Two reports destruction of rebel ship at airlock eight,” Chen echoed.

  Thomas frowned. The explosion had sucked in all the air through the open airlock, causing a fireball inside Bowen. That was certainly one way to take out the attackers.

  “Status of our team at airlock eight,” he demanded.

  “No response,” Hayley
replied. He could hear the distant chatter of weapons fire, impacts vibrating through the hull as his troopers engaged the rebels. But the Hawks were loose and soon there would be more airlock explosions.

  “All units pull back one airtight frame from the entry points.”

  Hayley relayed the order, and he saw clusters of lights quickly change as his teams opened airtight doors and withdrew. The rebels followed, and he heard more weapons fire. Red warning lights flashed to life at airlock seven.

  “Fire at airlock seven,” Hayley said.

  “Status of our troops there?”

  “They’d withdrawn…” She paused, listening on the net. “Engaging hostiles.”

  Thomas shifted in his stance, hating the fact that his troopers were facing the enemy without him. There was still no word from the team at airlock eight—they had to be presumed dead. He studied the display for indication of movement.

  A hatch opened on deck five, not far from airlock eight. Someone was moving down to deck four. Moments later, another hatch opened, toward deck three.

  “We have movement on deck three at frame ninety-eight,” he said to Hayley. “Have Bravo-Two and her team move to intercept.”

  His orders were passed, but moments later she looked up at him.

  “Bravo-Two reports a… a milly? She’s pinned down and can’t move until the forward threat is neutralized. She wants a team to flank them to port.”

  Thomas kept his face neutral, but barely. There was a milly loose in his ship. A battle robot like that could wreak havoc in tight quarters—but at least it had made the mistake of picking a fight with Buns.

  “No can,” Thomas replied. “All troops are engaged. Tell her to hold position and keep that damn thing contained. Don’t let it get into the venting.”

  “What about frame ninety-eight,” Chen asked at his side. “It might be survivors from airlock eight.”

  “But ours or theirs?” Thomas countered. He studied the display for another moment. The unknown movement wasn’t far from DCC itself. He was loath to send any of his armed crewmen from the hangar to investigate—they were untrained, unarmored and carrying only pistols.

  Looking down at his own armored suit, he realized there was only one person who could investigate.

  “I’ll check out frame ninety-eight,” he said, hefting his assault rifle and flicking off the safety. Before anyone could respond, however, John’s voice sounded over the speaker.

  “DCC, this is ASW—new contact poss-high shadow bearing two-zero-zero mark one-niner-zero!”

  Thomas froze. An enemy stealth ship had been detected—no doubt the same one which had singularized Bowen’s bridge. No matter how cleverly he fought his battle against the rebel small craft and their boarding parties, that stealth ship could singularize Bowen itself in a heartbeat. He had no doubt that it would, if the attempt to capture the cruiser seemed to be going poorly.

  “Break engage target at airlock three,” he ordered. “Spinner-Two take hostile shadow.”

  Chen repeated the order, then looked up at Thomas again.

  “Sir, what about frame ninety-eight?”

  Leaving his position of command during a stealth attack cried out against every instinct Thomas had, but there was an unknown strike threat inside his ship, and the only available asset was himself.

  A door on deck three—only two frames forward—indicated open, he noted. There was no more time to consider.

  “I’ll investigate,” he said. “Sublieutenant Wi, you have control of the ship. Give ASW weapons free on all hostile contacts. Maneuver as required to defend against ASW attack.”

  “Yes, sir,” Chen responded. As he turned to leave, Thomas heard Chief Ranson reminding Chen that they still had full maneuvering control, directly through the engine room, and that all ASW battle stations were manned.

  Leaving DCC, Thomas shut out all other thoughts. There was a potential threat forward, or it might be friendly survivors, and he needed to be a trooper—nothing more. Slapping down his faceplate, he bounded forward in the deserted passageway, rifle up, passing through one frame and approaching the next airtight boundary. There was no cover against the straight bulkheads—nothing to protect him against enemy fire.

  The door up ahead cracked open, then slid aside.

  A large figure in a gray spacesuit jumped forward, raising a compact, two-handed launcher. Thomas aimed for the armored plate in the center of the suit’s chest and fired a single round. The rebel staggered, clutching at his chest. The launcher sagged downward and fired. A slug smashed down into the deck. Thick smoke billowed forth and visibility dropped to zero.

  Thomas gasped as bullets pinged off his suit. He fired a single shot again, then remembered that he was loaded with impact-only rounds. He switched to automatic and sprayed into the thickening smoke. Stepping into the swirling gray cloud he scanned for movement. Spotting a dead combatant, he noted that the enemy suits looked soft. With the flick of a thumb he snapped out the bayonet under his rifle’s barrel.

  Movement to the left. He swung even as bullets pounded against him. His rifle slammed against something that grunted, but his own shots went wide. The smoke cloud rang as the bullets punched into the bulkhead.

  Weight crashed down on his shoulder from behind and he staggered. A gray-suited hand reached to grab into his faceplate, blocking his view. Another hand wrenched at his rifle. Thomas threw himself backward, toppling with the massive weight of the attacker on his back. Together they crashed down to the deck. Thomas felt the sickening squish as the full mass of his armored suit flattened his attacker. The hands grabbing at him went limp and fell away.

  Still on his back he fired another spray of bullets upward into the smoke. A responding flash indicated the location of his foe even as his suit’s status lights glowed yellow in his peripheral. He fired at the flash and scrambled to a crouch. Shots cracked past him. He activated quantum-flux and quickly scanned right to left. Two more figures lurked behind the shroud of smoke, barely an arm’s length away, both crouched and seemingly blind. He couldn’t take both of them without being shot again, and a quick glance at his suit’s status indicated multiple punctures already.

  He wouldn’t survive another barrage of hits at this range.

  Stabbing outward at the nearest target, he pushed the bayonet at the shape of the suit’s throat, into the tough outer material between faceplate and chest armor. The blade sliced through until it hit bone. With a twist Thomas tore the wound open and wrenched back.

  The attack was silent, and the second enemy figure remained unaware. Thomas leaned back in his crouch and lined up the quantum-flux image in his sights. He fired a short burst and the target slumped back.

  Scanning again with quantum-flux, he then shifted to the longer-range infra-red. Five bodies were scattered on both sides of the airtight opening. No movement.

  Then he noticed a deep rumble coming from the deck itself and up through his suit, followed by the tell-tale sway of the artificial gravity fighting against the vectors of heavy maneuvering. Bowen was at speed and turning sharply, which could only mean one thing—stealth attack. He rose to his feet and stepped back through the door, breaking into a run as soon as the smoke began to clear.

  He’d barely made it ten steps when darkness swallowed the entire passageway and he felt himself falling forward in a sudden gravity well. The deck slammed into him and he slid along the smooth surface. Ignoring the warning lights of his suit, he hung onto his weapon and braced as the twisted gravity pulled him to rest against the next hatch combing.

  Slowly, slowly, gravity returned to normal.

  Emergency lights flickered on. Thomas picked himself up heavily and pushed open the airtight door. His armor felt heavy as he walked, the servos on his left side wheezing in emergency mode. The computer would reallocate nanoparts and energy to keep him moving for a while longer, but his suit was effectively cannibalizing itself to obey his commands.

  DCC was a shambles of broken displays and injured bodie
s, but some of the systems were still working. Snapping open his faceplate, he stumbled up to where Chen, Hayley, and Ranson huddled around a desk display. Smoke burned at his eyes as he surveyed their pale faces.

  “Close ground threat neutralized,” he stated with forced calm. “Damage control status?”

  Neither subbie was able to speak. Chen stared at the damage to the armored suit. Hayley gripped her headset against the blood-soaked bandage on her head.

  “Damage control system is stable,” Ranson growled. “We evaded the torpedo attack, but the near miss took out primary electrical.”

  “Boarding status?”

  “All threats dead or retreated,” Hayley said without looking up.

  “The forward groups pulled back to airlock three and the rebel ship broke away. Spinner-Three was destroyed during the attack.”

  “ASW status?”

  “Unknown,” Chen said.

  “Explain.”

  “The singularity wave tore us up back here. It rolled the Hawk in the hangar. All connections to ASW were cut. More than thirty casualties back aft.” Chen pointed down at the panel, which displayed the overall ship status. “We’ve gone to best possible speed and we’re running for the jump gate. If we can stay ahead of the stealth far enough, it won’t be able to take another shot.”

  “Very good,” Thomas nodded. ASW was a world of very slow speeds, but in extreme cases there was nothing wrong with high-tailing it away from a threat. Bowen’s gravimetric signature at high speed would be the size of an asteroid, but nobody was trying to hide now. Their best hope was to outrun the stealth.

  “What about Spinner-Two?”

  Chen glanced at Hayley before responding.

  “Unknown. Last comms we heard was the torpedo flash transmit—we’ve been blind and deaf pretty much since then.”

  “Oaks, get down to the tail compartment and report those sensor readings directly up to DCC.”