Defenders

by TR Cameron

  “Call it out by the numbers, people. Ready to disembark?”

  Each member of the squads responded to St. John in the affirmative, by descending order of rank and squad. Kate took her turn as alleged leader of third.

  “Key, open the back door. Red, arrange our ride. It’s time we were going.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “Commander,” Anna Fitzpatrick’s voice broke the flow of his commands, “blink code from the boarding party. They’re ready for extraction.”

  “Yes, finally,” he mentally pumped his fist that the Marines and Kate would be back on board shortly. “Contact the Osaka and ask Captain Ikumi to run interference as we agreed. Jacobs, launch the shuttle.” The original plan for an aft exit had called for one of the Washington’s crew members to dock and pick up their people. However, the enemy’s continued combat ability had pushed them to Plan B.

  Plan B was a little more… innovative, Cross thought.

  “Shuttle away, Commander.”

  “You’re clear on the plan, Lieutenant?”

  “Crystal, sir,” responded Jacobs. His hands moved deftly across his display as he piloted the shuttle by remote, his tactical duties temporarily reassigned to Lieutenant Claire Martin.

  “Communication channel to the boarding party, on speaker.”

  “Aye.” A moment passed. “Initiated.”

  Jacobs spoke. “Commander, the shuttle is en route to you. ETA one minute and thirteen seconds to range.”

  “Affirmative, Washington.” Cross’s stomach unclenched as he heard her voice. “One minute and ten seconds to range. Inform medical we have one wounded in need of immediate treatment.”

  Cross turned and pointed at Fitzpatrick, who nodded and set about routing a medical team to the shuttle hangar.

  Cross split his attention between his concern for Kate and his need to keep the enemy at bay with an effort of will. It was still three against one, but they were hampered by their inability to just blast the alien gunship out of the universe. Absorbing the incoming damage, rotating ships to keep them fresh, and avoiding cataclysmic destruction was harder than they’d imagined during the planning stages. He typed commands into his display screen to avoid speaking over the sounds of the rescue operation. He ordered Lieutenant Marcas Walsh to lock onto the enemy ship’s engines, and to pass that targeting data to the two AAN vessels. Once his team was recovered, he was looking forward to combining all their weapons to take out the enemy in a single barrage.

  “Thirty seconds, Commander Flynn. Standby.” Jacobs’ voice had the echo of deep concentration.

  “We see the shuttle. Course is true. We’re locked together and ready.”

  The plan was for the boarding party to attach themselves to one another using armor hardpoints designed for that purpose. Flexible metal cables were part of the Marines’ normal kits, and the addition of carabiners made them into perfect tethers. The lead soldier in each squad had a heavy-duty grapnel gun with a line secured to the armor. The execution was simple in theory: grapnel is fired, grapnel magnetically adheres to shuttle, Marines are pulled into space. Hidden by the Osaka, the shuttle would close the distance to the Washington at high speed and they’d use their armor’s thrusters to kill velocity as they entered the shuttle bay. A wounded soldier would provide an extra challenge, but he knew the Marines would be up to the task. As would Kate.

  “Ten seconds, Commander. Standby for braking.”

  “Standing by.”

  “Braking.”

  “Grapnels fired. We appear to have success on all three lines. Cleared to maneuver.”

  “Maneuvering,” Jacobs said, chewing on his lip as he gently accelerated the shuttle on its homeward arc.

  Cross watched as the Osaka slid into place, blocking the Marines from the weapons of the alien ship. His earpiece buzzed, and suddenly Kate was speaking to him. “Cross, we’re on our way back with the stuff. Explosives await detonation.”

  “You always give the best presents, Kate.”

  “Maybe you should reciprocate on occasion.”

  “How about I open the shuttle bay doors for you?”

  “That would be a good start.”

  Cross touched the appropriate areas on his display to activate the outer door, and it parted to admit his people. Moments later, St. John’s voice came over the bridge speakers, “Team secure.”

  Cross turned to face the main screen. “Send a message to AAN ships: Firing in thirty seconds.” He waited until twenty-nine seconds, then gave orders to drop the jamming and transmit the signal to detonate the explosives the boarding party had left behind, right down to the tiny self-destruct charges in the comm repeaters.

  “Fire all weapons.”

  “Affirmative.”

  Walsh slammed his fist down as if to propel the torpedoes from their bays through sheer force. They drew a short line between the Washington and the enemy, joining the lasers and plasma cannons targeted at its engines. The shields flickered and died before the torpedoes impacted, a result of the explosives the Marines had left behind. The other ships joined in, and the alien gunship exploded in a violent frenzy with explosions chewing it up from back to front.

  Captain Ikumi Shoda’s image resolved on the main display. “Well done, Commander. What is the status of—” Her message was interrupted by the arrival of more ships.

  “New enemy targets, Commander,” Jacobs reported, having reclaimed tactical from Martin. “Marked Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. They match the specs of the ship we just destroyed.”

  “Three gunships? Why are they sending gunships?” Cross didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until the bridge crew turned to look at him. “Evasive pattern Theta. Tactical, shields full. Weapons, pick one and hammer it. If we can hammer two of them, do that instead.”

  Why did the alien ships display such impressive situational awareness upon their arrival, Cross wondered. They split into a pair and a single and spread apart so they couldn’t be targeted by the same broadside. The single ship worked its way around to catch the Washington in a crossfire. The Osaka moved to block while exchanging fire with the other two.

  The Washington rocked as full broadsides from two alien ships impacted on her starboard shields, overloading them. Excess energy blasted into the side of the ship, scouring away several laser emplacements.

  “Casualties in compartments on deck Foxtrot. Medical teams are on their way.”

  “I need those shields,” Cross bellowed. “Helm, tunnel jump.”

  Lee hit the button, and the engines climbed to launch them into the tunnel, but then failed to generate the required field. Cross realized he’d missed the earlier ships deploying the jump defeaters. Another round of torpedoes rocked the Washington. At least they failed to take advantage of their damaged section and impacted the forward shields instead.

  “Damnation,” Cross growled at the universe. “I hate those bloody tunnel blockers. Helm, whatever shields are the strongest, keep them pointed toward the pair of attacking ships. Communication, opened the channel to captain Ikumi immediately.”

  Cross simmered, unable to do anything to help anyone. Kate chose that moment to reenter the bridge, her hair sweaty and pulled back into a ponytail, a hastily thrown on uniform askew on her trim form. She took her seat in the executive officer’s chair and buckled herself in. Without a word, she activated her displays and assessed the situation.

  “Recommend we retreat, Commander,” she said after a few moments. Cross was about to offer a sarcastic reply when Ikumi’s image appeared on the main screen.

  “What do you think, Captain?”

  “I think it’s time we were departing, Commander.”

  “My XO agrees with you.” The Washington took another barrage of missiles, and they lurched in their seats as some of the kinetic energy made it through the weakened barrier. “So do I.”

  A message appeared on Cross’s display, and he read it while waiting for Ikumi to reply. Then he preempted that response. “I’m told that the Ha
noi doesn’t have a wormhole drive, and even if it did, it’s too damaged to leave the sector.”

  “That’s true, Commander.”

  “Okay, then we need to knock these ships out. You take the one that’s been hammering us, and the Washington will turn and attack the…” Cross’s voice trailed off as he saw her shaking her head on the screen.

  “The Hanoi will cover our retreat, Commander Cross. We’ve both taken damage. Yours is quite severe, and we cannot defeat all three ships. Our aim was the data. We have it. It’s time to go.”

  Cross was silent, seeking a solution. He found none. Lava burned in his chest, as he forced the words past his lips, “You’re right. Let’s get out of here.”

  Cross sucked in a deep breath and sat up straighter. “Helm, shortest path to the wormhole entrance. Tactical, maintain aft shields, deploy countermeasures…” His voice trailed off again. “Keep us alive until we can escape, Allen.”

  “You’ve got it, Commander.”

  Cross watched as the pieces reoriented, the Washington and the Osaka pulling away as the Hanoi interposed itself between the aliens and the retreating ships.

  “Time to wormhole?”

  “One minute, forty-two seconds, Commander.”

  “Shield status?”

  Jacob’s voice was less confident than Cross would have hoped. “We should make it, Commander.”

  Cross leaned back in his chair and looked over at Kate. She gave him a nod, confirming the tactical officer’s analysis. He stared at her, a question on his lips, but then shook his head and remained silent.

  When the countdown clock in the corner of the screen showed twenty-eight seconds to the wormhole, several things happened at once. The Hanoi attacked the alien ships already in the sector, another alien ship washed into the zone in a beautiful splash of color, and the Washington’s engines failed, plunging her crew into complete darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Engines down,” Lieutenant Zachary Lee stated the obvious.

  The emergency batteries kicked in, bringing the ship back to life. Cross punched the button on his console to connect him with engineering. “Jannik, what’s going on?”

  An unknown voice replied, “Chief’s a little busy right now, Commander. He said to tell you that the wormhole drive is just fine, and he’s working to get the engines up. In the meantime, he recommends positioning thrusters using battery power.”

  “Keep me updated.” Cross closed the channel. “Helm, all power we can spare to positioning thrusters to take us to the wormhole.” He frowned at the display, still blank. “Second priority, shields. Third priority, main display.”

  “Shields activated automatically when the engines failed, Commander. We should have enough battery life keep them up until we hit the wormhole. Barring enemy action.” Jacobs didn’t sound confident in the latter.

  The main display flickered. In those flashes, Cross saw there was a great deal of enemy action going on. The new arrivals had made the logical choice by turning to battle the Hanoi in response to its attack, but lost important seconds pursuing the Washington.

  The image on the screen held, allowing the bridge crew to watch as the Hanoi ejected a full set of torpedoes at the single ship as it drove between the paired enemy ships. He launched one last pair of broadsides and fired all of his energy weapons before overloading his engines. A blinding flash exploded as the finely balanced particle reaction that was the ship’s heart spiraled out of control. The blast blew through the shields of the two alien ships and explosions erupted as the damage overwhelmed them. The cataclysm also wiped out any remaining evidence of the data theft.

  Ten seconds later, first the Osaka and then the Washington slipped from the sector into the safety of the wormhole. “Estimated transit time?” Cross asked.

  “Seven hours, twenty-three minutes, give or take,” replied Lee.

  “Signal change of watch. Everyone get some sleep. First watch back to the bridge thirty minutes before wormhole exit.” Cross logged his commands so the next watch would know when to call them back. “Commander Flynn, you have the deck until relieved.”

  “Aye, Commander Cross.”

  He walked with purpose from the bridge with his head down, vanishing from sight as the lift doors closed.

  Cross failed to heed his own orders. Sleep was an impossibility. He chose instead to visit engineering on his way down to the exercise space.

  “Where’s the chief?” he asked a passing crew member, who pointed back over her shoulder.

  “Follow the cursing, Commander.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of Cross’s all-too-constant grimace. “Excellent, ensign, thank you.”

  He did as instructed and found Jannik up to his elbows in the control panel for the main engines. “Status, Chief?”

  Jannik cursed again, this time impugning every commanding officer in the UAL Navy, specifically criticizing their unending need for answers. He disentangled his long arms from the equipment, straightened, and stretched his back with a moan.

  “It appears the battering we took, dug deep. Power feedback from the destroyed cannons burned out several capacitors and brought the rest right to the edge. When we pushed her to reach the wormhole, we blew the remainder. It’ll take wholesale replacements to restore full power.”

  “Okay,” Cross said, knowing how Jannik worked, “now the good news, right?”

  Jannik bowed his head, looked surprised that he was still holding a tool, and slipped the ratchet into his belt. “The good news, my boy, is that if I can work on it for a while without being bothered, we should be able to use our replacement boards to get one engine up to half power. That plus some creative engineering will be enough for a single tunnel transit. Before you ask—” he cut off Cross’s reply with a raised palm, “I guarantee we will not tunnel twice without a major repair, requiring parts we don’t have on board. Choose your destination wisely, Commander.”

  He clapped Jannik on the back. “It’s good to know you’ve always got a solution, Chief.” As he walked away, Cross triggered the communicator on his wrist and routed a call to the bridge. “Smythe, find us the best repair option within a single tunnel jump from our projected wormhole exit. Then, find the second best, in case we can’t make the first one. Have them ready at change of watch.”

  “Aye, Commander. Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

  Cross controlled his irritation, remembering Captain Okoye’s mandate to use every tool at his disposal for the benefit of his crew. “I am, Lieutenant Commander, I’m just talking in my sleep.”

  She laughed, and he cut the channel.

  Finally, he reached his final destination, the exercise facility on the lowest deck of the ship. He slipped on protective gloves, leg pads, and instep guards, then started a martial art routine. The heavy bag hanging from the ceiling in front of him had multiple targets on it, that would light up in sequence, guiding Cross through a preset exercise pattern.

  He warmed up with gentle taps on the bag as he stretched. The targets burned brighter, calling for harder strikes, and Cross was happy to oblige. Short jabs, powerful hooks, back fists, roundhouse kicks, and spinning back kicks followed. As his intensity increased, so did the program’s expectations.

  At the end of twenty minutes, he dripped with sweat and had forgotten everything except the need to hit the lights. At the end of thirty, his arms and legs were rubber, and he stumbled with each kick. The targets blinked out as he fell against the bag, and he made a clumsy turn to reactivate the sequence.

  He found his way blocked. It took him several beats to realize that Kate stood before him.

  “You don’t appear to be sleeping, Commander.”

  “Neither do you, Commander,” Cross replied, congratulating himself on retaining the ability to speak.

  “I have to say, this is much better than diving into a bottle.” She circled behind the heavy bag, wrapping her arms around it to steady it for him. “Command agrees with you.” She nodded her head at
it, and he began his cooldown.

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here, and guess that you’re upset over the loss of the Hanoi.” Cross replied by punching the bag harder than he intended, and Kate gave a warm laugh. “Confirmation accepted.”

  She looked around the bag at him, and he stopped fighting, letting his arms fall to his sides, and returned her gaze. “Cross, this is the part where I say the reassuring things you need to hear, and you pick yourself up and get back to work, or in this case, to sleep. Fortunately, this time, it’s really easy. Losing the Hanoi is not your fault. It isn’t Ikumi’s fault. It’s not even Captain Vladivov’s fault, even though it was his choice.” She stepped out from behind the bag and grabbed his upper arm, giving him a gentle shake.

  “The plan was necessary. We executed it because we needed to. We all know we may have to sacrifice ourselves toward a larger goal at any time. It’s part of the gig. You demean their sacrifice by trying to take responsibility for it.”

  Cross tried to speak, but Kate cut him off before he could get more than a syllable out. “No, no. I get it. You’re supposed to be all-knowing and never make a mistake. Even if that were the case, and even if you’d gone into this mission understanding that we would lose that ship, it was still the right thing to do. I’m not saying that the sailors under your command are pawns to sacrifice on a whim. Each life is precious. But every piece has a role, and sometimes that role is to protect the more powerful pieces.”

  She put a finger on his lips. “Don’t speak. Quit beating yourself up over things that are not your fault and go sleep. You have plenty of actual flaws to worry about without inventing more. If you’d like, I can list them. In fact, if you aren’t moving toward your room in twenty seconds, I’m going to spend the next six hours doing just that.”