Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two

Home > Other > Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two > Page 32
Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two Page 32

by Jennsen, G. S.


  It took another twelve minutes to reach the station. Her heart broke at the knowledge they had been so close. Their companions had died steps from, if not safety, at least a chance.

  From the outside the station resembled the rest of the buildings they had passed—broken and crumbled. But it wasn’t a crater. She had feared it would be a crater.

  The relief of four walls surrounding her cascaded through her in a rush; she sank against the nearest one, lightheaded and a bit punch-drunk.

  “You feel all right?”

  She jumped at the realization Noah had come over. He held out a water packet, which she greedily accepted. While she guzzled it he knelt down and began feeling carefully along her leg.

  “Your cut’s opened back up. We should get it cleaned and re-bandaged.”

  Her head shook as she took a final gulp of the water. The packet was drained, so she tossed it cavalierly in the corner. “It can wait. I’m getting the fuck off this planet, and I’m getting off now.”

  He chuckled softly. “That’s my girl. Let’s see what we can find.”

  His girl? Her nose scrunched up at the phrasing, but he had turned away. She motioned for Raina to follow them and stepped into the hallway.

  She nearly got shot for the effort.

  A young soldier—he looked to be barely past puberty—pointed a military-issue Daemon at them. His hand shook so fiercely the gun was in danger of falling from his grip.

  Noah stepped up, hands open in submission. “Easy there. We’re good guys.”

  The kid’s eyes were wide as saucers, but he shakily lowered the gun. “I heard noises and thought one of those creatures was coming inside.”

  “I think they’re probably too big to fit, but I can understand the concern. Any chance you have a working shuttle hiding back there?”

  “Uh…sort of?”

  Kennedy gazed at the bay of wrecked shuttles in dismay. The last of her adrenaline seeped away at the sight of the widespread destruction. It occurred to her then, for perhaps the first time in this long nightmare, that she was going to die.

  “No, you’re not.”

  She spun to Noah in surprise. Had she voiced her doomsday proclamation aloud? She didn’t think so. Had he merely read her countenance, judged the set of her jaw? “Noah, look. No way are any of these ships taking off.”

  “Nope they are not. Come with me.” He reached out and grasped her hand in his.

  She allowed herself to be guided to the far corner of the bay and into some kind of workroom. Inside were three soldiers working on two shuttles suspended on racks in the middle of the room.

  “I found people. Even better, I found intact shuttles.”

  The soldiers spun to them, more relief than wariness in their faces. After brief confusion, introductions ensued.

  The interior workroom was recessed enough to have survived the initial blitz; so long as the rest of the building overhead remained standing it would remain standing as well.

  By sheer dumb luck the two shuttles were brought to the workroom for repairs hours before the attack. Unfortunately, the repairs needed were extensive. The LEN reactor powering one had died, and the left thruster in the other was shot. Her suggestion to scalp the LEN reactor from the shuttle with the busted thruster was a no-go, however. More soldiers were alive elsewhere in the building, so an escape was going to require both shuttles.

  “Did you check the moderator feeds into the reactor core?”

  She received blank stares in response. Good lord, did the military employ anybody they picked up off the street as technicians these days? She looked over at Noah and sighed. “I’ll crack open the reactor. Think you can salvage some parts from the wrecked shuttles in the bay to fix the thruster?”

  He smiled, and she sensed her heart lift a little. Maybe they stood a chance of making it after all. Then he gave her a flourished bow. “As the lady wishes, so shall she receive.”

  “Smart-ass. Get out of here.”

  As soon as he had departed she directed her attention to the others. “I need a shielded containment box, radiation gloves and a micro welding torch. And a crescent wrench.”

  For the next hour she forgot about the aliens and the roving ships and the charred bodies. For a time she even forgot Sylvie’s final scream as she buried herself in the delicate work of replacing the LEN reactor core’s fuel. She was only vaguely aware of the activity occurring across the room at the other shuttle, except for the time or two Noah let loose a particularly colorful curse. She assumed it meant they were making progress.

  She and one of the technicians were tightening the casing around the reactor when several soldiers ran into the room.

  “You’re not going to believe this, but we’re picking up Alliance ships near the planet!”

  She leapt off the floor, ignoring the painful response of her leg. “You didn’t get commun— oh shit, we can talk to them.”

  “No we can’t, ma’am. And who are you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. And yes, you can.” If Alliance ships were here she had to believe her message to Alex’s mother had gotten through. Not because the military wouldn’t otherwise have known Messium was under assault—she imagined the entire galaxy must know by now—but because no way were they insane enough to try to mount a counter-offensive if they couldn’t talk to one another.

  She turned to the technician helping her. “You know how to finish re-installing it and hook up the cabling?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That I can do.”

  “Great. I’ll be back.” She crossed to the soldiers at the doorway. “Take me to the comm room.”

  SPACE, NORTHEAST QUADRANT

  MESSIUM STELLAR SYSTEM

  * * *

  The blast of an exploding frigate flared in the viewport. In the tiniest of blessings, it was far enough away the shockwave didn’t strain the motion dampeners.

  The Orion along with two frigates under its charge, the Concord and the Provence, continued to fly and shoot. But mostly they ran.

  The ships that remained operational remained so primarily because the battle had evolved into a game of cat and mouse. They ran, the alien vessels chased.

  And for all the firepower of the superdreadnoughts, in the end it would be the damn swarmers that defeated them. Shields withstood their weapons when fired in small quantities, but there were simply too many—

  “Sir, I’m receiving a communication from the ground.”

  Malcolm spun around to the comms station. “Relay it.”

  “It says survivors intend to depart in two shuttles from the capital's downtown area. They’re requesting the status of any corridors and advice on the safest route.”

  “Tell them no corridors are passable, but if they can get to…” he found and zoomed the planetary map “…N 36.4° E 12.2°, the skies should be free of enemy ships.”

  Only two shuttles. But two beat zero. Someone had been alive down on the planet, and they were escaping, possibly due to the fleet’s efforts. Rychen had earlier reported the three stealth ships were able to recover fifteen survivors near the base.

  Altogether, it was a terribly small victory and yet so far from nothing.

  “They’ve received the instructions, sir, and expect to depart in four minutes.”

  Shuttles wouldn’t be equipped for interstellar travel. They were going to need a ride. He checked the tactical map. The Provence was closer but it had the attention of a dozen or so swarmers. For the moment his ship did not.

  Colonel Jenner: Admiral, we’ve received a communication from survivors groundside. Two shuttles are preparing to flee the planet. I’ve directed the shuttles to a safe exit route and am headed to retrieve them.

  Admiral Rychen: Understood.

  It was a curt reply, but they had all devolved into curt replies. The man was serving as the conductor of a symphony of bedlam and death, his sole tool a badly crippled communications system.

  “Helmsman Paena: set an intercept course for those shuttles. Systems: w
hen we’re within half a megameter, get the shuttle bay door open. I expect we can’t talk to them once they’re in the shuttles, but they’ll get the idea.”

  He hated running from the battle for even a few minutes, but their purpose in coming here was to save people.

  Colonel Jenner: Concord, we’re retrieving a couple of shuttles on the run. Watch our back and distract any swarmers who decide to follow us, would you?

  Lt. Colonel Sanchez (Concord): You got it, sir.

  He had sent the survivors halfway around the surface and the Orion was now fairly distant from the planet. It took eight minutes to reach the shuttles, every second of which he spent examining the maps to confirm they weren’t being followed. A single shot by a single swarmer would vaporize a shuttle, and should they attract a superdreadnought, all bets were off.

  Their angle of approach was such the shuttles never crossed the viewport, but he tracked them on the radar and exhaled in relief when the comm came from the shuttle bay. “Both shuttles safely aboard, sir. We have twelve survivors: nine military, three civilian.”

  “Great job, Sergeant. See that they receive any necessary medical care and food. Paena, get us back to the fleet, but swing us down low beneath the planet. Let’s see if we can’t sneak up on one of those superdreadnoughts.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He returned his attention to the map, scanning for any opportunity he might exploit.

  “Sir, three of the survivors are asking to speak to you. They say it’s urgent.”

  Urgent? They would possess intel on the situation groundside and possibly on the aliens. The fleet was starved for information. “Go ahead and bring them to the bridge.”

  The cruiser was not a small ship, and he had again lost himself in the tactical map when a throat cleared behind him. “Sir, the survivors from the shuttles.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant.” He turned around to find a lieutenant in filthy BDUs and two civilians who looked as though they’d crawled through a volcano standing before him. “Glad we could reach you—”

  “Malcolm?”

  He jerked a little in surprise—his first name had yet to be uttered on the Orion—and scrutinized the woman more closely. Long tangles of what resembled blond hair, though coated in soot and grime, tumbled from the remnants of a ponytail. Her face appeared no better; aside from the grime, a nasty bruise had darkened beneath her left eye and dried blood streaked along her chin. But….

  “Kennedy Rossi?”

  She laughed; it sounded wild and not remotely like the poised, polished woman he remembered. “What a damn fine coincidence. You got a promotion, I’m guessing?”

  “Lucky me. So—”

  She reached out and grasped his arm. Then presumably remembering she was on a military ship of which he was the commanding officer, she hastily dropped it and stepped back. “Malcolm, you need to know that Alex didn’t have anything to do with the EASC bombing. She—”

  “I do. She’s been cleared. You didn’t—right, you wouldn’t have had exanet access for several days now. It’s all over the news.”

  “Oh, thank god.” She blew a stray hair out of her eyes. “Caleb, too?”

  “The Senecan? Yes. It seems the records were doctored to implicate them.”

  The man standing next to Kennedy whipped around to stare at her. “Wait, you know Caleb?”

  Her face screwed up. “Sort of. You know Caleb?”

  The man looked as though she had offended him somehow. “Yes. He’s the reason I was on Messium in the first place. Sort of—”

  Malcolm cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but a fairly intense battle is ongoing outside so could we perhaps focus?”

  Kennedy shot the man another odd glance. “Right. Sorry.” She gestured to the others. “Noah Terrage. Lieutenant Shan. We brought pieces of one of the small ships, including some of its internal workings. Shan has excellent readings on their ships including the types of signals they emit. Thanks to him we were also able to get additional information on their quantum field that’s disrupting communications.”

  “Nice work. What’s the situation on the ground? Are there other survivors? Lieutenant, what about HQ?”

  Shan shook his head. “I was at the station in the city when the attack began. We were never able to raise the base on comms. We had significant air presence in the first few hours, but since then…well, there were a lot of explosions over at the base, sir, and we haven’t seen an Alliance ship in the air in a day and a half.”

  Rychen was not going to like the news, though he had to be expecting it. He forced his expression to remain resolute. “Civilian survivors?”

  The sadness in Kennedy’s eyes was all the answer he required. “We crossed six kilometers through downtown, and those with us are the only survivors we found. There were a few people along the way who didn’t make it. I’m not saying people aren’t hiding in basements and such, but the streets are a kill zone. The small ships patrol them constantly. Also, we saw six of the really big ships as we were fleeing.”

  Her shoulders straightened, and a hint of the person he remembered shone through. “Malcolm, we need to get this information to EASC—to people who can study it and determine how to use it against the aliens. And we need to get it to them now.”

  He ran a hand through close-cropped hair. It felt greasy; he hadn’t realized he’d been sweating and probably for some time. “Give me a few minutes. You can wait in my office—the Sergeant will show you to it.” He gave her a weary smile. “Oh, and Kennedy? I’m glad you made it out okay.”

  Her shoulders sagged in an exaggerated motion. “So am I.”

  As soon as they had stepped away he dropped his hands to the railing and leaned into it. He studied the tactical map for a few seconds, scanned the viewport then commed Rychen.

  Colonel Jenner: Admiral, we successfully retrieved the shuttles. Twelve survivors. They brought physical specimens from one of the small alien ships and data on their functionality. Sir, how many ships have we lost?

  Admiral Rychen: As of thirty seconds ago? Forty-two percent.

  Colonel Jenner: How many of theirs have we taken out?

  Admiral Rychen: Two superdreadnoughts, roughly two hundred of the small ones.

  Colonel Jenner: Damaged?

  Admiral Rychen: Three.

  If it had meant five of eight superdreadnoughts were damaged or destroyed, it would’ve constituted most encouraging news. Unfortunately, shortly into the battle the five superdreadnoughts formerly patrolling the far side of the planet had begun arriving. Obviously the communications jamming was not wholly successful.

  The result was they now faced as many alien vessels as when the battle began and their forces had been slashed nearly in half.

  Colonel Jenner: The survivors report no air activity from the base in more than a day and no appreciable civilian survivors. Sir, we should retreat. We possess intel now which, especially when coupled with what we’ve learned engaging the enemy, may make the difference in future battles. Those who we’ve lost here will have died in vain if we don’t ensure this intel is fully utilized.

  Admiral Rychen: Colonel, we are making headway.

  Colonel Jenner: They report a minimum of six additional superdreadnoughts in-atmosphere.

  Admiral Rychen: Understood. You are authorized to depart. Go directly to Earth. Get this intel into the right hands. That’s an order.

  Colonel Jenner: You gave me this command because I can see the larger picture. We’ve proven to the aliens we can fight back. That we will fight back. We’re going to need these ships and soldiers to do so. We have achieved our short-term goals, but now the sole rational choice is to retreat and save the remainder of the fleet for future operations. Please, sir. We will return.

  The silence continued so long he assumed the link had been cut. Dammit. He didn’t want to abandon the rest of the fleet but—

  The message went out individually to every command group. “All ships, prepare for retreat to the rendezvous coordi
nates in two minutes. Recall fighters and ready sLume drives.”

  Admiral Rychen: Thank you, Colonel.

  49

  EARTH

  EASC HEADQUARTERS

  * * *

  AS SHE HASTENED DOWN THE HALL from one emergency to the next, Miriam spared the fleeting thought that everything was suddenly happening everywhere and all at once. It threatened to cause her head to spin if she slowed long enough to really ponder the ramifications.

  Thankfully she didn’t have the time.

  Major Lange waited outside her office this visit; this visit she appreciated his promptness. He seemed to recognize the import of this task as much as she did, for he brought four appropriately intimidating MPs along with him.

  She acknowledged him with a sharp but not unkind nod. “Major. Is everything in order? You received the arrest authorization?”

  “Yes, ma’am. San Francisco has signed off. I’m ready when you are.”

  “Let’s not waste time then.”

  Technically, she did not need to be present for Liam’s arrest. But she was not going to miss this.

  She hadn’t filed a complaint or told anyone about their altercation; she’d never been a victim a day in her life and didn’t intend to start being one now. She’d intended to bring him down on account of his public misdeeds, for they were sufficiently inexcusable, but it turned out his private ones were oh so very much worse.

  Truth be told she wasn’t the slightest bit surprised to learn of his involvement in the Palluda massacre and the larger conspiracy to instigate war with the Federation. Appalled and disgusted to learn he would disgrace the Alliance military in such a horrendous fashion, yes. But not surprised. And it gave her merely the smallest twinge of personal pride that though she possessed an even stronger claim to a personal grudge against Seneca than he, when the call came due she’d worked to bring an end to war rather than initiate one.

  Marcus Aguirre, on the other hand, had shocked the hell out of her. She’d stood in his office days ago and engaged in a contentious conversation with him and hadn’t gotten the slightest inkling. His attitude frustrated her to be sure, but he’d always exuded the bearing of a consummate politician, and in a most skilled manner.

 

‹ Prev