by Richard Fox
He’ll understand, Valdar thought. When it’s all over, he’ll understand.
“Toth ship…no change,” Utrecht said.
“What’s that?” Lieutenant Neely pointed toward the front reinforced-glass windows. A swath of space beyond Europa undulated, smearing starlight from left to right.
“Gunnery,” Valdar said as an icy pit of fear formed in his chest, “charge up the main guns. Now!”
The anomaly grew brighter until it burned bright enough that the auto-filters on the windows darkened. The light died away, leaving behind a gigantic starship that looked like a miles-long hunk of coral reef had been sent into space. Massive crystalline weapon emplacements studded across the hull spoke of the ship’s purpose: war.
“Toth cruiser powering weapons!” Ericsson announced.
“Battle stations!” Red lights whirled to life across the bridge and the Breitenfeld. “Helm, bring us about,” Valdar ordered. “I want Europa between us and that battleship two minutes ago. XO, get Hale and his team back aboard. We’re jumping for Earth the second they’re recovered.”
The Toth battleship began a slow turn toward the Breitenfeld. Shadows crept across its immense hull, cast by coarse towers of corral-like material.
They were playing us, Valdar thought. Stalling to get that thing closer to Earth. Valdar’s face flushed and hot anger gripped his heart. He’d been a fool, he realized, to think the Toth could ever have been trusted.
“Rounds loaded. Main guns ready to fire in thirty seconds,” Utrecht said.
“Any word from—”
“Cruiser firing! All hands brace for impact,” Ericsson’s warning went to the whole ship. Valdar braced himself against his command chair.
A bolt of blue-white energy snapped over the forward rail-gun battery. Light from a second bolt grew against the port side. The impact punched against the Breitenfeld, canting it to the side and twisting the ship on its axis. Valdar slammed against his restraints hard enough for his arms to fly out in front of him.
“Hull breach on decks nine through thirteen,” Ericsson said. “Forward flack batteries are offline.”
“Guns?” Valdar asked.
“Lost our firing solution,” Utrecht said. “Right the ship and I can put the big guns to work.”
“Already on it,” Geller said. Valdar felt the ship tremble as thrusters across the bottom of the vessel roared to life. “Coming back to our original bearing in three…two…one.”
“Fire!” Valdar commanded.
Lightning arced over the rail-gun vanes. Rounds the size of a small car catapulted through magnetic fields and ripped toward the Toth cruiser.
Ericsson looked up from her scope, “Hit!” She looked back in her scope and twisted a dial on the base, cycling through camera feeds. “She’s venting atmosphere…still under power. Toth cruiser is setting course right for us.”
“Gunnery, fire at will with the main guns. Kill that ship before it can get any closer,” Valdar said.
“Aye-aye, Skipper. Next volley in twenty seconds. What about the battleship?” Utrecht asked.
“We’re better off bringing a warning back to Earth than trying to scratch the paint on that thing,” Valdar said.
“Engine room,” Valdar said, “how long until we can jump back to Earth?”
“Get us another four thousand kilometers out of the gravity well and I can open the gate right on top of us,” the chief engineer said. “Every damn thing orbiting around Jupiter throws off the—”
“Incoming! Three shots from the cruiser!” Ericsson announced.
“Gott mit uns,” Valdar said quietly.
****
Durand inverted her fighter and looked “up” at the Mule idling on Europa’s ice, steam billowing up from beneath its engines.
“Mule, you got them?” Durand asked.
“Have to strap the big boys down,” Jorgen answered her. “I’ve got a feeling it won’t be a smooth trip back to the Breit.”
“What about Hale? How bad is he?”
“Crew chief had to hit him with painkillers,” Jorgen said. “We’ve got him strapped in and drooling.”
“I’ve got eyes on four bandits,” Manfred said. “Make that six. Coming in fast and low.”
Red triangles appeared on Durand’s canopy courtesy of her fighter’s computers. If the Toth had any electronic warfare capability, they hadn’t used it to try to degrade her shipboard systems…yet.
“Mule?” Durand asked.
“I need two more minutes,” Jorgen said.
“Lothar, Manfred, you stay with the Mule and escort it back to the ship,” Durand said. “Sparks, with me.” She banked her Eagle toward the Toth fighters and waited for Landas to form up on her wing.
“Gall, that’s suicide,” Manfred said. “The four of us—”
“Thank you, Manfred, this is my call. Turn and burn for the ship. We’ll catch up,” Durand said.
Manfred muttered in Dotok and went off the IR.
“Sparks, link your targeting computers with mine,” Durand said. “Let’s give them a surprise when we make our pass.”
“We’re linked,” Landas said. “So used to doing this the hard way since we started fighting Xaros.” Green diamond targeting reticules appeared over each hostile icon. A bar appeared next to each, decreasing slowly as the enemy approached.
“Don’t get used to it,” Durand said.
The half-dozen Toth fighters climbed up from Europa’s ice. Three sped ahead of the rest, their serrated edges glinting in the sunlight.
“We split on the pass. You go high. Keep the guns on them,” Durand said. The Gatling cannon slung beneath her fighter could put out fifty rounds per second, none of which were of any use if she couldn’t keep line of sight from her weapon to the target. “I’m going low.”
“Watch that ice, Gall. It doesn’t look too soft,” Landas said.
The bar counting down the outer edge of their engagement envelope shrank. The leading Toth fighters loosed bolts of energy, so Durand pushed her Eagle aside with a nudge from maneuver thrusters, keeping plenty of space between her and the potshots.
The targeting reticules flashed red. Durand squeezed the trigger on her control stick, her Eagle gyrating as the cannon fired. Her fighter’s computers sent out bursts of rounds at each target, automatically compensating for the Toth’s wild maneuvers as they broke formation and Durand rolled the Eagle over and dove it toward the ice. She saw a Toth fighter explode into a cloud of shrapnel before Europa filled her canopy.
“Splash two!” Landas said. “Think we nicked a third.”
Durand’s flight suit pressed against her thighs and stomach, fighting to keep blood in her brain and out of her feet. “Turn in and reacquire,” she managed with a grunt.
A pair of energy bolts snapped past her canopy and exploded against the ice.
“I’ve got one on me,” Durand said.
“I’ve got two!” Landas cried.
They sacrificed the first three just so the rest could get the jump on us, she thought. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Landas dodging fire high above.
“Dive toward me. I’ll meet you halfway,” Durand said. She skirted dangerously close to the ice, her engines kicking up twin trails of steam in her wake. A bolt passed over her canopy close enough that she ducked out of instinct. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the fighter closing in on her fast enough that she could almost make out the warrior behind the controls.
Durand put a hand on the throttle and yanked the control stick back. Maneuver jets pushed her nose away from the ice and brought her Eagle perpendicular to Europa. She gunned the thrusters as white-hot plasma burnt into the ice and shot her into the skies.
The supercharged particles lanced through the ice and burnt out a pocket of steam, steam that expanded so fast that it looked like a bomb had gone off. The Toth fighter flew through the wave of ice boulders and smashed into scrap.
Durand looked back at her handiwork and chuckled.
&
nbsp; “Gall, little help here,” Landas said. The Toth fighter on his tail fired several times, bracketing his Eagle.
“Dive, now!”
Landas banked over and flew straight toward Durand. The targeting reticule on the pursuing Toth went red. Durand put her trust in the computer and tapped the trigger. Two gauss rounds snapped past either side of Landas’ cockpit and perforated the Toth fighter.
“That was some hot shit right there—”
A bolt of energy from the last Toth fighter impacted Landas’ starboard engine. His Eagle went into a flat spin.
The Toth fighter’s afterburners flared to life and it shot past Landas’ stricken Eagle and Durand. There were red stripes behind the Toth cockpit.
“Ejecting!” Landas shouted. His canopy blew away with a pop of explosive bolts and his cockpit spat away from the fighter. Landas spun in the sky on a slow trajectory away from the moon.
Durand saw the Toth ace fly low across the ice, heading toward the distant battleship. Durand cut her speed and flew toward Landas. He waved to her as she neared.
“I’m OK,” Landas said. “Not to rush you, but I can feel the radiation shrinking my nuts down to raisins.”
“Mule, this is Durand. Got a fallen angel. Can you make pick up?”
“Come back?” Jorgen asked. “Have we got clear skies?”
“Roger, last bogie is running with its tail between—”
“Gall? Gall! It’s coming back!” Landas’ arms waved frantically, trying to point toward the ice as he spun end over end.
Durand got her head around in time to see the Toth ace hurtling toward them, faster than her Eagle could have ever managed. She cycled power to her engines, certain that she was a sitting duck for the Toth.
The Toth fired a single blast, the blue-white light missing Durand by more than double her wingspan. The Toth fighter passed beneath Durand and vanished over the horizon.
“What the hell?” Durand shook her head in confusion, then looked around for Landas. His emergency beacon wasn’t transmitting anymore.
“Sparks? Sparks?”
A dark object passed between her and the Milky Way’s band of stars. Durand tapped her maneuver thrusters to get closer.
“No…no, no, no,” Durand said.
The burnt mass of what had been Landas hung in space. His flight suit was seared black. His charred skull leaned back on his shoulder, frozen in a scream.
“Gall, I’m not reading a distress beacon,” Jorgen said.
“Disregard,” Durand said. “He’s dead. I’m en route back to the Breitenfeld. Gall out.”
Bastard Toth came back just for him, she thought. The emptiness inside Durand began to thaw, and the warm certainty of hatred filled her heart.
****
Hale felt the Mule’s landing skids hit the deck, bounce off, then land with a hard shake. He fumbled with his restraints, his mind foggy with painkillers.
“Stay put,” Elias said, his armor folded against itself into an almost rectangle. “It’s a mess on the flight deck.”
“How bad is it?” Hale asked.
“We’re listening to the flight deck’s IR,” Kallen said. “Forward section had a structural collapse. Breit nailed that Toth cruiser, but it got a couple licks in.”
“Stand by for jump,” thundered over the flight deck and into the Mule. “T minus six minutes and counting.”
The ramp lowered with a pneumatic whine, Europa’s bright face visible through the rear flight portal, shrinking as the Breitenfeld moved away. Armored doors ground toward each other, shutting away the moon. A pair of Marines climbed over the still-opening ramp and ran toward Hale, one carrying a medic bag.
“No, I’m fine,” Hale said, holding a hand up to stop the two.
“Heard you were injured. Again,” Yarrow said. He knelt next to Hale and ran a wire from his gauntlet into a plug on Hale’s shoulder. Hale’s vital signs came up on Yarrow’s forearm screen.
“How bad is it this time?” Cortaro asked.
“It’s just a bruise. For Christ’s sake let me get to the bridge and talk to the captain,” said Hale as he undid his restraints and tried to stand up. Cortaro’s firm hand pushed him back down.
“Let the medic check you out, sir. Won’t hurt,” Cortaro said.
“His suit held integrity,” Yarrow said. “His histamines receptors are going off the charts. Bet his immune system isn’t fully recovered from that bug he got on Takeni.”
“So I’m fine,” Hale said.
“What happened?” Cortaro pointed at the mangled armor on Hale’s right knee.
“He forgot to duck,” Kallen said from her spot next to Elias.
“Someone decided to use me as a shield,” Hale said.
“That’s not…OK, that is what happened, technically, but not what I meant to do,” Kallen said.
“Let’s get that off you.” Yarrow tapped a command on his forearm screen and the armor on Hale’s right leg decoupled from the rest of his suit. Yarrow cut away the pseudo-muscle layer and peeled it back from Hale’s right knee.
His skin was a mess of dark bruises ringed with yellow. Hale’s knee cap was twisted ninety degrees the wrong way.
“Huh,” Hale said. He reached a finger toward the battered joint.
Yarrow slapped his hand away.
“You know, sir,” Cortaro said, “if you come back from a mission in one piece, no one will complain.”
“Look who’s talking, Gunney.” Hale cocked his head aside and glared at Cortaro’s prosthetic leg.
“I’ve got bad news, sir. I need to null your painkillers right now. You’re about to go into anaphylactic shock,” Yarrow said. He took a small hypo-spray from his belt and twisted a dial. He pressed it against a port on Hale’s neck armor and the lieutenant felt like Yarrow had injected him with ice-cold water.
“How long does it take to kick—” Hale screeched and bent over and grabbed his thigh.
“I’ll get a stretcher over here soon as we’ve jumped. Dr. Accorso will give you the good stuff once we’re in sick bay,” Yarrow said.
Hale inhaled sharply through grit teeth. He looked at Yarrow, a man he knew was a proccie, and saw only a good Marine. Hale grabbed Yarrow by the shoulder.
“I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to let them take you,” Hale said.
“Thank you, sir,” Yarrow cracked a half smile. “Good to know someone thinks I really am somebody.”
****
Kren scuttled up a ramp into the armored command bridge of the Naga. He shut the heavy doorway the instant his tank was safe within the miniature fortress. Menial crew slunk away from him and tried to hide behind their workstations. His chief warrior bowed to him.
“Lord Stix wishes to speak to you,” the warrior said.
“I thought he would be here,” Kren said. “Put him on.”
The perfect hologram of Stix snapped onto the bridge.
“What have you done?” Stix demanded.
“The humans must have had help from the Alliance. I certainly didn’t give away this ship’s existence,” Kren said. “What of the thief ship? Is it destroyed?” Truly, he only cared that Hale was dead. Failing to kill the baelor himself would shame him for centuries. So long as the human had perished, Stix could be bribed to pass off any story Kren desired.
“It escaped,” Stix said, “and with it any chance of us acquiring their technology without significant cost. You already lost one cruiser. Our return-on-investment ration suffers for your stupidity.”
“This ship will be enough to subdue the humans. Make for their planet at best speed. One display of firepower and they’ll be begging to give us what we want.”
Stix shifted from side to side in his tank.
“That is foolish,” he said. “We should arrive with our entire fleet at once—ensure we have overwhelming force against their fleet.”
“But my dear Stix…if we include Olux and the ships under his command, he’ll claim a larger percentage of the acquisition.” Kren’s ne
rve endings twisted together. “You’d give up that much wealth for a negligible tactical advantage?”
“We can beat him to Earth orbit by several hours,” Stix said. “These humans better be worth the risk. It’s your life on the bond, not mine.”
“Hurry, Stix. Get us moving. We won’t get any richer just sitting here.”
CHAPTER 11
Ibarra watched a holo panel on the gently curved ceiling of the command center. Live video feed of the Crucible’s interior showed the shimmering field of an open wormhole.
The gigantic interlocking thorns of the Crucible shifted and twisted against each other. An angular shadow darkened the center.
Stacey, her hands flitting from control panel to control panel, took quick glances at the screen.
“The Breitenfeld is here. What’re you waiting for?” Ibarra asked.
“The quantum field keeps fluctuating,” Stacey snapped. “I change one variable and three more go out of variance. I try to close the gate now, I’ll smear the ship all over the solar system.”
“You’re trying to solve this problem like a regular human. Stop it,” Ibarra said. “You’re much better than that. Connect to the Crucible directly and balance the equation.”
“I did that once before—once—Grandpa. You and the probe did all the work.” Stacey wiped a hand across her forehead and spun around to a blinking red control panel.
The Breitenfeld’s shadow grew fainter.
“We’re losing her,” Ibarra said.
“Why aren’t you helping?” Stacey’s fists balled in anger as two more panels went red.
“I’m an interactive memory file, nothing more. The probe thought I might break something by accident if I could do more than menial tasks and make smart ass comments,” Ibarra said.
“Not helping!”
“Use the neural interface, Stacey. If the ship goes back to Europa, it won’t stand a chance against that battleship,” Ibarra said.
All the control screens flashed red in time with each other. Stacey’s shoulders slumped.