by Chris Fox
“They’ll do what they have to,” Izzy said. They reached the hatch leading from the shuttle bay, and she paused to peer around the corner, then gestured at Hannan to proceed.
Hannan leapt into the corridor, scanning carefully for movement. There was none, so she started advancing up the corridor, down B1. It wasn’t the fastest way to the bridge, but she’d left those routes open for the less experienced squads. She was taking the long way.
49
Machine Shop
Hannan waited patiently as Mills advanced ahead of her up the B1 corridor. Their path would bring them near the gauss cannon, but that was part of her plan. If she were the enemy commander, that would be one of her primary targets. She and her troops were heading for the CIC, but there was no reason not to swing by and pop a few of these Void Wraith if they happened to be messing with the Johnston’s main gun.
“You sure about trusting the cats, sir?” Edwards asked. His voice was probably meant to be a whisper, but like the man himself it was larger than intended. He scrubbed at his beard, eyeing Izzy.
Izzy’s ears twitched, but she didn’t react. She was still crouched behind cover, just a few meters behind Mills.
“Get your head in the game, Marine,” Hannan snapped. “We’re in combat. We don’t have time for bullshit questions.”
Edwards nodded. He raised the barrel of his TM-601 and began advancing up the corridor. Hannan followed in the rear, darting frequent glances behind her. It was nerve-wracking, because they didn’t know the enemy. Who knew what tactics the Void Wraith would use, or even what armament they’d brought? There was no guarantee that the plasma weapons her crew had seen on Mar Kona were the full extent of what the Void Wraith could bring to bear.
“Contact,” Mills yelled. Hannan’s gaze snapped up to the sniper, who was at a T intersection ahead. That intersection led into the barrel of the gauss rifle, which they’d need to cross to get to C1, and then up to the CIC.
Bursts of blue energy shot into view, vaporizing sections of the bulkhead. Mills fell back in a full sprint, then dove into the hatch that led to the machine shop. That left Edwards and Izzy on point.
“Edwards, get ready to lay down suppressive fire,” Hannan yelled. She dropped into a crouch, pressing her body against the right wall. There was no cover as such, so the best she could do was present a smaller profile.
“Should we fall back to a more secure location?” Izzy called over her shoulder. She’d raised the barrel of her bulky Tigris rifle. The bayonet at the end had begun to hum. “There’s no cover here.”
“They don’t have cover either,” Hannan yelled back. “Just gun down anything that comes around the—”
Something shimmered in the air near the corner, sort of a heat mirage. The same heat mirage she’d seen back in the jungle on Mar Kona.
“Light it up,” Hannan bellowed. She depressed the trigger on her assault rifle, and sent a three-round burst at the section where she guessed the chest was. The cloaking field wavered where the rounds hit, temporarily exposing smooth blue armor.
Then Edwards’s rifle drowned out all sound as he unloaded a stream of high velocity slugs. They caught the Judicator in the right knee, severing it in a spray of circuitry and bright orange fluid. Izzy completed the destruction, calmly sighting down her barrel and unleashing a single shot. Hannan wasn’t sure what caliber the bullet was, but the Judicator’s head exploded, spraying the wall with more orange fluid.
“Take cover,” Hannan yelled, diving into the machine shop after Mills. Izzy came through a moment later.
Edwards had almost reached them when a sudden whump tore at Hannan’s already damaged eardrums. A wash of flame and debris launched Edwards through the hatch, and he slammed into the wall with a sickening crunch.
Hannan rushed to his side, barking out orders as she inspected his body. “Mills, kill anything that approaches that doorway. Izzy, move a couple of those tables so we can use them as cover.”
She didn’t pause to see if they were listening, instead pressing two fingers against Edwards’s neck. His eyes were closed, but his pulse was strong. There were no obvious broken bones, and no real damage to the armor.
“Come on, Edwards,” she muttered, slapping him hard in the face. “Wake up, Marine. We need you.”
“Sarge?” Edwards slurred, sitting up. His gaze was unfocused. “Why did you hit me?”
A rifle coughed behind her, and Hannan spun to assess the situation. Mills had fired, but there was no sign of whatever he’d been aiming at. The doorway was clear, though Mills had the stock of his rifle set against his shoulder and was clearly scanning for targets.
Something glided through the door, another of the near-invisible figures. It shimmered into view and extended a trio of crackling energy blades from its wrist, ramming them into the wall where Mills’s face had been a split second before. Mills fell onto his back, attempting to raise his rifle in time to get a shot off.
Hannan knew he’d never make it, and she was too far away to stop the Judicator from ending her friend’s life.
Then Izzy was there. The cat leapt into the air, her tail brushing the ceiling as she came down on the Judicator like a whirlwind. She raked the claws of her right hand into the Judicator’s back, sending up a shower of sparks. Then she rammed her rifle forward, burying the humming bayonet into the Judicator’s back.
The Judicator’s cloaking field faded entirely, finally revealing its appearance long enough for Hannan to get a good look. The limbs were too thin to be human, and were obviously made from some sort of composite alloy; it looked to be the same alloy used on their ships. The thing had no mouth, just a pair of glowing blue eyes. It looked robotic, though the orange fluid leaking from its chest suggested it was organic.
It raised its rifle, aiming for Izzy. Before it could fire, Mills’s rifle coughed, and the Judicator’s chest caved in. It stumbled backwards, and Izzy used the momentum. She swung her rifle like a club, flinging the Judicator back into the hallway, and dove to the right of the doorway just in time. Another wave of flame and concussive force shot through the doorway as the Judicator exploded.
“These things are a real pain in the ass,” Edwards called, pulling himself to his feet. He looked dazed, but otherwise unharmed.
“Let’s get moving, folks. We need to reach the CIC as quickly as possible,” Hannan ordered.
50
Hold
Nolan had never seen Dryker’s ready room so crowded. Officers from both factions lined either side of the metal table, and the chairs had been stacked in a corner to take up less room. The table’s surface displayed a map of the ship, with red dots everywhere they’d had a report of a Void Wraith encounter.
“They’re definitely making a push for the bridge,” Dryker said, wiping sweat from his forehead. “We have teams on both B and C decks that are making their way here, but I don’t know if they’ll be here in time to push them back.”
“The Void Wraith could have been here by now if they’d wished,” Fizgig observed, blinking down at the map. “I believe they are being thorough, systematically wiping out all resistance on their way here.”
“She’s right,” Nolan agreed, tapping three different locations on the map. “We’ve had fire teams go down here, here, and here. They’re clearing a path to us, and they’re wiping out everything they can between them and us. If they keep going at that rate, they’re going to hit us in the next few minutes. All our Marines were in the shuttle bay, so we’ll be virtually undefended.”
“Not undefended,” the big male Tigris growled. “There are six Tigris here. We will hold this doorway until we receive reinforcements.”
“Captain?” Nolan asked.
“Go with him, and take all able-bodied bridge crew with you,” Dryker commanded. He gave Nolan a sober look. “Nothing gets through that door. Nothing.”
“What about the cube?” Lena asked.
“That stays here with us,” Dryker said. “And so do you.”
&n
bsp; “Acknowledged,” Nolan said. “Juliard, Ezana, you’re with me.” He pushed past the Tigris until he reached the hatch leading back into the CIC.
“We’re with you too, human,” the male said. “I am called Khar. Remember my name. It will be the name that saves you.”
Nolan ignored the cat, hurrying into the CIC and giving the place a quick survey. The room wasn’t designed as a fall back position. They could use monitors and computers as cover, but that seemed like a bad idea. If the computers were shot up, controlling the ship might not be possible. Of course if the crew were shot up, then there would be no one left to fly the ship anyway.
“Fan out,” Nolan said. “Get whatever cover you can, and make sure you’ve got overlapping fields of fire. We need to gun down anything that comes through that door.” He moved for the captain’s chair, turning it around so the back faced the hatch leading into the corridor. It wasn’t amazing cover, but he hoped the thick steel backing would ward off at least a shot or two.
“Commander,” Juliard yelled, her voice tinged with panic. “The B deck hatch just opened. We don’t have any fire teams in that area.”
“Get ready for contact, people,” Nolan bellowed. He gripped his pistol in both hands, ready to take a shot at whatever came through that doorway. “Khar, we’ve got nothing but small arms. You and your people are going to have to do the heavy lifting.”
“Fear not, human.” Khar gave a fanged grin. “My people will protect you.”
Something shimmered in the doorway. Before anyone could react two bursts of blue energy shot into the room. The first took a cat in the face, and the Tigris dropped limply to the ground. She didn’t rise. The second shot caught the monitor Juliard was hiding behind, sending up a shower of sparks and momentarily dimming the lights.
“Fire,” Nolan roared, squeezing the trigger as fast as he could. The pistol bucked, sending a slug toward where he hoped the Judicator’s head was. Its shimmering field dropped for a moment, exposing the emotionless metal face. Then other weapons fired—pistols from the humans, and the larger slug-throwing rifles the Tigris favored.
The Judicator staggered backwards, pushed through the doorway by the combined fury of both races. It staggered to the ground, crashing and not rising.
“Take cover,” Nolan yelled. He ducked behind the captain’s chair. A moment later a wash of heat and flame passed overhead. A mewling scream came from the doorway. Nolan glanced up. One of the cats hadn’t gotten into cover in time.
Two more shimmering figures reached the doorway and began firing. Another cat went down, then another. Only Khar and two of his soldiers remained, all three behind cover. The Judicators were playing it smart, eliminating the largest threats first.
Nolan sighted down his barrel, then squeezed off two shots. He tagged one of the Judicators in the neck, sending up a spray of sparks. It ducked back into cover, leaving its companion alone in the doorway.
“For the Leonis!” Khar bellowed. He rose from cover, sprinting at the doorway. The Judicator fired, but the big golden cat was ready. He vaulted over the shot, twisting in the air, and came down with his bayonet extended. It sank into the Judicator’s head, all the way to the hilt.
Khar pressed a button on his rifle, and the bayonet detached. Then he planted a foot against the Judicator’s chest and kicked with all his might. The Judicator was flung back into the hallway, past its companion. Khar ducked back into the CIC, taking shelter next to the doorway. A moment later another wall of flame shot through the doorway, this time not harming anyone.
“I told you, human,” Khar said, laughing manically. “We will protect you.”
“Movement,” Juliard yelled. “I see at least four of them incoming.”
“Damn it,” Nolan muttered. This couldn’t be their main force, but that might not matter. Most of the Judicators were still spread on the lower decks wiping out the crew, but even the handful they were facing seemed likely to overwhelm the bridge if they didn’t get some help.
51
CIC
“Let’s move, people,” Hannan said, grabbing Edwards by the forearm and hauling him to his feet. Izzy darted to the doorway, peering cautiously through the smoke. Her nose twitched, then her ears. Finally she turned back to Hannan, and gave her a nod.
Mills finished refilling his clip, slammed it into place, then joined them. He paused next to Izzy, meeting the cat’s gaze. “You saved my ass back there. I won’t forget it.”
Hannan could only blink. Mills rarely strung that many words together, and she’d never heard him express gratitude before. And to a Tigris?
“We have a saying,” Izzy said, clapping him on the shoulder. “The count is not done until the battle is done. You may return the favor, and if you do there is nothing to be thanked for. If not, thank me then.”
Mills nodded, and Izzy leapt into the hallway. Hannan let Edwards and Mills follow, before finally bringing up the rear. Back when she’d been a private she’d loved taking point, but one of the first lessons her sergeant had drilled into her was the need for command to be in a position to assess. Those who led from the front usually died at the front, and when they went down their troops were either routed or wiped out. Smart commanders knew that.
They moved up the corridor, turning down the T intersection and finally entering the barrel of the gauss rifle—a smooth-walled tube, twenty feet in diameter, that extended the length of the ship. A quick glance in either direction showed no signs of movement. Hannan had been worried that this might be a potential target. The pair of massive magnetic generators at the aft of the ship propelled a hunk of dense metal up the barrel. If that happened with the barrel closed, the resulting kinetic force would be transferred into the ship. It was as close to a self-destruct as the Johnston had, and something she didn’t want to see exploited.
The doorway they’d entered from was set into a recessed alcove, and there was a matching one on the other side of the barrel. Since the place was empty, Hannan waved Izzy forward, and the Tigris darted across the barrel to the other door. Edwards moved next, then Mills, and finally Hannan. It all felt a little easy, but she wasn’t about to question her good fortune.
As soon as Izzy opened the hatch, they heard the sounds of gunfire. Bullets ricocheted off walls, and occasionally they heard the telltale explosion of a Judicator detonating. The screams became less and less frequent as they advanced up the C deck corridor. It was sobering, and they all knew what it meant. The Judicators were winning, and if something didn’t change it would only be a matter of time before they took the ship.
“How much longer to your bridge?” Izzy asked. She’d paused next to an open hatchway that led to the aft causeway.
“Another hundred yards,” Hannan called back. She paused next to Izzy, peering through the hatch and up the causeway. “Might take us four or five minutes.”
“I don’t hear any gunfire here,” Mills said.
“Sounds like combat is mostly confined to A and B decks,” Edwards replied. He leaned his M-601 against his knee, planting his butt against the wall. His chest was heaving from exertion, and Hannan could tell from his breathing that he was running on fumes.
“Less talk, more walk,” she barked, jerking her head to indicate that Izzy should move through the hatch.
Izzy did so, and the others followed. Hannan brought up the rear. While she was just as exhausted as the others, she was very careful not to show it. Morale was the second thing her first sergeant had taught her about. It didn’t matter how much you hurt. You never showed weakness in front of your men.
They crossed the causeway, which had short stairwells set every twenty feet. They advanced over the engines, then began looping back into the main body of the ship. Eventually they reached a hatch leading to A deck. The hatch was closed.
Izzy knelt next to it, then turned to face them. “I can’t hear anything on the other side.”
“Open it,” Hannan ordered. Mills slung his rifle over his shoulder, then bent to the hatc
h. He spun the wheel, pulling the door towards them.
Izzy was through the tube in a flash of white, quickly followed by Edwards. Hannan dropped to one knee, scanning the corridor beyond with the barrel of her rifle. She could hear faint screams in the distance, broken by sporadic gunfire. It was weaker here than it had been on C deck.
Once Mills was through, Hannan shot to her feet and trotted after him. Her squad leapfrogged their way across the starboard side of A deck. They circled wide, hugging the outer hull of the ship until they no longer had a choice. Then they shifted inward, making for the CIC set into the heavily armored core of the ship.
The gunfire grew louder as they approached the CIC, and a massive explosion echoed down the corridor. The gunfire paused, then resumed a moment later. It was mostly small arms fire, which Hannan found alarming. Fighting these things with pistols was a quick way to get killed. She was thankful that at least a few of the shots were the deep booms she’d come to associate with Tigris rifles.
“Izzy,” Hannan called, softly. The cat’s ear twitched, and she shot an inquisitive look Hannan’s way. Hannan glided forward until she’d gathered all four squad members and they were crouched a few feet from the corner of a T intersection. “This is it. As soon as we round this corner, we’ll have a view of the hatch leading to CIC.”
“How do you want to do this?” Edwards asked.
“We wait until we hear another push. The Judicators engage the bridge crew,” Hannan said. “Once they’re engaged, we throw everything we have at them from behind. Down every target you can. If they pursue us, fall back around this corner.”
“Simple, but effective. I like it,” Izzy said, nodding. Her tail swished endlessly against the floor, which Hannan assumed was an indicator of stress. If so, Izzy hid it well.