by Chris Fox
“How many rounds do you have left, Mills?” Dryker asked.
“Sixteen,” Mills replied in that flat, emotionless voice. Dryker had never been sure what to make of the dour sniper, but at least he was calm. The others needed to see that right now.
“Khar, what about you?” Dryker asked.
“Eleven. After that I can use the bayonet,” the burly Tigris rumbled. He looked tired, and his fur was matted with blood, but he was still on his feet.
“Juliard, you’re left-handed,” Dryker pointed out, walking over to his comm tech. Her left arm was in a sling, and she clutched a pistol in her right. “Holster that thing. You’re more likely to shoot one of us than any of them.”
“How am I supposed to defend myself?” Juliard asked. Her eyes flashed a challenge, carrying the weight of anger and fear she’d accumulated since they’d first encountered the Void Wraith.
“You trust the Marines around you,” Dryker countered, staring her down. Juliard broke eye contact. “I need you to do what you do best. Focus, lieutenant. Use your tablet. You’re going to find us the safest route to the magnetic housing in the gauss cannon.”
“Sir?” she asked, furrowing her brow. Then her eyes widened with understanding. “You’re going to blow it up, aren’t you?”
“That’s right. For that to happen we need to move, and move quickly.” Dryker didn’t wait for the others to comment. He slung the TM-601’s strap over his shoulder and moved to the hatch that led into the wreckage that used to be the CIC.
Dryker flipped the lock and spun the wheel, then kicked the hatch open. This was the critical moment. If the Void Wraith had already sent reinforcements they were done. He stepped boldly through the hatch, scanning the room with the barrel of his TM-601. Nothing visible moved. The place reeked of ozone, and streamers of smoke still rose from a few small electrical fires, making his eyes burn.
“Move, people,” Dryker said, striding through the CIC. He stepped over Ezana’s body without pausing, then moved into the corridor. Still no sign of resistance.
Dryker increased his pace, taking a right at the T intersection. That took him towards the engines. It was out of the way, and he hoped that would mean fewer encounters with the enemy.
“Gunshots,” Khar rumbled from behind him. “They’re faint. Two decks down, maybe.”
“Not good,” Mills said, joining them. “More gunfire means more resistance. If it’s fading, then so are we. They’ve moved into the cleanup portion of their attack. We need to keep moving.”
“Take point, Corporal,” Dryker ordered.
Mills trotted obediently ahead, and they moved down the corridor until they reached the first causeway. Mills paused at the door, holding up a clenched fist. A moment later he lowered it, and darted through the doorway. Dryker came next, with Khar and Juliard trailing after.
“Contact,” Mills yelled from the far side of the causeway. He dropped to a knee, aiming his rifle at a target down the stairwell. The rifle kicked and a boom echoed through off the metal walls. Mills leapt to his feet, yelling even as he dove back onto the causeway. “Get down!”
A sharp explosion bloomed from the bottom of the stairwell. White and orange flame shot up the stairs, and the staircase distended as it heated. Dryker seized the railing with his free hand, and wrapped one leg around one of the metal bars anchoring it. Then the causeway snapped. The portion where Mills had landed dropped forty feet, and slammed into the floor.
Juliard wasn’t able to anchor herself, and began sliding down the causeway. She picked up speed on the way down, struggling in vain to catch herself against the railing. Her training finally took over, and she extended both legs beneath her, knees bent. Juliard rolled with the landing, tumbling across the floor with a pained cry. She landed in a heap not far from where Mills had fallen. Juliard was still moving. Mills was not.
Dryker uncurled his leg, and used the railing to guide himself to the floor in a controlled fall. He landed easily, hefting his rifle as he stood back up. Khar landed next to him a moment later, still cradling his huge rifle.
“Where are we?” Khar asked, looking around him.
“Right where we need to be,” Dryker replied, nodding towards the enormous magnetic generators a few dozen feet away. “That was a shortcut, though a costly one.”
He moved to Mills, placing two fingers against the sniper’s carotid artery. Nothing. The Marine stared sightlessly upward. Dryker sighed, then closed the Marine’s eyes.
56
Harvester
Nolan knelt next to the Void Wraith airlock, studying the mechanism. It was unlike anything he’d encountered, just a series of glowing crystals set into the metal. He thumbed his comm, looking up at the others. “We might have to cut through, unless anyone has an idea to get this thing open.”
“I’ve got something we can try,” Lena suggested. She reached carefully down and opened the black satchel Nolan had helped her affix to her suit, slowly withdrawing the data cube they’d recovered from Purito. “The VI is similar to what we’ve seen of Void Wraith tech. What if we wire it up to the lock?”
“If you think you can do that, give it a shot,” Nolan said. He stood back up, and took two magnetic steps away from the lock to give Lena room. “Time is critical. I don’t know how long Captain Dryker can hold off the Void Wraith, and we need to get inside and try to reach the bridge before their boarding parties return.”
Lena nodded, her golden fur floating around her in the suit as she knelt next to the lock. She began attaching wires from the cube to the door, her fingers moving more deftly than Nolan would have expected given that she was wearing bulky EVA gloves.
Nolan glanced back at the Johnston, but there’d been no change. The destroyer was still grappled by the Void Wraith on one side, and the Tigris vessel on the other. The Tigris vessel had taken a lot of damage from the Void Wraith strafing attack, but still appeared functional. The Johnston was worse off, the cumulative damage from all the recent fighting painfully evident from this distance. Gaping holes dotted the hull, from the aft wing to the wreckage of the turrets on the starboard side. It was amazing she hadn’t yet come apart.
“Fizgig, what are the odds that your crew would move over to the Johnston to help hold off the Void Wraith?” he asked, turning to face the grey-furred cat.
“They’d obey orders, but I’m not sure I should give them,” Fizgig said over the comm. She blinked once, glancing at her ship, then back at Nolan. “If I broadcast a signal, it’s possible the Void Wraith will pick it up. We shouldn’t risk revealing our location.”
“Point taken,” Nolan said. He knew himself well enough to know that this was just his mind trying to find things he could control. He turned back to Lena. She’d wired up the cube, and was now feeding a wire into the comm unit mounted to the EVA’s chest.
“I’ve got it,” she called happily over the comm. “The VI is linked to my suit via the comm panel, so we can issue orders. I’ve told it to find a way to open the door.”
A moment later, the crystals next to the door shifted from red to white, and the door slid back into the hull. Inside was an empty airlock, very similar to the one on any Fleet vessel. Nolan jumped inside, the artificial gravity dropping him to the deck as soon as he broke the plane to the airlock. He inspected the inner airlock door; unfortunately, there was no window, and thus no way to know what was on the other side.
“Everyone else inside. Edwards, you’re last,” Nolan ordered over the comm.
One by one the rest of them dropped inside. Lena came first, and she immediately started working on the inner door. It took even less time, perhaps because she now knew how the VI could interface with Void Wraith tech.
Edwards dropped into the room, and a moment later the outer door slid closed.
“It will begin pressurizing in a minute,” Lena said. Sure enough, they heard the telltale hiss of oxygen filling the room.
“That’s interesting,” Hannan said. “I wasn’t sure these things need
ed oxygen. The fact that they do is good. It’s going to be hard enough to fight our way to the bridge without wearing these bulky suits.”
“I can open the airlock door any time,” Lena said, turning back to the group.
“Before you do, I have a question,” Nolan said. He considered how best to ask it. “You said you’ve wired the VI to your comm system, right?”
“Yes, it’s linked in. Any of us could talk to it, though right now it can’t respond verbally,” Lena explained. She cocked her head inside the EVA suit. “Why do you ask?”
“You said that the VI had a complete record of what it calls the final war,” Nolan said. “That includes data about all the Void Wraith units they encountered, right?”
“It does,” Lena said. She smiled. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”
“Excellent thinking, human,” Fizgig said. Was she actually purring? “Lena, use this VI to share the tactical schematics over the comm. Commander, the visors inside the suits can be used independently, yes?”
“That’s right,” Nolan said, nodding. “If we keep the visors on after we remove the suits we’ll be able to tell friend from foe, and our HUDs will show all the tactical data available in that VI.”
“I’ll take every advantage we can get,” Hannan said. She reached up and popped the catch on her helmet, then tugged it off and dropped it on the floor. “Edwards, Izzy, let’s get changed.”
“Are we sure changing in the airlock is a good idea?” Izzy asked, making no move to remove her suit.
“Do as the human asks,” Fizgig commanded. She removed her own helmet, and began working on the rest of the suit.
Nolan did the same, and less than two minutes later the floor of the airlock was littered with pieces of their EVA suits. He took a deep breath and turned to his makeshift squad. “Hannan and Izzy, you’re first through the door. Fizgig and Edwards, you’ll be bringing up the rear. I’ll stay in the middle with Lena. Let’s move.”
Lena was now carrying the cube in one hand, and had a tablet in the other. She tapped the tablet, and the airlock door slid open.
57
Captain
Dryker rose from the console, wiping the sweat from his eyes. It mixed with soot from the smoke, leaving an oily residue on his skin. “Okay, that will do it. In about six minutes the Johnston is going to tear itself apart from the inside.”
“A noble sacrifice,” Khar said, nodding. He’d set his rifle down and was now carrying Juliard. The comm tech had twisted her ankle during her landing, but was otherwise unharmed.
“Sacrifice?” Juliard asked, her voice rising half an octave. “Captain, are we going down with the ship?”
“Hell no,” Dryker said, looking at Juliard like she was crazy. “I don’t know about you, but I plan to live.”
“How will we do that?” Khar asked, raising a bushy brown eyebrow.
“Your ship,” Dryker said, starting up the barrel of the gauss rifle. “We can follow the barrel until we hit C junction, then take that to the tube where you boarded the Johnston.”
Khar’s eyes widened, then he began to laugh. It was the oddest sound Dryker had ever heard—part rumbling laugh, part purr. “Ah, you continue to surprise me, human. Lead on, and perhaps we’ll survive the day.”
Dryker took the lead, moving at a fast walk. Both hands were wrapped around his TM-601, and he was ready to gun down anything that appeared. The weapon was heavier than he’d remembered, and his back was already beginning to hurt. He was too old for this shit.
Several tense minutes passed before they reached the C junction. Surprisingly, the hatch was open. Dryker approached it cautiously, pausing to listen next to the hatch. Nothing. He turned to Khar. “Can you hear anything beyond?”
“No, all sounds of combat have stopped. Not a good sign. They’ll be hunting for us,” Khar replied, shaking his head. Juliard had buried her face against his armor. She’d begun weeping, probably from the pain. They needed to find a medkit.
Dryker stepped through the hatch, moving swiftly up the corridor. The walls were scorched, dented, and in some places ruptured by explosions or gunfire. It tore at him to see what a mess his vessel had become.
The Johnston wasn’t a new ship. She wasn’t a battleship. She was an aging destroyer. But she’d served proudly, and…damn it, she was his ship. Seeing her die, knowing he’d signed the death warrant, was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to face.
“Khar, how will your people react when we arrive?” Dryker asked, pausing at another T intersection. He peered down both sides, but saw no movement.
“They will allow us to board,” Khar said. His breathing had grown ragged, and his movement had slowed. “After that, I do not know. They may imprison you. I am the second officer, and our first officer will need to decide.”
Dryker nodded, then started up the next corridor. They were paralleling the outer hull of the ship, which was one of the first areas the Judicators had cleared. Perhaps that was why they hadn’t met any resistance.
“How much further?” Khar asked, pausing to lean against the corridor wall.
“Not much. About a hundred meters,” Dryker said. “One more push.”
He started up the corridor, thankful that Khar moved to follow him. He knew the Tigris was exhausted, but they didn’t have time to rest. Every moment they remained on the Johnston was one moment closer to death. He checked the clock on his comm. Two minutes until detonation.
Dryker redoubled his pace, moving at a near trot as he crossed the last twenty meters. He stopped next to the airlock, which was still coupled to the Tigris vessel. The outer airlock door was open, so he stepped inside. The inner door was also open, though the matching Tigris door that formed the seal was still closed.
“Can you open this?” he asked, setting his M-601 against the wall. It was doubtful the Tigris would let him keep it anyway.
“I can,” Khar said. Gently, he handed Juliard to Dryker, then moved to the Tigris panel.
“How are you holding up, lieutenant?” Dryker asked, careful not to jostle Juliard too much.
“My ankle is throbbing, but the arm is the worst,” she replied through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry about me, though. Just get us off this ship.”
A sudden scream sounded in the distance, not more than a hundred meters away. It was abruptly cut off.
“Hurry this up, Khar,” Dryker said.
“I have it,” the cat said, and a loud purr thrummed through the airlock. The bronze Tigris door slid open, and they found themselves staring at a half-dozen rifles leveled in their direction. Khar stepped boldly forward, growling at the Tigris soldiers. “Stand down. Once we are through, close the door. Metaza, I have need of you. You will take the wounded human to our medical bay and see that she receives treatment.”
“Yes, Mighty Khar,” a tiger-striped cat said. It moved to the captain, giving a slight bob of its head. “Allow me to relieve you of this burden.”
Dryker reluctantly handed Juliard over, meeting her gaze. “It will be okay, Lieutenant. You’re going to get the treatment you need.”
“Come, Dryker,” Khar said, starting up the wide, bronze corridor. “I will take you to the bridge, where we can meet with my superior.”
58
Alpha Judicator
Nolan sprinted low and fast down the Void Wraith corridor, struggling to keep up with Lena. Tigris were natural runners, and it had been a long time since Nolan went through PT. Hannan didn’t seem to have any trouble keeping up with Izzy, and the pair were leapfrogging up the corridor ahead of them. Fizgig and Edwards brought up the rear, and each time Nolan glanced back he found Fizgig slowing to allow Edwards to keep up.
“Commander,” Hannan called from up ahead. She’d stopped next to one of the wide, arched doorways that separated the Void Wraith corridors. They seemed vaguely Egyptian, though Nolan realized that was just his brain trying to find a comfortable comparison.
“What is it?” Nolan said, struggling to slo
w his breathing as he came to a stop next to the petite Marine. Izzy had taken shelter on the other side of the doorway, and was scanning the room within.
“Take a look,” Hannan said, nodding at the doorway.
Nolan bent forward enough to see within the room. Wide stairs descended into a large chamber. The ceiling was at least thirty feet tall, and the walls were lined with giant pods. Each pod had a thick cable leading into the floor, and there was a small window on the front of each. He couldn’t see inside the pod from here, and had no idea what they might be used for.
“Lena, what do you think?” he asked, quietly.
“No idea,” she said, shrugging. “There’s nothing in the VI’s memory about this. They never made it inside a Void Wraith vessel, as the vessels self-destruct just like the Judicators.”
“Well that would have been good to know before we decided to try to take one,” Edwards said, rather sourly.
“Stow it,” Hannan said. There was a hint of warning in her tone.
“Movement,” Fizgig said, her voice just above a whisper.
A massive figure stepped into view below. It resembled the Judicators, but was taller and broader, and bristling with armaments. Nolan’s HUD blinked, then began to display information. According to the data scrolling across his screen, this was an Alpha Judicator. It was apparently a cybernetic life form, and had the armaments and armor to take down heavy mechanized units.
“Fall back,” he whispered. Everyone shuffled back a few steps, moving out of sight of the doorway. He turned to Lena. “Can you find us another way to the bridge?”
“I’m afraid not,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not even sure this is the right way. We’re going off guesswork based on the outside of the vessel. The Primo never made it to the bridge. We could try to make it around another way, but we’d be largely blind. I have no idea what we’d encounter.”