War Without Honor

by J. R. Geoghan

“Lord, they could be reorganizing for a counterattack. The second phalanx is heavily engaged and not as damaged at their lead phalanx. The scenario is still in flux.”

  That did it. The Prime would get a single volley, and no more. He turned to the aide. “Target the human ship and fire a volley of medium-range projectiles.”

  “Lord, they are almost out of range for that weapon.”

  “Then you better fire now, before it is too late.” Xylan turned away without listening to the subsequent exchange of orders. He knew that the ship carried more medium-range projectiles than any other stock; the short-range and long-range were prized when needed. He had taken his shot; if the humans escaped perhaps it would be because the seven suns willed their survival. Either way, Xylan had a battle to win.

  Chapter 33

  Charon Station, Outer Sol System

  Kendra paced up and down the length of the concourse, unable to settle into one of the plush first-class seats arrayed along the massive space windows. Small groups of travelers passed her every so often, and she avoided eye contact on each occasion. She could sense their stares, however; away from the isolation of the military, Kendra was just starting to realize how well-known her face was.

  At that moment she happened to pause in front of a reflective section of glass wall. She stood back, hands on hips, to take stock of what they found so interesting. Although the dark gray uniform hardly flattered, still cut a nice figure for a woman entering her midlife. Not the trimmest she could be when she put her mind to exercising, but still curvy where it mattered. Her dark-brown hair was slowly growing out of the regulation bun—soon she’d let it down altogether. Pale skin framed golden-blue eyes. Her mother’s eyes. Thin, business-like lips that almost never saw decoration. Or a man’s touch, for that matter.

  A ghostly image of Ybarra floated in front of Kendra’s mind and she experienced mixed emotions. A first desire to reach for him was replaced by a flash of anger and self-loathing that caused his smiling visage to dissipate. She opened her eyes, not realizing that she’d closed them.

  Two younger woman passed behind her. She heard them whispering. Will I get used to this? I’m not sure I want to be a star.

  “Admiring yourself in the mirror, Captain? Didn’t think you’d be going soft so quickly.”

  Kendra spun at the familiar voice. Travers was standing to one side, hands on his hips and a wide smile on his face.

  She walked over and took his hand warmly. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

  “They cut my orders as soon as we were debriefed. As the acting second officer…” he glanced down. “As the acting second I signed for the escape pod and completed your action report.”

  Kendra laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to see you or Alician afterward, they whisked me off to Command. How is she?” She motioned for Travers to walk alongside her and they started off up the concourse.

  “She was assigned to Command—your sister Kaela’s section—intelligence, I think.”

  Kendra nodded. Kaela oversaw operations and intelligence fell under that purview.

  “This is a nice station,” Travers waved at the starfield illuminating the massive windows. “Big.”

  “You headed to Coloran?” That would be the logical reason a Fleet transferee would be at Charon Station.

  He nodded. “The orders say Fleet Propulsion Science Division.”

  Kendra was impressed. “You’ll have a great time learning there. I had a chance to visit and study under a few of their researchers.” She laughed. “You know, your scores are significantly better than mine.”

  Travers stopped. “Captain—”

  “Call me Kendra. You’ll be a Captain yourself next time I see you, unless I miss my guess.”

  “I’m sorry about the Carillion.”

  Moisture edged her eyes as she turned away so he’d not see it. The stars were fuzzy beyond the window. “Me too, Travers. Me too.” Death was very close to anyone living on the front lines of the Praxxan War. She had pushed the memories back.

  He seemed to sense that. With a quick salute he said, “I’ll see you on the transport flight.”

  When she finally dried her eyes and looked around, she was alone.

  Fifteen minutes later she was back in her room, stripping off her jacket and holding in her hands. Kendra fingered the uniform collar with the Captain’s insignia displayed prominently. Despite the welcome reunion with her Propulsion Officer, his presence reminded her afresh of her losses.

  She sat on the edge of the sleep cell and put her face in her hands. The tears that had started on the concourse now flowed freely, and her shoulders rose and fell with sobs as she allowed herself to finally express the grief that had lived behind her tough exterior for the last few days.

  Aboard Imani - Sol System

  “Wake up.” Someone was shaking him. Had he drifted off?

  Halloran stretched and attempted to crack his neck. Everything seemed to hurt at the same time. “What…”

  Djembe was up and poking at him. “Your people want you. We are well out of the inner system.”

  Gratefully, Halloran unfolded himself from the copilot seat and climbed back from the cockpit area. Standing at the entrance to the main compartment, he stood to his full height and stretched. Despite the headache, aching ribs and shins—still smarting from Praxxan kicks—he was in thankfully good condition. The stretch felt wonderful and Halloran suddenly realized how hungry he was.

  But first, the crew.

  He climbed through the bulkhead and into the cargo bay.

  “Captain on deck!”

  Halloran returned Reyes’ salute, then grasped his shoulder tightly. “Good to see you, Abran.”

  The shorter man’s eyes had a mist in them. “Sir, your uniform is a mess. You’ve got an image to keep up, may I remind you.”

  “Maybe later, Chief. Let’s line ‘em up, won’t you?”

  Halloran caught the haunted look in the back of Reyes’ eyes as he turned away. He made a mental note that the man wasn’t whole yet.

  “Present for inspection!”

  Halloran stepped forward into the crowd of camo uniforms. “Okay, okay, just line up and let’s do a quick inventory, people.” He noticed the alien Axxa standing with Deacon watching everyone from a corner, and remembered that things were complicated. He looked back toward the cockpit and saw Antonov and Djembe, the latter with his arms folded and a pensive look on his face. For his part, the Russian looked like he was enjoying watching the crew attempt to assemble.

  The line was ragged, but appreciated after all they’d been through. Reyes was there, speaking softly in his ear. “Thirty-one accounted for, sir. I counted ten of our people with Commander Chandler when they took off, plus the two Chinese officers.” He looked serious. “Menendez was on guard and bought it before we took off.”

  Halloran nodded. “Let’s start at this end first. Yeoman Taylor, how are you feeling?”

  The solid, black-haired young man nodded. “Confused, sir, but no injuries.”

  The Captain shook his hand. “Excellent. We’re going to need you, stay sharp.” He moved to the next. “Malone. Missing your sonar yet?”

  The technician smiled. “A bit, sir.”

  “You injured?”

  “Cracked a rib, I think. Hurt to breathe sometimes. Feels much better now that Doc gave me a miracle wrap.”

  Halloran nodded, bewildered, and looked at Reyes who was following him.

  “Corpsman Whitney was going through the group before you arrived, sir. The pilot gave him some sort of newfangled medical wrap.”

  “Um, good to hear.”

  Next up was Cochran. “Missile Tech, right?”

  “Yes sir. I’m, er, I was? Under Chief Gross.”

  “That’s right.” Halloran glanced at Reyes, who shook his head slightly. Gross hadn’t made it. “You hurt, Cochran?”

  “I don’t think so, sir. Could use a shave and shower, th
ough,” he added with a small smile.

  “We’ll see about that, son.”

  Petty Officer Carruthers was next. “Gail, good to see you made it.”

  She was serious. “This sucks, sir.”

  “You hurt?”

  “No, sir.”

  Halloran looked to where Antonov was standing, in conversation with Djembe. “You and him going to be okay?”

  “I’ll get over it, sir.”

  “Good to hear. I’m going to need you at a hundred percent.”

  She stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “Where are we, sir?” Several others nearby mumbled their agreement with the question.

  “Let me talk with everyone first, then we’ll all have a chat.”

  He went down the line and found that the injuries were lighter than he had feared; the worst was Seaman Perez who had a fractured left tibia according to Corpsman Elias Whitney. Someone had fashioned a crude splint from a chunk of wood grabbed somewhere in Cairo and uniform strips. The now-famous “miracle wrap” was in place, courtesy of their host. Halloran hoped it could heal a broken leg.

  Electronics Technician James had a serious wound in his calf from some debris striking him, and Whitney pointed to the lack of proper dressing materials and meds. Halloran called Djembe over. “What do you have for first aid other than these wraps?”

  “This man requires attention,” added Whitney.

  “Follow me,” ordered the pilot, who looked pointedly at Halloran. “More payment.”

  Lieutenant Hummel, the supply officer, was there. Halloran shook his hand. “Going to rustle us up some chow, Mark?”

  Hummel didn’t smile. “Sir, not sure. I know the crew hasn’t eaten more than random food bars in forty-eight hours.”

  “I understand. Go find our host and have a talk with him, see if there is a stash somewhere aboard this ship. Although it looks like he flies alone.”

  “Yes, sir. There is water in bottles, at least.”

  “Good, grab me one when you get a moment.”

  Halloran looked for Reyes, who was close by as always. “I want an accounting for everyone who went with Commanders Chandler and Singletary.”

  “Wish I had a way to do it other than in my head, sir.”

  “Well, find if anyone had a notepad or something we could use. I saw at least one backpack in the line.”

  “That was Seaman Patredes, sir. He grabbed it from his bunk when you called the ‘abandon ship.’”

  “Really? There wasn’t much time for that.”

  “His duty station was very close, sir.”

  “Alright. At least it seems than everyone got one of these translators. You should probably go back through the group and take a thorough inventory of everything we have to work with, from pencils to used tissue paper.”

  “You bet, sir. At least this boat has a proper head.”

  “I was wondering about that,” Halloran admitted.

  Reyes pointed. “Yep, even looks a lot like ours back home on the Bonny Richard. The plumbing’s the same. I guess evolution ain’t a thing after all.”

  Halloran nodded and moved to the center of the line, stepping back so everyone could see him.

  “Attention on deck!” Reyes called.

  Feet shuffled and eyes met his. Some reluctantly, some eagerly. All with a tired edge.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, so much has happened in the last—however long it’s been—that it’s difficult to process. And we all witnessed some horrible things back there…on Earth.” As he said it, Halloran felt a strong tingle run up his spine. “Yes, we aren’t on our home planet anymore. But you all already knew that.” He looked up and down the line, seeing the uniforms shifting and heads bowing. “These…” He glanced at Axxa, who seemed to shrink a little under his look. “These aliens have taken over Earth and we are in the distant future, taken by force along with the Bonhomme Richard to a new time.” He pointed to Djembe. “This man is a veteran pilot and he volunteered to airlift us out of that hellhole and get as many of us to safety as possible.”

  Carruthers piped up. “Sir, we left men behind. That’s not our way.”

  Reyes looked to shut her down but was stopped by a wave from Halloran.

  “Petty Officer Carruthers has a point. When we realized that the capacity of this transport was inadequate for our entire complement, Commander Chandler and I made the call to separate our forces.” He exhaled. “What you couldn’t see from your seats back here was that there was a significant, er, spaceship engagement taking place between human forces and these aliens as we left the Earth.” He let that sink in a moment. “Captain Antonov and I believe that this attacking force was meant as a diversion to aid our ship in escaping the alien defenses. They succeeded and we are now well out into the solar system.”

  One of the sonar techs, a bright young guy named Chapan, asked, “Sir, but why?”

  “According to our rescuer Deacon over there, the human military placed him as a plant within the alien center in order to befriend one of them and get him to defect to our side. He succeeded.”

  Dozens of eyes shifted to see Deacon and Axxa in a new light. The Earther seemed to grow several inches under their respectful gaze.

  Chief Petty Officer Parker spoke up. “Sir, that means all they want is the red guy there.”

  Halloran sighed. “Folks, we’re all alone out here.” He glanced at Antonov. “Our Russian Captain Antonov picked the wrong cruise to join our crew, as did Admiral Zhou and his aide. Our ship is stranded and we’re cut adrift. It’s my guess that no one other than the alien leader who brought us here and those with us know that we even exist in this time. Worse, our missiles are likely to be hacked by these ‘Praxxans’ and turned against our own forces.”

  Missile Technician Karen Flagler piped up. “Sir, what’s so special about our missiles? They’re advanced, yes, but if this is way in the future I don’t get it.”

  “I’m not sure yet, Flagler, but I have some suspicions. Let me work on that.” He didn’t want to tell them about the hellish scenes of destruction he’d briefly witnessed as they passed over Europe; North America would likely be the same, unless he missed his guess. “One thing I think I’m safe in assuming is that, in this future, the US Navy may not exist and we will need to rely on each other.” His tone sharpened. “Is that clear? Our job is to stick together as we make sense of this.”

  A chorus of acknowledgments filled the cargo bay.

  “Now, let’s take a minute and bow our heads in remembrance of our fallen comrades.” Several sailors who still had caps uncovered their heads as all went still as death itself, leaving just the low hum and vibrations emanating from the ship around them.

  Sixty seconds of heavy silence later, Halloran cleared his throat. “Now…”

  Machinists Mate Frank DeBartelo asked, “Sir, are we going to get back home?” It was the question at the back—front—of everyone’s mind.

  Halloran put his hands on his hips and deliberately passed his eyes over the entire group. Then, “Son, I just can’t tell you that right now. We will see what we can find out and what our options are out here, but the bottom line is that we’re stranded in the future because of the actions of this alien race. Your officers—please accept Captain Antonov in that capacity for obvious reasons—are going to work a plan out to contact human authority and see what our options are. In the meantime, tend wounds, listen to Chief Reyes and get some shuteye.” He looked at Reyes.

  “Dismissed!” The Master Chief called out.

  Well, Halloran thought as he watched Deacon watching his crew disperse with interest. Here we are. Now what?

  Chapter 34

  Aboard The Imani

  Emanuel Perez, Gail Carruthers, Mark Petrey and Elias Whitney sat on the deck of the small ship, huddled close together. Perez, a newer Seaman, had been on his first sea duty aboard the Bonhomme Richard. “Man, we need to get back. My wife will freak out.” Perez had a one-year-old boy.

  Carruthers patted the you
nger man’s shoulder. “We get it. How’s the leg?”

  “Doesn’t hurt as much now that Elias got me some pain killers from the old black guy who flies this ship.”

  Whitney nodded. “I grabbed some extra for later. Plus one of those cool healing wraps. Who knows where we’ll end up next.”

  Perez said, “We were still at the dock, though. It’s not like we were at sea and listed overdue or something. There just has to be a search underway for us.”

  Petrey said nothing—of the four friends, he was the usual quiet one. His nod conveyed what it needed to, however.

  “I was in the Control Room when it happened. You should have seen the instruments go haywire,” Carruthers noted.

  “What did the Captain do?” asked Whitney.

  “He started sorting it out, taking action.” Carruthers produced a toothpick from her pocket and began twirling it between her fingers. “I miss the XO.”

  Whitney, who as ship’s Corpsman reported to the Executive Officer, agreed. “Mr. Chandler should be here.”

  “We shouldn’t have left him behind.” She let a quiet curse fly. “We all should have stayed on Earth.”

  Petrey finally said something. “Sounds so weird to say that.” He looked around, arms over his knees which were pulled up tight to his body. “Like how do we go into space just like that?”

  Whitney made a noise. “Trigg’s got a bet going that the red alien guy goes berserk and kills us all.”

  “That’s Trigg for you.” Petty Officer Wyatt back in the nuclear section was well-known for his odd behavior aboard ship and off.

  Perez closed his eyes. “I can’t believe Mr. Rittenberg got killed.”

  Carruthers dropped another curse. “These red aliens are murderers. Don’t trust them for a moment.”

  Petrey said, “I was way in the back when we were pulled out of the ship. I didn’t see it, but I saw the bodies as we got marched away.” He shuddered.

  “Murderers. I saw everything. They cut off that Admiral’s head. Skippers’ taking it hard, I can tell.”

  “They were friends?”

  She looked at Petrey. “Yep. They went way back. Sucks, coming so soon after his family…”