by Nate Johnson
Sergeant Smith laughed and turned to leave.
“Bayonets?” Alicia asked.
“Yeah, don’t forget, the Marines are mostly used for minor warlords, gang stuff, rebellions, and protests. Things the local police can’t handle. If it gets too big, the Navy takes care of it. Well, with protests, we’ve found that when the protesters start marching towards us. We just fix bayonets and suddenly, they lose all interest.
“They know we don’t want to shoot, bad publicity, but they aren’t going to throw themselves onto our cold steel. That would be suicidal, and the Marines wouldn’t get blamed. If they hesitate, we start marching towards them. You’d be amazed how quickly some people find somewhere else they would rather be.
She smiled. It made perfect sense.
Again, she leaned back and rested against the wall. He sat there, his leg leaning on hers.
“How about you?” he asked, his brow furrowing with concern. “How you holding up?”
She shrugged her shoulders. What could she say? That she would have nightmares about this day for the rest of her life. That she was terrified for her brother Stephan? That having no word from her mother and her other two brothers was eating at her soul. And oh, yeah, they might all be killed and eaten within the next few hours.
But how could she complain? She’d held too many Marines as they slipped off into death. She’d washed and worked on too many wounds. These men were dying for her and her people. It seemed churlish to whine about her problems.
“I’m hanging in there,” she replied.
He studied her for a long moment and she could tell he saw the doubt and fear just below the surface.
She tried to stare back at him but was unable to meet his look. He saw too much, he could read her too well.
“Listen,” he said as he drew close to whisper into her ear. “If I give you the word, you grab Stephan and run. Leave the wounded. Leave the old and sick, you run.”
She felt the color drain from her face, how could he say that to her? She couldn’t leave her people.
He stared back at her, trying to use his force of will to get her to do what he wanted.
“I’d send you now, but I don’t think you’d go.”
“You’re darn right we won’t go,” she hissed back at him, being careful to keep her voice down.
He nodded. “I understand, but If I give you the word, you go. Period. No arguments, no hesitation. It will be the only chance you have. If you get around the second bend in the Rift without being seen, there is a chance the Scraggs won’t know you’re gone. Run like the wind, get out of the Rift the first chance you get. There might be an opening at the other end. The Scraggs might not be in the way. Or, General Smyth may have already won.”
“We can’t leave,” she said. “I can’t leave the older ones.”
He grimaced and said, “You’re the only chance the children will have. If you don’t get them out, then this was all a waste. We will have died for nothing. Do you understand?”
She froze in place, he was sure he and his men would not survive. She could see it in his eyes.
“We’re not leaving,” she said as forcibly as she could. “I am not leaving you,” she added to make sure he understood.
He looked back at her, his eyes growing misty for a brief moment before he pulled himself back to reality.
“You will if you care about me at all,” he said. “If you care about me as much as I care about you. Then you will do this.”
She stared at him, unable to believe what she had heard. Continuing to stare, she saw the silent pleading in his eyes. A long quiet moment passed between them, then, at last, she nodded her head. She couldn’t fail him, she realized. He needed this if he was going to be able to do what he needed to do in the upcoming battle. He and his men would hold this position. There would be no more retreat.
He and his men would die. The least she could give him was the illusion that she and the children had gotten away.
Sighing, she nodded, then leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. It might be her last moment with this man. She would not fight him on this, not make his job harder. Instead, she would soak up the memories. He deserved that and so much more, she thought as she pondered the future without him.
Chapter Twenty
Admiral McKenzie leaned forward and let the hot water rush over him. They’d done it, he thought to himself over and over. They had actually done it. The Empire was saved. At least for now.
Turning, he let the hot shower pound into his shoulders, massaging away the tension and anxiety that had built up ever since he had seen that first video over a month earlier. So many things could have gone wrong.
What if the Scraggs hadn’t left orbit, instead insisting they fight inside the gravity well of the planet? What if they had chosen to attack instead of running? Or if his tactics hadn’t worked, or the men hadn’t been so proficient with the guns? So many things had to go right to get to this point.
Sighing, he tried to push the worry and doubt away. They had won, enjoy it. Revel in it. Heaven knew his men were.
Smiling to himself, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping himself in a towel. They’d won, but there was still so much to do. Professor Sinclair was badgering him about letting her go on one of the boarding parties. She insisted on seeing the Scraggs in their own environment. And speaking of the Scraggs, the boarding parties were returning with hundreds of prisoners. What was he to do with them?
They couldn’t communicate. Their ships were useless junk floating in space. Unable to move, in many cases having difficulty providing life support. He couldn’t let them just die. Well, he could. But it wouldn’t be right.
Pulling on a fresh uniform, he paused and thought about the problems before him. One, he needed to make sure nothing came through their jump point. And if it did, it needed to be destroyed immediately. Two, he needed to get these prisoners to Intrepid. Three, once the planet was secure, he needed to help the civilians recover, make sure they were taken care of. And deal with all the new prisoners from the ground combat.
His stomach turned over. Intrepid? They still hadn’t had any word from the planet. For all he knew, the entire landing force could have been wiped out. All of the civilians dead, and eaten by these monsters. He just didn’t know. It’d be hours before they were close enough to pick up their signal.
It seemed like the list of problems was growing by the minute. He needed to get his fleet fixed, the dead buried, and the wounded taken care of and save a planet. A thousand things all needed to be solved immediately.
Sighing, he finished dressing. That was the thing they never told you when you were a junior officer. The higher you went in the Navy, the more problems you had to solve. And you never got ahead of the game. Once one thing was finished, two more showed up.
Once he was fully dressed and presentable again, he left his stateroom and headed for the combat command center. He’d slept, eaten a full meal at a table instead of while sitting in his command chair. And showered. He felt like a new man ready to take on the day.
Stepping into the command center, he made a quick scan. Most of the seats were empty. Men were rotating through a sleep cycle. He’d had to force his staff away from their monitors and data feeds. He knew in his gut that things were done. But he knew he would need them again when they got to Intrepid.
As he slowly made sure that no one was there that shouldn’t be, his shoulders relaxed. His men had followed his orders. Of course, Professor Sinclair had not. She sat behind her monitor pouring over feeds from the other ships. Everything she could find about the Scraggs.
“Professor Sinclair?” he said as he came up behind her.
She whipped around to stare blankly back at him, her mind obviously lost in the information she was processing. “Yes, Sir?”
He smiled to himself. At least she’d taken time to grab a shower and if appearances could be trusted, a quick nap.
“Have you learned an
ything useful?” he asked.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she slowly shook her head, “No, not really. They are surrendering. No last minute holdouts. No sabotage. It’s like a complete collapse. When the boarding parties arrive, the Scraggs lay down on their backs. Like dogs submitting to the alpha.”
He nodded, her analogy made sense.
“What else?”
“Not much else. We can’t talk to them. We can’t decipher their writing. The boarding parties have been unable to figure out their propulsion system or really anything. It’s going to take us quite some time to learn what we need to know.”
He nodded, it was what he had feared.
“Well, that is one thing we are not going to have a lot of. At some point, their home planet is going to wonder what happened and is going to send someone to find out. My biggest worry is that the someone is stronger and more powerful than the last expedition.”
She smiled weakly, “We’ll find something, Sir, I am sure of it.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said with a comforting smile. “But do not run yourself into the ground. We need to be fresh and fully functioning. Don’t push yourself so hard.”
She studied him for a moment and then said, “Does that apply to you as well, Admiral?”
He laughed. “The difference is that I’m an Admiral. Everyone knows that we never get tired or worn down. It’s not part of the job description.”
She shot him a quick grin and then turned back to her reports.
“Commander Evans,” he said as he took his command chair. “I see that you have ignored my orders about getting some rest. Have you even left your station?”
“Sir,” the commander said as he stood up. “Yes sir, I have left it.”
Admiral McKenzie slowly shook his head, he noticed that the commander had not mentioned for how long. And the stale sandwich sitting to the side of his station let the admiral know that the man hadn’t even gone to the wardroom to eat.
Shaking his head, the Admiral said, “Finish up what you are working on, then go grab some rest. You are banished from the command center for the next twelve hours. That also means you can’t spend that time in the communication room, reading reports before they get here? Do you understand? You will go to your stateroom and sleep.”
The commander’s shoulders slumped as he nodded. “Aye, aye, Sir.”
The admiral smiled at his staff member. “Tony, this isn’t over. I need you rested for the next phase.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replied. “It’s just that we should be regaining communications with Intrepid in a few minutes and I wanted to be here when the reports came in.
Admiral McKenzie frowned. “I thought we wouldn’t be close enough for several more hours.”
The commander smiled. “Captain Freeborn has his men repairing the high gain antennas. He thought you might need them, Sir. They report they should have them up any time now.”
The admiral nodded, he needed that information. The Captain had made a wise decision.
“Very well, you can wait for the reports, then grab some sleep.”
The commander smiled and sat back down.
Admiral McKenzie twisted to watch the two monitors from Intrepid, silently pushing for some kind of connection. He needed to know. His jaw slowly grew tighter and tighter while he waited. At last, the monitor on the left flickered for a moment then settled on the face of Captain Woods.
“Captain,” the admiral said, “Sorry for the disconnect. Things have been rather hectic.”
The captain nodded, his face set in a sad frown. “I’m sorry to report, Sir, Admiral Webber has died. A heart attack.”
Admiral McKenzie gasped with surprise. Admiral Webber was a good friend and a fit, robust man. The thought that he could be taken down by his own body at a time like this was shocking.
Taking a deep breath, the admiral nodded. “I am sorry,” he said, “Please report. We need to finish this so that all of our fallen will not have died in vain. Have the Reliance and Dauntless arrived?”
“Yes, Sir,” Captain Wood replied. “Just a few minutes ago. I’ve ordered them to take up position above the main landing force and provide fire as directed by Colonel Stevenson.”
The admiral looked over at the Monitor for the landing force. Still no signal.
“Sir,” the Captain began to report, “the Marines have been hit hard. We’ve lost two transports due to fire from the planet, plus almost all of the dart ships you sent us. I’ve had to back off to high orbit. But, the Reliance and Dauntless are going to have to get closer if they are going to be effective.”
Admiral McKenzie held his breath for a moment. This wasn’t over, he reminded himself. Once again, his ships, his men were going in harm's way.
“I concur,” he said, indicating the captain should continue his report.
“Once the Reliance and Dauntless are in place, I think we can end this. It’s been close, but their firepower should tip the balance. Unless these bastards have something more up their sleeve.”
Admiral McKenzie nodded. “Any word from Drakes Rift, ?” he asked, thinking back to the young Marine he had talked to earlier. He had abandoned them. He abandoned all of them. Just so he could finish off the Alien fleet.
“No, Sir,” the captain said. “We’ve had no communication with them. And I’ve lost almost every shuttle I have. I couldn’t send them help even if we had any reserves. It is going to be a while before we can stop the main force. I can’t break off the destroyers to check on them. I have to focus on protecting Colonel Stevenson and the civilians of Tannerville.”
The admiral nodded, his stomach felt sick at the thought of not rescuing the men at the Rift, but the priorities had to stand. Defeat the main alien force, protect the civilians.
“Very well,” he said, “Carry on, we should be there as soon as we can.” The response seemed so inadequate, he thought. Men were dying, he needed to be there stopping it.
Turning back to Commander Evans, he smiled gently. “There you have it, Commander,. There is nothing either you or I can do about it until we get there. Go grab some rest.”
The commander’s shoulders slumped. “Aye, aye, Sir,” he said as he started to shut down his station. The commander had almost completed his work when he suddenly froze, as his brow narrowed in confusion.
“Sir,” he said with a hesitant voice while he stared at his screen.
Admiral McKenzie’s stomach clenched into a tight ball. He knew bad news was coming. Glancing over, he checked the Steadfast’s monitor. But the captain seemed content. Their ship was burning circles in the space around the aliens jump point. They didn’t seem to be having any problems. No alarm. No panic.
“Yes, commander,” he asked, noticing that the man was re-energizing his workstation.
There was a long pause. The admiral noticed that Janet, Professor Sinclair, turned from her own workstation to see what was going on.
“Sir,” the commander said again, then paused and shook his head as if unable to believe what he was seeing.
“Spit it out,” the Admiral barked as the tension began to get to him.
“A ship, Sir. A ship just came through the wormhole.”
“Our wormhole? Not the aliens jump point?”
“Yes Sir,” the commander responded.
Admiral McKenzie frowned in confusion. Had some stupid merchant not gotten the word and wandered into the middle of a combat zone?
“Sir, it’s the Imperial Flagship, Viceroy.” The commander said, his voice rising with disbelief.
Admiral McKenzie’s heart jumped to his throat. This was impossible. The Viceroy never went anywhere without the Emperor. And no way would Admiral Jacobs let him anywhere near a combat zone.
Swallowing hard, he pulled up the data and confirmed what Commander Evans was telling him.
“Crap, what now?” he mumbled to himself.
Commander Evan’s raised an eyebrow, the admiral shook his head and pointed for the man to sit back
down and get to work. More problems. There were always more problems.
Chapter Twenty-One
Captain Dex Carter’s insides turned to mush. The Scraggs were forming up on the other side of the fighting pits. All of them. Every last rat-faced bastard in the valley. Coming together for one final push. It was enough to make a man wish he could go back to just being a sergeant again.
Three thousand of them, he thought. At least. All of them getting ready to charge. Swallowing hard, he desperately tried to figure out what to do next. They’d come pouring down the road like a flash flood through a New Kansas canyon. Nothing would stop them.
He racked his brain for some kind of plan. But there was nothing. No more tricks up his sleeve. No explosives, no hidden traps. All he had left was his men and their rifles. Oh yeah, and their bayonets, he added. As if that was going to make any difference.
His company had been whittled down to little more than a reinforced platoon. Fifty-one men between the aliens and General Smyth’s backside. Even if the initial alien force hadn’t been beefed up, they probably couldn’t have stopped them. But these number made the outcome a foregone conclusion. The Marines were going to be overrun.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to come to some kind of acceptance of what was going to happen.
Glancing at the men standing behind the first wall, he slowly shook his head. The morning light glinted off their faceplates and bayonets. He had to smile when he thought about it. Would there be any of them left by the time the Scraggs got to the wall? Would his men get a chance to use the sharpened steel? And if they did, then it was over. Because there would be no coming back from that point.
His men, he thought, and he had failed them.
They would hold, he knew. There was no doubt in his mind. They would hold until they died. Sighing, he arranged his magazines on the top of the wall and waited. Every spare magazine had been loaded. Every clip collected from the fallen men. But it wouldn’t be enough. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of all the things he would never see again.