With one hand, Gallant chopped the forearm of the first guard, breaking it—taking him out of the fight. Then he kicked the kneecap of the second guard—breaking it as well.
The third guard hit Gallant in the jaw, snapping his head back. He shook off the pain and used the flat of his right hand to chop the guard’s exposed throat, but he failed to connect solidly. Gallant blocked another punch with his left forearm and delivered a devastating right-cross shattering the guard’s face and sending blood flying in all directions.
The guards, panting—grimacing in pain—remained on the ground. They had had enough.
Gallant fled from the area.
Once he was away from the buildings and making his way through the ravines, a guard began shooting in his general direction. He tried to head to the cave, but the shooting forced him to move slower than he wanted.
He sought cover within the topsy-turvy combat environment even as his pursuers sought him.
Damn! This is going to be a test of wills, he thought.
Gallant crawled forward and crouched in a trench. He let loose a few shots at a Titan in the most exposed position. He then charged straight at a second group of three exposed aliens. Heroics were a good way to get killed, but his training paid off as he dispatched the enemy.
About sixty meters away, there were several Titans. They ducked after Gallant fired. When he reached the end of the ledge, he fired again. He thought there were several more ahead, and he crawled forward to get them. Throwing grenades, he crept forward, making for the cover behind mounds of volcanic rock. The unnerving dark was finally broken by a series of bright noisy explosions. He then withdrew.
The blinding flashes of the explosive charges he had set marked his time to escape. He saw plasma weapons shriek into the dark and leave a smoldering display of fireworks. There was another explosion, but he didn’t know who had set it off. Perhaps the Titans were using heavy weapons. The brilliant flashes of plasma weapons shrieked past him and struck a nearby rock.
What's happening?
His sight slowly returned, leaving a glare in his eyes. The attackers had no idea where he was hiding, but were laying down suppressing fire to flush him out as they moved forward. Breathlessly, he shrank behind a bolder.
It was not long before the clamor attracted more attention.
The dark swooping shadows cast by the guards wheeled toward him. He was aware of a threat to his left. It was a guard carrying a plasma rifle illuminated in a search light. Gallant didn’t wait for the onslaught, but rose to meet it, firing as rapidly as he could. The clash of their meeting was beset by white fury and burning hot plasma. The searchlight went dark as a great shadow descended like a falling cloud. A shot splashed against the stones.
That was all he could discern from his brief look. He went forward, swinging his gun from side to side. Any time he detected a flicker of motion, he aimed the gun in that direction. As he leveled his weapon, he noticed the presence of several more aliens.
With all the bravado he could muster, he thrust himself forward, firing, and killing the aliens in succession. He shook with excitement, even though the well-trained part of him responded logically by reminding him to remain calm. He thrust the images of the dead bodies out of his mind, along with the heavy thoughts that accompanied them.
Another alien appeared out of the dark and fired a handgun at him. The plasma blast grazed Gallant’s left arm, causing him to slip and stumbled with a cry of bitter pain.
As his suit automatically resealed itself, Gallant returned fire, and the face of the alien dissolved into a bloody mess.
He recognized that at this point, he didn’t have any good options.
Firing back at vague figures in the dark, he got up and ran at breakneck speed in the low gravity. He fired his plasma handgun at the aliens. They tossed a grenade, and the flash of light gave him a chance to get his bearings. Looking away, he lost his footing, bounced up, and sprawled back down across the ground. Rebounding, he continued to retreat toward his sanctuary, the cave. The nearby blinding flashes of plasma weapons again streaked past him and left a smoldering display of fireworks as they ricocheted off the rocks.
Gallant ran, gasping for breath as his oxygen supply dwindled. He hoped to reach the cave. Peering over his shoulder, he tripped on a jagged rock and crashed to the ground. He lay still, taking inventory of the pain as he groaned softly. A sudden wave of nausea swept over him. He had to move and move fast, but before he could do so, a laser shot struck him in the side, penetrating his pressure suit. The suit began losing precious oxygen until the automatic self-sealant closed the leak.
How much oxygen is left?
His body was traumatized and a sickening sense of defeat grabbed him, causing multiple convulsive stomach spasms. He vomited blood from the internal wound. The revolting, sticky red fluid spewed out into his mouthpiece. He struggled to tap down the growing panic when he couldn’t catch his breath.
He revived his inner resolve and slowly gathered his strength. He forced himself to rise and resume running. He bounced along the surface and finally found the cave where he had left his equipment. He donned his battle armor and let its automatic medical sensors activate. He sucked medication and stimulants from the fluid-dispensing straw within his helmet and then bit his lip from the searing pain. He tried to keep himself alert to prevent succumbing to shock. He felt needles enter his flesh and pump analgesics and plasma into him. He flipped on his high magnification thermal lens and took a good look around. At the same time, he used the suit’s transmitter to begin sending the data to the Wasp in orbit high above. He was tempted to order Gabriel to leave without him, but he decided he would only do that as a last resort.
After what seemed an eternity, Gabriel reported that he had received the data, but he was unable to raise the Warrior at the current distance.
Gallant asked him to try again. Again the transmission failed.
Gallant saw a guard approach the entrance to the cave. The guard began shooting, but his laser beam bounced harmlessly off Gallant’s armor. He returned fire. Then the guard got a lucky shot that struck Gallant’s jetpack, producing a prodigious hole and causing a jet stream of leaking gases that drained the fuel supply in seconds.
Gallant exchanged several more shots with the lone guard until he finally hit him. The guard fell lifelessly to the ground.
Gallant examined the wrecked jetpack. He wasn’t going to be able to patch it. His mind searched through a mass of options for a means of escape. There were none. He was trapped. There was no choice now. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Another guard closed in on the cave entrance. He shot the guard, but he knew others would follow. His oxygen was running low and everything was spinning around him. He sighed a deep sigh.
He used his small EVA suit transmitter and ordered, “Gabriel, I must speak to you plainly because there is no room for debate. Listen and obey my orders exactly. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“We are in a perilous situation. My EVA is damaged, and I can’t take off from the moon. If we work together, rapidly and resolutely, we can still complete our mission. But the chances of one or both of us surviving are small indeed.”
Gallant was sickened by the words he was now forced to speak, “Gabriel, this data must get through no matter what—even if it kills me—even if it kills you. Resolve yourself to that, and fight like you never thought possible.”
“I will, sir.”
“Try transmitting the data one more time.”
Gabriel tried again to transmit the data, but again he failed. His transmitter was not powerful enough to bridge the distance.
“No go, sir.”
“OK, that’s it. I’m ordering you to leave me and head for the Warrior. Transmit the data continuously until you get through. When you reach the ship, you are to dock and make no attempt to rescue me. The Warrior is to exit the area. Is that clear?”
“Sir?”
“I asked if that
was clear,” said Gallant as forcefully as he could manage.
“Yes, sir.”
Gallant added softly, “Go. It’s all right. Go.”
Gallant monitored his radio as the Wasp departed orbit and streaked away from Pandora.
The Wasp flew toward its mother ship, all the while transmitting the crucial data and waiting for an acknowledgement.
But the only signal Gallant heard over the radio was, “Captain, the Wasp is experiencing harmonic fluctuations again. I can’t control it.”
Gallant realized that the strain of flying the Wasp while maintaining the stealth containment field was proving too difficult under the stressful circumstance and when an anomaly appeared in the harmonic frequency, Gabriel had a problem keeping it in eurythmic balance.
“I’m using my neural interface to try and restore the power imbalance, but the stealth field is acting up and I’m losing power. The ship is becoming exposed as the cloaking field dims.”
A nearby Titan destroyer picked up traces of the Wasp and began firing its lasers at the unexpected target.
The fragile ship was hit and crippled—for the young midshipman, it was as if the heavens had fallen down upon him. There was no sensation of the damage itself, but air leaked from the ship.
“I have a hull rupture!” Gabriel’s panicked voice blared over the radio.
“What’s happening?” asked Gallant.
The destroyer fired and hit the Wasp again.
“I’ve been wounded,” came over the radio.
Gallant pictured the midshipman’s youthful face disfigured, splattered with blood.
More explosions continued to reverberate against the hull of the Wasp. This wasn’t a time for poor choices. One mistake could be his last. Gabriel reported that he was attempting to patch a major leak. He worked with energy trying to clear away the wreckage, but the loss of oxygen was disconcerting.
Gallant waited for each precious radio message explaining Gabriel’s situation, but time was a thief taking precious options away.
Finally, Gabriel said, “I got through! The Warrior acknowledged receipt of the data! They got it!”
Gallant breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to be happy at the news, but he was wounded and marooned on Pandora, and Gabriel was wounded and under attack in the Wasp.
Gabriel radioed, “I can’t control the power to the stealth field and operate the damaged ship.”
A moment later he said, “The destroyer is launching a spread of missiles. I can’t cloak the ship. I’m defenseless.”
A minute later, Gallant could make out a bright flash overhead that could only be the coup de grace for the Wasp—and the death of Michael Gabriel.
An unbearable sorrow flowed over Gallant.
CHAPTER 31
Band of Brothers
Gallant was uncertain how much time had passed while he lay on the ground bleeding in his battle armor, lost in thought,
Someone has to fight, but during combat—inevitably—somebody dies. You hope it isn’t you, but when it happens to your shipmate, that’s painful, too. You carry on, but you question yourself. You force yourself to believe that that death mattered.
Wounded and stranded on Pandora, death was also waiting for him. He selfishly thought about his pain and his predicament until, finally, he found acceptance. It was better to lie still and wait than agitate over something he could not change. So he closed his eyes and waited for oblivion—it didn’t come. But with absolutely stunning clarity, he understood that he had failed both Gabriel and himself. The distress of his failure hit home with a vengeance. He had experienced loss before, but the depth of his sorrow over the death of his young charge humbled him. He should’ve foreseen that outcome—he had not. The only saving grace was that the vital information had been sent to the Warrior, and she was safe.
He cherished that thought and found it comforting until, to his utter astonishment, he picked up another radio transmission.
“Gallant . . . Come in . . . Gallant. Report your location.”
What? Who?
“Gallant, this is Clay. I’m in the Hummingbird in orbit over Pandora. I need your exact location.”
His illusion of the Warrior’s safety shattered, Gallant switched on his homing beacon. Dazed and shaken, he struggled to his feet.
“Damn it, Clay! What are you doing here?”
“Roberts decided we should come and get you. The Warrior entered orbit in stealth mode, and I flew the Hummingbird to Pandora looking for you.”
“The Hummingbird is a single-seat craft with no stealth capability. Only a complete fool, or a suicidal maniac, would try to reach me.”
“At your service, sir,” said Clay with a flamboyant flare. “I’ve stripped the craft bare. I should be able to squeeze you in.” Clay’s plan was unprecedented and, obviously, had been devised on the spur of the moment. Nevertheless, he was known as a man of original ideas, not to mention unbridled courage.
It was difficult to overestimate the danger Clay had placed himself in. He had flown an exposed, unarmed small craft into the middle of an enemy stronghold. He was over a heavily fortified moon filled with sensor arrays and missile batteries. There were numerous patrol ships in the area and heavily armed cruisers. The flippant attitude he displayed only served to heighten Gallant’s concern.
“What about the data?” Gallant asked.
“Gabe passed it to us before the Wasp was destroyed. We relayed the data to Base Kepler for retransmission to Mars,” said Clay. “We’ve done our job. Our mission is complete. All that’s left is to collect our misplaced skipper.”
“I failed Gabriel,” confessed Gallant.
“Save your soul searching until we get back.”
Gallant said, “I specifically ordered Roberts not to hazard the Warrior in a rescue attempt.”
Clay offered his unorthodox advice: “Life occasionally gives you a second chance, skipper. Just live with it.”
Gallant brooded until he saw the Hummingbird slip over the horizon, clear evidence that Clay had the courage of his convictions.
“I’ve got a fix on you, skipper. I’ll be there in two minutes. Be ready to move quickly.”
When the Hummingbird touched down, Gallant scampered toward it. An alien opened fire with a plasma rifle from several hundred meters away. Gallant clambered aboard the small craft, stripped off his battle armor, and threw it from the ship. Hurriedly he reached for a first aid kit and searched for a bandage.
Clay wasted no time in taking off and climbing into space fully aware that Titan patrol ships would soon be after them. They raced toward the Warrior, but the exposed Hummingbird was quickly spotted by the same destroyer that had dispatched the Wasp. The alien ship turned on an intercepting course, but so did the Warrior.
“You’ve given that destroyer a good point to aim at,” Gallant said. “Let’s hope he takes his time before shooting.”
As the destroyer closed on the Hummingbird, the Warrior silently crept up on the destroyer.
“Sound general quarters!” the OOD ordered.
The weapons batteries were ready with nervous fingers on the trigger when Roberts dropped the Warrior’s stealth cloak. They drew a bead on the enemy and fired the ship’s FASER cannon directly at the destroyer’s midsection. With unerring accuracy, the weapon team’s aim was on target; the cannon scored a direct hit.
Ignoring the vulnerable Hummingbird, the destroyer retaliated by launching four missiles at the Warrior.
GAllant's eyes were blinded by the flash of the explosion. He blinked repeatedly as he tried to find his vision.
The Warrior hurled several antimissile missiles and deployed decoys. The sloop’s countermeasures proved effective; none of the alien’s missiles exploded close enough to do any real damage.
The wily destroyer then reversed course and began zig-zagging as it prepared to let another salvo fly. In desperation, the Warrior fired, but the Titan ship continued to attack. The adversaries exchanged several more shots before
there was an explosion that seriously damaged the Titan ship. Everyone on board the Warrior was relieved when they saw the enemy ship change course and limp away. But several other enemy warships were now approaching the area, drawn to the conflict.
Clay brought the Hummingbird to the Warrior and docked inside the launch bay. As soon as the Hummingbird was secured, Roberts chose the prudent decision to seek shelter, and he ordered, “Engage stealth mode, full power.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
The Warrior’s cloaking containment field expanded and the ship disappeared from the enemy’s view.
“Helm, return to base course. Get us out of here!” ordered Roberts.
“Aye aye, sir.”
When Gallant reached the bridge, his first words were, “Roberts, I specifically ordered you not to attempt a rescue. Your duty was to safeguard the Warrior and our mission.”
“Oh, hell, I never took that order seriously,” said Roberts with a completely out-of-character grin.
“Why not?” asked Gallant flabbergasted.
“Because I didn’t think there was a snowball’s chance in hell we’d get away from Pandora alive,” Roberts said deadpanned.
Gallant could offer no rebuttal.
“Besides, I already transmitted the critical data to Base Kepler. Our mission was complete, so I felt free to make a command decision and make an attempt to pull you out,” concluded Roberts, looking self-satisfied.
Gallant sunk into his command chair and let Roberts navigate the ship to safety. Soon they were well away from pursuing aliens and back at Base Kepler, recharging their stealth battery. They remained there quietly listening for the civilian communications being broadcast from Mars.
***
“The trouble with the spy business,” Gallant said, “is that it’s left to someone else to act. You’re forced to wait unending hours to find out if your labors have paid off.”
Roberts nodded.
It wasn’t until ten days later that they were both gratified to hear the welcome broadcast from Mars. The entire crew listened in rapt attention as the announcement described a great battle that had been waged around Mars with this result:
Henry Gallant and the Warrior (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 3) Page 17