Resolute Strike (The War for Terra Book 7)

by James Prosser

  “Hornet flight, I order you to stand down,” Cruz called, knowing it was futile. “This is not part of your mission. There is no aggressive activity from the target. Stand down and return to Alpha point.”

  Instead of turning back, the Ch’Tauk unleashed bolts of plasma energy at the Gizzeen ship. The red-orange energy, vastly reduced in power inside the field, struck the armored hide of the ship and spread. Cruz was forced to roll out of position to keep from being struck by the Ch’Tauk fire. She watched the fighters race past her position, spreading out and trying to surround the ship with plasma fire. Cruz turned her ship in space and tried to come up with a solution. Their weapons and shields were nearly useless. The only advantage she had over the aggressive ships was their sensor array. She looked down at the scanner system to determine any way the advantage could be pressed, only to find a new alert. Systems all over the Gizzeen vessel were activating. The ship was coming to life under the constant barrage of energy. A lightning bolt of fear raced along Cruz’s back as she saw crackles of energy surround it.

  “Pull out!” Cruz ordered. “Get back to extraction point now! That thing is waking up.”

  “The Hive flight turned as one and began to move. The Ch’Tauk flights were still circling the larger ship, launching volley after volley of energy into it. As Cruz watched, the Gizzeen vessel seemed to glow with a pale blue energy. The glow flashed bright for a fraction of a second, blinding her sensors to the rear. She focused on their escape instead. As they crossed back into real space, her controls smoothed out and she was able to control the ship easier. She opened her comm back into the blue energy field at her stern.

  “Hornets, Hive Command is clear,” Cruz ordered. “Get out now before it’s too late.”

  “Terrans run while Ch’Tauk fights,” replied the Ch’Tauk voice. “It’s why you lost your planet then and now. We stay and fight until the battle is won.”

  Cruz swore at the comm as it snapped closed. As the Alliance fighters crossed over the lip of the crater, she slowed. As much as she hated the Ch’Tauk and their arrogance, it was against every fiber of her being to leave a wingman behind. She pivoted her ship around and came to a stop, watching as her fellow Alliance ships slowed and followed her movements. She wanted to see what the Ch’Tauk intended to do.

  The Gizzeen ship began to move. The swaying legs under the craft now seemed to be spreading wide, feeling the energy field around it. The Ch’Tauk responded by changing formation, trying to cut off any hope of escape for the vessel. Against the Alliance, the tactic might have worked, but the Gizzeen ship was only barely affected by the plasma bolts being hurled down at it. A blast of blue-white energy erupted from the Gizzeen hull—seemingly from no turret, emerging from the hull itself. Two Ch’Tauk fighters disappeared in the blinding flash, torn to atoms. The six remaining ships spread wide, hoping to minimize losses.

  “Commander,” Yen called over the comm. “Extraction is waiting. We need to go.”

  “One more minute, Yen,” Cruz called back. “I want to see this.”

  The Gizzeen ship turned now, advancing on two of the Ch’Tauk fighters even as it was being blasted by the remaining four. Cruz could see the gaping wound in the side of the ship. Her heads-up was useless outside the field, so she could not analyze if the assault was having any effect. She watched two more of the Ch’Tauk fighters vanish under the blue-white onslaught. The four remaining Ch’Tauk fighters broke off, giving Cruz some hope they might run. Instead, they swung around and opened up on the damaged section.

  The plasma bolts filled the empty space on the side of the ship, making the Gizzeen hull glow red for a moment. Cruz tried to magnify the image on her projection but the sensors failed to improve the resolution through the field. When she pulled the focus back, two more of the Ch’Tauk fighters were gone and the Gizzeen ship was moving away. The remaining Ch’Tauk ships moved around to the bow of the Gizzeen ship and resumed fire. The bow of the Gizzeen ship poured forth a deep blue energy, illuminating the two ships and making them pulsate with energy. When the light faded, the two ships were gone.. “Hive,” Cruz said quietly. “Head to extraction and mind the bumps. The sensor data is all we have.”

  The squadron turned as a unit and headed back along the crater’s depression, the battle and the victor now lost to their sight. She pushed her throttle forward and turned the ship back to full power.

  As the Vadne micro-carrier came into view, she felt the loss of Earth. The carrier had become home for her and her team and she wondered when that had happened. In any case, she would return to base and have the data analyzed. It was her duty.

  She despised the Ch’Tauk but respected their fighting spirit, and was feeling every one of her losses personally. On top of that, she had a feeling she had just witnessed the opening salvo in a war the Alliance had no hope of winning.

  2

  Battleship Resolute

  The echo of his boots against the cold metal deck reminded the captain of an earlier time. His ship was empty, or at least it felt that way. Resolute had been brought into an Alliance dry dock and torn down to her frame. Every rivet and weld had been examined and crawled over, reworked and torn out. She had the same lines as his old ship but she felt totally different. He couldn’t help believing the ship had paid the price for his actions. It had served him and he had served the mission until the mission failed to serve the Alliance. Now she was whole again and he could walk her decks, but she didn’t feel like herself. Of course, neither did he.

  Weeks of traveling the galaxy, trying to rescue a man who didn’t need rescuing and finding information that hadn’t been lost, had resulted in the capture and prosecution of his ship. It was called a re-fit but he understood what it really was. The old lady was being punished for being under his command, and so was he. Like the ship, he had been picked over and examined by too many people out to make names for themselves. In the end, he had been found justified, but a mark had been entered in his record. The worst part was the scorn he had acquired after firing on his own people. The looks on the faces of captains he respected as he walked along the wide corridors of the space station were enough to remind him of his punishment. At least he was home again. Even if home didn’t feel right.

  The sound of pounding attracted his attention. He had thought the ship near deserted this time of night, which was why he had taken the stroll along her corridors in the first place. As he came to a crossing, he looked down the hall and saw a short, stout man with an old-fashioned hammer banging away at a wall panel. The man appeared to be on fire as Lee turned down the corridor and approached. The thick red hair and occasional cursing told Lee what he needed to know well in advance of seeing the man.

  “Commander Booth?” Lee asked the engineer. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m pounding on this wall panel with a hammer,” Booth replied. “What did ya think I was doin’, sir?”

  Unable to formulate a reply to that, Lee simply stared as the Welsh engineer continued to strike the wall. Over the last few months, Lee had grown increasingly worried about the man. He had hovered over the dismantling of his beloved Resolute every waking moment. In fact, on one occasion Booth had been found sleeping, curled in a pressure suit, against an interior bulkhead while a nearby worker welded hull plating into place. Lee’s fondness for the engineer had grown to serious concern when he discovered the chief engineer had not left the dry dock in weeks. It seemed the man wanted to be present for the rebirth of his ship and had his handprints on every part of her.

  “Commander Booth,” Lee finally managed to say. “Why are you hitting that panel with a hammer?”

  Booth stopped his motion for a long moment, taking a deep drag on the thick cigar he held between his teeth. Lee had seen this affectation before. Booth believed anyone other than an engineer was beneath him. Following the breath, he would explain something to Lee as if the captain were an infant. Lee would walk away feeling silly for asking the question. It was routine and, in a strange way, comfo
rting.

  “This,” Booth said sharply.

  The man threw the hammer back and brought it down hard on a corner of the panel. There was a faint twang of a latch releasing and the entire panel popped away from the wall. Booth dropped the hammer and grabbed the edges of the panel. Lee stepped back as the engineer swung the panel away and into the corridor. Inside, Lee could see bright pipes channeling the energy and plasma-based blood throughout the vessel. An odd bright green dot of light seemed to hover over one of the pipes. Booth pulled a thick metal device from his belt and aimed it at the light.

  “The repair crew did an alright job layin’ out the new plasma conduits,” Booth said as the green dot appeared to be sucked into the tool. “They installed an imaging system every few meters to monitor the flow. Problem was, the display was routed upside down on about half the systems here. I’m havin’ ta go one at a time and turn the damn things around.”

  Lee watched as the engineer reached past a plasma conduit and grabbed a thick metal sphere. He gave the sphere a hard twist, grunting with the strain, dislodging a piece of optical cable. Another series of curses were thrown at the panel as he refitted the display module and replaced the cable. From behind the cloud of smoke surrounding his head, Booth appeared a demonic sight. As the man sat back, he looked back up at his captain with a wide grin.

  “See?” Booth said. “Nothin’ to it. Give me another few hours and I’ll have the whole thing put back together for ya.”

  “Thank you, Commander, but I still don’t understand the hammer.”

  “Oh, that. The new bulkheads are exactly two pico-meters thicker than the previous ones, but they fabricated the panels to the original specs,” Booth explained, watching the green dot return flashing temperature readouts. “The tolerances weren’t that critical except for these buggers here. All of these panels are too tight in their seat. That’s why I need the hammer.”

  Lee watched as the man pressed the panel back in. He held a hand steady to the metal as he retrieved the hammer. It took several more loud hits with the hammer to send the panel back into place. Roy took the cigar from his mouth and levered himself from the ground, grunting loudly as his bulk moved upwards. He hefted the hammer onto his shoulder, dropping it into a small hook on his uniform shoulder, and moved a few meters back down the wall. Lee shook his head and turned to resume his walk.

  “Captain Pearce to the briefing room,” a voice sounded along the hall. “Resolute command staff report to the briefing room.”

  Lee stopped in mid-stride and listened as the voice repeated the command. It was clearly not one of his communications crew. The pleasant alto reminded him again of an earlier time in his career and confused his sense of time again. He turned to Booth, who was swearing as he put the hammer back into his tool belt. The engineer joined the captain as they headed back towards the bow of the ship and the newly refurbished tactical briefing room. Thankfully, Booth dropped the cigar into a waste chute just before they entered the lift, but the cloying scent of burning tobacco hung heavily on the man.

  “I thought I asked you not to smoke those things on board ship,” Lee said as they rode. “It stinks the place up and is bad for the scrubbers.”

  “Aye,” Booth replied. “You did.”

  That seemed to end the matter, as the lift stopped and they exited. Lee noted the antiseptic smell of the new bridge level as they strode down the corridor. Even the paint was new. It was still the solid grey of a battleship but the color seemed brighter. In his mind he knew it wasn’t the paint, it was the bulkhead which was brighter. Resolute’s old walls had been covered in layers of paint and shielding. The new bulkheads were made of a different composite and were thinner but stronger than the old. They also lacked the depth of ancient paint he had grown accustomed to. As they turned the final corner to approach the briefing room, Lee noticed Alice standing by the door. She looked up to see him and smiled. While he was surveying his ship, she had been moving their things into the new captain’s quarters. They were larger but not for their sake. The new design eliminated some areas of the ship and made all of the quarters slightly larger. In their case, it would mark their first home together as man and wife. He saw the ring on her left hand as she reached out for him. The twisted braids of metal wound around her finger delicately, reminding him of the promises they had made to each other. As they gave each other a quick embrace, Lee noticed the ship’s tactical officer just beyond his fiancée. The Octopod was waving a tentacle in his direction.

  “What are we waiting for?” Lee asked Alice. “I thought we were going right in.”

  “I think he likes making us wait,” Alice replied. “It makes him feel powerful.”

  A movement from behind them turned their attention to the ship’s new first officer approaching from the corridor. Of all the things Lee needed to get used to, this was going to be the hardest. Farthing had been promoted to his own captaincy. The new first officer wore only the navy blue sash of a duty uniform wrapped around his shiny, armored chest. The Ch’Tauk officer may have been assigned to him by the Alliance high command, but he didn’t have to like it. The creature swiveled his compound eyes as he approached, his claws clicking together in an expression Lee had learned was nervousness. The only saving grace to the officer was the pheromones. In this instance, they overpowered the scent of Booth’s cigars and smiled faintly of peat and earth.

  “Commander,” Lee said. “Any idea what this is about?”

  The Ch’Tauk vocoder took a few seconds to decode the response. Not as sophisticated as the one worn by the tactical officer, the vocoder listened to the clicks and chirps of the Ch’Tauk language and tried to find a suitable translation. Another portion of the device absorbed scent molecules and added the scent to the words. It made for frustrating communication and a feeling of always talking to the box rather than the officer. Lee could feel Alice’s hand tighten in his. She made no attempt to hide her disgust of the new first officer. When Lee had brought up the situation with command, they had simply told him to get used to it.

  “Negative, Lo’Pearce,” replied the Ch’Tauk, lapsing into the old rank structure of the Ch’Tauk Empire. “I am as unclear as you.”

  The door opened at that moment and a familiar smiling face appeared. It had been years since Lee had seen Kama Yu. Her almond eyes and wide smile were a welcome sight, but also brought back the strange disoriented time sense he had felt before. The woman had a streak of white hair running down the center of her head now, though her clear, perfect skin was still as lovely as ever.

  “Kama!” Alice exclaimed, throwing an arm around her. “We invited you to the wedding. It’s so nice to see you again.”

  The Asian woman traded a polite embrace with Alice before moving aside. Beyond, Lee could see the newly refurbished conference room. Instead of the large planning table, the room now had a small stage and rows of seats. The projector could replace images on any wall, making the room an ideal tactical briefing center. Near the front of the room, a Ch’Tauk commander was sitting side by side with the last man Lee wanted on his ship.

  “The admiral will see you now, Captain,” Kama said, dipping her head slightly as the captain stepped past.

  Alice followed closely behind Lee, chagrined at the cold reception from Kama. They had spent years together on the Terran Princess before the Gizzeen war and had always shared a kind of inside take on events. This time, Alice noted the stiffness of Kama’s responses and her straight-backed posture. The war had changed far more than the color of her hair, it seemed. After Alice, Roy Booth and the Octopod entered. The Ch’Tauk commander—his given name was Na’Tora—waited until Kama had re-entered the room before following. Alice quickened her step to catch up to her husband. She wanted to be as far away from the alien as possible, but as she approached the admiral, she noticed his seating companion.

  “Lee,” Chang said, rising and placing a thin sheet on the chair behind him. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “Thank you,” Lee s
aid coolly. “I was on board anyway, checking systems. What can we do for you, Admiral?”

  “First,” Chang said, indicating his companion. “Let me introduce Ki’Bonali. He’s the coordinating officer for this sector. I believe his rank is Primero in the Ch’Tauk Imperial Fleet.”

  The Ch’Tauk officer stood and Lee was immediately put on the defensive. The creature’s black armor was heavily scarred from past battle. He was at least half a meter taller than Lee and dwarfed anyone else in the room. As he extended his claws to Lee, the man’s first instincts were to draw a weapon. Instead, he kept his hands clasped behind his back. He felt Alice’s hand squeeze his upper arm for a moment, steadying him. Chang’s face pinched at the reaction to his colleague, but the alien seemed to shrug the motion off.

  “Captain Pearce, it is an honor to meet you,” Ki’Bonali said. “You are a hero to my people for your victory over the villain Banu Rao.”

  “It wasn’t my victory, Primero Ki’Bonali. I lost many good people in that fight, including my chief of security, who was the real hero.”

  “Nonetheless,” replied the Ch’Tauk, “we are grateful for your presence and intervention in stopping the event. You served the needs of our Emperor and Regent and you have our gratitude. Please, you may dispense with the rank and call me Ki’Bonali. I see you have been assigned one of our Tercero for your ship. How is the young one accomplishing his duties?”

  “I am honored with your attention, Primero,” Na’Tora replied, bowing on one knee slightly. “This ship is not as advanced as one of our vessels, but I am learning much which will—”