* * *
Section Leader Plarin Tlenth sent four commandos up the passageway while the engineers took out the airtight blocking their advance.
She was on her stomach before she recognized the sound that had sent her there. Weapons fire. Waving another Hand forward she began crawling along the passageway, to the corner. A Tlartox commando lay in a heap and she reached out and pulled her out of the line of fire. Dead.
More fire. She took out her pocket periscope and looked round the corner. At the end of the hall two more Tlartox were down. Where the others were, she didn’t know.
“Now!” Together three of the commandos and Tlenth dove across the corridor while the fourth lay down a covering fire. Door by door they worked their way down the corridor, once burning through a wall to come out unexpectedly from a compartment the defenders thought empty. Kareth fell to the fire and Plarin was alone. Somewhere she’d lost Tlenzer as well.
Down the hall, she heard one of her section give out a call to surrender. The defenders answered it with a shot. She closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. These were not the cowards the Fleet Admiral had sneered at so convincingly. She armed a grenade and, with a last quick look through her periscope, flung it into the defenders’ compartment.
Immediately after the sharp explosion she threw herself forward. She’d take the humans alone, face-to-face. No human—or two or three—was a match for a Commando.
* * *
“I got him!” Derall exclaimed excitedly, looking at the creature on the floor nearby. If Sergeant Brenndol hadn’t been so quick, tossing the grenade behind an equipment box, the Tlartox would have had them. Instead he was on the deck, trying to hold in his intestines with his hands, mewling softly in pain. Derall didn’t know whether or not to fire again, to make sure.
“Her,” Arrand corrected.
“What?”
“That’s a Tlartox female. Her.” Arrand took a quick look down the passageway, then shoved a heavy box across the deck to block the lower part of the doorway. He stacked another two boxes on top of the other one, leaving a small crack in the middle and at either side through which they could look and shoot.
“How can you tell?” Derall began to look sick. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not the way it was on the vid-dramas at all.
“Smaller jaw. Longer fangs. Besides, she’s a Commando. Most of them are hunters,” Arrand explained. “Hunters are female. They have a better sense of smell, faster reactions.”
“Is she, is she dying?”
The sergeant took a closer look, moving the Tlartox’s weapons farther away from her body, not that it seemed likely that she’d try for them. She was too intent on holding herself together.
“Yes, she is. You opened her up nicely, kid.”
“Should we—you know?”
“Is that what you want to do?” Arrand raised his eyebrows.
“No, but, I mean, she’s in pain.”
“Would you want them to do that for you?”
“No.”
“Then I guess we’ll operate on the same assumptions. You watch the hall. I’ll see what can be done for her.”
Plarin Tlenth felt the shock leaving her and the pain increasing. She knew they’d hit her badly. Her helmet, half off, painfully twisted and trapped one ear. She desperately wanted to take it off but dared not move her hands. If she did, her guts would come spilling out.
One of the humans looked down at her, then crouched. She gave a small hiss, but even that hurt. Slowly, she realized he was speaking, that she could understand the words. The human knew Tlarti.
“Rest easy, honored foe,” he said softly. “You fought well, but your fight is now over.” He waited until he was sure she understood. “I’m going to take off your helmet, now. Then we’ll help you prepare to meet Tlar.” He waited again. “Is this acceptable?”
Plarin gave a small nod and his hands came down to undo her chinstrap. Very gently he removed her helmet and she felt absurdly grateful to this enemy as her ear returned to its normal position. Her fur, however, was a mess. She made a small move with her right arm, but the sudden pain stopped her. She opened her eyes as the jag of pain died.
The human held something up in front of her face and she had to concentrate in order to bring it into focus. It was what the humans called a comb, she realized.
“The best I can do,” he told her. Her brush was in her pocket and even the thought of him moving her gave her pain. The actuality would be too much. She nodded again. The other one began speaking, but she didn’t understand his words. Instead of even trying to listen she closed her eyes again and began murmuring the departure ritual.
“What are you doing?” Derall asked.
“Tlartox take great stock in being properly groomed,” Arrand explained. “The head is the most important part of that and it is vital that they go to meet Tlar, their god, well groomed—if possible. So, I’m helping her out.” He carefully combed her fur, bringing order to disorder.
“How do you know all this about them?”
“An old adage says ‘know your enemy’, kid. Keep a good watch on the corridor.”
“But why are you doing it?”
“You believe in a god, kid?”
Derall hesitated, then nodded, wondering if the Adian would think less of him for believing.
“If you were dying, wouldn’t you want someone to help you meet your god as you feel most fitting?”
“Yeah,” Derall breathed out, understanding. “I guess I would. You’d better hurry, though. I think something is up.”
Arrand ran the comb gently along her ears, and then carefully set the guard hairs in place. The two humans could hear a soft purr coming from the dying Tlartox commando. Brenndol smoothed the fur under her chin then lowered his head to hers.
“You are ready to meet Tlar, honored foe. Go with all dignity and relate your life’s story.” He paused, feeling the kid tap him. “And say a word for us, for your klatch comes and we will soon join you.”
Plarin opened her eyes a last time to see the shape of his head. It was fading fast. She would, she decided, speak for the humans when she met Tlar. She took a shuddering breath.
“She’s gone.”
“They’re coming.” The kid’s voice rose shrilly.
Arrand dropped the comb on the deck beside the dead commando’s head and looked up to where the vid-cam would be, if there was one here. “Pray for us,” he said and turned to meet the fury coming down the corridor.
* * *
Group Commander Rai Tlell looked into the compartment, glaring at the sprawled bodies of the two humans and then looking to the body of Section Commander Tlenth. To her surprise, her subordinate lay properly groomed. Her glance fell to the comb that lay beside her fallen comrade’s head, then back, with a much softer expression, to the two dead humans. Perhaps they weren’t such barbarians after all.
“Let’s go. There’s nothing left here for us. We have a station to take.” She turned away, leaving the dead to the company of each other.
BREVNIZ
A shocked silence filled the Community Hall as the citizens watched one of their Marines, Arrand Brenndol, firing shot after shot down the corridor, then flying backwards as several Tlartox shots ripped into him. The young Lormarian had already died.
An almost simultaneous translation had given them insight into what Arrand had spoken to the Tlartox commando.
Sillan heard a loud sob as the silence was broken and turned his head to see tears streaming down Abgil Wondell’s face. She had often accompanied Arrand while he’d spent his shore leave. Sillan moved over to her and put his arm about her shoulders. She turned and buried her face in his chest.
“I know that not all of you are of the faiths,” the local preacher said loudly. “Our friend, Arrand Brenndol, called out to us with his last words, though, requesting our prayers. Now would be a good time.”
Mute agreement met the statement and the aud on each screen faded away. Th
e heads of every man, woman and child old enough to know what was happening, bowed together and the preacher led them in a non-denominational prayer.
Sillan raised his head and observed the citizens of his village. Rarely had he seen people looking more somber. A few, too affected to remain, filed out. The rest returned their attention to the screens. One down, he thought, and eight to go, counting the mayor’s son. Perhaps others were already dead. He turned his eyes to the screen showing Prime Alpha. He hoped he might see Bel once more. Abgil remained in his embrace and cried.
IMPLACABLE
“Captain, shields are down, engines down, weapons off line.”
“Then let’s get them fixed,” Monstin said gently.
Implacable drifted, leaving her station, heading towards Bravo. For the moment no one bothered them, as battles raged fiercely all around.
Detector Lieutenant Chorsol sent vid of Vindicateur to the main screen. Three Tlartox cruisers beset the battleship, their shots tearing into her. Nine of her sixteen great turrets looked like scrap metal. The other seven continued firing in defense of the beleaguered station, keeping the Tlartox from aiding their commandos already within.
With little else to do, Captain Monstin watched.
“Shields back on line, but minimal,” Lieutenant-Commander Frennet reported. He looked worried. Soon they would drift into Bravo’s sector and would likely, once there, come under attack again. Another attack would finish them.
One wing of Vindicateur’s hammerhead bow tore away under heavy fire. Still she remained on station.
“Torpedoes tubes reloaded, sir,” Weapons Lieutenant Relnev reported.
“Sir,” Frennet’s voice was quiet. “We can’t take her back into action. It would be suicide.”
Monstin looked at his damage control officer appraisingly, then turned his head. At that moment the Inter-ship came to life and he looked back.
“Vindicateur, this is Rear Admiral Cenet on Honor.” Cenet’s tired face came on the screen, which divided to show a young woman, her hair undone, strands plastered to her face, some with sweat, some with blood. She leaned over her console, using it for support.
“Sub-Lieutenant Tulcot, Rear Admiral. We are busy at the moment.” She turned and waved to someone off screen. “Get on it, we haven’t all day.” She turned back. “Yes, Admiral, what can we do for you?”
“Let me speak to your Captain, Sub-Lieutenant.”
Tulcot brushed hair out of her eyes. “The Captain is not available, sir.”
Cenet swallowed, but kept his temper in check. “Tell your Captain to get his ship out of there.”
Tulcot’s pale blue eyes stared at the screen. She pulled herself straighter in her chair. “Captain Ventlor is dead, sir. Commander Brender is in sick-bay, unconscious; Gunnery Lieutenant Pinectol is missing, possibly killed when we lost the auxiliary bridge; Communications Lieutenant Vinncel is in Auxiliary weapons control which is now isolated by vacuum; Engineering officers are attempting the restart of engines three through seven and reactivation of shields.” She punched a comm line open. “Make Target Bravo your priority, Lieutenant.” She turned back to the screen. “I am in command.” There was fire in her eyes. “This is the 22nd. We do not retreat. Engines three and four restarted? Good work. Navigation, plot a course to close with target Bravo. Admiral, I have no more time to talk.” The screen darkened.
“Lieutenant-Commander Frennet, you have suggested that we abandon ship. What say you now?” Every face on Implacable’s bridge turned towards the Lieutenant-Commander. He punched up his tactical display.
“Sir, at our present rate of drift we will be in the middle of Vindicateur’s battle inside four minutes.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“We are out of action, not a reasonable target when there are other vessels firing.” The Lieutenant-Commander was thinking out loud.
“Granted.”
“Chances are the Tlartox will ignore us and continue concentrating on Vindicateur.”
Monstin didn’t like where this seemed headed, but kept his mouth shut. He trusted Frennet on matters of tactics.
“Main Battery Alpha is back on line—reduced power—and we have a full complement of torpedoes. If one of those cruisers ignores us as we come close, we might be able to take her out before they can react. I suggest we kill all unnecessary systems so as to appear dead. We may surprise them.”
“An admirable plan, Lieutenant-Commander. Implement it.”
PRIME ALPHA, CONTROL CENTER
“Commander, Searcher on aud, requesting permission to come inside and dock.”
Meehknet tore his gaze from the battles raging throughout his station. “Captain Britlot?”
“Aye, Commander.”
“Your situation?”
“We’ve lost our offensive capabilities. Shields, also, are gone. Repairs may be possible if we dock.”
“We’ve been boarded, Captain. Better, perhaps, if you go planetside.”
“The equipment and dockers we need are here, sir. If we go down we’ll not be able to rejoin the battle.”
Meehknet sighed. “Very well, Searcher, we’ll open the outer doors in three minutes. Be quick.” Be very quick. They would be most vulnerable at that moment. “Tempest, this is Alpha Command.”
“Commander Meehknet, what can I do for you?” Taglini asked.
“We have Searcher coming inboard, please direct defensive fire to our vulnerable quarter, sir.”
“Will do. Have you noticed that the station is taking less and less fire? The Tlartox seem to be withdrawing slightly, or at least not pressing.”
“Yes. No doubt they are hesitant to fire on us with their own troops inside.”
Taglini’s face eased in comprehension. “I think you have it. How are things inside?”
SEARCHER
“Space door is open, sir.”
“Take us in, Lieutenant.”
Searcher moved with deliberate speed through the open space doors. Once inside, the doors immediately began to close again. Weytok reversed thrusters and came to a crawl, followed directions and docked the ship. The dock allowed air into the shielded docking tunnel and Searcher was home.
“Power down all unnecessary systems. Let’s see what we can do for repairs and rearming. Now, let’s get the wounded to sick-bay.”
“Another four 60s, if you can, sir.” Dorvon still gloried in the assist they received for the cruiser kill.
“If we can, Spacer, if we can.”
Keel Tumjut and Rawl Tetjuin appeared. “We’re ready to take Tianster out, sir.”
“Very good. There are enemy on board. Check with Control for the best route to sick-bay, then get back here quick as possible.”
Britlot massaged his shoulders. He hurt everywhere, it seemed, but the tension seemed to be concentrated there. If only he had time to rest—but he didn’t. “Lieutenant Weytok, check with Logistics. Lieutenant Krirtol, work out a priority repair list. I’ll see about getting some dockers. Look lively everyone. Sub-Lieutenant Parenner, you have the bridge.”
Britlot left the bridge, followed by his two Lieutenants. They helped debark the injured Tianster and then Krirtol returned to the ship while Weytok went in search of torpedoes.
“Commander, what do you need?” The man was an aging docker foreman. Britlot’s eyebrows quirked. He’d never before been approached in such an affable manner by dockers.
“We have no shields and our weapons are down. The hull needs a quick check, but we still have integrity.”
“I’ll have people on it in five minutes. We’ll get you back out there as soon as we possibly can.” The man turned away then turned back. “That was some flying you did, to take out that cruiser, sir.”
Britlot grinned at the man’s retreating back. First time a docker had ever called him ‘sir’. Perhaps the Adians had the right idea with passing information on to non-combatants.
CHAPTER 29
PRIME ALPHA
Major Coll Britlot co
uldn’t recall being more tired. One alarm followed another. No sooner did they stop the Tlartox in one line of advance then the commandos found a weak spot elsewhere.
“Major, they’ve broken into Docking Bay Number One!”
Britlot heaved himself to his feet and ordered his entire company back into action. How many hours had this been going on? He thought he’d had a little sleep somewhere, but definitely not enough.
“It’s a wide open area, Marines. A different kind of fighting. Remember to watch above and to your rear. This isn’t going to be fun.”
They ran down the long corridors, slid down drop poles because the lifts were not fast enough, and cursed the designers of the station even though they had not built it with this sort of action in mind.
“This way, this way!” yelled a civilian docker. “Our spacers are holding them, but not for long.”
Britlot’s breath came in harsh pants, but he sent his troops surging forward again, the civilian keeping ahead of them, leading the way. Suddenly she stopped and the Marines came to a halt as well.
“Careful when you go through this air-tight. You’ll have a long workbench just the other side, so go through low and fast. Unless they’ve gained the upper levels they won’t be able to hit you. Our people will be off to your left, maybe thirty or forty meters in. Tlartox have entered from the far right—at least that was the situation as of ten minutes ago.”
“You heard her,” Britlot ordered, “low and fast.” As Marines started filing in, Britlot turned back to the civilian. Weapons fire sounded in the distance, Marine response began and grew. “Is there another way in?”
“This is the best way. You’ll have the cover when you move forward. The other way you’d get cut to pieces. Might want to station a small squad there, though.”
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