With Our Dying Breath

by Unknown

  "'Why, what's that dear?'

  "'I just don't know, honey. But those darned Earth zombies are long gone, so it must just be a problem with the proximity sensors.'

  "'Oh, dear. You're probably righhhh-aaayyyeyettt!'"

  Oswald shook his head in macabre amusement as Mathesse mouthed the word 'BOOM' and mimicked an expanding explosion with his hands. He wondered if the little skit had been improvised or if Mathesse had been working on it in his head as he carried out the programming for the rail gun.

  "I’m sure Xorblox would approve."

  Mathesse smiled out of reflex. "Who?"

  "Never mind. But at least I will be thinking of that far future murder." Oswald frowned as the feed from both the nav-sat and the sensor drone blinked the 'no signal' warning.

  "Looks like they poked us in the eye, Colonel. We're done. Should we go now?"

  "Relor, this is Oswald. Set all remaining remotes on proximity detonation; we're fighting blind now."

  "Roger that, Colonel. Sorry."

  "Not your fault," Oswald replied firmly. "It was going to happen sooner or later. Make sure the laser array is ready if they try to drop troops."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tactical," Oswald grinned grimly. "Throw me some snow balls. As many as you can."

  "With pleasure sir!" Mathesse saluted comically. "We'll show 'em how we used to do it in Brooklyn."

  Chapter 32 Oswald watched Rocketman bury the Centauri prisoners it had killed that morning next to the ones they'd all killed during the takeover. Two men and two women chanced their fate against the Ranger robot and were gunned down with clock-work precision.

  Roland's newly dead were buried farther out next to a large stone that was one of the few notable landmarks in the desiccated African landscape. Danner's disarmed funeral rockets had been set around the rock to launch when, or if, they would have a chance to hold the ceremony. It didn't look good for that either.

  McFarran, Hines, Norris, and Trese looked uncomfortable, almost apologetic, as they held appropriated Centauri assault rifles over the prisoners. The Centauri offered up weeping prayers as the mechanical gravedigger buried their friends. Oswald was glad when Rocketman returned to watching the prisoners, unsure if his crew would be so willing to pull the trigger if needed.

  Breen and Mathesse were rigging up a warhead in the dome's jump chamber, ostensibly to prevent the Centauri from retaking Earth after the heroes stole it back from right under their collective noses. It would also keep the evil aliens from doing the same to someone else's planet in the future, as it seemed unlikely they had the ability to craft one of the alien artifacts on their own even if they did know how to use one. Oswald hated lying to Breen, mostly because it was so easy. The astrogator was a genius in his own right and listened to his flight commander with child-like trust. That made it hard too.

  It had been the bringing of the warhead that set the prisoners off. When they saw what was obviously some sort of explosive, four of them decided they were dead anyway and went after Rocketman. Oswald couldn’t blame them—his own desperation was spreading like an infection through his mind.

  Once the robot was back inside, a rifle in each of its hands, extra magazines and grenades strapped down its body, the human guards found places to mill around. Norris stood near Oswald for comfort that he couldn't give. He considered her curves with furtive glances. The temptation to ask her to join him in an abandoned room was great; making love on Earth seemed a good final act. But the thought of propositioning her made him feel awkward—he'd rather remember their encounter on Roland and leave it at that.

  Norris caught Oswald staring at her and smiled sweetly at him, making him reconsider the proposal. The radio bleated a warning message from Relor and the universe let Oswald know in no uncertain terms that it wasn't meant to be.

  "Colonel, incoming missiles!" She had keyed all crewmen and those with their tablets pulled them out, desperately trying to pull up the tactical map. Those without ran to the edge of the dome, just as desperately trying to see Roland's silhouette through the glass. Oswald did both.

  He knew the tactical map wouldn't tell him anything useful now that the orbital sensors had been destroyed. Instead he tied his tablet directly to the Roland's targeting computer. Oswald enabled the gyroscopic synchronization and swept his display around until it was pointing where his gunner's laser was pointing.

  Five speeding contrails appeared in the infra-red scope. Atmospheric traces heated by the flashes from the rocket's laser blinked in and out of existence on the screen, visible only through Roland's eyes. A distant flare in the night sky indicated one of the missiles had been hit. Oswald checked the closure rate listed on the display. He was about to order everyone into suits but this fight was going to be over in seconds. He'd waited too long, he knew that. But it was a fight Oswald thought they could win.

  The faint glow of the missiles' thrusters became visible in the distance. Oswald decided to get a more personal view of his possible impending doom and lowered his tablet. One of the Centauri noticed where Oswald was staring, pointed, and shouted to the other prisoners. Everyone except Rocketman was watching the flames race closer in the night sky.

  Another missile evaporated into a cloud of icy vapor and spinning metal, the destruction only visible in the split second the fiery explosion survived in the dark sky. Oswald was impressed, Relor was indeed a gunner's gunner. Two more speeding contrails suddenly halted, transformed in a flash to impotent fluffy clouds by Roland's laser. The final missile streaked between the quickly dissipating clouds of destruction. Sparks danced down its side for an instant and it was obscured briefly in a cloud of smoke.

  The missile emerged from the other side, tumbling and streaming fire and smoke behind. It was falling from the sky, but not fast enough. A trail of embers and sparks splashed across the top of the dome as it flew overhead.

  "No," Oswald breathed, stepping to the glass and pressing it with his hands, as if trying to push the missile away. Laser flashes winked in the cloud of smoke that trailed the missile as Relor kept firing. But it was too close and moving too fast. The tumbling, twisted warhead struck the landing pad, spewing fire and blasting up debris. Roland swayed from the blow as one of the stabilizers she rested on was shredded by shrapnel, leaving only a frame, like flesh stripped away from bone.

  When Roland leaned back upright the wounded stabilizer let out a moan as it tried to hold the rocket up. Then it failed completely in a metallic scream, echoed seconds later by the crew in the dome as they understood what now had to happen.

  Roland toppled to the ground with a resounding crash that could be heard through the dome and over the wailing of her orphans. As pipes and pumps cracked, as tanks split, gouts of flame ripped her belly open. A second later Roland and her children still on board were completely consumed in a hellish firestorm that left no survivors possible. In less than ten seconds the last war rocket of the long lost Earth Force, a twenty year veteran workhorse of Earth's final war, was no more. Oswald was too numb to join in the sobbing going on around him.

  "I just don't know how many more times I can say we're done and have it mean anything," Mathesse said soberly. "I mean, we're really done." Oswald was oddly comforted at the genuine resignation and fear in the expletives that followed from Mathesse's mouth. "I was just about to go relieve her, too. She was a shield maiden. Going out on a flaming ship seems very appropriate."

  The heat from Roland's burning husk set off the funerary rockets all at once. They rose high enough to be seen over the wall of flames just outside the dome.

  "Ask not for whom the bell tolls," Oswald said grimly. "It tolls for thee."

  "That... sucks."

  Oswald turned to Mathesse, expecting some smart comment about dead poets, but saw him looking at Hashi, who was approaching with a purposeful stride.

  "Sir, may I finally speak with you." McFarran noticed Mathesse looking at them with pointed disinterest. "Alone please, sir."

  Oswald knew
what was coming next; Hashi's final pitch. The Aux Officer had laid the groundwork and presented his ideas incrementally to his flight commander. And now was his last chance to clinch the deal. McFarran was no fool. He grounded and serious with little time for joking when there was work to do—one of the best officers Oswald ever worked with. As much as he dreaded the conversation, time had run out. A decision had to be made

  Oswald's options seemingly vanished with the destruction of Roland. His decision had been to not make a decision and it had cost them. He knew that the same would have likely happened if they tried to lift off; the Centauri commander would detect the launch and intercept them before they could reach the jump threshold. It's what he would do in that position. But there were still choices, and they all boiled down to deciding how they would lose to their enemies. Part of him hoped McFarran could explain in no uncertain terms what needed to be done, that the Aux would be able to present the only self-evident answer that was best for everyone. Oswald was ready for someone else to make the decisions. He motioned to the nearby conference room.

  "Sir, if we may go to a farther room? Perhaps upstairs?"

  Oswald scanned the dome. The crew and prisoners had picked up on the sudden urgency in McFarran's expression and demeanor. They knew Roland's death changed the games. The prisoners grew vocal with concern and Rocketman swept its rifles over the crowd. There was immediate wide-eyed silence as the bloody-fisted robot brought one leg loudly to the ground. The Earth crew also flinched at the sudden noise.

  Oswald caught the eye of the crotch grabber, who was staring victoriously at the attackers, and he wasn't alone. Others wore looks of timid hopefulness, fearful to even look the Earthmen in the eyes. He didn't blame them for wanting him and his crew dead. Some began to weep silently, expecting a reprisal from their captors or that their rescuers might be a bit too eager with the missiles.

  "Very well. Upstairs." Oswald trudged up the steps after Hashi.

  "Sir, you know what this is about. The Centauri have won. I know you have planned through several contingencies. You have always been very good at such things." Hashi was speaking with uncharacteristic rapidity, his accent thickening and his usual formality fading away behind the urgency in his voice.

  Oswald shut the door behind them and motioned for Hashi to sit across the table. "Thank you, Hashi. I try." His smile was not unfriendly.

  "Sir, I'm just going to throw it out there. We should surrender. We need to surrender. We fought them bravely, even foolishly I think. But this is our absolute last chance for this to not end in a needless blaze of glory."

  "Go on."

  "We have no spacecraft. Roland is destroyed. Our fate is now tied to this planet. To this facility." Hashi spread his arms to indicate dome.

  "Our fate has always been tied to this planet, Hashi. That's why we're here."

  "To get our planet back?" Hashi scoffed. "Please do not insult me, Colonel. There are only two places to jump. Sol, where we would find ourselves just as helpless." He now glared at Oswald. "Or into the path of their home world."

  "Yes, those have always been options," Oswald admitted slowly. "Drop a big blue marble in their way. The jump tunnel can obviously be opened in a gravity well, since it can jump a planet. But Breen and I weren't able to make heads or tails of how it works." Oswald shrugged. "So if we, if I decide on that course of action, I wouldn't want the Centauri to jump us out of the way." He tapped his temple. "Like you said, contingencies."

  Hashi considered Oswald and rocked back slightly in the alien chair that was designed with his ergonomics in mind. "You once sacrificed a team of Rangers, risked the whole mission, to prevent the possibility of, how did you say it? 'Blowing out the last candle in some interstellar lighthouse,'."

  "Something like that."

  "And here you are contemplating the destruction of a whole world in a suicide run. Five billion people from what Tok tells me. They are humans that you can look at and see," Hashi swept his arm vaguely towards where the prisoners were being held below, "and they're existence is less to you than the mere possibility of a long dead race of giant bug monsters? The aliens, correction, the possibility of aliens, needing DPV was worth sacrificing your men?"

  "Look, Hashi..."

  "Don't get me wrong, Pierce. I don't disagree with your reasoning per se. We were messing with things beyond our possible understanding. We are doing so now, too. But I don't understand why? Why certainly kill the Ay-Yon yet not risk the chance of possibly inconveniencing the aliens of DPV?"

  Oswald stood slowly and stepped around the table to the door. He pushed the door open just a crack and pointed, inviting Hashi to look. Hashi stood and peered out the crack.

  "Norris?"

  "Look farther."

  "Surely you are not pointing at Mathesse."

  "Farther."

  Hashi looked around as far as the crack would let him. Seeing nothing he looked at Oswald. "I don’t' understand, Colonel."

  "Look out the dome, Hashi. See that frozen, lifeless wasteland that used to be Africa? I know it's hard to recognize now, but this world was our home. The Centauri wiped it clean. They sterilized it, not just humanity. Every living thing.

  "They killed my family, your family, and the families of the very few Earthers still alive." Oswald forced himself to unclench his jaw. "I am the one who doesn't understand." He stepped back to where he had been sitting and fell heavily into the uncomfortable chair. "I guarantee you that if the aliens of Delta P had wiped out Earth like the Centipedes did, or were threatening to, I wouldn't hesitate to blow out all their candles."

  Hashi stepped to the table but didn't sit, staring defiantly down. "These Centauri are not the ones who destroyed Earth, Colonel. These are their children's children. You know this."

  "They didn't seem to apologetic about such a minor misunderstanding." Oswald rolled his eyes at Hashi. "Tok says he's here so they don't forget. That tells me that they have forgotten. Or that they don't give a crap. I don’t' expect sympathy from them, but I've not seen anything that leads me to let bygones be bygones. My tears are for Earth."

  "You've spoken to one Ay-Yon!" Hashi bellowed, his accent so thick that Oswald almost chuckled. "And now you will put his face on all of them as you pull the trigger?"

  "Look, Hashi. What makes you think that they will do anything besides immediately execute us?" Oswald stood up, mostly because his neck was getting sore. "Even if we'd jumped in initially with our hands up, we'd still be an enemy war-craft. Assuming they'd even believe us and not lock us up in a loony bin."

  "I don't know what they'll do. Maybe they will. But I do know what they'll do if we don't surrender." Hashi took a breath and visibly forced himself to calm down. "You are offering me the choice between possible death with a chance of living among a human people and certain death. That is all of our choice there is.

  "And even with that, I'd rather die trying to prevent a genocide than certainly die causing one."

  "And how do you know that by wiping out the Centauri we aren't preventing another genocide?" Oswald countered. "We're talking about a people who already did it once. As a matter of policy or insult, not self-defense. If there are other human cultures mysteriously spread across space, who are you to say that they won't do it again?"

  "That is ridiculous, Colonel. Such fatuous reasoning is beneath you." Hashi looked indignant.

  "So you would surrender our last chance to answer the genocide of our people for the hope of being treated like a favorite pet, a gilded curiosity, at best? Or a POW at worst?" Oswald shook his head angrily, poking his finger under Hashi's nose. "We have one bullet left. One dying breath to bring justice to our murderers. And you want to chance it for the hope of some Centauri nursing home?"

  "There is nothing wrong with not wanting to die, Pierce. I have fought by your side for years. I am not a coward. But I do not wish to throw my life away."

  "That is exactly what you're doing." Oswald slapped the table. "You're putting it into the hands of th
e very aliens that destroyed Earth. You are spitting in the faces of every one of our friends that died fighting these monsters. You are already dead, Hashi. So am I. So is everyone out there. The Centipedes killed us long ago. You just haven't realized it yet."

  "No!" Hashi slapped his chest. "I live now! I can still learn. I can still even love, maybe. You may be dead on the inside because you can't let go of Anahita—" He stammered and stopped as all emotion slid from Oswald's face. Hashi feared he'd gone too far; he had further to go yet. "But don't ask me to die to ease your pains." They stared at each other for a moment.

  "I have not decided," Oswald lied.

  "Are you going to remove the program from the planet's jump computer, Colonel?"

  "No."

  "Then with all due respect, sir, I shall." Hashi began to turn but froze when he saw the laser levelled at his chest. Oswald thumbed the safety and the protective iris at the end of the emitter slid open like the waking eye of a predator.

  "No you won't." Oswald stared at Hashi, his eyes as emotionless as the lens of the laser he held.

  "Don't you dare!" Hashi's screams were shrill and hoarse. "You cannot do this!" Oswald's eyes told the Aux what must happen next. They softened just for a moment before the trigger was pulled.

  "Je suis désolé mon ami." Oswald's apology was genuine as he stared at the dark hole in his friend's chest. The embers burning around the hole in Hashi's flight suit quickly died out, leaving a small bloody crater that stood perfectly between the tags that read Roland and McFarran.

  Hashi grabbed at his chest and fell into the chair that he defiantly refused to sit in a moment ago. Fear and pain washed across his face, his brow and cheeks dancing in a constant but slowing flux. Tears rolled down Hashi's cheeks as he looked up at his murderer. A thick dollop of dark blood spurted wetly from his ruined chest when he coughed, leaving a crimson Rorschach on his flight suit. Oswald saw a friend dying in that blot and his own tears began to flow as that friend slumped from the chair to the floor. With a final, loud aspiration escaping from his mouth and chest, Major Hashi McFarran died.