by Ken Lozito
::CAUTION: Foreign contaminant present.::
Connor eased his hand off the trigger and lowered his rifle. “Damn it, Wil.”
Reisman winced in pain. “I know. I know. I really stepped in it this time—” He cut off, crying out in pain. “I can feel it crawling along inside me.”
Connor took a step forward. He wanted to crack open the combat suit and pull his friend out.
“You have to leave me behind,” Reisman said.
Sorrow closed Connor’s throat and he gritted his teeth. The sounds of the Vemus forces were becoming louder. The CDF soldiers called out.
“Sir,” Sean said.
Connor knew what he was going to say, and he hated him for it. Sean called out to him again.
“Take them back to the ship,” Connor said, scowling.
“Not without you, sir,” Sean replied.
“That’s an order, Captain,” Connor said.
“With all due respect, sir, if I have to knock you out and order my men to drag you, I will do it,” Sean replied stubbornly.
Reisman laughed. It sounded harsh and laden with pain, and it tapered off into a fit of coughing. “You trained him too well.”
Connor looked at Sean. “Order them to fall back. I’m right behind you.”
Sean narrowed his gaze and then turned around and began ordering them to fall back to the ship.
“You have to do something for me,” Reisman said.
Connor looked back at his friend. His face had become pasty white. The AR-71 Connor carried suddenly felt heavy in his arms.
“I’m still in their systems. There’s a signal the Vemus use. I’m still tracing it,” Reisman said.
“Never mind that,” Connor said.
“It’s important. I’ve linked our suits so the data that comes to mine will flow freely to yours. You have to get off this ship and ensure that I’m not dying for nothing. You hear me?” Reisman said.
Connor glanced at the CDF soldiers in the corridor. They were focused. They’d hold the area as long as they could, but it wouldn’t be enough.
“Hey!” Reisman called out to him.
Connor looked back at him. “I can’t leave like this. First Kasey and now you, Wil. I won’t do it.”
Reisman’s eyes softened. “Yes, you will. These people don’t stand a chance without you. It’s our time, not yours. Save as many as you can.”
An alarm appeared on Connor’s heads-up display and he looked at Reisman.
“I’ll hold out as long as I can. Remember that case of scotch we liberated from that senator’s office? What was his name?” Reisman asked.
Connor frowned. “It was bourbon.”
“You’re going to argue with me now? You . . . What was his name?”
Connor’s brows pulled together. “Senator Wellington.”
A countdown appeared on Connor’s HUD.
“You need to run. In a hundred and twenty seconds I’m going to blow this area to kingdom come,” Reisman said.
Connor knew he was right. Wil had engaged the self-destruct protocol of his combat suite. It would easily take out this entire room.
“Run!” Reisman said.
Connor clenched his teeth and took one last look at his friend. Wil gave him a firm nod. Connor turned around and called for the CDF soldiers to retreat.
They ran down the corridor, away from the approaching Vemus forces. Connor glanced at the data connection to Reisman on his heads-up display. As long as it was active, his friend was still alive. As Connor ran he felt a weariness take him, making his feet feel weighed down. Part of him just wanted to stop. Stop fighting. Stop trying. A primal part of him seemed to take control and he wanted to strike out at his enemies, make one last stand right here in the corridor, but he knew it was foolish. He’d be struck down and then it would fall to someone else to lead the Colonial Defense Force against the Vemus.
Blue bolts struck the wall near him, and Connor scrambled out of the way. The Vemus had caught up with them. Connor spun around and returned fire, as did several of the CDF soldiers near him. A loud pop sounded and the corridor that had been filled with Vemus became engulfed in flames. The data connection to Reisman’s combat suit severed and Connor knew his friend was dead.
Connor cried out a rage-filled scream. Sean grabbed him and pulled him around while urging the others to run. They made it back to the Banshee, and a comlink opened to him from Major Hayes.
“We’re the last ones aboard. Do you have the detonation signal from Captain Lee?” Connor asked.
“We have it but have been unable to reach Captain Lee for some time now, sir,” Major Hayes said.
They ran through the CDF destroyer. Emergency lighting was still on. Connor could still hear the Vemus following behind them. Some of them must have survived the blast or had been out of proximity.
There was a cluster of soldiers waiting to get through the emergency docking tube to the Vigilant. There was nothing they could do but wait for everyone else to get aboard.
“Major, once we’re all aboard, we need to get out of here quickly,” Connor said.
“Understood, General. We’ll be ready,” Major Hayes said.
Connor kept his weapon pointed back the way they’d come. The Vemus were likely on the Banshee by now. Sean didn’t say anything as he came to stand by Connor’s side and readied his own weapon.
They heard the Vemus, faint at first but quickly becoming louder.
“Here they come,” Connor said grimly.
He and Sean drew steadily backward, closer to the emergency dock. Connor kept his gaze fixed on the darkened corridor, waiting, anticipating the enemy’s approach.
“I have an idea,” Sean said.
Connor kept his attention on the end of the narrow ship corridor. “What?”
The emergency lighting cut out, plunging the already dimly lit corridor into darkness. The heads-up display in his helmet had already compensated for the lack of lighting.
“I don’t think they’re afraid of the dark,” Connor said.
“No, but if they can see in the dark, they can be blinded by the light,” Sean said.
Connor gave a mental nod to Sean. The young man was a fighter. He’d fight with everything he had.
Several Vemus soldiers came into the corridor and Connor and Sean engaged their helmets’ lights. Bright searchlights cut a swath through the darkness, blinding the Vemus soldiers. Then they opened fire on them, catching the Vemus completely by surprise, and their bodies started littering the corridor. Connor had no idea whether they’d done enough damage to put them down permanently or not.
Major Cross called out to them, and Connor and Sean beat a hasty retreat to the emergency docking tube. They went inside and Connor closed the airlock doors. As they headed toward the Vigilant, Connor saw several white energy bolts hit the door. They had to move. The docking tube was pressurized, and if the Vemus weapons pierced the walls, they’d be sucked out into space.
“Go. Go!” Connor shouted.
First Major Cross made it onto the Vigilant and then Sean. Connor grabbed the handle and pulled himself over the threshold. He turned around and saw Vemus soldiers stepping into the tube. Connor pushed the doors closed and disengaged the tube.
“Get us out of here!” Connor shouted.
The Vigilant engaged its maneuvering thrusters and lurched away from the ship. Connor watched through the airlock windows as the Vemus soldiers were sucked into the vacuum of space. Their dark bodies still moved, even in the frigid temperatures.
The Vigilant moved away from the former battleship cruiser Indianapolis. Connor seized the detonation signal with his implants and sent it to the waiting nukes aboard the ship.
Nothing happened.
Connor tried again but the ship was still there. He slammed his fist against the wall, then opened a comlink to the bridge.
“Major, send the detonation signal,” Connor said.
“Sir, we’ve tried . . .” Major Hayes replied.
“They’re blocking the signal. We can’t get through the interference,” Sean said.
Connor clenched his teeth and then a message appeared on his internal heads-up display.
::Vemus signal analysis complete.::
Connor frowned. This signal was the one Wil had found. The price he’d paid had better be worth it.
Major Hayes had sectioned off the ship so they could follow decontamination protocols. Connor made his way through the waiting line of CDF soldiers, who stepped aside so he could pass. His Nexstar combat suit would need to be checked for breaches and decontaminated. Then Connor would need to be checked. The surviving members of the Banshee crew without combat suits were cordoned off to isolation and observation since they posed the greatest risk, having been directly exposed to the Vemus ship.
“General,” Major Cross called out behind him.
“Yes,” Connor said.
“If it’s alright with you, sir, I need to see to my people,” Major Cross said.
“Of course,” Connor replied. “And Savannah, you did everything you could for them. The fact that you’re still here is a testament to what kind of commanding officer you are.”
Major Cross’s eyes became hard. “The only reason we’re still alive is because you and your team came looking for us. The combat shuttles were our last-ditch effort. We even brought improvised nukes of our own, adapted from a HADES IV warhead. The soldiers carrying them were among the first to die.”
“Major,” Connor said sternly, “you kept your people alive. Making a run to the hangar was a good decision. I would have done the same thing if I’d been in your shoes. Remember that.”
Savannah Cross lifted her steady gaze up toward his. “Yes, sir.”
She turned around and headed toward her crew. Though she was wearing combat armor, Connor doubted she’d leave her crew to their fate. She’d wait until they were all cleared through decontamination protocols.
An image of Wil Reisman trapped in a Vemus exoskeleton came to mind and he felt an ache in his chest. First Kasey and now Wil. How many more of them were going to have to die? A flash of Lenora Bishop’s blue eyes blazed through his thoughts. The last time they’d spoken she’d been furious with him. He wished he could change that. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice, even if she just yelled at him. He glanced around at all the soldiers waiting to be processed through decontamination, but all he saw were the missing faces. So few of them had made it back. There were hardly any wounded. The Vemus had tried to take them alive until they’d realized they fought CDF soldiers in combat armor. Then their tactics had changed, becoming deadlier.
“Sir, they need you on the bridge,” Sean said.
Connor glanced over at the young captain. He’d done a job that far exceeded what was required of his rank. Connor would need to rectify that.
“We’re not done yet,” Connor said.
“No, we’re not, sir. Not until all the Vemus have been stopped,” Sean replied.
As they headed toward the front of the decontamination processing area, Connor looked at the CDF men and women who’d gone into the belly of the beast and survived to tell the tale. There was no loathing or betrayal in their gazes, which was what Connor felt he deserved despite all they’d learned about the enemy. The fact that so many had died weighed heavily on him, the responsibility resting firmly on his shoulders. Going onto that ship had been the right call, but it was one he’d have to learn to live with. How long would it be before he could stop seeing one of his closest friends give his all so they had a fighting chance? Wil, Kasey, and so many other CDF soldiers had died to protect the colony. Connor promised himself that their sacrifices wouldn’t be for nothing. He’d keep going. He’d keep fighting because that was who he was. Quitting wasn’t something he’d ever thought about in his entire military career. There had always been the mission. He was weary, but he needed to be strong for his fallen comrades, to fight so the colony on New Earth could survive. They were all that was left of humanity. A few hundred thousand souls were a mere flicker in comparison to the billions of people they’d left behind on Earth and the colonies throughout the solar system. Those billions must be dead, fallen to an enemy they were still trying to understand. Their recent skirmish was just a taste of what they’d face if the remains of the Vemus fleet reached New Earth, and Connor would do everything in his power to prevent that. No matter the cost, it was his duty. For a brief moment, he saw Lenora’s beautiful face in his mind. He made another promise to himself knowing the odds were stacked against his keeping such a promise, but he had to make it.
Connor marched forward with determination. This battle was far from over.
26
The holoscreen in front of him blurred, and Noah rubbed his eyes.
Stay focused and get it done.
Noah kept Connor’s last words at the forefront of his mind when he noticed the slightest bit of tiredness threatening to distract him. He felt like his face had formed a permanent scowl from concentrating so hard. He glanced over at Kara. They sat together on the bridge of the Chmiel and had taken over the auxiliary workstation.
“Thirtieth time’s the charm?” Noah asked and sighed.
“It only has to work once,” Kara reminded him.
“Who knew reprogramming the targeting computer on the defense platforms would be so darn difficult,” Noah said.
If there was a finickier computer system, Noah hadn’t encountered it. He guessed this was the price he had to pay for precision, trying only to hit enemy targets instead of every ship in the vicinity. When they’d first tried to apply the update to the targeting systems of the defense platforms, they failed so spectacularly that the system became unresponsive. The frozen targeting systems had nearly given him a panic attack until the system fail-safes automatically rolled back the update. The update had been intended to enable the targeting computer to alternate between scanning for active ship signatures and ship wakes from fusion-powered engines. Noah had become much more cautious since then because he didn’t want to single-handedly leave the colony defenseless. If he didn’t get the defense platforms fixed, they would be nothing but useless piles of junk that would let the Vemus just waltz right into the inner system of planets unchallenged.
Noah glared at the screen. The uncooperative nature of the defense platform systems still made them piles of junk, in his opinion, but he was trying to squeeze every ounce of usefulness out of them he could while he still had the chance. The navigation system of the missile-defense platforms was much more reliable. Since his initial update to the targeting systems had failed, he’d had to move all the defense platforms farther into the system. This gave him time to come up with a fix and hopefully keep the platforms they’d already passed in range for when the update eventually worked. If it didn’t, they were in serious trouble.
There were downsides to moving the missile-defense platforms, the primary one being that the maneuvering engines of each platform were limited, and they had to be sure there was enough fuel in reserve to allow them to stop. Even with those considerations, the platforms weren’t meant for extensive space travel, so they moved frustratingly slowly.
Another downside was the fact that Noah wasn’t authorized to move the defense platforms. He authenticated to the defense platforms’ flight systems by using Connor’s identification. He didn’t have time to explain the situation to the people at COMCENT, who were still unable to reach the Vigilant, and then wait for their reply. Noah pressed his lips together. He didn’t think Connor would mind, and he hoped the CDF general wasn’t incorporating the missile-defense platforms into whatever he was doing. Noah’s stomach twisted in knots and he glanced at the comms workstation. They’d sent several messages to New Earth, apprising COMCENT of the situation, but hadn’t heard back from them yet. He had to tell them something; otherwise, COMCENT could override his orders to move the defense platforms.
“What are you waiting for?” Kara asked.
“I’m just trying to think if the
re’s anything we haven’t thought about yet. The targeting system really doesn’t like the updates to PRADIS. Its entire design is predicated on the fact that it can precisely identify a target before it engages. We’re essentially telling the computer, ‘Nah, that’s okay, don’t worry about it. A vague impression of engine thrust is as good as a precise location. Fire your weapons,’” Noah said.
They’d fallen into hundreds of pitfalls due to the security protocols designed into the targeting system that was doing its utmost to prevent what they’d been trying to do. If something went wrong, the useless piles of junk could determine that the Chmiel was the enemy and needed to be destroyed.
“We went over it with a fine-toothed comb. Everything is going to be fine,” Kara said.
Noah frowned. “A fine-toothed what?”
Kara smiled. “It’s an old saying.”
Noah snorted. Kara’s family had originally lived in what had been known as the mid-western United States before the country was dissolved when the North American Union was formed. Kara had explained that the area was still known as the Midwest, and Noah had come to learn that there was no shortage of sayings from that part of the world.
“You betcha,” Noah said in an attempt to allay his angst by using the only Midwest saying he could remember. He reached his hand out to launch the updated version thirty-point-one and stopped. “If this works, will you promise to make those fried ravioli things you talked about?”
Kara speared her gaze at him. “Stop stalling and send it out already,” she said.
Noah pressed the digitized button and the update started to upload to the defense platforms. He watched the screen intently, willing it to finally work.
Kara leaned over and placed her hand on his arm, giving him a slight squeeze.
“Captain Benson, I have a comlink from General Mallory,” the comms officer said.
Captain Benson glanced over at Noah. “Put him through.”