Annihilation (Star Force Series) (44 page)

Sandra’s coffin still had a long way to go. The nanites that were programmed to very gently propel it toward the launching tube weren’t speeding up on my account. Not wanting to make everyone stand around uncomfortably for several more minutes, I decided to force myself to speak further.

“Typically,” I began, saying the first words that came into my mind, “our Star Force members die their final deaths while fighting an alien machine. In this case, however, Sandra’s death was not due to a clean wound delivered by an enemy on the field of honor. Instead, she was taken from us by the assassin’s knife. A shot in the dark. Treachery.”

Up until this moment, everyone had been gazing at the coffin. They hadn’t been really listening to me, but were rather lost in their own thoughts. But I could tell that had changed. Heads swiveled to observe me.

I kept my eyes on Sandra’s face. I could still see her through a small, triangular window in the medical unit.

“I pulled the plug on her only minutes before this ceremony. The simple act of disconnecting her life-support was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I felt I had to, as she has been taken from us, even if this vessel she’s lived in so long still looks perfect to the eye. With help, perhaps I could keep it breathing and pumping blood forever. But I’m not going to do that.”

I turned toward Marvin, who looked dejected. His cameras drooped and his tentacles were still.

“And I’m not going to clone a new Sandra, or a new Sandra-brain, either.”

Only a single camera met my gaze. I turned back to the audience, who were looking at me with wide eyes now. They hadn’t heard about Marvin’s strange plans, apparently.

“For disconnecting you,” I said to the coffin, “I apologize, beloved.” She was passing me now, and the nearness of her form gave me an urge to save her, to push her from the tracks that bore her with relentless slowness toward the launch tubes. I stood firm, however, reminding myself she was well and truly dead.

“The third time was the charm, my love,” I said to her. “Perhaps your soul has been wanting to go all along. Maybe your time really came back when Alamo dropped you into the cold, cold ocean. Or when we found you in a coma in space. I’ve brought you back to life several times, but no more. You must find your own way—”

“Sir? Colonel Riggs, sir?”

My earpiece was buzzing. I recognized the voice: it was Captain Sarin. I decided to try to ignore her. The coffin was only about a minute from the launch tubes.

I paused and cleared my throat. “You must find your own way back to the stars from which we all came. Stardust to life, then back again. It is the cycle of the universe, the—”

“Colonel Riggs, I’m sorry,” Jasmine hissed into my earpiece. “There’s no need to respond. I must report, however, that the Macros have fired a huge barrage of missiles.”

I reached my hand up to my earpiece, and my face changed to a frown of concern. Everyone stared at me. I knew they suspected I was losing it. I straightened up and tried to pull together my thoughts. The damned machines wouldn’t even let me bury my girlfriend in peace.

“Sandra,” I said, “we’re sending you back to the fires of this alien sun. The white star known as Thor will be your new home until such a time as your mass is transferred into space, and hopefully it will someday comprise a new living being. It is the immortality we know we all have: the immortality of the matter that forms our bodies. In the meantime, may God keep you.”

Someone began crying behind me. I thought it was Ensign Kestrel, but didn’t look back to find out. I watched the coffin enter the launch tube. There was a click, and a hiss. The tube was building pressure.

My final comment to her was made in a harsh whisper as the external door melted open and the light on the unit went from green to red.

“I’m going to find the man who ordered this, love,” I whispered, “and I’m going to kill him. I promise you that.”

I felt a darkness come over my heart and mind after the tube rumbled and released. With fantastic speed, the coffin shot sunward. I watched through the portal for a second or two, until she was lost from sight. I knew that Sandra herself could have probably tracked the projectile for a full minute, but my enhanced eyes had never been as good as hers.

A hand touched my shoulder. It was a soft touch. I turned and faced Dr. Kate Swanson.

“I’m so sorry, Kyle,” she said.

Then she hugged me. The move caught me by surprise. I looked around, and saw several of the females were crying. A few of the males looked misty-eyed as well. Maybe my eulogy, as lame as I thought it was, had gotten through to them.

Kwon was stepping from foot-to-foot, not knowing what to do with himself. He was no good to anyone in a situation that didn’t require shouting and shooting.

“That was a tough break, sir,” he said, talking over Dr. Swanson’s shoulder.

She was still clinging to me and squeezing me with grief. I didn’t feel sadness—not exactly. I was pissed off and in some kind of shock. But mostly, pissed off.

I patted Dr. Swanson with an overly-cautious hand. I didn’t want to damage the woman. She was being very supportive.

Then she surprised me again. She stood on her tiptoes and put her mouth up to my ear—the right one, which had no earpiece sticking out of it.

“If you want to feel better, come to my cabin,” she whispered.

I pulled away slightly, and gave her a look of surprise and confusion. She must have read this as rejection—which I guess it was. She looked flustered and took her arms off me.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Colonel,” she said, and moved away.

A dozen others who’d been waiting around for the woman to let go of me now surged forward. Unlike Kwon, they’d been waiting politely. Before they could tell me how sorry they all were, my earpiece crackled again.

“I’m so sorry, Kyle,” Jasmine said. “But the situation is urgent. I know the funeral is breaking up. Did you get my last transmission?”

“Yes, I did Jasmine,” I said. “Thanks for your condolences. How many missiles and where are they headed?”

“We’ve been calculating with optics, sir. At first we assumed the barrage was targeting us, but the band of space that could be targeted is narrowing every minute. This fleet no longer intersects with the projected path of the missiles.”

I frowned. “What does lie in their path?”

“Thor-6 sir. The Crustacean homeworlds.”

I froze with my hand pressed to my ear. I felt a chill.

“I’m on my way.”

I pushed through the crowd and headed for the passageway. “I want everyone back to battle stations—now.”

The murmuring crowd stopped murmuring and rushed for the exits after less than a second of hesitation. The passageway was empty when I reached it, but behind me came a crowd of crewmen.

When I reached the bridge, Jasmine surprised me with the hug. I returned her embrace with a tiny squeeze. It felt good to press her flesh against mine. Not just because I found her attractive, but because she was a real friend who’d shared a lot of pain with me over the years. When I released her, she coughed.

“Sorry,” I said.

“It’s all right. Take a look at the situation. I’m projecting two hours out.”

I looked, and I didn’t like what I saw. The missiles were going to crash into the Crustacean home moons hours before we could get there.

“Have you warned them?” I asked.

“Yes. I don’t know what they can really do, however. Underwater strikes aren’t like atmospheric bursts. The pressure wave will kill them. They don’t have bomb shelters, and I don’t think it would help if they did.”

“Tell them to disperse,” I said. “It’s their only defense. They don’t want to crouch in the sea, massed up at any one spot. If they just swim away from one another, spreading out over the seabed at different depths and latitudes, more will survive.”

“Maybe,” she said.

I looked at her sharply. “What do you mean, ‘maybe’?”

She rubbed her face. “I’ve done some math. There are too many bombs. The radiation will spread everywhere within days. The tides of the singular sea will carry radioactive seawater all the way to both poles.”

“Maybe they can stop a few of the missiles. Transmit our methods of killing missiles with concussion in mid-course. We know they have their own missiles, maybe they can stop the barrage.”

“Already done, sir.”

“Good. I’m sure the Crustaceans will do what they can to save themselves. The question is, what else can we do? Have you come up with any options?”

Jasmine looked at me. “Not much. But we do have six transports full of marines—a fair number of them are Centaur marines.”

I looked at her sharply, and our eyes met. I shook my head. “You want me to ask the Centaurs to fly into the teeth of the enemy again? To sacrifice themselves on their tiny flying sleds?”

In an act of questionable ethics, I’d once sent the Centaurs charging into enemy ships and exploding themselves. That tactic had badly damaged the Imperial fleet when it had finally broken through into the Eden System. We’d used the tactic on the Macros too, upon occasion.

“It’s a matter of numbers,” Jasmine said. “There are billions upon billions of Crustaceans out there, defenseless. A few thousand Centaurs could do a lot of damage. We’d save a large net number of lives.”

“Would you listen to yourself? ‘A large net number of lives?’ I’m not an accountant, Captain Sarin.”

“You’ve told me yourself that this is a war to the death—to extinction. We want the living beings to win it, don’t we?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “All right, I’ll look at the numbers.”

We examined them, and determined the move would be unfeasible. Launched on their flying one-man sleds, the Centaurs wouldn’t have enough acceleration to get to the enemy missiles before they reached Thor-6. Almost as important, by the time they’d gone so far ahead of our fleet, they would be moving very fast. It was unlikely they could target and intercept the missiles and explode themselves at the precisely right moment.

“It was too much to ask, anyway,” I said. “I have another idea.”

Jasmine cocked her head to one side. I could tell she didn’t really believe there were any other viable options. This was proof to me that even my best officers liked to stay inside the box with their solutions.

“We could send our fighters,” I said.

She frowned for a moment, unsure what I was suggesting, then her eyes widened.

“Oh no, sir.”

I nodded my head, becoming more certain by the second that my idea was the right move. “We can send the fighters in now. They have plenty of range and a much greater rate of acceleration than this slow-moving fleet. If we launch quickly enough, they might even be able to shoot down some of the missiles that are going to rain down on the Crustaceans.”

She shook her head rapidly, making her non-regulation length black hair fly. “You can’t do that. They’ll be wiped out without Fleet support. Worse, you’ll be leaving the main fleet undefended. Never split your forces in the face of the enemy. Isn’t that what you’re always telling your officers?”

“Yeah,” I said. “But this is about more than winning a battle as cleanly as possible. This is about preventing an extinction event. The Crustaceans are an allied species, whether they want to admit it or not. And don’t forget, I talked them into giving the Macros a good look at their middle claw, which is why they’re being targeted now.”

She crossed her arms and took a step back from the table.

“What are you orders, Colonel?” she asked.

“Have both carriers launch two of their fighter squadrons. Each ship will hold the other half of their wing in reserve.”

The crew complements on our carriers were smaller than earthly carriers.
Gatre
only had a crew of about two hundred service people, plus the pilots and a platoon of shipboard marines. I’d kept the command structure streamlined as well, and we didn’t have a CAG officer. We did have a Tactical Operations officer, and a Gunnery officer for ship defense. But Captain Sarin was in direct and overall command of everything that happened on her ship, including the actions of her fighters.

Jasmine relayed my launch order to Miklos, who commanded the second carrier. I could tell her conversation with Miklos was heated, but after a few terse comments, he apparently accepted it. Then she spoke to Tactical Operations, who gave orders to the crews in
Gatre’s
launch bays.

Klaxons sounded all over the ship. Soon, the deck began to shiver under our boots as the fighters were shot from the four long tubes once every fifteen seconds or so. It looked and felt a lot like launching a barrage of missiles.

I wondered if Commander Decker was among the pilots, and if she would survive the day. I didn’t bother to check the rosters. That sort of decision was up to the carrier captain and I didn’t want to interfere.

I took a break once the fighters were away. I headed to my cabin and washed my face, which felt sticky from stress and sweat. Then I went to the wardroom and was served coffee that looked like a mug of crude oil.

The voyage had been a long one. The coming battle would be difficult, but we had long ago formulated our plan of attack. I had a little time to think.