When the Stars Fade (The Gray Wars) (100 page)

             
The sergeant shook his head
.“
Had one of those protein things before we started out.
I’
ll be fine
.”
He grabbed Timothy by the shoulder
.“
Why do
n’
t you have a look at that thing, see what you can do
?
”

             
Timothy set his gun on a nearby desk
.“
Might as well
.”
He pushed aside the two soldiers working on the transmitter and started in. Seconds later he was waist deep inside the console.

             
Gabriel pulled Zev aside into a nearby office and closed the door. Once he was sure the lock was secure he turned, his face pale and harried
.“
What are our chances, sergeant
?
”

             
Zev leaned against the wall. It was a small room, probably belonging to a few of the interns or production assistants. There were three desks total in a space barely big enough for two. Pictures hung on the wall of the various celebrity guests that had been on the air, and of course the radio personalities. Zev recognized the two goofballs from the morning talk show, but none of the others
.“
Honestly, sir? I do
n’
t like our odds. That FOB is more of a hospital than anything else. I was there a few day
s—
well,
conscious
a few day
s—
and they never even sent a scouting party out to look for survivors. I think the ground game is looking sour, and the longer w
e’
re out here the worse i
t’
s gonna get
.
”

             
“OK, then what do you suggest
?
”

             
Zev wiped his mouth
.“
We get that radio working, we send out an SOS. Ride the first bird off of this rock. Ask for a rescue boat for every place we know is still held by friendlies
.
”

             
“And then
?”
Gabriel asked.

             
“Let Fleet burn the plague off the planet. Then we come back and crush the ashes
.
”

-                           
XIII                            -

              Mara looked down at her computer, eyes red from staring into the glowing screen for so long. Sh
e’
d left the conversation with Hanweh and the other Domin shaken, more angry than grateful for her rescue. How had she once looked up to such leaders? They were as bad as the Magistrate they opposed. Well, she thought, not their equals. For all the Magistrate tried to be, honorable never factored in. At least the military men had offered their crews a chance to leave, to make their own decisions.

             
Her letter was perfect, worded to touch upon the very nature of humanity. If it got into the right hands, she had no doubt with whom the Terrans would side. But now, staring at at her writing, her resolve weakened. Was it her place to play such a pivotal role in things to come? As a historian, she had always contented herself to watch from a distance, to be someone who knew everything but did nothing. By staking a claim as the arbiter of a new alliance, she could no longer hold onto the life she had once led.

             
Growing up in a migrant fleet had taken its toll. Mara could
n’
t remember the last time she had felt important. In a culture of refugees, everyone was simply a part of the great struggle. Individuality took a second seat to survival, as those who stood out often were taken away. Her parents had worked hard to teach her how to fit in, keep a low profile. Even as illustrious a position as Historian had seemed too lofty a goal back then.

             
Her own confidence aside, she worried about failure. If the letter did not instill the correct feelings, the humans could turn to the Magistrate. Or worse, simply dismiss the Nangolani as a whole and leave them to fend for themselves. It had also crossed her mind that, once the deception was completely revealed, the humans may attack out of principle.

             
Often she thought about Ray, wondering whether or not he was even alive. He had sworn to defend her, but would he still feel the same once he learned the full truth? Would he support her and Hanweh against all of the work done by Anduin? And even if by some miracle he could forgive her people, would they even survive the plague unleashed upon them?

             
A chime sounded on the console. Her computer had finished locating a safe route to transfer the letter into Ra
y’
s account. She hesitated over the send button, her conflicted mind dancing back and forth. Sucking in a deep breath, she closed her eyes and dropped her finger onto the keyboard. A tone sounded as the signal connected and the message was sent.

-                           
XIV                            -

              “Take aim
.
”

             
One by one, the soldiers lined up the glowing red reflex sights on one of the chittering aliens. Their thumbs found the snap safety on the grip and applied slight pressure. The barrels of their rifles bobbed as each person tracked their target.

             
Josh rested his elbows on a small pile of debris, focusing on his breathing. It was a moment before he realized just how quiet it had become. Yesterday h
e’
d been able to link in to radio feeds from the various forces. That way he could know how everything fared on the outside. The war was going as poorly as it could, but the Terrans were
n’
t giving up yet. Metts was lost, along with Paradise Point, but New Beirut still held its own. The Army of the Valley had fallen, but a tank company remained secured in a defensive position, pricking the attackers whenever they got too close. The sudden silence seemed particularly ominous now, in this room.

             
He slowed his breath, counting each intake and exhale. It reminded him of being at the firing range with his grandfather. Elijah Rantz had been a hero during the Emigration War, decorated for valor at the Battle of Silent Crest. H
e’
d spoiled Joshua every chance he could, as all grandfathers do, and loved to take him outside the city to a small firing range he owned and operated. They spend the day drilling holes in paper targets or knocking bottles off the fence. Josh remembered how Eli would pick him up at the end of the day, carrying him back to the house, and talk about his time in the service.

             
“A battle is just like shooting at a target, Josh
,”
he had said. His mustache covered most of his mouth, and young Joshua loved to imagine that it was actually the hair talking, impersonating his grandfather
.“
If you try to win a battle, yo
u’
ll end up so concerned about the ending that you forget the middle. Try to shoot at the target, yo
u’
re liable to miss
.”
He would set Josh down at the small dining table near the entrance to the building, kneeling down to eye level to make sure the point went home
.“
Now what do we always say when w
e’
re shooting
?
”

             
“Aim small, miss small
?
”

             
“Tha
t’
s right
,”
Eli would say with a grin
.“
And in a fight, you do
n’
t set out to win. You look for the smaller victories that will add up to a win
.
”

             
It had all made sense then, and it did help teach Josh to shoot. But now, laying on the cold floor in an alien carrier in the midst of an intergalactic war, the sage advise of the elderly lost some of its charm. Where were his small targets? Sure, they could stop this carrier from firing off the Scourge, but it could
n’
t be the only one around. Would
n’
t the Boxti just retaliate with a missile like one used on Tallus?

             
As he pondered issues far above his pay grade, a small yellow light flashed in his HUD. It reported that all targets were painted and in clear sight for the shooters. He focused on the message until it sent out the preset response. Josh reacquired his target. The bug-like creature had a split second to finish whatever thought was going through its mind before the squad opened fire. Rounds ripped through thin carapaces spraying green ichor across the walls and floor. Pools of blood spilt into the bubbling pink tanks, sizzling and steaming. After dispatching the nearest group, the Archangels ran in two teams toward opposite ends of the room. The caretakers did
n’
t so much as shout in alarm. They did
n’
t run or fight back in any way. One by one, they dropped dead to the ground, twitching limbs scratching at the floor. Aside from a short chirp from a console on the wall, there had been no reaction to the ambush.

             
“Alpha up
,”
Alexa called out.

             
Josh turned to his side and looked at Dax. The big man huffed and puffed, straining to keep his HMG level.

             
“Bravo up
,”
he managed to say.

             
Josh surveyed the scene, satisfied they had properly dealt with the threat
.“
Bravo, secure an emergency exit and call the pilot. W
e’
re gonna be leaving in a hurry
.”
Alexa ran over, slinging her rifle
.“
Alexa, secure my egress route
.
”

             
“Where do you think yo
u’
re going
?”
Dax asked.

             
Josh shrugged
.“
Yo
u’
ll both need all the hands you can get.
I’
ll take the easy job and go drop our bomb off
.”
He grabbed the case and jogged toward the last set of stairs, snickering to himself.

             
“Do
n’
t drop it
,”
Dax called out.

             
Josh looked over his shoulder
.“
No promises
.
”

-                           
XV              -

              Missiles streaked across the sky, accelerating as they closed on their target. Inside the body of each tube, small quantum computers guided the warheads to a single destination with deadly precision. A lone Y fighter flitted back and forth, trying in vain to shake the incoming threat. The barbed cone-shaped head punched through metal and wiring, burying itself deep in the shi
p’
s belly. A proximity charge activated, sending an electric signal to the detonator. With a dull thump, the explosive erupted and sent shrapnel tearing through the alien craft.             

             
Racing through the smoking debris field, Cameron scanned his radar looking for his next kill. His blood pounded in his temples, while fear and excitement wrestled for control of his brain. A strafing run peppered his kinetic shields, but they held. The air was alive with flying projectiles, smoke and falling wrecks. A yellow rocket slammed into a Sparrow off Camero
n’
s port wing, and the explosion nearly flipped him sideways.

             
Bright red bolts streaked past his windshield. Cameron turned into the fire, squeezing the trigger and loosing dozens of rounds at an incoming alien superiority fighter. It was a short game of chicken that the Boxti lost pitifully. Stepping down on the afterburner, Cameron tensed up in preparation for the next attack.

             
“Torch one, this is Eagle seven. Bandits closing on your six
.
”

             
He barely had time to acknowledge the call before the missile alarm sounded, drowning out everything else. His right hand shot to the console, flicking switches and activating counter measures. He dumped chaff and flares to confuse the incoming warhea
d’
s guidance systems, and began evasive maneuvers. He jerked the stick back and forth, zigging and zagging through the sky. As he rolled to the left, he saw the glowing rocket zip past his wing with inches to spare. The projectile lost its target acquisition and detonated, sending bits of metal pinging off his Phoeni
x’
s hull.