In Her Name: The Last War (57 page)

His only real concern was the ammunition stocks of the Alliance ships. They didn’t have much left, and they hadn’t been able to take the time to jump out to rearm. So, once again, the Terran ships were in the lead, with
Ticonderoga
in the center of the third wedge that was arrowing for the enemy formation’s heart.

“Nothing fancy,” he had told the flag staff officers as he had quickly sketched out the maneuvering orders after the Kreelan fleet had begun to come down from high orbit to attack. “We sail through their formation doing as much damage as we can. All ships are to fire at will as soon as the enemy’s in range. Then we’ll see where we stand.”
And how many of our ships are left
.

Turning to the vidcom, Tiernan said, “Good luck, admiral.” They didn’t expect the laser links to be stable in the upcoming storm of ships and weapons.

“You, as well, my friend,” Lefevre told him. “It has been an honor.”

“Indeed, it has, sir,” Tiernan said as the leading waves of the two fleets collided in fire and rending steel.

* * *

Thousands of kilometers away, Ichiro Sato and the surviving crew of the
McClaren
were fighting an altogether different kind of battle, although one every bit as deadly. The Kreelan warship had managed to free herself from the
McClaren’s
embrace and was still closing on the helpless shuttles that were now rising in a loose formation to loop around Keran to rendezvous with the carriers. Sato could only hope that Ruiz and his Marines would be able to stop her.

Like a returning nightmare, there were once more Kreelan warriors aboard Sato’s ship. The Marines in what was left of the forward section fought tenaciously, but in the end were simply overwhelmed by superior numbers. None of the crew had actually seen one of the enemy before, and had never really expected to up close. Fear was written on their faces as they ran in teams to defend the key passageways leading aft. They didn’t have to worry about defending the main airlocks, as those had been carried away with the forward section when it broke away from the ship. The only airlock left was the auxiliary located aft of engineering.

“How’ll they get in, sir?” one of the women in Sato’s team asked as he led them forward to defend the ship. He had left DeFusco in charge of maneuvering
McClaren
, with very simple orders: try to catch up with the Kreelan warship, and slam what was left of
McClaren
into her drives.

“I don’t know,” he told her truthfully. The Kreelan ships were nothing like the massive vessels the
Aurora
had encountered, and he had no idea what other surprises might be in store. “But they’ll find a way. Listen,” he said, turning to the dozen men and women on his team, “the enemy is tough and extremely well-trained. But they can be killed. We just have to try and-”

He was interrupted by an explosion as the hatch at the end of the passageway disintegrated into white-hot fragments that blew inward toward them. There was a sudden, brief, gust of air down the passageway, and Sato’s ears popped with the change in pressure. Two similar explosions sounded from elsewhere in the forward part of the ship.

“Get ready!” he ordered, and the men and women with him took up positions on the floor and behind the hatch coaming, trying to make themselves into the smallest possible targets as they aimed their rifles at the still-smoking hatchway.

As the smoke cleared, Sato saw a pair of Kreelans worming their way into what looked like a set of transparent membranes, clearly some sort of airlock, at the end of the passageway. 

“Hold your fire,” he said, a tingle of fear creeping down his spine. He had assumed the Kreelans would use the same advanced technology they had when they boarded the
Aurora
. But this was nothing more than a simple, if effective, set of membranes that could certainly be pierced or torn by the human weapons.

“Sir?” one of the sailors asked, his finger tensing on the trigger of his assault rifle. 

“If we fire and damage that thing they’re coming through, we’re dead,” Sato told him as he got to his feet. “None of us have vacuum suits.”

As if to punctuate his warning, they could hear the staccato firing of several assault rifles, followed by a hollow
whoomp
as a grenade went off in one of the other passageways. That was followed by the shriek of air venting into space, one of the sounds that spacefaring sailors feared as much as fire. The screams of the crewmen as they were blown out of the ship were muted by the intervening compartments, but tore through his heart nonetheless.

“Get back,” he told the others as he turned and quickly led them back down the passageway as the Kreelans stripped out of their vacuum suits. Their eyes were fixed on the humans, but otherwise they were not yet prepared to attack.
They know the score, too
, Sato thought. “Let them come,” he said. “Once they’re out of their suits, we’re on even ground.”

“If you say so, sir,” one of the enlisted men said dubiously as he followed Sato through the hatch, closing it behind him as more alien warriors made their way through the airlock.

* * *

Gunny Ruiz grimaced in pain as he blasted yet another Kreelan out of his path. He had been hit with one of the flying weapons the enemy used: one of the blades was embedded in the thick pectoral muscles of his chest. His suit was leaking air, but he figured he’d have enough to finish the job before he asphyxiated.

He was down to only four Marines in the short time they’d been inside the Kreelan ship. The enemy warriors were beyond fanatical in their defense. They were completely outclassed by the Marines in their combat armor with their recoilless rifles, and still they were murderous opponents. Even after the Marines blew a compartment open to the vacuum of space, the female warriors, without suits, attacked them with swords and claws as they were blown out into space. Two of his people had died that way, their suits slashed open as the enemy went flying past.

The Marines had blasted their way through the hatchways of the ship as they moved aft as quickly as they could, trying to reach the ship’s engine room. Ruiz had figured the bridge was probably much farther forward, and at the rate his people were being killed, they’d never make it. And they didn’t have time. He knew the ship would be in range of the fleeing shuttles any moment now.

“Down, gunny!” one of his men shouted as a warrior wearing a combat suit hurled herself at Ruiz from around the bend in a passageway. 

Ruiz dropped to the deck, but it was the wrong move: he landed right on the Kreelan weapon still embedded in his chest and drove it even deeper. He was momentarily paralyzed with agony as the Kreelan fell on top of him. 

His Marines couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting him, but he wasn’t important. “Forget about me!” he ground out through the pain as he fought to roll over so he could fight the alien. “Find the goddamn engine room! No time left!”

The four other Marines paused only for a second before following their orders, blasting their way through the passageways leading aft.

Using his massive upper body strength, Ruiz managed to push himself up off the deck, the warrior still writhing on top of him, and flip over, slamming his right elbow as hard as he could into her midsection. The warrior’s armor absorbed the blow, but it gave him what he really wanted: just a few extra centimeters of room. He rolled back in the opposite direction, careful to keep his chest and the protruding weapon clear of the deck, then leapt on top of her before she could regain her feet. He clung desperately to her armored gloves, which were made to allow her razor-sharp talons to show through the fingertips of the metal and fabric. Using his superior weight, he shoved her to the floor, howling in pain as the throwing weapon was again driven deeper into his chest, the tip burying itself in the bone of his sternum.

Ironically, the inhumanly sharp blades that were sticking out were equally effective against Kreelan armor, and he watched with satisfaction as they sliced through his opponent’s armor as well as his own. The blades didn’t penetrate deep, but far enough: he suddenly yanked himself backward, pulling the blades out of the alien’s suit.

Air rushed from her suit, crystals of water forming as the moisture in the suit’s air froze almost instantly. He pinned her to the deck until she stopped twitching.

As he struggled to get up, he found two more suited warriors waiting for him, swords drawn. 

He was just bringing up his rifle when a churning wall of fire exploded through the passageway from the aft end of the ship, testimony to the handiwork of his Marines.

* * *

“You’re clear,” the controller on the
Guadalcanal
informed the assault boat pilots. “The enemy ship that was on your tail is losing way.”

The pilots didn’t need to hear it from the carrier, as the enemy warship had gotten close enough for them to track it on the boat’s sensors. Both pilots breathed a heavy sigh of relief when they saw the ship’s icon suddenly slow down, rapidly falling behind them.

“We’re actually going to make it,” the pilot murmured, holding his hand down to his side out of sight and crossing his fingers. “Tell the
McClaren
that we’re good for the bar tab in any port,” he told the controller on the carrier. On the sensor display, he saw the icons representing the other shuttles climbing toward the still-invisible carriers. By his count, all but two had made it.

“Nice thought, but it looks like there are going to be some empty chairs around the table,” the controller told him, his voice tinged with regret. “The
McClaren
rammed the other ship, then they separated and it looks like her drives have failed. She’s not going to make it.”

Hearing the words of the controller, Steph sat bolt upright from where she had slumped down to the deck. “We have to go back,” she told the pilots. “We have to go back to the
McClaren
.”

Both pilots stared at her. “Are you crazy?” the boat’s command pilot said. “You see that?” he said, pointing to a blue icon just at the edge of the boat’s forward sensor display that had
Guadalcanal
marked under it. “That’s our carrier. They’re going to leave us behind if we aren’t aboard in about ten minutes.”

“The people on that ship saved our lives,” she argued. “We can help them. This boat has plenty of room for the survivors-”

“There’s no time!” the pilot told her. “I’m sorry,” he said, his apology utterly sincere. “I appreciate their sacrifice and what they did to save us. I really do. But it won’t help them if we mount a rescue only to have all of us get left behind.” He glanced at the other faces looking into the cockpit hatch and listening, the few surviving NCOs of the Legion and the 7th Cavalry. “
Guadalcanal
and the other carriers have direct orders from Admiral Tiernan that they are not to wait for stragglers.”

“Please,” she said, turning to Mills for support. “I know it’s a risk, but we’ve got to go back. Ichiro Sato is on that ship along with the rest of the crew. None of us would have had a chance at all in this fight if it weren’t for him.”

Sato’s name had an immediate effect on everyone who could hear Steph’s voice. He was the prophet who had brought warning of the coming invasion. As with most prophets, few had believed his prophecy, and most had scorned and ridiculed him. The haggard men and women on the assault boat, however, had become true believers after coming face to face with the Kreelan nightmare. 

“I think we’ll go back, then,” Mills said casually. “Shouldn’t leave a lad like that go to waste. What say you,
sergent chef?
” he asked the ranking Legion NCO standing next to him.

The man answered without hesitation. “
Oui
. We go back.”

Nodding their heads in agreement, the other NCOs representing the 7th Cavalry gave their support.

“This isn’t a fucking democracy,” the pilot told them hotly. “I’m the commander of this boat, and we have orders to return to
Guadalcanal
. And that’s what we’re-”

He froze as Mills smoothly raised his assault rifle and pressed the muzzle against the pilot’s helmet. “Look, mate,” he said in a low voice, “the more you flap those gums of yours the less time we have to pick up those fellows on that ship back there. If you or your friend here,” he glanced at the copilot, who was staring down the muzzle of a weapon held by one of the 7th Cav NCOs, “utter one more word before you turn this tub around, I’ll blow your bloody fucking head off. And please don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t pull the trigger.” 

The pilot’s mouth worked for a moment, but in the end he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. With a helpless, angry look at his copilot, he turned back to the ship’s controls and turned them around. 

Steph watched the starfield turn beyond the ship’s cockpit window, praying that Ichiro was still alive.

* * *

Aboard
McClaren
, a very one-sided battle raged in the passageways and compartments of the stricken ship. While the crew fought bravely, they weren’t trained as Marines. And without Ruiz and the others in their armored vacuum suits, the Kreelan warriors held the advantage. The
McClaren’s
crewmen were killing the aliens, but not fast enough, and too many of the defending sailors were dying in the process.

Sato’s team had managed to hold off the advance of the Kreelans who were trying to come down the passageway his men and women were defending, but he was suspicious: they hadn’t been trying as hard as he thought they might. His sailors had killed three or four as they tried to force themselves around a turn, but aside from occasionally peering out to see if the humans were still there, they were staying put.

From the sounds coming from other parts of the ship, the same was clearly not true. Sato had sent two men as runners to find the other teams and report what was happening; neither had returned. The bark of automatic weapons and the explosion of grenades echoed through the metal of the bulkheads and the deck, clear indications of savage fighting.