Star Force 12 Demon Star (18 page)

“You good?” I asked as I clomped over.

“Brilliant,” she replied, grabbing my shoulders and lifting herself off the floor to kiss me through my faceplate. “You look like hell.”

“I made a mistake,” I replied. “I assumed the Demons had been beaten, and I forgot they don’t need spacesuits. They abandoned ship and boarded.”

“How?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How did they reach
Valiant
? I mean, with no suits, how did they maneuver to attack us in open space?”

“Good question. Find out and we’ll both know,” I said, putting her down carefully. “I have to go.”

“Stop by the infirmary first,” she said, pointing down the passage with a long-nailed finger.

“I’m fine, and I’m sure they’re busy with the seriously wounded.”

“That’s why you need to stop by. Show you care. Press the flesh. Good for morale.”

I chuckled. “I’d like to press some flesh with you.”

Adrienne smiled. “That’s just the adrenaline talking. Now go on, off with you.” She sat back down at her consoles. “I have a lot of parts to make.”

I resisted another sexual joke and left her to her work.

Withdrawing my gauntlets into my suit, I clapped a busy Doctor Achmed on the back as he set a marine’s broken leg. Speaking encouragement to everyone around, the wounded cheered me. I felt guilty because it was my mistake that had put them there.

I left the infirmary as soon as I could.

The armory was already beginning to fill with marines servicing their weapons and dropping off their suits to recharge. Relieved chatter mixed with rough jokes, and a grim mutter of greeting sounded when I arrived.

I saw Moranian sitting on a bench in a corner, staring at a gauntlet held in her gloved hand. When I’d backed my suit into its niche, I walked over to her.

“You did good work today, Sergeant,” I said.

She looked up at me, short red hair plastered on her skull and her eyes haunted. “Thank you, sir.”

“Your first combat leading troops who didn’t make it?” I guessed.

She nodded. I pressed my lips together considering her distress. “I don’t have any easy answers, Rosalie. We take it one day at a time and we make it through.”

Hefting the gauntlet, she turned it over, and it dripped blood onto her knee. The color was a surreal near-match to her vivid locks. I realized that the gauntlet wasn’t hers, and it wasn’t empty.

Someone’s severed hand remained inside.

“This was Rayburn’s,” she said.

I dredged the man’s name out of my memory. He was a lance corporal, a good man…and one of the KIAs.

“He had a family back home,” she said. “Now they don’t have him. He came so far—but didn’t make it. Doesn’t seem right.” She slammed the metal gauntlet on the bench beside her. She looked like she was fighting an urge to vomit.

Post-combat reaction could do this to the strongest of us, I knew. Biology didn’t care about decorum or embarrassment. Stuff like this was one reason marines drank so much.

I wanted to put a comradely arm around her and comfort her, but I couldn’t risk it. Considering the history between us, it might reignite Adrienne’s jealousy.

Spotting Gunny Taksin, I grabbed his elbow and whispered in his ear, steering him toward Moranian. He nodded and sat down, talking her through it.

I wished I could have done it, but I kept myself at arms’ length from everyone except Adrienne, so I wouldn’t be wrecked every time someone died.

That necessary distance denied me many of the common mechanisms my people had for coping with tragedy. They had to see me as larger than life in order to believe in me…in order to believe in getting home against overwhelming odds, in order to keep from cracking.

After every battle, my little band diminished, grew more fragile. With no replacements to our community, no reinforcements, everyone was worried. Especially the marines who stood on the front line.

Something had to be done, something drastic and maybe dangerous. An idea occurred to me once more, an unorthodox idea, but it would need time to implement. I put it on hold for the moment.

I made a quick round, slapping backs and speaking words of praise to my dwindling cadre of Pigs. After that I washed my face as a poor substitute for a shower, grabbed a beer to take the edge off and headed for the bridge. Everything still hurt, but I could feel the fizz-in-the-blood sensation that told me my nanites were working to heal me.

I dropped the squeeze-bottle into a corner for ejection through the deck before touching a wall and turning it into a door.

Hansen nodded to me as I joined him at the holotank. Lazar was sitting in the pilot’s seat, looking nervous. There was no need for him to be edgy. We were floating in space—or technically, still traveling toward Ellada, but as everything held position together in a free-fall, it was a minor distinction.

The rest of the bridge was deserted, with only the minimum number of watch crew. The rest were helping with repairs and damage control.

“What about that Demon prisoner I wanted?” I asked before Hansen could speak.

“It’s in the brig,” he replied.

“I’m going to see it.”

“Now?”

“I might learn something vital.”

Hansen growled and turned away.

“Valiant,” I said, “have Kwon meet me at the brig.”

When I got there, I found Kwon waiting.

“We have a prisoner, Kwon. Want to see it firsthand?”

Kwon chuckled. “Why do you always want to talk to the enemy? Just kill them.”

“Because there’s always a chance we can find something out that helps us win.”

“Whatever you say,” he said with a shrug.

“I say back me up, but don’t say anything, okay?”

“Okay, boss.”

I closed up my faceplate and entered the outer brig, a small room with a couple of desks, lockers and screens for guards to occupy. A Demon-shaped helmet and battle harness lay in a heap on a small table, along with one of their pulsed-plasma rifles.

The two marines there saluted me. I returned the courtesy and said, “Give me a view inside the cell.” A screen lit up, and I saw a humanoid Demon squatting awkwardly atop the metal chair bolted to the floor. It appeared to be injured, with one upper limb broken and dangling, dripping ichor.

“Open it up,” I said.

The ship created a dilating doorway, and I stepped into the opening.

“Kwon, leave the rifle outside. The two of us in suits can handle him. Corporal, close the door behind us.”

When we’d gone inside, the door vanished. We barely fit in the room with the Demon backed up into a corner, holding up its unbroken limb.

“Valiant, do we have any translation software for Demons yet?”

“Yes. Marvin provided a partial data set before his priorities were diverted. I have since refined it as I was able. It should suffice for basic understanding.”

“Good work. Translate then, and project my words to its ears…or whatever. Does it have ears?”

“It has sound receptors.”

“Good. Creature, do you understand me?” I asked.

“I hear,” came the flat-toned, translated response.

“Why do you attack the humans and Ketans?”

“We do what we must.”

Hmm. This thing specialized in vague answers. “Why are your ships lined with slime?”

“I’m not permitted to provide information regarding the technical capabilities of our war vessels.”

“Fair enough. What was your role in the battle?”

“I do not understand.”

“Were you a pilot? A technician? A passenger, a marine?”

“I repaired machinery.”

“What machinery?”

“All machinery.”

Okay, maybe they didn’t differentiate by specialty. Maybe I could approach this from another angle, because this bug didn’t seem very sophisticated. Maybe, if he was hive-grown and programmed, he wouldn’t know much about bullshit, sneakiness and interrogation.

“What would happen if the slime coating inside your ship stopped flowing?” I asked.

“I would repair the regenerative organs.”

“Why would you repair it?”

“To avoid crew efficiency degradation.”

“How might they be degraded?”

“Crew effectiveness suffers when the lining is breached.”

I reached up to scratch my chin, but my gauntlet bounced off my faceplate. I wanted to crack it open, but if this prisoner had any chance of hurting me, it would be through an open visor, so I resisted the urge.

“Okay,” I said thoughtfully. “What if the lining were entirely stripped away? What would happen?”

“The crew would mutiny. But you know this already. Why do you ask me, a lowly repairer unit?”

“You’re the only one left alive to ask,” I said.

“You’re not Elladan, are you?” the bug asked me. “This ship is not of their design. This I know.”

I didn’t answer. After all, I was supposed to be interrogating him.

“We’re not Elladan,” I said. “We look like them, but we’re independent.”

“I believe you are trying to deceive me,” it said. “You fought with the Elladan as allies. The battle briefings warned against the deceptiveness of Elladans and their allies, so unlike the honesty of True Ones like ourselves. You’re as pathetic as I was told. I will say nothing more.”

True to his word, he wouldn’t talk after that. I considered breaking off a few extra antennae, but ruled it out. Who knew if he would even care? When we exited the cell, I was surprised to hear Kwon start laughing.

“What a stupid guy,” Kwon said. “Doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground!”

That made me think. “Yes, you’re right. But he gave me hints despite his stone-walling.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” I checked my chrono. “No more time, but this has been interesting. Let’s go.”

On the way out, I told Kwon to provide the critter with water and whatever food or material Valiant said it could eat. I still wanted to talk to it later, but right now I had too many balls in the air. I decided to head for the bridge.

“What?” I asked Hansen as I arrived.

The holotank displayed the Ellada-moon planetary system, including their orbital fortresses and warships. The time stamp showed half an hour in the past, so Hansen had obviously set the view to get me up to speed on what had happened during the battle for Ellada—a battle that must be mostly over.

“They redeployed based on the expected kinetic attack to preserve some of their fixed assets,” he said, gesturing.

“I see what you mean.” The Elladans had formed their slow-moving forts into several groups, and then lined them up along the enemy axis of approach, with the largest of them set as shields for the smaller ones. There was even a group that had been moved behind their moon.

Hansen touched a control, and the view advanced, fast-forwarding.

“There are the bundles, breaking up.” The fake battleships, which had never decelerated, shattered and spread out into kinetic darts. “They have thrusters and control mechanisms to aim them at different targets within a narrow arc, but they’re going too fast to truly maneuver.”

“Right.” I watched as the darts approached the fortresses lined up in front of the Elladan warships. They looked like too many children hiding behind too few trees. “How does it turn out?”

Hansen looked grim. “Best to watch, Skipper.”

I growled impatiently and ratcheted up the play-back speed until the darts began slamming into the closest fortresses. Mines detonated just before the darts landed, destroying some and knocking others off course—but there were too many going too fast. They tore the guts out of their targets and blasted on through.

Fortunately, the impacts changed their trajectories enough so that most of them missed the fortresses hiding behind, but a few impacted the next in line, and one even struck a third.

“What’s this bundle doing?” I pointed at a group of a dozen darts that were taking a different course.

Hansen’s face turned grim. “You’ll see.”

I watched as the group flew unopposed, diverging slightly toward…Ellada.

“Crap.”

“You said it.”

At the last minute, Elladan warships raced to intercept the kinetic missiles, but it was too late. The metal bolts plunged down into the atmosphere, transforming briefly into bright fireballs before stabbing into the hearts of twelve Elladan cities.

“Damn,” I breathed.

“Yeah. They had to suffer millions of dead, unless they evacuated. Even then, the economic damage…”

“The Demons suckered them,” I said with sudden realization. “They did the same thing to the Whales. They deliberately drew the Elladans out of position then went for the civilians. When the Elladans set up to counter the attack, they left the planet itself vulnerable. I’m actually surprised they didn’t get hit harder.”

“Maybe the Demons want something left to conquer,” Hansen replied.

In a few more seconds, the holotank display slowed down to a real-time view of the battle. I forced myself to forget about the obliterated cities and concentrate on the military situation.

All told, about half of the Elladan battle stations survived, and all of their warships, of course. Still, between the stealth attack a few days ago and this, they’d lost at least half of their defenses. Combine that with the fact that half their mobile fleet—the best, most effective half, I strongly suspected—would arrive late to the battle. They were about to get hammered by an attacking force at least twice their strength.

“This is ugly,” I said.

“Would have been worse without our help.”

I looked at Hansen’s haggard face. He’d aged in the last year. He was in his forties, but right now he seemed to be a decade older. “Still think we should stay out of it?”

Slowly, he shook his bald head. “When it was the Whales…well, hell, they’re not human, and their planet could swallow a thousand Earths. They weren’t at risk of genocide, just being knocked back to the stone age. But these people are human, and Earthlike planets…”

“Are small and fragile, by comparison,” I finished for him. I raised my voice enough for everyone to hear. “Also, if the Demons win here, we’re screwed both ways. If we can’t get back to Earth, we will have lost the only other planet we’re ever likely to feel at home on. And if we can get back to Earth, that means the Demons can reach Earth, too. Then we’ll regret we didn’t help our allies stop them here, even if that takes more sacrifice.”