The Epherium Chronicles: Echoes (11 page)

The first blast from the lance scratched the surface of the door, but there wasn’t a second. The warrior flinched backward in obvious pain. It lost its connection to the hull and floated away, still under fire from its attackers.

Several Marines in armored environmental suits positioned behind the mount of the
Armstrong’s
particle cannon made quick work of the other Cilik’ti in the group, but more were on the way. An assault craft escorting the next group of warriors extended its weapons arrays to attack the Marines.

The Marines ducked behind the armored plates protecting the cannon, but the barrage of fire from the Cilik’ti ship didn’t come. The assault craft soared past their position, and explosions tore through its superstructure.

Nestled in an inactive rail gun turret, Priest targeted the craft with his MACE unit’s powerful sniper rifle. His second shot punctured its aft fuel pod, igniting the volatile gel. A storm of blue plasma consumed the rest of the ship, which exploded a few seconds later.

“Yeah!” Priest heard his friend Kirtland yell over the comms. “One down, plenty more for us!”

Priest gave a thumbs-up to Kirtland and the other Marine in his platoon, then took up his rifle again. Several additional groups of Cilik’ti warriors landed across the expansive hull of the Dreadnaught, and more Marines opened fire from covered positions in defense of their ship.

Priest’s weapon dropped three more Cilik’ti warriors before they closed the distance to his friends. The Marines worked in teams of three to attack the larger Cilik’ti. Bullets ricocheted off Cilik’ti armor and were returned in kind by plasma blasts from the warriors’ pulse lances.

One of the Marines in Kirtland’s trio took a direct hit from a pulse staff blast and was catapulted off the ship. Kirtland ducked a second blast and issued three controlled bursts of his own. The rounds penetrated the warrior’s armor at the base of the neck. The large alien’s body tumbled sideways and floated off the hull. With another powerful yell over the comms, Kirtland charged the next Cilik’ti to his left.

Priest heard his squad-mate’s shout and targeted the same warrior. Before he could fire, Kirtland released his magnetic boots and vaulted onto the warrior’s back. The dangerous move proved fruitful as his rounds found open seams in the warrior’s armor plates. He rode the creature down to the metal hull below it and fired one last burst into the Cilik’ti warrior’s head.

Kirtland raised his arms in triumph and rallied another victorious trio of Marines to join him in an assault on two more Cilik’ti who’d just landed. Priest put a round through the neck of the warrior on the left, and Kirtland’s group dispatched the second with sustained fire to its head and thorax.

A large explosion several hundred meters away consumed Priest’s vision. Another of the Cilik’ti assault craft had fallen victim to the
Armstrong’s
fighters. More Cilik’ti warriors were blown free of the exploding ship and landed in a tight group closer amidships from Kirtland’s position. In the center of the group was a towering warrior in black armor accented in bright green markings.

Priest hadn’t seen one of the so-called Chi’tan elite warriors during the battle on Cygni, but Kirtland’s description he’d provided afterward was unmistakable. The menacing warrior ignored the nearby Marine attacks and stormed over to the nearest air lock door. It raised its larger pulse lance and fired. Bright blue plasma burned into the armored door, melting away a half-meter section.

The Chi’tan elite warrior reached its powerful arm into the hole and grabbed the melted edges. The warrior surged backward, tearing part of the door free from its anchors and exposing the vulnerable interior air lock. It pounded the air lock with its lance, cracking the thinner metal wall. The tattoos of the warrior’s armor flared bright, mimicking the warrior’s power. When it raised its lance for another strike, two of the Cilik’ti warriors to its right collapsed.

The huge warrior wheeled to face the threat as more of his warriors fell around him. Its large armored head swiveled from side to side. Three MACE units surrounded the huge warrior, each taking careful aim at the Cilik’ti, almost waiting for it to make the first move.

The Chi’tan elite warrior crouched low, bending its legs like powerful springs, then lunged toward the MACE to its left. The Marine in the MACE opened fire, striking the warrior’s left arm. The rounds struck hard but didn’t penetrate the thick armor. The warrior used the impact to spin around and unleash a low sweep with its lance. The long, thick lance contacted the MACE’s knee joint, bending it inward at a sharp angle. The warrior’s sweep carried through and drove the heavy powered armor unit’s legs from underneath it.

Priest tried to take another shot to support his injured teammate, but fire from another Cilik’ti threw off his aim, and he had to crouch behind the turret wall.

No longer attached to the hull, the crippled MACE started to float away. Its pilot struggled to grasp his weapon and find a handhold to the
Armstrong
. The other two MACE units opened fire in defense of their friend. The Chi’tan warrior sidestepped the first burst and grabbed his previous target by its rear housing. Thrusting the helpless MACE unit in front of its body, the Chi’tan warrior used the power-armored Marine as a shield. Three full bursts from the other MACEs struck it in the chest before they stopped firing. The last group of rounds penetrated the MACE’s armor, exposing its power core. Its integrity compromised, the armor ejected its environmental suit-encased pilot to temporary safety in space away from the ship.

The warrior glanced at the pilot floating away then tossed the damaged armor at its two new combatants. The armor suit struck the MACE on the right just as its damaged power core detonated. The energy discharge tore off the right leg at the knee joint and the entire left arm of the unsuspecting MACE unit and sent it spinning into space.

The other Marine MACE pilot managed to brace himself for the explosion. It regained its feet and took aim at the Chi’tan warrior, only to be met with a powerful blast from its pulse lance. The impact staggered the MACE, and bright blue plasma burned into the armor of its left shoulder. A second blast landed dead center of its chest, tearing a large hole clean through. The MACE unit stopped and its rifle dangled to its side. Magnetic boots held the Marine’s armor unit in place—a lifeless statue until the end of the battle.

Priest watched in horror at the loss of his friends. He was finally free of the enemy that had kept him pinned down, but now they were gone. He screamed in anguish over the comms then tried to rally additional units to stop the Chi’tan behemoth.

The giant warrior returned to the air lock, but standing in its way was a single figure. Priest heard Kirtland’s voice over the comms. His cry was one of challenge and fear. His platoon members were nowhere to be seen, and he stood alone against the Chi’tan warrior that was over three times his height.

It raised its lance to smite Kirtland. The lance’s downstroke toward Kirtland’s head was in full flight when it and a piece of the elite warrior’s arm spun away. The powerful warrior recoiled in pain and grasped its severed limb with its other hand. Sound didn’t travel in space, but Priest was sure if the creature could have spoken, its words would have been laden with curses.

His armor signaled another round was ready, and Priest took careful aim once more. His next shot struck the warrior in the neck just above the torso. He couldn’t tell if it penetrated, but he gained its attention.

The Chi’tan warrior spun toward him and charged. The warrior’s armor provided strong magnetics to keep it on the hull, but it didn’t slow it down. The six-legged Cilik’ti closed the distance in a few seconds.

The surge of adrenaline made Priest’s hand grip the weapon tighter. He fired again. The round from his sniper rifle struck home and ripped into the Chi’tan warrior’s shoulder. The warrior didn’t flinch and kept on coming. Dark blood oozed from its shoulder and severed limb, then vaporized into a mist that trailed behind. Priest squeezed his weapon’s trigger to launch another round, but it deflected off the warrior’s thick, armored breastplate.

The warrior was almost upon him. He ducked behind the protective wall of the turret. Fear and anxiety made his hands shake. He whispered a prayer to steady himself and readied his rifle for a point-blank shot.

The huge Cilik’ti warrior surged over the edge of the wall and reached for Priest’s MACE with its remaining arm. Priest held his ground and pulled the trigger on his rifle. The round struck the Cilik’ti on the lower part of its neck, penetrating the chitinlike armor plating.

The warrior was pushed up with the impact and reached for its neck in obvious agony. Priest prepared another round, but a large high-velocity projectile slammed hard into the side of the warrior, scattering pieces of its armor all around his MACE. The warrior was thrown clear of the turret wall and stood next to its edge to gauge what had happened.

Another MACE raced toward his position, holding a larger armored projectile launcher. The Cilik’ti warrior reeled in pain from the grievous wound to its side. Tender flesh under the armor and protective carapace was now exposed to the cold zero-pressure environment of space. Priest recognized his rescuer as Sergeant Toronaga and his desperate panic changed to relief.

Toronaga’s closing MACE fired another shell at the Cilik’ti. This time the warrior anticipated the attack and skittered to its left. The shell missed its target and impacted on the armored hull of the
Armstrong
. Still in stride, Toronaga discarded the empty weapon, extended the metal blades from his MACE’s forearms and slammed into the hulking Cilik’ti. The two tumbled across the exterior hull of the ship.

The warrior righted itself, but Toronaga’s MACE clung tight to the monster with its left arm blades sunk deep into the open wound on the warrior’s side. The Cilik’ti swiveled to throw Toronaga loose. It didn’t work, and the warrior fought to reach its cruel antagonist with its remaining arm. Toronaga twisted his left arm, causing more damage to the exposed area of the warrior, and slashed with his right at its armored legs.

From his vantage point, Priest could tell the Cilik’ti elite warrior was slowing down. Its wounds had to be taking their toll. Toronaga’s MACE jabbed the blades of its right hand into the warrior’s thorax between folds of its armor.

In response, the warrior arched its neck high then drove its armored head down into Toronaga. The blow was fierce, but Toronaga’s MACE didn’t let go. The warrior tried again, but before it could strike, Priest’s next shot penetrated the armor on the back of its head and tore into its triangular skull. The warrior’s whole body stiffened for a moment then went slack against Toronaga’s MACE.

“Sergeant, are you alright?” Priest asked as he climbed over the wall of the turret.

“Yeah,” Toronaga groaned. “I’m fine.”

Priest raced over to the fallen Chi’tan warrior’s corpse and helped separate his platoon leader from its body. No longer using Toronaga as an anchor, the Chi’tan warrior’s body floated away from the hull and into space.

Priest scanned the area. A handful of Cilik’ti remained along the hull and they were under heavy fire from the defending Marines. His suit’s sensors tracked back to the damaged air lock. A lone figure stood on top of the mangled air lock door.

“Kirtland!” Priest yelled into the comms. He and Toronaga raced to the air lock. Kirtland wasn’t moving. They called for him again—he didn’t answer.

Priest reached him first. Kirtland was conscious but his face was ashen. There weren’t any visible wounds on his body, and the MACE’s sensors didn’t detect any leaks in his armor. “He’s in shock. We need to get him to Medical.” He examined the air lock beneath them then gestured toward another air lock almost thirty meters away. “We can’t get him in through this door, but that one looks functional.”

Taking extra care with their teammate, the two MACE units carried Kirtland to the other air lock. Along the way, Priest glanced at the battle above them. To his relief, he couldn’t see any more assault crafts. However, drones were engaged with fighters everywhere. The Cilik’ti weren’t going to storm the ship, but the battle was far from over. He prayed the fighter pilots and gunships would be as successful in their mission as the Marines had been.

Chapter Twelve

The tactical screens on Aldridge’s station were filled with activity. All the
Armstrong’s
fighter squadrons had performed well against the swarming Cilik’ti drone fighters. None of them had dropped below half strength, and she waited for the order to call in Delta’s bombers to attack the cruiser.

The Phantoms had been the most impressive. Their synchronized combat style had eliminated the drone fighters escorting the assault craft. With the patrol zone empty of targets, Aldridge ordered them to engage the drones protecting the cruiser and clear a path for the Deltas to strike.

The Phantoms cut through the defending drones like a crack surgeon wielding a scalpel. They maintained the tight-knit wingman pairs, wavering only when pressed to the extreme. The pair that maintained their close distance and perfect synchronization was Kadin and Raven. Their fighters darted through waves of Cilik’ti drones in a tango of death. They moved as one, and their anticipation of the enemy was unbelievable.

Her terminal chimed, and her elation almost made her jump. “Captain, I’ve isolated the wave generator on the Cilik’ti cruiser!” The generator was located just forward of its engines along its armored underbelly. She transferred the information to Hood’s station.

Hood’s answer didn’t take long. “Generate a targeting solution for all port-side rail guns. Prepare to fire them on my order and prime the particle cannon.” She had anticipated his request, and the targeting solution was seconds from completion. The particle cannon’s capacitor was fully charged for one shot, and she prepped the cannon for firing.

“Helm, execute port-side z-180 roll.” Hood issued the command and watched his terminal closely.

Aldridge felt the slight shift in her balance when the external maneuvering thrusters engaged. The
Armstrong
rolled to her port side and stopped with her fully charged rail guns facing the Cilik’ti cruiser.

The targeting solution was ready, and she fed it to the rail gun gunnery stations.

Hood spun his head toward her. “Fire, Lieutenant!”

She triggered the fire command, and the rail guns roared to life in unison. The metal armor-piercing projectiles streaked across the battlefield in a few seconds and slammed into the cruiser. The ordinance peppered the latter half of the cruiser, wrecking armor and penetrating deep inside. Secondary explosions erupted near the targeted area, and the wave signal the sensors were tracking disappeared.

“We hit it, Captain! The energy wave is down!”

“Confirmed,” Sanchez seconded. “Energy levels on the reactors are increasing and instability is gone.”

“Aldridge, when the reactors reach fifty percent, fire the particle cannon on the cruiser,” Hood instructed. She understood his reasoning. The rail guns were already recharging and if he wanted a second shot with the cannon, the power levels needed to be higher or he risked a brownout across the ship.

She put the reactor power monitor on her screen when a flashing damage indicator on the rear fuselage of one of the Phantoms caught her eye. It was Raven’s fighter. Aldridge switched her comm set back to the Phantom squadron channel.

“How bad is it, Raven?” Kadin asked his wingman.

“That last drone clipped me. Main power is failing,” Raven replied, her voice erratic. “Watch out!” she cried out.

Another group of drones vectored in to attack. The two Stingray fighters rolled together, but Raven’s fighter fell out of sync with Kadin. Critical damage indicators spread across her fighter.

“Kadin!” she screamed into the comms.

Sweat poured down Aldridge’s forehead. Both fighters disappeared from Aldridge’s screen.
No!
Trying to suppress her panic, she searched for EVA signals. Only one appeared. The ID belonged to Raven, and her EVA suit signaled her vitals were critical. The other Phantoms were separated from Kadin’s and Raven’s position, tracking down more drones. A few of the pairs were clear of any hostiles, and she vectored them back to Raven’s position for close cover. Two rescue shuttles were currently deployed for other EVA pilots. One was on its way back to the
Armstrong
, but the second was shadowing one of the gunships and throttled up to reach the endangered pilot.

Once she was certain the shuttle was in range, she checked the reactor levels. Power levels had surpassed the 50 percent mark. She verified there was a clean target path and activated the particle cannon. The blue energy crackled and built around the huge weapon. It released its payload toward the cruiser. The energy ball, hungry to devour its target, sped across the spatial medium. Before it reached the Cilik’ti warship, the energy’s trajectory diverted. The energy ball passed below the cruiser without striking it.

Aldridge checked her system. The cruiser had emitted a powerful gravity field and seconds later disappeared in a space-fold jump. The few remaining drones went inactive and were dispatched by the
Armstrong’s
fighters.

A sense of relief flowed over her and the adrenaline of the moment eased.

Hood bounded up to her station. “What’s our damage?”

A few exterior sections had taken hits from assault craft and attacks from Cilik’ti troops on the hull, but nothing severe. Considering the situation, Aldridge believed they were lucky. The cruiser never engaged and, whatever strange weapon they used to hinder their reactors, she couldn’t be certain it had been destroyed.

The list of casualties started to flow in to her terminal. There were no internal crew injuries reported, but the Marine list was growing. She filtered to show the fighter pilots. All identified EVA pilots had been rescued. Lieutenant Commander Kadin Greywalker was MIA and presumed dead. Tears welled in her eyes and she covered her mouth to keep from crying.

Hood saw the name and glanced up at her. The comfort she found there gave her strength. She knew it wasn’t easy to inform a family member of a loss and she didn’t envy him one bit on this one. “Get damage control working on repairs and rotate in our fighters. Keep the colony on alert. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

* * *

Struggling to maintain control of his Stingray fighter, Lester Styles pulled hard on his controls and rolled the fighter to the left just in time to avoid another burst of cannon fire. The game of cat and mouse he’d been playing with his pursuer had gone on for over five minutes, and he could see no way to escape.

His HUD flashed a warning again. Two missiles were inbound. He checked the time to impact. When it reached three seconds, he broke right and accelerated. Turning his fighter into a roll, he reversed direction. One missile turned early to follow, while the second banked up to meet his roll. The two missiles collided and exploded in a harmless display behind him.

Styles let out the breath he was holding. “Dammit, Hood! Where the hell are you?”

His sensors picked up a faint echo in front of him, and his HUD flashed red with a hostile targeting lock. Cannon fire riddled his cockpit, striking his shoulder and legs. Oxygen from his suit filled the cockpit, and his ship became a fireball that echoed with his screams.

* * *

Hood woke in a cold sweat on the edge of his bed wrapped in his blankets. His dream about Styles had been more intense this time. He was surprised he could sleep at all. The crew had stayed at General Quarters for sixteen hours since the attack by the Chi’tan cruiser, and Hood hadn’t missed a minute of it. The attack by the cruiser was simple and too easy. Perhaps they were testing him or even testing their weapons, but that cruiser wasn’t the run-of-the-mill Cilik’ti warship. They’d be back.

Could the Chi’tan have been responsible for the destruction of the Qu’tan mother ship?
He asked himself the question over and over. He examined several possible scenarios, but all of them were inconclusive. There had to be another reason. He still needed Kree. Unfortunately, his Cilik’ti friend had reverted back to his incoherent state.

At least he’d gained a small measure of relief. Sanchez had volunteered to inform Lieutenant Greywalker of her brother’s death in the battle. The loss was a major blow to the morale of the Phantoms and to the other squadrons. His wingman, Raven, was in critical condition and hadn’t regained consciousness.

He sat up and activated the small light above his bed. There was a small towel on his nightstand. He grabbed it and started to wipe his face when a figure moved in the shadows. Not taking his eyes of the intruder into his quarters, he eased his hand toward the nightstand’s secured drawer. Since the attack on the Epherium office on board, he had kept a sidearm close by. The figure moved again and the dim light revealed a familiar face. Jillian Howard. He’d forgotten he’d given her the code to his quarters. “Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

Jillian walked closer then stiffened. She cried out in pain, and he heard an object drop to the floor with a clink. He called for the lights.

Standing behind Jillian, holding the woman’s right wrist, was Maya Greywalker. Maya placed her left hand on Jillian’s shoulder and forced her down to her knees. Jillian’s head sagged toward the floor.

Hearing Jillian’s cry snapped a fuse inside him. He jumped to his feet. “Lieutenant, explain yourself!” he commanded.

Maya’s blue eyes held an eerie calm. “Captain, I was returning to my quarters when I noticed Lieutenant Commander Howard entering your quarters.” A small flick of her foot sent a dark piece of metal clamoring next to his leg. “Even at the late hour, her entering your quarters wasn’t my concern until I saw this tucked against her forearm.”

Hood peered down at the object next to his foot. It was a Marine combat knife. Confused, he rubbed his temple with the heel of his palm in an attempt to remove the cobwebs clouding his faculties. “Let her up, Lieutenant.” Maya hesitated. “That’s an order. I want to hear her explanation.”

Maya let go of Jillian and stepped back. Now free of Maya’s restraining grip, Jillian stood and issued a deep-throated growl from behind the stringy mass of strawberry blond hair that covered her face. She flipped her head in the direction of the knife on the floor. Her hair cleared away from her face, and what Hood witnessed froze him in place.

Jillian’s eyes danced in random directions and her pupils were completely dilated. She snarled and lunged forward. She never made it. Maya grabbed her shoulder and spun the smaller woman around. With the quickness and ferocity of a wild animal, Jillian thrust her hands at Maya’s neck. Centimeters from tearing Maya’s unprotected throat, Jillian screamed. Her body jerked for a few seconds then collapsed to the floor.

The scent of ozone permeated the air in Hood’s quarters, and Maya placed the security taser back into its holster at her left hip. She kneeled beside Jillian and checked her pulse. She gave Hood an affirming nod and activated her comm band. “Control, I need a med team in the captain’s quarters. I have a crew member down.” She glanced up at Hood. “Sir, are you alright?”

Still standing in place, Hood didn’t want to move. Confusion, grief and fear had him paralyzed. “What just happened?” He found the strength to point at Jillian’s face. “Did you see her eyes?”

Maya nodded. “I’ve never seen this before, Captain.” She opened one of Jillian’s eyelids with her index finger. Her eyes danced slower, like a deep REM sleep, but the pupils were still dilated. “You might want to keep your distance. I’m not sure how long she’ll be out.”

Hood stared at Jillian’s prone form. She had just tried to kill him. But why? It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t stop thinking about her eyes. It wasn’t natural.
It’s a nightmare. I have to be still asleep.
A quick pinch of his arm and a flash of pain vanished his theory. Now the reality of the moment set in. Desperation consumed him. He wanted her to wake up and be the same Jillian.
But what if she doesn’t wake up?

Three members of the medical team arrived with a hover stretcher. They examined Jillian, but she remained unconscious. They bound her arms and placed her on the stretcher, taking care to support her head and neck. The team lifted the stretcher and headed out the door.

Hood opened the cabinet to his left and pulled out his uniform. “Lieutenant, I’m headed to med bay. I need you to review bits of security feeds you have since the Cilik’ti attack. There has to be a connection.” His thoughts went to the colonists on the planet below. Jillian had also been in the Embrace units on the way to Cygni. Could something about the planet be affecting her as well?

Maya’s security team arrived. “My investigation has already begun, sir. I’ll update you in a few hours.”

“Good.” He finished dressing and hustled out the door. When he arrived at the med bay, Dr. Patton was waiting for him outside.

“Captain, I can’t let you inside.”

“What do you mean by can’t?” he replied in anger.

“Commander Howard regained consciousness just before we got her through the doors. We removed her initial bonds to put her in the ones attached to the bed. She went crazy and struck one my nurses. It took three of my staff and two more security guards to restrain her.” He looked back inside. “We’ve sedated her, but I’m not sure how long it’ll hold. All her vitals are superelevated. I don’t want to put you at risk.”

Hood released an exasperated sigh. “I understand.” He closed his eyes.
What else can go wrong?
“I’m headed to the Command Deck. Comm me if there’s any change in her condition.”

* * *

Maya sat quietly at the desk in her quarters. Her team’s investigation into Jillian Howard’s attack on the captain had failed to turn up any leads. There wasn’t suspicious contact with anyone besides Kree. She’d been with him during the battle, and nothing out of the ordinary had shown on the security monitors when she’d left. The ones on the inside of Kree’s room weren’t functioning and seemed to go in and out. She imagined Kree was capable of disabling them when he wanted to be alone. Her single piece of physical evidence was the combat knife. That too was a dead end. It had been given to the woman by the Marines on Cygni, and the knife had been listed in her personal belongings before boarding the
Armstrong.