Citizen X - BP01 Page 18

"Three months?"

  "That's the best we can do, sir."

  "Very well. Order the Pellew to proceed immediately to the last reported position of the Perry and commence a search for the ship. I'll notify SHQ that I've changed the Pellew's patrol route in order to deal with this situation."

  "Yes, sir."

  * * *

  "The Abissto reached Diabolisto and established a camp on the surface," the hooded figure said. "The Captain of the Glassama went to see if he could render assistance and was spotted by an SC destroyer. They tried to escape, but the Spacc ship was faster. It pursued them and tried to merge envelopes in order to destroy their FTL generator, but the helmsman on the Glassama attempted an evasion maneuver. The two ships collided."

  "Did anyone survive?" another hooded figure asked.

  "Eighteen of our people were crushed in the wreckage and twelve more are missing and presumed lost when sections of the ship were opened to space. The Captain reports that their FTL generator is intact, but the damage to the hull makes travel at FTL impossible because the ship can't maintain a cohesive temporal envelope. They lost their starboard maneuvering engine and two starboard stern engines in the collision, but they can manage with just the larboard engines for the time being. They're presently sitting fifty thousand kilometers from the Spacc ship and the Spaccs have made no effort to close the distance, which leads the Captain to assume that the Spacc destroyer is much worse off. He wants to know if they should commandeer the Spacc destroyer for our use or destroy it."

  "Commandeer a Space Command vessel in GA space?" the second figure asked in surprise. "Is he insane? X, that would constitute an act of war against the GA. So far all we've done is violate their space."

  "The Spaccs probably consider the attack on the diplomatic yacht an act of terrorism or they would not have attempted to merge envelopes. I doubt that they feel any allegiance to the Clidepp Empire. I would have expected them to simply chase our ship back across the border if not for the attack."

  "We don't want to start a war with the Spaccs," a third said. "We'll have enough to do just bringing down the Empire."

  "I agree. I sent a message telling the Captain not to initiate any action but told him he can respond if the Spaccs attack again."

  "What of the ship we sent to assist the Abissto?"

  "The freighter is still underway. The Glassama was already in GA space, so they decided to assist if they could."

  "So now we have two ships and crews that must be rescued."

  "The freighter will have tugs. As soon as they reach the Abissto, two will hook up and tow the ship across the border while the crew boards the freighter. Then other tugs from the freighter will do the same for the Glassama if they haven't been able to restore their drive."

  "I think we should help the Glassama first. Let's tow it away from the Spacc ship before its idiot captain decides to start a war with the GA."

  "Very well. We just have to hope that the freighter gets there before the Spacc vessel completes its repairs or we may yet have to teach Space Command not to meddle in our affairs, even when they occur in their space."

  * * *

  "Give us an update, Lieutenant Knudsen," Captain Lidden said to the senior Engineering officer. The entire senior staff was assembled in the conference room on the bridge deck.

  "Yes, sir. Since out last meeting, we've made a little progress..."

  "A little?" Lidden said, interrupting.

  "Yes, sir, a little. As I've reported previously, and as we all know so well, the Perry is so far past its prime that proper parts are no longer available. Virtually everything requires fabrication to some extent. We don't have the luxury of time for proper testing and burn-in periods as we go, so some fabricated components fail soon after installation or don't even work initially. We're trying to cobble together complex systems from complex components that were never intended to perform the tasks we're asking of them. Everyone aboard ship who isn't absolutely required for some other task is assisting in the repairs. I have about half of our people working on hull repairs, with the rest allocated to engine power restoration and electronic systems."

  Lidden nodded. "What's the situation with the engines?"

  "As I've reported previously, the larboard maneuvering engine is gone— ripped away during the collision. The two lower stern engines were damaged so extensively that they are scrap, but we're using what parts we can salvage to repair the upper two. The starboard rotating engine is intact but was completely isolated from bridge control when the lower decks were crushed. We're trying to reroute the system pathways and reestablish control of the engine. The FTL generator is intact, but the damage to the hull prevents use because we can't establish a proper temporal envelope until the hull is shaped like a hull instead of a twisted pile of scrap metal. And it likewise suffers from the loss of bridge control."

  "Do you have an estimate for when we might have some sort of propulsion available?"

  "We might have minimal sub-light in six days using the starboard maneuvering engine since sub-light doesn't require a proper hull shape."

  "What about FTL?"

  "I estimate two months."

  "TWO months? Two MORE months?"

  "Captain, following the collision the three lowest decks were twisted scrap. We're attempting to cut away the wreckage and rebuild the hull down there. We're not trying to make it look pretty, just enclose the space. A DATFA envelope isn't like an air bubble. It doesn't assume a more or less predetermined shape. It follows the contours of the ship, so there are some basic design requirements. If a ship tries to go FTL without a cohesive envelope, it can be ripped apart in an instant and have its parts scattered over a light-year of space. It would be as devastating as having a hundred torpedoes explode inside the hull at the same instant."

  Lidden took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "What about communications? We left forty-two of our people on Diabolisto. If the almost three hundred rebels on the planet learn that they're there, they could be in great danger. They must be wondering why we haven't communicated with them."

  "I have a small group working on communications. I can assign more people if you want me to take them off the hull repairs."

  Lidden thought for a moment before saying, "No, we need propulsion even more than communications. If the rebel destroyer repairs their vessel while we're helpless, they might attack us. We must have sensors and basic maneuvering capability so we can bring our intact torpedo tubes and laser arrays to bear. The lives of the hundreds aboard the Perry must take a higher priority than the forty-two we left on Diabolisto."

  * * *

  "Well?" Currulla asked the officer in charge of the search when the shuttles returned. "Did you find them?"

  "We think so," Suflagga said.

  "You think so? Either you did or you didn't."

  "We found— something. We couldn't get a good read on it from the shuttle, but there was something below us. We almost overflew it but the man on the scanning equipment asked for another pass. There were strange, grey— spots— on the ground that offered no heat readings."

  "Terrans are warm-blooded creatures like us. They would have looked yellow on our equipment."

  "I know, but they could have been masking their body temperature somehow. Anyway, we dropped some smoke and got out of the way so the fighters could pepper the area. After they finished, we went back. Because of the bombing, the vegetation was still burning. We couldn't get any kind of read, so we landed some of our people. They had to wait until the smoke finally dissipated, but they didn't find any bodies."

  "So your assumption was wrong?" Currulla asked.

  "They did find indications that something had been there and had left in a hurry."

  "Was it the ones who attacked us, or just some big animals that live in the jungle?"

  "That's what we don't know yet," Suflagga replied. "I put our best trackers on the trail we found and sent everyone else in support. They'll call in when they learn something. I know that b
ig jungle animals didn't destroy our stockpiles."

  "That had to be Spaccs. Who else could have pulled off a raid like that? We saw their ship on the DeTect equipment when it entered orbit and then heard them when they hailed the destroyer. They must have boarded it and determined that we were down on the surface. But I don't understand how they could have landed a force without us seeing it."

  "They probably approached from behind the planet and flew so low that we couldn't pick them up on our equipment."

  "But the vessel left orbit days ago."

  "They needed time for recon and to plan their attack."

  "They left their people behind?"

  "It would seem so. It was a very effective tactic. We never expected anything like that."

  "Yes, they really caught us napping," Currulla said. "Literally."

  "I doubt that will happen again. Everyone is now aware that we're not alone on this planet and that sleeping on guard duty can be the very last dumb thing they ever get to do. How bad was the damage?"

  "They knew what they were doing. We lost all our major ordnance. All we have left is small arms and the fighters."

  "Fighters that are now out of rockets and bombs. Those crazy pilots shot everything they had. The rest was in one of the cargo areas that were destroyed."

  "At least they have their laser weapons."

  "Useless in this jungle. You can't see a target to hit it. The overhead vegetation is too thick."

  "So they're effectively grounded?"

  "Yeah, there's no sense sending them up. Except…"

  "Except?"

  "The Spaccs may not know we have no rockets or bombs left," Suflagga said. "We can rig up some dummy weapons for the fighters so that from a distance it will look like they're armed."

  "What good will that do?"

  "If the Spaccs see armed fighters overhead, it might keep them on the run until we find a good ambush location."

  "We can just keep the trackers on their trail. That will keep them on the run."

  "But it wears down our forces. That jungle is a miserable place. Better to wear the Spaccs down while our people prepare the ambush."

  "Yeah, okay. That makes sense. Where will this ambush take place?"

  "I don't know yet. We'll send the shuttles up to snap images of the terrain. Once we have decent maps, we'll be able to pick the ideal place. Then it's simply a matter of driving them into the trap."

  "It might not be so simple if they discover they're being driven."

  "We'll keep it subtle. They'll never know they're walking into a trap until we spring it. And once we spring it, they'll all be as dead as the sentries they killed."

  "Don't underestimate them. They're professional soldiers, not like most of our lot."

  "For twenty-four years I was a professional soldier for the Empire. I know what I'm doing."

  * * *

  "Mom, have you heard from Syd lately?" Sheree Marcola asked as she sat down to dinner in their New York home.

  "I got her usual weekly vid message," Kathee Deleone said absently.

  "This week?"

  "Yes. Uh, no, come to think of it. The last one I received was about three weeks ago. Today is the day it usually arrives. Maybe there's one in the queue. I haven't checked my mail today."

  "I didn't get one last week or today," Sheree said. "I wonder if something's wrong."

  "What could possibly be wrong?" Curtis Deleone asked. "She's not out in Region Two fighting in this ridiculous war with her hero, Admiral Carver. She's safe and sound right here in Region One. Rather than getting shot at on a daily basis by grotesque-looking aliens, she's checking passports, visas, and shipping manifests. She doing what she wants, and she's as safe as she could be. That's what you want, right? One thing you can be absolutely sure of— no one is going to be trying to kill your baby while she's on simple Border Patrol duty."

  Chapter Sixteen

  ~ Feb. 27th, 2285 ~

  "Have we lost them, Sergeant?" Kennedy asked the noncom with the rear guard team.

  "Negative, sir. We've slowed them a bit, but their trackers are good— real good. It takes them awhile sometimes, what with the false trails and backtracking we've done, but they keep at it until they find our real trail. The good news is that we've widened the distance between us by about another kilometer. I doubt if they'll hear any incidental noise from the platoon now. And if we can keep this up until dark, we'll have a good chance of getting away."

  "How fast are they moving? We've been at this for almost eight hours straight and we need a break."

  "I wouldn't recommend more than ten minutes, sir. Everyone will stiffen up and we have a lot more swamp to cover before dark."

  "Okay, Sergeant. We'll stop at the next clearing for ten minutes."

  "Oo-rah."

  Adrenaline had kept everyone at maximum effort since the raid. By calling a ten-minute rest, it might seem that Kennedy was more or less declaring that the immediate danger was over, so he stressed that the rebels were still close on their heels. Marines immediately dropped their backpacks and then dropped themselves into the tall grass where they were standing.

  Sydnee had never felt so exhausted as she dropped her backpack to the side and then fell backwards next to it. As she disturbed their nesting area, a flurry of insects took flight all around her and then slowly settled again. She hoped she would find the energy to move again when the ten minutes were up. At that moment, it didn't seem likely.

  "Okay," Kennedy said over Com 1, "I want everyone on their feet and ready to travel in sixty seconds. The rebel band is still tracking us and they're coming on strong. I don't have to tell you what will happen if they catch up. Let's be long gone when they arrive at this spot."

  Sydnee assumed that everyone had turned off their helmet's transmit capability on Com 1 because she didn't hear any moans, groans, or comments. It was good that her own transmit circuit was off because she couldn't help groaning a bit as she climbed to her feet and grabbed the backpack. She shooed off a handful of insects and then slung it onto her back using the left strap. The weight nearly toppled her as she twisted to get her right arm into the other strap because she hadn't planted her feet properly, but the load suddenly became weightless as someone behind her grabbed the pack. She was able to get her right arm into the strap and settle the pack on her back before she felt the weight return. She turned and gave the Marine a thumbs up for the assist. He responded in kind.

  As the platoon moved out, Sydnee fell into line like before. The hours seemed to pass like days as they traversed every swamp and marshland the scouts could locate along their general route. More than once it seemed like they were passing through a swamp they had already crossed, but that was just because they had all begun to look alike. Most creatures they encountered moved away from their path, but some seemed to defy them to attack. The scouts usually gave a wide berth to anything large enough to be a problem. To make the situation even more miserable, it began to rain off and on. Sometimes it was gentle, while other times it seemed like they were walking beneath a waterfall.

  Just before the grey of evening gave way to the dark of night, they could see a distant ridgeline of low hills. Kennedy ordered the scouts to head in that direction and the platoon altered course by forty degrees to the right. It would be great to get out of the swamp for a while. Although their personal armor kept them dry, slogging through boggy wetlands and swamps required five times the effort required for crossing jungle and ten times the effort expended while moving through normal forested areas. Climbing hilly terrain couldn't be any worse than what they had been through so far.

  As they changed direction, rain began to fall with an intensity previously unseen. The heavy rain slowed them even more and it took hours to reach the long narrow range of hills.

  News that one of the scouts had identified a depression in the side of a hill was greeted by optimism when the lead scout speculated that an overhanging ledge might provide a respite from the rainfall overnight and req
uested permission to backtrack to check it out. Kennedy told him to continue his regular assignment and ordered a fire team to check out the depression.

  The rest of the platoon dropped their backpacks and their bodies and listened in on Com 1 as four Marines made their way to the identified depression. When they reported that the depression was actually the entrance to a narrow fissure, Kennedy ordered them inside to see if it might be large enough to provide shelter for the night.

  Almost immediately after entering the fissure, the fire team reported that it widened to a narrow cave after a few meters. As they further explored, they continued to report no contacts with any sizable indigenous life forms, although they said that the volume of insects was prodigious.

  The exploration took about half an hour and the final report was that it appeared dry and safe. At the extreme reaches, the team had found a large domed area suitable for overnight habitation. Kennedy immediately ordered everyone inside. The weary Marines picked up their backpacks and entered the cave, then followed a twisting, torturous path to where the explorers had found the large chamber.

  The cave would have been perfect but for the insects and the one wall where water was running down in rivulets. Fortunately, the water was collecting in a pool that seemed to drain off by itself so the rest of the cave was dry, if a bit humid. Scattered rocks sat on sandy soil with a loose, granular feel. The best part was that the cave had to be at least twenty-five degrees cooler than outside.

  Sydnee selected a spot near a sidewall where she'd be out of the way, kicked the loose rocks away, and dropped her pack for just the third time since the raid. She was suddenly more tired than at any time she could ever remember. Adrenaline had kept everyone going throughout the day, but the sense of temporary safety now would cause the adrenal glands to slow the production, and they would begin to react to the exhaustion they were all feeling.

  Before the platoon could rest, they had to prepare their camp. Two Marines took a small holo-projector to the front of the cave and had the unit assemble an image of a rear wall from selected shots of the sidewalls. When it was complete and looked acceptable, they activated the unit. From outside, the fissure no longer looked like a fissure. To anyone more than a meter away, it would appear to be just a half-meter depression in the ridge wall. The projector would adjust the image to conform to the proper lighting from outside and the winding path to the bivouac area meant that no light would be visible from behind the projection.