Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (54 page)

GOLDEN PRISM DOME
GOLDEN GLITTERS III ORBIT, SALUK 199 SYSTEM

The view from Lieutenant Commander Helstead’s helmet cam wobbled a little. The explosion was two blocks away from the mechsuited woman, but the force of the shockwave still rattled the petite woman’s armor. Another, harder explosion rattled the video feed for a moment, sending streaks of static across Ia’s second tertiary screen.
“Captain, there is a
lot
of fighting going on nearby. These people are getting slaughtered!”

“Stay on target,”
Ia ordered her. The
Hellfire
rocked as well. Strafing the ship sideways helped; it gave the gunners, reduced
in number thanks to Helstead’s troops on the ground, time to angle their weaponsfire at the three ships pursuing them.

Splitting their forces was not exactly the best option, but the Gatsugi colony needed defending, and theirs was the only ship anyone could spare. The disturbing fact, one Ia had known all along and the rest of the known galaxy was only now beginning to learn, was that the Salik fleet was a
lot
larger than anyone else knew, partly from mixing their forces.

Tentacled, ostrich-flippered soldiers served alongside mass-manufactured robotics, the latter crafted with at least five completely different programming systems. Orders were given verbally so that all could obey whatever Salik officer led them, but viral attacks that affected one type of robot did not necessarily disable the others, and the algorithms were swapped out every few days. Some worlds were even coming under attack by dangerous beasts bred to survive on a particular planet, to help the Salik in their quest to colonize as well as conquer them.

A hard explosion shook the
Hellfire
. Never a good sign in a starfight, this explosion shoved the ship slightly to the right. Red telltales flooded Ia’s upper screens, followed by distant
whunks
and a wailing, stuttering siren.

“Hull breach!” Private Nelson yelped. “Hull breach, fore section Decks 18 and 19! Ah…ah…section seals are strong, and inner seals
are
holding.”

Ia rolled the ship, sheltering the wound in its side.
“Helstead, turn left. You will see a service entrance to their Senate Hall,
and then—”

“—And then split off A Squad to hold the path to the shelter tunnels, and B Squad up two flights and turn left, to defend the Bright Speaker up in the broadcast booth. I remember, sir,”
Helstead told her.
“Alright, you mudding slackers, left face, move out! Puan, Franke, hold the rear but do
not
fire! We don’t want to draw any froggy-bot attentions our way!”

“Captain! Priority message from the Admiral-General,” Al-Aboudwa called out. “Putting it through.”

“Belay that,” Ia countered, most of her attention on turning the ship so that all three Salik carrier ships were on her port side, not the vulnerable starboard. “Inform the Admiral-General that we are in heavy combat and inform her that I say, quote, ‘I know, sir. There was nothing we could do for them. We could
only save the rest,’ end quote. Restate we are in combat, and cut the link.
L-pod 12, P-pod 14, abandon your pods. I repeat, abandon your pods. Retreat to Deck 5 immediately. All hands, prepare for another hull breach.
”

“O Captain, my Captain,” Rico stated calmly, “have I ever told you how much I hate it when you say things like that?”

“Get in line behind Harper. It’s his precious ship I’m blowing up.
L-pod 12, P-pod 14, this is
not
a drill.
Move
it!
” she barked into her headset.

“Harper to Ia,”
she heard in her left ear.
“What the
shakking hell
are you doing to my ship?”

“Captain, the daily bread is in the basket, and the security teams are forgiving us for our trespasses,”
Helstead reported in her right.

“Helstead, you make sure she transmits, whatever the cost. Harper,”
Ia added, switching channels, “
stuff it and start making repair plans.
Al-Aboudwa, prepare to retransmit the signal coming from the surface. All relays, all bandwidths, all stations and comm sets on board this ship. I want everyone to hear why we are
here
instead of anywhere else.”

“Aye, sir. Opening all channels,” he agreed.

Nothing happened for several seconds, then a voice spoke. The tone was lyrical, the pitch high and soft. It was a whisper. A murmur. A promise.

“I send/transmit in the hyper. I send/transmit in the light. I speak plainly/straightly so that each word, each meaning, will be treasured/grasped. Night has fallen, coating all we can see with the dull black of despair/death. The glow of our bodies has dimmed, our grip has weakened, and our foe listens with sharpened teeth for our last/dying breath. But I, but
we,
are
not
dead yet.”

The gentle voice sharpened, gaining strength.

“No limb can tear us down. No tooth can bring us death. These beasts wish to leap upon/destroy us, to drag us down/down/down, but they will
fail.
They are strong, but we are stronger. They are many, but we are legion. I send/transmit through the hyper. I send/transmit in the light. Every single being/body that faces these predators is my brother/sibling/kin! Native or alien, we who are sentient, we who are compassionate, we/we/we have more in common than these murderers/monsters.

“Grasp your spears/rocks/knives. Grasp your guns/ships/strengths. We will drop upon them from the highest stars! We shall stab them down, and fill our veins with the bitter reds of our rage, and when they bite…when they
bite,
they will choke/suffocate/perish on our fury, torn apart by our combined might!
”

Shouts and sizzling sounds came through in the background. Ia could hear Helstead barking orders to her teams, and an explosion that punctuated the Bright Speaker’s next words. Lasers struck the
Hellfire
, damaging more panels; she dodged them as best she could.

“I am not afraid!”
the Gatsugi speaker asserted.
“I transmit in the hyper, I transmit in the light, and I am
not not not
afraid! The hunters
will
be hunted. Stand on the branches by your choice/will/right. Climb for the strength to survive this war. Fight for your sentient brothers, and they
will
fight for you—when the easy prey has been shaken loose, their ceaseless/wasteful hunger will send them into the trees for those who think they are safe! Strike now! Strike/Strike/Strike
now,
and cut out the tendons of their ambitions. Shove
them
into the Room for the Dead, before they can shove
you
in and shut/lock/seal the door!

“Here I stand, surrounded by foes, but
defended
by friends. Gatsugi and alien. Why? Why would these Terrans come to our aid, when they themselves are hunted hard? They have a quote from a Bright Speaker of their own. It has changed words and changed hands many many many times, for it transcends mere words, and mere hands, and mere
species.”

A small explosion rocked the
Hellfire
’s shields. It was followed by a much larger one, skewing their flight and the stuttering siren of another hull breach.

“I say it now in my own words, sign it with my own hands! They came for the Solaricans, but I was not a Solarican, and I stayed high above as they perished. They came for the V’Dan, but I was no V’Dan, and did not look nor move. They came for the K’kattan, but my limbs were less, and I did not raise my spine…and the K’katta, too, died. But I know in my soul that they
are
coming for me. When will
I
fight for myself, and
how
can I fight for myself, if I will not also fight for the rest?

“I
am not afraid.
I
am not at rest. No ruler, no leader, no
Nestor can tell me what
I
know is right, and
I will fight.
I am a Bright Speaker because I speak the truth! I speak it until the universe itself listens. I send/send/send in the hyper. I send/send/send in the light. I demand an answer/response from you!
Will you fight?”

Silence followed the unseen speaker’s words. Al-Aboudwa licked his lips and murmured, “Transmission has ended, sir.”

“Open a broadband on the lightwave, Private,” Ia directed him, dodging another round of missiles.

“Aye, sir…Broadband ready.”

“Make no mistake. They will come for you, too,”
Ia said, thumbing open the channel.
“My Prophetic Stamp on that.”
She closed the link with a tap of her thumb and darted the ship between two of the Salik vessels, increasing their velocity. “Jumping in ten.”

“Jumping?” Fielle questioned, looking up and back from his screens. “But sir, Helstead and the rest…?”

“They’ll be alright,” Ia told him, activating one of the two undamaged OTL nose cones. It swung into position and pulsed a torus of energies. “We’re just going to reposition.”

Darting into the grey maw, they left the orbital space of the third planet. Not even a second later, the hyperrift spat them out somewhere beyond the seventh planet. The rift was still open behind them for a moment. Ia once again hit the thruster fields, accelerating them forward. One of the Salik vessels, tail-chasing them, came through the rift as well.

Or rather, most of it did. With its unmodified FTL fields for grease, it survived the collapse of the rift, but at a cost; damaged by the fight with the
Hellfire
, those shields prevented the wormhole from rifting their ship but didn’t prevent the forces from crumpling their stern. Silent explosions of energy and air escaped. Crippled, the enemy ship skewed off to port, its thruster fields abruptly unbalanced.

There had been a modest chance the enemy ship would be rifted and explode instead of merely being tail-nipped. No doubt the Salik on board considered themselves lucky. Ia intended to disabuse them of that idea.

Wrapping her ship in a vector-soothing bubble, Ia eased their acceleration and gently swapped ends.
Now
she could pulse the Godstrike cannon, and not worry about local space traffic for the next four months.
Now
she could whittle down
the others, and rout the Salik forces attempting to seize the Collective’s colonyworld.

The message had been sent; that was what was important. It had cost them a terrible price to be here, to help the alien poet speak so passionately for her kind. Only Ia knew it would be worth it. Just…not right away.

This was the part of being in command that no good officer liked. Ia was no exception. Dressed in formal Blacks, her cap on her head and her half glittery—Terran only—pinned to her jacket, she entered the bow mechsuit bay.

Private Tormez was the first one to spot her. Caught in the act of stripping out of her pressure-suit, the short, muscular woman snapped to Attention. Or tried to. She yanked her hand out of her half-tangled p-suit sleeve and snapped it to her brow in a salute. “All hands! Ship’s Captain on deck! Ten-hut!”

Her warning rippled through the bay. Wide-eyed, the other women and men struggled into Attention poses as best they could, some still in their mechsuits, some half-clothed in their pressure-suits or their uniforms. All of them saluted as she passed. Ia did not stop, though.

Her target was Private First Class Nicholaus Smitt, soldier, clerk, and field medic. He was still working on climbing out of his bulky halfmech, modified as it was to provide on-the-spot medical attention. Awkwardly, he freed his right hand and saluted her, eyes wide with wonder and worry when she stopped in front of his alcove.

“Sir?” he asked her.

Ia saluted him back. She kept her voice steady as she dropped her arm and relayed her news. “Private Smitt. It is my deepest regret to inform you that the domeworld colony on Seldun IV, System ISC 197, has fallen to the Salik advance.”

“No,”
he whispered, shaking his head.

Ia gave him a sympathetic look as she continued. “The colonists did evacuate many of the women and children, and your mother has survived, but your father and sister chose to stay behind and fight.”

“No,” Smitt asserted louder. “No. You’re a precog. You should’ve told them. You should’ve
known
. We should’ve been
there
!”

“I can say that it was relatively swift,” she continued calmly, quietly. “The colonial mayor rigged the entire chain of domes with explosives. They destroyed most of the invasion force and left very little for the enemy to salvage and use as a base of operations.”

“
No!
You should’ve
saved
them,” Smitt accused, tanned face wrinkling in rage. He pointed at her in accusation. “We should’ve
been
there!

“I’m sorry. We had to be here.”

“Sorry?”
he yelled, free hand balling into a fist.

Ia didn’t dodge. It connected painfully hard with the side of her face, rocking her sideways with the force of the blow. Sidestepping to catch her balance had an added benefit; it carried her out of range of a second punch, since his left arm was still caught in the workings of his suit.