In Her Name: The Last War (100 page)

Without another word, he launched himself at her.

* * *

Tesh-Dar was pleased with the human animal, that he had lost none of his fighting spirit since she had last seen him. He had also learned from their last encounter: he was much better at feinting, trying to conceal his true intentions from her as he attacked. 

She began sparring with him, careful not to injure him severely, again enjoying the thrill of single combat. She did not use any weapons other than her body, for she had no need. Nor did she wish the combat to be over too soon. She did not yet know if she would allow him to live as she had last time: much would depend on how well he fought.

So focused was she on the human that she failed to sense what was taking place far above, in space.

* * *

“They’re leaving!” the flag tactical officer reported excitedly. On the flag bridge display aboard Constellation, the swarm of red icons orbiting Saint Petersburg suddenly thinned. 

“Recall the cutter!” Hanson ordered. The ship had deployed its cutter to the limb of Riga, allowing its sensors to peer past the planet at Saint Petersburg while the human warships sheltered behind the planet, waiting for the right moment to strike.

“Aye, ma’am!” the communications officer reported. “The cutter is on its way. ETA three minutes.”

“Commodore,” Voroshilov’s image said on Hanson’s vidcom terminal, “you see the change in the enemy fleet’s disposition,
da?
”

“Yes, admiral,” she said. “It looks like our time has arrived. My ships are ready to jump on your command, sir, once our cutter is back aboard.”

“Do you have any questions about our strategy, commodore?” he asked.

“No, sir,” she said. “We make a micro-jump back to Saint Petersburg,” she continued, quickly recapping his instructions, “make a slashing pass against the enemy fleet, and then micro-jump away again before we can become decisively engaged.”

Voroshilov nodded. “Yes, commodore. Just so. Our opponents are not foolish, however,” he told her. “Do not be surprised if they attempt to follow us, for our exit point for the second jump will leave us in a position visible to them. I do not expect them to let us have a ‘free ride,’ as you might call it, again.”

“If they do, admiral,” she told him gravely, “we’ll be in serious trouble. The Kreelans have incredible navigation capabilities.” She remembered the reports of the return of the Aurora, the ship that had made first contact with the Kreelans. It had emerged from hyperspace within meters of Africa Station in orbit over Earth after the ship had been traveling in hyperspace for months. It should have been impossible, but it happened. “Even without having carefully mapped the space in this system for any perturbations as you have, if they want to jump after us, they will.”

“I am counting on it,” Voroshilov said with a cunning smile. “Our comrades on Saint Petersburg’s moon have not been idle in our absence, commodore. They have been launching a steady stream of mines to saturate the space surrounding the emergence point for our second jump.”

“Will our ships be safe?” Hanson asked. The last thing she needed was to jump into a mine field and have half her ships blown apart — by human-made mines.

“Yes, commodore,” Voroshilov reassured her. “The mines have been programmed to ignore your ships as well as ours. The Kreelan ships may get an unpleasant surprise, however. It is a trick we may use only once, but once might just be enough.”

“Very well, sir,” she told him. She glanced over at the flag captain, who gave her the thumbs-up sign as the status board indicated the cutter had been brought aboard and was secured. “We’re ready on your mark.”

“Stand by...” Voroshilov said tensely from the vidcom terminal. “In three...two...one...mark!”

As they had once before, the ships of the combined Confederation-Saint Petersburg fleet disappeared into hyperspace.

* * *

For a moment, no one on
Mauritania’s
flight deck could move as Valentina’s screams pierced their ears. Her eyes were open, her face completely slack except for her lips, which were parted wide as she screamed.

“Valentina!” Sikorsky cried, panic-stricken. “
Valentina!
” He reached for the interface cable, intent on pulling it away from her.

“Dmitri, no!” Ludmilla told him, grabbing his hands. “You must not!”

“I cannot let this happen,” he shouted, tears in his eyes. “I will not...”

“You promised her, Dmitri,” she told him, her face etched in anguish at the young woman’s torment. “You promised!”

“Nav systems are coming up!” Faraday suddenly shouted. “We don’t have any star charts, but we can get this fucker off the ground.” He tapped a few buttons on the console. “I’ve got control.”

Just then Valentina’s screams stopped, as if the last button Faraday had pushed turned them off. She simply lay slumped in the navigator’s seat, her eyes vacant, her body completely limp. Her mouth still hung open, as if she were still screaming.

“Is she dead?” Sikorsky asked.

The medic shook her head. “No,” she managed, her skin still crawling from seeing Valentina’s vacant expression as she’d screamed. “Her pulse and respiration are fast, but she’s alive. I don’t know how much of this she can take, though. I had no idea there would be this kind of psychological trauma.”

“She tried to warn us,” Sikorsky whispered, desperately holding Valentina’s hand. “May God forgive us.”

“Colonel!” Faraday called over the comm link. “We’re up! Get your asses on board and let’s get this tub off the ground!”

* * *

“Understood!” Grishin told Faraday, not daring to take his eyes off the drama that was playing out before him between Mills and the alien warrior. “Major Justin!” he called.

“Sir!”

“Start loading everyone aboard, as quickly as you can. Have Bravo Company of Third Battalion provide cover until the rest are aboard.” That company was actually more like a reinforced platoon in strength after it had been decimated by the Russian ambush when they’d landed, but it was in better shape than the other companies were. He hoped that the distraction Mills was providing would be enough to get most of his Marines aboard before the Kreelans started shooting again.

“What about Mills, sir?” Justin asked.

Grishin gave him a hard look. “Carry out your orders, major.”

“Yes, sir!” Justin nodded his understanding, then moved along the line of Marines, getting them moving toward the ship’s massive loading ramp.

* * *

She hasn’t lost her touch
, Mills conceded as the Kreelan warrior landed another blow. He had fought his fair share of men in both combat and in barroom brawls, and it amazed him how bloody
hard
she was. He expected that of her metal armor, of course, but the few blows he’d managed to land on her face or the parts of her body that were not protected by metal felt like he was hitting a granite boulder. And, when she hit him, it felt like he was being hit by one.

He had his combat knife, but was hesitant to use it. To this point, she seemed content to play by the same rules as their little engagement on Keran: fists and feet only, with her essentially toying with him for her alien pleasure. He was afraid that if he pulled out his knife, she might do the same. And the smallest bladed weapon he saw on her was nearly as long as his arm, which would put him at more than a slight disadvantage.

He ducked and just managed to avoid another open-handed strike she made to his face, then darted in and landed a hard right jab to her gut, just below her breastplate.
Bloody hell
, he thought,
how does someone get abs that hard?
She grunted from the blow, however, so he gave himself a brief mental pat on the back for at least hitting her hard enough for her to notice him, just before she brought a huge fist down on his shoulder, knocking him flat on the concrete tarmac. His head slammed into the unyielding surface, and he lay there, momentarily dazed.

He didn’t see Sabourin sprint from cover toward them, her knife drawn and a look of cold hatred on her face.

* * *

“
Enemy ships, close aboard!
” the flag tactical officer shouted as
Constellation
emerged into normal space from the fleet’s first micro-jump.

“All ships, commence firing!” Hanson ordered, her spine tingling with a dreadful mixture of excitement and fear as she checked the tactical display. All her ships had made it, and their formation, while not as good as the Russians, at least had all of her vessels pointing in the same direction. They had landed on top of the bulk of Kreelan ships that remained in Saint Petersburg space, and that now circled the planet in low orbit. The huge transports and most of their smaller consorts had left, although the human fleet was still considerably outgunned. 

Jesus, admiral, you cut it close,
she thought as a Kreelan warship —
Constellation’s
current target — showed on the view screen. Even with no magnification, the sleek shark-like shape nearly filled it. Her flagship’s main batteries went to continuous fire mode, pouring shells into the Kreelan warship at point-blank range. She heard the ship’s captain order the secondary and point defense weapons to fire, as well: it was a knife fight.

She watched as the lasers etched the enemy ship’s hull, vaporizing armor plate, just before the shells from the main guns hit. The Constellation’s gunners were spot on: a dozen flashes lit the enemy ship’s flank as the shells hit home, all of them concentrated amidships. In a spectacular flash, the enemy ship’s midsection exploded, her back broken, sending the remaining bow and stern sections tumbling in opposite directions, both of them streaming air and bodies behind.

The Kreelan ship had not fired a single shot in return.

A cheer went up from the ship’s bridge crew even as the captain called for a shift in targets, and the
Constellation
poured fire into yet another Kreelan warship that was only slightly further away.

“Prepare for jump!” Hanson ordered. This first part of their plan was only to get the Kreelans’ attention, to poke them with a sharp stick in hopes of getting them to follow after the humans as they fled. If they stayed here any longer, her ships would be gutted.

“Coordination signal from the flag!” her navigation officer called out. Voroshilov’s flag navigation officer was coordination with his counterpart on Constellation directly, while Voroshilov and Hanson concentrated on keeping their ships alive. Their level of trust had matured at least this far, their officers were cooperating directly as fellow professionals. It was difficult for Hanson to believe that she had originally been sent here to blow the Russians out of space.

“All ships, secure for jump!” she ordered in the din of
Constellation’s
continued firing. The ship rocked from several shells that hit almost simultaneously. The lights dimmed ominously for a moment and several electrical panels overloaded, sending sparks flying across the flag bridge.

“Jump execution...” the navigation officer called as the center of the human formation tracked exactly over the pre-designated jump point, “...
now!
”

The
Constellation
disappeared along with the rest of the human fleet as a hail of heavy shells passed through the space where she had just been.

* * *

Li’ara-Zhurah knelt quietly, her eyes fixed on the Messenger, her warriors formed around her in a protective circle. Perhaps they need not have done so, for there was certainly no threat from the human crew: they were all but finished. Only one of the handful on the command deck who had still been conscious when she had arrived remained so, a female warrior who was clearly near death. The others had already slumped lifelessly to the deck. 

She did not envy them the death that they faced. While they may have been soulless creatures in the eyes of the Empress and Her Children, Li’ara-Zhurah knew better than most of her sisters that the humans were worthy of respect. They had certainly earned hers during the attack against Keran. She would never understand their species or the peculiar things they did, like fighting among one another here in this system, even as Her warships descended upon them, but understanding was not required. In the end, there was only duty to serve Her honor and glory, for nothing else truly mattered. It had taken her a great deal of pain and much help from Tesh-Dar to fully understand that, but now it was a source of deep contentment.

She thought about the child she now carried in her womb, the song of its spirit strengthening hour by hour. Its melody was simple, yet strong: she would be a great warrior or clawless mistress one day, she knew, placing a hand reverently over her abdomen where she knew the child’s tiny heart had begun to beat. In time, the child’s song would grow as rich and complex as that of the countless others that flowed in the river of the Bloodsong of her race.

The Messenger’s body suddenly began to twitch, and she knew that the healing gel had run its course. Being treated with it was sometimes not a pleasant process, but her race had not suffered from disease for millennia, and virtually any injury short of destruction of the brain could be repaired, if She so willed it. His body suddenly convulsed, and the gel flowed from his mouth, out of his lungs. It had penetrated the various layers of his body, repairing the damage left behind by the radiation, or so she hoped, and at last had gathered in his lungs before exiting through the mouth.

She reverently took the gel, now laced with sickly yellow streaks, and placed it back in the tube, where it pulsed weakly. It could normally be reused after it had bonded with a healer, but this symbiont would never again know such a bonding. She would take it back with her, but it would perish long before they could return it to the Empire: treating radiation sickness was a terribly rare thing, and one of the few applications that for some reason sickened the symbionts. It was a great loss, for the healing gel was one of the most valued things in their civilization, but its sacrifice was for a worthy cause.

The Messenger lay back on the deck, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at her, his strangely-shaped eyes, narrower than most of the other humans she had seen, as if he were born squinting, then sat up to face her. She bowed her head low to honor him.