Resolute Omnibus (The War for Terra) Read online

  His crew was in pieces around the pit. The walkway that bisected the room had been cleaved and torn through like paper. Fire seemed to be coming from every console and the smoke stung his eyes.

  “Raynor,” he called. “Raynor!”

  He crawled to the edge of the pit only to see his second in command and friend on his back, staring lifelessly at the ceiling. There was a charred hole through his chest that Hathaway could see through to the deck.

  “Engineering!” he cried out, hoping someone still survived.

  “Sir,” a voice cried out to his right. “We’re here!”

  “Can we still make the jump?”

  There was a pause and the sound of someone cursing at burning machinery.

  “Yeah,” replied the voice through the smoke. “I mean, yes sir. I don’t know how, but the jump engines are still online.”

  “Open the jump. Slave the other ships in and get us the hell out of here!” ordered Hathaway. He looked back at the face of his friend, desperation and sadness mixing in his chest like a weight pressing down on him. He may have lost the battle, but he swore by all that he held holy that he would win the war.

  1

  Now

  Lee Pearce hated the way his boots clacked on the worn carpet outside the door to his quarters, like a small firecracker in the empty hallway. He hated that the rubber coating over the magnetic strips on his boots had worn away in the last three years without being replaced. He hated the way the carpet was worn in a pattern leading almost exclusively from his door down the hall towards the lift doors at the end. Mostly, he hated that the hall was empty.

  The Terran Princess was supposed to have a crew of close to three thousand with a passenger list of over six thousand. At four hundred twenty meters long, she was supposed to be one of the largest cruise liners in the service of the Confederation.

  At least, Lee thought, if there was still a Confederation.

  The bitter thought crossed his mind again unwillingly. He took a deep breath to calm the sudden rage within him and started down the hall again to the lift doors. The emptiness of the hall reflected the emptiness of his soul. He thought about the losses that humans had endured in the last few years and how much he missed solid ground. He had been on the ship for three years and watched as its passengers and crew dwindled due to despair and fear. There were barely three thousand left on board the civilian luxury craft.

  He followed the worn path in the carpet as it veered from the center of the hallway towards a panel near the end. He raised his right hand to a sconce on the wall and twisted a small knob at the base. The wall panel, which was a cool copper color, seemed to disappear as the image of the emptiness outside the ship appeared along the long wall.

  Lee stared out to the stars that surrounded the Princess and tried to see if he could spot Earth’s system. He knew that the wall was just a projection. The Terran Princess was double-hulled, so a window would only look across the acceleration gel-filled space to the outer hull. Instead, a projection of the space outside the ship was supposed to give the illusion of a window, with a panoramic flair to entertain the tourists.

  Lee recognized a few star clusters and realized the ship was facing the wrong way for him to see humanity’s lost home. This ship, as far as he knew, was the last holdout of a vast fleet of vessels that had controlled a section of the Milky Way. Now the Confederation was dust and Earth was ruled by an invading species that had been born under a star far distant from Sol.

  Lee twisted the knob and stepped away from the wall and turned back to the lift doors. Once bright and gilded, the doors to the lift pod were worn and tired. A lack of maintenance turned the quiet whisper of the lift doors into a harsh sigh that seemed to echo the mood of the remaining passengers on the ship.

  Lee stepped into the lift and pressed the code for the bridge. The lift moved horizontally with a perceptible bump. Lee made a mental note to ask the captain to have a maintenance crew examine the lift system. Inertia in the lift could be fatal if left unchecked. The pod slowed and changed to a vertical movement.

  Lee straightened his uniform jacket and brushed away dust from his rank bars. He understood that the military in which he had served as a pilot and commander no longer existed, but he continued to wear his uniform out of habit and a dislike of the tacky clothes the ship still carried in its gift shops and shopping plazas. His gray-green shirt and dark brown trousers suited him, and the rank bars comforted him when he began to feel that despair.

  The lift began to move horizontally again, signaling Lee that the bridge would reveal itself momentarily. Even though the ship was a civilian craft, Lee still respected the chain of command enough to straighten his back before meeting with the captain.

  The doors opened on to the starboard side of the wide bridge deck. Lee stepped out onto the lower level and headed for the ramp up to the command bridge. The arc of the lower bridge spread out below him as he stepped up to the metal safety railing of the upper deck. The royal blue carpeting of the lower level cushioned against the white computer panels that rose from the floor. The stations that normally would have been fully manned on a cruise were dark and quiet. To conserve power, only the engineering and communications panels were still operational. Of those, only the engineering console was being manned.

  “Mr. Stone,” Lee called down to the lone crewman. “How are we doing?”

  The young engineer looked up, startled at the sound of another human being. Lee thought he might have dropped whatever he was holding, as if in imitation of some old movie. Instead, he stood too quickly, nearly toppling his chair.

  “Commander!” stammered Curtis Stone. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Lee smiled down to the younger man. He liked the man and wondered what he might have become had their lives not become so complicated.

  “Next time I’ll knock,” Lee replied. “How is our power?”

  Stone looked back at his console to the numbers scrolling across the screen. Several indicators were blinking a deep green color, but others were shining a dull red.

  “Main power looks good, but we’re still having trouble recharging the jump engine,” said the engineer. “I think the relays finally shorted out on the aft solar array.”

  Lee pursed his lips in a look of concentration. The ship was not meant to be in deep space for such an extended length of time. It needed a complete overhaul of all of its systems. It was a wonder that engineers like Stone had kept the ship moving from place to place at all over the years. The stresses of running from their enemies were finally starting to break down the ship and its crew.

  “Well,” said Lee. “I’ll tell the captain.”

  He turned toward the clear plasteel wall that separated the captain’s office from the rest of the upper deck. He could count the number of times in the last three years that he had seen the captain sitting in his command chair on one hand. The man just didn’t seem to have the desire to command anymore. Lee turned back and leaned over the rail to shout down to Stone.

  “Better get your suit ready,” he said.

  The young man’s face turned a pale green color almost instantly. Lee knew that Stone hated zero-g repairs, and was kept on the bridge primarily to keep the inside of the suits clean. The last time he had been ordered to go outside the ship, it had taken weeks to scrub the smell of vomit out of that suit.

  Lee walked to the door of the captain’s office. He knocked when he saw the man had his back to the door. A hand appeared from behind the chair, pressing a button on the desk, causing the door to slide open. Lee stepped into the cool cocoon of the office.

  “Captain Ortiz?” Lee asked towards the back of the man’s chair.

  “Commander Pearce,” replied the chair.

  Lee stood still and waited for the older man to turn around. When he did, he saw that the man looked exhausted. He had retired from military service about a decade ago to the quiet life of a cruise ship captain, only to have his entire life ripped away during the invasio
n. Pearce knew that Ortiz had had a family, wife, children and grandchildren, back on Earth. He knew, also, that they were all dead.

  “Commander Pearce,” repeated the captain. “What brings you to the bridge on this fine morning?”

  Lee stood and collected his thoughts for a moment. This was almost the same conversation that he’d had with the man once a week for the last three years.

  “Reporting in, sir, as per regulations,” said Lee. “Also, Stone wanted me to tell you that the aft solar relays need to be replaced.”

  Ortiz looked at the younger man for a moment. He drew in a long, slow breath and steepled his fingers above his desk. The man’s dark brown eyes seemed to look beyond Pearce at something outside the office. His black hair was now liberally whitened with age.

  “Commander, you do realize that I am not your commanding officer.”

  “Yes sir,” replied Lee

  “And you also realize that the military regulations that order you to report to the highest ranking civilian command no longer exist.”

  “Yes sir,” repeated Lee.

  “And you also realize that there is absolutely nothing for me to do with you.”

  “Yes sir,” said Lee. “I do.”

  “Then why do you persist in coming up here to report to me every week?” the captain asked.

  “Sir, it is to enjoy the company of your sparkling personality,” said Lee, with no trace of humor in his voice.

  Captain Ortiz stared at Lee for two beats, then a smile cracked his lined face. A laugh that reminded Pearce of two rocks scraping together erupted from the older man.

  “You, Commander, are a smartass,” said the captain.

  “Yes sir,” said Pearce, a smile crossing his lips as well.

  The two men enjoyed the moment of levity with each other before they looked back to each other.

  “What did you say to Stone about the relay?” Ortiz asked.

  “I told him to get his suit ready,” replied Lee.

  “Oh God,” said the captain, rubbing his broad forehead. “I’ll call the cleaning crew now.”

  The captain had begun to reach halfheartedly for the communications button on his desk when it lit up, startling both men. Ortiz looked at Pearce, his expression suddenly very serious. He tapped the comm button.

  “This is the captain,” he barked.

  “Captain, this is Mr. Stone,” said the voice from the desk panel. “Sir, you had better come out here.”

  “What is it, Mr. Stone?”

  “Sir,” said the young man, an edge of panic in his voice. “Sir, a jump point has opened twenty degrees off our starboard bow.”

  2

  As both men raced from the captain’s office, Pearce could see that Stone had already begun powering up the main front display. Although the ship’s bridge was one of the only places on the ship with a real panoramic window, in the darkness of space it was nearly useless. The forward view screen was overlaid onto the window, and amplified the outside space for the bridge crew to see.

  Captain Ortiz stepped onto the upper bridge deck and around to his command chair. He pressed a button on the armrest, all the while staring out through the view screen at what seemed to be empty space.

  “This is the captain,” began Ortiz. “All Alpha Shift bridge crew members return to your stations immediately. This is not a drill. Passengers are to make their way towards the inner sections of the ship for your safety. That is all.”

  Pearce had bolted down the port ramp to where Stone was frantically trying to call up information on the ship’s sensor panel. The ship had an extensive series of navigational sensors, but while stationary they were turned off to conserve precious power. The panel flickered to life and began feeding information to the main viewer.

  An enhanced view of the starboard side of the ship appeared on the panoramic window. A small, bluish smudge began to form, swirling and growing in intensity as the sensors refined their resolution. It grew steadily, brightening to a fiery red whirlpool.

  “It’s coming through now, Captain,” said Stone in a shaky voice.

  On the window, a fireball erupted from the whirlpool, looking like an incendiary bullet fired from the nothing of space. The fireball seemed to careen out of control for a few seconds before shedding its corona and resolving into a beetle-like ship that tumbled as it slowed.

  Pearce had activated the ship’s defensive shielding as soon as the panel came back to life. The shields were not meant for combat, but would shield the Princess from accidental hits from aggressors. He stared at the new ship and tried to identify the strange shape. It was not of human design, he knew, but did not seem like a warship to him. He noticed the reaction thrusters fire on the small ship as it attempted to orient itself and stop the tumble.

  “Sirs,” announced Stone, “there are more ships coming through!”

  All three men looked back at the swirling vortex as three smaller ships erupted from it. They were all wrapped in heat dissipation coronas, like the other ship, but were not tumbling. They appeared to be on a straight pursuit course for the first ship. As they shed their fiery shroud, Pearce was shocked as he identified their type.

  “Fighters,” he said aloud. A small thrill of fear ran through his veins as he looked at the small but powerful ships. Like the first ship, they looked vaguely beetle-like, but were much smaller and bristling with deadly intent.

  Pearce was momentarily startled as the rear doors to the bridge that led to the crew ready rooms slid open and Communications Officer Kama Yu rushed to her station. The lithe Asian woman was a serious professional who immediately began recording the encounter on her panel.

  On the upper deck, Captain Ortiz had activated the holographic display along the rail in front of his command chair. It showed him the displays from every panel below.

  “Mr. Stone,” ordered the captain. “Withdraw the solar panels and button up the ship.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Stone’s hands flew across his console, in the process of withdrawing the panels that were charging the batteries that ran the life support systems. The Terran Princess had parked itself near a main sequence star to refill its power reserves. Panels began to close along her sleek four hundred plus meter hull, effectively slimming her profile and hardening her hull against impact.

  “Sir,” announced Yu, “I am receiving a distress signal from the … uh … bigger beetle.”

  Ortiz glanced over at Pearce to his right. The two men exchanged worried looks as Yu waited for a response.

  “What language is the signal in, Kama?” the captain asked.

  The chief communications officer listened to the receiver she had placed in her ear for a moment before turning and looking up at Ortiz.

  She looked confused. “It’s in Earth standard, sir, but … the carrier frequency is Ch’Tauk!”

  Pearce stepped aside as the ship’s defensive officer came from the rear doorway and took his position. Other officers had arrived and manned their stations in a sobering silence.

  Pearce took the ramp back up to the command deck. There was no first officer on board. She had succumbed to panic about a year after the Ch’Tauk had invaded Earth and set out in a stolen passenger shuttle, never to be heard from again. He stepped up to the captain’s side and looked over the holographic display.

  “Put the signal on my center screen,” ordered the captain.

  The main display panel vanished in a crackle of static and resolved into the image of a woman with dark hair and an olive complexion. She had a dark bruise over her left eye and blood on the collar of her gray tunic. There was smoke in the cabin behind her and lights flashing green. She looked back at them with panicked eyes.

  “Ahoy, ship,” she began. “This is a Ch’Tauk prisoner transport. We are human. We have taken possession of this ship, but are under attack. Can you render assistance?”

  The captain looked up at Pearce with a bewildered expression. The old man’s eyes betrayed his concern that the message was
some kind of trap. Pearce looked back with concern as well.

  “Please,” said the woman on the screen. “You have to help us. There are seventy of us altogether. Can you help us?”

  “Kama, split-screen with the transport and enhance the image,” ordered the captain.

  The woman’s image shifted aside as the transport reappeared on the view screen. The three fighters had accelerated and were closing in on the larger ship. The transport flared into sharp definition as Kama carried out her captain’s orders. It looked as if it had sustained major damage; many of its concentric plates had dark scoring from explosive attacks.

  “What do you think, Commander?” Ortiz asked.

  Ortiz watched the scene in space in front of them and then looked back at the woman who was obviously afraid for her life.

  “You got me, Captain. It’s your call.”

  The captain, too, looked back to the image of the woman who now appeared to be yelling at someone off screen. The transport ship looked as if it were about to shake itself apart behind the woman.

  “Open a channel, Kama,” ordered Ortiz.

  The image brightened to indicate that it was now two-way. The woman looked back quickly to her screen.

  “Transport ship, this is the passenger liner Terran Princess. We are an unarmed vessel. How may we assist?” the captain asked.

  “Oh for the love of God, you’re a cruise ship!” the woman exclaimed. “We are in need of a goddamn battleship, Princess, not a cruise ship.”

  Without wanting to, Pearce smiled to himself. He had to admit, it was probably not what they were hoping for in a rescue, and the name of the cruise liner didn’t exactly help. He leaned forward to speak to the woman on the screen.

  “We may be able to help you yet, transport. Can you tell us how you got out here?”