Alien vs. Predator: Armageddon, page 15
All that mattered was defending the Sol System. Charon Station, the main control center for the Colonial Marines. The inhabited planets and moons—Io, Europa, Mars, the moon, Phobos, Ganymede, and many others—with more than a billion inhabitants spread across a hundred orbital bodies. And Earth, the hub of humanity, bustling with more life now than it ever had before.
Perhaps they had left it too late.
That was Marshall’s fear, and he’d been surprised to see such terror in James Barclay’s eyes, too. When it was just the two of them, alone in his cabin though billions of miles apart.
“They’re here already,” Barclay had said, “and even the doomsday scenario might not save us all.” When the full Thirteen had convened, he had been as confident, as in control as ever, yet Marshall hadn’t been able to shake the fear he’d seen.
“I need to ask you a favor,” Marshall said. “I need a ship and a crew.”
“Really?” Bassett turned and glared at him. “Now?”
“Something fast.”
The General seemed to consider for a moment, frowning, looking into some middle distance that no one else could see. He’d lost his son to this war. Seen his Colonial Marines badly defeated in places, obliterated in others. Abruptly he grabbed Marshall’s arm and shoved him back toward the beginning of the platform.
“Keep streaming,” he said aloud, and a couple of heads turned their way, then back again.
If Marshall hadn’t walked, he’d have been dragged. The General was stronger than he looked, and probably far more dangerous than Marshall had ever given him credit for.
“It’s not—” he started to say, but Bassett grasped his arm tighter.
“Wait!”
They left the platform and the side wall opened up, revealing the entry to Bassett’s private rooms. Marshall had been in there a dozen times, but never like this. Never feeling as if he was in danger.
“Paul—”
“Doors!” the General snapped. They closed, and the two men stood in the silent, cool chamber. It felt empty and unused. The General probably hadn’t slept in days.
“It’s not what you think,” Marshall said.
“You’re running,” Bassett said. “Fucking coward. So where are you going, you and the rest of the fucking Company? Got a ship tucked away somewhere, I’ll bet. Ready to put yourself to sleep and blast out of the Sphere. Twenty years of warp drive and you’ll wake up to see what’s left.”
“No,” Marshall said. He was shocked that Bassett would think such a thing, but he supposed it was understandable. Marshall was a Company man, first and foremost, and the General had always known it. Whatever gentle dance they performed around each other, they could have never been friends.
Bassett reached up to make sure his microphone was switched off.
“This might be the end,” he said. His voice was low and tight, and everything about him changed in that instant. He went from tall and powerful to stooped and vulnerable in the blink of an eye. His face fell, his eyes glimmered. In the silence of the chamber, Marshall could hear the constant whispering in the General’s earpiece. He wondered what was being said.
“They’ve come too far,” Marshall admitted. “They’ll never take Sol, though. The system’s too heavily protected.”
“But what if they land them on Earth?” Bassett asked. “Those things. Those monsters. They’ll be unstoppable. It’s like no army we’ve ever confronted, or been trained to fight. It’s like… fighting ants with nukes.”
“Listen to me!” Marshall snapped, deeply troubled by the General’s sudden, unexpected display of weakness.
Bassett looked directly at him.
“I’m not running away,” Marshall said. “I need to get somewhere, quickly and safely.”
“Where?”
Marshall remained silent. He had been instructed to tell no one of his purpose. “Especially not that fucking soldier,” Barclay had said. But Barclay was a long way off. He and the rest of the Thirteen weren’t yet in danger, although it was closing in. They didn’t have their fingers on the pulse—that’s why Gerard had been sent.
They didn’t know Bassett like he hoped he did.
“There’s a place where I can shut down the drophole network,” he said. “I have the ability, and the codes.”
Bassett’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened, but it took a while for him to speak.
“You’re really going to do it?”
“I hope not,” Marshall responded. “Doomsday scenario, Paul. But I have to be there, and be ready.”
Bassett smiled. Then he laughed, soft and brief.
“Have you ever heard the phrase, shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted?”
“Yeah.”
“This is… different. Like dodging a bullet after you’ve already blown your brains out. What good will it do, shutting down the dropholes, if the Rage take the whole of the Sol System?”
“Fucking hell,” Marshall said. He stepped back and leaned against a bulkhead, shaking his head, struggling to compute that possibility.
“It might happen,” Bassett said. “I can’t guarantee that it won’t. They’re relentless. Brutal. Their tech is far superior to ours.”
“Yeah, and if it does happen, Earth is gone.” Marshall steadied himself. “The Colonial Marines are left leaderless and adrift. Sol System is infested with Xenomorph soldiers—every planet, every moon, every space station and habitat and ship. The Human Sphere has its head cut off, and without its head… it can’t think for itself. Not as it is, not as a whole. But if the Sphere fragments and becomes a vast congregation of human settlements, all of them at incomprehensible distances from one another, those distances will be our saving grace.”
Bassett shook his head. He still didn’t understand.
“If we shut down the dropholes, we halt their ability to expand,” Marshall said. “We abandon everywhere they’ve already taken.”
“Yet to get everywhere else will take years of travel,” Bassett countered. “It’s the end of humanity as we know it.”
“No, Paul,” Marshall said. “The end of the Sphere as we know it. The beginning of something else. It won’t even end the war, but we’ll stretch it out over decades, instead of losing it in months. In that time we’ll learn more about them, and be able to present better defenses. Even counterattacks.”
“And Weyland-Yutani will allow this?”
“Not as such,” Marshall said. This was where his request might stand or fall. Bassett was general because he knew the chain of command, and though he was a military man—first and foremost—he also knew who he served.
“Not you alone,” the General said.
“No. James Barclay and I consider this the only viable option. There are others in the Thirteen, too, but it’s not a Company decision. It’s those of us who have the ability to see it through.”
“Where is this place?” Bassett asked. “What will you need? What are the safeguards?”
“For that information, you and I need something I’m not sure we have.” He reached out a hand.
“What’s that?” the General asked.
Marshall grabbed Bassett’s right hand in his and squeezed hard. “Trust,” he said.
15
LILIYA
Drophole Gamma 117
December 2692 AD
Satan’s Savior came out of warp half a million miles from the drophole, the crew ready for a fight, the Tanns strapped into their seats, Liliya still pierced with wires and tubes from the experiments they’d been performing on her.
Hashori was the first to speak, in her language of clicks and groans.
“She needs to access communications,” Liliya said. The big Yautja looked even larger, squeezed into a human seat, wearing her helmet and grasping her battle spear as if ready for a one-on-one confrontation.
“Drophole ahead,” Millard announced, bringing up various views on the bridge’s holo screens.
“Defenses?” Captain Ware asked.
“Scanning,” Hoot said. He worked his control station with fluid grace, never still. “Three ships.”
“I must have communications!” Hashori said via the android.
“Not now, big girl,” Ware said. “Can’t you see we’re—”
Before she could finish, Hashori was already unstrapped and drifting across to Robo’s communications station, expertly managing the zero-G.
“Hoot?” Ware prompted. Then she glanced back at Liliya.
“I don’t know what’s wrong,” Liliya said.
“Don’t recognize the ships’s traces,” Hoot said. “Assume they’re Rage. Gamma 117’s central control was on a close-orbit station. It looks like it’s powerless, and stuck in an irregular elliptical orbit.”
“It’s been blasted,” Millard said.
“Ships have seen us,” Hoot said. “They’re swinging around.”
“All yours,” Ware said.
Hoot opened up with everything the Satan’s Savior had. The plan had been to drop out of warp and attack the moment they confirmed that the drophole was guarded by Rage ships, using surprise to their advantage. It appeared to Liliya, however, that these ships did not seem very surprised.
Satan’s Savior shuddered as a range of weapons opened fire. Laser blasts streaked across the space between them and the huge drophole. A plasma spurt followed, and six drones carved their own random paths across space. Explosions appeared on the holo screens, smaller detonations marking the Rage ships’ countermeasures.
“Now!” Hashori said, looming over Robo.
“Okay,” Ware said, and the crew member surrendered her comms unit to the big Yautja once again.
Liliya glanced to her right, at the Tanns. The husband and wife sat side by side, but did not look afraid. She supposed their expressions might have been resignation.
“A hit!” Hoot exclaimed. “It’s damaged and venting, but still functioning. The other two ships are coming right at us.”
“No way it could survive impacts like that,” Ware said.
“They’re shielded,” Liliya said. “Most of your munitions will ricochet away from them.”
“Ricochet this,” Hoot said, and another shattering burst of fire erupted toward the enemy vessels.
Without sitting Hashori connected to the communications point, the forearm panel of her battle suit open and flickering. She tilted her head to one side.
“Damaged ship’s toast,” Hoot said.
“They’re opening fire,” Ware said.
“Initiating avoidance measures.” Millard sent the ship into a pre-programmed series of ducks and dives, and the view from the ports spun and streaked as distant stars danced. They shook as a detonation erupted nearby, and several warnings chimed.
Liliya’s eyes were on Hashori. She was almost ignoring the battle, and for a Yautja that was extremely unusual. Though not a direct part of it, she should have been soaking up the action, thriving on the violence, and itching to join in herself. But there was something about her stance that made Liliya think they were in more trouble than they thought.
“Hashori?” she asked. The Yautja didn’t even acknowledge that she’d heard.
Another huge thump shoved the ship, sending it spinning. A red light burst across the bridge and was immediately extinguished. Somewhere out of sight, something hissed—atmosphere venting, gas escaping.
“Too fast!” Hoot said. “Our targeting computers can’t lock on and—”
“Everyone brace!” Ware said. “Millard, jump us past the hole, two light seconds, on my mark.”
“Hashori!” Liliya said again. A jump beyond light speed in these circumstances would deliver a heavy blow to anyone, let alone a Yautja no longer strapped into her seat. She glanced across at Liliya at the last moment, and her eyes had gone wide.
Something’s wrong, Liliya thought…
…and the Satan’s Savior jumped.
A rush, a thud, and her almost sense of humanity was left behind, struggling to catch up. Then Liliya opened her eyes again. Beside her the Tanns were gasping, Jiango wiping his mouth from where he’d vomited.
Hashori was crouched down beside the comms unit, holding on tight.
“Hoot!” Ware said.
Hoot opened fire again, the full array of their weaponry targeting the rear of one of the ships. Their jump had confused the enemy, and the ship was engulfed in a storm of laser blasts and plasma bursts.
It exploded in a rapidly expanding cloud of gas.
“Alexander is not dead,” Hashori said.
Liliya felt her android heart stutter, as if overloaded with energy.
“We saw his ship destroyed,” she said.
“He survived,” the Yautja insisted. “Took over one of my brethren’s vessels, and now he pursues us. Two Yautja also pursue him. He’ll be here—”
“Now!” Ware said. “Holy shit, Millard, didn’t you see that coming?”
Another ship appeared in the vicinity, a blue blur on the locational holo screen. It was closing rapidly.
“That’s a Yautja warship,” Hoot said.
“Take us out of here,” Jiango Tann said. “We can’t face both of them!”
“How far away are your pursuing ships?” Liliya asked.
“Too far behind to help. We are on our own,” Hashori told the crew. She stared at the blue smear that was closing on them.
Will he never, ever give up? Liliya had no idea how General Alexander could have survived the conflagration, but she had to trust Hashori’s claim.
“Okay,” Ware said, and for a second the captain seemed to hesitate.
I could give myself up, Liliya thought. The Tanns had taken as much information as they could from her blood, and perhaps with everything they knew, they could find some way to use the tech against the Rage. Maybe a way could be found to fight back.
There were no more reasons for her to flee.
“Don’t even think it,” Yvette Tann said beside her. Liliya stared at her. She hadn’t presented any of her thoughts outwardly. The older woman just smiled back. “It’s a human thing,” she said.
Liliya sighed deeply.
“I can help you fight the Yautja ship,” Hashori said. “I know the wavelength of its—”
A massive blast hit the Satan’s Savior. Hashori was blown from her feet, tossed around the bridge’s interior like a piece of loose equipment, her battle spear spinning and then piercing a bulkhead.
Someone screamed.
Liliya looked to her right and saw the Tanns pressed back in their seats, eyes closed and hands clasped.
Let no one else die because of me.
Her entire existence was tainted with countless deaths in her name.
But fate did not listen. Another explosion rattled through the ship, a compartment bulkhead blew out, and flames seared across the bridge, fueled by the high-pressure jet from a severed oxygen pipe. Millard screamed. His seat harness kept him in place as the flames played across his body, limbs waving, torso writhing as the seat melted and his combat suit burst beneath the heat.
The stink of burning flesh filled the cabin.
“No!” Hoot shouted. “Noooo!”
Maintenance drones came to life around the bridge, converging on the damage and extinguishing the fire. One of them caught the end of the severed pipe and sealed it, while three others went about performing a temporary repair to the tear in the bulkhead.
None of them approached Millard’s smoking corpse. It spat, molten fat still superheated. It dripped, but he was dead, so none of the drones recognized any need to waste time on his ruined body.
“Incoming!” Ware shouted. “Six objects, heading from one of the enemy ships. Hoot, take them out.”
“Weapons array is down.”
“All weapons?”
“Yeah.”
Hashori, bumped and bleeding, grabbed onto her spear where it had pierced the wall, and dragged herself upright.
“I can perform the dead one’s duties,” she said.
Ware hesitated for just an instant. “Do it,” she said.
“We need to get away from here,” Liliya said. “No more deaths. We’ll run, repair—”
“Impact in six,” Hoot said quietly, and an image appeared on a holo screen that made Liliya’s android blood run cold.
The things fired toward them across the space between ships weren’t drones, torpedos, or munitions of any kind. They were much, much worse.
“Hull status!” Ware snapped.
“Secure, no breaches,” Robo said. “We’ve suffered some interior damage, computer’s trying to patch through emergency repairs. We’ve lost weapons and…”
“And?”
“Drive control is offline.”
The bridge fell silent. Air whispered as environmental controls struggled to cope with the smoke and stench from Millard’s body. Liliya’s eyes kept flicking back to him, blackened and wet in his seat. Hashori stood beside him, spear in one hand, the other moving above his control desk.
“We’re crippled,” Ware said. “Until systems realign, we can’t go anywhere.”
“Look,” Robo said, pointing with her mechanical arm. “Lining up for the final shot.” On a holo screen, the two ships were drifting in closer, following parallel courses. The Rage vessel was almost circular, its surface uneven, and it seemed to spin slowly. The Yautja ship was sleek and powerful.
“No,” Liliya said. “He’ll want me alive.”
“Well, he won’t get you alive!” Ware said. She glared back, then her eyes softened. “We won’t let him. Everyone, arm up. Hoot, turn on the artificial gravity.”
With a whirr, they all found weight again. Someone groaned.
The crew stood, and started checking their combat suits and weaponry.
“What about us?” Jiango asked.
“Can you fight?” Ware asked.
“Of course,” Yvette said. “Anyone can fight, if they have to.”
Robo lobbed weapons over to them.
“And me,” Liliya said.
“Not you,” Ware said. “You don’t fight. You’re the bait.”
From elsewhere in the ship came the sound of something hammering on the hull.
