Lacuna: The Ashes of Humanity (11 page)

"Butcher, Jazz—target confirmed as hostile, designation Bandit One. Weapons free. Tally!" The beeping of his missile lock turned into a solid tone, and he depressed the trigger. "Fox three, missile away."

His whole ship shuddered as the AIM-124b missile leapt away from its railing, leaving a thin trail of smoke as it raced ahead of him. He twisted his craft, jerking the control column violently as he dodged further incoming fire.

"Jazz, Butcher. Fox three."

Time passed. The distances involved were far too large to be covered in moments, but as the minutes ticked away, the incoming fire—reacting far too slowly to strike his manoeuvring, nimble aircraft at those distances—suddenly stopped, instead missing him by a significant margin.

Bandit One had seen the danger. They gave up on him and targeted their missiles. The devices cross sections were tiny, and it would take a miracle for them to strike it, but Jazz did not want to take that chance. He had missiles; might as well use them. "Fox three, fox three, fox three. Ripple fire, three missiles away. Empty your racks, Predator; we can't let that ship escape."

"Roger."

The swarm of missiles from Predator's ship, along with his own, flew towards Bandit One. They were hurtling towards it far too quickly to decelerate, and despite the bandit's frantic jerk to one side at the last minute the radar signals of his missiles merged with that of the target, then Predator's followed suit immediately after.

He flew past it, so fast that the enemy ship was just a blur on the black background of space, then spun his ship around and began decelerating. Jazz, fighting the inertia that dragged his arms back to his seat, touched his screen and activated the high-speed gun camera.

A Toralii scout ship, identical to the one the
Beijing
had engaged and destroyed on its maiden voyage. The ship was damaged from their attack. Blackened, scorched holes in the Toralii vessel's hull were venting debris and atmosphere, and his radar indicated that the vessel was slowly spinning.
 

It took some time for them to decelerate, approach the Lagrange point at a slower speed, then finally draw close enough to the enemy ship that he could see it with his own eyes. Adrift, spinning slowly in a field of debris.

"I think we got it," he said.

"Nice shooting," said Hoffman. "I can see secondary explosions on my long range optics."

Almost as though on cue, his radio crackled.

["This is the Toralii Alliance scout vessel
Sann'dahar
. We found you, Humans. We found you, and you won't escape."]

His Toralii was imperfect at best, but he could make out their words well enough. The hard part would be talking back. It was unlikely the Toralii on that ship would know English.

Standard procedure was to board and capture any hostile ships smaller than cruisers. Although Jazz was tempted to blast the ship until nothing was left, protocol hadn't been updated since the attack on Earth. Nobody had time for that. So procedure it was.

"Toralii Alliance vessel
Sann'dahar
, stand by and prepare to be boarded."

The Broadsword
Warsong
jumped into the L2 Lagrange point, appearing with a white flash that blew away the faint cloud of debris lingering inside the point in space. Predator and Jazz formed up on their wing, guiding their ship towards the stricken enemy vessel.

The
Switchblade
had escaped. Butcher and Jigsaw arrived as they were approaching the wreck, the alien vessel still leaking atmosphere. Its guns were silent, its hull battered and scorched, but the four strike craft were ready with guns and missiles should it reactivate.

The dragon was battered, but as long as air filled its lungs, its fire would still burn them to ashes.

"Jazz,
Warsong
. We're docking."

"Confirmed,
Warsong
. Butcher, Jigsaw, Predator, standard four-point security pattern, guns inward. It could be a trap."

The four Wasps, just like their namesakes, buzzed around the target as the Broadsword latched onto the side of the spinning wreck. Sparks flew as it began cutting its way into the Toralii hull, creating a wide shower of hot metal that slowly cooled as it radiated out into space.

"Jazz,
Warsong
. The insertion process is taking longer than we anticipated; the hull is tougher than previously predicted. Maintain cover and prepare to engage if those systems reactivate. The Toralii vessel cannot be allowed to escape. Failure is not an option."

"Confirmed,
Warsong
. We got your back."

He had no more missiles left, and at this range, it would have to be guns anyway. Jazz kept his finger on the trigger as his ship continued to circle their target, looking for weak points in their defences. Missiles might be able to damage it, but his guns were significantly less effective.

Still, he had little other choice.
Warsong
's commander's words were accurate, but they grated on him. He couldn't stand it when people said, "Failure is not an option."

Failure had never been an option. Failure was an outcome. A very probable outcome for most of the people who said that.

The shower of sparks faded abruptly.

"Jazz,
Warsong
. Inserting marines."

"Good. Tell them good hunting from us."

Both ships were silent, seen across the void of space, but the interior would be anything but. Jazz changed frequency to the standard one used by TFR marines, punching in the encryption codes.
 

"Contact, deck two. Engaging."

"Six-two, we got resistance here. We're pinned down in section eight."

"Six-three, four tangos eliminated."

"Go to thermal. Watch your corners."

"Six-one, frag out."

The crackle of gunfire, the pounding of explosions, and the shouts of alarm and warning flew back and forth. It was a flowing wave of information, coming and going, the battle impossible to follow from his vantage point. All he could do was imagine it. Human boots pounding on Toralii decks, throwing grenades, engaging the Toralii.

"Man down."

Dying.

The Toralii were putting up a spirited fight. More gunshots came through on comms, although they finally abated.

"
Warsong
, this is Cheung. Their Operations centre is ours. We have eight prisoners, along with the ship, which is adrift but appears salvageable. Sixteen tangos confirmed destroyed, one casualty. Petty Officer Shào is KIA."

Relief. He was less sure about taking some prisoners, but the marines had their orders.

"Jazz,
Warsong
. We're going to tow the Toralii vessel to the
Madrid
, request an escort in."

"Confirmed,
Warsong
. I'll follow you in myself, along with my wingman." He changed channels. "Predator, we're following
Warsong
and the captured bird back to the
Madrid
. Butcher, Jigsaw, maintain the CAP. I'll see you all back on deck."

They confirmed his orders and then Jazz swung his fighter's nose around, forming up near the Broadsword and following it as it towed its prey towards Velsharn.

The pace they made was so slow that, after several hours, the
Madrid
came to meet them. It was a risk, but it would have taken too long otherwise. The Broadsword
Warsong
pushed the captured Toralii frigate out towards the much larger Human ship, and as they drew close, Jazz could not fight a strange sense of satisfaction.

Against the Toralii it was rarer that Humans had the bigger, stronger ship.

The
Madrid
's autocannons followed the Toralii ship as the
Warsong
pushed it into the hangar bay, momentarily disappearing from view. He waited, and then the
Warsong
returned, minus its prey.

He didn't know what the fates of the Toralii prisoners would be, nor did he much care to.

"Mission complete," he said, patching in his communications to Predator and the
Warsong
. "Let's head back to the
Beijing
."

Liao had never been on another Pillar with any kind of emergency state. She always knew where to go on her own ship, but here she had no clear duty post. She was a visitor.

After a moment's hesitation, though, realisation dawned.

She was supposed to go with the civilians.

It was what she was supposed to do, but that thought rankled her. Not that she had anything against civilians or thought she was above them, but it seemed a waste of her time. There must be something more productive she could do.

So Liao headed back to the airlock, to the Broadsword that brought her here, managing to get up the loading ramp right as the hangar bay was decompressing. She made her way up to the cockpit, pulling open the heavy metal door that sealed that area off from the rest of the craft, and rested her hand on the back of the pilot's headrest.

"I want to know what's happening out there," she said, and the pilot handed over his headset.

The
Switchblade
had returned. More urgently, the CAP had engaged a Toralii ship; with the aid of the
Beijing
's marines, they now owned that ship.

She was, in a way, halfway between her life after the court martial—a civilian out of touch with everything—and her life before the destruction of Earth, once more in charge of a powerful warship, privy to events as they unfurled. She could hear, but not affect, the events around her.

The captured ship would be deposited in their hangar bay in two hours. Normally she would not wait around for such a thing, but something about the situation compelled her to stay. She requested the Broadsword hold position for her, something the crew was happy to do. She let Kamal know she would be late, and then she waited.

The doors to the
Madrid
's hangar bay opened, and the
Warsong
unceremoniously dropped the Toralii frigate into the hangar bay. It barely fit. The hull was scorched and holed, and the alien ship's metal plating exposed decompressed sections, battle scarred and warped from explosions.

When the bay was re-pressurised, Liao went out to see the prisoners. Eight of them, their wrists cuffed behind their bodies with heavy steel chains, led by her marines.

She approached the first one, a white-furred Toralii whose face was covered in scars. They all still wore their armoured space suits, and this one, by her markings, was the commander. Their prisoner wore no translating earpiece, but as she approached, the Toralii seemed to recognise her.

["Commander Liao."]

Liao nodded. Speaking was pointless until the translators arrived with their tablets and technology.

["Your worlds burn, insect. Just as you broke Kor'Vakkar, we have broken your entire species."] Her lip curled back in a vicious snarl. ["I saw it, I shall have you know. Earth. I watched it burn. This ship was one of the many who reported the location of the most inhabited areas. We gave the targeting information to our cruisers. We were the eyes that guided the spears that pierced the heart of your people."]

She nodded again. Her prisoner gestured around at the metal hull of the
Madrid
.

["You cower behind the Telvan. They are weak. They cannot protect you. This world will be discovered. More of us will come, when our ship's absence is noted. Avaran will have your head as he promised, and just as he said, you will die last."]

That had been Aravan's threat to her. That he would drag her to his bridge in chains, make her watch as he killed every Human that existed and then kill her too.

Liao blinked rapidly, the Toralii equivalent of a shrug.

["Mock me as you wish, Human. Torture me. Kill me. I care not. More will come; we will
never
stop until all of your wretched species is dust. None defy my people as you have done and escape without paying the price."]

She wanted to shoot the Toralii female dead. She wanted to line their prisoners up and, one by one, put a bullet between their eyes. Make her watch, as Avaran had threatened to do to her. The threats people used against you were often the things they, themselves, feared. She would break this Toralii commander, vent her rage and the injustices of her people, burned to ashes on Earth's roiling, charred surface.