The Terran Gambit (Episode #1: The Pax Humana Saga) (30 page)

The Admiral’s voice rang out, nearly at a yell—the loudest he’d raised it so far. “Captain, before you do so, I’ll have you know I’ve given the order to shoot your friend. Do you hear me? Your friend will die unless—”

“Save it, Admiral. Save it for someone who cares. Mercer out.” He motioned to Ayala, who cut the channel.

A flashing section of her display caught Po’s eye. “Captain, the other ships are firing at us. All three of them.” As she spoke, the decking began rumbling and thrashing about. “I don’t know how much more of this we can take, Jake. Our hull is buckling, our life-support is—”

The comm crackled to life. “Bernoulli to bridge. Let her rip, friend!”

“Alessandro, you glorious bastard,” he muttered before shouting at the helmsman. “Ensign Tate, go!”

The young Ensign scrambled to make the shift. “Where to, sir?”

“Anywhere. Alpha Centauri. Barnard’s Star. Anywhere. Just GO!”

Several agonizing seconds later, during which they heard at least a dozen more explosions, the image on the viewport changed. Rather than three Imperial capital battleships raining down railgun fire, a red dwarf star shone brightly, almost eerily complacent. The ship rocked as secondary explosions continued throughout the outer hull.

“Ensign,” Jake began, “where are we?”

“Laland 21185, sir. I knew there was no settlement anywhere in the system. Thought it would give us a breather.”

Jake stepped forward and slapped the Ensign on the shoulder. “Good thinking, Tate.” He turned back to Po and let out a long sigh. Po noticed his shoulders seem to slump. “Now, let’s go see what we’ve lost. Megan, you’ve got the bridge. I’ll be in sick bay.”

10

P
O CLEARED HER THROAT
. “Captain, we’ve still got people fighting in the forward section.”

She noticed his eyes narrow, and he set his jaw. She didn’t envy his position. He’d still have to make decisions that day that would result in more deaths. She knew that would weigh on him. It would weigh on her—Po didn’t know if she could handle something like that. Goodness knows she handled plenty of death since she joined the Resistance, but she’d never been responsible for any of them. Except for the enemy’s, of course.

“How are they doing?” he asked, walking over to her tactical station.

“I’m counting thirty enemy troops still active. Ben’s got about twenty marines with him,” she looked closely at her screen, “and, apparently, Lieutenant Grace.”

“She sure gets around, doesn’t she?” He studied the readout. “Can we decompress the decks? Blast them out into space?”

Po shook her head. “Remember, sir, they’re already fighting in a decompressed space. Each time the enemy blasts through an emergency bulkhead, it sucks out the air until the next emergency bulkhead falls into place. It looks like our people have halted the advance, though.”

He pointed at Ensign Ayala. “See if you can patch me through to all ASA suit headsets down there.”

Ayala, the blood on her bleach white hair now dried and crusted over, hunched over her console and pressed a few buttons. “I think I’ve got them, sir.”

“Imperial marines, this is Captain Jacob Mercer. The
Phoenix
has now shifted to a safe location, far away from any Imperial installations. You are surrounded, outnumbered, and furthermore,” he paused, “I think you should know that while you were aboard my ship, the
Caligula
and other Imperial vessels began firing on the ship with the intent to destroy us.
With you aboard
,” he emphasized.

“I want to make it clear to each of you that you were nothing but pawns to Admiral Trajan. He was willing to piss away your lives in a vain attempt to stop our retreat. The
Phoenix
, on the other hand, welcomes your presence. We honor you, and salute you as fellow brothers in arms. And I promise you, on all that I hold dear, that if you lay down your arms, I will see that you are transported safely to whatever location you choose. On my honor.”

* * *

Ben swore. “What the hell is he thinking, offering them amnesty?” He glanced over at Anya, who shrugged, apparently as clueless as he. The Captain had just finished his speech to the enemy, and for the moment it hadn’t seemed to have any affect. Gunfire streamed down the hallway that Ben and his marines had holed up in while they figured out a strategy to advance.

“Bridge, this is Jemez. What’s going on Jake, why are we letting them give up? They’ve taken out a dozen good men already. We can’t just let them get away with that.”

Jake’s voice came over his headset loud and clear. “Ben, we’ve already won. We escaped, at least, and in my book, that’s a win. Let’s not ruin it by losing any more people. There’s been enough death today. On both sides.”

“But Mercer, we’ve got them pinned down. We can take them out. All of them. We can’t let them go off scott-free.” He wanted nothing less than death for every last one of the soldiers still firing at him. Death for every last one of those responsible for Sergeant Pearson, and for half the flight deck crew and pilots. And for Dallas, and his parents. He wanted blood.

“We can, Ben. We can, and we will. It’s time to move on and prepare for the next battle—don’t worry buddy, we’ll hit them where it hurts. But for now, we need peace. Half those kids down there are probably conscripts anyway. If it comes down to it, try to take out their commander, and maybe the fresh-faced recruits will change their minds. For now, though, stop firing and see if the Imperials follow suit.”

Ben didn’t like it. He thought back two hours ago to when he was momentarily in charge of the bridge, how he gave the surrender order. He’d done it to save all their hides, to at least let them fight another day. But then Jake had gone and somehow evaded Admiral Trajan, and now they finally had a chance against the last few that still fired at them. Why give up now? He motioned to Anya and the rest of the marines nearby to hold fire.

“Cease fire,” he said into his headset. He made sure it was on a channel that the imperials could hear. “Cease fire. All Resistance units cease fire. We’re offering a dialogue.”

Anya sidled up to him. Enemy assault rifle fire still blasted away in the hallway. “Is this a good idea? If we let our guard down, they could very well get up to the bridge or engineering or something, and then all those heroics were a waste.”

“Bad idea or no, the Captain ordered it. Stand down,” said Ben. “For now.”

Moments later the enemy fire ceased as well. Ben heard a crackle over his headset comm. “This is Sergeant Tomaga of the fifty-first storm brigades, to the commander of Resistance fighters. Meet me in the hallway of deck ten, section five for a parlay. Come unarmed.”

Ben glowered at Anya. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Unarmed?”

She shrugged. “Sounds like a trap to me.”

The headset crackled back on, this time with Jake’s voice. “Your call, Ben. Seems like it’s now or never to put an end to this thing and save a few lives.”

He’d studied for this moment his entire life. Trained under the most storied hand-to-hand and firearms experts in North America since he was a teenager. He was ready to lead this assault and finish the Imperials off. This was his chance to shine.

No. My chance to shine was back on the bridge, but now I’m down here holding an assault rifle.

Watson had tapped him to be the XO. He was sure the old man would have chosen Ben to command the
Phoenix
in his place. Absolutely sure of it. So what the hell was he doing down here commanding a bunch of grunts?

He checked the oxygen sensor, and, seeing that atmospheric pressure had been restored to the deck, he removed his helmet and rubbed his head. The effects of the concussion were starting to resurface, despite the drugs they’d given him in sickbay. His mind felt like a scattered puzzle, but he grit his teeth and tried to focus.

“Sergeant Tomaga, this is Lieutenant Commander Jemez, commanding the marine contingent you are currently engaged with. Agreed. No weapons. I’m just down the hall—I’ll meet you there in one minute. Jemez out.”

Anya removed her helmet and studied his face. “You want me to come with you?”

“No. He said come alone. Jake’s right. If we can end this thing now, we save lives.”

She let out a puff of air. “Yeah, their lives.”

“Yes. And maybe ours too.”

“Ben,” came Jake’s voice, “it looks like the auxiliary bulkheads have kicked in. You should have air now.”

“Acknowledged, Captain.” The word grated on his lips, but he swallowed his pride, momentarily at least, and took a step out into the hallway with his hands raised halfway into the air. He peered down the dimly lit hallway whose lights flickered with a particular foreboding—those that hadn’t been shot out, at least.

At any moment, Ben expected the enemy to burst out from their cover and shoot him up, but remarkably, the only movement at the end of the hallway was that of another man. An Imperial soldier, holding his hands up, mirroring Ben. Slowly, with great trepidation, Ben advanced.

The soldier took off his helmet, revealing the black haired, vaguely Japanese-looking face of Sergeant Tomaga. After a moment spent regarding Ben, he approached the intersection of two hallways that Ben had already reached.

“Sergeant,” said Ben.

“Commander,” said Tomaga.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Neither did I.”

Ben tried to keep any emotion, and expression off his face. Try to hold all the cards, he told himself. “I’m glad you did. You heard the Captain. We’re offering safe passage back to whatever world you see fit. No conditions.”

“Those terms are not agreeable to us,” Tomaga said, his eyes inscrutable.

Uh oh. Ben took a step backward.

“I’m afraid those are the only terms we can offer. Other than to return back to our cover and resume firing at one another.”

Tomaga’s face was like a steel deck plate, revealing nothing that moved behind it. “I propose an alternate path, Commander. If we return to the Empire, our lives are forfeit, as the Admiral will suspect treachery on our part. Who would believe that the bloodthirsty Earth Resistance had simply let a squad of brave Imperial marines just walk away? For now, our paths are aligned. We will remain aboard your ship, until we can arrange a more suitable destination, and until we can be assured our families will not face reprisal.”

Ben’s mouth hung open momentarily, before he had the mind to close it. “So you’re saying you’re going to join us? At least until you find somewhere to hide from the Empire?” It sounded suspicious, to say the least.

“Join you? Not exactly. But we will at least not fight you, and those of our ranks who wish to join you may do so. Nearly all of our men are conscripted soldiers, Commander, who would rather be back home with their families. If what your Captain says is true, and the
Caligula
opened fire on your ship while we were still aboard, then I say, to hell with them.”

Ben stoically maintained his steely expression. It sounded too good to be true. Just moments ago, the soldiers were all in a frenzy, charging and firing at his men, and now, all of the sudden, they were declaring themselves personas non grata of the Empire? His eyes narrowed in a suspicious gaze.

“How can I trust you, Sergeant?”

Sergeant Tomaga’s face didn’t betray any of his thoughts. “How can I trust you, Commander? If we lay down our arms, how can I trust that you won’t execute us, or return us to the next Empire world you stop at?”

The man had a point. Neither of them could trust each other, and yet both had to, if they wanted their men to live. What would Captain Watson have said? The temptation to rub his pounding head was almost overwhelming.

“Very well, Sergeant. I give you my word that your men will be left alone. We will assign them quarters, and will give them free access to the galley, and to the common areas for entertainment and such. But they will relinquish their weapons, their comm devices, and their uniforms. In return, we will work with you to find a place to take you that is satisfactory to you and your men. Agreed?”

The barest hint of a smile pulled at Tomaga’s stoic lips. “Agreed, Commander.” He turned around. “Fifty-first storm brigade! Lay down your arms and present yourselves. Move! We are not surrendering, and will not be harmed, but make no provocative actions or you will answer to me.”

Slowly, the soldiers holed up in the various rooms scattered down the hall began to poke their heads out of the doors, looking to make sure there were no guns aimed at them. Ben tapped his comm. “
Phoenix
security teams, stand down. Be prepared to collect weapons and escort the fifty-first brigade to …” he trailed off, unsure of their immediate destination.

“To the common area on deck twenty, aft of engineering,” said Po, her voice sounding out from the speaker on his ASA suit. “Sergeant, the Captain welcomes you aboard. And Ben,” she continued, with a smile in her voice, “congratulations.”

* * *

Captain Jacob Mercer peered through the glass wall of the surgical unit in sickbay, marveling that the thing had stayed intact during the battle. He watched as Doc Nichols, in white and assisted by a nurse, worked frantically on an ensign from engineering. Jake didn’t even know the man’s name. He’d sent the boy there. An order of Jake’s had sent that kid flying down an emergency hatch and ruptured half a dozen of his organs.

He didn’t know if he could live with this. The ensign from engineering, the dozen souls that perished in the forward section as the
Phoenix
smashed into the
Caligula
. The dozens of injuries and fatalities that happened during the ensuing bombardment and firefight. The fighter deck crew. The pilots. Even the galley crew hadn’t been spared from the carnage of that day.

All told, as Jake scrolled down the list of dead and the times of their deaths, he could ascribe well over half those deaths to himself. Eighty-six. Eighty-six people died after he looked Ben Jemez in the eye and told him the Captain had not chosen him to take command, but had chosen Jake instead. Eighty-six people since he’d told the biggest lie of his life.