Stephen Berry - The Biofab War

"Check and advise. Bridge. H'Nar? Noble Captain here. Where are we?"

L'Wrona switched the screen to plot. The red dot of Implacable was projected between the fifth and fourth green orbs from the big yellow disk occupying screen center. "Halfway between the fifth and fourth planets, J'Quel. The smaller planets are insystem. We've confirmed radio signals coming from number three. Otherwise, sensor probes negative. The outer worlds we've passed so far would probably not have attracted the Imperials-unfit for habitation. Number three's our best chance." He glanced at his board. "Coming up on number four now. Several small moons. Little atmosphere. Just another dead-" He broke off, blinking.

"K'Raoda, L'Sura, check radiation sensors. Mine just swept off scale." He ran it back. "N seventeen."

"Confirmed."

"Confirmed."

Computer broke in with an asexual urgency. "Alert! Alert! N seventeen. N seventeen. Request battlestations. Request battlestations."

"Captain, an N seventeen sweep," L'Wrona said tersely.

"Peak, down, off?" D’Trelna rolled out of bed.

"Yes. That could only be-"

"I know what it is," he said, pulling the warsuit on over his rumpled underwear.

"But this far out?"

Another voice came into the commband. "Bridge. Engineering officer. I'm unable to raise anyone on Hangar Deck."

"Captain here. Stand by, N'Trol.

"That's it, H'Nar. Hangar Deck. It's their standard assault pattern-vector on the largest open part of a ship." He tugged on his boots. "Apologies to you, N'Trol. Thank fate you got security shielding on line.

"Very well, H'Nar. Speed, not subtlety." He stood, bolstering on the blaster. "Shield and seal Hangar Deck. Battlestations. I'm closer; I will command the counterattack. You trace that N seventeen to their base and take it out."

"J'Quel," the XO protested, "you're too old for a firefight. That's my duty."

"I am not too old, I am too heavy. But there's no time to change places. If nothing else, I'll draw fire from the assault. Out." With that, he ran into the corridor, covering the ten paces to the nearest lift as the battle klaxon rattled off the walls, sending bleary eyed officers running for their posts.

Sealed behind the bridge's thick battlesteel, L'Wrona sat in the Captain's chair, softly drumming his fingers on the arm. "Well?" he demanded, unknowingly mimicking D'Trelna.

K'Raoda looked up, shaking his head. "I need another transmission for a fix. It could be either the planet or one of its satellites."

"Bridge, Engineering," came N'Trol's unmistakable gravel voice. "We've bypassed that faulty relay. I can give you seventy-five percent external shield now."

L'Wrona shook his head, eyes still on the screen with its tactical scan of nearby space. "Negative, Engineer. Leave the shield down. And drop Hangar Deck's security shield. Be prepared to raise both instantly on my order."

The challenge came at once. "Flanking Councilor two to Imperial seven."

"Arcon five to Flanking Councilor seven." Nonsensical as an i'worr move, it made a good authenticator.

"Very well, sir. We'll await your order."

K'Raoda looked up from the half-finished trace pattern threading across a telltale. "What are you doing, sir, if I may ask?"

"Getting you your N seventeen, Subcommander. They know we're at battlestations. But we haven't moved on Hangar Deck yet, and I've dropped security shielding, so they may well think it a drill. I'm hoping they'll take the opportunity to flit reinforcements aboard before moving deeper into the ship. When they do, complete your trace."

"But we're at battlestations," protested L'Sura. "They'll think primary shielding is up."

"Don't worry," L'Wrona said, "I'm about to tell them it isn't." Before he could do anything, the commnet chimed.

"H'Nar, we're in position. Have you gotten a trace yet?" At the head of fifty commandos, the Captain was pressed against the gray wall of corridor A-10. Around the next curve, the double access doors to Hangar Deck were sealed shut.

"No, sir. I was about to inspire it."

"Inspire it, then. Let's get this over with. Computer. Captain. Leave this channel tied into Commander L'Wrona's and acknowledge."

The machine beeped its response.

"XO to Hangar Deck," L'Wrona said languidly.

''Hangar Watch. Ensign U'Rola,'' replied a familiar, cheery voice. A dead man's voice.

"XO here. Shield's still inoperative. Engineering wants a two-man maintenance shuttle readied. Seems we've a faulty hull repeater."

"Very good, sir. It'll be ready when they arrive."

"Thank you, Mr. U'Rola. Bridge out.

"Did you get that, J'Quel?"

"Good, aren't they?" said the Captain coldly, checking his blaster. "We'll see just how good in a moment."

"N seventeen." K'Raoda adjusted a setting. "Got the little slime. Mark seven, one four nine three. The nearer satellite."

"Well done." L'Wrona nodded. "Mr. N'Trol, both shields now, please. Mr. L'Sura, flank speed for target. Stand by gunnery.

"They're all yours, merchant."

Peering cautiously around the corner, D'Trelna saw the security shield's hazy overlay blurring the doors. "Computer," he said, striding purposefully toward the doors, weapon leveled, "this is the Captain." Behind him the commandos fell into skirmish order, long, lethal M-32s at highport. "On my command, you will override the seal on Hangar Deck access A-ten and breach security shield to admit my party and me. After we enter you will seal and shield the access, opening only on my or the Executive Officer's direct, confirmed order. Acknowledge and confirm."

"Acknowledged. Assault Leader four to Admiral's phalanx nine."

"Imperiad four to Admiral two."

"Order confirmed."

D’Trelna looked at D'Nir. The young commando Sergeant nodded. "Computer. Open access doors A-ten and breach shield."

Before the doors were halfway back, D’Trelna charged through, an angry bull heading straight down the center of the cavernous hangar. The familiar sight of shuttles, scouts, and fighters nestled in their soft-lit berths did not reassure him. Something was wrong: it was too quiet. Hangar Deck was never quiet. There should have been sixty crew on watch, performing the necessary drudgery of maintenance and security. Nothing moved. Only the soft padding of the troopers' boots broke the uncanny silence.

Not pausing, not turning, D'Trelna waved his weapon to the right. A squad broke off, running for the ramp to Hangar Control, recessed behind a great slab of one-way armor glass high above the gray deck.

Walking from behind a shuttle, duty log in hand, a cherub-faced ensign looked up, astonished at the sight of the advancing commandos. "Captain?" he asked, smiling uncertainly. "Why the invasion?"

As he stepped toward U'Rola, D'Trelna's communicator screeched. Unhesitating, the Captain fired a bolt straight into the Ensign's chest. His form rippling, U'Rola dissolved into a dark-green insectoid. It fell to the deck, a hole seared through its thorax. Bulbous eyes staring sightlessly at the distant ceiling, it lay with legs and tentacles twitching as the humans stormed past.

From atop the flat-roofed shuttles and from behind landing struts, the distinctive indigo of S'Cotar blaster fire lashed out.

"Assault!" D'Trelna shouted needlessly, snapping off a shot as his warsuit took a bolt. The commandos swept past him, closing with the shapes that flickered in among the shadows, angry red lightning blasting from their rifles. As they zigzagged in among the craft, blue ion fire touched but did not harm them, deflected by the warsuit's ancient magic.

Unprotected by resurrected Imperial technology, the S'Cotar warriors fell back into an ever-tighter circle until, cornered before the great hangar doors, a final volley finished them. D'Trelna personally killed their last transmute, distinguishable from its warriors by a thinner exoskeleton and tapering upper tentacles.