Kennedy Hudner - Alarm of War

Her bridge crew stared at her, open mouthed.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “But I need all of you to command the ship. Alex, designate the nonessential crew. If in doubt, send them to the shuttle bay. We can control most of the weapons from here.” The weapons didn’t really matter, she knew. They weren’t going to kill that big bastard ship with less than a dozen missiles; they were going to kill it by ramming it with three Victorian cruisers accelerating to full military speed.

The crew continued to stare at her, and her eyes fell on Tobias Partridge. He is so young, she thought. And what’s more, Partridge was assisting Chief Friedman, not in charge of the sensors himself. Alex Rudd was watching her from behind Partridge. He sensed what she was thinking and nodded, pointing at the young man.

Chief Gibson nodded as well. “He’s just a lad,” he said softly.

“Mr. Partridge,” she said, “Go to the shuttle bay and evacuate to Atlas. Quickly, if you please.” Partridge looked stricken, glancing at the two Chiefs and back to Emily. She said nothing. He stood abruptly, jaw clenched, then left without a word. As he left, Emily felt herself loosen a little. At least I could save him.

On the Atlas, Queen Anne and Sir Henry sat in a small room, watching a duplicate battle hologram that showed the second Dominion cruiser emerging from the minefield.

“Why don’t they fire?” the Queen asked in frustration, referring to the three Victorian ships led by Emily Tuttle.

“I rather suspect that they are out of missiles,” Sir Henry said harshly. They had been arguing on and off for hours, with Sir Henry urging her to take a fast ship and leave for Refuge, and the Queen stubbornly refusing.

On the holo display, several small dots of light suddenly appeared, leaving the three Victorian cruisers and heading slowly towards Atlas. The Queen frowned, leaning forward to see more clearly.

“Are those courier drones?” she asked.

“No, Your Majesty,” said Hiram Brill from the doorway. “They’re shuttles. Captain Tuttle has ordered all nonessential crew to try to make it to the Atlas.”

Queen Anne looked at him in confusion. Sir Henry blanched, then cursed under his breath. Hiram nodded grimly. Anne glanced at Sir Henry, then back to Hiram. “What?” she asked, half perturbed, half alarmed.

“Emily has sent off the nonessential crew because she is preparing to ram the Dominion battleship, Majesty.”

“Oh,” said Anne Radcliff Mendoza Churchill, queen of all Victoria, in a very small voice.

Cookie peeked around the corner. There it was, the entrance to the Combat Control Center. With ten guards milling about in front of it. The actual entrance was probably thirty yards down the corridor. There were no side doors, no joining corridors. Once they rounded the corner and attacked, they would be exposed for the full thirty yards.

Nothing for it. Do, or die trying. She smiled, despite herself. We’re havin’ fun now.

Behind them, the sounds of fighting grew louder. The Duck armored troops were getting closer. Runners had told her that three of the five armored troops had been killed, but the butcher’s bill among the Victorian Marines had been gruesomely high.

“Wisnioswski!” she whispered. In a moment, the big Marine was crouched beside her, pistol in one hand, spear in the other.

Cookie looked him full in the face. “Havin’ a good time, Wisnioswski?”

He smiled broadly and held up his spear. The shaft was red with blood almost its entire length. “Wouldn’t have missed this for the world, Sarge!”

Cookie leaned closer to him. “We’ve picked up about ten grenades from the dead Duck soldiers. Gather them up from our guys and bring them to me. Be quick about it!”

Wisnioswski grinned and nodded, then slid away, still brandishing his spear. It’s like having my own Polish Viking, she thought, bemused. And thank God for him.

On the H.M.S. Lionheart, Admiral Douthat sat and fumed. “Can’t you go any faster?” she asked harshly. They were still an hour away from Atlas and even further from the minefield where the fighting was taking place.

Captain Eder shook his head. “We are now at three gravities above full military acceleration. We have exceeded all of the safety limits. If we accelerate any harder the probability of failure goes to one hundred percent.”

Douthat muttered a curse.

A bridge officer handed Captain Eder a tablet. He glanced at it, then turned to Douthat. “The Ducks have broken through the minefield. Several cruisers and a very large battleship. The last three ships of the Coldstream Guard are preparing to attack.”

The last three ? Douthat winced. “And the Queen?” she asked.

“She refuses to leave the Atlas,” Eder replied.

“God dammit!” Douthat snarled. “Can’t this thing go any faster?”

Emily commed the Kent and Yorkshire . “Merlin estimates the Duck battleship will come through in about ten minutes, maybe fifteen. From the time we see it to the time we hit it, we’ll have about one minute to pile on as much speed as we can. Full military acceleration all the way.”

Stein looked at her sourly. “Who goes first?” she asked.

Emily smiled thinly. “This is the Navy, remember? We all go together.”

Grant Skiffington shook his head. “Emily, there has to be another way, something better than-”

“What?” Emily demanded. “Tell me another way to stop that damn battleship from getting through! Give me a bloody alternative and I’ll take it!”

Grant stared at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. Emily turned to Stein. “Do you have a better option?”

Stein glowered, but said nothing.

Emily nodded. “Be ready in ten minutes. Switch your AI to ‘Max.’ And when I give the order, don’t do anything fancy. Straight in and ram the bastard. New Zealand out.”

Cookie wiped the sweat from her hands and primed the first grenade, then the second. She stepped out from the corner and threw them. Beside her Wisnioswski threw four more that he had taped together. They had four left, but she was saving them in case the armored Dominion soldiers caught up to them.

They jumped back.

BaaWHAM!!! The explosion jolted Cookie to her knees. Metal fragments pinged and ricocheted off the bulkhead. Screams and shrieks sounded from the corridor. “Get ‘em!” Cookie screamed and all thirty four of her soldiers dashed down the corridor, screaming and shooting as they ran.

But at least four of the Ducks were alive. Stunned and wounded, but still fighting. They sprayed the corridor with flechettes that cut a swath through the attackers. Two of the Royal Marines simply blew apart, chucks of flesh splattering wetly into the faces of the Marines behind them. Eight more screamed and fell, punctured by dozens of steel darts. Cookie’s troops opened fire in a raging fusillade, but their fire sputtered and died as one by one their air rifles ran out of ammunition or air.

There was nowhere to hide.

More Marines fell. Cookie brought up her captured pistol, fired five quick shots into one of the Ducks, stitching him across the chest and neck, but then her weapon clicked empty and she threw it at the last gunman in sheer frustration. The last Dominion killed two more of her Marines before his eyes bulged in horrified disbelief as a six foot spear shaft suddenly grew out of his chest. He fell to his knees, struggling once more to bring up his assault rifle.

Wisnioswski shot him in the head, then kicked the corpse and spat. He grabbed his spear with one hand and yanked it out, then kicked the corpse a second time.

Cookie snatched up one of the assault rifles, checked the load and did a fast scan of the corridor. Bodies lay everywhere. Pieces of flesh stuck to the walls and ceiling. A severed arm lay alone, its fingers still twitching. Blood puddled beneath bodies and ran in streams down the corridor. Of the thirty four men and women who charged the entrance, at least fifteen were dead. And just out of sight, she could hear increased firing as the Duck armored troops steadily worked closer.