B. Larson - Conquest

I’d seen a missile like this up-close in the ground at Andros, where we’d tried to defuse it. Then it had been half-buried in the earth, however, and badly damaged. The nose section of the missile was the warhead, in the form of a metal cone. The midsection held the Macro pilot, enclosed in a framework of metal tubing. Behind him was the engine with its flaring plume of hot exhaust. The entire thing was a strange sight.

I thought, for just an instant, that the machine saw me as well. Then it was gone in the vastness of space, on a one-way journey to strike down one of our ships.

“Get inside the port, full throttle!” I ordered.

I saw men all around me surge forward in response to my order. I joined them.

The missile port closed as we slipped inside. Not all of us made it. One man had lost a leg, two more were trapped outside, thumping on the hull.

“What now, sir?” Kwon said, breathing hard.

We were cramped in the missile magazine. All around us was machinery and two more missiles. Fortunately, no other Macro technicians had loaded themselves into the last two spots.

Moments after we entered the port, we were rocked and tossed about by an explosion outside-very close. I imagined the missile had found one of the Worm ships or gotten close enough and detonated itself. The men we’d left outside stopped sending us signals, and I figured we would never find any remains.

“Disable these missiles,” I ordered. “I don’t want them taking out any more friendly ships.”

“And after that?”

I sucked in a lungful of stale, suit air. “After that, we take this ship.”

The fighting went hard, and we almost lost. We never made it to the engine room, the key to taking over any Macro ship. Kwon and I were down to five effectives, having left our wounded and dying in a quiet corner of the ship on the lower decks. Honestly, I thought we were dead. Any moment, I expected the Macro marines to find us and finish us off, or for our own fleet to blast the ship into fragments, unaware they’d killed their own commander.

In the end, help came from an unexpected source. Reflecting back on the situation, it was the only help that could have come.

A monstrous entity of shambling metal slithered down the passages, showering sparks as it came. I knew from experience most of the sparks were from the bare metal wires it touched as it passed by. Macro crews tended not to bother insulating their power wires. The monster itself was constructed of seemingly random articles of metal. The hind legs that pushed it forward had the grasshopper-like, spring-loaded anatomy of a Macro worker. But the head section and the torso was an open framework of steel tubing. What identified the creature to me, were the three whipping black arms that sprouted from the thorax region and which the thing used to drag its body forward along the passage.

“What the nine hells is that, sir?” Kwon asked me in a whisper.

I stared at it for a second, then turned to Kwon, grinning inside my helmet. “That’s Marvin. Hold your fire, everyone!”

The marines did as they were told, but they weren’t happy about it. They kept their weapons trained upon the approaching abomination, ready to blast it the moment it made a false move.

“Hello, Colonel Riggs,” it said. The voice seemed very strange, being so civilized while emanating from such a frightening source.

“Where’s the rest of you, Marvin?” I asked.

“Outside on the hull. I found a long burn-through scar on the dorsal side of the ship. The Worms must have done it.”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning back against the wall of the ship. “I assume Star Force has taken the rest of the ship?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Uh, why are you here then?”

“To warn you that this ship is scheduled for demolition. It’s still active, and your replacement commander is systematically destroying all the vessels that didn’t escape.”

There were a string of things I didn’t like about Marvin’s statement. I fixated on the main point, however, which involved our survival.

“Why didn’t you tell them I was aboard this ship?”

“Because the Macros are listening in to our communications. I didn’t want the enemy to target you, sir.”

“Oh yeah,” I said. I had to agree with his logic. During our conflicts with the Macros since our rebellion, they’d taken pains to pinpoint my position and they seemed to be gunning for me. I heaved myself upright and my marines did the same. There were a number of groans.

“All right,” I said. “How do we get out of here?”

“Follow me, sir.”

We did so, picking up our survivors on the way. Fortunately, we were able to clamp them onto the back of Marvin’s strange body. As he humped and sparked his way through the ship, our wounded flopped about on his back. Those that were able to do so, complained bitterly.

We found the rip in the hull Marvin had spoken of. It was a tight squeeze for him, but was easily managed by my marines. We were soon floating free in space.

“Are there any more active Macro cruisers in the area?”

“No sir, but several of them haven’t been knocked out yet.”

“Who is running fleet ops then?”

“Commodore Decker.”

I winced. He was one of Crow’s hand-picked favorites. The man was old guard British navy, with little in the way of imagination. He was competent, if annoying.

“Commodore Decker?” I called on an open channel. “This is Colonel Riggs, please respond.”

The response didn’t come for another minute or so. I began to become annoyed. “Commodore Decker, I repeat, this is-”

“Riggs? Where have you been hiding, man?”

“Inside the belly of a Macro cruiser.”

“Humph. Glad to hear you made it.”

“Let’s connect on a private channel, Decker.”

“I’m in the middle of Fleet ops now, so I’m afraid I can’t chit-chat, Riggs.”

“Private channel, please.”

A few moments later, I had my private chat with him. He didn’t want to give up ops, having assumed command when Barbarossa was hit and he’d figured I’d been lost. I couldn’t blame him for that, but I didn’t want these disabled Macro ships destroyed. After a short argument, he recognized my authority as mission commander and I resumed command. My surviving marines were taken aboard a second destroyer where they suffered the probing ministrations of the ship’s medical room. Fortunately, I’d escaped serious injury. I avoided the skinny black arms of the medical nanites as well and let my own personal nanites repair my body. The process would be slower, but I would stay more lucid. For command, that was a necessity.

I managed to cancel all efforts to destroy the crippled enemy ships. We left the hulks floating in space and headed for the ring to Eden, through which the last handful of enemy ships had escaped. I was angry with Commodore Decker for not pressing ahead and stopping them, but the damage had been done. On the positive side, I had to admit he’d done a fair job of mopping up and managing a bad situation. We’d won the battle due to our superior numbers and the weakness of the Macro fleet after it had hit the Worm minefield first.

That thought brought me around to the Worms, who were still following us. They were down to seventy-three ships, while we had only forty effectives. I was glad to see half the Star Force destroyers had survived the engagement. I wanted to have something left to return to Crow when I went home.

We rolled through the Eden ring at a relatively cautious pace. No one knew what we’d meet on the far side, but I wasn’t comfortable with allowing even a fraction of the enemy to escape if I could help it. If nothing else, they were carrying away copious amounts of intelligence about our strength and tactics.