He fought the urge to call Carp and order the lifeboat to come back. He knew that wasn’t an option…once launched, the escape craft didn’t have the capability to dock again. Still, he could feel the panic building inside him, and it took all his will to fight it. Finally, grimly, he forced back the fear. He had a job to do and, by God, he was going to do it.
“Raptor Control…” Riley’s voice was soft but steady. He had regained his composure. “…it’s just you and me now.”
“Yes, Captain Calloway. The lifeboats are safely away.” The AI’s voice was not entirely unemotional. It understood the situation, and it modified its audio output accordingly. “Now what would you like me to do?”
Calloway paused. He knew what he had planned, but that didn’t make it any easier to actually do it. He’d ordered the lifeboats to run silent, and that meant their only velocity was that of Raptor, modified by the force imparted by the launch catapults. Firing their thrusters would be like sending out a signal flare at this range, and their only hope for survival was to remain undetected. Calloway was going to give them the diversion they needed. He was going to give them a chance to survive.
“Prepare to exert full thrust. Calculate optimal vector toward enemy ship.” Raptor still had considerable velocity heading away from Adelaide. The thrust Calloway was planning would only modify that slightly, but it would put distance between Raptor and her lifeboats - the escape pods would continue on the original, unchanged vector.
“We have completed partial repairs to the engines, captain, however full thrust at this point would be extremely dangerous.”
Calloway smiled grimly. Things were way past caution now. “Yes, I understand. Please execute nonetheless.” He hesitated for a few seconds then added, “And please deactivate all reactor safety systems.”
“In our present condition, at 100% capacity, a reactor failure is a virtual certainty.” The AI modified its tone yet again, expressing extreme concern. “Without the failsafe systems operational, a thermonuclear explosion will be unavoidable.”
“Yes, my friend.” Calloway’s thoughts were drifting, but he remained steadfast. “That is exactly what I want.” The massive output of energy when Raptor exploded might…just might…provide the cover the lifeboats needed to remain undetected.
“Understood, captain.” A few seconds of silence, then: “All systems are prepared, Captain Calloway.” The AI would obey Calloway’s commands, but in its processing core it was experiencing unfamiliar sensations. Its voice was steady – it was not human, and its auditory systems were not connected directly to the status of its primary thought routines. The quasi-sentient AI units were not true beings, but they were more than just computers. The system’s loyalty to Calloway was absolute…it would do whatever he commanded and sacrifice itself in any way necessary for the mission or the preservation of the crew. But it did feel an urge for self-preservation. It was afraid.
Calloway looked around the battered wreckage of the Raptor’s bridge, now empty save for himself. His mind wandered down the corridors of the vessel, silent and abandoned. He thought about his parents back on Terra Nova, and he felt a wave of guilt when his imagined his mother reading the notice from the navy. He’d sent those letters too many times, to too many loved ones. It is with my deepest regret that I must inform you of the death of…
He looked out at the bridge one last time, though his eyes were not seeing the battered control center…they were lost in time, imagining things and people long gone. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Engage.”
Raptor’s reactor roared into full operation, feeding power directly to the straining, tortured engines. Calloway was pushed back into his chair as Raptor thrusted at nearly 8g. It was nowhere near the maximum normal output, but it was all she could coax from her savaged engines.
The Raptor’s captain lay in his chair, struggling to breath under the heavy pressure. Without the drugs and a properly functioning acceleration couch, 8g was a lot of pressure to withstand. He lay there in a dream, his thoughts drifting, imagining things he hadn’t thought of in years.
Raptor’s systems held for 93 seconds. It wasn’t long, but it was enough…enough to get her away from the lifeboats. When the containment vessel in the reactor finally blew, AS Raptor performed her final duty. For a few seconds she became a miniature sun, and with her destruction…and the death of her captain…she bought her crew a chance, however slim, of survival.
There was a white haze in front of Clarkson’s eyes. He was groggy, confused…and his head ached like someone had driven a spike through it. He tried to get up, but his legs wouldn’t move. He eased himself back down and took a deep breath. Slowly, steadily, the disorientation faded. The haziness pulled away, leaving only the late afternoon sun in the sky.
At first he couldn’t remember anything, but then he realized where he was. He reached around frantically, trying to find his rifle. He expected the enemy to be on him any second, but finally he realized he was alone. The trench had been virtually obliterated, and he was half-buried in the coarse brown Adelaide sand.
He tried to pull his legs free, but there was too much weight. He leaned over and started shoveling the dirt with his hands, and finally he managed to claw his way out. There were bodies lying half-buried all along the trench line…the bodies of his troops. He stumbled to his feet and looked around for survivors, but he didn’t find any. Then he remembered – his people had carried back their wounded when they retreated.
“Clarkson to platoon…Clarkson to platoon.” He spoke into the comlink, but all he could hear was static. “This is Sergeant Clarkson calling any Alliance personnel.” Still nothing. He wondered if his comlink was damaged…or if there was just no one left to answer.
He climbed up and looked out over the remains of the trench. The field the enemy had approached over was empty…all except for the bodies of the few attackers his troops had managed to take down. He climbed up and out of the trench, sliding back down a few times before he managed to get a foothold and hoist himself out. His head was pounding, but he ignored it. He had a quest now…he was going to see who this enemy was.
He walked across the field, stopping every few steps to scan the horizon. Nothing. He was alone. The ground all around the trench line was torn to shreds…mostly the work of the enemy’s cluster bomb weapon. Once he got out of the immediate area, the ground was in better shape, although there were craters all around where the militia’s mortars had impacted, largely ineffectively.
Clarkson stumbled across the pockmarked field. He was weak and his throat burned with thirst, but he pushed himself forward. His SAW teams had taken down several of the enemy troops about half a klick from the trench line, and he walked out in that direction. He could see them lying just ahead in the dusky light, their bodies shattered by the heavy weapons fire.
He looked down as he reached them, and he froze in stunned silence. Then he dropped to his knees, hands furiously grabbing at enemy body parts, examining them closely. No, he thought, not body parts…these aren’t soldiers at all – they’re robots.
“What the hell?” Clarkson was talking to himself as he continued pawing through the debris. “Who sent these…things…here?” Clarkson was no expert on robotics, but he knew that none of the Superpowers had ever managed to produce automated soldiers that could replace humans. The AIs the Marines used were useful tools, but in the end it was the men and women that mattered.
Naval ships were often controlled by their sophisticated computer systems, especially when their crews were being crushed into semi-consciousness by the g forces experienced in battle. But even then, the strategies and overall guidance was in the hands of human officers.