Alarm of War

She would never see Cookie again.

Never laugh with her, never tease her about the teddy bear she had smuggled into Camp Gettysburg.

Never see her marry Hiram Brill.

It felt grotesquely obscene that she could talk so clearly with her friend, like they were standing in the same room together, but could not hope to rescue her.

“Oh, Cookie, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Cookie shrugged. “Yeah, well, this is what we do, Em.” Her smile held a hint of devilish mischief. “Remember that first week at Camp Gettysburg, when Sergeant Kaelin had us line up and shoot each other?” She laughed. “I shot you in the leg and you fell over, screamin’ like the end of the world.”

Emily nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Long time ago,” Cookie mused. She wiped a hand across her face, leaving a smear of blood behind. The tattooed blood tears stood out in stark relief against her skin.

“Cookie, how many troops do you have? Can you fight your way out?” Emily asked, hating herself for breaking Cookie’s reverie.

“Nineteen, including the wounded. Most are out of ammo.” She sighed, the leaned in toward the camera, her voice softening. “Take care of Hiram, Em. Tell him he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Tell him-”

In the background, there was suddenly the sound of men shouting and shots being fired. Someone called out: “Sarge, they’re comin’!”

Cookie looked over her shoulder, then back to the camera, her face set and hard.

“Time to go,” she said simply.

The screen went dark.

For a long heartbeat, Emily just sat there staring at the blank image. She didn’t want to think about what she had just done, so she willed herself to stop thinking. About the war, about the damn Dominions, about Cookie and Hiram and their never-to-be-born children. She would think of none of it.

She wanted to weep.

Alex Rudd squatted down beside her chair. He spoke very softly. “Emily,” he said, “we don’t have to stay here and die. Your Marine friend has disabled the Duck battleship, at least for now. They don’t have anything else that big.”

She stared at him for a moment, uncomprehendingly.

“Emily,” he said more urgently. “Dammit, don’t go kamikaze on me! We do not have to die here. We should run for the worm hole as soon as Atlas clears the fail safe point.”

Emily took a deep breath. Haltingly, reluctantly, she allowed herself a glimmer of hope. Slowly, she nodded to Rudd. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay.” Then she took hold of herself.

“Max!” she called. Her voice sounded far away.

“Who shall I attack?” the AI asked again.

Sweet Gods of Our Mothers, she was sick and tired of Max. “Switch back to Merlin.” There was a momentary pause, then:

“Your orders, Captain Tuttle?”

“Display two clocks. The first showing how long before Atlas enters the worm hole to Refuge. The second showing how soon the Dominion ships on your sensors will have Atlas in missile range. Do not take into consideration Dominion ability to shoot lasers.”

The screen flickered and words appeared:

Time to Refuge worm hole: 36:14.

Earliest Dominion missile launch window: 32:28.

Emily nodded. If the Dominions did not start their pursuit within four minutes, they couldn’t get close enough to hit Atlas with missiles before Atlas dove into the worm hole.

“Message to the Kent and Yorkshire: If the big battleship has still not emerged in exactly four minutes, we are going to do a speed run to the Refuge worm hole! Get ready!”

Grant Skiffington’s face appeared on the comm. “But the Dominion battleship, where is it? Why hasn’t it come through?”

“Cookie took the bridge,” Emily explained. “The battleship has stopped, at least for now. She’s going to buy us a little more time, and we only need a little. Admiral Douthat’s force should be back soon.” She fervently hoped she was right about that.

Skiffington’s face lit up. “We can go in and get her, Emily,” he said excitedly. “If the battleship is stopped dead, we can go in and find Cookie’s team and bring them out.” He looked at her imploringly.

Emily closed her eyes. He didn’t understand, or he didn’t want to understand. He could not knowingly sacrifice his people.

“No.”

The word hung there. She could hear it reverberate in her mind.

Now Skiffington sounded frantic. “I can get her, Emily. I-”

“No, Grant. We need to rearm. We need to be ready in case the cruisers take a shot at Atlas while they still have time.”

“But-”

“You have your orders, Captain Skiffington,” she said flatly. “New Zealand out.” She closed the comm screen. She watched the clock count off the seconds. Four minutes later, they started their speed run to the Atlas.

Leaving Cookie and her soldiers stranded on the Dominion battleship.

Emily tucked her shaking hands under her thighs and sat on them.

Fifteen minutes later, Chief Freidman called out: “New contact! A battleship has just come though the minefield behind us and is joining the four Dominion cruisers. Merlin identifies it as the Dominion battleship Fortitude. Last known commander, Admiral Kaeser. They are accelerating in pursuit!”

But the Ducks had waited too late. There was no way for them

to catch the Atlas. Now the question was if the New Zealand, Kent and Yorkshire could escape before they were blown to atoms.

“Chief, you’re sure it’s not the big bastard?” Emily asked, anxious to confirm that this was only a terrible tactical situation and not an utter nightmare.

For the first time since his return from Sick Bay, Chief Friedman’s weathered face cracked into a smile. “It’s only a regular Dominion battleship, Captain Tuttle.”

“Barely anything to worry about then,” Rudd added dryly. “Four undamaged cruisers and a battleship against three yard-jobs with barely any ammunition left.”

Emily called to Merlin: “Set new clocks. First, time for us to reach the worm hole. Second, time to missile launch window for the Dominions to fire on us.” Instantly the clocks hovering over the battle display changed.

Time to worm hole: 31:15

Dominion missile window: 20:12

Emily winced. They’d be in range for eleven minutes. She thumbed her comm. “It is going to get very hot around here in twenty minutes. Prepare chaff, decoys and anti-missile mines. Set anti-missile system to full automatic, but make sure the ammunition pods are fully loaded. We need to buy ourselves eleven minutes, then we’ll be through the worm hole and covered by the Refuge defenses.” Unless the Refuge defenses mistook them for Ducks and blew them apart, she thought. Then she sat back and let her crew do their jobs, and prayed there was enough crew left to get it all done.

Fifteen minutes later there was a piece of good news. “Captain,” reported Chief Gibson, “the Atlas just passed into the Refuge worm hole. In two minutes she’ll enter Refuge space.”

“Where are Admiral Douthat’s ships?”

Gibson adjusted his display. “They’ve formed a rear guard behind Atlas and are following it through the worm hole,” he said. Emily noticed for the first time that his face was covered with sweat.

We are on our own, again, she thought. But the Atlas was safe. And Queen Anne.