The Clone Empire

force of the suction nearly lifted me off my feet in the split second that our atmosphere bled through the breach, then emergency bulkheads slammed into place, dividing the corridor into airtight sections.

The lights came back online, revealing men strewn on the floor, some bleeding, and some writhing in pain. We would remain trapped between the massive bulkheads until the atmospheric pressure stabilized. This was the naval equivalent of an amputation. Parts of the ship that were too badly damaged were sealed off in order to save the whole.

Bulkheads blocked the hall on either side of me. I could not run to the landing bay or return to the elevators. All I could do was wait and wonder if the hull would crack, and I’d be flushed into space.

The bastards hit us again, and I was helpless. How many men had we lost? What part of the ship would the next laser or torpedo hit? How much damage had we taken? How much more could we sustain? If the ship broke into pieces, would my little section of hull float into space with me sealed inside like a bird in a cage? Like a body in a coffin. How many ships had the Unified Authority sent through the broadcast zone?

What if the attack on Olympus Kri had all been a hoax? I knew it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t, but Andropov had used it as an opportunity to get the upper hand. All that bullshit about the Liberators never losing a battle …With the unintended help of the Avatari, Andropov would succeed where his Double Y clones had failed, the bastard.

The lights went off-line again. In the darkness, men screamed and pounded the atmospheric bulkheads with their fists.

Two birds with one stone, I thought. With our cooperation, Andropov had built a temporary broadcast station by Mars, and now he was using that broadcast station to send battleships and destroyers.

Our broadcast station was programmed to send ships to Mars; they’d just sent their specking barges through it. They could hit us and return home, and there wasn’t a specking thing we could do to stop them. Now that they had their own sending station and a way to broadcast their ships home, we were at their mercy …as if the Unified Authority had ever had mercy.

They hit us again. There, in the darkness, I fell as the ship shuddered around me. I listened to the screams, the calls for help, the prayers. I made my way to my feet, and felt my way ahead until I reached the cold smooth surface of the emergency bulkhead. I wondered what I would find on the other side if it ever opened.

Moments passed, then the bulkhead slid open. The lights remained out; so, groping the wall for balance, I pushed forward, tripping over men I could not see in the darkness. The only light shone from panels and signs along the walls.

More shots hit the ship, but these felt like glancing blows. Perhaps the shields were up, perhaps they came from weaker weapons. I knew so little about naval combat. The floor shook. People toppled. Whatever damage was going to be done to the Kamehameha might already be done.

Moving ahead slowly, taking faltering steps and reaching out with my to feel my way ahead, I reached the landing bay. The hatch slid open, revealing emergency lights and the glow of fire. Crews hosed down a blaze under the control booth. Across the deck, fountains of sparks shot out of a row of panels.

Lieutenant Nobles waited for me just inside the door. He pulled at my arm, and yelled, “They’re going to let us through, but they can’t protect us once we’re out!”

We ran into the shuttle and started rolling toward the launch tube. The nose of the shuttle veered right and left, as if Nobles were steering like a drunk, he, all the while, shouting into the microphone, “Open the first lock. Open the first lock!”

I could hear commotion over the radio. Several seconds passed before we got an answer. “You’re cleared. God help you.”

The first of the atmospheric locks slowly ground open just far enough for us to fit through and began closing even before we cleared it. The men controlling the flight deck were not taking any chances. They handled the second and third atmospheric gates the same way, just giving us enough room to pass and closing it quickly behind us.

A wave of relief washed over me as we launched. I had not really believed we would make it off the ship; but there we were, trading the tight confines of the launch tube for the endless expanse of space.

Huge fighter carriers loomed before us. Fighters sped around us, ignoring us, approaching us and ducking away. Tiny fireballs erupted from the side of the Kamehameha. They flared out of the ship and evaporated into nothing. The ship’s shields were down and the antennae that projected those shields were destroyed. It was only a matter of time until the ship went dark; large portions already had.

Beside the Kamehameha hung the ad-Din, looking stronger, but still wounded. Villanueva had sent all of her fighters to circle the ship. They formed a protective screen around the big carrier, but what did it matter?

Using the radio, I hailed the Salah ad-Din. I identified myself and asked for Captain Villanueva, but I only got as far as one of his lieutenants.

“General, where are you?” he asked. “We can try to—”

“I’m on a shuttle. If you scan, you’ll find us. We’re headed to the broadcast zone,” I said.

“Now listen, I have a broadcast key aboard the shuttle. I am about to broadcast to Terraneau. Tell Villanueva to try and enter the zone. The Unifieds won’t follow you; they’ll think it’s a trap.”

“Aye, aye.”

“Pass the message. Tell any ship that can to follow us.”

“Aye, sir.”

I signed off, knowing that if any ship’s captain could possibly break free, it was probably Villanueva. Maybe we would salvage a few ships.

Glancing back at the damaged fighter carriers, six of them—one representing each of the six galactic arms—I saw immediately that the outlook was bleak. Layers of U.A. ships had clustered around the E.M.N. fighter carriers. The Unifieds had sent old ships and new ones as well. It looked like the entire Earth Fleet had joined in on the attack. Seeing four battleships advance on the Kamehameha, I realized that this was not so much a battle as it was a lynching.

I took one last glance at that proud old ship, then I opened the front cover of the book and found the forty- two-digit code for Terraneau. The new generation ships that the Unifieds had sent had broadcast engines, they would be able to return to Earth. Most of the ships involved in this ambush were older ships, however. They were not self-broadcasting. The plan was to send them back to the Sol System using our broadcast station, which was currently set for Mars. By programming a new code into the key, I would strand some of those Earth ships in Olympus Kri space. Their only escape would be to follow me to Terraneau; but, fearing a trap, they would be slow to come after me.

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

Earthdate: November 17, A.D. 2517

Location: Terraneau

Galactic Position: Scutum-Crux Arm

“They’re not going to make it out of there, are they?” Nobles asked, as we emerged from the anomaly.

“Some of them might,” I said. “If Villanueva reaches the broadcast zone, he’s home free. The Unifieds won’t follow him.”

Nobles changed the subject. “Why did they attack us?” The words came out in a groan. He looked miserable, somewhere between tears and insanity. A wild look of fear and anger showed in his brown eyes, and his lips quivered as he spoke. “Why the hell did they attack us?”

I looked out into the calm corner of space we had just entered. Stars shone around us. Terraneau, a planet with lakes and rivers and oceans, sparkled like a rare gem.

“They attacked because they can’t afford an open war,” I said in a quiet, subdued voice, the voice of defeat.