Chosen Frozen - Cover

Chosen Frozen

Copyright© 2011 by lordshipmayhem

Chapter 23: Home Fires

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 23: Home Fires - Welcome to Thule, the ice planet - home of the 12th Marine Brigade, the Chosen Frozen. (Sequel to Power Play.)

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   ft/ft   Fa/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Reluctant   Science Fiction   Space   Incest   Mother   Daughter   Niece   Aunt   Polygamy/Polyamory   First   Oral Sex   Petting   Exhibitionism   Voyeurism   Slow   Violence   School   Nudism   Military  

Samantha dashed into the Navy command centre and demanded, "What's going on?" It was late, and ten minutes previously she had been peacefully asleep, snuggling with her mother, aunt, Thule's lone vet Victoria and Victoria's two children, all on her father's vast bed.

A Marine ensign turned to her, bleary-eyed and wearing his uniform as if he'd just put it on before he was fully awake. He had pulled it on before he was fully awake, but as a Marine he didn't have that excuse. He'd obviously, therefore, not been a Marine for very long. "There's something on the sensors – we're going to have company, and soon, and it isn't Confederacy. I've alerted the pilots in orbit."

"Great," muttered Samantha fiercely. "Who's the senior duty officer?"

"I am."

"Who is the senior officer on the planet?"

"By rank, me. By seniority, that would be you." He had the grace to blush. "I came out on the last transport. I haven't been fully trained yet – the rank's still provisional."

Samantha stared at him in shock, rapidly coming fully awake. "What other officers do we have available?"

The man confirmed her worst fears. "None. We're it. The Colonel and the Admiral called for an all-out effort."

"What defences have we got, anyway?"

"No ships. A platoon of armoured, none of whom have received any training on any tank, in fact they only just qualified on the RLI-1, and the highest rank there is a Lance Corporal, his rank is like mine: provisional. All the trained tankers are with the Fleet."

"Wonderful. Any more good news?"

"We also have six Star Arrows, their pilots are currently scrambling. A handful of Navy ratings, there's apparently some gunners there. We have some Starfighters, but no more pilots for them. Nothing else."

"What about equipment?"

Samantha's question would have to wait. A klaxon began blaring, and the emotionless voice of an AI began a repeated announcement, "Sa'arm ship detected in system. Sa'arm ship detected in system."

Another AI's voice – female this time, Samantha noted – broke in with, "Optio Redburn, according to Governor Deschenes' orders upon leaving the system for Hesperus, you are acting Governor."

"I recall receiving that notification," she confirmed.

"Your orders, Acting Governor?"

The young ensign made an "all yours" gesture to the young Civil Service cadet. Grimacing, she turned her attention to the AI. "As acting Governor, I am taking command of all Confederacy forces within the Thuleat system. I confirm that the Star Arrows are to continue their launch and intercept of the Sa'arm. Sitrep, please."

The ensign stared at her. "What's a 'sitrep'?" he demanded, again demonstrating he was green as grass.

The AI responded before Samantha could. "A 'sitrep' is a situation report. There is a single Sa'arm ship that has entered the system, a Venti class destroyer. It has apparently been damaged in battle, as it is leaving a trail of debris. It is making for Thule at best speed. All six Star Arrows have launched and are making for the Venti at full throttle."

For the next two hours, Samantha and the young man with her, as well as the Navy communications techs manning the consoles in Defence Control, waited sweating as the six two-man interceptors neared the rapidly-approaching destroyer. Finally, the speakers crackled with the professional but electrifying, "Visual on bandit."

The senior commander, a sergeant, continued calmly and coolly leading his men into battle – undoubtedly their first battle ever. "Tango team, this is Tango Leader. Tango Six on me. Tango Two and Four, head top. Tango Three and Five go for starboard low, I'll take port low."

Samantha found herself studying her fingernails. Odd the things you remembered when you were trying to distract yourself – she hadn't needed to cut them since she popped out of the med pod all those months ago in Earth orbit.

"Enemy point defence has opened up," reported the unknown Sergeant, still as calm as milk. "Increase evasive manoeuvres."

"I'm hit!" came the call.

"Roger, Tango Four. Set your ship to ram and evacuate."

"We're out of here. Controls destroyed." Pause. "We're back at base. Sorry we couldn't activate ramming."

"Roger, glad you're safe. Tango Two, take over. I've just lost atmosphere and horizontal stabilizers. Evacuating."

Then there were three, as Tango Five took direct hits that damaged its avionics packages. Another two crewmen found themselves reluctantly cooling their heels back aboard the orbital defence base.

The remaining trio broke into separate ships, spiralling toward the single destroyer in an effort to confuse its point-defence predictors. Tango Six took a shot that impacted an engine. White-hot shrapnel flew through the after half of the craft, and its pilot and weapons officer quickly punched the button to activate their nexuses. The craft joined its three sisters in becoming glowing fireballs.

That left Tango Two and Tango Three.

"It's been nice knowing you," the ensign beside Samantha told her.

"If you think I'm giving up, you don't know me," Samantha advised him savagely.

Tango Two: "Here he comes!"

Tango Three: "There he goes!"

"Missile away. Closing – missed," reported Tango Three.

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