“It would be alarming,” Char quipped over the klaxons.
Three flights of stairs, then through the hatch to the bridge, where the crew seemed calm. Systems was heavily occupied, while Clifton casually tapped the screen at the pilot’s position. TH looked up at the captain, who was sitting cross-legged in the chair on the raised dais at the back of the bridge.
Terry gestured toward Micky.
“An unmanned Harborian ship has exploded,” the skipper stated, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
“They weren’t built the best. I’m surprised one hasn’t exploded before now. That’s why we only have ten percent manned—ones that have already had their major systems upgraded to the minimum standard of not killing the crew.” Terry relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief.
“Shonna and Merrit think it hit a mine.”
Terry’s expression turned grim and he clenched his teeth. He looked at Char, who scowled darkly. Nothing was more terrifying than getting blown up during the simple act of going from one place to another.
“When will we know for sure?” Terry asked.
“Dionysus is working on it now, using the combined fleet’s assets to scan the space in and around the shipyard.”
“The board is green,” Smedley remarked, confirming that all hands were in their shipsuits and at their designated posts.
Terry’s mind raced, and as was his way, he started to pace, moving to the front of the bridge where he had an up close and personal view of the main screen.
Char remained near the captain, checking off a mental list of where the members of her pack were. Shonna and Merrit were running the shipyard while Sue and Timmons were building the raw materials extraction team operating out of the nearby asteroid field. She wasn’t sure if they had gone out that far or stopped in Spires Harbor.
Cory was back on board the War Axe, as were Christina, Kai, Aaron, Yanmei, Joseph, and Petricia. All accounted for.
“Please prep the Black Eagles,” Micky ordered. The weretigers Aaron and Yanmei were probably already there. They’d picked up a replacement for the one Aaron had sacrificed to destroy the evil AI called Ten. He hadn’t been gun-shy about returning to the cockpit. He seemed nonplussed about it, enjoying the freedom of flying in space. The replacement was an older variant of the already aged fighters.
Yanmei wouldn’t let him in hers, calling it bad luck.
“Underway,” Aaron reported directly to the bridge over the fighter’s comm system. “Can I ask what our mission might be?”
Micky tapped the button on his console to activate the ship-wide broadcast.
“Attention all hands, this is your captain speaking.” Micky took a deep breath and shaped his thoughts in the hope that he’d be informative and not alarming. “One of the unmanned ships in Spires Harbor has exploded, possibly from impacting a mine. All ships in the area are on high alert and searching. Mines are unconfirmed at this time, but better to be ready than be caught with our pants around our ankles.”
“Nice visual, Skipper,” Terry said, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Now we wait.”
He didn’t know how often he’d be forced into that very same course of action over the next day.
“The enemy fleet has gone to full alert, Lord Mantis,” the pilot reported.
Tell me something I don’t know, the commander thought. “When will the mines be ready?”
“The first ten have had grapples installed, Lord Mantis,” the weapons specialist replied.
“Prepare to launch on my order.”
The Myriador crew scrambled to move the ten mines with the magnetic grapples into the launch tube. They’d reload after the first mines were deployed. He prayed to Myr that he’d have enough time to get the next ten done, and the ten after that. If he wasn’t ready to reload when the time came, he might as well climb into the tube himself.
The gods were unrelenting, as were ship’s commanders, dealing with failure in the harshest way.
“Inconclusive?” Shonna blurted. “How can all that data be inconclusive?”
“Because it is,” Dionysus replied. “I cannot substantiate the existence of mines. Can you recover material from the destroyed ship, specifically anything close to the first explosion?”
Merrit looked at the screen showing a massive cloud of tiny particles spreading across thousands of cubic kilometers.
“We’ll do our best,” he said softly. “Engage the drive and parallel the explosion’s vector.”
“Engaged,” the Pod replied.
“I better let the fleet know,” Shonna suggested, hesitating before activating the comm links to Spires Harbor and the War Axe. “Ships don’t just blow up.”
“I know. I hope we find something. This isn’t a mystery I like having unsolved.” The Pod started moving toward a fleeing band of bits and pieces. “My butthole is going to pucker anytime we’re out here until I know for sure.”
Shonna nodded. “Attention Bad Company personnel, this is Shonna and Merrit, exploring the wreckage of Frigate 471. Dionysus has not been able to reach a conclusion regarding the existence of a mine. Recommend we stand down from the emergency condition. We’ll continue to gather debris for analysis.”
“Fuck that,” TH stated, pounding his fist into his hand. “I thought the Harborian ships weren’t built well, but that one wasn’t doing anything. It wouldn’t just blow up. What happened?”
“I have to stand us down,” Micky remarked, not answering Terry Henry’s question. “All hands, stand down from General Quarters. Resume normal watch. Captain San Marino out.”
Christina, can you get the unit ready for mech drills in space?
I wondered when you were going to ask.
Terry clasped his hands behind his back and studied the main viewscreen. “Smedley, please gather the Bad Company on the hangar deck. We need to run some exercises. We’re going to take our armored suits into space.”
“Aye, aye, Colonel,” Smedley replied sharply.
“Micky, do you need us to do any work for you while we’re out there?”
“We’re good, TH. Don’t go too far away, and keep your eyes peeled, just in case there might be an errant mine from a war long past floating around in the void of space.”
“Smedley, what’s the possibility that a mine followed a cargo ship through a Gate and then disengaged to float free until it hit something?”
“The probability is not zero,” the AI admitted.
“Gotta love the math,” Terry grumbled.
“I could have told you that,” Char said as Terry approached on his way off the bridge.
“Shall we?”
“Nothing like the sweaty smell of a mech.” Char led the way out.
“Don’t you take care of yours?” Terry wondered.
“Mine is the swing suit. Anyone whose armor is getting repaired or having preventive maintenance done grabs mine for training.”
“That isn’t right.”
“I’m okay with it since we only have one suit per person.”
“I know that, but what isn’t right is that they don’t clean it out after using it. I’m going to tear someone a new asshole. My sweat is the only sweat you have to put up with!” he declared.
“Oh, really?”
“You were the one who climbed into my bed all those years ago, you and your swishy tail and blast-furnace body. Even Clyde was cool compared to you.”
“Would you acclimate already?” Char told him as they walked quickly toward the stairs. “It’s been forever. If you wouldn’t stay out all night training, maybe you’d get used to my hotness.”
“You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“Onyx Station. Spa holiday. Cory and I enjoying some downtime.”
“Once we figure out what’s going on here. My gut is telling me something bad is coming.”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this one either.”
“Is that the Etheric speaking?” Terry asked.
“I don’t u
se that enough,” Char admitted. “I’ll head to our quarters and the peace and quiet to see if there is anything out there.”
Char dodged out of the stairwell, and Terry Henry continued toward the hangar. He wanted to talk to Joseph and Petricia. They were the most sensitive.
“The alert has been canceled,” Bundin told his squad. None of them had been aware that there had been an alert in the first place. It had taken the Podder that long to get to their quarters. He had been busy mapping out the next series of exercises while the others slept.
Bon Tap ran a hand through his fantastic silver mane, and K’Thrall’s mandibles clicked his displeasure.
“Why can’t we hear directly from the ship?” the Yollin complained.
“Colonel’s direction. It’s to prepare you to take orders via the chain of command.”
“But a delay like that could be deadly. Why didn’t you use the internal comm?”
“Next time, I will,” Bundin replied.
Bon Tap helped Slikira to her feet, her spider-eyes catching the light to create a multi-pupiled rainbow. B’Ichi appeared, wearing a heavy parka to protect against the cold of human temperatures. Chris slapped him on the back as he walked by.
“So, we missed the emergency. It’s like it never happened. What next, Bundin?” he asked happily.
“We drill,” the squad leader replied.
“Who would have thought that?” Chris shot back, grinning. “What was the emergency, anyway?”
“A Harborian ship exploded.”
The happiness faded from Chris’ face. “Anyone lost?”
“It was one of the unmanned vessels at the edge of the fleet’s open-space berthing.”
Chris was relieved, his concern for his fellows addressed. It was no longer important to him. “So, when’s chow?”
“Now?” Slikira added hopefully. Her metabolism required a great deal of sustenance. The Yollin did, too, and he nodded in agreement.
“Now is good.”
“Do you people think of nothing else?” Bundin asked, waving his tentacle arms in dismay at the single-mindedness of his squad.
“Train hard, eat fast, and sleep when you can,” Chris offered, which was part of the Bad Company’s mantra. When Colonel Walton had first heard it, he’d beamed with pride and told them that he couldn’t have said it better.
“Yes, yes. Go eat your breakfast,” Bundin conceded. He only needed to eat once a week, so he considered the other races’ proclivity towards frequent and abundant meals to be a significant shortcoming.
“Woohoo!” Bon Tap whooped, and the five squad members ran into each other as they forced their way through the door and into the hallway. They were gone without further incident.
The Podder watched the door as if they’d pile back through at any moment, having inhaled their meals. But they didn’t. Running, it would take them two minutes to get to the mess deck. He’d have at least ten minutes, and maybe as many as twenty before they reappeared and were ready to take a nap.
“I shall strive to understand you,” he told the emptiness, “but I fear I never will.”
Chapter Four
When Terry Henry burst onto the hangar deck, he found Christina by herself where the company usually stood in formation. Terry made a beeline toward her. She smiled as he approached, and pointed toward the cargo door that led to where the mech suits were stored and maintained.
The colonel slowed and returned her smile. “Good.”
“They’ll be ready soon,” she replied. “Are you going to suit up?”
“Damn straight. All of us.”
Cory appeared, shaking her head. “Not me.”
“Except Cory.”
Aaron and Yanmei waved from the back of the hangar bay, and Terry reversed course and strode toward the two Black Eagles and their weretiger pilots.
“Are we going to war, Master Terry?” Aaron asked with undue formality.
“What makes you ask that?”
“Alarms and cryptic reports. Are there mines or not? Is there an enemy lurking or not? Enquiring minds want—no, need—to know!” Aaron flailed his long and gangly arms for added emphasis. Yanmei shrugged off the conversation.
“I don’t know, but I’m not too keen on getting caught unprepared. I want a way to fight back, just in case.”
“Of course, you do,” Aaron agreed. “How long are we on standby with the birds?”
“Maybe fly cover while we have the mechs outside training?”
Aaron nodded his agreement as the first mech-suited warrior clumped onto the hangar deck, followed closely by a second and third. Soon enough, forty-four warriors stood in formation. Christina hurried into the storage hold to change. Kai leaned casually in the doorway next to Cory. The last ones to join the company were the vampires, Joseph and Petricia.
Joseph waggled the mech’s fingers at the group. Terry walked briskly toward them, hoping they’d be able to help Char. As for the rest of the Bad Company, Terry wanted fifty pairs of eyes outside the ship, looking for anything odd.
But all he really needed was one mind’s eye searching through the Etheric to see what couldn’t be seen.
TH, there’s an alien ship out there, and they are hunting us, Char reported.
“Stay inside the ship!” Terry shouted as he ran for the doorway.
“Does that mean us too?” Aaron asked. Yanmei shrugged, but climbed into her Black Eagle and started running through the pre-flight checklist. Aaron followed her lead. One never knew when Terry Henry would order the unit into action.
Judging by his rapid departure, it could happen at any moment.
Lord Mantis studied the board as his ship, Traxinstall held its position, making itself a hole in the fabric of space. It was invisible to the point that the stars shone through. He didn’t waste any thought on what he knew.
He was fully immersed in the battle to come. Too many enemies and not enough weapons. Funnel the ships into the mines and keep them guessing; maybe get their ships to shoot each other as the ghost taunted them into recklessness. Explosions with massive secondaries. That was what he needed.
Expel the aliens. Preserve the sanctity of Myr’s space. For the glory of Myriador.
Grapple mines. He had fifty to deliver precisely on target. One mine, one kill.
If only... The mines had to be delivered precisely at the most vulnerable points of the enemy ships. The commander didn’t know where those were, not without scanning. And he couldn’t fire up the systems because they’d give his position away. Back to guessing.
“Bring me the weapons specialist,” he ordered no one in particular. Two crew jumped to their feet before quickly deciding that the closest to the hatch should run.
When they were under the cloak of the shield, they avoided internal communications systems, even though sound didn’t travel through the near-vacuum of space. He took no chances. He didn’t fly four years to take unnecessary risks.
He had to survive the mission. The glory of Myriador was more than a pat phrase, it was an honor and a privilege that only a very few were awarded. It was so rare that they had stopped giving it to the planet’s kings. The glory was reserved for those who had risked all to save all.
Mantis had positioned himself to get this mission, and it had become more than he could have hoped for. Over the next few days, he would earn the glory, or he and his crew would be dead.
He shook his head to clear it of errant thoughts. Such a descent into self-love would ensure his demise. The enemy—they had infested the Dren Cluster, and deserved to pay for their transgressions. He’d kill them all, and take their Gate drives.
He’d destroy the massive Gate standing nearby to prevent reinforcements from arriving.
The out-of-breath weapons specialist appeared, his features haggard and his fingertips bleeding from his work on the magnetic grapples. “Yes, my Lord,” he said, bowing his head. Being summoned to the bridge was never a good thing.
“I need your expertise,” he said softl
y, as if not wanting the others to hear. “We only get one shot with each of the mines. Where are the most vulnerable locations on the enemy ships?”
The weapons specialist’s heart pounded with relief. He had done nothing wrong, but it took him a moment to get past that and start looking at the problem. The commander grew impatient with the delay, and the specialist decided he’d talk through the problem. “I counted at least twenty unique ship designs. They have many similarities, but key differences as well. The ship that floated into the mine impacted it toward the propulsion end, but not at the exhaust ports. I will have to assume that their fuel is stored near the engines, making their ships fallible and vulnerable. That is where we should target our mines—the space where the fuel is stored—to deliver catastrophic damage with a single explosion.”
Lord Mantis stared at his weapons specialist. “I had already reached that conclusion, but the designs are unique enough that we must have a targeting solution for every ship design—all twenty of them plus the physical Gate, and that heavy bastard that looks nothing like the others.”
“I will have to study the Gate more thoroughly to determine its weaknesses. It won’t have propulsion and a fuel source like the ships.” The specialist started inching toward his station, torn between returning to the modification work belowdecks and his new task. “I will get you the targeting solutions before we drop the first mine, Lord Mantis.”
“As soon as you can.” With a hand wave, the leader dismissed the specialist.
Thirteen of the mines had been reconfigured and modified, and thirty-seven remained. Katamara hoped those working on them would get them done by the time he finished pinpointing the most vulnerable points. He would make sure of it. Once the shooting started, he wouldn’t be able to leave his console, and those working below would have other more compelling tasks.
They needed to finish. He manipulated the top of his console with his middle hand, while his other two arms worked at the globe interface. Images and data appeared before him and he started his analysis, knowing that he would be mostly guessing. Not using the sensors was limiting. He started to sweat even though the bridge was kept cool to allow the technology to perform optimally.
Destroyer: A Military Space Opera (The Bad Company Book 5) Page 3