“Ready.”
“Fire.”
Danny watched as the bolts of plasma traversed the intervening space and vanished into the dock, lighting up the interior spectacularly. Plasma bolts and beams engulfed the huge ship as she desperately tried to manoeuvre out of danger. A fire erupted in the repair bay, and a great flare burst out of the open doors, evidence of an escape of oxygen and fuel.
“Cease fire!” The command rang through the Centre. “They’re abandoning her. Well done, Mr. Gunn, your batteries found her liquid oxygen tanks. She’s a dead ship now. All batteries, shift target — we’re engaging the lead cruiser next.”
Outgunned, the escort cruisers broke off the engagement and vanished into transit. “Secure the batteries.” The order was matter of fact. Danny watched on-screen as the ship launched barges and other small craft to recover survivors from the rapidly disintegrating repair ship.
“Well done,” the Weapons Commander called out. “Great shooting, guys. That’s one less problem for us to worry about and one more for the Cons.”
The Consortium’s AI monitors learned Harry’s manoeuvres and reprogrammed themselves to trace every attempt at access. In return, he monitored their activity and altered his accordingly. It was extremely useful being able to hear the enemy’s plans and movements, but also frustrating because he could not access their off-world communications. Those had been very effectively isolated, probably on the assumption that he and Ferghal were able to send messages to their Fleet commanders.
“I do not know how much longer I will be able to escape their traces,” he told Ferghal. “They have come close to finding my entry link. Only the Provider has prevented their discovering it so far. For now, I have to be content to listen to their plans and spoil what I can.” He grinned. “Here’s a bit of fun for you. I found Dr. Wan’s research on you and replaced it with all the tales of Fion MacCumhaill that I can recall. I hope he enjoys it.”
This elicited the laugh from Ferghal that he was hoping for. Stretching his arms and flexing his shoulders, he said, “What have you there?”
Ferghal stood and said, “Here’s a bit of fun for you.” He shook out a folded silver-grey garment, swept it over his shoulders, and wrapped it around himself.
“A gift from the Council of Leaders, one of their special cloaks. There’s one for you too.” Grinning, Ferghal said, “Now you see me.” His grin widened. “And now you don’t!”
Harry laughed as Ferghal’s body vanished, leaving only his disembodied head visible — nothing but a mass of thick red hair, two blue eyes, and a wide grin. “It doesn’t quite work as well you might think, Ferghal, unless you’ve a desire to emulate some phantom of legend. I wonder if they have Halloween on this planet?” They both laughed at that wisecrack, and Harry asked, “How does it function?”
“Now that, my friend, is the secret.” Ferghal took a stance and launched into his best salesman’s voice. “The fibre is made from the silk of a moth native to this place. It bends the light and deceives the eye of the beholder. An onlooker sees everything around it, and but does not perceive the cape itself or the wearer. How many would you like to order today, good sir?”
Harry laughed again and walked round Ferghal, examining the cape in detail. “Astonishing, and very useful. The Council gave you this?”
“Yes, and several more. Enough for a few of us to accompany their raiders undetected. They are very valuable and only given to a select few. There is one other feature — it only works in contact with our Canid garments. To any other user it is no more than a cloak.”
“That explains why our pursuers have not found the means to counter it, or understood its function.” Harry smiled. “We have an advantage we did not appreciate, my friend. Now to find the opportunity to exploit it.”
Chapter 22 — Juggernaut
Opportunity, Harry believed, was what you wanted it to be, or when you created it. Having studied his enemy’s dispositions and the scattered nature of their operations, his next move was to intensify the raids and capture more of the Consortium’s weapons. This plan was not without risk, but that had never stopped him before, and now Ferghal was back with them. The two of them together, with this fine team, were an unstoppable force.
He grinned as he looked at his assembled squad. The human element was almost indistinguishable from the Canids except in size and carriage. Like Harry, their hair had grown long, and the men all had beards. Careful styling made them appear, to a casual observer, like their hosts the Canids. Even the Coxswain’s balding pate now had the characteristic mane and ear tufts of a Canid. He suppressed a laugh when he thought of his girlfriend, and wondered what she would make of his wild scruffy appearance.
“I have seldom seen so despicable a collection of irregulars,” Harry told them. “Our appearance is probably enough to frighten our opponents to death — if our phantom visitors don’t.”
“I have to agree that this lot are pretty despicable,” the Coxswain growled. “I wouldn’t want to have to stand down wind of ‘em or get too close in a fight.”
“I fink the Swain says we stink, sir,” Jim Stennet quipped. The youngest member of the crew except for Harry, he had proved very adept with loading and firing the mortar tubes. He sniffed his underarms and added, “An’ ‘e’s right!”
“Speak for yourselves,” said Maddie with a cheeky grin. “We women think of these things, even when we have to pack in a hurry to catch a launch to nowhere in five minutes. But I’m not sharing my precious deodorant stick and shampoo with you filthy lot, so don’t even ask!”
They all laughed at that remark, and Harry grinned as Rasmus got in a comment. “Heron’s Hellions. That’s who we are now.”
“Very well, if we must give ourselves a name, that’s as good as any.” He nodded. “Right, it is time we were on our way. Have we all the equipment we need for this excursion? You have the rockets, Ferghal? And your section have the mortars and the mines, Mr. Winstanley?”
“Yes, sir,” the Coxswain confirmed and Ferghal nodded.
“Very good. We will deploy as I have outlined. Mr. Winstanley, your team will move in as close as possible to fire on the guard. We wish to cause disruption and to divert their attention from the magazines. Ferghal, you and your team seize the summit and prepare to fire on any aerial craft that attempt to close us.”
“We will do our best to distract them,” Ferghal responded.
Harry nodded. “Remember, this is a small outpost, lightly manned, but it has much we can make good use of. We want their transport and their weapons. Once your mortars commence, Mr. Winstanley, my team will infiltrate the disengaged side and secure the stores we need. Watch for my signal for the cessation of firing — I will fire a port fire to signal my intentions. Blue smoke to retreat, red to cease firing and join me.” He felt pleased with himself. The plan was an excellent one, and the attack would be supported by Grakuna and Rathol, the latter having been won over by Harry’s careful tact and diplomacy, and by their grudging respect for his courage in standing up to his enemies.
This assault on a Consortium outpost was the result of Harry’s exploration of the Base computer and the military communications network it supported. He had chosen this outpost because it was lightly manned and defended and a considerable distance from any of the node cities that might suffer from retaliation. His listening to the Base AI had paid off. He now had a clear idea of the troop deployments, strengths and search orders. He’d also learned of this small depot and rest station, which occasionally housed some of their colleagues.
His intention was to attempt to capture more weapons with which to supplement their homemade bombs, mortars and rockets, and some med-units. They needed the weapons to counter the Consortium’s aerial craft and allow them to meet the enemy on more equal terms.
“I suggest an amendment, Harry.” Ferghal spoke up. “Let my batteries remain apart until you have retreated to safety. Then, if their aerials should intervene, we may
yet drive them away and avoid their seeing anything we do not wish them to.”
The Coxswain nodded. “That makes sense, sir. Better to have the ability to scare off any intervention before they can see what we’re doing.”
“Very well, make it so.” Harry glanced at each of his crew in turn. “Everyone ready? Good. Let’s get into position and prepare for our attack. I wish to strike as soon as they go to their breakfast. Speaking of, they probably won’t like it today.” He paused for effect. “I programmed liquid soap to be added to their food replicators. They might spend the morning in the — what do you call them?”
“The port-a-loos!” the others said in unison, and everyone burst out laughing, and after a round of rowdy chatter to ease the tension, they got into position to wreak havoc on the enemy.
Checking the dispositions of his people, Harry considered his next move. The early light was enough to distinguish the terrain, and they had reconnoitered the ground and prepared a way through which they could seek cover. The changing light and the colour contrasts caught his artist’s eye, and he wished he had time to sit and paint the scene before him.
Dismissing the idea, he focused on the task in hand. The Coxswain’s mortars were in position and the ranges checked against where they would land on the commissariat and sleeping quarters, and the surrounding area. His interference with the automated defence system at the laboratory had resulted in this being detached from the AI systems, and now it was directed manually.
Catching a movement near the perimeter, he saw the signal he hoped for. The charges had been placed beneath the electronic barrier projectors. This meant getting very close to the perimeter and risking triggering an alarm, but several cloaked Canids achieved that with no problem.
The second part of his team was well concealed and would emerge once the Coxswain and his team had the Consortium troops pinned down. Harry’s group was in place ready to storm the weapons store, their primary target. It was a risky plan, but the terrain worked in their favour, and he hoped to block any Consortium signal to reinforce their troops before he neutralised his team’s initial target.
A final check confirmed his lookouts were in position. Ferghal was ready to fire the placed charges and take care of their rocket battery. Abram Winstanley and his assault team were poised for action. Behind him, his own team waited to rush the armoury. It would be a close contest, but he knew their explosives would be sufficiently unfamiliar to the enemy to cause confusion.
They might have a problem if the garrison called in air support. Their anti-air rockets were little more than dangerous fireworks. Though unlikely to do more than make their enemy wary of approaching too closely, he hoped they would deter any attempt to intervene.
The increasing light from the rising bluish sun threw a harsh glare across the landscape. From his concealment Harry watched as the guards changed and dispersed to their guardroom and then, to their commissariat.
“Signalman, make Commence to Mr. O’Connor and the Coxswain, please.”
Grinning, Maddie stood, got a ‘ready’ response of a single exposed flag from both, and quickly sent the alphanumeric code for the Commence signal.
Diving into cover next to Harry, she called, “This is much more fun than my usual Coms role, sir. Pity we can’t use this semaphore aloft!”
The reply was a satisfying thump from the first mortar, the subsequent ones almost drowned out by the roar as the placed charges detonated sending fragments of the perimeter projectors hurtling skyward.
Harry laughed, despite his tension. It was a glorious sight. As the mortar bombs began to land, some exploding above the ground and others detonating on it, he stood. “Follow me,” he ordered. “Hodges, stay close. The rest of you know what to do. We go in fast on the blind side, get what we came for, and get out.”
The mixed group of Canids and humans acknowledged his order, drew their cloaks around them, and vanished. Keeping to cover, Harry led the way down the slope.
The mortars were causing mayhem. The position in which the shells exploded made little difference as the shrapnel, stones and debris hurled out or upward, flung in all directions by the bursting bombs, perforating the commissariat and the barrack domes. Men emerged from the structures, some obviously roused from their beds, some falling under the hail of shrapnel or diving for cover.
At the perimeter they removed their cloaks, a move Harry felt necessary to ensure they did not run into each other. Racing forward, their weapons ready, they focused on their objective. Members of the team peeled aside to plant their bombs on the emplaced weapons defending the perimeter and just coming into action.
A guard, who had been facing the assault on the far side of the camp, turned and saw them. Raising his weapon, he fired at one of the attackers, and missed. Dropping to one knee, Errol Hill fired a tube-launched rocket from his shoulder at the armoured man. Whether because he did not realise what the weapon was or had not recognised it as a threat, the man made the mistake of remaining upright and attempting to sight his weapon on another of the figures running toward him.
The rocket struck him on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground. That saved him further injury as it careened between the domes then burst, perforating the structures around it.
Harry reached his objective and found, to his relief, the lock could be operated by his cyberlink. His team began to strip out the weapons they could carry. Others gathered equipment and stores they needed.
“Stennet, place the charges then go!” Harry ordered. “Take the things you can carry with you. I’ll fire the fuse as soon as you are clear.”
“Done, sir,” the young TechRate called, gathering up a heavy plasma projector and several smaller weapons in a container. His arms loaded, he staggered-ran for the door and hurled himself after his companions.
Harry lit the fuse, gathered the bundle of weapons, and bolted out of there.
Sprinting for the cover of the escape path he was surprised to see several vehicles approaching along the track. A burst of plasma on the path ahead of him made him change direction and lent speed to his legs as he ran for the cover of the narrow cleft in the rocky hillside. Behind him, the armoury erupted, the crude charges sending chunks of the dome and its contents high into the air.
“All units — close up on the Camp. Prisoner transports, withdraw and fall back to allow Units Two and Three to close up.” The Captain’s orders were rapid, his attention on the figure running diagonally toward them. “Gunner, target that man!”
The operator trained his turret weapon to track Harry, his automatic targeting system, designed to target stationary or very fast moving objects, refusing to lock onto the weaving figure. With attention focused on trying to obtain a clear lock, the operator failed to see the object that flew toward the open-topped vehicle in a high arc trailing a thin stream of smoke.
The Commander did see it, but failed to recognise it — until it burst above and slightly beyond their vehicle. The shower of fragments and small stones with which it had been filled smashed into the vehicle’s top, sides and exposed equipment. A stone smashed the visor of the turret operator and caused him to stab the firing command key. This, in turn, sent a blast of plasma searing past Harry as he plunged through the gap in the outcrop, tripped and fell flat.
That saved him. A little to one side of Harry, Maddie noticed a pair of troopers trying to cut Harry off. Dropping her flags, she snatched up her rocket tube, loaded it, took aim and launched it, then loaded another and sent it at the second man. Without waiting to see the effect, she grabbed her flags and ran to where Harry was grabbing the fallen weapons.
“Come on, sir. Some of the bastards are ahead of us.”
Behind Harry, a second grenade burst inside the vehicle closest to him with devastating effect, but now, the second, third and fourth vehicles were deploying and bringing their turret weapons to bear. Warned by the burning lead vehicle, whose surviving crew were struggling clear, they belatedly clos
ed their upper hatches.
From his hilltop vantage point, Ferghal watched in mounting frustration as more vehicles joined the first group. Troopers began to spill from these, deploying rapidly to pin down Harry’s team as they scrambled for cover. Trapped, Harry signalled his people to use their recently captured weapons then showed the way.
Using the shoulder-launched projector, he disabled a vehicle and sent the troopers racing for cover. A hail of grenades flushed these men and several more he had not seen on his flank into a rapid retreat, and he made a run for new cover to join the rest of his small team in their escape route.
“Quick!” Ferghal ordered, when he saw Harry’s predicament. “Adjust the launchers to fire down the slope. The projectiles will cause them damage even if they do not burst as planned.”
His team leapt into action. Raising the base of the tube to his shoulder and aiming the device at a vehicle, TechRate Brydges lit the fuse. He yelped as the rocket erupted, the wash of burning sparks and the acrid smoke engulfing him as it did so.
The effect on the troops below was dramatic. The missile arrived trailing fire, struck the ground en route, and lifted to soar into the centre of a group of troopers crouching behind a rocky outcrop.
The explosion threw two of the troopers over the outcrop and killed two more outright, leaving the rest bleeding from their wounds. The survivors looked round in desperation to determine where this new attack was coming from, just in time to see another of these lethal projectiles land. It struck a vehicle and fell to the ground, hissing viciously and still in motion as it slid about erratically. The motion ceased as the rocket ran to an end.
There was a moment of silence and then a flash and bang that rocked the nearest vehicles and showered a large area in debris and lethal shrapnel.
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