The Collected Lancer Volume 1

by Troy Osgood

  “Twenty minutes,” I said and again all eyes were on me. “I assume you’re flying X-6932s as escort for a BT6894?”

  Both ships were built by the Castellans, the same as my own Nomad’s Wind. The BTs were bombers. Slow, heavily armored. The Xs were the standard starfighter used by the Expeditionary Forces.

  “Yes,” Yearly replied. “But the BTs are faster than you remember.”

  By his tone of voice, I knew he felt like he needed to defend his pilots and their ships. I was sure there had been some improvements in the five years since I had left the 2Es but there wouldn’t have been that much to shave time off. There was only so fast that a ship the size of a BT6894 Hammer could fly. Especially when it was loaded with bombs.

  “Eighteen minutes,” I said without a trace of sarcasm.

  “So fifteen,” Harrow said not having time for the Alpha Male pissing contest I had found myself in. “Size of the target zone?”

  “We’ll be carrying a load of plasma bombs,” Yearly answered. “2 tonners.”

  “Pretty much the whole rock is the target zone,” I said after running the numbers in my head. A full load in the Hammer’s bay for 2 ton plasma bombs. That was a lot of explosion.

  There would be nothing left of that rock.

  “Any further questions?,” Jessups asked the room.

  I managed to keep my mouth shut. I had always been sarcastic but it had only gotten worse in the last five years.

  Always had liked Jessups briefings. Short and to the point. There was only so much to go over. Plans were only good until the first plasma bolt was fired and after that they were useless. Jessups trusted his people to be able to improvise so his briefings gave just the right amount of information. The who, why, what, when, where and how.

  “The mission is straight forward,” Jessups said signaling to Gott to turn off the vidscreen. “Find the target, paint the target and destroy the target.”

  Simple but something would go wrong. It always did.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When we had first flown in I had wondered what the Kry heavy freighter was doing at the station. The only ship there. I found out pretty quickly when the mission launched.

  It was our transport.

  I didn’t get to see much of it. We entered through the airlock and inside the cargo hold was a 2E Assault Drop Ship. Harrow hustled us into the Drop Ship’s hold. There were a pilot and co-pilot for the Kry ship and a set for the Drop Ship. The only other people on board were Harrow, myself and her five Spec Ops commandos.

  One of which was a Europan.

  He had to duck to make it through the bulkheads. The Drop Ship was tight for normal sized humans. Not designed for taller and bulkier Europans. Made to sit twelve people and gear in the back, the GH-5971 was bulky. Another ship made by the Castellans, it was a box with jets and stubby wings. Two forward thrusters mounted on either side of the slightly sloping front. A thin view window at the top. The rest of the ship was the hold with two larger rotating thrusters mounted at the top. Small wings swept off from the front with small stabilizers in the back.

  Not fast, it was a tough ship. Heavily armored, lightly armed. The ship, nicknamed the Meteor, was designed to be carried close to a planet where it would live up to its name and drop to the surface to unload its cargo of soldiers. The nickname came from the speed and force which the ship would drop.

  No one would ever call riding in one comfortable. It was to get the soldiers to the surface safely, not in comfort. Besides angry and uncomfortable soldiers made better fighters.

  At least that’s what one of my old drill sergeants used to say.

  The Meteor, no specific name for this one and only a unit number that was not painted on the dull gray hull, took up most of the space in the decoy ship’s hold. Just enough space to squeeze by between both hulls. The freighter’s cargo doors weren’t big enough to get the drop ship out so I was curious how we’d get out into space.

  That part hadn’t been included in the mission briefing.

  Not my concern.

  I settled into my seat. Straight backed, barely any cushion, the bottom low to the ground so my knees were elevated. Pulling the crash webbing across my body, the whole thing started to feel familiar. Too familiar.

  The ship’s inside was just how I remembered. Six seats mounted to the hull along each side. Clear space down the middle. Handles hanging from the low ceiling. To my left was the hatch that went to the small cockpit and to the right was the hatch that opened to the outside.

  All of it in black.

  Lights blinked on some readouts across the exposed piping and conduit. The metal hull that I could feel against my back was cold. Just like I remembered.

  It actually wasn’t that bad. Of course we hadn’t left the space station yet. Had two couple hour hops to look forward to. It was going to be long and boring.

  I may not have been that uncomfortable but the Europan was.

  His seven foot long frame and width were too much for the small seats. He stretched out across the ship, parts on seats on either side of the hull. One of the other commandos helped him with the crash webbing. Once secure he shifted a bit and promptly fell asleep.

  The commando next to me caught me staring.

  “Ever seen one up close,” he asked me. His name was Derek Fortin.

  Bald, black eyes. About my height and size, a couple years younger.

  “Yeah,” I replied thinking of the time on Corric Station when my ship was almost stolen by a Europan and his human sister partners.

  “Took some getting used to,” Fortin said glancing over at the Europan. “When Treuto first started coming with us on missions but when we’re in a tight spot, glad to have him along.”

  I nodded remembering how strong and tough the race was. And those climbing claws they could unsteath were sharp. Europa, the largest moon of Jupiter in Earth’s Sol System, was a giant ball of ice. Hollow inside, the Europans lived in caves within the ice, using their claws to climb and tunnel.

  They cut through ice pretty easy. A human was a whole lot easier.

  The other three commandos were named Ryan Sweet, Mark Gilbert and Joe Carleton. None of them really talked or acknowledged me. Couldn’t blame them. I was the outsider and these Spec Ops squads were a pretty tight knit bunch.

  At least mine had been.

  I’d also been on a couple missions with tag-a-long consultants. They were never fun.

  “Feels like coming home,” I said trying to remind the soldiers that I used to be one of them.

  Nobody made a comment.

  At least I had tried.

  Harrow came into the hold from the cockpit where she had been talking with the pilots. She said down in the empty seat across from me, staring right at me. I smiled at her.

  “The Colonel said your rank was reinstated for the duration of this mission,” she said, loudly, so the others could hear. I saw one of the Europans eyes open and fixate on me. “So that means you outrank me but this is my mission.”

  I nodded.

  “It is,” I said getting that out of the way. I didn’t need Harrow worrying that I’d take over her mission. I had absolutely no desire for that. “I’m just along for the ride.”

  She looked at me for a minute before nodding.

  “We launch in five,” she told her squad.

  The Europan grunted and closed his eyes.

  *****

  I started out somewhat comfortable.

  That lasted about two minutes after we launched from the station.

  I could feel the vibrations of the freighter through the metal hull and up into my legs. Was this how new people felt on the Nomad’s Wind? Did they feel the vibrations and I was just used to it? I hoped not. My ship was a little beat-up, in need of constant repairs, but it was built better than that.

  Settling as best I could in the webbing, I closed my eyes. Besides Treuto, Fortin and Carleton had already fallen asleep. I used to be able to do that, but no longer. I’d gotten us
ed to the limited comforts of the Wind. It felt like the height of luxury compared to this.

  I couldn’t see the stars, which was the thing that felt the most off to me. I always looked out the Wind’s view window everytime I left a station or exited atmosphere of a planet. I wanted that view. I craved it.

  Undoing the crash webbing I stood up. Harrow barely spared me a glance, the others watching with curiosity. I didn’t care. I moved over to the hatch that led to the cockpit, hit the open button and slid into the cramped space.

  Two stations were at the front, open space between them, about a foot or two of clear space to stand behind. Pilot on the left and co-pilot on the right. Both of them looked back at me, surprised and questioning.

  “Need to see that,” I said and pointed at the thin strip of view window that was at their sitting eye level so I had to crouch a little.

  The drop ship was inside the hold of the larger freighter so most of the view was blocked but the maintenance techs had put some windows into the cargo hold to allow the drop ship pilots to get a view of space, so they would have some idea of what they were flying into.

  Through the drop ship window and the other window I could see the black of space with the millions of tiny white dots that were the stars. Just like when in the Wind, I felt a sense of calm come over me. The pilots must have recognized one of their own because neither said anything, just turned back to their controls.

  I stayed like that for a couple more minutes before returning to the hold.

  *****

  Usually the soldiers didn’t spend this much time in the cramped confines of a Rock drop ship. The carrier would fly into the system, get close to the planet, and then soldiers would get into the drop ships. At the most they spent half an hour or so in the small holds.

  Before this trip the longest I’d been in one had been an hour.

  Interestingly enough, it had been the last time I’d gone to the same asteroid. That mission we had taken the drop ship to the asteroid, following the Tiat supply ship. Well waiting we had stayed in the carrier ship hidden at the edges of the system.

  Periodically each of us would unhook from the webbing, which we really didn’t need to wear for now, just to stretch and get some circulation back in cramped muscles. Treuto also moved a couple of times. When that happened, the rest of us had to crowd near the front so the Europan could rotate his body as he couldn’t stand up fully.

  He hooted and grunted each time.

  I had never learned the Europan language. The species couldn’t speak Tradelan and most other species couldn’t speak Europan but could learn to understand it. Communication was key during missions. I wondered how it was handled between Harrow and the Europan.

  It was a couple hours later, I’d lost track, when the hatch slid open and the co-pilot stuck his head into the hold.

  “Just hit system,” he said and the hatch slid closed again.

  Harrow readjusted her crash webbing, tightening it. The others followed her lead, LaPlante helping Treuto. I did the same.

  Once settled we waited. For what I didn’t know.

  It was about an hour when the ship started to shake.

  The hatch slid open again.

  “Contact,” the co-pilot said.

  He kept the hatch open so we could hear what was coming through the comm connection with the freighter carrying us. It was one way. We could hear the freighter, they couldn’t hear or connect with us. A hard wire line, not broadcast. No signal to intercept.

  “Approaching ships identified as Tiat patrol ships. Three XTs.”

  The Expeditionary Forces knew what the Tiat called their various ships, what the names and classifications were, but it was of course in the Tiat’s own language. Our guys had just started giving them nicknames. XTs were the common fighters, called that because of the distinctive shape. The ship had a long and thin body, just wide enough for the pilot, that ended in a point at the front. In the rear it widened out with two engines mounted on either side of the body. That created the ‘T’ shape. The ‘X’ came from the four wings. Two coming off at angles from the top and another two at similar angles from the bottom. When one of them was coming towards you it looked like the letter X. From above it looked like a T.

  Never said the nicknames were clever.

  “Hailing.”

  We waited in silence. Couldn’t hear anything as the freighter’s co-pilot has disconnected the link to communicate with the Tiat patrol ships. He was probably being asked why a Kry freighter was so far out in the middle of nowhere. The Kry ship was a good choice.

  There were not many planets in the galaxy that considered themselves allies of the Tiat. And the Tiat were fine with that. They had their Empire, the largest in the known galaxy. The strongest too if being honest. It had taken the combined might of the Thesans and Terrans to hold off the Tiat in the Third Galactic War and then it was just barely. The list of planets that did not deal directly with the Tiat was pretty long. Much shorter were the ones that would deal with the Tiat. The Kry was one of those.

  Kry were business people first before anything else. They did not care about the war or which side was “right” since really no side was. They just wanted to turn a profit. So they did business with the Tiat.

  Seeing a Kry ship in Tiat space wasn’t unusual. Seeing one coming in from this direction was.

  “Let’s hope they buy the cover story,” Harrow said quietly.

  I wanted to make a sarcastic comment but it really wasn’t the time. My old unit, it would have been a race to see which one of us made a comment first. But this wasn’t my unit and I didn’t know the dynamics of the squad.

  “Hope you’re all strapped in,” the co-pilots voice came back. “Going to get bumpy.”

  Guess that meant the Tiat hadn’t bought the story.

  Probably thought the Kry were smugglers.

  Or just didn’t want intruders in this system.

  Either way this mission had just hit its first snag.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Part of me was worried that this was the end, for the mission and myself.

  But I’d been in enough of these tight spots to know that there was always a way out. Any mission, pretty much every second was walking along that thin line between failure and success. This was no different.

  The mission planners back on Rewe Station would have thought about this scenario and come up with a way to make it work.

  We just had to survive long enough for it to work.

  It was a bumpy ride.

  The freighter lurched back and forth, up and down, as the pilot kept the ship moving erratically. The only way to avoid laser lock. I don’t know much about ship to ship combat in the void of space. I was a ground pounder even though I was a decent enough pilot now. I’d never flown a combat ship but I knew the basics.

  The vidshows liked to show space combat as ships swooping and diving, barrel rolling around the enemy. It really wasn’t like that. Mostly it was boring.

  But from inside the hold of the drop ship, I had no idea what was happening and it was frustrating.

  The movements of the freighter were not that violent considering how much the ship was moving. The inertial compensators were working overtime. We were still being thrown around but not as bad as it could have been. I felt bad for Treuto and the way he was forced to sit. The lurching would be worse on him. He’d feel every movement. Glancing at the Europan, he didn’t appear bothered.

  When we arrived in the system, the goal was to get as close to the asteroid belt as the pilot could and then launch the drop ship. We had to hope that the pilot was still heading in that direction. To the pursuing Tiat, it would make sense. Under constant barrage, there wouldn’t be an opportunity for the ship to hop into wild space. The navcom wouldn’t be able to make the calculations. The only option would be to head in-system and find a way to hold off the Tiat long enough for the navcom to compensate for the erratic movements and plot a hop.

  That would bring us
closer to the asteroid belt.

  The race was on and we would probably lose.

  Starfighters have the advantage of freighters in speed and maneuverability. They may not move like in the vids, but they can still move better than bulky freighters. Three of the Tiat XTs and sooner, rather than later, one of them was bound to make a direct hit.

  “Get ready,” the freighter’s co-pilots voice said over the link.

  Ready for what? I hadn’t been briefed on the insertion scenario, how we would get from the freighter to the asteroid belt, but I had an idea. I’d run quite a few missions like this back in the day.

  The trick was older than I was. Probably older than Colonel Jessups.

  “Do we really think the Tiat will fall for this,” I asked no one, just said it outloud.

  Next to me Fortin laughed.

  “I said the same thing,” he remarked.

  “Stow it,” Harrow said.

  I would have shrugged if I could have in the crash webbing.

  We all felt the sharp turn the freighter took, pushing us against the webbing that fought to hold us still. The pilot had shifted to take a parallel course to the belt. The ship bucked even more now. Besides the side to side movement, there was a pushing as the gravity of the asteroids themselves acted against the ship. Singularly there wasn’t that much gravity to an asteroid, nowhere near enough to push a ship. But a belt was different. So many together generated quite a lot of gravity. Especially around the edges of the belt.

  “Good luck,” the co-pilots voice said.

  “You too,” our co-pilot replied and the door between us slid shut.

  I grabbed the webbing with both hands, crossing over my body, and braced myself.

  There was an audible sound, a whooshing as the air was sucked out of the ship and into the void. A cracking of metal with multiple small explosions. We only heard it because of the atmosphere that remained in the freighter, just enough to bounce sound.

  I felt the drop ship falling backwards any noise lost to the void.

  Picturing what was happening in my mind, I saw the front half of the freighter falling away as the rear half with us in it continued. The engines were on our end, so the thrusters would push as forward until they ran out of fuel or fell apart. The cockpit in the front half would spin and spin, unable to stop.