Salvage Fleet

by Kevin Steverson

  Harmon watched through the video relays as the teams ascended, something he would have never attempted without a mech. They rarely had to stop and use any of the climbing equipment; they found finger and toe holds where Harmon swore there were none, even after zooming his camera in on the wall.

  “Aye, and we’ll be up top in less than an hour,” Captain Rogers announced. There had been no way he was going to stay behind and miss the fight. One very unhappy executive officer had been voluntold that he was staying behind in charge of Basher. “’Tis but a training climb.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Sergeant Stump Elton, Basher’s chief of security, said. “But let’s see if it remains a training mission when we reach the top. I’m thinking we’ll be able to get a little workout in.”

  True to the Rincah captain’s word, fifty-five minutes later, they reach the top. Sergeant Elton secured himself with a couple of pitons driven into the cliff wall, pulled a small droid from a pouch, and turned it on. The top part of the marble-sized ball lifted, started spinning, and fanned out into eight small blades. The ball lifted from his hand and hovered, waiting for directions from his small slate. He sent it up over the edge so he could get a good look around.

  Harmon was able to see what the sergeant saw on his small screen due to the uplink. The rear wall of the military installation was twenty yards away. It stretched several hundred yards in both directions. The base on top of the plateau had been built with its back against the sheer dropoff. Harmon knew the installation covered four hundred yards toward the center of the plateau.

  On the far side of the plateau, there were several wooded areas beyond the landing pads. There were no roads up through the mountains to the facility. The Plateau only had one way to access it—ships landing on the landing pad. That, or a drop with mechs. Harmon’s original plan had been to drop in on the other side of the woods and make their way to the walled-in installation. As the drone moved up the wall and gave them a look into the compound, Harmon noticed that all of the turrets on the wall, and some on the buildings, were facing the other direction. It was almost as if they expected an attack from that side of the plateau.

  “You seeing this?” Clip asked.

  “I see it,” Harmon answered. “Someone talked.”

  “Jayneen, use the satellites and zoom in on the woods,” Harmon asked. “Do you see anything that shouldn’t be there?”

  “I do,” the AI answered after a slight hesitation. “There are several camouflaged positions the size of the small tanks stationed at the installation. I count six positions dug in and facing the direction you would have dropped into if you hadn’t changed the plan. There are six tanks within the compound. All of them are near the front wall.”

  “Look at that open area in the middle of the base,” Clip said. “It looks like three tanks are there. That’s more than are supposed to be here.”

  “Ah, hell, them ain’t tanks; those are the mobile artillery pieces,” Twiggy drawled. “I’d bet a handful of credit that they’re set up to cover our original drop zone.”

  “Are we a go, Captain?” Captain Rogers asked Harmon. “It’s a bit chilly up here on the cliff, you know.”

  “Roger, we’re a go,” Harmon said. “Take out the turrets along the back wall, rear buildings, and any security you find. Once it’s clear enough, we’ll come up in a hurry and drop into the back half of the place.”

  * * *

  Jimmy Flino was bored. His team had been assigned to operate a laser turret on the roof of the chow hall. It sucked. He could smell dinner being cooked several floors below him, and he was starving. He had opted to take a nap through lunch, a decision he now regretted.

  Even if he put the sights at maximum zoom, he couldn’t see much out front, where the attack was supposed to come from. He did have a good view of half of his assigned firing lane, but the other half was blocked by buildings and several shuttles on the landing pad. Oh well, he thought, It’s not like a handful of mechs are going to make it past the tanks in the wood line. They definitely won’t make it past the mechs waiting behind the shuttles on the landing pad.

  Every turret was manned today. He didn’t understand why they had to be there all day; they had been briefed the attack would come right after dark. It didn’t make any sense to be at their assigned positions already.

  “Why are we out here already, freezing our asses off?” Flino asked.

  “Beats me, Corporal,” Specialist Maylin Glath said. “Why am I out here on an open turret instead of in front of a bank of computer screens, like an intelligence specialist should be?”

  “Who knows,” Corporal Flino said. “I used to walk a beat in the capitol buildings, inside, with good food all over the place. I miss being able to eat when I feel like it and not on a set schedule. This sucks.”

  “Too bad we didn’t get picked to operate a railgun,” the specialist lamented. “At least they’re inside the whole time. I’ll be glad when the elections are over and everything goes back to the way it was, and I can get to a beach somewhere where its warm.”

  “Yeah,” the corporal agreed. “Say, how did we find out when and what direction the attack would come from, anyway? You’re MI, you should know these things.”

  “All I heard is Commander Fritz came out of the Communications Center and started giving orders,” Specialist Glath said as she shrugged her shoulders. “From what I hear, she was jumpy and mad as a mama chinto.”

  “I wonder who she talked to?” the corporal said as he scooted a little closer to the specialist. “It sure is cold out here.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” She smiled and leaned into him. He leaned forward and away quickly, and before she could express confusion, she suddenly felt numb. She looked down and saw where a round had exited her chest and struck the operations screen. The fact that she heard the shots as well never registered as darkness closed in.

  * * *

  Twenty Rincah warriors low-crawled to the left and right. More of them went to the left, since that was the greatest distance to the corner of the wall on that side. When at least two warriors had the occupants of each of the turrets in their sights, the order was given, and twelve shots rang out almost simultaneously.

  The other eight warriors threw their grappling hooks up over the twenty-foot wall. All but one caught on the walkway hand rail on the inside of the wall. A second toss achieved the same result for the one that had missed the first time. In seconds, all twenty of the Rincah warriors were inside the compound. Two stepped onto the roof of the building where one of the turrets had been mounted; its previous operators slumped out of both sides.

  Several turrets were on the side walls and upon the front wall. The Rincah warriors climbed into the four turrets that were still able to function. After a minute or two figuring out how to control them—a simple task due to their age and the single grip control—the Rincah locked in on four turrets in front of them and opened fire. The lasers were old, but they were more than sufficient to take out the other positions. An alarm sounded.

  “Go!” ordered Harmon, and he felt the G forces as Cameron piloted the destroyer toward the mountain and up. Twiggy in the Zax fighter and Major Audell in the dropship followed the ship up the cliff.

  Harmon felt his stomach lurch as the ship leveled off and came to a hover. The bay door opened, and Harmon watched the mechs leap out one after another. They were a hundred yards above the rear of the compound. He could see some of the mechs firing their thrusters and landing already. He was the last to jump. With Big Jon connected to his side, he fired his thrusters and landed on a building connected to the rear wall.

  Big Jon reached up and turned off the magnet. It dropped between them, and he stepped away and unslung his rifle. He looked over at the turret, noted the bodies, and saw the damage to its operating system. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Zax shoot overhead. Twiggy was headed to destroy the tanks still within the compound.

  The twelve mechs moved through the compound toward the clearing
in the center. Harmon lined up his railgun on the nearest artillery piece and fired a sustained burst. The railgun rounds set off several of the stored rounds, and the whole vehicle blew apart in a spectacular blast, damaging the vehicle beside it. Crew members from the last vehicle bailed out and began firing laser rifles at the mechs. Harmon took two hits to his right leg, and some sensors showed yellow on his display. He hadn’t expected them to react so quickly.

  Before he could target them, they went down under a hail of rounds from Big Jon’s railgun. “Bring ’em to the center, Brickle,” he called over the link. “It’s clear for the moment.”

  As Hauler settled, and one bay door opened, Major Audell blasted by in the modified shuttle and fired at the base of the nearest railgun tower, destroying the power lines running to the weapon. He moved on to the next one, grateful that Clip had provided the blueprints to them so he could take them out with the shuttle’s quad gun.

  “Ah…Harmon,” Twiggy called. “I got the last of the tanks in the compound, but you got a bunch of mechs headed your way. They were hiding out in the shuttles on the landing pad.”

  “Roger,” Harmon answered. “Let ’em come. Take out every craft on the pad, and go take care of the rest of the tanks. They can’t hit you, but those mechs might.”

  Both security platoons bailed out of Hauler and headed into the main building to clear it. The Rincah warriors started clearing the outlying buildings. Once the railgun towers were rendered useless, Cameron took Sweet Pea to an overwatch position in case any ships came.

  “You might want to pull back, Big Jon,” Harmon said. “There’s the first one.”

  Several mechs flew over the wall and landed behind some small buildings. It was about to become mech on mech. We have a two-machine advantage, thought Harmon. Even if they are the Lormells.

  “I got two on this side,” Marteen called. “A little help?”

  “I’m on it,” said a voice Harmon did not recognize. It had to be one of the Lormell.

  “Man, that was harsh,” Marteen said moments later. “They didn’t stand a chance with all those rockets. But uh…your rack is on fire.”

  “Again? Put it out! Put it out!” the frantic voice shouted. Moments later he heard, “Stupid rockets.”

  Just then a mech jumped across between two small buildings using rocket assist. It fired two missiles at Harmon. Harmon jumped away almost too late. He had made the mistake of thinking the Restore’s mechs wouldn’t have missiles because his troops didn’t. He was wrong. The movement had full racks on their mechs.

  Harmon crashed into a small building used for maintenance, and he scrambled to try and stand. “Frost!” he exclaimed as he struggled to gain his footing with a damaged leg.

  Lieutenant Nicholson tore the offending mech apart from behind with a sustained burst from his railgun, then reached into the rubble and grasped the right pincer of Harmon’s mech in his and helped pull Harmon to a standing position. “Officers,” Big Nick said. “Sheesh.” Then he bounded off to ensure all the laser turrets were out of commission on his assigned side.

  “Hey! You’re one now yourself!” Harmon called as he took aim at the front gate guard shack, where several soldiers were holed up and had Big Jon pinned down. The staff sergeant had been unable to come to his aid when he crashed into the building because of this. Harmon took out the last of them, then he noticed several parts of the battle armor Big Jon wore were missing pieces.

  “You good, Big Jon?” He asked.

  “I’m ok,” answered the staff sergeant, checking his weapon. “I’ll be sore tomorrow, though. It’s a good thing the extra arms on this thing were locked to the front. Thanks.”

  “Let me get a status check,” Harmon called over the link.

  “All them tanks are smoking,” Twiggy called.

  “Power to the towers has been interrupted, sir,” Major Audell said.

  “Mechs have been defeated,” Marteen answered quietly, “but we lost Pvt. Zeptal and Corporal Jotroppa. One of the turrets on their side was able to spin around and get some bursts off. They never had a chance. Gunny took it out.”

  “Frost!” Harmon swore. “Two good troops lost for this squat. Someone’s going to pay.”

  “Aye, and we’ve cleared the side buildings,” Captain Rogers called. “A few of the lads have taken some hits and one was hit badly, but we got him stabilized, and he’ll make it…if we get him to some proper care soon enough.”

  “Major Audell,” Harmon ordered, “land that thing and get the Rincah wounded to their ship. As far as we are from civilization, it’s probably quicker to head to orbit. Captain Rogers, can you have your beings secure the towers and their operators?” Harmon paused a moment, then called up to Salvage Title. “Clip, bring her around with her escorts so it’s a closer flight for the wounded.

  “Clyde? Bahroot? Status?” Harmon asked.

  “Sir…” Clyde answered with the obvious sounds of lasers and railguns firing. “It’s pretty hot down here. The communication center is located in the basement, and they have it protected pretty well. Frost! Grenade! Sorry sir…Bahroot and his platoon went up and came down the back way. We have them in a crossfire now, so it shouldn’t be long. We’re going to need a medevac, too. I’ve got two down and several wounded.”

  “Captain Tomeral,” a voice said in a direct link to Harmon’s mech. “This is Admiral Timerton. Why have you initiated early?”

  “Well, sir,” Harmon answered, “an opportunity came up that I couldn’t pass on.”

  “Do you have the facility secure?” the admiral asked. “I’ll send an intelligence team in with security to get to the bottom of this. I need your insertion team up in your ship preparing for the coming invasion.”

  “Not yet, sir,” Harmon said. “It’s still hot down near the communications center. I’m going to dismount and head down there now myself, so we can get Lieutenant Commander Jayneen hooked directly into their network.”

  “Roger,” came the answer several moments later.

  Twenty minutes later, Harmon was in the basement near the entry to the communications center. It had been a fierce battle that had cost the lives of four of his troops, with twice that many wounded. They were now being loaded onto Hauler to get as quickly as possible to Salvage Title’s medical ward. It had cost all the defenders their lives.

  “Bahroot, let’s get Jayneen hooked up so she can access their files,” Harmon said. “Big Jon, you cover the door in case any of them are still skulking around down here. Make sure Clyde and the gang clear every room.”

  “Roger, sir,” the staff sergeant answered, turning away.

  Corporal Bahroot set the backpack on the table and pulled Jayneen’s computer out, careful not to pull on the cables connecting her to the battery cell and slate. He set the slate up on its stand and connected a cable from it to the large communications computer console. Jayneen immediately established a connection and broke the encryptions, using her speed and Clip’s programming. It didn’t take her long to start downloading names, locations, and dates.

  Harmon stood near the door so he could listen for anything happening in the hallway, and was satisfied with the orders Big Jon was giving. He was looking out of the room when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cabinet door open and an object fly out. The grenade landed on the table between the slate and Jayneen, rolled against her computer, and stayed there. Time stopped.

  Before Harmon could shout, Corporal Bahroot grabbed the grenade in his massive hand, spun away toward the opposite wall, and dove straight to the ground, pulling it to his chest as he was falling. Even covered by his large body, the sound was deafening when it blew. Harmon was already moving toward him, screaming, “No!” when the explosion lifted the Yalteen several feet into the air. It wasn’t until Bahroot’s body landed again that time seemed to flow normally.

  Without hesitation, Harmon spun while drawing his pistol and fired several shots into the cabinet, burning through it into the wall. Commander Fritz fell o
ut of the cabinet, her chest holed, and part of her face burnt. There would be no interrogation.

  Harmon stepped over to Bahroot, knowing there was nothing he could do. He hurt. He hurt from anger…from sadness…from the sheer stupidity of the whole Restore Movement. He would end this. He would end this soon.

  “Harmon,” Jayneen said quietly. “Corporal Bahroot gave his life to protect my existence.”

  “No, Jayneen,” Harmon whispered. “He saved your life.”

  “Yes,” the AI agreed in awe. “He saved my life.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hours later, onboard Salvage Title, Harmon sat in the conference room with Clip, Zerith, and the four associates, Hank, Stan, Kyla, and Vera. Jayneen was present through the ship’s computer system. Her actual computer was currently in the slot on the bridge in the helm console.

  “So that’s the deal,” Harmon said. He had just gone over everything that had happened at The Plateau. He had also let them know that the mission had been compromised, how he knew, and that he had figured out exactly who had set them up.

  “Man,” Clip said. “Who would have thought it?”

  “Someone needss to get what iss desserved,” Zerith said as he took a bite of a spotted apple.

  “Sir, what will we do?” Stan asked.

  “Yeah, you tell us, and we’ll do it,” Hank said. “You want a snatch and grab? It will be easy. In and out like the Charquin.” Stan nodded along with him.

  “You guys and your bedtime stories,” Clip said. “That’s some creepy stuff you scare your kids with.”

  “The Charquin? Oh, she is real,” Hank said seriously. His brother nodded with him.