Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4)

by Anthony James

  “Not like these ones, sir. They’re well-hidden and each has multiple launch clusters. I’ve counted nine emplacements so far.”

  “I’m reading high energy output from a couple of the larger buildings as well, sir,” said Eastwood. “The type is consistent with that produced by a mesh deflector.”

  “There are more defences than just missile emplacements,” said Larson. “I think I found an Executor buried in the plain to the north of the landing strip.”

  “Well folks, I guess that confirms we’re in the right place,” said Recker. He ran power into the propulsion and aimed the Fulcrum directly at the base.

  Once the distance had reduced to two million kilometres, he reduced speed once again to a thousand kilometres per second and held the warship in the same tight circle as before.

  “Bingo,” said Larson. “That central area of the landing strip is actually doors, sir,” she said.

  “I can’t see doors,” said Recker peering intently at the feed.

  “They aren’t visible, sir,” said Larson. “I ran a series of pings that confirm a variation in the surface thickness. The Meklon have done what they can to hide the opening – a standard sensor check wouldn’t find anything. If we came a lot closer, I’m sure there’d be a discernible seam where the doors meet.”

  “Just not from here.”

  “No, sir.”

  “I can’t help but notice those doors are undamaged,” said Eastwood. “That means no surface bombardment took place.”

  “As Lieutenant Burner said - either the Meklon evacuated or the Lavorix killed them,” said Recker. “Check again for bodies, Lieutenant Larson.

  “Yes, sir.”

  It didn’t take long for Larson to find the first body. The Meklon corpse lay on its own near one of the large transports. Moments later, she located a handful of others, lying in a pile in front of a perimeter building.

  “I’d estimate a few hundred dead, sir,” she said.

  “This confirms the Lavorix attacked,” said Recker, suddenly glad he’d belayed the order to contact the base mainframe.

  “If they used the Extractor on the topside facility, would that have killed anyone working beneath the surface?” asked Fraser.

  “I’d say that’s a certainty, Lieutenant,” said Recker. He added things up. “My first thought is that the Meklon got badly screwed by our old friend luck. I’d guess the Galactar picked up the lightspeed trail from one of these transports and followed it here. Once they arrived, the Lavorix realised there was no Meklon fleet and hit the facility with their Extractor, killing everyone and inadvertently stopping work on the Tri-Cannon.”

  “And they didn’t bother with a penetrative surface scan?” said Burner. “That’s poor work.”

  “Maybe they are getting careless,” said Recker, though he didn’t get his hopes up too high. “Maybe they evaluated this base against other Meklon bases they’ve encountered and didn’t consider it worthy of extensive investigation.”

  “If the Galactar crew made an error, it’ll be the first we’ve seen of their fallibility,” said Aston.

  “Whatever happened, they apparently didn’t find the Tri-Cannon and that works in our favour,” said Recker. “If that weapon is somewhere down there, beneath the surface, we’re going to find it and see if it’s ready to fire.”

  “How are we planning to get to the subsurface construction yard?” asked Burner.

  It was a question Recker had already asked himself. Given time, he’d have dropped off a bunch of soldiers and ordered them to find a way down while the Fulcrum provided air support. In circumstances where the Galactar might be giving chase, Recker wanted a faster and more decisive solution.

  “I’ll order the base mainframe to open the gates and we’ll fly through the opening,” he said.

  “What about the possibility of Lavorix comms infiltration?” Burner asked.

  “I’m doing my best to weigh up the unknowns, Lieutenant. If we take it slow and steady, the Galactar could show up to spoil our party. If we take the direct route, we might alert any Lavorix spaceships in the vicinity.”

  “Spaceships which might already be nearby,” said Burner. “And just haven’t detected us yet.”

  “Yes,” said Recker flatly.

  “And if the base comms have been corrupted, they might send a signal to the Galactar,” said Aston. “Which would be the worst of all outcomes if the enemy ship has already given up the chase.”

  “Such are the decisions by which we live and die, Commander,” said Recker, his determination unshaken. “We’ll fly in to ten thousand klicks and then we’ll come out of silent mode and contact the mainframe. There’s a possibility it’s offline anyway, in which case we’ll either land the troops or blow a hole in the doors.” He smiled thinly. “Depending on how I feel when the moment arrives.”

  “Let’s get it done,” said Aston.

  Recker gave the Fulcrum full acceleration and the digits on the distance counter changed in a blur. He watched the tactical and the sensors, and at the last possible moment, slowed the battleship. At his chosen altitude of ten thousand kilometres, he circled the base.

  “Bring us out of silent running.”

  “Done,” said Burner. “I’m contacting the mainframe and I’ll ask it to open those doors.”

  “We should have the required authority to access the flight and status logs. Find out what happened here.”

  “The mainframe acknowledges our superior security tier,” said Burner. “That’s a good start.”

  “Tell it we require access to the subsurface facility.”

  “It seems access to those levels requires a higher security tier than what’s needed to land topside, sir.” Burner cursed. “The mainframe wishes to confirm by sending a check request to another station.”

  “Tell it that the Sphere 4 Extinction Protocol is in effect.”

  “I’ll give it a go.”

  Recker thought quickly. “There must be something in that file we received that allows us to override local station autonomy.”

  “Yes, sir, you’re right!” said Burner a few seconds later. “I’ve located and broadcast an override code which should force the mainframe to accept our commands.”

  “I want those doors open.”

  “The mainframe has accepted the order.”

  The sensor feed of the landing field was crisp and sharp, though not enough for the door seams to be visible. Recker kept one eye on the screen.

  “Obtain the flight and status data,” he said. “I’d like to know when the Galactar came here.”

  “Checking right now, sir.”

  “The doors are opening,” said Larson.

  A thin, dark outline appeared around the central five kilometres of the landing strip as the doors sunk eighty metres into the surface. Then, a line appeared down the middle and slowly widened. Recker didn’t like to imagine the feats of engineering involved in constructing just the doors, let alone whatever facility lay underneath.

  “How far down does it go?” he asked.

  “The angle is too tight, sir,” said Larson. “You’ll need to position the Fulcrum directly overhead.”

  Recker made some alterations to the battleship’s course, slowing it further as it approached the target position.

  “Sir, there’s a problem checking the flight and status data,” said Burner. “The historical logs are either deleted or hidden. Not only that, the mainframe has been prevented from compiling new logs.”

  “The Lavorix,” said Recker.

  “Still no angle through the doors, sir,” said Larson. “Sir, look at this!” she finished urgently.

  Larson had one of the underside arrays focused on the western edge of the opening doors, where one of the larger Meklon transports was parked close to the opening. The new position of the Fulcrum revealed something protruding from beneath the hull of the enormous vessel - it was the nose section of a much smaller Lavorix transport, with the rest of it concealed.

 
“Shit,” said Recker, getting a feeling of impending danger.

  “I’ve got a view through the doors, sir,” said Larson. “There’s something directly beneath.”

  “I’m reading a huge power surge from the doors, sir,” said Eastwood loudly. “It’s not the motors. A spaceship propulsion!”

  Recker knew he’d been caught out. The Lavorix hadn’t visited this base and abandoned it. They’d figured out that the Meklon were working on something and had stayed to investigate.

  “Enemy warship!” he shouted.

  “Sir, should I target and fire?” said Aston.

  “Negative, Commander! We might destroy the Tri-Cannon.” Recker brought the Fulcrum out of its circular flight path and aimed it north, away from the base. With its propulsion howling the battleship thundered for the horizon. Recker didn’t want to risk a confrontation with the Lavorix so close to the Meklon weapon and he intended to draw them away.

  “Oh crap,” said Larson.

  The protective doors – now visible on one of the rear underside feeds – were bending outwards as though an enormous force were pushing from beneath. They stretched further and lighter-coloured stress fractures appeared in jagged patterns like staccato lightning.

  Unable to withstand the immense strain any longer, the two doors erupted outwards into a volcano of metal. From the ruins, a spaceship – a heavy cruiser from its dimensions - rose, climbing into the sky like it was cast by the hand of a god. After the first came a second and then a third. When the fourth emerged, Recker wondered what the hell he’d done to deserve having such an oversized helping of crap land on his plate.

  Just in time, he got the Fulcrum over the curvature of Ystarn and out of sight. It was likely to be only the shortest of respites. The Lavorix would come and the four-to-one odds weren’t looking good.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first of the Lavorix heavy cruisers went high, while the second appeared on the rear horizon, coming straight after the Fulcrum. Where the other two went, Recker wasn’t sure, though he had no doubts he’d find out at an inconvenient moment. He sent the Fulcrum plunging lower, causing the pursuing warship to disappear below the planet’s curve.

  “They got missiles out, sir,” said Aston.

  A flashing red on the tactical informed Recker about the danger and thirty-six missiles streaked across the highest reaches of Ystarn’s atmosphere, leaving burning trails. Their guidance systems compensated for the risk of burnup and the warheads slowed, buying Aston time to react.

  “Interceptors launched,” she said. “Maglor gauss repeaters set to full auto.”

  Dozens of tiny missiles burst from their launch tubes. For a moment, they scattered randomly, leaving heat trails across the sky. Then, their guidance systems locked and the interceptors turned in the air and converged in a way which reminded Recker of a flock of birds taken to wing at dusk.

  “Shock bomb deployed,” said Aston.

  The cannister fell from one of the Fulcrum’s underside bays and detonated in a flash of red which obscured the missile trails and provided the sharpest of contrasts against the dark sheet of the planet’s night.

  At the last moment, the Maglors fired with the pulverising brutality which only came from perfectly cut alloy being shot from a barrel at fifteen thousand kilometres per second. The last of the inbound missiles vanished from the tactical.

  Recker didn’t have time to feel satisfaction at the destruction of the enemy missile wave. A huge area of the planet’s surface exploded a few kilometres behind the Fulcrum. Rock fountained, some of the pieces travelling at tremendous speed and striking the battleship’s rear section. Thousands of boulders skimmed by on both sides. The mesh deflector didn’t activate and Recker was relieved the Meklon had given the tech a way to distinguish between low and high threat attacks.

  Banking hard and instinctively, Recker was just in time to pilot the Fulcrum away from a second explosion. He remembered his encounter with a Lavorix ship when he’d taken the Vengeance to the Excon-18 station. That opponent had been able to fire a depletion burst which the Vengeance’s mesh deflector had diverted into the planet’s surface. Whatever weapon these Lavorix ships were aiming at the Fulcrum, it wasn’t activating the mesh deflector, but the overall effect wasn’t too far removed. Recker didn’t want to be right on top of a detonation when it happened.

  With a few million tons of stone raining down upon its upper plating, the Fulcrum sped through the worst of the debris. Meanwhile, Burner, Larson and Aston did their best to find the pursuing warship amongst a few hundred billion tons of flying stone.

  “They’ll go high,” said Recker.

  He compensated by banking again, flying the battleship into the cover of stones. A third detonation came, twenty kilometres behind.

  “Got one!” said Burner.

  A red dot appeared on the tactical and winked out. Burner said something crude and then the dot reappeared. This time it stayed in place, a thousand kilometres overhead and flying fast across the planet, evidently acting as a spotter for the other three.

  Recker acted at once. He altered the power load across the engine modules and pulled both control bars towards him. “Take it down, Commander,” he growled.

  The Fulcrum’s engines roared in fury and the warship’s nose swung up, leaving the stern pointed directly at the ground. Recker ignored a fourth surface detonation – closer this time – and made rapid, final adjustments.

  With the battleship vertical to the ground, Aston complied with Recker’s order.

  “Executor targeted and fired,” she said.

  Recker braced himself for the bass expulsion. It came at once, bringing pain and making every nerve in his body feel like it was alight. He tensed his muscles and rode the wave, snarling and baring his teeth in defiance.

  A two-thousand-metre flash of darkness appeared, centred on the Lavorix heavy. When it vanished, most of the warship’s midsection was gone and the front and rear sections were hurled in different directions, flames spilling from where they’d been raggedly severed. A rain of white-hot alloy sprayed in every direction like a shower of stars at the birth of creation.

  “One down,” said Aston grimly. “The five-minute cooldown on the Executor is running.”

  As she spoke, the Fulcrum’s mesh deflector was activated by a crunching impact. Recker didn’t know where the attack had come from and he shouted for his sensor team to locate the enemy warship. The battle computer evaluated the impact as being from a gauss projectile and Recker knew the source must have been the fourth of the Lavorix warships - which they hadn’t got a good view of when it emerged from the subsurface facility.

  “I’m getting us out of here,” he said.

  Recker brought the Fulcrum’s hull parallel with Ystarn’s surface and aimed the vessel on what he hoped was a divergent course from that followed by the Lavorix. The alloy nose section heated up quickly and in moments it was glowing red. Recker didn’t want to slow down and neither did he want to turn his ship into a beacon for his pursuers.

  The rear sensor view was of a planet ravaged by destructive weaponry – rocks flew everywhere, many of them heading for orbit. Nowhere was the enemy to be seen. The fact was far more of a worry than a reassurance.

  “We’re passing under a Meklon comms satellite, sir,” said Larson. “Altitude – thirty thousand klicks. They must have created a network of orbitals to serve the facility.”

  Recker acknowledged the words. The discovery of the comms satellite hinted at possibilities, though with his attention divided between everything else, he couldn’t think what those possibilities might be.

  When a red dot appeared on the tactical, Recker reacted, throwing the Fulcrum to port before his brain could form a conscious thought. A split second later, a gauss projectile punched into the ground ahead of the battleship, closely followed by another.

  “Find it,” Recker said angrily.

  He knew the Lavorix heavy was at a much greater altitude – the way the gauss s
lug had hit the ground made it obvious. Recker guessed the enemy ship was somewhere amongst the upper reaches of the cast up stone. He banked again and the Fulcrum entered a mountainous region of peaks and deep, deep canyons.

  For a moment, he considered taking the warship into one of the larger canyons, in the hope that the surrounding mountains would offer cover from the gauss projectiles. He discarded the idea – the Fulcrum was as agile as any other ship he’d flown, but its sheer size didn’t make it a good match for the confines of the planet’s topography.

  Instead, he pushed the engines to one hundred percent and activated mode 2. The resultant acceleration, combined with an unforeseen reaction between maximum output overstressed ternium, produced a startling vivid trail of blue-edged red in the battleship’s wake. An alarm chimed insistently and the nose temperature rocketed past 2500 degrees and its rate of increase didn’t slow.

  Recker ignored it for the moment. The Fulcrum’s exterior was battered by perhaps decades of war, but he’d got a feel for the battleship and he knew how far he could push it.

  “Missiles incoming,” said Aston. “Interceptors away. Target lock on Lavorix heavy. Forward and rear uppers one to three launched.”

  The Fulcrum’s missiles sped away towards a Lavorix ship a few hundred kilometres behind and at a much greater altitude. To Recker’s satisfaction, the inbound missiles couldn’t keep pace with the battleship’s velocity as their guidance systems kept them below burnup speed. A check of the Fulcrum’s nose temperature told him it had exceeded 3500 degrees. Eventually, something had to give, but he was determined that he wouldn’t relent until the battleship was out of the enemy’s sensor sight.

  After that, I’ll hunt down those bastards and destroy them one-by-one.

  His plan was ruined early. A Lavorix cruiser, coming from the opposite direction, shot by a hundred kilometres overhead. The combined velocities were high, but not so much that Aston wasn’t able to get a lock and launch from the six starboard clusters.

  The enemy crew were equally quick to react and Recker sensed, rather than saw, a blur of orange coming from above. An incoming gauss slug was dead on target – a tremendous shot, he reluctantly admitted – and it activated the Fulcrum’s second mesh deflector charge.