He received no response from the crew as they fired their weapons. Only the driver, a young soldier nicknamed Big Doug, said anything. “Ready to move, sir. Say the word and we’re out of here.”
I’ll never understand Human expressions and jargon. Tirr reached for the command display and—
WHAMM! WHAMM!
A warning siren screeched and a half dozen lights on the main panel lit up. Armor sensors on the right front of the hull showed penetration. Drive systems were damaged. Tirr reflexively slewed the main gun to the right forward quarter and sighted a skiff through the MinSha infantry. He fired the gun twice in rapid succession. As he did, a torrent of ammunition tore into the MinSha from Thunder Six’s forces. Through his antenna, Tirr could feel the terrible screeching from the MinSha as they reared up on their hind legs and charged into the newcomers.
WHAMM!
The tank slewed violently to the left, and Tirr’s head slammed into the turret wall hard enough for him to learn what Humans meant by seeing stars. It took him precious seconds to clear his head enough to understand the situation. Smoked filled the turret within seconds, and he felt heat from the lower hull assembly. Tirr glanced at the command display only to find it dead and black. There were no sounds from the lower crew compartments in the hull. Hamill’s lifeless form slumped forward in his command harness.
“Crew report!” Tirr screeched.
Seeing no movement and hearing no response, Tirr stood and raised the heavy hatch over his head. Peering carefully outside, he saw the MinSha pushing to the north. Matching them, across the valley floor and less than a kilometer away, were the Thunder Six elements. As the CASPers jumped into the space between the clashing forces, all hell broke loose.
* * *
Peacemaker Forward Headquarters
Weqq
Guild Master Rsach pored over the morning’s secure data messages. There was much to digest in the reports of unrest on many of the rim planets. While Peepo’s ultimatum to the mercenary companies of Earth had been somewhat heated, the pursuit of intelligence on the whereabouts of the Four Horsemen dominated most of the reports from the Peacemaker Guild’s clandestine network. The rest of the messages confirmed that the guild’s efforts to consolidate secretly at various points throughout the galaxy were working, largely due to his personal outreach to the Cartography Guild for their confidence.
When they’d arrived at Weqq, Rsach had sent word through the gate that he wished to speak to the Cartography Guild’s Master face to face. As the Cartography Guild’s leadership, from the gate masters on up detested physical confrontation of any sort, Rsach had correctly deduced they would not meet with him, so he’d developed a list of questions and talking points to start the discussion. From such an opening position, negotiating a cooperative settlement between their guilds should not have been difficult, based on their initial trust, but their reply had shocked him.
Guarantee the return or destruction of the gate codex stolen by Peacemaker Jessica Francis from the New Persia stargate with your personal honor, and you will have the full, just cooperation of the Cartography Guild in your conflicts.
Jessica Francis never ceased to surprise him, yet while he’d come to expect her to do the unexpected, she’d insulted the Cartography Guild by taking their codex. The Peacemakers knew there were many levels of hyperspace, but that they had a codex—something physical that could be stolen, surprised him; he’d always thought the Cartographers were more secure in the way they operated. Their official investigation from New Persia worried him even more. They were more than seventy percent certain a Depik had killed the gate master there; that the probability was so high meant the assassin rushed the assignment.
That bothered Rsach. The only other being to enter the New Persia gate around the time of the gate master’s death was Jessica Francis, and no other ship left the gate before the investigation commenced. Either the Depik spaced itself, or it followed Jessica Francis. Rsach had a strange feeling the Depik had followed Jessica, and that concerned and intrigued him at the same time.
If we can help them, what would it mean for the union? For our guild?
He pushed the thoughts away. Even a guild master could get too far ahead of himself, as he well knew. Staying in the present meant several things: focusing on stopping Peepo’s machinations against the Humans, consolidating the combat power within his Guild, and finding James Francis. He heard a soft scratching of clawed feet on the decking behind him. Rsach grunted. “What is it, Selector?”
Hak-Chet chuckled in his peculiar Sidar way. “I take it you’re reading the morning messages?”
“You know my routine well.” Rsach sighed. “I was hoping to find some good news.”
“Then you’ve not read enough, Guild Master.” Hak-Chet walked into the guild master’s quarters. “Are you sure these accommodations are appropriate? I would think a conference room would be part of your official requirements.”
Rsach turned his long, many-legged body with a ripple. He squinted at the Sidar. “These quarters were fine for Jessica Francis, and they are fine for me. The last things I need right now are bureaucratic spaces and reminders of how we’ve done things for so long without an eye on the future.”
The Sidar nodded solemnly. “Indeed. I meant no disrespect.”
“Please, Hak-Chet. We have been friends for far too long for me to be offended by something as innocuous as a remark meant to disarm me for something else you want.”
The gasp Hak-Chet barely stifled let Rsach know he’d hit the mark. After a moment of silent eye contact, both friends chuckled. Hak-Chet shook his head. “There is a message from Tara Mason in the diplomatic files. I do not understand the historical meaning of a Mister Culper, but the message requires your immediate attention, nonetheless.”
Rsach chuckled as he flipped through the stack of papers and found the diplomatic messages. Tara’s message was under a request from the Mercenary Guild asking for the authorization to investigate the destruction of the Peacemaker Consulate on Luna. Given their recordings of the attack from more than a dozen cameras and the capture of four mercenaries who’d sung quickly and loudly when questioned, there was nothing for the Mercenary Guild to investigate. Or, in their case, to corrupt.
Peepo knows she erred in her judgment by going after us. For her to press the issue further is more from pride than reason.
He read the message from Tara Mason twice to make sure he’d read it correctly. The Culper subterfuge, contrary to Hak-Chet’s belief, was Tara Mason’s suggestion. It had worked for President George Washington several hundred years earlier in his insurgent war—something Rsach had discovered and studied with rapt fascination.
Rsach’s face twisted in the Jeha approximation of a grin. “It appears stage one is complete.”
Hak-Chet nodded. “I do not approve of her methods, but Miss Mason found the surviving Haulers and rescued Jackson Rains and Vannix without a great deal of casualties. I withdraw my objection to Rains’ incarceration. It appears he uncovered the corruption in the prison you believed was there. That Miss Mason found Bukk and realized his actions were honest is a blessing. Pierre DuPont was never to be trusted.”
“Oh, he was trustworthy, Selector.” Rsach sighed. “But all too often, Humans take what they want now instead of waiting for what they really want. He saw turning his back on Snowman as a way to accelerate his own plans. It failed.”
“We still have no idea where Snowman is.”
Rsach nodded. “Or what his plan is. That’s what troubles me. He’s been preparing for this for thirty years.”
“Aside from funneling cash and equipment into this plan, we know nothing about Resurgens, or what his intentions are,” Hak-Chet said. “I thought he was our friend and ally?”
Rsach took a deep breath and lowered his chin slightly. Pitching his voice purposefully low, he replied, “He has been my friend since my days as a Lieutenant. While we theorized about the hubris of the Mercenary Guild, he said there would alway
s be those willing to stand against tyranny. I agreed with him and told him the Peacemaker Guild could be counted on to do so.”
“And what did he say?” Hak-Chet asked.
“He laughed.” Rsach shook his head from side-to-side. “It was one of the last times I saw him in person. I was in transit to the academy, and he was headed outbound on a salvage mission.”
“I had no idea you knew him personally.”
“I did,” Rsach said. His mouth was a tight black line. “But time and experience change what and who you think you know. I should have planned for this as he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was right to laugh, Hak-Chet. Our guild has maintained a simple existence for the last three hundred years, while the Mercenary Guild, and others, have made tremendous advances in technology, political maneuvering, and building their organizations. We believed our course was to stay true to our roots.” Rsach frowned, his soft lower jaw contorting in multiple directions. “We were wrong.”
Hak-Chet nodded thoughtfully. “You believe Snowman is preparing to stand against the Mercenary Guild, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Rsach replied. “It is imperative we find him before the Mercenary Guild does. DuPont’s death and the escape of our Peacemakers from their prison will undoubtedly raise the issue in Peepo’s council. Once that happens, the race to find him will be on. No matter what he is planning, his rebirth will draw the Mercenary Guild’s attention and an armed response. The Four Horsemen won’t be enough to save him, if we’re right.”
Hak-Chet pointed at a separate report in the stack. “And what of young Cartwright gathering Raknars? Could that be connected to Resurgens?”
“Doubtful. Snowman and Cartwrights had an...interesting relationship, to say the least.” Rsach chuckled. “But I will say this, they were cut from the same cloth. Whatever Snowman has up his sleeves, it’s on the same level as what Cartwright is doing. Or greater.”
* * *
The Sentinel
Victoria Bravo
“All Thunder elements, engage!” Ibson released the transmit button and slewed his deck-mounted, multi-barreled cannon to confront the MinSha infantry rushing forward between the skiffs. His eight tanks were hardly an overwhelming force compared to the couple hundred MinSha and their four combat skiffs, but the twelve fresh Mk 6 and Mk 7 CASPers under Lieutenant Ritchey gave the combined force a vertical advantage.
“Thunder 3, target your weapons on those skiffs as you jump,” Ibson called.
“Roger, Six. Alpha Team moving to engage now.” On cue, half the CASPers bounded forward from between the line of tanks. At their apexes, all of them targeted individual skiffs. There were two explosions at the far western end of the MinSha line, but the skiffs pressed forward. The CASPers landed and turned their fury against the MinSha infantry. “Bravo Team, move!”
Ibson watched the second team of CASPers jump forward and immediately knew the MinSha had let the first team pass to test their armor and defenses. Before the CASPers reached max altitude, the four skiffs and a sizable group of infantry forces turned their weapons to the sky and fired. Four of the six CASPers took significant damage in seconds and cartwheeled into the scrub. The two that stayed upright managed to land, but with significant damage. Ibson watched in horror as the MinSha swarmed them.
“Press forward. Hit them with everything you have.” Ibson checked his tanks as they charged into the MinSha. Infantry spilled everywhere, and he heard their claws scratching across the exterior armor through his helmet. All external weapons firing, Ibson checked the command display. A flickering green icon caught his eye, and he scanned it.
Tirr.
The icon had been gone for more than two minutes, and Ibson had assumed the MinSha leader and his team had perished in the fight. He tapped the icon and engaged direct laser communications.
“Liberty Six? You still with me?”
The garbled connection was full of static, but Tirr’s voice replied, “Affirmative. I’m out of the wreckage. Moving to secure Rebel Lead from her crash site.”
Ibson flinched. “You’re sure she’s alive?”
“No, but I’m not leaving her out there unprotected,” Tirr replied. “Can you provide covering fire?”
At that moment, across the battlefield and through the carnage around his tank, Ibson saw Tirr moving toward the northeast. Clearly wounded, the MinSha officer appeared to be dragging one leg. There was no way he would make it once the attacking forces saw him. A traitor in their midst would incite a bloodlust which Ibson couldn’t stop.
“Liberty Six, stop and take cover in the wadi. Initiating an angel flight.” Ibson watched Tirr until he stopped. He lowered himself to the ground, out of sight, as Ibson changed frequencies.
“Command, Thunder Six. Angel flight, my location. Liberty Six is wounded and semi-mobile. Need immediate extraction for Liberty Six and Rebel Lead. Over.”
“Roger, Thunder Six. Routing Mako One Three to your location now. Are Liberty Six and Rebel Lead co-located?” Watson’s gruff voice was quiet and determined.
Ibson frowned. “Negative. Estimate they are six hundred meters apart with a shitload of MinSha between them.”
“Acknowledged.”
Ibson watched his tanks and the MinSha push against each other in a near stalemate. A battle of attrition would kill his forces on open ground instead of allowing him to retain the initiative. Envelopment of the MinSha main effort at the eastern crux of the valley meant he had to get through. The downed aviator gave him a reason to attack against improbable odds. “Command, any other flyers?”
“Standby.”
Ten seconds passed before Peacemaker Francis replied on the frequency. “Thunder Six, air support inbound to cover Mako One Three and assist your move to Rebel Lead. Acknowledge, over.”
“Roger, Peacemaker. ETA?”
“Mako One Three is four minutes out.” Francis replied. “Air support is almost on station now. You’ll want to keep your heads down. Voodoo flight is rolling in from the south.”
Ibson watched as his command Tri-V picked up the data from the flyers. In the space of two seconds, he connected with them via radio and cross-linked their data feeds to all his remaining tanks and CASPers. He selected his Operations Officer, Lieutenant Ritchey, and pressed the transmit switch. “Thunder Three, friendlies inbound, prepare to hold the line and assault forward.”
“Roger, Six.” Ritchey replied. “Where are we headed?”
“Rebel Lead is on the ground at zero five one from your position, seven hundred meters. Mako One Three is dropping to pick up Liberty Six and will boost forward. We’re clearing the path. Got it?”
“Affirm, Six. We’ll push on your signal.”
Ibson grinned. Staying on the ground and keeping the MinSha infantry between them and the skiffs worked to protect the remaining six CASPers. Some of the MinSha retreated in the direction of the wadi for cover, which was just fine with Ibson. It gave his forces freedom to maneuver.
“Thunder Six, Voodoo Lead. Ten seconds to drop,” Mays called.
Before Ibson could respond, another voice cut in. “Thunder Six, Mako One Three. Twenty seconds out. Here we go.”
Ibson grinned and reloaded his exterior cannon. He pressed the transmit button. “Stand by, all Thunder elements. Time to roll.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Command Center
Victoria Bravo
Arms crossed, Jessica rocked from side-to-side with every report from the battlefield. Watching the cameras and the computer-generated icons moving across the Tri-V displays did not replace being out there. Her place, she knew, was in the command center. Keeping an eye on the battle and thinking through actions and consequences for every piece of the battle was a strength of Peacemaker training but being away from the field bothered her to no end. Unable to sit still once she found out about Tirr’s situation, she stood and stared at the icons for Mako One Three and Liberty Six’s ele
ments as they prepared to get her friend off the field. Compared to the advancing icons of the MinSha main effort, the distant icons seemed to move in slow motion.
Commander Watson stood a couple of meters away, monitoring the MinSha advance. He looked focused and ready, his anxiety gone, which Jessica noticed with satisfaction. He looked over his shoulder. “Obstacle fields are working, Peacemaker. Once they hit the closest minefields, we’ll commit Avenger Six and clean these bastards off the field.”
Jessica shook her head. “You want to commit the last force we have in hiding, instead of using the forces we have on full display?” She pointed to the defensive layout. Avenger Six, an impressive captain named Vuong, led a dozen tanks and eighteen CASPers. They’d remained hidden behind the mesa code-named Quincannon since the beginning of the battle. Vuong had probably wanted to attack at the earliest opportunity, but the timing wasn’t right. “Commit them now, and we lose the element of surprise. If the MinSha continue down that corridor into the minefield, we can hit the MinSha with the CASPers on the flank of our defensive line.”
Watson turned and looked at the display. The leading icons of the MinSha attack reached the displayed lines of maximum engagement range. For a long few seconds, nothing happened. Watson stepped forward toward the radio operator, and Jessica realized she’d done the same thing.
Why aren’t they firing?
Almost in unison, the computer-generated icons started to flash as their weapons fired. The reported rate of fire made the entire defensive line, a combination of tanks and CASPers, flash like almost constant lightning. The MinSha returned fire as they entered the forward minefield. Almost as if they’d read the defensive plan, the MinSha deployed in a wide line, two skiffs deep. As their infantry deployed, the skiffs inched forward into the defensive belt.
Stand or Fall (The Omega War Book 4) Page 32