In the center of the “U” rested their prize, the almost-finished Maki battleship, held in place by a variety of tubes, umbilicals, and scaffolding. His system translated the name on the bow as Lavender Grove. He laughed—where did the stupid aliens come up with such dumb names? Yellow warning lights flashed in a number of places around it, warning the shipyard’s crew of impending danger, but that was the only activity he could see; the shipyard workers all appeared to have scampered inside. That was fine…but it was about to get as dangerous inside as it was outside the skin of the new warship.
Nigel looked off to the sides and could see many more similar docks, in a number of directions, including the one where the other nearly-finished battleship was tethered. Flashes showed the battle raged there as well. He felt a shiver go down his back—if the Mercenary Guild had many of these shipyards in operation, humanity would quickly be squashed like tiny bugs. No matter whether they got away with the battleships or not, they had to destroy this facility when they left.
“Fire in the hole,” one of his troopers commed, and his attention returned to the dock he was on as the dropships began lifting off to get the prize crews. The seven Asbaran dropships had landed spread out along the length of the long arms of the dock. Four, including his own, had landed on the “left” arm as he looked at it—Alpha Arm, it was labelled in their planning—with the other three dropships on Bravo Arm on the other side of the battleship.
He watched his troops jetting toward the nearest airlocks. As they reached the airlocks, they placed breaching charges on the outer doors, detonated them, then did the same to the inner doors. Nigel might have felt badly for any of the workers who suddenly found themselves without air, but he thought about all the innocents on Earth who’d been killed by the aliens, and it didn’t bother him so much.
In less than two minutes, most of his troopers had entered the station, except for a few personnel left topside as guards. He nodded to himself. Aside from the loss of the Reavers on the other space dock, the invasion was proceeding according to plan. One of his troopers called out a report of contact with alien troops inside the facility, and he nodded again to himself as he headed for one of the entrances.
It was his favorite part of the assault. Time to kill some aliens. At this point, he didn’t even care if he got paid.
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
Golara System, Emergence Point
The crew of the Maki frigate Evening Dew watched the destruction of the other ships from three light minutes away, helpless to do anything. They and their allies in the frigate Crisp Bloom were on highguard at the emergence point, tasked with providing early warning and interdiction of arriving vessels. It had been a milk run until an hour ago when the Winged Hussars had somehow appeared deep in the system, a seeming impossibility.
“The shipyard is under attack?” Captain Tshi asked.
“Affirmative,” comms replied. “The commodore is losing it. Ships in the fleet are beginning to report ready, albeit slowly.”
Captain Tshi examined the tactical map on the Tri-V and gnashed his teeth. Forty-seven ships remained in the main fleet. All had been unmanned when the Winged Hussars appeared. They were supposed to be part of fleets which would be dispatched against Human settlements after the first six were taken, or relief elements if needed. The crews were all either on the operations station or performing maintenance on their ships. “Entropy-cursed Humans simply excel at picking bad times,” he swore. His TacCom nodded in agreement.
“At least we still have numerical superiority,” the TacCom said.
“Emergence!” the sensor tech said. The captain spun as the Tri-V began adding ships. First five, then 10, then 20, 30; the dots kept appearing until there were 63. All were flashing blue; aggressors.
“I have an incoming communication,” he said.
“Let’s hear it,” the captain said with a sigh.
“This is Commander Yoshuka, commander of the Winged Hussars task force, to the two Maki frigates on highguard. Everything in this system has been declared a war prize. Surrender or be destroyed.”
Tshi could see on the Tri-V projected battlespace how smoothly the Hussars were reforming, frigates moving forward to project power, escorts falling back to protect battlecruisers. Was that an Izlian heavy cruiser in their formation? Where did they get that old thing?
“The ship is at battle stations,” TacCom advised. “Orders, captain?”
He glanced at the battlespace one more time. The enemy’s threat bubble was displayed over Evening Dew and Crisp Bloom. They could escape that threat bubble in two minutes, if the ships had been capable of 29 Gs of constant acceleration, and if the crew could have survived it.
“Notify Crisp Bloom,” he said. “We are surrendering.”
EMS Sleipnir, Golara System, Emergence Point
“Colonel Cromwell, Sleipnir actual. We have taken the emergence point, and we are inbound.” The commander turned from his comms officer to his TacCom. “Have the two Maki frigates stood down?”
“It is confirmed, Commander.”
“Detach Tizona and Bishop as prize crews and highguard. Get the fleet underway. Have the carriers stand by for drone launch.” Sixty-one ships began accelerating toward the distant shipyard and the fleet defending it. Five minutes later, comms relayed their leader’s reply.
“My compliments, Commander. Proceed as ordered.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope for that the rest will just roll over?” the TacCom asked.
“Oh, probably,” Yoshuka said. “It’s been a while since we’ve been in a good stand-up slugfest. Let’s kick some Peepo ass. Order Task Force Cartwright to break off, and good luck to them.”
* * *
Bravo Arm, Space Dock 22, Golara System
“Into the station!” Sergeant First Class Amunson ordered. Overwhelmed at suddenly being thrown into command, he fell back on doing what he knew best—accomplishing the mission. He only had one platoon now instead of two companies, so he wouldn’t be able to do everything his company had been tasked with, but he’d do what he could. He would have asked for assistance from the Copperheads on the other arm of the space dock, but they had their own jobs to do.
He shook his head. They were depleted, but Ragnar’s Reavers would get the job done. They always did.
His shuttle had landed on the end of the Bravo arm of the giant dock, furthest from the station’s active defenses. With the loss of the other three dropships foremost in the pilot’s mind, Amunson really couldn’t blame him for it.
They’d breached one of the airlocks, then had waited as the air roared out of it. One of the benefits of breaching a number of the airlocks simultaneously was you didn’t have to stay in place for as long while the hurricane of air left the station. In combat, movement is life; to stay in place was often the best way to get yourself killed. He’d ordered one of the fire teams to move up to the next airlock and blow it; that airlock had then become the one with the gale-force winds issuing from it, which had allowed his men to, finally, enter the station. They were behind schedule, and he knew it.
Amunson directed his troops to advance along the oversize corridor, overriding the airlocks as they came to them, further opening the facility to space. The passageway was over 20 feet wide and 20 feet tall, which seemed excessive, until he realized you’d need about that much space, at a minimum, to allow two Tortantulas to pass each other, especially with all the crap inside the passageway. He’d never been to either a terrestrial or space-based shipyard before, but he was amazed at all the debris lying around.
It wasn’t really “lying around,” he realized. In zero-G, lying around would have meant clogging the passageway as things floated through it. Once he realized all the boxes, stacks, and other piles of equipment had magnetic locks, and they had been positioned where they were on purpose, he decided there must be some method to the seeming madness. For the life of him, though, he couldn’t tell what it was.
The eq
uipment piles gave him an idea, though, as they passed the main gangway onto the ship. “All right, folks,” he said. “I suspect things are going to get hot here soon, and all we’ve got is one platoon, so we’re going to build a barricade with all this shit the workers left here for us. Bring everything from beyond the ship’s access back to here, so we have a nice little killing ground. Quickly! We don’t have much time.”
With 18 CASPers moving the boxes, crates, and pallets—he’d left four troopers on the exterior to watch for flanking maneuvers by the enemy—they quickly cleared a 100-foot kill zone. The boxes and crates were attached to the floor and each other, several deep and several high, to make a barrier from behind which they could fire. Anything that wouldn’t stack was given a push down the corridor behind them to collect in a giant pile of mayhem.
“Where are you going with that?” Amunson asked as a trooper passed him with a big metal box.
“I thought we already had enough in the barricade,” he said. “I was just going to throw it onto the pile.” He nodded down the passageway.
“No,” Amunson replied, looking around the corridor. “I have a better idea.”
“Contact!” his sentry shouted as they finished up a couple minutes later. The trooper, Corporal Pedersen, fired a couple of times, then came jetting past. “Lots of enemy coming,” she said as she hunkered down on the other side of the barricade. “There’s at least a company of Lumar, as well as a number of Goka.”
Amunson looked at his laser rifle. It would be almost useless against the Goka, as would the laser rifles of the rest of his folks. All of a sudden, the defenses he’d been so proud of a few minutes ago didn’t look quite so impregnable.
* * *
Alpha Arm, Space Dock 17, Golara System
Nigel jetted toward the center portion of the facility, along with the troopers of Alpha Company. On the other arm of the facility, Bravo Company was matching their advance. Charlie and Delta were finishing the sweep of the ship, but so far they hadn’t found any mercenaries onboard, only a few dock workers and some advance members of the ship’s provisional crew, all of whom had been technicians, not warriors. When informed the battleship was now the property of the Humans, and that the space dock was going to be destroyed, all the aliens had surrendered without a fight. Some were even helping his troops prepare the ship for departure. He shook his head. Stupid aliens.
The only mercs his troops had seen were a probing force of Lumar, who had retreated when they realized they were dealing with CASPers. They’d also found the bodies of several who hadn’t had suits on when Asbaran had entered the station, which did nothing to sway his earlier opinion.
“Colonel Shirazi?” Corporal Taheri asked from the point. “You’ll want to see this.”
He continued forward to where Alpha Arm joined into the base portion of the facility. Just before it, standing in a line abreast three rows deep, waited 15 Lumar dressed in spacesuits. One more of their number waited in front of the group. While the troops in ranks all held clubs, the one in command held a laser rifle in a “port arms” position with the upper two of its four arms.
“I would like to speak to the person in charge,” the one in front transmitted.
“That’s me,” Nigel said, moving to stand in front of his troops. “I’m Colonel Nigel Shirazi of the Human mercenary company Asbaran Solutions.”
“I am Major Sulda, commander of the Bold Warrior Lumar mercenary company. I cannot let you pass.”
“I see,” Nigel said. “Can you perhaps tell me why that is?”
“We were contracted to guard this facility, and we will do so.”
“Sulda, I don’t know what kind of surveillance capabilities you have on this space dock, but I have four companies of CASPers here. I could kill all the men behind you before they could get halfway to me. You’re the only one with a real weapon; you’d be the first to go.”
“If you kill us, our families get both combat bonus and death bonus. If we let you pass, they get nothing. It is better to have you kill us than let you pass.”
Nigel’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?” he asked when he could speak again. “You’d rather have us kill you than let us pass?”
“If you kill us, we have our honor, and our families get paid. If we let you pass, they get nothing,” Sulda repeated.
“Can we just kill them all and be done with it?” Corporal Taheri asked from alongside Nigel. “They must have something great they’re guarding if they’re willing to die for it.”
“I doubt they have anything of tremendous value here,” Nigel replied, “and no, we cannot just kill them. As I was recently reminded, we are supposed to be the good guys. While I would cheerfully shoot down a group of MinSha if they were here in place of the Lumar, I cannot in good conscience kill all those Lumar when they are, for all intents, unarmed.”
Nigel turned back to the Lumar. “Major, you are presenting me with a difficult choice. I really want to get past you, and we both know I can, but I find myself reluctant to spill your blood. Is there another way around this? What exactly does your contract say?”
“Contract say Bold Warrior Company provide security for facility part of Space Dock 17. That is the part of the dock behind us. I am to break up fights among crews and keep people from stealing things.”
“Okay, well, we aren’t part of the crew, so that doesn’t apply to us. How about letting us past?”
“Contract say not to let anyone steal from station, not just crews.”
“They’re going to be pissed about the battleship,” someone behind Nigel said.
“Not care about battleship,” the Lumar leader said. “Battleship is not on this station. Proud Warriors not contracted to defend it.”
“Fair enough,” Nigel said, “because we are taking that. How about this, then? You take me and three of my men to the big boss’ office here, and we promise not to steal anything along the way. You can come with us to make sure. Then we’ll come right back here. How’s that?”
The Lumar seemed to consider it, then finally said simply, “Okay.”
“Great,” Nigel said. “Corporal—”
“But you only take two men,” Sulda said. “Three total.”
“Fine,” Nigel said. “I need someone good with tech.”
“That’s me,” Sergeant Rahimi said. “I can hack just about anything.”
“Good,” Nigel said. “Taheri, you and Sergeant Rahimi are with me. Everyone else, stay here and be ready to come save us if we call.”
“Do you really think that’s possible?” Taheri asked over the company’s tactical frequency.
“No, but there’s no reason for them to know that,” Nigel replied. “Lead on,” he said to Sulda.
The Lumar nodded once, then turned and led Nigel and his men into the station, the ranks of the Lumar opening to allow them to pass. Several of the Lumar troopers fell in behind them.
* * *
Bravo Arm, Space Dock 22, Golara System
“Looks like we have Goka and Lumar incoming,” Amunson said. “Enberg, Hagen, and Ostergaard, go supplement the folks outside. If the enemy has Goka troops, they will sure as shit send some of them outside to flank us.” He looked at the rest of the troops at the barricade. “In case you didn’t hear, there’s a group of Lumar and Goka coming. If you’ve got a laser, target the Lumar first. If you have a MAC, take out the Goka. Those will be the difficult ones; hopefully, there won’t be many of them. They are probably part of the ship’s marines; I don’t think the Merc Guild would waste them guarding a shipyard. If so, we can’t let them on the ship—they’ll know how to disable or destroy it.”
Amunson switched to the overall command frequency—not just the one for the local assault, but the one for the entire mission. It was the first time he’d ever dialed up the frequency, and he had to answer two dialogue boxes in order to enable transmission on it. Did he know this was the overall command channel, which normally was reserved for senior officers in command of major operation
s? Yes, he did. Did he really want to transmit on this channel? No, not really, in all honesty, but he needed the support.
“Any Golden Horde units up this frequency?” he was finally able to transmit. “This is Sergeant First Class Amunson, acting CO for Ragnar’s Reavers.”
“This is Golden Horde Actual,” a female voice replied after a moment. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m in Bravo Arm of Space Dock 17. We are holding the passageway, preventing alien forces from entering the battleship, but we have a force of Goka and Lumar inbound. We need immediate reinforcement, or we are going to lose this position, and they will have access to the ship.”
“They probably want to get in and destroy it,” Colonel Enkh replied. “At the very least, they will make it a lot more expensive for us to capture it. You must hold out at all costs. We are on our way. ETA…four minutes.”
“We’ll hold,” Amunson replied. He shook his head as he caught sight of the skittering black forms of approaching Goka. They were on the ceiling and the walls. Of course. Four minutes was going to be an eternity. He had no idea how they’d hold.
* * *
Cartwright’s Cavaliers, Golara System
Jim gritted his teeth and growled, fighting almost five Gs as Bucephalus rode her tail, falling toward their objective. For a change, he was thankful for every minute he’d spent in the gym and every pound he’d managed to lose. He also promised himself he’d lose many more, if it was the last thing he did. Strapped into his CASPer in a dropship, all he could do was listen to snippets from the space battle.
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