Nigel smiled at the alien. “I’m sure the boss would have wanted you to have it.”
“Sulda now have problem,” the Lumar said. “Contract complete, and we do not have transportation back to home world.”
“You have a bigger problem than that,” Nigel said. “If the Merc Guild returns here, and we are forced to leave, we may very well have to blow up this space dock rather than let them use it to build more ships to fight us.”
“That is big problem. Bold Warrior Company not have any ships to escape dock.”
“That is definitely a problem,” Nigel said. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“How would you like to have new bosses that treat you better?”
“Treat Bold Warriors better?” the giant alien asked. He held up the paybox. “Pay better, too?”
“Exactly,” Nigel replied with a smile. “Working for one of the Horsemen does have its advantages.”
“One of the Horsemen would hire us? Who?”
“I would. How would you like to come work as a sub-contractor for Asbaran Solutions?”
The Lumar smiled. “I think Bold Warriors would like working for Colonel Shirazi.”
“Good,” Nigel said as they reached the Alpha Arm where his troopers and the rest of the Bold Warriors continued to stare at each other.
“All right, boys,” Nigel said. “Let’s all play nicely with each other. It looks like the Bold Warriors are going to come join our side.”
“Can I talk with you a moment?” the Asbaran XO, Captain Paolo Valenti, asked. The two men moved off to the side out of earshot. “Is that true?” Valenti commed on a private channel, to prevent anyone from eavesdropping. “You hired the big, dumb aliens?”
“Careful,” Nigel replied. “I think he’s sensitive about being called dumb.”
“But you hired them? I thought you didn’t like aliens. What are we going to do with a company of Lumar?”
“Most aliens, I don’t like. These ones, though, are almost Human, and they don’t seem to hate us like most of the merc races do. Besides, you have to draw the line somewhere, and I kind of like Major Sulda. He’s big, strong, and cheap, as is the rest of his force. I can think of a number of applications for a group like that. By the way, I can’t have him outranking my XO, so congratulations—you’ve been promoted to lieutenant colonel, with all the pay that goes with it.”
“Well, thanks,” Valenti said, somewhat mollified, “although I still don’t know what you intend to do with them.”
“I intend to leave them here with you to help defend this dock. I’m taking Alpha Company; we’ve got a new target.”
* * *
Revenge One, Space Dock 3X, Golara System
“Isn’t that a beauty?” Nigel asked, looking over the pilots’ shoulders at the ship resting in the space dock. Space Dock 3X was much smaller than Dock 17 had been, as was the ship resting inside its arms.
“What is that?” Guido asked. “It’s smaller than a frigate, isn’t it?”
“It is. It used to be a Veetanho missile corvette, but it’s here being converted into a personal yacht.”
“That’s someone’s yacht?” the pilot asked. “Who can afford something like that?”
“Peepo.”
“And we’re going to steal it?” The pilot whistled through his teeth. “Wow, when Asbaran steals shit, we do it big time. First a battleship, now the personal yacht of the general leading the forces against us.” He paused and then asked, “Don’t you think this is going to piss her off?”
“Will it piss her off?” Nigel chuckled. “I’m counting on it.”
* * *
Space Dock Central Complex, Golara System
“Walk in the park,” Buddha said as they made their way toward the central shaft.
“Careful,” Jim said. “The last thing we need is to jinx ourselves.”
“Oh Jim, no such thing as that!”
“I’m with the boss,” Sergeant Martin from Second Squad said.
The four platoons of A and B companies entered at the low-G base of the spinning command center. After sealing off the entry to the shops and warehouses it held, each platoon took a different arm and headed outward, the gravity slowly increasing with each deck they cleared. Better yet, they were in atmosphere. The lack of locks between levels would make blowing them more dangerous to the Cavaliers than the station owners. The only problem with the plan was they had no clue what was in each wing. One of the four bulbous ends would contain the command center, and intel indicated that was where they would also find the head honcho running the show in Golara.
So far, the only real challenge his squad had faced was being forced to cut their way through the doors at each level. Of course, the lift was out of the question. Jim had been leading the way, as was Cartwright tradition. Now his laser rifle was below half charge from constantly using it to cut the doors. He was forced to fall back and let Private Feldman take the duty. The young Cavalier hadn’t yet earned a handle.
“I think we must have gotten the food court,” Feldman said as he dialed his rifle down to a low-power beam instead of a high-powered pulse and began cutting the door’s locks.
“I could use a taco,” joked Private “Mouse” O’Hara.
“I heard the Horde was fighting Goka,” Private “Rick” Stodden said. “You want the kind of taco a giant cockroach would eat?”
“I’ve seen Mouse eat,” Jim said, joining in the banter. “I wouldn’t challenge him to even a Goka taco contest.” There was good natured laughing from everyone, even Mouse.
“He’s got you there,” Buddha said.
“Whatever,” Mouse grumbled, but there was the hint of a smile in his voice.
“You about through there?” Buddha asked Feldman.
“Yeah,” the private said. He turned off his laser, reached up with his left and, grunting, pulled the door back. The metal gave suddenly, launching a Goka trooper onto his chest with a crash. “Shit!” he screamed as the insectoid alien stabbed at his chest with one of its knives. Luckily for Feldman, he was wearing a Mk 8 CASPer, and the reinforced nano-bond armor turned the blade with a splash of sparks.
“Contact!” Buddha yelled and tried to bring up his laser rifle. Feldman yelled and spun around, trying to throw the alien off his suit. The landing by the stairs down was only five meters on a side and already crowded with five CASPers. Feldman’s wildly spinning suit didn’t help the situation in the least. Three more Goka slithered through the door, and the space turned into a general melee.
“Go hand-to-hand,” Jim yelled, triggering his suit’s arm blade with his pinplants. Half a meter of chromium-hardened, razor-sharp steel snapped out, and he thrust his arm forward with all his force. The blade punched through a Goka thorax with a crunch!, pinning the alien to the bulkhead like a moth in a child’s collection.
Jim used the laser rifle in his left hand to swing up and body check another Goka out of the way, and it bounced back through the doorway. He pulled the blade free from the one he had pinned, retracted it, and plucked a K-bomb from a retention point on his armor. Arming it, he reached through the hole and dropped it on the other side of the doorway, hitting another Goka about to come through. The alien tried to grab his arm, but Jim released the bomb and pulled back with more force than the Goka could use to stop him.
“Fire in the hole!” he yelled. Triggering the shield on his left arm, Jim held his arm over the doorway just as the shield snapped open, covering most of the deformed entrance.
BOOOOM!
The manual on the K-bomb suggested even a CASPer should be at least five meters from one when it detonated for maximum safety. He was a lot closer than five meters. The explosion was partially deflected by his shield, and the blast wave blew him back into Private Ventura. One of the Goka troopers was between them, and the impact crushed it in an explosion of gore.
Jim fell to the floor, his head spinning from the shock of the explosion just centimeters from his suit.
/> “Ouch,” Splunk said.
“S-switch to MACs,” Jim ordered, kneeling in Goka guts. Three of his troopers vaulted over him and started pumping magnetic accelerator cannon rounds through the door with indiscriminate abandon. Jim got his feet back under him and stood, using his pinplants to check his suit’s status. Everything was green.
“Hold fire,” he ordered. “Clear?”
“Five more dead on the other side,” Buddha confirmed. “These three are down.” Feldman was sitting on the deck by the other door, red running down from his suit’s left shoulder.
“How are you doing, Feldman?” Jim asked.
“Arm,” the man grunted. “Little fucker slid the knife right between the joints. I’m bleeding like a motherfucker!”
“Must be an artery,” Mouse said. He was their squad’s most qualified medic. He grabbed Feldman by the handles on the back of his suit and dragged him out of the landing. “Can you get to your emergency nanos?”
“Yeah,” Feldman said.
Jim nodded and turned his attention back to leading. “Cartwright’s Actual, contact. We’ve got Goka troopers in our arm.”
“Need backup?” Hargrave’s voice replied immediately.
“Negative. I have one injured, but we’re tending to it. We’ve either drawn the barracks or the command wing. Anything on your end?”
“Negative,” the older merc said.
“B2-1, contact!” cried Sergeant Dixie “General” Lee of Bravo Company, Second Platoon, First Squad. “Goka! A whole fuckton of them.”
“Lay down fire and hold position,” Lieutenant Blanc, the platoon commander, ordered. “Use heavy weapons if necessary.”
“Hold, use heavy weapons if necessary. Roger,” the sergeant said.
Jim checked his battlespace map, generated from data provided by every trooper deployed. The arm Hargrave’s platoon was assaulting, as well as Alvarado’s personal platoon, was making quick progress. Jim’s platoon and Blanc’s platoon were now both bogged down. Jim switched to fleet coms.
“Cartwright Actual to fleet command.”
“Pegasus Actual. Go.”
“We’re bogged down here, Alexis. Might take a few more minutes than planned. How are things out there?”
“We caught them napping and smashed about 20 percent of their fleet. My main force has arrived in system and is engaging the majority of their fleet. So far, we’re okay. They’ll be in range of the remaining defenses where you are in about 20 minutes. If you can’t neutralize them in 10 minutes time, we’ll have to evac you and blow the command center.”
“We want it intact for the stores.”
“Yes, we do,” she agreed. “Do your best.”
“Roger that.” He switched to his platoon’s frequency. “How’s it look, Buddha?”
“A squad of MinSha arrived with a heavy laser; we pulled back out of their range for now.”
“No time for subtlety,” Jim said. “Rockets. We go forward!”
“Yes, sir! You heard the commander…” The station thundered as a wave of shoulder-mounted rockets tore up the MinSha position. After the explosions stopped, the distinct sound of escaping atmosphere was audible.
“Mouse, how’s Feldman?” Jim commed.
“Bleeding’s under control,” Mouse replied. “I was going to call for evac.”
“Not now,” Jim said. “Is he ambulatory?”
“Yes, sir,” Mouse replied.
“Make sure his suit’s intact—we’re losing atmosphere here—and have him bring up the rear. Slave his CASPer if you have to.”
“I’m good to go,” Feldman said, though he sounded a little unsteady. “I’ll lead the charge, sir.”
“After that bug dance?” Rick asked, laughing.
“I think we have his handle,” Jim said. “Dancer.”
“Oh, man,” Feldman moaned, and the squad chuckled.
“Dancer it is. Morgan ‘Dancer’ Feldman. Sergeant Ortega?”
“Sir,” the Second Squad sergeant replied.
“Have your squad take point; we have wounded and have to reload. We’ll leapfrog each level from here.”
“Roger that, sir. You heard the commander, we’re up!” Jim’s squad made room as Second Squad bounded forward in the still-light gravity and down the now-ravaged corridor. The far end was painted blue with MinSha blood as they spun around and down to the next level.
With a fresh squad up, the Cavaliers moved quickly through the next three levels. They met Goka on every level, but this time, they knew what to expect. The tough little aliens were nearly impervious to lasers, but MAC rounds were another thing entirely. Under the impact of a titanium slug traveling four times the speed of sound, the bugs nearly exploded…as long as the round hit squarely, which was sometimes easier said than done, with the sloped carapaces of the aliens’ shells.
Jim watched the time count down minute by minute, silently trying to hurry his men, knowing that rushing an assault would cost lives. He lost two men in Second Squad to a grenade thrown by a charging Goka. It was a magnetic explosive. Privates Strader and Smith never knew what killed them. His own squad was lucky, and only one minor injury occurred. Another crew-served weapon, a MAC crewed by MinSha troops, scored a glancing blow on Corporal “Moose” Curran. His armor turned the shot, but metal spalled inside the armor and tore into his left leg. His suit began leaking air, albeit slowly.
Finally, after eight long minutes of slugging it out level after level, they were almost to the highest gravity level. Then the Goka hit him with everything they had.
* * *
Space Dock Command Center, Golara System
“They are one level below us,” the marine commander said.
The commodore looked up in shock. “One level?” he demanded. The MinSha nodded. “Stop them, now!”
“Two-thirds of my Goka are down. I have just the two heavy weapons teams left. The entropy-cursed Humans have only taken light casualties.” The commodore glared. “We cannot hold.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Call in reinforcements,” the MinSha said.
“Them?” the commodore asked. “Is that wise?”
“It’s that, or fall,” the MinSha said.
“Do it.”
* * *
Space Dock Central Complex, Golara System
“Say again?” Jim commed to his ship.
“I repeat,” Captain Su said, “I have Tortantula jumping from the central complex onto your arm of the station. Relaying telemetry.”
Jim’s battlespace was updated with images of the huge 10-legged spiders leaping from the cylindrical bulk of the central station and soaring across the void. One in five missed to sail off into the infinite.
“I think we need to evacuate you,” Captain Su said.
“Get him out of there,” Hargrave said. Jim was surprised how insistent his XO sounded. “Right now.”
Jim considered. Nine minutes since he’d talked to Colonel Cromwell. In eleven minutes the command center’s defenses would be in range of her fleet. They needed the stores being kept at the facility, but he was about to be attacked from behind. He found himself wishing he was in his Raknar. Dash would just stomp the place flat; game over. A lot of good that would do.
“No,” Jim said. “We’re staying.”
“Jim, be reasonable,” Hargrave said. “Those are Tortantula shock troops.”
“I’ve fought them before,” Jim said.
“Yeah, while you were in that 100-foot-tall war machine. This is going to be up close and personal. I’ve fought the Tortantula too many times and lost too much.”
“I’m fine,” Jim said. “Finish clearing your objective. We’re going to finish this quick.”
“Jim—”
“Lieutenant Colonel Hargrave, you have your orders.”
Hargrave was quiet for a long second, then spoke. “Understood, sir.”
“Sergeant Ortega?”
“Colonel?”
“Take rear defens
e. Hold the Torts, no matter what.”
“Roger that, sir. Second Squad, on me. Let’s fortify this stairwell.”
“What’s the plan?” Buddha asked.
“We punch through to that command center and end this.”
* * *
EMS Sleipnir, Golara System
“—formation Talon-3!” Commander Yoshuka ordered. “Roll the ship.”
“Diverting power to shields,” the SitCon announced.
“Heavy fire from that cruiser cluster, 104 azimuth 12!”
“Pull Count Fleet and Citation from port screen,” Yoshuka said. “Target particle beam fire on that damned battlecruiser!”
There was a flash of red on the Tri-V. “Empress Jito just exploded,” Soos said.
“Direct our missile fire at those three frigates,” Yoshuka ordered, “three volleys.”
Sleipnir’s 40 missile launchers spoke three times, sending 120 ship killers flashing into the black. Close by, the former Izlian battlecruiser Franklin Buchanan added a spread of missiles. Unlike the other ship salvaged with it, Stonewall Jackson, the Tesha-class battlecruiser more closely resembled the Steed-class, so it was directly incorporated into their formation. The formation of enemy frigates which had been acting together were caught off guard when they became the center of attention. Although they sent out a flurry of defensive laser fire that managed to destroy half the Hussars’ missiles, the remainder tore all three frigates to pieces.
“Excellent. Direct the remaining drones to concentrate on that group of cruisers and frigates.”
Yoshuka straddled the battle like riding a bucking horse, going from situation to situation as fast as he could. It was the bloodiest fight he’d ever been in. He’d already lost an escort and two additional frigates. He’d mauled the enemy as well, but their straight up firepower exceeded his. It was turning into a game of attrition, and he did not like it.
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