Derelict: Book 2, Counterattack (A LitRPG Dungeon Core Adventure)

by Dean Henegar

  Another orcish light cruiser maneuvered to dock with the Franklin, and several of the smaller raiders also rejoined the queue. The approaching ships kept up a constant fire on Slater’s hull, not allowing his drones to execute any further repairs. He was going to have to fight off the new round of boarders the hard way.

  Both of the kill teams also closed in. One ship attached to the aft upper hull, and the second latched onto the bow right in line with deck two. Slater felt a gnawing pain from where the two kill teams had docked. They were using something that could cut through his reinforced hull, something that caused him pain and damaged his ship. His momentary distraction prevented him from using magic blasts on the orcs that were even now streaming aboard from the attached light cruiser. The delay allowed the orcs to close with the pair of reapers defending the boarding area, taking them down in a flurry of laser blasts.

  Reinforcing the boarding area with another pair of reapers proved to be a lost cause; the orcs and their powerful weapons also took them down, but not before suffering horrific casualties. The orcs held the boarding area, but just to gain the one small foothold on his ship had cost the council fleet nearly a thousand dead, casualties Slater was about to add to. The cruiser disgorged another dozen orcs before pulling away to allow an orcish corvette to unload.

  The orcs in the boarding hatch area had only a moment to wonder about the metal globe that had dropped from the ceiling before it exploded into a swarm of laser blasts. The laser globe accounted for another eight dead orcs and several more wounded. Blinding light from the laser globe’s blast distracted the orcs enough for them not to notice the four remaining blast rats in the ceiling drop down and detonate. By the time the orcish corvette docked, their warriors met only ten badly wounded survivors of the cruiser. Orcs were not so easily dissuaded, and the fresh forces continued the assault, attempting to push farther into the derelict.

  Covering the main passageway leading off the entry point was a standard barricade defense. Instead of gnomes this time, three reapers manned the barricade, their heavy fire backed up by a second turret set into the ceiling above them. Their combined fire held back the orcs before they unveiled another weapon in their arsenal. Two of the orcs held long tubes that were some type of missile launcher. Leaning into the passage, the orcs aimed at the barricade and the defending reapers. One orc was met with a round to the face, the second orc following his comrade’s fate a second later. The second orc with the tube was down, but not before he had been able to fire.

  The missile streaked down the corridor and connected with the barricade, blasting straight through the wall and into the reaper behind it. With the sound of screeching metal, the top half of the reaper dropped onto the deck, completely severed by the weapon. Waving forward the swarm of gnomes who were now boarding, the orcs waited to grab the unused rocket until the passage was filled with gnomes being cut down by fire from the remaining defenders. Slater ordered his defenders across the ship to prioritize targeting of any foe with a similar weapon. It was too late for the defenders at the barricade, though; the second blast took out the turret as the next wave of gnomes attacked. Even without the turret and the loss of their fellow reaper, the remaining pair were holding back the tide, at least until their foes were able to gather more anti-tank rockets.

  The pain Slater felt intensified as a section of the hull clanged down to the deck; the first kill team had breached his ship. The kill team had picked a favorable spot as far as Slater was concerned; the opening was ten feet from the final barricade on the upper deck, directly under the guns of his defenders. The second kill team cut through in a worse place for Slater, not near any fixed defenses, allowing only his mobile forces to respond. A half dozen of the autonomous defensive drones placed themselves in position to box in any boarder from the kill team on the second deck. The true test of Slater’s new defenses was imminent.

  — 29 —

  Motion caught Slater’s eye as a trio of trolls dropped onto the first deck. The trolls wore unusual body armor and had no weapons in their hands. Instead, connected to the shoulder of their body armor was a short-barreled weapon that tracked wherever the trolls were looking. There were no melee weapons hooked to their gear, and one look at the three-inch claws at the tips of their fingers revealed why. Standing even taller than an orc, the trolls were thinner but still gave off a feeling of raw power.

  The reapers behind the nearby barricade and the turret above them began to fire. A green glow sparked with each impact; magic barriers protected this kill team. The trolls turned their gaze toward the defenders, and bright flashes erupted from the shoulder-mounted weapons. Each blast hit a reaper, the impacts forcing the metallic bodies of his MOBS back. Two of the reapers got their shields up in time to deflect the shot, metal melting off the face of the shield at the point of impact. Slater’s third reaper took the shot to the top of the cylinder that made up its main body. The weapon burned through both sides, destroying the reaper in one blow. The trolls were using some sort of plasma weapon, and it was more advanced than any of the gear Slater had seen from Illissa’s kill team. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on one so he could mass-produce them for his MOBS and maybe even scale them up for his ship.

  Casualties and hits didn’t matter to his reapers; they just kept firing at their targets. The magical shield on the lead troll failed even as the kill team unleashed more blasts from their shoulder-mounted weapons. Several explosive rounds hit the troll, one of its arms flying off while huge holes were torn in its abdomen. The troll dropped to the deck as the other two advanced on the barricade and a second group of three trolls boarded behind them. Two of the trolls were taken down when Slater’s combat drones emerged from flanking compartments to catch the enemy in a crossfire.

  The combat drones couldn’t equip the more powerful machine guns the reapers used, but their rifles were still deadly. The trolls ignored their losses and instead concentrated on bringing down the MOBS and turret with their accurate fire. Silence filled the passageway as the last dropped to the ground in pieces. The kill team was down to only two trolls, who paused and looked down at their casualties. As the fallen trolls began to stand, Slater could see the massive wounds in their bodies healing before his eyes. Only where the explosive rounds had cauterized some of the flesh did the healing seem to take much longer. Missing limbs started to regrow, and the trolls continued toward the stairwell leading to deck two.

  Slater was almost drooling at the chance to absorb one of the trolls. If he could unlock their pattern, he would have MOBS that would rival his current reapers. A pair of blast rats dropped down among the regenerating trolls, their explosions adding more damage. Despite the equivalent of four grenades going off near them, the trolls were merely inconvenienced and delayed by the damage. Slater then released a laser globe from the ceiling. The globe exploded in a swarm of laser blasts, the strikes causing the trolls to howl in pain where they hit. One troll dropped to the deck and didn’t rise again, a lucky hit from the laser globe having penetrated the eye socket and burning into its brain.

  Slater ordered more laser globes to be printed up, as well as some laser pistols for his reapers. The plan would be for the reapers to take down the trolls with heavy firepower and then finish them off with a laser coup de grâce. His lack of research into small-arms laser weapons was coming back to bite him. The projectile weapons his MOBS had been using were much more effective than lasers against every other foe they had faced. If he survived the fight, Slater made a note to develop laser rifles further or investigate rounds for his current weapons that would use some type of heat or acid damage to deal with trolls and the like.

  The trolls took a moment to consume their fallen, a disgusting sight, but one that allowed Slater to reposition forces to meet them. All his MOBS from the midpoint of deck one all the way to the aft were sent to converge on and kill the trolls. He was confident he had enough firepower to take them out. The MOBS from the midpoint to the bow of the ship were to remain in place a
nd defend against the other boarders. Even now the gnomes and orcs were pressing his defenses hard, but his MOBS were still holding strong.

  On deck two, the other kill team emerged. Clambering out of the council ship was something from a nightmare. A being that resembled an elf with most of its body replaced by machinery stood and surveyed his ship. Half of the skull was exposed metal, and one eye had been replaced with a glowing orange orb. The creature’s chest comprised a clear piece of what looked like acrylic or plastic, revealing the beating heart and pumping lungs of the cyborg. Energy crackled around the creature as plasma weapons like the ones the trolls were using popped up over each shoulder. The oddest feature of the cyborg was that it had four arms, two of flesh and blood where they would normally go and another pair of metallic limbs just underneath.

  Each of the elf cyborg’s hands held a crystalline spear similar to the one Illissa had wielded. Unlike Illissa’s spear, these glowed with some unknown energy. Slater knew the weapons would cut through just about anything and were somehow linked to the wielder. The abomination looked around, seeing that it was near the stairs leading down to the final level of the derelict and to where Slater’s core was hidden. This creature could sense his core. Of this, Slater was certain.

  A stream of combat drones and reapers began their assault on the cyborg, its shielding proving even stronger than that of the trolls. Every second, a blast from the shoulder-mounted plasma weapons would take out a defender; the aim of the cyborg was perfect. Instead of relying on its ranged attacks, the cyborg charged into the fray. Impossibly quick, the creature was able to dodge some of the incoming fire. Leaping up, the cyborg landed behind his reapers, which were even now traversing their bodies to bring weapons to bear.

  With strikes so fast its hands were only a blur, the cyborg attacked with all four spears, easily shearing through or penetrating the armor of his MOBS; the crackling energy coursing around the spear tips melted anything it touched. Half the MOBS on deck two were heading toward the creature, but it was cutting them down with plasma fire and bladed spears as fast as they could arrive. Slater tried to help his MOBS with shields and even a magic blast or two, but the cyborg, somehow resistant to his magic, shrugged it all off.

  Sensing which way it needed to go, the elf cyborg disengaged from the fight and charged down the stairs, ignoring blasts from laser globes and claymore mines along the way. The failure of the mines was a big disappointment to Slater. He had reserved them for deck two to add a new wrinkle in any enemy’s plans to push farther toward his core. With its speed and agility, the cyborg elf just seemed to never be in the right place to catch the full blast of one.

  “Lieutenant, I don’t know if my MOBS can stop that thing. Are your forces ready?” Slater asked, beginning to fear what was coming. His drones and reapers were in hot pursuit of the cyborg down the stairwell, but the creature was so much faster than his MOBS.

  “We got this, sir,” the lieutenant replied while pulling back the charging handle of the machine gun he had aimed at the hatch on the far side of the compartment. The shooting range ran a quarter of the length of the ship and had been packed with defenses for just this type of assault. Three reinforced bunkers allowed his humans—and the attached gnomish bridge crew—a protected firing position. Each bunker was equipped with a heavy machine gun like the ones his reapers used, as well as controls for the various explosives and mines in the area.

  The elf cyborg hit the third deck and stopped, placing several devices around the passageway. Once it was done, the first reapers had made it down the stairwell and began to engage their target. Another green shield popped up to stop their fire; the devices the elf had placed must have been pieces of a portable shield generator. Slater had to get his hands on that tech. The field held strong even as more and more reapers and defensive drones poured fire into it. Running farther down the corridor, the elf used its metallic arms to spin open the hatch leading to the gun range.

  Rushing in with its impossible speed, the cyborg hit a wall of incoming fire. Heavy machine gun rounds from the crew-served weapons, blasts from the mines, fire from two turrets, and the rifles of the gnomish bridge crew met the abomination. For the first time, the elf staggered, its shield glowing brighter as it tried to compensate for the amount of damage it was receiving. With a disturbing grin plastered on its face, the elf raised its arms as Slater felt a magical power building within it. Having only moments to act, Slater placed a shield over the bunker his human soldiers were using as cover. Just in time, the glowing blue dome snapped into place as the cyborg’s shield exploded outward, releasing all the energy it had absorbed.

  The deck rippled as the power pushed through, the destructive energy smashing aside all the carefully placed defenses in the compartment. Slater felt the blast like a bad cramp in his gut, the pain making it a struggle to maintain the shield over the humans. Mercifully, the blast ended after blowing the hatch off at the far end of the room and venting the force of the blast through the storage compartments.

  Hobbling a bit from a bent strut in one of its legs and missing one of its metallic arms, the elf moved toward the surviving humans. Knocked senseless from the blast despite the shield protecting them, the humans tried to rouse themselves. The elf’s gait steadied as it continued its approach, the metal components of its body repairing themselves as Slater watched. The plasma weapons over the elf’s shoulders fizzled and failed as it tried to fire upon the bunker.

  Lieutenant Camden staggered up and grabbed hold of the machine gun, then unsuccessfully tried to fire the weapon. His brain, addled from the blast, took several moments to realize the weapon was not only jammed but that the barrel was also bent at a ninety-degree angle. The lieutenant drew his pistol and began to pop off rounds at the approaching automaton. Private Harris also came to and rooted around the debris inside the bunker, looking for one of the rifles that had been scattered by the blast. Slater could see that Private Long had more serious injuries and would not be waking anytime soon.

  A quick check inside the other two bunkers revealed only dead gnomish bridge crew MOBS. The pistol fire from the lieutenant ceased, drawing Slater’s gaze. The elf stood in front of the small firing slit of the bunker, and a pair of spears thrust through, their blades barely clearing the opening. With a sickening thump, Lieutenant Camden’s head dropped to the deck with a small bounce.

  Private Harris screamed in rage while pointing his rifle through the firing slit, only to see that his enemy was gone. Spinning around, Harris saw the elf leap down into the bunker with him, spears twirling. Whatever damage the thing had picked up from the blast was nearly repaired. Harris placed the muzzle of his rifle into the cyborg’s chest, aiming through the clear covering and at the thing’s beating heart. Without a shield in place to deflect the damage, the heavy rifle rounds slammed into the cyborg, staggering it backward and causing its spears to just miss the furious private.

  With what must have been the last few rounds in the magazine, the hard shell over the cyborg’s chest cracked, then shattered. The final two shots from Harris’s weapon pulverized the cyborg’s heart and lungs, dropping it to the ground as the ruined organs and an oily residue pooled around the creature. Slater watched in stunned silence as Harris looked at his decapitated commander and then back to the seriously wounded Private Long.

  Slater ordered a pair of drones to gather up Private Harris and bring him to the med bay—or at least he tried to. His connection with the ship and his MOBS had been severed, the explosion of power from the cyborg having done more than just simple blast damage. He tried to review his logs, damage reports, or anything at his disposal that might reveal the problem.

  “Commodore, can you help me get Long to the med bay?” Harris asked as he struggled to drag the injured private back. Only now did Slater notice that the cyborg’s flashing spears hadn’t missed Harris entirely. His left hand was severed at the wrist; the energy sparking around the weapon had cauterized the wound. “Commodore? Can you hear me?” Harr
is asked. Slater tried to speak, finding that comms were also disabled. Harris grabbed Long by one hand and started slowly dragging his friend out of the bunker.

  Slater tried to change his viewpoint to check on the rest of the battle, but he was stuck with his current view inside the gun range. Harris dragged Long toward the med bay as Slater’s vision faded and he disconnected from the world. Slowly, his consciousness returned, along with his vision. He could shift his view slowly from one compartment to the next, but only with a great deal of effort. Speech was still unavailable to him, as was any connection to his ship or MOBS. He must have been out for only a minute or two, Slater figured after looking inside the med bay and seeing Harris close the cover on a treatment pod with Long inside.

  Harris’s face was a rictus of pain. The wound caused by the cyborg’s spear had slowly spread up his arm, burning away the flesh and bone as it went. Slater tried to speak to him, tried to link to a drone to help the private, but his attempts failed. With a final effort, Harris hauled himself into another of the treatment pods, which sealed around him. The automated systems in the pod read his injuries and mercifully placed him under sedation.

  It was the blast—it had to be. Something about the blast had affected his core. The explosion around the cyborg was only a secondary effect; it was an EMP blast! A force designed not to disable electronics but his core. It had to be the answer, but why didn’t it have an effect on the core-based ships attached to his vessel? Range? Perhaps. The fact that the cyborg had waited until it was fairly close to his core before firing it off might indicate there was a range issue. It could also have been designed specifically for his core’s energy signature. Slater couldn’t tell for sure, but he did need to check in on the battle. If he couldn’t connect to his MOBS, would they still be in the fight?