“Went away where?” Chipper asked.
“Up.” Stines’ right arm stabbed overhead for a moment.
Chipper scanned the low gravity space in the heart of the chamber again. Apart from the scattering of resources, creatures were moving up there. Two workers flying, their double sets of wings helping them cut across the chamber with a sack or net carried between them. A worker coasting through the middle. The thicker shape of a soldier also flying, thankfully heading well away from their position.
“I think they’re attracted to trouble,” Chipper commed. “If we can keep it icy, maybe no more will come for us.” He touched Vazak’s arm, then jerked his head the way they’d come. “We go.”
Her face fell momentarily before she replied. “Okay.”
Chipper retraced his steps in a trot, glancing back and up. “Stines, we came in exactly halfway around from those teardrop-shaped ships. Adjust your heading accordingly.”
“Coulda told me earlier.”
“We’ll wait by the entrance and cover your approach.”
Chipper was halfway back when the Lioness’s comms crackled to life again. “…there?” The tone was shrill.
What now?
“Copy, Lieutenant.”
“Took … ime! Multiple conta…!”
“Lioness, bad signal. Did you say contacts?”
“Yes, dammit! Multip …” A sizzle of static then nothing.
Chipper put everything into an ungainly sprint, pushing himself. “Lioness. I need details. Try again.”
Nothing.
“Sounds bad,” Stines commed.
The doorway was less than a hundred paces away. The pursuit runner had set down another eighty beyond it. Chipper said, “Hold on, Lioness. We’re close.”
Abruptly, the pilot’s comms were back and they were clear. “—interference! It’s confusing systems, diluting shields. I’ve lost weapons con. I’ve lost most diagnostics. Can’t reach Assured.”
“Real bad,” Stines gasped.
“I’m nearly at the passageway,” Chipper sent. “How many? How many contacts?”
“Twenty. More maybe. Hurry the hack up!”
“Copy.”
With Vazak at his shoulder, Chipper came in faster than the door’s sensors—or senses—were ready for. He ran into the sealed membrane only as it began parting. It felt like hitting a taut tarpaulin, bouncing him back into Vazak and sending them stumbling a few meters. She recovered first, pushing through the exit ahead of him, firing early and hissing with aggression. He was into the passage two seconds after her. Expecting to see the Lioness haloed by its shields, the sight of three Xenthracr soldiers on its roof brought him up short.
No shields then.
Many more had crowded around the landing struts and were attempting to climb onto its hull. Vazak had already fired a half dozen rounds into the midst of that crowd, felling two. Chipper added three more rounds, felling another. The crowd on the floor turned his way; the ones on the roof took no notice—and he gasped as he realized they were spitting onto the roof.
Spitting acid, Stines had said.
Holy hell.
“…compromised …” A random burst of comms from the Lioness, there and gone again like a phantom.
Vazak had come to a stop a few meters ahead of him, concentrating fire on the mob that now surged their way. Chipper sent a long volley at the ones on the T15’s roof, blasting all three off and over the far side. He swung his aim down to join Vazak’s. Half the crowd were fallen now, writhing and jerking while their comrades scurried across or around them.
“Move your ass!” he commed to Stines and shifted aim closer to the floor, taking out legs, eliminating the enemy’s mobility.
It was desperate and it might be futile. This current rate of fire wasn’t going to stop them all. There’d been far more than twenty hostiles around the pursuit runner to begin with, probably double that.
Vazak was signaling for another chargepack. He tossed her one, then crouched and slotted a mini grenade into his rifle’s underslung launcher. The passage floor opened onto space, but the walls didn’t. Chipper aimed to the left of the pack and launched the mininade. The explosion ripped through the attackers, spewing bodies and body parts in all directions. At such close range, the blast wave smacked into him like a titan’s fist. He went with it, rolling onto his back and up to a crouch again. Vazak was on her back. His HUD registered zero shrapnel damage—he hoped hers was doing the same.
A lone Xenthracr had been thrown close to her. It reared up as she rolled over onto her knees, oblivious to its presence. Its mandibles spread wide. The purple sacs at its chin swelled.
Acid spit!
Chipper put three rounds into it, shattering its head and sending the body crumpling against the wall. Vazak straightened and reflexively put another round through it. Chipper emptied the rest of his clip into the surviving hostiles, stilling them all. Popping out the depleted chargepack, he moved to Vazak. She was up but wobbling.
“Okay?”
“Some fun,” she said. She indicated the blackened area left by the explosion. “Some not fun.”
He winced an apology as he shoved in a fresh charger. “I’ll warn you next time.”
“Missed the excitement,” Stines said in his speakers. “Dammit.” The other Peacer stood just inside the membrane-hatchway now, his rifle slung and his hands on his knees.
Yeah, great timing.
Chipper ventured a few steps closer to the Lioness. Progressing further than that would require stepping onto the pulsing, steaming mess of Xenthracr corpses and their leaking ichor. “Status, Lieutenant? Can you fly?” When nothing came through on his comms, he added, “If you can hear me, we need you to open up.” A moment later, the side ramp jerked and began opening. “Hopefully that’s a yes. Stines, on me. We’ll have to shoot every one of them in the head as we move to make sure.”
“Fine with me,” said Stines, drawing closer. “Just hope they’re not like roaches. Hope they actually die after headshots.”
Chipper glanced back at the other Peacer’s combat suit. Areas across one shoulder and leg appeared scoured, scuffed up, no doubt the result of the earlier acid spitting he’d endured.
Holy hell. Glad they didn’t break into the Lioness.
He called for Vazak’s attention, put his rifle to a nearby twitching body and euthanized it. “All of them,” he told her.
She gave a grunted reply and followed suit with the two closest to her.
“… hear me?”
Catanno was back on comms, the signal clear now. He was visible through the gap between the partly lowered ramp and the hull. The hatch had frozen like that, a quarter of the way open.
“Copy,” Chipper replied. “What’s wrong with the ramp?”
“Same thing that’s wrong with everything else. They’ve hit us with some kind of interference. It’s hacked up all the systems.”
It’s like that Domain Surface computer virus all over again.
“Are you coming over?” the pilot added.
“Trying to.” He moved another meter closer, placing his feet in the gaps between bodies, squeezing off headshots.
“Maybe don’t bother,” Catanno responded.
Chipper froze in place.
Stines swore and commed, “Why the hack not?”
“The ship’s not flying anywhere soon and the comms are fried.”
“Hull compromised?” asked Chipper.
“No, you stopped them in time. But essential systems are.”
“Then in there is better than out here.” He took a few more steps, shooting as he went. Vazak was already several meters closer to the pursuit runner. Stines was out to the side and picking his way along the wall.
“Maybe not,” Catanno said. “How’s the skiff? We could fly that.”
“Fly it where? Through the outer membrane that ate it in the first place? We don’t exactly know how to make it work.” Another step, another blam. He pointed his muzzle past the
Lioness to where the passageway curved out of sight a hundred or so meters ahead. “You gonna fly out the other end? We can’t even see down there, so we don’t know there’s a way through. Could you even fit the skiff past the Lioness?” Step. Blam. Blam. Blam.
“We stay here, we’re trapped.”
The pilot’s voice had taken on a definite whine and it was getting on Chipper’s nerves. He indicated the smooth scar on the wall where the workers had repaired the breach. “Assured will send help. They’ll see where we came in and they’ll find a way through too.”
“But—”
“Oh, shut the hell up!” Stines snarled and vaulted over a Xenthracr body, firing into it as he did so. “Just listen to Chip.”
“We have e-suits,” Chipper said into the silence that followed. Step. blam. “There’s four of us to defend our position. We have air scrubbers, food, water.” Step. Blam, blam. “Assured is coming for us. We hold here.”
Another step, another volley of fire. His boots and shins were coated with ichor, he realized. That was going to stink up whatever ship flew him out of here.
His head snapped up at a shout from Vazak. Around the curve ahead crawled more soldiers. Along the floor, the wall, the ceiling. Ten. Fifteen. Thirty.
“Screw this,” he hissed, hurdling bodies without shooting them, racing for the Lioness. He hooked the pilot’s gaze through their respective faceplates. “Get those engines and laser cannons back on line!”
“I already told you—”
“Lieutenant, get your ass back in that chair and try!”
“Uh. Yeah, okay. I’ll … Okay.”
Vazak had beaten him to the T15, rifle slung on her back as she used the hull handholds to climb for a better sniping position. Either she’d read his intentions or she simply thought like he did. It was where he’d been headed. So instead, he angled for the port side of the ship. They’d need various vantage points to defend their position.
“Stines, take starboard side.”
“Got it.”
“Lieutenant?”
“Yeah, what?”
“You got aft cameras operational?”
“Uh, no.”
“Dammit. I was hoping you could see anything coming up behind us and burn it with the thrusters.”
“Thrusters don’t work either, I told you that.”
Had he? It didn’t matter. Here we go again, he thought as he leaned his shoulder against the hull and squeezed his trigger. Please Assured, come get us. Fast.
17
“Gods,” Pan growled. “Now we need to rescue the rescuers. Helm, take us in closer.”
Earlier, Chinyama had shifted the camera drone hanging outside the orbital to a better position, observing the Lioness as it entered the station. Gregory was still shaking his head at what had come shortly after: the mass of Xenthracr workers packing the hole before sealing it. The repair had also sealed the second of two teams inside, cutting off comms traffic with them.
This was a bad idea. He didn’t say it. He wasn’t going to undermine Pan that way. Besides … Coming to Tluaan space was my idea in the first place.
“Captain,” he said. “I think we need to cease all our activity in this system and—”
“Get the hell out of here?” Pan finished. “Tell me something I don’t know. But I’m not leaving without our people.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you should.”
Pan didn’t hear that, wasn’t listening. He was telling his helmsmen to stop a hundred klicks out from the station. “If I have to blow the thing in half, I will. Those worker units can’t repair that, and it’ll give our guys an exit.”
“We can pick them up from space,” Chinyama added, perhaps unnecessarily.
Fowler raised his voice. “Captain. May I suggest something?”
“You have an idea, let’s hear it.”
“You saw what two of my team could do on Chaatu, and again in the hostage situation. You’ve put enough Confederation personnel at risk. Let us help you here. Let us take the lead on this.”
“Less sales pitch, more details, Colonel.”
“We know where your second team went into the orbital and although the enemy sealed that breach, the Lioness must be right inside there. I have an idea for getting them out. You have one skiff left. Fit its work arm with a laser cutter. It cuts another hole there but a bigger one this time. It then pulls back and waits with the cutter ready to chase off any Xenthracr who come snooping or repairing.”
“It pulls back? Who’s getting my people out, then?”
“I am. In his yacht.” He nodded to Gregory who startled.
“The yacht,” said Chinyama. “It’s not a military vessel.”
“It did just fine in the Suuchaat raid. The Ambassador’s pilot did just fine.”
He did, Gregory thought. But he didn’t enjoy it.
“If we’re evaccing crewers, we’ll use the skiff,” insisted Pan, “while Berderhan provides cover.”
“Berderhan has the Xenthracr fighter swarm occupied on the far side of the planet. You don’t want her bringing them back here.”
“Assured can take care of them.”
“Perhaps, but it adds a lot of unnecessary variables.” Pan’s certainty wavered visibly, so Fowler pressed on. “Listen. I’ve studied the yacht’s specs. Sorry, Ambassador, professional reasons only, I assure you. It has an airlock in its belly, yes?”
“An …? Yes, it does.” Catching on, Gregory cleared his throat. “Captain, my ship has an emergency airlock exit to abandon ship. It would also work backwards—you could get four personnel inside in a pinch, even suited up. It might work.”
“His ship also has shields, unlike the skiff,” said Fowler. “And those shields are top of the line, arranged in overlapping arcs like plate armor. It’s possible to—”
“To turn off those arcs individually,” Pan finished for him, “leave a gap for the evacuees to enter while maintaining protection from enemy fire around the rest of the ship.”
“While the skiff cuts a new escape hole in the orbital, Umbrano and Jogianto can EV through the yacht’s airlock, cable themselves to the hull, and provide cover fire and assistance for the evacuees as they try to enter the yacht.”
“What do you say, Gregory? It’s your ship.”
“Absolutely fine with me. If you think it will work.”
“It will work,” Fowler said.
“Four people in the airlock at a time, though,” said Pan, rubbing his chin. “I have six people on that orbital—presuming they all found each other and they’re ready to leave.”
“Hence Jogianto and Umbrano providing cover fire,” Fowler replied. “But there are other options. My Tacticals could EV through the breach and offer support. We could open the skiff to vacuum and the evacuees could spacewalk to it. But the yacht has many advantages, not the least being its shields if the station has a reserve of fighters.”
“How close are we, helm?”
“Seven hundred klicks,” Yassim replied. “Slowing toward the one hundred mark.”
“Good. What else do you need?” he asked Fowler.
“The yacht has medical facilities?”
“It does,” Gregory confirmed. “Enough to get you through an emergency on your way back here.”
“Then the only other thing I need is the Tluaan scientist.”
Gregory frowned. “Chlalloun? Why him?”
“He’s a type of doctor. We have a Tluaan warrior on that orbital …”
“Enough said,” Pan interjected. “Mission’s yours. Envoy Buoun, tell Chlalloun to go with the colonel here.”
The envoy had been present on bridge for a short while, here for just such an eventuality. Chlalloun, however, remained in the cabin assigned him, with Umbrano standing outside it.
Buoun said, “Yes, Captain” and began typing something on his wristwrap.
Fowler tapped his earpiece. “Umbrano? In thirty seconds, take the Tluaan scientist from his quarters and escort him to hangar deck
. He’ll be expecting it.”
Pan turned to his ship systems overseer, Chief Lindberg. “Tell hangar deck to get that laser arm fitted to the second skiff as of five minutes ago.”
She nodded. “Aye, sir.”
“Fowler, I want you and your team off this ship and on your way in ten minutes maximum.”
“Doable.” Fowler gave them all a half-salute and raced toward the lift.
“Can I use your commstation to let Piers know?” Gregory asked.
Pan waved an arm toward Sintopas’s desk. “Ensign, open a private text channel for the Ambassador.”
Grace gave him a dubious look as he passed her but didn’t appear to be challenging the decision. Once the channel was established, Piers didn’t take much convincing. Lives were at stake after all. Gregory signed off and returned to the rail. “Buoun, is Chlalloun okay with this?”
The envoy nodded. “He understands. And yes, he is a medic, so he will be ready to help Vazak if she needs it.”
“I only hope she doesn’t,” Gregory said honestly. The poor Tlaa had already lost half an arm. “I hope none of them do.”
“Westermann!” Pan suddenly barked. “Is the colonel still there?”
She stuck her head out the door. “Lift’s gone, sir.”
“Damn. XO, catch it when it returns. I want you on the skiff too. And Envoy Buoun on the yacht as translator for Chlalloun and Vazak.”
“Sir.” Chinyama gestured for Buoun to precede him.
The envoy gave Gregory an anxious glance as he left, ears twitching, but he voiced no complaint or objection.
I hear you, my friend. Rescue missions, internecine warfare, and funeral services. Neither of us signed up for such things.
And Gregory had a feeling that things would get worse before they got better.
After Fowler commed her, Ana was in the lift to the hangar deck in less than a minute, carrying her rifle and holstered handgun in her arms. There’d been no point strapping them on or slinging them, no point buckling on armor, since she knew she’d be climbing into an e-suit soon. The sidearm would be clipped onto it once she was on the yacht, the rifle tethered to it.
Although why Fowler wanted the Tacticals on the yacht eluded her. If the plan was to EV the stranded survivors across to the skiff, then she should be going on that—to help—and shoot hostiles. The whole thing about climbing out the yacht’s emergency airlock seemed overcomplicated. Not like Fowler at all.
Assured (Envoys Book 2) Page 21