Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Along here,” said Griffin, his eyes darting across the screens. The greens, oranges and reds reflected from his visor and the highlights made his skin seem unnaturally pale. “Got it!”

  Conway watched as Griffin brought up a couple of menus and then selected one of the options. Before he was done, the floor beneath shook, not violently, but enough to be noticeable.

  “We’ve stopped,” said Dominguez. “That means we’re in the lifter’s hold.”

  “I’m almost finished,” Griffin replied. “Let’s hope this works.” He poked at the screen and stepped back. “The bridge door is unlocked.”

  “Will the Raggers know?”

  “If they were watching closely, they might have seen the words on the control panel change. I’d be more worried that they’re preparing to disembark.”

  “Through the airlock.”

  “That’s the only way they can go.”

  By now, Conway was sure the last ten Raggers were on the bridge. He liked the idea of them being contained and would have preferred them to stay put. Since it wasn’t his choice to make, the next best thing was an ambush. He was two steps towards the exit when he pulled up.

  “Can you close the outer airlock door from here, sir?”

  “Sure can. Want me to?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Griffin didn’t ask further questions. “Done. I can’t close the inner door from here because it’s manually operated. The outer one is closed to the Raggers, unless they have another one of those override devices.”

  Wheels turned in Conway’s head. “We shouldn’t need longer than a few moments, sir.” He left the security room, found Kemp and tapped him on the shoulder. “Unsling that launcher. You’re coming up front with me.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Conway dashed for the steps. In his head he calculated the distance between the bridge and the airlock. The Raggers were faster than a human, but they also had further to go. It was going to be tight.

  By the time he reached the top of the second flight, Conway’s breathing had deepened from the exertion. Climbing was still a damn sight easier in standard gravity conditions than the planets where it felt as if you weighed an extra two hundred pounds. He was fit and his heartrate dropped quickly towards normal.

  The final turning which led onto the airlock corridor lay ahead and Conway listened carefully for movement. At first it was quiet. The technology in his combat suit didn’t let him down and the microphone detected the overlapping sound of light footsteps. It was like the Raggers didn’t quite make full contact with the ground as they ran.

  Kemp knew what was expected of him. He spun the stubby launcher up onto his shoulder in a smooth movement that betrayed his past experience.

  “Charging.”

  The weapon emitted a quiet clink as its internal motor pushed a rocket from the magazine into the launch tube. Calm as you like, Kemp took a long sideways step until he was facing along the length of the warship towards the airlock.

  “Got you!”

  Conway closed his eyes when he heard Kemp say the words. The rocket whooshed from the launcher and Kemp jumped back into cover.

  “Total wipeout!” he shouted.

  Bright light filled the corridor. Conway hunched against the wall, hoping that his snap evaluation of the behavior of a large explosive in a confined space wasn’t going to see them all killed.

  Compressed, superhot air roared along the corridor and buffeted the squad. Conway had never lost the habit of squinting even when the visor of his combat suit protected his face. He narrowed his eyes and in less than a second he knew the gamble had paid off. The accelerated plasma from the blast didn’t do much more than caress the soldiers before it retreated and was gone. In its wake, silence and, Conway hoped, death.

  “How many?” he asked Kemp.

  “Must have been every last one of the bastards, sir.”

  Conway didn’t ask for confirmation - it wasn’t as if Kemp had enough time to perform a headcount.

  “Let’s have a look,” he said.

  Somehow, a few of the lighting strips had survived the explosion and they provided sufficient illumination for Conway to see the length of the passage. Near to the airlock the walls had a faint red glow, indicating the place of the rocket’s detonation. Not much remained of the aliens in this area – a few blackened lumps littered the floor, with more stuck to the walls and ceiling. Further along, shapes moved.

  “A couple made it,” said Conway, zooming in for a better look.

  Two of the Raggers had avoided complete incineration – they were at the far end of the passage where it turned towards the mess room. Their stealth suits had failed and their injuries looked extensive and agonizing. One of the aliens, oblivious to Conway, crawled towards the airlock as if it believed it could escape.

  Conway took aim and shot both dead without remorse. He felt no guilt and he waited a few seconds longer in case any more wanted to chance a sprint for the airlock.

  He rose from his crouch and beckoned the others to follow. The dead Raggers stank, like rotting meat put on the barbecue. Conway tried not to look too closely and stepped around the worst of the carnage. He heard a thump and a piece of kicked Ragger flesh sailed past him.

  “Kemp, stop that.”

  “How did you know it was me?”

  “Call it an educated guess.”

  To Conway’s relief, they encountered no more Raggers. He didn’t drop his guard and advanced cautiously until they came to the blast door for the bridge. It was open.

  “Kemp, with me,” he said.

  They climbed the steps and entered the bridge. At first glance it was empty and it wasn’t until he’d checked every shadow of the small room that Conway was happy to declare it clear.

  Griffin came up the steps, while Lockhart and the other three soldiers held the lower area. Conway was tempted to join them, but figured he needed to be on top of what was happening here.

  “The Raggers have been pissing about,” said Griffin. “Stupid button-pushers.”

  “They’ve had a go at the sensor panel as well, sir,” said Dominguez. “It was mostly offline anyway.”

  “Bring up what you can,” said Griffin. “While I take a look here.”

  This was the moment when the known elements of the plan changed into the unknown elements and Conway waited to see what Griffin would come up with.

  “The warhead has accepted my codes and it’s online. Now to decide what the hell we’re going to do with it.”

  Conway was a little disappointed that Griffin didn’t have a clear idea of what to do. He supposed that nobody could read the future and often it was the man or woman who had the most talent at guesswork who came out on top.

  “Sensors up,” said Dominguez.

  “Check out the comms while you’re on,” said Griffin.

  “Will do, sir. Once I’m done here.”

  The bridge front screen lit up. It wasn’t made from glass so it couldn’t crack, but the material was warped, which added an undulation to the image.

  “Well damn,” said Dominguez.

  The sensor feed marked Front 2 on the screen gave a sharp image of the lifter’s bay. The prevalent color was grey, with a few large blue symbols on the walls. Most of the illumination was from daylight coming in the open bay doors, though Conway saw numerous dim light sources studding the walls.

  As far as he could make out, the Star Burner’s nose faced the rear of the lifter’s secondary bay. The space was lined with gantries and walkways, along with two visible platforms which jutted from the side walls. These platforms were mostly empty except for a few storage containers, and a mobile crane was parked on the nearest. The vehicle didn’t look much different to anything which came out of a human or Fangrin factory.

  On the single functioning underside feed, Conway saw the rectangular opening for the bay. The doors were open and Satra was visible, far below. The lifter was climbing straight up, already on its journey to wherever the Ragg
ers wanted it to go.

  “They’re still bringing us towards that left-hand platform,” said Dominguez, pointing at the Front 2 feed. “I can’t see signs of enemy personnel waiting to board.”

  “I think we’re a meal to be eaten later,” Griffin replied. “Once they’re away from New Destiny and back on home turf.”

  “Works for me,” said Conway. “I thought they would have a thousand troops waiting to cut open the airlock doors and come onboard.”

  “It might give us a chance,” Griffin agreed. “The Unity League lifters don’t usually carry a large contingent of soldiers – the Ragger ships could be the same.”

  Dominguez made a few alterations to the sensors. Many of the Star Burner’s arrays had failed, so she couldn’t generate a 360-degree image. Conway doubted the bay held any surprises beyond what was already visible.

  “Let’s check out those comms,” said Dominguez. “I guess we could do with some guidance.” She went quiet, listening. “I’ve been able to push a signal through to Durham.”

  Conway breathed out in relief. If the base was answering, that meant the Raggers hadn’t dropped incendiaries on the town. The rest of the news wasn’t encouraging.

  “The Raggers aren’t patient,” said Dominguez. “They’re demanding immediate capitulation.”

  “Are they aware that Colonel Doyle can’t offer any such thing?” asked Griffin.

  “It’s gone way above Colonel Doyle, sir. The Unity League Council has three representatives on New Destiny.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Nobody seems to know, sir. It’s like they’ve cut the military out of the loop while they try to figure out a way to produce a gold bar from a turd. And word from the base is that time is running out. They believe the Raggers are going to make a second demonstration of their power in the near future.”

  “Is Colonel Doyle there?”

  “I’m waiting for him to reach the comms.”

  “Put him on the bridge speakers. We all need to hear this.”

  When Colonel Doyle entered the channel, he sounded pissed off. Griffin explained the situation in short sentences.

  “We require guidance, Colonel. Most of all, we need data on the Raggers – specifically, where they’ve positioned their spaceships.”

  “The lifter came out of nowhere, Captain. We picked it up a hundred thousand klicks from the surface and it came straight for Satra. It’s climbing vertically and you’re going to leave the atmosphere in about sixty seconds. As for the rest of the fleet, we can’t pin them down. Damn stealth craft. They should learn how to fight fair.”

  “Where’re our own ships? Last I remember it, the Invigilator carrier group wasn’t much more than a few hours away.”

  “It’s on its way, Captain. Five hours. Whether our ships can stop the Raggers before they incinerate half the continent is another matter.”

  “Five hours is too long. I need you to speak to anyone who can help us, Colonel. Otherwise, we’re going to use this nuke at the first chance we get.”

  “I’ll get on it right away.” Doyle paused, as if he was trying to remember something. “This might interest you – one of our computers converted the Raggers’ alien jibber-jabber into something that fits inside our combat suit language modules. I’ll send the files up to the Star Burner.”

  “Appreciated,” said Griffin, with a shrug. “I don’t expect we’ll get a chance to parlay, but if we do, I’m sure it’ll come in useful.”

  “There’s more,” said Colonel Doyle. “The word Ragger is an expletive. I heard it came from something one of the soldiers heard on Graxol-4. That damned alien bastard was swearing at us and now it’s the word we use to describe their whole damn species. Ain’t that a treat?”

  “Sure is,” said Griffin.

  “They’re closing the bay doors,” said Conway, his eyes on the underside sensor feed. Two monumental sections of movable alloy slid effortlessly together.

  “Colonel, we’re going to lose comms,” said Griffin. The channel fizzed – a sure sign the link was weakening.

  Doyle managed to get out a few more words and then he was cut off. Dominguez tried to re-establish the connection, without luck.

  “No dice,” she said. “We’re on our own.”

  To Conway, the news wasn’t unexpected. Griffin looked like he wanted to swear. Then, he took a deep breath and smiled. “In that case, we’d best make it work. Whatever it takes.”

  Words were easy. Conway wasn’t so confident they’d convert into reality.

  Chapter Eight

  The situation for Conway and the others, already complicated and uncertain, suddenly became even more confused. While she was trying to re-link to the Durham base, Lieutenant Dominguez found something entirely unexpected. She announced it eloquently.

  “Holy crap, sir.”

  Griffin crossed to the comms station and Conway followed. The equipment was technical, covered in buttons and dials, with about a dozen separate displays. A row of green lights had Dominguez and Griffin excited and Conway waited for the explanation.

  “These are your combat suits,” said Dominguez, pointing at five of the greens. “These two here are the flight suits belonging to me and Captain Griffin.”

  “Leaving another fifteen or twenty green lights still on the panel,” said Conway. He took a stab at the answer. “Ragger suits?”

  “No, Lieutenant, not Raggers. Fangrin.”

  Conway suddenly understood the excitement, though he couldn’t immediately grasp the ramifications. “These Raggers have been through Fangrin territory before they came to New Destiny.”

  “Looks like,” said Griffin. “Got themselves some other prisoners on the way.”

  “Can we speak with them, sir?” asked Conway. “Now that we’re allies and all.”

  “That’s exactly what we’re about to try,” Griffin replied. He nodded at Dominguez. “Do it – bridge speakers.”

  The link formed immediately. “Hello,” said Griffin. “I am Captain Jake Griffin of the ULAF navy. Who is this?”

  A Fangrin spoke. It might have been angry; Conway couldn’t be sure. “I am Akandar. What do you want, human?”

  “I would like to speak to your commanding officer.”

  “Yes.”

  The Fangrin diverted the channel and a different green light on the comms console flashed slowly. A new voice spoke, rough-edged, dry and wheezing. “This is Jostral, captain of the Gradior. I was not expecting to hear a human voice in this Ragger shit-hole.”

  “Our ship was blown to pieces and the wreckage picked up by this lifter. What is your situation?”

  “We are prisoners here, waiting for our enemies to cut our throats. If I don’t strangle them with their intestines first.”

  “The Raggers attacked our planet and dropped incendiaries onto one of our cities. We will destroy them for it.”

  The Fangrin laughed. It sounded painful and Conway guessed the Raggers hadn’t been treating their prisoners well. “Welcome to your new foe, human. We have seen the same and far worse. It is an easy thing to say you will destroy them when you have no means to accomplish it.”

  Griffin raised his hand and tapped his knuckles twice against the side of his flight helmet. “Our spaceship won’t fly, but the nuclear warhead in its hold is online and available. What can you tell us about this Ragger fleet?”

  Conway thought he detected a note of interest in the Fangrin’s response. “My warship was captured almost three weeks ago,” said the alien. “They focused one of their damned disruptor weapons against us until we crashed into the surface of a planet.”

  “You were brought here in your warship?” asked Griffin. He was definitely interested.

  “No, human. The Raggers have methods to separate a ship and its crew. We were carried here on a transport.”

  Griffin looked disappointed. “What happened to your ship?”

  “The Gradior came separately. If they haven’t sent it elsewhere, my cruiser is within th
e main holding bay of this lifter.”

  This was something. Conway could see the pieces of it fall into place and he knew the opportunity had presented itself, like a thanksgiving turkey flying through an open window on a golden tray. Griffin and the Fangrin captain talked until an agreement was reached. The negotiations weren’t tough – both sides had something to offer and everyone hated the Raggers. When Dominguez cut the channel, the excitement was unmistakable. Conway felt it himself.

  “Break the Fangrin out of their cell, shoot a few Raggers and steal a heavy cruiser out of the lifter’s hold,” said Griffin. “All the while, the sixty-minute timer on our nuke counts down, ready to welcome our alien buddies to the wonders of acute, debilitating radiation sickness.”

  There was one aspect of the plan about which Conway wanted clarification, since his wife and daughter were going to die if it went wrong. “What if we need to abort the detonation, sir?”

  Griffin understood and didn’t try to sugar-coat the response. “We know that the Raggers aren’t actively jamming our comms on this lifter. As long as it stays like that, I can end the timer remotely. Or bring it forward if required. Otherwise, we’re relying on the Raggers taking this spaceship into close proximity of their other spaceships. Colonel Doyle said we were leaving the atmosphere. It’s got to be enough.” He tapped his flight helmet again.

  Conway had his own superstitions and he checked the mag on his rifle. Full. “We’ve got some dogs to rescue.”

  It took Griffin less than ten seconds to set the timer on the nuclear warhead. He straightened. “Best set manual timers on our suit computers, so we don’t forget.”

  “Already done.”

  Conway got onto the comms. “We’ve got a new mission folks and you’re really going to like this one. Corporal Freeman, you’ve got two minutes to dig out a laser cutter. Take Private Barron in case you run into any hostiles. There’s a weapons store two turnings beyond the mess room. Captain Griffin has disabled the door security.”