Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2)

by Anthony James

  The soldiers had seen the most brutal side of their opponents during the last few hours and Griffin understood what Conway was telling him. You couldn’t witness something like Satra or the meat room and then forget it all as soon as you found victory.

  It was time to go home.

  “Let’s get away from this planet,” Griffin said. “The Raggers might have inbound ships and I don’t want to fight them unless I have to. Without surface facilities, there’s nothing here for the enemy. We’ll look for the Gradior and I’ll figure out how to get the tharniol drive for the mothership working.”

  He increased the mothership’s speed and headed directly away from the planet. With the controls locked in place, he walked to the comms panel in order to get in touch with the Gradior – assuming it was still in the area.

  “This mothership belongs to the Fangrin as well as the Unity League,” said Zargol, standing up from the sensor unit he was busy patching in.

  “It does,” said Griffin. “If I remember the star charts from the Gradior well enough, the closest world with a repair yard big enough to accommodate this spaceship is in the Unity League.”

  “We should speak to Yeringar.”

  Griffin indicated the comms panel in front of him. “I’ll do what I can to make contact with the Gradior.”

  When he thought about it, Griffin realized what a pain in the ass it would be to repair Prime015. A vessel this big would jam up any shipyard for weeks, slowing repairs and construction for the rest of the fleet. In theory, it would be better if the Fangrin took the mothership to one of their yards.

  For some reason, Griffin didn’t think high command would see it quite the same. Still, he had a responsibility to do what was right for the Unity League and he didn’t want a flashpoint on the bridge of this ship – not after the two sides had worked so well together and particularly because there was no reason for conflict.

  “We’ll flip a coin,” said Kemp. “That’s the fairest method.”

  “Yeah, who needs politics?” said Barron.

  It wasn’t a discussion Griffin wanted to get involved with, though privately he reckoned a coin toss would be the quickest and easiest method to resolve the matter. Doubtless the final negotiated settlement would involve cost, time, endless meetings and a whole new shipyard set up on a planet somewhere between Fangrin and Unity League territory, with a final outcome of the mothership being unavailable for combat for two years.

  He shook away the thoughts and continued his comms search for the Gradior. The Fangrin cruiser wasn’t showing any visible receptors, so it was either out of range, blindside or destroyed. Every one of the three seemed possible. To make matters worse, the mothership’s comms systems required fine-tuning in order to perform an efficient receptor sweep.

  Griffin gave it his best shot and it wasn’t enough. A trained comms officer could do this much faster than he could, while a sensor officer would be able to search for wreckage. Griffin would get there eventually, but it might take hours and with no guarantee of success. Meanwhile, Zargol continued to attach new modules. He’d never get Prime015 close to 100 percent, but every improvement was worthwhile.

  “We’re not going to locate the Gradior,” said Griffin eventually. “It would be preferable for us to take the mothership elsewhere, in order that we can communicate with our superiors.”

  “A human world,” said Zargol.

  “For the moment. Do you trust us?”

  “These soldiers here?” The Fangrin made a gesture to indicate Conway and his squad. “Perhaps. You? Perhaps. The rest of the Unity League? Not yet.”

  “Something needs to give.”

  “This mothership is too important. I cannot decide.”

  “So we all sit here? We’ll never restore FTL comms functionality – not without specialist help. A sublight comms message will take weeks to get anywhere. I would like to re-join the ULAF so I can fight the Raggers.”

  Zargol wasn’t happy and Griffin was gripped by a feeling that they wouldn’t come to an agreement on the issue. He swore inside and realized he was just as intransigent. He didn’t want Prime015 going to a Fangrin world unless Fleet Admiral Stone told him to go ahead and offer it up. As much as Griffin hated to admit it, the Unity League was the junior partner and it couldn’t afford to cede control of this stolen tech.

  He remembered something else.

  “We sent FTL signals from the Gradior to our respective navies. Sooner or later, someone’s going to show up from both sides. Their comms will be able to reach people senior enough to make the decision.”

  “Very well, we wait,” said Zargol.

  It wasn’t the best solution and it committed them to waiting for many hours. Once ships from the two fleets showed up, there’d be further hours, days or weeks of delay while FTL negotiations took place.

  “Our combat suits won’t last forever against this radiation, sir,” said Conway on a private channel. “We came through a few places where the levels weren’t so bad, but that means leaving the bridge to take shelter.”

  “As soon as once of our warships turns up, we’ll have them pick us up.”

  “What if the Fangrin don’t want our soldiers coming onboard? And you said yourself that the ULAF might not commit any warships here. Not if our planets are threatened.”

  “If you’ve got any bright ideas, I’m all ears, Lieutenant.”

  “Sorry, sir. No ideas.”

  Griffin didn’t like waiting and it wasn’t his idea of how to deal with adversity. He spent a few minutes longer in the hunt for the Gradior and found no sign. It seemed likely the cruiser had run into one of the Ragger ships, though he wasn’t ready to accept that Dominguez was dead.

  Prime015 was left as the only member of the local battle group and he checked idly through the data he’d received from ZN116. He’d told the others that he didn’t want to fight with any warships the Raggers might have inbound, but it was best if he knew what to expect.

  The answer wasn’t good.

  “Shit, we’ve got to get moving,” he said.

  “Sir?”

  “The Raggers had another 32 spaceships stationed at this forward base and they left shortly before we got here.” Griffin frantically searched through the data. The name of the destination was a word he recognized and the Raggers couldn’t have known it without pulling details from the Fangrin comms database. “They’re going to Invarol,” he said. “All of them.”

  “You have a fleet there,” said Zargol.

  “Nothing that can stop the Raggers burning the whole planet if they decide that’s what they want to do.”

  “Then we must follow.”

  It was a turnaround that Griffin was not expecting.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to take us into lightspeed.”

  He didn’t know exactly how the tharniol drive activated and was relieved to find the method was straightforward. The detonators fired and the force of them shook the bridge floor. With the lightspeed drive warming up, Griffin worked out how to input the destination into the navigational system. Again, straightforward.

  Eight minutes after Zargol agreed to commit Prime015 to Invarol, the mothership entered a high multiple of lightspeed. On the bridge, Griffin did what he could to prepare.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The mothership’s journey through lightspeed was affected by constant turbulence – worse than Griffin could remember. The vessel was solid enough that the effects were muted, but everyone onboard knew it was happening. The feeling of undulation reminded Griffin of an ocean liner forging through the swells of a rough sea and he was required to adjust his balance all the time.

  “I’d like as many of these comms and sensor units tied in as possible,” he said. “I estimate this journey will take six or seven hours. When we arrive, I’d like us to be battle ready.”

  Zargol knew what he was doing and he plugged wires into ports without paying attention to his hands. Griffin would have preferred to have more people
helping out, but Conway wasn’t ready to accept the bridge was secure. In the circumstances, it was pointless to take risks.

  “By my reckoning, the Raggers had nearly an hour head start on us, sir,” said Conway.

  Griffin heard the unspoken question. “By the time we arrive, that lead will have been cut right down, Lieutenant. A fleet travels at the speed of the slowest member and I’m convinced there’ll be variation amongst the Ragger spaceships.”

  “And this mothership is fast?”

  “See this gauge?” Griffin tapped one of the screens.

  Conway peered at it for a long moment. “We’re travelling at zero klicks per second.”

  “At lightspeed, the measuring tools go screwy, so I can’t tell you how fast Prime015 is going.”

  “Then how do you know?”

  Griffin shrugged. “I bet you know exactly how many bullets are in your gun without counting them out of the muzzle or checking the readout.”

  “You get a feel for it.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, you get a feel for it.” Griffin pressed his hand to the console and felt the vibration through his palm. “This mothership is damned fast and I don’t need a gauge to tell me it’s true.”

  “Satra was bad, sir. The Raggers might do a whole lot worse to Invarol.”

  “I’m sure they will if we don’t surrender.”

  “And if we do surrender, it’ll be a whole lot worse again.”

  “We both saw those spaceships on the forward base, Lieutenant. The Fangrin said the Raggers carry meat in them. That’s not a future I want for anyone.”

  Conway’s face hardened. “I never thought it would come to this. I could see how the Fangrin were going to beat us, but at least they’re…” his face twisted as he thought of the right word, “…honorable. There’s no shame in losing to an opponent who’s meaner and tougher than you are, as long as they know how to handle victory. The Raggers don’t know and it makes me scared of what’s coming.”

  “That makes two of us, Lieutenant, and I hope the fight doesn’t make us do things that take away our humanity.”

  “That’ll be the hardest fight of all, sir. Clinging on to what we are.”

  Griffin smiled. “I know you don’t like spaceships too much, Lieutenant, but how would you like a crash course in operating a Ragger comms console?”

  “Not too much, sir.”

  “I knew I could rely on you. Come over here and watch.”

  In spite of his reluctance, Conway had something of a knack and in thirty minutes, he was capable of searching for receptors, opening a channel and sending a message. It was enough to take some of the weight off Griffin’s shoulders and he’d need as much help as possible once they got to Invarol. He chose his next target.

  “Zargol, what do you know about sensors?”

  “Very little.”

  “That’s more than nothing. This is your chance to help out against the Raggers.”

  “Very well, I will assist.”

  Another thirty-minute crash course was enough to teach Zargol the basics. Once again, Griffin didn’t expect miracles, just enough to give him the edge in a pinch situation.

  With his makeshift crew ready and not-quite-willing, Griffin kept up with his own efforts. The Raggers used a logical method to control the mothership, but it would require months of practice before muscle memory took over. This wasn’t a situation which allowed Griffin to take his time and he did the best he could.

  A six or seven hour lightspeed journey was the kind of duration Griffin usually hated. It wasn’t long enough to settle into a routine, yet it wasn’t short enough that you could think about something else and then find you’d arrived. On this occasion, Griffin was left craving more time to learn the controls, while he also wanted to just get on with.

  After six hours and five minutes, Prime015’s tharniol drive went silent.

  “This is it, folks. Be ready for anything,” he said.

  “Where are we going to appear, sir?” asked Conway.

  “I don’t know, Lieutenant. It didn’t seem wise to start pissing about with the navigational system, so I put in the coordinates and let the computers do the rest.”

  “We could end up in the middle of the Ragger fleet?”

  “There’s a variation in every lightspeed journey. Hopefully not right in the middle.”

  The transition happened and Griffin shook off the giddiness. Nearby, Zargol peered at a dozen screens covered in static.

  “That’ll clear up in a moment.”

  The static vanished and was replaced by darkness.

  “Find where we are. Find the Raggers,” Griffin instructed.

  “I think we’re joining a battle network, sir,” said Conway.

  “Yes!” said Griffin in excitement. “They don’t know what happened at their forward base. We might be able to hurt them before they realize what’s happening.”

  “Here is the planet Invarol,” said Zargol. “I estimate the distance at two thousand klicks.”

  Griffin didn’t need to see the image and knew the planet from memory. Much of the surface was too hot for life and was covered in bright yellow sandy deserts. A wide strip of habitable land circled Invarol and a few billion people lived on what amounted to twenty percent of the surface area.

  “What’s on the battle network, Lieutenant?”

  “Thirty-two friendlies, sir. I’ve received a message asking what the hell we’re doing here.”

  “Tell them we’ve come to help out.”

  “Do I have to use special words or just say it like that?”

  “Pretend you’re the arrogant captain of a powerful warship and that’ll convince them.”

  “I’ll do what I can. I’ve received another question asking why our stealth modules are offline.”

  “Shit,” said Griffin. He hadn’t been given the opportunity to test out the mothership’s stealth hardware since Zargol tied in all of the additional sensor modules. To his relief, the stealth modules were available and he activated them immediately. A few power readings changed, but other than that, there was no drama.

  With that done, Griffin tried to figure out what was happening outside. Neither Zargol nor Conway had an idea of what details were critical and which were merely important. Therefore, Griffin was required to ask several questions in order to get a picture.

  “The Ragger fleet are still moving into position,” he said. “That means their last ships only got here recently. It’s unlikely there’s been any conflict and even less likely the enemy have communicated with anyone on Invarol.”

  “What happens next?” asked Conway.

  “You speak to the Drantil base and keep them informed. And see if you can make contact with our fleet.”

  “I can’t see any additional receptors, sir.”

  “They’ll be masked - a spaceship captain doesn’t want every kid on the ground with a transmitter asking if he can have a ride. I showed you how to look for them.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll find them.”

  The pilot’s console was able to display information from the other stations and Griffin accessed the comms and sensor data. He could see Zargol trying to obtain focus on the planet, while Conway entered a comms response with the speed of a one-fingered typist. Meanwhile, queries from the Ragger fleet scrolled up the screen as fast as Griffin could read them. The enemy were suspicious and he couldn’t blame them. This wasn’t off to a good start.

  Fortunately for Griffin, the battle network data gave him most of the information he required. The Ragger fleet was a few hundred klicks away and it was time to join them. Griffin copied the speed of the other ships moving into position, in the hope that it would be what the Raggers expected.

  “One big lifter, two other meat carriers and twenty-nine warships,” he said. “They brought everything.”

  Zargol finally established a useful feed – one which encompassed most of the Ragger fleet. The aliens were in a tight formation and, according to the battle network data, ever
y single one of them had their stealth modules operational.

  “While we’re on their network we can see them,” said Griffin. “If they cut us off, we’ll lose sight.”

  “And they’ll lose sight of us,” said Zargol.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure. This is Ragger tech and they’ll know how to work around it.”

  “There’s no way in hell we’ve got the firepower to knock out all of them,” muttered Conway. “Even if we take them by complete surprise.”

  Griffin agreed with the assessment. The mothership packed a real punch, but not enough that it could wipe out this many spaceships.

  The Raggers had a few ships in their fleet which Griffin didn’t like the look of. One in particular was bigger than a ULAF carrier and packing dozens of external armaments. Most of the comms traffic originated from this spaceship and it was certainly where the officer in charge was stationed.

  He glanced at the comms screen again. Conway was slow to enter his responses, but he was doing a good impression of a pissed-off senior officer. Whether the Raggers would buy it for long was another matter. Griffin had no doubt that the enemy had sent off a few FTL messages, requesting confirmation that Prime015 was in the right place.

  “Someone on a ship called LPrime03 wants to talk with you, sir.”

  “Tell them I’m busy and that they should proceed with the plan. We will assist with the subjugation of the human fleet and then we will return to base.”

  “Yes, sir. I will tell them that.”

  Griffin piloted the mothership past the fringe members of the Ragger fleet. The aliens kept their larger ships central and the smaller ones spread in a random pattern further out, with only a few hundred meters separating each vessel from its neighbors. Griffin wasn’t shy and he forced a couple of the spaceships to shift position in order that he could fly Prime015 into the center.

  “Here we are,” he said. “Take a look at those Ragger scumbags, everyone. We’re going to blow the crap out of them soon enough.”

  “Bring it on, that’s what I say,” said Kemp.

  “Have you located the receptor for Drantil yet, Lieutenant Conway?”