Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2)

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Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2) Page 22

by Anthony James


  “No, sir.”

  “I’ve got a plan and it requires us speaking to someone with authority on Invarol.”

  “I’m doing my best.”

  The other ships in the Ragger fleet weren’t experiencing the same difficulty with the Drantil receptors. A transmit packet appeared on the comms screen and when Griffin opened it, he discovered that it was targeted at one of the comms satellites in stationary orbit directly above the base.

  “The Raggers have made contact,” said Griffin.

  “What do they say?” asked Conway.

  “I can’t read the contents of the message, but what do you think it says?”

  “Surrender or we’ll blow up a few of your cities.”

  “That’s probably a good summary.”

  Griffin remembered the events on New Destiny. The Raggers hadn’t shown much patience and had gone from a request to surrender into dropping incendiaries without giving the Unity League a real chance to respond. Brutality was either a deliberate tactic or the Raggers got a kick out of killing people. Griffin didn’t care which was true, since the end result was the same.

  “Lieutenant, we need to speak to Drantil,” said Griffin. He took a step towards the comms panel in order to take charge.

  Conway raised a hand. “Found them. Establishing a connection.”

  “I need a voice channel, Lieutenant. You can’t type fast enough.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  A moment later, the voice of Colonel Trent Hooper came through a row of speakers embedded in the circular console. He sounded angry, exactly like Colonel Doyle on the Durham base had sounded when the Raggers took out Satra.

  “Colonel Hooper, I’m Captain Griffin of the hijacked Ragger ship Prime015. We’ve got some talking to do.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Colonel Hooper was either a good listener or a fast learner. He sat quietly while Griffin gave him an outline of the situation and didn’t ask any stupid questions. It was reassuring to know that the man in charge of the Drantil base could handle a difficult situation.

  “How do you propose we deal with this?” asked Hooper, once Griffin was finished talking.

  “You said the Trojan carrier group is currently operating in three separate units, with the Vipers deployed.”

  “That’s correct – they were told to be ready for anything. It’s only been a couple of minutes since they learned about the Raggers coming here, and now they’re combining.”

  “Who’s in charge of the UL Trojan?”

  “That’s Admiral Kolb.”

  “Good. I know her.” It was a relief to hear that Kolb was heading up the carrier group. “We’re on the Ragger battle network, which means we have their positional data. It makes their stealth a lot less useful. We need to stream the data directly to the Trojan so that Admiral Kolb can disseminate it to the other ships in the fleet.”

  “What specific action do you propose, Captain?”

  “I’ve seen first-hand what the Raggers did on New Destiny. We can’t let them dictate. Whatever we do here – maybe even if we surrender immediately – they’re going to send us a message.”

  “I know about New Destiny,” said Hooper. “We can’t let it happen here.”

  “The solution is to attack. With everything we’ve got. That won’t win us the war, but it’ll buy high command some time to come up with a better way to deal with the Raggers.”

  Hooper didn’t require much convincing. “I’ll send the message to Admiral Kolb. Stream your battle network data into this same satellite and I’ll make sure it gets to the right place.”

  “Let me know the response, Colonel. It would also be good if the Trojan group didn’t fire their missiles at Prime015.”

  “How will they know which one you are?”

  “Tell them to watch out for something shaped like a disk that’s also the biggest damn spaceship they ever saw.”

  “I’ll make sure they hear it.”

  Conway wasn’t sure how to set up a data stream into the comms satellite, so Griffin did it for him. After Zargol’s work patching in the new units, the mothership had enough capacity for basic operations such as this one and the datalink was wide enough that it didn’t choke.

  “Whoever it is on LPrime03, they haven’t stopped asking questions, sir,” said Conway. “I don’t think I’ll be able to convince them for much longer.”

  “You won’t have to do it for much longer, Lieutenant. The Trojan carrier group will be here soon.”

  “Will this Trojan fleet attack immediately?” asked Zargol. “Your colonel didn’t commit to an answer.”

  “It wasn’t his place to commit. I know what Admiral Kolb’s like and she’ll attack soon as she gets that fleet into formation.”

  “I will watch out for their approach.”

  It was hard for Zargol, since he didn’t know where the fleet was stationed. Neither did Griffin for that matter, but he had a better idea what to expect. Kolb wouldn’t fly straight up from the surface in case any stray projectiles hit one of the population centers below. Instead, she’d attain the same height as the Ragger fleet and hit them from the side.

  “This battle network data means we’ll be able to take out the Raggers, doesn’t it?” asked Conway.

  “I hope so. Our Ultor-V missiles won’t lock – they’ll fire but it’ll be straight-line only. Same with the ballistics. Luckily a railgun slug travels fast enough to hit a moving target, as long as you aren’t too far away.”

  “It’s not going to be easy.”

  “No, and the Raggers might decide to do something stupid like carpet the planet with incendiaries if they think they’re about to lose.”

  “The comms is going crazy, sir,” said Conway. “One of the Ragger ships has detected an incoming fleet.”

  The battle network updated sluggishly and dots of red appeared to represent the approaching Trojan carrier group. Griffin counted eighteen Unity League warships in total – including ten Vipers - which made the carrier group under-strength. Even with equal numbers, it wasn’t going to be a fair fight. Prime015 had the chance to be the equalizer as long as Griffin played his hand well.

  “We’re ordered to attack, sir,” said Conway.

  “Acknowledge the order. We’re certainly going to attack.”

  For once, the Raggers didn’t land the opening blows. Railgun slugs punched into one of the alien spaceships on the edge of the fleet, putting it out of action before it could bring its own guns to bear. More direct hits followed and three lines of text appeared on the tactical.

  >ZT166 DEST

  >LSecondary45 DEST

  >HSecondary22 DEST

  “Three of the enemy fleet down already. The Raggers won’t fire missiles until they’re forced into it,” said Griffin. “It’s going to be railguns until then.”

  He watched the alien ships turn in the air to aim their own guns at the fast-approaching Unity League fleet. Admiral Kolb had used the battle network data well and chosen the best angle of attack. It bought her warships an extra few seconds for their railguns to recharge for a second volley while the Raggers were still hunting targets.

  The shape of Prime015 meant that it could fire in any direction without rotating, though Griffin made a few minor adjustments to give the appearance that he was targeting the main armaments at the Unity League ships. The Trojan fleet got a second volley of railgun shots away and one of them struck the mothership. Griffin swore and ordered Conway to repeat the message to Colonel Hooper.

  While Conway struggled with the kit, Griffin watched the tactical. The attack had clearly surprised the Raggers and most of them weren’t even accelerating in order to start evasive maneuvers.

  “They’re so accustomed to being in charge that they don’t know how to react,” he said. “And they haven’t yet realized that our fleet can detect them through the stealth modules.”

  Another couple of Ragger ships were torn apart by railgun fire. The aliens were getting their act together and a
few of them banked or climbed. This was the moment Griffin was waiting for and he’d programmed in a routine to automate the mothership’s weapons systems. He took one hand away from the control bars, overrode the security lock to prevent discharge against friendly targets, and then issued the command for a full launch.

  With the element of surprise in its favor, the mothership’s attack was devastating. The thumping expulsion of its eighteen huge railguns reached the bridge and was joined by the note of thirty-two upper and lower turrets firing explosive shells into the enemy fleet. In addition, the Ragger shipyard had fitted Prime015 with a total of twenty-four missile clusters, each capable of firing ten missiles at a time.

  Griffin knew there would be fireworks when he activated the weapons launch sequence, but that didn’t prepare him for the obliteration he delivered to the Raggers. The sensor feeds lit up with explosions, seemingly from every direction.

  A chunk of burning alloy, probably weighing in excess of a million tons, spun past the mothership so close it almost touched. Other smaller pieces of wreckage struck the outer plating and impact alert lights appeared in groups on Griffin’s console.

  Zargol tried hard to keep the sensors focused on the action and all he could find was debris. Then, he locked on something – a huge Ragger ship that Griffin recognized.

  “LPrime03,” he said.

  The battleship had somehow avoided the mothership’s onslaught and Prime015’s weapons weren’t reloaded for another go. Flashes of light on the enemy ship’s hull told Griffin that it was firing at the mothership. He launched the missile interceptors, sure the range was too short for them to be effective. The sound of distant thunder told him that Prime015 had been struck many times.

  “Reload!” he urged the hardware, watching for the green light on his launch routine.

  The light went green and then the Ragger battleship vanished from sensor sight. Griffin punched the console and checked the battle network data. Every single ship – Ragger and Unity League – was gone from the tactical.

  It was shitty timing, but Griffin wasn’t done. The Ragger battleship wasn’t travelling fast when it vanished and he remembered its heading. He fired two of the railguns and sent missiles in a straight line towards what he hoped was the enemy position. The countermeasures reloaded and he launched as many as were available.

  Another wave of missiles struck Prime015 and then another, with LPrime03 still not visible on the tactical or sensors. The Raggers didn’t seem too impeded at facing another ship with stealth modules and Griffin couldn’t think how to level the playing field.

  The railguns reloaded and he fired them again. When the battleship didn’t appear, he grabbed the controls and increased speed in order to make Prime015 a harder target. The enemy had railguns too, and their projectiles crunched into the mothership.

  “What can I do, sir?” asked Conway.

  “Send a message via the comms satellite to Admiral Kolb. Remind her to lock the Shredder interceptors onto the enemy railgun coil powerup.”

  “Yes, sir, I will do that.”

  Kolb didn’t need reminding, Griffin was sure about that, and he hoped she’d help him out soon. The Ragger fleet had suffered catastrophic losses and he wondered how many spaceships they had left. Five or six, he guessed, including the battleship LPrime03.

  Another twenty missiles cascaded against the mothership. He banked hard and brought it around in a tight turn, causing the walls to flex and producing a snapping noise from somewhere beneath the floor. Here on the bridge, Griffin and the soldiers were cocooned from the damage being inflicted on the exterior, but he was certain the mothership was in real trouble.

  “Zargol, think you can use the sensors to detect a railgun coil?”

  “No.”

  Griffin had reached the point where he was unable to do anything other than keep the mothership in the combat arena, soaking enemy fire, while hoping the Trojan fleet would turn it around before Prime015 broke up. That wasn’t a scenario he was comfortable with, though he couldn’t see an alternative that didn’t involve running.

  Another railgun strike hit the mothership and Griffin punched the console again. “We’ve pissed someone off,” he said. “They’re targeting us instead of the carrier group.”

  “Look at this,” said Zargol.

  The Fangrin had managed to get a sensor lock on something useful. One of the screens on Griffin’s console lit up with a thousand speckles of tiny Shredder explosions with no visible target.

  “There!” he shouted. “Lock onto the residual heat!”

  Somehow Zargol managed it and somehow Griffin’s instinct shot with the railgun hit its target. He sent missiles the same way and the Ragger battleship responded with missile interceptors. Suddenly, it came into view and Griffin saw the signs of railgun strikes that hadn’t come from the mothership.

  The sensor screen lit up pure white as the battleship was engulfed by dozens of plasma explosions. Ten or more of its final volley hit Prime015 and Griffin lost count of the damage alerts on his console.

  With the main threat defeated, he didn’t want to risk Prime015 being completely destroyed. It was too important to the Unity League and the Fangrin. Griffin was also partial to the idea of keeping his own skin intact and he was sure Lieutenant Conway and the others felt the same.

  On the other hand, he didn’t want to hightail it either, since the people on Invarol were relying on the ULAF to keep them safe from alien incendiaries.

  “We’re in this to the end, right?” he asked.

  “I don’t like running, sir.”

  “The Fangrin do not run either,” snarled Zargol.

  Griffin’s determination to stick around was soon changed into something else. He spotted a timer on his console that he hadn’t noticed until now. His language module translated the symbols into numbers, which counted down steadily.

  Conway noticed his concern. “Sir?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Griffin. He accessed a series of menus and found what he was looking for. “Shit! We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “What?”

  Griffin went through numerous submenus, aware that nobody was flying the mothership. This was more important. He tried several ways to shut off the countdown and nothing worked.

  “We’ve received a destruct code,” he said. “It must have come from LPrime03 a moment before the Unity League fleet blew the crap out of it.”

  “Will it cancel?” asked Zargol.

  “I need command codes to do it and I don’t have any.”

  “What now?”

  Griffin didn’t know. He caught sight of Invarol, not much more than two thousand klicks away. Suddenly, that didn’t sound very far at all.

  “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said.

  The engagement at Invarol was in the dying phases and Griffin was sure the Unity League had come out on top. He’d played his part and now was the time to get away before the mothership’s destruct timer hit zero.

  “Maybe we’ll get a chance to rest before we die,” he said, not believing it for a minute.

  The mothership accelerated hard away from Invarol, while the people left onboard wondered how many seconds of their lives remained.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Invarol’s moon was half a million klicks from the planet itself and no more interesting than any other grey, pitted sphere. Griffin piloted the spaceship on a course that would take it past the moon and way out into deep space.

  In the first few seconds of their escape from the battle, Zargol got a sensor feed of the mothership’s exterior and much of it appeared to be either burning or glowing from heat. The armor was unevenly melted and sections of it had fallen away.

  “What happens when the timer ends, sir?” asked Conway.

  “I can’t give you a precise answer, Lieutenant. It seems like a good idea to be as far away from Invarol as possible when it happens.”

  “I won’t argue that.”

 
“Are we just going to stand around here until this thing goes boom?” asked Kemp.

  “That’s not the plan,” said Griffin.

  “How long, sir?” Conway leaned across so that he could see the timer. It wasn’t counting down in familiar units and he got the impression that there was a variable element to its progress. Just the thought of something so stupid made him angry.

  “Looks like a few minutes,” said Griffin.

  “What is the plan?” asked Barron.

  “I’m going to lock Prime015 onto this course,” said Griffin. “Once that’s set, we’re going to drop most of our grenades on the control panel to put it out of action. Then, we’re going to run for it.”

  “Run where, sir?” asked Kemp.

  “Out the way we came in,” grunted Conway in realization.

  “That’s right, Lieutenant. Then we drift until pickup arrives.”

  Floating through space in a combat suit was one of Conway’s fears, but he wasn’t about to let on. “Give the word, sir.”

  Griffin pushed a few buttons and declared he was done. Conway made a count of the squad’s remaining grenades – they carried a total of nine and he ordered them to keep two of those in case they ran into any Raggers on the way out.

  “Open the bridge door,” he said.

  Mavingkar struck the panel with the flat of his hand and the door opened. With a glance into the corridor outside, Conway activated the first grenade and threw it underarm onto the central console. Lockhart, Barron and Kemp did likewise. A moment later, all seven grenades were either on top of the console or on the floor around it.

  “Let’s move!” said Conway.

  They raced along the corridor away from the bridge and the muffled thump of the grenades followed them. At a time like this, caution was a luxury product nobody could afford. Conway hurdled bodies and ran through the vomit and excrement which seemed to be everywhere – more so than he remembered from the way in.

  Conway was reluctant to visit the meat room for a second time, but it was part of the route in his head and he didn’t want to get lost by trying another way. He reached the meat room door, threw it open and ran inside. Again, the reality was harsher than the memory and he forced his mind to ignore the details and to think of the good times, rather than the carnage of an alien war.

 

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