“What the hell?” Ezo shouted, which produced a round of laughter from those who’d been watching.
“Get back to work,” the loadmaster ordered. “And you, get that bot down to the brig.”
“Yes, sir,” Ezo said over speakers. “Right away.” Then to TO-96, he said, “Come on, you worthless piece of splick.” They moved out of sight, taking a short detour around a crane aisle, before heading back to Geronimo. “What was the foot thing for?”
“You tackled me hard.”
Ezo scrunched up his face. “But you don’t feel pain, you idiot.”
“Maybe not in my body, but I do in my heart.”
“Shut up,” Ezo said, and then shoved the captured bot forward.
* * *
By the time Ezo and TO-96 ascended into Geronimo, careful to stay out of sight, Cyril stood at the ramp’s top.
“And?” Ezo asked as he released TO-96.
“Sliced like the Galactic news networks during election season. The Labyrinth’s sensors will think that our shuttles are standard troop transports coming back from Oorajee.”
Ezo slapped Cyril’s back and then slammed the ramp’s closure button. “Good job. What about Piper?”
Cyril looked away.
“Couldn’t locate her?”
“I’m sorry, sir. Maybe with a little more time—”
“We don’t have any more of that. Magnus will have to improvise.” Ezo looked toward the bridge. “’Six? Get us outta here.”
“Right away, sir.”
Ezo tossed his helmet and told Cyril to secure himself. “This exit might get a little bumpy.”
Geronimo’s drive core hummed, followed by the sound of engines cycling up. Ezo stepped into the bridge and started flicking switches before he even sat down. The manual release overrides disconnected the various tubes and lines connected to the ship’s belly. They popped off in sprays of white gas and electrical arcs, nozzle heads slamming into the deck. The action brought up several system warnings that TO-96 dismissed with the flick of his hand.
“This is Bay Twenty-Three Control to Geronimo Nine,” said an official-sounding voice over Repub comms. “We are showing indications of an unsanctioned launch procedure. Please power down and prepare for—”
“We’re showing signs of a containment breach, control,” Ezo interrupted, raising his voice’s pitch. He looked at TO-96 and waved both hands in a frantic motion.
“That’s a negative, Geronimo. All sensors indicate—wait, hold on.”
TO-96’s fingers danced across the console in a blur. Suddenly, alarm klaxons began to sound in the cockpit, accompanied by warning indicators.
“Geronimo, you’re showing signs of a containment breach!”
“No kidding,” Ezo said. “That’s why we’re trying to get clear.”
“Geronimo, get clear of the hangar!”
“Where do they find these guys?” Ezo asked his bot.
TO-96 applied the anti-gravity thrusters and pushed the ship from its birth. Any maintenance equipment not secured to the deck flew away, blasted by Geronimo’s thrusters.
“Get clear, now,” the control officer cried.
“Nothing like being asked to leave,” Ezo said to TO-96.
“It does indeed beat being shot at, sir.”
Geronimo slipped through the force field, and TO-96 disengaged the repulsors. Then he applied full power to the engines, and the ship lurched forward. Ezo sank in his seat and yelled at TO-96. “You got their away gift ready?”
“I thought you’d never ask, sir.” Again, TO-96’s hands worked the controls, and Ezo noticed a load lock release indicator illuminate. A holo feed looking over Geronimo’s stern popped up and showed a small core canister shoot back toward the Labyrinth. Ezo watched the canister’s blinking light as it disappeared against the Super Dreadnought’s backdrop.
“Violent combustion in the subterranean recess,” TO-96 said. Ezo was about to correct the bot’s delivery when a brilliant white explosion washed out the rear-facing camera and shoved Geronimo forward. At nearly the same time, TO-96 jumped into subspace. The maneuver was risky, being so close to Oorajee’s gravity well, but it was worth making the Labyrinth believe that Geronimo had been decimated in a violent drive-core meltdown. Instead, TO-96 dropped out of subspace on the planet’s opposite side, meeting up with the Spire.
After being slammed back and forth in his chair half a dozen times in less than sixty seconds, Ezo finally looked at TO-96 and said, “Think they bought it?”
“Stand by, sir. I am monitoring fleet-wide comms traffic now.” Ezo watched the bot scroll through data reports faster than any human could. He also heard the indistinguishable noise of several comms channels overlapping one another. “Yes, I believe they have deemed the unfortunate fate of our vessel a catastrophic accident. Several ships in the vicinity are reporting a drive core breach, and the Labyrinth is reporting a total loss of signal. With any luck, Geronimo Nine’s name will be permanently removed from the Galactic Republic registry within the hour. Hold on.” TO-96 paused and held up a finger. “Correction, the Labyrinth has just removed Geronimo Nine’s entry from the starship registry.”
“That fast?” Ezo whistled. “Don’t let the door slam you on the way out.”
“Sir?”
“Never mind. Let’s get back to the Spire. We have a lot of work to do.” The mission had hardly begun, and already Ezo was thinking of all the things he could do with a ship no longer on the Repub’s radar.
22
“How we looking, Cyril?” Magnus asked over the newly named VNET, a term made by singling out the V from the word Novia and the suffix of the well-established Marine TACNET. He stood over the shuttle pilot’s shoulder and watched as the Black Labyrinth’s hulking mass expanded in the cockpit window.
“Your shuttle still looks friendly, like a friend to the Paragon, that is,” Cyril replied from onboard the Spire. “So far, so good. So far, sir.”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Magnus tapped the top of his NOV1 as it rested across his chest. He knew that the approach was the most critical part of any boarding mission. Any fluke in instrument readings, any overly curious observer, and this was all over. A Super Dreadnought’s deck guns at point-blank range would make quick work of their troop transports even with Novian shielding technology.
A glance at the sensor display showed the two other transports stacked right behind Magnus’s. While his shuttle held Granther and Paladia Companies, the second contained Taursar, and the last contained Hedgebore. That was 355 gladia in total, and all hurtling toward the most powerful ship in the Repub navy. The only thing protecting the Gladio Umbra from a fate in the hard vacuum of space was whatever fancy code slicing Cyril had put in place. “Let’s just hope it’s enough,” Magnus whispered.
“Come again, Lieutenant?” the pilot asked.
“Nothing. Steady as she goes.”
“Yes, sir. Two minutes to dock.”
Magnus turned around and signaled the two-minute warning to Abimbola, who then sent word into the bay to do a pre-combat check. The shuttles slipped into the Labyrinth’s shadow, blocked from the system’s star. Only Oorajee’s surface gave any light to illuminate the target. This was it—there was no going back now. Whatever happened next was on Magnus and the other company leaders.
The plan was ballsy. Dropping 350 gladia in a Repub starship crewed by 500 officers and 4,000 enlisted sailors weren’t great odds. But the Gladio Umbra had several things going for them, the greatest of which was the element of surprise. There was no way any fleet’s command ship would suspect a surprise boarding party could slip right under their noses. But thanks to Ezo, TO-96, and Cyril, that was precisely what was happening.
The second thing Magnus knew they had going for them was fire superiority. Even if the Labyrinth’s officers could muster sufficient troop resistance quickly enough to respond to the breach, the Novian armor and weaponry were second to none—especially now that every gladia
had been outfitted with the NBTI. Magnus almost felt bad for the hell the sailors were about to face.
Third, the Gladio Umbra had both tactical and operational advantages.
Tactically, this was not warfare on an open field—a scenario where fights were won by position and attrition. This was close quarters combat through tight corridors. As long as Azelon and Cyril could maintain control of the bulkhead blast doors and help direct personnel movement on both sides, Magnus knew speed and violence of force would win the day.
And mission-wise, the Gladio Umbra had a highly specific agenda, one unknown to the enemy—at least most of them, he knew. Moldark would understand why they’d come. But the rest of the crew wouldn’t have a clue. Which meant they wouldn’t know which direction the invasion was headed or which areas of the ship to reinforce.
Slip in, push hard and fast, secure the objective, and then get the hell out. And if anyone had a bead on Moldark? For splick’s sake, take the damn shot.
“Sixty seconds,” the pilot said.
Magnus raised one finger at Abimbola, and again the call went back, fingers raised. Magnus felt his skin prickle as the force field for their target bay loomed ahead. It glowed blue against the Labyrinth’s black hull, illuminating an empty hold. Cyril’s intel platoon had ensured that no other ships were in this particular hangar. How, Magnus had no idea. But he was grateful for the brains that got it done.
All three transports slipped through the force fields and into the Labyrinth’s gravity well, activating anti-grav repulsors. Ramps extended before landing gear touched down, and the moment the shuttles made deck contact, loadmasters were pushing gladia out as fast as their hands could signal. All was set—everything, that was, except the one piece of intel they still needed the most: a location on Piper.
* * *
“I want that perimeter set yesterday,” Forbes yelled over VNET. “Move, move, move!”
Taursar’s first, second, and third platoons raced to each of the three hangar entrance doors and went to work. They erected MB17 portable shield walls on either side of the oversized blast doors, followed by tripod-mounted AT3M auto turrets. As a last resort, they affixed VODs to the door frames, set as directional mines with motion detection in the event of fast evac cover.
Lieutenant Nelson directed Herdgebore Company in their efforts to set up a near field perimeter around the shuttles. This defensive ring would cover the gladia evac and keep the ships from taking too much direct fire. The platoons set up Azelon’s new GU90 cannons in nests within each shuttle’s shadow, covering 180-degree sweeps. The cannons would make quick work of any enemy forces attempting to set up on the shuttles.
“I need a direction, Cyril,” Magnus said over VNET.
“Still nothing, sir,” Cyril replied, his face occupying a small square in the lower left of Magnus’s HUD. “I’m thinking I should send you toward the bridge—the admiral’s quarters are near the bridge, but you already have that. I mean, you probably already know that. About the bridge and his quarters.”
They were wasting time. “And that’s still just a guess, right?”
“Yep, yep, yep. I just don’t have any good data for you. Sorry, sir.”
“Neither do I,” Azelon added. Her face appeared beside Cyril’s. “But we’ve still managed to keep your presence a secret. In the meantime, I suggest you utilize the mystics.”
“On it.” Magnus swiped his eyes left to close the open links. “Awen?”
“Here,” she replied, stepping out from Alpha Team. Her face appeared in the lower-left of his HUD while a vector arrow pointed toward an outlined body in his central FOV.
“I need a location.”
“I’ve been trying. So has Willowood.”
“And?”
“Piper still doesn’t want to be found,” Willowood said, stepping away from Paladia Company. “But I am getting something from the ship’s stern.”
“As am I,” Awen said.
Magnus looked between them. “Drive core interference?”
“I don’t think so,” Awen said.
“Care to expound?”
“Drive cores emit a very distinct vibration in the Unity,” Awen said. “Think of it like the color pink. Well, Piper’s presence is more like magenta—enough to be in the pink family, but not enough to be mistaken for pink.”
“But you’re still not sure.”
“Right. It’s more like we’re seeing pink with hints of red.”
“And you haven’t seen magenta on any other part of the ship?”
Awen sighed and gave a quick shake of her head. “No.”
“But you’re still sure she’s here.”
“We wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t, Magnus. I feel her.”
Well, at least that’s good news, Magnus thought. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’re going with your gut and some traces of magenta in the aft. Can you mark it for us, like I showed you?”
“Yes. Stand by.”
Magnus waited a second before a destination marker appeared on the ship’s schematic in the upper-right of his HUD. The location was on a lower deck, well below the engine cones, and looked to be a cargo hold that doubled as observation hall. Strange, but not implausible. Such spaces made good prisoner enclosures, among other things.
“Willowood,” Magnus said. “I need you specifically, and one of your cadres, to come with Granther Company. The rest need to be with Taursar and Hedgebore Companies to defend the shuttles. When we find Piper, she needs to see your face.”
“Agreed,” Willwood said. “Let me get everyone set.”
Magnus thanked Awen and Willowood and then brought Cyril back up. Having the code slicer and Azelon in hand allowed for easy reachback—the term used when units downrange needed to access critical mission information further up the COC. “I need a route to this target, Cyril. And calculate contingencies while you’re at it. I don’t want us getting trapped back there.”
“That’s a roger, sir. On your twenty, ASAP.” There was a brief pause before a series of blue dots illuminated across the schematic. “Done, done, done. You should see waypoints now.”
“Affirmative.” Magnus glanced at the path. “You’re certain this is the shortest route?”
“Certain? This is pretty much the same thing as playing Galaxy Renegade. You know, the holo strategy game? Did you know that I am ranked in the top three in—”
“Cyril!”
“Oh. So sorry, sir. Sorry. I am certain that if you follow our route, you have the best chance at winning. Ah—I mean, surviving.”
“Sounds good.”
“Oh, um—and one more thing, sir.”
“Talk fast.”
“We may not be able to maintain control of all bulkhead doors and security systems. I mean, I suspect it’s only a matter of time before localized countermeasures are instituted, which will most likely lock us out, which really sucks for you, especially as you get closer to this board’s boss. Camera piggybacking is limited, so you’ll be on your own once you leave the hangar unless I call something in for you. Copy my ten-four?”
“Understood. Just do what you can, and keep me updated.” Magnus swiped Cyril’s avatar away and then populated the rest of Granther Company’s HUDs with the updated waypoints. “First Platoon and First Cadre, fall in.”
The five fire teams and one mystic cadre circled up as Magnus stood in the center. “We have a tentative fix on the asset, currently located in an aft observation theatre on deck four, section ninety-one. We’re calling that south and low.” Magnus pointed a flat hand toward the ship’s nose. “Bow of the ship is north; sides are east and west.
“Intel has updated our waypoints with secondaries on standby. We’ll be going in on our own—Taursar and Hedgebore are staying put to ensure shuttle protection along with shield support from the bulk of Paladia. I want you sharp. Watch for blind cross corridors, and set up with caution on intersections. Work together and watch your fellow gladia’s backs. Questions?”
> Heads shook.
“Dominate.”
“Liberate,” the platoon replied.
Magnus turned toward the western-most door that led into the ship’s interior. Forbes’ second platoon was set up on the door, ready to fire on anything that moved once the blast doors parted. Magnus waved a hand at Forbes, who acknowledged him with a nod.
“You ready, LT?” Forbes asked.
“We’re green.”
Colonel Caldwell’s avatar popped up on a battalion-wide transmission. He’d been monitoring everything without interruption, letting his leaders work free of micromanagement. But as Magnus neared the threshold into the ship, the colonel made an appearance. “This is Colonel Caldwell. All units report in.”
Magnus and everyone else with a HUD watched as the company commanders lit up the chat window with green icons. He waited to add his until last.
“You good to go, Magnus?”
“Ready, Colonel.” Magnus flicked his eyes to activate his ready icon. “Just wanted to keep you on your toes.”
“I want time on target to be at a minimum,” Caldwell said. “Get in, get out, make it home. This is it, Gladio Umbra. One trigger, one shot, one grave. Stay vig.”
“Stay vig,” Magnus repeated to himself. It had been a while since he’d heard one of the Corps’ old mantras—short for stay vigilant.
“Granther Company, you call the play,” Caldwell said.
“Let’s cover up,” Magnus said. Gladias disappeared from Magnus’s HUD as all units activated chameleon mode. The only way to track everyone now was through the Novian Defense Architecture, or NDA, which integrated every gladia’s NBTI signature. Body silhouettes and vector indicators played at Magnus’s peripheral vision as he narrowed his eyes on the main door. He called up Forbes and Cyril simultaneously. “Let’s get a move on, boys. Time to crack the can.”
23
Ruins of the Galaxy Box Set: Books 1-6 Page 152