Twilight of the clans III: the hunters

by Thomas S. Gressman

  "In every case, the OPFOR has either dug in and held their ground rather than meeting the attackers head-on, or they've forced the 'blue team' to maneuver until the attackers were spread out and unable to support each other.

  "Either way, what OPFOR has been doing is 'un-Clanlike.' "

  The commanders sat quietly for a long while, digesting the Knight commander's observations. After a time, Morgan spoke.

  "So, Colonel Masters, how do you propose we overcome this problem?"

  "Let's try putting together another exercise for tomorrow. My Knights will take the part of the Clan warriors." He consulted a comp pad. "The Seventy-first Light Horse hasn't been engaged yet. Let's give them a crack at playing the aggressors.

  "My staff and I will try to come up with a model suggesting how the Clanners would respond to being on the defense for a change."

  9

  Nadir Jump Point

  Defiance, Crucis March

  Federated Commonwealth

  18 February 3059

  0955 Hours

  The Achilles Class DropShip Bisan shuddered as 160 tons of aerospace fighter blasted free of its needle-shaped hull. The sleek Bisan was an assault ship, a kind of cross between a 'Mech-carrying DropShip and a heavy fighter. Most vessels of this type were smaller, faster, and more maneuverable than the clumsy 'Mech transport vessels. Like every other DropShip, however, assault ships were dependent upon JumpShips to move them from system to system. Only recently had a long-forgotten technology necessary for the construction of WarShips, combat vessels capable of jumping between the stars, been rediscovered.

  Michael Ryan was observing the action on a monitor set into the forward wall of the ship's troop bay, situated one deck below, and just aft of the Bisan's bridge deck. From his ready position in the NL-42 battle taxi, he watched the delta-hulled SL-15R Slayer fighters, each massing 80 metric tons, pull around in matching tight arcs, to fall into the standard "scissors" formation. The fighters' drives flared white as they sped away from the Bisan's position at the jump point. Somewhere up ahead, under two hundred kilometers away, the Alkmarr, an Invader Class JumpShip, lay in geosynchronous orbit around Resistance, the third of the Defiance system's eight planets.

  At this range, it was impossible to make out the Alkmarr against the star-dusted blackness. The Bisan's computer painted a small red diamond on the monitor screen. The icon was labeled TDI-1741, for Transport, DropShip, Interstellar. Had she been a WarShip, the Bisan's Identify Friend and Foe systems would have rendered her icon as a red wedge. DropShips were portrayed as elongated "U" shapes and fighters as tiny daggers.

  At first, Ryan found the whole system confusing. But, as he came to work more closely with the Bisan's captain, he rapidly assimilated the information. Now, he could tell at a glance that their fighter escorts, codenamed Arrow One and Two, were already more than halfway to the target. No DropShips had been detached from the Alkmarr, and there were no more vessels operating in their sector.

  In an exercise jointly designed by Marshal Hasek-Davion and Precentor Alain Beresick, the Com Guard ship captain assigned to lead the task force's naval assets, Ryan's DEST commandos were ordered to capture the JumpShip intact, or at least as intact as possible. Ryan's plan called for the Slayers to make a couple of high-speed attack runs past the Alkmarr, crippling her drives. While the defenders were busy with the fighters, the Bisan would lay alongside and launch a pair of NL-42 battle taxis. Each of these small craft carried a specially trained and equipped boarding party whose job it was to assault and capture the JumpShip. To increase the chances of approaching undetected and docking with a larger ship, the DEST team's taxis had been given a coat of dead, nonreflective black radar-absorbent paint. Boarding and seizing a starship was just the kind of small, specialized operation that a DEST team of commandos were especially trained to pull off.

  Ryan looked around the compartment at the men and women under his command. Instead of just his regular team of ten packed in here, he now commanded a full DEST detachment of thirty other highly trained commandos. When the support personnel attached to the unit (including the Bisan's crew) were figured in, Ryan's total command came to sixty-five.

  His superiors had considered that it would be improper for a mere Tai-i to command such a large number of highly trained personnel, so they had promoted him to the rank of Sho-sa. Ryan had protested the increase in rank, fearing that the promotion would interfere with the tight-knit community of his own team, while seeming to be an intrusion upon the integrity of the other teams under his command. Combine cultural mores dictated that there should be distance between the commanding officers and the men. To a degree, the DEST teams avoided this mandate, operating instead on a level similar to that of a well-adjusted family. A promotion, and the increased authority that came with it, might disrupt the closeness that was so important to the proper functioning of the special forces squads. Ryan tried to argue that he was unworthy of such an honor, and that he felt his place was with his team. Sho-sho Hideki Ishmaru silenced his protests by pointing out that the order came straight from the Coordinator.

  With a sense of pride, Ryan shrugged and rolled his shoulders, feeling as though he could actually perceive the weight of the apple-green katakana ichi painted on the shoulders of his Kage suit. He was relieved to see that his promotion hadn't come between him and his men, as he had feared. Instead, the increase in rank had become an additional source of pride for Team Six. They seemed to feel that an extra measure of honor and respect was due them, since the commander of the overall DEST detachment had been picked from their Team.

  Each of the ten troopers crowded into the cramped troop bay of the NL-42 battle taxi were identically clad in the black power armor recently developed by the Imperial Institute of Technology. Similar to the light scout armor fielded by the Gray Death Legion, the Kage suits had been created with the assistance of the Draconis Elite Strike Teams. The suits were made up of a compact exo-skeleton covered with kevlex and articulated ballistite plates. The whole thing was capable of being sealed against a hostile environment, and fitted with so many sensors that the helmet alone required its own manual. The outer surface was treated with the same mimetic camouflage as the standard DEST infiltration suits. Ordinarily, a powerful jump unit completed the kit. For this operation, the jump pack had been replaced with a specially modified manned maneuvering unit.

  "Arrow, is commending their attack, sir." The Bisan's captain spoke in a calm professional tone, which startled Ryan. "Expect Yari to be on station in three minutes."

  "Very well." Ryan acknowledged the pilot's report via the suit's built-in comm system. Yari was the code name for a Leopard Class DropShip assigned to transport DEST Team Four to the Alkmarr's after section. Team Four had been assigned the task of capturing the JumpShip's engine and drive rooms. Ryan glanced at the chronometer bolted to the bulkhead above the monitor. It read 0957. Their mission orders called for rendezvous with the target vessel at 1000 hours. They were right on schedule. Switching channels, he informed the rest of his team, "Three minutes."

  "Three minutes." The words crackled in Ryan's radio headset as each battle-armored trooper repeated and acknowledged the warning.

  "Remember, people, fast and hard," he cautioned. "No playing around. A bad guy sticks his head out, you blow it off. We aren't looking for prisoners on this trip. Got it?"

  A series of "Hais " and "Yes, sirs" confirmed that Team Six understood their mission.

  The Bisan rocked slightly, taking simulated damaged from the Alkmarr's PPCs.

  Twisting slightly in his seat for a better view of the monitors, Ryan watched one of the Slayers, still discernible only by its IFF icon, swoop in on the Alkmarr. He knew that the pilots were some of the Com Guard's best, but he still harbored a distrust of the warriors of the once-secretive organization.

  The seconds ticked by slowly, punctuated only by the computer-generated shudders marking a hit by one of the Alkmarr's weapons. A brief message from the Bison's pilot sound
ed in his ears. He passed it on to his men.

  "Thirty seconds."

  Before the warning could be relayed to the last DEST trooper, Ryan was punched back in his seat as Chu-i Yacob Grimm ignited the NL-42's engines.

  The battle taxis shot free of the Bisan's hull and streaked across the narrowing gap between the assault ship and the Alkmarr. The monitors went momentarily blank as the Bisan's feed was lost. It was replaced by an image captured by the taxi's own cameras.

  For the first time, Ryan realized how huge an Invader Class JumpShip was. Longer overall than the height of many tall buildings, she massed an incredible 152,000 tons. Yet, for all her fantastic bulk, the Alkmarr was still smaller than any but the lightest WarShips.

  "And they expect us to be able to capture that?" The incredulous thought flashed through his mind.

  "Grapple. Hard lock in ten seconds. Get ready, Sho-sa." The pilot's call jarred Ryan out of his stunned reverie.

  The taxi, which, until moments before, had been floating gently in space, slammed hard onto the Alkmarr's hull.

  "Lock!" Grimm's voice screeched in Ryan's ear. "Go!"

  Before Ryan could begin to repeat the command, Private Wu had wrenched the taxi's aft hatch open and leap onto the JumpShip's outer hull. A silent flicker of light told him that his advance man had just "blown" one of the target vessel's pressure hatches using a simulated explosive.

  If the Alkmarr's defenders had missed the team's approach, they certainly knew they were aboard now.

  "Go! Go! Go!" Ryan shouted across his teams' tactical frequency. A quick tap on the suit's wrist-mounted control unit switched channels. "Ronin One commencing operation."

  "Roger, Ronin One," came the acknowledgment. "Be advised, Ronin Two is now aboard." The Com Guard officer in charge of the exercise seemed to be almost bored with the operation.

  "One acknowledges." Ryan propelled himself through the taxi's open hatch.

  The marine pilot had brought them down five meters from the Alkmarr's forward maintenance hatch. Using his suit's maneuvering unit, the commando shot across the intervening space and through the opening. Just inside the ship's "ruined" pressure hatch floated the "corpse" of one of her defenders. A small red light was flashing from the crown of his helmet. As Private Wu had lunged through the open hatch, this AFFC marine had appeared to oppose the boarders. Wu, using the low-wattage laser clipped to his suit's right vambrace instead of the normal Blazer rifle, fired a single shot. The marine was "killed" by the burst of coherent light. His suit's Laser Engagement Simulation Equipment interrupted power to the man's weapon and set off the strobe. Had Ryan not been wearing his helmet, he would have also heard a high-pitched beeping that declared the enemy to be dead.

  "Move out." In response to their leader's snapped order, the DEST troopers jetted away.

  Following the deck plans loaded into their suits' onboard computers, the team headed for the Alkmarr's bridge. Further aft, Ronin Two was using an identical method to lead them to the vessel's engineering spaces.

  "Contact!" Wu shouted, his message breaking off in mid-sentence.

  "Sho-sa," Talon Sergeant Raiko called. "We have enemy contact. Wu is down."

  Without needing an officer to lead them, the commandos of DEST Team Six swung into action. Corporal Hollis armed and threw a stun grenade. The resultant explosion lit up the JumpShip's corridor. Before the enemy could recover, the commandos stormed forward. A hail of laser "bullets" crisscrossed the enclosed space. Several of the marines "died" without firing a shot in return.

  A flash of movement caught Ryan's attention. Quickly he spun, bringing up his right forearm. As the weapon mounted in his vambrace came to bear, the sighting cross hairs superimposed on his visor settled over the torso of a defending marine. Ryan pressed the trigger. Nothing happened. A low insistent tone sounded in his ears. Sho-sa Michael Ryan had been "killed in action."

  * * *

  The feeling of gravity was disorienting, as Ryan swung through the access port into the Alkmarr"s grav deck. Already present in the compartment were the ComStar JumpShip's captain and a stocky man with pale blonde hair wearing the insignia of an AFFC Colonel.

  "Have a seat, Sho-sa." The captain gestured to an empty chair. He seemed to be in charge of the meeting. "I'd like your assessment of today's operation."

  As he took his seat, Ryan quickly noted that the captain wore a small gold pi pinned to the collar of his uniform that declared him to be an aerospace pilot. A pair of golden wings displayed on his left breast told Ryan that the officer was considered by ComStar to be a hero.

  His impression of the FedCom Colonel was far less admiring. The man wore the red disk of the Robinson Medal of Valor. At one time, he had apparently been decorated for his actions against the Draconis Combine, most likely in the War of 3039.

  That so-called war was actually little more than a bloody border skirmish. Hanse Davion had launched a series of attacks on worlds belonging to the Draconis Combine in an attempt to crush his lifelong foe and to recapture planets lost during the Fourth Succession War. Though the offensive met with some initial success, a counter-thrust led by Theodore Kurita blunted the attacks. The war was over in six months, with only a few worlds changing hands. Ryan felt a flush of pride as he recalled an assault by DEST commandos on the Lyran command post on Vega. The attack had stalled the Lyran phase of the operation and left Field Marshal Nondi Steiner seriously wounded.

  Though a faint ripple of disgust rose along his spine as he regarded the Davion officer, but he pushed it aside. With difficulty, he forced himself to sit at the table with the man, unfolding his comp pad on the surface before him.

  "The mission was a success, as far as it went," Ryan ran a hand through his hair, wishing he'd had a chance to clean up before the meeting. The Kage suits were state of the art, but they always left him feeling sweaty.

  "Please continue, Sho-sa."

  "It took six minutes to launch the battle taxis, grapple them to the Alkmarr, and blow the hatches. My team secured the bridge nine minutes after effecting entry." There was a note of pride in that last sentence. "Team Five took eleven to capture engineering. We took over sixty percent casualties, including Tai-i Asihiro and myself. I checked the computer logs." Ryan glanced at the comp pad. "The Bisan took four hits to her armor from the Alkmarr"s point-defense weapons. She was in no real danger of being breached, but damage was inflicted. One of the Slayers was damaged, as was Team Five's battle taxi.

  "We committed twenty of our forty DEST troopers to the capture of a single transport. We got the ship, but lost twelve men in the process. If we use these tactics against a WarShip, we'll lose the whole team."

  "And, do you have any suggestions, Sho-sa?" The Alkmarr's captain smiled slightly, giving Ryan, the impression that he'd come to the same conclusions himself.

  "Nothing solid yet," Ryan confessed. "I would like to see some way of delivering a larger boarding party in a shorter amount of time. Six minutes would be more than enough time for a WarShip to blast the Bisan and the NL-42s straight to hell. I'd increase the fighter cover assigned to escort the assault DropShips to at least five pairs. And, I'd recommend not even trying to board a WarShip unless there was no other choice."

  "Is that all?" The FedCom Colonel spoke for the first time.

  "Yes, Colonel," Ryan closed his comp pad with a snap. "For now."

  "All right Sho-Sa." The AFFC officer leaned his forearms on the table. "I'll let you in on a few 'trade secrets.'

  "This isn't the first boarding exercise against a Clan JumpShip we've run. The AFFC has been staging mock boarding parties for six months now, always with the same result. We can capture any kind of transport intact, but we take unacceptable casualties in the process. If we try taking on a WarShip, we get our heads handed to us.

  "Like you, we decided that we need larger, more powerful vessels to transport the assault teams. The problem with ships like the Hannibal Class is their lack of small-craft bays and/or grappling equipment. If we use a la
rger ship, they have to lay alongside the target vessel while the marines cross using manned maneuvering units. All that time, the enemy is beefing up his defenses, firing on the assault ship and boarding party, and generally making life miserable.

  "Our shipyards at New Syrtis and at Atreus are working at adapting the 'Mech bays on some of the larger assault ships to serve as taxi launch bays. If we can lick a few structural problems, we should be able to field a couple of the refitted ships with our task force.

  "I wouldn't worry too much, though." The FedCom Colonel smiled as he dismissed Ryan. "None of us on the planning staff anticipate having to board any Clan WarShips."

  Ryan turned to leave, but couldn't help muttering something in Japanese.

  "What did he say?" he heard the FedCom officer ask.

  The Alkmarr's captain chuckled. "It's an old proverb, Colonel. Loosely translated, it means, 'famous last words.' "

  Ryan swung out of the access port.

  * * *

  "Baka!" Ryan cursed the FedCom officer for a fool as he stormed through the hatchway leading to the Alkmarr's passenger deck.

  "Something wrong?" Ralph Carter, predictably, was the first to notice Ryan's arrival. The man's sixth sense made him a natural choice to serve as a spotter/observer for Lo Sior, the team's sniper.

  "Cursed Davion officers." Ryan's contemptous snort conveyed more to the assembled troopers than an hour-long discourse. "He actually had the nerve to critique our performance on the exercise."