She screamed, “Landers, nooo!”
The radio was full of chatter from multiple sources demanding to know what was happening.
“Team one, report!”
“Hotrod, Breaker, what’s your situation?”
Getting no reply, Marjorie said, “Bowman, what do you see?”
“All clear here as far as I can tell, commander,” Lt. Black reported from the cockpit of his Wasp. “Hex?”
“I’m near the Beetle. I don’t see the pilots. They are not in their cockpit,” Lt. Ramos said.
Kent was only peripherally aware of their voices in her ears as she drew her weapon and fired at the hatch, fifteen quick shots echoing loudly against the confined walls of the small craft.
She pulled herself along the nearby wall, ducking under Landers’ body, making her way toward the opening. She loaded a new mag as she went, and kept firing down into the opening while making her way around to the hinge side of the hatch. She reloaded again and continued firing while taking incoming fire that couldn’t get an angle on her. Then, she lifted the hatch and used it as a shield while unloading another mag into the opening, and then slammed the hatch shut and sat on it. Then, remembering her training, she quickly engaged the one-way emergency lock so they couldn’t open it from the other side.
Lacy looked up at Brick’s body. “Goddammit, Hotrod!” and fought back tears as the adrenaline continued to flood her veins. She sat still for a while, trying to calm herself in order to think clearly. What do I do now?
“Lexington, we have to send a rescue team!” Cmdr. Pierce said on the priority channel reserved for command. “Some of my men might still be on board that ship, maybe holed up or taken prisoner. Recommend we redirect team two to infiltrate—”
“Buck, I sympathize,” Captain Long said. “But, we’ve gotten no word from team one. If they were holed up somewhere on that ship, they would have communicated with us by now.”
“Dammit!” Cmdr. Pierce yelled, breaking discipline. “Give them time to regroup and respond.”
“Rox, Lexington Actual, switch to the brass channel.”
“Affirmative, captain. I’m in.”
“Quick conference, people. And remember, we’re on comms. Rox, what’s your opinion of the situation?” Long said in a tired voice.
“Sir, I think we’re done with the derelict. It’s just a wreck, not worth another minute of our time. We should redirect team two to back up team one.”
“Buck?”
“I concur. My men are done here. The ship has been stripped. Team one is under duress.”
“Acknowledged,” Long said. He looked to his XO, who simply nodded.
“Very well. Go. But I do not want a hostage situation on my hands. Try to make contact with the hostile crew and our troops. If you cannot make contact with the mercs or if they refuse to cooperate, we may have to blow their ship. But, you have time, so plan it carefully.”
A cold chill ran down Marjorie’s back, giving her goosebumps. “Roger, captain.”
“Aye, sir,” Cmdr. Pierce said. Shifting gears, he thumbed the squad channel, “Team two, come in.”
“Team two here. Orders, sir?” MSgt. Connor said.
“Pull out. Return to the ship,” Cmdr. Pierce ordered.
“Roger that. Let’s go, people! We’re out of here!”
“Hotrod, Breaker, I repeat, what’s your situation?” Marjorie demanded, fearing the worst.
If they were okay, they would have responded. Unless . . . what if their radio got hit in a firefight?
“Lexington, Beetle One . . . Breaker here.”
Oh, thank God. Marjorie had almost vocalized the words. Instead, she breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Breaker, what’s your status?”
“Firefight, sir. I can only assume the troopers are all down because the hatch was breached. I’ve managed to get it locked down.”
No one on the channel said anything for a few long seconds. “Hotrod?” Marjorie asked gently.
“Dead, sir.”
Buck, who was listening in on the channel, stood up in the back of Beetle Two and punched the bulkhead in an uncharacteristic rage. Moments later the first two of his men entered the ship from the open rear hatch, returning from the derelict. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, then stood as if to welcome the troopers. Willard stood rigidly and saluted the commander.
“Goddammit, Willard, get your ass out of the way!” the master sergeant said as he hit the rear of the ship too hard and almost lost his grip, which put him in a pissed-off mood. He almost kicked Willard toward his chair but settled on just shoving him instead.
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“And stop apologizing! You’re a trooper. Act like one!”
PFC Deck Willard sat at the forward-most seat on the left and secured his rifle while glancing nervously at the commander next to him.
Cmdr. Pierce put his helmet against Willard’s, and said (with the radio off), “Son, you’re doing fine. He’s just doing his job so you’ll remember to do yours. Carry on.”
Marjorie said, “How about you, Breaker? Are you injured?”
“No, sir, I kept them at bay with my sidearm until I was able to secure the hatch. What are your orders, sir?”
“We’re sending backup to your twenty. Detach, make a safe distance and run a full diagnostic of ship’s systems. We will need you for pickup by the time this is over . . . .”
Rox was about to say it—to state the obvious but painful truth—that there were bodies to be returned to the Lex. Kent sensed it in her tone.
“Roger that,” Kent said. She gently secured Landers’ body in one of the seats and returned to the cockpit, locked the door, and buckled in. Looking over at Landers’ empty seat, she felt empty and numb inside.
* * * *
Nekel watched the three small craft—the transport and two fighter escorts—leave the vicinity of the derelict and head off to the right relative to her position. She programmed the navigation system to keep the Lit’l Liza in a position that made a straight line through the derelict to the Lexington, which would mask her RADAR signature.
The ship closed the distance quickly after a high-acceleration burn. When the derelict was only ten seconds away, the Lit’l Liza shifted slightly so she would miss the derelict while maintaining her high velocity.
The UNS Lexington was only a hundred and twenty miles away—only a few seconds at this velocity, which would be unusual this close to the Moon. Nekel looked at the console, at the jury-rigged controls configured by the pirate crew. The status indicator was green. Outside, mounted on the lower right side of the ship, was the SLAM launcher Drake’s crew had installed. The readout showed two remaining missiles.
As soon as the Liza flicked past the derelict, Nekel hit the rigged fire button on the console. She felt a slight jolt as the launcher spit out its first missile. Two seconds later, the SLAM launcher reported green. Nekel pressed the button again, then shifted the Liza left a few degrees and passed by the rear of the Lexington with room to spare. The Liza was moving so fast she was out of sight before the warship could respond to her presence. The entire encounter had lasted only eight seconds. A human could not have engaged the enemy at such velocities, she mused.
The first missile struck the Lexington amidships, hitting one of the launch bays. The second missile exploded nearer to the aft, sending a shudder through the ship and causing a momentary loss of power.
“Lexington, we’re in range of the hostile ship, preparing to dock,” Stone reported from Beetle Two.
An alert sounded at one of the bridge stations. A junior officer said, “Captain, we have a bogey coming toward us at starboard!”
The bridge shook slightly and a distant rumble could be heard and felt through the deck. The alert claxon sounded.
“Report!” the XO demanded.
“We’ve been fired upon!” the tactical officer announced. “It came in too fast to track!”
“What the hell? Was there no warning?”
Captain Long said, looking over the junior officer’s shoulders at the tactical display. A missile trace appeared so near the ship it was detected only a second before impact.
A second rumble was heard, causing the railings and consoles to shake violently for a few seconds and the lights to flicker. “Damage report!” Long demanded.
Chief Engineer Parsons said, “Bridge, this is Parsons. Are we taking fire?”
“Second impact!”
“Who’s firing at us, dammit!” Plaas said, lurking over the RADAR operator’s shoulder. The officer pointed to the scope and said, “There . . . and there . . . .”
“On screen,” the captain ordered.
The tactical display was sent to the left front screen while the RADAR display was sent to the right front screen.
Plaas stepped forward to stand next to the captain. “It came out of nowhere . . . from the derelict, it seems,” Plaas said.
“Hmm, no, not from the derelict, but from something behind it,” the captain said.
“And at that velocity, there was no time to react,” the XO said. “Look at that third track . . . .”
“I thought that was a third missile that missed us!” the tactical officer said.
“No, see the signature? Too large. That was our bogey, moving faster than I’ve ever seen a ship move this close to the—”
“I have the damage report, captain,” a junior officer interrupted.
“Let’s hear it, Owen.”
“Engineering reports damage to reactor four. And . . . sir! The starboard hangar bay. . . .”
“What? Was it hit?” the XO demanded.
“It’s been destroyed!” the stunned junior officer said in a heavy whisper.
Cmdr. Plaas ran from the bridge, sprinted down the main hall to the first junction, and hopped through bulkhead hatches, all the while yelling, “Make way! Coming through!”
He reached the upper platform leading into the hangar deck and gasped at the scene while trying to catch his breath. Damage control teams were just beginning to respond, getting the hoses in position to blow foam at the fires and breaches. The port launch bays were exposed to space and the rest of the hangar was strewn with debris.
“My . . . God!”
Chapter 19
Take Five
“Captain, engineering here! Reactor four is overheating. The coolant lines were damaged in the attack and we won’t have them repaired soon enough. We have to eject the reactor!”
“No choice,” the XO said, panting, as he re-emerged onto the bridge. “And it’s true, captain. The hangar bay was breached when that missile exploded.”
Long nodded. “Engineering, bridge. Do it! Eject the—”
“Aye, aye, sir! We’re proceeding to eject reactor four!”
Plaas went back to his forward station. “Rox, Buck, this is Lexington Actual. Come in.”
“Lexington, we read you,” Rox said. “Awaiting orders to proceed.”
“Be advised,” Plaas said in a serious tone, “the Lexington has taken fire. We have sustained heavy damage.”
“Son of a bitch!” Cmdr. Pierce blurted, which did not concern the XO in the least.
“Sir, how bad is it?” Marjorie asked.
“Severe but we’re still operational. We lost the starboard hangar bay.”
“Shit! How are we going to dock?” Marjorie said.
“We’ll work on a solution, commander,” the XO said.
Captain Long joined in. “Buck, I want you to proceed with the mission. There’s nothing we can do at the moment; the enemy craft is long gone. Clear out the vermin with extreme prejudice. See if you can find any survivors from team one. Take prisoners if possible but take no extra chances. In and out and back as soon as possible.”
“Roger, Lexington. Orders received and understood,” Cmdr. Pierce said in a much-defused tone of voice.
“There it goes,” the XO said, pointing to the track of the reactor. “Comms, get a live camera on it, now!”
“Aye, sir,” an officer said. The center bridge screen changed to the port-side view of the ship, with a lumpy dark cylinder gliding away and behind the Lexington.
“Arm the heavies!” the XO said.
“There’s no time, Bel,” Long said. “Look at that velocity.”
“Are you telling me that son of a bitch—” and Long held a finger to his lips in a hush gesture “—are you telling me, we have nothing that can hit that damn ship from here?”
“One hundred miles,” the tactical officer announced. “One twenty. One forty. That’s it, sir. We can’t target anything moving that fast.”
“Dammit!” Plaas cursed. “Engineering, what can we expect from that reactor core?”
“Commander, let’s just be at least a mile away when it blows! The farther the better,” Chief Engineer Parsons said.
“How long?” the captain asked.
“It could take up to—”
There was a bright flash on the screen that overloaded the camera feed to white static.
“Well, that’s it,” Chief Engineer Parsons said.
“And what’s the condition of the other three reactors, chief?” the XO asked.
“Uh, we’re running detailed scans of each reactor and all coolant lines. So far, so good.”
“Keep an eye on them, chief. Monitor them carefully. I want to know if there’s any change, however slight, to the power output or temperature readings,” the captain said.
“Aye, sir. We’re on it.”
* * * *
“We’re going to create a diversion in the cargo hold,” Cmdr. Pierce said to his men in the back of Beetle Two. “Just a diversion, not an actual breach. I want them to think we’re coming in that way, and lead them away from the top hatch.”
The troopers all nodded. MSgt. Connor said, “Explosives, commander?”
Buck nodded. “Put a timer on it, keep the yield low. I don’t want the access hatch blown. Our men could be anywhere on the ship. If they’re still alive. We’re still operating on that assumption.”
“Right,” Connor affirmed. “Willard, you’re on the diversion detail with Biggs. Biggs, escort him, get him into position. He’s greener than a spinach salad so be extra cautious. Willard, plant it, then hustle back. When it blows, we’ll dock with the top port. I can only hope they aren’t monitoring the cameras or that they’re knocked out. Nothing we can do about that. When I give you the signal, you set off the diversion, and we—”
“Sir, a moment!” Lt. Sanderson said from the cockpit. He leaned to the right, looking back through the open cockpit door toward the troopers.
“Yes, lieutenant?” Cmdr. Pierce said.
“I can set us down like a pillow. The only way they’ll know we’re docked is if they’ve got an ear on the port hatch. Or, obviously, if they open it from their side.”
Cmdr. Pierce looked to MSgt. Connor with a grin and a nod. Connor said, “That’s outstanding, lieutenant! Let’s do it.”
Lt. Sanderson nodded. “We’re on approach. I’ll have us docked with the port momentarily. Assuming the rear cameras are offline, we’ll not be noticed.”
“Right. Willard, Biggs, are you ready? Willard, you’re the demo man. What size of charge will do the trick?”
Willard pulled out a shock cord made of C4, used to breach hatches. “I was thinking of using this on the bulkhead. It’s thin enough that it won’t penetrate the bulkhead.”
“Are you sure, Willard?” Connor asked. “It’s the same stuff this wall is made of . . .” and he pounded the wall with the back of his fist.
“No danger of a breach, sir. That wall is nanofiber. Much stronger than steel,” Willard said.
“Okay then,” Connor said.
The troopers watched Willard and Biggs make their way along the ship’s hull toward the rear cargo hold.
“That’s an impressive sight,” Cpl. Helsberg observed while looking at the mercenary ship’s battle damage. “I’ve never seen heavy mount damage before.”
Connor looked around. “I doubt if any of us has. You, sir?”
Cmdr. Pierce shook his head. “No, I sure have not, master sergeant. It is indeed a fine piece of engineering, that navy weapon. I get the very same awe here that I got every time I was near the George Washington, looking up at her from the water line or coming in by chopper. You’ve gotta love those big navy guns.”
“I can’t believe the heavy mount did that much damage in just one shot!” Cpl. Helsberg said, her big blue eyes looking childlike behind the faceplate.
Pieces of the starboard engine and half of the cargo hold were floating away in all directions, the largest of which was still visible, spinning wildly a quarter mile aft of the ship. The ship was itself spinning gently counter-clockwise at a quarter rpm, which made docking easy.
A few minutes later, Biggs and Willard were back in view, making their way toward the Beetle. Willard said, “Good to go, sir,” and held up the remote detonator.
“Alright, men—and lady—this is it. Biggs, close the rear and get the air flowing.”
“Got it,” Biggs said as the hatch rose upward and sealed the rear of the ship. They heard the high-pitched hiss of air filling the compartment. “Okay, air pressure at ten pounds.”
“That should be good enough to pull our hatch anyway,” Connor said, and then he unlocked the opened the floor hatch and tilted it up and over, revealing the hatch on the other ship.”
“Damn, red light,” Connor said. We’ll have to cut through. There goes our surprise entrance. Willard, break out the thermite.”
“Got it right here, sir,” Willard said, holding a tiny wrapped cylinder.
“Do it,” Connor ordered.
Willard set the cylinder of thermite on the edge of the hatch over the lock. “Sir, I recommend evacuating the air and sealing the compartment.”
Connor said, “No can do, Willard. Popping the hatch would cause a very brief but still explosive decompression into our bird.”
The Legacy of Earth (Mandate Book 2) Page 19