MissionSRX: Deep Unknown

by Matthew D. White

  “Well this will just rip that bandage right off,” Grant exclaimed and rotated the picture once more. It might have been an alien system, but he found it strangely intuitive, similar to the other areas of the ship he had seen so far. “If nothing else, just remember these guys will be shit-outta-luck if we fail. I think they’ll set us up for success.”

  Fox looked away from the table and out once again through the massive window in the front of the command section. The forced-perspective down the deck almost made him lose sense of the size of it all. “It’s pretty amazing, but I think it can be done.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “The Lyrans must have seen this situation coming. They’ve automated nearly every ancillary function on the ship and added multiple redundancies.”

  “At least we won’t be fumbling for everything in the dark,” Grant nodded along with the commander. “How are we looking for staffing?”

  “I think pretty well. We’ve got to have about four hundred on the Flagstaff if we want to have any capabilities at all. That’s with minimal maintenance and support staff. We’ll have to reassign nearly everyone to offense/defense.”

  “And likewise on the Patriots?”

  “Exactly. They need about two-fifty per ship to keep them running and protected. We’ll have our pilots on standby, but we might have to break down the fighters to only a handful on each one.”

  “Same thing for Kael’s forces? Ground defense?”

  “That’s what I’m thinking. I want to say they had about seven hundred survivors after Mars, so we’d be able to stick a hundred or more on each ship to react to boarding actions.”

  “I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Grant added and brought up a larger picture of one of the Cygnan bases. It consisted of a single, towering spire which jutted far out into space, eclipsing the small rock and had at least two dozen smaller ships docked around its perimeter. “How much damage do you think the main cannon on a Patriot would do to that thing?”

  “No idea. From what I’ve seen, I don’t think they gathered any data on the construction or their shields.”

  “Empty or full, I want to drop one Patriot just to destroy it. The rest of us will clean up the ships and defenses. I think if it takes a few good hits to the base, we could break it right open. Goodbye power. Goodbye gravity. Goodbye life support.”

  “Yes, that might disable some of their long-range communications equipment, but we’ll still need to destroy the bulk of their forces one ship at a time.”

  “Agreed. I’m just looking at it to be the biggest setback for them possible.” Grant zoomed in on the scan of the installation. “If we hit it quick enough I’m hoping we can depressurize whatever is still attached.”

  Fox nodded again, focusing on another image. “Ground vehicles are still loaded on the Flagstaff. I don’t see a reason to move them out.”

  “Me neither. Tanks and personnel carriers aren’t going to be of much use here.” Grant thought about it for a minute. “I wonder what sort of equipment Omega has for ground combat.”

  “We can add it to the list. I don’t think we have the time to study up on all that right now. Judging from the rest of their operations around here I’m willing to bet it’s impressive.”

  “No doubt about that,” Grant agreed and glanced out through the glass. Without a sound, a silver metal vessel flashed into existence before them. “I bet that’s them.”

  You are indeed correct, Omega confirmed as he walked back to the alcove where the two commanders were discussing their strategy. Your crew is stationed on your ship, which is being carried by one of our medium transports.

  Fox watched the silver vessel approach, growing silently larger in the glass. “Rally with them on the Flagstaff?”

  “Absolutely. Sooner we know what we’re dealing with and moving out the better.”

  I will bring the transport in to dock with us. That will be the fastest method to get you across.

  The rest of the team quickly filtered back to the command deck at the direction of the commanders. Most had their hands empty, except for Kael and Mason, who entered with fanfare carrying two dark-gray devices.

  “What did you find?” Fox asked, sensing their building excitement.

  “New guns!” Major Kael shouted back, beaming. “Most of their stuff needs more hands, but they’ve got some mid-range suppression rifles we can use. Plus these.” He held out the weapon which resembled a short-barreled sniper rifle with an octagon on the front resembling a muzzle break and a round drum hanging off the stock.

  “Which is?”

  “High-explosive rail gun. It can shoot a dozen klicks without measurable delay and the charge can take out a platoon.”

  “So we won’t be stuck with ZiGs?” Grant questioned.

  “Only if you want to. We gave them the schematics for them and your M-14s for fabrication. If nothing else, they insist they have the facilities for ammo.” Kael passed the weapons around.

  “So what’s the plan?” he major asked.

  Grant looked around his team. Everyone was accounted for and Omega nodded from the lift behind him. “Follow me,” he ordered. “I’ll explain on the way.”

  Together they took the lift down several levels to meet the loading bridge. The bridge appeared to be of similar construction as the rest of the ship and flowed smoothly from the port observation deck straight out into space. The floor was over fifty meters wide, big enough to pass the smaller ships and vehicles across, and a few hundred meters long.

  Light gray railings bordered both sides, with an armored encasing structure beyond that gave a panoramic view of both the joined ships. Reaching the ground, their round platform landed and switched directions, instantly sliding them along their way down.

  “We’re still operating off of three known Cygnan targets,” Grant confirmed. “I want to use the Flagstaff to draw them out and hit them with five more Patriots. It’s got to be quick and we can’t have them escaping or calling for help.”

  “Before we get to that, do you think the Flagstaff can make the trip in one piece?”

  “I think so,” Scott replied. “We’re going to move to retrofit a few of the sublight processors with the Lyrans’ sensors. They use a similar technology, just at a vastly different level. We’ll also use their gate network on the push-off for extra reach.”

  A quizzical expression grew on Fox’s face. “That seems like quite a stretch. Do you really think you can combine something like that?”

  “Their engineers seemed optimistic, and they’re already working on some ideas,” Scott reported to the commander. “How different is it from Space Corps Research adding Aquillian technology to your fighter?”

  Grant nodded. “You’ve got a good point.”

  “What are we going to do to reach the second and third sites?” Fox asked.

  “We’ll use the gates again. They’ll follow us through once we make the initial strike. We’ll drop one at each site and it’ll start to calculate the position immediately. It won’t be quite as accurate as their more permanent installations, but it’ll be much better than running the ships alone.”

  Your crews have been assembled in the main briefing room opposite the cargo hangar, Omega announced as they closed in on the growing vessel ahead.

  Grant looked back at Fox. “Do you have some people in mind to run the Patriots?”

  “I’m thinking it’ll partially by my command staff. We’ve got some fast burners in support which I might need, but we’ll see. It’s going to be a tough balance. Which one are you taking?”

  “None. What are you talking about?”

  Fox stared back. “I’m talking about which ship you’re taking. Do you want a Patriot or do you want the Flagstaff?”

  Grant shook his head. “I’m not taking either one. I’m going to need you on your ship where you belong, but I’m taking my ship, if it’s still running.”

  “Are you crazy?” Fox shot back, the volume of his voice rising sharply. “You�
��re too valuable to be out in front! Even after everything that’s been thrown at you?”

  “Absolutely,” the commander confirmed. “I am here to fight, and that’s where I belong.”

  “And what happens when you don’t come back? Where does that leave the rest of them?” he demanded, gesturing at Omega. The alien stood stone still, as was his apparent custom and didn’t say a word.

  Grant ignored the strike and stood his ground. “Maybe they’ll give the job to you. Isn’t that what you wanted anyway?” he snapped, insinuating the feeling behind Fox’s tone.

  “At least I can accept the responsibility I’m given!”

  “Enough!” Kael’s rough voice broke through. “If that’s his choice, let him have it!” He looked over at Fox. “From what I’ve seen so far, I don’t think the commander is about to make it easy on any of them. He’s right; that’s where he belongs, and if that’s where he thinks he can have the most impact, so be it!”

  “Besides, with you backing me up, what do I have to worry about?” Grant smiled, directing the question at his fellow commander.

  “Don’t give me that. You’ve already got me out in front as the bait.”

  “I thought you just said I had the dangerous job.” Grant jabbed the knife again. “Don’t worry; I’ve got absolute faith that you’ll protect me.”

  The smugness of the response cut at Fox’s ego, but he forced himself to back down. It wasn’t a lost cause yet, he convinced himself, and they still had an excellent chance of success in the current operation. That is, if Omega had properly seen to their forces’ training.

  “I hope you’re right,” Fox muttered forcing him to defuse the exchange as the platform came to a halt at the edge of the medium transport’s loading bay. Omega stepped off first without a word and led their way aft. “Do you know what you’re going to say to them?”

  “Somewhat. I’m sure something will come to me.”

  “Tell them you love ‘em and sit down,” Kael laughed.

  The hallway ran long down the side of the ship, but they took the first left and the group found themselves at the front of a large conference room. Filling rows of seats from one side to the other was the entire crew of the Flagstaff, now readjusted and back in their service uniforms. Given the size of the crowd and the space yet remaining, Grant quickly estimated the room must have been able to seat an audience upwards of four thousand members.

  Light beamed in from behind the stage. Instead of a wall of egg foam, a towering panel of glass separated them from the main cargo bay. There, suspended above and filling the space rested the mass of their battleship. Try as he might, the forced perspective still gave Grant pause as he turned to address the gathered crew.

  “Space Corps!” Grant shouted to the room as the personnel stood in unison. “As promised, our next course of action has been chosen! Our enemy has been planning an invasion of Earth, but they aren’t going to get the chance. We have located three staging areas from which they will launch their attack. Together, we must destroy these facilities before they can do anymore damage. Our ally here has graciously given us the equipment we need to accomplish this task, but other than that we will be on our own.”

  Grant sighed. “We can spare no more time than what is needed for your training. You remember Extortion; our enemy is without mercy and we will reciprocate. Do I make myself clear?”

  The room hollered a rousing response in familiar fashion. Grant looked to Fox. “Do you have anything else to add?”

  “Yes. We’ll be taking the Flagstaff plus five of our host’s systems on this mission. I want the following members to stand back; everyone else is dismissed to resume their training. CLARK! RANS! SEBASTIAN! WRIGHT! PARKS!”

  Fox stepped back and their audience began to filter out. They didn’t hesitate and were not under the direction of any Lyrans, so he gathered they already knew their way around the transport to a decent degree.

  Grant kept half an eye on the crowd and picked out Fox’s command augmentees while his focus was on a series of massive…tapestries?… that hung from the ceiling and covered the side walls all the way from the top to the ground. They were exquisitely printed with rune-like lettering along with images of stars and planets and silhouettes of their warriors in the foreground.

  In a way it struck him as odd that they showed a dichotomy of thought, where they seemingly absconded from all violence yet still revered their soldiers among the highest. Maybe that was the point; they desired peace above all else but maintained a constant loving respect for those whose sacrifices allowed such an existence. He drifted in and out of the conversation the other commander was having behind him.

  “Gentlemen, Lady,” Fox started, with a nod to Rans. “As I mentioned, we’ve got the staff as it is to run the Flagstaff at min-manning, plus five of the Patriot battleships. If we can free additional support from Earth, we’ll have the manpower to bring more online; our estimate is in the thousands. I’ve selected you to be the first five ship captains in our new fleet.”

  The collection of officers shared a nervous exchange of glances as Fox finished.

  “First, I want to know about your training. What all have they been teaching you?”

  “All the officers got a quick rundown of the Patriot subsystems, but most of it was on the bridge to learn how to command the entire vessel. The lower-ranking guys were parsed up to hit more on maintenance and equipment operations.”

  “You’ve been together the entire time but it hasn’t been long; will you be able to operate their ships?” Grant broke in.

  Lieutenant Commander Clark nodded. “I think so, sir. Most of their systems are pretty flexible and they’ve been able to make some modifications to make them more accessible to us.”

  “Good. Kael and Mason mentioned the same thing about the armories.”

  “That too. They showed us some of their ground weapons that would fit our hands. They’ll at least be good for a backup if we’re out here too long,” Rans added.

  “How about tactics?” Fox inquired.

  “For the Patriots? There’s only so much they could do,” Clark reported. “But they let us study their previous operations to see their capabilities.”

  “Plus they set us up with some of their simulators to test out some moves on our own,” Sebastian added. “Bad thing is they’re only guessing at the Cygnans’ current doctrine, according to their trainers.”

  “Well you have my full confidence,” Fox encouraged the group. “We’re not going to have the people to do spot repairs or maintenance. It’s gonna be full-offensive, skeleton crew otherwise. We can barely cover all the guns as it is.”

  “Really?” Clark asked.

  “I’m afraid so. We’ll probably have a single shift for each ship and share them if needed. Major Kael will split his forces to provide assault protection and Commander Grant will be running interdiction and close support from his fighter along with the other fighter jocks we can find.”

  The commander gave the nod without a hint of animosity and continued to go through the rest of the plan at a high level before releasing the team to continue their preparations.

  9

  The group of officers left the briefing while still half in shock. “Can you believe this?” Lieutenant Wright exclaimed as they marched back into the main lateral hallway. “Seriously, we’re piloting those!” he added, pointing out through the long glass window enshrining the gigantic alien battleship at the far end of an extended, enclosed platform.

  “It’s an honor,” Rans remarked, following his direction.

  “I hope we can keep the plan intact,” Parks mused. “Can you imagine trying to shuttle repair crews between ships during a firefight? That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

  “As long as we keep our acts together, it shouldn’t come to that,” Clark reassured the other captains. “We just need to hit them hard and fast and keep them off the Flagstaff. We’ve been through worse together. Personally, though, I’m more worried about
the reinforcements.”

  “What reinforcements?”

  “He means, Commander Fox mentioned they have more Patriots, into the thousands,” Sebastian clarified. “That wasn’t anywhere in their briefings to us. That’s got to mean that they’re anticipating this thing getting a whole lot bigger. There’ll probably be a lot more after us.”

  “Tip of the spear. We can’t ask for any more than that,” Wright added.

  ***

  A floor away, Kael and Mason reconvened with the rest of their battalion. After sharing a round of greetings, Kael got to business explaining their part in the mission. They were in what must have been a support training room, nearly circular, with rings of seats encircling a raised platform towards the front.

  “According to the commanders, we’ll be taking a backseat on this one, but you’re not getting comfy yet!” Kael stated. “Our primary function will be pulling ship security for the alien rigs we’ve commandeered. We’re going to be spread thin, but I’ll be ordering shuttles on standby to move us between platforms if things totally go to shit.”

  He heard some murmuring from the crowd but stomped it by producing and slamming the alien rifle onto the small table before him. “Listen, the Lyrans aren’t going to be fighting alongside us, but that doesn’t mean we’re completely on our own. They’ve got stocked armories on all the Patriots that we’ll have access to if we need to rearm.”

  Sergeant Allen nodded from the front row. “They’ve got training ranges on the Patriots. We’ve only done squad movements with blanks so far, but they can support the low-caliber rifles too.”

  “Perfect,” Kael replied and set about carving up the squads between the ships.

  ***

  Scott Ryan opened his eyes and stared into endless space above on what was technically the morning of the third day, as if that meant anything anymore. He turned away from the starry expanse, misjudged the edge of his rack, and in a futile fling, slammed hard against the floor. The impact instantly smacked him into consciousness and sucked the air from his lungs.