by Ryk Brown
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Commander Telles did not reply. Instead, he turned and headed toward the exit, tapping his comm-set on his way. “Flight Ops, Telles, ready both shuttles for immediate departure.”
CHAPTER THREE
“One minute to jump!” the shuttle’s crew chief announced over their helmet comms. “Starting depress!”
“Ghatazhak!” Master Sergeant Jahal barked. “Stand ready!”
All twenty-four men stood along either side of the cargo shuttle. The space was already a tight fit for its standard load of twenty soldiers in full space battle gear, let alone for the twenty-six that were currently on board.
“Thirty seconds!” the crew chief shouted as he reached for the door controls. “Ramp, coming down!”
There was a gust of air as the last of the cargo jump shuttle’s cabin pressure was sucked out the back of the ship. The rear loading ramp pivoted outward and downward on its hinges, quickly turning into an extension of the cargo shuttle’s deck that protruded a good three meters aft.
“Five seconds! Eyes tight!” the copilot called over the comms.
Commander Telles closed his eyes tightly as he waited for the jump, the flash burning through his eyelids as a brief yet intense orange glow.
“Jump complete!”
Commander Telles opened his eyes, looking down the narrow corridor between the two rows of men into the black void beyond.
“Go, go, go!” came the call from the cockpit.
The two Ghatazhak soldiers closest to the rear of the shuttle jogged briskly out toward the end of the ramp, with the eleven other pairs following close behind. Two by two, the soldiers stepped off the end of the ramp, firing tiny thrusters and spreading out in all directions as they floated freely behind the shuttle. Within seconds, all twenty-six men were drifting a few meters behind the cargo shuttle, their distance from the ship increasing by only a meter per minute.
Commander Telles and Master Sergeant Jahal were the last ones off the shuttle’s ramp. The commander looked down at the control stick sitting on a small arm protruding from the left side of the maneuvering pack encircling his waist just below his backpack. “Rotate,” he ordered calmly. He grasped the stick and gave it a tiny twist to the right, causing his rotation thrusters to briefly fire. His body rotated around quickly, bringing into view the back of the cargo jump shuttle they had just left. Behind it was the massive Jung battleship, without power and adrift on the outer edges of the Tau Ceti system. Another tiny twist of his control stick in the opposite direction stopped his rotation as easily as it had started.
The rest of his men also fired their thrusters, bringing them around to face their direction of flight. The cargo shuttle in front of them fired its own thrusters, translating quickly upward, revealing the gaping hole in the side of the massive enemy ship only a few hundred meters ahead of them. Several of its guns were still pointed directly at them, as if daring them to drift closer. But they did not move.
“Eyes tight again, gentlemen,” the copilot called over the comms. “Good luck.”
The shuttle disappeared in a flash of light from behind them, leaving the twenty-six soldiers gliding rapidly toward the crippled Jung battleship.
“Damn, you sure those guns are dead, sir?” one of his men inquired.
“If they weren’t, you wouldn’t be able to ask that question,” the master sergeant replied.
Commander Telles examined the nearby hull with his tactical scanners, searching for any threats. His display showed that his men had properly spaced themselves out to ensure that everyone would make contact with the hull of the target at a different point. “Two hundred meters,” he announced as they continued coasting toward the battleship. Even at this distance, the enemy ship was all they could see in their visors without turning their heads, and it was getting bigger with each passing second. “Picking up some activity aft of the target area,” the commander added. “Low-level energy systems, exterior, mostly.”
“Static charges left on the hull, maybe?” Master Sergeant Jahal guessed. “Left over from Scout Three’s jump, perhaps?”
“We’ll execute a fifteen second decel burn at fifty meters,” the commander ordered. “At twenty-five meters, we power down then power back up after we’ve made contact.”
“Jump complete,” Mister Riley reported as the jump flash faded and the interior of the Aurora’s bridge returned to its customary, red-tinged alert lighting.
“Bring us along her starboard side, in line with her breach,” Nathan directed. “Nose in to keep our forward tubes on her aft propulsion section.”
“Aye, sir,” Mister Chiles acknowledged.
“Lock all weapons on her starboard guns, Lieutenant,” Nathan continued. “One for one. If she so much as flinches, I want those guns taken out.”
“She’s got more guns than we do, Captain. I suggest we target her biggest ones first.”
“Agreed, Mister Navashee. If that ship shows any signs of powering up her engines, don’t hesitate to let us know.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If she tries to run, blow her fucking tail off.”
“Locking forward tubes on target’s propulsion section,” Luis replied. “Helm, give me a forty-five degree roll to starboard for a better firing angle.”
“Rolling forty-five to starboard, aye.”
“I’ve got Commander Telles and his forces on opticals,” Mister Navashee reported. “They’re one hundred meters from the breach, closing at five meters per second.”
“Put them on the screen,” Nathan ordered.
“Switching to midship topside cameras.”
The image of the aft end of the Jung battleship disappeared, replaced a moment later by a close-up view of the enemy ship’s starboard midship area. He could barely make out the black figures of the twenty-six Ghatazhak soldiers as they coasted toward the breach on the side of the target.
“Seventy-five meters,” Mister Navashee updated. “Still only minimal internal power, batteries I’d say. Not enough to run anything other than emergency lighting, maybe some internal comms. Fifty meters. The Ghatazhak are firing their deceleration thrusters now.”
“Any chance the Jung know they’re coming?” Nathan asked.
“Not unless they’re looking out the window at them, sir. I’m barely picking up anything from them on sensors. Just a tiny amount of electrical energy. They’re stealthy as hell.”
“How’s it looking, Lieutenant?” Nathan asked. He couldn’t help but feel nervous sitting less than a kilometer away from an enemy ship that was three times their size with twice as many guns.
“Nothing’s moving, Captain.”
“Jump flash,” Mister Navashee reported. “Five kilometers astern of the target. It’s Scout Two.”
“Comms, tell Roselle to keep his tubes on the target’s main drive. Fire if they light up.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Another jump flash, Captain,” Mister Navashee added. “One hundred kilometers off our port side. Falcon Four.”
“Incoming message from Falcon Four,” Ensign Souza announced. “They’re just back from Porto Santo, refueled and reloaded. Porto Santo control received your message, they’ll have a couple hundred Ghatazhak and a few more Falcons here shortly.”
“Decel burn is complete,” Mister Navashee stated. “Captain, they’re powering down.”
“Why would they power down?” Luis wondered.
“I’m sure the commander knows what he’s doing,” Nathan replied.
Despite what his tactical display had told him prior to powering down, Commander Telles wished he had burned his deceleration thrusters a few seconds longer. The jagged, torn-up decks of the damaged battleship were still coming toward them quite rapidly.
Withou
t comms and tactical display, the commander felt very much alone. No comm chatter and no radio static. No beeps, tones, or alarms from his tactical display as data readouts changed. No whirring of fans blowing fresh air into his suit and sucking out the bad. Just the sound of his own breathing, and the occasional rustling of the inner lining of his suit as he moved his arms. He knew that there were twenty-five of his men spread out behind him, but at the moment, it was just him…and the damaged deck of the enemy ship coming toward him.
Much of the damage line was clean, almost surgical, while other sections, some deeper into the breach, appeared more irregular, with torn, jagged edges. Cabling dangled everywhere like spider webs. Bulkheads were bent and twisted, after their supporting structures were suddenly taken away by Scout Two’s jump fields. Pressurized gasses vented from severed pipes and ducts, and various fluids drifted about in groups of odd-shaped globules.
Drops of red and green fluids splattered across his visor as he coasted across the breach threshold. He was a little low, and the twisted deck was coming toward his knees. The commander swung his legs up, bringing his feet up and forward just in time to push up slightly on the deck as he coasted across its edge. Without gravity, he careened upward clumsily, bouncing off the overhead and slamming into a section of ventilation ducting that hung askew from its moorings. The impact caused his body to spin laterally as he tumbled. He felt something drag across his backpack as he continued deeper into the open compartment. Cabling. Lots of it, dragging across him, catching on his equipment and slowing him down. He only hoped it didn’t damage his life-support or combat systems.
Finally, he came to a stop, floating above the deck, tangled in the mass of cables. He could see Master Sergeant Jahal coming toward him, a grin on his face. The master sergeant reached out and turned on the commander’s power for him, then pulled out his combat knife and started cutting away at the cabling. Once he had freed his commander, he turned his own power back on as well.
“That was the most ungainly landing I’ve ever had the pleasure of witnessing,” he mused over the comms.
“Glad you enjoyed it,” the commander replied dryly as he pulled on the remaining wires to right himself. He looked around at his men. “Count off,” he ordered as he waited for his tactical display to boot up.
The commander activated his mag-boots and made his way toward the nearest hatch as his men reported in.
“Missing one,” Master Sergeant Jahal said after the count was complete.
“Korlan didn’t make it,” one of the men explained. “Hit a torn piece of sheeting, nearly cut him in two. Bled out in seconds.”
“You know the drill,” the master sergeant reminded his men. “One, three, and five head for command and control. Two, four, and six for propulsion and main power. Three separate levels each way. No prisoners. If it breathes, it dies.”
“Three, set.”
“Five, set.”
One of the men slapped charges onto the upper and lower halves of the hatch and activated their detonators. He turned to the commander. “One set.”
Telles, Jahal, and the other four members of their team moved off to either side of the forward hatch, as the remaining teams reported their charges were set.
“Ready charges,” the commander ordered. He pointed toward the soldier who had the detonator in his hand. “Fire in the hole.”
The deck shook beneath their feet for a moment as the charges flashed in silence, tearing the hatch apart and sending debris across the damaged compartment. The air in the next compartment, along with anything that wasn’t secured, was sucked out into the vacuum. Two Jung crewman, arms and legs thrashing about, were sucked out along with the wreckage, horrified expressions on their faces at the reality that death would be upon them in seconds.
The flow of debris stopped a few seconds later and the first four men charged into the next compartment, followed by Commander Telles and the master sergeant.
Commander Telles could feel the Jung ship’s artificial gravity take hold of him as he stepped through the hatch into the next compartment.
“Clear left,” the first soldier reported.
“Clear right,” the other followed.
“Setting charges,” the third man announced.
“Are we gonna blow our way through the entire ship?” the fourth soldier wondered.
“We’ll find an airlock sooner or later,” Master Sergeant Jahal remarked. “Besides, I don’t think we have enough charges.”
“I’ve got the deck plans from the Jar-Keurog. If these two ships are at all similar, there should be an airlock three compartments forward, as we pass through one of the major structural bulkheads.”
“Charges set,” the third man reported as he waited for the others to move to the sides of the compartment. “Fire in the hole.”
There was another silent flash of light as the charges detonated. Debris shot across the compartment, careening off the far wall. The men charged forward into the next compartment. Flashes of energy weapons fire filled the compartment as the commander followed his men through the hatch.
The weapons fire lasted only a few seconds.
“Clear left.”
“Clear right.”
On the far side of the compartment, his demolitions tech, Sergeant Arana, was pushing aside the body of a man in an emergency pressure suit that was blocking his access to the next hatch. Two more bodies, also in emergency pressure suits, were lying to the right, blood pouring from open wounds. On the other side were three more men without suits, their hands and faces bloated, with horrified, suffocated expressions.
“Setting charges,” Sergeant Arana reported.
“I’m picking up four energy weapons in the next compartment,” one of the soldiers reported, “with about a dozen more in the corridor on the far side.”
“Breach charges on both sides,” the commander ordered. “There and there,” he instructed, pointing to the far ends of the compartment on either side of the hatch.
The men shifted to the indicated corners, turning toward Sergeant Arana at the hatch as they got into position. The sergeant tossed a pair of charges to each of the two men, who quickly affixed them to the wall as the sergeant had done on the hatch.
Commander Telles moved to the wall to the right of the hatch, while Master Sergeant Jahal went left.
“Colmeany and Takore take the right, Jahal and Willette left,” the commander instructed. “Arana and I will take center.”
“Set left,” Private Willette reported.
“Set right,” Private Colmeany announced.
“Blow the center first, wait ten, then the sides.”
Sergeant Arana nodded, armed his detonator, then looked both ways to make sure that the rest of his squad was ready. “Fire in the hole,” he muttered as he pushed the detonator button.
The charges flashed, making no sound in the vacuum of the depressurized compartment. Chunks of the hatch flew across the room, slamming into the far wall and falling to the deck.
Commander Telles leaned in and sprayed the interior of the next compartment with energy weapons fire, sending red bolts of energy in all directions. He ducked back as the enemy on the other side of the hatch returned fire. He nodded at the sergeant.
Flashes on both sides of the compartment detonated, opening gaping holes in the wall at either end of the room. Master Sergeant Jahal jumped through the opening, his weapon firing before he entered. There were two mangled bodies on the deck in front of him, torn apart by the secondary blasts. He concentrated his fire on the opposite back corner of the room, spraying toward the center and back, taking care not to fire into the other corner where Colmeany and Takore would be. The enemy attempted to return fire, but only got a few more shots off before they too fell to the Ghatazhak energy weapons.
“Clear left!” Ma
ster Sergeant Jahal announced.
“Clear right!” Private Colmeany replied.
“Forces in the next corridor are backing off,” Telles reported as he entered the compartment.
“Why the fuck would they do that?” Willette wondered. “That’s the airlock, right,” he said, pointing at the next hatch. “They’d have us boxed in.”
“I’m guessing they don’t know how many of us there are,” Master Sergeant Jahal said. “You can only fit so many of us in that airlock at a time. They probably want to let us in a few at a time and pick us off on the other side.”
“Or one of our other teams is giving them hell right now,” Private Colmeany suggested.
“More likely they’re afraid we’ll just open up every compartment to space and suffocate everyone without a pressure suit,” Commander Telles said. “Either way it doesn’t matter. We try the airlock. Once we’re inside the inner hull, we can move a lot more quickly.”
“All right, boys. You heard the man. Into the airlock we go,” Master Sergeant Jahal said, gesturing toward the airlock hatch.
“Captain! New contacts!” Mister Navashee reported from the Aurora’s sensor station. “From the battleship. They’re launching shuttles!”
“Escape shuttles?” Nathan asked.
“Correction, fast-attack shuttles, sir. Four of them.”
“Targeting new contacts with forward point defenses,” Luis announced from the tactical station.
“Targets are moving away, accelerating rapidly,” Mister Navashee added.
“Captain, Scout Two reports they are targeting the enemy shuttles,” Ensign Souza added.
“Targets acquired, ready to fire,” Luis reported.
“Open fire…”
“Contacts are going to FTL,” Mister Navashee warned. “Contacts are gone.”