Hide the Lightning

by Kevin Steverson

  “I…” Hank looked at a new message on the slate he was holding, shook his head, and looked up. “I do need a hand. Can you make it over here and get us? Lock us to your magnetic struts. We need a ride.”

  “Yes,” Stan confirmed. “We will prepare a cable to divert power to your ship and get you off emergency power. I say we lock both ships to Salvage Title.”

  “At least it will put some shielding around us,” agreed Hank.

  * * *

  Salvage Title

  Finally, when the some of the lighting came back on, emergency crews arrived and started to work on consoles. Getting the ship’s controls back was a priority. Medics arrived. Some took Lena from the bridge; others started checking the wounded. Norblon let up on his thigh. The bleeding was at a trickle, and a medic took over, spraying it with a disinfectant pain killer and bandaging it tightly.

  Looking at his blood-soaked pants leg and at Private Norblon’s hands, the medic said, “You’re lucky as frost, sir. Seriously. That was arterial. Good job, Private.” She injected him with a bag of artificial blood to help him until his body made more, made some notes in a small comp, and moved on to help others.

  Harmon hopped to his seat while leaning on Norblon, sat down, and contacted the defensive bridge. “Clip, talk to me.”

  “It’s bad,” Clip answered, the speaker crackling. “Jayneen’s flying the ship. You lost both helm consoles up there. Zee and his crew are catching all kinds of frost. We have one fusion plant and only two engines. Shields are almost nonexistent. We’re venting from several decks. Big Jon and his guys have almost sealed those areas. We lost quite a few crewmembers.”

  “Squat,” Harmon said. “I know. Lena’s gone.”

  “Frost,” Clip replied. They were both lost in their thoughts for a moment. “I thought we lost you when I couldn’t reach you,” Clip said after several moments. “Jayneen rerouted some stuff and sent some power to the bridge so she could use some of the cameras. I figured you were alright when she intensified the view for dim light and we saw the Marine holding you down. You alright?”

  “Yeah,” Harmon answered. “It’s just a scratch. It’ll heal.” He looked up and saw the look on the private’s face. He held his finger to his lips and shook his head.

  “I saw that, Harmon,” Jayneen admonished. “I will be looking at your medical file and reporting it to Evelyn. Call it invasion of your privacy if you wish. It will still happen.”

  “What can you tell me about the fleet?” Harmon asked. “I need to know our status now that the Bleeve have continued out of range.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Bleeve Dreadnaught Devastation

  “They have arrived,” Admiral Gorligthah said in triumph. “Finally, we can resupply and be done with this circling game.”

  “Yes, sir,” agreed Vice Admiral Ashlah. “Several of the smaller ships have no more missiles.”

  “Sir, the reserve commander is reporting an attack by Salvage ships near the Bith gate,” reported the communications officer. “They are continuing and have veered toward us. I am awaiting damage reports.”

  “They better not lose too many,” growled the admiral. “Especially the supply ship. We’re down to twenty-nine combat effective ships. With those missiles and ships, we can combine fleets and be rid of the Salvage ships.”

  Later the vice admiral skittered over to speak to the admiral. “It appears as if the enemy is moving to meet our Reserve Fleet, Admiral,” Ashlah observed. “As damaged as Salvage is, surely they don’t think they can defeat them?”

  “It would seem so,” Gorligthah said. “We are running low on missiles; they must be nearly out. Even if they somehow manage to stop us from getting the resupply, we can take them. They will have nothing left.”

  “Sir, we have detected a task force moving toward Nazrooth,” reported the tactical officer. “It would seem one of them is a troop transport.”

  “Let them go,” Gorligthah said with dismissal. “They may get troops on the surface, but General Fellgothah will take care of the issue. Order the transport ships to come to our location. There is no sense in letting the enemy destroy them. We will take care of those later. Give me an update on our repairs.”

  An hour later Admiral Gorligthah watched the tiny flashes of light on the main screen as the sensor platforms focused in on the battle. The distance was too great for him to tell what was happening. He saw a huge flash of light.

  “What was that?” he demanded. “That did not look like the others.”

  “Sir, sensors indicate a large surge of raw energy,” answered the tactical officer.

  “A commander from one of the battlecruisers is calling, claiming the enemy has a new weapon, sir,” Vice Admiral Ashlah said from over by the communications console. “The supply ship’s shields are down.”

  “Impossible,” stated the admiral. “The Bottomless Pit has more shielding than this ship. It would take many hits by their pulse cannons to do that. All the shielding? Impossible.”

  He turned back to the screen and continued watching. He saw the flash of light again, followed by obvious explosions as the Bottomless Pit came apart. He turned quickly toward the tactical console.

  The tactical officer checked his screen again, made an adjustment, and turned back to the admiral. “It happened again. It came from the ship registered as Salvage Title, their flagship. They have a new weapon that wasn’t on the video, and it is devastating.”

  The admiral threw the slate he was holding against the bulkhead. “Push the repairs. Have that cursed missile carrier distribute some more of its stores amongst the fleet. We are going to need everything to get past them to the gate. Even then, everyone won’t make it. The only thing saving us now is the fact that they are as damaged as we are.”

  He paused a moment. “On second thought, we will not have to head to the gate. We stay in place and wait. When the other fleet takes Salvage System, they will send ships here. Then we will catch them in a pincer and wrap them up. They will not get any resupply. Continue repairs and let me know when the ships that survived that battle reach us. I want to know more about that weapon.”

  * * *

  Transport Shuttle 4

  Nazrooth

  Securely strapped into the commander’s seat on the Stomper, Captain Nathan Brink felt the thud through his seat, through the Stomper secured in the bay, and from the body of the shuttle. He looked over at Corporal Zarmlon with a raised eyebrow. She shrugged her shoulders and put her helmet on. He decided that wasn’t a bad idea.

  Once his helmet was connected to his battle armor, he scrolled through the tabs showing on his translucent screen. He could still see through the clear-steel beyond the tables of information. Using his override, he called the crew operating the shuttle.

  “It’s a little bumpy back here, what was that last one?” Nate asked.

  “Hey, sir,” a raspy voice came back. “Sharvleek just took the top off a huge tree. It was that or expose us to potential radar. We should be good. Minimal damage. We’ll keep riding the contours for another five, and then we cut hard to stay behind the mountain range, so hold on back there. When we hit the surface and offload, we need to move out in a hurry. We’re slotted to get back to Special Delivery and pick up a load of Ground Forces, so can you see if you can get them offloaded in record time?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Nate assured him. “You’re loaded with the Command Stomper and the Maintenance Team. It won’t take us long, even with their equipment.”

  “Roger that,” the co-pilot replied. “Thanks.”

  Nate pulled up the map overlay of the area they would disembark in. It was near a series of rolling hills and a ridgeline. On the other side, between them and a small city, a little over a thousand Bleeve were encamped. The high-altitude drones showed they were dug in with several artillery pieces in place to cover the opening of the valley. Nate didn’t doubt they had a company of tanks as well.

  Once t
he Bolts were securely on the ground, they would use a broad river running through the hills as a means to get a contingent to a lake behind the enemy. Most of the lake was not in view of the camp. The lake itself backed against a mountain range ending in cliffs. The commander of that unit had made sure his rear was not vulnerable to attack. He hadn’t thought of an attack coming from the lake as the mechs rose out of the water.

  When that happened, the Bolts’ tanks would come around one of the hills in a bounding overwatch as the artillery dropped rounds to prep for the infantry’s assault. Even with the surprise, it wouldn’t be easy. The Bleeve had mechs designed for their eight-legged bodies, and their troops had body armor. The consensus among the leadership had been that the Bleeve armor was more in line with defending against lasers and not the kinetic rounds fired from a mech’s railgun. Time would tell.

  After the entire unit was safely on the ground, Nate reported back to Colonel Arthok and watched from the open hatch of his Stomper as the last of the mechs disappeared into the river. They were led by the Specialty Platoon. Several of the Heavy Mechs carried the much smaller Beetle Mechs, piloted by Smilps, in their claws. It was an interesting sight.

  “Now we wait,” Nate said to the first sergeant as they watched the ammo bearers back the artillery pieces into position. They didn’t unhook, since they were prepared to fire and move before returning rounds came in.

  “Yes, sir,” Top agreed. Top put on his helmet and called Nate on their private channel. “Hey sir, I think I need to stick with Second Platoon. Their location in the battle plan gives us a cross view of the action when we hit them.”

  “Agreed,” Nate said. “Once the mechs are in place and Colonel Arthok starts the attack on the other half of this brigade, it’s go time.”

  “Roger, sir,” Top said. “I still can’t believe this unit has set up here. They should know the hills to the west give an enemy the advantage. I’d have set up on the plains where no one could surprise us and the anti-air emplacements could do their thing.”

  “Me, too, Top,” Nate said. “Me, too.”

  * * *

  Skitter Forces Headquarters

  “We have confirmation, General,” the intelligence officer said. “Forces have landed, and the anti-air batteries never got off a shot. They came in on the other side of the planet and traveled low to their landing zone.”

  “We knew they were coming from the messages before the transport ships left orbit,” General Fellgothah said. “I suspected that was how they would do it.” He glanced over at Colonel Klayrah. “What have the reconnaissance drones revealed?”

  “In bits and pieces, we have determined their numbers to be approximately fifteen hundred, give or take a hundred,” answered the major. “Right now it’s a back and forth game with our drones. We destroy theirs; they shoot down ours. We were able to confirm with a high-altitude flyover by one of the fighters.”

  “You are sure those are the only troops to reach the planet?” the general asked.

  “We believe so,” answered the major. He walked over and placed symbols for the enemy forces on the map. “They are massing for an attack on the Third Battalion of Fourth Brigade.”

  “It would make sense,” agreed General Fellgothah. “With that brigade split up, it is a unit they outnumber. Only slightly, but they do outnumber them. This tells me they have drones we don’t know about…or air support.”

  “Yes, sir,” the major said. “We are looking. This is something we did not expect. There are many assets we could have brought with us had we known it was more than a show of force mission. That and resource gathering.”

  “I should have been brought from retirement during the planning stages,” stated the general for the hundredth time, “not when the fleet was ready to disembark.” He looked over at Colonel Klayrah with a look that dared the younger Bleeve to say anything.

  “I agree, sir,” answered the major, not wanting to get involved with whatever was going on between his seniors. “I was not in on the planning. Like you, I can only work with what I have, and it’s not much.”

  General Fellgothah stood, looking at the map and what he knew of the enemy’s placement and movement since landing. Finally, after making up his mind, he turned to the major. “They will come this way and attack our units head on. It is the only reason for this placement. They must have air support along with the other assets they landed with. Somewhere back behind them is an airfield. Draw up a plan for our air assets to consolidate, and prepare to meet them before they can assist.”

  “Sir, that will put our fighters dangerously low on fuel,” Colonel Klayrah reasoned. “Our air bases are here, here, and here. We only have twenty-four mission capable due to maintenance issues.”

  “If surprise is on our side, we may be able to take their air assets out,” the general said, dismissing him. “This will be a straightforward battle. They will prep with artillery; we will attempt to counter. Theirs will be mobile; ours are dug in. With the protection our forces have, we will take some losses, but they will run out of ordnance and still have to attempt a frontal attack.”

  “If they attempt to flank us?” asked the major

  “They cannot,” said the general. “This is why I had the forces dig in there. It allows our forces to shift to prepared positions. No, this will be a classic fight. Unit on unit.”

  “What if they have reserve troops on their carrier?” asked the major.

  “What do you suggest?” the general asked in a teaching moment.

  “We need to designate two of our fighters to attack any descending dropships or troop transports.”

  “Do it,” General Fellgothah agreed, “but also know they cannot depend on them to come anywhere near the battle area. It will expose them to our anti-air batteries. They will no longer have the whole planet to cover their descent, nor the mountains keeping them from our radars.”

  Colonel Klayrah skittered out of the prefabricated building, a step up from the tent they occupied recently. Disgusted with the attitude of the general and the upstart major, he went to find a few likeminded officers. There were others who felt this incursion was only a minor thing. If the two battalions couldn’t defeat them, surely one of the other brigades would.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Salvage Ground Forces

  Nazrooth

  Colonel Arthok looked up and over at those gathered around him. “You heard Grane. The air support is a no-go. They can’t get near us without engaging in dogfights. We’re taking out some of their fighters, but they’ve shot down some of ours as well. I’ve sent two teams on hovercraft to locate and rescue downed pilots.”

  “It’s a good thing they don’t have to worry about hostile locals,” suggested a major, “and we know where their military forces are.”

  “True,” agreed Arthok, “but that doesn’t help us with air support. I’m moving up the timetables. The Bolts are in place, and we are, as well. Right now they have enough in their power cells on the mechs to fight without worry. If we wait four more hours, some of them may run low before they take care of the other half of this brigade. We can’t afford for them to stop and recharge.”

  “Give me time to get back to my guns, and we’re ready,” his artillery commander said. “We’ll rain pain on them, sir.”

  “I know you will, Harker, I know you will.” Arthok grinned.

  “I like it, sir,” Lieutenant Colonel Zheta said. “Instead of hitting them in the middle of the night, we hit them as the sun sets. I really like that we’re coming in from the west. I’ll take every advantage my tanks can get.”

  “Nighttime, daytime,” Lieutenant Colonel Jalobath added, “it all sucks in the infantry. That’s why we love it. While we’re all gathered together, I’d like to thank you all once more for your support.”

  Everyone groaned at the old military cliché. Every job in an army is designed to support the infantryman. They didn’t deny it. They couldn’t, and he knew it.

/>   “Yeah, well, now that you have some mechs, you’re leaning my way, old friend,” Zheta said. “Perhaps there’s some tanker in you after all.”

  * * *

  Bolt Command Stomper

  Nazrooth

  “That’s it,” Nate said over the secure command link, “we’re a go. Drop some on them, Smithers.”

  Twelve 150mm rounds left the cannons at almost the same instant when Lieutenant Smithers gave the command. The sound was unmistakable. The crews scrambled to reload.

  A two-man team on the other side of the hills stayed low in their camouflaged position and watched for the impacts. The rounds struck where they were supposed to, among the dug-in artillery pieces and the two anti-air batteries. With a grin, the corporal called over the artillery channel, “Fire for effect.”

  Each gun crew dropped three more rounds and scrambled to get the pieces ready to move. They dove into the open back hatch of the ammo-bearing armored vehicles as they started moving. Two hundred yards away and off to the north they bailed out and prepared to fire again. They would get in four more salvos, shifting targets according to the forward observers, before their own troops would be in the danger area.

  The tanks were up ahead, ready to come out from behind the rolling hills. Timing was the key. Behind them, the infantry would follow.

  “Move us out, Corporal Loftis,” Nate ordered over the Stomper’s internal radio.

  “Roger that, sir,” Collyn Loftis answered. He could practically hear the grin in her voice.