* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Salvage Title
Harmon stood beside Rick Kashka. They watched as the huge bay door slowly closed and waited. The all clear was given for Harmon to enter the bay through the connecting chamber. They walked in and headed toward the small shuttle. It was parked next to the one Rick had arrived in. The Kashkal could have waited in the bay, since he was suited and breathing his own mixture of strange gases. He opted to wait with his friend instead.
The ramp slowly dropped, and Swarm Queen Mayrell walked down to its edge. Harmon realized she’d flown the shuttle herself. There was no security with her. She paused.
“Permission to board, Commodore?” she asked.
“Granted,” Harmon said with a grin.
She stepped down and walked over to the two of them. She was slightly taller than Harmon, as she stood on her back two legs. Up close, Harmon saw he was correct. She did have similar coloring to her aunt, the queen of Krift.
Harmon held out his hand and said, “Welcome to Salvage Title.”
Mayrell reached out and grasped his hand in the human form of greeting. “It is an honor to walk her decks.”
“Let me introduce you,” Harmon said. He turned toward Rick. “This is my new friend Swarm Queen Mayrell of the Krift. Mayrell, this is my old friend Rick Kashka of the Kashkal.”
“Swarm Queen,” Rick said, “It is a pleasure to meet another warrior.”
Mayrell dipped her head and said, “The pleasure is mine. Your reputation precedes you, Kashka. There is much I wish to learn from you.”
“And I you,” Rick said.
Mayrell tilted her head in surprise. “I lack the experience to teach one such as you,” she said.
“Here is your first lesson, my young ally,” Rick said. “No matter how much one has learned in the art of war, there is more to learn, even from the newest to enter the profession. I took note of your fighters serving as anti-missile defense.”
“You called me your ally,” Mayrell said. “I am humbled.”
“You answered the call to Salvage System. It is my home, also. Know that you are my ally. I intend to pay half the required contract fees once the mission is complete.”
“Rick, you don’t…” Harmon started to say.
Mayrell raised a limb and silenced them both, the small pincer on the end open. “The fee will only be one credit. This is only because a payment must be made to complete an All Call contract. We wish to sign a Mutual Defense Pact with Salvage System. Queen Rathell bid me to thank you for the opportunity to prove the Krift are worthy of consideration for such an endeavor.”
“Rick, we may have to pay Queen Rathell a visit when this is over,” Harmon decided.
“No need, my friend,” Mayrell said. “She is in Salvage System herself, guarding the gate in her dreadnaught, Changes Made. There are thirty of our largest Q-ships with her. She would not permit the system of a potential ally to be attacked again. As of right now, many of our drone technicians help to repair your Defense Fleet and the repair ship, Cube.”
* * *
Basher
Captain Rogers leaned back in his command chair and laughed out loud. When he finished, he reached up and wiped a tear out of the corner of his eye. Cameron, up on the main screen, was laughing with him on the bridge of his own ship, Sweet Pea.
Ralph could be heard offscreen yelling at Cameron, “I did not wet myself! The cup of coffee landed in my lap! It’s not funny…it burned me!”
Cameron tried to talk but kept breaking out in giggles. “He…he…he took his pants off right here in the bridge, got his foot stuck, and fell over, yelling and screaming. No one was flying the ship! It was crazy. Missiles going off all around, lasers, fighters zipping all over the place, and we were flying free through the formations!”
“I felt like I was on fire!” shouted Ralph “It’s not funny! There’s some places that don’t need to get burned.”
Captain Rogers burst out laughing again when Cameron said, “He flopped around like a caught fish. The ship rolled three times! Big Nick called us afterward and told me we cut in front of them and took two missiles to our starboard shields. He thanked me! It was crazy!”
“Stop, lad,” Captain Rogers said, laughing again. “Stop, I can’t breathe.”
Cameron was able to calm down, though he kept smiling. Captain Rogers watched him push his glasses back up his nose and finally settle back in his own command seat.
“Well, we didna get to board the dreadnaught,” Captain Rogers said sadly.
“Yeah,” Cameron agreed. “It blew all to pieces. Besides, we had to use the shocker missile on a battlecruiser. We had a perfect shot, so I couldn’t pass it up. The Diamond Squadron swooped in and cut it up.”
“’Tis too bad,” Captain Rogers said. “I was looking forward to a little hand-to-hand, maybe some horn-to-horn fighting, if you know what I mean.”
“The Bleeve don’t have horns,” Cameron said. “They got all those eyes, though. You could have poked a few out.”
“That reminds me,” Cameron continued. “Are you going down to the planet? We’re taking our mechs down. The commodore’s putting together a big force. We’re going to hit them in the flank.”
“Aye, lad,” Captain Rogers said, “and I’ll be leading a platoon of me finest.”
“Cool,” Cameron said. “You can catch a ride with us. We’re taking Sweet Pea down to the surface with the dropships and troop transports. I wish we had some missiles left to use in atmosphere. They say we’ll come in and skim the surface. It’ll be great. There’s some mountain ranges we get to weave through.”
* * *
Staging Area
Combined Salvage Forces
Nazrooth
Harmon sat back and listened as Colonel Arthok presented the plan. The key leadership had met earlier and made the hard decisions. Now it was time to let all the leaders of the various moving pieces know the timeline and answer any questions.
“We’ll place the Ground Forces’ artillery here and here.” Arthok indicated where on the huge screen. They were meeting in a large entertainment auditorium. The local city leadership had been more than happy to provide it.
Arthok continued, “The Bolts’ artillery will be positioned here. The guns in the combined force fresh out of training will be here to support the commodore. The Ground Forces will push through here, up this valley. There’s a lot of open ground, but I think our artillery will take their guns out before they have a chance to hurt us. Remember, their pieces are dug in and stationary. I intend for you to drop rounds on them for hours. Continue to fire and move. They’ll fire back, but in retaliation. We have a big enough stockpile now to wait them out.
“Their leadership is probably expecting a frontal and flank attack. What they don’t know is, we now have the capability to hit them on three sides. If they shift, they expose themselves. The Bolts will come in on the east side, Commander Tomeral and his combined forces will hit them from the west. I know their commander must have thought he was providing his anti-air batteries plenty of room to work by setting up here in this flat area, but we aren’t using air support at the outset. The forest on both sides of them will be their undoing. Besides, we have a plan for all their anti-air batteries.”
Questions were asked and answered by various junior leaders, and the meeting broke up. They would attack in two days to give the forces time to get into position. Afterward, Harmon walked over to the Bolts’ site.
As he got closer, he realized the tracked tanks Captain Brink was standing beside were huge. Much larger than the Withaloo tanks. Their armor angled up from their long front end in a way he’d never seen. As he got closer, he noticed the mottled paint scheme seemed reflective, yet not, in a strange way.
Captain Brink was talking to a large man and someone else the likes of which Harmon had never seen. He was over six feet tall, with four upper limbs. Similar to the Krift or a Smilp, he had an exoskeleton. Its coloring w
as a dark blue to nearly black. His face was lighter colored, with purple mandible protrusions. Harmon noticed a wicked-looking stinger on the end of a tail curled up near the being’s shoulder.
Harmon walked over, and Captain Brink introduced him. “Commodore Tomeral, this is KahCrit Skrelton and Sergeant Jonthon. Their outfit answered the All Call back home.”
Harmon held out his hand to the one closest to him. The sergeant reached out and shook it with a strong grip.
“Hello, sir,” Jonthon said in Earth Common. The accent was a little strange, but not much different than humans he’d met from other systems.
Harmon looked over at the individual he could only think of as a scorpion and reached out. KaCrit Skrelton shook it with one of his smaller arms, ending in a four-digit hand. He chittered, and the translation came out of a small box connected to the suspenders of his military gear. “I am pleased to meet you.”
Harmon glanced up at the tank closest to them. “So, you answered the All Call?” he asked the sergeant.
“We did,” answered Jonthon. “His decision,” he nodded over to his companion, “though I agreed with it. He’s in charge.”
Harmon turned to KahCrit Skrelton. “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t understand your rank structure, it’s…” Harmon trailed off waiting for an answer.
“I understand, sir,” Skrelton said. “It is equivalent to staff sergeant. At least that is the easiest way to describe it. I was promoted five times. I and five more of our company are Kitrail, a race belonging to an empire we can never go back to. Four human soldiers like Jonthon make up the rest of our outfit. They were originally from New Chicago, a world finally deemed unsuitable to colonize.”
“That sounds like a story to hear one day over a cold beer,” Harmon said with a grin. “Anyway, you have my thanks, and that of the entire Salvage System. What made you decide to come to Nazrooth and get involved with the ground warfare too?”
“Well, sir,” Jonthon interjected, “the Kitrail sorta stay isolated. I’ve been teaching Skrelton about the rest of the galaxy. Until we teamed up, he and his soldiers had no idea of the other gates, inhabited systems, thousands of races, or anything else we take for granted.”
“Incredible,” Nate said, looking over at Harmon in disbelief.
“What he does know, and me too…is tanks,” Jonthon continued, “and these two are some of the baddest tanks in this part of the galaxy.”
“The sergeant is correct,” Skrelton said. “My entire career has been as a tanker. We were deployed with the newest models. These two are all that remain. One of them we rebuilt using the parts of several others. We have other spare parts salvaged, as well, and stored on our ship. They are fusion plant-powered and weigh one hundred and twenty tons. The main gun is a large laser with barrel-cooling capabilities, allowing for rapid shots. The profile, armor, and paint is designed to resist laser beams.”
Harmon looked over at the tank and understood why the paint seemed different now.
Skrelton continued, “Kinetic rounds penetrate the armor like most normal tanks. With Jonthon’s help, I was able to use the Galaxy Network to study the Bleeve tanks; they have lasers as their main gun, though they are smaller than ours. I believe our tanks will shed most of their shots as a nuisance. We are here to destroy tanks…and get paid for it.”
“Yes!” Jonthon said. “We’re kind of broke. We pooled our credit to pay for gate passage to Salvage System. So…”
Harmon grinned. “I understand completely. It wasn’t that long ago I was short on credit, myself. Don’t worry about that. You’ll get paid a fair contract price, plus bonus.”
“Thank you, sir,” Skrelton said.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Harmon said to Nate. “I have a list of things to do. I need to talk to Staff Sergeant Rinek, find Gunny, prep my mech, and a ton of other things.” He glanced at the huge tanks and noticed several other Kitrail and some humans mounting crew-served lasers on the turrets. He grinned, shook his head, and turned to go.
As he was walking off, Harmon heard Nate say, “Let me introduce you to Lieutenant Algrite. He’s going to be glad to meet you, believe me. So, are you guys dead set on being mercenaries, or have you considered joining another military? Say…a specialty unit?” Harmon smiled to himself.
* * *
Specialty Platoon
Lieutenant Mayshire looked up at the Giant Mech. Leaning forward and resting on its closed fists, it was taller than her mech parked right beside it. Shining brightly with the daylight reflected off of them, there were five more like it, all with their hatches open.
“Sergeant Muraingo,” Mayshire said. “Glad to see they finished your mechs, and you could make it.”
“It is good to be here, ma’am,” the large Taylahh said. “We are ready to put our training to good use.”
“Wally didn’t have time to paint them like the rest?” Mayshire asked.
“No, ma’am,” Muraingo said. “He only put the unit crest on the shoulders. He said he did a little research, and it was the best way to help reflect some of the laser shots.”
“Can’t hurt,” Mayshire said. “It’s not like you can sneak up on anyone in them. I wish I had something to reflect shots off mine. They’ve been taking my mech’s legs out this whole war. I swear, it’s like they aim for the knees.”
“Did you notice the addition to the original plans for them?” Muraingo asked.
“What? Where?” Mayshire asked, looking at the war machine again.
“Here,” Muraingo said. He reached up and opened a small panel on the hip of the mech. Inside was a coiled cable. He pulled it out to reveal two sockets on the end of the foot-long cable.
“Charging connecters!” Mayshire exclaimed. “Outstanding!”
“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Muraingo. “Since the mech is powered by miniature fusion plants, the technicians decided to take advantage of it.”
“Does it make you nervous knowing they’re powered by fusion and not power cells?” Lieutenant Mayshire asked with a concerned look on her face.
“Not at all,” he answered. “Some tanks are fusion powered. They tell me it is fairly safe. If it is damaged, it shuts down quickly. It is hard to believe something that small can provide so much power.”
“Hey, don’t ask me how it all works!” Mayshire grinned. “I may be an officer, but I’m no technician. I just climb in and fight them; I leave the science of it to others.”
* * *
Salvage Fleet Combined Force
Major Audell looked up from his slate and saw exactly who he hoped to see. “Gunny! How the frost are you? Good to see you getting around these days.”
Gunny Harper reached out a hand. “Hey, sir,” Gunny said. “Yeah, I got a new pair of kicks. I can do everything I used to do, plus a little more.” He looked past the major at the rows and rows of portable shelters, and the Krift soldiers beyond them carrying gear out of transport shuttles. “What are we looking at?”
“Well, for starters, you’re the senior noncommissioned officer for the mech pilots. We scraped together thirty-two machines, including Cameron and his crew. You’ll be with the commodore and Big Nick.”
“Sounds good,” Gunny said.
“The sergeant major and I will lead two hundred and eight Marines in heavy battle armor,” he continued. “Soldier Queen Bethell will lead eight hundred Krift soldiers. Her mother is the Swarm queen.”
“Eight hundred!” Gunny exclaimed. “That’s impressive.”
“You figure each Q-ship has a platoon-sized element or so assigned to them,” Audell said. “That leaves plenty to assist the ones we left gathering rescue pods and survivors, and keeping an eye on them until the commodore decides what to do with them.”
“True,” Gunny said. “We’re still outnumbered, but that evens the odds quite a bit.”
“Yeah, we’re going to hit them on three sides,” Major Audell said, turning his slate so Gunny could see the map. “When we come through the forest, they’ll have alrea
dy shifted to defend against the other flank attack. We’ll be coming in behind them with over a thousand troops. They’ll never know what hit them. Besides, the colonel intends to drop so much steel on them through the night, it’ll seem we have the advantage.”
“They eat babies,” Gunny said. “As a Prithmar we know would say, they get what they deserve.”
* * *
Royal Palace
Bleeve
Queen Shamilorah rose up, towering over her intelligence specialist. “What do you mean you can’t reach anyone?”
“My Queen,” stammered the smaller Bleeve. “We cannot contact the admiral, the Reserve Fleet, or the Fleet you sent into Salvage System. There has been no contact. Nothing. We have no way of knowing what is happening anywhere.”
“When they finally make contact with us,” she said, “they better have a good reason for their silence, or I will have them dragged screaming before me, and I will have my answers. When I get my pincers on them, they will wish they never existed.”
“Yes, my Queen,” answered the cowering administrator.
“Did you get an answer back from the Ojarnaps? What did they say?”
Zikorah dipped his head even lower than it was. “The answer is no, my Queen. The answer came straight from their king. He said no, they will not invade any system. Their forces are for defense only. They have withdrawn their ambassador from our system.”
“I see,” Queen Shamilorah said, anger dripping from every word like poison. “Send that…king this message: His system is next.”
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