Nathen pulled up right at the same time Phillip did in his tank. They both rotated their vehicles around so their rear hatches were facing the ramps leading up to the platforms. Nathen dropped the landing gear and killed the power before the tank could die on its own.
“Let's go,” Nathen said, detaching himself from the pilot's seat. “Everyone, keep your guns up in case anyone caught on to us.”
“Someone did,” Trent said, swiveling in the turret. “I got multiple vehicles, closing on our platform.”
“Hold them off,” Nathen ordered, rushing to the back and snatching up the Pennington. “Buckshot, hold the perimeter!”
“Rogah!” snapped Kyler, popping open the back hatch like it was the lid on a tin of tuna.
Nathen tapped Calico on the shoulder. “Hold here, and follow Sharps out.”
Calico swallowed and picked up her Casper. “Yes, sir.”
Nathen turned and emerged into the light. Through the sailing pillars of smoke, Nathen found half the sky dominated by the looming host planet. Through the armor's helmet, Nathen detected the pungent odor of smoldering fires and ozone. It was impossible to know, but Nathen felt as though the air was taking on a different quality. The atmosphere was cycling. In an hour or so, his lungs would begin to tingle. After that, he'd start to become deprived, even with his oxy-collar, and he would eventually pass out and die. He didn't intend to die here today.
Nathen turned in time to see two gun chariots swing up and swerve toward their platform. The two Stelkans in the chariots caught sight of the strangely-armored Humans and steered to engage. One opened fire with a pair of fixed Z-Tech machine blasters. The other ate the business end of Kyler's TAC cannon. Kyler lifted the heavy-barreled cannon and ejected the drained battery as the pilotless chariot crashed into a platform's pylon. The other slapped petty fire against the Genesis armor as the blue giant slunk back behind the tank, just as Trent's cannon blasted the ground under the chariot, sending it into a nose-first front flip, throwing its Stelkan pilot clear.
Nathen marched up the ramp to the platform as Phillip's tank opened up. A second later the technician popped out the back and rushed to catch up with his white-armored commander.
“This prom's officially been crashed,” Phillip said swinging his BOAR into his arms and matching Nathen's pace. “Let's get out of here before they realized I spiked the punch... with nitro.”
Nathen reached the top of the platform and was immediately spotted by two Golos, wearing engineer uniforms. They pointed at Nathen and bellowed, bracing themselves to charge. Nathen hefted the Pennington onto his shoulder and just pointed it at them. The Golos froze, having sudden second thoughts. Phillip lazily pointed his BOAR at them from his hip, but didn't fire either. One Golo looked at the other, and Nathen saw the wheels turning in their heads as they stared down the tube of Nathen's rocket launcher. After a few seconds, the brutes clasped their own forearms and slowly backed away in a submissive posture. When they reached the end of the platform, they turned and jumped down, hurrying away as fast as their thick legs would carry them. Nathen lowered the Pennington and handed it over to Phillip.
“Hold the platform,” he said, charging the Vorch wrist rifle. “I'll just be a minute.”
“Right,” Phillip said, somehow holding the Pennington in one arm and his BOAR in the other.
Nathen raced up the boarding tube into the Kastar's small assault team chamber. There was a single Flog there, back turned to the entryway, frantically digging through an ammo locker and scattering its contents across the floor. It never noticed when Nathen walked up behind it and knelt down. One snap later, the Flog was laid out on the floor, neck broken. Breaking a Flog's neck was difficult, due to their loose scruff and natural distinction to be as easily horizontally aligned with their spine as with vertical. But Nathen had practice. He left the body where it was and marched past the rounded corridors straight into the egg-shaped cockpit. The clear, polarized cockpit bubble had a perfect all-around view of its surroundings, including up and down.
The single Stelkan waiting inside was preoccupied with his radio, warbling and squawking away until it felt the cold barrel of Nathen's wrist rifle between its wings. The Stelkan's head snapped around, fixing Nathen with a gaze sharp enough to cut steel. Nathen lifted his right hand and made a cutting motion across his neck with two fingers. The Stelkan looked at Nathen, looked at the wrist rifle pressed into his back, then back to Nathen. After a second's hesitation, the Stelkan pulled the radio off its beak and dropped it on the floor, raising its claws in surrender. It started to pull its wings into its back, but Nathen jammed his fist in harder, stopping the alien. As long as the Stelkan's wings were partway out, it had less strength, and it couldn't turn around. Nathen, once content the Stelkan was subdued, touched the side of his helmet.
“Bayonet,” he said, keeping one eye on the Stelkan's shifty eye. “Get to the corvette, now.”
“Got it, Boss,” came the smooth response. Nathen refocused the comm to the whole team.
“Let's pack it up, Alphas.”
A few short seconds later, Helen Platner appeared in the entryway, Coyote in hand. Nathen grabbed a fistful of the Stelkan's uniform, twisting it uncomfortably so his wrist rifle was still pressed between its wings. He roughly wrenched the alien from the pilot's seat and hauled it around until he had it face down on the corridor floor, just outside the cockpit.
“Guard the prisoner,” he asked more than ordered.
“Sure,” Helen said, agreeing to the request. Nathen let go and backed away. Helen moved in as the Stelkan started to rise and planted her boot against its back, flattening the reptilian avian and making sure it was very aware of the Coyote muzzle in its ear. Confident the alien was secure, Nathen walked back outside.
The air was just swarming with bolts and ashes now. Most were aimed upwards, though a few had discovered the Humans and were trying to stop them. Every ten seconds or so, there would be a black flash overhead and a scream of blasts as the Hybrids strafed the port with their CP cannons. Nathen reached the ramp and looked down. Trent had abandoned his turret and was plucking off stragglers with a cell blaster, while Calico crouched behind him, anxiously waiting to move on. Kyler was on the other side of the tank, spouting white-hot energy from his TAC cannon at the enemy. Phillip was down on his stomach at the edge of the ramp, bayonet bipod deployed and rattling bursts of glowing blue kinetic darts down on the enemy. Doc and Jonathan were nowhere to be seen.
“Doc,” Nathen practically shouted into his comm. “Fiend! Report!”
“We're still in the tank,” Doc came back, with a gulping gasp. “Mobilizing. Stand by.”
Nathen bit back a swear as a concussion grenade landed at the base of the ramp and exploded, knocking Trent stumbling back into Calico.
“We need to leave!”
“I know!” Doc shot back. “Come on, come on! I don't care if your back's broken, move!”
A second later, Doc appeared in the hatch, a weak and withered Jonathan leaning on his shoulder.
The two ESCs were immediately knocked down as a concussion grenade exploded at their feet.
“It’s getting too hot down here!” Trent shouted, desperately locking a power ring into his overheating Cell Blaster. “There's too many coming too fast!”
Nathen didn't bother with a plan. He already knew what he was going to do.
“Sharps, Speaker, fall back to the Kastar!” Nathen ordered, snatching up the Pennington. “Buckshot, with me! Daytana, give me full suppressive fire!”
“I'm on my last mag!” Phillip shouted, dumped a hot magazine out and batting it aside for a new one.
Nathen got a three stride running start and then skidded onto his side, sliding sideways down the ramp and coming back to his feet halfway down. Kyler moved forward at the same time Trent and Calico moved back. Not a second too soon. The next instant the tank the three ESCs had been using for cover exploded in a shower of white ion fire. Nathen hit the bottom of the ramp, took a kn
ee, and sent a rocket screaming into the base of the mobile cannon the enemy had brought to bear. The cannon snapped and burned with the brilliance of a star as its operators died.
Nathen cycled the Pennington and fired again.
The rocket smashed into a parked chariot which was flooding the bottom of the ramp with bolts. The rocket struck, and the chariot smashed back with a shatter of Omnium.
Nathen fired the launcher again.
And again.
He emptied every rocket at the enemy until the Pennington gasped for air, then he dumped the launcher.
A TAC cannon blast hammered him, dead in the chest.
Nathen staggered back, but managed to stay on his feet as lesser blaster bolts licked at him on all sides. He registered pain as superheated energy sank into the dermasuit all over, biting and stinging. The enemies that survived the rocket barrage began focusing their fire on the white-armored Human, beating him down with everything they had. Nathen felt the suit puckering as it sucked up damage like a sponge, desperately trying to save its wearer.
Then, against the onslaught, Nathen stood and fought back.
He lifted his arm with the wrist rifle and the phantom sights snapped into alignment. He took the nearest Vorch clear off its feet with a nasty headshot, then wiped out the Flogs that had been following behind him. A Golo caught three cannon blasts in the chest and one in the stomach from Kyler's direction. Nathen snapped from target to target, Genesis suit sizzling. His chest alloy showed little more than a slight indentation where the TAC cannon had hit, and a second later, that faded away.
To Nathen's left, Doc shakily got to his feet, while Jonathan could barely manage to lift himself on his elbows. Nathen tirelessly worked a loaded crown into his wrist rifle before slapping Kyler on the arm.
“Get Fiend,” he said.
Kyler bounded over to help Doc get their stealth expert back on his feet. That's when Phillip opened up with his last magazine. A hailstorm of blue kinetic darts ripped through the gathering enemy like wet paper. The survivors wisely took cover, amazed and demoralized at their seemingly impervious enemy. Only then did Nathen allow a groan of pain to escape his lips as he slowly back stepped toward the ramp, holding the wrist rifle out in front of him like a shield. On his left, Kyler sank down and quickly but carefully picked up the battered stealthist in his arms, carrying him toward the waiting corvette.
“Ain't this sweet, darlin'?” Kyler said, chuckling at Jonathan's expense. “Just like when we first met each othah at probation court, eh?”
Jonathan muttered something incomprehensible through the muggy painkillers.
“I love you too, A-hole,” Kyler laughed, carrying the stealthist up the ramp.
Doc limped along beside the giant, looking back occasionally to make sure they weren't being followed. Nathen brought up the rear, scuttling sideways up the ramp, keeping one arm trained downrange. A few blaster bolts came at them with a sizzle-SNAP, but it was all fired blindly. They'd taken the fight out of this lot. The sound of the saucer-like Kastar's engines powering on was a welcome melody to the scream of battle. Finally, at the top of the ramp, Nathen turned and joined the others in the corvette.
The commander shed the wrist rifle off his arm just inside the assault team chamber, dumping the alien weapon on the ground at Calico's feet with a light clang. Kyler was helping Doc get Jonathan strapped down for the journey. Trent had their Stelkan captive secured, pistol against the back of its head, wings bound. At the sight of his commander, Trent pushed the muzzle of his Wolfhound harder into the alien's head, but Nathen waved him off.
“He comes with,” Nathen ordered. “I have some questions.”
Trent looked confused, but complied, putting his pistol away and binding the Stelkan's arms behind its back; making its wings slightly more cramped.
Nathen dropped into the back-to-back seat behind Helen, who was already strapped in and quickly lifting the corvette off its skids.
“Get us out of here,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in the seat which was made for a Stelkan.
Helen nodded, concentrating. A few TAC cannon rounds smacked into the underside of the corvette, but barely dented the metal. The corvette rose straight up into the air, quickly accelerating beyond small arms fire. Nathen watched the three-sided spire fly past straight down as the C-saucer gained altitude. In seconds, the black obelisk was below them. Nathen felt almost no acceleration as the corvette's artificial gravity kept them comfortably neutral. Even as the corvette tilted back on end and pointed itself toward the stars, Nathen felt no loss of balance. Whatever small feeling of pressure he would have endured when the corvette blasted forward was absorbed and nullified by the Genesis armor.
The Kaster climbed for the stars like an Olympian discus. No ground fire from automated defenses targeted them, registering the craft as one of their own. But through the craft's 360 proximity sensors and some angry squawks from the radio, Nathen deduced they were being intercepted by enemy fighters, who were wise to the ruse. Nathen switched on his blue and green interface, giving him an instant view behind their craft. Helen kept the craft climbing as Nathen locked the signatures of their pursuers. The arrow-headed Yew Interceptors needled straight after them like a school of Mako sharks hunting a sea turtle. The much faster starfighters would catch the slower Kastar in seconds.
“How many are there?” Helen asked.
“Five,” Nathen said, watching them close distance.
Several enemy fighters exploded as a pair of black flashes tore through their formation.
“Two,” Nathen corrected.
“We got your six, Alphas!” piped in Red over the comm. “You blaze the trail, we'll beat the bush!”
“Roger that,” Helen said, curving the Kastar elegantly up toward the split skyline of black space and looming gas giant. “Stay on our tail, Hybrids.”
The remaining two Interceptors started to break off to engage the frightfully deadly Hybrids, but didn't get far. Nathen powered on the Kastar's powerful rear flash cannon and shredded the two starfighters before they could break their pursuit.
It took several minutes for the Kastar to break orbit. Until the atmosphere lessened, friction was collaring the craft's speed. The Human Hybrids nestled in behind their escort craft on parallel courses, occasionally weaving back and forth to sweep for any pursuers. There weren't any. Nathen amplified the rear view and watched as the Yew starport faded into the ground, black spire now nothing more than a dot. A few kilometers to the South, he could see the Insectoids burying themselves and their gear into their new hole at the crater, already erecting their own triple antennae. There were signs of a heavy strike force moving down the reef road toward the spaceport, already on the next offensive. Any thought that the Yew would hold against their collapsed defense line vanished, and Nathen powered down the screen.
“Ten seconds to orbit,” Helen announced.
Nathen focused. They still had to find Haven Alpha and get out of the sys-
“By the Sun!”
Nathen twisted in his seat and shot to his feet in a second. Helen was gripping her controls tightly as her faceless helmet stared out the transparent cockpit, right into the bow of the Yew destroyer.
The huge warcraft was idling in space, silver and gray, blocking their exit route. Several huge dome cannons sat near the back, connected directly to the engines for maximum power. Point defense blasters and slightly heavier flash cannons gave it a wide variety of death to choose from. At nearly three times the size of Haven Alpha, the destroyer was a proud, powerful object of war.
And it was on fire.
Both Nathen and Helen were speechless for a moment as the powerful destroyer rolled first toward them... then past them. And still, it burned. The hull was split like an open wound. The hellish glow of red plasma pocked the side of the destroyer's hull like blistery napalm as it reduced shock armor to simmering jelly. The black space was aflame, inferno spewing from every vent and airlock as the captain desperately attempted t
o suffocate deck fires.
The Kastar proximity detector screamed, just as a claw formation of War Hive Stingers catapulted by, slamming a fresh wave of plasma divebombs into the destroyer's side. The plasma erupted like miniature volcanoes, glimmering against the warcraft's ravaged hull. One torpedo detonated inside the engine module. Then another explosion went off. The chain reaction had begun.
“Spit!” Helen shouted, slamming the Kastar into overdrive. “Hang on everyone!”
Nathen clung to the back of the pilot's seat as the corvette rocketed into motion. Just a stone's throw away, hull panels blasted open as internal explosions continued to rack the destroyer from the inside. The concussion waves buffeted the corvette as it tried to overtake the massive ship before it blew. Several startled yells indicated Nikolai and Leonard had broken off to reach minimum safe distance. Helen guided the stolen corvette straight through the barrage of jetsam and life pods, then they shot clear of the hulk and broke the last grip of gravity off their craft. The second they were past the flaming hulk, they saw what awaited them.
The orbit directly over the starport was a swarming maelstrom of bloody brawling. The Alliance Fleet was brutally engaged in a savage slug match with the formerly distant and idle War Hive Armada. Yew formations were desperately trying to co-ordinate and cope with the Insectoid's much more aggressive and organized full-power assault. Yew Interceptors weaved and hunted through the larger ships, picking off War Hive bombers with infamous lethality, while Insectoid Stingers harassed the largest ships they could find with divebombs, trying to overwhelm their defense grids so the capitol ships could throw the killing blow.
With the crater crippled, the orbital grid down and the main starport in disarray, the Yew had lost their security. And the War Hive had pounced, sensing the weakness. Now the advanced, smaller orbital fleet found themselves fighting a losing battle against a larger foe. Only their Grade-A ships gave them any hope at all.
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 31