“What?”
Nathen’s eyes opened in a glare.
“I have to go,” he said, pushing away from the frame and striding into the EV suit maintenance antechamber. “There’s still time to stop this.”
“Stop? Stop what?”
Nathen’s fingers curled around the comm. unit. “The traitor.”
“The traitor? But how do you-”
“I can't explain,” Nathen said, breaking into a jog. “Communications are compromised. Just get everyone ready.”
“Ready for wh-”
Nathen shut off the comm. unit and tucked it away before dashing for the lift. There was still a chance. Still a chance to undo all that was going wrong. He just had to stop one person. One person he should have suspected from the beginning. Nathen picked up the pace and dashed, blood climbing to a boil again.
He had a council to attend.
And a captain to confront.
***
Phillip snapped out of his contemplative state by the mechanical blip announcing that the download was complete. For the first time in hours, he smiled.
“I have you now, my little pretty,” he cackled.
Phillip tapped rapidly away at the keyboard, and within seconds, a data plug containing the virus ejected from the console into Phillip’s waiting hand.
“Got it,” he said into the suit radio. “That takes care of the virus. Now all that’s left is the hacker program. Everything should be back to normal soon.”
No sooner had Phillip spoken than the screen went white.
“…or maybe not.”
Phillip used his free hand to type on the keyboard while he tucked the data plug with the virus into his pouch with his other hand.
“What’s this?” he asked himself, trying to return the computer to normal. The tech next to him remained silent, just watching as Phillip struggled to understand what had gone wrong.
“I said it, didn’t I?” Phillip sighed. “If something goes wrong, it’s going to go wrong…”
Suddenly, words began scrolling across the screen. Phillip froze what he was doing and scanned the lines. As the words formed their message, Phillip smirked.
“Well, this is interesting,” he remarked. “From the looks of it, it’s an enemy transmission. In Basic.”
The tech said nothing. Phillip might as well have been alone in the core.
He frowned and fidgeted with the keyboard, talking to himself. “Of course it’s in Basic. Our mole probably can’t speak their language.” Phillip looked up at the wide curve of the core and lifted a finger. “You hear that, Calico? I’m sticking up for you on this one!”
Phillip glanced down at the screen and squinted through his suit’s faceplate. He read the message over from the beginning as more and more words appeared. It didn’t take long for the feeling of exhaustion that weighed down Phillip’s body to dissipate. The technician felt a chill run through his nerves with every word he read. Finally, the transmission ended, and Phillip was left staring at the specter of a very terrifying situation in the making.
Transmission received.
Fleet Admiral authorized full assault order on Human controlled system: destination/Vetrus. Full force authorized.
Transit in process. Time regarding arrival: Sixteen tiks – thirty minutes by Human chrono.
Combat strength: Full/Total
Expected Resistance: Minimal/Zero
Insider is to prevent previously mentioned statistic from changing to ensure swift takeover.
In the face of resistance, termination of vital exterior modules to cripple target: Authorized.
Maximum casualties predicted.
Contact expected shortly.
Transmission - Terminated.
Phillip blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.
“We’re under attack…”
It took him a second, his mind still moving at half the breakneck speed that it had been working at for the last twenty-four hours. The tech next to him didn’t react, simply watching Phillip as if he hadn’t seen what was on the screen. Finally, Phillip snapped out of his disbelief and scrambled to take action.
“We’re under attack! I-I’ve got to warn Knight!”
Phillip let go off the keyboard and reached up to change radio channels so he could contact his superior. He fumbled for a second as the cumbersome armored EV suit scraped against the side of his helmet. Finally, Phillip managed to switch channels to the ESC frequency connected to his comm. unit.
“This is Daytana on the ESC frequency! Nathen, er, Knight… Commander! Anybody! I’ve just- ”
Phillip froze, stopping himself mid sentence. He slowly turned his head toward the floating tech at his side.
He was looking down the barrel of a Denchura pistol.
Phillip could just barely see the man’s grim expression through the glint of the visor, staring at Phillip intently. The radio snapped in Phillip’s ear.
“This is Knight. What’s the emergency?”
Phillip stared at the aggressor for another second, then glanced at the enemy transmission only he had read. Phillip looked back to the man with the gun, wondering if he could get a word or two out before he was shot dead. The gunman saw Phillip glance at the transmission and slowly shook his head from side to side, telling Phillip what not to do. Phillip was faced with a dilemma and from his point of view, there was no good option. Only a choice to be made, and it had to be made fast.
“I repeat, what is the situation Daytana?”
Phillip slowly reached up and touched the radio, switching back to the previous channel. The gunman smirked at Phillip, finally showing a reaction.
“Smart move,” the traitor said, gun never wavering. Phillip forced a nervous grin, trying to play it cool.
“Hey,” he said with a shrug. “Its like the saying goes. Live smart, or die young.”
The man in the space suit looked thoughtful.
“Well, by the time we’re done, one of those is definitely going to be true.”
The man laughed cruelly behind his gun as Phillip Norsehill turned back to the screen, staring at the flashing warning he would never have the chance to pass on.
Chapter 39
Nathen slammed a palm against the wall, seething in frustration. The lift was at the other end of the station. It would take too long to reach him. He was out of time to waste. Nathen snatched up his comm. unit and looked at the shield-shaped communicator in his hand. After a second, he placed his thumb on the emergency pager and held it there for three seconds. The comm. unit flashed eight times, rapidly. All across the station, the others were getting the Elite Stellar Commando’s call to arms, and a short, two-word message.
Game on.
The commander pulled a wireless earplug from the bottom slot of his comm. unit and stuck it in his right ear, securing the communicator and taking off down the hallway to the nearest chute. It wasn’t long before the call to arms was answered.
“This is Bayonet,” Helen’s voice came through, smoothly and seriously. “What’s the trouble, Boss?
The comm. blipped again in Nathen’s ear.
“Stand by,” Nathen ordered, tapping his ear. “Knight.”
“Aye,” Kyler Jeston’s voice rumbled. “We got us a gig now?”
“Sorry,” Trent’s voice piped in. “We were in the infirmary when the call came. What’s going on?”
“Switch to team channel,” Nathen said, so they could all hear. He tapped his ear again. “Alphas, sound off.”
“Bayonet, ready.”
“Buckshot, ready.”
“Sharps, ready.”
“Doc, ready.”
No more confirmations came.
“Where’s Fiend?”
“Unknown,” Helen responded. “No sign of Calico, either. They’re not responding to their comms. And I can’t reach Daytana.”
Nathen grunted as he pulled himself up with his seared hand. “Daytana’s not coming.”
Doc sounded
flustered. “Not coming? What’s wrong with-”
“Focus,” Nathen commanded, reaching the top of the ladder and kicking open the hatch. “We’re on a deadline. Buckshot. Sharps.”
“Sir.”
“Aye?”
“You two, you’re our heavy hitters. Break leg to Haven Alpha. Suit up, and arm yourselves for a fight. Get dangerous.”
“I love et when you talk dirty,” Kyler said, with a chuckle.
“Bayonet.”
“Knight.”
“You and Doc, take Orbit Angel’s communications room. I want you to send an SOS to every communication’s beacon in range.”
“Got it,” Helen said. “We expecting company?”
“Oh yeah,” Nathen said, ducking into the crawlspace. “The Yew are coming.”
***
The outer fringes of the Vetrus System flickered with distant starscapes: an inky pool of blackness speckled with flakes of light.
Suddenly a miniature maelstrom of hyperspacial energy ripped through space. The starline warped and dilated like ripples from a skipping stone. The void stretched and yawned like a portal of water until hyperluminal energy began to flash like lightning. Yew Alliance craft began popping into realspace, streaming hyperspacial energy as the rips closed behind them.
First to arrive were the Yew picket craft; Pyramid-class and Hex-class craft the size of frigates. The nimble, four-cornered Pyramid craft and the hammer-headed Hex craft quickly formed constellations—the Yew equivalent of battle formations. The pair of Human perimeter guard Stormbolt sub-frigates made a lurching charge across lightspace, bristling their torp bays at the intruders and locking onto targets. Before they were even finished, Diamondback-class destroyers started bursting from hyperspace, shredding through realspace as ribbons of superluminal power streamed off their gleaming bows. The Stormbolts quickly re-targeted the bigger threats, but were too slow. The Yew craft opened fire without mercy, slicing through the sub-frigates weak armor and detonating their payloads. The Human ships went down with almost no fight, vaporizing into dust. Confident there were no other sentries, the Yew craft had barely assembled their constellations before the starscape exploded in a massive flash.
Left in the wake of the hyperspace tear was an imposing Nightmare-class dreadcraft. The ship itself was dwarfed beneath its imposing mantle, which had a diameter large enough to conceal at least two Diamondback destroyers in its profile. Like a massive spoked wheel rimmed with spikes, the Yew dreadcraft was nearly as big as the station it was assaulting. The Pyramids, Hexs, and Diamondbacks all flocked to the dreadcraft’s flanks like loyal vassals, spreading the constellation around the largest warcraft, spreading its mantle of terror even wider. As the Yew strike fleet moved slowly in-system, one final, explosive flash issued from hyperspace.
The Citadel-class war carrier was a prideful vessel. The Celestial Wind was not nearly as big as its flagship dreadcraft, the Saperiah, but it was every bit as essential to the battle group. The Celestial Wind, in addition to housing the battle group’s impressive strike craft squadrons, was the command hub for all the other craft. And it was from here, buried deep inside the bridge, that Second Admiral Merthal kept mental track of every ship in his line of sight.
He’d orchestrated the entire assault over and over in his mind, preparing for every possibility and every setback. He’d aimed for perfection, even in as unpredictable a situation as this. Merthal would have preferred to use stealth craft to slip in and cripple the station’s defenses before putting his entire force at risk, but he had not been able to obtain permission to transfer any to his quadrant before beginning the assault.
With no infiltration craft or extreme-range weaponry, Merthal kept a wary glare on the Human station’s biggest threats: the orbital MARCH platforms. The Magnetic Accelerated Recoil Cannon Hellbore platforms were positioned around the Orbit Angel like guard towers. While the station itself was little more than laughably armed compared to the nearly equal-sized Saperiah, the MARCH platforms were a formidable deterrent, even to the Yew Alliance’s superior forces. However, he had been personally assured by the insider that there would be no heavy retaliation, no call for help, and no battle. But Merthal was taking no chances. Every ship was at full combat alert status, and the Celestial Wind was emitting some very heavy jamming signals.
He didn’t have much trust with Humans. Especially ones who were willing to betray their own race.
“Tell our destroyers to widen their distance from each other,” he commanded from his perch. “I don’t want them forming an even larger target for any defenses the insider failed to disarm.”
Merthal clicked his beak together with impatience as he watched the old, graceless Human space station slowly orbiting around the system’s planet, hundreds of thousands of miles away. The carrier’s optical magnification made it all easy to see. The massive space shield lay out like a shining welcome mat, just inviting attack with over a hundred ships at dock. At any second he expected the station to unload with everything it had, but it of course did not. The image, traveling at the speed of light, was nearly ten minutes old. At this distance, if the Human’s superluminal sensors had detected the arriving Alliance fleet, then Merthal would not see the ships move to intercept him for at least that long. The Celestial Wind’s own superluminal sensors detected no increase in engine readings. Still, he made a mental note to come out of lightspace a short distance away from the shield and make the approach in realspace, in the event that the Human’s were already rallied and waiting.
“All is going well. No contacts in our proximity sweep,” cawed Danter, Merthal’s sub-admiral assistant. “Minimal resistance. Perhaps our insider wasn’t as full of hot air as we’d feared.”
Merthal ruffled his leathery wings in an attempt to relax. “That is a judgement I will reserve for after we have achieved victory.”
Danter locked his claws in front of him, thoughtfully. “I find waiting to be the most difficult act of war.”
Merthal sighed and clicked his beak, half listening. “Yes. It’s almost painful.” The admiral locked his reptilian-avian eyes on his claws and scraped them together like sharpened steel. “But then, I find the most apt countermeasure to waiting… is action.”
Second Admiral Merthal touched a claw to his controls, and the image of the Human station flickered and morphed into an image of the Celestial Wind’s front hangar. As if waiting, the front and foremost persona in the frame was Master General Scizzor Synks. The General had donned his majestic red battle armor, with black sash tied around his waist and a curved J’fin war sword at his side. His fierce-faced helmet was tucked under his arm, next to a holstered cell blaster. He had a wrist rifle on his forearm, and a Xazzler pulse thrower propped on his shoulder. Disc-shaped concussion grenades hung from his belts like ornaments. Merthal eyed the image of the general with astute regard.
“Such an arsenal,” Merthal said, not sure if he was speaking with mockery or admiration. “Are you sure there’s even going to be a fight?”
Scizzor took a step closer to the screen, leaning on his helmet, smugly.
“My favored admiral,” Scizzor said. “One must never stoop to an enemy’s level. If the Humans do not want to fight, then I will set the example.”
Merthal scowled, grinding his beak. “I remind you, General. Our goal here is to capture, not destroy. Do not let your bloodlust guide you. Or perhaps you question my leadership.”
Scizzor tilted his head at the screen as though inspecting an insect.
“Why? Because I am a Master General and therefor outrank you on the ladder of achievement?” Scizzor smirked. “The thought would never cross my mind.”
Merthal felt his back bristle, and had to force himself not to respond immediately.
“Achievements do not dictate victory... General.”
“And that, Admiral, is where you and I differ. You think victory is achieved through thoughts. But thoughts do not bleed.”
“And neither does my heart for you
r antics,” Merthal countered, coldly. “Just remember who high command deemed worthier of commanding this attack, and follow your orders. Are your troops prepared for the jump to combat?”
Scizzor flashed a grin, showing no teeth. “Boarding teams are standing by. Our forces are ready for deployment and occupation.”
“Fine,” Merthal said, already wearying of the General. “Once the boarding craft have secured their foothold, the Celestial Wind will dock on the lower scaffold and we will deploy from there.”
Scizzor frowned. “Would it not be wiser to deploy our forces on the upper scaffold? Where the station’s bridge is?”
Merthal gave a steely glare. “The bridge is not our concern. It will be dealt with before we arrive, I assure you.”
“Of course,” Scizzor said with a bow, donning his helmet. When he stood, his face was a scarred mask of tribal Vorch markings. “We are ready.”
“And General Synks. Do show some restraint. It would be a shame if we came back without you because of overconfidence.”
Scizzor turned his head back. “Admiral. To find something worthy of killing me would be a great privilege.”
Merthal nodded, understanding the Vorch phrase as he shut down the feed.
“Privileged is Death.”
The image flickered to the outside, just as the first craft accelerated into lightspace.
***
Admiral Robert Kiles wasn’t all that pleased, to say the least.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered, watching the computer’s readouts as several more Yew craft appeared out of the Haitus wormhole. “Bloody, stinking hell. Are they still coming? What are we looking at?”
One of the three superluminal sensor operators recited them under his breath before answering.
“Okay, it looks like they’ve finally stopped. At this extreme range I can’t be completely sure, but I’m picking up ship masses in the frigate and destroyer range. And something big. Real big.”
“Like what? Cruiser?”
Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1) Page 47