“We won’t have shields much longer, but we should be able to outrun damn near anything the Gorvians have,” Arion commented as he came out from under the shroud.
The carrier grew before them and Blazer glanced down at their dwindling fuel gauge. The mental math told him that there was no way their retro thrusters would be able to slow them down in time. He would have to do a flip and burn; even then it would be close.
A plaser round tore through their starboard wing; Blazer fought for control. The fighter that fired it was well behind them, but his almost straight-line course had made them an easy target. Cursing his mistake, he altered their vector towards one of the other landing bays, and glanced out at the damage. Nothing remained past their blistered and burnt squadron logo, the dead eye socket of the screaming Lodran skull staring back at him in accusation. “Frag me!”
“Just get us down,” Arion hollered. “I’m saving as much fuel as I can.”
“Copy that,” Blazer snapped, flipping the fighter about. The carrier behind them, he fired his engines, slowing their approach to something manageable before the engines cut out. “What happened?”
“Main fuel line’s ruptured,” Arion replied. “I can’t get it back. Secondary pumps are offline. We’re going to hit, hard.”
Blazer braced for impact and looked at the approaching Gorvian ships. As if possessed of a single mind, they drove on towards them. The flashes of plaser cannons raced past his fighter. The fighter jerked as the carrier’s grappler beams took hold, but their momentum was too much and the fighter twisted about, slipping towards the deck. Blazer fought his controls, the nav marker for the Planet Slicer in the distance illuminating. He tore his eyes away from it; caught a glimpse of one of the coffin shaped prison transports bearing down on them.
The fighter rocked as it slammed into the edge of the hull of the carrier between two of the landing decks. The fighter spun about under the impact and Blazer found himself pinned to his seat as the lower hangar hove into view. Before he could react, they slammed into the deck and rebounded further into the ship. Pain radiated up Blazer’s left leg, and looking down he saw that the side of the cockpit had collapsed under the impact. Their dorsal tails dug into the ceiling. Their momentum carried them through several structural members in the open framework before the fighter jerked to a halt.
Blazer gasped for air, his whole body screaming in pain. Emergency crews unstrapped and flung themselves towards his fighter. His vision clouded, he spotted them spray his fighter with flame retardant foam as they approached, maneuvering belts keeping them on course. Foam covered the rear of the canopy as Blazer found his hands and reached for the emergency canopy release. He pulled the handle and the canopy shot free across the null-gravity deck.
Deckhands were on them a moment later; pulled Blazer and Arion from the wrecked craft. Blazer didn’t fight them as he stared with his own single-minded intensity at the prison transports in the distance. We'll come back for you, he thought as the carrier entered hyperspace; the gravitational lensing distorting the ship out of view before he lost consciousness.
UCSB Date 1003.231
Trauma Ward 1, UCSBS Mercy, Veglid System
The crew of the UCSBS Xale couldn’t get Blazer and Arion off their ship fast enough after the retreat into the Veglid system. The medical staff had even rushed through setting Blazer’s leg in a flimsy splint before putting him and Arion on a shuttle back to the Mercy. Blazer couldn’t really blame them; he’d wrecked their flight deck during his crash landing. He tried to never let it show that they’d never even thanked the Mercy or its escorts for saving them.
The pain in Blazer’s left leg spiked as Arion pushed his degrav stretcher into the trauma ward. The collapsing cockpit structure had broken the bones in several places. The deck crew hadn’t been gentle in extracting him from the cockpit either, exacerbating the wound. Arion had escaped almost unscathed; his self-healer ability had closed his wounds while aboard the Xale.
The trauma ward was busier than Blazer had ever seen it, injured soldiers taking every available bed. Arion parked Blazer along the wall with the other minor injuries, others throughout the ward crying out in pain. Spacers with plasma burns were everywhere he looked, respirators and blood gas infusers on almost all of them. Blazer almost forgot his own wounds as an orderly assisted one soldier back into her bed. The spacer had only one arm, the tattered remains of her uniform sleeve evidence of where a plasma fountain burned it off. Half her face remained covered by bandages, and by the shape of it, a good chunk of her skull had gone.
Arion looked around for a moment at the frantic medical staff. “I’m going to see if I can find Marda.”
“Don’t bother,” Marda replied all but out of breath with a tray full of vials. She set the tray down next to Blazer, the ampoules of medicine and spray injectors rattling. The fatigue in her eyes was evident. Blazer doubted she’d slept since their launch early the previous cycle. Blazer sat up to greet her, assuming she’d be happy to see him alive. Instead he received a slap across the face that threatened to throw him from the stretcher. “Don’t you ever do that again!”
Blazer rubbed his reddening cheek. “What was that for?”
“For getting separated and almost getting yourself killed. You freaking idiot!” The anger in her face melted away. Tears welled up in her eyes before she leaned in to embrace her husband. “I should report you for acting so stupid. I feared that something had happened to you. Never let yourself get separated like that again. You get me?”
Blazer nodded and broached a smile. “Word of honor. I swear. Now how bad are things here?” he asked, nodding towards the trauma ward.
“Bad,” she replied and motioned to Mikle as he rushed equipment around. “I need all of you on feet and helping out. Arion,” she said turning to the big man. “I need you go to Doctor Enlig. He has patients putting up a fight and will need you. You can’t miss him. He’s the Otlian with three arms,” she explained pointing out the injured doctor across the bay. The stump of his upper right arm flexed as he held down a patient, a bio regenerator cup rebuilding his lost limb.
Arion nodded and ran off without another word as Marda looked down at Blazer’s leg. “I’ll rip those idiots on the Xale a new one for this. They couldn’t even spare a single speed heal cast? I’ll be right back,” she said and rushed off with her tray.
Blazer waited for several pulses with the other injured soldiers, the man next to him looking desperate for conversation. Before he could say anything however Tadeh Qudas stepped up. “About time you got here.”
Blazer tried to sit up but a jolt of pain stopped his efforts. He returned a half-hearted salute instead. “Commander.”
“I just received word from the Xale’s wing commander. He’s not happy about what you did to his landing bay.”
“Not much I could do about that. Will we get our bird back at least?”
“What’s left of it, yes.”
Blazer didn’t care for the sound of that. As beaten and broken as his fighter was, it had saved their lives and had more than proven its reliability. Before Blazer could say more Marda ran up with a speed heal cast under her arm. “Excuse me sir. He’s my patient now. You can have him when I’m done.”
“From what I understand, he has more important intel to share first.”
Blazer grimaced as Marda cut away his splint and maneuvered his leg into the plasteen sheath. “Arion detected a number of Gorvian ships retrieving our ejected crews, or at least their beacons,” Blazer reported. Marda was none too gentle, her normal bedside manner lost. “They already set it,” he snapped.
“And did a shit job of it,” she explained. “Don’t worry. The nanos will get you all set,” she continued and gave him an injection of medical nanobots. “How many beacons did the Gorvians pick up?”
Blazer decided it best not to tell her that he’d set most of the breaks himself while he’d waited outside the Xale’s med bay. “I’m not sure how many they picked up. Arion cou
ld tell you more. But they were ferrying them to these big Gorvian cruisers. I think they might be some kind of prison transports,” he continued, lowering his voice so as not to alert the whole ward. “Tadeh Qudas, the big ones, they were coffin-shaped.”
Tadeh Qudas stood upright at that, understanding the implication. “Like the ones in the old holos?”
Blazer nodded. “The very same.”
Marda snapped the speed heal cast shut a moment later and turned to Tadeh Qudas. “I remember the stories from history class about those prison ships. I think I’d rather die than get captured and sent aboard one.”
Blazer understood that. Though the last conflict with the Gorvian had been short, the brutality of how the Gorvians would treat their prisoners made anything Blazer had seen before pale by comparison. “Sir. I want to hit one of those ships. We can’t leave our people to that fate.”
Both remained silent for a moment; Marda fixing him with an unbelieving stare before Tadeh Qudas replied. “It won’t be easy. Finding them will be top priority once the fleet is able again. They’ll keep those ships moving. What about the smaller ones? Did they all head to the prison ships?”
“There or the Planet Slicer itself from what Arion said.”
Tadeh Qudas made to turn towards the door then stopped. “I’m going to get back your data recorders and see if I can get the Xale’s log as well. We need to get that data before intel sequesters it. Que-Dee should be able to ascertain something from it.” Tadeh Qudas then turned to Marda. “What’s his condition?”
“Stubborn and cocky,” she replied, setting the panel on the speed heal cast. “But he’ll be mobile here in a hect or less. Should have his leg fully healed in a couple of cycles. I’ll put him to work here as soon as I can.”
Tadeh Qudas nodded. “Understood. Make him useful. Que-Dee and I will focus on getting your data recorder. Was Arion able to get a clean scan of those ships?”
Blazer just shrugged and Tadeh Qudas hurried out of the ward.
UCSB Date 1003.242
Briefing Room 12, UCSBSB-162, Veglid System
Marda loved Cathedral stations. They invoked a sense of awe, wonderment and peace with their graceful curving buttresses and sleek craftsman lines. She’d been born on such a station and had visited most of them during her childhood; her father’s position in the diplomatic corps had taken him across the galaxy. This close to Gorvian space however, with the battered fleet filling its many docking ports or awaiting repair, those lines inspired menace and dread. Built ten annura after the end of the first Gorvian conflict, Cathedral-5 took on a dark gothic appearance as it eclipsed the local star. The captured hyperspace bubble at the heart of the ring station made the inner towers cast foreboding shadows over the numerous observation bubbles, plunging them into darkness.
In the antechamber outside the admiral’s briefing room in one of the high buttressed arches, Marda stared out the windows at the fleet. She’d never seen so many battered ships before, many of which looked destined for the scrapyards. The suit lights of thousands of Fershing starship mechanics scurried about the more damaged hulls, dismantling the craft. She liked the big aquatic reptiles, with their childlike eyes and intense curiosity. It had always amazed her how innocent they seemed, despite their fearsome claws and teeth. They were hard to hold a conversation with though. Any passing ship would attract their attention, almost like a toddler with a new toy. When they were on task however, they were the best at what they did, being able to rebuild almost any ship from scrap.
“The admiral will see you now,” an Otlian officer called and the door to the admiral’s office cycled open.
Marda made her way over to Blazer and helped him to his feet. His speed heal cast wasn’t performing up to spec and his leg was taking longer to heal. The damage had extended beyond the bone and into some of the connective tissue. If she ever met the medic who’d set the bones so poorly and just passed him off like they had she’d make them regret it.
The opulence of the conference room shocked Marda. She’d been in such rooms before, but they’d always been so businesslike and formal. This one looked as if it had been plucked out of a palace’s grand ballroom. The table dominating the room looked hand-carved, with filigreed images emblazoned across it. Then there were the chairs, each looking fit for royalty. The crushed velvet pads looked more inviting than Marda’s bed was; she hadn’t seen much of that since the retreat from the Nashig system. She wondered if she’d be able to stay awake after her long cycles in the trauma ward once she’d sat down.
Blazer made his way straight to the admiral; his uniform, like everyone else's, dingy from far too much time on their feet and too little time attending to themselves. “Squad Leader O-15 Schan Vaughnt, and the Blade Force, reporting as ordered Admiral,” he called issuing an arm across the chest salute, fatigue dripping off every syllable.
The admiral mirrored Blazer’s salute and motioned towards the nearest chair. “Have a seat squad leader.”
Blazer eased himself into the seat; the rest of the team sat as well. Marda felt the seat envelop her and the fatigue of the past decle came rushing in. If the admiral hadn’t begun speaking she would have fallen asleep on the spot.
“As you should be aware, all of our ships took a significant beating in the last engagement with the Gorvians. It’s obvious that we cannot take them in a straight fight; despite how we managed to disable them.”
Chris held up a hand until the admiral turned her nose-less face to her. “Admiral. I still don’t get how they managed to do that, disable the Planet Slicer that is.”
“That’s a red level security matter, Officer Anit.”
Everyone, even Blazer chuckled at that. Exhaustion dispelled any reserve they might have had.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, rearing up onto her hind legs.
Blazer just looked to Bichard in response, his antennae almost drooped to the tabletop. He stood a moment later, looking no surer of his footing than any of them. “Admiral,” he saluted and bowed, showing his left hand behind his back; an old variation of the salute to show that he did not carry a second weapon. “All members of the Blade Force, as Special Operations officers, and because of the nature of our assignment on 1001.380, have red level security clearance. In addition, Officers Vaughnt, Zithe, Gokhead, and myself have Black level clearance. Gokhead let his Onyx clearance expire while attending the academy.”
The admiral seemed unable to believe it at first, but a twitch of her eye revealed that she’d accessed her micomm to confirm. “I see,” she replied and straightened her tunic; the uniform appeared to be brand new. “On UCSB Date 1003.222 the GFS Ushakov, a Brekhov class destroyer, engaged the Planet Slicer with slipstream torpedoes and then crashed into it at decimal nine light speed using its slipstream drive. The resulting impact appears to have breached the Planet Slicer’s main engine’s primary power core and several major power trunks. This left a substantial hole in the Planet Slicer’s shields but failed to bring down any further shields or weapons emplacements. The Planet Slicer was only able to complete its destruction of Nash-9 due to its own momentum and the fact that the antimatter injectors, like the defensive towers, are powered independently.”
Chris smirked at Gokhead across the table. The Drashig waved her off and motioned towards the admiral as she eyed them with clear annoyance. “The reason you are here now,” she began. “Is that you’ll be returning to the Planet Slicer in a decle and a half from now. Your other duties will be reassigned in the interim so that you can prepare for the mission.”
Marda glanced at Blazer’s leg in the speed heal cast and raised her hand. “Admiral. Blazer’s leg still hasn’t healed.”
Arion scoffed as well; his arms crossed. “And how are we supposed to insert? The Planet Slicer is just sitting there right now, so our last insertion plan is no good.”
The admiral’s tail swished about in annoyance as she laid both hands on the table. “Keep your comments to yourself until the briefing is con
cluded. And somebody wake that joker up!” she bit back, pointing at Acknit.
Mikle nudged his old friend, rousing him. Bleary eyed, Acknit smiled at the admiral.
“I will not tolerate your antics. I don’t know how your Telshin commander does. Your insertion method will be via Gorvian long range scout,” she announced and tapped a button on her wrist. A hologram of a pistol-shaped ship hovered before them in response. “The Galactic Federation captured this ship shortly before the battle in the Nashig System. It crossed their fleet’s path while they were en-route. We have refitted it to operate with a non-Gorvian crew and it has MeG-CE docking points. Once aboard, you are to liberate as many prisoners as possible and work to delay the Gorvian’s repair efforts by any means necessary.”
Blazer shook his head and sat up straighter in his seat. “Admiral. The Gorvians are sure to have upped their security since our last mission. Even the new MeG-CEs won’t blend with the rest of the Gorvian population. Are we planning to skin them somehow?”
The admiral tapped another key and a new model MeG-CE appeared, a holographic mask of Gorvian skin over its exterior. “We have equipped your units with these artificial skin suits that include thermal and optical masking weaves. Each one has been custom-tailored so that you won’t look too much alike. Additional holographic masks will complete the disguise.”
Marda looked at the myriad of different Gorvian skin suits they’d assembled. It drove home once again just how alien this species was, the brain tails the only constant between them. Even the locations of those features weren’t consistent.
Armageddon's Pall: Spiral War Book 4 Page 19