Galactic Empire Wars: Insurrection (The Galactic Empire Wars Book 5)

by Raymond L. Weil

  “Colonel, we have an incoming assault ship,” Captain Foster reported.

  A moment later an amber warning light began flashing on the HUD in Dylan’s suit. Stunners! The Zaltule were trying to use stunners to immobilize his Marines. Dylan shook his head. After what had happened to Colonel Stratford and Major Stevens, all battlesuits had been equipped with a small device that made stunners useless. There were also a number of the devices in the Defender, particularly the med bay. However, not all areas of the ship were protected due to the crash. He would have to have his Marines sweep the ship to see if any of the surviving crew had been stunned.

  “The assault ship is leaving,” Captain Foster reported. “Guess they didn’t like it when they saw we weren’t falling over.”

  Dylan looked around the spaceport. His Marines had taken up defensive positions around some of the nearer buildings and had even brought up vehicles and equipment they had located to form barriers. The six hover tanks were situated behind some makeshift walls the Marines had flung up to give them some added protection. Looking over toward the tall building he knew housed the Kleese, he wondered what they were doing inside. Captain Stern had reported very little movement from the conscripts defending the trapped Kleese.

  “Captain Taylor, how many of the drops ships and cargo drop ships are still operational?”

  “Not many,” Taylor replied. “Things got pretty banged up inside the flight bays. I have several of the ship’s engineers with me and they feel pretty confident they could get two or three of the drop ships operational and maybe one of the cargo drop ships.”

  Dylan looked across the spaceport, scrutinizing the other spacecraft he could see. “Captain Taylor, when you’re through in the flight bay, take a squad of Marines and some engineers over to those spacecraft in the berthing cradles to the northwest of the Defender. See if they have Fold Space Drives and if it would be possible to fly them out of here.”

  “We’ll get on it,” Taylor responded.

  Dylan knew if Admiral Adamson attempted to rescue them, the best chance they might have was to use the spacecraft in the cradles to attempt to escape in the confusion. It wasn’t much of a chance, but it was better than what they had now.

  -

  Admiral Adamson stared at the data the Warspite had brought back from the Lymeth Three System. He let out a long and deep breath. Colonel Winfrey was trapped on the planet along with six hundred Human survivors. In orbit above the planet were over one hundred heavily armed Zaltule battlecruisers.

  “I just don’t see a way in,” Commander Shepherd said, shaking her head. “If we try to land any of the Marine assault cruisers, the Zaltule will shoot them down before they can reach the spaceport. If we ask Colonel Winfrey to try to meet us in orbit, the Zaltule will shoot down anything he launches before it can reach us.”

  “If we take all of our ships in, that will give us twenty-two ships if we include the Marine assault cruisers,” commented Adamson, reaching up and rubbing his forehead. “The Marine assault cruisers are pretty heavily armed.”

  “We’ve already lost half of our battlecruisers, even with the Constellation and the Callisto we just don’t have the firepower,” Commander Shepherd replied in a grim voice. “These are Zaltule battlecruisers we’re talking about attacking. If we try a rescue, we could easily lose the rest of the fleet.”

  Adamson closed his eyes and shook his head. The mission was a disaster. If his fleet were destroyed, Military Overlord Harmock would have no reason to pull his ships back from the Alliance. He also wondered how the Zaltule had figured out where his fleet was going to attack. Three large fleets at three former nonaligned worlds was extremely worrisome. He strongly suspected there had to have been other fleets involved as well. Was it possible they had drastically underestimated the size of the Zaltule fleet? If so, it was vital for that information get back to the Alliance and General Mitchell.

  “Sandra, how long do you think the Constellation and the Callisto could stand up to the firepower of the Zaltule fleet over Lymeth Three?”

  “Five or six minutes tops,” she answered. She looked intently at the admiral. “You’re not thinking of attempting a rescue with just our two heavy battlecruisers?”

  “We don’t leave our people behind,” Admiral Adamson said, straightening his shoulders. “Look what happened to Colonel Stratford and Major Stevens the last time that happened. Do you want Colonel Winfrey and his Marines to suffer the same fate? We at least have to try to save them.”

  Commander Shepherd knew the admiral was right. She just didn’t know how they were going to do the impossible.

  -

  On Lymeth Three, Colonel Winfrey was back in the Command Center of the Defender. The surviving engineers had gotten a few of the secondary systems working. Several viewscreens were functioning showing the surrounding spaceport. The short-range sensors were working sporadically and the communications console was once more functional.

  “That’s it,” reported one of the engineers. “Everything else is too damaged and we’re way short on power.”

  “What about weapons?” Colonel Winfrey was hoping they could get a few of the weapon turrets functional.

  It might make a big difference if they ended up facing a large number of conscripts or even Zaltule warriors. Captain Taylor had reported back earlier that only two of the large cargo ships in the cradle berths were equipped with Fold Space Drives. The engineers thought they could launch them, but the ships had no weapons or energy shields.

  “Not enough power,” the engineer replied. “We’re pushing it as it is.”

  “Colonel, we have ships descending from orbit,” the young ensign at the sensor console reported. “It looks as if all ten of the Kleese assault ships are coming down as well as a number of small craft from the Zaltule battlecruisers.”

  Colonel Winfrey stood up and activated his command channel. He was still wearing his Type Four battlesuit. “Attention! It looks as if the Zaltule are sending down more conscripts as well as some of their own warriors. Captain Taylor and Captain Foster, make sure everyone has extra load outs on ammo. Captain Stern, pull your people back from the Kleese buildings and the control tower. I’ll be out shortly.”

  Dylan looked over at the engineer. “Even one weapons turret would be useful in what’s about to come our way.”

  The engineer fidgeted. He was worn out from a lack of sleep and trying to piece together wrecked systems with a minimal workforce. “I’ll try. I’m not going to promise anything. The only weapon we might be able to get to function is one of the railgun turrets.”

  “Do what you can,” Dylan ordered as he turned and left the shattered Command Center.

  -

  On his way down through the ship, he stopped at the med bay. Stepping inside, he saw it had suffered very little damage.

  Walking over to the far end he concentrated and his neural implant raised the visor on his helmet. He looked down at the man on the bed.

  “Colonel Winfrey,” spoke Commander Greer in a weak voice.

  “Commander,” Dylan responded. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like the ship fell on me,” answered Greer, forcing a weak smile. “The damn doctors won’t tell me much. How many of my command crew survived?”

  Dylan shook his head. “The entire ship’s heavily damaged. We lost a lot of people in the landing. We’re lucky any of us are alive.”

  Greer was silent for several long moments. Dylan thought the commander had fallen back to sleep but then he spoke again.

  “This was a good crew. I suspect I’ll be joining them soon.”

  “We all may be,” Dylan said with a sigh. “The Zaltule are landing their assault ships and some other small vessels from their battlecruisers. We’ll soon be engaged in heavy fighting.”

  “Assault ships,” mumbled Commander Greer, his voice barely audible.

  Dylan heard Greer say something else but it was so quiet he couldn’t understand it. Leaning closer, he asked Greer to repeat
it.

  With his lips barely moving, Commander Greer explained to Dylan what needed to be done.

  Dylan stood back up, his eyes showing their stunned admiration. “Crap,” he said. “Why didn’t I think of that?” Turning, he rushed from the med bay.

  -

  In orbit, Minor Overlord Matol watched the ship’s viewscreens expectantly. He was sending down all ten assault ships so he could take advantage of the conscripts on board. They would be used as cannon fodder against the Human fortifications. Once they had been expended, he would send his Zaltule warriors in. Each warrior was encased in a Type Three battlesuit and would be more than a match for the Humans. He was disappointed the stun beams from the assault cruiser had failed to incapacitate them. There was no doubt many of the Humans would die in the coming attack, but his warriors had strict orders to capture as many of them as possible.

  Standing upon the Command Pedestal, his multifaceted eyes gazed at the viewscreens and the descending ships. He had all of his battlecruisers on full alert. A small Human warship had been detected in the far outskirts of the system earlier. He had sent several of his battlecruisers to investigate, but it had entered Fold Space before his ships could get there. He suspected the Humans might be contemplating an attempted rescue of their trapped brethren down on the planet. If they did, it would give him the opportunity to destroy the rest of their fleet.

  What the Humans didn’t know was that three more Zaltule fleets were in transit in Fold Space. The first of those fleets would arrive within the next three hours. The farthest fleet coming to Lymeth Three was none other than War Overlord Tetus. Matol hoped the battle would be over by then so the glory of the victory over the Humans would be his.

  -

  The ten assault ships landed around the periphery of the spaceport on the blastcrete. Hatches opened and from each ship eighty conscripts in hulking Type Two battlesuits disembarked and began making their way toward the entrenched Humans. A few moments later, a number of smaller vessels landed and from these emerged the Zaltule in their Type Three battlesuits. Very shortly the battle for control of the spaceport would begin in earnest.

  -

  Colonel Winfrey called a quick meeting with his three captains. What Commander Greer had suggested to him was still fresh on his mind. “Captain Taylor, I want you to take a full platoon of Type Four battlesuits and try to capture one of the Kleese assault ships.”

  “A Kleese assault ship?” Captain Foster said, sounding confused. She was in a Type Three command suit. “What good will that do?”

  “We can load our people on it,” Colonel Winfrey said. “It has an energy shield and just maybe we can get far enough out of the planet’s atmosphere to enter Fold Space. It’ll be crowded, but we can manage for a short time.”

  “The Zaltule will only shoot it down before it gets high enough,” objected Taylor. “I would rather die here on the planet fighting back.”

  “In all the confusion, the Zaltule might not realize we’ve seized the assault ship,” Winfrey quickly explained. “Captain Stern will take a platoon of Marines in Type Three battlesuits along. The Type Threes are similar enough to the Type Twos that the crew of the assault ship might not realize it’s not their conscripts returning until it’s too late.”

  Captain Taylor pondered the colonel’s suggestion for a few moments before finally replying. “It’s a risk, but I don’t know what else we can do.”

  “Pick your Marines and get moving. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  -

  Colonel Winfrey watched as Captain Taylor and Captain Stern moved out. They were going to try to thread their way through the approaching conscripts and Zaltule. If they had any hope of making it, they would need some help and he knew just where that help would come from.

  “All hover tanks, I want a barrage of explosive rounds fired five hundred meters out and then continuous overlapping fire in increasing twenty-meter increments.”

  This would put the rounds directly in front of the two Marine platoons and might just generate enough confusion to allow them to make it to the assault ship undetected. He knew if they failed, they were all doomed to die on the spaceport. Colonel Winfrey had already decided the Zaltule were not going to take his Marines captive. He had rigged two suit nukes to detonate inside the Defender upon his command. The resulting explosion would annihilate everything within five hundred meters of the ship.

  -

  Sergeant Phil Dawson gripped his RG rifle in his armored hands ready to fire. He was standing behind a makeshift wall of large crates and machinery the Marines had piled up to give them some protection.

  “Keep your ass down, Sergeant Dawson,” Captain Foster said over the command channel.

  “It’s Kleese time,” Phil responded as he aimed his rifle at the distant conscripts coming toward them.

  Nicole shook her head. Dawson, like many of the other Marines, wanted a crack at the Zaltule in combat.

  It was at that moment the hover tanks began firing their explosive rounds. Massive explosions suddenly erupted in front of the oncoming conscripts, bringing their advance to a halt. They hesitated and then the next barrage came down right on top of them. Suits were blown apart as the deadly rounds detonated. The conscripts died by the dozens, but there were nearly eight hundred of them. Several more explosive barrages landed and then the explosions began going off behind them, close to the advancing Zaltule.

  “Hit them with suit explosive rounds!” ordered Captain Foster, seeing the conscripts were milling around demoralized from the hover tank bombardment.

  Sergeant Dawson didn’t hesitate and began launching his rounds as rapidly as he could find a target. The confused conscripts were dying in droves as the nearly four hundred Marines in battlesuits let loose with an earth-shattering barrage. Smoke began to blot out the sun and even a few fires were burning where buildings had been hit. But now the conscripts were close enough to begin returning fire. RG rounds and even a few energy beams began to search for and find the Marines in their battlesuits.

  Sergeant Foster groaned as she saw a number of green icons on her HUD turn amber and then red. Then, suddenly, explosions began going off around the Marines’ positions. She knew instantly it was the Zaltule firing off explosive rounds from their battlesuits. The battle had just taken on a much more dangerous and ominous tone. She saw several rounds strike the defensive barricades and a number of Marines go down.

  An explosive round hit close to Nicole, blowing a large gaping hole in the defensive wall she was standing behind. Another icon on her HUD turned from green to red. Feeling ill, she looked to her left at the mangled Type Three battlesuit lying prone on the ground. It was Private Jacob Carter and he had been part of her platoon for a long time. Taking a deep breath, she looked out across the blastcrete at the enemy.

  Pointing her RG rifle at the advancing conscripts and Zaltule, she took careful aim and fired. With satisfaction, she saw a conscript fall. Switching targets, she began laying down a withering hail of fire in the enemy’s direction.

  -

  Colonel Winfrey was watching the battle from inside the Defender. He had gone back inside to use the few functioning viewscreens so he could better direct the fight. With a grimace, he saw two of his hover tanks explode in fiery blasts as Zaltule explosive rounds took them out. The battle was becoming more intense as the Zaltule became more involved. If something didn’t change quickly, his Marines were in danger of being overrun.

  Using one of the viewscreens, he zoomed in on the assault ship Captain Taylor and Captain Stern were nearing. With satisfaction, he saw them suddenly rush up the ship’s ramp and vanish into its interior. He couldn’t believe it, but it looked as if Commander Greer’s suggestion to capture an assault ship was actually going to work.

  “Sergeant Dawson,” he said over the command channel. “Come back to the ship with your squad. I need you to escort some crew personnel over to the assault ship in case we actually get to fly it out of here.”

 
; “On my way,” Dawson answered. “But, sir, there’s a lot of conscripts and Zaltule between us and the ship.”

  Before Dylan could reply the engineer he had been speaking to earlier came into the Command Center. “Sir, I have two of the railgun turrets activated. We’re robbing the power from the med bay. They’ll only function for about thirty seconds.”

  “That will do,” Dylan said with a wolfish grin. He looked over where an ensign was sitting at the tactical console. “Can you fire the railguns?”

  “I think so, sir,” the ensign replied nervously. “I’ve been trained to, but I’ve never actually done it.”

  Dylan opened his suit visor and smiled at the young man. “Just do as you were trained and you’ll do fine.” Dylan pointed toward the assault ship that Captain Taylor and Captain Stern had gone into. “See that assault ship, I need you to eliminate all the conscripts and the Zaltule between us and there when I give the order.”

  “Yes, sir,” gulped the young man as he began hesitantly to press buttons and controls on the console in front of him. “I’m setting up a thirty-second controlled fire that will sweep back and forth between us and the assault ship.” It took the ensign several nerve-wracking minutes to finish and then he turned toward the colonel. “I’m ready, sir.”

  “Sergeant Dawson, I have a little surprise for the Zaltule, have you made it back to where the crewmembers are waiting?”

  “Yes, sir,” Dawson answered. “We can leave when you give the order.”

  “I have two railgun turrets that I’m going to use to clear you a path. When they begin firing, get your ass to that assault ship.”

  “Yes, sir,” Dawson replied.

  Dylan nodded and turned toward the ensign sitting nervously at the tactical console. “Fire!”

  -

  On the broken hull of the Defender, two twin railgun turrets rotated into position and then began firing. Explosions racked the advancing conscripts and Zaltule, blowing huge holes in the blastcrete. The conscripts and Zaltule died by the dozens as the powerful rounds blew them apart. It was a slaughter, as not even the Zaltule in their Type Three suits were impervious to rounds designed to take out entire buildings. The kinetic energy released by the rounds was minuscule compared to what would have occurred if they had been fired from orbit, but the explosive force was still powerful enough to make the section of the spaceport the rounds were aimed at disappear in a series of massive blasts. Dark gray smoke and occasional flames leaped into the air, obscuring the carnage.