“Major Komanov, I presume?”
“Ah, colonel,” Darya Komanov replied in a fairly pronounced Russian accent. She came to attention and the two officers exchanged salutes before shaking hands. “I am pleased to meet you so soon. I know of your troubles planetside.”
“Nothing these won’t solve, I think,” Moo replied, leaning back to try and glimpse the top of the multi-kiloton weapon parked at one end of the armor column. It was like trying to see through a tenth-floor window from the sidewalk.
Up to now, Moo hadn’t fully appreciated just how spacious Flight Deck Two was, but now, having walked from the port loadlane past a full-sized starship, a squadron of gunships, a full battalion of combat engineering and construction vehicles and an entire brigade’s complement of heavy armor, he was once again re-impressed by just how much his captain’s new ship could transport from one battle to the next.
But he was even more impressed by the Razorbacks.
“Commander Hunter is right to be concerned about the threat on Bayone Three,” Komanov replied. “I’ve read her reports and your own. Your officers and men deserve commendation for containing this crisis with so little support. Admiral Powers sends his regards. I can assure you my marines will do their duty, and do it well.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, major, but you’re an intelligence officer, aren’t you? What brings you to the infantry?”
Komanov smiled warmly, and the colonel was suddenly struck by how attractive she was. It was a strange thing to notice on the brink of all out war, but the combination of her striking uniform, long dark hair and flawless complexion was a more welcome sight than Moo expected. Her face reminded the colonel of royalty.
“I’m afraid the full story is classified, colonel. Suffice to say my research was instrumental in the development of the White Wolf.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It is code name for the SX-12 Recon Tracker. Komanov indicated the smaller armored units at the far end of the column. “They deploy alongside the Razorbacks for surface electronic warfare, reconnaissance, anti-aircraft and missile defense.”
Moo regarded both tank models with even more astonishment. “So the tanks themselves have no ECM?”
“Ground unit electronic counter-measures are no longer necessary components tank by tank. We utilize that weight and volume for more speed and armor. The SX-15 superheavy warframe is the first fusion-powered infantry vehicle in the marine arsenal. These tanks can operate independently for up to eight years without maintenance and even regenerate their armor plating with the appropriate raw materials. Sixth Armor is the first brigade outfitted with experimental solar collectors in the event they lose main power. We gained that at the expense of full ECM suites.”
“How do you get them to the surface?”
“I will show you.” Komanov made her way across the flight deck. Moo was intrigued by how confident she seemed. Her steps were almost delicate, but her bearing was unmistakable in its military confidence. There was no doubt she was a marine officer in command of one hell of a lot of lethal firepower. She stopped at the edge of a partially-assembled flat vehicle that reminded the colonel of a three-foot-thick wheeled conveyor belt. “This is the Mackinac Lifter. These ground transports can be deployed independently or with Argent’s larger rail tunnels. They can carry vehicles, artillery, infantry or even a mobile command center.”
Moo looked around the flight deck with interest, trying to find where the command center might be parked. He had seen the readiness reports, but as a air-ground command pilot, he had never worked with a mobile base directly. Komanov showed him her tablet. The specifications for the base were displayed in full color.
“With the Admiral’s permission, I requested and received an Iron Keep. Once we have secured a spacehead on Bayone Three, 14th Infantry will assemble this base to use as a secure landing site and repair facility for our armor. With Argent’s fire support and strike wing, we should be able to hold all the territory west of the Starhaven frontier with a single brigade.”
“That’s a lot of territory for one column of infantry.”
“I wish we had more time,” Komanov replied. “But we’ll hit the ground like Skywatch marines.”
Fifty-Three
Aibreann hurried as fast as she could. She was only a few minutes from her house, and she wanted to do her best so the captain would be proud of her just like Zony was. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden blustery wind, however. Like all the inhabitants of Starhaven, she was well aware of the planet’s propensity for sudden and rather violent storms. They didn’t last long, but when they did show up, they made quite a mess.
The crops were provided for by one of the more humble inventions of the interstellar era. Because there were no orchards or flowering plants to protect, the fields were covered by aerodynamic inflatable low-friction tents equipped with minimal-power magnetic screens. Because the screens had no exposed structures, even the most unpredictable and destructive wind skipped right off their surfaces instead of tearing into the topsoil. Protective structures were expensive, but well worth their cost when alternatives like soil reconstruction and lost crops were taken into account.
All the children knew if the tents were visible over the crops, they had to go indoors right away. Some of Bayone’s weather events brought hail, rain and debris with them. Even rain moving at the same speeds as the powerful winds could be dangerous. Although it didn’t seem so bad now, she knew it wouldn’t be long before the storm would be screaming down the Starhaven streets at 200 MPH or faster. The weather might last about an hour, but during that time, she knew nobody should be outdoors.
The good news was she was only a couple of turns away from the short road her family’s house was on. She hurried down a tree-lined street with her Argent flight jacket bundled around her. She turned the corner towards home. Standing in the middle of the road only a short distance away were six darkly dressed men. They were all armed with what looked like the same power rifles used by Starhaven’s civilian security personnel. One had a backpack with a large flexible antenna on it. Aibreann instantly suspected they were the “bad guys” she had originally charged out into the night to confront.
Before she could hide or even turn to run, one of the men spotted her and raised his weapon. Aibreann froze. She knew full well how dangerous a power rifle was. The wind swirled down the narrow street. She thought of making a run for it, but the only path to her house was blocked by the suspicious men. By now there were three of them coming her way. All had weapons. Aibreann squeezed the commlink in her hand. “Dominique! Help me!”
The advancing riflemen were completely unprepared for what happened next.
Like an avenging angel rising from the ashes of wrought destruction, Tarantula Hawk gunship Black Seven rose into the sky not far behind little Aibreann. The sound of its atmospheric turbines was loud enough to overwhelm even the storm up and down the narrow street. The warship activated its ground lamps and its surface warfare systems brought two banks of anti-personnel weapons online. All six men stared in white-faced shock at Aibreann’s formidable guardian. Its targeting LASERs strobed to life, covering their bodies in glowing red lattices.
One of them made the mistake of firing reflexively at the huge dark shape in the sky. Whispery pale bolts of power rifle energy seared through the wind, ricocheting from Black Seven’s battle screens and lighting up the windows and doors of the surrounding houses. Aibreann stood her ground. The ironic reality of the situation made the scene at least somewhat believable, given this particular nine-year-old girl likely already had more space combat experience than any of her attackers. She was quite aware of what her ship was capable of.
The T-Hawk’s Oerlikon point-defense guns returned fire. Black Seven unleashed a terrifying rapid-blast hurricane of destruction up and down the street. Asphalt, composites, dirt, rocks, pieces of trees and streetlights were incinerated, pulverized, blown into the sky and scattered in all directions. By the time the fir
st barrage subsided, the attackers had fled, leaving two or three abandoned rifles, a huge cloud of smoke and approximately seventeen thousand square feet of debris. Although both the gunship and Argent had five by five tracking locks on all the riflemen as they ran for their lives, Black Seven elected to remain near its “command pilot,” who would have hugged the spacecraft if she could.
Minutes later Parakeet returned to her home base and reported mission accomplished to her grateful mother, who accepted the commlink and tried to comprehend the story of Captain Hunter, the space fighter girl with the pink hair and the pilot’s club. Dominique canceled the surface defense alert and the gunship set a return course for Argent’s Flight One.
Fifty-Four
“Yili’s team takes out the bridge here at the western edge of Gunfighter’s Quarry,” Captain Hunter pointed at the southern edge of a tactical map of Lethe Deeps. “My team will utilize the subterranean complex on the eastern edge of the valley, sabotage the security systems and take out the southern perimeter defense. That should cut off their ability to hit the engineering base and give us the potential for two fortified ground positions. I want the 14th to deploy their mobile base here, just west of the river.”
The hastily re-assembled Argent strategy committee considered the captain’s plan. They stood around a combination workbench and conference table aboard the Copernicus engineering corvette. Spread out on the table was a printed map of the entire Lethe Deeps region, complete with topographical and landmark features. The most recent Skywatch schematics of the decommissioned planetary defense base were included.
“How confident are we in those specs on the base, skipper?” Colonel Moody asked. “If we hit all four strike points simultaneously, which locations are we most worried about?”
Hunter placed both hands on the table and moved one of the tokens closer to the southern base edge. “Seventh Air-Ground has to come in from the south, under their air defense acquisition envelope. Once you’re across the quarry, you set down at the south plate and advance on the ground defense matrix here. That’s the biggest wild card in all this. Even though they’re situated behind a natural barrier, the original specs had a trainload of air defense on that south wall.”
“And once the 117th takes out the Gunfighter bridge, the rest of us are cut off by land,” Annora concluded. “We can’t fly in there until ground forces knock out that air defense, and the only unit we’ve got that can both get across that canyon and stay on the ground is a paladin.”
“Correct,” Hunter replied. “More important than the barrier for us is the barrier for them. If they have significant ground forces on that base, we know for a fact they won’t be able to advance directly south after we blow the bridge, which limits them to long-range engagements against our engineering base. Once we’re secure here, the next priority is on the water side. Komanov’s amphibious units will hit along the Lethe strand. I want three companies to make landfall here.” Hunter indicated the treacherous rocky beach bordering the north edge of the base. “They will fight their way to the spacefield to cut off any chance Atwell’s forces can use it as a recovery landing zone.”
“And that blocks for the 715th,” the major added. “The gun shop will set up on Bash Island west of the spacefield and engage units moving along the Point Road south to defensive positions here, here and here.” Komanov expertly indicated the most advantageous position from which enemy units could engage Yili’s engineering base with heavy firepower.
“Once the spacefield is secured, Sixth Armor will strike at the east perimeter, engage all ten heavy defensive positions at the Deeps Edge here and then advance on a two eight one with gunship cover to their superterranean power facilities and water purification northeast of central command.” Hunter stood straight and folded his arms.
“It’s a solid plan.” Hunter didn’t reply. “But you’re still troubled,” Annora said. Hunter shook his head.
“We need a truckload of air support for this. For all we know, they could have a couple squadrons holed up under that command structure. They’ve got enough power down there to field an entire mechanized division of infantry, and we know we can’t fly in from the south.”
“If they’ve got all that, they’re doing a great job of hiding it,” Zony said. “So far, I think we’ve picked off a couple of their scout patrols and one communications station, but aside from that, we haven’t seen anything heavy enough to successfully repel a coordinated attack.”
“We should take out that power grid anyway,” Yili said. It was one of the few times her fellow officers had seen her fully involved in a planning meeting. She usually preferred to be doing something more technical, like avoiding planning meetings. “If the base has subterranean access at the east end of the Quarry, what about the west?”
“There’s a pressure release tunnel up there,” Moody said. “Big enough for people but not much equipment. It will take you right up to the south edge of the spacefield before you’ll be blocked by a powered security fence and gate.”
“And beyond that?” Hunter asked.
“Past that gate you’ve got the run of the complex from the first sub-level all the way down to the reactors.”
“Let me take my guys in there, captain. They might have a lot of power now, but by the time my demolitions team gets done with them, they won’t have enough to cook a turkey dinner.”
“That would dovetail nicely with your group’s operation, cap,” Moody added.
“Very well, lieutenant,” Hunter said. “The 117th takes out the bridge and then you advance on that pressure tunnel until you get to their reactors. Knock out their power systems and then rendezvous with 14th infantry at the western perimeter here.” The captain indicated a high summit along the Point road.
“Acknowledged,” Curtiss replied.
“Now for the hard part,” Hunter said ominously. Rebecca Islington and her engineering chief stood a little straighter. “After what Perseus went through at X-Ray Tango, I think it’s a safe bet the space over Bayone Three is going to be an out-and-out slugfest. We’ve recorded heavy gravitics on Bayone Four, and you’ve all had a chance to review Captain Islington’s report on her little tangle over Bayone Six. That gives hostile inbounds two potential attack vectors with fallback support if they choose to use it. I think its more likely they will than won’t.”
“I take it the mission will be to defend against any approach from orbit?” Islington asked.
“Affirmative.” Hunter rolled up the surface map, revealing a tactical annotated orbital map of Bayone Three beneath. “I’m betting they won’t try a landing against our ground artillery. So Paladins, Cats and T-Hawk Black will be assigned to a surface warfare role to give Sixth Armor the air support it will need to defeat enemy ground forces. I’m setting aside T-Hawk Green and our Jack squadrons for ready strike capability against any heavy units that approach orbit from whichever vector they pick first. Fury will float to the other approach. The rest of Jayce’s squadron will set up a defensive perimeter for Argent’s HAVOC batteries to provide heavy orbital gunfire support for the 715th. If they move west, we pound them into spare parts. If they go east, Sixth Armor runs them over.”
“But we have to presume they will break the perimeter eventually and force us into open space,” Annora said.
“Affirmative, XO,” Hunter said. “Perseus has orders to keep you in a high tight orbit as long as possible, but if they force the issue and you have to maneuver, you take the fight right into their dental work. Clear?”
“As a bell, sir,” Commander Doverly replied.
“Atwell can likely match our tonnage,” Hunter continued, “but I don’t think he’s got the horses to match our combined firepower. Our mission is not to last-man this thing. I want that base neutralized and searched floor-by-floor. Meanwhile, I want their spacecraft driven back far enough that they’ll have to fight their way back into the system for round two. Any questions?”
“You think the base is where they took our c
rew?” Moody asked.
“I think that base is where they took all the crews,” Hunter replied. “I think when we get in there and find the secret room we’re going to know what happened to the Hades and Poseidon task forces. I think we’re going to find Hughes’ crew and if we don’t find the rest we’ll know where to look. I also want to know why Atwell abandoned Hughes and his little telepathy stunt.”
“And after that?”
“After that, colonel, it all depends on which direction they run.”
Fifty-Five
“Sir, do you have a minute?”
“Of course, Nessa. Come in.”
The captain’s quarters aboard DSS Rhode Island were adorned in a manner befitting her skipper. Blacks, purples and crimson were abundant. Like his quarters, Lieutenant Commander Darragh Walsh cut a striking profile. His visage was a study in contrasts. His grey eyes and jet black hair were set against a smooth unremarkable face. He had long been aware his gaze elicited uncomfortable anxiety in others, but none could question his suitability for his dangerous ship’s new role.
All who served with him noticed he was given to a certain gloominess in his dress. Although his uniform was still regulation to a certain extent, it was unusual enough to draw occasionally unfavorable attention from more conservative officers. The black gloves and insistence on the ominously large sidearm combined with a silvery metal necklace decorated with an iron Skywatch emblem invited more than a few of his crew to whisper.
Darragh Walsh was a hunter in the literal sense of the word, and it was with considerable liberty his superiors intended the pun when they gave him the space combat equivalent of silver-tipped blades, stakes, holy water and a cross before assigning his ship to the Perseus Task Force.
“Permission to speak freely?”
Walsh politely gestured to the chair near his desk. “What can I get you?”
Lieutenant Boyle wordlessly declined her captain’s offer of a drink but gladly accepted the offer of a moment to relax. She had been on the bridge or in CIC for more than eleven hours, following a trail apparently nobody but Rhode Island’s captain could detect.
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