Showdown: Rise Of Mankind Book 10

by John Walker

  Redding sighed. “We’ll have to endure their assault for at least half a minute if we hope to attack that thing.”

  “They have that much range on us?” Adam asked. “How?”

  Olly answered, “those things are pretty much floating cannons, sir. They are one hundred percent dedicated to combat. Even life support is minimal. I can’t tell until we get closer but I’m willing to bet that they’re not even manned.”

  “And how many are there in this general area?” Adam pressed.

  Olly put it on the screen and Gray frowned. A grid of ten needed to be taken out in order to create room for them to operate without constant harassment. That would allow them to hit at least a tertiary target, possibly before they were attacked by the large force they just fled from. However, if they wanted to get it done, they needed to hurry.

  “Full speed, Redding,” Gray said. “Get in there and take those things out.”

  “Yes, sir.” Redding increased speed and Gray ensured The Crystal Font was in on the plan. They acknowledged, moving alongside them. Maybe two targets would confuse the defenses and they’d get a little closer before the heaviest of the bombardment. Gray didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  The first attack shook the ship, a series of hits from three different platforms hammering the forward shields. Olly called out a damage report, stating defenses held at a first eighty percent. He began adjusting power now that he had some readings on what the platforms were capable of.

  Gray noted that they hit hard. Every blast gave the ship a solid nudge. They needed to take four hits before they could return fire and by the third one, Olly started to sound nervous. Redding adjusted course, performed some evasive maneuvers but there was really nowhere for them to go.

  They were out in the open with the enemy spread out perfectly to hit them regardless of where they moved. As the fourth shot racked the ship, sparks flew from one of the consoles. Gray glanced over at it before turning his attention to Olly. The young man’s hands flew over the controls, tapping away.

  “That was concussive damage,” Olly announced. “We have some shorts here and there but engineering is on them. Shields remain at sixty percent.”

  “How’d they cause that?” Adam asked. “What happened?”

  “Two shots in the same location,” Olly replied. “It gave us enough of a nudge that we felt it internally.”

  Redding interrupted, “we are in range to fire.”

  “Take the shot,” Gray said. “Take them down.”

  The familiar sound of pulse cannons igniting rumbled somewhere below them before the beams lanced out. They met their targets, slamming into the first platform some distance off. Olly sighed and shook his head. “Direct hit. Minimal damage.”

  “And we have to do ten of those?” Adam asked. “Can we increase power to the weapons? Something to really punch through these things.”

  “Coordinated assault,” Gray said. “Redding, sync up with The Font and hit them together.”

  “Yes, sir.” Redding lowered her voice as she reached out to the other ship. Gray turned his attention to the screen beside him, reading highlights from several reports throughout the ship. Medical put in several injuries from the concussion blast, mostly burns and bruises. Engineering stated that the shield generator was on the verge of overheating.

  Great, why not? Gray looked up in time to witness another assault from the defensive platforms. They were within range of four of them and he finally got a decent view of them. They were little more than engines with four turrets, flying generators capable of defending themselves and packing a punch.

  Maintenance must be performed from the outside. The thought was interrupted as they were hammered again, though this time by fewer shots. Unfortunately, that didn’t matter as the lights dimmed from the impact.

  “Left forward shields dropped for a moment during that hit,” Olly said. “They’re back up now and I’m trying to reinforce them. Damage report incoming.”

  “I’ve got it,” Adam said. “Just focus on the shields.” He paused a moment. “Hangar two has been hit hard. They’ve got emergency bulkheads in place to block up a hull breach. A damaged fighter was destroyed and medical is on their way. No casualty count yet but at least one dead.”

  Gray clenched his fist. “Redding, I need some action here. We can’t take that kind of abuse too many times.”

  “I understand,” Redding replied. “We’re firing now.”

  Gray held his breath as the pulse cannons let loose again. He watched the view screen as their weapons were joined by The Crystal Font. The platform was unable to move and simply had to take the damage. As their blasts struck home, the generator must’ve popped as the entire thing became a ball of orange energy then winked out into nothing.

  One down, nine to go.

  “Good job. But we can’t rest on that. Keep going. Let’s get creative too.”

  Another series of blasts racked the ship and it seemed to go on forever. Gray lost track of the number of times they were hit and the lights went out by the time the sounds finished. Half a moment passed when he wondered if he’d been knocked unconscious, the bridge fell so silent. When finally the lights came back on, chaos reigned.

  “I’m withdrawing,” Redding said. “We’re too close to the other platforms!”

  “Get us out of range!” Gray shouted. “Olly, damage report!”

  “My station’s down,” Olly announced. “I have no connection to the rest of the ship!”

  “Mine as well,” Leonard said. “I can’t plot a course.”

  “I’ve got it.” Redding reversed the throttle and got them moving but it seemed slower than it should have. Of course, Gray recognized that they were in a desperate situation, making any action feel like it was taking too much time. He turned to Clea who worked on her tablet, tapping away quickly.

  “What’ve you got?”

  “Damage reports,” Clea said. “And I’m connecting up with The Font for Agatha. Engineering is on the network relay to the bridge. We should have stations restored in a moment. Redding’s using manual controls. That’s why the ship feels sluggish.”

  “Understood.” Gray sighed. “What’s our status? Shields?”

  “Down to ten percent and totally out on the left front. The emitter might be damaged. I’ve dispatched people to fix it.” Clea turned to him. “Tech stations are down, security has reported a hull breach but the engines are still online and undamaged. We’ll have power restored shortly and we should be able to get out of range of those things pretty fast.”

  “We only took one of them down,” Gray said. “And that was a coordinated attack! How are we going to deal with the rest of them? How will the fleet?”

  “They’ll have more firepower per platform,” Adam replied.

  I shouldn’t have made this call. Gray shook his head. I can’t believe I got us that torn up on the verge of more ships jumping into our area. “How’s The Crystal Font?”

  “They’re reporting minimal damage,” Clea said. “It seems that the platforms prioritized us over them.”

  “Lucky us,” Adam muttered.

  “My station’s back up,” Olly said. “And I’m reading incoming jumps…both allied and otherwise.”

  Our reinforcements. Gray looked down at his screen and swallowed back a lump of frustration. This should’ve worked. We should’ve had those things. Now we’re back to facing down a cadre of enemies that will do nothing to forward our objectives. Perfect, Atwell. Just perfect.

  “Prepare for ship to ship battle,” Gray said. “Olly, I need those shields up and back to one hundred percent. Have engineering prioritize the emitter. We’ve got very little time before this gets hot. We need to be ready.”

  ***

  Mei’Gora looked over the battlefield reports and paused on some unusual activity near the transmission station. Apparently, The Crystal Font and The Behemoth made a run at the planet and they got close too. Defensive platforms drove them back but they managed to b
ring one down and nearly attained a firing solution.

  Those are some daring men out there. Foolhardy, perhaps…but daring.

  The results surprised him. Several enemy ships broke their picket and began flying in that direction. It drew enough of the enemy fleet that he saw an opening from his side. Perhaps the devarans believed his people would not risk pushing or maybe they calculated their stalemate would last despite losing some numbers.

  But statistically speaking, Mei’Gora felt like he might be able to make another drive for the planet.

  He sent orders to the battleships, prioritizing them to take the brunt of the first attacks that would come. Scouts would come in from the rear and they would coordinate their assaults, putting as much hurt on the different ships as possible. However, before he pulled the trigger on this assault, he wanted to give the transmission station a little more time.

  When Captain Atwell and Anthar Ru’Xin got their reinforcements, they’d be able to hold out against the enemy reinforcements. Mei’Gora would’ve loved to see a report of how the soldier were doing aboard the station. Everyone knew that job would be dicey but high command remained confident in the success.

  If they take it out, I’ll punch through for sure. Getting into position will make it possible to take advantage of their weakness instantly. Come on, gentlemen. We need you to get this job done!

  ***

  Trellan leaned against the wall and stared down at his boots, taking a moment to consider the situation. He knew the marines had it bad but the fact they were utterly decimated made him sick to his stomach. So many lives lost and they only fought a few enemy soldiers. What a dramatic blow.

  His own progress went unimpeded after his encounter with the maintenance worker, a fact he considered very lucky. This is not to say he had no enemy contact. There were other technicians but they were always on the other side of walls, going about their functions as if nothing were happening.

  They certainly didn’t act like their planet happened to be under siege by several other cultures.

  I’m glad they aren’t scanning the walls for intruders. Their security is pathetic. Maybe these aliens didn’t believe we’d try something like this. It was a bold move and to be fair, it’s nearly failed. If those three marines and I don’t find a way, then I suppose they don’t need the security after all.

  Trellan remained close to the walls as he walked, pausing when he heard movement on the other side. When his scanners picked up enemy contact, he slowed down and pressed tightly against the opposite wall. They’d all been solid so far but he couldn’t be sure when he might encounter an access panel or even damage allowing visibility into the corridors.

  His computer showed that he had another two hundred yards and one ladder up to get to his destination. He resisted the urge to hurry, keeping his pace even and quiet. A small group congregated nearby, all of them in the middle of the room according to his HUD. Slipping by them, his foot caught on something and he paused, peering down.

  A piece of broken pipe jutted from the wall, just at ankle level. Trellan carefully paced around it and continued on his way, keeping an eye down as he went. His HUD changed, indicating that the devarans were on the move. Please don’t tell me they’ve decided to make some repairs right this second.

  They went the opposite direction of him and took a left, moving off toward one of the many maintenance entrances he found during his trip. If they were going to be in there soon, he needed to be long gone. One proved enough to give him a shoulder ache. Three would likely be his death.

  Picking up the pace, he arrived at the ladder a few moments later and started down. It was extra wide, providing plenty of room for the devarans to navigate it. As he got half way down, he heard footsteps above him and down the hall. They were in there now though whether they were coming his direction, he had no idea.

  Trellan checked his scanner briefly, noting that none of the enemy happened to be in his immediate vicinity on that floor. He hurried for the last hundred yards, arriving at the hatch leading to the control center. Inside, one devaran moved about but no others. The nearest life readings were above him and far off to the left.

  Even if they started running now, I’d have time to shut down the station. I need to get the drop on this guy. A prolonged fight won’t end well and might compromise the whole mission.

  Trellan popped the hatch, moving slowly. The panel felt heavier in his hands than he anticipated and he pulled it inside and gently set it to the side. It made the smallest of sounds, metal on metal and he held his breath in anticipation of the devaran hearing it. The alien continued his work as if nothing happened.

  The Fates are definitely feeling generous right now.

  Technology lined the walls, floor to ceiling banks of equipment with green and white lights flashing on the surfaces. The devaran sat at a terminal in the center of the room. A wall of equipment obscured Trellan from casual sight but he wouldn’t be able to get around behind the thing without it seeing him.

  Part of him said to back off. You can’t possibly take that thing and if you go in there, you’re just going to die. The fear of what might happen gave him pause but he knew he didn’t have a choice. Bailing after what the others sacrificed, what so many risked to put them on that station, made it easy to set foot in the room.

  As he paced inside, he crouched low, drawing his pistol. A suppressor popped into place as he prepared for a close quarters fight, something he hoped would not be nearly as exciting as the first round he went with the monster in the hallway. He crept toward the devaran, moving without sound.

  Rounding the computer bank in front of him, he saw the thing’s leg. Another step forward gave him a view of the body then the head. It stared intently at a screen, the pale light illuminating hideous flattened features. Without thermal vision, he was able to take in more details. The face lacked a nose, the eyes were black and small and the mouth seemed overly large.

  Even the jaw was extra wide and the body itself was easily twice that of an average kielan. I don’t even see ears. How do these things sense the world around them? Maybe it’s part of their defenses to protect their sensitive bits by having them recede when unneeded? I don’t have time for idle curiosity.

  Trellan raised the pistol but he wanted to get closer, to put the weapon directly against the thing’s neck and pull the trigger three or four times. Point blank shots worked. Their skin wasn’t that tough. But getting next to it without causing a commotion, that was the trick. Once it sensed him, however it did, he would need to be practically on top of it.

  Once he found himself out in the open, Trellan moved swiftly. The devaran looked up, its tiny eyes widening. It began to stand just as Trellan rounded the terminal and had a clear line on the thing’s side. He threw himself at the alien, colliding with its side. To his discouragement, it didn’t even sway.

  Trellan secured his grip around the thing’s shoulder and pressed his pistol against its neck. He managed to fire once before he was dislodged and tossed backward into one of the terminals. The metal didn’t give and he slid to the floor. His back hurt but he wasn’t dazed. Still, he gave the devaran the appearance he’d stunned him.

  “A kielan.” The thing sounded both disgusted and surprised. Blood leaked from the wound but it didn’t seem to slow the beast down. “Here. Why? Speak before you die.”

  “I…need…” Trellan muttered the words, trying to draw the thing closer.

  “I cannot hear you.” The devaran crouched before him. “What do you hope to accomplish by coming here?”

  “I just…” Trellan made it lean closer by whispering. The trap was working. Once the face was within arm’s reach, Trellan lifted the gun and pressed it to the side of the monster’s head. It gasped once before he began pulling the trigger. The weapon gasped out each shot, the report masked by the suppressor.

  Three shots made the thing jerk and tumble away, dropping to the ground. It pressed a hand against the offending wound but was still moving. How
do these things take so much punishment? Trellan lunged toward it, pressing his weapon against the throat this time. He unloaded the magazine and drew another, slamming it into place.

  The monster wheezed and slumped to the ground. Trellan’s computer indicated it was dead but he almost didn’t believe it. As he stood up, he winced from the pain in his back. Glancing at the terminal he hit, he noticed his body dented it. Okay, well…now I know why I’ll be sore for the next year.

  Trellan wondered if the sound of him hitting the panel would bring some curious devarans to investigate. Part of him thought not. They seemed determined to only perform their duties at the exclusion of all else. The one he killed acted surprised to see him despite all the activity going on.

  He sat down at the terminal and initiated the universal code to get into the system. With any luck, he’d have full control of the facility in the next few minutes. Of course, nothing worked so easily and he didn’t anticipate walking out of there without a complication. Maybe he could lock the door, especially if all the noise woke someone up.

  However, the fact he was sitting in the chair gave him some hope.

  Chapter 9

  Alma, Tular and Meagan returned to the others in their wing to find that their side had the upper hand. They turned the tides, putting the odds in the favor of the alliance before really pressing their advantage. The devarans didn’t have any reinforcements, not readily available or that had arrived, so the fighter squadrons were able to whittle them down.

  If only we could’ve removed those damn gunships! Alma hated the fact they’d gotten away. As she lined up a shot and blew a fighter out of the sky, she spun around and dove, avoiding another attack. Tular joined her, driving the enemy off and giving her some space to breathe. The two returned to the rest of the wing, hunting for another shot.

  “The Font and The Behemoth just rushed the planet,” Meagan announced. “Mick gave me a quick report. Looks like those defensive platforms did some serious damage.”