Vertigo: Aurora Rising Book Two

by Jennsen, G. S.

  Reconnaissance had confirmed a similarly substantial force patrolled the area. Given that the orbital defense array was in shambles and the likelihood of the Alliance attempting to retake the colony, this wasn’t much of a revelation.

  Malcolm and a small strike team approached from the south. Their orders were to infiltrate the colony’s single city and extract the governor and his family. Should the Alliance win the day it would be an easy matter to return the governor to his home. But should the battle go the other way, this likely represented the only opportunity they would have to retrieve him.

  The shuttle shuddered from the buffeting atmosphere. The single corridor pair would be heavily guarded and thus not an option for entry or exit. As a military shuttle it sported upgraded defenses and a dampener field, but only a single tiny laser weapon. It was hardly ideal for infiltrating enemy territory, but an attack or stealth craft didn’t have room for his team of six plus the governor’s family. So they would land back from the town, camouflage the shuttle and go in on foot.

  Part of him was glad to be commanding a ground mission again. This was what he should be doing; this was where he belonged. But he had to admit he regretted the loss of the EAS Juno as well. Though he had served barely a month as its captain, it was possible he had grown a bit fond of it, and its crew. He and most of said crew had been lucky to get out of the last battle alive, but the Juno had not shared in their luck.

  As civilization had expanded across interstellar space over the last two centuries, the Navy had risen to a dominant role in the armed forces. While the importance of Marines deployable to any planet increased, practicality dictated the lines between Navy and Marine forces blurred. An officer who could serve on a ship one day and a ground team the next was a valuable officer to have on hand.

  So while the enlisted ranks remained largely separate, today all but the lowest-ranking officers were proficient in both naval and marine roles—which was why though he preferred serving with soil rather than stars beneath him, Malcolm had needed the Juno command if he wanted to promote.

  And now he found himself back at Desna once more. But this time he held a weapon and at least the illusion of control in his hands.

  The flight leveled off as the sky cleared outside the viewport. It was dusk planet-side and long shadows transformed the marshy terrain to the color of moldy laurel.

  If asked for one word to describe Desna, it would unequivocally be ‘wet.’ Much of the planet consisted of uninhabitable swamps, bogs and fens. The region the colonists settled was higher in elevation, where foothills rose out of the water and achieved some level of relative dryness. Above pervasive waterways and lochs Desna’s single city nestled against gradually sloping land. The small spaceport sat on a ridge above and behind the town and was a hike on foot. But they weren’t going to the spaceport.

  The shuttle pilot flew low over the rolling terrain, using the geography as cover. When under Alliance control the town hadn’t possessed much in the way of ground defenses and the Senecan occupiers would not yet have been able to add more than provisional additional measures, if they had erected any at all. They likely hacked the two surface-to-air defense turrets for use, but those would now be pointed toward the sky.

  The battle overhead had begun in earnest, and live chatter scrolled along a whisper in the right quadrant of his vision. He wouldn’t be able to focus on the play-by-play, but it would tell him how much time he had or, as the case may be, didn’t have.

  Since Desna was an Alliance world, Malcolm and his team possessed detailed maps of the topography and structural layout. The pilot landed in a small crevasse cut into the hillside 1.2 kilometers from the governor’s residence. In a stroke of luck the residence was on the more accessible side of the settlement. Were it located on the opposite side they’d have been forced to sneak or fight their way through the city, which would have made his goal of minimizing loss of life difficult.

  “Great job, Flight Lieutenant.” He unlatched the harness and stood. “Sit tight and do what you can to not attract attention.”

  “Quiet as a mouse, sir.”

  He turned to his team. He’d only worked with one of them before—Captain Brooklyn Harper—and it had been five years ago when she had barely cleared Marine Recon. But they were all special forces and according to their records, both talented and not overly bloodthirsty. This was a rescue mission, not a hit squad.

  “You guys have been briefed and you know the drill. The governor and his family are being held under house arrest at their home 0.8 kilometers outside the city center. We move quickly but quietly and try to delay detection for as long as possible. Until we reach the governor’s residence encounters are likely to be civilian, so watch your trigger finger but be ready.

  “Our intel is sketchy on perimeter security. There may be snipers, so stay in cover. We can expect eight or more guards in and around the home. Bet on more. The governor does not know we’re coming and we couldn’t take the chance his personal communications have been hacked, so things are going to get a bit twitchy once we’re inside. After we acquire our targets, their safety is of paramount concern on our retreat. We’re here to rescue them, not get them killed.”

  He nodded sharply. “Move out.”

  The damp, marshy soil sucked at their boots, trying to draw the team into its grasp and reducing their progress along the hillside. With this level of exertion the oxygen-rich air should have made them high—which would have constituted an unacceptable danger—but nanobots coursed through their bloodstreams, busily working to counteract the effect.

  The last rays of light sank beneath the loch to the left, right on time.

  Harper served as the forward scout and moved ahead to the residential area situated beyond the last curve of the hilly terrain. Malcolm held up a hand to signal a halt until she reported in.

  Hold 15 for civilian foot traffic. Two skycars in visual sight departing area.

  Acknowledged.

  The seconds ticked away, and they continued forward. It was a slippery, muddy sprint down the hillside before they reached the stone sidewalk which marked civilization.

  There existed little in the way of cover now beyond the occasional thin, reedy tree. Should they be spotted in the neighborhood civilians were expected to be friendly once they realized the soldiers were Alliance, but any interaction increased the probability of conflict. So they used the darkness and shadows and moved rapidly.

  A bright flare in the sky lit the street, sending them deeper into the shadows. A large ship—likely a cruiser—had exploded, and the sLume drives’ chain reactions combined with conventional explosions to create a churning tempest of white-gold flames. Malcolm focused the whisper. A Senecan ship. The battle continued, but he had been granted a fraction more time.

  The governor’s mansion sat at the end of a cul-de-sac of estates, which was not an ideal location. They couldn’t very well saunter up the long driveway to knock on the front door, so they cut through the backyards on the right side of the road.

  In the next to last lot they came upon a resident tending to his rather extensive flower garden and paying no mind to the military battle overhead. Malcolm crossed the space and clasped a hand over his mouth from behind.

  Other than a startled jump, the resident thankfully did not struggle. He placed his lips to the man’s ear. “We’re Alliance. We’re the good guys. Stay quiet and we’ll be on our way. Nod if you understand.”

  The elderly man’s head jerked in the affirmative. Malcolm waited another two seconds then removed his hand and backed away. The man had probably experienced the fright of his life—but to Malcolm’s surprise and relief, the man straightened up, squared his shoulders and gave him a salute. He returned the salute before disappearing into the shadows.

  A hundred meters out they activated cloaking shields in the hopes of breaching the security perimeter undetected. As the profile of the residence came into view between a line of the reedy trees, sirens began ringing through the a
ir.

  Everyone halted, but it wasn’t on their account. The battle raged on above them, and the accompanying wreckage had begun to rain down over the area. Like a vibrant meteor shower, trails of debris breaking up as it plummeted through the atmosphere lit the night sky. Distant fireworks added to the display where laser met metal. The defense turrets joined the fray, their blue-white beams streaking across the horizon.

  The chatter informed him a squadron of Alliance fighters had penetrated the outer defenses. His whisper continued to stream a silent procession of warnings, kill and damage reports and pleas for assistance. He allowed himself two seconds to monitor it and came away with the sense they were losing. Not lost and not soon, but losing. Which made their mission that much more important.

  Harper?

  In position, sir. Sniper on roof, 7.4°.

  Snipers were unable to employ personal shielding around their faces, as the subtle distortions interfered with an eye’s ability to focus. It would be a difficult shot, to hit a sniper in the face at sixty meters in the dark.

  Hold for 10, then take it out.

  Acknowledged.

  They moved fast to clear the trees and reach the stone fence enclosing the governor’s residence.

  Sniper down.

  Rodriguez, Shanti, left flank. Take out the guards at the front door then move in. Harper with me—our point of entry is the back patio. Eaton, Polowski, follow behind us then sweep around the other side and keep watch outside.

  As one they vaulted the stone fence and moved forward in a crouched run. The sirens proved a blessing, covering any sound they made. He and Harper reached the building façade and slipped along it to the rear corner.

  Her tiny bot floated up above line of sight and moved around the corner. The images it captured were beamed to both of them. Two guards stood on the patio, one on either side of the back door. The sirens had the men on alert, their full attention directed outward.

  Unlike the sniper, they would have advanced military-grade personal shields requiring several shots to penetrate. Shots assured to bring others running.

  3…2…1…mark.

  Malcolm rounded the corner at a full run, shoulders squared and lowered. The guards pivoted, guns raised and firing. The first shots bounced off his own shield, and then he was on them.

  He was a fairly big guy, virtually all of his bulk in the form of conditioned muscle, and had no qualms about using it to his advantage. He barreled into the first guard and they both crashed into the second guard and onto the ground. His gamma blade was out and had found the pliable material at the man’s neck before the guard was able to switch from gun to knife.

  Harper was small but fast. In less than two seconds she had circled to the second guard, who struggled to get out from under his partner’s body, and done the same. With any luck they hadn’t succeeded in raising an alarm.

  They framed the door and traded blades for guns, though the blades remained in easy reach. Inside the residence the bright laser fire didn’t matter and the shots necessary to penetrate a shield were a better option than trying to breach the distance to melee range while navigating the labyrinth of a home.

  He kicked the door in and raced to the next wall to flatten himself against it. He replaced the command feed on his whisper for a vicinity scan; the battle would play out to its conclusion whether he was watching or not. His men were marked in blue, and he expected there to be no friendly fire accidents tonight. Bodies wearing military-level tech—the interior guards—glowed red, other bodies green.

  Three targets main floor, central left from rear. Remaining two on second level, separate rooms. The wide staircase was located near the front of the house. Rodriguez, Shanti, status?

  Door guards down, one in kitchen.

  Take guard then get the two kids upstairs. We’ve got the main floor.

  Acknowledged.

  The floor plan for the residence consisted of a series of interlocking rooms on either side of a wide two-story hallway running through the center. He and Harper slid around the wall, cleared the hallway and slipped into the first room, which the floor plan showed was the governor’s office.

  They were about to clear the open entry to the next room when a guard popped around the corner, blade swinging outward in an arc. Harper dodged it in an acrobatic twist and ducked low to grab the guard’s waist and grapple him off-balance. Malcolm leveled the military-issue Daemon at the guard’s head and fired until the shield depleted and the laser tore through his skull.

  Captain?

  Good to go, sir. She jerked a curt nod to emphasize the point.

  The clamor in the house began to rise; their presence was no longer a secret. They rushed forward through a library to the living area. His glance into the room on the way to the wall told him three guards had surrounded the governor, his wife and a teenager he assumed was their son.

  “Governor, we’re Alliance military. We’re here to escort you off-planet. To the Senecan guards: allow us to take our citizens peacefully and you won’t be harmed.”

  “Can’t do that, soldier.”

  He hadn’t expected them to lay down arms, but he owed it to them to make the overture.

  Eaton, Polowski, are you clear?

  Clear.

  Enter and approach living area opposite my position.

  Acknowledged. In position in 10.

  “I’ll ask one more time. Hand over the governor and his family and let us walk out of here. No one else needs to get hurt.”

  “Surrender your weapons and you won’t be harmed. We will take you into custody as prisoners of war.”

  Not today.

  In position.

  “My orders are to retrieve—”

  Now.

  The flashbang grenade from behind blinded the guards, while their own ocular implants had activated a filter to block the worst of it. Still, these were skilled soldiers and even blinded they were instantly on the move.

  Then it was hand-to-hand combat over screams and shouts through a smoky haze. But the guards were outnumbered and at a disadvantage. Only one of the guards died, of necessity to Polowski’s blade; the other two were incapacitated and restrained.

  While Harper hunted for the kid, he located the governor and his wife. They had collapsed to the floor, disoriented from the grenade and the resulting chaos.

  “Sir, ma’am, are you injured?”

  Receiving only dazed mumbles in response, he helped them to sitting positions and discreetly checked for injuries. Finding none, he and Eaton carefully guided them to the couch.

  After another minute the governor blinked several times and made an effort to compose himself. “Thank you, soldier. What about the rest of my family? My daughters are upstairs.”

  Targets secure. Clear?

  Clear.

  En route.

  “They’re safe and will be here momentarily.”

  Found the kid. He crawled into the office, was going for his dad’s gun. I told him maybe next time.

  He chuckled silently at the exasperation in her tone as Rodriguez and Shanti appeared from the hallway, two terrified girls in tow. His briefing told him the youngest was eight, the older one twelve. They trembled against each other until they saw their parents, then scrambled across the room into their arms.

  He permitted the reunion five seconds out of respect. “Governor, we need to move before reinforcements arrive. We have a shuttle waiting, but it’s over a kilometer away in the hills.” He gazed around the room at his charges. “Is everyone okay to walk that far?”

  Receiving assurances of varying conviction, he continued. “Make sure you have good shoes on, then we need to go.”

  “But what about our—”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but if it’s not between here and the patio, we don’t have time. Let’s go.”

  The trek back to the shuttle was barely controlled, nerve-wracking chaos as they worked to keep everyone calm and quiet and moving in the correct direction.

 
The sky now glowed brightly from a constant stream of debris blazing across it. Fires burned in the distance near the city, where he assumed larger chunks of debris had survived the atmosphere to crash to the ground and initiate greater destruction. Desna now looked like the war zone it was.

  He heard the reinforcements arriving at the home as they reached the edge of the neighborhood, and the formerly quiet street acquired the chill of a hostile environment. They used a small cloaking field to help conceal the group’s movement. It wasn’t as powerful as a personal shield but it muted somewhat the cluster of heat signatures the governor’s family emitted. Muted enough, it turned out.

  They hiked around the last hill to where the shuttle waited, all but invisible in the dark. Exhaustion had overcome terror for the family and they wordlessly climbed in ahead of his team and sank into the seats. The older girl sat beside her brother; he wound an arm protectively over her shoulder.

  He expected the younger girl to crawl between her parents, but instead she sat down next to Harper. They lifted off and arced away from the city and the in-atmosphere portion of the battle. The girl stared up at the soldier next to her. “Are you a girl?”

  Harper laughed lightly. “I sure am.”

  “Really?”

  She pulled off her helmet and unbound her hair to let rich, golden-blond locks fall to her shoulders. “See?”

  In another circumstance there would’ve been catcalls from the rest of the squad, but they had the sense to realize this wasn’t this time. The girl’s eyes were bloodshot and watery but wide with wonder. “Wow….”

  He smiled to himself, glad to see the little girl hadn’t suffered too severe a trauma from the events of the night.

  “We can’t take the corridor, so I need everyone to strap in. It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but you’re safe now.”

  Before strapping in the governor stood and offered a hand. “Thank you…?”