“The lizard got some call and let his guard slip,” Knoble answered.
“How’d it get through the vents?”
“He was smaller than most.”
“How did—”
“Sparky,” Knoble interrupted, giving the Private a strong slap on the shoulder. “No more questions, alright? For all we know, there could be more Drocain patrolling the tunnels, and if that’s the case, I’d like to get the jump on them. You know how it usually ends when they’ve got the element of surprise.”
Sevadi nodded enthusiastically and stayed silent for the remainder of the journey. Thirty minutes later they finally reached the extraction point, and, fortunately, the Falcon was still there waiting for them.
It was a hulking piece of machinery—approximately ninety feet long with a passenger capacity of fifty-five, plus two crewmen and a pilot. Falcons were used to transport troops, supplies, and vehicles to wherever they needed to be. They were also exceptionally handy in a firefight, being armed with two missile launchers and a couple of massive machine guns.
Alpha Team stood guard outside the dropship as the civilians piled in, waited until they heard the aircraft’s engines whirr to life, and then climbed aboard.
Knoble spun around when a familiar screech split the air and he looked out from the cabin to see two Skysealers tearing through the clouds, heading straight for the Falcon.
Knoble pounded his hand on the dropship’s titanium hull. “Screamers at twelve o’clock! Get this bird in the sky!”
“Working on it,” the pilot responded.
When the hatch closed, the Lieutenant pushed out the side compartment and raised the turret. He firmly grasped the gun and prepared to fire on the enemy aircraft if they flew within range.
The Falcon pushed forward, picking up speed and lifting off the pavement. It rapidly gained altitude, but it wasn’t fast enough—the Skysealers were closing in on their target.
Knoble opened fire.
Shields flared and dissipated. Black smoke and bolts of electricity burst out from one craft’s thrusters. It fell behind its partner, banked left and disappeared behind the skyscrapers.
The second craft’s cannons sputtered and spat out a stream of high-velocity rounds which pummeled the Falcon’s hatch. The crytal left gleaming indentations and red-hot ripples in the hull where the metal had started to melt.
They eventually lost the clingy bastard in a maze of high-rise apartments and office buildings, and ascended into the clouds.
Knoble stepped away from the machine gun and closed the compartment, then turned to the screen on the wall opposite him that showed the city they were leaving behind. The feed was being transmitted from the dropship’s aft cameras.
Something on the display caught his attention and he tried to focus on it.
Waves of heat radiated from the eastern side of Masahi City, flowing outward, and then a purple-white light swelled up like a goddamned second sun—bright enough that it forced him to shield his eyes—and Knoble watched in horror as the unmistakable blast of a T-31 Drocain bomb followed. The city began to collapse, melting under the deathly high heat.
“Jesus Christ!” Bennett exclaimed. “Those bastards blew up half the city!”
Thousands of lives lost in mere seconds . . . and there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. Alpha Team had managed to save forty-seven civilians. It wasn’t a terribly great number, but it was still something.
How many made it out? he wondered. He would have to wait until the Falcon arrived at its destination to find out.
The image of a UNPD Phoenix-Class frigate called Rain of Fire took up the screens in the Falcon’s cabin. The charcoal-colored vessel’s name was painted on its flanks in gold lettering.
This particular ship had received some special treatment over the last few years. According to the records, it was one of the oldest frigates in the Navy and she’d certainly obtained a fair number of battle scars in her time. Though it didn’t matter how many times the old thing had had to be patched up, she’d always come back stronger than ever.
“UNPD Rain of Fire, this is Charlie-zero-three-niner requesting permission to board.” The Falcon’s pilot spoke through the microphone in the cockpit.
One of the frigate’s bridge crew responded without delay. “Copy that, Charlie-zero-three-niner. Bay doors opening now. Quick and steady, pilot. Bring ‘er home.”
The Falcon entered the hangar bay and slowed, shuddering slightly as the clamps came up from the deck and secured the aircraft. The dropship’s hatch slid open. Alpha Team exited the cabin and dodged the medical team that rushed up with white cases and stretchers in hand, ready to hustle injured civilians off to the med-bay.
More than half the people Alpha had rescued from Masahi were injured, some could hardly even walk, but the worst case had been the little boy with the crytal burns.
Knoble caught the eye of the boy’s mother as she walked out into the hangar at the head of the group, her daughter hugging her leg as she threw glances around the bay. She was obviously worried, still scared, but she looked more hopeful now and she smiled at the Lieutenant. He smiled back and then turned around when another woman addressed him.
“Lieutenant Knoble.” She had dark red hair which she’d pulled back tightly into a neat bun and wore a gray-green uniform. On her breast pocket was a lieutenant commander’s rank insignia and a name tag that read JENNIFER O’MALLEY. “The Captain has requested your presence on the bridge.”
Knoble complied and O’Malley escorted him to the elevator at the back of the hangar. They soon arrived on the main deck and traveled through several long hallways before finally stopping in front of the bridge doors.
O’Malley tapped a code into the panel on the left, the doors opened, and she told him to head inside.
Knoble walked onto the rubberized deck.
Nearly every wall had a screen. A holographic display table sat a few meters inside the doorway and a silver railing ringed the lower area of the bridge where Captain Scott Nicholas sat in front of the command console. The digital avatar of a woman—the Rain of Fire’s shipboard AI Catherine—hovered above a pedestal to the right of the console. She motioned to the Lieutenant, alerting the Captain of his arrival.
Captain Nicholas turned his chair around and Knoble stood at attention, raising his hand to his forehead in a sharp salute.
Nicholas rose and spoke around the cigar he held firmly in his lips. “At ease, Lieutenant.” He beckoned the soldier down the steps to the lower deck. “Commander O’Malley tells me you sacrificed your mission to save a bunch of civilians. Is that correct?”
“Yes, sir,” Knoble said, not sure if he had gotten himself into trouble by abandoning the task. It had been an important mission—Priority One—but when Alpha Team came across those civilians in the city, they knew that leaving them there wasn’t an option.
“It was a job well done. After what happened with that bomb down there, you probably wouldn’t have made it to your objective in the end anyway. Saving those civilians was the right decision. We need everyone we can get right now. Not even Admiral Anderson can disagree with that, the cocky bastard.” He inhaled a lungful of smoke, pulled the cigar from his mouth, and blew it out. “If we’d known the Drocain would lead an assault on Masahi we would have been able to save more, but the lizards arrived in orbit without warning. On the upside, I’ve got six thousand civvies onboard. That’s a fine number.”
“It certainly is,” Knoble agreed, speculating what might have happened had he and his team carried on with their mission; wondering if what they’d been searching for could have somehow saved more lives.
“Captain,” Catherine said with trepidation. “We are being hailed by a Drocain assault carrier!”
Captain Nicholas threw a look over his shoulder at the AI, turning back to the console. “Where from?”
“Below us, sir. They just left Anahk. It seems they were waiting for us to leave orbit.”
Nicholas chewed
on the end of his cigar. “Maybe they’ll apologize for blowing our city to pieces.” He smirked. “Put ‘em through, Catherine. Let’s see what the bastards have to say.”
“Aye, aye.”
The screen projected on the viewport window went blank for a second and then quickly filled with a new image—the shadowy bridge of a Drocain carrier. And in the center of the screen was the ship’s Leh’kin commander. One side of his helmet was severely damaged, twisted out of shape and charred. His combat harness was the same.
The alien lay a cold stare on Captain Nicholas, the glow cast upward from his command console only making him look more intimidating.
“Greetings, human.” His words were heavy with an accent that made him sound like a highly sophisticated Englishman. “I am Levian ’Nher, ship commander of the Legacy of Night.”
“Cut the formal bullshit and get to the point. I know you didn’t call to say hello,” Nicholas muttered impatiently. He either didn't care if he jabbed a few nerves, or he didn’t realize he was treading on dangerous ground.
The UNPD had once taken a stab at holding civilized discussions with their enemies but they quickly learned it had no effect on the situation; so after many failed attempts, they decided formal conversations weren’t worth their time. Jumping in head-first with weapons blazing generated better results, and that was the unfortunate truth.
Nicholas’ attitude angered the Ship Commander, whose lips twitched with irritation. “Stupidity radiates strongly from your species, Captain,” he growled. “Today alone, six of your ships have ventured beyond our lines. All were following your direct orders and were destroyed. Despite this, four more operating under the same commands have been discovered. I suggest you call them back before I tear them apart.”
It wasn’t uncommon for Drocain commanders to throw threats and verbal abuse humanity’s way, but something about this didn’t feel right. The usual bashings were made up of insults and gruesome narratives describing the forthcoming deaths of their victims. But this felt more professional, more like an attempt to keep nosy persons away from top-secret undertakings.
Captain Nicholas was silent for a few minutes, thinking long and hard about his response.
Knoble focused solely on Nicholas, wanting to soak up every bit of what he had to say. Like the alien ship commander, he, too, was curious as to why Nicholas was sending ships over enemy lines. But if he couldn’t figure out what was going on from the Captain’s closely guarded words, he would probably never know and it would bother him for months to come.
“Well?” Levian prompted.
“We are at war. Those ships were sent over there for good reason, and this conversation only proves my suspicions correct. You’re hiding something on that moon, aren’t you? What is it, a weapon of mass destruction?”
“What is happening on Ske’vir is strictly the business of the royalty caste.” The Ship Commander’s slender fingers drummed on the arm of his gravity throne. “You have yet to give me the answer I seek, human. Are your thoughts caught in a maelstrom? Perhaps the Legacy of Night can be of service.”
“I gave you your answer.”
“And it was unclear,” the alien said. “I do not have the patience to deal with this ignorant behavior of yours. You have ten seconds to comply or I will open fire on your ship!”
“What the hell’s stopping you?” Captain Nicholas looked to the console where the ship’s AI was still standing and waiting for orders. The two of them exchanged a nod and Catherine’s avatar vanished.
“So be it,” the Ship Commander hissed angrily, then killed the connection.
The screen went blank, then cut to the video feeds provided by the starboard cameras which showed that the Drocain assault carrier had changed its course and was now heading straight for the Rain of Fire.
“The enemy is charging cannons,” Catherine reported over the bridge speakers. “And as much as I hate to make you worry, Captain . . . we have new contacts slipping in.”
“How many?” Nicholas returned to his chair.
“Seven.”
“Classification?”
“Standard formation with an escort. Three cruisers, two destroyers, a corvette, and a Royalty-Class Supercruiser. They're coming in right over our heads. Beginning evasive maneuvers now.”
Nicholas swore under his breath. “Contact Admiral Anderson and see if we can get some reinforcements out here. We don’t have enough firepower or the armor capacity to hold out against that many ships, and I’ll be on a straight course to hell if we lose Anahk today.” He clicked the intercom. “All hands to battle stations!”
Knoble grabbed onto the railings to keep his balance as the frigate lurched forward. A shudder ran through the deck, bridge lights dimmed, and the impact alarm wailed.
“Hull breach detected in decks four, six, and eight!” Catherine said. “Thirteen seconds until collision with incoming enemy vessel. I’m doing what I can, but I don’t think I can get us clear.”
“Keep trying!” Nicholas ordered. “Lieutenant Briggs, arm all Viper missile pods. Catherine, bring us about heading zero eight zero. Reactors to one hundred percent. Lieutenant Moreau, arm the MAC cannons.”
“Viper missiles armed,” Lieutenant Briggs said.
“Fire pods A through F.”
Knoble watched the screen. The white-hot capsules of Viper missiles bolted into the black, gaining speed. They swerved upward, arced high, and came down hard on the bow of the alien assault carrier.
The carrier’s shields flared over her hull and flickered, weakened by the blast.
“Fire remaining missile pods!” Nicholas barked.
More missiles streamed and took down the vessel’s shields. But the MAC gun was only at seventy percent charge, giving the enemy an opportunity to attack.
The Legacy of Night came around and bombarded the frigate with her crytal cannons.
“Response from the Admiral,” Catherine said. “He is sending battle groups Fifth and Charlie-Seven our way. ETA: forty minutes. Advising we deploy aircraft units to hold off enemy vessels until we’re able to make a jump.”
“Do it.” Captain Nicholas turned to Lieutenant Knoble, looked him up and down, then asked, “You’ve piloted a Warhawk before, haven’t you, Lieutenant?”
“Sir?” Knoble murmured inquiringly. He had piloted a Warhawk, yes—but that was nearly five years ago, and in those five years, they had gone through a number of extensive upgrades. Experienced pilots had had to undergo secondary training courses in order to fly the damn things.
Nicholas tapped his cigar on the rim of an ashtray. “I’d like you to get out there with the other birds. Take the elevator down to the hangar and suit up.”
When the Lieutenant jogged through the hangar doors he was met by waves of heat rolling off the thrusters of the UNPD spacecraft parked ahead of him. It was, along with many of the other Warhawks, prepping for takeoff.
Knoble walked over to a gathering of pilots fully clad in vacuum-proof gear. They guided him to the locker room and gave him his own sleek suit, then ushered him into a docked Warhawk. One of the pilots went over the controls, and guaranteed Knoble he would grow accustomed to the system within a few minutes of flight.
Warhawks were the fastest starfighters in the United Nations Planetary Defense. Manufactured by Nine Gates Armory, they were heavily fortified with titanium armor plating and energy shield generators.
Soon enough, the hangar bay doors gave way to wide-open space. The Lieutenant started up his starfighter, the controls flashed green across the board, and the engine let out a whine as it came to life.
The Warhawks launched from the deck all at once and the first thing Knoble saw was the looming shape of the Drocain Royalty-Class vessel sitting over the top of the Rain of Fire. The huge ship released a volley of crytal on the much smaller human frigate, hammering its hull relentlessly.
This is going to be one hell of an uneven battle . . . And if Fifth and Charlie-Seven didn’t get there soon, there wouldn’
t even be a battle left for them to fight.
Chapter
———FOUR———
1210 Hours, December 01, 2438 (Earth Calendar) / Masahi City, planet Anahk
“Strip the human ship stem to stern! Bring them back to Anahk’s surface! If their love for this world is so strong . . . then the disgraceful creatures can burn with it.”
Kenon’s headset had been picking up transmissions from the Drocain fleet in orbit for quite a while now, but he was trying his best to ignore them and keep his attention on the task at hand.
He and his squadmates—whom he’d managed to track down after finding his way out of the underground railroad—were currently searching through piles upon piles of rubble for the source of the anomaly that’d been detected earlier.
The assignment’s difficulty level had increased after another squad planted a bomb and obliterated more than fifty percent of Masahi City, reducing it to a sagging mess of metal, concrete, and glass. The melted materials had since hardened and it was nearly impossible to break through them without the proper equipment.
Kenon knew how important this mission was—Suro had made a point of reminding him every hour or so. But he wanted to be out on the battlefield fighting alongside his fellow warriors, not stuck here digging through debris—this was ridiculous! It could take them days to search the area entirely, and they weren’t sure exactly what it was they were looking for.
But when Phero called out, a small spark of hope ignited within him. Kenon and Suro hurried over and joined their squad leader where he was standing atop a mountain of crumbled concrete and metal beams.
“I have located the source of the anomaly,” Phero announced, slinging his weapon over his shoulder. “It is approximately seven meters below us.”
“And how do you suppose we will reach it?” Suro hissed unenthusiastically. “We would need a cannon to blast through this heap. I say we leave the job to another squad, get out of this city and go do something more productive.”
The Calypsis Project Page 5