Ep.#15 - That Which Other Men Cannot Do (The Frontiers Saga)

by Ryk Brown

  “Pitching up,” Josh said as he pulled the ship into a forty-five-degree climb and added power to maintain airspeed.

  “Falcon Two, popping two.”

  “Chasers have acquired,” Loki said. “Ten seconds.”

  “Jumping,” Josh announced as he pushed the selector switch on top of his flight control stick forward and pressed the execute button.

  The windows of the Super Falcon’s cockpit turned opaque for a brief moment. Josh pulled his throttles back to zero thrust, rolled the ship inverted, and pushed their nose down onto an intercept course with the four Jung fighters passing far below them.

  “Five seconds,” Loki reported. “They’re taking evasive actions.”

  Josh watched their altitude rapidly decrease, moving the jump range select dial one click at a time to match their decreasing altitude.

  “Impact! One down, the second one is breaking to the east and climbing.”

  Josh rolled slightly right and altered his angle of dive before initiating the next jump. When the cockpit windows cleared, the fleeing Jung fighter was passing right in front of him at a range of less than one hundred meters. Josh squeezed the gun trigger on his flight control stick, sending a pair of plasma blasts from their wing cannons into the target, causing it to explode. “Two down,” he said as he rolled right and leveled off, adding power again to maintain airspeed.

  “Falcon Two. Two down.”

  “Two, One,” Loki replied. “All four targets are destroyed. Local threat board is clear. Join up on us. We’ll make a few wide perimeter sweeps to make sure before joining the others.”

  “Two copies. Rejoining.”

  “Now this is the kind of liberation I like,” Josh declared. “Jump in, blow some shit up, kill a few fighters… Easy as pie.”

  “I thought it was easy as cake?” Loki wondered.

  “No. The expression is, ‘A piece of cake’.”

  “Where does the pie fit in?”

  Josh shook his head. “You’re hopeless.”

  The rear cargo ramp lowered as the troop shuttle touched down in the open field just south of what was once the Jung troop base on Adlair. The shuttle’s engines immediately began to wind down to idle as troops began pouring out the back, spreading out right and left as they left the ramp.

  Biorgi followed the man in front of him, turning right once his boots hit the crunchy, tan-colored soil of Adlair. Energy weapons fire could barely be heard in the distance over the sound of the shuttle’s four, massive engine pods.

  As soon as the last man left the ramp, the shuttle’s engines spun back up, lifting the ship into the air. She climbed slowly, accelerating forward as her aft cargo ramp raised up into its fully closed position. A moment after the ramp closed, the troop shuttle disappeared in a blue-white flash of light against the topaz morning sky.

  With the shuttle gone, the sound of energy weapons fire was more noticeable. In fact, it was growing louder with every step. Biorgi continued to follow his platoon leader, Ghatazhak Sergeant Lazo, toward the dissipating cloud of dust and smoke that their forces had encircled.

  After running for a few minutes, Biorgi saw Sergeant Lazo raise his hand and then drop it, signaling them to hit the ground. Biorgi did as instructed, assuming a prone position, his weapon aimed in the direction of the devastated Jung troop base. He looked at his tactical display. Stretched out from side to side were both blue and red icons…more red ones than blue. They were oriented along the horizon. Biorgi thought the commands, causing his visor to zoom in directly ahead so he could see the targets in greater detail. He could scarcely make out the Ghatazhak, in their menacing, flat-black combat armor, as they attacked the line of Jung soldiers. The enemy was easier to distinguish. They wore the traditional dark gray uniforms and armor, with the red trim that the Jung seemed to favor. Many of them were unarmored, appearing to have been caught by surprise by the orbital bombardment that all but leveled their base.

  The enemy soldiers took cover behind fallen structures and chunks of tan-colored concrete that had been strewn about by the rail gun impacts. They tried to create a coherent defensive line, but the Ghatazhak were too aggressive, too precise. The black-clad soldiers continued to press forward, their line finally merging with that of the enemy.

  Biorgi took aim at a Jung soldier with a red icon on him and checked his range… Too far.

  “Squads One and Two, move left one hundred meters,” the sergeant ordered. “Seven and Eight, move one hundred right. The rest of you fan out evenly between them in groups of two squads.”

  Biorgi rose to his knees, his weapon still aimed toward the battle, waiting for those members of his squad to his left to move. Then he got to his feet and followed them, in a running crouch, for one hundred meters, before falling back down onto his stomach.

  He looked back toward the engagement zone. Getting up and running had caused his tactical display to zoom back out to zero magnification, so again, Biorgi thought the commands to zoom in. He picked another target and took aim. He was still too far to guarantee a kill, but it was better to be ready.

  “First Platoon,” Sergeant Lazo’s voice called over Biorgi’s helmet comms. “Move forward to optimum firing range and take up firing positions. Move, move, move!”

  Again Biorgi rose, and again his tactical display automatically reverted to normal magnification. He followed his squad leader, as did the rest of his squad, and the second squad behind them. In a crouch, with their weapons still trained on the engagement area toward which they ran, they moved briskly across the uneven, jagged terrain of Adlair. The sound of energy weapons grew louder with each crunch of their boots. Red energy bolts slammed into the tan soil in front of them, sending bits and pieces of the moon spraying into them as they ran. One of the bolts slammed into the man next to him. Biorgi stopped in his tracks, spinning around to look at his fallen comrade. His instinct was to help him, but he realized that he was beyond help. Half his face was gone, along with the side of his head…all of it neatly cauterized by the Jung energy blast that had taken the marine’s life.

  Biorgi felt someone shove him forward, urging him on, and he complied. Seconds later, that same man who had shoved him forward toward the battle also fell to enemy fire, his right leg and hip melted away and still burning as the man screamed in agony. Biorgi spun around and saw that someone else had dropped to the man’s side to help him, followed by another. Biorgi spun around and continued to charge forward into the battle.

  Finally, his squad leader fell to the ground, as did the rest of his squad and the squad behind him. Biorgi quickly took aim, checking the range on his tactical display. We’re still too far. Biorgi looked toward his squad leader. He was lying on his belly, his weapon oddly aimed. He wasn’t moving. Biorgi willed his display to zoom in, and he immediately saw smoke rising from his squad leader’s unmoving body. The man nearest him reached out and shook the squad leader, but got no response. Biorgi could see the panic on the man’s face, unsure of what to do as Jung energy weapons fire, most of it errant shots that had missed the Ghatazhak soldiers, continued to impact into the dirt around them.

  Biorgi rose to his feet again. “Squad One! Continue forward!” he ordered, signaling with his left arm toward the battle. Biorgi continued his charge forward, jumping over the body of the dead squad leader and the soldier still shaking him. He maintained his crouched run, his weapon up and held tightly against his shoulder, ready to fire, as he had been trained to do, watching the range readout on his tactical display as it counted down. Red bolts of energy streaked past him, first to his right, then to his left. Others slammed into the dirt in front of him, sending bits of tan soil flying into his face as he charged forward.

  Finally, his range display changed from red to orange. A few seconds later, it turned green. Biorgi hit the ground again. He quickly willed his visor to zoom in, and he picked his first target…and fired. His weapon sounded, recoiling sharply against his shoulder. The magnification setting on his visor allowed him to clearl
y see the blood spraying from the target’s armpit, as his first shot grazed the uncovered area just above the Jung soldier’s chest armor. He willed his visor to zoom in a bit more, and placed his aiming dot onto the enemy soldier’s abdomen, and squeezed his trigger again. The second round easily pierced the Jung soldier’s weaker abdominal cover, sending copious amounts of blood and tissue spraying out to either side from under the enemy soldier’s armor. The man fell to his knees, after which a blast from a Ghatazhak energy weapon robbed him of his head.

  Biorgi paused in shock and disbelief. Today was not his first combat action, and it was not the first time that he had fired his weapon. But the liberation of 82 Eridani had been far easier, as he had been in the second wave, not the first. He had not even fired his weapon in anger that day. Today, he had killed a man.

  It was time to kill more.

  Biorgi mentally adjusted his visor’s magnification, then picked another target and fired. A head shot, passing just under the Jung soldier’s visor and striking him in the right cheek. The man fell backward, exposing his unprotected groin as he writhed in pain. Another shot put an end to his suffering.

  Biorgi continued to pick targets, dropping them one by one…sometimes with a single shot, sometimes with two. He missed a few, but not many, and within minutes, it was over. The Ghatazhak forward line had broken through, and was engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the few Jung soldiers who remained.

  “First Platoon! Cease fire!” Sergeant Lazo called over Biorgi’s helmet comms. “Move in to secure the perimeter. No one gets out alive.”

  Biorgi rose to his feet. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his face. He looked around, noticing that the rest of his squad was waiting for him to move forward before they followed.

  Today, he felt like a marine.

  “Frigate two is destroyed,” Mister Navashee announced from the Aurora’s sensor station.

  “Take us about to reengage that battle platform,” Nathan ordered.

  “Coming about, aye.”

  “How are our shields doing?” Nathan asked his systems officer.

  “Starboard forward, and all bow shields are back up to sixty-two percent,” the systems officer replied. “If you can keep their big guns off them for a few minutes, they’ll get back up to full power.”

  “On our next run, we’ll jump in at ten clicks, fire two salvos into the unshielded side of her core, where arm four used to be,” Nathan explained. “Then we’ll pitch our nose down relative, say forty-five, and jump in close to pass with our bow shields away from her. We’ll start by showing her our port side, where our shields are currently strongest.” He turned back toward Jessica. “Hit them with quads and broadside cannons as we pass. Your firing window will be short, twenty seconds at the most, so don’t get fancy, just fire away at her and hope for the best.”

  “Aye, sir,” Jessica replied.

  Nathan turned forward. “We’ll make two passes the same way, but from different angles. That should give our starboard and bow shields a chance to reach full power. Then we can alternate sides with each pass. Left, center, right.”

  “Coming to jump point now,” Mister Riley reported.

  “Take us in,” Nathan ordered.

  “Jumping.”

  The blue-white jump flash washed over the bridge, and the image of the wounded Jung battle platform again filled the center main view screen. Even from ten kilometers away, she was visible without magnification, bathed in the light of Eta Cassiopeiae.

  “Firing all forward tubes,” Jessica announced.

  The bridge flashed a reddish-orange momentarily as the plasma charges left the Aurora.

  “Helm, nose down forty-five, roll ninety to starboard,” Nathan ordered.

  “Down forty-five and ninety to starboard,” Mister Chiles replied.

  The image of the distant Jung battle platform began to rotate as it slid from the center of the main view screen, up and to their left, disappearing off the left side of the view screen.

  “Maneuver complete,” the helmsman replied seconds later.

  “Jump us in close,” Nathan commanded.

  “Jumping.”

  Again, the blue-white flash of the jump washed over them.

  “Contacts!” Mister Navashee warned.

  “Firing quads and broadside cannons!” Jessica reported.

  “The other two frigates!” Mister Navashee continued.

  “Damn it!” Nathan swore.

  “They’re locking missiles on us!”

  “Mister Riley, prepare to escape jump…”

  “They’re firing missiles! Impact in twenty…”

  “Point-defenses!” Nathan ordered.

  “All point-defenses are engaging!”

  “How many?” Nathan snapped.

  “Twenty-four inbound!” Mister Navashee replied. “Make that twenty…eighteen… Ten seconds. They’re reloading their launchers. Incoming rail gun fire from the battle… JUMP FLASH! It’s the Celestia!”

  The bridge shook as more rail gun rounds from the battle platform’s massive guns pounded the Aurora’s port shields.

  “She’s firing on the frigates!” Mister Navashee reported in glee.

  “I can’t get them all!” Jessica warned.

  “Snap jump!” Nathan ordered.

  The jump flash was building before the order left the captain’s mouth.

  “Jump complete,” Mister Riley announced.

  “Bring us back around for another pass,” Nathan ordered. “Mister Navashee, what’s the status of those other two frigates?”

  “One moment, sir,” the sensor operator replied. “They’re thirty light seconds out, now.”

  “Damage reports?”

  “Port shields down to sixty percent,” the system officer replied.

  “No reports from damage control,” Naralena added.

  “Jump flash,” Mister Navashee reported. “It’s the Celestia, again.”

  “Incoming transmission from Celestia Actual,” Naralena announced.

  “Put her on,” Nathan replied gladly.

  “Aurora Actual, Celestia Actual,” Cameron’s voice called over the loudspeakers.

  Nathan felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Go ahead, Captain,” he replied.

  “Sorry it took us so long,” Cameron said. “We had a troop base to squash.”

  “No problem. Your timing couldn’t have been better.”

  “I assume you have a plan to bring down that platform?”

  “Swinging hammer? Say…split twenties, high and low, odds and evens?”

  “Sounds good,” Cameron replied. “You want odds or evens to start?”

  “Odds, of course. We’ll drop our targeting markers with each pass. Once we bring down another arm, we’ll have a big enough gap in her shields to take her out once and for all.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Just keep your time in the zone short, Captain. Her big guns are a bitch.”

  “Understood. Celestia Actual, out.”

  Commander Telles walked along the perimeter of the rubble that was once the Jung troop base on Adlair. Bodies of the dead were everywhere. Most of the troops who had been housed in the base had undoubtedly perished in the orbital bombardment that leveled the facility. Those who he saw before him were the ones who escaped the initial attack, only to find themselves fighting for their lives against a Ghatazhak onslaught that took them with equal surprise.

  Commander Telles looked to his master sergeant as the man approached, a captive Jung officer following behind him, escorted by two Ghatazhak soldiers. “Casualties?”

  “Two Ghatazhak injured, none killed,” Master Sergeant Jahal reported. “Fourteen marines dead, twenty-two injured. They fought bravely. Without their supportive fire, our own casualties might have been higher.”

  “And the enemy body count?”

  “Their force strength was estimated at ten thousand. This is the only survivor that we have found. So…”

  Commander Telles stepped
up to the officer, pausing to study the young man’s rank insignia. “You are a major, are you not?”

  “I am,” the Jung officer replied proudly.

  Commander Telles looked him over more carefully. “You are of command rank. A leader of warriors. Your base lies in ruins, your men dead, and yet, you have nary a scratch on your person. How is that?”

  “He was in a secure bunker under the rubble,” Master Sergeant Jahal sneered. “Hiding like a coward.”

  “You have made a grave error,” the Jung major warned the commander. “The battle platform will send gunships, troops… You will be outnumbered, and you will not have the element of surprise on your side.” The major leaned forward, seething with anger. “You will all die.”

  “The battle platform?” the commander replied. The cheers of marines, as well as gasps of disbelief of the many locals who had come to see the destruction, caught their attention. Commander Telles and the others turned and looked skyward, like all the rest. Far above them was a massive explosion of a very distant, and very large, object.

  “That battle platform?” the commander said, a small smile forming on the corner of his mouth. “I think not.” He stared at the major for a moment, then turned back to his master sergeant. “Transfer him back to Porto Santo for interrogation.”

  “Who are you people?” the major asked.

  “We, are the Alliance,” Commander Telles replied. “And we are the means to your end.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Can’t they just build more of the damned things?” Josh complained. “I thought we were combat pilots. Now we’re flying ordnance retrieval missions?”

  “What’s the big deal, Josh?” Loki wondered as he studied his sensor console on the right side of the Super Falcon’s cockpit. “It isn’t that difficult of a mission.”

  “Excuse me,” Josh disagreed. “Those things are designed to blow up after they miss, aren’t they?”

  “Only if they do not receive an abort signal within twenty-four hours of missing their target.”