“It’s going to be tight,” said Vega. “Think we can pull it off?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” said Li, saving McKinney the bother of saying the same thing.
The door in front rumbled open, allowing the men access to a wide flight of stairs so pristine it appeared as if they had never seen the underside of a human foot. They started up.
“There’s too much that can go wrong,” growled McKinney, giving voice to his main worry.
“What in particular, Lieutenant?” asked Jeb Whitlock. “Seems like everything is straightforward to me.”
“What planet are you on, Whitlock?”
“Well, the way I see it, we’ve been through plenty of shit and still come up smelling like a bouquet of flowers you’d be happy to give to the mother-in-law.”
It was suddenly clear that Whitlock was actually looking for reassurance and hiding it behind a fake wall of confidence.
“There’s always been comms, soldier,” McKinney replied. “That’s what makes the difference. If something went wrong, or we had to change something, we could manage it. This time?” He thumped the grey wall. “We’ve been given an instruction and sent on our way. If something goes wrong or there’s a forced deviation, we’ve got no way to recover.”
“Even with the comms this would be a crappy job,” said Garcia.
“I’m kinda looking forward to it,” said Vega.
They reached a landing, with a single exit door and a single access panel. McKinney stepped up to it. The door was three metres high and wide. He pressed his palm against the access plate.
“Haven’t you been on one before?” he asked.
“Only in the simulator, Lieutenant. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in the flesh. What about you?”
“I’ve not driven one since I got my license.” McKinney grinned. “That was three years ago. They’ve done a complete overhaul since then.”
“You sure you can cope?” asked Bannerman.
“Absolutely.”
The door split along an imperceptible seam down the middle and the two parts retracted into the frame. The men crossed the threshold into the OSF warehouse area. In the strictest sense it wasn’t exactly a warehouse, though it did contain one object. This was the place where the shaped Obsidiar was brought from the huge storage space deep below. The ceiling wasn’t as high as might have been expected if one had seen the OSF from the outside. The reason for this was the thickness of the roof, which was strong enough to withstand a direct strike from a Shimmer missile.
The floor of the warehouse was similarly robust and made from the same material used to lay the base landing strip. As far as construction went, the OSF was as strong as it could be without using a few billion tonnes of hardened Gallenium.
“There it is,” said the squad medic Amy Sandoval. “I try to save lives and they build shit like this to take them away.”
“You’re in the wrong job,” said McKinney.
“I think you’re right.”
The Colossus tank was the Space Corps’ deadliest ground-based weapon and as far as McKinney was aware, this was the only example on the Tucson base. Each one cost as much to build as a Crimson class destroyer and it wasn’t hard to see why.
This particular model was eighty metres long, twenty-five wide and twenty tall, and it hovered silently one metre above the ground. It was angular and with a long, sloping front made to deflect incoming artillery shells. There wasn’t a single word to describe its overall shape, though multi-planed, flat-backed trapezoid would more or less cover it. With a crapload of guns and an Obsidiar core.
There were grey-painted words on the side of the tank, skilfully added so they were clear whichever angle you looked at them. Here I Stand.
“How much heat is that thing packing?” asked Vega in wonder.
The main turret was indistinguishable from the upper section and the thirty-metre barrel poked out like a thick pipe with the power to flatten a city. Behind the turret were two shoulder-mounted plasma launchers that could hit a spaceship in orbit. In addition, there was a massive chaingun set back a few metres from the nose, with its own protective turret. There were two minigun turrets mounted where the flank and the rear angles joined.
“Why are those turrets pointing at us?” asked Whitlock.
Li gave him a push. “It can smell your fear.”
“There’s a lot more than you can see from the outside,” said McKinney.
“Can it fly?” asked Clifton.
“No.”
“Pfft,” Clifton replied in mock derision. He pointed at the bands of explosives with which he had festooned himself. “Bet I could crack it open.”
“Bet you couldn’t,” said McKinney.
They jogged across the floor of the warehouse. The cover for the central gravity lift was sealed and they crossed over it. The metal was thick and McKinney didn’t hear any change in the sound of his footsteps. He felt invigorated by the sight of the Colossus tank and he ran faster, reaching it ahead of the others.
There was a side access door, at the end of a two-metre-deep alcove in the tank’s armour, with a twin-rung metal ladder the only assistance to reach it. McKinney pulled himself up and held his hand on the access panel for a long moment. The thrum of the tank’s gravity engine through his palm greeted him like an old friend.
“Are you sure you’re able to get into this thing, Lieutenant?” asked Munoz.
With a hiss of breaking seals, and backup mechanical locks, the door slid to the left. McKinney turned and smiled at the others.
The inner airlock was red-lit and cramped. The ceiling was low enough that McKinney had to keep his neck bent, though the factory had thoughtfully put a layer of industrial rubber up there to minimise skull damage from the inevitable accidents.
The ten soldiers McKinney had brought with him clambered up one at a time. The human occupants of all Space Corps tanks were apparently of secondary importance to squeezing in as much extra hardware as possible. It was a tight fit and they filled the space before McKinney had got the inner airlock door opened.
“Who’s grabbing my balls?” asked Li. “Is it you, Garcia?”
“Piss off.”
In the scrum, a gauss rifle went off.
“Who the hell was that?” shouted McKinney, before the concern kicked in. “Anyone hurt?”
By some miracle, the gauss slug had struck the ceiling dead-on and the flattened metal disk had dropped harmlessly to the floor.
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” said Roldan. “I think that might have been me.”
“Let’s have a bit more care.”
The inner door opened with the same reassuringly solid noise as the outer one. There was a small ante-chamber beyond, with another low ceiling and a single passage – only just wide enough for two to pass - leading deeper into the tank. The lights were a cold blue, the air smelled of metal and the sound of the engine was rougher here – almost coarse. McKinney set off along the passage.
“Close that door behind you!” His voice was lost in the metal walls, like the words were absorbed by the immense weight of the vehicle.
After a few paces, he reached opposite doors – one leading to the cockpit and the other to the personnel area. Ahead, the passage continued until it reached the entry doorway in the other flank. There were a couple of emergency exits elsewhere and McKinney hoped he wouldn’t be using them.
The cockpit door opened onto another short passage and took him into the business end of the tank. There was seating for four, each seat dressed with a cloth covering that appeared to have been pre-torn and stained by special request of the Space Corps, to ensure its soldiers didn’t get a liking for nice things. The rest of the room was taken up by screens and a wraparound console that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a Fleet Admiral’s holiday home.
McKinney got himself comfortable and started bringing everything online. The Colossus tank was intended as a last line of defence for the Obsidiar Storage Facility and it was
therefore kept in a state of readiness.
“Are we ready to rock and roll?” asked Li, dredging up another from his lexicon of Old Earth sayings.
“Five minutes.”
“How’s the control core?”
“Something’s dragging it down. It’s not stopping the green lights on everything we need.”
Li dropped himself into the weapons control seat. Roldan was trained in navigation, Bannerman in both comms and backup navigation.
“Not much for me to do, huh?” Bannerman laughed, putting his hands behind his head. “What with the comms being dead and all.”
“Keep an ear out for Lieutenant Cruz.”
“You expecting her to ask you on a date, Lieutenant?” asked Roldan.
It was an open joke amongst the men and McKinney gritted his teeth.
“How about I tie you to the main barrel, Roldan?”
“Hey, I was just asking, you know?”
In reality, there was plenty for Bannerman to do, since he was partly responsible for working the tank’s sensors, alongside Roldan.
“We’ve got everyone seated out the back,” said Li.
The tank’s main systems booted up into a state of combat readiness. There was a chunk of Obsidiar somewhere in the centre of the hull, large enough to power the whole lot if needed. The only shame was that the scientists hadn’t figured out how to miniaturise the energy shield generators enough to fit one of those to the tank. Can’t have it all, thought McKinney.
At last, the All Systems Operational: 100% message came up on McKinney’s screen. He lowered his visor and checked how long was left on the timer he’d set.
“We’re running late.”
“We’re always on time,” said Li.
“I’m opening the inner door,” said McKinney.
The warehouse was protected by an inner and an outer door, each rumoured to be a modified warship armour plate. As far as he was aware, McKinney was the only person currently in the OSF who could open these doors. It didn’t stop him sweating while he waited for movement.
“Here we go,” he said, breathing out.
The tank’s front sensor showed the inner door sliding into the floor. There was a space between the doors which was large enough for the tank - if it went in at an angle - and McKinney took hold of the simple-looking control joysticks. He pushed both forward, expecting a gradual response from the gravity engines. Instead, the walls of the cockpit shook and tank shot forwards.
“Whoa!” McKinney said, pulling quickly back on the sticks.
“Faster than you were expecting?” asked Li.
“It must be all that Obsidiar.”
It only took a few moments for McKinney’s confidence to return. He brought the tank into the space between the two doors, stopping with the nose a few inches from the outer door. It wasn’t intended for both doors to be open at once and the four men waited impatiently while the inner door rose up from the floor. Once it was closed, the outer door descended.
“If there are any Vraxar out there, they’re going to get a surprise,” said Li.
The door vanished into the floor, revealing the gates for the perimeter wall two hundred metres away. Wherever the Vraxar were, it wasn’t here. McKinney gave the briefest look upwards. If Captain Blake was late, early or simply got himself shot down, this was going to be a short trip.
Even without the battleship, we might not cover more than five hundred metres.
With a sense of expectation and trepidation, McKinney prepared for action.
Chapter Twelve
There was a similar sense of expectation and trepidation amongst the crew of the ES Lucid. Captain Blake wasn’t known for doubt, yet he could feel it growing within him as each moment of inactivity passed by.
“How long?” he asked.
“Two minutes,” said Pointer.
The enemy battleship hadn’t moved from its position directly over the Tucson base. The dropship had landed forty minutes ago and continued disgorging its cargo of weapons and half-living soldiers, while Ix-Gorghal itself wasn’t due back for more than an hour. It was too much to hope that when they stuck their arm into the viper’s nest they would only get a single bite.
“Everyone ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
The plan was simple enough. At the agreed time, Blake would use the ES Lucid to lure the Vraxar battleship away from its stationary orbit. Meanwhile, McKinney would take the opportunity to push through to Fleet Admiral Duggan in the central administration building. Assuming Duggan was both alive and agreeable – and Blake had no idea if he was – then McKinney would do his best to fight his way to the Ulterior-2, in order for Duggan to bring the ship out of maintenance mode and inform its core cluster that it was in full service. Somewhere along the way, they’d see if there was any chance of putting Earth’s Fury to use.
Naturally, there were many things which could go wrong, though ultimately it was better to try than to sit back and await the inevitable. Blake told himself failure wasn’t an option.
“Let’s do this,” he said. “Activate the short-range transition.”
He sensed a tiny second of hesitation while the crew came to terms with their future.
“Activating,” said Quinn.
The ES Lucid’s fission engines threw the heavy cruiser inwards towards New Earth. They cut off almost immediately, leaving the warship a quarter of a million kilometres from the enemy vessel.
“Launching everything we’ve got,” said Hawkins.
She activated the weapons systems, unloading everything they could muster in the direction of the enemy warship. The Lucid’s Shimmer missiles raced ahead of the swarming Lambdas and a handful of Shatterer warheads.
“No response from the battleship,” said Quinn. “We must be out of beam weapon range.”
“Somehow I doubt it,” Blake replied.
He pressed a button on his console and felt the sudden surge of acceleration, which he quickly brought under control.
“Forty seconds to Shimmer impact.”
The Lucid didn’t have the firepower to crack open the Vraxar battleship’s shield in an open engagement. It wasn’t important – this was an exercise in pissing them off.
“Here come the missiles,” said Blake. The tactical screen was much smaller than he was used to.
Hawkins struggled to get a final tally. “Only six hundred. They’re faster than our Lambdas and slower than the others.” She scratched her head. “I think they’ve launched a few at the surface. I’ve got no idea what the hell they’re aiming those ones at.”
Not all of the Vraxar warships carried missiles, with most of them relying on beam weapons. Blake guessed the battleship had been chosen specifically because it was capable of precision bombing.
“If we take out some of those satellites it’ll be a bonus,” said Quinn.
“The Shimmers are good for it.”
“I’ve initiated our second Lambda launch, sir. Shimmers and Shatterers still reloading.”
At the last moment, the two Shimmer missiles turned sharply from their course. They split and twisted away from the battleship, hurtling with tremendous speed towards New Earth. Shimmers were the pinnacle of missile technology and they scored direct hits, each one detonating against a separate Vraxar satellite.
“Score!” shouted Pointer.
“Two satellites no longer on our sensors, sir.”
The remainder of the missiles flew onwards. Blake expected the enemy warship to be equipped with the same countermeasures as the other larger Vraxar craft. He was right – at the last moment, the battleship emitted a high-energy pulse which burst outwards in a huge sphere. The pulse wrecked the guidance systems of the inbound missiles, rendering them useless.
The Shatterers were far more robust. Four of them crashed against the enemy’s shield, whilst the remaining four curved away towards the other visible satellites.
“Four more direct hits and four more satellites out of action,” said Hawkins. “Impac
t from the enemy missiles is imminent. Launching shock drones.”
On his sensor feed, Blake watched the drones spill out from the Lucid in a pre-defined pattern. They sparkled and glittered, reflecting the tiniest particles of light energy and seeming to magnify them in a beautiful pattern of silver confetti.
Three or four hundred – it was difficult to be sure – of the Vraxar warheads detonated amongst the shock drones, creating smears of burning plasma which dwindled to nothingness they crossed the final few thousand kilometres towards the ES Lucid. A number of missiles came through the drones and these exploded against the heavy cruiser’s shield, the plasma spill making the protective sphere temporarily visible.
“Our shield is holding. Getting ready for our next launch.”
“They aren’t going to let us get away with that. Hand off to the battle computer.”
“Handoff complete.”
The Vraxar battleship jumped. It disappeared from its stationary orbit and reappeared thirty thousand kilometres from the ES Lucid.
“Stupid bastards,” said Quinn with feeling.
The Vraxar tended to keep their distance when they faced an opponent with overcharged particle beams. The captain of this battleship was either too confident or he hadn’t been paying attention.
The Lucid’s front and rear particle beams whined and thumped. They struck the battleship a thousand metres apart, lighting up a quarter of its hull with instant, incredible heat.
Within a second, the ES Lucid’s battle computer dumped another spray of shock drones, emptying its entire stocks in a rapid stream. At the same time, it launched several hundred missiles and once done, it disappeared into a short-range transit of its own.
“Can you see it?” asked Pointer.
“It’s right in place,” said Blake. “Three hundred thousand klicks towards the New Earth moon.”
“Where’s Ix-Gorghal?” muttered Quinn anxiously. “It’s going to show, right?”
“It’ll show. It’s the battleship I’m worried about for the moment.”
Sitting with his crew inside one of the ES Lucid’s shuttles, deep within the cluster of shock drones, Blake did his best to ignore the tension which pulled at every muscle in his body. On the shuttle’s rudimentary sensor feed, he watched. The ES Lucid’s farewell missile salvo detonated ferociously against the battleship’s energy shield, engulfing it completely. When the fires faded, the Vraxar battleship was still operational, glowing with retained heat from the particle beams which would take days to disperse. Lumps of molten alloy dropped away from its hull in a stream, hardening and drifting away.
Earth's Fury (Obsidiar Fleet Book 4) Page 12