Before he could make sense of it, a huge, angular object hurtled along the street, heading towards the Vraxar rather than away. The Colossus tank crumpled cars and rubble as if they weren’t even worth notice.
Duggan didn’t delay. He ran to the opening and outside. In terms of width, the tank was almost a perfect fit for the street but it wasn’t tracking straight and it clipped the walls on both sides. As it rumbled on, it spread the Vraxar against the side walls like butter. Here and there, one of the alien soldiers managed to drop prone and the tank went harmlessly over their heads. Duggan shot them one at a time, calmly adjusting his aim to fire bullet after bullet through their skulls.
About a hundred metres away, the tank slowed and then came to a stop. The main gun fired again, the booming echo dislodging precariously-balanced debris from the walls overhead. Duggan lifted his arm and waved vigorously.
Slowly, the tank reversed, doing further damage to the walls as it travelled. There were plenty of Vraxar ahead of it and Duggan heard their bullets ping off the tank’s impervious hull. The rear emergency hatch was a plate of metal two feet square. It dropped open and a man got out. He dashed through the smoke towards Lopez’ plasma tube. Meanwhile, a second man struggled free of the emergency hatch. He walked to keep pace with the reversing tank and reached inside, pulling out his own plasma tube.
“Here!” shouted Duggan.
One of the soldiers, his features hidden behind his visor, lifted a hand in acknowledgement. He didn’t come closer – instead, he activated the retractable ladders on the rear of the tank. Previously-concealed rungs slid out from several places along the tank’s rear.
“Up!” said the soldier loudly, beginning an awkward climb with his plasma tube.
Another face showed itself at the emergency exit hatch and a third man climbed free. Trooper McGraw broke cover. She jumped out of a half-buried doorway and ran like a hare towards the tank. Duggan stopped gawping and fixed his attention on Paz and Richards.
“We’ve got to move,” he said.
Paz was pulling herself together and she gave a mock salute. “The cavalry has arrived.”
The third man sprinted from the tank towards the three of them. “We’re looking for Fleet Admiral Duggan.”
Duggan lifted his visor and then replaced it. “I’m Duggan.”
“R1T Munoz, sir. Get onto the tank.” The man hesitated, wondering if he’d been too abrupt. “If you please.”
Duggan was relieved, but there was business to take care of. “I want someone to check the upper floors. We had two up there.”
Munoz didn’t like it and struggled to deal with the conflict. “I was told to get you to the tank.”
Duggan made his mind up. “Let’s go.”
Munoz helped Lieutenant Richards, while Duggan and Paz did their best to run. Meanwhile, others had come from the tank. They lay flat and fired through the gap underneath. The two soldiers with plasma tubes were perched high up on the rear ladders and one of them fired a rocket to the east. The second man disappeared over the top.
The main gun boomed for a third time and the tank drifted back with the recoil. Its gravity engine complained loudly as it fought to stabilise the vehicle. Duggan reached it first and gave Paz a boost into the emergency hatch. Either he was stronger than he remembered or they’d improved the battlefield adrenaline since last time – Paz flew through the hole with an exclamation of surprise, and crawled inside.
Munoz arrived, walking awkwardly with Richards leaning heavily against him.
“Is there a medic onboard?” asked Duggan, helping push Richards onto the tank.
“Sandoval,” Munoz grunted through his effort.
Lieutenant Richards wasn’t in a good way, but his suit was keeping him going. There was someone waiting and Duggan saw hands pull the soldier deeper inside. He took one last look around at the blood, the smoke and the interminable rain. Two plasma rockets shrieked in quick succession, detonating close by with percussive thumps. Through it all, the gauss coils of the soldiers’ rifles whined.
As he climbed inside, he heard footsteps receding. It was Munoz, sprinting away to check the upper storeys for Wheeler and Krause. This single act of loyalty reinforced what Duggan already knew – he was in safe hands.
The insides of the tank were as cramped as Duggan remembered them. He crouch-walked through a low room, where Sandoval was hunched over Richards, with her med-box wired up to his chest.
There was no time to stop and talk. “How’s he doing?” he asked in passing.
“He might live.”
It wasn’t the perfect answer but it was better than he’ll definitely die.
Duggan located the cockpit. The pilot turned and raised his visor. “Good evening, sir.”
“This is a useful habit you have, Lieutenant McKinney.”
“Thank you, sir.” McKinney got on with the task of bringing Duggan up to speed. “We counted more than two hundred enemy soldiers with two artillery guns.”
“Two? They must have sent up second gun.”
“They didn’t last long. Everything’s out of action on this tank except the main turret and that’s not much use against a spread force. The targeting’s out too and Sergeant Li here is having to do it the old way.”
“Manual aiming,” said Li.
Duggan leaned in close to the display showing the front sensor feed. “Not many Vraxar left now.”
“I’m sure there are plenty on their way.”
Two more plasma rockets exploded in the street, near to the intersection and it was clear there wasn’t much opposition left anymore. McKinney spoke into his mouthpiece, using the tank’s speaker system to get the message through.
“Webb, Vega, get back onboard.”
“Has Munoz returned?” asked Duggan.
McKinney pressed a hand to his earpiece and listened intently for a few seconds.
“He’s inside the hatch.”
“Did he find…?”
“Munoz, please report.” McKinney listened again and relayed the soldier’s response. “Negative. There was nothing left of the upper floors. He says we’ve got a Sergeant Demarco with us.”
Duggan shook his head in a mixture of sorrow at the dead and wonder at Demarco’s survival – he thought she’d been buried under ten thousand tonnes of rubble. “How the hell did she get out of that?”
“Sealing the rear hatch,” said McKinney. He spoke the next words quickly. “We need to get you to the Ulterior-2 and the Earth’s Fury, sir. Captain Blake has done his best to draw away the Vraxar warships and is inbound on a shuttle. If you can bring those ships into a live state, he is hopeful we can gain something from this situation.”
“Such as what?” Duggan asked. It wasn’t a fair question.
“I don’t know, sir. I’m just doing what I can.”
Have I lost the fighting spirit? Duggan asked, hating that he still couldn’t see a way out of this. Has it leaked away with each passing year?
He tried to weigh up the options, aware there wasn’t time for thinking. Looking back, everything seemed much simpler when he was on a spaceship with only his crew and a few soldiers. Here he was, potentially holding the lives of four hundred billion men and women in his hands, with no clear idea what to do.
Someone touched him on the shoulder and he found Lieutenant Paz there. “We can’t let Ix-Gorghal reach our other worlds. Whatever it costs us here.”
“There’s still Ix-Gastiol,” he replied softly.
“What is it you keep saying to me? One step at a time, sir. If we destroy Ix-Gorghal, we give the Confederation a fighting chance.”
It was a terrible decision but in reality, nothing had changed since he set out with Lieutenant Richards and the squad.
“There’s a change of orders, Lieutenant McKinney. Facility LT3 is along this road and we’re going there first.”
McKinney couldn’t hide his disappointment, as if he’d just discovered the legendary Fleet Admiral Duggan was nothing more than
a scared old man. “Yes, sir.”
Duggan’s eyes gleamed dangerously and his face took on an expression few living people would have seen before. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant. I won’t be staying at Facility LT3. As soon as I’m done, we’ll go to the Ulterior-2 and the Earth’s Fury. Captain Blake will have his ship.”
McKinney grinned. “Yes, sir!”
It was an infectious look and Duggan couldn’t help but return one of his own.
McKinney took the control joysticks and fed power through the tank’s engines. The noise climbed, until it reverberated throughout the cockpit. There was something primal about the sound – the tank was clearly badly damaged, yet Duggan felt its indomitable anger pouring through the walls. It was something he hadn’t felt since his days on the ES Detriment or perhaps the ESS Crimson. His eyes misted and he blinked them clear.
The Colossus tank thundered onwards, along the eastern road towards Facility LT3.
Chapter Sixteen
The ES Lucid’s shuttle entered the New Earth upper atmosphere, still travelling at near-maximum velocity. The hull temperature climbed rapidly and Blake slowed the vessel in order to stop them burning up. It had been a difficult journey for everyone onboard.
“I think I hate the anticipation most of all,” said Hawkins. “I don’t mind the actual fighting itself, but when it comes to the waiting for the fighting, I’d rather be asleep.”
“Or drunk,” said Quinn.
The shuttle bumped and shook as it was gripped by turbulence. Blake held tightly onto the controls and studied the ground far below.
“That dropship must hold a million soldiers,” he said. “They’re everywhere.”
“Plenty of them going for the Ulterior-2 and the Earth’s Fury.”
“I hope they got them shut tight,” said Pointer.
“They should be sealed,” said Blake. “It’s standard procedure to lock the doors once the base alarm goes off.”
“I don’t think we’ll be getting in through the lower boarding ramps,” mused Hawkins. “There are thousands of Vraxar and I can see approximately thirty artillery units on the landing strip, with more on the shipyard area. They’ve positioned missile launchers amongst the construction machinery. If they’re anything like our artillery, they’ll be able to target us long before we land.”
It wasn’t going exactly as Blake hoped. Ideally, he intended setting the shuttle down next to the Ulterior-2, open up the nearest boarding ramp using his captain’s clearance to override any lockdown, and then stroll onboard. Once safely within, he planned to take stock of the situation and await the arrival of Fleet Admiral Duggan. With the Vraxar closing in, it was going to be a little trickier to manage.
“How is the Fleet Admiral going to get to us?” said Hawkins, asking the question Blake had been purposely ignoring.
“We might be able to activate some of the Hadron’s countermeasures to clear a path.”
“Won’t that increase the chance the Vraxar battleship will decide to blow the Ulterior-2 to pieces, sir?”
“Stop asking difficult questions, Lieutenant Hawkins. This was never meant to be a carefully-planned mission. We take it as it comes.”
“Whatever you say, sir.”
“Thank you. Now, in light of the enemy presence around the docking trench, I’m going to set us down on the roof.”
“I didn’t know there was a way in from the top,” said Quinn.
“There are at least four upper access shafts on every fleet warship. They’re only meant to be used during maintenance.”
“I really did not know that.”
With so many Vraxar guns to contend with, Blake brought the shuttle in a wide arc around the base, intending to fly it in low. It added time to the journey, which was infinitely better than being knocked from the sky by a dozen heavy repeaters. Once they were far enough from the base, Blake levelled the shuttle at an altitude of one thousand metres and aimed directly for the Tucson base.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you will shortly be able to see the magnificent spires of Frontsberg below us.”
“It was a shithole last time I visited it,” said Quinn. “The air stinks of rotten eggs.”
Frontsberg was one of New Earth’s industrial capitals and it extended for dozens of kilometres in every direction – a sprawling mess of component factories, smelters and furnaces. It was founded hundreds of years before and was, for many people, the perfect example of dystopia. Oddly enough, the citizens living there seemed to enjoy the two hundred days of average annual rainfall and the happiness ratings for the city were amongst the highest in the Confederation, along with worker efficiency and industrial output.
With the speed of the shuttle, Frontsberg was soon far behind and Blake prepared for the final approach to the base. It was going to take quick reactions to achieve what he intended.
“Set the nose gun to track and respond.”
“Track and respond activated.”
“Let’s hope the plating on this shuttle is up to the task.”
At fifteen kilometres out, the first of the Vraxar heavy repeaters began firing. Hard slugs of metal pounded the nose of the shuttle, filling the cockpit with a clattering din. The front end of the shuttle was built the strongest, owing to the stresses of atmospheric entry, and the repeater fire glanced away. The first gun was joined by a second and then a third.
“Ten klicks,” said Blake. “I’m taking us lower.”
He pointed the shuttle’s nose down until they were at five hundred metres. The ground was undulating and at the speed they were travelling he was reluctant to go much lower. The autopilot wouldn’t activate for such a dangerous manoeuvre and Blake was forced to do the hard work himself.
“They got the rockets going,” said Hawkins. “Crap,” she spat.
The shuttle’s rudimentary tactical display showed eight dots to represent the enemy missiles. They raced across the screen with terrifying speed. The shuttle’s nose cannon started up, the sound like an industrial drill going through a block of solid granite. The dots vanished.
Hawkins wiped sweat from her brow. “Got them.”
“Five klicks.”
At that moment, the shuttle was struck by something with enormous force. It shook the entire vessel and Pointer stumbled into the bulkhead wall. A red light filled the cabin as the warning alarm started up.
“That was a big gun,” said Hawkins. “You’ve got to go lower, sir.”
“Don’t I know it, Lieutenant.”
With his teeth gritted, Blake took the shuttle as low as two hundred metres. The ground still wasn’t level and he was required to make constant small adjustments to keep from crashing. Tucson lay ahead, yet every second was a battle against defeat and death.
“More missiles,” said Hawkins.
Once again, the nose cannon grated, throwing out thousands of rounds in an impossibly short time. It failed to shoot down the final two missiles and they plunged towards the shuttle. Blake reacted instinctively and dragged the craft to one side. The missiles detonated against the ground underneath, the explosions vanishing quickly behind.
“We’re coming in,” said Blake.
The outskirts of the Tucson base were visible to the naked eye and Blake did his best to keep the few perimeter buildings between the shuttle and the Vraxar artillery. The heavy repeater fire on the hull lessened and he expelled the air he’d been holding in his lungs.
The lull was a short one. The shuttle flashed over the tops of the perimeter buildings and the drumming against the hull began anew. Another large-bore slug smashed against them and the impact produced a visible deformation in the cockpit floor.
“Is everyone in the personnel bay aware of what they need to do?” said Blake.
“Yes, sir,” said Pointer. “They need to get the hell off this shuttle as soon as the doors open.”
“Get back there, then. Lieutenant Quinn, you can join them.”
The two officers got a move on and joined the ES Lucid’s complement o
f soldiers in the rear bay. Blake ignored the commotion and focused on getting the shuttle exactly where he wanted it.
“There’s the Ulterior-2,” said Hawkins. “Looks even more impressive from here.”
“Set the nose gun to full auto.”
“Yes, sir.”
The nose cannon spun and sprayed its projectiles indiscriminately into the Vraxar on the landing strip. Blake watched a couple of artillery units broken to pieces and the shuttle was close enough for its sensor to register the shards of concrete thrown up by the bullets ripping through the enemy soldiers and into the ground. It was satisfying to watch, but in reality, it was little more than a drop in the ocean.
A third heavy round struck the shuttle’s nose. Blake heard the shriek of tearing metal and felt air rushing through a breach somewhere by his feet. A fourth round hit them shortly afterwards and suddenly, Blake found himself able to see the ground through a hole in the cockpit floor to the right of his seat. He attempted to buy some time by banking sharply left and using the Ulterior-2 as a shield. The heavy repeater fire lessened and no more large-bore projectiles hit the shuttle.
“Five hundred metres. This is going to be tight.”
The upper section of the Hadron was a mixture of flat armour, rounded beam domes and the four vast, awe-inspiring Havoc turrets. Near the back, there was an area of exposed Gallenium engine where the shipyard hadn’t managed to get the last of the armour plating in place. Other than that, the battleship looked finished.
At the last possible moment, Blake slowed the shuttle. The life support units were damaged and he felt the braking forces pushing him towards the console. He kept tight hold on the control sticks, his muscles straining.
With just a few metres until the shuttle was atop the Ulterior-2, Hawkins gave the announcement Blake had feared.
“Missiles.”
Blake’s heart fell.
One of the Vraxar missile launchers was positioned close to the side of the Ulterior-2 and hidden from sight by a huge mobile crane. It fired a salvo of eight at what was effectively point-blank range.
Earth's Fury (Obsidiar Fleet Book 4) Page 16