by Tobias Roote
“Do we think that the Angel ships were destroyed in the explosion ?” Phang asked no-one in particular.
“The fact is, sir, that we can’t be certain although the anti-matter explosion would have covered a large area and the likelihood of them being in the vicinity and therefore incinerated is more than a high probability,” the old man responded.
Phang sat back, the loss of their two newest ships was a body blow to the corporation’s plans. He thought about it. They could still succeed on numbers, but those two ships alone were meant to take on a planet each. Thank goodness they were only skeleton crews, if there had been the usual contingent of fifteen hundred it would have been an unmitigated PR disaster. He also knew that their strike plans were in an advanced stage of roll-out. They couldn’t delay and the AW Command structure couldn’t be allowed to process the data it now held on Archon sector.
“We cannot afford to delay, time is upon us. Send a message to Alpha fleet, to take down the AWC. If the missiles don’t work, take out the space-port including the news crews,” Phang ordered callously. He knew he had just effectively pronounced a death sentence on over forty thousand people, many of whom would probably be corporation personnel. No matter, this was war.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fording Station
Range was in the canteen when the call came through. He raced toward the entrance gathering his forces as he went. He’d really been caught on the hop this time with only a few of his men repelling the Core troops attempting to regain access to the AWC. He mentally questioned the Core’s desire to constantly attack the AW while he ran. It didn’t make sense unless there was something here they either wanted or needed to destroy. They could easily laser the base from orbit if they wanted, but hadn’t so far. That meant there was something here they wanted to retrieve. Maybe not the female officer that Grady had imprisoned, but something that had brought them in right at the beginning. The spy in their midst perhaps ? Kildark ? He’d love to know what was at the back of all this, but decided it wouldn’t much change things. He just hoped it was worth all the killing. He pulled his team together as he ran.
The corridor leading to the entrance indicated the fire fights his people had already repelled. Blood and scorch marks littered the walls and floor, both from his men and enemy combatants. Putting the thoughts of their losses aside he pulled up his hand-held screen which showed what was happening ahead. It was a full-on attack, there were squads of Core marines attempting to move in. This is it, he thought as he pressed his communicator and set it to broadcast publicly across local space.
“This is AW Command, we are under attack by Core air and ground forces, we need support from fleet, do you copy Freedom ?”
He waited a few seconds while the message transmitted, he was almost at the entrance now and stopped short just as the reply came in.
“This is Captain Brake of the Freedom, be advised that we are still out of range of Fording Station and unable to concentrate fire sufficiently to aid you. We are sending fighters to provide cover, they should be with you in twenty.”
Range heard the communicator click off. He calculated, twenty minutes before he could get air support to take out the gunship stalking the entrance – it would be too late, he decided.
Switching his broadcast to local so his team could hear him, he sent out an order to fall back. His men would be heading his way in a few seconds and would need supporting fire.
“You four,” he turned to the soldiers nearest him and indicated they should take the left fork in the corridor. “Reinforce your position and prepare to provide cover for our men as they retreat. You four,” he indicated the next in line, “take the right corridor and do the same. When they come, take out all enemy combatants, then fall back corridor by corridor,” he ordered and was satisfied with the confident nods from his men. They would be alright.
“The rest of you, follow me.” he ordered while hitting a fast run.
Range led them forward quickly to a set of doors leading to supply and maintenance areas. The doors were locked, but opened under Range’s hand print. His new security clearance left nothing unopened by his bio-signature.
He glanced at the numbers he had with him, ten men plus himself. “You five into the storeroom. If you can wait until the battle passes you, then take them from behind.” He didn’t need to tell them that the chance of discovery might ruin their plan, but they had plenty of cover inside the stores and could give a good accounting of themselves. That, in itself, would slow down the attack.
“You five, follow me. We’re going to get behind them and take out that gunship,” he said as he pushed ahead with his multi-blaster. He had a dozen charges with him which would be plenty to take out a gunship at close range. At his command, they each collected some bags of plas-cement and hefted them over their shoulders.
He ran through the back of the storeroom and indicated a narrow stairway that ran parallel to the main entrance area to an office at the end. He stormed in followed by some of his men. There wasn’t room for everyone and as they all knew this was a dead-end they held back and awaited further instructions.
Range indicated to the men with the cement gesturing for them to place the bags where he indicated in two alcoves that were the width of doorways and then get out. The last two he held back momentarily.
“You two, put two ten-second fused grenades here and here,” he said, indicating the narrow area between the cement and the rock walls, “then fall-back to the stores. As he exited at a fast pace he heard the double whine of the fuses and stepped up his speed so as not to get trampled by his own men who were already behind him and racing for the safety of the store-room beyond.
“Everyone down, protect yourselves,” Range warned as they exited.
He barely made it behind a pallet of plas-cement before the explosion ripped through the narrow space showering them in dust and debris.
“Quickly now !” He rose and ran for the stairs again, through the murky and dusty cloud, leading his men over the wreckage that was once an office and where now daylight shone beyond the walls. The dust was clearing giving him a good view of the result. Two large openings had appeared in the wall. They could do this, he thought.
His men covered both entrances that now faced the space-port area where the gunship, to their left and slightly below them, was hovering in support of the marines that had entered the main entrance. Taking a multi-blaster from one of his men, Range selected automatic mode, then aimed for the air-intakes above the engines that maintained the ship’s position.
He fired and held the trigger down as bolt after bolt hit the armoured area, bouncing off the armour plating, doing little damage.
“C’mon, focus you stupid old git,” he muttered.
Then a bolt disappeared down one of the intakes and the resonating thud of an explosion told him that it had found its mark and the gunship’s engine had been damaged. He had four rounds left and waited to see if he would need them.
Smoke poured from the air intakes while the engines belched flame and then seconds later, exploded. As the gunship sank heavily to the ground it crashed and the pilot and gunner leapt out, thinking they would be covered by their own marines, but Range’s men were ready and took them out in a barrage of plasma and laser fire. No enemy was to be left with the potential of aiming a weapon at them and those guys were the pits hiding in an armoured flying tank with rail-guns to decimate the ground troops.
The marines on the ground quickly realising they were being attacked from the rear, pulled back to locate the source and as they did fell into the sights of Range’s men who mercilessly mowed them down.
He leaned back into the room hearing gunfire from behind and down the corridor, he realised his men were defending their rear. That meant the enemy weren’t going to go deeper and fall into the trap he had set. Recognising their advantage was likely to be short-lived, he looked at the distance and made a command decision.
“Jump, lads,” he cr
ied and hugged the multi-blaster as he leapt, rolling as soon as he hit the dirt. Immediately he was up and running to the entrance, the whine of his weapon telling him it was charged ready to blast the first enemy he came to. He heard his men drop and follow him and together they arrived at the wrecked entrance to the AWC. All of the Core marines must be inside, he decided.
“We’re coming in through the entrance, be ready to catch these bastards between our forces,” Range ordered into his comm unit. He received confirming responses from three of four of his groups in different positions. “Shoot only what you can see, don’t fire wild or you will bring down your team mates,” he reminded them.
A tap on his shoulder pulled his attention from the entrance. Indicating behind him the soldier said.
“We have incoming, sir. It looks like two more gunships.”
“Oh ! for fuck’s sake !” Range muttered and changed his frequency to the Alliance broadcast again.
“Freedom, this is AW Command. We could really use that fire-power, sir. Like, now !” Range emphasised, his gravelly voice etched the desperation of their situation. If the gunships fired into the entrance-way which had already been completely breached, it would take out him and his men in a single salvo as well as the Core marines inside.
There was no answer to his hail of the Freedom. Range decided there was no other choice and called out, “Forward men, let’s get this finished and come back and sort out these ass-holes when we’re done.” As Range led his men back into the AWC complex he knew they had a very small chance of success, but he needed to show leadership so his men didn’t lose their will to fight. They had to win the day at all costs.
Dramatus - En-route to Fording Station
“You mean to tell me this ship has only twenty-two crew and a small contingent of guards ?” Grady replied incredulously as his view swept the bridge counting off the people there.
“Yes, the technology is so advanced we literally fly the whole ship from here. Normally, though there would be a full complement of crew for the sake of redundancy, but for these two ships and the shakedown cruises, they set it up to all run from here.” The SIC, who Dalt had introduced as Charon, turned to Dalt and added “Your ship was lucky in that we had very limited fire-power from the bridge, otherwise you would never have made it to the ship’s weak point : the underbelly.
We knew that. My brother and I had already beaten your ships in battle in scenarios much like today. It was only the proximity of the Callisto that stayed our hand in destroying your engines.
“Oh, so you were already familiar with this ship’s specifications. In that case I’m doubly glad we resolved our differences,” he smiled. “That would have sent the captain into an incandescent rage, one that some of this crew wouldn’t have survived.
“Like my brother, you mean,” Dalt reminded him sourly.
There was a moment’s silence while everyone absorbed the change in mood.
Dalt realised he had no right pressing his own guilt on these people and quickly tried to reset the mood.
“We have a new problem, and possibly a solution, if you’re game,” Dalt looked at Charon as if getting the measure of him anew.
“You want the Dramatus to go into battle,” Charon sighed.
“How fast is this new interstellar drive ?” Grady asked.
“Three times faster than any other ship in any other fleet,” Charon answered.
“Four hours, then !” Shrilla calculated.
“Four hours to where ?” Charon queried.
“Fording Station,” Dalt announced.
“But... but, that’s suicide - there’s a whole Core fleet mounting an attack there right at this minute !” Charon cried. He looked at them as if they were joking, quickly realising their deadly intent would put the captured ship right into the thick of the enemy.
“We have an advantage,” Dalt said looking round at the bridge team and wondering just how loyal they would be in a firefight.
***
Grady listened to the first call from Range and knew immediately that Freedom’s fighters were coming from too far away to be there in time to help.
In space disasters tend to unfold very quickly and timing was always critical. He calculated quickly and realised they wouldn’t make it. He turned to the renegade Core officer.
“Charon, how close can we get to the station ?”
Charon turned to the navigator who knew the drive system and could accurately calculate their chances. He just raised an eyebrow and the navigator immediately screwed his face up as he considered the problem. Too close and the chance of hitting another of the Core ships or other vessels in the vicinity would be high. If they came in too fast there would be zero margin for error. He shook his head negatively.
“We cannot get in close AND halt the ship in time to make any difference to the AWC. There is no margin for error here.”
Grady knew the answer was coming, but his quick-thinking mind already had another idea.
“What if we don’t brake and do a fly-by instead ?”
The navigator immediately changed his countenance to one of happy positivity.
“Then, we can course correct and skim the asteroid,” he smiled and looked good for the challenge.
“But, what would that do ? We would be flying too fast to attack the gunship ?” Charon added, a puzzled look on his face as he tried to anticipate Grady’s thought processes.
“You have those lovely new fighters in the launch bay, I think I can pilot one,” Grady grinned as he began to race from the bridge.
“But, those aircraft haven’t been rolled-out yet, how do you know you can even fly one ?” Charon shouted after him.
“They are based on previous models, but now everything is AI-controlled - point and shoot !” Grady replied pausing half in and half out the bridge, but now closely shadowed by Shrilla.
“I’m coming too, If you can fly one, then I’m going to be your wingman,” she said in a tone that Grady recognised as brooking no argument. He was secretly relieved, any half decent Core fighter could out-fly him and he trusted Shrilla even if she probably still harboured doubts about his allegiance.
They raced the empty corridors of the new Core battleship to where they remembered the hangar bay was and stumbled over bodies that had been heaped by the DIA operatives ready for disposal.
Grady hesitated a moment as he looked at them strangely. They were all similarly built and without their protective helms on, he realised what had stopped him - they were clones. He could see from their build that they had been trained and well prepared yet they had fallen to a handful of the Dispersalistas.
Not for the first time did Grady have reason to be grateful to Dalt’s family and their genetically advanced physiques. Shrilla looked disappointed, her distaste for cloning and mutation was the driving force behind her working for the Alliance of Worlds. It was Grady’s also, but cloning was part of their universe now and it was important to deal with the consequences of that and their work in AWA made a difference.
“Pick a fighter,” Grady suggested from the front row of five aircraft while he proceeded to the one marked ‘flight leader’. He knew it would have the added comms onboard for communicating with other ships and they would need that, he was sure.
The all-purpose in-space and in-atmosphere fighter was designed for quick entry. He pressed his thumb to the fighter’s access panel and waited while the bridge permitted access to the fighter. On this ship the bridge controlled access to ensure that only authorised personnel had entry. It had cut thefts of fighters and shuttles by a large margin.
A crack appeared in the side of the jet and a few seconds was all it took for the whole side section to lower, complete with an inertia seat and helmet wired in. It took only another few seconds to strap in and place the helmet over his head. As he did so the lowered section rejoined the rest of the cockpit and Grady was rewarded with an immediate head-up display. The sound of the cockpit sealing it
self and a rush of clean air told him that the craft was flight ready.
He looked it over. The instrument panel and stick were standard, but the blinking light in his HUD told him he was missing something. His eye locked onto it and the screen flared with a message, ‘Activate onboard co-pilot’ with two boxes below, green and red. Grady opted for the green and was rewarded with an acknowledgement which was followed by earphones rotating down from his helm and hovering over his ears. This allowed him to hear onboard noises as well as communications.
“To access personalised options please enter your Core pilot ID,” said the voice from the phones.
“Override personalisation,” Grady replied to the inboard AI’s request.
“You have selected optimum settings rated for novice, do you wish to change setting ?”
Grady was frustrated already and could imagine Shrilla going through the same problems with her onboard AI. He decided to try and circumvent further questions.
“Override all settings. Prepare for launch on my mark,” he tried.
“Affirmative. Awaiting hangar doors,” the voice responded
“Bridge ! Hangar doors, please,” Grady sent the request through the AI’s comms.
The answer came through the phones by his ears.
“We need to over-ride safety settings, Grady. It will be a few seconds more. Don’t launch until we tell you, we’re coming up on Fording Station in a few minutes,” Dalt responded. Obviously Charon was too busy.
“OK, Dalt. We’re ready to go,” Grady responded.
“Shrilla ?”
“Yes, Grady, all okay here, this AI needs some lessons in obeying instructions, but we’re there,” she responded gruffly.
Grady smiled, he could imagine the problems that the AI would have dealing with his new partner. Unused to not being able to hack into the system would probably shorten her fuse somewhat. He opened ship-to-ship comms and toggled it to stay on. The bridge would hear their conversations as well, but it wasn’t an issue.