by M. R. Forbes
"With these little piss shooters," Cormac said, unhappy with the weapons they had been provided. No killing meant no lethal rounds, so they had been equipped with stunners instead.
"With those piss shooters," Mitchell replied. "Show us what you're made of, Firedog. Show us what kind of soldier you are."
"Hey, yeah. I'll show you, mate," Cormac said. "Bring it on. Friggin riiiggg-ahhh."
"Ten seconds," Millie said. "Colonel, you know what's at stake here for all of us."
"Don't worry, Captain," Mitchell said. "I've done this sort of thing before. Usually in a dropship, but how different can it be?"
"Frigging funny, Colonel," Cormac said.
Mitchell sent the command through his ARR for the ship to begin firing its rear thrusters. Magnetic clamps held the piranha in place as the main engines flared.
"Whoa," Cormac said. "You're going to burn my bloody balls off."
"Five seconds. We'll be coming in behind Calypso to keep from being spotted, and then dashing back out as soon as possible. Once you're out, you're on your own. Riggggghhhhhttt now."
Mitchell felt the tug as the Schism dropped from FTL. The hangar was already open, and his piranha was shaking, eager to be set loose.
A moment later, it was. The magnetic clamps were removed, the starfighter bursting forward. Inertial dampeners kept Mitchell from feeling it, but Cormac wasn't as lucky. He howled as they exploded from the hangar and into space, heading directly for the dead rock of the planet. Ilanka was right beside him, staying close as they changed their vectors to sweep low across the horizon.
"Good luck, and good hunting," Millie said. "Colonel, you have command."
"Roger," Mitchell said.
The Schism was gone from the area by the time they had made their way around Calypso to the orbiting stardock, coming up on its position in a hurry, using the orbital rotation to their advantage. Mitchell knew the exact moment the Federation had spotted them because two of their ships started moving, not toward them, but toward the Goliath.
As Mitchell expected, they had been unable to convince Origin to go into FTL. He wondered how hard Chancellor Ken had tried to convince the intelligence that it didn't matter who piloted the ship, as long as the Tetron were stopped. He also wondered if Origin had ever considered giving in.
"Looks like they are closing loophole," Ilanka said, observing the maneuvers.
"Not fast enough," Mitchell said, pushing harder on the throttle. He skipped ahead of Ilanka, taking the lead as they drew closer to the station and the Goliath.
The station began firing at them a moment later, lasers lancing out from batteries along the platform, spiking into the fighter's shields. Cormac cursed as they did, only a thin field of energy separating him from the deadly bolts.
Mitchell pulled up his grid, quickly marking the enemies and friendlies within it. There was no chance they were going to defeat the incoming forces, but they didn't need to beat them. They just needed to get around them. Even so, he cursed when he saw a series of smaller shapes appear from one of the larger ones.
"Fighters," Ilanka said, verbalizing what he was thinking.
"Get to the hangar. That's all that matters," Mitchell said.
They continued adding velocity, rocketing along the course on a direct line to the Goliath. The fighters were approaching from an angle, and they fired a barrage of missiles, sending the warheads across the space in a spread that was impossible to avoid.
Mitchell watched the dozens of small points on his overlay while the CAP-NN fired anti-projectile lasers that started smacking them out of space one by one. Nearly half of the missiles were gone before they got close, but half of them were still closing in.
He sent the fighter into a tight dive that pulled him off course, a few of the missiles following. Then he leveled and vectored toward the incoming fighters, heading right into the thick of them with the warheads close behind. The Federation fighters peeled away, not wanting to get hit by their own weapons, and leaving him a clear path. He took it, navigating around and toward the deck of a cruiser, which opened up with defensive laser fire as he approached. His piranha writhed and squirmed, responding to his mental commands and skirting the line, managing to avoid most of the laser blasts as he neared.
He came in close to the cruiser, skating the surface of the ship as the missiles hit its shields and detonated harmlessly behind him. He smiled as he swung past the cruiser's bridge and over, making a tight turn and rotation and getting back on target. Ilanka was a few dozen kilometers ahead now, racing ahead of the Federation squadrons.
"Damn, Colonel," Cormac said. "I expected a wild ride, but this is bloody crazy, even for me."
"I'll take that as a complement," Mitchell replied. "Watch this."
He maxed out the thrust, pushing the fighter forward toward the rear of Ilanka's tail. One of the starfighters noticed him, and it fired full reverse thrusters and flipped over to face him as he moved in. He had expected the maneuver, and he changed his profile, moving the piranha sideways and opening up with lasers and projectiles. He could have destroyed the fighter if he wanted to, but instead he settled for disabling its shields, leaving it cautious as he blasted past.
"I'm nearing target," Ilanka said. "Colonel, you are too slow."
"I'll catch up," Mitchell replied, watching Ilanka weave her way around another cruiser's defensive fire while avoiding the starfighters on her tail. It was remarkable flying, worthy of the best of Greylock. He could understand how much of a waste it would have been to send Ilanka to the brig for whatever crimes she had committed.
Mitchell continued adding velocity, approaching the cruiser at breakneck speed. It was increasingly more difficult to control the piranha at such advanced speeds, each small adjustment threatening to throw him off course. As he neared the cruiser and made a tight turn to drop below it and thread past the defensive batteries, he could barely believe how well he was flying.
Teegin. It had to be. The hybrid Tetron had done something to him during the reconstitution process besides healing his arms. He had made his reflexes quicker, his body stronger. It seemed impossible, but he knew it had to be so. Nobody could handle a starfighter in close combat at the speeds he was approaching. He wasn't arrogant enough to think he was the exception.
He spun around the cruiser like a flash, losing the enemy starfighters in the process. He could see the Goliath's hangar as he pulled around the other side of the ship, open as expected. Ilanka was closing on it, almost inside. They would reach it nearly simultaneously.
"Colonel?" Ilanka said, noticing his position on her HUD. "How?"
"Just get inside," Mitchell replied, changing his approach, firing reverse thrusters at full burn.
He was coming in hot, way too hot to bring the fighter to a stop in the hangar if he didn't slow down. The piranha shuddered at the effort, and Cormac began howling again. Mitchell didn't know if it was because he was frightened or if he was enjoying the wildness. He assumed it was the latter.
"Mitchell," Origin said, her voice suddenly cutting into his head through his p-rat, now that they were close enough to communicate.
"Origin," Mitchell replied. "Are the Feds treating you well?"
"Chancellor Ken is an arrogant blowhard," the intelligence replied. "He expects me to turn over control to him because of an agreement he forced you to make."
"I know. You didn't hurt anyone, did you?"
"It is against my security protocol to harm humans directly," she replied.
"So, no," Mitchell said.
"No. Not yet."
The starfighter reached the lip of the hangar, but it was still moving too fast. Mitchell forced the ship to drop and enter regardless, keeping the reverse thrusters going and cutting the mains.
"I don't suppose you can catch me?" Mitchell asked.
He saw Ilanka up ahead of him, her fighter already on the deck, with Shank on the floor, shrugging out of his starsuit. Federation forces were moving in from the far end, cautious
in their approach.
"Your approach velocity is too high," Origin replied.
"Thanks," Mitchell said. "Firedog, disengage your magnets, it's going to be a bumpy landing."
"You don't have to tell me twice, Colonel," Cormac replied.
Mitchell felt the fighter shift slightly as the soldier disengaged his magnetic clamps and rolled off the back, hitting the floor with a solid thunk and rolling for nearly ten meters before coming to a stop. The end of the hangar was looming, and in three seconds he would be smashed against it.
A thought signaled the CAP-NN to trigger the emergency escape sequence, firing repulsors under the cockpit and launching it up and over the still moving fighter, repulsors activating and sending him up toward the top of the hangar. The escape hadn't slowed his forward momentum, but as he neared the ceiling, he saw tendrils droop down, reaching out and catching the pod before it could hit the wall.
The piranha wasn't as fortunate, slamming against the rear bulkhead and exploding in a shower of flames that sank quickly to the deck.
"Nice catch," Mitchell said.
"Thank you," Origin replied.
"Let me go. I need to get on the ground."
The tendrils released the cockpit, and he guided it quickly to the floor. As he descended, he watched Cormac get the drop on a Federation soldier, reaching out and tapping him with the stunner. The soldier fell to the ground and didn't move.
"Rain, status," Mitchell said.
"I'm clear of piranha, Colonel," she replied. "Trailing Shank forward toward exit."
"Roger. I'll be with you in a minute."
"Is that you in pod?" Ilanka said, laughing. "Captain won't be happy you lost starfighter."
The cockpit reached the ground. The canopy shot open, and he grabbed his stunner from beside his seat and quickly jumped down.
"She can punish me if we survive."
25
"Origin, can you paint the targets for me?" Mitchell asked, dashing from his escape module to where he had seen Ilanka and Shank. "We need to do this quickly, before the Federation can send reinforcements."
"Reinforcements are already inbound, Colonel," Origin said. "You should make your way to the bridge. There are seventeen Federation humans between."
"Show me."
Mitchell switched his overlay to a map of the Dove. Seventeen red dots appeared on it. A few of them sat on top of one another, indicating that they were on a different level.
"Four Riggers against seventeen Federation grunts. I like the odds."
He reached Ilanka's piranha, taking cover behind it as someone started shooting at him. Rounds began pinging off the poly-alloy, the small arms not powerful enough to break the shell outside of the vacuum of space where they wouldn't lose velocity. He switched his overlay again, finding the shooter near the wreckage of his fighter. A green dot was closing in on it. Cormac.
"Remember, no killing," Mitchell said. "You kill a Fed; I kill you."
The green dot reached the red dot. The bullets stopped coming.
"Naw, you're right mate, this makes it more challenging," Cormac said. "Firedog, one. Feds, zero."
"Rain, Shank, head to Firedog's position," Mitchell said. "I'm en route."
"Roger," Ilanka said.
Mitchell raced across the floor, his exoskeleton moving him along faster than even Teegin's enhancements could manage. He had almost reached them when the sharp hiss of thrusters caused him to turn around. Two Federation transports were entering the hangar, likely loaded with soldiers.
"We need to move faster," Mitchell said. "Keep moving forward. Don't slow down."
"Roger," Shank replied.
Mitchell ran back toward the rear of the hangar. He saw the Riggers move through the exit, which opened at their proximity, thanks to Origin. Just because she wouldn't hurt the Federation soldiers didn't mean she wouldn't help him.
He passed through the hatch a few meters behind them, risking one more glance back as he did. The transports were unloading, dozens of soldiers in medium and heavy exosuits. One raised their arm toward him, unleashing a barrage of projectiles. He barely dove away in time.
"Can you get that?" Mitchell said.
The hatch closed a moment later.
"It will not hold them for long, Colonel," Origin said.
"Long enough."
He kept going, catching up to the group. The soldiers had reached the sealed hatch and were hitting it repeatedly with powered punches. It would buckle and cave in soon enough.
Mitchell pulled up the map. The red dots were moving, trying to cut them off on their way to the bridge.
"There are three soldiers near the lift. Firedog, you have the flash grenade?"
"Yes, sir," Cormac replied, lifting the grenade from his belt. "Just tell me where to throw it."
They drew closer. He could hear the echoing clang as the heavy door to the hangar finally gave in, signaling that their rear was effectively cut-off.
"They're trying to keep the lift from activating, Mitchell," Origin said.
"Can you override it?"
"Of course. Please standby."
"We don't have a lot of time."
"It is coming. There are soldiers on it."
Mitchell checked the map. The dots were piled on top of one another, leaving the numbers impossible to guess.
"Firedog, that way, now."
Cormac tapped the switch to activate the grenade, and then tossed it ahead, twenty meters with accuracy. It rolled into the area ahead of the lifts and exploded, creating a burst of light that would overwhelm both eyes and implants, giving them a few seconds to approach while the soldiers were blinded.
They burst into the space, quickly identifying targets. Mitchell took the furthest soldier, making an exo-assisted leap across the distance, coming down and grabbing him, and then holding him while he pressed the stunner to his neck.
"Target neutralized," he said.
"Target neutralized," Shank said.
"Target neutralized," Cormac said.
Mitchell checked his overlay again. The reinforcements were getting closer.
"ETA to the lift?" he asked.
"Eight seconds," Origin replied.
It was going to be close.
"Get in front of it," Mitchell said. "There are an unidentified number of targets on board. We have to take them out and go."
"Roger. No worries," Cormac said.
The seconds passed like hours, with Mitchell alternating between the live view down the corridor and the positioning reported by Origin. It was going to be more than close. They would have to be precise.
The lift stopped, the small light beside the control pad turning green.
The door began to open.
The fresh soldiers turned the corner, appearing at the end of the corridor. They raised their arms to fire the high-velocity railguns mounted to their heavy exosuits.
"Now," Mitchell said.
He threw himself into the lift while the door was still sliding open, grabbing a Federation soldier and throwing him back and away with mechanically enhanced strength, getting him in the line of fire and forcing the heavies to freeze their attack or risk hitting a friendly.
Cormac dove into the lift at the same time, hitting one soldier hard in the gut, laughing as he grabbed his arm, twisting it around in a position to break it.
"Firedog," Mitchell snapped, stopping him before he did.
Cormac shoved the man aside, blocking a punch and catching a second with the stunner, knocking him down, while Shank took care of a fourth.
The remaining two Federation soldiers hit the deck without being touched, receiving instructions from the reinforcements and clearing a lane of fire.
"Shit," Mitchell said, realizing they had almost been too efficient in removing the obstacles.
He reached for the lift's inner control pad, slapping it to close the open doors and get them moving away. They were perfectly grouped and contained for an easy execution, one that Mitchell expected
to come any second.
Then the door closed, and the lift began to rise. The flechettes followed a moment later, tearing through the metal and into the cabin. One of them caught Shank on the calf, and he cursed and fell to his knees while blood began to pour from the wound.
"Mother frigger," he said.
The bullets kept coming even after the lift had risen above the deck, still audible for a few more seconds.
"Mitchell, we have a problem," Origin said.
Mitchell glanced at Shank, who reached into one of the pockets of his fatigues and withdrew a field patch. He tore it open with his mouth and then slapped it against the damage, wincing more as the painkillers and healing agents stung the site. "Bastards," he said.
"What kind of problem?" Mitchell said. The lift was nearing the bridge, and there were still a few more Feds to deal with when they got there.
Origin pushed the stream to his p-rat. He switched over to it, a sudden chill washing through him.
"That's more than a problem," he said. Four Tetron had appeared beyond the stardock and were headed their way. "That's a frigging disaster."
"What is, Colonel?" Cormac asked.
"Origin, I'm sending you FTL coordinates," Mitchell said. "Get them entered and ready to go. We can't fight that."
"Affirmative, Mitchell," Origin replied.
"What is it?" Ilanka asked.
"We aren't alone here, anymore," Mitchell replied. There had to be a Tetron on the station. A configuration or a slave. Someone had told them the Dove was here and undefended. "Forget about not killing them. Do what you have to, we're out of options."
"I was hoping you'd say that," Cormac said, reaching under his uniform and retrieving a small hand cannon.
"I knew I could count on you, Firedog," Mitchell said. "Origin, are they preparing to attack?"
"No. I believe they are seizing control of the station."
Because Chancellor Ken had decided to play games instead of listening to him. Now everyone on the station and in the surrounding starships was going to become a Tetron slave. Damn it.
The lift reached the bridge. Mitchell and the others stood on either side of the door, pressed against the wall. Cormac was in front, ready to hit any anything he saw, hopefully before they hit them.