Maxwell Saga 5: Stoke the Flames Higher

by Peter Grant

  Even as Watson realized that, he saw the flickers in the Plot indicating high-energy discharges from the four patrol craft. They were firing their lasers downward at the incoming missiles, but only two of each ship’s four laser clusters were on the underside. The two topside could not bear on the enemy’s weapons. He saw the gravitic drive signatures of each patrol craft begin to spool up as they tried to turn onto their sides, so that all four laser clusters could be brought into action… but it was too late. They would hit some of the enemy missiles, but the rest were almost upon them.

  Watson realized, with a sick sensation in his stomach, that it was an almost perfect ambush, launched from the spacefaring equivalent of knife-fighting range. The Kotai had planned and executed it to perfection. He suddenly grasped how smugly parochial, how baselessly superior, had been his own attitude and that of the rest of the Lancastrian squadron. They’d assumed they were facing primitive religious fanatics. Commander Belknap had spoken of the Kotai as ‘barbs’ – barbarians. Others had used similarly contemptuous terms… but those ‘barbs’ had gravitic drives and nuclear weapons, and they had brains. No matter how outdated their ships, their tactics were as effective as anything he or his fellow Commanding Officers could have devised. Indeed, they were even more effective, because the Lancastrian Commonwealth Fleet would hesitate to accept certain death in order to injure the enemy. The Kotai would make the exchange gladly, provided they could take enough of their foes with them. You couldn’t deter someone ready, willing and eager to die.

  Thermonuclear detonations began to obscure the icons of the four Commonwealth patrol craft, even as their own missiles powered up and began diving towards the enemy patrol craft, which were now taking evasive action. First Mamba, then Taipan disappeared from the plot, and then Boa vanished, the starburst icons of nuclear explosions marking their passing as their reactors lost containment. Only Python’s icon remained, although her gravitic drive emissions suddenly ceased. There was a brief pause as the detonations ended, then a sudden speckle of two, then three, then four smaller icons surrounded Python as her lifeboats were launched. They headed away from her at their best speed, but only two had gotten clear before she suddenly blew up, immolating her and the two lifeboats closest to her.

  Watson and his OpCen team watched, frozen in horror, as their four sister ships died. All that remained in the Plot where they had been were icons representing the two lifeboats, now drifting with their emergency beacons activated. Below them, the final missiles fired by the squadron were pursuing the two Kotai patrol craft as they dived away. They ate up the distance between them, gaining ground rapidly. Defensive missiles launched and laser clusters fired, but they could not hit more than a few of the incoming salvo of modern, high-performance weapons. Bomb-pumped lasers fired, and the two enemy craft disintegrated as their reactors blew up under the hammer-blows of multiple laser beams slicing through their fuselages. Even as they died, the four drones that had diverted the squadron’s attention also vanished in a hailstorm of thermonuclear detonations, several million kilometers away.

  Numbly, Watson realized that the enemy crews had understood the price of their success, and paid it willingly. They’d traded two old, outdated, antiquated patrol craft, and their crews, for double that number of the latest-technology patrol craft from one of the settled galaxy’s major powers. By any measure, that was a better than fair exchange for them. In fact, it was as good as a victory, because the Commonwealth’s citizens would not tolerate such exchanges. The news media and politicians would scream blue murder when they learned about this fight. It would severely tarnish the Fleet’s reputation, but do the Kotai nothing but good among their own people.

  He picked up the handset from his console, feeling suddenly very old and terribly weary. Commander Belknap, his Squadron Commander, was dead… Lieutenant-Commander Stackpole, his Division Commander, was dead… everyone on the four ships, except an unknown number of survivors from Python, was dead. His vessel and Rinkhals were all that remained of the six that had formed the patrol line.

  “Copperhead to Rinkhals, over.”

  “Rinkhals to Copperhead. Did – did you see that? Over.”

  “Copperhead to Rinkhals. Yes, I did. Rendezvous with me at Python’s lifeboats. We’ll take survivors aboard, recover our drones and detonate the self-destruct charges aboard those left by the other ships, then head for the planet at max speed. We’ll join the remaining two patrol craft there, under Lieutenant-Commander Roberts, and augment the planetary screen. Over.”

  “Rinkhals to Copperhead. Commander Belknap ordered us to take out local targets. Over.”

  “Copperhead to Rinkhals. Local targets are scattered through millions upon millions of cubic kilometers of space. They’re getting further apart every minute, and harder to find. The one place they’ve got to come together is Athi, if they want to land there – and that’s where we’ll find them all, whether they like it or not. Over.”

  “Rinkhals to Copperhead. I think we should obey Commander Belknap’s last orders. Over.”

  “Copperhead to Rinkhals. Commander Belknap is dead. I’m the senior surviving Commanding Officer. Obey my orders. I take full responsibility for them, and I’ll answer for them when all this is over. Meanwhile, we’re heading back to the planet to place ourselves at Lieutenant-Commander Roberts’ disposal. Acknowledge. Over.”

  “Rinkhals to Copperhead, acknowledged. I’m heading for the lifeboats. Over.”

  “Copperhead to Rinkhals, we’ll rendezvous with you there. Keep your active sensors sweeping. There are two more Kotai patrol craft somewhere out there. We don’t want them to sneak up on us the way their comrades did on the others. Copperhead out.”

  He replaced the handset, then looked around at his OpCen crew. “Heads up, everybody! You saw what just happened. Learn a lesson from it. If Commander Belknap hadn’t detached our ship to deal with Kotai small craft, we’d have been in that formation with him – and we’d probably be dead now, along with most of our comrades.” He tried to ignore the icy chill in his gut as he said that.

  “All of our ships, including this one, should have detected those Kotai patrol craft long before they could launch their missiles. The reason we didn’t is that all of us focused our attention, and our sensors, on the targets we could detect more easily – the four drones they used to distract us. We assumed they were the real thing, the only targets that mattered, so we didn’t bother to keep watch over the entire globe of space around us. We must never make that mistake again! If we do, there are plenty of Kotai still out there who’ll be delighted to teach us the error of our ways. Stay alert, stay focused, and let’s get back to Athi orbit as fast as we can. The rest of the people who did this are on their way there too. We’ll give them a warm welcome when they arrive!”

  A growl of angry assent rumbled through the OpCen.

  —————

  ATHI SYSTEM – DEVAKAI MERCHANT SHIP VARAHA

  Captain Palli hugged himself in glee as he watched the engagement unfold in his big Plot display. His bridge crew watched with him, enthralled, and exclaimed in triumph as the four enemy ships were blown out of space. They encouraged their comrades as they tried to make their escape, and cried aloud as their patrol craft were destroyed – but they were cries of gladness, not grief. They knew that by dying in the full glow of victory, as Kodan Sastagan had promised them, their fellow spacers’ eternal reward was assured. They would be reborn soon in higher castes, that much closer to moksha.

  They observed as the two surviving enemy patrol craft came together, retrieved the two lifeboats and two of their drones, and destroyed the others; then they turned tail and ran towards the planet. Another yell of triumph rose from the onlookers.

  “You have good reason to cheer,” Palli told them. “We’ve won a great fight here, but it’s only the first of many. Our other two patrol craft are on their way to fulfil their own destinies. We shall hang back and observe. If our forces triumph, we’ll carry news of it ba
ck to Devakai, to gladden the heart of the Incarnate God and all our fellow believers. If our forces need help, we have another task to accomplish, one that will bring an even greater blessing upon us. Let the unbelievers tremble! Many more of them are about to die!”

  As his crew cheered again, he sat down at his command console, his face impassive. It had, indeed, been a victory… but not as great as they’d hoped. The enemy commander had detached two of his patrol craft before Lieutenant-Commander Wodda could attack. That had spared them from the destruction that had wiped out their sister ships. It meant his son would have to deal with four enemy patrol craft at Athi, rather than two; and the fourth Kotai patrol craft would still have to deal with those four destroyers. He had to assume, too, that his alternate mission might still be necessary.

  He began to plan.

  December 6, 2851 GSC, 07:00 – 10:00

  ATHI – FIREBASE CHARLIE – 07:00

  Brooks pressed his body to the ground as the missile howled in over his head. It impacted dead center on the building across the open space, blowing it into rubble and dust, along with the Kotai who’d been using it for cover. Small chunks of debris rained down all around him, some hitting his armor, but doing no damage. Yet again he blessed the protection offered by Marine armor. Without it, he and every member of his reaction force would have been killed or injured long since. It was as important as their weapons in giving them the edge, as they held back the flood of fanatical fighters.

  The destruction of the building brought a temporary lull in the conflict. He took advantage of it to sprint back into the firebase, and sought out Captain Willoughby. The officer was marshalling the remaining Athi women and children, in preparation to board the last flight of shuttles. There looked to be about two hundred of them left.

  “What’s the delay?” Brooks shouted as he ran up.

  “We’re waiting on shuttles, sir. Instead of sending them all straight back to us for another load, HQ is rearming some of them. The Colonel says we may need them to defend our main base.”

  “That’s all very well for him, but not so good for us! How are we going to get these people out of here?”

  “The hospital ship sent down its ambulance shuttles before it headed for a safer orbit, sir. Some of them are going to retrieve these people, but they’re not armored. They can’t come in while fighting’s going on. We’ve got to get them to a safer place before they’ll make pickup.”

  “That’s going to be a problem. There are too many Kotai, and they don’t seem to be afraid of dying. We’ll have to break contact, then head out into open country where the ambulance shuttles can reach us safely. What ground transport do you have?”

  “We’ve only got our assault shuttles, sir, but the Athi company has transporters. I reckon we could fit these people aboard them as well as their troops, if we had to. It’d be a hell of a squeeze, though.”

  “Too bad! Make the civilians leave everything behind. Tell them it’s go with empty hands, or stay here to die! Set it up with the Athi commander. I’ll have my reaction force hold the perimeter behind them as they leave. We’ll call in a bombardment on their former quarters, to stop the Kotai charging while the reaction force breaks contact and boards our shuttles. You can overfly the transporters with your shuttles, to provide additional cover while we do that. If any of us go down, try to pick us up, but your priority is the safety of the women and children. Get them out first.”

  “Can do, but it’s a big risk for you, sir.”

  “That’s why they pay us the big bucks, Captain.” They both laughed sardonically.

  The Marines kept the Kotai’s heads down while the Athi contingent drove their transporters to the center of the firebase and loaded the women and children. That done, the local troops provided cover for the Marine garrison platoon as it boarded its assault shuttles and lifted off. Their shuttles’ plasma cannon began taking out Kotai strong points to the south of the firebase, clearing a path for the defenders’ ground transport to escape.

  Brooks monitored the progress of the other groups, using his armor’s sensors and radioed communications from Captain Willoughby. He marshalled his reaction force in a line at the edge of the firebase, taking over from the Athi soldiers as they fell back towards their waiting transporters. As he did so, he called Warrant Officer Tamagant.

  “Fire mission. Put a rolling barrage all along the northern edge of the firebase, moving north for one hundred meters into the quarters formerly occupied by the Athi women and children. You’ve got to break up a Kotai assault force, to give us space and time to disengage, so don’t spare the ammunition. Over.”

  “Understood, sir, but remember the accuracy problem. You’re a hundred and eighty clicks from us. I need you to designate a central aiming point along that north perimeter, so I can offset my barrage left and right of it, and moving north. Over.”

  “I don’t know if we have any beacons left. Let me check. Stand by.”

  Brooks changed channels and called his primary fire team leader. “Sergeant Diaval, I need a target beacon emplaced dead center of the northern perimeter fence as a marker for the artillery. I’ve got none left. Do you have any? Over.”

  “Yes, sir, just one. Beacon code is XK203, standard frequency. I’ll place it now. Wait one.”

  He watched from behind cover as the Sergeant rushed out from behind a building to his right. His powered armor could move at up to a hundred kilometers per hour in short bursts, and he used every bit of that speed to run up to the fence, drop the beacon on the ground, and sprint back to cover. Bullets pecked at the ground all around him and bounced off his armor. His fellow Marines provided covering fire.

  “Diaval to XO.” The sergeant’s voice was labored, his breath coming in great heaving gasps. “I’ve emplaced the beacon. Over.”

  “Well done! It’s working – I can see it on my plot.” Sure enough, the beacon’s rhythmic transmissions showed up on his armor’s sensors. He changed channels once more.

  “Tamagant, beacon’s in place and working, code X-ray Kilo two zero three, standard frequency. Fire for effect!”

  “Tuning our rounds to the beacon… stand by… stand by… stand by… On the way, sir! Time of flight to you is seven niner seconds. Over.”

  “Understand seven niner seconds. Thanks, Warrant Officer. XO out.”

  He switched back to the reaction force common channel. “Listen up! Bombardment on the way. It’ll collapse the houses on top of the Kotai assembling in them, and give us time to break contact. We’ll move back in five zero seconds from my mark… stand by… three, two, one, mark! Five seconds after we move, the shells start landing, so don’t hang around! Acknowledge.”

  He listened as his team acknowledged, then called the transporters and the circling shuttles. “Transporters, move out in two zero seconds from my mark… stand by… three, two, one, mark! Shuttles, stand by to cover us. Mortars coming in.”

  He grinned as both assault shuttles rapidly scooted further out to one side than they already were. No-one in their right minds wanted to get in the way of a barrage of heavy rocket-assisted mortar shells.

  He watched, poised, counting down the seconds. On either side, he could see members of his reaction force doing the same.

  With just ten seconds to go before they moved, he saw several Kotai appear in the windows of a building to the right of the beacon. They aimed their rifles at it and fired together, long bursts of full-auto rounds. Dust and dirt kicked up all around it. Suddenly its transmissions ceased as it bounced into the air, turned over, then fell to the ground upside-down, its casing torn open.

  Brooks acted at the speed of thought. “Diaval, take command, get everybody back to the transporters!” As he spoke, he broke cover and sprinted for the beacon’s position, making rapid adjustments to his armor’s transponder. Instead of broadcasting his ID code and location to the rest of his team, it now transmitted the XK203 code of the targeting beacon.

  As he dropped flat next to the destroyed beac
on, he heard Sergeant Diaval call, “Sir! You can’t – oh, hell! Marines, move out! Move out!”

  He braced himself. With luck, a round wouldn’t land too close… with luck, his armor would protect him from splinters… but they had to keep faith with the women and children whose husbands and fathers had died fighting alongside them. If they didn’t do that, if they didn’t give them a chance to break contact and make their escape, they weren’t worthy to be called Marines. While he had breath in his body, no-one would ever accuse him and his men of that.

  The first round howled in and exploded eight meters away, just north of the perimeter wire. Its shock bounced him off the ground, even as more mortar shells exploded in a long line to left and right of him, then began to walk forward, away from the wire and into the housing complex. Buildings began to explode and collapse. Screams rose from the Kotai inside them as they scrambled futilely for the exits.

  Brooks had just begun to think, “It worked!”, when a mortar projectile hit a Kotai heavy weapons team in the front room of a house. The rockets and satchel charges they carried blew up with the bomb, augmenting its force, shattering the brick building, blowing a large chunk of its front wall intact into the air. It arced high across the open space, tumbling end over end, and smashed down across Brooks’ pelvis and legs. He screamed in sudden raw, red agony as his armor was crushed into his body… then everything went black.