“And there we are,” Jackson said with disgust, “the missing piece.”
Chapter 12
The DeLonges star system was a Holy Grail find when humans first began mapping the space around them using Alpha Centauri as an epicenter. Established by the New America enclave, and named for a long-forgotten nineteenth century explorer, the system boasted two planets of similar size and climate capable of sustaining human life: DeLonges and New Sierra. It also had two dense asteroid belts rife with the raw materials needed for starship construction, most notably iron ore.
It was the often overlooked planet of DeLonges that was causing Jackson Wolfe so much trouble. All his planning had assumed Fourth Fleet would mass their forces as close to the shipyards as they could. After all, that’s what he would do. Since they were flying into the system from above the ecliptic, he never considered the fact that his counterpart commanding the Fourth Fleet elements would also try a bit of misdirection.
“It looks like the new arrivals were maintaining a heliosynchronous orbit on the far side of DeLonges,” Barrett said as his tactical plots updated. “They were stacked up to offer a minimal profile from the direction of the Haven jump point and using the planet to shield them.”
“In other words, they knew exactly where we’d be coming from,” Davis said.
“Let’s all calm down,” Jackson said sternly. “It wouldn’t take a tactical genius to know that any force CENTCOM sent was most likely going to deploy from Haven. The mission is still a go, so let’s analyze and adapt. Have we been able to resolve the new ships?”
“Yes, sir,” Barrett said. “Two fleet carriers, four missile cruisers, and five long-haul replenishing ships. I’ll have class designators and ship registries shortly.”
“Five cargo haulers,” Jackson drummed his fingers on the armrest in a rapid staccato. “So their strategy relies on bluffing us with numbers along with the element of surprise by making it look like we’ve flown into a trap. Tactical, begin tracking all ships and broadcasting the data to both troop pods and the Icarus. Let’s not show our hand until we’re sure what they know. The carriers and cargo ships are no threat, but four missile cruisers can cause us some trouble depending on what they’re carrying.”
“New message coming in, sir,” Keller said. “Text only. It’s just repeating the previous order.”
“So let’s send our response,” Jackson said. “Sound general quarters, set condition 1SS, and prepare the Ares for battle. Tactical, I want continuous full power sweeps of the system, and don’t bother trying to disguise your targeting scans. Nav! Plot me a course further down into the system that puts us in between the two Fourth Fleet forces. Helm, you’re clear to engage on the new course, ahead three quarters.”
“Ahead three quarters, aye.”
“More misdirection, sir?” Davis said.
Normally Jackson would be beyond irritated with an XO that asked so many questions, but moving Lieutenant Davis to this position had been his decision, and with as little command experience as she had telling her to sit quietly wouldn’t bring her up to speed any faster. So he took the opportunity to train her on the job while things were relatively quiet.
“More of a distraction,” Jackson corrected. “Trying to find the Icarus would be difficult while she’s running silent, and tracking the stealth troop pods would be even more so, but there’s little chance of picking any of them out of all the noise we’re broadcasting into the system. Not only that, but I can’t imagine the New American commander is that comfortable with a Starwolf-class destroyer bearing down on, them despite their numerical advantages. They’ll know, as we do, that unless those cruisers are loaded with the most advanced ship-to-ship missiles available, cornering us into an engagement will be costly.”
“Another incoming message, Captain,” Keller said.
“Read it out loud, Mr. Keller,” Jackson said.
Keller read from his display. “Message starts: TCS Ares, you are ordered to withdraw from New America sovereign space immediately. Lack of compliance will result in use of force. Message ends.”
“Transmit this, audio only.” Jackson stood and turned around to face his com officer. “This is Captain Wolfe. According to the Articles of Confederation, section seventeen under reciprocity of military force, any and all Seventh Fleet warships are to be accorded safe passage through any Confederated star system or enclave. Your statement of sovereignty begs the question: do you speak for the New American government in declaring yourselves no longer part of the Terran Confederacy. Be advised I am prepping a com drone for Haven now for my own clarification. Ares out.”
“Message sent,” Keller said with a grin.
“That should buy us a bit more time as they try to figure out a way to walk that back without looking like a bunch of amateurs,” Jackson said to Davis as he sat back down. “Helm! All ahead full. Tactical, begin acquiring target locks on all the Fourth Fleet missile cruisers and no need to be subtle about it. OPS, how long until the troop pods will begin their final course correction and decel?”
“Two hours, sixteen minutes, sir.”
“Nav, send an acceleration plot to the helm that puts us outside the orbit of the sixth planet, roughly equidistant to both… opposing fleets,” Jackson said, catching himself before he said ‘enemy’ while he studied the tactical display. “Helm, you’re free to execute at will.”
“Aye aye, sir,” the helmsman said.
“We’ll still need to find a way to keep their attention focused on us without actually engaging them.” Jackson paced the area in front of the command chair. “If we could pull those units away from the shipyards, that would be preferable. Suggestions?”
“I think I have an idea, Captain,” Barrett said.
****
“What can you make out, Specialist?” Lieutenant Commander Amiri Essa asked over the “open” channel in the pod.
The insertion vehicle didn’t have full time artificial gravity (it barely had heat), so they were all strapped in securely as they cold coasted down the well toward the New Sierra Shipyards.
“It’s all a jumble, sir,” the specialist first class said from the pod’s very basic com station. “Captain Wolfe appears to be trying to draw off the Fourth Fleet units with verbal insults, but I think I’m only getting half the conversation. We may not be receiving the transmissions from the ships near DeLonges.”
“Understood,” Amiri said. “Time check?”
“Ten minutes, forty-eight seconds to decel,” the specialist answered.
The Chief strapped in beside Amiri bellowed, “Final gear check! Weapons safe until after impact.”
“I wish you’d use another word for that, Chief,” a young spacer said from the back of the pod.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the Chief said contritely. “How about, ‘shut the fuck up and check your gear like I said.’ Does that work for you?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“Cut the chatter,” Amiri said conversationally, silencing his entire team immediately. “Chief Lund, please check that the breaching charges are secured before we begin decel.”
“Yes, sir.” The Chief popped his restraints off and floated over to the armored hatch at the front of the pod to double check that the optional explosive breachers were secured.
“Thirty seconds!” the specialist at the console shouted. “Standby for final decel! Impact with objective hull in four minutes!”
“Lock seats in reverse position!” Amiri called out.
Everyone in the pod swiveled and locked their seats so that their backs were facing the direction of travel, the best way to absorb the impact that was coming.
Thirty seconds later, the disorienting, conflicting pulls of an artificial gravity field formed, just before the powerful retro rockets fired, violently slowing their decent toward the shipyards. The pods were built for stealth and survivability of healthy young special operators, not comfort.
The NOVAs were subjected to forces in excess of ten G’s as the m
otors continued to burn, the attitude thrusters firing constantly to control their decent as they scrubbed off the incredible velocity they’d inherited from the Ares.
“Thirty seconds to impact!” the specialist wheezed into his headset.
Everyone in the pod grunted and squeezed their core muscles as hard as they could as the retro motors throttled up for one last, intense burst before the nose of the craft slammed into the hull of the upper shipyard hard enough to snap everyone’s heads back into the seat rests. The shock absorbers on the nose did an admirable job of soaking up the last bit of relative velocity, and by the time the team was shaking their heads and taking stock of their bodies, the lights ringing the forward hatch were blinking amber, indicating the pod was anchored securely, and they were clear to breach.
“Weapons hot! Lock and load!” Chief Lund tore his headset off and jammed his helmet on.
“Rat! Position check,” Amiri called out to the thin faced specialist at the control console.
“Off target by seven meters!” Rat called back. “We’re still on top of that service bay, sir. Clear to breach.”
“Give me a go, no-go!” Amiri shouted as he popped his restraints and grabbed his own helmet. After twenty-four “go” calls, he put on his own helmet and cycled the action on his carbine.
“Breach! Breach! Breach!”
At his command, there were a series of muffled whumps just outside the hatch, and smoke began curling in through the atmospheric ducts.
“We didn’t make it all the way through.” Rat’s voice came over the team channel in everyone’s helmets. “Firing secondary charges.”
Whump… whump… WHUMP!
“We’re though! Purging airlock and opening hatch!”
The air pumps hissed as they blew compressed air through the forward airlock to clear out the smoke and debris. The hatch popped and swung out of the way. Amiri shouldered his way past Chief Lund and Rat in order to get the first view of where they were. Inside the service bay they’d blasted into, there was the expected dust, a few small fires, and klaxon alarms blaring loudly, but no armed party intent on repelling them.
“Go! Go! Go!” He jumped off the airlock platform and onto the deck of the New Sierra Shipyards. “Colt! Get to that panel and upload the package now!”
At his command, a short, stout specialist sprinted for the command terminal that was beside the entry hatch. He pulled out a specialized tile with a trailing lead and made a hard connection to the terminal. Amiri deployed his team to cover all the entrances and waited tensely. If the codejack program that smart ass CIS spook had given him failed to gain them control of the shipyard’s automated defense functions, this would be an unbelievably short mission.
“We’re in, sir!” Colt disconnected the lead and navigated through the menus on the tile. “I have command access to most of the subsystems we’ll need, but I wasn’t able to deactivate the small arms aboard.”
“One thing at a time.” Amiri walked over to look at the tile’s display. “Kill all the alarms on this deck, and seal all the hatches to both Marine garrisons… That should cut down on how many of those apes we’ll have to deal with. I also need confirmation that the Black Fleet crews are still aboard their ships.”
“Working on it, sir,” Colt said.
“Rat, Samson… Cover Colt while he’s working the tech.” Amiri strode back to the hatch. “I’m taking point. Chief Lund, I want you at the rear. Standard deployment—five man teams and keep your intervals. Colt, make sure you’re transmitting updates to the team network.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Let’s get this done,” Amiri said. “If Team Six gets to the objective before we do after the head start we have, I will not be happy. Understood?”
“Understood, sir!”
The last five-man group out of the service bay made sure the heavy pressure hatch was closed and locked. It was a required feature for rooms with direct access to the outer hull to have such a pressure-capable hatch. It was also the main reason Amiri liked to hug the outer hull whenever coming aboard an orbital structure: the heavy pressure hatches were surprisingly resistant to weapons fire.
Leap frogging each other to make sure the side entrances to the outer ring were always covered, the five individual fire teams pressed ahead to make it quickly to their first checkpoint before the personnel on the station could get over their initial confusion and mount an effective defense. The fact they were making such quick progress without seeing so much as a wandering technician told Amiri that they might already be too late.
“Halt!”
The strident, fear-tinged call stopped the trailing team as they kept watch over a side corridor to allow the rest of the team to pass. Crouching in one of the hatchways, weapon trained on them, was a young Marine lance corporal. He was without helmet or body armor, so he’d probably been on a regular patrol when the alarms sounded and not dispatched afterward.
“You don’t want to die in this corridor, Marine,” the NOVA element leader near the junction called out. “Just toss that carbine out on the deck, and let us do our job. We’re on the same team here.”
“Stand down you bottom-feeding Fleet scumbag,” the Marine yelled back with false bravado. “The rest of my squad is coming up behind you. You’re pinned down.”
“Don’t be a—” the element leader didn’t get to finish his sentence as a round from the Marine’s carbine slammed into his chest plate, knocking him flat to the deck.
The Marine’s eyes widened in fear as it seemed he may have accidentally squeezed off the round, but the other four NOVAs responded immediately. Hardened penetrator rounds fired from specialized carbines peppered the unprotected man’s exposed right flank, and one went through his neck. Amiri had been already begun moving back when he heard the first shot.
“Report!” he shouted as he came sprinting back toward the engagement.
“One Marine down, sir,” a garbled voice came over his headset. “Specialist Halsey was hit center mass. His armor held, and he seems to be okay.”
“Fuck!” Amiri shouted, not caring that it went over the open team channel. “Are there any more station defenders in the area?”
“Unknown, sir. There are none within sight, however.”
“Colt, are you able to see personnel trackers on your tile?” Amiri asked.
“Negative, sir,” Colt answered as Amiri walked up to see Halsey climbing painfully to his feet and slapping away the proffered hands of his element mates.
“What happened?” Amiri asked, looking down at the Marine’s body sprawled out in the corridor.
“He fired first, sir.” Halsey rubbed his chest underneath his loosened body armor. “It may have been an accident.”
“What a mess,” Amiri said. “You and you: go police that body. Don’t leave it just laying out there. Get an ID on that young man… He was just doing his job, and we will make sure he’s properly honored when this is all over. Halsey, make sure your element doesn’t screw around. I want you back in the rotation in the next few minutes.”
“Aye aye, sir!” Halsey said. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Amiri said. “Just get this cleaned up and get your head back in the game.” As he ran back up to where his own element waited, Amiri was both heartbroken and angry. He couldn’t fault his men for the reaction that resulted in the Marine being killed, but it was precisely what Amiri wanted to avoid the most. No matter how successfully the rest of the mission went, all anybody would recall is that his men had gunned down a young lance corporal.
“I’ve gained control of these two lifts, sir,” Colt said as Amiri jogged up to his team. “They’ll take us down eleven decks, and from there we’ll be able to gain access to Master Docking Control.”
“Are the lifts being monitored?” Amiri asked.
“The intrusion program has spoofed the station’s computer into thinking they’re stationary,” Colt said. “At least in theory.”
“Then let’s take two el
ements down simultaneously,” Amiri said. “Same rules as before. Try to minimize the damage and loss of life, but do not let anyone impede our progress. Samson and Halsey, your teams are going down first. Colt and I will be last.”
With Colt controlling the lifts from his tile, the team made quick work of descending to the lower levels of the shipyards. They’d made entry on one of the upper levels simply because that was the easiest to get to in an unpowered, unguided insertion pod drifting in from the middle of the system.
The upper levels were mostly large bays that contained the automated machinery that fabricated individual ship components and never had many people wandering the corridors. Once they got down into the lower levels that contained the command and control sections and administrative offices, they weren’t likely to be so lucky. The fact that agent’s program had managed to seal all the hatches closed would help a bit, but there would still be a lot of people that hadn’t been in a compartment at the time the command went out.
With one last look around, Amiri climbed into the lift with Colt and three more of his operators to join the rest of his team on the lower level. When the doors opened again, he was relieved to see a calm scene, his NOVAs deployed in a defensive position around the lifts and three Fleet officers in plastic restraints and lying face down on the deck.
“All clear, sir,” Halsey reported as Amiri stepped off the lift. “These three were milling around in the area and were detained without incident. No further contact to report.”
“Fine. Halsey and Samson, your teams will take point,” Amiri said. “Everyone else will fall in behind. Right now, getting Colt to Docking Control is the most important objective. We will be going hard and fast to not give the defense force any time to organize. Once there, we’ll fortify our position within and wait for the Ares to conclude her operations. Clear?”
“Clear, sir!”
“Let’s hit it.”
****
“Coms, any luck getting through to either battlegroup commander?” Jackson asked for the fifth time.
Call to Arms (Black Fleet Trilogy, Book 2) Page 16