by D. J. Holmes
Movement at the back of the hangar caught his eye and he cursed. Indian soldiers in combat armor were pouring into the hangar. Without waiting to see what was going on, they charged towards the cave entrance and cut off their line of escape.
Glancing down at the blast door he had skidded under, Johnston let out another curse. Briar still hadn’t got it open. “Fisher, see if you can find the control panel for that blast door below us. We need to get it open. The Indians have cut off our escape.” He raised his hands to his lips and shouted down to the rest of his men, “Watch your backs, the Indians have sent soldiers towards the cave entrance. Fall back to the blast door.”
Johnston frantically went from control terminal to control terminal as he sought the blast door override switch. Just as he spotted the terminal he needed, a hail of plasma bolts crashed through what was left of the control room’s glass walls and exploded among the control terminals. Johnston dived towards the terminal he needed and, with one hand, reached up to hit the switch he thought would open the blast door. Lying on the glass floor, he looked down in relief to see it rise out of the way. As soon as it did, the rest of his Marines and the Havenite fighters who had rushed to the door bolted through into safety. Behind them, a number of other Havenite fighters were gunned down as the Indians, now aware there were intruders within the hangar, turned and engaged the Havenite fighters.
“Let’s move,” Johnston shouted as he pushed himself to his feet and ran out of the control room. As he and Fisher sprinted downstairs, Johnston paused to cut one of the technicians loose.
“There has to be another way out of here,” Johnston said to the woman as he dragged her with him. “If you want to see your bed tonight, you’re going to show us. Got it?” He threatened in as scary a voice as he could manage.
Not waiting for a reply, Johnston forced the woman back to the T-junction with him. He was pleased to see that Sergeant Briar had already closed the blast door. Alongside his marines, the Sergeant had formed up the remaining twelve Havenite fighters into two squads of six.
“Listen up,” Johnston said to the gathered men and women. “Our escape route is blocked, this technician here is going to lead us to another way out. I’m going to take point with the rest of the marines, I’m designating you as squads alpha and beta. Alpha you will follow behind us but leave a ten meter gap, beta you stay another ten meters behind alpha. You are responsible for covering the rear, make sure you keep the gap. If you do get hit from behind, your job is to hold them off, if you need backup we’ll turn around to support you. Understood?”
“Yes Major,” the Havenite fighters who took charge of alpha and beta squads replied.
“Right, which way?” Johnston said as he turned the technician around to face him. “I have no time to waste, so if you mess me about, or try to slow us down I’ll shoot you and capture someone else who will get us out of here.”
“Th... this way,” the female technician stammered as she raised her hand and pointed down the corridor that led away from the stairs.
“You’re in front with me,” Johnston said as he turned her and led the fighters deeper into the Indian base. “If you lead us into a trap, you’re the first one who is going to be hit by a plasma bolt.”
The group jogged down the corridor until they came to a wider section of passageway with two turbolifts along each wall. “In here,” the woman said pointing to one of the turbolifts on the right-hand side. “This will take you up to the fourth level. From there you can take the anti-grav platform to the surface. We have another hangar under construction on the fourth level, and there’s a shaft that has been excavated all the way to the surface.”
Pressing a button to open the turbolift, Johnston stood back to allow his marines and the two squads of Havenite soldiers to press themselves into the lift. Then, continuing to hold onto the technician, he stepped in and turned to face the closing doors. “Are there going to be any soldiers on the fourth level when we get there?” Johnston asked after hitting the button.
“Yes, I’m sure there will be,” the technician answered meekly. “Most of the soldiers based in the hangar were sent to the fourth level to head to the surface to fight off an attack made against the mining equipment we have stationed there.”
“Get ready,” Johnston said. They had all heard the technician’s answer, they didn’t need any more encouragement than that.
For a moment, Johnston thumbed the detonation switch in his pocket. Blowing the charges they had set in the lower hangar would cause one hell of a distraction. Yet detonating them now could cripple the base. If they were going to use some sort of anti-grav platform to get to the surface, then they would need the base’s power supply to be operational. They had planted enough charges around the Hal Tejas to bring down almost the entire base. He suspected that for a facility this large the Indians had installed a fusion reactor, if it detonated it would take everyone with it. Removing his hands from his pocket he took a number of deep breaths to calm himself as he waited for the turbolift to reach its destination.
As the turbolift doors opened, Johnston and his marines sprinted towards the first pieces of cover that came into view. The Havenite fighters were only steps behind them. The turbolift had deposited them in a large hangar almost identical to the one below. Except, where Hal Tejas had taken up the majority of the hangar floor, this hangar was full of construction machines, crates of supplies and other materials. Work on the hangar was obviously still ongoing. Off to one side of the hangar, again about forty meters above the hangar floor, was another control room. This one didn’t yet have its protective reinforced glass.
In the middle of the hangar there was a large open space. About sixty meters above the hangar floor a circular platform with a diameter of about twenty meters was slowly descending. The roof of the hangar itself was about one hundred meters above them, yet above the platform there was a shaft that led through the hangar roof and, Johnston guessed, to the planet’s surface.
Shouts of alarm drew Johnston’s attention back to the hangar floor. There were engineers and technicians milling around the construction equipment and a platoon of twenty Indian soldiers in combat armor at the bottom of the anti-grav platform, waiting for it to descend.
As one of the engineers spotting Johnston and his men shouted in alarm, the Indian soldiers reacted almost at once. Spinning round, they raised their plasma rifles and advanced towards the commotion.
“That platform has to be operated from the control room,” Sergeant Briar shouted to Johnston. “Even if we find a way onto the platform, the Indians will never raise it for us. Someone will have to take the control room and hold it long enough to get the rest of us out of here. I’d like to volunteer.”
“Not a chance,” Johnston shouted back. He’d already lost enough of his marines on this planet, he wasn’t going to lose any more. Raising his plasma rifle, he fired a few bolts at the advancing Indians. Then, he ducked behind cover and started to think as the rest of his men engaged the Indian soldiers. There’s bound to be a control terminal on the platform itself, he thought. But there will be an override in the control room. Maybe we can take some hostages? No, the Indians will have figured out it’s marines who are attacking them, they would willingly sacrifice a few technicians to get rid of us.
“We’ve got this,” the Havenite fighter who’d been put in charge of beta squad shouted. Before Johnston could countermand his declaration, he and his five fighters were already on their feet, charging towards the blast door that no doubt led to the control room.
Johnston wanted to swear, but he had no time. “To the platform,” he shouted. If the Havenites took the control room, they wouldn’t be able to hold it for long.
Hurdling the cover he had been hiding behind, he surprised two Indian soldiers trying to flank him. With lightening quick reflexes, he poured plasma bolts into each soldier before charging past them. His men had dispatched eight of the Indian soldiers, leaving only ten. As his men charged, the Indians cut d
own three of the remaining six Havenite fighters, try as they might, they failed to hit any of Johnston’s marines as their augmented speed caught the Indians by surprise. Closing to hand-to-hand range, Johnston shot another soldier point blank in the face. As a second soldier turned to fire on him, Johnston reached out and ripped the soldier’s plasma rifle from his hands. He ducked into a crouch as an armored fist swung towards him. As the soldier swung wide he was thrown off balance. Seizing the opening, Johnston dropped his plasma rifle and, with two hands, slammed the soldier’s own plasma rifle into his knee, forcing him back. As he rose from his crouch, he whipped his nano carbon knife out of its sheath and shoved it through the soldier’s power armor and into his neck.
He pulled the blade out and returned to a crouch to pick up his plasma rifle. Just as he ducked, two plasma bolts tore through the space his head had been in. Before he could spin round and return fire, Sergeant Briar appeared behind the Indian soldier, his own nano carbon blade protruding from the soldier’s frontal armor.
“That was the last of them,” Briar announced as he shoved the dead soldier to the ground and pulled out his knife.
“Everyone onto the platform,” Johnston shouted as he pushed himself back onto his feet, plasma rifle in hand.
As he stepped onto the platform, Johnston was pleased to see a control terminal. He pushed a few buttons and the anti-grav platform ascended. Plasma bolts zipped past Johnston and instinctively he, along with the rest of his men, went prone. New Indian soldiers had arrived in the hangar and were firing at the platform as it ascended. Leaving his men to return fire, Johnston switched his attention to the control room. The Havenite squad was visible as they blasted the technicians who hadn’t fled. One of the Havenite fighters shut the blast door leading to the control room. Then they took up positions to attack anyone who tried to force their way through the blast door. As the anti-grav platform was about to ascend beyond the point where Johnston could see into the control room, the leader of the Havenite squad turned and gave Johnston a thumbs up. Johnston saluted, then he was out of sight.
“What do you think is going to be waiting for us on the surface?” One of the two remaining Havenite fighters asked Johnston.
“I’m not sure,” Johnston replied. “If they have radioed ahead then there could be two full platoons of Indian soldiers waiting for us. We’ll have no choice but to surrender. Hopefully all the Indian soldiers on the surface are off chasing Maguire and his men. Either way, we’re about to find out.”
It took the anti-grav platform nearly a minute to ascend to the surface. To Johnston, it seemed like an eternity as every possible scenario ran through his head. As the seconds ticked by, he got more and more nervous, the longer it took, the more likely whatever forces were nearby would be ready and waiting for them.
Finally, the multi-colored Havenite trees came into sight. Johnston and the marines used their enhanced strength to jump the last five meters. As he leapt into the air, Johnston caught sight of several Indian soldiers milling around nearby. Evidently no one had warned them; they were paying more attention to the tree line than the platform. He poured a hail of plasma bolts into one of the soldiers. The other marines did likewise and within seconds the area was clear. Looking over his shoulder to make sure the two Havenite fighters had got off the platform, Johnston reached into his pocket and hit the detonator. For a moment nothing happened, then a deep rumbling came out of the shaft the platform had ascended through and the ground trembled.
“Let’s get out of here,” Johnston shouted as he ran towards the tree line. From the signs of fighting and the destroyed construction equipment, it was clear Maguire’s attack had at least been partially successful. Leading his marines and the two Havenite fighters in the opposite direction to the destruction, Johnston hoped they wouldn’t run into any Indian patrols.
“That should put a dent in their plans to fend off an invasion,” Briar shouted as he ran alongside Johnston, a large grin on his face. “What a story we’re going to have to tell. I was sure for a moment there we were never getting out of that facility.”
“You and me both,” Johnston replied as they reached the tree line and apparent safety. He couldn’t help the large grin that had spread across his face. It was invigorating to suddenly realize you weren’t going to die. All in all, their attack had lasted less than twenty minutes. It had seemed like an eternity.
Chapter 23 – From the Grave
Despite all the advancements in medical science, the average human lifespan is still just under two hundred years. As yet, no one has found a way to overcome death.
-Excerpt from Empire Rising, 3002 AD
4th October 2467 AD, HMS Vulcan.
“A fleet has just jumped into the system Admiral,” one of Somerville’s aids informed him over the COM unit in his office.
“Finally,” Somerville replied. “We’re going to get some news.” Since Rooke’s fleet had left Earth nothing had been heard from them. “Send me all the details you have on the fleet so far.”
A couple of minutes later when the full readings from Vulcan’s gravimetric sensors were sent to his office Somerville couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of foreboding. Nearly a third of the fleet he had sent to New Delhi hadn’t returned. Either Rooke had won a decisive victory and the doorway to Haven was now wide open. Or his invasion fleet had just suffered a severe beating.
It took eight hours for Rooke’s mission report to reach Earth and during that time Somerville couldn’t help himself from fretting over just what had happened. The fact Endeavour wasn’t among Rooke’s fleet only made things worse.
When the mission report did arrive, Somerville’s worst fears were realized. The fleet had been decisively defeated. Worse, from even a cursory reading of Rooke’s actions it was clear he had caused the defeat.
“This is unacceptable!” Somerville shouted as he slammed a fist down on his mahogany desk.
“You coward,” he said after reading Rooke’s justification for his actions. Taking a breath Somerville calmed his thoughts. If you think you are going to hide behind my orders you are mistaken, he promised Rooke. Keeping the fleet safe is one thing, running away is another entirely. You cost my nephew his life, I’m going to make you regret that for the rest of yours.
Thoughts of just how he would ensure Rooke’s naval career ended swiftly were banished by another file that caught his attention. It was addresses to Lady Somerville but his name was flagged as well. When he opened it just a couple of sentences greeted him.
Uncle, by now you know of the losses we suffered in the Indian colonies. I can only apologize for letting you down. I hope my actions at the end make up for my failings. Please, can you deliver the news to Suzanna. She has no one else on Earth.
James.
Within the file he had just opened there was another addressed to Suzanna. Using his access codes he overrode the encryption on the file and scanned it. Once he was finished he stood and opened a COM channel to his assistant.
“Forward Rooke’s mission report to Fairfax and King Edward,” he ordered. “Then prep a shuttle for me, I’m taking a trip to Earth.”
“Admiral?” his aide enquired. “Rear Admirals Jackson and Vickers have already requested a meeting.”
Both Admirals were a part of his strategic planning committee, they would be wanting to discuss the next step in the war with the Indians. Fairfax and Edward would be demanding to see him within the hour as well. “Tell them they will have to wait,” Somerville responded. “We can’t do anything with Rooke until he gets to Earth. For now I have something else to do.”
Somerville strode out of his office and made his way to one of Vulcan’s shuttle bays. As he flew down to Earth’s surface he remembered all the times he had briefed his nephew on Vulcan. When James had been given his first command he had been angry and openly insubordinate. Having watched his nephew rise through the junior ranks of the RSN, Somerville had hoped James would mature into a good officer. After he had been assig
ned to Drake he had developed serious doubts. James had acted like a petulant brat. Yet, the next time he had seen James, his nephew had been transformed. From there he had only improved, both as a leader and a tactician.
I was proud of you, Somerville thought as Badminton House came into view.
By the time the shuttle landed and he had walked up to the large oak doors at the front of the stately house, Suzanna had already opened them and was waiting for him. The look on her face suggested she guessed why he was here unannounced.
“The fleet has returned hasn’t it?” Suzanna asked. “There are rumors on the news broadcasts.”
“It has,” Somerville answered.
“And James?” Suzanna said as her voice cracked.
Instead of answering, Somerville handed her the datapad with James’ message on it. As she read it she began to sob. Finished, she dropped the datapad and looked up at Somerville with bloodshot eyes.