Alabaster Noon

by Chris Kennedy

  Aleksandra turned and saw a Tortantula had impaled young Dimitri from behind. Long, deadly fang tips protruded through the front of his combat armor; air hissed out and blood pumped forth in gouts.

  “No!” Aleksandra cried. Just like that, her fear and shaking were gone, and her pistol appeared in her hand as if it had a will of its own. Dimitri’s eyes glazed over as she leveled the pistol at the ring of black beady eyes of the Tortantula and pulled the trigger over and over. The gun wasn’t very powerful, but at only a meter away, the Tortantula’s head exploded. She shifted her aim, looking for the Flatar. There wasn’t one, nor a saddle; the Tortantula who’d killed Dimitri was riderless.

  She pushed off the wall and turned, looking for one of the little chipmunk bastards. She fired the rest of the magazine at another Tortantula forcing its way through the door. The rounds mostly bounced off, and she marveled how the aliens didn’t need space suits. The little Flatar did, though.

  Something hit her in the back, forcing her forward against the now badly perforated and bent metal shield. She craned her neck and saw a spacesuited Flatar on her back, its gun pointing at her head. The barrel’s muzzle looked big enough to dock a battlecruiser. The Flatar was smiling, and then it wasn’t. It was difficult to smile without a head.

  The metal-alloy blade glistened in blue and red blood from its passage through various species’ as Sergeant Hedrick swiped the dead Flatar’s body from her back. “Get behind me,” he said over her pinplants. She moved. As she did, she saw his suit was pierced in many places. Some were stained red; all had a black goo in them she guessed was a sealant.

  “You’re hurt,” she said.

  “I don’t have time to die,” Hedrick said, raising his arm and unleashing a burst from his chain gun. A Tortantula slammed into his armor, bearing him backward.

  Aleksandra only just managed to move aside and not get pinned between his armor and the wall. The huge alien reared back and rammed its fangs into the CASPer’s bulbous forward cockpit armor. One fang broke off in a shower of splinters, the other penetrated.

  “Eat this, you bastard!” Hedrick screamed, pushing the barrel of the chain gun against the Tortantula’s underside he fired a long burst. The alien was blown apart in a fountain of blue gore, sending all ten legs spinning in different directions.

  A Tortantula/Flatar team came at Hedrick from behind and Kleena came out of nowhere, leaping in zero gravity to hit the Flatar in a football tackle. The little alien was locked into the saddle, and not thrown clear. Kleena took out an electronics tool of some kind, jammed it against the Flatar’s armored torso, and triggered it. An intense burst of lightning enveloped the two, then the Tortantula. When it stopped, none of them moved again.

  Hedrick moved and shot, then moved and shot again. Aleksandra let her gaze move around the CIC, now a slaughterhouse of Human and alien bodies. She was the only one of the CIC staff still alive, and it looked like Hedrick was the only marine. She remembered earlier thinking it was a last stand. An accurate assessment, she realized; Hedrick was barely moving.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “Fang got me, and the cockpit is leaking.”

  “I think we won,” she said. “There aren’t any more spiders.”

  “Great job,” he said, then coughed. “I knew you had it in you.”

  A cylindrical object floated in through the door, spinning lazily and bouncing off the various dead spiders and inactive CASPers, toward her.

  “Sorry we couldn’t make it to the end,” Hedrick said.

  It’s a grenade, she realized, far too late to do anything about it. There was a strange sensation and a wave of static passed through the CIC, sending spitting arcs off every metallic surface.

  What was that? she wondered, then the grenade detonated.

  * * *

  MGS New Era, Approaching Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  “Well, this sucks,” Corporal Melton said, surveying the corridor. “No one else made it?”

  “I don’t know,” Walker replied. “I can’t raise anyone. Doesn’t matter, though. They’re paying us by the job, not by the hour, so let’s get this done. The number one priority is the CIC, so that’s where we’ll go first. Move out.”

  Melton led the way forward, and Walker shook his head, finding it hard to believe they were the only group alive. They’d all survived the breaching operation with minimal damage to their suits and had fought their way through the first group of mercs—a patrol of Zuuls—they’d run across.

  “I’ve…explosions…me,” Melton commed a minute later as they advanced toward the ramp that would lead them “down” to the CIC.

  “What?” Walker asked. “Say again, over.”

  “…got sounds...in front…” Melton commed.

  “Anyone catch what he just said?” Walker asked.

  “He’s got sounds of explosions coming from in front of him,” Corporal Horan replied. “He’s breaking up a lot, though.”

  “Tell him to hold up,” Walker commed, nodding. So, it was the ship, he thought. It either prevents comms…or they’re actively jamming us. Good to know—there may be more of us.

  He jetted forward to where Melton was waiting at an intersection. “There’s a barricade around the corner and down the passageway,” he said. “Looks like more Zuul, and they’re shooting at someone coming from the other way.”

  “If they’re enemies of the Zuul, they must be part of our group. We’ll charge the barricade on three,” Walker said as he came alongside the trooper. “Hopefully, they’ll all be looking the other way and won’t see us coming.”

  “Sure thing, sir, but you need to stay back. Me and Horan have got this.” Melton patted the top of the mech behind him. “Ready, Matt?”

  “Ready as I’m going to be.”

  Melton counted down from three, then the two soldiers raced around the corner, with the rest of the squad following. As Walker cleared the corner, he could see a barricade set up about twenty meters away at the cross-passage. It was manned by at least half a squad of Zuul, firing off to the right. The Horde troopers made it halfway to the barricade before one of the Zuul noticed them and turned in their direction. He got a single shot off, before a deluge of laser and MAC fire caught him.

  The other Zuul started to turn, but the CASPers were already on them, and all were killed in the brief firefight.

  “Thanks to whoever just hit the Zuul checkpoint,” an Italian-accented voice commed. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Valenti. We’re coming up the passageway and would appreciate it if you didn’t shoot us, too.”

  Walker went to meet him, then noticed Horan’s icon had gone red in his display. The one shot the Zuul had gotten off had gone through his chest, killing him instantly.

  Damn it.

  * * *

  CIC, MGS New Era, Approaching Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  “We’ve lost the Zuul checkpoint, Admiral,” the TacCon reported. “They got hit by a second group before they could deal with the first.”

  “What are your intentions for dealing with the boarders?” Admiral Galantrooka asked.

  “Until we get our boarders back from Prime Base, I don’t have a lot of forces to use against them,” the TacCon replied. “I’m going to pull back most of the remaining forces to defend engineering and the CIC so I can hit their groups one at time.”

  “Will that be enough?”

  “Absolutely. There are several barricades set up to stop them or at least delay them until our forces get back. And besides, we haven’t used the Goka yet.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  MGS New Era, Approaching Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  Nigel’s force covered about half the distance they needed to go before they ran into their first barricade.

  “Looks like I’ve got a Zuul position on the ramp below us,” Corporal Taheri said as rifle fire and a couple of explosions could be heard from down-ramp.

  “Stand by,�
� Nigel said. “I’m coming.”

  He worked his way to where he could see the Zuul further down the circular ramp. They had a pretty good position where anyone coming down the ramp at them would be exposed, and what looked like several heavy lasers positioned to cover the approach. They’d be hell on the CASPers.

  Fortunately, the Zuul had either neglected to protect themselves from fire from above or hadn’t had time yet to get the defenses in place to do so. Nigel’s forces could trade fire with them from above and get the better of them. It would take a while to whittle them down, of course, but it would be a lot safer than charging the heavy lasers. While he felt the press of time and wanted to hurry, getting to the CIC without enough forces to do the job wouldn’t work.

  He moved back from the edge to find Major Sulda, the leader of one of his Lumar companies, waiting for him.

  “Dogs dumb,” the Lumar said, pointing with the hands on his right side toward the Zuul below. “No have roof.”

  Nigel nodded. Although they may not be mental giants, the Bold Warriors’ leader had seen plenty of action and knew how to fight. “No, they don’t. We can shoot at them and kill them without needing to charge those guns.”

  The Lumar shook his head. “Lumar pet good dogs; Lumar break dumb dogs. You shoot here,” he said, indicating where they stood, “and we go break.”

  “Okay…” Nigel said, not entirely sure what the Lumar planned, but trusting him to know his job. He shrugged as Sulda turned away and began giving orders to his troops. “Asbaran CASPers, move to the side of the ramp and take the Zuul below us under fire.”

  After a couple of minutes of trading somewhat ineffective fire with the Zuul—they had better cover than Nigel had first realized—Major Sulda tapped Nigel’s CASPer on the shoulder. “We ready,” the Lumar said.

  Nigel turned to find two of the largest members of the Bold Warriors behind him. They had removed four of the ship’s watertight doors and spot-welded them together with their lasers into a large shield.

  “Bold Warriors go spank bad puppies,” Sulda said. “You shoot from here and keep Zuul heads down.”

  The other three Lumar, including Sulda, got behind the Lumar carrying the improvised shield and began marching down the ramp.

  “Cover them,” Nigel ordered, moving to the side of the ramp so he could fire down at the Zuul.

  While the Zuul were able to return fire or operate the heavy lasers, it quickly became apparent they couldn’t do both at the same time, especially since the heavy lasers weren’t as well protected. Although the Zuul got off a few shots, including one that put a wicked line across the Lumar shield, the Asbaran forces quickly killed any of them that went to operate the lasers, and the Lumar reached the impromptu barricade without loss.

  The two Lumar carrying the shield raised it and threw it into the remaining Zuul, then hopped over it and engaged the Zuul hand to hand.

  “Let’s go!” Nigel yelled, going over the railing so he could fly down to the barricade.

  By the time he got there, though, it was over. The thrown shield had killed several of the Zuul, nearly cutting them in half as it squashed them into the bulkhead, which had deformed with the force of the impact. It appeared the ones that remained had had their necks wrung.

  Nigel shook his head. Say what you want about the Lumar, they’re certainly strong.

  * * *

  CIC, BMS Trushista, New Warsaw System

  Paka clicked her tiny claws rhythmically on the arm of her chair on Trushista’s CIC. A short distance away, Captain Glashpooka had all his eyes retracted, a sure sign he was using his pinplants heavily. The entire CIC staff were occupied similarly. The battleship and a mere nine of its formerly large squadron of support ships was closing in on the dreadnought, which had a fraction of the battleship’s meager acceleration. The dreadnought was also slowing as it approached Prime Base.

  I will be the first to walk into Prime Base, she said. I will claim it for my sister and the Mercenary Guild. That will end it. Nobody will care about a few wrecked Bakulu and Maki ships.

  The ship’s battlespace contained data on all the different battles underway, including the traitorous Izlians who’d surrendered and the battle for Prime Base. The strange ships which had showed up to harass her squadron had then gone on to help a force board the dreadnought. The boarders appeared to be causing all kinds of hell on New Era.

  Admiral Galantrooka wasn’t having an easy time of it. Paka’s muzzle curled into a tiny smile at the idea. She decided after they took control of New Warsaw, there would be plenty of time to find out what was behind the little Lightships.

  “There is another Egleesius approaching the fleet from the vicinity of Prime Base,” the TacCom announced.

  “That’s impossible,” Paka said. “All five Egleesius were at the emergence point battle.”

  “Then you are wrong,” Glashpooka said, indicating the Tri-V. “That is another.”

  “You don’t understand,” Paka insisted. “I was there when the other four were found…” She trailed off as she remembered. “Show the scan of the new ship.” He regarded her with a single eye. “Now, entropy take you!”

  Glashpooka looked at the sensor tech, and the data was relayed to Paka. She took one look at it and felt ice tripping off her tail. It’s not an Egleesius, it’s a Keesius! The captain stared at her with a pair of eyestalks. On the verge of telling the Bakulu captain, Paka paused to consider for a moment. If the Keesius took out the dreadnought, it would be a loss, certainly. But there were more than enough ships left—even in the meager squadron she still commanded—to finish the job.

  “What is it?” Glashpooka.

  “Nothing,” Paka said. “You were right; it is just an Egleesius, and one is no danger to the dreadnought. Still, we had best keep back while Admiral Galantrooka deals with it, just to be safe.”

  All three of Captain Glashpooka’s eyes regarded her for a long moment, then one looked at the SitCon and another at the TacCom. The battlespace showed the screening ships beginning to fire on the Keesius with lasers and missiles. All were dealt with by the ship’s shields. Over the next several minutes, the weapons fire intensified quickly. The Keesius burned all four of its fusion torches—one more than the Egleesius possessed—at maximum output, driving the ship at greater than 20 Gs of thrust. Then, the entire forward section opened up like the petals of a flower.

  “What is happening?” Glashpooka asked as the Keesius ran through the enemy screen. Cruisers, frigates, and battlecruisers desperately tried to get out of its way while still maintaining fire on the insanely acting ship. Glashpooka turned all three eyes on Paka.

  Paka saw the open petals of the Keesius’ superstructure sparkling like slag dropping from a welder’s torch. She calmly disconnected her pinplants from the ship’s direct data relay and waited. A second later, in the midst of the dreadnought’s screen of dozens of ships, the Keesius detonated.

  The antimatter explosion was several orders of magnitude larger than the missiles the merc guild fleet had employed. The blast was a light second across while the radiation and EMP shockwave ripped out over three light seconds. In a fraction of a second, all the dreadnought’s screening vessels were destroyed or disabled.

  * * *

  MGS New Era, Approaching Prime Base, New Warsaw System

  After a quick meeting between Walker and Valenti, the Asbaran Solutions’ forces had continued to the engineering section, while the Horde forces had continued on toward the CIC. They needed control of both spaces in order to fully capture the ship, and they were playing for the win. Joining forces would have increased their odds of taking one or the other, but they needed both.

  Walker wasn’t sure who’d gotten the better of that deal; the Asbaran troopers had to walk about 1/3 of the way along the outer deck to get to engineering, while his troops had to get to a ramp and go about half a mile into the core of the ship to reach the CIC.

  No matter which way they went, he expected that the command eleme
nt in the CIC was watching their movements and setting up blocking positions in front of them. A loudspeaker announcement had played several times warning of their arrival and had instructed the ship’s crew to stay out of the corridors. It only made sense—it kept the Horde forces from killing any of their technicians they’d need later. Even though the technicians might be able to get in a lucky shot that killed or disabled a CASPer, the odds were that the unarmored Bakulu would die in prodigious heaps compared to any real damage they’d do to the invaders.

  That part was helpful to Walker, as it kept the noncombatants out of the way. As the ship was already at battle stations when they’d boarded, he was sure the ship’s marine forces were already wherever they needed to be, and he doubted those forces were Bakulu; those positions would either be subcontracted out to more warlike races, or other races like the Zuul that had been hired by the Bakulu company that had the contract.

  Walker noted after a few minutes that, in fact, they hadn’t seen anyone besides the mercs at the barricade. Whoever was handling the damage control must also be routing their forces around his, because they hadn’t seen any of them, either. It was obvious they were being watched and it made his skin crawl…it was just a matter of when they would be hit. And the longer they went without being hit, the more time the defenders had to make the traps they were setting nasty.

  They’d also lost comms with the Asbaran Solutions force once they’d gone a little farther down the passageway, confirming his feelings that their comms were being jammed. There might be additional Horde or Asbaran forces that had made it…but they wouldn’t be able to coordinate with them. He was sure the defenders were working to pick them off piecemeal, and he shivered involuntarily as he wondered when it would be their turn.