by M.A. Harris
Kick-In
Howard Conrad stood on the balcony of his chalet and looked out to sea. The moon was low on the horizon, so it wasn’t washing out the world with its silver light yet. The lights of the port and the two freighters at the dock were bright enough to wash out some of the details but it still felt like he could see out into infinity. Looking up he felt like he could see a billion stars.
There was a distant double crack of a sonic boom, he strained his ears, but couldn’t hear anything else. One of the space fighters on the way up or down from near earth space. They’d shifted to smaller patrols and single ship replacement flights. In two battles they had lost six fighters, more than a third of their force, so they were risking the remainder in smaller packets, which in itself was a risk.
They were talking about stripping the Stacks out of the damaged MoonDream and using them to build more fighters, but progress was painfully slow on that. The ex-Aristide Industries engineers and technicians were at best resentful, at worst rebellious and treacherous. There were talented native engineers on Palalo Sadong but the population was too small for there to be many. And they were mostly electrical or civil engineers, all the second tier were manufacturing types, there wasn’t one aerospace engineer on the whole island.
So now there was talk of bringing in Chinese engineers and training them on the Stack technology. They had more than enough talented engineers to do the job, though there was a question if they had time now, even with a nearly infinite pool of talent. Giving their secret to the Chinese scared Conrad and though Mindow would never admit it, it had to have him worried or he would have already done it.
“General Conrad.” A feminine voice from the shadows.
Howard turned, “Yes Anita?”
“Major Maguire has stopped by; he asks if you are available?”
He nodded, “Send him out Anita.”
A bow, “Yes General.” She turned with a swish of her sari.
A few moments later the dim light coming from the sitting room was occluded by a broad shadow, “General Conrad?”
“Yes major?”
“You said you wanted to be told when the special packages were installed in the platforms. All ten of the specials are ready. The bombardment units will be ready for flight tomorrow. The four guided missile units are already on their way to orbit.”
Conrad didn’t feel particularly relieved, but what could he say, “Good Major, good work.”
“Thank you sir, but as you know, it was Halberg who has been pushing the armorers and technicians to complete the work.”
The general shrugged into the dark, “I know Terry, but I am damned if I am going to congratulate the arrogant, treacherous, murderous shit for creating the toys he so desperately wants to play with.” He found himself shaking with rage at the very thought of Halberg, somehow that shocked him profoundly. He turned away from Maguire and grasped the railing savagely.
Maguire was silent, astonishingly undemanding; Conrad realized that he couldn’t leave what he had said alone, “Halberg’s become one of the Admiral General’s pets Terry. He and Foster are hardly bothering to tell me what they are doing, and the Admiral General does not go through the chain of command to get them to do things. Essentially I have lost control of a large fraction of the Space Force, and I am very afraid of what the three of them will do.”
“Agreed General…you probably realize that the Admiral General has been in contact with me and Micah and Giselle?”
Conrad snorted, “They told me, thank you for telling me.”
“This situation is getting out of hand General; our space control forces are nearly evenly matched. We have a massive advantage in space based strike forces but that’s only useful over the long term. Also, if the US were to decide to simply accept the damage we could mete out they could crush us, without using nuclear weapons. We need guile and intelligence to win, and that means we need unity of command.”
“The Admiral General has plenty of guile and intelligence Terry.”
“Perhaps as a political animal and terrorist, but he is playing on the world stage. If he held all the cards he could perhaps carry on like he is, but given our precarious position we cannot afford to make any missteps, cannot afford to let world opinion turn from largely neutral or even slightly supportive, to negative, or even worse, condemnatory. It won’t take people long to realize we are not all seeing, all powerful. Especially now Luna Haven has made common cause with the US.”
Conrad barked a laugh, “President Richards…damn it to hell, why didn’t that cross my mind? The man has become my Nemesis Major…he dogs me and seems to be there tripping us up at every turn.”
A growl, “Perhaps, he was always more than just a brilliant engineer, but he had a lot of help and not all of it from those on his side.”
Conrad chuckled grimly, nodding, “Mindow is too cocky, I was too blind, I still do not understand Olarik’s change of sides, and his ability to bring the garrison to heel. And not just that, I don’t see him risking his forces in an ambush like he did. And the US would never have trusted him. . An Olarik run Luna Haven wouldn’t have been the problem a Richards dominated one is. To be honest, I believe that the nuclear option may be the only one to deal with him, he is poison of a kind we cannot allow to spread.”
Maguire turned, “You really hate Richards that much?”
“No… I rather like and admire him. Still, he is in our way and I am afraid of what he might do, success and failure ride on a thin edge at the moment.”
Silence stretched, Maguire finally broke it, “There is a rumor that you plan on having the Revenge’s Stacks removed for installation in a new class of space fighters?”
“Sorry about your command Terry, but it’s been suggested, I think in the end it would be best. I was going to discuss it with you in morning.”
Maguire shrugged, “Not a problem, I’m just afraid it is too late, and that it will force us to realize that we are not technically self-sufficient. I knew we weren’t but I hadn’t realized how profoundly crippled we are, out here in the middle of the wastelands of the Pacific.
Conrad grunted, “Yes we are.” Silence stretched, Conrad glanced at his watch, “It’s getting late Major, would you like a nightcap?”
“Delighted, General.”
The two men turned and went indoors.
-o-
Some hours later came a knock and the soft call, “General?”
Conrad glanced up from his snifter of brandy, “Yes Anita?” she stood silhouetted in the doorway.
“Colonel d’Augustine on the comm sir.”
“Send it through.” He glanced at Maguire who was still contemplating his next move in the game of chess they were playing.
“Should I go sir?’
“No, you might need to hear anyway.”
He tapped the button that lit up, “Yes Giselle?”
A panel on the wall that had been a photograph of an aircraft an instant before showed the colonel’s ugly face, “Do not know what it means but Olarik’s space craft have left Luna. At least I believe they have.” She corrected herself, “Indications are they may all have left some time ago though Olarik is making every effort to hide that fact.”
Conrad glanced at Maguire who was sitting upright listening intently, the general looked back at the screen, “Have your spy eyes, or our friend’s, seen anything interesting on Earth, in Europe or the US? Anything new on the US connection, anything to report from our friends there?”
D’Augustine shook her head, “That one report of a munitions shipment moving to the Alaskan Air Base appears to have been false. I still have the base and the munitions depot under watch. Nothing at the depot and it would appear that they are holding some kind of arctic search and rescue maneuvers at the air base. Something to do with that may have triggered a false report, I don’t know.”
She grimaced then shrugged, looking if anything, more gloomy, “My intelligence sources tell me that there i
s a groundswell of resistance to the administration doing anything rash, but then those sources are highly focused on economic, industrial and business policy and issues, and most of the commercial world wants this all to blow over and go away so they can go back to making money.”
The general lifted his brandy and sniffed, frowning, “Do you think the US and Luna forces could be planning something, could that be why they sortied?”
“Given the level of dissension in the Administration I find it hard to believe they could have decided to do anything - though the President has been very quiet. As far as the US military, I don’t know, their surge, lightning strike capability, has expanded over the last decade. Three of the Ohio class missile boats rebuilt as cruise missile platforms are at sea, location unknown. The Pacific Fleet is at sea on the edge of striking distance. It’s split into two task forces that have been playing war for some days. As you know I’m keeping a sharp eye on them. They know very well that any surviving strike fighters would return to find their fleet sunk.”
“Any other significant forces in the area?”
“The two LHA’s and their escorts sailed from Sunatra City, last night with their escorts, but they are a negligible force. They were as much hostage as threat, I was surprised the US Navy hasn’t pulled them away before.”
Conrad frowned, “But that does present a fairly significant force of marine assault craft within striking distance of us. Their high-speed landing craft could reach Mindow City from Sunatra City’s port. And the tiltrotors could easily reach New Port.”
A polite sneer, “The air and sea defenses of New Port are impregnable to any such force and Mindow City is well enough protected to present a problem unless they commit all available forces. They could take Mindow City but we would counterattack from here and the Bombardment Platforms would obliterate the LHA’s.”
The general nodded as the Colonel spoke, “So your main concern is the Luna Haven spacecraft?”
“The Command Platform is still relatively exposed sir. With the high guard fighters, the laser, and auto cannon it is certainly not an easy target, but if they made a maximal effort they could destroy it.”
Conrad shrugged, “You know my opinion Colonel; it is not key to our forces or plans and it absorbs resources that are quite valuable. We could simply abandon it, strip out the weapons and propulsion systems and leave it in cold storage until our strategic situation has improved.”
Maguire was interested to see that Giselle d’Augustine’s outraged expression was even uglier than her other expressions, “General you cannot be serious. Without the command platform we would have a great deal more trouble controlling the reconnaissance and bombardment platforms.”
The General was unmoved, “But you could still operate both, granted it would be more laborious and time consuming, but you have a staff for that. All the platforms pass nearby every orbit or so to dump data and receive orders but at worst that means a lag of an hour or so for long range strikes, hardly critical.”
The colonel seemed at a loss, “General…I feel you are underestimating the importance of the command platform. Though, I suppose it is safe enough, if Olarik attacks it he will pay dearly and may resolve many of our problems for us. It is likely that the Alexis and the fighters are on Earth picking up supplies or even transferring refugees, there is a rumor that some of the citizens of the so called Luna Republic have decided it is safer to return to their home planet.”
Conrad nodded, “Good, let me know if any more information comes through, wake me if necessary.”
D’Augustine nodded, “Understood sir, good night.”
“Good night colonel.” Conrad tapped the comm button and the screen flicked back to the picture of an old aircraft.
“The natives are restless general.” Maguire said with a light laugh.
Pale eyes in a serious face focused on him, “Perhaps. I don’t like the situation. We have no tactical depth to absorb a defeat. I also think Colonels d’Augustine and Foster are overly enamored with the bombardment platforms.”
“In combination with the lasers on the fighters and the Implacable they are a formidable weapon system.” Maguire almost slipped and called the ship the MoonBeam instead of Implacable, the name given her by the Admiral General.
“But we have no reserves Major, except in bombardment platforms. No new forces working up. No new ships, fighters or platforms and no new Stacks being produced. The best we can do is cannibalize what we have for the moment. And this situation could last for months to come. Strip us of the bombardment platforms and there will be a US Marine General in Mindow City dictating terms a few hours later.”
-US Pacific Fleet Task Force Ronald Reagan, Mid Pacific-
It was well after dark but deep in the Raygun’s guts the Flag Watch Room’s virtual reality wall clearly showed the CA-200 Courier coming to an abrupt halt on the Ronald Reagan’s arrestor wire.
“What do you think he wants?” Admiral Clancy Foote muttered to his flag captain Randolph Welch.
“Has to be the mess with PS and the Lunies.” The captain replied, the Luna Republic’s slang name had caught on in less than a day. “I’ll go greet the admiral.
The Admiral grunted in agreement, probably to both statements.
Fifteen minutes later the door to the Watch Room opened, the two flight suited officers who entered looked a little disheveled, the four CA-200’s were designed to carry up to four passengers or equivalent cargos over Pacific ranges at supersonic speeds, comfort had never been one of its design goals and everyone who flew in one agreed the designers had succeeded in avoiding making it comfortable.
“Admiral, a surprise visit, what’s up?” Admiral Foote grumped at his superior as Davies came through the door after Captain Welch, the senior admiral was followed by a slightly built captain Clancy Foote had never seen before.
“Hello Clancy, long time no see.”
“And I was expecting it to be even longer, what brings you out here Griff?” The two were old friends, and competitors.
“Just passing through but I have some eyes only orders, that you and Captain Welch need to read, and act on. And we don’t have a lot of time.” He waved at the captain, “Captain Welch, Admiral Foote, this is Captain Jenkins. I just kidnapped him and brought him along as an advisor, Derry, let the gentlemen have their packages.”
The three men exchanged greetings as Derry handed out the paper copies with their attached data chips which both sea officers immediately uploaded to their tablet computers. Both men halted at almost the same moment and looked up at Davies, who smiled his Buda smile and waved them back to the orders.
“Shit, are you guys crazy Griff?” Foote rubbed his eyes.
Davies shrugged, “Possibly but I’m also a very worried man Clancy. Very worried that the civvies are going to let this Admiral General get his feet on the ground if we don’t act....”
“Admiral Foote.” Interrupted a light female voice, “You have an incoming message via satellite link., the message is single use, max encrypt to your key.”
“Decrypt at my command.” The Admiral pressed his thumb onto a flat panel embedded in his desk.
“Message Start, this is a Presidential war alert stop, code follows stop, do what Davies tells you, end of message.”
Welch went to a wall comm panel, “This is Welch, where did that message come from? I thought our satellites were all down and the civs weren’t giving us encrypted bandwidth?”
“This is Atkins sir, on passive track, the message came from an unlisted satellite, the code is registered in the system. I cannot spot it with passives and we’re at EMCON one so I can’t try and ping it with a radar.”
“What the hell?” Welch glared at Davies.
“One of the Luna Republic’s ships. Your orders are there in black and white gentlemen. Your battle exercise continues tonight...except it is going to up tempo, the weapons are going to be real and the ‘exercise’ is anything but. This
is a combined ops and will end with us blasting that SAM trap called New Port to rubble and landing marines to rescue the US citizens that asshole kidnapped. I intend to be with those Marines, so we must be on our way. Have fun, don’t bother to escort us out Randy, you and Clancy have a lot of work to do. Cheers.” And he was gone.
-Luna Hopper-
The Luna Hopper was an unrecognizable lump under layers of radar adsorbing and other materials. Six tetrahedrons, triangular pyramids, made from the same radar and light adsorbent materials made the flat face effectively invisible to active sensors. Each pyramid was a separate infantry delivery vehicle with six Luna Marines, lead by Sunil Sukala. Patsy hoped the Sadongese guerilla leader was as good as Olarik thought.
She fought the gees as the Hopper swerved to avoid some low earth orbit crud. Below them the Pacific was as black as space with constellations of island villages and ships. They had powered down from high orbit in the edge of the Earth’s shadow, as far from Palalo Sadong and the Command Platform as possible, now they were arcing low over Earth’s atmosphere, killing orbital velocity and transitioning to pure powered flight.
On the navigation screen the last of their orbital velocity sloughed away and she started up, they were going straight up at the command platform. In less than an hour they would either be a long way to victory or a lot of people would be dead and many more doomed.
She wondered what it was like up in the tiny tent like structures, crammed into couches being thrown around in the dark.
-Luna Marine Strike Force Alpha-
Even with the Gee Suit inflated Sunil found breathing under sustained two, almost three gees difficult. The tiny display mounted on a simple post next to his knee showed they were now on the final climb.
Straining against the pressure he wondered how a boy from a simple highland farming and fishing village found himself soaring high above his birthplace to attack his people’s enemies. There was something mythic about it, with elements of farce, only time and chance would resolve how those elements would interweave with death and tragedy to result in martial glory, tragedy or dark comedy.
Fortunately he didn’t feel the need to worry about getting to the scene of that resolution. He trusted Patsy to deliver his force to the designated point at the designated time. What worried him was his own ability to maneuver and fight his troops in zero-g.
Olarik had approached him the day of the Turnover about the Luna Marines. The Kazakh had admitted that he had no infantry combat officers, the ex mercenary forces on the moon were mostly techs with only ten combat types. The sixteen surviving guerillas with Sunil were a big boost. They also had ten volunteers from the civilian population, all with some military background which had been a godsend. The guerillas, though all young, were also relatively well educated, even tiny Sathwathet, ‘his’ corporal’s younger sister had brought her grammar school certificate with her to the jungle.
They had started training in the Alexis the day after Olarik had made his request. They’d spent time weightless and under heavy gees every day since. At first in the hold of the Alexis, later in the dark of open space, people had gone spinning off in all directions, at first, and three had turned out to have no tolerance for weightlessness at all. For the rest, practice had solved most of the problems; the semi-autonomous maneuvering packs solved the rest. They self stabilized and took you where you pointed the designator. He hoped few people would need the assistance, if they wandered into the line of sight of an active weapon director, they would be dead.
As they exercised he’d learnt how to keep his bearings and mostly keep track of his teams. He’d eventually figured out how to get them into position to fire their weapons and ‘suppress’ their ‘target.’ One time everything had gone right and the umpires had declared he’d been able to force entry into the command platform. But that had all been in practice and success had come at a grim price, more than half the attacking force had been ruled killed.
Corporal Faswethet stretched, attracting Sunil’s attention, “Soon captain?”
He was amazed to see that time had fled, “Ten minutes Corporal…five till the gees drop.”
She sighed, “Good, I had wondered if I had woken too soon.” She stretched again.
He’d wondered a bit at how still she had been but the fact that she had been asleep floored him. How could she be that calm? He shook his head, “Schmitz, Garibaldi, Rostokov, Muhammad, Sathwathet, you all awake?”
Clicks followed by various versions of ‘yes sir’ followed.
Sunil stretched carefully, the landing pods were essentially fabric over frames, shaking the light structure could distort the flat surfaces enough to send a signal back to any radar shining its beam this way. It was at close range that the prismatic shape of the structure was most important, reflecting radar energy away from the receiver rather than back to it.
The acceleration fell away, Patsy’s cheerful voice came over his earphones, “Sunil the CP’s still in position. One minute till release, Good Luck and Good Hunting, Hopper out.”
Sunil tapped his comm, “OK folks, one minutes till we are weightless, two till the retros fire and we impact the enemy’s shield.” Hopefully without tearing through or bouncing off. “Everyone make sure you’re fastened down and you have backup quick snaps available, I don’t want anyone floating off. All pod leads, when you get the two-second to impact tone blow your stealth shroud, anchor teams have your backup anchors ready. Snipers get clear and in a position with your sniping rifles. Support teams, when your platform is anchored open the belly port and cut a hole in the shield, if that doesn’t work get clear and set up as soon as possible. You all know the plan, follow it and we should be golden.”
With no other warning they were weightless, a jerk then another nothing. They had a final minute. A minute that seemed to last forever, then the rocket pack fired. Sunil felt as if he was going to pass out, acceleration was more than five gee’s for a few seconds and the pod bucked and swayed in a seemingly uncontrolled and uncoordinated way. He had no control, all they could do was hang on and pray. The display unit he’d been monitoring glowed a semi comforting green.
A bleep in his ear and his finger tightened on the discard trigger, the crack of the explosive bolts blowing the panels were only signaled by painful shocks through the floor. The six pyramids, as black as the surrounding space, shed their sides in the same instant, filling local space with two dozen identical sized and shaped targets.
The pods fell base first into the five hundred foot diameter disk of radar absorbent cloth stretched across a framework of lightweight graphite rods built something like an immensely complex umbrella. All six impacted the disk within less than a second of each other, spread out across most of its face. The thin composite skeleton bent to absorb the impact; some joints gave way but most simply flexed and held.
One platform near the periphery tore through the cloth and its skeletal backing, spinning into the space between the shield and the platform. One of the secondary anchors caught, the other didn’t. The disk twisted around the anchor hurling bodies into space with a savage jerk, before that last anchor gave way. Three of the passengers somehow leapt for the shield and made it. One leapt at the wrong instant and was hurled away from the shield and the command platform. It took only a few seconds for the defensive laser to find a new target and fire, the flailing trooper died in a grisly splash of superheated flesh and plastic. The spinning floor panel with two disoriented and terrified troopers still strapped to it continued to spin slowly towards the command platform.
Sunil’s platform came to a stop after a sickening lurch, he found himself floating towards the edge of his little landing craft. He saw Sathwathet and the Corporal heading towards a nearby tear in the shield where a side panel had punched part way through before becoming lodged in the underlying skeleton.
A few meters away he saw a flash of fire and a spume of smoke as a rocket launcher team on another pl
atform got off a round.
“Captain?” The Sergeant’s voice was calm.
“Good to hear from you Sarge, how are you doing?”
“Not the best zur, my lander punched through the edge of the shield. We lost our sniper to the laser and my rocket team is still strapped onto the floor panel, now its blockin part of the line of sight between us and the platform.”
“Get your assault team ready then, we should have the defensive system suppressed soon.” He realized that he almost believed himself.
“Aye zur.”
Nearby one of the other floor panels suddenly erupted, jerking and flailing as explosives ripped into it from beneath. A round detonated under the rocket launcher team, sending fragments of the two spinning into the depths of space.
Not far away another panel lit up, it took Sunil a second to realize the graphite composite of the panel was fluorescing under the impact of the command platforms laser. Apparently one of the rocket launchers crew realized the same thing, twisting and leaping to get clear. At almost the same instant the laser found the firing port, the launcher and spare rockets vanished in a blinding flash.
Sunil felt something hit him sharply in the chest and his arm snapped backwards without his volition. He’d been about to snap a safety line onto a new purchase, found himself arcing through space on the end of the other line. He hit the surface of the shield still struggling to see if he had been wounded. Apparently not, the outer armorcloth coveralls had protected him though his arm was aching.
A yell, “The laser’s director just blew up!” Sunil was fairly sure the voice was Sathwathet’s. He turned to look that way. Realized he couldn’t really tell where she was in relation to him. He did see a sniper nearby, firing through the tear next to one of the discarded side panels, he wasn’t sure if it was Sathwathet or not. The panel flailed as explosive shells started to shred it, one of the rounds impacted next to the sniper. Sunil wanted to whimper as the headless and armless body arced up and over on the end of its now pointless safety line.
Trying to keep from breaking down Sunil focused on the assault teams. He saw one, two, three, four, five of them, one short but that was to be expected. “Assault team one, what’s your status?”
“Attached to the wire, ready to go on the order Captain.” Came Faswethet’s voice, phlegmatic as ever.
A voice interrupted, “This is rocket team five, we got the auto cannon. Looks like the two fighters got away, I think we are clear.”
Sergeant Thompson spoke, “Assault teams lead here. I agree Captain.”
Sunil didn’t hesitate, “Teams one through three go.”
Fire flashed around the team he was watching as the detcord cut a hole through the shield then they were gone as the rocket pack attached to the guy wire pulled them through the hole and ‘up’ towards the command platform.
Sunil finally found a location where he could look through the shield and still be able to look out on this side as well. “Rocket teams call out.”
“Team five,” one, “Team four,” two, “Team two.” No more, his stomach clenched, Rostokov and Schmitz were gone then. That made him even more reluctant to make the next call, “Snipers roll call.”
“Sniper six,” one, “Sniper three,” two, “Sniper two” and then, almost shockingly, a familiar light voice, “Sniper one.”
He wanted to sob his relief, but swallowed his emotions, “Rocket teams five and two get turned around to cover our rear, sniper six and two same thing. Other teams and snipers keep our assault team covered.”
“Captain, this is medic Sams sir.”
“What is it Sams?”
“I have five wounded on flat five sir, could you have rocket launcher team five move away, they could attract fire onto the wounded.” The man’s voice had a rather offended tone.
“Sams, why did you set up on a flat with an active rocket team?”
“Uh…wasn’t thinking about it sir…”
“Well, we’ll just have to hope the worst is over won’t we, keep working and keep your head down.”
“Uh…yes sir.”
“Fighter, twelve o’clock high.” Sang out a voice that turned into a scream as a laser found a target, Sunil saw a rocket team crewman’s upper body explode.
A rocket flashed upward. Someone in one of the backup assault teams had fired a shoulder-launched rocket at the silver minnow that had appeared overhead.
What the silver minnow didn’t know was that it had more than them to worry about. As it twisted there was a flash of intense blue light and the tee tail blew off and spun away from the hull to cheers and jeers. “Keep your head’s it’s not dead yet,” Sunil yelped. The tail was just a vestige up here, it meant nothing. The fighter lurched forward as its pilot realized the danger, then the fighter shuddered again, there was a gout of fire and smoke just behind the cockpit and the hull split in two, each part pirouetting in a different direction.
Sunil spun back to the more important fight as he heard Faswethet’s voice, “Assault one. We are on the platform but we can’t get forward to get the explosives placed. Assault two is gone, the other fighter killed them.” Another voice, a less familiar accented voice, “Assault three, we have lost two people to a fighter. It’s off the Platforms nose, pops out to fire and then gets back into cover.”
Sunil yelled, “Team four, sniper one, get to the edge of the shield, see if you can get that fighter under fire. Backup see if you can get team five’s rocket launcher out to the other edge of the shield, get that fighter under a cross fire.”
A series of aye sir’s followed by figures bounding across their odd black field of battle.
“Sir!” it was Faswethet, her voice raised in fear.
“Take that you Bastard, shoot at my sister will you?” snarled Sathwathet’s normally gentle voice.
That was followed a second later by, “Holy ones, Sathy! Good shooting!”
“What’s happening Faswethet?” yelled Sunil, he couldn’t see anything through his slit in the shield material. Then he saw a flash of metal, a minnow twisting and receding then hidden again.
A remarkably girlish giggle preceded her words, “Sorry sir, thought my days were done, the fighter was right on top of us, must have seen us take cover. Sathwathet shot out its laser director; I was looking right down the muzzle of the devilish thing when she did it.”
“Good, how’s your team?”
“All accounted for.”
Sunil glanced around, “Sergeant, get the backup assault teams up there.”
He heard the sergeant’s voice barking. He saw figures moving up the side of the platform as the other teams fell up along the wires. No more sign of the defending fighter.
“Captain! This is team four.” Sunil glanced that way and saw the fading smoke of a rocket launch.
“Yes team four?”
“We see the fighter sir, I took a shot but it’s at extreme range and it’s falling away fast, I think it’s retreating. I think Sath pulled its teeth.”
“Thanks te…”
“Captain!” Corporal Faswethet’s voice.
“Yes?”
“Charges are placed. The remainder of team three is with me now.”
“Detonate now!” He yelled.
“Detonating.”
Sunil saw the burst of dust fountain from around the edge of the cylinder. He swore, hoping that Faswethet was alive. If the crew inside had dumped the air and gotten prepared this could get bloody. Should he have waited for the backups? The seconds passed. He saw the backup teams flowing up the side of the platform and out of sight.
“Captain.” It was team three’s leader, what was the man’s name? Jones?
“Yes Jones?”
“We’re inside sir. Assault one lead is down, sir but we have taken the platform. The main deck, it’s pretty badly shot up. Most of the crew is dead, but a few of them surrendered.
Sunil’s throat clogged, he forced words past
it, “Good, good Jones.”
He flipped channels, “Sergeant, you know the drill.”
The sergeant’s voice came back as calm as ever, “Aye sir, ‘eard Jones zur. I’m inside now, and the interior’s not bad. The Corporal’s going to be OK, looks like she was ‘it in the lower leg, she’s patched and braced. Out of it right now but her team second say’s the telltales are green, zur.”
“Thanks, Sarge.” He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, “thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome, zur. I’ll work on getting a link set up with Luna.”
Sunil rolled over so he could look at the glimmering blackness of Earth. Far below him other friends were going to war. All he could do for them he had done, it was up to them now.