Galactar (Savage Stars Book 3)

by Anthony James

  “I’ve got our comms system speaking to the Daklan comms system, sir,” said Montero. “There’s a data delay, but it’s better than nothing.”

  The Daklan shuttles and ground vehicle appeared on the tactical, near the desolator and not moving.

  “That’s much better than nothing, Private,” said Recker.

  “And I’ve spoken to Sergeant Vance – the deployment vessel isn’t going anywhere, so he’s ordered the squad to cut a hole through the bay floor to the second Puncher. Private Enfield is going to blow the stuck clamps.”

  “What’s wrong with the deployment vessel?”

  “The underside sensor indicates the launch chute is bent out of shape.”

  “Damn.”

  Recker didn’t bother wondering how long it would take to cut open the floor around the second tank, since he’d asked himself the question earlier and come up with an answer he didn’t like.

  “Sergeant Vance won’t want to miss the party,” said Montero, evidently thinking similar thoughts.

  “I’m certain Sergeant Shadar feels the same.”

  “Those Daklan like to fight, sir.”

  Recker steered the tank around a two-hundred-metre piece of debris which appeared to be part of a missile launch cluster. “You think?”

  “Don’t you, sir?” asked Montero, blinking in surprise.

  “Do you like fighting, Private?”

  Montero had a spark of something – a mind that was wasted on shuttle and tank comms. She opened her mouth and then closed it again without saying anything.

  “Not far to go,” said Recker.

  “I’ll check in with the Daklan again, sir. Find out what the plan is.” Montero saw Recker’s broad smile and her expression became one of confusion. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ask him.”

  Montero got on the comms, though not for long.

  “I asked Captain Jir-Lazan what the plan is, sir.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “We’re going to rip out the gizzards of those four-armed bastards and take the battleships from them. Most of that was a word-for-word quotation.”

  “You were expecting something more?”

  “The straightforward plans are the best plans, sir, that’s what I was always taught.”

  “And right after that you were told the devil is in the detail?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Often the detail slows you down, Private. I’ve seen engagements lost because an officer took too long working out a clever way to do something that was already easy.”

  “Assholes like that never realise real people are dying when they screw up.”

  “That officer was me, Private.”

  Montero turned and Recker was pleased that she didn’t apologise, since it wasn’t needed. “I’m glad you learned, sir.”

  He smiled. “That I did.”

  The journey’s progress carried the tank past the 3000-metre chunk of wreckage and gradually, more of the closest Meklon battleship was revealed. During the heat of the recent combat, Recker hadn’t been able to focus his attention on the two identical vessels, but he remembered they were each 4500 metres in length, with sleek mid- and rear sections, and wedge noses.

  His first impression also made him think these battleships were far older than the Vengeance and he wondered if they were left here on Kemis-5 because they were obsolete, or, given the extensive cratering on their armour plates, too badly damaged to fly. His primary concern was bringing the data cube back to the HPA and for that he required a lightspeed-capable warship. Whatever their limitations or how many repairs they needed, the Meklon craft were the only chance at getting home.

  If they have a high enough lightspeed multiplier and assuming the Gateway didn’t take us across half the universe.

  “The Daklan report we’ve got incoming, sir,” said Montero suddenly. “A Lavorix shuttle from the north-west.”

  “Damnit,” said Recker. He checked the tactical, which showed only friendlies. “I can’t see it.”

  “It must have gone out of the Daklan sensor sight.”

  “Which means it’s coming straight over that big section of warship,” he said.

  Montero quickly adjusted the sensors, just in time to see the enemy shuttle race low over the top of the debris. Recker sized it up quickly and guessed from the vessel’s dimensions and the aggressive approach that it was fitted with some potent weaponry.

  “Big bastard,” Montero observed. “Could fit a couple of hundred troops in that one, easy.”

  “Bandits online,” said Recker, confirming that the tank’s twin shoulder chain gun countermeasures were operational.

  The guns suddenly fired, with a pulsing clank that made normal-volume conversation impossible.

  “Missiles!” said Montero. “Two out of two down!”

  The Bandits cut out as quickly as they’d started. Recker pointed the tank towards a buckled section of armour plating ahead and to the left, while adjusting the aim on the gauss turret by using a touchpad on top of the left joystick.

  “Firing main armament,” he said.

  The coils within the upper turret whined and then discharged in a deep bass expulsion of energy that momentarily increased the air pressure in the cockpit before it dissipated. A massive ball of alloy was ejected from the barrel and it hurtled towards the shuttle. The Lavorix pilot was aware of the danger and he threw his craft to one side, causing the gauss slug to skim wide.

  “Shit, missed,” said Recker.

  His words were drowned out by renewed fire from the Bandit chain guns. This time, Recker saw the orange streaks of twin incoming missiles. The Bandits did their job, smashing the Lavorix warheads to pieces.

  A drumming started up on the hull, like a thousand hammers striking the external plating. The tank was designed to take a beating, but from the volume of the incoming fire, Recker knew the shuttle’s nose gun was too much for the Puncher’s armour to withstand for long.

  “Main armament reloaded,” he yelled, readying himself for a second shot.

  The debris he planned to use for cover came between the tank and the shuttle, causing Recker to hold fire. He pulled back on the joysticks and the tank slowed to a crawl, while remaining out of sight. A check of the tactical told him the Daklan weren’t being passive and their shuttles were moving into a better position to target the enemy vessel.

  “Captain Jir-Lazan reports an increase in enemy activity, sir,” said Montero. “They’re going for the furthest battleship.”

  “Any visible way to access those ships?”

  “Forward boarding ramp on the target ship, sir, and that’s where they’re heading. The nearer one is locked up tight.”

  “If I can reach one of the access panels, I should be able to get onboard,” said Recker. He grimaced. “That’s if my security tier is high enough.”

  “The Daklan shuttles have engaged with the enemy, sir,” said Montero.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  Recker pushed the joysticks forward and the tank leapt into motion. The moment it was clear of the protective debris, Recker slowed it again and hunted for the target. A thickening of the sand over the landing field obscured his view of the Lavorix shuttle, though the sensors detected flickering gauss tracers.

  Orange trails of missile propulsion appeared in the storm’s gloom, travelling at incredible speed. Recker threw the tank into reverse and the Bandits fired once more.

  Too late.

  The fleeting thought called it wrong. One of the missiles was knocked out by the tank’s chain guns and the second detonated in a blinding flash against the edge of the protective debris. From the size of the blast, Recker wasn’t sure the Puncher could withstand even a single direct hit.

  He pushed the joysticks forward again, gambling on the shuttle having a long reload on its missiles. Again, the tank thundered out of cover and Recker stared intently at the sensor feed, seeking the tell-tale shape of the Lavorix vessel.

  “There!�
�� yelled Montero.

  Recker saw it too. Through a stroke of luck, the main armament required almost no adjustment and he squeezed the activation trigger hard. Pressurized bass caught him in the chest and the gun fired just as the airborne sand thinned enough to reveal the target.

  The military didn’t call these Puncher tanks without good reason and the projectile smashed into the Lavorix shuttle with tremendous force. The spaceship’s entire nose section crumpled and a huge, heat-rimmed hole appeared. Whatever was in the cockpit was killed instantly and the transport tilted in the air, while the Daklan shuttles continued bombarding it with slugs from their nose guns.

  “Yes!” said Montero.

  “Down it comes,” said Recker with great satisfaction.

  He gave the engine full power again and the tank accelerated towards the Daklan positions. As soon as the main armament reloaded, he treated the stricken Lavorix shuttle to a second direct hit and the vessel’s weakened hull plummeted towards the ground.

  Not sparing the broken enemy craft any more of his attention, Recker focused on guiding the tank safely to its destination. The journey didn’t take long, though during it, he learned that Sergeant Vance had – using a combination of high explosives and two laser cutters – almost freed the second Puncher tank.

  As a counter to the good news, he also learned via Private Montero that the Lavorix were piling their troops into the further battleship and had landed another shuttle on top of the closest, with the likely intention of entering and securing that one also.

  “Sometimes, I wish things would be just a little easier,” Recker said.

  “Life would be no fun if everything fell in our laps, sir.”

  Recker glanced at Montero and shook his head in mock despair. She responded by asking a question he’d been putting off asking himself.

  “If the Lavorix got some of the Excon-1 weaponry active, won’t they be able to do the same with those battleships, sir?”

  “I don’t know, Private.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Given time, they’ll manage it. How much time, I don’t know.”

  His eyes went to the tank’s velocity gauge and suddenly it didn’t seem like the vehicle was travelling nearly fast enough.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Having been taken unawares by a savage and uncompromising assault from the Axiom and Aktrivisar, the surviving Lavorix were recovering quickly.

  Under guidance from Jir-Lazan, Recker brought the Puncher alongside the shortest edge of the huge section of spaceship which had crashed onto the landing strip. The wreckage towered overhead, emitting heat and other particulate crap which Recker would have preferred to stay away from.

  From here, he was granted a limited view of the new battlefield, though he wasn’t eager to poke his nose too far out just yet. Straight ahead, the front thousand metres of the nearest battleship was visible approximately 1200 metres away. The second was parked parallel and Recker couldn’t see much of that one – only glimpses of its landing legs.

  By this time, he’d learned that the enemy possessed at least two more shuttles and a handful of armoured ground vehicles, these latter being fast-moving, low-profile gravity-engined octagons with deflective sides and chain guns.

  The Lavorix forces had either been permanently stationed in the built-up – and now mostly flattened -north-west of the facility, or they’d been in the process of searching it, and it was from here they emerged, seemingly more concerned to reach the battleships than to kill the Daklan.

  Recker guessed the enemy had more than one reason for acting in this way. Firstly, they’d seen their air support destroyed and were likely unsure if they faced any other warships. Under those circumstances, the interior of a Meklon battleship was the safest place to be.

  Secondly, and most worrying, the Lavorix may well be able to activate the Meklon weapons. Once that happened, all bets were off, unless Recker could beat them to it.

  In typical Daklan style, Jir-Lazan had begun extensive harassment of the Lavorix. Using his two shuttles – one of which he piloted himself - he sprayed the enemy ground vehicles with generous quantities of projectiles. In response, the Lavorix shuttles launched missiles, which the Daklan countered by using their single ground vehicle, which was equipped with an advanced track-and-destroy anti-missile turret.

  It was a dangerous game and one in which both sides had everything to lose.

  “The Daklan cock-gun is the only thing keeping us in this,” said Montero, using the nontechnical description. “It’s taking out the Lavorix shuttle missiles as quickly as they can fire them.”

  Recker had never learned the Daklan name for these particular vehicles and in this instance, he was glad to have the cock-gun on his side. He’d encountered them before – they comprised a solid gravity engine base, upon which sat a turret housing a mini Graler. This multi-barrelled gun could track numerous targets and knock them out of the sky with incredibly accurate bursts of explosive-accelerated gauss slugs. For ground troops, it was immensely frustrating to see not only air-launched missiles being smashed to pieces, but also those fired from shoulder launchers.

  “Shame we were out of its defensive arc when that shuttle came for us,” said Recker.

  “We weren’t. The Daklan only got it working a few minutes ago. Besides, we shouldn’t rely on the cock-gun, sir. They aren’t infallible.”

  “Nothing is.”

  Far away, beneath the shelter of the Aktrivisar’s hull, the miniaturised Graler fired, its barrels turning and spitting out fifty-metre jets of flame. Overhead, Captain Jir-Lazan’s shuttle flew sideways at high velocity, its gunfire raking into one of the octagonal vehicles which darted amongst the landing legs of the closest battleship. Unable to withstand the punishment, the Lavorix vehicle broke into pieces.

  At Recker’s request, Jir-Lazan now had an open channel to the speakers in the Puncher’s cockpit.

  “The enemy are numerous and persistent,” said the Daklan. “For every one of their vehicles we destroy, two more emerge from the distant buildings. I cannot kill them all while evading the attacks from their shuttles.”

  “I’ve got a second tank preparing to deploy,” said Recker, having heard only moments ago that Sergeant Vance had freed the other Puncher.

  “A welcome addition, but perhaps not enough, Captain Recker. We must find a way to access the nearest battleship – a way that does not result in your death.”

  “The battleships have no open receptors, so I can’t even talk to their control computers, let alone transmit my biometric data.”

  “Every warship can be accessed from above,” said Jir-Lazan. “I will find the way, human, and I will fly you to it.”

  While he talked, Recker had an eye on the tactical. Three red dots appeared, coming fast from the north-west corner of the base. Acting at once, Recker guided the tank away from the cover of the debris, whereupon he was granted a view of the entire length of the Meklon battleship, though the rear section was badly obscured by the storm.

  Montero didn’t require prompting and she added a filter overlay which improved the distance focus of the lens. Narrowing his eyes, Recker spotted three grey smears amongst the clouds of sand. He fired the main armament at eight thousand metres and, a split-second later, one of the octagons was overkilled by the Puncher’s gun. Immediately, the other two split, heading erratically left and right.

  “Sergeant Vance is inbound, sir!” said Montero. “He somehow got everyone inside the second Puncher.”

  “We’ll need one of those laser cutters to get them out.”

  “Definitely. The tank’s comms antenna and one of their Bandits was destroyed by…explosives…so I can’t add them to the local battle network. It’s suit comms or nothing.”

  “Suit comms are better than no comms.”

  A warning chimed from the tank’s console and two shuttle-launched Lavorix missiles streaked between the landing legs of the nearest battleship, heading for the Puncher. At the same moment, a previously unseen en
emy soldier fired a shoulder launcher from behind a different landing leg. Recker spotted the shuttle rising to take cover behind the battleship’s hull and didn’t even attempt to re-aim.

  The Bandits clanked and the Daklan mini Graler fired from three kilometres away, while Recker tried desperately to get his tank back into cover. No missiles hit the Puncher. Recker didn’t care which of the countermeasures did the job and he drove the tank forward again, chose his target and fired with a tiny lead. Another of the approaching ground vehicles was taken out.

  The Lavorix shuttle didn’t reappear, but the ground soldier fired a second rocket. This time, Recker was prepared and he took the Puncher straight out of sight and the enemy rocket detonated against the wall of debris.

  “Private Raimi, poke your head out of the topside hatch,” Recker ordered on the comms. Ipanvir was the better shot, but he wasn’t close enough to the exit hatch to get there in a hurry. “There’s a tube soldier hiding fifth outer leg from the battleship’s nose. Give him something to think about.”

  “On it, sir.”

  The hull seal warning flashed a few moments later, allowing heat and ternium particles to flood the interior.

  “Ready, sir. I can’t see the fifth leg.”

  “You will.”

  Recker drove the tank out of cover again. He left Raimi to do his thing and concentrated on the final inbound vehicle. He spotted it at seven thousand metres, cutting left to gain some protection from the battleship’s landing legs. Recker breathed deeply, refusing to be distracted by the launch howl of Raimi’s shoulder tube coming through the passenger bay behind him. A squeeze of the trigger made the Puncher’s gun thunder and the final enemy vehicle was destroyed by a direct hit. Elsewhere, the blast from Raimi’s launcher landed dead on target. The kill was unconfirmed, but no more rockets came from that direction.

  “Want me to stay up here, sir?” said Raimi. “I don’t think the main armament is powerful enough.”