“Very good,” Husher said. “Tremaine, fire the primary laser.”
“Firing primary, sir.”
The great beam speared across space, striking the destroyer on its nose and causing it to warp. It began to maneuver out of the way, but before it could, its prow ruptured, prompting a chain reaction that consumed its whole hull.
The carrier they’d targeted with their broadside was managing to mop up the missiles, but moments after the destroyer’s destruction, Ayam succeeded in neutralizing his carrier.
Husher could sense his crew’s mood spiking, but before it could manifest in cheering, Winterton cut it back down to size: “One of our destroyers just went down. And Captain Norberg lost two of her own battle group ships.”
Two of theirs, three of ours. Jaw clenched, Husher said, “Coms, order all Pythons to withdraw from the Progenitor formation and then form up around the Vesta.”
“Aye, sir.”
Chapter 58
Hail of Bullets
Gabriel Roach was stronger than ever before—even since merging with the alien mech. It was everything Jake could do to dodge or fend off his attacks, and so far he’d barely been able to launch any attacks of his own.
Energy blasts ripped up the ground near his feet, and then one connected, sending him sprawling face-first onto the ground. He scrambled to regain his footing, then sprinted toward a nearby warehouse for some cover.
Roach had him on the run.
Just before Oneiri had left the Steele System, Roach had begged Jake to take him with them. He’d promised that he’d changed, that he’d learned to control the alien mech.
Jake had flatly refused. After Roach had killed Richaud, there was no way they could trust him again.
Either way, Roach had clearly shed his desire to rejoin Oneiri. He’d joined the Progenitors instead, who’d made him even more monstrous than before.
And more powerful.
Jake rounded the corner of the warehouse, but Roach simply crashed through the corner an instant later, obliterating it and knocking Jake to the ground, pinning him. A large metal fist crashed down into Jake’s face—his mech’s face, technically, but the mech dream made it feel like his. Sparks and shrapnel flew, and the pain made Jake bellow, his desire to kill Roach intensifying.
Roach raised his fist again, then paused. Absurdly, he began to chuckle. “If only you knew what I know, Price,” he said, his voice barely recognizable. “They showed me the truth, and it’s…” Roach shook his head, laughing some more. “Your new captain’s in for a shock.”
Jake twisted hard to the right, his left hand becoming a blade darting toward Roach’s face. An arm raised to block it, but Roach recoiled at the same time, giving Jake the purchase he needed to shove him off and slip out from beneath him.
He ran.
“You should never have turned against Darkstream, Price!” Roach yelled, following up his words with an energy blast that sizzled past Jake’s shoulder.
He’s insane, Jake thought as he entered an alleyway just large enough for his mech. Darkstream is gone.
Forming energy cannons of his own, he turned once he made it halfway down the alley, ready to confront Roach. But he didn’t appear. Instead, something crashed into one of the upper stories of the building on his right, just out of sight. Suddenly, Roach was hurtling at him from above, arms converted into javelins.
Jake ran backward, blasting Roach in midair, then ducked into another alley that opened on his left—its location sheer dumb luck. He spun around just as his assailant was crashing to the cracked asphalt. Roach turned to level his javelins at Jake once more.
Glancing back, he saw that this alley terminated in a dead end.
Jake’s eyes lifted to the strip of sky above. I can rocket out, if it comes to that. Roach would try to intercept him, but it might be his only avenue of escape.
“Hey,” someone called from the street they’d just left, and Roach turned toward the sound. “This is for Richaud!”
High-velocity rounds began to pepper Roach’s mech, opening small craters in the scaled metal and forcing him to fall back a step. Then he rallied, charging into the hail of bullets.
Jake dashed to the intersection of alleys, rounding the corner just in time to see Roach impale Marco Gonzalez with one of the javelins meant for Jake.
Turning, Roach hefted the MIMAS, which flailed ineffectually. Marco’s still alive, Jake thought, feeling more horrified than hopeful. Mostly, he felt numb, and through that numbness he again marveled at Roach’s strength. Jake doubted his mech could hold a MIMAS aloft with such ease.
He charged at Roach, and everything seemed to slow. The hulking mech’s other hand became an energy cannon, and he placed the barrel against the MIMAS’ chest.
He fired, blowing a jagged hole clean through the machine.
Jake crashed into Roach, using thrusters to supplement his momentum. The MIMAS slid from Roach’s weapon as they hurtled across the street and through a concrete wall.
They continued into a parking garage, connecting with a metal pillar that bent but didn’t break. Roach worked the energy cannon’s barrel between them so that it lay against Jake’s stomach, and he twisted away, barely avoiding the blast. The cannon became a fist, and Roach stepped forward, twisting into the blow and sending Jake staggering backward.
He found his footing, but he couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder toward Marco’s MIMAS. He glimpsed it on the street outside, laying there, motionless.
Turning back, he barely managed to deflect the javelin Roach drove toward his head.
Chapter 59
With a Whimper
Major Gamble had left Sergeant Jeremy Peterson in command of the six marine platoons still on the Vesta, so that’s who Husher contacted to check on their status, praying the man was still alive.
“Peterson here, Captain.” Gunfire sounded in the background, and the sergeant seemed out of breath.
“Do you have the Ravager situation under control, Sergeant?”
“Working on it, sir. A lot of them made it through, and I’ve lost some good people to them. Hard to react in time when one of those things comes out of the bulkhead on top of you. But I have marines guarding all the vital systems, and we’ve fortified every exit from this area of the ship. We have the threat contained, Captain.”
“I want it neutralized, Sergeant. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Make it happen.” Husher closed the channel. Peterson was a good soldier, but Husher needed those robots purged from his ship ten minutes ago. More were on the way.
“Captain Norberg just lost another ship, sir,” Winterton said. “She’s down to five now, including the Eos.”
“Acknowledged,” Husher said, terser than he’d meant to. If we can manage to deal with the four remaining ships confronting the Vesta, and bring the Air Group to Norberg…
He realized it was past time to send Norberg some Pythons for backup. The Progenitors appearing around his ship in a sphere had delayed it, but he didn’t need to wait any longer to send the other capital starship captain some help.
He opened his mouth to give the order to Coms, but Winterton spoke before he could. “Four more Progenitor ships just appeared off our port side, Captain.”
“Damn it!” Husher snapped, and a couple of his officers jumped. That may have been the first time he’d ever cursed inside his CIC since taking command of the ship.
He immediately regretted it—his anger did nothing to help win this engagement, as Winterton’s next words proved: “We’re getting superheating near the bow. The lead destroyer is hitting us with its particle beam, and—”
A colossal explosion rocked the supercarrier, sending Husher hard against the command seat’s right armrest.
“Tactical, answer with a Hydra broadside!” he shouted over the tumult, and Tremaine must have heard him, since he gripped his console and struggled to input the necessary commands in spite of the tremors. “Helm, full reverse
thrust! Get us away from those ships.”
At last, the rumbling subsided, and Husher turned to Winterton, who looked thoroughly shaken. “What was that?”
“One of our main capacitor banks, Captain. That one is always the last to discharge, and the particle beam hit it dead-on.”
“But the shock-absorbent frames are supposed to prevent a catastrophic release of energy.”
“Yes, sir. I know. If I were to speculate, I would say someone may have sabotaged the structure meant to cushion the capacitor. With all the fail-safes that are installed, I simply can’t see this happening naturally.”
“What’s the damage?” On the tactical display, the renewed Progenitor battle group was giving chase as the Vesta sped backward, and Pythons were struggling to protect her from the Ravagers being dumped across the battlespace. Husher needed to do something, but first, he had to know what they’d done to his ship.
“Damage is extensive, sir. Every deck is at least partially exposed to space, top to bottom, and the damage runs from sections four to twenty-seven. A third of our port-side missile tubes have been disabled, and about as many of our point defense turrets. Initial reports give a death toll in the hundreds.”
Husher wanted to put his face in his hands. Instead, he turned to his Coms officer. “Tell damage control to bring second and third watches on duty and start sealing off those sections. Then I need you to put someone on sorting through the personnel lost, to see which other departments need to call on extra crew, and how many.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Spire just appeared on the far side of the eight approaching enemy ships,” Winterton said. “She’s already launched another missile barrage.”
“Very good, Ensign,” Husher said. There’s some positive news, at least.
“Captain,” Fry said, and her strange tone made Husher study her face. “We’re getting an encrypted data stream originating from the hull of one of the newly arrived Progenitor carriers.”
Husher’s eyes widened. “The tracker,” he whispered. Then, louder: “That’s one of the ships we tagged with a tracker. It has to be. Forward all the data to Ochrim, Ensign, and tell him to contact me the moment he’s run his analysis.”
“I will, sir.”
“Tremaine, prepare a salvo of kinetic impactors that cuts across the bows of the enemy ships, and share the firing solution with Commander Ayam once you have it.” We need to help keep them at bay.
“Yes, Captain.”
As he waited for Ochrim to get in touch, Husher studied the tactical display—Norberg’s five ships, facing off with seven Progenitor ships, and he and the Pythons confronting seven more.
The enemy was too well-provisioned. Too powerful. For the first time in his career, he forced himself to accept that defeat was likely inevitable.
His Oculenses alerted him to an incoming call from Ochrim, and he accepted.
The Ixan didn’t bother with formalities. “I’ve decrypted the data, and I can say with very high certainty that the carrier we tagged has been home. At least, it entered a universe where it encountered a very large number of Progenitor ships. That has to be their home dimension.”
“And you were able to glean the route from the data?”
“Yes.”
“Send it to Ensign Fry.” Husher terminated the call and turned once again to his Coms officer. “Ochrim is about to send you a data packet, which I want you to forward to the Spire. For now, get me Commander Fesky.”
Moments later, his old friend appeared on the main display. “Captain. I was just about to transition out again.”
“I’m altering your mission, Commander. You’ll no longer be participating in this engagement.”
Fesky’s head tilted to the right. “Why not?”
He drew a deep breath. “Because I’m no longer confident that victory is possible. In a moment, Ensign Fry will send you an interdimensional route that leads to the Progenitor homeworld. I need you to follow it there. Collect all the intel you can—on their defenses, their fleet, and anything else you deem important. I don’t know how long you’ll have before they spot you, so you’ll need to be quick. The moment you’re threatened, transition back to this universe and report to Admiral Iver. Give him everything you’ve collected, along with the tech for interdimensional travel. Hitting the Progenitors in their home is our only hope for winning this war, Fesky. Everything rides on this.”
The Winger clacked her beak softly. “I understand, Captain.”
“Good. Now go.” Husher terminated the transmission. He had neither the time nor the emotional fortitude to bid his friend the final goodbye he knew the situation called for.
“Prep a mixed barrage of Gorgons and Hydras, Tremaine,” Husher said. “If we’re going out today, we won’t be doing it with a whimper.”
Chapter 60
Metal Giants
A half hour or so after Price fled into the city, hunted by the larger alien mech, Gamble’s marine battalion finished breaking the Ambler and Ravager ranks.
The combined power of the gunships, the remaining mechs, and the marines’ heavy artillery had gotten the job done, in the end. At some point, the mechs must have smelled their own defeat, and they beat an uneven retreat into the city.
Gamble hadn’t hesitated to order his battalion to move in after them. The city was far from lost—there were still plenty of civilians holed up inside their homes, in underground shelters, in grocery stores, in shopping centers. He was going to save those people, or he was going to die trying. He couldn’t see any other option.
Around twenty minutes ago, he’d gotten separated from his squad, and now he roamed alone with his Rk-9 sniper rifle, finding temporary hides wherever he could and picking off Ravagers. The Amblers, he left alone—the sniper rounds wouldn’t do much to them, other than draw the giant mechs to Gamble’s location.
He did alert Oneiri to Ambler locations, and he alerted the gunships too if he thought they could get a good shot. Before entering the city, Gamble had taken all ten of the microdrones he carried with him and tossed them into the sky. Now, they gave him a bird’s eye view of the battle, which he used to give orders over a battalion-wide channel. He was a one-man roving command post, and the Ravagers he took down were an added bonus.
The latest hide—the third story of an apartment building overlooking an empty intersection—netted him three of the metal devils, but when five minutes passed without him spotting any more, he decided to pack up and move to a more forward location.
He left the apartment, which he’d found empty with the door hanging open and a trail of clothes strewn through the hall and into one of the bedrooms. He made his way down the stairs, to the ground floor.
Outside, he hugged the building until he reached the intersection, checking in every direction before crossing.
The skittering of metal feet reached his ears, and he whirled to his left. A pack of Ravagers was pouring out of a side alley and sprinting down the road toward him. Damn. He’d been careless, and now he would pay the price.
Drawing his sidearm, he took aim at the lead Ravager, steadying his aim with his left hand. Five shots took down the lead bot, and he emptied the rest of the clip into the next. It didn’t go down. Gamble fished out another clip, released the first to tumble to the pavement, and slammed in the fresh one before proceeding to finish off his target. He wouldn’t get them all before they made it to him. Not nearly. There were at least thirty of them left. But he would get some.
Automatic gunfire hit the Ravagers from the right, coming out of an alley closer to Gamble than the one the robots emerged from. As one, the Ravagers turned to face their attackers, only for their entire front rank to get mowed down. The remaining robots charged toward the alley, but none of them reached it. Metal corpses littered the street.
Lance Corporal Jenkins stepped out of the alleyway, checking down the street both ways, his R-57 held at the ready. When his gaze fell on Gamble, a grin split his face ear to ear. “Major!
Boys, it’s the major!”
The rest of Teal Squad rushed out of the alley, jogging until they stood in front of Gamble. As one, they saluted crisply.
“We’d been tracking that pack of Ravagers for a while, looking to set a trap for them. Good thing we sprang it before they got to you, Major!”
“You boys have been hitting the sims,” Gamble said, sounding as impressed as he felt.
Jenkins nodded, blushing a little.
“I do believe I owe you all a beer,” Gamble said. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got a city to take back.”
The squad fell in around him, and Gamble could tell they were determined to protect him, without having to be asked. He supposed that was basically their job, but even so, the gesture warmed his heart, almost as much as Teal Squad’s dramatic improvement did.
Gamble followed Teal—more specifically, he followed Corporal Jenkins as he led the way through the tangle of alleys they’d navigated while stalking the Ravager pack. Jenkins said the bots they’d just taken down had broken away from a larger group, back where most of the action was happening. Now, Gamble had to wonder whether the Ravagers had somehow gotten word of him moving from building to building, sniping their fellows. He didn’t raise the prospect to the marines around him, but he considered it a real possibility, and an unsettling one too.
He glanced at the feed from one of his overhead microdrones and saw that they were approaching one of the city’s circular central plazas. When he ordered the drone to telescope in, he saw that two metal giants were doing battle in that same plaza, and he raised his palm to signal a stop to the marines. They halted almost immediately, even Jenkins, who hadn’t seen the gesture but must have noticed the absence of their footfalls. The lance corporal in particular continued to impress Gamble.
“Slow up, marines,” Gamble said. “Price is up ahead, fighting that alien mech that’s even bigger than he is. Looks like there’s an alley ahead to the left, which also lets out onto the plaza. It leads to a main street on the other end, too, so if we’re stealthy and quick, we can maybe execute a three-way flank on that thing. See if we can help Price even the odds.”
Ixan Legacy Box Set Page 47