by PP Corcoran
“Make it happen, First Sergeant.”
“You ready, Jackson?” Ethan asked the trooper standing shoulder to shoulder with him in the narrow confines of what looked like a chemical lab of some kind. Both men had their MACs pointed toward the wall only a few feet in front of them.
“Ready,” replied Jackson.
“Advance!” ordered Ethan as he triggered the cannon. Traveling at thirty-six hundred feet per second, the armor-piercing rounds ripped into and through the double thickness reinforced concrete wall, shredding it.
Side by side, the men stepped through the falling masonry and clouds of fractured wall. They maintained the rate of fire and poured rounds into the adjacent wall, which succumbed to the fate of the first.
The third and fourth wall collapsed under the weight of their combined fire until, at last, the pair of CASPers encountered the heavily-reinforced wall of the shielded area. Whether the Besquith operating the strong point were aware they had enemy soldiers on their flank or not didn’t matter as Croll turned his CASPer ninety degrees to the right and let loose a storm of MAC rounds, disintegrating the wall between them and the strong point.
The Besquith were torn to shreds. The 20-millimeter rounds had initially passed through them only to rebound off the strong point’s armor. Though now spent, the rounds still carried significant kinetic energy, and Ethan was so close to his own rounds that they peppered the outside of his CASPer, and his suit’s computer registered them as incoming enemy fire.
“All MAC rounds expended,” his suit informed him. Now, in the quiet that descended, he observed his handiwork. What had once been a strong point now resembled an abattoir.
“Target neutralized,” Ethan called over the radio.
Alastair stomped down the corridor glancing at the blood-soaked CASPer of his first sergeant before using his own suit’s sensors to analyze the sealed door the strong point protected. Tim appeared at his shoulder.
“No visible door control panel,” noted Tim.
“Yeah, looks like it can only open from the inside.” Alastair looked around the door’s circumference until he spotted a surveillance camera. Squaring his suit off to it, he activated his external speaker. “This is Colonel Alastair Sinclair of the Human mercenary company Sinclair’s Scorpions. Open this door immediately and I promise, you will come to no harm. Refuse and your lives are forfeit.”
One, two, three, four…Alastair counted to ten in his head. When the door remained sealed he turned to Tim. “Open it. They’ve made their choice.”
Tim beckoned two troopers. The troopers leveled their high cyclic lasers at the exterior hinges of the armored door. The incredible heat produced from the makeshift cutters turned the armored metal to a stubborn, glowing red.
“This is going to take a few minutes,” said Tim.
“I know, I know,” replied Alastair, trying not to sound anxious. “And it’s time I don’t think we have.”
* * *
“Here they come,” said Okoro, as he lost the feed from the cameras he had been using to keep tabs on the mix of Besquith and Jivool heading down the stairwells.
“Cameras are down. I’m blind here.”
Caroline let out a string of swear words that would’ve made her drill sergeant proud, before regaining her composure. “OK, Troopers,” Caroline said over the platoon net. “We’ve enemy movement one level above you. Keep your eyes peeled and make every shot count. We need to buy the colonel as much time as we can.”
Moments later the sound of laser-rifle fire answered by the distinctive sound of CASPer gun pods reached her via her suit’s external pick-ups. In Caroline’s Tri-V, the ‘in contact’ icon blinked alongside each of her trooper’s names. Caroline repressed the urge to rush to their aid. Her place was here, coordinating the defense of this level.
Behind her Okoro’s CASPer stood as a statue. “What are you—” Caroline’s question went unfinished as a loud explosion rocked the control room. Trooper Espada’s icon went blood red.
“Enough of this standing-around shit,” said Caroline. “Okoro, keep me updated over the radio. I’m going to the fight.” And with that, Caroline Verley headed out through the hole where the control room door had once stood.
The cyber warfare specialist hardly noticed her leave, as he pushed through one computer generated fire-wall after another. For Okoro had identified a fatal stumbling block to the success of the Scorpions’ plan.
The HecSha cruisers in orbit.
* * *
After exhausting two complete CASPer arm-mounted lasers, the massive hinges holding the armored door to the shielded area finally dropped to the floor with a loud clang. Grasping the top of the door the two troopers who had cut away the hinges steadied themselves before using their combined mechanically-aided strength to pull the two-thousand-pound door.
With a “pop!” the door came free of its frame and the air pressure from the clean room beyond equalized with that in the corridor.
The troopers quickly ducked into cover as a volley of laser-rifle fire burst from beyond the room’s threshold.
“No firing,” called Alastair. “We don’t need to blow the crap out of a reactor full of fuel. Laser shields only.”
Gonzalez and Tim stepped forward, arms held at shoulder height, elbows bent, and activated their CASPers’ twin laser shields. From their forearms the shield sprouted and formed an impenetrable barrier which extended from floor to just above the CASPers’ head. Locked together Gonzalez and Tim stepped over the threshold as the rifle fire intensified. Using the two Scorpion officers as shields, the remainder of the armor-clad troopers entered the room as wicked looking four-foot-long blades sprang from suit arms ready to dispatch the defenders.
As the laser-fire splashed uselessly on his shield, Tim spotted his assailants. A couple of Besquith had tipped over some sturdy tables and were using them as an improvised barricade while they poured fire into the advancing Scorpions. An amber warning light began blinking in Tim’s display as his shield warned that it was beginning to overload. Tim broke from Gonzalez and ran toward the Besquith. In the short distance, Tim’s CASPer accelerated to fifteen miles per hour and he crashed into the tables, splintering them like match sticks. Tim’s momentum carried him through the tables, and he scooped both of the Besquith off their feet as he crashed into the wall behind them. Nine-hundred pounds of armor traveling at fifteen miles per hour squashed the Besquith against the wall like they had been hit by a giant fly swatter.
Turning to see what was happening in the rest of the room, Tim was greeted by a sight that reminded him of the scene that would have been all too familiar to the knights of medieval times. Soldiers in head to toe armor, swords in their hands dripping with the blood of their slain enemy. As Alastair had promised the rooms occupants, they could comply and open the door or suffer the consequences. Those consequences were stretched across the room’s floor in pools of their own blood.
“Corporal Vega. The room is secure. Bring in the package,” ordered Alastair.
Out in the corridor Vega turned and bent down to speak to Anna Wong softly through his external speaker rather than broadcast their conversation over an open radio net. “Doctor. This is not going to be pretty. Concentrate on what we are here to do. Don’t look around, and you will be fine.”
Anna took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders before giving Vega a curt nod. “Let’s get on with this.”
Holding her chin high, Anna followed Vega into the room resolutely refusing to acknowledge the bodies spread around the floor or the large streaks of blood and gore on one wall. “No. No. I’m not going to look.” Anna whispered to herself stepping over an unmoving Bakulu to a console which was beeping softly. The display was splattered in blood and Anna looked around for something to wipe it clear with. Not finding anything, she resorted to the sleeve of her own jacket. “That’s better,” she said as she concentrated on the information, occasionally tapping at the console’s keyboard to bring up new windows of informa
tion.
“How long, Anna?” asked Alastair.
“I don’t know, Colonel. There is a wealth of information here. Years of research. I could spend months going through this data trying to find exactly what we are looking for.”
“Time is not something we have a lot of, Anna,” said Alastair, failing to keep the exasperation from his voice. “I need to know where that working prototype is!”
Anna flicked through another couple of screens then let out a loud. “Aha!” Spinning on her heel Anna went to take a step only to find her way blocked by the limp form of a—Anna stared at it as she her brain tried to process what the bloodied heap may have been. A large metal leg and foot appeared in her vision and pushed the body out of her line of sight. “Thank you, Vega.” She said in the same matter of fact tone that one would use to acknowledge the removal of a piece of garbage.
Alastair and Tim watched on as Anna moved to the far wall which was segmented vertically into a dozen or so large units, moving along them until she came to the one she was looking for and halted. Tapping at the compact control panel on the face of the unit, Anna stood back as the entire segment slid smoothly out of the wall to reveal a dark, lozenge shaped capsule roughly six feet high and four feet around. The capsule’s exterior was perfectly smooth, but Alastair could make out what he assumed were panels which could be removed to gain access to the internal workings.
“Gentlemen. I present to you the galaxy’s smallest and most efficient reactor,” Anna said with a flourish. “If I’m reading the specs correctly, this little baby will change our complete understanding of energy production. Forget powering a Raknar in combat, this marvel of Dusman engineering could supply all the power a battleship might need.”
Tim could not help himself, he reached out a hand to touch the dark as night reactor, forgetting for a moment that he was wrapped in armor. From Anna’s perspective the sight of a giant metal fighting machine trying to softly stroke a piece of engineering which contained the equivalent of a small star within it laughable. And that was exactly what she did. Surrounded by fighting men, devastation, and the dead, Anna’s soft, lilting Human laugh reminded them all what they would lose if General Peepo was successful.
Gonzalez Rivero brought Alastair back to reality with a very uncomfortable bump. “Colonel. Check Third Platoon’s status.”
Alastair cursed himself for getting caught up in the moment and taking his eye off the ball. Flicking screens, the blood drained from his face as he double-checked what his suit’s computer told him. Of the nine troopers on the control room level, seven were a solid, dark red of combat ineffective. One, Caroline Verley’s, blinked amber while only one remained a steady green. Corporal Okoro.
“Times up, people!” shouted Alastair. “Tim, the reactor is your responsibility. Get it ready to move.”
Tim spun on his heel, taking the couple of steps it took to stand before the reactor. “Roger that, Colonel. First Sergeant, you plus one are with me. Hustle it up.”
“Jackson. On me,” called Croll, as he used his CASPer’s amplified muscles to literally rip the reactor from its mount, unconcerned if the thing blew up or not. Jackson arrived beside him and presented his back. Croll deftly secured the reactor to the cargo hooks on the rear of Jackson’s suit.
Tim raced his eye over the reactor, ensuring it was securely attached. “Good to go, Colonel.”
“Wait! Wait!” cried Anna, causing Alastair to turn in her direction. “We can’t leave.”
“Explain, Doctor,” demanded Alastair.
“If we leave this place intact, leave all this research behind, they will be able to build another reactor as soon as they replace the scientist and engineers.”
If Anna could have seen Alastair’s face behind his armored suit, she would not have recognized the man with the evil grin. “Who said anything about leaving this place standing? Gonzalez bring it all down.”
Vega ushered Anna from the room, falling into place behind the reactor-laden Jackson, his escort Croll, and Tim on point. It was over half a mile to the point where the Scorpions had originally breached the facility and another eight miles from there to the extraction point.
* * * * *
Chapter Seventeen
Plan B
“And I’m done.” Announced Engineer Larras as he wriggled his segmented body free of the ECM console he had crawled completely into for the past hour and a half. “Shall we try powering it up?” the Jeha asked jauntily, failing to notice or deciding not to notice, the tense atmosphere on the bridge of the Glambring.
Captain Kothoo flung his own Chief Engineer a questioning look, only for the man to shrug his shoulders. The elSha captain closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Permission to power up the detectors, and the detectors only.” Kothoo thought about crossing his fingers as he had once seen his Human compatriots doing but decided against something so un-captain like.
“Aye-aye, sir,” acknowledged the Tactical Officer. Being out of the captain’s line of sight, he did in fact cross his fingers as he activated the detectors. With a series of small beeps, the console came to life as the system rebooted itself.
“See, nothing to worry about,” said Larras cheerfully, seconds before the shrill buzzing of the threat receiver wiped the smile from his face.
“Report!” demanded Kothoo of his tactical officer.
“Entropy protect us,” the man said as Kothoo’s eyes locked on him like a laser beam. Clearing his throat loudly, he began his report. “Two bogeys. Computer is calling Bogey One a HecSha Ripper-class light cruiser. Bogey Two is a second cruiser. Same class.”
Entropy protect us, indeed, thought Kothoo, as the Tactical Officer continued his report. “Navigational radar emissions only. No indication of search or fire control radar. Confidence is high we remain undetected.”
Well, thank the high-being for small mercies, thought Kothoo. “They may not know we are here for the moment, but the second Colonel Sinclair’s dropships lift off, the cruisers are bound to see them.” Kothoo weighed his odds against not one, but two, cruisers and came up with the only sensible answer. A frigate such as the Glambring was out-gunned and out-matched, but his duty demanded he try.
“Tactical. Get me firing solutions on both cruisers but remain at EMCON One until I order otherwise.”
The officer for a moment looked like he was going to question Kothoo’s orders before nodding once and getting to work.
A tense silence descended on the bridge, broken only by hushed conversations. Kothoo rolled his shoulders in an attempt to relieve the pressure building there as his eyes followed the two HecSha cruisers on his tactical display, like a hawk watching for any sign they had detected the Glambring.
He had no way of knowing that the HecSha cruisers had already altered the balance of the battle on Kathal.
* * *
Squad Leader Wela was trying very hard to disguise his disappointment at being ordered to a hole in the ground miles from where the other Jivool of his platoon were engaging those who had dared assault General Peepo’s facility.
Taking a deep, warming breath of the nitrogen-rich atmosphere which reminded him so much of home, he stumbled over a rock and was forced to bend forward to keep his balance. It was a stumble that saved his life as a burst of automatic weapons’ fire speared through the space where his head had been a split second before. Allowing his stumble to turn into a dive for the hard ground, Wela brought up his laser rifle, searching for whoever had nearly ended his life.
Bright yellow muzzle flashes from directly in front of him identified the location of the shooter and Wela sent a burst of laser-fire in its direction. The ground around him was torn up as the shooter zeroed in on him.
At last, the other members of his squad began firing as they formed up in a rough skirmish line, seeking whatever cover was available. A second heavy weapon joined the first, and Wela realized that his entire squad was pinned down.
Well, we shall see about that, thought Wela, as he drag
ged his comms unit from his belt. “Dropship One Four, Dropship One Four. This is Squad Leader Wela. We are pinned down by at least two heavy weapons. Get off your lazy HecSha asses and give me some air support. Now!”
* * *
“Shit, Jonsey! You opened up too early.” scolded Kathy Appleberry.
“Yeah, I noticed that, thanks,” replied Fergus Daw as he sent another burst of MAC fire in the direction of the Jivool, who had appeared out of nowhere a scant one hundred yards from where the two troopers of Support Platoon had been idling time, awaiting the return of the assault group. The pilots of the dropships sitting at the bottom of the bowl had already decided that there was no longer any need for stealth and were bringing the ships’ engines on line in preparation for departure.
As the senior of the two troopers, Kathy put in the call to the colonel. “Contact! Contact! Extraction Point is taking fire from Jivool. Approximately squad strength.”
“Understood Extraction Point. We are six miles out. Tell the pilots to warm up the engines for a hot extraction.”
“Roger that, Colonel. The pilots are already on it.”
“Sinclair, clear.”
“The Jivool must have guessed our extraction point,” said Tim to Alastair on their private channel.
“And if they know about the extraction point, then they bloody well know our route to it.” Alastair finished Tim’s line of thinking for him as the older man ran the various scenarios through his head. “If they manage to bottle us up in the tunnels then eventually our CASPers will run out of power, and we will have to fight them on foot, and I don’t like those odds. Do you?”
“It would not be my favorite way to spend the day,” joked Tim weakly.
“OK, time for Plan B. Take your group plus Anna and Vega and double time it to the dropships. When you get there, bug out for the Glambring…”