Terra Prime (The Terran Legacy Book 2)

by Rob Dearsley

  “We are debating how best to deal with this attack. We remain unconvinced this wasn’t an SDF attack,” Jerome said.

  “Pointless conjecture,” the taller senator who’d confronted Niels before – Fitzpatrick, if Lloyd remembered right – said. “Unless there is some evidence we’ve not seen.”

  Jerome looked uncomfortable.

  “Now you mention it,” Niels said, looking directly at Jerome. “Captain Lloyd?”

  As Lloyd connected his flex to the chambers holo-projector, he glanced at Jerome. The senator’s face almost matched the grey of the bulkhead behind him. At his touch, the projection changed to the Montgomery’s scanner feeds. He showed them the fighter docking with the Hyperion.

  By the time he brought up the registration details for the Hyperion, Jerome had sat down and looked like he was about to throw up.

  Fitzpatrick looked between Jerome and the data. Lloyd guessed he was working out how he could benefit from this. Bloody cockroach. “Given the evidence, I move that Jerome be taken into custody and all evidence be turned over to the station security.”

  Guards moved toward him, pushing their way through the crowded benches.

  “I must protest. This evidence is clearly SDF fabrications. Lies to undermine this house and force our acquiescence!”

  “Horse-crap!” someone shouted from the back-benches. “We all know you’re as bent as the day is long.”

  Maybe not all politicians were that bad.

  “The SDF are trying to kick us out and take over,” another nasal voice chimed in.

  “Order. Order.” Shouted Jerome as the guards started ushering him through the crowded benches. He was heckled down from both sides as the arguments in the chamber overlapped into a roar of general disproval.

  “Quiet!” Niels barked, drill sergeant loud. Everyone stopped and looked at him. Even Jerome and the guards leading him out.

  Fitzpatrick was the first to recover. “Thank you, Admiral. As you can see, we have a lot to discuss. Your proposal being one of them. I’d like to meet with you in the private offices after this. Of course, you’re welcome to bring both Captain Lloyd and any SDF guards you wish.”

  Niels gave him a curt nod before turning to leave.

  “Admiral. It would also help the situation if you could stand down the marine contingent that is currently fortifying hanger Six-B,” said Fitzpatrick.

  Lloyd barely managed to stifle his laugh. That was marines for you.

  ◊◊

  Through the ship-link, Dannage could sense the moment the Terran weapons locked onto the Local Defence ships. The Terrans pivoted to bring their long-range bow cannons to bear. Power coursed into the weapons.

  The Local Defence ships were seconds from weapons range.

  He didn’t want to see them dead. They didn’t need to die. If the Terrans could just fire a warning shot, it might put the attackers off.

  But the Terrans hadn’t been given a warning shot. They’d been hunted, killed.

  Dannage pounded open the com channel to the Local Defence ships. “Listen to me, you damn muppet. You’re entering the Terran weapons range. Break off right now. They’ll fire!” Stars, please let this moron see sense before it’s too late.

  He flicked the com to another channel. “Rossini, this is about to turn into a shooting war. Get your ass out here. Right now!”

  Dannage felt the jarring retort as the Vanir fired. Glowing, incandescent shells streaked across space into the Local Defence formation.

  The Terrans were firing at extreme range. The Local Defence ships had time to dodge. Even so, one ship took a glancing blow.

  Moments later, the Local Defence ships were in weapons range, launching their own barrage of missiles.

  The Terran ships’ CQC guns ripped the missiles apart, none of them even getting close to the ancient warships.

  The Local Defence formation broke apart, each ship spinning off on its own attack vector. Dannage knew the tactic. It was a textbook fighter swarm, designed to overwhelm the threat-tracking of an enemy ship. But with barely a dozen of them against the insane levels of awareness of three Terran ships sharing scanner feeds, it was never going to work.

  The lead Local Defence ship met with a barrage of flack shells along its predicted path. It pulled up and away. A stream of fire from the main broadside guns ripped the small combat craft clean in half in a wash of frozen fuel and oxygen that shimmered in the light of the nearby star.

  “Arland? Arland, you there?” The Folly was nearly within engagement range.

  “Not a good time, sir.” She sounded winded. Damn it. He wished he knew what was going on in there.

  “Cap’n, more ships launching from the main habitat. And Niels is breaking cover.”

  On the HUD, callouts for three, larger Local Defence ships moved away from the habitat accelerating toward the battle.

  The other two Local Defence ships jockeyed around, avoiding the Vanir’s CQC guns and came in for another attack run, their own weapons lighting up. Tracers pinged off the Vanir’s hull, doing little damage.

  The new ships main rail-guns would be powerful enough to damage the Terran ships, and – according to the HUD – would be within weapons range in four minutes.

  Dannage pulled the Folly out of the path of an errant barrage of tracer fire. The other Terran ship, the Frigg, came around, hitting the Local Defence ships with her plasma cannons vaporising one in the beam of incandescent white. More ships were launching throughout the system.

  Now they knew the Terrans weren’t just going to cut and run like normal, the Local Defences were coming out in force.

  The Feynman and her attendant ships appeared around the sun, also on a predicted intercept with the Terrans.

  The Terrans were outnumbered and outgunned. They had to pull back. Run. The fear slammed into Dannage, leaving him light chested and breathless. He couldn’t do this. They should run. Get out. Just keep running. How were they supposed to fight against this? They could never win out.

  Damn it. The panic wasn’t his. Or wasn’t entirely his. Clenching his fists, Dannage focused on suppressing the ship-link. Arland, her lips soft on his. The scent of apples in her hair.

  He grabbed the flight controls and pulled the Folly around.

  “They’re prepping to jump again,” Hale said.

  Like he didn’t already know. He could already feel the building of power within the ships.

  Dannage swung the Folly in along the Terran ship’s hull, dangerously close. Getting between the Terran guns and the Local Defence ships.

  Rossini was broadcasting system-wide, demanding that the local forces pull back. But all they could see were their own, in trouble and fighting for their lives. It didn’t matter that they’d damn well started it.

  The Terran guns fell silent around the Folly, the Terran IFF registering him as friendly. The Local Defence, however, had no such qualms, sending tracer fire screaming past the Folly.

  “Are they bloody well aiming at us?” Luc asked.

  Dannage punched the com. “Arland you have to leave, right now.”

  ◊◊

  Arland thumbed the ship-to-shore channel open. “We’re working on it, sir.”

  Around her, the ship was on high alert. Despite the Turned hurrying around in groups, they were at the Navigation Core. The vaulted chamber contained a bank of consoles connected to data lines that looked far too like the nutrient tubes in Craven’s lab for Arland’s liking.

  Fyffe attached her data ripper to the console and tapped a sequence on the ripper’s controls.

  Arland readied her oversized weapon, aiming it at the doorway. With a blink, the data ripper came online in the bottom right of her vision. “The ship’s going to know we’re here now. So, expect company, sharpish.”

  The progress bar on Arland’s HUD slowly rose as the ripper pulled the navigation data from the system.

  The screaming roar of the Turned echoed down the hallway. Rutter shifted nervously next to her. Arland fle
xed her fingers and watched, waiting for that first rush of attack.

  A flash of sandstone textured hands clamped around Rutter, pulling him through the doorway. His gun let out a twang, like a bow-string and the turned screamed. Arland moved up to see him sprawled across the hall, claw marks gouged down the forearm of his armour. Another of the creatures rushed him.

  Arland snapped her weapon up and fired. The round took the turned high on the chest, ripping one of its upper arms off and spinning it around. Arland aimed and fired again. This time, the Turned’s head exploded into a wash of gore.

  More screams echoed down the hallway. Arland helped Rutter up, his gun booming twice more as they moved back toward the doorway. Arland fired again, dropping another of the Turned.

  Grayson leaned around the door frame, firing.

  On Arland’s HUD, the data transfer was at fifty percent.

  She fired twice more, dropping one Turned and catching the other a glancing blow that sent it skittering away.

  “Above!” Ellis snapped. Arland looked up to see one of the creatures crawling along the ceiling. She aimed and fired, but it was too late, the creature fell toward her. Arland dove aside as the creature crashed down.

  A second Turned threw itself from the ceiling onto Rutter’s back. Its claws dug into his helmet, splintering the visor – Lucky the air was breathable. He reached up and ripped the turned off his back. Arland’s shot followed it down the hallway.

  Grayson helped her up. Arland pulled a fresh clip from her ammo pouch, slamming the flechettes into the weapon before discarding the speed loader.

  Her HUD flashed. The download was complete. At least it was worth it.

  Grayson darted back into the navigation centre. “Right, time to bug out. Alpha flight, we’re coming in hot.”

  “No can do, sir,” the pilot replied. “The bay’s swarming with hostiles. I’m going to have to pull out. Meet at the secondary RV.”

  “What about Beta team?” Arland asked.

  “They’re bugging out now.”

  They formed up around Fyffe. Whatever happened she and the data ripper had to make it off.

  “Contact rear.”

  Arland’s HUD flicked up Ellis’s camera feed. A group of Turned darted from cover to cover, coming for them. She spun and fired, catching one of the creatures, sending it tumbling away.

  Dannage’s voice cracked through her helmet speakers. “Arland, one minute to jump. Get out of there.”

  “Working on it.” She looked over to Grayson.

  His eyes flicked back and forth checking the map their throw drones had built up. “Alpha flight, requesting pickup at the docking ring at port amidships.”

  They darted through the next intersection, heading forward and toward the port side. The waypoint marker on her helmet grew closer as the timer Dannage had sent scrolled down toward zero far too fast.

  A Turned lunged from the doorway, slamming into Arland, bringing both of them down in a tangle of limbs. She twisted her head as its claws flashed down, raking over her helmet. The scraping vibrated through her skull as its claws gouged into the armour. The gun was pinned to her front. Not that it would do her any good at this range. Letting go of the gun, she threw a punch into the side of the creature’s head, throwing everything she had into the blow and was rewarded with a crunching of bone, followed by a yowling from the creature.

  She could get used to the power assist armour.

  The Turned roared and dragged its claws along her arm, metal twisting and breaking under its strike. The creature’s claws slammed into her again. The armour held, but pain shot through her arm. The gun fell from her numbed hands.

  Grayson kicked the creature off her and fired twice into it, reducing it to a greasy smear on the floor.

  The timer on Arland’s HUD read thirty seconds. As she pulled herself up, the gravity went out, sending her tumbling toward the overhead.

  Damn it. It was the same trick the X-Ship had pulled.

  “Move it,” Grayson yelled, activating his mag boots and pulling Arland back onto the floor.

  They made for the docking port, their gaits ungainly and too damn slow.

  ◊◊

  Dannage watched two troop transports drop from the hull of the Terran ship. Thank the Stars, they were clear. One of the shuttles pulled around and away from the battle, its callout read ‘Beta Flight.’ The other, Alpha Flight, swung up and along the hull of the Terran ship. Dannage scribed into the SDF com frequency.

  Grayson’s voice filled the Folly’s small bridge. “Alpha flight, requesting pickup at the docking ring at port amidships.”

  Alpha Flight swung up between two weapons modules, within touching distance of the larger ships hull. It dove to the right, around a CQC module, spinning on its axis to present its rear hatch to the docking collar. Stars, that pilot was crazy good, or just crazy.

  A flack shell hit the troop transport full-on, shattering the cockpit and blowing through the craft. The aft section blew out in a flash of fire as stored fuel and oxygen combined.

  Crap. Dannage hit the com. “Grayson, Arland, your ride’s gone.”

  Grayson shouted over the background noise of gunfire and Turned screams, “Can you dock and get us out.”

  Dannage glanced at the timer on his display. “Ten seconds to jump.”

  ◊◊

  Grayson swore through the squad channel.

  Arland slammed another clip into her rifle and snapped off a pair of shots. “We need to get off.” She glanced at the airlock door behind her and then to Rutter’s damaged helmet.

  “Go.” Rutter met her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  She pulled him around to face her, grabbing for the can of breach foam on her belt. “Your suit’s not airtight.”

  “Five seconds!” Dannage yelled through her suit speakers.

  “No choice.” Rutter fired into the airlock.

  The explosive rounds ripped the airlock apart, shrapnel from the door blowing out into space. Arland had a momentary glimpse of the battle raging outside before the rush of decompression grabbed her.

  Sixteen

  (Hope’s Folly, Sillimanite System)

  The power from the Terran ships built up and up, a painful pressure across Dannage’s mind. He could barely make out the countdown through the haze of his vision, the display scrolling down to nothing.

  “Five seconds!” he yelled into the, still open, com-link with Arland.

  Stars, please let her get out. He’d never forgive himself if he lost her like this. No time to think like that. There was still hope.

  Power pulsed higher, the whispering of the Terran navigation system lost among the crashing of battle and pulse of engines building to their final release. Dannage swung the Folly around toward the pitted hull of the Vanir and focused his HUD enhancements on the airlock. Come on Arland.

  The crashing waves of engine power pushed Dannage’s thoughts aside, he could hardly feel the Folly’s controls slipping from his numbed hands. Finally release. Dannage collapsed into the controls, spent, as the Terran ships disappeared in a wash of blue.

  All around him, the Local Defence ships floundered, trying to reorganise after the battle’s abrupt end. While the Feynman and her battle-group were still some distance out.

  Where was Arland? Had she made it? No, she couldn’t still be on the Vanir. Or worse, dragged into jump space behind the ship. He didn’t even know if it were possible. But he could imagine her floating in the endless blue of Terran jump space.

  “Arland? Grayson? Answer me! Please.” His fingers danced over the controls, bringing up all the available HUD enhancements.

  Residual energy from the jump washed out the thermals and EMS, while chaff from the battle made the optical enhancements equally bloody useless. It was no good, he couldn’t see them. Why did Arland always have to throw herself into danger? He already knew the answer. For him. Always for him.

  The overhead speakers crackled. “We’re here, sir.”

 
Dannage’s heart skipped up into his throat. Oh, thank the Stars. She was alive. A distress beacon callout flashed up on the HUD, shortly followed by another, and another until all seven members of the squad beaconed their locations.

  “We’re coming to you.” He pulled the Folly into a shallow ark toward Arland and the others.

  “Cargo bay doors open,” Luc said from off to his right.

  Dannage swung the nose up, angling the cargo bay doors toward Arland and her companions. Now for the tricky part, using the camera feeds to line up the pickup. Small debris from the battle pinged off the hull, nothing big enough to worry about. It would be easy if the marines weren’t so spread out.

  A touch to the right.

  He should just about be able to fit them through the cargo doors without knocking anyone.

  Forward a bit. That was it. He brought the Folly slowly ‘down’ and around the SDF marines. Those last seconds, as they disappeared from the camera feeds, were the worst. Nothing but blind faith – literally.

  No thuds reverberated through the hull. Dannage let out a breath, relaxing his white-knuckled grip on the controls.

  “We’ve got ‘em. Closing her up,” Luc said from the console behind Dannage. The relief in his voice matched Dannage’s own.

  Dannage jumped from the chair, rushing for the cargo hold and Arland. The hold seemed to take forever to repressurise. He waited impatiently by the door watching the gauge increase.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the status indicator turned green and he slammed the door controls. Pushing through the still opening doorway, he jumped into the bay.

  Instead of flying off into freefall, Dannage dropped like a stone, the two-metre fall jarring his arms. Damn-it, the gravity was set to standard down. He was going to kill whoever kept doing this.

  He pulled himself up and toward the clustered marines, looking for Arland. He’d got her, right?

  “We need a medic.” Grayson removed one of the men’s helmets. Dannage barley recognised the bruised, swollen face of the man, his lips blue and chapped, and his only visible eye blown and bloodshot. Stars, he looked a mess.

  It was Dannage’s fault. They’d gone in there for him and when it came down to it, he’d failed them. Not scooped them up in time.