Hell's Razer
Page 11
Plaser fire erupted from the sky, raining destruction on the central tower as the three Sleds began their assault. Before even the first piece of melted glass could ping off the landing deck, Blazer was on the move. He vaulted out and spun around, the guards in the tower either running from the windows or firing upward blindly. Blazer fired into the lower windows. The rest of the team burst out as well and followed suit. No place in the tower was safe as the Sleds continued their assault. Each one attacked in turn, not letting up as the Blade Force attacked from below.
The first dropship roared over the edge of the crater a moment later, racing towards them. Blazer held his ground as the dropship came to a hover over the landing deck. A handful of blasts pinged off its hull before three detonations rocked the side of the tower. Blazer looked over. Arion stood there, Big Red steaming in the humid air as the system cycled plasma from his backpack into the charging chamber. The volley proved to silence all fire from the tower on that side as the dropship settled to the deck.
Arion nodded and moved towards the landing site for the second dropship as the sound of compressing hydraulics rang out behind Blazer. He didn’t even have to look back and motioned towards the door. Prisoners flooded out as motors whined and the dropship lowered the central ramp to the deck to take on more rescued prisoners.
Blazer motioned the prisoners on and began to edge his way under the nose of the dropship. It wasn’t fear that drove him there. Experience and training had taught him to seek any cover that he could find. They were late in the mission, with too many lives at stake. He couldn’t afford to be taken down by a stray shot or skilled sniper.
Big Red rang out again before the second dropship set down. Arion signalled more prisoners out. This is almost going too well. He cursed himself for thinking that. No more fire came from the tower.
A scan revealed that the guards within weren’t dead. Instead they were taking cover towards the core of the building. That was good for them, but as the third dropship came in to land Gavit made a slow pass of the building to get a better scan. Blazer’s eyes went wide, he saw the mistake coming, but was too late to stop it.
A hail of plaser fire met the little Sled. To his credit, Gavit banked hard to avoid the onslaught. But there was nothing he could do to dodge all the rounds. His Sled all but disintegrated around him as it plummeted towards the deck. Aflame, Gavit managed to get the nose up before he pancaked into the surface. The impact threw him clear of the wreckage. Before Blazer could give the order, Chris was on the move.
* * *
You critch fragging idiot! Chris couldn’t be sure of who she was more mad at in that instant: Gavit for getting shot down, the Geffers for shooting him down, or herself for being so upset about it. Images of Kerjus dying in fire all those annura ago flooded her consciousness. She’d been unable to save him then, and despite everything, still blamed herself. She tried to shake the image away, missing a step as she ran. Kerjus had been more than a comrade in arms. She’d loved him. Gavit was just a constant source of annoyance outside of battle. Or so she’d thought.
She spotted Gavit in the wreckage: he wasn’t moving.
Her leap threatened to overshoot so she fired her suit’s jets to push her down. The landing was less than graceful. She slipped on the rough surface and skidded to a halt beside Gavit’s inert form, her armor sparking. He hadn’t worn his full ACHES, but his LAAFS, Light Armor Assault Flight Suit, common to dropship and bomber crews. Shock gel evaporated out of ports all across the suit as plaser fire pinged off the ground around them. Chris looked up; shooters on the roof.
Medical alarms blared in Chris’ ear. Gavit had stopped breathing. “No way you’re dying on me. Not now!” As close as she was, Chris activated Gavit’s suit’s medical suite. A shot of cardiac and neuro stimulators restarted his breathing as she worked his helmet off. Blood streamed out of a burst blood blister on the side of Gavit’s head.
Chris couldn’t help but feel exposed out in the open like this. She did her best to shield Gavit, but much of the firing had ceased. She laid a hand on his head. His face scrunched up in pain. “I didn’t give you permission to die.”
“Wasn’t aware I needed it,” he croaked out.
Chris turned towards him; her eyes wet with joy. “You Shreg! I thought you were dying!”
“No, I’m not dying here. Not like this,” he replied and tried to lift a hand.
“Can you move?”
“I won’t be dancing,” he replied and wincing in pain, rolled over. “I do not recommend doing that,” he continued and Chris helped him to his feet.
She wrapped an arm around him and helped him limp towards the dropship. The automated anti-personnel guns deployed from besides the doors and laid down cover fire. Chris looked over at Gavit for a just a moment. The pain was etched across his face but he didn’t gripe about it. Not once.
Chris almost felt relieved to find the rest of the team waiting for them at the rear entrance to the main bay of the lead dropship. She knew they would be, and that they’d come to their rescue if they fell. That they’d had to wait for them annoyed her though. Sporadic weapons fire pinged against the hull as she helped Gavit up the ramp. It was as ineffectual as any of Rudjick’s chat up lines. Chris helped Gavit to one of the palletized seats. Blazer and the others followed them up the closing ramp. As soon as Chris had strapped Gavit in, Blazer turned towards the flight deck above. “We’re all loaded here. Let’s go!”
“Drops Two and Three have recovered their Sleds. We lift as one,” the pilot replied. “Fighters are in escort position.”
Chris dropped into the seat beside Gavit as Blazer took his own. The central fuselage rose back up to the lift position, exposing the lift engines in the wings. Chris waited in hurried anticipation as the dropship shuddered into the air. She looked over at Gavit, his face still a mask of pain. The dropship lurched forward, Gavit wincing. The acceleration poured on.
She just stared at Gavit. He bit his lip to stay silent as the acceleration compensators kicked in. The pain had to be intense. Gavit breathed out a sigh of relief as the strain on their bodies alleviated. Chris found her hand on Gavit’s as her inner ear indicated that they’d pitched skywards. She pulled it back and removed her helmet.
She scratched at her eyes, wiping away a trail of tears.
“Are you all right?” Bichard asked from his seat on the opposite side of Gavit.
Gavit glanced over at Chris, concern in his eyes despite his pain. “Yeah right, Big Bug. If I died out there Chris would be the first one to toss a torch on my funeral pyre.”
That took Chris aback. Though rarely done anymore, funeral pyres had been common for warriors during the Vedek Wars millennia earlier. It could have been a mistake on his part. For most Anulians, the casting of the first flame was no ho
nor. Amongst the Chamalad however, that rite was reserved for those closest to the deceased - comrades, friends, or lovers. She hated pyres. She never wanted to see someone she was close to burning, alive or dead, ever again. “Burning's too good for you Gavit. Besides, I want to be there when Porc gloats over your crash.”
Gavit just groaned as the dropships raced away
Staff Lodging, C&C Internment Facility
Straining from the effort, Commander Decko shoved a piece of steelcrete out of his way. The odd silence that had enveloped the volcano proved deafening. The scene before him turned his stomach. The prison and garrison beyond remained aflame. In the sky, the drive glows of three dropships mocked him as they broke for orbit alongside their fighter escort.
His handcom beeped on the ground beside him. Panicked calls from all across the base filled the unit. He snatched it up before he pulled his legs free of the rubble. “Where’s LT Carrol? This is C&C Command.”
“Carrol’s dead sir,” someone reported.
Some good news at least. “I need a complete damage assessment. And get power restored ASAP. Have we gotten any word from the garrison?”
“None sir. They’re still dark.”
He unkeyed the link. “Damn.” He looked back at the dwindling lights of the dropships. He knew that a review board would come. This was a disaster beyond his ability to comprehend. With three dropships they could have cleaned out his prison and command might just make him disappear. “I don’t know who you are. But when I find out, you’ll be very sorry you messed with me. Very sorry indeed.”
UCSB Date: 1005.121
Flight Deck, Drop Ship CS-7-011, Vashko System
A change in course or destination was something that a team always had to be prepared for. Shortly after they’d returned to Confed space, the dropships had broken formation. Two headed straight back to Cathedral Seven while the Blade Force’s, and the jumpship with The Explosions still attached, changed course. At their next jump they met with a medical transport, onto which they offloaded their most injured repatriated POWs.
Blazer could guess their destination by the troops left onboard. He knew he wouldn’t like the issues the destination would cause the team. Many of those that remained were pilots that had flown off the Wolfsbane. Most of the rest were Marines that had been attached to that battlegroup during and following the Gorvian conflict. They were eager to return to their old ship, at least those that still wanted to continue the fight. Blazer hoped that their visit to the Wolfsbane would be little more than a stopover. He wanted nothing more than to return home to his family.
The others wouldn’t be so inclined to leave. A power-loader wouldn’t be able to pull Gavit and Zithe from the flight deck once they’d dropped into the system. Now that they were on approach, he felt surprised that they hadn’t gone EVA to get a better look at the super carrier and its impressive task force. “We’re on final, vectoring for the bomber deck,” Gavit announced over the PA.
That forced Blazer to look up in curiosity. “Why?” The Wolfsbane, like all but one of the Tacit class supercarriers, had six separate flight decks. Four fighter decks ran the length of the twin secondary hulls that gave the ship a planform that, from a distance, resembled a thick delta-winged interceptor. Two more resided in the primary hull, the largest of which ran the length of the ship - the bomber deck. The dropship hangar meanwhile protruded from the massive carrier’s belly, and was half that size. Massive transfer corridors linked the six flight decks, through which small- to medium-scale strike craft could be shifted about in case a flight deck was rendered inoperable. He wasn’t aware of any such arrangement for the carrier’s complement of larger craft, like bombers and dropships.
As if in answer, one of the prisoners they’d rescued sat down beside Blazer. The tattered remains of his flight suit still proudly displayed his unit insignia: a cartoony winged beast carrying a dozen torpedoes in its paws, alongside the Wolfsbane’s crest. With a knowing smile, he thumped his chest beside his scorched name badge, Tred ‘Wind Jammer’ Vetig. “That’ll be for us.” He looked back at some of the other escaped prisoners, a note of sadness in his eyes. “The rest of the Griffclaws are likely setting up to welcome what’s left of us back.”
Blazer looked towards the other prisoners. Several wore the same unit insignia though Tred had sat apart from them for most of the trip back. The others waited in clusters of three or four. “What happened to the rest of your crew?”
Tred closed his eyes. “I don’t know. We were on a deep recon hunt a few tridecs back and took a hit to our right weapons pod. I don’t remember popping the pod, but the next thing I knew I was getting grappled aboard a Geffer ship.”
Blazer nodded, thinking about how long the man had been in enemy hands. “How did you deal with being captured for so long?”
“It wasn’t easy, but I wasn’t there as long as some have been. I did what I could to maintain hope. And I gave the Geffers all the Sheol I could muster. Now I get to return the favor of their housing me. Think they’ll accept live torpedoes as payment?” he asked with a pained smile.
“I’ve never had them reject plaser or Sharks, don’t see why they would have an issue with larger currency.”
“I just wish we hadn’t lost all the recon data. Old eyewitness accounts are crap for intel analysis.”
“What did you see?” Chris asked, her gaze drifting towards the flight deck.
“Classified and probably worthless by now, but we’ll see.”
Blazer adjusted his harness as the dropship shifted around them, and caught Chris still looking up at the cockpit. “He’s fine. You did good getting him out of that wreck.”
Chris scoffed. “I know. I’m just hoping he and Zithe don’t fanboy so much that they make the pilot crash us into an unfamiliar deck.”
Blazer couldn’t bring himself to believe her. There was more to her look-up than annoyance at the pair’s behavior. There was genuine concern in those eyes. The slowing of the dropship brought Blazer’s attention back, an old habit to prepare for landing.
This was the time that Blazer hated most. With no visual input outside the dropship, he had no idea of their landing conditions. Landing in space could be a painfully slow process for passengers. The deceleration and touchdown could go unnoticed if one didn’t know what to feel and listen for. Blazer did.
He felt the subtle changes in the dropship’s engine vibrations as they fired the reverse thrusters. The landing gear cycled, vibrating the deck just so. Puffs of the thrusters and an odd shimmy in the hull as the shields dissipated. Then another sensation followed, a tingle to his skin and a slight buffeting as they passed through some form of electronic barrier. Sounds penetrated the skin from outside as they entered atmosphere. Atmosphere barriers on the big flight decks – I’d forgotten the Wolfsbane had those.
Atmosphere barriers were not widely used. The energy intensive force-fields were not the most efficient. As a result, despite the time it took to cycle them, most ships used airlocks even for larger craft. The dropship lurched forward a moment later. Blazer could still feel an acceleration on him before a thump reverberated through the dropship. It had set down.
The feeling of acceleration disappeared as the drive motors in the landing gear wheels rolled them across the deck. They were not under gravity however and Blazer began to float into his harness. “We are taxiing into position. Prepare to debark. Looks like there’s a welcoming party out there,” Gavit announced.
Blazer unhooked his harness and floated out of his seat. As the team leader he would have to report in and hand over the rescued crew. He felt the central fuselage raise just enough for the platform ramp to angle down and reveal the amber lit deck beyond. Bombers lined the opposite wall across the runway where they’d parked. A sizable group of Griffclaw insignia emblazoned bomber jacket-wearing crews awaited them.
The rescued bombers’ crews rushed out of their seats, launching themselves across the null gravity bay into the waiting arms of their comrade
s. The scene swelled Blazer’s hearts. He normally didn’t get to witness these kinds of happy reunions. His responsibility ended the moment he’d passed rescued prisoners off to medical facilities or transports home. To see them reunited with their comrades was a moment that made it all seem worthwhile and filled him with pride.
Despite that, he had work to do. He floated off out the back as the marines behind him began to file out. Blazer felt sure that a celebration of some sort awaited them, but imagined it would take place elsewhere on the massive ship. Regardless of celebrations, Blazer set off to find their commanders.
He drifted out above the bomber crews’ heads and adjusted his stance to throw himself towards the deck. The sight of the whole bay made his eyes go wide. It was different from anything he’d ever worked on. Most large Confederation starship hangars were just that, facilities to store and repair craft. Hangars had access to launch and landing areas, but didn’t perform that duty. Such wasn’t the case here.
A runway ran the length of the ship terminating at either end with dual sets of doors out into space. Bombers and transports sat parked all along that length on what appeared to be pivoting shelves that would rotate when the ship was under thrust. The design left him feeling worse than when he’d encounter a large panoramic window on a ship. A breach to one of those doors, or the armored hull around him, would vent this entire massive volume into space. Atmospheric shields might help to mitigate that, but better compartmentalization would all but eliminate such a threat.
Blazer tore his eyes away from the scene and continued his search for a shipboard authority. While most of the bomber squadron gathered outside of the dropship, a handful stood around a number of grills near the atmosphere recycler intakes. Were it not for those, the grills would be a choking mass of smoke.
Blazer shook his head. Bomber squadrons were weird in that way, flaunting standard shipboard regulations regarding open flames, especially in zero gravity. He finally spotted a pair of individuals heading his way who appeared to be his quarry.