“Your rules of engagement are to not fire unless fired upon.” There was silence for a few seconds during which Alexis noted the marine’s skiff departing. “I know, Lieutenant; I know. But we can’t roll into a stargate and start shooting the place up without justification. The Cartography Guild will have my ass for lunch if you do.”
“Understood, Captain.”
I hope so, she thought. “Ghost, any luck getting access?”
Alexis absorbed that as she watched the marine’s skiff slip over to the station and move to one of the docking ports where it paused. She knew the lieutenant would be carefully examining the situation prior to attempting to dock. He wouldn’t risk his six troopers unless he was sure of what they’d be facing, while knowing that his captain had his back with all of Pegasus’ massive firepower.
“No sign of forced entry,” Williams broadcast. “Docking system is responding. We’re going to attempt a manual docking, just in case some kind of fuckery is underway.”
“Roger that,” Alexis replied. “We’re monitoring.”
The skiff moved and gently nudged against the docking collar. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then a series of lights came on around the docking module—indication that the skiff was locked in place.
“We’re aboard. No opposition. Initiating live feed.”
Seven small windows appeared within the large central Tri-V—one from each of the six marine troopers and Lieutenant Williams himself. Alexis looked at the interior of the docking module, a rather typical Union design you’d find in any of a thousand star systems. The seven CASPer-suited troopers used puffs of gas on maneuvering packs to move down the module and into the station. Which was where they found the first body.
“Xander, take manual on the anti-missile lasers,” Alexis ordered.
“Yes, ma’am,” the TacCom said. The anti-missile laser clusters were only 10-megawatts each, yet extremely accurate. When you were floating next to the only way the majority of her fleet could leave the system, you didn’t want to be firing 100-megawatt tactical batteries which were not as precise. They weren’t very powerful by comparison to Pegasus’ main armament, yet they could still carve up the station like a blowtorch did a marshmallow.
One of the marines moved close to the body, which was nearly torn to pieces and slowly spinning in zero gravity. It was an elSha, or rather used to be one. Alexis guessed the reptilian alien had been torn apart by someone or something with great physical power.
Other marines were moving deeper into the station and immediately found a slaughterhouse. Alexis watched as Lieutenant Williams supervised his marines and investigated all the inhabited areas of the stargate control complex. They moved from the zero-gravity part of the complex onto the gravity deck, and found the rest of the station staff, including the gate master. It was a Sumatozou, and, like all the rest of its staff, quite dead.
Entropy, Alexis thought, they killed everyone!
“All of this is being recorded?” she asked Paka.
“Yes, Captain,” her XO confirmed. “From the moment we first tried contacting them.”
The rest of the investigation took less than an hour. William’s tech specialist located the main computer racks and found where they’d been modified, cutting the connection to the gate’s control systems. A very simple slate was in place, generic in every way, and an equally simple program was installed on it. A battery-powered, ultra-high frequency receiver was attached and integrated with the slate’s inputs.
Someone sent a preprogrammed signal that was picked up by the receiver, which in turn sent a command to the slate to initiate its simple program. The program activated the gate for exactly one minute, then closed it.
“No other sign of sabotage exists,” Lieutenant Williams reported from the station. “The only thing amiss was the gate master’s office, which was ransacked. The safe has been broken into and emptied as well.”
“Why not rob him too?” Paka asked.
Alexis nodded. “After you have everything documented, return to Pegasus, Lieutenant. Good job.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he said. “Looks like whatever happened here, we just missed it.”
“Once the skiff is back aboard, set a low-G course back to Frost,” Alexis ordered Paka, who nodded in acknowledgement. She floated back to her ready room and closed the door, then called back to the fleet. Captain Kaskata was in charge. “Update, Captain?”
“We have full control of the orbitals,” the Maki captain replied. “We have Omaha and Macaque’s orbits stabilized. They have extensive damage and casualties.” Kaskata relayed the losses, and Alexis sighed. Still more Hussars dead. “As we feared, Crocus was a total loss. Some crew did manage to get out in their escape craft, so there’s that.”
“How did Colonel Desmond fair on the station?” she asked.
“No problems. The colonel took it with seven wounded. He said there was a mixed Jivool and Lumar defensive team. When the Jivool commander was killed, the Lumar stopped fighting.”
“Sounds like Lumar,” Alexis agreed. “Hoot,” she sent on her pinplants, “please link in the ground company commanders.”
“Right away, Captain.”
Through her pinplants, names and units began to appear. Colonel Andrew Sivula, Muerte Negra, a heavy assault unit with one company of CASPers. Colonel Frank Hart, Titty Twisters, standard assault, one company of CASPers. Colonel Rob Koppenhoefer with Dood Wraak out of South Africa, a standard assault unit with one company of CASPers and one of infantry. Lastly, Colonel Doug Triplett, Copperheads, a unit specializing in garrison composed of one company of CASPers and one company of infantry. A considerable force, though a little light on CASPers.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “we have space superiority and are ready to begin the assault. I understand Colonel Sivula will be taking overall command and has drawn up the assault order of battle.”
“Thank you, Colonel Cromwell,” Sivula said, a dark-skinned man with rather wide eyes and a slightly crazed look. His record as a commander was impeccable. “We are sorry for your losses in taking the orbitals and thank you for keeping us safe.”
“It’s our job,” she said. “We’ve lost a fair number of drones so we are going to task several shuttles from Manticore to provide you air support during your landing. If you would take charge now, please begin your landing.”
She listened with half an ear as Sivula detailed how the forces under his command would proceed. She set her pinplants to record the details to go back over later. In the forefront of her mind was the slaughter on the stargate control complex. The Zuul fleet had slaughtered everyone there. It was difficult to believe the Zuul did it on their own initiative. Zuul were good fighters, not good improvisors. She was sure that was why Peepo sent them here, a target where little opposition was expected.
There’s no fucking way they would have killed a gate master without orders, she thought. That meant Peepo ordered them to, and that meant Peepo either never planned for the Cartography Guild to find out, figured she could blame it on someone else, or just decided it was a price worth paying. Entropy, she thought. None of those were good options.
As Pegasus made her way back to Frost, the merc cruisers began their assault.
* * * * *
Chapter Six
Command Center, Underdeep, Paradise
“Did the MinSha surrender?” Mayor McGee asked as Walker returned to the command center.
“Yes, ma’am, they did.” He chuckled. “Some of the MinSha sort of…know…me. When they saw I had come to take their surrender, their commander didn’t have any problem surrendering.” He chuckled again. “If this goes on much longer, though, you’re going to need a larger jail or some sort of containment facility. We’ve now captured enough to fill all the jail cells Colonel Ferguson had available.
”
“Do you think that’s really going to be an issue?”
Walker shook his head, sobering. “No, ma’am, I really don’t. They can’t have too many more units available. And if they did, it’s going to take a long time to dig out the last cave-in we dropped.”
“So, what do you think they’ll do? Give up and leave?”
“No, ma’am, the one thing I don’t think they’ll do is give up.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid they’ll probably take the next step.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes, ma’am. When this first began, I told you that if they couldn’t bring us in alive, they’d probably try to kill us. I tried to kill them slowly—to drag this out as long as I could—but I think they will soon move into the next phase of the operation.”
“So, what should we do?”
“We need to pull everyone as far back from the surface as possible. I have a feeling they will start lobbing bombs at us next. I don’t know whether they’ll be nukes or just kinetic weapons, but either way, if they can crack us open or nuke us down until we have nowhere else to go, they’re going to do so.”
“So, our only remaining defense is to cower behind tons of rock?” Ferguson asked.
“I wouldn’t say ‘cower’ so much as ‘ha ha, you can’t get us,’” Walker said, “but then again, I’ve always liked to taunt my enemies.” The smile was back, and he winked at the mayor.
The mayor smiled back. “So, what if—”
“Ma’am,” a technician interrupted. “We have reports of tremors!”
“The bombing has already begun!” Walker exclaimed. “We need to get everyone away from the surface, now!”
“No—it’s not from the surface,” the tech replied. “The tremors are coming from the passageway to Dixia Cheng.”
“Passageway to Dixia Cheng?” Walker asked. “You didn’t tell me there was a passageway to Dixia Cheng!”
“That’s because there isn’t one,” the mayor replied. “We started a tunnel to connect the cities—it was close to complete, but it’s not finished yet.”
“It sounds like someone on their side is working to complete it, ma’am,” the technician said. “I just had a report that there are vibrations, and some cracks are forming.”
Walker looked from the technician back to Ferguson. “Well, it looks like you just got your wish—the time for cowering is over. Have all your forces meet me there—the active defense of Underdeep is starting now!”
* * *
Near Sulphur Springs, Talus, Talus System
“Fighters!” Hargrave called.
“Cover!” Jim yelled and watched as his squad dove into ruined shops, houses, anything that would conceal their outlines. The alien sun—like Sol only brighter—burned high in the sky. A second later, his radar painted the screaming fighters coming in straight down from 20 kilometers above. They indiscriminately rained bombs of various types before climbing away. Sporadic and largely ineffective laser fire chased them back into the sky. They didn’t care about the city at all.
“That fucking air is kicking our asses!” Sergeant Jesus “Lamb” Ortega, his second squad sergeant, yelled. “Tucker took damage—he’s okay, but his suit is offline.”
Damn it, Jim thought, that’s the second in my platoon since landing, and one in Hargrave’s. “Roger that, Lamb. Get him somewhere safe while we try to get hold of this situation.” He switched channels. “Phaeton, this is Cartwright Actual.”
“Phaeton SitCon, go ahead Cartwright.”
“We can’t get clear of this air attack. Can you relay to Gitmo for their situation?”
“They’ve reported the same, Cartwright,” was the immediate reply.
That fucking figures, Jim thought. His company had HALD dropped southeast of the Capital of Johnstown, some 250 kilometers away. The town of Sulphur Springs was their target; intel suggested it would be the main location of the enemy air power. That had proven incorrect. Enemy air was based out of a mountain location called Redoubt, where the terrain was too difficult to use drones.
Gitmo’s Own had dropped into the crossroads of Satan’s Byway and the Road to the Crystals, which ran north of his position. In his six hours on the ground, every attempt he’d made to break out of the city and into the open had been met with massive bombing attacks. The attacks were always the same—the dive bombers that just hit the Cavaliers. Jim was sure that if they could move out, a spread out and fast-moving formation would neutralize the enemy attacks.
“How about some drones, Phaeton?” Jim requested, not for the first time. He knew they’d been using them to suppress the orbital platforms. The Hussars didn’t have enough marines, so they’d been forced to use drones.
“Colonel Cartwright, this is Phaeton Actual.”
Captain Jormungd, Jim thought. “Go ahead, Captain.”
“Colonel, I’m going to order a squadron of drones from Wyvern to your position. We’ve been trying to suppress ground missile fire from the vicinity of Leaning Peak. If you can neutralize that launch site once we break you loose, we can land more troops there and open a second theater.”
“Colonel Gries is chomping at the bit, isn’t he?” Jim asked.
“You could say that,” Jormungd said.
“Stand by one,” Jim said and switched to his command channel. “Hargrave, what do you think?”
“Well,” Hargrave said from his hiding place a few blocks away, “we can go with this push, use the window those drones can give us to link up with Gitmo, or we can drop in Bravo Company on the site.”
Jim accessed his maps, generated from planetary records—such as they were. Talus was not an open society, so the maps were less than reliable. The missile base, Redoubt, only appeared as a place on the map, and not a precise location. Leaning Peak was supposed to be a mining complex. It was clear most of their intel was for shit. If he dropped in Major Alvarado with Bravo Company, they’d have to do their own close target acquisition…as they were dropping right onto an active missile base.
Jim’s company dropped where it had because they could tell from orbit there weren’t any defenses. He should have realized that likely meant it would be defended by aircraft. If the enemy air was coming out of Leaning Peak, that meant there were air defenses there. It would need to be taken overland.
“I say we go with this drone intercept to get us free.”
“I think you’re right,” Hargrave agreed. The man had been Jim’s mentor from the first day he’d taken command of the Cavaliers, and Jim trusted him more than anyone else alive.
“Let’s link up in that hotel a block over. Bring Tucker in his disabled suit; we’ll see if we can get them going.”
“Your little buddy?” Hargrave asked.
“Yup,” Jim said. He switched back to fleet. “Captain, we’ll take that raid. Give us an hour to get set.”
“Roger that, Colonel. We need to rearm and refuel those drones anyway.”
Jim cut the channel and used his pinplants to set a timer, then called his top sergeant. “Buddha, let’s get them moving. Double up on the down suits.”
* * *
The hotel was holed from an earlier bomb, which partially collapsed an entire wing of the structure. The town once supported a population of a hundred thousand or more, and a lot of the civilians were still there, hiding in the outskirts. There were bodies everywhere in the hotel—Human bodies. Jim tried not to look too closely. They were here to help these people…yet the Humans were dying by the hundreds.
When he got to the hotel, Hargrave’s platoon was already there. They’d occupied a ballroom—the huge room was at least fifty meters across. Despite the size, it was crowded now with thirty CASPers. Hargrave already had his men out of their damaged suits. As soon as Jim was inside, he popped the cockpit. The air smelled like rotten eggs and smoke. That explains the name, he thought. Two of his privates were carrying Tucker, still in his suit.
Splunk clambered up and into the open cockpit, looki
ng around. Hargrave had his own cockpit open and waved to Jim.
“That suit,” Jim said and pointed with his CASPer’s arm.
“You got it Jim,
Lamb’s squad was the last to arrive, now crowding the space with forty CASPers. Jim scanned his external feeds. He’d launched a pair of small surveillance drones to hover over the hotel and watch for attack. They were well-hidden in the big building, but also concentrated and potentially vulnerable. The enemy air commander would be very curious as to where the Humans had suddenly disappeared to.
Jim carefully walked his suit over to Hargrave. Buddha and Lamb came closer as well.
“It’s a miracle we haven’t lost anyone,” Hargrave said. Buddha and Lamb both nodded.
“If we can’t take out that air, we’re going to have to have some of the other companies force a landing,” Jim said. Everyone’s faces looked somber. An opposed landing would cost lives. Maybe a lot of them. Only half the company’s transports were designed to carry dropships, so the ones which weren’t would be forced to land the entire unit in their transport. Those would be big, fat, slow-moving targets.
“What’s the plan?” Lamb asked.
Jim explained how the task force commander, Captain Jormungd, was being heavily opposed by ground fire, in particular from the base at Leaning Peak. He also told them that Hargrave and he had agreed that dropping in another company on that target would probably be a disaster.
“So Jormungd is going to send a wave of drones in”—Jim checked his timer—“twenty-one minutes. We’ll make a move toward the edge of town, draw another attack, and the drones will chew that up. Then we make a run for Gitmo’s position and hopefully assault Leaning Peak together.” Buddha, Lamb, and Hargrave nodded in understanding.
A Pale Dawn Page 10
