by M. D. Cooper
Chase drew a calming breath as he saw that the five indicators Potter had placed on his HUD were moving toward Kelly’s position at the rear exit.
Chase glanced at Jarl, his armor’s scan showing that the man would live, something that gave him mixed feelings.
The RR-4 leapt onto a stack of shuttle hulls and disappeared down from view. Chase turned to his left and ran past the four enemies Tex had taken out, noticing that though they were heavily armored, they hadn’t stood a chance against the massive mech’s weaponry.
A gap appeared to his right, and Chase ducked down into it, not bothering to activate his battle-damaged stealth as he peered out into the row the five enemies were moving down.
There were four heavily armored guards, three men and one woman, with Pierce herself in the center of the group. Her brows were lowered in fury as they marched toward the rear exit that Kelly was covering.
Chase drew his sidearm, set it to a projectile mode, and then shouldered his AC9CR. He flipped the rifle to beam mode before striding out into the open and yelling at the top of his lungs, “Freeze!”
The group skidded to a halt, then one of the guards reached out and grabbed Pierce, pulling her toward the edge of the row, where a large fuel tank leant against a stack of landing struts.
They’d only made it a meter when Tex dropped from above and landed behind the guard, the chaingun on his left arm spinning menacingly as he lifted it toward the man’s head.
“Don’t you know what ‘freeze’ means?” the RR-4 rumbled.
“Drop your weapons,” Chase ordered as he approached the group. “Nothing funny happens, and no one dies.”
None of the guards moved, but they didn’t drop their weapons. Pierce turned to glance at Tex before turning back toward Chase.
“You’re dead, buddy, you just don’t know it yet,” she said.
A split second later, an electron beam lanced down the row and hit one of the guards, tearing his wrist in half and sending his rifle falling to the deck.
“Fawk!” the man screamed. “I didn’t do anything.”
Chase shrugged. “Well, I only said that no one dies. Unless you keep your brain in that hand, you’re gonna live. The rest of you. Weapons down, and take a seat over there.” He gestured to the side of the row on their left.
The man whose hand had been shot off was first to move, earning him a hissed warning from Pierce.
“You do as he says, you’re gonna die,” she told him.
“They’re mechs,” the man shot back. “Can’t you see it? Who knows how many? We can’t fight mechs.”
Pierce barked a laugh. “You idiot. There aren’t any mechs like that. He looks too normal. It’s just armor.”
Chase lifted his left arm, which split apart to reveal a hidden electron beam. “No, Pierce. We’re mechs. Just not ones you’ve ever seen before. Fourth generation.”
Keli suddenly appeared next to one of the guards, her GNR rapping against his helmet. “And you don’t want to find out what else we can do.”
A minute later, the guards were lined up next to a row of solar panels, disarmed, their armor locked down, expressions of fear and disbelief mixed together on their faces.
Chase stood in front of Pierce, towering over the woman as she glared defiantly up at him.
“Impressive how you’ve cut off my Link,” Pierce said, not revealing an iota of fear. “But I got out a call for help. Everyone on this station either owes me, or I have something on them, which means they also owe me. You’re going to be facing down a Nietzschean platoon in just a few minutes.”
“So just like any other Tuesday,” Tex said with a laugh.
Chase sighed.
“OK, where were we?” Chase asked as he pulled off his helmet. “I guess for starters, I’m curious if you recognize me.”
“Should I?” Pierce asked, her eyes narrowing to slits.
“I must not have made an impression. Do you remember a mech named Rika? She was a good friend of mine.”
Pierce’s narrowed eyes snapped wide open, and she took a step back. “You are mechs.”
“Yeah,” Chase nodded. “We’re Rika’s advance team.”
“That’s what this is about? Revenge? Look….” She stopped and gave him a questioning look.
“Captain Chase.”
“OK, Captain Chase. You know that Rika’s days were numbered; someone was going to get their hands on her. In a way, I did her a favor. I got her off to people who would appreciate what she can do. From the sounds of it, it’s all worked out pretty well, too. Like I said, everyone on Dekar is in my pocket one way or another. Did you really come to Parsons to beat me to death for selling Rika, or do you need intel, instead?”
Chase felt his anger at Pierce begin to fade. As much as he hated the woman, there was a modicum of truth to her words. However, the sound of weapons fire coming from Kelly’s position brought his ire back to the forefront.
“I’m on it,” Keli announced as she loped down the row toward the rear exit.
Pierce wore a smug smile as she took a step closer to Chase. “You look worried. Things not going your way?”
“So far so good,” he replied as he pulled a pair of binders from a pouch on his back and nodded for Pierce to hold out her arms. “In about fifteen minutes, the station will be ours.”
As though to emphasize his point, the deck shuddered beneath their feet.
Pierce’s eyes grew wide. “You’re attacking the station?”
Chase held up two fingers, pinching them together. “Just a little bit, yeah. You were just a side op, but I wanted to nab you before you could escape the sinking ship.”
He grabbed her shoulder and pushed her in the direction of the rear exit.
“How are you taking the whole station?” the woman whispered. “There are two Nietzschean destroyers out there!”
Chase checked the command network, and saw that Vargo had the Asora in position to fire on the approaching Niets, while also ensuring no station patrol craft could launch an exterior assault on the Admin Deck.
“In a few minutes, there won’t be,” he replied.
* * * * *
Vargo Klen eased the Asora into the close-support position Chase had instructed him to take up. The ship was only four kilometers from Dekar Station. Too close for comfort, so far as he was concerned. Even with stasis shields, the proximity was making him itch.
“How’re we looking, Chief?” Vargo asked Ashley, his scan and weapons officer.
“L
ooks like the captain was right. None of the station’s defenses can hit us here.” One of the LHO’s four arms gestured idly to the holotank, where an image of the station rotated slowly. “There used to be a turret cluster right off our port side, but it looks like someone stole half of it…or maybe it got shot up, and someone stole a quarter of it. Either way, all the pew-pew parts are gone.”
“Pew-pew parts, eh?” Vargo asked with a laugh. “So, what do you think those two Niet destroyers are gonna do?”
“Well, Governor, I think they’re—”
“Chief Ashley. Enough with the governor stuff….”
The woman gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, I can’t help it. Think you’ll get to be governor of Parsons, too?”
“The Niets, Ash. Your assessment of the Niets.”
The LHO sighed and turned back to her console. “They’re moving into position to fire on us without hitting the station.”
“Surprised they care.”
“Could be that their favorite bar is on Dekar,” Warrant Officer Glen said as he ambled onto the bridge.
“How’re things below?” Vargo asked.
“Ship-shape, Lieutenant,” Glen replied. “Jakari and Lexi are onstation in case the rail loader has issues again, and I personally checked all the tubes. We’re locked and loaded.”
As the warrant officer spoke, a pair of corvettes came around the station’s central hub, angling toward the Admin Deck, which lay near the center of the station’s long spire.
Vargo pulled up the corvettes’ idents and hailed them.
The response from the corvettes was immediate.
“PMM? What the hell does that stand for?” Ashley asked.
Vargo only shrugged at the chief before replying to the enemy.
No response came from the enemy corvettes, and Ashley laughed. “Stumped ‘em, Lieutenant.”
“Tag the Fellhound. Let Mixon over there know we mean business.”
“Aye,” Chief Ashley said. “Splashing a beam across their bow.”
A proton beam lanced from the Asora to the corvette, punching through the smaller craft’s shields to boil away a section of the craft’s ablative plating before Ashley ceased fire.
The corvette rotated on its axis, turning the damaged plating away from the Asora, while the Fellhound and Foxhole both fired beams in return. The Asora’s stasis shields flared to life, easily stopping the attack. Then the Melrose and Scutum joined in, the two destroyers firing beams and kinetics.
“Barely a blip on the reactors,” Glen reported. “I like fighting small ships like this.”
“The Asora is the same tonnage as those Nietzschean destroyers,” Ashley said to the engineer. “We’re a ‘small’ ship, too.”
“Yeah, but we have more teeth than they do.”
“ ‘Protection’?” Glen asked, chuckling softly. “Technically, we have to take it first before we can protect it.”
“Semantics.” Vargo shrugged. “I’m trying not to sound all pretentious. I hate that shit.”
Ashley joined in with Glen’s laughter. “Sure thing, Governor.”
In response to Vargo’s warning, both of the corvettes slowed, but still didn’t move onto the vector he had sent. The two enemy destroyers held steady as well, though they ceased firing.
“I’ll give ‘em a minute,” Vargo said aloud.
“In a minute, the corvettes will be over station admin,” Ashley cautioned. “They can fry Chris’s team…or threaten to.”
Vargo pursed his lips. “OK, ready a salvo for the ‘vettes. I hope—”
The message had come from the PMM Melrose, and Vargo directed his reply to that ship.
The blood drained from Vargo’s face, and he rose to his feet, slack-jawed.
Sandra replied.
Vargo’s jaw tightened and he tried not to look at Glen and Ashley, keenly aware that they were staring up at him.
“Sandra?” Ashley mouthed the name, but Vargo only waved a hand, indicating for her to be silent.
The words contained more vitriol than he’d intended, and he immediately regretted his tone. Before he had a chance to add anything to soften it, though, Sandra’s response came back.
Vargo chewed on that for a moment, wondering if she was leading him on. He’d served with Sandra when she’d been a corporal in the GAF. They’d fought side-by-side on more than one occasion, and he owed her his life, as she did him.
But it’s been a long time. People change…especially when people like the Niets come along and subjugate you.
A laugh that was partially rueful, and a bit sorrowful, came back.
“She’s right about that,” Ashley said quietly. “Those ships have more patches on their hulls than hull. I bet they were derelicts from the battle here nine years ago.”
Vargo nodded absently in Ashley’s direction while thinking about his reply.
A sigh came over the Link from Sandra.
He wanted to tell her that the Marauders weren’t ‘just’ mercs—he didn’t feel like a merc. In all honesty, Rika’s battalion was more akin to freedom fighters.
Before he could reply, a message came from Lieutenant Chris.
Vargo drew in a slow breath and flipped on a full video feed, speaking aloud for the transmission to Sandra’s ship. “Sandra, this isn’t a debate. I’m operating under orders from my commander, and I’m not going to disobey just because you don’t think it’s a good idea. You have ten
seconds to stand down.”
“Five seconds,” Vargo responded, not allowing any emotion to creep onto his face—he hoped.
Vargo sent coordinates for the two Nietzschean destroyers. “I want to see your shields and weapons powered down. Then I want your crews off your ships. You have enough shuttles for that?”
“Five-person skeleton crews, then,” Vargo said. “Once you’re clear, we’ll send a shuttle to collect you and the other captains from their ships.”
Vargo didn’t know how to respond, and instead closed the channel, sagging back into his chair.
“I think she likes you,” Glen said, a grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Yeah,” Vargo pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “That sure felt like a lover’s spat. Drop probes so we can monitor their ships—wait, has Chris taken control of the station’s defensive systems?”
“He has,” Ashley reported. “The Marauders now control Dekar.”
Vargo glanced at the image of the station on the main holo, its seven rings slowly spinning around the central spire, which was anchored to a small asteroid.
“Great, our first bonafide shithole.”
REORIENT
STELLAR DATE: 02.05.8950 (Adjusted Years)
LOCATION: MSS Fury Lance, 15LY from Parsons System
REGION: Interstellar Dark Layer, Old Genevia, Nietzschean Empire
“Wait…” Rika held up her hand and locked eyes with Silva. “You never told me that you saw Amy again before jumping out with Carson’s fleet.”
Silva flushed and glanced around the Fury Lance’s forward officer’s mess. “And I’m not exactly supposed to, either. Tangel told me to keep it hush-hush.”
“From me?” Rika pressed.
“Well, it has to do with where Amy went.” Silva’s voice had dropped to a whisper.
