“I was hoping you’d say that,” said Pete. “How should we do this, you think?”
Denny turned and looked at the holo, tapping his front teeth with his fingernail. Denny perused the holo for a few seconds, then pointed.
“See how that big explosion near the stern left a hole in almost the entire rear quarter of their ship? I think we move around and come in directly toward that hole. That should have taken out a lot of the sensors in that quarter. That might block their view of our approach and keep them from getting good defensive fire on us, even if they get their weapons back up. When we are a few hundred meters from them, we swing up to the top of the hull – see that big hatch right there? I think that’s a maintenance hatch. We blow the hatch cover and that should put us right over their engineering spaces. If we can take engineering, we shut their reactor down and we have the ship, I think.”
Pete shook his head. “Or we just stand off and blow them to hell,” he replied.
Denny nodded. “We could try that. But we’re almost out of missiles. It would take a long time with railgun slugs, and that gives them time to get their own weapons back up. And think of the benefit if we can take the ship. Take Bat officers back home with us. Maybe even take their computers, their AI core.”
Pete rubbed his chin with his good hand. “It’s a big risk.” He turned to Amy. “What do you think, Amy? You’re Intel. How valuable would a few Bat officers be, maybe a Bat cruiser AI core?”
“Me?” quavered Amy. “I’m…I’m just an Ensign, sir. I don’t know.”
“Make a guess,” said Pete. “You won’t be an Ensign forever. Pretend you’re a Commander. What would you do?”
Amy stood up straighter, lifting her chin. “I’d board them, sir.”
Pete grinned. “You may be a Commander sooner than you think, Amy.” He turned back to Denny. “Assemble the boarding party, let me know as soon as you’re ready. And send me somebody to run Comms and Helm.”
Denny gave a quick “Aye, sir” and stepped off to the rear hatch. Pete turned to Amy.
“Amy, you’re now my Tactical Officer. Use the Comm console, the Tac Console is toast.”
Amy looked at Pete, dumbfounded. “Me, sir? I’m Intel, sir.”
Pete pointed toward the Comm console, relatively intact. “You had a Tac course in OCS, and you stood Tac duty on your graduation cruise, didn’t you?”
Amy grudgingly agreed. “Yes, sir.”
“Then get over there and get it done, Ensign.”
Amy turned and sat at the console. With a last look at Pete, she focused on the interface and started pushing buttons.
***
Pete’s left arm hurt like hell, but he wasn’t about to take anything for it now. He couldn’t actually walk, due to the damage to his legs, but he sat in the XO’s chair and hoped nobody noticed. In front of him on the viewer, the Bat cruiser grew larger by the second, as they came in on a vector pointed directly at the big jagged hole in the rear quarter of the enemy ship. The replacement Helm Officer, Martina Flores, was doing an excellent job of guiding the Chicago to the point of worst damage. So far, only a couple of railguns had fired at them, and those were sporadic, so he knew the cruiser was badly damaged. The Chicago’s grav plates had deflected all the rounds up to this point; Pete prayed their luck would hold.
When they were 2 km away, he ordered his last two spare missiles fired directly into the gaping hole in the enemy ship, hoping to soften it up a bit more before they arrived. Timing it so that the move occurred right after the missiles impacted, Martina pulled the Chicago up and over the top of the cruiser, putting her directly on top of the other ship. Smoothly, she moved in until the sally port in the belly of the Chicago was directly over the maintenance hatch they had identified as their target.
“Clear to board,” yelled Denny into the comm. Pete heard a quick acknowledgement from the Marine platoon waiting at the sally port in their assault suits. On the front screen, he watched via the camera on the helmet of the Marine platoon leader, Lt. Rob Grant, as the eight-meter square sally port retracted almost instantly into the deck. One half-meter below the sally port was the enemy cruiser’s maintenance hatch, about four meters square.
Four Marines shuffled forward on magnetic boots to place a long fat thread of explosive around the enemy hatch plate. Quickly backing away from the hatch, one of them yelled “Fire in the Hole!” over the tacnet and twisted his remote detonator.
With a silent flash on the viewscreen, the explosive ripped a seam all the way around the hatch. Whatever was underneath the hatch wasn’t pressurized, as the hatch cover just tilted slightly and didn’t fly away as they half-expected.
The explosives team threw a large drone onto the separated hatch cover which moved it out of the way, sending it off into space. The platoon NCO, SSgt. Franks, leaned over and peered into the open hole. Evidently not seeing any immediate threat, he slid a long gravity sensor down into the hole, pushing it so it would enter the other ship.
“No grav,” he yelled over the tacnet. He motioned to his assistant, Sgt. Watkins, who pushed four zero-g drones down the hole. Franks waited for a count of five, then, with a gesture, he waved First Squad forward. First Squad NCO Corporal Enera stepped off and dropped into the center of the jagged hole, his suit jets puffing as they pushed him down. The rest of First Squad followed, disappearing into the enemy cruiser. When all of them had gone by him, SSgt. Franks followed, Lt. Grant and the rest of the platoon right on his heels.
***
SSgt. Franks peered down the passageway, trying to see through the smoke. Their entry into the enemy ship had put them in what appeared to be a storage area, packed with crates, boxes and larger containers. There was no gravity, either because of the damage to the ship or because the Bats had turned it off to impede their progress. The four drones had found nothing in the room and waited patiently for the Marines to catch up. Slipping between the containers, First Squad shuffled on their magnetic boots to the door, breached it and found nothing on the other side except a long passageway. The passageway was also without gravity or pressure.
“Anybody know the layout of a Bat cruiser?” asked SSgt. Franks.
Lt. Grant, standing directly behind Franks, laughed over the tacnet.
“We’re the first humans ever inside a Bat ship, Franks. We’ll make a map as we go.”
Franks grinned. “Right-o, sir,” he said. Franks gestured, and Sgt. Watkins sent the drones out into the passageway, two to the left and two to the right. In Franks’ heads-up display, he watched as the two drones on the left came to a blank wall and stopped.
The two on the right reached a cross-passage and went out into it, one turning left and one turning right.
Nothing showed in either passageway on Franks’ HUD. He turned to the fire team behind him and held up four fingers, then pointed out at the passageway. “Sweep to the right, set up a defensive position at the next cross-passage,” he said.
The four-man fire team behind him acknowledged and he stepped back out of their way. The fire team leader counted down and they were out, shuffling down the passageway as fast as they could go, two of them taking the “wall” and two the “floor”. Reaching the cross passage, they checked their HUD’s again to verify the passage was clear. Two of them shuffled across the passage to the opposite side, which gave them two pulse rifles pointing each way, covering both directions of the cross-passage.
“Clear!” yelled the fire team leader over the tacnet.
“Third Squad stay here and secure our back. First and Second Squads, with me,” cried Franks. He exited the room and went down the passageway to the end, closely followed by Cpl. Enera and the rest of First Squad. Lt. Grant stepped into the flow after the squad passed, bringing up the rear. It wasn’t his choice; operational SOP dictated he had to have at least one squad in front of him in any combat situation. He would have preferred to be in front; but the last Marine officer who had disobeyed this particular SOP had been busted down to desk clerk by
a pissed-off Teresa Tolleson. The lesson had been learned.
Sgt. Franks leaned out into the cross-passage, trying to decide which way to go. The decision was made for him; a sudden burst of fire came from the left, just missing his face as he jerked it back.
“Well, we know which side they are willing to defend, so that’s where we go, boys,” Franks called over the tacnet. “Corporal Enera, grenades and flashbangs, please.”
Cpl. Enera stepped around him and sent three ship grenades and three flashbangs down the passage as fast as he could throw them. As soon as the last one went off, and the shrapnel stopped bouncing around, Enera sent his first fire team out into the corridor, all of them firing steadily into the smoke, two high and two low. Reaching the end of the corridor, they called “Clear!” and settled into defensive positions at the next hatch, which was open.
Franks and the rest of First Squad followed close behind them, stepping over the riddled bodies of a half-dozen Bats lying in the passage. Franks would have liked a bit of time to study them, having never seen one before except in training holos; but this was not the time or place.
He had a quick impression of shredded spacesuits containing thin, brown, hairy bodies with ears on the top of their heads, exposed fangs jutting out of the mouth of a couple. They were very dead.
Then he was past them, staring through the open hatch at a ladder which led downward into the cruiser. He had Watkins send a drone forward into the hatch and look down the ladder. He saw nothing below except another deck. The telltale on the drone indicated no gravity in the deck below. Waving the squad forward, he stepped aside as they went through the hatch, working their way down the ladder to the next level.
***
Pete was having a hard time staying calm. He knew a commander had to be calm in such situations. But that was easier said than done. In front of him, on the main viewer, he had the feeds from the four drones, as well as helmet cams from Lt. Grant, SSgt. Franks, Sgt. Watkins and Cpl. Enera. He could hear every word over the tacnet. He had a good picture of what was happening. But he wasn’t there. It was damn hard to be this far away from the action, knowing his guys were in danger.
Onboard the Bat cruiser, SSgt. Franks had arrived at another intersection. To the left, the passageway ended in crumpled, burnt metal where the explosions on the ship had reached this far into the center. To the right, the passageway ran a short distance to a closed hatch. No enemy was in sight.
Pete watched as the squad went through a pressurized airlock and then secured the next lower level, which was a larger deck, having various pieces of equipment scattered throughout, securely bolted to the floor. Pete thought it was a generator room. They were now working in pressure but still had no gravity. Moving quickly through the room halfway to the other side, where another downward hatch stood open, the Marines paused.
“My gut tells me they’ll be waiting at the bottom of this ladder, Franks,” transmitted Lt. Grant. “Go easy.”
“Agreed,” said Franks. “Watkins, send all four drones down that ladder. I expect we’ll lose one or two as soon as you do.”
Sgt. Watkins acknowledged. All four of the zero-g drones moved forward to the end of the compartment and started down the ladder. Instantly a wall of fire came up from below, torching first one, then a second drone before Watkins could call them back. But it was enough to get a quick peek at what waited below. At least a platoon-size force of Bats was dug in on the next level down, 40 to 45 troops. A forest of pulse rifles poked up from their ranks. The drone sensor had showed gravity and a pressure gradient, so the Bats were in normal gravity. This put the Marines at a further disadvantage going down the ladder, since they would be going from zero-g at the top to full gravity at the bottom.
However, Franks had no intention of going down the ladder into the face of that kind of firepower. He called his special weapons team forward. They passed him and went down the passageway, pulling a large black three-channel hose that ran all the way back up to the initial entry room, where they had positioned a device that looked like a cross between a fire hydrant and a shipping barrel. Carefully, a Marine flipped a valve on the end of the hose, then dropped the end over the edge of the ladder and into the space below. Flicking a switch on a remote attached to his belt, a loud rushing sound, like water flowing, showed that something was being pumped into the space below. Suddenly the deck below burst into flames, as a hypergolic mixture of napalm, hydrazine and oxidizer spraying into the Bats below self-ignited. Screams and thuds showed that the Bats were panicking; within thirty seconds, there were no more sounds from below. The Special Weapons squad cleaned up their gear and retreated to the previous room. Watkins sent the drone back down the ladder. The drone showed 25 or so dead bodies, some smoldering and some still actively burning. A closed hatch showed at the back of the deck, and abandoned weapons littered the floor.
“Clear!” called Watkins, and First Squad charged the ladder, moving quickly down into the gravity gradient that existed on the floor below. Franks and Grant followed, moving down the ladder into the gravity, flicking off their magnetic boots once they got to the bottom.
Quickly, Franks directed Cpl. Enera to check the next hatch. Enera slid up to a small window in the hatch and used his hand mirror to peek through.
“Just another machine room, Sarge,” he called.
“First Squad, set up in a rear guard,” called out Franks. They were deep enough in the ship now that the enemy could come from any direction.
“Second Squad, take point, secure the next room,” he called over the tacnet. Second Squad, expecting this, moved quickly forward and through the hatch, followed by Watkins, Franks and Grant. Behind them, Enera and First Squad deployed into a protective rear-guard position.
At the other end of the room, there was another ladder leading downward.
“Here we go again,” muttered Franks. He waved Watkins forward with the drone control.
Watkins ran the first drone up to the top of the next ladder. On his HUD, he saw huge round reactors below, unmistakably fusion reactors. They had found the engine room. There was a quick burst of fire and the drone went down, but Franks and his team had seen what they needed to see. There were a dozen Bats hiding behind the reactors, and they were all armed. Putting napalm down into a fusion reactor room did not seem like a good idea to Franks or Grant. This would have to be done the hard way.
“Second Squad, we have to do this the old-fashioned way. There are fusion reactors below; I really don’t want to blow one of those up and test their containment. So no grenades. Use flashbangs, that should be fine. We’ll take one more peek; everybody study the HUD, pick your targets, then we flashbang and go. Get ready.”
Second Squad deployed in three groups around the ladder leading down, each group consisting of a fire team of four Marines. Watkins sent the drone back over the ladder and down a bit, drawing more fire, but getting a good picture and getting the drone out before it was destroyed.
“Pick your target. Ready in 5. 5-4-3-2-1 go!” yelled the Second Squad Leader, and twelve Marines leaned over the side, tossed flashbangs down at the waiting Bats, waited for them to cook off, then went down the ladder as fast as humanly possible. Pulse rifle fire echoed off the deck below, and several screams were heard. Then it fell silent, and Franks and Grant walked over to the ladder.
“Clear!” came from below on the tacnet, and Franks went down the ladder, closely followed by Lt. Grant. He found a floor littered with dead Bats. Two dead Marines also lay on the floor. Another three were wounded, lying or sitting against the reactor walls.
“Corpsman to the front!” Franks called over the tacnet. “Engineer to the front!” He heard Lt. Grant come up behind him, and he nodded at the officer, unsmiling. Grant went over and started assisting one of the wounded.
Franks stepped aside and pushed a senior looking Bat with his foot. The alien was thoroughly dead. He walked around the floor examining the other bodies. Toward the edge of the room, he found a survivor �
� a older Bat, bleeding from several wounds in his legs and arms, but still breathing, looking up at him with hate-filled eyes. Franks stared at him for a second, then called over the tacnet.
“Get me a corpsman over here for this Bat. Pronto, please.” In a few seconds, a young corpsman showed up, clutching his bag.
“See if you can stop the bleeding and get this guy stable,” Franks said, pointing.
The corpsman, kneeling beside the Bat, looked up at Franks, eyes wide in panic. “Sarge, I don’t know anything about Bats!”
“It’s blood, ain’t it? Make it stop. Put a bandage on it. Put his arm in a sling, there, I think it’s broken.”
The corpsman gulped, then bent to his task. Franks stood over him, his trusty old .45 in hand, just in case the Bat got cranky. Soon, an engineer showed up, reporting to Franks. Franks pointed to a large control panel nearby, which showed several rows of green and red lights, a lot of switches and several large levers.
“Turn off the reactors,” said Grant.
The engineer turned white. “Sarge, I don’t know anything about Bat reactors! I’m liable to blow up the whole ship!”
Franks pointed to the control panel, but he was watching the eyes of the Bat on the deck as he did so.
“Either you go turn something off, or I will. Which do you think has a better chance of success?”
The engineer shook his head but walked over to the panel. He studied it for a bit, looking at the incomprehensible symbols beside the switches and dials. Finally, he reached for a large lever, putting his hand on it. Franks watched the Bat’s eyes go wide and spoke quickly over the tacnet.
“Not that one, I think,” he said to the engineer.
With a gulp, the engineer removed his hand. Franks watched the Bat’s eyes staring back at him.
Over the tacnet, he heard a call from First Squad.
“We’ve got Bats coming in behind us, quite a few of them,” called Sgt. Butler.
“Can you hold them for ten minutes?” asked Franks.
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