Jormungandr's Venom

by Kal Spriggs

  ***

  Bob Walker felt sweat bead his upper lip as he brought the shuttle in low over the rooftops of dark buildings. Captain Brauher had pushed his ship hard to make it here in time. Bob had spent pretty much the entirety of his authorized budget in bribing the Captain to give him his shuttle…. And to allow Bob to make a few “upgrades” along the way. He’d acquired two of the guided rockets from a stash on Harmony, not really expecting to use them, but it had been relatively easy to rig them up to the smuggler’s shuttle. The shuttle’s numerous “safety” features had been the main problem, it was a sporty little runabout, the kind of thing Bob suspected that Brauher had bought to impress potential clients. Bob had barely managed to avoid triggering about half the safety systems and keeping the shuttle from flying at all during the installation process. Still, he’d gotten it done.

  Of course, Bob had to buy that shuttle, paying the cost of a brand new one. Bob wagered that Captain Brauher was breaking orbit even as he flagrantly violated his assigned flight path and flew dangerously low over unlit industrial sprawl.

  His knuckles were white, clenched as he brought the small shuttle in fast, zeroing in on where “Mister Bhutto” and his Guard Fleet stooges had set down. If he could get there in time…

  ***

  Mel watched the unknown shuttle streaked across the screen, “What’s Traffic Control say?” She asked.

  “They’ve designated him a threat, they’re tracking his progress and they’ve also communicated with the ship the shuttle came from, commanded by a civilian, Captain Brauher.” Fenris growled. “Who is currently breaking orbit and saying he has no idea what’s going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if…”

  The small ship vanished into FTL warp even as Fenris spoke.

  “Great, so who is this joker?” Mel growled.

  “He’s approaching where Captain Ortega’s people set down,” Fenris warned. “It could be an unmanned drone.”

  “Armed?” Mel asked in surprise.

  “It wouldn’t be hard to do,” Fenris answered. “Do you want me to engage? My point defense weapons shouldn’t do too much damage to the area.”

  “Unless it’s carrying serious ordinance or you manage to hit its antimatter reactor,” Mel snapped. The shuttle was moving far too fast to get any kind of precise shot. Fenris didn’t answer that. If they got an uncontrolled matter-antimatter detonation, it could level that part of the city. “No, observe and forward your data to Vagyr Traffic Control, but do not engage.”

  She hoped she was making the right decision.

  ***

  Punatra scowled as the Guard Fleet security detachments tried to form up. He and his people had already disembarked, but the couple hundred personnel he’d ordered along as expendable ground forces were fumbling the job. Granted, they’d all received the parasites so they were little more than meat puppets, but they weren’t even following snapped orders very well. “Move them out as swiftly as you can,” he ordered to the soldat he’d put in charge of them. “Piecemeal is fine, just get them moving.” He turned and loped away, in the direction of this ‘meeting.’ He had no intention of playing fair. As he jogged away from the shuttles, he started to pick up the sound of shuttle engines.

  Peculiar, he thought, I wonder who else has come to play?

  ***

  Bob continued streaking in, just as his civilian shuttle’s mediocre sensors finally picked up the three shuttles parked in the abandoned loading docks south of the factory. They fed the data to his two guided rockets, which he set to target points between the three shuttles, where he saw ground forces milling. Ideally, “Mister Bhutto” was there in that mess somewhere.

  Then, before he could rethink his action, he toggled the command to the firing circuit and the two rocket engines ignited.

  ***

  “That shuttle’s firing!” Swaim called out excitedly on the net, “Two rockets, target is the Guard Fleet shuttles!”

  He hadn’t finished speaking when there was a near-distant detonation, followed by numerous flares of secondary explosions. It was probably Admiral Mizra making a play against the Guard, trying to take down the competition.

  Brian didn’t hesitate, “Engage.” A moment later he heard Swaim’s plasma rifle open up.

  ***

  Bob gave a whooping shout as the area around the shuttles erupted in light. That whoop changed to a shout of panic as the shuttle jerked from impacts. It started to yaw to the right and before he could correct, the airflow caught the nose and flipped the shuttle sideways. Before he knew what was happening, the shuttle tumbled and began to disintegrate.

  His last thought as the shuttle came apart around him was to hope that he’d managed to save Aldera.

  ***

  Agent Scadden blanched a bit as explosions ripped through where the renegade Guard Fleet shuttles had landed. I suppose I won’t be asking Captain Ortega those questions after all. “Status?” He asked.

  Commodore Webb glared balefully at him, “My people estimate that whoever that was just killed over two hundred and fifty Guard Fleet personnel.”

  “Renegade personnel,” Scadden clarified. Not that they’ll be capable of arguing the point.

  “Who have not been tried or convicted,” Commodore Webb snapped. “Those could have just been decent men, doing as they were told, not knowing anything about what was going on.”

  Possibly, but Captain Ortega’s file notes he tended to recruit former criminals by preference, Scadden thought, but he knew better than to say that. Commodore Webb knew there was something going on here and the last thing that Scadden wanted to do was provoke the officer. “I am sorry for the loss of life. My agents on the ground took down the attacking shuttle, as you saw.” He wasn’t certain who had took down the shuttle, but the weapons fire came from where the meeting was supposed to take place, so he felt safe in making that claim.

  “Do your… people,” Commodore Webb bit out, “know who launched that attack?”

  “Not yet,” Scadden answered. “Shall I ask them to investigate the shuttle?”

  The Admiral gave a grimace, “Can they do it without compromising what’s left of the situation? If not, I can order my people to move in.”

  Scadden considered it. He had the Fenris’s comm frequencies thanks to Jean Paul, he could contact the people on the ground. That may tip my hand too soon… all the same, I need to know who the players are… He weighed his options for a moment, “I’ll ask them to check out the crash site.”

  Hopefully they’d even listen. At least I don’t need to worry about what Captain Ortega’s people were going to do, now I may even be able to extract Admiral Rao out of this alive.

  ***

  “Attention crew of the Fenris,” a familiar voice spoke over Brian’s radio, “this is Agent Scadden. I’ve been observing your efforts here. I was more than willing to let you handle things, but it seems things aren’t going to plan.”

  Brian scowled, he really was getting tired of Guard Intelligence. Especially Agent Scadden. “Everything’s fine,” Brian snapped out, not even bothering to ask how the agent had accessed the encrypted frequency. “Bugger off.”

  “Not very kind of you,” Brian could hear the other man smiling. “But I thought you should know, Guard Fleet is prepping to land a battalion of troops to secure the site. Since you’re all upstanding mercenaries chartered under the Mercenary Guild, I’m sure you have nothing at all to hide.”

  Brian swore, glancing over at Marcus. Just from the way the man stood still, Brian knew well enough that this came back to him, somehow. Son of a bitch, I should have stuffed him out an airlock. “What do you want?” Brian demanded.

  “The shuttle that launched the attack, I need you to identify those responsible. The shuttle crashed only two hundred meters from your position, I’m sure you can—” His voice cut out with a squeal of static.

  Brian cut the volume down on his earbud and swore, “What the hell is that?”

  “Jamming,” Marcus answered, l
ooking at his radio with a worried expression. “All frequencies. Very powerful.”

  “Shit.” Brian looked around. Agent Scadden might not realize that there were only four of them on the ground. He looked at Admiral Rao, whose expression was tense. Guarding him as a prisoner, even a relatively trusted one, while checking out the shuttle, just wasn’t viable. Leaving one armed man with him was inviting failure. Brian almost decided to fall back to the shuttle, but he ruled that out. If the Guard Fleet Task Force in orbit was involved, they needed to toe the line. Otherwise, there were too many questions that could get asked.

  On impulse, Brian unclipped his side arm and tossed it to Admiral Rao. “Know how to use that?”

  The man caught the pistol reflexively, then looked down at it, holding it almost as if it were a snake. “I’ve qualified.”

  “Good,” Brian gave a nod. “Marcus, stay here with him. Priority is to prevent Admiral Mizra’s people from taking him. Understand?”

  Marcus’s expression was hard to read, but he gave Brian a nod. Under the circumstances, that was the best Brian could hope for, he supposed. Brian looked over at Yewell. “You and me, to the shuttle, recon it and back here, understand?”

  She flashed him a smile, “Of course.”

  Brian led the way out at a sprint, not pausing to see if she could keep up.

  ***

  Chapter 17

  Time: 0600 24 February 292 G.D.

  Location: Vagyr System, Harlequin Military Sector, Guard Space

  Punatra picked himself off the ground. More than half of his personal team were down, most of those from fatal injuries where the explosions and shrapnel had scythed through them. Four of them left, two of them injured. This kinds of casualties were more than a setback. Serious questions would be asked.

  “Status of the ground forces?” Puntra demanded over his radio. Yet the earbud was either shorted out or jammed, he couldn’t tell which. He waved a hand and one of his bodyguards ran back in the direction of the shuttles.

  This had all gone horribly wrong. The explosions were bound to draw attention, far more attention and far sooner than he wanted. Punatra would need a way off the planet. Even stealing one of the shuttles from the other groups here on the ground would be far more attention than he wanted. Those shuttles departures would be tracked, their destinations noted… and in all probability, the apru of the planet would have someone waiting.

  His best bet was to disappear, now. For him and his bodyguards to slip away before any authorities arrived. But that would leave him with nothing. Captain Ortega was almost certainly dead and he still didn’t have the weapon he’d come here for.

  Punatra’s throat constricted as he thought about what would happen to him if he went back home empty-handed, having lost so many resources with so little to show for it.

  His bodyguard rushed back, “There are twenty or thirty of the apru remaining. I’ve ordered them to form up.”

  Ten percent of his force. By themselves, there was no way they would be enough. But if he expended his bodyguards as well… Worth it, if I get the weapon.

  “Form them up for the attack,” Punatra snapped. “We will attack, kill all the apru, and take Rao, then extract by ground to the city.” He drew his teeth back in a rictus of a smile, “Move out.”

  ***

  Rawn Armstrong came to, not knowing where he was, his body aching. He forced his eyes to focus, even as his ears made out the clamor of numerous alarms and calls on his radio. Suit, he realized, space suit… boarding the ship. Someone was screaming on the radio, many someones, and the noise made head throb.

  His eyes flashed open and for a moment, he felt as if he were drifting. Had he not made contact with the hull? Was it too late? Had he already received a lethal dose of radiation?

  His gaze locked on his suit’s indicators and the flashing lights there. In an effort to thin the distractions he shut off his radio, there was too much for his brain to handle. One of his magnetic grapples had failed, the other showed amber, a partial connection. He slowly bent over, straining to see. Rawn swallowed as he looked down at his feet. The bulky zero-g suit had struck hard, the outer frame of his left mag-boot had crumpled in a way that he was surprised hadn’t shattered every bone in his foot. The right boot, though, had hit and the grapple had held… mostly. The grapple had ripped partially free, held onto his suit by the power feeds to the magnet. He was attached to the ship’s hull by those wires, only, dangling from the hull like some kind of decoration.

  His first thought was to use his suit’s thrusters, but a quick glance at his readouts showed that they were totally out of fuel. In fact, half his suit’s systems were either non-functional or only barely. His exosuit showed multiple ruptures, power shorts, and his exosuit’s oxygen tank was approaching the cut-off point. From the quantity it showed, either he’d lost a lot of time to unconsciousness or he had some serious leaks between the exosuit and his ship suit. He had his internal suit’s supply, but even having to switch over would be difficult inside the bulky exosuit. Rawn fought down an edge of panic as he realized just how precarious his situation was.

  Slowly, he reached up, toggling the grapples on the palms of his exosuit gloves. A few centimeters from the hull, they pulled him in until he was secure. At that point, he breathed out a gasp of relief. Now that he was somewhat secure, he toggled on his radio. “This is lead, status report?”

  He was shocked at how hoarse he sounded. Maybe he’d been one of the people screaming over the radio.

  “Sir,” his second in command answered, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Looks like about twenty of us made it.”

  “Twenty?” Rawn almost gagged. He had expected to lose a few. It was a risky maneuver under the most favorable conditions… but more than three quarters of his people had died?

  “Some of them may not have tried it,” his second answered. “But there’s a dozen or so who made hull contact outside the safety window. Most of tthem just bounced”

  Rawn didn’t need to ask what that meant. Those who’d hesitated or who’d been slow on the mark would have been in the unsafe radiation zone too long. They’d have been cooked alive before they made it inside the radiation screen. “How are our survivors?” Rawn asked, moving hand over hand in the direction of his team.

  “Farad, Bashir, Nowalski, and Peters all took lethal doses,” her voice was calm as she said that. “I dosed them with painkillers. There’s nothing we can do for them.” Rawn winced at that, but he respected her for doing what had to be done. “We’ve reallocated their gear. Brewer and Daley are injured, Brewer broke her arm and Daley has several fractures, but they’re semi-functional. We’ve located an airlock. I’m tracking five additional suits with power and life-signs that haven’t made contact, but we’re running low on time. I was about to begin the breach when you contacted me.”

  Rawn triangulated on the other exosuits, picking them out quickly. Three of them were totally unresponsive. They still had power, but they’d been damaged. Their transmitters showed their occupants were alive, but not much more than that, and all three were drifting in the microgravity around the hull. Two more were stuck to the hull, but the occupants either didn’t want to or couldn’t move. “Have Brewer and Daley recover the other five suits,” Rawn ordered, walking hand over hand towards their position. “They’ll be less useful for the operation and we may need weapons and equipment.”

  His second in command didn’t answer for a long moment. He wondered if she were considering Colonel Frost’s orders. Rawn put it at fifty-fifty that she had orders to kill him if he hesitated to follow through. Lieutenant Bell had served under Colonel Frost for at least two decades. “They’re not vital to the mission.”

  “No, but we’re down to half of our team. A ship like this could have a crew up over a thousand.” Rawn didn’t expect that many, granted. Most mercenaries ran light on ship’s crews to keep down expenses. Somewhere in the ballpark of two or three hundred wouldn’t surprise him, though. Ten to
one odds were bad enough. “Every resource we can get, Lieutenant Bell.”

  “Roger,” she answered. Rawn breathed a sigh of relief. He had a hundred meters to go and then he was going to have his team breach the ship. At that point, either they’d take the ship… or he’d die trying.

  ***

  Colonel Frost glowered in the direction of the fires and rumbles of secondary explosions. Clearly someone had tried to intervene. Whether it was the Guard, the mercenaries, or someone else, he was past the point of caring.

  He tossed his useless radio to the ground and looked at the tech who knelt next to the jamming equipment. Guard Free Now had scavenged it off a downed Guard Marine Corps shuttle on Thornhell. Boosted by the power from their two shuttles, it should shut down any communications in the area, out to a dozen or more kilometers.

  Of course, it also overpowered his radios, but he’d already briefed his people on that. “Keep the jamming up, but be ready to stow the equipment and board up. That will bring official attention soon,” Frost waved a hand at where the Guard Fleet shuttles had landed… and been blown to hell by someone else. If they’d done it in a less flamboyant fashion, I’d almost be grateful.

  He waved at his escort to follow and started moving forward. As it was, he wasn’t sure that he was going to get himself and his people out of this. His contacts in Vagyr could do a lot, but this had already escalated past something they could easily overlook. Worst came to worst, as long as he could get his hands on Admiral Rao, he’d get his information and transmit it to his ships, then at least this wouldn’t all be a waste.

  So long as Vagyr was in charge, he could make deals with the authorities, probably get himself and his key personnel out of holding and free to go. Most of his ground force were criminals, anyway, so they were easily replaceable.

  I need to get to Rao. He just hoped he had enough time.