* * *
Mako 13
Victoria Bravo
A stack of containers fell across the path of the Mako One Three cargo skiff. Carter kept the accelerator pinned to the floor and didn’t see the containers until the forward end of the skiff collided with them. The impact threw him out of the cockpit, into the forward container. He took the impact on his combat helmet, but still saw stars in the immediate aftershock.
“Fuck!”
He turned his head, slowly and painfully, to look at Mata and Alphabet. The young pararescueman lay on top of the young pilot. Stallings had flown forward and impacted the container. No one was moving.
Carter climbed across the skiff and rolled Stallings over. His friend’s face was pale, and her unblinking eyes stared across an incomprehensible distance. She was dead. He fought a sudden tightness in his chest and turned. Mata looked up at him, her eyes wide but blinking. She was alive.
“Alphabet?”
The young man didn’t respond. Carter knelt and shook his friend. He tried to feel for a pulse, but couldn’t get his fingers in the proper position.
Mata spoke in little more than a whisper. “He laid down on me to protect me.”
“Paul?” Carter said again, shaking harder. “Alphabet, you with me?”
He rolled the young man away from Mata’s injured chest and saw that his friend’s eyes were open and unblinking. A severe shrapnel wound on the right side of Alphabet’s neck told the story.
“He saved me,” Mata wheezed.
Carter’s vision swam with hot tears. As they streamed down his face, he crawled over to Mata and held her hand. He’d always known the day could come. Flying with Becky Stallings and Alphabet were the best times of his young life. They’d shared a simple creed—so others may live. They’d said it was something men and women with Alphabet’s job a hundred years earlier had said, or something like that. People who knew the cost of war was measured in Human lives. People who, when given the choice, would sacrifice themselves so others could live.
Carter looked down at the young pilot. He’d never seen her before, at least not up close. Her olive skin was pale, and she was hurt. She needed him, and he wasn’t going to let her down. “Let’s get you out of here.”
“Can you do it yourself?”
Before he could respond, he heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching CASPer. A Mk 7 appeared next to the skiff. The mecha placed its MAC into safe mode, pointing it at the sky, and holstered the hand cannons.
“Let’s get you guys outta here, huh?” a voice drawled over the CASPer’s external speakers. “There’s another wave of these fuckers landing. We gotta go. Like right now.”
Carter shook his head and smiled at her. He wiped his tears on his sleeve. There would be time for grief later. For the moment, there was another brother in arms ready to do whatever it took. He slipped his arms under her and prepared to lift her. His face next to hers, he said, “I’ve got you, Mata. I’ve got you.”
“Can you get her up?”
“Yeah.” Carter hefted Mata into his arms and turned toward the CASPer. The mecha’s arms were outstretched like a cradle, and he heard the pilot say, “I’ll carry you back to the main hanger.”
Holding Mata under her shoulders and knees, Carter climbed off the skiff, into the arms of the waiting CASPer.
“Might look funny, but it’ll do,” the pilot drawled.
Carter read the name stenciled on the mecha’s cockpit rail. Hogshead. Warthog Six. He recognized the name and snorted. “Becky always said you were an asshole.”
“Becky always said lovable asshole. Don’t think I ain’t going to remind you of this every time I see you.”
Carter clutched Mata to his chest. “If we don’t make it, you won’t get that chance.”
Hogshead laughed. “You ever hear of Fiddler’s Green? Son, I’m gonna razz your ass for eternity. Hang on tight.”
* * *
Deathangel 25
Victoria
<
Tara closed her eyes and forced herself not to cry, even in the closed space of her cockpit. “Track Colonel Ibson.”
<
Tara frowned. She glanced through her camera feeds as if she could feel Jackson Rains looking at her from the cockpit of Alpha One. The screen on her forward left instrument panel showed a small tactical layout. Six enemy dropships were descending to the north of the shattered command complex as if to touch down on the spaceport’s main runway. When they did, the enemy ships would have the CASPers and remaining armor forces pinned against the Cochkala beachhead.
“Time to landing?”
<
Shit.
“Tara?” Rains called. “The Cochkala skiffs are moving forward.”
She leaned around the container she’d been using for cover. Using the CASPer’s cameras, it took less than a heartbeat to confirm what the Peacemaker had seen. The enemy appeared to be moving toward the stalled CASPers. Avenger Six continued to move forward slowly, and the elements under the command of Warthog Six paused as he completed the fallen angel recovery.
Gutsy move, she thought with a grin. From what she could see, he’d already delivered the downed pilot to the main hangar. He’d be back with his unit in a moment, and the attack could continue. Except Avenger Six wasn’t pushing forward. Tara turned back to the north and scanned for the armor elements of Hammerhead Six. The first tank appeared, crossing an avenue of fire. Its main gun fired six quick rounds into the Cochkala position as it traversed the narrow kill zone. A few rounds and laser bolts hit the tank but did little damage to the angular hull and turret.
“Force Two Five, Hammerhead Six. Have you in sight.” MacFollett’s voice was firm and confident. He was in position and ready. With the CASPers in the middle, her and the armor on the right, and the MinSha on the left, they were well placed for a possible attack on the Cochkala position. However, a frontal attack against the Cochkala beachhead would be suicide.
“Force Two Five, this is Avenger Six. I have negative sight on the objective. Combat relays are down.”
Tara frowned. “Lucille, can you get them back?”
<
Tara leaned around the containers again and saw the Cochkala skiffs rolling forward, expanding their position. The two missile platforms and the surrounding infantry forces remained in place.
“We’ve got to cut off the Cochkala before they press forward and push the CASPers back into the waiting gun tubes of the enemy reinforcements.”
<
Tara blinked. “Is she in danger?”
<>
Including Vannix. Dammit.
“Get me the MinSha infantry commander.”
<
Really? Tara snorted and pressed the transmit button. “Mantis Six, this is Deathangel Two Five, over.”
The response was immediate. “Mantis Six, over.”
“Mantis Six, are you in attack position?”
“Affirmative, Deathangel Two Five. What are your intentions?” The MinSha’s voice was clipped and cold. “You are broadcasting on a command frequency.”
Tara stabbed the radio controls. “Governor Watson? Governor Watson, this is Tara Mason. Do you copy?”
<
“Then who’s in charge of this shit?”
<
Tara felt her stomach cave in on itself and her anger rising. Avenger Six was blind. The CASPers were about to be pinned down. Vannix was in danger from friendly as well as enemy forces, and no one on the battlefield had a clue how to defeat the incoming landers.
You have to.
Tara jammed her eyes shut and swung her head viciously from side to side. No. I’m not ready for this!
You don’t have a choice.
The voice was Kurrang’s, and it steeled her resolve.
“Tara?” Rains called. “You okay over there?”
Tara opened her eyes and slipped her hands back down into the CASPer’s arm holes. Her fingers grabbed the controls, and she reached for the recessed radio transmit button under her left pinky. As she thought about what to say, an old, familiar voice bubbled up in her memory.
The universe doesn’t care if you live or die, Mason. Only you can change that.
Shit.
Tara took a deep breath and pressed the transmit button. “All Victoria Forces elements, this is Force Two Five Actual, Commander Tara Mason. Thunder Six is down, and your governor is offline. I am taking command of the battle space at this time. I repeat, I am taking command of the battle space at this time. Break.”
She released the switch and glanced at the operational display. A plan quickly formed. “Hammerhead Six, continue your movement to my position. Avenger and Warthog elements standby to attack. Mantis Six, break contact and join up with Peacemaker Vannix downtown. Any remaining elements fall in on Avenger Six. We’re going to take these assholes down once and for all. Acknowledge, over.”
“Avenger Six, standing by. Over.”
“Hammerhead Six, at your position in fifteen seconds, over.”
“Mantis Six, moving out, over.”
“Warthog Six, moving to rejoin and standing by, Two Five Actual.”
Tara spun toward the oncoming friendly tanks. Behind them, descending out of the sun were six dropships. They were a mix of classes and sizes, which meant one thing. Mercs. Fighting mercenaries had certain advantages and disadvantages. The Victoria Forces were a somewhat regular force—meaning they possessed standard operating procedures, common techniques, and a solid chain of command. Other mercenary companies often had no plan except to shoot, move, and communicate. If she could take away their communications, she could isolate them and pick them off one at a time.
“Lucille? Can you tap into the terminal’s communications network? See what the mercenaries are using for voice and data comms?”
<
“I know, Lucille, but I’m executing the office I’ve been deputized to fill. Take over the network, identify their comms systems, and knock them out.”
<
Hammerhead Six and three other assault tanks arrived with half of their gun tubes pointed at the landing dropships. The six dropships came out of the clouds and spread out, set to land and deploy their contents in groups of three. She could see their plan in her head. The closest three ships would sweep the Cochkala flank clear, bringing Force Two Five and the tanks into the center of the fight. The other three dropships would join the attack and hit them hard. They wanted to pin the Victoria Forces down and wipe them out. There wasn’t going to be a surrender. There weren’t going to be terms. It was a death dance, pure and simple.
The multifunction display on her right changed from her ammunition storage status, a worrisome forty percent, to a zoomed-out command display. Tapping into the spaceport’s communications system allowed her a wide-angle look at the friendly and enemy forces. The red icons for the landing ships blinked as they continued their descent.
“Lucille? Altitude of the landers?”
<
Tara studied the display for a few seconds, and a plan formed. “Warthog Six, Deathangel Two Five, pull your CASPers back to the hangar and execute Mantis Six’s mission. You copy?”
Hogshead yelped. “Yes, ma’am. Warthog elements are on the move.”
The Cochkala couldn’t see them. If the CASPers were observed, the Cochkala might think they were withdrawing or trying to flank the three landers closest to the Victoria Forces compound to the north. Sending Hogshead on an end-around would give them time to flank the Cochkala while she worked on the other part of the plan.
“Avenger Six, move your elements to my position. Let them see you moving.”
Vuong’s voice was calm and steady. “Understand, Deathangel Two Five. Moving. Out.”
Tara spun and looked at Rains. “Jackson? You’re not going to like this.”
The Peacemaker laughed. “Try me, boss.”
“You and Avenger Six are going to act like you’re massing forces. I want the Cochkala concerned that you’re going to attack their western flank, so they pivot their defense. That will give Hogshead a chance to get on the opposite side and do just that. You with me?”
“Hold out and thin them out as much as possible,” Rains said. “We can move at will?”
“Whatever you want, just keep them focused on you.”
“What about you?” he asked. Tara had already turned toward the approaching tanks.
Some of the tanks had massive scars in their forward armor. She set her jaw. “We’re going to pick a fight with the landers. Try to knock them out before they get all the way down.”
Rains laughed in her ears. “Hell yes, Tara. Take it to them. I’ve got this side of the fight.”
A new voice cut in, “Deathangel Two Five, this is...um...I don’t have a call sign, but I’ve got three tanks and one beat up Mk 6 with a somewhat qualified operator at the main hangar complex.”
Tara blinked. “Lucille? Scan it.”
<
The male voice sounded young, scared, and determined. Tara depressed the transmit button. “Okay, last calling station you are designated Lightning Six. Standby. All other elements, you have your orders. Execute them now. I say again, execute your orders now. Break.” Tara quickly released and re-pressed the radio transmit button. “We don’t have a lot of time, folks, but here’s how we’re going to fight this fight.”
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-One
Lovell City
Victoria
Vannix found cover behind a large concrete platform housing a rectangular garden ten meters long and five meters wide. The raised structure was tall enough for her to kneel at one corner without worrying about being observed by the Cochkala forces massing down the block.
“You’re not going to like what I found,” Maarg called over her earpiece.
“About what?” Vannix leaned forward and saw the Cochkala infantry ringing a building, and a squad of five, including an officer, entering a street-level office.
“The Dream World Consortium. Their latest news features all discussed the implication of fraud during an operation on Araf involving a Human Peacemaker. Ring any bells?”
Gods.
“Peacemaker Francis,” Vannix replied. “They probably aren’t very happy about her.”
“Or her father,” Maarg added. “The official mission report states Intergalactic Haulers showed up and cleared the field. The Dream World Consortium had hired two separate mercenary companies to work with two colonies to try and eradicate the Altar colony. Then Peacemaker Francis stepped in. We have to assume the action here isn’t coincidental.”
Vannix blinked and shook her head. “Why?”
“Looks li
ke the Cochkala are raiding a Cartography Guild forward operation. During a typical deployment of a forward office, the mappers send out their own servers and equipment to establish operations. Until they are actively plugged into a planet’s GalNet hub, they are securely held and guarded. Once plugged in, the servers are protected by Galactic Union protocols because they establish guild-to-guild communications.”
“That’s what they’re here for.” Vannix sighed. “The whole thing at the spaceport is a feint.”
“Looks like it,” Maarg said. “A pretty expensive one. Who would send a bunch of mercenaries to do something like this when their real target is the—”
“Peepo.” Vannix frowned. “Their real target is Jessica’s father. They’re looking for clues, and if they get their paws on a Cartography Guild server, they have the known galaxy at their fingertips. Any tip they get gives them a huge advantage. Gods!”
Weapons fire rang out. Vannix peered around the planter and saw the Cochkala trading fire with something inside the building. “There are six additional landers hitting the spaceport now.”
“What’s in orbit?” Vannix asked. “Two or three large cruisers?”
Maarg hummed tonelessly for a moment. “Two. They’ll be in position to recover forces in thirty minutes or so.”
“Just enough time for them to grab a server, move to the airfield, and return to orbit.” Vannix wanted to spit. “Any update on reinforcements?”
“Hang on, I see some signatures behind me,” Maarg replied. “MinSha infantry. They’re broadcasting on Victoria Forces frequencies. Standby and here we—”
“Peacemaker Vannix, this is Mantis Six, do you read?”
Mantis Six? Have Humans not learned that some words have negative connotations, despite their attempts at humor? Vannix shook the thought away and replied. “Mantis Six, this is Peacemaker Vannix. What are your intentions?”
“We are under orders to support you,” the voice replied. “I am Lieutenant Whirr, and I have a total of ten soldiers. We are moving to your position from your five o’clock at two hundred meters.”
Deathangel Page 23
