by Dean Henegar
“Captain Guzman, take over the space battle while I direct the boarding action,” Slater ordered. He was perfectly capable of handling both but needed to see how the captain conducted himself without his direct intervention.
“Very well, Commodore Slater. Do you wish to try and preserve any of the incoming ships?” the captain asked.
While Slater wanted all the salvage and biomass he could get, he also had limited options in dealing with the incoming space forces. Unless he undocked from the station—an action that would disrupt the flow of his forces onto the station—only the missile launchers, the aft main battery, and four of the point-defense weapons could come to bear on the approaching ships. The raiders were likely stuffed with boarders while the mothership could contain innocent prisoners.
“Weapons free on the raiders. Take out the drives on the mothership, if possible. We don’t want to destroy it if it’s holding other prisoners,” Slater ordered.
“Aye, aye, Commodore. Weapons, target one missile each at the raiders. Battery C is to target and disable the mothership,” Guzman ordered. The crew went about their tasks as Slater watched his forces progress from one end of the cylindrical station to the other, killing any opposition in their way. The latest upgrade to the reaper drones had proven a good one. Not only were they now larger and more heavily armored, but he had also issued them each a large shield to protect from all types of damage. The four spider-like legs were now easily detachable and could be quickly switched out with a spare that each drone now carried. The legs were a weak point, and Slater was still trying to come up with a better way to move the drones or a way to improve on the spider design.
The initial strike by the blast rats—which he had decided to name the rats with grenades implanted in them—had decimated the first set of gnomish defensive positions. Gnomish weapons were proving rather ineffective against the reapers; he had come up with the rock to their scissors. His squad of orc MOBS followed along in the wake of the drones, taking out any bypassed forces and searching the smaller compartments along the main corridors for holdouts.
As far as the overall layout of the gnomish station went, it held three main passageways that ran from one end of the cylinder to the other. Off each main passage were various workshops, storage areas, and living quarters. The clan didn’t keep a very clean house, and many of the living areas, including the dining halls, were filthy. His observations were interrupted when he felt a problem with the missile-launcher system.
“Sir, negative launch on all tubes. Getting proximity hazard indicators,” the weapons officer advised. Captain Guzman had his crew run a diagnostic, but since the system was integrated into Slater himself, he found the problem first. The initial designs for his missiles had been based on those used by human space forces. He had improved on the design where he could, but there was no need to tweak the software package to a great extent. Embedded in the code was a failsafe to prevent the weapons from launching if they were too close to another object and the ensuing blast might damage the launching vessel as well as the target. The angle at which they were docked to the station nearly, but not quite, got in front of the launch tubes. Slater confirmed the missiles wouldn’t hit anything and overrode the failsafe, allowing all four tubes to fire.
“I’ve fixed the error code. Fire at will, Captain Guzman,” Slater announced.
“I’m getting green lights on the missiles, sir. Firing. Those raiders are burning hard toward us. I don’t think the reload cycle will complete in time for a second volley,” the weapons officer advised.
“Looks like these raiders are an upgrade from the others we faced. A bit larger and with better drives. Let’s hope their weapons aren’t upgraded as well,” Guzman added.
Slater watched the captain review the scan report on the incoming vessels, then pulled up the report and could see that these ships were improved somewhat over the first he had faced. Perhaps the other mothership was the black sheep of the clan and had received the worst of the equipment.
“We’re getting good hits on the mothership. Its shields are taking a pummeling,” weapons added. Indeed, the twin five-inch railgun mount packed a punch that the gnomish shields weren’t up to taking. A second and third volley dropped the shields, and further rounds dug into the ship’s drive units. At the mothership’s approach angle, only a small section of the drive system was visible, but the gunners—assisted by Slater’s calculations—were on target.
The missile volley closed in on the raiders, who responded with point-defense fire from their dual-purpose lasers. Slater had upgraded the missile countermeasures, but they weren’t foolproof. One and then another of the missiles were taken down as the final two remorselessly homed in on their targets. A pair of raiders were blotted from the stars as the missiles did their work. Designed to take on capital ships, a missile was fatal if it hit a small raider vessel. Guzman had his crew switch the main battery from the mothership to the surviving raiders, but it was too late for them to score any hits.
The point-defense weapons went into direct-fire mode, peppering the approaching raiders with kinetic rounds or, in the case of one of the weapons, laser fire. Shields flared and died on the raider vessels as the small but numerous hits began to take their toll. The first raider crept toward the free docking hatch on the Franklin, bearing the brunt of the point-defense fire. By the time the ship’s hatch snapped into position, the vessel’s hull was venting atmosphere from several minor breaches. Using the first ship for cover, the second raider positioned itself behind its heavily damaged comrade. Slater figured the gnomes had worked out some way for it to dock with its sister ship and add its troops to the fight.
“Prepare to repel boarders. Defenders to the range,” Slater ordered.
Lieutenant Camden already had his soldiers ready for a fight if Slater’s internal defenses didn’t hold. With the help of improved bunkers, a pair of SAC marines, and several of the crew now trained to fight, Slater was confident the humans would win any battle that made it as far as the range. The only problem was that nearly all his MOBS were on board the mothership, leaving little to guard the Franklin. Rather than call off his attacking force and give the gnomes time to strengthen their crumbling defense, Slater gambled that the few MOBS he had kept on board, as well as his newly enhanced automated defenses, would be up to the task.
While he armed the defenses, he checked in on his boarding party. The reapers had penetrated a third of the way through the station, crushing the disorganized defenders. Over a hundred more gnomish warriors had been killed in the fight with only three casualties among his drones, not to mention the rats that died to deliver the initial blow. His MOBS had things well in hand, and after issuing a few commands to properly position the rats holding signal-range extenders, he left them to do their work.
The entry hatch to the Franklin opened, which caused the two new systems covering the boarding area to activate. Taking their time and being cautious, the first gnomes emerged. The group was armed with the same poorly designed laser rifles the others had used, but they at least seemed to be wearing light armor. He was about to put their armor to the test.
A panel in the ceiling of the boarding area slid back, revealing a turret-mounted rifle that began to take shots at the first boarders. Their armor proved no match for the explosive rifle rounds Slater had copied from the human soldiers, and the first three enemies that entered were mowed down. The other gnomes took cover behind the hatch coaming, returning poorly aimed fire at the defensive turret.
“Make a hole, idiots. Let the shield-bearers through!” a gnome hidden inside the raider barked.
Glad I stole that idea from them, Slater thought as a pair of burly—for gnomes—boarders approached, carrying shields nearly as big as the ones his newly enhanced reapers wielded.
“Mothership is dead in the water. Her trajectory will miss us and the station,” Guzman advised, interrupting Slater’s view of the boarding action. Looking at the scanners, he saw that the mothership woul
d continue its course and speed deeper into the system. Unfortunately, it could communicate with the other gnomish stations, but so far, there hadn’t been any sort of hostile response from the other gnomish clans. If the other clans could see what was going on, it would most likely look like he was another mothership involved in an internal conflict, not a human vessel carrying a derelict core. Slater had a feeling that the mothership’s cries for help would go unanswered.
Back at the entryway, the gnomes had taken out the first defensive turret. The two shield-bearers had joined the other three dead gnomes as the armor-piercing rounds from Slater’s defenses punched through the shields after only a few hits. Those few hits had given the other gnomes enough time to blast his turret to pieces. No matter. He still had another surprise for them before they could move any farther into his vessel.
With the entry appearing clear, gnomes began to board in earnest until there were over a dozen stuffed into the boarding area, a few peeking around the corner to see what awaited them in the main corridor. Slater released the clamps holding the destroyed turret. The gnomes flinched and spun about as the weapon clanged to the deck, looks of fear replaced with relief when they saw that it was just the damaged weapon dropping down. Out of the hole in the ceiling left by the turret, a brightly polished ball dropped.
The laser globe stopped at chest height and activated. Laser blasts peppered the room and the gnomes inside it as Slater unleashed the weapon design he had taken from the elves. Gnomish armor proved more effective against laser fire than it had against rifle rounds, saving several of the gnomes from death. Still, the weapon burned through or found weak spots on six of the gnomes, taking them out of the fight.
“Hurry up, you idiots. Find Fitzfazzle and kill him! Keeblhar needs our help on the station,” the gnome still inside the protection of his ship shouted as another wave of troops boarded the Franklin. The boarders turned the corner into the main passageway. There, they found a defensive point manned by the bridge crew of gnomes that Slater had printed up in his bid to trick the station into letting him board without a fight. He was still kicking himself for having the stupid gnome captain wear that ridiculous hat. How could he have known it was going to be seen as some kind of challenge to the gnomish clan leader?
Still, since it had got them riled up, he went ahead and equipped all six of his gnomish bridge crew with them. Of course, they also had body armor, rifles, grenades, and a defensive wall to take cover behind. The position was also covered by another rifle turret above the defensive wall. He watched as the boarding party charged in, lasers blazing as Slater’s defenders opened up. With his defenders’ superior position and the boarders’ lack of cover, Slater’s troops cut down the first wave with ease, only losing one gnome to an unlucky hit to the face. More and more boarders continued to flood in, including another pair with shields.
“Team leader Flobble, use the shields for cover and toss a few grenades behind their little wall to clear the traitors out. That all of them would wear the red hat of command is an affront to our entire race,” the gnome that had been shouting earlier said as he entered the Franklin.
The chosen team leader nodded and began to organize his assault. Two shield-bearers led the way with a dozen gnomes following behind. The ones directly behind the shields were holding grenades, ready to toss.
The swarm of gnomes rounded the corner and began their assault. Slater’s MOBS began to take them under fire, but the shields did their job for long enough to get the grenadiers into range. As they pulled the pins and began to throw, Slater unleashed Magic Blast into their midst. Attackers flew away from the blast, which was aimed at the center of the passageway. The blast did some damage and stunned the attackers, allowing his gnomes to throw their grenades first. A series of sharp explosions showered the corridor with shrapnel, taking out all but a few of the attackers. The remaining attackers, no longer covered by the shield-bearers, fell as easily as the first wave had.
Slater could feel the energy leave him as he used his magic ability, the mana slowly trickling back as his power regenerated. He used the same trick for the next two attacks that followed. Then the boarders spread their troops a bit farther apart, negating some of the effects. With each failed assault, the leader of the gnomes became more and more enraged. Over fifty attackers had been killed, and Slater had only lost the turret and a second of his gnome MOBS in the assaults.
“Fitzfazzle, I see you over there behind the wall, you worthless orc dropping! Do you think your little defenses will save you? Ha, I’ve got a few tricks of my own, as you’re about to find out. I was hoping this would be a quick and painless assault . . . Well, painless for me, that is. All right, boys, bring out the death contraption thingy. Let’s end this fight. You’re dead meat now, Fitzfazzle, or my name isn’t A,” the gnome shouted.
“His name is A?” Private Harris laughed as the defenders on the gun range tuned into the video feed of the fight; Slater had shared it to help them prepare. “What kind of name is that? I thought they all had stupid gnomish names like that Flobble dork he was shouting at earlier. What do you think a death contraption thingy is, Commodore Slater?”
“I have no idea, Private Harris, but the longer they delay here, the more time our MOBS have to take the station. Let them yell for an hour if they want, though I admit I’m curious what a death contraption thingy is,” Slater replied. He enjoyed this part of his new existence: the ability to converse with anyone, anywhere, and at any time on his ship.
The boarders in the entryway huddled down into defensive positions, bringing more shields and a few defensive barricades over from their vessels in case Slater’s forces counterattacked. A few minutes later, clanging and hammering came from the enemy ship as the gnomes prepared something for their next assault. Slater was running low on defenders, having only a pair of reapers manning another strong point toward the aft of the ship and a few automated defenses sprinkled about. He contemplated pulling some reapers in from the station, but they were starting to bog down as more gnomish reinforcements joined the fight and began to use their superior knowledge of their station to attack from unexpected areas.
“Everyone, clear the path. Get back on board and let this beauty do what it does,” A shouted. The gnomes fell back, removing the makeshift defenses they had set up earlier. Once the hatchway was clear, Slater began to hear a squeal of metal on metal, the whirring of gears, and even a blast of steam as the death contraption thingy made its appearance.
— 21 —
All eyes were focused on the boarding hatch as the crew of the Franklin waited for the death contraption thingy to arrive. A blast of flame erupted into the boarding compartment and would have incinerated any defenders pursuing the retreating gnomes. Propelled by a combination of metallic legs, wheels, and even metal claws, the worm-like contraption entered the Franklin.
The front of the creation had an armored shell forged to resemble a gnome’s face. From the “mouth” of the contraption, puffs of flame burst out, while weapon barrels protruded from the eyes. Like a giant mechanical snake, the thing kept coming, nearly filling the passageway with its bulk and having to scrape the sides of the hatch to make its way inside. After the head segment, more and more sections emerged, each attached by an armored yet flexible material. By the time the tail emerged from the raider, the death contraption thingy measured over fifty feet long. The clockwork ticking sound of gears working was heard over the screech of metal, and the tail of the creature held a pipe that let out large puffs of steam every few seconds.
“What kind of messed-up mind would come up with something like that?” Lieutenant Camden said.
“It looks like it could break down at any moment,” Doctor Cheng added.
Slater kept his thoughts to himself, trying to figure out how to defeat the contraption while at the same time wondering if it would even make it to the first barricade. He focused on the small gap between it and the sides of the passageway as it moved, firing off Magic Blast into the conf
ined space. The section he had targeted was shoved violently into the far side of the passageway. The collision left a dent in the creature’s armored side but did nothing to impede the mechanical monster. Further blasts to various sections were ineffective and only served to deplete his mana.
The machine had a hard time turning the corner of the boarding area and entering the main passage. The delay afforded his remaining gnome MOBS the opportunity to each empty a mag into the thing before it could bring its weapons to bear. The armor-piercing rounds left divots in the face of the contraption, failing to penetrate but stripping off bits of armor with each hit. A few rounds hit the sides of the monster as it made the turn, and those rounds did some damage, penetrating the more thinly armored sides and hitting whatever made up the innards of the machine. The few strikes that penetrated the shell didn’t seem to hit anything vital, and the monster began to scrape its way down the passage toward Slater’s defensive barricade.
From the eyes of the contraption, lasers burst forth. Unlike the laser rifles the enemy had used earlier, these fired continuous beams, burning into anything they touched. Thankfully, the monster didn’t seem to really aim them, and the beams sliced out randomly as the head of the contraption shook with the creature’s every movement. The barricade offered good protection for the kobolds, and the beams’ constant movement ensured they didn’t focus on any one spot long enough to burn through. His only problem was that his gnomes couldn’t fire without exposing at least enough of their bodies to aim their weapons.
The beams sliced off the top half of a MOBS’ head as it popped up to fire. Random hits dropped all but the final one of his MOBS defending the barricade—the one he had printed to look like Fitzfazzle. Trying out his shield ability, Slater placed a protective bubble around the gnome. He ordered his Fitzfazzle to stand and start rapid firing at the approaching monster. Slater’s shield didn’t impede Fitzfazzle’s outgoing fire, which was a relief. A few beams glanced over the gnome, depleting the energy of the shield as Slater’s mana poured into the spell to keep his gnome in the fight as long as possible.
