by Mel Odom
The mention of explosive ordnance reminded Sage of the task he’d assigned to Corporal Culpepper. He opened a private channel to Culpepper. “How is it coming, Corporal?”
“We’ll make the deadline with time to spare, Master Sergeant,” Culpepper replied.
The demolitions expert sounded distracted, but totally at ease, lost in his element. That was how Sage wanted an explosives professional to sound while performing his job.
“At first I was worried we might not have packed in enough B+8,” Culpepper continued, “but with all the firepower this tub is carrying, we’re going to be fine.” He chuckled. “The trick is to not be anywhere around this thing when this load goes off.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sage replied dryly.
“You know the problem with what I do, Master Sergeant?” Culpepper asked. “Nobody gets to see my finest work. They don’t see all the math, all the wiring, all the placements I have to figure out. The blast ratios, explosion versus implosion, shaped charges. People just don’t take any of that into consideration. All they see is the collapsed buildings, broken bridges, and smoking craters I leave behind.”
“I’ll be happy with those,” Sage said. “Stay with it.”
“Looking forward to it. Even if I have to say so, and no one else is gonna ever see it, I gotta say this is gonna be some of my finest work. I’m recording it, though, so if we survive this, maybe I can show it while we drink beer.”
Sage grinned. “After we pull this off, the first round is on me.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that, Master Sergeant.”
Sage cut comm.
Despite Culpepper’s calm, if not jubilant, response, the closer the submersible got to the hidden fortress, the less Sage believed the subterfuge was going to work. There were too many variables in play. They had to get the boat in close to the shoreline in order for the munitions to do the most good, and do that without being discovered.
Otherwise they were going to face a much larger and better-equipped enemy group on what was home territory for them. There were far too many things that could go wrong.
He thought maybe his doubts were fed by the lingering effects of the venom and anti-venom still cycling out of his system. The suit’s internal transfusion system had insisted on kicking in and washing all of it out of his body to get him back up to prime. The lieutenant, after he’d learned what had happened, had also insisted.
He stood hooked up to a saline bag and the coldness of the fluids flushed through his forearm, elbow, and shoulder. The nanobots Gilbride had infused in his blood carried the residual toxins from his system and pumped him full of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories. He felt better than he suspected he had any right to.
“Okay, Master Sergeant,” the young medtech beside Sage said. “You’re good to go.” He disconnected the saline bag from the suit’s medport under Sage’s left arm and buttoned the armor up tight.
“Thank you,” Sage said.
The medtech gathered his kit and called up the next soldier that needed attention.
“I think I’ve found the communications log,” Murad announced.
“Splendid,” Pingasa congratulated. “Send the information to my suit and I will see if there’s something in there we can use to convince the Phrenorian guards that we are who we hope they think we are.”
“On its way,” Murad said.
Communications was one of the big problems. So far there had been no contact with the Phrenorian base, but Sage knew that wouldn’t last long. Whoever monitored the supply run for the Phrenorians would reach out soon enough.
If they weren’t ready for that, they wouldn’t get any closer without running into resistance.
A thought occurred to Sage and he opened the comm channel to Culpepper again. “If I was in charge of the supply run, I’d consider the possibility that someone would think about doing exactly what we’re doing.”
“Taking the boat?”
“Yeah.”
“And you’d want to make sure that didn’t happen, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So you’d probably wire the submersibles with explosives you could set off from a distance.”
Culpepper’s relaxed tone told Sage all he needed to know. “You’ve already found them.”
“I have,” Culpepper replied. “And I’ve repurposed them. Those explosives, kinda primitive and not sexy at all, but definitely packing enough boom to get the job done, are now ours. When we light this thing up, there’s not gonna be much of it left.”
“And there’s going to be a big hole into that base?”
“Oh, yeah. I’m looking forward to that. Like I said, this is some of my best work.”
“I found the blueprints of the fortress,” Murad announced.
The lieutenant waved his hand over the CIC table and the holo software came online with a flicker that formed what Sage assumed was a three-dimensional model of the secret Phrenorian fortress.
Sage stepped over to join Murad at the table. Some of his anxiousness settled down. Figuring out how best to attack the Phrenorians there was something he could do. “Good job, sir.”
“This thing is bigger than what we thought.” Murad spoke softly over the private comm he shared with Sage. He dragged his hand through the holo and flipped it around to examine it from different angles.
“How big?” Sage asked. He couldn’t find any point of reference.
Murad spread his hands inside the holo and blew up the image. He pointed to two parallel sections that looked small in comparison to the rest of the structure.
“This is quarters for the troops,” Murad said.
Sage gazed at the rooms but didn’t know how large they were. Phrenorian warriors tended to cluster in large groups until they made rank. “Do you know how many troops?”
“Over a hundred from what it says here,” Murad told him. “Closer to two hundred. At least a company. Maybe more.” He wiped a nervous hand over his face. “We’re seriously outnumbered.”
The number of Phrenorian warriors surprised Sage. He’d thought his soldiers would be outnumbered three or four to one. If Murad’s numbers were correct, they were closer to being outnumbered ten to one.
“We didn’t account for this many Phrenorians,” Murad said.
“We’re not here to go toe-to-toe with the enemy, sir,” Sage reminded. “We’re just here to take away their toys and cut down on the odds against us somewhat. Any idea what General Rangha has hidden there?”
Murad tapped the holo and brought up another list. “I don’t know if this file has everything. Like you discovered at the storage facilities in Cheapdock, Rangha had his hands on a lot of mil-spec weaponry. There are Yqueu tracked assault vehicles that range from squad-based fast-attack craft to thirty-meter-tall rolling strongholds equipped with batteries of laser and solid-projectile cannons that can level a city and transport several dozen warriors.”
Images of the Phrenorian TAVs flipped by on the holo.
“Powersuits,” Murad continued. “Manned and unmanned aerial fighting ships.” He shook his head and stared at the images. “This is bigger than we thought.”
“How long has that base been there?” Sage asked.
“For years from the looks of the data in this file. Way before Fort York’s first cornerstone was laid.”
“The only explanation is that Rangha was running his side business a lot longer than anyone knew,” Sage said. “Makaum was a fringe world for generations, a place the Alliance didn’t have any interest in.”
“Not until resources for the Phrenorian War in this sector became an issue a few years ago and Command negotiated a treaty to build the fort,” Murad agreed. “Rangha probably chose this planet to do business under the radar because it was away from Alliance and Empire interests. Only that didn’t last. It was just Rangha’s bad luck that we came in. Until then, he could buy, sell, and trade black market weapons without any problems. Makaum was a trade planet for independents for years.
After Fort York was constructed and manned, Rangha got himself assigned here to protect his black market profits.”
“It could have been our bad luck too,” Sage said. “If we hadn’t found out about this place, Rangha would have run roughshod over Makaum. Now, if we don’t shut this place down and destroy those materials, Zhoh could still do exactly that. I’m surprised he hasn’t already rolled the heavy armor out into the streets and filled the skies with his aircraft.”
“The Phrenorian Empire won’t field these units until they can put a face on them,” Murad said. “PsyOps says the Phrenorians have elaborate layers of honor they have to negotiate. The weapons here would have benefited them, but until they can legitimize what Rangha was doing with them here, they won’t use them.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
Murad faced Sage. “Does walking away from this planet make any sense to you?”
“No.” Sage was convinced of that. “If we do that, if we leave these people to be run over by the Phrenorians, history will look back and say it’s one of the worst things we’ve ever done.”
“That will be later generations, then,” Murad said. “Not the commanders who are telling us what to do. The policymakers in the Alliance are thinking the military has embarrassed itself on Makaum because we haven’t been able to contain the situation.”
Sage spoke softly and held back the anger that threatened to explode within him. “We haven’t been given the chance. We were understaffed, loaded with green soldiers who hadn’t seen much more than basic training, and told to keep a hands-off protocol with the Phrenorians. We should have been on firmer footing and sent the Phrenorians packing.”
“I agree,” Murad said. “But to do that, we’d have had to ignore what the Makaum people said they wanted. Even Quass Leghef felt that way initially.” He paused. “The colonel has told me you think a lot of her, and that she feels a closeness to you. Would you have been willing to go against her wishes?”
Sage thought of Quass Leghef and remembered the draorm the woman had given him not so long ago. The purple and white wood band had been carved from a single piece of wood. Before she had given it to Sage, it had belonged to her dead husband. The term translated into “seed of my seed.” Fathers made them for their children.
“No,” Sage said. “I would not.”
“Not even if it were for her own good?”
That was a harder question, but Sage knew the answer. “No, not even then. She’s an adult. She’s paid the price to make her own decisions, whatever they are.”
Murad let out a breath. “You realize the Phrenorians probably think we’re pretty stupid letting go of a military asset that we could have easily taken.”
Sage nodded. “We have rules of engagement.”
“So do the Phrenorians,” Murad said. “Be glad this one has worked out, mostly, in our favor.”
In that moment, Sage understood that Murad operated on a different level than he did. Murad looked at all the politically motivated pressures behind the war where Sage only wanted to deal with the human side of things. He knew he wasn’t officer material. He’d known that for a long time. He didn’t have the patience or temperament for it. He was glad people like Halladay and Murad—and even Kiwanuka, because she was better at those things than he was—existed.
Thinking of Kiwanuka reminded him of where she was, and he couldn’t help but think of what she might be facing even now. Or—if things had gone badly—had faced. He put the thought out of his mind because it had no place there now. Not with the fortress looming only minutes away.
Morlortai wouldn’t be easy to catch. Even if the assassin ended up in military custody, Sage didn’t think it would much matter. The Alliance was pulling off Makaum.
“Lieutenant,” Pingasa called from the pilot seat.
Murad blanked the holo. “Yes, Corporal.”
“We’re getting hailed by the Phrenorians, sir. We need to respond.”
THIRTY-NINE
Kequaem’s Needle
Makaum Space
0526 Hours Zulu Time
The explosion threw smoke and flames into the corridor. Fire-suppression systems kicked into operation immediately afterward and added a frantic flurry to the confusion.
Kiwanuka stepped through the opening and sprinted for the lift hatch. The firmpoints had been reduced to scrap. Wiring and chunks of protective armor hung on the wall on either side of the hatch. More lay on the corridor floor.
Kiwanuka slammed into place against the bulkhead next to the electronic lock on the lift hatch. She tapped the controls but nothing happened.
She opened a channel to Veug, the elint specialist. He had gone with Cipriano’s team to secure the ship’s engines in the stern compartments. “Veug, I need assistance.”
Goldberg and Noojin joined Kiwanuka, but she raised a hand and held the rest of the team back. She signaled for them to maintain their positions in case she and the others had to retreat.
“Copy that, Staff Sergeant.” Hoarse breathing punctuated Veug’s words. “We’re securing the engine room now. What do you need?”
Kiwanuka checked the stats on Cipriano’s team. Two of them were wounded, one of them in a medically induced coma instigated by his armor, but they were alive.
Kiwanuka placed a wafer over the electronic lock. She tapped the activation sequence. “I need a hatch opened. Standing by for a handshake.”
“Copy that,” Veug responded. “Handshake on its way.”
Kiwanuka brought up Sergeant Cipriano’s vid display and looked over the large engine room. The computer systems all appeared to be online and operating smoothly. Two of Cipriano’s squad members had some experience working in backup capacities in engineering on Terran military ships.
Kiwanuka hoped that would be enough.
“Sergeant Cipriano,” Kiwanuka said. “Do you have control of the engines?”
“Roger that,” Cipriano replied. “We have all four drives locked down tight. This ship isn’t going anywhere except on thrusters, and it won’t get far on those.”
“Good.”
“Mostly good,” Cipriano said. “Corporal Dewan tells me she’s discovered circuitry and programming that suggests this ship’s bridge was designed to break away from the main body and navigate on its own.”
Kiwanuka cursed and pulled her attention back to the waver on the lift hatch’s locking mechanism. “Can you stop it from there if they try that?”
“Negative. But we have some leverage. While taking the engine room, we captured two of the ship’s main crew from the list we were given. Maybe our target won’t be so quick to leave without them. We’ve got Darrantia, the Voreusk that managed to escape from us, and Daus, the lab rat. And I do mean rat. Have you ever seen a Nidakian up close?”
“No.” Kiwanuka pulled up the images from Cipriano’s files and looked at Darrantia and Daus, who did indeed look like an oversized rodent.
“They smell worse than you think,” Cipriano said.
“I’ll take your word for it, Sergeant.” Kiwanuka cleared her HUD and watched the wafer. “Veug?”
“Almost, almost,” Veug replied in a distracted tone. “There. Got it.”
The wafer pulsed green.
Canting her Roley at her side, Kiwanuka tapped the release mechanism.
The hatch released with a hiss, and a bilious cloud of heavy gas spilled out of the lift. The gas was colorless, but it looked cloudy against the ship’s atmosphere.
Warning, the near-AI said. Immediate atmosphere is toxic. Analyzing vapor, but it appears to be—
Kiwanuka let the suit talk to itself while she stepped onto the circular lift platform. It didn’t matter what the gas was as long as she could avoid it. As the gas’s viscosity grew, the harsh light struggled to penetrate the roiling vapor that continued to spew from jets above and below the lift. Goldberg and Noojin followed her into the lift.
Suit integrity intact and maintaining, the near-AI said.
Kiwanuka pre
ssed the controls to go up to the bridge.
The lift remained dormant.
“Veug,” she called.
“I’m working on it, Staff Sergeant,” the computer specialist responded. “Lots of layers in the programming, but I got this.”
The lift door closed abruptly. Kiwanuka pressed the button to reopen the door, but it didn’t move.
“Veug?” Kiwanuka looked at the lift and spotted the vid cams tucked in behind sec transplas.
“Not me,” Veug said. “Somebody else has control over the lift.”
Smooth, interlocking plasteel plates created the lift walls. The lift jerked into motion and spun rapidly, gathering speed. Centrifugal forces shoved Kiwanuka against the plates. Lethal voltage juiced through the plasteel and only the AKTIVsuits kept Kiwanuka and her charges alive. She ignored the suit’s warning because the lift’s top or bottom lowered or rose. Maybe it was both, because the space available inside the lift quickly grew inexorably smaller.
“Veug,” Kiwanuka said.
“I see it, I see it!” Veug replied. “On it!”
The comm connection crackled and spat, and Kiwanuka guessed the lift chamber was juicing interference as well. Whoever had constructed the trap had done a thorough job of it.
Senses whirling despite the anti-nausea meds automatically administered by the suit, Kiwanuka took a degaussing grenade from her armor rack, pulled the pin, and heaved the ordnance at the blank space on the other side of the lift. The grenade struck the wall and stayed there, trapped by the centrifugal force.
An instant later, the grenade exploded and released an electromagnetic pulse that flared out twenty meters. The lights flickered and went out. The lift ceased spinning suddenly enough that Kiwanuka almost couldn’t recover and only just remained standing.
Noojin leaned against the wall section where she’d been trapped only a moment before. Goldberg spilled to the floor and threw up in her helmet. The suit broadcasted her cursing and the gurgling of the helmet suctioning her stomach contents clear before she could shut the comm down.
