Chains of Duty (Survival Wars Book 3)
Page 8
“We don’t know if that’s going to work,” said McGlashan. “Another couple of minutes and we’ll be close enough to give it a go.”
“How many Lambda clusters can we bring to bear?”
“We’ve got sixteen operational, of which two I wouldn’t want to chance using. Of the fourteen, we can use them all if they’ll successfully target the object. If we need to launch in a straight line, we’ll only be able to bring seven to bear at one time. The nukes are still showing a total malfunction.”
“Be prepared with the countermeasures if they launch anything from below,” said Duggan. A distance countdown on his screen showed how close they were to lock-on range.
“Our missile targeting is fully functional,” said McGlashan. “Whatever it is on the ground it’s not carrying the same tech as their warships.”
“Let the Dretisear know we’re about to commence bombardment.”
“They’ve acknowledged, sir. Nothing more,” said Perry.
“Fire when ready, Commander. Fourteen full clusters.”
“Aye, sir, missile launch complete. One hundred and forty on their way.”
“That should be enough to give them a fright,” said Breeze.
From their furthest range, it took the Lambdas a full minute to reach a stationary target. The crew of the Terminus remained silent while the guided plasma warheads closed in on the artefact far below. Chainer diverted one of the sensor feeds onto the bulkhead screen. From this distance the image was grainy, but clear enough that the target was visible as a large near-black pyramid with blurred edges. Suddenly, the image became entirely white as the missiles detonated with an intensity of light far in excess of what the screen could replicate. Even so, it was bright and Duggan had to squint his eyes against the glare. The plasma fire dissipated within seconds.
“Still there,” said Reyes.
“There was an immense power reading when we hit the shield, sir,” said Chainer. “It only lasted a couple of seconds and could have powered a dozen big cities for the same amount of time.”
“Fire again,” said Duggan. “Every tube, and utilise the rapid reload for three waves.”
“Roger,” said McGlashan.
More Lambdas raced away, followed eight seconds later by another wave and finally by a third.
“If four hundred don’t do the business, I don’t know what will,” said Chainer. “Apart from the nukes, that is.”
The bulkhead screen lit up again and again. Each time the light faded, the artefact remained untouched, stubbornly defiant against the firepower directed against it. When the final wave of Lambdas had exploded fruitlessly against the energy shield, Duggan slumped into his seat.
“Have we got anything else?” he asked. “Will the beam weapons penetrate?”
“In truth, I don’t know,” said Breeze. “I don’t think it’s safe to use them yet. If they burn out more of our engines, we could be stranded here for weeks.”
It wasn’t something Duggan wanted to contemplate – he wanted to destroy the object and get away from this forsaken place as soon as possible. He could continue to expend missiles against the shield, yet was convinced there was little hope it would succeed.
“The peak energy readings didn’t drop,” said Chainer. “Whatever they have powering the shield, it wasn’t weakened.”
“Sir? Maybe we should turn around and put some distance between us and the planet,” said McGlashan.
“That choice does not sit well with me, Commander. It will resolve nothing.” He had a thought. “Lieutenant Breeze, you mentioned that you’d contributed to the Space Corps’ research into our own version of an energy shield.”
“Just peripheral input, sir.”
“You said you’d picked up a few things – like the shields’ vulnerability to gamma rays. Do you think the energy shield below is a complete sphere, encompassing the artefact entirely?”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“Can you project an energy shield through rock, for instance?”
“I see,” said Breeze, nodding his head. “Well, the Space Corps’ research wasn’t too far along and we couldn’t do anything like the Dreamers have done. However, it needs exponentially greater power to maintain the shield through the resistance of other atoms – hence the power spikes we see when our missiles impact against them. You want to know if the surface energy shield goes into the surface of the rock and I would give you an educated response that it does not. It’s probably something like an umbrella that comes very close to the surface, without penetrating beneath.”
Duggan gave a humourless smile. “In that case, it’s time for us to go down for a closer look.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT WAS McGlashan’s duty to suggest alternatives. On this occasion, she saw the set of Duggan’s face and kept her own counsel on the matter.
“A full deployment, sir?” she asked.
“We don’t know what’s waiting for us, so we’re going down there with everything we’ve got,” he said. “The worst that can happen is we arrive and there’s nothing to oppose us.”
“We don’t have a heavy-lift transporter with us,” said Lieutenant Nichols. A ship like the Terminus had the ability to deploy troops and hardware. What it didn’t have was any way to recover that hardware once it was dropped – there were dedicated pickup vessels for that work, none of which were within a weeks’ travel.
“I’m aware of that, Lieutenant,” said Duggan. “This mission is already an expensive one, but we aren’t going to worry about the money.” He smiled challengingly.
“Let’s look after the guys and gals by giving them our full support, rather than sending them out with a dozen rifles to share,” said McGlashan.
“Captain Duggan,” said Nichols, ignoring McGlashan’s words. “I am not convinced that a deployment of the hardware we’re carrying is the best course. We are throwing good money after bad.”
Duggan shook his head. “Didn’t you hear what Commander McGlashan said? We support our troops with everything we’ve got.”
“If you’re set on this course, a scouting party would be the best way to determine what proportion of the ship’s equipment you need to utilise,” said Nichols.
“You’re overstepping, Lieutenant,” said Duggan with a dangerous edge to his voice.
“Not at all, sir. I’m merely performing the duties given to me by my department.”
“You’re interfering with the appointed captain of the ES Terminus. We’re deploying everything, unless you’re telling me the Military Asset Management people have assigned a greater value on their tanks than they have on the Space Corps’ soldiers?”
“Everything has a price, sir. I am formally advising you that Military Asset Management disagrees with this release of hardware.”
“Disagrees?” shouted Duggan. “We’re at war, man! Where’s your authority to tell me how to act in a hostile situation?”
“My superiors will confirm my authority.”
“We have no comms, Lieutenant. All I can hear at the moment is hot air.”
Nichols smiled knowingly. “As you wish, Captain. The resolution of this matter will happen later.”
“Shut up and get out of my sight, Lieutenant Nichols! Your organisation is a disgrace.”
Nichols didn’t answer. He simply nodded his head once and returned to his seat. The confrontation had interrupted preparations for the troop deployment and left the others quiet with shock. It was Chainer who spoke first.
“Can we fit a hundred into the transport shuttle to bring everyone back?” he asked. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze.”
“We’ve got a shuttle on each side,” said Duggan. “There’s plenty of room.” He didn’t mention that it would be tough if they came back with a few injured – it felt like it would bring bad luck if he talked about casualties before they happened.
“Not so much room if one of those enemy missiles had impacted next to one of our shuttles,” said Massey.
“Get the troops ready - load them up into the tanks. We have a target object protected by a shield generator and we’re going to see what we can see – it’s Dreamer tech. We’re taking everything in the hold and I’ll be in command.”
“Roger that, sir. It’ll be nice to give our own input, if you know what I mean? Some of the boys here have got itchy trigger fingers.”
“I’m sure they have,” said Duggan, ending the communication. He found McGlashan staring at him.
“You don’t need to go, sir. Lieutenant Ortiz is more than capable. You’d be better off on the bridge.”
“You’re right, Commander, I would be better on the bridge. However, I am giving you this opportunity to show what you can do. A commander does not become a captain without showing her worth.”
“I don’t care about perception of worth, sir. I care about the success of this mission,” she said.
“We’ll succeed with you or I in charge,” he said. “I won’t be swayed on this, Commander. It’s vital I take a look at what’s down there, rather than leaving it to others. I have a feeling that what happens on Trasgor will have repercussions and I can’t deal with them if I haven’t been fully involved in the actions I order.”
McGlashan didn’t look happy, but she wasn’t one to shy away from responsibility. “Very well, sir. I’ll look after the Terminus while you’re gone.” Her expression cleared like a cloud moving away from the sun. “Just don’t try and blame me for those holes in our side. They can go on the list of Captain John Duggan’s misdemeanours.”
“Agreed,” he said. He turned his attention to other matters. “Lieutenant Chainer, I assume you’ll be able to keep in close touch using the backup comms systems?”
“Yes, sir. It’s not as if they’re prehistoric or anything. They were made when we couldn’t travel the distances we can go on a modern spaceship. Messages will reach the planet’s surface in less than a second and come back at the same speed.”
“Good. I may well need you.” He walked to McGlashan and spoke to her quietly so he wouldn’t be overheard. “Keep an eye on Lieutenant Nichols. I have no idea why he’s here, but I’m convinced there’s more to him than meets the eye.”
“You got it, sir. I can handle him.”
“Make sure you can and don’t put up with any insubordination. If tries anything, lock him up under my authority.”
“Will do.”
Duggan left the bridge and broke into a run towards the hold. There was noise and activity, with soldiers breaking out rifles and bandoliers of plasma grenades. It was warmer than it should be, though not so bad that there was any immediate risk of injury from it. He pulled a spare suit down from a wall locker and struggled his way into it, cursing under his breath as he did so.
“Need a hand, sir?” It was Lieutenant Ortiz.
“I think I’ll manage,” he said with a grimace. Something caught his eye on the shoulder of Ortiz’ suit. The word Jess had been written in black ink.
“Thought you deserved your own private suit?” he asked.
“I didn’t want one of these sweaty bastards putting it on later, sir,” she said. “We’ve got plenty of spares onboard so there’s no need to share.”
Duggan chuckled. “We need to tie the repeaters and launchers onto the backs of the heavy tanks,” he said, bringing the subject on to the matters at hand.
“I’ve given instructions to hook them up,” she said. “We’ll be ready to go in less than fifteen minutes. There’s ninety of us left, including you. A few of the guys suffered minor burns on top of the more serious injuries. I decided they should stay behind.”
“That’s fine, Lieutenant. It makes an even fifteen in each tank on the way down and a bit more breathing room on the way up,” said Duggan. “I have no idea what we’re facing. From what I’ve seen so far, it’s not likely to be friendly.”
“Maybe one day we’ll meet a bunch of aliens who aren’t determined to wipe us out.”
“I’m not expecting to see them any time soon,” said Duggan.
“What sort of gear do you think they’ll have, sir?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Lieutenant. I wish I had a better answer for you.”
“Sometimes this job sucks,” she said, the look on her face suggesting that now definitely wasn’t one of those times.
Ortiz moved away, shouting orders at the men and women in the hold. The urgency increased noticeably wherever her finger pointed. Duggan finished putting his suit on and picked up the helmet. The nearest weapons locker was hanging open and he grabbed a rifle. He chose one of the two Colossus tanks at random. A set of eight steep steps went upwards through the outer armour, ending at a heavy servo-powered door that led into the tank’s interior. There was a man stationed within, counting off the numbers who came inside. Duggan assumed the soldiers been given squad numbers and assigned their own vehicles.
“Welcome aboard, Captain,” said Butler.
“Thank you, soldier,” said Duggan, squeezing through.
“I thought these tanks were all in museums now.”
You’ll be glad they aren’t when the shooting starts,” replied Duggan, moving away.
Duggan hadn’t been inside a Colossus tank for years and nothing much had changed. There were three rooms – one for command and control, the other two for carrying troops in a certain amount of discomfort. Duggan had entered through one of the two side entrances, which took him into one of the small holding rooms. A doorway in the metal wall led to a short connecting passage and then to the control room. The tank was huge, but even so it was cramped within and the lighting was a gloomy and subdued green. It would turn red if the tank came under fire. There were bucket seats along two of the walls, with five of them currently occupied. Duggan nodded at the soldiers as he went through.
Corporal Hammond was in the control room – he was broad, with tousled brown hair and an air of competence. There were four seats in total and a bewildering array of screens and consoles. “All systems are operational, sir,” Hammond said. “We’re waiting on two more who’ll be in here with me, and then we can go when the order comes.”
“That order will be coming soon,” Duggan replied. “You’re in charge of this tank?”
“Yes, sir.”
Duggan spent a few moments looking around. He knew how to control the smaller tanks in the Space Corps – those on a Vincent class were disposable and basic. The Colossus tank was packed with all manner of extra equipment and was definitely not classed as a disposable asset. There was much that looked familiar to Duggan’s eye. He guessed he’d be able to get the tank moving and firing, just not as efficiently as someone like Hammond. When it came down to it, much of the hardware in the Space Corps ran off the same back-end programming and many of the interfaces were closely related. It was what allowed well-trained people like Duggan to effectively utilise a variety of military resources. A fleet warship was by far the most demanding and responsible role. Corporal Hammond would be able to handle a tank – generally only the best and most well-trained soldiers went onto a spacecraft - but he’d have no hope when it came to controlling even a Vincent class. It took several years of training for that.
“I’ll need the fourth seat,” Duggan said. “To coordinate with the Terminus.”
“We’ve got nobody sitting in that one, sir,” said Hammond, pointing. “It’s all yours.”
Duggan took the indicated seat. The console was powered up and ready to use and he plugged into the other tanks to find out their statuses. The soldiers knew their stuff and four of the other five were set to go. While Duggan familiarised himself with the menu options on the tank, soldiers Reed and Quinn entered the control room and squeezed into their seats.
“Bridge, this is Dugg
an, do you copy?”
“I copy,” came the voice of Chainer.
“We’ll be ready in a few minutes. Commander McGlashan will initiate the launch sequence when I give the go-ahead.”
“Right you are, sir. I’ve got green lights from four out of the six vehicles already and yours just came on to make it five.”
“We’ll wait for the sixth – everyone goes at once.”
“We’re holding at forty thousand klicks above the surface. How high do you want?”
“Tell Commander McGlashan to come to five thousand and return to a high orbit as soon as we’re away.”
“Will do, sir. I’ve just had the sixth green light.”
Duggan muted his mouthpiece. “Corporal Hammond, the bridge sees six green lights. Can you confirm?”
“Yes, sir. All the tanks are prepared for launch.”
“Bridge, this is Duggan. Please lock down the cargo bay and initiate launch at five thousand klicks.”
“Roger that, we’ll be saying farewell in ninety seconds.”
As he watched the countdown on his screen, Duggan felt a sense of anticipation about what might be to come. He’d told McGlashan that he wanted her to taste the responsibility of captaincy. His words had been genuine, but the other reason was that he couldn’t stay away from danger. The lure of it whispered to him constantly, until it became a struggle to ignore. There were times he wondered if the addiction made him act recklessly and he had no answer to the question.
“We’re launching in five seconds,” said Hammond to the troops onboard.
There was a clunking of something mechanical, followed by a sickening feeling of intense acceleration. The Colossus tank was hurled downwards along magnetic runners. A hatch in the spacecraft’s hull burst open to allow the vehicle to eject. A moment later, the hatch closed, leaving the hull smooth and without visible seam. Already far below, the tank tore through the sky, plummeting towards the surface of Trasgor. Inside, the men and women cracked nervous jokes to distract themselves from humanity’s innate fear of falling.