Battle for Maji-Onda (Starmen (Space Opera Series) Book 2)

by J. M. Hagan

  The captain’s quarters were pristine as ever. Her room was in the back. He knew from the glimpses he had caught at times that it was well furnished. But out here was all business. Just a few chairs and her touchscreen desk.

  “Chief. I take it the Dok’ra attacked Starman HQ?”

  She went behind her desk and he stood at attention before her. “Yes, Captain. A Witch.”

  “My God,” she gasped. Then her eyes shut. She swallowed a rock. “How many?”

  “Numbers aren’t in yet.”

  Her eyes opened thinly. “Did they get her?”

  “The threat has been neutralized. But that was just a pre-cursor to the attack. We need to do internal sweeps immediately. There could be other Agents on-board.”

  “We have no reports of sabotage, as of yet. Very well. Get your men on it.”

  “They already are.”

  Then the com crackled in the corner of the room. “Captain – transport shuttles in-bound. They’ve launched figh—in-coming! Brace for impact.”

  The Chief clung to the desk, biting down as a fierce tremor rattled through the station.

  “They are targeting the central areas!”

  The Captain stormed out steadily enough in spite of the vibrations. They were trying to take Maji-Onda down.

  “They always hit hard in the beginning,” cried the Captain, as the Chief followed her out. “We’ve all read history books on it.”

  “Captain – we don’t have enough fighters in the air to deal with the armoured transport shuttles that are on approach,” cried Hamley, her XO.

  “Open a station-wide channel.”

  Hamley flicked a few switches in a hurry. Then nodded her way.

  “This is Captain Lu. All citizens with flight training report to the military hangar immediately. I repeat. All citizens with flight training report for duty. As for everyone else – please proceed to the life-boats in Hangar-A with consideration for others. Security has been dispatched.”

  She slit her finger along her throat and Hamley ended the transmission. The Captain turned. “Chief – co-ordinate security from here.”

  “Yes, Captain. Although, I’d much rather be on the ground.”

  “Request denied,” she responded curtly. “I might need you here.”

  Fischer’s jaw tightened as he accepted it. He pressed his wrist-com. “Mara – I’m sending your evac. Get up here. We need to plan our defences. Send word to HQ – I want every available cadet helping the security teams with internal defences.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied hastily.

  “Hamley – what’s the ETA on those transport shuttles?” cried the Chief.

  The XO checked his screen. “Seven minutes.”

  Fischer returned to his wrist com. “Mara – are Murphy and the others prepared?”

  “They are making final preparations now, Chief.”

  “How many men do we have waiting for them?”

  A moment later. “Thirty-five.”

  “Tell them to hold out. I’m going to send, Jeriko, and the Cadets from HQ to lend assistance.”

  *

  They heard the Captain’s call and Siena, Jeriko, and Anderson, looked at each other.

  They were in the infirmary, pumped full of non-drowsy pain meds. Siena, in her urgency to help, took a doctor aside and told him to take out the bullet quickly. When he took a delicate approach, she grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

  “Doc – pull it out,” she demanded. “Right now.”

  He gave her a look. Then his face hardened. He dug in the clamps and pulled the bullet with conviction. Siena gasped. Her hand found Anderson’s and she squeezed tight enough that he could feel her pain almost.

  Jeriko turned away to answer a call on his PDP.

  After some moments, the doctor managed to pull it out all the way. Then he hurried to press a dressing against the hole when blood came spilling out.

  Siena let out a soft moan. Then she turned her head to the side and wiped a little wetness from beneath her eye. “Patch me up. We need to get to the hangar.”

  “Are you sure you are up to this?” asked Anderson, concerned. He didn’t need her help if she was going to become a liability. He didn’t want her to needlessly throw her life away, either.

  “I can co-pilot,” she said, looking at her cut hand in lament. Never mind the state of her shoulder, there was no way she could handle a stick through the rumble of combat.

  He accepted it with a nod. The doctor bandaged her up quick as he could. Then he sprayed the wound of her sliced hand shut with some medical glue.

  Jeriko returned from his call and gave a grunt of amusement. “You’ve got some stones,” he said.

  “Are you coming with us?”

  Jeriko shook his head, holding up his assault rifle. “Just received orders from the Chief. I’ll take whatever Cadets I can find and go rendezvous with, Malora, and the others. Like you, that girl is too cute to die,” he said, looking down her figure with cool appreciation.

  Siena smirked. “Good luck, Jeriko. And thanks.”

  They started walking together. “For what? Saving your life, or saying you’re hot?”

  “Both.”

  Anderson followed with a frown. But he quickly laughed into himself.

  “Good luck, man,” said Anderson, holding out his hand.

  Jeriko gave a quick shake. “You’re all right, Anderson, despite being a poor card player. If we make it out of this alive, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “…Thanks.” Asshole.

  Location: Maji-Onda Station, Thoroughfare

  Siena and Anderson raced through the main thoroughfare, dodging the oncoming traffic of fleeing citizens in distress. While they were headed for the military hangar, almost everyone else was heading in the direction of the lifeboats.

  A tube near the end of the corridor was spraying gas, sparks were flying off the billboards. This area of the station was taking a heavy pounding – they needed to get through quickly.

  The interior rocked and people were thrown all around as the roof above blew open and the whole area began to decompress.

  Anderson felt a terrible cold wind wrap around him like an icy blanket. It started drawing him in. His eyes thinned as he watched people close by shoot up in the air and then fly out of the hole into deadly space. Screams rang all around.

  He and Siena grabbed hold of a nearby rail and held on for their lives. The people who had fallen from the initial impact tremors were sliding away. Tumbling bodies flailed arms every which way.

  Anderson, in his terror, noticed a small boy being sucked along the floor at his feet. He reached out sharply and grabbed a fist-full of clothing. Then he started pulling him in, and Siena hurried to give assistance when she saw what was happening. They placed the boy in between them and held him safely.

  "What the hell are we gonna do?!" Anderson yelled, over the screams and the tearing winds.

  "Just hold on!" Siena cried in response, her eyes thin, watery slits, with pale cheeks looking as cold as Anderson felt.

  An old man and woman were holding on dearly next to him. Anderson shot her a glance, letting her know what he was thinking – Siena made sure to secure the boy even tighter before he let go of him. Anderson tucked the old couple in behind him, then held on strongly with his leg firmly planted at an angle to give them more support.

  A young guy shot by his feet, screaming, and grabbed hold of his extended leg.

  "No!" Anderson roared, fighting desperately to maintain his balance.

  The guy wrapped both arms around his ankle, squeezed for dear life, and Anderson screamed with effort as he endeavoured to save them all.

  A heavy metal thud sounded in the distance. The air stopped tearing by his ears, and stopped sucking them in at once. They all fell back, and a chorus of surprised cries rang out. Then another thud.

  As he pushed himself up again, having been halfway between the wall and the floor, Anderson squinted to see what was going on. He could make ou
t sparks, some grey objects darting to-and-fro around where the damage had been. A sheet of metal had been placed over it and was being worked at by some robots.

  "Thank the stars – repair drones," the old woman cried.

  Anderson turned with a look of shock. She was weary and cold, but she managed a bewildered smile.

  "Thank you, young man. Thank you!"

  "Yes," her husband agreed, nodding sharply. "Thank you so very much."

  The old couple embraced tightly. The young guy that had been wrapped around his leg rolled on his back and panted. "Oh, shit. Man...shit...." He coughed so hard he got red as he got to his feet with effort. "Thanks. I'm so sorry. I saw the repair drones. That's why I didn't let go." He engaged the old couple. "I'm so sorry. I wouldn't have endangered you both if I hadn't saw them. Honest."

  "It's okay," said the shivering old woman. "We were all scared."

  Anderson smiled, shaking all over from the cold and the adrenaline. His arms were goose flesh. "I'm glad I could help you,” he said, meaning it.

  A tremor shook them all again, snapping him out of the moment. They were still under heavy attack. Siena and Anderson matched eyes. Then they both raced off toward the hangar bay.

  23

  They got suited up with armour and weapons from the security wing armoury – assault rifles and pulse pistols. Jack missed his X-series sub-repeater, but this assault rifle looked like it was going to pack a Helluva punch.

  They had built a secure perimeter around the docking hatch where the Dok’ra were headed in the central market area of the station.

  As they waited behind a tactical shield they had deployed, Jack and the girls listened to the heavy clunks of the docking hatch being engaged by the Dok’ra shuttle. Sweat trickled his nose as he waited tensely.

  “Jack…we’re gonna make it out of this,” said Claudia.

  He nodded, swallowed, looked her way with sweat descending his chin. A meaningful glare in his eyes. He thought of Brigid, feeling his grip tighten on his weapon.

  “No heroics,” he told them both. “Watch each other’s backs.”

  After a terse wait, the door to the docking hatch opened with a threatening clang. They took aim. But nothing came out…

  Then a blue orb was tossed into the market.

  It sounded with an electric crackle. A bright blue net sprang from the bomb in a growing bubble that made it all the way to the ceiling, shutting off lights as it ascended, and causing some bulbs to blow. Glass sprinkled the floor.

  They were left in complete darkness.

  Dok’ra have great night vision. Jack dropped to one knee behind cover. He yanked on the women at his sides. “Everyone down,” he said.

  Security Officers popped and tossed flares and they lit up the market with a red glow.

  But a dozen guns went off. Bullets sprayed the cover they hid behind and Jack hunkered down, hearing death wails echo from nearby.

  The fire coming their way became less frantic and they heard the Dok’ra roar as they charged.

  “Now! Return fire,” commanded Jack.

  They sprang up as one, firing into the shapes coming through the reddish glow.

  Then they hunkered down again, hearing bullets ping the other side of the tactical shield. Jack took a shock grenade from his pocket. Then he looked to Claudia and she immediately understood what he expected from her.

  She took out the sidewinder pistol she had retrieved from the armoury. It was the same model as her own, but with a modified scope. She changed the gun’s shape and used it to look over the cover from safety, switching the mode to nightvision on her the scope. Located a target.

  “Two o’clock.”

  Jack lobbed it over their cover with the intel provided. After the bang they all shot into the area of the shock-net, finding two Dok’ra caught in the electrifying web surging out. They blitzed until they were both on the floor. Then they returned to cover to reload.

  *

  Siena and Anderson were already on approach for the gathering of fighters locked in combat between the station and the dreadnought. The waves of defence fighters were growing short in number.

  The station's defence cannons were suffering significant losses from targeted fire from batteries, and the station itself had suffered large amounts of damage. There were hull breaches on a dozen decks.

  "Shit, this is bad,” said Siena.

  "Tell me about it! Only one thing to do.”

  Anderson flew while Siena operated the bulk of the fighter’s weaponry. He only controlled his forward repeater.

  “Energy weapons charged,” said Siena, flicking switches behind him.

  “ETA to firing range,” he glanced at his HUD, swallowing, “twelve seconds.”

  “Take a swoop. We’ll punch through and then come around to take a pass at that transport shuttle.”

  “Roger.”

  They shot by a dozen fighters locked in combat. Siena fired pulse beams at a fighter’s aft that was chasing someone on their side. The shields went down after a few seconds of concentrated fire. Then she launched a missile that swirled as it gave chase.

  Anderson pulled left, heart in his mouth, as a fighter shot from underneath them and nearly collided with their nose. If it hadn’t been for his lightning quick reflex-action they would be a floating hunk of debris.

  Biting down in anger, he locked onto the Dok’ra fighter and gave chase. His repeater blazed as he squeezed the trigger, fighting hard to keep the spinning foe in his sights.

  “Missile-lock,” warned Siena, and his HUD flashed red.

  Anderson gave up his chase and took a dive. He spun as they descended. Then flipped them over to surge higher. The missile chased them relentlessly, as they soared through the light-show of laser streams that was making space luminous.

  A friendly targeted the missile and blew it away. Anderson, with a sigh of relief, hurried to wipe the gathering sweat from his forehead.

  A voice broke over the speakers. "Target all fire on enemy armoured transport. We can't afford to let another boarding party disembark on the station."

  Another voice hurried to ask: "Heavy casualties inside?"

  "Copy that."

  "Shit. Everyone on me. Focus pulse beams. We need to take down its shields fast!"

  "Affirmative. Defence agrees – that's the best course of action, over."

  Anderson obeyed the command and flew in formation with a group of friendlies. The top right of his screen flashed. Optimal Range. They opened fired as one. Multiple streams of blue, purple and orange went out together and bombarded the approaching shuttle.

  Enemy shields – offline.

  Siena and all the others launched missiles – they came out in a whirling flurry and shot into the armoured ship. Its strong hull succumbed to their combined attack. The ship became a fireball. Then, a second later, a floating wreckage.

  The cries of triumph that followed over the radio were short lived.

  "More transports detected," warned a station security analyst, providing tactical assistance.

  "This is Lioness – we've got six bogies. Let’s take them down quick and clean like before. We need every ship to make it out of this. Copy?"

  "This is Bruiser," replied a man who sounded almost Scottish. "I don't care what you look like, girlie. You get us out of this, and you'll be the prettiest girl in the galaxies to me."

  "That's good, you can buy me a drink and shower me with compliments after," she said, and even though they were joking there wasn't a trace of humour in their voices.

  Everyone was focused on the task at hand.

  *

  The vicious gunfire rattling the other side of the shield as they hunkered down rang out vulnerability to their ears. That sheet of metal was all that stood between them and death. The Dok’ra were advancing despite how many bullets they put into them, and the station’s security were suffering heavy loses.

  Soon enough, they could flank their position. Or worse, toss frags at them.


  “We’re being overrun! We need to regroup!” cried Jack. “Back to the security wing.”

  Malora and Claudia nodded as one. “Check ammo,” he said, dispensing with his spent magazine. He placed his last clip in place.

  Malora imitated Jack while Claudia checked her current mag. “I’ve got eight rounds.”

  “Make ‘em count.”

  They reversed firing at the Dok’ra taking cover in the stores across the way. Rounds came whizzing by his ears. Jack fought to maintain his cool. He fired short, aimed bursts, and continued to blanket them with fire until both women had made it out of danger.

  Other security personel hurried to join them. But they were mowed down by Dok’ra fire.

  They raced along the corridor and came out at the other end. Jack took the lead, scanning the area with his rifle aimed.

  An urgent cry sounded behind him. “Jack!”

  He spun around. Claudia was in the clutches of what he knew to be an Overseer Agent. She had been waiting for them. She was pushing a gun into Claudia’s temple. Her wrinkled face wet with perspiration.

  “Drop it!” she warned him.

  Jack, swallowing hard, hesitated briefly. Then he shot a look to Malora and had her put down her gun along with him. The second their guns were down, the Agent sharply shot Malora in the chest. She gave a cry on the way down. Then stilled.

  “Malora!” he screamed.

  The gun went back into Claudia’s temple. She squirmed and struggled, but the Agent was much too strong.

  “Claudia Stewart,” she rasped by her ear. “My sister killed you once before. Now…I will kill you again.”

  “Overseer bitch!” cried Claudia.

  “The future versions of Europa’s crew killed the Overseers months ago. I am nothing but a faithful servant. You will tell me where Europa is. With the time-drive, we can undo what you have done, and bring our masters back!”

  “Get that fucking gun off her!” Jack roared.

  “Tell me where Europa is – or I will blow her brains out!”

  Jack didn’t know where Europa was. Even if he had, and told her, she would kill them both anyway. Claudia knew it. She eyed his gun, willed him to do what he was hesitating to do…

  “Where is Eur—“