by Evan Currie
We’ll just have to see how he likes directing a fight from the rear, I suppose, she thought with dark amusement.
“Colonel! Sergeant!”
Both turned to see a corporal running in their direction, which struck them as odd because signalling them over the battle network was quicker.
“Calm down, Corporal,” Conner ordered firmly. “What is it?”
“Signal over the Primmy ship network,” the corporal gasped out. “The bridge is under siege.”
“Shit,” the sergeant swore, starting toward the other Marines.
Conner put a hand on his shoulder, restraining him with the full force of her armor against his. “Sergeant, calm yourself and remember protocol. Redeploy our forces to center on the ship’s bridge, but remain in an advisory role on this one. Your armor is in no shape to take the fight to the enemy.”
She could see hesitation and momentary indecision in his body language, even in his armor, but he nodded a couple of seconds later.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Then see to it,” she ordered. “We have allies waiting for the Confederation Marines. Let’s not be late.”
► “Deck’s sealed, Corporal,” Ramirez said, shaking his head. “Hard vacuum on the other side.”
“Shit,” Rider swore, looking around as he put the overlay of the Tetanna’s construction over his HUD, the wireframe of the ship systems appearing in blue, white, red, and yellow as he looked. “Okay, I didn’t want to do it this way, but we’ll take the power relay access points. That should get us two decks over and bypass the damaged section.”
I hope.
The Priminae design for starships was about as straightforward as a lawyer’s preferred language, but he was pretty sure he had figured it out. The ship was the same as a Heroic, given that they’d been built in the same shipyard from the same basic plans, so unless the crew had made some significant changes over what he’d studied on the Odysseus, he thought he was right.
The team got the access panel popped off the bulkhead and squeezed into the interior section where all the power relays were run. Every cruiser had thousands of miles of relays, and they all had to be serviced to keep them running properly. They went everywhere on board—literally everywhere—so if you knew how to navigate the maintenance corridors, which were practically an entire second ship, you could move wherever you wanted, unseen in the normal corridors.
The corridors were, however, just a tad tight for a squad of Marines in armor.
“Don’t break anything,” he growled as he pressed himself as flat as he could and started inching past power relays that were carrying enough energy to turn most of his armor to rapidly expanding molecules.
What that same energy would do to him wasn’t something he wanted to think about. There was a reason the access sections were engineers’ country, and only fools or Marines would think of using them as a shortcut.
It was painstaking work, but the four Marines made their way across the decks, up and over the evacuated corridor, until they finally got to where Rider was hoping they’d find a relatively undamaged corridor from which they could continue on mission.
“I’ve got atmo on the other side,” Dow confirmed from where he was kneeling.
“Okay, pop it.”
► The panel dropping from the ceiling startled the Imperial troops, who rattled on the deck as they spun around looking for the source. It took precious seconds before they realized that the panel had come from above and a pair of already smoking canisters had dropped from the new hole in the ceiling. As the corridor began to fill with glittering thick white smoke, a blur of a form dropped from the hole and landed with an unsubtle thump.
The troopers brought up their infantry lasers in response, the shadow in the smoke rolling to the right just as another form dropped to the deck and rolled left.
The Imperials opened fire first, laser flash blinding everyone as the beams refracted off the cloud and scattered energy in all directions just as the roar of magnetic-accelerated rounds breaking the speed of sound rent the air asunder. Another ripping sound joined with the first as Marine-issue M-45 assault carbines started putting depleted uranium downrange, shredding Imperial armor with the same ease as they would the light armored vehicles they were developed to counter.
The last body hit the ground as the fourth, and last, Marine dropped from the ceiling in a crouch and looked carefully around before straightening up.
The four walked out of the smoke, the glittering vapor sticking to them as they moved and curling around in drifting patterns behind them.
Rider checked the status of his squad’s armor, noting that the two “door kickers” were running hot. The smoke had kept the lasers from being lethal, but all that energy still had to go somewhere, and a fair chunk made it into the intended targets all the same.
“Ram, Dow, you two hold back until your armor cools down,” he ordered. “I’ve got point. Kensey, take up the drag position.”
The four rearranged their positions without further discussion as Rider walked over to the closest body. He nudged the dead man over with his boot and kicked the laser rifle away from his grip. He then dropped to a crouch to check the gear strapped to the armor, and pulled the Imperial’s laser sidearm from its holster and slipped it into his own gear.
“You know they’ll never let you keep that, especially when you transfer Earth-side,” Ramirez said.
“Word is there’re going to be other options pretty soon. I was thinking of applying for a spot on a colony. They’re going to want people with military experience just as much as they’ll want doctors and engineers.”
“Oh yeah? I thought those were just rumors,” Ram said as they moved up the corridor, pausing to clear the corners before continuing on. “Seems like they don’t have enough ships as is. Who’s going to fly people out to the colony worlds?”
Rider nodded. “Government doesn’t have enough, but private concerns are also getting in on the act. It’s not a problem of a lack of resources; it’s more a lack of time and facilities to build military spec hulls. Colony programs don’t need those. They can use the old infrastructure—what’s left of it after the invasion anyway. Don’t forget, once the fleet stops production on Rogues, all those slips are going to be obsolete, Ram. For military purposes, at least.”
“Damn,” Ramirez said. “Didn’t think of that.”
“Most people don’t. If we can come through this war without getting the planet nuked, or worse—again . . . there are interesting times coming,” Rider answered, coming to a stop and holding up his hand. “Hang on. I think we’re here.”
► Conner could feel her NCO’s frustration radiate from him without even looking at the man, and she was almost unable to hide her amusement.
“You don’t need to be so damn happy about this, Colonel,” the sergeant grumbled.
Alright, apparently she was completely unable to hide her amusement.
“Just like to see my men get a taste for my frustrations once in a while, Sergeant,” she told him as they watched the Marines move into position.
The bridge was under siege, but the enemy was underpowered for the job. That wasn’t making her feel any better about the situation, because it meant the enemy had likely shifted their numbers to a more important objective. Since engineering was now secure, Conner had a sinking feeling that she knew precisely what their objective was.
“If you don’t like watching other people work for a living, you shouldn’t have become an officer, ma’am,” the sergeant told her blithely.
He was probably trying to draw a bit of irritation out of her, but if that was his goal, he needed to get up a lot earlier in the morning. She’d heard all the standard jokes about working for a living long before she even joined the Corps. It wasn’t even the first time someone had told her as much to her face.
It might be the first time she let that person get away with it, however.
And there was a certain value to letting him get away with it
. Conner suspected that the sergeant would prefer having a strip ripped out of his hide to being forced to stand back and watch his men execute an operation without him.
“Keep your mind on the op, Sergeant,” she told him with a smug tone. “The men are counting on you, after all.”
That effectively ended the conversation, probably more because the forward element of the Marine squads was in position and the operation was about to kick off.
He focused on the men as the last of them slipped into position and reported that they were ready to move.
“Execute,” the sergeant ordered after a confirming glance at Conner.
► Sweat beaded on Drey’s forehead, the heat from the laser fire having built up enough around him to raise the temperature on the command deck to uncomfortable levels. Nevertheless, he fired a return beam back out the door even as another laser flash left an afterimage on his retina and a flash burn seared the side of his face. He wasn’t hit—he’d never have felt that—but something close had just absorbed a lot of energy and was radiating in his direction.
Drey ducked back and shifted away, glancing over to see a console—or what was left of it—smoking from the enemy laser destruction. The remains of his navigation officer were charred and smoking behind the ruins of the machinery.
He grimaced and popped up again to return fire through the door and almost threw himself to the ground as a round of thunder rent the air asunder and flashes completely unlike the laser afterimages blinded him. Drey slumped down, wiping at his eyes and blinking furiously as he looked around, trying to get his bearings.
“What was that?”
He could hear the call from his second, but couldn’t see the other man.
“I do not know,” he admitted. “Can you see?”
“Barely. I think I’m bleeding from my ears,” the Tetanna’s second in command grumbled.
The distant thunder was still shaking the air as Drey’s vision returned to him, and he risked another look over his console, now the only cover he had from enemy fire.
No more laser flashes came into the deck, making him hesitant to fire since he had no idea what was going on.
The thunder fell quiet, and he lifted his weapon again, pointing it unsteadily at the doors when a shadow moved against the smoke now slowly drifting in.
“Hello the bridge!” a voice called, louder than he would have expected. “We’re Marines from the Odysseus! Anyone alive in there?”
Drey blinked in surprise and saw similar looks on the faces around him.
He was almost hesitant to respond, afraid of a trick, but there was nothing else he could do.
“We are alive,” he called. Most of us.
“I’m coming in, slowly, with my weapon slung. Don’t shoot.”
Drey swallowed. “Slowly!”
There was a bit of a scraping sound he could barely hear, then a shuffling as a big figure in environmental armor stepped into the open doorway with hands up and in plain sight. Drey recognized the armor from briefings and knew that it was Terran, so he got to his feet.
“Captain?” The armored man looked in his direction.
“That is correct,” Drey responded. “I suppose we should thank you for your assistance.”
He couldn’t help but look around at the devastation and loss of life, even there in the most secure section of the ship, and didn’t want to imagine what the rest of the Tetanna looked like.
“Yeah, well, I think we can let that remain unsaid,” the man in armor said. “The colonel is coming in, sir. She’ll brief you on the current situation as best we know it.”
Drey nodded slowly, letting his weapon drop until it was pointed at the deck. With his free hand, he wiped the sweat from his burned face, then tried pointlessly to dry it off on his sweat-soaked uniform tunic as another figure appeared and strode in with a purposeful gait.
“Don’t bother,” the woman told him as he tried again to dry his hand. “Even if I weren’t in armor, a little sweat is the last thing I’d worry about, Captain. Are you and yours okay?”
Drey looked around. “Those of us still breathing will likely continue to do so—Colonel, was it? I suppose that is the best one might expect.”
“Often is after combat,” the woman agreed. “I’ve called for corpsmen to get your wounded out of here. The heat is . . .”
She shook her head as he nodded in agreement.
“Environmental systems are clearly down on this deck,” Drey said. “I don’t know how bad the situation is across the ship. Most of our systems were destroyed in the fighting here, so I cannot check.”
“Damn. I was hoping you’d be able to tell me about the library core.”
Drey looked at her intently. “Why that specifically, Colonel?”
“We secured engineering, and now here, but the bulk of the enemy forces seem to be elsewhere on this level. I was checking the facilities list, and that stood out.”
“There is too much information there for them to remove with any portable system,” Drey said, holstering his sidearm. “If they have gone for the library core as you believe, then they have specific information in mind. We need to get to a command access station.”
He turned and his eyes fell on the smoking ruin of the command deck console.
“Elsewhere,” Drey finished with a sigh. “You have engineering secured?”
“We do,” the woman said.
“Good; we will go there. It’s the closest, and I want to see the status of my ship.”
“Marines!” the woman snapped. “Escort the captain to engineering. I’ll see to the evacuations here and join you shortly.”
“Oorah, ma’am!”
CHAPTER 16
► Eric looked at the telemetry plot, his mind running to the possibilities that the tracks left for the immediate future. There were only so many of them, but with almost infinite variation lying between each.
The enemy fleet was on a course to withdraw from the battle, if not the system, but they were closing with the damaged Priminae cruiser. Presumably, they intended to recover the troops they dispatched to the stricken vessel, but given his previous interactions with the Imperials, Eric wasn’t prepared to make any assumptions in their favor.
“Press the acceleration, Commander,” he ordered Stephanos. “Redline it if you have to, but don’t let them get comfortable. I want the Imperials looking over their shoulder every light-second until they’re well clear of that ship.”
“Aye aye, Raze,” Stephanos said, deep in the mental fugue that piloting via NICS required. “Increasing acceleration by two points.”
It was probably his imagination, but Eric thought that he could feel more than hear the distant tremor of the Odysseus’ reactors responding to the demand. A red icon lit on his panel, but Eric ignored the signal. He had expected it earlier, the warning that the reactors were in the redline. He would be looking at a major refit the next time he put the Odysseus in for repairs.
Not like there was any doubt about that at this point, he thought.
The Odysseus spewed atmosphere from almost every deck despite the efforts of the damage control teams. Depending on how the fight went from this point, the hull might be scrapped and the cores repurposed to another ship. He didn’t know what had caused the malfunction that threw them into the fight alone, but Eric cursed the waste it had caused, both in lives and material.
The lights dimming briefly made him look up and around, frowning. Then the lights returned to normal.
“Engineering,” he signalled on the comm. “What’s going on with the power?”
The chief was on the comm almost before he finished talking. “Don’t know, Captain. We’re trying to track fluctuations, but they’re showing up in odd areas without any apparent cause. As bad as they burned us, we’re not showing any problems in the power relays, so I can’t figure out why.”
“This damn malfunction again,” Eric growled.
“Maybe. No way to tell, sir. It’s possible, probable even
, that we took a hit that caused damage we haven’t pinned down yet.”
“Just find it. We’re still in a fight here, Chief. I need this ship in fighting trim, or we’ll all be sucking vacuum before this is over.”
“We’ll keep her fighting, Skipper. You have my guarantee on that.”
“I know you will, Chief. Weston out.”
The comm was cut as he looked back to the telemetry and kept a mental tally of the converging numbers. The Bell and the Bo were leading their Rogues in on a reciprocal course, while the Odysseus had been joined by the Priminae task group. Both groups were within the optimal engagement range of the enemy squadron, but the Imperials had arrayed their rear drives to interpose their space-time bulges between them and the Allied guns.
Getting a strike through the space-time warp of a ship drive on full power required accurate knowledge of the warp or a lot of luck. Lasers would be attenuated by many things, including the short wavelength of a ship’s gravity generation. Even at close range, anything less than a perfect shot would barely heat the enemy hulls.
Fortunately, the Imperials were dealing with the same problem. While they knew their own warps well enough to put accurate shots through, they would have to be able to calculate the correct deflection through the Allied ship’s space-time sinks. Unlike the bulges at the aft of the vessel, a sink was effectively a miniature black hole. Light that entered the event horizon of the sink would, at the very least, be scattered to the universe, assuming it came out at all.
So for the moment, the two forces were in a standoff despite the occasional opening that crews from both groups would take advantage of as they could.
Eric could risk firing with t-cannons or HVMs, perhaps, but the odds against solid hits were still high, and they’d risk potting the Priminae cruiser at the same time. Not a big risk, but it would continue to grow until the Imperials overtook and passed the stricken ship, and Eric didn’t think that the vessel could take much more, from the looks of it.
No, for the moment he was going to have to be satisfied with putting on the pressure and keeping the enemy from getting too comfortable.
