Rath's Redemption (The Janus Group Book 6)
Page 7
“That sounds dangerous,” Jaymy said, frowning.
“Yeah,” Rath agreed. “That’s why we’re going to find the nearest Interstellar Police station, and I’m going to drop you off for safekeeping.”
“What?” Jaymy said. “No. Rath, I—”
“No arguments this time,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have let you stay on the Guardian in the first place. And I’m not going to let you get hurt now.”
“Maybe I could help,” Jaymy said.
“No,” Rath said, with finality. “I’ll be better off on my own.”
Jaymy closed her mouth, frowning. Rath studied the dials and buttons in front of him, leaning over to look at the controls in front of Jaymy, too.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. You’re at the driver’s station,” he told her. “Just like a motorcycle – have you ridden a motorcycle?”
“No,” she said.
“Bicycle?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“Okay, same concept – hold the handlebars, turn right to go right, left to go left. Twist the grip in your right hand to accelerate. Brake pedal’s on the floor.”
“Okay,” Jaymy agreed, hesitantly.
“You’ll get it, don’t worry,” Rath reassured her. He flipped on a small viewscreen in front of him, and an exterior view appeared, with a set of aiming crosshairs. Rath zoomed out, and saw the crews of the three other vehicles, heading out of the picture, back toward the burning flagship.
“Okay, try backing up,” he told Jaymy.
She gripped the yoke and set the tank in reverse, then twisted the handle slightly. The tank rolled back several feet.
“Good,” Rath said. “Keep going back.” He flipped several switches in front of him, and the tank’s main gun lifted on its hydraulic mount. An automatic loader slid a round into the gun tube.
“What are you doing?” Jaymy asked.
“Target practice,” Rath said. He found a helmet at his station and handed it to Jaymy. “Put this on, it’s about to get loud in here.”
On Rath’s targeting computer, he could see two armored jeeps and a tank, all parked, abandoned, in the grassy field in front of the burning ship. Rath took hold of the joystick at his station, and lined up the crosshairs over one of the jeeps. He pulled the trigger, and the gun roared, bucking backwards in the compartment below them. On the screen, the jeep exploded in a spray of sparks and fire, the force of the blast knocking it over. Rath checked that the gun had reloaded, and then destroyed the other jeep, and then the tank, in quick succession.
He stuck his head out of the turret, surveying the wreckage. Farther away across the field, the vehicles’ former crewmembers had stopped running back toward the ship. They stood in a befuddled group, watching him on the tank. Rath slewed the turret around to point at them, and they took the hint, and scattered.
On his heads-up display, Rath called up a map of Tarkis, and then overlaid IP station locations. He sat back down next to Jaymy.
“Head that way,” he said, pointing. “Let’s get you to safety.”
* * *
Jaymy steered the tank through a wide turn, weaving around several air cars that had been abandoned in the street.
“Definitely looks like they issued some kind of emergency alert,” Rath observed. “We still haven’t seen a single civilian out and about.”
“Who – the Jokuans, or the Tarkis government?” Jaymy asked.
“Either,” Rath said, shrugging. “Looks like everyone holed up inside, trying to stay out of the way of the Jokuans. Turn left here.”
Jaymy turned the yoke, and the tank pulled onto a new street, treads rattling over the tarmac. “I’m getting the hang of this!”
“Yeah, you are,” Rath agreed, smiling. “There it is – pull up on the right.”
The tank came to a stop outside a large, steel and glass building with the IP logo mounted over the entranceway. Several police cruisers were parked along the sidewalk, but the street was empty, just like all of the others they had traveled along – Rath saw no pedestrians, either civilians or cops. He switched his face to a neutral cover identity, and then they climbed down off the tank.
The door to the station slid open as they approached, but inside, it was eerily quiet, and no patrolman stood at the security gate.
“Hello?” Rath called. His voice echoed down the corridor on the far side of the security gate.
“Maybe they got scared when they saw our tank,” Jaymy suggested.
Rath walked around behind the reception desk, where he found a computer monitor showing security camera footage of the reception area. He tapped on the keyboard experimentally, and the view shifted, showing an empty parking garage, and then a briefing room, and several floors of desks, all empty.
“They’re gone,” Rath said, straightening up. “The station’s been abandoned.”
Jaymy gave him a lopsided grin. “Looks like you’re stuck with me for a while longer.”
Rath grunted, nonplussed. His eye fell on a metal container lying on the counter-top.
“You think they’re all hiding?” Jaymy asked.
“No,” Rath said, picking up the metal object. It was an auto-rifle magazine, he saw – partially loaded. “No … they’re fighting back.”
12
The transport shuddered, and the cockpit’s forward viewport flashed a proximity notification. Paisen, sitting in the navigator’s seat behind the two pilots, heard the engines throttle down as the ship exited FTL travel. Then the viewscreen flickered, and an external view appeared. She gave a low whistle.
“My god,” Beauceron said, standing next to her.
“That looks like the entire fleet,” Paisen said.
Ahead of them, dark shapes dotted the bright blue atmosphere of Tarkis, like moths hovering over a lamp. Paisen ran a quick counting program in her heads-up display, tallying the ships.
“There are a handful of ships on the surface still,” she said. “But it looks like Yo-Tsai’s got the majority of the fleet back in orbit, in a defensive posture.”
“Any sign of the Rampart Guardian?” Beauceron asked.
Paisen shook her head. “We’ll find it, though.”
“We’re being hailed,” the pilot reported.
“Good luck,” Beauceron said, patting Paisen on the shoulder. He slipped out of the cockpit, closing the door behind him. Paisen faced the viewscreen and took a deep breath.
“I’m ready,” she told the pilot. Her voice dropped lower to match the male face she wore.
A Jokuan naval officer appeared on the screen.
The naval officer glanced down at a datascroll.
Paisen sighed.
The naval officer frowned.
Paisen said.
On the screen, she saw the officer stiffen.
The officer wavered for a moment, and then came to a decision.
They were docked at the planet’s transfer station less than a minute later. Paisen and Vence exited the docki
ng tube, emerging onto the station. The boarding area was curiously empty – their footsteps echoed on the smooth tiles.
“They probably moved all the civilians that were here to a central location,” Vence observed. “The hotel near the hub, or a food court, or something.”
The two women hurried back up the tube into the transport. In the ship’s lounge, Atalia stood conversing with the captain of the IP tactical team from Anchorpoint. The rest of his team had been unable to fit in the ship’s small lounge – the fifteen heavily-armed officers had made the trip in the ship’s hold, where the deactivated high energy device still sat. Beauceron and Dasi stood off to one side, waiting.
“The boarding area’s clear,” Paisen told them. “No civilians or Jokuans.”
“Okay, good,” Atalia said. “I was worried they would send someone to greet us.”
Paisen handed Atalia a bandolier of grenades. “EMP grenades,” she explained.
“The guildsman’s best friend?” Atalia asked, eyeing them warily.
Paisen nodded. “Set one off before you leave the transport, then keep setting them off every three minutes until you find a spot to hide your team. You can use them again when it’s time to assault the station’s control center.”
Atalia took the bandolier. “They won’t see us coming?” she asked.
“They won’t,” Paisen agreed.
“But if they’re watching security footage closely, they’ll see a bunch of cameras malfunctioning all in a row … they may figure out that something’s up,” Beauceron put in, as Paisen handed him his own bandolier of grenades. “So be careful.”
“You too,” Atalia replied. “We’ll be waiting for your signal.”
“As soon as we have control of the spaceport, I’ll call,” Beauceron assured her.
“I won’t let him forget,” Dasi said, smiling nervously.
“Be careful,” Beauceron told Atalia.
She rolled her eyes at him. “You said that already.” She turned to the tactical team commander. “Are you ready, Captain?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll go get the team.” He turned and headed for the cargo hold, and returned a moment later with the other officers in tow. Paisen stepped back to let the tactical team past – they filed through the crowded lounge, toward the docking tube. Atalia gave Beauceron a quick hug, then pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t say it.”
He smiled. “See you in a couple days.”
“Yeah,” Atalia agreed, stepping back. “We’ll all get a beer together on Tarkis.”
“Paisen’s buying,” Beauceron said, grinning. “She can afford it.”
Paisen snorted. “We sent you your share, Martin. It’s not my fault you gave it all away.”
Atalia smiled, gave Beauceron one last look, and then turned and disappeared down the docking tube.
Vence shouldered her Forge, and picked up a large duffle bag full of gear. “You ready?” she asked Paisen.
“Yeah. Martin, give us about five minutes to suit up and let ourselves out the aft airlock. Then you and Dasi can make your descent to the surface.”
“Will you keep us posted on your progress?” Beauceron asked her.
“No,” Paisen said, shaking her head. “We’ll be monitoring your radio net, and talking to each other with short-range comms, but the minute we transmit anything long distance, we give away our position. We’re on radio silence until the Rampart Guardian is out of the equation.”
“Okay,” he said. “Remember, Rath might still be on the Guardian.”
“Let’s hope we don’t have to blow it up, then,” Paisen observed. “We’ll keep our eyes open.”
“Good luck,” Dasi told them.
“You too,” Paisen replied.
The four of them shook hands, and then Paisen followed Vence into the cargo hold, leaving Beauceron and Dasi to rejoin the pilots in the cockpit.
Vence dropped her duffle bag outside the inner airlock hatch and unzipped it, pulling out a matte-gray, radar-absorbing spacesuit, with matching helmet and deep-space maneuvering pack. Paisen did the same. The two women worked in silence for several minutes, assisting each other as they pulled on the bulky equipment. Finally, Paisen sealed Vence’s helmet in place, and then stood still while Vence did the same for her.
“Radio check,” Paisen said.
“Loud and clear,” Vence replied.
Paisen nodded. The two women slung sub-machine guns across their chests, pulled on their Forges, and then stepped inside the inner airlock, sealing the hatch shut behind them. A moment later, the airlock depressurized, and the outer door slid open, revealing the inky blackness of space.
13
Major Shinzo-Lee took cover behind a tree trunk, breathing hard. He risked a glance back at the airfield, but much of the field was obscured by a heavy cloud of smoke, billowing out of burning vehicles.
A full battalion, shattered in minutes. Four years of campaigning against the rebels here on Jokuan, he thought. And not once have I seen anything like this.
He shook his head angrily, and then caught sight of a knot of soldiers deeper in the trees. He hurried over to them. A sergeant major knelt on the ground, conferring with a lieutenant and two staff sergeants over a rough sketch in the dirt. The sergeant major spotted Shinzo-Lee and beckoned for him to join them.
“What’s the situation, Sergeant Major?” Shinzo-Lee asked.
“I’ve rallied what’s left of the battalion, sir,” he reported. “A bunch of the soldiers are unaccounted for – I think they ran. But we’ve got about a company’s worth. The colonel’s dead. I think that leaves you in command, sir.”
“Vehicles?” Shinzo-Lee asked.
The sergeant major shook his head.
“Do you know who attacked us, sir?” the lieutenant asked.
“It has to be the spies, sir,” one of the staff sergeants commented. “Who else could it be?”
Shinzo-Lee nodded. “I think it’s the guildsmen that escaped. What’s the plan?”
“We’ve established a base of fire at the tree line, here,” the sergeant major said, pointing to a line in the dirt. “They’ll suppress the enemy position, while we maneuver around the outside of the airfield with the other half of the battalion. Then we’ll lift fire, and try to take them in the flank.”
“Sergeant Major!” A young corporal appeared suddenly, holding his rifle in one hand. “They’re falling back!” He pointed at the airfield. Through the smoke and haze, Shinzo-Lee could just make out several camouflaged forms disappearing deeper into the trees on the far side of the field. “We’ve got them on the run!” the corporal concluded.
“Excellent,” Shinzo-Lee noted. “Sergeant Major, gather your troops – we’re going after them.”
“All of the troops?” the sergeant major asked, warily.
“Of course. If we stand here and argue about it, Sergeant Major, there will be no one to pursue. And General Yo-Tsai will be asking you why you let the spies escape … again.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant major said, relenting.
It took them two minutes to gather the soldiers, and then the remnants of the battalion crossed the field in a loose skirmish line. When no one fired on them as they emerged from the cover of the burning vehicles, they gained confidence, and began to jog, eager to catch their tormenters. In the center of the line, Major Shinzo-Lee urged them onward.
The Jokuans slowed when they reached the trees, stopping briefly to inspect several abandoned mortar tubes. Then, at Shinzo-Lee’s insistence, they pressed forward again. A shout told him that the guildsmen had been sighted again – ahead, disappearing farther into the woods. The skirmish line continued forward.
Shinzo-Lee found the sergeant major at his elbow a moment later.
“Sir,” the sergeant major whispered. “I don’t like this, sir.”
“It’s a simple movement to contact, Sergeant Major,” Shinzo-Lee told him, shortly. “And we outnumber them ten to one.”
Off to the
ir right, a rifle cracked. “There’s another one! They’re running!”
The major caught a glimpse of movement ahead, and hurried forward, pressing his own rifle to his shoulder. He stopped next to a tree, squinting down the rifle’s barrel.
He could see one of them now, about a hundred meters ahead: a man of medium height, wearing a pack and carrying a rifle. As he watched, the camouflaged figure stepped out from behind a tree. Shinzo-Lee fired, along with another soldier to his left, but the bullets had no effect on the man, seemingly passing straight through him. Then the figure simply disappeared.
“What …?”
He heard a whispered hiss from the other soldier. “A hologram!”
Shinzo-Lee felt an icy chill run down his back. He turned, and found the sergeant major kneeling, inspecting something on the ground. As he watched, the sergeant major lifted his hand, and Shinzo-Lee could see he was holding a fine, wire mesh. Shinzo-Lee bent over to look more closely, and realized that the netting lay everywhere beneath his feet, barely visible but carpeting the entire forest floor.
The sergeant major turned and took several steps back toward the airfield, studying the ground. “It stops here.” He stepped off of the wire, and slung his rifle.
“What is it?” Shinzo-Lee asked.
The sergeant major shook his head, frowning. Then his eyes went wide, and he looked up at Shinzo-Lee. “Lightning mine.”
With a deep, loud buzzing, the mine activated. High voltage electricity rippled across the wire mesh, arcing up through the soldiers caught on top of the netting. The sergeant major jumped backward, away from the wire. He saw Shinzo-Lee’s body go stiff, and a blue-white bolt of electricity arced from the ground to the tip of his rifle with a loud pop. Then the officer toppled over, dead.
The sergeant major dashed through the trees to his left, following the edge of the netting. He counted twenty more bodies before he found a group of three soldiers who had not yet reached the mine.
“Fall back!” the sergeant major barked at them. “Get back to the airfield, now!”
They turned to run, but at that moment a machine gun opened up – two soldiers fell under the first fusillade, as the rest took cover.