Atlantia Series 3: Aggressor

by Dean Crawford

  Andaim turned to Lael. ‘Have they responded to our hail?’

  ‘Negative, captain!’ Lael replied. ‘No transmissions at all since they arrived!’

  Andaim looked at the cruiser and saw it trying to turn to bring its weapons to bear on the faster-moving frigate.

  ‘Why the hell are they attacking us?’ he asked out loud. ‘We made our peace with Ty’ek’s crew before they left us.’

  Before anybody could reply, Mikhain’s voice rang out

  ‘They’re launching more craft! I’ve got four Veng’en Raider assault vehicles, all aiming for the surface!’

  Andaim spotted the new contacts splitting away from the cruiser and turning for the planet below them.

  ‘What the hell are they doing? Interceptors, engage and destroy!’

  ‘We can’t spare the Raythons, they’re fully engaged!’ Mikhain replied. ‘If they turn away from battle they’ll be pursued and shot down, you know this!’

  ‘Send the Atlantia guard fighters instead!’

  ‘We’ll have no close-support!’ Mikhain argued.

  ‘I know damn well we won’t!’ Andaim yelled back. ‘Send them in, now!’

  The XO relayed the order and the four Raythons immediately broke away from Atlantia and raced to intercept the four Veng’en assault craft.

  ‘How long until our weapons come to bear?’ Andaim asked.

  Mikhain scanned his display panel. ‘Thirty seconds, maximum.’

  ‘Can we break through their jamming and take control of the Arcadia?’ Andaim asked Lael.

  ‘The signals from Arcadia are too weak and the Veng’en jamming too strong,’ Lael replied. ‘They’re on their own down there.’

  Andaim looked at a secondary display on the bridge, several of Atlantia’s optical sensors still trained on Arcadia and bearing witness to the battle raging below on the surface.

  ‘Reaper Three, splash one!’

  The call came out over the communications link, and Andaim saw one of the Veng’en Raiders explode as two Raythons hammered it with plasma shots.

  ‘There are too many,’ Mikhain said. ‘They’re getting through!’

  Andaim saw two of the Raiders flare bright orange and red as they plunged into Chiron IV’s atmosphere, little finesse required for their tactical descent and the less heavily-shielded Raythons unable to follow them at such velocity.

  Andaim turned and looked at the Veng’en cruiser, his eye judging the rate at which the two massive ships were closing on each other.

  ‘Hit them with everything we’ve got!’ Andaim shouted. ‘Ignore the Scythe fighters and disable the cruiser’s bridge and sensor array! We’ve got to stop that jamming!’

  ‘Aye captain!’ Mikhain replied.

  ‘XO, you have the bridge!’ Andaim snapped.

  Several heads looked up at the CAG in surprise.

  ‘The captain’s orders were that you held the command,’ Lael reminded him.

  ‘That was before the Veng’en ambush!’ Andaim snapped back. ‘We need every single Raython out there, right now, or this is all over!’

  Andaim turned to Mikhain, the Executive Officer standing resolute but with shadows of uncertainty, or perhaps conflicting courses of action, passing behind his eyes.

  ‘Captain’s orders were explicit. No bombardment unless no other option remained, understood?’

  Mikhain stared at Andaim for a long moment before he replied. ‘Aye, understood.’

  ‘You have command!’ Andaim called as he turned and dashed off the Atlantia’s bridge.

  Mikhain watched him go and then realised that the entire command crew were watching him intently.

  ‘You heard the captain! Target the cruiser’s sensor arrays!’

  ***

  XXXIV

  ‘Covering fire!’

  General Ibrahim Bra’hiv hunkered down behind an abandoned chunk of welded steel and fired twice upon a pair of pirates advancing upon his position. The first blast smashed the rifle from the hands of one of the pirates in a cloud of sprayed plasma and burning clothes and flesh. The pirate collapsed screaming to his knees as the second man narrowly avoided Bra’hiv’s second shot and fled out of sight.

  The Arcadia’s bow was high overhead, a fine drizzle gusting down from low scudding clouds above as Bra’hiv’s Marines tumbled into cover around him, firing as they went. High on the scaffolding Ogrin were marching up and down, cajoling the slaves back to work even as a battle raged beneath them and turbulent storm clouds rumbled overhead. Beams of bright sunshine burst through the turbulent firmament above, illuminating the falling drizzle in bright rainbow bands of light.

  ‘There are too many!’ Lieutenant C’rairn shouted across the compound as he crouched behind scattered debris amid the rippling grasses. ‘We need to get weapons into the hands of the slaves!’

  The pirates had fled as one, taking cover around or near their ships, but as they realised that they outnumbered the assaulting Marines two-to-one so their flight had ceased and they had begun to reform and fight back. A barrage of plasma fire rained down upon the general’s position as he tried to locate Qayin’s Marines.

  ‘Where the hell is Qayin?’ C’rairn yelled above the din.

  Bra’hiv thought about falling back once more on Taron Forge’s freighter, Phoenix, parked nearby, but then he spotted the smuggler and his co-pilot beating a hasty retreat toward it. Both were armed and both were being largely ignored by the other pirates firing on Bra’hiv’s Marines, and that meant their only escape from the planet’s surface was being swiftly cut off.

  The general pressed one hand over his ear to shield it from the deafening blasts of plasma fire as he called out on an open channel.

  ‘Sergeant Qayin, report in!’

  A burst of static replied and Bra’hiv looked up and around again, seeking a glimpse of blue and gold.

  ‘Sergeant Qayin, respond!’

  ‘We’re pinned down!’ Lieutenant C’rairn shouted.

  Bra’hiv looked up and saw the pirates advancing on the Marine’s position beneath the Arcadia’s bow, the weight of their fire too heavy for the Marines to move position. Bra’hiv braced himself. When facing superior firepower from a numerically superior enemy, there was no longer any tactical way to win the fight. All that remained was the psychological battle to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

  ‘All hands!’ Bra’hiv yelled. ‘Prepare to advance!’

  The Marines took up ready positions as they fired, some of them affixing bayonets in preparation for the suicidal charge.

  The pirates would be aware that they were outgunning the Marines, and their blood would be up after the unexpected assault. Friends would have been killed, perhaps they would be themselves injured and in pain, keen for revenge. Advancing now on the Marine’s position, there was only one thing to stop them, and that was for the soldiers to do the last thing that the pirates would be expecting from a defeated enemy: an advance and attack.

  ‘Ready?!’ Bra’hiv shouted. ‘Now!’

  The Marines leaped up as one and charged, just as a blaze of plasma fire raced over their heads and ploughed into the advancing pirates. Bra’hiv blinked as he saw them cut down one after another, their advance faltering and stalling as their ranks collapsed into disarray.

  Bra’hiv turned and saw Qayin high on the scaffolding behind them, surrounded by not just Marines but dozens of slaves, now armed with plasma rifles that showered down covering fire from their elevated positions.

  ‘I’ll be damned,’ Bra’hiv smiled as he called out to his men. ‘Take cover! Let’s finish this!’

  The Marines broke off their mass charge and repositioned themselves in cover as ahead the pirates fell back en masse. Bra’hiv huddled down and produced two plasma-grenades from his webbing, set the impact fuses and then lobbed them in amongst the fleeing pirates.

  A double-blast thumped the air and Bra’hiv saw several pirates tumble and fall, their bodies aflame with super-heated plasma as they screamed and thrashed
. Behind them, Bra’hiv saw Marines tumbling from the throne complex and firing as they went, catching the now-beleaguered pirates in a lethal crossfire.

  The Marines began advancing toward the pirate’s craft, but Bra’hiv called them back as he recalled their primary mission.

  ‘Stand to! We need Arcadia!’

  The Marines turned, falling back toward their general’s position with Evelyn and others in tow as Bra’hiv looked about him.

  ‘Where’s the captain?’

  As the bulk of Salim’s pirates fled from view and the gunfire suddenly ceased, Idris Sansin emerged from cover and strode toward the general.

  ‘About time,’ he called.

  General Bra’hiv saluted and for once his wide jaw split with a smile. ‘Been waiting for you, captain. Arcadia is ours.’

  Idris’s smile faded as he looked at the frigate.

  ‘Not yet it isn’t,’ he replied.

  Salim Phaeon stood upon Arcadia’s boarding ramp with his mirrored blade in one hand and a plasma pistol in the other, several of his pirates arrayed around him beneath the huge frigate as they held the line before him.

  The Marines advanced down toward the frigate, General Bra’hiv at their head and Idris Sansin close behind. All around them the slaves were descending down from the scaffolding, armed with pistols, rifles and even welding torches distributed by Qayin and his men, angry glares directed at Salim and his fellow pirates.

  Bra’hiv saw Evelyn, her pistol aimed at the pirates and a thin gown barely covering her body, joined by numerous captives as they moved among the Marines. Idris, unarmed, moved to the front of the crowd and pointed at Salim. His voice was loud enough to be heard above the sound of fleeing pirates boarding their craft and taking off in the distance.

  ‘It’s over,’ he called, his voice echoing off the frigate’s gigantic hull. ‘Stand your men down and hand the Arcadia over or she’ll be blown apart as soon as she reaches orbit.’

  ‘I’d sooner die here than surrender to you, Sansin!’ Salim shouted.

  Bra’hiv spotted several Ogrin among the liberated slaves, no longer controlling them but being led by manacles draped over their necks like leashes. Dim they might have been, but Bra’hiv realised that they knew when then game was up. Deprived of firm leadership, they lost their obedience and became docile and quiet, especially in the face of hundreds of armed slaves.

  ‘I can arrange that,’ Idris replied. ‘But if you stand down at least you and your men will get out of here alive. Take off, and you’re going up against a fully armed frigate with two entire squadrons of trained pilots and hundreds of Marines. You and I both know how that’s going to end.’

  Salim’s podgy features twisted with anger but he forced a smug grin across his face. ‘Better to die trying than to not have tried at all.’

  ‘You’re sacrificing your own people for nothing,’ Idris insisted. ‘It’s over, all of it. You cam’t defeat Atlantia and you can’t win here because you’re outnumbered and outgunned by five to one. All your plays are up, Salim, yet again. I’m surprised any one of these people is dim enough to follow you to certain death for nothing.’

  Salim glanced at his men.

  ‘They know the meaning of loyalty!’ he shouted.

  Around Salim the pirates began looking at each other, their weapons slowly lowering as they weighed up the odds and realised that following Salim Phaeon had gone from being the best game in town to the worst. One by one, they stood down.

  ‘Stand firm!’ Salim almost screamed. ‘We have Arcadia!’

  ‘You have nothing,’ Idris countered. ‘Nothing without us, anyway. We humans, pirates or not, have to learn to start working together or there’ll be nobody left at all.’

  Salim scowled and raised his pistol to point at Idris.

  Instantly, some sixty Marines aimed their rifles back at him, and to Bra’hiv’s surprise half of Salim’s pirates turned and aimed their weapons at their former leader also. The pirate king glared at his own people, his face twisted with hate.

  ‘You’re back-stabbing, slime-ridden scum, every last one of you!’ he ranted.

  ‘Charming as ever,’ Idris called out. ‘Stand down, Salim, or I suspect your own colleagues will shoot you.’

  Salim fumed and seemed almost to hop on the spot, but he lowered his pistol and tossed it down onto the ramp. Bra’hiv felt a wave of relief wash over him as the pirates surrounded their former leader and then turned to watch Captain Idris Sansin. The captain cast his gaze over hundreds of former slaves and decided to consolidate his gains.

  ‘You are free, each and every one of you!’ he shouted. ‘You may go your own way, or you may follow us, but either way it’s time to get off this planet!’

  A deafening crescendo of cheers burst out from among the crowds of slaves, loud enough to compete with the crashing waves near the cliffs and the buffeting winds that howled endlessly across the barren little world. General Bra’hiv finally lowered his rifle and deactivated the plasma magazine.

  Nearby, Evelyn turned as a man with grey hair fought his way through the crowd toward them, and Ishira broke away and rushed toward the man. They collided in a deep embrace, Erin between them, and Evelyn felt a little warmth blossom inside her that briefly veiled the nausea and chills pervading her body.

  ‘That’ll be Stefan then, I guess,’ Teera said.

  ‘Don’t,’ Evelyn smiled in response, ‘you’ll be getting me all emotional.’

  Teera raised a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘Speaking of which, I should imagine Commander Ry’ere will be on his way down to you before long.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Evelyn challenged.

  ‘That your boy will be pining for you.’

  ‘Will you cut that crap out?! He’s not my boy.’

  ‘Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time, right?’

  The sound of ion engines cut through the blustering wind, and Teera smiled brightly.

  ‘Ah, that must be him now, racing down in his Raython to sweep you into his arms and…’ Evelyn turned to cut Teera off, but then she saw the smile vanish from her friend’s face to be replaced with a look of sheer terror.

  The entire crowd turned toward the sound of the ion engines, and as Evelyn looked up she saw a large, blocky craft plunge down through the turbulent clouds, its engines glowing and casting plumes of heat down toward the ground as it swooped in and reared up. A boarding ramp beneath the cockpit area lowered even before it had touched down, and Evelyn felt fear creep cold up her spine as she saw figures leap with inhuman agility from the interior of the craft.

  ‘Enemy, front!’ Bra’hiv yelled.

  Evelyn whirled as she saw dozens of Veng’en spring into action as they landed, plasma rifles cradled in their grip and blades flashing as they charged forward.

  ‘It must be the Veng’en we were following!’ Teera yelled. ‘They’ve doubled back!’

  And then Evelyn realised that the Veng’en were not alone.

  From within the assault craft’s interior plunged a black deluge of Hunters, the Legion pouring like metallic black oil to soak the planet’s surface in a writhing sea of killer machines.

  ‘Covering fire!’ Bra’hiv bellowed, and instinctively he looked up onto the scaffolding above for Qayin’s Marines.

  To his dismay, he realised that they were gone. Bra’hiv glanced to his right to see the towering soldier fleeing toward the pirate fleet far to his left, his Marines in pursuit.

  *

  Salim Phaeon’s plasma whip lashed out and struck Idris Sansin across the chest as the Veng’en horde plunged from their craft and flooded onto the plain. White pain ripped across Idris’s body and he cried out as he stumbled and collapsed onto his back as all around him the crowd of slaves and soldiers scattered in panic.

  He heard the pirate king’s screams above the din. ‘Seal Arcadia! Don’t let them aboard!’

  Idris rolled over, smelled the stench of burning fabric and looked down to see his uniform
singed black and beneath it his skin charred where the whip had struck him. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and turned his head to see a hail of plasma fire zipping back and forth around him as the Marines and slaves opened fire on the charging Veng’en.

  ‘Captain!’

  Lieutenant C’rairn dashed to Idris’s side and helped him up.

  ‘I’m okay!’ the captain insisted. ‘Support General Bra’hiv!’

  Idris turned to see Salim Phaeon vanish into a thick morass of smoke, several of his lackeys running with him as they boarded Arcadia and raised the ramp behind them.

  Pain and rage forced Idris to his feet and he ran low in pursuit of Salim, the roiling smoke provoking tears that ran down his face and blurred his vision as he sought Salim through the smog. Plasma fire crackled and hissed as rounds smacked into the frigate’s massive hull and impacted the rapidly rising boarding ramp.

  He spotted Salim’s brightly coloured coat billowing in the wind as he dashed into the ship’s interior. Idris, his chest heaving and pain searing his skin, rested one arm against a scaffolding pillar as he fought for his breath before he dashed forward and jumped up, his hands grasping the edge of the boarding ramp even as gunfire raked the ground behind him.

  Idris hauled himself upward, swung his legs desperately to clamber aboard before the ramp closed. He heard the hydraulic jacks whining shut and saw the upper seal rushing toward him. He strained and managed to hook one ankle over the edge and with a supreme effort he hauled himself upward and tumbled inside as the ramp slammed shut with a deep boom that echoed through the ship’s corridors.

  Idris clung to the deck and waited for a moment in pitch blackness.

  Salim’s piratical vanguard had vanished into the darkness, the beating of their boots on the deck and a dim flickering of flashlights fading into the distance as Idris peered into the impenetrable blackness of Arcadia’s interior, unlit now that the power supply had been cut off. Like all major warships of her age and class she was fitted with a massive central keel that ran from beneath the launch bay all the way to her stern. Service corridors ran alongside and over this central keel, and from them the rest of the entire ship could be accessed if one knew the way.