by J. L. Curtis
He heard Jace on broadband, “Lincoln, Lincoln, this is Q-ship. We are up and up, proceeding to objective.”
A panicked voice came over the radio, “This is Lincoln, abort, abort, abort. One shuttle is lost and we have damage. Abort, abort, and stand by to assist us.”
He heard a snarl on the circuit, and wasn’t sure who it was, maybe it was even him. Nicole said, “They’re fucking running! They’re max accel back toward the gate and leaving the other shuttle! What the?”
Jace interrupted, “Plan?”
Fargo answered automatically, “Continue. We will attack the site. One squad at the vent, everyone else attacks the plant. Can you take out the missile sites?”
“Yes. Prepare for depressure and max decel. We will open the aft ramp in one seg and remotely unlock each row of armor as the ones in front clear the deck. Entry and hangar will be on the left as you exit. I will arc around to the right of the plant.”
“Captain Garibaldi, CSM?”
They answered in chorus, “Do it!”
“Depressuring now, ramp coming down now,” the G forces slammed on, “Decel.”
Nicole gasped out, “No guards appear to be outside. Vent is clear. No activity at missile launchers but they are still hot.”
“First rank unlocked. Go, go, go!”
“Second rank unlocked, third rank…”
Fargo shut that out as the remaining troops ran off the back ramp, until it was down to the last squad. “Turning to vent, how close do you want to be?”
“Put us one hundred yards off it.” He realized he was still on the command channel and went to the all call channel, “Standby for the vent. Go stealth as soon as you go out.”
“Unlocked, go, go go!”
Fargo charged off the ramp after the rest of the squad, realized they were only a hundred yards up, and was amazed at Jace’s flying. “Cindy, stealth, deploy laser and Gustav, HE round up. Gravity estimate?”
He felt the weapons deploy, and she replied, “Stealth, laser, Gustav HE up. Grav measures point three G.” Fargo hit the ice and grunted, looking at his HUD, he said, “Sergeant Rescoe, spread the squad on a tac front to cover the vent and keep an eye on the plant if we need to respond. Light G, use anti-grav as necessary.”
“Tac front, aye, sir.”
He heard Jace, “Going after the disabled shuttle, we’ll be back as soon as we can. I think they’ve shot their load on the vampires.”
“Roger,” he watched the Hyderabad arc up and away from the moon, as the other platoon and squads maneuvering on the plant with part of his attention, amazed that no shots had been fired, when he heard, “Holy shit!”
He looked up to see ‘something’ emerging from the vent, “Hold fire. Hold fire! It was a weird looking shuttle, and when it got free of the vent it moved slowly toward the closest missile launcher, which was about a mile away. A wild idea came to him, “Rescoe, give me two troops.”
Two of the dots pinged, “Cornelius, Virginia, go with the captain.”
The three of them started bounding after the shuttle as Fargo quickly tasked them, “Let’s see if we can take it. It may only have cargo. Tac spread on the aft ramp. As soon as it drops I will jump the ramp. Cornelius, you’re my backup, Virginia, you’re reserve and security.” He blinked their tasks to them as he spoke, and they clicked mics in understanding.
Less than a seg later, the shuttle settled on the ice adjacent to the first missile battery and the aft ramp rumbled down. Fargo started to jump, but a reload pack sliding out on a grav sled stopped him cold. “Hold position. I can’t breach.” It slid out of the hatch followed by a being in a soft suit, then an obvious guard in a hard suit, “Take the hard suit!”
He pinged Garibaldi, “Status?”
Nicole broke in, “Just broke their encryption, a shuttle full of guards come up from somewhere.”
“Moving into position. No external oppos…”
A scream breached the net, and Fargo saw a suit go red, then Garibaldi saying quietly,
“Okay, take ‘em.”
Fargo said, “Standby the vent. Another shuttle coming up, take it out. Ware the crossfire.”
With no atmosphere, there wasn’t anything to hear, but he saw the guard going down under Cornelius shot, and the person in the soft suit trying to hide behind the missiles. He vaulted the missile pack, charging into the rear of the shuttle and fired on another hard suit that was swinging a laser toward him, “One down inside.” He hit the cockpit door with a shoulder of the suit, and saw a startled face in a soft suit quickly hold their hands up, gabbling at him.
“Don’t shoot the soft suits. Nicole, got a freq for comms?”
She pinged it to him, and he added to his monitoring, hearing “Oh, please don’t shoot, we are slaves, please. Please. No shoot!”
Shit! Last Deity damned thing we need is slaves. That fucks… dammit. Tonguing the all call he broadcast, “Don’t shoot soft suits, they have slaves in soft suits.” He held up his hand, then scrambled out of the shuttle, “Virginia, get in here. Bring the other soft suit with you and guard them.” He started bounding back toward the vent as he saw the nose of a shuttle coming out of the vent. “Take it! Take it, dammit!”
He targeted the Gustav on the cockpit of the shuttle and calmly fired the HE round, knowing he was probably killing a slave. Deity, I hate killing innocents. May Deity have mercy… The cockpit of the shuttle disintegrated, along with the rest of the shuttle as the squad fired into the hull as it went by, shedding pieces and guards in hard suits. “Make sure you kill the hard suits!”
He heard “Breaching charge!” and felt a thump through the ice as he landed. Swiveling his suit vids, he saw air exploding from the plant, and saw a blizzard of laser fire converging on various parts of the plant. “Nicole, any more guard chatter,” he asked on the command channel.
“Negative. And we have recovered the shuttle. Two dead, pilot severe. OneSvel working on him now. We’re coming back down. Lincoln is still outbound.”
Another suit blinked orange, then red, and he winced. Dammit. He heard the CSM, “Shugart, left, Thomas right, looking for the control room. Do not shoot anyone but hard suits.”
“Hard suits, Aye.”
“And go!” Moments later, he heard, “And we have entry,” another suit turned orange, and she added, “Shugart you are one stupid troop. Didn’t I tell you to shoot hard suits?”
A gasp was followed by, “Yes, CSM. I… no excuse.”
An exasperated CSM replied, “And you’re going to hurt for it, right?”
“Yes, CSM, I am.”
“Medic… Shit… we don’t have a medic. Thomas drag her sorry ass out.”
“Dragging, ma’am.”
Fargo watched as the squad finished off the few hard suits that survived the shuttle explosion and turned back to the shuttle sitting forlornly on the icy plain. He jumped to it, and walked aboard, then up to the cockpit. Reaching out, he touched the pilot’s mind, seeing him jerk convulsively, “I will not hurt you if you obey me. Do you understand?”
Frantic nodding accompanied, “I… how are you… What do you want?”
“What is below the surface, and how many guards are there?”
“There are three...modules. About ten miles down. One for guards, I think between twenty and thirty. There is one module for the plant workers and beings like me that are capable of…outside work. The third module is power, food service, and…rooms where they do things to us. That is where the Dragoon lives too.” He pulled additional details, and shook his head, more slaves below? Not good.
“A Goon is here?”
“Rumor is it is a prisoner. It is said it cannot see or speak.”
“Leave the aft hatch open and fly back to the vent. Stop a hundred yards short.”
“The ghosts will kill me!”
“Do it, or I will kill you now!”
Fargo came up on the command channel, “Three modules below. One for guards, one food and power, one Hab. They are floating
on water. There is at least some atmosphere. It’s about two miles thick, and about ten miles down. I’m going to take this shuttle and the squad and go take care of it.”
The shuttle settled softly and he called, “Mount up! Virginia, stay here with the soft suit.”
A disappointed, “Yes, sir,” was followed by Virginia poking the soft suit and following it off the shuttle.
He reached out for the pilot’s mind, “Close the ramp and take us down. Where do you normally dock?”
The shuttle’s aft ramp rumbled closed, and the pilot lifted off, “I have to go vertical to line up. It will be dark and rough. I dock at the service module in the center. There are passages to the other two modules from there.”
He keyed up, “Going to go vertical then down, hold on, the pilot says it’s rough and dark going down. Will dock at the center module.” He was trying to figure out who to send where when he noticed an extra suit on the shuttle, he blinked the link, and said quietly on the command channel. “Where did you come from, CSM?”
“I want to kill them all. They purposely breached the control room, killing everyone there. Six, six of them, were female.”
“You want to lead on the guard’s module then?”
“Yessss,” the CSM hissed, sending shivers up Fargo’s back.
“You’ve got it.” Switching back to the troop channel he continued, “CSM will pick who goes with her to the guard’s module. I want two,” he blinked on two icons, “To clear the… slaves’ module for any guards. Do not shoot any slaves. The rest of us will clear the center module, and be aware, there is apparently a Dragoon prisoner. Do not shoot that prisoner!”
A rectangular shape loomed out of the mist and darkness, then slid by as the shuttle turned toward a misty light source. “Open the ramp,” he directed the pilot, who looked quickly around at him.
“But we’re not inside! I have to close the hangar door…”
“Open the ramp, now! We will be out and moving as the hangar closes.”
The landing lights showed three hatches at the back of the hangar and he broadcast, “CSM, left hatch is yours. Slave module, right hatch, the rest of us up the middle.” The ramp rumbled down and he said, “Let’s go. Do not breach hatch until there is air in the hangar.”
He heard double clicks, and as the shuttle settled on its legs, he projected, “Stay here, if you leave the cockpit, you will die.”
The troopers charged off the shuttle, closely followed by Fargo and he suddenly realized there was going to be a delay before the hatches could be opened, and there were probably vids on the hangar walls. “Dammit, I screwed up, cameras on the bulkheads are going to let them know we’re here. And we’ve got to wait for pressure equalization, so nobody charges through a hatch. Open and clear first, understood?”
A flurry of clicks answered him, as he mentally beat himself up, What else can you fuck up and get people killed? You should have let CSM lead, you’re not even close to qualified. He realized he was ‘hearing’ whistling through his external mics, and said, “Prep the hatches and stand clear.”
He lay down on the deck in line with the center hatch, “I’ll take anybody that tries to shoot through the hatch.” Suddenly the hatch popped open, and there wasn’t anyone there. He ‘heard’ the sizzle of laser fire, slewed his vid left, and saw laser fire coming through the left hatch, with CSM throwing a grenade through the hatch. Slewing back right, he noted the two they’d detailed were through the right hatch and gone. “Go, go, go,” he said, as he charged from his kneeling position straight through the center hatch. He slid to a stop in the mess area, orienting to the left, in case there were guards, but all he saw were melting or destroyed hard suits.
Tagging two dots he said, “Right hall,” Selecting one remaining dot he blinked the info, “Reetina, you’re on me. Left hall.” He stalked carefully down it, using the arm with the laser to clear each room. The last room door he opened bloomed with laser fire, slagging his external pack on the right arm before he returned fire, holing the hard suit. Once the guard went down, he cleared the rest of the room, and then the next room, where he found a dead Dragoon, the center of the chest missing, and one other being who had also been burned down. “Goon is down and dead.”
He stood over the Dragoon and sighed, then used the vid to record the body and its condition. It was obvious the eyes had been burned out, and he very carefully pried the mouth open, the tongue was also burned off. Shaking his head, he turned and started back down the hall when he felt a ‘thump’ and one dot went red and a second red, then back to yellow on his left. He heard air whistling and Cindy’s quiet, “Pressure loss, three segs to zero pressure.”
A panicked voice came on, “CSM is down. She… they blew up… something.”
“Get their armor back, retreat to the center module! Reetina, look for a hatch or soft seal!”
He moved back to the mess area and was greeted by the rest of the squad with one suit of armor. When he pinged the other one, it was still in the left module, “Where is the CSM?”
“It’s sinking, we couldn’t…”
He bowled over the troops as he dove through the passage, “Seal the hatch behind me.” The module was definitely sinking and tilting away from him. He plunged into the liquid, tearing through walls until he ran into the other suit of armor. Grabbing it with his manipulator, he started dragging it back toward the passageway, Deity, let me save this troop. We don’t ever leave a troop behind, Deity… He finally made it to the passageway, lifted the CSM’s suit and pushed it ahead of him. Once he’d scrabbled five or six yards into the passageway, he turned and used the laser rifle to cut the passageway free of the sinking module. When it sprang back, it bounced both of them off the ceiling and floor multiple times. He rolled the suit on its back, and breathed a sigh of relief as the telltale still glowed yellow. Reaching out, he found the CSM’s mind, “Don’t you die on me. Dammit CSM, don’t you dare die on me!”
Escape
Fargo tongued over to the command channel, “Garibaldi, status?” He heard nothing, then said, “Nicole? Jace?” He got no answers, and looked at the comms portion of the HUD. There was no signal showing on the command channel and he tongued back to local, “Reetina, status?”
“Uh, everyone is back, Seekamp says thirty-eight host… slaves, mixed beings in the far module. What do you want us to do, sir?”
“Is the center module holding pressure?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Move the slaves to the shuttle. Get as many in as you can, with a guard. Two guards if there is room. Leave enough room for CSM’s armor.”
“How are you going to…”
Fargo dropped his head, Fuck. I didn’t think that through. Can’t go through the hatch, unless they depress the whole module. Unless… No, that wouldn’t work. Can I fly the armor around to the hangar? I did that once…
“Have you started loading the shuttle?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What I want done is for the shuttle pilot to depress the hangar and wait. I will fly the armor with CSM’s armor around to the hangar. Then the pilot will close the hangar and pressurize, load the CSM, and depress again. Then off you go. You should find Hyderabad on the surface waiting. They are up on the command channel, work with them to get the shuttle in a bay, empty it, then come back and get us.”
“Um, sir, is that possible?”
“We’ll find out. How is the load out coming?”
“Moving the last two now, sir.”
“Let me know when the pilot starts venting the hangar. And tell whomever is going up as the guard on the slaves to let the ship know they’ve been in point three G for Deity knows how long.”
Five segs later, while he continuously watched the CSM’s telltale, he finally heard, “Depress starting now, sir.”
“Rog,” then to Cindy, “Store all weapons, prep for antigrav with another suit of armor in tow.”
Cindy answered, “That will potentially damage your armor to the point of
failure.”
“Cindy, I’m a Marine. We don’t leave anyone behind. Recommendation for carry?”
Moments later Cindy replied, “Recommend arms extended, use manipulator to hold armor horizontal on arms. Estimate eight zero percent chance of one or both arms failing.”
“Copy.” He dragged CSM’s armor back to the end of the passage, feeling it sink dangerously, “Antigrav now.” He maneuvered out of the passageway, rotated, and sank down until the extended arms were level with the floor of the passageway, then used the manipulator arm to pull the armor to him. He quickly started sinking, and said, “Cindy, increase antigrav. Prep lateral movement.”
He felt the armor creaking, and said a quick prayer, then leaned right. The suit bobbled then moved slowly along the side of the module, as the hydraulics started flashing yellow and Cindy said, “Twenty percent failure, right arm. Thirty-five percent failure, right arm.”
“Silence alarm.” He’d never heard the armor groaning like it was, and was beginning to wonder if he was going to make it, Fuck it. I’m not leaving without the CSM, if I die, so be it. He saw a dim glow getting slowly brighter as the hangar door hinged open, and he leaned forward, then quickly left. Planting his feet on the hangar deck, he said, “I’m in, close the hangar and repressurize as quickly as possible!”
He heard the door start rumbling down, seeing six suits of armor facing him, he continued, “I’ve got her, she’s still alive. Is there room?”
Reetina answered, “Sir, there is room for the CSM and one more. You should…”
“No! Send someone else. I will be the last one out.”
Cindy said, “Imminent failure, right arm. Ninety-five…” The arm gave way with a screech, and the CSM’s armor slid slowly to the deck as he lost control.
Reetina replied, “Seekamp, you’re up. Help me get the CSM on the shuttle as soon as the ramp opens, then you steady her.” Two suits stepped forward, and Fargo stepped back, then moved toward the hatch. He sagged in the harness, wondering if he could even keep going, and Cindy said, “Human factors, you are crashing, Captain. Administer stim?”
