Asbaran Solutions (The Revelations Cycle Book 2)

by Chris Kennedy

  “What the hell’s that?” Mason asked.

  “It ignites spontaneously in air,” Valenti explained. “The way we have it formulated, the substance does it quite spectacularly after a few seconds.”

  “Would this be of assistance?” Moretti asked.

  Now it was Nigel’s turn to smile. “Yes, I think it might.” He spoke for another 10 minutes then answered questions for another five.

  Moretti sat back in his seat, frowned, then shook his head. “Even with all that, it is still going to be very dangerous.” The smile reappeared. “Happily,” he added, “that’s just the way we like it. We’re in.”

  Asbaran Ship Vindicator, Free Trading Station, Telgar II

  Mason entered the cargo hold to find Nigel and Colonel Moretti supervising the loading of a number of 55-gallon drums. “Are they almost done?” Mason asked. “We need to get going. I just saw the Jehas, and they said we’ll be late to the stargate if we don’t depart soon.”

  “This is the last one, I think,” Nigel replied as a tractor loaded a 2,000 gallon drop tank in the space next to the drums. The vehicle crawled across the deck, barely moving as it delivered its load.

  “Is that the fastest it can go?” Mason asked.

  “If you value your ship, yes,” Moretti replied. “The diethylzinc inside those containers will self-ignite in air, and it’s nearly impossible to extinguish once lit. As one little hole in any of those drums would likely result in the loss of this craft and everyone onboard, you will hopefully excuse my men for being very, very careful loading and securing them onboard.”

  “Impossible to extinguish?”

  “He’s correct,” Nigel replied. “I looked it up. A long time ago, the space agency in the old United States of America used it as rocket fuel. Expose it to air and off you go. It’s so nasty the Jehas refused to let it come aboard. I had to up their contract to get them back to the cockpit, and they refuse to go into combat with it still onboard. If there is a danger of someone shooting at us, it has to go aboard one of the dropships.”

  “Really?” Mason asked. “That’s all it took to get a raise? Just complain a bit?”

  “We need them to fly the ship. You’re a grunt; you’ll get nothing and like it.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Cockpit, Asbaran Ship Vindicator, Approaching Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  The ship dropped into normal space and was immediately hailed by the forces on the planet. “Unknown ship, this is Bravo Delta Control. State your name and intentions.”

  “This is the Annihilation,” the Jeha pilot replied, “with stores for the company.”

  There was a brief pause before the reply, “Roger that, Annihilation. Your signature isn’t matching what we have on record for you. What type ship are you?”

  The pilot turned in his seat to look at Nigel, who was watching with Colonel Moretti from the back of the cockpit. “What type of ship are we supposed to be? You never told me that.”

  “The Annihilation was a cruiser,” Nigel replied. “No wait, it was smaller. It was a frigate.”

  “That’s the problem. This trash hauler is bigger than a frigate.” The pilot switched to the radio. “Bravo Delta Control, we are a company frigate. Don’t you have our transponder?”

  “We do, but it doesn’t match your radar signature. Authenticate Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.”

  The Jeha looked at its slate. “Well, you’re in luck,” it said. “That’s one of the codes I have.” He switched to the radio. “I authenticate Bravo Sierra. We’re also shuttling some new dropships in, too; that’s probably why our shape looks off. We will appear a little larger than normal.”

  “Stand by. We’re looking.”

  “Think they bought it?” Colonel Moretti asked.

  “I don’t know…” Nigel said. “The codes should have been good, and the transponder is off one of their ships. I never thought about them checking our ship’s size or shape…”

  The seconds turned into minutes and seemed like hours.

  “Annihilation, you are cleared to proceed and land at the base.”

  “Cleared to proceed. We are starting our approach.”

  Nigel nodded and turned to Colonel Moretti. “See, we’re in.”

  “Yeah, here’s where the fun starts. I just hope your plan works.”

  “It’ll work,” Nigel replied. He added silently, I hope.

  Cargo Hold, Asbaran Ship Vindicator, Approaching Planet Moorhouse, Kepler 62 System

  “So here’s the plan,” Mason said, briefing the assembled troops and pilots. A diagram of the Besquith base hung from the bulkhead behind him. “My platoon is going to be in Dropship Two. Our mission is to assault the headquarters building here at the north end of the starport,” he said, pointing to a building on the diagram. “We have to hit them hard and fast so they don’t kill the hostage before we can rescue her. The White Company will deploy from the Vindicator as it flies across the base and will assault the Besquith barracks, which are on the west side of the starport. There are three buildings here,” he tapped the diagram; “these are the barracks. Your mission is to kill any Besquith you see and ensure they are contained so my squad can recover the hostage unimpeded.”

  “What will Dropship One be doing?” First Sergeant Valenti asked.

  “Dropship One is going to hit the barracks ahead of your assault and try to kill as many of the damn wolves as possible, right, Lieutenant?”

  “Yeah,” LT Seville said. “I’m not sure what it’s going to look like; all I can tell you is it’s going to be impressive. You’ll want to make sure the Vindi isn’t too close when I begin my attack run.”

  “The pilots know,” Mason confirmed. “Trust me, based on their response, they will stay way back. After Dropship One hits the barracks, the White Company will jump out of the Vindicator and hold positions here and here.” He tapped the diagram. “Once the troops in the barracks are no longer a threat, the White Company will split. First Company will come to the headquarters building to assist us, if needed, and Second Company will go capture the air defense positions here to the east of the starport.”

  “How many Besquith will be in the barracks?” First Sergeant Valenti asked.

  “It should be most of them,” Mason replied. “We’ll be attacking at night. It’s possible, although not probable, that there will be a patrol or two out, but most of the enemy forces should be in the barracks when the assault begins.”

  Valenti looked penetratingly at Lieutenant Seville. “If you miss, we will be outnumbered two to one,” he said; “please try not to miss.”

  “That’s the plan,” Mama replied, “but I’ve got to tell you—I’ve never done anything quite like this before.”

  Second Platoon, First Company, Blood Drinkers

  Sergeant Creg-An looked through his night vision glasses, surveying the countryside. Nothing.

  “Why do you bother?” Corporal Stel-Ca asked. “There’s nothing out here. There wasn’t yesterday, there isn’t tonight, nor will there be tomorrow. This place is a desert. There’s no reason for us to even be out here.”

  Sergeant Creg-An removed the glasses from his eyes. “No, there isn’t,” he replied, “and if your littermate hadn’t eaten one of the miners, we wouldn’t be out here on this punishment detail.”

  “This is stupid,” Stel-Ca said, head down as he picked his way through the rock-strewn path. “He’s dead. I don’t understand why wehave to do this useless patrol. They could at least let us use the vehicles.”

  “We’re being punished for the 5,000 credits it cost the company. The colonel thinks we should have been watching him better and prevented him from doing it. It’s punishment. That’s why we’re walking.”

  “You can’t really blame him; he was bored.”

  “We’re all bored. This place is awful, and there are no creatures to amuse ourselves with except for the miners, who are off-limits. Still, our hitch is almost up. We will be out of here soon,
with a lot of credits to entertain ourselves with. Assuming no one else screws up.”

  “Well, at least we only got one week of night patrols. First Platoon got two weeks, and they have to patrol the hills.”

  “See? It’s not so bad, now is it?”

  “I’ve got lights up ahead,” the squad’s scout, Corporal Shah-Ca radioed from the front of the patrol. “Coming toward us, moving quickly.”

  “It’s probably the supply frigate. Headquarters said we had a ship coming in.”

  “Ah, okay. Definitely a ship coming.”

  Sergeant Creg-An raised his night vision glasses again. Although he could see pretty well in the dark without them, the added assistance turned the night into day. “Entropy…” he muttered.

  “What is it, Sarge?” Corporal Stel-Ca asked.

  “That’s not one ship,” he said; “that’s three ships flying in formation.”

  “Base, this is Sergeant Creg-An. You’ve got three ships incoming!”

  Cockpit, Dropship One, Approaching the Besquith Base, Planet Moorhouse

  “Shit!” LT Seville exclaimed as her radar warning gear came to life with the warble of an acquisition radar going live. “Defensive systems are lighting off in front of us!” she announced on the command frequency. “I don’t know how, but it looks like they know we’re coming.”

  “We’re almost there,” Nigel replied. “Go, go, go!”

  Mama jammed her throttles to the stops, accelerating past the lumbering transport. Faster and more nimble than the bigger ship, she raced ahead, quickly leaving it far behind.

  “We’ve got a minute or two while they warm up,” she said, “but then things are going to get hairy. We’re going to have to get this right the first time.”

  “Guidance is good,” LTJG ‘Dark’ Minion said, looking into his targeting scope. “I’ve got the base in front of us and am just starting to break out the barracks.”

  LT Seville pushed the throttles harder, willing the dropship to go faster, but the motors were already at max thrust. A third enemy acquisition radar activated, and then a fourth.

  “I was hoping it would take some time for the damn wolves to get out of bed and to their positions,” she said. “No such luck.”

  “I’ve got the targets,” Dark said. “Come right 10 degrees so we can line them up.”

  “Right 10,” she repeated, turning the dropship to the new heading. She shook her head. The transport, and all the troops onboard, were going to be in a world of shit by the time they arrived.

  “Perfect,” Dark announced. “Left five. We’re on target. 20 seconds.”

  “Left five,” Mama replied. She threw a switch in the center of the instrument panel. “Master arm is on!” The constant warble in her ear changed pitch and frequency. “Target tracker activated! Active defenses coming on!” She pushed the button on her controls that launched a spread of decoys. The flares blossomed brightly behind her, burning at over 3,000 degrees, silhouetting her ship.

  “Stand by…” Dark said. “Stand by…bombs away!”

  Mama pressed the release button and twenty 55-gallon drums separated from the dropship in a string several hundred yards long. As the last drum fell away from the craft, she pulled back sharply on the stick, and the dropship went into a vertical climb.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Dark asked as the night sky turned to day behind them. “They’ll kill us up here for sure! We’ll attract all the missiles!”

  “Yes, we will!” LT Seville exclaimed, the missile warning tone going crazy in her headset as the system detected multiple launches. “If the transport gets shot down we’ll end up just as dead!” Passing 20,000 feet she snapped the dropship back around in a tight turn, launching another round of missile countermeasures. “Hang on; we’ve got a date with their antiaircraft folks.”

  Cargo Bay, Dropship Two, Approaching the Besquith Base, Planet Moorhouse

  “Stand up!” Mason ordered as the red light came on and the back ramp of the dropship started down. The black of night yawned in front of the troopers as they turned and queued up at the end of the ramp.

  “Go!” Mason yelled as the light went green. Troopers jumped into the void as fast as they could follow the soldier in front of them. Nigel watched from the back of the stick as the troopers shuffled toward the door. Fear of jumping into the unknown warred with the excitement of knowing the assault was finally underway. Fear seemed to be winning.

  A bright light lit the night sky as the trooper in front of Nigel jumped, and the dropship was buffeted by a blast, throwing Nigel to the side as the dropship swayed out from under him. Mason, the only other trooper onboard, steadied him and pushed him out the door.

  Overbalanced, he fell into the void head first and flailed his arms trying to regain his balance. After a few seconds of sheer terror while falling headfirst toward the ground, he remembered the attitude adjustment system and triggered the autocorrect. Tiny jets fired, righting the suit and stabilizing his fall. He triggered his jets as the ground came rushing up to meet him, but was a little late and ended up crashing into the ground at a higher rate of speed than the suit was rated for.

  His knees were bent, preventing massive damage to the system, but he was thrown forward face-first onto the hard, bare ground.

  “That did so not rock,” he said to himself as he picked himself off the ground. The impact had stunned him, and he found himself a little wobbly as he looked around to orient himself. Several yellow warning lights had illuminated on his display, but nothing was in the red. Both his laser and his MAC were green. That was something. He armed them both.

  “Are you okay?” Mason asked as he landed next to Nigel in a bust of flames. “Sorry, didn’t mean to give you that much of a shove.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay…mostly…I think. Nothing’s broken.”

  “Good. Let’s go, sir, or we’re going to miss the assault. Follow me!”

  In a blast of rocket fire, he was gone.

  Cargo Hold, Asbaran Ship Vindicator, Planet Moorhouse

  The White Company stood assembled in perfect company formation on the cargo bay ramp, staring into the darkness. Not designed to deploy troops, the Jeha pilots had overridden the safety interlocks to get it to open in flight. The Company stood at a state of attention that would have been exemplary on the parade ground; the fact they did so with empty space rushing past just a few yards away was a tribute to their professionalism. Moretti couldn’t have been any prouder of his men and women than he was at that moment.

  “See that?” Colonel Moretti asked, pointing to the void behind him. “You know what that is? That is your destiny! We jump tonight as a brotherhood; all of us, humans, united in one fight! Riches await those of us who survive the night, but even more important is the message we send these worthless dogs. They thought they could come here and take this planet from humans and collect on our bounty. They thought we would lie down and allow them to take humans hostage. They were wrong! We will crush them and burn them in their lairs, and then we will teach them not to fuck with humans again! By the time we are done with them, the entire Besquith race will call the White Company their masters. They will learn to fear humanity, and they will learn to fear us! Who is with me?”

  “We are!” the troopers screamed as the night lit up behind Moretti, giving them a look at the ground only 200 feet below them.

  “Look at this! They have even turned on the lights so they can see their destinies arriving! Take care of your brothers and sisters, and don’t leave a single one of those bastards alive. They want to kill humans? We’ll show them who’s boss!” The light went green. “For the White Company and humanity!” He turned and stepped off the ramp, with the rest of the White Company right behind him.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Cockpit, Dropship One, Besquith Base, Planet Moorhouse

  “Missile, two o’clock low!” Dark yelled, pointing at the weapon streaking toward the craft. It looked like the finger of God poi
nting at them.

  “Tally,” Mama, said, turning into its path. She fired off a set of countermeasures and yanked the dropship around in a hard 8-g turn, and the missile tracked off on one of the decoys.

  “Kinda busy,” Mama said. “Can you flip the Master Arm on and set it up to release the centerline store?”

  “What? You’re not going to—”

  “The hell I’m not! Arm it up! I’m not going to get hit with it still attached to us!” Mama fought the controls as she evaded another missile and then a third. The air defense techs might have started slow, but they were up to speed now, and she knew it wouldn’t be long until one wiped her from the sky. The controls were already mushy; something had broken loose in the last near miss. At least it hadn’t hit the store or it would have been ‘game over’ for them.

  “Master Arm on! Centerline store ready for release.”

  In a burst of flames, a missile lifted off from the left. As soon as it cleared the launch rails, it turned and began tracking the dropship. Fuck.

  “Missile, three o’clock low!” Dark yelled. “Break right!”

  “Can’t!” Mama exclaimed, pushing the controls forward until the planet filled the cockpit window. “Got one over here, too.” She risked a glance to the right and saw the missile Dark had called. She winced; they were screwed. She might beat one of them, but the other would get them. It was higher than she wanted to drop the non-aerodynamic store, but she was out of time. Mama nudged the controls, putting the reticle in the center of the missile complex and mashed the release button. She felt the dropship jump as the 2,000 gallon tank fell away from the craft, after which she yanked the ejection lever with her left hand. Her seat was still going up the rails when the first missile hit.