Chen just finished a briefing as he moved toward the command deck in the center of the battleship on auto-pilot.
“Captain Chen, we have five more shuttle runs en route. Systems check out.”
“Goddamn, what would I do without you?”
“Probably try to canoe through space,” she said matter-of-factly, garnering some smiles from his crew—now all familiar faces—easing the strain behind them.
“All right, we’re the second battlegroup to arrive in Gilese system. Taelyon, plot accordingly. Travestki, I better have those weapons ready. Jenkins, make sure those drop-ships are ready to go. It’s going to be a hot one in Gilese. Ghent, how’re we running?”
“All green in engineering.”
“Good. Run those checks, people. Better to find a problem now—don’t know how we’ll be able to fix it later.”
“Captain, I have a message from Commander of Roma’s Legions.”
“Patch it through.”
Charles listened from his privacy bubble, meaning no one else could hear. He came out looking thoughtful and then shrugged.
Mark pulled up a message from the legate from the Ninth. Damus Versanti’s face appeared in front of him.
“Mark, the senate doesn’t know of your boarding of the Moby at this time. We’re going to be dropping into Gilese and I think you and yours can give us an advantage we sorely need against the towers of Gilese if the Maraukians take them. You can choose to go back to Roma if you choose.”
Mark bounced it to the other Phantoms, it took milliseconds to receive their answer. “We’ll go, sir.”
“Thank you, Mark,” Damus said, sounding relieved.
The channel cut as Mark’s HUD returned to normal. He looked at the drop-ship a few meters away they’d be dropping into Gilese on.
“Charles, do you remember that launch system?”
“Yes, why?”
Chapter 42
The Yard
Earth, Sol system
5/3353
Jerome swung through the scaffolding that surrounded the Alexis.
He threw himself toward the living quarters.
Some of the yard workers were securing gear. The ex-troopers were like a flock of gymnasts as they sped for shuttles and living quarters.
Ortiz had flashed a code yellow.
Report to stations, armed and armored.
Jerome got to a hangar with all of its tugs and shuttles grounded.
People wearing all kinds of stripes indicating their profession landed, activating their mag boots and taking off for the air locks.
Jerome stuffed in with five others. The air lock cycled quickly.
People moved quickly and professionally. They’d all trained quietly for this. Now that training was paying off as lockers were opened; fatigues and armor were pulled on. The machine shops moved fake walls out of the way, opening up armories and rolling racks of weapons out.
Jerome moved to his locker, dropping his work vest, helmet, and clothes into it. He pulled on his gray fatigues, the rank of major on his shoulder and Victor on his chest.
He pulled it on, sealing it and throwing armor on. It had been nearly four years since he’d put his armor plates on. He didn’t even need to think about it as he pulled straps tight and clipped buckles together.
He pulled his helmet out and onto his head, sealing it to his fatigues.
“Jerome, good to see you’re live,” Ortiz said.
“What’s going on?” Jerome asked.
“We just had reports of unknown craft entering the Gilese system. They are not ours, or any other corporations’.”
“Who the hell are they?” Jerome asked.
“No idea. Get your ass to the command center. I’m still in transit to Yard Two.”
“Moving.” Jerome grabbed his E12, checked it was functional, and took off at a jog toward the command center.
The command center was a horseshoe: view screens at the front, controllers around the sides. Command tables were to the right side; holographic projectors to the left with a big one in the center.
Navy to the left, troopers to the right and never with the two mix.
“Reports coming in from Dominguez. She’s slowly bringing the Westerly crew to their defensive positions. Keep watchers in the dark. Will take a few days,” Hughes said.
He’d been a sergeant at the citadel; he’d shown an aptitude and was a veteran of a number of battles but had still been passed over for promotions.
Jerome relaxed at Hughes’s unflappable expression. “Good. How are we looking on the transport side of things?” Jerome asked.
“The Alexis is nearing completion. We can rig her. We’ve got dozens of inter-system freighters. We can get her to alter her path if needed,” Hughes said.
His implants pinged with a message.
Fucking junk mail at a time like this! He dismissed it angrily.
“Continue the delivery. Bring Captain Hall up to readiness, though. Where is Yu and his transports?” Jerome asked.
“They’re moving on delivery between stations and Earth. Yu’s moving to the Westerly complex with his crew. They’re doing roll call and passing the word. It will take them up to a week to get all of their people mobilized,” Hughes said.
“Good. Keep it low-key. We don’t know the full extent of everything that is going on.” Jerome accessed the biggest command table and started looking at images of the new arrivals.
It looked like a mechanical flower—an octagonal prism with eight wedges stuck to it. It looked like a pencil that had been sharpened at both ends with odd bulges at the pointed ends and a floating rubber band around the center. It wasn’t pretty, signs of quick manufacture and assembly showing.
“Yes, sir. We’re also ready to send a message to the other subsidiaries if necessary,” Hughes said.
“Let them know. If this showed up in Gilese, then we don’t know where the hell else they’re going to show up.” Jerome looked at the sensor logs that showed the craft had simply appeared just a few weeks’ travel from Gilese Actual.
It had taken a few minutes, locked onto Gilese Actual and gone for it. There were two other inhabited planets. People had to use suits to live on them but they’d built underground cities like the ones Jerome had seen on Masoul.
Whoever was controlling the ship didn’t care about the crappier worlds.
Another message came in, this one from Dominguez.
>Go read the fucking junk mail.
>You owe me a tin of dip still.
I owe her a tin of dip? She doesn’t chew, though. It’s only Bobbie, Ortiz, Mark, and me.
Curious, Jerome went to his Junk Mail, opening the message he’d tossed away earlier.
>Listen up and listen quick. I don’t have much time or bandwidth for this shit and I’ll probably get my ass kicked out of the legion if anyone figures this out. So shut up and read. There will be time for answers later.
Jerome opened the attachment, getting annoyed with the messages. Holy shit. Jerome looked through the information. There were detailed diagrams of what he was seeing on the sensor logs, and what was in them.
“Hughes, my office.” Jerome sent Hughes the file and moved to the small conference room to the side of the room.
Hughes followed, his eyes unfocused as he looked at the new information.
Jerome locked the door and turned on a noise canceller. The two of them got close so they could hear each other.
“Where did this come from?” Hughes looked to Jerome with a confused expression.
“I have no idea, but I think they know me and they talked about something called ‘the legion.’ I don’t know what other option we have but to trust them. This information. We’ve got tactics, what the damned ships will do, even ideas on how they’re doing it. Weapons, unit make-up.” Jerome stopped looking through the information.
Hughes’s eyes widened. “Did you look at the last line of the last document?”
“What?” Jerome scrolled through it al
l, coming to the last line.
>I’m coming home. Heard I might have to add another two letters to my arm. Thing’s getting a bit crowded.
>22A21
Jerome had been part of a platoon called the Triple-Two’s. They infiltrated Masoul and Osdal, fought on Fernix and Earth. There were just five remaining people of the Triple-Two’s: Jerome, Dominguez, Yu, Young, and Bobbie.
One section—that was Mark’s section. Jerome’s eyebrows lowered in thought. His eyes started to widen in possibilities, but he stamped those thoughts out. If he allowed himself to hope now, then when it turned out to be wrong it would hurt all the more.
Even as he tried to stamp it out, he felt it growing in his gut.
“Who the hell is two-two-alpha-two-one?” Hughes asked.
“It’s the Triple-Two’s platoon, one section,” Jerome said.
“Who the hell would know that?”
“That is the million-credit question,” Jerome said. “See if Moretti can trace the source. In the meantime, I want all of the leaders getting this information. Say it’s the best we’ve been able to come up with and there was something in the Ministry’s records,” Jerome said, not knowing how else to tell them he’d got the information.
“Will do,” Hughes said.
“I have a meeting to attend with my grandmother-in-law,” Jerome said, collecting his sound canceller.
“Yes sir,” Hughes said. They left the conference room. Hughes got people moving as Jerome jogged to the offices, his implant tracking down Jane.
He barged in and she looked up in alarm.
“You could give an old lady a heart attack barging around like that!” Jane grabbed a cigarette packet and offered one to Jerome. He took it as she lit hers and tossed him the lighter.
“So what do you need?” She exhaled. The room smelled like strawberries.
Jerome pinched the area in front of his head and threw it at her table.
“What am I looking at?” She pushed slates and paperwork onto the floor.
“This is what we’re fighting. Somehow it made it into a few weeks’ flight of Gilese Actual.” Jerome pinched and sent another message. “This is the technical information we’ve been able to gather.”
Jane looked through the plans and information, muttering about engines, power output, different machining processes.
She, like Jerome and every other person who had come to command the Yard, had trained in every single profession. She wasn’t an expert in all of them, but she had a good idea about a few. She used both of her hands, cigarette hanging from her mouth, the stimulants in it waking her up.
“Well?” Jerome asked after a few minutes.
“Well, it looks like it’s about as cheaply made as the Earth Military Force’s carriers. Though this…” She turned an image, of a ring and bulbs on either end. “This is more advanced than anything else on those ships. The weapons I wouldn’t want to tangle with, or get within a few hundred thousand kilometers of. And their armor is decent, but the regular engines, power plants, holding areas and cryopods—they’re generations behind our own. It’s like they found what was the quickest to build and also functional, then slapped it together.”
“So what is it?” Jerome asked.
“If I was to guess, and I am, I’d say it’s an Alcubierre drive.” She looked at the image.
“The hell is that?”
“It basically displaces space around it, pushing the ship faster-than-light. Think of it like…” Jane waved her hands around in thought. “Like when you have your hand in water, you squeeze your hand together quickly and you shoot water forward. Or a wet bar of soap—squeeze it and it shoots forward. Kind of works like that.”
“Okay,” Jerome said, kind of getting the idea.
“While the science is complicated, these drives don’t look all that confusing.” Jane leaned forward, flipping the image back to her.
“That sounds like you have an idea,” Jerome said.
“Give me a few months. I might be able to pull something together.” Jane smiled and looked up at Jerome.
“All right, but don’t break anything. And I want your people to tell me where those things are weak. If we fight them, I want Hall to know how to break them.”
“Will do,” Jane said, not looking up from the images.
Jerome turned and left as she started sending messages to various department heads.
Chapter 43
SLS Moby
Roma, Hellenic system
5/3353
“That’s the last shuttle.”
“Thank you. Everyone green light?” Chen watched as the lights on the side of his screen changed from yellow to green.
“Carrier Intrepid, this is the battleship Moby. We are ready.”
“Understood. Wait out.” A few hours later, after settling down and finishing every diagnostic and check imaginable, the battlegroup’s net came alive. “All right. Battlegroup Gilese two, move out in formation assault four three.”
The ships moved, forming a half cylinder with its rear open and the sides closed, containing the carriers.
Dreadnaughts and battlecruisers made up the bulk of the cylinder, with stealth ships intermingled to lend their fire support and on the outer edges, ready to charge in where needed.
“Commence jump for Limus.”
The ships AIs were linked as they jumped, staying in perfect formation as they continued to accelerate across Limus system toward the Gilese jump point. Battlegroup Gilese one was a day ahead of them, pushing their engines to just below maximum.
Chen looked on the Limus system, one of the outer colonies of Earth, the space facilities and forces racing for the planet as they arrived. Messages from the EMF forces demanded to know who they were and the shock as they were greeted by a human face that said that the battlegroup was moving through, didn’t mean them any harm and was part of the Roma’s legions.
The crew settled down for the five-day transit. Gilese battlegroup one was able to make their jump on the third day. Information was still incoming from Gilese as the second wave had arrived of four Insertion barges, holding a total of forty-seven-million fresh Maraukians.
Halfway through the fourth day, Gilese battlegroup one finally came into contact with the Maraukians’ second battle transport group.
The Maraukian ships had thankfully landed farther out than the first armada, which raced to make contact and cut down as many Maraukians as possible. The battlegroup ripped through the group mercilessly but the estimated number of Maraukians was still in the tens of millions as their ships raced toward Gilese Actual, out of range for the ships as they regrouped and waited for the second Gilese battlegroup or the third wave of the Maraukian battle transports.
It was still a day till Chen and his second armada would make it to the jump point and then three more hours till they could get boots on the ground. Every minute counted and however much everyone wanted to rush the jump point as fast as their engines could take them, everyone held onto their training, keeping to the highest speed the cruiser was able to make.
Chapter 44
SLS Moby
Roma, Hellenic system
5/3353
Mark read his book as he waited, listening to heavy metal music as he tried to get his mind off what was about to happen.
“What do we have to expect on Gilese?” Ava asked.
Mark breathed slowly as memories of what felt like a lifetime ago flashed behind his eyes.
“Gilese was one of the first colonies. It has nearly three major cities, all accessible from the underground system. The outside’s a little too bright, so it was easier to stick everything underground. The cities sprout out above the ground in a circular fashion, the biggest buildings in the middle, getting smaller as they spread out. They create rings around the center until they get to a hundred levels high. Then most of the city is underground mining resources and transporting between the cities. Each apartment building has a bunker underneath it. They have rations a
nd food for four months. The only way to open them is with an Earth Military Force code or if the people inside open it for you. No citizen is allowed a weapon. The most they’ll have is melee weapons, unless they take some construction equipment that could function as turrets and guns. Though I doubt it—it’s too fast and quick for many to be armed like that.”
“Hopefully they use those bunkers.”
“They should—that’s the first reaction when they’re under attack. At least it should be.”
“Didn’t think of that.”
“I’m trying not to. I hope we have something planned for this.”
Mark watched as they transited from Roma’s system to Gilese, this time with none of the wonder and interest as before. The ship’s information was updated by a nearby buoy, showing a third fleet of battle transports behind the second Gilese battlegroup already halfway in-system.
“Legionnaires, load.”
Mark and the Phantoms rushed the air lock, swinging through it with ease as they landed inside the drop hangars with the drop-ships overhead. Mark was running over the specs of Charles’s present as he opened his helmet; he pulled a tin from his nanite layer and packed a lip before putting it back and replacing his helmet. It was great not having to worry about the effects of cancer anymore. The legion had solved it decades ago, meaning Mark could smoke and dip with a clear conscience now. Hell, there were even healthy brands that gave people vitamins. Plus his nanite layer ate all of the spit; it was near impossible to smoke a cigarette and it made the helmet smell like shit for a few days.
The Phantoms dropped their ammo, putting it together with other supplies they’d brought and creating drop pallets out of them. Other legionnaires jogged in, locking themselves into loading crates. The Phantoms, done, loaded themselves and the pallets into tubes facing outward of the carrier’s air locks, locking them in, the worst place for someone with claustrophobia ever. But the HUD made it look bigger as they shot the shit through the net.
The Tenth Awakens (Maraukian War Book 1) Page 26
