“We need cover,” Lesner said mulishly.
“Cowardice in the face of the enemy, Chief?” Eastwood growled. “Or are you just afraid.”
“I’m on the front line, facing every attack—or are you blind, you tin-pot martinet?!” Lesner snarled.
The rapidly escalating argument was interrupted by a thump as Heirophant jumped down from his sniper position atop a turbo-laser, which was one of the tallest mounts on the deck.
“We have to counterattack, Chief. And it is suicide without cover, First Officer Eastwood,” said the Tracto-an Warrior, “that is why we will use the grav-carts. We can send them out in front of us, and use them to cover our advance.”
Caught up in the heat of their argument, it took the two leaders a moment to process the interruption.
Eastwood’s lip curled but he nodded. “Excellent thinking and initiative, Gunner,” he said with a nod.
Lesner scowled. “Could work,” he grunted.
Within moments the remaining carts had been rounded up and whatever could be piled up on top of them to increase the potential cover was added on.
“The droids are getting squirrelly, we need to go now,” said Eastwood.
“After you, sir,” Lesner said, overt politeness in his voice.
Shaking his head, the First Officer took the lead on the right side and not to be out done the Chief Gunner took up the front position on the left.
With a whining of repulsors, the carts started moving.
“Come on, lads; it’s time to show these machines what a gunner can do,” growled Lesner.
The droids started taking pot shots at the grav-carts and then as they passed the first gun-mount a droid popped up around it and opened fire.
“Gah!” cried an assistant gunner crumpling to the ground after a shot to the torso.
“Fire at will,” shouted Officer Eastwood.
The gunners opened fire, filling the air with their ramshackle weaponry’s bolts. They took losses in the opening exchange—too many losses—but for the first time in what felt like forever they, were gaining ground instead of losing it. They could never have done it without the extra men and the grav-carts.
A pair of droids suddenly leapt into the air towards the gunners, and while they were in the air men and women behind the carts were exposed to enemy fire. A man had his hand blown off, and a woman lost half of her head, collapsing bonelessly to the ground.
The droids landed on a right-hand cart with their gun arms automatically tracking. The situation was dire, to say the least. Then Heirophant threw himself up onto the cart, the oversized boarding axe he preferred whistling over his head before chopping into one droid and then bashing the other off the cart with pure, brute, force.
Leaving the fallen droids to the rest of the gunners, the Tracto-an gave a battle scream and dashed forward with his axe, leaving a trail of destruction as he passed. Lesner saw a bolt hit him and the overgrown lunk just shrugged it off, not even pausing in his down swing as he took the head off of yet another droid.
“Charge!” cried Eastwood, leveling his sidearm and leading the attack. Bolt after bolt flew from the First Officer’s weapon and, not to be outdone on his own gun deck, the Chief Gunner howled his anger and followed. Side by side they fired, and ran, into the enemy lines.
The droids were much better at small unit tactics and covering one another than the gunners were, but the Chief Gunner was proud of his boys and girls. They had heart. And what was more: they were driving the enemy back!
A powerful droid counterattack, comprised of ten warrior droids, rolled back onto the deck and advanced on the Gunners. The firing was fast and furious, and Lesner took a bolt to the arm that spun him around and sent him to the ground. Slapping on a quick fix patch impregnated with Combat Heal, he staggered back upright, transferring the pistol over to his still-useful hand and started firing again.
“Have at them, men, don’t stop!” called out Eastwood, charging forward into the midst of the droids and going to rapid fire with his side arm.
The fire picked up in support and several droids fell. Then the droids turned their blasters on the First Officer.
Eastwood took a shot to the head, spun around, and fell motionless to the deck.
The gunners gave a communal roar and surged forward in response, overrunning the enemy and cutting them down in a violent clash of metal and meat.
Hurrying over to the First Officer, the Chief Gunner found him lying face-down on the deck. Rolling the officer over as gently as he could, the Chief Gunner shuddered.
“Ah they’ve blown half your face off, sir,” he sighed at the sight of grey matter. There would be no fixing that, even inside a healing tank.
“Come on, lads,” the Chief Gunner said standing up and pointing at the now retreating droids, “we can’t stop now. For Eastwood and all gun crews—forward!!”
As his men and women charged, the Chief Gunner took a step and almost crumpled. The pain in his damaged arm was too severe to ignore any longer. Looking at his arm, he saw exposed meat—and far too much blood.
Deciding to stop before his legs gave out on him, the Chief Gunner holstered his pistol in his belt and with a shaky hand pulled out a hand rolled cigar. Sticking it in his mouth and lighting it one-handed was a trick, but the terrible smoke entering his lungs quickly took his mind off the jitters and battle shock.
His legs feeling steadier, he pulled back out his pistol and started forward again.
No one took his gun deck away from him, unless it was over his dead body!
Chapter 57: Counterattack from Medical
“Here you go, Admiral; just lay down and rest while we fit your arms and legs with these supportive braces,” said Doctor Cho.
Of course, lying back and relaxing while I was being fitted with a new set of torture devices was impossible and, by the end of the fitting, I was grey-faced and wracked with sweat. I knew because of the mirror in the sink beside my hospital bed…about the grey face, not the sweat, of course. That much I could feel myself.
“There we go, Admiral. Just wait while the assistive braces calibrate themselves and you’ll be mobile again,” said the Doctor, turning away with the self-satisfied expression of a job well done.
Awake and fully conscious—and about to be alone for the first time since I’d been rescued—the weight of everything that had happened to me in just a short time. My failed one man attempt to clear the ship of boarders had been the move of what I realized now was a shortsighted fool. Captured and being repeatedly ‘trained’ a droid Overseer…
I started to shake. I should have died many times over and, right at that moment, my hands wouldn’t stay still, quivering like I was a man with palsy. I’d brought the Phoenix in too close. I should have done more to play to her strengths, which were hit and run, not try to sidle up to a squadron of ships each more powerful than my own and try to slug it out like I was the king of the galaxy.
Now my fleet was scattered and the flagship was overrun with boarders. I had no idea how the rest of the battle had progressed. I had to face the fact I was a failure as a commander.
Power-armored feet stomped over to my position.
“It’s great to see you up and about again, but you need to hurry and get up, Admiral,” Gants said, hurrying into the room as fast as his armor would permit.
“What is it, Gants?” I asked, dragging myself back together. I ran a hand over my face and even though it hurt to move the recently damaged joint of my arm, the power assist and tight form fitting brace helped reduce the pain and make it easier to move. In a strange way, I even welcomed the pain.
“There’s a large force of droids blocking the entrances to Medical; the wounded can’t get in for treatment. People are dying, sir, and on top of that they need us up on the bridge—right now! We’ve got to break out, and we need to do it right now, Admiral,” reported Gants.
“I understand,” I nodded in agreement, “I just don’t see why you need me, Gants.”
/> The head of the Armory team looked at me like I’d just turned into some strange, alien life form. “The droids have breached the bridge, and we’re going to need you to take charge when we get back up there,” he exclaimed and then looked at me fiercely. “Besides, this is just like in that small bug ship at Tracto—and again when we took this Strike Cruiser from Captain Cornwallis. We need you, sir. We need you to lead us. The men will fight harder, and we know we’ll win, if you’re there beside us.”
I dropped my eyes under the weight of the naïve belief, even now, after every loss I’d had, that if I was only present he would someone win and we’d retake my ship. I couldn’t meet his eyes or those of the battered Armory team behind him, either. But at the same time, since I was pretty sure we were all going to die pretty soon anyway, I didn’t see the point in crushing what little hope they had left. Dying beside them in a doomed charge to save the bridge was better than sitting and waiting for the droids to break in and slaughter the wounded—especially if they were asking me to man up and go out with them, which they were.
“Nothing would make me prouder,” I said, laboriously standing up with the small servo-assist built into the knee and elbow joints, “I don’t know how quickly I can move like this, but I’m game if you are. Does anyone have a blaster pistol? I’m afraid that’s about the most I could handle right now.” In truth, I wasn’t sure I could hit anything with said pistol that was further away than six feet away, but I rather fancied the idea of going down guns blazing.
“We could get you some armor?” Gants hesitated.
“I wouldn’t fit or, if it did, I couldn’t fight in it. Just give it to someone else and let’s do this,” I said.
“Thank you,” Gants said fervently, “I’ll pass the word! Come on.” He gestured, hurrying away.
Despite the discomfort of moving, I couldn’t help but be swept away and, before I knew it, I had joined with twenty members of the Armory security team off to one side of the main door into Medical.
Gants and his men took deep breaths, which I could hear through the ear bud they had helpfully provided.
“Go, go, go!” Gants shouted, overriding the lock and opening the door to Medical.
The first man into the door took a shot to his helmet and dropped instantly, but the next two hurtled over him and through the door.
Blaster fire raged back and forth, and in less than half a minute, the last of the Armory team was through the door.
And then it was my turn.
For a moment, my mind was filed with the images of the neural lash and white pain filled my mind, which was only a little less debilitating for being remembered instead of experienced firsthand.
Then a medic moved forward to the door control panel.
Shaking off the flash back, not stopping to think, I walked through the door and into a raging fire fight.
“Armory!” cried a power-armored team member, standing flatfooted and firing multiple bursts from his blaster rifle into a droid warrior who rolled from side to side, straightening up only to return fire before moving again.
Leveling my pistol, I snapped off a shot at the fast-moving droid, not really caring that the bolt missed, because as soon as I fired the torture-filled memories started to recede and my mind filled with clarity.
Taking up a position beside a nearby bulkhead, I started firing. Hands still shaky from repeated use of a neural whip, I missed more than I hit. But at least I was accomplishing something by forcing the droids to keep their heads down.
For a pair of minutes, we pushed forward into the droids and it looked like we were going to succeed in breaking out. Then the flow of battle started to turn against us. It was barely noticeable at first, but we had reached the tipping point and the weight of battle was flowing against us.
Half a dozen fallen crew in battle-suits marked the path leading out of Medical, but now we were starting to pull back, leaving those fallen suits behind.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Gants said falling back to my new position beside a structural support beam, “we’ve failed you. I don’t think we’re going to make it out.”
“You guys didn’t fail me, Gants,” I said truthfully. If there was any failure here, it was mine.
“We’re going to have to withdraw, sir!” the head of the Armory informed me.
“Do whatever you have to,” I agreed and at his disheartened look I clapped him on the shoulder, “if it’s anyone’s fault, it was mine.”
Half a dozen droid warriors rolled forward, firing as they came, with another dozen behind them. On our side, half our team were wounded and having difficulty moving from damaged joints and rent armor.
“Fall back, lads!” Gants cried, motioning for a fighting retreat to the doors of medical.
The droids started to chase, when the sounds of combat started from somewhere further back behind the droid position.
“Briga!!” screamed a very human voice.
Just as quickly as they’d started advancing, the half dozen droids in the lead shot to the sides of the corridor and took up defensive positions, while the dozen in the rear turned around and headed the other way.
Gants and the other Armory men stared.
“This is our chance, man,” I grabbed Gants by the shoulder, “sound the charge!”
“What?” Gants said and then gave himself a shake gripping his rifle tightly.
“Our Lady of Glorious Oxidation!” shouted another crewman behind the droids.
“Life Support, throw the nitrate. Bilge Rats, hold those shields low,” screamed another voice, which was soon joined by dozens of voices which gave vent to a battle cry, “Environmental Department!”
The sounds of battle redoubled, with explosions rocking the corridors and filling it with smoke.
Gants shot his free arm forward, “Charge!”
“For the Armory!” cried another, and a damaged battle-suit staggered out of cover firing as he went.
Following the Armory team, I took aimed shots around the running figures of the team but thanks to my recent injuries I was quickly outpaced.
“Get ’em, lads!” I called out, limping to catch up, the excitement of the moment taking hold.
Chapter 58: Akantha Counter-boards
“Warriors, we go to relieve our fellow citizens on the Furious Phoenix. Do not stop until every droid is dead—now follow me!” ordered Akantha stepping out of the airlock and then launching herself at the Phoenix.
Hundreds of battle-suited figures followed her across the dark, empty chasm that was cold space, and landed beside her on the outer hull of their sister warship.
Finding an opening into the ship through the scarred hull of the Furious Phoenix wasn’t difficult, and within moments the Lancers of the Furious Phoenix had returned to their home away from home.
Spreading rapidly through the ship the lancers were unopposed until they ran into the first of the droid boarders and with a roar the Warriors of Tracto attacked.
Cutting and chopping her way through the warrior droids, Akantha took vicious delight in dismembering the Overlord Class of these Droid. And, although they put up a stiff resistance, they could not hope to stop her battle-hardened veterans in their power armor.
“Sundered are ordered to Secure Engineering, while two companies of Lancers are to come with me to the Bridge!” Akantha rapidly ordered, “Darius, you are to take the remaining Lancers and root out the enemy everywhere else. Let’s go.”
It was on the way to the Bridge that the droids sallied and counter-attacked—which was just the way Akantha liked it.
“Messene!” she shouted, ducking a blaster bolt and cleaving a warrior in half.
“You cannot stop the universe from achieving Harmony; you will be defeated,” shouted a tentacle-sporting Droid Overlord.
“Stand and face me like a warrior,” Akantha heckled the Overlord, which stood safely in the back of its formation of warrior machines.
“Kill that human unit!” ordered the Droid.
Akantha bared her teeth while more and more Lancers joined the fight.
This was going to be fun.
It had been too many months without action and, now that she was expecting, she was doubly blessed to have so much fighting before her belly got too big to wear her power armor any longer. Already, if she was honest, her clothes were becoming too tight.
This was truly a reward from MEN for a life well-lived, and she intended to make the most of it!
Chapter 59: Relief or Death
“Catch,” Laurent tossed the Tactical Officer a blaster rifle, and he in turn handed off the sonic pistol he had been carrying to one of his operators.
“We can’t hold them for much longer, Captain,” gasped one of the two Lancers who was still standing.
“Just a little bit longer,” the Captain promised. Although, just what exactly he was promising, he wasn’t entirely sure. He watched as yet another wounded crew member was dragged into the ready room.
Having a door between it and the fire raging at the blast door, it was one of the few places still safe from the raking fire that pummeled through the rest of the bridge. The ready room was one of the few places they could put the wounded that didn’t further endanger their lives.
“I can’t hold them,” shouted the Lancer to the left of the door right before a trio of plasma grenades rolled through the shattered blast doors leading into the bridge.
Screaming, the Lancer kicked the first grenade back through the door and then, with a jump and a wild flail, he smashed the second one with his hand.
Laying on his side, the Lancer looked back at the Captain for a brief moment before rolling on top of the rapidly cycling grenade. An instant later, all three grenades exploded.
The battle-suited Lancer was lifted up into the air a couple of feet by the power of the grenades before slamming back down onto the robust, front section of his now ruined front armor. Hot, liquid metal splattered on the floor, and smoke rose from the burnt and ruptured internals of the Lancer.
Admiral Invincible (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 7) Page 37
