by Damon Alan
“Negative, ma’am.”
“Laser link the Yascurra, for constant comm,” Sarah ordered.
“Aye, sir, speaking of which, I’ve got signals coming from in system,” Seto reported. “Broad spectrum, mostly in the clear.”
“Civilian stuff,” Heinrich said. “Military will be coded.”
“And where is our consultant?” Sarah asked. “The bigoted Captain?”
“Hozz? He’s on the flight control deck. I’m making him watch the adepts work.”
Sarah laughed. Heinrich wasn’t going to take that man’s attitude for even a second. “How’s he doing?”
“Not a peep from him. I know the adepts don’t need protected, but I have a marine in there as his escort.”
“Markus?” Sarah asked again.
“On Refuge. Our intel guys are getting all the information they can from him.”
Sarah nodded at that. She’d planned to bring Markus too, but Heinrich was right. He would be far more cooperative as he clearly had the cooler head, which would probably yield more in interrogation. “Well done.”
The time passed slowly as they waited for launch. She made sure everyone going on the mission had eaten, rested, and was briefed on the layout of Strick Isle. Fortunately the plans of unclassified military installations were still in the Stennis’s archives.
Two hours before the assault would begin in earnest, the Stennis launched a dozen FTL missiles into the system. They blinked out of existence boosting away from the battlecruiser, then if everything went right would reappear just above the ionosphere of Mindari to strike low defense orbitals, a few were sent to hit military bases in other locations. By the time the shuttles launched, the Komi responses should be concentrating on the strike zones. They’d have no sensors to see the ground assault team transfer into place. As a tactic, it might not have usefulness more than once. This had to work.
“We’ve matched Mindari,” Algiss finally said.
“Launch our teams,” Sarah said. “Let’s get our people.”
Twelve small ships launched from the Stennis and the Yascurra, then disappeared. Sarah studied the Palino for a moment, floating a kilometer off the starboard bow of the Stennis.
Several minutes later it too blinked away.
Chapter 20 - Admiral’s Personal Log
AI Lucy82A recording, Admiral's personal log, personal archive: Galactic Standard Date 17:08:37 29 JAND 15332
Personal log entry #1792, Admiral Sarah Dayson, origin Korvand, Pallus Sector.
Current Location: Asdahar, Zeffult, Refuge, Oasis System
I’m posting a small log update to make sure the feelings I have now, before our first strong engagement while integrated with the adepts as part of our team, are recorded.
A battle is about to begin. We are, if successful, going to free Alliance prisoners from Strick Isle. Prisoners who, if they accept the leadership of myself and Thea, will be indispensable to our war effort against both the Komi and the Hive.
We’re also about to triple the size of our fleet. Not to mention, if this battle is successful, lay the foundations for creating several fleets to protect Oasis.
I don’t remember the exact number, but I know well over three hundred ships were present to defend Korvand. It wasn’t enough. And while the adepts are definitely a force multiplier for us now, we still need enough ships to repel any attack the Hive might bring.
If something happens to me, Thea, that’s the plan. Make sure it gets followed, preferably by Heinrich. We must protect the adepts at all costs.
[A nine second pause]
We will strike the outer system outposts first. This is war, even if the Komi don’t know that yet.
In war blood is spilled, and it’s not always the deserving.
[A seventeen second pause]
It’s time. I need to get back to my position. We’re about to discover what Emille can do.
End the log, Lucy.
Chapter 21 - Execution
29 Jand 15332
Hamden sat in a jump seat immediately behind the pilot of his shuttle. Further back in the hold a dozen marines rode in wall seats, probably staring at the behemoth of an armored vehicle in front of them. In moments they’d be on the ground and Hamden would be in command of his first military operation. Startled when the planet Mindari appeared in front of him, seemingly out of nothing, Hamden decided he’d had enough of the view in the cockpit.
“I’m headed back, going to get into my next hot seat,” Hamden said to the pilot. “Don’t toss me around too much.”
“No promises,” a young naval pilot, newly assigned to his team said as she turned to yell at him. “The atmosphere calls those shots.”
He didn’t answer. He needed to get into position. Scrambling up the top side of the tank, he dropped into the command hatch. Where Commander Gilbert had sat during their times fighting together.
As he pressed his butt into the seat, the command displays fired to life around him. The front display showed the view the shuttle had on approach. So much for getting away from that. The sky was starting to turn a nice shade of blue, and the sea below a dark gray. In the distance clouds formed in lines, and he could just make out the thin gray contour of a land form.
He looked down to his right, at his gunner. “Sergeant Inswele? All good?”
“That’s right, sir. Ready to bang some heads.”
“Put the armaments load out to my right screen. I’d like to confirm what we’re carrying.”
His right display popped into list format, and the loadouts scrolled downward. Twenty thousand fléchettes for the anti-personnel guns, all dumb rounds. The seekers were too precious to use indiscriminately. Eighty HE rounds for the main gun, along with twenty AP rounds and a small mix of other specialty shots. The bunker buster they carried might be useful.
They also carried six fusion rounds, from a hundredth of a kiloton to two kilotons.
One way or another, Strike Isle would be submitting to the Seventh Fleet today.
“Two minutes until drop,” the pilot called back. “When you hear the track clamps unlock, you start rolling straight back. I’ll make sure you’re on the ground.”
“Wilco,” Hamden replied.
He looked at the front screen. The attack had already started. The four grapplers assigned to him were floating about two kilometers off the island, their radiator fins glowing bright orange as the small vessels gripped quantum foam to fight the gravity of Mindari.
Lances of orange flame tore into the security walls and watch towers of the prison. Men and women were already dying. The impacts from railguns meant for space combat would be devastating.
“One minute,” the pilot called back.
“Roger.”
“Fusion plant is idling perfectly,” Inswele informed him. She was sweating. He remembered doing the same in her position not that many years ago now.
“Just playing a video game, Inswele. Simulation. Treat it like that.”
“They have our people, Lieutenant. I’m ready to kick some ass. I sweat like this in simulation too.”
He grinned. She’d probably do better than he’d performed during the raid on Merik’s vineyard.
The ride was getting bumpier, wind currents aloft over the ocean weren’t behaving. But the pilot was good. She brought the shuttle in over the main courtyard of the prison, and Hamden felt the hum of equipment as the rear gate opened up.
The tank shuddered as the track clamp released.
“Back. Now,” Hamden yelled down to the driver.
The tank, number five-two-seven, rolled straight back and onto the concrete that covered every centimeter of ground.
He looked right to see another shuttle dropping the second tank, and a third dropping a platoon of his people and half a dozen adepts. Around him buildings burned, and the guard towers were all shattered spikes. The men inside those had died before they knew they were under attack.
Over the prison wall a distant mushroom cloud rose toward
the sky, still angry and roiling.
There went the airport.
“If it moves, and it ain’t us or a prisoner, kill it,” Hamden barked into the radio, which he hoped worked. The island was taking an ECM bath from the grapplers, but their frequency was supposed to be excluded. Static said there might be some bleed over. “We’re not here to take Komi prisoners, but to free our prisoners.”
Almost as if giving him the opportunity to prove his sincerity, a bay door opened up on one of the nearer buildings, which looked like vehicle storage. Three light armored vehicles rolled out, their turrets flashing. Like his two tanks, these guys appeared to be using dumb rounds.
The sound of rounds too small to damage anything pinged off the outside of the Hamden’s tank.
“Inswele, kill them!” he howled.
The main turret swiveled and shot, three times in rapid succession. All three vehicles succumbed to one round each, exploding in showers of molten metal and debris. The second of Hamden’s tanks lobbed several HE rounds into the open bay door. The building’s walls collapsed outward and the roof crashed to the ground.
Hamden looked right again. Eight or more of his marines were on the ground. The others were running for covered positions, mainly using the rubble. The adepts were nowhere to be seen. He remembered the invisible adepts outside the vineyard and shuddered. The idea of combat adepts made his stomach queasy. This time they were on his side, however.
“Get to cover,” Hamden yelled into his mic. “If you see a living casualty, get them to cover with you. We will worry about the dead on our way out.”
He brought up the schematic for the prison. He needed to knock down the two buildings in front of him and that should expose the first prison block.
It was time to get busy.
* * *
Dobornik stared at the unconscious adept next to him, the youngster had passed out after the jump in system. He could order one of the adepts off the boarding shuttles, or he could get the most ships possible back to Admiral Dayson and hope the kid woke up.
He’d do the latter.
“Move us in,” he ordered his pilot. “I’ll try to get this one conscious.”
The pilot moved the shuttle over the top of the shipyard while Dobornik studied the vessels there. Some choices were obvious.
“Stars of fate, take that heavy carrier,” he ordered as he marked the target in red. “And those two cruisers parked side by side.”
As he pointed out targets, the boarding pods launched from the sides of his and the other shuttle with him in a predetermined order. They raced toward the ships in question. Launch order was assigned based upon the competency score of the student, decided by the adepts themselves.
“Get that bulk freighter over there, and next in line get that fueler. I hope it has something in the containment bottles.”
He scanned the remaining ships with the weak sensors the shuttle carried. “That light cruiser, that one too,” he said as he marked two more ships.
In front of him the first pod reached the carrier he’d designated first, and it winked out of existence. Behind it was a destroyer, and it was firing thrusters to move it away from the shipyard.
Slowly turning toward them.
Apparently not all the ships here were powered down and helpless. He needed to move fast. Five more ships to go.
“Take those three destroyers in line over there,” he ordered. He searched fervently for the least damaged ships. The shuttle shook each time a pod launched, the last three in rapid succession.
The destroyer that was moving had swung around. It hadn’t opened fire, maybe it didn’t have the manpower on board to do so. Still, it looked like it intended to ram him.
“That looks like an electronic warfare ship over there. Get it.”
He had one more to go. “See that destroyer bearing down on us? That is a planetary siege ship. Take it.”
The last pod rocketed away. He looked down at the pilot in front of him. “Evasive maneuvers?”
The pilot rotated the shuttle a hundred eighty degrees and fired the main engine. Dobornik was pushed back heavily into his seat.
“This is just buying us time,” the pilot said. “If the pod gets there before the destroyer gets to us, we live. If not—”
“We’re split open like…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Dobornik knew better than to press the matter. Either they’d make it or not. The destroyer had two large grappling engines pushing it toward them. They just had their main drive, and this shuttle wasn’t built to actually fight. It was slow.
“Well, we achieved our mission, that’s what counts,” he said as he looked at the rear view. Through the flaming orange of their exhaust, he could just start to see the looming hulk of the destroyer.
That pod better hurry.
He looked toward the floor and closed his eyes.
* * *
The other tank, tank one-three-eight, smashed into the side of the building, turned ninety degrees, and then began driving along the wall base. The higher floors of the building collapsed downward above him, spilling office contents and the occasional office dweller out into the rubble pile.
His driver pointed five-two-seven into the damaged structure, punching into the wall on the far side of the building. They turned and ran down the wall line as well, even as Inswele mowed down prison guards in the area between this building and the next. Apparently the guards weren’t expecting the tanks to take this shortcut.
“Fighters inbound,” his shuttle pilot called down to them. Just four, the grapplers should be able to take them out at range.”
“I thought we were shutting this place down and they wouldn’t call for reinforcements?” he complained to Inswele. He sucked in a breath to calm himself. “Tell them to use a nuke if they need to,” Hamden ordered his shuttle pilot. “This op isn’t going to be stopped no matter what we have to do.”
“Roger,” she answered.
“Should we be hitting Mindari this hard?” Inswele asked as she sprayed down the windows of the next building over.
“You mean with nukes?” Hamden asked.
“Yeah.”
“We’re not making fallout over any population centers. It’s okay.”
The radio burst with static, Hamden picked up a transmission from one of the grapplers. “Two-six, hot bird in flight.”
“Two-six, roger, will relay,” he heard his shuttle pilot say.
“I heard him,” Hamden transmitted. He looked at Inswele. “Let’s knock down the next one,” he said as one-three-eight crawled over the rubble to his left.
They drove toward the next building. A guard ran from the building with a small weapon on his shoulder. A rocket launcher of some type. He fired just as Inswele turned him into paste.
The rocket arced across the clearing in what looked like slow motion, then hit his tank dead in the side. The hit was the loudest sound he’d heard since the vehicles around him had blown up fighting with Merik north of Zeffult. The tank rapidly filled up with smoke, and somewhere below in the darkness voices screamed for a few seconds, the sound barely penetrating Hamden’s ringing ears.
Inswele jabbed him in the side, yelled something he couldn’t make out, then pointed up. The hatch. She wanted him to open the hatch. The right side of her face was hanging loose in shreds, drenching her uniform blouse in blood.
“You’re hurt,” he said, feeling dazed, the thoughts in his head slow to gel.
She pointed at the hatch.
Realizing how urgently they needed to get out as fire started to illuminate the smoke, he finally opened the hatch.
Even in his stunned state the sound outside reached him just fine. Above him the atmospheric jets of a shuttle razed the dust in the courtyard as his shuttle pilot and the automatic guns on each side of it protected him. The gunfire hammered his bones with their concussive force. The building they’d been heading for collapsed as tank one-three-eight ravaged it.
He rolled out on top of the tank, th
en fell off the side hitting the ground hard. Back to the sky, a massive ship loomed overhead, it looked like it was landing in the courtyard they’d first dropped into. The Palino.
Something thudded onto his arm, and he looked right. The lifeless left eye of Inswele stared back at him, the right side of her face even more of a mottled mess in the daylight.
Damn.
He tried to stand, but then someone grabbed him and dragged him toward the other tank. The front troop door was open, and as he and his savior approached the main gun fired, knocking them both to the ground.
A Komi ground vehicle that had just turned the corner around a building lit up in raging flames before exploding violently.
His savior dragged him into the tank and lay him down on the floor, before stabbing him in the arm with something. Whatever it was, the person dropped it on the floor next to him and scrambled back into the turret of the tank.
His hero was the commander of one-three-eight.
His friend had just saved his life.
Chapter 22 - Surprise Attack
29 Jand 15332
Bannick stood nude, in his unlit office suite. He rested one hand on glass as he looked out over Kildare.
Palia rested in the bed across the room, her breathing gently lifting the sheets, then dropping them back in place.
A small light flashed on his desk, indicating an urgent message. That couldn’t be the flash that woke him up.
A second later the lights of Kildare dropped to darkness. In segmented blocks, across the city, buildings went dark. A ship out at sea did the same. No residence lights dotted the distant mountains.
The lights in his building flickered for a moment, but then stabilized as power kicked in from the nuclear reactor deep underground.
What was going on?
Now that the lights of the city were gone, the stars seemed to light up and fill the sky. There. An expanding luminance, with strobes of energy pulsing outward from the center. That had to be related.
His door chime sounded.
“Open,” he called out.
A military officer entered, strode to the front of his desk, and saluted.
