Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive

by Tori L. Harris

  “Savage 3 is on the flight apron now, but there’s no way they can get down to you before the Krayleck ships do. It’s probably safe to assume their troops will try to breach near the hangar bay to gain control of the airlock and then bring in their landing craft. So Savage 3 needs an alternate entry point.”

  “Yes, sir. Stand by one, please,” Rios replied, temporarily muting his audio. “Ma’am,” he called, running to catch up with the Wek female he had just spoken to as she stepped aboard the shuttle. “We need another way to access the reactor section from the surface. I saw some sort of small structure above —”

  “Yes,” she interrupted, “there is an airlock that should be large enough to accommodate one of your shuttles. Once inside, they will have access to a freight lift platform that was used during construction. We still use it while conducting maintenance on occasion, so I am confident that it is still operational. The airlock opens into a hangar-like structure that is very similar to the main hangar bay we are in now — just on a much smaller scale. The airlock can be freely accessed from the outside, but only after the station’s shields have been disabled.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. In fact, I suspect the Krayleck troops will take care of that with no help required from us,” he said with a wink and a quick smile. “Thanks again, ma’am. Now please climb aboard and get strapped in. We’ve got to get you out of here right now.”

  “Take care, Master Sergeant Rios,” she said with a disarming smile of her own. “I hope to have the opportunity to speak to you again aboard your ship.”

  Rios smiled awkwardly, then turned away without further comment, donning his helmet in one smooth motion as he cleared the now dangerous area surrounding the departing shuttle. She did not just flirt with me, he thought.

  “What if she did, so what?” his suit’s AI interjected, once again refocusing his mind on the situation at hand. “Now pull your head out of your ass before you get it shot off, for chrissake. The capo is still waiting on you, by the way, if you’re finished makin’ eyes with the pussy cat.”

  Right, he thought, chiding himself for becoming momentarily distracted. “Sorry for the interruption, Theseus-Actual,” he said aloud after reopening the channel. “Savage 2 is departing now.”

  Once again before his captain had time to respond, Rios issued a flurry of commands to his remaining troops via his suit’s neural interface in anticipation of abandoning the hangar bay to the approaching Krayleck force. The list of instructions for his twenty-two remaining Marines included one that none of them had been expecting.

  “We see the hangar bay doors opening, Rescue 11,” Prescott said over the tactical comm channel. “They’re cutting it close, but it looks like they’ll be out of the way before the Krayleck landing craft arrive. So far, the enemy ships still seem to be ignoring us. Unless you’re willing to surrender, however, I doubt that will be the case for you when their ground troops arrive.”

  “Yes, sir. Be advised that I do not have sufficient troops to hold the hangar bay, but we’ll do what we can to ensure the doors are secure. I’m also pulling some additional weapons out of Savage 1 and sending it out of the hangar bay as well with no one aboard. As soon as that’s done, the rest of us will be heading down the access tunnel to the reactor section.”

  “I thought you might opt for that since you’ll likely be cut off from the hangar bay. Are you sending Savage 1 all the way back to Theseus?”

  “Negative, sir. I’m transmitting coordinates now for another small hangar bay with a maintenance access lift on the surface. I’ll have Savage 1 wait for us nearby. Savage 3 should be able to access the airlock, proceed inside the hangar, then dismount and take the lift down to the reactor section. Once we leave the hangar bay, however, there will be no one left in here to disengage the facility’s shields.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that too much. I’m guessing the Krayleck troops are about to take care of that problem for us.”

  “Yes, sir,” Rios replied, chuckling to himself. “That’s what I thought as well.”

  “Finish this extraction quickly and without enemy contact if at all possible, Rescue 11. Prescott out.”

  Chapter 13

  TFS Theseus, Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  “The three destroyers are still closing, sir. Still nothing aggressive like they’re preparing to open fire, just a steady advance,” Lieutenant Commander Schmidt noted from his Command console. “They seem to be keeping their frigates out of the way for now.”

  “You heard their captain say that we must either flee or surrender,” Prescott said, “and under the circumstances, I’m sure he expected the former. But since we’re still here, he’s turning up the heat to see if he can force us to commit ourselves one way or the other.”

  “Captain, we’re now tracking dismounted EVA troops from the first of the Krayleck landing craft. Looks like they’re heading for the hangar bay,” Lieutenant Lee reported from Tactical 1 as he placed a zoomed-in view of their activity on the bridge view screen.

  “That will most likely be their sapper crew. Energy barrier shields are effective enough against ranged attacks — particularly against energy weapons — but they’re also relatively easy to defeat in a situation like this.”

  As they watched, sixteen Krayleck troops fanned out in the area surrounding their landing craft. Since there was no natural cover to speak of, most assumed a prone position nearby or simply waited behind their shuttle, each training their weapons in the general direction of the hangar bay door. Shortly thereafter, a hatch opened atop the landing craft to reveal a crew of two — undoubtedly a gunner and a spotter — who immediately manned a heavy weapon of some sort. All of this activity seemed to be in support of a group of four troops working feverishly to set up a small tracked vehicle approximately forty meters ahead of the ship.

  All of the troops wore armored suits that were similar in appearance to versions previously used by TFC Marines. Was it possible, Prescott wondered once again, that the Krayleck had simply accepted the knowledge offered by the Pelarans at face value with little notion of either improving upon it or integrating it with their own existing technology over time? Their civilization had obviously been “under cultivation” for dramatically longer than Humanity. Had the overwhelming influx of Pelaran science stifled their collective creativity just as so many had feared would happen on Earth?

  “Looks like a total of one eight troops in that first shuttle, sir,” Lieutenant Lau said, interrupting his captain’s musings. “Assuming that’s all of them, and the other landing craft are carrying the same number, Rescue 11 will be up against a total of one zero eight Krayleck.”

  “All the more reason to avoid that situation if we can. Helm, I suspect the station will be losing its shields shortly. At some point, we’re going to need to provide cover for our three assault shuttles long enough to get them aboard … potentially under heavy fire.”

  “Understood, sir. We can get into position very quickly from here when the time comes.”

  Moments later, the four Krayleck troops working in front of their ship apparently finished their task and immediately hustled back to join their colleagues. With no additional delay, the tracked vehicle began moving forward, dragging a pair of heavy cables behind — one leading back to the landing craft, the other anchored to a metallic rod the team had driven deeply into the ground. At a location precisely determined by its onboard sensors, it paused briefly to allow a large-bore beam emitter mounted on its sloping forward surface to pivot slightly upward before unleashing a bright green stream of energy directly into the mining facility’s shields.

  “Detecting a major power surge from their landing craft, sir,” the lieutenant reported from the Science and Engineering console. “The beam emitter they’re using is rapidly modulating its phase and frequency.”

  “That’s how they’re planning to take down the shields?” Schmidt asked.

  “No, they’re just c
reating a bunch of interference to lower the field strength in that area. Keep watching.”

  As if on cue, the tracked vehicle surged forward once again while continuing to fire its forward emitter — the point of impact now obscured within a large sphere of brilliant white light. As it advanced, the body of the vehicle itself began to interact with the station’s barrier shield. Pulsing waves of energy traveled outward along the forward edge of the shield as glowing tendrils of arcing electricity danced all around the tracked vehicle. As the induced electrical discharges reached their maximum intensity, the vehicle abruptly stopped, immediately lowering a set of four hydraulically actuated outrigger spikes into the ground. Within seconds after the spikes made solid contact with the ground, the dazzling electrical display seemed to flicker momentarily, then ceased entirely.

  “The station’s shields are down, Captain,” Lieutenant Lee reported.

  “What, that’s it?” Schmidt asked, incredulous.

  “I know … a little anticlimactic, huh? Nonetheless, you have to admit that their approach is simple, quick, and very effective,” Prescott said with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Essentially all they’ve done is create a massive path to ground and temporarily overloaded the system. At some point, the station’s AI may well find a way to reestablish the field, but, as you can see, by then they’ll have a semi-permanent breach in place.”

  On the bridge view screen, the Krayleck troops were wasting no time doing exactly that. First, a sturdy, telescoping mast extended upward from the center of the tracked vehicle to approximately two meters in height. Twelve of the troops then rushed forward to attach an expansive mesh of conductive fabric stretching outward from the mast to a series of long poles that they quickly anchored around the perimeter of the assembly. When all was in place, the central mast was extended to its full fifteen-meter height, creating an enormous, tent-like tunnel that was easily large enough to accommodate the passage of their landing craft.

  “Their other five shuttles are on the move, Captain,” Lee reported. “Looks like they’re headed straight for the breach.”

  “Schmidt, you’ve got a green deck to launch Savage 3 as soon as those landing craft are on the ground. Dubashi, signal Rescue 11 that the shields are down and they’ll have Krayleck troops inside the facility momentarily.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Look sharp, everyone. Their ships may be less inclined to ignore us once their troops are inside the facility.”

  Rescue 11, Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  Although Rios continued to acknowledge the steady stream of communications from the Theseus, there was little information in them that wasn’t overwhelmingly obvious from inside the now-besieged Wek mining facility. Throughout his team’s headlong rush down the long, sloping corridor with its occasional sets of steep stairs, the station’s AI continued its own litany of dire announcements — most of which he sincerely wished he could mute. One bit of good news, however, was that the breach in the facility’s shields had allowed its reactors to decrease their power output significantly, reducing the ambient noise level to a dull roar and making communication without electronic assistance possible once again. Even better than that, just over halfway down the corridor, his squad’s short-range passive sensors had begun picking up the signatures of the remaining Wek personnel, all seven of which now appeared on his helmet display.

  It was one thing to study a building’s floor plan, but something else entirely to experience it for yourself firsthand. As the Marines finally reached the end of the long corridor, Rios knew immediately that it was not the ideal defensive location he had been hoping for. The reactor section was cavernous, so there was indeed a natural choke point at the bottom of the final set of stairs. With some heavy equipment for cover, he could easily position a line of troops to fire back up the long corridor, making an approach from the direction of the hangar bay nothing short of suicide for even a much larger Krayleck force. The problem was the contents of the room directly behind the planned location for his defensive line.

  Just a stone’s throw from the bottom of the stairs were row upon row of large, cylindrical pods — each one measuring just over two meters in diameter and four meters in length. Each pod was connected to a network of cables routed along a series of trays suspended from the room’s towering ceiling. On the side of each, numerous placards warned anyone who dared approach (using the most enthusiastic terms available in the Wek language) of the dangerous materials contained within. Although there was little doubt in Master Sergeant Rios’ mind what he was looking at, he paused momentarily to allow for the translations to be projected within his field of view. The simplest of the placards included only two words that were, nevertheless, more than sufficient in any language: WARNING ANTIMATTER.

  As Rios stared disconsolately at the pods — his mind temporarily overwhelmed by what looked like a completely unmanageable tactical situation — Commander Gara appeared from around a rack of equipment. Even though he had noted several seconds earlier that one of the station’s remaining Wek personnel was headed his way, he was surprised by how quickly she had covered the distance. He also noted that Gara wasn’t winded in the least, a feat of endurance and speed that he knew he would be unable to match without the help of his EVA suit.

  “Master Sergeant Rios?” she called out somewhat hesitantly to the group of Marines, having no idea which one he was. Although her keen eyes could make them out easily enough in the dimly lit storage area, whatever material formed their outer armor seemed to absorb much of the light that fell upon it. Although she was fully aware that this was nothing more than some type of camouflage, the effect gave the Terran troops a strange, almost ghostly air — like apparitions from some half-remembered nightmare. As one of their number approached, she remarked to herself how pleased she was that these Humans were on her side.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, once again removing his helmet for her benefit.

  “We have a problem,” she said immediately, skipping the unnecessary introductions.

  “Looks like we’ve got quite a few, Commander,” he said, nodding to the antimatter pods.

  “What, those? They will not present a problem for us so long as we get ourselves and your ship out of the immediate vicinity before we are forced to destroy the station. The problem to which I refer is the freight lift we were planning to use to evacuate all of us to the surface.”

  “So, I take it you heard from the Theseus, then.”

  “Yes, I checked in just a few minutes ago, after the station’s shields went offline. The remaining members of my team are ready to depart, but they discovered that the lift to the maintenance hangar on the surface is inoperative.”

  “Inoperative in what way, ma’am?”

  “They are attempting to troubleshoot the problem now, but the platform was at the surface during the Krayleck bombardment and may have been damaged.”

  “Understood. Do your people have weapons?”

  “No, as you can imagine, weapons are not normally authorized in the reactor section. The closest storage locker is back up on the hangar deck.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’ll send Corporal Montaño and two other Marines back to the lift with you. They’ll be able to show you how to use our pulse rifles and hopefully help out with the lift problem. The rest of us will need to prepare some kind of defense far enough up the corridor to prevent any weapons fire from hitting any of those cylinders. Do you have any sort of equipment or other materials solid enough to create a defensive barricade?”

  “How much time do we have?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder at the long rows of containment pods. “You are correct that we cannot risk anything hitting one of the cryo-cylinders, but they are, nevertheless, practically indestructible. If you can give me five minutes or so, we should be able to transport a pair of empty ones up to the second landing.”

  Rios replaced his helmet, then looked back up the stairs and sli
ghtly to the left in the direction of the hangar bay doors on the level above. With a quick mental command, he superimposed the current disposition of the Krayleck ground forces in relation to his own using data provided by the Theseus. In his peripheral vision, he also noted a blue, flashing icon indicating the arrival of Savage 3 almost directly above his squad’s current position.

  “I’d say five minutes is almost exactly how much time we have, ma’am.”

  Savage 3, Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  “Shuttle secured. No hostile forces detected in the landing zone. Nearest enemy ground forces located 1.5 kilometers to the southeast with no direct line of fire. Immediate dismount authorized,” the Gurkha assault shuttle’s AI announced inside Commander Reynolds’ helmet. Almost involuntarily, she turned her head to the southeast in the general direction of the facility’s main hangar bay, quickly assessing the situation using almost exactly the same information Master Sergeant Rios had viewed just moments earlier. Feeling the eyes of her shuttle’s fourteen other occupants resting upon her, she was painfully aware that she was the outsider here, in spite of the fact that she had received much of the same training as the Marines now under her immediate command.

  Her team’s overall mission objective was, of course, the safe return of the thirty-eight currently deployed troops from the Theseus — herself included — as well as the remaining seven Wek personnel from Herrera. Her immediate personal objective, however, was to stay out of the Marines’ way and allow them to do their jobs as quickly and efficiently as possible.

  Open now … open authorized … open sesame, she thought in rapid succession, rolling her eyes as her mind ran through a litany of related phrases searching for the standard mental verbiage she couldn’t quite remember from her time at Camp Lejeune.

  “It’s not a problem, Gingerbread,” her suit’s AI responded in Elvis Presley’s usual Southern drawl. “Can’t none of these people hear you unless you want them to, so you can just talk to me if you like. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen … I know exactly what you mean,” the AI said in a voice calculated to both calm and focus her mind without distracting from the mission. In spite of her inability to come up with the proper command, both the side and rear cargo doors opened, allowing her squad to quickly secure the small hangar and immediately begin assessing the problem with the lift platform.