Terran Fleet Command Saga 4: TFS Fugitive

by Tori L. Harris

  Reynolds knew from an intellectual standpoint that her battle management system gave her full access to everything that was going on in the area. The problem was her ability to access and mentally process it all quickly enough to provide the level of situational awareness she required. She also knew that making unnecessary comm calls in the middle of a high-threat environment marked her as even more of an outsider — perhaps even an amateur. Screw it, she thought, they probably think that anyway, so on the plus side, there’s no need for me to waste time pretending otherwise.

  “Rios, Reynolds,” she said aloud, her call immediately routed over the tactical comm channel by her suit’s AI.

  “Reynolds, go for Rios,” he replied, obviously exerting himself physically at the moment.

  “We’re working the problem with the lift in the maintenance hangar above you, but I don’t have an ETA yet. Looks like the hostiles may reach you before we do. Can you hold your position?”

  “We’ll do our best, Commander. I assume you read my note about the antimatter pods?”

  “That’s affirmative. Is your cover in place in the corridor?”

  “It will be momentarily, ma’am. The biggest problem may be finding a way to disengage from the Krayleck once you get the lift working.”

  If we get the lift working, she thought bitterly as she glanced over at three members of her squad already using plasma torches in an effort to clear several large pieces of debris.

  “We may find ourselves pinned down in this corridor, Commander,” he continued. “If that happens, I’ll peel off as many Marines as I can, and then I want you to get the Wek personnel and as many of our people as possible aboard the Gurkhas and exfil. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master Sergeant,” she replied after a brief pause. While she was technically the “on-scene commander,” there was no question that Rios was calling the shots where the Marine platoon’s mission was concerned — and that included her at the moment as well.

  “Don’t worry, ma’am, that won’t be my first choice either,” he chuckled in an attempt to lighten the rather dire tone of their conversation. “Unfortunately, Theseus’ initial estimate on the number of hostiles appears to have been a little low. The revised total is now up to one four three based on the number of troops working on the personnel airlock up top. Any chance we can authorize the use of a couple of Squad Light Railguns or even a grav grenade launcher before they get down to where we are? It would sure be nice to level the playing field a bit.”

  “I understand, but unfortunately not. The standing control order is still ‘weapons hold,’ and their breaking into the facility does not constitute a direct attack on our forces. The very first shot they fire, though —”

  “Kill,” he said simply.

  “You’re damn right. Good luck, Top. Reynolds out.”

  Rescue 11, Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  “They’re coming,” Sergeant Ellis announced simply from a position roughly two hundred meters in front of the Marines’ defensive line.

  Once the Krayleck troops had entered the hangar bay, Theseus was no longer able to provide much in the way of useful data regarding their movements. Worse yet, something about the Marine squad’s proximity to the station’s large reactors in combination with the long, sloping tunnel leading up to the advancing enemy troops had been playing hell with their EVA suits’ passive sensor suite. After several false positives, Rios had sent Ellis far enough up the corridor to at least provide a heads-up that things were about to hit the proverbial fan.

  “Rios copies. Double time it back down here, Sergeant.”

  The data Ellis had gathered was largely as expected. There were now roughly one hundred and forty Krayleck troops on the station’s main level. Nearly their entire force had massed in what almost looked like parade formation near the top of the corridor, then started down as a group.

  On the plus side, at least we managed to come up with some cover, Rios reflected as he watched Sergeant Ellis come sprinting back to the defensive line at the nearly sixty kilometers per hour provided by his EVA suit’s synthetic musculature.

  In the brief period of time since the Human Marines had arrived, one of Commander Gara’s engineers had managed to place three of the large cylindrical storage pods in the corridor leading upwards to the facility’s hangar bay. Using a hydraulic lift, he had maneuvered the first up to the relatively level landing above the first set of stairs, then placed the remaining two into overlapping positions where the corridor opened into the reactor section itself. Between the two makeshift barricades, four of Rescue 11’s Marines had set up two SLR railguns within the structural framework that made up the base of the first cylinder. Everyone else simply waited quietly behind whatever cover they could find — pulse rifles at the ready.

  In the final moments before attempting contact, Rios issued a challenge and response equipment and readiness check to the members of his squad via his suit’s neural interface. Not surprisingly, the nineteen Marines waiting nearby each responded at least twenty percent faster than their personal averages. They were as ready as they were likely to get.

  “KRAYLECK TROOPS!” Rios’ voice boomed up the hallway at the one hundred and twenty decibels provided by his suit’s voice amplification system. “I am Master Sergeant Antonio Rios of the Terran Fleet Command Marine Corps. Our troops are engaged in a rescue operation and will clear the area with the station’s remaining Wek personnel within the hour. For your own safety, you must halt your advance now. Stop where you are and do not attempt to interfere with our operation.”

  Shortly after the enemy troops had started down the long hallway, every member of Rios’ squad had been presented with a comprehensive tactical plot display — all of the information required to engage and defeat their adversaries projected seamlessly within their fields of view. The updated tactical data was immediately relayed up to Commander Reynolds’ Rescue 12 squad located in the maintenance hangar above as well as to the Theseus herself and beyond. Each member of both Marine squads, the crew of the Theseus, and countless other Humans monitoring the situation across a region of space spanning hundreds of light years paused to see if Rios’ last ditch attempt to avoid a confrontation with the Krayleck troops was having the desired effect.

  At first, the orderly Krayleck formation halted, its troops spreading out loosely along an extended section of corridor as if they intended to simply hold their position and wait for the Humans to depart as Rios had ordered. After a brief delay, however, a single contact detached from the group and quickly advanced to the edge of the next landing above the Marines’ defensive position. Although the angle of the corridor largely obscured his approach, he was briefly visible to the entrenched Marines as he ran quickly forward with one arm stretched far behind his body to heave a small, round device in their direction with all his might.

  “Take cover, weapons hold!” Rios shouted over the comm channel, knowing full well that at least half his troops had a shot at the fleeing Krayleck. Even though the device now bouncing and rolling rapidly toward their line was almost certainly an explosive of some sort — and as absurd it seemed at the moment — the rules of engagement did not permit them to open fire.

  The words had barely left Rios’ mouth when he saw movement to his right. Sergeant Ellis, having remained on his feet after returning from his brief recon mission, darted from behind the barricade and snatched up the device in a smooth, fluid motion that would make any major-league shortstop proud. With two quick steps towards the next set of stairs, he drew back his arm and hurled the device — his EVA suit multiplying his already powerful throw by a factor of five.

  When the device left his hand, it was moving at well over one hundred meters per second, but unfortunately had traveled only five meters before detonating at a velocity of over eight thousand meters per second. Sergeant Ellis’ suit, while designed to save his life even in extreme situations such as this, was hit by such a large number of
fragments that several managed to penetrate near the end of his still-extended arm. The white-hot metallic shards ripped through flesh and bone as they continued their path of destruction, reaching his chest cavity just twelve milliseconds later — mercifully severing his spine and ending his life well before his brain had received the first pain impulses from his nervous system.

  “Weapons free,” Rios growled bitterly while simultaneously notifying the Theseus that his Marines were now officially designated as “troops in contact” with enemy forces. Calling up a display that allowed him to quickly assess the physical status of his squad, he noted that there had been no additional injuries. What the hell was the point of that? he wondered while switching his helmet display back to the tactical plot view and breaking cover with two other Marines to recover the body of Sergeant Nick Ellis.

  “From what I could see, Top, it looked like that asshole was wearing a Mark 1 EVA suit,” one of the two men said — his mind angrily searching for some means to avenge the senseless killing of his friend and mentor he was now helping to carry. “They were long gone before my hitch, but I don’t think they could take much of a hit. No way in hell they could stand up to a bolt from a pulse rifle.”

  “Good eye, Corporal, you’re exactly right,” Rios said. “Go ahead and take Ellis back to the lift and then hustle back here double quick.”

  That’s it exactly, he thought as his enemy’s situation snapped into much clearer focus in his mind. They don’t know anything about our capabilities, but they sure as hell know their own limitations. They probably assumed — and have now confirmed — that if they come down here they’ll be out in the open in a relatively confined space fighting against well-trained troops firing from behind cover. So, they send one guy down to either convince us to give up or try and flush us out. The problem is, there’s nothing to keep them from …

  Glancing again at the tactical plot, Rios saw that three Krayleck troops had separated from their line and were once again advancing towards the landing above. Without hesitation, he took off in their direction at top speed while ordering eleven of his Marines to follow. As they covered the distance between the barricade and the next stairway, their suits’ battle management AI designated the three advancing Krayleck soldiers, now clearly outlined in red within their fields of view, as priority targets. To ensure a successful intercept, the AI assigned a total of four Marines to attack each of the approaching targets.

  Having started out closest to the enemy line, Rios was the first to reach a point where he had a clear shot. The three Krayleck soldiers were obviously not expecting to encounter opposition on this level — an important fact he filed away for later. He could also see that each one carried another explosive device, but no other weapons were visible at the moment. His pulse rifle already shouldered, the AI took into account an enormous number of variables in order to provide the highest probability of a kill. A circular target appeared within his field of view over the center of mass of the nearest advancing Krayleck soldier, immediately prompting him to fire. In less than a second, he had steadied his aim, noted the urgent “locked” tone in his ears, and sent three bolts of compressed plasma downrange at just shy of the speed of light.

  As quickly as his mind had registered the fact that his rounds were indeed penetrating the Krayleck’s armor, Rios had smoothly shifted his aim to the second, and then the third targets. Before the three enemy soldiers’ lifeless bodies had skidded to a stop on the smooth tile floor, his suit’s AI had replaced their previously red icons with grayed-out squares in his helmet’s tactical plot display. Each was now also marked with a simple “I/L” designation — informing the remainder of Rios’ rapidly approaching Marines that the status of all three targets was now assessed as “incapacitated/lethal.”

  With everything that had been taking place over the past few minutes, Rios’ attention had been understandably focused on the corridor between his small force and the main body of Krayleck troops. Now, as he took a moment to reassess the rapidly changing situation, he noted with no small satisfaction the larger than expected group of Marines emerging from around the sides of their barricade.

  “Glad you could make it, Commander,” he said with a smile that could be heard over the tactical comm channel. “We need to attack immediately.”

  Chapter 14

  TFS Theseus, Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  “That’s three confirmed enemy KIAs, Captain,” Lieutenant Lee reported from Tactical 1.

  “Hmm,” Prescott replied. “Keep a close eye on their ships. If things go poorly for their ground forces, I’m guessing that may change their disposition up here as well.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Our goal at this point is pretty simple, folks, we have to give Rescue 11 and 12 enough time to get everyone back aboard the shuttles and then safely return to our hangar bay. With the facility’s shields down, a single, well-placed shot from one of the Krayleck’s railguns could kill everyone down there. I also don’t think we can afford to assume that they won’t risk killing their own people … particularly if they think they’re going to lose most of them anyway. Helm?”

  “Yes, sir,” Fisher replied.

  “Now that Commander Reynolds’ team has the lift working, I expect they’ll have the first shuttle on the way back shortly. Go ahead and ease us into a position where we can use our shields to protect the area around the maintenance hangar on the surface as well as the reactor section below ground.”

  “We’ll have to get pretty low, sir.”

  “Probably a thousand meters or so, yes, but it can’t be helped.”

  “Will do, Captain, heading in closer now.”

  “Tactical, no change in our attack plans. If the Krayleck ships start shooting, send the Hunters after Foxtrot 1 while we target Delta 3. Hit ‘em hard and fast, just like we discussed.”

  “Aye, sir,” Lieutenants Lee and Lau replied in unison.

  On the starboard side of the view screen, the tactical plot clearly showed that the three enemy destroyers had halted their advance after reaching optimum beam weapon range — with the Theseus now sitting rather ominously at the intersection of their innermost overlapping range bubbles.

  “Captain,” Lieutenant Dubashi said, “I just received a textual status update from Commander Reynolds’ neural interface. She says they have a tactical advantage and she believes they might be able to compel the enemy ground force to surrender. She and Master Sergeant Rios are in the process of consolidating their two squads in preparation for moving forward from the defensive barricade to put pressure on the Krayleck position.”

  “Wait …” Prescott said, incredulous, “she says they’re planning to attack?”

  Herrera Mining Facility

  (87.2 light years from Damara)

  “There’s a lot of movement in their lines, Commander. We can attack or make a run for it, but either way it has to be now,” Rios said in an urgent tone that demanded immediate action.

  “Understood,” she replied. “Everyone’s in position — two Marines and seven Wek holding the line, with the rest of us ready to advance on your order.”

  Rios briefly considered attempting to convince the XO that she should join the rear guard herself, but quickly dismissed the idea since he knew exactly what her response would be. Both of them had worked frantically to consolidate their small force in the short period of time since the last Krayleck attack, and, as a result of their efforts, every available Marine was now assembled with weapons at the ready in preparation for a push up the corridor to engage the enemy. In case things went poorly, they had left the two SLRs — now manned only by their gunners — stationed at the defensive barricade along with the remaining seven Wek personnel, each having been hastily instructed in the finer points of pulse rifle operations.

  “Everyone keep in mind that we do not know the capabilities of their rifles or their suits,” Rios said as he gave his small assault force a final once-over. “
All we can tell for sure after taking a look at one is that they fire kinetic energy rounds like our SLR. We’re betting they’re a lot less powerful, but if we start taking fire that’s effective against our armor, we’re all gonna haul ass back to the barricade. Everyone clear?”

  Rios cringed inwardly at his own gross overuse of the tactical comm, but knew that it was necessary under the circumstances. In response to his query, however, he was gratified to see that all of his Marines — Commander Reynolds included — had responded promptly and without a sound, leaving only a single verbal response from Commander Gara using the radio she had just been issued.

  “Alright, people, let’s move,” he said, leading the way up the next staircase.

  As he ascended the stairs, Rios noticed once again that the Krayleck did not seem to be aware of his troops’ advance. They were definitely doing something, but their movements were not at all what he would have expected from a group of soldiers who knew they were about to come under attack. Realizing there might still be an opportunity for his Marines to fire from a position of relative cover, he issued a quick series of instructions — the most important of which was for as silent an approach as possible.

  Less than thirty seconds later, Rios and ten other members of his squad eased quietly up to peer over the edge of the last few stairs at the Krayleck line — still over fifty meters distant. What they saw made no sense whatsoever from a Human perspective. Just as indicated on their tactical plot display, the enemy troops were still arranged in an orderly formation with eight columns stretching back for sixteen rows. The remainder of their number — perhaps their equivalent to officers or NCOs — were milling about the perimeter of the formation, each one emitting a loud series of sounds that did not yield to translation by the Marines’ AI.