“I estimate the lower ship will crash into the planet in thirty minutes,” Hephaestion reported before belatedly adding, “Captain.”
It was a close enough estimate; Middleton himself put the number at twenty eight minutes. “Try to cut through the atmospheric interference,” he instructed the young man, “compensate for the EM flares; those vessels are near the northern pole.”
“Yes, Captain,” Hephaestion said, and Sarkozi gave Middleton a meaningful look. As it stood, she would step in and take over at any station where underperformance was a danger to the ship and she was checking to see if he wanted her to do so.
But Middleton knew that if they pulled the rug out from under the young man during his first live fire event, they might as well assign him to the galley for the duration of the op. Confidence was nearly as important as raw ability for a member of the bridge crew, and keeping calm under fire was arguably the most important attribute any warrior could possess. So far Hephaestion was holding up well for his first naval battle, and it was unlikely that they could ask for a less stressful induction to space warfare.
Several minutes later, the higher-orbiting vessel’s information began to populate the screen and Middleton ground his teeth. It was a droid ship, but it was from the one tribe which the Pride had not encountered during its previous mission.
“Profile makes it a destroyer, Captain,” Lieutenant Sarkozi reported just before Middleton had independently arrived at the same conclusion, “her power plants are running at less than half of the design’s recorded combat output.”
“Log this information,” Middleton ordered Hephaestion, and the young man nodded as he verified that the information was being permanently stored in the Pride’s data banks.
“Mr. Toto,” Middleton turned to the Pride’s Sundered Tactical Officer, “instruct the gun deck to prepare for live fire.”
“Yes, Captain,” the giant, silver-maned uplift replied in his deep, reverberating voice.
The enemy destroyer adjusted its course and its engines increased their output by several percent as the ship made to flee from the Pride of Prometheus. It had previously seemed content to remain in orbit until its prey had crashed into the surface of the planet, but upon seeing the MSP warship bearing down on it the droids had opted to retreat.
“I detect multiple contacts,” the Tracto-an Sensors operator called out in a slightly raised voice, “they are firing on the planet.”
Middleton felt his guts clench as Sarkozi briskly made her way to the Sensors station to verify the findings. Several seconds later, after making a series of adjustments she reported, “Contacts confirmed; I’m reading thirty one distinct objects descending toward the planet along the destroyer’s path…but they’re slowing their rate of descent as they enter the atmosphere more than atmospheric drag would account for.”
The Captain furrowed his brow, wondering what kind of bombardment device would actually slow down. He had the brief, grim, thought that the droids might be unleashing a bioweapon in the upper atmosphere, but before he could relay that concern his XO made another report.
“The objects are too small to be ships and they have no apparent drive units,” she said in confusion. “They almost look like…marines using grav-sleds?”
“Marines on a droid ship?” Middleton repeated doubtfully before realizing what they actually were. “Smart,” he grudged as he flipped through the database on droid configurations which had been reported in Sectors 23 and 24. He quickly found what he was looking for and activated his chair’s com-link while raising Sergeant Gnuko.
“Gnuko here, Captain,” the Lancer Sergeant responded promptly, and Middleton saw a look of realization cross his XO’s eyes as she stepped away from the Sensors station.
“Sergeant,” Middleton said levelly, “prepare your teams for rapid deployment. We’re showing thirty plus assault droids on approach to the planet.”
“One LZ or multiples?” Gnuko asked quickly, with an unexpectedly eager note.
Middleton examined the data but Sarkozi piped in, “It looks like they’re heading for two…maybe three separate landing zones, Captain.”
“You copy that?” Middleton asked through the chair’s link.
“Two, possibly three LZ’s,” Gnuko repeated, “we’ll be ready for deployment in twenty minutes.”
“Good,” Captain Middleton acknowledged, “but it looks like we’ll have to drop you off while we chase down their ship—it’s making for the hyper limit and even though their engines are damaged it’s going to be tight for us to catch them.”
“Larry that, Captain,” Gnuko replied professionally. “My people will have things wrapped up before we swing back around.”
“Wish your people ‘good hunting,’ Sergeant,” Middleton said before severing the connection and seeing that Sarkozi had already thrown up an intercept course on the main viewer. If all went perfectly, they would intercept the enemy vessel in two and a half hours.
Dropping off the Lancers would be a relatively costly maneuver in terms of time, since the Droid Destroyer had adjusted its course to prevent the Pride from maximizing any potential gravity slingshot around the planet to aid in its pursuit.
Toto’s gunships were fast enough to intercept the Destroyer, but even a damaged Destroyer would prove more than a match for the trio of small Sundered craft.
It seemed it would be a close-run thing, so Middleton sat back in his chair and considered his options as the Lancer deployment clock ticked down from one hour, five minutes.
“You have your missions,” Sergeant Gnuko said to the two groups of armored Lancers standing at the base of the Shuttle’s lowered cargo ramp. “The smaller group of droids appears to have landed near a fusion plant; they will have already infiltrated the facility by the time your team arrives,” he said, fixing Lu Bu with a hard look. “Civilian casualties must be avoided, but we have every reason to believe the droids mean to overload the fusion reactor—that means that the two hundred sixty on-site technicians will be killed and the fusion plant will be reduced to rubble. But more importantly, the generators must remain online or the city’s bunker shield will fall—exposing nearly twenty thousand unarmed civilians to those droids. You need to keep the plant online, is that understood?”
Lu Bu fought against the knot which had formed in her throat as she nodded. “Yes, Sergeant Gnuko.”
Gnuko held her with his gaze for a moment before nodding in satisfaction and turning to Atticus, “Your team will deploy in the primary settlement on the northern continent. The shielded bunkers at the event center appear to have been activated, so collateral damage should be minimized now that the majority of the populace has taken refuge within those bunkers. Root out those droids, but your mission will take place inside a civilian center—that means you need to exercise caution. Is that understood?”
Atticus jutted his chin forward. “Understood,” he said, and the two men stood locked in a silent battle of wills for several seconds before Gnuko turned back to Lu Bu, whose heart had begun to beat with a familiar rhythm which had always presaged an important contest.
“Intel says you’ll have no more than eight droids to deal with at the fusion plant,” he said heavily, “so your team of hand-picked Lancers will deploy via grav-sled.”
Lu Bu’s eyes went wide for a moment; she had only just completed the initial training for grav-sleds herself and her team had only done a handful of simulations using the devices. But she stoically schooled her features, “Yes, Sergeant.”
Gnuko nodded as he gave the other three members of her group an appraising look. He flashed her an approving nod as he turned to Atticus, “Your team of twenty Lancers will deploy in groups of four to predetermined grids spread across the main settlement. You’ll coordinate your movement with the shuttle, which will provide aerial support and tactical updates to the team. Again,” he said as he set his jaw, “the civilians should be in the bunkers, but I want you to exercise extreme caution regardless. We’re reading just over t
wenty individual droid signals scattered throughout the city, and you can anticipate that they will execute a terror op. That means they’ll be looking to cause civilian casualties, which is precisely what you need to avoid.”
Atticus lowered his head and sneered, “I do not need to be reminded of civilians.”
“That’s for me to decide,” Gnuko snapped, “is that clear?”
Atticus took a sharp breath before exhaling and nodding stiffly, “Yes.”
“Good,” Gnuko said before signaling for the shuttle to begin its pre-flight launch sequence, “Captain Middleton wishes you all ‘good hunting’ and that will do for me, too. Move out!”
“Sir!” Lu Bu acknowledged before gesturing for her smaller team to file into the shuttle. First Kratos, who had barely fit into the largest suit of power armor the Pride’s armory held, filed into the craft. He was followed by Cassius, who had proven remarkably good with a rifle during simulated training. The last member of the team was a man named Homer. He had proven reliable during simulated missions, and Lu Bu knew that her four man team would need a dependable rear guard which she thought he was qualified to provide.
These particular droids seemed craftier than the previous ‘tribe’ she had encountered in the hyper dish junction. Those droids had literally flung themselves at the Pride’s crew, but the intelligence which they had gathered on their previous mission suggested that this particular tribe would not only prove more potent on a droid-by-droid basis, but that they were capable of employing complex tactics.
With Kratos, Cassius, and Homer seated, Lu Bu checked the grav-sleds and found them to be in working order. She took a deep breath as Atticus’ Lancers filed into their seats, and when Atticus himself passed her he cast a superior look down at her before joining his warriors and fastening his seat harness.
Lu Bu did a head count and found the number to be correct at twenty four, so she slapped the button which would close the shuttle’s cargo ramp.
After it had locked shut, she made her way to her own seat, her power-armored footfalls clumping loudly against the shuttle’s duralloy deck plates.
An hour later, Lu Bu checked her team to ensure that they were secured to their grav-sleds properly. When they all checked out, and their suits were set for low-pressure atmospheric operation, she activated her suit’s HUD and opened the ramp.
There was no rush of air as the ramp lowered and she looked down at the planet below. They were at a high altitude, but the grav-sleds were programmed to automatically bring their riders down to the surface in a gentle descent. In truth, all a grav-sled rider needed to do was hold on and keep their sled from running into her fellows.
“Sound off,” she said as she fought against the butterflies which had apparently formed a tornado in her gut.
“Kratos—clear,” the one-eyed man said, his voice unnaturally ‘thin’ as a result of the com-link’s audio filters.
“Cassius—clear,” Cassius followed promptly, and she could hear a note of trepidation in his voice but it was accompanied by a familiar resolve which she shared.
“Homer—clear,” the final member of her team called out.
Lu Bu took a breath, “Bu—clear. Team Lu: follow me!”
She gripped her grav-sled, which was standing upright before her in a position matched by those of her fellows, and she leaned forward. At first the sled leaned ponderously, then it tilted downward and before it had reached a forty five degree angle she placed her feet in the stirrups. As soon as she did so, the sled seemingly shot out the stern of the shuttle.
Lu Bu’s grip tightened instinctively as the sled’s nose continued to turn toward the ground. She checked her team’s status and felt a surge of pride as her HUD’s three dimensional graphic showed that they had fallen out of the shuttle in a picture-perfect line at equidistant spacing.
She pulled up on her grav-cart, which was one of the few real control methods available to her that would slow her descent. “Form line,” she snapped.
The other three began to manipulate their grav-sleds but it took far, far longer for them to achieve anything resembling a rank line. But when they had done so, she checked their trajectory and saw that they were almost perfectly on target.
Time seemed to go by far too quickly, and before she knew it the sled’s final approach alarm sounded. She checked their altitude and saw that they were one kilometer from the surface.
“Prepare for braking,” she ordered, and one by one the acknowledgment icons lit up on the HUD, starting with Kratos and followed at a significant delay by Cassius and Homer.
The grav-sleds began to brake as their anti-grav generators increased their output to compensate for the inertia of the descent.
She felt a violent jolt as the final braking deceleration cycle initiated, but to her shock Kratos’ grav-sled failed to brake with the rest of the team.
“Kratos,” she snapped, “emergency brake!”
His acknowledgment rune flashed twice, then a third time, followed by his static-laden voice, “No good.”
She cursed under her breath, “Brace yourself; your suit should cushion the hit.”
His acknowledgment icon flashed again, and she watched as his sled hurtled toward the ground at several times the speed of the others.
She winced as his grav-sled slammed into the ground and slid at least fifty meters before coming to a stop, but not before hurling Kratos’ power-armored bulk several meters off-tangent where he, too, came to a stop.
The rest of the sleds came to a relatively smooth stop but they, too, tore deep gashes in the soft dirt of the ground. It was a jarring experience, but Lu Bu—and, she suspected, the rest of her team—had experienced far worse during training.
Lu Bu removed her feet from the stirrups of the grav-sled and called in a raised voice, “Sound off!” She wasted no time waiting for their replies as she made for Kratos’ position with long, heavy footfalls as her duralloy boots left deep impressions in the soil of the planet.
Cassius and Homer’s acknowledgment icons flashed, and she came to a stop at Kratos’ side just as he began to stir. He rolled over and she saw that, aside from his blaster rifle having been ruined—thankfully without explosive consequences—his gear appeared more or less intact.
“Are you good?” she asked, unable to find the precise words she wished to speak on such short notice.
“Aye,” Kratos replied as he slowly gathered his power-armored bulk beneath himself. He got to his feet and checked his ruined blaster rifle, which had been locked onto his suit’s back plate during the descent, and snorted in derision, “What I would give for my hammer.”
“Form up,” Lu Bu called over the team’s private channel, “and switch to frequency Omega.”
One by one, the team complied and when they had gotten into formation she drew her vibro-blade and offered it to Kratos, who had already drawn his boarding axe. “You fight with two?”
Kratos shrugged and accepted the blade, which was just under three feet long, and placed it in his right hand while gripping the axe with his left.
Lu Bu sighted in on their destination and range-checked it, finding they were just over a kilometer and a half from the site. “Move out!” she barked and they began to march toward the fusion reactor facility, which from their current distance looked like a perfectly tranquil power plant.
But Lu Bu knew all too well that appearances could be deceiving.
The four man Lancer team arrived at the security fence and Lu Bu quickly saw signs of battle. There was a pair of hovercraft bearing heavy scorch marks on their hulls not far from the main gate of the facility, and the small security checkpoint at that gate-house was a smoldering ruin.
Lu Bu shouldered her blaster rifle, and she saw both Cassius and Homer do likewise. “Droids move fast in open,” she said warily, “but when fighting they move slow.”
“It is hard to move with stealth in these suits,” Kratos said bitterly, causing Lu Bu to snap a look of consternation in his direction.
He clearly read her disapproval because he added, “Stealth is invaluable against a fortified enemy.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic, so instead she said, “Kratos you take center; Cassius take right; Homer cover rear; this one take right.” She had been working hard to modify her speech patterns, especially since Doctor Middleton had become her roommate, but during tense situations she often reverted to her more familiar phraseology.
Acknowledgment icons flashed and the team spread out before advancing on the facility’s main entry. The gate was huge and appeared to be made of solid duralloy that was over two feet thick. The fusion reactor facility was supposedly one of the most heavily-fortified facilities on the colony, but the colony was a peaceful, scientific outpost. So ‘heavily-fortified’ was clearly a relative term if a group of eight droids had managed to gain entry without, apparently, having suffered any losses.
She checked the quartet of ion grenades fastened to her belt as she crept up on the door leading to the bowels of the power plant.
After her team had achieved their entry positions—more or less, anyway—she silently signaled for them to follow her into the large, industrial-scale corridor which led down into the bowels of the facility.
As she moved forward, the lights went out and she froze briefly, scanning her line of sight for any movement. When nothing emerged, she continued moving down the ramp until coming to the end, where the remnants of a relatively normal-looking industrial door lay in a deformed pile of metal wreckage.
She looked inside the facility and saw a pair of human bodies lying motionless in pools of their own blood. Lu Bu scanned the interior of the large, cavernous chamber—which was apparently Reactor Number Two, judging by the markings present on the catwalks suspended above what she assumed to be the reaction chamber—and saw a flicker of motion.
Up The Middle (Spineward Sectors: Middleton's Pride Book 2) Page 14
