“What now?” Hooke asked.
Glancing at his sensor display, Salazar answered, “Well, there's nothing we can do until someone picks us up, and I suspect that's going to be a little while. How good are you at chess?”
“I beat the computer every time.”
“I bet you do,” he said, shaking his head. “Call up a board. Let's see if you can beat a human.”
Chapter 10
Cooper shook his head in disbelief as he looked at the sensor display, glancing across at his wife, similarly in awe of the occasion. Ten trajectory tracks curved towards the station, launched from five ships, all fully loaded with assault troops. He glanced across at his insignia, and shook his head. All of these lives were his responsibility. The platoon he had commanded for two years, that he had trained, was under the command of someone else for this mission, and Acting Ensign Gurung had made it perfectly clear that he expected the company commander to hold back from the action, to direct from the rear. Not that he had any intention of so doing.
Ryan stepped forward from the cabin, and asked, “How long until docking?”
“Four minutes,” Bradley replied. “Your fighters have knocked out the enemy satellite network, so we've got a clean run, all the way to the station. There doesn't seem to be anything in the way of defensive armament, so I think we're clear until we dock.”
“And after that?” he asked.
“That's his problem,” she answered, gesturing at Cooper.
“Take a look at this, Commander,” Cooper said, pointing at the viewscreen. “Take a good, long look. Ten shuttles, a hundred and twenty troops from the Confederation, the Consortium, the Free Peoples, the Koltoc. Three different races working together to free your people. The largest assault since the Interplanetary War.” Shaking his head, he continued, “I never thought I'd ever see anything like this, and I certainly never thought that I'd command it.”
“Signal from the station,” Bradley said, looking up from her panel. “They've given us an airlock that should provide a safe landing. Some insurgent forces have taken control of the lower deck.” Turning to Ryan, she added, “A Captain Kalb is in charge over there, from the Colonial Militia. Sound familiar.”
A smile broke out on Ryan's face, and he said, “Anton Kalb. He'd hoped to infiltrate the station in one of the work gangs, went on board a month before I left and disappeared. I guess he's chosen his moment to attack.”
“You'll be shaking hands in a couple of minutes,” she replied. “You'd better go back and see to your command squad, Lieutenant.”
Cooper made a face at her, then stepped back into the cabin. He'd unashamedly stolen First Squad to act as his escort, Major Segna added to liaise with the Free Peoples forces that made up the bulk of his company. Corporal Walpis was preparing them for battle, checking over their equipment and their weapons, Lance-Corporal Rhodes standing by the hatch, keeping an eye on the Neander.
“Docking in two minutes,” he said, as Ryan stepped in behind him. “This is the big one, people. The largest combined operation you're ever likely to take part in. As soon as we hit the deck, we're going to start carving out a beach-head, and...”
“Sir,” Walpis said, “Ensign Gurung suggested we should set up a command center and a communications network.”
“Indeed,” Cooper replied. “We've got at least three hundred people to save, Corporal, and we haven't got any time to waste. The massacre as already begun, though I rather hope we can provide a distraction...”
“Just like on the freighter,” Saltzman said, shaking his head.
Glaring at the grumbling trooper, Cooper continued, “There isn't enough shuttle capacity to get everyone off, and we can bet that the Xandari won't have provided escape pods for their slave laborers. We can't afford to lose this station, people. Right now all the squad and platoon leaders are giving you the same warning I am. Take this station intact.” He smiled, turned to Ryan, and added, “After all, the Xandari went to a lot of trouble to build the damn place. Someone might as well get some use out of it.”
“And for God's sake,” Walpis added, “watch your aim. We don't want any friendly fire today. If you see a Xandari, shoot to kill. Anyone else, don't fire unless fired upon.”
“Thirty seconds,” Bradley said.
“Major,” Cooper said, “shall we?”
“Certainly,” the gruff Neander replied with a smile, hefting a heavy rifle in his hands as he stepped to the hatch. This shuttle was to be the first to dock, despite the protestations of the platoon leaders, and Cooper braced himself at the hatch. If this was a trap, they'd have bare seconds to warn the rest of the company to escape, and they'd spend their lives to give their comrades a chance to live. Everyone in the shuttle knew that, and all of them had volunteered regardless. He'd have had a harder time preventing them from coming.
With a loud clang, the shuttle docked, the air pressure equalizing as the double hatches opened. Cooper raised his rifle, cautiously, then stepped forward. On the far side, a tall man with a thin mustache and neatly-cropped hair, wearing a battered jumpsuit, stepped forward, saluting as he approached.
“Captain Kalb, at your service, sir. I presume you must be Lieutenant Cooper.”
Cooper returned the salute, and replied, “I brought some friends to the party. I hope you don't mind.”
“I think we can accommodate them,” he said, as Ryan stepped through. The rebel leader jumped at Ryan, embracing him in a bear hug, and said, “You old bastard. We all thought you'd had it.”
“I could say the same about you,” Ryan replied with a smile.
“What's the situation?” Cooper asked.
“We're going to have company in a few minutes. I managed to get access to the surveillance system, so we've got a pretty good view of what's happening all across the station. As soon as they saw you coming, they sent their forces up. There's only a skeleton force left guarding the prisoners.” Shaking his head, he said, “We pulled out as many as we can, but we've got a lot of wounded down there.”
“Our medical teams are standing by,” Cooper said. Ensign Gurung jogged down the corridor towards him, snapping a salute as he approached. Looking past him, he saw streams of men rushing out from the airlocks, the shuttles hastily disgorging their loads onto the station.
“Rhodes,” Cooper said, “See that any wounded up here already are placed on shuttles for transfer back to Alamo. Walpis, I want you to take point in the assault. Don't let them make the attack they want, hit them before they can organize.”
“Yes, sir,” Gurung said. Kalb gave him some quick directions, and then the fearsome Espatier charged down a corridor, men rushing after him with weapons at the ready. Cooper longed to be with them, but he had other matters to deal with.
“Where's the command center?” he asked.
“One level up,” Kalb replied. “It's the only room in this area we don't hold. The duty crew closed the blast doors before we could grab it.”
“That's ours,” Cooper said. “Major, gather together the remainder of the troops and send them after First Platoon, under the senior platoon leader. You'll take command of the assault. Spread out over a wider area, keep them guessing. We've got the numbers, we might as well use them to the full.”
“Yes, sir,” Segna replied.
“And keep your damn head down, Major. We don't want any ricochets off that hard skull of yours today.” Clapping his friend on the shoulder, he turned to Kalb, and asked, “What forces do you have?”
“Five militiamen, and about forty with improvised weapons.” With a shrug, he added, “This would have been a pretty short rebellion if you hadn't arrived, Lieutenant.”
Nodding, Cooper said, “Put your second-in-command in one of the casualty shuttles, and have him report back to Alamo to act as liaison. The rest can spread out to guard the shuttles and help get wounded back. You've won your part of the fi
ght. Now it's our turn.” As Kalb yelled brief orders to a cluster of men at the far side of the corridor, Cooper turned to Walpis.
“We're going to take the command center. Ghaison, Medodkis, I want you to bring our spacesuits with you.”
“We're not going to need them for the attack, sir.”
“Not yet we're not,” Cooper replied. “Bring them along.”
“We're all set,” Kalb reported. “Ready to go.” One of his troopers moved into the shuttle, the first of the wounded already on board, and he added, “Need a guide?”
“I thought you'd never ask. Lead the way, Captain.”
Kalb turned down a side corridor, running towards a ceiling hatch at the far end. Cooper struggled to keep pace with the militiaman, the rest of his troops straggled behind him. At the end of the line, Ghaison and Medodkis struggled with their loads, complaining with their eyes as they dragged the heavy equipment behind them. Ryan raced after them, helping with their burden, his own suit draped over his shoulder.
“What's a Lieutenant doing commanding a Major, anyway?” Kalb asked.
“Fun games with the rank structure, Captain. I'll be happy to show you an org chart once all of this is over.”
Gesturing at the ceiling, Kalb said, “That takes us right in front of the door. They don't have anyone guarding it, but with the blast doors closed, they don't need to.”
“Don't worry. I've got a plan.” Turning to his troops, Cooper saw an airlock on the far wall, no shuttle attached to it, and said, “Leave the suits here for the moment. Rhodes, you're rear guard. Let's go.”
They climbed the ladder in four quick steps, the recalcitrant hatch pushing open at the second try. Kalb was the first to the upper level, dropping to the ground to guard against feared enemy fire, and Cooper followed, jogging to the door. As he'd hoped, it was a familiar design, Triplanetary in origin, stolen like the bulk of the Xandari technology. Pulling out his communicator, he searched up and down the frequencies.
“Cooper to Harper. Do you read me?”
“Loud and clear, Gabe. What's up?”
“I've got a door that needs opening. Triplanetary locking mechanism. Can do?”
“Not a problem. Just put in a datalink, and I'll do the rest.”
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a connecting cable, plugging his communicator into the door mechanism. The display started to go crazy, wildly flashing numbers and symbols, and he gestured for the squad to get into position on either side of the door, pulling out a flash-bang and placing his finger on the trigger.
“Ready in five seconds,” Harper said. “Now!”
The door slid open, and Cooper lopped his grenade inside, shielding his eyes from the blast. The occupants were caught by complete surprise, and a dozen well-aimed shots rained onto the Xandari within, a single terrified human cowering in a corner, wide-eyed as his rescuers burst into the room. A tinkling of broken glass came from one of the consoles, McBride cursing as his shot went wide, the man it was meant for already dying on the floor.
Cooper stepped over the bodies, moving to the prisoner, vicious wounds on his face and arms, bruises all across his body. Donegan moved forward with his medical kit while Cooper stepped over to the security systems, the panels flashing scenes of battles taking place all across the station. Corporal Tokarova leading his men into a column of Xandari scouts, Ensign Gurung dragging a prisoner out of a room, one of the Neander paramedics getting to work while the advance continued. Everywhere, his men were fighting and dying, and he was not among them.
Turning to Kalb, he asked, “Do you have people to crew these consoles?”
“Down by the shuttles,” he replied.
“Get them up here, on the double.” Racing back to the door, he snatched his communicator, and said, “Kris, you still there?”
“I'm here.”
Moving to the communications panel, he threw a switch, and said, “This won't be much of a test of your skills, but I've opened up the firewalls. I want you to knock out all of the systems access in Xandari-controlled areas. Everywhere except this command center and the landing docks.”
“Give me two minutes.”
“Disable all external sensor feeds, and I mean all.”
“Wait a minute,” Ryan said, “We'll need them to set up any sort of traffic control. There are a lot of shuttles going back and forth.”
“Do it, Kris.” Turning to the Copernican, he added, “I think you've guessed what the next step is.”
“I haven't,” Kalb replied.
Shaking his head, Ryan said, “Once the Xandari realize they can't hold this station, they'll try and destroy it, or at the very least, kill all the prisoners. We can stop the first by shutting down all of their systems access. Even if they start blowing things up, they don't control anything sensitive now.” Looking at Cooper, he added, “They could still complete their massacre, though, unless we can do something to stop them.”
“You're going outside,” Kalb said, nodding. “Down the hull, and in through one of the emergency airlocks.”
“It should catch them completely by surprise, especially with our forces pushing so strongly on all fronts.” He looked at the monitors again, watching his troopers at work, his face falling as he saw a burst of rifle fire bring down an advancing column of Neander. “Their command-and-control will be back there, and we have a chance of taking that out as well. We can end this pretty damn quickly if we move right now.”
“I'm coming with you,” Ryan said. Turning to Kalb, he added, “Ant, you'll have to stay here. You're no good in a suit, and you know it.”
“So did the Xandari after my first time on the hull,” the soldier replied. “I'll ride shotgun from our end, and arrange for a couple of shuttles to be on standby outside with medical teams. The people you rescue are going to need immediate assistance.”
With one last glance at the monitors, Cooper said, “Let's move.”
The squad purposefully walked down the corridor, dropping through the hatch to their waiting spacesuits, passing a paramedic heading up to the control center, leading a line of technicians. Cooper picked up his suit, carefully pulling it on, running through the usual test cycles. A mission update flickered across his heads-up display as he locked his helmet into position, alerting him that First Platoon had taken the habitation levels. If he was judging it correctly, that meant that more than half the station was now under allied control.
He was the first to the airlock, followed by Ryan, and worked the familiar controls with a smile. Effectively, the Xandari had built the Copernicans a large Triplanetary fleet base, here in orbit, a perfect staging area for Commodore Marshall's fleet when it arrived. Behind him, the troopers moved into pairs, ready to step out onto the hull.
The outer hatch opened and he kicked outside, playing his thrusters to keep him close to the station. With the external sensors disabled, the only way they could be detected was if someone looked out of a viewport. That didn't stop the feeling of unease he felt as he glided smoothly down the hull, careful to keep clear of airlocks, following the glistening line of solar panels that ran along the perimeter of the station.
His squad followed in a long, trailing line, all the way back to the airlock, silently sliding towards their target. All of this looked familiar, and if they hadn't made any major changes, there ought to be a maintenance airlock a couple of hundred meters away, underneath the rotating hull, opening right into the supply levels.
A flash of new data burst onto his display, more tactical updates from his command. The battle had degenerated quickly into a series of firefights running across a dozen decks, fire teams and squads facing their opponents, trading shot for shot as they pushed their way through the lines. The Xandari had nowhere to go, and only stubbornness was keeping them in the fight this long. Any normal commander would have surrendered long since, perhaps attempted to use his prisoners as
hostages for safe conduct out of their territory, but the Xandari didn't think that way. That was their greatest weakness, and one he hoped to exploit to the full.
The airlock was there, just as he hoped, and he swung in towards it, tapping the release control. It failed to open, and he fumbled into a pouch for a datarod, sliding it into position to engage a series of intrusion programs, opening the hatch by brute force. It would almost certainly alert the Xandari to their presence, but hopefully without giving them any time to prepare a defense.
Finally, the hatch slid open and he scrambled inside, followed by Ryan, working the emergency cycle as the airlock pressurized, the hiss of air audible inside his helmet. The Copernican moved to take his helmet off, but Cooper shook his head, stepping through the inner hatch, still wearing his cumbersome spacesuit.
That act saved his life, as a trio of bullets ripped through the air, slamming into him and sending him falling to the floor. Ryan fired a snap shot that brought down one of the waiting Xandari, and Cooper recovered quickly enough to deal with the other two, a pair of loud reports heralding their death. He struggled out of his suit as the next pair of troopers, Rhodes and Saltzman, stepped inside, then ran to the large double doors at the far side of the room, pushing boxes and crates aside in his haste, tossing the pieces of his ruined suit away as he advanced.
The cries of the wounded greeted him as he stepped out into the corridor, a pile of dead bodies, mostly Koltoc, dumped by the wall, the remaining crewmen struggling to help them. Cooper looked out at them, took a deep breath, then turned back to the corridor, rifle in hand and vengeance in his heart. Donegan shook his head and pulled out his communicator, ordering the medical shuttles to dock, while the rest of the squad followed Cooper.
Gunshots rang out ahead of them, but he had no intention of seeking the safety of cover. Men were dying, all around him, and he was going to stop them, no matter what it took. A lone Xandari, heading heedlessly out into the corridor, died as half a dozen bullets tore into him at once, most of the squad reacting quickly to the presence of their hated enemy.
Battlecruiser Alamo: Operation Damocles Page 9
