Storm of Vengeance

by Jay Allan

  The accuracy of the enemy assault might have cost her the battle right then and there, if her people hadn’t matched and even exceeded the First Imperium marksmanship. Her missiles, and to a lesser extent, Chandra’s, bracketed target after target, melting hulls and blasting the enemy ships with blistering levels of radiation. All told, the two sides had hurt each other roughly equally. West knew that was a win for her people, since they’d only had nuclear warheads to match the enemy’s antimatter bombs. But, she also knew the gods of war did not adjust for advantages and disadvantages. One side would win the battle, and one side only, and the victory would be no less complete if it was won by superior weaponry than by tactics or determination.

  “We need to close faster.” She’d been keeping her fleet together, trying to hold the formation together, save only for the most damaged ships. But, now she realized Chandra’s force would be wiped out if she didn’t get there and add the firepower of her batteries to his. “All ships are to engage their maximum available thrust. We need to get whatever we can into range…now!”

  “Understood, Admiral.” Sampson turned toward her station and relayed the orders. A few seconds later, Garret’s acceleration increased, and the bridge crew felt the equivalent of almost 5g. West’s flagship had been among her most fortunate vessels—or perhaps more accurately, she’d benefitted from the calm brilliance of her crew as the gunnery stations intercepted every missile that came close. One warhead had detonated about two and a half kilometers out, but that had only caused some minor damage to surface scanners. The ships of her fleet were in varying conditions, but the flagship was one hundred percent ready for battle.

  “Course adjustment, Commander…Garret only. Vector 230.012.309.” West’s eyes were fixed straight ahead toward the display. Three enemy battleships had targeted Cain, and she knew the battleship wouldn’t hold out long against those odds. She had to get there and join in the fight. “And get me Admiral Chandra.” Garret was close enough now, so the communications lag would just be annoying rather than crippling.

  “Course adjustment laid in.” A moment later. “Cain on our line, Admiral.”

  “Raj…hang in there. We’re on our way.”

  “Admiral West?”

  The voice wasn’t Chandra’s. It was familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  “Admiral Chandra is wounded, Admiral,” the voice continued.

  West paused another few seconds, and then she realized…

  “Captain Compton?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m at Cain’s tactical station right now.” A pause, then nervously, “Actually, I guess I’m in command…of Cain, at least. I’m not sure who’s in charge of the fleet now.”

  West stared forward, her frozen concentration blown. What the hell was Terrance Compton doing at that station? She knew Harmon had given him a captain’s commission…and promised him a combat position…but how could he have sent him on this mission?

  Shit…

  She was disoriented for a moment, struggling to stay focused…but then she regained her control.

  “Well, Captain Compton…I guess you’re in command of the fleet…at least until I get there and take over.” A pause. She almost said something about his father, tried to put together some words of encouragement…but then she realized every officer had to be himself. “You’ve got the training, Terrance…and you’re a good man. Keep that fleet in the fight until my ships get there…you hear me?”

  “Yes, Admiral.” His voice was shaky, but there was strength in it, too.

  She just hoped it was enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Planet G-48 II

  Somewhere Below the Surface

  Earth Two Date 02.27.43

  Cameron was firing down the vast open chamber, his assault rifle blasting out bursts of a dozen shots at a time. The battle had been going on for over an hour, the enemy seemingly throwing everything it had at the Marines. He was exhausted, despite the steady dose of stims, and he was trying to keep his mind away from the losses his people had suffered.

  But, Cameron saw a ray of hope in the deadly carnage. The intensity of the enemy assault only confirmed his guess that his people had reached the deeply-buried storage units, the great magnetic bottles that held tons of antimatter, keeping particles of the dangerous substance from any cataclysmic interactions with regular matter. For all the defenses the Regent had in place around its precious treasure, Cameron knew such a storage facility was inherently vulnerable.

  Cameron had taken advantage of the destruction of the enemy’s jamming mechanisms to contact his scattered groups of Marines, and he credited the improved comms with a lot of the assault’s success. He’d called down a large number of reinforcements, and he knew there was no way the advance would have gotten so far without the help. Now, however, he was hesitating on calling more reserves. If his people were indeed standing in the center of the storage facility, it was time to do what they’d come to do…and getting his Marines out of the tunnels and off the planet before detonating tons of antimatter had become crucial.

  “Major…get two of your people over to that far flank. We don’t want any of those bots moving up and getting another line of fire on us.” His mind was jerking around wildly, from one thing to the next, trying to keep track of everything from the withdrawal he was about to order to the continuing firefight going on around him.

  “Yes, sir.” Stanton stood where he was, his bulky suit still, and Cameron knew the officer was on the comm, passing on the order…something that became even clearer, when two of the Marines positioned near that end of the small line jumped up and moved down to the end of the giant bulkhead they were all using for cover. Stanton was doing a reasonable job hiding the fact that he was wounded—as far as Cameron could tell, badly wounded. In any other operation, Cameron would have relieved his second in command and sent him back to the field hospital. Only there were no Marines to spare, not now…and there wasn’t a field hospital either. The atmosphere was toxic, the temperature far too hot to sustain life for long, and the radiation levels were lethal. The only hospital Stanton was going to get to this side of retrieval and landing on one of the orbiting ships was the one built into his suit.

  Fortunately, that was the most sophisticated portable med-system ever developed, and Cameron suspected his officer would be dead already without it. He had no doubt Stanton was in a lot of pain, nor that every move was a colossal effort for the officer…but he also figured his number two could make it, at least if he was able to get him out.

  Cameron’s mind was racing. His first thoughts had been to gather as much strength as possible and continue to push forward. But now, as he looked around and realized the great cylinders in the room were very likely the storage units his people had been searching for, he felt another hesitation about bringing more of his Marines—those who had survived the fighting throughout the facility—down deeper.

  Farther from an escape that already seemed hopeless enough…

  “Status on that thing, Lieutenant?” He’d had two of his Marines setting up a portable scanner to confirm whether or not the giant constructs in the room were, in fact, full of antimatter. The enemy’s fire had been restrained, which had added to his belief that his Marines had indeed reached what they had sought. First Imperium warbots were not known for the delicate way they conducted themselves…but Cameron was pretty sure the fire coming in was a fraction of what it could have been. Should have been.

  If those robots were not trying to avoid vulnerable targets, we’d be eating three or four times this much fire…

  “We’ve got it up now, sir. Just a few seconds, and we should have some readings.”

  Cameron nodded, forgetting as he sometimes did that it was a pretty ineffectual gesture when fully armored. “Very well,” he added, almost as an afterthought. His mind had already moved forward, feeling the fateful decision coming down on him.

  What to do next.

  “General, those cylinders…whatever they’r
e made of, they seem to block scanner beams.” The Marine at the scanning setup sounded frustrated. “We can’t get a look inside, no matter how much power we pour on.”

  Cameron felt deflated for a few seconds. But, then the Marine at the scanner continued. “But, we’re picking up energy readings anyway. It almost doesn’t make sense. We can’t penetrate the casings with our beams, but the scanner is still reporting signs of internal energy levels, substantial ones.

  Cameron’s excitement returned. The First Imperium and its dark energy infused metals were still a mystery to human science. Even the Mules had been unable to come up with more than a few fringe hypotheses. But, there was no doubt the materials were largely scanproof.

  And, if there is enough energy in those cylinders to give off a signature anyway, through all that blockage…

  “That has to be it.” Antimatter.

  Cameron wasn’t sure, of course…he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Still, he hadn’t been willing to risk everything on destroying the cylinders before he had those readings…

  But, he was now.

  “Alright, Lieutenant Livermore…I want those charges set up right now.” He hesitated and looked around the edge of the massive chunk of metal his people were using for cover. They were about sixty meters from the closest cylinder. Close enough to destroy anything with twenty kilotons.

  Anything we know of…

  His mind raced, the losses, the suffering, the desperate, hurried retreat he hoped his people could make to the surface…only to see the cylinders survive the explosion. For the mission to end in failure.

  No, he couldn’t take any chances. None that were within his power to avoid.

  “Wait,” he said, pausing for a few seconds after. “Not here…we’ve got to push closer. I want each of those charges right next to one of the cylinders.” He took a deep breath, focusing his determination. “And, I mean right next to them.”

  He reached behind him, pulling his assault rifle around again. “Major…you will stay here with the explosives teams. You are to move forward toward the two closest cylinders as soon as we’ve cleared the way. All teams are to set up and arm the charges the instant they’re in position.”

  “Yes, sir.” Stanton didn’t sound happy about staying in the rear…but Marines didn’t argue with orders, not in the middle of battle.

  “Alright…everybody else, on me. We’re moving forward, and we’re taking out everything in our way. There is no stopping, no hesitating. We need to get the bomb teams up to those cylinders…whatever it takes. Are you with me?” It was a needless question, he knew, but its purpose wasn’t to determine if his Marines would follow him. It was to fire them up, get them ready for the attack Cameron knew, for many of them, at least, would be their last.

  And, the roar that blasted through his speakers didn’t disappoint him.

  He took one more deep breath and tightened his armored fingers around the assault rifle. Then he lunged out, firing on full automatic, as he raced down the gargantuan chamber…heading toward the darkness at the far end, and right into the enemy.

  * * *

  “Admiral…we just got a flash transmission from the surface. General Cameron was able to get a message through.” A pause, then: “He thinks they found the antimatter storage units!” Sampson was a disciplined officer, but she couldn’t hide her excitement at the news.

  Strand was a bit more circumspect. She’d come to G48 to see the antimatter factory destroyed, of course, and there didn’t seem to be any more certain way to achieve that that blasting open containment vessels and releasing kilograms—if not tons—of antimatter to annihilate with the regular matter all around. But, a report was not a certainty, and she still harbored worries that Cameron was wrong.

  Or, perhaps it was more her almost relentless certainty that every Marine she’d landed on the planet would die there. Part of her knew the importance of destroying the factory, and of all her people had sacrificed to make it a possibility—not to mention whatever nightmare Erika West and her fleet were enduring—but she realized on some level, she’d been telling herself it couldn’t work, preparing herself for failure.

  Now, success seemed possible…and all she could think of were the Marines, the men and women who’d voluntarily gone down there, and marched their way down, deep below the surface of a world so alien, the only comparisons that came to a human mind thinking about it were various incarnations of hell.

  “Very well,” she said softly, realizing she still didn’t believe Cameron’s people could complete their mission, no matter what the communique said.

  “Admiral…General Cameron requests we begin evacuation operations of all surface forces.” A short pause. “He is also sending up any of the underground teams not involved in his immediate operations.”

  Strand listened to the words, and she understood. She didn’t know General Cameron well, but from everything she did know, she’d always suspected she would have liked him.

  Now, she was sure.

  “Bring the fleet to yellow alert, Commander. I want all ships with landing craft capable of getting down to the surface and back again to get them ready.” She could feel her resolve building, even as her doubts persisted. “I want medical teams on as many of the retrieval boats as possible.” A short pause. “And, I want everything ready to launch in fifteen minutes.”

  Sampson hesitated, but then she said, simply, “Yes, Admiral.”

  Strand knew her orders, and the timetable she’d given, were impossible. But, she didn’t care. All she could think of was Devon Cameron and the Marines with him down in that chamber so deep…so far from escape.

  And, in some small corner of her mind, she was beginning to believe Cameron’s people might actually succeed. She didn’t have a doubt in her mind the Marine general would pay for that victory with his life, however, and the last thing she was going to do was fail his final request. Fail to save as many of his Marines as she could.

  No…fifteen minutes might have seem impossible, but it’s God damned not, no matter what it takes.

  * * *

  “Surface command post reports retrieval boats inbound, Sir.”

  Cameron felt a smile forming on his face as the words, staticky and distorted, but understandable enough, at least after his AI had cleaned up the signal, poured out into his helmet. His Marines were going to get off the planet in time.

  Some of them, at least.

  “Very well, Sergeant. All stations are to sound withdrawal signals. Any Marines not down here with us, should be on their way to the surface.”

  “Yes, General.” If there was any hint of resentment about his ordering everyone out save for those in the cavern, he couldn’t detect it in the non-com’s voice.

  He knew Marines would still die beyond his immediate location. Half his people were already gone. More than that, probably. He’d regained some comms, but he still had units out of touch, and he suspected some of them, at least were still alive.

  They won’t be for long…not unless they get a signal soon and get the hell out…

  He pushed that out of his mind, though. There was nothing he could do, and the task in front of him had now become his obsession. All his people who’d died already, and those who were still going to…it was about them. The next hour or two would determine if they died for nothing…or to strike a blow to save their friends and loved ones.

  And, Devon Cameron was going to give everything he had to make sure it was the second option.

  Everything.

  The room was quiet, nothing save for the sounds of his Marines moving around and working on the charges. The fight had been a fierce one, a struggle that had seen few of his people come away from without a wound of some kind.

  Himself included.

  He’d managed to hide the severity of his injury, and cover up the effects with painkillers and stimulants. But, he was pretty sure of two things.

  One, he was going to keep himself functioning as long as it took to see the miss
ion completed…whatever it took.

  And, two, there was no way he was going to make it back up to the surface.

  He took a breath, ragged and full of fluid. Then, he turned toward the team setting up the second charge.

  “Status?” he said, trying to sound as normal as he could.

  “Ready, sir.” A short pause. “Setting up the charges was easy enough. The tough part was getting them synchronize. We want them both to blow, not for one to go off a few microseconds early, and blast the other one to bits before the reaction fires off.”

  “Are they synchronized now?” Cameron understood the problem, but he wasn’t sure he had a good grasp on what it took to address it.

  “The best we can manage down here, sir. There’s still a chance we’ll only get one blast—which should be enough, anyway—but I think we’ve got a good chance of both of them going at the same time.”

  “Alright…if you’re all finished, get your people together and get ready to head out to the surface. There isn’t much time.” Cameron glanced back toward the nearer charge, positioned just up against the large cylinder about three meters from where Cameron stood.

  “We’ve set the charges to detonate in one hour, and we’ve connected the activation switch to your channel. Your AI will activate the sequence on your command, and then it’s sixty minutes before they blow. They’re also rigged to go immediately if they pick up any energy readings or motion coming into the room. So, even if more enemy forces show up, they won’t have a chance to disarm the weapons.” Left unsaid was the fact that an early detonation would bring an instant a tragic end to any evacuation operations.