That brought a slow nod from his father, though it looked like it was being dragged out of him. “Yeah. Okay.” The corners of Warren’s lips turned upward. “The chance to command a supercarrier is kind of mind-blowing. They were the top-of-the-line badass ships, in my day. It’s a shame she’s the only one left.”
Caine spoke again, yanking Husher out of his thoughts. “What if Captain Keyes isn’t being held on the platform we’re headed toward?” Her voice was much softer, now.
Drawing in a long breath, Husher said, “It’s the one the Goliath is guarding. We have to assume that Keyes is a high-value enough detainee that they wouldn’t risk a ruse like parking the destroyer over the wrong platform.”
“If it is a ruse, we’re screwed.”
“I know that. But we just have to—”
“Roll the dice?”
Husher smiled, and Caine did too, for the first time in a while. “Yeah,” he said, his heart suddenly racing.
Piper’s voice cut into his helmet. “You’re nearing the platform.” They hadn’t had time to sync up the shuttle’s sensors with the ship they were riding in, and so Skids was relying on Piper to let them know the optimal time to leave the shuttle bay. And Piper was relying on Werner, who also had his eye on the engagement with the Goliath.
Is there any part of this mission that isn’t extremely risky? “How near is nearing, Piper? And what does our ride look like from the outside?”
“It’s taken a lot of damage. Hull breaches in several places. Honestly, I’m surprised it’s held together this long.”
“That would have been helpful to know a little earlier than this, Piper!”
Skids’s voice interrupted their conversation, then. “We’re getting a lot of billowing smoke inside the bay, sir. It’s affecting visibility. I mean, I can fly out of here by feel, but it’s not ideal.”
“Get us out of here!” Husher barked. “Now!”
“Roger that.”
The shuttle lurched forward, and the troop compartment’s display switched to provide them with a stomach-churning view of a smoke-choked shuttle bay, which they hurtled through.
Husher couldn’t see anything relevant through the billowing pillar that filled most of the screen, but hopefully Skids had access to a better view from the cockpit. I could kill him for even taking the time to put a visual feed on our display. Though it did fit Skids’s sick sense of humor.
They screamed out of the shuttle bay at a height that looked a mere three or four meters above the platform’s surface. A brilliant flash of light filled the display from behind, followed by pieces of the ship they’d just vacated speeding past them. Some of the shrapnel hit their shuttle, causing it to rock worryingly.
But Skids leveled them out, executing a surprisingly soft landing near what appeared to be an airlock leading into the prison.
“See?” the shuttle pilot said into Husher’s ear. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
The shuttle vibrated again, and the viewscreen switched automatically to show suited-up figures shooting at them from near the prison entrance.
“Let us out of here, Skids. If you want something to fly back to the Providence in, you’ll open that airlock right now.” He switched to a platoon-wide channel. “All right, everyone. Stay focused, and remember what we’re here for. There’s not one of us Captain Keyes hasn’t looked after at some point, so now we’re going to return the favor.”
“Oorah,” the marines shouted as one.
“Oh,” Husher said. “And someone grab that Gok.”
Chapter 73
Unfit
Warren stared dumbly at the computer before him, its function escaping him for the moment. He raised a finger to tap at it, then hesitated. No. I might… What? What might pawing at the computer do? The idea that it had an important purpose skittered around his brain as he tried to pin it down.
“Captain?”
He didn’t know who that woman was addressing, but the answer could provide Warren with some valuable clues about his current situation. So he waited, listening for the response.
“Captain!”
Wait. Is she talking to me?
He looked up to find a room full of faces, staring at him wearing distraught expressions. “Are you…?”
Shaking his head, context slowly seeped back into his brain. He was the captain. Captain of…the Providence! It all came rushing back. His son had left him in charge of the only supercarrier left in the galaxy. He’d trusted him.
“Yes,” he said. “Um…” Think, Warren. He was in the middle of a battle. Against…he glanced up at the large viewscreen, toward which every console was angled. Against a really large destroyer.
“What’s our capacitor charge?” he said. They seemed like very fine words to say. Just the right ones, in fact. What a relief to have found them.
“Enough to fire tertiaries,” the woman who’d spoken earlier answered slowly.
“Excellent. Fire tertiary lasers at the destroyer. Disrupt their aim, confuse their sensors.”
“Sir, that’s only likely to happen if we pair it with evasive movement, and even then it’s not considered a very effective tactic. What it’s much more likely to accomplish is disrupting communications between our own Condors.”
Warren ground his teeth. He’d discovered the perfect words for the situation, and now this woman dared to defy him. “I gave an order.”
The woman stood from her station. “And I’m belaying it. With the absence of a ship’s doctor, and as one of the ranking officers in the CIC, I am declaring you mentally unfit to command this vessel. You are relieved from duty, Warren Husher. Retire to your quarters at once.”
Even Warren could sense the tension as everyone watched to see how he would react. He became suddenly aware of the weight of the service pistol hanging in its holster from his belt. His eyes wandered to the woman’s hands, which were perched on her own belt. She’s ready to draw if I do. But I was always quick…
He shook his head to clear it. What am I thinking? He stood. “Yes,” he blurted, afraid he would do something rash unless he committed himself to a course of action. “I am unfit. You’re right. I’ll leave.”
The woman—Arsenyev, isn’t it?—slowly nodded, and waited until he walked to the CIC’s hatch.
He paused there. “Good luck,” he said, smiling a little.
That brought a curt nod from Arsenyev, who still watched him, her body rigid with readiness.
Warren left the CIC.
Chapter 74
High-Value Target
For some reason, the Goliath’s point defense weapon system had become less occupied, allowing her turrets to devote increased attention to the Condors swarming all around her.
Fesky’s HUD lit up with scarlet as two turrets painted her with a firing solution. Given her current trajectory, the only option left was to dive closer to the destroyer.
She took the opportunity to bury a row of kinetic impactors in her hull, but pulling away and avoiding the follow-up turret fire required the best guns-D flying of her life. Despite her intense focus, she couldn’t help registering it as four other Condors went down on her tactical display, one of them a member of the Divebombers.
When she finally succeeded in maneuvering to a safe distance, it did not elate her. It made her mad.
Slapping her transponder, she squawked, “Providence, what happened to our suppressive fire? Those turrets just took down four of my pilots, all because it suddenly had no Banshees to deal with.”
Arsenyev’s voice filled her helmet. “Apologies, Fesky. I have taken temporary command of the Providence. Warren Husher has been found unfit.”
At that, Fesky felt some of the weight she’d been carrying leave her. She didn’t relish seeing a great captain cast low, but Warren had been acting erratically since taking command of the Contest during the Vermillion Shipyards engagement. Also, Fesky had a lot of faith in Arsenyev.
“All right, then. In that case, let’s take down that b
east. Our shield ships are taking a severe beating, and I doubt they’ll hold together much longer. I’ve already lost too many Condors, and most of the pilots had no time to eject. We have limited supplies of both.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Arsenyev said.
Before Fesky could speak again, her cockpit washed red. The Goliath had sent a stream of missiles at her Condor, no doubt having identified her as a high-value target after the fancy flying she’d used to escape getting taken out moments before.
Fesky gunned the engine, laying the Ocharium boost on thick. That gained her some distance, allowing her to spin her fighter around its short axis and start picking off some of the guided bombs.
The Providence saw her plight and chipped in, sending Banshees to intercept some of the pursuing projectiles. Unfortunately, the Goliath’s captain was too smart to bunch the missiles together, meaning Arsenyev had to spend one Banshee for each one neutralized. They didn’t have an unlimited supply of Banshees, either.
Whipping her Condor around once more, Fesky gunned the engines, making for the nearest shield ship, a corvette. Because of the time she’d taken to fire back at them, the remaining missiles were closing on her.
The Condor zipped toward the corvette’s nose, and just before she drew flush with it, she rotated again, directing her engines parallel with the hull. This will hurt. Fesky punched it, soaking up every drop of acceleration her engines would give her and hugging the corvette’s hull. Intense g-forces bore down on her, and merely remaining conscious required a high-intensity workout.
But the maneuver worked. Most of the missiles collided with the bow of the corvette, disintegrating it. A couple of them veered around it, continuing to give chase, but Fesky brought her Condor around and easily finished them off.
She took a deep breath, feeling utterly exhausted after the effort escaping the missiles had required. But this wasn’t over. Looping around the corvette, she rejoined the battle, beginning by shooting down a pair of missiles chasing another of her pilots.
“Thanks, Madcap.” It was Airman Bradley, who just a few short weeks ago had counted among her most vicious critics.
“Any time.”
Her tactical display showed more and more Condors falling to the Goliath’s expert marksmanship. And the Providence wasn’t spared from the barrage. The enemy ship’s captain made such efficient use of his arsenal that he had enough to spare for defense as well as offense against both the Condors and their supercarrier.
I don’t even want to consider what will happen once those shield ships go.
But she needed to consider it. Because when the enemy succeeded in destroying them, the Providence and her Condors would become completely exposed to every turret on the orbital defense platform.
And that would be a reality soon.
Chapter 75
No Going Back
Inside Hades’ squat corridors, Husher couldn’t leverage his Winger marines’ ability to fly. Even so, they complemented the humans well. With their shorter statures, the other marines could easily fire over the Wingers’ heads.
After overcoming the defenders guarding the airlock, the section they found themselves in appeared to have an administration function. That said, it had no shortage of prison guards and security personnel, pressing back hard against the marine incursion, refusing to give an inch. They’d had ample advance notice of the marines’ arrival, and they’d prepared accordingly.
Even the prison’s offices had steel-reinforced hatches as doors, and so Husher set his marines to making good use of them, opening them into the hallway and using them as cover.
It quickly became an old-fashioned slugfest. Neither side seemed eager to use grenades or other explosives. The guards had likely been ordered not to by their bosses, so as not to cause undue damage to the prison, and for Husher’s part, he didn’t want to risk depressurizing the entire section. He and his marines would be fine in that event, but if Keyes was here, he almost certainly wasn’t wearing a pressure suit.
Husher popped out from behind the door he used for cover, fired off a single round, and then had to withdraw again.
“There’s too many of them,” Caine said from the other side of the corridor, behind a door of her own. “If this takes any longer, they’ll no doubt get even more backup. We need to break them now. I hate to say it, but I think it’s time to release the Gok.”
“Music to my ears. Cover me?”
Caine nodded, pivoting around the hatch and sending suppressive fire at the enemy. For his part, Husher crouched and ran several hatches back, where Wahlburg stood watch over the gurney they’d dragged inside the prison with them. Husher nodded at the sniper, who held the tranq gun at the ready. Wahlburg was the only one Husher trusted with a shot that important, if it needed to be taken.
As far as Husher knew, the prison guards weren’t aware of Tort’s presence. Switching to a two-way channel, he addressed the Gok, who was straining tirelessly against the nanofabric straps holding him in place. “Tort. How are you feeling?”
“Am ready!” Tort bellowed into Husher’s helmet, making him wince and turn down the volume.
He felt bad for returning the alien to this agitated state, but they clearly needed him right now. Besides, the Gok had asked Keyes to help find a cure for the virophage, and Keyes couldn’t do that while imprisoned.
“My marines are all taking cover behind hatches. You’ll see them as you pass. You must not harm them. I need you to focus all of your rage on the guards attacking us. We won’t leave you to confront them alone—we’ll be moving up along with you. If you harm a single man or woman under my command, Wahlburg will take you down, and I guarantee you’ll get no help from us in curing the virophage that infects you. Is that clear?”
“Clear!” The Gok thrust upward with his fists, causing the straps to creak. He did it again. “Clear!”
God help us all. “Release him,” he told Wahlburg.
The sniper nodded, reaching across the hulking alien to unfasten the restraints, first those holding down his legs, and then his torso.
“Your energy weapon is tied underneath the gurney,” Husher told the Gok, just before Tort surged upward.
Instead of reaching underneath the gurney to free his gun, Tort picked up the entire thing with one hand and slammed it against the ceiling. That done, he ran toward the enemy with the steel-reinforced contraption held over his head, raining sparks down into the corridor.
Exchanging a brief glance with Wahlburg, whose eyes were large behind his faceplate, Husher switched to a wide channel. “Everybody, move! Back up Tort!”
The marines rushed from cover and fired around the Gok at any targets that exposed themselves.
One of the prison guards emerged from behind a hatch to fire at the charging Gok, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off of his titanium-plated armor. Tort flung the gurney at the hatch protecting the guard, and it slammed shut, knocking the guard off his feet. A second later, Tort reached the hatch on the opposite side of the hallway. He booted it closed, and the crunch of bone came through Husher’s helmet audio, accompanied by a spurt of scarlet as the guard was crushed between the hatch and its frame.
Catching up to the gurney, Tort picked it up and ripped his directed-energy weapon from the thick ropes holding it in place. He threw the gurney down the hallway, catching a guard who had been popping out for another shot full in the face.
Tort reached the next set of hatches, kicked one shut, and grabbed the guard behind the opposite hatch by the front of his suit, slamming his skull against the ceiling and then dropping him like a used rag. The guard crumpled to the floor.
More emerged from cover to fire on Tort, and only then did the Gok return fire, sending bolts of light flying down the corridor. Flesh melted and popped where the energy beam touched it, and clothing caught fire.
The remaining guards turned and fled down the corridor, and Husher saw them run into another group on their way to provide backup, causing a great deal of co
nfusion as those fleeing Tort tried to communicate the approaching danger.
Tort didn’t wait for them to figure it out. He advanced down the corridor, firing bolt after bolt into the throng of guards. After a few seconds of carnage, they managed to organize themselves enough to return fire, but Husher had fought Gok soldiers over Spire, and he knew the precision required to penetrate their armor. At their remove, and with that level of panic, the guards weren’t coming close. Soon enough, the entire group broke once again, turning to flee en masse.
As Husher trotted after Tort, Caine kept pace, and she caught his gaze through their faceplates, her eyebrows raised. “All right, then,” she said.
He nodded. “All right, then.”
As Tort rampaged through the station, backed up by the marine’s supporting fire, they began passing cell blocks, each with an interactive information panel next to the entrance hatch. No security clearance was required to access the lists of prisoners. Evidently, the designers hadn’t expected intruders to ever get this far.
Finally, they came to a hatch with only one prisoner listed: Leonard Keyes.
Husher opened a two-way with the Gok, who had ranged ahead, seeking more kills. “Hey, Tort. We found the captain. You can…uh, could you…?” He glanced at Wahlburg, who had recovered the gurney from where Tort had thrown it. He’d dragged it along with them while keeping the tranq gun near at hand.
I don’t want to put Tort to sleep prematurely. “Tort, we need you to wait here while we extract Captain Keyes.”
The Gok turned abruptly, running back toward him at full speed. Husher wanted to take a step backward, but instinct told him not to. He clutched his assault rifle.
Tort stopped a few meters away, where the corpse of a guard lay strewn on the metal floor. The Gok bent over it, first pounding it with his fists, and then slamming it against the wall viciously, quickly turning the body into a pulpy mess. “Hurry,” Tort grunted. “Just…hurry.”
Juggernaut: The Ixan Prophecies Trilogy Book 2 Page 24
