Rail guns ripped into the hastily erected barricades of mechas as beaders fired against the walls trying to catch anything that stepped out. Grenade throwers arms were shredded but others quickly moved into their place. Stopping now would mean giving the shields enough time to recharge and make all the work that they'd done worth nothing.
Finally, one beader went down, then the other. The rail gun took time but it fell eventually.
“Go!” Falesh yelled as he forced those in front of him into the corridor.
They walked quickly, as doing anything more was almost impossible. As the first man made it past the corner, a plasmid blade flashed and the trooper fell backwards.
“Get 'em! They're right there!” Falesh yelled as more people moved past the corner. A few fell back here and there, but the majority of them continued on. Falesh turned to look into chaos, and at his enemy.
Their mechas were essentially the same as the ones the syndicate troops were wearing. They changed them up as they needed to. Whereas syndicate troops always went for more armour, as that was a symbol of status, these fighters had different amounts of armour across their mechas. The mechas were also well used. They looked grungy compared to the polished and cleaned mechas the syndicates troops had forced their slaves to polish to perfection. These mechas wore their scars with pride as, and that made Falesh pause. These people had been in vicious battles, and yet they had somehow survived.
“G-General, there's not one group. There's five of them at least.” He steadied himself at the sight as he pulled behind the corner.
“They come from a high g planet, they move as if they were born in this..,” Falesh felt the gravity increase even more and he gasped as he strained to look around the corner.
“What was that, Sergeant?” The General sounded not pleased in the slightest.
“They're definitely not syndicate. They fight together and they have no trouble doing it in a high gravity environment,”
“We shall have a harvest of many!” one of the enemy soldiers said as they cut through two attackers, then dropped back as their comrade killed another that slashed at him.
Without a word the general cut the channel and Falesh returned to his ragtag group of troops, which were dying in the droves.
“Get up there you!” Falesh said as more reinforcements funnelled through the already cleared areas to the rear.
Who the hell are these demons?
***
I grinned as I saw who was in charge of my squad as I jogged right up behind him. I tapped him on the shoulder, grinning as he turned.
“Look, I don't have ti - Salchar!”
“George,” I couldn't help smiling as the kids face lit up. He made to salute as I clapped him on the shoulder, stopping that nonsense.
“I'm now under you, as well as my pals here.” I indicated my security detail who varied from annoyed for having to protect me in a war zone, (Dave and Janice) to outright grinning (Krom and Shreesht). Calerd looked as non-committal as anyone could be. Monk and his security detail had gone to another squad under Shminkt's command. George nodded to them all. They'd met when I'd taken George home and the few times I'd gathered my friends together for a meal wherever I'd been. George was still stationed on Resilient and hadn't taken a promotion to platoon sub commander so he could stay onboard. The kid was driven.
“I'll leave you to what you were doing and fall in,” I said.
“Ah... I'm all set, just waiting to be told where reinforcements are needed,”
“MOVE! MEDIC!” Someone bellowed and a hole was made through the waiting platoon as medics and commandos carried or pulled their comrades back to one of the med bays.
“So did you hear Marco changed to be a shipyard worker with his sister?” George said as the hole closed up. George wasn't trying to disregard the wounded, I knew he'd be doing everything he could if he thought it could help, but they were already in the best care and keeping our minds clear of distractions would help them more, if we joined them or not.
“Really? I thought he was going to stay Commando,” I said, actually surprised.
“Nah. He was going to tell you, but with Parnmal and everything he knew you'd be too busy,”
“Well, we best bug him out for a drink if Silly hasn't got him clearing room for our new front line ships,”
“When will he be laying down the new ships?” George asked.
“Silly says that he thinks he can get most of the ships we have in six months, so maybe seven,” I said as an alert sounded on my armband.
Commandos were pulling back from their initial contacts with the enemy. Wounded and dead were mounting and there were still one of us to five of the syndicates. Soon they'd get to the open areas and it would become an all out brawl. George was looking at the same information.
“Alright ladies and gents, check your gear and get fuelled.” With so many races, not all of them drank water. Some of them rarely drank like the Avarians and Sarenmenti who had a mainly solid diet. It meant that specifics had become in most cases generalizations.
Just another thing the Free Fleet had changed for the people within it, no matter their race. Another alert sounded as mass casualties were reported in a hallway where someone had used a grenade to clear not only the commandos, but their own forces.
***
“Grenade detonation in Purple nine three!” One of Henry’s controllers said as he stroked his beard, anger filling his eyes as he forced back his impulse to charge into the enemy and claim retribution.
“Commander Santos reports the next squad commander is deploying support,”
Henry nodded darkly.
“Very well.” He looked to other issues.
“They're going to break through soon. I want forces engaged in hand-to-hand to fall back under the cover of the next squad,” Henry said absently. It was odd, battle raged all around them, but in this room it was quiet, everyone listening to Henry as he orchestrated the deaths of possibly thousands of Syndicate troops.
“Have squads leapfrog back to the eighth line. I want forces past the line ready to engage. We've drawn them in, now it's time to move onto recapture. As we planned I want the re-organized squads that have already been engaged and reserve force company commander Kreum ready to engage. The remaining reserve is to get those damned ships,” Henry growled as he waited for his controllers to look back to him, showing they'd sent the orders.
“Good, now we'll have nowhere to fall back to, no reinforcements, and split up. Let's show these bastards how we fight!” he said as he unlimbered his rail gun and racked a round. Others in the room checked their gear and followed their CAMC.
Chapter – By Any Means
Cheerleader listened to the message in its entirety, as well as looking at the information that had come with it, her face revealing nothing, but inside she was a mess of emotions.
The message ended and no one said anything as Cheerleader finished musing over the information she'd gained.
“Ben, plot a course to Parnmal,” she said, as if she'd been debating what movie to watch that evening.
Ben said nothing as he turned to begin plotting the course, Milra moving to his station to assist him if he needed it.
“Vort, recall all forces that are available within six hours. Also send a confirmation to Bregend. He as well as the factory ship and a destroyer are to stay behind. Bregend will be overall commander for the scouting of this area. Send him all logs. Onur, pick a destroyer to stay in-system. I want them liaising with Bregend as soon as possible.
“I want updates from every ship on their readiness within a half hour. Every ship is to be on yellow alert. I also want Corvettes to start making a FTL comm line through the systems Bregend went through to get here. That is to be a line of retreat if the syndicate make it to this system. Walf, I want you to get an information packet from him regarding those systems, as well as a summary of what is in those systems. Pass that to every ship.”
Cheerleader continued to go through the data.
How in the hell could Monk deal with that many ships? Plus he says there's probably more on the way.
By Cheerleader's calculations it had taken Bregend nearly a month and a half to get to her, and it would take her another two weeks to get to Parnmal, time she simply didn't have. They could be dead already, she thought as cold set over her, sadness making her eyes itch as she gritted her teeth, pain being replaced by anger.
Have faith. She chastised herself. If they are dead, then we will regroup and grow until we can beat them. Resolved, she tilted in her seat, resting her chin on her hand as she cleared her mind, using meditative techniques Monk had taught her. Now was not the time to let emotions rule her.
***
Kelu's forces had finally broken through and he'd found out some not so pleasing information. It appeared that he was right about not fighting syndicate forces. The troops he was fighting were organized, able to fight in high gravity and there were only five different types of them. Either they came from a very diverse planet or from up to five different planets.
We need to win this battle or we may have a fight on two fronts. He felt cold fear trickle through him at that little thought, especially seeing how well the enemy fought. Though they've now got everything on the line and we're already in the markets and living quarters. We'll soon have the gunnery control rooms.
When Kelu had the team leaders regather some of his troops and ferry them to other entry points, straining the enemy even more.
“We have movement, Captain,” The sensor officer said.
“What is it?” Kelu asked.
“Shuttles,” Kelu looked to the creature.
“What?”
“There's shutles hugging the surface of Parnmal and creeping up on ships,”
Dread filled Kelu.
“Pull back the troops now!”
“But-”
“We have no troops and those fuckers are going to board us,” Kelu clicked, an old tic from his mother race. The General didn't say another word as he began ordering the closest units back to the ships, as well as the few thousand waiting to get into the station still.
Kelu marched to his ready room, opening his closet and putting on the mecha that waited for him there. He walked out of his charging-cradle/closet, grabbing a rifle and loading it.
Always good to have a backup. He thought, pulling the charging handle. The mecha and weapons had been one of Kelu's plan B's in case the crew ever revolted against him. It had happened more than once in the Syndicate.
He marched out now, more confident as he remembered the lessons he'd been given on the machine. Without neural implants he was running off of chemical surges through his body which allowed him to move his limbs. The mecha was equipped to do that but it wasn't the smoothest.
The shuttle pilots seemed equal parts insane and brilliant as they skimmed across the surface of the asteroid turned station, barely missing protrusions. Weapons fire spat from the fast moving craft, hammering the Syndicate troops that were racing back to their ships. Of course they armed the damned things. Out in the open as they were, it was a slaughter. Kelu didn't have time to think on it, not that he would've cared, as some of the shuttles came under fire from the laborious and slow PDS systems. They took out a few shuttles, but they were like a rock trying to stop a wave. The enemy closed with the ships and attached not to the airlocks, but the hulls.
“It's going to take hours for them to get through,” The tactical officer said.
“These people are not idiots and you'd do best to remember it,” Kelu's voice cold as he went to a weapons locker at the rear of the bridge.
“Grab a weapon,” he said as there was a miniature stampede to get to the weapons locker. Kelu got out of the way as he indicated for Urlow to follow him. Urlow quickly did so and they walked through the open blast doors, quickly making their way through the halls to his room.
Urlow was the first to talk when they got to Kelu's room.
“What are we doing here, sir? Shouldn't we be getting ready to repel the enemy?” he said, confused as Kelu accessed something on his private terminal and threw Urlow a holdout he kept underneath it.
“Always have a plan,” Kelu said as the wall moved to reveal a well maintained and small shuttle.
“At the rear with the gear,” Urlow said with an appreciative grin. Opening the door for his captain.
“After you sir,”
Definitely giving this one a ship after this mess, Kelu thought as he got in and began powering up, Urlow sealing the shuttle behind him.
***
Falesh had never been so tired in his life. He was completely running on WakeUp now. He'd exhausted his supply and still the enemy kept on coming. Some idiot had had the bright idea of throwing a bandolier of grenades into the melee. It had killed more of the syndicate troops than the enemy, and the thrower had been promptly killed by his fellow syndicate troops. But it had given the syndicate force time to move up, until they could reinforce their defenses. Big bastards with more plating that Falesh had seen on a shuttle thumped their way into the corridor blocking their forces off. Even with their massive armour, their mechas easily compensated the weight as they locked in their arms and fired. Falesh hadn't moved from his first spot, being so tired, and he was happy he didn't as the bastards were carrying auto cannons. Beads ripped down the hallway cutting the syndicate forces down as the auto gunners moved up, forces with lighter weapons covering them as they rushed up.
Syndicate members threw grenades and fired sporadically, getting a few lucky kills, but the bastards kept coming. They moved systematically clearing rooms and constantly moving. Once they got to their dead and dying they ferried them back to the rear, gunners keeping up constant fire so not even a grenade could get to them. One tried to throw a grenade, but her hand was shredded to nothing the moment she stood. Her grenade was set on impact, it exploded when it dropped to the floor.
Once the dead and dying were cleared the enemy retreated once again. A few were hit, but none were left behind as a firing line was made at the end of the hallway. They picked off anyone that left their cover.
“Find me another way around!” Falesh barked as he saw other forces had already made it into the living areas of the station. He saw one group close to the end of the corridor, and an evil smile appeared on his face.
“Hey, whoever this is, we've got assholes looking the wrong direction right here. They're all yours,” he relayed the point where the enemy had their gun line as he rested against the wall.
I'm too old for this shit.
He watched as the gun line was rolled over, grenades falling amongst their midst as they fell to the tired cheers of the syndicate troops, who picked themselves up and continued forward. Abruptly, Falesh found himself free from the deadly corridors, and instead in the maze of living quarters which had been cut directly through Parnmal's core. Falesh dropped to the ground as he saw enemy reinforcements turn a corner. He let a stream of fire go, and the enemy returned fire, but they were slow and overwhelmed quickly.
“Let's get these fucking bastards!” he yelled to the cheers of those around him as they quick walked up the hall.
But, the enemy waited behind the corner, jumping out into the midst of the syndicate troops, shooting and cutting as if possessed. The syndicates fought back with the vicious brawling techniques they knew.
Thank god we have numbers on our side. Falesh thought. Fifty thousand troops had died from the time they left the ships to finally getting past the complex series of defences.
Chapter - Patience
Even though Dreckt had agreed to the plan that Henry, his commanders and Salchar had worked on, this part was possibly the worst. He had to wait, allowing those he had trained and his brothers that had fought beside him for the majority of his life to take on a force seven times their size as the remaining forces on Parnmal prepared their last-ditch defense.
He checked his smaller and faster firing rail guns with their attached blades. He hadn't been in a
ny battles with the Free Fleet, but before that he had a lifetime of battling under his belt. He was confident, but still nervous.
The Free Fleet had told him and his people the truth; while they didn't know the fate of their race, the Sarenmenti as well as the Kuruvians were applying to have colonies from Sol systems to AIH. They'd learnt that one planet was not enough of a safety net.
Now’s not the time to be thinking on that. He let out a few breaths before checking his weapons again, waiting for the order.
Salchar
“Breeching!” the door Commando said as the directed plasmid charges cut through the destroyer’s armour as if it was nonexistent. There was a rush of air in, the forward Commandos threw their grenades compensating for the pressure difference and dull thuds went off as the rush of air stopped pulling at their mechas.
“Move!” George said, his commandos moving before he'd finished yelling.
“Clear right,”
“Left,”
“Moving,”
The shuttle quickly cleared as commandos filled the ships, breaking off for their objectives. I was placed in the middle of my protection detail and a few extras, our objective a secondary power plant. Brrvvvfft. Brrvvvfft. Krom's auto-cannon dropped four attackers with quick burst as we kept moving with barely any pause. We cleared through rooms, me keeping mostly out of the way as no one wanted to put me in danger it seemed.
“We have forces getting back on the ships. We need those weapon systems down so we can manoeuvre and shoot them,”
Shit, I thought as I looked at the diagrams of the ship. Someone had gotten us a blue print and after looking over the plans with Shrift, Eddie, Silly and anyone that wanted to do anything technical. I had gotten quite good at looking at the mechanical and electrical systems and understanding just what the heck they were. I circled approximately ten junctions before I contacted George.
“This is where the power relays for the PDS targeting computers are. We take them out then this ship can't use anything but manual,”
Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked Page 6
