Rebels and Patriots (Imperium Cicernus Book 3)

by A. G. Claymore

  The inner door slid open as the pressure equalized. Two startled Grays were standing in a passageway leading away from the hatch. Urbica brought her assault weapon up and put three rounds into each.

  “Split up,” she ordered. “Break into pairs and cover as much ground as you can. Move fast and cut them down. They don’t seem to carry much in the way of shipboard defense but they will try to destroy the ship if they realize how much trouble they’re in.”

  She thumped Paul’s shoulder. “You’re with me.” She raced aft and he fell in behind her. They encountered a dozen more Grays on the way to the bridge and put them down with embarrassing ease.

  They rounded a corner and cursed. Marines guarding the bridge of a Gray ship?

  He accelerated to full speed and dropped to get under the fire of the Marines’ weapons. He knew his assault rifle had no chance of penetrating the heavy armor but there were still options.

  He’d been trained in the armor before heading off to the military police school. Any Marine, whether a store-man, a recruiter or a military cop, has to know how to fight and he knew the strengths of the armor.

  And its weaknesses.

  He slid up to the guard’s feet and aimed up beneath the chest plate. His rounds hit the fixatropic armored panel protecting the gaps between the composite plates.

  The rounds slid under the outer composite plate and broke the seam between hard and fixatropic plates, tumbling into the operator’s torso. He rolled to look for an angle on the second man but pulled his weapon up as Urbica slammed into the target.

  She wore the same light armor as her dragoons and it was two thirds the weight of a Marine suit. Though it may seem a disadvantage, in the right hands its agility could give an operator a distinct edge.

  She’d taken advantage of the second man’s distraction. He’d been turning to bring his weapon to bear on Paul when she launched herself into the air, slamming her feet into his chest plate as he desperately turned to meet the new threat.

  She was lighter, but applying that weight to an impact point high above his center of gravity was enough to ruin his balance.

  Arms flailing, the man fell on his back and she shoved her own rifle under his chest plate and pulled the trigger.

  The heavy suit shuddered and went still.

  They pushed on into the bridge. Eight crew were there and they fell at their posts, cut down by disciplined bursts. Urbica wanted this ship intact. Shooting wildly in a room filled with control panels was a recipe for disaster.

  She touched a hand to the side of her helmet. “Excellent. Team leaders, keep your people moving. Continue to sweep the ship until I say otherwise. I don’t want a Gray popping out of a storage locker and setting the self-destruct.”

  She retracted her helmet. “You did alright,” she told him, “for a doughnut commando.”

  His helmet folded out of sight. “Is that it? I thought boarding actions were supposed to be a little more desperate.”

  She nodded to the two dead Humans outside the bridge entry. “This was tougher than the boardings at Carbon Well. They must have asked Kinsey to give them Marines after that. There were five more down in engineering.”

  “That pì jīng Seneca has a lot to answer for,” Paul fumed. “I’m going to walk into the rotunda and slap restraints on him in front of the media. We’ve got enough evidence to roast him alive.”

  “Can you prove he was pulling Kinsey’s strings?”

  A nod. “Check the intel we’ve pulled out of the Dauntless systems so far. He’s been giving Kinsey some pretty specific directions. Even if he buys his way out of this, he’s finished in the Grand Senate. His family is about to go into decline.”

  “Then he’ll be desperate to salvage the situation.” she warned.

  Paul sighed. “He can still threaten Santa Clara. It’s not as complete because there are still other, smaller producers who’ll have access to all the erbium they want, but…”

  “But he can still use it to suppress the Imperial economy,” she finished for him. “We need another clever plan.”

  Dimitry swung his small attack craft around and dove back into the melee. One of the few remaining Gray Hichef attack ships was lining up on Eddie’s junior call sign. The man was watching his squadron leader’s back but his own backside was about to get ripped apart by sunspots – the Gray ammunition of choice.

  The sunspots were nuclear rounds. A miracle of miniaturization but far less impressive, gram for gram, than the antimatter rounds used by the Humans.

  According to official record, only the Imperium had cracked the mystery of antimatter. How it was harvested was a closely guarded secret and only the Navy and Marines were authorized to use it.

  Dimitry had been pragmatic about that when Urbica had robbed the Dauntless blind. The armories aboard the super-dreadnaught were now largely stocked with conventional ammunition, though they still believed it was AM stock.

  He’d rather survive to stand trial than die as a law-abiding citizen. Pragmatism was a way of life on Kamchatka, a forested world orbiting another Gliesan system.

  He closed in on the Hichef. AM rounds were not to be used lightly. One didn’t simply spray and pray because their destructive power was too dangerous to friendly forces. You had to get in close enough to feel the detonation in your bones.

  Dimitry wondered what it was like for a Gray, thousands of years old, to go into combat. Did they crave a break from their endless existence or did they think they had more to lose? He shrugged mentally. “Chto delyat?” The question was entirely rhetorical; he knew exactly what he was going to do.

  He judged his moment and sent a three-round burst toward the alien attack craft. They all impacted, shutting down the rounds’ internal containment fields and allowing the antimatter cores to react with the matter in the casings.

  Though most civilians assumed the antimatter reacted with the enemy ship, the concept was mostly untenable. Most enemies had energy shielding, effectively preventing the antimatter from reacting in much the same way the rounds’ own internal shields kept them stable until deployment.

  The round reacted with its own casing, unleashing incredible destructive power.

  The Hichef remained intact, protected through some minor miracle by its shielding, but the crew were undoubtedly dead. The small craft had been thrown several kilometers in the space of a half-second and no inertial dampening could negate that kind of force.

  The Hichef continued along at the same speed on its new course which would take it straight into the larger of the system’s three suns.

  He accelerated and changed course, only to find there were no targets left. “Bravo Squadron, sector secure,” he advised his pilots. “Maladyets!”

  Paul brought his weapon halfway to the firing position as the Gray suddenly appeared behind Urbica. “Julia,” he hissed, nodding at the projection.

  She turned and, after a slight hesitation, waved her weapon through the hologram. It was detailed enough to make them wonder if the Grays had developed some kind of teleportation technology.

  The alien jumped as her rifle passed through him. “Stop that!” he snapped.

  “Or what?” she demanded. “You’ll commit more acts of war against the Imperium?” She leaned the rifle casually against her shoulder. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am Prime-Spear Mthlok. Who are you?”

  A prime-spear was roughly the equivalent of a colonel. Mthlok had been caught off guard. Julia doubted he would have opened a channel to Imperial forces and chatted if he could help it. It might very well lead to serious consequences down the road.

  It would be harder for the Gray Quorum to write these forces off as rogue elements if there were recordings of Imperial forces actually interviewing them.

  At the very least, the records from this battle would be more than enough justification for reprisals.

  “I’m Colonel Urbica of his Imperial Grace’s Marines.”

  Mthlok’s skin went from a misty gray to a
light charcoal and his veins began bulging green. He showed no other sign of agitation. “You have much to answer for. Our ships were simple merchants…”

  “At Carbon Well?” Julia offered him a look of disdain. “I was there. They were light cruisers selling attack vessels to secessionists. I kill anyone I catch trying to disturb the Emperor’s peace.”

  “Your Emperor?” Mthlok gave her a slight head-tilt, the Gray version of spitting on the ground in disgust. “He’s just a child.” His voice showed no discernible emotion at all.

  “And yet he kicked your bony little asses at Carbon Well, didn’t he?”

  Paul had been watching quietly until a message appeared in the center of his vision. “All personnel, this is about to go sideways. Take positions on starboard side of hull and stand by to board newly arrived Gray carrier.”

  “You will return our vessels to us immediately.”

  There was a glitch in the holographic Gray; he went from solid to a half transparent image. Julia began walking toward the nearest escape trunk, waving for Paul to follow.

  He chuckled. She’d moved the prime-spear to a visual room in her CPU. Her systems would continue to project a version of her but it would extrapolate mannerisms and actions from the words she chose. The Gray would have no idea she was moving.

  She’d also opened a side channel so her dragoons would know what was happening. They entered the trunk and closed the outer door.

  “These vessels are legitimate prizes of conflict as defined by the terms of the Ceres Convention. They belong to the Emperor so I’m afraid I can’t just hand them over without His Grace’s permission.”

  She punched the controls and the outer door snapped open. They climbed out to find hundreds of dragoons already waiting.

  “All personnel,” a new message read, ‘move to enemy carrier to our starboard and stand by for further orders at the entry ports.”

  “Nonetheless,” Mthlok droned. “You will hand them over to me or they will be destroyed.”

  “You do understand, Mthlok, that you’re moving from the realm of deniable incident to one of overt act of war?” She was halfway to Mthlok’s ship, Paul passing her much more slowly this time.

  “Bringing your warships into Imperial space was bad enough, but destroying Imperial property? If you destroy this ship, it enacts the emergency measures statute, allowing His Grace to bypass the Grand Senate and order any response he wishes.” She had chosen her words carefully, saying this ship even though she had just landed on the hull of Mthlok’s fast-attack carrier.

  “All personnel,” her next message read. “Commence boarding of the enemy carrier. Same drill – I want this ship intact.” She led Paul and six dragoons through the carrier’s escape trunk.

  “Your Imperium lacks the resolve to press beyond the Rim,” Mthlok insisted. “I will not give you another warning; surrender all captured ships immediately.”

  “Stand by,” she replied, signaling that she wanted all six dragoons to come with her. “I’ll give it some serious thought.” She raced down a passageway toward the centerline of the ship.

  Paul brought up a tactical display. Close to eight hundred dragoons were now aboard the Gray carrier. They were mapping the large ship as they moved through the passageways, their implanted CPU’s working in hive mode to show the estimated positions of bulkheads and compartments.

  They reached the centerline and found a riser. The Grays used vertical shafts with no grav-plating to move between decks. It was simple enough to move personnel or equipment up or down through the shafts and it reduced unnecessary complication.

  They reached the command deck and slowed to peer over the edge of the deck plating. They found another two Marines on guard. Their helmets were still retracted, indicating Mthlok was unaware of his predicament. She signaled two of her dragoons to fire on her mark.

  They settled the muzzles of their weapons on the edge of the deck and took aim.

  The tactical display showed the vast majority of the dragoons had made it on board and several hundred had set up for a surprise rush on key targets.

  “I’ve reached a decision,” she advised Mthlok.

  “The right one, I’m sure.” His voice still showed no hint of subtext, but that was the Grays.

  “I’m sure of that,” she said. “All units, engage.”

  “You’ll regret this for a very short time,” Mthlok told her. He turned to nod to someone behind him. They were so close that expanding gasses and debris from the stricken cruiser hammered against the shielding of the carrier, causing the shield generators to shake on their mountings. The vibrations made a good approximation of the original explosion.

  The self destruct on the first prize had been detonated.

  But there was a far juicier prize to be won.

  Mthlok’s holo image turned in alarm as he heard two shots followed by the Marines crashing to the deck in their heavy armor.

  The first two dragoons made their way onto the decking and started hauling out their comrades as quickly as they could. Urbica led them onto the bridge and they put down fifteen Grays in half as many seconds. She raced up to a Gray standing in the middle of a holo display and knocked him down with ease.

  “Your days are numbered, you…” Mthlok’s final sentence was cut off as Urbica put a boot on his chest to hold him still and fired a burst between his eyes. His own transmitter, located in his sinuses, wouldn’t be sending any dead-man signals to the self-destruct.

  “You sure that was him?” Paul asked her.

  “Ship hasn’t blown yet,” she replied, breathing heavily from the frantic burst of violence. “And they only allow captains to use dead-man protocols so, yes, I’m pretty sure that was him.”

  She nodded. “Good work, boys. Stand by to land your squadrons aboard the Gray carrier. I’m going all-in for this one and I need every trigger finger we have to clear this beast.”

  She moved around the bridge, looking at the screens. The third one caught her eye and she pecked away at it for several minutes uttering a few juicy curses to keep things interesting.

  Finally she stepped back with a triumphant expression. “Eddie, start bringing your guys on board; the combat shield is down at the hangar entry.”

  “Alright…” She turned to the dragoons on the bridge. “Any of you got a bridge rating?”

  “Ma’am.” One man nodded.

  “Good! The rest of you, get busy clearing this deck. It only takes one Gray at a data node to destroy this ship so kill anything that isn’t a dragoon.”

  “Or an ICI inspector,” Paul called after them.

  She chuckled as she turned to the remaining dragoon. “What’s your station?”

  “Navigation, ma’am.”

  “Excellent, good man. Find the nav console and figure it out. I want us able to bend space out of here if we need to.”

  She took a deep breath and blew it out as she looked around the bridge. Paul saw an icon for a virtual room and he opened it. Seconds later, Tony appeared between them.

  “How’s it looking out there, Major?” she asked.

  “We’re holding it together for now, ma’am. The Dauntless is secure enough for the moment, but she’s got a hornet’s nest of angry Marines from the 538. We’ve got ‘em contained for now, but we might be forced to vent atmo from their sections to calm them down a bit.

  “They lost a few of their ships in the fight when the Grays couldn’t tell who was who and the ones that remain are barely able to keep station since they have skeleton crews.

  “All other hostiles have been neutralized for now.”

  “Good.” She ran a hand over her scalp. “You’ll need to secure the area while we clear out the Grays and sort out the critical systems.”

  “You’re going to use the carrier, ma’am?”

  She grinned. “Know how we got the Rope a Dope, Major?”

  Tony shook his head.

  “We got her from a nest of raiders out by Hagensborg. With a few modifications, we g
ave ourselves a reach nobody expected. The SDF aren’t allocated carriers by CentCom, so we decided to write our own allocations.” She held out a hand to indicate the Gray ship. “Having a proper carrier will do wonders for our effectiveness. And it’s going to help us in the next phase.”

  “Santa Clara.” Tony nodded.

  “Not quite yet, Major,” she corrected. “Our next target is Agash.”

  He stared at her in shock. He looked to Paul but got nothing more than a shrug. “Ma’am, how far into Gray territory are we planning to go?”

  “As far as we have to,” she told him. “We can’t let them get away with cruising into our territory with armed ships. If we didn’t punch them in the face for that, aliens would be swarming through the Rim within a couple of years, and I don’t trust CentCom to authorize a punitive mission.

  “We have the momentum right now and I’m not inclined to waste an advantage. We’re going to disrupt their ability to coordinate operations beyond the Rim first and then we’ll go deal with Santa Clara. Chances are any Gray forces at Santa Clara will be recalled to deal with the threat we’re about to present.”

  “And by the time they get to Agash…” Tony began.

  “We’ll have moved on to their logistics depot at Irsulian,” she finished for him.

  He gave her a fatalistic grin. “I’ll put my best techs on a shuttle and send them over,” he offered. “We’ll need to get that auto-destruct pulled apart before we run into any more of those gǒucàode húndàn.”

  “Thanks, Tony. I’ll…” She trailed off, standing in silence for a second. “Not bad,” she muttered to herself.

  “Uhh… ma’am?”

  She shook it off. “Sorry about that, but you just gave me an idea. We don’t exactly want to leave the Dauntless just sitting here when we bend space for Agash so I was going to leave them with you at the rendezvous point to scare the hell out of any pursuit. The Rope a Dope will stay here for now with just an anchor watch.”

  “Makes sense.” Tony’s tone indicated he expected more and his boss didn’t disappoint him.