by B. V. Larson
This was the price Straker knew they’d pay to emerge within an atmosphere. Still, with great risk came great reward. Now the Revenge should be floating within the spinning interior of the asteroid, an utter shock to any defenders. As long as the Ruxins could keep it in position, it could dominate the entire habitat.
Zaxby’s calm voice continued. “Firing. Interior defenses neutralized. We are taking scattered small arms fire. No damage. Reducing identified strongpoints. Moving toward the BCC.”
Now came the tricky part. Revenge would approach the northern end cap where the Base Control Center sat. Only at an end could the troops debark, for the ship wasn’t made to land on any surface that had significant downward force. Only at the end would the pull be so small, and the speed of the surface whizzing by so slow, that people could jump out safely.
“All right, Breakers! This is it!” Straker roared, and a cheer came back to him. “Don’t hesitate at the airlock. If anyone balks, shove them out! The gravity will be below ten percent, so remember your impact rolls and you’ll be fine.”
The airlock swung open, overridden from the bridge. “Captain Straker, you’re cleared to jump.”
“Great job, Zaxby.”
“Naturally, sir. Good luck.”
Straker hurled himself through the airlock, trusting Zaxby’s word that they were in position. The ground was close, and most of his velocity came from his jump, so when he struck the roof of the BCC and rolled, the impact was not severe.
Immediately, he leaped up and ran for the nearest access. Seizing the control center was critical to his plan, and every second was precious. Kicking the door open, he swarmed down a ladder, feeling the force of artificial gravity bite after so many hours without it.
The interior of the complex was lit by dim backup lighting. Rounding a corner, he barely stopped himself from shooting an unarmed woman, obviously a civilian local.
“Where’s Murdock?” he barked.
She pointed the other direction, a mixture of fear and hope on her face. “Second left,” she said.
“Thanks. Hide somewhere,” Straker replied, and ran in the direction she pointed. Nazario and Redwolf jumped off the ladder as he passed, and followed.
He kicked open the indicated door and immediately ran along the wall to his right. A beam speared his left arm, causing excruciating pain, which he powered through due to adrenaline and training. He fired a burst that cut down the rebel with the laser, and then another who was aiming at him with a blaster. His bodyguards followed him in, searching for targets, but it appeared there had only been the two.
“Murdock! This is Derek Straker! Surrender and you won’t be harmed!” he called into the room. It was filled with workstations and consoles, and most of the light came from the displays. They must be on battery power. “We’re taking this rock no matter what. The only question is, do you want to die for the cause, or live for a new one?”
“Don’t come any closer, Straker,” Murdock answered, still unseen. “I’ve got my finger on a burn subroutine that will shut down everything on this asteroid—water, air, heat, everything. We’ll all die.”
Straker motioned his men to hold. He stood and slung his slugthrower, confident in his speed. The hole in his arm was beginning to make itself felt, but fortunately laser wounds were self-cauterizing and this one felt like a through-and-through, a flesh wound that had missed the bone. “I hear you, Murdock, but I’m hoping you’re a good man, not like Ramirez and Yates and the rest of these thugs. Do you really want to work for them after all you’ve seen? Or are you just as bad?”
“You’re just as bad as they are. I’m not going to work for a man that murdered hundreds of civilians in cold blood.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Murdock?”
“I saw the records, Straker. That woman and that squid of yours set bombs on board the boats that held the people who wanted join the Mutuality.”
“That’s bullshit. It’s what Ramirez wants you to believe, but she had her people do it, probably someone like that scumbag Yates. It was because my friends discovered the bomb and because I tried to shut down their sex trafficking that she framed us and tried to kill us.”
“Why should I believe you, Straker?”
“Because you’re not blind, Murdock. You’re a smart guy, so think. Whose actions have been more consistent? Who tried to stop the abuse? Me. And who made excuses for it? Them. You had to have heard the troops grumbling about how I spoiled their party.”
Straker heard the scattered weapons fire die down. It appeared Murdock was thinking, so Straker let him think.
Heiser came into the room, freezing at the sight of Straker’s upraised fist. “All secure in the BCC, sir. Two dead, five wounded on our side, three civilian prisoners. All northern facilities have been taken, but there’s maybe forty or fifty Unmutuals scattered across the south. Lieutenant Zaxby says he could use ship beams on them, but it would cause a lot of collateral damage and civilian casualties.”
Straker said, “Tell him to hold their fire unless he can be sure to kill only the enemy. Advance your squads cautiously but don’t take big risks. In two hours, the rest of our troops should be here. Once we have reinforcements, we’ll finish them off. Get going.”
Heiser left.
“Straker,” said Murdock’s voice, “don’t shoot. I believe you. I’m standing up. I’m unarmed.”
“All right. Come on out. Hold fire, men.”
Murdock’s hands emerged, held high with fingers spread, from behind a console. The rest of him followed, stringy blonde hair surrounding a thin face and crooked nose, a tall man with a slight stoop.
Straker moved toward him. “Nazario, guard this guy with your life. Don’t let any harm come to him, but take him down if he makes any funny moves.”
“Roger wilco, sir,” said Nazario, taking a position behind Murdock.
“All right, Murdock. Give me a comlink to my Archer.”
“Your what?”
“The Ruxin ship floating inside here.”
“A Ruxin Archer…? Holy shit! I read about those things. Even played around with designing underspace equipment, but it was too tricky. That’s a real Ruxin-built vessel? Not some clone?”
“Real as it gets, and full of my squids. It’s how we cut your power and assaulted this place from the inside.”
Murdock’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim reflection of the consoles. “What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on that equipment…”
“You can play with toys later, Murdock. Right now I need a comlink.”
“Right-o.” Murdock handed him a headset. “There you go. It’s set to the correct freq, though I don’t have your encryption code.”
“It’s Breaker one-nine.”
Murdock put in the code, allowing Straker to tap into the secure comlink. “Straker here. Zaxby, do you read?”
“Revenge here, Lieutenant Zaxby speaking. I really would appreciate it if you would use proper protocol, sir.”
“Give it a rest. I have Murdock. Stand by for further instructions.” Straker’s eyes bored into Murdock’s. “What can you do to help us win this battle?”
Murdock waggled his eyebrows and grinned. “I think you’re going to like my answer,” he said. Tapping at screens and controls with slim pianist’s fingers, he brought up a visiplate view of the interior of a small hangar. Inside it, three humanoid figures stood.
Straker looked closer and a thrill ran through his bones as he noticed the scale of the manlike things. They loomed over equipment sized for human use, standing seven meters high or more.
“Mechsuits!” he cried. “Our two Sledgehammers and… a standard Foehammer?”
Murdock beamed. “I had the factory techs get them in shape. There are guys training on the Sledgehammers using the manual controls, but nobody can get the Foehammer to work properly for them. It’s too touchy, too high-powered. Like a racing sloop compared to a utility shuttle.”
“I can pilot it,” Straker hea
rd himself saying. “I’m going to pilot it! With that Foehammer, I can spearhead our assault right away, without waiting for reinforcements. Forty or fifty infantry won’t stand a chance against me.”
The comlink beeped. “Captain Straker, this is Revenge, do you read?”
“Loud and clear, Zaxby.”
“We are having increasing difficulty keeping the ship in place. Over half our station-holding thrusters have malfunctioned due to age and overuse. I fear if we do not transition soon, we shall impact the surface and suffer catastrophic damage.”
“You want to leave?”
“I believe that is the obvious conclusion.”
“Then go. Make repairs and watch for enemy ships.”
“Inserting now. Revenge out.”
“Straker…?” Murdock pointed at the visiplate showing the mechsuits. “I think we have a problem.”
Straker watched as two men ran across the hangar floor and mounted the Sledgehammers. “Oh, shit.”
Chapter 36
At Freiheit’s northern end cap, the BCC.
Straker grabbed Murdock’s arm and shook the man as he watched the mechsuits powering up. “I need to get to that Foehammer, fast. It’s the only thing that can take down those Sledgehammers. How do I do it?”
“Ow. Let go, dammit. Without getting killed by rampaging sixty-ton war machines?” Murdock jerked his arm, and Straker let him go. “Use the subway system.”
“Subway system? What’s that?”
“The first layer of tunnels beneath the surface. Go out the door, to the left, down the stairs to level minus-one. Read the map, take an electric cart. Good luck.”
“Good luck? What are you going to do?”
Murdock fixed Straker with a withering glare. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sit here and wait for an Unmutual counterattack? If you want this rock to ever enter sidespace, I have to contact my technicians, convince them to defect along with me, restore the power bus your laser-happy Ruxin sliced in half, and make sure everything’s working right. It’s a damn delicate operation to transit something this big. Not to mention, we’re too close to this system’s star. We need to get back out to flatspace, and impellers take power too.”
“Absolutely right, Mister Murdock. Do what you do best. You’re vital to this operation, and I’ll reward you as well as I can.”
Murdock waved his hands near his ears. “All I want is a chance to do my work in peace, without all this drama.”
Straker half-shrugged. “Can’t promise that.”
“By the way, you’d better secure the south end before somebody thinks to sabotage the sidespace engine down there. We’re dead in the water without both of them working together.”
“Got it.” Straker waved at Redwolf to follow and bolted out the door to the stairs, as the lifts had no power. Three levels down, they emerged into a wide, smooth tunnel with several branches. After checking the map for the way to the mechsuit factory, Straker leaped onto an electric cart and the two men sped down the passageway.
The factory subway station was deserted and dim with the emergency lighting. Straker leaped ahead and ran up the stairs, his bodyguard following close behind. At the top, he stealthily opened a door. The small mechsuit factory seemed equally dark and deserted, and the two men slipped across the robotic assembly floor.
As Straker rounded a giant assembler, something moved. He aimed his slugthrower and took cover. “Come out of there! Show yourself or be shot!”
A small man in a work coverall, tools peeking from a multitude of pockets, raised his hands. “Don’t shoot! I’m unarmed!”
Straker recognized the factory tech. “Manny, is that you? It’s me, Straker.”
“Captain Straker, thank the gods! You have no idea what it’s been like these past months.”
“I’m here to set things right, Manny. Is that Foehammer fully functional?”
“Yes, but it’s only twenty percent charged, and there are no missiles.”
“Gatling ammo?” Straker asked.
“Full up.”
“It’ll have to do.”
“The cockpit code is Unmutual123.”
“How imaginative.” Straker hurried toward the door to the mechsuit hangar.
“They took the two Sledgehammers,” Manny called from behind him.
“I know,” Straker said. “They’re my problem.”
He cracked the hangar door and looked in. The big mechsuit portal stood open to the outside, the two Sledgehammers were nowhere to be seen, and the Foehammer stood alone to one side, untouched. His greatest fear had not materialized; the other two pilots hadn’t thought to put a shot into the open interior of the ’suit to wreck its naked innards.
Straker handed Redwolf his slugthrower and equipment harness. It would interfere with the sensors in the tight confines of the mechsuit. “Stay here and secure the factory. Manny will help you.”
“Roger wilco, sir.” The big man turned to the tech and handed him the weapon. Manny took it hesitantly, and that was all Straker saw before he ran for the Foehammer.
He leaped into the cockpit, child’s play in the half-G of the spinning asteroid habitat, and buckled in. He tried to plug into his brainlink, to become one with the mechsuit again, it wouldn’t synch up. This wasn’t surprising; it normally took a day of integration at a specialized facility to blend a pilot’s brain with a particular mechsuit’s systems.
He’d have to do this the old-fashioned way, using the manual controls. He punched in the cockpit code.
Fortunately, the Foehammer’s backup control suite was still quite sophisticated. Cockpit sensors read his body and directed the mechsuit to mimic his every move. A wraparound HUD synched up with audible and tactile cues to give him superb situational awareness. Voice commands would operate his secondary systems, while his primary subroutines allowed point-and-shoot speed and accuracy.
Without his brainlink he’d lost half his combat effectiveness, but he was still the most dangerous thing on this little battlefield.
The mechsuit sealed itself and Straker felt it come alive. Only twenty percent stored power, as Manny had said, but it should serve as long as he was careful. If there was a weakness to a Foehammer, it was its need for power. That was one reason the primary weapon was a force-cannon, using volatile ammo made of exotic materials, instead of a pure beam weapon.
Moving the mechsuit, he became aware of his arm wound and dialed up a painkiller, but nothing happened. Apparently the drugs hadn’t been loaded into the system.
As he walked the Foehammer out of the hangar, Straker cursed the absence of Revenge overhead. His plan had been to keep the ship floating inside the habitat until they’d secured it. The vessel would have provided both recon and fire support, and could have smashed the two Sledgehammers flat with its ship-to-ship beams.
Looking up, he realized recon would be no problem. The inward curve of the cylinder meant almost every point was visible to every other point. The dimness of the power failure wouldn’t hinder him at all. His Foehammer boasted a complete suite of active and passive sensors.
Switching to passive thermal, he easily spotted the line of his Breakers by their body heat and their hot laser carbine signatures. The two Sledgehammers stood out immediately, glowing like bright striding demigods. They were rolling up his infantry’s flank, wreaking indiscriminate havoc.
Far from taking care to limit collateral damage, they were firing heavy beams and railguns into every structure, blowing all of them to bits. This showed their inexperience.
Straker suppressed the urge to take a shot from here. He could no doubt nail one, probably taking it out, but that would alert the other. For all its unwieldiness, a Sledghammer packed not one but two huge punches, either of which could incapacitate his Foehammer with a lucky hit. And, fighting inside this kind of curved interior, the longer the range, the less effective the available cover would be.
No, real mechsuit work took place at close range, where quickness, agility and surpris
e gave him the advantage.
He loped toward the two enemies, noting their lack of infantry support. The Unmutual troops hadn’t figured out that they should be advancing to assist the Sledgehammers’ counterattack. The omission would give Straker his chance.
When he reached close range, the inner curvature became moot. Buildings and folds in the ground, built long ago to mimic a planetary landscape, gave him places to hide and dodge.
He approached the enemy from behind and carefully lined up his force-cannon on one, at the most vulnerable point on any mechsuit: the back of the neck. Even though the pilot’s cockpit was buried deep in the ’suit’s torso, the head of the mechsuit contained most of its sensors, and thus had to swivel and tilt, creating an inevitable weakness. If the sensor head got blown off, a mechsuit would lose most of its effectiveness.
He could have tried for a pilot kill, drilling a bolt directly through the Sledgehammer’s back, but that section was just as heavily armored as the chest, being the obvious target. Another choice would have been a hip or knee, settling for a mobility kill, but for his money, the sensor head was the best option.
Straker’s bolt lit up the night like lightning, a magnetic shaft guiding a jet of pure superheated plasma little different from that formed by an armor-piercing shaped charge, though even hotter. After cutting through its tough duranium skin, the dense, energetic gaslike stream blasted out of every crack and weakness of the Sledgehammer’s cranial dome.
Some pieces fused, some melted, some ignited. The resulting heat burst through the overlapping armor plates and slagged all the delicate parts. The inexperienced pilot would be blinded and, lacking a brainlink, it would take him precious seconds, possibly up to a minute, to access secondary sensors and regain situational awareness.
Eighteen percent of his power remained. Straker shifted his attention to his undamaged opponent, who hadn’t noticed him and was still concentrating on advancing against the scattered Breakers. Every second of recharge time meant more of his people dying, blown apart by heavy railgun bolts or particle beams.
