Vance and Shadar were in front and they crunched their way across the floor, swatting aside loose pieces of bullet-holed furniture as they went.
“That way,” said Recker, indicating the forward exit.
The passage was a scene from hell and Recker couldn’t recall ever seeing such concentrated butchery. Here, the Lavorix had been incinerated by repeat rocket detonations and others had been pulverised, leaving knee-high piles of innards, bones and everything else required to make a biological organism function. A few of the soldiers cursed softly but mostly, they stayed quiet.
Around the next corner the passage was nearly empty, suggesting the Lavorix had sent most of their forces to the mess room. With few obstacles underfoot, the pace increased and Recker felt his eagerness return. He checked in with his crew, who were alive and further back in the line. They weren’t exactly in good spirits owing to the blood-soaked passages they were journeying through, but Recker knew they’d do what was necessary once they arrived at the bridge.
For some reason Recker had never understood, every bridge entrance was at the top of steps, and the same was true here. Vance held the squads a short distance away and peered around the corner with one foot resting on a headless Lavorix torso.
“The blast door is closed, sir,” he said. “Are members of the personnel security group able to operate the access panel?”
“I doubt it, Sergeant,” said Recker, suddenly wishing he’d spent a few additional seconds at the security station and given every soldier full crew access.
“We could return to the security station, sir. It’s the safest way.”
“I don’t want to waste any more time, Sergeant. We’ve taken too long as it is.”
Vance didn’t like it but his expression was one of resigned acceptance. “Let’s make the best of it.”
Following a short discussion on how to capture the bridge, Recker played his part by creeping up the steps, accompanied by a hand-picked group of soldiers, to a three-metre-square landing at the top. Feeling like a coward, he activated the panel and then sprinted for the stairs. He heard the blast door motors and detected a barely noticeable change of pressure.
Gunfire started before Recker was two steps down. He didn’t slow and jumped to the passage floor below, before darting left. Vance and Shadar called out orders. The gauss fire continued for a few seconds longer and then it was over.
“Clear,” said Shadar.
Without hesitation, Recker charged back up the stairs and entered the bridge of the Meklon battleship.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The bridge was a slightly larger version of the equivalent on the Vengeance, with two more stations and older-looking hardware. It was cold, but well-enough lit, and the hardware was online.
Recker felt instantly at home and dashed along the central aisle to the command console. Bodies – both unmarked Meklon and bloodied Lavorix – were strewn liberally on the floor and on top of the hardware.
A Lavorix with a bullet hole in the side of its head lay across the captain’s chair and Recker dragged it onto the floor. Nearby, a metal-shrouded processing box was connected by wires to one of the interface ports and he disconnected it immediately.
“Sergeant Vance, remove these corpses!” Recker shouted. “If you find any more of these encryption breakers, let me know about it immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Recker turned to find his crew entering the bridge. Apart from Commander Aston, they seemed dazed by the recent combination of events.
“Snap out of it!” Recker yelled. “Find your seats – we don’t have long.”
The crew got moving, choosing their seats and checking the status monitors. Neither Lieutenant Fraser nor Lieutenant Larson were familiar with the Meklon technology and Recker hoped they were fast learners.
“The sensors are coming up!” said Burner.
“Propulsion modules active,” said Eastwood. “A few amber warnings that I’ll have to look into. Otherwise, the control system is just waiting for your command to bring everything into a full operational state, sir.”
Recker acknowledged the update and continued his own series of checks. The control software was almost identical to that found on the Vengeance – a slightly older version, he noticed - and for that he was grateful, since it meant he didn’t have to waste time finding out how everything worked.
“The Meklon called this spaceship Fulcrum,” he said. “The logs show it stopped here on Kemis-5 for resupply.”
“What about a refit?” asked Eastwood. “The plating has taken a beating.”
“We’ll have to live with it,” said Recker. “The critical hardware appears to be functioning. Engine modes 1, 2 and 3,” he said.
“I’ve got missiles, countermeasures – including a mesh deflector and something else that isn’t fitted to the Vengeance - and an Executor, sir, with enough power to fire it from our unstressed engines,” said Aston. “No sign of a Fracture.”
“I’ll check it out once I get a moment, Commander,” said Recker. On the Vengeance, the deadliest weapon of all could only be accessed from a sub-menu on the command console.
“We’ve got sensors!” said Burner.
A double row of screens on the forward bulkhead lit up and Burner allocated the feeds amongst them. The scene outside hadn’t noticeably changed – the Axiom and Aktrivisar were visible on the portside, along with the scrap metal from the Lavorix spaceships. The much nearer three-kilometre wall of debris didn’t look so monumental when viewed from the Fulcrum.
To starboard, the second battleship was in the same place as before and Recker narrowed his eyes, as if he could divine the progress of the alien crew in bringing it to an operational state.
“Sir, I’m detecting an increased output from the second battleship’s hull!” said Eastwood. “They’re warming up their propulsion!”
“Commander Aston, give them hell,” growled Recker, his hands on the controls.
“I’ve locked our missiles, sir,” said Aston. “The range is too close and the warheads won’t arm before impact!”
“Let’s gain some distance.”
Recker placed his hands on the controls and pulled. Their weighting was identical that on the Vengeance and he knew exactly how much movement they needed. The Fulcrum’s propulsion increased in volume and the sound of it was incredible. A smaller warship’s engines could assail the ears, but the battleship’s main drive gripped Recker’s whole body and made his cells vibrate in tune to the movement of the ternium atoms.
“Missile launch detected!” yelled Aston.
The second battleship’s launch clusters spat out fifty or more missiles. Red dots appeared on the tactical and then vanished in an instant.
“The enemy warheads failed to detonate,” said Aston in clear relief. “Lucky us - the mesh deflector is set to manual. Switching it to auto.”
“Let’s have our turn with the missiles,” said Recker.
He lifted the Fulcrum a few metres off the landing strip and flew it sideways, knowing that if he gained too much altitude, he’d expose his warship to the enemy’s upper launch tubes. They’d made a mistake in firing too soon and their portside launchers would be reloading.
“Massive pile of debris coming up portside,” Burner warned.
Recker knew it but didn’t try to avoid the broken midsection of the Lavorix warship. He piloted the Fulcrum directly into the wreckage and the collision produced the dullest of thudding sounds against the hull. The debris toppled and the Fulcrum pushed it along like it weighed nothing.
“Fire when ready, Commander.”
“Waiting on green lights, sir.”
“The enemy spaceship is taking off,” said Burner.
“Starboard missiles launched. Six clusters of ten.”
The moment Aston spoke the words, the enemy battleship became ringed in a complex web of overlapping streaks of bright light. The Fulcrum’s missiles struck the mesh deflector and exploded all at once, illuminating a
huge area of the sky and the landing field below.
“Incoming gauss fire,” said Aston.
A drumming sound from the repeating gauss turrets on the second battleship reached the bridge. The slugs wouldn’t do much damage to the Fulcrum’s armour and the attack showed either intent or desperation on the part of the Lavorix.
“Waiting on our reload,” said Aston. “They’ve got a few seconds.”
Recker mentally counted down the enemy missile reload timer, which he’d learned from watching the Fulcrum’s own reload interval.
“I’m giving them our gauss turrets as well,” said Aston.
Recker was glad his ears were protected by his suit helmet, since the clinking roar of discharging metal would have damaged his hearing in seconds. He clenched his jaw and focused his attention on coming through this engagement without his warship ending up on the scrap pile below.
The enemy battleship rose strongly into the air and Recker took his own ship up alongside it. A speckling of white dots on the other warship’s hull alerted him to their missile launch. The Fulcrum’s mesh deflector activated, surrounding the vessel in the familiar labyrinthine sword-cut pattern. Plasma explosions enveloped the warship and quickly dispersed.
“Enemy missiles neutralised,” said Aston. “The mesh deflector is still available.”
“Find out the limitations,” said Recker. “I need to know out how often that enemy ship can activate its own defences.”
“On it, sir.” Aston found the answer a moment later. “We can hold two charges, each with an independent five-minute cooldown. That gives us one more activation and then we have to wait.”
Recker kept his attention on the sensors, watching the movements of the enemy ship. It turned, trying to bring its nose towards the Fulcrum, and he knew that’s where the Executor was fitted. The mesh deflector seemed to counter pretty much anything, but Recker didn’t want to test it any more than necessary. He certainly didn’t want to use up his second mesh deflector charge if he could avoid it.
So, he constantly adjusted the Fulcrum’s speed and orientation in the hope of outmanoeuvring the enemy vessel. Steadily, the two warships drifted apart and gained altitude, lines of white tracer light connecting them as their gauss cannons fired nonstop.
“Fulcrum missiles launched. Portside one through six,” said Aston. “Setting gauss guns to track and destroy.”
“Something dropped out of the enemy’s underside bay, sir,” said Burner. “A bomb.”
The Lavorix crew had some experience under their belt, or at least knew more about the capabilities of a Meklon battleship than Recker. An advisory flashed on his tactical.
Shock bomb detected.
The sky turned a shade of red that made Recker think of the Lavorix blood he’d seen spilled everywhere inside the Fulcrum. Electronic needles on his status panel flickered and then settled, with no obvious harm inflicted. On the sensor feed, only a handful of plasma explosions erupted on the enemy hull, rather than the near sixty he’d hoped for.
“Whatever that was, it knocked out the control units on ninety percent of our missiles, sir,” said Aston.
“The tactical computer reported it as a shock bomb,” said Recker.
“Yes, sir. Seems like we’re carrying some as well.”
“Figure out how to deploy them. And they didn’t activate their mesh deflector.”
“Keeping it in the bag for later.”
“That’s one mesh deflector down for each of us and their turn to fire next,” said Recker. “We blew our advantage.”
“From the quantity of ternium particles emerging from their hull, I’d guess the enemy activated engine Mode 2,” said Eastwood.
“They’ll be no more agile than we are,” said Recker, watching carefully. He was reluctant to activate the Fulcrum’s overstress mode before Lieutenant Eastwood had completed a thorough status check. He kept his finger near the button, but held off.
He watched the enemy ship rotate rapidly and he gave the Fulcrum’s engines extra power to keep it parallel with the other vessel’s portside flank. The enemy pilot attempted to fool Recker by quickly rotating back the other way, to bring the Fulcrum into the narrow firing arc of its Executor.
Having performed the same trick himself with the Puncher tank earlier and having been almost caught out by the same attempt from the enemy shuttle, Recker was ready. He had no way of completely escaping the firing arc, so he accelerated hard across it, reducing the Fulcrum’s exposure time.
The enemy fired its Executor. Recker knew the weapon had a short travel time and he swore when he realized the Fulcrum didn’t have the velocity required to escape the two-thousand-metre blast radius of the weapon. A flash of infinite darkness appeared five hundred metres from the battleship’s stern and the mesh deflector activated immediately, protecting the Fulcrum from the Executor’s effects.
A quiet chiming came from Aston’s console. “Just a friendly warning to let us know we’re vulnerable,” she said. “Deploying interceptors, deploying shock bomb.”
The pre-emptive activation of the interceptors sent hundreds of tiny missiles into the sky and the shock bomb dropped from an underside bay.
“Enemy missiles launched,” said Aston. “Holding our launch until the shock bomb explodes.”
The gauss turrets clanked and the shock bomb flashed beneath the Fulcrum, its energy burst causing many of the inbound warheads to fail. A couple of missiles crashed into the Fulcrum’s flank, producing explosions visible on the sensor feeds. Having journeyed through the warship’s armour to get here, Recker knew the battleship was built to last and he ignored the blasts.
Twisting the controls first one way and then the other, he fought a battle of skill and anticipation with the enemy captain. The Lavorix was a slippery bastard and wasn’t easily lured into a mistake. By this point, the Meklon base was far below and the two warships were in the upper atmosphere of Kemis-5.
“Fulcrum starboard clusters one through six launched. Rear lowers one and two locked and fired.”
The missiles flew into countless interceptors and gauss fire, though not enough to significantly thin the inbound wave. Recker thought this would be a punishing blow and then an enemy shock bomb went off at the last possible moment, disabling almost all of the warheads. A few exploded successfully, but not enough to cripple or destroy the opposing craft.
The enemy ship’s portside missile reload timer was almost up and Recker took a chance by accelerating side-on towards the craft. In moments, the two ships were adjacent, separated by no more than a hundred metres. The Lavorix made the same mistake as earlier and launched their missiles. The warheads crashed into the Fulcrum at such a short range that they failed to activate and their debris rained down towards the base below.
Having seen his manoeuvre successful, Recker swung the Fulcrum’s nose towards the enemy warship, bringing it into the Executor’s firing arc.
“We’re too close!” said Aston. “We’ll be caught in the blast.”
“No we won’t,” said Recker, hauling back on the controls.
The Fulcrum accelerated backwards, away from the other ship and Aston stabbed her finger onto the Executor discharge button. The dull bass that Recker remembered from back on the Vengeance swept through him, clubbing his body like a hundred rubber mallets and making him bare his teeth with the pain.
Elsewhere on the bridge, the soldiers who’d been given the task of clearing away the bodies and who’d been keeping their heads down during the combat, swore and cursed loudly.
Through watering eyes, Recker saw the mesh deflector activate on the Lavorix-controlled battleship and it rotated, bringing its rear missile clusters to bear. The Fulcrum’s gauss turrets fired on automatic, their control computer targeting the launch hatches on the opposing ship to destroy the missiles as they emerged.
“Interceptor storm fired,” said Aston, her voice thick from the aftereffects of the Executor discharge. “Upper forward clusters one through three launched.�
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“Two minutes on the first mesh deflector recharge!” said Eastwood, his voice too loud, as if he’d been deafened by the sound wave produced by the weapon discharge. “Five minutes on the Executor!”
Missiles detonated against the Fulcrum and the opposing battleship. Recker continued his fight for the upper hand, mentally tracking the reload timers and doing his best to position his ship to take advantage.
With neither side having a mesh deflector available, this was going to be a messy victory for whoever came out on top and Recker needed this warship to be operational so it could take everyone back home. If the Fulcrum suffered too much damage, this mission might never return with the data taken from the Excon-1 station.
An idea hit him like a thunderbolt.
“I’m going to issue a shutdown order!” he said.
“Interceptors launched,” said Aston. She raised her head. “You think the Meklon warship will accept one?”
“I hope so.”
Recker banked the warship and brought it in a tight circle, keeping near to the enemy’s reloading missile tubes. Taking one hand from the controls, he dived through eight or nine sub levels of the security menu, hunting for something he’d never been asked to use before during his service with the HPA.
He found what he was looking for.
Emergency disable: Captured Meklon fleet warship. Target: Bane?
“Do it,” Recker spat, sending the command.
At once, the captured warship – Bane – stopped accelerating. Its momentum carried it higher, while its hull rotated slowly. When momentum ran out, it hung in the air for a moment and then it fell, dropping like a mountain towards the ground.
“Their propulsion went to near-zero, sir,” said Eastwood.
“Blow them to pieces, Commander Aston,” said Recker. “Before they figure out what we’ve done and find a way to fix it.”
“Underside six launched,” said Aston. “Sixty missiles on their way.”
Recker tilted the Fulcrum so that its loaded starboard missile clusters aimed downwards.
“Starboard clusters one through six launched.”
Galactar (Savage Stars Book 3) Page 22
