Nullifier (Fire and Rust Book 6)

by Anthony James

  Griffin saw at once which direction it was heading – directly for the Sekar battleship forty klicks east. He had no doubt what it planned and he knew it was far too late to prevent it happening.

  “Fire!” he yelled.

  Jackson was primed and ready. The Broadsword’s forward missile tubes opened and twenty-four Ultor-VI plasma missiles burst into the cold skies of Glesia with a combined boom of igniting propulsions. The missiles shrieked after the Ragger ship, leaving Griffin watching with a feeling of dread, while Kenyon frantically tried to alert the troops on the ground.

  The Fangrin pilot had landed the shuttle within three hundred meters of the wrecked Sekar battleship. It took Conway’s eyes a few moments to make sense of everything. He was accustomed to being dwarfed by the vast constructions of technology, but the Sekar ship was something else entirely. Its hull went on and on, seemingly forever. When it crashed down, it made a crater in the solid rock that was much wider and deeper than Conway expected. The battleship nestled within this scar of its own making, its crew dead but still offering a challenge to the people who sought its secrets.

  “Come on!” shouted Conway, waving his free arm to get everyone away from the shuttle. His soldiers didn’t require the encouragement and they hurried clear.

  The Fangrin transport took off at once. With a grumble of stressed propulsion, it rose vertically into the sky with its boarding ramp still hanging open. Conway didn’t watch it leave – he was too busy getting his bearings. It was tough since Colonel Thornton had ordered zero lights in case it gave away their positions to the Raggers.

  Privately, Conway didn’t think it mattered too much. If or when the enemy chose to act, it wouldn’t be with a delicate, precision strike, carefully aimed to wipe out individual squads. Whatever the Raggers sent this way was far more likely to blanket the area with fire and incinerate everything within five klicks of the battleship. It would be just like Satra, only without the bright lights of the TV studio.

  The local comms network was busy and Conway’s suit picked up dozens of channels. He requested access to the main officer’s channel and waited for acceptance. It didn’t happen immediately, suggesting that whoever oversaw access was busy elsewhere.

  While he waited, Conway briefly analyzed the nearest comms signals and estimated that the next closest squads were a few hundred meters towards the battleship’s forward section. Other squads were aft and moving further away.

  “Where to, sir?” asked Sergeant Lockhart.

  “One way or another, we’ll have to enter this crater,” said Conway. “And on the bright side, it’ll provide some cover.”

  The deployment was right on the crater’s edge and it didn’t take more than a few dozen steps before Conway could see down the slope. He braced himself against the wind and studied the ground ahead. The elongated crater wasn’t smooth and he saw cracks and jagged edges, all made uncertain by the shades of green from his suit helmet image enhancer. Luckily it wasn’t too steep and with no sign of ice clinging to the surface.

  As he stood on the rim, the battleship towering above him, Conway felt like a medieval soldier facing a black-walled castle hiding an unrevealed threat. The crater seemed to him like it was a moat, empty, yet still an obvious reminder to anyone foolish enough to cross it that only death lay on the far side.

  With reluctance, Conway slung his Gilner in order to have both hands free. The rifle wouldn’t be shooting many Raggers or Sekar if he fell and broke his neck. With careful sideways steps, Conway began his descent and his squad followed. A few paces down the slope he was granted access to the main officer channel for the deployment. He listened in and heard a few terse reports from some of the officers he remembered meeting on the Iron Cell.

  “Nobody’s found anything which looks like a way in yet,” he told the others. “They’re bringing the gravity-engined laser cutter from the Iron Cell.”

  “They expect it to cut through the same material that a plasma missile doesn’t even scratch?” asked Corporal Brice.

  “What else can we do other than try?”

  “I guess.”

  The squad climbed towards the bottom. To Conway’s immense irritation, the wind didn’t lessen. In fact, he thought some of the gusts were stronger than before, as if they were channeled and magnified by the crater. The ice came too, and it struck the rocks hard enough to ricochet. The wind was too strong for the ice to settle, but the skittering shards added an unwelcome dimension to their progress.

  On two separate occasions the soldiers were obliged to jump across meter-wide fissures. Conway didn’t bother trying to estimate the depth of either. In the darkness, they reminded him uncomfortably of the Sekar rifts and he wanted to move away as quickly as possible.

  As Conway progressed, his eyes understood more details of what lay ahead. The battleship’s hull wasn’t completely flat to the bottom of the crater. The unevenness of the crushed ground meant that it sometimes touched the Sekar ship’s flank, while at others it formed an opening beneath. Conway cursed under his breath – he didn’t relish the idea of crawling into a narrowing space between the ground and the hull, especially if the battleship hadn’t fully settled.

  “This section of the hull has already been explored,” said Freeman, reporting his findings from one of the comms channels. “We shouldn’t expect to find anything.”

  “How closely did the first pass squads look?” asked Conway.

  “I don’t know, sir. Are you asking if they crawled along that gap where the crater goes under the plating?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m asking.”

  “I’ll find out.” Freeman went quiet for about fifteen seconds. “The squads who came this way did a fast visual and nothing more. We’ve got others coming from the forward sections. They’re doing a thorough check of anything the first sweep missed.”

  “What are we going to do, sir?” asked Warner.

  “Don’t you like the idea of getting on your hands and knees underneath a billion tons of potentially unstable Sekar warship?”

  “Not much.”

  “Me either. I’ll think on it.”

  Conway finished his descent, though he wasn’t at the lowest part of the crater. The ground continued sloping below the spaceship, leaving a clear gap which narrowed steadily. He looked upwards and noted that the slight curve of the battleship’s armor meant he was underneath its flank. In order to touch the spaceship, he would need to continue for another fifteen or twenty meters where he judged it came low enough to the ground.

  “No lights, huh?” asked Corporal Barron nearby, her visor pointed upwards.

  “No lights,” Conway confirmed.

  “There’s no way we’re going to find a hatch opening without better visibility.”

  “And we aren’t going to find it by complaining either,” said Conway.

  “No, sir,” said Barron. “That we aren’t. Forward ways or aft ways?”

  “The forward troops are coming our direction, sir,” said Freeman. “We can either meet up with them or push on.”

  “Let’s head aft,” said Conway after a moment’s hesitation. “If we spot anything, we’ll wait for support.”

  He led them away. It was slow going, since any variation on the Sekar battleship’s hull would be easy to miss and the rough ground made the footing treacherous. Private Kemp had no fear about going deep under the hull and he scrambled along eagerly like a child exploring a cave.

  Conway didn’t like the feeling of weight above him, but he went with Kemp. A short distance away, Lieutenant Rembra organized a line with the intention of sweeping towards the rear section of the spaceship.

  “Watch this, sir,” said Kemp. He reached up and punched the hull. “It feels strange.”

  “It hasn’t killed you anyway,” said Conway dryly. He stretched out a hand and stuck his palm on the black surface. It was smooth and, he thought, slightly yielding.

  “Punch it, sir.”

  Conway obliged by thumping his knuck
les into the battleship. “Like a dead Sekar,” he said.

  “That’s what I thought too.”

  It seemed odd and Conway reported it to a Fangrin captain called Zival, who formed part of Colonel Thornton’s team.

  “We are noting the observations and behavior of the material, human,” said Captain Zival.

  “Anything useful from the other squads?”

  “Not so far. Neither the Fangrin nor the ULAF handheld scanners understand the battleship’s composition. We have taken hull scrapings but they decay within seconds.”

  “And no sign of a way in?” asked Conway, not expecting a change since the last time Freeman asked.

  “The enemy ship is sealed. We have six automated sensor drones over the upper sections. For a spaceship this size, we require several times as many to make the task acceptably efficient.”

  Conway closed the channel. Scarcely had his earpiece gone quiet, when the AF1 battle network pushed out a comms-wide alert warning of an incoming Ragger spaceship.

  “This way!” shouted Conway. “Get under the spaceship!”

  His squad heard the warning too and they acted instantly. Fearing the worst, they sprinted deeper into the overhang. Conway and Kemp waited for them, where the Sekar battleship came so low to the ground that they were forced into a crouch.

  That was the moment the explosives went off. Whatever the Raggers dropped, it carried a monumental payload which, for one brief instant, dispersed the night and lit up the Sekar ship in orange flames. Conway felt the air being sucked from everywhere around him, producing a savage, unnatural replica of the planet’s fury. He dropped prone and prayed that he would live to feel the storm’s touch once more.

  Chapter Four

  Griffin felt little satisfaction when eighteen of the Broadsword’s plasma missiles tore into the Ragger light cruiser and ripped it into pieces. The enemy craft was travelling fast enough that the debris’ momentum carried it far beyond the Sekar battleship, though it probably didn’t matter too much for the troops in the area. The Ragger incendiary charred the ground and its light was strong even through the ice storm.

  “Get me a report!” he ordered.

  “On it, sir,” said Kenyon.

  The bridge crew worked hard. The incendiary drop was disastrous and had likely killed many of the soldiers. Griffin wanted details, but he couldn’t lose focus on his duties. The ground deployment was vital to the success of the Glesia mission and now it seemed untenable. Given the circumstances, it was impossible to prevent the Raggers repeating their attack and eventually they’d wipe out everyone living on the surface. The new primary mission was to either defeat the enemy or to escape. No doubt the question was causing Admiral Yeringar some real problems.

  “No sign of further hostiles,” said Dominguez. “And nothing new from anyone else on the battle network.”

  “We’ve got plenty of survivors on the ground, sir,” said Kenyon. “We’re picking up more than four hundred suit receptors, with an additional hundred underground in Refuge 9 and out of range.”

  The tactical screen gave a clear indication of the current lack of direction amongst the members of AF1. Warships flew randomly in the vicinity of the Sekar battleship.

  “Think they’ll hit Refuge 9?” asked Kroll.

  “I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

  Griffin piloted the Broadsword towards the wreck. The Gradior came from the east, while the Faxandil remained further out in the hope of intercepting any additional attacks. It was a tactic which had little chance of success. Even without the storm, the Raggers could easily attack a ground target. They might lose a few spaceships, but they’d accomplish Hass-Tei-112’s aim of denying the allied fleet access to whatever intel was available.

  “There goes a second incendiary,” said Shelton.

  “Where?”

  “This one’s portside of the battleship, sir. The Raggers have hit both sides now. They’re trying to eliminate our ground capabilities.”

  Griffin bit down on a stream of oaths. He increased speed and the Broadsword surged towards the blast which still roiled into the sky.

  Watching the live feed on his HUD, Griffin spotted a fast-moving disturbance, coming straight through the storm towards the Broadsword. He banked hard, too late to avoid any attack which might be incoming. The Ragger spaceship was past so quickly that his brain took a second to catch up.

  “Target!” said Dominguez.

  “Fire!”

  Lieutenant Jackson was good. Griffin didn’t know how she managed it so quickly, but she somehow got a missile lock before Dominguez fed through the sensor data. The rear clusters ejected their missiles and the warheads sped off in the direction of the receding enemy ship.

  The Ragger crew was also good. They ejected a swarm of interceptor missiles a split second after the Broadsword’s Ultor-VIs obtained a lock. Unfortunately for the enemy crew, their interceptor tech wasn’t up to the task. More than half of the Ultors were knocked out, while the others punched into the Ragger spaceship. The enemy craft was already too far distant for the details to be clear, but the sensors caught the flash of explosions.

  “Missiles incoming!” warned Jackson.

  A red alert glowed on Griffin’s console to warn him of the detection. Fifteen or twenty red dots, origin point unknown, moved rapidly across his display.

  “Not coming for us,” he said.

  The missiles struck the ground near to the battleship’s forward section. With the Broadsword so close, the sensors painted a clear picture. Several of the Ragger warheads were aimed at the scattered ground troops and the rest struck the Iron Cell transport. The Iron Cell was built to withstand punishment and, though it was engulfed in white-hot fire, Griffin thought it might survive the onslaught.

  For the ground troops, it was a different story. The Ragger attack took out another fifty or more human and Fangrin soldiers stationed near the Iron Cell. For the enemy, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. The only place the soldiers could take shelter was beneath the battleship and Griffin watched the surviving troops from the command and control unit rushing towards the crater.

  The Broadsword’s sensors detected a further wave of missiles and once again they could only approximate the launch point. These missiles rained down upon the area near the Sekar spaceship.

  “Where are they?” asked Griffin in fury.

  “We have multiple enemy warships in the vicinity, sir,” said Shelton. “I’d guess they’re delivering a payload and then getting out of here before we blow them to pieces.”

  A third wave of missiles followed the second and several detonated against the Sekar vessel. The others struck their targets with accuracy and the number of green receptors near the Iron Cell fell with each explosion. The Raggers were launching from such short range it was impossible for Lieutenant Jackson to fire interceptors. It was immensely frustrating to watch and be unable to respond.

  “Get me a target,” said Griffin. “We need to finish these bastards.”

  “You’ll know as soon as I do, sir.”

  Griffin flew the Broadsword directly over the Sekar battleship without slowing. The situation on the ground was disastrous. Although the Iron Cell was in one piece, its armor was badly cratered and Griffin suspected the interior was burned out as well. Other than that, Colonel Thornton’s diminished forces did what they could to get out of the firing line.

  The Raggers weren’t done.

  “Incendiary launch, eight thousand meters,” said Dominguez.

  “Dammit!” yelled Griffin.

  “Got it,” said Jackson. “Shredders locked and gone.”

  “Incendiary cannister destroyed.”

  Griffin banked hard towards the position of the incendiary drop and took the Broadsword into a steep climb. The heavy cruiser was too near the ground troops for him to give it anything like full thrust and he gritted his teeth in frustration at what felt like a snail’s pace ascent.

  “Anything?”

  “No, sir,” sa
id Dominguez. “Judging from the incendiary’s trajectory, whatever launched it was travelling due north at speed.”

  “Gone, then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A sudden feeling of despair hit Griffin. The situation on Glesia was unravelling and he worried the only viable course of action was to gather up and try to escape. Any thought of extracting the remaining ground forces seemed like a remote possibility at best.

  Admiral Yeringar had other ideas.

  “Updated orders coming through, sir,” said Kenyon. “We are to disperse – each warship has a predetermined course and ours is south. Engage freely where the odds favor a win.”

  “Disperse?” said Kroll. “What about the people in Refuge 9 and those at the battleship? Are we giving up and leaving them to the Raggers?”

  Griffin understood what Yeringar was doing. A grim smile came to his face.

  “We’re not giving up, Lieutenant. We’re going to do to the Raggers exactly what they just did to us.”

  “Hit and run?”

  “Yes - if the enemy want anything from the surface, they’ll have to set down. Every time they do it, we’ll hurt them. If we can’t have the battleship or the subsurface intel, the Raggers can’t have it either. And we’ve already got a foothold in Refuge 9.”

  “That plan won’t hold together for long, sir,” said Kroll. “What happens when the enemy reinforcements arrive?”

  “We’re doing something, Lieutenant, which is better than doing nothing. As it stands, the Raggers act and we react. Admiral Yeringar is about to turn the tables. Whether it’s enough is yet to be decided.”

  Kroll nodded. “Not every move in a conflict has to be decisive.”

  “That’s exactly right. Sometimes it’s enough to have the initiative.”