by PP Corcoran
“OK, First Sergeant here’s the plan…”
Less than five minutes later the four Scorpions troopers were lined up, one behind the other, at the edge of the tunnel entrance. With Vega’s help, Jackson had detached the Dusman reactor, which now lay propped against the tunnel wall beside a nervous-looking Anna Wong.
Tim was first in line and he briefly glanced at the worried picture of Anna in his rear-view camera pick-up. He wanted to say something reassuring to her, but when he had tried while waiting for Jackson to get ready, words had escaped him. Now he wished he had said something—anything before embarking on this last chance plan of his.
“Ready,” said last man Vega.
“Ready,” echoed Jackson.
“Ready,” repeated Croll.
“On my mark…Three…Two…One…Mark!”
The four men sprinted out of the tunnel entrance, and as they cleared the tunnel, they activated their jumpjets, sending them shooting into the sky. Tim and Croll cleared the tunnel before the Jivool could react to the unexpected maneuver. Jackson and Vega took a few hits but nothing that did any significant damage. Each CASPer settled into a hover at a height of one hundred feet as they scanned the area below them for targets.
Squad Leader Wela had made his men lie prone on the rocky ground to present as small a target as possible to anyone who took a shot at them from the mine entrance. Unfortunately for Wela and his squad, they now presented the biggest target possible to Tim and the hovering Scorpions, who gratefully took full advantage of his error. MAC, gun pod, and laser-fire rained down on the defenseless Jivool.
It was over in a matter of a few blood-soaked seconds.
“OK, people, well done. Let’s get some dirt back under our boots—” Tim’s congratulations were cut off by the urgent screeching of a threat warning receiver. Before he had a chance to shout a warning, the HecSha dropship screamed past, twin cannons in its nose mount blasting away at Jackson. The trooper had no chance to evade as depleted uranium rounds bigger than an adult’s forearm hammered into his CASPer, blowing chunks off it and the trooper inside. Jackson plummeted earthward, smashing into the ground and lying still.
Tim’s suit’s radar tracked the dropship as it banked hard around preparing to make another pass. “Spread out!” shouted Tim, but Croll and Vega had anticipated his command and had already moved further apart to provide a less-clustered target for the returning HecSha.
“I’m out of MAC rounds, Captain, and my gun pod’s nearly dry, too,” called Croll.
“Push him my way,” said Vega. “I’m green on MAC and gun pod.”
“You heard the man, First Sergeant,” Tim said as he watched the range to target wind down at an alarming rate. Tim settled the targeting reticule for his MAC on the left side of the cockpit and selected armor-piercing rounds. In the ammo pod below the MAC, the feed mechanism slipped across to the selected type and fed the first round into the breach. Tim held his position as the dropship grew larger in his vision. Wait…Wait…Wait…Now! Tim pushed the CASPer sideways as a finger of light flew from the twin guns of the dropship. Firing his own weapon, Tim sent a stream of armor-piercing rounds, which impacted the side of the speeding dropship, cracking off the armored cockpit glass and sending wild cracks across it.
The HecSha pilot flipped the craft away from the incoming fire directly into the path of the waiting Croll. The First Sergeant may not have had any ammo left for his MAC or gun pod but he did have his under-arm laser and he sent a near continuous burst at the cockpit. The pilot pulled the dropship further to the right causing the craft to slip onto its wingtip as it turned, exposing its less well protected underside.
Vega let loose with everything he had. 20-millimeter MAC, 8-millimeter gun pod, and finally his high-cyclic laser. Under the constant pounding the airframe buckled and came apart in midair, strewing pieces of dropship across the unforgiving surface of Kathal.
Killing his jumpjets, Tim lowered himself sedately to the ground. Anna came running over to him and hugged one metal leg, tears streaming down her cheeks below her rebreather. Croll and Vega landed beside the tunnel entrance and went in to recover the Dusman reactor.
“Oh, Tim. When I saw the CASPer falling from the sky I thought—I thought—” Her face dissolved into more tears.
Tim looked across to where Jackson’s suit had impacted the ground with such force that it was partially buried. The sight of the dead Jackson, like so many they had lost today, made Tim even more determined to get the few that had survived home. Looking over the two wrecked dropships that had brought them here from the Glambring, though, he had no idea how he was going to achieve that goal.
Croll and Vega reemerged from the tunnel, Vega carrying the reactor. With a touch of his controls the corporal used his jump jets to take him to the rim of the bowl.
“Captain Buchanan. You better get up here,” Vega called over the radio.
Croll jumped up beside Vega while Tim walked up with Anna by his side. When he reached the two men, they were both looking to the east where a low dust cloud appeared to be closing on them. Tim used his suit’s optics to enhance the dust cloud and the slab sides of an armored flitter sprang into focus.
Tim felt his head sag as he released a heavy sigh. He was low on everything. Croll was already out. Only Vega had anything left to fight with. Could he just not get a break?
“Eh, Captain,” said Croll, his voice sounding odd. Almost disbelieving.
“Now what? Has the devil himself decided to add to my bad day?”
“Not the devil, sir. I think it might be an angel.”
Tim refocused his optics on the approaching flitter only to see a dark spot behind it, which was growing in size at a remarkable rate as it gained on the speeding flitter. Seconds later, the outline of the Glambring emerged from the dark spot. It looked like those aboard the flitter had spotted the frigate thundering toward them, because the flitter’s pilot swerved violently, but then a blast from one of the Glambring’s laser missile defense pods sent the flitter and its occupants into oblivion.
As the Glambring got closer, it slowed to a crawl until it came to a full stop, hovering directly over the cluster of Humans, blasting them with dust and small stones whipped up by the Glambring’s engines. A bay door retracted and winch lines dropped down. The Scorpions troopers attached them to their suit lift points. Croll wrapped his arms around the reactor while Tim gently lifted Anna into his arms.
“Don’t you dare drop me, Tim Buchanan!” she shouted through the mini whirlwind.
With a slight jolt, the three CASPers were hoisted through the open bay door which closed smoothly after they had passed through, becoming a floor onto which they were lowered. A more breathable atmosphere was pumped into the bay and Captain Kothoo entered, accompanied by Oren Blair, Al, and Larras.
Tim cracked his suit and slipped down onto the deck to be joined by Croll and Vega. Anna stood protectively beside Tim, an arm wrapped around his waist. It was the first time she had been able to have physical contact with him since the nightmare on Kathal had begun, and she needed the intimacy to reassure her that nightmare was behind her.
Kothoo eyed them one at a time, his expression grave. Eventually his eyes fell on the dark lozenge of the Dusman reactor. He reached out and touched it reverently. “I hope this was worth the high price in blood we paid today.”
Tim looked at Anna before answering. “If it gets us back our planet then any price is worth paying.”
“Let’s get you lot cleaned up,” said Oren. “You all look a bit worse for wear.”
“And you smell a bit,” put in Al as his whiskers twitched.
“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” agreed Ethan Croll.
Oren draped his prosthetic arm around the first sergeant’s shoulder and whispered conspiratorially. “And then maybe a wee dram eh, Ethan?”
“It’s always drink with you, Oren,” moaned Al as he scampered after the two men.
Vega tapped at the leg of his suit which
hissed open to reveal a stubby carbine. Slipping it over his shoulder he took post behind and to one side of Anna.
Anna let out a small giggle. “It looks like my guardian angel is back on duty.”
“I think it’s safe to stand down now, Corporal Vega.” said Tim.
“The colonel said—” Vega stuttered to a stop. Alastair Sinclair was no longer in command of the Scorpions that bore his family name. Tim Buchanan was now the ranking officer. “You’re the boss, sir,” replied Vega as he unslung the carbine and headed off to find Croll, Oren, and the promised drink.
Larras was busily poking and prodding the Dusman reactor, ignoring what was going on around him until he noticed it had gone quiet. Turning his head, he found Tim and Anna looking at him.
“I take it you would have no objection if I had this moved down to Engineering so I can get a proper look at it?”
Anna waved a hand dismissively. “Take it, just don’t take it apart until I get a chance to examine it properly, OK?”
“Anything you say, Doctor Wong.” The Jeha started circling the reactor again while he tapped away at his slate.
“Penny for your thoughts,” said Anna, noticing that Tim was staring at the bay’s blank wall.
“Vega’s right you know,” said Tim in a low voice.
“About what?” asked Anna softly.
“Now that Alastair is—” Tim swallowed a lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Gone. And with no sign of Charlie, it makes me the Scorpions’ ranking officer.” A frown creased Tim’s forehead.
“Then I vote we find Oren and have that drink with the Scorpions that we are lucky enough to still have with us.”
“Who said you never have a good idea?” joked Tim, dancing beyond the reach of Anna’s playful swat.
* * *
The Glambring pulled herself out of the Kathal atmosphere and back into open space. Captain Kothoo began to relax until a call from his Communications Officer brought him back to full alert.
“Sir, we have an incoming transmission from a dropship pilot who claims he is carrying survivors of the HecSha cruiser Striking Talon.” The officer cocked his head to one side as if he could not quite believe what he was hearing. “Sir, the pilot says he is under duress and that a squad of Flatar have taken over his vessel and are now requesting asylum aboard the Glambring. They claim to have information that the Humans that assaulted the Dusman facility may find useful.”
Kothoo scratched his chin with one claw while he considered their request. “Very well; allow them to dock then escort the lot of them to the brig. Let’s get through the stargate and into hyperspace before we worry about what they have to say.”
Could this mission hold any more twists? thought Kothoo as he watched the HecSha dropship dock. Its passengers were escorted to the brig while the Glambring kept up a steady acceleration as it made its way to the stargate.
As the frigate passed Moon 5, radar reported two contacts traveling at high speed for Kathal. That would be the Besquith returning to find out what had happened to the facility they were meant to be guarding. Kothoo let out a little chuckle. I would love to be a fly on the wall when somebody had to explain what had happened to General Peepo.
Two hours later, the Glambring transited through the stargate and an exhausted Kothoo headed to his cabin for a well-deserved night’s sleep. Passing the Officers’ Mess, he heard a caterwauling that could only have been Oren Blair singing at the top of his voice. Let them party, thought the elSha. They deserve it.
* * * * *
Chapter Eighteen
Choices
Tim Buchanan sat quietly at the table in the cramped Officers’ Mess of the Glambring. The coffee in his cup had long since gone cold, and the steward had prudently left the mercenary officer to his thoughts.
The entrance door slid to one side to admit Captain Kothoo and the steward began pouring the fresh apple juice the elSha captain favored.
Kothoo pointed a slim finger toward Buchanan’s table and sidled over. Tim didn’t notice his presence which forced Kothoo to clear his throat, loudly. Blinking in surprise Tim started to stand, but Kothoo raised an open hand stopping him mid-way.
“Please, Tim, remain seated.” Kothoo tilted his head to one side while his mouth dropped slightly in the elSha equivalent to a chortle. “In theory, since you have inherited our friend Alastair’s position, you are now Commander of the Mission and, therefore, outrank me.”
A lazy grin split Tim’s gloomy features. “I suppose you are right there, but I’ve no intention on pulling rank. Besides—” Tim paused as the steward arrived with an apple juice for Kothoo and a fresh, steaming coffee for himself before retreating into the kitchen. “We are on our way back to New Warsaw now, and I don’t see much happening between now and our arrival.”
“Talking of things happening, how was your little chat with our new Flatar friends?” asked Kothoo.
Tim gave a wistful shake of his head. “Those boys are certainly something. They considered their contract to be null and void with the destruction of the Striking Talon and had every intention of hitching a lift on the next ship headed for civilized space. Until, that was, the Jivool currently residing in Sick Bay decided to open his big mouth and blab all about how his uncle, who happened to be the Jivool merc commander, had told him that once Peepo had finished with Humans then her next target could very well be the Flatar. Whether that is true or not, though, remains to be seen.”
Kothoo took a sip of his juice and savored the bitter taste as it passed down his throat. The elSha really should grow apples on their home planet. Maybe he would start his own orchard when he retired.
Cutting short his musings, he returned to the matter at hand. “I take it the Flatar were unimpressed at the Jivool’s suggestion, thus, his residency in Sick Bay?”
“That and not being strapped in when the cruiser exploded. Apparently, it was a bit of a rough ride.”
The elSha winced as he imagined being within touching distance of a vaporizing HecSha cruiser. “What about their current accommodations?”
Tim shrugged. “They seem happy enough. Their leader, Urral, understands that we just can’t let them have the run of the ship. He asked for a pack of cards and some gambling chips.”
“There is no gambling aboard my ship I can assure you, Tim,” said Kothoo firmly.
“So the bosun’s mate assured me. I had to have the cards and chips especially manufactured. When I gave them to Urral, he and his friends started a game. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are still playing by the time we reach New Warsaw.”
Kothoo turned to a more sensitive subject. “Was the Dusman reactor everything we hoped for?”
Tim nodded affirmatively. “According to Anna and Larras it performs as advertised. Providing Jim Cartwright can keep up his end of the deal and procure some Raknar or if we end up relying on Jamie to steal some, then Anna assures me that given time and resources, she can replicate the reactor in sufficient numbers for what we have planned.”
The mention of Jamie Sinclair caused Tim a fresh wave of anguish. How am I going to tell him of his father’s death? he mused.
Kothoo noted the change of mood and sought to lighten things up.
“And how are things between you and Doctor Wong?”
“You know, Captain,” Tim said as he hid a smile behind his raised coffee cup, “I do believe that you are an old gossip.”
Kothoo laughed aloud. “I am only concerned about the morale of my crew,” he said innocently.
“Of course you are.” Tim grinned. “How about we have some breakfast?” He asked, smoothly changing the subject.
“Excellent idea,” said Kothoo, beckoning the steward who had invisibly reappeared. “Then, perhaps, you can share the name of that song Oren murdered last night?”
Tim and Kothoo laughed at the expense of the Scotsman.
* * *
Kate Preissman felt like screaming, but she refrained for fear of scaring the living daylights out of
her bridge crew. Instead, she took a deep breath and let it out through her thin lips. She had made a solemn promise to Alastair that she would find Charlie, his eldest boy, and now she had a difficult decision to make.
The Salamanca had arrived in Uiok, where the Zuparti freighter carrying Charlie and two platoons of Gamma Company were thought to be, only to find the freighter had departed five hours before. Now, she must get her priorities right and balance the needs of her flesh and blood family against that of her adopted family, the crew of Salamanca.
Hak Voslo, the freighter’s second in command, entered the bridge and halted beside her chair. He was close enough that Kate and the Veetch could hold a private conversation, if they kept their voices low.
“Have you come to a decision, Captain?” inquired Hak. He served Kate, now, as had his father before him; the Human and Veetch pair had developed a bond deeper and more personal than friendship. Often likened to an old, married couple, they could hold conversations without actually exchanging any spoken words.
“Are we sure they were aboard the Tla’koz when it left the system? Charlie has his father’s knack for subterfuge and he could well have sent the Tla’koz ahead to Earth while he hides out here for a while and then charters transportation on a different vessel at a later date.”
Hak remained silent. He knew Kate was not questioning him, rather she argued with her inner self to avoid the difficult decision she knew, in her heart, was the right one.
The pair lapsed into silence for several minutes until, with a sharp intake of breath, Kate tugged up her sleeves and settled herself more comfortably in her command chair. “Very well, Mr. Voslo. Prepare the ship for departure. Contact the stargate and arrange a departure time.” Kate fingered the small key hanging from its chain under her uniform blouse.
The key stayed with her at all times, asleep or awake. The little piece of jewelry contained a onetime encryption code which, when inserted into the navigation computer of the Salamanca on entering hyperspace would supply the coordinates of New Warsaw, home of the Winged Hussars.
