Hell's Razer
Page 26
“What about the beam cannons, sir?” Nash asked with a visible shiver. “We’ve all seen what one of those can do to a fighter or bomber. They don’t leave enough to fill a data card case.”
Memories of the glittering death beams flashed through Trevis’ memories. He had no intention of ever meeting one of them head on. Death there would be quick, but he had much left to do in this life.
The Captain highlighted the beam domes. “Analysis indicates that the lower beam dome may have one functional beam cannon out of the three. But the readings were erratic, so I wouldn’t expect anything more powerful than a scattering beam.” As a primarily defensive craft, the Corsicaa Frigate would escort larger ships. The massive beam cannons, while able to pierce most craft, were most frequently set to disperse their plasma to destroy incoming warheads and scatter energy weapon blasts. The tactic was effective, and with six such weapons at its disposal made the craft a formidable obstacle to overcome. “The upper dome appears to have two beam cannons still online. A properly coordinated assault should prove able to defang the beast. As for your insertion, I have a better plan.” The Captain winked at the hologram and it morphed into a new form, a Special Operations Combat Insertion modified Feral-F Bomber.
Trevis rolled his neck uncomfortably. He’d last seen one of these modified Ferals back at the academy. The cramped conditions within had left his massive frame aching for half a decle. The idea of having to climb inside one of the Special Operations Combat Insertion Pods they carried was not something any of them had any desire to do. “Captain, be your plan to have us ride SOCIPs into the ship?”
The Captain nodded. The hint of a feral grin, the same type Zithe would display, twisted his lips. “It is.” He stomped the floor of the dropship. “This dropship and others will accompany you along with a contingent of forty marines to assist in holding the ship once secured.”
Telsh approached, an eyebrow raised. “Sir, be we planning on making an extended stay aboard the frigate?”
“Yes, Officer Telsh. This isn’t some corvette you can just ride out of there. This is a battle-worn frigate with a haggard and desperate crew. Our plans for it are fluid at the moment, so whether we leave it in place, or bring it home, we have to prepare for our people to be aboard for a long while. Readings indicate that the slipstream drive is unstable, so it’ll have to limp along on its standard engines. Considering the damage sustained, I doubt it could make even three gees of sustained acceleration.”
Trevis looked about at his team. They all looked ready, but he could read the trepidation in many of their faces. “Sir, the travel time be...”
“It is currently located just off the jump point into the Ketig Green nebula. Current estimates from navigation plot you making two jumps to get there, transitioning through the Neshid system. Total travel time will be pushing a cycle in and out of hyperspace.”
Several of the team groaned. No one wanted to be in a SOCIP that long.
“Tadeh Qudas says you are the best he’s ever trained. So don’t come griping to me,” the Captain barked. “You’ll stage just off the Neshid jump point and load into your SOCIPs. The Powell may be expecting trouble at this point, so don’t expect a smooth ride.”
Trevis stood straight, looking between the Captain and Tadeh Qudas. “Aye, sir. We not be letting you down.” He turned to the rest of the team. “Be gathering your gear and getting it loaded into the Feral and SOCIPs.” He turned back to the Captain. “With your leave sir, we be getting ready to depart as soon as be possible.”
“Get to it,” Tadeh Qudas ordered. “The marines are being briefed now and will board as soon as they’re ready.”
“Good luck Officer Trevis, get us that ship, and bring your people home alive.”
UCSB Date: 1005.228
SOCIP-1A, Ketig Nebula
Trevis’ teeth threatened to shatter he was clenching his jaw so tight. He was effectively cut off from the rest of the universe within his Special Operations Combat Insertion Pod save for the sporadic updates from the bomber crew. The g-forces that slammed him about in his harness gave him his only idea of what was going on. Six such pods remained in the bomber’s twin rotary launchers, each containing two members of his team. He shared his with Telsh. The bomber twisted about and he felt her hand touch his. He resisted the temptation to twist about and look at her. This bomber had already fired off four torpedoes in the coordinated attack to disarm the GFS-Powell. One more cog in the Captain’s plan to capture or destroy the GFS-Barker.
Trevis gritted his teeth as the conversation continued before the bombardier contacted him. “Explosions Lead, we are preparing for our insertion run. Are you ready down there?”
Trevis took a deep breath, and felt a familiar quake of anticipation. This was it. “Be copying. Standing by for your run.” He felt Telsh stiffen at the announcement, the sound reverberating through the frame that held them together.
To the Explosions’ credit, the link went silent before the bomber turned again. The launcher rotated, slamming Trevis and Telsh’s SOCIP into the launch tube. The bulkhead at his feet vibrated as the torpedo’s engine spun up for launch. Relays clicked on and off all around him and the bulkhead above his head began to warm as the plasma lance primed. A small screen before him lit up, displaying the SOCIP’s status:
Target Locked
Target data transferred to onboard computer
INS ACTIVE
Safeties disengaged
Trevis tensed in anticipation. Adrenaline flooded his system. His whole body shook.
Launch prep complete
Holdback latch disengaged
The series of status lines that scrolled past next were a blur. An instant later, with a deafening roar inside the compartment, the SOCIP launched.
The g-forces would have crushed Trevis’ bones into dust had it not been for the Acceleration Compensators. These single-use units were prone to burnout and he wouldn’t be surprised if he emerged from his SOCIP a few centimetra shorter for the experience. The pod jerked about as it homed in on its target, but did not fly an evasion course. The bombers had done their jobs, stripping away the frigate’s defensive turrets and shields, allowing them to board unmolested. The pod shuddered again as the plasma lance lit. Trevis’ harness dug into his shoulders and his vision blurred red as they began to slow. He groaned along with the internal structure. Torpedoes were not designed to slow down and the SOCIP reminded them of that.
Trevis braced as the pod slammed to a halt. The engine at his feet continued to burn, putting out more force than the plasma lance as it cut into the hull of the damaged frigate. The pod jerked forward a moment later and came crashing to a halt before the engine shut down. Trevis had no time to assess the situation before the hatch in front of Telsh exploded free. She fell away and rolled aside before the rack he was strapped to swung around and released him.
Trevis swept the area with his rifle. The passageway they were in was empty save for the pair and the SOCIP. Beacons began to light up his HUD displaying the positions of the rest of his team. Most were still moving at high speed, but Porc and Nash were only a hundred metra away. He looked back at the SOCIP, sealant foam had already filled in the breach around it. The minimum safe distance meter and a countdown timer appeared in his HUD. Trevis flashed back to his map and set a rendezvous waypoint then motioned to Telsh to move out.
The pair bounded away towards the point he’d established. They passed two bulkheads on the way before his countdown neared zero. He motioned Telsh to stop. The two of them threw themselves against the bulkhead. The Photon Detonator inside the SOCIP exploded, cleaving a fifty metra hole out of the hul
l. The pressure wave threatened to throw Trevis from his feet before the vacuum tore him back towards the explosion. He held fast for what seemed like an eternity before the blast doors slammed shut behind him. The automated system to preserve what remained of the frigate’s atmosphere was at least still working.
Nodding to Telsh, he prepared to move out. She motioned to the opposite bulkhead. A glance to his left showed the countdown for Porc and Nash’s SOCIP hit zero. He bit back a curse as the shockwave pushed him back into the blast door before the vacuum took hold. He skidded across the deck. Telsh reached out to help him, her maglocks keeping her feet planted to the deck. Trevis reached back and his stomach twisted. He was already out of reach. Before he could reach the next bulkhead, the torrent ended.
Trevis sat there for a moment. The readings in his helmet were not encouraging. While pressure had been returned to the section, it was low, half standard. This ship was fighting to stay alive. Worse, without a properly functioning life-support system, Lindil’s team would have no effective means to deploy their knockout gas. Porc came around the bend, Nash on his heels and Trevis had an idea.
Porc shrugged then tilted his head in thought.
Before Trevis could answer the ship quavered beneath their feet. He checked the status of the other two fireteams. Ller’s fireteam had made successful insertion near the starboard engine and had detonated their SOCIPs. That afforded them almost unfettered access to main engineering. Lindil’s team was cents from impact on the other side of the ship and the nearby environmental central control station.
Trevis looked back at his team.
“Explosions Lead, Alpha Claw, all packages inserted. We are breaking off our attack. Security One is on station and playing dead.”
Trevis checked his display. The lead bomber was correct. Everyone had deployed and the Drokar Class Dropships, with their contingent of marines aboard, drifted alongside. A holographic mask left them disguised as disabled bombers. “Explosions Lead be confirming. Be staying within link range just to being sure.”
“Copy all. Good luck.”
Trevis motioned towards the nearest ladderwell with his rifle and took off running. The rest of his team followed along. The ship was a mess. None of this was new. It was obvious that the crew had attempted to repair the damage dished out during the battle with the Wolfsbane’s battlegroup. Access panels lay open everywhere, components common to more critical systems removed. Trevis looked up at several security sensors as they passed. No EM signatures emanated from any of them. The crew hadn’t expected a capture team.
Trevis checked an air vent at the next junction. No air flowed. He looked over at Telsh as she felt another vent and shook her head. At least in this part of the ship, the life-support systems were not circulating.
A flash from Ller showed that they were in position.
Trevis didn’t like the sound of that. Taking engineering would be critical, but if a large force was present it could cost them not only time, but lives.
Before Trevis could respond the whole ship shuddered and jumped beneath their feet. He looked around at his team. He felt sure that perplexed and astonished faces waited behind the blank face shields of their helmets.
Porc already had his gun up. There was no more time for sneaking around. This mission just turned into a run and gun.
They were still two decks away from the Command and Control center acting as the secondary bridge. Trevis raised his rifle and vaulted down the next ladderwell. Porc took point as they raced through the ship before the dim warning claxons changed and a security alert rang out. The enemy knew they were aboard.
A security officer stumbled out of a room as Porc ran his way. The hapless guard didn’t even have time to raise his weapon before Porc dispatched him with a trio of rounds to the chest. Porc didn’t even miss a step.
Nearing the final ladderwell, Trevis felt each footfall slow, and every step propel him that much further. His final step threatened to throw him into the ceiling. A quick look at his g-meter confirmed why. The graviton spinners the Galactic Federation favored on these ships had begun to fail, and with them, the limited artificial gravity. Unlike Confed gravity plating, the spinners were energy intensive with limited reserves to draw on. That made them one of the first systems to face shutdown.
Trevis’ threat display revealed even more grim news. Dozens of contacts awaited them on the deck below. With a flash of hand signals, the four of them circled the ladderwell. Trevis patted the bottom of his rifle up, let it fall slowly back into his hands. Telsh fingered the grenades on her hip. Were this any other mission she might just drop a pair down into the waiting troops before Porc dropped down behind them. In the weakened gravity, that plan required amendments.
Trevis nodded to Porc and Nash then motioned towards the ceiling. Even with the micomm link, old habits on stealth remained true. The pair leapt to the ceiling in the low gravity and grabbed onto the light fixtures while Telsh and Trevis each grabbed a pair of grenades. Standing opposite each other, a grenade in each hand, Trevis nodded. He threw his two grenades down, crossways as Telsh followed suit, throwing her pair in the opposite direction to Trevis’.
Porc and Nash didn’t even wait for the grenades to explode before they leapt towards the opening. The four detonations shook the deck before Porc and Nash burst through. They had barely cleared the ceiling before they began to lay waste to the space with their rifles.
Trevis jumped in after them. His rifle shook in his hands as he lay down indiscriminate fire. He hated the way these new Hyperstrikes handled. Blazer might talk them up, but they were horrid at sustained mass-driver fire. He preferred his old Thunder-Chief with its separate barrels for mass-driver and plaser.
Trevis landed and dumped out his first magazine, reminding him of another thing he liked about the Thunder-Chief: he could at least continue to fire the plaser while he reloaded with it. He couldn’t do that with the Hyperstrike. It took the weapon almost as long to reconfigure as he could execute a tactical reload. He jammed the next magazine home and surveyed the scene, seeing carnage everywhere.
The few remaining Geffers attempted a tactical withdrawal. Trevis raised his weapon, sighted a reptilian Krad with the biggest gun in the group and fired. A three-round burst shook his shoulder in the low gravity. It did far worse to the Krad, tearing its head away.
Smouldering and bleeding bodies in their dirty pressure suits littered the now quiet passageway. Trevis’ eyes went wide with realization. They were ready for vacuum.
Porc didn’t bother to wait for the order on Trevis’ lips. He bounded down the passageway towards Command and Control. As he reached the cross passage however a hail of plaser f
ire met the impetuous Nerzain. Trevis felt his hearts leap into his throat.
Trevis and the others rushed forward as Porc fell, in slow motion, to the deck. They could only watch as more of his armor ablated away with each blast. As he ran, Trevis spotted a piece of decking against the wall and grabbed it. Without even thinking, he ran into the cross passage, holding the piece of plating between him and the enemy fire. To his amazement, it held under the onslaught. The plasma blasts ricocheted off, but each one dumped heat into it. Red marks multiplied across the plate, grew and converged with each passing cent. He looked back at Porc. His chest heaved and bucked as he sucked in air through his shattered helmet, his face a mask of rage and pain.
Still dazed and his chest armor gone, and his strength-enhancing body glove reduced to tatters, Porc sat up. He fingered his scorched and bloodied chest, winced in pain. Filled with anger, Porc tore away what remained of his helmet before he lifted his rifle back to the ready. Agony marred his face as he fought his way back to his feet. His back armor fell away and his quills began to stand erect. “Time to frag some critches to Sheol and back!”
The defenders opened fire again. Their assault was less intense and sporadic, but Telsh and Nash kept their heads down. Then the whole ship shuddered again.