Salvage Conquest Page 13

  “They have a troop of twelve in the pod, but there’s a problem.”

  “Spit it out, Trebi.”

  “One of them is a robot. Your plan won’t work with that one.”

  “Shit,” I cursed. “ETA?”

  “Seven minutes.”

  “Corca,” I turned to her. “How quick can you get down there?”

  She unstrapped from the chair with a wide grin.

  “Strap into the closest chair for gees. Let me know when you’re ready.”

  She nodded and ducked out of the hatch.

  I shook my head as Drake watched her leave with a look of awe.

  “What is she going to do?” he asked.

  “You ever seen someone tear the legs off a slivark?”

  “Oh,” he said with wide eyes. “She’s that strong?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh, my.”

  The minutes counted down. There was a slight shudder as the pod hit the hull and blew a hole in Cargo 5.

  “Corca?”

  “They’re inside the bay,” Gina said.

  “I am ready,” Corca said through the comm.

  “Trebi, kick this pig!”

  The grav plates hummed as they took the pressure. All except Cargo 5. Eleven assault troops were turned to paste in the bay. One trooper continued forward to reach the good grav plates at the bulkhead.

  “Stop.”

  Trebi stopped the thrust.

  A moment later, the robot reached the hatch. As the door opened, huge hands yanked the robot through.

  I grinned. “Turn to port twenty-four degrees.”

  “Oh, boy,” Trebi said as I used my implant to take control of the main gunner console.

  The Empire ship was directly behind us when I opened up with the rear pulse cannon.

  “Hell, yeah,” Gina muttered as she watched the Kyoto explode from the massive holes in her hull.

  “Best speed to the gate, Trebi.”

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  “Now, Doc,” I said sitting across from the man in the war room of the former warship. “There’d better be some damn good reasons we just had to shoot our way out of our home system.”

  Kaito dropped his head in resignation. “I am from the Empire of the Sun. Our system is relatively close to Leeander. We are approximately ten months apart without gate travel. Leeander has rich mineral deposits that my world wants.

  “A war would be too costly, so they created the plague. It was slipped to some of our agents on Leeander and was released by some of their own. They have a fleet waiting two weeks out from Leeander to move in as soon as they see the gate has been shut down.”

  “If they get caught, they lose their gate,” I said. “What do they think they’re doing? The Bith don’t just shut down a gate. They investigate the whole thing. A few radicals aren’t going to get away with this sort of thing.”

  “This has been put together over the last fifteen years, Mister Warrick. It is not a small group of radicals. It is a faction in the government that wants to rule. They think they can get away with it, because they put it in the hands of a radical group. There are schemes within schemes at play here. There would have been an ‘accident’ to remove the contacts my people used. The whole thing was designed to be discovered, but all ties to the Empire have been eliminated. “

  “Except you,” I said.

  “Except me.” He nodded. “This case holds a cure for that manufactured plague. It also holds proof of the Empire’s complicity in this travesty. Without the cure, there will be hundreds of thousands who die on Leeander. War would have cost less in lives, but the Empire cares not for Leeander lives.”

  “That is, possibly, the most horrible thing I have ever heard, Doc.” I leaned back in my chair. “What part did you play in all of this?”

  “I was part of the team that created the plague.”

  “What?!”

  “My wife was held by the Empire. She found out what was happening and managed to slit her wrists with a bed spring. She had more courage than I have ever possessed. She refused to be a hostage to the murder of all of those people. I stole the data, and I stole the credit to escape.”

  “I want that data.” I stood up. “Before I risk anymore, I want to check the data and see if you’re lying to me. You going to be alright with that?”

  “You have already saved my life many times over, Mister Warrick. I will leave it in your care.”

  He stood up and laid the case on the table. I could see that it took a lot for the man to part with it after all he’d gone through. I watched the doctor walk out of the war room and triggered the comms.

  “All hands to the war room. We’re seven days from Leeander, and we need to talk.”

  An hour and a half later, I sat looking across the table at several stunned faces.

  “I hate people,” Trebi said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “Horas is as guilty as the others,” Gina said with a sour look on her face.

  “They had his wife.”

  “That’s a lot of lives to trade for one,” she said. “Not sure I could do that.”

  “I joined a rebellion because of one life.”

  “They killed your son,” Gina said.

  “And I killed thousands of sons and daughters.”

  “That’s different,” Drake said. “The rebellion was right. This is an atrocity.”

  Trebi and Corca were both looking at me with new eyes. Neither they nor Seg had known what I did. They had joined me much more recently than Dallas, who knew me from the war.

  Seg had his foremost legs locked onto the back of the seat, and his black eyes seemed to stare into my soul. His carapace was dull instead of its normal, shimmering blue. He was upset by the news I had imparted. Usually Seg just kept to himself and did his job.

  He chittered, and the translator said, “This one knows nothing of your former deeds, Max Warrick, but you have been a good leader since this one has become part of your crew. This thing that is being done to the beings of Leeander is evil. It must be stopped. I go back to work.”

  The Smilp dropped from the chair and exited the room.

  “He doesn’t say much,” Trebi said. “What he says is true, though. We have to stop it.”

  “Then we go forward with the mission?”

  Corca nodded.

  Erik Jacobi said, “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but never something like this. We stop it if we can.”

  “You know I’m right behind you, sir,” Dallas said. “Might get to kill somethin’ after all.”

  “All of the data checked out?” Gina asked.

  “All of it. The designer plague, the cure, all of the connections are right there in the case. We can give it to the Bith when we arrive, and drop the cure in a pod to the people down there.”

  “Then I’m in,” she said.

  “I go where she tells me,” Drake said. “If she doesn’t tell me, I’ll go with you.”

  “Then we exit the gate in seven days. Jacobi, you join me in the Med Bay. We need to see to part of our deal. My systems are ten years out of date, but ten year old Marine augments should still be pretty damn good.”

  The grin on his face was agreement enough.

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  We dropped through the gate into the Leeander system, and my implant started gathering data from the scanners.

  “Incoming message from the Bith,” Gina said.

  “Put it on.”

  “Incoming vessel, you are warned, this gate is in the process of being closed. Return immediately or remain in this closed system.”

  “Bith Control,” I returned. “We have information pertaining to the investigation of this system. We would like to turn it over to—”

  “The investigation has been finished. The investigators have left the system. If you wish to appeal, return through the gate immediately, and report to the Appeals Bureau in the Bith System.”

  “But we h
ave to deliver a cure for this plague or—”

  “The gate will close in two hours.”

  “But—”

  “The signal is cut, sir.”

  “You heard them,” I said. “Deliver or go to Bith. I can’t make this decision for you. I’ll take the shuttle in-system and drop the package.”

  “Boss,” Trebi said. “Shuttle’s not going to make it through that.”

  The sensors were just getting the information from further in-system. There were hundreds of ships coming toward the gate.

  “Are they shooting at each other?” Gina asked.

  “That’s exactly what they’re doing,” I said. I shook my head. “They’re panicking. None of them can reach the gate before it closes, but they are all determined to be the first through.”

  “Shuttle can’t make it through that,” Gina said. “We need to deliver the package.”

  Trebi nodded.

  “We all discussed this already, Captain,” Jacobi said over the comm. Do it.”

  “Alright, Trebi,” I said. “Take us in.”

  The ship moved forward, and Dallas tapped Drake on the shoulder. “Can I take the guns? I really want to kill something.’”

  “Sure,” he answered and switched seats with Dallas.

  “There’s not going to be anyone left to kill, Dee,” Trebi said.

  “Shit.”

  She was right; almost every ship in the mad dash was a floating derelict by the time we reached them.

  “Ridiculous,” I muttered.

  “Doc, get up here!” I ordered. “Send your signal.”

  “Time’s up, Boss,” Trebi said as the viewport showed the Bith ship that had been manning the gate enter it.

  There was a hollow pit in my stomach as I saw the ship vanish. It was an eight-month trip to the closest gate, and it was in a hostile system.

  “Shit,” I muttered. Then in a louder voice I said, “We’ll make the drop on Leeander and come back out and see if anyone survived this mess.”

  Surprisingly, the drop went off without any issues.

  “If we had been a week sooner, the damn Bith investigators would have still been here,” I said as we left orbit, heading toward the wreckage of just about every ship in the system.

  “What next, Boss?” Trebi asked.

  I looked over into expectant faces, and I began to feel a burning feeling instead of that hollow pit in my stomach.

  “I’ve seen that look before,” Gina said with a grin.

  “I have to say, I am well and truly pissed off.” I stood up from the command chair. “Trebi, scan that wreckage.”

  “What am I looking for, Boss?”

  “Missiles.”

  “Oh, yes, I’ve seen that look before,” Gina was smiling wider.

  “Scans say there are two hundred and ten unused missiles in the wreckage.”

  That burning inside increased.

  “The fleet will see what happened here in about ten days. Then it will take them a couple of weeks to get here. I think we should give them a warm welcome. We blow the cargo bays and salvage those missiles—”

  “One thing, Boss,” Dallas interrupted. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get that pallet of Dromian Skal out of Cargo 3 before we blow it.”

  “You can’t drink a whole pallet of Skal, Dallas.”

  “I can try.”

  “Alright then. Get the pallet of Jirool out of Cargo 4 and put it in the galley. We’re going to eat well, too.”

  “Mister Warrick?”

  I turned to the doctor. “What?”

  “The Empire’s fleet has forty ships.”

  “We have the Screaming Eagle,” I said. “The finest battleship to ever leave the Pyricon Shipyards. Odds are about even.”

  “The only battleship,” Gina said. “Pyricon never reopened after you blew it up.”

  “Battleship?” he asked. “I thought this was a cargo vessel.”

  “You have no idea, Doc,” I said and left the bridge to enter the room next door. It hadn’t been opened in a while. There was a crate in the center of the room, strapped to a table.

  I popped the clasps on the straps and opened the chest. The garment inside was blue with a red and white pinstripe. Neatly arrayed on the top was the Glorious Star of Freedom medal and the triple sunburst pin of the Commander in Chief of the Freedom Fighters.

  “Hmph,” I grunted. “Wonder if it still fits?”

  “I’m guessing it does,” Gina said from behind me. “But you don’t need it. The Freedom Fighters are long gone.”

  She moved in closer to me, and I stared into her grey eyes. “I should have come to you.”

  “I should have looked for you,” I said.

  “We’re both here now.”

  Then she was in my arms.

  * * * * *

  Christopher Woods Bio

  Christopher Woods, writer of fiction, teller of tales, and professional liar, was born in 1970 and has spent most of his life with a book in hand. He is known for his popular Soulguard series as well as creating the shared universe in The Fallen World series. He has also written several short stories and the novel, “Legend” in the Four Horsemen Universe. With books ranging from fantasy to post-apocalyptic science fiction and military science fiction, there should be something for everyone. He lives in Woodbury, TN with his wife, Wendy. As a former carpenter of 25 years, he spends his time between various building projects and writing new books. To contact him go to https://theprofessionalliar.com and send him a message or find him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/chris.woods.37.

  # # # # #

  No Room for Error by Kevin Ikenberry

  Under any other circumstance, the planet Crea in the Tausette system would have been a perfect destination for a well-deserved vacation. The early morning sky was a translucent blue, like nothing he’d seen before. Certainly not from within the protective domes on their frozen Withaloo home world. High clouds drifted toward the light from the morning sun. Darkened mountains with exposed, rocky summits glistened in the sunlight. From his position atop his XMA-611 Bruiser Assault Tank, Lieutenant Colonel Zheta glanced to his left and right over his main defensive line—a company of 25 tanks that had once been more than a hundred. He nodded with quiet satisfaction. They’d chosen the best available terrain for what appeared to be the final fight. Six weeks before, the Withaloo colony on Crea had come under attack from a previously unknown insectoid race. His forces responded quickly, but not fast enough to save the bulk of the colony and their small mining operation. Faced with a confident military force, the enemy turned to systematically annihilating his forces and sparing the civilian colonists. There was little doubt the insects wanted their elimination, which spelled disaster for the colonists and his forces. He’d called for reinforcements, knowing that Colonel Arthok and his army were decisively engaged in a contract across the galaxy. The only hope they had was to make a stand.

  Whoever they were, and whatever they wanted, the insects understood the terrain, and they used it to every possible advantage. The high ground overlooking the small valley gave him an unrestricted view for several kilometers in every direction. From what he could see, the enemy’s most likely course of action was to use the valley as an avenue of approach to attempt to breach his line. With the company of armor at his command, Zheta smiled at his chances. Whenever armored forces faced each other, it was a slugfest. When armored forces confronted infantry, history tended to favor the speed, firepower, and protection of the armor. Then again, history was written by the victors.

  He’d been watching the terrain for about an hour, idly noting the passage of strange avians, drifting on currents aloft and generally from west to east, when he’d first noticed the dust cloud. The rising plume of tan debris stood out against the dark, purplish shade of the distant mountains to the south. Bearing southwest from his position, two large peaks standing over 3,000 meters tall dominated the skyline. One angled sharply to the east while the other angled in the opposite d
irection, resulting in their appearing like two razor-sharp teeth. Between them, marking the southern entrance of the valley was the dust cloud. As Zheta dropped into the turret of his tank and activated his information screens to see the battle space in its entirety, he selected a drone relay feed and instantly connected to an autonomous flying vehicle high above the valley and fifty kilometers to the south.

  He’d been expecting them.

  The high-altitude drone’s cameras gave him a unique viewpoint to observe the enemy’s squat and oblong vehicles that appeared to hover a meter above the ground. From 20,000 meters above, and with incredible resolution and definition, Zheta could see every move they made with incredible clarity. Centering the main cursor on the dust cloud, he zoomed the lenses in as close as possible. The insects’ forces had massed and were moving north. He couldn’t guess their rate of speed, so he directed the drone to monitor, calculate, and then relay the enemy’s speed and estimated time of arrival to his defensive perimeter. The calculations took a few seconds. In less than an hour, Zheta’s forces would be engaged in combat, perhaps for the last time.

  It was a strangely euphoric feeling. Despite the recent weeks of conflict with its probing attacks and skirmishes, it had been far too long since he’d brought the full brunt of the Withaloo armored forces to bear against a powerful and committed enemy. The thrill of his depleted, though capable, company of tanks standing against 4,000 mechanized infantry forces brought a smile to his maw. The enemy’s sleds and skiffs would be no match for the resolute armor of the Bruisers and their reconnaissance counterparts, the Hammers. From what he could observe, the walking mechs that typified modern infantry combat seemed to be non-existent in the enemy’s formation. Without the benefit of technology, they’d decided to employ the most dangerous combat power available to them: sheer mass.

  From the horizon to the west came the sound of spooling engines. Turning in that direction, his eyes traced the wide, flat top of the terrain feature he’d discovered was called a mesa. Somewhere up there was the remainder of the aviation assets they’d fielded. Like their ground counterparts, the fighters and support aircraft had taken heavy losses throughout the campaign. As Zheta watched, three sleek, angular interceptors and a scout flyer popped from behind the mesa at tree-top level and moved south, slowly. The scout flyer suddenly accelerated and upon reaching the edge of the mesa pitched forward and raced down the southern face of the terrain feature at treetop level. Once down in the valley, the scout flyer sped much faster than he’d seen them travel before and left the fighters behind.