Alabaster Noon Page 28
The Dusman with the eyepatch turned to another, who nodded slowly. “It will take us a little longer,” Eyepatch said, “but it can be done.”
“I’m good with this plan,” Alvarado said. “I’m sure Captain Wolf will be as well. Hitting hard and fast is what the Cavaliers do best.” Buddha nodded.
“Okay, then,” Good said. “As far as timing goes, here’s what we’ll do…”
* * *
Merc Guild Detention Facility, Ubatuba, Brazil, Earth
“Get up, scum!”
Jim jerked awake at the sharp kick to his side. He rolled away from the kick, hissing in pain and trying to wake up. “What the fuck do you want?” It was one of the loathsome Varangian Guard. Not the sadistic Corporal Romanov, who enjoyed inflicting pain, though it seemed they were all inclined to hurt people.
“Time to go meet your fate, boy.”
Jim felt his blood run cold. Were they about to execute him? His face must have betrayed the fear he felt because the man laughed.
“No, we ain’t gonna kill you. General Peepo is taking you to the Mercenary Guild headquarters.”
“I thought they were taking me to Betall,” Jim said.
“They was. Seems your merc friends have slipped the noose she set for them. They’re taking you to the guild headquarters instead. After you spill the beans, you’ll stand trial.”
“Slipped the noose?” Jim repeated. “Wait, Peepo lost at New Warsaw?” The man’s face darkened. “They lost in New Warsaw, and the Hussars are coming for some payback.” The man cocked his hand back to strike Jim, but he didn’t flinch.
“Just get up, fatso,” the man said. lowering his hand. He tossed Jim a clean uniform. “Get dressed. You have five minutes. If you don’t, I’ll drag your naked fat ass down to the shuttle. She didn’t say nothing about being clothed.”
“What about the other Raknar pilots?”
“They’re already on the shuttle. Move it.”
Jim did as he was instructed.
He’d never seen the outside of his prison. It was an unassuming series of buildings with a small spaceship landing facility. He only knew it was still Brazil from what he’d heard the Varangian Guardsmen talk about. Someplace called Ubatuba. Sounded like a musical instrument to him.
Alien mercs were lined up in formation along the open avenue leading to a trio of shuttles squatting on the landing pads. Jim could see a company of the Varangian Guards, their CASPers crisp and shiny, standing at attention next to one of the shuttles. Four platoons of Besquith in combat armor were just outside the door he was being led from. None of the slavering werewolves seemed to take any note of the Human. Neither did the squads of Oogar and Tortantula, the latter, each led by a Tortantula with Flatar on their back. It was an impressive force.
A small electric cart awaited Jim and his Varangian escort. Standing next to the cart was Major Vels Lucas. He stared at Jim with hard eyes.
“What’s wrong, Major?” Jim asked as he came up to him. “You didn’t deliver Peepo what she wanted?”
“General Peepo, to you, Cartwright.”
“Colonel Cartwright to you, Major.”
The other man’s expression darkened, and he gestured to the electric cart. “I am traveling with you, so maybe we can come to an agreement prior to arrival.”
“Feel free to believe whatever you want,” Jim said as he climbed in. Lucas scowled even more as he got in on one side of Jim. He turned and saw the sadistic Corporal Romanov on the other. The man grinned evilly. An elSha in the driver’s position glanced back at its passengers. Lucas nodded, and the elSha started up the cart, driving them to the shuttle.
Just before the cart reached the shuttle, Jim saw a blaze of light climbing into the sky. It was a huge transport, and it used three launch lasers to get off the ground. He tried to imagine how big it must be to need three of the immensely powerful launch lasers. It took two minutes for the sound to reach them, which meant the launch was at least 25 miles away.
I’m north of the starport. The cart stopped and Jim was prodded out of the cart. A Sidar/Selroth pilot team. The Sidar spoke to Lucas.
“We must hurry to make rendezvous prior to orbit on the transport.”
“Why the hurry?” Lucas asked.
“Problems with the battle developing in space.”
Lucas scowled and gave Jim a little push toward the ramp. “Hurry up, Colonel.” He managed to stuff a lot of scorn into Jim’s rank.
As he was walking up the ramp, he realized two things. First, he’d understood the Sidar, which meant his pinplants were working again, as they’d translated the alien’s language. Second, there was a platoon of CASPers vaulting over the building he’d just left, weapons blazing.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Four
Merc Guild Detention Facility, Ubatuba, Brazil, Earth
“Lead the charge!” the thirty-four members of Charlie Company screamed over their loudspeakers as they roared over the three-story building on their jumpjets. Equipped with the shiny new Mk 8 CASPers they’d found in the warehouse in São Paulo, the armored troopers unloaded on the stunned ranks of Besquith mercs with a deadly fusillade of fire. Dozens were mowed down before they knew there was even an attack ongoing.
The Tortantula were the first to respond, the ranks of riderless behemoths fairly exploding toward the CASPers as they landed from their initial jumps. The two groups collided in a crash of spider arms, armor, and blood.
“What is this shit?” Vels Lucas yelled. A pair of missiles arced over another building to land amidst his troopers. Several were blown to pieces. Their response was unorganized, and they wavered, unsure whether to go against the Cavaliers leaping into action or to pursue whoever was firing at them over the buildings.
“Yes!” Jim exulted and pumped a fist in the air. “Looks like it’s time to pay the piper,” Jim said, laughing.
Vels shoved him toward the shuttle and addressed Romanov. “Get him aboard!”
“Major,” the corporal said and grabbed Jim’s arm with frightening force. “Move it, fat kid.” Jim didn’t bother to correct Ramanov; it wouldn’t have done much good. He was half dragged, half kicked up the ramp into the shuttle. He lost sight of his beloved Cavaliers just as the weapons fire started in earnest.
* * *
CIC, EMS Shadowfax, Approaching Earth
Shadowfax bucked as her shields sloughed off a half dozen shipkiller missiles. “Oh, we got their attention now,” she said.
“Without a doubt,” Evie agreed.
“Enemy formation of seven Jeha battlecruisers is penetrating the screen,” TacCom warned.
“No escorts?” Evie said, looking at her captain.
Captain Stacy had a feral grin on her face. She would have been chagrined to realize how much she looked like Alexis Crowell at the moment. “They’re trying for the battleships’ side. Order our screen to defend their flanks. All Egleesius, spinal mounts on the lead enemy battlecruisers.” The five ancient ships used their oversized maneuvering thrusters to turn far faster than normal ships their size. “Match bearings and fire!”
The CIC lights dimmed as 90% of the power from the ship’s three fusion power plants was channeled through meter-thick superconducting power relays. The Egleesius was built around its main armament, and the 40-terawatt particle accelerator acted as her backbone. The great ship thrummed like a bass guitar string as the charging coils discharged their deadly stream of star-hot energy.
Three of the seven Jeha battlecruisers were killed in an instant as the huge particle beams overloaded their shields, sliced through their armor like it wasn’t there, and turned their interior spaces into an ever-growing shockwave of exploding matter. Two other battlecruisers were badly damaged and out of the fight.
“They’re trying to disengage,” TacCom said.
“Order Captain Handley in Gallant Fox to have his cruiser squadron exploit their flank.” A few seconds later, a wave of missiles from three Steed-class cruisers and two Stem-class former Maki l
ight cruisers tore into the rear quarter shielding of the remaining pair of battlecruisers. Their shields fell and dozens of drones, which had been holding within the cruiser squadron’s defensive box, shot ahead and delivered a strike with the Hussars’ devastating squash-bomb-armed shipkillers.
“Enemy battlecruiser formation is eliminated,” Evie said.
Elizabeth gave some of her attention to the battlespace. Their two Thrush-class battleships were slugging it out with three Buma battleships. Elizabeth had never seen Buma battleships in the field. To her knowledge, it was the first time they’d ever been seen in combat. It looked like Peepo was scraping the bottom of the barrel.
“TacCom, enemy battleship Tango-Beta,” Elizabeth said, and gave the shield data.
“Got it,” TacCom said, shaking his head. “I didn’t see it.”
“No problem. Pegasus is in the best position. Give the data to Captain Corder; he’ll know what to do with it. Remind him he’s not in a Steed-class, and good hunting.”
She watched the board as Pegasus disengaged and did a seven-G skew turn. She winced a little at how the crew must have suffered through the maneuver. The turn completed, he kicked her stern around and delivered 40-terawatts of energy dead on target. A section of hull the size of a battlecruiser exploded out the side of Tango-Beta, and her offensive weapons went off line. Before any Hussars could exploit the weakness, the ship’s captain surrendered.
“Not much of a taste for this,” Evie said.
“I wonder what race is manning the ship,” Elizabeth mused. She knew it wouldn’t be Buma; they weren’t a merc race. They didn’t even build decent ships, as was just made apparent to the crew of the ship.
“New Izlian fleet incoming,” Evie said. “They were hanging out in L3.”
“What were they waiting for?” Elizabeth wondered. She did a quick tactical analysis. The Hussars’ allied losses had been light. While the new Izlian fleet was an unwanted surprise, it wasn’t a game changer. She was about to order her battleships to maneuver for intercept when the friendly Izlians called.
“This is Admiral Epsilon on Fresha.”
“Go ahead, Admiral, this is Commander Stacy on Shadowfax.”
“Commander, we will handle the Izlians.”
Elizabeth paused and chewed her lip a second before answering. “Admiral, with all due respect, I’m afraid that is a conflict of interest.”
“It would seem that way, but I assure you, we can handle it.”
Evie and Elizabeth exchanged looks. Taking the Izlians had been a gamble from the start. The Hussars were short on throw weight; otherwise, she would never have done it. She wasn’t sure if Alexis would have, either. She’d rolled the dice and kept the gas bags in one sector of their advance, out front, just in case.
“Very well, Admiral. Please keep our order of battle in mind should this prove difficult.”
“Understood, Commander.”
Elizabeth turned to Evie. “Make the fleet aware of this situation?”
“Already on it, Captain,” Evie said.
“What do you think of this Izlians?” Elizabeth asked Ghost.
Elizabeth shrugged and turned her attention elsewhere. If Alexis had trusted Ghost, she needed to as well. Besides, what choice did she have? She ordered the fleet to continue the approach to Earth. A short time later, the two Izlians fleets faced off.
She watched the Tri-V, expecting a battle. Just as Ghost predicted, no battle materialized. Instead the fleets merged into one. “Admiral Epsilon says his new, larger fleet is at your disposal.”
Elizabeth’s grin returned. Now she had the advantage.
“I need a little more than that to go on,” Elizabeth thought back.
“Was your advice to Alexis always this frustrating?”
Elizabeth snorted, and Evie looked at her in confusion. “I’ll explain later. Scan Earth orbit. Anything unusual?”
“No, there are a lot of ships still in orbit, but they’re all non-combatants. Transports and such.”
“Is this how you see?”
“The Bakulu squadron has pushed through the defenders and is coming in range of orbit.”
Elizabeth was torn between having her new allies abort an orbital approach and pushing onward. Scans continued to flash through her brain as they were shared by Ghost.
“Tell them to expect an attack,” she said.
“There are no indications of anything,” Evie said.
In Elizabeth’s mind, the scan froze halfway through deconstructing a huge transport, one of four identical ships which had changed their orbits to face the advancing fleet a minute earlier. The scan showed the ship’s superstructure was nothing more than a façade. She opened her mouth to warn about the ruse when the ships seemed to explode, and a new ship accelerated out of the debris field.
“What is that?” Evie asked. TacCom scanned the four new ships, trying to discern their shapes and specification.
“Contact the Bakulu commander, Glashpooka,” Elizabeth said. “If they can disengage, they should.”
“Captain Glashpooka says they are committed, but he isn’t concerned,” Comms reported.
* * *
CIC, BMS Trushista, Approaching Earth Orbit
“Continue analysis,” Captain Glashpooka ordered. The fact that they couldn’t identify the ship types that had emerged from their disguise was a little worrisome. The tactic itself was not unheard of, just gimmicky. Useful for anti-piracy more than anything, it was wasteful in warfare. The material costs in building a superstructure to hide the smaller warship simply didn’t pay off.
“They are cruisers in size, but their shields and drive emissions are completely wrong,” his SitCon said.
“Weapons solutions are coming in,” TacCom said.
“Admiral Galantrooka says he can have New Era in range within five minutes,” his XO said. “Should we delay?”
“No,” Glashpooka said. “Begin missile launch.”
Hundreds of missiles flew from Trushista and her surviving escort ships. Thanks to Paka, he was somewhat low on both missiles and escorts, but he guessed it would be more than enough to deal with four cruisers.
With the relatively short range, the missiles crossed to the targets in only a few seconds. Glashpooka had been watching the Tri-V with one eye and the general battlespace with two others. When the enemy ships didn’t begin firing at the missiles, all three eyes turned. Why aren’t they firing anti-missile lasers?
“Impact in two seconds; they are not trying to stop the missiles,” his XO confirmed.
Glashpooka watched with a growing sense of dread as the first of over 100 missiles reached their targets and nothing happened. As the launch reached its peak and the nuclear missiles didn’t go off, his dread turned to fear. “What is happening?”
“I cannot tell,” the TacCom said. The officer’s eyes, pseudopods, and no doubt pinplants were working the sensor data furiously. “It is as if the missiles were disarmed. I lost telemetry just before they should have detonated.” Another second later, the missile wave ended without a single explosion. Telephoto imaging showed some of the missiles physically striking the ships. Each of the four vessels had a strange, mottled h
ull, which reminded Glashpooka of something chipped out of rock. The four vessels were generally shaped like flattened spear points, but unique in their individual details.
“Alter rotation to bring the 10-terawatt particle accelerator bays into position,” he ordered. TacCom had just acknowledged the order when all four enemy ships seemed to pulse with a crackling static discharge. Trushista shuddered from a series of internal explosions.
“No impact on shields!” TacCom cried.
“Reactors Five and Seven are offline,” engineering warned.
“Major internal damage,” the damage control coordinator warned, and he began listing a litany of destruction.
“All ships, fire,” Glashpooka ordered. Laser and particle weapons lashed out. The cameras still focused on the enemy ships showed the lasers absorbed by the enemy hull, some of them reflecting away, others causing small glowing spots and puffs of material. Particle beams seemed to disperse along large areas of the hull.
“Fire is having no appreciable effect,” SitCon said. The enemy ships sparked again, and damage ripped through Trushista’s internal spaces. “All weapons offline, helm offline!” The ship began to yaw out of control as the enemy ships opened fire on their screening vessels. Four were destroyed, one by each enemy ship.
“Send all telemetry to New Era,” Captain Glashpooka ordered. Power failed, and the last of the emergency reserve went out. Earth was directly in their path. I should have listened to Commander Stacy.
* * *
CIC, EMS Shadowfax, Approaching Earth
“Whoa, what was that?” the TacCom asked as the new alien ships fired, and Trushista was torn apart by internal explosions.
Elizabeth remembered; they were in a report from an encounter in 2nd level hyperspace. The strange alien ships there used meson weapons. “Can you alter their ship’s shields, like you did with Pegasus?”