Defiant (Lightship Chronicles) Page 14

  “She’s been taken to ground, sir,” said Babayan.

  “I can see that. Is she—”

  “Hull integrity is still intact, and her forward sections are protected by an active Hoagland Field,” cut in Karina, telling me what I needed to know. She may have been forced to the surface, but Impulse II was still in one piece.

  “Anything else I need to know, Lieutenant?” I asked my wife.

  “Yes. There is an ongoing battle—energy weapons discharges and the like—going on aboard Impulse. But . . .”

  “But what?” I said.

  “The only active life signs I can detect are behind the Hoagland Field, sir. Therefore the other combatants must be—”

  “Automatons,” I said. “Robots, like the ones we faced at Jenarus.” I hesitated only a second. “Activate search and rescue protocols,” I ordered. “Let’s get our marines down there now!”

  Babayan came up to me in the bustle that followed my new orders. “Captain, I request permission to lead one of the marine shuttles down there on any search and rescue or combat mission,” she said.

  “Granted,” I replied. “And I’m right behind you.”

  “What?” That came from Karina’s station.

  Babayan stepped swiftly between me and the lifter. “You’re the captain, sir. You belong on the bridge,” she said evenly.

  “Yes, I know. But I’m also the most battle-tested command-level officer on this ship in Marine excursion duty, next to you and Marker. And besides—”

  “This is personal.” That came from Karina. I looked over at her. She was mad at me again, but . . .

  “I’m waiting to hear another name with my level of experience,” I said, looking around the bridge. There were no answers to my challenge. I activated my com link.

  “Mr. Marker, let’s get those marines off the deck. Commander Babayan and I will be down in three minutes.”

  “You, sir?” Marker said. “You personally are going on this mission?”

  “I am, John,” I said. “So I think you’d better get used to the idea.”

  With that I put George Layton in command, then made straight for the lifter, purposely not looking back.

  We were off the landing deck as planned three minutes later, both shuttles and one of the gunships. I was still crawling into my EVA suit when Commander Layton relayed that Defiant had taken up synchronous orbit over the colony and Impulse II. “Keep your head up, George. These things can be deadly. But if you see anything that’s not alive come out of that hole in the ground”—I meant the colony—“you have my permission to blast it to infinity.”

  “Aye, sir. But atomics—”

  “Impulse is shielded by her field, Commander,” I said.

  “Yes, sir, but only half the ship—”

  “Yes, George, but it’s the half our people are in. Carry out my orders,” I finished.

  “Aye, sir,” he said. I cut the line, then slid into my seat next to my shuttle pilot, Corporal Verhunce.

  “Fancy another crack at these bronze bastards?” I asked. She nodded.

  “I do, sir, but it won’t bring back those we lost at Jenarus.”

  “It won’t,” I agreed. “But I still want the shot at them.” Verhunce said nothing more to me, so I quizzed her. “I take it you don’t agree with me being aboard this mission either.”

  She shook her head. “Not my call, Captain.”

  “I’m asking your opinion.”

  “I have none, sir, unless you’re ordering me—”

  “I am.” She cleared her throat before continuing.

  “It’s true you are one of the three most qualified officers to lead this mission. But it is also true that you are a Lightship captain, and you shouldn’t be out here, exposing yourself to danger. At some point, sir, you’ll have to stick to your bridge and let the rest of us do our jobs,” she said. That was sobering.

  “ETA till we’re on the ground, Corporal?” I asked by way of deflecting the conversation.

  “Two minutes, sir, and we’ll be coming in hot,” she said. I switched off my ship com and started up the longwave com back to Defiant.

  “Lieutenant Feilberg here, sir,” came Karina’s voice.

  “Karina . . .” I said.

  “Don’t start. I know what this is about. She was your lover and your friend. Go rescue her. The rest doesn’t matter now.” I resigned myself to the fact that she was right. This wasn’t the time.

  “Patch me through to Commander Layton and keep the channel open,” I said. She did so without another word.

  “Layton here, Captain.”

  I looked down at my watch. “George, in less than ninety seconds we’ll be on the ground on Drava. If you see anything moving on the ground or in the sky that’s not human, take it out. If these are the same automatons that caught us at Jenarus, their weapons emit a disruption field, like an EMP. It will likely knock out our communications, but whatever you do, don’t break off from this engagement until either we have Impulse back or . . .” I trailed off.

  “Or what, sir?”

  “Or we’re dead.”

  “Captain, you don’t have the benefit of a Hoagland Field defending you against these things,” Layton warned.

  “I know we don’t. But this time we do have the localized fields protecting the shuttles and our personal shielding on the EVA suits, which we didn’t have before,” I said.

  “I hope that’s enough, sir.”

  “It should be. Keep this channel open via longwave at all times. And keep Defiant safe,” I ordered him.

  “Aye, sir,” he responded. I went to my wrist com and switched back to the shuttle channel.

  “How long?” I demanded.

  “Forty-four seconds, sir,” said Verhunce. I switched again to the personnel channel.

  “Forty seconds, ladies and gentlemen. Charge your coil rifles and ready your concussion grenades. Anyone with disruptor-tipped RPGs?”

  “Four of us, sir,” came a private’s reply.

  “First two squads hit the ground with suppressing fire. RPGs follow and target anything made of amber metal that moves. Squads three through six, suppress, advance to Impulse as fast as you can go, and set up a perimeter within the shuttle’s field. Last squad will bring the explosives,” I said.

  “We don’t have an explosives engineer,” replied the main RPG private.

  “That’s why it will be my job to blow the hull and your job to cover me,” I said.

  “The hell it will!” came Marker’s voice.

  “You have your orders, Chief,” I replied. I looked down at my watch. “Fifteen seconds,” I called out over the main channel, then switched back to Verhunce. “Set her down less than fifty meters from the hull of Impulse, if you please, Corporal,” I said to her just as we started to rock from incoming ground fire.

  “You don’t ask too much, do you, sir?” Verhunce replied.

  “Only what I know you can do, Corporal. Only what I know you can do.” Then I looked out the cabin window, green automaton rifle fire crisscrossing our path as we sped to the ground. This was going to be fun.

  On Drava

  We hit the ground hard and skidded a good distance on hard-pan rock. Pieces of amber automaton went flying past the window. Verhunce must have taken out as many as she could while still following my orders.

  “Forty-eight meters from the hull, Captain,” she called out as we unstrapped our safety couches. I didn’t have time to respond, but I made a mental note to commend her for her skilled landing.

  “Go marines!” I ordered. The rear hatch flew open, and the first two squads poured out, laying down suppressing fire and then hitting their bellies hard. The five marines in the RPG unit were next, and they laid out a volley that hit so close it rocked the shuttle. Then the next three squads vaulted past them as they reload
ed and volleyed again. I looked to Verhunce. “Our turn, Corporal.” I checked my C-19 explosive charges one last time, and then we were through the hatch and into an open, bright plain full of Union marines and at least fifty golden-amber robots of the deadly kind. The shuttle’s Hoagland Field protected us for about a twenty-meter radius around the ship, but the hull of Impulse II was far beyond that range. I looked around: two men wounded but thankfully not dead.

  “I need three squads to get me to that hull,” I yelled. Fifteen marines came up, including Verhunce. I waved her off. “Negative, you’re the pilot,” I said over the din.

  “Squad two lost a man. I volunteered,” she replied.

  “But—” I started to object. She just gave me that hardheaded Carinthian look. “All right, then. RPGs and suppressing fire, spread out, don’t be predictable in your movements, and get me to that hull. Once it’s blown, I want everyone inside,” I said. “We go in five.” I counted off from there, and we made our end run under a volley of RPG and coil rifle fire from our marines near the shuttle. I was almost embarrassed that I had four marines sticking to me as I ran, green death flying all around us. Our new personal EVA shielding would help, but there was no guarantee against the automatons’ powerful weapons. I saw a flash as one of my escorts fell. I kept running until we hit Impulse’s hull hard and took cover. My best guess was that we were somewhere near the Intel section, five or six decks below the galleria. I quickly set the charges for a thirty-second delay, then ordered a retreat back the same way we had just come. I helped pick up my fallen escort as we ran. When we got back under the protection of the shuttle’s limited Hoagland Field, we laid the marine out under cover of the wing. I looked down.

  It was Verhunce. There was a large dark wound in the middle of her chest. A medic came and took her inside with the other wounded, but she had been outside the shuttle’s field range when she’d been hit.

  “Marker, Babayan, report!” I called through the command com channel.

  “Holding our own, sir,” said Marker.

  “Same here,” replied Babayan.

  “The charges go off in nine seconds. After she blows I want a full spread of concussion grenades at those devils and then all units to advance on the automatons. I want to finish this,” I said.

  “Aye, sir,” they both confirmed. Right before the charges blew I saw a coil cannon blast, no doubt from Defiant, hit about half a click away. Layton was doing his job and keeping the automatons at the mining colony from reinforcing.

  The C-19 explosives’ blast against Impulse’s hull was spectacular, hot metal flying all around us. When the smoke cleared, the concussion grenades followed from my marines, blowing amber robot parts everywhere. The next volley of RPG ordnance mixed with coil rifle fire seemed to put the robot threat down for good.

  “Advance!” I ordered, and we charged with a loud battle cry. As I ran I saw the upper quarter of an automaton firing its green death ray randomly, trying to target marines, which was difficult without eyes or a head. I pulled my pistol and charged it, then blew the thing to pieces. I hated them, and with good reason. They’d killed thirty-three of my comrades at the Jenarus station.

  We gathered at the hole in the hull of Impulse II.

  “Where to now, sir?” asked Marker.

  “Inside and up,” I said. “To the galleria.”

  We used hooks and metal rappelling wire to climb up to deck sixteen, three decks below the galleria. From there we ran up utility corridors to the rear entrance of the galleria. The ship was wide and baroque, much like the first Impulse had been. But something was different. About thirty meters in front of us was a shimmering silver field of energy, like a wall of lake water. Behind it we could see amber figures, distorted though they were, moving back and forth.

  “Defensive field,” said Marker. “They never used one at Jenarus.”

  “How do we break it?” asked Babayan. I looked around.

  “I’m open to suggestions,” I said.

  “Maybe we can draw them out,” said Marker. “The shuttles carry electrostatic charges for disrupting enemy electronics, kind of like an EMP burst. They can be fired from the RPGs.”

  “Get them,” I said. Marker ordered two privates back to retrieve the static charges from the marine munitions officers. Two minutes later we had our five RPG marksmen loaded and ready.

  “Spread out your fire across the field,” said Marker. He looked to me, but I just nodded for him to give the firing order while we all took cover.

  “Fire!”

  The static RPGs shot out at the energy field and exploded quite spectacularly. There was an unexpected recoil as the field absorbed the static energy and bulged in our direction before returning to normal a few seconds later. We’d succeeded in “denting” the field but not in penetrating it.

  Obviously, we’d alerted the automatons to our presence as they started coming through the field unobstructed. We’d succeeded in getting their attention. I counted five.

  “Take cover and return fire!” I ordered. As I brought my rifle up to my hip to unload, the RPG private next to me exploded in a hellfire of green energy. I gave them everything I had.

  “Concussion grenades!” I heard Babayan order. Six of them hit the deck as we all scrambled for the safety of the access hallway and its protective bulkhead. When they blew, amber robot parts went everywhere.

  I took one look and yelled, “Charge!” We rushed back in again with full-throated battle cries, filling up the remaining open galleria area. A second later another group of five automatons came through the field, firing at will. We quickly retreated behind the rear wall bulkhead again under their heavy fire. I saw more marines fall as I came.

  “Suppressing fire!” Marker ordered as he, Babayan, and I gathered for another strategy session.

  “What now?” asked Babayan.

  “There’s too many of them,” said Marker, then looked to a marine private.

  “Concussion grenade, private!” he demanded. The private complied.

  “What are you going to do with that?” I asked him as he set the charge to two seconds.

  “We’ve got to get that field down. It must have projectors on the walls, blanketing the area. I’m going to shove this thing right through that goddamn field, break up those projectors. I damn well didn’t give up a professional rugby sevens career just to shoot robots from a distance in the Navy. I’ll need all the fury of hell from you two to get past those things,” he said, looking at me and Babayan in turn.

  “I could order you not to,” I said.

  “Don’t,” Marker replied.

  “Give me the grenade, John. I’ll do it,” I said.

  “No, you won’t!” said Babayan, pushing me back. “You’re the captain, and captains don’t take risks. You stay back. You shouldn’t even be down here.”

  Marker looked at me with an intense stare, the kind I’d only seen from him in battle. “Remember, Peter, Impulse was my first Lightship, too. And I’m the tactical commander on the ground here, not you, captain or not. I’ll get this grenade past that field somehow. Just make damn sure you take out the rest of those golden devils once I do.”

  “John—”

  “My mind is made up, sir,” he said. “We’ve got to break this deadlock.” It was suicide, or nearly so, and he knew that. But he wouldn’t have any of my protests.

  “You have five seconds, sir,” he said, then made for the galleria entrance, clutching the concussion grenade. I stood and switched to the main com channel.

  “Five seconds, marines! All hands to rush the galleria deck and provide suppressing fire! Concussion grenades once the field is down, and don’t stop shooting until everything that’s not alive is in pieces!” There were many grunts of agreement at that. I had nearly ninety able men and women behind me, minus the wounded, ready to charge to their deaths. Their bravery, and that of John M
arker, shamed me.

  On the count of five, a dozen marines swept out ahead of Marker, coil rifles blazing. A volley of concussion grenades followed. More robot parts scattered, replaced by reinforcements coming through the field. Then Marker made his move. We stormed out of the hallway, all of us, Babayan and I taking up defensive positions on the left flank. Marker ran like the wind, blazing his coil rifle, firing from the hip at a dozen automatons while he clutched the concussion grenade in his left hand. He barreled through three of the toasters, sending them flying like so many bowling pins. As I watched, I could see the concussion charge blink red. He’d activated the two-second delay, but he still had a good five meters to go. I stood up from my defensive crouch.

  “No!” I said out loud.

  Marker dove for the field barrier. He stretched out the grenade in his left hand, and it penetrated the field. The grenade exploded, shattering the defensive field like ten thousand fragile pieces of glass.

  John Marker disintegrated.

  I wanted to puke. I wanted to scream. Instead, I found myself giving an order.

  “Charge!” I yelled with rage and fury, then ran out in front of the entire unit firing everything I had, my rifle in one hand, my pistol in the other. Concussion grenades rolled across the deck, dangerously close, blowing automatons into tiny pieces. Marines swept all around me, past me. I saw one man get his arms ripped off by a robot. It was two minutes of hand-to-hand fury.

  In the end, the galleria was ours, and the evil, the golden devils, were gone.

  I pulled off my EVA helmet, hyperventilating, and then vomited. A second later I pulled my helmet back on as a low-band radio signal, likely blocked previously by the energy field, came through.

  “This is Captain Dobrina Kierkopf of the Lightship Impulse II, calling Union marine units in our galleria. Are you receiving me?” came a scratchy voice. I clicked on my com and switched to low-band.

  “Aye, Captain Kierkopf. This is Captain Cochrane of Defiant. We’re receiving you loud and clear.”

  We swarmed up the galleria to near the Historian’s quarters. The toasters had reinforced the bulkhead and basically built a wall of something like concrete around the doors. Whatever it was, it went from floor to ceiling. We tried laying grenades right on it and detonating them, but we got nowhere. It was impervious to grenades, coil rifles, anything we had, like it was indestructible. Analysis showed it was made of some high-tech carbon nanotube material.