Authors: Mark G Brewer
Hilary meanwhile, quite calmly followed progress while making sure the secure rooms had good pictures of the action and at the same time transmitting everything through the Hillary Station world feed. Within an hour people would be watching this action all over the planet.
You fool; nothing done in darkness will remain secret here
.
Meanwhile she accessed and monitored all the Russian communications feeding everything through to Ham, Regan and the coalition partners.
Word soon came through to Lebedev from the flight deck.
"Flight Leader, this is Wave one-two. The screen is down, the decks are in vacuum and there is no light. As expected, antigravity also appears to have been disabled."
"We hear you one-two, is it possible to disembark your payload?" The Major looked back at Lebedev who nodded in agreement.
"Can do sir, please confirm you wish me to do so?" The voice crackled through, sounding nervous.
"Drop your passenger one-two then withdraw. Waves one through ten in turn deposit your payload then join cover. I repeat, drop your payloads in turn then hold in cover as planned. Be advised we have incoming in ten minutes."
As Lebedev watched, RDF one-two slipped back out of the darkness and almost immediately a powerful beam shone out from the decks, Special Services having clearly rigged lighting. One-three was already easing forward in its approach with one-four close behind.
"Give me a line to Special Services, Major." Lebedev asked.
"Yes sir," he flicked a switch, "you're on."
"This is Lebedev, Special Services, your priority has not changed, secure the decks and locate the packages. Avoid conflict but do not allow anything to divert you from your course. On locating the packages establish the best means of making them available to the flight deck. I repeat - you must locate the packages."
Despite their skill, Lebedev knew even the SS would struggle in the weightless environment as nothing could truly prepare them for working in space. Despite months of tank work at home there would be delays, injuries, probably deaths. He could see from the limited feed they were desperately struggling to achieve control, even the suits having a completely different feel in this environment. Not surprisingly all internal doors were secured leaving them no entrance to the Station proper, however there was an upside. With the entrances closed and secured they encountered no opposition on the decks giving them clumsy freedom to work patiently on establishing portable LED lighting systems and adjust to the weightless environment.
Progress proved painfully slow as they bounced around using floor to ceiling pushes and any hand holds available to maneuver. As more soldiers joined their number, they dispatched pairs to explore the wide decks with acres of space and anchored equipment to be traversed. The area would need to be searched fast and the task was proving both difficult and dangerous. Before ten drop-offs had been completed one soldier had already disappeared in an uncontrolled spin out to space. His fate wasn't helped by collision with a departing RDF; it bumped him off through the yawning entrance, hopefully killing him before he disappeared from sight. There would be no rescue pickups while action continued and with every second that passed the odds of a slow death lengthened.
Though painfully clumsy the process of securing the decks progressed steadily. The Hillary Station EFDFs continued their charge toward the Step, however it was clear now they would be too late to prevent its occupation. Still, Rod was determined, they would play their part. The smaller Hillary ADFs were trailing but also not far behind, although what help they could offer was yet to be determined. Unfortunately apart from close in lasers the ADFs were unarmed so it would be up to Rod’s team to do the business. Reviewing Hilary's data on screen he could see they were well outnumbered and the knowledge produced a fresh surge of adrenalin that lifted his voice another octave. Excitement lifted again as the screen showed five attackers breaking away from the Station and moving to intercept them.
"We have action, incoming ahead. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt manual displacement defense. Put yourself in the right position and leave it to your AI." He continued on open line, "Ham, do we go straight on to attack?"
"Rod, I trust you, do what the situation demands."
"One minute to action." Rod felt the calm of combat coming over him, something he had always enjoyed and he actually felt better in a fight. Flicking his displacer defense from auto to manual he surged to the lead.
"What are you doing Rod?" Ham's voice had that sound of resignation.
"I've got it Ham; someone's got to break the ice." His fingers trailed over the joy stick buttons, remembering an occasion not so long ago; he was a man with a plan.
Do I fire first, or wait for them?
The thoughts spun through his mind and he quickly came to the only conclusion he could, even if in his view it wasn't smart. Regan would take the moral high ground and he did have the defenses to deal with it.
Go in as the rabbit, draw the first shot - then release the team.
"What are you doing Rod?" Minjee crackled through.
"Just follow my lead Min; I want to make sure they fire first. We'll let them start the aggressive action and as soon as they fire the battle is on, take them out. Remember, leave displacement defense to the piglets, and keep your fingers on the trigger, good luck."
The lead RDF, invisible in real time but closing quickly on screen, fired early then hauled away in a massive arc.
Rod didn't hesitate to call, "Battle on people! They have fired."
He followed the small dot as it tracked toward them, staring down the missile as if playing chicken. Sweat beads popped out on his brow as he contemplated switching back to AI auto but the thought was momentary. Steeling himself he waited until the last fraction of a second before repeating the action practiced. Stroking the displacer button he closed his eyes in a silent prayer, only opening them as the moment passed, his heart still pumping.
"Ye-hah . . . gotcha!" Continuing on he lined up the next approaching RDFs with the missile held in a displacer loop. Not sure what maneuverability he would enjoy while holding the missile he made a snap decision to release it as soon as a Russian fighter appeared in his cross hairs. Whether by good luck or good timing he didn't care, the missile locked on the luckless RDF. Hauling his EFDF away as the RDF disappeared in a massive disintegration he released the team.
The developing dogfight spread quickly over a massive volume of space, the Russians now actively engaging and easily being out maneuvered by the EFDFs. Rod concentrated on trying to separate another RDF from the bunch. Once in his sights he cruised with ridiculous ease up behind it to use his laser, burning into the craft before curling away, hoping for another to catch. The RDF seemed to lose all control, spinning away without power.
Rod watched as two more RDFs were similarly dispatched by the flight, the Russian pilots having no chance with zero experience in space and craft inferior even to the chasing ADFs. The remaining pair suddenly broke away.
They had done their job, buying time for the team on the Step and they wasted no time diving toward Earth and atmosphere. The covering RDF around the Step would now enter the fray delaying the EFDF cavalry even further as the Russian bombers docked.
* * *
Both bombers drifted into the flight deck with the temporary lighting throwing eerie shadows off their delta wings. SS soldiers quickly clamped the craft to the surface, looking much more comfortable in weightlessness already. They seemed to be getting around the deck with much more control and Lebedev admired their ability via the camera feed. He would emerge if they were successful in taking the station, but for the moment he would direct operations from the RDB.
From the twin craft he could see personnel emerging with cutting equipment, the SS supporting them as they clumsily steered toward the nearest pressure doors before clamping tanks and torches down. In a surprisingly short time they were at work, carving an entrance through the door into the Station proper.
"General, we have word they've located the Coran shuttles." The pilot’s voice crackled through his helmet and Lebedev jerked upright with excitement. "Already
-
excellent
-
excellent, are they accessible?"
"Yes General, in a closed hangar on the other side of the flight deck. One shuttle is in parts with the drive crated up as expected. It looks ready for dispatch; we got here just in time."
"We have good intelligence Major," and Lebedev smiled while shaking his head in amazement. Never had he known intelligence to be so good, or for providence to be so favorable.
Everything is going to plan, minimal losses, maximum success, unbelievable!
"Major, can we get the drive to the RDB or do we go to the drive?"
"They will transport the drive here, General. As a power plant it is surprisingly small and in weightlessness it is no problem."
"And the shuttle
-
is it accessible?"
"It is General."
"Then get the Coran pilots over there now, I want that shuttle off Station and on its way to Piesetsk . . . and get that drive over here."
"Yes sir."
Lebedev watched as the Coran pilot and navigator were pulled roughly to the deck from the opposite RDB. As he watched the soldier sought to maneuver them but it soon became evident the Corans were far more confident and assured in the weightless environment, quickly breaking away and appearing to swim across the surface using anything as a handhold to launch from. Within seconds it was clear they would reach the Shuttle far sooner than their escorts and Lebedev's instincts prompted a first touch of nerves as he watched them sprint away.
Can they be trusted?
Switching to a view of the cutting crew Lebedev could see they would break through soon. It was only the first door into the airlock and he quietly hoped they would find the internal door responded to the manual controls.
No matter if it won't . . . it will yield in time.
* * *
Propped against an inside wall of the airlock with both feet wedged against a useful beam, a figure shuffled uncomfortably, searching for a better position as he waited. Hilary's man fixed his eyes on the torch progress mentally calculating, predicting the moment the cut would be complete and the section would be kicked away. He wasn't worried; Brian Timu had a big gun.
Slowly the torch completed its path and he casually braced the old HK G3 battle rifle in readiness. Much favored by UK Special forces in early days he too chose the HK as a personal favorite. The 7.62 mm rounds were designed to kill with a single shot and in vacuum, he knew from experience, they would pack just the extra punch he was looking for.
Inside the helmet he couldn't hear anything and vision was somewhat restricted. Still, he had no problem picking off the startled soldier standing in the gap as the cut section pitched inward, a single shot sending him tumbling backward. Nor was it a problem picking off the man standing behind him, or the soldier peering around from the side. Behind them he could make out others scrambling in the difficult environment, their flailing leaving them all the more vulnerable. He took another with a head shot then in one smooth motion adjusted his aim to centre squeezing off two more that sent the attackers soaring away down the deck. Not waiting, he quickly slipped through the open internal door, shutting and locking it behind him. Moving with speed he then skirted the internal corridor making his way around the deck until he came to the next emergency airlock.
"What about this one Hil?" He asked, opening the internal door then sitting for a quick rest in the small airlock.
"All clear outside Brian. There are two men to the left of the exit, fifteen meters away. They're occupied trying to open the doors to an American ADF."
"Does it matter if I damage the ADF?"
"I hardly think so
-
Brian, just outside the door there are hand rungs on the wall, they are either side of the door. You can anchor your body there either side, your choice. Bet you can't do it in two shots."
He smiled in the helmet, "Hilary, you're spending way too much time with that boy."
"Do you mean Ham or Jared?"
He smiled again, "Never mind . . . I'm ready when you're ready."
The door clicked and swung outward smoothly. Brian carefully scanned the deck in front of the opening then ducked forward to check right then left. All clear to the right and the two on the left were occupied, no problem. Brian hooked one arm through the hand rung finding it just wide enough for him to squeeze the forearm through and allow him to grip the stock firmly. Two shots, two kills and he slipped back through the door, again closing it behind him.
"That hardly seemed fair. You had plenty of time and you didn't warn them."
"Hilary, this isn't the movies, fairness doesn't come into it."
"I meant it wasn't fair on me."
He chuckled, a muffled laugh in an increasingly warm helmet. "Ok, where to next?"
"Back to the last entrance, they're about to blow the inner door; I'd rather they didn't do that."
"Uh-huh, so how do we stop them doing that?"
"Well if you just stop talking and get back there quickly I'll pop the door and you pop them."
With the benefit of internal gravity he jogged back, retracing his steps to the emergency door. "So where are they?"
"The door opens toward you, you will have line of sight to the first man as soon as the door is ajar, and the second man is crouched placing charges. The third fool is outside bending down looking through the original hole. Tell me when."
Brian thought for a second then called, "Do it!"
The door popped and swung toward him, Brian's first shot through the gap took the first man and as he continued the swing he picked off the second through the outer hole. Training his rifle on the third man he coolly shot him through the head, both bodies in the airlock tumbling around the small space. Half a second, three snap shots, three bodies. He stepped back, again slamming the door behind him.