Soldiers of Fortune (31 page)

              "I take it there is something about this attack that has you so... distressed?" Jason prompted.

              "Shorret-3 is home to six million people planetside, all in one massive settlement... and another one-hundred thousand on the main orbital platform; an older tether-type installation that stages the refined ore for the big cargo haulers.

             
"Even though the platform is a bit outdated, it's simply enormous; nearly four kilometers across. It's mass requires an extra long tether that the cargo cars ride up and down. Since the mass of the platform can fluctuate wildly as ore is taken up, and then offloaded, the tether can be retracted or played out using the machinery that's in the ground planetside at the anchor site. Dowarty plans to hit the platform to disable its thrusters and repulsors and then retract the tether." Kage waited, letting the situation sink in.

              "Oh shit," Twingo said softly. "If the platform can't correct its forward velocity, and they retract the tether quickly enough..."

              "They've just created a four kilometer wide kinetic weapon that will wipe out Shorret-3's entire population," Jason finished in an emotionless voice. The platform relied on inertia to keep it aloft, its mass dictating the length of the tether while its relatively weak propulsion system made fine corrections. It was reliable, economical, and safe; if the tether failed and snapped during normal operations the platform would just float away until it was recovered.

             
If the tether were to be shortened dramatically, however, without the platform being able to compensate it's mass or velocity... it would simply fall to the planet.

              "Defenses on the platform?" Jason asked hopefully.

              "Minimal. They rely on the Eshquarian fleet, and the threat of that, to protect them," Kage said sadly. "They're profit driven, and they're in a safe zone, so defenses are an afterthought."

              "This will be one of the worst terrorist attacks ever perpetrated in this region of space," Doc said, horrified. "In addition to the loss of life, it will completely destabilize the Eshquarian government."

              "We still can't raise the
Diligent
?"

              "No."

              "There's no point contacting Eshquarian Fleet Command," Jason mused, pacing along the forward canopy. "They'd never believe us. ConFed Fleet is out... I have a feeling they're hip deep in this after that ship we saw at The Complex. Who does that leave?"

              "Us," Crusher said simply, giving voice to what Jason wouldn't.

              "You all saw that fleet," he began. "The
Phoenix
is no match for them head-to-head. We've done what we could, what we were asked... there's no dishonor if anyone would rather not do this... I can't ask this of you. You know we won't survive."

              "Whether we survive or not isn't the point, Captain," Doc said. "We're the only ones who know this is coming, the only ones who stand between them and millions of innocent lives... do you really think there's a choice here?"

              "No," Jason said finally, looking around him. Five grim, determined faces looked back. He couldn't have been more proud to stand with those individuals in that moment.  "New course. Get us to Shorret-3 as fast as she'll take us."

              "Course correction confirmed," Kage said. "We're on our way, twenty-six hours until we mesh in."

              "Best guess on how far behind the attack fleet we are?" Jason asked.

              "Oorch Prime was a bit out of the way, but we're a lot faster... maybe an hour," Twingo said as he consulted his own terminal.

              "We'll hit their fleet hard and fast with all she's got, but we have got to get planetside quickly," Jason told them. "To retract the tether, they'll probably need to go to the anchor point. We'll make our stand there. Crusher, Lucky; we're on... I want full armor and break out the heavy weapons."

              "We'll prep your gear, Captain," Crusher said crisply as he and Lucky left the bridge. The Galvetic warrior had a noticeable snap in his step as he walked, obviously relishing the thought of an epic battle in which he was all that stood between the innocent and their certain deaths at the hands of a superior force. The frustration of the past couple of months was gone, the slogging through shitty bars and hives of bottom-feeding scum that had been wearing on the crew, now all but forgotten as the very ideal of Omega Force was reaffirmed in that one, crystalline moment. As the
Phoenix
tore through slip-space toward Shorret-3, each member of the team busied themselves making sure they were ready.

              "Doc, prep a message to the
Diligent
informing them what's happening. Tell them to inform the Eshquarians that Chief of Staff Kross is to be arrested on sight," Jason said to his friend. "Once you have it ready, put it on a continuous transmit loop to all known com nodes. There's no point in secrecy now.

             
"One other thing, all of you need to rotate down through the armory and gear up," he told the rest of the crew. "I know you're not usually 'tactical assets,' but I don't know what's going to happen when we mesh in, so I want everybody ready for the worst. Tell Crusher to outfit you with whatever we have that will fit as far as armor and weapons. In fact... Twingo, I want you to use the fabricators to make sure everyone has at least some level of body armor. Nothing too fancy, just enough to ward off a couple lucky shots."

              "You can count on me, Captain," Twingo nodded solemnly, for once not having a sarcastic quip or insult as an answer.

             
Jason strode off the bridge and headed for his quarters for a little bit of privacy to try and prepare himself for what he knew was coming. The job had started out easy enough: gather intel on a group of overly ambitious pirates. After the boredom, the shenanigans of stealing some dolt's prized artifacts, and the juvenile fun of a few good ol' bar fights, he knew he was flying his crew to certain death. The fact they did so willingly did nothing to assuage his guilt and his guilt did nothing to deter him from the course of action he knew he had to take.
Millions
of innocent lives stood to be lost... they'd all try until they had nothing left to give to stop that.  

             
The crew went about their tasks with an almost desperate efficiency, not wanting to dwell on what may happen when they emerged from slip-space. Getting the three members of the crew who were usually not involved in ground operations kitted out with weapons and armor would have been a humorous proposition any other time, but now Lucky and Crusher worked quickly to make sure each knew how to operate the gear they were given. After a short period of quiet contemplation, Jason was in the cramped com room pouring over the sensor data they had been able to collect on the fleet they were streaking towards. It was scant, at best; only the passive array and navigational sensors had been active so they weren't able to determine specific tactical capabilities. He had the computer scouring their records for the build and model of each ship to try and get a general idea of what they were up against, but he had little hope it would amount to much before they arrived in the Shorret System.   

             
Once he had reached the limit of his patience, and the others had filtered through the armory, he went down to get his own gear prepared. When he entered the armory, he saw that Lucky and Crusher were nearly complete with their own equipment. Lucky, in a rare instance of opting for external weaponry, had two large, articulated plasma cannons mounted on his back, just inboard of his shoulders. These were specifically built for him and designed to run off his considerable internal power cells. He could also direct them independent from each other, this added some serious punch to his already formidable arsenal.

             
Crusher, also dressing for the occasion, had set aside his usual penchant for going sleeveless and sported a set of heavy body armor, complete with pauldrons, gauntlets, and protection for his arms. He was checking two heavy plasma rifles that would be almost impossible for someone Jason's size to wield. He also had a large sidearm and two wicked-looking molecular-blade weapons strapped to him in various places. The pair of warriors looked utterly terrifying.

             
Jason walked through with only a nod as he made his way to his own area. He opened one of the wall units and stared at the assortment of gear inside, all looking pitifully inadequate for the upcoming task. He moved to the next unit over and slid open the door, pressing a button just on the inside. A rack slid out silently on rails until it extended about a meter and a half away from the wall. Hanging from the rack was a specialized piece of gear; Jason's custom powered armor. He rarely had a need to use it, which unfortunately also meant he didn't have near the amount of training time in the machine that he'd like to. While it wasn't the most advanced unit one could buy, it was incredibly expensive (wastefully so, according to some of his crew) and gave him an advantage on the ground the other, lighter units he owned didn't

             
The term "powered" was a bit of a misnomer when comparing the armor to some of the more sophisticated models; it actually did nothing to enhance the user's strength. What it did have was a set of full motion actuators that were designed to eliminate the weight of the armor so the user could move as if they weren't wearing it at all. It also offered limited energy shielding over vital areas and a full sensor suite within the helmet. His own particular unit had also been programmed by Doc to render emergency first-aid when possible.

             
Jason stood in front of the apparatus for a moment, running his hand over the Greek letter "Omega" that was embossed on the upper part of the chest plate. He then touched a few controls on the rack's touch panel and watched as the suit hissed and opened up. "Everyone else all geared up?" He asked as he stripped off his shipboard fatigues and reached for the fitted undergarments that went with the armor.

              "As best we could," Crusher said. "Twingo is a little scrapper, but the other two are next to useless if we get into any real fighting."

              "We gave Doc a long-range kinetic kill weapon and Kage a small plasma carbine so he could act as spotter and protect him," Lucky said more helpfully. "Twingo insisted on the biggest energy weapon he could carry, so I am not certain where he plans to be when we land."

              "Hopefully he hangs back and keeps any ground forces from closing in behind us," Jason said. "Give me a hand with this, Lucky." He turned and slipped his feet into the armor and grabbed Lucky's proffered forearm and pushed himself up and back into the unit. Once he had slid in his arms one at a time, he nodded to his synth friend. Lucky reached over and activated the armor via the external control panel, causing the suit to close slowly over Jason and seal.

             
There was the usual moment of claustrophobic panic Jason experienced each time the suit swallowed him up before the helmet linked to his neural implant and he could "see". A moment later and a gentle rush of air swirled through the helmet and indicators for individual subsytems began to wink green on his heads-up display. After it was fully activated the locks on the rack released and he was able to step off of the platform with a heavy
thud.

              "Are you sure you want to wear that contraption, Captain?" Crusher asked doubtfully. "Your training time in it is woefully inadequate."

              "I'm in full agreement," Jason said through the helmets audio projectors. "But without it I won't last long if we're right about what we'll be facing." Crusher seemed to consider this before nodding in ascent.

              "Thankfully, the one thing I did train for is flying the ship while wearing this thing," Jason quipped as he approached the weapons rack. "Otherwise, this would be the galaxy's shortest offensive on record." Even as he contemplated the array of man-portable weaponry hanging on the wall, he knew which he was going to carry; his second generation railgun. The first unit had been designed in a rush by Deetz and was based off his own AR-15 carbine he had boarded the gunship with when it had made an emergency landing on Earth. It had been incredibly powerful, but flawed in some significant ways. The newer version, designed by himself and Twingo, fired a slightly heavier tungsten-carbide projectile and sported a much-improved cooling system for the firing coils. It also had selectable fire; he could fire the rounds sub-hypersonic at a higher rate when in close quarters combat against a lightly armored enemy. If he needed maximum damage, however, the rifle would accelerate the round past Mach six as it left the barrel, slightly faster than its predecessor. The overpressure and muzzle blast from the weapon were considerable, so the low-speed fire mode was a necessity in confined spaces.