Star Crusades Nexus: Book 06 - Call to Arms (25 page)

“Great work. Send in the marines to finish to job.”

* * *

Teresa pulled on the thick safety straps and locked the buckled. It clamped shut with a reassuring firm clunk sound. From where she sat inside the armored cockpit, she had the perfect view of the escape from the Prometheus facility.

“Come on, pilot, get us out of here, and fast!”

Teresa hadn’t even noticed until now that the man at the controls was none other than Intelligence Director Johnson. The side of his face was unmistakable though, and when he spoke to Captain Tycho, she knew immediately who it was. There were only four of them in the cockpit, and they sat in two pairs, Johnson and Captain Tycho at the front, she and Captain Thompson in the next two. Olik and the other members of his team had moved to the cargo area and joined the platoon of marines already stationed on board.

“Hold on to your hats!” said Director Johnson.

He dumped more power to the engines, so much so that the internal gravity system struggled to match the acceleration, and Teresa could feel herself pinned to the seat. It calmed down a little after a few seconds, but only because the system had caught up with the ship’s escape.

“What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?” she asked.

Teresa’s voice was hoarse and almost out of breath. Johnson twisted in his seat and glanced at her, smiled, and then looked back.

“Teresa. Good to have you back there, just like old times!”

He wasn’t wrong either. Teresa found it hard to not think back to their time aboard the original Tamarisk. It was the insertion craft for the original Prometheus rescue mission. It made her feel old thinking about that event, especially as it had been so early in the last war. Right when Kerberos had fallen to revolt.

A lot has changed.

She looked at her two captains, both of whom were busy checking the monitors for signs of trouble. It wasn’t really necessary though. She spotted the ships through the mainscreen in front of them and lifted her arm to point.

And a lot has stayed the same.

“Yeah, I see them,” said Johnson.

The ship shared much in common with the basic philosophy of the original Tamarisk. The vessel was relatively small but equipped with armor, powerful engines, and was surprisingly nimble. As they burst out from the low orbit of Prometheus, the engines rumbled even harder.

“Look!”

Johnson pointed slightly to their right where a whirling maelstrom had appeared.

“The Rift,” Teresa said quietly.

“Twenty-three minutes to get there at this speed, assuming there are no problems. Those ships are out of range right now.”

He was referring to the craft Teresa had pointed out to him. The large formation of ships was moving around the planet, but it was hard to tell exactly what was happening from the visual feed alone.

“They might be out of range, but they know something’s up,” said Captain Tycho.

He focused his attention on the largest of the ships, the one that matched the shape of a massive trilobite type vessel. On closer examination, he could see an increase in the glowing around the engines. The numbers alongside the ship confirmed his assessment. The computer performed a very quick series of calculations before giving him a simple figure. It left him feeling numb.

“Director, that ship has changed course. It’s not on a pursuit vector anymore.”

They all knew what he was saying, but it took Teresa to ask the question.

“They’re heading for the Rift?”

He nodded slowly.

“Not just their command ship, their entire fleet. And at that speed, they will arrive at the Rift within two minutes of us.”

Johnson nodded.

“In that case, we’d better make sure we get there with time to spare.”

With almost perfect timing, as he finished speaking, the ship shuddered as though it had just broken the sound barrier. The view from the cockpit shifted slightly and then adjusted to level them off.

“Problem?” asked Captain Tycho.

Director Johnson tried to look at the status screens, but more heavy impacts shook the ship, and he was forced to concentrate on keeping Tamarisk II on a level course. Captain Thompson accessed the gunnery controls and camera units so that he could scan the surface of the ship.

“Nothing yet. I don’t see any ships out there.”

Teresa remembered the images of the battle around the moon of Eos in orbit of Gaxos in the Helios system. There had been many different types of ships, but also a large number of Biomech fighters, something that was new and hadn’t been seen in numbers before.

“Check for fighters. Remember, they are fully automated, no biological signatures, and difficult to spot on the heat trackers.”

Both captains altered their settings and began a detailed scan of the area around the ship. On one screen in front of Captain Tycho was a schematic of the ship, and around it a chessboard type design that showed space in three dimensions. One red dot appeared, and then another, and then a total of seven small shapes filled the unit.

“Oh, crap, we’ve got trouble,” Teresa said, “Get on the guns and bring them down.”

Director Johnson shook his head.

“Sorry, Teresa. That’s one thing we didn’t quite have time to finish.”

“What? You’re telling me we have no guns?”

He turned to her and grinned, an expression that almost matched something she would have expected from Spartan.

“No, the guns and turrets are fine, but there’s no automated computer control of them yet. They need to be controlled and tracked manually via the monitoring station back there.”

He pointed at the small computer room behind the cockpit. It was narrow, and banks of computers filled both sides. Teresa ripped off her straps and immediately bashed her head on the ceiling. Luckily, she’d lifted her hands, but the bewildering array of forces from the gravity generator and the accelerating ship made it almost impossible to move.

“Shut off the damned gravity generator. We’ll do this the old way.”

She then looked to her captains.

“Tycho, you stay here and help Johnson. Thompson, you’re with me.”

The gravity shut off as he unbuckled himself. The two of them carefully entered the next section of the ship, while keeping a firm grip on the multitude of grab handles fitted throughout. Teresa bashed her PDS Alpha armor several times before making it to the seating and dropping in. Captain Thompson went past, but as another strike hit the ship, he lost his grip.

“I’ve got you!” Teresa called out.

She swung him down with one hand. He grabbed another handle and dropped down into the position behind her and facing away.

“Thanks, that could have been…painful.”

Teresa said nothing and turned her attention to the targeting matrix. It was modern, state-of-the-art even. It showed a view from the turret mount on the side of the ship, as well as a radar system for identifying and tracking the movements of the Biomech fighters.

“I’ll take the dorsal mount.”

Captain Thompson nodded in agreement.

“Sure. I’ll take the flank guns.”

Teresa put her hands on the unit and moved it to control the target selection of the weapons. As soon as she tapped it, there was a clump like something had just broken off the ship.

“It’s the turret covers. Don’t forget, we’re supposed to be an unarmed transport.”

The Captain nodded and returned to his own screens and controls.

“Colonel, whatever you’re doing, it isn’t working. We’re taking gunfire to the starboard engine mount. A few more hits like that, and we’ll get to the Rift too late.”

“I know,” she shouted back, “Just give it everything you’ve got!”

Each of the dorsal turrets adjusted to track exactly where she was pointing, and they moved quickly and precisely. Although there was no way for sound to travel outside the vessel, she could certainly feel the grinding of the massive motors as they rotated above and behind the crew module.

There you are.

The shape of a tiny Biomech fighter came into view right behind the ship. For a second, it vanished too low for her to hit, but as it popped up, she flagged it and then hit the burst button. The transport vibrated a little as the row of four turrets opened fire, each of them emptying their cargo of 20mm flak rounds right at the craft. The guns were primitive in design and far less advanced than the railgun or particle beam technology used on almost all warships.

“Come on, they’re hitting the engines again!” shouted Director Johnson.

Teresa ground her teeth and swung the turrets a few degrees to the right. Most of the rounds missed, but at least one struck the lead fighter. The initial impact was less than inspiring. It began to spin. After a few more seconds, it lost control and then spun out of view.

“One down!” she said.

Captain Thompson monitored the flanks from the multiple cameras fitted all over the outside of the ship. While one group of fighters hit the rear, the second larger group zigzagged slightly above and below so that one moment they were on the left, and the next they were on the right.

“Stay still, damn you,” he muttered.

The transport thundered on, its engines continually dumping more fuel into space as they accelerated faster and faster. The Biomech fighters had no problem in keeping up and even after three of the seven were downed, the remaining four split up to harass the aft of the ship.

“How’s she doing?” Teresa asked when one of the fighters vanished once again.

“Not good, one of the fuel feeds is severed. Any second now, and we’re going to lose power to that unit.”

“What about that?”

Although she was seated in the next section, she could still see inside the cockpit and the view out through the main screen. Right in front of them was the unmistakable shape of a Biomech warship. Director Johnson nodded in agreement.

“I know. It’s one of their Ravager class ships. I assumed they would stay in low orbit and continue dropping off troops. It looks like your plan is working after all.”

The clatter of auto cannons persisted as the turrets continued their work against the fighters. From outside, it looked as though a small cloud of flies were buzzing around a sugary treat. Gray streaks shot out from all directions about the ship, as gun after gun picked out at them, and one more fighter exploded in an orange flash.

“Yes!” cried out Captain Thompson, forgetting himself for a moment.

“Great work, now all…” she said before she spotted what the last three fighters were doing.

“Brace, brace, brace!” was all she had time for.

The three remaining fighters must have received a signal because as one they accelerated at high speed toward the rear of the ship. The two Alliance officers pumped round after round at them, and even though they managed to cripple one, it wasn’t enough to stop the combined wreckage of three Biomech fighters from hitting the rear. They struck with a sickening crunch that echoed throughout the ship. The hum of the engines stopped immediately and was then followed by the sound of alarms.

“We’re in trouble,” said Captain Tycho.

“He’s right,” confirmed Johnson, “Engines are offline, guns too.”

He turned back in his seat to look at Teresa.

“We’re a sitting duck.”

Teresa didn’t say a word. She was busy looking at the image of the large Biomech ship coming at them. She lifted her hand to point at its biological design.

“Now we’re done,” Captain Tycho whispered.

The bitterness and disappointment in his voice was hard to hear. Teresa, on the other hand, looked positively angry, but far from beaten.

“That’s not an attack ship. It’s a Bioray.”

All of them looked as the colorful vessel moved ever closer. Johnson considered it and then turned to the others.

“You’re right. They mean to board us. That means we have a chance. I need anybody with technical knowledge to come with me. We need to get the generators back online. Then we’ll have minimal engine power and guns.”