Brink of Destruction, page 37
The first breach remained quiet. He cursed and jetted toward the next pylon, closest to the control panel and the cadged-together computer module.
Haney was clamped down near the module, his autogun roaring as he poured fire into the third doorway. Bannon rose over the limb of the reactor to the autogunner’s left, leveling his own weapon as he cleared the cover—cover that he would have been extremely nervous about if he’d had any other choice.
A flood of the aliens, both the blue-blooded, long-limbed ones and the more compact cannon fodder that bled pink, was pouring through that opening. Their fire was more disciplined than Bannon would have expected, but maybe the alien command was getting nervous about so much weapons fire around the reactor.
He wasn’t so much, especially seeing as he was shooting away from it.
Dragging his weapon’s red dot across the mob of assaulting aliens, he stroked the trigger each time an inhuman shape blossomed behind it. His bullets punched through carapace armor, which was much less formidable than the constructs that were currently drifting fragments and debris elsewhere in the chamber.
Still, there were a lot of them, and a flurry of energy bolts, anemic compared to the constructs’ cannons but still lethal, snapped past him, forcing him lower and buying them some space. The Corvanite fire was picking up, but the aliens had them seriously outnumbered.
He shot another through the helmet, just before a renewed flurry of bolts forced him back to cover again. Haney’s CAG-47 fell silent as the gunner cursed. Bannon spared him a glance, but Haney was unhurt. His autogun, however, had taken a bolt to the muzzle, and the front third of the weapon was a glowing, smoking ruin.
Bannon rose up once more and fired into the spreading crowd of aliens flooding the chamber. They were scattering as fast as they could clear the entryway, and the bodies floating just inside the chamber were starting to act as cover. Soon, they’d have enough guns inside the reactor compartment to overwhelm the dwindling Corvanites, at too many angles to cover.
Yet while they were currently cut off, First Special Tasks Phalanx was not alone.
A ripping roar of fire that wasn’t alien energy weapons sounded in the entryway, and several of the aliens were swept away in a torrent of metal and carnage. Blue and pink blood sprayed across black walls and the doorway, and the dynamic of the fight was suddenly changed.
Bannon tracked another of the spindly aliens as it skimmed the interior wall, and shot it three times until it jerked and went limp, its maneuvering unit slamming it into the base of one of the smaller pylons. It careened off the structure and tangled up another of its fellows, which was desperately firing at anything that moved until a dozen six-millimeter rounds punched through it and sent it spinning against the wall.
Bannon ceased fire as more warriors in Corvanite hardsuits flowed into the reactor compartment, slowing due to the need to deconflict and check their targets now that there were more Corvanites downrange. A few rounds came dangerously close, but Bannon was to the point where he’d let the line phalanxes’ lieutenants and squad sergeants note who was being a bit too careless with their fire and deal with it.
He had his own phalanx to worry about. And now that he had some breathing room, he mentally drew back to take stock.
The sound was almost imperceptible, a faint rumble through the entire structure. Bannon wasn’t even sure he’d heard it at first, but then the last of the scattered aliens in the chamber stiffened and went limp, several of them still sailing along their last vectors until they collided with pylons or walls, one careening toward the reactor itself until it bounced off and went spinning away.
An alarm chirped in his helmet, transmitted by the computerized monstrosity he’d clamped to the control panel. With a sudden, gut-clenching realization of what had just happened, he pivoted toward it and triggered his maneuvering jets, his heart pounding as he prayed they weren’t already doomed.
Hern had beaten him to it, and was hovering just over the module, reading the screen. He looked up as Bannon got closer, braking recklessly. “We’re all right for the moment, sir, if I’m reading this right. It looks like the control program intercepted the destruct command.” He looked toward the pylon just above them as the station seemed to shudder again. “Though that might only be a temporary respite.”
Bannon nodded, looking toward the doorway that was still disgorging more Corvanite reinforcements, the fresh phalanxes’ medics already moving to see what they could do for those of First Special Tasks Phalanx that had been hit. He wasn’t looking for the medics, though, but for the senior officer.
“Captain Haarot!” He recognized his old company commander even in full armor. There was something about that hard, unforgiving man that radiated off him, even in the anonymity of a hardsuit.
Haarot looked up as he heard his name, identifying Bannon as he rose above the limb of the reactor. “Status, Lieutenant?”
“The enemy sent a self-destruct command, sir.” Technically, Bannon might answer directly to Commander Fox now, but he had been Captain Haarot’s subordinate for much longer, and old habits died hard. “The hijack module has stopped it for now, but it appears that the worm program is still in the system, trying to overload the reactor.”
Haarot turned toward the computer module, as if he could burn the worm to dust with his glare, then he tapped a control on his gauntlet. “We have been placing relays through the structure as we moved to link up with you. We should be able to reach Commander Fox or Commander Reidel.” He touched the control again as Bannon switched his own comm to the main command net.
Haarot didn’t need to alert the commanders. “I say again,” Commander Fox’s voice boomed over the net. “All non-essential personnel fall back to the docking bays. Tech crews six and seven proceed to the command and power levels and see if you can stabilize the situation. All warriors to be on the assault shuttles and dusting off within ten minutes.”
Bannon and Haarot shared a look, one that was perhaps more equal than either man had ever felt before. They were both commanders, on a similar operational level, if not rank-wise, and they both had concerns about their men.
Ten minutes could be a very long time when there was a ticking time bomb inside the station’s computer systems, but it was also nowhere near long enough to get this many men—and the wounded—back aboard the assault shuttles and with enough standoff to survive if the worm got past their capture program and killed the reactor’s containment.
“I’ll see you back aboard the Thunderer, Bannon.” Captain Haarot had never been given to small talk, and now, with the urgency of the situation being what it was, he was even less so.
Bannon nodded. He knew his old commander, probably better than most.
“Abbott, Adamas, Hern!” Bannon called out Corporal Adamas instead of Summ, because First Squad’s squad sergeant was currently almost catatonic, being treated by one of Haarot’s medics while Tassandas worked on Lukas. “Form everyone up, on the breach in thirty seconds!”
He held his position for the moment, watching as his squad sergeants gathered in the paltry remnant of the phalanx. First Special Tasks was down more than an entire squad, but they’d accomplished their mission. Bannon’s distant grief would come back to haunt him later, but for now, he was proud of his men, even as they left the drifting bodies and parts of their fallen brothers behind them. If the hold on the station’s systems was stabilized, they could retrieve their dead. If not, there were worse burials than to be incinerated in a thermonuclear explosion.
They were Corvanites, after all. Death had come, and they had gone to meet it.
“Reactor instabilities holding steady.” He didn’t recognize the voice over the comms, but presumed it was one of the task force’s techs. “All other systems appear to have crashed. Life support has failed. We have not attempted to get into the central information hub, but expect that it was wiped, unless Third Special Tasks got to it first.”
“This is Sierra Tango Three Six. We attempted to isolate the information databank, but it appears that the enemy was able to locally initiate destruction procedures. The control module burned out as soon as we connected it.”
“Acknowledged,” Commander Fox broke in. “Get back to the assault shuttles.”
“First Squad up, sir.” Bannon’s helmet automatically switched back to the phalanx net as Corporal Adamas reported in. He and the remainder of Summ’s squad were gathered near the breach, along with Summ, already half cocooned in a field medevac shell, and the line medic who was still trying to stabilize him. The shock and blood loss had to be setting in.
“Same with Third, sir.” Hern wasn’t at the breach yet, but the cone formation of Third Squad, with Hern and Trent in the center, was jetting that way. Abbott already had Second on security at that point, and seemed to be waiting for the rest.
“First has point, then Third. I’ll follow with Second.” Speed was essential, but while it appeared that the ghost ships’ destruct command had killed their personnel aboard the station, it was not the Corvanite way to let security go slack, even on a rapid emergency extract.
Adamas led the way, the medic towing Summ in the rear as the squad flowed into the corridor. They hardly needed to clear their six on the way through, as the line company still had security elements outside, and so they quickly raced through the corridors, weapons still at the ready and eyes and muzzles pivoting toward every opening, as another shudder went through the station.
“Reactor instability spike. That worm is definitely trying.” The tech wasn’t much for comms procedure, but that fit most techs that Bannon had known.
“This is Six Actual.” Despite the desperation of the situation, Commander Fox was not going to be stampeded into the techs’ sloppiness. “Can you counter it?”
“So far, yes, sir.” The nameless tech seemed slightly chastened. “If we hadn’t had the chyotsu tech and intel, though, it would have vaporized us twice now. It’s sophisticated. And slippery.”
“Commanders, get your men aboard the assault shuttles. Now.” While his voice was still calm, the fact that Fox had seen fit to issue that additional urging spoke to the extreme nature of their situation. “Captain Antall, if you can’t isolate that worm completely in the next four minutes, I want to you set whatever firewalls you can and fall back to the breach points. I won’t leave anyone aboard this station if we can’t stop it.”
Bannon skimmed through the passageways behind Combs and Donovan. They were already nearly to the docking bay. Returning, without worrying too much about enemy fire, with the threat of an imminent reactor failure behind them, had gone much, much faster than the initial infiltration and assault.
The lock had been breached, with a trio of mobile Corvanite locks set up in its place. Much smaller than the alien airlock, the modules had been designed for station and starship breaching, including sealing rents in hulls made by heavy weapons fire. The membrane stretched between the struts holding them in place probably wasn’t as tough as the alien doors, but it also hadn’t been designed to retract when pierced.
Cycling through felt like it took forever, especially as they could only get one squad in a lock at a time, and there were a lot of troops to get through. The smallness of the locks worked to their advantage, though, and they cycled fast.
Bannon was the last through, following First Squad as they jetted toward the assault shuttles. The docking bay was now packed with Corvanite craft, the conical shuttles clinging to every surface with their landing jacks. A steady stream of hardsuited troops were moving to each of those shuttles, and the remnant of First Special Tasks was nearly to their own, dodging other warriors as they went. It could easily turn into utter chaos, but the mustering NCO in Commander Fox’s personal assault shuttle was keeping things running smoothly, directing the squads via projected holos on their visors, at least those he could reach through the regimental comms.
He braked as he neared the shuttle, coming to a relative halt just outside the ramp and pivoting to take one more look at the docking bay. The auxiliary craft were still there, currently abandoned as the techs were hurried back to their shuttles. The defenders were still floating in the bay in clouds of clotting blue and pink blood.
“Captain Antall, status.” Commander Fox’s voice brooked no delay in reply.
“We’re almost there, sir,” Antall replied tightly. He was clearly intensely focused, while still all too aware of how close annihilation really was.
“‘Almost’ isn’t good enough, Captain. Disengage and get back to the docking bays.”
“I just need a couple more minutes, Commander!” The techs, as usual, were somewhat undisciplined.
“Now, Captain.”
“Got it!” Captain Antall ignored the commander’s insistence. “Sir, I believe we have the worm isolated! It should be safe now.”
“Noted, Captain.” There was a certain wry amusement to be heard somewhere behind Commander Fox’s carefully controlled anger. “Now get back to the assault shuttles like you were ordered. We’ll see if your containment holds.”
“All in, sir.” Sergeant Ollan had remained at the docking bay, working logistics with the other support NCOs. It had been the best place for him.
Bannon nodded and jetted into the assault shuttle, quickly shedding his maneuvering harness and strapping down to his acceleration couch near the ramp. Ollan was securing himself in his own couch as the ramp sealed, the landing claws already releasing the alien deck. Bannon switched his helmet display to the onboard feed just as the faint acceleration of the maneuvering thrusters turned into a full burn, the shuttle clear of the docking bay and pulling for deep space, the pilots intent on getting to minimum safe distance as quickly as possible.
They were one of dozens of such shuttles pushing out toward the hemispherical screen of starships that surrounded the station, dimly lit by the deep red glow of the brown dwarf beneath. Behind them, the spidery construct of the station had shed some debris, but seemed as dark and dead as ever.
Bannon let out a long, slow breath, and rested his head against the back of his acceleration couch.
CHAPTER 46
“Move!”
The faint whistle that Draven had heard through his hardsuit’s external mics had risen to a gale-force howl. The vithang’s last command hadn’t just shut down the base’s systems, but had apparently opened a hatch or airlock somewhere, and now the base’s atmosphere was rapidly leaking out into the void, accelerating the process that had been started with the shutdown of power.
Draven pounded down the corridor beside Karou and a handful of other privates and non-coms. He hadn’t heard from Captain Colombe since they’d parted ways, but he hoped the officer had at least made some progress on getting everyone remaining into hardsuits and ready to move. Ordinarily, silence from officers was considered a good thing, but at the moment it was making him nervous.
Concentrate on finding the vehicles. They’re our only lifeline. He was only a non-com. He couldn’t be responsible for all of them, especially if Colonel Dirix listened to the voices that Draven already knew were saying that the only way to survive for any length of time was to stay put.
The hardsuits would run out of air much faster than the vehicles. They just had to find them.
The base was a maze, and they’d already had to backtrack more than once. He was fighting back despair already, and the howl of the wind as the air escaped into the vacuum outside only made it worse.
Maybe that kid was right. Maybe this is it. Maybe we’re just raging against the dying of the light.
He shook it off, speeding up to try to catch up with Karou. They hadn’t run into any further resistance. A round-bodied, long-limbed alien lay crumpled on the floor as they passed, not a mark on its armored suit. That final word from Rathavas had been a kill switch for everything in the base. That collaborator hadn’t been lying about implants, apparently.
“Here, First Sergeant!” Karou had stopped to check the next portal. He was getting hasty and a little sloppy, not even bothering to lift his weapon to cover the entryway as he opened the membranous door.
Draven still couldn’t bring himself to reprimand the junior soldier. They were on a forlorn hope, and he knew it. And the more still, dead bodies they saw, the less likely it became that they were going to encounter any living aliens or human collaborators at all.
The base was now a tomb. It only remained to be seen if it would be theirs as well.
He came to the door and peered through. Sure enough, their crawlers had been lined up there, bumper to bumper, facing a massive bay door that was still currently closed. This place wasn’t the source of the loss of atmosphere.
“Captain Colombe, this is First Sergeant Draven.” Callsigns were irrelevant now, and with units so thoroughly intermixed, they might sow confusion in a time where seconds counted. “We have located the vehicles. I can send my track to you.”
“This is Colonel Dirix.” Draven stiffened despite himself. “While I can compliment you on your initiative, First Sergeant, I question what good it does. We will only die out there on the lifeless surface of this world. There is no one left to retrieve us.” He paused, and Draven almost spoke again, but the colonel continued. “Our medics still have a plentiful supply of painkillers.”
He didn’t finish the thought, but Draven could read between the lines, and he wasn’t sure which horrified him more: the thought that the colonel would suggest such a suicidal act of despair as drugging themselves into senselessness until their air ran out, or the fact that he wasn’t immediately repulsed by the sheer cowardice of it.
“We don’t know that none of our ships survived, sir. And something had to have happened to trigger the emissary’s kill order. Those sirens weren’t because of us. Someone else is in this system, and if it was more Zolarian ships that found a way to trace us here, then we might have a chance.” He had no idea how anyone might have managed to trace a transit through a wormhole that shouldn’t even have been there, but he knew that things had not all gone the vithang’s way, and not just with the Zolarian rebellion.
