Mission: A Military Scifi Epic (Blue Sun Armada Book 3) Page 2

  The moment the lift stopped, Morten spoke. “Everyone remain where you are. My men will sweep the platform outside the lift doors, then give the all clear. No one leaves the lift until then. If fighting breaks out, return to level one and send it back down for us.”

  Penelope thought he sounded as nervous as she felt. The man had been to the center of the Exactas Meridias and faced the source of the mutants. He’d seen hard fighting and earned the right to be fearful. Though she would never label his behavior thus.

  Time ticked by on her ABA helmet visor.

  “How are you doing, Duchess?” Morten asked.

  “I feel shorter for some reason. Is that normal in ABA?” she asked. “It’s disorienting because I can tell I’m several inches taller but the visor view has a peculiar effect.”

  Morten chuckled. “It’s surprisingly common. Personally, I feel tall as Duke Marlboro in mine.”

  She laughed and it felt fantastic. “That is a phrase soldiers say, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Tall as Duke Marlboro or tall as the duke. Everyone knows which duke. Even Lieutenant Ogre uses it, though he towers over Uron in reality.”

  A sergeant returned from outside. “Platform secure, Captain.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Artho.” Morten consulted his vambrace, issued orders to his team leaders, then to the civilians. “We’re moving out. Stay within our perimeter at all times. When we reach the power transfer station, you may venture out only with an escort of two or more soldiers.”

  Led by a squad in heavy ABA, the Danestar team moved purposefully into the darkness of level nine.

  Penelope thought the ship creaked but knew it was an illusion. Something moved on the high ceiling. “What was that, Captain?”

  “That was a rat, Duchess,” Ogre answered. “For that type of question, please ask me. The captain has a lot of responsibilities.”

  “Of course. Thank you. I’ve never seen one alive,” she said.

  “Someday, no one will see any of them alive,” Ogre said. “They are fraking abominations.”

  “The duchess didn’t ask for your opinion, Lieutenant,” Morten said. “And watch your tone.”

  Ogre fell back a step and stood straight. “Very good, sir.”

  Penelope could have contradicted the captain, set her own boundaries, but she didn’t, not this time. She would see how this was received and whether it improved or damaged her relationship with the Danestar Guard.

  The column arrived at the Power Transfer Station. Larger than most buildings on Gildain, the cooling tower alone rose hundreds of meters. The main building was shorter, wider, and missing its main door. All around it was a platform similar to a landing strip for an industrial complex.

  Captain Morten stood with his hands on his hips. “Lieutenant Billings, search and clear the main building. Sergeant Artho, set up a defensive perimeter while we wait. Construct barricades to cover choke points. And fix that door.”

  “Right away, sir,” Billings said and moved out with his Marlboro platoon.

  “I’m glad Duke Marlboro assigned them to us. They have more experience fighting the rat mutants than almost anyone,” Morten said.

  Maekshift and his team unpacked tools.

  “Hold off, Hugh,” Penelope said. “Let our escort secure the area first.”

  “Of course,” Maekshift laughed nervously. “Staying alive is one of my favorite hobbies.”

  Penelope realized too late she should have laughed at his joke but couldn’t take her eyes off a dozen creatures crawling out of a ventilation shaft near a catwalk leading to the expedition’s position. At first glance, they seemed far away, only… they didn’t feel far away. She searched the massive room for similar access points and found rats, cats, and men with twisted backs crawling into view.

  She pointed. “Captain Morten, I trust you are aware of those things.”

  “Sergeant Artho, get everyone inside the transfer station and get those barricades up,” Morten said. “Lieutenant Billings, we’ve woken up one of the mutant swarms.”

  “I see it, Captain. My chief NCO already sent out a situation report and requested reinforcements from the EM garrison on the top level. We requested additional soldiers from the fleet as well,” Billings said.

  “Very good.” Morten jabbed an armored finger at Ogre. “Get the duchess to shelter and guard her with your life.”

  Penelope held up one hand to stop the big lieutenant from grabbing her by the arm. “I know the way, sir.” She included the civilians in her next command. “Follow me.”

  Marching into the transfer station didn’t seem like defeat. She wondered why she didn’t feel more alarmed, because the number of mutants flowing into the chamber increased second by second. The Danestar Guard and Marlboro Heavy Infantry were ready for this. Her place was with them, if she could ditch her bodyguard or get him to obey her instead of Captain Morten.

  Neither seemed like a real possibility. She spent her time checking the work of her engineers and monitoring the battle in her helmet earpiece and on her low resolution vambrace screen.

  “Well, there is good news,” Maekshift said. “This wasn’t a total fail. Transfer Station 9B is definitely malfunctioning—and I see why. We can repair it with the tools we brought and greatly improve the station’s maneuverability, shield generation, and power supply.”

  “Thank you, Hugh.” Penelope stood in the doorway watching Captain Morten, his other Danestar officer, Lieutenant Craft, and Lieutenant Billings preparing the platform’s defense. They had heavy gunners at key choke points, quick reaction teams ready to move wherever the fighting was the most intense, and combat medics staged to retrieve wounded.

  “We are much better prepared than before,” Ogre said.

  She gave him a smile. “Of course, Lieutenant. Do you wish you were out there instead of babysitting me?”

  “Absolutely, Duchess, but please don’t tempt me. Protecting you is my responsibility. Captain Morten ordered me to disobey you if you try to send me away from your side for any reason,” Ogre said.

  “Worry not, good sir. I shan’t compromise your honor.”

  Ogre smiled awkwardly at her theater voice. She wasn’t an actor, though her parents had practically raised her in auditoriums and drama festivals. Playing the part of famous characters was one of her secret pleasures. Maybe the over-muscled giant wasn’t the best target for that kind of playfulness.

  She listened to the battle comms without touching her talk button or even allowing her fingers near that part of her gauntlet’s interior. The controls seemed mindbogglingly sensitive. Penelope worried she would key up her microphone by accident, though she did understand how to deactivate pressure points effectively. That was the key to avoiding a wide range of mistakes. “I’m going to put Maekshift and his colleagues on a review of ABA technology once this is over.”

  “Hell yes. I mean, that would be good, Duchess. Tell them we have a list of things that need fixing,” Ogre said.

  Listening to her bodyguard’s enthusiastic response, Penelope realized something. He wasn’t from a cultured background but he tried to play the part. She wondered if he’d become an officer on charm and good looks, or skill and hard work. She hoped it was the latter.

  “Billings, wait until they pack that walkway before you open fire,” Morten said via the battle comm. “When they can’t maneuver, serve it to them hot.”

  “We’ll slaughter them by the hundreds, Captain,” Billings answered.

  Minutes passed. Mutants filled the most direct route to the transfer station, gathered on other walkways, and peeked over railings in search of more ways to reach their prey.

  “How can there still be so many?” she asked. “BSA ground forces destroyed thousands of them during the first mission.”

  Ogre thought for a moment, probably reminding himself to talk like an officer instead of a street brawler. “The mission briefing said something mutated the original crew and whatever animals were on this station.”

&n
bsp; Penelope seriously doubted the numbers added up. From what she was seeing and knew of other engagements, there were several times as many mutants as there had been crew and livestock originally.

  “Maybe their monster boss, whatever it is, makes them procreate. Maybe it has some mechanism we don’t know about for gathering new battle slaves,” Ogre said. “Has to be one or both of those things.”

  “You may be onto something, Lieutenant,” she said.

  Accelerator guns opened fire, slaughtering dozens of mutants with the first volley. She threw her hands over the ear sections of her helmet, then dropped them in embarrassment. “My apologies. That was much louder than expected. I thought the helmets had sound filters.”

  “Let me check yours.” Ogre stepped close, popped open a panel on the back of her armor, and typed rapidly. “ABA settings can be reviewed and adjusted by a teammate, usually a sergeant or above. Useful when you don’t have time to do it yourself.”

  Or when you don’t know what you’re about. Penelope kept the thought to herself and pushed it down as far as she could. Why would she be an expert in ABA use?

  “There. That should be better,” he said.

  “Oh, that really is. Thank you, Lieutenant. Were the filters on at all?”

  He hesitated. “No, Duchess. I’m pretty good at ABA setup. Do you want me to go through the rest of the menu?”

  “Please do.” The battle raged beyond the transfer station’s doors while the gorgeous brute typed on her back. He closed the panel with a snap.

  “That should make a lot of things easier and use less of your battery as well,” he said.

  “My thanks,” she said, then strode toward Maekshift and the engineers. “Get this transfer station working.”

  “Now, in the middle of a battle?” Maekshift asked. “I mean we can. I just didn’t know what the normal procedure was. My people have never been attacked before.”

  “You’re not being attacked. You’re inside. Captain Morten and his soldiers are doing the fighting. I want you to make sure this trip is worth their valiant effort.”

  Maekshift spoke rapidly, already waving at his team to get moving. “Of course. That’s smart. To be honest, watching the battle is stressful. Come with me, people. We’re going to fix the Exactas Meridias! For the BSA!”

  Maekshift and his team hustled deeper into the building. Penelope faced the perimeter.

  “Well done, Duchess,” Lieutenant Ogre said in a somber voice. “That was like something right out of an officer candidate’s school leadership module.”

  “Thank you, Ogre. Can we get a little closer to the fight, or would that get you in trouble?”

  “As long as you allow me to pull you back if necessary, we can move closer to the barricades. If they get overrun, it’ll be ugly.”

  “For all of us,” Penelope said, allowing her bodyguard to escort her to the combat medic’s staging area behind the barricades.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “There has been a problem on the Exactas Meridias,” Gregory said via bio-comm.

  “There’s always a problem on that cursed station,” Ron said, wrapping his post flight inspection and heading toward the locker room.

  “I’ll keep you updated,” Gregory said. “But I have my hands full on the Vengeance. She’s in good shape, which means half the sorties are flying off my flight deck.”

  “It’s the most modern ship we have,” Ron said, eyes tracking dozens of maintenance activities he passed.

  “But not large,” Gregory said. “For honor and respect.”

  “Honor and respect, son.” Ron closed the link.

  Ron showered with the other pilots, not wanting to waste time crossing half the ship to clean up in his cabin. The jumpsuit he borrowed from the quartermaster was as plain as they came, but everyone recognized him. Victor was still in his life pod recovery vessel, searching for the last survivors and competing with Fortune for top marks. At this point, half of their recoveries were deceased.

  At least their families would get funerals and closure.

  The mood on the ship was upbeat despite the death and destruction over the last few days. Ron thought it was because everyone was busy doing something that mattered. He showed respect, offered condolences, and never missed a chance to share a joke or slap a hardworking crew member on the back.

  Guards stood at attention as he marched toward the bridge. He returned their salutes and went inside. Patricia was there, tired from a double shift. The mood here was more somber than on the regular decks.

  “Patricia,” he said and hugged her briefly.

  “Husband.” She smiled just for him. “You showered. How nice. Maybe you are the man I married.”

  “Duke, I’m glad you’re here,” Admiral Roth said, standing in the center of the bridge in his mech-like command chair. “Duke Hawk has proposed a towing option that looks promising. We have ships with their modifications moving into position now. The EM won’t be fast, but it will be an improvement.”

  “What’s holding it back besides the obvious mass limitations?” Ron asked.

  “Most of the station’s navigation engines are still offline, and its mass will always be a problem,” Roth said. “There are times when dormant engines come alive and fire in the opposite direction we’re moving. Whatever creature rules the mutants is putting on the brakes.”

  Ron approached the communications officer. “Can I speak with Duke Hawk directly?”

  “Certainly, Duke. Would you like a private or public call?” the young man asked.

  “Public. Put it on one of the big screens if it doesn’t interfere with operations,” Ron said.

  Moments later, Herman Hawk stood before them, larger than life.

  “Duke,” Ron said. “Good to see you. I understand we owe you our thanks for some recent innovations.”

  “We are attempting to do our part,” Herman said. “House Hawk has little to offer in terms of soldiers or combat pilots. I hope to bring you further innovations to make those you have safer and more effective.”

  “You have my gratitude,” Ron said. “Keep up the good work.”

  He relinquished the screen to the communications officer, who thanked him and put it to other use. One captain after another consulted with Admiral Roth. Some were preparing for the next battle, others focused on repairs, and some struggled to keep their ships in one piece after the last confrontation.

  “This is a mess,” Patricia said.

  Ron held her hand when no one was looking. Her fingers disappeared in his. She was gymnast small and strong. “Good thing we know how to clean up messes. How many times did we think all was lost against the Zezner?”

  “Usually only three or four times a week, for most of our lives.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re here. Let’s watch the fleet officers work.”

  “Maybe we’ll learn something,” Ron said, already fascinated by the fast pace of events. Before the battle, he’d thought everything about ship life happened in slow motion. Now, there was never enough time.

  An alert chimed in his ear, something like the House Marlboro secure comms, but different. It sounded… better—deeper and more pleasing to the ear.

  “Go for Marlboro,” Ron said.

  Patricia raised an eyebrow, aware he was receiving a communication she couldn’t hear. With them so near each other, that should be impossible. She might not be able to listen in, but her bio-com data boss should have alerted her of activity on their network.

  “Ron, this is Herman. Can we speak informally?” Duke Herman Hawk asked.

  “It seems we already are,” Ron said. “What’s on your mind, Herman?”

  “My nephew is on the EM. Dangerous job, but he’s resourceful,” Herman said.

  Ron waited, holding up a hand to indicate he would catch Patricia up when the call was over.

  “You know my reputation—my house’s reputation. We think outside the box and more than a few members of the Assembly of Lords believe us to be quite mad,” Herman
said. “Nathan, my nephew, takes it to a new level.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “He has a theory I’m not sure what to make of. I thought you should know in case it pans out.” Herman paused. “He believes there is a Talgar on the Exactas Meridias.”

  “Doing what?” Ron asked.

  “Unknown. The creature must be there for a reason. I’ll tell you more when I know more. But I should also warn you that ninety percent of Nathan’s schemes end poorly, and never as he planned them.”

  “And you sent him anyway?” Ron asked.

  “The man is useless for anything except getting answers when he locks onto an idea.”

  “Stubborn determination isn’t always a bad trait, Herman. Thanks for coming to me with this. Let me know if you need anything—resources, man power, or even official orders. You know I’ve been pushing everyone to develop the best technology possible.”

  “And that is why you have the eternal loyalty of House Hawk,” Herman said. “No one before you has understood us so well.”

  “I just want better ways to go fast and blow things up,” Ron laughed.

  Herman joined him, seeming to enjoy the moment. “I would almost believe that, Duke. Except I have seen dozens of very pragmatic research requests. Food manufacturing technologies, storage, dozens of medical research mandates. Don’t worry, I won’t ruin your reputation.”

  “Thanks, Herman. Stay in touch.”

  Ron took a moment to catch up on local events.

  “More of the same here,” Patricia said. “What did Herman want?”

  Ron explained the conversation without putting his opinion on anything.

  “Interesting,” she said. “What would a Talgar be doing on the EM and how could he, or she, or whatever survive this long alone?”