Omega Force 6: Secret of the Phoenix (2 page)

The device took a surprisingly long time to break the cipher. Given the assumed level of sophistication of the local population it should have only taken a minute or so at most. The delay caused Lucky to take a closer look at the lock, curious as to why this piece of equipment would be so much more advanced than anything else they’d encountered so far. Eventually the lock beeped and clicked, opening the large double door off the stairwell into what looked like a staging area.

As soon as the eight of them were in the room, the lights came up and twelve heavily armed, and armored, troops fanned out from six different alcoves located around the room. “Do not move!” one of the troops shouted. The Marines looked ready to try their luck with the numerically superior force and allow the other six still in the stairwell to complete the mission, but Mazer had no intention of needlessly throwing lives away.

“Stand fast, Marines!” he ordered.

“Weapons down, and tell your friends out on the stairs to come in and join us,” the same trooper said, leveling his weapon at Mazer’s head. “I won’t ask again.”

“Alpha squad! Form up and lay your weapons down,” Mazer said, his eyes never leaving the trooper’s. He was a native Olemite, a species called setaras, and looked to be a little on the bulky side compared to the average bipedal prime, but it seemed the species carried a lot of external fat. All of the fourteen soldiers facing down the Marines looked bloated and severely overweight, but it seemed an aspect of the species’ physiology rather than the result of a poor diet.

“So your mechanical helper wasn’t armed?” the troop continued in a condescending voice, supremely confident that his armed advantage nullified the Marines’ numerical one. “You will follow me. You will be kept somewhere safe while we deal with your friends on the grounds.”

Mazer seethed with rage, but he also recognized that he had two cards yet to play: the setaras didn’t seem to know what thirteen Galvetic warriors could do with just their hands, and they had no idea that Lucky was still fully armed and still in combat mode.

“I will wait for your signal, Captain,” Lucky said so softly only Mazer could hear it. He nodded once before addressing the setara.

“We willfully surrender,” he said to the lead guard in as calm a voice as he could manage.

“You will follow us, hands on your heads and no talking,” the setara said. Four of them arrayed themselves in front of the squad and the remaining eight brought up the rear, a sound strategy to keep more guns where they could observe the Galvetic formation without being directly seen.

They were led out of the staging area and into a wide, opulent hallway. The palace must have had its own backup as it seemed to be operating under normal power conditions. Mazer observed everything as they were marched down towards an imposing set of armored doors, frowning as he saw them. They weren’t in the intel brief they’d received. Once they reached the top floor it was supposed to be a simple matter of fighting their way to the target. As he looked at the doors more closely, he realized that they wouldn’t likely have been able to breach them in a timely manner. Lucky could have possibly cut through them, but even he would have taken too long.

The lead setara moved ahead and had a brief conference with the two guards posted outside the door, gesturing to the prisoners as he did. After a little bit of back and forth, along with a few calls on a com unit, the doors groaned open and the Marines were directed through to where another set of guards took responsibility for them and the original twelve remained behind. The doors swung shut with a resounding
boom.
Mazer could hardly believe what was happening. These beings had not only willfully brought thirteen Galvetic warriors and a battlesynth directly into their inner sanctum, but had then sealed them in. They were either extremely confident, extremely ignorant, or very, very stupid.

“You will wait in here,” the new lead guard said, gesturing through an open doorway to his right. “Lord Rorid wishes to interrogate you personally.”

“I look forward to it,” Mazer ground out.

“I can assure you … you don’t,” the guard said with another of those condescending smiles. Mazer shrugged and led the way into the holding room. It was quite large and easily accommodated them. When the door slammed shut and the locks were engaged, he turned in a slow circle, looking each of his Marines in the eye. He could see their anger and frustration, but they maintained discipline and were not complaining or questioning his decisions. Yet.

“This is most fortuitous,” Lucky finally broke the silence. “They will be bringing the target to you.”

“It was awfully accommodating of them to give us an escort past their main security checkpoint,” one of the platoon sergeants spoke up. This caused a few snorts and chuckles from the others. Mazer relaxed a small measure as he saw that morale was still high and his Marines were still on mission.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Mazer said. “We still have two squads fighting on the grounds, warships in orbit, and an extraction team waiting to get us out … let’s not mess our end up and have it all be for nothing.”

It was only twenty minutes later when the door banged open and four armed troops marched in.

“You will accompany us,” the lead guard said simply before motioning for them all to file out. They were led further down the huge, arching hall until they came to an open atrium. The guard simply pointed to the center of the floor as more guards filed in and surrounded them. “Do not move from this spot. Do not attempt anything that will force us to kill you.”

“Isn’t that the likely outcome anyway?” Mazer asked.

“That is not up to me. Now speak no further until instructed.”

The squad milled around under armed watch for another few minutes before a setara, dressed in an utterly absurd uniform, came strutting into the atrium from a far doorway.

“Are these the men who tried to storm my home and assassinate me?” he demanded in an imperial tone.

“Yes, Lord Rorid,” the lead guard said in a groveling tone. “We caught them coming up the service stairway. They are a splinter from the group that is even now attacking our forces elsewhere on the grounds.”

“Who is in charge?” Lord Rorid asked.

“I am,” Mazer said simply. The short setara stomped over to where Mazer stood, but stopped short once he got a good look at the hulking, angry warrior.

“Why have you brought war to my home?” Lord Rorid asked. “I do not recognize your species … what could I have possibly done to justify such aggression?”

“Besides being a sawed-off asshole? Nothing I can really put my finger on,” Mazer said in a bored tone. The guards around the atrium let out audible gasps at the insult. The result on Rorid was immediate. His normally light blue complexion shifted to a deep purple and his eyes bulged. He gaped like a fish out of water for a moment before finding his voice. In his anger he took another few steps closer.

“You dare to insult me in my own home? Who are you people!? I demand you answer me!”

“You’re not in much of a position to demand anything. I know you’re too dumb to have full time perimeter security on the grounds, but do you really think your little guns out in the hills will hold off the ships in orbit for much longer? I mean, really … how does someone so abjectly stupid rise to such a position on this planet? Some type of racial flaw? On my planet you would have likely been put to death pretty early … if your parents didn’t just drown you first.” Mazer’s casual insults were sending the warlord into a frenzy.

“You! … You! … I … I …” Rorid had now closed within six feet of Mazer and his guards were nervously fingering their weapons. Lucky, having worked with Crusher for years, knew the little despot was well within striking distance for the young warrior.

With no preamble, Mazer launched himself forward with a deafening roar. He flattened the much smaller setara, covering him with his body so that the guards didn’t have a clear shot. Their split second of hesitation was all the rest of the Marines needed. In an instant the atrium was transformed into a gladiatorial arena as enraged Galvetic warriors took their frustrations out on an undertrained and stunned security force.

Only a few of the guards managed to get off any shots, and all were well wide of their mark as they were killed or, if they were lucky, rendered unconscious. Lucky stood calmly in the middle of the storm, not engaging any targets as he took his role of “observer” to heart. He would only step in if it looked like Rorid’s life was in danger. But Mazer was a professional and had already secured the target’s hands behind his back and was calmly holding him down so a stray shot didn’t take him out.

Even with guards streaming in from other areas of the upper floor the altercation was over in mere minutes. The Marines had relieved the guards of their weapons and two of the three-man fire teams were pushing back towards the security door to establish a beachhead.

“Bravo, Charlie squads,” Mazer said into his com unit. “We’ve secured the objective. Break contact and rally on the top floor of the palace. Expect heavy resistance on the way up.” There were a handful of acknowledgements and the sounds of intensified fighting could be heard outside.

“We’ll hold here behind those blast doors and wait for our pickup,” Mazer said to Lucky. The battlesynth only nodded. The younger warrior fidgeted nervously before speaking again. “I hope I didn’t make too many mistakes,” he said, too low for his own troops to hear. “I imagine I didn’t compare to what it would have been like if Lord Felex had led the mission.”

Lucky didn’t answer immediately. “You lack experience,” he said finally, “but if Crusher had been leading this mission, I do not think it would have come to such a successful outcome. You have patience and you are able to remain calm when the plan falls apart, as it almost always will, and improvise quickly.

“Crusher is impulsive, impatient, and far more likely to try and force his way through, relying on his strength and skill. Your method has not only achieved your objective, but you’ve kept those under your command alive. Overall, well done, Captain.”

Mazer positively beamed with the high praise, but tried to keep a stern scowl pasted on his face. “I appreciate that, Lucky,” he said, “especially from you. But … we’re not out of here yet. In fact, we’d better contact the extraction team.” He opened a secure channel on his com. “This is Strike One. Mission objective is secure. We’re rallying to a defensible position. Clear for pickup.”

“
Omega One copies. We’re on our way
,” a familiar voice said back. 

Chapter 2

Jason watched with growing irritation as Crusher stomped about the bridge, arms crossed, refusing to talk to anyone. His petulant behavior had started when Omega Force was contacted to assist in a military operation that was being spearheaded by Crisstof Dalton. The Galvetic Marines were getting their first real combat operation and Crisstof knew it would be of special interest to Jason to see that they succeeded.

At first, Omega Force was simply to be there for support, a sort of relief valve in case Mazer’s platoon ran into trouble. The fear was that if they got pinned down or backed into a corner, their response may put the civilian population in harm’s way. As the mission planning went on, it became apparent that Captain Reddix was becoming overwhelmed by the enormity of the operation’s many moving parts and Jason volunteered Lucky to act as observer and liaison. He’d couched it in such a way that it appeared as if Mazer had graciously allowed the battlesynth to come along as a favor to Omega Force, thus not losing face in front of his troops.

Crusher assumed he’d be going and when he was told in no uncertain terms that he would not be accompanying the strike force, the temper tantrum had begun in earnest. It had been three days since the
Phoenix
had stealthily inserted under the cover of darkness, awaiting the pickup call for a mission that hadn’t even started yet. Three days the crew had been forced to deal with a pissed off three hundred and twenty pound killing machine. Doc, Twingo, and Kage all avoided Crusher as if he were infected with the plague. Jason had no choice but to endure the tirades, pouting, and thinly-veiled threats.

“This is bullshit!” Crusher burst out, staring out the canopy. “You know, you can’t physically force me to stay here.”

Jason’s patience finally snapped. “If you don’t sit down and shut up I’m going to override the safety locks and order the
Phoenix
to disable you,” he said calmly. “I’m not kidding.”

“You don’t have to get violent about it,” Crusher said, his feelings hurt. He went over to one of the sensor stations and sat down. “I still don’t understand why I’m stuck here.”

“Yes … you do,” Jason said wearily. “I’ve explained it four times now but you refuse to listen. This is Mazer’s mission and his Marines. You are still their Lord Archon, at least in their minds, and you would do nothing but undermine Captain Reddix during the operation. You’re a loose cannon to boot. You would not have followed orders, you would have preempted Mazer’s orders whenever you felt like it, and generally been a complete pain in the ass while they tried to sort their way through their first real mission.”

“Most of those character flaws could be attributed to you as well,” Crusher said accusingly.

“Which is why we’re such good friends,” Jason said blandly. In spite of himself, a choked-off, snorting laugh escaped Crusher’s lips. The tension broken, Crusher leaned back and stared out the canopy again.

“You’re sure the ship can handle this?”

“Twingo assures me it won’t be an issue,” Jason said. “But I’ll admit it is a bit unnerving.”

“I’ll say. Whose idea was it—” Crusher was cut off by the com panel chirping.

“
This is Strike One. Mission objective is secure. We’re rallying to a defensible position. Clear for pickup.
”

“Omega One copies,” Jason said. “We’re on our way.” He began bringing all the ship’s systems out of standby before hitting the intercom. “Twingo, we’re ready to get out of here. I want you up on the bridge helping me get the ship out of this muck.”

“
On my way
,” the engineer’s voice came back. “
Is Crusher still up there?”

“Just get up here! You too, Kage,” Jason said before jabbing the intercom off, shaking his head. The pair came jogging onto the bridge a moment later and went straight to their stations.

“Let’s go ahead and decouple the anchor lines,” Twingo said. “We’ll need to be on the surface to begin engine start anyway. I’ll go ahead and get the reactor up to full power; it shouldn’t take long.” Jason reached over and pushed the red flashing icon on his multi-function display. Immediately after there were a series of pops and snaps throughout the ship and the bridge pitched up as the
Phoenix
rocked back and forth.

The gunship had been submerged one hundred feet below the surface of an enormous fresh water lake near the capital of Olem, the city where thirty-seven Galvetic Marines and one battlesynth were currently fighting. Since the ship was filled with air and wouldn’t submerge completely on its own, Twingo had devised a system of cable anchors that were fired into the lake bed and allowed them to winch the ship below the surface and keep it there. He assured them that the hull could handle the pressure and the few days of being in water wouldn’t have any adverse effect on any of their systems.

Jason chose to believe his engineer, but there was still something unnatural about landing his ship in water and then remaining onboard while it was dragged under like a submarine. The tension of being underneath the water hadn’t helped the mood on the ship as Crusher sulked and made a general nuisance of himself.

The ship began to accelerate towards the surface, her nose rising faster than the tail, and Jason grabbed the “oh shit” handles on either side of his seat in preparation. When the nose breached the calm waters of the lake, everyone onboard was tossed up out of their seats a few inches at the sudden deceleration. A few seconds later and the big gunship sat partially visible in the lake, bobbing like some enormous sea monster. The water line came partially up the canopy and they were still oriented slightly nose up, which meant the engines were still completely underwater.

“Okay, Captain,” Twingo said. “We’re prepped for a quick start on the engines. Go ahead and get us out of the water on repulsors and I’ll begin the sequence as soon as we’re clear.”

“Can’t you start the engines while they’re submerged?” Crusher asked.

“I’d prefer not to,” Twingo answered. “In theory it shouldn’t be an issue, but why invite trouble?”

“Firing ventral repulsors,” Jason said, flicking the power up with a rocker-type switch located on his throttle. The ship shook violently as the repulsors pushed against the water. They leveled out and were suddenly engulfed in a thick fog as the ultrasonic frequencies from the repulsors vaporized the lake water instantaneously. When his indicators said they were a few feet above the water surface, he increased the power and brought the ship to a steady hover about a hundred feet above the lake.

“Engines coming up,” Twingo said. “We’ll have grav-drive in sixty seconds. Captain, go ahead and kick on the pre-heaters on the mains to dry out the plasma ducts and the thrust nozzles.”

“Gotcha,” Jason said and flicked the switch to bring the mains to standby, priming the fuel system and engaging the pre-heaters to dry the motors out. “Pre-heat is on.”

“Thanks,” Twingo said distractedly. “If we have to make orbit quickly I don’t want ice forming up in the injectors or the constrictor rings.” Jason felt the ship rock and shudder as the emitters for the grav-drive began to come and the repulsors pulled against their effect. A few seconds later he could hear the repulsors automatically throttling back as the gravimetric drive took up the ship’s weight. “Drive is online,” Twingo reported. “You’re clear to begin maneuvering.”

“Let’s go pick up our crew,” Jason said, pushing the throttle up. “Kage, start bringing the weapons online and get in touch with the strike team. We need to know the situation. I specifically want to know if they’ll need any air support and if they have any wounded.” From the time they received the call to the time they were underway, less than five minutes had elapsed.

****

“Bravo squad is accounted for!” Mazer’s second in command shouted over the din of the pitched battle. “Charlie is coming up the stairwell at the east end of the building, but they’re running into heavy resistance.”

“Can we move to help them?” Mazer asked.

“Our only way out is through the blast doors,” the lieutenant said. “We’d have to fight our way to them.”

Mazer sighed. Things had spiraled out of control quickly. The moment Bravo squad had withdrawn, the security forces had rallied and began to press the attack against both the retreating Marines and Alpha squad, which was currently entrenched behind the heavy blast doors the warlord Rorid had hidden behind.

“Get me a channel to Charlie squad,” Mazer said. His com chirped twice to let him know he had a direct line to the commander of the pinned-down squad. “This is Captain Reddix. We’re going to coordinate our efforts to eliminate all enemy combatants on this floor so we can extract the package safely. I want you to hold fast. Set up a defensive position where you are.”

“
Sir
,” the sergeant leading Charlie squad said. “
We’re not in a defensible position. If we stop now we’ll be trapped between floors in a narrow stairwell
.”

“Not for long,” Mazer explained. “Alpha and Bravo squads are going to push to you. We’ll drive everyone on this floor towards you and then they’ll be forced to fight us on both fronts.”

“
Acknowledged. We’ll be waiting for your signal
.”

Mazer was painfully aware he’d put Charlie squad in a perilous position and if he didn’t act quickly he’d be responsible when they were overrun in the tight confines of the maintenance stairwell. “Lucky! I need you and five volunteers to remain here and keep Rorid alive. Alpha and Bravo, form up at the doors. Phalanx formation, Alpha right, Bravo left … we’re going to press the attack and push the remaining security forces back so Charlie can engage them from the rear. This has to be done quickly, Charlie is trapped and evac is on the way. Let’s move!”

With Lucky and five of the Marines taking Rorid into one of the back rooms to secure him, the remaining twenty-one warriors formed up near the doors into a wedge formation. They would provide a smaller target while increasing their coverage with overlapping fields of fire. Mazer strode over to the control panel and released the lock on the door and then stepped back into his spot at the head of the formation. As expected, the setaras had been continually trying to override the lock and the doors began to swing open a few seconds after Mazer had unlocked them.

The first wave of security troops that tried to force their way past the opening doors were mowed down almost instantly. This caused the reinforcements behind them to hesitate slightly. A savage battle cry went up from the Marines behind the door, loud enough to shake the walls. The line of setaras faltered and a few began to back away despite the shrill commands from their superiors. When the first Galvetic warriors burst through the gap in the doors and began laying down withering fire, the line broke completely and setaras began running in all directions, trying desperately to escape the nightmarish creatures that were boiling out into the hallway.

At the first sign of weakened resolve from the setara troops, the Marines, now almost in a frenzy, broke into a full charge. All twenty-one warriors were wantonly slaughtering the fleeing troops, concentrating their rage on any who dared to try and stand their ground and return fire. The result of the mad dash was that they reached the east staircase with only a few minor injuries as they herded the setaras towards Charlie squad. Mazer didn’t have to give a signal as the sounds of fighting prompted Charlie to begin advancing again, pushing the few defenders above them into the chaos.

The two retreating groups collided with each other in the antechamber right off the stairwell. The resultant delay caused by both groups giving rushed explanations as well as trying to push through each other in order to retreat allowed the Marines to surround them. Mazer quickly reasserted control since the quarters had now become very cramped and he wanted to avoid friendly fire casualties during his first live mission.

“Charlie squad!” he bellowed in his native language. “Remain in the stairwell; do not let them retreat any further! Alpha squad, rearguard! Bravo, eliminate the remaining threat!” Bravo moved past Alpha and began to systematically neutralize the remaining security troopers. The setaras, now backed against the wall, lashed out in one desperate last effort. While a few Marines went down with severe plasma burns as their armor took full shots at close range, the result was all but inevitable. In less than thirty seconds Bravo was able to advance completely into the room and fully secure the top floor of the palace.

“Platoon! Muster in the atrium,” Mazer called out as Charlie squad emerged from the stairwell, their sergeant throwing a grenade down between the rails with a negligent toss over his shoulder, a gift to the few troops who seemed to be undecided whether to retreat or advance. Mazer’s command had also gone over the platoon’s open com channel so by the time they reached the atrium Lucky was already there with the remaining five Marines and their captive. Mazer knew that Omega Force typically didn’t employ a scorched earth method on this type of mission and he wasn’t sure if the battlesynth fully approved of his tactics and methods, especially regarding herding all the setaras into an enclosed space and slaughtering them. The battlesynth’s face was, as always, an impassive mask.

“The
Phoenix
is two minutes out,” Lucky said after seeing they were all accounted for. “I have notified the captain that we have wounded.” Mazer nodded, looking at the four Marines who had suffered serious enough injuries that they had to be carried. The young commander hoped his luck would hold out and they could get aboard the gunship and away without losing any Marines or their captive.