Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (46 page)

“Sir, enemy fighters strafing forward pulse laser turret. Turret destroyed. Breaching pods on approach.”

“Navigator, random thruster fire. Keep her bouncing. Let’s not make it easy. Chief Brold, Corporal Smith, prepare to repel boarders.”

Aliens consider humans an aggressive, militant species. Most aliens consider the Colonial Marines, one-on-one, among the most dangerous of combatants. The only species more greatly feared, not only for its advanced technology, but also for size, strength and sheer ferocity, is the Coregar or Gar-Crax.

A most unusual sight, Specialist Club sprinting. Her stocky frame carried her and her equipment with ease. Before entering Security she examined the door, and plucked something from the frame.

“Move over, Keesay. Company’s knocking.” She slid into the rolling chair and took command of the consoles. “Here,” she tossed.

I caught two items. The first, a miniature computer clip. The second, a thumb-sized, clay-like substance. It wasn’t C4 or a familiar explosive.

“Insert the clip electrodes,” she said. “Push in the three side buttons simultaneously. Standard timing, 4.5 seconds and you’ll have a nice blast.” She re-sequenced the monitor displays. “Chief, ready to go,” she said into her collar. “Keesay, your job is to make sure anyone who approaches Security who ain’t human doesn’t get in.”

She reached into a thigh pocket. “Before you post yourself outside,” she said, tossing a slim box to Watts, “a CNS modulator.” She followed with a small baton. “This will attune it to his nervous system. Just follow the instructions.”

Lori Watts went right to work. The oblong, leaf-shaped device felt smooth to the skin. Watts slid the CNS modulator inside my uniform collar, and affixed it just below the neck. Its cool touch extended halfway down my spine. “It’ll hurt when it gets peeled off,” Lori said.

“Good to know,” I said, watching Club at the screens.

Club pointed. “You, Michael Watts. Sit and monitor those two screens. Let me know immediately, yell, in fact, if you see any non-human.” Michael hopped to it.

“Instructor Watts, as soon as you’re finished, assist me. Chief Brold says you’re familiar with the system.” She might’ve been skeptical, but the chief’s word squelched question.

“Okay, Keesay,” said Watts. “If you notice a sharp pain along your spine, described as being similar to burning needles, remove the device immediately.”

“How?”

She took my right hand and directed it over my shoulder. “Tug here. Pinch for three seconds and it will release. Painful, like I said.”

“Understood. I’ve experienced Stegmar Mantis sounding. Anything that’ll help.” I carefully fitted my riot helmet before dropping the visor and testing my com-set. I grabbed my satchel of ammo and my shotgun. “Specialist Club. I’m going to retrieve a riot shield and equipment from my cart down the hall.”

She nodded. “I saw it. You’ll need the stuff. Thirty seconds.”

“Acknowledged.” I ran, and retrieved my collapsed shield, slid it over my left shoulder, slid a few more shells in my pockets, and grabbed my plasticized breast, arm and leg armor. Probably useless against Crax caustic rounds, but maybe not against the Stegmar Mantis weaponry.

“Keesay,” called Club. “All clear. They haven’t boarded yet. Suit up.”

I needed access to my coverall pockets, so I unbuttoned and strapped the body plates under my vest and uniform. It was a snug fit. Never can have too much, I thought, if it doesn’t hinder mobility. I strapped on the shin, calf and thigh shields.
Thunk
! Something stuck the hull. I strapped on the right forearm plating and set the rest aside. I adjusted my com-set to prioritize, Command primary and Security secondary frequency.

“...losing command contr...bot attached.” It sounded like Gudkov. “Other...imity. Det...cutti...arm... Losi...deto...” Two blasts reverberated near the hull.

The door opened behind me. “They’re jamming all frequencies. Our system upgrade was supposed to handle it.” Club worked frantically. “Cameras are still up. Mer insisted on running lines. No audio. No send and receive.”

“The marines’ equipment should be.” I switched to their frequency exclusively. “I’m receiving Corporal Smith.”

“In here, Keesay.” I ran to Club and pulled my headset. She took it. “Club, Alpha Alpha Mars, breaching pod aft destroyed. Ventral pod knocked away, damaged but maneuvering to re-attach. Portside forward pod attached, just aft of engineering.” She examined her monitors. “Squad 2, 3, 8 to forward engineering. Squad 1, 5, 9 to shuttle bay.”

I unclipped my com-set and attached it to Club as she continued to survey the situation. Watts assisted. Fighting broke out near engineering. DeLark led two dozen colonists against a wave of Stegmar Mantis. The 30-inch high insectoid aliens advanced at a heavy cost.

Then a large reptilian biped leapt through the hull breach. It was mottled green and resembled a prehistoric predator, except it carried a halberd with nasty hooked blades. A second and third followed. “Gar-Crax trio with shields,” called Club, “accompanying Stegmar boarders near forward engineering.” The Gar-Crax, like the Stegmar, carried equipment on belts, harnesses, and bandoleers. The Crax leveled their halberds and sprayed the defenders. The assault weapons’ return fire failed to penetrate the shields. The defenders fell screaming beneath the caustic pellet barrage.

“Squad 4 and 6 fall back.” Club tapped and a bulkhead dropped, providing temporary respite. “Smith, get heavy-duty lasers to forward engineering.”

The Crax halberds sliced through the door. “Estimate seventy Stegmar, ten Bulldog Beetles, supported by three Gar-Crax.”
Thunk
! “Pod reattach aft of shuttle bay.”

“Specialist Club,” said Watts. “Two Primus-launched pods on approach. Gunboats moving to intercept Primus escort. Several flotillas of pods approaching dock.”

“Acknowledged.” She dropped another door to shield DeLark and his half dozen survivors. “Stegmar scattering into groups of five.” The ship lurched. “Captain’s making evasive maneuvers.”

“She just fired rear batteries. Two missiles,” called Watts. “Gunboats closing on Primus frigate, opening fire.” The
Kalavar
shuddered. “Primus firing on us. I think the main battery is out. Primary engine failing.”

Michael was huddled in the corner. “Skids!” I ordered. “Remember what I said?” He nodded. “Specialist Club directed you to watch those two monitors. Perform your duty.”

He blushed and pulled himself to his feet. “Sorry.”

Chief Brold led a counter assault near engineering. Hefting a large shielding steel hatch and carrying a long pole, he charged ahead. Behind him, two marines fired heavy laser carbines wherever they found an opening.

“The chief’s got his Umbelgarri stabbing pike,” said Club. “Goes with the armor.”

“Looks like a medieval knight,” said Watts.

“More like a Crax nightmare,” I said, before another monitor picked up a sprinting man in gray-green coveralls. “Here comes Haxon.” He pulled up outside Security, almost losing his Marine helmet. “All clear.”

Club keyed the door open while reporting, “All weapons out. Engines out. Forward momentum and thrusters only. Two more pods on approach. Primus escort light damage.
Calling Thunder
destroyed.
Thunder Child
pressing attack. Shuttle bay under attack. Advance on forward engineering repulsed. Stegmar Mantis raiding parties on forward decks 3, 5 and 11.”

“Keesay,” said Haxon, catching his breath. “We’re to get those two to the shuttle bay. Reinforcements have been sent to hold the bay. We’ve two shuttles manned and ready for launch.”

“What? With that Primus escort out there?”

“Main engine’s dead, even if we repel this wave. Captain’s orders. Two yachts for decoys and something else planned.”

“Understood.” I checked my shotgun and gear.

Haxon produced three disposable injection packets. “To neutralize Stegmar Mantis toxins.” He injected me first, Lori Watts second. He carefully administered Michael a half dose. “There. Chief said not to put our eggs in one basket. You take one. I’ll escort the other.”

“Did you catch that, Club?” I asked.

She held up a finger. “Thrusters, ten percent burn. Not fast enough for them to target, but get the nose lined up with the frigate.” She spun. “I got it, Keesay. Orders confirmed. If you get cut off or the shuttle bay falls, Plan B, go for the cargo bay. McAllister and Gudkov are prepping the bay for emergency decompression. The exploration shuttle has a cascading engine cycling.”

My eyes locked with Lori’s. She embraced her son tighter. “Skids, you’re with me.”

She unclipped the Crax screen.

“No.” I shoved it back. “You can utilize it best.” I unfolded my riot shield. “He’ll carry this.”

“You sure?” asked Haxon.

I removed Haxon’s helmet and adjusted the straps. “You’re with intelligence.”

“What?” asked Haxon. He donned his helmet and looked away. “Specialist, time to move.”

“Right.” I eyed Watts and slipped on my helmet. “Same R-Tech rigging. What sec-spec wouldn’t know how to adjust it? You’ll need the screen.” I’d gotten used to checking with my com-set’s ocular but Club needed it to relay information. “How’s it look, Club?”

“They’re shooting out cameras wherever they spot them. Bugs are crawling everywhere. Mainly in twos and threes.”

“Keesay, you go portside route,” said Haxon. “We’ll go aft.”

“Understood.” I tugged Skids away from his mother. “Michael! Time to move.”

“Kra’s right.” She grabbed her laser carbine and checked her shield. “I love you, Little Max.”

I pulled my stun baton, handed it to him with the shield. “I’ll need both hands for my shotgun. Be careful, that tip will send a charge through anything you touch, including me or yourself.” I showed him how to telescope the baton in and out. “Arm it only when you intend to use it.” I adjusted the shield straps. “Grip it here. Cradle behind it like this. Understood?” He didn’t respond. “Understood?”

“I want to go with Mom!” Tears welled in his eyes. His mother was little better off.

I eyed Haxon, then put my hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Duty, remember? Do what I do. Do what I say, when I say. Now form up!” He stood straight. “We’ll make it,” I said to Lori. “Be sure you do.”

“Get a move on!” ordered Club.

“Always the charmer.” I winked and shot a glance to her heavy duty laser. “Happy hunting.”

“Thanks, Relic.” She winked back. “All clear.” The door slid open. “Now, MOVE OUT!”

The shouted order jarred Watts and her son into action. Lori and Haxon went right. I stepped out and pulled Skids left. “Trot.”

We made it to the first intersection. He dropped my shield and stopped. I swung back and pushed him from behind through the intersection. Kicked the shield to him. “Skids, I have my orders. I’ll drag, or carry you.”

In the distance I heard an eerie sound. It wasn’t as bad as the simulation. “Those are Stegmar Mantis.” It got
Skids’ attention. He picked up the shield and clutched the baton. “Skids, I’m scared, too. If we weren’t, we’d be foolish. This way. Ignore the sound. Stay right behind me and keep your eyes open.”

“Understood, Specialist,” he said through gritted teeth.

We made it to an access ladder. I listened. Stegmar predatory sounding, but distant. Shotgun ready, I looked up and down. “Let’s go.” He nodded. I descended first. Skids followed. Two decks down the sounding grew. “I stuck my head out. “Quick,” I whispered. The volume increased from below. Small arms fire blended with yells and screams.

I increased the pace, checking occasionally over my shoulder. We came to an intersection and found a passenger, partially dismembered. “Don’t look, Skids.” Fallen next to him was the old dog trainer, still clutching his assault rifle. Body swollen with venom. I felt for a pulse. None.

“Specialist, look,” Skids said. A lacerated bulldog whimpered twenty feet away. A foreleg dangled as it hobbled toward its fallen master. Green blood was splattered across the canine’s face and jaws. Three large welts lined its back.

The dog ignored us in its trek. I led Skids wide around. “Beetle toxin. It wants to die with its master, in peace.” I urged Skids along, trotting past two fallen Stegmar. One bullet ridden, the other mauled. “Old man and his dog cleared the way.”

We made it to the next access ladder. Hearing nothing, I looked down just as a Stegmar leapt onto the ladder two decks below.
Blam
! No way I missed. I pumped a fresh round into the chamber and I grabbed Skids. “Come on.” A sounding stirred from behind. We turned at an intersection before they emerged from the tube. The sounding tore at Skid’s nerves but my modulator held it at bay. I tossed Skids over my shoulder and ran to an elevator around the next turn. I flopped him down, stood ready, and tapped the call button.

A five-second eternity passed before the elevator arrived, empty. “This won’t lead to the shuttle bay, but to an observation balcony. There’s an access ladder down. Can you climb?”

The elevator door blocked the sounding. Skids nodded.

“You’re a tough kid.”

He looked down. “I wet my pants.”

“Marines have been known to do that.”

“Really?”

“Seen it in simulations,” I lied.

“Did you?”

“Naw
w, I’m a Relic, remember?” He smiled. “Get ready!” I said.