Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked (30 page)

“Captain Lord,” Salchar said, looking to Foshunti before doing something on a side screen around his chair.

“You've landed forces not only on the second fleet but my own. I was wondering why? And if this succeeds it's just Captain,” Foshunti said.

“Very well, Captain. I'm getting myself some peace of mind. You've kept to your side thus far. Now with my Commandos aboard your ships they can make sure that nothing bites us in the ass, at least until we take the remainder of your fleet. Have your people move to their own quarters, except those that you need to carry out operations on your ship,” Salchar said.

Foshunti knew he was being tested. This man was clearly not on the side of the Syndicate, he'd given him the half of the fleet that was loyal to Lady Fairgate and he'd descended on them like a wrathful force.

I wonder where he kept those fighters hidden.
Foshunti thought as he nodded.

“Very well. You have proved that you can be trusted. I will do as you say,”

“Thank you, Captain. Hopefully, sometime soon we can have a talk face to face,”

“Indeed,” Foshunti said as Salchar cut the channel.

“Maloti, make sure that the Commander's orders are carried out,” Foshunti said.

“He is boarding our ships, it is an affront to us,” Wasta said, his voice deadly.

“We have a bare trust with them. These measures will go to cement that trust. While you might be Prime on your planet remember who commands this fleet,” Foshunti said.

“For how long? He will take it from you,” Wasta said, indicating Salchar.

“So what if he does, if it will finish this war?” Foshunti said. If Salchar proved himself, he was given the authority on behalf of the Dovark people, to assist Salchar in any way possible. That included telling him about resources that not even Wasta knew about.

“It is dishonorable,” Wasta said, his neck fluttering again.

“Keep this talk up and I will take you up on that fight you wanted,” Foshunti said, his voice cold as Wasta looked to him in alarm. He looked away quickly as Foshunti's cold eyes stared into his own. Foshunti had kept the last statement so quiet that no one other than Wasta could hear.

The Dashuna had the wisdom to not comment, his anger quickly cooling.

It's more like a damn nursery than a fleet,
Foshunti thought, shaking his head at the ridiculous issues he had dealt with.

***

Santos waited as the Commando techie broke into the airlock's controls, the doors opened and people piled in. The temporary electrostatic field emitters came to life, allowing the airlock to open fully without losing air. Commandos thumped down into gravity filled hallways, and for once Santos didn't hear the cries of incoming fire, or see the enemy, or here the reports of weapons fire as he crossed through the electro-static field.

Instead he got a report coming in through all bands on the internal comms of the Talhalla. He opened it in an offline portion of his operating system, just in case it was a virus. It listed all of the personnel on the ship as well as their location. Ninety percent were in their quarters, he saw and he pulled up the names of the two platoon leaders with him.

“Check and verify this list,” he ordered as he received an incoming message from another Commando group on another one of Foshunti's loyal ships.

“Sir, I've just got a message detailing all of the positions of the crew. What am I to do?”

Roughly translated to mean 'should I rip walls apart for cover'.

“Check that the list is valid. Stay alert,” Santos said as he changed to his leadership net.

“Report in if you have been given a list. If you have, check the ships as planned to confirm it. Be respectful, but if anything happens, put it down hard,” Santos said. It seemed most of his people had gotten a list by the number of green lights flashing on the left side of his helmet. He contacted Vort. In Sook was probably too busy coordinating shuttles and fighters.

“Commander Santos?”

“Vort, pass this on. Foshunti's loyal forces have given us lists of his people's positions. We're checking to see that they’re valid, I will report back when we have ships cleared. Also, can you tell me if any of the ships have jamming going on?”

Santos waited just moments.

“No. Not these ships. Only the second fleet has jammers blocking the Commandos there,” Vort said.

“Thanks.”

Santos cut the channel and opened his visor, chucking a piece of gum into his mouth and chewing. The stuff seemed to calm him as he moved through the halls behind the first group. He had the feeling he wasn't going to run into any issues. Still, they checked every corner, quickly moving to the bridge that was buried deep in Talhalla's systems. He felt the need to rush, to clear the ship and post his people in secured and vital positions. He knew that Bok Soo was definitely not having such an easy time.

Santos checked with his commanders again. None of them were having issues, and there was still no jamming, which showed him something.

“Slow and steady Commandos. We rush this and we won't be any use to Bok Soo,” he said as he saw his own people speeding up and taking more risks.

***

“Incoming!” The Commando in front of Bok Soo said as plasma scorched where they had been.

              Bok Soo twirled his plasma shotguns, racking a round with their lever action. He was on one of the second Fleet’s Dreadnoughts and moving was hell. He had a full blueprint of the corridors, but he had no idea what was in the walls before he ordered some techies to open them up. They had run into environmental systems, optical wire bundles and a plasma conduit. Thankfully, safety systems had come online. Unfortunately, three Commandos had died as a result. His people were hacking stations to get Intel, but it was slow going and they were still largely bogged down.

He shifted next to the wall from which the Syndicate forces were firing, putting his gun around the side, putting rounds into his enemy at point-blank range.

His gun clicked empty, he reloaded by reflex and ran for the other side of the corridor.

“You two!” He pointed to a beader crew. “You hold it, you fire and help them,” Bok Soo said as the team got close to the wall he had come from. They braced and fired the beader. They could only fire in short bursts or be pushed backwards.

“Now, move it, Commandos!” Bok Soo said as his people used the covering fire to cross the corridor.

Taking a ship meant taking vital positions faster than the enemy could reinforce them. He checked his plasma shot guns. They were his favorite damn toy. He had got them from a Commando turned weapon smith on Parnmal. He tapped the battle axe that rested across his back.

“You better be sending some good ole fashioned luck this way Henry,” he said to himself, hearing shooting as the Commandos smashed into another enemy group.

Nearly at the friggin engineering,
he sighed, chewing on his gum as he looked at his display. The Syndicate jammers were crap, but there was still enough of the damned things that they were making communicating through the ship an issue. Outside the ships was impossible. A Commando got winged as they turned a corner, but his buddy jumped to the other side, grabbing him and hauling him out of the line of fire. A Chaleelian by his armour, mostly the elongated helmet for their snout, fired at where the rounds had come from.

“Grenades?” he asked over the close area radio.

“Fuck it, it's a Dreadnought. She can take it. None in engineering, though. And no one tells Resilient or Eddie I said a god damn thing!” he warned, sure that got a few unseen grins. Plasma grenades went off and as the Chaleelian swung the corner, a Sarenmenti and Kuruvian followed to assist.

“Clear to the door. We're at engineering, need a techie,” the Chaleelian said.

One scampered from the rear.

“How you doing, Commando?” Bok Soo asked the trooper that had been winged.

“Been better,” a female Sarenmenti grunted.

“Rest up and get some hell fire into you. You stay here and keep a watch, follow us as we clear,” Bok Soo said, the last for her buddy that had saved her.

“Shotgun or charge,” the techie announced.

No one appeared to have a shotgun.

“Alright, I'll blast the bloody thing down. You four, continue around and link up with Commander Banelish's squad,” Bok Soo said, indicating the four at the rear he wanted to go.

He moved up to the group that were covering the techie.

“Ready boys and girls?”

He held his shotguns out at the pair of bolts on the double doors. He shot the top ones, cycling the shotguns around as he lowered his hands and stuck two more balls of plasma into the lower bolts. He cycled his guns again as he kicked the doors with all of his might. They went flying, hitting and killing the gun crew that had set up too close to the door. Bok Soo charged in. His left leg still on full power launched him up and into the rafters of the cavernous engineering hub. He put one shotgun in its holster as he grabbed something sturdy looking.

He looked down on the amazed gun crews, which were doing their best to face in three different directions. He fired at the closest, the Plasma burning into the unarmoured Syndicates. It seemed that Salchar and Foshunti's surprise hadn't given them enough time to even get their mechas on. He cycled the shotgun, his ammo counter going down until he hit empty. He dropped toward the floor, grabbing his other one as he released the mag on the shotgun and smacked it into the waiting mag on his leg. With one flick of his wrist it was reloaded, he continued around a corner towards the gun team that was still standing. He heard the reports of rail guns as indicators in his mecha halted his progress. He pulled back, covering outwards. Moments later a barrel was pointed at his visor.

“Best to lower that,” Bok Soo said, sounding slightly amused as the Chaleelian did so.

“Sorry, sir,”

“No problem. At least you assessed the situation before shooting. Otherwise I'd be having quite a few issues.” He pointed to the Kuruvian. “Go help the wounded Commando out there would ya? The rest of you, let's secure this position. There will be a squad here in two. You lot will be staying here as they advance through you and on to the next objective.”               These people had been going hard since entry. It wasn't far, but close quarters fighting was damned tiring. He was the CAMC, so being tired was an impossibility. He opened his visor, spitting his now flavorless gum and putting in another piece.
God that smells like shit
, he thought, closing his visor as the air recycler went to work getting rid of the smell of burnt metals, plastics—and charred flesh.

***

“Captain Lord Foshunti, what should we do?” a panicked captain on one of the second fleet said.

“Fight them you useless bastard. I'm fighting my own attackers. Their fleet will be upon us in minutes. If you are not ready I will hold you personally to blame for all of this and make you dance for my own delight,” Foshunti said, a sadistic smile coming across his face as his eyes fluttered in excitement.

“Yes, my Captain Lord, we will repel them!” the Captain said, now eager not to talk to his Captain Lord as he had been before.

“Looks like your boarding my ships has actually lent credence to me being attacked,” Foshunti said, studying his screens. Santos stood to the side of him, just out of view of the visual pick up. Santos didn't say much to Foshunti. Though from his signal emissions he was quite connected to his troops. Who were as every bit as terrifying and good as Foshunti had been told. They were real troops. They might have a few flairs and extras, but they used them to great effect.

“Thank you, sir,” Santos said, his tone showing that he clearly didn't care for Foshunti's praise. The man wanted clearly to be in the fight. A thought that Syndicates would find ridiculous.

“We have missile launch,” a sensor tech said as Foshunti watched missiles raining down on the already softened second fleet.

The ships that hadn't been boarded were now getting pummeled by Salchar's fleet. Cannons fired, concentrating on one area, then another, not moving on until they had destroyed their target. The second fleet tried to fight back, but they were failing. Cruisers were the first to go. Foshunti couldn't keep a hint of a grin off of his face as they cracked open into massive fireballs, their missile armament adding to the inferno.

Corvettes used their superior maneuvering to twist and dive, trying to shake the incoming fire and throw off the gunner’s aim from the devastating cannons. But the batteries adjusted, firing in the general area, bracketing the ships. Their weakened or non-existent shields gave them little protection and many missiles made it through the attempts to take them down.

Destroyers and the Dreadnought that hadn't been boarded fared the best. All of the Cruisers had fired their missiles, sending the majority right into the throats of the Dreadnought. The Dreadnought put up a fight, but mutual PDS support was forgotten as ship’s captain’s tried to save their own ships instead of fighting beside their comrades.

Two hundred missiles hit the weakened shields, they turned black, trying to blunt the  incoming energy, holding for only a few seconds before power relays were overpowered and it collapsed.