Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked (31 page)

The missiles were like tigers on a weakened prey. They smashed in from every direction, ripping apart the Dreadnought. It absorbed three hits, speaking to the strength of its armour and then the fourth piled into a hole created by the previous missiles. The Dreadnought seemed to be picked up as if by the hand of God as plating and openings in the armour, such as weapon mounts, sprouted fire and the ship split open. Fires raged in its hull as things inside burned on the remaining oxygen or blew up as their containment was broken. It hadn't been completely powerless in its death. It had fired as many missiles as it could. The Second Fleet were also adding in their missiles as well.

The Free Fleet had co-ordination in their PDS.

“The hell is that?” Foshunti asked as the six hundred missiles that were rising were being hammered into nothing.

“A new PDS system. Its drastically more effective,” Shova in Sensors said as his people coaxed information from their arrays.

Fatal mistake,
Foshunti thought as the Battle Cruisers which had been modified into carriers were in the center of the Free Fleet formation. The Fleet was organized in a pyramid formation as it had been before. PDS fire was split up between everyone, the weapons and the tactics made the protective fire damned impressive. It took out hundreds before they even got close to the fleet, but there wasn't enough room to give them time to take out all of them. Resilient, the other Dreadnought's and the Battle-Carriers took the missiles that made it through the fire.

The Dreadnought's shrugged off the barrage, their shields fully charged and much stronger than anything the second fleet had available. The Battle-Carrier's shields held for longer that Foshunti guessed but they fell eventually. Then panels of the Carriers started exploding as missiles blew up as well. Foshunti watched as the Battle-carriers were consumed in a halo of missiles exploding away from them. The missiles stayed at bay long enough for the Carrier to bring its shields back online, stopping the last few dead in their tracks. Foshunti tried to hide his amazement. Whatever systems those Battle-Carriers had was damned impressive and tactically a godsend. Having Carriers that were able to be on the front lines meant shorter time for fighters to get refueled and armed, it meant that less ships had to worry about protecting it.

The Carriers turned, presenting their heavily armoured spine to the second fleet as more ships started firing at them. Those ships were quickly set upon by the group surrounding the Battle-Carriers. The Free Fleet turned, powering away on an angle. The ships that hadn't been landed on, were destroyed, or heavily damaged The second fleet seemed to have run out of missiles, their Cruisers had been of little assistance as they turned into nothing but useless fireballs.

“Still think you would've beaten them wholesale?” Planner asked through Foshunti's implants.

“It would have been an interesting fight,” Foshunti said, as Planner left the channel.

He looked to his screens. There were Commandos at every power plant and major console that controlled something vital to the ship. It was up to these people's friends and compatriots to take the rest of the second Fleet.

He just hoped it was soon.

***

Connolly was in one of the Battle Cruisers, and he had finally reached the gunnery decks. The door kicker took the door as his people filed in. The deck was alive with people working their cannon mounts and the internals of the cannon moving as they fired. Someone noticed the Commandos as Connolly used his speakers.

“Step away from the weapons mounts and lie down and you won't be harmed,” He bellowed as the deck seemed to turn to him as one.

Shots rang out against the bulkhead behind Connolly, a few rounds hitting his armour and bouncing off as he dove for cover. The Commando's portable cannons bellowed as Connolly got up behind a stack of heat sinks. The entire deck seemed to be charging his people, none of them wearing anything like conventional armour as they fired a host of different weapons. It looked like a riot with fireworks more than anything else.

Cannons shifted fire, raking the forward lines as people disappeared. Connolly saw a Syndicate prepping a grenade, and his rounds found the man, the grenade rolling from his hand and exploding in a similar pile of used heat sinks to the ones Connolly had sheltered behind, but these ones were used and fragile. The superheated coolant and debris ripped through the charging Syndicates. The coolant was heated to the point that it acted more like plasma. The rest didn't know they were already dead as the cannons finished them off. Connolly looked at the destruction, his stomach churning at the sight.

“Seal the doors and we'll move to assist Commander Yasu,” Connolly said. A few Commandos not having Connolly's self-control were discarding their meals. The lucky ones got their visors open in time, only to smell the gunnery deck. Connolly had them removed as the more veteran units that had seen the massacred bodies in Parnmal and other battlefields quickly sealed the doors and hurried back out of the deck. Connolly reached Yasu as she turned around from reaming out her people.

“I told you to keep your damned heads in!” Yasu barked, the person that had poked their head out having the misfortune of not pulling it back quick enough.

They advanced to the bridge and found that it was secured with multiple gunner teams and plating that stopped any grenades from getting to them.

“Connolly!” she barked.

“Ma'am?” he said, slightly nervous as he came face to face with the woman that had been in charge of training him and thousands of other Commandos. She was a damn force of nature like Salchar himself.

“I've got an entry point in through this here air-intake. I want you to get in there and take the enemy from behind.”

She gave him a minute to study the plans. The air-intake had been taken from a civilian ship and used for the bridge. It was wider than the original and didn't have the shut off that a military grade replacement would have.

“It's too small for a mecha,” he said, his knowledge from the yard coming in use.

“I know, you'll have to get creative,” she replied.

“Yes ma'am,” he said, cutting the channel and gathering his people before heading out.

It took three ladders and a service hatch to get to the air-intake.

“Alright. Pop 'em, Commando's. Looks like we're doing this old school,” he said, opening his mecha and freeing himself from it. He grabbed his railgun and a bandoleer of grenades, magazines, and a plasmid blade.

He took the blade and cut into the air vent his squad helped him with their plasmid weaponry. The air-intake was small for Connolly, the Sarenmenti's tails rubbed the roof, resulting in a bunch of complaining from them. The Kuruvians used their manipulators to scurry along quite easily. If any of the Avarians had claustrophobia Connolly felt sorry for them, their chests and backs hit the roof and floor, they could only move with their toes and fingers.

Connolly got to the opening that led into the bridge first.

“Alright, it narrows up ahead. If you won't fit, stop and get ready to make an entry hole and drop into the bridge,” Connolly said, using his implants as he could hear the noises they were all making. Too loud of a noise and the enemy would know they had more than rats in their vents.

Connolly pushed on, pulling out his plasmid blade which illuminated the vent. Better he didn't get far before it was too small for him to continue.

“Tell him I don't care if he doesn't have enough people! I need support here, we have those goddamn bastards at our doors!” someone was yelling.

“Do it,” Connolly said as he stabbed downwards into the air-vent metal. He dragged it down the sides to his shoulder on both sides. He cut ahead of him, the lip dangled down as he sheathed his blade and grabbed his railgun. He made sure it was on scatter shot.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he thought. As he shifted forward, his weight pushed the vent down.

“What was that?” the same voice from before said.

Come on!
Connolly thought as he kept moving onto the cut vent, but still nothing happened.

He kept going, and all of a sudden it swung down. Connolly had no time to stop as the cut open vent acted like a slide and he slid out of the vent and fell several feet, right onto the Captain. He was a slimy gelatinous creature, which nicely stopped Connolly's fall, Connolly's elbow connecting with something and knocking him unconscious.

“Connolly rolled and raised his rifle as his squad fell from the ceiling.

“Fuck!” One Avarian said, the creature under him squeaking as he landed on it

“Surrender and..,” Connolly said.

“Sweet lord of..
unnfrgh
,”

“...you won't..,”

“Fuck!” Connolly couldn't help but wince as a Damien landed on his plums.

“...be hurt,” Connolly finished, one Kuruvian tumbled down from the roof, crashing into the floor yelling obscenities.

The bridge crew looked at the Commandos.

“Put your manipulating limbs on your head, or in the air if you understand,” Connolly said.

The air vent broke as Dofo, the biggest Avarian in Connolly's squad fell straight to the ground. Connolly couldn't help but sigh. The entire bridge had their 'hands' up.

“Alright, round them up. Then we'll clear the doorway,” Connolly said. His squad moved to obey. Damien was dry heaving on the floor still.

It took a few minutes before the bridge crew was secured. Connolly lifted the jamming from the ship.

“This is Connolly. We've cleared the bridge,” he reported to Yasu.

“Good. I left two squads outside to hold the gun teams there. Here's the Commanders channel.” With that she cut their channel.

Connolly sent the commander a message to not fire as his people stacked on the bulkhead that led out of the bridge. It cycled open, revealing the backs of  twenty or so fighters. Those closest to the door turned to it, expressions of shock on their faces as they were face to face with Commandos, not their comrades.

One cannon loader got past the shock and swung at Connolly.

Connolly dropped his rifle his hands finding his blade as the creature was too close for him to use his rifle.

Connolly moved to the side, the attacker hacking the doorway past Connolly.

Connolly stabbed his attacker's neck twice, the man grabbed his neck and fell to the ground. One of the bulkhead defenders was turning with their weapon. Connolly dove as the Commando behind him put penetrators in them, gore exploding everywhere. Plasmid weaponry was out as it came down to hand to hand. Someone stabbed at Connolly's head. He rolled just in time, but the attacker kept coming, making him roll more and more.

His back hit something solid and the attacker moved, a look of triumph on his face. Connolly chucked his knife at the soldier’s optical nerves, and the man screamed as the plasma ate his face away. Connolly grabbed the crude sword his attacker had dropped, and he brought it up and changed directions, dragging it through another Commando's abdomen.

A commando was just too slow getting their blade out as a Syndicate trooper charged them. Connoly hurled his blade at them, making the trooper raise his arm against the blade. The Commando’s blade came free and across the would be attacker’s front, leaving a gash through it.

The Trooper seemed to look at their wounds in confusion as their legs went out from under them.

Connolly looked for more attackers, but his Commandos had done a good job. The squad medic was already going through the wounded and dead. Connolly lost three people. He looked away, anger filling him.

“You three give me a hand,” he said, pointing to Dofo and two of his fellow Avarians. Connolly braced a wall, the other three adding their shoulders too.

“One, two threee,” he grunted, and the wall shifted, seeming to pause for a second before it toppled.

“Move up, Commandos,” Connolly yelled, making sure they could see his spattered white and black.

“Commander, you're going to want to see this,” one of his squad members said from the bridge.

Connolly jogged back, grabbing his rail gun. On the main plot there was a fourth formation emerging from jump.

“Fuck,” Connolly said.

****

Captain Poshu looked at the mess that was Captain Lord Foshunti's fleet and the Free Fleet's. He was three hours flight time from them. He rubbed his hands together, letting out a small hoot of victory. He been expecting to be add his forces to a triumphant Foshunti, now it looked like he would be saving him, which always meant more bounty. Plus, aiding Lady Fairgate would make him look good in her eyes, while Foshunti's status would fall. He had taken the majority of Rosho Station with him. He only had two Dreadnought's and seven Battle Cruisers, but he had fifteen Destroyers, thirty five Cruisers and eighty nine Corvettes.

“The results of the poll are in, they agree that higher gravity speeds will get us there within two hours,” Broscht said, in his droll bored tone.

“Miull, take us in,” Poshu said, rubbing his hands in victory again. “Get me Foshunti on the line,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

The extra gravities of thrust made Poshu move in slight annoyance, but it was worth it for the possible prize. Foshunti appeared minutes later. He still had a few minutes lag, which was going to make the conversation annoying.