Free Fleet #03 No Rest for the Wicked (7 page)

Commandos were pulling back from their initial contacts with the enemy. Wounded and dead were mounting and there were still one of us to five of the syndicates. Soon they'd get to the open areas and it would become an all out brawl. George was looking at the same information.

“Alright ladies and gents, check your gear and get fuelled.” With so many races, not all of them drank water. Some of them rarely drank like the Avarians and Sarenmenti who had a mainly solid diet. It meant that specifics had become in most cases generalizations.

Just another thing the Free Fleet had changed for the people within it, no matter their race. Another alert sounded as mass casualties were reported in a hallway where someone had used a grenade to clear not only the commandos, but their own forces.

***

“Grenade detonation in Purple nine three!” One of Henry’s controllers said as he stroked his beard, anger filling his eyes as he forced back his impulse to charge into the enemy and claim retribution.

“Commander Santos reports the next squad commander is deploying support,”

Henry nodded darkly.

“Very well.” He looked to other issues.

“They're going to break through soon. I want forces engaged in hand-to-hand to fall back under the cover of the next squad,” Henry said absently. It was odd, battle raged all around them, but in this room it was quiet, everyone listening to Henry as he orchestrated the deaths of possibly thousands of Syndicate troops.

“Have squads leapfrog back to the eighth line. I want forces past the line ready to engage. We've drawn them in, now it's time to move onto recapture. As we planned I want the re-organized squads that have already been engaged and reserve force company commander Kreum ready to engage. The remaining reserve is to get those damned ships,” Henry growled as he waited for his controllers to look back to him, showing they'd sent the orders.

“Good, now we'll have nowhere to fall back to, no reinforcements, and split up. Let's show these bastards how we fight!” he said as he unlimbered his rail gun and racked a round. Others in the room checked their gear and followed their CAMC.

Chapter – By Any Means

Cheerleader listened to the message in its entirety, as well as looking at the information that had come with it, her face revealing nothing, but inside she was a mess of emotions.

The message ended and no one said anything as Cheerleader finished musing over the information she'd gained.

“Ben, plot a course to Parnmal,” she said, as if she'd been debating what movie to watch that evening.

Ben said nothing as he turned to begin plotting the course, Milra moving to his station to assist him if he needed it.

“Vort, recall all forces that are available within six hours. Also send a confirmation to Bregend. He as well as the factory ship and a destroyer are to stay behind. Bregend will be overall commander for the scouting of this area. Send him all logs. Onur, pick a destroyer to stay in-system. I want them liaising with Bregend as soon as possible.

“I want updates from every ship on their readiness within a half hour. Every ship is to be on yellow alert. I also want Corvettes to start making a FTL comm line through the systems Bregend went through to get here. That is to be a line of retreat if the syndicate make it to this system. Walf, I want you to get an information packet from him regarding those systems, as well as a summary of what is in those systems. Pass that to every ship.”

Cheerleader continued to go through the data.

How in the hell could Monk deal with that many ships? Plus he says there's probably more on the way.

By Cheerleader's calculations it had taken Bregend nearly a month and a half to get to her, and it would take her another two weeks to get to Parnmal, time she simply didn't have.
They could be dead already
, she thought as cold set over her, sadness making her eyes itch as she gritted her teeth, pain being replaced by anger.

Have faith.
She chastised herself.
If they are dead, then we will regroup and grow until we can beat them.
Resolved, she tilted in her seat, resting her chin on her hand as she cleared her mind, using meditative techniques Monk had taught her. Now was not the time to let emotions rule her.

***

Kelu's forces had finally broken through and he'd found out some not so pleasing information. It appeared that he was right about not fighting syndicate forces. The troops he was fighting were organized, able to fight in high gravity and there were only five different types of them. Either they came from a very diverse planet or from up to five different planets.

We need to win this battle or we may have a fight on two fronts.
He felt cold fear trickle through him at that little thought, especially seeing how well the enemy fought.
Though they've now got everything on the line and we're already in the markets and living quarters. We'll soon have the gunnery control rooms.

When Kelu had the team leaders regather some of his troops and ferry them to other entry points, straining the enemy even more.

“We have movement, Captain,” The sensor officer said.

“What is it?” Kelu asked.

“Shuttles,” Kelu looked to the creature.

“What?”

“There's shutles hugging the surface of Parnmal and creeping up on ships,”

Dread filled Kelu.

“Pull back the troops now!”

“But-”

“We have no troops and those fuckers are going to board us,” Kelu clicked, an old tic from his mother race. The General didn't say another word as he began ordering the closest units back to the ships, as well as the few thousand waiting to get into the station still.

Kelu marched to his ready room, opening his closet and putting on the mecha that waited for him there. He walked out of his charging-cradle/closet, grabbing a rifle and loading it.

Always good to have a backup.
He thought, pulling the charging handle. The mecha and weapons had been one of Kelu's plan B's in case the crew ever revolted against him. It had happened more than once in the Syndicate.

He marched out now, more confident as he remembered the lessons he'd been given on the machine. Without neural implants he was running off of chemical surges through his body which allowed him to move his limbs. The mecha was equipped to do that but it wasn't the smoothest.

The shuttle pilots seemed equal parts insane and brilliant as they skimmed across the surface of the asteroid turned station, barely missing protrusions. Weapons fire spat from the fast moving craft, hammering the Syndicate troops that were racing back to their ships.
Of course they armed the damned things.
Out in the open as they were, it was a slaughter. Kelu didn't have time to think on it, not that he would've cared, as some of the shuttles came under fire from the laborious and slow PDS systems. They took out a few shuttles, but they were like a rock trying to stop a wave. The enemy closed with the ships and attached not to the airlocks, but the hulls.

“It's going to take hours for them to get through,” The tactical officer said.

“These people are not idiots and you'd do best to remember it,” Kelu's voice cold as he went to a weapons locker at the rear of the bridge.

“Grab a weapon,” he said as there was a miniature stampede to get to the weapons locker. Kelu got out of the way as he indicated for Urlow to follow him. Urlow quickly did so and they walked through the open blast doors, quickly making their way through the halls to his room.

Urlow was the first to talk when they got to Kelu's room.

“What are we doing here, sir? Shouldn't we be getting ready to repel the enemy?” he said, confused as Kelu accessed something on his private terminal and threw Urlow a holdout he kept underneath it.

“Always have a plan,” Kelu said as the wall moved to reveal a well maintained and small shuttle.

“At the rear with the gear,” Urlow said with an appreciative grin. Opening the door for his captain.

“After you sir,”

Definitely giving this one a ship after this mess,
Kelu thought as he got in and began powering up, Urlow sealing the shuttle behind him.

***

Falesh had never been so tired in his life. He was completely running on WakeUp now. He'd exhausted his supply and still the enemy kept on coming. Some idiot had had the bright idea of throwing a bandolier of grenades into the melee. It had killed more of the syndicate troops than the enemy, and the thrower had been promptly killed by his fellow syndicate troops. But it had given the syndicate force time to move up, until they could reinforce their defenses. Big bastards with more plating that Falesh had seen on a shuttle thumped their way into the corridor blocking their forces off. Even with their massive armour, their mechas easily compensated the weight as they locked in their arms and fired. Falesh hadn't moved from his first spot, being so tired, and he was happy he didn't as the bastards were carrying auto cannons. Beads ripped down the hallway cutting the syndicate forces down as the auto gunners moved up, forces with lighter weapons covering them as they rushed up.

Syndicate members threw grenades and fired sporadically, getting a few lucky kills, but the bastards kept coming. They moved systematically clearing rooms and constantly moving. Once they got to their dead and dying they ferried them back to the rear, gunners keeping up constant fire so not even a grenade could get to them. One tried to throw a grenade, but her hand was shredded to nothing the moment she stood. Her grenade was set on impact, it exploded when it dropped to the floor.

Once the dead and dying were cleared the enemy retreated once again. A few were hit, but none were left behind as a firing line was made at the end of the hallway. They picked off anyone that left their cover.

“Find me another way around!” Falesh barked as he saw other forces had already made it into the living areas of the station. He saw one group close to the end of the corridor, and an evil smile appeared on his face.

“Hey, whoever this is, we've got assholes looking the wrong direction right here. They're all yours,” he relayed the point where the enemy had their gun line as he rested against the wall.

I'm too old for this shit.

He watched as the gun line was rolled over, grenades falling amongst their midst as they fell to the tired cheers of the syndicate troops, who picked themselves up and continued forward. Abruptly, Falesh found himself free from the deadly corridors, and instead in the maze of living quarters which had been cut directly through Parnmal's core. Falesh dropped to the ground as he saw enemy reinforcements turn a corner. He let a stream of fire go, and the enemy returned fire, but they were slow and overwhelmed quickly.

“Let's get these fucking bastards!” he yelled to the cheers of those around him as they quick walked up the hall.

But, the enemy waited behind the corner, jumping out into the midst of the syndicate troops, shooting and cutting as if possessed. The syndicates fought back with the vicious brawling techniques they knew.

Thank god we have numbers on our side.
Falesh thought. Fifty thousand troops had died from the time they left the ships to finally getting past the complex series of defences.

Chapter - Patience

Even though Dreckt had agreed to the plan that Henry, his commanders and Salchar had worked on, this part was possibly the worst. He had to wait, allowing those he had trained and his brothers that had fought beside him for the majority of his life to take on a force seven times their size as the remaining forces on Parnmal prepared their last-ditch defense.

He checked his smaller and faster firing rail guns with their attached blades. He hadn't been in any battles with the Free Fleet, but before that he had a lifetime of battling under his belt. He was confident, but still nervous.

The Free Fleet had told him and his people the truth; while they didn't know the fate of their race, the Sarenmenti as well as the Kuruvians were applying to have colonies from Sol systems to AIH. They'd learnt that one planet was not enough of a safety net.

Now’s not the time to be thinking on that.
He let out a few breaths before checking his weapons again, waiting for the order.

Salchar

“Breeching!” the door Commando said as the directed plasmid charges cut through the destroyer’s armour as if it was nonexistent. There was a rush of air in, the forward Commandos threw their grenades compensating for the pressure difference and dull thuds went off as the rush of air stopped pulling at their mechas.

“Move!” George said, his commandos moving before he'd finished yelling.

“Clear right,”

“Left,”

“Moving,”

The shuttle quickly cleared as commandos filled the ships, breaking off for their objectives. I was placed in the middle of my protection detail and a few extras, our objective a secondary power plant.
Brrvvvfft. Brrvvvfft.
Krom's auto-cannon dropped four attackers with quick burst as we kept moving with barely any pause. We cleared through rooms, me keeping mostly out of the way as no one wanted to put me in danger it seemed.

“We have forces getting back on the ships. We need those weapon systems down so we can manoeuvre and shoot them,”

Shit,
I thought as I looked at the diagrams of the ship. Someone had gotten us a blue print and after looking over the plans with Shrift, Eddie, Silly and anyone that wanted to do anything technical. I had gotten quite good at looking at the mechanical and electrical systems and understanding just what the heck they were. I circled approximately ten junctions before I contacted George.

“This is where the power relays for the PDS targeting computers are. We take them out then this ship can't use anything but manual,”

He studied it for a minute as grabbed my swinging gun, checking where my group had been moving during my little fact finding mission.

“Uhh, could you? ...”

“Just give me your orders, George,” I said in a soothing tone, he didn't need me looking over his shoulder.

“Thanks. Take out the two nearest you,” he said, sending my squad the locations for the junctions.

“On it,” I changed to the CAF. “We’ve been reassigned to take out the beauties on your HUDS,” I said.

“Calerd could you get us a route,”

“Certainly. Give me a hand here, Janice,” he said as he stopped in front of a wall, cutting into it as Janice checked the wire overlay of what lay behind it.

“I always like the express route,” I said, getting a few displeased head shakes at my terrible try at humour.

“Don't have any sense of humour, you lot,”

“Spent too much time around you sir,” Shreesht said. I couldn't help grin at my group’s chuckles.

****

Henry swung his plasmid battle axe, taking out two mecha's legs. One side of his blade had special hardened spikes which drove into the two troops' chests as he smashed them to the floor, shooting another one in the neck with his pistol.

“Come on you fuckers!” He yelled as the Commandos roared with him. The commando to his right went down under a blade, but Henry made sure his attacker quickly followed him. Henry backed up slightly. He was tired and losing people too fast. The syndicate forces were having a hard time in the high gravity, but in a battle those things mattered little: fighting hormones and chemicals ruled. The syndicates also had more reinforcements than Henry had people. Nearly five times over.

A syndicate troop got a weapon up, hitting Commandos in the faceplates and hitting Henry's shoulder before they stopped shooting. A Syndicate jumped, trying to plant his blade in Henry's neck. He hit the attacker away with the flat of his blade.

“Pull back!” he said. He needed to change out people. His front lines were bone tired from fighting constantly.

“Need to change, give us some room,”

“There's a gun emplacement, but it's broken!” a gunner said who had re-donned his mecha. One needed to know how to fight no matter if they were an electrical technician, a gunner or a fully trained commando.

“How long?” Henry got a glancing blow to the leg as he pushed an attacker back by the face plate, shooting that one while his axe crashed into the troop beside him.

“Ten minutes!”

Ten minutes was a lifetime.

“We'll hold them off. Won't we, Commandos?!” Henry barked as his troops stepped up and cut into the enemy with renewed ferocity.

Henry reloaded his pistol as he smacked a blade away, planting the spike between his two axe blades into the attacker’s shoulder. Another blade took off part of his helmet as he ducked. His rail pistol reloaded and he shot the enemy troop three times before finding something soft, at the same time dragging the plasmid blade across the groin of the one he’d spiked earlier. With an upward stroke his axe went through a helmet. His Commando's energy had waned again, and one over balanced as Henry leveled his axe. With an enemy troop going for the kill, he pressed a button on the axes handle and the spike at the end shot out, going through the attacker’s neck.

“How long?” he barked as he used his pistol to avert a blow, turning it into a useless lump of sparking electronics. He threw it at a lunging trooper, giving the commando on the ground enough time to smack the blade away and take off the attacker’s helmet in a grisly display.

“Five minutes,”

It's only been five minutes.
Henry's mind didn't seem to be able to comprehend that. As he grabbed a grenade with his now free hand, he turned stopping a blow from hitting his helmet only to have it lodge in his shoulder, forcing him to drop the grenade.

“Argghhh!” Henry groaned, his eyes filled with pain driven anger as he extended the shaft of his axe with a press of a button, clearing a five foot area in front of him with four swings.

“They're coming from behind!” someone yelled. Dread filled Henry as he employed the moves Yasu had taught him to use minimal energy for the most devastating attacks with a longer weapon.

The enemy seemed to know that their forces were coming to cut off Henry's people. Their attacks redoubled, pushing back Henry and his defenders, many of them falling. Henry himself only barely survived, with limited mobility in his legs, his upper armoured torso a series of plasma burns.

“The gun’s ready” a voice called out. “But they're almost here, we have to pull back.”

I know that voice...
Henry thought. It somehow reminded him of Verlu.
Commander Tully! The man that took his spot,
he thought sadly in a haze brought on by fatigue.
I miss you buddy,
he thought as he took off a troop’s arm, reversed his weapon and buried his blade in the soldier’s torso.
Shit.
His axe stuck as the trooper fell. Henry backed up and hit the armoured wall of the gun mount.

Troopers sensing an easy prey slashed at Henry. He took a blow to the leg which burned, telling him it got through, as another attacker stabbed at his arm. He pulled and turned the trooper, drawing the soldier’s blade against his own neck as he got around the armoured shield of the turret. He rested as he saw the mess behind the first liners. All of the commandos were bone tired. They might be able to move easily with the higher gravity, but it didn't mean it didn't tire them out. All of them were exhausted. They had been fighting for hours now. Wounded were being dragged back behind the lines, but there were more of them than people standing. Commandos were taking two or three at a time as they ran to the rear. The enemy reinforcements had almost arrived. They were no more than five meters away.

“Well sometimes you just have to do something stupid.” He grabbed the turret and depressed the trigger, rounds thudded into the syndicate who were at point blank range. The weapon was one of the PDS systems.

“How do you like a seventy five calibre Gatling gun?” he yelled as the massive shells punched through the first ranks, exploding to take out the enemy behind them.

“Pull back Commandos!” he yelled as his HUD alerted him that his people were in position. Using his eyes, he opened a channel.

“Get em,” he said, sounding every bit exhausted and angry as he felt.

The corridor where Henry had been fighting was clear up to thirty metres.

“Breech!” someone said as Henry turned the turret to the other corridor, to see the last commando stumble as her leg was cut. She stabbed her attacker, getting a blade in the shoulder, she pulled the attacker in, head-butting the other soldier and slashing him, taking his blade, as she stabbed another with the first and batted a second away with her new blade. A railgun came up and a short burst announced the end of the Commando who dropped to her knees.

Blood pooled around her. She’d been a Sarenmenti.

“No!” Henry yelled. Tears blurred his vision as he clamped down on the trigger, his face remorseless as he kept firing.

The troops that had recovered from his initial onslaught and were quickly working their way to him. He fired into them as he glanced back to his Commandos.

“Come on, Commander!” Tully said.

“You wouldn't be able to get our brothers and sisters out of here then,” Henry said as he pulled the pins that held the Gatling gun. He fired into the mass that were surging over the Commandos that had defended their brothers and sisters with their lives.

He grabbed hold of four linked boxes as he hit a switch to lower the rate of fire, walking backwards crouched over so he could drag the crates, using the same arm to cradle the monstrous weapon while he depressed the trigger with the other hand.

Heavy grav is useful for one thing.
Henry thought grimly. His mecha's power output was cranked up and the thing that was slowing him down, was also making the recoil feel much less.

Sweating but twenty metres back from where the two corridors filled with Syndicate troopers, Henry took a knee and braced the Gatling gun as he fired into the converging group which continued toward him.

“Take that fuckers!” he said as he fired into the oncoming tide. The Gatling gun was a weapon of mass death but the Syndicate just had so many troopers. Using his eyes and pressure balls on his fingers to activate another view screen he looked backwards down the corridor. A group of gunners was waiting to unleash hell, but they were blocked by the casualties and the ones carrying them to safety.

Henry's gun ran dry as he thumbed two grenades and threw it into the mass just five meters away. It killed tens of them but barely slowed them. Henry only had enough time to stand, using the Gatling gun like a blunt club he crushed a trooper’s face plate.

Suddenly everything became much lighter as an unseen weight lifted from Henry. He didn't change his mecha's power settings however as he whirled, the Gatling gun now feeling like a pillow in his hands instead of a desk. Suddenly, the syndicate troopers looked like Henry's squad had when they'd first got the full abilities of mechas; they went flying off in every direction, mostly into the walls.

Henry grinned sadly.

Good memories.
He thought.

A blade glanced off of Henry's helmet as he used the gatling gun to check the owner's helmet.

“What the fuck are these people? Monsters?” someone asked, and Henry realized that his comms had changed to CAF, so he was picking up the syndicate troopers.

“Fucker won't go down!” another panicked voice said and Henry grinned as he used the lighter gravity and his still fully powered mecha to jump past the first line of attackers and bury himself in the second or third.

“We're Commandos! Armoured fucking Marine Commandos, and we are your death!” Henry brought the gun low, tripping troops as he crushed one, the Gatling's handle flying off.

He grabbed a blade that made to jab up into his torso. The syndicate troops seemed to be moving in slow motion as they tried to get hold of themselves and adapt to universal gravity. Henry got inside the troopers reach, grabbed the hilt of his weapon and smashed his helmet with his own extra armoured helmet.

He took down three more in quick succession as the troopers oriented themselves to the gravity changed. The last Commando was just five meters from safety. Henry's leg cut out as an attacker behind him took out the circuits. His leg was mangled underneath the armour, and he was unable to stand on it. He jumped backwards, cutting a trooper that stabbed at him as he plowed through mechas.