Shadows of the Gods: Crimson Worlds Refugees II (43 page)

Specials? In this kind of a close-in fight?

Yes…I guess things are desperate enough…

Preston turned and looked out toward his lines. The makeshift wall was virtually gone, only a few small sections left standing. But the Marines still held the trenches, though in a few places where the fighting had been fiercest, they were mostly collapsed.

“All units, take cover immediately.” He turned back to Frasier. “Major, I suggest we continue this discussion under cover.”

“I agree, sir.”

He gestured toward the closest section of trench, and the two Marines jogged toward it. They dove in and hunkered down, just as the missiles started coming down.

The field in front of the trench erupted into a vision of hell. Explosions, conventional at first blasted all along the front of the trenchline, barely fifty meters out from the Marines’ positions. Then the ground shook with an unprecedented fury as nuclear warheads began impacting all around the camp. The first detonations were tactical in size, mostly fission bombs with yields of ten to fifty kilotons landing just under a kilometer out. They would have obliterated everyone in the trench if they’d been unprotected, but Marine armor was built to withstand the punishment of the nuclear battlefield. Then the tremors became harder as a ring of heavy thermonuclear warheads landed around the perimeter obliterating everything within their massive blast zones.

Temperatures that would have killed unarmored men and women were a minor inconvenience for the heavily-protected Marines, as long as they didn’t exceed the melting points of their osmium-iridium armor. And the radiation that would have given lethal doses to everyone in the vicinity were blocked by the shielding built into the fighting suits. Still, there was a limit to what even heavily armored Marines could take. And West’s ships were absolutely savaging the entire area.

Preston knew the assault had only been going on for a few minutes, but by the time the impacts stopped, it felt like it had been hours. He stayed hunkered down, crouched low behind the berm of the trench for at least a minute after the explosions stopped. Then he heard West’s voice coming through his com.

“All clear, Marines. That should ease things up…buy you some time until the shuttles get back down there.”

Preston rose slowly, peering over the edge of the trench. It was dark as night, massive clouds of billowing smoke and dirt blasted up into the sky blocking the midday sun. The nightmarish scene was illuminated only by the fires, burning fiercely in the few places where anything flammable remained. Most of the enemy bots were just gone, vaporized or blown to bits. The few that still remained recognizable had been reduced to blackened and twisted wreckage.

He stood up, climbing higher on the edge of the trench to get a better look. He’d never seen a more precise bombardment. For 360 degrees, all around the camp, there was a zone of total and utter destruction. And inside the defense perimeter, as far as he could tell, not a Marine position had been hit. His eyes flashed to his display, watching as his AI updated the data feeds. The information coming in was far from conclusive, but so far it was telling him not one of his people had been killed in the orbital attack. He found it difficult to even believe.

And the enemy attack had stopped, the advancing forces just gone. He doubted West had destroyed every First Imperium bot on the planet, but the assault that had been so close to pinching out his stronghold had been wiped out, utterly obliterated.

He turned toward Fraser. “Well, Duncan…it looks like Admiral West just saved our asses.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Colonel Preston before leaving X48II, the last human to depart

One more stinking shithole…just the kind of place Marines always seem to fight and die. The only question now is, did it mean something? Or were the lives of the fallen wasted? Right now, I don’t know.

Command Fighter A-01

18 light seconds from the X50 warp gate

The Fleet: 100 ships, 25780 crew

Hurley’s eyes were glued to her scanner display. She knew something was out there…she could feel it. She didn’t believe for an instant the enemy had botched its pursuit, given them time to get out of the trap. No, there was no way. There were enemy forces, either in this system or waiting to transit in. Or both.

The first part of her suspicion had been confirmed, partially at least, with the word that the pursuing enemy fleets had begun to transit in from X49. That wasn’t unexpected at all…those forces had been chasing them through four systems, pushing them all the way back to X48. Indeed…leaving them no open route save back to this very spot. And that meant there was something here.

Hounds to the hunters…

“John, I want to check out that dense area. The dust is heavy there, and it’s blocking our scans. See how close you can get without plunging right in.”

“Yes, Admiral.” She felt the almost immediate thrust as Wilder adjusted the fighter’s vector, putting them on a direct course for the edge of the heavy cloud.

Hurley closed her eyes for a second. She was exhausted and they burned with dryness. She stretched her neck, trying to loosen her aching muscles. Then she opened her eyes and saw it.

An instant later, Kip Janz turned and almost shouted at her. “Admiral! We’re picking up ships. Dozens of them.”

She was staring straight ahead, at the lines of small icons on her display. It was a fleet, no question. And a big one.

It was what she’d expected to find, what she’d plunged into the dust cloud to seek. Yet, still, she felt a wave of shock run through her…or was it fear?

“Hurley to
Midway
…Hurley to
Midway
. She was tapping at her com, almost frantically, but it wasn’t doing any good. The dust was too heavy…it was blocking her transmission.

“Get us out of here, John. We have to report to Admiral Compton immediately.” She turned her head. “And Kip, see if you can raise the other fighters. Tell them to get out of the cloud…to head back to the fleet by the fastest possible route.” She felt a pit in her stomach. He people were flying right into a massive enemy fleet. If she couldn’t reach them…

“No good on ship to ship com, Admiral. The dust is blocking all signals.” Janz paused, poking at his controls, trying again. “No,” he repeated. “It’s no good.” Then he turned and looked toward the command station. “Admiral, even if we get out, they’re all still in the cloud. What if we can’t…”

“Yes, Lieutenant. I know.” She hesitated, thinking about the three brand new squadrons she’d led here. Each bird was on its own now. It would depend on each pilot’s judgment, initiative. If they found the enemy and pulled away in time, they might make it out. If not…

“But notifying the fleet is our top priority,” Hurley said, her voice firm, cold. There was no time for what ifs. Not when the survival of the entire fleet was on the line.

The ship jerked suddenly, as Wilder pushed the throttle forward, accelerating, trying to reach the closest edge of the area of heavy dust concentrations. With a little luck, they could get there in three minutes…maybe four. Then they could warn
Midway.

Hurley took a deep breath, but before she finished exhaling the ship shook hard. She knew what it was immediately. They were under attack.

*    *    *

“The shuttles are all in the air, Admiral. Best estimate is twenty minutes until they are all docked.”

Compton nodded, following it up a few seconds later with, “That’s good news, Jack.” Cortez was looking right at the admiral, and he returned the nod. It was the first truly good news they’d had since finding the expedition more or less intact.

Though West’s pinpoint bombardment was pretty damned good news too
.

Compton moved his hand toward his display, but he stopped before he touched the controls. He was going to check the Marine casualty reports, but then he decided to wait. By all accounts, the final fighting had been brutal, and he knew Preston had suffered heavy losses. Reading it now wouldn’t change anything, and he had plenty to think about besides dead Marines. Useful things, things that could help save the fleet…and all the live Marines and spacers aboard.

“I want every ship ready to depart in forty minutes, Commander. No exceptions.” That was cutting it close, not giving the landing bay crews more than a few minutes to unload and stow the shuttles. But they didn’t have much time.

His eyes darted over toward the system map, pausing on the cluster of approaching ships. They were accelerating now, closing the distance much more quickly than they had been at first.

The fleet inbound from X49 was moving at 0.01c. That was fast enough as velocities went, but Compton had expected them to accelerate full right at his ships…and they hadn’t done that. He knew just how much thrust those ships could produce, and he was well aware that they could almost have reached the fleet by now if they’d blasted at full…instead of being almost fourteen hours out. If they maintained their current acceleration and didn’t increase it, the fleet could still get to the X50 gate before the enemy closed to firing range. But they didn’t have a second to waste.

“All ships are to lock in a course to the X50 warp gate, Commander. We’ll head out at 3g, but twenty minutes after departure, everyone will be in the tanks and the fleet will be accelerating at 30g.” He dreaded the idea of dragging everyone back into the hated tanks, but the sooner he got his people out of here the better he would feel. He was doing the best he could, using all his tactical skill to make the wisest decisions. But he still felt it was all in vain. The enemy could catch him if they wanted to…all they had to do was blast away at full thrust, and his people didn’t have a chance of getting away. It was that simple. And the fleet didn’t have a prayer in a straight up fight.

“All vessels confirm, Admiral. Nav plans locked in.” Cortez turned his head suddenly, putting his hand up to his headset. “Sir, we’ve got incoming communications from Admiral Hurley. The signal’s weak, all broken up.”

“Put it on speaker, Commander. Have the AI work on clearing up the signal.”

“…dust…heav…” There was loud static, only a few words coming through audibly. Compton had his ear against his speaker, eyes closed, trying to understand what his fighter commander was saying.”

“Repeat…large…fleet…” The signal was getting slowly clearer as the AI enhanced it. “Enemy…ships…cloud…” The static lessened slightly, the words becoming louder, less garbled. “Hundreds…repeat…enemy fleet…”

Compton felt cold in his gut as he listened. He understood her message.

There were enemy ships hidden in the dust clouds near the X50 gate. Hundreds of them.

*    *    *

“Get that shuttle bolted down, or I’m gonna throw your sorry ass out the airlock myself.” Sam McGraw had been terrorizing his landing bay crew for years, but even they had never seen him like this. He tended to throw around threats they knew he didn’t mean literally, but they looked at him now as if he just might space one of them for giving less than one hundred percent effort.”

“It’s not catching, Chief,” one of the sweating spacers said, trying to muster enough courage to turn and face his terrible commander as he did. “One of the gears is shot away. We’ve got to get an emergency latch on…”

“No time,” McGraw bellowed. “Jettison the thing.”

The spacer stared back, hesitating for just an instant. The decision to toss something like a shuttle out of the bay, was the kind of call the captain usually made. But McGraw made no motion to call the bridge and ask for permission. And the spacer had scraped up enough spine to face the chief when he spoke, but he wasn’t about to tell “Pitbull” McGraw he didn’t have the authority to do what he wanted to do. Especially not now, not in the mood he was in.

“Yes, sir,” he responded, turning almost immediately and shouting to his crew. “Let’s move this boat to the bay doors and get it out of here.” He walked toward his men, grateful for a reason to flee from McGraw’s immediate presence. He knew the admiral had given the chief his orders, and it was pretty obvious time was of the essence.
Midway
was stuck where it was until the ships were all locked down. Something as big as an unsecured shuttle could cause a lot of damage when the thrusters kicked in…and it could smash its way right through the hull at acceleration far below the flagships 30g max.

He could hear behind him…McGraw shouting at another crew. And for all the deadly danger he knew they were all in, he felt a wave of relief that the chief’s focus had turned elsewhere. He felt sorry for the helpless spacers getting blasted, but one thought kept running through his mind.
Better them than me…

Still, he knew it would come back his way, especially if his people didn’t get this shuttle ready to jettison. “Let’s move it…now!” he shouted, not realizing how much he sounded like McGraw.

*    *    *

“Set a course back to the X46 gate, Commander.” Compton was staring at his own screen as he belted out the order, working through his own numbers, doing the job himself that he’d just given to his tactical officer. There was no time…and two sets of hands and eyes were better than one. They would double-check each other’s results simultaneously.

But it didn’t matter. Compton already knew they couldn’t get to X46 ahead of the approaching fleet, even at the enemy’s current velocity. Now he understood why they had held back their thrust…they knew they had the X50 gate blocked. And at 0.01c, they could decelerate as they moved into battle, prolonging the time in the combat zone. If they’d blasted up to 0.03c, they’d have zipped past Compton’s ships, and it would have taken them hours to slow down…and hours more to accelerate back. Time the human fleet could have used to try to escape. But now Compton knew his people were truly trapped. They would make a run for X46, but he knew they wouldn’t make it. And for the first time in his career he had no ideas, no plan, no tricks, nothing. Even in X18, when everyone else had given up, his mind had found the way out. But not this time.