Alien Cradle, Jeff Inlo [graded readers .txt] 📗

absentmindedly at the command terminal which revealed the coming disaster.

Rath wanted to shout. This was sheer stupidity. Maybe they had fooled any long range surveillance ops with their little trick of body covers and false recordings, but they were still in the same complex, and the Authority was coming. The Authority was here! Rath counted enough attack ships to blanket charge the entire continent. In his mind there was no question, it was time to leave.

The pirate apparently did not agree. He made no motion to evacuate, only tapped a few controls on a security pad. He monitored a weapons launch with near amusement.

On Semele's surface, accelerator cannons propelled magnetic charges in wide spread patterns. The explosions in the upper atmosphere created a flux in wave reception. Any sensors focused on Semele broke apart in the distortion.

Angelo's fingers danced once more. There was no obvious result to his actions, but he decided to reveal his intentions.

"I've created a wave pulse over this installation, over a good deal of the countryside, in fact. This will ultimately cause the disruption of all monitoring devices fixed on this complex. I cancelled the fake transmissions and shadow imaging in the conference room. No need to continue that charade. I'm ordering the evacuation of the planet. We, however, are not going to leave."

"Damn!" Taranson muttered.

"What?" Jack demanded with an unhappy tone.

"I lost contact. They fired some kind of charge into the air, probably to break up ship to ship communications so the surface attackers can't coordinate. I'm picking up launch detections as well. Several small ships. They're buggin' out."

"What about Scampion?"

"I'm trying to reestablish a link, but there's too much interference."

"Break through it, damn it."

"Refocusing now. Increasing power. No, I can't get anything. Nothing there. I'm on their last known position, but I'm not getting any readings. Not even breathing. They must have left the room."

"Those launches. Where did they take place, from the complex?"

"Some."

"Could Scampion be on one?"

"Not possible," Taranson responded with certainty. "He wouldn't have had enough time. He was in a security area less than a minute ago. No launches took place close enough for him to be on one, but I don't think it matters anyway. Take a look. Several smaller ships from the complex are going into full push, but it looks like Authority hunters are locking onto Boscon paths and firing tracking torps. No one's going to get away."

"Track every ship that launched from the complex," Jack demanded. "To hell with the cruisers and escorts that were in flight when Scampion was still on the ground. I want to make sure that every ship leaving the complex is destroyed. Transmit to the fleet command that Angelo and Scampion may be trying to escape. That'll make 'em follow up."

"Message sent. Authority is responding with orders to the hunters. All tracking torpedoes are being fired with confirming beacons. Every ship evacuating will be accounted for."

The attack display offered a grim truth for the pirates. Marauder frigates and cruisers still able to reach hyperlight ignored any pleas from crippled sister ships and took to full escape power. Hunter ships with tracking torpedoes fired in their wake. The egg-shaped, Boscon-propelled weaponry ate the signature of the fleeing ships until they impacted in the core of the engine. A loss of power at that speed, combined with the detonation of the torpedo, meant total obliteration.

Authority light cruisers took on the task of eliminating escape shuttles and escorts before they could reach hyperlight. Particle beams tore holes in the hulls, forcing a full integrity collapse. The crushed shells of metal either took to a satellite orbit, or were caught in Semele's atmosphere and burned up on reentry. Artillery Rovers handled the crippled pirate vessels unable to reach hyperlight but remained too well armored for particle beams. Hundred ton Slagmans turned any armor into scrap and left blasted, cavity-filled hulks in their wake.

Jack watched with near detachment. He cared little for the pirates. They were a nuisance, nothing else. The true threat remained on Semele, at least he believed so, and for that, he demanded assurances.

"Start scanning the area around Scampion's last known position. I want him found. Now! Use everything you have. He may be dead so don't rely on motion. I want a confirmed picture of his body and you don't have much time. Those blitzers are going to make short work of that complex and I want to reestablish contact before there's nothing left to scan."

Rath slunk over to a corner and watched with exasperation, but he didn't need the command terminals to know the complex he was in was targeted for complete destruction. They were deep in the ground, some kind of bunker, but the walls still shook from the force of blitzer strikes. Authority attack ships were simply whittling at the structure, blasting away layer after layer. It was slow agony. He guessed the Authority wanted it that way, punish the rebels and show off their might at the same time.

He looked up to the ceiling, wondering what it would feel like when it would ultimately collapse, what it would feel like to be crushed to death.

He forced the unpleasant image out of his mind. No sense in dying that kind of death more than once, even if it was just in his imagination. He simply prayed for it to be quick.

The courier broke out of Boscon Push during uuencoded message transmissions. The pilot had left Fenrir before the base station was destroyed. She was ordered to send an emergency message, and she delivered it now.

She sent only one communication, unaware that the Authority fleet was engaged in wave flooding. It was received in three separate locations.

General Hollins made a decision based more on personal preference than on a strategic consideration. He could have quickly completed the destruction of Semele, but he remembered his last encounter with the Fenrites, when he was the Station General and the attack on Fenrir failed to exterminate the species. He examined the communication for only a second.

"Break off the attack. Recall all ships. Transmit new orders on a secured channel. Redeployment necessary. Coordinate Boscon Push initiation with this vessel. Destination Fenrir."

No one dared to question his orders, not the other ship captains, and not the pilots that were forced to break off and return to their carriers. The full fleet regrouped away from Semele and left the planet behind, many of the surface complexes still somewhat intact.

Angelo never took his eyes off the command displays, but he could sense Rath's discomfort. There were others about, guards and mercs, who also displayed a sense of urgency.

The shaking had ceased, as did the muffled sound of explosions. Quiet again seeped into the last existing levels of the main complex, but it offered no true respite. It served more to amplify dread than offer relief, like the eye of the hurricane.

The pirate decided to alleviate all of their concerns with one sweeping statement.

"The Authority is breaking off their attack. They've sent a secured message to all vessels. I don't know what it is, but I know they're leaving. I also know why. It seems the Fenrites have attacked a Planning Station and a courier ship was sent to obtain assistance."

"The Fenrites?" Rath professed in near amazement.

Angelo continued to monitor his screens. He did not turn to look at the scout, but he addressed him with a tone of dissatisfaction. "Does that surprise you, Mr. Scampion? You were attacked by the Fenrites, were you not?"

"Yeah, but I was on a transport. To attack a Planning Station, that's ...."

"A surprise? I assume it must be. The Authority was obviously not prepared for such an event. Otherwise they would not have been in this position. I suppose timing is important in most things. If events remain confused, I suppose it's time I sent a message of my own."

Jack shook his head with disgust, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't transmit to the fleet, he knew who was in command, remembered the last time he spoke with General Hollins. The fleet commander would probably laugh out loud if he tried to order him to stay.

"Keep scanning the complex. See if you can match any of the patterns with the three targets. I'll take anybody at this point. Maybe one will lead us to another."

"The ops are having a hard time getting through the static. The blitzers must have destroyed over half the complex. The bomb residue from the targeting mechanisms is playing havoc with our sensors. I'm picking up trails of survivors, but nothing I can pinpoint."

"Keep trying. What about Scampion's scout, anything on that? The beacon's been removed so I can't locate it. What about you?"

Taranson grunted. "I can put an op on it, but there's so much debris, I can't make any promises."

A view of turmoil greeted the coordinator as he peered through the front viewshield. The battle had ended with the fleet's departure. Wreckage filled every line of sight. Far off to the portside, remnants of destroyed marauder freighters drifted casually toward the sun. A few crippled vessels labored to establish a safe anchor for emergency repairs. A handful of space tugs appeared to assist the truly crippled, but not near enough to do the job. Jack could only wonder how many hands would be lost in the next few minutes as power supplies failed and life support systems dwindled on these disabled vessels.

"What a mess."

He felt no sense of loss, only an impression of unfinished business. Scampion wasn't dead and neither was Angelo. He had no real evidence for that assumption, only another feeling, and a presumption that was quickly confirmed in unanticipated fashion.

"Sir, I've got lock on some marks deep within the complex."

"Can you identify?"

"Absolutely. It's Angelo. I've also got a confirmed reading on his wife and Scampion. There are a few guards as well."

"How were you able to locate them?"

Taranson grimaced and spoke reluctantly. "I'm just trailing his own signal down to his position. He's transmitting a message to us. He knows we're here. He wants one of us to come down to meet him."

Jack closed his eyes, but he still saw red.

Deals Made

Even for those in the fleet without access to viewshields or terminal displays, rumors and image files spread fast enough for everyone to know the fate of the Planning Station. General Hollins wouldn't have stopped the flow of information if he could. He wanted the scene burned into every soldier's memory, from cadet to commander. He found no joy in this revelation. He recalled the men and women who served with him before he was reassigned to his new post. If anything, it opened a loss in his spirit, a hole in his pride. But it also offered redemption. It justified his disgust for the entire Fenrite situation, his displeasure with the councils - both the politicians and the scientists. He looked upon the sobering scene as a tribute to their incompetence, not the Authority's.

But it was the Authority that had truly suffered. It was their station, their soldiers, that had faced the Fenrites, not the councils or the scientists, and the aftermath filled the main display in the command center with a grim reality. What was an entire self-propelled base station now drifted in space as a charred, crushed mass of fused metal.