"Do we know where the energy generator is?" Hugh asks Swalni. "Or how to find it? We really need to stop that thing from killing us so we can lay down support fire for the boots on the ground."
After a second, Hugh looks at Semo. "Sarge, go with Mellish. Just to be sure the defenses get all the killers. I'll take the gunnery station."
Hugh takes over from Semo. He's had a briefing on the Needleship's weapons, and a steady hand can't be all that useless here, right?
Semo scores a hit, but that does little to reduce the threat from the ground. A particle beam reduces the ship's weaponry options by one. This is followed almost immediately be a flight of killdrones! Shit!
The ground forces actually manage to take out many of the drones, but a significant number slip through. Swalni shows up just in time with an explanation that does nothing to cheer Semo.
"So how the hell do we locate this generator, Swalni?"
They need point defense to deal with the drones and it ain't working at the moment. Mellish offers to to go work it and Hugh adds Semo to the point defense team.
"Yessir!" Semo pops out of the gunnery couch and joins Mellish. "We better get their double-time, Hammer. Come on!"
Recalling the path to the point defense center from his training, Semo starts off at a trot.
"Their generator's gonna be buried far enough down to where we can't hit it, at least not with anything that's not gonna waste the entire arcology... and then it won't matter," Swalni explains. "Look... the way... the way this usually goes is we're moving. They're not. They have to take more shots at us to nail down where are guns are, so we get better tracking on their weapons and take 'em out. Or we've got interceptors flying cover for us. Or more than one Needleship. We can take a shitload of hits, but they're armored by the planet. Their generators can take ten shitloads. Right now I think they're waiting to see what we're doing."
---
Semo and Mellish are clumsy in the microgravity. Too much wasted movement, too much careening through corridors. They reach the first of the point-defense stations, just a crasher no bigger than a coach-class seat on an airliner. It controls eight drone turrets; each display is set for "human confirmation" - a manned station. It's an easy task to find to access control and, with the dead weapon officer's codes, to override its settings to "shoot incoming objects".
Just five more stations like this evenly spaced through the kilometer-long Needleship. One kilometer in zero-G through a spacecraft interior. In less than four minutes. Semo brings up the deckplans. Three of the stations are in vented areas!
Mellish voxes Oskell. "Mellish here. You outta Engineering yet?"
*Yeah, Quper's boys cut us out.*
"Listen, uh... we need some help. I've got some codes for you, you need to get to the two aft-quarter point-defense stations and set them to 'shoot everything'. You've got... fuck! Three and a half minutes."
*Those compartments are sealed off!*
"We're all wearing spacesuits!"
*That's got nothin' to do with it! Those blast doors aren't airlocks! They open, we lose more atmo! We ain't a greenhouse, we ain't makin' more O2!*
Mellish turns to Semo as they make their way to the next accessible PD station. "So we dilute our air if we turn on the guns, and if we don't turn on the guns, we die? This is bullshit, Sarge!" he says pleadingly.
"Okay, you'll have to excuse my lack of techtalk, but is there a way to take out that generator without blowing it up? Is there something like a power distributor to target, or can we overload their grid?"
He swallows hard.
"Because I'm not going to blow up the arcology. Worst case scenario, we hold out as long as possible and abandon ship when we have to. Easy come, easy go, and it's not like retaking it after blowing the crap out of the ship will let them stand up to our other asset."
With the sudden onset of an idea, he smiles again.
"But we're not that desperate yet. It occurs to me that staying inside the gate doesn't mean that we have to stay in a fixed position - we just have to move the gate with us. Thoughts?"
"Yeah... yeah, yeah..." Swalni follows. "Get Cargo Cult and You Dig to grapple the Gate and secure it to the Needle, then we're back in business!"
Haj interrupts with (more) bad news. "Hugh, several point defense stations are in vented compartments. The men can use their internal air supplies, except those emergency doors will still let air into the empty sections. I don't know how long we're gonna need to be up here, and venting the ship the first time spent the reserves. We can't make more air-"
"Who says?" Swalni argues. "We're floating above all the air we need! Open the compartments up, get the PD back, get over the horizon and soak up more atmo!"
"You think a few grapplers are gonna hold up to that? The Gate's going to rip free and more than likely take us down with it!"
"That's a risk I'm willing to take," Hugh replies. "We need those point defense guns. We can worry about replenishing atmo when we actually run low. Grapple the gate, get the guns online, and start moving, we just have to avoid accelerating too sharply."
Semo swears again and again as he bounces off that or floats in the wrong direction. 0-G is just not his thing. As much as possible, he holds onto the walls and pulls himself along.
Eventually, they reach the first point-defense station. Fortunately, bringing it online is almost trivially easy.
Then the bad news: most of the stations are in vented areas! Semo groans loudly while Mellish contacts the engineering team.
Quote:
Mellish turns to Semo as they make their way to the next accessible PD station. "So we dilute our air if we turn on the guns, and if we don't turn on the guns, we die? This is bullshit, Sarge!" he says pleadingly.
Semo grits his teeth for a moment as he tries to work it out. He can't help wishing Hugh were here to make the decision, but they cannot afford to wait.
"You're right, Hammer. All I can say is that without the guns we die now. Losing the oxygen will take a while, and maybe the brass can figure out a solution."
Semo keys his vox. "Oskell, Semo here. Do the best you can - don't leave those doors open any longer than you have to - but get those point-defense systems up!"
"Come on, Mellish, let's get to the next one." Semo starts to make his way through the giant ship toward the next PD station.
Wind blasts past Mellish and Semo, timed with dull thumps as blast doors open sealed compartments. Semo lets the sudden wind tunnel carry him through the microgravity, reaching out for handholds to guide him to the next point-defense station. He's made good time.
The Turai suits click into their internal air supplies as the Needleship's atmosphere reaches critical levels. Semo tastes cold, metallic air. The lift-shaft down to the next station is dim, flickering with lighting shorted out from the ground fire. Semo pushes off from the hatchway and rebounds off the shaft walls, "falling" 30 feet with each leap. He lands on the defense level entrance hard, rolling and flailing but soon regains his bearing as he slams into the station. Another code entered, another eight turrets online.
*We've got our stations online!* Oskell shouts into his vox, short of breath.
*Sixty seconds!* Haj's voice is frantic. *Get clear, Cargo Cult!*
The hum of active turrets filters through the radio chatter and the suits' rebreathers. Semo throws himself down labyrinthine hallways, into an engineering section littered with floating corpses. Faint trails of blood hang in the air like pink diamonds; Semo plows into a dead Imperial and sends the entire macabre arrangement into a maddening spiral.
*Twenty seconds!*
Goddamn, where's the station?!
Semo sees it finally, an out-of-the-way crasher nestled in an array of secondary engineering consoles. The Needleship starts to rumble. Tiny pings resound through the hull as the PD turrets detonate the oncoming killdrones too close; their shrapnel ricochets off the hull.
Semo punches in the codes. He sees the defense readouts. The vacuum outside the Liberator is on fire with exploding drones and stabbing, seeking energy pulses.
---
In the CIC, Hugh watches the wave of Imperial munitions crash against the capship's point defenses. The two freighters made it clear and are moving into grappling range when another particle beam lances up from the Spire! It seems the surface was waiting for the Needleship to outline itself with its point defense - the particle beam slams into the Liberator, prompting a flood of red across the CIC's holographics.
The cheap shot, taken while Hugh's scopes were blocked by the maelstrom outside, doesn't provide a return vector. It's their only cheap shot, though. Semo's breakneck tour through the ship got the PD up in time to avoid any killdrone hits. The last of the warheads pops with nary an effect.
"Sarge, talk to me," Hugh voxes. "What's your status?"
He turns to Swalni. "And what's our status? Did they hit anything vital?"
He curses under his breath. With every step, the Imperials keep taking potshots at the Liberator, but he can't fire back without massive collateral damage. On one hand, he'd really like to vaporize the bastards, maybe grab a medal for decisive action. On the other hand, medals don't help you sleep at night.
"And we still need to take that generator out," he says to nobody in particular.
"We're holed in decks 23-25," Swalni curses. "Interceptor bays are down - not important right now. The structure's holding together."
*Cargo Cult here, we've grappled the Gate and are affixing secondary lines now.* The Cult's message is punctuated with dull thumps as grappler drones land home.
*Firing grapplers.* That was You Dig, whose shipmaster evidently prefers her voxes short and to the point.
"My best guess for the generator'd be under the Spire, where else?" Haj offers. "We could try a solid penetrator shell out of the spinal accelerator. It'd be the best time to do it before your boys get too far into the city."
With the scopes now clear of debris and fire, Hugh can make out the jagged perimeter of US forces converging on the Spire's outskirts. The fighting looks pretty heavy, with Imperials using the hollow rock formations crisscrossing Boranai to hit and run. Hugh watches two mantaships flanked by Kansat dropteam skimmers attempt to break through the lines in concert with a rain of spearbombs from tunnel entrances. They're met with Stinger missiles and Apaches, but not before a golden flash erupts from the lead Abrams platoon. The sunball kills the front of the armored column's wedge formation instantly. The vanguard of Apaches veer out of control, their pilots killed or incapacitated. Secondary fireballs blossom over the arid landscape.
Three small cigar-shaped craft blast forward from the Spire. Turai personnel carriers, narrow enough to pass through a Gateway, fast enough to outpace a manta. They're making another break for it, trying to speed through the confusion and destruction sown by their martyred brothers now burning in the manta and skimmer wreckage littering the canyons.
They're already down to their second-string aircraft, is what Hugh thinks. They're cut off, with no way to call in more troops. They must not have too many military assets besides troops in the Spire. The urban fighting is going to be nasty and brutish, but on the outskirts the Earth forces have the clear advantage in numbers and firepower.
"We're not firing at the Spire," Hugh replies. "And we can't do anything here but get shot at. When the gate is secure, break orbit. And get a manta ready to launch."
Vox. "Sarge, when you're done with the point defenses, meet me in the main hangar. Our guys need boots on the ground and we're it."
Finding the second station and activating it proves as easy as expected. The codes are entered and the deed is done.
Conversely, the last point-defense console seems to be actively hiding from them. Semo and his partner search furiously for it as the countdown reaches critical levels. A half-seen blinking light finally gives away it's position and Semo stabs the keys as fast as he can to get the station online with seconds to go.
Semo watches in relief as the PD takes out the swarm of killdrones. Relief turns to shock moments later when a fiery particle beam stabs upwards and rocks the ship! Even something as big as this needleship cannot take to much more of this.
"We're fine, Captain," Semo replies, "but this ship is taking a hell of a beating. Orders?"
There is silence for a few moments, then Hugh comes back with new orders.
"Yessir! I'm tired of being a target with no effective means to hit back."
Looking over at his companion, Semo says, "Mellish, you're with me. Time to take the fight to the bastards. Let's go." Pausing for a quick check of the route to the main hangar, the big Samoan starts pulling and bouncing his way down the 0-G hallway. He's actually starting to enjoy this...
Semo and Mellish meet Hugh in the main hangar, where a freshly-fueled mantaship sits secure in its docking clamps. It's a miniature version of the berth the Morningstar rested in back on Jang-xur.
The ship shakes and settles once again, not from incoming particle beams but from its impellers pulling the enormous ship to a higher orbit. Creaks and clangs resound within the poorly-insulated hangar as the grapplers and orbital Gateway follow the Liberator's trajectory.
Swalni starts the manta's preflight from CIC; the rear hatchway opens and its running lights cycle. The interior is the same as your last manta; double rows of crashers with a three-man cockpit. The armored combat vehicle has its internal faux-grav on; everyone visibly hunches as their weight catches back up with them.
The cockpit holos are good, the preflight comes back green.
*Haj and I have a handle on the Spire's ECM, but it's gonna take both of us up here to keep ahead of 'em. Don't worry Cap, Semo can fly that thing. Remember, it WANTS to go down - you just need to tell it how fast.* Swalni's laugh connotates a fair bit of I'm glad I'm not going down there. *Her controls are freed... drop-doors are slaved to your command... and she's all yours.*
Semo comes running up, screeches to a halt and snaps a salute. "Sorry, Cap. Had a hell of a time finding a restroom in the unventilated part of this huge ship."
Sliding into the pilot's seat, Semo listens to Swalni's patter as he refamiliarizes himself with the controls. "Got it. We should be planetside in no time. Ready, Cap?"
As soon as he gets the go-ahead, Semo releases the docking clamps and fires the main thrusters. He'll go for maximum burn until they reach atmo, then back off just as much as necessary for a controlled re-entry.
"Let's go," Hugh says, checking his SCAR as the manta shudders out of the bay.
"Took a needleship, now we're gonna lead the first combined arms action on another planet. They better put our grandkids through college for this, huh, Sarge?"
"Grandkids?" Semo replies, mentally distracted for a moment. "Oh yeah. First alien home planet ever... hell, I'm thinking they better cover our great-grandkids!"
Semo returns his attention to the controls of the manta. To some extent, it seems like he's less flying this beast than just hanging on for dear life. Still, the descent seems to be mostly under control.
Meanwhile, the controls for the sunball weapon keep whispering sweet words of destruction to him...
Swalni was right; the manta definitely wants to go down. Semo's opted for the physical yokes over the namby-pamby holographics, and his knuckles are white inside his armored gloves as he half-coaxes, half-bludgeons the Imperial craft along a flightplan that won't end up burned up on atmosphere. He's chosen a partial orbit, skipping off the atmosphere in a spiral that should avoid a quick death from the Spire gunners, allowing them to rendezvous with US troops or fly in low and direct along the Spire's base. They wouldn't have to worry about particle cannon or killdrones then, only the Imperials fortifying themselves in the sprawl around the towering arcology.
The three small cigar-craft heading for the Gateport alter their course as they pick up the manta. One of them dies suddenly, shot down by an Apache with a twitchy weapons officer. The other two outdistance a SAM as they boost higher, trying to intercept Semo, Hugh, and Mellish's dropship.
"Hostiles incoming," Semo sings out as the pair of ships pull up out of the ground traffic. Time to light them up. The big Samoan finally gives into his desire to reach for the weapons array, selecting options for optimal kill ratio.
*Charlie 40, this is Hotel 6. Hostile unmanned vehicles and infantry are entrenched in the tunnel networks, heavy fire from the high ground along grid eleven. Bravo three one reports contact along southwest edge of the city in the buildings.*
Hugh sees Semo loose one of the manta's few sunball weapons. The golden orb streaks towards the oncoming Imperial ships. It detonates just starboard of one of the cigar-ships with a blinding flash. It's not visually impressive; no real explosion, no real indicators anything happened at all beyond that initial flash. Then the cigar ship starts arcing lazily back down to Boranai's surface, its weapons silent.
The second cigar unleashes a fusillade of beamer fire that whips past Semo's manta. Then there's a sudden klaxon in the cockpit - a proximity indicator and a superimposed trajectory show Semo that the cigar just missed them with an accelerator projectile. The ship's worry over the attack indicates to Semo that perhaps those weapons pose a real threat to the armored manta.
Then in a flash, the cigar ship's past Semo as he plummets his way towards the ground. The Imperial craft begins coming back around, trying to get lined up on the dropship. Semo doesn't have rear-firing accelerators, just the beam turrets now.
Gatac
