The snow softly crunched under Matt's torso as he lay prone and wriggled ever-so-slowly forward. It wasn’t hunting season, so he felt safe wearing some of his old winter camo gear which he'd dug out of storage. Such garb was definitely preferable to safety-orange when one was sneaking up on some nefarious types. As far as offensive capability went, he had his dad's pistol holstered at his right hip and a rifle slung across his back.
One thing was for sure; whoever these interlopers were, their fieldcraft sucked massive donkey balls. He'd picked up their tracks down at the trailhead with ease and stalked them alongside the well-trampled snowy trail to this position. The three men were none the wiser that he was there at all; many times he’d had the opportunity to shoot all of them to pieces within seconds. But that wasn’t his goal. Or, at least, it wasn’t his goal today.
Today, he just wanted to scare the ever-loving shit out of them. Hopefully in a literal manner.
Matt's eyes just peered over a fallen log which provided some decent cover; his current position lay about three hundred yards from the campsite. He saw those same three figures huddled over a campfire, but from here he couldn’t figure out what they were up to.
He could only see so much with the naked eye from this distance. Matt carefully thought through the steps needed to get his binoculars out and ready, and figured there was little chance of any warning glint from the sun now high overhead. He reached into a pouch at his left hip and very slowly pulled out his binoculars. It took a good five minutes for him to complete the action, but thanks to Matt's prior training he could teach patience to rocks. He got the binoculars to his eyes, eventually, and performed another careful scan of the clearing.
The trio bustled around the campfire as they unpacked their gear. It looked like he’d come up on them before they’d started the cook, which was good. That timing would make this next part that much easier.
__________
Declan dug into his backpack and retrieved a double-handful of large matchboxes. He set them onto the nearby blue tarp spread out over the snow. He wished for the thousandth time that it was summer. That would make this whole exercise seem like more like a nice walk in the woods instead of a lesson in how to avoid hypothermia.
Next to him, the bundled-up but still skinny figure of Vincente rooted through his own pack, coming out with a much more precious bit of cargo, namely boxes upon boxes of over-the-counter cold medication. That particular bounty came from a lot of tedious ‘smurfing’ by multiple peons to various pharmacies, each buying the legal (and paltry) number of boxes available from each location.
On the other side of Declan loomed the much larger figure of Harvey, who was in the middle of laying out his own set of supplies plus the cookware itself. Declan found the bigger man to be a bit of an enigma; rumor had it he’d been a hitman for one of the larger mobs in Phoenix before some unfortunate incident made him pull up stakes and head for Colorado. Harvey didn’t say much, which suited Declan just fine. Vincente talked enough for the three of them anyway. Declan suspected that the rail-thin bastard was using their product. Thus far it didn’t seem to impact his ability in ‘cooking’, but if the idiot’s usage got worse Declan might also decide to head for greener pastures. Vincente was brother to Declan’s notoriously unstable boss, and thus was immune to getting kicked out or simply killed for being a dumbass junkie.
“All right! Let’s get this show on the road!” Vincente rubbed his hands together. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to someplace warm.”
Harvey gave a neutral grunt and stood, then froze. His dark eyes remained fixed on the edge of the clearing as his body remained tense. Declan followed Harvey’s gaze and felt his guts clench.
A tall and lean man, wearing a mottled white snowsuit, stood just inside the line of trees. His face was mostly obscured by a white mask; the only part of him that showed was two dark eyes. Those eyes matched the black rifle which he had up to his shoulder and now aimed at the three of them.
“Mornin’, folks!” said the intruder with an overly chipper tone. “Whatcha up to? Oh, and before you answer put your hands on top of your heads and keep ‘em there. Or else I’ll shoot y’all.”
Declan had a revolver stuck in his waistband at the small of his back. He thought really hard about trying a quick-draw but, after another look at the rock-steady rifle muzzle facing them, he decided against it. Instead, he placed his shaking hands on top of his scalp.
Harvey must have come to the same conclusion, since the big man said nothing and settled his hands onto his own bald dome as instructed.
“We’re just, ah, camping!” said Vincente with false cheer. He’d put his hands on his head as well, but he also had a twitchiness in one of his legs that Declan didn’t like at all. “What’ the big deal? This is public land, we got a right to be here.”
The newcomer chuckled as he walked forward into the clearing, using a strange gliding gait which made sure his weapon stayed steady as a rock. “If you were just camping, I would agree with ya. But since you’re making the shit that I know you’re making, I’m pretty sure the law ain’t on your side.” He nodded his chin towards the supplies set out on the tarp. “That looks like the fixings for what y’all call a ‘Red White and Blue’ cook, am I right? I’ve been doing a little bit of online reading on the subject after I found all the crap you left behind the last time.”
The latter statement made Vincente give a guilty glance over at his two companions. Declan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Vincente’s lack of control; instead, he focused his attention like a laser on the hole at the end of the intruder’s rifle barrel. It seemed unfair that such a small hole could be held responsible for such a monumental thing as being allowed to live the rest of his ‘normal’ life.
“See, ordinarily I wouldn’t give two shits about this,” continued the stranger. “But there was a guy I knew a while back. His name was Horace, nice fella. Helluva lot nicer than me, that’s for fuckin’ sure. He was built like a goddamn tank, he could lift me over his head with one damned arm no problem. But while he was in, Horace saw some shit he couldn’t deal with. He still couldn’t deal with it even after he got out. So, one of the best men I’ve ever known turned to self-medicating. Horace used meth as his medicine of choice. When he died he weighed maybe a buck-ten. Had two teeth left in his head, and he was skinny enough that for once I could lift him with one damned arm.”
The intruder stopped about ten yards away from the trio. “Even so, I know he wouldn’t want me to kill any of ya. Like I said, best guy I ever knew. So. In honor of Horace I’m gonna be nice. You three? Y’all get lost and y’all stay lost. If I so much as SMELL you coming back here, I will shoot each of you in the head and you will never see the bullets coming. I’ll leave your bodies for the coyotes. Maybe somebody will find your bones in the spring. Maybe.” Those black eyes drilled into Declan. “Do you feel me, you shitstains?”
Declan nodded hastily, while Harvey gave a single nod. Vincente let out a shaky breath; the vapor from that exhale hung above the trio like a flag of surrender. The skinny man bent to collect the boxes of medication.
The ice-cold voice of their ambusher stopped Vincente in mid-bend. “No. I’m only giving you three a pass. You leave your shit behind.”
To Declan’s horror Vincente decided to talk back. The smaller man straightened up and glared at their ambusher. “No! This is our stuff, you can’t steal it!”
“You think I’m a thief?” The masked ambusher raised an amused eyebrow. “Rest easy, jackass. I’m not going into business for myself. I’m just gonna flush that shit down the toilet. Consider it a fine for littering.”
“Just drop it,” growled Declan. “Let’s go.” He looked over at Harvey for moral support, but as usual Harvey showed no expression.
Before Declan could blink Vincente jittering leg locked against the ground, and he shot towards the masked man. Declan existed within a horrible, frozen moment in time where he was sure he’d hear a gunshot as the ambusher shot Vincente in the gut. But instead, the masked man sidestepped Vincente’s clumsy charge as, quick as a snake, he whipped the butt of his rifle up and into Vincente’s face.
Declan winced as a nasty crunching sound echoed through the trees around them. Vincente flopped onto his side like a sack of cement, then clasped his hands over his ruined nose and let out a hoarse, muffled scream as blood began to trickle through his fingers.
The man with the rifle already had the stock of his weapon settled back against his shoulder, covering both Declan and Harvey with ease. Now there was nothing but a machine-like concentration in his eyes. It was like staring into the eyes of a shark.
“Fucking idiots,” said their ambusher. “Now you’ve officially used up my last bit of give-a-fuck.” His voice was just as severe as his eyes. “I could have shot him deader than dogshit. You both know that. Now you all get. The Fuck. Out. Of Here.”
Declan had dealt with a lot of dangerous people…hell, in some ways he was a dangerous person himself. But he was also smart enough to know when he was utterly outclassed. If they tried anything this guy would drill the three of them within three seconds and then go home and sleep like a baby. Declan very slowly raised his hands off of his head, making sure to show that his palms were empty. “We’ll make ourselves scarce. Just let me get him on his feet.” He motioned his head towards the writhing man on the ground. “Please?”
The ambusher nodded and stepped back as Declan moved forward. He leaned down and gripped Vincente’s shoulders, making the latter twitch and give another muffled yell of pain. Declan ignored it. “Stand up, my man, we gotta go, right?” Between his pleading and some pulling Declan managed to get Vincente on his feet; the guy was even lighter than he expected. Declan wondered again if the idiot was hitting his own product. He steered Vincente towards Harvey, who still stood motionless with his hands clasped on his head. The big man stared at the intruder with a matching machine-like intensity.
“Come on,” murmured Declan. “Let’s get while the gettin’s good.” After a minor eternity, Harvey gave only a single nod. Declan began wading along the snow-covered trail back the way they’d come, all the while steering the moaning figure of Vincente in front of him. He felt the comforting thumping tread of Harveys’ feet behind him, and as they regained the main trail Declan risked one look back.
There was nobody there. Declan wasn’t fooled for one minute, though. He knew the bastard would be shadowing them all the way back to the car.
__________
Ten hours later the wardroom of the Rithro once again held the entire crew, but this time the mood was a lot more subdued.
“Using the added baseline imaging from our drones, this is the best picture we have of the wounded Breaker.” Captain Sadaf pointed at the center of the main display. Their quarry now stood out in much starker detail, showing the general form of a large central sphere with ten long arms extending backwards from its equator. Multiple gashes ran along the skin of the sphere, and the edges of those injuries were torn and jagged. Quite a few of the arms ended in broken stumps. Data overlays indicated the size of the thing; the Breaker’s hull was thirty kilometers long from tip to tail.
“Looks like it took quite the pounding,” mused Takh. “But from what?”
“Unknown,” said Nadash. “It’s possible that this wreck is the result of an ancient skirmish between the Breakers and our sponsors. Unfortunately, I can’t receive any proper information at the moment, of course. We’re too far from Coalition territory for a direct connection.”
“How this frinxing thing got here is, at the moment, irrelevant,” said Sadaf. “The good news is that it’s so damaged we actually have a chance to kill it.” She nodded towards Nadash. “Your turn.”
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The Exalted crewmember nodded politely and gestured at the display. Several of the Breaker’s arms lit up at her motion. “The radiator panels on these extensions are warmer than the rest of the Breaker, which means that its reactor is still active. It’s still alive. But Grakosh and I have made calculations based on that radiated power. Those calculations indicate that the Breaker’s power output is a lot less than even if its reactor was in a normal standby mode. It’s possible that there isn’t even enough stored energy available for any weaponry.”
The display then zoomed out to show their position relative to the Breaker. The Exalted’s dispassionate voice continued. “But we have to assume at least some of its point defense and even long-range weapons are still functional. The best way to achieve a kill will be to get one of our lance-missiles deep into one of those hull breaches. If we can then detonate the missile while its warhead is aimed at the Breaker’s reactor core… that’ll shut it down for sure.”
“We don’t have enough lance-missiles to guarantee that any will get past its point defenses. If they’re still active, of course.” said Takh.
Sadaf nodded her horns. “Which is why our backup plan is to get close enough to fire aimed shots out of our spinal railgun. With that salvo, we can test how active its defenses are before committing any of our missiles.”
The rest of the crew shifted in unease, but no one spoke.
The captain clasped her hands behind her back. In spite of being one of the smallest there, she gave the impression of towering over them all. “I know this is a frightening notion. I’d like nothing more than to stand off at a safe distance and let our missiles pound that evil thing into oblivion. But we need to do this and do it right. We all signed up for the CEB knowing that one day we might head out into the Deep Black and never make it back. Today? Today just might be the day that happens. But I swear by the sacred Ancient Mothers that I will do everything in my power to get us home.”
She turned back to the screen. “Now here’s our current battle-plan. Feel free to sing out if you see anything that needs changing…”
__________
At this particular moment, Declan was thinking really hard about moving to greener pastures. He shrank back in his chair, away from a squat and broad-shouldered man with a severe narrow visage and a close-shaved head. Javier Venegas was known for many things, but an easy-going nature was not one of them.
“You get a good look at that puta?” Javier asked in a near-whisper. His pinched face was set in a neutral expression which was worse than any snarl.
Declan shook his head. “No, he…he had a mask on. Plus he was wearing some kind of white snowsuit.”
“The snowsuit looked military,” said Harvey. He leaned against one concrete wall of what could generously be called Javier’s ‘office’. Vincente huddled next to him, sniffling through a crude splint over his nose.
Javier straightened up, shifting his furious glare to Harvey. “You shut the fuck up. You were supposed to protect my hermano, not let him get his nose smashed in!”
Harvey shrugged one shoulder, still calm in the face of his boss’ anger. “What can I say? That shithead got the drop on us before I saw him coming.”
“That’s right, man,” said Declan. “Fucker came out of nowhere! Besides, Vince was dumb enough to run at him…”
Javier spun and backhanded Declan hard enough to almost knock him out of the chair. “You shut the fuck up too, bastardo.” He walked over and squatted on his heels next to Vincente. The skinny man looked up at Javier, then down at the floor.
“I tried to get the medicine back,” said Vincente.
“Don’t worry, hermano,” replied Javier. He laid a comforting hand on Vincente’s shoulder. “We’ll find this puta and feed him his own balls. Okay?”
In spite of his newly-throbbing face Declan felt the need to protest. “Wait, we’re going after him?”
Javier stood up. “You got a problem with that?”
“I just want to understand why. We can find another place to cook.”
The gang leader began walking back towards Declan, making the latter man scrunch himself into his chair. “Cook with what?” demanded Javier. “Your mystery pendejo stole all of our shit.”
Declan held out his palms to placate Javier. “I know. I’ll get my people doing store runs again. Two weeks tops, we’ll be back in business.”
Javier stopped next to Declan’s chair. He crossed his arms and snorted. “Two weeks, eh? Two weeks with no product to sell. Nothin’ in our pipeline, no money comin’ in. This masked motherfucker might as well have helped himself to my wallet.” He pointed towards Vincente. “And he went and spilled my family’s blood. So yeah, we’re going after him. I’m gonna use his fucking corpse to send a message to any other fucking do-gooders out there.”
__________
In preparation for sustained high-g maneuvering, the Rithro’s acceleration couches now resembled sarcophagi rather than simple furniture. Captain Sadaf’s eyes scanned the display hovering above her in her own fluid-filled pod. That fluid pressed her pressure suit tight to her body and would act as a supporting cushion if the Rithro needed to vector into some other direction in a real big hurry. A molded polymer mouthguard pressed against her teeth, which would hopefully prevent her from biting off her own tongue during any emergency thrust. Her gloves rested in foam-covered controls, allowing her to change displays or even pilot the ship with only the slightest twitch of her fingers.
Her tactical display now showed their own blip in comparison to the much larger Breaker. Thanks to much effort by Tofa, the screen also showed an ovoid area of space nearby which was shaded in blue. This indicated the jump point to the newly discovered sapient’s home system.
Kifa’s voice sounded in her ears. “Flip and burn in thirty seconds.”
“Still no visible activity from the Breaker,” said Nadash. “We should be well inside its detection zone by now.”
They needed to almost match orbits with the injured Breaker; burning past it at high acceleration would only allow for one or two aimed shots. Therefore, at the moment the Rithro’s engines pushed her at the ship’s standard acceleration directly towards the Breaker. Once the ship was in effective aiming range of her spinal railgun, they’d flip and decelerate. The weapon extended the entire length of the ship and could shoot backwards just as efficiently as forwards.
“Takh, weapon status,” said Sadaf. She didn’t really ‘talk’ so much as ‘subvocalize’ thanks to her mouthpiece. But the microphone at her throat captured her voice with the appropriate aplomb and transmitted it to the rest of the crew.
“Everything’s nominal, Captain. Ready to fire. How big of a spread do you want for the first salvo?”
“Ten shots, seven hundred meters pattern width. If it does use its point defense system, I want to get some idea of its current effectiveness.”
“Fifteen seconds, then.”
Sadaf took a deep breath and willed herself to relax. Achieving the latter wasn’t easy; auhn were wired to find action more desirable than waiting around. But she’d planned as best she could, and now it was all down to her crew doing the best that they could.
“Five seconds…four…three…two…flip!”
The ‘gravity’ caused by the Rithro’s acceleration abruptly ended; the entire ship then lurched as if it had just toppled off of a cliff. Sadaf’s innards protested at the sudden movement, but the speed of this turn was necessary. After all, this maneuver exposed their lightly-armored flanks to the Breaker.
“Flip complete, deceleration set to that of double standard cruise.”
Sadaf felt weight return, but not welcome weight. It was now an effort to breathe. She followed her training and tightened her core muscles to keep her blood flowing where it needed to go.
Takh’s voice was as dry as asteroid dust. “Firing first salvo.” The ship shook again, much more slightly this time, as their cannon’s first shot left the rearward muzzle.
Sadaf switched her view to the ship’s rear cameras. A series of glowing streaks erupted from below her viewpoint; the cannon’s ammunition consisted of depleted-uranium rods one meter in length. In spite of the weapon’s ultra-high efficiency, enough of its energy bled into the rods to heat them to white-hot temperatures before they left the muzzle.
She watched the glowing pattern of dots recede into the distance towards the Breaker. Their target was still invisible at this distance, and only a helpful indicator on the display allowed her to see its position.
“No activity yet from the Breaker,” said Nadash.
Sadaf felt one of her horns twitch in nervous anticipation. She called on her training and made a conscious effort to breathe; it was possible to forget to concentrate on breathing in the heat of combat, especially when under high-g. That lapse, in turn, could result in a disastrous fainting spell right when the ship’s captain was most needed.
“First salvo is now six hundred ninety kilometers to target,” said Takh. “Our distance to target is eight hundred kilometers.”
“Nadash?” snapped Sadaf, a little more forcefully than she’d intended to.
In contrast, the Exalted’s voice was as smooth as ever. “Still no increase in infrared output from our target.”
Another seemingly endless period of labored and mindful breathing followed, from all of the crewmembers.
“First salvo is now three hundred eighty kilometers to target. Our distance to target is six hundred kilometers.”
Sadaf’s fingers twitched as she called up the missile-targeting display. “I’m setting up an initial firing solution for the missiles. We’ll launch four at first, and have them approach from multiple angles.” She used their current best-resolution image to let the ship’s weapons know what to aim at. Once they were inside the Breaker’s hull, the lance-missiles would lock onto the largest energy source and explode. The warhead’s shaped nuclear charge would then vaporize an onboard plug of graphene propellant to create a jet of ravening nuclear fire. The resulting destructive lance of blazing plasma should excise this particular cancer from the galactic neighborhood.
“Salvo is two hundred twenty kilometers to target. Our distance is five hundred six kilometers.”
“And I still see no activity from the Breaker,” added Nadash.
The Captain began to feel a little bit of hope. Maybe the evil thing’s power output was now far too low for any sort of evasive maneuvers or point-defense. If so, their first salvo might do the trick and destroy it. Each round from the Rithro’s cannon contained enough kinetic energy to vaporize a small city.
Her hope dried up and vanished upon Nadash’s next words. “I’m seeing a reaction. The Breaker’s IR output has increased.”
“Is the Breaker firing on our salvo?”
“No. I’m seeing small point IR sources. Maneuvering thrusters, I believe? Yes, that appears to be the case. The Breaker is turning.”
Takh’s dry tone didn’t change. “Orders, Captain?”
Sadaf felt a surge of pride at her XO’s calm demeanor. She would put her crew up against any in the Coalition. “Maintain our course for the moment. Nadash, is the Breaker’s main drive powering up?” She sucked in a breath from her mask with effort. “Is it going to perform an evasion maneuver?”
The Exalted paused before replying. “Unclear. I do see some increased energy around the main engine nozzle, so perhaps it’s going to try and dodge our salvo.”
Sadaf called up a magnified image of the Breaker. The bottom of the ruined sphere started to slowly point in their direction, and even in that pixelated image she could just make out the giant nozzle of the Breaker’s massive main fusion engine.
Maybe it was trying to run away? No, Breakers didn’t run. They kept coming until you pounded them into scrap. Was it going to try and hurt them with its engine exhaust? The Rithro was too far away for such a diffuse plume to do more than heat up their hull slightly…
The Captain’s eyes widened. She now knew exactly what this evil thing was planning. Her scream sounded out, echoing in her pod. “KIFA! VECTOR TO NINE-TWO-SEVEN AND SET SHIP TO EMERGENCY BURN!”
To its credit the xyrax pilot didn’t waste any time in asking the Captain ‘why’. The ship made another sickening lurch, after which Sadaf finally knew true pain. It felt like the entire ship now sat on her chest, making each of her breaths a stabbing agony. She drew in a shallow breath to speak again.
“Takh…if we pass out…you have the conn.”
As if to spite her pained gasping, Takh’s voice sounded just like normal. “Understood, Captain.” The udhyr were more susceptible to jump fugue, but thanks to their homeworld’s higher gravity they were second to none at handling this type of high gee acceleration.
On her screen a few brief pulses of light shone out.
“Our…first salvo is…destroyed,” said Takh. “The Breaker’s point-defense system still fully active. Captain…why are we…evading?”
“I’d like…to…know that…too…!” gasped Grakosh.
Sadaf drew in another shallow yet still burning breath. “Breaker…turned itself into…massive lance-missile…detonates its reactor…next to…giant plug of some graphene it’s synthesized…”
For the first time the Captain could remember, Nadash sounded distressed. “That…is a possible strategy…Captain, the effective range…of such a weapon is…thousands of kilometers. The resulting beam would reach us in less than a second. We can’t…run away in time.”
Sadaf agreed. They couldn’t outrun the oncoming beam of atomic death, they had to instead dodge sideways and hope to keep out of the weapon’s path. She didn’t waste any extra breath in replying, instead she called up the three-dimensional tactical view again. The sight almost made her despair.
Their sideways acceleration had bought perhaps another minute, but the simple geometry of the situation still made it hopeless. The Breaker could aim its improvised atomic lance at a much greater radial speed than they could hope to match with their own linear acceleration; it was just a matter of time before the muzzle of its improvised weapon pointed right at them.
She considered launching the pre-programmed missiles, but that was pointless. The Breaker was going to kill itself anyway when it detonated its reactor, and her missiles couldn’t possibly reach it in time to save them. Her eyes darted around the screen as if the answer to their plight could be hidden in some corner of the display.
It was then she noted that they were very close to entering the jump point leading into the native’s system. In spite of the pain wracking her body she felt a moment of triumph. “Tofa! Prep the…jump drive! Jump as…soon as…feasible…”
The astrogator didn’t protest either. Sadaf’s concentration narrowed as she focused on the little, fragile blip of the Rithro while it ever-so-slowly inched towards the blue-shaded zone of salvation. On the other side of her display, its magnified view of the Breaker showed that the thing’s engine nozzle was now almost pointed directly at them.
“Preparing…for…jump!” yelled Tofa.
The Rithro’s engines shut off, and in the merciful weightlessness Sadaf shut her eyes and made a silent prayer to the Ancient Mothers. The all-too-familiar shudder of an oncoming jump began, and Sadaf was seized with a bout of fresh agony as her vessel was torn from the fabric of normal spacetime. But that was not before a larger, less gentle shudder reverberated through the ship.
Just as the Rithro jumped, the mammoth atomic beam from the dying Breaker hit a glancing blow upon her rear armor.