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Halastar had been staring at the main projection for over five minutes, unblinking, and his eyes were beginning to burn with the strain.
After delivering Justinius and Samir, they had orbited once to retrieve their gunship pilot and then made best speed to burn back towards their fleet that was still being engaged. The whole time they had been bombarded by Iunthor’s orbital stations and while The Fury’s shields had held, there was significant stress damage to several systems.
As the advanced sensors picked up the roiling fleet battle, Halastar realized the situation was all but settled. Three cruisers and battleship The Gauntlet had been left to face the numerically superior enemy fleet, relying on their boarding teams to seize control of the enemy vessels, and thus tip the favour of the engagement. Halastar now saw the scales had not tipped quite as far as they had hoped. Twenty-five enemy vessels had faced the four human ships when Halastar had fled the fight.
Halastar counted eight enemy vessels remaining and active. Sensor sweeps detected six wrecked enemy vessels, holed by railgun fire or blown apart by missile detonations. Nine enemy vessels sat powered down and inactive, but elsewise in perfect condition. These were the successfully boarded vessels. With their crews dead or captured, they had been powered down by the Terran Soldiers. It was unfortunate, but while most soldiers of the Terran Companies were skilled enough at ship-craft to put a ship into motion, or execute a FTL jump, none could compete with a skilled crew in ship-to-ship combat. Early in the planning stage, they had ruled out any attempt to use captured ships in combat until they had time to install qualified crew and acquaint them with the unfamiliar ships.
Halastar’s count still left him with a discrepancy of two enemy vessels. There were wrecks, no heat traces, no signatures of any kind. Halastar grimly thought he knew why. Some vessels would refuse capture, choosing instead the dignifying death of self-destruction. Internally, Halastar recited the Terran prayer for the lost, for the sixty men who had been sent to capture those vessels, only to be atomised in the nuclear fireball of a destructing reactor core.
The Terran vessels had fared better than their opponents, especially given their disadvantage, but not by much. The cruiser Malign Intent was only partially active, its engine cones flickering and stuttering as its reactor failed to provide power. The ailing cruiser was also venting atmosphere from several large hullstrikes.
The cruisers Heavenfall, and Spiteful fought a circling duel with four enemy vessels. The shots arcing back and forth between the engaging vessels sparked heavily of the two cruisers. Halastar didn’t need to consult sensor data to know the Terran cruisers were losing the battle. The Gauntlet was being engaged by five enemy vessels of varying classes. The slower vessel was swarmed, the faster enemy circling and laying in with withering fire. The Gauntlet’s shields were holding, but the situation reminded Halastar of an elderly lion, huge and majestic, harassed by wild dogs.
Doomed.
His communicator pinged, and he opened up the fleet broadcast channel.
The Fury, and its seven accompanying Terran frigates, would not let the enemy win without a fight.
“Frigate wing, maximum burn. Any enemy vessels still operating are valid targets.”
Halastar hope it wasn’t too little, too late.
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The plan they devised was relatively simple.
After their meeting, Justinius and Samir were handed back their sidearms and ushered to a waiting transport ship. As they took off, Justinius spied the dust plumes of engines cycling up. All around the military installation, gunships and transport craft were being activated. Squad leaders marched soldiers up ramps and into crew-bays.
Justinius noted something he hadn’t realized before. Amongst those Iunthorian soldiers were a not insignificant number of women. It had been hard to tell under the battle plating and war-gear before, but in the rush of their new deployment, several soldiers were missing helmets or still donning their equipment, and their faces and forms were apparent.
Justinius turned to Samir, “I didn’t realize the Survivors had women in frontline combat roles.”
He shrugged, “Everyone here pulls their weight, and with how few of us there are left it seems ill advised to cut our recruiting pool in half.”
Justinius nodded. In truth, the attitude on Terra was somewhat less liberal. Women naturally served in the military apparatus, but it was rare amongst Terran forces to see them take frontline combat roles. There was no strict rule against it, but it was exceedingly uncommon. Justnius resolved to take careful note of them in the fighting to come.
The officer, Jundal, had accompanied them in their transport. He had asked Justinius to doff his armour and wear the navy blue of the Iunthorians, but he had refused. As a concession, Justinius sat in the jump seat furthest from the exit ramp. Jundal took the closest seat to the exit, and as they brokeatmosphere Justinius spied the growing shape of the North Orbital platform. The figure grew until it exceeded the narrow-portholes field of view.
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Jundal stood and turned to address the twenty Iunthorian soldier’s crammed into the crew bay.
“I’m going to take the lead here. When I give the signal, we’re going straight to the command center. Weapons free condition. If it’s not one of us, cut it down.”
Justinius politely coughed from the back of the crewbay, his translator device informing him of the officers instructions.
Jundal laughed, “Right, my apologies. Please don’t shoot our guest. You can consider him one of us.” Jundal cocked his head dramatically, squinting his eyes in a pantomime of distrust, “For now…”
It was the soldiers' turn to laugh now. They performed their last minute checks on their weapons and gear, until they felt the soft lurch of a docking limb connecting.
The warriors stood, turning to face the exit ramp. Four especially tall Iunthorians closed ranks around Justinius, shielding him from sight.
With a hiss of airlocks unsealing, the ramp lowered and they marched out.
They proceeded into a narrow docking gantry, and through into a large staging area. The ceilings were oddly high and narrow, clearly not made for humans. The column halted slowly as they entered the staging area, and an alien voice rang out, clearly challenging them to stop.
Justinius could see little, obscured by his tall escorts, and the dialogue was too faint to be caught by his translator.
Jundal was talking to someone. The tone of the conversation was argumentative, back and forth. The soldiers to Justinius’ left and right held their rifles casually on their chest slings, but despite their efforts to disguise it, Justinius could see the tension in their bearing.
The alien voice began to yell, seemingly attempting to command Jundal. Jundal responded calmly, in a placating, hushed tone.
Then a firearm discharged with a loud report, and then, in an instant, the Iunthorians had their rifles up and firing, spreading out in a large wedge across the station floor. Justinius drew his own sidearm and rushed to find Jundal.
As the soldiers dispersed outward Justinius could see Jundal, pistol in hand, standing over the corpse of another of the lanky alien species Justinius had seen on the surface. Jundal turned, and with a grin, winked at Justinius.
“We’re going for the command center, don’t fall behind.”
Jundal led Justinius and Samir along behind the main assault. The Iunthorians were vicious, cutting down enemy security teams with bursts of fully automatic fire. They were certainly effective, but Justinius noted another difference between their two cultures. Terran doctrine emphasized effective application of force, controlled and direct. The Iunthorians cut down their enemies with an almost gleeful abandon. Teams worked fluidly, with none of the rigidly drilled movements that the Terran companies applied. There were no hand-signals or radio communications. Instead they screamed and yelled commands at their comrades. Several times during the running battle, the Iunthorians stepped over their dead or wounded comrades. Those wounded men not able to continue drew sidearms, and the passing soldiers handed off spare magazines and grenades to these men, so that they might better slow the enemy response before they inevitably died.
Justinius and Samir took a backseat role, guarding the rear of the advance and watching carefully to ensure no harm came to Jundal. At one bulkhead intersection, three Iunthorian’s immediately in front of Jundal were cut down by a fusilade from the left. Justinius quickly wrenched Jundal back, and tucked him into cover. Turning the corner, Justinius raised his pistol to return fire.
A squad of the lanky aliens were bearing down on him, charging his position, and before he could get a shot off, the lead alien barrelled into him and knocked him off his feet. Samir turned the corner and dropped two of the aliens with pinpoint fire before he himself was tackled and wrestled to the ground.
The alien was on top of Justinius now, its slit nostrils flaring widely as it hammered its overlarge fists down on his chest and helmet. Justinius caught the attackers arms, but its strength was prodigious. His power-armour assisted strength was barely enough to restrain the being’s hands as they strained to take hold of his helmet.
A trio of Iunthorian soldiers, hearing the commotion in the rear-guard turned to assist. The two remaining aliens not engaged in the grappling match opened up on them. In the exchange, both aliens were cut down, for the price of two of the three troopers.
The last remaining soldier, not daring to fire into the melee, drew a short combat blade and rushed in. At a sprint, they plunged the blade into the side of the alien grappling Justinius. With an inhuman scream, the alien lashed out one handed at the trooper. The blow sent the soldier flying across the deck, and into the far wall. The distraction had been enough. Justinius, one hand freed, reached down and drew his own blade. He thrust upwards with the blade, and tore it lengthways. Alien ichor and organs spilled out and the alien toppled off Justinius.
Getting to his feet, Justinius recovered his pistol and executed the hostile grappling with Samir.
“You can come out now, Jundal” He called.
The unamoured form of Jundal stepped back around the bulkhead where he had been stashed.
Justinius strode over to the troopers who had assisted him. The two who had been struck by energy fire were dead, charred and eviscerated, but the knife wielding one was alive. Their helmet was cracked and the visor shattered, and the impact with the steel wall had rendered them unconscious. Justinius grabbed the soldier, and slung them over his shoulder.
“Jundal, lead us on.”
The officer lead them onwards, and by the time they caught up with the main advance, the control room was secure.
Iunthorian soldiers stood at control panels, madly making adjustments and checking displays. Jundal strode up to the central command station, and shoved the soldier there aside. He placed his authorisation key against the reader, and the station sparked into life.
The officer activated his comm, “All teams, report status.”
Jundal nodded silently as he received his reports, then turned to Justinius.
“We’ve got all twenty six.”, He reported, “Shall I?”
Justinius nodded his affirmation.
Jundal turned and typed briefly at the station, then issued a command.
“Teams one through twenty-five, launch and rendezvous at checkpoint one.”
Through the observation windows, Justinius saw a fleet pull away from the station. Twenty-five ships, their engine cones glowing a blue-white.
Jundal turned to Justinius. “I left ship twenty-six for us. Unless you’d rather stay here?”