Captive Galaxy 1: The Bellerophon: Ambush Read online

  "Wishful thinking, Kyler. Time's of the essence," Wray said. "What do we have that can stop them?"

  "Beta, blocking on the other side near medical, will have nothing even close that'll stop those Ogres. That heavy ferro-ceramic armor is a bitch to crack. Most anything that can touch it would over pressure the area, severely damage the internals of the ship, and probably pop the hull if we're too close to an exterior bulkhead. Personnel nearby in anything less than a light battlesuit won't withstand the pressures. We'd be better off venting the ship ourselves so there aren't pressure injuries with our guys. But all that doesn't matter a damn, Boss."

  "Why is that, Bachman?" Wray asked.

  "Because we don't have anything on board with that firepower anyway. We're fucked," Bachman answered.

  *****

  Minutes Earlier

  Stims coursed and burned through the veins of the abruptly awakened Ogre heavy battlesuit wearing mercenaries. The feeling was not at all pleasant. The chemical stimulants seared their brains. Their vision blurred from the pain. Being fully enclosed in the tight fitting suit was helpful and yet maddening at the same time. Helpful in that it did not allow for the terrible scratching and tearing away of flesh that would have occurred had the ferro-ceramic shell not encased the mercs. It was maddening because you were so close...but could do nothing but try to push through it. It was no wonder that the stims used to quick revive soldiers from stasis also resulted in the "berserker effect." They fought with the rage and ferocity of a cornered animal as the stims, mixed with natural adrenaline, were released into the blood stream of the human animal.

  Vance Laaken was one royally pissed off, and just recently, unemployed merc. His communications suite had just processed and translated an encrypted message received by the laser receiver array affixed to the tail of the boarding arrow, which by design, was sticking out into vacuum of space. From the decoded message he had learned that the Cassius, formerly a Vulture class frigate in service as a privateer, and his ride home, was now no more than a collection of ballistic garbage drifting through space as nothing more than a navigational hazard for an alien race a 1,000-light years away. An interstellar time capsule of man or a golden BB of disaster.

  Laaken was low-level management for the Cassius operation. He led a small team and nothing more. His boss told him exactly what he needed to know when he needed to know it. And he was fine with this. He didn't inquire why they were sitting in this particular position in space for the last couple days. He had heard through the rumor mill, something he rarely paid mind to, that they were positioned is this very specific spot in anticipation of ambushing a ship from a rival outfit. He didn't know why. And again, he didn't care. It was a paycheck and he'd do what he was directed to do. No questions asked...up to a point of course.

  The information contained in the laser beamed flash message also confirmed that the two follow-on boarding arrows launched by the Cassius were destroyed shortly after launching to assault the obsolete fast cruiser where Laaken and his team now found themselves. There was no further information or telemetry from his ship of course, and since there appeared to be no heavy maneuvering by the fast cruiser, it all but confirmed to Vance that it was just him and his two other mercs.

  An experienced chess player would look at the board and see that the game was over and surrender their king. Laaken and his fellow mercs were not chess players.

  The three Ogre heavy battlesuits had completed draining the acceleration gel. Gel that had been pumped into the oversized acceleration couches and into the battlesuits themselves while the mercs dozed in near stasis, ready for the boarding arrow to be snap-fired upon the fast acquisition of a target pulled from transit space. Now the deck of the disposable retrofitted anti-ship missile was awash with the thick slimy substance. If not for the magnetic boots of the heavy powered suits the trio would be slipping and sliding about. All three mercs showed green across all system minus telemetry feeds with their controlling ship, which of course they knew to be no more.

  The trio quickly formulated a plan after the sensor data from the boarding arrow had been downloaded and disseminated amongst them. They learned their approximate position on the target, and reviewed the schematics on file for the old Yukon class fast cruiser that was the Bellerophon. It was understood that their schematics may not be entirely accurate because the Yukon class, like many ships built during the A.I. War, had corners cut and significant alterations made on the fly so the warship could be launched and commissioned. Rarely did trials last longer than an afternoon, the craft were needed so promptly.

  The Yukon's were really nothing more than two system patrol craft, the size of a destroyer, joined together with an interstellar engine and powerplant setup welded to the aft of the bastard conglomeration. A unified shell of armor was then applied to the ship that succeeded in two things. First, it obviously offered a medium level of protection via the steel plate and ferro-ceramics. And second, it offered the unholy joining of the two hulls a modicum of streamlined aesthetic.

  With their situation and position understood they now itched for combat. The stims really doing a number on their nervous systems. It was time for the orphaned merc team to spring into action. Laaken, along with Oleg Petrov, would head forward with the aim of reaching the environmental control station. They would vent and purge the ship of atmosphere, making a complete takeover of the ship far more achievable. If they could not make it to the environmental controls, because they were too heavily defended or simply were not where they were supposed to be according to the schematics on hand, they would then move to take the bridge buried in the bow of the ship. While this was the primary and secondary objective of the team, the tertiary goal would be attempted by Angelo Dixon, who would be heading aft towards the engineering and propulsion spaces. His mission was a wild card. Dixon was primarily meant to act as a diversion, but if he was in fact able to take engineering alone, all sorts of option would become available. He who controlled engineered controlled the destiny of the ship.

  Standing in a line of three in the cramped space at the bow amidships of the boarding arrow capsule, they were now ready to jump off on their desperate assault.

  Laaken popped the portside hatch, and as he swung the hatch up and out, Petrov standing immediately behind him engaged the heavy jamming unit attached to his heavily armored exoskeleton frame. An electronic snap clicked in their wireless headsets as their communication systems automatically synched to the select channels of alternating preprogrammed frequencies let be by the heavy jammer. Despite the channel being left unmolested by the jammer, a slight hum with the occasional whistle and click could be heard through the headsets. The heavy military grade jammer would make a tremendous difference in hampering the communications, command, and control of the crew.

  The hatch now open, Laaken stepped forward into the boarded ship and fired a double canister of smoke and tear gas down the corridor before him. Thick acrid smoke quickly filled the confined space. Thermal imagers of all three Ogres confirmed that the corridor and immediate area was empty of opposition. The team of Laaken and Petrov clomped forward on heavy magnetic boots towards their goal of the environmental control station while Dixon detached from the group, entered a side cabin to begin his own mission taking him aft in the direction of the engineering spaces. Unbeknownst to the team leader Laaken, the lone wolf Dixon was more deeply affected by the stims burning through his system than usual.

  Dixon was heading off, his mind formulating his own agenda, which would impact the destiny of everyone on the ship.

  Chapter 12:

  Time: 16:40 (Zulu)

  "This sucks!" Takashi yelled to no one in particular. Normally, at the volume he was voicing his displeasure, his voice would easily have echoed about via cave-like acoustics of the corridor. With his vacsuit sealed, and his helmet closed-up to guard against loss of atmosphere, and to protect against the effects of smoke and tear gas employment by the boarders, only Darius standing immediately alongside him
could hear his friends muffled complaint.

  Darius leaned over and gestured for Takashi to pop his visor. Takashi obliged the request with shaking hands.

  "Tak, take it easy," Darius said. "Don't worry. Control the controllables. Don't let what they might do concern you. Only worry about what you can and will do. Trust yourself, brother. Trust your instincts. Watch my back and I'll watch yours. It's all good."

  Takashi looked at the sure and smiling face of his friend and he felt himself filled with something greater than false confidence. Not a lot...but some was better than none.

  "Okay. Okay. But what the hell are we going to do against heavies? I may not know a lot about this kinda thing," he said as he gestured to the light plasma carbine in his hand and then to the rest of the team around them, "but I know we're not equipped to fight off heavy armor."

  Darius completely agreed but to say so would only undermine the work of propping up Takashi.

  "We just need to slow 'em down, Tak. They'll most likely be making for environmental or the bridge. We just need to delay them until the Captain comes up with a plan or they make a mistake, like walk into some of those mines Bachman and Van Vorst are setting up," Darius explained trying to continue with the same tone of assurance as before.

  Bachman, the team leader, had figured that the boarders would come down this specific corridor because, as the faded blue paint line on the deck at their feet indicated, the path to life support and environmental control lead along this path. Weapon discharges could now be heard nearby, to reverberate down the corridor. Darius suspected that the boarders were destroying surveillance systems as they moved forward in case the sensors and cameras were still able to function despite the heavy jamming they were employing in their assault. The cacophonous sounds were getting louder and louder as the bearers of the hostile energy weapons approached, lending credence to Bachman's assumption that trouble would be heading their way.

  Takashi silently and solemnly nodded to Darius and returned his attention to the corridor. The sounds of the approaching weapon fire charging the air with energy and eroding the confidence he had momentarily built. He nervously checked the power indicator on the side of the receiver of the unfamiliar weapon. A manic action repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time since they set up this crude blocking position. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had arrived at the portside armory after discovering the boarding arrow blocking the path to medical.

  Takashi's head still ached terribly.

  The terribly ugly blockade the team sheltered behind had been built from materials haphazardly gathered. A great majority of the bulwarks was made up of standard storage containers that seemed to collect and reproduce on their own in the corridors of most any space craft of the day. Several of the containers had come loose from their semi secured tie-downs in the immediate area due to the violence of the recent evasive maneuvers conducted by the Belle'. Elbow grease had swiftly created the expedient defensive position.

  Darius and Takashi were arranged high and low along the hullside bulkhead behind their cover, and mirroring this formation, across the suddenly very crowded corridor, was their friend and experienced fighter Jason. There was little doubt that he was enjoying the current state of affairs because he was too dumb not to. An previously unknown crewman, an oddly named engineer, Fiero Langston, was teamed with Jason. Langston appeared much more uneasy than Takashi, which after a quick glance and observation by Takashi, actually made him feel better about himself and improved his morale a notch.

  Of the four in position, only Jason Petty was in a suit fit for combat, having secured a light battlesuit that was in the armory for maintenance. The fit was somewhat tight but it was close enough that he discovered he could use the familiar ensemble. It certainly afforded him better protection than the emergency vacsuits adorned by Langston, Darius, and Takashi.

  A slight vibration, growing in intensity, was now felt through the steel grates of the deck.

  Fingers tensely moved from trigger guards to triggers as the four prepared to fire their energy weapons. Safeties clicked off almost in unison.

  A hand holding a small object stuck out from around the corner at the end of the long corridor. The only reason why the sudden appearance of the black gloved hand wasn't immediately met with red bolts of plasma was that it was somewhat expected. Three flashes of green light emanated from the object in the gloved hand. The object in question was a small detachable tactical light, carried as part of the common kit of the Belle's boarding team. Here the device was used as a signal to the Alpha defenders to momentarily stand down as friendlies entered the kill zone. Fingers returned to trigger guards and held breaths were exhaled, the exhales quiet in the corridor, but loud locally within each of the sealed vacsuits.

  The two dark forms of Bachman and Van Vorst slipped around the corner and swiftly returned to their teams line, their rushed mine laying mission complete. The laying of mines had been a rather delicate operation. They needed to be positioned in just the right spot so that damage to any nearby systems vital to the Belle' would be minimized upon detonation of the proximity triggered explosives. Also, special care need be had while selecting the amount of explosives to lay because of the possibility of over excessive pressure which could damage any of the nearby lightly armored and thin skinned vacsuits worn by the Belle's defending crew.

  Bachman and Van Vorst reached the improved palisades of their corridor blocking position. While they were gone the rest of Alpha had reinforced their battlements, which really meant they had piled more containers and detritus atop already piled containers and detritus. Bachman very much doubted the piles of junk they were hiding behind would stop so much as a light plasma bolt let alone the multiple heavies the Ogres were more than capable of being outfitted with and were most probably fielding.

  Just as the two senior shooters had scampered to their places in the defensive line, the team could once again feel the vibrations in the steel grates at their feet signaling the approach of the heavily armored exoskeletons. These approaching footfalls however were far, far heavier than that of light battlesuits. There was no doubt amongst the team, experienced and inexperienced among them, death was approaching.

  Safeties clicked off. The heavy magnetic boots clomped closer and closer, but well before the heavies rounded the corner, there were two deep, dull thuds of explosion, that shook the team down to their bones and rattled the deck and bulkheads. A cloud of dust, sparks, and black smoke jumped from around the corner previously occupied by Bachman and Van Vorst.

  Takashi was so surprised by the detonations of the improvised mines that he discharged his weapon down the corridor, the light plasma bolt impacting the flat bulkhead facing to leave a blackened scar on the gray steel. Bachman thought to himself, in that moment when combat begins and time stands still for the veteran shooter, that Takashi's shot was actually pretty good. Had there been a target in the middle of the corridor it would have been center mass. Bachman smiled a smile that no others could possibly see from behind his darkened tactical visor as he considered the aim of the ships cook.

  Smoke and motes of debris continued to drift from around the corner at the end of the corridor. The explosion was evidence that the mining expedition of Bachman and Van Vorst succeeded in at least making noise, smoke, and debris, but a full damage assessment would soon be forthcoming. Bachman very much doubted they had knocked out even one of the approaching foe. The handful of mines they had set had been low pressure shaped charges to protect his nearby team. Setting off even the tiniest explosion in a tin can results in an incredible pressure flux. However, there was no doubt that the pressure wave would easily be shrugged off by the heavy Ogre battlesuits, their occupants would have suffered through no more than a mild speed bump, an annoyance he suspected. Bachman simply hoped that at least one of the triggered shape charged mines would at least have done some component damage or perhaps cripple a sensitive system or two...

  They would know soon enough.
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br />   One thing was certain, the detonation of the hidden mines let the boarders know that the occupants of the ship were going to put up a fight and not just roll over and give up the ship.

  The undisciplined and accidental discharge by Takashi had an unfortunate consequence; it let the enemy know just where some of those defenders were. Two fist sized canisters soon ricocheted around the corner and landed on the steel grate about 20-meters before the Alpha defenders. The optics on Bachman's suit zoomed in on the two objects just as the two canisters began spewing twin fogs with one of the cloudy mixes being thicker than the other. Probably tear gas or a nerve agent along with smoke to conceal movement. He was unconcerned by the smoke as the imaging systems, enjoyed by his suit and that of Van Vorst's and Petty's, would be able to see through the soupy fog now swirling in the corridor before them. While the smoke was not much of a concern, the other substance was. Best case scenario it was tear gas, and as long as the integrity of his teams suits held, the gas would be of little consequence. But, if it was a nerve agent, even a small tear in one of the suits would have dire repercussions.

  A vortex whirlwind of mixed smoke and gas danced in the corridor now as the environmental system of the Belle' sensed the foreign substances lofting in the air. Nearby ventilation vents had popped open and fans kicked on to remove the offending caustic air.

  Bachman's musings on tear gas versus nerve gas was interrupted by the resumption of heavy footfall. The enemy was here.

  Chapter 13:

  Time: 16:42 (Zulu)

  The low pressure shaped charge mines had in fact damaged one of the two boarders moving forward toward the main life support control station of the ship. The explosion had damaged the processing unit for targeting and enhanced imaging on the suit worn by Laaken. He now only had a standard visual, with no infrared or thermal imaging available. Seeing through the smoke itself was near impossible allowing for no real accurate targeting. He would only be able to fire from the hip so to speak as there was no such manner of iron sights for his forearm and shoulder mounted weapon systems. A real shortcoming he thought of the ultra expensive piece of hardware he was running at the moment.