Beyond the Gates of Antares, page 17
“Excuse me,” said a gravelly voice. “We will set these wherever we please.”
Nacen quickly closed out of the video feed and was confronted with the sight of two Boromite security guards standing over his table. Their dark blue uniforms stretched awkwardly over their jagged flesh and stood out plainly in the sea of ostentatious fashion of the bar. To his dismay, one had set his mag pistol on the table, pointed at Nacen.
The vardosi captain forced himself to laugh once. It did not come off as carefree as he would’ve liked.
“No, I was talking to my ship,” he said, gesturing across the table where the guards currently towered over. “Please, sit.”
They did so, and Nacen thought the nanite composite chairs would break under the Boromite’s enormous weight. On the video feed of the ship in the corner of his eye, Nacen watched Camlo and Shukernak escort a defiant Linasette off of the Carmine Canotila.
“So why is a Freeborn commander wasting away at a place like this?” the guard on the right said. “Pretty rare to see you vagrants off your ships.”
“Well, I thought I’d try out this air people are always going on about,” Nacen said jovially.
“Impressed?” The guard on the left asked. He was a touch more handsome than the Boromite on the right, considering their resemblance to walking boulders. Perhaps it was the chiseled jaw, Nacen thought.
“Well, the increased oxygen levels are certainly helping my mood, but I can’t stand the bitter aroma that seems to linger on every breath I take,” Nacen explained.
“That’s supposed to simulate plant life. From what I hear, the vegetation simulants are spot on,” the left rock explained to the right rock.
“All the more reason to stay star-side then, I suppose,” Nacen replied. He blanched in the silence that followed and tried not to look at the mag pistol on the table in front of him.
“Can I get you hard-working gentlemen a drink?”
“We’ve had plenty.”
Nacen offered a weak smile and accessed his squad’s shard. He was not receiving video from Camlo yet. From the keel-side cameras of the Carmine, he watched Shukernak escorting Lina through the leftmost door where Beskin and the domari had exited.
“Alright, I’ll go ahead and order myself a hard rye drink,” Nacen said, tapping on the table once again. The obsidian surface rippled and a black digital surface appeared, bringing up a large list of items.
“We’d prefer you didn’t,” the left guard said.
“We’d also prefer you not access your Freeborn shard. Won’t do you much good anyway, we’re jamming your transmissions,” the right guard said.
He tried opening a feed to Linasette, then to Beskin. Nothing. Where he would normally simply think about opening a feed and having his built-in neural interface do the rest, he simply drew a blank. It was like trying to remember an old friend’s name but not being able to come up with the right sounds. He did, however, receive Camlo’s subsequent scream through his audio feed quite clearly.
“Kaha, Nace! They killed them! Oh, kaha kaha...”
“Calm down, Cam. Tell me what’s going on.”
The guard on Nacen’s left grabbed the pistol on the table and leveled it at Nacen’s chest.
“It’s useless to transmit through your shard, Freeborn. We’re currently tracking down your remaining crew. They will be detained shortly. Now if you’d kindly come with us, Raul Omgar would like to ask you a few questions.”
Nacen became very aware of his plasma pistol currently magnetized on his right hip. His hands were placed on the table though, and despite his confidence in his own reflexes, he wouldn’t bet on himself with the left guard currently aiming a mag pistol at his chest. The guard on the right brandished a short black rod with a grin.
“Stand up, hands forward and on the table, Freeborn.”
Seeing no other option, Nacen did as he was told. He rose slowly, glancing around as if to ask for help. Many of the patrons backed away from their table having noticed the guard’s mag pistol. Many more were filtering out of the establishment. The right guard slammed the black rod down on Nacen’s wrists and the baton went limp momentarily. In an instant, it lengthened and twisted around the vardosi’s slender wrists, then tightened firmly. Nacen initially struggled against them, but ceased when he realized his efforts were futile. The metal was strong, possibly tungsten or titanium, and nanite reinforced to conform to his wrists.
“Typical Freeborn scum. You come into our station and don’t care who gets hurt in the attempt,” the guard on the left said, still brandishing his mag pistol. He appeared to be the senior guard here. Nacen addressed him.
“Getting hurt? You’re the ones who slapped this iron noodle on me. Look, earlier I talked to Raul about C3 possibly being on the Crab. I have reason to believe there’s been some kind of military breach. Check the temporary hold in ventral-”
Nacen was interrupted by a crippling electric shock from his restraints.
“You’re not talking your way out of this one, vagrant. You’ll answer to Raul directly for what you did to Talc and Igno.”
“Talc, Igno – who? Are these... Boromites? Your friends?”
The guard with the leveled pistol nodded once.
“Station security. I’d have killed you where you stand if Raul hadn’t given me very explicit orders. Now move.”
The guard on Nacen’s right positioned himself behind him and shoved Nacen toward the front of the bar. The place had been completely cleared out now. The senior guard with the pistol began to take long strides back to the bay where Nacen had come from.
The high-pitched whine of a mag rifle echoed far off down the hallway in the direction the guards were leading Nacen. A panicked frenzy arose in the crowd, raised voices and screams passing through the throng like rocks triggering an avalanche. Nacen heard the hissing retort of a plasma beam from the same direction. It was answered in turn by another intense battery of mag round fire.
“We have more forces down in the ventral bay,” the leading guard proclaimed. “Raul is requesting reinforcements. Let’s move.”
A bright blue beam stabbed out of a nearby shop to their right and narrowly missed the Boromite. Nacen’s vision darkened as it reacted to the plasma fire erupting all around him. He was thrown behind a solid marble bench as another bolt lashed out at him. Smoke and bits of marble were hurled into the air. Nacen became aware of a loud alarm blaring throughout the station.
Nacen blinked and tried to get his bearings. The guard who shoved him was currently kneeling behind the bench that Nacen’s back was against, returning fire on the shops across the bay. To his right, Nacen saw that the lead guard had gone down, severe burns still smoldering on his uniform. In some places, Nacen could see the plasma bursts had completely burned through the Boromite’s body.
“You’ve got to take these restraints off me!” Nacen yelled to the guard beside him.
“Not a chance,” the guard grunted. He leaned over the top of the bench and let loose another half a dozen accelerated armor-piercing rounds into the shops.
“Listen, that is not my crew! They use mag rounds like you.”
“Like I care,” the Boromite said bluntly. He stood to unleash another salvo of his pistol, but he ducked as a withering hail of plasma shot over their heads.
“These are plasma carbines. Therefore, not my domari,” Nacen emphasized again.
There was a look of skepticism on the Boromite’s jagged features, but the expression quickly gave way to desperation. The guard touched the restraints with the butt of his mag pistol. The weapon emitted a high-pitched whine and Nacen felt the restraints loosen. They snapped back and clattered to the floor. Nacen grabbed for the plasma pistol on his thigh and was relieved to find it still there. He leaned out to the side of the bench and looked out across the bay. Two humans clad in thick green and white uniforms crouched behind counters roughly four yan away and were firing intense bursts of plasma. Nacen spotted a third taking aim from a storefront on the second level of the interior of the bay. He ducked back as more bursts of plasma fire seared the bench.
The Boromite looked over and fired nine more rounds at the men behind the counters. Nacen looked over and took aim. One had disappeared behind the counter in response to the guard’s returning fire, but one continued to lay down bolts of plasma. Nacen fired two bursts from his own plasma pistol. The first shot went wide to the left. So did the second. His pistol was not going to be effective this far away.
“Listen, we need to get closer if-”
Nacen’s suggestion was cut off by a plasma bolt whizzing into the guard’s head. The Boromite collapsed in a heap. Nacen heard a voice shouting at him then. A female voice. He realized it was Linasette. His squad shard was no longer being jammed.
“...in, Captain, come in. We are en route to your last known location.”
Beskin’s voice rang in his ear next.
“Lina was right, Camlo, it’s C3 strike troops. A whole squad. They’re wearing hyperlight armor under green and white robes. Stay in the holding bay, we’ll come get you after we find the captain.”
“Chodra to the captain, he’s probably already dead,” Nacen heard Shukernak say over the audio feed.
“Not yet, I’m not!” Nacen shouted.
Beskin’s reply was lost in a burst of plasma directly over Nacen’s head. One of the guards had made a run to the nearest set of benches by Nacen and had opened fired at his more exposed flank. Nacen leaned around the corner and let loose a salvo of his own bolts. He saw the plasma shots connect, but a dazzling display of lights deflected the bolts harmlessly around the man. Hyperlight deflection armor. Definitely C3 strike troops.
Nacen heard a brief shout emanate from the interior shops, followed by the concussive thuds of mag rifle fire. Looking over the bench, he saw the black reflex armor of his domari as they began taking up positions in the shops below. He caught a glimpse of Beskin’s crimson impact cloak for a brief moment as the vardanari emerged from a hallway and dashed behind the counter where the C3 trooper had been a moment before. More mag rounds erupted, this time much closer to Nacen. He saw the robed man who had tried to outflank him go down in a burst of armor-piercing rounds, the hyperlight shielding crumbling under the sheer quantity of projectiles.
Nacen raised his plasma pistol and fired at the trooper on the second floor, who was now pinning down his crew. Dashing out from behind the bench, Nacen let loose three more shots. One connected, but once again was deflected by the hyperlight armor. The distraction was all Beskin needed, as the vardanari fired a concentrated salvo from his own plasma carbine. The trooper was slammed back against the railing and sunk down onto the balcony, his armor burned beyond any recognition.
“Any longer and I might have started to worry,” Nacen called out toward the shops.
“C’mon, we’d never let these C3 dogs bite our captain too hard,” Merripen shouted back as the domari emerged from the shop. Nacen ran the rest of the way. He was relieved to see Linasette emerge from the hallway, appearing unharmed.
Nacen turned to his pilot. She looked shaken up, her blond hair a complete mess and parts of her acceleration suit torn up.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” he said.
“Likewise, Captain. Listen, the ship is secure, but I’m not sure how long it will stay that way. I’m reading heavy munition expenditure coming from the ventral bay.”
“What’s happening down there?” Nacen asked.
“Not sure, but there’s definitely more C3 holed up somewhere. I’ve been trying to access the station security shard to get some video or audio on them but I haven’t been able to.”
“Could you issue a communication request to the station’s shard instead? We need to clear the air with Raul so no more guards attack us on our way to the temporary docking bay.”
“I’ll try, hold on,” the pilot said.
Glancing to his left, Nacen could see dozens of ships departing from the docking tendrils. Dozens more were already barely perceptible specks fading into the blackness of space. A familiar rumble soon came over the squad shard. Nacen thought it was a far off explosion at first, deep within the Crab. Then he recognized the Boromite’s voice.
“You had better have a good explanation for this, Freeborn,” Raul Omgar demanded, his voice flooded with rage.
“The assailants are Concord Combined Command, we’ve confirmed it.”
“C3 launch an attack on my station? Impossible.”
“I’m not debating what’s possible or not possible, I’m telling you what’s happening. As far as we can tell, a C3 squad entered the station under the guise of an agriculture freighter crew and unloaded six hyper-compressor crates into the same holding bay as you put our crates in.”
“Why would they do that?” Raul asked, some of his fury being displaced by frustration.
“We’re trying to find that out ourselves. It would help us out if you gave us full access to station security feeds.”
There was a momentary pause before Raul spoke again. “It’s yours. Now go figure out what’s going on. I’ve ordered my men not to fire on you.”
“I appreciate that very much.”
The next transporter pad was coming up. This one would take them to the final bay before the long hallway that led to the rounded chamber where the Carmine was held, and where Camlo had given his last transmission. Linasette shouted for Nacen and Beskin to stop. Nacen did so, and Lina nearly collided with him.
“Captain, I have access to the entire station. It’s incredible. So much data, it’s overwhelming.”
“Well, sort it out and tell me what’s happening by the Carmine.”
The pilot took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes.
“The Carmine is clear,” Linasette reported, visibly relieved. “A few new scorch marks, but nothing serious. There’s a few short corridors that lead to the temporary holding bay. Okay... let’s see.”
There was a sharp intake of breath and the pilot’s eyes flared open.
“Oh. I… They’re all, they’re all...” she began despondently.
“Focus, Lina. I need a clear report.”
Closing her eyes, Linasette nodded and continued.
“There are nine confirmed dead station guards leading up to the temporary holding bay. I see two strike troopers in the hold itself. They appear to be working on one of the crates.”
“Alright, that’s five strike troopers accounted for. Now where are the other five?”
“Contact!” Jeta bellowed from behind a nearby line of colorful bushes. She took aim down her mag rifle, using its zoom feature to keep a sharp eye across the massive room. “C3 in the previous bay, coming up fast!”
Two strike troopers had taken up positions on either side of the arch now and were taking blind shots around the corner at the domari’s entrenched positions. Nacen grabbed Linasette and hurried to the interior wall. They leapt through the entrance of a restaurant and ducked behind the low wall facing the bay.
“Stay here. Keep plugged in to the security shard, and give us live updates on the C3 position. Can you handle that?” Nacen asked, forcing a calm demeanor to reassure the pilot.
Linasette nodded.
“Good. Beskin, on me. We’re going to advance up this building district and get a better position to protect the bay entrance.”
They leapt out of the window, and crouching low, began to make their way through the courtyards of the station structures. Nacen looked to the entrance of bay delta-two. Under a punishing barrage of mag rounds, three strike troopers materialized on the transporter mat. A small drone appeared behind them. The domari redirected their fire onto the newcomers, who began sprinting toward the buildings Nacen and Beskin were headed to. The mag rounds impacted harmlessly on a scintillating blue surface curving in front of the troopers. They were making good progress to the buildings, faster than Beskin and Nacen could hope to.
The strike troopers peaking around the entrance fired upon the domari with renewed vigor, spurred on by the advance of their allies. Plasma bolts connected with Merripen and the domari gave a shout of pain as she fell, three scorch marks searing into her leg. Ruslo took a direct hit to his black reflex armor and his torso evaporated as the bolt flung him back.
“Captain, something big is coming,” Linasette announced.
She was right. The hum of powerful reaction thrusters emanated from beyond the arc where two strike troopers were still firing on the domari’s position. Plasma fire now began to pour from the adjacent building as the C3 soldiers began to take aim at the domari around the bay. The humming reached a crescendo as a massive M4 combat drone flew in through the open arch. The sleek green vehicle measured nearly a yan long, and hovered effortlessly half its length above the ground. There was a moment of stillness in the bay as the drone shifted course, turning against the domari positioned behind statues, benches, bushes, whatever cover they could find. Then the plasma support gun in the front hull of the drone opened fire.
The nearby statue concealing Tobar was torn to pieces, the self-repairing effect of the nanites rendered useless by the torrent of plasma fire. Tobar was ripped to shreds by the weapon, and the drone revolved to face its next target. The plasma cannon situated atop the M4 emitted a sharp whine and let loose a massive pulse of energy that tore into the building directly behind Nacen and Beskin.
“Kaha!” Nacen shouted to his squad. “Forget the troopers, we have to take out that M4 now!”
Mag rounds poured into the drone, but each was countered with a flash of light as it was halted by the kinetic shielding. Desperate to relieve themselves of the rapid plasma support gun fire, the domari tossed their only plasma grenades. One landed in front of the drone and detonated harmlessly against the kinetic shielding. Another overshot the drone and thudded against the clear wall of the bay. The resulting blast blew a small hole into the curved transparent surface, exposing the bay to the vacuum of space. A howling gush of air poured through the hole as the station nanites sealed shut over the course of a few seconds.
“I have an idea, Beskin. I’m going to need your grenades.”
