Venusian Uprising Read online

 

  The squad sergeant nodded.

 

 

  Williams pulled Jansen into their conversation.

 

  he replied.

 

  He removed the corporal from the channel and fixed the MICI agent with a measuring stare.

  Smith’s lips pursed behind his transparent faceshield.

  Williams was surprised to hear that the other MICI agent needed to be Link-suppressed. It seemed extreme given the circumstances.

  Not that I think it’s a bad idea. That bitch was off the rails.

  He nodded to Kowalski, who turned to a Marine and sent them running to Becker’s fireteam with orders.

  “OK, then.” Williams rolled his shoulders, giving Dvorak a nod of thanks for the medical attention. “Eleven Marines and a MICI against a few regiments of Veefs and Diskers. Almost a fair fight.”

  * * * * *

  Williams crouched next to a low stone wall in a residential neighborhood, waiting for Jansen to give the all-clear on the route ahead. There were Veef patrols in the area, and he didn’t want to alert the enemy to their presence.

  They still hadn’t managed to connect to the local networks yet, but he trusted that Becker had made it back to Bravo Company, and the commander was updated on his plan. Williams didn’t know if he’d be in deep shit, or commended for taking the initiative to go after the Diskers, but given the destruction they could cause by bringing down the suns, he figured the risk was worth it.

  The fact that Smith was going with them gave him a measure of protection from on high.

  Of course, that depends on what Deadpan’s plans are.

  The agent was completely invisible on all scan, his armor far better than what the Marines typically used—and significantly better than the Coastie gear Williams wore. A marker appeared on the Marines’ combat net noting where the agent was, but the gunnery sergeant wasn’t entirely certain that he trusted it.

  Rumors about the hooks Division 99 had in the TSF military’s software abounded. Given what Tanis had been able to do, Williams believed most of them. It would be entirely possible for Smith to fake his location.

  The knowledge made the skin on the back of his neck crawl.

  MICI agents were impossible to read; the man could be entirely onboard with stopping the Diskers, or planning to finish what Jones started, or planning to kill Williams for shooting his partner.

  Jansen relayed back.

  A road that ran perpendicular to the Marines’ path was highlighted on his HUD as she spoke.

 

  Williams drew out the word while considering his response.

  Jansen asked.

  The gunnery sergeant brought Kowalski and Smith onto the channel. he said, noting the road Jansen had come across.

  Kowalski directed the question at Agent Smith.

 

  Williams hated the fact that he was the one slowing the squad’s advance, but he wasn’t about to stay behind and leave his Marines at the mercy of a MICI he wasn’t sure about.

  He reviewed the map of the area and spotted a location where the road was narrower. There, the trees lining it arched over, creating a bower.

  he said.

  the sergeant replied.

  Five minutes later, the Marines were in position behind the row of abandoned houses on the north side of the street. After a quick reconfirmation, Williams sent the signal to kick off the plan.

  Jansen and Smith both moved from cover, creeping toward the trees, ready to take out the Veefs if they spotted anything. At the same time, weapons fire erupted to the west. Williams smirked as he saw the Veefs turn their attention down the road.

  Taylor had split his team, with two Marines crossing the road, and two staying behind. They’d intentionally moved too fast, causing their stealth system to waver and reveal them to the enemy. With any luck, the separatists would fall for the ruse and believe that it was a legitimate attempt at crossing their line.

  Jansen and Smith reached their positions, each behind a thick oak tree, twenty meters apart. On the road between them were five Veefs who had stopped mid-patrol to point in the direction of the disturbance.

  Williams nodded to Cheng, Cassar, and Murphy. The three Marines began to move toward the street, and then across. The Veefs didn’t give any sign they’d detected the stealthed trio, apparently debating whether or not they should provide assistance to their comrades.

  While they talked, Williams climbed onto the roof of the house he’d been crouched behind and got ready to make his run. A timer appeared on his HUD, counting down, and when it hit zero, he moved to take off. A split second before his boot hit the roof, a grenade went off. Then another. By the time the third explosion sounded, he was sailing through the air, his lightly powered armor and mods giving him the lift to arch over the treetops, out of sight of the Veefs below.

  Then he was over the leafy bower, boots hitting the ground behind a hedge. He rolled twice to absorb his momentum as the heavy barrage from Taylor’s position continued.

  The three Marines who had crossed the road first took up covering positions, and then Smith and Jansen moved out into the street. They’d nearly made it across when one of the Veefs turned and swung his rifle toward the corporal.

  Williams sucked in a breath and took aim at the enemy, noting that Cassar had a clear shot as well.

  Jansen ducked and moved to the side, Williams certain that her head had passed mere centimeters below the Veef’s weapon. The enemy soldier paused, head swiveling back and forth for several long seconds before he turned and walked toward the north side of the road.

  Once Jansen and the Mickey were across, Kowalski brought up the rear, and twenty seconds later, the entire team was safely on the south side, moving behind the row of houses. In the distance, the sound of Taylor’s team firing droned on for another minute before falling silent.

  In its wake, a deep quiet settled over the road. A half-minute later, a series of Veef tanks lumbered into view.

  Williams knew Taylor’s team would be long gone, moving to a new crossing point. They’d follow once things settled down, but until then, it was just himself, Kowalski, one/one, and the MICI agent.

  he directed them. the Diskers get inside.>

  DEATH BY KELP

  STELLAR DATE: 3227476 / 06.06.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: South Sea

  REGION: Venus, InnerSol, Sol Space Federation

  The ship rocketed across the water, ground effect from the cushion of air just above its surface causing the craft to shudder slightly in time with the crests of the waves that it skated over. Moira piloted while Urdon controlled the craft’s comm unit, subverting it to SWSF use.

  Jakobsen greeted, her voice sounding over the ship’s net. She paused, then continued.

  Urdon pitched his mental voice to carry a cordially dry regret.

  Jakobsen’s avatar broke into a brief smile.

 

  Jakobsen nodded.

  he instructed.

 

 

 

 

  “Admiral,” Moira interrupted, pointing to scan. “Looks like we have company.”

  Urdon brought the feed up on the holo in front of his cradle. A fast attack craft was closing, and by its heading, it was obvious that the crew onboard was aware of their presence.

  An audible alert sounded, confirming it.

  Urdon’s gaze swung to Moira, lips flattening in displeasure. “I thought that fool said these had TSF stealth skins.”

  “He said a few of them had stealth installed,” Moira corrected. “Never claimed he’d managed to get his hands on one of them.”

  Urdon cursed as he studied the watery terrain offered up by the ship’s sensor returns, considering and then discarding various strategies to extract the cigar ship from the situation.

  “Stall them,” he ordered, and heard Moira’s response to the Healy, confirming the ident request.

  He returned his attention to the logistics of their situation. The attack craft was still three hundred klicks out, but vectoring in their direction. Between it and them, there was nothing but water, except for a small icon seventy kilometers to their north and a bit east.

  “There,” he murmured to himself, selecting the icon and enlarging it.

  he heard Moira respond to the Healy.

  He sent her a mental nudge, calling her attention to the location he’d found. “Alter your heading to place this kelp farm between us and them,” he instructed.

  She nodded, changing course. “The plan?”

  Urdon rotated the image of the farm’s floating platform until he spotted what he was looking for. “This ship has, what? Two four-centimeter lasers and a seven-centimeter railgun?”

  Moira made an unimpressed sound, and Urdon’s lips split into a thin smile. “It’s a small vessel,” he reminded her. “Built for speed, not warfare. It’ll do.”

  He zoomed in on the platform, highlighting the farm’s generator as he continued his explanation. “See that casing there? Target it with two three-second bursts, followed by a round from the rail, and it’ll rupture.”

  “And behind that casing?”

  “A fusion plant that’ll take our friends with it when it blows.”

  Moira pursed her lips, eyes alighting with interest. “I’ll see if I can’t get them to agree to rendezvous with us there. They’re closer than we are. They’d be first to arrive.”

  Urdon nodded. “Convenient, don’t you think?”

  Moira reconnected with the Coastie ship. In a flirtatious voice, she added,

  Urdon heard a smirk in the mental voice of the woman on the other end. The Coastie’s avatar gave a saucy wink and then signed off.

  The two ships closed. Urdon brought the cigar ship’s lasers and railgun online and locked in targeting solutions with the vessel’s NSAI, homing in on the kelp farm power plant’s fusion casing. He slowly ticked down a mental countdown as the attack craft neared their destination.

  He felt a slight shudder just as the NSAI’s presence on the ship’s net winked out. Swearing, he plunged his hands into the holographic interface on the weapons board, taking control.

  “Stay at this speed and heading,” he bit out. “We’re doing this manually.”

  The voice from the Healy was brusque, leached of its earlier friendly tone.

  “Lure them in. Do it. Now.” Urdon’s voice was harsh. “They get suspicious, we die. We don’t have the firepower to go head to head with them.”

  Moira nudged the cigar ship’s velocity higher as she responded to the Casco. Urdon dismissed the words, focusing on his target as the kelp farm loomed larger in the center of the lasers’ reticle, and the fast attack craft finally came into kill range.

  Three…two…

  The ship NSAI came back online and attempted to reconnect with the lasers just as Urdon took the shot—and missed.

  “Faaawk!” Moira breathed as the Casco jinked. “They’re firing,” she added unnecessarily, as the cigar ship jolted from a laser strike.

  Urdon slapped the controls, overriding the NSAI. Just as quickly, he realigned and discharged two quick laser bursts, then switched over to the railgun. The weapon fired just as the cigar ship shuddered again and began to list to port. He got off one final shot with the beams before Moira sent the cigar ship racing away from the farm.

  There was a blinding flash from the facility’s fusion reactor as the superheated plasma within its core came into contact with the final laser shot. It obliterated both farm and coast guard ship, the shock wave expanding out across the water.

  “Want the good news or the bad news first?” Moira was back to being flippant as she turned in her cradle to regard Urdon.

  “We’re sinking.”

  “Well, yes, but we won’t have to worry about how to scuttle the ship, now. And we have scuba gear and rebreathers,” she pointed out. “We’re only about thirty klicks off the coast, too, and I just sent a burst to Jakobsen to update her on our situation. She sent me coordinates for a location on the coast where she’ll send someone to meet us.”

  Urdon nodded his thanks, pleased with Moira’s competence and initiative.

  Too bad she’s nearing the end of her useful shelf life as an SSID agent, he thought. He decided he’d personally ensure her end was a merciful one.

  She deserved no less.

  * * * * *

  Urdon shed the rebreather and peeled off his coast-guard-issued wetsuit under the watchful eyes of an AI named Wren, while a small fireteam of SWSF soldiers guarded the perimeter.

  “How far are we from the uplink tower, and what’s the status of the node?” He shot the words staccato-like at the AI.

  She tilted the head of her battleframe. “Aaron and Katelyn were just handed off to our people by the Veefs. They’re a
t a business park, fifteen klicks from the tower.”

  Urdon accepted the powered armor the AI offered, connecting to its systems and bringing it online. He grunted in satisfaction as it automatically found targeting solutions for the four SWSF soldiers within a five-hundred-meter radius—as well as three perimeter guards just at the edge of his range.

  He shut it off, swinging his attention back to Wren. “What are you not telling me?” he asked sharply.

  She hesitated. “The TSF sent two Division 99 agents to the temporary HQ the Marines set up, over at the coast guard’s Teka Sector. It’s on the banks of the Damascus, just north of Tarja.”

  Urdon’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “They’re there to recover the node.”

  Wren nodded. “Those were our thoughts, too, sir. We learned about their presence during the extraction. We sent Katelyn Evans in with one of our men to retrieve it, thinking it would be best to have her along, since Aaron knows and trusts her.”

  He nodded, impatient for her to get to the important part. “Who cocked up?”

  Wren shook her head. “Not sure I’d say it was anyone’s fault, sir, but one of the TSF Marines managed to track them. By the look of it, he’s figured out a few things.”

  Urdon’s head jerked up. “Like what?”

  Wren hesitated. “Like that the node holds the key to hacking into the control uplink in the tower.”

  He tilted his head, piercing the AI with a look. “And who could possibly have given him that idea?” he asked in a dangerous voice.

  Wren’s tone signaled her unease. “It’s conceivable that one of them overheard Aaron or Katelyn discussing it while they were being tracked.”

  Urdon’s hands clenched, and he turned to Moira. “You know how we deal with fuck-ups. You handle the AI. Bring Evans to me.”

  * * * * *

  The Marines didn’t yet control the western approaches into the city, so Moira brought them in low from that direction, the suns peeking through the clouds as they lowered on the eastern horizon ahead.

  She piloted the shuttle into the heart of the city while Wren sat in the gunner’s cradle, weapons systems slaved to her control. Twice, the ship veered sharply to avoid RPGs targeting the craft, Wren working to fire chaff and countermeasures to take them down.