Space Brigade Series Book 1: Space Brigade
Автор
James Marriott
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Chapter 1
The small enemy deciphering room was engulfed in black smoke. The fighting had been intense; numerous bodies of Network troops and Sentec lay strewn among the debris of twisted machinery and crumbling walls.
The noise of fierce laser fire had subsided. A solitary voice called out. “All right. We have what we came for, now let’s get the hell off this damn planet!”
In unison, the remainder of the Network’s elite Pierce Force hurried after their commanding officer. They picked their way through the shattered plasti-steel scattered across the floor, checking their fallen comrades for life signs as they came across them.
Eventually, they broke out into the bright salmon-colored daylight. Sentec’s sun was almost at its apex; the heat was becoming unbearable for the Network team.
Steadily, the well-trained men of Pierce Force moved cautiously back into the undergrowth and along the path they had come.
Captain Pala Toms took a head count as the men passed. Two wounded were carried on makeshift litters.
Their commanding officer, Colonel Jim Raga, hurried them along the trail toward their extraction zone. Fortunately, the heavy downpour the night before hadn’t washed away their markings.
Hopefully, they would reach the zone and board the transport before Sentec reinforcements could arrive.
As they reached the outskirts of the extraction zone, two Pierce Force troopers aimed a heavy plasma cannon in their direction.
“Pierce Force, Raga one!” Colonel Raga called.
The air around the small extraction zone shimmered with tiny glowing particles as one of the troopers deactivated the perimeter force field.
Colonel Raga led his men into the clearing. All the while, the trail behind them was targeted by the deadly plasma cannon. “Colas, call up the transport. I want us outta here ASAP,” croaked Raga.
He coughed, trying to clear the taste of acrid smoke that lingered in his lungs. He wiped a hand across his sweaty face, his fingers leaving smudged black streaks on his cheeks.
His normally immaculately combed hair was ruffled and damp with sweat. He turned to his second captain, Captain Cap Beeta, a dark-skinned man of about thirty from the planet Capstan Four—a member of the select Capstan warrior caste, and a longtime friend.
“Cap, get Cagrr to check the decoder, and make sure he doesn’t lose anything. That damn thing’s cost us too much already!”
***
After the resolution of the mechanical Trepan wars, Nepis was now predominantly controlled by a group of allied planets known as the Coalition. Originated by the Agarians, the Waii, the Lithians, and the Ventek, they brought as many species as they could under one unified banner.
Since the end of the devastating Trepan robotic confrontation, many other planets had aligned themselves with the Coalition. Their space was vast and under constant threat from the non-aligned species that harassed the outer fringe planets.
Among these were the feared Quat-tar, the Aurian Bloc, the belligerent Sentec, and the highly secretive Executive. The most prominent of these at present were the Quat-tar—a warring race who took captives at every opportunity to use in their brutal bio-experiments.
The Quat-tar’s never-ending raids on the fringe planets were a perpetual matter of debate in the Coalition Assembly. Many species had suffered losses that either ended up on Quat-tar Prime or their prison planet of Secunda.
Many horrific stories roamed the outer systems, telling of the Quat-tar’s cruelty. Horrendous tales of the degradation and debasement of entire species.
Of captives being dissected and mutilated in vile experimentation to achieve the ultimate submissive slave population. Those who did not conform after surgery were either put to a painful death or released to wander the Burrena wastelands of Secunda. There, they died of starvation or fell prey to the wasteland’s savage predators.
The Quat-tar were basically humanoid in appearance, but had inbred animalistic values. Their left hand was surgically removed at birth and replaced by a bone-like claw, their favored means of inflicting pain.
Their scaly skin was a mottled gray, their eyes large and dark as death.
For years, they had driven deeper and deeper into Coalition space, making short decisive sorties, then returning to the safety of their own system on the other side of the highly secretive Executive.
Usually, these infringements were dealt with by diplomatic means. Unfortunately, there was little or no response from the Quat-tar.
The Coalition had an enormous military force, known as the Network, consisting of resources, men, and equipment from every aligned planet.
However, for the Network to mount a quick, decisive strike on Quat-tar or Secunda, it would mean crossing the no-go area of Executive Space. This was something the Coalition Assembly was, as yet, unwilling to sanction.
The Assembly, the Coalition’s governing body, was made up of ambassadorial representatives from all aligned species, and even some non-aligned species held seats.
The Assembly constantly pressured the Coalition President, President Lurth, to use the Network to eradicate the Quat-tar problem.
However, when put to a full Assembly vote, only a few were prepared to lend weight to any incursion into the Executive and risk being thrust into a war with a species they knew almost nothing about.
Minor diplomatic channels were available, but were seldom used. The Executive wanted nothing to do with the Coalition, or any other species.
For now, the Quat-tar were safe in their far-removed system—a situation that was soon to change…
***
“Sir, transport’s on its way. ETA two minutes,” Trooper Colas reported while hurriedly packing away his portable com-console.
Captain Toms jogged to Raga’s side. “Colonel, Troopers Glun and Loote haven’t turned up yet. Shall I send Qwerti to find them?”
“No, they know the procedure. Two minutes and we leave!”
“Here she comes!” Colas called with a sigh of relief.
The high-pitched drone of the Network troop transport engines could be heard approaching from the south, the drone getting louder as it closed on the extraction zone.
Suddenly, a thundering explosion far to the north drowned out the noise of the engines. A plume of smoke snaked its way into the sky.
Looking at the smoke plume, Raga mumbled to himself, “I hope they make it back in time.”
The transport’s immense form loomed overhead, her lower bay doors open. Its personnel lift was slowly extending to the ground.
“Cap, get the wounded on first,” Raga called over the engine’s noise.
Cap Beeta nodded in acknowledgment and headed for the lift.
“We’ll give them a couple more minutes,” Raga advised Toms while glancing along the trail for his missing troopers.
The wounded were on the lift along with the others when Cap Beeta shouted, “Come on, Colonel, time to go!”
Raga motioned Toms to join them on the personnel lift and carried on watching the trail. There was no sign of the missing men.
Finally, he turned and dashed for the lift. As he climbed aboard, Troopers Glun and Loote rushed into the clearing, running like hell.
“Hold it!” Toms called over the com-link to the pilot.
Glun and Loote jumped aboard the partially raised lift, their mates helping them on.
“Glad you two could finally make it. Next time I might not wait!” Raga exclaimed jokingly.
“You may not have that option, sir. There’s a large force of Sentec about a kilometer behind us, and they’re moving fast,” Loote reported quickly.
The lift continued to rise while the pilot trained the ship’s lasers on the trail. As the lift locked into place and the bay doors closed, they heard the crack of laser fire as it bounced off the ship’s hull.
The pilot opened up with her more powerful guns, scorching the narrow path where the Sentec troops fired. The bushes to either side burst into flame.
The enemy’s fire subsided as the transport banked left and headed for open space and her mother ship, the Phoenix Pride.
By the time they reached space, Raga had reached the cockpit. “Raga One to Phoenix?” he said.
A short moment passed. Then the strong tones of Network Carrier Admiral Torre burst from the speakers. “Phoenix here, have you got it, Raga?”
“Affirmative, Admiral. Can you have the doc and a medical team ready? I’ve got two seriously injured who’ll need urgent attention as soon as we dock!”
“They’ll be waiting. Are you being pursued? Do you need fighter escort?”
“No sir, just the doc,” Raga replied.
The speakers turned to silence as Raga switched off the communication and sat down in the vacant seat next to the pilot.
“Costly?” she inquired casually.
Raga simply nodded and thought of just how costly this mission had been.
The official report would state that nineteen troopers of Pierce Force were killed in action during an assault on the planet Sentec, mission successful.
There would be no glory, no accolades for the men who lost their lives. The Directorate of Covert Operations had sanctioned the raid, and therefore all knowledge of the mission would be classified.
Raga had his own views on the mission’s success. Yes, they had managed to get what the DCO wanted. The universal decoder would be of great use to the cipher boys at Network HQ—if the damn thing worked.
His men deserved better than to die on an alien planet just for the sake of a piece of machinery. In his mind, the price was far too high.
“There she is!” the pilot announced.
Raga looked out the forward viewport. The colossal construction of the Network Carrier Phoenix Pride loomed in front of the small transport, her matte-green hull making her stand out from the backdrop of the planet she was orbiting.
She carried fighting men and equipment to distant alien worlds, ready to do battle at a moment’s notice. The Phoenix Pride, one of only four carriers in the Network fleet, could carry a maximum of one hundred dropships under each of her giant wings, each dropship capable of ferrying sixty troops plus equipment to any coordinates required.
She had a complement of seven squadrons of one-man fighters dispersed across four landing bays. Her armament consisted of twenty forward quantum lasers, ten aft-facing lasers, two hundred plasma and fusion torpedoes, and numerous space mines.
The Phoenix was capable of initiating an attack on her own, but most often was escorted by at least two class-one attack ships. She was a flying war zone, faster and more deadly than any other ship in the Network fleet.
The Pierce Force transport glided neatly into her docking clamps under the Phoenix’s port wing. When Colonel Raga and his men disembarked, Chief Medical Officer Ferl Collona was waiting with a medi-unit.
She immediately whisked the wounded troopers away to sickbay.
The remainder of Pierce Force headed for the debriefing room on deck six, while Colonel Raga, flanked by Captains Beeta and Toms, headed for the main bridge as the Phoenix broke from orbit.
The Phoenix’s bridge was a hive of activity as she headed for open space.
“Course set. Heading one-three-five, mark two!” Command Captain Mittvn announced.
Admiral Ral Torre acknowledged him with a nod. “Scanners to maximum. It’s a long way to the Sentec frontier. Let’s not get caught unawares!” he said.
Captain Mittvn crossed from helm control and took his seat next to the admiral as Raga and his officers walked in.
They all hoped they would gain some leave on their return. However, unbeknownst to them, circumstances were already unfolding that would lead to their next mission—a mission that would cost them dearly, deliver their first sight of the Executive, and put them up against the dreaded Quat-tar.
