Chapter 8 - Deploy
The super-carrier moved into orbit, the salvage corvettes patching into the TIFnet computer systems, and then one by one tow back each segment of destroyed or crippled vessel back to the carrier, segments of the same ship are linked together, any battle damage or vaporized segments are patched back together with the 'Green Beam'.
After adding a trio of destroyers and myraid assault and ion cannon frigates to the fleet, the carrier turns its attention to the ground problem. The codex had to be found.
The data codex was basically a giant hard drive, wrapped inside a aero gel/composite crystalline armor impact resistant shell, dropped 50 feet down a underground tube. Containing surveillance tapes and data on experiments and other essentials, it would allow for a backup record in case something were to happen to the base, that would wipe out the mainframes in the complex. The codex would then be used and the data contained could be utilized to find out what had gone wrong...it was the equivalent of a flight data recorder.
The data codex was located somewhere around the compound. There was no evidence that the beast had been sterilized, so the mission objectives would be to:
1) Locate the data codex
2) If beast present, attempt to sterilize region, or
3) If contamination widespread, return uncontaiminated vectors back to carrier, and destroy/contain the beast.
Secondary Objectives would be to salvage usable data from the mainframes in the research facility, and/or locate survivors.
Moving through the bowels of the vessel Qu'jet headed to the flight bay, taking the elevator up to the top level, walking down the catwalk. From here he could see the entire breadth of the flight bay, and below he could see the 5 platoons of marines and light vehicles assembled to lead the ground force. He cleared his throat, and spoke up:
"Your objectives have already been given. I am hoping you have perused the mission data distributed to you. This mission, this planet, holds the key to the beast. It -must- be found. Our goal is to destroy it. Fleet Command has ordered us to track down the prime elements of the beast. Our future orders will most likely include destroying this element. If not in self-preservation, then for the sake of the galaxy, so that others will not have to suffer, and that the others, the...Kushans (spoken scornfully) and the 'Unbound' races will not be turned against us.
Your units will be sent in via modified assault shuttles. The shuttles have been modified to have the anti-beast electrodes.
We don't know what you will encounter either. Mass driver weapons have proven impractical. Strike craft pilots, over there, and there, will provide immediate support over your airspace.
The plan is to breach atmosphere with light corvettes, interceptors and scout elements. They will fan out and cover as much ground as possible over the area, sending you reconnaissance data. Multigun corvettes, heavy corvettes, and our assault transports will breach airspace and execute landings at the LZ' on your maps.
Attack bombers will follow last, and destroy any heavy weapons platforms that may be encountered. I will lead the strike craft groups, and be on site on planet with the command center. Your suits, have already been modified. Your weapons will no longer be the MD-4 mass driver rifles that you have trained for. You will be using the EPC-1s, the energy pulse cannons, the first batch that has been distributed to active force groups.
These weapons use the same weapon principle used by your default issue MD-4s. The weapon principle is based on the magnetically contained plasma delivery system used on attack bombers. They come with internal mini cold fusion reactors. There will be no ammunition limits. We also have included the plasma flamethrower. 80mm plasma incendiary mortar shells designed for the standard issue mortars are fresh off the PDAs. All weapons issued have been designed for maximum effectiveness.
He looks down the stairs as Colonel Welles walks up the stairs. He goes down as the colonel goes up. Going down he watches the weapons trollies and grabs a gun off, throwing one to a nearby marine, getting two more off and handing them to two others, the quarter masters then distribute the rest of the guns, the Colonel going over tactics and other dry military policies, the strike craft pilots moving towards their designated fighters; the wing commander heading for his Triikor Mk.2 custom model, a interceptor model vessel enlarged and placed onto a light corvette chassis.
Armed with dual plasma cannons and dual plasma pulse sphere projectors mounted on gun pods, plus the fuselage mounted weapon, painted in fresh imperial colors. Climbing into his craft he closes the hatch and secures it, the inside lights flickering to life and bathing him in a warm red glow, all systems flickering to life and registering as active. He suddenly pauses for a minute, then blinks and shakes his head, resuming going through the system checkpoints. Around him the ambient hum and throb of engines.
As one cohesive unit the Taiidani marines split off and head into respective shuttles, the infantry, scouts, flamethrowers, heavy infantry, mortars, combat engineers and other support groups. The modified assault shuttles open ramps and begin loading in Taiidani mechanized armored units, mag-lev hover drives making not a sound as the tanks move into the transports and prepare for launch. LAVs are checked and transported as well. Sending about 250 personnel on site would be a interesting proposition. All units were beast shielded to the extent of their knowledge. All systems were go. One by one the strike craft taxied off and were launched, followed by the assault transports and shuttles.
In Military parade formation he looked out to the rest of his squadron, mobilized and recently brought up to strength. 1 Triikor mk.2 custom (his), and 11 other Triikor; designated Avatar squadron, for now. A mix of pilots from AFS (advanced flight school) and Elite Guard pilots, the squadron had yet to be tested working as a coordinated group, everyone in the squadron had proved themselves, working as lone wolves. It was quite likely that once the squadron entered airspace that the squadron would detach itself and its interceptors going wherever needed.
In front of him the Fiirkan Mk.2s shot off and initiated atmospheric re entry procedures, large streaks that gradually faded. And then the Triikor's turn.
The fighter noses into position and prepared for re entry, increasing speed and slowly modifying angle of descent, changing the angle from a straight death-drop, slowly to a leveled descent, inertia and g-forces working merrily on the body of the individual pilots, and their stomachs.
As soon as the first wave had entered the atmosphere, the scouts and interceptors fanned out around the LZ, attached scanner pods looking for beast life signs, finding none, moving on as the light corvettes buzzed around the LZ, a coordinated organized, semi-chaotic landing was being undertaken. Defenders, Defense Fighters, and attack bombers followed the outbound recon elements.
The Light and Heavy Corvettes landed, followed by a single Engineering Corps. Assault Shuttle. After finding no signs of beast infection, the other shuttles begin landing and offloading troops before flying off, the assault transports land and unload mechanized units, these too flying off.
After reconnoitering a 5-mile radius of the LZ most of the outer craft fly back to the carrier, Qu'jet heading to the LZ and landing, sighing as his craft touched down on soil. He felt a little disoriented, as his body had gotten used to incessant moving.
He waited for disorientation to fade and removed his helmet, leaving it inside, and opening the canopy, climbing on top of the custom corvette-class craft, and jumping from the wing to the other wing, and from there lowering himself to the ground.
Wiping sweat off his brow, and straightening out his flight suit he heads off for the field headquarters, not caring to note that the scorched underbrush was not without life, a red beetle picked itself out of the dirt to the surface.
He walked into the tent-like room, ignoring the mechanics and their light "jeeps", and grabbing a headset off a table, and putting it on, then sliding a eyepiece into position a few inches from his left eye. He clears his throat as the connection completes.
Suddenly the eyepiece shows the entire conference room, the admiral and most of the command staff are there.
Admiral: "Commander, you are on site?"
"Affirmative."
He looks around, and then focuses back on the eyepiece.
"All units are on site. Tell the general his plan worked. Nothing went wrong. It looks to be about early Afternoon local time. We are 1/2 mile away, and we are in the sterilized area. Nothing appears to be alive. The mag-tube transports seem to be working, I believe we should utilize them, we can cut the ETA to the base several-fold. I've ordered the attack bombers and defenders to stick around. The third gun underneath has the standard issue extract-retratctor, that works at least. In a few minutes we'll be ready to go...with your permission I'd like to go with the ground teams."
Admiral: "I don't know...very well then. Get a suit and weapon though. You don't want to be infected."
"I won't." He pulls off the headset and places it on the table, and jogs outside.
"Everybody, the mag-tubes are miraculously operational! We can use them and get to the base in just 5 minutes! We can bring our engineering gear and the mech-units with us. Then we can get off this cursed rock."
Acknowledgements float through the air, and somehow Qu'jet feels...worried. Everything is going well. Almost, too well...
4 hours already. How could it have gone by this swiftly?
The ground force had moved in, deployed, and as of late they were looking for the data codex; the engineers moving through the twisted rubble, with giant devices that resembled the mine-sweeping units, scanning for the codex' beacon. One of them suddenly gives a shout, barely audible through his helmet. Nobody was to take off his or her NBC gear. He turned on his comm system and gestured emphatically towards the ground underneath.
From behind, he could hear the scraping of a giant earth worker moving in, the engineers getting out of the way of the giant machine, which began scooping away rubble and depositing it in a neat pile to its right.
With the sound of metal contact the earth worker moves away. The engineers with their hands move aside remaining dirt and uncover the tube where the data codex was located. Pulling a lever mounted on the side, the iris type door opens, a gaping maw of darkness greeting the eye.
With a gloved hand the engineer presses a few buttons and the data codex is propelled up magnetically, Qu'jet jogging over and watching the process, mag-levs bringing the package up to the top. Qu'jet grabs the large device, heavy and bulky in his gloved hands, setting it down on the ground, the automated beacon goes online and transmits a jumble of data to the carrier in orbit.
Suddenly a weak cry for help can be heard. Pointing and waving his hand towards a twisted wreck he begins shouting orders.
"Get a excavator and the jaws of life! We gotsa survivor I think! Deploy pyros, it may be a trap and we may have to torch it! Get the bombers and defenders an' put them on stand by!"
He runs over to where the location of the survivor is guessed, everybody begins digging frantically, he backs away and hears the cry again. Turning around he hears the tapping of a blunt tool, a wrench perhaps. Stooping, he follows the sound until he reaches a partially demolished shelter complex. He circles it and finds a door, kicking it once, then taking out his sidearm and firing several 10mm rounds into the door, and then kicking it down. A hand reached out, a woman in dirtied and heavily damaged power armor was inside.
"Help...I gotta get up..."
She stumbles to her feet, and then grabs onto a side rail for support. He turns around.
"Need a medic! Found the survivor! Get de-con first and then get her down to a med. tent!"
-----
He watched indifferently, she'd been decontaminated, no signs of beast infection. Apparently based on the ID tag she worked here as a researcher...maybe in her mid-20s...he found his mind drifting to, other aspects; he stopped those thoughts and patiently looked at the tent walls until she awoke. They needed answers.
What had happened here? Could she provide answers? Where was she? Did she see it happen?
A tumulting swarm of questions, again the questions came in large numbers. He looked around and spoke to a medic.
"Patient will be transferred out on the shuttle. Theres nothing left. All units will be shuttled out. First the med-shuttle, then everything else."
He nodded and looked away, med-techs putting her on the stretcher and wheeling her onto one shuttle, marked with the red cross.
Piece by piece the ground party was disassembled and sent back up.
-----
Forward Recon Squad 4
A squad of Taiidani Imperialist marines moved through the brush, guns leveled, hunched over, moving silently.
A man walked by. The squad of marines vanished into the brush, and watched. The man was dressed in white labcoat, his face turned away from the marines. Suddenly he turned around...a lecherous growth of beast infection on him. Glaring angrily at the hidden marines, the brush around them turns red. The pyro emits a scream and yells "FOR THE EMPEROR!" and torches the brush, suddenly gunfire erupts as the marines begin shooting the infected man-thing, blowing off a arm and sending a leg flying, a splattering of blood seeps forth from the locations of severed limbs, the squad retreating as fast as possible, turning around and occasionally shooting back...
-----
The squad stumbled into the camp of the Imperials, by now only a platooon remained. The Defenders buzzed around lazily, attack bombers behind them. The squad of dazed sprinting heavily armored marines ran past the checkpoints and stumbled to the ground, one retracting his faceplate and yelling out loud.
"BEAST INFECTEES! I SAW EM WIT' MY OWN EYES! THEY'RE COMING THIS WAY!"
Suddenly the base came alive, Qu'jet heading to the comm.
"I repeat, unconfirmed reports of beast infectees on approach. Confirm."
Comm: "Thats affirmative, sensor ops detects several thousand entities approaching your position. The shuttle is en route and will be on site within ten minutes."
He takes off the headset and throws it hard against the wall, breaking it and stalking out, running to his interceptor.
What the fuck! They'd all be dead in ten damn minutes! They'd have to provide distraction, air coverβ¦
"Beast infectees confirmed! Getaway ride comin' in ten minutes! Hold the line until then!"
He turns around and walks backward slowly, looking to the pyros.
"Burn every blade of grass and weed around the base. Burn anything living that looks infected. There are no survivors on the surface. That last person was lucky. Burn everything else. The shuttle will arrive in ten minutes, if we're lucky there will be some of us who can get aboard."
Jumping into the cockpit and closing the canopy he quickly runs through systems checks, activating thrust vents and ascending to ten feet over the base.
"'Firm, something's movin' in, it appears to be...beast infected humanoids! My god...infected Taiidani Marines! Stay on guard! Defenders, Bombers, follow my lead. Take out whatever the heck is down there. We must hold them off until the shuttle arrives."
Shouts of "Aff" and "Very well" greet his ears, kicking afterburners he moves in, lowering altitude to 40 feet off the ground, arming dual plasma cannons, dual pod light plasma bomb launchers, and for the finale, a belly mounted automated missile production unit. Able to crank out 2 medium grade missiles per second (cleared to inflict massive/destroying damage on fighters, serious/massive damage to corvette, with a moderate damage clearance for capital vessels) with a initial stockpile of four. The firing rate could never exceed 4-5 per ten seconds. A bigger initial stockpile or more efficient production unit would slow down speed to unacceptable levels. Already his craft had a heavily upgraded heavy corvette engine, giving him a razor-thin edge over the standard interceptor in all engine aspects.
He could see the infected, a squad of marines suddenly aimed into the sky with MD-4 rifles. He did not hesitate and linked all weapons and fired a short burst, pulling up on the joystick gently and raking the ground with death, the launchers making a small, craft-shaking thud when firing, plumes of flame and smoke rise behind him, the glare lighting up the details on his face. Behind him the Defenders rake the ground with rapid-fire guns, attack bombers immolating anything on the ground with high-energy plasma, burning the enemy to ashes and cinders.
He pulled up his craft forward. The small column had been demolished. Enemy fire had damaged part of a tail stabilizer. Looking into the fast approaching dusk he could see what looked like a bunker, and infectees pouring out slowly. It was a subterranean exit, and the immolation had only vaporized the surface, having been set too lowβ¦this meant there could be survivors
Locking onto the bunker he flicked the missile switch and fired 4 missiles, set to proximity detonate, locking on a target inside the bunker, to detonate after entering through the door.
Pulling up his craft grazed a tree, the dull boom and shockwave rattling his craft. Turning his craft around he saw the shuttle land and take people aboard, the infectees had already swarmed the gates, the marines retreating to the shuttle in disciplined manner. Locking onto the cluster of infectees he fired four more missiles, the missiles scattered and detonated in a box around the swarming entities.
Bringing his craft to 20 feet off the ground he flew in for low level strafing, low enough to see the faces of the enemy, grotesquely altered with massive growths. A infected Taiidan marine raised his weapon and quickly died by plasma pulse fire. The last marine loaded aboard the shuttle and was off.
Radioing in the comm, he issued the one order that everybody wanted.
"Let's go home."
He gunned his craft and pulled up, followed by the other craft, radioing in one more time to command.
"Sir, there's a good chance of survivors down there. If the infectees made it maybe there are more survivors."
A unfamiliar voice spoke.
"Negative. We are going to burn this planet to ashes. Get your craft in and we will burn this place to dust."
He spoke up...what was going on? More people?
"Admiral, who is this new person?"
"This new person is Councilman Risseau. He is issuing a formal executive order to immolate the planet. My hands are tied."
He closed the channel and banged his fist on the dashboard. Damn!. There could still be people down there! Why!
As they breached the atmosphere the super-carrier launched a missile.
Comm: "Missile control, ETD 3...2...1..., we have detonate! Epicenter recorded. Shockwave traveling at 15 miles per second. Surface temperature approaching twenty thousand degrees centigrade. Probability survival ratio of any surface life: 1.27 percent.
Missile detonation successful. Command, third missile ready. Standing by for possible succession launch."
Admiral: "...no, another missile will not be necessary. All rear guard units report boarding. All units report in clean. No infections detected. Engage hyperdrive!"
As he got out of his interceptor, he observed the yellow-black color scheme on a heavy corvette. Imperial Council.
As the rest of the pilots filed out he walked and then ran to the heavy corvette, kicking the mag-sled.
"WHY! WHY! WHY! YOU BASTARD! YOU KILLED MAYBE HUNDREDS OF TAIIDANI! WHYYYYY!"
Several Taiidani Marines arrived.
"I'm fine...just...I gotta go."
He gets up, wiping some sweat off of his brow...taking a deep breath and walking calmly out, his political statement already made.
The next hour found himself very close to being arrested, but saved by politicial influence from several notable figures, including the Fleet Admiral of Force Group Alpha, the 2nd and 1st Elite Guard commanders, both of which planned recruiting him.
For now he was safe. But even then it was a limited safety. He was in front of a info kiosk, and typed out a few keys, acessing the tapes of the Burning of Kharak. He hadn't seen the recordings, after all he reasoned that he'd been there and needed not to see it. But todays senselessness...something drew him to the kiosk.
The kiosk was silent, and then began to play the recording.
One probe was visible, the static present began to clear, and then two were visible.
2 Fiirkans moved past the screen.
"Fleet trajectory calculated and locked in."
Suddenly the 47th Frontier Fleet, his former fleet exited hyperspace, the carrier Immortal Emperor clearly visible. The carrier launches fighters.
Scouts, corvettes, attack bombers, a myriad group of mixed craft rush the Scaffold.
"Orbital target acquired."
They'd locked onto the Scaffold and prepared to burn it to cinders...
"What the...?"
The salvettes. He remembered their docility when they approached, moments before blowing them into dust particles.
"Watch the spread pattern... stay sharp."
That was him...Wing Commander Qu'jet. Ironic, to listen to himself...
"Group three moving in... allright now, stay together... ready... SPREAD!"
The fighters had rushed the scaffold and moved through the scaffolds inner workings. The Missile Defense hadn't started yet, having surprised them quite early. They had never expected attack.
"Surface attack group to first positions..."
That was the task force commander. One by one the capital ships moved in like the grim reaper into high Kharak orbit.
"Incoming missiles..."
That was one of the Fiirkan pilots. Missiles launched in huge volleys at the Taiidan fleets and the fighters that came in close.
"Evasive maneuvers!"
The Fiirkan engaged afterburners; eventually a missile slammed into the cockpit and blew it away, another missile hitting a destroyer as it went past.
"We're hit! Damage report!"
That was the destroyer, minor damage he'd been told later on.
"There's another one..."
A Raachok light corvette was destroyed.
"All targets acquired."
The Kaarks had come in close, and readied bomb launchers, firing into the stabilizers and joints of the superstructure, followed by the rail gun slugs of the destroyers, and ion beams.
"Multiple impacts confirmed."
That voice would be Captain Elson, in the Skaal-Tel class destroyer Typhoon...sent in to supervise crew training, transferred from the Kapella. Eventually he would become more famous then he'd ever bargained for...
"Target destroyed."
As the fighters banked off, he could see his own Triikor weaving back and forth away from the burning structure, the Scaffold finally exploding and sending debris and fire in all directions, barely missing a fighter, and sending up clouds of mineral clouds...
"Prepare for immediate surface bombardment!"
The Immortal Emperors commander...his voice ringing loud and clear, preparing to finish the mission.
"Standing by."
The replies of the techs in the flight bay loading the atmospheric deprivation warhead into the cruise missile.
"Commence surface delivery."
Self-explanatory. Warhead launched...
"Delivery confirmed."
"Surface temperature fifteen-twenty-three and climbing..."
"Surface temperature seventeen-forty-two and stable..."
"Estimated immediate casualties: 98 percent."
"Requesting clearance to dock"
"Clearance granted."
"Primary directive achieved."
"Prepare for secondary directive."
"Prepare for hyperspace."
The last seconds had gone by rather quickly; the secondary objective was to destroy the cryo-trays.
The recording ended and the screen went blank.
It was midnight. Nobody was up; the bare minimum crew was up. Nobody would be in the central kiosk. Suddenly he was reminded of the fragility of life. Emotions began reappearing, he sniffed and wiped away a tear, one of countless past, present, and future shed for the inhabitants of that desert world. The Hiigarans had made a memorial of that world...
He got up and walked away, unnoticed, the kiosk turning off by itself.