The battle of Devastation reef

two staying back to bag the few Hammers still living, plasfiber cocoons snapping taut with enough air to keep the occupants alive for two hours. Michael had insisted that anyone with a chance of survival be bagged, pointing out that there was a good chance the marines would be cornered somewhere deep inside SuppFac27 and that he did not want them shot out of hand for leaving wounded Hammers to die a painful death from asphyxiation. In the end, a reluctant Kallewi had agreed, but not before Michael had forced him to admit he had not volunteered for a suicide mission.

Satisfied that Kallewi had things under control, Michael turned back to check the command and threat plots. He was relieved to see nothing had changed. To the west, the tattered remnants of the Fed forces that had run interference for the dreadnoughts had cleared Hammer space, the ships of Assault Group under Commodore Jun’s command the last to leave. They had done a good job recovering survivors; Michael was pleased to see that only a few wayward lifepods from the two northern task groups had slipped through the net. Beyond the Feds’ reach and ignored by the Hammers, they drifted out of control into the confused maze of gravity rips to the east of SuppFac27, chased by Cleft Stick. It was lucky for them, he had persuaded Jaruzelska to let him keep his light lander, Michael thought. Without it, he had no way of getting them back; he had no doubt that the Hammers would have left them to die.

Michael turned back to check Kallewi’s progress. He was doing well, the marines racing into the heart of SuppFac27, the Hammer opposition weak and fragmented, brushed aside by the single-minded ferocity of Kallewi’s attack.

The marines stopped before another air lock door. Machinelike in their precision, they overwhelmed its security post and planetary defense troops in a matter of seconds. Leaving the medics to deal with the wounded and a handful of marines to cover their withdrawal, they were quickly on the move again.

“Command, Assault Leader. Update,” Kallewi said. “One hundred meters ahead, there’s a passageway to the left. According to our guide, twenty meters farther on is a drop tube that accesses SuppFac27’s power distribution center, and beyond that are the primary fusion power plants. According to the schematics, the rock wall is about five meters thick. Our guide says the access doors are too heavily armored for us to shoot our way in, and I’m inclined to believe him. We’ve run some quick and dirty sims, and we have a 100 percent chance of breaching the plants’ containment if we can get the demolition charges down there. So my plan is to do just that and get the hell out.”

“Command, roger. Concur. Any sign of organized defense yet?”

“Sadly, yes. The Hammers have worked out what we’re up to, but they’re struggling to get their people in the right places. I suspect their c-cubed is shot to shit, they don’t have any holovid coverage of our attack, and there are a lot of panicky technicians getting in their way. I’ve stationed marines to cover our exit route; they’ll make sure we aren’t ambushed when we pull back, but it’s going to be tight. Estimate egress inside thirty minutes. Timers on the demolition charges will be set for forty.”

“Command override on the charges?”

“Will be suppressed. There’s no going back on this. Once they’re triggered, they’re going to blow, and we’ll leave proximity-fused claymores behind to discourage the Hammers from getting too close.”

Michael shivered; claymores fired down rock passages would shred any Hammers unlucky enough to get in the way. “Roger. We’ll be waiting here for you.”

“Hell, I hope so. There are will be some very pissed Hammers looking for a piece of my ass when this is all over. Kallewi out.”

Kallewi’s avatar disappeared, and Michael sat back to think things through. He hated leaving the marines with all the heavy lifting. He studied the scorched surface of the asteroid for a moment before comming Sedova. He had an idea. “You copy Kallewi’s update?”

Sedova nodded. “Yes, sir. Wish I could do something to help.”

“You can. See that heat dump, fine on your port bow at about 500 meters?” Michael positioned a target indicator over the remnants of a ceramcrete tower.

“Yes, sir,” Sedova said. She sounded puzzled.

“Okay, this is not in the plan, but we need to take some of the pressure off Kallewi. Get your lander across there. There’s bound to be a personnel access, probably a hatch, somewhere close. You have demolition charges in your ready-use lockers?”

“Yes, sir, we have.”

“Good. Find the hatch, blow it open, and send your load-master across to lob a couple of charges in. I’m hoping we can persuade the Hammers that we’re sending in another assault party.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“One proviso. Any time things start to go wrong, get the hell back here. I don’t want to leave Kallewi without a lift home,” Michael said. He suppressed a flicker of anxiety. Maybe dispatching Cleft Stick to pick up wandering life-pods had not been the smartest move he had ever made. Having a backup lander might have been the prudent thing.

“On it,” Sedova said, a quick blip on the maneuvering thrusters lifting Caesar’s Ghost off the asteroid before another burst sent the lander in a shallow arc across to the heat dump.

Something made Michael look across at Carmellini, a sudden cold shiver slithering its way up his spine. The spacer was hunched over his holovid, and his body language spoke volumes: Something was up. Michael forced himself to sit tight. Carmellini would tell him what was going on when he was ready.

“Command, Warfare, sensors,” Carmellini said, his voice tense. “Positive gravitronics intercept. Estimated drop bearing Red 10 Up 5. Multiple vessels. Gravity wave pattern suggests pinchspace transition imminent. Designated hostile task group Hammer-7.”

“Damn, damn, damn,” Michael cursed. Another half hour and they would have been on their way out of this godforsaken place. Not that the Hammers were so incompetent as to leave him alone for that long. Two lots of reinforcements had dropped in-system already; there would be more, and they would not be long coming.

“Command, roger. Get me a range when you can,” Michael said, fingers tapping an impatient tattoo on the arms of his seat.

“Sensors, roger … stand by … Hammer-7’s estimated drop datum Red 10 Up 5, range 70,000 kilometers.”

“Roger.”

“Command, Ghost,” Sedova said. “You were right. There is a personnel access lock. My cannons have blown the hatch off, and Trivedi’s on her way over there. I should be on my way back in five.”

“Fine. I’ll maintain station. You copied the drop report?”

“Did, sir.”

“Well, don’t hang around. I’m sure the Hammers will not be ignoring us for long. Command, out.”

“Command, Warfare. Task group Hammer-7 dropping, Red 10 Up 5, range 72,000 kilometers.”

“Command, roger.”

Michael watched the threat plot intently while Reckless’s sensors analyzed the new arrivals. Things looked bad. The Hammer task group was the usual mixture of cruisers and escorts; there were a lot of them. An icy calm settled over him. The latest Hammer reinforcements were more than strong enough to reduce Reckless’s chances of getting away to zero. And they had dropped less than thirty minutes from him, close enough to turn Reckless into a ball of ionized gas five times over. He commed his AIs into conference.

“Okay, team. Shit hits fan time. Options?”

Warfare took the lead. “Three. Stay, run, or send Reckless out to meet them while Caesar’s Ghost remains to recover demolition party.”

“Operations?”

“Agree with the options,” the operations AI said. “However, recommend Reckless’s crew transfer to Ghost. That renders Reckless expendable. In any event, we assess her chances of survival to be nil under any scenario.”

Michael marveled at the AI’s calmness in the face of its own death. “Warfare. Your recommendation?”

“All AIs concur. Off-load crew to Caesar’s Ghost, send