CRISIS
Saotome's Irregulars stood at attention in Ferryboat's hanger. Captain Saotome finished his brief inspection, then stepped back.
"At ease."
The pilots shifted, hands behind backs, feet set a precise distance apart. It was not a goofing-off position; their attention was still firmly on the captain.
Saotome flipped open his folder. "CIC has pinpointed the location of a Zentraedi capital ship closing on our position. The ship is of a type that Intel refers to as a Scout Cruiser. The ship is being escorted by Female Powered Armour. Green has launched to intercept them; Skull is rotating onto the cats as we speak.
"Our orders are to board and capture the Scout Cruiser. Secondary goal is to capture at least one live Zentraedi."
He waited for the murmurs to die down, then continued. "I'm shaking up the squadron order for this. All Rapier pilots will form into First Flight; all Valkyrie pilots into Second. Green, you'll take the S; I'll take the B-Type Rapier. Third Flight remains unchanged.
"Hendrikksen, your primary job is flak suppression. Get in close to that ship and shoot anything on its surface that looks like it might shoot back. If you get a moment, try and find the landing bay.
"First Flight's job will be to escort Ferryboat One and Two, and to support the following boarding action.
"Third Flight will be aboard the Ferryboats, three to a shuttle. Upon entry, I want Third to break up into three fire-teams, with either a Spartan or the Rifleman in each, supported by two Rapiers. The Rifleman will pair up with the Invader, as well as my Wing, and will proceed to the bridge. Second Fire Team will locate and secure the engine room; Third Fire Team will perform a sweep-and-clear of all crew spaces.
"Call sign for this mission is Web. Any questions?"
Sergeant Harris, one of the Tomahawk pilots, raised a hand. "Any luck for us ground-pounders to get backseaters?" The Spartans had room for two crewmen; the Tomahawks, three.
Saotome shook his head. "None such, sorry. Your fire-control computers should be up to the job, though; it should be a simple environment. Any more questions? No? Then dismissed, and good luck."
"The tragic destruction of Toronto merely serves to drive home the point that the military cannot be trusted with authority!" Lin Kyle had attracted a small crowd at the Nekohanten. "Not only are they holding sixty thousand people prisoner on this ship, but their reckless and criminal actions over Toronto were responsible for the deaths of over five million civilians! Rumour has it that the deaths were caused by the malfunction of a piece of experimental equipment, a malfunction that caused a massive explosion! These are not--" Kyle's fist slammed into the table, punctuating his statement. "--the actions of a morally correct government!"
Miriya watched the show from a table in the back of the restaurant. She had decided long ago that this rabble-rouser could not possibly be her quarry; though she had heard stories of his fighting prowess, he was obviously a coward. She rubbed her forehead; she was still a bit dizzy, still suffering somewhat from the stun blast.
"Feeling better?"
She glanced up, to see the old woman who ran the restaurant--Cologne, that was her name--balanced on her walking stick near her elbow. "Yes, Sister. I'm better." She shook her head. "I've failed you; I could not stop them from taking the warrior Shampoo."
"You did what you could. Even I have had to bow before modern technology." She frowned. "But one thing puzzles me. One of the people I spoke to said that the abductors recognized you."
Miriya became wary; she could not risk giving away her cover. "It is possible, yes..."
"Then you might know where she is?"
"Possibly..." She bit her lip. "But I think it would be difficult to recover her at this time."
Cologne stared at her more closely. "And where might she be?"
"I--" Miriya realized that lying would not help her; this old one was like Exedore, able to see through any deception. "I believe that they were Zentraedi."
"The alien giants, eh?" She considered this. "According to eyewitnesses, they were hardly giants. One was described as being somewhat puny."
"They have the ability to change their size. A special chamber--"
"Change their size?" The old woman cackled. "A very useful ability, indeed. But how do you know this?"
"I--" She hesitated. "I've been speaking with some of the officers..."
The old woman shook her head sadly. "You're lying to me, girl. Why is that, hmm?"
Miriya cursed silently. She was still operating in the dark on so many issues; how was she to know what the Micrones did or did not know about the Zentran?
The evacuation klaxons started to sound, and Miriya breathed a sigh of relief. Escape from the interrogation of this...Microne? Meltran? She still wasn't truly certain!
The old woman cackled again. "Good thing we have a shelter built right underneath this restaurant. Big enough for everyone here." She let her gaze travel across the room. "Except that they've all elected to go somewhere else. Ah, well. It'll be just you and me down there, girl."
Miriya cursed again. Her luck was not at all improving.
"Azonia to the Gerikai. Begin your attack run now; concentrate on the left-side projection."
She didn't wait for the destroyer to acknowledge, but immediately shifted to the Microne primary radio frequency. With any luck, she'd be able to tap into their communications.
Ahead of her, the remains of the Microne's Green Squadron was falling back, and the Skull was moving up to take their place. Of the forty-eight powered armour she'd launched with, five were destroyed, three were towing the Zentraedi Battle Pod towards her home cruiser, and eight were out of position, owing to their attack run on the Zentraedi Theatre Scout. She had hammered the Micrones, but the approaching reinforcements were among the best in the Micronian fleet.
Her sensors pinged again, and she spotted more craft departing the Protoculture Fortress--twelve fighter-types, and two transport shuttles. She clicked her radio freak again.
"First wing, with me. Prepare to engage enemy fighter units."
One wing of powered armour against twelve Microne fighters was a gamble, but it wasn't like they were the Skull.
Flying the Rapier was an entirely new experience for Ranma.
The nimble little fighter was considerably more responsive than its larger cousin, and the fact that it was completely powered by reflex batteries--not a single fusion reactor onboard--gave Ranma a link to the bird that went way beyond anything he'd ever experienced, even in the S-Type. And now, with all the effort of glancing over his shoulder, he noted the eight Amazon powered armour approaching his flight.
"Not good." With a thought, he shifted to female form, then opened his Tac Net. "Incoming fighters. Flight Two, continue the escort. Flight One, let's give 'em a delaying action."
Flight One peeled off of the formation. Ranma reached for the gun pod, her mecha reconfiguring to Gerwalk almost without her noticing, and haloed the lead power suit. She flipped the carbine's fire selector over to one-second burst, and fired.
The gun pod whined, its smaller round and higher rate of fire making it sound much more high-pitched than the tearing-cloth buzz of the GU-11. The lead armour staggered under the hail of shells, but continued the approach. Ranma cursed, brought the underwing missiles on-line, and pickled them off. The remainder of the flight followed his lead, launching a small cloud of missiles. Each fighter was carrying four of the GH-12 Javelin missiles normally carried by Destroids; they were the first variable-fighter to be able to use the smaller missiles. But the powered armour suits were more than able to deal with the oncoming horde; cannon and laser fire detonated many of the warheads, and those that got through were simply dodged. Most of them; one suit was struck by two missiles and exploded silently, and a second was knocked off course by a near miss.
Ranma cursed, louder this time. "Keep 'em off the shuttles! Use the Stingers at point-blank range!"
The powered suits were launching their own missiles, tiny high-speed heat-seekers. Ranma gaped in amazement--she'd forgotten how many of the missiles the stupid things carried. The computer bogged down after the first two hundred new targets. She started pumping out flares, and pulled back hard of the stick.
To her surprise, most of the alien missiles were unable to acquire the fighters. It took a moment for her to realize why; Her fighters were not equipped with fusion engines. Still, the immediate panic caused by the missile attack left her flight strung out and in confusion. She scowled, and wished herself into the middle of the enemy formation.
The fighter folded, and she snapped around in a crescent kick, the fighter again reconfiguring in mid-thought. Her Soldier-mode foot caught the powered suit across the faceplate, smashing the transparent material. There was a sudden puff of frozen gas, and the suit stopped moving.
She had barely a thought to spare for the rest of her Flight, so intense was her concentration, but her ship's computer noted them, and subconsciously she knew what was going on. Lacking her link to the bird, the rest of the Flight was using more conventional tactics.
Four was still using her gun, hammering away at the enemy suit she faced off with until the alien mecha began to come apart at the seams. Kosuji's gun spun on empty, and she slammed home her spare clip. Six, one Edward Myers, had managed to get a hammerlock on another suit; he placed his fist against the other mecha's faceplate, and launched one of his wrist-mounted Stingers directly into the Amazon's face.
Her wingman had decided to go hunting on her own, and had bitten off more than she could chew; three Amazons were doing their best to box her in. Ranma folded the fighter again, appearing just behind one of the three Amazons chasing Clark. She levelled the gun pod, and put a hundred rounds into the back of the suit. The suit staggered forward, then spun and opened up with the chest-mounted autocannons.
"Oh, hell." Ranma ducked in under the streams of cannon shells, and fired a Stinger missile into the suit's carapace. The shaped-charge warhead blew clear through the armour, through the pilot, and into the fusion reactor, blowing the mecha to fragments.
Ranma glanced around the battlefield, to see that of the eight powered armour, six were disabled or destroyed, and two were moving away as fast as their thrusters could accelerate them. She smirked. Not bad for a first outing. Maybe I could get to like this bird.
Azonia raged.
She had realized, when the tiny Microne fighter had performed a space-fold, exactly who she was up against. The Micronian female demons. Obviously, their new mecha was not as powerful as the old ones; only their leader was performing as well as always.
She glanced down at her Tac Net. The Zentraedi battle pod had been recovered, and the Theatre Scout destroyed. On the other hand, Skull was driving her warriors out of the combat zone, there was no mistake about that. She was being forced to flee.
And the Gerikai was on its own.
The Valkyrie-B had a powerful radar system, with an effective range of over three hundred kilometers in space. Microwave radiation flickered across the surface of the alien scout cruiser, and a tactical map popped up in Hendrikksen's center VDU. He smiled as the computer allocated missiles from all six of the fighters to various targets on the surface of the ship, then recalculated and reallocated as he directed extra firepower against the three gun turrets on the top of the ship.
Compared to the complexities of fire-control in a Destroid, this was hardly work.
"Flight Two, this is Lead. We begin our run in thirty seconds. Fire your missiles when we break sixty kilometers. Respond."
"Two."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
"Six."
"Flight Two, this is One Lead. All enemy fighters have been routed. Skull sends luck. We are returning to escort Ferryboat."
Hendrikksen grinned. "Good to hear, Captain. We will pave the way for you."
The Valkyries peeled off, one by one, starting at Six. Hendrikksen pulled his ship into line as the formation began to dive towards the enemy ship.
The aliens didn't hesitate; they immediately started filling the air around the ship with flak. Flight Two was yanking and banking, desperately trying to keep out of Valhalla.
His computer beeped at him; Six had reached breakaway range, and had fired all twelve missiles. Five was lining up for release; Hendrikksen winced as a ball of energy slammed into the Valkyrie, turning it into a fireball. Then he hit the edge of the flak's effective range, and there was no time to think of anything but dodging.
Ferryboat One and Two touched down at the alien ship's primary docking bay. Ranma dropped down next to the shuttles, reconfiguring to Gerwalk as she did.
"Ninety seconds. First fire-team, with me. Second and Third, good luck."
The exact location of the bridge of this class of ship was known, due to radar imaging and recon cameras, but the internal layout was not. Luckily, it did not differ overly much from the cruiser that Hayes and Vermillion had been aboard, and Ranma quickly found her way to the bridge blast-doors. She flipped on her head-lasers, and started firing at the door.
"Captain! Hostiles on six!" Two powered suits had stepped into view behind the fire-team, and opened up with their light autocannon.
"Deal with 'em, Clark."
About the only good news was that the two armour suits were in far too close quarters to use their missiles, and the autocannons were mostly ignored by the Destroid's armour. The Rifleman brought up its GU-12 rifle/cannon, and smashed a teflon-coated depleted-uranium slug through the mecha's viewport. Clark, for her part, was bouncing her own autocannon rounds off of the second suit, but to no avail. The Rifleman traversed its main gun, and fired a second round, killing the other target.
"Captain." Clark sounded worried. "The Rapiers can't fight these units effectively in these quarters."
"Noted." Ranma stepped back and examined the blast-doors, which were glowing cherry-red from her sustained laser fire. She raised her arm, and immediately heard the growling tone from the Scorpion missiles in her forearm as they locked onto the doors.
"Knock, knock."
The blast rattled the mecha, and blew large amounts of molten metal into the bridge. Ranma and Goldstein stepped in, moving to the side to make room for Chavez' Destroid, and glanced around the bridge.
The compartment was a shambles; most of the consoles were damaged, and there were three bodies slumped over their posts. Only two of the alien giants were still moving, and one of those was face-first on the ground, trying to get up. The other held a laser pistol the size of Ranma's GU-10, pointed at her mecha.
And to Ranma's surprise, it was a female.
There was a click in Ranma's ear. "Second Fire-Team to Web Lead. Engine room is secure."
Ranma grinned. "Thank you, Harris." She clicked on the externals. "Please put down the weapon and surrender. Your ship is now under our control."
The Amazon scowled. "Meltraedi elihaar aeloth."
"I'm sure it's a wonderful language, but I don't speak it." She gestured with the gun. "Drop the weapon."
The Amazon fired it. Ranma threw up an arm, blocking the blast, then dropped the Amazon with a blast from the GU-10. She then whirled to face the other survivor, who had managed to get to her knees.
The smaller Amazon raised her hands, a defiant look on her face.
"Very smart, lady. Clark."
"Captain?"
"Cuff her." Ranma flipped over to Command Tac. "Web Lead to Base. Mission accomplished. One POW in custody."
"Lord Breetai will not be pleased with your interference, Azonia."
The Meltraedi commander scowled down at the micronized Rico. The spy's sense of self-worth had been overly inflated by the success of his mission.
"Don't worry, little man. You and your comrades will be going back to Breetai very shortly. I will even allow you to retain most of the Micronian artifacts. But this Meltran remains with us."
She looked down at the unconscious girl. "Poor thing, captured and brainwashed by the Micronians." She smiled. "Well, she will be pleased to be home."