Beneath the Face of Saturn: Chapter 2
"Gamma Squad launching now, Captain," Ensign Will Hagen reported. He watched his screens intently, verifying the successful launch of each member of the squad. "Gamma squad away, sir."
"Thank you, Ensign," Captain Henry answered. "Commander, status?"
"All departments ready, sir. Main guns standing by." Commander Xanatos grinned. "Let's give 'em hell, Captain."
"Acknowledged, Commander," Captain Henry replied with a slight smile. "Ensign Hagen, take us down to high orbit."
"Aye, Captain."
The Normandy's thrusters kicked in and eased the frigate down toward Enceladus.
"Keep us even with the rest of the fleet, Helm," Capt. Henry ordered, "We don't want to make ourselves a nice pretty target."
Will kept one eye on his view of the other ships in the Fleet. The other watched the altimeter. The window of opportunity between the altitude at which frigate's long-range guns would become effective and where they would come into range of the pirate guns was very small. Will wanted to nail it. He called out distance to target altitude for the helmsman as they slid down toward the surface.
"High orbit, Captain," Will reported as the Normandy settled into the narrow margin of safety.
"Orders, Captain?" Commander Xanatos asked.
"Main guns, fire at will," Captain Henry said. "Make it count and watch your targets. We've got friendlies down there."
Will could feel the thrum of the main guns through the deck. He scanned for new targets and fed in the coordinates to the targeting computers, keeping a careful eye on the blips representing the jumptroops. He listened to the comm traffic at the surface through the tiny link nestled in his right ear. He gave priority to those installations giving the platoons the most grief, saving the lulls in the battle below to target the more peripheral turrets.
"This is Sierra-Three," one of the many voices called in his ear, "Taking heavy fire from a couple of hostiles at coordinates N 38.33.30 dash W 122.38.15 Please advise."
"Roger that," answered Morris, one of the e-frame pilots. "I have them in sight. Hang tight and I'll see what I can do."
"Acknowledged," came the reply. "Sooner rather than later if you please."
"Orders from the Resolute, Captain. Captain Marcus is ordering the fleet to move to low orbit and continue the assault with all batteries, sir."
"Status report on those enemy installations, Ensign Hagen?"
Will quickly checked his scanners. "We're showing more than 90% destroyed, Captain. No sign of other hostiles, sir."
"Take her down, Ensign," Henry ordered. "Bring auxiliary weapons on-line."
"Aye, Captain."
The Normandy and the rest of the Exo-Fleet maneuvered closer to the moon Enceladus. Craters pock-marked its surface, some ancient, and some only minutes old. The smoking ruins of gunnery installations were visible by photoimagery. The Fleet began to pound the moon's surface as the jumptroops pulled back into tight little clusters.
Suddenly Will saw a flash of red on his console. His blood ran cold.
"Captain!" he called out, "We've been targeted by multiple hostiles." His fingers flew as he scanned the surface. "Hidden ground batteries, sir. Both SAM's and pulse weapons." Captain Henry leapt for the comm to confirm. "They've locked and are firing, sir."
"They're too well-protected to target with just the long-range weapons," Captain Henry noted. "This is going to be a slugfest, ladies and gentlemen."
"All hands, brace for impact," Xanatos ordered over the ship-wide intercom.
The frigate rocked as they were hit with a glancing blow by one of the blast cannons. The ship listed hard to starboard, its stern thrown upward by the force.
"Stabilize," the captain ordered. "Keep a lock on those targets."
"Thrusters off-line, sir."
"Engineering, this is the captain." Henry opened the comlink to engineering. "Get those thrusters back on-line. We sitting ducks here."
"Aye, Captain," came the reply. "We're on it."
-----------------------------
Down in engineering Lieutenant Amy Hiatt sighed in exasperation and turned away from the console. Grease smudged her cheek and she brushed back a lock of shoulder length brown hair with a dirty hand. She took a quick survey of the engine room. Her staff was working as fast as they could to reroute thruster control where it had been severed close to engineering. Several worked on rewiring the physical connections while others worked on getting the computer to recognize the new pathways.
Amy dropped to her knees and wriggled in next to Ensign Peter Watts, repositioning his light so that the beam was focused on the rewiring he was working on.
"Thanks," he grunted. Amy handed him the wirecutters and told herself she didn't really need to do all the repairs herself. Sometimes delegating was the hardest part of being the Chief Engineer.
"How long?" she asked. Peter paused and turned to look at her.
"It's all melted together back there, Lieutenant." He reached in deeper and pulled on a mass of wires so that she could see. "I've got to get this teased out and then rewire it."
Amy looked at the mess a minute, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "You know," she said, "If you bypass just the A-Five, A-Eleven, C-Six, and D-Five relays, we can get the dorsal port aft thrusters on line. That way the captain can get us leveled out and we can work on giving him the rest of the variable aft thrusters after getting those cleared out. The bow thrusters are gone for a while, I think."
Peter looked closely at the wiring, running it through in his mind. "Yeah, I got it," he said, grabbing the wirecutters again. Amy grinned and tapped him on the shoulder as she wriggled out of the crawlspace.
"Let me know if you need any help," she told him.
-------------------------------------
"I need some help over here!" Unholy bellowed down on the moon's surface. The jumptrooper knelt at his fallen comrade's side, covering her while keeping an eye peeled for any movement. He swung his blast rifle around as he scanned, his finger poised on the trigger. With his free hand he worked at loosening the straps of Montrose's jumppack.
"On my way," Captain Jose's voice sounded in his helmet. Unholy glanced back over his shoulder and saw the captain's compactly muscular form bounding toward him, staying low to the terrain. The jumppack on his back blazed with each jump, aiding his low leaps across the surface. Combined with Enceladus' gravity of less than one-fourth earth-norm, the jumppack enabled Tom Jose to cover tens of meters at a time. Soon he was kneeling down with Unholy.
"Sierra-Three right flank, check your spacing to cover us," Tom ordered over their platoon channel. "Hold your positions." Tom reached down and pulled the straps back over Olivia's body. Her environment suit and lightweight body armor were scorched but didn't appear to be compromised. "What happened?" he asked.
"Got hit square by a blaster," Unholy told him. "She was laying down suppression fire for me. Her helmet checks out, and she's breathing. I think her suit's intact."
"Yeah," Tom said. "Alright. Crow?"
"Yes, sir?"
"We're not getting anywhere here without air support. Start pulling over this direction," Tom said. "Montrose is down and we've got a hole." He checked his hand-held scanner. "You guys gather up and concentrate on that ridge to the north. It's got Baker-Two pinned down and it looks like the E-frames are too busy trying to take out the big guns. Get those guys out of there and we'll firm up with them. I'll be with you in a sec."
"Roger that, Captain."
Tom and Unholy rolled Olivia off her pack, sliding it out from underneath her body. Crow held her on her side while Tom pulled out the collapsible litter and let it unfold. They rolled her onto it, careful to hold her head and neck stable with her shoulders. Then they wrapped her up tightly and sealed the plastic cover over her body, helping to protect her from the moon's low-pressure atmosphere in the event of a slow leak in her suit.
An explosion rocked the ridge to the north, the pressure wave hitting them moments later.
"Sierra-Three, report!" Tom yelled.
"The fusion pack on that gun battery blew," Crow reported. "We were under cover but Baker-Two was pretty close." Tom and Unholy could hear him grunting as he scaled the ridge to take a look-see. "We've got multiple wounded, Captain," he reported. "I repeat, multiple wounded."
"How bad, Crow?" Tom asked, tonguing his comm to their private channel.
"Real bad," Crow's voice was grim.
"What the hell happened?" Tom and Unholy worked quickly to get Olivia secured for transport. Taking advantage of the low gravity, Unholy tucked her under one arm and grabbed his blaster. Tom covered him as they started moving toward the ridge.
"Looks like probably a faulty pack casing," Crow said. "It took a couple of hits but nothing that should have caused a breach." Tom reached the base of the ridge and made sure the rest of the platoon was secure before climbing up the embankment. He knelt down next to his XO.
"Jesus," he breathed. Bodies lay strewn across the rocky terrain beyond the rim of a glowing red crater. Some of them moved. Others didn't.
Crow showed him his radiation indicator. "Pretty hot, Captain. Even with the radiation shielding in the suits I'd say we've got about fifteen minutes to clear this area."
"Normandy, this is Sierra-Three," he called over the ship channel. "I've got multiple wounded here in a fusion pack explosion. We're evacuating now. Mission aborted. I repeat, mission aborted."
"Roger that, Sierra Three. Please advise."
Tom pulled out his map and scanned it. "Here," he said, pointing it out to Crow. "We can rendezvous with the shuttle at these coordinates. We can get everybody at least to the next ridge in fifteen minutes if we make two trips. Then it's only about another ten to get them to that flat area where the shuttle can land." Crow nodded in agreement.
"Alright, then. Normandy, this is Sierra-Three," he called. "Send an evac shuttle to the following coordinates, N36.25.30 dash W110.38.16. Rendezvous in twenty-five minutes. Better send additional medical personnel. We've got more than we can handle here."
"Roger that, Sierra Three. Evac shuttle en route."
"Alright, troops," Tom Jose said grimly. "Let's get these guys out of here. We don't leave a man behind."
The rest of Sierra Three scaled the ridge and poured over into the crater. Rapidly they assessed who was alive and who wasn't. The bodies they threw into a pile on top of large litters that could be carried by four people in this low gravity. The injured were packed up according to how bad their environment suit was damaged. Those who could move were steadied in flight over to the next ridge. It made Tom nervous to have them hanging over the horizon like that, easy targets, but it was the fastest and easiest way to move them.
Unholy slung his blaster rifle over his shoulder and scooped up Olivia and one of the Baker-Two troopers. Jets blasting, he rapidly spanned the distance to the next ridge. He wondered how many of the wounded would die in the next twenty-five minutes. Not that they would leave any of the bodies. Jumptroops never left a man behind. On their horse or on a shield, every last man and woman made it home to their families. Unholy just hoped there were more alive than dead when that evac shuttle reached them.
---------------------------
"Lt. Rhodes," James Little stuck his head through the door to the surgical suite, holding a mask over his face.
"There it is…" Karen used the tiny vacuum suction to keep the depths of the wound visible for her cohort, Dr. Vela. "Can you get it, Rafael?" With her other hand she retracted the tissue back just a bit more, careful to stay out of his way as he went deep to try and grab the piece of shrapnel.
"Got it," he said. "Hang on." His brown eyes looked up toward the ceiling while he concentrated on holding the slippery metal in the forceps of his medical glove. He breathed a sigh of relief when he dropped it into the basin along with all the other wicked little pieces. "Thanks."
"Lt. Rhodes?" James repeated.
"Yeah, James. What's up?" Karen rolled her neck around, feeling the strain of such painstaking work. The gloves were good at locating the general location of a fragment, but they still had to be eyeballed to be removed.
"It's the bridge, ma'am," the big nurse said. "There's been a fusion pack explosion on the surface and they're requesting additional medical personnel to go with the evac shuttle."
"What's triage like right now?" she asked.
"Nothing that can't wait. Just some minor lacs and fractures."
"Go ahead, Karen," Rafael said. "Nothing else is showing up on scan and I can have this closed in a few minutes with Rosie's help. Right, Rosie?"
"Sure, Dr. Vela."
"You sure, Rafael?" Karen asked. Her heart beat fast in anticipation of being that close to a real battle.
"Go on," he said. "Rosie and I make beautiful music together. Right, Rosie?" the handsome doctor wriggled his eyebrows at the battleaxe scrub nurse.
"Sure, Dr. Vela." Her voice was dry as a bone. "Except when you go flat."
"All right, then," Karen said, stepping back from the table. Outside she took off her medical glove and started it through sterilization while she stripped off the barrier gloves and surgical clothing. She put them in the recycler where they would be broken down into their component materials, sterilized, and reconstituted.
She grabbed her glove and slipped it back on as she walked swiftly out to the main sick bay. She glanced around as she started grabbing some supplies and adding them to the basics in her bag. A couple of patients, but nothing Rafael would need help with. He'd be all right, as long as there wasn't another bad hit like the fusion pack explosion.
"Let's go, James," she said. He nodded and slung his own pack over his shoulders. Karen noticed the blaster strapped to his leg and looked up at him with an arched brow.
"Just in case," he said. Together they trotted down the corridor toward the launch bay.
"There you are." One of the many people bustling around the evac shuttle turned and tossed a couple of environment suits at them. "Here, put these on," he said. "And we're not going to be pressurized on the first leg of this run so you might want to grab some helmets on the way. Move it, we're on a time-table."
Karen slipped on the protective gear, checking the battery pack that supplied the suit's thermoregulatory and air circulation systems. She and James helped each other seal their helmets and she felt a thin layer of air spring to life in her suit.
"Right this way, ma'am," the man said, gesturing them toward the open doors of the shuttle. "Watch your step." He made them both pause while he checked their seals, and then led them inside.
"Stow your gear there, and have a seat." Karen slipped her bag into the holding bin and sat gingerly down on one of the padded bucket seats that lined the bulkhead.
"I'm co-pilot and gunner Lt. (jg) Gerald and that's our pilot Lt. Wilson over there," he gestured toward another young man climbing up into the cockpit. "We're both licensed med-techs as well." Wilson waved at her and grinned.
"Get ready for the ride of your life," he called down to them.
Karen felt a sinking sensation. She smiled weakly at him, then gasped as Lt. Gerald pulled the harness straps tight over her body.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said, "but you'll be glad for it once we start evasive maneuvers. When we land, pull these releases here, here, and here to remove the harness." He pointed out the releases to her and she studied them a moment, making sure she knew what to pull where. He slapped the top of her helmet lightly. "Good to go?"
Karen nodded and concentrated on her breathing. She looked around the shuttle while Lt. Gerald repeated the process for James. The cockpit was elevated up, on top of the bulk of the powerpack for the main guns located beneath the shuttle's nose. The rest of the shuttle was lined with crash seats, each equipped with a harness. Studs dotted the spacious empty area in the middle of the deck.
"What are those for?" she asked. Gerald glanced over his shoulder as he gave a last tug to James' harness.
"That's what we use to strap down the litters," he said. He slapped James on his helmet. "Good to go?" James grinned and nodded.
"Let's rock and roll," he said, jumping up into the cockpit and strapping in. Wilson gunned the engines and the shuttle began to vibrate with power. Karen felt her ears popping and her suit fill slightly as the launch bay depressurized. She couldn't see it, but she could imagine the hanger bay doors opening before them.
She felt the deeper throb as Wilson lifted the shuttle off its landing gear and eased it out of the hanger. She swallowed and swallowed as they left the artificial gravity field generated by the Normandy.
"Hang on back there," Wilson's voice was transmitted through the comlink in their helmets. "It's about to get fun."
Karen felt herself thrown against the harness as the shuttle leapt forward. She began to have serious second thoughts about the wisdom of going on this mission.
------------------------------
"I'm having second thoughts about this." Tom Jose stood with his XO and looked out over the moonscape before them. "It's too open, too quiet." The rocky surface stretched out before them, its harsh whiteness softened by the night. Ambient starlight illuminated the terrain somewhat, augmented by the computerized enhancement provided by their battle helmets.
Crow looked around, scanning for any signs of pirate activity. Behind them the rest of the Sierra-Three platoon stood guard over their fallen comrades from Baker-Two. A few of the Baker-Two jumptroopers were helping stand guard despite their injuries, but many had more serious problems. Then there were the litters of dead.
"I don't see anything, Captain," Crow said.
"They're there," Tom replied. "I can feel it." He turned back to the platoon. "Preston, you and Ramirez take the wash to the west. Dagger and Unholy, take the east. See if you can sniff out any pirate stench."
"You got it," Robert said. He and Fred Ramirez slipped silently out of camp, using their jumppacks very sparingly. Fred followed the corporal down into the wash, keeping one eye on the terrain and one on his scanner. With an ambient temperature of about -200 C, the moonscape appeared deepest blue. Fred could see an eerie red ghostly image following Robert as his body warmed the air immediately surrounding him. He could also follow a faint trail of footsteps back the way they came, fading rapidly in the cold.
Leon, more commonly known as Unholy, picked his way carefully down the ridge to the east. Behind him Dirk Dagger was using the motion detector and infrared scanner to look for pirates. Leon's surgically altered eyes were widely dilated, doing their best to make up for allowing less light to penetrate the iris. His enhancement served him better in flash conditions, when he was less likely to be momentarily blinded by bright lights than non-altered humans. Fortunately he had learned to compensate for his disadvantage in low-light situations by relying more on his other senses.
"Unholy," Dirk whispered in his ear. Leon found it amusing how people always whispered when they were trying to be quiet, despite private comm channels and the fact that their voices couldn't be heard more than a few inches outside their helmets in this low atmosphere.
"I've got something on infrared." Leon stopped and backed up next to Dirk where he stood intently reading the scanner. "Over there, about 10 o'clock."
Leon looked at the scanner, noting the faint red smudge tainting a rock surface. He glanced up at the rock itself. He snapped his binocular lenses down into place but couldn't see anything. "Still there?" he asked.
"Yeah, but it's fading."
"Alright, so somebody's been in the area with a heat source and put it down on that rock. Not too long ago, too." He keyed into the officer's channel. "Captain, we have possible hostiles in the area, about half a klick to the northeast from your position."
"Preston, are you and Ramirez picking anything up?" Tom asked.
"No, sir. Clean as a whistle over here. No sign of nothin' except us."
"Then go ahead, but keep your asses down and your eyes peeled."
"Roger that, Captain."
"Sierra-Three, this is the evac shuttle Glory. Closing in on your coordinates with additional medical personnel on board. ETA three minutes."
"Good to hear your sweet voice, Glory," Tom said. "Be advised that there are possible hostiles in the area. Proceed with caution."
"Acknowledged. Glory out."
"Should we start moving the wounded, Captain?" Crow asked. "Or stay here in better position in case of attack?"
Tom stared out over the rocky area below them. "Well, the shuttle sure as hell won't be able to pick 'em up here. Let's get 'em going, but I want everybody to have at least one hand free at all times. We'll make as many trips as we have to."
"Yes, sir." While Crow began rounding up the troops Tom watched the night sky, and finally saw the rapidly growing smudge on the starfield that was the evac shuttle. As he watched he saw the braking engines fire, slowing the shuttle's full-tilt run for the moon's surface. From the length of time they blazed, Tom figured the pilot had to be redlining the g-forces. He hoped the guy got them off this rock just as fast.
The shuttle pilot played a good game of chicken, too, pulling up at just the last moment. He settled the vessel down on the surface with something less than a crash but more than a thud. The first wave of jumptroops was moving down off the ridge toward the shuttle when all hell broke loose.
Blaster fire erupted all around them, shooting wild all over the place. The ground was rocked by a concussion as a grenade went off somewhere. Jumptroopers scrambled for cover, trying to locate their attackers. Tom crouched down behind a rock, trying to get a fix on the larger blast cannon that was tearing up the rockfield around them.
"Sound off, troops, and give me your status," Tom called out over the platoon channel.
"Mengele here. I've got Hernandez and Watson with me, both out cold. Can't see much from here."
"Unholy and Dagger here. We're both uninjured, and I don't think they know we're here, sir."
"Roger that, Unholy," Tom said. "Maintain your position for now, but see if you can help us locate the shooters. Next."
"Henderson, sir. I'm alright, and I think I can get a path to that blast cannon."
"Go for it," Tom answered, "but keep your tail down, mister. Don't be a hero."
"Aye, sir."
"Preston, where are you and Fred at?"
"Maintaining our last position, sir. Fred and I are okay. Had a scare with some rocks when that grenade went off, but otherwise we don't appear to be targeted."
The rest of the squad sounded off in order, with the exception of a few ominous silences. Blaster fire continued unabated around them, kicking up dust and small rocks and obscuring the area with haze. The jumptroops tried to shoot off a few rounds in defense, but after about five minutes Tom ordered them to stop when it became apparent they had no visible targets.
"What's your status, Henderson?" Tom asked.
"Almost there, Captain," Will Henderson's voice was muffled, and Tom could here him grunting slightly as he slid along in a low crawl toward the cannon. "No resistance yet, sir."
Tom's mind raced furiously as he huddled down behind his cover. Something was wrong with the situation. Besides the fact they were under heavy fire.
"Captain, it's Henderson."
"Go ahead."
"I've reached the cannon, sir. There's nobody here. It's just blasting away on it's own. Can I go see if I can turn it off?
"Watch out for booby traps, Henderson."
"Yes, sir."
It seemed forever before the blast cannon ceased firing. Since it wasn't accompanied by an explosion, Tom figured Henderson had avoided any booby traps.
"Henderson, sir. Looks like it was set on automatic with a variable firing pattern. It's jury-rigged six ways from Sunday and running off an old battery pack. Would have run out of juice in about another ten minutes anyway."
Tom cursed. Light blaster fire continued to pepper the ground around them.
"Alright, let's identify the rest of those blasters and disarm them. Approach with caution and for God's sake watch for booby traps."
"I don't get it, sir? What's going on?" Henderson asked.
"It was a distraction, Private. The pirates aren't even here."
"Then where are they, Captain?"
Tom looked over at the evac shuttle. "You don't want to know, son."
---------------------------------