Chapter Two
Two Kilometers Inside Irken Main Defensive Wall
21 Kilometers from Tallest Tower, Miyuki Square
0325 Hours Local Time
"Captain." Exclaimed Tristan ever so silently in desperation.
Dib looked down, weapon still aimed forward. Tristan was crouched beneath Dib, his weapon aimed forward as well. That empathetic look, the one that said Tristan needed an order to follow in a situation so close to death. It reminded Dib of that rainy day in Seattle, as he and Arkady were about to enter the alley way to bury those Irkens and link up with the rest of Alpha team.
Dib looked up and lined up his sights, telling himself that the cover of a Russian Spec Ops team wasn't worth the life of another team member.
Someone yelling in the distance; not English nor Russian, but Irken. The yells were enough to make the approaching Irken them turn around, just in time for the fireworks.
The cold Irken night air lit up in a brilliant ball of blue flame tinged with purple as the ground shook from underneath Dib's boots, nearly costing him his balance as the shock wave rippled throughout the base.
The Irken a few yards away from Dib and Tristan didn't even flinch, he just stood there and watched the flaming mass grow bigger and higher into the night sky, two Irkens burst out from behind the Voot Cruiser and thundered down the ramp and toward the blast, plasma rifles at the ready. Another Irken simply walked out from behind the Cruiser and looked to where the blast had originated from, then to the Irken in the uniform.
"Colonel?" Said the Irken pilot in his dark purple uniform in his native tongue.
"It seems we'll have to skip inspections of the outer defenses." Replied the Irken began as gunfire and plasma discharge erupted in the distance. "Contact Major Ade and tell him he better have his men ready and those positions fortified."
"Right away, Colonel." Said the pilot, then saluted and returned to the interior of the ship.
The Irken snapped around again to face the location he had been approaching, just as Tristan switched off his Cross-Com. Maybe with some luck, they could figure out who this Irken was. Just as it seemed like the Irken was going to make his way toward Dib and Tristan again, the two Irkens who had rushed off returned, one embarked upon the ship, running up the ramp, the other stood in front of the Irken in the white uniform.
"Sir, Russian Special Forces operators are in the perimeter. Eyeball detected a major increase of activity in the vicinity, there could be more coming."
The Irken in white simply shrugged and gestured for the Irken in front of him to board the ship. The blue eyed Irken turned to face Dib's location once more, and for a moment, that gaze left a hollow wake in Dib's chest. It felt as if the Irken had looked right into Dib's eyes with his own cold alien ones. A moment later, the sound of the Voot Cruiser's engines firing up sent the Irken into a pivot as he started for the ramp of the craft.
"Tell me you got a picture." Said Dib as he leaned closer to Tristan and whispered loud enough to be heard over the engines.
"That I did, Captain." Replied Tristan, tapping his Cross-Com with his index finger.
Dib nodded in satisfaction and got on his radio as the Voot Cruiser's rear ramp closed and got airborne, it's nose pitching forward as it began to move forward.
"Vadim, what the hell was that!?"
"Saw an opening in the window of opportunity, Captain." Yelled Vadim over the gunfire coming through the radio simultaneously as it echoed through the air. "They got close to the weapon. We hit the switch on them and killed five gun drivers. Sweeping up four more, could be more coming. I recommend you get that weapon offline while we have the site busy, out."
"You heard the man Volker, move on that weapon. I'll watch your back while you get those charges in place."
"Copy that Captain." Tristan nodded and shot up from his position and started for the weapon, Dib following close, scanning the area high and low for any enemies.
"Captain, it's Schleck, over."
"Ghostex Lead copies," Said Dib, setting down behind a hard case crate behind some sandbag like objects set up around the plasma cannon. "What you got?"
"I'm on the roof of the complex overseeing the site. You've got a whole mess of Irkens mobilizing a few hundred meters from your location, I'd advise for you to bug out as soon as possible."
"Copy that, Schleck. Ghostex Lead out." Dib turned to face Tristan, who was studying an odd looking device that had been retrieved from a black satchel. "How are we doing with those explosives Volker?" ASked Dib in urgency, facing forward again, sweeping the area with the barrel of his rifle.
"I can't arm it." Said Tristan.
"We don't have time for screw ups Tristan. What do you mean you can't arm it?"
"I can read the Russian, it's just this other type I can't read. And the trigger system is nothing I've ever seen before."
Dib snapped around. "Let me see."
Dib stuck out his hand and took a hold of the tile thin square packet of explosive material with some strange box with wires attached to the front and back of the packet. Dib could read the Cyrillic type, telling him the TNT equivalent force of the packet as well as which way was the front and back. But some strange alien print was on the box, which Dib assumed were the more vital instructions. Dib didn't recognize it though, if it were Irken, he'd have it armed in no time, but it wasn't Irken at all.
"Vadim," Began Dib though his mic. "How the hell do we arm this thing?"
"Take the damn-" Vadim's transmission cut into static as a light of energized blue plasma erupted about the same spot where Vadim would be held up. "Turn the handle clockwise, push it inward and close the clapper, out!"
Dib cut the link between him and Vadim and dropped the strange device to the ground. He flipped the charge around and grasped the handle on the back and twisted it, pushed it inward and it locked with a click. He frantically searched the device before spotting another handle sticking out the side at an angle, he pushed it inward and the device emitted an electronic beep that repeated in one second intervals.
"Go, go!" Cried Dib as he pushed Tristan forward, both of them sprinting further away from the emplaced weapon at a rate of knots. One heartbeat. Two heartbeats. The brilliant light erupted from behind Dib with a boom and a shock wave filled with heat lifted him off his feet and sent him hard onto the concrete. He, as he hoped Tristan knew as well that they couldn't stay there much longer, so he got up on his feet and helped Tristan up by his arm and pushed him forward again as he looked back to the burning wreckage and cued his radio.
"Lakota, Schleck, this is Ghostex Lead. Secondary objectives have been destroyed! Meet us at the infiltration point with cell two, out." Dib ran forward a moment before he looked back once more and activated the mic once more. "Zavezda cell one, this is Ghostex Lead, we're making our way to the sewers, over?"
There was no response from Vadim, and there was no firefight audible to Dib, so his first thought was that they had either been captured and killed, and unfortunately, he didn't have the time to check.
"Captain?" Asked Tristan.
"Let's go."
"Captain, it's the-"
"I know." Interrupted an old, Russian speaking Captain.
The silent tension on the bridge of the Belov Class heavy nuclear powered missile cruiser could not be anymore deafening than it was as the ship's Captain simply stood in front of the main viewing window with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Sir, we need orders." Echoed a voice in the long slender bridge.
Captain first rank Tikachenko, with his three large gold stars placed in a triangle formation upon his black and and double yellow striped shoulder boards simply nodded. Another man standing by the Captains chair near the rear of the bridge marched briskly toward Captain Tikachenko and when he had reached him, he simply shot a shocked look at the Captain.
"Sir," Whispered the man. "The crew needs orders, now."
"The situation is under control, Karakayev."
"Sir, I have-"
"I said," Interrupted Tikachenko. "The situation is under control."
"Captain, I don't mean to-"
"Captain Second Rank Karakayev." Boomed Tikachenko's voice throughout the bridge in Russian. He took a moment to collect himself and spoke in an easier voice. "Contact the Lenin and the Vlasov, tell Captain's Kadurin and Zhilin to have their weapons and supporting ships at the ready. Master At Arms Batov?" Called Tikachenko, fixing his gaze backward.
A man stood up from his station and the sound of boots coming in contact with the steel floor echoed throughout the bridge multiple times and rapidly as the man in his black uniform and matching black visor hat came thundering down the center of the bridge, where Captain's Tikacheno and Karakayev stood. Master At Arms Batov reached the two Captain's, quickly snapping to and saluting, his concerned eyes facing outside the ships viewing window.
"Prepare the men," Tikachenko began. "Have all defensive weapons online. Arm the missiles and have the men in allgun batteries ready to fire upon my command." Tikachenko turned to Karakayev. "Captain, you have your own orders."
"Yes, sir!" Both Captain Second Rank Karakayev and Master At Arms Batov called in unison and snapped to, finishing off with sharp salutes before pivoting on their black boots and running as the bridge began to fill with chatter among one another. Karakayev was already yelling orders over the collective voices as the men behind the voices started tapping on their keyboards at a million words per minute, and Batov returned to his station, speaking into the intercom system and activating the general quarters alarm.
"Captain!" Cried Karakayev. Tikachenko stayed his feet and with his hands still clasped behind his back looked over his left shoulder and raised a questioning brow. "Kadurin and Zhilin are making preparations and deploying all fighters and support craft to the forward line. Master At Arms Batov has already gotten word out and self preparations are nearly complete. Attack stance will be made in thirty seconds!"
Captain Tikachenko simply nodded and looked back into the darkness. The darkness that reminded him of those days he would spend in the dark, crammed subbasements of the bunkers, fearing the moment when an Irken Death Squad would find them and dispatch a plasma grenade through the front door, and before anybody knew what was truly happening, himself along with the rest of them would be dead.
'On my mother's grave, you're not breaking this line.' Thought Tikachenko as he squinted into the darkness and into the face of death that was approaching at a rapid rate.
"Captain Karakayev," Called Tikachenko. "Are the main weapons primed?"
"Yes, Captain." Replied Karakayev, just as the bridge's floor began to vibrate, a tell tail sign of another ship within close proximity of the bridge passing either by her side or overhead. Just as Tikachenko thought so to himself, a smaller ship in comparison to his as well as Captain's Kadurin and Zhilin's ships roared over head and into the viewing window with a flight of space and orbital capable fighter craft, and before long, the main viewing window was filled with a fleet of supporting ships and fighter craft... It reminded Tikachenko heavily of the adversaries fleet ahead of him.
"Sir, Vice-Admiral Kozlov of the Spire as well as well as Rear-Admiral Kovpak from the Joseph V. Stalin Carrier Strike Group will be joining us shortly. They estimate twenty minutes."
"Good. We'll need all the help we can get... It appears they've added a few additions to their armada as well."
"Of course, Captain."
"Sir!" Cried a voice from the station to the left of Tikachenko.
Tikachenko turned his body to find an operator with his black uniform and shoulder boards with three gold bars on them without any visible stars, a Petty Officer First Class. The man was standing with his arm raised in the air, the mic of his headset raised above the single electronic monocle, his HUD to help him maintain other sections without having to switch screens at his terminal.
"Yes, radar officer?" Asked Tikachenko, waiting for the Petty Officer to make an announcement over the now lighter chatter.
"I've detected one more Bludgeon Class accompanied by three Providence Class cruisers with escorts just off to the main Armada's east, approximately seven kilometers until they are within range to support The Massive!"
"Sir!" Cried another voice, and soon after, another man stood to his feet. "Tima of the forward craft has detected weapons charge. The Massive is preparing an attack!"
A hallow wake burrowed itself within Tikachenko's chest left him breathless as he couldn't believe how quick the Irkens were to attack... But then again, they were Irken.
"Master At Arms, open doors one through sixteen and engage the nuclear missiles! I want priority on the Bludgeon Class ahead of us!" Tikachenkov turned to face the rear of the bridge and started to make his way to the command chair. "Karakayev, get on the horn and tell Captain's Kadurin and Zhilin to focus their nuclear weapons on those Ring Cutter's, if they get into formation they can rip the Minsk apart!"
"Yes, sir!" Replied Karakayev.
"Sir, all defensive weapons are active. All gun batteries are prepared to fire once we are within range!"
Tikachenko nodded briskly in Batov's direction as he activated the shutters on the main viewing window, he looked outward once more as the shutters slowly close, a holographic image bringing up a virtual feed of the Irken Armada ahead of them.
'And so our dangerous game of chess begins.' Thought Tikachenko.
(End Chapter)
