34: Jur's Anvil
Toron had never been a very religious sort. Neither had his father, so it was no surprise that he had inherited a similar level of agnosticism. He was not against it, in fact he felt that the religious foundation of Calsharan society had set them on a good path, but to actually go to a church and pray to some all-seeing deity had never struck him as appealing. The dominant Calsharan faith centred around a single 'Creator', and somewhere along the line Visala's messianic reputation had become intermingled with it. Although it was apparent she had been as mortal as anyone else, there were certain subsets of the state religion that considered her almost as much of a deity as the omnipotent Creator. At the very least, she was considered by many to be a messenger and a prophet.
As such, he felt a little uncomfortable with the presence of the Tornyan cleric who was walking along the line of assembled Sky Riders, blessing them all with the Creator's star icon in hand. The item was little bigger than his palm, attached to a gold chain. No doubt it was worth a small fortune. The cleric was a severe looking male with deep red skin that was dulled and marked with the rigors of age. If Toron had to guess, he estimated the cleric was well into his seventh decade.
The Sky Riders stood to attention outfitted in their full gear, helmets off and tucked under their left arms. The hangar bay here was small, as expected for a frigate-class warship. General Durren stood nearby, along with the ship's commander and a few lower-level staff officers. Beyond the atmospheric shielding over the hangar entrance lay the swirling blue-white energies of hyperspace. Soon, they would emerge in the system where Jur's Anvil was located. By the end of the hour, they would be in the asteroid field and flying into the heart of enemy territory.
The cleric blessed each one of them, and Toron bowed his head slightly as the preacher came before him. He muttered some ancient prayer, tapped Toron on the forehead and then the middle of his chest and then took his hand. Toron looked up, meeting the old cleric's withering gaze.
"Good luck, Captain," the old male said, with all sincerity. "And may the Creator's light guide you to victory."
"Thank you, sir." Toron felt like adding something more, such as: I think the Creator has better things to do. He decided against it, as now was hardly the appropriate time for glib remarks. The cleric, having reached the end of the line of assembled Sky Riders, left Toron and returned to his place alongside General Durren and the frigate's command staff. Durren took this as his signal to step forwards, all eyes in the room locking on him.
"I won't take up too much of your time," the General declared, after he had spent a moment looking over the assembled Sky Riders. "And I won't attempt to make things sound any better than they really are. You all volunteered for this; you all know what you're heading into. We are delving deep into hostile territory to strike at the heart of their war machine. Some of you may not make it home alive. That is the same for anyone in the service when going out in the field, but for you Sky Riders it is all the more likely. The enemy is powerful, they have numbers and firepower on their side. Stealth and surprise are your advantages, and they can both be snatched away in the blink of an eye. Fight hard, move fast and stick together. Get in, do your damage and get out. The assault force will move in ahead and launch strikes against outlying enemy positions around Jur's Anvil. That will be your cover."
An uneasy silence fell upon the group. General Durren was an honest man, and it showed all the more here and now as he spoke to the assembled team. There was no point in dallying around the truth of the matter, that truth being that the mission they faced was suicidal and desperate. The Alliance of Free Systems needed a major victory, and taking out the facility orbiting Jur's Anvil would be it. If that place was destroyed, it would set back the fighter development of the Union forces by many months. The Union leadership no doubt figured the place was well secured, being nestled only a short jump from the home world and surrounded by a ring of automated defences. There was always a taskforce on standby, ready to jump into the system if any larger enemy force was detected.
Toron had pored over the available intelligence on what they faced over and over again, spending hours awake in the evenings doing so. He had the layout of the facility committed to memory, and he had stressed to the others in the team that they should attempt to do the same thing.
"Recover any intelligence you can, but don't take too long. The enemy will be on us in force given enough time. And if that happens, then your exfil becomes more difficult. I would like to say that this ship will stick around until everyone is back, but I cannot guarantee it. The truth of the matter here is that this frigate is too important an asset to lose."
And the Sky Riders were expendable. He need not have said it, they all knew this already. It was, perhaps, another reason to try and return from this mission alive, as if to spite the Alliance High Command: See, we made it back alive. Weren't expecting that, were you?
"I wish you all the best of luck," General Durren added. "You know what we fight for. We fight against tyranny, we fight for the future of our children and grandchildren. We fight for a better Union, united under a legitimate leader. Do not ever forget all this. It'll keep you in the game out there." He locked gazes with Toron. "The team is yours, Captain. Make good use of the time we have until we arrive in-system."
"Sir." Toron snapped to attention and gave the gruff General a sharp salute. They had little time left now. This ship would emerge from hyperspace right outside the asteroid field, counting on the distraction provided by the larger strike force to get in without drawing immediate attention. The Sky Riders would be off and the frigate would pull back, all within minutes. With any luck, those monitoring the situation from the orbital facility would not notice the emergence of the Sky Riders. Of course, so much of this mission hinged on such things that Toron would not be at all surprised if they were found out straight away.
He turned to look at the others, who all stood to attention. General Durren and the other officers, along with the preacher, turned and filed out of the hangar. This left the team alone to make their last-minute preparations for the mission ahead.
"All right, at ease," Toron announced, and the Sky Riders immediately relaxed. Sergeant Norvak, who had been standing a few places to his right, turned to him then and strolled over. He and the Sergeant had said little to one another since the up-front discussion they had shared back on the orbital training facility. However, they had reached some level of cooperation, speaking to one another when necessary for the purposes of whatever task was at hand. Norvak approaching him outside of any training exercise was unusual, and Toron looked to him expectantly.
"Sergeant, something the matter?" He asked him.
"Nothing's wrong, Captain. I just wanted to talk to you, you know, have a normal conversation." Norvak stood somewhat broader and a good inch taller than Toron, and to many he made for an intimidating presence. At this moment, however, he appeared somewhat uncomfortable. Toron noticed this, quirking one brow ridge in a curious manner.
"That is, I wanted to tell you that you're not such a bad officer. I've served with all sorts, and a lot of those from the home world aren't worth a damn. You, though, you're a little different."
"So, I'm worth at least some kind of 'damn', then?" Toron asked him, offering him a smirk. Norvak frowned, but otherwise gave him a shrug with his broad shoulders.
"I suppose if you want to put it that way, then sure." He still carried some bruises from their brawl some days before. Toron appeared much the same way, the deep tones of his face marked with the odd darker blotch.
"Why thank you, Sergeant. That's very nice of you to say." Toron could tell that Norvak was not often the kind of person to approach something in this manner. He took this latest development as positive progress. "You're a good soldier."
"You gave me back my rank," Norvak added, referring to Toron's unexpected promotion of him from Corporal to Sergeant. "I should have been more receptive earlier. Thank you, Captain. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't, Sergeant." Toron glanced about the hangar to the rest of the team, who had spread out and were adjusting their equipment for the fight ahead. They each checked each other's flight-suits, ensuring all was set accordingly. There was, Toron noticed, a sense of anxiety between them all. It was a controlled but underlying feeling that was made evident in some of the smaller movements the others made. Pre-battle nerves, as expected, and Toron could feel some of it himself. Nothing out of the ordinary, certainly not for an apparent suicide mission.
"When this war is over, I'll take you to the home world," Toron suggested, locking eyes with Norvak again. "You can see how us haughty home world types live."
"I don't know if I want to see that, Captain," Norvak replied. "Still, if you're paying for the trip then you can count me in."
The fast entry pods were small, capsule-shaped armoured shells that could each hold a single occupant. They were disposable, intended for single use and as such built for function over form. At a glance, they looked like caskets and the resemblance was not lost on the Sky Riders. It was a long-standing joke amongst the unit that the fast entry pods would simply deliver you to the grave at supersonic speeds in a readymade coffin, and in a way that was likelier than one would have preferred.
The engines fitted to the rear of the pods were somewhat crude as well, the power cells they used more volatile than those fitted to similar small craft. Without the inertial dampeners on board, the power those engines offered would be enough to crush the occupant from the sheer G-forces. The brakes were another matter, and the rate at which they slowed the craft for a quick exit also would have offered a crushing force if the inertial dampeners were not in operation. As such, it was critical that these systems were checked and rechecked prior to use. Even now, minutes before the intended launch, Toron was going over his own pod with a careful eye.
The pods lined the hangar, each fitted upon a simple platform that worked on a rail. On activation, the platform would be unlocked and a spring mechanism would hurl the pod along the rail and out of the hangar opening. Toron had his own pod open, his helmet placed within as he went over the engine systems. The others were doing similar, with Lieutenant Varsla a short distance behind him with his own critical eye working over the pod's internal workings.
"All good, Lieutenant?" Toron closed the systems access panel near the engines and turned to his second-in-command. Varsla looked his way, nodded his head but otherwise appeared unconvinced.
"Just make damn sure," Toron added. He stood up, plucked his helmet from out of the pod and fitted it over his head. The heads-up display within the visor immediately came to life, readouts splaying across the edges of his vision and indicators appearing over all of the team members around him. Some were climbing into their pods, others were checking their weapons and making their final adjustments to their flight suits and the attached thruster packs. General Durren and the frigate's stern-faced commander watched them through a window at the hangar's left-hand wall, whilst a technician sat before them going through the last few points of the pre-launch checklist.
"One minute to hyperspace emergence," the frigate's commander stated, his voice sounding through the speakers dotted about the hangar. "Take positions and secure yourselves. We'll launch as soon as we're in-system."
Toron gave the officers an affirmative wave before he turned to Varsla.
"I'll see you out there, Lieutenant," he said, and he climbed into the pod. He lay stomach down, his gloved hands tightening around the two control pads at either side, positioned forward of him such that his arms were almost completely outstretched. With a flick of a switch, the hatch above him slid closed and the interior began to depressurise. His suit's oxygen systems kicked in, immediately pumping his helmet full of air. Taking a deep breath to make sure the mix was good, he settled into the somewhat uncomfortable position and slowly exhaled. Across his visor readout, team members were giving the 'go ahead' signal. Indicators blinked from green to yellow and back to green, a sign that they were in their pods and ready to go.
The walls ahead of him shifted, the holographic display coming to life. It provided a one-hundred-and-eighty-degree view of what lay outside of the pod, compositing information received from his heads-up display so that the readouts on both matched and did not take up too much of his view. Toron's vision filled with the swirling energies of hyperspace, as visible through the hangar opening ahead.
"Twenty seconds to hyperspace emergence." The frigate commander's voice sounded a little muffled, now that Toron was sealed away inside his supersonic 'casket'. He tensed up in preparation for the imminent departure, and through the display around him watched as the blue-white streams of hyperspace abruptly vanished, scattering themselves into a million points of light that vanished almost as quickly as they appeared. And then, with a silence that only space could muster, the frigate had appeared before the hulking purple mass of Jur's Anvil.
A gas giant, it took up the entirety of the hangar's opening. The asteroid field lay ahead, rocks seemingly still against the backdrop of the planet's streams of blue and purple gases. And there, at some far-off speck, Toron could see the slightest point of light gleaming off of something silvery. The facility, and between him and it a whole lot of space rocks and untold amounts of sensors and automated guns. He felt his stomach fall back somewhere past his feet as the rail keeping his pod in place activated, launching his pod and the pods of the entire team out through the hangar bay opening and into the vacuum of space.
Now there would be no turning back. Toron swallowed, hands clenching tight around the control levers before him. They offered directional and velocity control, a necessity when the engines at his pod's rear came to life. He could feel them behind him, but with no atmosphere within the pod itself he could not hear them. The pod began to pick up speed, a gradual process and at first a misleading one. From his perspective, little changed, save for the size of the asteroids scattered before them. Given the distances involved and little else around him to compare his positioning with, reaching the necessary high velocities was not so easily seen, or even felt. The inertial dampeners did their work, giving the trip within the pod little actual sense of acceleration. And yet, a glance at the readouts before him told him that he was about to break the speed of sound.
The pods of the team moved into two simple wedge formations, one for first squad that Toron lead and one for the second squad that was under Lieutenant Varsla's command. They spread out somewhat, offering two different targets for any outside observers. Somewhere else in this system, a small Alliance strike force comprised of two corvettes, three frigates and one cruiser had engaged an outlying patrol. A distraction, little more, and they would push as much as they could until they took too much damage or attracted too great an enemy force to stick around. As for the frigate that had deposited the team out here, it had retreated, leaving the team truly on its own. It was all down to them now, and the first phase of their mission was close to completion.
The asteroid field was becoming thicker. Small pellets of debris, micro meteors, pelted against the armoured hull of Toron's pod. It was a similar story for the others, and he heard some worried mutterings through the team's comms channel. The first marker, as presented on his heads-up display, would be where they would abandon the pods and proceed with their thruster packs.
"Engage brakes on my signal," Toron said. The pod was shaking around him, the engines pushed to their limit. The brakes would create a reverse thrust that would slow the pod enough for a safe exit, although the overall G-forces upon that exit would be potent enough. A Calsharan could withstand their fair share of gravitational pressure, more so than any human, but even with that in mind the following actions had to be taken carefully and timed precisely. Pull out too quickly and one risked becoming disoriented on exit, leaving them vulnerable to enemy fire or to simply splattering themselves against some space rock.
"Now!" Toron called through his comms, and he pushed hard down on his dual controls. The whole pod lurched around him and he felt the vibration of the forward-facing thrusters as they kicked into life. The blips and indicators marking his teammates on the display before him all seemed to lurch back at the same time, and he gritted his teeth as he narrowly avoided a shuttle-sized chunk of pock-marked space rock. Ahead, the facility was clearer, a silver set of boxes carved into the side of a larger asteroid. This one was kept in a stable orbit, assisted by thrusters and anti-gravity technology. Before it, a sea of spiralling rocks of all shapes and sizes awaited, as did the sensors and automated guns hidden amongst them all.
His display began flashing green, indicating that a safe exit speed had been reached. He pulled back on the controls and reached for the release mechanism with one hand. This required a solid pull and twist, and as such would not be easily activated by accident. As soon as twisted on the lever, the top hatch above him was ejected away, spiralling into the blackness above. The weightlessness became more pronounced then, now that he was no longer tucked securely within the pod. With a heave, he sprang free, sending the pod to go on drifting as the last of its momentum carried it onwards. The reverse thrusters continued to slow it, ensuring that it did not go plunging onwards and potentially alerting the enemy.
Now Toron floated freely, surrounded by various space rocks of all shapes and sizes. The other team members were emerging from their own pods, and as soon as they were free of them they were entering their assigned formations. The first squad formed up on his positions, and now Toron adjusted his thruster pack and launched himself for the distant facility. The others followed, with Lieutenant Varsla leading the second squad much further off to his left.
They had to move quickly. Readouts danced about his heads-up display, automatically mapping out the most efficient path towards the facility. It updated on the fly, compensating for the debris between him and the intended destination. Toron set his thruster pack to full, his arms tight by his sides as he sent himself racing into the asteroid field like an oversized bullet. Sergeant Norvak was close behind, the other five members of his squad keeping in formation. They moved like a coordinated flock, keeping their formations tight but not so as to form a larger target on the enemy scanners. They needed to keep the element of surprise for as long as they possibly could, and so each member of the team was required to place a minimum distance between them and the nearest other member.
Toron operated automatically now. He swooped and weaved around the various chunks of rock, his heads-up display warning him of anything that came too near. An alert sounded as he rounded one large asteroid, highlighting the presence of a scanner attached to another, smaller chunk of rock that drifted far off to his right. There was still some ways to go to reach the facility. To be detected now could prove dangerous, but there was little choice to be made here than to press onwards. Toron practically winced as he and the others shot on by this asteroid and the gleaming silver dish that served as the scanner. Would it detect them as anything other than apparent debris? There was no telling for certain. They simply had to hope for the best.
"Captain, we just passed the first row of defences." Varsla's voiced sounded in his helmet's comms. Toron kept his focus on the path ahead, zooming between two drifting chunks of rock that had to each be the size of a mansion back home. He saw a pair of automated gun platforms beyond them, each kept in place in a delicate gravitational dance as to keep them from drifting into neighbouring asteroids; both were upon platforms that carried small thrusters and anti-gravity devices. The gun barrels remained dormant, apparently oblivious to the presence of the oncoming intruders.
"Just keep quiet and keep going," Toron said, gritting his teeth. The thought that there was little else between him and the vacuum of space other than a sturdy, sealed layer of heat-resistant padding lingered constantly. One mistake could see him splattered across a rock or burned to a crisp. Too many G-forces could pulverise, and a sudden depressurisation could reduce him to pulp. So many things could go wrong here, and he found he had to put some real effort into keeping those many potential and unfortunate fates out of his mind.
The facility was properly visible now, appearing as a collection of grey metal structures built into the side of an asteroid that was a great deal larger than the rest. There was even a large hangar carved into the rockface, offering a way in that Toron had not counted on being open. He had been intent on the power generator's thermal vents, but if this hangar was open then it seemed as good a place as any to force an entry. That is, if it remained open, and as the group drew nearer he saw that the massive hangar doors were beginning to slide closed.
Were they detected? No idea, but the way in which the next set of automated guns suddenly spun into life suggested as much.
"All right, our cover's blown." Toron hit the accelerator on the controls of his thruster pack, which were set firmly within his palms. "Go fast and go hard." It was the best order he could give in the circumstances. Suddenly, the asteroid field around him started to shoot on by even faster than before, and the computer organizing his heads-up display was now working even quicker to guide him to the intended destination. Clear paths came and went almost as quickly as they appeared, and warnings began to flash across the display. At that moment, the guns opened fire. It took him a moment to realise this, for the simple fact that they made no sounds in the vacuum of space. All of a sudden, his vision became filled with streaks of fast-moving plasma bolts that stood as a stark deep blue against the blackness of space.
"Captain, I'm hit…" The voice of one of the squad members, a young male by the name of Rorka, suddenly filled his ears, laced with a panic that was abruptly cut short. He glanced to his left, watching as the Skyrider in question went spiralling end-over-end, multiple plasma bolts having cut into his chest. Atmosphere vented from his suit in a burst of smoke, with flesh cauterising and snap freezing within seconds. Toron turned his attention to the way ahead, seeing the hangar doors closing further and further…
At these speeds, he would be splattered against them like a bug. And yet he kept going. The others could have broken off the approach, gone for the vents they knew existed along the flank of the facility. However, Toron saw a chance here and he pushed on, darting between volleys of plasma fire as more of the automated guns positioned around the facility started shooting. A veritable hail of plasma bolts seemed to fill his view, cutting through the empty space around him and in front of him. And yet, they struggled to land hits on such a small, nimble target. The hangar doors were still sliding closed, a slow and laborious process for such massive doors.
"Second squad, go for the ducts," Toron ordered through his comms. "First squad, stay with me. We can make it into the hangar."
"Are you sure, Captain?" Norvak's voice was filled with doubt. Nonetheless, he had moved into position on Toron's right, seemingly intent on beating him to the hangar. Toron did not reply, he simply kept his full attention on the way ahead and tried his best to ignore the insistent warnings his heads-up display was giving him.
He had to hit his brakes soon. Plasma fire was crossing through the space ahead of him. He rolled away from it, and the guns took a few seconds to adjust, only for those adjustments to be made useless as Toron weaved the opposite way. He was too small, too fast for the guns. And that hangar opening was so close, so very close…
He hit the emergency brake for his thruster pack. The universe seemed to lurch around him. It was only a small decrease in speed, enough to ensure a safer landing. As soon as he passed into the facility's artificial gravity field, then he would slow down even more. He could feel the tug of it now, growing ever more insistent. The guns around the hangar entrance could not turn enough to hit him now, and even if they could they were more at risk of damaging the facility itself than landing a hit on the intruder.
He was through the doors before he knew it. The gravity field was weaker in here, yet it was enough to start tugging him down to the floor. Toron managed one last adjustment of his heading, aiming for a walkway at the right-hand side of the large, cavernous space he had just flown into. There were fighter craft here, parked upon various platforms along the far wall, three levels in all. A few, he noticed, were of models he did not recognize. A cargo shuttle was parked near the top, connected to a docking clamp that had it suspended over the hangar altogether.
All these things he was able to just notice before he slammed into a pile of metal containers. They were small enough and light enough that they went tumbling every which way. The impact was enough to wind him, and Toron hit the floor gasping for breath, sliding and rolling along the length of the walkway. His hands scrambled for purchase, finding none on the smooth metal panelled floor. Without thinking, he activated the grapple launcher attached at his left forearm and sent the high-powered and penetrating bolt into the wall at his right. It latched hard into the rock, trailing behind it a rapidly extending length of high tensile cable. All Sky Riders carried these, a means for them to recover from a difficult landing. In Toron's case, he needed to slow his uncontrolled slide before he hit the wall that was closing in ahead of him.
The cable kept extending, until it finally hit its limit and all the slack left it in a fraction of a second. Toron felt some pain shoot down his arm and into his chest at the sudden pull the cable offered, and for a brief moment there he worried his arm was going to pop right out of its socket. However, the discomfort was fleeting and his uncontrolled sliding tumble ceased immediately. He was able to stop himself as he went sliding across the walkway, keeping from going over the far railing by digging his feet in hard against the base of the railing itself. And then, with some vague sense of disorientation, he realised he had stopped and that he was inside the facility. Or more specifically, the hangar from which their prototype fighter craft were launched.
He disengaged the grapple and scrambled to his feet. As he rose, he pulled his plasma carbine from where it had remained attached to his back. The weapon had been set into a smaller, more compact mode and with the push of a button, both the barrel and the stock extended automatically. Weapon at his shoulder and eyes down the sights, he scanned his surroundings, taking in the multiple levels. The hangar was vast, and it had not looked quite so big when he had been hurling towards it.
"Lieutenant, can you hear me?" There appeared to be no enemy contacts in sight, but that was bound to change. Toron activated his comms and attempted to reach Varsla, but static only filled the airwaves. Being inside here with the hangar doors closed may have been interfering with the signal, although he suspected some form of jammer was at work. Moving to the railing he had very nearly fallen through, he looked down to what had to be at least twenty metres to the floor of the hangar. Down there, a single ground attack craft was parked. It was a standard model, broad and somewhat wedge-shaped and capable of carrying a payload that could level an entire city. At least there was no shortage of escape options here in the hangar.
He heard footsteps behind him then, and he swivelled around with his gun raised. He relaxed as soon as he saw Norvak and Private Korvka, both of whom had made it inside. They had retracted their helmets, the headpieces folding back down into the collars of the flight-suits they wore. Toron, with the push of a button, did the same. As the visor dropped away, fresh air rushed into his face and took a long, generous lungful of it. The air within the hangar was not carrying the same tinge as the recycled air that had been within the suit.
"Captain," Norvak said. Both he and Korvka had their weapons at the ready. Norvak had chosen a somewhat heavier plasma rifle, unlike the carbines Toron and Korvka carried.
"Where are the others?" Toron asked them. He had a feeling he already knew the answer.
"They didn't make it," Korvka replied. His voice was dour. "And our comms are being jammed. We can't reach the Lieutenant and his team."
Toron nodded in acknowledgment. They were cut off, for the time being. Looking about the hangar, he sighted a set of double doors at the end of the walkway.
"All right, we're still on mission. We find out what we can and wreck the place." A simple enough plan made difficult by the fact that the facility was large and likely full of enemy soldiers. None had come out to greet them just yet, but that was probably going to change in a moment or two. They had all memorised the layout, and that was provided the enemy forces here had not rearranged anything since the civil war had started.
"Command centre first," Toron said. "Come on." He motioned for the other two to follow. Norvak looked a little doubtful upon hearing the intended destination, but he simply shrugged and started following. Korvka trailed along at the rear, appearing ill-at-ease. This was his first real mission after all, so some uncertainty was to be expected. The three of them hurried deeper into the heart of enemy territory, expecting trouble and more than ready to tackle it head-on.