FanFic - DP/UF - Crossroads [21]

[MegaZone]

------------------------------------------------------------TWENTY-ONE

"Niitaka yama nobore ichi-ni-rei-ya." ("Climb Mount Niitaka,
1208.")
--Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku

Five minutes later, a mighty array of fightercraft streaked
toward the AT&T, which had shrunk to a dime-size dot in the sky. In
the lead was Gryphon, strapped into the cockpit of his shiny new
VF-2XS Ultra Victory. The Ultra was the prototype for a new class of
Victory; like its predecessor, the VF-1FS Hyper Valkyrie, it was a
special command vehicle, equipped with a much more powerful powerplant
than the average (already overpowered) VF-2, tougher myomers, a better
sensor suite, and microwarp drives optional. For this mission,
Gryphon indeed had the warp nacelles installed; he wouldn't need the
missiles, but he might well need the speed. Besides which, the VF-2XS
had a couple of other neat toys packed into that particular options
package.
Arrayed behind Gryphon's fighter were the five fighters of the
Eight-Ball Squadron proper, in their gleaming white and black livery
with electric blue trim. They were all VF-2 series as well, Colonel
Currier's of the S variety, Lieutenant Morris' J, and the rest A's.
Flanking that was WarpZone, hovering protectively close to the attack
shuttle carrying Perry's Space Marine division. Also shadowing the
Salusian shuttle was Major Mark Luchini's Screaming Blue Electric
Death Squadron, five F-44G Rapier medium starfighters, bristling with
missiles and armed to the teeth. Red Squadron, an elite Viper group,
were in a standard diamond formation around the Triple-S shuttlecraft.
Behind them were almost every other fighter squadron in the Wedge
Defense Force.

<<< Roger Waters: The Bravery Of Being Out Of Range >>>

On the bridge of the AT&T, a subordinate radar operator turned
in his seat. "My lord!" he shouted. "Sensors have contact with
incoming targets! Hundreds of them, very small."
"Fighters," Largo said. "The idiots are sending fighters. Do
they think my masterpiece has the idiotic reactor-shaft vulnerability?
They should know that a ship this size cannot even be powered by
modern reactor technology. All stop; resume red alert. Prepare all
defenses and launch all fighters." He sneered. "They might have
bested us," he admitted quietly. "I might have known they would do
something stupid like this." He turned to the window to watch the
slaughter, his smirk rapidly returning.

"We're coming in on the AT&T's attack zone," Gryphon called to
all WDF fighters. "Look sharp and stay hot; it's going to get pretty
busy around here." Instants later, he was proven correct as every
turbolaser emplacement on the warworld opened up. Right on schedule,
the fighter bays opened as well.
"Eight-Ball Squadron from Eight-Ball Zero! The bays are
open--punch those burners and let's clear out that sec bay for the
shuttles! Blue Death, Red, WarpZone, cover the shuttles while we make
our run. Everybody else, work on those turbolasers, and try not to
get killed!" He rammed his throttles open and smiled with fierce joy
as the seat slammed into his back. This fighter reacted with such
speed and power it made his old VF-1FS feel like an ancient pickup
truck by comparison. The six Victories banked over as one and
screamed toward the secondary bay, just as twenty-five TIE fighters
cleared the doors.
All six Eight-Balls unleashed their missiles at the same time,
a boiling, writhing swarm of explosives that lanced out and filled the
space just outside the bay with death. Not a single TIE escaped.
Instants later they swept through the fireballs, already converting to
gerwalk mode, and into the bay itself.
Gryphon raised the GU-14A focused particle cannon that
replaced the old GU-11 chaingun and blasted a spread across the bay's
control booth, set into the wall on the far side. Wouldn't do for the
bay controllers to contact the bridge, after all. He was settling
into battroid mode in front center as the other five formed a circle
on him, just like the drills. The bay was still; no alarms hooted, no
more fighters launched. They were unnoticed, alone in an empty,
cavernous room.
WarpZone sent a roiling mass of missiles from its VLS system
into a swarm of TIE Interceptors boring in on the shuttles. Zoner
wanted badly to get into a furball, but he dare not get into heavy
maneuvering with passengers in the beta module. The Avenger ripped a
TIE fighter in half as the collimator-ring phaser on the beta acted as
a CIWS, protecting the transports.
"Keep those damn shuttles in tight! And keep the hell out of
the phaser's arc of fire! Zeta, come to por..." Whap! Laser fire
raked the WarpZone. "Hey! That scratched my paint! Die!" The
turbolasers stabbed out into space, ending in a fireball roughly the
size of a TIE fighter.
"Mother fucking sonofa--- DIE!" Haywire could be heard
screaming over the tac net. Apparently the Screaming Blue Electric
Death Squadron was seeing action too.
"Task Force Alpha, this is Eight-Ball Zero. The bay is
secure. Bring 'em in! Eight-Ball, wait until the shuttles are down,
then position for easy exit."
Within seconds, the two attack shuttles and WarpZone had set
down, and the rest of the fighters had been ordered to break off and
retreat. The Eight-Ball Squadron turned their fighters to face the
open bay doors and converted through gerwalk to fighter mode, position
for an instant egress. Gryphon made certain his CVR-5 was secure and
popped the canopy, climbing out to form up with the other five pilots
in white, black and blue and slinging his swords over his back. The
SSS's shuttle disgorged its seven-person team, and the 28 red-suited
Marines trooped out of their shuttlecraft; MegaZone, ReRob, Kei, Yuri,
Deunan, Briareos, and eight people in blue-and-black Federation
Security suits disembarked from WarpZone. They all met on the other
side of the airlock doors, where the wide AT&T corridors diverged.
"Okay," Gryphon said, turning to survey the team. Zoner in
his red-and-black CVR-5; Kei and Yuri in their black suits, the
shattered hearts painted on the shoulder plates repaired; ReRob, his
artificial arm conspicuously unsuited; the five Eight-Ball pilots;
Jaime and her seven hand-picked guards; Perry, the three black stripes
very noticeable on his upper arms, marking him senior Salusian
officer, and his 27 good men and women; Gordo and his SSS, just like
they were back on Musashi that day.
"Here's the basic plan. Find as many different ways to the
bridge as you can. Stay in contact on the secure band. Perry, Gordo,
Tricia, and Jaime, you have province over the people under your
command--send 'em where you think they'll do the most good. Zoner,
Kei, Yuri, Rob, Deunan, Bri, you're on your own, just like me. Do
whatever you feel necessary. Good luck everyone--with any luck, we'll
meet on the bridge in less than an hour, and this battlestation will
be ours."
"Luck, Captain," said Perry. He and his marines trooped off
down the nearest passageway.
"See you on the bridge, sir," said Finney quietly, and, with a
hand signal, led her squad into the next passageway over.
"We're with you, Gryph," said Gordo; his usual Predator's
hunting armor had been supplemented with an armored, custom-designed
pressure system, and made him look even less like a living being and
more like a terrifying death machine. (Which he was; few knew that
the fierce Predator was also one of the Wedge Defense Force's best
entertainers...) "I never copped to that rap on Musashi. We'll see
ya on the bridge--I'll clean Largo's skull for a trophy for you when
you're done with him."
"You've got yourself a deal," said Gryphon with a grin, and
the seven-man SSS scattered, activating their cloaking devices and
disappearing.
"See you up top," ReRob said, and, drawing his blaster,
climbed--like a true engineer--into the nearest Jeffries tube.
Kei and Yuri had nothing to say; they just checked weapons,
stowed their pressure suits into their utility packs ("they just get
in the way in an atmosphere"), and vanished around a corner.
"Good luck, Gryph," said Currier, and the pilots went their
way as well.
Briareos grabbed Gryphon's hand in his own massive metal paw
and said, in traditional Olympus ESWAT fashion, "Keep your head and
watch your back." Then he clapped him on the shoulder and the two
ESWAT cops were gone.
"You could use someone to help you watch your back, eh,
Captain?" Zoner asked with a smile.
"That I could, Admiral, that I could," replied Gryphon, and
the two of them set off down the only unexplored corridor.
The corridors of the AT&T were remarkably deserted; apparently
most of the station was automated, and there was no need for tons of
crew to be roaming around. And Largo was so wrapped up in the
infallibility of his defenses that there were little or no security
forces patrolling either. No alarms had been sounded.
After climbing eight decks by the secondary core stairs,
Gryphon paused on a landing and turned to MegaZone.
"This is too easy," he muttered.
"I'll say," Zoner replied, adjusting his grip on his E-Max.
"Not only haven't we run into anything, but we haven't gotten a signal
from anyone else either. Eris has been screaming in my ear for the
last few minutes. I really don't like this."
"Alpha One to Shadow One. Gordo, do you read?"
"Loud 'n clear, boss, go ahead."
"Just checking in," Gryphon said. "Encountered anything?"
"Nope. Couple'a guards outside the turbolift in sector three,
but they didn't even see us. I guess your average Buma isn't equipped
with motion detectors, hey?"
"Guess not...be careful. It's too quiet; I'm starting to get
nervous."
"You and me both, boss. Shadow One out."
"Well, nothing for it...come on," said Gryphon, and continued
climbing. They climbed another four flights uneventfully; then, just
as they were passing the power door from Level 27, it started to open.
Gryphon flattened himself to the wall on the door's left as Zoner did
likewise on the right; a red Mark 15 security Buma stepped through.
Zoner waited until it had passed, then blasted it in the back of the
head.
It rumbled in annoyance and turned around.
"Oh, shit," Zoner offered as he dove to the side; the Buma's
sweeping fist slammed into the metal wall, denting it severely.
Gryphon leveled his phaser and fired. The orange beam struck the Buma
in the chest, spinning it around and knocking it back for an instant
before vaporizing it totally.
"Thanks, Gryph," Zoner said, getting to his feet. "What the
hell's wrong with this thing? I should've blown that thing's head
clean off." Zoner popped the access panel on the side of the heavy
handgun and ran its internal diagnostic program. He was not pleased
by what it told him. "Shit. Defective transducer. This thing's
about as useful to me as a stun gun." He holstered it and drew his
secondary weapon of choice, a Predator II heavy slugger. "Well, when
in Rome..."
"Right." Sending a warning to the other units, Gryphon
continued climbing.

"Well, at least they've seen something," Kei complained. "How
the hell did I let you talk me into this? It's the oldest trick in
the book."
Behind her in the air duct, Yuri replied, "And it always
works. Odd, that."
"Oh., shut up."
Within a few minutes they met a grating. Dead end.
"So much for your wonderful idea," Kei said to her partner,
and kicked off the grate. She dropped down into the corridor beyond--
--which turned out to be full of red security Buma, all of
whom obligingly hauled out sidearms and sounded a sector alarm (a
station the size of the AT&T very rarely had full-station alerts)
while opening fire.
"Shit!" Kei cried, diving into a nearby doorway, using the
forty-centimeter-or-so recess for cover. The door opened, of course;
a glance back assured her that it was an empty conference room behind
her. Yuri crowded into the doorway behind her, blasting away with her
ElectroMax 520; several Buma fell, chests holed, before getting up.
Kei drew her own sidearm, a PlasmaTronix 2000, sighted, and pulled the
trigger; a circular area almost twelve centimeters in radius from the
red dot suddenly became open air in the lead Buma's chest. It went
down in a tangle of twitching biomechanoid limbs and didn't get up.
"Yuri!" Kei cried, blazing at the charging Buma. "We need
help! Call for some backup!"
"Right!" Yuri replied, keying her headset and calling for
backup as she holstered her sidearm and jacked the power couplings of
her longarm of choice into position. Leaning into the corridor, she
took a firm grip on the forestock and opened fire.
The Thompson Model 2127A repeating laser rifle, a perfect
replica of the old M1927A "Tommygun", started chattering out its
staccato fire pattern, the ducted gas compensator on the muzzle
shaping the superheated air caused by the laser pulses into the
characteristic "Chicago typewriter" sound. Buma lost their foreheads
and tumbled; Yuri was not making the same mistake again.
Kei pulled her own longarm off her back as her right hand was
holstering her sidearm; she unfolded the sleek, squarish weapon's
folding stock, keyed its power systems online, and engaged the active
sighting in a matter of two seconds while raising it to her shoulder.
The weapon, which looked remarkably like the old Heckler & Koch G-10,
began humming ominously, its muzzle glowing with a dull orange
radiance. Yuri ceased firing and ducked as Kei dropped the red pipper
onto the chest of the leader Buma and fired, at a range of around ten
meters.
The Remington AutoAssault-44 Plasma Shotgun roared, spitting a
neat cone of superheated plasma which withered and nearly vaporized
the Buma spearhead. Sixteen Buma legs, attached to various vaguely
humanoid bits of twisted metal and charred, blasted biomechanoid
synthflesh, clattered to the deck as the rest retreated to regroup,
giving the Lovely Angels a short breather.
It turned out to be very short; another Buma squad appeared
down the corridor, and a second on the other end, flanking the other
side of the door. With their battle suddenly becoming two-fronted,
the Angels started thinking hard about their options.
Suddenly, blaster fire echoed in the corridor. The newcomers
on the far side of the door started dropping, heads blown off from
behind; Kei leaned her head out enough to see and discovered that the
Eight-Ball pilots had come round from the other side and bushwacked
the Buma where they stood. Before any of them could turn around, they
had all been slaughtered. However, the squad up the corridor was
already facing them, and opened fire; as the pilots fell back, one of
them, Pilot Sergeant McMurphy, screamed and dropped, his armor
smoking. Kei couldn't tell how bad he was hit from the distance. She
turned in the doorway, pulled a grenade from her belt, and sprang into
the corridor, hurling it with a shout at the Buma. It clattered into
their midst and went off, leveling several and blackening and
distorting the walls in that part of the corridor. Kei got back into
the doorway lest the covering fire from her own allies take off the
back of her head, and then leaned out and let the Buma have it with
the shotgun again, taking out several more.
Yuri jacked the power grudge on her Tommygun up higher and
then ducked right out into the hall, rolling across the floor and
coming up flat against the opposite wall, laying down a thick fire
pattern all the time. Behind her, she heard Colonel Currier shout an
order to her men to keep their fire to the center of the corridor,
which they obligingly did as the last of the Buma, five of them, bore
down on the Angels' positions. They accounted for two more, and Yuri
blew another's head off, before Kei fired the shotgun again and took
out the last of them. Then the WDF forces met halfway. Another of
the Eight-Ball pilots had McMurphy slung over his shoulder, and the
wounded pilot seemed to be moving partially under his own power, so he
apparently wasn't hit too badly.
More GENOM forces approached from the rear, blocking that
avenue of escape. The Pair and the Eight-Ball group made a fighting
withdrawal down the corridor. It wasn't hard to figure out that they
were being herded, however, there wasn't much that they could do.

In other areas the separate groups were having similar
experiences. The Triple-S was boxed in on three sides, and Gordo was
out of escape routes.
"Shadow One reporting. We are boxed in and I feel we are
being herded into a kill zone. Present location level 107, corridor
183. We are being forced toward station center. Request assistance,
over."
"Lovely Angels reporting. We're in a similar situation, level
105, corridor 172. Over."
"Finney here, we cannot give assistance. Most of us are
currently tied up in the barracks area, we're ok, but we can't
withdraw at this time. I sent Giotto and half the squad ahead to
clear the way to the bridge. Over."
"Perry reporting. We're currently advancing on level 180.
We're doing fine, but I'm afraid we won't be able to get to you very
soon. Over."

ReRob had been listening to the radio exchange and after the
first call he had accessed the station layout via a service terminal.
"ReRob here, over in Armory 451. Listen, sounds like they're herding
you to some sort of central amphitheater. It doesn't look good,
they'll have a clear field of fire once you enter the hall. Team
Apple, where are you?"
"We're in an access duct just off of corridor S45."
"Ok, that's.... umm... Level 113. Ok, you should be near a
vertical utilities duct. Take that down six levels to 107, then
continue along S36."
"Ok... Damn!"
"What?"
"There's a blast door here..." Screeee! Clang! "...there was a
blast door here. Thanks Bri. We're clear now."
"Good. I'll meet you down here. I should make it before
you."
"So, what are we going to do?"
"I've got an angle."
"Oh... And Hanover... Goodbye," Gryphon's voice chimed in.
"Gryph, drop it. Listen, Ben and I are close to the command
sector. Do what you can, dig in if you need to. Hopefully once we
reach Largo they'll back off. Good luck," Zoner cut the link. "I
hope you don't need it."

ReRob took his position in duct S36 and waited for Deunan and
Briareos' arrival. The odds weren't good, but there was a slim chance
they could get the Triple-S and the Eight-Ball/Pair groups into the
service corridor which ran just above the entrance to the main hall.
"ReRob, Apple is ready." Deunan and Bri dropped into the duct
next to Rob.
"Great. Bri, Merry Christmas." He pointed to a mechanism in
the shadows. "Listen, corridor 172 ramps up and meets 183 just a few
yards before 183 enters the hall. Just before the entrance a service
corridor P36 crosses above 183. If we can cut through to P36 and then
down to the hallway we should be able to get them out of the pincer
trap."
"That's a lot of work to do in very little time," Deunan
observed.
"Then I guess we should start now," Rob answered and started
off toward the junction.

"We're through!" Deunan called from the cut she was working
on. ReRob and Briareos were resting after their turns with the laser.
"Coolness," ReRob activated his comm, "Eight-Ball and Shadow,
what are your current positions?"
"Eight-Ball. We're close to the base of the ramp now. Over."
"Shadow. We're fighting a holding battle at the corner
preceding the junction. What's up? Over."
"Hold them off as long as you can. Eight-Ball, get up the
ramp and see if you can drop the roof, seal it off from the top. Aid
Shadow as best you can. Do not withdraw until you get word from me.
We'll get you out. Over and out."

Rob turned to Bri and Deunan. "We don't have much time.
Let's move." He led them into corridor P36 and pinpointed the spot at
which they needed to cut through. ReRob took first shift as he raced
the clock to save his friends. He'd already lost the person most
important to him, and he wasn't about to lose more.

"ReRob, where the fuck is that escape route?!" Yuri asked
frantically.
"We're working on it, almost through. Hold on," Rob turned to
Briareos, "Come on, they need us through right now!"
Briareos didn't say a word, he was going as fast as anyone
could, but he new what was riding on this, and the pressure Rob was
under.
Down in corridor 183 the situation was bad and getting worse.
The teams were being overrun by sheer numbers as the Buma used massed
wave attacks, and another team was digging through the rubble blocking
the ramp up from corridor 172. Time was running out.

"Rob, I hate to bother you, but things are getting a little
tight down here," Kei called over the comm link.
"Just about through, hold on." ReRob finished the incision he
had been working on, bringing the line into plumb with the beginning
of the black burn scar. Then he killed the torch and ducked back,
gesturing to the panel he had cut out. Briareos leaned back and
delivered a full-force side kick to the center of the cut area.
Yuri and Pilot Officer Coltrane jumped back as a rectangle of
ceiling burst down into the corridor. Right behind it came a hulking
combat 'borg--for a moment, Coltrane almost mistook it for a Buma,
until he noticed the sense booms and realized it was a
Hecatonchires--carrying a really large weapon. His eyes widened as he
took in the honeycomb of barrels jutting from the front of the angular
housing, the heavy EP cable running to the large, blocky backpack, and
the flash shield, and threw himself on the floor with a strident cry:
"Down! Vindicator!"
The British-AnimeTech Vindicator-X is a weapon both respected
and feared by anyone who knows anything about squad automatic weapons.
For it is the ultimate squad automatic weapon. Each of its six
barrels is the equivalent of a TTG-X1 Man-Portable Particle Projection
Cannon. (Or, if the arc attenuators are removed, a Remington
AutoAssault-44). With the microfusion powerpack at full output, each
attains a maximum rate of fire of 360 rounds per minute. There are
six of them. In the AnimeTech Arms Division's 2387 catalog, it's
listed as a "crowd control weapon" for use in "mecha congregation
situations". In other words, one uses it to wipe out a large, angry
crowd of mechanoids.
Like, say, this one.
Everyone who wasn't wearing flash compensators and bat-ears
dropped to the floor and threw their arms over their heads and prayed
to God, Allah, Eris, or whoever, that the 'borg knew what he was
doing. They needn't have worried.
Briareos thumbed the toggle switch on the top of the weapon.
The rotor servo clicked in, bringing the barrels up to rotating speed,
and a voice similar to that in an '88 Buick Skylark informed him,
"Your Vindicator is on." The Buma, in the middle of making another
charge, skidded to a halt as the high, keening whine of the weapon's
rotator motor filled the corridor. They had almost managed to reverse
their direction when Briareos pushed the trigger all the way down.

<<< Led Zeppelin: Rock and Roll >>>

The sound a Vindicator-X makes when fired at full power is a
sound no one who ever hears it ever forgets. The sight of the machine
bucking in the hands of its operator, spitting a thousand thousand
thunderbolts (all right, so I'm waxing dramatic--do you know how late
it is in this part of the world?) along a more or less straight line,
is similarly impressive. It sounds like a cross between a high-speed
pneumatic hammer, a violent lightning storm, a really large Jacob's
ladder, and the Wrath of God.
When it was over, ozone lay thick in the air, and bits of Buma
lay thick upon the floor. As the others got hesitantly to their feet,
Briareos looked down at the smoking Hammer of the Gods he held in his
hands and did his version of a smile.
"God, I love this thing!"
"Happy birthday," Deunan replied, dropping the rope ladder out
of the hole in the ceiling. "Going up."
ReRob checked his watch and smiled. He muttered to no one in
particular, "Well, the least you could do is tell me your name!"
The timer on the little gift he left in the armory read 0:00.
Boom.