E.D.F Chronicles - E.D.F resurgent Page 11

  “Yes sir.”

  “Well, what in the name o’ god have we just bloody well crashed into?”

  “Commander, the people here are more accustomed to building military vehicles and munitions, not naval systems.”

  “T’ey are E.D.F engineers, some o’ them will have expertise repairing vessels o’ the fleet, they have a whoppin’ great fleet yard in orbit and transfer men to and fro all the time.” Kinraid was becoming more excited, a plan was coming together and he knew it.

  “All the shipyard functions are in orbit, and we don’t know if the E.D.F fleet was successful or not without communications.”

  “True, but tat’s not to say that it can’t be done now is it,” Kinraid replied, “I’ll get Kalidis, he’ll be able to help us, so he will. Lieutenant, you’re with me.”

  Logameier sighed, still unsure as to how this would work, however Kinraid was in command now, and he had no choice but to follow his orders.

  The two officers made their way towards the port access hatch and exited the ship, sealing the hatch shut behind them.

  Once they stepped out onto the windswept field, they appreciated first hand the sheer scale of the devastation. Ahead of them in the distance, the smashed loading area lay crumpled and smouldering. The once tall command building reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble.

  Soldiers bearing the wounds of bitter fighting milled around performing their duties as best they could.

  The two men made their way onto the main road, still littered with debris and the occasional smashed vehicle; medics carried soldiers on stretchers, horrifically wounded and pumped full of morphine and other pain killing drugs.

  Kinraid wondered if ever there was a hell, this looked like it.

  As they made their way towards the main gate, they were greeted by more scenes of horror, the wreckage of blasted apollo’s and dominators lay smouldering across the road. Medics were everywhere trying to cope with the sheer backlog of wounded and dying. Acrid smoke still hung like a pall in the air, accustomed to breathing the recycled, purified and filtered air of the Liberty, it nearly choked the two officers.

  Either side of the road, rows upon rows of body bags were laid, each one inscribed with the occupants name, rank and serial number, a grim reminder of the horrible reality of war; people died.

  They made their way over to the most senior person they could find, a young sergeant. The two officers saluted the sergeant before Kinraid asked, “Excuse me, do you know te’ head o’ this facility?”

  The sergeant looked at them rather strangely, “I’m rather busy here commander.” As he set to the task of bandaging another soldiers wounded forehead.

  “Ahem, I’ll ask again,” Kinraid replied, his tone growing more menacing. “Do you fecking know, who is in charge o’ this fecking shit-hole!”

  Startled by the sheer force in Kinraids words, the sergeant straightened immediately, and addressed him properly. “Err, yes commander, it’s General Kalidis sir, he is overseeing repair operations, number 3 tank factory.”

  “Thank you, would you know where that is now?” Kinraid replied.

  “I’ll have someone take you,” the sergeant suggested.

  He shouted over to an even younger looking man, “private! Take a raider and these two men over to number 3 tank factory.”

  “Yes sergeant.” The private motioned for Kinraid and Logameier to follow him to a nearby unoccupied raider. This one was surprisingly undamaged, quite a rarity.

  “If you would like to follow me.”

  “Diplomacy works every fecking time,” Kinraid whispered to Logameier next to him, who quietly smiled.

  The three of them climbed into the small transport, the young private who looked barely in his twenties started the engine and the 4x4 sped off towards the tank factory.

  “Your part of the Liberty crew aren’t you?” The private asked curiously, noting their different uniforms.

  “Guilty as charged,” Kinraid replied.

  “You guy’s are like regular Robin Hoods, always popping up out of nowhere and giving the Krenaran’s a bloody nose before sodding off again, if you beg my pardon.”

  “Really?” Kinraid and Logameier looked at one another, genuinely surprised at this. “Well this time it was us who got the bloody nose, otherwise we wouldn’t have carved out a four hundred meter trench right through that field over there.”

  After a few minutes the Raider pulled up in front of number 3 tank factory, with a gentle squeal of its brakes.

  The building had taken some light damage during the fighting, a few smashed windows here and there, and the occasional dent and hole in the steel cladded exterior, all-in-all it had emerged remarkably well. Being situated in the far south west corner of the base far away from the main fighting had also helped its cause.

  A formidable queue of smashed, torn and blasted vehicles had formed outside however, occasionally a patched up raider or an apollo would rumble its way out towards a parking area at the west side of the building.

  As the three men made their way inside, they found that it was a hive of activity. Almost two dozen damaged vehicles were parked up in bays forming two long rows, four engineers to every vehicle. Bright welding arcs flashed continuously, casting deep shadows across the interior and sending sparks splashing across the floor. The buzzing of grinders and cutting equipment sounding like a swarm of angry bees about the place.

  A tall, thin man was barking out orders in the centre of the vast tank factory, “Johnson how is the rotator on that turret, Finlay, double check the inlet manifold on that raider. Jackson, that dominator should have been finished half an hour ago, come on people, these machines aren’t going to fix themselves!”

  Kinraid and Logameier made their way over to this man, the private who was accompanying them said, “I’ve got to get back to the main gate.”

  “Yeah, see you kid.” Logameier replied.

  “Quite some operation, you have going here,” Kinraid said to the man.

  The man stopped and turned to face them, Kinraid immediately noticed that the bridge of the man’s nose was taped, and he sported a hefty black eye. The commander thought nothing of it, most men around here bore some sort of war wound. “Needs to be, nearly thirty damaged vehicles a day are coming through here, the names Kalidis.”

  He shook both of their hands, suddenly a loud bang reverberated throughout the bay, and one of the raiders let out a cloud of white smoke.

  Kalidis spun around to the source of the noise. “Idiots, you didn’t check the fuel cells for ruptures!”

  “General, we need your help,” the two men asked in unison.

  “Join the queue, a lot of people need my help right now.”

  “You don’t understand, it’s not a vehicle we need help with.”

  The general looked at them with a hint of disdain. “All I know is your holding up this operation.”

  “It’s a ship,” Logameier said.

  This got the general’s attention, he stroked his chin thoughtfully, “a ship, here?”

  “It’s the Liberty, she’s crashed and we really need her to be able to break orbit.” Kinraid replied.

  Dalvosh, Vargev, and Captain Ericsson boarded the E.D.F shuttle, its gravitic engines gently whined as they powered up. Gradually the small craft lifted off, and headed towards the upper atmosphere. While in flight, Ericsson told them about the battle above the planet.

  “It was the biggest fleet action of the war, one hundred and eighty eight E.D.F and Solarian ships took part, we were led by Admiral Sato of the Hermes. When we arrived in-system we found nothing, not even the Solarian ships could find any trace of Krenaran activity.” Ericsson pressed a few controls, levelling out the shuttle as it continued its ascent through the clouds.

  “As we moved into docking range of the Echo base shipyards, we picked up the signatures of no less than three hundred and forty one stealth ships, led by six command carriers.” Ericsson sighed as he remembered the awful sight of that
enormous fleet bearing down upon them.

  “To begin with the battle did not go well, they decimated us, we lost over fifty ships in the first few minutes. The Solarian ships acquitted themselves well, when the first of the Krenaran command carriers fell to a bombing run from the Hermes bombers they began to go on the defensive.” He said, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

  “The Liberty, and a handful of Solarian ships accounted for another. That really put the wind up them, the Krenarans fought back, but now they were panicking and disorganised, they became easy pickings for the Solarian battlecruisers who tore into them, although the Hermes itself never made it.” Ericsson paused for breath, smiling at the memory of the destroyed Krenaran ships littering space around his ship. “The remaining Krenaran ships retreated and abandoned the planet. We were in no shape to pursue however, so we re-grouped at the shipyards. With barely fifty ships left, most of which were heavily damaged.”

  “Jesus,” Vargev said in reply, “and I thought you would never come.”

  The shuttle shuddered slightly as it cut through the high altitude winds before gradually breaking into orbit, leaving the emerald green atmosphere of Gamma IV behind. The stars and faint outline of the shipyards were gradually revealed to them.

  As they neared the vast shipyards, Vargev got his first glimpse of the sheer scale of the carnage that had taken place here.

  What remained of the E.D.F/Solarian fleet was clustered around the newly re-taken shipyards, in the distance hundreds of damaged, broken hulls that were lost in the fighting floated lifelessly, mere corpses of the proud vessels they once were. It was an enormous graveyard, a testament to the scale of the fighting that had taken place here.

  Many of the ships that had survived the battle bore the scars of their ordeal. Where once sophisticated weapon systems had been, there was only twisted blackened metal, with only the occasional spark from shredded power conduits revealing the extent of the damage. Ruined plasma drives trailed bright plumes of energised plasma into space.

  Vargev felt a small tinge of guilt at his impatience at questioning whether reinforcements were forthcoming in the battle on the surface. As the shuttle began its approach toward the station, he now saw that things had been just as desperate up here, he had no idea.

  “Shuttle tempest one-niner to echo base, requesting permission to dock,” Ericsson spoke into his console.

  “Confirmed, clearance granted for bay four,” came the reply.

  The shuttle altered course slightly, veering around one of the gigantic upper docking pylons of the base, before landing in one of the smaller docking areas built into the hull of the station. Once the shuttle had landed, the bay was re-pressurised and a small access ramp descended from the craft.

  Vargev stepped out onto the wide, flat hangar bay. He noticed the bay was packed with various other shuttles transferring the wounded and supplies to and fro from vessels still unable to dock with the station. The comparatively enormous Dalvosh then emerged from the shuttle, ducking his reptilian head as he did so, Ericsson was the last to leave the shuttle as he powered down the small craft.

  “What’s the casualty count?” Vargev asked.

  “Don’t know; final figures still haven’t come through yet.” Ericsson answered, “best guess puts it at around forty four thousand dead.”

  As they made their way through long corridors choked with wounded naval personnel, Vargev couldn’t help but feel a sense of pity for what these men had gone through.

  Dalvosh simply stomped his way through the jeering crowd, uncaring and unheeding of these men’s plight, he knew they hated him, he had been their most hated enemy for the better part of a year, and the feeling was definitely mutual.

  After what had seemed like an eternity, they finally arrived at the vast command section of the facility. There, stood in the recessed centre section of a huge circular room were twelve captains all talking amongst themselves. As the three of them entered the room they turned their attention towards them, studying the blackened, weary face of Vargev, then Ericsson, finally they turned to the huge form of Dalvosh and eyed him with a look of pure hatred.

  “What is a Krenaran doing on this station captain Ericsson?” They asked pointedly.

  Dalvosh spoke up, “I have come to establish peace with our two races in the form of a non-aggression treaty.” The words sounded hollow, “though we may never be friends, both of our races have already lost too much in this war, and that is why it must end now.”

  “Impressive words Krenaran, but why should we trust you?” One of the arrayed captains replied.

  “A Krenaran warrior stood in a Terran built station advocating peace should be all the proof that you seek. That, and my master Alax is dead, he was the head of the Krenaran military. Now I must take his place, which grants me the power to speak for my people.”

  One of the captains then gave a command to a younger naval officer manning a station on the upper periphery of the room. “Open a communications channel, I want a direct channel to alpha base, get me Admiral Mason.”

  “Yes captain,” the officer replied.

  After a brief pause, Admiral Mason’s wizened features appeared on the viewer of Echo base.

  “Yes captains, what is it?”

  “Echo base has been secured admiral, and the Krenarans wish to discuss terms to end the war, they want peace in the form of a non-aggression treaty.”

  Mason’s brows furrowed noticeably, “you have proof of this?”

  Dalvosh stepped forward towards the viewer, “My name is Dalvosh, I am the new head of the Krenaran military and lord Alax’s successor, I am standing on one of your stations in peace, surely this is the proof you seek.”

  “My god!” The admiral gasped, and promptly paused the communication.

  “What is he doing,” Dalvosh asked Ericsson, quizzically.

  “Probably wondering if he’s dreaming,” the captain replied.

  A long pause passed, before Mason’s face re-appeared on the viewer again.

  “A small team of E.O.C.A diplomats have been scrambled from Sicarius, they are carrying the official documents for the treaty, it will be five days until they are able to reach you.”

  “That will be acceptable,” Dalvosh nodded.

  On the surface, Kinraid, Logameier and Kalidis were busily assessing the damage to the battered Liberty.

  Kinraid turned to the general, “do ye’ tink ye’ can get it into orbit again?”

  “Normally I’d say no, but with what’s been happening around here lately I’m not so sure. It needs the hull fractures sealing, as well as the destroyed launcher, otherwise it will just burn up as it attempts to get out of the atmosphere. We’ll have to rig up a new main engine, we’ll need to contact people in orbit for that.”

  “How long do ye’ tink it’ll take?” Kinraid asked.

  “It should be ready in about a month.”

  Kinraid gasped. “A month!” then sighed, “understood, I’ll organise te’ Liberty repair teams to assist ye’.”

  Over the course of the next week, shuttles went to and fro, ferrying supplies from the echo base shipyards to the planet below. Engineers swarmed over the Liberty, repairing hull fractures and replacing damaged systems. The Solarians lent their aid also, and donated a Solarian Ionic drive system, from one of their own damaged escorts.

  Kathryn Jacobs spent most of the week monitoring the weak form of Michael. Towards the end of the week his results showed a marked improvement, her excitement began to increase as she knew the captain was beginning to pull through, finally four days after being rushed to sickbay, Michael awoke and looked visibly stronger.

  “What’s our status?” He asked weakly.

  “Always down to business aren’t we, well the repairs are continuing, and the Krenarans are due to sign a peace deal tomorrow which will officially bring an end to the war. It’s being broadcast all over E.O.C.A space, there’s street parties and massive celebrations being planned all over the outer colonie
s. Its almost like all of humanity is breathing a giant sigh of relief.” Jacobs replied, her smile could barely contain her excitement at the prospect of the war being over.

  “How long until we can get back into orbit?”

  “Not for another three weeks at least,” Kathryn replied as she studied his vital signs monitor for any signs of change.

  “So are we just supposed to sit on our hands for three weeks,” Michael retorted, growing a little angry at the situation they had found themselves.

  “We don’t have a choice, besides you’re not cleared to leave sickbay yet anyway.”