Derelict 3, Chapter 31.

Chapter 31.

“Hixrax, I need you to move your people aboard your ship,” Slater said.

“Yes, I will begin immediately, but it may take some time to move everyone,” Hixrax replied. A pressurized boarding tube had been connected to the airlock, allowing the unsuited Chixturax access to their ship. With over three hundred of them, the large Chixturax would be forced to board single file. If the enemy breached the airlock, it would be a disaster.

There was movement at the shelter as the line of Chixturax began to stream forth. They had little in the way of possessions, but with the materials stockpiled on their ship, they should be able to fabricate at least the basics. On his own ship, Slater had most work halted, and the construction drones focused on stuffing as much salvage aboard as they could. Much of the ship’s fitting out would have to take place in space, the days of being tied up to a dock where work could be done easily were gone.

Half his force of MOBS were called back aboard, the rest would stay and delay the enemy. Between the gnomish attacks and the continued assaults by the station forces, he had an ample supply of bio bricks to rebuild his forces. Salvage would be the issue and Slater didn’t know if he would have time to gather everything he needed. His weapon system were also not ready, the missile bays were empty, and the forward main batteries were still under construction. The old adage came to mind, you fought with the army you had, not the army you wanted.

“Slater, my people are boarding the ship and bringing the systems online. Can you see to it that my children are brought aboard? I know your drones are effective in the task and I don’t wish to risk damaging their life support modules,” Hixrax asked. About fifty of his people were aboard, working to bring the Chixturax ship to life. The airlock allowed for groups of ten come aboard every few minutes, so it would still take time to get them all sorted. The pair of medpods were still safely kept back at shelter which his construction drones were breaking down the structure for material.

“No problem, I’ll have them brought over now. As for your ship, get the automated systems active, I can control most of them from here. We’re going to be in a fight, and I don’t need some Chixturax who’s never been a space battle giving the system contradictory orders. Once we’re safe, your people can go through the simulators and begin to learn how to do things,” Slater ordered. He had hoped to have more time to train the Chixturax in the operation of their vessel, but the AI’s he had installed would do fine for what they needed.

A pair of drones were pulled from salvage duty, each grabbing a medpod and hauling them toward the airlock. The crowd was slowly being processed aboard, the airlock cycling as fast as it could to get them safe before the attack commenced. His reduced force of MOBS were directed to cover every point where he feared an incursion from above and below the dockyard compartment would occur.

“Boss, the keel gun reactor is online and charging, do you want the drones to print up some ammo for it?” Pixi asked. Each round was horribly expensive given their dimensions, but a devastating display of their power might be needed.

“Give me two rounds, and make sure the other guns have a full loadout. Hold off on any missiles just yet, we don’t have the salvage to spare for them,” Slater ordered. Looking at the pier his ships were attached to, Slater noticed an opportunity. He pulled five drones off salvage gathering to begin cutting the pier loose from the station. When he left, the pier would go with him, a supply of salvage to help make up for what he would miss out on by being forced to leave early.

“Shields are online, do you want me to distribute them evenly or focus the protection?” Pixi asked. An attack from space was imminent, it made sense that it would come in at the same time as the attackers from the station engaged him.

“Weaken the forward shields to reinforce the others. Don’t forget to refocus once we pull back from the station,” Slater added.

The only thing that could attack him from the front were the ground forces and their anti-armor rockets and crew served heavy lasers wouldn’t even scratch the armor of the Franklin. His armor wasn’t complete in all areas, but all the critical locations were protected. With his nanobots doing their thing, his hull was stronger than anything known to the galaxy. It could be breached, but it would take more firepower than he thought the station could bring to bear on him. A call from the station diverted his attention.

“Slater, I’m going to give you a last chance to return. While this little escapade you’re embarked on is amusing, you cannot hope to beat my entire station. Don’t make me destroy you and the Chixturax, it would be so wasteful,” Administrator pleaded.

“Not a chance, we’re leaving and if you so much as blink in my direction, I’m going to tear your precious station to pieces,” Slater warned.

“Think of all the innocents aboard, you can’t just fire upon a place they call home, can you? Come back and we’ll work something out that is beneficial to both of us,” Administrator offered.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone and if you force me to fire on the station, their blood is on your hands, not mine. Stay away, and we’ll leave in peace, attack, and I’ll destroy you,” Slater threatened.

“It’s always the hard way with you, isn’t it? Sadly, you have forced my hand. Goodbye Slater,” Administrator said.

“Multiple contacts coming around,” Pixi announced. Slater looked at his scanners, seeing several ships poking their noses in from around the edges of the station where they had been hiding. He made out a gnomish mothership, with eight attack craft, a pair of dwarven ships that were the size of a frigate, and an orcish light cruiser. There could be more hiding behind the bulk of the station that hadn’t revealed themselves just yet.

The attackers would have to approach from the sides and rear, the bow of the Franklin was still too close to the station for them to target. Slater assigned targets, the rear main battery turret was on the light cruiser and each of smaller capital ships were assigned to a five-inch battery. His point defense would concentrate on the smaller gnomish attack ships, the other guns joining them as they killed their primary targets. The enemy hadn’t fired yet, whether they were waiting for the order, or were afraid of missing and damaging the station, Slater couldn’t tell. He held his own fire, wanting to give the Chixturax as much time to get aboard as he could. There were still over a hundred of them in the process of boarding and the kids with their medpods were in there somewhere as well.

A barrage of stealth rats detonating drew his attention. The forces outside the dockyard were making their push, and his little spies were wearing them down in an attempt to thin their numbers and slow the assault. Slater sent word for all his drones to return to the ship, all save for the pair holding the medpods. The floor and ceiling of the dockyard was rocked by a series of blasts, ten above and ten below. Attackers poured from the openings, engaging his MOBS.

Several blasts struck the Franklin, his shields holding strong and only dipping down a few percentage points. Unfortunately, several shots missed and the small secondary lasers from the orcish frigate struck the station, perforating the hull and decompressing the dockyard. Chixturax ran about frantically, trying to get to safety and several tried to don emergency hoods that Slater had provided for them. Slater’s return fire lashed out too much more effect than the enemies first volley. At nearly point-blank range, three eighteen-inch railgun rounds struck the orcish light cruiser, penetrating completely through the ship, leaving it a lifeless, drifting hulk. His five-inch batteries had a similar effect on the smaller attackers, dealing devastating damage with their first shots, even as the second rounds were being loaded.

Point defense weapons began chewing into the gnomish assault craft. The gnome strategy was to use those craft to board the enemy, and this time it looked like they were going to target the Chixturax ship, which so far, hadn’t fired a shot. Slater had the AI on the other ship refrain from attacking unless directly threatened, as was happening now. A combination of railguns and lasers opened up on the gnomish assault craft, tearing them to pieces long before they get into boarding range. With the space threat dealt with for the moment, Slater looked in on the developing ground attack.

His forces outside the dockyard hatch were being ground down, the bunkers there only having half the normal defenders, since Slater called back half his forces to defend the Franklin against any boarding actions. The dockyard itself was chaos, his MOBS were putting up a strong fight, and the kill ratio was absurdly in his favor. Unfortunately, the attackers just kept coming and his loses weren’t being replaced.

The drones holding the medpods with the Bexlan and Kraxton inside diverted to the Franklin, the Chixturax was no longer connected by the airlock and it would take too long to enter manually, leaving Franklin as the best option. It looked like they would make it before the enemy overran the remaining defenders, but the rest of the Chixturax waiting to board were lost in the crossfire. Hixrax had saved nearly two hundred of his people, more than enough to crew the ship given the AI support that Slater had built into it.

By the time the drones with the medpods came aboard, the last of his defenders on the station were falling. With no reason to hold back, Slater activated any weapons that could target the station. A wave of railgun rounds and laser fire swept the dockyard, burning deeper into the station as he killed off the horde of attackers who must have been counting on the small flotilla of starships to keep the Franklin busy. The administrator had misjudged the firepower available to Slater, and his minions paid a heavy price as hundreds were killed. Slater didn’t know how many station defenders were at his opponent’s disposal, but the losses here had to have hurt.

With the docks cleared, Slater pushed back from the station, dragging the pier alongside, which a team of construction drones were already processing into salvage bricks. It was tempting to dock once again to gather more resources, but it was too risky to stay. The sooner he was away from this station, the better. The other drones were working on printing up ammo for the various weapons and getting the last systems online. Slater sent a message over every comm channel could, wanting to get as much of the station’s attention as possible.

“Sarton Station, this is Commodore Slater of the USS Franklin. We have been fired upon without provocation by your leaders, but we do not wish to harm the innocent in our retaliation. I advise you to evacuate the arena area of your station, it will be destroyed shortly. In addition, if the station fires upon us, or allows any ship in the area to engage us, I will destroy another section. Do not doubt either my power or my resolve. This is your final warning,” Slater said. Whether it would make any difference, he didn’t know, but perhaps he was laying the groundwork for Administrator to be replaced.

Targeting the arena section would deal the most damage to the station both economically and to Administrator personally, as that creature seemed to thrive on the entertainment it provided. There was even the off chance that some of the core shards would be set free, adding to the chaos and distracting the station defenders. As the ship pulled further back, weapons on the station itself could now come to bear on Franklin. By maneuvering slowly, Slater was able to uncover only small sections of the station’s defenses at a time, preventing them from overwhelming his ship.

Franklin could survive a substantial number of hits from the station, but the station’s gun emplacements couldn’t survive even one hit from his ship’s weapons. Despite that, there was a dizzying array of weapons mounts, all of which happily blazed away at Slater as he moved further from the station. His shields were down to twenty percent when the section of the station housing the arena came into view. He could also see dozens of ships fleeing the station, at least someone had heard and heeded his warning.

The Chixturax ship was now ordered to burn hard out of the system. Most of the station’s defenses were trained on the Franklin and were unlikely to shift targets away from the most dangerous threat. He figured that the shields and armor he had designed for them would see the Chixturax safely out of range, battered, but completely functional.

“We’re ready for the keel gun whenever you are, boss,” Pixi said. It did look like everything was ready. Slater gave the station a few more moments to see if they would halt their assault on the Franklin, but if anything, the fire from the station was intensifying as new defensive batteries were uncovered by the natural, slow rotation of the place.

“Sarton Station, you’ve brought this on yourselves,” Slater said. His ship was still slowly pulling back from the station on reverse thrusters, the bow aiming directly at the section of the station that housed the arena complex and the market district that surrounded it.

“Firing,” Slater said aloud, a loud thrum sounding throughout the ship as the capacitors discharged and launched a shell the size of city bus was hurled out at blinding speed. One second the station appeared on Slater’s screens, lit by the flashes of weapons fire as it attempted to destroy Franklin. The next moment, the entire station shuddered as the section that had once contained the arena simply ceased to exist.

Atmosphere vented and explosions were seen in the surrounding areas. A hole was visible through the structure. The area around the strike crumpled dangerously, threatening to fold in on itself. A follow up volley by the eighteen-inch guns was an anticlimactic finish to the attack, those rounds punching deep into the surrounding area, adding to the destruction. Slater had no doubt the immense station would survive the attack, but it would take who knew how long it would take them to rebuild the damage that one shot had inflicted.

“Franklin, please cease fire, the station forces are standing down. I repeat, please cease fire, the station forces are standing down,” Slater heard. It wasn’t Administrator calling, but whoever it was did what they promised. Incoming fire ceased, and all targeting scanners were directed away from both Franklin and the Chixturax ship. With shields nearly depleted in the engagement, Slater was glad for the reprieve. He would have no doubt survived for a long time without his shields, but valuable components could have been damaged, requireing precious resources to repair them.

“Slater, what just happened? Where are we?” Bexlan asked. He hadn’t noticed her medpod opening, the emergency treatment having just been completed.

“How are you feeling?” Slater asked, feeling relief as the made it outside of weapons range of the station. He set a course for rendezvous with the Chixturax ship.

“I still hurt, but the pain is manageable,” Bexlan said. Slater looked at the readout on the medpod. She was out of danger but needed a few days to get back to one hundred percent.

“Kraxton should be out shortly. As for where you are, welcome aboard the USS Franklin,” Slater said.

“The last thing I remember was that horrible Administrator doing something that hurt. How are we aboard the ship, is my father okay?” Bexlan asked. The kid was still a bit groggy but coming around quickly.

“We were forced to fight our way out of the station. Your father and some of the other Chixturax also left, they’re on your hive ship now. I can open a comm link to your father, he can probably explain better than I can. Let me know if you need anything, outside the medical bay where you are now is the main passageway that leads to the chow hall and the recreation area,” Slater said.

“I would very much like to speak with my father now,” Bexlan said. Slater pulled up a private comm link, setting his filters to only listen in if certain topics were discussed. Slater turned his attention back to the ship. There was much to be done, and he also had a full queue of research, starting with further refinements to the assault drones.

“We should rendezvous with the Chixturax ship in twenty minutes, Slater, where do you want to go after that?” Pixi asked. It was a good question. Slater pulled up his star charts, plotting the least time course from Sarton Station to Earth. He also needed to find out what had happened to Private Long and Harris. Heading back into the system where he had fought the council fleet wouldn’t add too much time to his return to earth, the path leading through South American Coalition space would also give him a time to inquire on the survivors of the battle against the Council. It was over a hundred years ago, but Slater still was curious what had happened to the people he had rescued from the gnomes.

Kraxton came to a few minutes after Bexlan, his sister allowing him in on the conversation with their father. At one point, the conversation looked to get a bit heated, but Slater resisted the temptation to listen in, instead spending time rebuilding his force of MOBS. Half of them had been destroyed in the battle for the dockyard, but he had more than enough bio bricks and salvage to rebuild them. With the entire mass of the pier, which his drones were still breaking down into salvage, Slater would be good on salvage, at least until he needed to make major repairs.

“Slater, my father wishes to speak with you,” Bexlan said.

“Hixrax, what can I do for you?” Slater asked.

“Again, thank you for this wondrous vessel, my people are even now going through the simulators to learn how to operate the myriad of systems you have installed. We have a lot to learn about space travel and space battle, which leads me to my question. Against my better judgement, my offspring wish to stay aboard your vessel for a time. My advisors tell me it would be beneficial to have some of our people learn from you, but I did not necessarily intend for those observers to be Bexlan and Kraxton,” Hixrax said, sadness coming in clearly from the translation protocols.

“Are you asking that I take them aboard, or are you asking me to tell them no?” Slater asked, confused over what Hixrax truly wanted. Slater felt a burst of relief when he had heard the two wanted to stay, it was selfish, but he missed the interaction with a crew.

“I am asking you to allow them to stay for a time. While I will always think of them as my children first, they are now of an age where they may select their own path, so long as that path benefits the hive. Staying and learning from you would help to prepare my people for a future in space,” Hixrax said.

“While I would love to have them aboard, I’m heading into a dangerous battle. You know the foe I face, isn’t it too risky?” Slater asked, not wanting to expose them to the coming battle with the Gargonth.

“I offered the same argument, but they are adamant in their desire to stay. Sadly, I must agree that observing your function in a desperate battle will give our people great insight into how to defend ourselves,” Hixrax admitted.

“Bexlan, Kraxton, is this what you truly wish to do? We’re going into battle and I cannot guarantee your safety,” Slater said, wanting to hear the request directly from them both.

“We do,” they both agreed.

“You know this isn’t some pleasure barge, I will expect you to work, not just play games the entire trip,” Slater said.

“We understand, there is much for us to learn from you,” Bexlan replied, her brother nodding his agreement.

“Very well, I’ll allow them to stay as observers. How will I get them back to your people when their time with me is over?” Slater asked Hixrax.

“I shall give you the charts to the world we intend to colonize. I know it might be a long journey from human space, but I ask that you return them there when they have learned all they can from you,” Hixrax said, passing over more star charts for Slater to add to his collection.

“Do you have any information on the Gargonth, or did your elders keep that from you?” Slater asked.

“I downloaded what I could, it should give you some insight into our battles with the monster,” Hixrax said.

“Thank you, safe travels and fair seas, Hixrax” Slater said, hoping the translator would pass on the phrase’s intended meaning.

“The same to you. Goodbye my children, may I see you again before too long,” Hixrax replied.

The kids took more time to speak with their father, the connection ending as the Chixturax vessel reached the jump point they intended to use. Slater’s own path would lead him back to a system where he fought for his life twice, once against the Council, and once against a dragon.