War Fleet: Resistance

“A few scuffs, sir, but nothing major.”
“Glad to know you’re in one piece. The Arstan shuttle-modules have dispersed around the planet, and one’s approaching your location. I’m guessing they’re protecting high-profile targets, so Kota, make sure you work with the utmost efficiency.”
“Affirmative, sir,” she replied. “We’ll get right on it.”
Redrock nodded. “We’ll need to cover the ship up. Unfortunately, we couldn’t land in the most concealed location.”
Olsen paused a moment, as if mulling the situation over. “Work on that with another Marine. The rest need to focus on the extraction.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Redrock said. He turned to acknowledge the stunning vista of what looked like a birch forest, rising above the distant shores of the lake, but he only glanced at it for a second before he opened the cargo bay doors for the Marines and leaped out of the cockpit to get to work.

19
“Aye aye, sir,” Redrock said over the comms channel, and Olsen felt a wave of relief rise in his chest. He had the utmost faith in Redrock and the Marines. Ironically, though a mining vessel engaged in very few planetside missions, he had some of the best soldiers on board he’d ever met.
When he’d first met Kota and her squad, he’d been wary that Admiralty had placed them there should Olsen ever turn renegade and incite a mutiny. He was just being paranoid, of course. Though Kota had been a little distrusting of the captain six years ago when she’d initially arrived, that had quickly dissipated.
He cut off the channel, and changed the view on the camera from the idyllic lakeside retreat to the planet offset against the emptiness of space behind. They could see the defense station now, albeit still a small blob, reflecting the light of the sun. It hadn’t shown any sign yet of considering them a threat. No attack ships had been sent against them.
Arstan defense stations were modular, just like their ships. Some of their military leaders thought it best to keep them as a whole, rather than separate them into their constituent parts, until they had time to assess what they were up against. It was also possible that the defense station had sent all its attack ships inland.
But then, if they knew the Extractor was on the ground, they also would know the Tapper wouldn’t abandon it without a fight.
“Cadinouche, how long until they’re in weapons range?”
“Around fifteen minutes now, sir,” the pilot replied.
Olsen’s heart skipped another beat. When they got back the spatial detonator, he resolved to go down to sickbay for a cardio, but he certainly wouldn’t do that in a time of crisis. Not when the crew needed him here. “Schmidt, how are the shields doing?”
“At fifty percent, sir. We should have them fired up by the time the defense station comes around.”
That was something; at least they’d have shields. But this space station was likely larger and more formidable than the Okranti that they’d had to face in the Hardy-Myers sector.
Olsen turned to the young engineer who was standing at ease by the doorway, there in case he’d need to help. “Get down to weapons bay, Chang. I want as much juice as possible in a single coilgun.”
Chang raised his brows. “Even if it means taking the other one out?”
“Even if. We may only have one shot at this. We need to hedge our bets in any way we can.”
“Got it, Captain,” Chang said with a salute, and he rushed out of the bridge, a slight gusto to his step as if happy to have something to do.
“Santiago, create two sub-displays on the screen. I want a live feed on the Extractor camera, and another on Kota’s uniform-cam.”
“Yes, sir.”
While Olsen was dishing out his orders to the crew, Novak was watching the events unfold, standing with an almost unnaturally straight back, with her hands folded behind it. She didn’t have her fingers crossed, as Olsen would in this scenario. She turned to the captain once she noticed him looking at her.
“Is there anything I can do, sir?”
Olsen shook his head. “I don’t know. Can you think of anything you might do to make yourself useful?”
“You seem to have the situation under control.”
“Better than expected?”
“That isn’t for me to say, sir.”
Olsen chuckled. “Very well. Just let me know if you have any valuable advice to offer, without endangering the ship or my crew in any shape or form.” It was a condescending thing to say to his new XO, but she seemed unfazed.
Olsen wiped away a bead of sweat from his forehead. All they could do right now was wait as the defense station edged closer, hoping like hell that the Marines would get Fleet Admiral Frega out of there before things got ugly.


20
Kota and her squad approached Frega’s mansion, treading as silently as possible over the soft forest floor. Unfortunately, ground like this was noisier than it looked. They had to move fast, and so it was impossible to avoid snapping a twig underfoot or scuffing a hard sole against a rock. The mansion still was a good several hundred yards away, the sunlight reflecting off its full windows. The canopy above cast heavy shadows on the brick roof.
They’d left Riley behind to help Redrock cover up the Extractor with whatever foliage they could find. That left Connery, Singh, and Turgin. The three men fell behind in a line as Kota led in a crouched position, signaling them forward every yard or so.
As they moved, Kota couldn’t help but appreciate the freshness of the air. There wasn’t a sound around other than the soughing of the wind through the trees, the chirping of birds, the occasional chitter of a lizard, and the distant lapping of water on the lake.
Suddenly there came a whooshing sound from above. Kota ducked behind a tree and then checked behind her that her squad was also taking cover. Kota craned her head upwards to see an Arstan shuttle coming down to land from behind. It had its wings