Lunar Assault: Mechanized Warfare on a Galactic Scale (Metal Legion Book 4) Read online

  Lunar Assault

  Metal Legion™ Book Four

  CH Gideon

  Caleb Wachter

  Craig Martelle

  Lunar Assault (this book) is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  CH Gideon is Craig Martelle’s military science fiction pen name and the complete book is Copyright (c) 2019 by Craig Martelle

  Cover artwork by Luca Oleastri, Typography & Logo by Jeff Brown

  LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  LMBPN Publishing

  PMB 196, 2540 South Maryland Pkwy

  Las Vegas, NV 89109

  First US edition, January 2019

  The Metal Legion (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds) are Copyright (c) 2018-2019 by Craig Martelle

  Dedication

  We can’t write without those who support us

  On the home front, we thank you for being there for us

  We wouldn’t be able to do this for a living if it weren’t for our readers

  We thank you for reading our books

  Lunar Assault Team

  Thanks to our Beta Readers

  Micky Cocker, James Caplan, Kelly O’Donnell, and John Ashmore

  Thanks to the JIT Readers

  James Caplan

  Misty Roa

  John Ashmore

  Kelly O’Donnell

  Micky Cocker

  Jeff Eaton

  Crystal Wren

  Peter Manis

  Paul Westman

  Tim Adams

  If I’ve missed anyone, please let me know!

  Editing services provided by LKJ Bookmakers www.lkjbooks.com

  Contents

  Prologue: A Matter of Priority

  1. Prep for Launch

  2. Fleet Commands

  3. A Jemmin Gate-Crasher

  4. Refit

  5. Prep the Gravity Cannon

  6. Lunar Approach

  7. Virgin Regolith

  8. Brotherly Love

  9. The Nutcrackers

  10. Down the Tunnel

  11. Space Marines

  12. Manufactured Luck

  13. The Transmitter

  14. The Uplink Underground

  15. Standing Tall

  16. Commitment

  17. Interruption

  18. Mistress of the Dark

  19. Interrogations

  20. The Closing Arguments

  21. True Illumination from a Spark

  22. An Epic Showdown

  23. The Court-Martial

  24. A New Direction

  Epilogue: A New Beginning

  Author Notes - Craig Martelle

  Books by Craig Martelle

  Other books from LMBPN Publishing

  Prologue: A Matter of Priority

  “I say again, Bonhoeffer Actual,” Admiral Wallace’s light-delayed voice said in an unyielding, nearly hostile tone. “You are ordered to join the King Solomon and assume a defensive posture under Commodore Maeda’s command. Acknowledge your orders.”

  Wallace was the commander of the Terran Armed Forces’ 8th Fleet elements, which consisted of eight corvettes, four cruisers, two carriers, and, most importantly, two Republican-class dreadnoughts. The heavily armed force had the critical mission of guarding the New America 2-Nexus gate.

  “Admiral Wallace, this is Colonel Li. My ship is essential to an ongoing Code Black priority mission authorized by General Benjamin Akinouye,” Li argued. Lieutenant Colonel Leeroy Jenkins braced himself for the end of the dialog with Admiral Wallace. “For reasons of extreme importance to Terran security, I cannot deviate from my mission directives.”

  Several long, tense seconds passed before Wallace’s reply came. “Bonhoeffer Actual, let me be blunt. General Akinouye is dead. As the Terran high commander present in this star system under Candlelight conditions, my authority supersedes even Code Black. Comply with your orders or Terran forces will consider you hostile.”

  “Candlelight” was the code used by TAF personnel to indicate that, as had occurred once before in the Republic’s history, the wormholes had gone dark. Under such conditions, Fleet flag officers were given command of Terran military assets in order to secure Terran interests. Li had argued that Operation Antivenom was of such vital importance that it overrode Candlelight conditions, but Admiral Wallace wasn’t buying it. He was ordering the Bonhoeffer, even in its badly-damaged state, to rendezvous with the 8th Fleet elements under his command to address the newly-arrived Zeen worldship.

  The Zeen moonlet was five hundred kilometers in diameter, and different from anything humanity had seen. Jenkins didn’t envy Wallace, and he could well imagine the man’s current pucker factor, although, if a warrior had to face a potentially hostile force, there were few better platforms from which to do so than a Terran dreadnought.

  The Marcus Aurelius was Admiral Wallace’s flagship, and few sights could inspire awe and fear like a Republican-class dreadnought. With a keel measuring ten kilometers from bow to stern, the titanic Terran warship was the product of intensive decade-long mining operations that slowly converted mineral-rich asteroids into heavily-armored mobile mass drivers.

  Although the “mobile” part was a matter of some debate. It was true that the Republican-class warships were capable of moving under their own power, but to do so at anything approaching tactical speeds required the ship’s mass driver to be employed as an engine.

  “Tactical assessment?” Jenkins asked.

  “They don’t have anything close enough to hit us,” Li replied matter of factly. “But that could change if he gets a bug up his ass between now and our rendezvous with the Zeen. Those Sleipnir-class corvettes can run down anything in Terran space,” he gestured to two pairs of 8th Fleet corvettes, “and they pack more than enough punch to put us down in our current state.”

  Jenkins nodded knowingly. Sleipnir-class corvettes were, uniquely in the Terran Armed Forces, exclusively crewed by cybernetically-augmented voiders (the update to the archaic “sailor” label). Every member of a Sleipnir’s thirty-nine crew had been radically modified to deal with the extreme gravitational forces of high-speed acceleration. The enhancements were extensive and, ultimately, life-shortening in the extreme. A Sleipnir voider had a life expectancy of just twenty-two years following installation of the implants, but despite the cost, there was no shortage of applicants for the job.

  “Those things can pull thirty-five gees during combat.” Jenkins scowled.

  Li scowled as well. “Those are just the official numbers. I’ve seen classified testing records verifying closer to fifty.”

  “They’re sprinters, but the speed comes at the cost of stamina,” Jenkins mused as all four corvettes broke formation and assumed an intercept trajectory that would bring them into missile range of the Bonhoeffer a full half-hour before it rendezvoused with the Zeen worldship.

  “We need more time.” Jenkins grimaced, meeting Li’s g
aze and holding it. “Break it down for him.”

  Li’s scowl deepened. “We’re already facing mutiny and dereliction of duty charges. What’s a little treason sprinkled on top for revealing classified intel?” He sighed shortly before keying up the mic. “Admiral Wallace, this is Bonhoeffer Actual requesting a secure P2P link.”

  Seconds ticked by at a torturous pace before the telltale blue light pulsed on the priority comm station. The Bonhoeffer was down to a skeleton crew, which meant that only one in four of her bridge stations was manned. With no one to handle the priority comm console, Li moved to authenticate and accept the inbound connection.

  “Li, what the fuck are you doing?” Admiral Wallace veritably snarled. “For over a century, every member of the TAF has trained for Candlelight conditions. There is no single greater threat to the Terran Republic than the one we currently face with the wormholes down. And not only that, but a fucking moon-sized unidentified battlestation just arrived on New America’s doorstep. I need answers, and I need them now!”

  “Admiral, I understand your frustration,” Li said heavily. “Let me put it as bluntly as I can: my mission, code-named ‘Operation Antivenom,’ is more vital to Terran security than erecting a defense against that moon base. Incidentally, that moon base is here to facilitate Operation Antivenom. I’m transmitting operational details previously kept from the rest of my branch, and even from the rest of the TAF, by General Akinouye and General Pushkin. The only active Terran Armed Forces personnel who have full access to this operation’s intel are the men and women presently aboard the Bonhoeffer, although Admiral Zhao should be apprised of it within the hour.”

  Li’s transmission contained everything except Jem’s existence. Wallace was in a position to deny them the opportunity to carry out their mission—which meant they had no choice but to deal with him on his terms—but to reveal Jem’s existence was to reveal the most sensitive aspect of their operation, which was simply too great a risk for them to take. If Wallace’s command was compromised by Jemmin collaborators, and if they revealed Jem’s existence to the Jemmin, there was no way for Operation Antivenom to be successful.

  Their trust could go only so far.

  Seconds passed before Wallace scoffed, then said, “Your story’s got more holes than a Vorr sexbot. How could you get a message off to Admiral Zhao with the wormhole down? As far as I’m concerned, your data packet is just another in a long string of attempts to push me off while you rendezvous with that moon base. Heave to, Colonel Li, and await my inspection teams.”

  “Admiral Wallace.” Jenkins raised his voice as the four Sleipnir-class corvettes surged forward, accelerating at nearly thirty gees. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Lee Jenkins. It was my team that conducted the secret diplomatic mission on Shiva’s Wrath where we first contacted the species aboard that moon base. That mission was carried out under the direct supervision of General Benjamin Akinouye, who was killed during Operation Brick Top a few weeks ago. That operation produced tangible evidence in support of my mission. General Akinouye died so that we could safely extract that evidence, sir.”

  “Why am I not surprised to find a ship-jumping drunk at the heart of this mess?” Wallace sneered. A “ship-jumper” was what Fleet personnel disdainfully called someone who transferred from Fleet to another branch of the TAF, and the drunk bit was a well-known fact of Jenkins’ personal life. “Your careers are over, gentlemen. Enough with the hand-waving; I’m dispatching inspection teams. Heave to and await them or suffer the consequences.”

  “Admiral,” Jenkins pressed, ignoring the digs about his personal history, “I respectfully request that you do not reveal any of what I’m about to tell you, not even to your command staff.” He waited for several seconds, giving Wallace a chance to isolate the inbound data stream if he chose to. Eventually, Jenkins continued, “That moon base was built by a species known as the Zeen, who were introduced to us by the Vorr back on Shiva’s Wrath. They used an alien FTL transit system to come to New America 2, which is a sparsely-inhabited star system. If they meant the Terran Republic harm, they could have dropped into orbit over Terra Americana, or even Terra Han. They came here to rendezvous with the Bonhoeffer, Admiral, not to antagonize Terran interests.”

  The pregnant pause stretched on before Wallace replied, “All you’re doing is admitting to collaborating with an alien species, Colonel, under circumstances that clearly make such collaborations treasonous. You’re not a diplomat, Jenkins, you’re a serviceman…or at least that’s what you’re supposed to be. You may have forgotten your duty, Colonels, but I most certainly have not forgotten mine. We are at Candlelight, gentlemen. This is the most dangerous moment in the Republic’s history, and I will not suffer mutiny under such conditions. Your careers are over, but you might be able to save your lives if you comply with my orders.”

  “Admiral,” Colonel Li interjected, “I urge you to review the packet I sent over. We already have an officer aboard the Zeen moon base, and our operational timetable is set. Operation Antivenom is go, and we must complete it as quickly as possible.”

  “You have your orders,” Wallace snarled. “8th Fleet, out.”

  Jenkins and Li watched as the Sleipnirs continued their sprint to intercept the relatively sluggish Bonhoeffer. Li cocked his head grimly before raising his voice. “Set Condition One throughout the ship. Everyone to their couches.”

  The crew did as bidden, with the bridge stations requiring little in the way of adjustment to convert workstation chairs into couches capable of supporting their occupants at up to twelve gees for sustained intervals.

  But anyone with a decent grasp of mathematics could see that the Sleipnirs would easily intercept them long before they reached the moon base. In fact, at the Sleipnirs’ present forty gees of acceleration, they would do so just as the Bonhoeffer began braking for final approach to the moon base.

  Jenkins strapped into the XO’s couch, since she was no longer aboard the ship following Li’s decision not to include her in the mission. Concerns about her Fleet affiliations had ultimately caused him to reject her, and Jenkins wasn’t about to second-guess Li’s personnel decisions in such a critical hour.

  The Bonhoeffer began its max-burn, and the couches supported their occupants up to the Bonhoeffer’s maximum twelve gees of acceleration. For several long, agonizing minutes, it seemed as though the Sleipnirs would intercept the Bonhoeffer precisely as Wallace had declared.

  Then they slowed. Forty gees fell to thirty, down to twenty, and ultimately they stabilized at fifteen gees of acceleration. At that rate, they would be unable to intercept the Bonhoeffer in time to prevent it from linking up with the Zeen worldship.

  But no sighs of relief were breathed aboard the Dietrich Bonhoeffer as the battered Assault Carrier continued its max-burn approach to the Zeen worldship. Admiral Wallace had given them a grudging reprieve, and they needed to take full advantage of it if they were to complete their mission.

  Jenkins blacked out several times during the burn, as he generally did during such conditions, but his focus on the objective never wavered for a second.

  He had a job to do, and by God, he was going to get it done.

  1

  Prep for Launch

  Captain Xi Bao, aboard the courier ship DC03, finally docked with the Dietrich Bonhoeffer as the aged warship took up station near the Zeen worldship. She was one of a handful of humans who were allowed on board the massive Zeen ship. The Bonhoeffer wasn’t even authorized to dock with the worldship.

  Xi was greeted at the airlock by Lieutenant Colonel Jenkins, to whom she offered a salute.

  “Maybe we should have gone to headquarters to get promoted,” Xi suggested.

  “Nah. They would have expected too much from us then. It would have sucked to get there and have General Kavanaugh tear up the promotion orders in front of us.” Jenkins shrugged.

  “I’m sure you’re right. Easy come, easy go.”

  Jenkins nodded and returned Xi’s salute.
br />   “Good work, Captain. Report.”

  “The Zeen will need some time to recharge their FTL system, sir,” Xi replied promptly. “It’s difficult to get details out of them, but I don’t think they even know how long it will take for them to calibrate the system for us.”

  Jenkins’ brow lowered darkly. “Admiral Wallace has put four warships just beyond engagement range. Every minute that ticks by gives him another chance to change his mind.”

  “Understood, sir,” Xi replied grimly. “But even if the FTL system was charged and ready to go, the Vorr ambassador suggests that we make certain…modifications to the Bonhoeffer before transiting to Sol.”

  Jenkins cocked his head. “I don’t think Colonel Li is going to like that.”

  “No, sir,” she agreed. “But Deep Currents has shown me tactical simulations that convince me there’s something to the idea. The whole process should only take a few hours to complete.”

  “Hours?” Jenkins repeated darkly. “We don’t have hours, Captain. We might not even have minutes.”