Free Loralynn Kennakris 3: Asylum by Owen R. O'Neill, Jordan Leah Hunter Page A

Only this time, they weren’t going to use her people for the stick. And if anyone tried to, they were also in for a big fuckin’ surprise—she’d make sure of that.

Z-Day minus 29
Phase Plane Indigo;
November-Ocean Quadrant, Cygnus Region
    The flank of the enemy dreadnought nearly filled the assault shuttle’s forward screen, growing as they approached, until Captain Lewis could make out the lines of the hatches on the millimeter-wave display. A dozen assault birds were ghosting up on the dreadnought’s port hanger deck, abaft the triple line of gun ports. Another ten were targeting the gundeck hatches amidships. Ten more shuttles came behind, ready to support either thrust, or even attempt the starboard boat deck, if need be.
    “Sappers in position, sir,” Major Bradshaw, the XO, relayed over the command link. The 50-ton demolition charges the sappers had attached to the engine housing would guarantee a mobility kill, if nothing else. “Point-defense mounts disabled, starboard side aft. Captain Talbot is primed.” In theory, taking out the starboard point-defense should freeze the defenders, as long as the decoys held. Talbot’s people would seal off the gundecks and the forward weapons spaces, then isolate the bridge. Lewis’s company would board through the hanger, take the main junctions, then secure engineering and CIC.
    “Very good, Major.” Lieutenant Colonel Kerr sounded pleased and switched to the all-hands circuit. “Okay, people. This is it. Get hot! Shipbreakers away!”
    A platoon of shipbreakers deployed from their shuttles, boosting in with suit thrusters. Their specialty was blowing hatches and cracking ports. Here, their goal was the hanger doors and a small hatch forward through which a team led by Lieutenant Martin could access a maintenance space where they could cut the cable runs, portside, that controlled weapons, hatches and anti-boarding measures.
    Up ahead, the shipbreakers latched on and set their shaped charges. Waiting twenty seconds for the shuttles to come in range—the moment those charges detonated, the defenders would know they’d been pulled to the wrong side—they fired them. Lines of bright violet flared along the seams as the metal seals boiled.
    “Lead shuttles, kick in!” barked Kerr.
    A quintet of specially fitted shuttles shot forward. Across the nose of each were large plates that welded on contact, four to the hanger doors and the fifth to the maintenance hatch. There was a moment of agonizing tension as all waited to see if the shipbreakers had done their work. Then the shuttles tore open the hanger doors and jettisoned them, sending the large sheets of armor plate twirling away.
    Immediately, the shuttles coming up behind fired a salvo of antipersonnel charges into the hanger and skidded in through the explosions. As they touched down, the hatches popped and Kerr hollered over the net, “Fox platoon, take the left! Kilo, you hold this ground! Victor platoon, with me!”
    In the back of the third shuttle to land, Troy Anders touched his helmet to Minerva Lewis’s. “What the hell does he think he’s doing? Makin’ a vid?”
    “You wanted him field polished, Lieutenant.” The slow smile was evident in her voice. “Now you’re gettin’ your wish.”
    “Oh gawd,” muttered Anders, shifting his assault rifle to hand as he prepared to disembark. “I hate this shit.”
    *     *     *
    “Fire teams, open out!” ordered Lewis. “Watch those corners!” She clicked to the command link. “Whatcha got, Anders?”
    “Looks like they’re holed up at the main spline junctions. Got perimeter plasma rigged all around.”
    Next to her, Kerr, listening on the same circuit, nodded. “Concentrating their defense and relying on the plasma to disrupt us.” He did not sound as if he approved. They were at the entrance to the right-side main passageway, leading from the hanger deck into the central part of the ship. “If we move now, we and Captain