Ghost Fleet

by Isaac Stone

  “That ship has its own awareness,” I felt Captains words in my mind. She might be on the bridge while I waited along with my crew, but I could hear her in my head the same. We were close; very close now.

  “It's part of the thing inside the cluster, she told me. “We have no way to understand how it works, but the ship is alive.”

  “I hope you've let the navy know what we’re up against,” I let her know. “This is a whole new game we play.”

  “They know but they refuse to admit it, like Precious and her unique attraction to fire.”

  I was silent. How did she know about the little burn fetish Precious confessed to me the last time we’d slept together? I didn’t think she’d spy in on all the lovemaking on board the ship. Hell, so much went on every night, there was no way she had time to review every climax.

  Then I remembered we were near in the mental link. The other night when the entire ship had joined together as one awareness still lingered in our minds.

  Precious had a series of scars on her inner left thigh from memorial customers to whom she’d been sold at a young age. She explained this was an added attraction for the sick bastards who paid extra. She kept them as a memory of her earlier life and as motivation every time she’s thought about killing a man. Now, she was different, but the exterior scares remained.

  The other night she told me it would be nice if I let her mark me the same way. She wanted a claim on me that no one else had. She assured me it could be done with minimal pain and I’d enjoy it. I told her that wasn’t a good idea, but never got around to discussing the problem with Captain. Now, Captain knew. She realized Precious still had some deep-seated problems we needed to address.

  Self-repairing murder ships and a harem full of crazy pirate girls. What a life.

  10

  After two days of uneventful picket duty, both Tank and I were sent, along with our respective FAS crews, out to investigate a disabled ghost ship.

  This one hadn’t made the self-repairs when it was hit during a massive battle between twelve navy battle cruisers and a swarm of ghosts. The navy scored a rare victory and the ghost ships withdrew back to the cluster. In the aftermath of the battle, the UDF Navy notified us that the ship was drifting into our patrol zone and that they had a small security frigate on the way to intercept.

  We were ordered into the zone to check it out. Once the Thunder Horse did a flyby, it observed the disabled ghost ship seemed to be drifting listlessly. The internal atmosphere and gravitational controls were fine, but the ghost ship showed no signs of life.

  Once again, Tank and I flew in to board the abandoned ghost ship. The security frigate sent a squad of tactical marines to join us. This time we docked and entered the ship without any opposition.

  “This is all starting to seem familiar,” Tank spoke to me as we stood in the corridor of the ship we’d boarded. “Oh, look, here come the marines.” We looked down the corridor to see a group of twelve marines in full battle gear approach. I didn’t hear their boots as we still had our helmets sealed.

  “See anything?” Tank asked the marine commander as they approached us. “I'm guessing the answer is no.”

  “Place is abandoned,” one of the marines spoke to us. “Weren’t you one of the guys on that other ghost ship that was boarded?”

  Tank nodded. “Let’s go find some bad guys.”

  This time Tank and I stopped as we reached the domed pilot room with the panels mounted into the walls. All of us had edged weapons ready, but I wasn’t sure they would do much good.

  Inside the dome were at least forty shadow figures working between the panels, trying to figure something out.

  “Is there no way to get them to see us?” the marine officer asked me. I shook my head.

  “Not that I am aware of,” I spoke to him. “They’ll go about their business in this ship unaware we are here. I think they exist in neutral space between the dead and the living. Don’t even think they know they’re dead. We ended up retreating from the last ghost ship we boarded and blew it up from a distance.

  They shades walked right past us and continued to go about whatever task they were performing. I felt a chill when one of them walked close to me, but, other than that, I didn’t sense anything else.

  “So, do we just leave?” One of the other marines asked. “If these things don’t have any substance to them, how are we supposed to capture them? Wasn’t that the entire point of the mission? Take prisoners and the ship intact? I can’t see how we’re supposed to take anything intact if it has no solid form.”

  “The ship itself has substance,” Tank pointed out. He stomped a few times on the floor. “At least I feel it beneath my boot.”

  The moment his boot hit the floor, the shades stopped what they were doing and froze. When he quit stomping the floor, the shades began to look in all directions.

  It appeared there was a way to get them to see us.

  “Did you just see that?” I spoke in a hushed voice to the others. “Tank got them to take notice. Appears there is a way to get their attention.” We had the visors up on our helmets and could speak freely to each other.

  The marine officer stomped the floor several times, but the shades paid him no attention. They continued to look around to see if the original sound came from somewhere else.

  “Makes sense,” Tank spoke. “They have to use them to target on our ships and colonies. If they can’t interact with our reality, how could they be of any use to whom or whatever controls this ship?”

  “Which doesn’t explain why they notice Tank, but not me,” the officer spoke. He had a point.

  “Tank and I rated high on the Goat Squad’s tests,” I spoke to him. “It could be that we’re the only ones here they can recognize.”

  “Goat Squad?” the marine asked.

  “Office of Paranormality,” I told him. “We call it the Goat Squad.” There were a few snickers in the background.

  “So, you both tested high?” the officer asked again.

  “Just Corwin,” Tank replied. “I did alright, but he was far higher on the scale than me.”

  The officer turned in my direction. “So why don’t you see what you can do?”

  “I was about to suggest it myself,” I sighed. If Tank stomping his boot down got their attention, perhaps I could talk to them.

  All I had with me at the time was a short sword. I’d left the shield behind in the FAS, as I didn’t think I’d be able to use it in these small corridors. The others carried a combination of shields, swords, and halberds. Tank and I both carried impact guns that dangled from our belts, as did the marine officer. A gun was the last thing you wanted to use in space as one shot could blow open a hull and send both of you into the great void, but it felt good to have it handy anyway.

  I walked out slow into the doomed chamber that served as a bridge or pilot room for the ghost ship. We still didn’t know a lot as to how these ships functioned. They seemed to be able to make the jump through Insubstantia the same as our ships, but they had different ways of navigation and propulsion.

  Two of the shades were right in front of me. They were in the process of searching around a panel for the source of the sound generated by Tank. Up close, I had a better view of them. They were pale and semi-transparent. Through the outline, which was somewhat human, you could glimpse the outline of internal organs and body fluids. I wondered if we existed in the plane of a different dimension and could see into their insides, the way a sphere can look down at a circle and see inside it.

  One way to find out.

  I jabbed out at the nearest shade with my sword and pulled back. The sword encountered some resistance, but not what you’d expect from a corporeal form. The sword point encountered a barrier of some kind, but not enough to stop it from moving. I stood back to see what the jab accomplished.

  The shade changed from a chalk white to a red color and fell to the floor. I stood there and looked down at it, never expecting such a response. I was puzz
led this would happen.

  The form on the floor turned a bright green and then vanished.

  Never thought this would happen, I thought to myself as I stood there and regarded the former shade. There was much that no one didn’t know about these things and I’d found out something new.

  At which point all the shades turned in my direction and changed color.

  They became solid silver forms. All of them turned the same glossy silver. I could detect no features other than a human form in silver. Had someone wrapped a mummy with silver tape, the effect would be similar. But even with no eyes, it was plain to see they could find me and knew where I was. There had to be at least thirty of them in that room and they all possessed the same form.

  And in the left hand, each carried a very sharp knife with a silver handle. The blade, which was gold, was the only part of them that did not appear to be coated in silver paint.

  Four of them came at me direct while the others waited to see what I would do. I remembered the old saying from my drill instruction days, “The only thing you can know for sure in a steel fight is that someone will die.” I jumped back out of the way and let the first one shoot past me as I swung up and across with the short sword.

  The blade caught the silver shape in the middle and it turned color, falling to the ground. Once it hit the ground, it changed color again and vanished.

  By now, I was trying to get the wall to my rear and slid back to the nearest surface. I turned to the right and saw another silver shade attack me. This one was a little smarter and controlled its knife with both hands. It jabbed out at me and slashed at my arm. The blade struck the armor and made a screech as it deflected off. By now I was ready for the return and struck down at my assailant, who went to the floor in the same manner as the last attacker.

  I had enough time to glance at the arm it struck with the blade. I saw a long gash that almost went thought the metal. They could get through our armor with the right strike or slash. Had the blade struck at a joint or any other part of me not covered in metal, I’d be on the floor bleeding out.

  The tactical marines swarmed into the room ahead of Tank and my crew, as they could at last reach out and affect their enemy. They were young men eager for their first fight and taste of blood. I could feel their lust for glory in my mind. It was amplified by the numbers and it smelled pure. I wasn’t sure if the shades could see them as well, but the answer came when a ghostly figure struck the body armor of a marine with its dagger from a high guard position. The blade pierced through his armor and the marine went down in a pool of blood.

  The shades could see us and we them. Now they had substance. Somehow, my jab with the sword brought both dimensions together and we could strike out at each other.

  One of the other shades attacked me. With one hand, I grabbed its arm, or what resembled an arm, and tossed it into the next assailant. The thing had weight to it. Not much, no more than a hundred standard pounds, but it had enough mass to send the one behind it into the wall.

  By now, I had my visor down and could see the vitals of my crew in the corner screen inside the helmet. Everyone was still alive, though a few of my men had already sustained a few injuries, but it was questionable how much longer we would stay that way. I swung out at another silver figure and watched it turn orange as it flew to the ground. At least they vanished when killed. Our side’s bodies were piling up however, making our footing precarious as several more marines fell to the daggers of the enemy. With a full group of marines, our FAS crews, and the clutch of enemies now suddenly solid, the space was cramped and the fighting intense. More shades were entering the melee from other parts of the ship, as if our interaction had solidified every hostile on this boat.

  I remembered when I’d mind-merged with Captain and the others. There wasn’t the time to reason it out, but I felt the fear and drive from my own men. As I took down another shade, I felt Rin, one of Tank’s guys go down in a geyser of red as two shades struck him. If we didn’t get out of this place, Captain would need to replace both of her crews.

  I concentrated and reached out to the mind of my and Tank’s crews. For one brief instant, we merged, and I was able to send out a message to everyone.

  “They have the number!. Get back to your ships and we'll blow this place up before we lose any more people.” Then I let my mind fall back as I slashed through another shade. I found the doorway we’d used to gain entrance to the room and pushed everybody behind me.

  In front of me, there were still a handful of marines left in the fight, but the brave men had pressed to far into the thick of the fighting, and were being overrun. Twenty or more shades were advancing in our direction with drawn knives. From where I stood, I could see more of them pouring into the pilot room from the other side.

  One of the marines carried a halberd and slashed through two of the nearest shades. They both went down, but another one grabbed the weapon’s shaft, tied it up just long enough, and allowed two more of them to gut the marine. He went down to join his spilled insides on the deck.

  I grabbed the shoulder of the nearest marine in front of me and drug him along with us to the exit hatch. “We’re getting the hell out of this place,” I told him.

  “No can do sir, UDF marine corps, retreat is not an option,” said the marine as he planted his feet just inside the exit hatch, his eyes sweeping across the chamber to see the last of his fellow marines fall to the stabbing blades of the swarming ghosts.

  "I'll hold the hatch."

  I've seen that look in the eyes of warriors before, and I knew better than to argue. I followed the rest of the FAS crew down the corridor. I heard him scream, and turned to see him charge into the swarm of shades with his saber. He took down four of them until a mass of the shadow creatures brought him down in a frenzy of knives. A gallant death if ever I saw one.

  By now, after the brief mind merge, all our people were organized and moved in a pattern down the hall. Tank and Sherwood took the six position and moved together in case the shades had any plans to attack us from the rear. For some reason, they didn’t try to out flank us and continued to strike from the other side. I felt my adrenaline rage as I struck out at any shade that tried to get too close. By now, I’d taken one corner of the retreating column and had Orlando fall back in the middle. Tran was across from me and we managed to create a kill pocket that would take care of any shade that tried to charge us.

  We made the retreat down the corridor as one unit. There was still enough of the group mind left to allow us to reach the hangers where the FAS ships were docked. I didn’t know where the marines docked their transport and we didn’t have time to find out. The shades were piling up on the other side and soon they would be able to overwhelm us in one charge. Right now, they were disorganized and attacked one or two at a time, which we put down quick. But I could see some of them in the rear trying to organize an attack in force. How they differentiated in rank, I couldn't tell. It didn’t matter, as they understood who to follow.

  “Corwin," I heard the voice of Alyx call out over my audio, “Captain wants to know what your situation is inside that thing. The marines tell us all their people are dead. We see you just lost someone. Respond!”

  “Lost Rin,” I told her, “This place is full of silver ghosts. I don’t know how to describe them any other way. They’ve got substance all the sudden. We’re going to get the hell out of here and then you can blow this place!”

  “Navy is going to hit it with a missile salvo in five minutes,” Alyx sent back. “They say it’s too dangerous to leave it intact. It’s starting to move on its own and they can’t risk it back in operation. You’ve got to get out of there now!”

  “We've reached the hanger!” I heard the voice of Tank behind me on the audio. “Hatch is sealed. I’m going to risk ventilation by blowing it up, visors down. We can’t waste time!”

  “Give Tank some room!” I ordered over the audio. “Big guys to our front!”

  Tank’s largest guys and
Orlando worked their way to the front and began to chop down on the increasing force thrown at us by the shades. The hostiles went down quick, but more took their place. I glance back to watch Tank rig a shape charge on the hatch to the hanger. He and Sherwood had it in place seconds later.

  “Fire in the hold!” Tank yelled and detonated the charge. It was enough time for us to grab onto what we could find in the corridor. Ventilation in deep space was not something anyone wanted to experience.

  I felt the concussion of the explosion behind me and saw metal fly over my head. Bits of shrapnel bounced off my suit armor and against the corridor walls. We held onto each other, but the shock wave sent the shade column back the way they’d come.

  What I didn’t feel was the sudden rush of air back toward the hanger. Rapid ventilation from a breech in the hull could empty all the air out of a starship in minutes, depending on the size of the rupture. In a smaller ship, such as this ghost ship we were inside, it could happen in seconds. Even with our suit armor on, we could all be sucked out into the void of space where we’d die when our environmental systems failed. I didn't rate the prospects of our survival as very high, should ventilation happen, as the navy was minutes away from vaporizing this ship.

  But no ventilation. It meant the hanger was still intact and we could get to our ships.

  In the smoke that swirled, I could see the shades start to pick themselves up from the ground. It wouldn’t be long.

  “To the ships!” I yelled. “We've only got a few minutes!”

  Before the shades could regroup, we were through the ruptured hatch and into the hanger. I activated the doors to mine as Tank did the same to his. By the times both doors were closed, the shades poured through the hatch and surrounded both FAS ships. They didn’t have anything on them that could damage either ship, but that’s not what worried me.