Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4)

by Anthony James

  “Commander Aston is holding fire, sir,” said Burner. “We’re waiting to see what…oh shit – the Galactar is here.”

  The words made Recker go cold and he opened his mouth to give an order.

  The order didn’t come. Without warning, Recker was gripped by a pain of such exquisite intensity it made him feel as if every nerve in his body had been dipped in acid. He opened his mouth to scream and a thousand images shot into his mind, of dead Meklon, their faces twisted in death’s agony. At that moment, he knew what afflicted him.

  Extractor.

  Recker fought to remain conscious and failed. His vision dimmed and he sank slowly to the floor. The last sight he had before darkness came was of his soldiers falling with him.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Time passed and Recker became faintly aware of a distant pain. His brain sought understanding and suddenly that distant pain came rushing closer until it filled every horizon. With it came realization.

  I’m not dead.

  He lacked the capability to act on the knowledge. His body was too weak and his muscles wouldn’t respond, not that Recker was even sure signals from his brain were reaching those muscles. More time passed and a sense of urgency grew in the recesses of his mind, pushing away some of the physical pain.

  The Galactar. Oh shit. The Fulcrum. The platoon.

  The bombardment of thoughts jerked him back to full consciousness and the pain threatened to overwhelm him again. The agony seemed to have no source, like it was a complete state of being. With the greatest effort, he opened one of his leg pockets and took out an injector, which he stabbed into his thigh. The squirt of cold Frenziol made him wince instinctively and then the drug was in his blood, spreading eagerly into his body.

  With a groan, Recker finally opened his eyes, wondering if the Lavorix might have come while he was unconscious and carried him off to the Galactar for torture and interrogation. Instead, he found himself in the Lodor bay control room, on the floor and underwater.

  “Ah crap, what was that?” groaned Corporal Hendrix.

  “Extractor,” Recker grunted in response. “Who else is awake?” he demanded on the comms channel. “Speak!”

  Sergeant Vance mumbled something and then came other voices.

  “Boosters,” said Recker. “Use them.”

  What about the Daklan?

  The Frenziol was doing an incredible job of revival and the way it coursed through his body put Recker in mind of a different kind of wave, this one washing away his pain and leaving him capable of action. He struggled to his feet and his eyes located Sergeant Shadar. The Daklan was unmoving and his face was contorted in a way that Recker had never seen before. He had a single spare injector and he used it on Shadar.

  With a convulsive heave, the Daklan came awake, his eyes wide and his teeth bared in a snarl.

  “Don’t move until you’re ready,” Recker ordered. He raised his voice. “Who’s carrying a spare booster?”

  Vance and his squad weren’t the kind to inject for fun and they all had an extra. It wasn’t enough to go around, but Hendrix had a pack containing another dozen or more. The human soldiers swam amongst the Daklan, giving each a shot of the drugs.

  While Vance and his squad got on, Recker opened a channel to the Fulcrum.

  “Fulcrum, this is Recker, please report.”

  The link strength was fine, but no answer came. He tried again and got the same result. With nobody talking, Recker approached the control station console and attempted to focus the shaft monitors upwards, to see if he could locate the battleship. The sensors were intended for the bay only and they wouldn’t aim in the direction he wanted. What he did learn was that the Extractor was indiscriminate and it had killed all the Lavorix in the bay. That at least was a bonus.

  Not yet ready to celebrate, Recker tried the comms for the third unsuccessful time and then stood impatiently while the Daklan shook off the Extractor attack.

  For once it seemed as if the physical advantage lay with humanity and the aliens struggled with the aftereffects. Slowly, the Daklan struggled to their feet, most appearing dazed, if no longer in any great pain.

  “Anyone want to tell me what happened?” asked Gantry.

  “We got extracted,” said Montero. “Except we didn’t get fully extracted, which is why none of us is dead.”

  “I still feel like shit,” said Private Raimi, his voice remote owing to the quantity of painkillers Hendrix’s med-box had fed him with.

  “We’ve got you, man,” said Montero, her tone less confident than the words.

  “We didn’t die, but all those Lavorix in the bay got taken out by their own side,” said Recker. “I don’t know if we made it because we were all boosted or because the Extractor is tuned to work best on the Meklon.” He gave a short, humourless laugh. “And the Lavorix.”

  “What about the Fulcrum, sir?” asked Vance.

  “No response to the comms. The ship hasn’t been destroyed, otherwise there’d be no channel. What happened to the crew, I don’t know.”

  “Was the crew boosted?” asked Montero.

  Recker gave a single shake of his head. “No.”

  “So they might be dead.”

  The possibility was a hard one to deny and Recker tried not to be affected by the thought. If his crew were gone, he couldn’t change that and he had a duty to keep these soldiers alive.

  “If they’re dead, that’s something we can’t fix,” he said.

  “What next, sir?” asked Gantry.

  “I need time to think,” said Recker.

  He dropped to his haunches and racked his brain for ideas. The air in his lungs made his balance precarious and he rose again. Usually, striding about would dislodge a plan. He tried doing so, but movement through the water required extra coordination and he gave it up.

  “Did the CX1 module get to where it was supposed to?” asked Steigers.

  “I don’t know, Private.”

  The man’s words set wheels turning in Recker’s head. If the Fulcrum wasn’t destroyed, that made it likely the Tri-Cannon was still operational. He guessed the Lavorix were so sure of their Extractor that they’d be entirely confident it had killed everyone. That made him think the enemy would attempt to recover the Tri-Cannon hardware since they had nothing to lose by doing so. The big question was whether they’d shot down the CX1 module, since the Lavorix wouldn’t have known what it was and might have simply blown it out of the sky - assuming the module hadn’t coupled with the Tri-Cannon before the Galactar arrived.

  “We’ve got to reach the Fulcrum,” he said. “If the Tri-Cannon is operational, I might be able to do something with it.”

  “Is the Galactar still over the Oracon-1 base, sir?” asked Vance.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant. I’ve got a feeling the enemy will stick around to check out the Tri-Cannon. It’s the first thing they’ve run into that punches hard enough to damage their shield.”

  “The Galactar crew might be interested in that gun, but they’re not going to let us fly up there and fire it straight into their faces, are they?” said Private Carrington.

  “That’s what I have to try and figure out,” said Recker.

  “Can’t you take remote control of the Fulcrum, sir?” asked Drawl. “I thought that kind of stuff was easy these days.”

  “The Lavorix have shut down the Oracon-1 outbound comms, Private. Otherwise I might be able to do exactly what you suggest.”

  “You can’t do it with suit comms?”

  “A warship won’t accept control requests from suit comms units – only from authorised stations. It’s to stop an enemy flooding the receptors with low-level requests designed to overwhelm the comms system.”

  “Let the Captain think, Private Drawl,” said Vance.

  “It’s fine, Sergeant. Sometimes talking helps.”

  Despite those words, Recker was starting to feel helpless and he asked himself what the point was in having an Extinction Protocol security tier that
didn’t let him do whatever the hell he wanted with the hardware.

  “The map shows a comms station, sir,” said Montero. “With all the Lavorix dead, we could head over there. Maybe you could find out how to get around the comms block.”

  The idea which Recker had been doing his best to wring from his brain arrived. Upon first mental inspection, this idea was little more than a possibility to investigate – a slight diversion on a road that was otherwise heading nowhere.

  “I might be able to control the Fulcrum with the suit comms,” he said.

  “Why the change of mind, sir?” asked Vance.

  “The Fulcrum’s comms is designed to block suit requests,” said Recker, warming to his idea. “However, the Tri-Cannon has its own, separate comms system which is fully tied in with the Fulcrum’s. That means the two systems trust each other.”

  “I don’t follow,” said Vance.

  “Captain Recker believes the Tri-Cannon’s comms system may accept a control request from his spacesuit,” said Shadar, showing that the Extractor hadn’t completely knocked him out of the game.

  “That’s right, Sergeant. The Tri-Cannon was new and experimental, with its own modified software. It’s possible the Meklon didn’t have time to add the finishing touches.”

  “What’s keeping us?” said Montero.

  Recker could hear the optimism creeping into her voice and he hoped his idea wouldn’t end up falling flat. “Nothing’s keeping us,” he said.

  The channel to the Fulcrum was still open and Recker closed it. Once done, he set the comms unit in his suit hunting for other receptors. His heart jumped when he located one for the Tri-Cannon and he requested a connection.

  “Shit,” he said a moment later. “It won’t even let me connect, let alone request control.”

  Montero’s face fell. “I guess the Meklon anticipated your plan, sir.”

  Even Vance looked like he was beaten, though his expression hardened quickly. “The comms station, then?” he asked.

  To Recker, it felt like every dangling carrot he reached for was plucked away by the hand of a cruel master. And in this instance, that master was a 700-billion-ton warship which had dogged his footsteps for what seemed like forever. And now, the enemy was on the brink of victory. The Oracon-1 comms station was the only option left and Recker didn’t think the Lavorix would have made it easy to remove the block they’d placed on the facility.

  And then, he saw a flickering on his comms unit, which was still in search mode. A receptor appeared for just long enough that Recker’s helmet computer recorded it and added it as a grey to the list of known receivers. Hardly daring to believe it, he read the name.

  CX1 Comms Module 0

  “The CX1 module has a comms unit as well,” he said. “If it coupled with the Tri-Cannon, its systems – including the comms - should have tied in automatically.”

  “And that means the CX1 comms would be trusted by the Fulcrum,” said Montero. “Right?”

  “Dead right, Corporal. The trouble is, the receptor’s grey, which is likely because the CX1 receiver is now shielded by several hundred metres of Tri-Cannon alloy.”

  “We need to be closer,” said Vance.

  Recker nodded. “The receptor flickered, which means we’re on the brink of connection range.”

  “Being underground doesn’t help,” said Montero. “If we were on the surface…”

  “Not the surface, Corporal. I’m hoping somewhere up that shaft will be enough.”

  “That’s a long way to swim in a full loadout, Captain,” said Gantry. “Even if I dumped this MG-12, I don’t think I could make it.”

  “Captain Recker intends to use one of the shuttles,” said Sergeant Shadar.

  “Why walk when you can fly?” Recker agreed.

  “Can you even fly underwater?” asked Drawl.

  Recker didn’t answer. With the bay alarm cancelled, he was able to connect to one of the huge lifter shuttles, which he hoped wasn’t too damaged by the Fulcrum’s plasma missiles. The comms link didn’t allow him to extract a status report, but it did allow him to command the shuttle to land outside the control station.

  The vessel could travel through water, if not very quickly, and it was a full minute later that its autopilot confirmed a landing.

  “Our transport is outside,” said Recker.

  He didn’t wait any longer and made his way to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Immediately beyond the door, Recker found his progress blocked by dozens of Lavorix corpses. The alien scumbags had evidently been attempting to break inside when the Extractor killed them, and he spotted a fist-sized square object, which resembled a pack charge, stuck to the doorframe.

  Recker pushed the bodies aside. Their six limbs floated and dangled and he felt for a moment like he was fighting his way through a bed of grasping seaweed. Shadar emerged from the control station and shouldered the corpses enthusiastically out of his path. The display of energy made Recker confident the Daklan was recovered from the Extractor attack.

  When he broke clear, Recker spotted the shuttle twenty metres away and resting on its thick legs. Even from this distance he could sense the vibration of its engines beating against him. Before heading over, he paused to check the comms link to the CX1 module. The receptor flickered once or twice and that was all.

  The shuttle’s side entrance was closed and, when he was close enough, Recker confidently placed his hand on the access panel. A red light stayed red and the door didn’t open.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” he muttered.

  A second try had absolutely zero chance of producing a more successful outcome and Recker knew it. Nevertheless, he gave it a go, pretending to himself that his hand had acted independently of his brain.

  “There is another door on the far side,” said Shadar. “I noticed when we first arrived in the bay.”

  Pulling himself underneath the vessel using the landing legs for assistance, Recker emerged on the shuttle’s other flank. Sure enough, he found a second door and a second access panel. With rather less confidence than before, Recker hit the panel. The door remained steadfastly closed and he swore in response.

  “The doors won’t open because the shuttle is underwater,” he guessed. “There’ll be an override method, maybe triggered from the console in the control station.”

  “Are we heading back?” asked Vance.

  “I’m done with all these delays, Sergeant,” said Recker. “Get on the roof – I’ll tell the autopilot to fly us into the shaft.”

  The shuttle’s sides were smooth and impossible to climb, except for a single ladder which the squad ignored. Instead, they swam to the roof. It wasn’t far – twenty metres or so – but the effort was enough to assure Recker he had no hope of swimming out of the shaft if he ever needed to. With or without the two Frenziol shots he’d taken.

  “That’s everyone, sir,” said Vance. “I’ve ordered them to stay in the middle.”

  Recker nodded his thanks and waited for the last of the soldiers to reach the huddle in the centre of the shuttle’s broad beam. The vessel’s upper plating was as smooth as the sides and offered no purchase. Anyone who lost their balance would sink to the bay floor and returning for them would put everyone at risk, whatever the outcome with the CX1 module.

  “I’ve changed my mind about the autopilot,” said Recker. “It won’t be programmed for situations like this. I’ll take manual control.”

  The expression on Vance’s face showed he understood the difficulties of manually piloting a spaceship remotely. Every command would need to be routed into the navigational computer, from where it would be enacted. It was much harder than sitting at the pilot’s console, with everything in easy reach. For a straightforward flight across the bay and into the shaft – underwater or not - Recker was sure he could manage.

  He checked his platoon were ready and their responses displayed an eagerness he had not expected.

  “This will not be lik
e a fairground ride,” Recker assured them.

  “They’re taking bets on who’ll fall off,” said Vance on the officer channel. “I’ve ordered them to focus.”

  Recker didn’t wait any longer. He fed power into the engines and the propulsion note deepened so much that he could feel it in his bones. The feeling was strange rather than painful and he increased the engine power further until he could sense the shuttle was on the brink of lifting off. A fraction more and it rose from the bay floor.

  Slowly and steadily he took the vessel higher. The murk of the water made it difficult to navigate and the bay lights were muddy patches of yellowy grey around the walls. Many shapes hung suspended in the water - the newly killed Lavorix adding to the Meklon dead. The bodies were too numerous to avoid and Recker didn’t try. Corpses thumped gently against the shuttle’s plating as the vessel continued its climb. One or two of the bodies struck the clustered soldiers, producing a combination of merriment and cursing.

  When the bay ceiling became visible, Recker halted the shuttle’s climb. “Lie flat,” he advised, dropping onto his back. “It’ll make things easier.”

  As steadily as it would go, Recker increased the shuttle’s forward velocity. The vessel crept through the water and the currents tugged at his shoulders. He wanted to test his connection to the CX1 module but held off in case the distraction pushed him into a mistake. Overhead, the bay lights went by with an agonising slowness and Recker increased the shuttle’s velocity by the tiniest amount. A little way ahead, the pattern of lights changed and he held the shuttle on course towards that place.

  “Not much further and then we climb again,” he said on the open channel.

  The shaft was huge – much larger than the shuttle – and from where Recker lay, it felt like he was on the floor of the deepest ocean, staring up at lights he would never reach. Thousands of Lavorix floated in the space and he guessed these ones had been dragged inside when the bay doors opened. On a whim, he opened a private channel to Corporal Hendrix.