by Paul Teague
“Are you seeing this, Kearney? Mason?” said Ten. “These things look like tricky devils.”
The Sentinel Mines were small, jet-black metallic spheres. They were dotted with propulsion vents and sensor arrays, but the engine mechanics and power source weren’t immediately obvious. Each had two red lights at the front, and it was these that gave them their demonic appearance. All nine remaining mines had clustered together on the perimeter, sitting in a holding pattern and waiting to seek their next target.
“Where do you think they came from?” Hunter asked. “Do you reckon they were just waiting there for us? Or do you think there's some kind of mine-laying ship out here?”
“No idea,” said Ten. “Doesn’t matter. Are you ready to tether and eject?”
Hunter and Ten checked their gear was all securely attached to their power armour. Ten would have been happier if they'd had SEVs, but in truth, if the mines went active, they weren't likely to have time to respond.
The engineering suits were ancient, much older models than either Ten or Hunter were used to, but so similar that using them wasn't a problem. They weren’t fast or nimble, but engineering suits were designed to let wearers spend hours in space.
Fernandez had insisted they wear nappies in case the mine disposal task took a long time. Zero-G toilet facilities weren’t a lot of fun, but nobody wanted fluids floating around inside their suit. The armour was less snug than the combat power armour suits normally used by the Royal Marines, but they were still pretty comfortable.
Attached to their power armour were accessory belts, with additional tools for bomb disposal in case the mines were booby-trapped. They were also armed with personal defence weapons. Each had an assault carbine and a pistol, both specially designed for ship-boarding actions and vacuum operation.
“There’s no fucking way I’m going out there again without being properly tooled-up,” Ten had said before they left Vengeance, and nobody had been inclined to make an argument of it. The mass of the weapons wasn't going to impact the flight time of the engineering suits significantly, and if a man was about to try and defuse anti-starship mines, he was probably entitled to a comfort blanket.
“Right,” said Hunter, readying himself to get stuck in. “Let’s take a look at these things. Fernandez wants us to bring one in, if we can work out how to disarm them. I told him not to hold his breath.”
The troopers manoeuvred themselves to the closest Sentinel Mines, having already attached themselves to each other with a standard high-tensile cable a few metres long. In the event of an emergency, they could pull in to each other, or use quick-release mechanisms to separate.
Hunter placed his hand on the nearest sphere and began to rotate it confidently. His cybernetic arm was bare below the elbow. His customised suit ended and the ring seal clamped directly to the arm, rather than the forearm section the power armour usually held. If the suits hadn’t been modular, his arm would have been largely useless.
“Hellfire, Hunter, careful,” said Ten. “If we’re going to be tethered together, I’d appreciate a heads-up before you grab the explosive devices.”
“It’s fine, Ten, relax. These things detonate on impact, they’re not movement sensitive. They wouldn’t have been able to chase us around like that if they were.”
Hunter pointed to an area dotted with small pins.
“That’s what triggers it.” Hunter pointed towards the device. “The moment those come in contact with your Raptor, it’s BANG! Seriously old-school, none of this messing around with proximity sensors or vision systems. Touch and go.”
“I get it, so no touching the pins. How come these things don’t just float away in space? I’ve never seen something like this before.”
“Engine ports,” said Hunter, pointing at the mine again. “My guess is some kind of ion-drive based stabilisation technology, with built-in high-efficiency solar panels. It’s neat, in something this small. The thrusters are used for target pursuit, but general repositioning is slow; it doesn't matter if it takes hours. These things just sit there, gathering sunlight and moving slowly to their positions. You only need to refuel them in the rare instances that they've pursued a ship but not detonated. Definitely human tech.”
“Good to know,” muttered Ten as he leaned in to take a closer look. Hunter was right. It was the same as the Guardian devices. Below the two red lights was the writing Armed When Lit.
“More English,” muttered Ten. “Not good.”
“I want you to hold this thing while I work some magic with my CyberPort,” said Hunter.
“Is that what you call that thing? A CyberPort?”
“Yup. Cost me an arm, and Sol put a stop to them before they went mass production.”
“You got any more? Asking for a friend.”
“That’s why Sol are so pissed,” said Hunter, picking up the story. “They got their hands on me, but the others are still out there. They hate these things. Personally, I’d say they’re pretty useful.”
As Ten gripped the Sentinel Mine, Hunter used his cybernetic arm to open up a panel at the back. From his central knuckle, a device appeared that enabled him to insert an instrument into the heart of the sphere’s operational system.
“What’s that doing?” said Ten. “Do you never get confused about what pops out where? I mean, it could get a man in big trouble!”
Hunter grunted, but his concentration didn't waver for a second.
After a moment, his intense concentration eased, and he replied, “My brain and spinal column are linked to an operating system located at the top of my arm. It’s shielded and protected, but it enables me to work at several times normal brain capacity. Only when it’s enabled, mind, it can frazzle your brain if you run it too often or for too long.”
“I’m beginning to see why Sol don’t like these things.” Ten had seen some serious shit in his time, but this beat pretty well everything.
Woodhall had taken it upon himself to join them in one of the SEVs, keen to ensure that the Admiralty wasn’t denied any of the latest data from this mission. It was surprising, because Ten was pretty sure Admiral Stansfield didn't want Woodhall out here. The lieutenant must have got out without actually asking.
Crafty little sod, thought Ten.
“Anything we can do to help, sir?” asked Ten, eyes locked on the mine in front of him.
Woodhall’s voice came over the radios, superior and threatening. “I’m monitoring these messages, Hunter, and you’d do well to remember who pays your wages and provides all this technology that you’re using. I want to make sure you’re recording this operation in line with Admiralty protocols.”
sent Ten.
“We’re all good here,” said Hunter, ignoring Woodhall completely. “I just sent a 3D model of the inner workings of this mine to Vengeance, and I’m now going to deactivate these things.”
“I'm keeping a copy for the historical record, sir,” said Ten, in the hope it might give them a little insurance. He wasn't particularly keen for this jumped-up little tit to distract Hunter from his work and find out what it was like to be vapourised by a mine.
Heedless of his safety or theirs, Woodhall moved his SEV as close to the heart of the action as he was able with his limited piloting skills.
Probably using the magnification systems in his HUD to spy on us, thought Ten, as if we’re operating outside our orders.
Ten strongly suspected Woodhall had been ordered to keep an eye on things and was grasping for any chance to be relevant. It was clear Stansfield wasn't in the least bit interested in cooperating, and who could blame him? Woodhall had already proved to be completely obnoxious, and Ten had only known him a short while.
Woodhall just hovered there, oblivious to the fact he was no more useful than a da
ngerous distraction. He was just trying to score brownie points with his superiors back at the Admiralty by being the first to report any developments. No doubt he was practically wetting his lingerie at the prospect of the work Davies and Fernandez were doing to establish a communication link through the wormhole. If that happened, and a usable signal route back to Earth was established, Woodhall could make reports, and the Admiralty could give new orders to Stansfield.
For Woodhall, that could mean a promotion, especially if it embarrassed Stansfield. The admiral’s return must have ruffled a lot of feathers, especially amongst the officers waiting for an admiral’s position.
Ten sighed to himself. Admiralty politics had never been a good thing, and he’d long wanted to stay far away from it.
“I’ve never seen tech like this before,” said Hunter, interrupting Ten’s pondering. “It’s human, no doubt about that, but it feels different, like someone’s taken something familiar and fiddled with it. Actually, what kind of people would invest so much effort in making a better mine?”
“Yeah, that's a bit of a worry. The Deathless and these guys together, what a bunch of malcontents. I hope we don't hear from any more Lost Ark colonies for a good long while,” Ten replied.
“Seconded. Right, time to see if I've got this right. Hold steady there, cross everything you have,” Hunter said with the typically dark humour of the bomb tech.
“What's the worst that could happen?”
“Deactivation in three, two, one … and it’s safe.”
“You sure?”
“Look at the red lights. Gone.”
To illustrate the fact, Hunter pushed the sphere into Ten’s chest so that the pins were fully depressed. There was a mechanical click, and Ten's head jerked back.
Ten wasn't amused. “Thanks, Hunter, now I have to clean out my suit. Talk about a brown trouser moment.”
“Yeah. If you die, though, you don't lose much. I actually have something to lose, and not just the time since my last backup. I'll lose the arm and everything that goes with it. They're not going to attach it to a new clone for me.”
“You should die more often, Hunter,” said Ten sharply. “Stops you relying on trinkets like that arm, puts everything in perspective. Doesn't matter if you redeploy, dying still hurts.”
“Yeah, right, I'd rather keep my beauty here than go back into a completely organic body,” Hunter said, dismissing Ten’s case. “Let’s get these things finished off, I’m ready to be out of here, and I think I've got the hang of it. Should be much quicker now.”
Carefully, painstakingly, Hunter and Ten worked methodically through the Sentinel Mines, with Woodhall monitoring the entire process and observing that these two arseholes actually worked well together. Finally, they got to the last unit.
“Nice job, Ten and Hunter,” said Woodhall. “I’m going to leave you and check out the radio link progress. Do you need me to take one of those mines back to Vengeance for examination?”
“We’re good, thanks, sir,” said Hunter. “We’ll take one back for stripping and full analysis and leave the other eight out here, disabled.”
“Very well.” Woodhall fired up his SEV and begun his manoeuvre. Ten held the final Sentinel Mine, and Hunter began to open up its casing.
But Woodhall, more familiar with driving a desk than a spacecraft, botched the turn and drifted his SEV over the invisible perimeter as he tried to turn toward Vengeance.
The last Sentinel Mine twitched, and its engine fired, jolting it free from Ten’s grasp. It shot towards Woodhall’s SEV.
“Woodhall, full throttle, now!” shouted Ten.
“What? Why?” blustered Woodhall. Then he twigged and hit the throttle. His SEV shot away.
“Kearney, Mason, we’ve got a problem. Requesting immediate backup for Woodhall,” said Hunter, urgent and suddenly alert again. “Sentinel Mine on Woodhall’s craft.”
“Affirmative,” Kearney responded.
“I see it, on his tail,” said Mason.
Woodhall had now spotted the Sentinel Mine at his rear and was in a state of panic. His craft was at full throttle, but his rudimentary knowledge of the SEV put him in no position to outrun the predator on his tail.
“There’s not enough speed in that SEV. The Sentinel Mine is almost on him,” said Kearney.
“We’re too far out to get in close quarters, we’re going to have to go long-range,” said Mason.
“Do it,” said Ten, unable to help. “It’s his only chance, do it now.”
Hunter and Ten looked on helplessly as the spherical black device shot after Woodhall like a cheetah chasing down its prey. It was far off in the distance, and the two Raptors had only just passed overhead.
“He’s not going to make it,” said Hunter.
“He’ll be a very lucky man if he does,” said Ten , bracing himself for the shit-show if the lieutenant didn’t make it back to Vengeance.
Then, in the distance, there were four flashes and the distinctive purple explosion.
“Sit rep,” came Stansfield’s voice over the radio. They’d been monitoring it all on the bridge of Vengeance, flitting between the two ongoing operations.
“Mason? Kearney?” said Ten.
Woodhall’s voice came over the radio. “I’m fine,” he said, “but I’d appreciate it if I could get a tow back. That was a close-run thing back there.”
“What happened?” said Hunter. “How’d you manage that?”
“Two shots each,” said Mason smugly. “Just ahead of the Sentinel Mine. Then I triggered remote ejection for Woodhall. Two seconds more and he’d have been toast.”
“Good job,” said Ten, “but I think you woke something up out there.”
17
“Are you seeing this, Vengeance?” said Ten.
“Affirmative,” said Stansfield. “Kearney and Mason, get Woodhall out of there. Conway, I need you out with the other two Raptors straight away. Get Marine X and Hunter back to Vengeance as quickly as possible. Flight deck, all attack craft on standby.”
“All types, sir?” the voice of Fernandez came over the radio from the bays.
“Everything we’ve got. I want another ten Raptors out here straight away and twenty HRs on standby for immediate launch.”
“Affirmative, Admiral.”
Stranded in the vastness of open space with their escort, Hunter and Ten watched in awe as, no more than twenty kilometres away, a vast mechanical orb at least the size of Colossus was revealed.
“I guess we know where the Sentinel Mines came from.”
“Yeah, but what the hell is it?” said Ten.
“I don’t even know what to call it, but it's bloody massive, and I don't like the look of it,” said Hunter, scanning the intruder. “Let’s get this bloody mine stowed, then we can get back out here in Raptors and give it a proper look, eh?”
“Oh yeah, sure, I'm looking forward to it,” Ten grumbled.
“Confirming that Woodhall is retrieved and safe,” said Kearney. “I’m joining the defensive screen around Vengeance.”
“Heads up, Ten, Hunter. I'm closing fast on your position, get ready to latch on,” said Conway.
Hunter and Ten waited until Conway’s Raptor drew to a halt; then they powered toward her as fast as their suits would go, dragging the mine between them. They secured it to the hull of Conway's Raptor, then clipped on themselves, and they were off.
Ahead of them, well within the ten-kilometre perimeter line, Vengeance launched ten Raptors to lead the response, with Mason and Kearney amongst them after they’d dropped off Lieutenant Woodhall.
As Conway brought her Raptor to a stop in the docking bay, Ten and Hunter moved away, dragging the mine to the waiting engineering team. Conway was back into space before they had cycled through the airlock.
The bulky engineering suit was far too large for the cockpit of a Raptor, so Ten and Hunter had no choice but to change into the standard combat power armour used by Marines and SBS alike. On their way to the armo
ur lockers, they passed Woodhall, who was strapped to a medical gurney and ranting at two medics who wanted to sedate him. Ten gave them an encouraging thumbs-up, hoping they'd knock him out while whatever was about to happen went on. The last thing he wanted to hear was that pillock moaning about his orders and what the admiral should do.
The enormous sphere was undergoing some kind of activation process, as if the caretaker was walking through a building, firing up the boiler and switching on the lights. And all the while it advanced.
“Vengeance Raptors, Charlie Team have the lead in the field; repeat, Charlie Team have the lead,” said Stansfield. His voice came across the comms channel clearly and calmly, as if the situation was completely normal.
A massive spherical spaceship turns up just as you finish disarming a minefield? No problem. Business as usual for Vengeance and its commanding officer, Ten thought. He could well imagine the palpable air of tension on the bridge as the officers braced themselves for battle and went about the tasks they'd been rigorously trained to implement when they were ordered to action stations.
He and Hunter raced to get into combat power armour. There was no time for bullshit, so they helped each other as they went. On land, an improperly-fitted suit was bad. In vacuum, it was fatal.
“Good to go?” Hunter gave him a two-handed thumbs up.
They headed for the launch bay at a jog and then came to an abrupt stop.
“Er, Conway, where are the Raptors?” said Hunter.
“All Raptors were launched. What, did you think there were spares?”
“We had rather hoped to be out there with you,” said Ten.
“Yeah, well, I need pilots out here, not you two numpties.”
“Hey!” protested Hunter. “Kearney and Mason are out there!”
“Sorry, chaps, you'll have to sit this one out. Smoke us a kipper and all that.” Conway closed the channel.
“The bitch,” said Hunter incredulously. “She’s bloody abandoned us.” There was a noise behind him and he turned to see Ten grabbing weapons from a nearby rack. “What the fuck are you going to do with those?” he asked.