Slave Mind

by Rob Dearsley

  “Last one.” He slipped the explosive into a waiting, shockproof pack.

  More explosions racked the ship. Something big had gotten through the Montgomery’s defence screens. The lights and gravity flickered, pulling Arland in three directions at once. She grabbed the missile for support.

  Her com flickered into life. “Arland, damn it. Answer.” The signal was almost lost to static.

  “Here, sir.”

  Dannage’s voice filtered through the terrible connection. “You need to get out of there. The ship’s not going to last long.”

  She looked around. Grayson and his Marines checked each other’s gear before starting for the shuttle.

  “We’re working on it, sir.”

  No reply.

  “Sir? Captain?” Arland looked over at Grayson, who shrugged in response.

  More, distant explosions vibrated through the ship and main power went out, plunging them into darkness. After a second, the low-level emergency lights came up, bathing the room in a dull blue glow.

  Arland and Simon sprinted after the Marines and through the darkened corridors. The forward shuttle dock was just around the next bend. According to Niels, a troop transport was ready to go.

  Niels was true to his word. The hunched form of the troop shuttle sat in the small hanger, the back ramp open, waiting for them. The pilot closed an inspection hatch and, with a wave, jogged up the rear ramp. Arland and Grayson waved back as the small group jogged toward the shuttle.

  Fire ripped through the hanger deck, engulfing the shuttle. The blast hit Arland like a sledgehammer, her vision darkened as she sailed backwards.

  The jarring impact of landing knocked Arland back to full consciousness, pain shooting down her arm. Alarms whumped and emergency shutters clattered down over the hanger entrance.

  Arland rolled onto her back and looked across the bay. The shuttle was gone. One of the Terran rounds must have hit it square on – a damn lucky shot. Only burning, twisted metal remained.

  “Damn.” Simon pulled her up.

  Around them, Grayson and his Marines were already back on their feet. A couple advanced on the wreckage, but were forced back by the intense heat.

  “What do we do now?” one of the Marines asked

  Simon joined in, “Where’s the nearest shuttle bay?”

  “Won’t matter, bulkheads are locked,” another Marine supplied.

  Grayson looked around, his eyes falling on Simon. “You went into Obsidian IV, didn’t you?”

  Simon nodded. “Was part of the drop team. But I don’t see what… Oh no. No. That’s just… That’s. Just, no.”

  Grayson smiled. “Not like we have a better plan. And besides, it wouldn’t even be a drop. We’d be jumping between two ships.”

  “One of which wants to kill us,” Simon replied.

  “Give me another option.” Grayson pulled a reinforced locker open and tossed a pair of helmets to Arland and Simon. “Feels like the ship’s coming apart. Move it. We’ll use one of the warheads to blow the shutter. Sanders, make it happen.” A deep groaning from the ship punctuated his words.

  Arland knew the sound, remembered it from the Pavel, the space frame was giving out. It urged her to work faster. Grayson helped her pull the space suit on. It wasn’t the heavily armoured hard-shell the Marines had, but it was a military design with an armoured helmet and strap-on chest plate.

  One of the Marines pulled weapons from an emergency locker and started passing them out. Arland ended up with a high-powered rifle strapped across her back. It was a sniper’s weapon, but just about short enough to use at closer range.

  Grayson turned to Simon. “How do we do this?”

  “Get to the back of the bay. We’ll use the decompression to blow us out and hope to hells we’re going in the right direction.”

  Arland dropped into a sprinter’s crouch between Simon and Grayson. Tension thrummed through her. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead. She ignored them, focusing on the door, the improvised breach charge clamped to its centre.

  “Remember, keep your arms and legs in.” Simon’s voice filtered through her helmet’s speakers.

  Arland closed her eyes.

  Grayson was next. “Three, two, one.”

  Even through her closed lids, the flash of the bomb was blinding. The rush of air pulled her from her feet, sending her tumbling forward.

  Arland’s eyes snapped open, the emergency shutter was almost completely gone, its edges still white not. Her Zero-G training kicked in and she threw her arms forward, straightening her legs.

  The rushing of air dropped away, and she was in space.

  Arland looked to her right, her breath catching at the sight. The massive bulks of the Montgomery and the X-ship framed her view of the now silent battle. Drones and SDF fighters danced, while the larger ships continued to spit fire at each other.

  Below the main battle, the blunt arrowhead of the Folly rested. What was going on? Why wasn’t the captain going evasive?

  She thumbed the suit’s com onto the Folly’s default channel. “Arland to Folly? Captain?”

  Luc answered, “Arland? Stars, it’s good to hear from you, girl. Where are you?”

  “We’re heading over to the Terran ship. What’s going on?”

  “Heading over?” Luc paused. “Wait. I see you. Stars, I thought the captain’s plan was crazy.”

  The mention of the captain worried Arland. “What plan?”

  “Cap’n’s arguin’ with the X-ship. Trying to distract it, give you a chance to get the drop on it.”

  That was crazy. But, the rate of fire from the X-ship had dropped off. “Tell him to keep it up. We still need to get in there and set the explosives.”

  “You two are crazy as each other. Stars. I’ll tell the cap’n.”

  Around Arland, the SDF and Terran forces clashed in silent symphony.

  Grayson’s voice broke her reverie. “Eyes front.”

  She looked up to see the scarred hull of the X-ship rushing toward her.

  Even bracing for it, the impact was bone jarring. She bounced once and scrabbled for a handhold on the ancient hull.

  Her hands fumbled on an access hatch, the tips of her fingers hooking the release lever. It was enough to arrest her momentum.

  Steadying her breathing, Arland pulled herself into the hull, hoping the old catch would stay rusted in place. Finally, her boots touched down on the hull, and a touch to the controls at her thigh activated the suit’s built-in mag-boots.

  The others got their feet beneath them and started scouting around for a way in. Arland pulled her rifle from her back and tethered it to her suit’s chest plate. It wouldn’t do to drop the thing and have it spin off into orbit.

  Just off to Arland’s right, a particularly big rent split the hull. It looked large enough to fit a small fighter through. It wasn’t something the SDF would have managed.

  Arland keyed her squad com open. “Guys. Over here.”

  Simon joined her, and the pair of them clambered down into the compartment. There wasn’t enough of the interior left to guess what the room would have been used for. They both advanced on the bulkhead door on the far side of the room.

  “What you got?” Grayson clambered down to join them, the rest of the squad on his heels.

  “Looks like a good way in.” Arland gestured to the security door. “One of you guys got a door jack?”

  Another Marine pulled a jack from his equipment pack. “Won’t that just vent this compartment?”

  Arland looked up. “We do what I did when the Folly was trapped on one of their ships. Breach and vent all the compartments in sequence. The vacuum won’t stop the Turned, but it slows them down.”

  “Slows us down, too,” Grayson added. “Not that we have any better options. Do it, Sandy.”

  While Sandy and one of the other Marines worked the jack into the door, Arland switched her com back to the Folly. “Luc, we’re heading into the ship. We’ll move as fast as we can. Just tell
the captain to keep it distracted. And tell him, thanks. Thanks for everything.”

  “We’ll see you on the far side. Cap’n’s doing all he can.”

  “Copy that.” Arland switched back to the squad channel.

  The door cracked exuding a small gale. Once it had passed, the Marines finished prying the door open wide enough for them to get through. Arland, her breathing steady and even, focused on the growing gap. Ready, should one of the Turned jump them.

  Grayson led through the door, Simon right behind him. Arland had to respect a commander who led from the front. She brought up the rear.

  The Marines flicked on their armour’s lights, the bright beams piercing the darkness. Pools of light multiplied, but so much of the space was still lost to darkness. Arland wished for the digital scope of her sniper rifle, or any sort of low light enhancement.

  The bulkhead slammed shut behind them.

  Crap. Arland spun, scanning the now nearly complete darkness for any signs of trouble.

  “We’re not going back out that way.” Simon moved to her side, his footsteps punctuated by the snick of the mag-boots locking and unlocking.

  “Only way is forward.” Grayson moved off, his suit lights aiming down the long hallway. “We need to head aft.”

  Arland moved forward, her own boots snicking with each footstep. Frowning, she stopped. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Grayson asked.

  “She’s right, sir,” Sandy added. “I can hear, so we’ve got pressure.” He cracked a pair of air testers, waving them in front of him until they turned green. “Air looks good.”

  Grayson cracked his helmet and sniffed. “Stale, but otherwise.”

  Arland followed the rest of the squad in raising her visor. The slight scent of dust and the tang of ozone filled her nose.

  ◊◊

  “She is mine.” Hale’s twisted voice filled the small bridge.

  Even though she was shorter than him when kneeling, Dannage felt like Hale was looking down at him. Although, it wasn’t Hale any more, was it? That damn X-ship was going to pay. Arland would see to it that the ship would get blown to hell.

  “You think you can stop us?” it asked, its voice mocking.

  “I know we’re going to end you.” Dannage smiled at the thought.

  “Your friends will die. I can feel them. I will burn you all.”

  Damn it, damn it all to hell. He’d bluffed as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough. He was played out. But Arland was still over there, fighting to save them. Dannage was not going to lose her. Not again.

  He leaned in close, pressing the gun into Hale’s forehead. “Touch my friends and I’ll kill her.”

  Hale’s face sneered up at him. “You cannot stop us.”

  Dannage glanced over at the doc, who was hovering just behind Hale, hypodermic ready. “I’m coming for you.” He pulled the trigger.

  Dannage rose, brushing off his trousers and turned to the front of the bridge. “Luc, get on to Arland and warn her. Jax, I need something that will explode.”

  Outside, a swarm of Terran drone ships charged them.

  “Well, Cap, now it really wants to kill us. What's your plan?”

  He had a vague idea of blowing something up. His eyes fell on Hale, sprawled between the aft consoles. He remembered her story.

  We firebombed the Core…

  Dannage thumbed the com-link to engineering open, as he pulled the Folly into a sharp dive away from the drone ships. “Jax, can we make firebombs?”

  Jax voice filtered through the speakers. “I can bleed flue from backup tanks. We’ve got old canisters that we can use for casings. We’ll just need some sort of detonator. Zinc maybe. I think I have some.”

  The Folly whipped through a tight corkscrew as tracer fire streaked past. Dannage pulled her into a sharp turn, putting the wreck of an SDF gunship between them and the drones.

  “Jax, speak to the Marines, they might have some explosives with them.”

  A flight of SDF fighters swung in as the drones came around the wreckage. Dannage could have whooped at the sight of the friendly ships. The fighters took the element of surprise and ran with it. Tracer fire and even a couple of short-range missiles ripped into the drone formation. Most of the drones scattered with little if any damage.

  Dannage gunned the engines and the Folly shot through the fighter formation, swinging around toward the X-ship.

  The Folly bucked under the Terran weapon’s fire.

  Damn it. Dannage glanced around to check the bridge before flicking the aft views onto the HUD. A half a dozen Terran drones were tailing them in an impossibly tight formation.

  Proximity alarms buzzed.

  Cursing, he pulled the ship in a tight right. Damn, he’d not seen the tumbling wreckage. He goosed the engines back the other way and the Folly twisted almost back on itself. Several thumps reverberated through the deck as they bounced along the fragment of hull plating.

  “Well, there goes the high gain antenna.” Jax's voice filled the compartment.

  The drones swarmed around the debris, still coming for them.

  Dannage pulled hard on the controls, putting the Folly into a complex series of evasive manoeuvres as tracers from the drones whipped past, close enough to make the hull vibrate. The drones were impossibly nimble and accurate. There was no way he could keep ahead of them for much longer. He dodged to the right a second too late, and tracer fire clipped one of the main engines. He felt the ship pull sluggishly to the left as their speed bled off.

  Stars damn it. He punched the com-link to engineering open. “Jax, give me something.”

  “—damn, stupid bypass system. I’m working on it,” came the tinny reply.

  “Work faster!” He pulled on the heavy controls, bringing the ship around into a slow, wide turn. She was moving at least, but it felt like trying to fly through porridge. The drones bore down on them, lining up the shot. A callout on the HUD scrolled down the distance until the drones were in optimum firing range. The machine mind driving them could probably have made the shot already, but apparently wasn’t taking any chanced.

  SDF tracer fire ripped through the drones, pinging off their armour and sending two of them into uncontrolled spirals. The rest broke away, spinning off on evasive vectors with only minor damage, as the wing of SDF fighters screamed through a barrage of flack fire toward the Folly.

  “Folly, this is flight five-seven. Fall in with us.”

  At the same moment, the controls lightened, and the Folly surged back up to full power.

  “Right,” Jax said over the com. “She’s working again. But watch out, the patch job isn’t going to like being knocked around.”

  Dannage fired the engines, falling into the centre point of the fighter formation. The remaining drones came around for another pass. The fighters peeled off, their weapons sending out streams of tracer fire. The drones went evasive, easily dodging the SDF weapons before returning fire with their own, turning two of the SDF fighters into fireballs.

  The remainder of the fighters tightened their formation, falling back to screen the Folly.

  “Captain, there.” Hale, still looking the worse for wear, pointed to an open flight bay on the X-ship’s aft quarter. “While he was in my head I was able to mess with some of his systems. Thanks for bringing me back.”

  He glanced up at her, glad she was okay and herself again. “Sorry about the gun.” His gaze flicked to the handgun on the dash.

  “At least it wasn’t loaded.” She clapped a hand on his shoulder. “And the blockers Vaughn gave me should last a while.”

  “Stars willing, you’ll never have to hear his voice again.” Dannage dodged a barrage of shells from the X-ship and made for the open bay.

  ◊◊

  At first, Arland and the Marines’ journey through the X-ship was uneventful. It hadn’t been long before they got into a section with normal gravity, and without the need to use mag-boots they made much quicker progress.

/>   Grayson hunkered down at a crossway, panning his armour lights back and forth. “Move up.”

  Arland stayed toward the back, keeping her rifle ready.

  A piercing, warbling scream echoed down the corridor, sending a shiver down Arland’s spine. The old wound on her abdomen ached in sympathy with the cry. Around her, the Marines shifted nervously.

  Things were going to get really ugly, really fast. “Armour piercing rounds and headshots. These things move fast,” she called to the Marines. The armoured figures shifted again, and she felt their eyes on her.

  Grayson asked, “They really that bad?”

  “They’re worse.” Arland took her turn to cross the intersection. As she did so, another warbling screech echoed down the hallway, sending the Marine’s armour lights bobbing as they searched for a target.

  Sandy was the last to cross the intersection, moving in a low crouch. One second he was running toward them, the next he was gone in a blur of orange, the Turned’s scream echoing down the hallway. Grayson and a couple of the others sent shots after it, but it was far too late. Sandy was lost into the darkness. Damn it.

  More screams echoed.

  Simon broke the silence. “We need to keep moving.”

  Grayson nodded and started off down the corridor again. More screams followed them.

  “Contact rear!” The Marines in back started firing.

  Arland spun, bringing her rifle up. A pair of Turned streaked toward them. The Marine’s fire slammed into the Turned’s chests, the creatures stumbling and slowing.

  Arland lined up her shot, let out her breath and pulled the trigger. The side of the creature’s flared head exploded, the creature spinning and dropping. The second Turned slammed into the Marines, the three of them going down in a sprawl, a roar of gunfire and a spray of gore. One of the men had a shockproof pack slung across his back. Damn. She started for the dead Marines.

  Another scream whipped Arland’s attention up.

  “Keep moving!” Grayson grabbed her shoulder and pulled her along.

  After a couple of paces, Arland broke into a run, Grayson and Simon beside her. More screams echoed down the hallway.

  Arland’s foot struck the deck and she tumbled upward. For a second, she didn’t know which way was up. Grey-brown metal walls twirled around her as she spun in the sudden freefall. Gravity was out, damn it.