MissionSRX: Deep Unknown

by Matthew D. White

  ***

  Sergeant Mason took a deep breath and dropped down off a service ladder onto a narrow metal walkway that ran the length of the battleship and was the closest he could get to the roof of the main bay without falling through. He heaved the large Lyran rifle from his shoulder and balanced it on the edge of the handrail while dropping the bipod off the muzzle.

  The weapon was elegant and appeared to be machined from one flowing block of titanium and painted with a splash of drab colors that would have blended into a variety of environments. It was about a meter long, although the main barrel was less than half the length and overtaken by the equally impressive, flowing scope and stock.

  The sergeant unlocked a small hatch and slid it aside to reveal a glaring light from the landing bay. Mason instantly felt he had opened the side of the ship itself and was looking down at Earth below. He had well over a kilometer to the ground should things go poorly. “That’s it. I’m in position.” He radioed down and began scanning the scene below through his new eyes. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Don’t worry about that. You know what we need.” Grant replied from his own dungeon-esque service passage and cracked the hatch above his head. As a sliver of light shone through, he flashed Scott a thumbs-up from his position a few hundred meters to his left. “All set.”

  Scott stared at the strange weapon in his hands and then down to the stack of others he had just lined up along the wall. “Same here. One of these had better work.”

  “They will. I’m first!” Grant added as he peeked above the floor and set his alien rifle level on the deck. The nearest armored Cygnan was a few hundred meters off with its back turned so he put the first shot right at the center of its neck.

  The crack of the rifle took the formation by surprise as the hardened slug punched clear through the alien, dropping it instantly, and ripping through the shuttle’s skin beyond. They didn’t stop to look for the source but instead dove to the ground and scrambled to clear the open ground. As the last one jumped the pile of scrap, Grant’s rifle recharged and he tagged the second with a round through their ramshackle concealment. More metal bits went flying.

  “Two down.” Grant reported and pulled the rifle back before the arrival of a rising storm of weapon flashes from the now-entrenched alien squad. “Shit!” he exclaimed and let himself fall backwards to the ground as a torrent of heavy weapons fire sliced into the bay floor, denting and puncturing the thick metal plating.

  “What the hell is that?” Scott asked the group, not wanting to stick his head anywhere close to the hatch above.

  “They’ve each got a pair of cannons on their suits. Hold on.” Mason announced, scanning the formation from his perch. “Keep your heads down! They’re pulling out something bigger. Large enough to be crew-served and mounted.”

  “Can you disable it?”

  “I think so.”

  “Take the shot, hit a second if you can and then get the hell out of the way!”

  Mason squinted through the eyepiece and put a slug through the weapon’s breach as its operator attempted to sight it down at Grant’s position. It exploded in a shower of sparks and the operator fell back off its feet and the sergeant put a second round in its center of mass before wrenching his weapon back and rolling sideways for cover.

  Like Grant’s situation, he barely missed the onslaught of random fire which shredded the wall, ceiling and platform without discrimination. “Wow they’re pissed!” he grumbled as he low-crawled farther back down the metal walkway. A small rocket streaked in only meters away, tearing the small passage apart and slamming Mason with an organ-crushing shockwave. “Oh, shoot those gaddamn things!” he said, coughing up chunks of bloody matter into his respirator.

  “Mr. Ryan, you’re up!”

  Scott heard the words and took another deep breath, his heart already trying to leap from his throat. Like the commander, he leapt up and dropped the alien rifle on the deck and took a shot at the nearest one that exposed its head over the burned-out shuttles. It evaporated as he pulled the trigger into a fine, bloody fog and Scott looked for his follow-up target. He dropped the control again to no effect.

  He looked down and saw the battery was still recharging. Scott cursed, snapping his head between the weapon and the enemy position, hoping for the device to cycle quicker. The alien found him first, sending a heavy round back towards his hatch.

  It bit the ground a meter before him and with a concussive blast, sent his rifle spinning from his hands. Scott flinched in terror as he fell backwards, straight through to the floor of the passage. He only caught the briefest glimpse of his attacker exploding in a ball of fire that illuminated the entire space. He searched the space but the commander was nowhere to be seen, having already exposed himself on the battlefield.

  “That’s it! Fire at will!” Grant shouted, sprinting hard to the right with a large Lyran weapon, waiting for it to recharge. He heard the snap of Mason’s rifle from the corner of the roof and dove for the limited cover of the nearest shuttle. A remaining Cygnan jumped from the far side, knocking the commander from his feet and kicking him hard in the side as it fumbled to reload its main weapon.

  A final shot from the ground sent a metal shard slicing through the manufactured air and severed the creature’s throat. The last upwell of blood surged out as it crumpled to the ground.

  Grant’s eyes were still wide as he groped for his missing weapon and scanned the barricade for more of the aliens. From the corner of his eye, he could see Scott standing at the edge of the deck, weapon raised, likewise staring along the shuttle’s profile.

  “All clear!” Mason called from above, “That was the last of them!”

  Scott heard the words while he was still frozen in place, waiting for another surprise. The alien railgun in his hands recharged, silently waiting as the operator carefully watched the last of the smoke rise from the alien shuttles, scanning for any secondary movements. Off in the corner, Grant rolled back to his feet and retrieved the heavy Lyran rifle he had chosen from the rack. Rifle nothing, it had the stopping power of a mid-grade artillery cannon.

  “Are you sure?” Grant called back.

  “Yeah, there’s nothing moving down there.”

  “I think that’s it.” Grant remarked with relief, returning to the shot-up service hatch. “Have Sergeant Allen deploy patrols to check for any other survivors. Mason, meet us on the bridge!” He ordered and pointed Scott’s way. “Good show. Once we get this cleared up we’ll need to release the lockdown too.”

  Once they cleared the service passage, the pair returned to their tram and took it back to the ship’s center before exchanging their ride for the elevator. Scott’s muscles were tensed for the duration of the trip, half waiting for the alien ride to lose power like the last.

  21

  By the time they reached the bridge, Sergeant Mason was already waiting, trying not to process Major Kael’s mangled corpse still lying front and center. “What happened to him?” he asked rhetorically as the others entered.

  “I don’t know but we’re going to find out.” Grant replied and approached the command station.

  Scott picked up the shattered bits of the small Cygnan obelisk and turned them about. “Some sort of a virus…”

  “What was that?” Mason interjected.

  “This thing must have dropped a malicious signal into the ship to gain control. Either the same thing happened to Kael or he was actively corrupted.” Scott looked back at Mason, “Those are the only options.”

  “We’re clear outside too.” Grant mentioned while still tapping his hand at the command screen. “Scott, can you get us a better estimate than that?”

  Glancing between the handful of smashed parts and the operator stations, Scott nodded, “Maybe. I might be able to see what’s in the log. The probe knew it was being compromised and launched a second ahead of time.” He took a seat to the left and hammered in a few commands. “See, there it is.” He pointed to a waveform o
verriding a compressed spectrum of onboard signals. “It’s not a lot, but whatever was in there was enough to hijack the Patriot’s system and feed it false commands.”

  “What if you had more data?”

  “Of course that’d help but…” Scott turned back towards the commander, his voice trailing off.

  “Can you get some from there?” Grant pointed out the leading window at a long, mangled glob of metal from the Cygnan dreadnought. “If we can dig up another scanner?”

  Scott’s mind instantly turned to fear but it subsided before he could object. “Maybe. Can we get a drop ship to bring us closer?”

  “I can.” Grant confirmed, “Mason, help me find a scanner. Scott, unlock the doors and meet us in the landing bay. I’ll bring a shuttle and drop it by the rear wall.”

  ***

  “What’s on the new probe?” Fox asked Lieutenant Wright from his position on the Flagstaff’s bridge. It was always the same, no sooner had he returned from the surface before they had another bombshell waiting for him.

  “Sir, it’s a message from Rans’ Patriot. Major Kael was compromised and drove the ship into deep space as the boarding team reached it. They encountered another Cygnan ship, which attempted to overtake them but the threat has been neutralized. Parks’ ship hasn’t checked in yet from the initial rendezvous. Scott Ryan gave us their updated position and requested immediate medical and armed assistance, plus a relief crew to pilot Rans’ ship.”

  “Why relief for Rans?”

  “He says she was wounded in the attack and her pilot is K.I.A.”

  Fox clenched his fists to the point of making his knuckles pop. “How soon can we get there?” he asked his pilot beside him.

  “Four hours for the Patriots, seven for us.”

  The speed was beginning to be a drag on the operation. “Shoot probes to Sebastian and Parks. We’ll rally at Commander Grant’s current position. Lieutenant Wright, I need another option for the Flagstaff.”

  ***

  Inside the shuttle, Grant checked over the various systems after his brief sortie around the landing bay. The main doors were open to space outside. Mason had arrived and was waiting on the ground with a few more cases of ammunition and two soldiers carrying a scanner between them. Scott burst through the door with renewed energy after breaking their lockdown of questionable outcome.

  “All set!” Mason announced as he boarded and dropped his armload of equipment on a side-facing jump seat. His soldiers followed quickly alongside the engineer and strapped their Lyran payload to the floor with a pair of straps attached to the perforated metal surface. “Cleared hot!” he radioed forward.

  Grant closed the rear hatch and lifted off, instantly feeling the increased mass of the overweight and underpowered shuttle fight against his controls. He instantly missed his fighter and silently wished it had the capacity for such operations.

  “Listen up,” he reminded them, “We’ve got a target that’s unshielded and likely without atmosphere or gravity. I’m not expecting any survivors but don’t let your guard down.”

  Scott double-checked the seam on his helmet and looked between Sergeant Mason and the package on the ground.

  “Don’t worry about it,” the sergeant reassured him, “we’ve got your back, just get done what you need to get done.”

  “Thanks.” He replied, feeling the Patriot’s gravity dissipate.

  “We’re almost there. Looking for a place to land. It’s slim down there.”

  The rear door opened silently and with a brief rush as the ship’s internal air escaped into space. Scott heard a faint hiss in his radio but otherwise silence. He watched Mason strap himself into an anchor point and lean far out of the hatch to scan the landscape below.

  “I think we’ve got something beneath us, maybe twenty meters left, about a quarter of the way back.”

  Grant checked his monitor. “I’ve got it. Seems like a ruptured port.” He swung the shuttle to the side. “Hold on, I’ll bring us down.”

  Scott released the belt across his chest and let himself float to the door, catching a similar anchor at the edge. Mason released his safety wire and jumped straight from the shuttle across the vacuum to the Cygnan ship below. The sergeant impacted the hatch, adjusted his footing and heaved it open.

  “This’ll work. It’s still somewhat intact. Get the box down here.”

  The soldiers complied and hopped over along with Scott, who realized too late that he couldn’t control himself as he sailed across the gap and slammed hard and fast against the battleship’s skin. Even with the help of his armor, his teeth still felt the hit. Before he floated off, Mason grabbed the strap on his rifle and pulled him within the relative safety of the crumbling structure.

  Both soldiers were already inside, the lights from their weapons illuminating deeper down the cramped passage in gently widening cones. There was no skin on the wall or lights above. Instead to every side were the stamped metal ribs of the ship’s frame, intermixed with cables and pipes of various sizes. All of the surfaces appeared to be coated with dark pitch or roofing tar that absorbed the limited light the team brought along. An interesting effect, but Scott couldn’t tell if it was from the fire or if it was the normal state onboard the alien ship.

  The silence sans an atmosphere was deafening. Scott reached the scanner, spun weightlessly and wedged himself between the box and the ship’s frame. A flash erupted from the lead soldier at the first corner ahead.

  “Body: all clear,” came the simple response through the radio.

  Scott tried to ignore the exchange and popped the cover on the package and ran the same setup that he had before. A dim outline of the structure appeared on the screen, torn and twisted like a mangled dragon’s tail. He didn’t care as much about the station, all he cared about was the network.

  The system picked up an intermittent signal along with the frequency-hopping band used by their radios. It was barely above the noise floor, but he could instantly tell it was artificial. “I’ve got something here.” Scott announced and peeked down the shaft. “It’s weak; I think we’ll need to go deeper to collect it.”

  “It’s your call,” came Mason’s response, “Echo team, push forward but don’t take any chances. Scott, tell them how far to go. I’ll keep watch back here.”

  “Thanks.” Scott replied and pulled the floating case down the passage behind him, referencing the newly-developed schematic. “Take the next left and the second right, that’ll take us to the center of the wreck.”

  The soldiers complied and made their way to the next passage. Scott pushed the deceased Cygnan corpse aside, ignoring the trail of blood floating freely from its head and continued along. He checked his system again and saw the signal spike had doubled in power. “Get us another fifty meters forward and I should be able to collect what we need.”

  Scott reoriented himself and pushed the weightless case down the center and floated along behind it, effortlessly gliding past the narrow bulkheads. He couldn’t help but think this was how a submariner lived, albeit with gravity and a fraction of the danger of a can in deep space. Stopping the box, he checked the screen again. “That’s it. The scanner will need a few minutes to collect and we can check out.”

  “Tell it to hurry up. This is some bullshit in here.” came the response.

  “You’re telling me.” Scott agreed, drumming his fingers on the side of the case while anxiously checking every crevice around him, “Hell can take this place right back where it came from.”

  “What the!” came the exclamation from the leading soldier followed by the flashes of a concise burst of rifle fire.

  “Live one?” Mason asked as the smoke cleared.

  “No, dead like the other but wedged in the corner right next to me. I didn’t see it.” The soldier replied and pushed the perforated corpse aside, swinging the now-unpowered, unsealed hatch aside to check the passageway beyond. “All clear up here.”

  “The hell did you just do?” Grant snapped from t
he shuttle above. “A plasma jet just shot out of your side!”

  “Dammit I must have hit it.” The lead soldier grumbled, “This ship can’t take nothing at all.”

  “I’m not surprised, after having no shields and getting torched from the inside out. Hurry the hell up, it’s pushing the arm of the ship back into the debris field!”

  The soldiers looked between each other and back towards the exit.

  “How long do we have?” Mason asked from the entrance.

  “Maybe thirty, forty seconds but you’re picking up speed. Get out! I’m not going to be able to stop it.” Grant replied, watching the long, metal structure accelerate like a long, falling tree.

  “Go on! Get out of here!” Scott ordered the team while motioning them back. “I’ll follow you! It’s just about ready.” They complied and squeezed by the engineer in the cramped passage. From beneath his feet hooked against the frame, he felt a groaning, creaking vibration make its way through the structure. At least he hoped the job was almost complete.

  As the soldiers disappeared around the corner, Scott carefully followed along, checking the package every second to make sure it still retained its signal. He reached the first bend, maneuvered the case and pushed it along, still floating silently to the side.

  A protrusion of the ship hit first, sending the small wisp of metal passages spinning out of control. Inside, the metal ribs buckled and slipped hard to the side, slamming Scott against the wall. He looked up and saw the hatch only meters above his head with Sergeant Mason still waiting at the door, waving and shouting his name. To his rear, the next hit crumpled the lower end of the corridor like an empty aluminum can.

  “Scott! Come on! Get out of there!” Grant shouted again from his elevated position. “You’ve about to take another hit.