War from a Distant Sun (Savage Stars Book 1)

by Anthony James

  Recker didn’t believe in fate – or told himself he didn’t. At that exact moment, he felt as if the universe was conspiring against him, either to make his life as hard as possible, or maybe just to piss him off.

  With the lives of everyone on the deployment ship measured in seconds, Recker knew what he had to do. He threw the controls to the side. The opening approached and it required perfect timing for Recker to halt the ship directly opposite. Hardly had it come to a stop than he slammed the controls forward.

  The opening was large, and the deployment ship’s hull was slim and tapered. It vanished into the cylinder.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The space within was unlit and Burner worked the sensors to try and give Recker an idea where he was going. The deployment ship had lights, but it wasn’t a good time to be using them. Rather than risking an impact, Recker halted the spaceship the moment he was sure its stern was out of sight.

  “Here you go, sir,” said Burner, his anger having quickly dissipated. “We’re on the far side of the plating, but only just.”

  Shapes and lines defied Recker’s eyes and then his mind pieced much of it together. The deployment ship was about twenty meters beyond the inner wall of the cylinder’s armour and the view from the rear sensors was strange. He couldn’t remember seeing a detonation crater from this side before and it took a split second for his brain to accept the sight.

  As soon as he was content the annihilator wouldn’t be able to detect the deployment ship from above, Recker studied everything else the sensors were showing him. The entry point was about midway along the 6500-metre broken-off top section of the cylinder and it wasn’t quite so empty as he’d first thought from outside.

  The most notable feature was the dark central post, which had a diameter of five hundred metres and appeared to go all the way from the top, to the sheared end of the cylinder. Recker was certain this was more than a structural support, though he wasn’t sure why – the post was smooth and with nothing to indicate it had a different purpose.

  A huge inner structure of 100-metre-diameter, circular beams supported the post, keeping it in place when the outer shell toppled over. These beams were amply spaced for the sixty-metre deployment vessel to fit between, but at the same time they impeded the view.

  “We should go deeper inside,” said Aston. “If that annihilator comes in low, they might see us.”

  Recker nodded and piloted the spaceship vertically, halting when it was a hundred metres above the opening.

  “They’ll have a job spotting us now,” he said. “Unless they press their eye right up against the hole.”

  “Do you have a plan, sir?” asked Eastwood.

  The expectation that he’d have an instant answer to everything came with the promotion to captain and Recker had long ago come to accept the fact.

  “Working on it, Lieutenant.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “In the meantime, put your head through that door and let Sergeant Vance know what’s happening.”

  “The door’s been open all along, sir, and most of the squad’s bunched up in the seats outside. I don’t think they need any extra explanation.”

  “I should’ve guessed,” said Recker, who hadn’t been granted even a moment to look behind since the deployment vessel first came to Oldis. “If anyone would like to offer some input on our situation, I’d appreciate the ideas.”

  “What about keeping our heads down until the annihilator crew gets bored and go somewhere else?” said Burner. “Or is that too easy?”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to come up with a way that would involve taking down a Daklan battleship,” Recker assured him.

  “But he wants more,” said Aston. “I can read it in his face.”

  “I do want more, Commander. And there’s nothing stopping us from doing some exploration while we’re in here.”

  “Some of the missile holes are in the exposed upper surface,” Burner pointed out. “And plenty of others on the opposite side to where we came in. If the annihilator does a thorough close-range scan of this cylinder, we’re going to have a real tough job avoiding detection.”

  “They don’t know we’re here, Lieutenant.” Recker paused for a moment while he thought of something. “As I’ve already told you, I’m becoming increasingly certain these cylinders weren’t constructed by the Daklan,” he said. “Yet they’re hunting for them and I don’t know why.”

  “It’s not likely to be for the good of our health,” said Eastwood.

  “Aren’t you missing the real big thing?” asked Burner. “If the HPA didn’t make the cylinders and the Daklan didn’t, that means there’s a third species of intelligent life. And, since we don’t know what attacked this place, maybe even a fourth species. Unless the third bunch was at war with itself.”

  “It’s a big universe,” said Aston. “Finding other life was only going to be a matter of time.”

  “And that’s as much surprise as you’re going to show?” asked Burner in disbelief.

  Recker shrugged. “I understand the significance, Lieutenant, and if we get out of this situation, I’m sure I’ll feel some major shock. For the moment, the Daklan are interested in this tech and that’s bad news for the HPA.”

  It seemed like Burner was having a hard time grasping it all and for a moment, Recker felt real fear that his sensor officer was on the verge of a breakdown. The imminence of death combined with this potential complete shift in humanity’s place in the universe was difficult for anyone to handle.

  “Screw it,” said Burner. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

  “That’s the spirit,” said Eastwood. “When the captain gets us out of here, we’ll sink a few cold ones back on Earth and talk some shit.”

  Recker was pleased that his crew were pulling themselves together, but less happy at the direction of the conversation.

  “We’ve got the here and now, gentlemen. Let’s not forget how deep we are in the crap.”

  The words seemed to spur on Burner, and he came up with an idea. “The cylinder on Etrol was broadcasting, which means this one likely does the same. That means there’s a comms station somewhere here. If we gain access, we may be able to locate the other nodes on the network.”

  “Good idea, Lieutenant. I remember you detected the likely transmission point on the Etrol cylinder.”

  “Yes, sir. One of three places on the upper four hundred metres.”

  “Think it’s a manned station?” asked Eastwood.

  “Worried about running into aliens?” asked Recker. “Anything living on this cylinder must have been killed in the attack.”

  “Only curious, sir. We’re here for answers and if we turned up a few dead bodies, that would be something.”

  “I’ve had another thought,” said Burner. “If the Daklan control the Etrol cylinder, they’ll have an opportunity to locate the transmission station on that one. And if they carried the whole damn thing to one of their home worlds on that heavy lifter, they’ll have the facilities to copy the technology.”

  “They’re ahead of us, Lieutenant. Nothing we can do to fix that, so let’s do our best to draw level in the race. After that we can think about getting our necks in front.”

  “It doesn’t seem like the Daklan are happy to stop at one cylinder, or however many they’ve got,” said Aston. “They’re still looking because there’s something they want.”

  “I don’t entirely agree with that assessment, Commander. If the cylinder on Etrol was their first discovery – and we’re only guessing that’s true – they won’t have completed a fraction of their investigation into the tech. For all the Daklan know, they’ll benefit from capturing as many of these things as possible. At the very least they’ll want to stop the HPA gaining access.”

  “I won’t argue that, sir. Maybe this isn’t the time to talk about it.”

  “I agree. We should head for the upper section,” said Recker.

  He switched his attention to the sensors again and tried to
figure out a path between the spokes linked to the main inner pillar. Burner was a fast worker and he enhanced the visible missile holes on the feed, adding transparent green cones to represent the predicted visibility arc of the annihilator sensors.

  “These predictions aren’t exact, sir. If the battleship comes near enough and the crew are persistent, it’ll be a struggle to keep out of sight.”

  “You’ll also have to take it slow and steady,” said Eastwood. “Our propulsion will create a detectible resonance.”

  “Anything else to worry about?” asked Recker dryly. He knew the dangers, but this was still a unique situation and he was happy to listen to whatever input came his way.

  The crew didn’t say anything else and Recker flexed his fingers in preparation. Every time he looked at the sensor feed, with the overlaid visibility cones, the route seemed more convoluted, and the spokes prevented him planning too far ahead.

  “Too many overlaps on those cones for my liking,” he said.

  With the utmost care, he increased power to the engines. “Exactly how evident will the resonance be to the Daklan, Lieutenant Eastwood?”

  “There are too many influencing factors for me to give you a definitive answer, sir.”

  “Figures.”

  Eastwood had another shot at giving a worthwhile response. “The enemy will be looking through the missile craters, so I’d suggest you take it extra easy when we’re near one.”

  “I agree,” said Burner.

  Slowly, Recker turned the deployment craft so that its nose was pointing towards the pinnacle of the cylinder and added some figures in his head. The entry point was halfway along this 6500-metre length, meaning the target area was about three thousand metres further. At any other time and in any other place, the distance would be insignificant. Right now, it felt to Recker like he was setting off on a walk from Earth to the sun.

  The propulsion note rose and the spaceship accelerated slowly. Recker’s eyes darted over the sensor feeds.

  The entry point is below and there’s an opening to the left, with a second ahead and above. Too many spokes to avoid the visibility arcs unless I head towards the base and find another route through.

  Recker didn’t change course and the spaceship flew towards the left-hand opening, which was a couple of hundred metres in diameter. Shards of alloy created by the initial blast intruded and he piloted the craft beneath them, doing his best to avoid the visibility arc from the larger opening ahead.

  “Past one,” he said.

  A spoke cut diagonally across his path, forcing Recker to fly deeper into the cylinder.

  “Coming into that upper arc, sir,” said Burner anxiously. “If the Daklan are watching, it’s most likely to be from directly overhead.”

  “I hear you.”

  A slight movement on the joysticks took the spaceship higher towards the curved inner wall, around the visibility arc.

  “Shit, got another opening above and to the right, sir,” said Burner, frantically adjusting the sensors. “Adding an overlay.”

  Recker swore under his breath. The missile breach Burner had detected was more like a ragged tear, as if two warheads had detonated in the same place, and the central pillar had kept it hidden until the deployment vessel came to this part of the interior. The visibility arc was enormous and Recker tried to figure out the best way to stay out of it. Only the spokes and the pillar interrupted the view from the outside.

  “Oh crap, it’s here,” said Burner suddenly.

  An immense, dark grey shape slid across the missile breach, completely covering the opening. The annihilator wasn’t yet stationary and Recker caught a brief glimpse of a square Graler turret before it disappeared from sight.

  “They’re trying to get a sensor lens aimed into the gap!” said Burner in alarm.

  Acting on instinct, Recker rotated the spaceship and flew it sideways as close to one of the spokes as he dared. A moment later, the interior of the cylinder was flooded with a stark white light, which illuminated a huge area and created lines of deep shadows which criss-crossed the outer walls.

  “Lights?” said Eastwood in disbelief. “What the hell do they need light for?”

  “Improved sensor efficiency,” said Burner without looking up from his console. “Cutting it fine, sir,” he continued.

  On the feed, Recker saw the tightness of the margins.

  “Two metres from hitting that spoke,” said Aston.

  “Our hull’s tough enough if I get it wrong, Commander.”

  “It’s the noise I was worried about.”

  “Hold it steady, sir,” said Burner.

  For long moments, Recker did just that, wishing inside that the engines weren’t so damned loud. His grip on the controls was too tight but he didn’t dare loosen up, as if any disturbance in the situation’s balance would result in destruction.

  “How long?” he asked through gritted teeth. The light hadn’t gone anywhere.

  “If they weren’t suspicious, they’d have moved away already, sir,” said Burner.

  “What reason have they got to be suspicious?” Recker demanded. He took a calming breath. “I don’t expect you to answer that, Lieutenant.”

  Abruptly, the light cut out, leaving the surrounding area in darkness once more. The change wasn’t reassuring and Recker was rapidly coming to terms to how tough this short trip was going to be.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Have they moved on?” asked Recker. It was an effort not to talk quietly. The Daklan annihilators had an aura, like they were technologically infallible and capable of picking up a human voice through the hull of the deployment ship.

  “I don’t know, sir,” said Burner. “Their propulsion output is about a million times ours, so even the crappy sensors on this deployment vessel know the annihilator is out there. The hard part is reading the direction of the resonance with it bouncing around the interior.”

  “This is what they pay you for, Lieutenant.”

  “They don’t pay me enough for this, sir. Checking…they’ve moved away!”

  “Heading for a look through a different hole,” said Eastwood.

  “More than likely,” said Recker, piloting the spaceship away from the spoke and towards the large central pillar.

  “I’ve detected two additional openings,” said Burner. “One dead ahead and the other right.”

  Recker guided the ship along the pillar, though he recognized that the cover it offered was illusory.

  “Listen out for that battleship, Lieutenant.”

  “I am sir. The sensors on this deployment craft aren’t meant for this kind of work.”

  “Do what you can.”

  No sooner had the words left Recker’s mouth than Burner shouted a warning, and the annihilator’s stark light came through an opening a thousand metres closer to the cylinder’s pinnacle. The only way for Recker to get the incision craft into cover quickly enough was to give the engines plenty of juice and hurl it towards a spoke three hundred metres away. For a split second, he felt trapped between two bad options – make noise or stay out in the open.

  He held the spaceship in place.

  “We’re not in their visibility arc,” said Burner a second later.

  Recker checked to make sure they weren’t in any other visibility arcs and made a small adjustment to the spaceship’s position. He was given cause to wonder about the nature of luck when a second light came on, shining through another hole about four hundred metres from the spaceship’s position. The illumination was harsh on the central pillar, right on the place Recker had just moved away from.

  “We’re in shadow,” he said.

  “Everything going to plan,” said Burner, his voice artificially light.

  “Absolutely, Lieutenant.”

  This time, the lights stayed on for almost an entire minute, like the Daklan knew the deployment ship was inside and they were hoping their quarry would make a run for it. Recker wasn’t stupid enough to try.

  Even
tually, the lights went out, though the lesson from the incident was already learned; at four thousand metres in length, the Daklan ship was large enough that it could look through more than one opening at the same time.

  “They’re changing position,” said Burner.

  “Let’s do the same,” Recker answered.

  Under his control, the spaceship accelerated along the central pillar. Each slow metre travelled was a victory bought through the endurance of great frustration and Recker found this small journey harder than any he could recall.

  “Tell me what’s waiting for us, Lieutenant Burner,” he said. “We’re about fifteen hundred metres from the pinnacle and I’d like to know what we’re about to run into.”

  “There are too many of these spokes, sir. It’s like they added extra ones at the end.”

  The light returned, though to Recker’s great relief it was far behind his spaceship. It seemed like the entire lower end of the cylinder was turned to shadow-strewn daylight and his hopes faded that the Daklan would make only a cursory inspection and then wait for a heavy lifter to enact a recovery.

  “They’re too interested,” he said.

  “That’s the same feeling I have,” said Aston.

  Recker trusted her instinct – even more so when it coincided with his own. “We’re like rats in a trap,” he said.

  “I don’t remember having much choice about where to hide,” she said. “We took a risk, and this is where we ended up.”

  Recker had no regrets. Like he told his crew, any kind of victory against the Daklan would require sacrifice, risk, and, he admitted, plenty of luck.

  “The enemy are still checking out the opposite end of the cylinder,” said Burner. “I think I can see through these spokes in front of us.”

  “Let’s find out what we’ve got,” said Recker, lifting the deployment spaceship over a place where two of the support beams joined with the central pillar.

  He banked left, around one of the final visibility arcs and suddenly the view became much clearer. At first, Recker felt disappointment – the top section of the cylinder was capped by a solid circle of alloy, making it separate from this central space. Then, his eyes made out a platform which continued around at least part of the perimeter. Lieutenant Burner performed some magic with the sensors and the clarity improved tenfold.