“Looks like a ladder,” he said. “And a ladder has got to lead somewhere.”
Recker stared closely at the feed and thought he could make out the faintest outline of a hatch at the top of the ladder.
“Those rungs are halfway up the inner curve,” he said. “If there’s no life support operating in here, it’s going to be difficult to get that hatch open.”
“The sensors on this craft aren’t capable of detecting the presence of a life support field, sir,” said Burner. “However, there may be more suitable openings - just not visible from here.”
“We’ll soon find out,” said Recker. It was beginning to dawn on him how difficult it would be to explore the upper section of the cylinder if there was no life support stabilisation for the topmost levels. Not just difficult, he corrected himself. Impossible.
“Got something!” said Burner.
Recker saw it too. As the deployment craft emerged through a gap between two spokes, a large shuttle-type vessel came into sight, clamped to what would have originally been the ceiling of the cylinder’s inner space and not far from the central pillar.
“Daklan?” asked Eastwood, stepping closer to see.
Recker’s first question had been the same – that the enemy had somehow got here first. Now he was sure it was otherwise. “It doesn’t look like a Daklan vessel, Lieutenant.”
“There’s no vessel with that hull shape in our databanks, sir,” Aston confirmed. “Either it’s a Daklan design we’ve not encountered, or it was inside this cylinder during the attack that knocked it over.”
“150 metres long and fifty across the beam,” said Recker, staring at the boxy shape and the rounded edges of the clamped spaceship. The craft was pale blue, though he didn’t know if the colour was a property of the construction material or just a smart paint job. One thing was sure – the Daklan only went for grey in their fleet.
“I’d guess it’s designed for heavy lifting,” said Aston.
“That would make sense,” said Eastwood. “It could be a maintenance craft they used to finish off the interior of the cylinder once the outer plating was sealed.”
The sighting of this shuttle hadn’t made Recker forget about the annihilator and he checked to make sure it was still searching the far end of the cylinder. Abruptly, the searchlight went out and he cursed under his breath as he piloted the incision craft beneath a cluster of three spokes.
“There are some unoccupied clamps to the left of that shuttle,” said Burner, pointing at twin rows of dark grey cubes fixed to the ceiling, which looked identical to the HPA’s gravity clamps. “That means…” He took a breath. “Yes - there’s a second shuttle on the floor beneath us.”
Recker glanced at the updated feed. The area below was filled with spokes and two smaller missile breaches were visible on the curve to the left. Poking into sight and mostly obscured by the central pillar, he saw the nose section of a second shuttle.
“Must have broken free when the attack happened,” said Aston. “Or it was already flying around on maintenance duties and the crew got taken by surprise.”
“We’ll never know,” said Recker.
Aston turned so she could get a better view through his visor. “We’re going in?”
He nodded. “There’s a hatch opening in the centre of those clamps. I’m going to find out if they’ll take hold of us when we come close.”
“We might not get free, sir.”
“Do you have another suggestion, Commander? We’re at the mercy of the Daklan and the way I see it, we might as well do what we can while we have an opportunity.”
Aston gave him a smile. “I know, sir. It’s my duty to speak the alternatives.”
“Thank you, Commander. I’m going to dock with the cylinder.”
With the same care as before, Recker took the incision craft towards the ceiling. The uppermost two hundred metres contained no spokes, though the main pillar continued, and he suspected it went to the very top of the cylinder. Even with the view partially obscured, the size of the alien device was more apparent than ever and Recker found himself increasingly worried about the purpose of these cylinders.
Manoeuvring into position wasn’t difficult, since the spaceship wasn’t travelling fast and Recker aimed the tail towards the ground in order that he could line up with the rows of gravity clamps. He drew close to the docked lifter shuttle and even this made the deployment craft appear tiny and frail in comparison.
“I don’t think the annihilator has given up, sir,” said Burner with a new note of worry in his voice.
“Where is it?”
“Nearby, sir. Either above or to our right, on the side where we first approached.”
The light came back again – this time shining through one of the upper missile breaches about five hundred metres from the deployment vessel. Recker got a sense that the beam was shifting, like the battleship was moving slowly back and forward in order to get a better view inside.
“Why don’t they piss off?” said Eastwood with feeling.
“Because they know how to fight and they know that winning takes effort, Lieutenant.”
“I know that, sir. Sometimes it would be nice to run into a lazy crew.” He grunted in anger. “I’m just letting off steam.”
It was understandable in the circumstances and Recker didn’t say anything more about it. Besides, his hands were full with the effort of fine-tuning the deployment craft.
“We’re in position,” he said, looking at the gravity clamps on both sides of the spaceship. Like the shuttle, they seemed huge from close range.
“The clamps haven’t activated,” said Burner. “Maybe there’s a docking computer waiting for a handshake.”
“That’s something we can’t offer, Lieutenant. If this isn’t automatic, we’ve got trouble.”
In truth, Recker had a backup plan involving the portable laser cutter the deployment craft was carrying in its tiny aft storage bay. The cutter could slice open most things in time, but he expected the hatch into the cylinder’s upper levels to be a metre or more thick and that would take some work to get through.
Not only that, Recker wasn’t sure they had a lot of time left to them. The persistence of the battleship had him thinking that the Daklan weren’t going to scan the interior and then hover patiently overhead waiting for a heavy lifter. Deep down, Recker believed the Daklan would launch a shuttle full of soldiers and that shuttle would head straight for the hatch leading to the upper levels. At that point, they’d learn the HPA had got here first and then the shit would really start flying.
The outcome would be death for everyone on the deployment vessel.
He couldn’t tolerate the dark thoughts and he pushed them from his mind. At that point, he felt something tugging the spaceship and he took his hands from the controls. The gravity clamps made no sound, but Recker had docked often enough that he knew they’d taken hold.
“We’re docked,” he said. A green light came up on the forward hatch monitor. “Seems like their hatch just formed a seal with ours.”
Recker turned to see the expressions of the others. They didn’t know what to make of the situation and Lieutenant Eastwood looked more bewildered than anything.
“I guess that means we’re going to send Sergeant Vance and his squad to check out what’s inside the control area of this cylinder,” he said.
“Almost right, Lieutenant,” said Recker. He stood, feeling the tenseness in every muscle.
“You’re going with them?” said Aston.
“Damn right I am. If the hatch opens.”
“It did just open, sir,” said Burner. “The security sensor on our hatch has a view into the exit shaft.”
A tiny secondary screen showed the feed. A ladder led up a lit shaft, which became an open space about ten metres up. Any other details were difficult to make out.
Aston knew when a battle was lost before it started and she didn’t argue Recker’s decision. “I’ll watch this ship, sir, and give w
arning if the Daklan send a shuttle this way. Problem is, we’re clamped, so it won’t exactly be a fair fight if you’re expecting me to shoot them down.”
“I know, Commander. Find out if you can interface with this cylinder’s docking computer, which might offer you control over the clamps. Failing that, the moment you see the enemy, escape through the hatch.”
“Roger that, sir.”
“What about me and Lieutenant Burner?” asked Eastwood.
“I’m not expecting to encounter hostiles inside,” Recker said. “The most likely requirement will be for trained technical personnel, so you’re coming with me. Choose yourselves a rifle each from that cabinet.”
The preparations didn’t take longer than a few seconds. Sergeant Vance and his squad were born ready and they were keen to get off the deployment vessel. Recker could understand their motivation.
“Sergeant Vance, I’m in command of this one,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” said Vance, his voice giving no indication what he thought of the order. “There’s a new squad channel. I sent you an invite.”
Recker accepted the invitation and then brought Eastwood and Burner into the channel. He took a rifle for himself and put a couple of spare magazines into the leg pockets of his spacesuit. It felt like it had been too long since he’d handled a gauss rifle and memories came flooding back – blood, death, and thudding recoil.
Despite the danger, Recker felt a surge of excitement and his breathing deepened. He stepped out of the cockpit into the crowded troop bay. One of the soldiers – Private Hunter Gantry according to the ping from his comms unit – was already clambering up the exit shaft.
“Any time you’re ready, sir,” the man said. “Just give the order.”
“No point in hanging around, soldier. Open that hatch and let’s go see what’s inside this cylinder.”
Chapter Twenty
Space within the deployment vessel was tight and Recker had to wait for the soldiers in front. Luckily, Sergeant Vance and his squad were accustomed to rapid departures and they vanished into the exit hatch with a speed which indicated how aware they were that their lives depended on it.
“We’ve got active life support up here,” said Gantry on the comms.
The discovery was great news and when his turn came, Recker climbed eagerly, his muscles appreciating the honest exercise. With each step upwards, he felt them loosening and his heart rate increased with the burden of his loadout. Above him, the boots of Private Steigers clunked against metal and Recker matched him rung for rung.
The airtight seal showed as a thick line and there was a step formed by the extra width of the cylinder side of the exit shaft. A brief giddiness informed Recker that he was passing from one life support field to another, but he felt no other ill effects. The continuation of the ladder was on the opposite side and he was forced to turn and lean outwards so that he could grab one of the rungs. After that, he half stepped and half pulled himself across, before resuming the climb.
He glanced below to see that Lieutenant Eastwood was struggling to keep up. The military required a certain level of fitness in its warship crews, but it demanded a higher level from its foot soldiers. Recker came from the ground and he refused to let his body decline.
The space he’d seen from the hatch security monitor went all the way around the shaft and had plenty of room to accommodate the entire squad, who were spread around the opening. The ceiling was low and Recker bent his neck so that his suit helmet wouldn’t knock against the solid alloy above him.
“We’ve got two doors, sir,” said Sergeant Vance. “One here and another on the opposite side.”
The doors were grey alloy, a little wider than most doors in the HPA, and bore no markings.
“Any way to get them open or are we going to be hauling up that laser cutter?” asked Recker.
Private Drawl was standing adjacent to the nearest door and he moved aside to reveal a green light on the wall.
“Access panel?” said Recker.
“A button, sir.” Drawl spoke the words slowly, like his speech reflected his name. “Want me to push it?”
Recker turned to see how last man Lieutenant Burner was progressing and found that he was just emerging from the shaft, his cheeks flushed from the exertion.
“Go ahead, Private.”
The squad shifted in readiness. Private Gantry was enormously thickset, and he carried the squad’s MG-12 high-calibre repeater, which he pointed straight at the door. The MG-12s were heavy, but they could sure as hell hold a choke point. Or chew through a watermelon harvest in double-quick time.
With his finger extended in an exaggerated fashion, Drawl poked the button. It must have offered greater resistance than he expected and he had to give it a second try, while a couple of the squad laughed nervously at his failed effort.
Drawl’s second effort was successful, and the door moved slowly into a side recess to reveal steep steps leading upwards. The environmental sensor in Recker’s helmet detected no significant change in atmospheric pressure and reported that the air was breathable for humans, though the temperature was below freezing. The significance of the atmosphere wasn’t lost on Recker – it suggested this part of the cylinder once had a crew - a crew he had to keep reminding himself was certainly dead.
“Clear,” said Drawl, having checked up the stairwell.
Recker sensed the hesitation in the squad and he swore at himself – he’d taken command and here he was standing dumbly and waiting for Sergeant Vance to get things moving.
“Private Drawl, up you go,” said Recker, striding closer to the doorway. The moment Drawl was gone, he stepped into the vacated space and looked up the steps. They had high risers and were steep, though they didn’t climb too far. Recker estimated they ended after twenty metres, which probably indicated the thickness of the armour separating the main bay below and the command levels above.
“It’s big up here. No sign of hostiles,” said Drawl on the comms. “And it’s filled with some kind of alien tech shit.”
Recker was seized by the urge to find out what secrets the cylinder held, and he ascended the steps rapidly, beckoning Sergeant Vance to come with him. He emerged into another space, much larger than the one below and with a three-metre ceiling. The curved inner and outer walls indicated that it wrapped around the central pillar and two straight walls suggested this room formed one quarter of a complete circuit. A diffuse light came from half-metre circular disks, flush with the metal overhead. These disks illuminated the area evenly and dispersed most of the shadows.
The alien tech shit, as Private Drawl had so eloquently described it, didn’t look like anything too unusual. Ceiling-mounted racks carried bundles of thick pipes or cables, which emerged from the central pillar and then disappeared into the ceiling or the walls. Blocky, chest-high, single-screen monitoring stations were fixed to the floor in numerous places directly beneath these racks. Slender posts rose from the top of each station and connected to the racks, which Recker guessed was how the flow along the pipes and cables was monitored.
A few bulkier pieces of kit were bolted to the outer wall, twenty meters from the top of the steps. These consoles didn’t have screens, but levers protruded next to panels of oversized mechanical switches.
“Manual overrides,” said Vance, pointing briefly. “Everything looks ancient.”
He was right – the tech did look old, though the overall sense Recker got from the cylinder was that it was far in advance of anything made by the HPA.
There were no threats to the squad in this room bar ones they’d make for themselves, so Recker ordered the squad to move up.
“If I see anyone pissing about with the hardware, I’ll shoot them myself,” he said, so there was no misunderstanding.
The soldiers hurried up the steps and he ordered them to secure the area. They split and most took cover behind the maintenance stations, whilst others hunted for exits.
“Maintenance area,” said Eastwood,
with evident interest. “Want me to check out any of these panels, sir?”
“Maybe later, Lieutenant. We’ve got to find the comms station.”
“None of this is comms,” said Burner, telling Recker what he already knew.
Although this room was huge, Recker estimated that it occupied only a small fraction of the cylinder’s diameter. The interior was 1100 meters across once you deducted the outer armour and the space occupied by the central pillar from the total. This room was approximately 120 metres deep and 400 metres along its curved length, which meant that the outer walls here were either extremely thick or there was plenty of exploration to be done. Not only that, there was potentially space for another eight or ten levels above this one if the builders had decided to cram them in.
“Find the exits,” Recker ordered. He looked about but couldn’t see any obvious doors. “Lieutenant Burner, you’re with me,” he continued, setting off towards the longest wall.
To Recker’s surprise, Burner held his rifle confidently and he followed at once.
“If this cylinder’s like the one on Etrol, I’d guess the comms station is on the level above this one, sir. Depending on how they spaced out the floors.”
As a pair, they jogged along the wall, which seemed to have been formed from a single piece of alloy. The override panels didn’t look any more sophisticated from up close and Recker wondered what sort of tech required manual intervention if things went wrong. No sooner had he asked himself the question than a dozen answers jumped into his head. The HPA had plenty of kit that could be manually overridden in the event of power failure, such as the internal doors on a spaceship.
Recker and Burner didn’t locate a door, but one of the soldiers did.
“Here, sir,” said Private Montero, over by one of the straight walls. “I’ve found a door.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue. “This one has a red light on it.”
War from a Distant Sun (Savage Stars Book 1) Page 17