War from a Distant Sun (Savage Stars Book 1)

by Anthony James

  “I know it, Sergeant. Give us the cover we need, and we’ll activate whatever weapon this damn cylinder contains.”

  While Vance strode across the room, waving his arms and shouting at his squad, Recker hurried to where Commander Aston was checking on Lieutenant Burner.

  “Do you need Corporal Hendrix to check you out?” asked Recker loudly.

  Burner groaned and uttered a few oaths. “I can’t hear out of my left ear,” he said, tapping that side of his helmet. “But nothing that’s going to going to stop me, sir.”

  “On your feet and let’s get something out of this situation,” Recker said, hauling the other man upright.

  Burner’s balance was off, and he stumbled before grabbing the edge of his console. “I’m good,” he promised, once he’d got himself steady.

  Watching carefully, Recker released his hold and the other man stayed on his feet. Without delaying further, he returned to his own console and got on with the job.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next few minutes were frustrating. Recker felt like he was becoming familiar with the alien hardware, yet the most important command functions eluded him.

  “What am I missing?” he snarled angrily. “I’ve accessed the weapons panel, but most of the options are greyed out, like it’s waiting for data.”

  “We’re attempting to learn a comprehensive command and control suite in fifteen minutes while under pressure, sir,” said Eastwood.

  Recker leaned on his knuckles, hoping for some inspiration. Over by the second entrance, Private Enfield activated one of his charges to seal the door and slow any further Daklan attempts to attack from that direction. The charge burned with a harsh light which made Recker think of a bulb illuminating in his head.

  “Something I saw earlier…” he started, checking through a couple of the menus which had initially seemed unimportant. Recker found what he was looking for. “Surface scan: idle,” he read from his screen.

  “We’re standing in a tenixite converter,” said Aston. “Maybe it scans for ternium ore.”

  “Tenixite is a damned big source of potential energy,” said Recker. He could have kicked himself, having earlier thought about how the converter might have created those cylindrical holes on the surrounding surface.

  “I know how to start the scan, sir,” said Burner. “I’ll do that now.”

  A moment later, a green progress bar labelled Scan Progress appeared on one of Recker’s screens and began its advance towards 100%. Meanwhile to the right, the sound of MG-12 discharge drew Recker’s attention to where the fighting had resumed.

  “Sergeant Vance what’s happening over there?”

  “Daklan, sir. Coming up the stairwell.”

  A grenade exploded in the doorway and Recker wasn’t sure which side had thrown it. Private Enfield sprinted that direction, fishing in his pack for one of his charges.

  “Still scanning,” said Burner.

  The progress bar raced along until it was almost at the end, where it stopped for long seconds, flashing slowly and infuriatingly.

  “Dammit,” Recker swore. “Does every single damn computer operation in the entire damn universe stall at 99%, just to piss me off?”

  The temptation to punch the hardware increased. At last, the bar moved an extra fraction and new text appeared beneath.

  Scan complete.

  Hoping he was on the right track, Recker navigated through the menu system. One of the greyed-out options was now available and he accessed it.

  Conversion ready. Target?

  “Hell, yes,” he said.

  The software linked in with the tactical screen and there he found, exactly where it had always been, the red circle of the annihilator. With a fingertip, he selected it as a target. Immediately, a red semicircle appeared above the green dot representing the tenixite converter, with the battleship right within the bounds. Text appeared on the screen.

  Selected target range within permitted minimum.

  “Minimum range for what?” said Eastwood.

  “The big one,” said Burner. “Whatever that is.”

  “If the battleship’s too close for discharge, how do we fix that?” said Aston, leaning in closer to have a look.

  “I’m not sure,” Recker growled in frustration. With his teeth gritted, he chose a different option. “There’s got to be a way to limit the effects of the weapon so that it will target the enemy ship.”

  “Any sign of an override option?” asked Eastwood.

  “Do we even want to override?” asked Burner. “Fail-safes are there for a reason.”

  Recker came across another sub-menu where he found the tenixite conversion was already set to minimum. The sliding scale made him wonder exactly what this cylinder was capable of if he turned the dial all the way up to ten.

  “We’re on the lowest level discharge already,” he said. “I’ll look for that override.”

  “The radius of this dead zone is two hundred klicks,” said Aston. “And we’re on the lowest level discharge?”

  “We’re going to fire this damn weapon, whatever the consequences,” said Recker.

  “I guess we don’t have much choice anymore.”

  The gunfire from the doorway intensified and when Recker listened in to the open channel, he could tell that squad’s control over the stairwell was fraying. Suddenly, the soldiers fell back, sprinting from the outer row of consoles and throwing themselves into the cover offered by the inner row. A huge explosion went off, far bigger than any grenade and Recker thought he could feel the blast through the soles of his boots.

  In the aftermath, a temporary lull came and Recker stopped looking at the doorway. He was sure the tenixite converter was designed to tap into the ore on the planet’s surface and make it do something unpleasant. Unfortunately, the annihilator was within the cylinder’s dead zone and the Daklan had no reason to take their spaceship elsewhere. Recker’s hands were tied and the enemy had far more soldiers at their command than he did.

  “We’ve got another shuttle coming from the battleship,” said Burner. “They must be running out of bodies down here and need to send some fresh ones for us to shoot.”

  “We can’t handle another transport full of their soldiers,” said Recker. In truth, he didn’t know if they could deal with the number already inside the cylinder, though he suspected that Vance and the squad had made significant inroads into the ranks of the alien scumbags.

  “The sensors are detecting another incoming spaceship,” said Burner suddenly. “It’s pushing a big ternium wave ahead of it.”

  It seemed to Recker that every time his plate was halfway clean, the cosmos served up another ladleful of ordure for him to spoon his way through. “What’ve we got this time?”

  “The sensor databanks don’t have a record of this vessel type, sir.”

  “Get a visual on it as soon as you can.”

  “A Daklan heavy lifter!” Burner exclaimed. “Altitude: two hundred thousand klicks.”

  The huge vessel appeared, with its boxy midsection and flat nose that had always reminded Recker of a sperm whale. It was unmistakably Daklan and could only be here for a single purpose.

  “I guess they don’t need to kill us before they begin the recovery operation,” said Eastwood sourly.

  “It’s descending,” said Burner. “Heading our way.”

  The moment he saw the enemy lifter accelerate towards the cylinder, Recker knew what he was going to do. He deselected the annihilator as the target and touched his finger on the new arrival. A red ring appeared around the lifter, moving with the spaceship. At the same time, the tactical screen updated and Recker’s heart jumped.

  Depletion burst available. Discharge?

  “Depletion burst,” said Aston, rolling the words across her tongue like she didn’t quite care for them. “I wonder what it does.”

  “We’re going to find out, Commander. The question is, can we catch two fish in the net?”

  The lifter didn’t se
em like it was in a rush. Presumably, the crew onboard had been advised by the annihilator that everything was in hand. On it came, inevitable yet unhurried, while Recker scraped his teeth together in frustration.

  At the doorway, Sergeant Vance and the squad were finding it progressively tougher to hold the Daklan. A shriek of propellant caused Recker to glance over in time to see the rocket from a shoulder launcher detonate in a massive burst against the ceiling about thirty metres from the door. Figures on the periphery of the blast scrambled away, patches of corrosive plasma chewing at the protective polymers of their combat suits.

  The blast rumbled across the floorspace and Recker spotted a pale blue shape arcing in the other direction – towards the doorway. Enfield set off his pack charge remotely and a second thunderous explosion lit up that area of the room. The MG-12 fell quiet, since Gantry was too experienced a soldier to fire into the fading blast, and Recker noticed the absence of the weapon’s comforting sound more than anything else.

  “Hold steady, Sergeant Vance,” said Recker. “If I’m right, we’re about to unleash hell.”

  “We won’t bend before we break, sir.”

  The light from the blast faded again and the MG-12 started up once more, joining in with the other weaponry. Another grenade went off and then two more.

  “Lifter at fifty thousand klicks,” said Burner.

  “It’s not the lifter I’m interested in,” said Recker. “It’s the lower limit of the depletion burst sphere.”

  With the annihilator only two thousand metres above the cylinder, the margins were tight and Recker had no idea what would happen to anything on the periphery of the unknown weapon’s effect. The battleship was a tough vessel and it seemed likely it would survive on the fringes. Recker knew that if the enemy warship remained operational, the game was up for him and everyone on the cylinder.

  “Come on,” muttered Aston.

  “Lifter at twenty thousand klicks,” said Burner.

  “It’s got a long way to go before the annihilator falls within the depletion burst,” said Recker.

  A shot cracked against a solid surface nearby and he looked around instinctively, expecting to discover that the Daklan had found a way through one of the other entrances. There was no sign of the enemy nearby, but Recker crouched lower into cover.

  “Lifter at ten thousand klicks,” said Burner. “What’s the range on its gravity chains?”

  “A hundred klicks for an object this size,” said Recker.

  The lifter didn’t slow its descent and soon it was within a thousand kilometres. The lower edge of the depletion burst sphere seemed like it was within touching distance of the battleship and Recker prepared to activate the discharge.

  Then, at five hundred klicks, the lifter slowed and, at 220, it came to a standstill.

  “That’s more than a hundred klicks,” said Burner. “The sphere is eighteen klicks short.”

  Recker didn’t need it spelling out and he clenched his jaw.

  “I thought a hundred klicks as well, sir,” said Aston. “What are they waiting for?”

  “I don’t know, Commander. Maybe they learned something from the cylinder on Etrol and aren’t ready to come any closer.”

  It didn’t quite add up and Recker knew he was clutching at straws.

  “They’re opening their bay doors, sir,” said Burner. “They’re getting ready for a lift!”

  On the sensor feed, Recker saw the lifter’s underside doors retract into its double-skinned hull. Elsewhere, the second Daklan transport arrived at the particle beam opening and he watched it manoeuvring into position.

  “Running out of time,” said Aston. “Even if this depletion burst takes out those spaceships, we’re going to be overrun.”

  “I don’t want to die, Commander, but if it’s going to happen, I’ll happy knowing the Daklan lost a battleship and a primary lifter at the same time.”

  “The lifter’s moving again, sir!” said Burner. “And the annihilator’s turning. Must be so close it’ll interfere with the gravity chains.”

  Watching the tactical display with its moving dots and text overlays gave Recker all the information he required. The battleship rotated and rose at a diagonal, on a course that would take it straight across the top of the cylinder. Directly overhead, the heavy lifter dropped lower, and the annihilator was enveloped in the sphere.

  Without giving the matter anymore thought, Recker activated the weapon.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Depletion burst: activation successful.

  The words glowed on the screen, loaded with promise. For a moment, Recker thought that nothing had happened. Then, he noticed a perfectly circular section of the planet’s surface – viewed on one of the sensor feeds – crumble into a dust which sank into the newly-created hole.

  At the same moment, a blast of pure darkness, lasting for less than a second, blotted out the stars overhead. This sphere of destructive energy didn’t expand from a point of origin like a conventional explosive, rather it appeared fully formed and then disappeared like it had never existed.

  When the blast cleared, the heavy lifter was gone, both from the sensors and the tactical. The annihilator, however, wasn’t gone and Recker stared in horror at what had become of it.

  The depletion burst had stripped the warship of every single protective armour plate, as well as several billion tons of what lay underneath. What remained was a ragged, uneven shape which bore no resemblance to the proud construction of savage beauty which had once risen from a Daklan shipyard.

  Large pieces broke off from the ruined hull and tumbled towards the ground, while a huge cloud of smaller flakes made the battleship seem like it was surrounded by a miasma of disease.

  “It’s coming down,” said Burner.

  Recker’s eyes darted towards the tactical. The predicted trajectory overlay told him the unwanted story.

  “Right on top of us.” He smashed his fist on the console. “Why is it never easy?”

  “It’s going to miss the top section,” said Burner. “Not by much.”

  Recker wasn’t so sure. Though the annihilator was no longer accelerating for orbit, some of its propulsion modules were still firing underneath the corrosion and the warship began rotating at the same time as it fell. All Recker could do was grit his teeth. Even in its death throes, it seemed like this battleship wasn’t finished with him.

  “Is there anything we can do?” said Aston.

  Slowly, Recker shook his head. “For once, we’ll have to let this one play out.”

  The tactical updated constantly as the converter’s sensors tracked the battleship’s change in orientation. Debris continued to scatter everywhere, as though the disintegration was ongoing and Recker noted how the warship’s entire nose section was attached precariously to the rest of the spaceship.

  “It’s breaking up,” he said. Recker accessed the squad channel. “Sergeant Vance, good news is, the enemy battleship is destroyed.”

  Vance was quick on the uptake. “And the bad?”

  “What’s left is coming down straight on top of us.”

  “I’ll tell the squad to keep their helmets on.”

  “Impact in approximately thirty seconds. Hold the enemy at bay and good luck to us all, Sergeant.”

  “Amen to that, sir.”

  The annihilator’s nose section – about five or six billion tons’ worth - broke away, while the rest of the warship’s structure remained intact. To Recker’s eye, the disintegration had slowed and the trailing cloud of alloy particles was no longer so dense as it was.

  “That’s going to make a hell of a splash,” said Burner.

  With ten seconds until impact, it became clear that the annihilator was going to miss the uppermost section of the tenixite converter. If the life support units didn’t fail, there was a chance Recker and everyone inside the cylinder might survive.

  “Now,” said Eastwood.

  The nose section crunched into the centre of the cylinde
r, while the rear section of the annihilator clipped the lowest part where the converter had sheared from its base. One of the external sensors had a partial view of the impact and Recker watched as the cylinder simply crumpled beneath the impact.

  “Best hold on,” he said.

  The shockwave flowed through the walls, the floor and everything else, producing a bone-deep rumbling that made Recker think of a thousand lifter shuttles taking off at once. The shaking was so violent it seemed like the floor had become a liquid with a surface of fast-rolling waves. Recker found himself on the floor, though he wasn’t sure how he got there, with his head ringing like a hammer-struck bell.

  For long moments, the rumbling and the shaking continued and Recker became faintly aware of voices on the comms, though he couldn’t make out if they spoke words or simply made sounds. With an effort, he rolled over and saw Aston nearby with her face twisted in a grimace of pain.

  He kicked his legs, instinctively trying to get to his feet again, though he was sure he would fall again at once if he were to succeed. Somehow, he got a foot beneath him and pushed, using his hands to keep himself steady.

  And then, the shockwave faded rapidly until Recker could feel it no longer. He looked about the room, expecting everything to be broken and smashed. Instead, it was as if nothing had happened – the consoles and screens were exactly where they’d been before the battleship crashed down.

  “Sergeant Vance?” he said. Recker’s first attempt was croaky and he wasn’t sure if it was loud enough to be heard. He tried again and his voice came out stronger. “Sergeant Vance, I need a status update.”

  The walls of the cylinder groaned in distress and a booming noise drowned out Vance’s response. He repeated it, louder this time.

  “We got knocked about, sir. I don’t think the Daklan came out of it any better.”

  The gunfire started again, though it lacked the ferocity of earlier, like this small-scale battle was no longer so important. Even as Recker was checking over the other members of his crew, the rifle discharge reduced from constant to sporadic.