Chains of Duty (Survival Wars Book 3)

by Anthony James

  The unlit dock filled most of the screen and Duggan admitted to himself he wouldn’t have enjoyed trying to fit into the bay with the transport under manual control. There were some things you just had to trust to the computers. There was no sensation of deceleration, though the view from outside indicated they’d slowed to a crawl. A gentle thump was followed by the clunking sounds of magnetic clamps latching onto the transporter’s hull. A green light appeared over the door, to let them know it was unlocked and safe to open. Duggan didn’t wait. He stabbed at the release button with his forefinger and tapped his foot for the few seconds it took for the door to open outwards and form a ramp.

  The compact docking bay was bathed in deep red light, with a single exit behind a sealed airlock door. Duggan marched across the solid metal floor, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the thickness of the metal. While the others scrambled to gather their belongings and follow, Duggan disengaged the door locks and watched as the square of metal sank away into the aperture and then slid to one side on heavy-duty runners. The walls were about three metres thick here and the door itself almost as deep. He paused on the threshold and closed his eyes, as he always did before he stepped onto a new warship. A faint draught washed over him, bringing tepid air and the sharp-edged scent of metal. It was the impersonal disdain of a killer.

  The others gathered behind him and Duggan wondered if they experienced the same feelings he did. McGlashan’s expression gave nothing away and she craned to see into the room beyond the door.

  “Come on,” said Duggan. “Let’s see what the Space Corps has given us to defend against our enemies.” With that, he walked ahead and onto the ES Terminus.

  CHAPTER THREE

  DUGGAN REALISED how ill-prepared he was, since he didn’t even know how to reach the bridge. Whilst McGlashan grinned, he called up the ship’s plans on a wall screen in the room beyond the airlock. The bridge was located slightly in front of the ship’s mid-point, which he knew was statistically the safest place for it. The infantry men and women were a few hundred metres away towards the aft, which was statistically the second-safest zone of the ship. On a small fighter like a Vincent class, it often didn’t matter that much – a single missile strike could easily engulf two or three of these safe zones, while a couple of missiles could destroy the entire vessel. On a larger warship, it could make the difference between a quick death and the opportunity to escape.

  “Sergeant Ortiz, lead the men to their quarters. You’re to take charge. If there are any complaints, tell them to message the bridge and speak to me about it.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, saluting.

  “We’re a warship, not a troop carrier, but there are still almost one hundred fighting men and women on board. I’m sure you can handle it.”

  Her face hardened and her dark eyes gleamed. “Of course, sir.”

  Duggan dismissed her and she headed off through the left-hand doorway with the other five men and women behind.

  “We’re this way,” he said, pointing straight ahead. The corridor ahead was illuminated in the Space Corps’ standard blueish-white artificial daylight. There was room for two people to walk abreast, albeit with little spare. Duggan went first, followed by the other three. The faint humming of the gravity drives told him the engines extended along much of the vessel, though that was normal on a fleet warship. So far, there’d been no surprises.

  “You’ve seen one ship, you’ve seen them all,” said Breeze.

  “I always feel as if I’m walking inside an enormous metal cube,” said Chainer. “With an unimaginable weight pressing down on me from above.”

  “Why a cube?” asked Breeze.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the shape my brain attributes to the experience.”

  Duggan listened to the conversation, without joining in. Some of the Space Corps’ vessels were incomprehensibly large and even the smaller ones contained an enormous amount of the dense metals needed for lightspeed travel. Being on a spacecraft made Duggan feel many things, but he rarely spoke about it.

  The bridge was behind a square blast-proof door at the end of another grey-walled corridor. The Terminus evidently had an automatic recognition programme that detected the approach of officers. There was a warning chime and a red light glowed from a beacon set in the ceiling. With barely a sound, the thick slab of a door slid away into a recess in the wall, revealing the bridge.

  “A bit bigger than I’m used to,” said Breeze, following Duggan inside.

  The bridge was six metres square and well-lit – almost too bright compared to that in the corridor outside. The air was chill and curiously free of odour. The captain’s chair was in the centre, surrounded by consoles and screens. There was a place for the second-in-command nearby, along with seats and consoles for comms and weapons to the left and right. There were four people already here. They’d clearly been expecting visitors since they were stood to attention and faced straight ahead with the neutral, steely gaze of those who didn’t know what to expect from their new captain.

  “I’m sure you’ve been told who I am,” said Duggan, looking at them in turn. “I’m Captain John Duggan, in charge of the ES Terminus. I’ve brought some of my own crew with me, who you will work alongside. They will introduce themselves in due course, but please be aware that Commander McGlashan here is the next in charge.” He walked over and stood in front of the nearest officer. “Who are you?”

  “Lieutenant Alice Massey, sir. Comms.”

  Duggan looked into her blue eyes. Massey was young and ambitious – he’d seen the type before and was suspicious. To Massey’s credit, she didn’t flinch under his gaze.

  “Name?” he asked, speaking to a slim man, who hardly looked old enough to vote.

  “Ensign Mick Perry, sir. I’ll be helping out with the comms as well.”

  The next man was broad and with a lined face. It was clear he’d once been a soldier before he trained as an officer. “Lieutenant Gabriel Reyes,” he rumbled. “Weapons. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  The final officer was in his mid-thirties, below average height and with an expressionless face. His eyes, however, were bright and intelligent. There was something dislikeable in the set of his features. “Lieutenant Herbert Nichols, sir. Military Asset Management.”

  Duggan frowned. “What do mean by military asset management?”

  “The Terminus is a valuable ship, Captain Duggan and it carries with it several items of non-disposable heavy armour. I’ve been assigned to ensure the Space Corps’ equipment is treated with the respect it deserves.”

  “I’ve never heard of your department.”

  “We’re recently formed, sir. We sit somewhere between the Space Corps and the people who approve the funding for all of these new warships.”

  “You’ve been set up by the Confederation Council?”

  “There must be oversight to ensure the Confederation’s taxpayers are getting value for their money,” said Nichols.

  Duggan stepped forward and looked closely at Nichols. “And what exactly do you propose to do if I treat the ship with what you believe to be a lack of respect?”

  Nichols didn’t recoil at the scrutiny. “I’m here on an advisory basis, sir. To watch and monitor.”

  “And to report anything you don’t like the look of?”

  “I’m sure I’ll be thoroughly debriefed at the end of our current duties, sir.”

  This wasn’t a pleasant surprise and Duggan had no idea if Nichols was here owing to new impositions on the Space Corps, or if he’d been assigned to the Terminus because Duggan himself wasn’t fully trusted. “Have you been in action before, Lieutenant Nichols?”

  “I’m a time-served officer, sir. You don’t need to worry about me hiding under a table when the firing begins.”

  “Assuming I’m permitted to let the Terminus take fire?”

  “You’re the captain, sir,” said Nichols, looking completely unruffled.

  “I am the captain.” Duggan lowered his voic
e. “If I catch you trying to undermine me, I’ll lock you in the brig. If I’m feeling particularly annoyed, I might just fire you into space. Am I clear?”

  “Very clear.”

  “Good.”

  Duggan turned so he could address everyone. “We’re looking for a missing prospector, the SC Lupus. You don’t need to be an expert to know that spacecraft don’t usually go missing without external interference, so there’s the possibility we’ll be called upon to take direct action against threats currently unknown.”

  “Is it these Dreamers I’ve been hearing about, sir?” asked Perry.

  In spite of efforts to keep a lid on things, most people in the Corps had heard at least a rumour about this new threat. It was as if the Ghasts were already a thing of the past. “We don’t know, Ensign, that’s why we’re going to have a look. All I’m allowed to say is that there is evidence of a credible threat. The source is known to be hostile to the Confederation.”

  “Are they as advanced as people are saying?” asked Reyes.

  Duggan sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to partake in the attempted cover-up – not unless he wanted to spend the whole journey speaking in half-truths and riddles. “I don’t know how advanced these people are speculating the Dreamers to be, Lieutenant. Suffice to say I have encountered them once and it was enough to scare me. Their technology isn’t within touching distance like that of the Ghasts – this new foe destroyed a number of our most powerful warships without effort or hesitation. If we encounter them, it will take every ounce of ingenuity, skill and luck we possess to defeat them or escape.”

  “If we’re going to die, why are they sending us, sir?” asked Massey.

  Duggan couldn’t tell if she was attempting insolence or was genuinely concerned they were being sent on a suicide mission. He gave her the benefit of the doubt. “Death is never certain. I’ve fought against them once, as have my crew. We’re still here to tell of it. We needed help and we will have the same assistance again. We’ll rendezvous with a Ghast Oblivion in two days from now. Their weapons complement our own and together we stand a chance.”

  He let that sink in for a few moments. The expressions of his new crew told a variety of tales, none of them happy ones. Someone gave a deep chuckle – it was Reyes.

  “I’ve spent years fighting the Ghasts and now I’ll be fighting alongside them.” He laughed again. “It’s going to take some getting used to.”

  “Believe it or not, we had the Ghasts beaten, Lieutenant,” said Duggan. “That’s why we can make peace with them. The Dreamers are something else entirely and as things stand, we have no chance of winning. They may have a weakness to exploit and we need to find it.” He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “We also need to find out what they want. They came through a wormhole and this was not their first attempt to do so. We believe they’ve tried it three times and succeeded twice. It’s almost certain they’ll keep coming. If their current incursion fails, there’ll be another after that and then another.”

  The four new officers still had questions and they tumbled forth, voices speaking over each other. Duggan asked them to be quiet. “We’re wasting time. We need to reach the meeting place with the Ghasts as soon as possible and then we can begin our search. Lieutenant Breeze, prepare us for lightspeed. As soon as we’re underway, I’ll convene a meeting for everyone onboard and I’ll tell you what I can. If it comes to fighting, I want you to know what you’re facing and what’s at stake.”

  Everyone took their stations, with Duggan too much on edge to take his seat. He stood at Lieutenant Breeze’s shoulder, watching him call up the engine data.

  “I’m impressed,” Breeze conceded. “There’s a lot of power at high density and we’ve got a powerful core to use it properly. I’ll bet we’re as fast as the Archimedes.”

  “A true evolution,” said Duggan.

  “You can control evolution,” said Breeze. “It’s the revolution you need to worry about.”

  There was an underlying message that Duggan didn’t quite agree with. He craved advancement – the fight to control technology and see what became of it.

  “Anything you don’t understand about these consoles?” he asked.

  “It’s standard stuff in a new suit,” said Breeze. “Nothing unexpected, just everything’s a little better and a little more efficient. I’ve got the coordinates from the Juniper for the first stop off. Then there’s another, longer trip to follow. I’ll not be able to provide an exact time until I’ve had a chance to dig around a bit more.” He pressed an area of his screen and an orange circle appeared. “That’s our fifty second warning to lightspeed. Not bad, I suppose. Nothing like the Crimson, but you can’t have everything, eh?”

  “Fifty seconds until we’re gone!” announced Duggan. He guessed the transition to lightspeed would be a smooth one, given this was the Space Corps’ newest vessel. Nevertheless, he decided it was time for him to sit in his cloth-covered chair, absently wondering if they’d stopped making the fake leather ones.

  A low rumbling heralded the catapult into lightspeed, accompanied by a featherlight sensation of spacial uncertainty. Then, it was done and the ES Terminus ripped its way through the fabric of the universe in a way which nature had never intended. Ahead lay undetermined hints of death and conflict.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “LIGHT-M ACHIEVED, sir. She’s got a lot of muscle,” said Breeze.

  “I could walk faster,” said Chainer provocatively.

  Duggan heard Lieutenant Massey snort. “This is the quickest ship in the fleet,” she said. “I’ve run a few sims on the theoretical output and we’re almost one percent faster than the Archimedes.”

  “In that case, we’re the second fastest ship in the fleet,” said Chainer, struggling to withhold his glee.

  “Lieutenant,” warned Duggan.

  “What’s faster?” asked Perry, not taking the hint.

  “The Crimson’s much faster,” said Breeze. “We recorded her at Light-V.”

  “Enough!” said Duggan, more forcefully. “We can’t make another Crimson, so for all intents and purposes the Terminus may as well be the fastest thing we’ve got.”

  The conversation ended and the background noises of the bridge came to the fore – a mixture of electrical humming and a peculiar high-pitched whine at the extents of hearing. Duggan checked the arrangement of his consoles and found them more or less to his liking. He could access the ship’s many systems and subsystems quickly and easily. The ergonomics department had put in a lot of effort. A series of control bars were positioned either side of his chair and within easy reach. Duggan rested his hands on them, letting the coldness seep into his skin. The manual controls weren’t active and wouldn’t work at lightspeed anyway, so he moved them carefully, testing the weight. There was much he needed to learn and he was desperate to get on with it. However, there was something he felt duty-bound to get out of the way first.

  “Ensign Perry, please let the troops know there’ll be a briefing in fifteen minutes.”

  “Where at, sir?”

  “I have no idea,” said Duggan. “This is the first time I’ve been onboard. You pick somewhere and we’ll go there. I assume there’s a mess hall or similar?”

  “I’ll tell them it’s in the mess hall,” said Perry, taking the easy way out.

  Duggan set off with the crew, leaving McGlashan behind. The chances of anything going wrong were remote, and she’d be up to the task of keeping an eye on things for thirty or forty minutes. He located the mess hall with a minimum of deviation on the way - Breeze had been right in more ways than one when he said all ships were the same.

  “Longer, wider passages, yet each going to the places you’d expect,” said Chainer. “I’m not complaining by the way.”

  “Yeah, who wants to spend time learning the layout each time you come some place new?” asked Breeze.

  The mess hall was the same as mess halls on every other ship Duggan had served on – bigger th
an some, smaller than others. There were long metal tables, firmly attached to the floor, along with a series of benches which were carefully designed so you wouldn’t want to sit on them for a moment longer than necessary. There were four food replicators visible – there could have been more, hidden behind the men and women streaming in from the far doorway. There was a low chatter amongst them – it was always the same on new ships with new people.

  Sergeant Ortiz was already there, standing to one side. Duggan caught her eye and she gave him a nod to indicate she was in control. This was about the largest number of troops she could be given charge of without having a higher rank.

  After a time, everyone was present bar the usual stragglers with their array of excuses. Duggan studied them, looking at the grim faces and hard eyes. These weren’t fresh recruits - these were battle-hardened troops who’d seen their share of combat. It was logical for the Space Corps to handpick who it wanted on its latest warship. There’d be the wise guys and the loudmouths in amongst them, but for now they showed impeccable discipline with their blue uniforms clean and pressed.

  Duggan spoke and they listened. “We’re out looking for a lost prospector. You may be asking yourselves why the Space Corps has decided to send its first Galactic class heavy cruiser on a search and rescue. In reality, this mission may put each one of us in danger. The rumours you’ve heard – the Dreamers – they’re real. The details you’ve been told may be lacking, but I can assure you this is a new threat and potentially a far greater one than posed by the Ghasts.” There was some muttering at this. Rumours were easily believed, yet there were times when it needed a senior officer to drive home the truth. “We don’t know what these aliens look like and we don’t know the extent of their capabilities. In fact, we don’t even know if they’re responsible for the loss of the prospector. I’m a man who expects the worst in the hope that I won’t find it. Therefore, I’m assuming we’re going to run into a few of these bastards.”