Chains of Duty (Survival Wars Book 3)

by Anthony James

  “What is it?” asked Teron. He didn’t sound particularly flustered or upset.

  “Have we cleared every scrap of data from the Ransor-D’s memory arrays, sir? I realise it’s an obvious question, yet I don’t want to leave without knowing for definite.”

  “There’s nothing there which can betray us,” Teron said. “I’m assuming none of you have memorised the five-hundred-digit coordinates of our populated planets?”

  Duggan looked around and was greeted with shrugs and headshakes. “Doesn’t appear so, sir.”

  “You’re clear what you have to do. Good luck, if I haven’t already said it.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Duggan, switching off the comms channel. He turned to the others in disbelief. “We’ve had clearance to leave on a mission of such importance and only now does he remember to ask if we’ve memorised the coordinates of Confederation worlds.”

  “I know the first fifteen or twenty digits,” said Breeze. “There didn’t seem much point in remembering the others, since computers do the hard work.”

  “Even so,” said Duggan, wondering if Teron had thought this whole mission through properly. It wasn’t too late to turn back, but there’d be repercussions if he did. The questions about the Ghasts’ allegiances needed to be answered and time was a luxury they didn’t have. “Prepare us for lightspeed,” he said.

  “Beginning the preparations,” said Breeze. “Fifty-five seconds. A little slower than the Terminus and Rampage.”

  Chainer looked about with a worried expression. “I hope they’ve fitted decent life support.”

  The technicians at the shipyard had worked hard on the Ransor-D and installed equipment which was adequate for the task of keeping the crew alive. When the warship switched from gravity engines to deep fission drives, there was a noticeable bump. Otherwise, the sense of dislocation was muted.

  “We’re at Light-L,” said Breeze. “That’s what I’d expected to see.”

  “How long to Vempor?” asked Duggan, aware it was going to be a long trip.

  “Twenty-eight days,” said Breeze, “With a likely margin for error being an hour or two either side, judging from the processing power of the AI.”

  “Twenty-eight days to contemplate our fate,” said Chainer. “I feel like I’m on death row and we’ve only just set off.”

  “You should have told me if you had doubts, Lieutenant,” said Duggan. “I asked you to come because you’re one of the best. I would have found someone else if I’d thought you weren’t certain you wanted to be involved.”

  Chainer had always been a man of highs and lows. He laughed, tinges of bitterness in the sound. “You aren’t the only one tied to your duty, sir. We’re here because we’re the same as you. We follow you and we put ourselves on the frontline because we’re driven to do it. I could have requested a transfer dozens of times over the last few years and I’d have got one.” His voice strengthened. “It’s never been an option, sir. Never has and never will, just like it is for you.”

  Duggan nodded and looked at the other two. It was McGlashan who spoke first. “I’ve given up everything to be here. There wasn’t a chance I’d refuse to come along. In truth, you knew it when you asked, sir. I don’t blame you and I chose to come willingly.”

  “You’re not as willing as you think,” said Duggan quietly. “There’s not one of us who could let ourselves do otherwise. I’ve often wondered if I’m exercising free will, or if I’ve taken that away from myself, leaving me incapable of escape. I don’t know if I’ll spend my life taking risks in the name of duty until my luck runs out - or I meet an opponent who’s just plain better than me.”

  “Have you found answers?” asked McGlashan.

  “Not yet. One day I’ll be old and wise enough to let go. If I live that long.”

  “We’re still needed,” said Breeze. “If we get back from this one alive, maybe I’ll hand in a request for early retirement. That should get me out of the Corps in four or five years. I don’t think I can face the rest of my life fighting.”

  “Perhaps you can, if you decide it’s what you want” said Duggan. “One thing is sure – while the Confederation is facing the possibility of war with two different enemies, I’m going to offer everything I have to give.”

  “What do you think will happen when we get to Vempor, sir?” asked Chainer. “I agreed to come but I don’t really want to die if I can avoid it.”

  “Me neither, Lieutenant. You’re not permitted to die. Admiral Teron’s made a promise that he’ll support a mission to Kidor to rescue the men and women I left behind. I’ll need a crew I can trust.”

  Chainer laughed, this time it was filled with unsullied humour. “You don’t demand much, do you?”

  “I take it the Space Corps aren’t planning a rescue?” said McGlashan.

  “I don’t think so.” Duggan sighed. “From a purely logical standpoint, I don’t blame them. Even if we sent half the fleet, there’s no guarantee they’d be able to destroy the Dreamer warship at Kidor. We’re only talking about a few soldiers and a shuttle. We lose people every day and in greater numbers.”

  “Doesn’t it make you angry?” asked Chainer. “They’re still our people.”

  “At what point do the risks become too great?” asked Duggan. He looked at McGlashan “Someone recently told me that these are the hardest decisions to make. Besides, I blame myself for it happening. It should be me – us if you’ll come – who attempt the rescue.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” said Breeze. “A blind man could see as much.”

  “I can’t help but take responsibility for what happens as a result of my actions,” said Duggan. “I’ll never be able to change that.”

  The conversation ended and the crew turned their attention to their consoles. The controls and interfaces were familiar and presented no obstacles. However, this was still a Ghast ship and many of its operating methods were unusual or activated in a different manner. It was mostly subtleties and when Duggan stopped to think about it, he realised what an awe-inspiring job the Corps had achieved in such a short time. He was a believer in underlying order and the notion that different species would find broadly similar methods to perform a given task appealed to him. None of that detracted from the accomplishment of making it comparatively easy for humans to pilot a Ghast heavy cruiser. However, there was one disappointment, which Chainer felt most keenly.

  “Look at this crap the replicator spat out!” he cried. There were items on his tray which he insisted on showing to everyone in turn.

  “What’s that?” asked Breeze.

  “Precisely my point! What is it? I asked for a cheeseburger and this looks nothing like a cheeseburger!”

  “That clear fluid could be liquid grease,” said McGlashan.

  “It should be inside the burger, though. Not in a puddle on the plate.”

  McGlashan wasn’t able to take the matter seriously. “It’ll do you good to cut down, Lieutenant. Just think what you’d look like after twenty-eight days of eating decent-quality replicated cheeseburgers. At least now you might consider getting some decent proteins and fats instead.”

  “No chance of that,” muttered Chainer, taking a bite of the lumpy, off-colour product. “It’s going to be a long journey.”

  “It appears the Space Corps is concerned about sharing our latest food replicating technology with the Ghasts,” said Breeze. “Hence they’ve installed one of the older models.”

  “One of the very oldest, it would seem. Closer to an antique if this stuff is anything to go by.”

  Duggan didn’t wait to hear the conclusion of the discussion. With the Cadaveron travelling comfortably towards its destination, he set out to explore the interior. A greater proportion of the vessel was given over for soldiers and crew than was usual on Space Corps warships. Duggan remembered how some Cadaverons had been known to carry more than a thousand mech-suited Ghast warriors. More recently, the Ghasts kept fewer of their soldiers onboard. The nature of the war ha
d changed until there was little need for warships to deploy enormous numbers of soldiers and armour onto a planet’s surface. Battles were usually won and lost in space. Afterwards, dedicated transport vessels would be used to deploy ground forces if they were needed in significant numbers.

  The Ransor-D was an older design, with plenty of rooms and open areas. He remembered finding smashed lockers and broken chairs in one such room. Now, that room was spotlessly clean, with the contents removed and presumably disposed of at the Atican shipyard.

  Duggan found his way to one of the barrack rooms and recognised it as the place he’d first boarded the vessel after it had smashed into the surface of Everlong. The light here was more muted than elsewhere and a shiver ran down his spine when he contemplated the living beings who had been killed in this room. There were other barrack rooms close by and Duggan found himself counting the bunks. At the end, he estimated the Ghast ship could have housed approximately eleven hundred soldiers, plus whoever else might have slept elsewhere within the labyrinthine interior of the hull.

  Aside from the troop-carrying potential, the Cadaveron was remarkably similar to a Space Corps warship. Internally it looked the same, sounded the same and had its own unique odour which filled every room. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, though Duggan wasn’t able to pin down exactly what it was. He discovered several rooms, separate from the others and clearly intended for officers. There was bedding here, laid out on the oversized beds. There was no decoration and everything was plain and for a specific purpose.

  After a few hours, he returned to the bridge, to find it exactly as he’d left it, with everyone at their stations and focused on a variety of minor tasks.

  Chainer looked up. “Where do we sleep?” he asked.

  “They’ve fitted out a few rooms,” said Duggan. “Probably where the Ghast officers bunked.”

  Chainer nodded and returned to what he was doing. Duggan took his own seat and tried to busy himself with the onboard systems. It only took a few minutes to realise he was wasting his time. He’d not used these older interfaces in many years, but for some reason they were still as fresh in his mind as they’d ever been. He sighed and looked at his wrist for the watch he no longer wore. It was going to be a long trip.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  AS DUGGAN FEARED, the days dragged slowly by and each one which passed brought them closer to an uncertain fate. Duggan hated the helplessness of being unable to face the coming challenge. He knew he should savour the time, since it could be the last remaining to him. He’d told himself similar things in the past and it had never been enough to alleviate the boredom of travel - Duggan would always be a man who preferred to arrive, rather than depart.

  Time seemed to pass gradually, yet its progress was inevitable. Twenty-eight days become twenty, then ten and then seven. With excruciating slowness, the seven days were reduced to one, until all that remained was a short time before the Ransor-D’s planned arrival at the Ghast home world of Vempor. The crew were rested and at their posts, awaiting the Cadaveron’s emergence from lightspeed.

  “We know absolutely nothing about Vempor, right?” asked Chainer for the dozenth time since they’d left Pioneer.

  “The Ghasts won’t allow us near any of their worlds as a condition of the ongoing peace negotiations,” said Duggan. “I can understand why.”

  “So, they’re going to be pretty angry when we show up out of nowhere,” said Chainer, again for the dozenth time.

  “We’ll have to handle it, Lieutenant,” said Duggan. “There’s no point in trying to make predictions about this. Once we arrive, there’ll be a short time during which we will attempt to gather the information requested of us.”

  “I’m not sure what I want to find. Nothing would be better than something,” said McGlashan.

  “If we find sign of Dreamers, I imagine it won’t be long until the ESS Crimson turns up in Vempor’s orbit, with the Planet Breaker refitted,” said Duggan. “I can’t imagine either the Space Corps or the Confederation Council will be willing to sit back if they think those two races are collaborating against us. Far easier to neutralise one threat quickly – a lesson they’ve learned the hard way.”

  “If we find nothing then there’ll be a few insincere apologies about a rogue captain and his crew seeking to overturn the peace process?”

  “We’re meant to be glory-seekers, not peace-breakers” said Duggan. “We’re here to show off to all and sundry how brave we are for facing the Ghasts alone.”

  “We’ll either be shot down by the Ghasts or thrown to the wolves by our own side,” said Chainer. He raised his hand to acknowledge he’d been made aware of the threats long ago.

  “We know the score,” said Duggan. “From now on, we play it by ear and hope we can somehow obtain a good outcome.”

  “I really hope we get a clear look at the surface and find nothing unexpected,” said Breeze.

  “That’s what I’d prefer,” said McGlashan, repeating her stated view. “It’ll still leave questions unanswered.”

  “Let’s not worry about the aftermath before we’ve arrived,” said Duggan. “I want everyone on top form for the task ahead.”

  “It’ll not be long,” said Breeze. “I’ve got a peak arrival likelihood of fifty minutes from now.” There was a rumbling, which caused one or two of the retrofitted consoles to buzz loudly. “Well damnit, we’ve just exited lightspeed.”

  The news caught Duggan off guard. He sprang into action. “Give me a sensor scan of the vicinity. I want to know what’s about. Prepare countermeasures against possible attack.”

  “We’ve come in pretty close,” said Chainer. “Large sun, seven planets. The middle one is above average in size with surface patterns indicating the presence of life forms.”

  Duggan didn’t wait to hear anything more. He pushed the Ransor-D to maximum velocity. “We’re hardly making a thousand klicks per second,” he said angrily.

  “We’ve benefitted from that before,” McGlashan reminded him. “Lots of wasted space in these old models where they could have fitted engines.”

  “Nine minutes until we reach a high orbit,” said Chainer. “I’ll have a good chance of gathering what we need from twenty thousand klicks up.”

  “Any sign of alarm?” asked Duggan.

  “Nothing yet. There are two small objects between us and the planet – they’re moving slowly. Civilian transports I’d guess.”

  “What can you see on the planet?”

  “It’s heavily built up on the exposed side, sir. There might be more than twenty billion Ghasts living here.”

  “We’re sending this data back, aren’t we?” asked Duggan, unwilling to leave it to chance.

  “Yes, sir, though there’s nothing much to tell yet. The surface is too crowded to make much sense from this distance.”

  “Commander McGlashan, please assist Lieutenant Chainer until I say otherwise.” She nodded in response. McGlashan had once been a comms officer and she’d spent a couple of years assigned to that role.

  Duggan tapped into one of the sensor arrays and fed the image onto the bulkhead screen. It showed a planet covered in mighty oceans, with comparatively little land mass. He zoomed in and saw the signs of vast, sprawling cities, which covered huge areas of the surface. There was one large continent visible and this too was covered in cities - they showed as irregular grey-white shapes, with mottled greens spreading away.

  “Vempor,” said Duggan quietly. The original home of mankind’s once-deadliest enemy.

  “Something’s pinged us,” said McGlashan.

  “What was it?”

  “It wasn’t hostile. I think it’s one of their ground bases querying our arrival.”

  “I wonder how long until they realise who we are,” said Duggan.

  “The ship has sent a response,” said McGlashan. She held her hands out to show it wasn’t something she’d intended. “The Cadaveron must have a system to respond automatically to signals from its base or other Ghas
t warships.”

  “A friendly handshake,” said Duggan. “They must be aware there’s something amiss – that we shouldn’t be here.”

  “I’ve located two areas on the surface which may be military bases, sir,” said Chainer. “They’re damned big.”

  “Are they scrambling to meet us?”

  “There’s one gravity drive burning hot. Otherwise, nothing.”

  “If the Ransor-D has provided the correct response to base, they might not have realised yet.”

  “The response will surely have contained encoded information specific to the ship,” said Breeze.

  “You’d have thought,” said Chainer. “There’s no sign of alarm yet. No, here we go - perhaps I spoke too soon. There’s someone hailing us.”

  “Ignore them,” said Duggan.

  “He’s quite insistent,” said Chainer a few moments later. “The shipyard technicians have installed the language modules on our ship and the instructions we’re receiving are very clear. The Ghasts want us to stop pissing about and tell them who we are.”

  “I don’t think that’s wise,” said Duggan.

  “There are other signs of activity on the surface,” said Chainer. “Seven more engines have lit up. Some big, some small.”

  It was the expected response. Duggan clenched his jaw, partially relieved to have had even this short respite before the Ghasts became alarmed.

  “Got twelve engines in total now. One is certainly an Oblivion. The rest are smaller – mostly Kravens.”

  “It doesn’t matter since we’re not going to fire at them,” said Duggan.

  “Four minutes till we can establish a suitable orbit,” said McGlashan.

  “Can you pick up much surface data from here?”

  “Bits and pieces, sir,” said Chainer. “We’re logging the top-level details as we go and sending them to the monitoring station.”

  “Two Ghast vessels have left the surface of the planet,” said McGlashan. “Kravens, I think.”

  The image of Vempor gradually increased in size on the bulkhead screen. Previously unseen details were resolved into shapes of huge structures, while areas of green became a patchwork of fields. Farming was still a vital industry within the Confederation and it was no surprise to find the same on this Ghast planet. There were some things technology couldn’t entirely replace.