by Richard Fox
“Mark!” Elias activated his pack and felt his true body thump against his womb as the fall of three armor soldiers slowed considerably. They came down over a saddle extending away from the mountain and the combined force of Elias’ and Caas’ jet packs brought them to a complete stop…thirty feet over the ground.
Caas’ jet pack ran dry and Elias cut his to stop them from spinning out.
Caas and Ar’ri screamed in fright as they went into free fall. Elias put a hand against Caas and shoved her away.
Elias tried to twist around to take the fall on his feet and hit on his back. He felt his jet pack crumple beneath the impact and went down the slope of the hill. He and Ar’ri rolled like an out-of-control barrel until a boulder brought them to a jarring halt.
Damage icons flashed against Elias’ vision, but none too severe.
He tried to get up, but Ar’ri had his helm buried against Elias’ chest and arms wrapped around him.
“Ar’ri. Let go.” Elias thumped a fist against Ar’ri’s back.
Ar’ri’s helm shot up. He crawled away and got to his feet.
“You saved me,” Ar’ri said.
“So did your sister.” Elias looked back and found Caas sliding down the side of the hill.
“All three of us could have died…because I was an idiot. Burned through my thrusters.”
“If this is the worst thing that happens to us today we’re damned lucky.” Elias turned and saw Phoenix in the distance. “You can feel bad later.”
He detached his jet pack and let it fall to the ground without ceremony.
Bodel landed nearby, his feet hitting the ground so smoothly it was almost as if he was coming down a flight of stairs.
“I watched your landing,” Bodel said, “smooth.”
“We Dotok have a saying.” Caas came to a stop on a cloud of dirt and loose rocks. “‘Any landing you can talk about, you can brag about.’”
“So that’s Phoenix?” Ar’ri asked. “I thought it would be bigger.”
“One day I will ask Ibarra why he chose this sweltering hell hole as his headquarters,” Bodel said, “and not some beautiful place like Berlin or Munich.”
Elias unlimbered his treads and drove off, the rest following close behind.
CHAPTER 21
The Scipio flew to an open portal the size of a battlecruiser and slowed to a stop. Nothing but darkness greeted the human ship.
On the bridge, Hale tried and failed to navigate the data filter options on his command screen.
“Egan, Tagawa, what’s in there?” he asked.
“Nothing on sensors,” Tagawa said. “Want me to risk a radar pulse?”
“Not yet,” Hale said.
“Setting screens to IR,” Jacobs said. The image through the windows changed to a heat scale. Just beyond the opening, a rocky column more than twice the width of the Scipio extended from the inner surface and into the center of the sphere.
“Looks like we’ve got a path,” Egan said.
“Go. Keep us close to it,” Hale said. He opened up a ship-wide channel. “Point defense teams, you are cleared to engage any Xaros you encounter. Stay alert.”
As the ship crossed into Abaddon, a slight shudder went through it. Egan put the pillar to the starboard side and increased the ship’s speed.
“‘And I beheld a straight and narrow path, which came along by the rod of iron,’” Jacobs said.
“What?” Hale asked.
“Sorry, sir. Something from scripture,” she said.
“I can see maybe ten seconds ahead with the infrared,” Egan said. “After that, there’s just nothing.”
“Makarov had some idea about this,” Jacobs said. “From the notes recovered off the Midway, she thought the Xaros had carved up a dwarf planet or Kuiper belt object from the outer orbit of Barnard’s Star. The enemy would convert the mass to drones on the way over. Looks like they did just that.”
“I saw the estimates on the force moving to Mars,” Hale said. “If they converted this whole thing to drones…where are the rest?”
“Eighth Fleet wrecked Abaddon’s propulsion rings. The drones had to burn themselves out to get this thing to our solar system. The graviton mines her fleet set up made them work that much harder,” Jacobs said.
“Makarov gave Earth a fighting chance. I’m glad I got to meet her,” Hale said.
“Slowing down,” Egan said. “We should be at the center soon, and I don’t know if this ship can take a sudden stop.”
“You really think the Xaros would leave this place unguarded, sir?” Jacobs asked.
“The Xaros attack in mass,” Steuben said. “Overwhelming force always has a lower casualty rate and chance of success for an attacker. Leaving a force to protect a spent asset does not fit their behavior.”
“Then why is there something worth blowing up in here?” she asked.
“The only other invasion where that General has shown up was Takeni, right?” Hale looked at Steuben, who nodded. “He must think we don’t know about the conduit. He must not know about Torni.”
“Torni’s alive?” Jacobs and Tagawa asked at the same time.
“Captain Hale,” Steuben said, shaking his head, “I am glad you are commissioned in the infantry. You would have made a poor military intelligence officer.”
“Got something,” Standish said from a point defense turret. “Big and long something—heh heh—at our ten o’clock, mark two.”
An image of a section of another rocky column popped up on Hale’s visor, angled downward. Hale mentally traced its course.
“It’ll intersect with the pillar we’re following,” Hale said. “We must be close.”
“Slowing,” Egan said.
A minute later, the column ran into a basalt-colored orb the size of a stadium. Thick columns of rock spoked off the surface in many directions.
“This is the place.” Hale unbuckled from the command chair and got to his feet. “I don’t see an entrance, but it looks like the same material the Crucible is made out of. We can cut through that.”
“I will lead the assault team,” Steuben said. “We will bring the warhead inside the structure and set it for remote detonation. The explosive should suffice.”
“No, I will—”
“You are the commander of this vessel, Hale. I am XO. I am to do all duties you do not wish to do or have time to do and you do not have time to heal your arm.” Steuben gave Hale a curt nod and walked off the bridge.
“Sir,” Jacobs said as she unsnapped her restraints, “permission to—”
“Go.” Hale sat back in the command chair, looked at his injured arm, and hated himself for sending others into danger he wasn’t able to share.
****
Cortaro landed on the basalt surface. His boots scraped against the rock, gouging out bits of rock as he slowed to a stop. He tested his footing. The command center felt spongy, almost soft beneath his feet.
“That’s different,” he said.
“Coming in.” Jacobs touched down a yard away, her feet slipping and shooting out from under her. Cortaro snapped his hand out and caught the lieutenant before she could go flying into the abyss.
“Careful, ma’am,” he said.
The sky was lightless. Rock pillars extended from the command center and vanished in the inky dark. A sense of absolute stillness fell over Cortaro. He heard only the sound of his breathing, and felt a growing sense of dread.
“I’ll admit it,” Jacobs said. “I’m not a fan of this place.”
“Let’s blow it and get the hell out of here.”
Orozco, Yarrow and two Marines from Crimson team landed near them. Yarrow took a breach charge off his belt and strung it across the surface.
“Warhead team,” Cortaro said, “get ready. This stuff self-repairs pretty quick. Start moving soon as you see the charge go off.”
There was a double click on the IR as the other team acknowledged the order.
Orozco swept his plasma cannon across the
sky.
“There’s nothing out here,” he said. “It’s like we’re in Satan’s belly.”
“Fire in the hole.” Yarrow unsnapped a detonator switch from the line, stepped away from the charge and clicked the switch three times. Light flared from the breaching charge and a ring of burning gas shot away from the command center as the line burned through the outer layer.
Cortaro felt a slight tremor as the charge cut through the inner hull. The ring of gas died away.
“Partial, damn,” Yarrow said from the edge of the burnt hull. “Didn’t cut enough to knock our new door free. I need a pick to haul out the section we cut loose.”
“No time. I’m doing a body breach.” Cortaro jumped up and pulled his knees to his chest to somersault away from the command center. He straightened his body, pointed the soles of his boots at the center of the glowing circle and overcharged the gravity plates. His boots pulled him to the command center far faster than he would have ever fallen on Earth. Cortaro hit the breach, the momentum pushing the severed section into the orb like a champagne cork going the wrong way.
Cortaro released his grip just as he entered the command center. He fell twenty feet and managed to land with his feet and knees together, rolling with his momentum. He swung his plasma rifle off his back and across his new surroundings.
The hull section bounced against a black floor so polished Cortaro could have used it as a mirror. Rows of chest-high workstations like he’d seen on the Crucible radiated away from a plinth in the center of the room. There, in a sparkling column of light, was a set of red armor plates that would have fit a giant.
Something heavy landed behind Cortaro. He swung his rifle around and found Steuben behind him.
“What you did to gain our entry was unusual,” the Karigole said. “Teach me.”
“Later. Later.” Cortaro pointed his rifle to the General’s armor. “What about that?”
“That would appear to be the entity the Iron Hearts and Lafayette encountered,” Steuben said. “I do not believe the entity is here, as we are not fighting for our lives.”
“…some activity…hurry…” came over the IR.
“Figures.” Cortaro looked up at the hole and waved to the Marines looking through. “Get that bomb in here!”
Weiss pulled a torpedo warhead nearly half his size through the hole. The two floated down on an anti-grav harness wrapped around the device. Weiss landed gracefully and kept control of the warhead like it was a child’s balloon.
“First Sergeant! Steuben!” Yarrow yelled from the opening, which was shrinking slowly. Flashes of plasma shot over his head. “We got drones! Get the hell out of there!”
Cortaro grabbed the warhead and pulled it toward the ground. He ripped the harness off and it fell with a metal clang.
“Set the timer. Five minutes,” he said to Weiss.
“Is that going to be—” Cortaro slapped Weiss on the side of the head before he could finish. “Yes, First Sergeant!” He opened a panel on the side of the warhead and pecked at keys.
Steuben drew his sword and set his feet in a wide fighting stance.
The light at the center of the room grew slowly. The armor plates shifted against each other.
“Go. I will hold him off,” Steuben said.
“You’re tough, but you’re no Elias.” Cortaro aimed his rifle at the base of the dais and let off three shots. The dais fractured, sending hunks of stone bouncing off the workstations. The armor plates clattered to the ground.
Steuben looked at Cortaro and grumbled.
“Weiss?” Cortaro asked.
“Timer set. Can we leave now?” Weiss asked.
“Look.” Steuben pointed to the dais, which was slowly reforming. The armor plates leapt off the floor and found their place in the light. Steuben and Cortaro pounded the dais with their rifles, blasting it down to a heap of rubble and scattered armor.
“Let’s go.” Cortaro backed away, watching as the armor slowly returned to the dais. The first sergeant touched the control panel on the warhead and took a minute off the timer.
Weiss jumped into the air and pushed himself to the shrinking exit with a burst from his anti-grav linings.
Cortaro crouched and keyed his boots to do the same. An error message popped up across his visor telling him his anti-grav linings had just shorted out.
“Ah, damn it.” Cortaro looked at the diminishing timer on the warhead.
“Don’t worry,” Steuben said, grabbing Cortaro by his belt and shoulder, “we’ve done this before.”
“No! No, Steuben wa—” Steuben yanked Cortaro off his feet and tossed him to the exit like he was a piece of luggage. Cortaro bounced off the side of the hole and went flying into the abyss. A hand grabbed his ankle and slammed him back to the surface.
Cortaro mag-locked a hand to the sphere as plasma bolts flashed overhead.
“What were you doing in there?” Orozco aimed his cannon at a lump rearing up from the surface and hit it twice. Pyrite broke out of the lump and scattered through the void.
A stalk shot up next to Cortaro’s face. He pressed his rifle against the base and severed the stalk with a single shot.
“They’re coming out of the floor,” Cortaro said.
“Welcome to two minutes ago.” Orozco ripped shots across another mound that formed like a wave.
Steuben came through the hole and landed. He swung his sword and cut through another stalk growing from the surface.
“We should leave,” Steuben said. The Karigole grabbed Cortaro by the waist and jumped toward the Scipio. The point defense turrets blasted away at the surface, leaving a narrow corridor for the Marines to return to the ship.
“Captain, bomb is set,” Cortaro said. “Had to rush the time table. We’ve got maybe two minutes before this neighborhood gets even worse.”
“Get on board. We’re not leaving you out there,” Hale said.
Cortaro looked to the command sphere, then to the open shuttle bay on the Scipio.
“I don’t think we’re going to make it,” he said.
****
Hale locked the command chair restraints across his chest and slammed his helmet on.
“Egan, get us the hell out of here soon as we’ve got everyone back on board,” Hale said.
“This is turret three,” Standish said over the IR. “I’m down to fifty rounds and I swear every inch of that sphere is about to become a drone.”
Hale looked over the crowded command screen and slammed a fist against the armrest. “Tagawa, how much longer until—”
A flash of white light seared through the windows. The Scipio bucked like it had been kicked. A fragment of the sphere the size of an armor suit hit the bridge at an angle, shattering the starboard window and denting the ceiling.
Air rushed out of the bridge, leaving a sheen of frozen water vapor across Hale’s armor. Hale slammed from one side of his restraints to the other. A rocky column twisted over and over through the front window.
“Egan! We’re hit!” Hale shouted.
“I’m trying!” Egan’s hand struggled to reach a control panel over his head as the ship’s roll tugged his hand back and forth. He finally got his fingertips against the panel and tapped a button with his thumb several times. The spin abated as maneuver thrusters across the starboard hull flared to life. The ship came to a halt and Egan cut the thrusters. He fell back against his chair, his arms loose at his sides.
“That should do it,” Egan said.
“Cortaro? Steuben?” Hale asked.
The IR was silent.
“Here. We’re all here, sir,” Cortaro said. “Had a pretty shitty ride in the shuttle bay.”
“Bridge lost atmo. Get me a casualty report and start patching holes,” Hale said. “Damage report.”
“Still have pressure in several cabins,” Tagawa said. “For what it’s worth, there wasn’t much left to break. Except for that.” she nodded to the cracked window.
Why the hell didn’t I put the s
hip in combat conditions and drain the air? he thought. Maybe this is why officers don’t command ships and ground troops at the same time.
Hale looked at the column just beyond the ship’s prow.
“Egan…is that the same one we followed to get to the center?” Hale asked.
“I got disoriented. I’m not sure, sir.”
“Turn to starboard and follow it. That will take us back to the command center, I think. We need to make sure the job’s done,” Hale said.
“Moving.” Egan sent the ship to the right and flew over the column. It ended in a broken spike a minute later. More broken ends of the many columns that led to the command center pointed to Abaddon’s now empty core. Burning motes flit through the empty space like summer fireflies.
“Mission accomplished,” Tagawa said.
“It is…but which way is out?” Hale asked, looking at each cracked column. Any of them could lead to the open portal they used to enter the hollow world and their escape…or to a dead end.
****
Hale crossed his arms over his chest. He looked over the team of Marines welding a metal plate over the shattered window then out the front of his damaged bridge. The broken columns felt like accusing fingers, all denouncing Hale for his failures in planning and leadership.
“We could take each one,” Jacobs shrugged. “Process of elimination until we figure out which is the way out.”
“Not to intrude, ma’am,” Egan said from the helmsman’s station. He tapped on a screen with blinking red icons. “The reactor’s on her last legs. I push it any more than one or two trips out to the surface and we’re dead in space.”
“Radar pulse?” Mathias asked. “Maybe we can map out the interior and find the exit.”
“Radar is meant for short range,” Tagawa said. “Hundred miles at most. With the distances to the shell, we’ll have beams bouncing all over the place. Like trying to listen to static.”
“The IR antenna utilizes a tight beam,” Steuben said.
“I aim it down the spikes and see where the signal doesn’t reflect back,” Egan said. “IR’s going through the shell. That’s our exit and Bob’s our uncle.”