Negation Force (Obsidiar Fleet Book 1)

by Anthony James

  “Sounds like a good idea. There should be suits in the weapons room – I’m going to need painkillers again before this is over.”

  They made their way down the ramp. Reynolds brought up the rear, claiming he wanted to guard their backs. Neither Keller nor Cruz were fooled for a second – the only person Reynolds was looking out for was himself by allowing them into the bunker first.

  Once inside and when it was obvious there were no Vraxar lying in wait, Reynolds got in front and led them across the guard room. “It’s a long way to the bottom, Lieutenant Cruz. Down a lot of stairs.”

  “I’ll manage,” she said. “Larry’s doing a great job.”

  “I hope you didn’t forget about that date,” Keller whispered. “After all this, I think I deserve one.”

  She grinned at him. “I didn’t forget, Larry.”

  Cruz was aware of the tales about the extent of the Tillos underground bunker, but it was one of those things she needed to experience in order to fully appreciate the magnitude of what the Space Corps had achieved in excavating such a monumental hole in the earth and fitting it out to allow potentially thousands of people to work here. There weren’t thousands working now – it was empty and the loudest sound was their feet on the floor.

  They travelled a few hundred metres along a main corridor. The lighting functioned, though there was little to see. Once you’d experienced how the Space Corps did things, there was rarely anything left to surprise. Whatever they built and wherever they put it, everything looked the same as it did elsewhere in the Corps. In spite of the fact that personal music players were frowned upon and there were only a limited quantity of artificial plants to share around, serving personnel were almost invariably dedicated and professional.

  “Are you two managing?” asked Reynolds when they reached the top of the first stairwell. “I’d offer to help but you seem to be getting along nicely.”

  Reynolds had a way of being insolent, whilst not being quite insubordinate enough to allow Cruz to confidently call him out on it. She knew as soon as she reprimanded him, he’d play the victim and she’d end up looking like she couldn’t control lower-ranked officers. Cruz cursed herself for having this problem. Against other officers, Reynolds was predictably obsequious and grovelled enough to make her cringe when she saw it. He’s just one of those people. The thought wasn’t a helpful one.

  “Think you can manage if I go in front?” asked Keller. “These steps aren’t too steep.”

  “Go on,” she said. Her ankle was throbbing and she couldn’t muster a smile.

  They reached the bottom of the steps without incident and without assistance from Reynolds. Cruz found herself despising him and she was appalled he had so much power over her that he could elicit such an emotional response.

  “How long until we get rescued?” Reynolds asked over his shoulder.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it’ll be several days. Assuming rescue comes.”

  “You think these Vraxar are here to stay?”

  “I think they’ll stay on Tillos until they’ve got what they want.”

  “You shut the processing core down, right? That leaves them with the main array which the good Sergeant McKinney is going to destroy for us.”

  “What’s your point, Lieutenant Reynolds?” Cruz asked.

  “No point in particular. It strikes me they’ll want to leave as quickly as they arrived. That data array has got to weigh a few thousand tonnes – it’s too big for a shuttle to carry off-world, even a big shuttle equipped with a gravity winch. They’ll need a lifter of some type. Whether or not Sergeant McKinney succeeds or fails it won’t affect how long they’ll stick around. If the data array is gone, they’ll leave. If the data array survives, they’ll lift it and vanish into lightspeed anyway.”

  “You believe they’ll be gone in a few hours,” said Keller.

  “I reckon so. After that, the Space Corps will return and start digging through the rubble to see what remains of Tillos.”

  “There’s not much left.”

  “It’ll be impossible to put most of it together, I’m sure,” said Reynolds. “Like a giant jigsaw with half of the pieces missing. Twenty thousand deaths to investigate, whilst the threat of a new alien menace looms above us.”

  “Best we hole up somewhere so we can help them out,” said Keller.

  “Which is exactly why we’re here,” Reynolds replied.

  “He’s a bit creepy,” Keller whispered to Cruz. She could only nod in response.

  They reached another set of steps and descended to another wide corridor. This led to another room, another corridor and yet more steps. More corridors and steps followed, each one increasingly difficult for Cruz to manage.

  “We’re most of the way down,” said Reynolds. “A couple more of these long stairwells and we should be close to the guard station.” He winked. “There might be some painkillers in there as well.”

  “Oh shut up, Tez,” said Keller. “Can’t you see she’s had enough of your crap?”

  Reynolds didn’t respond. He led them into a long, wide passage, which curved slightly to the left. There were doorways at regular intervals in the right-hand wall and a series of huge windows in the left wall.

  “One of the many viewing areas,” said Reynolds, indicating the closest window with one hand. “To allow the technicians to see their work whilst remaining only a short distance from their comfortable offices.”

  Neither Cruz nor Keller had seen the working area of the bunker before and they moved past Reynolds in order to look at the ES Lucid. There were no seats here, so Cruz tucked her pistol into her belt and leaned forward with her hands on the sill. She peered into the vastness of the bunker, with Keller standing reassuringly close in case she needed support.

  “That’s one big spaceship,” said Keller with a low whistle. “I wouldn’t like to be the one responsible for flying it in and out of the bunker.”

  “I wonder why it’s still running,” said Cruz. “Sergeant McKinney seems to have more than a passing interest and he didn’t have an idea.”

  “Obsidiar cored,” said Keller promptly. “That’s what it’ll be.”

  “It’s fairly important the Vraxar don’t find it, then?”

  “We don’t know exactly what they want, Lieutenant,” Keller replied. “We assume they’re here to find out where the other Confederation worlds are, but what happens after that? Do they want resources? If so, I’m sure our Obsidiar will be high up on their wants list.”

  Cruz heard a noise, something out of place, followed by a high-pitched cracking. At first, she didn’t recognize it and she turned, puzzled, towards Keller. He had a strange frown on his face. Then, Cruz saw the blood – a large, uneven circle of it spreading from the left-hand side of his chest. With a sigh, he toppled to one side.

  Cruz tried to turn, doing her best to keep the weight off her broken ankle. Too late, she realised it would have been better to risk the additional injury in order to spin around as quickly as possible. She heard footsteps across the floor. A dark shape appeared in her periphery, coming down towards her. She was struck hard on the back of the neck. The single knee carrying her weight sagged and she reached out to grab the sill. She felt something hit her again, this time high on the cheekbone. A third strike knocked her to the ground.

  Gasping and struggling to remain conscious Cruz fell forward, dazed. Her broken ankle twisted beneath her and the pain of it made her shout in agony. Coloured spots danced across her retinas and she landed hard on the floor. She put her arms out but found her brain unable to control them properly and the side of her head bounced off the hard floor tiles. Her vision swum.

  A hand tugged at her belt and she heard her gauss pistol clatter away in the distance. There was more tugging and the gauss rifle followed.

  “You won’t be needing those, will you?” asked Reynolds.

  Then, he grabbed her wrists and started dragging her across the floor. She tried to struggle and kick out, but nothin
g seemed to be working anymore.

  “There’s no one left, princess,” he said. “No one to hear you and when the cavalry finally arrives they’ll be too busy with all the other crap to care about one more dead body.”

  She tried to speak, to ask him why he was doing this. Talking was too much effort and the best she could manage was to mumble under her breath.

  “If you’re asking yourself why I’m doing this, well it’s just because I can. I might as well take the chance while it’s there to be taken, eh?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, Cruz found herself somewhere new. She didn’t know where she was at first and then her brain registered the sight of a desk and some shelves. Reynolds had taken her into one of the offices along the inner wall of the viewing area. Her eye socket hurt like hell and waves of nausea rolled through her stomach.

  He didn’t waste time and started pulling at her uniform. Cruz heard him swear when he figured out he was far too weak to rip the material. The fastenings were at the back and Reynolds pushed and pulled until she was lying on her side. From this angle, she could see through the open door. Larry Keller’s body lay still – the gauss slug had caused too much damage for him to get up and rescue her.

  “What the hell is that?” said Reynolds.

  Cruz had no idea what he was talking about and tried feebly to strike him with a fist. He batted her arm away impatiently and strode through the door, his head tipped to one side as though he was listening to something.

  Reynolds swore and ran back into the office. He took hold of Cruz’s leg – luckily not the one with the broken ankle – and pulled her towards the desk.

  “Sounds like the rescue team has come earlier than expected,” he panted. “We’re going to wait it out in here. If you’re a good girl, I might let you go afterwards. However, if you make any noise at all, I’m just going to shoot you.”

  Reynolds hauled her behind the desk. Cruz hadn’t yet come fully to her senses, but she was no fool. Whatever happened, Reynolds had given himself no choice other than to murder her. The only thing stopping him from killing her immediately was the fact he was still thinking with his trousers rather than his brain.

  She heard the approaching footsteps. They were heavy and deliberate, metronomic almost. The footsteps were accompanied by the clunk of metal and a scraping sound she didn’t recognize. Whoever had arrived, they’d done so in great numbers.

  Once in while we’re put in a situation where all roads lead to the same shitty destination, she thought.

  Through one half-open eye she saw Lieutenant Reynolds, crouched over her legs and leaning to look through a gap in the side of the desk. His brash self-confidence was gone and his skin was pale. He exuded the odour of cold sweat and he rubbed at his beard.

  Maria Cruz made her decision. It wasn’t really a decision when she boiled it down. It took a few seconds to summon the energy and she waited until she was confident of success.

  “Help!” she shouted. Her voice croaked and sounded pitifully quiet. “Help!” she repeated, louder this time.

  “Shut up!” Reynolds hissed. He punched her in the face, and then pressed his open palm hard over her mouth and nose. She couldn’t breathe and lacked the strength to struggle against him. He held her in place and she could see from his eyes he wasn’t going to let up until she was dead.

  As her vision faded, Cruz saw a shape looming over her and Reynolds. It was broad and tall, a fusion of grey flesh and alloy plates. She heard the crack of a weapon and felt liquid spill over her. Then, she knew no more.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sergeant Eric McKinney crouched behind a row of floor-standing metal cabinets, his shoulder tight up against the surface. Something hummed quietly in the room beyond, not loud enough to conceal the footsteps of the Vraxar walking across the floor on the other side. The humming was peculiar and at first sounded like it came from within the cabinets. He listened closely - it was coming from somewhere he couldn’t quite pin down.

  McKinney swore inwardly – progress had been easy so far, lulling him into a false sense of security. They’d encountered no hostiles and the routine of advance-secure-advance had taken them across a large section of the underground complex without firing a shot. The map on his HUD used a solid line to demark the comms hub/general area and the CCB prohibited zone. That line was mid-way along the corridor behind him, in which the remainder of the squad gathered.

  “I’ve got movement,” he said, the sound of his voice completely hidden behind his visor. “Sounds like four Vraxar – they’re on the other side of some cabinets in room 94CCB with me.”

  He checked the map overlay once more. There were four exits from this particular room. This row of cabinets ran from north to south near to one of the walls and there was another row at the opposite side of the room. The Vraxar couldn’t see McKinney, nor could McKinney see enough to execute an effective surprise attack. When the stakes were so high, every choice became laden with meaning.

  Then, the footsteps stopped. McKinney held his breath and listened. The visor sensor was more sensitive than his ears, but it didn’t pick up anything he could use to his advantage. In a training exercise, he could have waited it out, or crept away to rejoin his men. It wasn’t an option here.

  “What going on, sir?” asked Corporal Li.

  It was time to act. “Garcia, Roldan, McCall, Katz and Albers, move up,” McKinney ordered. “If I hear a single sound, I’m going to shoot the man responsible.”

  From his periphery, McKinney saw shadows detach from the wall of the corridor fifteen or twenty metres away. The five men crept along in admirable silence until they reached the entrance to the room, where they paused a short distance across from McKinney, looking to him for guidance.

  “What’s that humming?” asked Roldan.

  “Sounds familiar.”

  “I think some of the kit in the room is powered up again,” said McKinney. “We’re going to split – Garcia and Roldan with me. We’ll go left, the others go right. On my command, we come around the cabinets and shoot anything that moves. Rifles only – we’re going to be crowded up and I don’t want any friendly fire deaths.”

  “Move and shoot - those are the plans I like,” said Roldan – a stocky man broader and shorter than the others.

  With his rifle at eye level and the stock held against his shoulder, McKinney crept sideways along the cabinets. He guessed the enemy to be somewhere in the centre of the room, which would make them an easy target unless there was plenty of cover. At the end of the row, he leaned carefully out, feeling Garcia and Roldan crowding in too close behind. He waved them back and withdrew his head before he’d been able to see the entirety of the room.

  “Give me some room,” he warned.

  “Sorry, Sergeant.”

  Before McKinney could attempt another look into the room, he heard the footsteps again. This was followed by an unexpectedly loud crash.

  “They’re pulling over some of the cabinets on the other side of the room,” said Albers.

  “What are they playing at?”

  There were other footsteps, this time coming closer to the west side of the room where the men were hiding. McKinney didn’t know why the Vraxar were pulling the cabinets over and there was no more time to wait.

  “Now. Shoot them.”

  With that, he took three quick steps to the side, taking him away from the cover of the dull grey cabinets. He saw the enemy – five of them rather than four. He took aim at the one furthest away as it pulled at the row of cabinets and knocked another one down. McKinney fired at it in controlled bursts, hitting it between the shoulder blades. It started to fall, blood and fluid ejecting from its chest in an arc. McKinney swung his rifle, seeking his next target.

  Garcia and Roldan came, firing their rifles too. Coils whined and projectiles smashed into the enemy. McKinney was dimly aware of McCall, Katz and Albers a few metres away. McCall was in a crouch and the other two fired over his hea
d.

  The enemy fell quickly, given no time to raise their own weapons. Another sound rose to join the others – this one was a roaring staccato, out of place amongst the combined droning of the gauss rifles. McKinney didn’t recognize the sound at once and he fired his third volley, striking the final Vraxar in the chest and stomach, punching it towards the floor. With the dead alien still in mid-fall, McKinney’s brain registered the presence of an object in the middle of the floor. It was less than waist high and shaped like a truncated pyramid. Looks like a turret he belatedly realised.

  McCall, Katz and Albers went down, their bodies torn to pieces by a hail of fire from the repeater turret the Vraxar had brought into the room. McKinney fired his rifle at the turret, knowing it was useless. Slugs pinged away from the armoured surface of the repeater.

  “Back!” shouted Garcia, diving away into the cover of the cabinets.

  McKinney followed. There was no time to turn, so all he could do was hurl his body to one side. He felt something scream by his neck, the proximity of the repeater slug making a noise like a mosquito as it went past.

  He landed hard on the floor and his rifle was almost dashed from his hands.

  “Down!” he screamed. “Stay the hell down! Repeater turret!”

  The three surviving men hid out of sight, but the Vraxar repeater still fired, strafing left and right with incredible speed. Its projectiles clattered off the cabinets, pushing them slowly towards the wall and leaving a pattern of lumps on the metal where they’d failed to penetrate completely through.

  McKinney huddled close to the ground, waiting for it to stop. “Garcia, Roldan, report.”

  He heard Garcia’s familiar voice. “I’m okay, Sergeant.”

  “Looks like something got me in the arm. Hardly a nick.” said Roldan. “My suit is holding me together.”

  “Are you able to fight?”

  “I can still hold my gun, sir.”