Precursor Revenants (The Precursor Series Book 1)

by Cain Hopwood

  “Make it easy on yourselves lads, clip two carabiners to your pack handle,” he said, then continued pulling himself over to the far side.

  He took a moment to let his shoulders recover, then set down his pack and sighted up and down the canyon. “All clear. Murdoch, you’re next.”

  It didn’t take long before all three of them had made it across, and Skip had the line retrieved. The light was fading fast, and Jon estimated that it was a good half day’s trekking to get up to the escarpment above the redoubt where Gritz’s supply cache would be.

  “Let’s settle down here for the night boys, we’ll start early for that supply cache. As much as I’d like to be eating new rations, I don’t want to die getting to them. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  Two tired grunts were all the reply he got, but both men dragged themselves to their feet and doggedly started setting up the shelter.

  — 31 —

  Jon heard the Galactic flyer before he saw it.

  “Down!” he yelled, pulling the shelter canister off his belt.

  He dropped to the snow, driving the base of the canister into the soft surface. Seconds later Murdoch and Skip threw themselves down beside him and he triggered the shelter.

  In the blink of an eye, a pole extended out of the top of the canister; with a snap a dome shelter inflated around them. The shelter’s adaptive fabric would mimic the snowy surface from the outside, and provide IR shielding.

  “Just in time,” he said as a rumble overhead marked the passage of the flyer.

  Jon flicked through a menu on his heads up and accessed an external camera. The shelter’s cover appeared to turn transparent as the outside imagery fed directly to his datatacts.

  “That’s the biggest one yet,” Skip said. His head was following the departing Galactic flyer.

  Jon frowned. “I don’t remember being told the Marbelites had anything that size. Do you think it might be one of ours? Maybe the no fly zone has been lifted.”

  “Could be, but are you willing to risk it?”

  “No, I’ll wait until we find that cache, then we can hook into what’s left of Gritz’s comms network,” Jon said. “I’d rather check with the colonel before trying to flag down a transport.”

  Skip consulted his wrist comp. “Well, we aren’t far now. The cache is about a click farther up the ridge, probably at the base of that spire.” He pointed uphill from where they were crouching.

  “That would be the place Gritz would choose,” Jon said.

  They had spent the morning working their way along the ridge line that ran behind the redoubt. It had been mostly easy going if a little precarious. But now, up ahead, the end of the ridge was marked by a rock spire, sticking out of the snow like an accusing finger.

  “Come on, it’s not far now,” Jon said. He retracted the shelter and picked himself up. The snow was deep and soft, making the job of getting upright and moving far from easy. Even then, it was slow going.

  “Crap!” Skip said as his ski punched through a snowdrift, stopping him dead. “Couldn’t Gritz have picked an easier place to get to for his cache.”

  Jon pulled Skip out of the drift. “He always goes for defensible. Given how often those Brazilian contras used to pillage our caches, I guess he got sick of being caught wanting.”

  Skip just grunted, then followed in Jon’s tracks.

  By the time they made it to the base of the spire, all three of them were breathing hard, every exhalation producing a cloud of vapor like an old fashioned steam train.

  “Jesus, that’s some view,” Murdoch said. He’d stopped near the spire and was gazing off in the distance. At this height, the valley itself was shrouded in mist, but the view out to the plains beyond, was breathtaking.

  It would have been a dreary day down below, but the tops of the clouds were just stretching up level with the peak, and Jon felt like he was standing on a lighthouse promontory, gazing across a rolling ocean of cloud.

  “I’ve found it,” Skip said. He wasn’t looking at the view, but instead at his instruments. “You were right lieutenant. The cache is just over there.” He pointed at the base of the spire.

  “Please tell me there’s extra rations,” Murdoch said, snapping his eyes from the horizon and looking lustfully where Skip was pointing.

  “I’d be happy with power and comms,” Jon said. “set up the shelter over the spot, let’s see what we have.”

  “Colonel, Lieutenant Moss has just made contact!”

  Colonel Whitfield’s head snapped up from the display table. He’d been reviewing Marbelite patrol patterns, trying to see if there was a way he could get support deep into the mountains without detection. They’d had no contact from Moss for three days, and before contact had been spotty. Moss must be perilously low on supplies by now, so he had the whole unit looking at options.

  He stalked straight through the separator field and into the ops center. The sound hit him like a wall, but he ignored it and went straight to the comms station.

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s coming in on one of Gritz’s relays. AV only I’m afraid,” the comms officer said.

  “No matter, put him on.”

  The officer tapped the screen. A grainy picture from inside a camouflage shelter appeared.

  “Moss, report.”

  “Colonel, we’ve made it to Gritz’s supply drop so we’re out of trouble for now. It was a hairy trip here though.”

  “Did you run into any issues with the locals?”

  “No, we’ve kept well away from them. The landscape though has been a challenge.”

  The colonel pondered this for a moment. If they hadn’t encountered any Marbelite’s, then they had infiltrated deep into what amounted to enemy territory. “What’s your plan from here?”

  “I don’t have anything concrete sir. I’ve been concentrating on keeping us alive and getting to this supply cache. Frankly, I have no idea how we’re going to make the rest of the trip. There’s still a long way to go.”

  “Well, you’ve done well so far. The closer you get to the edge of the no fly zone, the more options we’ll have to help.”

  A commotion at the back of the ops center caught his attention. One of the spindly analysts was chattering and squawking away like a tree full of starlings.

  “What’s its problem?” he asked the translator.

  “This screen is indicating that you have an active assault squad near the Marbelite base of operations.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant Moss’s squad. They’re there to get supplies from Gritz’s abandoned cache.”

  “How did they get there? No flyers have been permitted within a thousand kilometers.”

  “They walked and skied from their previous location.”

  The analyst stopped chattering for a second, presumably in thought. Then it commenced with a staccato series of outbursts.

  “The admiral must be informed. This is an opportunity too important to squander. Instruct your men to stay where they are.”

  “You are here to observe only. You do not issue me with orders.” The colonel said in a tone that silenced the room.

  The translator started to speak, but Colonel Whitfield silenced it with a raised finger. “By all means inform the admiral, but until I hear otherwise from him, my men will continue making their way south as best they can.”

  The colonel turned back to his console operator. Moss’s grainy image was still there, huddled in the shelter.

  “How much of that did you get Moss?”

  “Enough, sir. Look, we have more supplies here than we can carry, so we can loiter for a while if we need to.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Actually sir, Skip was asking for permission to do a little low profile reconnaissance. We don’t feel comfortable getting this close to where Gritz might be held, without at least checking whether he’s alive.”

  “You’re not equipped or manned for a rescue Moss.”

  “I realize that s
ir, but Skip makes a point that knowing what’s in that redoubt, and where Gritz is held, would help any subsequent mission immensely. We’re only talking about a couple of micro observation drones. Gritz has already emplaced them; we’re just activating them.”

  “Very well,” The colonel leaned closer to the screen and lowered his voice. “Just between us humans, I’ve got a feeling the admiral will be issuing orders soon, and that they’ll involve that redoubt. So any extra intel you have on it will probably benefit us all. But, be careful.”

  “Understood sir. We’ll get on it right away. Moss out.”

  “Operations out,” the colonel replied automatically.

  — 32 —

  Jon watched Skip’s finger hovering over the ‘activate’ glyph. “Are you sure they won’t be able to detect them?” he asked.

  “To be completely honest sir, no. Pascale has been flat out on sig-int since we left earth, but we just don’t know enough about Galactic technology to be sure about what they can, and can’t detect. Like us, they use radio, and some kind of subspace communications too. But I’m pretty confident we’ll go unnoticed, the comms setup with these drones is almost all line of sight.”

  “Almost?”

  “Yes. Most of the hops are laser, and I’ve turned off the wireless backups where I can. But the drones will use the occasional burst of wireless to realign the comms lasers.”

  “Okay, Do it,” said Jon.

  Skip tapped the glyph and one by one images started coming in. It looked like three of Gritz’s micro observation drones were still active and in place.

  “What have we got?” Jon asked.

  Skip cocked his head. “It looks like one is placed high above the redoubt. We’ve got a good overall image from it. Another seems to be in the buildings below; it’s providing those shots of the front. The third is on a balcony up on the northern side of the installation.”

  “Are there any observation drones inside the redoubt?”

  “If there are, they’re not responding.”

  “I guess that would have been too easy.”

  Jon and Skip watched the images coming in from the drones for a couple of minutes. It didn’t take long for them to realize that the redoubt was anything but the derelict medieval fortress it looked like from the outside. Every few minutes a craft of some sort flew into, or out of, the massive front gates. Some were obviously local flyers, but there were a few larger ships, and several mean looking fighters. The high view showed a lot of activity inside the redoubt’s walls.

  “Remember those two fighters that were protecting the Aquina back at headquarters,” Skip said, just as one of the sleek ships glided out of the redoubt. “Well, these make those look like fucking biplanes.”

  “I can’t see how the centarch doesn’t know about all this,” Murdoch said. “Doesn’t he run this planet?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a big planet.”

  “Either way I’ve seen enough,” Jon said. “Skip, hand the top and front sparrows off to the operators at base to monitor. I want you to focus on that one on the balcony. If there’s a balcony, there’s a way in. We’ll need to add a couple extra to act as relays, and I want to get one inside.”

  Skip shook his head. “No can do on the handoff lieutenant. Until the fog clears, all we have is a low bandwidth, tight beam satellite feed to operations. It’s barely capable of AV.”

  Jon thought for a couple of seconds. “Okay, leave the high drone, and the one watching the front where they are. Operations can monitor their feeds. We’ll focus on the balcony.”

  Jon keyed open the tac-link. “Moss to operations.”

  “Go ahead Moss.”

  “I’m handing off two observation drones to you for monitoring. We’re going to try and emplace a third into the facility, and we don’t have the manpower to run three drones.”

  “Copy that Moss, be advised that we do not have sufficient uplink bandwidth for full obs-drone control.”

  “I’m aware of that operations. If we need to take control we will. We don’t have the man power to monitor all the feeds.”

  “Understood, is there anything specific you want us to watch for?”

  “Just feed the imagery to the analysts and warn us if things start heating up.”

  “Copy that Moss. Operations out.”

  Jon turned to Skip. “Right, let’s see if there’s a way in.”

  It didn’t take them long to see why Gritz had chosen that particular balcony; it was a lonely spot. Initially they’d been cautious moving the drone, making sure it wouldn’t be seen. But once they looked at the balcony’s floor, they realized that it wasn’t frequented by the redoubt’s inhabitants very often. There was a couple of inches of snow on the floor, and not a footprint to be seen.

  It was a shame really because the view from the balcony would have been spectacular. It looked up the full length of the valley of the five clans. The lights of the villages twinkled below while the setting sun bathed the peaks beyond in a carmine glow. But eventually, after two hours of waiting, someone finally appeared.

  “We’re on,” Jon said as the balcony door slid open. “We have two Marbelites coming through, no others behind them that I can see.”

  Jon had control of one of the micro observation drones. It was about the size of a housefly and was jammed into a dark corner of the balcony’s roof. It had a good view of the door, and now that the door was open, the room beyond.

  Just as the second Marbelite stepped over the threshold, Jon gave Skip the go signal. Skip’s drone was perched on the door’s lintel. He dropped it off the edge just as the second Marbelite passed under, flew it through the door and found a dark corner to hide in.

  “Line of sight is broken, we’ve switched to wireless,” Skip announced.

  “Keep it on max stealth. We need to wait for our opportunity.”

  Jon was watching the two Marbelites on the balcony with an eagle like focus. They were discussing something, and occasionally one would punch the other lightly. They looked like two footballers discussing a game. Jon’s knowledge of Marbelite body language was sketchy, and he knew he couldn’t make assumptions about the discussion. For all he knew, he could have been witnessing Marbelite foreplay.

  “I wish we knew what they were saying,” he said.

  Murdoch tapped the side of his helmet. “Shouldn’t we be getting a translation?”

  “These guys aren’t speaking a form of Galingua, or at least not one we know.”

  “Right. But why do you want to know what they’re saying?”

  “It would give me an idea of which one’s the boss. We want to piggy-back the drone to a Marbelite that will be moving around the whole facility.”

  “Go with the taller one,” Murdoch said after a few moments thought.

  “Why?”

  “In this environment, taller equals stronger, more fit; it’s probably a leader.”

  “Well, that’s as good a reason as any,” Jon said, focussing on the larger of the two Marbelites.

  Jon waited until the tall one turned away. He tagged a baggy leather pouch attached to the creature’s belt, switched his micro drone to max audio stealth, and let it loose.

  The tiny fly like drone dropped out of its hidey-hole and extended its wings as wide as possible, sacrificing visibility for quiet operation. It swooped down, pulling up just as it reached the pouch, and grabbed on.

  “We’re on,” Jon announced. Then he concentrated on moving the tiny drone to the bottom of the pouch, and nestling it out of sight in a leathery crevasse.

  “Not much of a view from there, unless you’re a fan of hairy white asses,” Murdoch said.

  “No, but it’s nicely out of sight. I’d rather not have them discover the drone and lose the element of surprise. With all the patrols they’ve been flying, they’ve got to be thinking they’re nice and safe.”

  Murdoch gave a Confucian nod. “And that will make them careless.”

  With Jon’s drone now only showing visuals
of white fur, the three of them watched Murdoch’s. It was monitoring the balcony at distance, secured to a rock. Its main job was providing the backhaul, line of sight, laser communications for the drones inside. That way, they could minimize wireless comms and maintain maximum stealth.

  The imagery was dark and grainy, but it was good enough to see what the two Marbelites on the balcony were doing. After a few minutes the two finished their conversation and moved back inside.

  “Switching to max stealth, monitor mode,” Jon said.

  The two moved under Skip’s drone just inside the door. “I’ve synced its beacon.” He said.

  The micro drone’s beacon was a randomized, frequency hopping transmission, pitched only a couple of decibels above the ambient environmental radio noise. Without knowing exactly which frequency to listen on, and when, it was virtually indistinguishable from static.

  Of course, in max stealth, and even knowing the frequency timing, the range was measured in tens of meters. But that was all the range they needed to make recovery easier. When stealthed, the insect sized machines could be devilishly hard to find.

  The two Marbelite’s pottered in the room adjoining the balcony for a moment, then they headed off down an open corridor.

  “That’s strange,” Skip said. “One moment I had a strong beacon signal, and the next nothing.”

  “Well, there’s not much range in that mode,” Jon said.

  “Sure, but I can still see them in the corridor, they’re not more than ten meters from my drone.”

  “Malfunction?”

  “Possibly,” Skip said. “Still, not much we can do now, but wait and see if we can pick the beacon up again when they return.”

  Jon nodded. “Right, we could be in for a wait. I’m going to talk to ops; send them the audio we have so far. Maybe someone back there can translate it for us.”

  Jon packaged up the audio capture from the conversation the Marbelites had on the balcony, then opened a tac-link to command. It took a few moments for the connection to establish, which surprised him.