The Eternity War: Dominion

by Jamie Sawyer

  I nodded. “I think so.” I felt my gut tightening, my data-ports tingling. The safety of the simulator-tank was calling out to me. “But these ships: they all look different.”

  All of the ships were ancient, and appeared long-abandoned, but they were of different designs. They were wrecks, reminders of a war that had been fought millennia ago. Some were torn open, trailing their entrails across space. Others were silent and dark, their structures tombs for whatever alien species had once crewed them. Ship designs varied from the obviously machined—such as the Shard warships—through to others that were pseudo-organic. Some had been rendered down to little more than individual modules, while others were bigger than the Valkyrie.

  “It’s a starship graveyard,” Lopez offered.

  “We do this in Norilsk,” Novak growled. “We kill a ganger, then hang up his body. We gut him, maybe cut him some.” Despite the subject matter, Novak’s manner was very matter-of-fact. “We put this man on edge of gang territory. Leave to bleed out. Is warning to visitor, not to come here.”

  “That’s not very helpful, Private,” Heinrich rebuked. “I hardly think we can judge the actions of the Aeon—an ancient alien intelligence—against those of a petty street gang. It’s not a useful comparison.”

  Novak shrugged. “Is not meant to be useful, Captain. Is fact. Aeon are here, hidden in this place. Are you sure they want to have visitor?”

  “It doesn’t matter what they want,” Captain Heinrich said, dismissing Novak’s concerns. “I want eyes on that planet, and as much intelligence as you can gather.”

  Commander Dieter nodded. “We have a full complement of surveillance probes.”

  “Then dispatch them,” Heinrich said.

  “Probes away,” Commander Dieter replied.

  “Aye, ma’am,” said the operations officer. “Probes launched.”

  The Valkyrie’s probes were equipped with miniature jump drives, and we watched as they picked their way through the tangle of debris, then made hard burn towards the planet. They began to broadcast their findings immediately.

  The probes could do no more than explore a fraction of Carcosa’s surface, but they had been programmed to make planetfall at specific points, to give a wide overview of the world’s condition. No matter where they had dropped, they sent back more or less the same data. Cold, high pressure, trace atmospherics, featureless ice-plains. The entire world presented a face of chilling indifference.

  “Is that surface ice?” asked Zero. She was nervous, and I could tell. When she got nervous, she talked. A lot. “That means water! How is there water down there? Being that close to a neutron star should make that place completely uninhabitable. Did you know that neutron stars have about the same mass as Sol? Within a package that small? I’d expect Carcosa to be a pulsar-class planet. That would mean intense surface pressure, and, well…”

  She looked around the table, hopefully, although no one else seemed to share her enthusiasm.

  “This could be some sort of planetary engineering,” suggested Dr Saito. “Perhaps the Aeon have manufactured this location. Deliberately cloaked it, somehow, then xenoformed it according to their own requirements…”

  “It looks like one big snowball,” said Ving. “So where are the damned Aeon?”

  “Are you detecting any communications data?” Captain Heinrich asked. “Radio waves, tight beam, anything that would suggest a technical civilisation?”

  Commander Dieter shook her head. “I’m not reading anything.”

  “Maybe we’re too late,” Lopez said. “Maybe the Aeon are long gone.”

  More images scrolled by. Empty ice-plains that seemed to roll on for ever, beneath a still, cloud-filled sky…

  A chime sounded across the CIC. One of the probes had dropped into a basin. That was shallow, but had a radius of several kilometres. A series of white pylons rose up around the edges of the depression. Those were barely visible against the consistent white of the surrounding terrain, but the probe’s sensors picked them out. Thirteen structures, each almost a kilometre tall, arranged in a rough circle. Thinner at the tip, and much wider at the base, the pylons appeared to be half buried in the ice.

  “Concentrate the probes on that location,” Captain Heinrich said.

  All probes in the vicinity focused on the site. It was eerily still, abandoned.

  “P would probably know what this is,” Zero said.

  “Your fish can’t help us now,” Ving groaned.

  Captain Heinrich made a sound at the back of his throat, like an anxious child. He circled the holo, taking in the view from every angle.

  “Still no radio or comms data,” Commander Dieter said. “No readings at all from those structures.”

  “We should investigate, sir,” I suggested.

  Captain Heinrich paused. Breathed in and out several times, no doubt seeking to repress the burgeoning sense of failure.

  “All right,” Heinrich said. “Commander, order the probes to set a landing beacon. All simulant squads, ready for immediate deployment. Prepare for drop-capsule insertion.”

  “Transition confirmed,” I said. “Jackals, sound off.”

  The Jackals variously called in, voices bright and clear over the comm-network. Phoenix Squad did the same. My Pathfinder combat-suit booted up, and I opened my eyes to the waiting darkness. The insides of the drop-capsule were cramped, hot and claustrophobic. My arms were crossed over my chest, equipment strapped across my body. Still, it felt damned good to be back in a simulant.

  “Hoo-ah!” yelled Ving, over the comm-link. “Come get some, people!”

  Phoenix Squad echoed the Army war-cry—hoo-ah!—and my suit compensated by dampening the volume. Lopez’s vitals spiked in annoyance.

  “Do we have to take the same drop as them?” she asked.

  “I don’t think we have a choice,” said Feng.

  Novak snorted. “Every elevator goes down, yes?”

  Zero’s voice popped into my earbead. “That’s a positive transition on all operators. Readings are in the green.”

  “Copy that,” I said. “Command, we are ready to drop.”

  “Confirm that,” said Commander Dieter.

  My helmet was buckled into place—essential for use of the drop-capsule—and graphics popped up on the HUD. Processed atmosphere filled my suit, and I felt the prickle of apprehension run over my skin. The safety harness holding me inside the capsule automatically tightened.

  “Permission to launch,” said Captain Heinrich. Obviously, it had to be him to authorise the drop.

  A slight pause, then a voice from the CIC: “Launching in three… two… one…”

  In unison, nine drop-capsules fired from the Valkyrie’s drop-bay, and we launched towards Carcosa.

  Each capsule was equipped with a thruster unit and acted as a one-man spacecraft, with a networked AI whose sole function was to safely get us to the surface. All flight was undertaken by the onboard navigation systems, and we just held tight until we hit the ground. The capsules dropped into the planet’s gravity-well, then punctured the swirling mauve clouds of Carcosa’s upper atmo. We took a drop straight down the pipe. It was almost textbook.

  My capsule captured new intelligence as I fell, and fed that back to me via my HUD and my suit’s neural-link. I focused on what mattered—satisfying myself that there were no local threats—and sent the rest up the chain to the SOC.

  “Do you read me, Zero?” I asked.

  “I copy, Jenk,” she replied.

  “Nothing new?”

  “Nothing significant,” Zero confirmed. “Your capsule’s sensors confirm the results from the probes.”

  Feng sighed over the joint comm-network. “Damn.”

  “All this way for nothing, huh?” Ving asked.

  “Keep the channel clear,” Heinrich rebuked. “I want to ensure we aren’t contaminating the theatre.”

  “What is to contaminate?” Novak bickered. “There is nothing out here.”

  It was tough
to argue with the Russian’s assessment. Carcosa was a bleak, bleak planet. Plains of ice spread in every direction, lit by the planet’s dead star. Everything was a bizarre white, and the landscape almost glowed. The clouds were grey-purple, reflecting the light generated by the planet beneath.

  “This just keeps getting better,” Ving said. Phoenix Squad muttered in agreement. “I knew this was a bad idea. I fucking knew it.”

  Atmospheric readings scrolled across my HUD. I was no scientist, but even I could tell that nothing was going to breathe the mix of methane, exotic gases and complex carbons that filled Carcoca’s atmosphere.

  “If the suits breach on the surface,” Zero said, “even in a sim, you’ll likely asphyxiate within seconds.”

  “All troopers are to remain buttoned up throughout the deployment,” Captain Heinrich ordered.

  “We’d have been better reinforcing the fleet,” said a trooper from Phoenix Squad.

  “Fuck yeah,” said another. “Phoenix Squad, on the force. At least then we’d get to kill us some fish heads…”

  Ving sucked his teeth noisily. “The Phoenixian loves to kill some fishes, that’s for sure.”

  “Is it normal to speak about yourself in the third person, Captain?” Lopez said.

  “The Phoenixian loves himself some ass, as well,” said Ving. I sensed his leer even over the link. “Of the political variety, especially.”

  “I’ve got a fix on the ruins,” I said. “Prep for landing.”

  The chronometer at the corner of my HUD—displaying the mission timeline—had started to twitch. It appeared to be jumping back and forth in time, sporadically, unevenly.

  “Anyone else experiencing system fluctuations?” I asked.

  There were words of agreement across the link, from both squads.

  “Your systems are drifting out of synch with the Valkyrie’s,” Zero said. “It… it seems to be getting worse the closer you’re getting to the surface.”

  “Any idea what’s happening?” I asked, suspecting that Zero would have at least a theory.

  She didn’t disappoint. “This could be a time-fractal,” she said.

  “What the hell is a ‘time-fractal’?” Lopez queried. “And why are you only raising it now, Zero?”

  “It’s very interesting, really,” Zero said. “Science Division hasn’t actually observed the effect, not directly, but the neutron star could account for the spatial disturbance.”

  “Then why’s it getting worse the closer we are to Carcosa?” Feng asked.

  “All of this is hypothetical,” said Zero. “We’re talking quark displacement, which might interfere with the space-time quantum flow…”

  “You had me at ‘hypothetical’,” I said. “Fill us in when we extract, Z.”

  “Will do.”

  Unless this was a deliberate response to our presence. Maybe it was an effect caused by the Aeon. P had suggested that the xenos had access to such a technology, but I hadn’t been able to ask further questions. I reached out with my mind, searching for the connection with P, but got no answer. Once again, I sincerely wished that P was with us.

  The Valkyrie’s probe had planted among the ruins. Half buried in the snow, the visual beacon glowed cherry red, contrasting with the crisp white of the surrounding landscape. With no other transmissions to foul the broadcast, it would’ve been detectable across most of the continent. Guided by the probe, the drop-capsules fired thrusters, and started to shed their outer layers. Pieces of friction-burnt debris broke away, and I felt the pod slowing down. The retro-thrusters kicked in as we closed on the landing site.

  “It’s started to snow,” said Feng.

  “Great,” said Lopez. “Now we can’t see shit.”

  A bright chemical drizzle fell from the violet clouds, throwing everything into a bright light. Visibility hadn’t been great to start with, but decreased to almost nil in the backwash of the landing. For what it was worth, the “snow” did contain some water, but was also composed of a dozen other trace materials that would almost certainly kill a simulant, and would definitely be fatal to an unaugmented human.

  The inner layer of the drop-capsule came free. Pieces of smoking metal showered the landing zone. Then the safety harness unlocked, and my EVAMP kicked in. I took control of my own descent, guided my armour down to the surface. The others did the same. We were somewhere in the centre of the basin, surrounded by the pylons.

  “We have a successful landing,” I said. “Adopt defensive formation, Jackals.”

  “Phoenix Squad too,” Ving echoed.

  By the numbers, Phoenix Squad and Jenkins’ Jackals deployed back to back. Plasma rifles up, targeting software live. Ready to confront whatever was waiting for us.

  “Run a bio-scan, full amplification.”

  “No returns on the scanner,” Feng confirmed.

  “Same here,” said Lopez.

  “Nothing,” grunted Novak.

  I gazed up at the pylons. Despite the developing storm—which seemed to have come from nowhere—the structures were still visible. Someone, or something, had made those things. Dr Locke’s intelligence had been right. The landscape felt alive, in a way that I couldn’t explain. Call it a sixth sense, soldier instinct, whatever: there was an echo of something out here. I swallowed back uneasiness. Carcosa’s bizarre surface was constantly changing. Shapes seemed to shift in the blizzard, forming and reforming. I tried to dismiss the effect as just a trick of the mind, something caused by the unusual conditions. But that wasn’t so easy. My skin had started to prickle, my heart throbbing a little faster.

  “That’s a negative on targets,” said Ving. “The area is secure.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” I muttered back.

  “Something… doesn’t feel right,” Lopez said.

  “Still no life-signs,” Feng said.

  “Spread out,” ordered Ving. “Phoenix Squad, left flank. Jackals, go right. Move on the structures.”

  I activated my EVAMP. The thruster pack fired, and I managed a short bounce. My boots left deep imprints in the snow when I landed. After a series of controlled jumps, I was at the base of a pylon. Around me, the rest of the strike team did the same—the brilliant blue flares of EVAMPs barely visible through the thickening snowstorm.

  I got a better look at the pylons. They were enormous—stretching into the sky—and composed of a white, almost crystalline material. That seemed to take on an iridescent glow, reflecting the light of Carcosa’s star.

  “Zero, I’m getting a power reading off this structure,” I said.

  There was no answer, but I started an analysis through my neural-link anyway. Even that action felt sluggish, weirdly delayed. The chronometer on my HUD shifted erratically.

  “Sound off, Jackals!” I called.

  “We’re here,” said Lopez.

  “What’s happening?” Feng asked, voice brittle with anxiety. Novak followed him, his hard eyes scanning the white for something to kill.

  “Jackals, form up on me,” I ordered. “Ving, do you read?”

  Through the squall, Phoenix Squad was now invisible, and there was no response over the comm. I tried another channel.

  Above me, the pylon rippled with light.

  “… everywhere!” came Ving’s voice, so panicked that it was barely recognisable. “Weapons free! Fire on… Fishes, here…”

  Static punctuated his communication. I thought that I saw a flare of plasma—accompanied by a distant, atmospherically warped whump, whump—somewhere on my left flank. Screams started over the comm-link, but the noise sounded all wrong. It was the echo of ghosts.

  “Could this be Zero’s time-fractal shit?” Lopez said, her rifle up to her face-plate now.

  “Whatever it is,” Feng said, “here they come!”

  A phantom emerged from the storm, and suddenly took shape as a Krell primary-form. I caught a flash of an ornate bio-suit, the blur of taloned limbs, as the xeno sprinted towards me. There was barely time to respond as the c
reature closed the distance. I brought up my rifle, fired once. The body exploded, sailed past me.

  “There are more!” Feng yelled.

  Another Krell appeared. This was a secondary-form, equipped with a boomer bio-cannon. The xeno’s mouth was open in a pitched cry, and its carapace was layered with ice. The Krell didn’t like the cold, the snow, and this creature looked as though it had been on Carcosa for a long, long time.

  I swung my rifle around, squeezed the trigger again. The xeno vanished beneath a hail of plasma bolts.

  “Jesus Christo!” Lopez gasped. “There are hundreds of them! How did we miss them?”

  More Krell. Running, screaming, dying. My scanner was filled with targets, brimming with hostiles as they emerged from the snow. We’d landed in the centre of the basin, and there had been no life-signs at all. Yet here they were, en masse, a virtual horde of bodies. The world was suddenly and inexplicably full of threat. Shapes danced through the storm.

  “Fall back!” I ordered. “Regroup at the base of the pylon!”

  Plasma rifles rippled to my left, to my right. Phoenix Squad were firing grenades at monstrous things that lurched through the snow.

  “Lieutenant Jenkins is gone!” Ving screamed, over the comm.

  “I’m still here,” I said, as I laid down covering fire with my plasma rifle. I think I hit something, but as the plasma pulse made contact the target just disappeared.

  “Extracting, extracting…” someone else added.

  The combat-suit’s battlefield intelligence package was filled with contradictory results. Lopez was dead, extracted. Then her vitals were blazing bright, as though she was in the midst of a firefight.

  It was at this point I realised something.

  The Krell weren’t attacking. They weren’t directing any fire at us at all.

  “Cease fire!” I shouted. “All troopers, hold fire!”

  A Krell primary scrambled and raced past. It was so close that I caught my reflection on the thing’s deep, dead eyes. I read something there. Panic. The Krell were not just frightened, but terrified. They swarmed past, almost through us. Racing away from something emerging from the storm. Some stumbled on all six limbs, leaping, caterwauling. They bounded over one another in their singular focus to escape…