by Jamie Sawyer
P shook its head, barbels shivering.
“Then you’ll need access to the drop-bay,” said Zero. “That sector of the ship is filled with boarders. The Spiral…” She swallowed. “And something else.”
“Go on,” said Feng. “This surely can’t get any worse…”
Zero bit her lip. “The Svetlana has docked with the Defiant.”
Novak watched the scene develop with a cold detachment. “Vasnev has boarded,” he muttered.
“Remember what we said,” I told him. “The mission comes first.”
“Why is Vasnev here?” Lopez asked. “Has she come back for me?”
“Probably,” said Novak. “It is what I would do. Major Vasnev wants to make good her mission. You are value to her, yes?” He waved a hand in the air. “This is all one big mess. Profit must be salvaged from what is left.”
Lopez nodded and wrapped her hand a little tighter around her pistol. “Then let her come. We’ll see what she makes of me.”
Clade Cooper’s final words—his revelation that Secretary Lopez had been behind the mission to Barain-11, and then his transformation into Warlord—echoed in my mind. But there was a time when I could act on that, and it wasn’t now. On another of Zero’s screens, the Aeon vault-ships had come together in a tight formation. The closer proximity seemed to amplify their powers, creating localised time-space disturbances on the scanner-feeds.
“What do we do?” Captain Heinrich asked. I realised, after a moment, that he was directing the question at me.
“Get back into the tanks, Jackals,” I said. “Our sims are in cryo-storage, right?”
Zero nodded. “I’ve decanted four, ready for deployment. Someone will need to escort P across the ship.”
“While that’s true, P,” I said, “we can’t take risks.”
“I’ll do it,” said Ving.
“In your real skin?” I asked.
Ving shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve got anything to lose. We’ll meet you in the drop-bay.”
“I’m coming too,” said Dr Saito. He had his pistol unholstered. “I can lend some additional fire support, and I can manually approve the launch codes.”
“We can’t do that from here?” I asked.
“Not any more,” said Zero. “The launch codes are subject to a Command override.”
Secretary Lopez, I thought bitterly. He was surely safely ensconced in the CIC, or had already launched in an evacuation-pod. He could be another windfall for the Sons of Balash, if they caught him, although he would probably charm or buy his way out of their custody.
“I’ll stay here,” Captain Heinrich said, “and cover the SOC. I would only slow you down.”
The blood loss from Heinrich’s shoulder was significant, and just as colour was leaking across his uniform, it was draining from his face. If I had been a gambler, I wouldn’t have put money on Heinrich pulling through this… To Heinrich’s credit, he didn’t request back-up or complain about his fate. This had changed him, as much as any of us. The old Heinrich had been shed like a dead simulant.
“I should stay too,” said Novak. “Captain is hurt. He cannot do this on his own.”
Heinrich opened his mouth to argue, but lacked either the strength or conviction to argue. He nodded. “That’s probably a good idea,” he said.
“We can follow your progress via the surveillance cameras,” Zero suggested.
The surveillance feeds showed a running battle between the Spiral, and what was left of the Defiant’s security forces. As Zero cycled through locations, it became apparent how badly damaged the ship was. Most of the Sim Ops bays were abandoned, and almost all of the evac-pods had been launched. Like rats fleeing from a sinking ship, the strike-force was running. Captain Heinrich hadn’t even suggested making contact with General Draven, because there was no point. There was no chain of command any more. Quite possibly, this was the biggest rout in all of Alliance history.
My data-ports throbbed in time with the shaking through the Defiant’s hull. Wraith’s cold consciousness grazed my own, and encouraged me onwards.
“Mount up, Jackals.”
“Transition confirmed,” I said. “You read me, Z?”
“Affirmative. Jackals are in the green.”
I pulled myself free from the charging dock, and the combat-suit instantly responded. Feng and Lopez did the same. I activated my mag-locks, prepped my plasma rifle.
“I’ve painted your rendezvous point,” said Zero. “Captain Ving, Dr Saito and P have just left.”
A map appeared on my HUD, and I focused on it. There was the SOC, several decks up, and cryo-storage, where we were located. We’d jumped the length of the Defiant in an instant, avoiding hostile forces. The boarders were mainly located around the portside docking bays, although some had breached the main corridor that formed the ship’s spine. There were still pockets of resistance throughout the ship, but I didn’t know for how long the Alliance forces would be able to hold out. P was currently making good progress through the starboard storage hold, its location indicated by a blip on my bio-scanner.
“Tell Dr Saito and Captain Ving not to die,” I said. “Not until they reach the rendezvous, at least.”
“I’ll pass on the message,” Zero said.
“We’ll attract the Spiral’s attention, and keep them off P’s tail,” I said. “It should keep the hostiles busy.”
“I’ve plotted P’s group a route through the service tunnels,” Zero assured me. “I don’t think the Spiral will find them, unless they’re specifically looking for them.”
“All right. Keep an eye on Novak. He’s vital: if the Spiral or the Sons of Balash reach the SOC, this will be over.”
“He understands,” said Zero.
“California out,” I said. I turned to Lopez and Feng, who had now prepped their weapons and were waiting for me. “Are you both ready for this?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” Lopez answered.
“For sure,” said Feng.
“We’ll use whatever we’ve got to reach the rendezvous, and then the drop-bay. No mercy, no regrets.”
“No mercy,” repeated Lopez, with a grim smile.
“We make as much noise as we can,” I said, “and keep the Spiral off P and Dr Saito. Maximum carnage.”
Feng stroked his plasma rifle. “Now that, I can do.”
On my command, the blast hatch from cryo-storage opened. The corridor outside was already stitched with gunfire, the atmo laden with heavy smoke.
I picked a target and started shooting.
The M125 plasma rifle throbbed through the palms of my combat-gloves.
The Black Spiral undeniably had one thing in their favour: as far as they were concerned, they had won the war. These people had nothing else to live for, so they threw themselves at Alliance forces with the single-mindedness of the Krell Collective. Nothing else mattered, because their plan had succeeded.
Feng and Lopez were on point and focused. We stormed the corridors in a blizzard of plasma.
“Grenade left,” Lopez said.
She pumped her rifle. A hi-ex grenade slammed into the body of an armoured target, at the end of the corridor. The tango fumbled for a split-second, before the explosive detonated. The deck rumbled, warning sirens screeching overhead. Feng put a volley of plasma into more hostiles, ensuring that none would dare follow. The close quarters combat was furious and lethal.
“Ease up on your gunfire,” I said. “We’re approaching the drop-bay.”
My HUD showed that P was just behind us, using an alternative route. I felt its presence in my head, and affirmation that the alien’s group was still alive.
“I’m almost out of charge,” Feng said.
“Catch this,” Lopez replied, tossing him a power cell for his plasma rifle.
Feng deftly caught it. Ejected t
he old cell, and slammed the new one into place.
“You almost look like a professional,” Lopez said. “That was my last cell. You better make it last.”
Feng grinned. “Or what? We all die of the Harbinger virus?”
“I kick your ass when we get back Coreside,” Lopez said.
“It’s encouraging that you even think we’re getting back Coreside…” I said. “Take that corner, Feng.”
“Solid copy.”
I slid back, covering a side corridor with Lopez. She pumped another grenade from her underslung launcher, then paused to watch as it exploded. Several enemy life-signs vanished from my HUD. The hail of shrapnel caused by the frag munition showered us both, but our null-shields neutralised the danger.
“What?” she asked, turning to me. “You’re looking at me weird, ma’am.”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”
Lopez lifted a perfect eyebrow. “It doesn’t feel like nothing. You did say to make some noise.”
“I know. As I said; it’s nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. It wasn’t nothing at all. I toyed with the idea of telling Lopez what Cooper had told me. Would she want to know what her father was, I wondered? He’d been disappointed in her, and her decision to join up with the Simulant Operations Programme. She was very different from him. She was a Jackal. But she didn’t need to know, not yet.
“You sure everything is okay?” she asked.
“I’m sure. Come on, drop-bay is ahead.”
There was an open blast hatch ahead of us. The words PRIMARY DROP-BAY were stencilled on the far bulkhead, glowing brightly through the miasma of smoke and debris that choked the corridor.
Under normal circumstances, the drop-bay was fully automated. Simulants were ferried from cryo-storage into drop-capsules, and then loaded into the waiting launch tubes and fired into space according to the targeting solution provided by the CIC or the SOC. As a result, except for maintenance personnel this sector was out of bounds to most crew. The compartment had the feel of a factory floor to it, with multiple gantries overlooking the tubes, and storage compartments for redundant drop-capsules. The latter resembled metal coffins, waiting to receive corpses. I’d never actually been into this bay, and the place had a creepy vibe about it. Red light strobed the vacant gangways, the ranks of robotic loading arms. Our intrusion seemed to throw the whole bay off. The nearest semi-autonomous arm paused, its single red-lensed eye fixing on me, waldo-grip cycling open and closed in protest.
“Do you copy, Zero?” I asked. No reply. “Feng: are you reading Zero?”
Feng kept his rifle up, covering the many possible hiding places that surrounded us, but answered, “No, ma’am. I lost her signal at the last junction.”
“Marvellous.”
“Do you think it’s the Spiral?” Lopez asked me. “They seem to have a thing for jamming technology.”
“Maybe.”
I panned my rifle over the compartment’s interior, searching for targets. There was heat and motion in here, caused by the robotic loaders, and it was fouling my bio-scanner. But whether the Spiral were disrupting comms or not, they couldn’t stop me from reaching out to P. I detected its aura, moving at the edge of the compartment.
“P’s here,” I said. “Watch our six.”
“Copy that,” said Feng.
“Lopez, overwatch on the entrance.”
“Affirmative.”
There was a thunk, as a service hatch at the end of the bay came open. P uncoiled its bulk from inside the cramped corridor, using all six limbs to pull itself free. Dr Saito followed closely behind, still clutching his gun. Captain Ving was last out. His face was scrunched in disgust, and he gasped for air as the trio emerged.
“Everything went to plan, I take it?” I asked.
“No hostile contacts,” Ving confirmed, “but in those tight passages, the fish stinks.”
“You get used to it,” I said.
Dr Saito swept the drop-bay with his pistol. “Is the area secure?”
“Enough,” I said. “We took out several hostiles on the way down here. The boarders aren’t very organised. This feels like an attack of opportunity, rather than a directed operation.”
Dr Saito gave a brisk nod. “What with the loss of Warlord, the Spiral’s leadership is lacking as well.”
“Could be,” I said. “Fall in behind me. The control console is this way.”
With Feng still covering the main gangway, and Lopez standing overwatch, I escorted the team across the drop-bay. The compartment was still in darkness, and my bio-scanner threw error messages back at me. The deck rumbled again as we made our way to the control console. Dr Saito reached for a safety rail, pausing while the vessel took the vibration.
“That felt like more than a ship docking…” Ving muttered. “I think we got hit.”
My suit-lamp illuminated the manual launch control console. It looked beyond the understanding of most Navy personnel, let alone a Science Officer specialising in xeno-biology.
“So, Saito, operating the launch programme of an Alliance Navy warship is another of your many skills?” I asked.
“One of several personal interests,” Dr Saito said. He didn’t look at me, but instead wiped his hand over his smock, then found a combined DNA and palm-print reader. Frowning to himself, he put his hand on the scanner. “The Watch has many faces,” he said, as he worked.
P monitored the doctor’s progress, the antenna that sprouted from its backplate writhing softly.
“This is just like the Vektah Minor drop, P,” I said, my rifle on my hip. “Straight down the pipe.”
“I want you to take care down there.”
“Of course I am. You’re one of us, P. A Jackal.”
P touched a clawed hand to the Jackal-head marking on its forehead.
“We’ll mop up the Spiral on the ship,” I said. “Once we’re done, we’ll send a dropship down to the surface, as quickly as we can. Just hold tight.”
“What do you mean?”
It struck me, in that instant, that something was wrong here. Something was very wrong. P had been trying to shield its mind from me. Wraith’s alien presence crackled around P, as though she were trying to communicate with me, but P was restricting her from doing so.
Dr Saito interrupted the moment by slapping his pistol down on the launch terminal. “I think we’re ready, P. I’ve worked around the command restrictions.” A launch tube at the far end of the bay hissed open, hydraulics whining, pressurised atmosphere escaping in a white mist. “The automated loader has prepped a drop-capsule for that tube.”
“I only wish that we could—”
Dr Saito’s words were cut off, as a bullet whined past my head, and sliced straight through his stomach.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE MISSION COMES FIRST
I immediately went into combat mode.
More shots peppered our position, and I grabbed Dr Saito’s forearm. We went prone behind a metal crate. The bay illuminated with gunfire, as rounds struck metalwork and slammed into the deck. The sound of multiple weapons firing on full-automatic overlapped.
“P, get down!” I ordered.
P rolled into cover, leaping over an open drop-capsule, avoiding injury. Ving dropped too, although I couldn’t see whether he’d been hit or not.
Dr Saito immediately began to hyperventilate. Beads of sweat popped up all across his face, and he shook violently. Both hands went to the wound in his gut, fingers interlinked over the injury.
“You’ve been hit, Doc,” I said.
“You’re telling me,” said Dr Saito, through gritted teeth.
“Stay still and don’t panic.”
Dr Saito’s Sci-Div smock was already heavily bloodstained, red pouring between his fingers. He looked at me with glazed, distant eyes; an expression that I had seen too many times before. His grimace, teeth flecked with blood, was almost as familiar.
“I… I’m…” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”
More gunfire sprayed the area. The attackers were using heavy weapons; I recognised the electric whirr of rotary cannons, the noise the barrel makes when it spins. Panning my helmet across the bay, I picked out three targets.
“What’ve we got?” Ving said, above the roar of the guns.
“Multiple shooters at the end of the bay. Big guns.”
“Anti-simulant guns?”
I nodded, although I knew that Ving couldn’t see me from his position. “Likely. They’re loaded for bear.”
“Ain’t that great,” said Ving, sucking his teeth. “Just when I was beginning to think we might get out of this alive…”
“I wouldn’t ever go that far,” I said, avoiding looking down at Dr Saito. His back was against the cargo crate, but he’d slid down to the deck now, and was gasping for breath. “Not where the Jackals are concerned.”
“Who’s shooting?” Feng said. He was further away from the attackers, covering the entrance hatch with Lopez.
Both Lopez and Feng’s bio-signs were stable, and neither had been hit. I picked out their positions maybe thirty metres away, concealed behind robotic loaders. They were in cover, for now.
“Unknown hostiles,” I said. “At least three.”
“More inbound,” said Lopez. “I’m reading multiple tangos approaching the hatch.”
“Give me an estimate.”
“Thirty,” said Lopez.
I checked my plasma rifle. The cell was almost depleted; I had maybe a half-dozen pulses left. My Widowmaker sidearm had perhaps six shots left.
“Ammo check, troopers?” I asked the Jackals.
“Three pulses,” said Lopez.
Feng swallowed over the comm. “Twelve.”
“What about you, Ving?”
“A full clip,” said Ving.
He popped up above the lip of his crate and fired a volley of shots into the dark. He was chased back into cover by the enemy’s response. Explosive rounds impacted the console behind him, noisily demolishing the panel.