Starflake (T'aafhal Legacy Book 3)

by Doug Hoffman

  “I don't know, if creatures of some sort lived here they wouldn't want dangerous stuff just laying around.”

  “Aliens ain't people, Bubba. Don't expect them to act like people.”

  The squad comm circuit clicked. “Davis, Walker, quit lollygagging and get the hell up here.”

  “Aye, aye, Gunny,” the two replied, hustling along the shuttle's flank to join the rest of the squad. On arrival they saw the others examining a gray panel embedded in the transparent wall. On the panel were square pastel colored lights.

  “Should we push some of these buttons, Gunny?” asked Bosco, standing next to the object in question.

  “I doesn't look like it's gonna open on its own,” the Gunny answered.

  “Hey, let Brains poke the buttons, he likes touching stuff.”

  “Shut up, Grits, and let Bosco get on with it.”

  “Am trying blue button, like color around the entrance when we landed,” the Russian announced. He reached out and poked the button with a single large digit.

  In front of the assembled Marines a large rectangle appeared, embedded within the transparent material of the bay's interior wall. It glowed that same color blue as the bay's entrance had when the shuttle approached. The rectangle was three meters tall and five wide, its lower edge flush with the docking chamber's floor. The material in the center of the glowing rectangle crinkled and began to fold outward, melting away before their eyes.

  “It looks like it's melting,” exclaimed Fanni.

  “Look sharp, people,” the Gunny commanded. “This thing is opening up.”

  The transparent material continued to shrink away, like cellophane under a blowtorch, until the entire area contained by the softly glowing blue rectangle was clear. In front of them was a bridge that spanned the three meter gap between the crystalline walls of the parking garage and the interior structure. The bridge had extended while the opening in the wall was forming. It led to a balcony that encircled the silvery-white interior structure. The balcony had no hand rail and wrapped around the outside of the structure, disappearing around both sides. Large open doorways could be seen leading to dark interior spaces, including one directly in front of the bridge.

  “Shuttle One, are we a go?”

  “Roger that, 1st Squad. You are a go to enter the interior.”

  “All right, Marines. You heard the man. Cross the bridge in twos: Inuksuk, DeSilva, Ben-Ezra, and Carter, go left; Boskovitch, Takala, Tseriteli, and Singh go right; Walker, Davis, and Smith, you're with me up the middle. Team leaders send recon drones ahead. Go!”

  The Marines quickly moved across the short bridge, Inuksuk's fireteam moving to the left along the balcony, Bosco's to the right. Once they were across the Gunny's team crossed, temporarily stacking on either side of the opening as she released a softball sized reconnaissance drone. The Gunny motioned to her fire team and they slipped inside the alien building, following the drone.

  * * * * *

  The interior structure was roughly half a kilometer in diameter, a multifaceted column a bit over a kilometer and a half in circumference with an interior area of almost two hundred thousand square meters. Fortunately, the interior was mostly open space, like a warehouse floor interrupted only by support columns and a few scattered objects. The Gunny's fireteam advanced cautiously until they came to a large opening in both floor and ceiling that extended to levels above and below.

  “Shuttle One, we have reached the center of the structure. There is a shaft, approximately twenty meters across, that appears to run the length of the spire. Over.”

  “We copy, Gunny. Any signs of habitation?”

  “That's a negative, the place looks like an abandoned warehouse, at least on this level. Permission to send scouts to check the other floors?”

  “Granted, drones first and video on.”

  “Roger that. Break. Bosco, next entrance your team on me. Inuksuk, finish surveilling the circumference.” Turning to her own team she pointed to a ramp that led to the next level. “Walker, Davis, take the ramp to the floor above this one and check it out.”

  “Aye, aye, Gunny,” Grits replied. He and Brains turned and jogged toward the ramp, both launching recon drones of their own.

  “Bosco, when you find a ramp down to the next lower level take it.”

  “Roger that, Gunny.”

  Having deployed the rest of the squad, the Gunny turned to Bill “Beau” Smith, the remaining member of her fireteam, and said, “Let's go see if there is anything in one of the crates that are sitting around here.”

  “Oui, Gunny,” the former legionnaire replied.

  Members of the Légion Etrangère were not French, except for the officers, so why Smith often replied to commands in French was a mystery—maybe from force of habit. This was why his squadmates nicknamed him Beau, after an old movie character called Beau Geste. Of course, his actual nationality was a mystery as well, the Gunny really didn't care. On an alien space station, 150 light-years from Earth, no one cares where you came from, she thought, as long as you do the job when the balloon goes up.

  Flight Deck, Shuttle One

  “Wilson, keep your eyes on the video feed from Walker and Davis; Taylor, do the same for Bosco's team,” JT ordered the two weapons operators. “Chief, watch for signs of movement from the structure in front of us.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  “Peggy Sue, Shuttle One.”

  “Go, Shuttle One.”

  “It looks like the structure, or at least this part of it, is uninhabited. I am going to join the Gunny inside.”

  “Roger, Shuttle One. We copy. Just remember you are in light armor if something nasty does pop up.”

  “I'll hide behind someone bigger, I promise.” JT smiled at that thought. While he never took unnecessary risks—he was too good a soldier for that—he also believed that nothing could replace having an in person view of a situation. Particularly if you were the mission commander. Besides, this was his fourth alien space station. Sooner or later one of these things had to prove non-hostile. Right?

  “Batten the hatches once I'm outside, Chief. And be ready to make a hasty exit if we come beating feet back across the bridge. Your call sign will remain Shuttle One. I'm now Ice Castle.”

  “Aye, Sir. We'll cover you.”

  Chapter 13

  Walker & Davis, Ascending

  Nearing the top of the ramp to the next level, the two Marines crouched down and let their recon drones make a quick sweep of the area. The up ramp ended in a rectangular opening set flush with the deck itself. As the drones circled the ramp entrance in an ever-widening spiral, light strips in the ceiling came on, one by one.

  “The lights must be on some kind of motion sensor.”

  “Figured that out by yourself did you, mate?”

  “What I haven't figured out is why they call you Brains.”

  “Because I'm smart.”

  “As smart as Dr. Ogawa?”

  “Smarter than you.”

  “Shit.”

  “Smarter than shit as well. You ready?”

  “Roger that. Going left.”

  “Going right.”

  The pair moved to the surface of the next deck, facing different directions. Each advanced until they took cover behind a ceiling support—not that the slim columns provided any real cover for the bulky armored Marines.

  “Clear!” shouted Grits.

  “Clear.” Brains answered. “I've got nothing on IR or UV.”

  “Me either, no EMI, no nothing.”

  The recon drones continued their widening sweep, tripping more lights as they moved. Eventually the walls of the tower were illuminated and the little robots halted, awaiting new orders.

  “Gunny, Davis.”

  “Go, Davis.”

  “This floor looks clear, just like the one you are on.”

  “Roger that. Bosco reports no contact on the floor below. Continue going up until you hit something different, and be careful.”

 
“Copy that, we're moving.”

  “Looks like there's a ramp to my right, Bubba.”

  “Coming to you.”

  Brains passed behind Grits and the two proceeded to the next up ramp. They repeated the same procedure as on the previous ramp, sending their recon drones ahead to scout for trouble. Squatting at the top of the ramp, Grits resumed their conversation.

  “What do you think of Keti?”

  “Tseriteli? Why, do you fancy her?”

  “I guess, is that what you Brits call liking a girl?”

  “You have a better word, Yank?”

  “Guess not. Do you think I have a chance with her?”

  “Haven't the foggiest, mate.”

  “I was thinkin', me being from Alabama and her from Georgia we might hit it off.”

  “What? She's from Georgia the country, not Georgia the state, you redneck hillbilly.”

  “There's more than one Georgia? Well that would explain why her accent didn't sound right.”

  “You are a total wanker, Yank. Besides, she could break you in half.”

  “Hey, I like my women with a bit of meat on their bones. I find full figured gals much more attractive than anorexic model types. Getting amorous with one of them is like jumping on a sack full of sticks. And don't get uppity with me, you limey prick. I was just askin' your opinion.”

  “I'm not sure it matters what type you're attracted to, a bird either likes you or she doesn't.”

  “So you think there's a chance?”

  Brains shook his head, a motion unseen by his teammate.

  “Keep thinking happy thoughts and keep your eyes open. Going right.”

  “Going left.”

  Gunny Acuna's Team

  “I'm coming to you,” JT called as he neared the Gunny. She was standing next to a large opening in the floor that was mirrored by a hole in the ceiling above it. Inuksuk's fire team had finished their reconnoiter of the exterior balcony and rejoined the Gunny, forming a lose defensive perimeter. Though JT's armored figure was quite impressive, he was dwarfed by the gray giants around him—Marines in heavy armor were more like walking tanks than infantry.

  The head Marine turned to face the newcomer.

  “Welcome to the party, Sir.”

  “So where are we at, Gunny.”

  “Walker and Davis are just entering the twelfth level above us and Boskovitch's team is on level fifteen of what they estimate as seventeen levels below us. Still no signs of life or habitation.”

  “What happens beyond the top and bottom levels?”

  “It looks like the nature of the internal layout changes. There's a gap between this stack of open warehouse-like floors and different construction above and below. I planned to halt at the boundaries and reassess our position.”

  “Sounds good.” JT noticed two of the human Marines working to remove the side panel of a nearby container. The larger bulk of Cpl. Inuksuk looked on with interest.

  “What's with the crate?”

  “Don't know yet, Lieutenant. At first we thought they were packing containers or something similar, just sitting around, but it turns out that they are joined to the deck. Smith and DeSilva are trying to gain access to the insides without doing too much damage to the container itself.”

  As the Gunny was speaking Vinny managed to get the heavy blade of his Woodman's Pal inserted under the lip of the container's side cover. For use in situations like this one a number of the old time Marines carried a Pal—a multipurpose tool that functioned as a combination machete, axe, and pruning knife. The cover popped off and fell to the floor with a loud metallic clatter.

  “Shit!” Vinny exclaimed.

  “That did it,” Beau added unnecessarily.

  “I could watch you primates work all day,” Inuksuk said with mock solemnity. Peering more closely at the container's interior the bear snorted. “It's full of colored glass tubes.”

  “Yeah, and Vinny broke a couple getting the lid off.”

  “You wanted it open, its open,” Vinny snapped. “If you wanted careful you should have sent to the ship for some engineers.”

  “You tell them, DeSilva,” Zippy chimed in. “Marines are paid to break things.”

  “Belay the chatter, you bunch of comedians.” The Gunny and JT moved over to the now open container for a closer look. “Inuksuk's right, it looks like it's full of bendy glass tubes with colored light running through them. Some kind of optical circuitry?”

  “Could be,” JT replied, reaching inside to retrieve a piece of the tubing that Vinny had accidentally snapped off. He was the only member of the party whose gloved hands were small enough to reach inside. “The tubes are solid, could be some form of optical waveguide.” He slipped the broken piece into a pocket for later analysis. “Send detailed video of the guts to the ship, maybe they can figure out what it is.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Walker & Davis, Top Floor of the Warehouse

  Emerging from the ramp to the top of the warehouse structure, Walker and Davis assumed back to back defensive positions while scanning their surroundings. This level was as open and deserted as all the others—more open in fact. All the other levels had ceilings roughly four and a half meters above their floors. This level was uncovered.

  Thirty meters above the top level was another structure, seemingly held up by two thin curved ribbons. The ribbons started on either side of the central shaft opening and rose in matching left-handed spirals to the structure above, completing three and a half turns while covering the gap. A delicate double helix connecting one structure to the other.

  “Why do I feel like I've got a skyscraper hovering above my head?” asked Brains.

  “Because you do?”

  “Yeah, the gravity may be only a third of standard but that thing above us could weigh a million tonnes or more.”

  “No sweat, Bubba. You think those two ribbons are foot ramps?” The objects in question were only a meter and a half wide and, like all the balconies and ramps encountered so far, had no handrails.

  “There's only one way to find out, mate.” Davis changed comm channels. “Gunny, Davis, we've reached the top floor, no sign of any activity, over.”

  “Copy that, Davis. What's above your position?”

  “There is another structure about thirty meters above this one. There are what look like access ramps leading up to it.”

  There was a brief pause while the Gunny and Lieutenant conversed.

  “Davis, Lt. Taylor. Can you reach the next structure safely?”

  “We'll be exposed on the way up, but there don’t seem to be any unfriendlies about. We can give it a go, Sir.”

  “Roger that. Let us know when you reach the next structure. Taylor out.”

  “You just had to mention the ramps, didn't you? It's like a hundred feet up there on a twisty ribbon with no side rails.”

  “Afraid of heights, mate?”

  “I just don't want to get into a firefight standing on a narrow strip of curvy metal fifty feet in the air with no cover nearby.”

  “Then we'll just have to make the ascent quickly.”

  “Fine, but I'm taking point, genius.”

  “No problem, but I'm going first on the way back down.”

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later they reached the top of the ribbon and found themselves standing in a small, narrow room. Beyond the ramp exit there was a door, but there was no obvious way of opening it.

  “I don't see any buttons or a handle, what should we do?”

  “We either have to open the door or go back down, and I don't think that would make the Lieutenant very happy. Improvise.”

  “Improvise? OK.” Grits steadied himself by placing a hand on either wall, then he raised his right leg and kicked the door. The door deformed, crumpling where his armor encased foot landed. A second kick sent it flying. Beyond the now open threshold was a curved balcony.

  “Very smooth, Grits. If there is anyone home they certainly know we've arriv
ed.”

  “Hey, you wanted the door open, its open. You didn't say to not break anything.”

  “Right, so move your ass. I don't like standing inside this bloody closet.”

  The balcony curved around the center shaft, continuing halfway around the opening until it came to a solid section, obviously the room atop the other access way. Unlike the balconies of the structure below, this balcony had frameless transparent panels for railing, except where a sizable gap bisected the semicircle. Wide doorways led off of the balcony at regular intervals. Coming to the first doorway, Walker stopped.

  “Ready, Bubba?”

  “On your six.”

  “Moving.”

  The two Marines moved down the hall, which led them outward toward the building's perimeter. They passed several recessed alcoves that contained closed doors. Eventually the hallway they were in dead-ended at another, curving hall that continued off in both directions. A few steps away there was an alcove on the farside of the hall.

  “Look, this door has colored buttons along side it, just like the docking bay.”

  “So push the blue one and see if it opens.”

  Walker pushed the blue rectangle. The door slid open. Turning sideways to pass through the door, he entered the room beyond. Grits found himself standing in an entranceway, his helmeted head almost scraping the ceiling. Moving forward the space opened up into a large room with a five meter ceiling. The far wall was transparent, offering a spectacular view of several other spires and starry space beyond.

  “Oh wow! Man, that's some view.”

  “Don't get distracted. Moving left.”

  “Moving right.”

  After a quick search of the area they relaxed and took in their surroundings. The floor was a creamy white with subtle patterning, almost like marble. Scattered about the room were low benches and what looked like footstools, covered with soft material in shades of tan, taupe and brown. Abstract patterns adorned the walls.

  “I think we found a condominium, partner.”

  “What makes you say that, mate.”

  “My cousin Elroy, my mother's sister's eldest, had a condo in Biloxi and it looked just like this... well, with a beach and the Gulf instead of outer space outside the windows.”