God Ship (Obsidiar Fleet Book 3)

by Anthony James

  “The Vraxar are dead,” said McKinney. He didn’t even try to make it sound convincing. The bad feeling he’d experienced on the shuttle flight earlier hadn’t left him, even after the deaths of everyone on Shuttle Two. In fact, his entire body was tingling with a feeling that something was wrong. He ignored it and walked towards the opening in the vast spaceship’s hull.

  Chapter Five

  To Eric McKinney, walking into the Vraxar Neutraliser felt like stepping into his own version of hell. The storm winds howled along the length of the ragged breach in its hull, and the grit rattled off his spacesuit. Overhead, the black metal armour loomed like an overhanging cliff, ready to collapse upon him at any moment. Beneath his feet, the surface was rough and deeply grooved, presumably from its contact with the surface of Vanistar. It was also warm enough for him to feel the heat through the material of the spacesuit and the soles of his boots.

  The breach tapered drastically as he advanced, until it was only a few metres high. The light which Sergeant Woods had mentioned became stronger, whilst the winds of Vanistar weakened reluctantly, unwilling to give up their claim on this monstrous construction of metal.

  During his cautious approach, McKinney’s brain turned over the same words again and again. Everything’s dead, except us. He wanted to believe it more than anything.

  “If I didn’t have balls of steel, this place would give me the creeps,” said Garcia in a hoarse whisper.

  “We’re not even inside it yet,” answered Roldan.

  “There’s more light a couple of hundred metres to the left,” said Sergeant Li. “I reckon this ship got unzipped for half its length and the crew on the Abyss can’t see it from up there.”

  “A little hole probably wouldn’t have killed everything onboard something like this,” said Vega.

  “Their life support failed,” said McKinney. “That’s what killed them – they came in fast and got turned to pools of mush by the impact.”

  “These Vraxar deserve plenty of additional freezing air and ammonia to make absolutely sure they’re properly dead.”

  “Amen to that.”

  McKinney was tempted to send three of the six ten-man squads to investigate the area Sergeant Li had noticed. It didn’t seem wise to split up quite yet and he waved his arm forward. After a few more paces, he squinted ahead. The greenish light was coming from somewhere deeper within the Neutraliser and it wasn’t nearly strong enough for him to get a clear picture of what lay inside. He adjusted the visor sensor to try and reach a comfortable medium, but the only impression he got was of a roughly-square opening at the deepest part of the furrow in the hull.

  “It gets narrow here,” he said. “Spread out to the sides and I’ll go in with Squad A.”

  “Want me to put a rocket through, Lieutenant?” asked Webb.

  “Save it for later.”

  The ceiling came lower and lower, though not so much that McKinney needed to duck. He reached the opening and stepped through it. The floor became perfectly flat and the ceiling rose above him. His visor sensor finally began to provide him with reliable details and it showed him the opposite wall of a long, wide room. There was no available cover, so he stepped to one side of the opening and crouched with his back to the wall and held tightly to the barrel of his plasma repeater. His visor detected no movement, no heat and no life. In fact, it was utterly deserted. Even the wind was totally gone, its absence making him realise how much he’d grown to hate it in such a short time.

  The purpose of the room wasn’t easy to guess. The walls were as dark as the exterior of the spaceship, except these ones were clad in what he initially thought were huge, rectangular tiles, without visible indication of how they’d been fixed in place. McKinney ran his fingers along one of the grooves and was left asking himself if these were indeed tiles or simply marks etched into the walls. The ceiling was five metres above and covered with the same tile pattern.

  The two drones from the ES Abyss were on the floor a few metres away, resting on their sides. McKinney didn’t need to come closer to see they were completely dead. They hadn’t lasted long.

  “Lieutenant?” whispered Rudy Munoz.

  McKinney’s distraction had caused him to delay too long. “Clear,” he said.

  The rest of Squad A entered one-by-one and spread themselves around the vicinity of the opening.

  “Impressive,” said Jeb Whitlock.

  “It’s two hundred metres to the far exit, with three exits in the wall opposite and another over there to our left,” said McKinney. “The light is coming from the middle one of the three.”

  “The atmosphere in here isn’t breathable,” said Grover. “So unless these Vraxar are immune to practically everything, they’re all dead and that light is coming from some sort of leftover power source.”

  “We can’t be complacent,” said McKinney.

  “Not even a cockroach could survive in this, Lieutenant. And if you fire one of them towards a wall at a speed in excess of four hundred klicks per second, there’ll be nothing left to wipe up afterwards.”

  “I understand the theory, Medic. I still don’t like it.”

  Although there was no sign of enemy activity, McKinney wasn’t willing to call in the other squads yet. With a series of brief commands, he sent the men of Squad A to investigate the exit passages. None of them was keen to find anything alive and they crept off without a sound.

  McKinney joined in with the scouting and made for the furthest exit, accompanied by the squad’s explosives man Clifton. They kept close to the wall for the illusory comfort it provided. After a short distance, they passed a screen flush to the wall, with a panel beneath it.

  “There are symbols on it,” said Clifton. “Alien mumbo jumbo crap.”

  The alien characters were exceptionally faint and difficult to see even in the near-darkness. McKinney watched them for a moment and grimaced when he saw them change to a new arrangement.

  “This isn’t good,” he said. “There’s something still working on this ship and I don’t like it.”

  “As long as the Vraxar are dead, their ship can do what it likes as far as I’m concerned, sir.”

  “That’s not how I look at it.”

  Clifton reached out a finger towards the control panel under the screen.

  “Don’t touch!”

  The finger retreated.

  “Probably not wise, huh?”

  “Not wise,” McKinney agreed.

  They reached the end of the room. The exit passage was a few metres wide and high, which suggested it was expected to carry traffic larger than a standard Vraxar soldier. It went off into the depths of the spaceship, with no visible end.

  “Do you think this goes towards the central section?”

  “It seems likely.”

  “Strikes me that’s where the Vraxar captain would keep himself.”

  “You’re assuming they act the same way we do.”

  “What’s the point in living if you can’t make a few assumptions, Lieutenant?”

  Clifton was a strange one, though in an eccentric way rather than in a manner that might cause concern. McKinney clapped him on the back.

  “I’ve seen enough.”

  He spun and made his way along to the entry point. The others of Squad A had little to report – there were passages leading off to unknown areas of the Neutraliser, all of which would need to be explored.

  “Everyone get inside,” said McKinney to the other squads.

  The rest of the soldiers were keen to escape the wind and it was enough to overcome their reluctance to set foot on a vast enemy spaceship. They practically dashed inside and it took only a couple of minutes until they were assembled by squad.

  Without having sufficient knowledge of the vessel’s interior to formulate a plan, McKinney made a series of snap decisions.

  “Squad B – you’re going to the left. That passage looks as if it leads to the forward nullification sphere. I have no idea what you’ll find, but I’m da
mned sure the Space Corps will be very interested. If you can obtain any samples, please do so.”

  “Does that mean we can steal stuff, Lieutenant?” asked Joy Guzman.

  “If it looks interesting and it’s not nailed down, I want it back on the shuttle.”

  “It’s just like being a pirate.”

  “This is Confederation-approved, soldier. That makes it legit.”

  McKinney turned his attention to the remaining soldiers. “Squad C, take the first of the three passages, Squad D take the second. Squad E, I’m sure you can work out where you’re going. The first person who gives me a wisecrack answer gets to guard the comms beacon outside in the wind.”

  Nobody wanted that particular duty and the four squads waited to be dismissed without any jokers making themselves heard.

  “Squad F, you get the easy work. You’re going to wait here in case you’re needed. Corporal Evans, I’m trusting you to make the right call if there are any signs of trouble.”

  Evans had matured considerably since the first time McKinney had met him in the Tillos bunker on Atlantis. He’d changed from a man accustomed to lax discipline to someone of level-headed reliability.

  “We’ll keep an eye out, sir.”

  “That leaves one squad and one last corridor to explore,” said McKinney. “We’ve got some running to do from the looks of it.”

  “A high-gravity slog to the Vraxar captain’s office,” said Clifton.

  “With no guarantee of a medal at the end of it,” grumbled Vega.

  “You got a new hand out of the Space Corps already, didn’t you?” asked Garcia. “I thought you’d be grateful.”

  “Yeah, the trouble is only this middle finger works properly,” said Vega, flipping Garcia the bird.

  “Nice one, man,” laughed Roldan.

  McKinney’s own grin was hidden by his visor, though it was harder to keep it from his voice. “Everyone set your timers – we need to be back here in six hours. Two would be better. Move out, everyone and be aware you’re going to lose comms. Stick with your party and don’t get separated.”

  Sixty of the ES Abyss’s troops went off with their teams. McKinney took note of the purposeful strides and the readiness of their weapons. He’d assigned a known officer to each squad where he could and hoped it would be enough.

  With Squad A spread out around him, McKinney led the way to the far exit. He used the opportunity to connect to the ES Abyss and was pleased when Lieutenant Cruz answered.

  “We’re heading into the Vraxar spaceship now,” he advised. “I’m streaming the data from my visor sensor through the beacon we’ve got outside. I don’t know how long it’ll be until we’re cut off.”

  “There’s already significant attenuation in the signal, Lieutenant. You’ll be comms blind in a few minutes.”

  “Understood.”

  “Come back safe, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  The comms went dead, leaving McKinney in what was becoming a familiar position for him – alone except for his squad and facing the unknown.

  A voice caused McKinney to turn.

  “Hey, what’s this?” asked Casey McCoy.

  The soldier was standing in front of the barely-lit screen McKinney had walked past earlier.

  “Leave it!”

  The warning came too late and McCoy ran his fingertips across the panel beneath the screen. At once, the panel sprang into life and the Vraxar symbols illuminated brightly. They started changing rapidly and something inconceivably heavy clunked through the ceiling.

  McCoy jumped back. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

  “I could happily beat the crap out of you right now, Soldier,” said McKinney.

  “Sorry,” stammered McCoy again.

  “Think yourself lucky I’m not the violent type.”

  “Except when it comes to the Vraxar,” said Roldan.

  McKinney was furious but wise enough to accept he couldn’t change what was done. He waited for a few moments, listening intently. The clunking wasn’t repeated and although the display screen continued to change, there was no sign McCoy’s actions had caused any direct harm.

  “This ship ain’t dead. Not by a long stretch,” said Whitlock. “I don’t care what the sensors on the Abyss say.”

  “This thing can shut down a whole planet,” added Roldan. “It makes sense for it to have lots of its own backup power systems.”

  The logic didn’t necessarily follow, but McKinney found himself in agreement with Roldan’s assessment. “Just as long as the Vraxar are dead, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe you should tell McCoy not to stick his fingers in anything that looks like a power socket. That would be my major worry,” said Garcia.

  McCoy’s response was short and blunt.

  “Enough,” warned McKinney. “We’re in hostile surroundings – I don’t want anyone getting distracted because you two are pissing on each other.”

  The bitching stopped as quickly as it started. McKinney didn’t usually mind the banter – it served a useful purpose when the men were cooped up in their quarters on the ES Abyss. Here in a situation that was potentially dangerous, he didn’t want the hassle of dealing with the fallout.

  They reached the exit corridor and set off warily along it in a column two abreast. The lead men had their repeaters trained forwards, whilst those behind kept their rifles ready. If there was any movement, the front two would drop to their knees and those to the rear would spread out to the sides in order to get a clear line of sight.

  McKinney was accustomed to enclosed spaces, yet there was something about this Vraxar ship which beat against his resolve. He could imagine the vast weight of metal pressing in on him and the feeling grew with every step. The others were uneasy too and they muttered the type of throwaway comments which people made when they were trying to distract themselves from something unpleasant.

  They walked at a rapid pace for fifteen minutes without seeing any side passages or variation. There was no light and the visor sensors weren’t capable of generating a good image. Every time McKinney thought he saw a side passage in the distance, it turned out to be a false alarm. He wanted to use the conventional torches built into the suit visors, but the light would give them away from a good distance. So, they walked in sensor-enhanced darkness. The extra gravity was enough to make them sweat and it was fortunate the Space Corps insisted on a high degree of fitness.

  “How long do you reckon this tunnel is, Lieutenant?” asked Webb.

  McKinney had been asking himself that exact question. “The two nullification spheres are more than three thousand metres in diameter and the central section is four thousand metres at its longest point. That means each of these connecting beams is four klicks from sphere to central section. We came in a little way along from the front, so I’d guess this corridor is nearly four klicks long, assuming it terminates at the central section.”

  “What if it goes all the way to the end of the ship?”

  “Then we turn around and we come back.”

  It was Ricky Vega who saw it. The others walked by without noticing a series of shallow indentations in the wall.

  “Lieutenant, look at this.”

  McKinney drew to a halt and the others stopped with him. “What is it?”

  “It looks like a ladder to me,” said Vega. “There’s something on the ceiling.”

  “Let me have a look.”

  McKinney clipped his rifle onto his repeater pack and sized up the ladder. It was more like a series of wide, deep slots in the wall, spaced half a metre apart and climbing as high as the ceiling four metres above.

  “Looks like a hatch or something up there,” said McCoy.

  “We’re here to explore, so let’s see if it’ll open.”

  McKinney pushed his hand into the highest slot he could reach and jammed the toe of his boot into one of the lower openings. With a grunt, he hauled himself upwards. It was awkward and his hand almost slipped when he was hal
fway up. His fingertips stung from the effort of holding himself in place.

  The hatch was a square section of the ceiling, about one metre to each side. It was the same colour as the other metal and only a thin seam betrayed its presence.

  “Good eyes, Vega, McCoy,” he said. “It’s hard to make it out even with my face pressed against it.”

  “Does it open?” asked Roldan.

  Keeping a tight grip with one hand, McKinney reached up with the other and thumped his palm against the hatch. There was no indication it was any less solid than the metal around it. He struck it again.

  “If it does, I can’t figure it out.”

  McKinney was about to give up and climb down, when he noticed something in the wall next to the topmost ladder slot. There was a square groove about three fingers wide. There was no reason for it to be there, so he shuffled carefully towards it. The men below craned their necks to see, curious to find out what McKinney was up to.

  When he was close enough, McKinney stuck out his hand and tentatively put his middle and forefinger into the hole. The opening went inwards and then down and he was able to hook his fingers over the lip. Without allowing himself time to wonder if this was the best course of action, McKinney pulled hard. A long, narrow section of the wall came away easily and smoothly – the groove was the top of a lever made to be flush with the wall. The hatch opened silently – it rose a few inches into the ceiling and then slid to one side. McKinney’s suit detected a faint breeze coming out, suggesting the area above was pressurized.

  The ladder continued upwards and, having come this far, McKinney continued his ascent.

  Chapter Six

  Captain Charlie Blake couldn’t settle. The climate-controlled air on the bridge felt alternately too hot and too cold. His chair had developed bumps and lumps where there had previously been none and the bridge replicator was emitting a high-pitched whine he was certain hadn’t been there before.

  The surviving troops had been out of comms sight for fifteen minutes, except for Corporal Evans and his men. Corporal Evans hadn’t heard from the others since they’d left the entry point room and therefore wasn’t able to give any more detailed responses than I don’t know, sir or I’ll let you know as soon as they return, sir.