“Do not speak unless you’re spoken to,” Hilde had told him. “We’re operating under strict radio silence.”
Max shuddered in the confines of the suit. He had to fight the urge to contact one of the other marines, even though he knew it would have cost him his chance to be embedded with them in the future. In hindsight, he should have loaded a game or two into his implants, running a program that would have distracted him from his confinement. Or he could run a program that would keep him calm, despite the risk of accidentally putting himself to sleep. Brain-modification programs weren’t forbidden in the Solar Union, but they were considered dangerous in a combat zone. And to think he’d volunteered for the assignment!
Hilde wouldn't be impressed if you backed out, he told himself. He’d spent a great deal of time with Hilde over the last few days, growing more impressed with her every time they spoke. There was a bluntness about her character that appealed to him. But then, she wouldn't be impressed with you anyway.
He jumped as a voice echoed through the suit. “Five seconds to launch,” it said. “Five seconds to launch ...”
There was a sudden wave of pressure as the suit was ejected from the starship and hurled towards their target, a fabber hanging against a blue-green orb. Max let out a sigh of relief, then cursed inwardly as the suit’s automatic systems slaved him to Hilde. He tried to follow the icons as the fabber grew larger, a five kilometre-long structure, but rapidly found it impossible. The suit was jerking from side to side, in anticipation of defensive fire, as it closed in on the fabber. He closed his eyes as his perspective shifted, knowing better than to risk allowing the sudden change to disorientate him, then opened them again as a new timer appeared in front of him. Ten seconds until landing ...
“Watch yourselves, but only fire if fired upon,” the major said. A dull thump echoed through the suit as it touched down on the fabber. “The enemy may just throw in the towel.”
Max doubted it very much, but he kept that thought to himself. He’d seen the Druavroks hurling themselves forward, trying to bury the marines under their dead bodies ... and they’d kept coming until every last one of them was dead. The idea they’d just surrender the fabber was absurd, not when even a civilian-grade fabber would be a prize well worth the lives of a dozen marines. And if they knew the Tokomak codes could be bypassed, they’d have very good reason to keep it out of human hands.
And they’ll try to find a way to copy those codes for themselves, he thought, as he fell back and allowed the marines to take the lead. They may not think much of any other races, but they won’t be able to deny the advantage it gives us.
He kept his eyes wide open as the marines placed disintegrator charges on the giant hatch, where completed products were released into space, then stepped back as the field turned the metal into dust. The marines plunged forwards, weapons at the ready, but no one greeted them with a hail of fire. Max followed them, peering into the darkened chamber as tiny sensor drones raced ahead, sending their live feed back to the suits. It was crammed with boxes of produced goods - there was no way to tell what they were, without opening them up for inspection - but there was still no sign of the enemy. The marines advanced carefully forward, one of them - a young woman who’d flatly refused to talk to him - opening up an access hatch and inserting a modified hacker core into the fabber network.
“They’ve locked their system, Major,” she reported. “It’s going to take the hackers some time to crack their codes, unless someone has an AI hidden up their sleeves.”
“Let the intelligence staff handle it,” the Major ordered. “Fall back into position.”
Max felt the tension rising as the marines reached the far end of the chamber and began to work on the hatch leading into the crew quarters. Unless the Druavroks had changed the original design, the vast majority of the crew would live in a separate - and somewhat isolated - compartment, allowing them to be rounded up without delay. He rather suspected they would have scattered themselves throughout the fabber, if they were intent on delaying the inevitable, but the major had his reasons for wanting to secure the crew compartment first. The hatch clicked open ...
... And a horde of Druavroks emerged, firing madly.
“Take them out,” the Major ordered.
Max stared in horror. The aliens were wearing masks, rather than suits; didn't they know they were charging right into a depressurised bay? They had to have known, he told himself, even if they’d cut though all the safety precautions. Bypassing the hatch would have set off all kinds of alarms; hatches would be slamming closed further into the fabber, just to prevent the rest of the structure from depressurising. His suit jerked as it was slaved to Hilde’s suit, his weapons coming up and opening fire of their own accord. One by one, the aliens were blasted to the deck before they could do any damage. None of the marines were injured.
“Move forward,” the Major ordered. “Quickly!”
Max followed, knowing that Hilde could override his commands and take control of his suit any time she wanted. Inside, the crew compartment was a mess. He couldn't help thinking of a water bird’s nest, although - with the temperature dropping rapidly - ice was forming everywhere. The Druavroks liked it hot, according to the briefing; lowering the temperature, even for a short period of time, would be enough to make them miserable.
“Maybe they liked playing in the mud,” one of the marines commented. “Those showers look better than ours.”
The Major led the way forward, picking his way through a second set of hatches. This time, the airlock had been left intact; inside, the atmosphere was suitable for most humanoid races, although the suit reported traces of a number of dangerous elements. The marines sealed the hatch behind them, just to make sure the fabber didn’t depressurise further, then kept moving forward. There was no sign of anyone else until they turned a corner and ran into an ambush.
“Sniper,” Hilde snapped, as a plasma burst shot down the corridor. “Only one, but in a good position.”
She launched a grenade down the corridor, then ran forward as soon as it exploded. Max followed her carefully, barely noticing the remains of the Druavrok plastered against the bulkhead. Several more snipers popped up, each one slowing the marines for a few brief moments, but inflicting almost no damage at all. The only minor casualty was a marine whose suit was damaged, forcing him to return to the first chamber and wait for pickup. And then they punched their way through a set of sealed doors ...”
“Max,” Hilde said. She sounded genuinely angry. “You’ll want to come see this.”
Max hesitated, then slipped forward and peered through the doors. The compartment was crammed with bodies, hundreds of bodies. None of them were Druavroks, he noted dispassionately, using his implants to keep his emotions under control. He didn't recognise half the races gathered in the compartment, but all of them were dead. His suit flashed up a warning as he stepped forward, identifying a deadly nerve toxin that would be lethal to almost every carbon-based race.
“Keep your suit sealed,” Hilde warned. “You could have the full spectrum of combat biomods and nanites and you’d still have problems if that toxin touched your bare skin.”
“I understand,” Max said, feeling sick. He’d known the Druavroks had no problems committing genocide, but this ...? The workers had been slaves, worked to death and then gassed when there had been a prospect of rescue. “What sort of monsters are we fighting?”
“A race that cares nothing for anyone, even themselves,” Hilde said. “Keep that in mind when you write your report.”
“Major, this is Locke in Intelligence,” a new voice said. “I’ve isolated the hacking protocol that should let me take control of the fabber. Permission to proceed?”
“Granted,” the Major said. “Download the live feed from any internal sensors into the combat network.”
Max followed Hilde back out of the compartment and into combat position as the gravity and lights flickered, briefly.
“I have direct con
trol,” Locke reported. “It looks as though the Druavroks were attempting to blow the reactors, but civilian-grade units aren't designed for rapid destruction. I’d prefer to power them down, sir. The engineers can bring them back up after you’ve finished sweeping the fabber.”
“Understood,” the Major said. “Can you open all the hatches and vent the atmosphere?”
There was a pause. “I can, Major,” Locke said, finally. “But that would kill the remaining Druavroks ...”
The Major snorted. “Are there any non-Druavroks left on the station? If not, vent the fabber and save us the task of hunting them down and killing the bastards.”
“Understood, Major,” Locke said. Max couldn't help thinking that he sounded oddly reluctant to kill the last Druavroks, even though he knew what they’d done. “There aren't any other races on the station, save for you and the bad guys. I’m overriding the safety protocols and opening the hatches now.”
Max smiled, rather coldly, as red icons flashed up in front of his eyes, warning him that the atmosphere was steadily draining into the vacuum of space. The fabber was vast - it would take some time for the atmosphere to vent completely - but the Druavroks would have no time to muster further resistance or get into suits before the cold overcame them. He wondered, absently, if he should feel guilt, then reminded himself that the Druavroks had casually massacred their slaves just to keep them from being rescued. There was no way to know what drove the monsters, but they were monsters.
And some bastard in the future will probably say they weren't that bad, he thought, as he hastily reviewed his recordings. One of Old Earth’s many problems was an upswing in revisionist history, including attempts to suggest that the great men of the past should have been guided by the morals and ethics of the present. And that we were the ones who introduced the toxin, not them.
He scowled at the thought, then followed the marines as they carefully swept their way through the remainder of the structure. The Druavroks had set up a handful of traps, but none of them were particularly lethal. They simply hadn't had the time to turn the entire fabber into a battleground.
“Interesting,” Locke said, through the communications network. “It looks as though they were attempting to circumvent the Tokomak security codes.”
The Major snorted. “You mean they were attempting to produce weapons?”
“No ... well, yes, but not in the way you think,” Locke said. “They weren't actually producing weapons, they were producing components that could be made into weapons and then assembling them elsewhere. The Tokomak didn't install an AI on the fabber, so there was nothing intelligent enough to realise that everything the Druavroks were fabricating could easily be misused.”
“How unusually cunning of them,” the Major commented.
“Someone else could have come up with the idea,” Max offered, before he could stop himself. “One of their slaves, perhaps. He might have thought it would buy him his freedom.”
“Or they copied the idea from the Tokomak themselves,” Hilde suggested. “We know the Tokomak had plenty of time to study the chinks in their own defences.”
Max shrugged. He didn't see why the Tokomak would build the fabbers, carefully programming them so they were only useful for civilian purposes, and then leave a deliberate loophole for their subjects to exploit. Unless it was an intelligence test, with the race that successfully passed it marked for extermination. The Tokomak wouldn't be interested in raising up potential rivals.
“Not that it matters,” the Major said. “How much did they manage to produce?”
“I’m not sure,” Locke confessed. “I’ve got a team of analysts studying the specs and trying to work out what the Druavroks could have produced, but it will take some time. They could certainly have put together plasma cannons or antimatter containment fields with a little effort; I think they might have been able to construct mines, although missiles would be beyond the components they could produce here.”
“Antimatter mines would be a major headache,” Max commented.
“True,” Hilde said.
“Time to go back to work,” the Major said, loudly. “Once the station has been swept, we’ll hand the fabber over to the engineers and return to the ship.”
Max kept his amusement to himself as they completed the sweep and then headed back to where they’d broken into the fabber. A handful of crates had been opened, revealing a number of civilian-grade components. Hilde speculated, out loud, that they were designed to serve as magnetic containment fields, either for superhot plasma or antimatter. Either one, Max knew, would allow for any number of makeshift weapons. The Druavroks might not have been able to crack the command codes for the fabber, but they’d certainly done the next best thing.
“Good luck,” the Major said, as the engineers teleported into the chamber. “The fabber is all yours.”
Hilde caught Max’s attention. “We’ll be teleporting directly into the quarantine chamber until the suits have been scrubbed,” she said, as the marines assembled for teleport. “Do not crack your suit until we are sure there’s no biological hazard. That toxin was deadly.”
“I understand,” Max said.
He said nothing as the teleport field picked them up and deposited them in a large white room, where the suits were scanned thoroughly for prospective threats. The idea of a toxin getting loose on a Solar Union starship was alien - and, on the face of it, absurd - but it was wise to take precautions. Hilde was right. Whatever the Druavroks had used to kill their slaves, it had clearly been nasty enough to slaughter the poor bastards despite whatever medical nanites and genetic modifications they’d had. By the time the suits were declared free of contamination, he had almost completed the first draft of his report.
The first report, he corrected himself. He’d watched enough of the battle though the ship’s sensors to have a fair idea of how everything had gone, although he’d check before sending the report off on the next courier boat. The folks back home will have to understand that these monsters will need to be fought.
“You can open your suit now,” Hilde said, dryly. Max started, shocked out of his silent musings. “We’ll make sure it gets back to the rack.”
Max frowned, disapprovingly. He’d been taught, back when he’d been in the service, that the wearer of the suit was the person responsible for taking care of it. His former CO would have blown a gasket if he’d seen Max handing the duty over to anyone, even a marine. But Hilde had flatly refused to allow him to do it for himself. He didn't have the years of intensive training the marines had had before they donned their suits and took them into combat.
He opened his suit and clambered out. Hilde stood in front of him, wearing a dark overall that showed off her muscles and the shape of her body. He couldn't help feeling small in front of her, even though he was slightly taller than average. She checked the suit, nodded to him and started to key commands into the onboard processors. The suit turned and clanked towards the hatch on its own.
“I’ll catch up with you later, if you want a few more interviews,” she said, glancing back at him. “Unless I managed to put you off last time.”
“You didn’t,” Max assured her. “But I need to get the first report ready to go before the courier boat leaves.”
Chapter Nineteen
Texan forces, according to a news bulletin released by Austin, have trapped and annihilated a Mexican armoured column that successfully forced its way across the Rio Grande. The Governor reportedly issued orders to refrain from taking prisoners after Mexican troops looted, raped and murdered their way through a number of settlements along the border. As yet, there has been no word from the Mexican Government ...
-Solar News Network, Year 54
“All things considered,” Hoshiko said, “it was a successful operation.”
She looked up at the display and studied it for a long moment, then looked back at her XO, who was seated at the far side of the cabin. He hadn't been too keen on the whole offensive, but eve
n he had to admit that it had been a success. They’d smashed three battlestations, seven starships and an uncertain number of shuttles and automated platforms in exchange for a handful of converted freighters. By any reasonable standard, she knew, it had been the most one-sided victory since the Horde had tried to attack Earth in Year 10.
“And something they cannot ignore,” Wilde said, curtly. “How many of them did we kill?”
Hoshiko shrugged. It was hard to care after they’d found out what had happened to the slaves on the fabbers ... or, for that matter, when the drones had made it clear that very few members of the planet’s population were anything but Druavroks. They might have been the majority population before the Tokomak withdrew, yet they hadn't been the only settlers. They’d slaughtered the other settlers almost as soon as they’d found themselves independent and abandoned.
“We now have three more fabbers,” she added. “As we have no intention of keeping the system, we’ll tow them out into interstellar space and make use of them there. The remainder of the out-system infrastructure can be destroyed.”
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 19