The Dauntless: (War of the Ancients Trilogy Book 1)

by Alex Kings

  At the bottom of the slope, the shuttle lay on its side. Agatha and Moore were dragging it round to face the tunnel. Its remaining engine groaned, reducing the weight, but not able to actually lift the shuttle.

  At soon as the shuttle was in place, Agatha crawled over the damaged underside with practised ease. A dead Blank hung out the top door. She pulled it aside so she could get in.

  A thunderclap and a simultaneous roar of assault rifle fire. Hanson and Yilva dragged Srak to one side, taking cover by the tunnel mouth. Moore went to the other. Agatha dropped inside. Hanson couldn't tell if she'd been hit or not.

  A new wave of blanks was moving down the tunnel towards them. Hanson leaned out and fired his assault rifle, taking down the one with the Ancient weapon. Another with an assault rifle turned on him and he had to duck back. Moore took down another one. But behind them, the tunnel was packed.

  The shuttle's mini-gun began to spin up with a whine. The blanks directed their attention to it. Hanson saw one raising an Ancient weapon, and took it down.

  With a roar, the mini-gun burst into life. Two of the blanks went down immediately. Hanson and Moore picked off another couple who weren't in the line of fire.

  The shuttle began to slide forward, still on its side, still scraping along the ground. It wobbled, but picked up speed. As it passed into the tunnel, Agatha's head popped up from the top door. She leapt out as the shuttle slid down the tunnel, still firing its mini-gun.

  “Let's go!” said Hanson. “Agatha, come help us over here! Moore, take point.”

  Agatha grabbed Srak's front arm opposite Hanson, and Yilva took one of the middle arms in front of them. With Moore leading, they made their way down the tunnel.

  “Seven minutes!” cried Yilva.

  The going was slow, step after step dragging Srak. Up ahead, the shuttle chewed through blanks, the clatter of its mini-gun competing with the thunderclaps of the Ancient weapons. It left a trail of shells on the floor, glowing red with heat. Occasionally a Blank would get past, slipping to the side and standing flat against the wall so the shuttle passed by it. But as soon as it came into sight, Moore would shoot it down, with Hanson and Agatha offering backup. More often as they progressed, there were just a trail of dead blanks, pushed off to the sides.

  Soon the mini-gun was out of ammunition. Still the shuttle dragged forward. The sounds of Ancient weapons hitting it continued, at a lower pace.

  A hundred metres ahead, the shuttle finally gave out. Its engines let out a faint pop, and it came to a halt, resting its full weight on the ground. Dead blanks littered the side of the tunnel.

  “Moore, with me on the left. Agatha, take the right,” ordered Hanson.

  They took cover behind the shuttle. Hanson leaned out saw a Blank raising its Ancient weapon to him, and shot it. Under his and Moore's fire, it fell back, covered in holes. Another pair came running up. One's chest imploded as Agatha shot it.

  The other ducked behind the shuttle's ruined nose as Hanson fired. A second later it emerged, grabbed the barrels and Hanson and Moore's assault rifles, and slammed them back into their owners' chests before they could fire.

  Agatha stepped back to aim at the blank. Hanson fell back, alongside Moore. The Blank wrenched both of their weapons away, throwing them towards Agatha. The rifles hit her before she could dodge, sending her down and knocking the weapon from her hands.

  The Blank reached down and grabbed his and Moore's throat in one motion, slamming them against the wall. Even through his suit, Hanson felt the powerful hand crushing his neck.

  Gunfire. The pressure on Hanson's throat lessened. Then the Blank let him go and stumbled back. The armour in its chest was full of holes. It turned towards Yilva – who had Hanson's assault rifle levelled firmly against its side.

  The blank, injured but still alive, smacked the rifle aside and moved towards her.

  Then its head came apart with a thunderclap. What was left of its body fell to the floor. Agatha lowered the Ancient weapon.

  “Th-thanks,” said Yilva.

  “We should say the same to you,” said Hanson, as she gave him the assault rifle. He looked around. That seemed to be all the blanks gone, for the moment. “Let's get out of here. Yilva, how long?”

  Yilva grabbed her tablet, looked at it, and squeaked. “Four minutes!”

  They went back to dragging Srak, with Moore leading up ahead. At the end of the tunnel, they turned off another passageway, down the tunnel.

  Two minutes left.

  And there was their airlock.

  Yilva stepped forward, ready to open the lock.

  “No, said Hanson. “There's no time. Everyone, link arms. Agatha, shoot it.”

  With everyone holding to Srak, Agatha raised her weapons and shot the airlock. The first door gave way immediately. She fired one more. The second door broke open with a squeal.

  Wind began to rush past. Hanson and the others took a few steps to drag Srak forward, the wind helping. Then it rose to a roar, dragging them forward, through the airlock, off the ground, and into the giant cavity.

  And there, on the verge of coming apart, was the ship. His ship.

  The Dauntless floated ahead of them, immense. As they were pushed forward by the rushing air, they left the gravity plating and floated free and at considerable pace towards it.

  Evidently Lanik had seen them. The ship pulled back so they were heading for its main docking port airlock. The outer airlock door opened.

  “Moore, Agatha,” said Hanson. “Keep us steady. Minor thrust to the left.”

  Together, they activated their suit's thrusters to keep them on target.

  Closer, closer. The airlock came up too fast.

  “Slow us down.”

  Again, they activated thrusters.

  The balance wasn't exactly right. They began to spin. The ship slid out of view, replaced by the way they'd come, then the ship again. A slow spin, but still potentially deadly if it made them miss the airlock.

  “Agatha, turn on your starboard thrusters, constant medium burn.”

  She did. Each time they were facing the ship, Hanson added a little of his own thrust, slowing them down, keeping on course.

  The airlock came up.

  And they were in. Gravity returned instantly. Still holding on to Srak, they hit the floor and bumped lightly against the inner door. The outer door closed, and air hissed back in.

  “Time?” Hanson asked Yilva.

  “Forty-three seconds,” she said.

  The inner door opened, and a medical team rushed in. Lanik stood behind them. “We've got fifty seconds before this thing jumps,” he told Lanik. “We need to go now.”

  Lanik nodded. “Understood, sir.” He activated the comms: “Take us out of here, asap.”

  Fermi's voice. “Yes, sir.”

  The medical team, helped by Agatha, helped pull Srak out and down the corridor.

  The Dauntless turned back towards the opening that led out of the internal cavity. It shot forwards.

  Twenty seconds left.

  A maze of internal membranes and chambers and walls. And at last: Open space.

  Ten seconds left.

  The Dauntless cleared the Ancient ship. They were still close to Tethya: The immense blue orb, glowing in the sun. Tethyan battleships swarmed about the Ancient ship, still being torn apart, still harassing it with their monopole cannons.

  The Ancient ship went silent for a moment. Then it jumped: A wormhole opened ahead of it, and swept backwards to swallow it.

  Then nothing: The Tethyan battleships pulled back.

  It seemed like time had frozen. With a lightspeed delay, it would take another eight minutes for them to see what was happening by the star.

  “Let's get to the CIC,” Hanson said. “I want to make sure that thing's going down.”

  Operative Serafin was waiting outside the CIC, She greeted Hanson curtly, and he responded in kind. Then they entered the CIC together – with all of Hanson's team apart from Srak, and A
gatha, who had followed him to the infirmary.

  The telescope showed the Forge, sitting just above the star's surface. One side lit up to blinding white, the other coated in shadow. Its immense feathers of cables extended hundreds of kilometres. The star's surface bulged beneath it, ready to be sucked up and used for raw material.

  Then, a flash of light. A wormhole opening, right in the middle of it. The wormhole tore the Forge apart. Then the Ancient ship came through, smashing into the Forge's superstructure.

  Both of them were made of the incredibly strong Ancient substance. They slammed into one another. The Ancient ship, the crown of thorns, split in two, became tangled in the cables, ripped the cables from the Forge's main body. Everything billowed white-hot plasma.

  The bulge in the sun began to sink back down. The tangled mass of ship and Forge tumbled towards it – slowly, but with quickly gathering speed. At last, the whole mass fell into the plasma with a flash, and was gone.

  Chapter 68: Celebration and Uncertainty

  The next few days passed in a tangle of celebration and horrified uncertainty.

  The Solar Alliance first decided to arrest Hanson (just for the sake of procedure), then chose to give him an award.

  But it was stuck in its own quandaries. There was an inquiry into corruption in the Solar Navy, and three admirals and several captains were found to have been influenced by IS. All were stripped of their rank. Between his arrest, having his ship impounded, and preparations for the ceremony, Hanson was called on several times to give evidence.

  Things went deeper than that: IL had gone. The biggest contractor with the Alliance Navy, and the biggest corporation in human space. It had taken several billion credits from its accounts and assets. If they'd been turned into cryptcreds, they'd be untraceable. Another investigation covered its employees and executives who hadn't vanished or been found mysteriously dead, but turned up little.

  The Tethyans stepped in soon after the Dauntless was impounded. They wanted to repair it, and upgrade it in the process. Since the Solar Navy, without IL, was struggling to find the parts to repair any of its ships, they gladly agreed.

  The Tethyan offer went further: There was still Ancient technology out there, and IL still had the will to use it. So the Tethyans wanted Hanson and the Dauntless to work with them, to find IL and stop them.

  *

  Hanson found time between everything to check up on Srak. The hospital in Tethya city was a large, organic-looking structure staffed mainly by Tethyans and holding patients of all species.

  Srak was already up and walking around, though sporting a giant scar on his right side.

  “Hanson! Come in, come in!” he cried. “This human saved my life,” he told a passing doctor who swam past in one of the floor canals. Then, to Hanson, “I don't suppose you could smuggle in a quart of rakta in for me, could you? They don't let you drink here.” He laughed.

  “How are you feeling?” Hanson asked him.

  “For a Varanid who got half his ribcage smashed? Pretty damned good!”

  Hanson looked at him for a moment. “Are you sure they don't let you drink?” he asked.

  Srak laughed again. They talked for a while, before Hanson had to leave to go to another interview.

  *

  One other thing kept him busy between the constant inquiry interviews and debriefings. He tried talking to the Albascene several times, then the Tethyans.

  Nothing seemed to happen for a couple of says until, leaving an inquiry interview, he ran into Yilva.

  “I … I'm still indentured,” she told him. “Five years, no lengthening of the sentence.”

  “Oh,” said Hanson. Shit.

  Yilva saw his face cloud. “But!” she said quickly, tail flopping back and forth over the floor. “There's some contract thing … I don't really understand it … but it means I can work for the Tethyans. And since you're also working with the Tethyans … I can work on the Dauntless. If you'll have me?”

  “Well, then,” said Hanson with a smile. “Welcome to the crew of the Dauntless, Ms. Avanni.”

  Yilva grinned. Her tail bounced even more. “Oh, wow! Thanks! It'll be me, plus a Tethyan representative.”

  “There's going to be a Tethyan aboard?”

  Yilva nodded.

  “That will be interesting,” said Hanson.

  *

  A week passed, and at last the ceremony came around.

  It was a stage on Tethya city. Formally, a Solar Alliance ceremony, but Hanson could see others in the crowd – many Tethyans, some Albascene, some Petaurs. And, of course, his team.

  Admiral Chang stood ready. He saluted Hanson, and Hanson saluted back.

  “Captain James Hanson,” recited the admiral, “For acts of the greatest heroism and most conspicuous courage in circumstances of extreme danger, I hereby present you with the Solar Alliance's highest award: The Lovell Star.”

  He pinned the award to Hanson's uniform. Applause.

  Afterwards, as the ceremony drew to a close, Chang came up to Hanson again. “I suppose you'll want to see your new ship,” he said.

  “I'd like that,” Hanson told him.

  With his team and the admiral, Hanson walked along the waterfront and eventually to the docking berth.

  And there she was: Sleeker than before. The laser turrets looked smoother, more organic. Some extra cylinder was slung under her belly, covering the whole length of the ship. “I should warn you, she's not quite an Alliance ship anymore,” said Chang. “The Tethyans have been doing some upgrading. More efficient reactor, biotech lasers and armour additions. Effector fields. And a monopole cannon.”

  Hanson looked at him.

  “Really,” said Chang. “Under their suits, the Albascene are green with envy.”

  Leaning out over the guardrails, Agatha let out an impressed whistle.

  “She's ready to lift off tomorrow,” said Chang. He exchanged another salute with Hanson and headed back into the city.

  Hanson turned and smiled at Agatha. “Shall we take a look inside?”

  “Oh, hell yes,” said Agatha. “I want to be there when you fire that monopole cannon.” She followed up up the gangway. “You know your lab people took my Ancient weapon to study? So a girl has to take what she can get.”

  Inside, everything was polished to a high shine. But there were new elements too, barely visible behind the chrome plating. It looked a sort of crystalline blue, and smelt faintly of the ocean. A healthy smell, that, Hanson hoped, would offset the more sour or antiseptic smells that afflicted ships that had been out of dock for too long.

  “So,” said Hanson. “What are you going to do now?”

  Agatha leant against the wall and pouted. “Oh, I don't know,” she said at last. “We'll find something as soon as Srak's in fighting shape. We always have.” She thought for a moment, then continued, “I liked working with you. I mean, seriously. This isn't just me being soppy. It was nice to have someone other than just myself and Srak who I could rely on … But you know me well enough by now, Hanson. I'm never going to get through an actual military academy. Polished boots and well-made beds and all that shit? Nuh-uh.”

  Hanson nodded thoughtfully, then reached into his breast pocket. “If you could stand to wear a uniform,” he said, “I might have an opening.” He brought forth two sets of rank pins. “I have some push with the Alliance. And the Tethyans, as it turns out.”

  Agatha stared at them. “Acting sergeant? For me and Srak. Are you serious?”

  “Of course,” said Hanson. “If we're going to be tracking down IL's goons, I want you on my side.”

  For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, in a sudden movement, Agatha was on the tips of her toes. She kissed him briefly. “Thanks! I gotta tell Srak.” She turned and raced down the gangplank.

  Hanson looked down the corridor to see Lanik standing before him, eyebrow raised.

  “Yes, XO?” he asked.

  “Nothing sir,” said Lanik. “Nothing at all.”
r />   Epilogue

  A fleet of twenty or so IL ships floated outside Philip Pierce's window. Ostensibly civilian ships, but powerful nonetheless. A quickly-assembled dry-dock was arming them.

  The captain of his own liner called him over the comms. “We're ready to jump, Mr. Pierce.”

  “Do it,” Pierce said.

  The view through the window was swept away by an approaching wormhole mouth. There came the familiar sensation of compression and expansion, then they were in interstellar space.

  He watched the stars.

  Behind him, Millicent shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

  He turned from the window and gave her a fatherly smile. “You're worried about your niece, aren't you?”

  She nodded.

  “Well don't be! She can't come with us, but we still have our connections. I'll make sure she's looked after.”

  “Um,” she began.

  “Yes?”

  “If they come after her …?”

  “They won't. She knows nothing. They know that.”

  “Y-yes, Mr. Pierce.”

  “We may be in exile now, but we won't stay that way,” he said. “Mr. Bell's defeat was a setback, but it won't stop us. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve, believe me. A dozen Ancient sites we can use.” He turned back to the stars. “Yes, by the end of the year, the galaxy will be ours.”

  Betrayals

  Note from the author:

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