Jackson felt his stomach do a backflip and his mouth began watering. Out of pride, he began taking slow, steady breaths, forcing his body to calm down from the sudden shock to his vestibular system. He looked around and saw that while the specialists looked a little worse for wear, the Marines actually appeared to be enjoying themselves.
He felt a sharp jolt as the shuttle engines started up and sensed the lateral acceleration as they began their deorbit burn. The Blue Jacket had been flying at a much higher velocity than was needed for their orbital altitude so the small shuttle had to run up its exoatmospheric engines hard to slow the craft down enough to begin their descent. The burn seemed to go on forever before the acceleration relented and Jackson could just begin to feel the mild buffeting from the upper atmosphere.
Soon, the shuttle was rocking and bouncing through the increasingly dense air, the friction causing enough heat to tax the climate control system for the passenger compartment. It was another five minutes or so before the ride began to smooth out and they could hear the turbine engines used for atmospheric flight spooling up. There were four engines mounted in nacelles at the ends of the four offset, stubby wings: two front, two aft. The engine nacelles could be pitched down for vertical landing and takeoff, while the thrust nozzles could be articulated a full thirty-three degrees to provide additional control.
Jackson wasn't sure where they'd made entry over the planet so he couldn't be positive how long the flight would be. He waved to get the crew chief's attention and motioned to him for a headset. The crew chief nodded and tossed him a spare set from under his seat. Jackson slipped them over his head and adjusted the microphone before plugging the cord into the receptacle at the base of his own seat.
"This is Captain Wolfe," he said over the intraship channel. "What is our approximate flight time?"
"We've brought you in right over the target, Captain," the pilot's voice came back. "We're descending in a slow, wide arc over the ... affected ... area. We'll be landing one kilometer east of the outer edge of the phenomena on the ground. We'll make landfall in another twenty minutes."
"Copy," Jackson said. He removed the headset and tossed it back to the crew chief. "Twenty minutes," he told the ground team.
The only further excitement during the flight was the flaring of the shuttle as the engines angled down and the air compressing underneath the craft caused a few seconds of bone-jarring vibrations. When the wheels touched the ground the pilot chopped the throttles and angled the engines up so the ground team could exit without being pummeled (or scorched) by the jet exhaust.
The crew chief went back and popped the releases for the rear hatch and hit the control to open the shuttle up. The hatch was actually the entire rear bulkhead that swung down to form a ramp for them to disembark. After a thumbs up from the crew chief they all piled out, the Marines forming up a defensive perimeter while the specialists lugged their equipment behind them.
"Sergeant!" Jackson called to the Marine in charge of the squad. "We need to go west one klick. It's more important we arrive there safely than quickly."
"Understood, sir," the sergeant said. "We'll divide up and put you and the techs between us. If you need to stop, just call for a halt and we'll watch the perimeter."
Jackson waved for him to proceed and then turned to the seemingly bewildered spacers milling around near the ramp. "We're going to be following the first group of Marines. It's a kilometer walk to where the affected area starts; that's where you'll begin running your tests. Any questions?"
"No, sir," a few of them managed to mumble.
"Okay then, let's look alive," Jackson said. "We're not sure what to expect, so stay sharp and call out anything that looks unusual or dangerous."
They were almost two hundred meters away when their objective came into view. The glistening edge of the phenomenon was clearly seen along with the fact that it was moving. Jackson looked on in morbid fascination as the mass undulated and roiled forward like a lava flow.
"It goes without saying, but do not touch the mass ahead of us with anything but your instruments," Jackson said. "Maintain strict quarantine protocols on every sample taken."
"What would you like us to do, sir?" the Marine sergeant asked.
"Stay out of their way," Jackson said, slowing his pace as they approached. "Our previous analysis shows no airborne pathogens, but let's not take the chance of your men accidentally coming into physical contact."
The Marines made no argument about staying away from the viscous substance and formed a loose perimeter twenty meters away.
Jackson looked to his left and right, stunned by the size of the slick. Now that they were close, he was almost gagging on the smell. It was an overpowering mix of sickly sweet and the sharp tang of decay. The technicians were breaking out their equipment and donning protective equipment as they would have to approach quite close to the slick.
"This had to be some sort of biological weapon," Jackson mused to himself.
"Possibly, sir," the Marine sergeant said from his left. "But how do you account for the missing buildings and infrastructure? This was a fairly well-developed city."
"You can see some pieces of building material embedded in the slime," Jackson said, pointing to what looked like a chunk of tarmac. "Maybe they leveled the city and then turned this loose on the survivors."
"That's a hell of an attack," the sergeant said. "It's not normally how you would fight a war ... this is an annihilation. This was personal."
Jackson grunted but didn't respond. He'd been looking at the attack as politically motivated, but if this was something personal as the sergeant had suggested that would open up the list of suspects to ... none. It threw an unwelcome wrench into his investigation because he could no longer look at the closest neighbor as the most likely suspect.
Agent Pike's convoluted musings were still bouncing around in his head about the AU possibly making a move on Haven, further muddying the waters. What if Tsuyo Corporation had caught wind of an impending attack and decided to strike first? Xi'an would be a viable staging area and Tsuyo certainly had the firepower. The company quietly operated one of the largest private militaries in existence, including ships so advanced the technology on them wouldn't be sold to the Confederacy for decades, though they claimed it was strictly for research and their powerful fleet was nothing more than a collection of testbeds. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that they had some sort of strategic weapon that could level a planet like this.
His contemplation of the situation was cut short by screaming from his technical team. When he snapped his head up he saw the two engineering specialists holding onto one of the medical specialists, who in turn was hanging onto a probe on the end of a telescopic pole. As he ran towards the commotion he could see the med specialist seemed to be getting pulled towards the slick.
"Drop the fucking probe!" he shouted as he ran along, the Marines chasing after him. If they heard him they gave no indication, as the two engineering techs continued to pull futilely on their crewmate. Before Jackson could reach them the strap to the probe let go, which was the handhold one of the other techs was using, causing both rescuers to lose their grip. The tech holding the probe was half-pulled into the slick with a disgusting slurping sound; he began screaming shrilly, his head and shoulders still out of the ooze.
They all looked on in horror as his struggles and screams got weaker and weaker until the latter stopped with a choked-off gurgling sound. It happened so fast they had no time to try to put together a rescue plan or even toss him a line to try and drag him out.
"Everyone GET BACK!" Jackson shouted, snapping everyone out of their shock. They all retreated to what they felt was a safe thirty meters and watched as their crewmate's body was slowly pulled into the slick, the bent pole of the probe sticking up as an obscene marker for his final resting place.
"Captain, what was that?" a shaken technician asked. Jackson looked over and saw it was someone from Singh's department.
"I have no idea," he said. "But I think it's safe to say we know what happened to the population of this planet. What did we get from that thing before it took him?"
"The probes were all transmitting their readings to this box," the remaining med tech said, holding up a non-descript black impact case. "We also were able to secure a few samples before it reached out and took Lott."
"Very well," Jackson said, not sure what to say. He'd never lost anyone under his command, not even to an accident during shore leave. "Let's not waste the data Specialist Lott collected—"
"Sir!" one of the Marines said, pointing back to the slick. Jackson looked up and saw an offshoot of the mass beginning to accelerate towards them, rolling along the ground quickly.
"Back to the shuttle! Double time!" Jackson said. "Sergeant, inform the pilot we'll be departing as soon as we're all aboard."
"Aye aye, sir," the sergeant responded, not having any issue talking conversationally while running fast enough to keep up with him. Jackson felt a pang of annoyance at that as he was already feeling out of breath and they'd not even covered a quarter of the distance.
They could hear the turbines spooling as they sprinted to the waiting shuttle, the crew chief frantically waving them in. They stomped up the back ramp and threw themselves into their seats, feeling the engines build power before the rear hatch had even swung shut and locked. By the time Jackson had secured his restraints, the turbines were howling as the shuttle climbed up and away from the slick at a steep angle.
****
Jackson barely remembered the shuttle ride back to the ship. He was vaguely aware it took them longer than it usually would because the small craft had to build up a lot of speed before it could change orbits and approach the Blue Jacket as she streaked over the planet. He snapped back to alertness once he felt the gravity inside the shuttle increase as it slowly reversed into the gaping maw of the destroyer's launch bay. The jolt of the ship's docking mechanism as it grabbed the shuttle and snugged it up against the airlock marked the end of a horrific mission in which Specialist Lott was the first person Jackson had ever lost under his command.
"Maintain quarantine protocols on those samples," he said quietly over the noise of the shuttle. "There will be a mission debrief in one hour, conference room on deck one-bravo. Everything that took place on the surface is classified until further notice."
He didn't wait for their acknowledgements. Instead he climbed out of his seat and motioned for the crew chief to open the rear hatch so he could get away.
"Blue Jacket, arriving." Somehow the passionless voice of the computer had an accusatory tone to it as it announced his return. He fled the small craft and the staging area as fast as he reasonably could without actually running. In his mind he felt the accusing stares of the crew. You took them down there. You let him die.
By some miracle he made it to his quarters without being stopped or his comlink requesting his presence. He locked the hatch and violently ripped his rank insignia off his collar before tearing his uniform off with no less vigor. Once inside the private head he turned the water in the shower up to the hottest setting and stepped into the stream, not even flinching as it scalded his skin.
He leaned forward and let his forehead slam into the hard composite of the stall, letting the blistering stream run down his back. After an indeterminate amount of time he shut the water off and stepped out into the steam-filled head, the mist swirling as the small fan tried to pull in the moisture so the environmental systems could extract the water. His skin was bright red where the too-hot water had hit him, but he barely noticed. The screams of Specialist Lott came unbidden to his mind and he turned quickly, vomiting into the toilet.
It was some time later when he felt ready to dry himself off and get into a clean uniform. He walked out into the bedroom of his quarters and saw his comlink flashing with messages from Commander Wright and Commander Owens, the ship's Chief Medical Officer and Specialist Lott's superior.
He entered a quick response to both requesting they be there for the mission debrief and left it at that. As he pawed through his wall locker for another set of fatigues, he saw the box on the bottom shelf. Four small, round caps looked back up at him from the case that had twelve slots. He stared at the one in the top right corner for a full minute with longing, debating with himself how much time he had before he had to be in the conference room. He was the captain, after all. Wouldn't the briefing wait for him?
With waning resolve, he pulled his uniform out of the locker and firmly shut it. Even though he didn't know Lott, and couldn't have picked him out of a lineup, he wouldn't piss on the man's memory by showing up to the mission debrief and talk about his death with glassy eyes. He dressed quickly with a mechanical efficiency born of twenty-three years of repetition. Once his boots were on and had tightened themselves down on his feet, he inspected himself in the mirror while reattaching his rank insignia on one side of the collar and the Blue Jacket's crest on the other. Steeling himself, he keyed the hatch open and walked out into the deserted corridor.
****
"I know emotions are high and nerves are frayed right now, but let's try and get through this without missing anything," Jackson began once all the required attendees had filed into the conference room. As the hatch slid closed he took a deep breath and began recounting the mission on the surface to his staff. He was able to make it through the events of the day without interruption or anyone pointing an accusing finger at him.
"So you're under the assumption that this is a biological weapon of some sort?" Commander Owens said after Jackson had finished the recounting and had shown them the recordings from the tech teams' helmet cameras.
"Assumption may be too strong a word," Jackson said. "It's a working theory at the moment."
Commander Owens seemed to be less interested in the death of one of his specialists than he was in knowing what Jackson intended to do with the samples sitting in Medical.
"As you know, Captain, we have no staff able to test the samples brought back," Owens said. "I would suggest we jettison them or put them in cryogenic storage for the trip back to Haven."
"That's not technically true, Commander," Celesta said, speaking up before Jackson could answer. "There's a microbiologist and an expert on infectious diseases on your staff. You also have an ISO-2 clean room at your disposal which would be sufficient for an agent that isn't even airborne."
Commander Owens looked like he wanted to leap across the table and strangle Celesta.
"Your experts will have plenty to do just going through the remote probe data the team collected," Jackson said, heading off an argument. "While I don't foresee the need to directly test the samples right now, I want them put into cryo storage and preserved. We will not be jettisoning them off the ship."
"Of course, Captain," Owens said, appearing mollified.
"If there is nothing else, you're all dismissed," Jackson said. "Commander Wright will coordinate the memorial service for Specialist Lott and I will prepare a briefing for the crew. It's time everyone knows what we do about what is happening."
****
"Lieutenant Peters," Jackson said as he walked onto the bridge. "I want one of our com drones prepped for flight. It will be a direct course for the Alpha Centauri system. I will update you on the package contents shortly. There are to be no unauthorized communications loaded onto the drone, and I will be checking."
"Yes, sir," Peters said. "Sending the command now to pull a drone out of storage. It will take a few hours before it's ready to launch."
"That's fine," Jackson said. "Lieutenant, you have the bridge. I'll be in my office. Commander Wright will be coming on duty shortly."
He retreated to his office and pulled up a connection to the secure server all the mission data had been stored on. After sifting through it he decided to simply include everything they had, even the horrific video recordings of Specialist First Class Lott's death, in a compressed folder he added to the com packet he would even
tually forward to OPS so that it could be loaded into the com drone.
He again reflected on the "gift" Admiral Winters had given him. In her need to gloat about the demise of his career, she had freed him to respond in ways he never would have before. For instance, he most likely would have tried to suppress the associated imagery of Lott's death for fear his actions leading to it would harm his career or cost him his command. With such considerations no longer hanging over his head like an executioner's axe, he felt he was able to consider the problem with an untainted point of view. He would include everything from the ground mission, in all its gory details, along with a synopsis of his planned actions afterward. He was more concerned about how his crew would react to what he was planning to do next than he was about an admiral sitting over a hundred lightyears away.
Chapter 10
"I'll make this as quick as I can since we all have a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it in," Jackson said, sitting behind his desk and talking to the camera set up in front of him. "I'm sure there are rumors flying around about what we've found in this system, on Xi'an, and even the loss of a crewmate.
"Five days ago we transitioned into the Xi'an system and found it deserted. No ships, no satellites, no com drone platform. As we made orbit we found the destruction was absolute all the way to the surface. Not a single resident of Xi'an was left alive, no structure was left standing, and very little evidence was left to tell us who was responsible." He paused as the pre-arranged images he'd loaded of the destruction scrolled across the monitor.
"It is also with a heavy heart that I tell you about the loss of one of our own. Specialist First Class Davis Lott was killed in action during our investigation of the anomaly found on the surface. Details of his memorial service this evening are posted on the shipwide message board. Specialist Lott was a well-respected member of the Blue Jacket's medical staff and will be missed.
Black Fleet Trilogy 1: Warship Page 10