Gravity Storm: Age of Expansion - A Kurtherian Gambit Series (Shadow Vanguard Book 1)

by Tom Dublin

  His skin began to burn as the freezing water flowed over his body, easing his muscle cramps and jolting him awake more than any dose of caffeine ever could.

  That said, he would still treat himself to an 'angry coffee', as he liked to call his beverage of choice before setting off for the rigors of the day, adding four shots of strong espresso to his cup with just a dash of boiling water.

  The shower over, Jack stepped back out into his temporary bedroom and toweled himself dry before launching into his usual regime of stretches.

  This was something he'd picked up while serving in the Marines as a way of ensuring he remained supple enough to handle any overtly physical surprises at a moment's notice.

  His EM training hadn't prepared him for the many styles of fighting Nathan had put him and his crew through over the last couple of days.

  They had received instruction in just about everything from close quarters combat to an extreme form of Krav Maga. The result - aside from his protesting muscles - was a reminder that he needed to be ready for anything now that he was stepping into the perilous side of life once more.

  He flicked on the coffee machine, listening to it hiss and spit while he dressed in figure-hugging black sweats in preparation for the morning's exertions.

  He knew that Tc'aarlat and Adina would both be wearing the same for their scheduled sessions but, while his new navigator would carry off the outfit with effortless style and athletic grace, his Yollin partner would once again resemble a badly-wrapped stack of broken bricks.

  The image brought a smile to his face as he snatched up the cup of steaming black java, downing it in two swift gulps. Then, with a brief pause to study his reflection in the mirror fixed to the back of the door, he left the room and set off for another tough but satisfying day of exhaustion and agony.

  ICS Fortitude, Bridge

  The ICS Fortitude fired its forward thrusters, slowing as it approached the gate.

  Adina concentrated hard on the screens of the navigation panel, quickly making the necessary calculations required to manually input the pitch and yaw settings required for smooth transfer to another part of space.

  Acting confidently, she reached across the desk to flick the necessary switches, and tap a series of commands into the cargo ship's computer system.

  Suddenly, an alarm sounded and lights began to flash all across the bridge.

  Adina glanced up at the main screens, quickly realizing that the freighter was unexpectedly pulling to the left. Had those idiots loaded the cargo unevenly yet again?

  She spun back to her control panel, her fingers dancing across the several different keyboards as she fought to correct the error.

  But the alarms refused to silence.

  Now, the edge of the gate was looming large in screens all around the bridge, the image growing bigger by the second.

  There was a deafening screech as the port side of the ship made contact with the side of the gate, sloughing off decades of faded paint and smashing external cameras, antennae and doors to airlocks alike.

  Six seconds later, the ICS Fortitude exploded, completely destroying the gate and killing everyone on board.

  "Gott Verdammt!" cursed Adina, slumping back in her seat as the virtual reality simulator began to reset itself around her.

  The door to the simulation room opened and Ecaterina stepped inside, reading the damage report displayed on the screen behind Adina's chair.

  "Botched the gate transfer procedure, huh?"

  "Third time in a row," sighed Adina. "But at least I didn't rupture the fuel cells and irradiate a nearby solar system this time."

  Ecaterina winced. "Yikes!"

  "Is all this really necessary?" asked Adina. "You promised the ship is having a new Entity Intelligence installed. Won't that handle all these tricky maneuvers?"

  “Ordinarily, yes," replied Ecaterina with a nod. "But you need to be able to work the bridge manually in case the EI becomes corrupted, or even shuts down completely."

  "OK," Adina said, gritting her teeth and clicking the command for the computer to launch yet another random simulation. "Here goes nothing."

  Ecaterina reached over to hit the pause icon on the screen. "Before you do that..."

  She reached into her pocket and produced a clear pill bottle. Inside were dozens of tiny black tablets, each with a small yellow dot on one side.

  Adina took the bottle and stared at it. "My meds?"

  Ecaterina nodded. "Safely produced in the Federation's own pharmacy labs," she disclosed. "No more buying dodgy drugs from obnoxious little parasites in dark alleyways, OK?"

  Adina's eyes widened. "But, that means-"

  "Don't panic," Ecaterina said, cutting her off. "No-one knows who they're for. My position on board does have certain privileges, you know."

  Adina wrapped her arms around her friend, hugging her tightly.

  "Thank you!"

  "No problem," Ecaterina smiled. "Now, get back to work and see if you can at least get one crew safely through a gate without blasting them into billions of screaming atoms!"

  Federation Base Station 11, Alexi Romanov Lecture Theater

  Tc'aarlat stood on the stage and swung the lure in circles above his head, keeping the line at a steady fifteen feet as it twirled.

  Mist was perched on the back of a seat near the rear of the auditorium, her sharp eyes following the fake wings fixed to the sides of the lure, waiting for her master to give her permission to strike.

  Squinting, Tc'aarlat could just about see the hawk's claws flexing, ready to release her grip on the seat and take flight.

  He waited a few more seconds, then clicked his mandibles together and gave a shrill whistle.

  Instantly, Mist was airborne, wings spread wide and beak pointed to the spot in the air where she had already calculated the prey would be at the split-second she arrived.

  As always, her estimation was spot on. She stabbed at the lure with her beak, causing it to wobble as it continued on its circular journey.

  A second whistle from Tc'aarlat saw her bank to the right and swoop back to land on the leather pad affixed to his shoulder and receive a chunk of muri meat as a reward.

  Mist lifted one foot in order to clamp the cube of flesh under her claw, so that she could tear strips of the morsel with her beak to devour.

  The Yollin reached up to scratch the side of her head, the bird rewarding him with a soft currr.

  Mist hadn't exactly appeared delighted to spend the past few days cooped up in a small guest room with her owner.

  It was bad enough spending time on the ICS Fortitude, but at least she could fly around any of the cargo decks which happened to be free of freight and get some exercise.

  She could barely even expand her wings to their full span in Tc'aarlat's tiny room.

  Jack and Tc'aarlat had been shown the lecture theater during their initial tour of the Base Stations' facilities. At the time, a university class about the event horizons of black holes had been in full swing. But Tc'aarlat had spotted the potential of the vast room as a place to exercise Mist.

  So, once he was settled, he had inquired about the possibility of using the space when it wasn't being used for educational purposes. A request which had been quickly granted.

  He and Mist were listed on today's schedule between a beginners' class on quantum mechanics, and a lengthy reading from and discussion about the life and work of famed Yollin spelunker and folk singer, Unshak'lak.

  Tc'aarlat had promised he and his hawk would have vacated the room long before that session started.

  For his own sanity more than anything else.

  But, as useful as the lecture theater was for Mist to stretch her wings, it still wasn't ideal.

  "I know girl," cooed Tc'aarlat, reeling in the line of the lure. "You've not exactly had a chance to get out and feel the fresh air on your feathers lately, have you? But at least big rooms like this are better than spending all day on the cramped bridge of the ship."

 
"Which actually isn't quite so cramped any longer," said a voice behind him.

  Tc'aarlat turned to find Nathan heading his way down the lecture theater's left aisle, striding past row after row of empty seats towards the equally deserted stage area.

  Mist hopped from leg to leg excitedly as the man approached. This was the human who frequently carried treats in the deep pockets of his coat.

  And today was no exception.

  Nathan produced a ball of compacted Yollin wist maize and rolled it between his fingers. The sphere of grain was soaked in honey, smeared with salt, and then baked until it was hard.

  The result was a common treat given to many of the indigenous animals of Yoll, although the snack had also proved to be popular with the now co-resident humans as an alternative to sugary breakfast cereals.

  Yoll's cereal manufacturers had printed new packaging in an effort to market what they considered animal feed back to these strange-habited arrivals.

  Nathan tossed the maize ball to Mist, who snatched it in her beak, and began to crunch down hard on it.

  Right in Tc'aarlat's left ear.

  "Thanks for that!" He groaned, jerking his shoulder to dislodge the noisy eater. With a disgruntled craw, Mist flapped as far as the edge of the stage's wooden lecture and continued to devour the tasty morsel.

  "So," said Tc'aarlat, stepping forward to shake Nathan's hand. "You were saying something about the bridge on the Fortitude?"

  Nathan nodded. "It's ready," he beamed. "E.I. installed, new high-resolution camera system up and running. The works. And it's not just the bridge. The whole ship's good to go."

  Tc'aarlat's mandibles pulled wide in surprise. "Already?" he queried, warily. "I thought you were going to upgrade both main engines?"

  "We have," Nathan promised. "And we've made one or two other improvements which we think you'll enjoy. Want to go see?"

  Tc'aarlat grinned. "Does the Pope shit in the woods?"

  Nathan blinked, blank.

  "What?" demanded Tc'aarlat, frowning. "Isn't that one of your human figures of speech? I'm sure I've heard Jack say it before."

  "It's possible you may be confusing it with something else," Nathan suggested politely.

  Tc'aarlat shrugged. "Whatever," he said. "I'm not even sure what a Pope is, to be perfectly honest. From what Jack's told me, I'm guessing it's quite powerful. Something like a fertile female bistok, perhaps; sharp teeth, covered in thick fur, and fighting to protect its young. Am I close?"

  "Near enough," replied Nathan, doing his best to conceal his smirk. "What say we go check out the ship. I've arranged for Jack and Adina to meet us in the hangar."

  Tc'aarlat whistled for Mist, who returned to her perch on his shoulder pad just as the back doors to the theater opened and a large crowd of people began to file in and sit down.

  "Wow," said Tc'aarlat as he and Nathan made their way toward the backstage exit. "Who knew dreary songs about big holes in the ground were so popular."

  11

  Federation Base Station 11, Combat Training Center

  A foot clad in a thick-soled leather shoe made contact with Jack's stubbled jaw.

  Hard.

  His head snapped round to the left and, in an effort to minimize damage to his spine, Jack leapt into the air, twisting his entire body in the same direction.

  As he landed, the heel of a hand slammed into his back, sending him sprawling across the thin rubber mats covering the training center's floor.

  Jack rolled, spinning round and jumping back to his feet just in time to block the fist headed in his direction. Reaching out, he grabbed the offending arm at the elbow, locking it in place, and bringing his other hand up to strike his opponent's nose.

  There was a sickening crack! and Ricky Smith staggered backwards, wiping a rivulet of fresh blood from his upper lip with his sleeve. "Ooh," he smiled, his eyes sparkling. "That was smooth!"

  Both combatants paused for a moment while Ricky’s nose repaired itself, the splintered bones realigning themselves and damaged tissue making good.

  "I'd be out for at least day from that if I hadn't spent time in the pod-doc," commented one of the Federation’s New Rangers. "Nice move. I'm glad I accepted Nathan's invitation to come here and help you train."

  The New Rangers, the next generation brought up with the ideals of the original Rangers, John Grimes and Tabitha. And the work ethic. Even with being enhanced or Were, training was critical for sustained superior performance.

  Jack held out his hand, palm up, and flicked his fingertips upwards once, twice - gesturing for Ricky to attack him again. "Plenty more where that came from," he grinned.

  "Promises, promises!" Ricky chuckled.

  Jack expected the Ranger to charge at him but, instead, he struck a casual pose, hands on hips, as if both unafraid and unprepared.

  "Reckon you can handle this, do you?"

  Jack allowed himself a smile. "Well, if you insist…"

  Snarl!

  Jack sighed.

  "There's a werewolf behind me, isn't there?"

  Ricky nodded, thoroughly amused. “There is,” he confirmed, standing easily on the balls of his feet, his earlier pose of indifference gone. "Word of advice Captain Marber - don't allow yourself to become distracted in the midst of a battle."

  Jack dragged his concentration away from the Ranger before him and listened for the sound of long claws scraping against the surface of the floor mats.

  Carefully deducing the exact moment the werewolf began to pounce, Jack hurled himself to one side, hitting the ground and rolling away from the immense, grey-furred beast.

  Caught off-balance, the werewolf turned, his mouth wide and long strings of saliva spraying in Ricky’s direction. The second ranger nimbly jumped out of the way of the incoming strings of expectorate, an expression of disgust washing over his face as the floor was spattered with slimy spit.

  "Would you stop that bullshit!" Ricky snarled.

  As the second Ranger finally found his footing and rocketed forward, Jack dropped to the floor, first parting his legs wide, then scissoring them back together with as much force as he could muster.

  He caught the werewolf's head tightly between his thighs and began to pummel its snout with punches. The werewolf howled in frustration, its jaws snapping together as it tried to meet each new blow with a painful bite.

  Realizing he couldn't pull himself free, the second Ranger instead opted to lunge forward, scrambling over his victim and pushing him onto his back. Jack's eyes widened as the wolf's hot breath seared the now exposed skin of his throat, and he fought to pull his knees up to his chest, and plant his feet against the creature's vulnerable underbelly.

  Thrusting his legs upwards, he allowed the momentum of the latest charge to tip him further backwards, sending the wolf up and over his head where it landed in an ungainly heap.

  Jack was on his feet in seconds, as was the Were.

  The two fighters circled each other, neither daring to take their eyes away from the other for a split-second.

  The werewolf threw back his head and bellowed.

  "RRROOOAAAAAARRR!"

  Jack cricked his neck noisily from one side to the other. "Well, here goes nothin'..."

  Rising up onto his toes, Jack began to yell what he hoped sounded like a terrifying battle cry as he raced towards the second Ranger.

  "YYYAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHH!"

  Wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel, Ricky winced as the werewolf lashed out with one of his massive paw’s razor sharp claws slicing a trio of deep gashes across the side of Jack's face.

  Jack hit the ground both awkwardly and hard, his right foot twisting the wrong way around as the ankle bone snapped, a jagged white point ripping through the skin. Blood gushed from the wound, pooling on the mats around the damaged extremity.

  "Ooh," exclaimed Ricky, grimacing. "That's gotta sting!"

  The werewolf glared down at the twisted body of his opponent, stomping in his direction. Jack felt the thudding
footsteps reverberating through the floor and made an effort to push himself up by his hands.

  "OK," he groaned as the shadow fell across him. "No more Mr Nice Guy. Now, I'm taking the gloves off!"

  Then he collapsed, face first, onto the floor.

  Ricky hurried over to tug at the second Ranger’s furry leg and get his attention. "I think he's had enough for now," he said.

  The shaggy head growled, but backed off.

  Ricky nodded. "At least give him chance to get up again..."

  He glanced down at Jack's broken and bleeding ankle and added. "If he can."

  As he watched, the piece of broken bone jutting through Jack's skin began to retreat back inside the torn flesh, and his foot turned as the ankle proceeded to mend itself.

  "Hey! You've been in a pod-doc, too!"

  Jack rolled himself painfully onto his back and looked up at him. The gashes on his cheek were also now busy repairing themselves.

  "My platoon was hit by an IED while on patrol on some pathetic excuse for a planet in the Venford System," he explained. "Two of my guys didn't make it. I was one of the lucky ones, and only had to spend three weeks in the nearest pod, on a base four light years away."

  His foot now facing its usual direction, Jack took Ricky’s proffered hand and stood, tentatively testing his injured ankle by putting weight onto it. It hurt, and was likely to do so for quite a while, but at least he was able to walk again.

  "So," he commented, looking up into the coal-black eyes of the werewolf Ranger. "Best, two out of three?"

  Before the werewolf could reply, Turing's voice echoed around the room. "Excuse me, Captain Marber. I'm so sorry to interrupt your training session like this..."

  "It's no problem," replied Jack, taking the towel from Ricky and using it to dab at what remained of the scratches on his cheek. By now, they were little more than angry, red scars. "Go ahead."

  "Thank you, Jack," said Turing. "Nathan has asked if you would kindly meet him and the other members of your team at dry dock F2 as soon as possible."