Terminus Gate (Survival Wars Book 5)

by Anthony James

  “If the Dreamers establish another planet-based weapon, they’ll wipe us out.”

  “And the Ghasts. Their existence is now firmly tied to ours.”

  “Have you told Gol-Tur?”

  “No, and I’m not sure I will. These are high-level military secrets, Captain Duggan. I’m sure the Ghasts have their own research teams. In truth, it probably doesn’t matter if they know.”

  “There are plans, sir?”

  “Yes, there are plans and they’ll likely involve the ESS Crimson.” Teron gave a genuine smile. “There! Did you see that? I managed to say it outright without keeping it shrouded in secrecy.”

  “Will these plans also involve me and my crew?”

  “Let’s wait and see, John. You’re our best officer, but it’s getting to the stage where I’d prefer you to be on my staff, passing on your knowledge and ideas to others. I can’t keep risking you forever.”

  “I’ll always stand up, sir.”

  “I know you will. The time will come when there’s someone else.”

  “If you ever ask me to do something new, I’ll listen with an open mind.”

  “That’s good to know. We’ll have that talk sometime. Not just yet, since there are things unfinished.” Teron sighed again, revealing a depth of weariness. “If I ever ask you to do make the ultimate sacrifice, will you do it?”

  “I’ve shown time and again that I’m not afraid of death. My crew as well.”

  “I don’t mean death. Nothing so simple as that.”

  “What greater sacrifice could you ask?”

  “We’ll see, John, we’ll see. I might never need to ask, but if I do, will you still stand up?”

  “Yes, sir. I do believe I will.”

  Teron looked sorrowful, rather than uplifted by the response, as if Duggan had somehow passed a test the Admiral hoped he would fail. “Very well. My time for this meeting has run out. I’ll send through the few details you’ll need for your involvement in the peace settlement. Goodbye, Captain Duggan.”

  “Goodbye, sir.”

  The screen went blank, leaving Duggan alone in the room with his thoughts. After a minute, he pushed himself to his feet and left. He made his way to the reception area, where Commander McGlashan was sitting in the waiting area, looking glum. She briefly perked up when she saw Duggan arrive, until she realised how preoccupied he was.

  “You’re going to cancel on me, aren’t you?”

  “In a way. We’ve got a mission. There shouldn’t be much risk of death – the stakes are far higher than that.”

  “Peace?” she asked, surprising him with her insight. “They’re sending you to speak with the Ghasts, aren’t they?”

  “That’s exactly what they’re doing. There’s a ship landing tonight and we’ll be on it.”

  “Do you want me to let Bill and Frank know? I’m sure Frank will have something to complain about.”

  “Yes, please. This is as good a place to meet as any. Tell them to get here as soon as possible.”

  “What ship have we been given? The Crimson isn’t ready to go anywhere.”

  “Admiral Teron didn’t say and I didn’t ask. There’s something going on, I’m sure.”

  “Something which we’re eventually going to find out about, only to wish we never had?” she asked with a grin.

  “What makes you say that?” asked Duggan drily.

  McGlashan didn’t answer – something had caught her eye across the landing pad. The radiation-proof shutters had been removed at some point in the last few hours, allowing them to see outside. Duggan looked and saw the vast shape of a spaceship, descending slowly from the deepening blue sky.

  “That’s not our ride, is it?” she asked.

  Duggan walked closer to the windows, with McGlashan following. “I doubt it.” He searched his brain for the name of the ship. “The MHL Gargantua,” he said. “I read about it recently – it’s just come out of the yard. The newest heavy lifter, rumoured to have space for a Hadron inside.”

  The Gargantua came lower and lower, until its incomprehensible bulk blotted out the evening sun and bathed much of the Tillos base in cool shadow. The older heavy lifters were boxy affairs – angular and ungainly. This new addition to the fleet was the shape of a flattened cylinder, dotted at regular intervals with square outcroppings. The front of the vessel was wedge-shaped and streamlined, taking design cues from many of the Space Corps’ warships.

  “It’s impressive,” McGlashan said. “How long do you think it is?”

  “Eight thousand two hundred metres,” said Duggan with confidence. “I checked the specification details when I first learned about it.”

  There were crowds of people everywhere, each pair of eyes looking upwards at the incoming spaceship. The Tillos base rarely saw such overt examples of the Space Corps’ technological and industrial might. In fact, few people in the Confederation could expect to see something so impressive unless they spent their days camped outside a space port.

  “It must be coming for the Rampage,” she said. “Perhaps it sustained more damage than they can repair here.”

  “Perhaps.”

  The MHL Gargantua stopped a kilometre above the surface. Duggan could see activity across the landing field as the repair teams retreated to a safe distance. For the next ten minutes, the vessel remained exactly where it was. Such was the excitement at its arrival that none of the watchers moved away. It was as though a thousand people held their breaths in anticipation of what was to come.

  Then, the underside doors of the Gargantua slid open, revealing the cavernous interior of the spaceship. From this distance, it was hard to make out specifics – there were shapes and forms within and Duggan thought he could see rows of colossal gravity clamps.

  “Here we go,” said McGlashan.

  Slowly but surely, the ES Rampage rose from its docking trench, drawn upwards by the heavy lifter’s gravity chains. The warship was over three thousand metres long and weighed more than ten billion tonnes. Duggan was sure the crew on the Gargantua were sweating, but they made it look effortless. The lift took twenty minutes to complete, during which time Lieutenants Breeze and Chainer arrived. Neither of them spoke much beyond a quick greeting, so intent were they on what was happening.

  “It’s done,” said Breeze at last. The ES Rampage disappeared into the hold of the heavy lifter. The cargo doors stayed open and the warship remained visible to the people below.

  “I don’t think so,” said Duggan. “Look.”

  The MHL Gargantua wasn’t finished. It drifted smoothly and quietly across the sky to a new location nearby.

  “There’s only one ship left,” said McGlashan.

  The ESS Crimson was visible in its trench, a mix of dull and shiny from the partially-removed coating of osmium. Moments after it stopped, the Gargantua began its second lift. The Crimson was heavier per cubic metre than the Rampage, but weighed less than twenty percent as much overall. Up it went, until it joined the Galactic class heavy cruiser in the lifter’s bay. The cargo doors closed, leaving no visible seam on the Gargantua’s hull.

  “That was spectacular,” said Breeze.

  “They’re not hanging around now they’ve got what they came for,” said McGlashan, her finger raised in needless indication.

  The shape of Gargantua receded gradually as it climbed towards the upper atmosphere. Duggan thought he might have just detected a vibration in the air to indicate the stresses being placed on the lifter’s gravity drives. In minutes, it was gone and the crowds drifted away, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

  Duggan and the others stayed where they were. Their wait was rewarded when a tiny dot appeared overhead. It grew bigger and bigger, until it was close enough for them to be sure it wasn’t the Gargantua returning.

  “That’ll be ours,” said Duggan. “Let’s get ourselves a car and go meet it.”

  Chapter Six

  Two hours later, Duggan and the others were cruising at a high lightspeed towards their de
stination on an Imposition class cruiser called ES Castigate. The Castigate had clean lines and looked like a deliberate cross between the Crimson and a smaller version of a Ghast Oblivion. Its appearance took some getting used to, though Duggan was sure he’d grow to like it.

  “Three days until we get there at this speed,” said Breeze. “If they start building these Imposition warships in big numbers I’ll be a happy man.”

  “I’m looking through the Space Corps datafiles,” said Duggan. “The Castigate was signed off for service only a week ago. Apparently, they’re going to phase out the Anderlechts entirely over the next twenty years and replace them with an equivalent number of warships like these.”

  “Had nobody told you about them, sir?” asked Chainer.

  “I’m too wise to be upset when I discover my ignorance of plans I have no real need to be aware of,” said Duggan. “Besides, the strategic decision was only made a couple of weeks ago. There are three Imposition class in service as we speak, each one as new as the Castigate.”

  “That’s the same number as they made of the Galactic class, isn’t it?” asked Breeze.

  “If memory serves, it is,” Duggan replied. “The Space Corps likes to trial new ideas before committing to the construction of dozens.”

  “We’ve got it all. Two thousand five hundred metres in length and bristling with more Lambdas and nukes than you can shake a stick at, as well as one medium-range disruptor and two Splinter anti-missile systems,” said McGlashan. “There are eighty fully-equipped soldiers in their quarters aft, none of whom I recognize the names of. We have tanks and artillery in our cargo bay. On top of that, there’s a single Shatterer launch tube and room to retrofit three additional ones.”

  “There are manufacturing issues on our version of the Shatterers,” said Duggan. “The failure rate on the missiles is high, so we don’t have enough to go around. I’ve been told the ones which do work are still a way behind the Ghast versions.”

  “It’s better than we had,” said Chainer. “Are they going to fit them on warships other than the Imposition class?”

  “The Galactic class were designed with flexibility in mind, so they’ll get them,” said Duggan. “The Hadron hulls were always a generation ahead of their time – we simply lacked the weaponry to take advantage of the fact.”

  “The things money will buy you, eh?”

  “Money and determination, Lieutenant. One without the other gets you nowhere fast.”

  “Is the Confederation still at total war?” asked McGlashan.

  “It is. Expect that to change immediately we settle with the Ghasts.”

  “What happens to these flashy new spaceships after that?” asked Chainer.

  “Teron’s a smart man,” said Duggan. “I’ll bet he’s managed to commit the Space Corps to long-term, legally-binding contracts to keep the warship building running as planned. By the time the Confederation Council think of a way to terminate our commitments, we’ll have replaced most of the fleet.”

  “Is it the end of the line for the Gunners as well?” asked Breeze.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if we were left with fewer than a hundred at the end of this.” Duggan had a fondness for the Vincent class and he stifled a sigh. “It’s for the best. Times have changed, along with the requirements for our spacecraft. We could send a hundred Gunners against a Dreamer battleship and we’d come off worst. You can’t keep throwing money at obsolete equipment.”

  “They could put stealth modules in a few to act as scouts.”

  “That may be what they’ll do. Remember the ES Lightning needed extensive – and expensive – modifications in order to run the modules.” He shrugged. “We’ll see.”

  The conversation appeared to be winding down. Chainer had other ideas. “Isn’t Imposition a bit provocative these days? In this time of comradeship and understanding, shouldn’t they have named them something a bit friendlier?”

  Duggan shook his head. “I wonder what goes on your mind sometimes, Lieutenant.”

  “Best not to think about it too hard,” said Breeze, unable to resist.

  “They’ll have come up with the name quite possibly several years ago,” said Duggan, responding in spite of himself. “Once a name sticks, it’s hard to change. And I can think of many reasons why it’s important for the fleet to project a warlike impression, whether or not we’re at peace.”

  The Castigate was fitted with a brutally fast AI core, which estimated their travel time to within ten seconds of the actual. The warship exited lightspeed into an area of neutral space, far from any significant populated outposts.

  “It’s pretty crowded around here,” said Chainer.

  “Keep on high alert until we’re sure everything is as it should be,” said Duggan. “What’ve we got?”

  “Hadrons Devastator and Maximilian, along with the ES Terminus, sir. Nice to see the Terminus again.”

  “What else?”

  “There are two Space Corps VIP personnel transporters – big ones - and they look as if they’ve been polished to within an inch of their lives.”

  Duggan watched the sensor feed. “That’s where the talking will take place,” he said. “I’ve been on one of those, many years ago. They’re as close to luxury as you’ll find in the Corps. The Confederation’s representatives must have travelled on them.”

  “The Trivanor is in the vicinity,” said Chainer in surprise. The Ghast Oblivion had been knocked out of the sky by the Dreamer mothership. The damage had evidently not been as terminal as it appeared at the time. “It looks like shit, but the readings from their engines suggest they’re right back at full power.”

  “I doubt the Archimedes is much past fifty percent,” said Duggan. “The Ghasts must have discovered a better way to mitigate the effects of the Dreamer engine scramblers.”

  “They adapt well to change,” said McGlashan.

  “I’ve had a friendly hail from the Ghast battleship Akstron and the heavy cruiser Oretsen, sir.”

  “Three of theirs and three of ours,” said Duggan.

  “Now four of ours,” Breeze added.

  “I’m sure another Ghast ship will show up at some point to even the numbers,” said Duggan. “That’s how I’d want it too.”

  “Everything looks calm and collected, sir,” said Chainer. “What happens next?”

  Duggan grinned. “I have no idea. My mission brief is somewhat lacking in detail.”

  “Are we going to sit around until someone asks what we’re here for?” asked Breeze.

  “Not a chance,” said Duggan. “I never did like waiting. Lieutenant Chainer, get me a meeting with Gol-Tur. Alone and at his first available opportunity.”

  “I’m on it.”

  Confirmation didn’t take long and shortly, Duggan found himself in the cockpit of the Castigate’s surprisingly plush shuttle, heading towards the Trivanor. The Ghast battleship was streaked with scars and energy burns, giving it an even more threatening appearance than usual. He checked in with McGlashan to see if anyone from the Confederation’s delegation had asked for him.

  “Negative, sir. They know we’re here, but they don’t seem to care.”

  Duggan chuckled. “Teron’s a wily old bastard. I’ll bet no one knows what I’m doing here.”

  “And since you are here, they’ll assume it’s in an official capacity.”

  “I’ll have to be careful I don’t ruffle any feathers by going straight to the Trivanor, instead of meeting our illustrious representatives.”

  “I’m sure it’ll work out, sir.”

  He docked after a short flight and triggered the exit ramp as soon as the atmosphere in the bay was sufficient to for him to disembark. Last time he’d come here, there’d been two Ghast soldiers to escort him to his destination. This time there were four, though Duggan had no idea if the increased number had any significance or meaning. Certainly, he wasn’t planning to start a fight.

  A walk through the Oblivion’s interior followed, terminating inev
itably at the door to Gol-Tur’s room. The door slid aside and Duggan entered. His mind had already painted a picture of what he expected to find and the scene was identical to his mental brushstrokes, even down to the unusual species of plant which Gol-Tur kept in one corner. It was exactly the same as last time – blue-tiled floor, wooden desk, chairs, screens on the wall. The Ghast was sitting in one of the three uncomfortable seats, dressed in grey. His eyes were fixed on Duggan.

  “Greetings, John Duggan.”

  “Subjos Gol-Tur,” acknowledged Duggan. He helped himself to one of the two chairs opposite the Ghast, wondering if the creator of the seat had actively striven to make it as unpleasant a place to spend time as possible. “I am pleased to find our two species have made progress.”

  “That we have,” said the Ghast, his interpretation module reproducing the harshness of his voice.

  “Are the negotiations concluded?”

  “They were effectively concluded the moment the Dreamer mothership was destroyed. What has followed is little more than details. We could sign an accord at any moment, but these things are unnecessarily complicated. Each crease in the sheet needs progressively greater attention.”

  “What do you need me for?” Duggan asked.

  The Ghast’s lined face adopted an expression Duggan had rarely seen from these aliens before. With a start, he realised Gol-Tur was smiling. “The men you sent to negotiate are not soldiers. They talk and they talk and I am weary of listening to it. I realised that if I were to understand my former enemies, I should speak to one who is like me. Someone who has experienced fighting and known what it’s like to see his fellows die.”

  Duggan nodded. “I have seen plenty of both.”

  “What are your hopes for the future?”

  “I am tired of fighting. In my heart I know I will miss it when it ends, but I know the time for it to cease is long past.”

  “Will it really end when we sign our accord?” asked Gol-Tur, his eyes never leaving Duggan’s.