Legions of Orion (Star Crusades Nexus, Book 1)

by Michael G. Thomas

“The crew will be at their stations or waiting near the evacuation points in case the order is given by the Captain,” he explained.

  The young Lieutenant made it just a few metres from the entrance when a fusillade of thermal rounds struck their position. The weapons were archaic, and the kind normally used by smugglers and criminal gangs. Nonetheless, the marines were forced to pull themselves to cover as the super-heated scatter shot embedded itself around their position. One marine was hit in the shoulder and spun out of control back through the doorway. More flickers of light gave away the enemy positions, and Lieutenant Davies was forced to pull himself behind a narrow bulkhead to avoid being hit. He tapped his comms gear and connected directly with Captain Raikes.

  “Captain, we’ve arrived at the service entrance and come under fire.”

  Another burst struck a marine as he returned fire with his carbine. The difference in weapons was apparent in both report and effect. Each time the shotguns fired, they sent a low velocity burst of molten metal that struck armour and glass and burned through. The metal projectile fired from the carbines, on the other hand, was designed to squash but not shatter on impact.

  “Marines, push them back! We need the control station!”

  With that order, the surviving marines pulled themselves into cover and fired back, each taking aim at the two muzzle flashes from the enemy. It was difficult to tell if they’d hit them, but in less than a minute, the shotguns ceased firing. The marines were able to push ahead nearly twenty metres to reach the station. Tex made it to the station first and pulled open the security panel.

  “Lieutenant, the system has been deactivated.”

  Lieutenant Davies pulled himself along the right-hand wall and around the flank of the system. The control station was large, easily the size of a man, and consisted of three large displays and a rather antiquated looking computer system. It was, of course, all heavily ruggedized and intended to operate even after the effects of a major electromagnetic attack. Advanced systems were not required for this part of the ship, just simple and reliable electrical and mechanical systems. The Lieutenant reached out to touch the system to activate it, but the Sergeant grabbed his hand and stopped him at the last moment.

  “Sir, they’ve probably booby trapped it. Let Arnauld have a look first.”

  Lieutenant Davies nodded in agreement, secretly kicking himself that he’d almost made such a rookie mistake. It was common knowledge in most of the military units that the non-commissioned officers were the ones with the experience, and that the junior officers were green and couldn’t be trusted. He’d tried hard to avoid the stereotype, but it was small things like this that seemed to prove the rule once more. He nodded at his Sergeant and stepped away to ensure the site was secure. There was a red stain on the wall, presumably from one of the two that had been shooting at them.

  “Sir, we’ve secured the station. There are at least two assailants, and they’ve moved back into the service areas,” he explained on his radio.

  “Good work. Can you get the system back online?”

  He glanced over to the Sergeant and spotted Corporal Arnauld pulling out one of the boards and removing cabling. It was a surprisingly quick operation, and in just a few more seconds, the man reached up and hit a button that powered up the system. The operating system was based on the solid-state chips that had been used for hundreds of years and allowed it to activate and start managing systems in less than three seconds. Systems like this were built to run parallel to the main networked system in case of attack or damage.

  “Well, she’s up and ready. Looks like whoever did this knew where to hurt us. They’ve cut all computer control to the systems from elsewhere in the ship. I’m directing the starting charge to the powerplants, and they should fire up right away.”

  He glanced back to his commander, looking for the signal to continue.

  “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t do this?” he asked as a glimmer of doubt entered his mind.

  “Well, it will restart all the main systems, including air filtration, habitation rotation and fuel management to the engines. There is nowhere else on the ship outside of the CIC where so much control exists. Like I said, they knew what they were doing.”

  Lieutenant Davies shook his head slowly.

  “Yeah, that’s what worries me. Don’t you think they’d have disabled this system?”

  His internal comms gear activated, surprising him by the noise in the near silence.

  “Lieutenant, we’re running out of time. What the hell is keeping you down there?”

  He swallowed before replying. “The computer management system is ready. I was about to start the power sequence.”

  “Then do it and send your men to hunt down!” barked the Captain.

  Once again the young Lieutenant hesitated, but another order shouted down and into his helmet finally forced his hand. He looked to Corporal Arnauld and nodded for him to proceed.

  * * *

  The first indication things were finally returning to normal, was when the lights came back on. It was a simple matter, but the bright white lights instantly transformed the interior of the CIC, revealing the extent of the panic and injuries caused by the lack of gravity and light.

  Dammit, thought Captain Raikes. I should have been prepared for this kind of thing.

  There wasn’t time to worry though as Lieutenant Rob Davis, the Communications Officer, received an urgent message.

  “Sir, Lieutenant Davies reports the main generators are back online.”

  To emphasis the moment, the majority of the computer displays activated, as well as the artificial gravity and air circulation system. Captain Raikes allowed himself a brief moment’s relaxation, checking the status of each item as one by one the main systems restarted.

  “How long do we have?”

  There was no time to answer as on the main screen a bright flickering shape indicated the arrival of the Rift. It flashed and shook like water being dropped into a beaker of water before settling down.

  “We’re too far away. What is the distance to the Rift?” he asked.

  “Uh...three point two kilometres, Sir,” explained the navigator.

  “I see. Plot a course correction and get us into position. We only have a few minutes.”

  If any of the crew had checked, they would have quickly spotted the propulsion sensor flag that indicated failures at two points in the main engines. It was the worry about the main power units and the rift generator that had diverted their attention away from something us mundane, but also as critical, as the ability to move through space. The problem was with both the primary heat exchanger and the secondary turbo pump. The incorrect mixture pushed out into the propulsion chamber and exploded when ignited. Rather than pushing the craft forward, the fuel ignited and destroyed the already damaged heat exchanger, instantly cutting the flow of fuel and tearing a chunk of the engine assembly off and into space. Red lights flashed inside the CIC, and Captain Raikes watched in horror as the propulsion alarms sounded. The Chief Engineer looked at him aghast.

  “Sir, we’ve got a problem!”

  * * *

  Admiral Anderson waited patiently as the countdown was read out. It felt like a week since they’d started up the system the first time and sent ANS Beagle through on its maiden voyage. Though it should be no different to the last time, the system was activated, he was well aware that there was nothing normal about creating a Spacebridge. The fact that the large rifts were created in space rather than on planets was obvious to them all now. But even in space, the forces unleashed by the equipment on the station could vaporise everything within a hundred kilometres. The memories of the Rift Incident on Euryale, was a reminder to them all about what could happen if even the simplest mistake was made.

  “Five...four...three...two...one...activate!” called out the senior engineer.

  Admiral Anderson held his breath as the countdown reached its climax. On the main screen, the image of the energy field appea
red that marked the opening of the Rift in space. As before, the entrance to the tunnel was created, and to the cheers of approval of those around him, the second one-way Spacebridge in history to be created was established. One of the technicians started the clock that gave them no more than twenty-two minutes until they would run out of power and need to shut down the system, and therefore the bridge. That would give them a safe margin of error with the power systems, and also enough redundant power to operate if any of the generators suffered problems while keeping the Rift open. It was another benefit of having a larger rift in space, rather than on a planet, in that the cold, airless vacuum of space provided the perfect cooling system for such advanced and extremely hot machinery.

  Well, at least it worked, he though happily, but his nerves still felt frayed.

  Though nicknamed a rift, it was technically a type of traversable wormhole held open by a spherical shell of exotic matter often known as a Morris-Thorne wormhole. The design had much in common with the theories postulated by the late twentieth century scientists, Kip Thorne and Mike Morris. Not that most people realised it, but the solution had ultimately required additional information for it to work properly. Detailed analysis of the ruins around the Anomaly Spacebridge, as well as the intelligence recovered from Hyperion, had been vital in their rapid and reliable construction.

  “Excellent work,” he announced in a calm and collected tone. He turned to his communications officer.

  “Now get me in touch with Captain Raikes. We need to perform the link, and fast.”

  * * *

  “One second, Sir, almost there,” said the Chief Engineer. To everyone’s surprise a number of the computer displays lit up, and then some of the main lights activated.

  “Right, comms are back, and I’ve isolated three network nodes in the CIC. There’s enough power stored on this level to power comms and orientation thrusters. The rest should be coming online about...now.”

  He had no time to thank him as the mainscreen lit up and showed the interior of an Alliance station. It was Admiral Anderson. More lights flickered, and each of the systems started to power up as if there had been nothing more than a power cut on ANS Beagle.

  “Captain, what’s happening?” he asked in a concerned tone.

  “Sabotage, Sir! We lost main power. The habitation ring is down, and our powerplants were offline. Systems are coming back online, but it will take time. We’ve got another problem though. Our primary propulsion system has been destroyed.”

  “What? Can you get into position to reconnect to the bridge?”

  “Working on it, Sir. How long can you keep the bridge open?”

  The Admiral turned to his staff for a few seconds, and he could see two engineers having a heated argument. Finally, he turned back to the camera.

  “If we push our systems to breaking point, I can keep her open for thirty-two minutes. Anymore, and the power units on this station will hit critical. I am sending in a rescue party, and they will be at your position in four minutes. It is up to you, Captain. Either get your power system online and complete the connection, or get your people off the ship and back through the Rift. Commodore Lewis is commanding the relief effort. He has escorts that can assist in towing you into position. Whatever happens, you must do one or the other before the clock runs out. Stay in touch.”

  Captain Raikes nodded, and the screen changed back to an external view of the space station in orbit around Prometheus. Anderson was worried, and there was little he could now do other than send in more ships.

  “Can’t we connect to her from her current location?” he asked.

  The two nearest engineers shook their heads.

  “No, Sir,” said the first. “The connection window is very small, just under a kilometre. The only other option is for us to shutdown and create a new rift.”

  “But we don’t have the power for that now for almost a day, right?” he asked, but deep down he already knew the answer. The man nodded in agreement.

  * * *

  Commodore Lewis watched the approach of the Rift from the main display in the CIC of ANS Dragon. The ship was the most technologically advanced ship in the fleet, but even her thick armour and strong internal structure failed to instil confidence in him. He’d seen firsthand what happened when a warship entered an unstable spacebridge in the past. Even a minor power fluctuation could cause the space-based anomaly to tear his vessel apart in the blink of an eye.

  At least it will be quick, he thought half-heartedly.

  Stood next to him was a fully armoured marine, wearing the insignia of a senior Captain. He waited patiently while the Commodore saw to the rest of the small force as it moved through the Rift. They reached a distance of just a few metres away before he turned to the marine.

  “I’m sending in the two frigates to work as tugs to get this bridge open. Your job is going to be to root out these saboteurs. Information from the Beagle says there are at least two on board with thorough knowledge of the vessel and her systems.”

  “Sir,” answered Captain Tim Howell. “Do we have any information on their weapons and capabilities?”

  “Just two things. First, they’re using thermal shotguns. Second, they’ve already injured two and killed one marine. Be careful when you get inside, they have knowledge and experience of the ship.”

  “Understood, Sir, I’ll bring them in.”

  He saluted and walked away from the CIC to meet the rest of his team. Commodore Lewis watched him leave before the proximity alarms sounded and brought his attention back to the Rift.

  “Sir, we’re entering the Spacebridge...now,” said the helmsman.

  He held his breath; the doubts and concerns over the experimental Rift now starting to surface. The last thing he wanted was to be stretched and ripped apart over thousands of lights years of space. It was almost as his previous encounters with the rifts in space, but this one was a little more violent. Even so, ANS Dragon moved through and reappeared at their new destination without a scratch on her thick exterior. The entire crew fell silent as each watched the nearest display for their first view of the Orion Nebula. The sight of a new sun and planets was something to behold, but he knew full well he had a job to do.

  “What is our status?”

  Each of the crew reported back, and to his pleasant surprise there were no issues with either the ship or the crew. Two of the frigates appeared a short distance behind him and accelerated away as soon as they were clear of the exit rift. Though barely half the size of his ship, they were still powerful vessels, and each easily capable of securing a colony or planet against the threats of pirates or criminal gangs using modified civilian transports.

  “Sir, we’re ready to commence boarding operations on ANS Beagle,” said Captain Howell.

  The Commodore picked up the intercom unit from its position on the console in front of him and lifted it to his mouth. It was old technology, but the simplicity and privacy it offered were vital in combat situations.

  “Good, I will inform her Captain of your imminent arrival.”

  He then looked to his communications officer who was busy scanning their immediate area for anything useful.

  “Lieutenant,” he called. The young man looked back at his commander.

  “Sir?”

  “Get me through to Captain Raikes on the Beagle.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The Lieutenant looked back to his own console and moved his hands about as he made contact with the massive ship waiting a short distance away. Commodore Lewis watched the vessel and couldn’t fail to be impressed by the great bulk of her shape. She was part ship and part station, and with the rough finish, gantries and hundreds of crew that went with such a pioneering project. The image on the main screen changed to show the bustling interior of ANS Beagle. Captain Raikes approached the camera, but it must have been bumped during the crisis as it was tilted by almost thirty degrees.

  “Commodore Lewis, glad to see you,” he said with genuine pleasure
in his voice.

  The Commodore tapped a button that sent over details of Captain Howell.

  “This is the commander of my marine detachment. I have a reduced strength of three companies on board. As we speak, one of them is approaching your vessel and will board near the last sightings of your saboteurs. I suggest you withdraw your own marines to secure the key parts of the rift equipment.”

  “Sir?” he replied in confusion. “My marines have already secured the station and are performing a full sweep of the ship. They know this ship better than any other combat unit.”

  Commodore Lewis considered his comments for a moment. While he would much rather give his men free rein in the vessel, he was under no illusions as to the time limits available to his forces or the intricacies of the innards of ANS Beagle.

  “Very well, Captain. Inform your marines to hold their fire. My men will be there shortly. It is imperative that we get the Beagle into position, and with her rift generator functioning normally within the next fifteen minutes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” replied the Captain. The image faded to black. Before the Commodore could move, it quickly changed to the inside of one of the landing craft. The interior of the vessel was very different to that of ANS Beagle. It was a large, heavily armed craft that could land a fully equipped marine force directly into battle while under direct fire. Captain Howell looked into the camera, but it wasn’t obvious who it was due to the reflection on his visor.

  “Sir, we’re approaching the lower levels. Landing craft is attached and boarding skirt has linked. We’re ready to board her.”

  The Commodore didn’t hesitate in his response.

  “Good work, Captain. Permission granted, get back to me as soon as you make contact with the enemy. Oh, and try not to shoot anything valuable!”

  CHAPTER FIVE