Dark Transmissions

by Davila LeBlanc

  Fortunately, even though Lunient seemed to be outwardly scared pissless, this did not appear to be his first drop. If the fool could keep his mouth shut, take orders and not find a way to completely hump up the op, then perhaps she would find it in her heart to be softer on him the next time he inevitably required correction.

  From here on in there would be no further contact between them and the Jinxed Thirteenth. Braced outside the ship’s hull, watching them through their respective rifle scopes, both Lucky and Chance would be their guardian eyes. That was provided combat-­shy Private Chance could keep her hands steady and Lucky, the former Shock Legionnaire, had not been overindulging in his liquor-­laced vaposticks.

  In her days as a Thorn operator, Jafahan had found herself working side by side with the infamous Shock Legion on several off the book operations. She had, over the course of time, developed a begrudging respect for those who served in it. The successful outcome of more than a few of her black ops had been owed to the Shock Legion’s assistance and fierce Wolver courage.

  There had always been two choices for Wolvers who desired starflight and were not willing to break their oaths to the Living Green. The first choice was to secure passage with the Kohbran, navigating the cosmos in their City Trees, with no real control of just where the journey might lead. The second was to sign up with the Pax Humanis Shock Legion. This was the payment owed for starflight to any world or system they wanted, the payment the Pax Humanis demanded of the Wolvers before delivering on their end of the bargain.

  Loud and vocal had been the outraged Covenant politicians on Central Point denouncing the Shock Legion as both cruel and unethical. Pax Humanis prefects, however, were always offended by these objections. Military ser­vice, after all, only cost the Wolvers their time, not their savings. What was more, the Pax High Command also offered former Legionnaires a private’s pension after their term of ser­vice was up. Should they survive, of course.

  There was another secret, yet never openly spoken, name among the Pax brass for the Shock Legion. Grinder Meat.

  The Shock Legionnaires were the first ones sent into any battle the Pax Humanis got itself into. This didn’t make the Shock Legion either incompetent or useless. Far from it, Wolvers were an exceptionally hard breed to put down. They rarely backed away from any kind of fight. Many of the Pax Humanis’s former enemies, the operative word being “former,” had scoffed at the ill-­equipped “Wolver ruffian” army as a joke. All of them had quickly learned that the Shock Legion was not to either be underestimated or trifled with.

  Falling forward and picking up more speed, Commander Jafahan spun onto her back, facing her feet toward the station. This landing would be an incredibly rough one. Lunient struggled with his form as he tried to fall in next to her. Beatrix piloted her suit in rank, for lack of a better word, quite perfectly.

  Jafahan smiled when she observed this. True, Beatrix showed no true aptitude for command, but there was no denying she had plenty of potential as a soldier. Much like herself, Beatrix was driven to prove herself above the regular rank and file. There would be no better time to test out Beatrix’s potential than the present moment. Lunient’s eyes went wide as they approached, bracing for the incoming impact.

  They would only be allowed a single quick burst of suit propulsions. This would slow their approach considerably, but they would still be hitting the station’s hull at least five to ten clicks per hour. Their lifesuits would more than likely absorb the majority of the impact. That being said, it would be very far from soft or comfortable.

  “Relax those legs of yours and roll into the fall. I won’t be catching you if you bounce off. Clear?” Jafahan called out to Lunient as she relaxed her knees.

  Warning screens went off in her visor. There was movement on the station’s hull. Jafahan saw a dozen black spheres moving into position right on the intended drop zone. She could make out tiny purple bolts zooming toward them.

  “Incoming!” Beatrix triggered her morph shield and fired a heavy burst of her suit’s thrusters. She quickly zoomed ahead of them, placing herself between the barrage and the rest of the team. The salvo of deadly, suit-­shredding heated purple plasma bolts zoomed past or seared themselves into Beatrix’s dense morph-­shield plating.

  Lunient rolled behind Jafahan as a quick volley of five bright green energy beams flashed past them from the Jinxed Thirteenth. Each one of the blasts hit a black sphere. Some of the black dots sparked and went still, with holes the size of a Humanis head in them.

  Jafahan let out a relieved sigh when she saw this. Morwyn’s self-­proclaimed eye for talent had been proven right yet again. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that he had been right about laughably mousey Private Chance, after all.

  Five more of the drones suddenly went still as equal-­sized holes were punched into them. This brought a smirk to Jafahan’s lips. There was no position-­betraying telltale energy trail for a long-­range chemical bolt rifle. Lucky had always liked that about the older model weapons over the newer, slicker energy ones. When Jafahan had once asked him which weapon was his favorite, he had replied with a deadpan look in his eyes: “The one that kills my enemy.”

  Two more green energy beams were fired. The last two spheres were now immobile and the landing zone was cleared out. Jafahan braced herself for the imminent collision with the station’s hull, firing off one quick burst of her jet-­black stealth suit’s retro thrusters.

  Her magboots were automatically activated the moment they made contact with the hull and Jafahan rolled slightly forward onto her knees. Beatrix did the same while Lunient, who had gone completely rigid, clumsily collided with the station’s hull, tripped and fell forward on his face, cursing angrily and loudly in Confederated Kelthan as he did.

  Jafahan pulled him back up while unslinging her autolaser carbine in a well-­oiled motion. This had been her weapon of choice since her first outing as a Thorn operator. It was reliable, precise, adaptable and most importantly completely silent. In a pinch it could also be recharged off of any power source. The automatic laser rifle had been the Pax Humanis’s answer to the now classic and versatile Adoran-­built omnibarrel carbine.

  Lunient groaned as he cranked his bolt rifle and slapped a round into its chamber, then took a moment to survey their surroundings. “Well, it was good having the element of surprise for a grand total of never.”

  “Your concern and encouragement is noted, Private.” Jafahan could make out the station’s thruster not twelve steps away from them. They were standing on the edge of its arch-­like shadow. Beatrix let out a long and impressed whistle when she looked it over.

  “Our ancestors made it here, and before us at that! They were truly strong. Thegran strong.”

  Jafahan rolled her eye. Thegrans always held anything related to the past or Ancient Humanity in high esteem as something of great importance. For Jafahan in any case, at best the station was a pile of junk afloat in space. It was not some sort of sacred temple or testament to Ancient Humanity’s strength.

  “My balls are here at present, not the ancestors’.” Lunient snorted as he looked over to the shadows with his black night-­eyes. “They are dust and can stay that way for all I—­”

  Lunient’s words trailed off as he just now spotted something and the blood drained from his already incredibly pale face. On cue, various motion sensors equipped in Jafahan’s stealth suit went off. Beatrix had no time to unsling her minigun, pulling out her war hammer instead.

  Two dozen movement dots appeared on Jafahan’s heads-­up display. They were closing in from the shadows and doing so quickly. “I have got no intention of wasting my life on this encounter,” Jafahan snarled, gripping the handle of her laser carbine tightly and drawing a bead on the closest target.

  As if Jafahan’s thoughts had been read, blasts of green energy lit up the shadows briefly. Jafahan caught a glimpse of at least three dozen obsidian black sphere
s rolling toward them. The salvo of energy blasts hit three drones and they exploded.

  In response, the spheres turned to face the Jinxed Thirteenth all as one. Their hands mechanized some sort of pistol-­shaped tool from within their metallic fingers and they fired a barrage of blue plasma bolts. Jafahan followed the telltale purple streaks of heated plasma back toward the Jinxed Thirteenth, each one of them hitting the ship.

  Jafahan could only hope that Lucky and Chance had had the presence of mind to either find cover or change firing positions. Each of those plasma bolts could sear and rend through most metals and flesh. But it would take only a tiny hole in any of their suits to spell the end for either of them.

  The drones let loose with another barrage of bolts at the ship. Jafahan froze. They were outnumbered and no longer had either the element of surprise or stealth. She could open fire, but there was no way they would survive combat with so many mechanized foes at close range.

  “Ma’am!” Beatrix shouted as she shook Jafahan’s shoulder, bringing her back to the real world.

  “I am not dying here today.” Jafahan patted one of the blast charges of neo-­sem explosives at her side. She had brought five such satchels with them, knowing only two would really be needed.

  Plan for the worst, hope for the best.

  When she saw the satchels, Beatrix unfurled her morph shield and stepped forward. “Everyone behind me!” she bellowed.

  Jafahan pulled out the timer charge from one of her satchels and hurled it with all her might at the gathering drones. Lunient Tor did not have to be told twice as he took cover behind Beatrix with Jafahan close behind him.

  Beatrix let out a deep “woot” as the satchel was detonated. All three of them felt the explosion’s vibration along the hull. A deadly hail of flaming shrapnel whizzed past them. The only thing keeping the team safe and alive was Private Beatrix bracing herself behind her morph shield. Beatrix let out a loud challenging roar as she stood her ground against the blast and the shock wave that followed it.

  Jafahan counted in her head to ten before chancing a peek past the morph shield’s edge. She stepped away from Beatrix’s massive encased form and observed the damage. Jafahan let out a whistle at the scene of destruction that was presented to her. As she had predicted, the neo-­sem had done its job and then some.

  The pack of drones had been completely destroyed by the blast and where they had once stood there were now only various floating and still-­sparking piles of debris. Much of the shrapnel had lodged itself in the station’s thruster as well. The blast had not been enough to permanently damage it, but a good strong start nonetheless.

  Lunient and Beatrix both let out an excited shout as they surveyed the scene. “That was a good strong opening punch, ma’am.” Beatrix nodded proudly to Jafahan.

  “We can suckle each other’s nether regions in celebration when we get back on the ship.” Jafahan started moving toward the thruster at a quick jog.

  The Infinite alone knew how much time they had before this station sent more of these drones to stop them. While she had no doubt that they would be able to survive a battle or two, the clock was still ticking, and they were no closer to removing their foe’s claws.

  CHAPTER 17

  CHORD

  In the name of the Great Peace are these Truths transcribed. The traversing of space is a dangerous endeavor in its own right. All weapons that would threaten the integrity and survivability of a ship’s hull will be forbidden. This Truth shall be so from Covenant’s Start to Covenant’s End.

  —­The Covenant’s Third Truth, 1st of SSM–01 01 A1E

  10th of SSM–10 1445 A2E

  “ . . . eight, seven, six—­”

  The voice of the machine Intelligence—­designation: OMEX—­continued its countdown to electrocution in her friendly monotone. Chord’s subroutines were desperately trying to access the station’s datasphere in the hope that perhaps some sort of override command could be found. Regrettably for them, there was no such good fortune.

  Meanwhile, Morrigan looked to Phaël and gave her a brief nod. He pointed his carbine up the elevator shaft. Morrigan then quickly thumbed a dial on the handle of his weapon and the barrel widened to the size of a fist. With his other free hand Morrigan quickly slapped in a like-­sized blue-­gray-­tipped obsidian-­colored round.

  “ . . . five, four, three—­”

  “Get ready to jump!” Phaël shouted.

  “You’ve got this, old man.” Morrigan let out a controlled breath and squeezed the trigger, firing a single shot up the shaft. Chord’s optical display was able to trace the round’s trajectory and recorded its impact with the hull.

  There was a heavy and muted explosion. Morrigan raised up his shield as a shock wave of debris rippled down the shaft toward them. The action was unnecessary, as the wave of shrapnel was suddenly and violently sucked out. Chord could now make out a huge star-­shaped gaping hole where the ceiling twenty stories up had been just seconds before.

  They were all pulled roughly upward by the sudden strength of the vacuum. Chord spun around, struggling in vain to find purchase in order to stop the out of control fall. Sensors indicated that they had traveled over half of the twenty vertical floors when all of a sudden a gauntleted fist caught ahold of Chord’s forearm. “Got you, Machina!”

  Chord looked down and was gazing into Morrigan’s faceless black helmet. “You have this unit’s gratitude, Private Brent.”

  “Don’t go thinking this makes us even.” Morrigan had driven his long vibro-­sword into the steel wall next to them. Chord could make out Arturo and Phaël, floating and tethered together behind them.

  Morrigan struggled to pull Chord closer to him, letting out a strained grunt as he did. Once the two were close enough, Chord’s toes, possessing the same amount of manual dexterity as its lost fingers, grasped on to Morrigan’s spool of diamond-­wire rope and connected the two together.

  The pressure equalized itself, and as abruptly as the vacuum had started to pull against them it stopped. The last of the elevator shaft’s breathable atmosphere had been sucked out. For a moment, all four of them floated together in silence.

  It was Arturo who broke it. “Private Brent! What in the Infinite fuck was that?!”

  “That, my dear Sureblade, was a proton-­accelerated osmium-­tipped round. Purchased at the not so small tune of fifty thousand u-­bits from a Darlkhin merchant by yours truly.” Morrigan’s tone was slightly upset.

  “We’re alive, Old Pa. You can live to spend more bits,” Phaël called out, her voice teasing, yet still very weak.

  “That will depend on whether or not he goes back to his cell on Rust.” Arturo gave Morrigan a hard glare. “Do you mean to tell me you had that . . . thing on you when you boarded the Jinxed?”

  “You should just be happy you’re alive.”

  Arturo opened his mouth to counter Morrigan’s argument, then stopped. Starflight had always been the dangerous endeavor. Because of this, when the Covenant had been signed after the Advent War, it had been agreed that weapons with the capacity to pierce or damage a ship’s hull would be forbidden.

  The opposite had been true in the lost days of Ancient Humanity.

  “Mark my words and mark them well! Any more such surprises from you, Adoran—­” Arturo jabbed his finger forward menacingly “—­and our next exchange will be far less pleasant.” Arturo paused, taking a calming breath before begrudgingly adding, “A word of gratitude is given, Private Brent.”

  “And it is accepted, Sureblade.” Morrigan offered a friendly thumbs-­up.

  Arturo looked up toward the hole at the end of their tunnel. “Ten more floors and we’ve found our survivors, correct, Machina Chord?”

  “Affirmative, Sergeant Kain,” Chord replied.

  “Plenty of time for rest and relaxation once we’re back on the Jinxed, then.” Arturo fired off his
suit’s thrusters and floated forward, dragging Phaël with him. Chord did the same, pulling Morrigan along.

  The team remained silent but alert with Chord’s sensors scanning in every direction. There was movement along the outside of the shaft. No doubt OMEX was following them through the station’s numerous sensors.

  “We are being tracked and followed,” Chord informed them all, breaking the silence.

  “I know.” Phaël visibly suppressed a shiver.

  Arturo Kain’s hands were hovering above the hilts of his zirconium blades. His eyes locked toward the hole at the end of the elevator shaft. It was easily large enough that they all could have been sucked out into space without even bumping into one another. Red lights were silently flashing and Chord picked up multiple automated distress alerts being projected along the station’s datasphere.

  Chord counted five more floors remaining as they continued downward and motioned to a pair of metal doors. Two living biological forms were highlighted in Chord’s field of vision. The survivors were located behind them, which made getting past those doors the team’s next destination.

  “What exactly were you hoping to find in these halls, Chord?” Morrigan did not turn to face Chord as he was watching their flank and being pulled forward. The red lights of the elevator shaft bounced off of his dark-­brown-­and-­black body armor. Morrigan’s morph shield was shaped now into a perfect octagon, offering them both its protection. His carbine’s barrel was rested on the shield for stability.

  Chord did not know exactly how to respond to the question, for it itself did not truthfully know the answer. Unlike Humanis, Machina did not fear the works of Ancient Humanity, or anything for that matter. There was no superstition to be had here.