by Dan Worth
‘There’s no time,’ Anna replied. ‘Even if we send one of the Nahabe ships, by the time they’ve reached the core systems this will all be over. We need to broadcast a message. We could encrypt it and relay it back through the Labyrinth to disguise the origins, but sending a hypercom transmission is the only way.’
‘There is a substantial risk involved with this course of action,’ said The Speaker. ‘Transmissions of any kind are liable to enable the enemy to triangulate our position. I am already unhappy at the level of traffic being directed at this base. If we start to transmit interstellar messages, the increased signal power will doubtless reveal our location.’
‘Can’t we just move the base?’ Isaacs replied. ‘The translation drive components arrived yesterday. How long till we can use it again?’
‘Around two of your days,’ The Speaker replied. ‘The drive is easily re-assembled, but takes a considerable amount of time to charge its capacitors due to the energy involved in each jump.’
‘We don’t have two days,’ said Anna. ‘We have to do this now or it will be too late for the loyalists to mount an effective defence. We have to take a chance, and if trouble arrives we have the Order of Dead Suns’ ships to act as defence. I say we recall our ships now and make the transmission, and if the worst comes to the worst we abandon this rock and try and make it back to loyal Commonwealth systems under our own steam.’
The Speaker appeared to sigh through its suit’s translation software. ‘Very well,’ it said wearily. ‘I will relay this information to Admiral Chen. I would also recommend that we start formulating an evacuation plan.’
Admiral Haines was feeling his age. How the hell had it come to this? The President: dead. The government - or what was left of it - in meltdown. Everyone was turning to him for help. He had just got off the hypercom link with the new Defence Minister, Lestrat - a man who last month had been a junior minister for Cabinet Affairs. He had sounded confused and terrified, and he wasn’t the only one. Everyone was on edge, including Haines.
Haines couldn’t tell them how to run a government. It wasn’t his place. He had no wish to head a military junta and besides, he didn’t know how to. What he did know was how to fight a war, but the problem he faced now was working out just who the enemy were and where they would eventually strike. Every day, more ships declared for the rebels. Cox’s rhetoric had reached fever pitch, painting a distorted picture of corruption and malign alien collaboration and blaming Haines for the death of the President. There had already been rioting on several worlds and there were countless accounts of non-humans being harassed or attacked across the Commonwealth. Old human habits and prejudices died hard and Cox was exploiting the age old fear of outsiders to the full.
A few ships had maintained their loyalty to Earth and had slipped back into the core systems. Many told similar stories to the accounts given by the Trebia’s crew, of attempted mutinies or being given orders that they felt that they could not carry out. Ships who failed to obey orders were being fired upon by their supposed comrades who now seemed to be behaving like different people according to those who had known them previously. There were rumours too of summary executions, and worse.
He looked out of the window of his ready room at the gathering of ships outside as they hung silently against the backdrop of the planet Emerald. He had moved the Abraham Lincoln and her group to the Beta Hydri system. Here he could react more easily to any move against the southern systems whilst Chen remained in the Solar System to command Loyalist forces there. He and Chen were already formulating emergency strategies for the final defence of Earth if it should come that. He had half a dozen carrier groups in Beta Hydri and a similar number, plus the Churchill, were currently on station in the Solar System. It wasn’t nearly enough for comfort, but more were on the way. Meanwhile, Cox’s armada in Spica continued to grow, whilst Haines’s scattered forces were taking an agonisingly long time to make their way back from the far reaches of the conquered K’Soth territories.
He reached into his desk drawer and produced a bottle of single malt and a glass tumbler. He damn well needed a drink, he reflected. He poured himself a measure of the golden brown whisky and after adding a little water, sat and sipped it reflectively. Sometimes, he longed for the quiet civilian life. He knew he should have packed it all in years ago and enjoyed the long years of retirement his gene therapy had granted him. But he knew that if he ever did that he’d spend the rest of his days wishing he was still out here at the sharp edge of things. Besides, he thought, who the hell was he going to share retirement with? It had been forty years since his wife had resigned herself to the fact that he was married more to the job than to her and had left him for another man. Out here was where he belonged and was where he was needed, now more than ever.
The ship comm. chimed suddenly.
‘Sir, we have a priority message from Admiral Chen,’ said the voice of the young Lieutenant manning the comms station.
‘Put her through, son,’ Haines replied.
Chen’s face appeared on his desk screen. Haines registered her worried expression as soon as he saw her.
‘Sir, we’ve received an encoded transmission from the Hidden Hand in the Spica system. Cox’s force has launched their attack. The Hidden Hand extrapolated their jump vector and the logical conclusion is that their headed for Achernar. We’re looking at six carrier groups, four Jupiter class, one Saturn class – the Nimitz – and a Charon class Marine Corp assault carrier plus escorts. The Hidden Hand counted one hundred and one ships in total, plus they believe that the Shaper vessel that was recovered from the surface of the moon Rhyolite in the Hadar system is now active and is accompanying the fleet.’
‘Any other Shaper vessels detected?’
‘No, however the Hidden Hand have advised that they were unable to detect the Shaper vessel’s warp signature and made the detection of the sole vessel by sight alone. Our deep range hyperspace sensors have however confirmed the trajectory of the fleet and our results concur that the most likely destination is Achernar. I’ve relayed a copy of all the data to the Lincoln.’
‘Well Admiral Chen, it looks like this is it,’ Haines replied. ‘I don’t have as many assets as I’d like but I’ll guess we’ll have to manage. I am taking my ships to the Achernar system to intercept Admiral Cox’s forces. In the event of my defeat, you must prepare to defend Earth at all costs until relief arrives.’
‘Good luck, sir. Give them hell,’ said Chen said and saluted.
‘Thank you Admiral. Haines out.’
Haines strode purposefully onto the busy bridge of the Abraham Lincoln and settled into his command chair. His bridge crew all knew instantly from his body language that something was afoot and awaited his orders. Haines ordered his comms officer to open a fleet wide broadcast.
‘This is Admiral Haines to all ships. We have a war to fight,’ said Haines, his gravelly voice relayed across the flotilla. ‘Even now, rebel forces under the traitor, Admiral Cox, are making their way to attack our worlds in the Achernar system. I intend to stop him and I know that I can rely on you all to help me achieve that goal. Do your duty, stand by your comrades and we’ll get through this.’ He ended the message then continued. ‘Helm, lay in a course for the Achernar system.’
Chapter 38
The delicate orrery hung in the centre of The Speaker’s chamber. A holographic projection, it showed the entirety of the Spica system, annotated with Nahabe script and icons. Amidst the many planets and the delicate lines denoting their orbits moved swarms of icons marking the known locations of ships within the system. Red blips indicated known hostile vessels, whilst blue blips indicated friendlies and all other ships were labelled in yellow. Currently, a scattering of blue blips flitted from one astronomical body to another across the system, whilst packs of reds attempted to follow their trail, like so many space-borne bloodhounds. The Hidden Hand’s ships were returning home.
‘I don’t like this,’ said Isaacs pensively. ‘It’
s only a matter of time before they work out where all these ships are ending up. How long until we can jump?’
‘Another hour,’ said The Speaker. ‘Any ships not returned by that time will be ordered to rendezvous with the gunspheres who will follow in our wake.’
‘I must admit, I feel a lot safer having those guys close by,’ Isaacs replied. ‘Sneaking around is fine, but you need someone who can come in handy if it comes to a fight. You should have seen the way the Order of Dead Suns fought onboard the Casilinum...’
‘Not an experience I’d like to repeat,’ said Anna, who had been holding onto his arm the entire time that they had been watching the orrery. ‘That was a trip to hell and back alright.’
‘One which was not in vain, fortunately,’ said The Speaker. ‘The samples that the Order and your good selves managed to gather have proved to be most interesting. Clearly, Shaper technology has moved on somewhat since we last encountered them. However the technical teams onboard the Blessed Nothingness believe that, by examining the samples you recovered, they may be close to isolating the method by which the Shapers communicate with one another and control their agents. They are unable to decipher the messages contained with the signals, but perhaps we could jam them. They have made their findings available to me.’
‘So this would stop them giving orders to their enslaved victims.’
‘Yes, as well as talking to one another and making use of their distributed processing abilities. If we could make use of this to disrupt their command and control functions it might give us a significant tactical advantage. We will of course communicate all findings to our contacts within the Commonwealth and Arkari.’
‘Well that’s certainly something.’ Anna replied. ‘Maybe it was worth it. If only we could free people who they’ve already implanted with those things.’
‘That may a long way off, indeed even impossible in some cases,’ The Speaker replied. ‘In the case of the agents, the host’s mind is eventually devoured entirely so that the parasite may learn everything about them, and thus become them. Those who have had control creatures attached may be... salvageable. My own people tried during the last war but we had little success. I will spare you the details of the operations to remove the parasitic machines from their skulls.’
Isaacs grimaced.
‘Ah another one of our ships returns,’ said The Speaker with a note of satisfaction. With that he called up a feed from the docking bay cameras. One of the corvettes, the Hit and Run, could be seen entering the bay. With the ship on the deck and the bay doors closed, a group of armed figures made their way into the bay to greet the crew. Maria Velasquez and her team of handpicked volunteers were scanning the crew of every returning ship for Shaper infection. Now that atmosphere had been restored within the bay it was possible for sounds to be picked up:
‘Peterson, you know the drill.’ That was Maria’s laid back drawl.
‘Okay... Velasquez, whatever you say.’ Peterson could be heard stifling a giggle.
‘Guys, come on. Stop fucking around, I don’t have time for this shit.’
‘Sure.’
‘Hoffman, scan Peterson. Whilst you’re at it, see if you can find a brain in there too.’
As they watched, the figure of Hoffman stepped forward towards Peterson’s flight-suited form. He reached out with the hand-held scanner towards the other man. Peterson exploded.
Maria saw Peterson torn apart by the blast, saw the ragged remains of Hoffman catapulted backwards, armless and headless, across the bay, saw the fountain of blood arc as if in slow motion towards her. She froze for a split second in shock, and then reached for her gun. Of the other four crew members of the Hit and Run, two were still on their feet. The other two, horribly mangled, were dragging themselves upright. One, a woman by the name of Fairfax, grinned at her horribly from a now fleshless face. The boarding ramp of the Hit and Run had dropped open and snarling mob rushed out of it
‘Holy, fucking shit!’ Maria swore and then opened fire.
Isaacs turned to The Speaker. ‘We’ve been compromised! We need to get people armed and down to the bay before Maria and her team are overrun. I’ve seen what just a few of those things can do.’
‘Those things are... were our friends,’ Anna murmured.
‘Yes of course,’ said The Speaker. ‘The Lord Protector and his honour guard are still aboard. I have alerted them. They will defend the docking bay!’
‘Good,’ Isaacs replied.
‘Wait,’ said The Speaker. ‘Something else is happening. I feel it... the Shapers are coming for us! Look!’
He switched the view on his holographic display. In the space around Port Royal, the unmistakeable forms of Shaper ships were appearing. Six of the long, spiny vessels had appeared as if from nowhere and were now converging on the base at speed.
‘We never even saw them coming,’ said Isaacs, the shock showing in his voice. ‘How the hell are we supposed to defend ourselves against these things?’
‘I am signalling the Order ships now. They are powering weapons and manoeuvring to engage the enemy,’ The Speaker reported.
‘They’re outnumbered three to one!’ Anna cried.
‘We must hold this base until we can jump!’ The Speaker replied. ‘We have no other options!’
As they watched, five of the Shaper vessels began to close on the Blessed Nothingness and the Uncaring Cosmos, apparently able to see through the Nahabe vessels’ cloaking shields. The sixth made straight for Port Royal at high speed.
‘I’m detecting massive energy spikes from the Shaper ships!’ cried The Speaker. They’re firing!’
‘What defences does this place have?’ said Isaacs to Anna. ‘We need something to fire back with!’
‘Nothing,’ Anna replied. ‘Nothing except whatever shielding the rock and ice can afford us.’
Five of the Shaper ship and the two Nahabe gunspheres were now locked in a deadly dance outside the asteroid. Violent, coruscating energies filled the space between the two giant globes and their sleek, shark-like attackers. The sixth Shaper vessel ploughed on towards Port Royal.
The Speaker’s image projection became distorted, in its place, a hideous, leering face with empty sockets loomed out of the darkness. It spoke. Its voice droned like the wings of a million insects.
‘Pitiful creatures. Why do you resist us? There can be no hiding place from us. We would know what secrets you have gathered. Give in to the inevitable. It is useless to resist the perfection of our intelligence.’
‘Shut it off!’ cried Anna. ‘That voice! It’s in my head!’
Isaacs could hear it too. It resonated inside his skull.
‘Surrender now and I promise you eternal bliss!’
‘Shut it off!’
‘Your friends are coming. You should welcome them... embrace them...’
The Speaker shut down the feed from outside. The voice died... but not entirely. Isaacs could hear it whispering still in the corners of his skull as it mocked, cajoled and threatened.
The Shaper vessel had reached ramming speed. Streaking towards Port Royal it angled itself towards the one weak point in the base’s structure: the docking bay doors. Behind it, the battle raged between its siblings and the Nahabe gunspheres. It was pleased. The two Nahabe ships were no real match for their greater numbers and superior technology. It angled its forward armour plates and shielding to minimise damage to its systems and then dove towards its target.
Maria crouched behind the ammo gurney and squeezed off another round at the figures skulking on the far side of the bay. The Order of Dead Suns’ arrival had pushed back the horde of enslaved humans. A dozen corpses maybe – it was hard to tell given their state – lay upon the deck plating between the parked ships. The rest had retreated into the shadows of the bay behind ships and maintenance units. It was if they were waiting for something.
It was then that the Shaper vessel hit the bay. Travelling at over five kilometres a second the tapered, shielded prow of th
e vessel collided with the doors of the docking bay like an armour piercing bullet, punching through the thick layers of metal as if they were no more substantial than a tin can.
The noise of the impact was deafening. Maria saw it happen. She saw the huge prow of the vessel punch through the doors, the shock shattering the inner plating and launching chunks of spinning metal across the bay. Ships parked near the doors were catapulted forward into one another. Vessels weighing hundreds of tonnes were thrown about like childrens’ toys and smashed. The prow of the ship kept on coming until the pointed tip embedded itself in the rear wall of the bay.
The man next to her, Wallis, died instantly, his head split open by a sliver of metal that blew brain matter out of the back of his skull. She herself was thrown backwards by shockwave and felt her lungs squeezed by the sudden overpressure as the atmosphere was compressed by the sudden introduction of so much mass into a confined space. She saw flying bodies, saw her comrades stumble and fall around her as the deck buckled and heaved or saw them die where they stood; pierced or flattened by flying debris. Even the Nahabe among the Order of Dead Suns seemed stunned by the shock. One floated drunkenly, its sarcophagus dented and scarred by a massive impact.
Then came the horrible whistling sound of atmospheric decompression. Alarms began to sound.
‘Everybody, out of the bay!’ Maria heard herself shout. ‘Back to the workshops, then seal the doors!’ She began to run. Her legs suddenly felt weak, jellied. She felt sick in her stomach. As she turned to look over her shoulder and beckon to those who hadn’t got the message she looked up at the looming prow of the alien ship and saw the plates of its armoured form begin to move, parting and reshaping themselves into exits, into boarding ramps. Within the ship, a horde of things now neither wholly man nor machine but which had once been men and women began to scramble down to the deck below.