Bane of Worlds (Survival Wars Book 2)

by Anthony James

  Duggan was taken to a room, bare of decoration. The walls were ten metres apart and the ceiling five metres up. There was nothing on the floor and a single door led away opposite to the one he’d entered.

  “Wait here,” said a voice. With that, the alien soldiers passed through the far door, leaving Duggan alone. There was nothing to sit on and nothing to look at. He knew the Ghasts used seats and he was fairly sure they were civilised enough to have other furniture. It could have been a calculated insult to leave him here, he thought. For some reason it didn’t seem likely – it would be far too subtle.

  The Ghasts had left both doors open, since they evidently didn’t think Duggan was a threat, nor that he’d try and escape. He looked through the exit door – there was another corridor beyond, which went to the left and right. To Duggan’s surprise, he saw a Ghast walking towards him. This one was dressed in a stiff-looking grey cloth uniform. It wore no helmet and carried no weapons. It entered the room, watching Duggan as it did so.

  The figure walked to the centre of the room and stopped, barely ten feet away. Up close, Duggan saw the age-lines across its broad forehead and at the corners of its eyes. It had hair, thick, dark and almost humanlike. The grey eyes never left him and Duggan sensed the creature was waiting for him to do something. There was intelligence – fierce and honed, backed up by the powerful, heavy-boned frame common to all of this species. It made the average Ghast stronger than almost any man or woman.

  Duggan’s helmet readout informed him the air here was good enough for him to breathe. He activated the external speaker on the helmet and broke the seal around his neck. He lifted the helmet over his head and placed it on the floor next to him, feeling cold air rush across his skin. He was convinced the alien before him was in a position of seniority and there would never be any trust without eye contact. Duggan remained quiet for a few seconds and he could sense the Ghast evaluating him.

  “I am John Duggan, captain of the Space Corps vessel ESS Crimson,” he said.

  The helmet speaker hummed and then spat out a series of rasping syllables. The Ghast narrowed its eyes and responded. Duggan’s untrained ear immediately picked out differences in tone between the helmet’s interpretation and the Ghast’s speech. He hoped it wouldn’t be too much of an impediment.

  “I am Nil-Far. I command this Oblivion.” There was a pause before the word ‘Oblivion’ and Duggan guessed the Ghasts used a word or phrase which wouldn’t translate directly. The language modules weren’t complete and probably weren’t able to catch the subtleties of vocabulary as well as tone. The helmet produced more words, these ones not a part of the conversation.

  “By the pattern of this specimen’s voice, there is a ninety-five percent chance it is male.”

  Had Duggan been a trained negotiator, he would have littered his words with niceties and flowery phrases. He had no time for pleasantries. “Both our fleets have been destroyed by a third species. We have named them Dreamers. Humans and Ghasts alike utilise technology scavenged from an earlier Dreamer incursion through the wormhole.”

  “Their technology is powerful,” said the Ghast. “You used it to destroy Lioxi.”

  There was no way to tell if there was accusation in the words, or a simple statement of fact. Duggan didn’t hide behind excuses. “We used it on your planet to bring about an end to the war. The Confederation could not permit you to destroy more of our planets.”

  “It is understandable,” said Nil-Far. When he spoke, he revealed straight, white teeth in perfect proportion to his face, though there was no hint of a smile. “We came to this sector to end the hostilities.”

  “Had you reached a settlement before the Dreamers arrived?” asked Duggan.

  “There was progress.” Nil-Far lowered his heavy brows, giving the impression he was thinking. “We will go elsewhere to speak, instead of standing here like [word not recognized].”

  Duggan was relieved. It didn’t seem likely they could accomplish anything worthwhile in this room. Nil-Far left the room without a backward glance. Duggan grabbed his helmet and walked quickly after. He fell into step, determined not to show potential weakness by following behind. They climbed a set of steps to a higher level and went through a series of doors. Here there were a number of much larger rooms, some open and some only glimpsed through clear panes in their doors. There were many Ghasts and Duggan wondered at the numbers onboard – from what he saw, they carried more personnel on this battleship than anything in the Space Corps fleet. Those he saw were clearly not soldiers. They sat in threes at consoles set against the walls. Many carried metal cylinders or cubes, from which wires and cables dangled. There were hatches in the walls and what he imagined to be maintenance tunnels. The Ghasts were everywhere and they were all busy with something. Nil-Far walked on without a word. Here and there, the helmet picked up a snippet from nearby Ghasts, and translated it into speech Duggan could understand. He found himself impressed – everything he overheard was about how to get the Oblivion moving again, rather than time-wasting or joking. Do they even have jokes? he wondered idly.

  Nil-Far stopped outside a door in a much quieter area of the vessel. He raised a broad hand and placed it palm-out on a panel. The door slid open, to reveal another ten-metre square room of the sort Duggan had seen many of. Unlike the other rooms, this one had what was unmistakeably a metal desk, with thick legs and four chairs fixed to the floor on one side, and a single chair on the other. There were screens in the walls, showing a constantly-changing list of characters and symbols. There was something about it which reinforced a feeling he’d had before – the Ghasts had a mish-mash of old and new. It was like they’d advanced too far and too fast and they struggled to control the technology they’d built. That was why they had so many maintenance crew onboard.

  Nil-Far took the single seat. The Ghast didn’t offer, so Duggan took one of the four seats opposite. It was as flat and cold as the walls.

  “Our Admiral was killed,” said Nil-Far. “After his death, I could see my primary objective was to protect my ship.” It was as close to conversation as anything the Ghast had spoken so far.

  “There is a Cadaveron elsewhere on this planet,” said Duggan.

  “We were not the only ones to escape. Why are you here, John Duggan?” Still there was nothing readable in the face of the creature.

  “I have come to finish what was started,” Duggan replied.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Are you in a position to speak for your Confederation?” asked Nil-Far.

  “No, I am not,” said Duggan.

  “We do not need to talk if you have nothing.”

  “I bring an opportunity to carry the truth of what happened here to the Confederation home planets. The Dreamers jammed our communications, preventing news from reaching my superiors. We have Planet Breakers mounted on eight new prototype warships and we have the coordinates of your remaining populated worlds.” He stopped to allow the translation to catch up. “It is not in your interest for a misunderstanding to exist. As it stands, nobody in the Confederation knows with absolute certainty that this is not a result of Ghast treachery.”

  Nil-Far’s face twisted in an emotion that took no empathy to identify. He clenched a fist and banged it hard upon the metal table top. “There is no Ghast treachery! We do not break our word when it is given! We fight and we bring death to our enemies, but an oath is [words not recognized]!”

  Duggan didn’t flinch at the Ghast’s anger. He didn’t allow his expression to change at all. “There needs to be more than talk of oaths. The Confederation wishes to have peace. They would prefer to have peace without further deaths. If they can’t have peace on those terms, they will destroy each of your remaining worlds in turn, until peace comes through your extinction.”

  “Why not destroy us anyway?” asked Nil-Far.

  “Is that what the Ghasts intended for the Confederation?” asked Duggan.

  “We fight to win,” Nil-Far replied. “This is not a war my
species wanted.”

  This time it was far harder for Duggan to keep his expression neutral. Nil-Far’s words contradicted everything he knew about the war. Each side has its own truths, he thought. “You will settle with the Confederation?”

  “We will settle.”

  “You have told me your species is honourable and I accept what you have said. We are not the people to set anything in stone, but we can provide an example to show our hostilities are no longer necessary. I wish to escape this planet and return to the Confederation with details of the Dreamer assault on our fleet. I am sure you wish to return to your own worlds.”

  Nil-Far didn’t answer at once. His eyes became distant as he considered what Duggan had said. The Ghast looked different to a human, yet in many ways there were striking similarities. “These Dreamers destroyed four of our most recent warships in seconds,” said Nil-Far. “They warped amongst us and their beam weapons ripped us to pieces. We were unable to communicate and tried to withdraw. Our engines shut down in moments, leaving us stranded here.”

  “We experienced the same,” said Duggan. “Do you know if any vessels from the human or Ghast fleet escaped? Were there any successful strikes on the Dreamer craft?”

  “I think my warship was among a handful given the time to fire upon them. Our standard missiles refused to target, even though the enemy was so large. We launched six [technology not recognized] from our forward tubes. They were destroyed prior to impact. Our lightspeed drive took us away before we could try again.”

  “What destroyed them?” asked Duggan, assuming Nil-Far referred to his use of Shatterer missiles.

  “We have not been able to confirm with certainty. The warheads detonated a short distance from the target.”

  “An energy shield?” asked Duggan. The Confederation had been experimenting with this technology. The labs had got it working in principle, except the energy draw was so huge, the shields would knock out the engines of a warship in a split second’s use.

  “If I understand your words correctly, an energy shield is exactly what we believe stopped our weapons.”

  The more he heard, the greater a feeling of dread seeped into Duggan’s bones. The Dreamers were advanced and they were hostile. If they’d come here for war, which was an inescapable conclusion, both Ghasts and humanity were in deep trouble. There wasn’t time to pursue each detail fully, so Duggan moved on.

  “Do you know how they jammed your communications?”

  “We are working on it,” said Nil-Far. It wasn’t clear if he was withholding something, or if he didn’t have more to say.

  “How long until you can fly?” asked Duggan. “Our engine re-routing could take days or weeks.”

  Nil-Far narrowed his eyes, another humanlike expression. “We have damage to our AI,” he conceded. “We passed many of my crew on the way here. You will have noticed we are reduced to doing some repairs by hand.”

  There was much Duggan wished to ask and much he wished to learn. The time wasn’t now and he wanted to deal with the most pressing issue for both sides. “We detected a fission signature when we entered orbit,” said Duggan. The helmet struggled to translate.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “A ship emerged from lightspeed somewhere above this planet. We believe it to be a Dreamer vessel, though not the large one which destroyed our fleets. We suspect this one to be a smaller fighter. We think it wishes to find and destroy us.”

  “I do not wish my vessel to be destroyed.”

  Nil-Far appeared to accept much of what Duggan said without questioning it, as if the Ghasts hadn’t learned to lie or it simply wasn’t part of how they communicated.

  “If it’s looking, it will find us. This will happen before either of our vessels can escape.”

  “The enemy craft will remain until it has finished what the larger ship started,” said Nil-Far. There was certainty, clear in the translation.

  “I agree,” said Duggan. “It may succeed against us whether or not our engines are functioning.”

  “Our weapons may have the power to deplete its energy shields,” said Nil-Far, giving away his knowledge of the technology.

  “The ESS Crimson destroyed one of the first Dreamer craft to come through the wormhole,” said Duggan. “The logs of the combat show the enemy warship possessed a technology which prevented missiles from targeting it.”

  “That is what we discovered,” said Nil-Far. “I can think of ways around the problem, though I will be unable to put them into action without a great deal of time.”

  “Your Shatterers can target.”

  “They can. We have six batteries as I’m sure you are aware. What you might not know is that only four of these are capable of firing upwards. The other two fire downwards.”

  “Four should be sufficient, assuming it has no energy shield.”

  Nil-Far gave a single nod of his head. “The Shatterers are the pinnacle of our weapons technology.”

  Duggan stood. “I need to get back to my ship and speak to my crew. There may be a way for us to defeat this common enemy. I do not wish our peace to fail.”

  Nil-Far’s grey eyes glittered dangerously in the blue light and Duggan could see the Ghast had reached his status because he was skilful and competent. “We might soon find our ships side-by-side against a new foe, John Duggan.”

  “We might,” said Duggan. After everything which had gone before, it felt peculiar to be talking so openly to a representative of the species he’d fought so long. He put the thoughts to one side. “I will need to communicate with you again. It is not suitable for me to put on this space suit and cross between our vessels.”

  “I will send my soldiers to escort you from the ship. I will have one of them wait outside until this is done. You can pair one of your helmets to his battle armour and use it as a relay to carry information. I assume your internal communications are working?”

  “They are,” said Duggan. “Very well, I will do as you suggest.”

  “My troops are already outside. Go,” said Nil-Far.

  Duggan climbed to his feet and picked up the helmet. He caught sight of his face, reflected in the visor. The sternness of his features shocked him and he put the helmet on again while he walked towards the door. It opened and, as Nil-Far had said, there were six Ghasts in the corridor outside, still in their mech suits and still with their repeaters. Duggan walked past them, taking the lead. He’d memorised the route they’d taken to reach Nil-Far’s room. The soldiers fell in behind and made no attempt to stop him or ask him to slow down.

  Standing in the airlock gave Duggan a few moments to play over the recent events in his mind. There was too much to think about and no hope of settling anything with himself. At last, the boarding ramp swung away and crashed against the ground beneath the Oblivion. Duggan walked down without a backwards glance. He took a measured pace to the Crimson. Some of the cracks in the ground had widened or extended and he hadn’t been gone long. The Oblivion was sinking.

  The Crimson felt like a welcome return to home when he boarded it. He stayed in his suit and fetched another suit helmet from one of the lockers. He interfaced with it and transferred the language modules across. When it was set up, Duggan walked down the boarding ramp again and placed the second helmet on the ground. He looked towards the Ghast ship and, as promised, there was a lone figure waiting, the visor of its mech suit pointed in his direction. Duggan initiated the connection between the suit helmet and the mech suit.

  “This is Duggan. Acknowledge.”

  A voice responded, routing from the bridge on the Oblivion, through the mech suit, on to the second helmet and then into Duggan’s earpiece.

  “Acknowledged.” The suit’s translation only had one voice and there was no way to tell if it was Nil-Far or another Ghast who responded. Ultimately, it wasn’t important, as long as the message got to the right person.

  Duggan re-entered the Crimson. Once he’d passed the airlock, he removed his own helmet and returned to th
e bridge with it clutched in one hand. After the chill of the Oblivion, the heat of his own ship was a relief.

  Chapter Thirty

  “We have to come up with a plan, or that Dreamer warship is going to blow us and the Ghasts to pieces,” said Duggan. “I need ideas and I need them now!”

  “We’re fighting against the unknown, sir,” said Breeze.

  “No we’re not, Lieutenant. We’re fighting against some unknowns. We have information from the Crimson’s previous encounter and we have information from the Ghast Captain. That’s sufficient to make something work.”

  “We know we can’t target the enemy with our Lambdas,” said McGlashan. “We can disable the guidance systems and launch them in a straight line in the hope one of them might get a strike.”

  “Except the Ghasts believe the Dreamers have an energy shield,” said Breeze. “We have to assume one or two lucky strikes won’t disable it, else why bother having one in the first place?”

  “What can we learn from the Crimson’s first encounter?” mused Duggan.

  “It fired hundreds of missiles and used the disruptors,” said Chainer.

  “It fired the disruptors many times,” said McGlashan. “Why would it need to keep using them? A disabled ship is a sitting duck, even for an unguided missile.”

  “Some of the bigger Ghast warships shrug off the disruptor effects in less than a minute,” said Duggan. “And the Crimson itself is hardly affected, except for a spike on the core. It’s certain the Dreamer ships aren’t going to be disabled.”

  “Why fire them, in that case?” asked McGlashan. “Could the disruptors knock out an energy shield? That would allow a missile to impact with the target.”