Fractured Horizons (Savage Stars Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “And the next priority was to prevent the destruction of more of our warships,” added Eastwood. “I guess we didn’t do so badly.”

  “I didn’t want a half-victory, Lieutenant.”

  “It’s what we got, sir.”

  Recker couldn’t bring himself to feel happiness. This mission had started with high hopes of recovering some usable tech for the HPA and now that tech was cratered on a fringe planet, along with hundreds of personnel who were still trapped in their spaceships.

  And when it came down to it, Recker had no way of confirming if the alien cube retained its destructive capabilities, or its ability to transmit.

  “Too many unknowns,” he said bitterly. He stared at the console in front of him and imagined the core override to be a disease coursing through the warship. The thought made him furious.

  In the end, Recker had only a single option available. With no way to get home, he had to try and salvage something from the mission. He laid his hands onto the control bars again.

  “Anyone want to go sightseeing?” he asked.

  The crew didn’t answer, already resigned to what was coming to them. Less sure than ever what his future held, Recker aimed the ship towards the dust storm and took them lower.

  Chapter Nine

  The highest reaches of the dust cloud extended several hundred kilometres over the surface and Recker dropped the warship steadily through the swirling particles. Luckily, the sensors were set to auto-adjust and they pierced a few thousand metres into the gloom with reasonable clarity, and a few additional kilometres at much-reduced precision. In addition, the altimeter was functioning along with the rest of the Expectation’s positional hardware. The core override had removed direct control, but the output of many important functions was still visible.

  “Is there a plan, sir?” yelled Eastwood over the engines.

  Recker didn’t answer at once. He’d had enough of shouting and motioned for Aston to grab some suit helmets from the wall locker. Moments later, in the comparative silence of the helmet, he was left wondering why he hadn’t done this sooner. Using the suit comms, the conversation proceeded without effort.

  “There’s no plan, Lieutenant,” said Recker when every member of his crew was in the channel. “We’re going to take a look and then decide.”

  Recker’s tension hadn’t lessened and it was an effort to take a measured approach. The destroyer sank ever lower into the dust and, although the warship was battered by the external conditions, the winds weren’t nearly strong enough to be felt on the bridge of a billion-ton construction of alloy and ternium.

  Whatever damage had been caused by the collision with the desolator it hadn’t gone away and Recker fought against the warship’s desire to enter a spin. The cause could be one of a dozen things, but the core override prevented the damage report from appearing and all he could do was compensate.

  At an altitude of ten kilometres, Recker brought the spaceship to a halt. The lack of control over the sensors was frustrating, meaning he was required to adjust the Expectation’s orientation in order to direct the arrays in the direction he wanted. Murky shapes dotted the underside feeds and he spent a moment studying them.

  “I believe this is the satellite’s crater, and this might be the satellite,” he said, indicating one of the larger shadows. “These adjoining craters were formed by our warships.”

  “Let’s just get down there, sir,” said Eastwood.

  “This is as good a place as any to check out the lay of the land.”

  Even so, Recker took the controls again and continued the descent. The dust was thicker here and the winds stronger, with the result that the sensors struggled more than they had at a greater altitude. One moment, the shapes below were almost identifiable, the next they were lost in the cloaking dust.

  “We’re in the main crater,” said Recker at last.

  A long, broad shape became momentarily clear, lying in a huge crater adjoining the even larger one made by the cube. Much of the surrounding area glowed red with heat generated by the impacts.

  “That’s the Trojan,” said Recker. “If we deploy the incision vehicle, is there any way the comms signal from a suit would penetrate the hull?”

  “Definitely not, sir,” said Burner. “Usually the external sensors would accept the transmission and route it to the intended recipient, but the core override has locked down traffic in both directions.”

  Recker piloted close enough to see that the battleship had ended up on its side. Its plating was extensively crushed - ruptured in places - and many of its landing legs were bent or snapped off. The starboard flank had taken the brunt of the impact and Recker had no doubt there’d be extensive heat damage. All around, the stone had a peculiar sheen, like it had fused with the airborne dust to form a rough glass.

  “If the life support was active, the crew were in their suits, and Admiral Fraser knew what orders to give and when, most of the personnel should be alive,” said Recker, acutely aware that any deaths were a direct result of his actions.

  “The Trojan is carrying four heavy shuttles with missile launchers and chain guns,” said Aston. “I’m not saying they should have attempted an attack on the cube while up in orbit, but I’d expect them to be deployed after impact – assuming they weren’t too badly damaged.”

  “I notice you carefully avoided saying anything that might sound like criticism of Admiral Fraser, Commander,” said Burner cheerfully.

  “We’re on the same side, Lieutenant. Even if, by all accounts, the man is an ass.”

  “This isn’t the time,” Recker said in warning.

  “Those shuttles could have launched before we got here,” said Eastwood. “We’d only spot them if we got lucky.”

  The launch of the shuttles would leave no visible indication on the battleship’s exterior, so Recker didn’t spend any time hunting for signs they’d been deployed. A few kilometres to the east, he made out what appeared to be the place where the Trojan’s impact crater merged with the one made by the Titan. The heavy lifter wasn’t solid like a warship and doubtless the spaceship would be a crumpled mess.

  Recker had always found particular tragedy in the ruins of huge constructions like these and he was assailed by the enormity of what he’d done. When he’d witnessed the helpless destruction of the Barbarian and Claymore, he’d felt driven into immediate action. Now that he was witness to the result of that action, Recker found it hard to cope. Questions jumped into his mind, asking if he’d done the right thing, or if another way had existed – a way which might have freed the trapped spaceships and ensured the survival of all personnel, not just the lucky ones.

  Aston was perceptive enough to detect Recker’s agitation from the set of his shoulders. “You can’t let it drag you down, sir. Not now.”

  “This is too much to let go.”

  “That’s for you to handle, sir. We were all involved and none of us thought of a better way. You’re in command, but that doesn’t absolve the rest of us.”

  The muscles in Recker’s jaw tightened. “You’re right, Commander. We can’t allow events to rule us –if we have a debt, only the living can accept payment.”

  Recker felt the doubts and the guilt fade – they didn’t disappear completely, rather they slid away into a recess of his mind. It was a burden for any man to carry and he promised that one day he’d deal with the accumulated darkness – a confrontation which would either break him or see him emerge stronger.

  “The Trojan wasn’t the only warship carrying shuttles,” he said. “The cruisers and the Titan had their own.”

  “Let’s not forget those desolators, sir,” said Eastwood. “I can’t imagine the Daklan waiting timidly for an invitation to come out and play.”

  “And again, there’s no logical reason the Daklan would have attempted a shuttle attack on the cube while up in space,” said Aston. “None of our transports have enough firepower to even scratch that thing.”

  “Which means we could have D
aklan shuttles in the vicinity,” said Recker. “They’re too small to hurt the Expectation.”

  “And they’re too slow to prevent us ramming them out of the sky,” said Aston. “The difficulty will be spotting the bastards first.”

  “We’ve got to reach the cube,” said Recker suddenly. “If the Daklan manage to launch their shuttles, they’ll attempt an incursion.”

  “With what aim, sir?” asked Eastwood.

  Recker guessed the answer. “If the satellite fired the core override, maybe it contains the way to recall it from our onboard systems.”

  The more he thought about it, the more convinced Recker became that he’d stumbled upon a possible way to escape this mountain of crap. Without further discussion, he banked the Expectation towards the place where the cube had impacted.

  Rough estimates suggested the cube’s mass was likely five to eight times greater than that of the Trojan. Consequently, it sat in the bottom of a far larger impact crater, with sloping sides peculiarly free of debris, as if the collision had thrown anything loose far away.

  Recker piloted the destroyer lower, aware from his observation of the initial impact that the cube was about twelve kilometres below the original surface level. A dark shape loomed ahead, shrouded in thicker dust than they’d encountered so far and the heat glow from the cube’s impact had faded until it was little more than the faintest tinge of red on the metal and nearby rock. The glassy sheen suggested that the temperature had originally been much greater.

  “There it is,” said Burner. “I hope it’s smashed to pieces.”

  The bottom of the crater was almost flat in comparison to the steeper sides higher up, and here they found the alien satellite. It had landed on one face, with no sign that it had rolled afterwards. As a result, many of the spiked antennae had survived, though they weren’t entirely intact. Most were bent or snapped partway up. Others lay scattered upon the ground.

  The main structure of the cube was extensively damaged, and every visible face was bowed outwards as a result of the collision. Closer to the ground, the lower section of the satellite was crushed, and pieces – some of which must have weighed in excess of a billion tons - had splintered off and fallen nearby, all lumps and irregular edges.

  “That’s what happens if you mess with the HPA,” said Eastwood.

  “No more than it deserved,” said Burner.

  “Except we don’t know why it was built in the first place, Lieutenant,” said Aston. “Maybe it was constructed by the good guys in the fight against a bunch of murdering bastards – their equivalent of the Daklan.”

  “That would mean the species who built the Vengeance were the bad guys, Commander,” Burner replied. “Personally, I don’t care too much, as long as we find something that helps us beat our own enemies.”

  “Lieutenant Burner, speak to Sergeant Vance and make doubly sure he’s ready for a possible deployment.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Recker piloted the destroyer nearer to the cube, while keeping an eye on the sensors. The red-tinged dust storm didn’t let up and here in the crater it whirled in a circle around the alien cube, as though the injured planet was directing its wrath against the object which had caused so much devastation.

  “No sign of a breach on the visible side,” said Aston.

  “And no doors,” said Recker dryly.

  “Whoever built this, they got in and out. We’ve just got to find a way.”

  Hoping for a quick win, Recker flew the warship sideways around the cube at 1500 metres, keeping the forward sensor directed at the target. The second face had suffered more damage than the first and the vertical edges were bowed out so much that silvery stress fractures were visible, while most of the antennae were snapped or gone.

  “Still nothing,” said Recker, peering closely.

  Movement on one of the starboard arrays caught his eye – it was a small shape moving rapidly at low altitude. Without hesitation, Recker turned the spaceship so that the forward array was pointing towards it.

  “Daklan,” said Aston.

  Under Recker’s control, the Expectation surged towards the enemy craft. The Daklan pilot was aware of the danger and had already put the shuttle into a steep dive, banking at the same time. For once, Recker felt like the cat instead of the mouse and the destroyer thundered into the flank of the forty-metre transport, knocking it towards the ground and out of sensor view.

  A moment after the impact, Recker brought the Expectation to a halt and then flew it quickly backwards, hunting for the enemy.

  “There,” said Aston. “They hit the ground.”

  Daklan shuttles were tough and this one had survived the comparatively low-speed impact, though its hull was out of shape. It rose unsteadily from the ground and flew towards the cube, skimming across the floor of the crater. Recker got no satisfaction from the second collision and this time when the shuttle crashed into the surface, he set the Expectation on top of the wreckage, ensuring one of the landing legs came down onto the enemy craft, crushing it utterly.

  “Damn this shitting war!” he yelled. “Bringing us to this!”

  Recker lifted the destroyer off the ground and resumed his circuit of the cube. The third face was the most damaged of all, and only one sheared-off antennae remained out of dozens. A few billion tons of debris covered the ground, and two of the broken spikes had somehow landed almost upright, wedged in position by huge slabs which had detached from the lower part of the cube.

  “There’s an opening,” said Recker.

  “Right down at the ground,” said Burner.

  “I’ll bring us in for a closer look.”

  The lowest two hundred metres of the third face had crumpled like paper and ruptured, forming a long, narrow opening, 1200 metres long and ten high, starting about a hundred metres from the ground. With steady hands, Recker brought the destroyer in and aimed the forward sensor array towards the gap. Unfortunately, the array was angled slightly downwards and no matter how he adjusted the position of the warship, the feed didn’t show much of what lay inside.

  “The array is locked in that position, sir,” said Burner.

  “I know,” Recker growled. “All I can see is alloy.”

  “We should check the fourth face, sir,” Aston suggested. “Maybe there’ll be another opening.”

  “And we didn’t check out the top face too closely,” said Burner.

  Recker didn’t delay and he guided the warship around the cube. The fourth face was bowed like the others and with plenty of stress fractures, though with no sign of a breach large enough for entry.

  “Up we go,” said Recker.

  It was a similar tale on the upper face of the cube, where the antennae were more intact than elsewhere. A brief inspection was enough for Recker to be sure that they’d not be getting inside the satellite from above – it was tightly sealed.

  He returned the spaceship to the third face and studied the opening again. “Is there a way of finding out if that leads anywhere significant?” he asked.

  “You know the answer to that, sir.”

  Recker nodded. “I don’t want to risk the squad until we’ve done everything we can from here.”

  “One of the rear portside arrays might see far enough inside,” said Burner. “I think you’ll have to land in order to bring the array low enough.”

  “Let’s give it a try.”

  A few minutes later, Recker abandoned the effort. The rear portside array was about five metres too high and, though it offered a marginally better view than the forward array, it wasn’t enough to reveal anything new.

  “No sign of any more Daklan,” he mused.

  “Their shuttle-to-shuttle comms is probably functioning, sir,” said Burner. “That one we crushed would have got out a warning to the others.”

  “They’re hanging back,” said Recker. “But for how long?”

  The Daklan didn’t usually tolerate a standoff, however that was assuming an attack stood a chance of producing a
successful outcome. Against the Expectation, even without its armaments, a hundred Daklan shuttles wouldn’t be enough.

  “It’s time to move,” said Recker. He climbed from his seat and strode towards the weapons locker.

  “Sir?” said Aston, her expression one of confusion.

  “Sergeant Vance and his squad are highly trained and skilled soldiers, Commander. What they are not, is trained in the use of alien technology. If they find something inside that cube, they lack the ability to extract the data.”

  Recker pulled a gauss rifle from the rack, checked the ammunition readout and grabbed some spare magazines.

  “I should go,” said Aston.

  “Negative, Commander. I’d trust you to handle the Expectation against any opponent. A few Daklan shuttles won’t cause you any problems.”

  Aston’s lips tightened. Recker wasn’t meant to leave the bridge except under specific circumstances and he could see she was trying to accept that the current situation permitted his departure.

  “I’m going,” he said firmly.

  “I’ll let Sergeant Vance know you’re on your way, sir,” she said.

  For some reason, Recker found himself smiling. “Since that desolator hit us, there’s a stern drift you’ll need to watch out for.”

  Aston smiled back. “I’ll handle it.”

  “You’ll be comms blind once you leave the Expectation, sir,” Burner reminded him.

  “I trust you all to do what’s right.”

  With the handover complete, Recker exited the bridge. He knew this was a risk, but the potential rewards were vast. Putting his misgivings to one side, he sprinted for the underside bay.

  Chapter Ten

  With Recker at the controls, the incision craft dropped smoothly from the opening beneath the Expectation. The moment it emerged into the storm, he felt the winds pushing against the spaceship’s flank and the sensors struggled to penetrate the gloom. Everything vibrated, though it wasn’t from the conditions outside – the destroyer’s overstressed engines produced a resonance that could be heard and felt even through the deployment vehicle’s hull.