Scum of the Universe (Fire and Rust Book 7)

by Anthony James

  “And if Private Kemp is as resistant to illness as RL Fields claims, is there a chance I might live longer?”

  “A chance, sir. I don’t want to offer you hope without evidence.”

  “Spoken like a true professional, Dr Austin.”

  Her expression was pained. “If I set your expectations and I was wrong, I couldn’t live with myself.”

  “I don’t want to die,” Stone admitted. “In truth, it’s not that I fear death – it’s leaving this behind. An unfinished war.”

  “You have good people around you, sir.”

  “I do.” He sighed. “Before the Raggers turned up, I asked myself if I was good enough to do this job.”

  Austin looked uncomfortable. “And?”

  “For a time, my mental strength wavered. Now my mind is exactly where I need it – calm in the center of the storm - and it’s my body that’s failing.” He gave a snort of bitter laughter.

  “It’s time for your pills, sir,” said Austin. She gathered herself and smiled – a real smile filled with warmth. “I can’t promise you the nanoparticles will cure you, sir, but I hope they do.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Stone reached for the half-empty glass of water and watched Austin as she dispensed tablets onto his desk - enough differently colored pills to make a rainbow twice over. “And thank you for your kindness.”

  Austin smiled again and returned to her seat, leaving Stone with the task of choking down his tablets.

  “Feels like I’ve eaten a full meal every time I finish,” he muttered. “Yet my stomach growls for hamburgers.”

  “You’re not allowed…” Austin began. She thought better of it. “Maybe just this once.”

  “And no nagging?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Well that’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Maybe even better than the nanoparticles.”

  Stone tapped out a message on his desktop console and sent it off to a member of his team.

  Bring me a cheeseburger and fries. If a member of the medical team asks, they are for someone else.

  No sooner had he sent the message, than the slightly inflected voice of his PA came through the speakers in his office.

  “RL Trinidad Crane wishes to speak with you, Fleet Admiral. As long as you’re not too busy eating burgers.”

  Stone ignored the programmed insolence. “What does RL Crane want?”

  “He says it’s something important. He requires your presence in Weapons Factory Zero.”

  “What about the details? You’re meant to gather details,” said Stone, picturing his forbidden cheeseburger entering lightspeed on a direct trajectory away from his mouth.

  “He did not provide any details, Fleet Admiral. RL Crane spoke his clearance code and now I am advising you. As per your instructions.”

  “Yes, I know the instructions,” said Stone testily. He was about to ask if it could wait for ten minutes and then gave up. “I’ll come right over.”

  “I will let him know.”

  “Ask my usual team to meet me there.”

  “Consider it done, Fleet Admiral.”

  The PA fell silent. Stone placed his hands palm first on the desk and sighed. Then, he pushed himself to his feet.

  “Dr Austin, would you accompany me to Weapons Factory Zero?”

  “I would be delighted.”

  Ten minutes later, the two of them were in the back of Stone’s personal gravity car. This model had numerous modifications, the most pleasing of which was an upgraded navigational computer that was tied in to the base mainframe. Given the right command codes, the gravity car was able to control almost any other vehicle on the base – stopping them, slowing them or steering them out of the way. It ensured that Stone could get anywhere he required without having to sit in traffic. He never once felt guilty watching cars and trucks – even tanks – come to a halt so that his car could pass. The role of Fleet Admiral had a few perks and this was a good one.

  The journey proceeded and, as usual, Dr Austin didn’t pry. Despite this, she somehow managed to be good company and Stone – not even grudgingly – admitted he’d miss her should Private Kemp’s nanoparticles miraculously cure him. Or if he died.

  The gravity car sped onwards, with its passengers looking through opposite windows. Stone had never got over his sense of wonder at what humanity could achieve if the will existed. The ULAF-1 base was enormous – more than that, the architecture itself exuded a confidence that spoke of defiance, like the buildings were possessed of a collective sentience and a desire to live out an eternity. Thinking about it improved Stone’s mood. While each discovery of a new alien race pushed humanity down the celestial pecking order, being in a place like this allowed him to imagine it was otherwise.

  Weapons Factory Zero was a vast sprawling complex on the northern end of ULAF-1. A high concrete wall surrounded the complex, with guards, tanks and miniguns to deter the curious, as well as missile turrets and railguns to shoot down enemy spaceships.

  The gravity car sailed through the security checkpoints and pulled up at a set of reinforced alloy doors. Stone and Austin exited the vehicle and it drove off to find somewhere to park.

  “Impressive,” said Austin, staring at the armored frame of the building in front of them.

  “Haven’t you been here before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You don’t like it.”

  Austin caught his meaning. “We need to defend ourselves. I just wish we didn’t.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  Passing through the doors, they entered a reception area. Stone spoke briefly to one of the duty officers and advised that he didn’t require company.

  “I know where to find RL Crane. Have any of my staff arrived?”

  “No, sir,” said the officer. “I’ve received communication from a Captain Dyer that we’re to expect company. I’ll tell him you got here first.”

  Stone led the way from the reception area. The moment they stepped into the complex proper, the sounds of machinery came to the fore. Plenty of research took place at Weapons Factory Zero, but its primary purpose was the fabrication of prototypes – both new tech and modifications to the old. Consequently, its many internal areas were filled with specialized tooling machinery, some of which was scrapped if the manufactured hardware didn’t measure up.

  Research Lead Crane was a broad man with a naturally sullen face, though his manner was anything but surly. They found him in the middle of a room filled with sound, machinery and the scent of electricity.

  As it happened, Crane wasn’t in charge of this particular project. That job fell to a Fangrin named Tonstin – one of the few females Stone had seen from her species. She was a little shorter than the average Fangrin male and distinctly slender in comparison. Other than that, she didn’t look much different.

  “Sir,” said Crane. “Welcome to death pulse research.”

  “Fleet Admiral Stone, we have made advances,” said Tonstin in a voice that was rather mellower than that of a male Fangrin.

  Stone’s ears picked up. “What kind of advances?”

  Tonstin indicated over her shoulder and then turned. “This way.”

  She set off with a gait that was somewhere between a lope and a graceful glide across the floor. Like a dancer in a faded red uniform.

  Stone and the others followed. Their destination wasn’t far. A cylinder – four meters or so in length and a meter in diameter – rested on a low platform. Multiple short bars protruded from its surface and they made Stone think of antennae. Countless wires were attached to the device, running in a dozen directions to join with different-sized analytical robots. Most of the wires connected with an anonymous-looking cube which was about a meter along each edge. When Stone concentrated, he thought he could sense a droning coming from it – a droning which somehow penetrated the multitude of other sounds audible in this section of Weapons Factory Zero.

  The area was busy with personnel, which wasn’t surprising g
iven how vital this project was to the survival of the Unity League and the Fangrin. This was just one of the eighty or so ongoing death pulse research and construction projects, many of which were on Fangrin planets.

  At one end of the cylinder, Tonstin impatiently waved two of her subordinates out of the way. Then she stopped and faced the others.

  “We have made advances,” she repeated. “At the same time, we have encountered obstacles.”

  “Every project is the same,” said Stone. “What makes this one different?”

  “This,” said the Fangrin, indicating the cylinder.

  Suddenly, Stone recognized the object from a completely different research area. “That’s one of our stealth prototypes.”

  “Exactly right, sir,” said Crane enthusiastically. “We got this one brought over from another part of the factory. It’s one of the few functioning stealth modules we’ve produced. If you wired this baby into a gravity car, you’d disappear from sight like a Ragger warship.”

  “I’m aware of the prototypes, RL Crane,” said Stone. “The most recent version can just about cloak a shuttle.”

  “A Viper, sir.”

  “I know the technical details,” Stone replied impatiently. “Another five years and the technology might work on something as big as a fleet carrier. Why did you require this module for your research?”

  “The death pulse, sir,” said Crane, as if that explained everything. When he saw that Stone wasn’t in the mood to be drip-fed, he hastily continued. “Most of the components in the Ravok schematics are simple enough for us to manufacture. Hell, some we can make better than they did. After that, we’ve got a bunch of other components we can replicate with time and effort. Lastly, we’ve got the main generator, which produces the pulse. The generator combines dozens of energy types, waits for the power to build and then BAM! it releases, killing Raggers and Sekar alike. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told happens.”

  “What’s that cube?” asked Stone, pointing towards it.

  “That’s a generator prototype,” said Tonstin. “I will show you how it works.”

  Without waiting, she strode languidly towards a bank of control panels.

  “What’s it going to do?” asked Stone.

  “Watch.”

  Tonstin pushed a few buttons. Stone waited. Nothing happened.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “And I want to understand very soon, so I am reassured I have not wasted my time coming here.”

  “The death pulse prototype fired, sir,” said Crane. “Or at least it fired using the five energy types we’ve so far incorporated into this test module.”

  “I didn’t feel anything.”

  “That’s exactly the point, sir.”

  “Now this,” said Tonstin.

  Once again, her fingers danced on the control panel. This time Stone did feel something. An invisible wave thudded against his body. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but nor was it enough to make him flinch.

  “That second discharge was approximately eighteen thousand times stronger than the first,” said Tonstin.

  Stone hadn’t reached the position of Fleet Admiral by being slow on the uptake.

  “The stealth module amplified the death pulse generator’s output,” he stated.

  “Yes, sir,” said Crane, hardly able to contain himself. “It’s the missing link, if you will. If we hadn’t been working on stealth tech, this would have taken us five years – maybe ten - to overcome. The Ravok went about creating their amplifier in a completely different way – we stumbled on this entirely by accident.”

  “Spell out the significance.”

  “Our existing research into stealth tech will take years off the project timeline,” said Tonstin.

  “How soon till we can build a fully functioning death pulse generator?” asked Stone, hardly able to believe the speed of the development.

  “Three years at the earliest,” said Tonstin. “That would be for a version with limited range. I estimate that within two additional years we would have a model with similar capabilities to that reportedly possessed by the Ravok generator.”

  Stone fought down the disappointment, knowing he was naïve to expect that even such a tremendously lucky discovery would bring the project to completion in twelve or eighteen months.

  “How long before we can mass produce the generators?”

  “Once the technological hurdles are overcome, I see no reason why our factories could not produce many such devices,” said Tonstin. “This is a day for celebration.”

  “I congratulate your team,” said Stone. “You’ve been asked to accomplish the impossible.”

  “You think we have only half-accomplished the impossible,” said Tonstin. She grinned and her teeth were pure white and sharp. The sight was unnerving.

  “We might not have five years,” said Stone in agreement.

  “It may be that five years are not required.”

  Stone watched the Fangrin carefully to see if he could guess what she was hinting at. His mind dipped a spoon into a tray heaped with dung and offered him a taste.

  “Tell me,” he snapped, needing to hear it from someone else first.

  “We are a long way behind the Raggers when it comes to stealth technology,” said Tonstin. “Our simulations indicate that a stealth module capable of cloaking a full-size warship would produce sufficient amplification for the generator to function at the same level as the Ravok original.”

  “If we had access to the Ragger stealth technology, how long to finish the project?”

  Tonstin blinked her yellow eyes, slowly as if she was sizing Stone up for a meal. “Six months. Perhaps less.”

  It was something. It was better than something – what the death pulse offered was a chance to escape the worry of extinction when the Sekar inevitably turned up again. With Private Kemp’s immunity nanoparticles being a long way from mass production and even further from mass distribution, this news about the death pulse generator was a potentially incredible development.

  “Thank you for your work,” Stone said, suddenly feeling the coldness of adrenaline pumping through his veins.

  “What now, sir?” asked Crane nervously.

  “I’ll let you know. Whatever happens, it’ll happen soon.”

  Stone told Crane and Tonstin to get on with their work and he led Dr Austin back the way they’d come. Wherever his staff had got to, it wasn’t here, but then again, their vehicles couldn’t shut down the base traffic. At reception, Stone found Captain Dyer just arriving, along with a couple of others from his team.

  “Sorry we’re late, sir. A crawler nav computer went haywire and blocked off one of the main avenues.” Dyer narrowed his eyes. “You’ve had news. It’s something big and something you hate.”

  “You can read that from my face?”

  “A knack, sir.”

  “We’re returning to command and control. I’ll fill you in once we get back. In fact, jump in with me and Dr Austin.”

  The return journey was swift, with no sign of a malfunctioning ground crawler. Stone explained the outcome of his meeting with the death pulse generator researchers. The options from here were few – the Ragger stealth tech might be vital to the survival of humanity and the Fangrin. Even with the new truce in place, those bastards weren’t about to give up their stealth tech – particularly since the Raggers were also vulnerable to the death pulse.

  Assuming Hass-Tei-112 let the rest of his species in on that little secret, thought Stone.

  Either way, it left him with a task he couldn’t ignore yet couldn’t possibly accomplish. He swore under his breath and wondered how the hell he was going to pull this one out of the bag.

  Chapter Three

  Life on the Nullifier was dull, though for once Griffin didn’t mind the downtime too much. The Hantisar battleship was stationed in empty space, approximately two hours high lightspeed from Earth. Its interior swarmed with personnel – soldiers, scientists, analysts, theorists, language
experts and more. To Griffin it seemed like every branch of the ULAF was represented in one form or another. On top of that, the Fangrin had equal numbers onboard and they brought with them a whole bunch of extra department names for Griffin to hear once and then forget.

  “Still not bored?” asked Lieutenant Cassie Dominguez. She gave him a wink for no reason and he grinned at her.

  “Not yet.”

  “Just glad to be helping out, huh?”

  “It’s this or being on patrol.”

  “Or learning how to handle a Hantisar battleship.”

  “I’m not too worried about that.”

  “Maybe they’ll give you the Nullifier?”

  “It’s not going to see active duty – not for months. Maybe not ever.”

  “Not until we’ve stripped it bare of secrets.”

  Griffin didn’t respond at once and cast his eyes around the room. The two of them sat in a makeshift mess area, this one a short walk from the bridge. With the Nullifier completely flushed of hostiles – five Raggers had been discovered and killed during the sweep – it was possible to move about in relative safety.

  The mess area was busy, though much of the activity came from the intel teams working at the Nullifier’s wall consoles. A team of soldiers stood guard, while other personnel poked glumly at their trays.

  Griffin shifted in his chair and its legs scraped against the floor. In front of him, a cup of bad coffee dared him to take a sip, while a flavorless nutrition block offered only a scant challenge to his growling stomach.

  “I can’t see any reason for them to keep us here much longer,” he said.

  “You’ve heard something?” Dominguez peered at him, like her gaze could draw out his secrets.

  He laughed. “Not this time. We’ve done what we can, that’s all.”

  “The Nullifier’s control entity likes you, Jake. You’re its very best buddy. While it keeps talking, high command will leave you here.”

  “I’ve heard you speak to it, Cassie, so don’t pretend I’m its favorite. Besides, the control entity doesn’t tell me anything new these days. Every conversation is pored over by the language teams and compared with previous conversations in search of new information or contradictions. I’ve got access to those reports and the language guys believe the questioning is no longer bearing fruit.”