Scum of the Universe (Fire and Rust Book 7)

by Anthony James

  A comms link appeared on his HUD.

  “Captain Conway, I’m informed the new stealth suits fit perfectly,” said Admiral Kolb.

  “Yes, ma’am, they do.”

  “We’re exiting lightspeed in a little over three hours. Our arrival point will be a substantial distance from the target. Make your way to the bay.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Are we departing immediately we enter local space?”

  “That’s the plan. If it changes, you’ll be the last to know.”

  From the sound of it, Kolb had some past ground experience.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I look forward to not hearing.”

  “Go. Your transport awaits.”

  The channel closed and Conway took a deep breath.

  “We’ve had the order. Grab your shit and let’s move.”

  “We’re boarding already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Three hours of…”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah, crap.”

  The squad had everything they needed in this room and were ready in moments. Conway left the room and they followed him towards the main bay. The Juniper’s crew were getting ready and everywhere was busy.

  “Are you sure we can’t test the stealth, sir?” asked Warner longingly. “Better to do it now than when the Raggers are shooting at us.”

  “No. It worked fine in the weapons lab, so it’ll work against the Raggers.”

  Conway led the squad into the bay through one of the mid-point entrances. Their destination was directly opposite. A Viper waited for them, with its forward boarding ramp resting on the bay floor. A crowd of maintenance personnel and technicians clustered around nearby, carrying tools and diagnostic kit. Several others descended the ramp to the floor.

  For a moment, Conway paused and looked at the vessel. It was unmistakably a Viper, but different. The undersection came lower to the ground, as if the spaceship weighed an extra twenty thousand tons. To Conway’s eye, the assault fighter possessed an almost burly appearance.

  More than that, the usually dull alloys were imbued with a strange glimmering quality and it seemed to Conway as if he was viewing the spaceship from his periphery rather than head on. It was distinctly unpleasant and no amount of squinting would bring the vessel into full focus.

  “My brain doesn’t like it,” said Kemp. “It’s giving me a headache.”

  “Don’t fight it,” said Lieutenant Rembra. “Just accept the presence of this spaceship and your mind will be happy.”

  Kemp grunted noncommittally.

  Not far from the boarding ramp, Conway was intercepted by one of the ground crew. They exchanged polite greetings.

  “Is it ready?” asked Conway.

  “Ready as it’ll ever be,” said the man, echoing the words of Deb Morgan only a short time earlier.

  “Doesn’t inspire confidence,” said Lockhart, looking bemused.

  “It’s the best we could do in the time.”

  Conway felt a shiver of events repeating themselves.

  “We’ve been ordered onboard.”

  “The crew is waiting for you.” The man smiled. “Good job they got there first, since they’d never make it to the bridge with so many of you inside.”

  “Don’t I know it,” said Conway sourly.

  With clearance to board, he ascended the ramp and into the Viper. The internal space was cramped like he remembered it and by the time the last of his squad was inside, Conway was beginning to understand how a canned sardine felt. It was loud and the spaceship vibrated like something was straining its onboard systems before it even took off.

  With no space to sit, it was going to be an uncomfortable wait. Conway stopped in the corridor a short distance from the bridge entrance door.

  “Move up!” yelled Warner. “Cal can’t get his ass out of the airlock.”

  “Go left!” said Torres. “We don’t all have to follow the captain.”

  “He owes me money.”

  “Piss off and go left, Cal.”

  No sooner had Torres delivered her polite instruction than Conway’s earpiece hummed and a channel opened to the whole squad.

  “Welcome to the ULS Raider,” said Captain Griffin, no note of humor in his voice. “This is it, ladies and gentlemen. Another tipping point. My crew and I will do everything we can to keep you safe until deployment. For now, you’ll have to accept the accommodation.”

  And that was it. The channel went quiet. Conway had a countdown going on his HUD to let him know the expected time before the Juniper entered local space.

  00:02:54:08.

  He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and thought of home.

  Chapter Twelve

  The timer had been showing 00:00:00:00 for about a minute when Conway felt the nausea of reentry. Before the feeling subsided, the Raider’s propulsion system climbed in volume, taking on a bass rumble unlike any other Viper Conway had travelled on.

  He looked at Corporal Barron next to him and the whites of her eyes shone through her visor.

  “Any moment,” she said.

  Conway tried to recall how long the bay doors took to open and close. It wasn’t long – measured in seconds and less than a minute. He nodded at Barron.

  “Best find something to hold onto.”

  “No handles.”

  The Viper’s crew didn’t give much notice. When the comms channel opened next it was Lieutenant Kenyon.

  “Lift off in approximately five seconds.”

  Three seconds later, the bass took on an underlying harder note which made the hairs on Conway’s neck stand on end. It became louder and harsher, and the microphone in his helmet attenuated the noise. The floor underfoot shifted and Conway adjusted his stance, while the others did likewise, swearing and cursing into the open channel.

  Griffin knew how to fly on the edge and Conway didn’t expect this to be gentle ride. He was right. The propulsion roar came to a crescendo and the floor tilted forwards. Conway stumbled and tried to put his hand against the corridor wall opposite but was instead pushed backwards by the immense forces which the life support had no hope of completely suppressing.

  For many seconds, Conway was pressed back and hardly able to move. In his mind, he tried to imagine the Raider’s progress. He guessed the Juniper was already far behind, and the Viper showed no sign of slowing. He lifted a gauntleted hand to his face and his arm felt like it weighed two hundred pounds.

  The bass of the propulsion receded, as did the harshness, to be replaced by the metallic howl which had started during lift off. There was nothing serene about the situation – the bumping and shaking increased and Conway was almost glad to be pinned against the passage wall by the acceleration. His squad didn’t let up with the curses until Lockhart, evidently pissed off enough to lose his cool, yelled at everyone to shut the hell up.

  After ten, maybe fifteen minutes, the savage acceleration ended and Conway figured that the Viper was at its maximum sublight velocity. The all-encompassing propulsion sound quietened significantly enough to provide relief for the soldiers. However, the bumping of the spaceship didn’t completely end and Conway thought it indicated a problem somewhere with the hardware. Usually everything smoothed out when a warship started coasting through the vacuum.

  On the positive side, Conway found he could move normally again, though his body felt battered from the crushing surge of the Viper’s journey towards its destination and his heart was racing.

  Movement caught his eye. The bridge door opened and Lieutenant Dominguez appeared.

  “Captain Conway, you’re invited up front for a look,” she said.

  “An offer I can’t refuse.”

  She grinned and stepped aside so that he could squeeze into the compact bridge. It looked identical to the other Viper bridges he’d seen, with low lights and not much room.

  “Captain Conway,” Lieutenant Kenyon greeted him from the comms seat to the right of the door.

  One man didn’t turn around – Griffin had
his eyes on the main console in front of him and his shoulders were rigid with the strain of holding the control bars steady.

  “The Raider is fitted with stealth tech that’s going to save all our lives, but the extra power modules they’ve fitted make it a bastard to fly.”

  The statement answered Conway’s question about what Griffin was doing in charge of something small like a Viper. Privately, he was glad the ULAF had given the job to one of its best officers but he didn’t say anything in case it made him look like he was kissing ass.

  “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  Griffin lifted a hand from one of the controls and gestured towards the curved screen on the bulkhead. The Viper lurched and he hastily put his hand back in place.

  “Thought you might want to see the lay of the land, Captain Conway.”

  “A ball of rock,” said Conway, turning his attention to the grey sphere on the forward sensor array.

  “Hul-J5, to give it the correct name,” said Dominguez from her seat. “But you’re right. It’s another ball of rock.”

  “Where’s the target?”

  “We don’t know,” said Dominguez. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

  “How long, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “As long as it takes, Captain. That’s the best I can tell you. The data you took from Reol tells us the Raggers have research facilities here, we just don’t know where, how big or how well protected they are.”

  “Just like the briefing said.”

  “Sorry,” said Dominguez. “I guess you were hoping we might have access to stuff nobody told you.”

  “It happens.”

  “Not this time.”

  “Want me to make room?”

  “Stay,” said Griffin. “That machine in the corner will spit out a cup of coffee if you’re thirsty enough. Tastes like they made it from the scrapings off a Ragger’s asshole.”

  “I’ll pass.” Even if Griffin promised him the best cup of coffee in the whole damn universe, Conway wasn’t taking his suit helmet off, in case it screwed with his stealth webbing. The thought gave him an idea.

  “I told my squad not to test their stealth suits on the carrier, but maybe I did the wrong thing. Mind if I activate my webbing, to see how it works up close?”

  “Be my guest,” said Dominguez. “I take it they sent you out here on a wing and a prayer?”

  “Promises and reassurances,” Conway confirmed. “Kind of amounts to the same thing.” He thought about it. “Come to think of it, I don’t recall hearing either promises or reassurances. A few tests and then we were told to move out.”

  “Figures.”

  “The timing was tight,” said Conway, wondering who he was sticking up for. “They gave us a quick inspection and told us everything was in order. Anyway, let’s see how this goes.” He activated the stealth system and noted the increased drain on his suit battery. The power module would run for a week with the additional drain – a far cry from its usual longevity.

  Dominguez couldn’t look up from the sensor panel for long, but Kenyon squinted towards Conway from less than two meters.

  “I can see you, but only because I know you’re there,” he said. “If you know what I mean.”

  “What if I stand over here?” said Conway, stepping sideways behind Griffin’s chair and pressing himself up against the portside wall.

  “Hmm. I can hardly see you at all. Hold still a moment.”

  Conway held himself in place.

  “Now move.”

  Conway took a long step right.

  “When you’re still, you might as well be invisible. When you moved, I saw like a shifting in the air.”

  “That’s what I hoped you’d say,” said Conway, familiar with the limitations of the Ragger stealth suits. “Sounds like the tech guys pulled off a good copy.”

  “Want to send in the others?” asked Kenyon. He considered the difficulties of that. “Or maybe I can go out and take a look.”

  “Thanks for the offer,” said Conway. “The weapons guys confirmed the stealth is operational – I only wanted to see how it compared to the originals.”

  “And you’re happy?”

  “Happy enough. We might surprise our Ragger buddies.”

  Dominguez cut off the conversation.

  “I’ve got something.” She sounded worried.

  “Tell me,” said Griffin.

  “Surface readings are consistent with those we found on Rundine not long after the Sekar killed everyone.”

  “The Sekar have been here?”

  “I’m checking, but it seems likely. Much of the sensor data is garbled at this range.”

  “How long until you can eliminate doubt?” asked Griffin.

  “The data quality is improving every moment we maintain this course, sir.”

  “Do you want me to speak to the Juniper, sir?” asked Kenyon. “Their sensors might have picked up data that’s beyond our hardware.”

  “Orders are to maintain comms silence, Lieutenant. If we can obtain proof the Raggers have no transmission monitoring stations out here, then maybe we can see what Admiral Kolb thinks about the situation.”

  “I’ve run the preliminary sensor data through one of our simulators and there’s a 73% chance this place could support life,” said Dominguez.

  “But not now.”

  “There are a few minor aberrations in the atmospheric composition, which is probably why the simulator gave a 73. Otherwise, I’d fully expect us to find lifeforms if the Sekar hadn’t got here before us.”

  “So what’s this planet doing in the Ragger comms data from Reol?” asked Kenyon. He went quiet and Conway detected a hint of embarrassment. “Oh yeah. The Raggers would definitely be interested in a life-hosting planet.”

  The Raider flew on and Conway remained quiet and still. He was intensely curious to learn what the spaceship’s crew would discover and hoped that he wouldn’t be instructed to leave the bridge. The planet grew larger on the viewscreen and the wavering quality to its outline informed Conway that it was on maximum zoom with some enhancement overlays. It was no wonder Dominguez couldn’t offer any certainty.

  “Here we go,” said Dominguez at last. “The southern hemisphere is blanketed in loose carbon, probably to a depth of several meters. I’ve tallied the readings with those from Rundine and got a match with the data taken from the forested areas. Much of Hul-J7 was once covered in trees.”

  “This is proof the Sekar came here,” said Griffin, not quite asking a question.

  “As much proof as we need, sir.”

  “Yet our intel suggests the presence of a Ragger research facility, and that intel is only months old.”

  “We know the Sekar activity has increased,” said Kenyon. “It’s possible they’ve attacked dozens – hundreds – of Ragger planets recently.”

  “Lieutenant Dominguez, can you put a date on when this happened?” asked Griffin.

  “I can guess, sir.”

  “Then do so.”

  “Comparing the readings from Hul-J7, I believe this happened a few years before the Sekar attacked Rundine.”

  “Yet the Raggers had this as an active world on our intel data,” said Griffin, still not turning his head from the controls.

  “With a genetic research facility,” Dominguez confirmed.

  “Keep scanning. Once you’re confident there are no Ragger facilities on the visible side, I’ll change heading to take us around in a high orbit.”

  Another couple of minutes passed and Conway began to feel like a statue. Sergeant Lockhart made enquiries on the comms as to whether he was sharing cream cakes and a bone china cup of Earl Grey tea with the officers of the bridge, to which Conway replied that Sergeant Lockhart would be next man on point.

  “I think I’ve got something on the eastern cusp, sir,” said Dominguez. “I’m not sure what it is – I’ve sent you details of a new heading.”

  Conway felt the Viper bank a fraction and Griffin muttered a f
ew curses about the difficulties of controlling the assault craft.

  “Not everything died, sir,” said Dominguez. “There are trees on the surface.”

  “Just trees?”

  “No. Something else.” She didn’t speak for a moment as she pondered the sensor data. “I think it’s a dome, sir. A big dome of alloy.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Pillars around it – I can’t confirm if they form a complete circle.”

  “Raggers.”

  “Got to be.”

  “Any sign of a landing strip?”

  “Not yet.”

  The words betrayed Dominguez’s underlying certainty that there would be a landing strip here and it was just a matter of finding it.

  Fifteen minutes later and Conway felt like he’d been on the bridge for an age. The time spent gave him an insight into what lay ahead.

  “The dome is eight hundred meters high, with a diameter of two thousand,” said Dominguez, running through what she’d discovered so far. “The twelve surrounding pillars are exactly one thousand meters tall. There’s no landing strip visible and no sign of where the Ragger heavy lifter dropped the support equipment.”

  “Because everywhere is covered in trees,” said Griffin.

  “Real trees. For thirty klicks in every direction, centered on the dome,” Dominguez confirmed.

  “And an energy type coming from those pillars consistent with what we detected on Qali-5,” Griffin added.

  “Those assholes are up to something,” said Kenyon. “And for once it seems as if they’re making life, rather than taking it away.”

  “Why’d they be doing that?” asked Conway.

  “That’s a good question, Captain,” Griffin replied.

  Conway didn’t think he was going to get his answer and then Griffin spoke again.

  “We’d be fools to think the Raggers aren’t working on their own solutions to the Sekar life drain. Maybe this is an example of it right here.”

  It was a guess, but it resonated with Conway. The more he thought about it, the more he suspected that Griffin was correct – or at least on the right track.

  “Does that change anything, sir?”

  “Hell no! You’re going to get inside that dome, find out what’s there and steal everything you can.”