Scum of the Universe (Fire and Rust Book 7)

by Anthony James

  “Yes, sir. There’ll be more than enough time for our pre-launch transmission to reach them and for their response to be waiting for us when we re-enter local space.”

  “It’d be nice to have some good news,” said Commander Blackwood.

  “Our own attempt at treachery,” said Stone with a half-laugh. “We aren’t as good at it as the Raggers.”

  Four hours later, Captain Vince declared himself confident that the last Ragger on the Defiant was dead, though when you were dealing with invisible soldiers it was difficult to be one hundred percent certain. Either way, patrols through the carrier’s interior were increased tenfold. Another sweep would be required at some point when the ship was docked.

  “I’m going to catch some sleep,” said Stone. “If I can.”

  “Good luck with that, sir,” said Blackwood. “I still feel wired.”

  “Me too.”

  Stone had no intention of asking for tablets to help him sleep – he’d had enough pills to last a lifetime – and he returned to his quarters. Unlike most warships, the Defiant had sufficient room to pay lip service to comfort, which meant Stone had the use of a bedroom, an office and his own bathroom.

  He sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress was almost thick enough for him to sink into, but not quite. Stone rolled his shoulders and allowed himself a moment to appreciate the lack of pain in his body. Before Qali-5, he’d been free of aches and he experienced a sense of incredible relief to have his body returned to its natural state.

  Ten minutes later, he was asleep.

  Stone woke to the alarm and returned to the bridge, where everything was like it was before. Most of the crew who’d been at station during the engagement were off-shift and their replacements were equally efficient. Soon, the familiar faces returned, looking a bit fresher after a few hours’ sleep.

  The anger and frustration didn’t leave Stone, though he learned to accommodate them. When the time came for the Defiant to exit lightspeed, he felt as if a week had passed, rather than twenty-two hours. Memories returned to him from fifty or more years ago – how the days leading to Christmas had always seemed to the young Randell Stone like they took five times as long as every other day. The recollection was strange and comforting at the same time.

  “Twenty seconds until tharniol drive switchover!” yelled Lieutenant Macie Stowe.

  The switchover happened and Stone hardly noticed the wave of sickness. His crew didn’t require management and they completed an area scan, confirming that the other ships of the fleet had safely arrived at the same location. Stone spoke briefly to Admiral Isental to keep himself occupied while he waited for the comms team to pick up the transmissions not just from the Juniper, but from New Destiny and elsewhere.

  “We’ve had nothing recent from New Destiny, sir. The Raggers must have blocked transmissions,” said Lieutenant Dowd.

  “Or destroyed our comms satellites.”

  “That’s another possibility,” Dowd agreed.

  “Anything else? I can’t believe the Raggers shut us down so quickly.”

  “It takes a few moments to pick out the useful from the routine,” said Dowd, running his finger down a list of inbound comms. He opened a file and scanned the contents. “The enemy are believed to have arrived with a force in excess of nine hundred spaceships, sir.”

  “Overkill.” Stone grimaced at the news. “What about their demands?”

  Dowd winced as he continued reading. “They want us to hand over the Hantisar fleet, sir.”

  “What do we get in return?”

  “I don’t think they’re offering anything in return.”

  “Is there anything about negotiations? Have we established a line of communication?” Stone was aware of how dealings with the Raggers usually proceeded. He wasn’t expecting much and got exactly what he expected.

  “Nothing, sir. Remember this transmission was sent hours ago.” Dowd continued scrolling. “We’ve received thousands of updates from other parts of the Unity League.”

  “That’ll give me something to read when we’re at lightspeed.”

  Lieutenant Swain looked across from his nearby seat. “Got the last transmission from the Juniper, sir.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Mission to Hul-J5 ongoing, sir.”

  Stone bit down on the urge to swear. “That’s it?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s it.”

  With a deep breath, Stone calmed himself. “Ongoing is better than failed.”

  He returned to his station, having heard nothing to improve his opinion of the situation.

  “Any change in orders, sir?” asked Commander Blackwood.

  “No. We’re going to New Destiny.”

  “What if our appearance makes the Raggers do something we’ll regret?”

  “They won’t see us, since we’ll target an arrival a few million klicks away. I’d rather be in position from the outset.”

  “New Destiny it is.”

  Current procedure dictated fleet warships should not resume an interrupted journey before the commanding officer was certain that no Sekar had followed. On this occasion, Stone planned to overrule his own procedure after thirty minutes, on the basis that the Sekar had already shown up at New Destiny before the Raggers arrived. He didn’t want any more of the enemy trailing him, but in the circumstances, he couldn’t see an alternative that didn’t involve risk.

  Stone used the interlude to read through the comms traffic. Unless he ordered another break in the journey, this was his last opportunity to issue orders to the ULAF forces and he hoped that the transmissions would give him something he could work with. Unfortunately, the details about the Ragger attack on New Destiny were sketchy and painted a picture that was far from complete.

  “I know nothing, yet I also know everything,” he said to Captain Dyer.

  “What do you mean, sir?” asked Dyer, clearly with his own feelings on the situation.

  “The Raggers won’t have sophisticated demands. They’ll park their fleet off our world and demand our capitulation. I talked about negotiations, but the enemy aren’t interested in dealing with us – the only acceptable outcome as far is they’re concerned is for us to give them what they want.”

  “And what do they want?”

  “Everything.”

  “So what are the options?”

  “We either destroy the Ragger fleet or we give up our people into a slavery where the masters dine on their servants.”

  “You’re planning to fight.” Dyer’s expression was unreadable.

  “I can’t see any other way.”

  “With so many in the enemy fleet, we can’t prevent them deploying incendiaries if that’s what they choose.”

  “Millions will die. More likely billions.” said Stone. “Better to die this way than end up as livestock to the Raggers.”

  “Is that your decision to make, sir?”

  “You know there’s nobody else,” said Stone quietly.

  “Yes, sir. I know. I agree with your decision – I just wanted to be sure you were aware of the ramifications.”

  “It will never be out of my thoughts, Captain Dyer.”

  “Then we shouldn’t wait.”

  It was a monumental decision – a fact which wasn’t lost on Stone. He felt his resolve harden and he returned to the comms team to give them instructions.

  Having ordered the bulk of the Unity League fleet – including the Hantisar warships – to rendezvous at a place close to New Destiny, Stone sent a request for assistance to the Fangrin Governor, Londil Terax. The Fangrin hadn’t let the Unity League down yet and he didn’t expect anything other than substantial assistance on this occasion.

  Having done as much as he could, Stone gave the command for his fleet to enter lightspeed once more. When the transition was over, he spent some time at his console in thought. Based on the engagement in the Indul-L9 system, Stone felt it likely the ULAF had the outright muscle to destroy the Ragger fleet at New Destiny and the
re was no way in hell the enemy could pretend that such losses were insignificant.

  The overriding concern was that the Raggers might have already predicted that Stone would be left with no option other than to order a full-scale attack. If that was true, the Raggers would surely have further tricks up their sleeves.

  Or perhaps they’d miscalculated.

  In his dealings with the Raggers, Stone had learned many things – most importantly that his enemy could use the truth as easily as they could use lies. That was what made them so dangerous – you never knew how the mixture was balanced.

  Another memory came to Stone – that of a throwaway line said to him in jest by his father. He couldn’t remember how it came about, but the words – maybe jumbled by the passage of time - were still lodged in his brain

  It doesn’t matter how much someone lies and cheats, Randell. Or how they pull the wool over your eyes. They can’t hide from a punch in the face.

  With a feeling of infinite sadness, Stone hoped his long-dead father wouldn’t mind him scaling that advice up to a planetary level.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Ragger soldier’s hesitation cost it dearly. With an instinct perhaps only the Fangrin possessed, Lieutenant Atomar lashed out with a massive arm. Conway couldn’t see the enemy, but he knew the blow connected. The Ragger impacted with the wall, producing a crack that could only be terminal. Atomar wasn’t done – he reached down and hauled the enemy upright.

  With his chain gun held in place by its harness, the Fangrin used both arms in a squeezing-twisting motion. Conway heard the crunching of bones and then Atomar sprinted up the steps, trailing the body behind him.

  “I will throw this one in with the others,” he growled. “In case it is discovered.”

  “Don’t bother,” said Conway, but Atomar was already gone around the corner.

  For long seconds, Conway watched and listened with his helmet microphone on maximum sensitivity. No other Raggers in stealth suits came, though some arrived from the left and right corridors carrying rifles. The squad were lined up on stairs that were about to become increasingly crowded.

  “Got a bunch of normal Raggers coming our way, sir,” said Warner from up top. “Eight, maybe ten.”

  “The enemy knows we are here,” said Lieutenant Rembra. “The alarm says as much.”

  Conway wasn’t so sure – the Raggers might well believe the attackers were in the forest outside. Except it wasn’t going to take them long to find that room filled with bullet-riddled corpses.

  “Let’s kill these ones first,” he said, putting a couple of shots into the chest of the closest Ragger. “That’ll give us some breathing room.”

  The first enemy crumpled and the next one did likewise when Conway shot it three times. He changed aim and killed three more. In both left and right directions, Conway saw other Raggers with rifles and there was no way they could fail to notice what was happening. Nevertheless, they just kept on walking towards the stairs like everything was dandy.

  A short burst of Gilner fire came from behind Conway. Following a pause came a second short burst.

  “Clear on the stairs,” said Warner. “Stupid assholes didn’t even move.”

  “These are like worker insects or something,” said Barron. “Maybe they were grown too fast to develop survival instincts.”

  “Or aren’t intended to have those instincts,” said Atomar, rejoining the squad.

  Warner thought otherwise. “I think we’re just too good for them.”

  At almost any other time, it would have been an interesting conversation. Right now, Conway didn’t want to hang around and talk. He gave the order to move and ran from the stairs into the corridor leading to the teleport control area.

  The squad followed and someone fired a Gilner on the way.

  “Save your bullets for stealth troops,” Conway ordered.

  He reached the intersection and stuck his head out to look both ways. He wasn’t happy to find that left and right led to identical rooms, each containing a row of curved doors which he understood to be airlifts.

  “This way,” he said, running left.

  “Ah crap, no stairs?” asked Kemp.

  “Seems not.”

  “We aren’t all fitting in one lift,” said Freeman.

  “We’ll go down in two,” said Conway, quickly dividing his squad.

  He approached one of the lifts. It surprised him by opening without his interaction, revealing an empty car. A sixth sense told Conway something was amiss and his finger squeezed the trigger on his rifle without any conscious prompting from his brain. He raked the interior of the car, watching patches of blood appear in midair.

  By the time his magazine was empty, the interior of the lift was painted a grisly red. One of the enemy stealth suits had failed and this Ragger lay twitching in a heap with other aliens only made visible by the coating of their own blood.

  “I guess they weren’t expecting that, huh?” said Kemp, nudging the alien with his boot.

  “Guess not.”

  Conway stepped into the lift and felt a bone snap beneath his weight. The lift panel told him what he needed to know.

  “These lifts only stop at two places – up and down. We’re currently at up.”

  “Down it is.”

  “Lieutenant Rembra - call the second lift.”

  “It is done.”

  The second lift was empty and nine members of the squad went in, leaving Conway and the other seven to share with what he estimated was six dead Raggers. Nobody so much as batted an eye at the quantity of blood, the smell, or the unconventional flooring. Once everyone was inside, Conway stabbed his finger on the activation button. The door closed and the lift began its descent.

  “Either this is a real slow lift or we’re going down a long way,” said Torres.

  Conway didn’t want to speculate. The Ragger engineers were skilled in tunneling and they seemed to have infinite resources to do what they pleased when it came to setting up facilities like this one. He couldn’t imagine a logical reason for this place to go deep below the surface, but then the Raggers had never conformed to logic.

  The lift stopped and Conway felt the tension heighten. He aimed his gun at the door and waited for it to open. After a brief delay, it did so. The room outside appeared empty and Conway listened carefully, gripped by a feeling that a squad of Ragger stealth soldiers might be doing likewise.

  Conway’s standoff with an empty room was cut short by the emergence of Lieutenant Atomar from the adjacent lift. Accompanied by Gundro and Darax, he surged from the lift car swinging his arms in great, scything movements.

  “Nothing,” grunted Atomar.

  The lift exit room was joined by three passages and Conway paused to read the signs. Control, Receiving, Other.

  “Other?” he asked. “Does that mean anything to you, Lieutenant Rembra?” Compared to the Fangrin, humanity was still lacking in experience when it came to the Raggers.

  “I have no insight.”

  “In that case, we stick with Plan A.”

  “Control it is,” said Lockhart.

  The presence of stealth soldiers made Conway cautious. While the enemy couldn’t see him any better than he could see them, the Raggers would have the numbers and the know-how.

  “Quickly and quietly,” he reminded the squad, heading into the passage which led towards the control area.

  The corridor was wide and continued for many meters until it ended at an intersection. Closed doors at regular intervals on both walls hid secrets that Conway was minded to unearth.

  “Keep watch,” he said, stopping at the first door.

  His intrusion software got it open and Lieutenant Atomar leaned into the room without hesitation. Conway checked it out too and saw what he needed to see.

  “Kill them.”

  At twelve meters to each side, it was a large room. The opposite wall was covered in screens, with control panels jutting out at about waist level. The room was occupie
d by a crew of eight Raggers, wearing drab red clothing that wouldn’t protect them in a vacuum. Half of the occupants pored over the control panels, while the other half looked curiously towards the door.

  Atomar’s chain gun spat out a hundred or so bullets and Conway’s Gilner fired twenty more. When he released the trigger, the Raggers were dead. The equipment had suffered damage, which couldn’t be helped.

  “Corporal Freeman, get your ass in here.”

  When it came to pissing about with alien tech, Freeman was a hard man to hold back. He entered the room and made straight for the only undamaged console.

  “Not here.”

  Conway didn’t waste time on questions. “It’s not here,” he repeated. “Let’s try the next door.”

  He hadn’t made it to the door when he heard a Gilner discharge.

  “I saw something back towards the lifts,” said Warner.

  “Did you hit it?”

  “I don’t know.” A cracking sound overlaid Warner’s voice and then the soldier yelled in pain. “Ah shit!

  The Ragger gun fired again and then came the sound of chain guns. Conway felt like he was running through treacle and by the time he made it into the corridor, the action was over. Warner had been the unlucky recipient of a shot which grazed his upper arm. Blood flowed from the wound and Corporal Brice jabbed him unceremoniously with an injector.

  “He’ll live. Just got to stop this blood flowing on top of his webbing.”

  The Ragger which made the shot wasn’t so lucky – Conway spotted its chewed-up body at the end of the passage. The enemy’s stealth suit had failed and he could see the intricate wiring reflecting the alarm light.

  Conway raced to the next door. He was sure a better way existed to position stealth troops, but his lack of experience was beginning to hold him back. The newest training manuals didn’t even cover situations where two sides faced each other in total darkness, since all soldiers in the ULAF were equipped with night vision sensors.

  The squad did what they could to secure the passage, while Conway waited for the door to open. Corporal Freeman crouched nearby, his eagerness palpable. Lieutenant Atomar simply stood a little offset from the door and kept his chain gun pointing in the right direction.