“Dog’s Piss?” said Recker.
“It’s rough, sir,” said Private Steigers. “It’s like they pull it straight from the toilet bowl you piss it out in.”
“A fine brew,” said Shadar. “And the bet is not forgotten.”
The talk died down, but not before it had noticeably lightened the mood. It was obvious that the squad needed an extended break – not like the time they’d spent on Ivisto, but time away from the military. Of course they weren’t unique in that, though they’d earned it more than most.
They arrived at the internal shuttle, which was accessed by five pairs of double-doors which led directly from the corridor. A panel on the wall was the first sign of technology Recker had seen since leaving the bridge. It wasn’t anything sophisticated and when he touched the glossy black surface, a red light changed to blue. Twenty seconds later, all five sets of doors opened.
“Inside,” said Recker, stepping across the threshold into a shuttle car which was no more than a horizontal cylinder with a flat floor, no seating, and a scattering of dead Lavorix.
In moments, the squad had gathered inside, their torch beams hardly enough to illuminate the space, as if the death sphere pressed more heavily here. A panel adjacent to the door had a basic menu, each destination represented by a code rather than a name. Recker chose the last option on the list and hoped it was the right one.
The doors closed and the shuttle accelerated. Private Drawl idly kicked at the head of a nearby corpse, while Private Steigers hummed irritatingly into the open channel until Sergeant Vance told him to shut up.
A feeling of deceleration heralded their arrival and when the doors opened, Recker was non-the-wiser as to where in hell the car had stopped. Outside, an empty room the width of the five double doors had only a single exit.
“Let’s check it out,” said Recker.
His agitation was getting the better of him and he hurried across the room. Once the soldiers were off the shuttle, Recker touched the access panel and the door opened noiselessly. A short passage led to another door, this one no different in appearance to the first.
“That’s the shuttle entrance,” said Recker, not sure how he knew.
“Are you sure, sir?” asked Vance. “It just looks like another door to me.”
“We’ll soon find out.”
The door opened into an airlock lit in dark blue and with space to accommodate thirty or more Lavorix. A basic panel on one wall offered control over the doors as well as a comms link to other places.
“The shuttle,” said Recker, listening to the vessel’s propulsion which was audible from the airlock.
Since both the Gorgadar and the shuttle were already pressurized, the inner door opened immediately Recker touched the access panel, and he entered a long, wide bay with inward-curving side walls. A pair of three-metre evil-looking stubby-barrelled artillery pieces floated on their gravity drives midway along the bay, their guns aimed directly at the airlock.
“Auto-targeting switched on,” said Vance. “But nobody around to give the firing instruction.”
Ignoring the guns, Recker strode rapidly for the bay exit, fifty metres away. This shuttle had plenty of capacity and probably served as both a troop and artillery transport. The opposite door led into a narrow corridor with two rooms off each side. Giving in to curiosity, Recker operated the access panel for one and gazed into a space with four uncomfortable-looking bunks and another of the basic consoles he’d seen back in the airlock.
“Officer’s quarters,” he said, heading for the short flight of steps at the end of the corridor.
At the top of those steps, another door opened onto a square bridge with a sloped forward bulkhead. This bridge was far better equipped than Recker had expected, given the rudimental design elsewhere. A single, curved console was designed for five operators and he noted similarities with the hardware on the bridge. Everything was powered up and an array of screens mounted on the console displayed feeds from the sensors. Most of those feeds were aimed at the side walls, while two were pointing at a pair of thick-looking doors which Recker was sure led to the launch tunnel through the Gorgadar’s armour.
“Corporal Montero, think you can figure out those comms?” said Recker.
Montero was in the doorway, waiting for an invitation. “I don’t know, sir,” she said.
“Sit,” ordered Recker, pointing to the centre-left station. “I’ll deal with the comms for now. Let me know when you’re ready to take over.”
“I’ll give it my best shot,” said Montero, her eyes on the console. “I don’t know if…”
“You can,” said Recker firmly. “The basics are the same as the HPA and Meklon kit. All that’s new is the panel arrangement.”
He dropped himself into the centre seat, noting that the leather covering was shrunken and cracked here as well. A check of the instrumentation reassured him the shuttle was ready to fly. He opened a channel to the bridge.
“I’m ready to go,” he said.
“Good luck, sir,” said Burner.
Unwilling to delay a moment longer, Recker sent the launch command to the Gorgadar’s docking bay computer. A confirmation light flashed up straight away and he touched it once to accept.
The two doors ahead slid open rapidly to reveal a long tunnel and another set of doors. Recker was sure there’d be at least two other pairs between the shuttle and the void. A thump of acceleration he hadn’t instigated told him the bay computer was still in control. It guided the shuttle along the launch tunnel at an ever-increasing speed. The doors approached quicker than Recker was expecting and opened at the last possible moment. More doors came and went and then the shuttle was ejected into darkness.
Awaiting their arrival was the Ixidar. Recker located it on the sensors, added it to the tactical and set a course for the damaged warship.
Chapter Seven
The Gorgadar’s shuttle had exited the bay carrying the same velocity as the parent warship and its surprisingly capable engines possessed enough grunt to surpass four hundred kilometres per second, though not by much.
In a short time, the vessel was beyond the eighty-kilometre radius of the death sphere and the moment it happened, Recker felt alive again in a way he couldn’t properly explain. It was as if the darkness around the Gorgadar added a malignant weight to his body that only became apparent once it was gone. Even breathing was less of an effort and he sucked air into his lungs, ignoring the mustiness he’d grown to hate.
“I feel ten years younger,” said Eastwood.
“Same here,” said Recker. “It makes me wonder what’ll happen to us if we stay too long on the Gorgadar. Maybe we’ll start dropping dead like Unvak did.”
“I think it’s a serious consideration, sir,” said Eastwood, with a glance over his shoulder as if he were looking for the other members of the crew. He opened his mouth to say something and thought better of it.
Recker met the other man’s gaze and nodded his understanding. “The moment we’re able, we’ll leave the Gorgadar and we won’t come back. Not unless someone shows us proof there’s no risk.”
“Fat chance of that, sir.”
Which of the two statements Eastwood disagreed with wasn’t clear and Recker didn’t ask him to clarify. He gave his attention to the console and kept the shuttle on course. Gradually, it closed the gap on the Ixidar and the clarity of the sensor feed improved commensurately.
“The lightspeed missiles would have brought it down eventually,” said Eastwood. “Look at those craters in the armour.”
“I think the Ixidar could have withstood plenty more impacts, Lieutenant,” said Recker. “If the Daklan were able to target the guns or their housings, maybe they’d have disabled it eventually. I don’t think they had a large enough fleet even before their losses at RETI-11.”
“I’m only trying to look on the bright side, sir.”
“The enemy warship is out of action, Lieutenant. It doesn’t get much brighter than that.”
“Distance to target – two thousand klicks,” said Montero lowering her eyebrows at one of the displays. “At least I think it’s two thousand.”
“We’re on track to our destination whatever the figures say, Corporal. Open a channel to the Gorgadar.”
“On it, sir.”
Montero leaned over the console and her forefinger wavered between three different buttons. Eventually, she pushed one with a sharp stabbing motion. Recker smiled and gave her a thumbs up.
“Lieutenant Burner, as you’re no doubt aware, we’re within shouting distance of the Ixidar,” he said.
“Yes, sir. I’m awaiting confirmation about where you’re meant to dock. I anticipate you’ll be required to hand over control to the Ixidar and you’ll be brought in on autopilot.”
A symbol appeared on Recker’s screen, flashed a couple of times and then changed to a new symbol. “It looks as if the Ixidar has bypassed the Gorgadar and sent the handover request directly to our shuttle.”
Recker touched the symbol. A line of text appeared on a separate screen and the control sticks went dead in his hands.
“I’ve linked to your navigational computer and I can see you’re under remote guidance,” said Burner.
“Keep me updated,” said Recker. He cut the channel. “The Ixidar is bringing us in,” he confirmed to the others.
“I’d best put my feet up,” said Montero. She wriggled herself comfortable. “Maybe catch some shuteye.”
“Like that’s going to happen,” said Eastwood. “I’ve forgotten what it feels like to rest my head on a pillow.”
Montero closed her eyes and smiled, as if she were imagining lying on a tropical beach somewhere a trillion miles away. “I can dream, huh?”
“The universe has enough dreamers,” said Eastwood, not unkindly. “It needs more tough kids just like you, Corporal.”
“It’s a long while since anyone called me kid,” said Montero, not opening her eyes.
“No offense meant.”
Montero opened one eye. “None taken, Lieutenant.” She opened the other eye, having decided she’d kept up the act long enough. “I’d best get back to learning how this alien tech works.” She gave the console’s base a non-too-gentle kick with the reinforced toe of her combat boot.
A voice made Recker turn and he found Sergeants Vance and Shadar waiting outside the open cockpit door.
“Come in.” Recker motioned with one hand.
“What will happen on the Ixidar, Captain Recker?” asked Shadar, cutting to the chase.
“Either the crew are still alive and have pulled the wool completely over my eyes, in which case I’ll be relying on you to hold off the enemy while we enact a withdrawal. Failing that, we’ll all be killed or captured and tortured,” said Recker. “Or the Lavorix are all dead and we’ll be unopposed in our journey to the bridge. Once there, Lieutenant Eastwood and I will attempt to bring some of the warship’s systems into an operational state. If we’re successful, our alliance will be in possession of the two most powerful spaceships in the Lavorix fleet.”
“Except for the Ancidium,” said Eastwood.
“Though we don’t know what the hell that is,” said Recker. “Anyway, that’s as far as the planning goes.”
“It’s a chance to make a difference,” said Shadar, nodding. “We are few, but our contribution will be valuable.”
“A mixture of fortune and bravery has brought us to the cutting edge,” said Recker. “And we’ll do what we can with the opportunity.”
The two soldiers left the bridge and Recker turned his attention to the sensor feeds. Montero was getting to grips with the hardware and had zoomed in on the visible face of the Ixidar. The level of detail was incredible and he marvelled at the contrast between the smooth unblemished plating and those areas which had suffered in the warship’s many recent engagements.
“Can’t see much in this particle beam hole,” said Montero, re-focusing and zooming the forward array.
“Ternium blocks and not much else,” said Eastwood. “The Ixidar’s likely got a higher propulsion output than the Gorgadar. Whether that equates to a higher maximum velocity, I couldn’t tell you for definite – I bet those disintegration cannons suck a lot of out the engines.”
“I’ve located the place we’re docking,” said Montero. “A section of the hull opened up beneath the facing gun housing.”
“Show me,” said Recker.
“Not much to see,” said Montero. “Here you go, sir.”
A square opening – tiny in comparison to the nearby edge of the gun housing – had appeared and it was dark inside, though the feed showed the lines of a tunnel heading through the armour. Doubtless the Ixidar’s shuttle docking systems were similar to those on the Gorgadar, and Recker wasn’t expecting any surprises.
“Less than five minutes at our current velocity and we’ll be docked,” said Montero.
“You’re doing a good job learning the hardware, Corporal.”
“As you said – the principles aren’t much different, sir.”
With the Ixidar controlling the shuttle’s flight, Recker didn’t have much to do. He checked in with his crew on the Gorgadar and they had nothing new to report. Other than that, Recker only needed to keep an eye on the feeds and the readouts on his console.
Soon, the Ixidar filled the screens in a seemingly endless expanse of dark grey metal. Despite Recker’s recent experiences with the Laws of Ancidium, he was in awe of the scale and he wondered if, elsewhere in the universe, a different species had created anything like these warships, or even surpassed them in size and mass. He couldn’t imagine it was possible.
You haven’t seen the Ancidium yet, mocked an inner voice. You’re trying not to think about it, but you know it’s going to be far worse than anything you’ve encountered so far in this shitty war.
“Getting ready to dock,” said Montero. “Distance to bay – fifty klicks.”
“I want the squad ready to move out,” said Recker.
“Yes, sir. I’ll make the Sergeant aware.” Seconds passed before Montero spoke again. “Thirty klicks to bay.”
Recker gave the controls a superstitious tug, confirming the Ixidar remained in control of the vessel. His trepidation was suddenly replaced by a much deeper unease.
Been in the crap before. This is nothing different.
The feeling didn’t go away. Instead, it intensified and his body started pumping adrenaline which added to the Frenziol and left him light-headed and his breathing shallow.
“Something wrong, sir?” Montero asked, watching him from the corner of her eye. She had Aston’s talent for picking up changes of mood.
“I’m just getting that feeling, Corporal.”
Montero knew how it was. “Yeah,” she said.
Recker forced a smile to his face, though he doubted it was convincing. “We’re in a shuttle heading towards that,” he said, indicating the Ixidar on the sensor feed. “There’s a lot riding on this.”
“I’ll check in with base.” Montero opened a channel to the Gorgadar and spoke briefly to Lieutenant Burner. Then, with a flourish, she closed the link. “Nothing to report, sir. Five klicks to the docking bay.”
“I’d best enjoy the final part of the ride,” said Recker, not taking his eyes off the feed.
“Funny how nothing works on the Ixidar but the auto-dock computer is still able to bring us in remotely,” said Montero.
“Stop looking for problems,” laughed Eastwood. “There’s likely an independent auto-dock system assigned to the individual docking bays. Don’t read too much into it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Recker’s sense of unease hadn’t gone anywhere and it gnawed at his guts. The potential causes were numerous and he told himself to stop thinking about what might go wrong.
This opportunity is worth the risk a hundred times over.
“Lieutenant Burner reminds us we’ll lose the comms link once we’re inside the Ixidar,” said Montero.
&n
bsp; “Same as always, Corporal.”
At the last moment, the Ixidar’s auto-dock computer rotated the shuttle 180 degrees about its vertical axis in order that it would go rear-first into the bay. The adjustments took only seconds and the shuttle entered the docking tunnel, with plenty of room spare. As soon as the transport was inside, the entrance door closed smoothly.
“That’s the comms link to the Gorgadar broken, sir.”
“Maybe it’s something we can fix later, Corporal. Once we’ve done some repairs to the Ixidar.”
A pair of inner doors opened behind them and the tunnel continued deep into the armour. Then came a third set of doors and, at last, the passage ended.
“Coming to the end of the road,” said Montero.
“Bad metaphor, Corporal,” said Recker, as the shuttle arrived at the docking place. With scarcely a thump it connected with the airlock and a light on his panel informed him the seal was made. His disquiet hadn’t left him, but it had been pushed to one side by a growing anticipation of what he might find within the Ixidar.
“I meant the shuttle, sir.”
“I know what you meant, Corporal.”
Montero grinned at him. “Death or salvation.”
“Not this time, Corporal. This time there’s only salvation.”
“I hope so, sir.”
Recker climbed from his seat and grabbed his gun. “Let’s get out of here and find out what we’re up against.”
Chapter Eight
Recker exited the cockpit and descended the steps outside. A short distance behind was Corporal Montero, with Lieutenant Eastwood huffing and puffing in last place.
Ignoring the side rooms, Recker entered the storage bay with the two mobile artillery guns. The squad was already gathered in the airlock and he joined them. A sharpness had cut through the stale odour of death and when Recker drew in the scent through his helmet filter, he wondered if he was only sensing the eagerness of the soldiers, rather than it being anything physical.
He looked around. Each soldier’s expression bore hallmarks of the same inner emotions, told differently. Private Drawl pretended nonchalance, while Private Steigers bared his pristine teeth like he was holding in an overdue crap. Different soldiers, the same fears and the same mental preparations for handling what was to come.
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