Recker's Chance

by Anthony James

  Last man Eastwood closed the inner airlock door and Sergeant Vance touched the panel for the outer one.

  “Cold outside, but the air’s breathable,” Vance said. “Got the same Lavorix stink as the Gorgadar.”

  A wide passage suitable for loading supplies lay beyond the airlock door, at the end of which was a second door. Vance strode forward and touched the far access panel, revealing a large space lit in blue.

  “Clear, unless the Lavorix in here are only pretending to be dead.”

  The discovery of enemy corpses was a good start and the tension lessened noticeably.

  “Put a bullet in one, Sergeant,” Steigers suggested. “It’s the only way to be sure.”

  “I’ll save my ammo,” said Vance, stepping out of the passage.

  The squad advanced and Recker with them. He entered an eighty-metre room with a high ceiling and several exits. His view was partly obscured by the array of gravity-engined repeaters, wide-bore gauss guns and compact missile launchers the Lavorix had left in here. Six or seven dead aliens lay on the floor and Vance was crouched over the nearest.

  “Looks like it got hit by an Extractor at the same time as its balls were being squeezed in a vice,” he said.

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re planning to hold a minute’s silence, Sergeant,” said Private Gantry.

  “I’d rather open its visor and take a piss in its helmet.” Vance stood again and gave the corpse a hard push with his foot.

  While this was happening, Recker listened for the sounds of the Ixidar. All he heard was the low, insistent humming of the artillery gravity motors. Other than that, there was nothing – not even a creak of stressed alloy.

  “The propulsion’s offline,” he said.

  “I do not know warships as well as others, but that is not a good sign,” said Shadar.

  “The Ixidar believes we can manually re-route around the failed hardware,” said Recker. “Let’s find the bridge.”

  The soldiers left him to decide on the best exit from the room, not that Recker had any idea where he was going. He resorted to assumption and guesswork. It was unlikely the Ixidar’s bridge was anywhere near the outer plating. Rather, it would be central, which didn’t narrow things down too much.

  “We’re going this way,” said Recker, indicating the door opposite the entrance passage. “And no I don’t have directions to the bridge, so keep an eye out for a console that might give us access to a map.”

  The opposite door was oversized and it opened at Recker’s command. The next passage stretched into the distance and the sensor in his helmet estimated the end door to be four hundred metres away.

  “No side exits,” said Vance. “A straight run to the end.”

  “Let’s get it done,” said Recker.

  He set off at a fast pace, his feet making little sound on the solid floor. A couple of dead Lavorix lay across his path and he jumped over them, making no effort to look at their expressions. He’d seen enough pain to last a lifetime, even on the faces of his enemy.

  When he arrived at the far door, Recker’s heart rate was elevated and his muscles were burning from the exercise. It felt good, like he was once again in touch with his body, rather than being slightly detached because of the boosters and – until recently – the effects of the death sphere.

  “There’s got to be an internal shuttle somewhere close by,” said Drawl, who had more about him than he let on. “Wouldn’t make sense if the crew had to run ten klicks every time they wanted to take a dump in one of the bay toilets.”

  The last of the soldiers arrived and the squad pressed themselves into the walls, not that they would offer much protection if any shooting started. Briefly, Recker worried himself about the possibility of automated defences. He reminded himself the Aeklu, Verumol and the Gorgadar had none and he hoped the Ixidar wasn’t an exception to the rule.

  “Be ready,” Recker said, brushing his fingertips over the access panel.

  Once again, the door opened without a problem and on the far side were steps heading a long way up, without any sign of a switchback or side doors.

  “Maybe we should go back and try a different way,” said Lieutenant Eastwood, gazing at the stairs without relish.

  “We’re climbing,” said Recker, starting up. Inwardly, he was cursing since the early signs were he’d chosen his route badly back in the first room. Long ago he’d learned that second guessing rarely turned out well and it was generally best to commit to an action and then stick with it. The trick was recognizing when it really was time to accept defeat and that was something Recker had never mastered.

  I’ve come this far without dying, so I must be doing something right.

  The thought didn’t make him smile and he pressed on. Each step had a higher riser than he was accustomed to and the treads were shallow. In combination, it made the ascent a pain in the ass and several members of the squad voiced their opinions on the matter.

  At the top was a metre-deep landing, where Recker turned to check on the progress of the others. Suddenly he was struck by how steep the stairs were and he fidgeted in case anyone screwed up and fell.

  “You’ve got one minute to catch your breaths,” said Recker, reluctant to be even this generous.

  “You’re all heart, sir,” panted Drawl.

  The squad sat or leaned and the comparative lack of crap talk on the open channel indicated they were glad of the chance for a breather.

  “Sixty seconds is up – it’s time to move,” said Recker, when fifty seconds had elapsed.

  He readied his gauss rifle and activated the nearby panel. The door opened into another space and a gentle breeze of shifting air rustled by, along with a feeling of something else – a feeling of bone-deep dread he didn’t like one bit.

  “What the hell?” muttered Enfield from a few steps down.

  “Wait there,” said Recker, raising his hand to reinforce the hold order.

  He stepped through the doorway onto a two-metre walkway which ran around the perimeter of a fifteen-metre-wide shaft. Running vertically up the shaft was a black cylinder with a five-metre diameter, which made him think of a pipe or a conduit.

  It was dark in here, in a way that reminded him of the death sphere, though the physical reaction from his body was different in a way he couldn’t pinpoint. He looked up into the gloom and couldn’t see where the shaft or the conduit ended. The walkway had no guard rail and he peered cautiously over the edge, where he found himself gazing into the depths.

  “What is it, sir?” asked Vance.

  “I’m not sure…” Recker began. He stared at the conduit and felt a great disquiet. “I think this connects the Extractor to the batteries.”

  Nobody offered an alternative suggestion and Recker didn’t know if he was even close to stumbling upon the truth. Perhaps the extracted life energy was banal like pure water once it was drawn from its host, and impossible to feel in the way Recker was feeling right now. He doubted it – the Lavorix were the closest thing to evil he’d encountered and everything they touched was turned to filth.

  He shook his head clear and advanced left along the walkway and spotted an exit leading from the opposite wall.

  “Come on,” Recker said. “There’s a way out through here.”

  Suddenly unwilling to remain a moment longer than necessary he hurried around the room’s edge, keeping his shoulder to the wall - not for fear of tumbling over the edge, more to stay as far from the conduit as possible.

  Without delay, he opened the exit door and peered carefully through the opening. “More steps going up,” he muttered. “Same number as before.”

  The announcement was greeted with a predictable array of cursing, though most of it was half-hearted, since climbing stairs was infinitely preferable to being shot in the head, extracted, or listening to one of Private Drawl’s jokes.

  Setting off quickly, Recker leaned into the slope and concentrated on reaching the top. The Frenziol’s false energy was combatted by wee
ks of running on the edge. His body had suffered enough and it couldn’t keep going forever.

  “Move your asses,” he snarled from the upper landing.

  Recker wanted to open the door and press on, but years of discipline insisted he wait for his squad. They weren’t far behind, though Gantry and Zivor were struggling under the additional weight of their repeater packs.

  The door opened into a room which had left and right exits, and was large enough to accommodate every soldier. What got Recker’s attention was the screen and keypad mounted to the opposite wall. He dashed across to it and touched a random key to bring the unit out of sleep. After a couple of seconds, the screen lit up and Recker was confronted by a menu.

  “Can you enter your command codes here, sir?” asked Lieutenant Eastwood.

  “I don’t think so,” said Recker, scanning the options. “But this is a maintenance console, which means I should be able to bring up a location map.” He selected from the menu. “Here we go.”

  A wire-frame map of the Ixidar appeared on the screen and below it were numerous sub-menus from which Recker could choose the different locations within the spaceship. He selected the bridge and a tiny square became highlighted in red, with the maintenance station being an orange square. Thousands of metres separated the two.

  “The bridge is dead centre,” said Eastwood in disgust.

  Recker didn’t lose heart and he dug through the menu system until he found what he was looking for. A red line appeared on the map, linking the squad’s current location with the bridge.

  “We’re not far from one of the internal shuttles,” said Recker. He traced the route with a fingertip. “This one here travels diagonally upwards and ends about a hundred metres from the bridge.”

  “Which way to the shuttle?” said Vance, watching from nearby.

  “Along this way,” said Recker pointing to the left-hand exit. “Let’s get moving.”

  He headed for the door, not dwelling on the much quicker route he’d spotted that led directly via internal shuttle from a place near the docking bay. Had Recker guessed better at the outset, the journey would have been completed many minutes sooner. He gritted his teeth and hoped the difference wouldn’t turn out to be significant.

  A few dozen dead Lavorix had fallen in the next corridor and Recker let his foot thud into the first one, pretending it was a misstep so that the squad wouldn’t know it was a result of his irritation. Some of that irritation slipped away when he found the entrance to the internal shuttle not far from the maintenance station.

  Soon, the squad were in a square shuttle car heading towards the centre of the Ixidar. Windows front and back allowed visibility along the steeply sloping tunnel through which the car was drawn by gravity motors. The whole setup made Recker think of an old cable car - a few of which still ran on Earth - except the Lavorix had stirred in enough technology to make everything faster and more efficient, if lacking in the charm.

  Accompanying the squad on their journey were approximately a hundred Lavorix soldiers, once alive, but now killed in an agonising fashion by the Gorgadar’s death sphere. Sergeant Shadar stooped to examine a slender-barrelled rifle which had caught his eye on the floor. He stood after a moment and left the weapon next to its former owner.

  The car arrived at its destination, though the shaft continued onwards into the distance. Recker opened the door and the squad exited into another of the spaceship’s wide passages. Dead Lavorix covered the floor and Recker strode amongst them.

  He suddenly noticed that not one of the aliens wore a different colour, nor a different type of clothing. Each was identically dressed with no insignia or distinguishing features, and Recker wondered if they had any formal officer structure and if not, how they worked so well together. It was difficult to learn anything useful about an enemy as deadly and uncommunicative as the Lavorix.

  Not far from the internal shuttle, Recker located steps and he ascended. The blast door protecting the bridge was closed, though an interface port on the access panel allowed him to send across the codes which were originally extracted from the Aeklu’s control core. A moment later the door opened, allowing Recker and his squad onto the Ixidar’s bridge.

  Chapter Nine

  “Secure the area,” Recker ordered as he walked along the central aisle towards the command console situated at the front of the bridge. A Lavorix corpse had fallen sideways from its seat and it partly blocked his way. “On second thoughts, clear this crap out first and then secure the area.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Vance. He and Shadar snapped out quick commands to the soldiers, ordering them to drag the bodies out and throw them down the steps.

  “Lieutenant Eastwood – pick a station and get ready,” said Recker. He turned and levelled a finger at his next target. “Corporal Montero, you’re excused from corpse duty. This second console next to the command station should have full access to comms and sensors. Park yourself in front of it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Recker wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and he hauled the Ixidar’s previous captain out of his chair and dumped him on the floor nearby. Maybe it was a female, he briefly reflected, though he wasn’t planning to go rummaging around just to find out if it was hiding a cock and two balls anywhere within its spacesuit.

  “Sir, my console is online and I’m waiting for you to give me access,” said Eastwood.

  “I’m on it, Lieutenant.”

  Noting that the grey covering on his seat wasn’t aged like the one on the Gorgadar, Recker dropped himself into place. A moment later, he’d linked to the interface port and injected a code from the software in his suit computer. The code was accepted immediately and his central console screen brought up a top-level command menu.

  “You should have access, Lieutenant Eastwood,” Recker said shortly after. “You too, Corporal.”

  “What exactly am I doing, sir?” asked Montero.

  “Bringing the sensors online and attempting contact with the Gorgadar,” said Recker. “First, you’ll have to wait until Lieutenant Eastwood and I have done some repairs, but you can use the time making yourself familiar with that console.”

  “Yes, sir.” Montero stared at the console for a few seconds and Recker wondered if she was too far out of her depth. Then, she began confidently pushing buttons and he gave an inward sigh of relief.

  “I’m into the maintenance system, sir,” said Eastwood. “How do you want me to approach this?”

  “Are you able to determine what can be fixed without actually fixing anything?” asked Recker.

  “Probably, but that’s adding an extra layer on the cake. What are you concerned about, sir? That might help me give you a better answer.”

  “We’re invaders, Lieutenant, and we don’t know if the Ixidar’s control computer is programmed to think for itself. If it only validates the command codes, we have nothing to worry about. However if we unknowingly perform an action that makes it suspicious, then it may decide we shouldn’t be here and might attempt to disable our access to anything we’ve brought back online. Even worse would be if that control computer decided to send details of our presence to the Ancidium via the comms system we just repaired for it.”

  “I hear you loud and clear, sir,” said Eastwood. “I’d guess the entity you conversed with on the Gorgadar is no more than a node on the main control system. If the Ixidar was built anything like the Aeklu, I should be able to cut that part out of the loop and leave it stewing in its own piss on an isolated array somewhere.”

  “Once we reconnect those arrays,” said Recker.

  “There’s always storage, sir. Every processing unit and every hardware module has plenty of it, normally used for transient data. In this case, I may be able to put that storage to better use.”

  “Stewing in its own piss?” asked Montero, feigning puzzlement. “Is that the technical term? And why can’t you delete the entity files instead of isolating them?”

  “The young are always full of
questions,” Eastwood observed.

  “And the old are always full of answers,” Montero shot back.

  Sensing that Eastwood was about to launch into a full-scale technical explanation of the Ixidar’s hardware setup, Recker stepped in.

  “Let’s focus on what we’re doing, folks. Corporal Montero, if you want to learn about propulsion, Lieutenant Eastwood’s always got time when he’s back on base.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said.

  It was difficult to get angry around Montero and Recker didn’t even pretend. “Where there’s age, there’s wisdom, Corporal.”

  Montero couldn’t completely hide her grin and she lowered her head in a failed attempt to prevent Recker seeing it.

  “Any luck with that console?” he asked.

  “I have no access to the sensors or the external comms, sir,” Montero said. “The internal comms, however, are working fine.”

  “Stay off those comms until I confirm they’re safe,” said Recker. “Use your suit comms and remind the squad to stay within range of the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Through recent experience, Recker was becoming competent with the Lavorix hardware and control software and he descended through the sub-menus until he located the list of maintenance and auditing options. This time, he knew he was out of his depth. On an HPA warship – maybe even on a Meklon one – he could muddle his way through the list of codes and decide which ones indicated a fault. Here on the Ixidar, he was stuck.

  “I don’t know if I can help with this, Lieutenant Eastwood.”

  “That’s fine, sir. I’m making progress.”

  Having no input was frustrating and Recker considered helping shift some of the dead bodies. Even that idea came to nothing – Sergeant Shadar appeared next to the command console and grabbed the enemy captain’s wrist.