Nullifier (Fire and Rust Book 6)

by Anthony James

  A Hantisar – male or female, he didn’t know – lay across the exit, with what looked a steel bucket nearby. A few meters along the corridor, Conway saw a pile of desks, chairs and cabinets. A method was evident in their placement, though the Hantisar hadn’t successfully blocked the whole corridor.

  “Trying to shut out the heat,” said Barron.

  Two other Hantisar had died near the makeshift barrier. The current temperature was too high for the aliens to have come so close, meaning this happened shortly after the HVAC failure. Conway could imagine the pain of working under conditions like these.

  “This one was bringing water to cool the others,” said Kemp.

  “Yeah.”

  Conway took a deep breath and approached the barrier. The motley collection of equipment hadn’t saved the aliens from death, but it did keep out some of the heat. He could feel it coming through the gaps, setting off more alarms which flashed urgently on his HUD.

  When he was close enough, Conway peered through one of the gaps. The corridor ended a little way further in a small, square room. A black-clad cube sat on a plinth right in the center.

  “This is the place.”

  “We’d best get this crap moved,” said Kemp.

  “It’s going to be too hot,” said Torres.

  “Maybe.” Conway thought about it. “We’ll work in pairs – two of us pass stuff back from the barrier to another pair behind. When the heat gets too much, the next pair swaps in.”

  The method was easy and Conway set Hacher and Rembra as first pair doing the heaviest lifting. With grunts of effort on the open comms, the two Fangrin picked up cabinets and chairs, and hurled them into the flight control room, where Kemp and Torres pushed them further from the corridor. Meanwhile, the others stood away to stop their spacesuits from getting too hot.

  “Five hundred Fahrenheit at this blockage,” said Rembra. “I am surprised the flight control computer has not failed.”

  The Fangrin kept at it for another ten seconds before they were forced into a retreat. Their combat suits were a smoldering patchwork of browns.

  “The way is clear,” said Hacher.

  Conway had underestimated how much heavy lifting a couple of motivated Fangrin could achieve in a short time. He returned to the corridor and saw that Hacher had not exaggerated. Much of the blockage was now in the flight control room, with the larger pieces of furniture stacked against one wall of the passage. Several chairs littered the floor, but not enough to present an obstacle. The flight control computer was clearly visible.

  “Sergeant Lockhart, Corporal Barron, drop your guns, get in there and find that interface port.”

  The two soldiers laid down their weapons and dashed towards the far room, Lockhart kicking one of the chairs aside as he ran by. At the cube, they split and went separate ways around.

  “620 degrees,” said Lockhart.

  “My HUD tells me 640,” said Barron.

  “Find that interface.”

  “Got it,” said Barron.

  “Yes, it’s here,” said Lockhart. “We’re coming back.”

  They returned at the same speed as they’d left and sprinted away from the corridor to allow their suits to cool down. Neither looked in the same bad state as those of the Fangrin, but they hadn’t been exposed for so long.

  “I didn’t get any closer than I needed to,” said Lockhart. “The outer surface of the computer is about 850 Fahrenheit. There’s a single interface port on the opposite side, about one meter from the top of the support plinth. You can’t miss it – there’s this melted crap around it. Maybe a protective cover that burned away.”

  “What does the port look like?”

  “I got you an image, sir,” said Lockhart. “I’ll send it to your suit.”

  “And Freeman’s. He’s got the cables.”

  Conway accepted the file and loaded the image onto his HUD. The interface port was square and about half the size of his thumbnail according to the overlaid measurements.

  “Corporal Freeman?” asked Conway.

  “Just checking, sir.”

  Freeman tugged several different black-sheathed cables from one of his leg pockets. He studied the connectors on a couple and then shoved them away again, keeping two others in his hand.

  “One’s too small and I reckon the other’s too big.”

  “Will the small one connect?”

  “Probably, sir. You’d have to keep hold to stop it dropping out.”

  Conway swore. “The computer’s too hot.”

  “The repair tape for our combat suits would hold the cable in place,” said Kemp.

  “The adhesive would melt, Private.”

  “For sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “This cable’s only half a meter long anyways,” said Freeman. “One way or another, whoever does this is going to have to be in close.”

  “Give it here,” said Conway, holding out a hand.

  “I’ll go if you want, sir,” said Kemp.

  “I appreciate the offer, Private. This one, I’ll do myself.”

  Conway took the cable, put down his gauss rifle, unslung his Gilner and laid that down too.

  “Look after those,” he said. “And someone contact Captain Isental. Let him know we’re about to inject the security override codes.”

  With that done, Conway set off towards the passage, plugging one end of the cable into the port beneath his helmet. Once he got inside the corridor, he ran harder, letting the loose cable flap around. He skirted one of the overturned chairs and entered the room with the flight control computer. It seemed innocuous for something which held slave enough spaceships to lay waste to a solar system.

  A red alert appeared on his HUD and a soft chiming started in his earpiece. Conway ignored both and sprinted left around the computer housing. The floor was almost as hot as the air and the high-grip soles of his boots felt sticky, like they were melting.

  “Have you located the port?” asked Lieutenant Rembra.

  “Not yet.”

  Conway hadn’t been in the room for longer than a few seconds and the warmth was seeping into his flesh. Soon, his suit would be unable to cope and then he’d cook like a Thanksgiving turkey.

  The port was exactly where Lockhart described it and Conway stepped close, grabbing the end of the cable as he did so. Without hesitation, he pushed the connector into the interface port and found it was too small, as Freeman had said it would be. In addition, the cable was so short that Conway was forced to bring his head near to the control computer’s protective cladding and the radiating heat registered at 825 Fahrenheit. He held the cable in place and tested for a data connection.

  “Nothing,” he said angrily.

  A dark smoke began to rise from his combat suit and he caught the acrid scent of its burning polymers. Conway pulled out the cable, rotated the connector and pushed it into the port again. For a second time, his suit wouldn’t link and he drew out the cable.

  “Sir?” asked the calm voice of Sergeant Lockhart.

  “Not yet, Sergeant.”

  Conway shifted position and discovered that his feet were glued to the floor. With a wrench, he freed one foot and then the other. He inserted the cable at the same time as he lifted alternating feet to prevent them from sticking.

  Dancing like I did on Prom Night.

  “Another failure,” he said. “Getting hot.”

  Keeping his attention on the cable, Conway took a long drink from the straw inside his helmet. Using forefinger and thumb, he wiggled the cable in its socket, keeping one eye on the link light in his HUD. The smoke coming from his suit was thicker now. It was greasy and vile and left a dirty film across his visor.

  “Come on, sir,” said Lockhart.

  “Doing my best, Sergeant.”

  The heat in Conway’s suit was stifling and he breathed in deep, ragged gasps. Still the link wouldn’t form and he realized he’d left it too long.

  I should’ve cut and run by now.
<
br />   “I’m coming out,” he said.

  Conway was on the verge of making a run into the flight control room when the link light flickered briefly on his HUD. The override code file wasn’t huge, but it failed to download before the link dropped. With a curse, Conway moved the cable to the left of the port and the green light came on again and then went out when he shifted his foot to prevent it adhering to the floor.

  “Damn thing,” he said.

  The undersized connector required precision for the link to form. No matter how steady Conway held his fingers, the link failed the moment he lifted his feet. The suit medical computer warned him his body was dangerously overheated and the chime in his ear became louder, more urgent.

  Keeping both feet planted, Conway willed the link to form again. The light came on and the override file uploaded.

  “Done,” he mumbled.

  Conway tried to pull his feet from the floor, but suddenly his brain couldn’t figure out how to do it. He felt confused and turned his head, wondering what was happening. Panic didn’t come – in fact, Conway’s brain was too scrambled to feel much of anything.

  Before he could fall, a massive shape loomed in his periphery. With strong arms, it held him upright. Conway dimly felt the soles of his boots tearing from the floor and the shape threw him unceremoniously over its shoulder.

  Then, his drifting mind fell into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Captain Tanner Conway’s head ached, he was gripped by a deep-down nausea and he noticed a sharp, stabbing pain beneath his chin. Not only that, he was freezing cold and he was bouncing up and down like a sack of potatoes on the back of a lorry driving along a dirt track. Even so, he felt strangely wonderful, like none of the physical discomfort mattered. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a Fangrin backside, the specifics of which were fortunately hidden by the material of a combat suit. Elsewhere, stairs and a landing a short distance below.

  “Put me down,” he said.

  “He is awake,” said Lieutenant Rembra.

  “This is a relief,” said Hacher. “I would not have liked to carry him up so many stairs.”

  Hacher completed his ascent to the next landing and then stooped. Hands assisted Conway in getting off the Fangrin’s shoulder and held him upright. He tested his balance and would have fallen sideways were it not for the assistance of others.

  “Steady.” It was Corporal Brice. She peered into his eyes. “I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’ve filled you with so many drugs you’ll be high as a kite.” Without warning, Brice reached up and pulled an injector from the port beneath Conway’s chin. “I think you’ve had enough now.”

  “I’m cold,” said Conway.

  “Your combat suit detected heatstroke and now we’re away from the control computer it’s able to keep you cool. Can’t you hear the motor?”

  Conway listened and now that his attention was brought to it, he could indeed hear the whirring at the back of his helmet.

  “We must leave,” said Lieutenant Rembra.

  “I injected the override codes,” said Conway. “Did you let Captain Isental know?”

  “He is not responding to the comms.”

  “We’re too deep underground here, sir,” Freeman reminded him. “The tharniol casing would normally block a signal completely, so we’re relying on that little cannon hole for the comms to pass through.”

  “I know that,” Conway said, pulling away from the supporting hands. He swayed once and then his reflexes kicked in, steadying him. A glance at his suit told him what a bad state it was in – the material on his chest plate was so dark that it might as well have been black. Silver tape crisscrossed one of his arms, with more on both shoulders.

  “The material looked as if it was about to split,” said Brice, seeing his attention. “So we patched it up.”

  “There’s no reported breach on the HUD.” Conway looked again at his damaged suit. “Thanks.”

  “No worries, sir. Private Torres has your guns. Think you can keep up?”

  Conway beckoned Torres and she handed over his Gilner and the Hantisar gauss rifle.

  “Thought you’d be pissed if we forgot these,” she smiled.

  “I trust you,” Conway replied, taking the guns. He raised his voice. “Everyone wait up. I’ll try the comms boosters before we hit the stairs.”

  The boosters had served Conway well. They added weight to his suit, but it was a price worth paying. Usually.

  “No receptor,” he said.

  “What about the Nullifier?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Damn, what now?” asked Corporal Barron.

  “Up to the surface and try again.” Conway stared up the next flight. “Lots of rock, steel and tharniol between us and rescue. Maybe too much for the boosters. Now let’s go.”

  Conway knew he could be a stubborn bastard, but he prided himself on not being completely stupid. Since he wasn’t yet certain on his feet, he let Lieutenant Rembra lead.

  “Need a hand, sir?” asked Lockhart.

  “Much appreciated, Sergeant.”

  It turned out the ULAF’s medical technology was good enough to keep Conway on his feet. The first two flights were uncertain, but he soon felt like he was keeping up. At the halfway point, Conway was pushing towards the front.

  “Corporal Brice, can I have some of what you gave the Captain?” asked Kemp, panting for breath.

  “He’ll feel like shit for a week once it wears off. You sure you want a go?”

  “Maybe I’ll pass.”

  “I think it’s for the best.”

  They emerged from the stairwell and Conway called a brief halt for the squad to catch their breaths. He was breathing heavily as well and his heart rate was elevated. The head pressure had made an unwelcome return and a few of the soldiers complained about it.

  “I’ll try Captain Isental again,” Conway said, examining the tape covering his suit. It was only meant for field repairs - to prevent exposure to a vacuum – and Conway didn’t want it peeling off.

  The shuttle’s receptor was grey, however the Nullifier was showing green. Conway requested, and got, a channel.

  “Where’s our transport?” he asked.

  “Captain Isental has flown five hundred klicks south,” said Lieutenant Kenyon. “Reckoned he was getting too much attention from the Sekar on the ground. Your comms might not connect.”

  “The Nullifier’s can, right?”

  “Yes. Did you inject the code?”

  “I uploaded the file. Can you confirm it’s done what we require?”

  “I’ve signaled to Captain Griffin – he’ll need to speak with the Nullifier’s control entity. Are you ready for extraction?”

  “Almost.”

  “I’ll contact Captain Isental. Assume the pickup will happen in the same place as the drop unless you hear otherwise.”

  “Will do.”

  With that, the channel went dead and Conway explained the situation to the others.

  “Should we wait until we hear from Captain Isental?” asked Barron.

  “Let’s take a look at the cannon hole in the outer casing,” said Conway. “I want to make sure we’ve got a clear path out of here.”

  He led the way to the entrance room. The head pressure got worse and the cause was soon found – the exit was completely blocked by darkness, blocking out the sun and suppressing the light from the helmet torches.

  “Sekar,” said Conway angrily. “Like it’s trying to get inside.”

  “Look what’s happened to those walls around the cannon hole,” said Barron.

  The walls were visibly bowed and as Conway watched, he saw them flex inwards, recede and then flex again. Without air to carry the sound, it happened in complete silence.

  “It’s trying to get inside,” said Conway. “The Sekar can’t break through tharniol, but the outer wall is covered in stone so it’s got something to push against.”

  Kemp raised his gauss rifle
and peered through the scope. “Can I shoot it, sir?”

  “It’s going to require a lot of bullets,” said Torres. “Like a real lot of bullets.”

  “If we kill this one, others may come,” said Rembra.

  “I guess the entire facility knows we’re here, Lieutenant.”

  Conway called up the Nullifier’s map. The flight control building had several exits, but all bar this one would lead directly into the trench created by the dark cannon.

  “We could get into the pit,” he said. “Trouble is, I don’t think there’s an easy way out of there and I’m sure the Sekar could walk right through the rock to get to us.”

  “Captain Isental’s a hotshot pilot,” said Kemp. “Maybe he could land.”

  “I don’t think he’ll risk it and I wouldn’t blame him.”

  At that moment, the shuttle’s comms light turned green and Conway requested a channel.

  “I am inbound,” said Isental. “Please return to the drop point. Do not delay – I will not be able to land for more than a few seconds.”

  “I take it there’s plenty of surface activity?”

  “Yes, human. The Sekar are many.”

  “We’ve got one of them blocking our exit. We’ll have to shoot a way through.”

  “Do it soon.”

  Isental cut the channel, but not before he’d activated a countdown timer on Conway’s comms unit.

  “Five minutes. Shit.” Conway raised his voice and pointed at the Sekar blocking the exit. “All right people, we’re getting out of here and we’re going straight through that.”

  “Does that mean I can shoot it now?” asked Kemp.

  “Be my guest.”

  Kemp lifted the Hantisar gauss rifle once more. Before he was able to fire, a split appeared in the outer casing. It began at the cannon hole and spread rapidly along the wall.

  “Kill it!”

  Aiming required hardly any effort and Conway fired his gauss rifle into the exposed part of the Sekar. He took one hand off the barrel and gestured the others into position. The squad didn’t require much in the way of direction – they spread into a semi-circle approximately ten meters from the cannon hole and poured bullets into the Sekar, some having to shoot over the broken Hantisar control stations.