Armada

by Paul Teague

  Hunter looked ahead. “There’s another body further along the corridor. We have to consider the possibility that these things may be elsewhere on the ship.”

  “We’ve had no further reports,” said Stansfield, “and nothing’s shown up in the areas where the internal cameras are still working. We believe the perimeter is secure. Let’s find out what we’ve been baking down there.”

  “On my signal, we move in,” said Kearney. “Stay tight, don’t get killed.”

  Mason nodded, mostly hidden in the shadows; then Kearney gave the signal and the door slid open. She and Hunter took left and right, moving directly for the cover of two control units. Light from the open lids of the cloning pods made the room brighter than the corridor, but that just meant there were more shadows.

  “Best light we’ve had for hours,” muttered Mason. Behind him the doors slid closed, leaving the three troopers alone in the bay.

  Hunter was intent on something. “I can see heat signatures all around this area, but only one looks human.”

  “I’m not seeing anything on my HUD,” said Kearney, frowning over her rifle as she panned the room. “How are you doing that?”

  “I’ve got some more advanced kit built into my eye socket. It’s nano-tech, much more effective than that crap Sol gives you.”

  Mason and Kearney exchanged doubtful glances.

  “Are you serious?” said Mason.

  “Sure,” said Hunter. “Worth its weight in gold.”

  “I might try and get me a robo-refit one of these days,” mused Kearney.

  “You might want to reconsider that lifestyle choice, Kearney. This kit is neat, but you’ve seen how Sol responded. I get to spend my life as a Penal Marine, or they kill me. Either way, I’m a dead man walking.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” said Kearney with a shudder. Then she shook her head. “Just tell me what’s fucking out there.”

  The cloning bay was the size of a small hangar. It was lined with banks of pods and electrical equipment. Stansfield had got the Colossus crew to install the kit they’d delivered, but there hadn’t been time to deploy clones before the battle with the Firewall Sphere had begun. Being an older ship, Vengeance had needed more retrofitting to handle the data required for cloning, work that went beyond the quick fix Davies had rigged up.

  “Something’s moving,” said Hunter, staring across the bay.

  There was a roar from either side of the hangar, deep and menacing in the shadows. Then two heavy, dark objects charged out of the gloom, screeching like wild animals.

  “Fuck,” said Kearney. “Who let the dogs out? Look at the speed of those things. Mason, incoming!”

  Mason spun around as Hunter and Kearney opened fire. The crack of Kearney’s rifle drowned out the near-silent hum of Hunter’s arm-mounted laser, but the effects were clear. Both creatures collapsed to the floor, but their speed was so great they continued to slide towards Mason, who braced himself for the impact. He was slammed against the door by one of the huge bodies, pinned there with his feet off the ground.

  “Good doggie,” he murmured, reaching out to pat the ruined remains of the monster’s head. “This thing stinks. I’m gonna need your help to get it off me, I’m completely trapped.”

  Kearney stepped closer to the corpse and began to sling her rifle. Then there was a growl in the shadows and she froze, staring briefly at Mason before she spun round to face whatever was out there.

  “I see traces of at least eleven more of those creatures,” said Hunter. “They’re all over the place.”

  “What do you see? We’re getting poor-quality images from your HUDs.” Stansfield’s voice was heavy with impatience and frustration.

  “It’s biological, whatever it is,” said Mason, struggling to catch a full breath. “You should see the teeth in this thing. Its mouth has been half blown off by Hunter’s shot, but it has a ferocious jaw. That thing could take off a limb.”

  “They’re fast, too,” said Kearney. “Imagine something heavy and wild like a bear running at you. That’s what it’s like.”

  “Are they human, mechanical, or something else?” Stansfield asked.

  “More human than anything,” said Mason. “They have legs, arms, a head, a jaw. I’m trying to get a good look, but I don’t see eyes or a nose. They’re like some half-formed or deformed clone. The best way I can describe them is that it’s like they’re unborn, premature. Like they came out too early, or maybe the cloning process got screwed with.”

  “I count twenty of those things in here with us,” said Hunter, “including the two dead ones. Twenty. That’s the number of OctoBots that merged in the vent. Remember Mason said they were all hooked into the conduit cabling? What if they sabotaged twenty of the pods and this is what came out? We interrupted them halfway through whatever it was they were doing, and this is the half-baked result.”

  “The numbers are compelling,” said Stansfield. “It’s too much of a coincidence. The Unborn theory makes sense too.”

  “There are things moving in the shadows,” said Kearney. “We need to go.”

  “I’ve got movement,” said Hunter. “They’re heading for the doors and whoever it is over the far side of the bay.”

  8

  “It’s got to be Commander Vernon,” said Stansfield.

  “Well, he’s completely outnumbered if it is,” said Hunter. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe ... towards which person will I go?”

  “You go for the officer,” Mason chided. “I’ll figure my own way out of this little dilemma. You and Kearney see if that’s Vernon, and get his arse out of there.”

  “You sure?” said Kearney doubtfully, although she knew the answer already. Commander Vernon came first. All life wasn’t equal on a battlefield.

  Mason nodded, peering out from his helmet. “Lend me a blade, though. Can’t reach mine.”

  Kearney tossed him her knife. “Good luck.”

  “Okay, Kearney, we need to spread out wide, circle in on them from behind. Ready?”

  Kearney nodded and readied her weapon. She’d fired on the beasts when they’d charged at Mason, but she had no idea if her shots had had any effect. Hunter had got straight in there with his magic robo-arm and taken them down, a single shot to each.

  “Lights on in two minutes,” said Yau over the shared channel. “Maintenance team has found the problem and are just about to flick the switch.”

  Hunter and Kearney moved out wide, making hand gestures to each other across the bay until they both found cover.

  “The objective is to get Vernon out, not kill the beasties,” said Kearney. “You provide the cover and distraction, I’ll find Vernon.”

  “Go now or they’ll be right on him,” said Hunter. “I can’t believe they haven’t found him yet.”

  He monitored the movement across the bay. There was a single human crouched behind a pod – Commander Vernon, probably – but a dozen or more other shapes were circling close around him.

  “Vernon must have nerves of steel,” muttered Hunter as he watched.

  “I’m ready,” said Kearney. “Moving now.”

  Hunter opened fire on the closest of the Unborn, both with his handgun and with the microwave laser in his cybernetic arm. The effect was immediate. From around the bay, the Unborn roared and scattered, some taking cover and others charging towards Hunter.

  Kearney, weapon at the ready, ran towards the pod where Vernon was concealed and slid down into cover beside him.

  “Are you alright, sir?” she asked, peering out to watch as the Unborn disappeared into the shadows.

  “Throw away your guns, that’s how they find you,” hissed Vernon. He was holding his arm, his uniform was torn and bloody, and it looked like he’d lost his HUD.

  “Are you wounded, sir?”

  “It’s just a tear, it’ll stitch. But the guns,” hissed Vernon, “they can sense them firing, somehow. Warn the others.”

  “Hunter, did you get that? The commander is safe, but he sa
ys the Unborn can sense gunfire.”

  “They hear gunfire and they’re drawn to it?” asked Hunter, but Vernon shook his head.

  “They’re deaf,” said the commander, calling across the bay. “But somehow they sense the discharges from our weapons.”

  “Fuck,” said Hunter. “The pistol wasn’t stopping them anyway. I’ve put two more down with the m-laser, but now I’m out of power.”

  There was a hum, and suddenly the lamps came back on. For a moment their eyes reeled from the brightness, having adjusted to the semi-dark of the emergency back-ups.

  “Shit,” said Hunter as he stared around. He’d known they were there, but it felt unnatural to be surrounded by enemies, even if they didn’t seem to know where he was.

  “Keep still,” said Kearney, “you’re surrounded.”

  “Yeah, I’d noticed.”

  “It’s okay, I think they’re blind as well as deaf,” said Vernon.

  “Damn, these things are ugly,” said Hunter. He stood perfectly still, relieved that the sound of his voice didn’t draw any attention but not liking the way the Unborn were thrashing around. Their long limbs swept back and forth, as if groping the air for something.

  “I think they’re hunting me,” he said quietly, backing away.

  “What are you looking at?” came Stansfield’s voice.

  “They’re like half-formed humans, sir,” said Hunter. “Nasty ones, just blobs of flesh with long legs and arms. No eyes, no ears, no nose, but a terrible set of teeth. Can’t tell if they’re male or female. Unborn is the perfect description; they’re alive, but they’re not all there. I reckon I might’ve dated one of them.”

  “Any sign of intelligence?” asked Stansfield, eager to assess the risk to the ship.

  “They’re pretty fucking savage,” murmured Hunter as he moved past a bank of equipment, “but it doesn’t look like the OctoBots managed to move their brains over. I wonder if that was what they were doing–trying to inhabit human forms?”

  “The Mechs we fought in the landing bay were harvesting body parts,” said Mason. “It’s like they’re hungry for flesh. Not to eat it, but to inhabit it. It’s spooky as hell, if you ask me.”

  “I need to speak to Commander Vernon,” said Stansfield.

  “Sir,” said Kearney, switching her HUD to public mode. “Go ahead.”

  “Pleased you made it, Ed,” said Stansfield. “What’s your assessment? Bearing in mind what we know.”

  Vernon nodded, but Kearney frowned, having no idea what Stansfield was referring to.

  “Hunter’s right, they’re after human bodies or spare parts. These things–Unborn or abominations, whatever they are–they’re cloning gone wrong. Taylor was the expert. We’ll need help from the Admiralty if we can’t re-deploy him, but I’d say these were half-baked clones. I have no idea where the teeth came from, unless the Bots were messing with the sequencing, trying to manipulate the cloning protocols.”

  “Manipulate the cloning protocols?” said Stansfield. “This just keeps getting better. Are you certain it’s the weapons that draw them?”

  “Yes, sir. It might be the Sol enabler units that are fitted in each device. I can’t think how else they’d be able to detect anything, but whatever it is, it drives them berserk.”

  “Maybe that means they can sense my arm,” said Hunter, trying to work out how he was getting out of his current position without walking directly into the path of one of the Unborn.

  “Steady, Hunter,” warned Stansfield.

  “Don’t do anything reckless,” said Vernon from across the bay.

  There was a tense pause.

  “Seems they can’t detect my arm,” said Hunter smugly. “Guess that’s why they didn’t run for me when I fired at those two ugly mugs in the entrance. They must have locked onto the handgun when I was giving cover to Kearney. Hey, Mason, are you still stuck?”

  “Yeah, it’s not all fun and games,” said Mason. The squelching sounds of a knife cutting bloody flesh floated across the bay.

  “Are you actually cutting your way out of there?” asked Kearney with a disgusted tone.

  “Yup! Remind me never to carve the Sunday roast ever again. These things are disgusting. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  “We need to lock the Unborn in here,” said Vernon as he and Kearney edged towards Mason and the door. “They have to be contained. If they break out into the ship, they’ll cause untold damage.”

  “Agreed,” said Stansfield. “Can you get yourselves out of the cloning bay and lock them in? What’s going on with the other clones we’re growing? Are they alright still?”

  “It’s difficult to tell, sir,” said Kearney, half crouching to get a better look at the pod she was hiding behind. “The lids are still down and the lights are on, I’m just not certain anyone is home.”

  “I’ve cut myself out,” said Mason, a note of triumph in his voice. “I’m covered in blood and flesh, no need to tell me how nice I look next time you see me.”

  “So what’s the plan?” asked Hunter, ignoring Mason. “Bearing in mind I’m standing here in the middle of these butt-ugly Unborn bastards, and not one of them has discovered mouth mints or breath freshener. They remind me of Ten!”

  “What have you got hidden in that arm of yours?” asked Kearney.

  “Microwave laser’s the only ranged weapon, but it’s a power-hungry bitch and I’m out. There’s a blade, and a short-range mono-filament blaster if you’ve got the ammo, but that’s about it.”

  “We weren’t asking for a copy your arm’s specs,” interrupted Stansfield, angry and impatient.

  “Apologies, Admiral. In short, I’ve got nothing. I’m a bit trapped here. I’m tempted to use a knife, try to take down as many as we can.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” said Mason.

  “No,” said Kearney sharply. “They’re fast and dangerous, but they’re dumb. We lock them in, formulate a plan, then come back and kill the lot of them.”

  “Seconded,” said Vernon. “Everybody out, converge on Mason’s position.”

  “Is that the best solution?” asked Stansfield.

  “I had fifteen minutes to watch these things, sir,” replied Vernon. “You won’t believe the speed they move when they get a scent. One of them ripped Taylor’s head straight off, like it was tearing the corner off a piece of paper...”

  “Admiral, we have a problem.” Yau’s voice could be heard in the background, picked up by Stansfield’s comms unit.

  “One moment. Can you make this work, Ed?”

  “I don’t see there’s any other choice, sir.”

  “Our teams are standing by in the corridor, sir,” said Kearney. “These things are nasty, but against armoured Marines? No contest.”

  There was a pause in the discussion as Stansfield held a rapid argument with Lieutenant Yau, whose desire to interrupt seemed, to Kearney, to border on the suicidal.

  But there was no mistaking Stansfield’s tone a few moments later.

  “We have another problem. Vernon, get up here immediately. Charlie Team, clear that bay. I want the cloning suite under our control and fully operational in an hour. Out.”

  “Admiral?” said Vernon, astonishment on his face. There was no reply. “He’s cut the channel,” he said, bewildered and a little discomfited.

  “We’d better get you to the bridge, sir,” said Kearney. “Then we can start cleaning up this mess.”

  9

  In his entire career in charge of a battleship, Stansfield had never missed a beat when it came to making a decision or choosing a course of action. But when he saw what was on the screen, he needed a few seconds before he could begin to comprehend its sheer scale.

  “Distance, Mr Henry?” he asked after a few moments. The bridge crew were looking to him for a response.

  “Just over a hundred and thirty light minutes, sir. They’re heading in this direction and to this point in space. They’re moving fast, too.”

  “If any
of those battleships have weapons like the ones on the Sphere...” said Stansfield before falling silent. He shuddered at the thought of super-powered enemy battleships.

  “I don’t think they can have, sir,” said Lieutenant Yau. “The records Hunter exfiltrated suggest the ship-killing weapon system on the Sphere requires its power management components to be arranged in a particular shape. My hypothesis is that this explains the unusual shape of the Spheres.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right, Lieutenant,” said Stansfield sceptically, “because otherwise this will be the shortest engagement in history.” He stared at the image for a little longer as he collected his thoughts. Then he nodded once, his decision made.

  “Take it off the screen,” he said firmly. “They’re too far away to pose an immediate threat, whoever they are, and we have our own problems. Ed, I need you here by my side for this one, you’re going to want to take a look at this.”

  “We’re on our way, sir,” said Vernon, “just weaving through this nest of Unborn bastards.”

  “Ten minutes, Commander.” Then Stansfield closed the channel and sat back in his chair, deep in thought.

  Kearney was keen to hear what had happened on the bridge. She sure as hell was getting out of the cloning bay alive–there was no way she was missing out on whatever had silenced Stansfield.

  “We’re going to start moving,” said Mason. “Hold steady, Hunter, we’ll prioritise getting you out of the middle of those things.”

  Mason approached from the front, knife at the ready. It suddenly seemed like a very small blade. “You sure about this?” he asked as Kearney and Vernon approached the pack of Unborn from the other side.

  “No,” said Kearney, “not really.”

  “Great,” grunted Mason, edging forward. The Unborn had all quietened down, as if they were now safe from harm, but the air of menace was tangible.

  But Charlie Team stayed silent, tense and on edge as soon as they moved within a metre of the beasts. Hunter was completely encircled. There was no way he was breaking out of that grouping without help. They all selected their first kill.