Armada

by Paul Teague

  “I’ll remind you of your rank, Trooper. If you don’t want to be cleaning out the shitters for the next week, I suggest you adopt the correct tone with your superior officers.”

  Mason realised he’d spoken out of turn and apologised.

  “I think what Mason meant to say, Admiral,” Kearney began, more diplomatically, “is that Hunter has already become a valuable member of our team. I know he’s a Penal Marine, and I don’t know what his crimes are, but Ten is a Penal Marine too, and they’ve both been invaluable to this mission. I’d respectfully ask that you don’t rush to using that device on Hunter.”

  “Your sentiments are acknowledged, Trooper, but if I think that Hunter is a risk to my crew or my ship, I’ll take his head off. Is that understood by everybody?” Stansfield looked around the remnants of Charlie Team and his bridge crew. There were reluctant nods from Yau, Kearney and Mason.

  “They also have Vernon,” Stansfield went on, “and that’s a different matter altogether. If the Bots get inside his head, they’ll have access to an encyclopaedia of our operational secrets. That threatens not just our security, but the Admiralty’s.”

  The team shuffled uncomfortably. What applied to Vernon applied to all of them, to some degree or another.

  “Take whoever you need,” Stansfield went on, turning to Kearney and Mason. “Use Marines, security teams, crew, anyone. Find Hunter and Commander Vernon. Get them back, but don’t engage if it puts Vernon’s life in danger. Is that clear? Then go.”

  Mason and Kearney acknowledged their orders and left the bridge, leading the remains of their Marine teams back into the ship.

  “Lieutenant Yau,” said Stansfield, “I need you here on the bridge. There’ll be time for recovery later, but first we have to regroup and find out if Orion are still hell-bent on joining us at this side of the portal. Can you do that?”

  Yau was bruised, bloodied and exhausted. His uniform was a torn mess, and his hand shook as he picked up a data slate from the floor of the bridge. But he nodded slowly and limped back to his post to begin the process of coordinating the fragmented teams on board the ship.

  “Good man,” said Stansfield. The admiral stood for a moment, staring at the neat hole Hunter’s laser had burned in the command chair, then he shook his head and sat down.

  “I have Captain Ryan, sir,” said Yau, sounding about a thousand years old. “Orion is offering to deploy our backed-up people to new clones.”

  “Good,” said Stansfield as he watched the first security detail arrive and begin clearing the deck of corpses.

  Yau watched as colleagues he’d worked with for years were hauled unceremoniously from the deck. They’d been on many journeys together, lain asleep alongside each other in the stasis bays for over fifty years, yet they wouldn’t have the privilege of returning to clone bodies like the crews of Colossus and Orion.

  Yau took a deep, calming breath, and moved on, placing duty first. There would be time to mourn, but first they had to dispatch the enemy.

  “Admiral Stansfield,” said Captain Ryan, beaming down from the main screen and apparently oblivious to the damage sustained by Vengeance’s bridge. “I’m pleased to report that the simulation probe has completed its journey to your side of the portal, and all data indicates that we’re clear to join you.”

  “We could certainly use some help, Captain.”

  “Marine reinforcements are on their way,” Ryan went on, “and we’re prepping a replacement bridge crew.”

  “They’re familiar with our systems?”

  “Somewhat,” said Ryan, in a tone Stansfield took to mean ‘no’. “The Admiralty asked us to prepare, but cross-training to Vengeance’s systems was a lower priority activity.” He paused to cough, and his tone became more positive when he resumed. “Everybody we send you is riding a modern clone, so your risk profile should be lowered.”

  “I appreciate that, Captain. We’ve lost some good people on this ship. I wish we’d been afforded the luxury of cloning when Vengeance was fully operational.”

  “I do have one piece of news for you, which I’m passing to your secure line now. It’s from the Admiralty, sir. They asked me to ensure that it was delivered personally.”

  Stansfield saw the data package arrive on his console; then he looked back at Ryan. “You’re still on my screen, Captain. Is there anything else?”

  Ryan looked briefly awkward before burying it beneath a veneer of professionalism. “The Admiralty requested I stay online to ensure that you’d received, read and acknowledged the order, sir. They said something about previous requests failing to reach you due to problems with the portal.”

  Stansfield snorted, certain that the Admiralty were far more aware of the reason behind Vengeance’s ‘communication problems’ than Ryan was letting on. He opened the data package and skimmed the contents, growing angrier the more he read.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Stansfield. “They want me to give Woodhall an executive command role? Do they know what a liability that man has been already?”

  Ryan said nothing, waiting impassively as Stansfield read the rest of the brief note.

  “And I’m to clear operational decisions with either you or Woodhall, eh?”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Ryan with a respectful nod. “I’ll confirm to the Admiralty that you have received and understood the orders.” The channel closed, and Ryan’s face disappeared from the screen.

  Stansfield’s face was red. The Admiralty’s orders were outrageous, but he hadn’t risen to his current rank without learning to apply creative discretion.

  “Get Woodhall up here,” he said to the bridge in general.

  “Ay, sir,” said Yau, now playing multiple roles as one of the few officers left alive. “Orion confirms they’re about to cross through the portal, sir.”

  “Good luck to them,” muttered Stansfield. He stood up to head for his ready room, but Yau called him back.

  “Sir,” said Yau, and something about his tone gave Stansfield a bad feeling. “The armada, sir,” he went on, flicking images onto the main screen. “They’ve split their force, and six battleships have jumped closer. Some sort of fast-flit hyperspace technology, maybe.”

  “Closer?” said Stansfield with a frown. “How long till they arrive?”

  Yau looked up at the Admiral, and Stansfield saw the fear in his eyes. “No more than six hours, sir.”

  16

  Stansfield could barely contain his anger with Woodhall. He’d attempted to keep matters civil, but it was soon apparent that his new executive officer had every intention of interfering.

  “What news on the captured Mech, Lieutenant?” Stansfield had asked as soon as Woodhall had reached the ready room. “What do we have to report back to Sol so far?”

  Woodhall ignored the question and sat, uninvited, in a chair across the desk. “I think we both know why I’m here, Admiral. Following my formal complaint to the Admiralty about your deliberate ignoring of the order not to enter the portal, I requested an intervention to help me contain your more maverick tendencies.”

  Stansfield took a deep breath, then an extra one just for good measure. He was too old to be throwing punches at arseholes, but Woodhall was sailing dangerously close to the rocks.

  “Regardless of the Admiralty’s orders,” Stansfield said coldly, “I’m sure you’d agree that when it comes to matters in the field I am, perhaps, better placed to make strategic judgements.”

  “No, Admiral, I do not agree. And neither does the Admiralty,” said Woodhall.

  “Colossus would still be here if the Admiralty had followed my advice,” Stansfield snarled.

  “There is more going on here than meets the eye,” said Woodhall. “You have not disclosed to the Admiralty all that you knew, and that lack of honesty has led both to the loss of Colossus and many deaths on Vengeance.”

  Stansfield narrowed his eyes and stared at Woodhall for a few seconds, then sat back in his chair.

  “You’re being delibe
rately obstructive, Admiral,” Woodhall went on. “I’m sure we can agree that we both want the same thing. We need to deliver the correct result for Sol, we must defend and protect this portal and prevent whatever is approaching from passing through into our territory. And we have to do it all with very limited resources.”

  Stansfield cursed inwardly. Woodhall had done his conflict management training and gone straight for the jugular – common ground. What could Stansfield say to argue with that?

  “Be that as it may,” said Stansfield carefully, “we clearly need some rules of engagement to–”

  “I’m not sure we do,” said Woodhall, a sneer on his face, as if he sensed an advantage and was going to make full use of it. “It’s quite clear in the guidelines. My executive command role requires you to run any and all strategic decisions or actions through me first. If I consider them to be contrary to the Admiralty’s objectives, I may overrule or consult further with the Admiralty before they are implemented.”

  Woodhall stood up, apparently in an attempt to end the interview. “You’ve brought this upon yourself, Admiral, by stomping off into space to do as you please.”

  “With all due respect, we’ve delivered some impressive results in a short–”

  But Woodhall interrupted again, “It was my actions that showed it was safe to go through the portal–”

  “As as a result of your incompetence in our SEVs,” snapped Stansfield. “Incompetence that could have resulted in the death of a valued member of the team.”

  “Marine X?” scoffed Woodhall. “He’s a Penal Marine in a standard clone. He’s entirely disposable–”

  “And perhaps that’s the difference between us, Lieutenant,” said Stansfield, his sudden anger forcing him to his feet despite his exhaustion. “Clones or not, each life is equally valuable, and nobody is ever disposable.”

  An awkward silence hung in the air; then Woodhall cleared his throat.

  “That is precisely why I’m needed here,” said Woodhall. “The Admiralty needs to be certain that you have the right temperament to make difficult decisions,” he went on as Stansfield boggled at him, “and to follow orders delivered within a legally mandated command structure.”

  Woodhall moved to leave, then turned back to Stansfield with a finger raised. “And I’ll need a desk,” he said, as if ordering coffee, “in here, so that we can work together. I take it you’ll make the arrangements?”

  Stansfield stared at him, unsure if his ears were working properly. “We’re still clearing bodies off the bridge,” he hissed, “and you want me to arrange a–”

  Stansfield stopped himself. If he didn’t manage this relationship, he’d be relieved of duty. He and Vernon both knew things that could tip the balance in this war, but they needed to keep their powder dry. This showdown could wait for another day. Besides, with Woodhall’s expertise, it was highly likely the man would blunder into an airlock and shoot himself out into space before he had any serious decision-making to do.

  Stansfield took a deep breath. “I’ll arrange a desk,” he said more calmly, “and we can work through our differences later.” He’d done the conflict training too, albeit many years ago. He knew how it worked.

  “Our priorities,” said Stansfield before Woodhall could interrupt, “are to clear the ship of bodies, hunt down the remaining OctoBots, retrieve Commander Vernon from the clutches of the Unborn, and free Hunter from whatever has hijacked his brain. And we’ll sort you out a desk.”

  “I suspect you’re being facetious, Admiral,” said Woodhall sternly, “but I’ll overlook that for now. We should also take new crew on board when Orion arrives and beef up Vengeance’s defensive capabilities. In the meantime, I hope you don’t mind me using your desk until mine arrives?”

  Woodhall wiped his hand across the surface of Stansfield’s desk and looked at his dust-caked hand in disgust.

  “Be my guest,” said Stansfield in disbelief, standing up to let Woodhall take his place. “I’ll have some polish sent over straightaway.”

  Then he strode out of the ready room back onto the bridge. The last of the bodies was being cleared as he took his command chair. He would soon have his temporary bridge crew, and the ever-reliable Lieutenant Yau was present.

  “Update me, please, Lieutenant. And get a desk and some polish for Lieutenant Woodhall in my ready room.”

  Yau nodded but asked no questions. The whole crew knew what that tone meant, and they stepped lightly around the admiral when he used it.

  “Sir,” he said instead, focusing on the task at hand. “Charlie Team are tracking Commander Vernon and Hunter. The new bridge crew will be here in less than twenty minutes. Orion is about to cross the portal. The team on the Battle Sphere hasn’t yet reported in.”

  “The ‘Battle Sphere’?”

  “That’s what we’re calling it, sir,” said Yau. “Let me pull it up on the main screen.”

  Stansfield looked at the image, and he had to agree that Yau was right. It looked exactly like something built to do battle, but it wasn’t a perfect sphere. To Stansfield, it looked more like a mad steel-worker had blown five bubbles and mashed them together to form one giant body.

  There were now gun turrets around the original five spheres, making the structure a formidable weapon. At five times the size of the smaller spheres, it was instantly more threatening and intimidating.

  “Good name,” muttered Stansfield, nodding slowly. “Contact Conway,” he said, “and get an update on their progress. We need to know if that thing’s an asset or a liability.”

  “Roger,” said Yau, opening a channel.

  Stansfield opened his own channel to Orion.

  “Admiral,” said Ryan. The man looked smug, and Stansfield guessed that he’d already spoken to Woodhall. “I take it there have been no further attacks?”

  “No, but our teams are still dealing with a few problems on Vengeance. When are you coming through the portal?”

  “We’re already moving, sir. The portal is open wide enough to facilitate safe entry, and the Admiralty has confirmed that the next ships to arrive will assume defensive positions on this side of the portal in case the armada gets past us.”

  “Understood. We should use the little time we have left to create some disincentives for our new friends. I’m thinking a defended perimeter with mines, a co-ordinated torpedo strategy, requisitioning of the giant sphere – the Battle Sphere, as we’re calling it – and offensive arrays of fighters.”

  “Entering the portal now,” said Ryan, ignoring Stansfield’s suggestions.

  “Conway reports a change in the Sphere’s activity, sir,” said Yau. “No obvious cause.”

  Stansfield flicked at his data slate, adding Yau to the private channel with Captain Ryan. “Anything to indicate offensive action, Lieutenant?” Stansfield asked.

  “Not that I can see, sir,” said Yau, frowning at his console, “but we know so little about this thing.”

  “We’re armed and ready,” said Captain Ryan, confidence dripping from his voice.

  “So was Colossus,” muttered Stanfield, but Captain Ryan appeared to think his massive state-of-the-art battleship was invincible.

  The remnants of the bridge crew watched as Orion emerged from the swirling mass of colours that created the portal.

  “Amazing,” said Stansfield, shaking his head at the sight. Orion was new and huge, maybe three times the size of Vengeance, with over five thousand crew. “Ryan, what the hell are you doing? Is that a shuttle?”

  Stansfield watched in horror as a tiny craft left a bay at the front of the giant ship.

  “There’s no point wasting any time, sir,” said Ryan dismissively. “Your reinforcements are on their way.”

  “Something’s happening, sir,” said Yau urgently. “The Battle Sphere, I think it’s noticed the shuttle.”

  “Or it doesn’t like Orion,” said Stansfield, appalled at the implications. “Ryan, abort the troop deployment.”

  “Negative, Admiral
, we’re clear to deploy,” said Ryan as the rest of Orion emerged from the portal.

  Stansfield opened his mouth to object as Yau started to say something about engine signatures.

  But it was too late. As the shuttle moved out of Orion’s shadow, a thick beam of blue light flashed from the Battle Sphere.

  The shuttle shuddered briefly; then the beam disappeared. For a moment it looked like the shuttle was unharmed, that it might somehow have escaped.

  Then a series of explosions rocked the tiny ship and its panels peeled away, spilling its cargo of Marines into the void.

  17

  “What the fuck just happened?” said Ten. The Sphere seemed to have finished shifting its parts around, and the structure was now still and silent, but they’d all felt it hum as power had shunted through the systems.

  “Everyone okay?” asked Conway. The team all showed green in her HUD, and they called in one by one to confirm. “So what happened?”

  “The beam weapon fired,” said Davies hoarsely. “Which is bad, ‘cos there shouldn’t have been anything to shoot at.”

  “Was it Orion?” asked Ten, fearing the worst.

  “I don’t know,” said Davies, a wail of despair in his voice. “I can’t see what’s going on, the screens here are all off and the doors are locked. I can’t get out!”

  “Steady, Davies,” said Conway in a low, slow voice, “steady. We’ll get out of this, and we’ll get our answers, okay?”

  There was a pause; then Davies said in a calmer voice, “Okay.”

  “Good, so tell me what we need to do. Take it slow, and break it down into nice, easy steps,” said Conway. “Start with the facts and work out from there.”

  “Okay,” repeated Davies. “The beam weapon fired, but we disabled the system on the original Sphere.”

  Conway nodded inside her helmet. The first Sphere’s beam weapon, or at least all the components they’d been able to identify, had been comprehensively shredded by railgun fire. “And your conclusion?”