Armada

by Paul Teague

  “Weird,” said Hunter, unslinging his rifle. “I mean, what the fuck?”

  “Is it working?” asked Davies.

  “No change,” said Kearney. “They’re just sitting there.”

  “Let me give it a tickle,” said Davies. “So now we–”

  “Hold on,” said Hunter, “something’s happening.”

  “Yeah,” said Kearney, alarmed, “they’re all detaching from the core, every single one of them.”

  “Righhhhttt,” said Davies slowly. “Let me just–”

  “Oh shit, they’re coming for us,” said Kearney, unslinging her rifle.

  “Hold your fire,” said Hunter, as the Bots began to move around the walls. “We can’t shoot, we’ll wreck the core.”

  “They’re going spare,” shouted Kearney. “They’re all over the place! Fuck, Davies, what have you done?”

  And then a swarm of Bots rolled over them.

  25

  “Kearney? Hunter? Shite, what’s happening down there?” said Davies as he desperately tried to get a response. His HUD seemed to be connected and the channel was open, but he’d had his quota of cock-ups for one day, and he didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of two of his colleagues.

  He fed the code into the Battle Sphere control docks while he waited for Kearney and Hunter to respond. This was going to be a three-pronged pincer movement of the technical variety.

  “Davies, you there?” Kearney’s voice came over the open channel.

  “Did it work?” asked Davies, hugely relieved to hear her voice.

  “It’s a bloody good job it did,” said Kearney. “We had the entire swarm crawling all over us, they were going crazy. Then they just stopped. Every single one of them, just like that.”

  “Thank fuck for that,” said Davies, letting out a huge sigh of relief. Then he paused and frowned. “What’s that noise in the background? It sounds like jelly squelching.”

  “That’s Hunter knifing Bot brains. He’s having way too much fun. How’d you do it, Double-D?”

  “Security hole,” said Davies, “and a networking flaw. The Bots have a poorly secured, peer-to-peer firmware update service based on an ancient Royal Navy operating system. We installed a virus, it spread through the cohort, then boom.”

  “A virus,” said Hunter, his voice flat. “You killed them with a virus?”

  “Yup,” said Davies smugly. “Cutting edge exploit, in its day. It erased their firmware, and that left the brains isolated in a jar of goo, unable to link with their own operating system. I knew all this old shit would come in handy someday.”

  “That’s actually pretty neat,” said Kearney, with no small degree of admiration in her voice.

  “I fixed the malware problem as well,” said Davies, enjoying his moment of triumph. “It was calling back to base for instructions,” he went on, “so I redirected the calls, scrambled their instructions, and put it to sleep. Partly, at least. It’s not a uniform whole, and some parts are independently active.”

  “We have power on the bridge,” said Stansfield. “How’s Commander Vernon?”

  “Dazed and bruised, sir, but alive,” she said. “Hunter’s cutting him free from some kind of metallic web right now, we’ll have him in a medbay ASAP.”

  “Good work,” said Stansfield.

  “Restoring artificial gravity in twenty seconds,” said Pickering.

  “We have no power to our defences,” said Lieutenant Yau. “Davies, are you able to do anything about that?”

  “Not from here, sir. I think that’s a job for Lieutenant Fernandez,” said Davies.”

  “No access to weapons systems, Admiral,” said Fernandez. “But power, comms and tech are at least partly restored.”

  “Get the enemy ships on the main screen,” said Stansfield. “Hail them again.”

  “Hailing now, sir,” said Pickering. “Nothing, Admiral, sorry.”

  “At least they’re not firing at us,” said Lieutenant Yau.

  “Small consolation,” growled Stansfield, “given their complete superiority.” He opened the channel to Mason. “Where’s my defensive array?”

  “Almost done, sir,” said Mason. “We’ve deployed eighty per cent of the mines so far.”

  Mason’s small team had worked hard to deploy the mines and create a three-dimensional defensive array between Vengeance and the enemy battleships. As black as the vacuum around them, the mines were only about the size of a loaf of bread, but they packed an AI-driven targeting system, a short-range engine, and enough explosive power to punch through the armoured hull of a starship and devastate anything on the other side.

  “Last batch going out now,” said Mason as hundreds of the tiny devices were eased out of a pair of Raptors. “We got them from Orion. They’re almost invisible, but they see everything around them.” This was Mason’s element, amongst explosives and the devices that delivered them.

  Then Pickering’s voice broke through the quiet. “Target Two is moving,” said the Midshipman. “She’s heading for Vengeance.”

  26

  “Incoming call from Resolution, Admiral,” said Midshipman Campbell. “They’re requesting permission to enter the portal.”

  Stansfield nodded and brought up the summary of Resolution on his HUD. She was a young ship, commissioned only months earlier and not yet battle-tested, having been diverted to Kingdom 10 before reaching New Bristol. Smaller than Orion, she was nearer Vengeance in size, even though her abilities were vastly greater than those of Stansfield’s ancient vessel.

  “By the pricking of my thumbs,” Stansfield muttered as he took in Resolution’s specifications. “A formidable ship. Thank you, Mr Campbell. Put Captain...”

  “Fontana, sir,” said Lieutenant Yau.

  “Fontana on screen now,” the admiral finished.

  “Ay, sir,” said Campbell; then part of the main display showing the strategic overview was replaced by an image of a standard RN clone in an officer’s uniform.

  “Welcome, Captain Fontana,” said Stansfield. “We have a situation here and could use your help. I’d like Resolution to remain on the far side of the portal until we can engineer a more advantageous encounter.”

  “Negative, Admiral,” said Fontana in a clipped accent designed to grate on the ears of everyone who heard it. “The Admiralty has ordered me through the portal to provide immediate back-up and offensive capability.”

  “I understand that,” said Stansfield, his temper firmly under control, “You’ll be able to pass through the portal unopposed; I’m merely suggesting that we coordinate our efforts so that–”

  “Of course, Admiral,” said Fontana smoothly. “That’s in line with the last report we received from Lieutenant Woodhall, and we’ll be well-positioned to play an active role once we cross the portal.”

  Stansfield was silent while Fontana spoke, but his face was as cold as stone. “The situation is dire,” admitted the admiral, “but blundering in without a thought for the finer tactical points will simply–”

  “Thank you, Admiral, but I have my orders,” said Fontana primly. “I will liaise with Captain Ryan and report back to the Admiralty, but we will be doing it from your side of the portal. Resolution out.”

  The channel closed, and Fontana’s face disappeared from the main display. The bridge of Vengeance was silent as the crew waited for Admiral Stansfield’s reaction.

  “Get me the positions of the enemy ships, please, Miss Pickering,” snapped the admiral after a short pause.

  “Target One is adrift, sir,” said Pickering. “She’s dark and appears fatally wounded. Target Two has turned, and is now stationary relative to the portal. Target Five is also stationary, at six thousand metres from the portal and twelve thousand from Orion. Target Six remains close to Orion. It’s not clear what she’s doing.”

  “Thank you, Miss Pickering. Link Resolution into our tactical feed,” said Stansfield. “Let’s make sure they at least know what’s going on.”

  “Ay, s
ir,” said Pickering, “working on it now.”

  “Resolution is moving forwards,” said Lieutenant Yau. “She’ll be through the portal in thirty seconds or less.”

  The crew could only watch as Resolution appeared through the portal. Where Orion was huge and bulky, Resolution was slim and sleek, although no less deadly. She moved through the portal at low speed and immediately began to deploy autonomous weapons systems.

  “Just as Orion did,” muttered Stansfield, hoping that Resolution’s fate would be different, but fearing the worst.

  “Target Five is moving, sir,” said Pickering. Her hands flashed across her console, and the view on the main display changed to show Target Five powering towards Resolution from above.

  “Open a channel to Resolution,” said Stansfield, leaning forward in his command chair as he watched the drama unfold.

  “Negative, sir,” said Campbell. “Connection refused.”

  “Refused?” said Stansfield in evident surprise. “What the hell–”

  Then Target Five opened fire, and time seemed to slow.

  On the Battle Sphere, a lull in the fighting had allowed the Marines to regroup and the members of Charlie Team to survey the wider conflict.

  Davies hadn’t managed to restore control, but he’d been able to activate the display screens and route feeds from the Sphere’s external sensors to create a rudimentary tactical display.

  “It’s not perfect,” he said, “but we’ll have an idea of what’s going on.”

  “What’s that?” said Conway as a new ship emerged through the portal. She was sitting on the edge of the console, her helmet by her side and her rifle resting across her thighs.

  “That’s Resolution,” said Captain Figgis, glancing up at the screen. He and his command team had taken advantage of the pause to confer in the control room and re-organise their defence. “Makes Vengeance look like a cargo hauler.”

  “Hope her captain knows what they’re doing,” said Conway, “or this is going to be a really short trip.”

  “Captain Fontana,” said Figgis, leaving his lieutenants to pass out the orders and organise his Marines. “New ship, new captain. Her first capital command.”

  Ten was sitting on the floor, helmet in his lap as he polished the faceplate with a rag. He looked up at the screen and shook his head. “Fontana’s an arrogant prick,” he said, setting his helmet to one side and checking his pistol. “I pity her crew.”

  “That’s enough, Marine,” snapped Captain Figgis. “On your feet and show some respect, or I’ll have you on a charge.”

  Ten holstered his pistol, picked up his rifle and calmly ejected the magazine. Figgis glowered down at him, visibly angered.

  “I said–”

  “I heard,” said Ten, slamming home the magazine. “I just don’t care.” He stared up at Figgis, blandly disinterested as the rest of the room fell silent, distracted even from the events unfolding outside the portal.

  “Name,” snapped Figgis, face blotchy and purple as he stared down at Ten and tried to find an indication of his rank on his armour.

  “My friends call me Ten, sir, but you can call me Marine X.”

  “Marine X? A Penal Marine?” said Figgis angrily, taking a step forward.

  There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere as Conway pushed herself off the console and took a step forward.

  “Stand down, Trooper,” snarled Figgis, glaring sideways at Conway.

  “Or what, sir?” said Conway wearily, too tired to make an effort but happier by far to stand alongside Ten than Figgis.

  The captain opened his mouth, but Davies interrupted from his spot on the floor, where he was still working at the Sphere’s systems.

  “Contact,” he said quietly.

  All attention switched to the screens, and the room’s occupants watched as one of the enemy battleships opened fire on Resolution.

  “Now we’ll see who’s boss,” said Figgis confidently as Resolution returned fire. The screen flared as the two vessels exchanged fire. Then there was a flash and a third ship flitted across the view, almost too fast to be seen.

  “What was that?” snapped Figgis. “Play it back, I want to know what’s going on.”

  “What you see is what you get, sir,” said Davies. “We’re a bit strapped for equipment.”

  Not that there was any real doubt as to what was going on. The first of the enemy battleships was still firing, but its engines were dead and Resolution would soon be out of range, having delivered an all but fatal blow. There was a series of explosions along the length of the enemy ship and it stopped firing and went dark, disappearing amongst the stars as it tumbled away, broken.

  “Ha!” said Figgis triumphantly, and for a moment the room turned optimistic.

  Then a blaze of light engulfed Resolution, whiting out the displays and forcing everyone to look away. When they looked back, all that was left of Resolution was a cloud of radioactive debris.

  “Told you,” said Ten sadly, “an arrogant prick.” He levered himself to his feet, stretched his neck and peered at Captain Figgis. “Break’s over,” he said as he refitted his helmet, “time to work again.” From the corridors beyond the control room, the sound of gunfire drifted in.

  Figgis stared angrily at Ten for a few seconds; then he snatched up his own helmet and started shouting orders. The room was suddenly abuzz with activity as the defenders sprang back to their roles, leaving the members of Charlie Team abruptly alone.

  “Did you have to do that?” said Conway after Figgis had left. “I mean, could you just not have left things alone?”

  Ten shrugged. “Fontana’s bad news, and Figgis isn’t much better.”

  “So what now?” said an exasperated Conway.

  “Stay alive, wait for Davies to fix things, complete the mission, and go home,” said Ten, as if he were describing a simple walk in the park.

  “Yeah, about that,” said Davies ominously. The others turned to look at him. “I’ve done everything I can think of, and the best I can do is a stalemate.”

  “Told you this wouldn’t work,” said Jackson from along the room, where he was watching for approaching Mechs.

  “What do you mean?” said Conway testily, her patience worn thin.

  “Some of the core systems are damaged,” said Davies. “I can’t take control without replacing them, but neither can the Mechs. This ship is, to all intents and purposes, fucked.”

  “And you can’t un-fuck it?” said Ten. “Just want to make sure I’ve understood.”

  “Nope,” said Davies as he stood up. “I’ve been battling, the enemy has fought back, and between us we’ve trashed the hardware and corrupted so much of the system that I’m surprised the lights are still on.”

  There was a moment’s quiet.

  “So what now?” asked Gray finally.

  Davies picked up his rifle, checked the magazine, then refitted his helmet. “Find bad things,” he said carefully, “and shoot them.”

  “My favourite type of solution,” said Ten. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  27

  “Damn it,” said Stansfield as he stared at the tactical screen on Vengeance’s main display. “Is there no speaking sense to these pen-pushers?”

  He shook his head as he watched the remains of Resolution drifting away; then he opened a new channel. “Stansfield to medbay. What’s the latest on Commander Vernon?”

  “The commander has discharged himself, sir,” said a voice that didn’t attempt to hide its disapproval. “He refused my advice and is returning to duty.”

  “We haven’t met yet,” said Stansfield.

  “Senior Medical Officer Doctor Julius McWhirter,” said the voice.

  Stansfield thought on it a moment. “Any relation to Angus McWhirter?”

  “I’m his son, sir, newly arrived as part of the transfer from Orion.”

  “Welcome aboard, Dr McWhirter. I worked with your father. He was an excellent medic, the best this ship ever had.”

&n
bsp; “Thank you, sir,” said McWhirter.

  “We’ll talk when this is over, Doctor. Stansfield out.”

  Vernon walked onto the bridge. He’d changed his uniform, but he still looked bruised, battered and bedraggled. Stansfield could clearly see the red pin-prick marks where the needles had been forced into his head.

  “Welcome back, Commander,” said Stansfield. “Are you sure you’re fit to return so soon?”

  “The Doc ran his tests, sir,” said Vernon as he lowered himself gingerly into his chair. “My brain has been declared fit for purpose, but my body needs six months’ rest. I’ve taken painkillers, antibiotics and stimulants, so I’m good to go. You know who that is in the medbay, don’t you?”

  “I do,” confirmed Stansfield with a nod. “If he takes after his father, he’ll make an excellent addition to the crew. We have new faces on the bridge as well, but introductions will have to wait. Resolution has been destroyed.” Stansfield outlined the situation as Vernon sat in grim silence.

  “I should have stayed with the Mechs,” said Vernon quietly.

  “We’re not done yet,” said Stansfield.

  “We aren’t?” said Vernon, eyebrows raised. “I’m not sure I see a way out of this.”

  “Sir,” said Pickering before Stansfield could reply. “Target Two has turned again and is heading this way.”

  “On screen,” barked Stansfield.

  The main display flashed and changed as the tactical overview was replaced by an image of Target Two powering towards Vengeance.

  “She’s not exactly sprinting,” said Vernon with a frown. “How long till she passes by?”

  “Three hundred and forty seconds at her current velocity, sir,” said Pickering.

  “And where, exactly, is the screen of mines?” asked Stansfield.