by Rob Dearsley
Well crap. Nothing for it now. He either had to come clean or straight up lie. And he was terrible at lying. “It was the Admiral’s quarters that were attacked. He’s fine and we’re investigating the incident.”
“Thank you for being straight with me. I’m sending marines over to secure the Admiral.”
“You’ll have to clear that with the Senate.” Like hells, Lloyd was getting involved in that argument.
Lloyd thanked the other captain and cut the com channel before he could get further drawn into the debate.
The now full-screen SDF sensor feed ran through as the fighter ran its course over and over. First docking with the Hyperion.
Why would Starlight Industries want to mess with Nowhere, they’d been one of the first suppliers for the colony. He brought up the Starlight page on his flex, the founder and majority shareholders stared out from the header. Between two taller men with military short hair sat a flushed, rounded face.
Oh hells. If that was the link, it was bad. If the SDF found out they’d blast the station apart to get to Jerome.
The Hound finished its firing run and bugged out and around the station. He had to get some hard evidence something he could take to the Council or Niels.
He brought a station map up on his flex, turning it over to match the orientation of the sensor feed.
It looked like the fighter docked with cargo bay four.
It was past time he went and found that fighter and some answers.
◊◊
Space stretched away, an infinity of nothingness. Speckles of light dotted the darkness. Stars shining against the endless night. Michael Dannage focused on his breathing.
In and out.
The deck plating felt cool beneath his hands. He had to remember he wasn’t really here, in space, he was in a cabin on the Feynman.
Whispers from behind him, too faint to make out words.
Dannage spun, looking for the source of the voice.
Systems nominal. Prepping for jump.
Dannage recognised the voice. The Vanir. The cruiser drifted into his view. Powerful front facing weapons poked out between layers of heavy armour plate thicker than the whole Folly. Ranks of close in guns bristled down the length of the ship interspersed with com relays and docking ports. The ship drifted beneath him, its command tower rising from the ship’s midpoint like the fin of a shark. Truly these Terran ships were built for war. How many SDF ships had been killed by those guns, how many lives had it taken to put those scratches in her armour?
We followed orders.
Dannage started. Was the ship talking to him?
Before he could form a coherent response the pulse of the ship's power crashed and the Vanir jumped in a flash of blue.
Vectors and coordinates echoed through Dannage’s head. His lips curled into a humourless smile. They had it now.
◊◊
Arland found Dannage on one of the Feynman’s expansive flight decks, sat on the Folly’s loading ramp. Combined Air-Space fighters hung from gantries overhead and outside, the Pyrite stations moved slowly past. They were finally heading out of the system. Time to take action. She felt like she’d been on the back foot since they’d found Dannage, and was glad to be finally getting out in front of the problem.
“Hey,” Dannage said as she dropped down beside him.
“Hey yourself. How are you holding up?”
“Just need some quiet and a good night’s sleep.”
“What about the blockers?” Arland asked. Vaughn had used neural blockers to help Hale function around the Terran ship.
“Don’t like them. They make everything fuzzy.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. What could she say that would make this better? Anything would just be platitudes or impossible promises. Instead, she leaned into him. This she could do. No matter what the damn universe threw at them, she’d be there for him. To the end.
The ship shuddered and Arland’s ears popped as the star-speckled black was replaced by the rippling blue of the highway. Beside her, Dannage relaxed, the tight lines around his eyes lessening.
“Thank you, for everything,” Dannage said, looking out into the blue rushing.
“Always,” she replied, leaning into him.
It might have been a few minutes or it might have been hours later, a marine walked in. The light caught on the carbon plating of his synthetic right hand. He was one of the team Rossini had sent over to help them on the Garrison.
“Prybar?” Dannage said as he pushed up off the Folly’s ramp and over to the marine. “Good to see you again.”
The man took Dannage’s extended hand. “I have a name you know, and a rank.”
Arland spotted sergeant’s stripes on the man’s shoulder. “How do you know the Sergeant, Captain?”
The marine snapped to attention, throwing out a smart salute. “Sergeant Hutch, sir. Captain Dannage saved me during the Battle of Pyrite. Master-sergeant Grayson requests your presence in Alpha Armoury.”
Arland’s ears perked up at the mention of Grayson. They’d fought together through the Terran X-ship. She still had nightmares of the Turned hunting them through darkened hallways. Being thrown through shifting gravity as the ship itself fought against them. Even so, she’d pulled through and she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have had without the old marine Sergeant, or Master-sergeant now.
“They kept your squad together?” Dannage asked.
“As we’re now the most experienced in fighting the Turned, we were seconded to the Feynman for Terran ops.”
The three of them walked out onto the upper crew-way. The wide compartment ran nearly the whole length of this hull with chimney voids interspersed at intervals. The large central space was supposed to help with air circulation, but to Arland, it felt like a waste of space. Although space wasn’t really in short supply here. The Feynman was bigger than Garrison station.
Squads of pristine troopers jogged past in perfect unison. For a time, after her court-martial, she would have done anything to get that strict, ordered life back. Now she had it back, it didn’t feel the same. When she was younger, the military had been her life.
Now, she had a new life. With Dannage at her side, everything felt right. This was how it was meant to be. She cast a quick look over at Dannage, she couldn’t have asked for more, or better. They’d find a way to help him, she’d find a way to help him. She’d go to the ends of the universe if she had to.
They turned off the crew-way into one of the downward-curving hallways and through a door with armoured marines on guard. Hutch flashed the guards a smile, they just looked back with blank, bored eyes. Arland didn’t buy the act, there was a vigilance beneath the blank facade.
“Thanks, guys.” Dannage gave the guards a friendly wave as they passed. The guards didn’t respond. Since they’d gotten onto the highway Dannage had perked up considerably. He almost seemed like his old self. Which meant he’d probably throw himself into the middle of a firefight any minute.
The doors opened into a double height armoury. It was a big space, incorporating a full-sized firing range as well as decontamination compartments and usual racks and racks of weapons. Every military weapon she could think of were present and even a few she’d not seen before.
Arland walked over to a rack of heavy rifles. She used one before – Silicate IVc – it had been her first mission with Dannage. The high-tech rifles were damn expensive and she’d only ever seen them used by private operators.
“You like the Type-17 then?” Grayson said, walking over from the firing range. He’d grown a neatly trimmed beard since she’d last seen him.
“These would give the Turned a run for their money.” Arland hefted the large boxy rifle, keeping its double barrels pointed at the overhead.
“Maybe, but we’ve got something special for those fatherless gits,” Grayson said.
“Hey boss,” Ellis called from the firing range. “You have to have a go on these new rifles.”
Rutter and Fyffe step
ped out of the firing range, both holding rifles similar to the one Ellis was carrying.
“Given the scope of the operation, your team will be joining my squad when we board the Terran ship,” Grayson said.
“You mean the Vanir?” Dannage said, coming up behind them.
Grayson ignored the jibe. “You’ll need to train up on the new anti-Turned equipment. We’ve got six hours before we hit the system.”
They walked over to one of the firing range’s empty bays. Hutch joined them carrying one of the new rifles.
“Anti-Turned gun. Uses magnetically propelled caseless, high explosive, flechette rounds.” Hutch hefted the weapon. “You want to give it a go?”
Wow. So that’s what they looked like. She’d heard about the new Anti-Turned rifles, but not seen one before, let alone had the chance to use one. Hutch passed her the rifle. It looked like the love-child of a grenade launcher and a marksman’s rifle. A drum-like, grenade launcher style loader sat between a rectangular vented barrel, almost as wide as Arland’s forearm, and the stock and trigger assembly. A second, angled grip sat in front of the loader.
“So, this is a rail-gun?” she asked. It seemed far too light for something that, historically had been mounted on capital ships.
“Technically no. It’s a coil-gun,” Grayson said. And then in response to her frown. “Similar technology but less recoil.”
Considering the mid-sized cruisers had to counter-burn when they used their MACs that was a good thing.
Arland stepped up to the firing line. Considering its size, the ‘coil-gun’ was surprisingly light and well balanced. It was no more unwieldy than the sniper rifles she’d trained with.
“Is it loaded?” She aimed the chunky gun down-range.
“Training rounds, the live ammo would punch a hole in the bulkhead. Four shots left.” Grayson took a step back.
She peered down the weapon’s glow-post sights at one of the practice targets and steadied her breathing. Despite everything, it felt right. Her new position might not let give her the opportunity to as much as she liked, but she’d always be a sniper. Always see the world through the sights of a gun. She braced for the kickback of the weapon, leaning into it, and squeezed the trigger.
The rifle hummed and the hairs on Arland’s arm stood to attention, her skin tingling like she was stood too close to a high voltage circuit. At the same moment a blunt rubber round, about an inch in diameter and twice as long, shot from the rifle to slam into the centre of the reinforced target with enough force to leave a dent. The hefty recoil she was expecting never came, and she overbalanced stumbling forward into the booths retaining wall.
“You good?” Grayson caught her arm, steadying her.
“When you said ‘less kick’ you weren’t kidding.” She lowered the gun.
Hutch and Dannage walked over, Hutch was grinning. “I tried one of the first prototypes. Chemical propellant. Stupid thing knocked me on my ass. Brass went back to the science bods and said, reduce the recoil.”
Grayson took on the story. “They really took that to heart.”
“How many shots?” Arland asked as more rubber darts slammed into targets along the range. The rest of her team practising.
“Drum holds ten rounds,” Hutch said.
Arland sighted up another round, imagining a Turned baring down on her. She snapped off a pair of shots in quick succession.
◊◊
Dannage watched Arland as she joined the others on the firing line. Always in the firing line. But seeing her with a rifle looked right. Still, he didn’t like the idea of her going over the Terran ship. Last time she had, he’d almost killed himself to get her back. But he wouldn’t stop her. Probably couldn’t even if he wanted to. He knew action, actually doing something, helped her process. And if not her then who?
“Sir,” Prybar, Hutch, called from where he was passing out those massive rifles. They looked almost Terran in design. “Captain wants to see you on the bridge.”
Dannage cast one last look at Arland. He hoped she’d be okay. Of course, she would be, Grayson and the others were professionals. They’d done things like this before. Hadn’t they?
“How many times have you done this?” he asked Hutch.
“Actually, boarded a Terran ship. Twice. We’ve engaged the Turned half a dozen times.” He gave Dannage an encouraging look. “We’ll be fine. You should get going.”
Dannage wasn’t so sure. And… “Where else did you engage the Turned if not on the Terran ships?”
“A couple of early operations to try and retake Gypsum, and Turned taken by crazy types - like that Craven fellow - that escaped onto populated worlds.”
Still, Dannage wasn’t sure.
“We’ve beaten them before and the new kit really does give us the edge against them.” He placed his mechanical hand on Dannage’s shoulder. “We’ll get this done. I promise.”
Dannage smiled and turned toward the door. As much as he liked the kid, Hutch really shouldn’t be making promises he couldn’t follow up on.
As the armoury doors closed behind him, he tried to shake off his worry. For the time being his mind was his own, the pressure of the Terran ships gone. He should enjoy this.
He turned to the stone-faced guard. “So, a rabbit walks into a bar…”
Nothing.
“You guys suck.” He started down the hallway.
“I’ll nail your ears to the wall, Sir,” one of the guards called after him. Dannage couldn’t help but smile. They did have a sense of humour after all.
Luc, Hale and Vaughn met them on the crew -way.
“We good Cap’n?” Luc asked.
“Yeah.” They were actually going to do this thing. He could think clearly. Everything was going well.
It couldn’t last.
Fourteen
(SDF Feynman, on-rout to Sillimanite)
The lift doors opened onto the Feynman’s bridge and Dannage walked out onto antiseptic lighting of the upper section, Hale, Vaughn and Luc a constant presence at his back. The main display on the opposite wall was split to show the ship’s status feeds and positional readings. Rossini gestured for them to join her at the holo-table. At the moment, it showed the standby display, a revolving SDF logo.
Rossini tapped the control console and the SDF Shield was replaced with a star system. Seven planets and Kuiper belt around a main sequence star. “Do you know, exactly, where the Terrans will jump in?”
Dannage walked over and inspected the display. Sillimanite system. The Vanir was jumping in from Calcite. He pointed to the far side of the table. “They’ll jump into the nearest edge of the system, here.” They never went further into the systems than was necessary, scared of the SDF and the threat posed by the Feynman and her sister ships.
“Good,” Rossini said. “We’ll jump into the far side of the system. Try and keep the sun between us and them. We’ll wait until they’re further in-system before we launch. We don’t want them to cut and run.”
The Vanir’s fear shivered down his spine, still so real. “They’re scared. They remember what we did at Pyrite. As soon as they see us, they’ll run. And they can jump out from anywhere in the system.”
Rossini paced the far side of the table, thinking. “Then the capital ships stay out of sight behind the sun, and we’ll send the troops in under full stealth.” She tapped another control. “Grayson, prep for quiet entry.”
“Copy, sir.” Grayson’s voice filtered through the com system.
At another touch from Rossini, the holographic representation of the Montgomery and her attendant scouts appeared on the side nearest Dannage. The blue glow of the hologram glinted off the golden engagement ring at Hale’s throat.
“We’ll jump in here, then deploy the stealth craft,” she said.
“We should move into a close orbit, it will mask us from the Terran scans,” Hale suggested.
“The radiation would mess with our own scanners,” said the tall blocky SDF officer as he climbed t
he stairway out of the watch pit. “It would also reduce our com range. We’d be out of contact with the insertion team.”
Dannage had played this game before. The idea of being out of contact with the ground teams, with Arland, rankled him. Watching from a distance without being able to do anything to help was bad enough. But to not even know what was happening, was a nightmare.
“This is Commander Valentine, my Executive Officer,” Rossini said by way of introduction, as Valentine sauntered over to join them at the holo-table, an easy smile circling the corners of his eyes. The Commander seemed way more laid-back than any SDF officer Dannage had met before.
On the hologram, planets spun past Dannage. Callouts giving a brief precis on each one. The fourth and fifth planet were the Goldilocks Zone and heavily colonised. The Vanir would avoid them like the plague. But the second planet. It was far enough out to be geologically stable but too close to the sun to be colonisable no matter how hard they pushed the terraformers. Not that that had stopped the corporations from setting up shop.
“There’s a mining colony here.” Dannage pointed to the inner planet. “We can use the moons to hide our LIDAR profile and relay our coms through the colony’s array.”
Valentine pulled his flex out and paged through a couple of screens. “That would work.”
Rossini looked over to Hale, who nodded in confirmation? “Okay, we use the moons for cover and send the shuttles in.”
It was a good plan, it felt like one anyway. “It would be even better if we could send the shuttles in ahead of time and have them wait under low power?”
Rossini glanced at her XO, who tapped at his flex before replying, “Then we send them out as soon as we hit the inner system, they’ll be in position in time.”
The bridge doors sighed open. Admitting Arland and Grayson. Damn, Arland looked good. The chitinous black hard-shell of her armour suited her, as did the hefty rifle slung across her back. She was an SDF soldier. Seeing her like this it felt right.
Rossini’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Now you’re both here, we can move onto the next phase of the plan.” She touched her controls and the system map dissolved into a wireframe rendering of the Terran ship.