by Rob Dearsley
“You’re sure this is the ship we’ll be breaching?” Grayson asked, taking position opposite Dannage, Arland at his side.
“Yes,” Dannage said. “I’m certain.” He’d seen the ship, felt it. He knew it like the back of his hand. It almost felt wrong, like he was manipulating them. No, they’d done this to him.
A red blip appeared in the lower aft section of the ship. “You’ll infill into the loading bay, here,” Rossini said. “Where’s the navigation data?”
Hale leaned over, pointing through the hologram to a compartment buried deep within the ship, the holographic outlines distorting around her arm. “The navigation systems are here. There’ll be a terminal where you can download the data. I can talk you through it.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Grayson said, pulling a boxy device from the front of his combat harness. “We’ve modified our data rippers to interface with Terran systems.”
Hale gave a low whistle. “Nice.”
The holo-table sprang to life, tracing a route through the ship from the loading bay to the navigation room.
“What about the decryption key?” Arland asked.
“Only place to access them is the command station on the bridge.” Hale pointed to a point halfway up the dorsal conning tower.
They were in opposite directions from the docking bay point. Things always seemed to work out that way.
“We’ll break into two teams,” Grayson said. “Arland and I will lead Alpha team and go for the navigation data. Hutch and beta team go for the bridge and the keys.”
Rossini looked around the table, meeting all their eyes before nodding. “We have a plan. Let’s get to it.”
Dannage felt it, the pressure of the Terran cores against his mind, a second before the Feynman dropped back into normal space.
Rossini said, “Take us in, nice and easy.” Both her and Commander Valentine moved off to their command stations leaving Dannage alone at the holotable.
Arland and Grayson turned to go. Dannage moved toward them, it felt wrong to approach her when she was laser focused like this. It wasn’t his Arland in that armour. She had to be hard and unyielding – military – to get through this. He didn’t want to risk splitting her focus.
“Sir?” Her eyes softened and, for a moment, he saw his Arland.
“Just come back to me.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, the hard edges of the armour scraping against his skin. She placed her gauntleted hand over his. In his mind’s eye, he could see the small scars on her knuckles.
She nodded, then turned and joined Grayson in the lift
“She’ll be fine, Cap’n.” Luc joined him at the holotable. Both he and Vaughn had kept their distances during the briefing.
Dannage looked his old friend in the eyes. He dearly hoped Luc was right. If Arland died, like this, trying to save him.
No.
He couldn’t think like that. Now was the time to focus. Play his part.
Vaughn pecked at the holo-table until it switched to showing a real-time view of the system. Two small blue dots detached from the larger marker of the Feynman, heading in-system – the troop transports. Callouts popped up over the transports, marking one Alpha and the other Beta.
Arland was on the Alpha shuttle as it scribed a curving path across the system. Terran voices whispered at the edge of his attention. Hale’s exercises were helping. He focused on Arland, his eyes tracking the shuttle. The touch of her hand, the small scars on her knuckles. The voices faded. Vaughn stood ready with blockers if it all got too much. But he’d insisted on not taking them beforehand. If there was a chance, he’d be able to use the link to help, he’d take it.
The shuttles rounded the sun, heading closer and closer to the intercept point, then drifted to a stop just next to the waypoint, their callouts darkening.
“Shuttles have gone dark,” a watch-stander announced.
Now there was nothing but the wait.
◊◊
Arland shifted, trying to get her heavy armour to settle comfortably. She’d spent enough time in hard-shell that it was like a second skin, but she’d never worn something like this before. The bulky hard-shell was combined with a power-assist exoskeleton and digitigrade, stilt-like legs. Moving in the armour was quick enough to pick up, but finding a way to sit comfortably in the tight confines of the transport with the leg extensions was near impossible.
Despite Grayson’s assurances and the time, she and the others had spent training, the nagging fear of the armour hurting her still lingered in the back of her mind. She’d seen too many power-assist kits glitch and hurt the wearer through hyperextension.
“How strong does this make me?” she asked Grayson, who was sat opposite her.
Grayson smiled, turning his hand over and inspecting the armour. His movements were accompanied by the soft whirring of the armour’s motors. “Armour’s rated to lift four-hundred kilos. It will make you competitive against the Turned.”
About time they got to fight the Turned on an even footing. Give them a taste of their own medicine. It was past time they knew the fear they inspired in humans. She touched her side. Not this time. This time she’d be the one bringing the pain.
The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, “We’re in position. Going dark.”
The lights in the back of the shuttle dimmed. Arland checked her equipment. There was nothing else left to do but wait. At the far end of the compartment, Ellis pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing.
“What are we playing?” Arland asked.
The cards danced between Ellis’s hands. “Rush.” He deftly flicked a card the length of the shuttle into Arland’s lap. Show-off.
Arland hadn’t played Rush in years, not since her time as a squaddie. It was simple, get more matching cards than the other players. She had a halfway decent starting hand, with a pair and three matching cards.
Grayson dumped three of his cards – nearly half his hand – face down on the deck. “Hit me.”
Ellis passed him two new cards.
Grayson inspected his cards. “Well, that sucks.”
“You could bluff,” Arland said.
“I might be.” Grayson wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.
“Arland?” Ellis prompted.
She plucked her two unmatched cards and dropped them on Grayson’s discards. Ellis flicked her a replacement. It matched her trio.
They went around the rest of the team. Rutter looked comfortable, relaxed even, as he tossed four of his cards in. Fyffe, almost lost inside the chunky armour, kept her starting hand, her eyes darting to the others. Then, it was time for the bet.
The speakers squawked. “Contact, contact.”
In an instant, the game was forgotten and the team was on their feet, donning their helmets and double-checking their armour. Grayson pulled Arland around, checking the seal on her helmet. Once he was done, he turned so she could do the same to him.
Arland looked through the shuttle’s small window, expecting to see a Terran ship looming above them. Nothing. Where were the ships?
She tapped Grayson on the shoulder and pointed to the window.
He thumbed the squad channel open. “Flight, where’s the target ship?”
“We’ve got a problem, sir,” the pilot replied. “The Terrans have jumped in much further in-system than we anticipated.”
Damn. She knew it had only been an estimate. But she couldn’t help but wonder if the Terrans had somehow known. Was this whole thing a trap? Behind her, the others shifted. Fyffe already had the shuttle’s optical feeds up on her helmet.
“How long to get to them?” Grayson asked.
“Two minutes at full burn, but they’ll see us coming.”
That put pay to any idea of this being a stealth op. Unless… “Can we get a line to the Feynman?”
Grayson thought about it for a second. “Yeah, low band audio shouldn’t give away our position at this range. Unless they’re looking for it.” He tapped a couple of co
ntrols on the wall behind his drop chair and a second com channel popped up on Arland’s helmet display.
She thumbed over to it. “Alpha team to Montgomery Actual.”
“Rossini here, sit-rep?”
“Is Dannage there?” she asked.
“I’m here. Sorry I missed on the ships.”
“Don’t worry, sir. Can you and Hale distract the ships while we make our run?”
The quiver and hesitance in his voice were as clear as day. “I’ll try.”
Hale cut in. “We’ll try. Angels watch over you, Commander.”
“Good luck sir, Arland out.” She turned to the rest of the squad. “Right, guys. Dannage and Hale going to be providing a distraction while we make entry run.”
Grayson added, “This could get rough, so buckle up and be ready to go as soon as we’re in.”
Arland settled back into her drop seat and buckled herself in. The others locked themselves back into the metal drop seats. A second later, the shuttle leapt forward, the force of acceleration pushing Arland into the chair.
“Boots dry in ninety seconds.” The pilot’s voice filtered through Arland’s helmet speakers.
Outside the small window, the underside of the Terran ship came into view, descending upon them. Arland’s adrenaline started. She took a breath and rechecked her armour and equipment. The shuttle rose up into some sort of drop bay.
The ramp dropped soundlessly and Grayson led them out into the Terran bay. Mesh walkways crisscrossed the space around the shuttles. Above them, heavy clamps held unused drone fighters. Below them, nothing but empty space. It was enough to give Arland vertigo. The others spread down the walkway, the hefty anti-Turned guns in their hands. She unslung her own weapon, scanning the space.
Being on a Terran ship again brought back memories she’d rather not have had to re-live. She’d almost died, twice, on one of these ships. Goosebumps ran up her arms at the thoughts. The loss of control as the Turned ripped through her forearms. If she couldn’t shoot what was she?
No. She was healed. She could still shoot, still fight. And by the Stars, she was going to show these Turned.
“Objective is up two decks and forward three sections,” Fyffe said. “Throwing up a waypoint now.”
A blue waypoint line flicked up on Arland’s helmet leading off into the darkened ship.
On the far side of the bay, Beta team formed up, weapons pointing in all directions, and headed aft, their callouts disappearing into the ship.
Alpha team formed up around Arland. She glanced over at the others. Rutter, stoic as ever. Fyffe, nervous and showing it. Ellis’s grin hiding his nerves. She’d get them through this. She had to.
“We’ve got this,” Grayson said over a private channel. “In and out. Nice and quiet. Might not even see any crew.”
Arland took a breath. She wasn’t alone in this. “Thank you, sir.”
They formed up and moved off into the Terran ship, staying in tight formation, Arland and Grayson taking the lead, the armour giving them a bouncy gait.
The ship's corridors were dark and empty. No sign of the Turned. Arland couldn’t quite believe they’d made it in undetected. So why weren’t they being swarmed? She flexed her hands relaxing her grip before she crushed the coil-gun.
Grayson cracked an air tester. The liquid in the short stick swirled, turning a dull green. “We’ve got air.”
No one bothered to crack their helmets.
The group crossed an intersection of hallways, ancient shell casings clinking underfoot, lots of them, the crew must have made a stand here. A desperate battle against their own mutated comrades. Arland strained her senses for any sign of movement. Anything. Where were the damn Turned? She’d almost rather the Turned attacked them and got it over with. At least then she’d know where the creatures were. They could be up to anything.
They needed to go up two decks. Arland checked the map on her HUD. There was an access ladder just ahead. A waypoint marker sprang up on the access hatch. Grayson must have had the same thought.
“Contact rear!” Rutter’s voice filled the com channel.
Arland spun, raising her rifle. The corridor was empty. Rutter’s suit lights panned back and forth, glinting off ancient shell casings, the only remnants of a valiant last stand by the original crew. Otherwise nothing.
“Jumping at shadows?” Ellis asked.
“I saw movement.”
“Your HUD pick up anything?” Grayson asked.
“No,” Rutter growled. “Stars, this place makes me jumpy.”
Arland couldn’t disagree with the sentiment. The phrase ‘silent as a tomb’ sprang into her mind.
They moved off again, Fyffe pulled the hatch open while Grayson checked the crawl-way. “Clear.”
The others climbed in after him. Arland backed up, holding rear guard. Her eyes flitting between the corridor and her HUD’s threat detectors. Rutter tapped her shoulder and she ducked back into the crawl-way.
Something flitted through the shadows. There and gone in a flash. She checked the threat detectors on her HUD. Nothing, but did that really mean anything? Arland turned and started up the ladder.
Even with the added height of the armour’s legs, the ladder was an awkward climb. The rungs, scaled for Terrans, were slightly too far apart. Everything on the ship was slightly too big. It made Arland feel like a child, playing dress up.
Her com cracked. “Contact above.”
The squad stacked up, around the small vent cover. Arland was stuck a few rungs down, unable to see.
The feed from Grayson’s helmet camera popped up on Arland’s HUD. The focus shifted between the grill right in front of him and the corridor beyond. A pair of Turned marched along the hallway.
One of the creatures knelt, opened an access panel and reached inside with two of its four arms. The flickering overhead lights went down, then came back up at full power. The Turned gave a satisfied grunt and replaced the maintenance cover.
That was odd. When she’d seen the Turned before they’d been mindless killers. Charging in waves, overrunning them, ripping them apart. For a moment, she was back in the X-Ship’s engine room, screaming Turned charging them. The roar of weapons-fire, the stench of death as clawed hands ripped through her armour.
The Turned moved on. They were acting like a crew. Were they starting to remember who they were? Becoming human again?
“Move out. Stay low,” Grayson’s voice filtered through her helmet speakers. She dismissed the camera feed with a flick of her eyes and started up the ladder.
To her right, Ellis tracked the Turned as they moved away. They may be doing maintenance now, but Arland had no doubt that if they were seen the creatures would rip into her team without hesitation.
The mission waypoint tracker pointed away from the Turned toward the ship’s midline. The Terran ships lacked the large crew-ways of their modern counterparts. The whole main body of the ship was crisscrossed with a grid of hallways and crawl-ways, and they could all be crawling with Turned.
She keyed her com to Grayson’s channel. “Sir, we need a bigger picture if we want to avoid the Turned. Can the shuttles give us scans of the area?”
“Active scanners could give us away. And right now, it looks like they haven’t seen us.”
Fyffe sidled up, pulling a black sphere from her pouch. “We could use throw drones.”
“Good call. Do it.”
The young girl tossed the sphere out in front of them and it landed with a dull thud, the rubberised surface lessening the sound. She followed with another two, one down each hallway. As the small spheres rolled away, their feeds popped up on Arland’s HUD.
“Move out, people. Quick and quiet.” Grayson ordered.
◊◊
Dannage took a deep breath and focused on the room around him, pulling his mind back from the Terran ships. Merging with Terran ships was a heady experience. It was getting harder and harder to pull himself back and increasingly tempting to lose himself in th
e network. To become one with them and just drift among the stars.
He looked over at the holographic status display. The Feynman and her three attendant scouts clustered together between the moons and mining outposts of the inner planet. Passive sensor feeds showed the Terran ships drifting across the far side of the system. Keeping clear of the habited world and trafficked routes. Just passing through. Looking for somewhere to lay low. Somewhere to call home.
They had no way of knowing what was going on inside the ships without using active scanners, so it was just a case of watch and wait. He hoped Arland and Grayson were doing okay.
Internal compartment search underway.
Wait. Crap. No. Dannage calmed himself and focused on the Vanir. Nothing wrong. Everything’s safe. Nothing here excepting fishes. The ship calmed, its internal scan subsiding. Stars, that was far too close.
“Sirs?” A watch-stander ran over. “Local defence ships are launching from the fifth planet.”
“What?” Rossini rounded on the young officer. “We ordered them to stand down.”
Bloody muppets. Dannage’s jaw tensed. They were going to screw everything up. “Hail them. Tell them to sod off.”
“We contact them, we give away our presence in the system. It’s only a few ships.” Rossini watched the callouts pop up on the hologram.
It didn’t salve Dannage’s worries. “It only took a scout and a wing of fighters to send them running before.”
On the hologram, the smaller ships closed on the trio of Terran ships.
Rossini and Valentine worked the problem. Maybe they could relay a message through the colony or use a local freighter.
Dannage relaxed his hold on his mind. The Terran ships pushed their way in eagerly.
Intercept vector five-one. Contact down track. Prep for primary jump.
Stars. He pushed the ships back with memories of Arland’s hand in his. “The ships are prepping for another system jump. We have to warn the marines.”
“Sir.” The officer pointed to the holographic display. “Local forces are accelerating for intercept. They’ll be within the Terran ship’s weapons range in ten minutes.”