Terra Prime (The Terran Legacy Book 2)

by Rob Dearsley

  Hale bowed, pressing her forehead against the cool glass. The world had burned around him. Everything spinning apart. And he’d climbed in here, jacked into VR, why? Was he that weak that he’d chosen to sleep away the end of everything? Like her...

  She pushed off the glass tube of the virtual reality chamber and turned to the controls. Even after all this time, they were still powered. Imperial tech was built to last. At least something endured. The wall in front of them lit up with status feeds. One window showing what the user was seeing.

  A child ran through a grassy field, clear glass building rose into the sky behind her. Her hair tied up with ribbons. She screamed in delight, reaching out for the user. The scene glitched and restarted the smiling face of the child rushing toward the user.

  Hale turned off the display and left the room.

  Back in the hallway, a notification flashed up onto Hale’s eye-piece. With a flick of her eyes, she brought up the feed from one of the mapping drones. The camera’s low light enhancements painted the corridor in lurid shades of green. Something stepped from the shadows. Turned?

  No. The head was the wrong shape and it only had two arms. A human, another Terran. It couldn’t be, not after all this time. The drone backed off, trying to get a better view. Even with the low light enhancements, the figure was little more than a silhouette barely perceptible against the gloom. The figure moved and shadow flowed over the drone. It flicked through all the camera modes, thermal, electromagnetic, regular, and back to low light. They all showed nothing but empty blackness. Then the window filled with static crossed by the message, “Signal Lost.”

  Grayson turned to Fyffe. “What was the drone’s last location?”

  “Showing you now, sir.”

  A partial map of the facility sprang up on Hale’s eye-piece, as Grayson shared it across the squad channel, and blue blips marked their location, in the VR suit.

  “Green marker shows the drone’s last position,” Fyffe said.

  A green marker appeared on the edge of the map, north of them and near the old barracks.

  There was something else in here with them. Something that, even with the Turned attacking from all sides, the Terrans had fought to keep from escaping. What the heck was scarier than the Turned?

  Nineteen

  (Asgard II Shipyards)

  Hardshell plates clamped around Arland’s torso, arms and legs with a firm but not uncomfortable pressure. Then came the reinforced bars of the power assist modules, locking her arms and legs into place. Beside her, Luc was bolting Hutch into his suit.

  Panic flitted through her, as the inert armour held her immobile. She couldn’t move, wasn’t sure she’d even be able to stand if the armour was unhooked from the stands. She’d never liked power assist armour.

  Then the power assist came online. She flexed her arms to the soft whining of the motors. Turning her hands over to inspect the reinforced gloves.

  “Are you sure about this?” Dannage asked as he passed her the helmet.

  “We’ll be fine.” She pulled it on and locked it in place before Dannage could ask her again.

  The heads-up display sprang to life, callouts popping up to mark Hutch and Luc’s armour.

  Dannage’s lips silently moved as he passed her the rifle. She keyed on the ambient microphones.

  “-know you think I worry too much.”

  She smiled down at him, the armour’s digitigrade legs gave her enough height to be taller than him for a change.

  Dannage retreated up the ladder to the bridge and a moment later the air system hushed to life, drawing the atmosphere from the cargo hold. Luc and Hutch joined Arland at the top of the cargo ramp.

  “Let’s get goin’,” Luc said over the com-link,

  As they stepped down out of the Folly, the station passed into the sunlight. Red light spilt across the landing pad, the long shadows of gantries and docking clamps reaching out for them. Above them, wreckage caught the sunlight with twinkling flashes.

  “Come on,” Hutch said, as he walked toward the doors into the facility.

  Lights around the door flickered on at their approach. The station still had power and was reacting to their presence. Just like the ships.

  Arland shivered. “This facility doesn’t have a Core-Mind, right?”

  Dannage’s voice filtered through the helmet speakers. “Nothing’s talking to me right now. I’m watching the place with thermal scanners and I’m not seeing anything that looks like a Core-Mind.”

  The ancient doors opened for the first time in thousands of years revealing the darkened interior of the airlock. Ranks of space-suits hung against one wall, while consoles dominated the other.

  Arland cast a last look back at the blunt arrowhead of the Folly as the airlock door closed behind them. Locking them in.

  A hushing of air filled Arland’s ears as the sounds of the room came in. The chinking of metal on metal as Hutch moved.

  The inner doors opened and they started out into the station, Hutch in the lead and Arland bringing up the rear, with Luc protected between them.

  Lighting stuttered to life, casting a dull light down the wide hallway. A layer of dust covered everything, but there were no bullet marks or other signs of battle. At least not in this part of the station. Arland couldn’t imagine the X-Ships and their Turned would have left this untouched. The whole thing felt a world away from the Vanir's interior.

  “Guys,” Arland said. “Where do we go from here?”

  Jax's voice cracked through the com, “Shauna, I’ve matched up Hale’s descriptions with the Folly’s density scans. It should give you a good idea of where to start. Sending it to you now.”

  The map sprang up on Arland’s HUD. She flicked it off to one side.

  “Thanks, Jax.”

  “No worries.” The young engineer cut the com channel.

  According to the map, they had a bit of a hike. The Neural Processing centre was toward the middle of the base, next to the central dry-dock facility – pressurised maintenance bays, according to the maps, large enough for a Terran cruiser. Stars, the scale of this place was something else. It really hammered home the size disparity between them and the Terrans.

  ◊◊

  Hale followed Grayson and the others through an arched doorway into a grand chamber. High, vaulted ceilings rose above them into darkness. In her memory, golden light glinted off bronze statues below crimson velvet. Now, shadows crowded into the arched alcoves hiding the remains of the statues. The hall of heroes, faded and broken like everything else here.

  “Who are they?” Fyffe asked.

  Hale picked up a head, its face almost worn smooth and featureless, even so, she knew who it was. She knew all of them by heart, even before the memory treatments. “Explorers, war heroes. All the very best of us.” She turned the head over. “This was Horatio, the first human to perform an inter-system jump.”

  Hale dropped the head with a hollow thunk, watching it roll back into the shadows. Lost to time and darkness. She thought she’d come to terms with it – the loss, and guilt – but being back here brought it all back, full force. Everyone, everything she’d cared about turned to dust and scattered to the winds. Maybe not literally, but in a way that would have been easier than standing here, in the monument to the fallen.

  “Science wing should be just ahead.”

  Fyffe glanced down at her flex. “The power signature we detected is close.”

  The doors had originally been frosted glass. One was completely shattered, the other had a spider web of cracks running across it. Tree roots as thick as her arm twined through the broken glass.

  The SDF marines forced the broken doors apart, the motors in their armour exuding a soft humming with every movement. It might be quiet enough by modern standards, but it was like a swarm of wasps buzzing around her.

  Grayson and Fyffe led them into the science wing. The air was still and musty, dust lying thicker here than elsewhere. So much for the hermetic seals. Their m
ovements stirred the dust, she could feel its cloying dryness on the back of her throat. She envied the others for their full helmets and re-breathers.

  Ahead of them, something moved in the darkness, followed by the high warbling cry, almost like a child’s scream.

  The Turned. Hale snapped her rifle up, the magnetic launcher humming to life. Its buzzing matching her adrenaline. Just breathe.

  Grayson and Ellis’s attention snapped forward, their own weapons aimed into the darkened corridor. Their helmet lights twined through the gloom as they searched for the source of the sound. Dangling cables caught the light and dust motes fell through the panning torch beams.

  Something moved off to the right and the team’s weapons snapped toward it.

  The Turned came screaming out of the darkness, its claws ripping into Ellis’s armour. Hale strafed around the pair, trying to get a good angle on the creature.

  With a grunt of effort and the hum of motors, Ellis heaved the Turned off him. Hale stepped in, too close to use the long rifle. She whipped the butt at its chest, batting it off the rangy trooper. The creature thrashed back to its feet, scampering away. Grayson’s gun fired with a whip-crack and a whickering of the flechette in flight. The blast took the creature’s leg off.

  Hale frowned after the retreating creature. All the ones she’d encountered before had been more aggressive. They never retreated.

  “Come on,” Grayson said, his voice sounding tinny through Hale’s earpiece. “Let’s see if we can find an intact lab before that thing comes back.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t have any mates,” Ellis said, scanning the darkness. His armour had a pair of deep scratches in the chest plate, but it didn’t look like the claws had gone all the way through.

  They moved further into the science wing. Gurneys lined the walls, medical equipment crowded around. Some of the gurneys still had the last traces of human remains on them, little more than scraps of bone and parchment skin. Or in some cases nothing more than brown stains. Looking around, Hale could practically hear the cries of the dead and dying. This was the most defensible facility on the planet. It would have been where they made their last stand.

  But if that was true there should have been more people. More bodies. What the heck had been going on here?

  They moved into the next room. Their torch beams glinted off the twisted frames of overturned gurneys and trolleys as they searched the shadows. Dark brown stains painted the floor and walls.

  Hale traced her fingers over a deep gouge in the wall. A trio of claw marks, deep enough to go almost all the way through the reinforced blockwork.

  “Got a locked door here,” Ellis said, his laser sight dancing over a pair of heavy security doors.

  Hale moved to join the others by the door.

  With a scream, the Turned lunged from a service hatch, its gait ungainly where it had lost a leg to Grayson’s flechette. It lashed out with a big swing, scattering the marines and driving them back from the door.

  The troopers raised their bulky rifles and fired without hesitation. The Turned danced aside. Taking a shot to the side. It collapsed, crying out in pain.

  Pain flashed through Hale’s mind. For a moment she was on the floor, bleeding out, the impassive, armoured forms of the humans looking down on her. The naked hatred mixed with fear in their eyes terrified her. But not as much as what was on the other side of the door.

  No, don’t–

  The whip-crack of Grayson’s rifle echoed through the room and the Turned’s thoughts abruptly stopped.

  ◊◊

  Don’t open it. Leave it locked away.

  A whisper drifted through Dannage’s mind, faint, almost indistinct amongst his own thoughts, but insistent.

  Dannage looked up through the Folly’s cupola at the rust-red planet. He tracked the shaft of the space elevator to a ringed city big enough to see without enhancements.

  Hale was down there. In the ashes of her own past. He didn’t want to think about it. But at least it distracted him from worrying about Arland and Luc, running into danger to save his sorry ass, again.

  Come to me. Before it’s too late.

  Stars. The voice was clearer now. Like frost against his thoughts.

  He brought up the HUD enhancements, scanning the wreckage around them, looking for some sign. His eyes tripped from one wreck to the next. The whole system was a veritable starship graveyard. How the heck where they supposed to find anything in all that?

  It’s not out there, is it? He knew where it was coming from, he just didn’t want to think about it.

  He punched the com switch. “Jax, scan the station for energy signatures.”

  “Looks like the station is powering up in response to our presence,” Jax replied. “Am I looking for anything in particular?”

  That was the question. What was he looking for? There was something in there, watching him, reaching out to him. But he had no idea what it was. Whether it was even something he wanted to find. Images of giant jaws closing around his head flashed through his mind.

  “Captain?” Jax’ voice held a hint of concern.

  “Sorry. I’m not sure. Maybe a core-mind. Is there anything active docked with the shipyard?” But it didn’t feel like the Terran ships. It felt older, larger somehow.

  “I’ll see what I can find.” The rattle of Jax’ keyboard started as she cut the com channel.

  Vaughn entered with a hush of doors. “Have you heard from the others?”

  Dannage shook his head. He hoped they were okay. Hoped they’d found Hale’s Neuro-thingy. There were no signs of Turned on the station – But that voice – something was over there.

  He flipped through the HUD enhancements, nothing on thermal. Energy readings were rising across the station.

  His hand hovered over the com controls, aching to contact Arland and the ground team. They should know.

  They weren’t alone.

  ◊◊

  Arland moved through the station, weapon ready, senses alert for danger. The station interior was empty and undamaged. Maybe they’d got lucky. Or maybe the Turned were waiting. She almost wished they’d attack and get it over with. Waiting was the worst part. The whole universe holding its breath around her.

  “Arland?” Dannage’s voice over the com made her start.

  She reached out steadying herself on the wall. “Damn-it, Dannage. Don’t do that.”

  “Sorry,” Dannage replied. “Look. There’s something on the station with you. You need to be careful, or even better, get the hells out of there.”

  “We haven’t got the Neural Sculptor yet. What is it? Turned? Can you direct us around them?”

  “No,” Dannage said. “I’m not seeing anything on scanners, Jax is doing her thing. But there’s… Stars, I don’t know. This voice. I’m sure it’s there, with you.”

  The fear in his voice was enough to shake Arland. “Don’t worry, sir. We’re nearly to the Neural Processing Centre. We’ll grab it and bug out. Easy.” And if she said it enough, she might event believe it herself.

  “Okay.” Dannage didn’t sound any more convinced than Arland, but he cut the com channel.

  She looked over at Hut and Luc, they’d both heard the conversation.

  “Easy, right,” Hutch said. “Right up until something tries to eat your arm.”

  Arland chuckled, the joke breaking the tension of the moment.

  The Neural Processing Centre was just up the next flight of stairs. Arland and Hutch started up the wide staircase. Luc struggled up the slightly too high steps a beat behind them. At the top of the stairway, a pair of security doors blocked their path, its surface pockmarked with bullet holes.

  That was different.

  Breathing hard, Luc joined them by the door, after a moment he reached into his pack and came up with a door jack. Arland couldn’t quite see how the small, human-operated jack would fare against the heavy doors. But it was worth a go.

  Hutch dropped back, covering their six, as Luc a
nd Arland worked a jack into the seam between the doors. With a grunt of effort and a whine from the armour’s power assist, Arland forced the blades between the doors and started jacking them apart. Even with the added strength of the armour, it was hard work and by the time the doors were far enough apart, she was slick with sweat and breathing hard.

  Arland led them into the room, going right and trusting Hutch to cover the left side.

  The far end of the room was dominated by glass tubes filled with an orange liquid and… Oh, Stars. It was just like the Binaries. Like bloody Craven’s lab. Brains hung suspended in the tubes. Still preserved after all this time. The wretched core of the Terran military. Their ultimate undoing. Slaved minds.

  “Arland,” Luc called, drawing her attention to the centre of the room and the equipment that dominated it. “I don’t think we’re takin’ this back to the ship.”

  A large tubular structure – maybe a metre across – descended from the ceiling to join with a complex halo ring, cables snaking from the halo to the consoles that ringed the structure. There was no way they were moving that.

  “Commander?” Hutch waved her over to a bank of windows that ran the length of the room. “You have to see this.”

  Lowering her rifle, Arland joined the marine at the windows. They looked out over a dry-dock bay. And it wasn’t empty.

  Stars, the ship was beautiful. Their view from above gave them a good look at its long, back swiped wings and stretched out engine modules that gave the impression of a swallow in flight. The hull shimmered with red iridescence. It was bigger than the other Terran ships Arland had seen before. A true Angel of battle.

  ◊◊

  The Turned’s final thoughts still rang through Hale’s mind. Fear mixed with duty. Stand guard. That was all that mattered. Hale shivered at the foreign emotions, touching fingers to her side, reassuring herself that she was alive and whole. She looked down at the dead Turned. It had stood guard here for thousands of years. Desperate to keep people out. Or was it to keep something in?