Starbound (Lightship Chronicles)

by Dave Bara

“Is that an eye?” I said aloud.

  “Looks like it, sir,” said Marker reluctantly. I ordered Babayan and another squad of five marines forward. Together we bathed the object in light with our lanterns.

  It was a head. A human-looking head, but clearly made out of metal and laying on one side of its face. It had to be ten meters tall. The head was cut off at the neck, which was singed and burnt, its twisted metal protruding and sticking to the left wall. To the right, there looked to be an opening that humans could squeeze through between the head and the outer wall of the corridor.

  “This is a mechanism, a humanoid automaton of some kind, but on a scale . . . it would have to have been fifty meters tall, at least,” I said. Marker lit up his light to max and went to the ceiling.

  “Plenty of space for it in here,” he said. “The ceiling is twice that high.”

  “Do we go forward?” asked Babayan. I hesitated only a second.

  “We do,” I said, “Those are our orders. Survey and catalog.” Then I switched back to the unit com and ordered the marines through the “hole” near the wall. I squeezed through behind Marker and Babayan, determined to stay closer to the front the rest of the way.

  We walked through what could only be described as a corridor clearly blasted through the body of the fallen machine. We went on this way for nearly seventy meters as we weaved and ducked through the broken machinery. The mechanisms that we saw inside the “body” of the automaton were so advanced as to be indecipherable, to me anyway, and I fancied myself as a bit of a technology buff. What we were looking at was very ancient, that much was clear, and had been frozen by the vacuum of space for a long, long time. When we finally reached the end of the machine’s body, we encountered something even more disturbing.

  Dead bodies. Many hundreds of them, in space suits. I ordered a squad to both our left and right to investigate while Marker, Babayan, and I took our own survey, our digital recording equipment taking in as much as possible. The bodies inside the suits were black with age and desiccation, and some had undoubtedly decayed inside their suits while they maintained some environmental integrity. Others were nothing more than dead bones or large piles of ash, indicating they had been vaporized. The one distinguishing mark on all these men was the gold stripe of the Imperial Marines on their black helmets. A pitched battle had been fought here, and the Imperial Marines, the best fighters the First Empire had to offer, had lost.

  Beyond the battle scene there was an empty chamber with no doors nor any other remaining mechanism.

  “Reconnoiter that chamber,” I ordered, more to get our marines out of shock and awe and back into action. I switched to the command com channel and took up a position facing Marker and Babayan.

  “What the hell is this place?” asked Marker. I looked to both of my marine commanders, and made a decision.

  “I can’t tell you at the moment, Sergeant,” I said.

  “That’s bullshit!” said Babayan, then followed after a beat with a pointed “sir.”

  “These are Imperial Marines,” said Marker. “This battle must have happened hundreds of years ago. And that thing, that robot, what technology is that?”

  I shook my head. “Again, I can’t tell you.” At this Babayan started to protest but I cut her off. “That doesn’t mean I don’t have my suspicions. I do. But I’m not authorized to share that information at the moment. Stay ready. Let’s assess the situation so that we can report back to the captain.” Then I ordered them off to command their squads while I switched to the longwave com and called up Serosian.

  “What have you got, Peter?” came his low baritone through my earpiece.

  “Just what you see from your monitors, several hundred dead marines. Imperial Marines. There was a battle fought here, a long time ago. Are you still reading active energy from this place?” I asked.

  “We are, but it is general in nature and we’re unable to pin it down directionally other than to say it is several decks above you. Do you see any way to go up?” he replied.

  “Not yet. And that energy field isn’t showing up on any of our monitors here. Is it possible it’s some form of Founder or First Empire shielded stealth tech?”

  “Very possible,” said Serosian. “Be cautious, Peter.”

  “That word is not in our vocabulary. I’ll report in again when we’ve found a way up,” I said, then dropped the line. The longwave chewed up more energy from my EVA suit than the regular com, but it also provided much needed privacy, and the signal would travel through any known stealth field.

  I went up to Marker and Babayan.

  “What have you got?”

  “Come take a look,” said Marker. I followed them both up to the chamber, which I could see was not a chamber at all but an empty lifter shaft that dwarfed what I had seen on the Imperial dreadnought we had destroyed at Altos. And that one was massive.

  “Look down,” said Babayan. I walked to the edge. The empty shaft went down hundreds of meters into the dark. As I flashed my helmet lantern down the shaft I could see it was filled with more dead bodies of Imperial Marines, piled on top of each other.

  “Careful,” said Babayan. “The shaft from this level up appears to be a zero gravity zone. If you toss something in it floats, but if you throw it just a few meters down, the gravity is active and the item will get heavy again and fall.” I reached over and grabbed an empty Imperial Marine helmet and threw it down the shaft. It moved slowly against the zero-G field and then accelerated onto the pile of detritus far below once it hit the gravity well.

  My next decision would be critical. If we continued up, we might find out what this battle was all about and discover the source of the energy field. Safety dictated, however, that we withdraw. I called Commander Kierkopf on the command com channel and explained the situation, which she would no doubt be aware of from monitoring our unit cams.

  “Serosian reports the energy source is still active, and it’s up there, on the decks above us,” I said. “Request permission to proceed to the source with an exploratory squad.”

  “Denied, Commander,” she said. “Be practical. You have one hour and forty minutes of environment left in your suits. I doubt that’s enough time to properly investigate. And ancient or not, these remains give me pause. Quite frankly, they scare me, as they should you.” She was taking a hard line, which I respected, and reminding me of my duty to the marines. Nonetheless, we were here for a reason.

  “Request permission to take up a single squad and Sergeant Marker to at least attempt to identify the energy source, sir,” I said. The line stayed silent for a moment longer.

  “Also denied,” she said, with a professional finality that seemed inflexible.

  That upset me. We were here to explore, and my intuition told me the answers to this mystery lay with that unknown power source. “XO, we came here for a reason. If you’re not going to let us investigate the energy source then why did we come to this station in the first place?” I argued.

  “I’m not convinced of the safety of this expedition, Commander,” she replied. “And you and your force’s safety is my primary responsibility.”

  “Then I request environmental supplies be sent over so that we can revise and extend our mission under pertinent safety protocols,” I said. I was pressing her. With each of my requests I knew it would be harder to say no, and I wanted to find out more about what had happened here.

  “The captain advises we are already pressing our schedule and deviating from our primary mission objectives,” she said back to me.

  “All the more reason to at least send up a small team to investigate,” I said. “And quickly.”

  There was another moment’s hesitation. Then, “My answer is still no, Commander.”

  Now I was frustrated. What we had discovered here merited more exploration, and since we were already here and deployed . . .

  “Request
the captain make that decision, sir.” Now I was openly challenging her authority again, after I had promised I wouldn’t. That wouldn’t go over well on either a personal or a professional level. “Respectfully, sir, we are here, now. The shaft only looks to be a few hundred meters high. We can reconnoiter it in thirty minutes, max,” I said, making my final case. There was no response for a good thirty seconds, then Captain Maclintock’s voice came on the com line.

  “Six marines,” he said. “That’s including you and Marker. Colonel Babayan stays with the rest of the team and implements a safety protocol. If something bad happens I want a clear path back to your shuttles. Understood, Commander?”

  “Aye, sir,” I said, then cut the com and started barking orders. We had our window, and I was going to make sure we took advantage of it.

  I let Marker pick the four marines who would go up the lifter shaft with us. Once we had gathered together at the shaft entrance I left Babayan in command and ordered a line-of-sight dispersal all the way back to the shuttles. She wasn’t happy at being left out of the ascent, but we could only risk two command officers to explore the energy source, and I was definitely going to be one of those two. Besides, Marker was a great tactical fighter, and much better suited to the mission and its potential dangers than Colonel Babayan.

  I looked at our team. They were all very young in appearance. Marker had picked two Quantar marines: a female private named Jensen and a male named Horlock. The two Carinthians were a female private, Verhunce, who seemed too slight to be a marine to me, and a huge male named Rosler. Rosler was darker skinned, almost like an aboriginal descendant of Quantar, the first one I’d seen among the Carinthian marines. The Carinthians tended to be very Caucasian as a rule, which I supposed was due to their Austrian roots on Earth. There was some Asiatic influence in their bloodlines from the Mongol invasions of Europe more than a millennia ago, but it wasn’t as strong as the aboriginal Australian traces in some of our people, like Marker.

  One thing about our marine-issued EVA suits was that they enhanced and equalized physical strength so that no marine was stronger or more capable than any other, regardless of gender, bone density, stature, or any other variable. It brought us all up to about 125% of standard so that everyone pulled the same weight, literally.

  I looked to Marker. “How should we deploy, Sergeant?” I asked, deferring to his marine experience.

  “Horlock’s great with the jets, so he’ll go first. Then Rosler, Jensen, me, you, and Verhunce,” he said to our group, pointing to each of us in turn. I nodded agreement.

  Horlock went out into the zero-G well first, pushing off the deck and floating up slowly a few meters. We all watched as he ascended with short micro-bursts from his cone jets. He was by far the most skilled zero-G flyer I had ever seen, maneuvering up and back down to us at will, getting a feel for the shaft and any gravitational eddies there might be. Rosler came next, and then the rest of us in order. Horlock had to slow up several times so that we could stay a cohesive unit. I did my best to keep up, but it seemed as though everyone else in the group was better at flying than I was. I even got a push in the butt from Verhunce when I couldn’t get my ascent speed up fast enough.

  Within two minutes we were all rising slowly but steadily up the shaft, mostly together. Despite my assurances to Maclintock, the shaft seemed to go on forever. I measured our rise at one hundred meters in the first three minutes. Then Horlock began to pull away from the rest of us.

  “Hold up, Private!” yelled Marker to Horlock, who slowed, turned, and responded with a “Sorry, sir.”

  A second later and an energy weapon blast cut a hole in his chest the size of a football. The next shot took Rosler’s head off at the neck with a precision that was frightening.

  “Cover!” I yelled into the com, adrenaline rushing and my heart suddenly pounding as I pushed Verhunce down and back to the wall of the shaft. There were some metal support beams there that looked like they could provide some cover from the incoming fire.

  A second volley came, this time in multiple bursts, and we all scrambled to the walls, Marker returning fire as he jetted to the near side with Jensen. Verhunce and I were stuck to the far wall. I looked up and saw dark figures emerging from the mist, perhaps a hundred meters above us and descending quickly. From the glint of coil rifle fire off of their bodies they seemed undoubtedly made of metal. Automatons, and from the looks of them they could make quick work of us.

  “Fire at will!” I ordered, and the shaft lit up with an exchange of brilliant orange and green rifle fire. I ordered retreat back to the shaft entrance into my com just as a green volley skimmed past my head so close I could feel the heat through my helmet visor. I tried to order the retreat again, but got no answer.

  The main coms were knocked out. The automaton’s energy weapons had a disruptive effect on our com equipment, like an EMP burst. Whatever these damn things were, they were highly efficient. We came under heavy fire again from the advancing automatons as they propelled themselves down the shaft from high above us. I sent Marker a hand signal, ordering him to suppress and retreat with Jensen to the shaft entrance on my mark. He signaled back negative. I repeated the order, this time with emphasis. I got a reluctant affirmative. I switched to my low-frequency backup radio transmitter, primitive but effective within a range of about ten meters.

  “We’re falling back,” I said to Verhunce amidst the flashing din of the rifle fire. “Sergeant Marker and Private Jensen will cover us. When I give the signal, you go, full out jets for the deck. And when you get there warn Colonel Babayan that trouble is coming.”

  “I need to stay with you, sir,” she protested.

  “Negative, Private. You go first. I’ll be right behind you,” I said. The cacophony of energy fire was lighting up the entire shaft. I looked down to the deck floor and saw marines taking up firing positions near the opening. I wanted them to retreat, not cover for us, but at this distance my low frequency com was useless. I turned to Marker and gave the signal. He, Jensen, and I filled the lifter shaft with rifle fire.

  “Go,” I yelled to Verhunce. I saw her push off, making for the deck, her cone jet vapor spilling into my visor’s view. I signaled Marker again. Private Jensen was next. She pushed off and flew down the shaft, chasing after the weaving Verhunce. Then Marker gave me the signal and I went without hesitation, hoping that my friend was coming close behind me.

  I watched as Verhunce cleared the shaft and landed on the deck. I was closing on Jensen, and looked back to see Marker in turn closing on me. I was about to order Jensen to turn her jets toward the deck to slow down when a lance of green energy shot past me.

  “Shit!” I said and twisted around to look back up the shaft.

  I could now see a half dozen bronze-colored automatons coming down at us, firing all the way from perhaps fifty meters back. The way they were coming, this was going to be close. I hit my jets again and shot past Jensen, grabbing her arm on the way by. “Hang on!” I said. She nodded as Marker caught up to us and took her right arm from the other side.

  I nodded at Marker and we made one last course correction burst for the deck, then we both sent out max bursts to take us through the opening. About a half dozen marines, including Babayan, were standing on the deck about ten meters below us. A burst of green fire came very close to me and I flinched instinctively. When I looked back Marker was falling away from me, but still on course for the deck.

  Private Jensen had been sliced in half.

  I let go of her body in the shaft as I fell, heart pounding as Marker and I pierced the gravity field and fell onto the deck hard. I rolled and popped back up quickly. Babayan yelled to me over the low-band radio com.

  “How many?”

  “Half a dozen,” I replied. “But they’re very formidable.” She armed her rifle. I grabbed her by the arm.

  “No! We’re outgunned. Full retreat, Colonel, that’s an order!�
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  “But—”

  “No!” I insisted. “Look around you! Staying is suicide.” She looked around the deck at the piles of Imperial Marine bodies. Then I pushed her backward hard. She switched to the general com channel, which I couldn’t hear, and ordered everyone to fall back. I sent Verhunce up ahead to prep the shuttles.

  I looked back as we headed back into the path through the fallen robot. The first of the automatons was just touching down on the deck. I turned and ran.

  We’d be lucky to make it out of this alive.

  We dodged and ducked all the way back to the landing bay, the automatons in a deliberate and determined pursuit. The fire from their rifles frequently vaporized parts of the massive robot body as we ran through the channel. Their weapons were clearly superior to ours, as was their aim. Occasionally, they got one of my marines. My every instinct was to stop and help, or at least recover the body, but we had no time. If we did stop, we’d all be dead.

  When we got to the landing bay I counted twenty-six marines, including the pilots who were firing up the shuttle engines. I’d lost ten men and women so far. Too many.

  I frantically waved the marines back to their shuttles, then ran onto the nearest one. It was chaos. There was no time for grief, no time to even strap in. I ordered us off the deck immediately.

  I took a quick census and found that somehow Marker, Babayan, and I had all ended up on the same shuttle in the confusion. I was heading forward to the pilot’s nest where Babayan and Marker were already getting us away when I saw a green energy burst outside our window.

  I looked out and saw the second shuttle, the one I was probably supposed to be on, trailing a few dozen meters behind us as we accelerated off the deck. In the next instant three beams of green energy intersected on the shuttle’s hull. It was instantly vaporized. The explosive energy knocked us off our path, which is probably the only thing that saved us—a similar combined beam of energy intersected just seconds later in the space where we would have been.