Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4)

by Anthony James

  Fulcrum Gun

  Savage Stars Book 4

  Anthony James

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  End

  Other Science Fiction Books by Anthony James

  © 2020 Anthony James

  All rights reserved

  The right of Anthony James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent purchaser

  Illustration © Tom Edwards

  TomEdwardsDesign.com

  Chapter One

  For a time after the Meklon battleship Fulcrum entered lightspeed, taking its passengers far from the Lavorix Galactar, the bridge remained in comparative quiet. The ternium drive hummed in the background and that was the loudest noise.

  At the main console, Captain Carl Recker’s mood was foul and he found it preferable to say nothing than to snap at the members of his crew. For their part, the crew were tense and played it safe by keeping their heads down and their eyes on the warship’s monitoring tools.

  On one of Recker’s console screens, a few lines of text from the Fulcrum’s tactical data files glowed gently, taunting him every time he read the words.

  Galactar.

  Depletion Burst. Missile storm. Particle Beam. Mode 3 Repeater. Extractor. Unknown. Unknown.

  Impervious to harm. Shielded.

  Even the Meklon knew little about their greatest opponent and now the Galactar was pursuing Recker and his crew across an area of space unknown to the Human Planetary Alliance – a section of the universe which had seen decades of war. The Galactar had turned the tide of this remote conflict in favour of the Lavorix and Recker somehow had to figure out a way to escape from the seemingly undefeatable spaceship.

  Holding in a sigh, he stood and stretched, trying to alleviate some of the tightness in his muscles. The injury to his upper arm, suffered on the Meklon space station Excon-1 was beginning to throb again and he gave it a rub, causing flakes of the Lavorix blood which caked his gauntlets and forearms to fall to the bridge floor.

  “Sir, we should plan,” said Commander Daisy Aston quietly. She looked tired, as they all did.

  “I know, Commander,” said Recker, giving himself a mental kick. People were relying on him and he couldn’t let them down.

  “And you should go and see Corporal Hendrix, sir. About that gauss wound.”

  “It’s just a scratch.” He rubbed it again and grimaced. “I’ll do it later.”

  Recker felt a yawn coming and he stifled it. He needed rest more than anything and a few hours in deep sleep was likely do wonders for his optimism. The tiredness was also making him feel the chill air of the bridge more acutely and wasn’t helping him deal with the pain either.

  “Twenty-three hours and we’ll arrive at wherever it is we’re going,” Recker said, checking the journey timer on his console. They’d entered lightspeed less than an hour ago. It seemed like much longer.

  “Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Adam Burner confirmed. “I’ve been studying the Fulcrum’s star charts and we’re going to end up at a solar system containing nothing of interest to us. The Meklon mapped the place and that’s all.”

  “Empty space,” said Recker.

  “It’ll serve the purpose of putting distance between us and the Galactar,” said Lieutenant Ken Eastwood from the engine console.

  Recker dropped into his seat again. “For how long? That’s what I’d most like to know.”

  “We need to comb through the Fulcrum’s memory banks, sir,” said Aston. “And maybe there’s something useful on those data cubes we filled on Excon-1.”

  “There’s plenty to do,” said Recker. “If we’re not fresh, we’re going to make mistakes.”

  “Get some sleep,” said Aston. She smiled. “Four hours and not a minute longer.”

  “After that, I’ll work something out,” said Recker, unconsciously rubbing his arm again. “Something to get us out of this situation.” He pointed at Lieutenants Jo Larson and Larry Fraser. “Four hours for each of you as well.”

  They rose gratefully from their stations and left the bridge without anything more than an acknowledgement. Recker’s feet moved reluctantly for the door.

  “While you’re off shift I’ll do what I can to compile a list of target destinations, assuming we aren’t intending to stick around in the Tarjin-3 system,” said Lieutenant Burner, his curly hair even more unruly than normal. “And I might have a better idea of how the Meklon star charts tie in with our own.”

  “What he means is he’s going to spend four hours at the bridge replicator, seeing if it’ll vend him the Meklon equivalent of a cup of rough coffee,” said Aston.

  “Caffeine will help my focus, Commander.”

  Recker lifted a hand. “We’re only staying long enough in Tarjin-3 to warm up the ternium drive for a second time, Lieutenant. I hope the stop after that will be somewhere a little more useful.”

  He left the bridge and used the comms unit in his suit helmet to speak to Corporal Suzy Hendrix, who was the only medic for the forty-one humans and Daklan on the battleship.

  “There’s a medical bay on the Fulcrum, sir,” she said. “I’m checking out the equipment.”

  “Anything we can use?”

  “You’re probably not the best guinea pig. My med-box can deal with your arm.”

  Recent events had denied Recker the opportunity to fully explore the interior of the Fulcrum and he obtained directions from Hendrix. The battleship was filled with the same narrow corridors and cramped rooms that would be found on any Human Planetary Alliance equivalent and the soldiers hadn’t yet finished a thorough sweep to ensure the Lavorix presence was completely expunged.

  Recker doubted the enemy would find a place that was safe from the ceiling guns, but he nevertheless allowed Sergeant Vance and two other human soldiers to escort him. He reflected that they were human in shape only - their suits were smeared in blood and tiny pieces of Lavorix flesh from the recent storming of the Fulcrum, making them seem like flensed creatures from an alien world.

  The fight for the battleship hadn’t been more than a couple of hours ago, yet it already seemed like a distant memory. Still, the sights of carnage, along with the scent of blood and char, brought a renewed sense of fascinated wonder at the devastation inflicted upon the Lavorix.

  “We’ll get this cleared up, sir,” said Sergeant Vance, driving his foot casually into a bloodied four-armed corpse which had fallen across the corridor. “Once Sergeant Shadar and I are
sure the enemy are gone.”

  “The squads need to rest as well, Sergeant.”

  “They will, sir. When their work is done.” Vance was three steps ahead and he turned. “And in good time before this first lightspeed journey is over.”

  “Twenty-three hours,” said Recker. “I’m not intending to fight when we arrive, but I’d like to be ready for it.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  “What are the Meklon quarters like?” asked Recker, suddenly aware he didn’t have the faintest idea.

  “Not bad,” Vance conceded.

  “The beds have mattresses on them, sir, if that’s what’s got you worried,” said Private Wayland Steigers, bringing up the rear.

  “They stink,” said Private Nelle Montero. “Like they’re stuffed full of animal hair.”

  “I’m sure I’ll manage,” said Recker.

  The four of them entered a corridor leading to a secondary mess area. In sharp contrast to the primary mess, which had been comprehensively destroyed by recent fighting, the secondary room was mostly intact. With the squads still sweeping the spaceship in the hunt for Lavorix, it was empty apart from benches, tables and two replicator stations.

  “This way,” said Vance, indicating the left exit. “It’s messy.”

  At the end of the thirty-metre corridor, Recker was confronted by a pile of glistening flesh, bone and entrails, into which was mixed patches of dark grey material and broken guns. He didn’t have to look far to locate the ceiling minigun which was responsible for the deaths.

  “I reckon we might have been facing as many as three hundred Lavorix,” said Vance conversationally. “Probably more than we could handle.”

  “Nah,” said Steigers. “We’d have had them easy.”

  “Which reminds me, sir,” said Vance, taking a long stride over a pile of guts and heading right. “We expended plenty of ammunition taking this spaceship. The squads are well stocked with gauss slugs, but Gantry’s MG-12 is at half capacity, plus Raimi and Ipanvir are down to their last rocket magazines.”

  “You’re asking if we should look for an armoury on the Fulcrum,” said Recker.

  “We’ve located the armoury already, sir. I’m asking your permission to start pissing about with the hardware.”

  “Do what’s required, Sergeant. As long as nobody blows themselves up or does it to someone else.”

  “I’ll make sure, sir.”

  A short distance further Vance stopped at a closed door, which opened when he touched the access panel.

  “Here, sir.”

  Recker stepped across the threshold and the soldiers stayed outside. This was unmistakably a medical bay, cramped and with beds for four patients. A single, multi-purpose med-bot was attached to the ceiling and a runner allowed it to travel the length of the room. Recker sized up the device, with its multi-jointed arms ending in needles and scalpels, and thought it looked like something designed to scare children, rather than to repair injuries.

  Corporal Hendrix was facing the device and her fingers poked uncertainly at a keypad. Her helmet, rifle and med-box were on one of the beds and Recker noticed how she’d grown her hair long enough to tie it in short tail at the back.

  “Take a seat,” she said without turning. “As close to the med-box as you can.”

  Pushing Hendrix’s rifle aside, Recker perched himself on the edge of the bed. The mattress was covered in a plasticky material and softer than it looked. He waited and Hendrix spent another few moments at the medical robot, pushing buttons and studying the lines of text which rolled up the display.

  As Recker watched Hendrix work he suddenly realized he liked her for more than just her competence and quick smile.

  Not a good time to be falling for the squad medic, Carl.

  “Do you have any confidence in that Meklon bot?” he asked.

  “No, sir,” said Hendrix, stepping away from it. “Maybe once I get some time to really study it. For the moment, I’ll stick with the tried and tested.” She pointed at the medical box. “That.”

  It took Recker a minute to wriggle his shoulder and arm out of his combat suit. The bullet wound was swollen, red and angry, though it didn’t look too serious.

  “Yup, going to need some treatment,” said Hendrix with a reassuring smile.

  “It hurts all the time,” said Recker, flexing the arm carefully.

  “I’m afraid it’s a definite amputation, sir.” She winked at him.

  “Well do it quickly,” said Recker. “I’ve only got four hours off-shift and I’ve got to fit in some sleep.”

  She peered at him with concern. “Your eyes look bloodshot. I’d normally suggest a booster, but I know what you’ll say to that.”

  “Boosters are only useful when you know how long you’ll need them, Corporal. Once I start, I won’t be able to control my sleep patterns – not until things settle down.”

  “It’s your decision, sir.” She brightened suddenly. “Actually, in the medical bay, I kind of outrank you.”

  Recker laughed. “You’re going to order me to take a shot?”

  She wrinkled her nose in apparent thought and her dark eyes sparkled. “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. If I think you’re hiding anything from me, I won’t go so easy on you.”

  “I believe you.”

  For all its basic appearance, the medical box was a sophisticated piece of kit, capable of repairing many battlefield wounds if they were treated quickly enough.

  “Let’s try this,” said Hendrix, pulling a flexible metal hose from a slot in the med-box. At the end of the hose was a six-inch grey cylinder. “Ready?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer and pressed the cylinder gently against the furrow in Recker’s skin. He felt a tingling and an odour reached his nostrils that was part burning skin, part burning rubber and entirely unpleasant.

  While the medical device patched up the wound with artificial skin, Recker kept his attention on Hendrix.

  “Done.” She straightened and allowed the hose to retract into the medical box. “Feel better?”

  “Still hurts,” he said, pushing his arm back into the suit.

  “The injury’s gone, but force healing tends to leave the flesh with a memory. I guess you’ll know that already.”

  Recker nodded and slid off the bed. He stood in front of Hendrix for a moment and she held his gaze.

  “Thank you, Corporal. I’ll see you around.”

  “You know where to find me.”

  Unsure if he should have said something more, Recker exited the medical bay, where he found his escort waiting.

  “Anything to report, Sergeant?” he asked. Having taken his suit helmet off during treatment, Recker had been off comms.

  “No sign of hostiles, sir. We’re hunting through what we believe are the last of the maintenance passages. After that?” Vance swung his boot at a severed Lavorix arm on the floor nearby. “Then we can do something with these bodies.”

  Vance led Recker the short distance to the part of the Fulcrum given over to quarters. Recker was so tired he didn’t pay too much attention and entered a small room furnished with a single bed. A piece of tech – maybe a communicator - was attached to one wall and a doorway led to the Meklon version of a toilet. With his exploring finished, Recker fell onto the mattress, this one being covered in a different material to the one in the medical bay. As Private Montero had said, it smelled like it was filled with natural hair, though the odour wasn’t so bad as she made out.

  Within moments, Recker was asleep.

  Chapter Two

  When his four hours were up, and following a partially successful attempt to scrub the blood from his spacesuit, Recker headed to the Fulcrum’s bridge. On the way, he learned that Sergeants Vance and Shadar had declared the battleship clear of enemy troops. It was a positive development and the clean-up of bodies was already underway, with the plan being to seal the Lavorix corpses in one of the furthest rooms. If the mission went on long enough, maybe they could eventu
ally be ejected into space.

  Recker was accustomed to taking short sleep breaks at inconvenient moments, but even so, he only felt marginally better for his downtime and it was an effort to stop himself from yawning all the time. Already he was looking forward to his next sleep break, which he was sure he could fit in before the Fulcrum exited lightspeed.

  Upon his arrival at the bridge, Recker was greeted by an exhausted crew who were eager to find themselves a place to rest. Larson and Fraser hadn’t required medical treatment, so they’d had longer in bed, though neither looked fresh.

  “Did you compile that list of possible destinations, Lieutenant Burner?” asked Recker as his comms man headed for the door.

  “Sort of, sir. I think I need to discuss it with you and Lieutenant Larson.”

  A look at Burner’s face was enough for Recker to understand that he wasn’t going to get much sense from the man. “Go. We’ll talk when you return.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Wait!”

  Burner halted. “Sir?”

  “Did you work out how to use the replicator?”

  “The results were unappetising, sir.”

  Burner, Eastwood and Aston disappeared, and Recker focused his mind on the situation. The short sleep wasn’t enough, but he could concentrate better than before. He made a few discoveries and he skimmed Burner’s list of possible destinations. It seemed preferable to discuss everything once his crew were all on duty.

  Four hours later, they returned, whereupon Recker took himself, Fraser and Larson off duty for a second time. Opportunities for rest didn’t always arise at a convenient time and it was best to grab them whenever possible. After another four hours sleep, Recker felt much improved and the pain in his arm had receded to an irritation. His mind was back to its usual sharpness and he was desperate to spend time with his crew discussing the future. Unfortunately, fairness dictated that Aston, Burner and Eastwood should also have a second break, leaving Recker to stew in frustration as they headed off once more.