The remainder of the journey to the first waypoint passed quickly. This was the first real opportunity to search – at full alertness - through the data recovered from Excon-1 and the data which was held in the Fulcrum’s own memory arrays.
With the passing hours, it became clear to Recker that he’d stolen plenty of vital data, but they were the kind of technical files that would bring happiness to teams of scientists and engineers, rather than to personnel far from their home base and in hostile territory. He didn’t lose hope, but he soon moved other tasks up the list of priorities.
At the arranged time, Lieutenant Eastwood cut the ternium drive and the Fulcrum entered local space. The usual scans were completed rapidly and under pressure, and found nothing of immediate concern. Recker hadn’t anticipated problems on arrival – his only concern was what might exit lightspeed behind them.
With the Fulcrum holding a steady 3800 kilometres per second, Recker ordered the ternium drive to be warmed up again. Nobody said much, though all eyes were on the sensor feeds.
“We’ve got to beat this thing,” said Eastwood, when the timer entered its final minute. “Even if we make it home safely, we’re going to spend the rest of our years watching over our shoulders.”
Recker knew exactly what he meant. Exposure to the Galactar wasn’t bringing the numbness of familiarity. Rather, its existence was worming itself into their heads, making them scared. They might make it home but would still in a way be defeated.
“We need a victory,” said Recker. “I don’t think we can beat the Galactar, but we’ve got to find a weakness – something that makes it seem vulnerable. We can take that back to the HPA as the ultimate prize so that when the Galactar shows up in our part of space, the conclusion won’t be forgone.”
“Because it’s coming,” nodded Larson. “Like it or not, that spaceship has enough technological advantages that they’ll find us if they’re determined enough.”
“The Lavorix are almost done with the Meklon,” said Recker. “We’ve seen what they’re like – they’re never going to be friendly to us, whatever the HPA says and does.”
“We’ll blow the crap out of them, sir,” said Burner enthusiastically. “With the help of the Daklan.”
Recker laughed. “That’s right, Lieutenant. We’ll find the Galactar’s weakness and we’ll build a weapon that can take advantage. After that, we’ll destroy their fleet.”
“And shit on the flaming wreckage,” said Fraser.
The conversation occupied worried minds long enough for the ternium drive to activate and the Fulcrum began the journey towards the second waypoint.
“This time we’re cutting off at fifteen hours,” said Burner.
“I’m entering the details into the simulator, sir,” said Eastwood. “Let’s see what crap it spits out.”
Recker ignored the cynicism and pretended he didn’t feel it himself. Instead, he waited the minute or two for Eastwood to finish.
“Another potentially good outcome, sir. This time, we’re at three hours before the Galactar is anticipated to recognize our course variation.”
Recker nodded in acknowledgement. “If the simulator is reliable, we gained an hour.”
“And we shouldn’t need much time at the return transmission point,” said Burner. “I’d like to say things are looking up, but I’ll keep my mouth closed.”
“That’s a great idea, Lieutenant,” said Aston.
The next fifteen hours passed quickly. Recker took his turn off duty and caught up with some sleep. After that, he visited the primary mess area. The last time he’d been here it was filled with scrap, bodies, blood, and spent ammunition. Now, it was slightly improved and the soldiers had carried semi-intact furniture from elsewhere, allowing them to sit. Not only that, the life support had cleansed the air, leaving it with a metallic tang which was infinitely preferable to the odour of burned Lavorix.
“Sir, you’ve got to try this!” said Private Ken Raimi loudly from one of the nearby tables.
Wondering what he was getting into, Recker approached the table which was also occupied by Corporal Hendrix, Private Eric Drawl and Private Alise Haley. Nearby, Daklan and human soldiers were mixing like they’d shared a thousand engagements fighting on the same side, rather than being recent, bitter enemies.
“What’s that?” asked Recker, staring at Raimi’s tray. On it, a pile of green mush glistened and lumps of brown matter protruded from the surface like turds bobbing in a sewer.
“Meat stew, sir. I thought Sergeant Vance told you about it on the Vengeance.”
“I tried a bite and didn’t like it.”
“This is the new and improved version, sir.”
Not one to back down from a challenge, Recker sat and scooped a spoonful into his mouth. The paste was warm and the brown lumps chewy. He’d eaten worse.
“Needs seasoning.”
“You should wash it down with this, sir,” said Corporal Hendrix. She grinned at him and slid over a metal cup filled with a thick, treacly fluid.
“Dare I ask?”
“Best not to, sir,” said Hendrix, the grin even wider.
“Give it here.”
Recker took a confident sip. The fluid was reluctant to descend into his stomach and clung to his gullet, imparting a faint burning sensation at the same time. He experienced a brief giddiness and the burning turned into a comforting warmth.
“We call it alien crap,” Drawl confided. He indicated the contents of Raimi’s tray. “That’s alien crap too.”
“I’ll take your word for it, Private.”
“Drawl’s been working on his vocabulary, sir,” said Hendrix. “Calls himself a walking dictionary now.”
“Everyone else just calls him an asshole,” said Raimi around a mouthful of alien crap.
Feeling hungry, Recker headed to the nearby replicator and considered his options. He wasn’t tempted by the meat stew, but he’d learned a few of the menu options. He chose a plate of nearly-steak, accompanied by almost-potatoes, along with a cup of whatever it was Hendrix had been drinking – once he’d been assured it wasn’t going to leave him falling-down drunk and with a subsequent steaming hangover.
Drawl and Raimi got up to go, while Hendrix stuck around. She didn’t mention anything about suicide drugs and Recker didn’t ask. The mess wasn’t a place to talk about work – at least not the shittier elements of it.
“Have you had a rethink?” he asked.
Hendrix blinked and he could tell she guessed the unspoken words. She asked anyway. “About what?”
“About whether it was a good thing to be assigned to a Carl Recker mission.”
“Now that we’re totally lost and with a technological monstrosity coming to suck our brains dry?” She shrugged but couldn’t entirely keep the smile away. “I’d rather be drinking in a Daklan bar.”
“We’ll all be drinking in one twelve months from now.”
“I didn’t say it would be a bad thing.”
“Maybe I’ll join you for one. When it happens.”
“You’re welcome anytime.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “Just don’t believe a word these guys tell you. Every one of them has got a taller tale than the one before it.”
“Who mentioned company?”
If Hendrix was surprised, she hid it well. “I’d like that.”
And it was done. Recker smiled. “Maybe if the Daklan bars are closed, we could try a different place.”
“You promised me a Daklan bar.”
Recker laughed. “I’ll see if I can pull some strings.”
He stayed at the table until his meal was finished. The conversation was comfortable and that was a relief, though he hadn’t thought it would be otherwise. None of the other soldiers asked to sit at the table and Recker didn’t bother wondering if it was by accident or design.
With his off-duty time over, he headed back to the bridge. He felt buoyed by his time with Hendrix and, though he couldn’t be diverted from the mission, he neverthel
ess felt much of the tension ebbing away. He hoped it would lead him to clearer thought.
When the waypoint neared, Recker gave the order and the Fulcrum exited lightspeed. This time, the sensor reports did not come back clear.
Chapter Seven
“We came out right on top of a planet. Again,” said Burner.
“That’s a habit we need to get out of,” said Eastwood.
The underside arrays were focused directly on a cold, rocky sphere. The miss wasn’t as near as the one with the gas giant, but – at ninety thousand kilometres - it was far too close for comfort.
“I’m waiting for the sensors to calibrate, sir. Once that’s done, we’ll know our position in the Meklon star charts and we’ll be able to head for the third waypoint.”
“No rush,” said Aston. “We’ve got a whole three hours before the Galactar arrives.”
“Not quite, Commander,” said Eastwood. “That’s three hours with the percentage set to…” He caught sight of her expression and closed his mouth.
Larson swore loudly. It was something she didn’t do often and it was enough to get Recker’s attention.
“Lieutenant?” he asked sharply.
“We’ve received a comms message – a warning,” she said. “From a surface facility.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s a code, sir. I’m checking out what it means.”
“Lieutenant Burner – find that installation.”
“Yes, sir. If it’s visible side, I’ll get it up on the sensors.” Burner muttered to himself for a couple of seconds. “Got it!”
One of the feeds snapped into focus and Recker stared at the discovery. An eighty-kilometre square of the planet had been clad in alloy and, in the centre, an empty, thirty-kilometre construction trench was surrounded by neatly arranged supplies and materials. He saw sheets of armour, engine modules, and enormous crates ready to be unpacked. When Recker narrowed his eyes, he could make out smaller grey dots which he guessed were lifter shuttles and other vehicles used in the building of a spaceship.
In the areas not taken up by the trench, dozens of spaceships were parked in rows. From overhead, it was difficult to be certain, but Recker thought he was looking at transports, along with a handful of mid-sized warships.
Hundreds of structures ran along the landing field perimeter. These structures were of all shapes and sizes, some of them immense warehouses, doubtless used as materials stores for whatever was built in the trench. Recker also spotted the tell-tale signs of missile emplacements, not only amongst the buildings, but embedded in the rocky surface all around.
Had the Fulcrum not been recognized as a friendly ship, he felt sure it would have been the target of an intense bombardment – probably one that would have overwhelmed the battleship before its sensors had come back online after exiting lightspeed.
“What’ve we found?” said Aston.
“I don’t know, Commander.”
“Sir, the warning code is an evacuation reminder,” said Larson. “It’s been broadcasting for almost five years.”
“Our sensors have calibrated with the local stars, sir,” said Burner. “This planet – this entire system – isn’t even in the Meklon charts.”
Recker added everything up. “A secret base from which the Meklon hoped to escape the war,” he said, not taking his eyes off the installation below. “They built an interstellar in that trench – something big enough to carry a few billion people far away from the Lavorix. Those parked transports brought in the passengers.”
“The evacuation code is highest priority, sir,” said Larson. “They left in a hurry.”
“The Lavorix were coming,” said Recker.
“I’ve found something else, sir,” said Burner, an edge to his voice. “See this.”
On a full-zoom feed aimed at an area near the trench, Recker saw dozens of tiny shapes.
Not shapes. Bodies.
“No obvious cause of death, sir,” said Burner. He panned the view left, revealing more bodies.
“Can you enhance?” asked Recker, getting the same feeling he’d experienced on the Excon-1 station when he’d discovered many Meklon, all dead and all with expressions of pain and horror locked into their faces.
“I can’t get you much clearer than you’re looking at.”
“It’s probably for the best.” Recker shook his head. “Check if there’re signs of life elsewhere on the base.”
“I can’t see any, sir. That doesn’t mean none exists.” Burner cursed. “Oh damn.”
The underside sensor was fixed on a different area, again near the construction trench. There were more bodies, only this time it wasn’t dozens, hundreds or even thousands. An extensive area, at the north end of the trench was carpeted in Meklon, in numbers beyond counting, their limbs twisted and their faces mercifully hidden by distance.
“How many?” said Aston quietly.
She wasn’t looking for an answer, but Recker felt obliged to give voice to the magnitude of the disaster. “Millions, Commander. Killed without mercy by the Lavorix.”
“What weapon is this?” asked Larson, her voice trembling. “Something that can murder so many without injury.”
“The Galactar,” said Recker. He felt a twinge in his guts. “Or something like it.”
“We’ve led the enemy here,” said Aston. “To a place they’ve already been and finished with.”
Recker knew he couldn’t have handled the responsibility of drawing the Galactar here if the people on the base had been alive, yet he couldn’t be remotely content that they were already dead. The weight of it threatened to crush him – events that might have been but had not come to pass. He gritted his teeth and scraped them together.
“Turn off that feed. I’ve seen enough,” Recker snapped. “Check elsewhere on the installation to see if there’s anything useful to us.”
“Sir.”
The shock, perhaps combined with adversity, brought an idea.
“Are any of those parked ships online?” asked Recker, tearing his gaze from the now blank screen.
“All of them are running at idle, sir,” said Fraser.
Recker rubbed his long stubble and felt it crackle beneath his palm. “What would happen if we flew those ships under remote guidance and sent them to lightspeed at the same time as we completed a transit?”
“To create so many trails that the Galactar would lose track of us?” asked Eastwood. “I can’t tell you if it’ll work. In theory it sounds like an excellent idea. In practice, the Galactar might be able to pick up the right trail as easily as if we’d left a signpost.”
“We’ve got nothing to lose by trying. I think we can risk a few minutes.”
“Anything’s better than keeping our fingers crossed and hoping,” said Aston.
“Lieutenant Burner – contact the base mainframe. Learn what you can about this facility and see if you can persuade the flight controller to hand over those spaceships.”
“I’ll continue sweeping the area,” said Larson.
Recker prepared himself for a wait and he kept himself occupied by flying the battleship in a circle, directly over the Meklon facility and at a ninety-thousand-kilometre altitude. As efficient as ever, Burner completed his task within two minutes.
“Good news and bad news, sir. The good news is that the flight controller will cede the transports. The bad news is that it won’t give up the warships. There might be a protocol we can exploit in the circumstances of the whole base being wiped out, but it might take time to convince the mainframe.”
“Leave it for the moment. What else have you learned?”
“An interstellar, carrying two-point-three billion Meklon, lifted up from the base and entered lightspeed an hour before the Galactar arrived. Then, the Lavorix targeted something called an Extractor at the facility. The ground emplacements launched but failed to drive off the attack.”
“An Extractor,” said Recker. “That’s one of the weapons listed in the Fulcrum
’s data files on the enemy warship.”
“And this is what the weapon does,” said Aston. “Wipes out life.”
“Why that weapon and not another?” asked Larson. “It’s not as if the Lavorix have occupied the base. Why not drop a high explosive from orbit?”
It was a question Recker hadn’t considered. “Maybe the Lavorix will return,” he said. A whispering voice suggested that perhaps the enemy had a different reason for utilising the Extractor, though this voice offered no guesses as to why.
“Did the Galactar follow the interstellar?” he asked.
“The flight controller is aware of the Galactar entering lightspeed thirty minutes after wiping out everyone on the base. It cannot confirm if this was pursuit or if the Lavorix were heading elsewhere.”
“What was the interstellar’s destination?”
“That information is classified, sir. I guess the Meklon were concerned about Lavorix infiltration of their comms, so they kept everything locked down.”
“Is it important for us to find out?” asked Eastwood.
“It might be, Lieutenant,” said Recker, tapping his fingers on his console. “The Meklon would be going to a place they considered safe.”
“If it were me on that interstellar and my whole species was threatened by extinction, I’d want it to remain at lightspeed for years. Decades, even,” said Burner.
“And maybe that was their plan,” said Recker. He grimaced. Everything about this spoke of desperation on the part of the Meklon. As far back as five years ago they knew the game was up and decided to head for the stars.
“Sir, time is passing,” said Aston.
“I know it, Commander. I feel there’s an opportunity here – beyond that offered by these Meklon transports – and I’m trying my damnedest to think what it might be.”
“I’ve asked the base mainframe plenty of questions and it isn’t offering up answers, sir,” said Burner. “It’s possible it doesn’t even know the interstellar’s planned destination.”
“Do we really want to follow, sir?” said Aston. “If those Meklon escaped the Galactar once, they may not be so lucky a second time if we bring it after us.”
Fulcrum Gun (Savage Stars Book 4) Page 6
