Heading on, Vance noticed that almost all of the personnel had now stopped what they were doing and a few called out questions. Lacking answers, Vance repeated what he’d said to the Daklan technician moments earlier. “Suit up, folks, and grab your guns!” he bellowed through the chin speaker in his helmet.
Requesting another comms link to Captain Laney, Vance watched the acceptance light turn green. He heard a split second of white noise and then the link dropped, leaving the receptor grey and unreachable. Before Vance could curse, his earpiece hummed and Sergeant Tagra spoke on the officer channel.
“Sir, our initial entrance to North-12A opened to permit my exit, but will not allow me to return.”
“RL Moseley must have only given me access to the secure areas,” said Vance. “I’ll find him and have him update your security level.”
“I am currently locked outside, along with Private Mack.”
“Hold tight, Sergeant.” Vance quickened his pace and his eyes focused on the ingar reactor, where he expected to find RL Moseley. “Corporal Charnos, since our primary conduit for intel – that being Captain Laney - is no longer available, I’d like you to run a comms scan for warship receptors,” Vance ordered. “If you find one, keep requesting a channel until someone answers.”
“Yes, sir,” said the Daklan. On his back, he carried a sturdy pack containing a dedicated comms booster. Not only was this kit vastly more capable than the tiny units in a spacesuit, it could – in the right hands – perform a few other tricks which might come in useful.
“If there’s nothing in a visible arc, link to one of the comms satellites and see if you can learn something that way,” Vance continued.
Research Lead Moseley appeared from the far side of the reactor, about 120 metres away, and he hurried across to meet Vance, fumbling a lightweight grey helmet into place at the same time.
“Lieutenant, what news do you have?” he asked.
RL Moseley was about fifty years old, pale and gaunt, with dark hair and sunken eyes. He hadn’t looked much better when Vance had last seen him during better times, and he assumed Moseley was so involved in his work that sustaining his body came a distant second on his priority list.
“I was hoping you might have some,” said Vance. He bared his teeth. “We’re under attack, RL Moseley. I don’t know for definite that it’s the Kilvar, but whoever it is, they’re here for a reason.”
“I believed our local fleet would keep us safe,” said Moseley. “Now I’m not so sure. There is only a single attacking warship, you know. When I first heard that, I wasn’t too concerned. We’ve got the Kantilvor up there.” He offered a weak smile. “I guess you don’t attack a more numerous opponent unless you’re confident of victory.”
“Confident or stupid,” said Vance. “But I don’t think we’re dealing with recklessness here.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Two of my soldiers are stuck outside and I’ve ordered my squads to secure the other entrances. Without access to come in and out of this area, they’re not going to be effective.”
“I can fix that,” said Moseley. He sat in front of a squat console nearby and entered a series of commands at lightning speed. “There, you should have free access to every area of the research building.”
“Thank you.” Vance switched channels. “Sergeant Tagra – you’re a scientist now. Find out if the door opens.”
“It opens,” said the Daklan after a moment’s delay.
“Sergeant Gantry, test your own access and let me know immediately if there’s a problem.”
“Will do, sir.”
“Well?” asked Moseley, evidently unsure who was Vance talking to.
“The increased access is working. Now, where’s the exium device?”
“Over that way,” said Moseley, pointing towards the ingar reactor. “We’ve been installing some modifications in order to…”
Vance cut him off. “Is there anything else on this facility that might be of interest to the Kilvar? Any other top-secret experimental work that would have drawn them here?”
“Not that I can think of, Lieutenant. Everything on Tibulon is geared to producing exium.” Moseley finally got his helmet fastened and he stared at Vance. “You believe these attackers have come for the device?”
“I don’t much believe in coincidence, RL Moseley. If the Kilvar were here to destroy the facility, we’d be dead by now.” Vance craned his neck towards the ingar reactor, but couldn’t see anything he thought might be the exium device. Elsewhere, there was plenty of activity as personnel scrambled for helmets and guns, as if the urgency of the situation was finally sinking in. Vance pulled his gaze back to Moseley. “I heard explosions and I’ve lost contact with pretty much everyone outside of this research building. I’d guess the enemy have taken out a few surface targets as well as the local fleet.”
“They can’t have the exium,” said Moseley defiantly. “We’ve worked for years to produce it and it’s ours.”
“Fine sentiments,” said Vance. He entered the squad channel. “Corporal Charnos, have you had a response from the fleet warships?”
“No, Lieutenant,” said Charnos. “None of the stationed ships are offering a comms receptor. They could be running silent, but there is no logical reason to hide from the Tibulon monitors.”
Vance cursed. “So we’re alone, for the time being at least.” He used his rifle to point at the comms pack Charnos was carrying. “Does that allow you to query the satellites? Maybe to find out why the local fleet hightailed it out of here? If we knew that, we’d have a better idea of whether or not they’re coming back.”
“The satellites do not hold that information, sir, and several of them are offline. I have requested a link to one of the active monitors to obtain a visual on our attacker. My access level is too low.”
“Thank you, Corporal.” Vance turned his attention once more to RL Moseley. He smiled thinly. “The local fleet is gone. Maybe they’ll return, or maybe they won’t.”
What little colour Moseley had in his face drained away. “The Kilvar will steal the prototype.” He blinked. “And then they might kill us.”
“That’s probably how the enemy have it planned,” said Vance, not one to sugar-coat the truth. He switched to officer channel. “Squads B and C, are you in position?”
“Squad B in position,” said Sergeant Tagra.
“Sir, we’ve only secured two of the doors,” said Sergeant Gantry. “The room is big…”
“As quickly as you can, Sergeant.”
During the brief pause, RL Moseley had evidently come to a realisation, which he shared with Vance.
“With the fleet gone and Captain Laney off comms, you’re the most senior fighting officer, Lieutenant Vance. And in a combat situation, you outrank everyone here.”
“So I do,” said Vance. He stared hard at Moseley. “If there’s an attack – and I’m sure there will be - I don’t want any of these personnel running into the line of fire.”
“Some of us can fight, Lieutenant.”
“I’m sure you all know how to fire a gun, RL Moseley, but it isn’t the same thing. Is there someplace you can lay low?”
“Underground,” said Moseley, waving vaguely towards the far corner of the room.
“There’s no underground level shown on the map,” said Vance.
“Oh, it’s classified. Let me fix that for you.”
Once again, RL Moseley entered commands into the nearby console. “Done.”
Vance called up the map again, which now contained details of a huge complex, far underground. He had no idea how he hadn’t picked up even a sniff of its existence. “What the hell do you do in there?” he asked.
“That’s where we superstress ternium and try to combine it with ingar.”
Vance knew a thing or two about the risks. “Won’t that produce a stasis field if you screw something up?”
“We take precautions, Lieutenant,” said Moseley. “Theoretically, a stasis field is only generated in the absence of ingar, or with
out the presence of sufficiently overstressed ternium modules which have been tuned to prevent the…” He stopped, as if he’d suddenly asked himself why he was explaining the technical details to a soldier. “The short answer is that the risks are low. Low enough that Fleet Admiral Recker was content for our research to happen on Tibulon.”
“That must be why the underground facility is labelled vault, and lined with four hundred metres of alloy.” said Corporal Charnos. “Because it is safe.”
Opening his mouth to respond, Moseley quickly changed his mind and closed it again. He waited to see what Vance would say next.
For a time, Vance said nothing and studied the updated map. Twin shafts – one personnel and one for cargo - descended ten thousand metres into the solid ground, linking the subterranean area with the research building. A single level contained rooms and corridors and below them was a cavernous space, lined with all that alloy and fitted with what Vance believed were several mesh deflector generators.
“Sir, alongside the map data, I have been given higher-level access to the local satellites,” said Charnos.
“Yes, that would be right,” said Moseley. “We’re fine-tuning the lightspeed tunnel detection hardware, so my scientists need to download the raw data from the monitor network.”
“I have a visual on our attacker, sir,” said Charnos.
“Stream it to my suit computer, Corporal. Make it available on the platoon channel.”
“Done.”
The satellite that Charnos had tapped was at an extreme oblique, allowing it to gather a profile view of the surface facility. Many buildings, including warehouses and the hoppers had been reduced to burning hot debris, which was scattered widely. Smoke and heat produced a shimmering distortion, though not nearly enough to conceal the huge warship hovering directly overhead.
“The Kilvar,” said Vance. The profile of the attacking vessel was aggressive and he didn’t like it one bit. “After all these years, the bastards finally showed up.”
It wasn’t easy to judge the exact positioning, but Vance thought the warship was directly above the research building, at an altitude of three of four thousand metres.
“They’re right on top of us,” he said. “They took out our spaceships and now they’re coming for us.”
Then, Vance spotted pinpoints of light prickling along the underside of the Kilvar spaceship. He knew what was coming, but he couldn’t do anything about it.
“Missiles!” he shouted.
A moment after launch, the missiles detonated, producing immense spheres of light on the satellite feed. The sound came in a rumble of blunt-edged thunder that was far too close for comfort.
“We aren’t dead!” yelled Private Raven above the din. She raised a middle finger and aimed it at the ceiling.
“Yeah, you missed!” shouted Drawl.
Vance called angrily for silence. The first volley hadn’t wiped them out – if it was even intended to – but he was sure it heralded the beginning of a concerted effort to recover the exium prototype. If the Kilvar wanted it, Vance was determined to make it as difficult as possible.
“Everyone move!” he shouted. “We’re going underground!”
With the order given, Vance grabbed hold of RL Moseley and dragged him across the room towards the ingar reactor.
Chapter Eight
The North-12A personnel were – at last - fully gripped by the urgency, and, with Vance and his squad yelling orders, they ran for one of the exits which was out of sight somewhere behind the ingar reactor.
“Sergeant Tagra, keep them moving,” said Vance. “Sergeant Gantry, do what you can to keep this area secure.”
“Yes, sir.”
“RL Moseley, are any personnel working in the linked areas?”
“Those are storage areas, Lieutenant. One or two people might be there, but that’s it.”
“Find out and then speak to them on the comms.” Vance grimaced. “It looks nasty on the surface. Most of the buildings are automated, right?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, but not all.”
“Because I don’t think we can do anything for those personnel.”
“I hate to put a value on a life,” said Moseley. He looked genuinely upset. “We have to deal with the realities.”
“That we do,” said Vance. He hated it as much as Moseley. “Speak to whichever personnel are nearby and order them into the vault.”
Vance left Moseley to it, while he waved at the nearby members of Squad A, indicating they should spread out to give themselves a better view of the exits. Area North-12A was huge and with far too many line-of-sight obstacles for Vance’s liking. If the Kilvar sent in ground troops the combat would be messy, and with half of his platoon having never fired a weapon in anger, he hoped they’d hold up under the coming pressure.
Sprinting past a row of consoles, Vance approached the ingar reactor. It was larger than it appeared from the entrance, being seventy metres deep and high, almost two hundred in length and cuboid in shape. A cylinder with a fifty-metre diameter protruded a short distance from each end and the reactor emitted a deep, penetrating noise at the edge of hearing.
A cluster of technicians hadn’t got the message that it was time to leave and they frantically entered data into the panels on the reactor’s facing surface.
“Move!” shouted Vance. “Get to the vault!”
“RL Moseley!” said one of the technicians, ignoring Vance entirely. “We have to disable the reactor in case the enemy steal it.”
“It’s not designed to be shut down,” said Moseley. “If our attackers want it, they can have it. Now do what Lieutenant Vance told you. Go!”
The technicians didn’t wait around and they sprinted after the others, grabbing diagnostic tablets from a table as they went.
“Here’s the exium prototype,” said Moseley, hurrying across to a floating cube which looked very much like a larger version of an obliterator core. Unlike an obliterator core, the exium unit had grey, half-metre posts jutting from five of its surfaces.
“Doesn’t look like much,” said Drawl dismissively.
“Keep your mouth shut, Private,” growled Vance. Admittedly, it didn’t look like much to him either but he had a good sense that this prototype was vital to the advancement of alliance technology. “RL Moseley, how do we get it moving? Is that a standard obliterator gravity drive?”
“Your increased level of access should allow you to interface with the device, Lieutenant,” said Moseley. “The receptor is hidden, but if you run a manual search for Exium-P, you should be able to link and issue commands. And yes, it’s the same model gravity drive used for obliterator cores.”
“I’m connected,” said Vance, a moment later. He’d been involved in escort duties for obliterator cores before and was familiar with issuing commands. A quick test sent the prototype floating a couple of metres and then he ordered it to stop.
“We should get after the others, Lieutenant,” said Moseley, showing signs of increased nervousness.
“What’re all these posts sticking out of the sides?” asked Steigers, casually, like he was criticising a used car he was preparing to drop a low-ball offer on.
“Enough, Private,” warned Vance, readying himself to head for the exit.
“That’s fine, Lieutenant,” said Moseley. It seemed like any conversation about his work was enough to calm him down. “Those are the modifications we’ve added. They’re high-throughput overstressed ternium transmitters. They’re experimental,” he finished, as if that explained everything.
“I bet they are,” said Steigers.
“Move!” said Vance, gesturing in the right direction. He put the exium prototype on auto-follow and then ran along the facing edge of the ingar reactor. Accessing the comms, he ordered Sergeant Gantry to fall back.
Another salvo of missiles struck the research building, sounding just as close as the last one. It seemed to Vance as if everything shook – more so than he’d expect from just the shockwave –
and he glanced instinctively at the ceiling. A long, jagged breach had formed, almost a hundred metres in length and the area around it was a sullen red from plasma heat. Through the opening, he saw the deep blue sky of the Tibulon day.
“We’re about to lose pressure,” he shouted. The reactor blocked his sight of the facility personnel and he could only hope every one of them had remembered to seal up against the low-pressure atmosphere of Tibulon.
No sooner had he spoken, than Vance felt the air vacating the immense internal space of North-12A. It tugged at his limbs and droned through the opening above. Fortunately, the depressurisation wasn’t violent enough to produce anything other than a noticeable turbulence and Vance’s main concern was hypoxia in the personnel who hadn’t suited up.
Pressing on, he reached the end of the ternium reactor, where he was granted a far better view of the evacuation. His destination was an exit about 150 metres away and many of the personnel had already made it through. Not breaking stride, Vance turned to check that the exium prototype hadn’t run into a console and got itself stuck.
This part of North-12A was less crowded with tech and Vance had a clear view to the replica annihilator. To his inexpert eye, the level of detail was incredible, even down to the missile clusters on its armour plating.
“What did you build that for?” asked Vance, directing his question at RL Moseley.
“One day, we’d hoped to install an exium power supply and fly it out through the ceiling doors, Lieutenant,” panted Moseley, out of breath already.
“A vanity project?”
“In a way. The Daklan often build models of their warships and they have hundreds of them in museums. We pulled a few strings and were gifted that model of the Ixoler.”
“Will it fly and will those weapons fire?” asked Vance, with more than a passing interest.
“If you’re thinking about using it against our enemy, then I’ve got bad news for you, Lieutenant. In theory, everything about the replica Ixoler should work, except we asked the Daklan to strip out most of the hardware before delivery.”
“Why’d you do a thing like that?” asked Drawl.
Dark of the Void (Forged Alliance Book 1) Page 8
