by Rob Dearsley
“That was useful,” Hale said.
Simon shushed her. “They’re talking.”
“—must be eighty, ninety thousand ships,” Cat said. “Apart from the weak distress signal we’ve been tracking, we’re not seeing any signs of activity.”
“Guys,” the off-camera voice from the beginning of the tape called urgently. “Get up here.”
“What’s going on?” Gus asked, his voice trailing off as he presumably saw what was happening.
The forgotten camera pointed at a bank of controls.
“It’s coming right at us,” Cat cried.
“Camera?” the other man suggested.
The camera’s view whipped across the cockpit, stopping on a curved, segmented window. One of the ships was closing on them, already filling the screen.
“Oh Stars,” Arland breathed, both Simon and Hale joining her curse. The ship was unmistakably Terran.
“—communicating with them?” Cat was saying by the time the trio had gotten over their shock.
“Opening com channels,” the other man said.
“Cat, can you vector their drift and find out where they came from?” Gus asked from behind the camera.
Cat nodded, the movement sending waves down her long braid, and turned to a side console.
“This is the human survey ship, Opportunity, to unknown vessels. Please respond.”
The ship in front of them stopped dead.
“What’s going on?” Gus asked. The camera twisted slightly, and Gus appeared at another console, hunched over the small keyboard.
“Don’t know,” the other man replied. “Maybe it heard us.”
An awful screeching filled the small cockpit, whiting out the screens into a sea of static. The three crewmembers clutched at their ears, doubling over in pain.
As suddenly as it started, the sound and the interference stopped.
“What the heck?” Gus kept glancing back and forth between the viewport and his console.
Cat shook her head, turning back to her own console. “Perhaps it’s their way of communicating.”
“Maybe,” the other man said. “Bit harsh though.”
“I’ve mapped their drift path.” Cat turned to face the others. “I can’t tell where they came from, but according to this they’re going to intersect Colonies Space in about twelve years.”
“Guys,” the other man said, drawing their attention forward. The Terran ship was moving toward them again.
“Back us off, nice and easy,” Gus said.
Before the other man could reply, the cockpit went dark, all the screens going off.
“What the—”
The camera shut down, leaving the screen dark. Arland reached for the keyboard, wondering if that was everything. Then the screen came back to life.
The Opportunity’s crew were in one of the aft compartments, now only illuminated by the beams of their torches.
“It looks like we’ve been pulled aboard the alien vessel,” Gus said, turning the camera to face him. “This could be it. Humanity’s first contact with an alien race.”
“Try to sound a little less excited at our capture,” Cat snapped.
Gus turned the camera around, pointing it at the other two who stood by the airlock.
The other man, Arland pegged him as the captain, hit a control and the hatch hissed open. The interior of the Terran ship was pitch dark, just like when the captain and Luc had gone over, better than a month ago now. The Opportunity’s three crew shone their torches out into the darkened bay.
Arland flinched at the unmistakable, high warbling of one of the Turned. Something shot out of the dark, all blinding speed and savage claws. The captain fell back, blood pouring from his ruined arm. The torch tumbled down the ramp, its wildly flailing beam offering split-second glimpses of more Turned.
Cat screamed. The camera twisted and flailed as Gus ran to the captain, before being set down on its side, giving Arland and her companions a good view of the entry ramp.
“Stars, what was that thing?” Gus asked.
“Damn it, Cat, get a grip.” The captain’s voice was strained. “I’m done for. Get into the survey compartment and seal the door. It’s your only chance.”
“No, we need to stop this bleeding,” Gus said.
“Go. Someone needs to get that final log sent off. They need to know what’s coming.”
Another high, warbling cry. The view wavered as Gus picked up the camera, they could just make out more of the Turned pushing their way into the small compartment. Cat’s screaming kept up. Gus must have been pulling her along with him. She was joined by screams from the captain as the Turned tore into him.
A heavy door slammed down, cutting them off from the carnage. Gus turned the camera to face him.
“Whoever finds this message – Stars, I hope someone does. You saw what happened here. They’re coming. Thousands of ships. We don’t know what they want, the only intelligible message we get is ‘You will all burn’ over and over.”
A dull booming made him turn to look at the bulkhead. Another boom and this time the door deformed.
“Oh Stars, they’re coming. If you find this, you have to find a way to stop them.”
He placed the camera down on a work surface, giving them a clear view of the door. They could hear the tapping of a keyboard, he must have been uploading the video to transmit. The door caved inward an arm pushing through the small gap. There was a screech that made the workstation and the camera vibrate as the door was ripped from its frame.
“Get behind me,” Gus called as the Turned poured into the room.
The camera spun as though struck, then the screen went dark. After a moment the words End of Message popped up.
“Time-stamp shows this was sent just over ten years ago,” Simon said, his voice ragged, as though he’d been running.
Arland stood there, too shell-shocked by what they’d just seen to do anything more than stand there trying to process.
Ten years? The government had known this was coming for ten years, and they’d done nothing to prepare? Arland couldn’t believe that. Someone had to have been working on something, or did they think it was a joke?
She looked up at the screen. More text flashed up.
‘This is why they exist.’
They? The Spooks? Arland couldn’t wrap her head around it. Were they trying to stop the Terrans?
She was pulled from her musings by Hale’s voice. “Someone’s coming.”
Arland reached for the screen, but it had already gone dark. The three of them ducked further back into the stacks and out of sight as a pair of guards entered through double doors set off to one side.
“I don’t see how anyone could have gotten in here without being caught.” The guard’s voice was followed by the click of a switch. Fluorescent lights crackled to life overhead.
“They picked up heat spikes in here. It’s probably just another busted heat exchanger, but we have to check it out.” The voices advanced further into the room.
Simon poked his rifle around the stacks, watching the guards with his ball-mirror. Without a way to see them herself, Arland was left tracking the sounds. She closed her eyes, following their footfalls as they came closer.
As they rounded the end of the stack, Arland caught a fleeting glimpse of the guards before ducking out of sight. Both were younger men, one blond and one dark haired.
Arland and her friends crept around the servers, trying to stay hidden. Hale risked a glance around one of the blinking computers. Arland wished she could see what was going on.
“Come on,” Hale whispered, waving for them to follow her.
They ran at a low crouch toward the workshop door.
Simon bustled through the door just behind Arland.
“Hey, you. Stop!” The guards had spotted them.
Arland stood, staring at the door, torn between going back and taking out the guards or making a run for it. They didn’t have the resources for a protracted g
unfight but would running leave them in a worse situation later?
The decision was taken out of her hands as the guards pushed the door open. The blond’s gun was up and searching for a target, while the dark-haired guard reached for his shoulder radio.
Arland threw herself over the nearest workbench, expecting to hear the crack of the blond’s pistol. Dropping her rifle, she went for her pistol. By the time she was back on her feet, Hale had the blond by the gun arm and throat, pinned to the wall.
The second guard clicked his radio again. Something must be blocking the signal. Arland drew a bead on him and pulled the trigger. The silencer reduced the sound of her pistol into something approximating a sharp cough.
At the last second, the guard dove, Arland’s shot catching him in the shoulder, turning his dive into a graceless tumble.
She heard the click as he went for his radio again. Arland didn’t have an angle over the bench. The radio let out a static hiss. She was out of time and options. She vaulted the workbench, grabbing one of the half-complete servers and bringing it down on the guard’s head and shoulders.
The wetware chip shattered, spilling warm, foul-smelling liquid over Arland’s hands and the unconscious guard.
The guard’s radio crackled. “Dave? Say again?”
“We need to get out of here before more guards show up.” Simon pulled her back. “If we can get back to the vent system then we might still get out without a fight.”
Arland was glad to leave the workshop and the infernal machines behind as they rushed out into the corridor.
Simon let out a shout of alarm and rifle shots cracked off the wall by Arland’s head. Instinctively, she cowered away as more bullets pinged past. In front of her, Simon let out a pained grunt, almost dropping his gun.
“This way!” Hale yelled, forcing a door open.
Arland blind-fired her pistol, grabbed the back of Simon’s harness and dove for the open door. She was rewarded with a cry of pain from the guards.
Hale slammed the door behind them, pulling a wire shelving unit down across it. “You okay?”
“Armour caught the shots,” Simon explained, rolling his shoulder.
Ignoring them, Arland scanned the room for another way out. They were in another storeroom, this one stacked with computer parts. Thankfully, it all looked like conventional equipment. An office occupied the far end of the room, a bare strip light casting sharp shadows.
The door rattled behind them as the trio ducked into the office. Desking lined two walls, its surface covered in flexes. Hale pulled the cover off another vent shaft and ushered them in.
Arland climbed in after Simon, leaving Hale to bring up the rear.
The metal vent cover let out an anguished squeal as Hale twisted it back into the shaft, jamming it in place so the guards couldn’t follow them.
Hale said, “Turn right at the next intersection, it’ll bring us out into a lift shaft.”
◊◊
The lift shaft was almost as wide as the cooling tower they’d climbed earlier. A square shaft nearly thirty metres across, its top lost to gloom. Cables and conduits ran up shallow recesses in the sides, along with a ladder set into the far wall.
“Well, that’s a bear,” Simon quipped.
Arland rolled her eyes.
“What’s that?” Hale asked, her gaze going distant.
It was the same look she got when she’d been near the Terran ships without the blockers. “What is it?” Arland went instantly on edge.
“I can hear something, a rumbling. Vibrations maybe?” Hale replied.
Arland breathed a sigh of relief, at least it wasn’t the Terrans. She leaned against the side of the shaft. Wait, there was something. A soft vibration, she could feel it through her cheek.
“The lift’s coming up.” Simon pushed himself to one side allowing Arland to squeeze past and look down the lift shaft. Movement in the darkness resolved into the top of the lift carriage. Boxy sections of machinery scattered across the metal surface.
“We could jump onto the lift carriage,” Simon suggested.
Arland shook her head. He was crazy. He and Dannage would probably get on. A smile danced across her lips at the memory of the captain.
Bullets pinged off the side of the vent shaft and Hale let out a pained grunt.
The guard’s voice was high but firm. “Don’t move.”
“No choice now.” Simon grabbed Arland’s equipment harness and pulled her out into the lift shaft.
Arland tumbled across the top of the lift, her vision spinning. For a moment she wasn’t sure which way was up. She felt a nodule under her hand and grabbed for it, her arm wrenched. Groaning, she rolled onto her back as Hale thumped down onto the lift.
Arland pulled herself up, wincing at the sharp pain in her side. Probably cracked ribs. Her nanites would fix the breaks but she’d ache for ages.
Simon tumbled into her, taking them both down in a tangle of limbs. Arland’s rifle skimmed away from her, and over the side of the lift. Damn.
Keeping her breathing shallow against the broken ribs, Arland pulled herself back up. To her right, Hale was already up.
The lift lurched to a stop beneath them. Hale’s head snapped up as doors above them opened, light from the corridor beyond momentarily falling on them. Shadows fell across the doorway, the lights glinting off the guard’s guns.
“Don’t move.”
Fourteen
- Topaz IIa -
Dannage swirled the dregs in the bottom of his glass, watching the amber liquid. Small bubbles raced along, pulled by the current. He could empathise; he felt like he was being pulled along by something bigger. Fate maybe, or destiny? Whatever he’d gotten caught up in made him feel so small and insignificant. What could he do against it? Apart from letting fate drag him along and playing his part like a meek little pawn of fortune. Luc sat opposite him, lost in his own drink.
Of course, when he’d seen another path, he’d taken it. No matter it was the coward’s way out. Now here he was, in this dingy seafront pub, suffused with mingling scents of beer and tobacco.
Where did they even get tobacco from in this day and age?
“Hey, turn that up.”
He looked up. One of the bar’s other patrons was gesturing at the vid-screen set into the wall over the far end of the oaken bar. It showed more footage from the Terran attacks. He didn’t know which system it was, didn’t much care either. They all looked the same, Terran ships tearing apart the local SDF fleets, or hammering planets into oblivion. There seemed to be more and more Terrans each time they attacked.
As the volume increased, the announcer’s voice pierced through the haze of the bar.
“—reports less than a thousand colonists have made it out of the system so far.”
Sounds about right, Dannage thought. There just wasn’t enough time to facilitate a proper evacuation. It had taken them what, three, four hours to destroy Gypsum?
“Reports still coming in on this breaking news story,” the announcer continued. “Terran ships have attacked Calcite. This is the first we have seen of their force since their costly attack on Titanite. SDF forces are engaging the ships while the two inhabited worlds are evacuated.”
Evacuation was a joke, there was no way there would be enough ships on hand to evacuate two whole worlds – billions of people. The SDF couldn’t hold against the Terrans, they’d proven that again and again. Everyone would die. The human race would be annihilated and that would be the end of it.
He slammed his glass back onto the scarred tabletop, the bang drawing attention from the other patrons and making Luc start.
Feeling his cheeks flush under their penetrating gazes, he hurried from the bar and back onto the seafront.
“Cap’n?” Luc followed him onto the seafront.
“Sorry, I need to do this alone.”
Luc nodded. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Luc, thank you for everything.” Dannage turned and started inla
nd. He didn’t relish what came next.
◊◊
- Micha IIb -
Arland slowly raised her hands, keenly aware of the laser sights dancing across her chest. Five guards glared down at them from the open doorway above. She felt more than heard the clomp of more men entering the lift below them.
Damn it, they were trapped. Beside her, Simon shifted his foot, nudging his slim-line backpack. Arland followed his glance, seeing a coil of thermite rope. Simon shifted again pushing the loop toward Arland. She shuffled her feet, hidden from the guard's view until both she and Simon stood within the thermite loop.
One of the guards above them lowered his weapon and touched a hand to his neck. “When the hatch opens, drop down into the lift. One by one.” His voice boomed into the shaft. He must have vocal enhancement tech.
“Okay. We’ll cooperate,” Arland called up, as Hale moved toward the open hatch, stepping into the thermite loop.
The world around Arland erupted into fire and molten metal.
She was weightless for a second, the freefall disorienting her as she dropped through a haze of smoke and slag. Arland hit the ground hard, remembering just in time to roll with it. Even so, the impact jarred her legs and the role was awkward, forcing her to steady herself with one hand. Her pistol in the other already up and ready.
Movement in the smoke. She fired on instinct, the weapon’s bark obscenely loud in the muted stillness of the smokescreen. The figure spun around with the force of the impact and dropped screaming. Another figure appeared through the smoke, and she fired again, her aim better this time. The guard’s head snapped back and he dropped instantly.
Gunshots cracked from in front of her, bullets whizzing over her head to ping off the rear wall. The guards were blind-firing into the smoke, panicking. She stayed low, scanning for more targets.
She didn’t see the guard until he was almost on top of her. He stumbled through the smoke, one half of his face a mask of blood, his uniform burned and battered.
They saw each other at the same moment. He raised his gun to shoot Arland, she dived at his legs. He fell with a startled cry, throwing out his arms to catch himself and losing his gun in the process. Arland didn’t lose hers. Instead, she brought it up in a two-handed grip, aiming at the guard. His eyes wide with panic and he froze beneath her. Stars, he looked so young, so innocent.
