He stepped into the corridor, watching for movement. It was still and the oxygen levels had fallen to almost zero, so this area of the spaceship had completely depressurized. His feet made no sound on the floor and even with his helmet microphone turned to maximum sensitivity, he couldn’t hear anything.
Three dead Raggers lay on the floor about ten meters from the door, their naked bodies contorted and their long, thin limbs stretched or bent. Their normally pale skin was red and blistered, split in places and weeping a clear fluid that would soon be frozen as the temperature fell. Vomit and excrement were everywhere and the Raggers were covered in both. Conway didn’t want to breathe the scent and was glad the air was gone.
“A fitting end,” said Zargol, taking care to avoid the worst of the mess.
It was a good sign and a gruesome one. Conway stared briefly at the face of one Ragger and saw the agony of death in its expression. Any sympathy he might have possessed was gone – burned to nothingness in the conflagration of Satra. The emotion he felt most of all was hatred and he fought it down, so that it wouldn’t consume him.
Conway made his way carefully around the bodies. He wasn’t squeamish, but like Zargol, he didn’t want to be wading through Ragger shit. A short distance along, he came to a door, with another in the wall opposite. The access panels were red.
“Want me to try?” asked Zargol.
Lockhart and Mavingkar were close enough to cover the doorway and Conway nodded. Zargol planted his palm and the light didn’t change.
“Still in the lockdown area.”
Griffin pointed to the end of the corridor, eighty meters away. “I guess that’s where it ends.”
With nothing better to go on, Conway led them that way. He stopped at each intersection and watched for Raggers. Another couple of dead ones were sprawled along the second turning and Conway didn’t need a closer look to see that they’d died of radiation poisoning. He didn’t know how many of these same symptoms a human would show, but he got the impression it wouldn’t be as bad as this. Maybe the Raggers were more vulnerable – he certainly hoped so.
The door at the end was locked with another red panel. Zargol tried to open it without any luck, so Conway called Lonstril up with his cutter.
“Stand back, do not look at the beam,” said the Fangrin.
The warning was eerily similar to what most human soldiers offered before they turned on the cutters. Conway was beginning to accept that the Fangrin were closer to his own kind than people wanted to believe. It was far easier to see the negatives in your enemy and pretend you were nothing like them.
The laser cutter made short work of the door – the Fangrin were stronger than humans and able to carry larger power cells.
“Not much depressurization,” said Lonstril. “I expect we will find an airlock.”
With that, he shoulder-charged the door, sending the detached section flying into the space beyond. It didn’t make a sound when it landed on the airlock floor. Conway peered inside – the airlock was a few meters long and ended at yet another door. Another access panel, another red light.
“Try, please,” he said, tapping Zargol on the arm.
This time, the light turned green.
“When we open this, the sirens will wail and air will rush through,” said Zargol.
Conway knew the routine. “Think you can hold that door open while I look on the other side?”
“The hinges have power assistance,” said Zargol. “The depressurization will not close the door.”
The Fangrin lifted the lever and pushed the door open. Wind droned through and Conway felt it pushing against him. He saw the walls of another corridor and stepped out in time to see four Raggers walking away from him, carrying a heavy-looking piece of tech between them. They were dressed in black suits, covered in silver mesh. Their stealth units must have failed but the suits were still enough to protect them from radiation.
The Raggers were clearly finding the tech module heavy, yet they still gave the impression of speed. Their limbs made Conway think of a huge spider, with the same suddenness and too-fast movement. One of the aliens turned and spotted him in the doorway. It raised the weapon that was in its spare hand and twisted around. Conway had his Gilner already in position and he pulled on the trigger. The magazine readout plummeted and bullets smashed into the Raggers.
Zargol wasn’t slow to respond and he leaned outwards, his own gun producing a thunk-thunk-thunk. The Raggers went down easily, their blood spraying the walls and floors. When he was confident the job was done, Conway stopped firing and checked the corridor behind the open door. The passage continued a long way and then turned out of sight.
“Move!” he ordered.
The soldiers responded at once and hurried through the opening. Conway sprinted in the direction of the bodies, listening for alarms or the sound of incoming hostiles. He wasn’t pleased to find living Raggers on the mothership and he didn’t want to give them a chance to organize.
“Last man, close the door,” he said. “Be ready.”
“I thought the radiation got them all,” said Kemp.
“Protective suits.”
“Think they’ll come, sir?” asked Barron.
“We’ll soon find out.”
Conway didn’t want to be chased through the warship if he could avoid it. Far better to advance with control and neutralize the enemy as they appeared. This was a big spaceship and it was possible the squad would get away with a few brief engagements without alerting anyone, especially if the unprotected members of the crew were dead to radiation poisoning.
He hurdled the first two bodies and ran to the side of the dropped tech module on his way to the intersection at the end. As he jumped the last Ragger, Conway caught sight of its face through the visor. The black-orb eyes stared sightlessly at him and the alien’s skin was pink-red. Their suits had protected them from the worst of the gamma rays, but enough radiation had seeped through to make their deaths inevitable.
At the end of the corridor, he paused. It went right, which should take them closer to the center and – in theory – the bridge. The passage ended at steps leading down. It was still and he turned to look behind. Lockhart and Barron watched the other way and Zargol had his shoulder launcher ready. Conway trusted the Fangrin wasn’t trigger happy when it came to that particular weapon.
“I think we got away with it,” said Griffin.
“Maybe.” Conway agreed, but he didn’t want to relax.
Griffin hurried towards the object the Raggers had dropped in the corridor when Conway’s bullets had cut them down. It was cube-shaped with two runners on top which the aliens had used as handles. The other faces were covered in interface ports.
“This might be a comms router,” said Griffin.
The significance of it wasn’t lost on Conway. “They’re trying to fix the spaceship?”
“Could be. If they have replacements in stores, they could patch them in if they have the know-how.”
“It looks like only the Raggers in combat suits survived the radiation, sir. Soldiers, not technicians.”
“In my experience, if you have a large enough group of soldiers, there’s usually sufficient pooled knowledge to do all kinds of technical stuff that you might not expect.”
“Point taken, sir. If they get the comms working, then not long after we’ll have a Ragger fleet outside.”
“That’s how I see it. Once they get here, we’ll lose the Gradior and they’ll retake their mothership. Then in a week’s time, they might decide it’s time to pay another visit to New Destiny.”
Conway got the message. The Fangrin were meant to be sending a fleet here, but when Ragger stealth tech came up against a normal warship, the fight wasn’t a fair one. And nobody had much of an idea when the dogs would come. The biggest question was how many Raggers were still alive on the mothership. If it was hundreds, the mission was effectively over. A few dozen and maybe they could still reach the bridge.
A full
two minutes passed and no Raggers turned up to investigate. Conway decided it was enough waiting and he waved the squad to advance. Success was going to require a few lucky rolls of the dice, while it seemed like the downsides of failure were mounting all the time.
“No pressure,” he muttered.
Chapter Nineteen
Conway led the squad to the top of the stairs. The steps were clear and he set off, finding the risers too high for him to descend easily. The Fangrin didn’t mind and they came down in languid strides.
They reached the bottom without incident and emerged into a huge, circular space, more than two hundred meters across and with a ceiling forty meters high. In the center of the room, a hundred-meter-wide pillar, made from a dark material, rose through the floor and vanished into the ceiling. The pillar gave off a deep pulsating note and Conway’s HUD readings went screwy, warning him of unrecognized emissions.
Lockhart positioned the troops while Conway spent a few seconds thinking. Griffin stood next to him – he looked particularly on edge and didn’t lower his rifle.
“That’s part of a tharniol drive, Lieutenant. Looks like there’s more above or below this room.”
Conway had a good idea how much space a propulsion system required and he wasn’t shocked to find the Ragger mothership was carrying one as big as this. It was also off-center and he wondered if that meant they would find others if they searched for long enough.
He gave the command to move and the squad set off, staying close to the wall. The energy pulsing from the central pillar was beginning to make everyone feel nauseous and Conway didn’t want to go any closer than required.
The propulsion room had many ways in and out, which increased the danger. Conway set a pace which balanced speed with caution and they hurried around the perimeter. Status panels were set into the wall every few meters and Conway tried to read some of the text as he ran by. Two words in particular stood out – the description Offline appeared many times, along with Danger.
Griffin was clearly interested, but Conway didn’t want to spend any longer than necessary in this area. Anything on those status panels would be visible on the bridge as well if Griffin felt it necessary to investigate further, and it was a priority to get there first. The Raggers didn’t show up and Conway chose what he hoped was the best exit. It led to more steps and he climbed, feeling the weight of his kit.
At the top, they came to another corridor which led to another intersection, with neither option going towards the center. Conway didn’t want the choice but he made it anyway.
“Let’s try left,” he said, staring in that direction. He saw doorways and intersections. The corridor itself ended at another closed door and when he zoomed in his view, he could read the word Storage on the door. It was vague enough to irritate.
“I would like to check out the storage room,” said Griffin. “It might give us an idea of what the Raggers are carrying onboard.”
“If the Raggers are trying to repair the ship, the storage room might be busy,” Conway replied. After another moment’s thought, he agreed to try it. “We’re going to have to shoot the bastards at some point. It might as well be on our terms.”
They advanced rapidly along the corridor. The spaceship was much quieter than most in the ULAF navy and its idling engines were hardly audible. Even the creaking of metal was faint. The Raggers knew how to put a spaceship together.
Before he reached the first intersection on the way to the storeroom, Conway’s nose detected an acrid stench in the air. He stopped and glanced both ways. Each corridor was filled with Ragger corpses – lots of them – and in the process of dying they had left everything comprehensively soiled. He grimaced at the sight and moved on towards the storage room door.
“Zargol?” said Conway, tapping the access panel with his finger.
“I will open this door,” said the Fangrin.
Conway held ready and watched as the red light on the access panel turned to green. Zargol lifted the handle and pulled the door open. The storeroom lights were left on at a very low level and Conway waited for his sight to adjust.
This was the far end of a room that measured ten meters by at least thirty, with many more dead Raggers. It stank worse than anything Conway could remember and he tried hard not to retch.
“Why so many in here?” asked Kemp. “Were they holding a party or something?”
“They must have thought the store room was shielded,” said Barron. “Tough shit for them.”
Conway waited on the threshold. “Do we need to go in, sir?”
“This might be important, Lieutenant.”
With reluctance, Conway took a step into the room. The floor was smeared with excrement and he had no choice other than to stand in it. His resolve stiffened and he forced himself to ignore the intense feeling of distaste.
He checked out the room and counted three aisles, with floor-to-ceiling heavy-duty metal shelves. Conway saw all kinds of objects on the shelves, none of which he recognized. He had no doubt the equipment was valuable and it was secured by harnesses or clamps to stop it moving around.
He advanced silently into the room, with Akandar coming after and then Kemp. It still felt strange having a Fangrin watching his back, but Conway was getting accustomed. A noise made him freeze.
“I heard a door.”
“Yes, a door in the opposite corner,” said Akandar. “Along the third aisle.”
Conway listened carefully without moving. Footsteps entered the room and he gritted his teeth while he waited to find out which way the enemy would turn. They pattered along the third aisle and then stopped. Conway turned up the sensitivity on his helmet microphone and heard the far door close.
He took a careful step and then another. Something scraped and he guessed it was the Raggers pulling something from one of the shelves. Another step and his foot came down on the wrist of a corpse. Flesh and sinews crackled and Conway swore.
“Ready,” he said.
One more step and he was at the edge of the third aisle. He took a deep breath and walked sideways with his rifle held steady. Akandar came after, leaving enough room for Kemp. The room wasn’t well-lit, though it was enough for Conway to see three more Raggers straining to bring an object down from one of the shelves. A moment later they were dead, chewed up in a burst of noise and high-impacts.
The squad did what they could to secure the room. Lockhart reported a total of four entry points, which was enough to make Conway want to get out as quickly as possible. He told Griffin as much.
“One moment, Lieutenant.”
Griffin walked rapidly along one aisle and then came back around on the far side of the shelves.
“Anything you recognize, sir?”
“Yes. Do you see this?” Griffin poked an object on the nearby bottom shelf with his foot.
“Looks like a big switch, sir. With lots of places to plug in cables.”
“The shelves on the next aisle are filled with these. With a few gaps.”
Conway got that Griffin was encouraging him to think about the answer. Right now, he wanted to be spoon fed. “I don’t know, sir.”
Griffin must have detected the exasperation. “These are safety cut outs. Usually they get triggered and you can just reset them. Sometimes they overload so badly that the whole cut out fries and you have to swap in a new one.”
“You think some of the onboard systems might be operational, sir?”
“There’s a chance of it. I’m sure there’s lots of other damage, but it’s possible some of the more robust systems survived the EMP burst from the nuke and also the radiation that came after. Remember, they got this spaceship into lightspeed, which means something’s got to be working.”
“So that’s good news for us if we make it to the bridge and bad news for us if we don’t.”
“That’s what I think.”
Conway picked his way towards the far end of the room where the Raggers had come through. The door was unlocked and he opened it ca
utiously. Outside, the corridor went left, right or straight on.
“We’re going straight ahead,” he said. “Looks like another room through there.”
It didn’t smell any better in the corridor, though the lights were a little brighter, which made it easier to see what you were stepping in. With the shooting over, Kemp began complaining about the crap on his boots until Lockhart told him to keep quiet.
The corridor ended at another store room, this one smaller and made for keeping low-value items that needed to go somewhere. Its shelves were filled with crates made from toughened plastic, most of them labelled with the contents. Conway wasn’t too interested in bolts, brackets or cabling and he exited as quickly as possible through the closest of the two other doors.
“Another storeroom,” he said angrily.
“This is a big spaceship,” said Griffin. “We were bound to find the useless crap on our way to the bridge.”
The truth didn’t make Conway feel any better. He led the squad from the room and into yet another corridor. His suit computer was building a map from his step count and it told him he was heading in the right direction, assuming the bridge was in the middle. However, the mothership was nearly a thousand meters from top to bottom at its highest point, which potentially meant fifty or even a hundred different levels to search.
“We need a map,” he said. He pointed at Zargol. “Does that thing built into your suit know how to extract map data from Ragger terminals?”
“No.”
Conway felt the sudden urge to punch a solid object. “We could wander around this place for days without finding the bridge.” An idea came to him. “Unless we beat the answer out of one of these Raggers.”
“We can try it,” said Zargol, clenching and unclenching his massive fists.
“Now we just have to find one and catch it,” said Barron. “Easy.”
“Maybe we’ll find the bridge first,” growled Conway. “That’ll save us the effort.”
He lashed out with his foot, striking one of the dead Raggers lying nearby. The body was solid but not especially heavy and the weight of his kick shifted it along the ground. He restrained himself from kicking it again and strode off.
Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2) Page 15
