The creature thrashed but it wasn’t nearly strong enough to escape, and it was easily restrained. Conway stepped close and the Ragger opened its mouth, revealing tiny pieces of white flesh stuck between needle-sharp teeth.
“Ragger!” it hissed.
“How many of you are alive on this ship?” asked Conway. He wasn’t about to get himself upset over an alien insult.
“Ragger!”
“They do not usually respond well to questioning,” said Zargol. “Watch this.”
Without any warning, the Fangrin extended the Ragger’s arm and brought it down hard over his raised knee. Conway winced when he heard the bone snap.
The Ragger writhed and its face twisted. “Ragger!”
“See!” said Zargol. “This one shows only defiance.”
“You sound like you know more than I do,” said Conway. “How do we get it to speak?”
“We keep snapping parts of its body until it gives us answers to our questions.”
In spite of their long-running war, humans and Fangrin hadn’t resorted to torturing each other. Conway had been expecting to make a few threats and maybe slap the Ragger around a bit before it gave directions to the bridge. He didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of a torture session, particularly when he was in charge.
“Will it work?” he asked.
“I do not know,” said Zargol. “Perhaps.”
“Are you aware of it ever working?”
“No, but I have never been required to attempt the method.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” said Griffin. “Look over here.”
Conway went to see what the other man had found. Griffin kept on poking at a square console with a single screen on it.
“What’s this, sir?”
“One of the maintenance consoles. It’s different to how our equivalents are tied in with a spaceship, but a few of the underlying principles are the same.”
Griffin pushed a button, a menu appeared and then he pushed another button. Conway’s helmet computer offered up translations – he recognized the words if not how they related to the spaceship’s function.
“Is there a map, sir?”
“Sort of a map. I can access a breakdown of the different maintenance areas. The interior is subdivided into many different zones, with the bridge classified as the most important one.”
“Where is it?”
Griffin stretched his arm and pointed in the approximate direction they’d been travelling. “About two hundred meters below us and five hundred that way,” he said. “Have a look at this.”
The map appeared on screen and to Conway’s disappointment it wasn’t exactly a cross-section of the spaceship, with labels for steps and lifts. It was more a stylized representation, with letters and numbers to denote the maintenance areas. He stared for a few moments and suddenly it clicked.
“I think this is enough,” Conway said. “I see how it works.” He got onto the squad channel. “We’re done here. Captain Griffin’s map will get us to the bridge.”
“What about this Ragger?” said Akandar.
“We don’t need it.”
Conway didn’t want to kill the creature in cold blood, even though he wasn’t about to order someone else to do it for him - in his eyes there was no distinction. The Fangrin had no qualms and, without ceremony, Akandar put a single bullet into the Ragger’s head, taking care that the explosion of brain and bone didn’t hit anyone. The Ragger lay still.
“When you have seen what they do, you will act the same.”
“I hope it never comes to that, soldier.”
Hope was an easy fallback and Conway had already seen at Satra what the Raggers were capable of. These Fangrin acted with a ruthlessness that they’d never shown against the Unity League and he wondered how much it had taken to drive them to it. He didn’t want to find out.
They exited the room and Conway marched in the direction of the bridge. They descended a long flight of steps which curved to the right and led to a series of other rooms filled with maintenance equipment. To Conway’s eye it looked much neater than what he normally saw on a Unity League spaceship. The Raggers didn’t leave many pipes or cables on show, like all the major kit was solid state.
They arrived at more steps, wider than the last ones, again curved and again descending. The bottom was out of sight but Conway judged they were still above the expected level of the bridge. He led the squad onwards and with each passing moment, a background thrum became more prominent.
“Propulsion,” said Griffin.
They passed a single dead Ragger and then came to a closed door.
“Lots of radiation,” said Conway.
The door reeked with it and he was reluctant to touch its surface. His combat suit had absorbed plenty of it already and he didn’t want to test its limit. The alternative was a trip back up the steps in order to find another route.
“Open it.”
Zargol complied and the door slid to one side. The thrumming immediately became louder and an additional radiation warning appeared on Conway’s HUD.
“Big area,” said Lockhart.
On the far side of the door was a vast, circular area with a diameter of four hundred meters and a ceiling height of fifty. The red lighting was dull and its color reminded Conway of the Ragger feeding trough. The central part of the floor – beginning a hundred meters away - was cut out and the top of a dark cylinder was visible, with a ten-meter gap between it and the floor’s edge. It was hot – three hundred Fahrenheit and if the ducts in the ceiling were meant to keep this place cool, they weren’t doing a good job. On the plus side, he couldn’t see any Raggers, living or dead.
“That’s the main propulsion,” said Griffin. “It looks different to the engines we put in our own ships, but I’m sure that’s its purpose.”
Conway was only partially interested. Mostly he wanted to find a way out of here that wouldn’t overshoot the bridge. He could see several doors and selected the one he thought was best.
“I need to take a look at that engine,” said Griffin.
“Is it important, sir? We should move on.”
“One minute, Lieutenant.”
Griffin sprinted off and Conway was obliged to join him. The thrumming was beginning to make his head ache and he wanted to be in a position to encourage Griffin to hurry up.
The Raggers hadn’t put up a railing, so the two men kept a wary distance from the edge. Even so, Conway could see that the propulsion cylinder went a long way down. Griffin inched forward and peered to the bottom.
“Never say we don’t get lucky, Lieutenant.”
“Sir?”
“I wouldn’t expect a spaceship this big to be disabled by radiation as quickly as it happened in this case. Too much dense metal for the gamma rays to soak through. Look down there.”
Conway reluctantly took another step. The cylinder shaft was lit all the way down and the first thing he noticed was that the engine had no visible supports. Further below, he saw what he thought might be circular doors, which, from the distance, had to open directly into space.
Griffin didn’t leave him guessing. “I think the Raggers had those doors open at the moment the Star Burner’s bomb went off. Maybe they needed to cool the engines, or maybe they needed to vent something else. Either way, the radiation came in and then through ducts to the rest of the ship.
“No failsafes?”
“These are Raggers, Lieutenant. Who knows what they consider safe? Maybe they just don’t care too much.”
“We need to leave, sir.”
They made it back to the squad, which was waiting next to Conway’s chosen exit. Zargol knew the routine and opened the door. On the far side, a spiral staircase led directly upwards from the middle of a small room.
“Going up?” asked Lockhart.
“Let’s get this over with,” said Conway. He wanted to climb the steps only marginally more than he wanted to re-trace his route.
He got on with it – the
steps were steep, but made for gangling Ragger limbs, which meant he had enough room. The staircase shook with the weight of the Fangrin coming behind and the entire frame rattled loudly.
“Stay back,” Conway ordered. “I’ll check it out first.”
He climbed as quickly and quietly as he could. The staircase was erratically lit, though he could see enough. The steps cut through solid metal and the walls were completely smooth. As he went higher, the thrumming of the engine receded.
“Everything okay, sir?” asked Lockhart. “What if there’s a closed door at the top?”
“In that case, I’ll have to wait. It’s better than having every last Ragger coming to find out what’s shaking their emergency staircase.”
There was no door at the top. Instead, the steps ended at another small room, with an opening onto a corridor. Conway didn’t need to poke his head outside – he could read the word Bridge on the wall without having to leave the alcove.
He got on the comms. “We’re close to the bridge. Advance to my position. Keep it quiet.”
Conway positioned himself to one side of the doorway, where he was hidden from the corridor. The steel staircase rattled, starting quietly and then becoming louder as the ascending squad came closer. It rose in volume and Conway gritted his teeth.
“Quiet!” he urged.
“We’re doing our best, sir.”
Another sound got Conway’s attention and he heard the pattering of Ragger feet somewhere outside. He called a halt on the comms and the rattling stopped.
To Conway’s horror, a Ragger entered the room. It didn’t see him and walked to the staircase with a noticeable limp. Its stealth suit was battered and filthy. Conway waited to see if a second would enter – he wasn’t certain how many he’d heard coming and thought there might be two.
The first one peered down the steps and then fumbled for a grenade. Conway knew it was time to act and he put a short burst of high-impacts into the alien’s head. Before it hit the floor, he turned his gun towards the door. A second Ragger entered. It saw him and got off a snap shot, missing Conway by inches. He fired point-blank into its chest and it stumbled backwards, limbs flailing. He shot it again and stepped to the doorway, just as a third Ragger appeared.
Conway swore and brought his gun up. The Ragger wasn’t having any of it and knocked his aim wide while swinging its own long-barreled rifle towards him. The alien had a wiry strength and it was a slippery bastard. Conway attempted to smash it to the floor, but it stepped away. He followed in and crunched the top of his suit helmet into its visor. He heard something crack and the Ragger attempted to sidestep out of reach. Conway thundered a punch under its chin which knocked the alien into the wall. With his opponent staggered, he shot it several times in the chest. It stopped moving and Conway checked around anxiously to see if any more were coming.
“Clear,” he announced, at the same time as Sergeant Lockhart emerged from the staircase.
The rest of them gathered up and Conway pointed at the sign for the bridge.
“Which way is it?” asked Kemp.
“That way,” Conway replied, indicating right.
With that, he led them into the corridor outside. He didn’t enjoy being cooped up on spaceships at the best of times and while this one wasn’t exactly cramped, Conway wanted to get this over with and hopefully return home. He shook his head ruefully at the thought.
“Whatever anyone says, I’m never that lucky,” he told himself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
They located the bridge door at the end of a short, wide passage leading from a main corridor. This corridor curved and it appeared to complete a full circuit, with the bridge area in the middle. This part of the spaceship was filled with dead Raggers and nobody in the squad was accustomed to the stench. The most important part was that the enemy were dead, rather than firing weapons. Conway was willing to put up with the stink on that basis alone.
“How many other doors into the bridge, do you reckon?” asked Kemp.
It was a good question. This particular entrance door was solid and thick and Zargol’s attempts to open it hadn’t worked. Lonstril was sure he could get through it with the cutter, but any Raggers on the far side would certainly know about it. Therefore, it didn’t seem likely that they could storm the bridge in a surprise attack.
“Let’s take a look for those other doors,” said Conway.
The marched a full circuit of the corridor and counted one additional bridge entrance. The space outside the second door was piled up with various modules and devices, which the Raggers had presumably brought here from stores.
“I’ve got a plan,” said Conway. “It relies on the Raggers being stupid. If they aren’t stupid, it might work anyway.”
The details were basic and easily explained. Lonstril stood close to the first bridge door, with his laser cutter ready to go. Akandar, Mavingkar, Griffin and Barron provided cover from nearby. As soon as the Fangrin indicated he was ready, Conway led everyone else to the opposite entrance. Zargol found the whole enterprise very amusing and he chuckled for many seconds.
“I see you humans have already identified what we Fangrin also learned quickly. The Raggers are numerous, but they are also stupid and easily fooled.”
“They haven’t been fooled yet, Zargol. For all we know, they have a dozen squads heading our way.”
“In which case, we will be the fools.” He laughed again. “However, I think not.”
“Any sign of resistance?” asked Conway on the squad channel.
“Negative,” said Lonstril. “Are you in position?”
“Almost.”
Conway’s group reached the far bridge entrance. He crouched at one side of the door and Zargol stood behind him with his rifle above the level of Conway’s head and his shoulder launcher propped against the wall. Lockhart and Kemp arranged themselves similarly on the far side. It wasn’t ideal, but there wasn’t much else to use for cover.
“We’re in position.”
“I will begin cutting.”
Conway waited, uncertain exactly what the Raggers would do. They couldn’t allow Lonstril to cut his way onto the bridge without showing at least some kind of resistance. He hoped the aliens would come through this door here and try to circle around.
“No rockets,” he reminded Zargol. “We want this to be intact.”
The Fangrin chuckled again. It was an infectious sound, though Conway didn’t feel like joining in.
The bridge door slid aside to reveal a large squad of Raggers. They were harder to count than humans or Fangrin on account of them seeming to have more limbs than four. Conway’s snap estimate told him they faced eight or ten of the aliens.
He opened up with his rifle and the recoil thump was as comforting as watching his enemies being cut down by many bullets. The concentrated fire punched into the Raggers, taking them completely by surprise. Conway heard the crack of return fire and a slug glanced off the wall in front of him. His magazine ran dry and he slammed in a new one.
The fire from his men stuttered briefly while Kemp and Lockhart also swapped mags. Zargol’s rifle carried more bullets and he fired single shots into the Raggers, buying the human soldiers time to reload.
Conway’s war brain was in full control and he saw his enemies tumble. He evaluated the situation and knew it was time.
“In!” he shouted.
He waited a split second to be sure the others had understood and then he surged towards the doorway. One of the Raggers slumped against the edge of the door tried to shoot him. He didn’t give it a chance and his Gilner rounds shattered its helmet and the head beneath. The bridge was ahead and he leapt over the carnage. A group of Ragger soldiers was bunched up on the opposite side of a circular console.
Conway’s boot landed in a patch of greasy Ragger gore and he found himself slipping. A shot thudded into his shoulder and he spun around. His foot caught a trailing wire and he fell, hitting the floor hard. He scrambled to get into a position fro
m which he could defend himself and knew he was too slow. Lockhart and Kemp stood over him firing in long bursts, the sounds intermingled with the flat crack of Zargol’s rifle.
“Clear,” said Lockhart.
“Watch that door, Sergeant,” Conway said from the floor.
He got himself upright and ordered Lonstril to turn off his cutter. The Fangrin hadn’t made a lot of progress and it wasn’t a shock given how thick the blast doors were.
“Zargol, let them in.”
The bridge door security was set to allow people out, but not in. The door opened at once and the rest of the squad rushed inside.
“Any sign of hostiles outside?” asked Conway.
“Negative. All clear.”
Conway was reluctant to believe that all the Raggers on the spaceship were dead. He assigned people to watch the doorways and kept his fingers crossed that not every enemy had the necessary authorization to get onto the bridge. Once he was satisfied, Conway approached Griffin, who was already pushing buttons on the central console.
“What now, sir?”
“What now, is that I figure out how far along the Raggers were in getting this spaceship repaired. After that? I can’t tell you.”
With the fighting over, Conway took a good look at the bridge. The room was circular and seven meters across. Aside from the soldiers his squad had killed on the way in, Conway counted a total of eighteen dead Raggers – these ones were clad in thin black material that was different to the stealth suits. They had no insignia, but Conway was sure these were the crew. The central console took up three meters of the space and it was ringed by chairs. The power was on, though most of the screens displayed error messages.
Many pieces of kit – similar to those Conway had seen in the storeroom earlier, rested on the floor. Bundles of wires linked them to interface ports on the main console and also to panels on the walls. He remembered those wires, having tripped over one on his charge into the room. Conway pressed his fingers against his shoulder where he’d taken the shot. His suit material was crushed but not split and he winced at the pain. It would bruise badly, which he counted as a good result.
Alien Firestorm (Fire and Rust Book 2) Page 17
