Galactic Arena Box Set

by Dan Davis

  The wheeler got hit. A series of slugs hammered into it, thudding through its suit, its skin, smacking into the hub and the legs and dropping the huge creature as she ran right by it.

  All of a sudden, the route ahead was clear. No wheelers between her and the big, beautiful shuttle sitting on the runway and shining under the light of an alien sun. Sanctuary. Home.

  Still, every step she expected a stray bullet or ball of plasma to hit her between the shoulder blades and she did not feel safe until she stormed up the ladder and threw herself into her cockpit and fell to her knees, fighting to stay conscious while everything whirled. When she dragged herself to her feet and fell into the chair, her hands shook so hard that she could not operate the control panels and she fought to catch her breath enough to speak.

  “Hello, Kat,” Sheila said, affecting a concerned tone of voice. “It appears that the shuttle is in danger. Preparations for launch are complete. Would you like to lift off now?”

  Kat shook her head, her eyes screwed shut and sucking in air. “No,” she managed. “No. Wait. Hold.”

  “Holding confirmed.”

  Kat’s ERANS stepped down as she relaxed and already she could feel the hangover starting. She would need to dose herself to get through the next few minutes, and the next few hours and perhaps even days, depending where the Sentinel was. Her PDA was in the box next to her seat and she took it to the doorway to provide cover for Sergeant Stirling.

  He wasn’t the only one heading to the Lepus.

  A dozen wheelers were within range of her short-barreled weapon, all on the tail of the sergeant. His armor was damaged and he limped drastically but was keeping a remarkably fast pace. Kat took aim at the wheelers and opened up in bursts, one after the other. An alien fell after her second burst. Then another and a third before she had to swap her magazine. She cursed herself and her terrible aim and the absurd rate of fire of the stupid, bloody weapon.

  That was when Stirling fell. Two rounds of alien plasma hit him on the side and he went down. Close enough that she heard his scream of agony through the comms system as he fell.

  Kat tried to stop the rest of them but they closed on the sergeant. Stirling shot from the ground, taking out two more before the last group surrounded him, their weapons out and ready.

  Were they going to take him prisoner? Or did they just want to kill him with their bare hands? She fired the rest of her ammo at them. Plasma rounds hit her shuttle and she ducked back inside, sprawling on the floor. She forced herself to get to her knees and look out. Kat had no desire to see the sergeant torn apart but she had to do something. Throw rocks, shout at them, something, anything.

  She felt it before she heard it. The regular, deep sound of the large caliber weapon firing. The tight grouping of wheelers standing over Sergeant Stirling blew apart as the slugs tore into them. The aliens were even hit with repeated plasma rounds, the smoking bursts burning through the creatures like butter. The aliens rolled away in panic but the steady firing continued, cutting them down before they could escape.

  Her first thought was that it was a turret or a drone, perhaps. But a blast of wind tore away the dense smoke between her and the outpost.

  Rama Seti strode up out of the trench and marched down the bank, firing obliquely into the wheelers with his machine gun. Absurdly, he had a human slung over each shoulder—a Marine on one and a civilian on the other.

  Beside him, a wheeler rolled forward at the same pace, shooting a plasma pistol in each hand at the other aliens.

  “What the fuck,” Kat whispered. Many times, she had hallucinated following a drug overdose. But those momentary delusions were never anything close to what she was seeing now.

  Rama strode forward, his long legs driving him on. He stooped to grab the wounded sergeant and he dragged the man by the back straps of his webbing. Seti pulled a barely-conscious Stirling in a sort of seated position with his ass in the air and his ankles bouncing on the ground. Stirling, facing backward, fired single shots into the smoke and dust that obscured the outpost.

  Behind them and the wheeler, two more Marines emerged carrying a civilian on a stretcher and then a third Marine came on with a civilian limping beside him, an arm around his neck. A forth with a sniper rifle took up the rear, turning and firing every few paces at the aliens wheeling out of the drifting smoke.

  “Sheila, open the ramp. We have visitors.”

  Kat ran down the hatch and into the hold as the ramp descended and the group came into view, their weapons firing at enemies unseen. She stood at the lip until it touched down then helped the stretcher bearers in with the wounded civilian, directing them to use the straps to tie it fast to the floor. The walking wounded civilian slumped against a Marine.

  “Get her upstairs and into a passenger chair,” Kat shouted at the Marines. Someone unconscious and on their back on a stretcher would be okay but there was no telling what g’s she would have to pull once in the air and the walking wounded needed to be in reclining in a reentry chair.

  The wheeler waited at the lip with the Marine sniper, firing over and over. Stirling sat on his ass, leaned back on the edge of the ramp, shooting his battle rifle.

  “Whipsaw drone, incoming,” Sergeant Stirling shouted.

  Incoming fire splashed against her shuttle. Every impact made Kat shudder and pray for no damage.

  The Marines helped remove the wounded men from Rama Seti’s shoulders who were lashed down to the giant’s webbing with weapon slings. One of the men was Dr. Fo. The other was Sergeant Gruger. Seti went back to the black rock and opened fire into the enemy.

  He aimed high with the large caliber rifle and fired quick bursts.

  “Get them upstairs and into chairs,” she ordered the Marines. None of them liked it. “Then you strap in, too.”

  “Incoming!”

  An impact outside drummed into the ground and someone cheered. “Enemy whipsaw drone down,” Ram shouted, elation in his voice.

  Kat ran to the ramp and looked out. The dust was still settling but the drone was largely intact. She made a quick assessment of its dimensions and calculated the volume available in her cargo hold. It would be a tight fit. The drone was massive. Over two meters even on the shortest side, with a number of jutting thruster nozzles all over it. But it was too great a prize to give up. And analyzing its capabilities might just give the Sentinel another edge in the fight.

  “Mr. Seti,” she said. “Do you think you could get the drone into the shuttle, please?”

  He hesitated. “Is that a good idea? We don’t know if it could still be dangerous.”

  “Exactly,” Kat said. “Get it on board. Drag it up and secure it, please? Now, come on. Get it up the ramp, now. Move it.”

  Almost immediately, she regretted the delay but Ram was immensely strong and he manhandled the massive alien drone up the ramp almost singlehanded while the others covered him.

  “Come on,” Kat shouted at them. “Get to your seats and I’ll take off. The wheeler’s coming with us, right? Tell it to strap in or something.” She certainly was not going to help it to do so. “Ram! Come on, now. I’m taking off.”

  As she hurried forward, she met the three Marines coming back into the cargo hold.

  “We’re not staying, sir,” one of them said. HARRIS was stamped on his helmet. The others nodded to her and wished her good luck as they jogged down the ramp.

  Seti dragged Stirling onto the ramp. The man was swearing and cursing Rama’s name, over and over, demanding that he be left on the surface.

  “You’d be a hindrance to them,” Ram shouted at him as he lashed the Marine to the floor of the cargo hold next to the civilian on the stretcher. Kat noticed for the first time that the sergeant’s armor had a jagged hole at one hip. A hole so big that it reached from the hip round to his lower back. Inside looked wet. “You’d be a hindrance. Now, lay the fuck down and shut up, Sergeant Stirling.”

  The big Marine fell back, groaning, while the giant used the cargo straps to t
ie him in place.

  “Are you staying with us?” Kat asked Ram.

  He glanced at the wheeler, which sat hunched in the corner like a monstrous spider. “I’m staying.”

  She felt a non-specific sense of relief flick through her. “Get in your chair upstairs then.” Kat ran past, jumped up the ladder and leapt into her chair. “We have four Marines withdrawing under us, Sheila. When they’re clear, get us in the air.”

  The engines were already humming and while Kat secured herself, the AI released the brakes and she surged forward, bouncing down the airstrip.

  Questions and fears bubbled up, her anxiety fizzing in the aftershocks of her drug overdose. Would the repaired landing gear hold? Had the aliens mined the airstrip? Would the other hasty repairs keep the old girl in the air or would she tear herself apart? Did the wheelers construct AA guns this time? Those questions flowed through her and she let them go. Nothing to be done but to gun the engines and pray.

  The hold full with the alien drone weighed her down far more than she had anticipated. She eased the Lepus into a steep ascent and the engines roared, pushing them skyward. The outpost’s engineers had done a marvelous job on the old girl in such a short time.

  The monitors blinked into life and showed the outpost below.

  It was overrun.

  Wheelhunters streamed into the structure from three directions, climbing over the roof and cutting their way in through the walls. Explosions rippled everywhere. The system tracked visible humans below, living and dead. The Marines that she had left behind attacked their flank hard, advancing rapidly in twos while the others covered them.

  Ram’s voice came over the comms. “Hello? Can you hear me? What’s happening out there?”

  “They’re overrun,” Kat said. “Still fighting. But they’re overrun.”

  Even though she needed to dose herself to stay mentally competent, reaching orbit went without a hitch. The AI really did not need her to do anything but Kat could not help but check and double check everything. It was too important not to.

  When they reached 50,000 meters from the outpost, the wheeler jamming tech faded into nothing. At that point, Sheila found a small, disbursed fleet of UNOP armed drones in LEO. They relayed her signals to the Sentinel and they pinged a burst confirming a rendezvous sixteen hours out. Exhausted and overcome by the effects of the drugs, Kat faded into unconsciousness. Before she did so, she mumbled her thanks to Sheila.

  15.

  The Stalwart Sentinel was larger than the Victory had been. None of the others knew how big, exactly, nor how many crew on board. Not Dr. Fo in the copilot chair and not even Lieutenant Xenakis. Half as big again as the Victory, so Kat said as they watched the enormous battleship on the screens. Ram behind the pilot seats, filling the rest of the cockpit.

  “The vessel is of a similar maximum diameter to the Victory,” the shuttle’s AI said, cutting in to their conversation. “It is one-hundred and seventy percent the length of the Victory.”

  Figures indicating the ship’s dimensions popped up on the screen, overlaying the image with figures in all axes. The length, minus the huge spike jutting from the front labeled MagShield Bowsprit was 376 meters. The entire ship rotated, just like the Victory had.

  “Hey,” Kat said. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the docking procedure, Sheila, love?”

  “Yes, Kat. And I am speaking with the Sentinel in this moment,” the AI said.

  “Speaking?” Ram said.

  “A figure of speech,” the AI said.

  Kat laughed. “The external dimensions hardly tell the story. Much of the Victory was hollow struts and bracing. This gigantic bitch is solid. Looking at that hull plating. See the weapons pods?” She indicated parts of the ship on the screens while she spoke. “Those there are the fighter launch bays. I’m guessing laser batteries, rail guns. Cyber weapons suites in those bulbs, I reckon. God, imagine the power of this thing. The engines must be the most powerful ever conceived to push all that mass this far, this fast.”

  “Sounds good,” Ram said. “Sounds like they can deal with the wheelhunter ship with no problem. Do you think we wasted our time coming here?”

  It was Dr. Fo who answered. “Oh, please. Feeling guilty that you did not stay on the surface to die with your military colleagues? I thought I had resolved your self-destructive tendencies but I see I have more work to do.”

  Ram did not decide to act. All the same, he found himself reaching down to yank the elderly doctor out of his place, floating above the seat. Ram held him out so they were eye to eye. The old man was terrified.

  “You stay out of my brain now,” Ram growled. “Understand me?”

  “Of course,” he said, voice squeaking at the end. “Merely a joke. I swear, Rama Seti. A joke, in poor taste, and made without consideration for your feelings.”

  Feeling barely in control of himself, Ram swung Fo back into position, roughly. The doctor grasped hold of the arm rest as though it were a lifeline, breathing heavily. It was an extremely unprofessional way to act on Ram’s part but the pilot did not say anything or even indicate that she had noticed.

  “I’m not sure at what point I should tell them that I have a wheeler drone plus a live wheeler prisoner in my hold,” Kat said. “I’m thinking that if I tell them now, they might not let me dock at all. Ever. They might shoot us into pieces, assuming that we are a risk. Like, maybe we have an alien bomb on board or whatever, getting inside the defenses only to blow up the Sentinel from the inside. And I don’t know about you blokes but I don’t fancy that. Not after everything we’ve been through. But if I don’t tell them until I open the trunk and that wheeler rolls out, they’ll probably shoot us all in fear, then space us out the airlock and blow us up for good measure.”

  “Simply inform them that I am on board,” Dr. Fo said, straightening his position. “And they will not destroy us.”

  “No,” Ram said. “Tell them you are providing me with transportation. Rama Seti, hero of Orb Station Zero. Savior of humanity. They would not dare to harm me.”

  Kat snorted. Dr. Fo was not as amused.

  “Mockery is the basest form of wit,” the old man said.

  “Perhaps just warn them that we will need to be quarantined,” Ram said to Kat. “And we’ll hope that will be enough. Dr. Fo? I apologize for laying hands on you just now, that was unprofessional of me. Now, I think Kat is right about the danger of having a loose alien on the shuttle. I better go and tie up our guest.”

  “Tie it up?” Dr. Fo was shocked. “But Red helped us, did it not?”

  Ram hesitated. “I think it would be best if the officers and crew of the Sentinel don’t meet us while we’re holding hands with the enemy. Don’t you agree, Doc? And, please stop calling it Red.”

  ***

  When the cargo ramp lowered, Ram made sure to step out first, unarmed. In the Sentinel’s shuttle bay, a dozen Marines waited for them and, behind, medical personnel encased in disposable hazmat suits.

  “Hi, guys,” Ram said, moving slowly with his arms out to his side. “How are you all doing?”

  “Would all on board please step this way,” one of the Sentinel’s Marine’s said. “We have a quarantine area prepared. Please ensure you leave all weapons and ammunition and batteries on your shuttle.

  “We will,” Ram said. “There’s just a couple of points to make. We have wounded who will require assistance. Also, we have a prisoner in our custody. We will transfer custody to you but we must remain armed until we complete that transfer. I will also state and please do hear me when I say it that this prisoner entered our custody willingly and has been cooperative and compliant ever since.”

  The Lieutenant in charge of the Marines was quiet, no doubt listening to his commander’s orders. “Alright, we’ll take care of him.” The officer waved a hand and four Marines stepped forward, rifles at the ready. “Bring him out.”

  Ram held up a palm. “We will. The prisoner is a wheelhunter. It is in restraints and secured to the
cargo hardpoints.”

  The Marines stepped up a gear. Rifles were tucked up tighter and their stances turned from relaxed-but-alert guard duty into a high state of readiness. Probably, they all started dosing themselves with ViBeMax and started flexing their trigger fingers.

  “Step aside, sir,” the Lieutenant commanded.

  “I will,” Ram said, not moving. “But you have to understand what a valuable intelligence asset this individual specimen represents. We have not harmed it because it has been no threat to us. We advise you do the same.”

  “Step aside, sir,” the Lieutenant said.

  “One last thing,” Ram said, chancing a smile. “Not trying to be difficult. The whole reason we came here, rendezvoused with you, is because we have the combat data from the Victory. Data from the Victory after it engaged with the alien ship. The Captain of the Victory ordered Lieutenant Xenakis to bring it to you. His last order to her. Can she bring it out and hand it over? Every minute might count, Lieutenant.”

  Whoever was watching remotely must have shoved an aural stick up the Marine’s ass and he jerked into action. “Yes, bring it out. Immediately, please.”

  Kat carried the data block out. “How you doing, fellas?” She said, grinning and holding out the data block. “Get this to your command crew right now. I don’t know how long you have before the alien ship comes back around but it might not be as long as you think. The wheelers have a long-range beam weapon of some kind. It knocked out the Victory’s power generation and power transmission systems before we could respond.”

  A Marine took it, slowly. Reverentially. Holding it like it was a delicate flower or a highly volatile explosive, the Marine carried across the shuttle bay deck toward the door leading further into the ship.