Echoes of Esharam

by Robert Davies

  THE BIG SHIP drifted silently in the darkness, creating an unnerving sensation of helpless vulnerability for its crew. Backlit against a supermassive star glowing crimson and orange, a Khorran cruiser alone and deep inside Anashi space would have been unthinkable only a handful of days earlier. Instead, it had been given safe passage from a hastily established demilitarized zone near the Revallan common border as if it was nothing more important than a mineral barge. The cruiser’s captain had been given her orders directly from Admiral Degrem, yet that fact did little to ease her apprehension.

  Nestled firmly into one of the ship’s ventral docking ports, a fast assault ship waited for its crew. They had been told to release the machine from its clamps when a lone Anashi lander approached with the proper code identification, but little else was known. When the signal came, authentication protocols were verified and the captain ordered the assault ship disengaged from its moorings to drift, dark and unattended until the odd-looking shuttle began its approach. From a distance, the Khorran bridge staff watched through a viewport as the lander moved in close to extend a short umbilicus and moments later, the assault ship blinked suddenly to life, disengaging neatly as it turned and accelerated quickly into the void. The Anashi shuttle maneuvered, too, following a reciprocal course without a word. The cruiser’s captain aimed her ship toward the border Hyperthread and ordered the helm to flank speed, grateful their mission was complete and free of incident.

  As they sped from the rendezvous, Rantara smiled from the assault ship’s control station.

  “I’m glad I don’t have to ride home in that thing,” she frowned; “they’ll be on high alert and nervous all the way to the frontier.”

  Hesset joined them and Norris stood beside her, surveying the familiar interior.

  “This is just like the one we lifted from those poor bastards on Kalarive; maybe a little bigger, but still…”

  “This is a GX-class ground assault vessel, Darrien,” Rantara noted; “it has more firepower than the ship we borrowed, but the best part is the masking generators; Tindas said they work quite well and a few of our shock frigates are equipped with them now.”

  Hesset nodded slowly and remembered those first terrible moments when the Khorrans took her, grateful to be on the other side of an invisible stealth ship’s astonishing capabilities.

  “Borrowed?” Norris said with an obvious sneer.

  Rantara ignored him for a moment, then she smiled and said, “Very well, Darrien; the ship we stole from Kalarive.”

  “Please continue,” he laughed.

  “We have our own shuttle,” she noticed, “and I see this vessel has been equipped with a considerably expanded medical bay; Banen should be pleased.”

  Hesset nodded toward a holographic representation of the quadrant.

  “How long to Esharam?” she asked.

  “It’s on the far side of Porseth territory,” Rantara replied, “but one of two stable Hyperthreads passes quite near that system; once we’re inside a thread, approximately four days.”

  It was time to see what Settis left for Norris in the Transceptor’s vast storage cells and he waited while Banen followed Haleth’s instructions that brought the machine to life where it had been placed in the ship’s shuttle bay. No one mentioned it, but Banen seemed perfectly comfortable manipulating the controls until it was ready for the information download. As it had been when Haleth demonstrated the strange device in their first days out from Kalarive, the process was brief and when he stepped from the machine’s pedestal, Norris smiled at the thoughts wandering through his mind, copied faithfully from Settis’ memories of Esharam and the Merchants’ archives.

  “This is weird,” he said. “I’ve never set foot on that planet, but I can see it all in full detail.”

  “Good,” Rantara replied; “We’ll need your new memories to get inside.”

  “I can see those spider soldiers and they’re a lot bigger than I thought they’d be.”

  Rantara shrugged and said, “They’re not invincible, Darrien, no matter what Toa believes. Any other details we should know about?”

  “They stink, apparently,” he snickered loudly; “Settis hated being anywhere near them.”

  Rantara looked away with mild annoyance and said, “Anything useful?”

  Norris recomposed himself and returned to the task at hand.

  “The Merchants installed motion detectors to pick up intruders on foot like Qural said, but they’re way the hell out on the perimeter near the anti-orbital batteries—almost two kilometers. I can see the locations in Settis’ memories; if we land inside that ring of sensors, they’ll never know we’re here until it’s too late.”

  “Perhaps they employ optical systems for shorter range detection?” Hesset wondered.

  “No,” Norris replied. “Toa’s people think any threat can be neutralized by their air defense positions, and at long-range—the motion sensors were put there almost as an afterthought.”

  Rantara stood and walked to a console in the space between two bulkhead supports and selected a two-dimensional layout of the Merchants’ compound where it sat alone at one end of a long, shallow valley.

  “If what Darrien sees in Settis’ memories is correct, it means they didn’t seriously anticipate anyone getting through the planetary defenses to the surface.”

  She pointed to a visual reference image from the ship’s computers, showing a three-dimensional representation of the Merchants’ compound.

  “We land here, well-inside their sensory perimeter, but out of sight from the archive itself. First, we have to eliminate their communications array and power distribution sub-stations. Hesset will handle this part, targeting from medium range; the guns on our shuttle are more than sufficient to knock down their comm dish and destroy the sub-stations.”

  “The Merchants maintain backups,” Norris added, “but we should be inside and moving before they come online.”

  Rantara turned to Theriani.

  “You’re better at covert insertion than any of us, so you’ll approach first from the ridgeline on the south side of this valley. The hill in front of the archive’s main entrance will provide good cover for you to evaluate and report their movements. When you’re in position, Hesset will open fire from the shuttle to take down the comm dish and power. She’ll land and join you to cover the entrance.”

  Norris smiled and nodded, looking at a small armory compartment and the heavy caliber sniper rifles it held.

  “When these bastards pour out to attack, they’ll blunder into Theriani’s line of sight.”

  “Exactly,” Rantara said. “Their force will be divided immediately, which should make things easier for us to infiltrate through the secondary entrance and press our attack from the far side of the facility. We should be able to neutralize most of the Kez by the time we meet somewhere in the middle. We’ll make a sweep and clear out the last soldiers still alive and then Banen will unmask the ship and move it up to the compound.”

  Norris looked at Rantara for a moment as the others considered the plan and their roles. He saw in her resolve and calm much more than the face of tyrannical power she held inside Bera Nima. Instead, the highly trained military professional who won respect on battlefields long before she met Tremmek had emerged once more. She had been an exceptional soldier and her natural ability to lead was obvious, but there was more. Beyond her physical strength, Rantara brought a clear and patient intelligence few understood. She enjoyed the brutal nature of battle, it was true, but she was much more than a walking weapon or aimless killing machine and he smiled with admiration at a violent artist of war, comfortable in her element.

  “After we deal with these idiots, we can move on to the last task inside the central library chamber,” he said, pointing to a spherical room deep in the facility’s core. Hesset looked on, but a detail disturbed her.

  “We have the Transceptor to receive the memories from Darrien, but how are they to be uploaded to him when we are inside the facili
ty?”

  “Their mechanism is similar to the Transceptor,” Banen answered, “but considerably larger and integral to the archive’s infrastructure. Also, the interface is located much deeper within the facility—underground and directly beneath the cataloguing area.”

  “Can you make it work?” asked Rantara.

  “Yes; Haleth understood from his conversations with Settis how to access the files and he briefed me on its operation before we left Fells Moll. Thankfully, the procedure is nearly identical to that of our own Transceptor.”

  “There is one other detail,” Rantara said as she circled the image of the compound with a finger. “Darrien, are there any images in Settis’ memories that the Kez are equipped for low-light combat environments? When the power comes down, it will go black inside the archive until the backups engage. We have vision enhancement plates built into our helmets, but every time I’ve fought them, it was in daylight.”

  “They have no light amplifiers that Settis knew of,” he replied, “but there’s not much on the subject from his recollections.”

  “The Kez’Erel don’t react well to changing battle environments,” Rantara continued, “but also, the restricted quarters inside will certainly work to our advantage. This will be just like any other urban engagement, Darrien; we’ll use grenades to maximize the effect of confined spaces, clearing each room, one by one.”

  Norris paced around in a circle.

  “Settis knew they’re not prepared for something like this,” he said. “It’s weird, but for all their reputation as fearsome killers, the Kez’Erel are vulnerable if you take their laser guns out of the fight; doing this in close quarters will make it hard for them to get a target lock.”

  “Don’t get too close,” Rantara cautioned; “they may be ponderous, but their mandibles can do considerable damage.”

  They looked on for a while as Rantara scrolled through images of the archive’s layout Norris drew from Settis’ memories. Each knew the mission was within their grasp and he smiled at Rantara.

  “We’re on schedule and the Merchants have no idea we’re coming their way; this is going to be an interesting visit.”

  “They’ll find out soon enough,” she said with a low tone of determination and Norris grinned at the thought.

  “Better them than us.”

  INSIDE THE SHIMMERING tunnel of a Hyperthread, boredom had become a persistent and unwelcome companion. Most passed the time studying briefing material about Esharam and the Merchants’ archive facility, or dozing in the crew rest compartments. On the second day, Banen found Norris on the command deck where he made a detailed inspection of the ships systems.

  After a few training sessions made easier by a Khorran technician’s thoughtful upgrade of control menus with an English language option, Rantara was finally satisfied with Norris’ piloting skills. Banen took his turn at the controls, too, but Rantara seemed to yell at the doctor far less than she had when Norris was in the seat. When he complained, she simply ignored him and demanded even more practice sessions until he satisfied her expectations. When they reached the exit gate nearly fifty hours later, the ship slowed as it moved on a tangential course from below the system’s orbital plane, closing with each passing minute to where Esharam waited.

  The closer of two neighboring planets to Esharam was a mostly featureless, rocky world that reminded Norris of the Moon. Like Saturn, it held a thin collection of rings, but they were ragged and uneven. Hesset wondered aloud if the debris was the remnant pieces of an earlier, violent event, captured forever in gravity’s unyielding grip.

  Beyond, binary stars glared red and pale blue, each following opposite timelines to the same end; one burning fierce and quickly, while its companion lingered in the last moments of a much longer existence. Norris stood close to Rantara and marveled again at nature’s wonders, but the reality of the moment became worrisome.

  “Are you sure we can get past these bastards?” he asked.

  “If everyone does their job, we’ll get through,” she replied.

  Norris admired her confidence and it lifted his spirits, but his doubts had pushed their way into his thoughts.

  “I was an ordinary attack driver, Onallin; I’ve never been in a ground assault firefight before.”

  She turned to him and said, “The scouts who found you on Karroba might not agree, Darrien; you obviously knew what you were doing that day.”

  “It wasn’t the same,” he replied. “Those guys were all standing around with their ass in their hands because they had no idea I was there; a child could’ve made those shots.”

  “Combat doesn’t change,” she said at last; “only the environment. When it starts, your instincts and training will engage—you’ll know what to do.”

  “I hope you’re right, but I don’t have a lot of choice, do I?”

  “No, you don’t,” she answered, “and that’s precisely why you’ll be fine. Survival is a very powerful motivator.”

  He nodded and said, “In the meantime, let’s go see what kind of weapons they gave us. Hey, we could start a pool and take bets on who gets the highest kill count; loser buys the beer, all right?”

  She stared at him for a moment and said, “Are all humans this fond of dark sarcasm?”

  “Only the most intelligent, handsome and desirable humans,” Norris replied quickly.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to face billions of them when the only one I know is so strange,” she sighed.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Norris answered with a smirk; “they’re gonna love you…especially Olympics organizers, now that I think of it. Most of the track and field records would get obliterated if you ever showed up with the Khorran delegation.”

  She shook her head and smiled.

  “I don’t understand anything you just said, but I’m sure it was an insult.”

  Norris grinned with folded arms and said, “You won’t be insulted when you see what kind of endorsement money they pay people who can bench press an air car or throw a javelin three hundred meters.”

  ESHARAM LOOMED IN the forward windscreen as Rantara settled into the command chair. The ship’s sensor array ranged through frequencies favored by the Merchants Professor Tindas provided, yet its alarm remained silent. Rantara looked at Norris, hoping Settis’ memories would help.

  “Would an unmasked vessel be detected by their alert system at this range?”

  “Absolutely,” Norris replied. “If this was an ordinary ship, the Merchants would’ve hailed us by now or opened fire from their ground batteries; they have no idea we’re here.”

  Less than an hour had passed when the ship eased into orbit high above Esharam. Below, the planet’s surface was mostly featureless, with patches of thin vegetation crowding near the equatorial plane. There were bands of clouds and occasional squall lines, but little in the way of weather that might hinder their approach. Norris joined Rantara where she sat at a tactical command station to examine the ship’s sensor readouts.

  “What do we have?” he asked, looking over her shoulder and still confounded by the Khorran language’s odd characters.

  “A relatively normal atmosphere, but there’s a lot of nitrogen—the Merchants picked a stupid place for their secret facility, since they have to purge it from their systems every day.”

  “I can see it in Settis’ memories; they wear their breathers all the time, just like Kol and Haleth. The Kez’Erel species thrives in it, so the Merchants put up with the inconvenience.”

  “Do the memories show anything else we might need to know?” she asked.

  “It’s always cold there,” he noted; “the Merchants go outside only when they have to. You’ll see when we land, but light and heat coming in from the system’s twin stars is barely enough to support plant life, and even at mid-day, it will look like the twilight hours on a more habitable world.”

  Rantara scrolled through live images from the ship’s survey cameras, showing a mostly flat, arid landscape with gentle hills and
surprisingly few mountain ranges. The spotty ground cover and thin, stunted trees spoke to both the planet’s dim light, but also its lack of water; only the hardiest of species would succeed in conditions so bland and dulled.

  “I must be cursed,” said Norris suddenly.

  “What curse?” Rantara replied with a frown.

  “Since I first left Earth, damn near every planet I visit ends up being a desolate shit-hole just like this—it never fails! The galaxy gods hate me…”

  “At least we know who to blame,” she smiled.

  Rantara slid the ship neatly through a pass between two ridgelines, aiming it at last for a spot on the floor of a vacant, wind-swept valley. Banen took the controls and nodded silently when Rantara pointed to a flashing icon in the windscreen’s head-up display as his target. As they dressed in their battle gear, Norris couldn’t help but stare at Hesset’s standard Anashi armor, splashed seemingly at random with narrow swaths of fluorescent orange and green.

  “You look like a regular ass-kicker!” he said with a smile.

  “It has been some time since I wore a tactical uniform, Darrien; I hope I do not appear too ridiculous.”

  “Not at all,” Norris replied. “I think it suits you.”

  Banen moved the ship into a mild, nose-up attitude for its descent through the last layers of thin, wispy clouds, slowing when the artificial gravity plates disengaged beneath their feet. With a flick of his thumb, the lift engines whined to life and the ship banked gently on its approach to the valley east of the Merchants’ compound. Norris eyed the ship’s threat receiver, suddenly more grateful for its masking capability than he had been before when it showed no returns. At last, the machine settled between two gentle hillocks on the valley floor.

  They moved with the disciplined purpose demanded of their task, saying nothing as they gathered their equipment and waited at the cargo bay’s aft ramp. When it settled on the ground with a muted thud, Norris remembered a similar moment months before when he prepared for the first forays around his crashed 690 shuttle in the oppressive heat of Karroba 118. As it was then, the tension was rising, pushed on its way by a jolt of adrenalin he couldn’t avoid. He watched the others, wondering if they battled their own jitters and fears, yet none seemed to notice. It was not surprising to see a calm and determined presence in the faces of Rantara and Theriani—both were experienced and seasoned veterans of live combat—but Hesset’s manner was almost serene. She was an academic, unaccustomed to battle, yet she waited to mount the small, angular shuttle with a confidence Norris admired.