Relic Hunted (Crax War Chronicles #2)

by Terry W. Ervin II

  “Negative, Keesay.”

  “Understood,” I said. “Better have her hurry. We’re setting up a surprise or two in the hallway and more for our potential guests.”

  “Acknowledged,” he replied, still in a flat voice, still focusing on a dozen concerns at once. “Will let her know. Out.”

  He finished the conversation before I could ask specifically what Vingee was bringing. I decided not to contact her. She was certainly tasked with a half dozen simultaneous demands, too. Plus, a concerned audience was listening to how I responded, paying attention to more than just the words. Making eye contact with Dr. Goldsen and then the systems analysts, I said, “They’re sending us some weapons, just in case.

  “Dr. Goldsen,” I continued, “watch for Special Agent Vingee, and let me know when she arrives.”

  After she said, “I will do that,” I pointed to the two systems analysts. “You two gentlemen, with me. Let’s move some equipment and see if we can find a plastic cover or tarp of some sort.”

  A few minutes later, after moving the carts filled with computer equipment to form a barricade across from the main door, Dr. Goldsen called to me from her office, “Special Agent Vingee is just down the hallway.”

  At the same time, Maintenance Tech Yin rushed up to me. “Specialist,” he said, “the reactor is out of service.”

  I turned to face him. “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, wide-eyed, brushing his straight bangs aside. “I ran through the startup procedure twice. That was the response.”

  I called to Dr. Goldsen, “Can you find anything on your system about the backup generator being out of service?”

  Agent Vingee pushed an aluminum cart around a ladder in the hallway and into the research lab. She had a medium duty laser carbine slung over her shoulder and two replacement battery clips affixed to her belt. “Keesay,” she said, trying to catch her breath.

  I looked her way. “One moment,” and returned my attention to the maintenance tech in front of me.

  Tech Yin said, “Tech Gorgio has a class two maintenance rating on fusion reactor systems.”

  Frustrated with myself for assuming since both were Class 2 Maintenance Technicians it wouldn’t matter, I asked, “Can you handle the electrical and lighting contingency?”

  Tech Yin nodded, so I said, “Tell Gorgio of the problem and then trade off.”

  The tech trotted past Vingee and her cart overloaded with laser carbines, MP rifles and several MP pistols.

  “Thank you, Agent Vingee,” I said, forcing a smile.

  She wiped sweat from her brow. “Five Magnetic Pulse carbines, four medium duty laser carbines and three Magnetic Pulse pistols. The MP carbines are military issue and hardened against EMPs. The others are vulnerable.”

  “Understood,” I said.

  She pointed to the plastic crate underneath. “Charged battery clips for the lasers and powered ones for the MP carbines. The pistols only have one clip, loaded, set on safe.” She smiled. “I also tossed in some bottled water and nutrition packs.”

  “Thank you. I have nothing to report other than Dr. Goldsen has directed me to prepare to resist intrusion by enemy forces with resources on hand.”

  From her office, Dr. Goldsen called, “Specialist Keesay, there is no record of the backup generator being down for maintenance. Maintenance records indicate it was checked three days ago.”

  Agent Vingee looked from Dr. Goldsen’s office to me. “If you find something abnormal or suspicious, Agent Keesay, report it to Agent Guymin.”

  “Understood,” I said. “Again, thank you. I suspect you have plenty to do and not enough time to do it.”

  Vingee nodded once. “I do. And don’t think I didn’t see that modern pistol tucked in your belt.” She winked before turning and striding out the door.

  As soon as she left, I directed Systems Analysts Frist and Bowser to get the plastic tarp spread in front of the main entrance and ready for the specially prepared gel that was already being spread in the hallway, except for a narrow path where Tech Yin, Dr. Chahal and Med Tech Corbett were on ladders working on the lights. Both analysts were heavy set, but Bowser’s dark hair was cropped short, while Frist’s was red, long, and straight. Bowser was older and appeared more knowledgeable with the systems than she was.

  The carbines weren’t loaded, and I wasn’t sure how knowledgeable or experienced Dr. Goldsen’s staff was with firearms. I decided to load and set them on safe. The laser carbines were the most fragile but just as easy to use as the MP firearms. As long as they were pointed in the right direction—away from friendlies—it shouldn’t be a problem. I looked around the room and up at the balcony-like second tier. I wouldn’t distribute the weapons unless a ground assault was imminent. It’d take a little time for the Crax and their allies to get from their drop ships to the surface and fight their way down to us in the experimental medical facility. Surface bombardment would be the first threat to survive. But, if they did come, and in numbers, I feared they’d reach us—if we were an objective.

  My com-set picked up general chatter as it switched from frequency to frequency. It became obvious that we weren’t the only areas preparing for the Crax penetrating Io’s defenses and invading the colony.

  Tech Gorgio almost ran into Med Tech Yaley pushing another cart filled with gel into the hallway. I set aside a loaded MP carbine and said, “Report.”

  “The backup micro-fusion generator is online.” Her voice vacillated between confidence and concern. “I was able to bypass circuitry, making it ready for temporary service.”

  “What does temporary mean?”

  “When it starts up, it’ll be under condition yellow. I don’t know how long that’ll last before it trips to red and goes into automatic shutdown. My tech rating and security clearance can’t override that.”

  I met her eyes with a hard stare. “Was the malfunction due to tampering?”

  She thought for a few breaths before answering. “Yes.”

  “Explain,” I said.

  The Class 2 Maintenance Tech glanced down at my Class 4 rating, which only Relic Techs were given, and appraised me with a raised eyebrow.

  Ignoring her skepticism, I grinned before saying, “Layman terms will suffice.”

  She smiled back and nodded. “The only reason it was detected is because Tech Yin interfaced directly with the computer. The standby signal it was sending out to the energy control systems was green. But if it would’ve been signaled to start up by external command, it would’ve gone into automatic shutdown. My guess is that it would’ve sent a false signal. A containment fracture or something.”

  “You need to report this to Colony Command.” I glanced back over my shoulder. “Dr. Goldsen will get you communication clearance. I’ll help pave the way for that.”

  Tech Gorgio looked hesitant, but nodded once.

  “Dr. Goldsen!” I called into her office, above the din of her busy staff. When she looked up, I continued. “Tech Gorgio needs to report sabotage of our generator. It may be widespread. See that it gets done.”

  I gripped Gorgio’s shoulder. “Good job!” When she began trotting over to Dr. Goldsen’s office, I added, “Then get back on connecting that cable.”

  When she was in the office, I adjusted my com-set. “Special Agent Guymin, this is Keesay.”

  “Go ahead,” he said after a five second delay.

  “Maintenance Tech Gorgio has determined that the Cranaltar Research Facility’s backup micro-fusion generator has been tampered with. Probable sabotage. I’ve directed her to report it to Colony Command, through Dr. Goldsen.”

  “Understood. Will coordinate with Colony Command and Control. Out.”

  With that taken care of, I assisted the systems analysts in their task and helped Yin run the high power capacity cable behind some panels before jutting out and into the conductive gel spread across the plastic tarp.

  Gorgio was in Dr. Goldsen’s office, installing the first of two har
d switches to it. This particular trap was predicated on the Crax not proceeding down the hallway to take out the generator. Some of it would depend on how much detail of the colony’s layout they had, and their priorities. If the tampering was coordinated with their attack, the likelihood that they’d attempt to disable the generator should be remote.

  The staff stood around me behind our barricade set up ten yards from Dr. Goldsen’s office, leaving roughly twenty yards between it and the main entrance. While I reviewed the basics of safe handling and use of the MP firearms and laser carbines, Dr. Goldsen remained in her office, monitoring reports and communications. I’d already established who would stand with me behind the barricade of toppled carts and piled equipment and who’d be posted in along the second tier, and who’d remain in the office with Dr. Goldsen.

  The delivery of the weapons, the discovered tampering with the backup generator, and knowledge that the entire base was preparing for attack, including a possible ground assault, had galvanized them to a unified purpose. They’d been a team for some time, many for at least a decade, and they realized that I was the only one among them with any combat experience. Dr. Lundox and Analyst Bowser had some experience with magnetic pulse sidearms, but that was it. And the fact that Med Tech Marshner had tried to assassinate me, a colleague of theirs for three years, wasn’t lost on them. Nor on me.

  Were there CGIG, and thus potentially Crax, sympathizers still among them? Or somewhere critical on the base? At least one individual in Maintenance or Engineering had tampered with the backup generator. I didn’t share the communications received over my com-set indicating at least three other micro-fusion generators were similarly affected.

  The muted orange alert switched to a pulsing red, accompanied by a claxon, sounding three blasts that reminded me of a chain saw trying to cut steel plating. It was followed by an authoritative female voice, announcing, “Vessels of unknown origin, believed to be associated with the Crax, have been detected dropping out of condensed space on the far side of Jupiter. Communication lockdown will remain in effect. Report to assigned stations, follow assigned leader directives, await further orders.”

  With a flick of my head toward Dr. Goldsen’s office, I signaled everyone to follow me in there. Other than the limited capabilities of my com-set, she had the only direct link outside our pod.

  Everyone crowded around Dr. Goldsen’s desk, staring down at the computer display.

  “We’re tied into Umbelgarri sensors,” I said, “or we wouldn’t be getting this clear of a reading on their vessels.”

  Leaning forward, I traced my finger to three ship icons colored in emerald green, and accurately depicting the ships’ outer structures. The display showed them closing on Jupiter, opposite Io’s current orbit. Maybe they hoped to come in undetected, or at least delay detection. A more detailed representation appeared on the screen’s sidebar. “Those three spherical ships are Primus Crax medium cruisers.”

  Dr. Goldsen squinted as she gazed down, studying the screen as I touched each of the remaining representations, bringing up visual and support data. “I recognize them,” she said, “from the combat you survived near the Zeta Aquarius Dock.” She frowned and met my gaze. “Their technology is equivalent to the Umbelgarri.”

  I nodded, pointing to the other icons. “And the Primus brought plenty of firepower. A Selgum Crax heavy carrier, five heavy cruisers, and two other capital ships.” I recalled reading about strike raids against the Shards during the Silicate War. “No escorts. They don’t have the range of capital ships…it’s going to be hit and run.”

  “Mr. Keesay, they must know that reinforcements are on the way.”

  I shrugged, and said what I didn’t believe. “This could be a distraction, similar to the attack on Pluto.” I stared at the display and listened to the radio chatter. The two unidentified capital ships were the same size as the Selgum Crax cruisers. But where the Selgum ships resembled two capital Hs welded together at the crossbar, the unknown ships resembled single Hs, with the leading beams far longer than the trailing engine-bearing sections. “Dr. Goldsen, can you call up information on those two trailing ships?”

  She did. “Reports a non-standard configuration. What do you hear over your set?”

  I surveyed several channels. “Our ships are forming for a defense. Responding to Umbelgarri ground control directives. Wait,” I said, “tie your computer into command frequency alpha-three.”

  While she did that, Dr. Lundox said, “All systems and equipment are deactivated and in safe-mode. Should we drop security doors and activate security systems?”

  “Good reminder, Dr. Lundox,” I said. “Give us a moment.” Even before I finished, Dr. Goldsen had raised a direct Umbelgarri feed onto a corner of the display.

  I expected a translation to appear. It didn’t. I didn’t require it. During the process to ensure my brain’s neural functions emerged intact after enduring the Cranaltar, the Umbelgarri had inserted the ability for me to read and interpret their visual language. One of their thralls said it was necessary for the process to succeed. So, I watched, interpreting the shifting mosaic patterns of colors that comprised Umbelgarri communication, and felt my stomach tighten. Ground assault imminent. That’s what the Umbelgarri said. The two trailing capital ships must be troop transports. Assault ships equipped with ground assault pods or shuttles.

  My thoughts shifted from surviving a bombardment to surviving invading waves of insectoid Stegmars backed by reptilian Crax. I recalled their defense screens and armored elite Crax warriors. “The Io colony has fourteen security specialists. How many Colonial Marines. A platoon?” I was pretty sure, but wanted verification. Asking Dr. Goldsen wasn’t likely to provide an answer, and contacting Guymin? Well, we had what we had. None were going to show up and support us here.

  “Not very many, Mr. Keesay,” Dr. Goldsen responded, still not using my proper title. “Military stationing is not my area. Why do you ask?”

  “Assault ships,” I said. “The rows of giant rivets lining those two unknown capital ships are drop pods.”

  “That verifies what you had suspected?” she asked, bracing herself, knowing the answer. Until that moment, I think she’d intellectually recognized the possibility, but the consequences just struck home. Not only for her, but several others huddled around the desk screen.

  “They’re upgraded Stegmar assault ships. That means Stegmar Mantis shock troops. They intend to invade the colony.”

  Dr. Goldsen adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses with one hand while absentmindedly searching through a lab coat pocket with her other hand. “To what purpose that bombardment couldn’t achieve?”

  “We’re pretty far underground. Umbelgarri construction. Ensure destruction of the Umbelgarri sector, this research facility. Capture scientists and critical personnel, both human and Umbelgarri?” I shrugged. Thinking of Pluto, I said, “Or a diversion to draw ships in the solar system from a primary objective. Not counting Pluto, we may be the recipients of an additional, secondary attack. A diversion.”

  Over my com-set, Dr. Goldsen’s system, and the public intercom, the same female voice of Colony Command announced, “Enemy ground assault imminent. Enact Delta Four Four. Prepare to repel ground assault.”

  Dr. Goldsen reached over to a corner of her desk screen and cancelled flashing red lights throughout the research lab. “Security Specialist Keesay,” she said with grim resignation, “I am placing you in charge of our defense. Defense of this research facility.”

  Chapter 6

  There was time before our ships, few that they were, engaged the oncoming Crax taskforce. Engaged as opposed to intercepted as it appeared the defenders were willing to risk Jupiter’s gravitational pull, limiting their speed and acceleration, in exchange for Io’s defense satellites and surface-to-space defenses. Either way, I figured they were outgunned. We had one capital ship, an Umbelgarri battle cruiser. It was probably superior to any single Crax ship on approach, but it was our only capital ship. Th
e support ships—two police cutters and one gunboat—couldn’t even be classified as escorts along the lines of a frigate or destroyer. The technology they employed, including engines, maneuverability, targeting and firepower was woefully outclassed. And our fighters and attack craft? They’d be outnumbered by those launched from the enemy heavy carrier. Beyond that, ours would be like World War II era propeller-driven fighters facing early 21st century jet fighters.

  No messages from Pluto. The early warnings had to be from message rockets that could condense space, delivering the information faster than the speed of light. It’d be four hours before any old-style radio transmissions would reach Jupiter and the colonies on her orbiting moons.

  The battle around Pluto was already over. How long would the battle for Io last? Would it be over before reinforcements arrived?

  I’d assigned everyone to their defense positions, paired with people they knew best, hoping that would encourage them to stand and fight.

  The Cranaltar Research Facility was pretty far down, so we wouldn’t be the first area in the colony attacked. Maybe the enemy would focus on penetrating the Umbelgarri sector, and ignore us? I shook my head, knowing that wasn’t in the cards.

  “Have we missed something?” Dr. Chahal asked, standing to my right as we gathered around Dr. Goldsen’s desk.

  “Probably,” I said. “We’ll know, doubtless when it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  Dr. Chahal rubbed his chin with his forefinger and thumb, and gave me a half smile.

  “Nonsense,” Dr. Goldsen said, standing across from me.

  Dr. Chahal had suggested stringing glass containers holding acids above the door and a short distance into the main room, which could be shot by any defender, catching any attacker beneath them in a debilitating, if not deadly downpour. Having shotgun rounds, I was considered the primary defender to target them. In the end, we decided against it. The spray might damage the plastic and cable placed to catch any Gar Crax in an electrical discharge.