War from a Distant Sun (Savage Stars Book 1)

by Anthony James

  Recker returned to the cockpit and opened the tall weapons locker which was bolted onto the rear bulkhead. Inside, he found four gauss rifles, a comms beacon, spare ammo, a few explosive charges and a med-box.

  “Got plans for those, sir?” asked Aston.

  “Just checking to make sure we’re properly equipped for any eventuality, Commander.”

  Recker took his seat once more and gave the instrumentation a once-over. Aston was thorough and none of the readouts offered a reason for concern. The sensor feed of Oldis hadn’t visibly improved since the spaceship first exited the Punisher’s bay and Recker wasn’t expecting that to change for another three hours or more.

  “Sometimes the shortest trips are the longest ones,” said Aston, watching his face.

  “I know what you mean.”

  The flight continued and the annihilator didn’t show up. After a while, Burner took over Eastwood’s seat in order to find out if he could extract anything from the sensors that Aston had missed.

  For a long time, he came up with nothing and the centre of the cratered area was taken blindside by the planet’s rotation. Then, with the deployment vessel about a million kilometres from Oldis, Burner began to discover some things that the Punisher had missed in its earlier forty-million-klick scan.

  “Have a look at this, sir,” he said.

  An image appeared on one of Recker’s screens, showing a circular indentation in rocky ground. The image was rough, over-enhanced and indistinct, but not so much that he didn’t recognize it.

  “This is what we thought was a crater,” he said.

  “Yes, sir. Except it’s not – it’s a massive, cylindrical hole in the planet’s surface.”

  Recker squinted, trying to judge the size of it. “Don’t tell me it’s an exact size copy of the cylinder we saw on Etrol.”

  “No, sir, this is much bigger. The diameter is approximately ten klicks and while I can’t get an accurate depth, I guess that hole goes down thirty klicks or more.”

  The image on Recker’s screen changed and this time it showed another cylindrical hole. “Identical to the first?” he asked.

  “Smaller. This one’s less than a thousand metres across and maybe three thousand deep.”

  A third image appeared.

  “This one’s much larger than the other two,” said Burner. “Fifty klicks diameter and it probably goes way down into the mantle. I estimate that an area of Oldis with a diameter of four thousand klicks is covered in these things, big and small.”

  “Ideas?” asked Recker.

  “None.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Aston shrugged and Eastwood didn’t say anything.

  “If there’s one of those metal cylinders in the middle of this area, I’d say that’s the likely cause,” said Burner.

  “Except we didn’t find anything like this on Etrol,” Eastwood pointed out.

  “Keep searching, Lieutenant Burner,” said Recker. “Once we get closer, everything might become clearer.”

  At an altitude of half a million kilometres, Burner unearthed something else.

  “The sensors on this spaceship weren’t designed for rock analysis, but they do collect basic information,” he said. “I believe there are some pretty big deposits of tenixite beneath the surface where those holes are.”

  “Ternium ore?” said Recker sharply. “Could these be extraction points?”

  “Not likely. And they certainly don’t resemble any methods of extraction we’ve seen the Daklan use. There’s probably enough tenixite on Oldis to build three more fleets the same size as the HPA’s existing one.”

  All of which made Oldis a place of immense strategic importance to both the HPA and the Daklan. However, Recker wasn’t convinced that ore extraction was the reason for these holes in the planet’s surface, though he couldn’t think of an alternative explanation.

  The spaceship flew ever closer to the planet and his hands reached of their own accord for the control sticks. The deployment ship wasn’t built to travel so fast, and deceleration from this velocity would put the vessel under greater strain than normal. Recker prepared for the approach.

  Chapter Seventeen

  For several minutes, the incision vessel’s engines howled, while an intense, grating vibration coming from under the floor made Recker’s seat shake like he was on a roller coaster car heading up the first big incline. The planet filled the forward feed and more details become apparent as the spaceship’s sensors came within their intended operational range.

  “Ice-rimed stone, near-zero atmosphere,” said Burner. “There’ll be some atmospheric friction once we reach a low altitude, but nothing our hull can’t handle.”

  Recker glanced at the tumbling velocity gauge. “Still travelling at 175 klicks per second,” he said.

  “When I said nothing our hull can’t handle…”

  “You meant sensible speeds. I understand, Lieutenant.”

  The area of Oldis they were approaching appeared almost featureless, barring some irregular lines which may have been ridges. From the current altitude, the place looked flat, though Recker wasn’t fooled - he was sure the planet would be rough going for anyone on foot.

  “Two hundred thousand klicks to impact,” joked Aston.

  Recker ignored the vibration which now seemed to come from everywhere and maintained the deceleration, putting his faith in the reliability of the HPA engineering. It hadn’t let him down yet.

  “The area we’re approaching will be day side, six thousand klicks from the edge of the circular area,” said Burner. “A fast skim over the surface and we’ll be there.”

  “Let’s hope it’s so easy,” said Recker. His eyes kept going to the console, expecting to find a bunch of warning lights. Everything was clear.

  “Altitude: one hundred thousand klicks,” said Aston.

  The velocity readout was at ninety-seven klicks per second and Recker slowed the rate of deceleration. Immediately, the vibration lessened and the respite was welcome.

  “Don’t get used to it, folks,” he warned, watching the instrumentation closely.

  Recker couldn’t stop thinking about the annihilator and how it might turn up at any moment, so he left the final period of deceleration as late as possible. The sensors were still on maximum zoom, making it seem like the deployment vessel was on the verge of crashing into the plain of stone below, and he was glad the padding in his suit gloves deadened the renewed vibration coming through the controls.

  “Fifty klicks per second,” said Aston. “Forty.”

  At an altitude of fifty klicks, Recker levelled the spaceship out with the vessel travelling at twenty klicks per second. The planet’s atmosphere was thin like Burner had said, though it was enough to cause the hull temperature to increase slowly. It wasn’t a concern and Recker wouldn’t need to pay it any attention unless he was required to fly lower.

  “From this altitude we should see the first of the craters in not much more than four minutes, sir,” said Burner. “Then an additional two minutes to find out if there’s anything in the centre of that circle.”

  “Anyone excited?” said Aston.

  “I don’t know what I feel, Commander,” said Recker. “Excitement probably isn’t high up the list.”

  In truth, he felt a growing sense of anticipation. Recker believed they were on the brink of a discovery, though he didn’t know how significant it might be. He was also acutely aware that he wasn’t exactly holding a hand full of aces – fourteen men and women in a sixty-metre deployment craft with a nose gun wasn’t much challenge to a Daklan battleship.

  With an inward smile, Recker told himself that sometimes the mouse got the cheese and escaped the cat. The cynical part of his brain reminded him that nature ensured cats and mice had a certain equilibrium. There was nothing natural about an annihilator.

  The incision craft sped across the planet’s rolling plains. Here and there, the sporadic covering of ice glistened on the feed from the distant light
of Exim-K, making it seem like the spaceship flew over a patchwork of sharply contrasting greys.

  “The edge of the target area should be in sight any time now, sir,” said Burner, making some changes to the sensor panel. “I’ll try and get us a sharp image.”

  “Look at that,” said Aston, peering intently at the screen.

  A dark line appeared on the horizon, becoming thicker with each passing moment. Gradually, the details resolved and Recker could see that he was looking at thousands of individual holes in the planet’s surface. It was a sight he was expecting, yet it appeared much more dramatic – more destructive – from such a close range.

  “Why?” Aston asked simply.

  “Don’t ask me, Commander. Maybe we’ll find out soon.”

  “Sixty seconds and we’ll have a view of what lies at the centre,” said Burner.

  “And no way to pass the intel back to base,” said Eastwood.

  “If it’s important enough, we’ll head into space and lay low for however long it takes for the HPA to send another warship,” said Recker. “I’m bringing us lower.”

  It was still possible the Daklan had an outpost here on Oldis and he didn’t want them getting an early sight of the incision craft. He reduced altitude, watching the ground come up to meet the spaceship.

  “Ten klicks,” he said. “Five.”

  “We’re getting warm,” said Aston.

  Recker didn’t reduce velocity – the incision craft were designed for rapid deployment and that meant their hulls could withstand the heat for long enough to deliver their cargo of troops. At such a low altitude, the spaceship shook with the turbulence and he made constant small adjustments to keep it steady. If he made an error at this speed, it would be catastrophic.

  Soon, the spaceship was directly over the area which was covered in holes and the sight was a mixture of bizarre and impressive. The placement and size seemed completely random – sometimes there were large gaps between the openings, while at others they were nearly touching.

  “I’m getting a reading from the bottom of those holes,” said Burner, sounding puzzled.

  “What is it?” asked Recker. “Do I need to worry about it?”

  “Checking. It’s a material I haven’t come across before. There’s nothing in the databanks of this vessel either, sir.”

  “Let’s not worry about it, Lieutenant. I want to find out what’s ahead of us, not what’s underneath.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Recker held on tightly. It was a long time since he’d flown a craft like this in anger and it was testing his skills in a different way to flying something bigger like the Punisher. A fleet warship was far too dense and heavy to be affected by mere turbulence, while this incision class felt like it was right on the edge of flipping over in mid-air and crashing to the ground.

  “Got it!” said Burner excitedly. “A metal object…another cylinder, sir! This one is on its side.”

  “Any sign of Daklan?”

  “I can’t find anything on the ground and there’s nothing visible in the sky.”

  Recker knew the limitations of the incision craft’s sensor hardware. There could be Daklan a few thousand kilometres overhead and Burner wouldn’t find them easily. Hell, the enemy could hide an entire fleet in some of the larger holes and the first anyone on the deployment ship would know about it would be when the missile detonated against the nose section. This mission had always been about risk and nothing had changed.

  “Tell me what you can, Lieutenant,” said Recker. “I need to know if we’re sticking around or running for the stars.”

  “It’s taking a moment to enhance the feed.”

  Burner got a high-quality stream up on the forward screen, which gave Recker an excellent view of what lay ahead. The cylinder was lying crossways to the spaceship’s approach, in the middle of a thousand-klick-diameter area completely clear of holes.

  “It’s damaged,” said Recker.

  “More than damaged,” said Aston.

  The alien object was the same size as the one on Etrol and would likely have been identical in appearance were it not for the dozens of holes in its casing. When he saw them, Recker understood at once that they were created by high-yield missiles, which had ruptured the cylinder’s thick outer plating and left wicked-edged blades of torn alloy jutting in many directions.

  “What knocked it over?” asked Eastwood, leaning against the back of Aston’s seat so that he could get a closer look at the sensor feeds.

  Recker wasn’t sure and the approach angle made it hard to see how much damage the cylinder had sustained at its base. He banked slightly, hoping they might get a better view.

  “Still no sign of hostiles,” said Burner. “There again, the Daklan could have a battleship parked on the opposite side and we wouldn’t see it from here.”

  He was right – the cylinder’s two-thousand-metre diameter meant it blocked the sight of anything which might be on the far side. Recker knew he could increase altitude in order to improve the viewing angle, but he didn’t make any changes to the vector in case the deployment craft became easier to detect.

  “If the Daklan have something parked up out of sight, they don’t know we’re coming either.”

  “And the moment we show our faces, they’ll have a shot at us.”

  “Assuming they’re in a better state of readiness than the desolator on Etrol,” said Eastwood with a humourless laugh.

  “You’re forgetting about those incendiaries, Lieutenant,” said Aston. “They got those into the air quickly enough.”

  Recker wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation and he slowed the deployment vehicle. He didn’t think it likely the Daklan had a spaceship on the far side of the cylinder, though he wasn’t ready to dismiss the possibility entirely.

  “There’s nobody firing at us yet,” he said. “Let’s take a close look at the cylinder and see what information we can gather.”

  The deployment vehicle sped across the undamaged area of the planet on which the cylinder lay and Recker saw nothing to distinguish this ground from the vast plain where they’d first entered the atmosphere.

  At thirty klicks from the cylinder, he slowed the spaceship to little more than a crawl and reduced altitude to a thousand metres.

  Ten klicks from the cylinder, he slowed again. From such a close range, the sensors left no detail unrevealed. Recker knew the object was a massive construction from his encounter on Etrol but seeing it here from the vulnerable position of the deployment craft drove home what an awe-inspiring demonstration of technology it was.

  “Nobody does alien quite like aliens,” said Aston.

  Recker didn’t say anything. Now that he didn’t have to think about turbulence or hull temperatures, he could give the whole of his attention to this discovery on Oldis. The cylinder was incredible, yet the damage it had suffered made it seem even more so and added a feeling of threat that went beyond the possible appearance of a Daklan battleship.

  Recker’s eyes jumped from place to place, counting the visible impacts the object had suffered. Some of the detonations must have hit weak points and they’d torn open irregular holes, one of which was in excess of four hundred metres across. In other places, the breaches were smaller and not all the missiles had penetrated the armour.

  “The outer plating on this thing is more than two hundred metres thick,” said Burner. “And whatever type of missiles it got hit with, they ripped it wide open.”

  The lowest fifteen hundred metres were still anchored into the ground, though they were no longer perfectly vertical and Recker could see that the lowest section of the cylinder was completely solid and made from a material so dark it was nearly black. Above that, the place where it was sheared had been subjected to a combination of intense missile fire as well as a huge lateral impact.

  “There,” he said, pointing at a place midway along the fallen section. “Looks like an indentation and we can only see part of it from this side.”

&
nbsp; “An indentation,” Aston repeated. “Something crashed into this cylinder. A spaceship.”

  The crew studied the fallen object for what felt like a long time. Lieutenant Burner did what he could to gather information but declared the sensors on the deployment craft were too primitive to analyse the composition of the cylinder.

  “I can’t even tell you if it’s generating power, sir,” he said. “And there’s no chance of finding out if it’s still broadcasting to anywhere else on the assumed network of other cylinders.”

  Having flown the deployment craft two full lengths of the cylinder, Recker brought it to within a hundred metres and drew it to a halt outside one of the openings about halfway along.

  “What can we see inside?” he asked.

  “I didn’t have a good angle from ten thousand meters, sir. The parts I could see just looked part-hollow – thick armour, some supports, and an open space.”

  “Show me.”

  Burner aimed the sensor array into the nearby opening and enhanced the feed. Like he said, it was mostly hollow, though Recker could see what he thought were thick support beams, along with an even thicker central column. Other than a few additional, indistinct shapes, much of the cylinder on the other side of this breach was empty.

  “Let’s check out a few of these other openings,” said Recker.

  “Shouldn’t we have a look on the opposite side as well?” asked Burner.

  “I thought you were convinced the Daklan landed a battleship over there, Lieutenant.”

  “On balance, they probably didn’t, sir.”

  Recker flew the vessel sideways, so that the nose remained pointing at the cylinder. “Let’s see what’s through this next opening first. It’s a big one.”

  “You are not going to believe this,” said Burner. In a startlingly unusual display of anger, he punched his console and then did it again.

  “Lieutenant!” shouted Recker angrily. “What is it?”

  Burner was already talking – babbling, almost. “Ternium wave, sir. Five hundred klicks up. Annihilator.”