Chains of Duty (Survival Wars Book 3)

by Anthony James

  At that moment, the tank’s engine died. The howl of stressed metal faded at once and the tank dropped to the ground, leaving Duggan breathing heavily in his seat. He unclipped his safety belt and prepared to leave in haste. There was only a single screen lit, still showing its countdown. Thirteen seconds. It must have got stuck. Not my unlucky number – not this time anyway.

  “I’m getting out of here,” he said to Chainer.

  The inner blast door protecting the cockpit shuddered painfully open and he dashed along the short tunnel to the holding area. It was a mess of sharp-edged holes and there was a wide slash along one wall. Anyone in here would have died a dozen times over. The exit door was gone, ripped away at some point in the last few minutes. Duggan jumped down the steps and into the wan light of day, never so happy to be alive as he was then.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  DUGGAN DROPPED to his haunches and looked at the wrecked tank. There were too many scars for him to count, but it looked like it had taken at least fifty rounds. He shook his head in disbelief, having seen smaller tanks get knocked out by a single, well-directed gauss projectile.

  “Lieutenant Chainer, please destroy the second coil gun and confirm when the path is clear for me to bring the rest of the troops up.”

  “Commander McGlashan confirms the target will be destroyed in the next few seconds, sir.” There were the sounds of background confusion. “The Oblivion is breaking away from us.”

  “Have they communicated?”

  “Negative. Lieutenant Massey is trying to reach them.”

  “Don’t let them get beyond Lambda range!” shouted Duggan. “Stay close and find out what the hell they’re doing. Get the men out of the shuttles and back to their quarters – it’ll be safer there.”

  “Will do, sir. The Ghasts are building up speed – they might be establishing an orbit.”

  Duggan exhaled. It wouldn’t be unusual for a damaged spacecraft to go into a stable orbit while repairs were ongoing. He wanted to trust Nil-Far, but there was no way he was going to drop his guard. “The order stands. Shadow them and find out what they’re doing. They might not have any reason to remain over the pyramid now we’ve destroyed it.”

  “It’s not completely destroyed, sir. It’s far too big for three Lambdas to do that. The energy shield is down and the oxygen levels are stable. I’d say it’s disabled and nothing more. Do you want us to complete the job?”

  “Not just yet – I’d like to go and take a closer look. We could learn something about why the Ghasts were so keen for it to be left intact. If they’re moving away, I assume they’ve decided it’s no longer important to watch what we’re doing.”

  A distant roar caught Duggan’s attention. He jerked around in time to see the fading blast from a Lambda strike atop an escarpment, a kilometre or more away.

  “There goes the gun,” he said.

  “We took out five of the eight, sir. The others shouldn’t trouble you.”

  “Thank you. When will we lose comms?”

  “Soon. I don’t have enough data on their planned course to let you know exactly when the planet is going to get in the way.”

  “Get me Commander McGlashan, please.”

  Chainer transferred him over. When McGlashan spoke, she sounded calm and collected, to Duggan’s relief. “Sir?”

  “You might be in charge for a while. For the sake of certainty – if you need to fire upon the Dretisear, you’ll do so with my full support. Act according to the circumstances, rather than worrying about what might come from them. We can deal with the consequences later.”

  “Will do, sir. Thanks.”

  Her words had developed a faint echo and a hum, which were the usual symptoms of a connection about to fail. He’d expected a little longer to confer with his crew. It wasn’t to be - his earpiece went dead, leaving him and his squad on the surface of Trasgor, without immediate backup.

  “Lieutenant Ortiz, you can bring the squad forward. Everything’s clear, so pick your feet up.”

  Ortiz didn’t answer for a few seconds. When she spoke, it was clear she was running. “We assumed it was over when the noise stopped and we saw those plasma bursts.”

  “The tank took a beating and won’t be going anywhere soon. The Terminus has gone out of comms sight so it’s just us, and we’re going to take a look at the pyramid.”

  “Have you left anything for us to shoot, sir?”

  “For the sake of everyone, you’d better hope not.”

  “There’s always next time. We’ll be with you in approximately seven minutes. Should we maintain radio silence?”

  Duggan weighed it up. “Don’t bother, Lieutenant. I’d rather we had clear comms for now.”

  “Understood.”

  Duggan looked into the distance, towards the channel they’d hidden the tank in. The ground was more undulating than he remembered and he couldn’t see the approaching infantry. The tank must have been visible all the way, since he couldn’t recall a let-up in the punishment it took. Another minute went by and he saw the heads of the lead soldiers appear. A trick of perspective made it appear as if they made no progress at all for another few minutes, until they were almost upon him.

  “How’d you get out of that?” asked Torres. “And how the hell did it get this far?”

  Duggan shrugged, before realising the gesture was hard to interpret when performed within a suit. “They say I’m lucky,” he said humbly.

  No one said anything more about it, though Duggan detected what might have been one or two shaken heads.

  “What now, sir?” asked Ortiz.

  “The energy shield is gone. We need to move towards the target object – another four klicks ahead of us along this valley. The emplacements between here and there have been destroyed.”

  “Any other threats?”

  “Nothing known. We’re going to assume that could change at any moment. I don’t know what other damage the pyramid has suffered and I don’t know what it contains – if anything. I’d like to find answers – this could be key to our future relationship with the Ghasts and it may also give valuable clues about why the Dreamers have come and what they want.”

  “We might need some hardware,” said Ortiz. “Carpenter, Reed, get on there and see what you can dig out.”

  “Is it safe?” asked Reed doubtfully. It wasn’t the best response.

  “It’ll be a lot safer than me shooting you in the leg, soldier. Now move!”

  Ortiz had the knack of making threats in such a way that the other soldiers took her seriously, yet without hating her for making them in the first place. Reed hurried towards the open side door of the tank, with Carpenter following. The pair of them emerged a few minutes later, dragging a number of objects.

  “A slug went through the weapons cabinet and took out most of the contents,” said Reed. “Do we need any of this stuff?”

  Duggan and Ortiz had a look at what they’d found. There was a six-feet metal tube with a fist-sized opening at one end. It had two small metal cubes attached to it, positioned near the middle.

  “Carpenter, you take the plasma launcher. Check it’s working and make sure it’s charged. We’ll leave it behind if it’s empty.”

  Yes, sir,” said Carpenter. He stooped over the tube and pressed a switch on one of the cubes. “Six rounds, sir. Fully loaded.”

  Next to it was a stubby cannon with a three centimetre bore. The barrel was about two feet long and joined by a rigid tube to a large cloth-encased metal pack. The pack was designed to be carried on a soldier’s back using two straps.

  “Torres, you’re a strong lad, pick up the repeater.”

  Torres did indeed look like he could press his own bodyweight and he muscled his way through the others. He struggled into the straps and positioned the barrel at his side, where it pointed straight ahead. “And they call this a light repeater?” he said.

  “Compared to what the Ghasts have, that is definitely a light repeater,” said Montgomery.

 
; “Theirs have a lower range and less penetration,” said Alvarez. “They need to keep their guns big to keep up with ours.”

  The summation was partially true. The Ghasts’ hand-held weaponry was inferior to what the Space Corps handed out to its soldiers. However, the difference was slight and the average Ghast could carry much more weight than a human. Put them in a mech suit and they could carry a whole lot more again.

  “We’re not here to talk about the Ghasts,” said Duggan. “We’ve got what we need. Leave the comms beacon here,” he said, indicating the final item they’d recovered from the shell of the tank. “The suits’ comms should be good enough.”

  He turned until he was facing in the direction of the pyramid. There were two ways to approach – they could head along the floor of the valley, which curved towards their destination. Alternatively, they could climb the slope and cut over the top of the hill in a straight line. Duggan surveyed the land, trying to decide which way he liked the most. The sides of the valley were only a few hundred metres high at this end. They looked rough, but without presenting a major risk of falling. The valley floor, on the other hand, was easy-going terrain, albeit littered with rocks. If there were known hazards, the high ground was the most sensible place to be. The last report from the Terminus suggested there was nothing to worry about within the former perimeter of the energy shield, except the remaining three coil guns.

  “We’re going up,” said Duggan. “Better safe than dead.”

  It wasn’t the preferred route amongst the soldiers. They knew better than to complain and they got their heads down and followed Duggan as he set off in what was a straight line towards the pyramid. The valley wall turned out to be steeper than it appeared, and with a coating of grit that made their footing uncertain. Torres and Carpenter had heavier loads than the others and they fell gradually towards the back of the pack, until Duggan had to slow the pace. Ortiz shouted at them once or twice, but she knew what they were carrying and there was little venom in her words.

  At the top, there was a good view of the valley and not much else. On the opposite side, the terrain was uneven, as if it had been moulded purposely to be as irregular as possible. This side was mercifully a lot flatter and with a gentle upwards slope. There was a high cliff a few kilometres away, which they didn’t need to go near in order to reach their goal.

  Duggan waved the squad forward and they made a good pace. He kept a careful eye on the ground before them – it looked undisturbed. Minefields had once been commonplace, but they were difficult to keep hidden from a warship’s sensors. Anything on the ground was vulnerable to a strike from the air, which was why ground offensives were much less significant than they had once been. There were fewer, better trained soldiers, with the flexibility to use a variety of equipment and adapt to whatever surprises the war might throw at them.

  The slope continued for more than two kilometres. They didn’t venture too close to the valley’s edge, since its wide curve would have added time to the run. At the highest point of the slope, the tip of the pyramid became visible, its straight lines and regularity intruding upon the randomness of nature. Soon after, the arc of the valley cut across to intersect their journey and they stopped for a moment on the edge. They were high above the valley floor and shadows from the late-afternoon sun stretched more than halfway over, lengthening rapidly as the day drew to a close. The pyramid was in clear sight and the squad kept low while they surveyed the area. This close, the Dreamer artefact was massive. Duggan remembered it to be equally proportioned, yet it somehow appeared squat and brooding. Its surface was a smooth, unreflective, near-black at fifteen hundred metres to a side. There were patches of obvious damage – with a huge crater midway up the side facing them, surrounded by a lip of melted alloy which had re-hardened into an ugly shape.

  “Lots of positrons,” said Duggan, cycling through the suit helmet’s array of scanning options.

  “We should be safe in our suits, sir,” said Ortiz.

  “Best we don’t hang around anyway. I want to take a look and then we can hunker down somewhere to wait for a pickup.”

  “I make it just less than a thousand metres away,” she said. “No sign of movement, no sign of life.”

  “And no sign of a way in. Not on this side.”

  Duggan felt deflated, without knowing exactly why. He didn’t know if he’d expected that simply laying eyes on the pyramid would give him the answers he wanted. He watched it for a few minutes longer, hoping for something to change, a doorway to open – anything that might give away details about its nature. In the end, there was nothing for it. He got to his feet and set off warily towards the valley floor.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE WAY down was harder to negotiate than the way up. The squad slipped and slithered, sending a cascade of loose stones and gravel before them. No matter how much care he took, Duggan felt as if he were at a constant risk of tumbling headlong towards the bottom. They made it intact, though Alvarez covered the last fifty metres on his backside. The man got up and patted himself down ruefully. The polymer suits were tough and proof against most abrasion, so the only thing damaged was his pride. The others were too focused on their destination, so the insults sent his way were muted.

  Duggan paused to look up at the pyramid’s apex. He was used to seeing created objects of unimaginable size and this had no greater volume than a number of the Space Corps’ larger ships. Regardless, there was something peculiar about being confronted with evidence that the Confederation’s greatest achievements were not unique in the universe. First came the Ghasts, and now this new alien species.

  With a start, he realised the Terminus had been out of contact for much longer than a single orbit of the planet – even a slow one. He tried to connect and got nothing. He swore under his breath and pushed the uncertainty from his mind.

  “Come on, let’s see what we can learn about this alien technology,” he said.

  The base of the pyramid wasn’t far and Duggan sprinted across the intervening space, using the heat and movement sensors on his helmet to detect anything he might otherwise miss. The squad followed him, ungainly in their protective suits. When he reached the pyramid, Duggan paused and then pressed the palm of his hand onto the surface. It was neither warm, nor cold, with a hint of vibration deep inside. The glove of his suit numbed his sense of touch, though not enough to block the feeling entirely.

  “We’re going around,” he said on the open channel. “Watch out and shoot anything that moves.”

  “Those are the kinds of orders I like,” said Ortiz.

  Duggan led the way, advancing cautiously. As he walked, he noticed the fractures running through the stone at the base of the pyramid. Even with a gentle landing, the artefact was heavy enough to overstress the rock. It took a few minutes to reach the corner. He looked carefully around and saw the next side was in shadow. His helmet sensor kicked in automatically, gathering and enhancing the available light. The result was near-perfect, though a trained eye could tell the difference. In the reduced light, the walls of the valley appeared almost sheer, looming into the sky. There was something eerie about the entire scene – a peculiar contrast between raw nature and alien technology. Duggan walked along this darkened edge, his feet crunching through the gravel. Above, the sky was a blanket of stars, the blackness in contrast with the waning light cast upon the surface of Trasgor by its sun.

  “Sir, you’ve just walked past something,” said Ortiz. She was feeling the strangeness too, and her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper.

  Duggan stopped and looked around, trying to see what he’d missed. Ortiz helped him out by stepping close to the pyramid and running a finger along a near-invisible seam in the surface.

  “A door?” asked Duggan. He continued a few more paces, searching for another seam. He found one and followed it with his eyes. The seam went up at a diagonal for a few metres, and then cut horizontally across to join the other one. It was difficult to judge from so close, but
it appeared as if the vertical seams ran exactly parallel to the edges of the pyramid itself.

  “Bang in the middle,” said Ortiz. “Aliens like symmetry, huh?”

  “Anyone got a crowbar?” asked Quinn.

  “I thought you always carried one in case you got the chance to do a bit of breaking and entering,” said Reed.

  “Piss off,” replied Quinn mildly.

  “Be quiet,” warned Ortiz. She didn’t need to raise her voice and the others fell silent.

  Duggan banged his fist against what he assumed was a door. It was about four metres wide and there was no give in it whatsoever – it could have been a hundred metres thick for all he knew. “We’ll need more than a crowbar to get this shifted,” he said.

  “We’ve got grenades and explosives,” said Ortiz.

  “Anything that looks like an access panel?” asked Corporal Hammond.

  Five of the squad monitored the area, while the remainder looked for a way to open the door. Garvin was the nearest thing to an explosives expert they had, and she stared at the smooth surface, trying to figure out if they had sufficient kit to get it open. Duggan stepped away, hoping to find some inspiration. There was another Lambda crater on this side of the pyramid – about five hundred metres up. The slope was far too slippery to climb and they didn’t have any additional gear with them to help. He found it hard to focus on the solution, since he was distracted by the inevitable conclusion that followed his certainty about this being a door. A door was there to let people in and out. If the pyramid had been nothing more than a power source for whatever created the oxygen, there would have been no need for a way inside.