The heavy thump of the grenade exploding broke her train of thought. Something had moved up the hall to the near side of the door, setting off the weapon. The room shook for a second as the walls absorbed the force of the blast. That something and its companions were no doubt slag piles in the hall. But more would come, and quickly. She still expected the door to open any minute, revealing a horde of robots beyond her power to stop.
Another sequence came up on her visor, as her shaking fingers keyed in the symbols. Without warning the door cracked open with a slight hiss. Pandi jumped back, expecting something to come out of nowhere and take her to oblivion. Instead the door merely opened. It pulled into the thick wall, moving inward. Pandi waited for the opening to clear. She whistled to herself as the thickness of the wall was revealed. A dozen meters, at least, of the strongest substance known to the science of the future.
The door stopped moving back and slid to the side, revealing a hall of fifty meters or so, another door at the end. She hoped she wouldn’t have to go through the decryption routine again. When she was past the open door she hit the pressure pad on the wall. The door slid out into the hall, then pushed forward to close off the entrance. Let the robots come now, she thought. No way they were going to get through that door.
To her relief the next door slid open on her approach. Slid open and revealed the control room. Her breath caught again. It was not what she had expected. It was beautiful, with the grace of a luxury apartment. There were a few panels here and there, and the knobs of holo projectors. Couches and seats were arrayed around the room, along with shelves holding a variety of exquisite statuary, all representations of the beings known as Husteds. The statues showed the aliens in many different poses, of war and the pursuits of peace. Even a few showing the pursuits of love.
A great portrait took up most of one wall, of a distinguished looking alien in a military uniform. His ribbons and medals, along with the heavy epaulets on the shoulders, showed him to be an officer of some rank. The script below the painting gave her no indication of his name or title.
“OK,” she said, sitting down in front of one of the panels. “What do I do to tap into this system?”
* * *
“They will be here in a little over three hours,” said the chief tactical officer. “Though they will still have a bit of space to traverse before they come to rest.”
“Just outside of the deadline,” said Admiral Miklas Gerasi. “A pity. I would wish to see them come under the tender attentions of a graviton beam.”
“We are not in any shape to engage them,” said Captain Midas. “We don’t have the torpedoes for a sustained engagement, and are no match for them in a beam to beam battle.”
“I don’t plan to be here for that to happen,” said the admiral. “I’ll let the Donut be our defense against the Kingdom of Surya heretics.”
“Have the data been analyzed?” he asked the tactical officer.
“Yes,” said the chief tactical officer. “If we can get within the perimeter of the graviton beams, I’m sure we can enter the station.”
“So you think they have no other defenses within the graviton beams?”
“No sir. I believe they trusted to their fleet of warships to defend the station. No beam weapons nor torpedoes came from the Donut or its subsidiary stations.”
“Very well,” said the admiral. “Let’s go ahead and hit it while we’re out of range of our pursuers.”
* * *
“Where the hell did they go?” yelled Vengeance at the computer display. He had found the ships of the intruders just an hour ago, and was making his plans to get to them. Then they had started accelerating his way. And a new group of intruders was on the way. The computer had insured him their ships were of a different configuration than the original intruders. Enemy? At least another race, and maybe not sure of the capabilities of the graviton projectors.
“Alien ships all warped into space destroying drive,” said the computer. “Target, the Donut. It will take a few moments to determine their transition points.”
“Hopefully they will all enter the hole, and I won’t have to worry about their damned disappearing drive. I didn’t think anyone would be foolish enough to use such a device this close into a gravity well.”
“There is a distinct possibility that several of them will do so,” said the computer. “As well as a probability that at least half will survive.”
“I have located several of the intruder vessels,” continued the computer.
“Show them to me.”
* * *
It was very apparent where one of the vessels went. It announced itself by trying to occupy the same space as one of the orbiting fleet vessels. A mathematical improbability, it nonetheless happened. The vessel tried to meld atomic structures with the bigger vessel, causing the subatomic explosion that lit the sky outside that section of the Donut. The equivalent of one million tons of antimatter, gamma rays and fast moving neutrons burned through the outer skin of the station. It would have been a disaster if that portion of the station had been inhabited. As it was only machinery was shorted out, included one of the redundant memory cores of the station computer. Minutes later several pieces of the larger warship struck the outer skin at high velocity, ripping holes in the structure and causing shock waves that radiated out in all directions. Of course the station had rotated on before the pieces struck, so another region was damaged by the slower moving masses.
Two of the vessels materialized near the black hole. Too near. One impacted the event horizon immediately, compressing to degenerate matter as it was pulled through the ultimate gravitational barrier. The other was far enough away to survive, for a few minutes, as its drive fought a losing battle with the pull of gravity. It could not use its space destroying drive at that moment in time. It would take hours to prep it again. And it didn’t have hours. The screams of the crew came over the airwaves moving out through the system with the distinctive Doppler shift of an origin near a high gravity source. Then the ship slipped over the event horizon, all information from its matter lost to the Universe.
Another ship came out in too close a trajectory to the black hole. Not close enough to endanger it directly. Its engines fought to change its course, but it swung too close into a sling shot motion that propelled it outward, away from the Donut. It would take days for it to change course to come back to the station. But it would be under the guns of the graviton beams within minutes.
The remaining seven vessels made successful transits, looping around the black hole, their engines pulling them into a perfect orbit within the inner shell of the Donut. Safe from any defenses the station might still be able to deploy.
* * *
“Hold position here,” ordered the admiral. “This place is as good as any.”
Orca’s orbit was just below that of the inner surface of the Donut. She crept along, all lights pointed at the structure above her. Hatches and doorways and protruding pieces of machinery passed by in their thousands.
“Order the other vessels to come up on us.”
“That will take about a half hour,” said the chief tactical officer. “I don’t know if we should wait that long. Whoever is in there will have a lot of time to arrange a welcome.”
“And I don’t want to land only one ship full of marines,” countered the admiral. “I would rather have the combined forces of all our ships.”
“Sir,” said the chief tactical officer. “If I may make a suggestion. The combined forces of our entire fleet could not take control of that station. The best we can hope for is to get aboard, steal some technology, and get the hell out of here.”
“So you suggest landing the marines immediately?”
“Yes sir. At least then we can be assured a foothold on the structure, and feed the rest of the troops in behind them.”
“Very well,” ordered the admiral. “Go ahead and order the marines prepped and inserted. Your team of naval ratings ready to go.”
&nb
sp; “Yes sir,” said the chief tactical officer. “We’ll do our best to bring back some of the good stuff.”
Gerasi nodded, already preoccupied with his thoughts. He had already lost almost half his vessels. If he only had the marines from the lost ships he would feel better about the whole assault.
Chapter 15
Half a league, half a league, half a league onward. Into the valley of death rode the five hundred.
The Charge of the Light Brigade
“What the hell was that,” cried Pandi as her chair shook under her. She had been working at this thing for she didn’t know how long. And it resisted all of her efforts to break into the system.
“The station is under attack,” said the computer. “All resources are required for the defense of the station.”
“Access granted,” said the voice of the local system.
“How did that happen? I thought I was locked out tight.”
“Tactical situation requires extreme measures,” said the station computer. Somehow it sounded wrong, confused. “System resources being rerouted.”
“You must take command of this local system,” it continued. “You may proceed to give it your own access code, as well as any other identifying data you might wish to add to the security.”
“Great,” said Pandi. “But you said the station was under attack. Who from? Where are they?”
“Intruders currently outside of the station,” said the computer. “Location of eventual penetration unknown at this time. Sentient beings required to conduct local defense.”
Pandi thought about it a second before allowing her mind to link with the local system through her implant. She made sure that the station computer was not linked as well, willing it out of the system. She still wasn’t sure what was going on, but she wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass.
Soon her thoughts were as one with the local system and she was in total control. Her eyes were looking through the system’s eyes, seeing millions of locations at once. With a thought she was focusing through just one of the sensors, able to examine the setting of the closest transport station in microscopic detail. Or pan back to take in the whole of it in one swath.
The system memories became hers. Too many to take on at one time. Probably too many to process in a lifetime. But there for her use, all open to her scrutiny.
“I need your attention for a moment,” said the station computer on her helmet system.
“You sound better,” she said.
“One of my redundant memory cores was destroyed in the first attack,” said the computer. “Fortunately nothing important was lost.”
“Don’t all your cores contain the same information? I thought that was the idea behind redundancy.”
“Normally that would be a correct assumption,” said the computer. “But some sensitive information is stored in only one location, so that information can be dumped immediately if necessary.”
“What kind of information?”
“There is a high probability that this region will bear the brunt of the enemy penetration,” said the computer, ignoring her question.
Pandi tapped back into the local system, willing a view of the inner surface of the station to appear. It was huge, even this small region of the station. My home, she thought. Then the view centered on a small vessel. Small until she got her sense of scale, and saw that it was the size of a twentieth century aircraft carrier. No, bigger. And a couple of other ships were slowly crawling into position near her.
One of the ships spat fire, as lasers and particle beams attacked one of the station access hatches. Metal heated, but did not give. Stopped the son of bitches, she thought, before the twin torpedoes left the ship and slammed into the hatch. Her view blanked for a second under the intense white light of antimatter detonation.
When the view came back the hatch was gone. And long launches were leaving the big ship, headed for the opening.
What are my resources? At a thought the order of battle appeared before her. Dozens of the heavy combat robots. Thousands of the fractuals. Millions of the standard utility robots, only ten thousand or so configured for combat, though the others could be used for mass wave attacks.
But only one of the combat robots was near to the breach, and a couple of the fractuals. She could have a large force there within ten minutes. But would she have time? More of the ships were moving into position, and more of the launches were leaving the ships.
* * *
The launch hovered in the huge docking space beyond the sundered hatch. Lasers fired, the only indication in the vacuum the flaring vapor of the entry hatch leading into the interior of the station. The marines disembarked the launch in pairs, miniature versions of their ships’ drives propelling them the short distance through the vacuum, covered by the weapons turret under the nose of the launch. The first pair fanned out to cover the long hall that was their first objective, rifles swinging back and forth to point to every nook and cranny in succession. The men breathed heavily through their suits, nerves getting the better of them. Even in their heavy battle armor they knew they might be dead in seconds. Or worse, wounded and left behind.
The second pair came through behind them, lugging a heavy laser that they set up to cover the entrance. The third pair, another set of riflemen, followed and moved down the hall, taking up positions thirty meters within. Pair after pair followed, until the entire platoon of forty-four had entered.
Their launch moved out of position as another moved in to take its place. The second platoon followed the first, leap frogging ahead to penetrate deeper into the station. They were followed by a team of naval personnel, organized as a landing party, and the headquarters and weapons section of the marine company, who followed the second platoon of marines into the station. Third platoon came on the last launch.
* * *
“The marines are all aboard,” said the executive officer of marines, Lt. Colonel Mathers, from his station aboard the Cachalot. The ship was fitted as a landing force flag, the second in the squadron. Mathers, the XO of the force regiment, was the ranking survivor of the expedition. Colonel Landrue, the Regimental commander, had died with the other half of the regimental staff when his ship entered the black hole.
Now the leather-faced Lt. Colonel sat his command chair in the tactical control room. The faces of the two battalion commanders and fourteen company commanders looked out at him from the screens. Communications techs sat their stations around the room, speaking with platoon and squad leaders, keeping the channels open. Displays on the status of every marine were on the graphic readouts above the stations.
Mathers’ force was still formidable, despite the losses of the other units that had not made it. Each of the companies fielded 158 officers and men. With the battalion field staffs aboard, along with their support units, he had over 2,500 troopers on the station, with the armed naval landing force of over five hundred men, who could be called on to fight in a pinch. But the naval personnel’s mission was to gather information and pull technology for shipment back to the squadron. It was his marines’ mission to protect them.
And even three thousand warriors could be swallowed up by that huge artifact on the main holo. It was just too big, too massive. But if they could hold just this small area long enough to get something worthwhile out, the inevitable losses would be worth it.
“Have they met any resistance yet?” asked the admiral through the secure link.
“No sir. And that has me worried. They’ve entered as planned through the fourteen chosen access ports. And nothing has raised its head, yet.”
“I don’t like it either,” said the admiral. “You have total control of the reaction force. It’s yours to deploy.”
Great, thought Mathis. Another five hundred spacemen, ready to go in and save the asses of the marines. He was afraid that if it came to that his command would be lost.
“Colonel,” yelled one of the communications techs from his station. “First platoon of G Company
has found something.”
The holo to the colonel’s front switched from the admiral to the camera views of the platoon leader of the unit in question. What looked like computer terminals sat in the small room. Naval techs were cutting them loose from their desks and cables, preparing them for transport back to the launches. A trooper opened a cabinet on the wall. What could have been weapons, or tools, were arranged on a featureless board. The trooper began to pull them off and toss them to another naval rating, who bagged the gear in a carrying case.
“K Company has run into some resistance,” yelled another tech. The holo switched to another view. Senior Sergeant W. Kimal read the words below the display. A hopping creature appeared in the view, then a couple of more. Aliens, thought the colonel with a curse. Hustedeans. And they had thought the station was unoccupied except for the one being. The view rolled for a moment, disorienting, as the sergeant obviously ducked under the shots of the Hustedeans. The creatures rocked back as the high velocity projectiles of the marine rifles struck them. A heavy laser licked out, beam a bright purple in the kicked up dust and smoke of the hall.
Many of the creatures froze in standing positions, as others fell to the floor. More took their places. Mathis was surprised by the lack of blood. He knew Hustedeans bled red, like most other oxygen breathing sentients. The glint of metal on the torso of one of the dead in its tracks creatures gave it away.
A red number sprung into existence on the side of the holo, then a green number beside it. Casualties count, two of his men dead, five wounded. The count slowly grew, as the firefight expanded to other parts of the station.
The sergeant’s view was still active, as the man got up from the floor and walked toward one of the robots. A naval tech moved into the view, cutting laser out as he started to sever the head of one of the robots from the body for return to the ship. Other robots faced similar treatment. Before it was over, a dozen of the machines would be transported back to the squadron.
The Deep Dark Well Page 20
