Frontier’s End
By Jim C. Wilson
©2017 Jim C. Wilson
Also by the Author:
Dreaming of Atmosphere
Assault on Ambrose Station
For Jess.
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“You never know what you can do till you try”
1.
I had never known death as I knew it that day. The day my perception of reality was irrevocably changed.
We were young, full of courage and stupidity in equal measures. We thought we were heroes, riding that assault shuttle down to Ambrose Station. A dozen Primacy Star Marines – the finest fighting force in the Votus-Eridani Network – charged on combat stims and pumped for war. We were certain in our superiority, our fighting prowess, our advanced technology, and our sheer numbers. We knew that with our brothers at our sides, the alien Ghantri were no match for us.
We were fools.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
“You looking at me like that because you want to kiss me, Corporal?” growled Sergeant Walter “Crazy Eight” Germaine the Eighth.
“No, sarge,” I grinned, “Just admiring how mean you look in your shiny new armour. How long were you polishing it last night?”
“Longer than I polished your mum, last time I was in port.”
The rest of the squad burst out into laughter. During a drop, tension was always high. The sarge and I had this old routine – we would take turns insulting one another in front of the troops. Took their minds off the fact they were about to face their possible deaths.
“At your age, sarge, I’m impressed. I’ve heard my mum is something of a wildcat on the frontier. You sure you’re man enough for a corsair woman?”
He growled at me. “You frontiersmen always think you’re something special. Hides the fact that you’re the equivalent of old Earth goat herders.”
“Space goats, Walt. They’re called space goats now.”
The green light in the shuttle’s hold switched to an angry red and the Sergeant held a finger up to his helmet. It was a strange mannerism he just couldn’t kick – he did it whenever his comms barked out orders.
“Two minutes!” he called, all business once more. Our comedy routine was over.
I ran down the aisle, double-checking everyone’s drop brace. A rectangular brace caged each marine, with ample room to grip and hang onto. Once I was sure everyone was secure, I gave the thumbs up to Walt. I then ran down to my own spot on the barge, clipping the jetpack on my suit into the brace. I pulled the bar down over my head and gripped it tightly.
“Atmo venting! All suits on internal life support!” called Crazy Eight.
I checked a small indicator on my overlay, registering the oxygen mix in my suit.
“Comms check!” he called as the atmosphere in the compartment started to disappear.
One by one, everyone in the squad called out their names on the squad communications channel.
“Standby for deployment in five seconds! Four! Three! Two…”
The floor beneath out feet slid out of sight, exposing the battlefield below. The station outer surface rushed up to greet us as bright flashes of hardlight zipped across space. The occasional explosion lit up the terrain as we dropped the final half kilometre to drop range.
“Drop!”
The inertia of the shuttle propelled us out of the hull like bombs, thrusting us directly towards the station as it braked hard. I focused entirely on my own manoeuvres – the rest of the squad would fend for themselves for the next part. I trusted their training. We had been trained by the galaxy’s best, after all. When the surface was less than fifty metres from me, I ignited my jetpack on full burn for two seconds, reducing it to twenty-five percent for half a second, then five percent for landing. My boots lightly touched the metal surface and my magnetics engaged. All eleven other members of the squad touched down nearby.
“Eleven o’clock!” warned one of the marines, opening up immediately with their energy rifle. I turned to see a wave of Ghantri assaulting our position.
“Casper! Fenris! Garlos! With me!” I called, pointing to a section of debris we could use as cover.
We dashed over to the barrier and braced our rifles on the edge. My fireteam unleashed a torrent of hardlight towards the oncoming enemy, cutting them down one by one.
I saw the sarge grab two others and drag them towards cover while the others scattered. Enemy fire smashed into my shoulder guard, knocking my aim high. I noted with concern that my shield had done nothing to deflect the round.
“Ballistic ammo!” called Crazy Eight, grinning like a madman, “I take it back, Donny! These guys are the goat herders!”
He unslung a grenade and twisted the top off before tossing it towards the enemy line. Free of the artificial gravity, the explosive sailed right over their heads and I was about to laugh at his efforts when it exploded, damaging an antenna array. The array toppled down, pulled in by the station’s gravity field, and crashed into the ranks of the Ghantri.
The sarge didn’t miss a beat.
“Let’s go, Star Marines!” he cried as he leapt over the barricade. We followed, yelling out in defiance of the alien betrayers. The light of a stray beam weapon sweeping through space above us illuminated our charge. At the beginning, it was glorious.
Death came to us all, that day. Even me. Mine just took a lot longer to catch up to me.
2.
I looked out over the battlefield, lost in thought as I remembered the day we landed, during the Push. That was almost three and a half years ago, for me. Chronologically, it was closer to nine years ago – I've done my share of Jump Gate travel since then. You could still see the debris field in space above us if one looked hard enough. The wreckages left behind by the fleet dotted the landscape on the habitat ring.
Twelve hours had passed since Osiris Blackburn had fled through the Jump Gate with Artemis, twelve hours of fierce fighting trying to defend the last walls of the university grounds. We had been given a reprieve. The remaining raiders had withdrawn their assault to lick their wounds or sharpen their spears. They’d had enough for the day.
Too exhausted to celebrate, many of our soldiers simply slid to the ground and slept – weapons in hands and backs to the wall. It was a pyrrhic victory, the battle had taken its toll on both sides.
“Calak will be back soon,” said Kekkin, leaning over the parapet.
“They’re probably trying to find their Sectis for more of their drugs.”
“We should have burned the galab.”
“Wouldn’t matter,” I said, “I doubt many of them were as addicted as those berserkers. I haven’t seen any for hours. Long enough for them to have died or at least gone into withdrawal.”
“They still have enough men,” said Renthal, as a local medic sewed stitches into a cut on his cheek, “and we don’t have enough cells to keep firing.”
“I have Rego working with Tac to build charging banks with the reactors," I said.
“From our M4’s?”
I nodded. I had disconnected mine from my armour many hours ago – since my exo-rig had stopped working. I had ordered the others to surrender theirs shortly after the fighting stopped, but Renthal was right. Our numbers had fallen significantly, while we had not taken enough of the enemy to make them count. They outnumbered us by over twenty to one, but we had the advantage of modern weapons. For every ten of them, nine wielded spears, blades or clubs. Crude weapons forged in makeshift factories. They were primitive, yet fierce.
They had time, however, for every shot fired was one more round depleted from our cells. When they ran out, we would be overrun. T
he trick was to make sure that we could repel the invaders, without depleting our reserves.
Since Osiris had left, their ‘General’, the people of Ambrose University had looked up to us Protectorate soldiers for leadership. I suspected our recent ally Alexander Cohen had a hand in this, as he was ever the vocal advocate for us. I had our forces split up to lead the defence of various focal points across the wall, with the remainder of our Special Forces equipment bolstering our efforts. I knew it would not be enough. We would not last another day of fighting, and I knew that our enemy could sense it.
“What is naga-zak thinking?” asked Kekkin.
I turned to look down at the wretched refugees below, huddled by their campfires. “We need to get these people to safety. It’s what we came here to do. What I came here to do.”
Renthal shooed away the medic and dabbed at his face. “Easier said than done. Besides, even if we could get them past these walls, where would they go?”
“Human is right,” said Kekkin, “Not too many safe places left on this station.”
“Then we’re just going to have to get them to someplace else.”
I glanced over my shoulder, covering my eyes as the sun’s last rays slid behind the curve of the habitat ring. The orange light of Gossamer still shone on a cylindrical structure that rose many kilometres into the air to join with a large spherical body suspended in the centre of the station’s ring.
"What makes you think that's safe?” said Renthal, following my gaze towards the space elevator, “The Ghantri supposedly control the docking sphere.”
Kekkin could see my plan starting to form, though. He nodded, peering at the distant corridor into space. “No…this is doable. We take it back from the kak.”
“Why? How is that safe?”
Kekkin grinned. “Human forgets purpose of docking sphere.”
Renthal gave us a quizzical look. “For docking ships.”
I shared the grin with Kekkin, as Renthal suddenly realised what we were thinking.
“Oh! You don’t think there are still ships inside, do you?”
“Why wouldn’t there be?” I asked.
“Well…the Ghantri…hmm. I suppose there could be Ghantri ships there.”
“Which are based on Protectorate ship designs…”
“How much, though?”
Kekkin spoke up. “Human did not see the lair of the Sectis? Those consoles were module bridge stations, copied from Eridani standard designs.”
“Tyrillian, if I'm not mistaken," I said.
“So?”
Kekkin shook his head in disappointment. “Naga Team can fly them.”
“And we can teach the survivors here to fly them as well,” I chipped in.
“Okay. So it’s plausible. How are we going to get several thousand refugees past that?” he said, jabbing a thumb toward the resting horde of raiders over the wall.
This time, I had nothing. I could see Kekkin looking my way, silently hoping I had a plan. I couldn’t make eye contact.
“I’m thinking,” was all I said.
I left them to rest, heading down below to the University grounds. I needed to think, and I needed to look around and get a feel for the terrain. Maybe there was some secret exit, such as the ones we had used to get into the second line of defences. I had asked Alexander about it hours before, during a brief spell in the fighting. He knew of no such route, but perhaps someone else did.
I approached various camps, asking about the occupants' knowledge of the grounds. Mostly, all I got were shy, monosyllabic answers and vague apologies. A few pointed me towards others who they thought might know something, but after a few hours, I realised I was getting nowhere.
Tired, and dejected, I decided to give up and get some sleep. I headed into the University tower, stopping briefly at the barricade set up in the lobby to greet the local soldiers there. By now, only the wounded and the infirm operated this rear guard position. Anyone fresh enough to fight unaided was needed at the wall.
After several minutes of hand-shaking and talking up their courage, I made my way towards the back of the lobby and passed by the elevator shafts. As my foot touched the first stair, I paused. With a flash of insight, I rushed over to the nearest flooded elevator shaft.
Pipes ran down into the shaft, which was filled with water up to a foot below the edge of the open elevator door. I knew that pumps fed this water to the irrigation system that allowed the University to grow crops for the people that lived here before the raiding had caused their numbers to swell.
“Where does this water come from?” I mused.
I ran back to the barricade and shouted to no one in particular, “Did anyone of you men live here before the raiders came?”
A few of the soldiers raised their hands. I pointed at the nearest.
“Where does the water that fills these shafts come from?”
“Um…er…” he stammered.
“Quick! Anyone?” I clicked my fingers impatiently.
“A fire suppression system!” blurted out an older man, “There used to be maintenance tunnels down there, but a fire main was busted years ago. The General ordered us to leave it and we’ve used it ever since.”
“What feeds the fire system?”
“Dunno, sir. Probably a cistern somewhere in the sub-structure.”
“Any idea where the tunnels lead? Any exits?”
“We never ventured into the sub-structure, the Ghantri never allowed us.”
“I bet the General did, though. With his goon squad.” The man just gave me a shrug. I had what I needed, though.
I returned to the shafts and stared into their gloomy depths. The light of a nearby lamp caused darkness to pool in the corners, lighting the shafts only faintly. My gaze drifted, a thousand miles away. A plan began to form in my mind, the many cogs meshing like pieces of a puzzle. I needed objectives. Obstacles that were in my way, that I could set people to task to remove.
I raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time. I got two flights up before I was absolutely wrecked, and remembered to boost my stamina with a quick Repair Paradigm. I had to use it again before I reached my destination.
“Tac!” I said, bursting into the workshop that Rego and Tac had set up. They were busy connecting dozens of battery cells to a bank of charging stations they had erected. A pair of runners were standing by, ready to take the latest charged cells back to the soldiers.
“Seth,” he said, “What can I do for you?”
“I have a new job for you.”
He turned his optical sensors toward the workbench he was at, inspecting his current task. Rego waved him away.
“I got this, Tac. I can monitor the amps on my suit kit.”
“Very well, Private,” said Tac, “I’m all yours, Lieutenant.”
“Come with me.”
I led him across the hall and up another ten levels, before arriving at Osiris’ quarters. Immediately following his departure, I had stormed my way down here in a fit of seething anger. I guess I had thought to toss the apartment, vent some of my rage out on his possessions. A poor substitute for the real thing, I know.
The three-room apartment was austere and sparsely furnished, so much so that it caught me unprepared. A simple cot, a single small dining table, a single wooden chair. I had seen the trappings of a decadent man in other areas of the tower, such as his operations room where we had met him, but to find such simple accommodations…well it took the steam out of much of my anger.
I tossed the apartment anyway, I just did it more methodically, is all I’m saying. Less emotion, more thinking. I found his stash of data devices tucked under his bed in an unadorned briefcase within moments.
I pointed to the case, which I had left on the table.
“We’re going to go through Blackburn’s computers, and see if we can find any records indicating he had information on the Ghantri, the Sectis in particular, but anything that pertains to his operations, past and present. Anything.”
“We are?”
“Well, you are. If I’m ever going to face Osiris in the future, I need ammunition to take him down, some insight into how he operates, how he thinks and how he makes decisions.”
“A most important task. I shall begin at once.”
“Not right away, I have something else for you to do. Once you’ve finished this, you can work on the Osiris records.”
He regarded me, his body upright with his head tilted to one side.
“You want me to collect these and catalogue them?”
“For now, but first I want you to focus on trying to crack that implant we tore from the Sectis’ head.”
“Ah, the neuro-module.”
“We need to find out communications protocols, ship-borne protocols. I want to know how their fleet monitors each other – their friend or foe interrogation system.”
“You think it would be in here?” he retrieved the implant module from a latched slot on his chassis.
“I hope it is.”
“Very well, I’ll give it my undivided attention.”
“You have until we leave.”
“We’re leaving?”
“As soon as we’re ready.”
“I should be able to link all these devices up, share their processing memory to crack this module. Some of these computers are quite sophisticated, considering their age. Mr Blackburn seems to have hoarded any computers of any significant power he could find. Two of these AI Cores are sufficient to control several factory sized facilities at any one time.”
“You’re the expert on these things. Do what you need to do.”
He went to work right away, gathering up all the tablets, AI Cores, and data wafers - anything that could be used to store data or process information. One by one, he started to pull small cables from a recess on his forearm and plug them into the devices. Eventually, he turned to me.
"This may take some time. Mr Blackburn used high-quality encryption systems on some of these tablets. I will contact you the moment I have an answer."
Frontier's End: A Seth Donovan Novel Page 1
