by Tim Marquitz
Crate shrugged. “I have no estimates regarding that, Commander, though, in theory, not long.”
Lyana laughed and turned back to her console. “This is why I love serving on the Excalibur. It’s a damn laugh a minute, right up until we die.”
“As for my idea,” Crate went on, ignoring Lyana, “we are flying an alien ship, after all.”
Lyana’s laughter continued.
“You’re saying we should just zip on through the gate as if we belong here?” Albion rubbed at his temples, also wondering how long it would be before Crate’s idea got them killed.
“Well, it’s not as simple as that,” he said, “but it’s also not all that complex.”
“Spit it out, man!” Choi shouted. He looked ready to have an aneurysm.
The engineer pointed under Randall’s console and, for the first time anyone noticed, the small device Crate had been working on was mounted there. Randall glanced under his console, then sat up and glared at the engineer.
“It’s yet to be tested but—”
“Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Lyana said, drawing everyone’s attention back to the view screen, “but I don’t think we’re going to have time to run your new toy through its paces.” Warning claxons sounded a moment before being muted.
There, alongside the land gate, the tow ship neared, a sudden waver in space revealed not one, but six of the new style Xebedon destroyers. They phased in and started forward, two veering toward the tow ship. The remainder, approached the Excalibur, despite it still being in phase space.
“We’ve been targeted,” Randall said with a shaky voice.
“Weapons locked,” Mara called out, overriding the kid as he struggled to get the words out.
Albion stared at the approaching enemy craft and clasped his armrests hard, knuckles popping. “Exit phase, Commander.”
“Are you insane?” Lyana asked, spinning to look at him.
“No more than usual,” he said. “Now do it.”
She snarled but did as ordered. Albion turned to the engineer.
“Now would be a good time to prove your worth, Lieutenant.”
Offering up a lazy salute, Crate gestured to Randall. “You’ll find a new option until your beacons,” he told him. “Use that to broadcast our identity. It should identify us as Xebedon using their current code scheme.”
“Should?” Albion, Lyana, and Mara asked at the same time.
Crate shrugged. “Can’t know for certain since I’m Sranth, not Xebedon. Who knows how those crazy bugs think.”
“Sir?” Randall asked, a trembling hand hovering over his console.
“Do it.” Albion hunkered in his seat as the four alien craft screeched their direction, weapons locked on the Excalibur with no signs of slowing.
Thirteen
Sector 082, Allied Space
“They’re still coming,” Lyana said with a growl. She glanced over her shoulder at the engineer. “You better hope I die first, Crate, because if either of us lives through this, I’m going to kill you.”
“Get in line,” Albion said, his gaze locked on the Xebedon destroyers hurtling their way, growing closer and closer with every heartbeat.
“It’s not working.” Randall hunkered behind his console as if it might protect him from what was coming. “Shields, sir?”
“Negative,” Albion answered, though he wanted more than anything to order them raised. “Keep your finger on them, though, Ensign, just in case, but keep broadcasting and nothing else.”
He knew that wasn’t going to ease Randall’s nerves, but that was the least of Albion’s concerns right then. The enemy ships were right on top of them and, within moments, it would be too late to do anything that would allow them to survive. As if to emphasize his thoughts, the ships spread their formation and angled their noses toward the Excalibur. Albion had seen this maneuver many times before, and it had always resulted in violence.
“Sir?”
“Hold, Ensign.” The words were out of his mouth before he even realized, but Albion trusted Crate. He had to believe the engineer was right and, at this point, the Xebedons surrounding them, he had no choice.
The Xebedon ships gleamed in the reflected light, so close Albion could reach through the view screen and touch them, and he knew it was over.
“I’m sorry, everyone,” he said, his head lolling back.
Then he heard the crew exhale, and he glanced back to see the destroyers peeling off and heading back toward the land gate.
Randall let out a gasping sigh. “Did that really just happen?”
“Looks that way, kid,” Lyana said, though her voice trembled despite crooked grin on her face. “Looks like you did it, Crate.”
Crate shrugged. “Don’t I always?”
Albion had to nod his agreement. Mara ran across the deck and hugged him, nearly cutting off his blood supply before he pried himself free, not that he was in much of a hurry.
“Response to our identification is fairly vague,” Crate said, “but it appears they aren’t challenging our status, though that’s probably obvious by them turning and not blowing us into pieces, I imagine.”
“What do we do now, Captain?” Randall asked.
“Follow that ship,” he said, jabbing a finger the direction of the tow craft. “If the bugs are going to lay out the welcome mat, who are we to refuse their hospitality?”
“We’d be the smart ones if we did,” Lyana clarified.
“Well, yeah, but that’s not us today.”
She sighed. “Hop on the tow ship’s ass, Choi, and let’s take a closer look at that weird land gate Randall and Crate find so damn fascinating.”
“Ma’am,” Choi replied, maneuvering the Excalibur so it lined up with the land gate and matched the speed of the other ship, which slipped into the gate as they watched. The blackness churned and swallowed the two ship, the green blip of it vanishing from the scanners.
“I sure hope this is actually a gate and not some giant trash compacter,” Lyana said with a grin.
The crew groaned.
Albion shook his head as the gate loomed. “We clearly need a morale officer on this ship.”
Crate volunteered by raising his hand, and Albion waggled a finger his direction, dismissing the man just as the nose of the Excalibur entered the gate.
The captain’s skin tingled and he felt the familiar tightness in his guts as the gate transported the ship from space and spit it out the other side into Dev-ji 482’s atmosphere.
The transition was stark.
Where Belltros had shined with beauty, blues and greens mixed in with the earthen browns to reflect a beautiful palette of shifting colors as they flew over it, Dev-ji 482 was roiled in ashen-red dust and dirt as far as the eye could see. Even the clouds were tinged with it, hanging low and heavy as they cut through them.
“Breathable atmosphere,” Randall stated. “Well, within human tolerance, at least, though I sure wouldn’t want to suck in all that dirt blowing about.”
“We’ll keep our helmets on,” Albion said.
“We’re seriously going down there?” Lyana nearly twisted her head loose of her body to glare back at him.
“Depends on what we see from here.” He didn’t want to leave the ship any more than she did, but Vice Admiral Vance had already made it abundantly clear that what they wanted didn’t matter. “If we have to, we have to.”
His declaration silenced the crew and, as the Excalibur cleared the clouds, they got their first real look at the abandoned planet. Albion glanced pas the slow tow craft that crept just head and grimaced at the planet’s starkness.
“No wonder it was abandoned,” Randall said, his disgust clearly etched into his features.
Barren emptiness stretched out as far as Albion could see, the terrain blocked by regular gusts of dusty red wind. They followed the alien tow ship as it navigated the ugly skies, but it was the desolateness of the planet that held the captain’s attention.
Jagg
ed mountains rose in front of them, uneven crags reaching like broken fingers, dust swirling around their dull gray peaks. What little sunlight pierced the clouds made for a deep gloom that cast dancing shadows across the view screen. Long crevices, aptly looking like spider legs, spread across the planet’s surface, leaving very little of it flat or unblemished.
“We’re crossing the mountains,” Choi said, pointing out the barely discernible shift in scenery. “Not much to look at, you know.”
He was right. The same crevices and dull, ragged land punctuated the mountain as it did below. There weren’t any active geological aspects to the planet. It was simply dull, dead, and gray, from pole to pole.
At least that’s what Albion thought until they crested the far side of the mountain range.
The crew gasped at what lay at the base of the mountain. Instead of the same, colorless land, a vast, flat field splayed out before them. It was far from barren, however.
As the tow ship slowed and eased toward the field, Albion’s eyes were flooded with the unbelievable number of spacecraft that littered the open area. Row upon neatly space row were all the ships Albion had determined were missing and many more. Cruisers, freighters, civilian pleasure ships, and all manner of other transports, each designed for large numbers of passengers or crew, stretched for miles into the distance.
“Fifty-eight, if you’re wondering,” Crate said. Even he appeared impressed.
“How could they have hijacked this many ships and no one know about it?” Randall asked the question everyone had on the tip of their tongues. Unfortunately, no one had an answer for it.
“Any scans pinging us?” Albion asked.
“None yet, sir.”
“Choi, take us to the far end of the gra…” he’d started to say graveyard, then thought better of it, casting a furtive glance Mara’s direction, “line of ships nice and slowly. Commander, make sure we’re recording. I want overwhelming evidence to shove down Vance’s throat the minute we clear this planet’s defense shield and can broadcast again, understood?”
“Captain,” she said with a grunt. She clearly didn’t want to be there anymore than he did, but he understood. Cut off from Command, not that they’d get there in time to help if things went south anyway, they were on their own.
The Excalibur shifted from behind the tow ship as it maneuvered to set its cargo on the field, and cruised over the rows of discarded space craft. The sheer vastness of what was, essentially, a junkyard, was mindboggling. Each ship wore scars from the battles that had resulted in their capture, black scorch marks near their bridges and engines but, unlike the Ithaca, most looked as if intimidation had been sufficient to bring them to heel. Only a few looked crippled, which pulled a sigh from Albion. The less damaged the ships, the more likely the crews had made it through the attacks unharmed. Still, he surveyed every ship he could see, just to be sure. He needed to know what they were walking into. Albion spotted the CSS Bolton in the bunch, its hull blackened and charred but whole, though that was the only one he recognized as they flew over.
“What now?” Choi asked once they’d finally reached the end of the shipyard, empty space spreading out into the distance beyond.
Albion pointed at the base of the mountain where a massive, sealed entryway stood, built into the earth itself. It sat inside a half-moon of rock, the spaces on either side open and clear in both directions.
“Bring us to a hover over there,” he ordered.
Not more than a few minutes later, the Excalibur settled above the space the captain had pointed to, the circular stone rise blocking them from view from the entryway and the approach from the shipyard.
“Get me a drone on top of that rock. I want to see what the bugs are doing.”
“Drone away, Captain,” Randall replied. As soon as it was loose, the ensign switched to its camera and they watched its progress on the view screen until the drone settled. It stared out over the field and was set at an angle that allowed it to see anything approaching the entrance to the mountain.
“Still no pings?”
“No, sir.” Randall shrugged, Albion realizing he was likely just as surprised as the captain was that no one had questioned their presence there despite how conspicuous it was.
There wasn’t a single Xebedon craft anywhere to be seen except for the tow ship, and even that was out of their line of sight right then. It seemed strange that the bugs would simply let them hover over their obviously secret hostage site without anyone coming along to challenge them, even if Crate had manufactured an alien explanation for being there. It made Albion nervous to just sit there, but he knew he needed to wait to see what happened with the tow craft and its cargo.
Right then he wished he’d let Randall scan the damn cruiser. It would make knowing if there were passengers aboard the captured ship so much easier. Now, however, on the surface of the planet, he didn’t dare risk sending out a penetrative scan that would alert anyone to their presence on the planet. They might be dressed up as bugs, but the Xebedons had no reason to be scanning the shipyard for lifeforms.
He grimaced at the wait and listened to the shuffling of the crew as their impatience grew. It wasn’t long, however, before they had their answer, and Albion let out slow, long sigh.
There, just at the far edge of the drone’s camera range, shuffled a group of figures clustered together. Albion’s stomach sank when they drew closer. They were mostly human, though Albion spotted the bluish-hues of a couple of Sranths in the midst. Insectile guards skittered around the perimeter as the hostages were herded toward the massive doorway. Despite the number differential, the Xebedons outnumbered by a factor of twelve to one, the bugs had to do very little to keep the mass of humans moving. They had their heads down and, it was obvious to Albion, their spirits were broken, never once considering they could overwhelm the aliens easily enough despite their ferocity.
Yet, where would they go afterward? Albion cringed at the thought. He’d had much the same discussion with himself when he’d sentenced them to their current situation by deciding not to waylay the tow ship when he had a chance.
His stomach roiled as his choices presented themselves. There were too few to truly consider them as options. He could bring the Excalibur around and blast the aliens guarding the hostages, or he could let things play out as he had in space so he might find out what the aliens were up to. The former left him with dead passengers because the bugs would never let their ship escape the planet even if they made it that far, so it really wasn’t a decision at all.
He sat silently as the passengers were marched into the semi-circle of the doorway, the great door easing open at their approach. Given its position, the drone’s camera couldn’t turn far enough to allow them to see inside the entryway. Albion thought to send it streaking inside but, much like the scans, he figured that might be too bold a move. Still, he needed to make one soon, regardless.
“Crate, wake Ares and plug him into the view screen feed.”
The engineer tapped out a code on Randall’s console, and Ares’s voice echoed through the bridge a moment later.
“I’m here, Captain.”
“Can you see the door panel.”
“Yes.”
“Can you open it without triggering any alarms?”
“Certainly.”
Albion thanked the bot and let out a weary sigh, taking in his crew from the vantage point of his seat. They split their focus between the screen, where the last of the humans had been ushered inside and the great door had eased shut, and him, waiting for him to voice the order they knew was coming. He swallowed hard, hesitating to do what he knew he had to. At last, when the dust from the hostages’ passage settled, he climbed to his feet and stifled a sigh.
“Suit up, people. We still have a job to do.”
Fourteen
Sector 082, Allied Space
Dev-ji 482
Once the crew had on their armored body suits and had weapons strapped and ready to go, they stood i
n the drop pod as it sealed shut and pressurized around them. Though the Excalibur could operate in atmosphere, its design didn’t facilitate terran landings, no gear allowing it to settle on the planet. As such, Choi kept the ship hovering, and the crew would ride what was essentially a tiny, very short range life raft shuttle down to Dev-ji 482.
“Raft pressurized, Captain,” Choi’s voice echoed in the small craft. With everyone going planetside except the helmsman, they were squeezed in so tightly that their helmets clinked together if they moved too suddenly. “Preparing to drop.”
“You know what to do if the bugs find you, right?”
“I do,” Choi replied, “but I don’t particularly like it.”
“Regardless, at the hint of any trouble, you bail, back to space if necessary,” Albion told him. “If things fall apart down here, we need to get a message to Vance and Command, let them know what’s going on out here. If we’re stuck, you’re the only one who can do it.”
“No pressure.”
“You’re a big boy, Lieutenant. You can handle it.”
Choi muttered something the Captain chose to ignore, and then ordered the raft dropped. The helmsman did his duty without hesitation despite Albion knowing how much he didn’t want to be left alone on the ship.
There was a sudden lurch, and the raft broke loose of the Excalibur’s underbelly and sank toward the planet with an easy grace. The only indication that they’d landed was a quiet thump that vibrated the floor. The crew checked their weapons and gear once more and, when each offered a thumbs up, Lyana choosing a different finger, Albion opened the hatch. Gritty sand dusted them as soon as it was open, harsh grains scraping across their visors. A red glow seemed to suffuse everything, the dust reflecting what little sunlight penetrated the dirty clouds that loomed in the sky above.
“Looks like a swell vacation spot,” Lyana muttered.
Albion sighed. “As much as I appreciate the comms check, Commander, let’s stick to business while we’re here. While I don’t think the bugs are scanning for local channels, best not to test that theory and broadcast too often.”
