Negation Force (Obsidiar Fleet Book 1)

by Anthony James

  Lieutenant Cruz was in the same place on the ground as when they’d first met. “I heard enough, Sergeant. How long until your men get here? The Vraxar have proved themselves extremely decisive in their attack on Tillos. I can’t imagine they’ll sit on their hands for long.”

  “We’ll be ready in less than twenty minutes. I’m going to send four of Squad A to the bunker entrance to guide the others here. I’ll get one of them to help you back. You’ll be safer underground.”

  Cruz looked torn for a moment until she saw what the risks were to the men. “I’ll stay here. I can’t move very fast and I’ll put my escort at risk if there’s a firefight.”

  “I can’t guarantee we’ll be able to come back this way.”

  “I’ll figure something out. I’ve got Larry to help me and I’m aware of the possible consequences.”

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “Are you clear on what you’re looking for?” Cruz asked.

  “Clear enough. The visor HUD has layout plans for the whole base. We should be able to get from the hub to the CCB without getting lost.”

  “I wish I could come with you. Of all the lousy luck to snap an ankle.”

  Cruz’s expression was sincere and McKinney believed what she said. “On the other hand, if you hadn’t ended up stuck here, we’d never have found you and wouldn’t have learned about the data arrays.” He looked up at the countless tonnes of rubble overhead. “Or about the entrance to the hub hidden under all this crap.”

  “A man who looks on the bright side of things? Doesn’t that make you an optimist? What are you doing in the Space Corps, Sergeant?” asked Cruz in mock surprise.

  “I’m as pessimistic as the best of them, ma’am. I’m just trying to learn new tricks.”

  Cruz chewed her lip for a minute, lost in thought. “Larry and I got separated from some others down there. It’s possible they found a way to the surface and are hiding out on the base. Or they could still be under the hub.”

  “Civilians?”

  “Two civilians and Second Lieutenant Terence Reynolds. If by any chance you happen to come across them, there’s a chance Lieutenant Reynolds might order you to do something contrary to what we’ve planned.”

  “He’ll want you to save his miserable hide, whatever the cost,” said Keller. When he caught the others looking at him, he shrugged. “I’m a civilian – I can say what I like about him.”

  McKinney wasn’t certain if that was strictly true. It didn’t matter – he’d heard the warning and would keep an eye out. “I’ll stick to the mission.”

  “It’s not you I’m worried about, Sergeant.”

  He caught on. There were some in the squad who might choose to obey the orders of an officer superior in rank to a sergeant. “You could give them a direct order before we go, ma’am.”

  “I could, but I’m aware of what changes circumstances can bring.”

  “Shoot the bastard if he tries any funny business,” said Keller.

  “I’ll treat anything which arises on its merits, sir,” said McKinney drily.

  With the details more or less ironed out, McKinney sent four of his squad to the Section D entrance to rendezvous with the other soldiers. They moved out and he tracked their position using his visor HUD. Squad A arrived at the entrance first and they waited on the ramp. Squad C arrived next and lastly Squad B.

  “On our way,” said Li.

  “Take care,” McKinney warned. “We shot a few of the Vraxar – they’re fast and I wouldn’t like to be surprised by them.”

  The soldiers made the trip without encountering the enemy. They entered the area beneath the rubble which McKinney had started to think of as a room. There was plenty of space for them to stand in four rows of five, their suits and reflective visors making them appear every bit as alien as the Vraxar, albeit considerably less ugly. They were armed to the teeth with repeaters, rifles and grenades.

  McKinney outlined the plan in a few short sentences. After it was done, he said farewell to Lieutenant Cruz and led his squad towards a narrow vertical gap at the far end of the room. At first glance, it appeared to lead nowhere but when he squeezed through, it opened out again into a wide, low space with pieces of overhanging concrete waiting to catch the heads of the unwary. Hardly any daylight reached this area and McKinney turned on his visor torch. A beam of yellow light danced around, bobbing with the movement of his head. He’d already scouted through here and knew exactly what he was looking for.

  “There,” he said.

  There was a hole in the ground. It was a square opening, three metres to a side and with a smashed console lying halfway across. McKinney stooped uncomfortably low to avoid injury from the ceiling and crabbed his way to the opening. There were steps going down and they were intact. At the bottom of the steps was the dull metal of a thick doorframe. The door was in its recess to one side and the way was clear for them to proceed.

  “If we’re lucky, there’ll be no immediate resistance. It’s more than a thousand metres until we get close to the CCB. After that, we’re likely to be knee high in the crap.”

  “I’m going to get me a medal for this,” said Garcia.

  There were a few laughs and McKinney waved the men into silence. “Let’s have no pissing about, unless you want to go on point.”

  “Sorry, Sergeant.”

  “Hold here. I’ll scout.”

  McKinney turned off his suit light. The visor sensor switched on the image intensifiers, turning everything to shades of black and green. Sharp edges became rough and the finer details blurred together. He turned on the movement detector as well – in the training exercises he’d learned it was the motion of the enemy which was easiest to spot.

  Leaving the soldiers standing motionless behind, he descended the steps, trying to keep his footfall as quiet as possible. The room at the bottom was large, with three wide security desks arrayed across the middle. There were chairs fixed to one wall and a refreshments replicator nearby, its selection menu screen blank.

  There were two exit corridors from the room and McKinney crept over to the one which would lead them most efficiently to their destination. The HUD on his visor showed a tiny map of the immediate vicinity, with him as an orange dot in the middle. This first room was dark, but about halfway down each of the two corridors, the emergency lighting was in operation. It was a mixed blessing and, all things considered, McKinney would have preferred darkness.

  The corridor stretched away into the distance, with doors to the left and right. It ended at a T-junction. McKinney stopped and listened carefully, giving the visor an opportunity to pick up any sounds. It was absolutely quiet, except for the occasional scrape of movement from the men on the steps.

  “Move up,” he said.

  Something caught his eye in the moments it took the men to file cautiously into the room - it was a photo frame on the desk. He reached out a hand with unexpected trepidation. There was an image of a young boy in the frame, his expression of happiness expertly captured by the photographer. With a feeling of intense sorrow, McKinney put the photo back, exactly where he’d found it. Anger came quickly to replace the sorrow and he clung to it.

  “We’re going along this corridor and turning right at the end,” he said. “Garcia, with me. We’ll go first. Clifton, Mills, cover us with your rifles.”

  This was a lot of soldiers to bring through the confined spaces beneath the base. If they didn’t play it right, they could find themselves vulnerable to explosives or repeater fire. McKinney ran as fast as he could along the passage whilst still keeping the noise to a minimum. The barrel of his repeater was comforting in his hands and he kept it aimed straight. His finger stroked the activation trigger in anticipation.

  At each right-hand doorway, he stopped and looked inside, with Garcia doing the same for the left. There were offices beyond the doorways with identical desks, chairs and shelf units - the epitome of the Space Corps’ disregard for visual flair.

  “Clear!” shou
ted McKinney over the open channel.

  “Clear!” said Garcia, in his own rhythm of run-check-run.

  The pair of them arrived at the end of the corridor. McKinney looked both ways, sticking his head out into space and withdrawing it quickly. “Nothing.”

  “No sound,” said Garcia.

  “Agreed,” said McKinney. He looked at the layout again – the right-hand passage would take them to room 1415A. The map didn’t explain what the room’s purpose was intended to be – it was just one of many such spaces.

  “Listen up – Garcia and I are moving to check out 1415A. The rest of Squad A, move up to our present position. Squads B and C hold until I say so.”

  McKinney looked again, trying to see what lay ahead in the room. The emergency lighting was to provide guidance only and wasn’t meant to be sufficient for day-to-day operations. Consequently, it was hard to be certain exactly what the room contained. There were dark, square shapes, which he assumed were operator consoles.

  Staying low, he set off. He covered the distance in fifteen rapid strides and repeated his procedure of stopping at the entrance and looking inside. Once again, there was no movement or sound. He chanced a look over the top of the consoles. A sign hung from the ceiling over the middle of the room. Breakout Area C. A collection of utilitarian chairs were gathered underneath, clad in a bright blue cloth. The blue was the high point of this room and there were no Vraxar hiding.

  Garcia waited on the opposite side of the corridor, his reflective visor pointing directly at McKinney. The two men shrugged in unison.

  “1415A is clear,” McKinney said. “All squads move up and we’ll secure the area.”

  A minute later and it was done – twenty soldiers were arrayed about the room, covering the three exit corridors with repeaters.

  McKinney oriented himself – the next target was room 1720M, which was to be found at the end of the corridor straight ahead.

  “Garcia, with me,” he said.

  The two men did the same again - advance, scan and secure. Two minutes later, the same twenty soldiers were in room 1720M, arrayed in slightly different positions around a similar set of furniture.

  “Where the hell are they?” asked McCall.

  “Maybe they’ve left already,” said Zack Chance.

  “They’re here, soldier. We simply haven’t found them yet.”

  McKinney double-checked the map. They were still some distance from the CCB’s underground complex but it was a little surprising they’d not encountered any of the enemy so far, especially given Lieutenant Cruz’s report about how numerous they were. McKinney didn’t like the unexpected and each step they covered without an engagement made him ask if there was a nasty surprise somewhere up ahead.

  He was conflicted – the part of him which felt the pressure of time was gripped with the urge to run onwards, shooting at anything which moved. The cautious side of Sergeant Eric McKinney, the side which was fully aware this was still his first proper engagement with a real enemy, advised him to take his time and ensure nothing went wrong. Balancing the two approaches was important, but also difficult.

  “We’ve got to reach the bottom of Stairwell North-C, which is way over there,” he said. “After that, two more open areas and we’ll be at the outskirts of the CCB complex.”

  “I’m going to take a shit in Colonel Tenney’s toilet,” said Huey Roldan, sparking a few laughs.

  McKinney found himself boiling over. He marched across and shoved the man. McKinney was strong and the push sent Roldan stumbling into a wall.

  “Everybody is dead you idiot!” McKinney yelled at him. “Can’t you understand? It’s not the time for laughs! If we don’t fix this, these Vraxar will find out where our other planets are located and then they might kill everyone!”

  Roldan got to his feet. McKinney didn’t know what the man’s reaction would be and he held himself ready.

  “Hey, Sergeant, I’m real sorry. Sometimes you’ve just got to joke, you know? It wasn’t meant as anything against the dead. If you can’t laugh, then there’s nothing left.”

  As quickly as it came, McKinney’s anger subsided. “Yeah. Let’s keep it together, Soldier. Me included. We might be the only ones who can do this.”

  Ten minutes later, McKinney was reassured Stairwell North-C was clear of hostiles and he ordered the men to descend into the room below. This was a large space, filled with consoles. Instrument panels were fitted to one wall and there were two replicators. At one time this area must have been a hive of activity.

  The dividends of peace had let much of the base fall empty and it occurred to McKinney how much harder it would have been for the Vraxar to overcome the base if it had been working around the clock. The aliens could have destroyed everything on the surface easily enough but when it came to putting their troops on the ground, they’d have encountered a lot more resistance in these underground warrens. The time of peace had come to an end, that was clear enough to see.

  “Got movement,” said Grover urgently. “Coming our way.”

  Instantly, the men tensed up, holding their repeaters tightly, their eyes darting about.

  “Where?”

  Grover blew out, the sound of his relief apparent to everyone. “Don’t shoot – it’s one of the base personnel.”

  They heard the sound of man’s voice, coming from one of the side passages. “Wait! I need help!”

  “Shut up!” hissed Brogan. “You’ll let everyone know we’re here.”

  The man emerged into the room. “Soldiers – am I glad to see you,” he said loudly. “About time you got here.”

  “Keep your voice down,” McKinney told him.

  The man got the message. “Who’s in charge?” he asked, speaking quietly this time.

  McKinney lifted his visor out of politeness. “I am. Sergeant McKinney.”

  “Lieutenant Reynolds. You’re going to get me out of here, Sergeant.”

  McKinney studied the new arrival. Lieutenant Reynolds was pushing forty, wiry, with a thick, unkempt black beard and long hair. There was something dislikeable about the man.

  “We’ve been ordered to attack the enemy, sir.”

  Reynolds blinked. “Isn’t this a rescue? Haven’t the Space Corps arrived with reinforcements?”

  “Negative to both, sir. Lieutenant Cruz has ordered us into the Central Command Building to destroy the main Tillos data arrays.”

  “You’ll get slaughtered! The place is crawling with these alien things.”

  “I’m told they are called Vraxar, sir. I was also told you were accompanied by civilians.”

  Reynolds looked shifty. “They didn’t make it.”

  “But you did, sir.”

  “That’s what military training does for you. I should probably lead this mission but I can see you are much better equipped than I am. I would like three of these men to escort me to the surface and then you can continue.”

  “I can’t offer you an escort, Lieutenant Reynolds.” McKinney thumbed over his shoulder. “Up these stairs, across two rooms until you get to 1415A. It’s clear. I’m sure you can find your way out from there. Lieutenant Cruz is outside. Maybe you can help her get to the underground bunker. It’ll be safe in there – as safe as anywhere else.”

  Reynolds narrowed his eyes. “Lieutenant Cruz is hurt?”

  “Not badly.”

  “She’ll appreciate my assistance.”

  With that, Reynolds turned towards the staircase. He was clearly a good enough judge of character to realise he wasn’t getting an escort and he didn’t ask again. McKinney watched Reynolds go and saw the man’s hand touch the gauss pistol tucked into his belt, as if seeking reassurance it was still there.

  McKinney put Reynolds from his mind, lowered his visor and set off in the direction of the CCB.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The interior of the Vraxar shuttle was spartan. Captain Charlie Blake took in the few details – he was in a long, narrow space with benches to either side. The flo
or was flat and covered in grating, whilst the roof curved overhead. Light came from a series of pinprick sources, casting a dirty yellow illumination onto the occupants.

  The interior walls were a grey so dark it was easy to mistake for black. There was a mixture of smells – overwhelmingly metallic, but also other odours. Blake picked up the bitter scent of greasy liquids as well as something which he thought very similar to formaldehyde. It was unpleasant and clung to the insides of his nostrils.

  From his position sitting on of one of the hard benches, he could see screens on the front bulkhead wall. Alien letters scrolled across, appearing and disappearing at irregular intervals. He lowered his suit visor, wondering if the built-in language modules could make anything of the script.

  [Failure – language not recognized. Download additional language packs for interpretation. ERR CODE#932]

  He lifted the visor again. Lieutenant Caz Pointer sat opposite him, her suit and face smeared in grime. She wore an expression of absolute misery. Lieutenant Gabriel Rivera sat a few feet away from her, his suited arms folded across his chest and his visor pulled down so he wouldn’t have to meet Blake’s eyes. The man was a disgrace and it was difficult to avoid the uncharitable thought that it would have been better for Commander Cain Brady to have survived instead of Rivera. Added to that were the deaths of every single one of the Determinant’s soldiers. Blake hadn’t known them well, but the loss was difficult to bear. He grimaced.

  “What’s going to happen to us?” Pointer asked, not for the first time.

  “I don’t know, Lieutenant. They didn’t kill us and that’s a positive sign.”

  “How do they know our language when we don’t know theirs?”

  “They must have extracted and analysed enough examples from the Tillos base to piece together how we speak. Whatever they are, they’re only partially biological – I’m sure they’ve got processing units to interface between the alloy part of their bodies and the flesh. Maybe they don’t even have an organic brain.”

  “They look like Ghasts, sir.”