by Jamie Sawyer
Feng turned to Novak. “Hey, isn’t that…?” he said.
Novak balled his hands into fists. “Where is she?”
General Draven sighed. “I wish we knew, son. I wish we knew. She, and her gang, managed to escape Sanctuary during the chaos. Once the warden was free, they retreated via the same route they entered the station, using the Svetlana.”
“Where did ship go?” Novak said. His voice dripped with cold fury, the need for revenge crackling around him like an energy field.
“It broke dock,” Draven said. “The ship, together with Vasnev, is gone.”
“We must follow her,” Novak insisted. “This has to be done!”
“There are bigger issues to worry about right now,” said Secretary Lopez. “We need to move, and we need to move now. I’ve authorised acceleration of the Perfect Storm deployment schedule. We can’t risk another security breach.” He looked around the table, and none of the officers dared to meet his eye. “They tried to kill me. The Spiral and their allies had the audacity to make an attempt on my life.”
“What about the anti-virus compound?” I asked. “We all saw how quickly the Spiral reinfected that warden-form. This cure is no good if that’s all it takes.”
Secretary Lopez glared over at Director Mendelsohn. The camaraderie that they had shared aboard the Destiny was gone, and the Director was now plainly frightened of the consequences of failure. His position was precarious; Secretary Lopez could’ve been injured or killed, on his watch.
“We’re already working on another transmission model,” Mendelsohn said. “It can be fixed. It’ll take some time—one of the targets of this raid was our lab section, and we lost several replication vats—but examination of the deceased warden-form is proving informative. We’ll improve the anti-virus, increase the antigen load. Build a new manufacturing plant.”
“And that’ll work?” I asked.
“I’m confident that it will,” he said.
“I’m glad someone is…” Lopez muttered.
General Draven glanced at me. “Lieutenant, your mission has priority status. You have immediate disembarkation orders. Due to the situation aboard Sanctuary, Captain Heinrich will brief you en route. You’ve been assigned to the Valkyrie, under Commander Dieter.” I recognised the name from the briefing; the officer who had asked questions. That was a good start. “I understand that Pariah has been provided with medical attention.”
“That’s right,” I said. “Dr Saito says that it’ll pull through.”
“We’ll see to it that the alien is transported to your ship,” said General Draven. “You’re dismissed.”
The officers around the display saluted, and we did the same.
Secretary Lopez nodded at Lopez.
“My own daughter, so eager to enter the grist of war,” the Secretary said. His tone was somewhere between complimentary and disapproving, and I wasn’t sure how Lopez was supposed to take the comment. “Your mother would be proud of you.”
Lopez nodded, curtly. “I’m just doing my duty.”
“It’s all I can ask of any citizen of the Alliance,” said Secretary Lopez, regaining some of his politician’s composure. “I hope to see you all when your mission is complete.”
We left the Command Deck, and an MP escort was waiting for us.
“You guys expecting us to make a break for it?” I asked, with a grin.
“Not you, ma’am,” said the sombre MP sergeant, as he loaded our away bags—I hadn’t even bothered to unpack since the mission on Vektah Minor—onto the waiting buggy. He risked a glance in Novak’s direction. “But I wouldn’t put it past the lifer.”
Novak lifted his lip in an impression of a snarl. “I go where am told.”
That was probably a fair assessment of the facts. I had already made the decision to keep a close eye on Novak, after what we had just been told. His breathing was still ragged, and he continued to pump his fists. The rage inside of him was barely restrained.
The MP officer navigated the corridors cross-station, towards the docks. He was jittery, as though he expected more Black Spiral agents to jump out of the shadows at any moment. There were troopers and sailors everywhere, prepping for the collection of missions that made up Operation Perfect Storm.
We pulled into the main dock, the MP pushing through the crowd. The UAS Valkyrie sat in a docking armature, her profile visible through the hangar’s view-port. The umbilical tube that led to the ship was open, crew and deckhands coming back and forth. The MP pulled up the buggy, and started unloading our gear. We made our way down the umbilical corridor, carried along by the flow of Navy crew.
“The Valkyrie is a Special Operations ship,” Zero explained, reading from her wrist-comp. In the short period since leaving the Command Deck, she’d already downloaded the ship’s specs. Standard Zero. “She’s nominally under the command of the Alliance Navy, but otherwise functions outside of the usual chain of command. An assault-carrier, with a full range of Simulant Operations upgrades. She’s got a high-spec Sim Ops Centre, a cryogenics storage vault to keep your skins on ice.” She pointed to the ship’s underbelly. “She’s also got a Pathfinder-deployment bay.”
“That’s marvellous,” I said.
“I wish I could find out more,” Zero added. She shook her head. “Everything’s happening so fast.”
“I hear that,” Feng replied.
It felt like everyone and everything on Sanctuary was under pressure to move, move, move.
“Permission to come aboard, Valkyrie,” I said.
The duty officer gave a salute on our approach and nodded. “Approved.”
“I’m glad to see that you made it out of that compartment,” said another voice. “Welcome aboard the ship, Jackals. I’m Commander Vie Dieter.”
I recognised Commander Dieter as the officer from the briefing fiasco. Vie Dieter was tall, lean-faced, and looked about as tired as I felt. She ran a hand through her short red hair. She might not have been physically hurt during the attack, but mentally it had surely taken its toll.
“It was a little closer than we would’ve liked,” I said.
Dieter nodded. “Twenty-six casualties, so I hear. The Spiral are getting bolder every day.”
“We’ll have to see what we can do about changing that,” I said.
“Your fish has already been boarded,” Dieter informed me. “The security team is keeping the specimen under observation.” She gave the slightest impression of a wince, and indicated over her shoulder. “I didn’t give the order. It came from the top.”
Another figure emerged from the docking staff, a voice cutting through the background noise.
“Double time it, sailors! Double time it!” Captain Heinrich yelled. “We’ve got a war to win!”
It was disappointing to hear that the captain’s sense of micro-management hadn’t diminished as a result of his brush with death. There was some immutable law that applied to officers like Heinrich: their ability to escape injury was about as universal as physics or general relativity. I was more surprised to see that Heinrich was accompanied by an all-too-familiar face. Captain Ving was at Heinrich’s side, and the rest of Phoenix Squad marched behind Ving.
“What’s he doing here?” Lopez hissed at me, as the ship’s crew completed final checks.
“I have no idea,” I said.
“The briefing said that we were working with the Executioners!” Lopez argued.
“Jackals, to attention please,” Heinrich said. He smiled at me, through his moustache. “Any time today will do.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. My team dropped into a sullen series of salutes.
“Phoenix Squad are here at my request,” Heinrich said, proudly. “You’ll be deploying with them.”
“There was no mention of Phoenix Squad in the briefing session,” I protested.
“Hmmm? No, I suppose there wasn’t. Well, that attack changed things. The Executioners suffered a fatality.”
Despite Heinrich’s news, Ving cr
acked a smile. He looked supremely smug. Phoenix Squad chortled around him. They really were buffoons.
“You don’t think you could be trusted to do this alone, do you, Lieutenant?” Heinrich asked, signing something off on a Navy ensign’s data-slate. “Put those crates over there, in the secondary hold. Yes, with the main weapons load.” He looked up at me again, as though surprised I was still there. “The mission specified a second Simulant Operations team. I selected Phoenix Squad.”
“There are plenty of other teams on Sanctuary,” Feng complained.
Heinrich’s eyes flared with anger. “I am mission commander,” he said. “I will decide who is assigned to this mission, if you please. Now get your shit together, and start towing the company line, Jackals.”
“You heard the man,” Ving muttered.
“All hands, prepare for disembarkation,” came the ship’s androgynous AI. “All hands, prepare for disembarkation.”
Captain Heinrich turned tail and marched across the bay.
Ving nodded at me, gave me a head tip with his fingers. “Look forward to working with you, Jenkins.”
Lopez gave a sigh. “Is it too late to back out?”
“Probably,” I said, watching Ving and his team go.
“Do you want to?” Zero said.
Lopez shook her head. “No. Not really, but I don’t like the idea of spending another day in that bastard’s company.”
I grinned. “You mean Heinrich, or Ving?”
“Both,” she spat.
“Stand clear!” an ensign called. “Docking bay door all close!”
“Wait!” someone yelled.
A figure scrambled up the umbilical, into the hold. It was Dr Saito, dressed in the usual Sci-Div uniform, clutching an away bag. The deck chief stationed at the door control frowned, blocking Saito’s path.
“The crew manifest is full,” the chief said. “You’re on the wrong ship.”
“I’m a late assignment,” Dr Saito said, fumbling with his data-slate to prove his credentials. “Here. I have papers.”
The deck chief glanced at Saito’s authorisation. He scanned it with his wrist-comp, and was obviously satisfied with what he saw.
“Science Officer Ames has been taken ill,” said Dr Saito. “I’m her replacement.”
“All right, you’re cleared. Get moving. We’re already running behind schedule. All clear, all clear!”
The bay doors whined shut at both ends of the umbilical, severing the link to Sanctuary Base.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VALKYRIE’S PATH
Several hours into the mission, the ship’s PA chimed, sounding a general address.
“Now hear this, now hear this,” said Captain Heinrich, his every word dripping with self-importance. “The UAS Valkyrie expects to make the first quantum-space jump within the hour.”
Lopez lay on the bunk opposite me, her hands locked behind her head. She stared up at the deckhead.
“That was fast,” she muttered. “Leaving Alliance space, I mean.”
“This ship must have a decent drive on her,” Feng remarked.
But Heinrich hadn’t finished. He continued: “There will be a ship-wide briefing at twelve-hundred hours. All command and mission-essential staff are to attend. That is all.”
As he finished speaking, my wrist-comp chimed. The rest of the Jackals got the same alert.
“Huh?” Novak said, looking down at his own comp. “So now I am mission-essential too, yes?”
“Essential to us as ever,” I said, with a grin. I rolled off my bunk. “Look alive, people. Get mustered for the briefing.”
“Copy that,” Feng said. He stretched his legs across the deck, and Zero nearly fell over him.
“This sharing a ship with another squad is going to take some getting used to,” Zero said.
She had a point. The Providence had been a big strikeship, one of the older class models. The Valkyrie was newer, built for speed, a proper Spec Ops ship. Luxuries like personal space weren’t a consideration, especially when the ship was fully crewed. With more personnel came smaller quarters. Somewhat ironically, there was never enough space to go round on a starship.
The chamber hatch slid open. Ving stood there, a towel over his shoulder, exuding malice, testosterone and over-confidence. The phoenix tattoo rippled across his bare chest, and he smelt of fresh sweat. I assumed that he had been using the starship’s gymnasium, and made a mental note that was an area of the ship I should avoid.
“Enjoying your new quarters, Dogs?” he asked.
Lopez sighed, but I glared at her, and she said nothing.
“Yes, Captain Ving, we are,” I answered. “What’s your malfunction?”
He sneered. “I came by to remind you not to be late. Major Heinrich; he doesn’t take kindly to lateness.”
“We heard the address, just like everyone else,” I said.
“Yeah, well, I remember what you guys were like back on Unity Base.”
“We’ve changed a lot since then,” I said.
Ving glanced around the room, disdainfully. “Christo and Gaia, these are some small quarters.”
“They work for us.”
“I’ll bet. You should see Phoenix Squad’s quarters. Now, that’s a barracks for a proper Sim Ops team.”
“If you say so. Was there anything else, or are we just about done? I ask because, as you’ve just reminded us, we have somewhere to be.”
Ving bristled a little, but stood back. “Be seeing you,” he said.
The hatch hummed shut behind him.
“Jesus, that guy is an asshole,” Lopez said, as soon as we were on our own.
“We should watch him,” Zero whispered.
The Valkyrie’s briefing room was filled with staff. Captain Heinrich had insisted on the attendance of most of the Naval command-element, as well as the Sim Ops crew and support staff, including Dr Saito. We were all seated around the tac-viewer.
“The flight plan will take us through the Former Quarantine Zone,” said Commander Dieter, circling the display, “then towards the Van Diem Straits.” She pointed out a system known only by a string of numbers. “We’ll use the gravitational pull of this star here, to bring us into the Maelstrom proper.”
Dieter reeled off technical data on the various pitfalls we could expect. There were more than enough of those: just because this was charted space, didn’t mean it was safe. The danger increased as we sailed closer to the Maelstrom. There were black holes, stellar rifts, and Christo-only-knew what else along the way.
“A trip into the ’Strom never fails to surprise,” I said.
“That’s very true,” said Dieter. She spoke with a clipped, Euro-Confed accent, and had a manner about her that settled somewhere between practised professionalism and cold detachment. I liked her. “Once we breach this system, we’ll be in an unexplored sector of the Maelstrom.”
“This would be a lot safer if we still had access to the Shard Gates,” Zero said, with a dismayed sigh.
Commander Dieter nodded. “And faster, too.”
“We must work with what we have,” said Captain Heinrich. “Proceed, Commander.”
“The first phase of the route will finish here,” Commander Dieter concluded. “That jump will take us into the Drift. It will be crunch time; there are several stellar disturbances in the vicinity, and the Q-jump points are likely to be unstable. We’ll then engage a series of manoeuvres deeper into the Drift, to reach our final objective.” She called up more graphics, and things started to become interesting: Dieter’s eyes flickering with passion. “The intelligence on this place is quite remarkable.” She looked over at me. “Is it right, Lieutenant Jenkins, that this came from a tattoo?”
“That’s correct,” I said. “Dr Locke carried it with her.”
Well, there was a bit more to the story than that, but I chose not to give an explanation. Dr Olivia Locke had copied a map, with supporting stellar data, onto and into her body: so that it had become part of her. She
had carried that intel around with her, and gone into hiding on Kronstadt so that it wouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. It was the only surviving copy of this information.
“Yes, the doctor,” Heinrich muttered, disapprovingly. “The rogue doctor.”
“According to Dr Locke’s intelligence, our final destination will be the Ghost Maker Nebula,” Commander Dieter said. “The Nebula itself is virtually unclassifiable. It contains several black holes, the remnants of at least a dozen stars. The entire sector is swathed in exotic energies.” Dieter manipulated the viewer controls, zoomed in on a particular star system, then a specific planet. “The target is a planet in orbit around this neutron star. Command has designated the world ‘Carcosa’.”
“What are Carcosa’s conditions?” Feng asked.
Commander Dieter shook her head. “Unknown. Alliance probes haven’t been able to penetrate the outer veil of the Ghost Maker Nebula. There’s a lot of interference there, worse than most areas of the Drift and the Great Veil.”
“But no enemy contacts?” I queried.
“Not so far. The region appears almost deserted.”
Novak snorted. “So Krell do not like so much?”
“That seems to be the case,” Commander Dieter said. “We’ll obtain more data as we get nearer.”
“The Valkyrie is equipped with a full drop-capsule bay,” Captain Heinrich said. “We’re going to do this the old-fashioned way, with boots on the ground. I want the bay prepped for launch by the time we reach the Ghost Maker Nebula. The strike-force will make planetfall via drop-capsule, and can be considered expendable. You’re all Pathfinder drop-accredited, so this won’t be a problem.”
Lopez nodded. “We remember Kronstadt.”
The Jackals had used drop-capsules to deploy from a strikeship in orbit around Kronstadt, during the Krell invasion. That had been the squad’s first taste of the technology—essentially, a system that launched a user from orbit, directly to a planet’s surface. It was crude, outdated and typically very dangerous for the user: a perfect deployment technique for the Sim Ops Programme.
