by G J Ogden
Replacing the cell in his own pistol, Sterling climbed to a crouch and continued to fire, but the onslaught from the beasts seemed never-ending. Backing up the stairs, he glanced across to Banks, who was still trying to fight back the creatures that were amassing on the landing. Suddenly, one of the beasts made a move, launching itself at Banks like a cat pouncing at its prey. Sterling fired, trying to hit the creature in mid-flight, but missed. The beast collided with Banks, its powerful front legs clawing at her. Sterling could do nothing other than watch in horror and amazement as Banks caught the creature by its shins and wrestled it off her. The eyes of his first officer were almost as wild as those of the beast. Sterling continued to fire, driving back the other creatures on the landing as Banks roared and retaliated. The organic snap of muscle being torn from bone then echoed through the corridor. It was followed soon after by a nauseating howl, the likes of which only a medieval torturer might have heard before. Glancing across to Banks, he saw she had ripped the animal’s legs out of its shoulder joints, leaving them splayed at ninety-degree angles. It had been as effortless as pulling a cooked chicken leg from the carcass of the roasted bird.
Suddenly, fire engulfed the landing at the top of the stairs, and more howls and scraping claws filled the air. Through the blaze, Sterling saw another figure, but unlike the beasts that had stalked them, this was human. Flaming torches sailed over Sterling’s head, so close that the fire singed the short hairs on the top of his head. The torches landed at the foot of the staircase and immediately the beasts howled and scurried away. In the new light from the fires, Sterling could now see the figure at the top of the stairs more clearly. It was a woman dressed in a combination of furs and what looked like old Fleet survival gear. She was perhaps in her thirties, though Sterling found it difficult to judge considering that her mouth and nose were covered by a fabric bandana. The woman was then joined by another woman and two men.
“You can come up now,” the woman who had first appeared called out. “They don’t like fire. They won’t come near us now.”
Sterling turned back to Shade and handed her his pistol. “Cover our rear,” he said, before turning back to the new arrivals and climbing the stairs to the landing.
Banks arrived at Sterling's side, her chest still heaving from the exertion and adrenalin of her struggle with the beast. Her eyes were no longer wild, but she still bristled with raw, nervous energy. If it were needed, Sterling felt sure that she could have punched her way through the walls of the complex to make an escape route.
“I’ve never seen anyone do that before,” the woman said, peering down at the mutilated body of the beast, spread open like a spatchcocked hen. “Are you human or some sort of android?” she addressed Banks directly.
“I’m just someone it’s best not to make angry,” Banks replied, though her tone was surprisingly light and convivial.
“I can see that,” replied the woman. She then pulled down her bandana to reveal her face and offered Banks her hand. “I’m Jana, by the way,” she said. Banks took the woman’s hand and shook it. “I’m guessing you guys are Fleet?” she added, this time looking at Sterling.
“Yes, we are,” replied Sterling, offering Jana his hand, which she accepted. “Thanks for the assist. I don’t think we’d have gotten out of here without you.”
The woman nodded, accepting Sterling’s thanks. “The question is, what are you doing here?” she said, releasing Sterling’s hand. “I haven’t seen anyone from Fleet on this world since…” she hesitated then shrugged. “Well, since forever. For as long as I’ve been alive, in any case.”
“It’s a long story,” replied Sterling, with a wry smile.
“I’d like to hear it,” Jana replied. “We don’t get many visitors around here.”
Sterling glanced down at the smoldering bodies of the wolf-like beasts. “Not friendly ones, anyway,” he said, gesturing the creatures.
Jana laughed and wafted her hand at the creatures dismissively. “Oh, these things are puppy dogs compared to some of the genuine monsters that lurk down here,” she replied, darkly.
Sterling remembered about the commando team and his pulse began to race again. “Can you come with us?” Sterling asked. “We have more people down here that might need your help, and your fire.”
“I know,” Jana said, with a breezy nonchalance. “I’ll take you to them, and make sure the way back to your ship is kept clear of our furry friends,” she added. As with his earlier conversation with Banks, Sterling could tell there was a but coming. “But if you want our help, you’ll need to give us some of the contents of those vaults,” Jana added. “We’ve been trying to get into them for years.”
Sterling glanced at Banks, who just shrugged in response. He then peered down at the still smoldering collection of beasts littering the stairwell and huffed a laugh.
“Under the circumstances, I think I’ll accept your offer,” he said to Jana, smiling. “It sounds like a fair deal.”
Chapter 9
The ghosts of fleet’s past
By the time Sterling and the others had reached the vault rooms, accompanied by the colonists, two commandoes had already been killed. The beasts that inhabited the lower levels of the abandoned Fleet base had torn through their commando armor like it was paper, then ripped their flesh to shreds. The three remaining commandoes had managed to drive the creatures back, discovering only by accident the protective effects of fire. Incendiary grenades had not only served as an effective weapon against the creatures, but the burning remains of the dead beasts had ensured others kept clear. Now it was the flaming torches of the colonists that protected the group. Dozens had been set up outside the vault-room door, and lining the corridors back to the ship. Even so, the eyes of the predatory creatures that had attacked Sterling could be seen lurking in the areas of the base that were still shrouded in darkness. On the plus side, Sterling had managed to retrieve some old command access codes from the computer on the Invictus. These had successfully unlocked the vault door, without the need for a brute-force entry.
“Let’s have your report, Lieutenant,” Sterling asked Lieutenant Razor, who was interrogating the vault’s inventory computer. “Is there anything of value in here or not?”
“Well, there’s good news and bad news,” said Razor, in a matter-of-fact tone.
“That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear,” replied Sterling, feeling his mood sink. “Give me the bad news first.”
Razor turned from the computer interface on the wall and referred to the device on her wrist instead. She tapped the screen so that it expanded and solidified to provide a wider field of view.
“The bad news is that probably fifty percent of the stored meal trays have perished,” Razor began, scanning down the list of items she’d highlighted. “That was down to the local vermin that the Fleet crew who managed these stores failed to deal with.”
Sterling scowled then began to check the floor around his feet. “Vermin? What kind of vermin?” He said, sounding a little fretful. Given the beasts they’d just encountered, he was envisaging rat-like monsters the size of small dogs with three-inch fangs. Banks snorted a laugh as Sterling hopped around on the spot, causing him to scowl back at her instead.
“Long dead vermin, thankfully, Captain,” Razor then answered. “They may have found food in here, but there was no oxygen or water. However, while they were alive, they did plenty of damage.”
Sterling sighed then nodded. “How long will the food supplies last us?” he asked, returning his attention to the chief engineer.
“Three or four months, I’d say,” replied Razor.
Sterling's brow wrinkled. “Three or four months? I don’t plan on being in the Void for three weeks, never mind three months, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, feeling a sudden weight lift from his shoulders. “What about fuel stores and other components?”
Razor checked her computer while Sterling sifted through some of the intact meal trays that his engineer had uncovered.<
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“The official inventory reports that the fuel depot is at ten percent of capacity,” Razor continued, while continuing to flick through the data. “That’s more than enough for the Invictus, especially if we’re not planning a protracted stay in the Void.”
“Understood, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, smiling at one of the vacuum-sealed trays then handing it to Banks. His first officer took the tray then laughed, flipping it over and holding it up like a trophy.
“A vintage number four, duck cassoulet,” Banks said, smiling sweetly at Sterling. “You sure know how to treat a girl, Captain.”
Sterling picked up another tray and tapped his finger to the identification code on the packaging. “Even better, they have a stack of number twenty-sevens,” he said, unable to hide his excitement.
Razor observed the curious exchange between the two most senior officers of the Invictus, appearing more awkward as the conversation developed.
“Are you sure those are safe to eat, Captain?” Razor chipped in, picking up one of the trays and examining it. “They are over forty years old, after all.”
“They could be two hundred years old for all the difference it would make, Lieutenant,” Sterling replied, dropping the number twenty-seven back onto the pile. “Just heat ‘em and eat ‘em, that’s all there is to it.” However, judging from the revolted expression on his engineer’s face, Sterling didn’t think Razor had been fully convinced by his assurances that the vintage meal trays were edible. “Transfer what we need to the Invictus, Lieutenant, but take only what we need, understood?”
“Aye, sir,” replied Razor, though the engineer appeared perplexed. “Our hold is large enough to take it all, though, Captain, should you want to.”
Sterling shook his head. “Leave the rest for the colonists. We would have been dinner for the creatures down here if it wasn’t for them.”
“Aye, sir,” Razor replied, briskly. The engineer then headed off to continue her inventory and co-ordinate the teams from the Invictus who were standing ready to transfer the supplies to the ship.
“We should take it all, you know,” said Banks, once Razor was out of earshot. “If we take damage and are forced to land to make repairs, it could easily be a couple of months before we get back to friendlier space.”
“Perhaps,” said Sterling, idly picking up an old Fleet issue plasma pistol and toying with it. The energy cell design was now incompatible with the newer pistols they carried making it nothing more than a display piece. “But I made a deal,” he added, meeting Banks’ eyes. “I may be a cold-hearted killer, but at least I’m true to my word. The Omega Directive hasn’t taken that from me yet.”
Sterling then noticed that Jana, the colonist who had saved them from being mauled to death by alien hounds, had stepped inside the vault. Sterling and Banks turned to greet their savior as she approached with a smile on her face.
“I have a group of people waiting outside the perimeter fence of the base to carry the supplies back to our camp,” said Jana, sifting through a selection of meal trays. “I must admit that you were far more generous in your allocation than I was expecting,” she added.
“I imagine you have as much claim to these supplies as I do,” Sterling replied. Jana frowned, apparently not understanding his meaning. Sterling pointed to the old Fleet-issue survival gear underneath the woman’s furs. “I’m assuming you either took these from a base like this, or inherited them from their original owner?”
Jana looked down at the combat pants, which were patched up in so many places the DPM pattern was barely visible, then met Sterling’s eyes again.
“They belonged to my grandmother,” Jana said, lowering her eyes to the floor. It was obvious to Sterling that simply admitting that fact had been difficult for the colonist. “She was stationed here when the war broke out, but refused to leave when the evacuation was called,” Jana continued. The colonist then picked up the old Fleet pistol that Sterling had been toying with earlier and turned it over in her hands. “My mother was ten at the time,” she continued, tossing the pistol onto the pile. “This was their home. They didn’t want to leave.” Jana looked at Sterling again and he could see bitterness and sadness in her eyes. “Fleet tried to force them onto the transports, but my grandmother ran with my mom and a group of others who felt as she did. Fleet just left them behind.”
Sterling nodded. “I guess you weren’t thrilled to see a Fleet ship land here then?”
“I was more surprised than anything else,” Jana replied. “Fleet forgot about us a long time ago.”
“Not all of us,” Sterling said, picking up the vintage Fleet pistol again. “These old weapons may have fired their last blast, but the fight isn’t over. I still plan to kick the Sa’Nerra out of the Void and all the way back to the shithole planet they came from.”
Jana laughed, which was not the reaction Sterling had expected in response to his audacious pledge. “Well, I hope I’m still around to see it, Captain,” she said, a smile returning to her face.
Sterling felt a neural link form in his mind. He’d grown so used to the absence of neural communication that the sensation took him by surprise. Sterling tapped his neural implant and opened the connection to allow Banks to monitor.
“Captain, we’ve detected a ship entering the atmosphere a few hundred kilometers from our location,” said Lieutenant Razor. “However, at ground level, the metals in these rocks are playing havoc with our scanners. We lost the ship in the noise, but if it’s heading in this direction, we may only have minutes before it arrives.”
Sterling tossed the pistol then clicked his fingers to get Lieutenant Shade’s attention. The weapons officer responded without hesitation, tapping her link to join the neural conference call.
“Lieutenant, get everyone back on-board the ship and prepare to launch,” Sterling said, hustling toward the door. “And arm the weapons and charge the regenerative armor. We’ll be with you shortly.”
Razor uttered a brisk acknowledgement then the link went dead. Sterling turned back to Jana, who was looking understandably puzzled by his actions. As a second-generation survivor, Jana lacked a neural implant.
“There’s another ship incoming,” Sterling explained to the perplexed colonist. “I suggest you get clear of the base until we’re sure it’s not a threat.”
Jana nodded then followed Sterling and Banks out of the vault. Shade and the commandoes had already moved ahead, following the path laid out through the torch-lit corridors. From the darkness of the adjoining sections, Sterling could still make out the silvery eyes and hear the scrape of claws from the beasts that inhabited the underground space. Bursting out into open, Sterling was forced to shield his eyes from the sudden, intense brightness of natural light. The thrum of the Invictus' reactor filled the air with the sound of raw power and energy. Squinting his eyes across to his ship, Sterling peered up at the command level and tapped his neural interface.
“Lieutenant, we’re clear of the underground levels. Tell Ensign Keller to take off as soon as we’re on board,” Sterling said.
“Aye, Captain, we’re all set,” Razor replied.
Sterling then closed the link and turned to Jana. “Anything left in those vaults is yours,” he said, offering the colonist his hand.
“Thank you, Captain Sterling,” Jana replied, shaking his hand firmly. “I hope one day you’ll come back and make good on your promise to kick the Sa’Nerra out of the Void.”
“I will, you can count on it,” Sterling replied. It wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration. To Sterling, winning the war didn’t mean merely stopping the Sa’Nerra from invading the solar system. It meant beating them back to their own corner of the galaxy for good. And, if necessary, wiping them out completely. The War Council and Fleet admirals may not have had held true to his personal definition of success. However, to Sterling victory could never be claimed until the Sa’Nerra had been crushed and put in their place.
“You’re not going anywhere!”
T
he shout came out of nowhere and took Sterling by surprise. He spun around to see Marshall Ed Masterson standing on the flat roof above the entrance to the lower levels. In his hands was an older model Fleet plasma rifle and he was aiming it directly at Sterling’s chest.
Chapter 10
Judgement time
Sterling peered up at the Marshall, at first unsure whether his eyes were playing tricks on him. The last time he’d seen the man, the Marshall’s crippled ship was spiraling out of control into the atmosphere of the planet. Yet here the old lawman was, still looking remarkably alive. However, despite Masterson’s miraculous escape, Sterling could see that the older man was badly injured. His face was cut and blooded and his clothes were scorched and torn.
Moments later, more armed men and women scurried out across the rooftops and from the overgrown flora that had grown up inside the base over the decades. Sterling watched as the Marshall lowered himself to a sitting position with his legs dangling over the side of the building, wincing in pain as he did so.
“My guess is that you’re probably wondering how I’m still alive, Captain,” the Marshall said, perceptively.
“It had crossed my mind,” Sterling replied. He was eager to get on with his mission, but at the same time curious to know how the lawman had escaped his fiery fate.
“That old gen-one destroyer wasn’t the only ship I commandeered over the years,” the Marshall replied, pulling a bent cigar from his jacket pocket and popping it into his mouth. “Sa’Nerran combat shuttles are a pig to fly, but they’re tough as old boots.” The Marshall lit the cigar from a lighter that had also been in his jacket pocket. The tip of the cigar burned brightly then a dark plume billowed out of the lawman’s mouth, like the smoke from the factories on the horizon.
