Guns of the Valpian

by Anthony James

  McLeod said something nonsensical, but he stooped to collect the pack anyway. “Byers?” he said at last.

  “Gone,” snapped Duggan. “She saved us.”

  “We won?”

  “No, we damn well haven’t won,” said Duggan, setting off and dragging the soldier by one arm. “The Zansturm is still out there.”

  “Shit.”

  The urgency was driven home before they’d taken a dozen steps. The hangar bay was suddenly illuminated in a light which seemed as intense as that from the hottest of suns. The image from the helmet sensor fizzed and spluttered in distress. There was no sound, yet Duggan’s earpiece shrieked like it was overloaded.

  Duggan ran. There were members of his squad positioned defensively inside the room beyond the hangar. They carried rifles or repeaters and kept a watchful eye on the remnants of the enemy shuttle. Duggan ignored them and kept going.

  “Sergeant Red-Gulos, this is Duggan,” he said while he ran. “Can you provide an update on our situation?”

  “Power is restored throughout the vessel. I have handed over responsibility for troop organisation to Corporal Gax. I am on my way to the bridge.”

  The Ghast had done exactly what Duggan wanted. “Excellent. I’m coming there myself. The Zansturm has fired upon us.”

  The corridors seemed longer on the return journey and it felt to Duggan as if he were experiencing a nightmare where his best efforts to make headway were ineffective, like thick mud clung to his arms and legs. His mind worked at double-speed, adding to the frustration, since it evaluated each possibility a dozen times yet without the ability to act upon his decisions.

  Hanging above everything was the knowledge that the Valpian’s shields were already heavily depleted, whilst the Zansturm had only been three hundred thousand kilometres away. That wasn’t much over two minutes travel time for the battleship to reach them – and far less for its weapons.

  In spite of the illusion he was travelling at a crawl, Duggan managed to overhaul Red-Gulos a few yards from the bridge. Even if the Ghasts were big, they were clumsy runners and Duggan sprinted up the few steps and jumped into his seat. The two remaining members of his crew piled in behind him.

  “We’re moving at more than half speed,” said Duggan in surprise. “The Valpian’s engines must have resumed where they left off from before the Antrajis froze us in place.”

  He increased their speed to maximum. The tactical display showed the direction of the Zansturm’s approach and Duggan adjusted the cruiser’s course to ensure the distance between the two vessels remained as large as possible.

  “More missiles,” said McLeod.

  The second wave of plasma warheads crashed into the Valpian’s shields.

  “We can’t take many more like that,” said Duggan. “The shield gauge hasn’t recovered from the last time.”

  “They’ve launched a third wave, sir.”

  “I’m activating the fission engines. We’re going somewhere that isn’t here.”

  “We should be away before the third wave reaches us,” said McLeod.

  “The Excoliar isn’t destroyed,” said Red-Gulos.

  A chill ran through Duggan. “What do you mean it isn’t destroyed?”

  “I have located it on the fars. It is close to the surface of the gas giant, almost one million kilometres from us. It is definitely intact.”

  Duggan set the lightspeed sequence away and a number started its countdown. “What readings are you getting from the Excoliar? We should be safe at a million klicks.”

  “Its engine output is predictably huge and it is currently focused on providing thrust to bring the vessel away from the planet.”

  “Have they seen us?” Duggan knew the answer.

  “By their heading, they know we’re here. Their speed is approximately two thousand kilometres per second.”

  Duggan tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “We’re quicker than they are.”

  “There is a power surge from both the front and rear spheres,” said Red-Gulos. “They have vanished.”

  This was something Duggan had witnessed before from the Dreamer mothership and he’d hoped never to see it again. “Check again!” he said with urgency.

  “The Excoliar is now only two hundred thousand kilometres distant,” said the Ghast, betraying the faintest surprise.

  Duggan fired every available missile from the Valpian’s launchers. He didn’t know if they’d have any effect on the Neutraliser but he had to try.

  “What’s the range on its lockdown?” asked McLeod.

  “I have no idea,” Duggan replied. “Less than two hundred thousand klicks from the looks of it.”

  “There is a second power surge from the Excoliar,” said Red-Gulos.

  “That’s us done,” said McLeod.

  The enemy Neutraliser completed a second short-range jump towards the Valpian. By an amount of time too small to easily measure, it was too late. The cruiser’s fission drive activated and the warship vanished, leaving the Excoliar and the Zansturm behind.

  “Close,” said Duggan. He unlatched his helmet and put it under his seat. The cold air on the bridge struck his skin like a welcome shock.

  “Is it always this way?” asked Red-Gulos.

  Duggan laughed. “Not always. More often than I would like.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Nowhere in particular. We’ll find out where Lieutenant Chainer and the others have gone to once I’ve confirmed the Valpian is secure. I’ll change course when we’re ready.”

  He didn’t need to make use of the internal comms. Corporal Gax appeared at the door to the bridge, his suit helmet in one hand.

  “The enemy soldiers did not survive the three explosions,” he said. “There are no hostile forces on the Valpian.”

  “What of our men and women?”

  “Five became unconscious through oxygen starvation. Corporal Weiss has seen to them and they will recover quickly.”

  “Only one loss,” said Duggan.

  “One is too many,” said Gax.

  “Always. We are here because of her actions.”

  Gax nodded his head and turned to leave. He stopped himself. “I have closed the outer hangar bay door. There was a control panel near to it.”

  “Thank you,” said Duggan. For some reason it seemed important – as if a loose end had finally been tied up. “Keep me updated.”

  When Gax was gone, Duggan asked to see the recent sensor recordings. The Valpian’s front arrays had been pointing towards the Antrajis station when he issued the self-destruct command to the Crimson’s mainframe.

  Red-Gulos displayed the video on the main screen and the three of them watched in silence. For a time, there was no change – the orbital appeared motionless whilst the gas giant in the background slowly rotated. The damage to the space station’s central hangar doors was clear and the burned metal slowly cooled. Inside, the Crimson waited, sitting on its twisted landing gear. The missile craters were easily seen. The longer he watched, the greater was Duggan’s sorrow. He felt as if he’d somehow betrayed the warship, even though he knew the idea was nonsense. The Crimson was a tool of war and he’d used it as best he could. The thought didn’t make him feel any better.

  Shortly after, another sensor showed the arrival of the Excoliar and then everything went blank.

  “Show me the resumption,” said Duggan.

  When the recording started again, the view was a different one. The gas giant was where it had been, but now the Antrajis was gone, torn into a million pieces that scattered across the sky. Much of the wreckage glowed white-hot and, where the pieces travelled quickly enough, they left fading lines in their wake to describe the course they had taken.

  At first, the Excoliar looked unaffected. Then, several huge pieces of burning debris struck the vessel. They travelled at such speed they sent the Neutraliser spinning towards the planet below.

  “Their shield didn’t work?” asked McLeod.

  “T
he Crimson’s nukes would have shut it down,” said Duggan. “That and probably several others of their major systems.”

  “They know what it feels like.”

  “It didn’t destroy them.”

  “I’ll bet they took a lot of damage,” said McLeod enthusiastically. “Look at the size of those pieces they got hit by!”

  “I’d rather not see it again. Not without a greater knowledge of its weaknesses.”

  “Do we have a copy of the data we stole from the hub planet?” asked Red-Gulos.

  “No, Sergeant. It’s gone, along with our only Planet Breaker. In its place, we have something of potentially far greater value.” Duggan leaned forward and tapped the console. “All that remains is for us to rescue the missing crew and to figure out a way to return to Confederation Space.”

  The words were easily spoken, but Duggan wasn’t foolish enough to think the result would be easily won.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “They’ve been taken to this planet here,” said Duggan, pointing to a complex chart he called up on the main display. “The Dreamers call it Invarol.”

  It had taken him an hour to extract the map data from the Valpian’s memory banks and he believed it showed the enemy’s significant holdings in this particular sector. Mostly there were planets, not all of which he believed were populated. There were bases, space stations and mobile shipyards amongst others. It would have Fleet Admiral Teron apoplectic when he saw the strength of their foes.

  “Anywhere specific?” asked McLeod. “An entire planet is a lot to search for three people.”

  “Very well observed,” said Duggan wryly. “Fortunately, Lieutenant Chainer mentioned the name of a military base, which is listed in the Valpian’s arrays. Their captors were evidently not too concerned about a possible rescue.”

  “Do we have to watch the Lieutenant’s video message again, sir?” joked McLeod. “There’re only twenty hours remaining until we get to this planet.”

  “I think he was trying to provide as much information as possible, soldier. Perhaps he didn’t know we’d be under so much pressure when we received it.”

  “What are we going to find on Invarol?”

  “I have no idea,” Duggan confessed. “There’s more unencrypted chart data in the Valpian’s memory arrays, but I lack the knowledge to organise it in the time we have available. Commander McGlashan is good at this sort of thing. Otherwise, the Space Corps has hundreds of personnel who’ll be able to look at it once we land.”

  “We will only have one chance,” said Red-Gulos. “After that, our surprise will be gone.”

  “I know. I feel naked without the stealth modules. They are both a crutch and a game-changer. I’d give anything to have them installed on the Valpian. As it is, there’re are plenty of things I still don’t know about this cruiser. The enemy’s eagerness to recover, rather than destroy it, makes me exceptionally curious.”

  While he talked, he stared at his heavily-bandaged hand. Weiss had injected it with something to restore the dead tissue and she’d used a brutal device to debride the outer layers of dead, cold-blackened skin. The treatment was unpleasant and high doses of painkillers had been necessary to ensure the pain was no worse than a moderate discomfort. It would get better in time, though the colour of the new skin wouldn’t match that on his other hand for a good number of months. For the moment, he could use the hand well enough to operate the spaceship. When it came down to it, there wasn’t really an alternative.

  “Does this mean we’re going to come out punching?” asked McLeod.

  “We’ll have to.”

  Red-Gulos said something, which the language modules interpreted as a question about a hippopotamus in the vicinity. Duggan scratched at his stubble in puzzlement before he understood.

  “What elephant in the room?” he asked.

  “The battleship Zansturm,” said the Ghast. “It has a habit of arriving when we do not wish to see it. What if her captain guesses where we will go? What if he transmits that information ahead and we find others waiting for us?”

  “We’ve come this far. It’s an acceptable risk in the circumstances. The journey is only twenty hours, so it may be the enemy are incapable of getting reinforcements to Invarol before we get there. They have plenty of ships, but a lot of territory to cover. They can’t be everywhere at once.”

  “Which leaves only the Zansturm.”

  “They’re no quicker than we are on gravity drives. They may be no quicker on fission engines. If we assume their captain needed some time to collate information, plus some additional time to connect the dots, it may be that we have a head start.”

  “We get there, kick the shit out of the alien scumbags and then off we go to the wormhole. Easy,” said McLeod.

  Duggan studied the soldier’s face and saw that he genuinely believed it would be as straightforward as he described. “I have to admire your optimism,” he said.

  “It’s served me well, sir.”

  There were times when a direct approach was best and Duggan was already convinced this was to be one of them. With things more or less under control on the bridge, he called a meeting with the soldiers. They were as laconic as usual, which he took to be a good sign. Certainly, they looked as up for the fight as ever.

  “We’ve got one last place to go,” he told them. “The Crimson’s crew have been taken to a military facility on a nearby planet. I need them on the bridge if we’re to have any hope of getting through the wormhole again. Even if that wasn’t the case, I don’t abandon anyone.”

  “A bit more shooting and then back home? Sounds good,” said Kidd.

  “I somehow doubt it’ll be that easy,” said Duggan. “The Valpian might not have the capability to make it through the Blackstar.”

  “Anyone can see it’s a new ship, sir,” said Hendrix.

  Duggan smiled. “I didn’t want you getting your hopes up prematurely. If this ship is designed for the transit, I have no doubt my crew will be able to get us through.”

  Afterwards, he said a few words for Byers and hoped the others would be uplifted by her sacrifice rather than becoming melancholy at her death.

  When he was done, he set off to find the one person whose absence was easily noticed. He found Lieutenant Ortiz alone in one of the officer’s rooms. She was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn up to her chest. She had her spacesuit on, with the helmet placed on the floor. Her dark eyes stared into nothingness for a few moments before she looked across at Duggan. There was hardly any recognition.

  “Jess?” he asked.

  “Hello, sir,” she said with a half-smile.

  “We’ll be going home soon,” he said.

  “Will we? That would be nice.”

  “You’ve just got to hold it together for a few more days,” he said. “The Valpian’s fast – real fast. We’ll get you fixed up again.”

  Corporal Weiss entered the room. “I tried to have a word with you after the meeting, sir,” she said. “You left before I could catch you.”

  “Is it about Lieutenant Ortiz?” He’d stripped her rank temporarily but it was hard to refer to her as simply Ortiz.

  “Yes, sir. I wanted to let you know I’ve relieved her of all duties.”

  “I understand.”

  Ortiz had lost interest in the conversation and she closed her eyes. Duggan led Weiss away.

  “Will she get better? If we get her to a base hospital, I mean.”

  Weiss looked upset. “She’s getting worse. The specialists can do wonderful things, but I don’t know if they can bring her back from this.”

  “They had damn well better bring her back,” said Duggan. “Thank you, Corporal. Keep an eye on her and let me know if she deteriorates.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The sight of Ortiz reduced to the state she was in left Duggan in a foul mood. This mission through the Helius Blackstar had been one of incredible highs and indescribable lows. He wondered if Admiral Teron had any idea what he was goi
ng to put everyone through when he conceived the mission.

  Of course he knew and I’ll bet he hates himself for it, he thought. Teron was a man who shared in the pain every time he sent someone out to fight. It had taken a while for Duggan to realise it.

  He reached the bridge and took his seat. Red-Gulos was nowhere to be seen, though McLeod was at his console.

  “Made me feel like a real Space Corps captain for a few minutes there, sir. Being all alone on the bridge. The sergeant said he wanted a couple of hours rest before we arrive. He mentioned something about needing a lot of energy to fire a repeater.”

  “I need to set up a rota,” said Duggan. A Space Corps warship did the administration stuff automatically. The Valpian had no such facility Duggan was aware of.

  “Not much time left now, sir. We’ll be home before you know it.”

  “I’ve heard that one before.”

  The remaining hours passed quickly. Duggan didn’t bother to draft in a replacement for Byers – there wasn’t the time to train anyone and uncertain hands just slowed things down. He allocated himself five hours for sleep and managed to doze for about half of that. His body was still awash with miraculous cures and stimulants administered by his suit and Corporal Weiss, which made sleep difficult even though his body quite obviously required it. His hand hurt and his forearm ached. In a way, he was grateful for the distraction. The mission was coming to a head and he didn’t want to dwell on his worries.

  It had taken him long enough to realise he had feelings for Lucy McGlashan and he didn’t want to lose an opportunity to change his life and his future by letting her die on an enemy facility. He didn’t want to die either, for that matter. The only acceptable outcome from here was to get everyone home without further casualties. It was a long shot and he knew it.

  A few hours before their estimated arrival at Invarol, the under-strength crew of three took their posts with the intention of remaining there until they entered local space. Without advance intel, there was little planning to be done and they did their best to learn more about the operation of the Valpian. There was no instruction manual and there were some things it was impossible to figure out without formal training – or something to target and shoot at. Duggan noticed Red-Gulos getting frustrated.