Edge of War (The Eternal Frontier Book 2)

by Anthony J Melchiorri

  Bull saluted and disappeared into the corridor. Tag massaged his temples as he listened to the man’s footsteps fade. When the Montenegro had needed saving, he had barely pulled his ragtag team of Alpha, Sofia, and Coren together in time to stop the Drone-Mechs. It had been challenge enough to learn his crew members’ strengths and overcome the personal conflicts that had cropped up throwing two humans, a half-droid sentient being, and an alien together. Now he had added another five crew members on a mission even more ambiguous than before.

  It couldn’t be any harder than surviving the Forinths and the ice gods, right?

  ***

  Undulating green-and-purple plasma coursed over the bridge’s view screen, and Tag wrapped his fingers tight around his armrests. He let the murmurs of the terminals on the bridge and the creaking of the bulkheads wash over him. His pulse resonated in his ears like war drums beating in preparation for battle, and he reminded himself to take deep, long breaths. Alpha buckled herself into the ops station, and Sofia slumped into the pilot’s seat, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of their entry into normal space and whatever unwelcome surprises that might hold for them.

  “Weapons report,” he said.

  “Point-defense cannons loaded and fully operational,” Coren said as his fingers danced across his terminal. “Pulse cannons at one hundred percent, and Gauss cannon magazines are fully loaded and ready to go.”

  “Shields?”

  “Also one hundred percent, Captain,” Alpha said. “Repair bots are standing by.”

  Tag prayed they wouldn’t need the repair bots, but he couldn’t help thinking about the Drone-Mech fleet that had been after them during their escape from Eta-Five. Any run-in with them would undoubtedly leave the Argo in a state to ensure no repair bot went unemployed. The fleet they had run into last time had wasted no effort in attempting to bring the Argo down. It was startling the sheer power they had brought against Tag’s single research vessel.

  Why were the Argo and its mission so important to the Drone-Mechs? It was one damn ship, hardly worth any strategic or technological value to a species as advanced and powerful as the Drone-Mechs and, he guessed, whoever was controlling them. He wished the Drone-Mechs had at least shared that information with him. If they were going to try to riddle the ship with pulse rounds again, the least they could do was tell him why.

  Tag shook himself out of his dark thoughts. “How about our power plant, Alpha?”

  “Overall, our fusion reactors and power systems are reporting normal function.”

  “When you say ‘overall’ power systems are normal, does that mean there’s something that isn’t?”

  “Yes, Captain, that is an accurate assessment. Although it is such an insignificant variation, any statistical analyses I performed on the matter seemed to indicate informing you of such an anomaly was unnecessary.”

  “Ignore statistical analyses,” Tag said. “I want to know about any and all anomalies.”

  “Any and all. Are you certain?”

  “I’m certain.”

  Sofia raised a brow. “Careful what you wish for, Skipper.”

  Before he could ask why, Alpha began. “In that case, I noticed a slight uptick in heads usage by the crew and biological waste recycling following the consumption of specific prepared meals, including those with high levels of curry.”

  Sofia stifled a laugh, and Coren rolled his single good eye.

  “Also, it would seem the marines express language you have told me is outside the normal constraints. I have asked them to maintain more polite conversations, and they told me to copulate with myself. As you know, that is quite impossible.”

  “All right, Alpha,” Tag said. “That’s the kind of stuff we probably don’t need to know. Let’s focus on the ship. Specifically, power systems. I thought the crew on the Montenegro and our bots took care of everything.”

  “Everything is repaired in accordance with the ship’s schematics, sir,” Alpha said. “But there was a small power sink, almost miniscule enough to be imperceptible, within one of the cargo holds.”

  “Know why?” Tag asked.

  Sofia answered instead. “This ship was almost blown to pieces. We got repairs done in days instead of months. I’m surprised there aren’t worse issues. A little power sink here or there, imperfect wires, and electrical routing are kind of in our cards.”

  “This wouldn’t be an issue with Mechanic engineering,” Coren added, his thin lips curling into a contemptuous smirk.

  “You’re more than welcome to use that Mechanic acumen to fix what we couldn’t before,” Tag said.

  Coren seemed to give the suggestion some thought. “Maybe I will. But I might as well wait until we’re on Eta-Five. No use repairing something that’s just going to get broken when we run into the Drone-Mechs.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The kaleidoscopic blur of hyperspace fizzled into fluid darkness. Metallic groans resonated through the bulkheads, and Tag’s fingers curled around the edges of his armrests as the Argo entered normal space with a slight boom shaking through the ship. The cold threads of anxiety wove their way through his mind and nerves, an uncomfortable manifestation of his darkest expectations.

  “Shields up!” Tag commanded at once, his eyes already searching for the glaring distant flash of grav impellers that might give away a Drone-Mech ship speeding toward them.

  A green shimmer glowed over the main viewscreen as the shields stabilized. A low buzz filled the bridge, and Tag waited for the shriek of alarms and whir of malicious red lights that would announce the Drone-Mechs’ imminent attack. His heart thrashed against his rib cage with the powerful beat of an overloading fusion reactor.

  But no klaxons wailed, and no crimson lights glared. Instead, the viewscreen showed the stark silhouette of a moon before them. Behind it cascaded a field of brilliant pinpricks, each shining speck representing a distant star. The golden fire of Eta, the central star of this system, burned bright eight light-minutes from their port side. Sofia tensed at her controls, taking the Argo through their predetermined trajectory behind the dark side of the moon.

  “Contacts?” Tag asked.

  “Negative, sir,” Alpha reported.

  If Mechanics sweated like humans, Tag guessed he would have seen bullets coursing down Coren’s forehead. Instead, the Mechanic stared intently at his terminal, his fingers hovering above their offensive and counteroffensive weapons commands, ever vigilant.

  Tag punched a button on his terminal. “Bull, you all holding together down there?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Bull’s voice crackled back from the terminal. “Armed and ready to roll.”

  “No contacts sighted,” Tag said. In his head, he added, yet.

  “Copy,” Bull said, sounding almost disappointed.

  “Don’t worry. If we’re not dealing with boarders, I’m sure we’ll keep you busy planetside. Eta-Five isn’t exactly a pleasant stroll in the woods.”

  “Never been in the woods,” Bull said. “Wouldn’t know.”

  The Argo sailed past the moon and toward the familiar icy white atmosphere of Eta-Five. Tag found the sight strangely comforting. At least they were starting their adventures in a place he somewhat knew. The shielded atmospheric anomaly would protect them from prying eyes once they reached the planet, and still, no signs of the Drone-Mechs blipped into existence by lidar or radar. He also wasn’t foolish enough to accept that they were safe. Just because they hadn’t detected Drone-Mechs yet didn’t mean that they weren’t there, lurking nearby, ready to pounce.

  “Alpha, send a courier drone to the Montenegro with our coordinates,” Tag said. “Inform them we haven’t immediately encountered any hostile contacts after a successful normal space reentry. We’ll be landing on Eta-Five shortly and will be out of light-beam and sensor reach soon.”

  “Copy, Captain,” Alpha said, her metallic fingers plying her terminal. “The courier drone has been released.”

  Tag watched the tiny silver drone g
lint across their viewscreen before it accelerated into hyperspace via its miniature T-drive. It disappeared from their radar to begin its eight-day journey back to the Montenegro with its encrypted message.

  “Bull, prepare for atmospheric entry. Make sure everyone is nice and secure in their crash couches. It’s not going to be a smooth ride,” Tag said over the comms.

  “Understood, Captain,” Bull replied.

  The Argo plunged through the stormy clouds swirling above Eta-Five. The viewscreen fizzled and went dark while red lights washed over the deck and alarms screeched in a high-pitched clamor. Tag’s terminal reported system failures all across the board, and Sofia held tight to the controls, her arms trembling as she pulled back. Metal groaned and protested in concert with the roar of the thrusters attempting to control their descent. The cacophony thundered throughout the bridge as if the ship was falling apart until the shaking suddenly settled. A dull-gray light appeared over the viewscreen once again, and all around, Tag saw the icy spires and jagged mountains of Eta-Five covered in a blanket of snow.

  “We’re back,” Tag whispered.

  “Captain?” Alpha said, her hypersensitive auditory sensors picking up his muttering.

  Instead of repeating himself, Tag issued a new command. “Contact the Mechanic outpost in the Forest of Light.”

  Alpha worked at her terminal for a few moments before the viewscreen sparked to life with a new image. A tall Mechanic with a permanent frown sterner than Coren’s appeared. Her golden eyes gazed at Tag with an air of nonchalance, as if escaping the brutal barricade of Drone-Mechs, saving the Montenegro, and making a risky return trip to the planet were of no particular import. The iridescent, almost cloyingly cheerful fluorescent purples, blues, pinks, and greens of the Forest of Light behind the alien contrasted sharply with the Mechanic’s countenance.

  “Commander Tag Brewer,” the Mechanic said in a vaguely feminine monotone voice. “You have returned.”

  “Right you are,” Tag said. “And I come bearing presents. Coren, go ahead.”

  Coren tapped on his terminal. “Bracken, it is good to see you again.”

  “Is that a goddamn smile?” Sofia asked, staring at Coren. “By the gods, the guy’s actually smiling!”

  Any hint of a slight upturn in his lips vanished, and Coren gave her an admonishing look.

  “Good to see you as well,” Bracken continued. “I wasn’t sure you would return. Your odds of survival with your current company were not favorable.” She glanced at Tag.

  Not subtle at all, he thought.

  “Favorable odds or not, we made good on our promise,” Tag said. “We have enough spare parts to fix the Stalwart, according to Coren.”

  Bracken looked to Coren.

  “It’s true,” Coren said.

  “Captain, I’m beginning to sense Bracken is very skeptical of us,” Alpha said with robotic innocence.

  “You’re catching on,” Sofia said with a chuckle.

  “Pardon my cynicism,” Bracken said, “but I don’t make judgments on a single data point. We learned to trust Sofia, but you, Commander Brewer, and the rest of your species remain unknowns.”

  “Maybe this is another positive data point for you,” Tag said with a forced smile. As a scientist, he understood the pragmatic adherence to scientific dogma and scrutiny when it came to good data. It would take far more than returning to Eta-Five with Coren to inspire the Mechanics’ faith. Hopefully, over the next days and weeks of work on the Stalwart, he could do just that.

  The Argo leveled out over an expansive plain of snow where frozen geysers peppered the landscape, and somewhere in the distance a green flash of lightning cut through the leaden sky. He briefly wondered if the storm was rolling toward them. He had had enough of the storms and avalanches that plagued Eta-Five last time, and at least for now, in the Argo, they could escape an ice god attack with a bit more ease than trying to run away on an air car. But the natural planetside threats Eta-Five offered weren’t the worst of his fears.

  “What happened to the Drone-Mechs?” he asked.

  “We shut down all our power facilities, leaving only a minimal sensor array open so as not to attract any attention from them,” Bracken replied, “and the last of their planetside scouts left less than twenty-four hours after you did.”

  “And of course you couldn’t tell when the fleet left,” Tag said as more statement than question.

  Bracken seemed to give an exasperated sigh, as if she were a prodigious child answering an ignorant teacher. “Of course not. The atmospheric anomaly has always blocked both incoming and outgoing sensor and communications attempts.”

  “Figured,” Tag said, biting his tongue so as not to reply with the same irritated manner Mechanics seemed so apt at communicating with.

  Bracken’s expression remained as stonelike as ever. “And though they aren’t here now, that doesn’t mean they won’t be soon.”

  “Which means you’re as anxious as I am to begin repairs on the Stalwart,” Tag said. “Can we start today?”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tag watched the snow and ice rise to meet them. It came at them slowly, steadily. Not like his last time landing on this planet—if he could call it landing.

  “We really have to park this far from the Forest?” Sofia asked, setting the ship down. It crunched into the snow, and its still-hot impellers melted into the white fluff.

  “If those bastards show up, I’m not about to lead them straight to the Forinths or the Mechanics,” Tag said. “Seems like the polite thing to do.”

  “And your concern is appreciated,” Coren said. The engines spooled down, and the Mechanic unbelted his restraints then stood, stretching. “Besides, I could use the hike.”

  “I look forward to witnessing the Forest firsthand,” Alpha said. “Your videos and Sofia’s holofeeds have been educational, but there is much data missing from the biological forms present there.”

  “Everybody’s a critic,” Sofia said. She brushed a hand through her hair then clasped the back of her neck. “But damn, I’m really not looking forward to carrying all that space garbage to the Stalwart crash site.”

  “Nice of you to plan on carrying it,” Tag said. “But I was thinking, if we aren’t about to face any Drone-Mech threats, the marines might want something to do.”

  “Until the ice gods come,” Coren said drily. Tag couldn’t tell whether his remark was morbid sarcasm or certain despair. He decided to ignore the lament.

  “No major life-forms detected within the immediate vicinity,” Alpha added from the ops station, “which suggests the ice gods are not yet present.”

  “Oh, good,” Coren said again with no change in his tone. “I cannot wait for our reunion.”

  “Think that one is still mad about you popping all its eyes?” Sofia asked, giving Coren a playful elbow to his side.

  “Are ice gods known for their forgiveness?” Alpha asked, her silver head tilted. “I cannot imagine any reason they would not retain some anger for what you have done to them.”

  “Exactly,” Tag said. He pictured the ice god’s teeth bearing down on them. “So let’s try not to waste too much time on the surface. Don’t want the ice gods or anyone else finding us out here. Which, just to be safe, Coren, activate that camouflaging tech you made last time we were on Eta-Five. I’d prefer no one knows the Argo is here besides us.”

  “Will do,” Coren said, his slender fingers tapping across his terminal.

  Tag undid his restraints and led the others off the bridge. Their EVA suits rattled and rustled as they prepared themselves for the short journey ahead. This time, Tag was happy to be venturing onto the unforgiving arctic landscape with a crew behind him and a firm destination in mind. Through his wrist terminal, he hailed Bull. “Meet in the cargo hold for immediate departure.”

  “Copy,” Bull replied.

  Tag opened the hatch to the cargo bay. Unlike his last foray on the planet, there were no gaping wounds in the hull, and the ship was fu
ll of enough supplies to keep their crew traveling for decades in case they didn’t reunite with the SRE in the near future. He certainly hoped it didn’t come to that, but there was no way of knowing how long it would take to find the monsters responsible for the nanites and Drone-Mechs, along with completing Captain Weber’s enigmatic mission, whatever that turned out to be.

  Soon the clatter of footsteps announced the entrance of Bull and the rest of the marines. Ammo belts were wrapped around their power armor suits. Heavy rifles and multiple sidearms were secured over their backs and along their legs. Every usable surface contained some strategic piece of equipment to complement the marines’ arsenal. Yellow lights glowed inside each of their helmets, providing a small if distorted glimpse of the humans encased by the formidable gear. If it weren’t for that view of their faces, Tag would have thought they were more machine than Alpha.

  “You took Sofia’s warnings about the ice gods to heart, huh?” Tag remarked to Bull.

  “A good marine doesn’t go into any situation unprepared,” Bull replied. The other four lugged even more weapons onto the air car, and Bull’s eyes traced over Coren. “It might be more than ice gods we face.”

  Coren returned Bull’s suspicious glance as he helped Sofia load a crate full of repair materials for the Stalwart onto the air car. Tag understood Coren’s skepticism, but he also couldn’t help recalling Kaufman’s body and how he had failed to save her life. The Argo’s previous marine detachment had been decimated by just a few Drone-Mechs. Even though weeks had passed, the time hadn’t seemed to slow the recurring memories that would awaken at the slightest provocation. Images of the crew being annihilated under a storm of pulsefire and acrid smoke haunted Tag’s waking hours. In sleep, it was even worse. Knowing Bull and the other marines were at least a little better prepared in equipment and intel provided Tag some temporary comfort.

  “I trust your judgment,” Tag said to the marine, hoping to win some favor.