Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles)

by Ervin II, Terry W.

  She reached into a thigh pocket. “Before you post yourself outside,” she said, tossing a slim box to Watts, “a CNS modulator.” She followed with a small baton. “This will attune it to his nervous system. Just follow the instructions.”

  Lori Watts went right to work. The oblong, leaf-shaped device felt smooth to the skin. Watts slid the CNS modulator inside my uniform collar, and affixed it just below the neck. Its cool touch extended halfway down my spine. “It’ll hurt when it gets peeled off,” Lori said.

  “Good to know,” I said, watching Club at the screens.

  Club pointed. “You, Michael Watts. Sit and monitor those two screens. Let me know immediately, yell, in fact, if you see any non-human.” Michael hopped to it.

  “Instructor Watts, as soon as you’re finished, assist me. Chief Brold says you’re familiar with the system.” She might’ve been skeptical, but the chief’s word squelched question.

  “Okay, Keesay,” said Watts. “If you notice a sharp pain along your spine, described as being similar to burning needles, remove the device immediately.”

  “How?”

  She took my right hand and directed it over my shoulder. “Tug here. Pinch for three seconds and it will release. Painful, like I said.”

  “Understood. I’ve experienced Stegmar Mantis sounding. Anything that’ll help.” I carefully fitted my riot helmet before dropping the visor and testing my com-set. I grabbed my satchel of ammo and my shotgun. “Specialist Club. I’m going to retrieve a riot shield and equipment from my cart down the hall.”

  She nodded. “I saw it. You’ll need the stuff. Thirty seconds.”

  “Acknowledged.” I ran, and retrieved my collapsed shield, slid it over my left shoulder, slid a few more shells in my pockets, and grabbed my plasticized breast, arm and leg armor. Probably useless against Crax caustic rounds, but maybe not against the Stegmar Mantis weaponry.

  “Keesay,” called Club. “All clear. They haven’t boarded yet. Suit up.”

  I needed access to my coverall pockets, so I unbuttoned and strapped the body plates under my vest and uniform. It was a snug fit. Never can have too much, I thought, if it doesn’t hinder mobility. I strapped on the shin, calf and thigh shields. Thunk! Something stuck the hull. I strapped on the right forearm plating and set the rest aside. I adjusted my com-set to prioritize, Command primary and Security secondary frequency.

  “...losing command contr...bot attached.” It sounded like Gudkov. “Other...imity. Det...cutti...arm... Losi...deto...” Two blasts reverberated near the hull.

  The door opened behind me. “They’re jamming all frequencies. Our system upgrade was supposed to handle it.” Club worked frantically. “Cameras are still up. Mer insisted on running lines. No audio. No send and receive.”

  “The marines’ equipment should be.” I switched to their frequency exclusively. “I’m receiving Corporal Smith.”

  “In here, Keesay.” I ran to Club and pulled my headset. She took it. “Club, Alpha Alpha Mars, breaching pod aft destroyed. Ventral pod knocked away, damaged but maneuvering to re-attach. Portside forward pod attached, just aft of engineering.” She examined her monitors. “Squad 2, 3, 8 to forward engineering. Squad 1, 5, 9 to shuttle bay.”

  I unclipped my com-set and attached it to Club as she continued to survey the situation. Watts assisted. Fighting broke out near engineering. DeLark led two dozen colonists against a wave of Stegmar Mantis. The 30-inch high insectoid aliens advanced at a heavy cost.

  Then a large reptilian biped leapt through the hull breach. It was mottled green and resembled a prehistoric predator, except it carried a halberd with nasty hooked blades. A second and third followed. “Gar-Crax trio with shields,” called Club, “accompanying Stegmar boarders near forward engineering.” The Gar-Crax, like the Stegmar, carried equipment on belts, harnesses, and bandoleers. The Crax leveled their halberds and sprayed the defenders. The assault weapons’ return fire failed to penetrate the shields. The defenders fell screaming beneath the caustic pellet barrage.

  “Squad 4 and 6 fall back.” Club tapped and a bulkhead dropped, providing temporary respite. “Smith, get heavy-duty lasers to forward engineering.”

  The Crax halberds sliced through the door. “Estimate seventy Stegmar, ten Bulldog Beetles, supported by three Gar-Crax.” Thunk! “Pod reattach aft of shuttle bay.”

  “Specialist Club,” said Watts. “Two Primus-launched pods on approach. Gunboats moving to intercept Primus escort. Several flotillas of pods approaching dock.”

  “Acknowledged.” She dropped another door to shield DeLark and his half dozen survivors. “Stegmar scattering into groups of five.” The ship lurched. “Captain’s making evasive maneuvers.”

  “She just fired rear batteries. Two missiles,” called Watts. “Gunboats closing on Primus frigate, opening fire.” The Kalavar shuddered. “Primus firing on us. I think the main battery is out. Primary engine failing.”

  Michael was huddled in the corner. “Skids!” I ordered. “Remember what I said?” He nodded. “Specialist Club directed you to watch those two monitors. Perform your duty.”

  He blushed and pulled himself to his feet. “Sorry.”

  Chief Brold led a counter assault near engineering. Hefting a large shielding steel hatch and carrying a long pole, he charged ahead. Behind him, two marines fired heavy laser carbines wherever they found an opening.

  “The chief’s got his Umbelgarri stabbing pike,” said Club. “Goes with the armor.”

  “Looks like a medieval knight,” said Watts.

  “More like a Crax nightmare,” I said, before another monitor picked up a sprinting man in gray-green coveralls. “Here comes Haxon.” He pulled up outside Security, almost losing his Marine helmet. “All clear.”

  Club keyed the door open while reporting, “All weapons out. Engines out. Forward momentum and thrusters only. Two more pods on approach. Primus escort light damage. Calling Thunder destroyed. Thunder Child pressing attack. Shuttle bay under attack. Advance on forward engineering repulsed. Stegmar Mantis raiding parties on forward decks 3, 5 and 11.”

  “Keesay,” said Haxon, catching his breath. “We’re to get those two to the shuttle bay. Reinforcements have been sent to hold the bay. We’ve two shuttles manned and ready for launch.”

  “What? With that Primus escort out there?”

  “Main engine’s dead, even if we repel this wave. Captain’s orders. Two yachts for decoys and something else planned.”

  “Understood.” I checked my shotgun and gear.

  Haxon produced three disposable injection packets. “To neutralize Stegmar Mantis toxins.” He injected me first, Lori Watts second. He carefully administered Michael a half dose. “There. Chief said not to put our eggs in one basket. You take one. I’ll escort the other.”

  “Did you catch that, Club?” I asked.

  She held up a finger. “Thrusters, ten percent burn. Not fast enough for them to target, but get the nose lined up with the frigate.” She spun. “I got it, Keesay. Orders confirmed. If you get cut off or the shuttle bay falls, Plan B, go for the cargo bay. McAllister and Gudkov are prepping the bay for emergency decompression. The exploration shuttle has a cascading engine cycling.”

  My eyes locked with Lori’s. She embraced her son tighter. “Skids, you’re with me.”

  She unclipped the Crax screen.

  “No.” I shoved it back. “You can utilize it best.” I unfolded my riot shield. “He’ll carry this.”

  “You sure?” asked Haxon.

  I removed Haxon’s helmet and adjusted the straps. “You’re with intelligence.”

  “What?” asked Haxon. He donned his helmet and looked away. “Specialist, time to move.”

  “Right.” I eyed Watts and slipped on my helmet. “Same R-Tech rigging. What sec-spec wouldn’t know how to adjust it? You’ll need the screen.” I’d gotten used to checking with my com-set’s ocular but Club needed it to relay information. “How’s it look, Club?”

  “They’re shoo
ting out cameras wherever they spot them. Bugs are crawling everywhere. Mainly in twos and threes.”

  “Keesay, you go portside route,” said Haxon. “We’ll go aft.”

  “Understood.” I tugged Skids away from his mother. “Michael! Time to move.”

  “Kra’s right.” She grabbed her laser carbine and checked her shield. “I love you, Little Max.”

  I pulled my stun baton, handed it to him with the shield. “I’ll need both hands for my shotgun. Be careful, that tip will send a charge through anything you touch, including me or yourself.” I showed him how to telescope the baton in and out. “Arm it only when you intend to use it.” I adjusted the shield straps. “Grip it here. Cradle behind it like this. Understood?” He didn’t respond. “Understood?”

  “I want to go with Mom!” Tears welled in his eyes. His mother was little better off.

  I eyed Haxon, then put my hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Duty, remember? Do what I do. Do what I say, when I say. Now form up!” He stood straight. “We’ll make it,” I said to Lori. “Be sure you do.”

  “Get a move on!” ordered Club.

  “Always the charmer.” I winked and shot a glance to her heavy duty laser. “Happy hunting.”

  “Thanks, Relic.” She winked back. “All clear.” The door slid open. “Now, MOVE OUT!”

  The shouted order jarred Watts and her son into action. Lori and Haxon went right. I stepped out and pulled Skids left. “Trot.”

  We made it to the first intersection. He dropped my shield and stopped. I swung back and pushed him from behind through the intersection. Kicked the shield to him. “Skids, I have my orders. I’ll drag, or carry you.”

  In the distance I heard an eerie sound. It wasn’t as bad as the simulation. “Those are Stegmar Mantis.” It got Skids’ attention. He picked up the shield and clutched the baton. “Skids, I’m scared, too. If we weren’t, we’d be foolish. This way. Ignore the sound. Stay right behind me and keep your eyes open.”

  “Understood, Specialist,” he said through gritted teeth.

  We made it to an access ladder. I listened. Stegmar predatory sounding, but distant. Shotgun ready, I looked up and down. “Let’s go.” He nodded. I descended first. Skids followed. Two decks down the sounding grew. “I stuck my head out. “Quick,” I whispered. The volume increased from below. Small arms fire blended with yells and screams.

  I increased the pace, checking occasionally over my shoulder. We came to an intersection and found a passenger, partially dismembered. “Don’t look, Skids.” Fallen next to him was the old dog trainer, still clutching his assault rifle. Body swollen with venom. I felt for a pulse. None.

  “Specialist, look,” Skids said. A lacerated bulldog whimpered twenty feet away. A foreleg dangled as it hobbled toward its fallen master. Green blood was splattered across the canine’s face and jaws. Three large welts lined its back.

  The dog ignored us in its trek. I led Skids wide around. “Beetle toxin. It wants to die with its master, in peace.” I urged Skids along, trotting past two fallen Stegmar. One bullet ridden, the other mauled. “Old man and his dog cleared the way.”

  We made it to the next access ladder. Hearing nothing, I looked down just as a Stegmar leapt onto the ladder two decks below. Blam! No way I missed. I pumped a fresh round into the chamber and I grabbed Skids. “Come on.” A sounding stirred from behind. We turned at an intersection before they emerged from the tube. The sounding tore at Skid’s nerves but my modulator held it at bay. I tossed Skids over my shoulder and ran to an elevator around the next turn. I flopped him down, stood ready, and tapped the call button.

  A five-second eternity passed before the elevator arrived, empty. “This won’t lead to the shuttle bay, but to an observation balcony. There’s an access ladder down. Can you climb?”

  The elevator door blocked the sounding. Skids nodded.

  “You’re a tough kid.”

  He looked down. “I wet my pants.”

  “Marines have been known to do that.”

  “Really?”

  “Seen it in simulations,” I lied.

  “Did you?”

  “Naww, I’m a Relic, remember?” He smiled. “Get ready!” I said.

  The door slid open. I knelt, peeked out. “Set the elevator for four-minute delay service. I don’t hear them so they’re not climbing down.” I checked again. “Come on, the balcony.”

  A cacophony of sounding, cracking MP fire, and bursts of automatic gunfire increased as we approached the bay opening. I spotted the bodies of two passengers. One lay prone, acid having eaten through his abdomen. The other, doubled-over the railing, was covered with needles from Stegmar guns.

  I crept forward to survey, using the corpse on the railing for cover. Smith and Muller were in a firefight with two dozen Stegmar and a Gar-Crax. Less than twenty yards away three passengers inexpertly covered their flank. Haxon and Watts were pinned down behind some crates about thirty yards from the shuttle. Shattered human and alien bodies littered the bay.

  Thunk! A pod. Its impact sounded close.

  I looked again. An energy beam emerged, slowly cutting an arc through the shuttle bay floor. Two of the covering passengers were down with one falling back. I pulled two fragmentation grenades. “Smith, Muller, DOWN!” I hurled the old-style grenades in the path of the Stegmar swarm now hurdling toward Smith. Before they exploded, I threw a stun grenade to suppress the group pinning Haxon and Watts.

  The sounding faltered for a second, but a hail of needles and acid rounds convinced me the bay ladder down was a bad idea. “We’ll go Plan B,” I shouted into the bay.

  I dragged Skids from the balcony. “Skids, I just cleared the way for your mom. Corporal Smith’s down there.” I tugged at his shoulder. “He’ll get her out. We’ll go for the exploration shuttle.” I keyed the balcony’s door closed, and the sounding lost most of its grip on the boy.

  “My mom?” He refocused his thoughts. “Why?”

  I didn’t want to mention that in about 30 seconds there’d be a new boarding party climbing into the bay. Elite forces, as Lori Watts suggested. We picked up the pace and passed the elevator. I didn’t dare risk one again. I raced to recall the ship diagrams. Maintenance accesses had lines running. Some would be grated and some covered, but they ran along decks, not from deck to deck.

  Then I remembered the leaking pipes installed in the colonist area. Mer brought me along to examine the repairs. They ran along a main vertical conduit and passed through the gravity plate. “I have an idea. Quick now.”

  A blast nudged the Kalavar. “What was that?” A larger one rocked the ship.

  “Don’t know, Skids. Maybe the Thunder Child got lucky.” We made it to the center of the ship. “Unlike the tube ladders, this has limited access.” I keyed and spoke my password. “Hope the system’s still up.”

  “Did you almost forget your access code?”

  Thud. I did my best to ignore the fact that another breaching pod just attached. “No, incorporated a required pause for impatient I-Techs like you,” I teased. Despite the situation, Skids cracked a smile.

  The thick titanium alloy access, disguised as any normal door, slid open. I peered in, shotgun ready. The standard three-meter-diameter tube housed hundreds of wires, pipes, and lines, among other things. What remained was a one-meter diameter area with varying degrees of lateral access. “They haven’t made it to this yet. If they do, they could sever a main artery of the Kalavar.” A platform descended. “Hop on, strap in.” I keyed the door closed. “Lift, elevate two meters per second.” I didn’t recall the deck number the water pipes split off, but I knew Mer had marked them with yellow duct tape.

  I pulled my pen flashlight. “See, we follow the line with the yellow tape.” I handed him the flashlight before we reached the orange line. “Hold on.” The platform pivoted 180 degrees as we passed through the gravity plate. We continued up while I settled my stomach.

  Skids slid the stun baton into a pocket. “Where to?”


  “Colonist area. Those are the water lines to the lavatory.” Then, I thought better. “No, the wires running to the recessed surveillance equipment.” But I hadn’t inspected that and didn’t know for sure which cable bundle they were. “Damn, stick to the water line.”

  “There, they go in,” Skids said, pointing.

  “Good work. Lift, slow ascent to one half meter per second…stop ascent.” I collapsed Skid’s shield and unhooked him. “Crawl quickly but quiet. Follow the lines.”

  He slipped the penlight between his teeth and took off like a tunnel rat. Toting my shotgun and equipment proved more difficult. I sheathed my bayonet and still twice I hooked my satchel or sling before catching up with Skids.

  “The sounding noise,” he moaned.

  I listened. That and automatic gunfire. “Can’t be helped. This way.” I led him to a section of temporary ceiling paneling. “Light off.” I pried up a panel with my bayonet to find we were above one of the colonist’s quarters. Nearby, the sounds of desperate fighting raged.

  Skids gritted his teeth. I pulled my bandana and cut small strips and wadded them up. “If we get separated,” I whispered, “make it to the exploration shuttle in the cargo bay. You know where the bay door is?”

  Skids shook, but was coherent. “Yes, Specialist.”

  “Know where the access hatch is?”

  Nervous sweat dripped down his face. “Nne--near the diesel engine work station.”

  “Correct. You’ve been brave. Stuff these in your ears. It’ll help some.” I removed the panel, crawled over and then dropped. I signaled for my shotgun. Then Skids followed.

  “This is Vargus’s room,” he said.

  “We’re near the dining area.” A spray of bullets ripped through the temporary walling. I yanked Skids to the ground. I signaled for him to stay and crawled to the half-drawn curtain. Toward the dining area, about 25 yards away, stood three Gar-Crax, each with a Bulldog Beetle clinging to its shoulder. They were shielding ten Stegmar Mantis forming up for a charge.

  The sounding intensified until it rattled my bones. I looked back to give Michael instructions, but he was curled into a ball, paralyzed. Before the aliens could move, I pulled my last stun grenade and sent it skidding across the floor. Then I stood and emptied my shotgun into the surprised bundle of aliens.