Intrinsic: Book One of the Terran Cycle

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  He stepped forward aiming both weapons at each invader. If their biological structure was as similar to humans as he suspected, the first shot would be instant death. He unleashed the charged photon particle into the padding at the back of the neck where the helmet left them exposed. He was only vaguely aware of the head snapping forward as the vertebrae disintegrated. He was already aiming at the target further away. The shot impacted him under the arm, eviscerating his chest cavity.

  Before he even crumpled to the floor, Roland was sliding across the gap between him and the next invader. The alien turned on him but was too late to act with such a long weapon. At the last second the alien decided to attack Roland with the butt of the rifle. That was expected. Having already holstered his left pistol he intercepted the butt and reversed the action, forcing it into the visor. With the intruder’s head lifted, it was a simple matter of slipping the LX under the helmet ridge and pulling the trigger. At this range the charged particle left through the top of the helmet, having melted the head within.

  The last two targets were behind the dead alien he was using as a shield. Darting his hand out to the right he shot the first one square in the visor. It didn’t penetrate, but it knocked him on his ass. That gave him enough time to scope out the last target in his peripheral vision. He felt the shudder as the propped up body took several hits from what might well have been a friend, if aliens have friends. Roland pulled down the top half of the limp body and shot the alien between every gap he could see in the armour. After various body parts ejected themselves the main body slumped to the floor. Roland couldn’t help but smile at his work; despite the armour they were just as fragile as humans.

  The one he hit square in the visor was beginning to regain his senses. Just as he got to his knees Roland pushed his hand onto the helmet exposing the back of the neck. Retrieving the knife from the side of his vest, he pushed down separating the spinal cord. A quick death. Most people thought he was sadistic in the way he went about his work, just because he enjoyed it. Truth was, he just loved a good fight. Why kill a man in an hour when you can kill him in a second?

  The other landing craft had moved further into the hangar now with more following. He saw more intruders dropping from the ships followed by a staccato of gun fire. He needed to get to the bridge.

  The space between him and the executive lift had become a warzone. At least a dozen men and women had been solidified in the green goo. He checked behind him only to see his intended eggheads plastered to the side of the shuttle. One of them was waving a hand through the gap in the gel.

  Moving from cover to cover he made his way over to the lift unseen. The hand reader on the wall accepted his print and allowed him access. The whir of the doors masked the sound of the coming attack. The black clad invader buried all of its force into Roland’s back, pushing them both into the lift. Amid the tussle he heard the LX fall to the floor at his feet; turning his head to see his attacker had been a stupid move. His mistake cost him an armoured head butt across his right eye. The blood partially blinded him, but mostly it just irritated the crap out of him.

  Four strikes to his abdomen and torso knocked Roland to the floor. The blows told him one thing though; they were no stronger than the average human. He felt a hand grip the back of his vest, time to put their bone structure to the test. Much like the arm, the knee joint is designed to move one way and one way only: Roland’s favourite fact about the body. While crouched on the floor he used the placement of his body to hide his right hand moving round the attacker’s right heel. Before the invader could pull him up for a final beating, he pushed all his weight through his right shoulder and into the alien knee cap. He felt the bones give way under his weight. Roland decided the helmets must be sound proof since he didn’t hear the inevitable scream.

  The alien collapsed to the floor falling against the door, gripping his broken leg. Making sure the fight had ended; Roland leaned over and snapped his neck. With that the lift doors parted and the limp corpse dropped onto the command centre floor. Wiping the blood from his eye he saw eleven guns pointed at him with Captain Fey in the middle.

  He imagined he was quite the sight with blood and ash smeared on his face, not to mention the small arsenal he was wearing.

  “I guess it’s a party now, huh?” He prized himself on always knowing what to say in a tense moment. With the captain lowering her weapon the crew followed her example. She stormed over to the dead body on her bridge.

  “Why have they attacked us?” She tapped its helmet with her foot. It hadn’t escaped him that she skipped the part about them being alien.

  “We didn’t exactly stop to chit chat, Captain. And why haven’t the gun batteries fired back?” Roland dragged the body into the lift and dumped it in a heap.

  “The targeting system can’t locate them.” The captain hadn’t taken her eyes off the corpse.

  “What do you mean, it can’t locate them? It’s the massive ship to port!” He hoped they didn’t notice him point to starboard.

  “Every time we lock on, the targeting system goes haywire and fires wild.” The captain was pacing between the nervous crew.

  “They’re going to find a way in here. Taking the bridge will be their first objective.” He removed the sticky mine from his vest and stuck it to the inside of the lift wall with the corpse. “I suggest we reach the armoury and fortify it. We can regroup with stragglers there and plan our next move.”

  A young looking cadet turned from her monitor, “The lift terminal is being hacked Captain, do you want me to shut down power?” Roland didn’t give her time to answer.

  “Leave it, power’s about to go out anyway.” The captain shot him a curious look but he ignored her, there was a boom coming. He bent over the nearest monitor bringing up the cam feed from outside the bridge doors.

  The room shook with a distant explosion originating from the lift shaft. He couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face at the idea of the intruders cramming into the lift before oblivion took them.

  With everyone focusing on the smoke filtering through the lift door, Roland continued his assessment of the route to the armoury.

  “It looks clear at the moment but we’re gonna need to move fast, like right now.” He looked to the captain, knowing the others wouldn’t move without her precious orders. What he wouldn’t give for the good old days. He lived his life going from place to place between missions, resources and wealth taken care of by the UDC. He never even saw the man who gave him his mission parameters. He picked up his package from the designated drop-point and assessed the data at a secure location, of his choosing. Now he had a rank and very clear superiors. At least they made him a commander, if he had been reduced to cadet or even lieutenant he would have moved into the Hammer’s brig on his first day.

  The captain shared a look with him and nodded with her trust in his assessment. “Crash dump everything, I don’t want them getting a single shred of information off my ship. Send a ship-wide message; everyone is to head straight to the armoury.” As she spoke two cadets quickly went to work on one of the central standing monitors. Moments later Roland and everyone else on the ship received a message on their wrist touch pad.

  “We need your authorisation code, Captain.” They were all sweating with nervous looks; they weren’t trained for this kind of action. They had no doubt run through identical scenarios to this one, but not against such superior technology and firepower. Captain Fey tapped her unique code onto the touch glass. Every monitor on the bridge suddenly went dark as the internal magnets were activated, wiping all the hard drives of their data.

  “Take point, Commander North.”

  Lead? Shit...

  He didn’t want to lead anything. He was hoping they would all run along to the armoury and he could go back to doing what he did best. He calculated the odds again; some of them weren’t going to make it. All they had were their standard sidearm, which might as well have been water pistols.

  “Stay on my hip. Nobody goe
s ahead of me and you move when I tell you to and you stop when I tell you to. Clear?” He preferred working alone.

  “Yes sir!” Came the resounding chorus. He looked at the captain mockingly, how could she put up with this crap every day? Much to their confusion Roland didn’t return their salute either. Instead he moved over to the keypad next to the bridge doors. Now that the Hammer had crash dumped all the information, the hand print pads were useless. Instead he had to type in the unique door code into the keypad. After the little light turned green he pulled up the list of all the door codes on his wrist touch pad.

  The heavy bridge doors parted in half to reveal an empty well-lit corridor. The alarm had been muted now but the walls still flashed red and yellow lights. The corridors were black with white square panels placed over the top, adding to the sterile image of all things UDC. The walkway curved round to the left which Roland knew would lead to a T-junction from the map on his wrist. Once there he pressed against each wall, checking the corridors for threats.

  It was impossible to be quiet with all the feet behind him. He held up a solid fist in the air as he stopped mid-walk. He heard the familiar sound of energy weapons not far from their location. They were making their way to the bridge already. He swivelled three-sixty, checking the surrounding doors for somewhere to hide the sheep.

  “Everyone back up into cartography, we’ll let them pass.” To his amazement they didn’t look to the captain for approval. Only seconds after the door slid shut they all heard the sounds of heavy boots passing by. Turning from the door he took in the room. It was spherical in shape with a white domed ceiling and low lighting. Holograms projected different star charts all over the room until one by one they fizzed out and the console lights flickered for a moment.

  “That’s it then,” said one of the cadets. “With the star charts gone we’ll never find home...” they were losing their morale and with it their much needed adrenaline. Thankfully the captain stepped in because this was not his thing.

  “When Central Parliament doesn’t hear from us they will send ships to investigate. We just need to hold these bastards off and survive. Do you hear me soldiers, we will survive.” Roland mockingly gave her a thumbs-up. In his experience all the words in the galaxy couldn’t get you out of a gun fight. To her credit they seemed to respond well. A few pats on the back and whispers of encouragement and they were ready to go again.

  “We have a problem,” said Roland, “we’re close to the bridge and when they see it’s empty, they will double back.” He had already seen the solution to his problem. “The armoury is two levels below us. We’re going through the emergency access hatch,” he pointed to the white tube that cut through the height of the room at the back. It was lined in broken red bars from top to bottom with [Emergency Hatch] stamped across a rectangular panel. “Hopefully they don’t know about them yet, but we still need to move fast.” Captain Fey was already pulling the manual lever to open the tube. Once accessed, the entire tube lit up to reveal a ladder on the far side. Roland inspected both ways before climbing in and descending.

  On his way down he heard the sounds of combat in the corridors around them. The next level down read as LAB 4. He had no idea what it was and he didn’t really care, it was the sounds inside that concerned him; heavy boots stomping around as they ransacked the contents of the lab. He tapped the foot above him who did the same until everyone had stopped. Pushing out from the ladder he looked up, placing a finger to his mouth and pointing to the door. If they could go undetected they only had to reach the next floor.

  The tube door gave a thunk, right before it opened.

  There was a moment’s hesitation before the alien intruder roughly grabbed Roland’s tactical vest and pulled him into LAB 4. Hoping to give them extra time he threw himself off the ladder as he was pulled. His added momentum caused the both of them to tumble across a table knocking off glass vials and electronic equipment.

  Once both had crashed to the floor, Roland leaned round to see the emergency hatch. One of the cadet’s was staring at him, unsure what they should do.

  “Keep going, don’t stop!” A four-fingered hand gripped his throat. The pressure of his attacker’s knee dropped onto his chest pinning him to the floor. His instincts kicked in as his muscle memory responded. Using all his strength he quickly brought his left hand to the alien’s wrist and his right hand to the alien’s elbow. Without stopping the pincer motion, he pushed both hands until the arm snapped. The alien collapsed onto him until Roland brought his elbow up into the padded material under the helmet. Gripping its throat, the alien stumbled backwards taking the pressure off his chest, everything below the elbow was swinging unnaturally. Not letting up, Roland grabbed the side of the helmet and forced it into the side of the counter. One quick release of the LX under his arm ended the struggle. He stopped for a moment, panting to regain his breath.

  Looking back to the hatch he could see it was empty. He felt relief, knowing he was no longer responsible for them. Responsibility was like a bad jacket, it just didn’t fit right. An idea occurred to him without his excess baggage. If he could get back to the hangar and reach the shuttle he had intended to pilot, he might be able to find his way home. The Hammer would have uploaded the coordinates to the nearest relay ready for their departure. If he could reach the relay he should technically be able to find the next one and so on until he reached Earth.

  It made sense; there was no way they were going to win against these odds. Normally he preferred a fight with the odds stacked against him, but without alcohol the odds were all too clear. He had done his duty by at least saving the captain, screw the commodore. This way he could come back with real forces and have himself a proper fight. That’s what he told himself at least. He would most likely find the first bar he came across and never leave. He’d made up his mind though.

  Leaving LAB 4 he made his way down the corridor. He had to descend two levels to find his way back to the hangar and he didn’t fancy getting pulled out of another hatch. Meeting no resistance he entered a nearby lift and keyed in the hangar. He retrieved the SM72 from his back and checked the number on top. The number seventy confirmed it was fully loaded and ready to go.

  A few seconds in and the lift shook, the lights flickering before the sound of grating metal penetrated the walls. It came to a stop halfway down the next level.

  I could kill for a drink right now.

  It amused him that those words were very true.

  He would have to climb out on this level and find another way down. He wasn’t sure what had caused the breakdown but it was obvious that fighting had broken out all over the ship now. Pulling the doors aside with his fingers he cracked it open an inch checking the other side. The floor was at chest level now, causing him to throw his gun out before climbing out after it. There was blood on the wall at the nearest intersection. Unfortunately the bloody hand print next to it had five digits. More evidence of them losing this fight.

  Before committing himself to the next corner he stepped back, taking cover behind two vertical pipes. He heard them before he saw them. The captain’s voice gave them away as she directed the bridge crew to the armoury. He remained hidden choosing to stick with his own mission; getting the hell out of there.

  He recalled the layout of the ship and was impressed he could remember almost every floor. To double check he brought up the map on his wrist touch pad. He was right, there was another lift on the second right up ahead. He moved off in the direction of the lift when he heard another noise; screaming. It came from the direction the bridge crew had gone. Intermingled with the screams were the sounds of gun fire and a distinct energy weapon. Roland tried to block it out and told himself to stay put; the lift was almost on his level.

  Son of a bitch...

  He didn’t know exactly why, but he was now backtracking to the corner he had spotted them from. This whole scenario would have been different if the Arc-bar didn’t sell alcohol that could only last an hour. If he was still g
ood and drunk he would probably be on that shuttle right now. He couldn’t quite convince himself of that though. The reality was closer to him being locked up in the brig for telling the captain to go space herself.

  Turning the last corner to their location he heard the familiar organic sound of the green gel. Several screams were cut instantly short as they had most likely been solidified. Peeking round he saw the remains of the bridge crew hiding in doorways and shooting wildly down the corridor. He counted seven intruders at the other end making steady progression. The captain’s photon weapon had obviously given the aliens caution after what Roland did to their first landing party. Unfortunately the captain was a crap shot. Even when she aimed, it missed them by a couple of feet. Further down he saw the green goo had solidified over three of the crew. He surmised that the intruders must have the goo weaponised in some sort of grenade.

  He turned away considering his options again. The lift would probably be there by now.

  “They’re advancing!” One of the crew shouted. He decided to stop thinking and just react. While he had been thinking about heading back to the lift, another part of his brain had already planned his attack. He broke the corner in a run drawing his dual LX side-arm’s as he did. With the left pistol he kept his finger down on the trigger, causing the red flashes of charged photons to create an almost single beam. He was more conservative with the right, choosing his individual targets.

  The invaders dived for cover as the photon particles went everywhere. His right pistol hit the intended target in the neck almost severing the head. Roland looked up to see the thick black line on the ceiling; he had been waiting for that. His left pistol suddenly cut out with the levels on the side flashing a warning. Avoiding the retaliating fire, he slid across the last couple of metres with his feet out in front of him. The motion was smooth and calculated. Before pushing back up, he flung the left pistol down the corridor towards the invading group like a grenade. Now back on his feet, he wasted no time shoving his elbow into the shatter glass hitting the emergency door control. The resulting thud came from the black line in the ceiling as the two-feet thick blast door closed shut. Three seconds later they all heard the LX 14-02 reach critical level and release its charged payload at once. The explosion boomed against the blast door but it showed no signs of stress.