by Dave Bara
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied.
We were fully loaded and both shuttles were clear of the landing bay when Colonel Babayan’s signal buzzed in my ear. I turned control of the shuttle over to Marker to take her call.
“I hate to admit it,” she said over the com, “but the captain may have been right. My marines have that look about them, no one doubts the man sitting next to them. It’s something we haven’t achieved with a mixed crew yet.”
“I agree. Perhaps now isn’t the time for diversity just for diversity’s sake,” I said.
“One more thing, Cochrane,” she said. “I had my doubts about you when you first came aboard. But since the brawl, well, I just wanted to say I appreciate your talents more now.”
“Thank you,” I replied. I was uncomfortable taking praise from a junior officer, especially one with so much more real space experience than I had.
“What’s your plan?” she said, jumping quickly to the subject at hand.
“It’s very direct,” I said. “Serosian has identified a landing bay. We take the shuttles in; we land and deploy. There are sporadic biosigns aboard, and we’ll be landing fairly close to them. We will reconnoiter to those biosigns, identify them, then determine what our next course of action will be, always with an eye on our egress.”
I looked up at the looming hulk of the dreadnought on our plasma, lit up now by our searchlights. It was as imposing as could be. The hull was pitted and marred, with streaks of seared metal, indicating she’d been in a battle, though from all indications it could have been centuries ago. The stuff of myth and legend.
“Do you think Impulse did this?” asked Babayan, her voice breaking up with static. It was almost as if she read my mind. I shook my head, then realized she couldn’t see me and spoke up.
“I doubt it. Those battle scars look like they’ve been there for a long time,” I said. I checked my watch. “Five minutes to the landing bay, Colonel. Get your men ready.”
“Aye, sir,” came the reply. Then I switched her off. Dobrina called in moments later.
“Remember, Peter,” she said, “If these are our compatriots from Impulse, save as many as you can.”
“And if they aren’t?” I asked. There was a pause on her end of the line.
“Then destroy as many as you can,” she finally said.
“Understood,” I replied. Then I cut the channel. The massive landing bay of the dreadnought loomed over the shuttle as we made our final approach.
“And God help us.”
Aboard the Dreadnought
The landing bay of the dreadnought was empty and huge compared to the one on Starbound. Our shuttles seemed like tiny toys parked low and heavy on the metal decking. We hadn’t needed to open the bay doors ourselves, they’d been blown off in a battle untold decades ago.
The QRN marines stormed out of the shuttle and onto the deck, looking for cover but finding none, so they went to their bellies instead. Marker and I charged our coil rifles and came out last. I hit the deck with a thud that was even stronger than the one you’d get with gravity-activated boots. It was clear I’d landed on a deck that maintained a full G. I looked around at the men sprawled out on the deck, then tapped my wrist display. My grav boots hadn’t activated. They were designed to do so automatically in a near-zero- or zero-G environment.
“This ship has artificial gravity,” I said from my defensive crouch. “There was no indication of that coming in. What do you make of it, Colonel?” Babayan stepped freely about the deck, then came up to me, just she and I and Marker on the command channel.
“There’s certainly no central generator creating a gravity wave throughout the ship, and no indication from my readings of an artificial well emanating from a focal point. I’d say we’re dealing with something built in to the deck itself.” I looked to her and Marker through our shielded faceplates, then made a decision.
“Gentlemen,” I said, after switching to the general marine band. “We appear to be dealing with a deck-based gravity system. Disengage your grav boots. If we encounter a deck with no artificial gravity be prepared to turn them back on at a moment’s notice. Now let’s clear this deck! Advance!” Then I turned to my colleagues, switching back to the command band.
“Let’s hope there’s no more surprises,” I said as we departed the landing bay. I tried to report back to Dobrina, but the signal was blocked.
The passageway outside the landing deck split in two directions, curving away from us. I took out my hand scanner and swept the deck in front of us. “These two passages connect again about two hundred meters forward,” I said. I linked my scanner to Babayan and Marker so they could see the same display and then gave out orders.
“Colonel Babayan, take your unit to the right,” I said via the command channel. “Sergeant Marker, we’ll go left. We’ll converge at the intersection. Be cautious, but ignore any reconnoitering of closed-off areas. We’re only interested in the biosigns. Clear?”
“Clear, sir,” chimed in both marines, and we started down the passageway.
The halls were wide enough for five men to walk side by side, but we maintained a textbook single-file advance formation, staying close to the inside wall and then crossing to the outside every ten yards or so. In this way we were able to rapidly advance down the curved hallway with a minimum of our unit exposed to potential enemy fire.
Marker led, giving commands on an open channel. I took up the rear with only two men behind me, listening in to the advance and chatter but keeping my own mic linked only to the command channel. I’d lost contact with Babayan seconds after we passed out of visual range. It was tempting to use a longwave signal, but I decided discretion was still the order of the day, and I was saving that com for emergency communication with Starbound.
Five minutes later, Marker indicated over the channel that he had the colonel’s team in sight. Another two and we were all gathered at what appeared to be a large metal freight lifter. I scanned for biosigns.
“They’re above us,” I said, holstering the scanner. “This decking does an effective job of blocking anything that would give us a definitive ID, but I can still tell direction and distance with some certainty. Colonel Babayan and I will go up, five men from each team with us. Sergeant Marker and the rest of you, begin searching the rooms between here and the hangar deck. I want to make sure we have a clear path back to our shuttles in the event of an incident.”
“What kind of ‘incident’ are you expecting?” asked Marker. He seemed annoyed at being left out of the party. “I should be there.”
I shook my head no. “I want you here commanding this unit, backing me up. You’re damn good at covering my ass and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“But—”
“No buts! Colonel Babayan will pick a man to leave in charge of her unit and then I want you to get to it. I don’t intend to dawdle up there, just get in, find our biosign, and get out. Clear?” Even through the glass of his EVA suit I could see his frustration from his taut jawline, but he was too good a marine to protest.
“Clear, sir!” he said. Then he started yelling orders to his men while Babayan picked her five and left another sergeant in charge of the reconnoiter.
“Let’s go!” I said as our team of twelve gathered in front of the lifter doors.
“Um . . .” started Babayan, “how do we open it?”
“Good question.” I found an electronic keypad, but it was long burned out.
“There should be a manual override close by,” I said, walking around to the side of the door and finding a round metal hand crank. I tried it and it held fast. “Give me a hand!” I motioned to two of the more burly marines, one Carinthian and one Quantar. The three of us stacked our gloved hands and slowly turned the crank until the doors gave way with a gush of stale air escaping from the lock. We turned it another full cycle again and it slid open qu
icker than I expected.
“Hydraulics,” said Babayan. “Still working, too. Impressive.”
“We can compliment their engineers later,” I said, stepping tentatively onto the lifter deck. The ceiling above was open except for a flange a good twenty feet up just wide enough for a man to walk on.
“Gangway,” said the colonel.
“Um,” I said, thinking. I shined my LED up the open shaft. In the distance, a lifter hung crosswise across torn metal, suspended in the shaft by luck when it had been displaced, presumably during a battle. “Well, we’re not getting up that way,” I said. Babayan flashed her light to the back wall.
“Take the stairs?” she suggested. The stairs were in fact a ladder bolted to the wall that went up to the gangway.
“The stairs it is,” I said. Two marines led the way and then I followed Babayan up. Once we got the detachment up to the next deck I turned my bioscanner back on.
We were looking down a broad, straight hallway with only a few rooms on either side of the wall. “I make it about a hundred yards to the biosign,” I said. “Stagger left formation. Let’s go.”
A QRN marine led the way down the left side of the hallway, a Carinthian five yards back on the right wall. I came second on the left and then Babayan came up on the right. We progressed this way slowly, examining open bays that were essentially empty except for scattered equipment and empty storage racks. This was clearly a staging area for the hangar deck.
Once we were about halfway to the biosign I took another reading, then switched on the command channel to Babayan.
“There’s no way this biosign is the crew from Impulse. At most it’s one person, or a collection of small creatures.”
“Or a big box of nanovirus?” said Babayan. I shook my head.
“All our nanoscans are clear. I’m picking up body temp, heart rate, what appears to be subdued brain function. Someone’s either unconscious or very dumb.” Babayan snorted in my ear.
“Do you use humor to get through tense situations?” she asked. I thought about the question.
“I suppose I do,” I admitted.
“Well then,” she said, “let’s go find our moron.”
We stopped in front of a closed door to an office or utility room of some kind. I turned my LED to the floor.
“Look,” I said, “the dust layer has been disturbed, and recently. Looks like two sets of tracks,” I shone my light further down the hall. “They came from in front of us, then went back the way they came.”
“Which means whatever is in there was left for us to find,” said Babayan. “What if it’s a trap?”
“We came here to find survivors of Impulse,” I said. “Our most likely candidate is just beyond that door. Do you suggest we don’t go in?” She shook her head.
“I suggest we follow protocols and let two of the grunts take the risks.”
I sighed in frustration, but asked for volunteers and got my two in short order. We backed off down the hall and crouched in defensive positions.
“Should we use our coil rifles, sir?” asked one of the grunts, the Carinthian one, with a heavy accent. I shook my head.
“Try the doorknob first,” I suggested. He did, and it opened. They walked in without event.
“Sir!” came the private’s excited voice over my com. “I think we’ve found a survivor! Looks to be female, sir.”
In an instant I was up and bolted for the door. I swept through the doorway and into the arms of the mammoth Carinthian marine, who was holding me to keep me from floating off.
“You need to activate your boots, sir,” he said. “Gravity’s off in here.”
I did as suggested and got myself firmly rooted to the floor again. The room was full of junk; wire bundles, discarded equipment, tools and metal storage boxes floated freely throughout the room. I pushed the junk aside as best I could.
“Where is she?” I asked.
“Up there, sir,” the Carinthian pointed to a floating EVA suit near the high ceiling, about five meters up. The EVA suit could have been empty for all I could see.
“Get her down, goddamn it!” I yelled. The Carinthian marine handed his gun to the Quantar private and disengaged his boots, floating upward awkwardly and grabbing the suit by the arm. Then he got tangled in floating wires and lost his grip on her.
“Jesus!” I grabbed him by the leg and pulled him down, activating his boots on the way so that he stuck to the floor again. “Get out of my way!” I said, and pushed him aside in my impatience. I disengaged my boots, extended my toes and pushed off with just a slight feather touch, reaching up and taking the floating suit in my left hand, using my right hand against the wall to steer myself as I gently pulled her down.
I got to the floor and reactivated my grav boots, then took her out of the room and gave her to another pair of marines, stopping to look inside the helmet. It was Jenny Hogan, my Quantar astrogator from Impulse and Admiral Wesley’s niece.
She was unconscious and still breathing, but it was sharp and shallow. Her eyes were closed and ringed with black circles, her face and lips strikingly pale. I checked her oxygen levels: forty-two minutes left out of three hours. I turned to Babayan.
“Whoever left her here hasn’t been gone long. At most two hours, eighteen minutes. We have to assume they’re still around. Let’s get moving!”
She gave the order and we began our egress. Two marines hoisted Hogan between them. We were quickly back down on the main hangar deck level, our unit and Marker’s forming up into a single squad, when Babayan turned to me.
“There’s something I don’t understand,” she said. “Why did they leave her alive for us to find?” I looked at the colonel.
“Calling card,” I said. “They want us to know what they are capable of, so they left us an officer of one of our most powerful warships.” Babayan looked around.
“Let’s hope that’s all they left us,” she said. “But where’s the rest of the crew?”
Before I could answer, a streak of white coil rifle fire shot right between us, head high.
“Take cover!” I yelled, pushing Babayan down to the deck. The marines scattered and went to ground, quickly finding their bearings and returning fire. I rolled off of the colonel and looked up, drawing my coil rifle and blasting out a blaze of orange fury in return. Babayan joined my return fire a moment later. I looked back down the hall to find a dozen black-clad soldiers coming at us from behind, rifles blazing. I remembered the uniforms from my history classes, all black with a gold stripe on the helmet and shoulder epaulets.
Imperial marines.
“Break for the hangar deck!” I yelled into my com. “Get back to the shuttles!” Our units broke ranks as ordered and beat a hasty retreat from the advancing Imperials, running down the hallway. We’d rounded the last bend to the hangar deck, the doors only ten meters away, when we came under fire from the other direction.
“We’re trapped!” said Babayan. “Form ranks!” she ordered. We pulled together, using what small wall space was available in the corridor as cover. The rounded curve of the inner wall provided some defensive angle, but not enough. They were going to mow us down.
“Now what?” asked Babayan. I looked at the situation—both sides of our line coming under fire, bursts of orange and white energy being exchanged. We were sitting ducks in this hallway. I scanned the walls and located a door about halfway down the corridor, directly in the enemy line of fire and farther away from the landing bay.
“Do you have an A4 charge?” I asked Babayan.
“Yes, but only for blasting bulkheads. You set it off in here and it could kill us all,” she said. I watched a moment as one of the Carinthian marines fell in a hail of coil rifle fire. I stuck my hand out.
“Give it to me,” I demanded. She did as ordered and I set the charge for a three-second delay. Another marine fell, this time Q
uantar. I got on the command channel. “Marker, I need suppressing fire to your rear for five seconds. After that, everyone hit the ground and cover. I’m going to drop an A4 charge. On my mark,” I said, then switched back to Babayan. “When the charge goes off you’ll have to collect your troops and get into that room. Then I want a dozen compression grenades in the hallway. And don’t stop to pick up any wounded, including me. If we survive the A4 blast and the compression grenades don’t kill us, it should buy us enough time to get back to our shuttles.”
“Unless we’re all unconscious too! That room won’t protect us much if the door’s blown off,” she said.
“It will have to do,” I replied as I hefted the A4 charge and switched back to Marker’s channel. “When this goes I want your men in that room in a second flat, Sergeant,” I said.
“Got it,” came back Marker’s stressed voice. I hesitated only a second.
“Go!” I said. The air filled with a hail of orange coil rifle fire as I broke down the hallway toward the door. A line of white return fire went past my helmet close enough for me to feel the searing heat through my visor. I ducked and dipped, then tucked into a roll and came up in front of the door, snapping on the magnetized charge and pressing the fire button in the same motion. I bolted back toward my original position taking one step . . . two . . . three . . .
The detonation sent me flying back toward Colonel Babayan and her marines. I spread-eagled in the air as I bounced off the wall and skidded several feet before landing hard. My head was buzzing as I felt someone grab me by my chest plate and drag me down the hallway. There was a rush of blurred activity, bodies streaming into the room I had just blasted open, then I was tossed down on a pile of marines as the second blast from the concussion grenades shook the walls.
I must have blacked out as the next sensation I had was of being dragged down the hallway by two marines, one in Quantar blue and the other in Carinthian green. I looked ahead as we made for the landing deck doorway. There was a firefight going on inside the landing bay, but the orange glow of our weapons was far exceeding that of the white of the Imperial marines’ returning fire. I shook free of my escorts and started to walk on my own, wobbly though I was. Down the hallway, a couple dozen Imperial marines lay prone on the deck, out cold. For how long was the question. I came up next to Babayan at the entrance to the landing deck and stuck my head inside. Our marines were just finishing mopping up the Imperials.
