The Dauntless: (War of the Ancients Trilogy Book 1)

by Alex Kings

  Dunn, receiving another report went pale. He turned from his station and looked at Lanik. “One of the fire team is in the aft corridor – the section we've sealed off. He says there's a bomb attached to the hull.”

  “Show me,” said Lanik. A moment later the co-ordinates came up on his screen. Just inside the aft hull. The corridor was now in hard vacuum after the decompression. The fire team's armour would allow them to survive in that environment for a few minutes. If the bomb exploded there, most of the blast would be trapped inside the Dauntless. Enough to destroy the ship.

  He ran through the possibilities in his mind: They had no idea how long it would be before the bomb detonated. Trying to disable it would almost certainly make it detonate early. And even if it was pulled free, someone would have to get it away from the ship, wouldn't they?

  Then the idea came.

  “Put me through to the officer on the site,” he ordered.

  “Done, sir.”

  Lanik asked the officer over the comms: “Can you tell me where the bomb is attached?”

  “To the floor, sir.”

  Te section was heavily damaged. It might just work … “I want you to find the edge of the deck plating, and try and pull it up.”

  A few seconds later the answer came: “It's free, sir! The bomb and the deck plating are free of the ship.”

  Now he just had to get the thing out. “Push it towards the hole. Then I want you hold on to something, Ensign. Hold on tight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lanik turned to the bridge crew. “We're going to open the seals and decompress the entire aft section. For a few moments, anyway. Miller, put up a warning. Dunn, prepare decompression sequence.”

  A moment later the officers were at work. Miller spoke into her comms: “All crew, prepare for emergency decompression. Repeat, emergency decompression.”

  “Seals are ready, sir,” said Dunn.

  “Do it,” ordered Lanik.

  “Seals opening now.”

  A faint but distinct roar came through the CIC as air began to rush from the ship. The seconds seemed to drag out:

  One …

  Two …

  Three …

  A blip appeared on one of the command displays. “We've got the bomb on aft sensors!” confirmed Dunn.

  “Shoot it down,” ordered Lanik. “Close the seals.”

  The blip on the display vanished. The faint roar faded away. “Seals closed, re-pressurising now, Dunn confirmed. He looked at Lanik and managed a faint smile. “The bomb has been destroyed.”

  Lanik acknowledged this with a brief nod. But things weren't over yet. “Is there any sign of the shuttle the intruders escaped on?”

  “Nothing on sensors, sir?”

  Probably a stealth shuttle, then, Lanik thought. They could search for it, but that would take time an effort. While the Glaber hunter was still harrying them, it would be almost impossible.

  Which meant the datachip was almost certainly lost. Lanik felt his jaw tighten. “What's the status of the hunter?”

  “They're keeping their distance,” Dunn reported. “They've sustained heavy damage, but they're still attacking.” The ship rumbled around them. He looked up at Lanik. “We can't take much more of this.”

  The command console flashed up another alert. What now? Lanik thought.

  Another ship had just jumped in, a few hundred kilometres away from the Dauntless.

  What was it? The Glaber's backup? At last the disturbance subsided.

  It was the Black Cat.

  Chapter 48: Hanson Vs. Sruthur

  Hanson found himself separated from his team by the barrier. He alone was standing in the corridor. The little room itself was sealed off.

  Down the corridor, by the elevator doors, the Glaber was already raising its assault rifle.

  Almost on instinct, he threw himself backwards to an intersection between corridors. As he rounded it, the assault rifle roared. A few bullets chewed into his armour, but didn't make it through.

  In cover, he reached for his rifle. Back in the corridor, there came an immense bang. By the sound of it, Agatha was trying to shoot through the barrier with the Ancient weapon.

  Hanson readied his rifle and looked round the corner seeking his target – and found the Glaber bounding down the corridor towards him. He fired – but the Glaber had already shifted to the other side of the corridor.

  It collided with him before he could pull back, and the two of them fell together. His rifle swung to the side, firing uselessly into the wall. They hit the ground, with the Glaber on top of Hanson. Already, with unerring speed and precision, it was moving its own rifle to aim at Hanson's face.

  He pushed the barrel aside just before it fired. Deafening gunfire roared in his ear, and bullets ricocheted off the floor to clatter against his armour. In the background, another blast slammed into the barrier.

  Hanson dropped his rifle and, with his now free hand, elbowed the Glaber in the ribs. A weak spot for both species – his attacker winced, even through the armour. In the second the Glaber was off-balance, Hanson threw it to the side, away from him. While it scrambled to grab its own rifle, Hanson picked up his again and swung round.

  Simultaneously, they aimed at each other. The Glaber's rifle pointed at his neck; his pointed at its chest. Both knelt at either sides of the corridor. For a single, silent moment, Hanson found himself staring into the silvered faceplate of the Glaber's helmet. He realised they might die together. This Glaber was stronger and faster than any he'd fought – it wasn't a footsoldier, it was a hive-leader. Or very near the top of the hive's hierarchy, at least.

  Still, neither fired.

  Something occurred to Hanson. “We talked over Vane,” he said, still ready to fire.

  It wasn't a question, and he didn't expect a reply. But the silvering on the Glaber's helmet suddenly turned transparent, revealing a face of loose, grey-pink skin and foot-long, razor-sharp incisors. “We did,” it said it a faint growl. It cocked its head slightly. “Captain Hanson. You are a better opponent than I expected.” Its lips pulled back into a snarl. “I will be happy to kill you” In one smooth motion it swung its rifle down and swatted Hanson's rifle aside. By the time Hanson could react, both rifles were pointed at the wall. The Glaber sprang forward and headbutted him. The helmets cracked together with a sound as loud as gunfire, and even with the protection of his helmet, Hanson's vision darkened.

  The Glaber dragged his rifle from his grip and threw it down the corridor. While it was in the middle of this motion, Hanson managed to pull himself away and kick it in the ribs again. It fell to the side, and he scrambled back.

  But now the Glaber was between him and his gun. It raised its own rifle up to him again.

  Fine, thought Hanson. You like close quarters combat? We'll do close quarters.

  He sprang at the Glaber, wrenching its rifle upwards. For a few seconds, they scrambled like that, pushing the rifle back and forth. The Glaber was stronger than Hanson; its moves seemed to come out of nowhere, twisting his shoulder back and thumping him in the ribs. But he managed to keep the rifle between them two. The barrier behind them was beginning to whine under the weapon's repeated blows.

  At last, Hanson found leverage, putting his foot against the wall of the corridor. He simultaneously pushed forward and, taking a page from the Glaber's book, headbutted it. The Glaber fell back. Hanson landed on top of it.

  And the rifle fell between them, pointing at the Glaber's chin.

  Hanson grabbed the Glaber's finger, still on the trigger, and pushed it down.

  The sound battered at his ears. The bullets dug through the helmet in a fraction of a second. It went limp. Thin, clear blood ran from the hole at the base of the Glaber's helmet.

  Hanson sat up beside the Glaber, pulled the rifle from its grasp, and sat there, panting, waiting – just in case it got up again. It didn't.

  With a sigh, using the Glaber's rifle as a stick to help him, Hanson pulled himself up. His
shoulder felt like it was on fire, and judging by the sharp pain in his side, he had a cracked rib. He retrieved his rifle and turned back to the main corridor.

  Through the window, the ship sat coated in golden sunlight. The bay doors were open. Antigravity systems humming, the ship began to rise, slowly at first but gathered speed quickly.

  With a final shot, Agatha broke through the barrier, its surface twisting away with a squeal. Srak put his giant hand through the new hole and forced the barrier far enough open for the others to get out.

  But the ship had left the bay and vanished into the sky.

  “Well, Hanson,” said Srak, “I hope this 'another way' you mentioned is a good one.”

  Chapter 49: Jump In, Jump Out

  The Black Cat seemed to hang elegantly in space, an arrowhead of clean, sharp lines against the planet.

  A second later, a segment of the Hunter's hull erupted into a white-hot splash under its laser fire.

  “The Black Cat is firing on the hunter,” Dunn confirmed.

  “Help them out. Keep firing,” Lanik told him, “with everything we have left.”

  Which wasn't much, he had to admit. Well over half the Dauntless's weapons had been scoured away or lost power due to ruptured conduits.

  Under the Black Cat's onslaught, the Hunter's jagged hull burst open in a dozen places. Trailing a dozen streams of boiling metal, it pushed forward, dividing its kinetics and lasers between both ships.

  The space between them glittered with vaporised kinetics. The Hunter's hull opened a little further – then, without warning, it came apart, splitting along a dozen seams of white-hot molten metal. A second later, it went up with a flash, leaving nothing but a few ragged lumps of material and a shell of debris, cooling from white down to cherry red.

  The battle was over.

  And, with agent Serafin here, the mission seemed to be over too.

  Still, there was protocol. “Miller,” said Lanik. “Damage report, casualty report.”

  “Yes, sir,”

  “And get someone down to Yilva's quarters. See what's happened to the datachip.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The ship creaked around them. Another display on the command console flickered briefly, then went dead.

  “Sir,” said Dunn, “I know we've got a lot on our plate here, but there's another ship coming up from the planet's surface.”

  “What is it?”

  “Solar Alliance design. A freighter of some sort.”

  A surviving display on the command console switched to visual. The freighter, a fat little thing, was pulling up through Iona's atmosphere fast enough to heat the air red. The captain? “Hail it,” he said.

  Dunn tapped at his console for a moment. “No response,” he said. “Wait – the freighter is …”

  On the visual feed, the freighter sat against the green-brown immensity of the planet. The view seemed to distort. A black spot appeared in front of the ship, pushing the image of the planet out the way. A few seconds later, the distortion settled – and surface of the planet lay alone. The ship had gone.

  It had jumped away as soon as it had reached the upper atmosphere.

  Lanik didn't know what that meant, but it didn't seem like good news.

  “We've got a hail from the Black Cat,” Dunn said.

  *

  Mr. Bell tugged down the cuffs of his suit jacket and strode across the CIC of the Zephyr to check the displays again.

  Another spanner in the works!

  By now, according to his plan, the Dauntless should have been destroyed. Captain Hanson either dead or trapped on the planet.

  But then the Black Cat had appeared. The very ship that was supposed to stop them at the Afanc had saved them.

  Mr. Bell sighed and took a moment to consider his advantages.

  First: The blanks onboard the freighter had got out of the system safely.

  Second: The stealth shuttle carrying the datachip was on its way back.

  He just needed to get the stealth shuttle safely onboard, then it wouldn't matter.

  The plan came to him quickly.

  “First,” he told the captain, “We're going to jump in front of the shuttle to pick it up. Then, as soon as it's aboard, we will jump away again. Understood?”

  “Sir,” said the Captain. “What about the Black Cat?”

  “Don't you worry about the Black Cat,” said Mr. Bell. “She may be the most advanced ship in the Solar Fleet. But the reason she only needs one pilot is because she's filled to the brim with expert algorithms. Software that happens to belong to Interstellar Liners.” He began to tap at the console. “I want us ready to jump in five minutes.”

  *

  Whatever sliver of friendliness had been in Agent Serafin's expression to begin with was now gone. She looked down on him from one of the command console's working displays. “Commander Lanik,” she said. “I hope I'm not going to see another escape like last me.”

  “Me neither. I don't think the Dauntless would survive,” admitted Lanik.

  “Where is Captain Hanson?”

  “On the surface.”

  Serafin's nostrils flared slightly. “Of course he is. Well, then, I am giving you official notice. Your ship is hereby impounded, and all hands, including your alien friends, are under arrest.”

  “Understood. Though you should know,” began Lanik.

  “What?”

  “The datachip you were after last time is no longer aboard. It was just stolen.”

  Serafin leaned forward and cocked her head. “By whom?”

  “We're not sure. We were infiltrated by a stealth shuttle during our fight with the Glaber.”

  “I see,” said Serafin, evidently unimpressed. “In which case, the shuttle should still be out there?”

  “I believe so.”

  “I hope this isn't another ruse, Commander Lanik,” said Serafin. Nevertheless, she started tapping at a console just offscreen.

  While Lanik was waiting, the command console signalled him. Another jump-in. Evidently, Serafin noticed it too because her attention suddenly flicked to another part of her console.

  The new ship had appeared outside Iona's orbit, two or three light-seconds away. It was a Solar Union vessel. A light scout, by the look of it.

  “Wait there,” said Serafin. “It's sending a transmission.” She tapped at her console and frowned.

  Her image on the screen froze for a second, then lost resolution and became jerky. Her voice came through the speakers distorted: “What have you done, Commander?”

  “We've done nothing,” said Lanik. “What's happening?”

  “My systems are –” began Serafin. Then the audio cut out with a staticky whine, and her image on the display vanished. The connection had been cut.

  “Dunn,” said Lanik. “Identify that ship!”

  But before Dunn could start working at the console, the ship jumped out again.

  Lanik checked the command console again. The Black Cat floated listlessly in orbit beside them.

  They tried hailing it. Nothing.

  A few seconds later, the sensors picked up the Dauntless's shuttle coming from the surface. Lanik wondered how he was going to explain this to the captain.

  Chapter 50: Burnt-Out Corridors

  The cherry-red glow of superheated air filtered in through the windows. A faint, distant roar sounded against the hull.

  As the shuttle broke into the upper atmosphere, Hanson's heart dropped even further. On the telescopic display: A small, sharp-edged arrowhead shape sitting beside the Dauntless. The Black Cat.

  He wondered if Operative Serafin would just shoot him down.

  After the freighter escaped, he and the rest of his team had left Sruthur's body in the facility and gone into the landing bay. They had climbed up the ladder back to the surface. No one had tried to stop them – but what need was there? He'd failed.

  He hadn't really spoken to Srak during the departure. The Varanid obeyed his orders now, but after
their confrontation, something needed to be done.

  The Dauntless looked even more worse for wear. Her outer hull was scarred, some parts gouged out by residual kinetics and laser fire.

  He activates the comms. “Hanson to Dauntless.”

  Lanik's voice, with an edge of exhaustion: “Dauntless Actual here.”

  “Should I be worried about the Black Cat sharing your orbit?”

  A pause, then, “Not at the moment, sir. How did the mission go?”

  “Not well. We lost the freighter and all the blanks. I guess you saw them leave?”

  “We did. If it makes you feel any better, sir, we lost the datachip.”

  Yilva's ears fell flat against her head when she heard this.

  Hanson stared at the blank grille of the comms for a second. “No,” he said at last. “I'm afraid that doesn't make me feel any better. So what happened?”

  As Moore guided the shuttle back up towards the Dauntless, Lanik brought Hanson up to speed. Hanson filled in his side of the story, leaving out – for the moment – the altercation with Srak.

  By the time they had finished, the shuttle was just nosing in through the bay doors. Moore settled on the ground, and the bay re-pressurised.

  As soon as he was out of his armour, Hanson headed for the CIC. His route took him through burnt-out corridors, charred and coated with soot. Some sections were lit only by the sickly green glow of emergency lamps hung from holes in the walls. A firefight inside the ship, Lanik had told him, plus three or four grenades, by a dead Blank exploding. The whole ship creaked ominously about him, almost crying for help.

  The CIC itself, hidden in the core of the Dauntless, was relatively unscathed. Some of the consoles and lights had lost power, but nothing major.

  “What's the status of the Black Cat?” he said as he stepped up to the command console.

  Lanik stood on the far side of the console. “Hard to tell,” he said. “It's still emitting heat, so it's not dead. Neutrino readings say its reactor is still active. But that's all. Right now we don't know anything about the life-support. It's an open question whether Serafin is alive or not.”