Atlantia Series 1: Survivor

by Dean Crawford

  Screams erupted from convicts as they were hit by the terrible shrapnel and lost their grip on their hiding places. As they tumbled and crashed against the deck plating or were hurled into the roaring flames still spitting from the ruptured exhaust, Eve saw the for’ard bulkhead wall suddenly burst in front of her as though a giant invisible bullet had punctured it high in its centre.

  The entire bulkhead wall peeled open like a terrible metallic flower, the petals rimmed with snakes of molten metal as a blast of hot air filled the engine room and slammed into the aft bulkhead.

  Eve’s head smacked into her knees as the terrific drag from windblast slowed the hull’s plunge into oblivion, and to her horror she saw through boiling clouds of black and brown smoke a bright blue sky spinning over and over. Her head hit the braces above her and then her boots and butt slammed back into the deck, rattling her body. Screams from less well–braced convicts rang in her ears as their helpless bodies were flung around the interior of the hull, limbs breaking and skulls fracturing until their lifeless corpses flailed around and were caught up in the wreckage around her.

  The massive tongues of flame spluttered out, a freezing wind replacing them and sucking the heat out of the hull. Only the rear bulkhead and the hull’s high speed was building up enough air pressure to allow her to breathe in the rarified high atmosphere. Eve curled herself up as tightly as she could, squeezing her eyes shut and hoping against hope that the hull would hold for just a little longer.

  The rattling, screaming, howling crescendo seemed to carry on for an eternity until Evelyn felt herself rolling upside down in her tiny sanctuary.

  The entire hull seemed to tumble over on itself, shouts of alarm and pain competing with the rush of wind blustering through the hull’s hollowing shell. Then a tremendous crash shook it and Eve screamed as she saw the entire remaining for’ard section of the hull ripped off as it crashed against rocks briefly visible through the dense smoke filling her vision.

  The hull flipped over in mid–air, a flash of revolving blue sky and bright sunlight filling it for a brief moment, and then it righted itself and slammed into unyielding earth with a screeching, grinding blast of tortured metal. The exterior hull plating was stripped away as though it were the skin of some feeble fruit, the rear bulkhead tearing open as clouds of dust and sand and shards of metal sprayed across what was left of the hull as it ploughed across the ground and then smashed into deep water.

  The water flushed like a tsunami through the hull, those few remaining souls who clutched to braces and bulkheads torn from their hiding places by the force of the water and snatched away into oblivion.

  Eve had barely an instant to draw a deep breath before she was entombed beneath the water that rushed past her with unimaginable force, trying to drive the air from her lungs as it dragged her from her sanctuary. She glimpsed the hull flashing past her, a confused miasma of torn metal amid clouds of glistening bubbles, smouldering as it cooled.

  The rear bulkhead loomed, patched with the mangled corpses of inmates who had been slammed against it, and then it rushed by as she passed through the ragged hole torn in it. She spun in the water, saw the entire bulk of the hull sinking away into a darkened oblivion of ocean far below her, and then she realised that she was sinking with it.

  The huge suction of the hull and her dense gravity suit and boots were pulling her down. Evelyn reached down as she plunged through the deep water, the pressure on her lungs crushing her chest as she hauled off the heavy boots and then reached up, pulling on her zip. She tugged at it, tumbling end over end as the pressure increased and she felt her lungs burn and her heart pulse inside her.

  The zip came free and she pulled it all the way down, pulled her arms out and then kicked free of it. The suit fell away and continued to sink beneath her as with the last of her strength she kicked for the shimmering light of the surface as a stream of bubbles spilled from her lips.

  She rose, faster and faster until the surface of the ocean seemed close enough to touch. On impulse she reached out for it as her last reserves of will deserted her and the air spilled from her lungs in a great cloud of bubbles that glistened in the light of the sky above the water’s surface.

  Eve’s vision faded and blackened, and then she broke through the surface.

  She sucked in a huge lung full of air, still blind as she plunged back beneath the waves. Her eyesight returned and she managed to kick out with her numbed legs enough to break the surface and re–inflate her lungs again. Her vision starred and her limbs tingled but she managed to stay afloat as she sucked in huge volumes of blessed air and looked about her.

  She could taste salt on the water and she turned to see a coastline of sand–coloured rock looming nearby. Above, in the blue sky, what looked like a shower of fast–moving stars shone as they fell, the debris from the hull leaving thin trails of smoke as countless chunks of smouldering metal plunged to the ground nearby.

  She looked around for any sign of Andaim but there was nobody in the water with her.

  Eve turned and wearily struck out for the shore, swimming through the choppy water until she made it to the edge of a broad beach. She got to her feet, staggered through the rollers until she cleared the water and collapsed to her hands and knees.

  The sun in the sky above was warm, as was the sand beneath her, and she slumped onto it as she briefly recalled the beach in the sanctuary, back aboard the Atlantia.

  Her exhaustion overwhelmed her and she lost consciousness.

  ***

  XXIII

  ‘They’re gone.’

  Dhalere turned away from then viewing screen and looked at Hevel as she spoke.

  ‘Only fragments made it to the surface, several of which hit the water and all of which were aflame when they did so. There’s nothing significant left but the largest stern section of Atlantia Five’s hull, which hit deep ocean to the west of the deserts and will likely sink within days.’

  Hevel stared at the screen, which still showed the planet and a few last remnants of the hull streaking flame across the atmosphere.

  ‘Good. Now we can put this unfortunate episode behind us and move forward.’

  Captain Idris Sansin shook his head.

  ‘You really think that this crew is going to forget that you just killed over a hundred men? You think that will engender their trust, or their loyalty?’

  Hevel shook his head as he took the captain’s chair and swivelled it to face him.

  ‘Until a few moments ago, captain, we were shackled to those damned prisoners and stuck here waiting to see who died first. Now, we’re free again to defend ourselves and make a stand.’

  ‘Make a stand how?’ Idris demanded. ‘Our weapons are severely depleted, as is our manpower. We face an enemy that has scoured our entire colony of life and possesses far greater firepower than our own. The moment we are sighted, we will be destroyed. Our only choice is to flee, right now.’

  Hevel stood from the captain’s chair again, placed his hands behind his back and stared down at Idris and C’rairn.

  ‘Flee,’ he echoed. ‘To run away. To die like cowards. Is that what you would have us do, captain? Have we not fled enough? Do you not think that this crew wants the opportunity to fight back for a change? We’ve been running from the Word for years. How much longer must we flee before we realise that the only defence left to us now is attack?’

  Idris said nothing.

  ‘As I thought,’ Hevel replied to his own question. ‘You have no answer, captain. You no longer have what it takes to make the big decisions, and now we have nothing left but a mutiny to do what should have been done a very long time ago.’

  The bridge door opened and Bra’hiv walked through with six of his men behind him, all of them carrying pulse rifles and ominous expressions. Bra’hiv halted at the bridge command platform and looked in turn at the captain and at Hevel.

  ‘I am in command now, Bra’hiv,’ Hevel snapped. ‘What is your report?’

  Bra’hiv h
esitated, looking again at the captain.

  ‘You may surrender your weapons and join the captain if you wish,’ Hevel informed him. ‘Or you may serve me. I intend to make a stand against the Word, here. The choice is yours, Bra’hiv.’

  Bra’hiv looked at Idris for a long moment, and then turned to Hevel.

  ‘Both Andaim and Evelyn were lost with the prison hull. We were unable to reach them or the convicts before the hull was detatched.’

  ‘The fusion core?’ Dhalere asked.

  ‘Lost, with the hull,’ Bra’hiv confirmed.

  ‘A shame,’ Hevel replied, and then gestured to the captain and his command crew. ‘Take them to the holding cells,’ he ordered. ‘We have a battle to undertake, and I don’t want this old man getting in the way for a moment longer.’

  Bra’hiv and his marines encircled the captain, who shot Hevel a last glance as he was led from the bridge.

  ‘This is a mistake,’ he shouted. ‘You’ll kill us all.’

  Hevel did not reply, instead waiting until the captain and his crew were led away before he turned and surveyed the bridge. It was now mostly manned by civilians, people who probably had not done a single day’s military service in all of their lives. They stared back at Hevel, nervous but anxious to please, to serve, to do something other than run and hide.

  ‘What I will ask of you,’ Hevel began, ‘over the coming days, will likely scare us all. We know of what is out there, of what draws closer to us with every passing orbit, and I know that any man who did not fear it would be a fool.’

  Hevel looked into the eyes of his new crew as he spoke.

  ‘But to run forever, to hide and to cower in fear is just as foolish. We are the last of our kind,’ he said. ‘Would those who have died watch us from the beyond and cry in shame at what we have done? Ask yourselves, what would those whom you have lost want you to do? What would you like to do, given the chance?’

  The crew remained silent but Hevel could see the resolve harden in their features, the restrained anger bubbling to the surface as they thought of their fathers, mothers, siblings and friends who had died so horrifically at the hands of the Word.

  ‘We can either run for all eternity or we can stand and fight,’ Hevel said as he slammed one clenched fist into his upturned palm. ‘There is never going to be a right time, a perfect time, to fight back. We either decide to, or we continue to flee to who–knows–where across the cosmos. If any of you don’t feel as though you can stomach this fight, then you’re free to join the captain and his crew in the holding cells.’

  Hevel pointed to the bridge door and waited. Several officers looked at the door, but nobody moved. Hevel lowered his arm again.

  ‘Then this is it,’ he said finally. ‘This is our time to fight back. Tactical, what’s our weapon status?’

  Keyen looked down at the various screens before him. ‘Er, all pulse weapons functional, but all also have limited plasma supplies.’

  Hevel nodded. ‘What’s our hull integrity?’

  ‘Fully secure,’ Keyen replied. ‘No breaches or damage from the blast, except the fuel leaks which are being fixed as we speak. We don’t have any ray shielding left, however, so any hits we take will impact the hull directly.’

  ‘What about directed weapons?’

  ‘Automated grapples and explosive–harpoons are fully operational, but they’re hardly going to be much use against the Word.’

  ‘What about our fighters?’ Hevel asked.

  ‘Sixty automated drones,’ came the reply, ‘plus about eighteen Raython fighters with standard armoury of pulse weapons and magnetic mines.’

  Hevel nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Our weapons and defences won’t be any match for the Word,’ he said out loud, ‘at least not on the face of it. The only way we can really win the fight is not by force but by guile.’

  ‘Sir,’ Lael asked, still manning her post, ‘you’re asking us to go up against the most intelligent creation we know of in the universe. Neither force or guile will do us any good.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Dhalere challenged from nearby, ‘you’d prefer to join the captain in the holding cells?’

  Lael did not respond, but she glanced at Mikhain. The tactical officer said nothing.

  *

  The holding cells were little more than barred pens more often used to store discharged ammunition magazines and other paraphernalia, located several decks below the bridge in a secured area. Bra’hiv and his marines led the captain and C’rairn, who had stood down along with the rest of the displaced bridge crew, down to the cells and locked them in.

  Idris waited until the cells were shut and his people could not get injured by the mutinous marines before he spoke.

  ‘Bra’hiv, you’re making a mistake.’

  Bra’hiv moved to stand in front of the captain’s cell.

  ‘I’m not making a mistake,’ he replied. ‘Better that I can keep an eye on what Hevel’s doing and have him think that I stand with him, than be locked up in there with all of you.’

  The captain heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘You know that Hevel can’t command a warship much less win this battle.’

  Bra’hiv sighed. ‘The majority of the civilians are behind him and my men tell me that they won’t back down. They’ve been screaming for retaliation for years. I don’t doubt that some of them would choose to fight even if it were absolutely certain that they would die doing so.’

  ‘It is absolutely certain,’ C’rairn pointed out. ‘And now we’ve lost Andaim too, and he was our best shot at figuring a way out of this.’

  The captain looked across at C’rairn, who shrugged apologetically. ‘Sorry sir, it’s just the way it is. Andaim was the best tactical officer we had and…’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking that,’ the captain said, and looked at Bra’hiv. ‘If you could regain the bridge from Hevel, would you do it?’

  Bra’hiv’s expression betrayed no emotion. ‘I always serve the colony sir.’

  ‘Very diplomatic,’ Idris acknowledged. ‘Now take the stick out of your ass and tell me if you’d take the bridge if Andaim were still here.’

  Bra’hiv lifted his chin. ‘Yes sir, I would.’

  Idris gripped the bars of the holding cell. ‘Then find him.’

  ‘But sir, he died in the…’

  ‘A man like Andaim,’ Idris said, ‘is not dead until you’re holding his corpse in your hands. He may have found a way to survive the re–entry, and that woman Evelyn seems almost indestructible. Serve Hevel, but try to find Andaim.’

  Bra’hiv saluted. ‘Yes, captain.’

  The security team marines turned and strode away. Idris relinquished his grip on the bars of the cell and stepped back.

  ‘Bra’hiv can’t do this on his own,’ C’rairn said. ‘He could have turned against Hevel.’

  ‘Bra’hiv feared that civilians would die in a firefight,’ Idris corrected C’rairn. ‘He maintained his position and did his job, and now he may be able to help us.’

  ‘Even if he finds Andaim alive,’ C’rairn said, ‘how the hell will that help us? Most of the time we’ve only been a few hours ahead of the Word. It can’t be long before we’re found, and then….’

  C’rairn’s voice trailed off. Idris looked about him at the other cells where his bridge crew were crammed in. He managed to find his voice.

  ‘We will figure something out,’ he promised them. ‘It’s our duty to overcome adversity, just as we did when we escaped the colony, just as we have done ever since.’

  ***

  XXIV

  Eve awoke to a chill around her legs. She opened her eyes and saw water wash gently around her and then recede as the tide dragged it back toward the ocean. She lifted her head and somehow found the strength to drag herself up the beach.

  The sun had shifted in the sky, higher now and blazing down from the heavens as she crawled to where a chunk of scorched hull plating had thumped down onto the beach to form a rudimentary metal cave
. She crawled into the tiny patch of shade it provided and laid in a foetal position for a long time as she stared out across the coastline.

  She could see from the endless expanse of undisturbed sand that nothing had walked on the beach in recent hours or days. The wash of foliage and debris off the waters of the ocean reached only half way up the beach, the high–tide mark most likely caused by the gravity of the small moon she could see high in the hard blue sky, a pale patch of ghostly white staring back down at her.

  A brief memory of the sand–coloured wastes below the ship while it had been in orbit above the planet served as an indication that there would be little chance of her surviving for long out here alone. The more temperate regions she had glimpsed as the sun rose over this isolated little planet would be many months’ march away and she had no idea what predators might haunt this world.

  She recovered her breath and strength enough to get out from beneath the hull plating and stand up to walk slowly up the beach toward a low bluff. The dry, hot wind buffeted her hair as she clambered up the bluff and looked out across the wilderness.

  The rocky, sandy firmament stretched away from her, flaring beneath the brutal sunlight. Patches of thorn scrub scratched an existence from the barren and unyielding soil, and ancient river courses long since desiccated wound their way like dead snakes toward the shoreline. In the distance a low ridge of rocky hills seemed to hover above the trembling horizon, the heat distortion making them seem closer than they really were.

  She turned and looked out across the ocean. Broad, blue and empty, vanishing into a horizon devoid of life.

  Evelyn sat down on the bluff, aware that she lacked even a source of drinking water, and wondered whether it might not have been better to have just been incinerated or drowned during the prison hull’s last moments. Better to have died quickly than to suffer the agony of dehydration out here on the lonely dunes.