The Terminal War: A Space Opera Novel (A Carson Mach Adventure)

by A. C. Hadfield

  “Opening the docking bay,” Lassea said. “It’s only half a klick away.”

  Sanchez shook his head. “I knew we’d end up being messed around. The longer we stay, the more chance we’ll end up bogged down in Commonwealth politics.”

  “Stay positive,” Babcock replied. “At least it keeps us busy while the others carry out their mystery mission. It could be worse.”

  The big hunter puffed his cheeks and turned back to the cannon console. Babcock knew Sanchez had wanted to be part of the action on the ground, but he had to get over his injuries from a previous mission. Mach insisted on it.

  “I kinda like it,” Lassea said. “Makes my training seem a little more worthwhile.”

  The bridge door hissed open. Tulula led Nigel to the laser controls. She had already introduced him to the crew during the L-jump, and his skin had returned to shiny black after being fed and watered.

  “Feeling okay?” Lassea asked Nigel.

  “I can’t thank you enough. You saved my life.”

  Lassea gave him a reassuring smile. “Stop saying it. I’m sure you would’ve done the same thing for us.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I’m a laser gunner,” he replied in a matter-of-fact way.

  A smell of burning rubber engulfed the bridge. Babcock wondered what it’d be like on a ship packed with vestans. His eyes watered at the thought.

  “This is Tango-Two-Zero,” a male voice said through the comms speaker. “We’ve successfully docked in the Intrepid.”

  Babcock groaned from his chair. “Sanchez, you’re in charge. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Would I?” Sanchez said and flashed a wicked grin.

  Squid Three chirped. Babcock decided against translating the obvious response. He left the bridge and took the transparent tube elevator back to the docking bay.

  The attack on Tralis’ fleet came as a surprise. Capital ship movements were kept a closely guarded secret between the upper echelons of the Admiralty, and the Axis rarely attacked them. Babcock suspected Tralis thought the same, which is why he wanted a face-to-face, to discuss the reason and ramifications.

  The elevator stopped with a gentle bounce and its doors parted in the middle. Babcock headed across the bay toward the CWDF shuttle’s open side entrance. The bland rectangular shape reminded him of his time serving with the Fleet. They even had a tagline for junior officers of ‘You’re not paid to think.’ Being part of Mach’s team was far more fun, and he could expand his scientific research.

  A female flight officer, in a Navy coverall, snapped a salute as Babcock boarded. He returned the gesture, feeling slightly awkward and sat in the front row of black leather seats in the back.

  The flight officer headed to the cockpit. Babcock gazed out of the window at the Intrepid’s bay entrance rumbling open. Engines roared beneath him, securing clamps snapped away from the shuttle, and they headed into space, toward the capital ship.

  *

  It had been over two decades since Babcock had set foot on one of the Commonwealth’s big beasts. Not since his software configuration for the AI weapons system corrupted and it fired on an allied planet. Enforced exile was the price of failure, although he never returned when the ten-year period expired.

  Two pulse cannons mounted on square turrets, protruded from each corner of the three-hundred-meter-long off-white structure. Quad laser batteries bristled from the top and hull. Red lights of fighter drones swept around it, protecting its extended perimeter.

  A blue light shot from the front of the ship into distant space: a probe designed to scan beyond the reach of the Fleet and send back information.

  The shuttle entered one of the port tunnels. Rings of white lights brightened the long square metallic shaft. If any human or alien wanted to appreciate the full power of the Commonwealth, they only had to see a deployed capital ship.

  Artificial light flooded in through the windows as they entered the enclosed hangar. Two drone fighters stood along one side. The other eight were all deployed, meaning a high state of alert. The pilot guided the shuttle to the opposite side of the hangar and landed next to two of the same craft.

  A mechanical jet bridge smoothly extended out of the wall and attached to the shuttle’s side door with a dull clank. Babcock’s smart-screen beeped, informing him of a received message, but he was caught up in the nostalgia of the moment.

  “You’re clear to leave, sir,” the pilot said on the loudspeaker.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Babcock replied.

  The door automatically opened, and he made his way along the short metallic corridor. He knew the layout inside a capital ship like the back of his hand but was also aware that he wouldn’t get far without a crew security tag.

  A security officer waited at the end, dressed in blue and white disruptive combat clothing. He motioned his rifle to the left. “Welcome, Captain Babcock. This way.”

  Babcock followed along the main central walkway that ran the full length of the ship. He passed closed doors leading to the living quarters, hydroponic farm, upper cannon positions and the mess hall.

  Tralis and Steros sat together in a soundproofed glass conference room near the end of the walkway. It was built behind the entrance to the bridge for a commander to hold private conversations with the upper reaches of the Admiralty or senior officers.

  The marine swiped his tag against the conference room’s security pad. The transparent door slid to one side.

  Tralis looked up and smiled. “Captain Babcock, welcome. Captain Steros has been telling me about your patrol.”

  Babcock eased himself into a soft white leather chair on the opposite side of the table. “I’m sure you’ve got all the facts.”

  Steros gave Babcock a false smile.

  It mattered little. Soon, the young captain would be back to being exclusively Tralis’ problem. The Intrepid would be cut loose from the Fleet after Mach finished his mission. The initial nostalgic feel of being back on a capital ship had faded. Its air of officialdom and competitiveness sent an oppressive shiver down Babcock’s spine.

  “Did you find any survivors?” Tralis asked. “I heard you stayed back to search the wreckage.”

  “We picked up one. He estimated an Axis formation of over a hundred ships.”

  Tralis leaned over the table. “I suspected that might be the case. What I don’t buy is an ambush on my fleet while their grand fleet is hours away.”

  “I could have identified us,” Steros said. “If they’re scaling up operations, it makes sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t. What’s the likelihood of six cruisers waiting at the exact point where we planned our first holding pattern?”

  “Unlikely,” Babcock said. “In fact, I’d say impossible unless they were told.”

  Tralis thumped his fist on the table. “Exactly. We’ve got a mole in the Fleet. Command is investigating the operations center. Until we establish the source, all communications between us will be face to face. We can’t risk our movements being broadcast on our comms channels if somebody is passing them along.”

  “I’ll investigate the Chester,” Steros said. “If it’s one of my crew, I’ll flush them out. Trust me on that.”

  “Excellent work, Captain,” Tralis replied. “Join the other two destroyers in a defensive formation around my ship. I’ll call for you when I have further orders. Be prepared to move in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, sir. Will there be anything else?”

  “Great work in the Erebus system. You’re a credit to the Commonwealth.”

  Steros stood and straightened his jacket. He glanced at Babcock and back to Commander Tralis.

  “That’ll be all, Captain,” Tralis said and gestured his hand toward the door.

  The young captain paused for a moment before leaving the meeting room and heading in the direction of the internal hangar.

  Babcock smiled. “Credit to the Commonwealth? He’s… undesirable.”

  “I know. I checked the Chester's logs as soon as
he arrived.” Tralis remained stony faced and wheeled his chair around the table. “Listen, Babs, HQ are convinced the transmissions came from my fleet. We’ve searched all frequencies and can’t find a thing. I need your brain on this.”

  “You could start with Steros?”

  “He hasn’t got the intelligence or inclination. The Admiralty won’t move to counter the grand fleet until we’ve found the mole. Comb the data and see what it turns up.”

  Babcock held up his smart-screen. “I assume the ping I received when I boarded was a transfer of the comms logs?”

  “Correct. Work on it while your crew tracks the Axis grand fleet. We need to know their intended destination.”

  The casually delivered order increased Babcock’s pulse rate a few notches. It was the equivalent of asking Intrepid’s crew to do ancient crosswords while sticking their heads in the open mouth of a horan raptor.

  “You seem surprised,” Tralis said. “Your ship’s the fastest we’ve got.”

  “We’re only attached for a favor to Morgan. It’s risky. Too risky.”

  “Come on, Babs. Could I send Steros to hack their navigation system?”

  Babcock sighed and took off his glasses. “Squid Three is working on the latest encryption key. As soon as a single Axis ship spots us, we’re jumping.”

  “Excellent. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” Tralis pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “Good luck finding the mole.”

  Tralis headed for the conference room door.

  The marine outside swiped his tag and held it open. He remained in position after the commander had left and stared into the room.

  Babcock nodded an acknowledgment. At least he had the consolation of telling Intrepid’s crew they wouldn’t be working with Steros in the immediate future. But they were heading into danger that far outweighed dealing with an impetuous young captain

  Chapter Twelve

  Mach helped untether Beringer and Adira, the three of them now on terra firma. From this position, the city seemed even more impressive, the buildings taller than he first realized from their previous elevated position.

  When all three of them were free, Mach took point, checking his laser pistol was fully charged and ready to fire. A crackling noise came over his manacle. “Was that you, Kortas?” Mach asked, squinting against the sudden burst of white noise coming from his helmet’s internal speakers.

  “Carson Mach… must… source.”

  “What was that, Kortas?” Mach asked. “Source, as in heat source? The reception is terrible down here. There’s some kind of interference. You know of any EM field generation going on?”

  More white-noise static followed, and through the din he could just make out Kortas’ panicked voice telling him to find the heat source. Then, “The Saviors… looking… information soon.” The message cut off, and Mach shut down the internal speakers from the manacle to a whisper.

  “Adira, Beringer, you two hear me okay?” Mach said, looking at each of his crewmembers so that they could see that he was talking. Both nodded and replied with an affirmative.

  “So,” Adira said, “looks like our comms are good. Best to stay close.”

  “Of course,” Beringer said, alarmed. “You weren’t planning on having us split up, were you?”

  Adira shrugged. “I guess you could if you wanted to. You know how to fire a laser, don’t you, old man?”

  “Funny girl,” Beringer said.

  “Easy, Beringer,” Mach said. “If you want to stay safe, I suggest you just follow our lead. Make a note of anything you see that’s particularly interesting in terms of this creature… prints or marks on the floor, an architectural detail that may hint to us where the thing might be staying.”

  “Well,” Beringer said, turning back to face the cliff they’d just descended, “there’s these for a start.” He pointed to a series of scrapes within the rock. Each one separated by about a meter and a half—the long loping gait of something taller than the average vestan.

  “Great,” Adira said. “So this thing, whatever it is, can rock climb like a gambrian scaler. Let’s hope it’s not as venomous—or as stealthy; otherwise, we’re truly up shit creek without a fusion drive.”

  Beringer ran his gloved fingers through the gouges, using the inbuilt haptics to get a feel for things. “It has claws,” he said. “You can feel the uniform indentations in these foot and hand holds.”

  “Hooks that can dent ancient rock…” Adira said, her voice war weary. “That’s just great. This mission continues to get better. I mean, what more could we want, eh? Hidden frozen cities, some proto-vestan predator, and a planet-load of secrets. And there’s me thinking we’d be in and out, simple-as.”

  “When has anything been simple?” Mach asked. “Apart from getting yourself put into solitary on Summanus, that is.”

  “Perhaps we ought to continue the search?” Beringer said, stepping between Adira and Mach and smiling an awkward smile. “Time and essence and all that?”

  “Looks like the archeologist is eager for trouble,” Adira said, slinking away from the two men and heading across the rocky surface to the edge of the city, rifle at her hip, half raised, ready for action. “Well? You two coming or what? Or does the lady have to handle this herself?”

  “Stay in a close formation,” Mach said, stepping forward next to Adira. “No more than two meters apart, preferably much closer. Beringer, you stay between Adira and me. Your job is to observe, right? Any movement, anything odd, you speak up. Okay?”

  “Got it,” Beringer said.

  “Good. Let’s have it, then. Into the grim frozen city we go. Totally non-threatening, and not at all creepy. Nope, it’s just a nice, cozy old place.”

  The grip on his rifle tightened, and he led his two-man crew into the edge of the city, their steps slow and deliberate so as not to slip on the ice. Even with the crampon teeth of his soles, the ice was so thick and hard they didn’t penetrate more than a few millimeters. The HUD display showed him the overlay of the city he had committed to memory, the holographic 3D map giving him landmarks with which to orient themselves.

  He confirmed that they were heading to the main square of the city and the direction of the heat source, scanning left and right, his muscles tense and ready to act.

  Buildings with fluted pale-sand-colored columns and crumbling render on their front elevation towered over them, creating deep shadows between the narrow passages.

  Dead, green-black vines wilted over walls and crumbling bricks. Mach stepped over a number of them that had snaked across the ice-encrusted stone floor, the flags of which were cut perfectly, the mortar of choice between them glittering under the translucent frosting as though it were made of something alive.

  “Incredible,” Beringer said, scanning around, looking at every small detail, occasionally stopping to gaze closely at a protrusion from the side of a building. “Carvings,” he said. “Worn away by the ice over the generations. They’re like gargoyles from old Earth cathedrals.”

  Adira regarded them with suspicion and gently elbowed Beringer to keep him moving. Mach continued forward, staring into the abyssal darkness ahead of them. To their left, the side of a building stretched up for at least fifty meters or more. A gable overhung the top. Stone abutments held it aloft. Through the window, Mach thought he saw movement, but when he stopped and blinked to clear his vision, he realized it was just his movement shifting the shadows.

  They continued until they reached the end of the narrow alley. They came out to a wider street, at least wide enough to accommodate ten people side by side. Mach sighed quietly, relieved to be out of the oppressive darkness, although he didn’t like the open much more—it made it easier for them to become targets.

  Like the alley, the ground was made up of precise, interlocking stone flags—the edges sharp and the mortar lines accurate to within hundredths of millimeters. “Great engineers, these so-called Saviors,” Mach said, raising his manacle and sweeping it across the street so
that Kortas could get a view. The vestan Guardian didn’t respond through the constant stream of static.

  “What do you think these were?” Adira said, pointing up the row of buildings on the opposite side of the street. They were about two stories high with flat roofs. Intricate filigree ironwork surrounded the circumference of the buildings, making Mach think of the roof terraces back on Fides Prime.

  “Perhaps a governmental building,” Beringer said. “Given its aspect and central location, it would be ideal as a town hall or seat of government—or whatever these proto-vestans have as a hierarchy if anything at all.”

  “Any idea how old all this is?” Mach said to the archeologist.

  “I can’t be accurate yet. If I’m allowed to take a sample of the stone, I’ll be able to date it once we’re back on the Intrepid—I have my gear there. For now, I’d say, given the architectural style, that this predates anything I’ve seen of vestan culture by some considerable time. So much so, I would say this isn’t even vestan. Whatever that thing was that dragged the Guardian away might not even be the original species that dwelled here.”

  Mach’s manacle chirped and Kortas’ voice—faint and distant—crackled through the static for a few seconds. “The city is the original,” the Guardian said. “I’ve… with… Saviors. They built…”

  “So this proto-vestan thing,” Mach said, “is what exactly, a predecessor?”

  “Too early… tell yet… please hurry… time’s running out for Afron… mind corrupt…”

  “I hear you,” Mach said. “We’re on it.”

  The manacle indicated the end of the conversation.

  Turning to the others, Mach indicated the direction toward the heat source. “We’re going east from here,” he said. “At the end of the street, we’ll need to go left. Let’s stick to one side. Adira, you watch for movement on the left, Beringer, you’re taking the right. I’ll take the front.”

  The three of them took the formation and stuck to the left side of the street. They reached the end without incident and turned left into the next street. At the end of the hundred-meter-or-so section, they saw two narrow towers reaching up to the icy dome above them like needles. Between them, a metallic gate slowly swung open then shut, ringing out like a bell with each crash against the fittings.