Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  His hands moved like lightning, desperately fighting to contain the security breach. At the same time, he called out to other crewmembers to perform an emergency lock down. Captain Dutch was taking no chances and grabbed the intercom.

  “Battlestations, this is not a drill. Battlestations!”

  The emergency lighting changed as always, then flickered and returned to normal. Even as Lieutenant Meyer made changes, he could see system after system rerouted or locked down. After another panicked five seconds, he looked back to the Captain, his face now dripping with sweat.

  “Something got into the computer system. I’ve never seen...hell...nobody has ever seen an attack like this.”

  “What have we lost?”

  The Lieutenant didn’t answer; instead his attention focussed on the locked view on the mainscreen. It showed the ship in front of them, and icons were flashing up all over the vessels as numerous systems activated.

  “Their own systems are coming online. I’m getting readings throughout their ship.”

  He glanced at the Captain and then remembered his initial question.

  “Our engines are down; life-support has been disabled.”

  Captain Dutch was stunned at the news.

  “What? How? Do we still have communications, weapons?”

  Lieutenant Jones was moving through systems in a similar manner to Lieutenant Meyer, and she looked just as shocked. She shook her head while continuing to work with what little computer power remained.

  “No, Sir, all communication systems have been disabled. The system has been rerouted and is running additional routines....I will...”

  The imagery flashed and then vanished in front of her. Captain Dutch looked around the deck in frustration.

  “Somebody get a lock on this. I want networking disabled between systems; tell me what we have right now.”

  Lieutenant Meyer was already running through logs and data pathways until finally he slammed his hands on the computer system and leaned back and sighed as though content with his work.

  “Right. I’ve locked it down.”

  He turned around completely to face the Captain.

  “There’s one hell of a complex, polymorphic algorithm inside our primary core, and it is working away like a Trojan. I’ve isolated it and cut off power to the systems it has contaminated. Even so, those systems will need to be purged manually from engineering.”

  He licked his lips.

  “Until then, we’re stuck with artificial gravity, manoeuvring thrusters, and partial weapons. Switching on our main drive system or life-support would give it further access, and who knows what it could do?”

  Captain Dutch blinked slowly, taking everything in.

  “All right, good work, people. Lay in a course away from the derelict. I want us as far away as possible. Prepare an emergency data buoy. We’ll launch it as soon as possible.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  A number of white lights flashed on the mainscreen, but with most of their systems offline, there was no way to assess what they were. For anybody watching that one area, they could have been little more than the glint of light from the derelict. They were nothing to do with light, but in fact the opening salvo from the vessel. Only when the first volley of hardened slugs ripped into the bow did the crew know what was happening. The projectiles were the size of a man’s fist, and easily punched through the armour plating and embedded inside the hull of the ship. Less than a second later each of them exploded, sending a cloud of super-heated matter out in all directions.

  “They’re firing! We have to...”

  Those were the last words of Lieutenant Meyer before one of the projectiles hit him in the chest. His lifeless body was slammed against the inner hull and then the round exploded. The material vaporised his body and fused bone directly to the deck. There was no time to mourn his loss, as more rounds punched inside. Automated sealant systems kicked in to repair the damage, but the ship continued being hit, and chunks of the vessel ripped out with each shot.

  “Bring us around, weapons free,” said Captain Dutch.

  Any other ship captain might have been panicking by now, but not him. Captain Dutch had seen his fair share of combat, but he knew this was different. Out here, so far from home or help, left him in a dangerous position. One serious piece of damage to his ship would leave him stranded, and he knew exactly what a ship’s chances were in that scenario.

  “Turn everything on the derelict...let the bastard burn!”

  Lieutenant Jones took the place of the dead Lieutenant Meyer and sent orders to the remaining automated systems. ANS Orion was a powerful ship; that much was obvious. But unlike others in the Alliance arsenal, she was no brawler. Both her bow and stern gun turrets swung around and began unleashing a veritable storm of projectiles against the target. These were quadruple 20mm coilgun mounts, perfect for destroying incoming missiles or fighters, but little more than harassment against larger ships. It was impressive to see, but only caused surface damage to the ship. The primary anti-shipping weapons of her class were her missile tubes, also known anachronistically as torpedo tubes.

  “Firing.”

  The Liberty class missile destroyer carried a total of eight anti-ship launchers, each carrying multiple reloads. Six were launched; two tubes failed completely. Instead the automated infiltration routine worked its way deep inside the launch guidance system. Firewalls should have kept out the intrusion, but it smashed its way through in seconds, and then activated the fail-safe on their missiles. This was a procedure that even the crew should have been unable to do, at least not without direct physical access to the systems. Without one being launched, they exploded where they sat. An entire mission module, a full one third of the ship’s weapons capacity vanished in a white flash that shook the shop. Huge pieces of debris and malfunctioning missiles struck other parts of the vessel, and in less than thirty seconds, internal fires were burning in a hundred different places.

  The remaining six missiles flew to their target and exploded on impact, sending large chunks of debris into space. As the debris cleared, the derelict looked little worse for wear, and her large amount of extra ships attached to her primary hull served as an effective layer of ablative armour.

  By the time the Alliance destroyer unleashed her remaining arsenal at the enemy ship, over half her crew was dead. The first lifeboats were already trying to escape, with many shot down as they tried to get away. Some were engulfed in explosions, as more sections of the ship were lost in catastrophic blasts. The entire hull was now burning from the internal damage already sustained. At the same time, the derelict responded with firing its weapons continually at the bridge, as well as to the smashed superstructure near the lost mission module.

  The battle between the two vessels was like a battle between two wooden ships, each effectively operating at a fixed point in space. There was no romance in the bloody battle, however, and crew were being cut apart by the second. The last stage of the fight did not last long. By the time the last lifeboat was ejected, ANS Orion was nothing more than a hulk, another large piece of metallic flotsam to drift along the long lost derelict.

  * * *

  The Black Rift, Centauri Alliance

  The newly recommissioned IAS Euryale moved to the entrance of the Rift with no pomp or ceremony of any kind. She bore the same name, but her allegiance to the Alliance had been removed, along with her experimental moniker. Instead of classed as an Alliance Naval Ship, she was now simply an Interstellar Assault Brigade Ship. The Brigade part of the name had been dropped to maintain uniformity in the fleet. Other than the exchange of letters, she was painted and marked up in just the same way as the other warships. Even the font for the name was the same as used in the fleet.

  At her flanks circled a pair of Liberty class destroyers, the standard escort ship in the Alliance; powerful ships in their own right. They had not returned from the operation at Spascia, and were instead part of the growing contingent posted to the Black
Rift security force. From where Spartan was standing on the main deck, he had the perfect view of the Rift.

  “Home.”

  Spartan said it quietly, almost as though he wanted nobody to hear. Five-Seven looked over to him. For the first time, the alien was wearing Alliance Navy Auxiliary insignia on a harness across his chest. There was little point in clothing or armour, as the entire race of Thegns had been created to be entirely self-contained soldiers. This harness was little more than a webbing system, but it did help Five-Seven and the other many Thegns fit into the ship’s complement.

  “Yes, home,” Five-Seven agreed.

  Spartan smiled at the Thegn. They often seemed little more than children when it came to their understanding of emotion and the subtleties of communication. He barely even noticed Captain Delatorre sitting further back and overseeing the command of the ship. It was the only solution to having Thegns on board, and though a complication, it seemed to be working. Five-Seven would technically be unable to be in command of a warship, not until he completed the rest of his training, but he could operate as the Captain’s executive officer, or any other role among the crew.

  One thing Spartan had learnt since the war was that the Thegns were quick learners, and the next best thing to having machines run the ship. There was a reason Thegn crews were earning such a reputation in the merchant navy circles, even amidst the bitter racism and xenophobia present there.

  Although not his idea, the creation of the separate branch of the military was perfect for the odd situation in Taxxu. Unlike the regular Navy, the Auxiliary was a civilian-manned fleet, made up of vessels to supply the Alliance Navy with fuel, ammunition, and supplies; as well as to transport Marine and Navy personnel and equipment. Some of the ships were retired warships, the majority dominated by alien transports and freighters, who under the authority of the Navy Auxiliary had been granted a new lease of life. Those serving in this new fleet were expected to work under Naval discipline, just as they were aboard IAS Euryale.

  In any other part of the Alliance, one might have expected to see dozens of civilian ships waiting to watch the return of powerful military warships. That wasn’t the case this far away from civilization. The Black Rift was a long way from the worlds of the Helions, and even further from any of the human worlds of the Alliance. There was also the issue of the ship being part of a new, relatively secretive part of the Marine Corps. Few would want to publicise the arrival or departure of such divisive figures as Spartan, or that members of the crew were Thegns. The ancient domain of Taxxu was the perfect location to base a high-speed assault force, well away from prying eyes.

  The handful of escorts waited near the Rift as IAS Euryale left the Helion System. The ship moved through slowly, vanishing from view as it re-materialised an impossible distance away and deep into the home system of the defeated Biomechs, Taxxu. With the enemy long gone, it was now the domain of the remaining Twelve, led by On’Sarax, the leader of the ancient rebels. Though technically the domain of The Twelve, On’Sarax and the others were only interested in the survival of the few that remained, as well as a peaceful solution to the vast numbers of Thegns still in storage. They had granted full military access to the Alliance, on the one condition that The Twelve were guaranteed both freedom and protection. With the wisdom and technology of these ancient beings offered freely, there were few who would argue against the secretive agreement, or against Taxxu becoming one of the newest and most unlikely star systems in the Alliance. With just one intact planet and a number of moons, it would seem to be of little interest. But that was just a minor detail. Taxxu was far enough away from everywhere else to be the perfect location for military science and engineering projects. Spartan recalled a news article he’d heard recently and smiled.

  The workshop of the galaxy, some are calling it. And what was it? The site of the last battle of the war. All of this began because the four of us made the deal with On’Sarax.

  He shook his head, recalling that meeting. It had been short, but the principle was simple. The four of them would ensure On’Sarax and her people would be kept undisturbed, and they would control access to anything she would show them. It gave them leverage, and now the four owned the controlling share of the Special Weapons Division.

  Incredible.

  They moved out of the Spacebridge and into the completely different star system. Just the one vessel came through, but ever since the action on Karnak, the Taxxu System had been transformed, and now it was one of the best-defended sectors in the Alliance. IAS Euryale was a veritable hive of activity. Dozens of support ships moved back and forth to the entrance, and a space station sat in orbit over Taxxu Prime. It was only partially assembled, yet well underway, with the long fingers of docking arms already complete.

  “Enough space to dock an entire battle group, right here.”

  Five-Seven waited until he’d finished speaking.

  “The training facility on Z’Kanthu is well under way now as well.”

  The alien nodded off to the right where the largest of the planet’s moons could just about be seen. It had been renamed by the remaining Twelve, in honour of their fallen leader, and was now the focus of the rebuilding process in this region. Spartan was still amazed at the change in the place. It had become a bizarre amalgam of human and alien, and was perhaps the most diverse place in the entire Alliance. Of all the structures around the planet, one more than any stood out. The monolithic Kha’Dri World Ship was the largest vessel in sight, the home of the Special Weapons Division created by CTC, and now fully under Alliance control.

  “Good work, everybody. Let’s get her docked, and get our feet back on Terra firma,” said Spartan.

  He turned away from the mainscreen and the imagery of the World Ship and made for the door. Though in charge of the ground element of the operation, Spartan had no involvement the spacecraft part. He left that to the Naval and Auxiliary personnel on board.

  “Affirmative,” Five-Seven replied.

  The ship had been described by one Alliance Captain; as looking like a bastardised assault rifle. It was true. The experimental X-45 Confederate class of warship was nothing as aesthetically pleasing as the Crusader class before it. Even so, the new class of ship had something far more military and foreboding about it. As it moved further from the Rift, it followed a series of marker buoys that signalled the newly designated shipping lanes to the shipyards.

  Nobody would ever accuse the ship of looking unwarlike. Her lines were predatory, as were her vast number of weapon mounts that covered her from bow to stern. Like the rest of in her class, she was over four hundred metres long, and would weigh over eighty thousand tons in Earth standard gravity. The vessel passed a docked Liberty class destroyer, and only then did the vast bulk and sheer ugliness of the ship become clear. Whereas the older ships had smooth and obvious lines, the Confederate class was more of a work in progress. The middle section was filled with grooves, which could be hiding hangar doors or weapons. The bulbous bow was hidden behind the long antenna and gantries, extending out as though the ship was unfinished. The most unusual and off-putting part was not the weapons, or the hull, but instead the drive system. The entire rear of the ship was taken up by a massive pair of rings, specially designed to assist in the creation of the distortion of space-time, and making near light-speed possible.

  With a single and final course correction, the ship moved onto its docking vector, closer and closer to the World Ship. A single group of Alliance fighters did a quick pass overhead, checking the configuration and details of the vessel before it could move to close to the massive vessel. Even they might have been surprised to see the newly painted lettering on her hull. Gone were the traditional Alliance markings. This ship was now clearly part of the independent Interstellar Assault Brigade.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Drone control continually evolves and is at the forefront of scientific development. It is not simply enough to be able to manage, control, and issue orders to robotic war mac
hines. It is also imperative that the enemy is unable to do the same. A conventional warship or fighter is as loyal and reliable as the men or women that crews it. The single biggest argument against massed use of drones in warfare was this one, ever-present fear. Could a battalion of computer-controlled warships or foot soldiers be trusted to remain loyal? Ultimately, this would result in the AI Amendment Laws being introduced in the Alliance. The one most significant legal change was that no autonomous machine could be armed, to prevent machines ever being able to turn on their creators. This led to the renaissance in virtual presence robotics, exemplified in the form of the CD1 Grunt, a quantum leap in technology and created by the Special Weapons Division.

  Robots in Space

  Kha’Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance

  The journey from Spascia had been a long one, and the return to Taxxu was something Spartan had been greatly looking forward to. Just over forty weeks ago he’d been on Karnak with a handful of his machines, and now the Brigade was well on the way to being an actual entity, and one that could help make a difference in times of peril.

  Almost there!

  The outer door remained shut, but already Spartan knew the ship was docked and her mooring clamps fully connected. For anybody else, stepping out into this ship might seem strange, but not to him. Spartan had travelled the galaxy and made his home on planets, moons, and ships. This place was little different to him. Except out here he was in charge of his own destiny, and even better, he had his friends around him. A final seal clunked, and the door began to open up.

  Finally.

  Footsteps behind him announced the arrival of several of the marines, as well as the huge form of Khan. Spartan tilted back and nodded.

  “I see you finally made it. Thought you’d nodded off back there.”

  Khan grumbled just as the ramp dropped down, and the interior of the warship was bathed with bright light. All of them lifted their hands to cover their eyes for a moment, waiting for them to adjust.