Ghost Soldiers

by Michael G. Thomas

  "2nd and 3rd Squads, converge on the habitation dome. 2nd Platoon, keep your squads moving further back into the ship. Locate its power or control systems. Remember, we are looking for any signs of Orion's crew. Tag and seal anything you find."

  Acknowledgements came back quickly from each of the squad leaders. There were supposed to be three squads of fifteen Grunts in each platoon, and each platoon was commanded by one of the lieutenants fresh from Taxxu. Due to circumstances beyond his control, the two platoons now only consisted of fifty-five Grunts, but that was more than enough. Spartan's plan was simple. The twenty Grunts that comprised 1st Platoon would head towards the habitation area, the section he expected to find the most data from, and it was also the source of the signal. The larger number from 2nd Platoon would move through the rest of the ship to collect information.

  "Major, my 2nd Squad is still stuck outside," said Lieutenant Kipling.

  The voice of the commander of 2nd Platoon was as cool as ice, unlike most of the officers Spartan had dealt with. The man's experience of combat operations, and more important, of how things could and usually did fall apart was apparent.

  "Problem?"

  "No, Sir. The hatches were seized shut on the dorsal structure. 1st Squad is moving to the side of the derelict. We spotted a partially open landing bay, part of an abandoned cruiser. If they can get it open, it will give us better access to the ship."

  "Understood, Lieutenant."

  "There's something else, Major. We've passed multiple airlock units, but they lead on into the innards of the derelict. It definitely looks like they fused ships together, and a long time ago. Lots of the internal systems are still functioning. Everywhere we go, systems are activating, powering up doors, seals. There's one thing that is...well...surprising."

  Spartan paused, listening to the man's tone.

  "Go on."

  "We're detecting a partially breathable atmosphere in here. The co2 levels are high, but we could breathe here, just about."

  Spartan smiled.

  "So, if any of our people made it aboard, they could have survived."

  Spartan glanced at his own squad, imagining what it would have been like escaping to this ship, or being brought here under duress.

  "Very good, Lieutenant. Get your squad inside and stay in touch."

  Spartan moved around the large, pulsing section and to his surprise, found a much larger chamber splitting off into additional sections, the largest towards a bright light that blotted out his vision. Lieutenant Armstrong pointed at it.

  "That's the habitation dome. It's approximately two hundred metres inside."

  Spartan looked to the man.

  "There has to be something in here; signs of life, working computers, debris...something. This isn't just a hunk of metal drifting in space."

  Something destroyed our ship, I can promise you that much. Now where are our people?

  Spartan walked around the large flashing structure, but other than the light, it appeared to have no particular purpose. He completed two circuits while the rest of the squad scoured every part of the section. Finally, they all moved to the space behind it.

  "I don't like this. We will keep on moving and combine 1st and 2nd Squads at the dome," said Spartan, "Maybe that's where we'll find our answers."

  The squads separated, with half on each side of the passageway. They moved in pairs; one moving ahead, pausing, and then letting the other pass them until they did the same. It was classic cover-by-cover movement, and it slowed them down. Spartan was taking no chances, though.

  "Major, I'm detecting new transmissions from inside the dome. They are the same pattern as when Orion first detecting a transmission," said Private Watkins.

  Spartan checked his scanners and identified multiple sources of data. The streams appeared to be gibberish, but the intensity increased, and he was forced to deactivate two of his passive sensors.

  "Keep moving."

  They kept on until at the entry to the massive dome. Once inside the outer ring the light seemed to fade, and they could see how truly massive the dome was. Even Spartan was astounded at the vastness of the interior. In the past he imagined the dome would have been completely transparent, but years of dirt, corrosion, and wear had left it a variety of dull colours. There were still patches where stars could be seen, but they were few and far between.

  This place is old. Who lived here, and where did they go?

  * * *

  IAS Euryale, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

  The Alliance warship moved in her never-ending orbit around the derelict. Though safe from anti-personnel weapons, they were easily within range of line-of-sight weapons. By keeping at this distance, there would at least be time to activate the automated turrets to despatch incoming projectiles or missiles. Distance and velocity would be little defence against direct-energy weapons, if the derelict had the capacity. Based on its age, there was no way of knowing what weapons it might carry, only the evidence that something had obliterated ANS Orion.

  None of this mattered to Khan right now. He paced on the deck, waiting for news from the vessel. Like Spartan, he was warrior first, a commander and leader second. At times like this, he would much rather be wandering around the derelict with blades out and looking for enemies. Through the communications hardware built into his armour, he could see live feeds from the derelict, but the longer they were gone, the more irritable he was becoming.

  "Captain...Khan, we're got something up here," said Captain Delatorre.

  The officer clearly sounded uncomfortable using Khan's new rank. Even so, Khan ignored his tone, stopped his pacing, and listened carefully.

  "Go on."

  "A signal. It began as soon as the Major reached the habitation section. I've sent the data directly to Major Spartan. Comms think it is..."

  The audio cut for a second and returned a moment later.

  "We're receiving a major infiltration attempt on our systems. It is vast, varying in pattern, and relentless. A polymorphic brute-force attack."

  Khan snorted.

  "Techno babble. Just cut off all contact with the connected systems, local and remote. Leave nothing but communication from the operations level and to the virtual presence units. No matter what happens, we have to keep the Grunts connected, but disconnected from the ship management. No connection, no control. Disconnect all of our networked ship systems from operations."

  "Understood," said Captain Delatorre, "I'm severing connections between ground command and the ship. All communication will have to be over the audio network. It's over to you now."

  The man's voice cut and then returned over the speakers fitted throughout the ship.

  "Battle stations, we are under digital attack. Marine units to your defensive stations, weapons systems active; we are at digital defence alpha."

  The defensive measure was something experimented with during the war with the Biomechs. The more advanced a ship became, the more reliant its systems became on their networked infrastructure. With so many systems and operations being time critical, there was no way to run a ship without the involvement of complex computer systems. Data packets ran throughout the ship, passing orders and data between systems as varied as door controls, engine coolant, propulsion, and life support. When it worked, it was fast, secure, and efficient. But if the system was comprised, it could allow an enemy almost unlimited control over a ship. That was why so much time and money had been spent to ensure systems could be compartmentalised in an emergency. A dull groan ran through the hull, and the artificial gravity and engines deactivated.

  "What the hell!"

  Khan was off the ground and heading for the wall. He braced his muscles as he crashed into it. His bulk left indentations in the material. Khan spotted others drifting about and quickly activated his EVA boot clamps. With a reassuring clump sound they attached him to the wall, and for now it seemed it was actually the floor. He looked about, spotted the wall intercom, and moved closer.

  "This
is Captain Khan, what's going on up there?"

  The responding sound was a high-pitched whine that was then replaced by the voice of Five-Seven.

  "Something got to the powerplant control system. It's been purged, but the system will be back online soon."

  Khan hissed back through his teeth, "Spartan needs to get back. This isn't right. There's something off. Is this what happened to Orion?"

  He looked left and then right, checking none of his people were badly hurt. Some were already helping other marines to safety, and at least one was busy attaching a bandage to another. He'd seen the same happen a hundred times before, but never with an enemy he could not see or detect. There was something out there, and it was attacking in ways they were not ready for.

  "Prepare to move away from the derelict. We need space between us."

  "Affirmative, Captain. Propulsion units are partially active, moving to a wider orbit. Wait...uh...they are activating their weapons."

  Khan swore to himself as he worked his way back down to the deck. It was a struggle, but it didn't take him long. He stopped at the next intercom and keyed it again.

  "Very well, Captain. Just remember, we have people inside that ship."

  He stopped and looked back at the marines, all of which were readying to enter the tubes. Khan shook his head.

  "No, Spartan will have to deal with this on his own. The priority is to keep Euryale safe. If the ship falls, then so does every Grunt on the derelict."

  He licked his lips in anticipation of violence.

  "Get yourselves ready for conventional combat. If anything tries to come aboard, well..."

  He began to chuckle to himself.

  "They'll really wish they hadn't."

  * * *

  Spartan took one more step inside the habitation dome. The lighting was a confused mess of bright flood-lamps from parts of the dome and the light from the marines. This still only provided light to less than ten percent of the area around them. He stopped and looked down at a shape on the ground. For a second he was confused, and then realised what it was.

  Bone and decayed clothing.

  He bent down to touch the bones, but restrained himself upon seeing how much of the torso had been crushed. Few of the bones were intact, with most crushed into smaller sections, and some little more than dust. The cloth was barely visible, just a few sections and lacking colour or discernible shape.

  "Sergeant, what do you make of this?"

  Sergeant Tyler bent down alongside him and then pointed to multiple crushed bones.

  "You can see a print there about twice the size of my hand, three toes, and they were heavy. Looks like a machine was in here, or something in a heavy armoured suit."

  He straightened his back and turned around, still pointing to the ground.

  "Something was here, and it wasn't one of these people."

  The scanners of the suit were already running a full analysis of the material in front of them. Spartan couldn't help but notice the atmospheric levels in the ship were beginning to level out due to the vast outpouring of air during their initial breach. To his surprise, the computer was already stating the levels were close to being breathable. If necessary, he could let his suit filter the air directly to his respirator.

  Why? Is this an automatic system for when the ship is occupied?

  His gut instinct told him that it wasn't the ship that had made a decision.

  Something killed the people on this ship.

  Lieutenant Armstrong called out, and for a moment thoughts of the dead left his mind.

  "Major, we’ve got an operational system here."

  The officer was to the left and flanked by a pair of Grunts, both scanning left and right, looking for signs of danger. The interior of the dome was a mess. Large bulkhead sections reached up to the top of the dome and a multitude of broken metal walls, walkways, and electronic systems. It looked more like the remains of a junkyard than the area that would have been used to house thousands of people.

  "Good work."

  Spartan moved up alongside the officer and looked at the unit. It was large, nearly two metres tall and hexagonal in shape. There was a large crack in the outer surface, yet it still seemed to function. When Lieutenant Armstrong touch it, the unit flashed and blue icons and images appeared. One in particular continued flashing in the centre, surrounded by white dots.

  "Press it."

  Lieutenant Armstrong hesitated, so Spartan reached forward and moved his robotics hand into position. As soon as it reached the surface, the flashing icon vanished and was replaced by a semi-transparent video feed. It was of very poor quality and with low light, much like the habitation dome was right now.

  "There," said the Lieutenant.

  Both of them could see shapes on the right of the large display. They moved slowly, and then a third almost completely filled the screen. It was a person but inside a puffed up suit, much like some sort of EVA unit. A green light flickered at the head, but the imagery was much too noisy. Then it turned to the left and a high-pitched screaming noise drowned out everything else. One bright flash ended the screams, but not before freezing the silhouette of something massive.

  "What...the...hell!"

  Spartan stepped back in horror at what was before them. The bright flash had lit part of the location, and now he could see it was a section of the habitation dome, but it was in good condition. Walls were intact and covered in the flowing blue energy they had seen on their way in. The figure in the suit was on the ground, and in the background other shapes were running about. None of that had Spartan's attention; instead it was the massive shape, bigger even than Khan, yet without discernible form. The limbs were blurred, and its head seemed sunken or even missing. There was no colour to it, and parts were almost completely transparent.

  "I think we can assume that that thing is what finished off the crew."

  A long whistling sound filled the habitation dome, and they immediately recognized it from the imagery.

  "It's back," said Lieutenant Armstrong.

  Both men moved back into low stances, their carbines raised and looking for signs of danger. The others did the same, each operating silently, but on command via their networked communication. Spartan was the first to see it, and if it had been any other man, he might have frozen, but he watched in stunned silence as the distorted shape moved along the far wall. The scenery shifted in shape and detail as it drifted past, like droplets of water running down vegetation.

  "Safety off, get ready."

  Fifteen Grunts activated their carbines simultaneously. Spartan watched their power levels reach operating levels in less than a second. These were the first batch of the production models XC1 carbines. The power level had been reduced fifteen percent, to give a longer firing time, reduced charging requirements, and allow more of the weapon's mass to be given over to cooling.

  "Major, b...!" Private Watkins yelled.

  The Grunt exploded in a flash of silver and blue, sending shards of shattered robot in all directions. The wall to its right blurred once more, and a shimmer flashed in front of another Grunt. Again it was ripped apart. Sergeant Tyler took aim with his carbine and pulled the trigger.

  "Open fire!"

  Pulses of energy released from the carbines as all thirteen remaining warriors fought back. Some were lowered down to their knees, but three were still upright. The guns were powerful, and each blast burned holes through plastic and metal alike. The screaming sound filled the dome, and Spartan's internal speakers automatically lowered the volume to little more than a distraction.

  "Form into fireteams, separate and support."

  Just as they had been trained, the squad quickly split apart into three smaller units. As they did so, the fireteams used their lamps to light larger parts of the domed structure. Parts of the ceiling broke away and crashed into the middle of one team, and as they jumped aside, the thing arrived. Spartan took aim, but there was little to aim at, just the blur, and then two more Grunt
s were gone.

  "Khan, we're under attack by something..."

  More light flashed and sparks flickered along the ceiling. An arc of energy leapt over a hundred metres and exploded upon hitting a bulkhead. It then flashed back and struck another Grunt. It shuddered, twisted about, and collapsed to the ground, pumping smoke.

  "...something unknown!"

  Three of the Grunts ran back and slid behind the vertical computer unit. A blur of energy ripped down towards them and smashed it apart. The three machines scattered from the blast and returned fire. One rolled over, and even as it righted itself, it was shooting. Spartan smiled at the skill on display, even if they appeared to be having little effect on the thing. More of them were entangled with the blur, making it impossible to open fire without hitting friendly units.

  Screw this.

  Spartan knew what lay before him, remotely piloted machines, not people. He pulled the trigger and saturated the area, hitting the light distortion, as well as one of the Grunts. Each blast from the weapons struck with incredible heat, itself enough to burn through and vaporise almost any material.

  "Bring it down!"

  The other Grunts joined in, with the unfortunate fireteam in the middle taking three more casualties. Superheated blasts of green matter blasted limbs off the Grunts, or punched holes into the ruined interior of the dome. Some must have struck the distortion, yet there was no slowing it down. Another Grunt lost a leg and dropped to the ground, and then the thing was gone. Spartan ran to the right and slid down alongside a fallen comrade.

  "All units dig in. If it moves, kill it!"

  The shape moved off behind structures that looked like hydroponic units, though each was now little more than a dark mess, and only dust and marks remaining of whatever had been there before. Spartan tracked the distortion, realising where it was going.