“They’re still with us.”
“Our outer plates are beginning to soften,” said Breeze. “Any more of this and you’ll be able to stick your finger through the top few centimetres.”
“We have to lose them soon,” said Duggan. He didn’t like to rely on hunches, but he had a very strong feeling they were going to see some additional company in the near future.
“One hundred and thirty percent.”
“They’re as hot as we are, if that’s any help,” said Chainer.
“I’m relying on them having a structural weakness that we lack,” said Duggan. “If they’re burning, that’s good.”
The hull of the Crimson had gone from a dull glow to a bright orange and then to red. It ignited the atmosphere’s scant levels of oxygen as it went, leaving a trail of burning fire and smoke which stretched for hundreds of kilometres. The heavy cruiser burned as well. It wasn’t as streamlined as the Crimson, and its external struts glowed white with the heat.
“They’re melting,” said Chainer.
“So are we,” said Breeze. “That trail behind us isn’t all oxygen. We’re leaving our armour alongside it.”
“They’re not giving up,” said Duggan angrily. He wanted the enemy captain to blink first and break off the pursuit. As it was, Duggan was left with no other option than to push his own spaceship to the point of destruction. And beyond, if necessary, he thought.
“One hundred and thirty-five percent,” said Breeze. “The heat is pouring into the engines. We’ll lose output soon.”
“Two of the forward sensor arrays have alarms, sir.”
“Several of our missile tubes have melted shut,” said McGlashan. “We’ve lost those until we return to a shipyard for repairs.”
“Engine output falling.”
“I can feel it, Lieutenant. We need one last push.”
“One hundred and forty percent. Six hundred tonnes of plating just fell away.”
“The enemy ship is breaking up!” said Chainer excitedly. “They’re leaving a trail of debris.” His voice fell. “They’re not slowing down.”
Duggan held them at the same speed for a full minute. The hull temperature climbed another two percent and he realised the shape of the vessel must have been altered by the heat, making them less capable of cleaving smoothly through the air. It was now or never.
“Nuke them!” he said.
McGlashan gave the launch command, sending two of their nuclear warheads directly behind and four more into the surface below. Even in the low-oxygen atmosphere of Astorn, the warheads had a large blast radius. The enemy cruiser was engulfed in a mixture of white-hot fire and intense gamma radiation.
“I can’t see it,” muttered Chainer, peering at his screen to try and make sense of the garbled sensor feed. He gave a shout of excitement. “They’re leaving a massive cloud of debris behind them! Their nose temperature is off the scale!”
“Are they following us?” asked Duggan, loud enough to cut across Chainer’s words.
“They’re falling back, sir! We’ll be out of their sight in a few seconds.”
Duggan didn’t reduce their speed. The last thing he wanted was to misjudge the situation and have the enemy catch up again. He waited until they’d completed another quarter-circuit of the planet and then pulled back on the control rods. The Crimson climbed steeply away and the hull temperature started to drop.
“One hundred and thirty,” said Breeze. “We’re not out of the woods yet. There’s been a chain reaction in one of the underside engine sections. It’s going to burn itself out.”
“Can you stop it?” asked Duggan.
“I’m trying, sir.” Breeze grimaced to himself as he frantically issued commands to his console. “That’s it,” he said. “I’ve stopped it getting out of control.”
When the Crimson had flown many thousands of kilometres away from Astorn, Duggan gave the order he’d been fearful to issue. “Disengage the stealth modules. Send us to lightspeed as soon as we’re able. I don’t care where or at what speed. Just get us away.”
The power available to the gravity drives climbed to seventy percent, informing Duggan that the Crimson was no longer cloaked, whilst at the same time betraying the extent of the damage they’d suffered. If they’d lost much more of their engine output, the stealth modules would have failed. He accessed the full seventy percent in order to increase their distance from the planet.
“It’ll be two minutes, give or take,” said Breeze.
No one spoke on the bridge for a few seconds. Chainer was a man who saw silence as a challenge. “Those bastards are going to come racing out of orbit at two thousand klicks per second, aren’t they? Then, they’re going to launch six hundred missiles and a couple of super-missiles in our direction.”
Duggan didn’t have the heart to ask Chainer to shut his mouth, so he gave no response. The prophecy did not come to pass and the Crimson entered a medium lightspeed, heading in a direction that would take them to an unknown destination.
As he sat in his chair, Duggan closed his eyes and blew out the breath he’d been holding far longer than was comfortable. His emotions were mixed – there was excitement and there was also a trepidation which came with knowing how superior this new enemy had shown themselves to be. There was also pain – his spacesuit helmet was lying to one side. He couldn’t remember when he’d removed it – certainly it wasn’t easy to pilot a spaceship wearing one. The effects of decompression sickness crept into his joints and in his head, he could imagine them creaking as bubbles of gas expanded within his body. He looked his broken arm, still within the suit and tried to remember how long ago it had happened. It felt curiously pain-free, when he expected the painkilling drugs to have worn off.
“Where’s Corporal Weiss?” he asked. “I thought Ortiz would have sent her here.”
“She did, sir,” said McGlashan, looking puzzled. “She gave you a booster jab only a few minutes ago when we were in low orbit. You told her to go away. You didn’t tell us you’d broken your arm.”
Duggan grinned. “Well I’ll be,” he said. “I didn’t even notice her. I was too focused on what I was doing.”
“It’s the madness of command, sir,” said Chainer solemnly. “It takes everyone, eventually.”
“I can throw something at him if you like, sir,” offered Breeze. “In case you don’t want to risk further damage to your arm.”
“Well, folks, we’ve done it,” said Duggan, passing up on the opportunity to have Chainer struck by a flying object. “What exactly it is, I don’t know.”
“We stole a whole lot of data from them,” said Chainer.
“Can we access it?” asked Duggan. “I mean, the damage to the AI core hasn’t affected the integrity of the data, has it?”
“I doubt it, sir,” said Breeze. “There’s something wrong with the core, but I don’t think it should affect the memory banks.”
“Nevertheless, I want a copy made. Create a backup on the main data arrays. I’d rather have it twice than not at all.”
“I’ll do that at once, sir,” said McGlashan.
“Let me know once it’s done. I’ve got things to get on with,” said Duggan.
McGlashan fixed him with a stare he’d seen before. “There’s only one thing you have to get on with,” she said, deliberately avoiding use of the word sir. “You need to get to the medical bay and get that arm properly looked at. And what’s this I hear about a concussion and decompression sickness?”
Duggan could see the concern behind her eyes and he wondered if she knew just how close to death he’d come. Rather than making a flippant response, he met her gaze and nodded. “I got caught by surprise. I’ll go and see Weiss now.”
“What happens next?” asked Breeze.
“I haven’t decided yet, Lieutenant. In truth, I’d like some time to consider our options.”
“A few hours in the medical bay is what you need,” said McGlashan, pointing towards the bridge doorway. “Now go!”
Du
ggan went. Events had moved at such a pace since the raid on the transmission building that he’d not been able to catch up with what was going on elsewhere.
The medical bay was cramped, with only six beds, each dressed in pristine blue sheets. Barron and McCarty occupied two of the beds. The former had taken a shot in the arm, which he dismissed as a flesh wound. It was patched up and the man looked as if he would prefer to be elsewhere.
McCarty was in a bad way – he’d been shot twice in the abdomen and was lying on his front, exposing the two exit wounds from the gauss projectiles. The holes had been sealed with artificial skin, but the real damage would be to his internal organs.
“Will he live?” asked Duggan.
“He won’t die while he’s attached to that medical robot and nor will he wake up,” said Weiss. “If we reach a proper medical facility he’ll likely be fit to serve again in a few months.”
“How did he get back to the ship?” asked Duggan incredulously.
“Painkillers, adrenaline and willpower,” said Barron, his light tones concealing the pride he felt at the resilience of his fellow soldier.
Duggan sat himself upright on the third bed and remained still as a series of automated robotic arms began to poke at him. “Anyone not make it?” he asked.
“No, sir. This time we came back with the same number we started with.”
“That’s good,” said Duggan. He closed his eyes for a moment. Needles jabbed him in several places. His arm looked surprisingly normal – he assumed the painkiller contained numerous other inhibitors to stop swelling and infection. The injections continued, most of them in his arm. He was faintly curious about what each one did, but was content to let Weiss and her medical robots continue their work in peace.
After an hour or so, his broken forearm was heavily strapped. Weiss told him it was broken in several places, though expressed confidence it would heal properly.
“Come back at this time tomorrow for a check-up, and you’ll need to take it easy for a few days,” she said. “I’ve attached several mesh accelerants to your bone, which should have you back to full strength within the week. We’ve flushed you clear, so the decompression sickness is gone and your concussion wasn’t so bad – it won’t be an impediment to your command.”
In exceptional circumstances a Space Corps medical officer could temporarily strip a more senior officer of command. Duggan was glad he wasn’t such a case. “Thank you, Corporal,” he said.
“You’ll need to eat as well – those mesh accelerants will burn through your energy reserves quicker than you can put food into your mouth to replace them. If you prefer, I can provide you with a high-energy paste.” She wrinkled her nose, telling Duggan that he most certainly did not want to try the paste.
“I’ll give the paste a miss,” he said. “Am I free to go?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” she said. In the medical bay, Weiss was in charge and she had no need to call him sir.
Duggan rolled off the bed and stood upright. He half-expected to feel weak or giddy. In fact, he felt as good as new and he marvelled at the medical technology which could repair the human body so quickly and efficiently.
“Sir?” asked Barron. “Can I ask a question?”
“Anyone can ask me a question any time they please, soldier. You don’t need permission.”
“Where are we going to next?”
Duggan had made his decision not long before. “Listen,” he said and then opened a channel to the bridge. It was McGlashan who answered.
“Sir?”
“Commander, please instruct Lieutenant Breeze to change course and point us towards the Helius Blackstar. We’ve got what we came for and now we’re going home.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
“I’ll be back on the bridge in thirty minutes. Corporal Weiss tells me I need to eat.”
With that, Duggan left the medical bay and headed for the mess room.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
News travelled fast and it would have been no surprise to Duggan if he’d found the soldiers already talking about the planned return home. As it was, he found McGlashan waiting for him. She was busy exchanging gallows humour with the few humans and Ghasts seated around the room. While he waited at the replicator for it to assemble a plate of hash browns and cheeseburgers, Duggan heard a noise he’d never heard before – it was a loud, rumbling sound. He wheeled about and saw that it was Braler laughing at something one of the human soldiers had said.
“There’s hope for us yet,” said McGlashan, when Duggan took his seat opposite.
“I’m pleased,” he said with genuine feeling. “How long until we reach the Blackstar?”
“Forty hours, perhaps less. We’ve sustained a lot of damage. The AI can’t reroute the gravity drives while we’re at lightspeed. We’re going to be slow when we arrive.”
“What’s the good news?” he asked.
“The Planet Breaker is back online, along with the disruptors. We could take another shot at the hub.”
Duggan sighed. “It’s too dangerous – they may have a dozen warships there already. We’ve got what we came for and it’s time to go home.”
“You won’t get an argument from me. Getting home won’t be plain sailing either.”
“We may need to fight our way to the wormhole,” he said in agreement.
“I asked Frank to start transmitting the data we stole from Astorn, in case we don’t make it. We’ve had no time to sift through it so we don’t know what’s relevant and what isn’t. He said we can only send it in tiny packets because we’re on the backup comms.”
“Didn’t he say he had no idea where to direct the signal?”
“He’s still not sure. I think he’s guessing.”
“It’s usually better to do something instead of nothing.”
“It could take years to reach Confederation Space.”
“That’ll be too late to have a significant bearing on the outcome of the inevitable war.”
McGlashan smiled at him and Duggan felt his worries subside. “Hungry, huh?” she asked.
He looked at his plate and realised it was already half-empty. He pointed at his strapped arm. “Mesh accelerants. They like cheeseburgers.”
“I couldn’t stop eating when I was recovering from that shot I took in the stomach on Everlong,” she said. “It felt good being able to eat what I liked without the guilt.”
“We should be more like Frank,” he said with a laugh. “I’ve never seen a man pack away so much food.”
She lowered her eyes. “Do you still want that time away when we get back?” she asked.
They hadn’t really spoken much since the start of the mission to traverse the Blackstar and he realised he’d been neglecting her. He was limited by the requirements of his duty, but he knew he should have paid more attention than he had.
“More than anything,” he said. “I must be due about ten months of leave,” he said.
“Me too.” She looked wistful. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Ten months away from it all.”
“You’d be stir crazy inside two weeks,” he joked.
“Probably. I won’t know until I try.”
“Anyway, I want you to know that nothing’s changed,” he said.
“There’s another war to fight and it’s coming,” she said. “Let’s hope there isn’t an endless series of obstacles before us.”
“We’ll have to do the best we can with what we’ve got, Lucy.”
One of the things Duggan most liked about McGlashan was that she was irrepressible. Her face lightened. “Since you’ve finished your nineteen cheeseburgers, how about we start looking through that data we stole? I’d like to learn a bit more about our enemy.”
“There were only four cheeseburgers!” said Duggan in mock protestation. “And they were small ones.”
“Never mind the details. Let’s get to the bridge.”
“Fine, I’m coming,” he said. Something gurgled in his stomach a
nd he raised an eyebrow. “Corporal Weiss was right about how many calories I’d need. I’ll catch up once I’ve stopped off at the replicator.”
“You can use the one outside the bridge, now come on!”
Duggan hurried after McGlashan, his anticipation building at what they might find amongst the transmission data. He remembered Chainer saying they’d intercepted it before encryption, but he still had no idea if the information would be easy to read or it if would need a team of Space Corps analysts to make sense of. I won’t know if I don’t look, he thought.
Once he was comfortable in his seat, Duggan accessed the memory arrays containing the transmission data.
“This isn’t so bad,” he said. “Every message is contained within its own discrete package.”
“It’s just a shame there are so damned many packages to open,” said Chainer.
“There’re only a few hundred thousand,” laughed Breeze. “Enough to keep the Space Corps intel guys burning the midnight oil for a while.”
“Some of these transmissions are enormous,” continued Chainer. “The amount of traffic going through that hub was incredible.”
“It’s an ominous sign, if that’s just one hub out of many. The Dreamers could have thousands of populated worlds.”
“Subjos Gol-tur wasn’t exactly forthcoming on the history of his former people, though his information is going to be somewhat out of date now,” said Duggan. “Admiral Teron needs to pry the rest out of him.”
“We could have everything we need here,” said Breeze.
“Let’s get on with it, then. If anyone has a bright idea about how we can separate the dross from the good stuff, I’m all ears.”
Duggan opened a data packet at random. The contents were in an alien tongue and the Crimson’s language modules struggled to make sense of the characters. The Dreamers’ language had deviated significantly from the version the Ghasts wrote and there were times the translation was clearly inaccurate. Some things were obvious – there were routing codes, along with various other tags from the sender such as their name and location. Without a way of putting these into context, they had little meaning and it would take perhaps weeks of cross-referencing to paint a picture of where and how the enemy lived.
Terminus Gate (Survival Wars Book 5) Page 19
