by Chris Fox
“Fire,” Hannan yelled. She opened up with her TM-30, aiming for exposed feet. Her target stumbled forward with a curse, planting his shield against the ground. She’d hit him, but not fatally.
The deeper report of Edwards’s TM-601 was deafening in close quarters, each round belching a foot of flame from the muzzle, as he sent a stream of rounds into the shield on the other side of the entryway. The Tigris carrying it was knocked backwards a step, and nearly toppled. Then another pair of Tigris leaped into the hall, a light-furred male helping to stabilize the shield. Edwards’s fire rang off it like a hammer hitting a gong. The bastards had brought portable cover tough enough to take a tank round.
“Cease fire,” she roared, but her voice was completely drowned out. Edwards stopped firing a moment later.
Hannan stared hard at those shields. Four Tigris huddled behind them. For now, they were at an impasse. She knew it wouldn’t last. The Claws would begin their big push soon.
21
Ancient
Nolan adjusted his visor, tapping the third button on the right to engage low-light vision. It amplified the ambient light leaking in through the tunnel, and lit the place like it was day. The walls, where they weren’t caved in, were covered in fantastic murals.
“How are these still here?” he asked, glancing at a particularly vibrant one on the wall next to them.
“The ancient Primo built their cities to last,” Lena said, advancing confidently up the corridor. She wasn’t wearing a visor, but then she didn’t need one. The Tigris were renowned for their night vision, which was part of why their boarding parties cut power in the vessels they attacked. “One of their techniques involved molecularly bonding ink to stone. It’s effectively part of the rock, sort of like the tattoos you humans use to mar your skin.”
“Interesting,” Nolan said. He kept pace with her, noticing the air was more stale now that they were further from the surface.
They passed under a wide domed roof, then into another narrow tunnel. Lena stopped abruptly, and Nolan bumped into her from behind. He took a step back, drawing his pistol from its holster. “Why did you stop?”
“Do you feel that?” Lena asked, barely above a whisper.
“No,” he said, straining to hear. Tigris had better hearing than humans, so he knew it was unlikely he’d detect whatever it was.
“There’s a low hum, just like I heard in the ruins on Mar Kona,” she explained, ears twitching atop her head.
“If it’s the same hum, then you think there’s an active power core down here?” Nolan asked.
“Possibly. We’ll have to explore to know for sure,” Lena started cautiously up the tunnel, and he followed with his pistol gripped in both hands. It was unlikely that anything threatening was down here, but it was best to be prepared.
“I do think there’s a power core. I’m almost certain of it,” Lena finally said. The tunnel continued to narrow until it was just four feet across. “I find that troubling. There’s no way the power source could have been on very long.”
“How do you figure?” Nolan asked. “This place is pretty remote. It’s deep inside a temple. Isn’t it possible that it’s just been overlooked?”
“No, it would definitely have been found. This world is inhabited, and these ruins are often explored. My graduate class came here as part of a class project,” Lena said, stepping over several stone blocks that had caved in and spilled across the floor. “Our teachers were quite clear. This place has long since been picked clean, by scavengers if no one else. If this power core had been powered someone would have located it.”
“Well, that’s more than a little terrifying,” Nolan said, piecing ideas together.
“Why do you say that?” Lena asked.
“Because if it came on recently, then something triggered it,” he theorized. “That same something must have triggered the ruins at Mar Kona. It may have triggered all the ruins that are being attacked by these new hostiles.”
The floor sloped down, and they walked in silence for a short distance.
“You’re probably right, and I see why that’s terrifying,” Lena finally said. The floor was leveling off, and it opened up to a wide chamber. “Look, over there.”
Nolan toggled the second button on his visor, which shone a soft red light in a wide beam across the room. It was dark enough here that even ambient light wasn’t enough to allow his goggles to show detail, but the addition of a little light made a huge difference. He could suddenly see the entire room, and what he saw was breathtaking.
The walls were carved with sigils, and reminded him of a trip he’d taken to ancient Egypt as a kid. He still remembered the Pyramids and temples he’d seen, and it staggered him to think that this place was five or six times as old.
“What’s this?” Nolan asked, walking over to a pair of wide, white doors. They were unmarked.
“A transportation device of some kind?” Lena asked, stretching out a hand to touch the doors. As her fingertips brushed them, they slid open with a soft hiss. Inside was a narrow box with unmarked walls.
“I think it’s an elevator,” Nolan said, stepping inside. Sure enough, there was a panel near the door with a series of symbols. “Can you read these?”
“They’re ancient Primo, of a dialect I’m not familiar with. They look a lot like symbols I’ve studied, but there are significant differences. I think they’re numbers,” Lena said, squatting next to the panel to study it closely.
Nolan leaned down and pressed the symbol at the bottom. The doors began to slide shut, and Lena took a step back. “Are you sure that was wise?”
“No, but we know we’re short on time,” Nolan said. He put a hand against the wall to stabilize himself as the doors slid shut and the car began to descend. “We have no idea how long it will be until the Tigris arrive, so we need to get in and out.”
“True, but we have no idea where this thing is taking us, or if the shaft below us is obstructed,” Lena said.
The elevator car jerked sharply, and there was a groan from the mechanism above. Nolan holstered his pistol, using his free hand for more balance. “Okay, maybe that button wasn’t the brightest idea.”
The car continued to descend for long seconds, then finally slowed. It lurched to a stop, and the doors slid open.
22
Hannan's Fight
“Edwards, it’s time for that special present,” Hannan yelled, emerging from cover just long enough to fire off a short burst. Answering bursts came from the Tigris, pinging off the stone near her head. Damn, they were quick.
“On it, Sarge,” Edwards called. He disappeared behind his column for several seconds.
Hannan used that time to lay down covering fire, this time from the opposite side of the stone block. The Tigris were waiting, and a burst of fire cut into the stone next to her face. A piece of shrapnel ripped into her cheek, and she fell back with a cry. That was more than a little too close.
“Fire in the hole,” Edwards roared, rising just far enough to aim a long bulky launcher at their foes.
There was a loud whump as the missile left the tube. It hurled towards the Tigris, who had almost no time to react. They ducked behind the tritanium shields, which was probably the best of a limited set of options. Hannan did the same, pulling behind cover. It was a wise decision.
A deafening explosion echoed through the corridor, drowning out all sound and popping one of her eardrums. It was like an ice pick through the skull. A wave of fire and heat passed over her a split second later, and had it not been for the stone block between her and that explosion she was sure she’d have been cooked.
Warmth spread through Hannan’s system as her armor gave her a dose of whatever chemical cocktail it thought would make her the best soldier. The pain from the shattered eardrum receded, and she rose into a half-crouch so she could peer over the stone block.
Judging from the tangle of bodies and the twisted wreckage of shields, the missile had detonated right between the two
Tigris who’d first entered the tunnel. Neither was moving, and their shields were bent and deformed from the blast. The other two Tigris, the ones who’d entered after, seemed to have fared better. They were stumbling out of the tunnel, back to their own ranks.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Hannan said, snapping her assault rifle up to her shoulder. She sighted for a moment, then cut down the closest Tigris. It went down in a spray of blood, giving a choked feline cry as it fell.
She was pivoting to take down the second Tigris when its chest burst through its back. The Tigris collapsed where it stood, unmoving.
“Nice shot, Mills,” she panted into the comm, light-headed. The chemicals were masking the fatigue for now, but she knew that wouldn’t last forever. This higher gravity was a real bitch, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she and her squad could keep fighting.
“Sarge, think that will drive them off?” Edwards asked. He was leaning against the fallen pillar, chest heaving as he panted out the words.
“No,” she said, planting her back against the block as she slid back into cover. “They’re Claws. They’ll keep coming until they’re dead, or we are. They never retreat.”
“What are we going to do?” Edwards asked.
“They don’t know that we just used our only missile,” Hannan said. She shook her head to clear it. The chemicals were helping, but not enough. Something warm and sticky was leaking from her ear. “Hopefully they’ll be cautious. That might buy us a little time.”
“I wish we had more missiles,” Edwards lamented.
She gave him a sharp look. “You realize there’s a reason we’re called the underfunded 14th, right? We’re lucky we had the one,” she said, more crossly than she’d intended. Pain made her irritable.
“You think we should warn the commander?” Edwards asked.
“Nah,” Hannan replied. She propped her rifle against the stone next to her and withdrew her canteen. “Warning him won’t help. He’ll be in and out as fast as he can. Let’s just hope the cat he brought can figure out whatever they need figured out.”
23
Vi
Nolan stood in the elevator for several long seconds. All he could do was stare, and from Lena’s slack-jawed expression she felt the same way. The room before them was a stark contrast to the level above. The white stone was pristine, the murals as vibrant as if they’d been painted yesterday. The high, vaulted ceiling was covered in stars, each glowing with enough illumination that his visor was no longer needed.
“This is everything I’ve ever hoped to find,” Lena said, stepping from the elevator. “Look at the shelves along those walls—those little square boxes? Those are Primo data cubes. This temple is beyond priceless.”
“How old is this place? And how did it survive?” Nolan asked, entering the room. He peered up at the ceiling, then down at a structure in the middle of the room. It was a small metallic pedestal, different from the rest of the room. This metal was a deep sapphire blue, with black prongs jutting from the top. He had no idea what it might be used for.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Lena said distractedly. She was standing next to one of the shelves, peering closely at the strange glittering cubes. “I’d guess at least twenty-six thousand years based on the ruins above. As to how it survived, I’d imagine this place was sealed until the moment we activated the elevator. Without a power core, this place just lay here…dormant. Not even air got in or out.”
“Wouldn’t that make the air here poisonous?” Nolan asked, recalling tales of ancient Egyptian tombs.
“Not if they had some sort of atmospheric scrubbers,” Lena said. She turned to face him. “They must have kicked on as soon as we started down the elevator.”
“That’s all great, and I know this place is important, but we need to find the proof the captain is after, and get the hell out of here,” Nolan said. As if to punctuate his words the room shook, and he heard a distant, muffled explosion. “We’re out of time, Lena. Whatever you’re going to do, do it.”
“Give me a little room to breathe,” Lena said. She paced back and forth for a moment, muttering in Tigris. Then she approached the pedestal and crouched next to it, fiddling with several gemstones set into the side. “This reminds me a great deal of the virtual intelligences I’ve seen in Primo libraries. The architecture is a little different, but the basic structure is the same.”
“This is a primitive version?” Nolan asked.
“No, just the opposite. This thing is far more advanced,” she said. A moment later the pedestal began to hum and she backed away.
Nolan drew his pistol, moving between Lena and the pedestal. The top began to glow with a clean, blue brilliance. Then a holographic figure sprang to life. The translucent being was familiar. Nolan had never met a Primo face-to-face, but he’d seen enough of them on vid to know what he was looking at. This thing was dressed oddly, but those too-large eyes and elongated fingers were unmistakable. Like all Primo, the hologram had a tiny mouth and no nose.
“Du ka son ta ke,” the figure said, giving a low bow.
“What’s that?” Nolan lowered his pistol, but didn’t holster it.
“This is a VI—a Virtual Intelligence,” Lena said, approaching the figure. “The Primo still use them today, for informational purposes. This one is older than any I’ve ever run across. It shouldn’t exist.”
“What’s it saying?” he asked.
“I’m not quite sure,” she said. “I think that was a greeting. It’s very similar to archaic Primo. Du kat sona means ‘good morning.’ I can’t quite understand this thing.”
“Mumba con ka?” the creature asked, blinking its large holographic eyes.
Lena didn’t answer. Nolan just watched, hoping she could figure out something useful from her conversation with the thing. He glanced at the elevator. That explosion could have been anything, but odds were good Hannan was involved. She hadn’t said anything over the comm, which he hoped was a good sign.
Nolan considered contacting her, but worried about distracting her if she was in combat with the Tigris.
“Ooka don. Vuka Spectra ballas,” the hologram said.
“Commander?” Lena said. Her tone was urgent.
“What is it?” Nolan asked, glancing between Lena and the hologram.
“I can’t make out everything, but those last words were unmistakable,” Lena replied, her ears twitching. She fixed him with those feline eyes. “Vuka Spectra translates directly as Void Wraith.”
“What’s a Void Wraith?” Nolan asked, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s an ancient Primo legend, something they use to frighten children,” Lena said. She turned back to the hologram. “Soko con Vuka Spectra?”
The hologram nodded, then extended a hand. Another hologram appeared next to the Primo, this one terrifyingly familiar. It showed a familiar vessel, its curved hull the same color as the base of the pedestal.
“It’s the ship we saw lift off from Mar Kona,” Lena breathed. “This VI claims that’s the Void Wraith.”
“At least we have a name,” Nolan said. He circled the pedestal, thinking. “Lena, you said this place is 26,000 years old right?”
“At least that old. I see where you’re going with this. If this thing hasn’t been disturbed in at least that long—”
“Then the Void Wraith are at least that old,” Nolan finished for her. “Whatever we’re seeing predates all known galactic cultures, even the Primo. Is there a way you can remove this VI and take it with us?”
“I think so,” Lena said, crouching next to the pedestal again. “It looks like this thing is housed in a Primo data cube. I can remove it, but we won’t be able to power it or access the data on our own.”
“Do it. We’ll figure out how we can use it later,” Nolan said.
24
Slug Fest
“The Tigris vessel is coming about,” Emo said. Dryker detected a note of urgency in his normally relaxed drawl. “Should we run, sir?”
“N
egative. Lieutenant Ezana, warm up the main cannon. Bring all turrets to a forward-facing position,” Dryker ordered. He gripped both arms of his chair, settling into the relaxed readiness that long exposure to combat had bred in him. “Emo, bring us about to match the Tigris attitude. Get ready for a forward attack run.”
The Johnston pivoted smoothly in space until it faced the Tigris vessel. The Tigris were accelerating toward them, but Dryker was ready for that. They’d attempt to grapple the Johnston. If they succeeded, the fight was over before it began. If they failed, the Johnston was still at an enormous disadvantage. They were playing a losing game, but he had to try.
“Lieutenant Ezana, target their aft launch tube,” Dryker commanded, keeping his tone smooth and even. Showing stress before the crew would be devastating to morale, and that was as dangerous as the Tigris themselves.
The Johnston began to accelerate, the ship shuddering as the engines heated up to maximum thrust. The Tigris vessel grew larger and larger on the view screen, until Dryker could see the trio of large black ports that made the Tigris so feared—the ones that fired the dart fighters that allowed the Tigris to land boarding parties in the middle of combat. The Johnston was still damaged from the last pair of dart hits they’d taken, back in the Mar Kona system, and the last thing they needed was another pair of holes. Not to mention a swarm of angry Tigris warriors prowling the corridors of the ship.
The two vessels were close now, or close when measured across the vast distances of space. A deep hum built in the bowels of the ship, then the gauss cannon fired. It was a devastating weapon, the pinnacle of mankind’s arsenal. Humanity had learned quickly that lasers were all but useless against ships that had been designed to withstand the stresses of a star’s internals—but those same defenses didn’t do much against a huge hunk of irradiated metal.
