Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27)

by Richard Tongue

   Reaching for a ration pack, Salazar replied, “We rest for a couple of hours, and do exactly what they want us to do. Once everyone settles in for the night, we'll go exploring.”

   “All of us?”

   “Not much point leaving someone behind.” Looking at the bag in his hand he said, “Ach. Chicken. Typical.”

   “If that's the worst thing that happens tonight,” Lombardo replied, “I think we will all breathe a sigh of relief. Got any ham?”

  Chapter 10

   The buggy bounced along the ground, Harper scanning the horizon with binoculars, looking for trouble, hoping to spot it before it could menace them. Corporal Burns was at the controls, focused on the dirt trail, one eye on the scanner to make sure they were following the track of the first buggy as closely as possible, while Sergeant Fox and the rest of the fire team held their weapons at the ready, covering the darkness.

   “Maqua to Harper,” the communicator parked, and Harper picked up a handset.

   “Harper here, go ahead,” she replied.

   “We've made contact with Team Twelve, Kris, and everything seems fine. That puts us about eight miles east of you. No sign of any trouble, nothing on the horizon, nothing moving at all.”

   “Good,” she said. “Let's hope it stays that way.”

   “We heard from the Neander in the forest, as well,” he continued. “They haven't spotted anything unusual, but everyone's keeping close to the village, and they've put themselves on maximum alert. They'll call us if anything turns up. We can't count on them for reinforcements, though. Too many lives at risk at home.”

   “I can't say I blame them for that,” she replied. “Have a safe ride home, Lieutenant. Signal as soon as you get back to Base Camp, and be ready to move out again if we need support. Out.”

   Turning to her, Fox said, “I thought Lieutenant Francis explicitly ruled out any reinforcements for us if we run into trouble.”

   “That depends on the situation,” Harper replied. She smiled, and said, “Besides, you and I both know that they'd come anyway, no matter what orders came from on high.”

   “Probably true at that,” Fox said. “Lieutenant, if he doesn't sign off on the rescue mission, what do you intend to do about it?” All eyes were on Harper, and she knew that everyone on the buggy would happily volunteer to remain behind to rescue their commander, at a single word of encouragement from her. Francis had brought up the specter of a mutiny, and Salazar was an extremely popular figure among the crew.

   “We'll work that out when the time comes,” Harper said, locking eyes with the veteran trooper for a moment. Both of them knew what that meant, and that if Alamo had to pull out without all of their people along for the ride, Harper and Fox would be staying behind as well. The ship could continue without them, but the prize at stake was too valuable to pass up.

   Assuming they didn't all end up staying. Monitor's crew had taken that option, had been forced into it by the destruction of their ship, and as far as anyone on Alamo knew, had vanished into the mass of the Sphere without a trace. Only a single signal from Flyer One provided a hint of what might have happened to them, and that just made it more important to follow up.

   “One o'clock,” one of the troopers said, gesturing at a shadowy shape in the distance. “That's one of our buggies. Infrared shows a heat signature. Power's still working, but I'm not picking up any warm bodies.” The man turned, grimaced, and said, “We're too late.”

   “We don't know that yet, Trooper,” Fox replied. “Quarter-mile. Are we going to drive all the way, Lieutenant?”

   “Might as well,” Harper said. “I'd rather keep the option for a rapid evac if possible.”

   “Agreed,” Fox said. “Get us to within ten meters, Corporal. And see if you can set up a data transfer from the on-board telemetry. That might tell us something.”

   “On it, Sergeant,” Burns replied, slowing the buggy as she drove them towards the distant shape. “For the record, we're about twenty miles from the ruins. We can probably see them from here. Maybe forty minutes and we could be there.” She turned to Harper, and said, “If, of course...”

   “If we don't find what we're looking for here, we'll go and take a look,” Harper said. “There are four of our people out there, and we owe them the chance to bring them home.” Pulling out her pistol, she added, “Bring up the searchlights.”

   A blinding beam swept across the plain, briefly illuminating the edge of the forest in the distance before focusing on the buggy. It didn't take long to see what had happened. The scattered bodies were testament enough to that. Fox glanced at Harper as their vehicle slowed to a stop, then gestured to her team.

   “Tactical deployment, on the double,” she said. “Establish a perimeter, but keep within the beam. We're not staying here any longer than we can help.” Turning to Harper, she added, “Just give us a minute, ma'am, and then you can come down.”

   Nodding, Harper watched while the professionals did their work, rushing forward into the gloom, each taking up a defensive position. She took the chance to look at the corpses, her eyes widening as she saw the scattered bodies around. They were human, at least after a fashion, but all had white hair, their teeth savage and jointed, jagged dagger-like nails on each hand. All were rangy, well-muscled, smeared with strange patterns of mud on their native form.

   “Camouflage,” Burns replied. “I don't see any weapons or tools, but they aren't stupid. That isn't just some sort of war paint. They knew what they were doing.”

   “We're set, Lieutenant,” Fox said, and Harper stepped down from the buggy, keeping a tight-grip on her plasma pistol, checking that the weapon was at full charge. She walked through the carnage, trying to ignore the devastation all around, while Burns launched a camera drone into the air to record the scene.

   “Get one of the bodies loaded onto our buggy,” Harper ordered. “Try and find one without too much damage. Our science and medical teams are going to want to take a look at them.”

   “Oh, God,” one of the troopers said, over in the far corner. “Sarge, this one's been eaten.”

   “Wild beasts?” Burns asked. “Out here?”

   “No,” a grim-voiced Fox replied. “There's blood on the hands of the body next to it. Lieutenant, these bastards eat their own dead. I've never seen anything like it.” She turned to Harper, and said, “You want me to look in the cabin?”

   “My job, Sergeant,” Harper said. She'd had a chance to prepare herself for the sight that met her inside the buggy, but even then, it still stole her breath away. The remains of the two Espatiers were scattered around the cabin as though tossed into a blender, scattered bones and blood everywhere, a savage orgy of slaughter taking place in the relatively recent past. One quick look was enough, and Harper stepped back, gesturing at one of the troopers.

   “There's not enough left to bury,” she replied. “Set a charge, Private. Nice and big. I don't want to leave this behind for someone else.”

   “Aye, ma'am,” the subdued Espatier replied, hastening from his position on the perimeter to complete his task. Harper pulled out her communicator, playing with the frequencies for a second, sweeping to the command channel.

   “Harper to Alamo. Do you read?”

   “Actual here,” Francis replied. “What's the story?”

   “Both our people are dead. Some sort of creatures attacked them. Human-derived. That's about the only way I can describe them. I must strongly recommend that full defensive perimeter be established in the area around Base Camp, and that plasma weapons be deployed on the double.”

   “That bad?”

   “Simmons and Malone took down more than thirty of the bastards before the died, and they just kept on coming. We're going to need the toughest defenses we can provide if we're going to see to the safety of our people.”

   “Are you recommending evacuation, Lieutenant?”

   “No, but we defi
nitely need to draw down to a single shuttle load as fast as we can. And certainly, no further expeditions without significant strength. We're going to push on to the ruins as soon as we're finished here, then head back to the barn.

   “I don't need to tell you to proceed with extreme caution, Lieutenant.”

   “Trust me, sir, after one look at this, you're preaching to the choir. We're just setting up some charges, and...”

   “Lieutenant!” Burns said. “Ten o'clock, something moving, multiple contacts inbound!”

   “Form up!” Fox ordered. “Prepare for volley fire! Grenades at the ready on my order!”

   “Harper, pull out now!” Francis yelled. “That's an order!”

   “Wait one,” she replied, raising her binoculars. She spotted a pair of figures racing towards them, both of them wearing Triplanetary uniform, and a swarm following at speed, more than a hundred of the same creatures they'd seen scattered on the ground all around them. “Leading pair are ours!” she yelled. “Suppressing fire! Give them some cover!”

   A loud whump echoed from the side, one of the troopers deploying a shoulder-mounted missile meant for armored structures, the warhead flying through the air to slam into the swarm with a resounding explosion. The rattle of semi-automatic fire echoed all around as the troopers helped their comrades to reach safety, sheets of flame in the gloom of the night, every man standing his ground despite the ravening horde heading their way.

   “Turn the buggy around,” Harper said, turning to Burns, “and gun the engine. I want her ready for top speed as soon as I give the word.” She raced over to Fox, peering into the gloom, and made out the features of Foster and Garland heading their way. “I guess only two of them made it.”

   “Let's hope this battle goes that well,” Fox replied, pausing for a second as the rest of the team continued to fire. “They're still coming. It's barely slowing them down.” She pulled out a cylinder, tossing it to the ground thirty feet distant, and yelled, “Flare!”

   The blinding light did what gunfire could not, and for a glorious instant, the approaching mass paused, as though terrified of the gleam from the flare. All too quickly, they continued their advance, sweeping across the terrain with nightmarish speed. Foster and Garland were just ahead, red-faced, gasping for breath, and as they approached the perimeter, Fox's well-trained men moved back, pulling in towards the buggy. There was no thought of holding this ground. Only of surviving the battle. Finally, Foster raced past Harper, Garland a single step behind, and the group withdrew to their vehicle, Fox almost pushing the medic inside as the rest of the men clambered on board.

   “Go!” Harper yelled, the last one back in the cabin, and the trooper wasted no time at roaring the engine to full, wheels skidding in the muddy ground as it struggled to get traction, skidding and bouncing its way across the terrain. Behind them, the horde continued to advance, almost keeping pace with the vehicle, and Harper turned to Fox with disbelief.

   “More speed!” Fox said.

   “We're overloaded,” Burns protested. “I can't push her any harder!”

   “Wait a minute,” Harper said, reaching into her pocket. “Soldier, did you set those charges?”

   “Yes, ma'am,” he replied with evident glee. “Frequency two-niner.”

   Pulling the master detonator out of her pocket, she selected the correct configuration, waited for the horde to draw close to the abandoned buggy, then lightly tapped the button, raising her other hand to cover her eyes as a tower of flame rose to the sky, an epic roar that swept across the darkness as a column of smoke raced into the air. Screams and cries echoed through the night as the explosion ripped into the surrounding creatures, and she turned to Fox with grim satisfaction as she replaced the detonator into her pocket.

   “Fire off a few bursts,” she ordered. “Just enough to give them the idea that following us would be a really bad idea. That ought to do the job.”

   “No,” Foster said, looking at Harper with death in her eyes. “It won't. They'll keep coming, and coming, and they'll never stop. They'll never stop. As long as one of them remains alive, you aren't safe. This is just postponing the inevitable. Nothing more than that.” She looked across at Garland, shivering in his seat, and said, “We've got to leave the Sphere. As fast as we can.”

   “The others?”

   Foster looked into the darkness for a moment, then shook her head, and replied, “They never had a chance, Kris. We only survived by luck, and it was about to run out when you arrived.” Grabbing her by the shirt, she added, “We've got to go, Kris. Right away.”

   “Salazar and the others are still out there.”

   Shaking her head, Foster said, “If they've run into the same creatures we did, then they're already dead. They wouldn't stand a chance.”

  Chapter 11

   Outside, night had fallen, several hours remaining until the shadows passed out of view of the sun. Salazar poked a dozing Lombardo, who jerked awake without a sound, and with a curt nod to Carpenter, he moved to the door, gently opening it, careful not to make a noise. He peered into the corridor, a cover story on his lips should a sentry be waiting outside, tales of a desire to investigate a strange, distant sound.

   What he did not expect was for such a sound to greet him as he opened the door, a keening wail that echoed from the corridors, a savage plea for help that tugged at him. Carpenter looked across at him, eyes widening, and gestured to the right, into a long, dark passage periodically

  illuminated by flickering overhead lights, bolted to the ceiling.

   It had been obvious from the first that the current inhabitants hadn't built the installation, that instead they were only making use of something already in existence, taking over an old, abandoned facility in the mountains. Idly, Salazar wondered how common that was, in a place as old as the Sphere, where civilizations must have risen and fallen a thousand times, leaving battered remnants scattered all around for future generations to exploit. The explorer in his soul smiled at the prospect, but as he looked into the darkness, fear overwhelmed his excitement, replacing it with a cold, menacing dread.

   “All clear behind us,” Lombardo whispered. “Where too, sir?”

   “Towards the noise,” Salazar replied. “It's the closest thing we've got to a lead. Keep your weapons at the ready at all times, but don't fire them unless you have to. And if you get separated, make your way back up here as fast as you can.”

   “And if we run into someone from the installation?”

   “Hide if possible, bluff if we must, shoot as a last resort,” he replied. “Come on. I'll take point. Art, you're on rear guard. Holler if you see anything. Carpenter, set your scanners on passive only. We don't know what detectors the locals are using.”

   “Aye, sir,” she replied, tugging out her datapad, draping the sensor pickup over her shoulder, poking out in front of her. “Ready to go.”

   With a nod, Salazar led the party down the corridor, faint echoes from their footsteps on the metal floors. The walls were featureless, aside from the cables draped from hastily installed hangers to service the light fittings. The metal looked conventional enough, but if the endless corridor was any indication, the base was huge, larger than anything he had ever seen. Periodically, they walked past doors, but Salazar resisted the temptation to look inside. None of them had any sign of recent occupation, and the trail of dusty footprints on the floor suggested that visitation to this level was infrequent at best.

   The wail resumed, another desperate cry, savage and brutal, yet at some level a desperate distress signal. Salazar glanced at Carpenter, who nodded, peering at her datapad, trying to analyze the sound. As the echoes dissipated, she frowned, poking the controls.

   “Nothing in the database matches, sir. Something local, inside the Sphere, at a guess.”

   “Agreed,” Salazar replied. “I think we're all on the same page, Lieutenant.”

   “Hey, wait one,
” she replied. “I'm picking up something. At extreme range. A low-level beacon signal.” Playing with her controls again, she added, “Triplanetary signature, pulsing Monitor's distress codes. Give me a minute and I'll get a fix.”

   “Orlova,” Lombardo said.

   “Maybe,” Salazar replied. “At the very least, it's the best lead we've had, and we're going to follow it. Distance, Lieutenant?”

   “Three hundred meters down, a hundred and twenty meters north. We need to find a shaft.” She paused, then said, “I think I can reply on the same frequency.”

   “No. Just in case it's some sort of trap.”

   “We're already confined to their base, Pavel. If they wanted us...”

   “Nevertheless,” he replied. “Right now nobody knows we've picked up their signal. If it is Captain Orlova, then she's waited this long. She can wait a few minutes more.” He gestured towards a space on the floor, a dark patch on the ground where the footprints stopped. “I think we've found our way down.”

   Leaning on the floor, Lombardo reached down and, with his fingernails, eased the hatch open to reveal a shaft heading down into darkness, a ladder bolted to the wall. Salazar peered down, and Carpenter reached her sensor feed into the gloom.

   “Just about right. A hundred and eighteen meters, all the way to the bottom. If I'm reading this right, we'll be pretty damned close to the beacon when we reach our target.” She paused, then said, “Which might mean that we're running right into a bundle of guards. What happens then?”

   Glancing back at her, Salazar said, “I'm not leaving now, not when we've got a definite signal to follow. We're going to see just how far this trail of breadcrumbs leads.” Peering down the shaft, he added, “Follow me.”