Secrets of the Sphere (Battlecruiser Alamo Book 27)

by Richard Tongue

   “Aye, aye, sir!” the trooper replied, hastily assembling his men, shouting orders that sent them scattering around the perimeter. “Leave the equipment! We won't be able to carry it all anyway! Fox, take a squad and form an inner bastion around the shuttles.” Turning to Francis, he replied, “You think we can all fit on three shuttles, sir?”

   “I think we'll damned well have to, Ensign,” he replied. “All hands to the shuttles!”

   Crewmen raced from the perimeter, sprinting towards the waiting shuttles at the heart of the compound, abandoning their precious equipment and the outer trenches they had so laboriously dug, knowing only that they had to move, and move quickly. Harper looked around, the silence from the perimeter eerie, but she could feel something under her feet, vibrations under the ground, and she turned to Francis, knowing by the horror on his face that he could feel it too.

   There were forty-nine people on the surface. Nominally, each shuttle could handle fourteen, but nobody had any intention of leaving any of the crew behind to die. Technicians pushed their way onto the first shuttle, loading it beyond its capacity, and the hatch finally slammed shut with twenty crewmen on board, the ship struggling to lift under the load, her pilot easing her over the shaft to begin their trip to the surface.

   “Come on, Harper,” Francis said. “You're on Shuttle Two with the first wave of troopers.”

   “What about you, sir?” she asked.

   “I'll take Three.”

   “Like hell, sir, you're in command! Move it!”

   “Get out of here, both of you!” Rhodes barked. “If this is a ground battle, I'm in charge. And I say I want the two of you out of here!”

   Shaking his head, Francis led the way to the remaining shuttle, a trio of troopers standing at the airlock. Harper took a last look around the base as she moved to the hatch, and then the ground erupted, figures rushing from hidden shafts, surging through the ground and launching themselves at the nearest bodies, savage teeth and claws gleaming in the searchlights as the staccato rattle of machine-gun fire opened up. The first wave fell, the troopers ready, but there were ten more savages to take the place of each one caught by gunfire.

   Rhodes had been prepared, and the darkness lit with the fire of a dozen plasma balls crashing into the ground, the smell of burning flesh filling the air, mixed with the stench of cordite and blood. In the distance, Harper could see a luckless figure on the ground, two of the beasts tearing at him, before he fell with a bullet in the head, one of his comrades ending his suffering in the only way he could. She took a step forward, but a hand clamped on her shoulder, dragging her back to the shuttle.

   “Not your fight, Kris,” Francis said, pulling her inside, the troopers firing covering blasts as a wave of savages dashed forward, trying to catch them at the hatch. All around, the carnage worsened as the fighting continued, Rhodes struggling to organize a fighting withdrawal to the remaining shuttle, troopers breaking from the fight and racing to safety while the final reserve under Fox attempted to hold them back.

   Finally, the three troopers guarding the hatch dived inside, just as the pilot slammed it closed, and the shuttle lifted from the ground, thrusters playing around. Harper watched as the final seconds of the battle trickled away, watched as Rhodes led a final, desperate charge into the midst of the fighting as Fox pulled the last of the troopers into the waiting shuttle, one that was now launching light. She watched as Rhodes fell, caught by one of the savages, watched as her friend died at their hands, another merciful bullet slaying him at the last, as the final shuttle launched.

   And she knew that she had killed him, as surely as if she had pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 13

   Dawn came to the Sphere once again, the sunlight illuminating the rocks and peaks all around while Clarke watched, still wrapped in his blanket, looking out over the landscape beyond. There was no trace of the savages, no sign that they'd been in mortal danger the night before, and the buggy still sat on the desert sand outside, ready for them to begin a new day. Behind him, Jimmy stirred, pulling himself to his feet and walking over to the hydroponic tank, pulling out a bowl of green paste.

   “You want some?” he asked. “Tastes as good as it looks, but there's nothing else around here.” At Clarke's nod, he pulled out a second bowl, walking over to him and placing it on the floor. “Now that you've seen what you're up against, any more bright ideas?”

   “We've got to rescue our people,” Clarke replied, taking a bite of the paste. “This is truly awful, Jimmy.” It took all of his will not to spit the slime onto the floor.

   “You don't know how to quit, do you? Haven't you got the idea yet?”

   “How far from here to the flyer?” he asked. Peering up at the sky, he continued, “You think we can make it there and back before dark?”

   “Not a problem,” Jimmy replied. “That's more like it. You think you can fly it?”

   “And leave my friends behind?” Pausing, he asked, “Is there another way into the base?”

   Looking away, Jimmy said, “I'm not going back in there. Never again.”

   “Then you can stand guard outside, but if there's a way to get inside, I've got to take it. Damn it, I've got to know what's going on.” Gesturing at the photograph he asked, “Is that where your friends are?”

   Jumping to his feet, his breakfast hurled to the floor, Jimmy yelled, “Don't ever talk about them again! Not ever, you hear?”

   Taking a deep breath, Clarke said, “If you don't want to help me, then I'll leave. But if I do, you can forget about that ride out of here, forget about going home. Wherever home actually is.” He paused, then said, “You're with the Hegemony. I figured that much out. You realize they've tried to destroy Alamo, that we've fought with your people.”

   “They aren't my people. Not any more. They sent me out here to die, and left me to rot in this hell for months, years. If you want to shoot down their ships, that's fine with me, but we had a deal. You promised that you'd get me out of here. Just away from this nightmare. I don't care where. Not any more.”

   Rising to his feet, Clarke placed his hand on Jimmy's shoulder, and said, “Tell me. I've got to know. And if we're going to live through this and find a way out of here, I need to know.” Looking out at the desert, he said, “I intend to make one attempt to get them back. If it goes wrong, we're out of here, and you'll be sitting right next to me on that flyer.”

   “Corporal Thornton,” he said. “Though you can still call me Jimmy. I was part of a special operations group, a task force tasked with counterinsurgency work. There were five of us; we'd been together for years.” He walked over to the photograph, smiling at the cluster of people. “Sergeant Romero was our commander. Oh, we usually had an officer along for the ride, but they never really knew what we were doing. Pat ran the show. I was her second, deputy squad leader.”

   Moving back to the viewport, he continued, “It was, I guess, eighteen months ago. We had a report of a Hegemonic outpost gone rogue. We've got them scattered across the interior of the Sphere, research stations mostly, working on one task or another.” He sighed, then said, “This one specialized in genetics, established maybe six, seven years ago in an old underground complex.”

   “What happened?”

   “For the first couple of years, they sent in their reports, but that was as far as it went. Nothing more than that. Then there was some big discovery, a new human offshoot, and suddenly everything went very, very dark. Until the Government collapsed two years ago. A series of scandals, one after another, and we ended up with a change of administrations that revealed some rather alarming things in the files, buried deep.”

   Clarke's eyes widened, and he replied, “You're not about to tell me that the base is responsible for those creatures?”

   “No. As far as I know, they found them, deep underground, hiding away. Perhaps the results of some ancient genetic experiment, something like that. Al
l I know is that they were trying to find some way to control them, some factor to force them to obey orders. You can understand what that could mean. You've seen them fight.”

   “An army of those beasts…,” he said. “No, that doesn't add up. I mean, they're vicious enough, brutal, but a modern force would cut them to pieces. Or they could be taken out with some sort of aerial strike. Even if they were going to be used as shock troops, you'd have to get them out of the Sphere to do it, and I can't imagine how you'd corral them onto a starship.”

   “Who needs to get them out of the Sphere?”

   Clarke's mouth gaped open, and he replied, “They were to be used here? How?”

   “Clearance. To sweep everything for a few thousand miles clear. Like a plague of human locusts killing and looting their way across the map. Maybe someone would stop them, or maybe those bastards down there had some other way of keeping them under control, but the original idea was to carve out a space for colonization. Preferably with a lot of nice infrastructure already on site, ready to use. It's sick, twisted, but there's a certain logic to it. As long as you have a strong stomach. Mine isn't up to it. Though I think there's more going on than that, now.”

   “Why?”

   With a bitter laugh, he replied, “My people aren't saints. We've held another sentient race in slavery for decades, and I suspect we'd be more than happy to do the same here. You think our glorious leaders would think twice about launching that attack? The scientists on the base have just gone off-script, that's all. Decided that they'll do better working on their own than they will with the help of our so-wise-men back home. That's where we came in.”

   “You and your team? They sent you in to, what, capture the place?”

   “To destroy it. To wipe every part of it from the map, terminate the science team with extreme prejudice, and eliminate all evidence that it was ever here. That was our mission, and they loaded us up for bear to complete it.” He paused, then sat down on the nearest couch, and said, “That photo was taken just before we left home. We had a twenty-four-hour pass.” He smiled, then added, “We'd been together for years. One of their top teams. Hell, we were their best. And if they'd told us what we were up against, we might have had a chance.”

   “They didn't brief you?”

   “Maybe they didn't know everything. Didn't know how far they'd managed to get.” He sighed, then said, “We came in a Mark Three Transport. VTOL, larger than your flyer, more advanced, and able to avoid sensors. That much worked, at least. They didn't see us coming. Though it might have been better if they'd managed to shoot us down. Cleaner, anyway.”

   His eyes were cold as ice as he continued, “It went right according to the manual at first. We dropped in right on top of them. Got into the facility, and started to set the charges. Low-nuke, five-kiloton yield. Would have turned the whole mountain into a pretty satisfactory crater, and cleaned out the mess.”

   “Nuclear weapons on commando raids?”

   “The brass said they wanted overkill. I guess I can understand why, now. Anyway, I was on rear sentry, on the defensive perimeter. Then we heard the cry. A thousand of those beasts, all on the hunt, all heading right for us. Kit was the first to fall. She was on point-lookout, way down the corridor. She never had a chance, and she knew it, so she just stood there, in the corridor, taking out as many as she could to give the rest of us time to get away.”

   “How far did you get?”

   “At first we were able to keep ahead. Stripped down our equipment, just kept our guns, and ran back for our ship. By then, they'd found it, and they were waiting for us outside, more of them. So damned many. Thousands of them, tens of thousands.”

   Frowning, Clarke asked, “How could they possibly support so many carnivores out here?”

   “The base had a lot of carniculture equipment. I mean, a lot. Part of the experiments, so they claimed, though I guess the idea was to make sure the savages were well-fed.” He grimaced, and said, “Wish they'd left it at that.” With a sigh, he continued, “We were surrounded. Nothing else we could do except try and make it to the desert. Pat thought that they might not follow us, I guess, but she was wrong. Oh, God, she was wrong.”

   “How far did you get?”

   “Dmitri didn't even make it out of the base. He always was a clumsy bastard. Tripped on his own feet, caught in one of their hair traps, and they were on him before we could do anything. That bought the rest of us long enough to get out onto the rocks, and we started to run.” His eyes seemed distant, lost in the past, as he continued, “Then Myers fell. He was in the lead, and he tried to take a jump, fifteen feet. Lost his footing, broke his ankle.” Tears formed, streaming down his face, and he said, “We couldn't stop. He knew it. He killed himself before they could.”

   “Jimmy, if this...”

   “Then it was just me and Pat. We'd been together the longest. Hell, we'd fooled around a few times, always joked that we'd get hitched once we finished our tour. Maybe she wasn't joking. I don't know, and I guess I never will.” He took a deep breath, and he said, “They stopped at Dmitri for a few minutes. And we managed to take out a couple more of them, slowed them down that way. Back then they'd often stop for their dead. You can guess why. They don't as much, not any more.”

   “You think the scientists are still working on them?”

   “They want their damned army, but it won't do much good if it stops for a snack every time one of them dies!” He paused, then continued, “We made it to the desert itself. No idea where we were going, just away. There was a settlement a few hundred miles to the south, and we figured that if the savages stopped, then we could make it in a couple of weeks. They just kept coming. No matter how fast we ran, they were stronger, faster. We couldn't keep the pace.”

   “How did you get away?”

   “We reached the top of a dune, and made the mistake of looking back. Damn it, there were thousands of them, all heading for us. I fell. Slipped right down the dune, end over end. And crashed right into this wreck, the hatch open, intact. I called out to Pat, told her to run, to try and make it here, but they were too close.” He looked down at the deck, and said, “I couldn't force myself out there. Maybe I could have saved her if I'd tried. I couldn't leave the wreck. It took four tries, but I managed to close the hatch. And I spent the next week in here, before I dared to look outside.”

   “Did you find her body?”

   “I buried what was left of her, as deep as I could. I didn't want those bastards to find her.” With a deep sigh, he continued, “Now I just want all of this to be over.”

   Placing a gentle hand on his, Clarke said, “You came here to do a job. Do you still want to try it?”

   “Destroy the base?”

   “If anything, I'd say the stakes are greater now than they were back then. I don't know how we're going to do it, but I'm willing to make the attempt.”

   Looking over him, he replied, “Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look much like a special forces operative.”

   “I get that a lot. Among other things, I'm an operative with Triplanetary Intelligence. On occasion. I've done covert operations before.” Glancing out of the viewport, he said, “You must have charts of the facility, some sort of layout. If you can give me everything you have, then we might be able to find a way in. A chance to rescue my friends, and maybe finish the job you started. Alamo's well armed. One surface-to-surface missile could reduce that complex to ashes.”

   “Don't you understand? I can't go back there. Not again.”

   “We don't have a choice. Unless you want the deaths of everyone within ten thousand miles of this place on your conscience.” Jimmy looked stricken, and Clarke added, “The choice is yours.”

   “No, it isn't. Not any more. I guess I made my choice more than a year ago.” Moving over to the wall, he said, “Come on. I'll show you everything I have. Maybe we can work something out.”

&n
bsp; Chapter 14

   Salazar walked along the lonely, underground beach, looking at the vast lake stretched out before him. Billions of liters of precious water, all stored in the darkness, periodic drips from above. It must have been the work of millennia to gather so much from the arid air above. The rocky walls were covered in pictograms, some of them at least vaguely familiar, and he longed for a datapad to make an attempt at a translation. He couldn't help but think that the answer to all of this was buried here, somewhere.

   There had been no sign of anyone for hours, not any of his comrades, nor the savages that had chased him into the gloom. At this point, he'd almost welcome some sort of interruption, some sign that someone else existed in the universe. He kicked a stone across the beach, then glanced at his watch. Hours had passed. On the surface, it would be dawn. Though with the savages between him and the surface, he wasn't sure whether that meant anything.

   Then he paused, looking at what at first seemed to be an unusual rock formation, finally realizing that there were bones lying on the beach, the remains of a body that must have been washed up at some point in the past, a figure lying in repose. With the remnants of what could only be wings on its back. The body's hand was pointing in the distance, and he glanced in that direction, spotting an oddly smooth patch of rock. Not rock, but metal. Some sort of alloy.

   A smile on his face, he quickly jogged around to the indicated spot, and as he approached, he could see more pictograms scattered across the structure, and a long seam that ran down the middle, obviously some sort of hatch. Stepping cautiously towards it, he ran his finger down the gap, and a grinding noise sent him instinctively reaching for his pistol, taking a step back as the wall slid apart, revealing a gleaming bullet-shaped silver vehicle inside, pointed roughly in the direction of Base Camp.

   They'd theorized that there must be some sort of mass transport system. One look at the vehicle told him that he'd found it, a hundred seats inside. Looking to the right, his heart sank as he saw a ladder leading up to the shaft, and judging by the smell from the vehicle, it had obviously been used recently. He'd found a way back into the compound, but one that the researchers, and the savages, knew far too well.