Fires of Oblivion (Survival Wars Book 4)

by Anthony James

  “Nil-Far seems okay, though? For a Ghast,” said Chainer.

  “He’s not our friend, Lieutenant. He’s a competent officer in their navy and I’m sure he’ll follow orders. It’s the captain of the Kuidenar I’m concerned about.”

  “Do you think the new truce will survive if they destroy another of our planets?”

  “I’ve asked myself the same thing, Commander. I don’t see how it can. There’ll be people who know the truth, but even the truth won’t be enough for some. It would be a hard knock for the Confederation to take and I’m not sure I’d blame anyone who wanted to continue fighting.”

  “It’s a shame we need the Ghasts, eh?” asked Chainer.

  “For at least another two years, I’d say,” said Duggan. “I suspect we can replicate the Shatterer technology already and it’ll just be the matter of setting up a production line and modifying our warships. A few months and our fleet will pack a much bigger punch than it does now. It’ll be a while after that until all our suitably-sized ships carry them.”

  “Then we need energy shields and disruptors,” said Breeze. “I think your two years is on the optimistic side, sir.”

  “It may well be, Lieutenant. Time will be against us for the foreseeable future, though every step we take is something to applaud.”

  “From what Gol-Tur said about the Dreamers, it sounds as if they’re a bigger bunch of bastards than we first thought,” said Chainer.

  “He said little and implied a lot,” said Duggan, scratching his chin in thought. “The impression he left me with was that the Dreamers have an extensive empire. A very extensive empire.”

  “Now they’re coming for us.”

  “It seems like the Ghasts have never been the real threat at all,” said McGlashan, her eyes dark and brooding. “The war up till this point has only been to prepare us for what is to come.”

  There was something troubling about her words, as though she had a prescience that came to the fore at the most unexpected of times. “The Ghasts remain the most immediate threat, Commander.”

  “I disagree, sir. They might destroy Atlantis and they might not. I think that whatever the outcome, there’ll be no return to war between us. It’s these new aliens, sir – they are going to push humanity harder than the Ghasts ever did. We’re on a war footing now and everything we do is aimed towards advancing our technology and our hardware. When it’s over, we’ll look at this time and give thanks that we had the opportunity to prepare.”

  “When it’s over,” repeated Duggan.

  “I’ve got to assume we’re going to win, sir,” she grinned. “No warmongering aliens are going to get past us, are they?”

  “Absolutely not,” said Duggan. “As soon as we’ve got a thousand Crimsons in the fleet, we’ll beat the crap out of anything that comes through the Blackstar.”

  “Man, I’d love to be back on the Crimson,” said Chainer with a faraway expression.

  “Not the ES Terminus or Rampage?”

  “Nah, they had no soul. Maybe the second-generation Galactic class will have the soul. Don’t get me wrong – they’re solid enough. With a bunch of Shatterers and a set of stealth modules, they’d be a match for most anything this side of a Dreamer mothership. Until then, I think I’d prefer the Crimson.”

  “It’s not an option, Lieutenant - we’d better get used to it. The Crimson no longer matters. Things have changed and not just for me – for all of us. Since Admiral Slender was killed, we’ve been trusted with the top-rank missions and we’ve pulled through every time. That’s how it’ll be in the future. No more pissing about in a Vincent class and scrapping with Ghast Hunters – now we’ll be given the resources to go with our responsibilities.”

  “Does that mean I’ll get a pay rise?” asked Chainer.

  “Nothing more than your annual one percent,” said Duggan, not losing step. “What I’m saying is that we should congratulate ourselves for what we’ve achieved. This is our chance to shape what’s coming. We’re going to see the Space Corps’ new technology before most other people and I want us to be proud that we’ve been given the opportunity.”

  “I am proud, sir,” said Chainer. “I was proud even when we were on the Detriment. Everything that’s happened since makes me determined to be better than I have been in the past. I don’t want to let anyone down and whatever happens, I’ll do my best to beat whatever we come up against fair and square. If I can’t win fairly, I’ll fight dirty.”

  “Me too,” said Breeze.

  “And me,” said McGlashan.

  Chainer’s serious mood evaporated as quickly as it arrived. “A couple of medals wouldn’t go amiss, either,” he said. “I’m sure I deserve a handful after all the crap I have to put up with from you lot.”

  “Have I got the power to rank strip a Lieutenant?” asked McGlashan.

  “No, Commander, but I do. I can also recommend a pay freeze on the basis of poor performance.”

  “Since we’re safely at lightspeed, I think I’ll take myself off to the mess room for an hour,” said Chainer, pretending he hadn’t heard.

  The light-hearted end to the conversation had the desired effect and Duggan found he was able to put his worries aside for the moment. He was glad, since he had no desire to spend ten days with his mind endlessly turning. He realised he needed to find a better way to deal with the contrast between the high-adrenaline moments and the quieter downtime. The time in flight was meant to be spent recharging his batteries and calmly preparing for the sudden bursts of activity. In reality, the excitement was more often than not an escape from his brain’s restlessness and turmoil. There was only one person he felt comfortable enough speaking about it with and he brought the subject up in the mess room, late one morning.

  “I think it’s just how you are,” said McGlashan. “Are you worried about it?”

  “I don’t know,” Duggan admitted. “It seems like I can never find peace. What do you do?”

  She shrugged. “The answer is easy enough for me to say, though it probably won’t help you. I just don’t let it become an issue. Mostly, I read. You’d be surprised how calming it can be.”

  “I never liked reading much. Except for the stuff I’m required to read to keep up to date with the job.”

  “You should try it.” She gave him a knowing look. “In reality, you’re stuck with how you are, John. In peacetime, there’ll be other channels along which you’ll be able to divert your energy. Except there’ll be fewer highs and lows. You’ll be able to take each day as it comes and the decision on what to do will be yours alone. Here, you’re trapped, with little control over what happens and when.”

  “You’re right, as ever,” he conceded. “I like talking with you, Lucy.”

  “You should practise it more,” she said. “Outside of work.”

  He looked at her and saw the seriousness in her face. “I’d like that. I can’t promise when there’ll be a break from this.”

  She laughed. “We’re in demand!” she said. “We’ll be stuck on a ship every day for the next ten years! Denied every request for shore leave!”

  “No if I can help it,” he said. “It would be nice to have a life.”

  “The life you never had and never knew you wanted?”

  “The life I’m starting to think about more and more.”

  “Good,” she said, touching his hand briefly. “There’s hope for you yet.” She stood up and stretched. “That’s my time over. I’ll see you back on the bridge.”

  “I meant what I said.”

  “I know,” she replied, heading away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IN THE FINAL few hours before the ES Proximal reached Atlantis, the crew stayed on the bridge, uncertain what they might find when they exited lightspeed. If Gol-Tur’s estimation for the arrival time of the Ghast fleet was correct, there would be an extra day or two in which to prepare. Not that they needed extra time – a Space Corps warship was always ready for conflict. When Duggan considered the situ
ation, a part of him wished they’d arrive only a few minutes before the Ghasts. It would save a lot of agitated waiting.

  “Any time now,” said Breeze, letting the others know it wouldn’t be long.

  “The skies are going to be busy,” said Chainer. A couple of days ago he’d pulled up the locations of the other Space Corps warships and calculated which ones could reach Atlantis in time. There would be far more spaceships in the vicinity than the planet’s ground facilities could cope with. It was a good thing most warships could remain in flight almost indefinitely and only needed to land for refitting or to change personnel.

  “Here we go,” said Duggan, watching as the external sensor feeds settled down.

  “We’re two hours out from the planet,” said Breeze.

  “There’s nothing close to us,” said Chainer. “Checking the fars - it may take a minute.”

  A view of the distant planet appeared on the main screen – a sphere of lush greens and deep, beautiful blues. It looked tranquil as it rotated with imperceptible slowness. Its single, tiny moon showed as a light-grey circle far away to the right.

  “They haven’t got here yet,” said McGlashan. “Everything looks normal.”

  It was a relief but not one the crew dared speak about, in case by doing so they brought misfortune upon the place. They looked at the image, unable to take their eyes away from it. There was no way to discern what was in orbit using the naked eye and Duggan drummed his fingers while he waited for Chainer to speak.

  “What do you see?” he asked eventually.

  “I’m awaiting connection to the Tillos central comms network for the fleet warships in the area. In addition, we’ve had handshakes from twelve fleet warships so far, sir. There are likely to be many more as we come closer.”

  “What sort of hardware are we talking about?”

  “Three Anderlechts and nine Gunners.”

  “Not enough to take out one Oblivion,” said Duggan. “I’m going to take us towards Atlantis.” It was usual to scan the surroundings before making such a decision. Duggan was reassured there was no immediate threat, so he increased the Proximal’s speed to maximum and kept them pointed straight towards the surface.

  “Seventeen more Gunners, one more Anderlecht and the ES Terror showing up on the local network,” said Chainer.

  “Still not enough,” muttered Duggan. He’d seen the disparity between the latest Oblivions and the best the Space Corps could produce. He wasn’t sure there was enough firepower available to stop a pair of Oblivions if their captains were intent on destroying Atlantis. The Ghast battleships would certainly be destroyed in the process, but they didn’t need very long to launch their incendiaries. If they got close enough to the planet, they could ensure the deaths of billions.

  They were still an hour away when Breeze picked up the fission signatures of incoming warships. “There’s something coming, sir. Half a million klicks away from us – it’s big, whatever it is.”

  “One ship or several?” asked Duggan, looking over his shoulder at Breeze.

  Breeze blew out an audible breath. “Two ships, sir. They’re ours – the Archimedes and the Maximilian!”

  “They’ve sent the best,” said Chainer.

  “There’s no way they’d chance anything other than a full-scale response,” said Duggan. He was glad to see the Archimedes and the Maximilian, but was concerned they’d be nothing more than easy targets for the Ghast Shatterers.

  “Sir, I’ve got Tillos station on the comms. They want to speak to you. It’s Colonel Jabran.”

  “Fine,” said Duggan, indicating that Chainer should bring the colonel through.

  “Captain Duggan? You’ve have priority clearance to land and have been instructed to do so immediately.” The man’s voice was laden with the stress of the wider situation.

  “Who gave you those orders?”

  “They were put in place before you departed last time.”

  “There have been no updated orders in twenty days?”

  “None.”

  “There is no need for us to land.”

  “The mainframe will disconnect you from the local ship-to-ship comms network if you don’t comply.”

  Duggan felt like putting his head in his hands. The Tillos mainframe couldn’t prevent the Proximal from communicating to the other ships individually, but it could prevent access to the central comms network through which all the local fleet ships would coordinate their response to the Ghasts. It wouldn’t be a disaster, but would be an extreme inconvenience that could put the Proximal and other ships at risk. “Who is in charge of the Archimedes?”

  “Admiral Franks. She’s to lead the fleet against the imminent threat.”

  “We’ll be ready to land in less than one hour,” Duggan replied. “Colonel Jabran, I want you to find someone who can countermand those orders and I want you to do it immediately.” He made a cutting motion with his hand, to let Chainer know to end the connection.

  “Want me to speak to someone on the Archimedes for you?” asked Chainer.

  “Yes please, Lieutenant. I’d like to speak directly to Admiral Franks.” He sat down to wait. “I don’t plan to sit this one out on the ground.”

  “Sir, Admiral Franks is unavailable,” said Chainer. “The Archimedes has only been able to repeat the previous orders - we’re to land at the earliest opportunity and await further instruction.”

  Duggan gritted his teeth. This wasn’t what he’d anticipated to find on his return and he had little choice but to follow the last orders for the Proximal and hope he could obtain new ones before the Ghasts came.

  Over the course of the next hour, another fifteen Gunners broke from lightspeed, along with a further four Anderlecht cruisers. Duggan was sure they’d keep arriving, up until the very last minute. When the Ghasts arrived, there’d be enough Space Corps warships waiting to blow them to pieces. Unfortunately, it wasn’t certain if the Ghasts could be stopped before they were able to launch their own weapons at the planet.

  “The Ghasts are not going to get away from here if they decide to fight,” said Breeze. “Not that any of us want it to come to that.”

  “A fight would be the worst possible outcome,” said McGlashan. “The Oblivions are about the only thing capable of putting a hole in a Dreamer warship. If we knock two of them out because of a misunderstanding, it’ll cost both sides dearly.”

  They came ever closer to Atlantis. Duggan adjusted their course until they were in a rapidly-decaying orbit which would bring them quickly to their destination. The blue depths of the Tavan Ocean swept away beneath them, its size belittled by the speed of a modern spacecraft. After another few minutes, the Tillos base appeared on the horizon. Its mainframe connected with the Proximal’s and Duggan handed over direct control to the automatic docking systems.

  “We’re being taken into dock two,” said Chainer. No one was especially interested, but he felt obliged to go through the motions of keeping everyone informed.

  Duggan was stewing over what he assumed was incompetence somewhere along the chain of command. He pulled himself away from his dark thoughts. “What’ve they got down there?” he asked, only half-interested in the answer.

  “One ship - the ES Lightning, sir. It’s still in trench one. They must have forbidden any other landings.”

  “I’m not surprised in the circumstances,” said McGlashan.

  “What does the Lightning look like?” asked Breeze, peering at one of the feeds.

  “It looks ready to be stripped down and recycled,” said McGlashan.

  “There are plenty of people working on it.”

  “It’s always the same when a warship comes in. As soon as one’s on the ground, they’ll give it a thorough checking over.”

  “You can’t accuse them of cutting corners,” said Chainer.

  “No, you could never point that particular finger at them,” said Duggan, willing to give praise even when he was being badly treated himself. “There were times when the fu
nding wasn’t there, but you could always be confident the fleet warships were fully maintained.”

  The base mainframe brought them in fast. It was required to follow procedure, but it was permitted to break the rules in certain circumstances, such as when the inbound ship was damaged and needed immediate attention. The Proximal was in full working order, so Duggan assumed the existing orders dictated the highest-priority landing. Admiral Teron had likely been the one to leave those orders and he’d have wanted Duggan available for his next mission as soon as possible. Duggan huffed and puffed, watching as they dropped through the muggy air at speed, only slowing down at the last possible moment. The base computer was precise and they landed without a thump.

  “Now what?” asked McGlashan.

  “We’ve not had an order to disembark, have we?” asked Duggan.

  “No, sir.”

  “Patch me through to Tillos.”

  “I’ve got one of their comms guys here,” said Chainer after a short delay.

  “What are our orders?” asked Duggan.

  There were a few moments of confusion in the base control station. “I’m not sure, sir,” said a woman from the comms building. “We’re getting Colonel Jabran.”

  Jabran came a few minutes later. “What is it?” he asked testily.” The stress was getting to him.

  “We’ve been subject to a high-priority order to land and now we’re sitting on our behinds waiting to hear what happens next,” said Duggan, with an equal degree of impatience.

  “That would appear to be the case,” said Jabran. “There are no more orders.”

  “We can’t disembark?”

  “Not until I get the go-ahead.”

  “Can we take off?”

  “The mainframe will strip away your central comms access if you do so before we receive a follow-up order.”