The Battle for the Solar System (Complete Trilogy)

by Sweeney, Stephen

  “I didn’t want any harm to come to you.”

  “I know, I know,” Kelly said, feeling a tear rolling down her cheek and fall onto the padded cell floor. She let go of his hands and wrapped them around him instead, hugging him tightly, despite his injuries. Enrique did the same, and there the two sat all alone in their cell, their fate still a great unknown. She soon became aware that he, too, was weeping.

  “It’ll be alright,” she said, stroking his hair. “Help will come.”

  Though she wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, Enrique or herself.

  XIX

  — The Littlest Things —

  Nanomachines. Estelle couldn’t quite believe the explanation. Thompson’s words seemed to have gone straight through her, and she found her thoughts colliding together and clashing off one another. She couldn’t think straight.

  Along with Chaz, she had settled down on the remains of a large plinth, making herself comfortable and only intending to close her eyes for a few minutes. Exhaustion, however, had caused her to slip into a deep sleep, though not one that was without its share of unsettling dreams. Things crawled all over her body and under her skin. She could make out their insect-like shapes as they burrowed and worked their way through her veins, itching as they wriggled about, searching for a good place to settle. She had awoken several hours later, feeling a little cold in what must have been the very early morning. Chaz, too, was blinking himself awake, appearing a little stiff after what looked to have been an uncomfortable sleep. Thompson had apparently remained with them the entire time they had slept. Now awake, she had gone on to explain all she knew about the soldiers.

  It had made little sense to Estelle. “Say that again,” she said.

  “I got the feeling that I’d have to,” Thompson said, screwing the top back onto her flask of water. “The Enemy – that is to say, the Pandorans – are all infested with nanomachines, tiny little robots that circulate around their bodies, travelling in their bloodstreams and living in their muscle tissue. It’s what gives them their superhuman strength and their incredible healing ability.”

  Estelle nodded, her thoughts beginning to realign themselves. “And that’s why they couldn’t heal when we used the mag grenade against them? Because the machines were disabled?”

  “Precisely,” Thompson nodded. “The pulse disrupts all electronic systems, including the nanites. It’s possible for them to recover, however, which is why we needed to act fast.”

  Estelle’s eyes strayed to where a pile of helmet-less soldiers were laid out on the ground. “But won’t they eventually get up?”

  Thompson shook her head. “No. As far as I understand, the … infected soldiers will never get up if they are shot through the brain or through the heart, or if the wounds are sufficient enough to kill them. We’re not altogether sure why, but maybe it’s impossible for them to heal. We’ve also noticed that if they take an incredible number of hits to the chest, then they won’t get up either. Some of the medics think it might be brain death, due to lack of oxygen.”

  Estelle stared at the bodies for a moment. “So, they’re still human?”

  “I know it’s hard to believe, but yes.”

  “So, why don’t we just mag them all the time?”

  “Believe me, we’ve tried. But it’s not really a workable solution. A, because we’re almost out of mags; and B, because it’s hard to coordinate such an attack in such a short space of time.”

  For a time, Estelle found it hard to look away from the bodies. Her eyes traced the features of the men and women, while she wondered about their pasts. They had been infected by machines. She still wanted to know more.

  “And no, it’s not contagious,” Thompson added, almost reading her thoughts. “At least, not outside of the Imperium. But that’s yet another thing that we don’t understand.”

  Estelle wondered who had told them all of this. Why had the Confederacy and the CSN kept such important information buried so deep? She asked Thompson, but the woman didn’t know.

  “I don’t think they’re going to have much luck keeping it all under wraps after what’s happened here,” Thompson said. “They can say what they like, but people’s oxometers are going to start freaking out after this.”

  “An oxometer?”

  “It’s a device used to measure bullcrap by the yard,” Thompson said, with a small smile.

  A loud rumbling noise interrupted, and Estelle turned to the big man who sat next to her on the remains of the plinth. Chaz looked a little uncomfortable and he straightened up, rubbing his stomach.

  “Do you guys have any food?” he said. “I don’t think I’ve actually eaten since yesterday.”

  “Sorry,” Thompson said. She rummaged around within the various pouches of her belt and pulled out something slightly bent, which she threw to Chaz. “Chocolate, non-melting. Enjoy that while I go and see what else I can find. I expect we’ll have more than a few spare field ration packs going …”

  The woman’s voice trailed off a little as she rose and made off in search of food, Estelle detecting a small tone of regret in her words. She sat in silence, contemplating the past year in light of what Thompson had told her. Not so much a puzzle as a patchwork quilt that she was finally able to start sewing together, the shapes and colours finally starting to emerge, forming a bigger, clearer picture.

  Dragon had been hijacked by those Pandorans, and they had done something to Hawke back then. She now doubted that the man had turned traitor of his own free will. Thompson might not believe it was contagious, but if it wasn’t then how had it infected Hawke? Either she was wrong or Hawke was an Imperial.

  “Estelle,” a soft voice said.

  She took her eyes off the black-suited bodies, to see that Chaz was offering her half of the chocolate bar that Thompson had thrown him. “No, thank you,” she said.

  “You haven’t eaten since yesterday; you’re running on empty. You need to get some food into you.”

  “I know, but I can’t have that. I’m lactose intolerant.”

  “Really? Since when?”

  “Since I was twelve. It just happened to me one day. I made myself a cup of tea one morning, drank it and then proceeded to vomit for the next six hours. Apparently, it can happen to anyone, just like that. I now put soy milk in my tea and cereal, which is probably why you’ve never noticed.”

  “Damn.”

  “Hmm.”

  The chocolate was withdrawn and Chaz began to chew on it, letting out a contented sigh as he did so. It didn’t sound like he was doing it to taunt her.

  She contemplated some more. It now seemed as though the refugees at Arlos starport weren’t just running from the troubles within the empire, but were being shipped out to avoid the infection. Hadn’t Kelly seen people aboard that freighter as the team had been making their way inside the port? She recalled the conversation that Dodds and Enrique had had at that time, recounting a bunch of rumours they’d heard the previous night, whilst playing poker. The Imperium had been wiped out, they’d said. She glanced across at the black-suited bodies again. Just rumours? She could well believe them now.

  “What are you thinking about?” Chaz said.

  “Dodds.”

  “Hmm. He’s a good guy,” Chaz nodded.

  Estelle remained contemplative for a time. “Do you think he’s still alive?”

  “I should think so. Don’t forget that he did save our lives three times in one day, last June. He’s a survivor, if sometimes an accidental one.”

  Estelle considered his words for a time, realising that he was right. The first time that Dodds had unintentionally saved their lives was when he had been getting drunk in the Officer’s Club, the night before the fated Operation Menelaus. The Knights had been pulled back to secondary defensive support, saving them from being killed alongside the other pilots that had made up the Initial Run. The second time had come in the morgue. That moment had been a little touch-and-go, but Estelle had managed to keep herself
focused long enough to gun down the soldier that Dodds had attempted to tackle. Had he not, at least one of them might have lost their lives during that encounter. Dodds’ final act had entailed him saving not just his four wingmates, but several thousand surviving crew members aboard Griffin, when he had turned on CSN Ifrit, spacing the enemy commanders and causing the opposing forces to flee the Phylent system.

  Chaz was right. The persistent vision in her mind’s eye of Dodds lying gunned down somewhere in the city faded a little. She listened to Chaz biting off mouthfuls of the chocolate and chewing it. Other than that, he was quiet, though she sensed that he too had his eye on the black suits.

  “Did you know?” she said eventually, turning towards him.

  “Yeah,” Chaz said softly, without meeting her eyes. “Yeah, I knew.”

  Estelle didn’t need to clarify her question; it was obvious that Chaz understood what she meant. “For how long? Did you know back at Arlos?”

  Chaz nodded.

  “So why didn’t you say anything?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, come on, Chaz,” Estelle said. Not this again. “What’s with the secrecy? We can’t do this anymore. Not after everything that’s been going on. We could’ve all been killed back at Arlos. All you had to do was to make it clear to us that that man wasn’t going to stay down.”

  “Have you ever made an error of judgement?” he said, finally turning to her.

  Estelle didn’t answer. Of course she had. Several times.

  “To tell the truth, I honestly didn’t think he would get up. I thought you might have critically wounded him and there wouldn’t be any further need to involve him at that stage. We had a lot more to worry about at the time and I had to make a fast decision. I screwed up, okay? I’m not at all proud of it.”

  “But what could’ve been more important to you than preserving your own life?”

  Chaz remained quiet for a while, then said, “Those of my wife and my son. I did it to try to protect them.”

  His wife and his son? “You did?”

  Chaz nodded, but said nothing.

  “I … I forgot that you were married.” She glanced at his hands. She couldn’t ever remember seeing a wedding ring, though that actually meant very little.

  “You didn’t forget,” Chaz said, popping the last piece of chocolate into his mouth and discarding the wrapper. “I just never told you.”

  “You two aren’t in the middle of another domestic, are you?” Estelle heard a voice come from behind. She looked about to see Potter arriving next to them. “I’ve just come over to find you.”

  “What happened to Thompson?” Estelle said.

  “She’s gone to grieve,” the brigadier said. “She lost someone very close to her when her unit was attacked … her fiancée.” He abruptly changed the tone, clearly not wanting to dwell. “Right you two, it’s feeding time. Come with me. We’re having ourselves a little buffet party over this way.”

  The two pilots followed Potter over to a group of men, seated in a circle around a small fire. Estelle noted some nods and greetings directed at Chaz as they approached. Clearly, the big man had made some friends during the firefight earlier. A smell caught her nostrils, one of nicotine, and tobacco smoke. She caught sight of one of the soldiers flicking the ash from his cigarette, before he lowered it down by his side, to keep the fumes from the others.

  “Find a seat and tuck in,” Potter said, nodding to the big sacks that an approaching soldier was carrying. He then turned about as someone began calling his name. “I have to go,” he added. “Apparently, there’s yet another thing demanding my attention. Sit. Eat.”

  Potter bounded off, and Estelle took up a place in the circle as one of the sacks of food was dropped close to the fire. A number of hands immediately began to delve inside, removing and inspecting the contents. Tin cans, bread, cereals, biscuits, and bruised and ruined fruits were lined up on the ground. Chaz snatched up a pack of bread rolls, removed a couple and then tossed the rest back on top of the sack.

  There were laughs and contented words from those gathered around the food, as the men began eating, trading a few friendly jibes at one another’s choice of first meal.

  “Ah! This’ll do the trick.” one said, pulling out a white container. “Dehydrated Chicken Pad Thai,” he read the label.

  “Any more?” another said, staring wide-eyed at the package.

  “Plenty.” he said, pulling out another of the containers and passing it to his colleague. He fumbled about some more and removed a metal box, into which he poured some water. Within seconds, it had begun to bubble. He finally put in the package containing the Pad Thai and sealed it. “In about six minutes, that is going to be the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” he said with a grin.

  “I can’t wait that long,” another said, rifling through the sack. He produced two rectangular foil-wrapped items. “Ah! Chicken and ham salad sandwich, and a cheese ploughman’s.”

  “Don’t eat both, you fat bastard!” one of the others pitched in.

  “Let’s be honest, guys – I don’t think we’re exactly going to be running low.”

  “True. By the way, thanks for your help earlier, you two,” one of the men looked over to Estelle.

  “No problem,” she managed, though she couldn’t help but feel that if she had made a greater effort, then the number gathered around the sack of rations would have been larger. She looked to the sack of food, seeing a number of food packages similar to the one that had already been pulled out. The smell of nicotine was still teasing her nose, however. She relented to it. “Sorry, but could I get one of those off you?” she asked the smoker.

  “Sure,” he said. He picked up the pack and tossed it over to her. “Lighter’s inside.”

  Estelle removed a cigarette and lit it, taking a good drag on the end. It felt good. Oh, it felt so good. Here was maybe why she had spent so many years feeling so stressed – she should never have given up smoking. She would now find a way to balance her fitness with her old habit. She blew the smoke out in satisfaction.

  “I never knew you smoked,” Chaz said to her.

  “That’s because I never told you,” she said, without looking at him. She took another drag and stared into the fire for a moment, before she felt a smile growing on her face. She then heard Chaz give a small chuckle. She turned to look at him, and for the first time found herself laughing along with the big man.

  Wow. She never thought she’d actually see the day.

  Chaz took something out of his pocket. It looked like a folded piece of paper. In fact, it looked like the tatty little bookmark she had often seen him using. He carefully unfolded it and gave it a brief inspection, before folding it up again and putting it away.

  “Didn’t you have that aboard Ifrit?” Estelle said.

  “I did, yes,” Chaz said.

  Estelle was sure he had abandoned the book itself in the bar. “Why did you keep that?”

  “It’s from my wife.”

  Really? That was an odd present to give someone.

  “Hey, pass me one of those MREs,” Chaz said to one of the men, who had removed a load of the boxes from the sack.

  “Meat or veggie?”

  “Meat. Chilli, if you’ve got it.”

  “Good choice. The veggie stuff’ll have you farting from now till next Tuesday.” He rummaged around for a bit. “Aw sorry, got no chilli. But if you’re after something spicy, then this green curry’ll do you.” The box was tossed over.

  “Thanks.”

  “So, you’re a pilot, eh?”

  The men started talking to Chaz, who responded in a far more open and relaxed manner than Estelle had come to expect of him. He took the conversation in his stride, answering in full sentences, rather than just the one or two words he tended to give.

  Estelle didn’t listen, her thoughts turning to Dodds. She wondered where he was, who he was with. Was he alive? Was he, like her, spending a night sharing a meal with a load of
strangers. Or had he joined the causalities that littered the streets of the city…?

  “You alright?”

  She raised her head to see one of the men was talking to her, through a mouthful of food.

  “You not going to eat? We’ve got tons left. There’s spaghetti, noodles, sandwiches, pork sausages and mash … Your mate there’s got a nice curry going on.” He looked to another of the circle. “Oi, Jenson! Give her your Pad Thai.”

  Jenson gave a colourful refusal and then lifted the lid of the cooking container, carefully extracting the pouch from within. He tore open the top, cursing as a jet of hot steam escaped and caught his fingers. He began to give the contents a stir, and the smell of the delicious food within hit Estelle almost immediately. It smelt good. Very good. She looked at the food pile that was rapidly shrinking. With everything that had been going on recently, her appetite had taken a nosedive – the need to survive the gunfire being aimed at her far more important.

  But now, with the alluring smells of chicken, spices and noodles teasing her nostrils, and with the food lying in front of her, she felt her taste buds beginning to yearn. Saliva began to fill her mouth. Hunger fought its way up from where it had been forced beneath her other needs. It demanded her undivided attention, and that was exactly what it got. Seeing what she wanted, Estelle lunged forward, snatching up a can of beans and sausages, grabbing hold of a fork and a bread roll at the same time. She tore open the top of the can and started to shovel the contents into her mouth.

  “Hey, you might wanna warm that, first!”

  “There’s one here you could heat, instead.”

  “Bloody hell, it’s like watching an art student in a café!”

  She heard the men’s voices commenting on her eagerness to feast, but she ignored them. It was only beans and sausages, but it tasted like the best meal she had ever eaten. Her stomach cried out for more. It was as if she hadn’t eaten for weeks.

  She popped the can between her thighs and bit into the bread roll. She could hardly believe how incredibly soft and flavoursome it was. She took another bite, swallowing that down as fast as the first. She then picked up the can again, seeing half the contents gone already. She’d have to get something else soon. Maybe she’d start cooking one of those dehydrated meals.