Jupiter's Halo: Unbroken

by A P Heath

  The thought both frightened and angered her. More so she was angry at the deaths of her comrades. They were her family, every one. She was badly wounded and her efforts to harm the boarders seemed to have been fruitless, but there were still six of her team left alive, she hoped, and that meant they could fight back. Maybe the others already were.

  She had to reach Hornwood to warn him, to tell him what she’d already learned. A head shot should be enough to take down any foe, but if it wasn’t they’d just have to go all the way to taking these ones apart.

  Let’s see them get back up again with their legs cut from their bodies.

  Her comm link was still down. No doubt the impact with the

  corridor wall had jarred or damaged it in some way. That could mean a bleed on her brain, but that was a worry to get to after the immediate danger was dealt with.

  The station had its own comm system, although the age of its construction meant it was hard wired into the structure and she’d have to find a comm panel to use it.

  Iasa tried to remember her review of the station complex. Prior to boarding she and the rest of her unit had memorised the layout and major junctions of the station.

  She was sure there was a comm panel in the recreation suite, but she couldn’t remember which room. A cursory glance around her ruled out the one she was in.

  That would have been too easy, she thought bitterly.

  The recreation suite was made up of three rooms. The first held the simulation ring, the second the games and rest section and the third was the major of the three, attached to the mess.

  She was in the second and couldn’t remember seeing a comm panel on the occasions she’d gone into the first to use the ring, so her best bet was the third. It was the largest of the three and likely the most used back when the station held a full component of techs, so it was the logical choice.

  Iasa raised herself to a sitting position, or at least tried to. The attempt left her dizzy and nauseous and she slid back to the floor after a moment, her arm and head resting in the cooling vomit she’d deposited there only moments before. Her only option was to crawl. It would be slow going and would leave her incredibly vulnerable should she encounter any more of the group that had boarded them, but what other choice did she have?

  Iasa reached out a wet, sick covered arm and began to pull herself towards the door and the corridor beyond.

  It was slow, incredibly slow, but the area was blissfully empty. She dragged herself painfully out into the light of the curved corridor and sighted the entrance to the next of the recreation rooms.

  There was a thin line of grating along the outer edge of the corridor. It wasn’t much, but the small holes offered a better

  grip for her fingers than the bare metal of the floor.

  By fingertips she pulled herself along. The doorway was open, five metres away. She pulled harder, straining as the pain flared inside her.

  Now four metres.

  Now three.

  Her fingers were bleeding where the rough metal of the grate bit into her skin, but she persevered.

  Two metres.

  Now just one.

  As Iasa reached the doorway she could see the comm panel. It was just inside, perhaps another metre away, but more importantly it was at eye level.

  After another few pain filled stretches Iasa found herself at the foot of the wall, below the panel. She gathered her reserves of strength, taking deep breaths to steady herself before placing her hands flat and grunting with the pain and effort to push herself up the wall.

  Her first attempt failed, her blood slick fingers slipping on the polished surface of the wall and dropping her to the floor. Iasa let out a scream as she hit the deck. Something inside her had moved, she was sure of it.

  She tasted blood in her mouth. She lay still for a moment, letting the pain subside to a dull throb before trying again. She managed to push herself to a sitting position, her back pressed against the wall.

  The movement forced more blood to bubble up into her mouth and she spat it onto the floor beside her. The coppery taste made her feel sick and she was light headed from the pain.

  Turning to better see the comm Iasa reached her left arm up over her head.

  The lower part of the panel was just beyond her reach, but if she could manage just a little further she could hit the broadcast switch and speak from where she was.

  It seemed like a mammoth task, her fingertips scrabbled at the wall as she stretched, lifting her tortured body.

  Her breath was forced from her as her chest pulled tight, her

  vision darkened and the pain threatened to overwhelm her. The switch was at the very edge of her reach now, the skin of her finger brushing its underside.

  Iasa used the last of her strength to pull herself from the wall, bracing against it as her mouth filled with more blood and she coughed it out, feeling its heat as it ran down her chin and onto her chest. The switch was in her fingers. She raged at the pain and pulled.

  There was a click and a moment of feedback that echoed throughout the empty room. She heard its echo from further down the corridor and knew it would be repeated throughout the station.

  To use the broadcast option meant that wherever their attackers were they would hear her words. Whatever she said would be broadcast from every comm panel in the station, but there was no other option left to her. Her comm link was useless and her body too broken to attempt crawling to the next room, let alone the ascent to the bridge.

  Iasa was pretty sure she was dying. Whatever damage the weapons had done had been compounded by her attempts to reach this place. The thought of dying before she could enact revenge upon the people who had done this to her was enraging. She let out a dark chuckle, more blood came with it, beading on her lips.

  “Members of LSS, this is your commander.”

  She called out the words, trying to speak clearly though her lips felt swollen, her tongue thick and sluggish in her mouth.

  “We have been boarded by an unknown foe. Ipsis, Janner and Trishan are dead on level four and I am badly injured.”

  She thought she heard the sound of footfalls further down the corridor.

  “Assailant numbers are unknown, but at least four are aboard. They do not fall to conventional means.”

  The sounds of feet on the metal deck were clearer now. They were running. Iasa didn’t know if it was the sound of her comrades running to her aid or her attackers hastening to finish her off. She couldn’t risk taking a chance on it being the former.

  “I repeat, they do not fall to conventional means.”

  She saw the shadows of figures cast against the walls of the curved corridor. They were close by. It would be mere seconds before they were on her.

  “Take them down hard.” She called out, her voice breaking. “Take them to pieces.”

  The shapes of bodies rounded the corner of the corridor, just a few metres away, but Iasa’s vision had darkened so much she could no longer make out enough detail to tell friend from foe.

  “Take them to pieces or they’ll get back up. You need to destroy them” She croaked, “Their weapons are…wait, wait…” There was something more important her unit needed to know.

  “Someone aboard let them…”

  A concussive bang echoed throughout the empty recreation suite and the broadcast of Iasa Finsa’s voice fell silent.

  TWENTY

  Captain Timonny listened to the comms link with growing agitation.

  Those idiots in the first were stumbling around, constantly in need of direction for every little thing. That was the kind of officers Captain Lanad bred; lackluster fools who couldn’t think for themselves. He should be there, in the thick of things.

  It wouldn’t take long for him to discover the truth. It seemed plain enough. Clearly the station had some sort of security on board that was too inconsequential to bother adding to the personnel records.

  They’d been attacked by pirates and couldn’t fight them off. It w
as obvious the techs and scientist had abandoned the station in an evac pod and were probably even now floating their way back to the embracing arms of Luna.

  As for the whole no blood thing, well clearly the station was equipped with bots on a cleaning protocol.

  Yes, that was it.

  Those bots ran on simple guidelines and wouldn’t be able to move a body, but they could clean up blood with no trouble at all.

  He briefly considered adding this supposition to the comms traffic, but thought better of it. Lanad wouldn’t thank him for pointing out the stupidity of his officers and he had no doubt the Lord Admiral would take the man’s side and somehow make Lanad’s failure to properly educate his men to be acceptable, whereas Timonny’s act of highlighting it would of course be considered inappropriate.

  He was sick of them both.

  Timonny consoled himself with the knowledge he wouldn’t have to endure either for too long.

  He had connections at Central Command, oh yes.

  He knew people and those people knew him.

  More importantly they knew his worth, his calibre and they knew he was meant for better things than this.

  He only had to sit through another active mission, maybe two and he’d be called up to his rightful place and accorded the respect he truly deserved.

  His marines stood on station down the steps of the link stair. They shuffled their feet and checked their weapons in the quiet, empty space.

  It was demeaning. A man like him, a captain none the less, ordered to stand by clicking his heels while others, others below his station, went in search of answers and plaudits.

  He should at least be down in the substation. It was hardly fitting for his stature to be stumbling around engineering decks with no better a task at hand than reinstating a faulty trans-terminal, but still that would be better than being assigned to do nothing.

  The comms traffic continued to drone inside his skull. They were saying something about the weapons. They were different somehow. Timonny doubted it, those uneducated oiks wouldn’t know a decent weapon if it was forced upon them.

  It was likely they were just some old, outdated design. The station had been attacked by pirates, he was sure of it.

  Attacking the Deorum head on was too daunting a challenge for any of the clans, or even all of them together, but an out of the way supply station with a skeleton crew? That was easy pickings. Just because the situation looked a little odd at first didn’t make it any more complicated.

  There wasn’t some huge conspiracy going on here. This wasn’t a case of hidden depths and complex mysteries that needed to be untangled. It was simple.

  Timonny wanted to laugh at the blundering of the First Company. Maybe when they were back aboard the Pride he’d have the comms officers pull the records of these exchanges and have them sent to Command.

  That would certainly put a dent in the Lord Admiral’s pride; his first captain, his most praised subordinate, made to look a fool by the inept officers he himself had trained.

  Timonny smiled to himself at the thought.

  There was something amiss on the sixth level now.

  One of Lanad’s was bleating about the dead rising up.

  What a fool!

  Dead people don’t get up and if they do then the logical assumption is that they weren’t dead in the first place.

  Can’t even tell the living from the dead.

  And this man was a sergeant. He despaired at the level his beloved marines had sunk too.

  There was a gap in the comm transmissions, doubtless the silence was a reflection of the moronically slow thought processes of Lanad’s officers.

  “Hostile contact! Hostile contact!”

  It was Lanad’s sergeant, Deneminjic. The man was shouting his comms now, too panicked by a little enemy fire to keep his voice inside his own head.

  Timonny turned to address his marines, waiting on the stairs.

  “Enemy contact on the sixth level.” He relayed.

  “Be ready, I expect Captain Lanad will be calling for our aid any moment.”

  The marines of 2C1 pulled themselves up straight, their grips tightening around the stocks of their rifles.

  “Report Sergeant.” Captain Lanad’s reply buzzed in his mind.

  There was a pause before the sergeant replied.

  “We’re under fire from the evac bay and have enemy targets in the corridor coming out from the station centre.”

  There was a break in the comms, then Deneminjic’s voice returned, “Deventer and Clatt KIA, Pickay is injured…we need support sir.”

  Timonny scoffed; First Company couldn’t even handle a few pirates. Still, to lose two marines in such a short space of time was worrying.

  Timonny put it down to the sergeant’s ineptitude. To be caught unawares and lose marines due to poor situational awareness was unforgivable.

  He would be expecting to hear of Deneminjic’s court martial when they returned to the Pride.

  “Support is en route Sergeant.” Lanad responded.

  “Hold them at the evac bay.”

  “Sir, we’ve encountered resistance in the substation.”

  This time it was Sergeant Johs of 1C3. Her tone was level, professional and considered.

  Timonny considered her the better of the two Sergeant Johs’ and was pleased to hear that at least one of the First Company NCO’s could conduct themselves with the proper dignity befitting a sergeant of the Deorum Marines.

  Before Lanad could respond to her Deneminjic was back. “They’re not going down Captain!” He blurted. “We’re falling back to the link stair sir.”

  Falling back? How incompetent was this man?

  “Explain yourself Sergeant, what do you mean they’re not going down?”

  Timonny could hear the confusion in Captain Lanad’s voice and a worm of disquiet started to turn in his stomach.

  “I can confirm Sergeant Deneminjic’s report Captain.” Johs put in.

  “We’ve put down four targets outside the entrance to the fusion core and within moments they’re back on their feet. We’re being forced to fall back.”

  “Sergeant Deneminjic, pull back to the link stair and hold,” Lanad commanded.

  “Johs, clear those targets from the fusion core. They must not breach it. Reinforcements inbound.”

  On a closed comm Lanad spoke directly to Timonny.

  “Captain, no doubt you’ve heard the situation.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense.” Timonny returned without thinking

  “That doesn’t make it any less real.” Lanad replied, almost chiding him.

  “I’m taking 1C1 to support Sergeant Deneminjic on the sixth level, I need your men in the substation with Sergeant Johs.”

  Timonny had gone pale, he could feel the cold of a sweat breaking on his brow. Something was very wrong here.

  An enemy that wouldn’t stay dead was not an enemy they should be facing in combat like this.

  If they wouldn’t go down on their own then surely the better

  choice was to lift off in Peregrines and put the whole station down with warheads.

  “The fusion core reactor must be cleared and the substation released to return to Luna.” Lanad continued, “It’s mission critical Captain.”

  Timonny would have stuttered if he were required to speak out loud. He managed to get his thoughts in a line.

  “Yes Captain.” He sent, his body pinned in place.

  It was Lance at the Academy again.

  The towering, insurmountable force that would destroy all in its path. Lance had gone down to a surprise attack, but here on this wretched station surprise seemed to be completely on the side of their enemy.

  “Ynsin is down. Repeat, Ynsin is KIA.” Deneminjic sent through the comms.

  “Harper and Jun injured, falling back to regroup.” Johs put in.

  Below him on the stair his marines were looking at him expectantly. Lieutenant Bolthosian was closest, his crowded face showing its
habitual scowl behind his thick beard.

  “We’re…” Timonny’s voice cracked and he coughed, clearing his throat to hide his anxiety.

  “We’ve lost Attoro, repeat Attoro KIA.” Johs continued her litany in his mind. “The enemy is using some sort of energy force weapon Captain. Soft cover ineffective. I repeat, soft cover ineffective.”

  “First have encountered enemy targets on the upper levels,”

  He looked down at the marines, avoiding Bolthosian’s small dark eyes.

  “We’re to continue holding position while they put down resistance and may be required to support 1C3 in the substation.”

  Bolthosian opened his mouth to speak and Timonny shouted him down.

  “I said we will hold position Lieutenant!” He screeched, his voice breaking like a pubescent boy.

  Bolthosian closed his mouth, but kept his eyes on Timonny.

  The Lieutenant was hearing the same comms, he knew. He needed to move, needed to lead his marines down to the substation to face whatever this enemy was.

  He knew it, but his feet wouldn’t move. His anxiety had warped into fear, a dark, crushing fear that eclipsed his thoughts and drowned his courage.

  “We’re being pushed back from the reactor sir,” Came Johs again, “Where are the reinforcements?”

  Bolthosian shifted position. Timonny could see his discomfort at their inaction when they’d been called upon. The man wanted to run headfirst into the fray, not caring for his own life.

  Timonny couldn’t do that, he had prospects, he was going to his rightful place at Central Command. He couldn’t just throw his life away. He was too important.

  “Captain Timonny, ETA to substation?”

  Captain Lanad demanded over his comm link. He could hear the heaviness of the First Captain’s breathing as he ran to support his marines. Timonny couldn’t put himself in harm’s way like that. He just couldn’t.

  “Sir?” Bolthosian prompted.

  The realisation fought its way to the surface of his paralysed mind.

  He was a Captain. Captains gave orders, stood above the battlefield and directed their forces. They didn’t dive into the heart of the fray like some common soldier. He cleared his throat again.