Fractured Horizons (Savage Stars Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Enhance the feed, Private Montero,” said Recker.

  “On it, sir.”

  The deployment craft’s hardware wasn’t nearly so capable as that on the Expectation and Recker didn’t anticipate much improvement. Montero surprised him and the feed brightened, while shapes previously hidden by the thick, stinging dust became dimly realized on the screen. Overhead, the destroyer hovered unmoving.

  “Comms are dead,” Montero confirmed.

  Sergeant Vance was the squad’s usual pilot but, on this occasion, he was acting as backup. The man had his rifle propped against the wraparound console and his thick fingers tapped out commands into the control panel with surprising delicacy.

  “No sign of Daklan,” said Vance.

  “That’s for Commander Aston to worry about, Sergeant. All we have to concern ourselves with is getting inside a 250-billion-ton alien cube and finding a way to recall the core override from our spaceships.”

  “A walk in the park,” said Vance, with a rare chuckle.

  Recker turned the incision craft towards the third face, scowling at the broken antennae jutting from the surface. While the 800-metre Expectation was dwarfed by the enormity of this alien construction, the sixty-metre deployment craft was no more than a speck.

  The opening to the cube wasn’t hard to locate since Aston had positioned the destroyer directly above it, and Recker stared at the snaking line of darkness in front of his craft.

  “Ten metres top to bottom. Not too tight,” said Montero.

  “Plenty of room for this vessel,” Recker confirmed. “Not so much for a Daklan shuttle.”

  In truth, he believed the enemy transports would have a metre or two clearance. They’d likely scrape the paintwork if they were in a hurry, but otherwise, the Daklan wouldn’t have problems.

  Recker gave the engines some power and the incision craft accelerated gently for the breach. Montero continued adjusting the sensors, though the result was far from perfect. As far as Recker could see, the outer split appeared to increase in height the deeper it went and he got the impression it ended at a vertical wall. He gritted his teeth at the sight.

  “We’ve got lights, sir,” said Vance.

  “Hold off on them, Sergeant. If the Daklan have any shuttles nearby, they’ll see us easier if we’re lit up.”

  “Roger that, sir.”

  When the incision craft’s nose was only fifty metres from the opening, a huge slab of debris came tumbling down from above. Although the Expectation was overhead, it wasn’t tight up against the cube.

  “Shit,” said Recker.

  He tapped into the propulsion and the spaceship raced into the opening, entering smoothly and without impact. A flicker of movement on the rear feed indicated the debris would have missed anyway, but Recker’s heart was beating hard regardless.

  About a hundred metres inside, forward progress was blocked by a sheer wall of near-black alloy, but now that the incision craft was closer, Recker noticed that a long, vertical shaft had formed, running parallel to the outer face of the cube.

  “I’ll have to rotate the ship,” he said. “And hope there’s something up there worth looking at.”

  The manoeuvre was easy enough to complete and he got the small craft positioned at the base of the shaft. From here, the crew had a good view horizontally along the opening. The floor and ceiling were both warped, while the metal had a peculiar appearance, like it was covered in countless tiny scars.

  “More stress fractures.”

  “I guess when you drop something this big at high speed onto something even bigger, something’s got to give,” said Montero. “Look at what’s straight up.”

  What Recker had thought was a shaft rose for two hundred metres and then ended at a flat ceiling. From there, a new opening led horizontally into the cube.

  “This satellite must have come down on the lower edge of this face,” said Recker. “It’s suffered some lateral force damage, like the interior armour and construction materials got pulled apart.”

  “Let’s get up there and check it out, sir,” said Vance.

  Recker made a final alteration to the spaceship’s orientation, to ensure it wouldn’t hit anything when he flew it vertically. Movement to his left distracted him and he saw the Expectation drop directly opposite the opening. Then, it accelerated backwards and stopped after a few hundred metres.

  “What the hell?” asked Montero.

  The answer came in a blur of fast-moving dark metal. A Daklan shuttle hurtled into the opening a few hundred metres along from the deployment vessel. The last-second effort from its pilot to decelerate wasn’t enough to prevent it from striking the inner wall at high velocity and the shuttle jumped with the impact, its angular nose flattening. At the same moment, the Expectation surged along the opening, stopped and then flew once more in reverse.

  Recker understood. “Crazy Daklan bastards,” he said, in mixed anger and grudging admiration. “They’re flying at the opening from different directions in order to get past the Expectation.”

  “Let’s see what they think of this,” said Vance.

  The deployment vessel’s nose was fitted with a multi-barrel high-calibre chain gun. Aiming could be done manually and Vance used the backup control sticks to target the flank of the Daklan shuttle. The enemy vessel was damaged, but Recker was sure the life support had kept the crew alive.

  A drone and a whine of motors presaged the onslaught. The nose gun opened up with a menacing rumble and unleashed a flood of hardened alloy slugs into the shuttle. Streaks of white connected the two vessels and the side plating of the Daklan transport began heating up at once.

  The enemy crew was alert to the threat and the shuttle turned in the confines of the space. Sergeant Vance didn’t release the chain gun trigger and the slugs continued pounding the enemy armour.

  “Come on, come on,” said Montero.

  “Thick armour,” grunted Vance.

  To the left, the Expectation was still accelerating forwards and back, its propulsion resonance dislodging more loose debris from the exterior of the cube.

  “How many shuttles did they bring?” asked Montero.

  “A desolator usually carries four, Private.”

  Movement on the rear sensors caught Recker’s attention and a second Daklan shuttle came hurtling into the opening. It glanced off the ceiling and then crunched into the facing wall at high speed, crumpling armour and knocking the vessel sideways.

  Meanwhile to the front, the fusillade from the incision craft’s powerful nose cannon punched a hole in the first shuttle. Recker saw it happen – heat softened plating sagged and then was torn apart by the bullets. To his horror, the sensor feed was sharp enough for him to distinguish the movement of enemy soldiers within the passenger bay. Vance wasn’t about to give quarter and he aimed the deadly torrent at the Daklan troops, before concentrating his fire on the cockpit.

  The shuttle’s nose section – usually the strongest part – was damaged from the impact and the chain gun smashed the protective alloy, revealing blue illumination and shattered technology.

  A glance at the rear feed was enough for Recker to understand the danger. The second shuttle was already rotating in the direction of the incision vehicle and he didn’t like the idea of facing the enemy chain gun - the incision craft was built primarily for speed and wasn’t designed to trade blows with a Daklan armoured shuttle.

  “Going up” said Recker.

  The deployment vehicle climbed vertically. Sergeant Vance was an old hand with a nose gun and the sudden movement didn’t affect his aim whatsoever. The chain gun temperature gauge went into the orange and still Vance didn’t relent in his attack on the first shuttle.

  Recker focused on the controls. The incision craft reached the top of the shaft, and the opening continued sideways. A check of the upper sensor array presented Recker with a view that reminded him of massive steps, heading upwards. He guessed the outer walls of the cube had been formed from huge blocks which h
ad been torn apart in the impact with Pinvos.

  “The stairway to heaven,” said Vance, finally letting off the triggers. He roared with laughter.

  “The Sergeant gets this way sometimes,” said Montero. “It’s best to ignore him.”

  Recker wasn’t paying too much attention. He piloted the incision craft sideways towards the next vertical and then pulled on the control to make the spaceship climb. Lines of white sliced through the air, coming from below and crashing against the alloy far overhead.

  While the Daklan pilot didn’t have a firing angle, Recker was shocked at the speed with which his enemy had brought the shuttle under control. He threw the spaceship forward as its altitude increased and tried to anticipate how the approach of the enemy craft would affect its firing angle.

  The incision craft reached the next ceiling without being struck by chain gun bullets and Recker’s eyes darted across the sensor feeds, hunting for a clue as to his enemy’s location. The Daklan shuttle was out of sight and he tried to capitalise.

  “Hold on.”

  Sharp movements on the control sticks swung the incision craft’s stern wide. At the same moment, Recker sent the nose in the opposite direction in order to complete a 180-degree turn. He misjudged it a fraction and the rear corner thudded into the vertical face, glancing off as he got the spaceship under control.

  The outline of the enemy shuttle appeared, rising over the edge of the step and much closer than Recker expected. It worked out in favour of Sergeant Vance, who hardly needed to do more than compress the chain gun triggers again. The rumbling started anew and hundreds of slugs crashed into the enemy vessel’s flank.

  Immediately, the Daklan pilot banked, hoping to bring the incision vehicle into the firing arc of his nose gun. Anticipating the move, Recker threw his own craft sideways, taking it away from the enemy weapon.

  A patch of red heat on the Daklan shuttle expanded beneath the multitude of impacts, turning orange in the centre. Space was tight and Recker ran out of room. Once again, he pulled on the sticks and the deployment craft climbed strongly. The nose gun was intended for use against ground vehicles, so anything beneath was an easy target, and Vance made good use of his opportunity.

  The Daklan shuttle wasn’t finished yet and its pilot tilted the vessel so that its nose was aimed upwards towards the incision vehicle. Recker attempted to get out of the firing arc but could see that he was too late.

  “Get ready.”

  A cascade of Daklan slugs filled the cockpit with an echoing clatter that made Recker’s ears ring, even with the protection of his suit helmet. The sound continued for long moments until the deployment craft came level with the next step up and he was able to move it out of sight.

  On the topside array, more of the cube’s interior was revealed, though Recker didn’t have time to stare. His Daklan opponent was challenging and would take advantage of any distraction.

  “They’re staying low,” said Montero. “I’m attempting to track the engine note.”

  Recker knew how that was likely to turn out – with the howling of the Expectation’s propulsion all around, combined with the limited capabilities of the deployment vessel hardware, the Daklan shuttle wouldn’t be easy to pinpoint.

  Montero surprised him.

  “That way, sir,” she said, pointing over her shoulder. “They’re flying backwards past us.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Recker put his trust in her judgement and for a second time, he spun the incision craft 180-degrees. He was just in time – the Daklan shuttle rose into sight, white streaks lancing from its gun barrels. The clattering resumed, this time against the hull plates only a couple of metres in front of Recker. A moment later, the rumble of the incision craft’s gun spat in response, with Vance aiming for one of the still-hot sections of alloy he’d targeted a short time earlier.

  Unwilling to be a passive observer, Recker attempted to get out of the enemy’s firing arc again. This time, the Daklan pilot was quick to react and he rotated to ensure his own gunfire wasn’t interrupted.

  “Getting hot,” said Vance.

  Although heat smoke poured from the barrels of the incision vehicle’s chain gun, Vance wasn’t referring to that. The cockpit air shimmered and the computer in Recker’s helmet informed him the temperature was heading upwards and was already beyond safe levels for an unprotected human.

  For what seemed like an age, the exchange of fire continued as the two craft manoeuvred in the confined space. Recker knew he’d been drawn into the slugging match he wanted to avoid and he swore loudly - the Daklan pilot possessed the kind of skill which should have likely seen him in charge of a fully-fledged warship.

  Vance also swore and Private Montero demonstrated a rare talent for obscenity which she’d so far kept hidden. The entire front section of the Daklan shuttle burned bright orange, yet for some reason the plating refused to yield. A faint glow appeared on the bulkhead above Recker’s head, telling him that the battle would finish soon, one way or another.

  Just when Recker thought he’d taken a gamble too far, the nose section of the Daklan shuttle collapsed inwards. A huge hole appeared, like the superheated alloy was retreating from the focus point of the chain gun bullets.

  “Down you go,” snarled Vance.

  The Daklan pilot couldn’t hope to survive the flood of high-velocity slugs entering his cockpit and the alien shuttle spun around sharply, before crashing into the nearest wall. There it hung for long moments, uncontrolled yet with its engines pushing it into the hard surface. Vance kept spraying the hull, forcing a breach into the passenger bay and bringing death to the soldiers inside. A moment after, something failed on the enemy shuttle. Its propulsion cut out and the wreckage fell out of sight.

  When Vance lifted his fingers from the triggers, it brought comparative silence into the bay. He leaned back, his expression showing no satisfaction at the victory.

  “Them or us,” he said, like it was a phrase he used to protect his mental walls.

  “Them or us,” Montero repeated.

  Recker was alert for signs of a third shuttle, though the incision vehicle wasn’t in a state to face another.

  “Watch and listen!” he ordered.

  “Still on it, sir.” Montero assured him. “I’m not picking up anything other than the Expectation’s propulsion.”

  It should have been a relief, but it wasn’t. The Daklan had shown their determination to enter the cube and Recker had no idea how many Aston had intercepted. It was possible the enemy had more than twelve shuttles and equally, they may have held some in reserve.

  “We’ve got to be ready,” he said. “There’s a chance the Daklan will send others.”

  “And we’ll give them the same treatment, sir,” said Montero, though she was just going through the motions of bravado.

  Vance wasn’t prone to bluster and he kept his thoughts to himself. “Burned through half our ammo,” was all he said.

  With the known opponents dealt with, Recker turned his attention to what he’d seen on the feed earlier. Beyond the next step, the cube appeared to be at least partially hollow, though again, the viewing angle provided more hints than certainty.

  “We’re here to do a job,” Recker said. “Let’s do it.”

  Without further hesitation, he turned the incision vehicle and guided it towards the area above.

  Chapter Eleven

  The interior of the cube wasn’t solid and nor was it entirely hollow. Recker piloted the spaceship cautiously into a vast, cube-shaped area, perhaps 800 metres to each side. The space was unlit and the dark material of the walls made it harder to comprehend the shapes and lines which came up on the sensors.

  Montero adjusted and enhanced the arrays and within seconds obtained a feed which told Recker some of what he needed to know.

  A cube – exactly in the centre of the satellite - with a diameter of no more than two hundred metres, was held in place by dozens of spokes, ea
ch of which was no more than five metres in diameter. These spokes were connected to square housings fixed to the inner wall of the internal space. Recker believed these housings contained huge dampers, to allow the spokes, and therefore the central cube, a degree of movement. Generally, a life support system could cope with any kind of shock, so it struck Recker as odd to find such an arrangement within an advanced structure like this one.

  “If there’s anything to be found, it’s usually in the middle,” said Montero.

  “Then let’s take a look,” said Recker.

  Flying through the interior of the cube was one of the most alien experiences he could recall. True, there was nothing especially unusual about spokes and cubes, but when everything was combined – the impact with Pinvos, the crashed fleets and the staircase leading here – it made Recker’s head swim.

  “If we’re to delete the core override from our spaceships, we’ll need to locate an interface panel,” he said.

  “What if they didn’t fit one?” asked Vance.

  It was a possibility, but Recker didn’t think it likely. “Even if this satellite was designed to operate without a crew, the technicians would have run onboard tests before sign-off. And those tests would have been initiated through control consoles.”

  “What if big alien robots built everything?” asked Montero.

  “Let’s not overthink things, Private. We’re here and without other options. We’ll push until we arrive at a dead end or we succeed.”

  “Get our heads down and run,” said Montero, nodding like she suddenly understood. “I can go with that.”

  Uncomfortably aware that the Daklan didn’t give up easily, Recker piloted the spaceship to midpoint between floor and ceiling and began a clockwise circuit around the inner cube. The spokes were numerous but the arrangement was regular and they were easy to avoid, as long as he took extra care.

  After completing half a circuit, an unwelcome sight appeared on the sensors.

  “Shit,” said Vance. “Daklan shuttle.”