Fractured Horizons (Savage Stars Book 2)

by Anthony James

  “Enough,” warned Recker.

  “Sorry, sir,” said Eastwood. “I can’t recall any of that contact training, since it was about twenty years ago and lasted an hour.”

  “The HPA didn’t expect this to happen,” said Burner. “We’re so tied up fighting the Daklan that nobody really thinks too hard about other species. Not anymore.”

  “We can have a post-mortem later, folks,” said Recker. “I’m going to keep us headed for Vitran until we’re close enough that the sensors might pick up something useful.”

  Thirty minutes passed, during which Aston and Burner gathered information about the planet ahead. At this early stage, there wasn’t much the sensors could provide.

  “Definitely trees,” said Burner. “Lots of clouds. I can’t find any sign of oceans, so the facing side of the planet might be watered by rivers and small lakes. Really, I’m pulling ideas out of my ass to fill the time until we’re close enough for the sensors to detect useful stuff.”

  “I understand, Lieutenant. Keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Time went on and the distance to Vitran fell below a hundred million kilometres. The automatic shift scheduler ensured the crew were fully rested at the end of the fifteen-day inbound journey, but Recker was aware that eventually, they’d need to sleep again and he didn’t want that to happen with the spaceship still hurtling towards the planet. Eventually, he’d have to slow things down so that everyone could sleep. Either that or insist they took boosters, though his experience told him it was usually best to keep those for the moments when there was absolutely no alternative.

  At ninety-five million kilometres, Burner made a startled noise which got Recker’s attention at once.

  “Sir, you need to look at this.”

  Recker was at the comms station in three strides. “Show me.”

  A single line of text glowed orange on the central comms screen.

  > Crew of terminator class warship: Vengeance. Meklon station Excon-18 welcomes your arrival.

  “Meklon? Is that the alien name for the planet?” said Burner. “Want me to respond to the message?”

  “Not yet. Can you locate the source of the broadcast?” asked Recker.

  “Negative, sir. I’m still denied access to some of the deep comms functionality, including the ability to read the encrypted sub-data on this transmission. Uh-oh.”

  “Uh-oh what?” snapped Recker.

  “The Vengeance just sent a response, sir.”

  “Shit. What did it say?”

  “I don’t know. Our return transmission came from a part of the comms system I can’t access. Maybe the same piece of hardware that sent the ping which brought us here in the first place.”

  Recker watched the comms screen. Either the two-way comms was sub-light, ensuring a delay between responses, or the receiving station had nothing else to say beyond its initial greeting.

  Abruptly, a second line of text appeared beneath the first.

  > Crew of terminator class warship: Vengeance. Security Tier 1 biometric authorisation detected. Unattended approach: approval not granted.

  “What the hell does that mean?” asked Burner. “Is that a polite way of telling us to piss off?”

  “I think it’s a polite way of telling us we’re in the crap,” said Aston.

  Recker had an idea what was coming. He threw himself into his seat, grabbed the controls and hauled on them to make the Vengeance bank away from Vitran. To his dismay, the spaceship remained on its existing course.

  “The Excon-18 flight control system has taken over,” he said. “The controls aren’t responding.”

  “Can you override?” said Aston.

  Recker tried everything he could think of, but nothing worked. He resisted the urge to crash his fist against the command console, aware it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Lieutenant Burner, have we received any further communication from the ground station?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We’re slowing,” said Recker.

  “Our processing core has received a new instruction,” said Eastwood. “It’s loading up for a lightspeed jump.”

  With Recker unable to stop it, the Vengeance came to a halt, while the lightspeed calculations burned the core.

  “Can you find out where we’re going, Lieutenant Eastwood? As if I couldn’t guess.”

  “We’re heading for Vitran, sir. I estimate we’ll re-enter local space at an altitude of fifty thousand klicks.”

  “Well, we wanted to find some answers,” said Recker. “And now it seems we’re on our way to do just that.”

  As the eight minutes counted down, he was torn between alarm at the possible danger, and relief that a long and tense sub-light journey had been avoided. Underlying both was an excitement which Recker couldn’t deny – an excitement at the mysteries of the universe.

  At exactly the predicted moment, the Vengeance entered lightspeed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Having braced himself for the double pain of an in-out transition, Recker was not badly debilitated. Even before his vision cleared, he tested the controls to find out if the ground station had relinquished its command of the warship. It had not.

  “We’re stationary,” he said. “Give me a sensor report before we start moving again.”

  “We’re at a fifty thousand klick altitude,” said Burner. “Putting the feed up.”

  Viewed from this much closer distance, the Vengeance’s sensors left few details unrevealed. Much of the planet’s surface was obscured by dense grey clouds, but many areas were exposed. Beneath the clouds, everything was trees, covering millions of square kilometres in different shades of green, with no expanses of water amongst them.

  Above the equator, Recker noticed dark grey shapes protruding from between the trees and he peered at them.

  “Zoom this area,” he said.

  The sensor array magnified and Recker understood what he was looking at.

  “Structures,” he said.

  What may have once been a city covered an extensive area and, rather than sprawling like the human equivalent, it appeared to be contained within the bounds of an imaginary square, with sides a hundred kilometres long. None of the buildings were particularly tall, such that the trees towered above many, concealing the shapes and functions.

  “Is that a city or a military facility?” asked Eastwood. “I can’t make it out.”

  “I don’t know,” said Recker. “Any sign of life?”

  “The sensors are reading no movement of any kind and no significant sources of heat, sir.”

  “A mystery,” said Recker.

  A change in propulsion note brought his attention to the command console, where he discovered the Vengeance was once again accelerating.

  “Find out where we’re going,” he said. “Do it quickly.”

  “Got it, sir,” said Burner. “I’ll circle the place on the feed.”

  A red ring appeared around an area of the planet about a thousand kilometres from the city. Here, the trees were not so thickly clustered, though the angle meant that Recker couldn’t clearly see what they were approaching. He studied the feed closely and thought he made out two square buildings and not much else.

  “Any idea what we’re heading into?” he asked.

  “Whatever it is, it’s got to be military,” said Aston.

  “The ground controller isn’t saying anything, sir,” added Burner.

  “I don’t think it needs to, Lieutenant. The Vengeance has reported that its crew aren’t on the correct security tier, so it’s bringing us in for investigation.”

  “Who’s going to ask the questions?” said Eastwood. “It’s like the planet is deserted.”

  “There’s still nothing in the air, sir,” said Burner. “And the sensors should detect ground traffic from here as well – if there was any to find.”

  “The planet can’t be dead,” said Recker.

  “We know about the existence of a war,” said Aston. “Maybe somethi
ng happened here.”

  Recker didn’t like it and he experienced a feeling of creeping dread. Vitran had once held life and now there was seemingly none – except for the trees - with only the ground station giving indication that the planet still had power.

  “Ten minutes and we’ll be at the predicted landing site,” said Burner. “I’ll have a better idea what we’re heading into before then.”

  The Vengeance continued its approach, while Recker scraped his teeth in frustration. He hated being a passenger and worse – he had no idea what the outcome would be once the warship landed, assuming that was the intention of the ground station. Added to that, he suspected he might never regain control, since he and his crew were effectively intruders on what he felt sure was a high-grade military vessel. What the punishment would be, he didn’t want to guess.

  Inexorably, the control station brought the Vengeance towards the landing site. The warship plunged through clouds and into a deluge of pelting rain, which added a gloominess to the vibrant greens of the foliage. By this point, Recker had a clear view of the target area, which was directly between two square structures made of stone and metal. Trees filled the space between the buildings and the visible patches of ground were paved in light-coloured alloy. How the trees had found room to grow, Recker had no idea.

  “The distance from one building to the other is a thousand metres, sir,” said Burner. “This must be a landing field, though it’s not much bigger than the Vengeance. The alloy is covered in holes.”

  “We’re rotating,” said Recker. “Coming in for landing.”

  “I don’t know if the ground will support us, sir,” said Burner.

  “We’ll soon find out.”

  Smoothly and accurately, the ground station aligned the Vengeance and held it briefly stationary. At eight hundred metres up, the crew were given an excellent view of the multitude of craters which covered the landing area. From each hole a tree grew; sometimes more than one.

  Then, the warship descended vertically, straight onto the trees. The sound of cracking and splintering didn’t penetrate the hull, but Recker could see the damage well enough on the sensor feeds. The trees were strong and proud, and no match for the 2.7 billion tons of warship landing on top of them.

  “Ready,” said Recker.

  The Vengeance’s landing legs touched the ground. Or rather, most of them did – others came down over craters and the warship lurched. The landing legs groaned and Recker heard the blunted sound of a metallic crack, which must have been incredibly loud to reach the bridge. Instrumentation on the command console indicated the Vengeance was slowly sliding at a diagonal. Another crack came and then the sliding stopped.

  Recker held his breath and everything remained steady. He glanced at the port and starboard feeds. Through gaps in the smashed trees, he saw the vertical facing walls of the flanking buildings.

  “We’re down,” he said.

  “There’s a new message on the comms, sir,” said Burner.

  Recker wanted to see it first-hand and he climbed from his seat.

  > Crew of terminator class warship: Vengeance. Biometric update required.

  “What does that mean?” said Burner.

  “If I’m right, it’s both good and bad news,” said Recker slowly.

  “Can we start with the positive?” said Eastwood.

  “We speculated that the core override the Vengeance suffered wiped the spaceship back to a new state, like it had just come out of the construction yard.”

  “I remember,” said Aston.

  “That meant I could imprint my biological signature and from there I could give you all access to run your specific functions on the warship,” Recker continued. “If I’m right, access to the Vengeance’s offensive and defensive systems is only granted once approval is given from two sources – the warship itself and also by a military facility like this one.”

  He looked at Aston and her eyes were wide. “I want to believe,” she said. “Why do you think a ground station would complete the security setup instead of treating this as a security breach?”

  “Because the Vengeance has completed the first half. That might make the ground station trust me as the designated command officer for the warship.”

  “That’s totally different to the way it happens in our military,” said Eastwood.

  “This isn’t the HPA, Lieutenant,” said Aston.

  “I have to find out. Not that we have a choice,” said Recker. “The Vengeance saw duty in a war that was fought using weapons beyond our technological capabilities and it came through with no more than hull scarring. Just think what humanity will gain if we unlock those secrets and use them against the Daklan.”

  “We might end up facing more than just the Daklan, sir,” said Eastwood. He looked troubled and with good reason.

  Recker’s suit helmet was next to his console and he put it on. “Commander Aston, I’m the only one who can do this. The bridge is yours, for what good it’ll do. Lieutenant Burner – have Sergeant Vance and nine of his squad assemble at the forward boarding ramp.” He opened the bridge locker and pulled out a gauss rifle and spare magazines.

  “What about the other five soldiers, sir?” asked Burner.

  Aston understood. “In case anyone from the ground station tries to come onboard.”

  “That’s right.”

  Recker was desperate to find out if his theory about the Vengeance’s onboard security was correct and he hurried from the bridge. His steps quickened and soon he was as close to a run as the narrow passages allowed.

  He was first to the airlock since the soldiers had further to travel and because the order to mobilise had come without notice. Recker waited impatiently, unwilling to activate the ramp without backup.

  Next to arrive was Corporal Hendrix,

  “Sir,” she said. Hendrix was lugging her heavy med-box, so Recker had no idea how she made it before the others.

  “Corporal,” Recker greeted her.

  “What shit are we in now?”

  “What makes you think we landed in shit?”

  “The day the ramp opens and I step out onto a pink-iced cake with a cherry on top, is the day I’ll know I’ve gone insane.”

  “We’ll brief once the others are here.”

  Sergeant Vance and the rest of the chosen soldiers weren’t far behind and Recker filled them in on the scant details.

  “This is important, isn’t it?” said Raimi. Like the others, he understood the ramifications.

  “It might be the most important thing any of us has ever done,” Recker confirmed. “Are you ready for it?”

  “Hell, yes!”

  “Born ready, sir.”

  Recker thudded his palm against the square blue button which controlled the boarding ramp. With a crunch of overused gears, a section of the floor detached and dropped towards the ground below. The outside air came in and Recker’s environmental sensor told him it was hot, humid and breathable.

  With a second crunch, the ramp contacted the ground and the slight angle reminded Recker that the Vengeance wasn’t on stable footing. The sound of rain – heavy, unrelenting rain – came to him and he experienced a fleeting memory of home.

  “Let’s move,” said Recker.

  Pride was not a consideration and he allowed Vance to take the lead. Following in the middle of the line, Recker descended to the surface of this alien world.

  From the light, he guessed it was late afternoon and he cast his gaze around at the broken trees and the strangely circular craters from which they sprang. Several of the Vengeance’s landing feet had settled in or near to these holes and the spaceship’s weight had produced countless stress lines in the weakened surface. Above the subdued engine note, Recker heard a slow, inexorable scraping that made him wonder how long it would be before the Vengeance tipped further.

  While Recker absorbed the details, Vance and the squad spread out, clambering across leafy branches and bright shards of severed wood as they watched f
or anything which might constitute a threat.

  “Which way, sir?” asked Vance. “We’ve got structures east and west.”

  “That one,” said Recker, pointing at the east building, the path to which seemed a little easier.

  Under Vance’s command, the squad headed warily across the grey alloy surface, still beneath the shelter offered by the warship’s enormous hull. It was impossible to move silently and every footstep produced a crack or a rustling of disturbed leaves. That same foliage reduced visibility and the rain shrouded everything in a shifting cloak of refracted light.

  Gradually, as Recker approached the edge of the warship’s cover, the spatter of raindrops came much louder over the grumbling propulsion and no sooner had he stepped out from beneath the Vengeance than the outer layer of his suit was drenched. He could feel each droplet striking him and they produced tiny explosions of water everywhere he looked.

  “Move,” said Vance.

  The squad headed for the target and those soldiers further than a few metres away became no more than grey shapes, the details seemingly washed away in the torrent. Recker skirted one of the craters – this one ten metres across - and glanced inside. It was much deeper than he expected and went a long way down.

  Soon, they arrived at the facing wall of the building and the soldiers stood guard while Vance gestured towards a door.

  Recker hurried over. The structure was larger than he’d imagined and it towered windowless over him, a flat-faced and functional example of the architect’s hand. He noted that the stone cladding was smooth and with an ageless appearance, defying his attempts to guess how long ago the place was built.

  “This door, sir,” said Vance, knocking on its unblemished metal surface with gloved knuckles. He lowered his hand and pointed at a hand-sized panel flush to the wall adjacent. “Access panel there.”

  Recker glanced at the soldiers nearby. They hardly moved such that he got the impression they were statues from a museum dedicated to war. Only the faces behind the visors – wide eyes and flared nostrils – spoiled the illusion of their permanency.