Scum of the Universe (Fire and Rust Book 7)

by Anthony James

  Having re-baited his hook, Stone waited to see what he might land in his net. The only logical conclusion the Raggers could draw from the claimed ninety-five percent decrease in tharniol requirements was that the Unity League and Fangrin had discovered a new method of propulsion.

  “You have understated the value of our genetics research,” said Resz-Val-28.

  Bingo!

  “Perhaps so.” Stone pulled out his pocket communicator and spent a few seconds staring at it with an expression he hoped was inscrutable. “In any case, perhaps I was hasty in requesting anything from the Raggers. You doubt our motives and I’m sure we can hold the Sekar at bay long enough to implement our new destructive technology.”

  “We Raggers have said all along that we will cooperate with our allies,” said Excan-Jao-87 in a volte-face of breathtaking arrogance. “Under the right circumstances, I believe that certain – less sensitive – sections of our genetics data could be shared with the Unity League.”

  “Naturally fair recompense would be required,” said Resz-Val-28, with a needle-toothed grin.

  “What manner of recompense might that be?” asked Stone.

  “We believe you to be working on new methods of propulsion, human. If our scientists were granted access to study your schematics, I am sure we could release a quantity of our genetics research.”

  Stone pursed his lips in apparent thought. “I am concerned what the Raggers might do with the technology we hold.”

  “How so?” asked Resz-Val-28 with another grin that was probably meant to be disarming.

  “With the new technology the Unity League and Fangrin have in our possession – technology which is different to the propulsion advances we have made – the defeat of the Sekar is inevitable and a burden that is gladly carried by the Unity League and Fangrin in order to protect the lesser species in this part of the universe.”

  “We do not require protection!” said Excan-Jao-87.

  Stone continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Therefore, it is only a matter of time until we return to a three-species war. I would not wish for our own technology to be used against us in a future conflict.”

  He waited. This was the first of two moments at which success or failure would be decided. If the Raggers thought they faced defeat against the Sekar, they’d fold. The seconds dragged and Stone kept his face utterly impassive.

  Eventually, Resz-Val-28 spoke. “If we were reassured as to the usefulness and viability of these new technologies, perhaps more could be brought to the table.”

  “Tell us what you offer, human. Speak plainly!” added Riviss-Uld-95.

  “The Raggers have stealth technology. The Unity League and Fangrin have a propulsion system which does not require fuel. A propulsion with an output several hundred percent higher than existing engines.”

  “Speed is nothing against an opponent you cannot see.”

  Stone gave another shrug. “Our new sensor arrays can penetrate your stealth tech.”

  “Then why do you need anything from us, human?” asked Resz-Val-28 angrily.

  Stone looked furtively over his shoulder, as if he was expecting to be caught in the middle of illicit activity. “Alliances do not last forever. Why do you think I am here alone, instead of jointly with the Unity League’s partners?”

  Resz-Val-28 revealed his teeth once more and Stone saw flecks of white-grey matter between several of them. He suppressed a shudder.

  “You are looking to the future,” said the Ragger approvingly.

  “The Unity League is tired of being caught up in the larger game,” said Stone. “We must protect ourselves by negotiating equally with every species.”

  “The Fangrin cannot be trusted,” said Riviss-Uld-95 with a nod.

  “We have tried hard to deal with them and each time they have betrayed us!” said Excan-Jao-87. “I am surprised your pact has lasted so long.”

  “The dogs have proven useful,” Stone agreed, checking over his shoulder for a second time. “But a wise species looks first and foremost after its own interests.”

  “Thus, you would trade your secrets with us,” mused Resz-Val-28. “Why now?”

  “Because the time is right. Once the Sekar are gone, we will deal with the Fangrin and the Raggers on an equal footing.”

  Stone let that sink in. For this to work, the Raggers had to believe that the Unity League was an easy target, with or without stealth tech. He had no doubt exactly how little regard the aliens had for humanity. Stone could see it in their expressions – they saw the Unity League as useful idiots and were pondering exactly how much advantage they could gain from the apparent fractures in the alliance.

  “I feel an agreement is within reach,” said Resz-Val-28. “However, one question remains unanswered.”

  Here it comes.

  “We have not yet seen proof you have the means to defeat the Sekar, human. Do you plan to flee using your new propulsion systems? Or do you expect to remain hidden by the Ragger stealth technology?”

  “You are wasting our time,” said Riviss-Uld-95, as if the statement would apply some extra pressure.

  This was the second moment which would determine success or failure.

  “We have a device,” said Stone. “It generates a pulse which kills any Sekar within its radius.”

  He waited. From what Stone had learned from the Fangrin, the first echelon Raggers had common goals, but that didn’t stop them vying for primacy amongst their peers. He was relying on Hass-Tei-112 keeping several important details of the death pulse generator secret from the other Raggers.

  “From Refuge 9,” stated Resz-Val-28.

  “Yes. Ravok technology that can defeat the Sekar.”

  “Why haven’t you destroyed the Seekers attacking your planets?”

  “The device in Refuge 9 was the only working example. It was damaged. We have the schematics to repair it and produce hundreds like it.”

  The Raggers exchanged a glance that was so slight it was almost imperceptible.

  “Such technology should be shared amongst equals,” said Resz-Val-28.

  “That is a possibility,” Stone nodded.

  With an agreement of sorts within reach, the meeting went on for an hour longer. When it was finally over and the viewscreen went blank, Stone slumped in his chair, feeling exhausted. He allowed himself five minutes to consider the possibilities and then rose to his feet, marveling at the improvement in his ravaged body.

  Fleet Admiral Stone exited the meeting room and returned to his team. This had the potential to be a game changer, though nothing was yet certain. With determination, Stone prepared to mold the future into an image of his liking.

  Chapter Eight

  The ULS Juniper was a big upgrade from the older diamond class carriers - even Conway could tell as much. The entire vessel looked and felt more solid, with hardly any groaning of overstressed metal when the spaceship accelerated or banked. Not only that, the usual pipes, cables and exposed instrumentation panels were mostly hidden from sight, leaving the internal passages stark and bare. Propulsion noise through much of the ship – except in the main bay – was curiously muted, reduced to a background drone with hardly any associated vibration.

  The result was undeniably better but, Conway was forced to concede, somehow lacking in the raw-edged charm he was accustomed to.

  Twenty hours after exiting the shuttle, he was still none the wiser about what was going on. The Juniper was at lightspeed, but Conway had no idea where it was heading or why. His not-so-subtle attempts to find out met with a complete lack of success. Nobody of his rank or lower had anything worthwhile to say and the senior officers either didn’t know or they weren’t talking.

  So, he was left with his squad. They’d been offered quarters on the lower decks – so close to the main bay that the sound of the Vipers testing their engines was enough to make sleep difficult unless the soldiers stayed inside their combat suits. For Conway and the others, it was no great hardship.

  Kemp
was here, brought onboard the Juniper before it departed from Earth on its journey to New Destiny. The novelty of being reunited with the Savior of the Universe soon wore off and it wasn’t long before the other members of the squad were giving him the treatment.

  With nothing better to do, the squad lounged in one of the technician’s rooms off one end of the bay. They weren’t strictly welcome, but nobody thought to move them along.

  “Kemp, your ass got fat from all that time you spent sitting on it,” said Private Warner.

  “These cheeks?” asked Kemp, twisting to look at his backside. “I could crack walnuts between them.”

  “That’s if you didn’t eat them all first,” added Berg. “Look at that gut, man! You make a blimp look thin.”

  Kemp made a play of punching himself in the stomach. “Nah, that’s like a damn rock. You’d break your fist on that, Cal.”

  “Let me have a try,” said Berg, standing and drawing back his arm.

  “I don’t want any injuries,” laughed Conway. “Best you leave your experiment until this is over.”

  Berg flexed and unflexed his fingers. “Damn, Captain, that means I’ll never get to punch Kemp, on account of the fact this war is never going to end.”

  “Something’s building,” said Corporal Barron.

  “Something’s always building, Corporal,” said Private Lester. “Like a wall they keep adding layers onto. Doesn’t matter how long a ladder they give us, the wall’s always higher.”

  “A damn squad full of pessimists,” said Corporal Freeman, blatantly ignoring his own generally dour outlook. “Where’s that tropical paradise when you need it?”

  The conversation wasn’t going anywhere and it didn’t need to. Something had to fill the time and words were as good a method as any.

  A couple of minutes later, the bay alarm went off, informing the soldiers that something was about to happen. A ship-wide comms message gave a warning to advise personnel that the Juniper would shortly enter local space.

  “Rendezvous,” grunted Lockhart. “Someone would have told us if we were about to enter a warzone.”

  “Seems like we’ve been forgotten,” said Torres. “We could spend the next two weeks chewing the fat in this room.”

  “That suit you?”

  “Not much, Sergeant.”

  “Me either.”

  The Juniper exited lightspeed and the associated nausea was noticeable but bearable. After that, Conway detected the subtle shifts which indicated the carrier was accelerating. A few minutes later, a second warning came to advise the bay personnel that the exterior doors were about to open. Conway was fully suited, except for his helmet which lay at his feet. He stooped, picked it up and fastened it in place with the ease of a seasoned pro.

  “Let’s go stick our noses where they aren’t wanted,” he said.

  With that, he exited the technicians’ room, not waiting to see who was interested enough to follow him. A short corridor took him directly into the main bay, where he paused to watch the activity.

  “Like someone poked a stick into the hornet’s nest,” said Sergeant Lockhart, appearing at Conway’s shoulder.

  The bay was a vast space, with slightly curved walls, a flat ceiling and floor. The forward bulkhead was approximately a hundred meters to Conway’s left and piled high with magnetically restrained storage crates, while the distant external doors were obscured by the row of Vipers parked up against the portside wall. Another row was parked opposite.

  Personnel hurried everywhere – either on foot or in a variety of vehicles tailor-made for the carrier. Conway’s trained eye recognized a level of organization which suggested the Juniper’s crew was picked from the best.

  The activity didn’t abate and the cycling red alarm turned faster to indicate an imminent forced depressurization of the bay. In hostile situations, the Juniper’s bay would be kept in a permanent vacuum so it could open its bay doors without notice. The amount of time it was taking on this occasion was enough to reassure Conway that nobody was about to start shooting railgun slugs through the carrier’s armor.

  “Dogs,” said Kemp. “That’s who it’ll be. If it’s not dogs, it’ll be Raggers.”

  Conway advanced across the bay floor, taking care not to interfere with the duties of the crew. A loud hissing warned him that air was being expelled from the interior and he felt it whipping past him. It was disconcerting, but preferable to being sucked out through the external doors if they ever opened with the bay full of air.

  The central aisle between the Vipers was wide and offered him an excellent view all the way to the main doors. With a clunk, they opened, lifted by immense gears. The lower door slid into the floor, while the upper one swung backwards towards the ceiling.

  Outside: cold and the endless dark.

  A suggestion of grey appeared through the opening. Conway zoomed in his helmet sensor, but the light was too poor for the enhancement to tell him what was coming. Rapidly the shape grew and then he recognized it.

  “You were right first time, Private Kemp.”

  “My good buddies,” said Kemp in satisfaction. “I think I’ve got me some dog biscuits somewhere,” he continued, patting his pockets. “Or maybe it was a bone.”

  “Elvis you do talk some shit,” said Torres.

  The shuttle came in fast, without sound or resonance. It was a mid-sized model and the pilot set down three hundred meters inside the bay. A few seconds later, the exit ramp opened and fifteen or twenty Fangrin in a mixture of combat suits and flight suits disembarked. The aliens were directed towards the portside wall and they vanished from sight behind the row of Vipers.

  With its passengers gone, the shuttle didn’t wait and it took off at once. The bay doors closed and Conway detect no sign that the crew planned to repressurize.

  “Huh,” sniffed Warner.

  “Expecting something more?” asked Lockhart.

  “I should have learned by now, Sergeant.”

  Lockhart gave Warner a comradely clap on the shoulder, knocking him a pace forward.

  “We’re going to lightspeed again,” said Conway, checking the comms. “I guess next time we enter local space things won’t be so easy.”

  “It’d be nice if someone gave us the damn courtesy of telling us what the hell is going on,” grumbled Berg.

  “Now the rendezvous is done, I reckon that’s going to unlock the mission files,” said Kemp.

  Conway was about to respond when he was interrupted by a comms channel forming in his head. To his surprise, it was Admiral Arie Kolb, the Juniper’s commanding officer.

  “Captain Conway, bring your squad. I’ll send you the location.”

  The channel went dead, but not before a file appeared in Conway’s suit computer telling him he had ten minutes to get to R24-2156. Whoever created the file had helpfully added a countdown timer, which was already showing 00:00:09:42.

  He allowed himself an additional two seconds to express his feelings. “Well, shit.”

  “Sir?”

  “Admiral Kolb respectfully requests our presence up on R24.”

  “Respectfully requests?”

  “I added those words. Let’s go.”

  Conway lacked intimate knowledge of the Juniper’s interior. However, his suit computer had a map and he referred to it for directions. With the timer at 00:00:00:05, the squad arrived at R24-2156, which turned out to be one of the carrier’s many briefing rooms.

  The room itself held no surprises – chairs facing forward and a lectern facing the chairs. A single viewscreen and a drinks dispenser completed the ensemble when it came to the furnishings. Besides that, Conway counted a total of eight Fangrin, seven of them seated and occupying a total of fourteen chairs.

  Admiral Kolb was immediately recognizable from her uniform and the fact that Conway had met her briefly in the past. She was accompanied by two other officers – one of them Fangrin - whom he didn’t recognize.

  “Just in time, Captain,” said Kolb with a smile
which reached her eyes. She made a gesture towards the seated Fangrin. “Some troops of your acquaintance.”

  Lieutenant Rembra stood, his head uncovered. “Captain Conway,” he growled.

  “Good to see you, Lieutenant,” said Conway. “Hacher, Gundro. Lieutenant Atomar.”

  The Fangrin greeted the human soldiers. Lieutenant Atomar was even bigger and with more scars than Conway remembered. On looks alone, he was a tough bastard.

  “Names, soldiers?” said Conway, staring at the remaining three who were seated.

  “Vicher.”

  “Ravil.”

  “Darax.”

  “The Fangrin are as talkative as ever, I see.”

  “Sit,” ordered Kolb.

  When the human soldiers had their asses parked, Kolb introduced the two officers accompanying her.

  “This is Captain Vandar from the Fangrin navy and this is Lieutenant Lily Hawkins, from one of the technical teams on ULAF-1.”

  What technical team exactly that was, Kolb didn’t see fit to make clear. Conway was certain all would be revealed, though his patience wasn’t exactly at its highest.

  “I’m sure you’re excited to learn what the ULAF has in store for you,” Kolb began dryly. “And I’m equally certain you aren’t expecting a deployment on a tropical paradise.”

  A couple of the soldiers made faint choking sounds. Conway kept his face straight.

  “We’re going to play the Raggers at their own game, ladies and gentlemen, and you’re the lucky ones who’re going to do it for us.”

  “We’re not talking poker, I take it, ma’am?” asked Lockhart.

  “Not this time, Sergeant. The stakes are higher than any card game.”

  “Aren’t they always?” muttered Warner.

  “You should be grateful to be given this chance to fight for humanity and the Fangrin, soldier,” said Kolb. She was an old hand and could take low-level insubordination in her stride. She smiled. “Now, let me tell you exactly what it is we’re sending you into.”

  Conway listened. After so long in the ULAF, he prided himself on his immunity to surprise. Whatever came his way, he could handle it. On this occasion, his immunity was tested. When the briefing was done, the only option he had was to shrug and accept what he was given.