“Yes, sir.”
“What are you thinking, sir?” said Aston.
“One part of me wonders if we might capture that ship and use it against the Ancidium. Another part of me isn’t convinced and it suggests I repeat my order for you to use the particle beam.”
“Sir, the Ixidar requests that we open a Gateway and take it back to the Ancidium. Its own module is offline,” said Burner. “It has also provided what it describes as a limited status report, which I have sent to Lieutenant Eastwood’s console for his perusal.”
“Check that report out quickly, Lieutenant,” said Recker.
“I’m reading it now, sir. Again, it’s all codes and I’m having to dig around the Gorgadar’s databanks to find out what they mean.”
“I assume we’re not about to open a Gateway?” asked Burner.
“Hell no,” said Recker. “Tell the Ixidar we’re out of fuel.” He had a sudden thought. “I wonder if the enemy warship knows the location of the Ancidium.”
“I can ask it, sir, but what if it wants to know why we lack that information ourselves?”
It was a good question and Recker didn’t want to breach a security threshold on the Ixidar that might cause its onboard systems to go into lockdown.
“We need to buy some time,” said Recker. “Inform the Ixidar that we are unfamiliar with its most recent orders and ask what it was here for.”
“The Ixidar is not aware of its most recent orders, sir. It has also sent a distress comm to the Ancidium, though its FTL comms amplifiers are out of action, so the response might be a long time coming.”
“We need to put a team onboard if it’ll let us,” said Recker. “Along with a small army, just in case any of the Lavorix crew were at the extreme edge of the death sphere and survived.”
“You’re not thinking of doing that yourself, sir?” said Aston.
“Not this time, Commander. Remember we have the access code algorithm and Fleet Admiral Telar can make it available to anyone.” Recker raised his voice. “Lieutenant Larson, send an update to the Lancer base, requesting a team from wherever is able to provide one.”
“Nobody apart from us knows how to operate the Lavorix hardware, sir,” said Aston.
“They’ll have to learn.” Recker made up his mind. “Lieutenant Burner, request that the Ixidar comes to a standstill.”
“Its propulsion has failed, sir. Apparently, the final modules died not long after it achieved its current velocity.”
“Damnit! Is it still speaking in codes?”
“No, sir. Now it’s talking in real words.”
“My turn – I’ll take over.”
“I’ve routed the prompt onto your screen, sir.”
Recker looked down.
Ixidar> Awaiting response.
He typed.
Gorgadar> We will use the Gorgadar’s mass and propulsion to bring you to a halt.
Ixidar> Do so immediately.
Recker blinked.
Gorgadar> You have failed. Our enemies defeated you and now you drain our resources by requiring avoidable repairs.
Ixidar> My batteries are at ten percent. My mission has been a success.
Gorgadar> Ten percent is a success?
Ixidar> My batteries were at zero percent when my mission began.
Gorgadar> What did you extract and where?
Ixidar> My databanks are destroyed.
Gorgadar> Have all your databanks been destroyed?
Ixidar> I have provided the damage report.
Gorgadar> Nevertheless, you will answer my question.
Ixidar> My static databanks are intact and the link is severed. A direct input of command codes is required.
A warship’s static databanks were generally used to hold data which didn’t require regular updates, such as the control software or whatever else the designers thought needed to be permanently available. Everything else went into the volatile data arrays. It was likely the Ixidar’s static arrays contained plenty of useful information, though the warship didn’t seem as if it was in a talking mood.
Gorgadar> What will command code input achieve if the link is severed?
Ixidar> Manual re-routing may be achievable on several critical systems.
Gorgadar> Why is manual re-routing necessary?
Ixidar> My central diagnostic hardware no longer exists to perform the task.
Gorgadar> What of your crew?
Ixidar> The answer is in the limited status report.
Gorgadar> Your crew are dead.
Ixidar> Yes.
Recker didn’t want to push too far, in case the Ixidar’s battle computer started joining the dots using the scattered pieces of information it had available.
Gorgadar> I will request a replacement crew be sent onboard to perform the manual re-routing.
Ixidar> Will this crew come from the Ancidium?
Gorgadar> No. It will come from elsewhere.
Ixidar> Where will this crew come from?
Recker paused, suddenly aware that he was walking on the edge, like he was about to breach one of those security thresholds he’d been worrying about.
Ixidar> You will answer.
Gorgadar> I will answer when I am ready. The information is not available.
Ixidar> You are aware of the protocols.
The computer wasn’t allowing Recker time to think and he cursed its insistent pushing. Nearby, Aston watched him closely, though she couldn’t read the text on his screen.
“Anything I can do?” she asked.
“The Ixidar wants a replacement crew, but I don’t think we’re going to get away with summoning a bunch of Daklan in a lightspeed shuttle from Tokladan and sending them onboard.”
Ixidar> You will answer.
“And its damned battle computer won’t shut up,” said Recker in disgust.
“Do we need the Ixidar that much?” said Aston.
“You know we do, Commander. I’m sure it’s still linked to the Ancidium via the battle network. The Ixidar might be our best chance at locating the enemy ship before it arrives at one of our planets.”
“In that case, you know the answer, sir.”
Recker felt his control of the situation was slipping and only a few minutes ago he’d promised the crew he was staying put on the Gorgadar.
Maybe I should just blow the bastard into pieces anyway.
Holding in a sigh, he positioned his hands over the keyboard.
Gorgadar> I will send a reduced crew from the Gorgadar to perform the re-routing. Then you will Gateway to the Ancidium for repairs.
Ixidar> That is acceptable.
Gorgadar> There is no need to bring the Ixidar to a standstill. Do you have power to operate the docking bay door?
Ixidar> My backup cells are fully charged.
Gorgadar> Try not to get yourself destroyed before we arrive.
Ixidar> The Ixidar is supreme.
Gorgadar> Like hell.
It gave Recker a childish satisfaction to cut the link before the Ixidar could respond. The exchange had left him feeling drained. Talking computers usually irritated him, but alien talking computers had a unique talent for getting under his skin.
He stood and rolled his shoulders. When he turned, every member of his crew was looking his way. He smiled thinly. It was time to make some decisions.
Chapter Six
First, Recker explained the outcome of his conversation with the Ixidar’s battle computer and then raised his hand to cut off the outpouring of questions.
“I’m boarding one of the Gorgadar’s shuttles and flying it to the Ixidar,” he said. “Lieutenant Eastwood, you’re coming with me, as are the soldiers we have with us. Commander Aston, you’re in charge of the Gorgadar, Lieutenant Larson, you’re on weapons.”
“Shouldn’t we talk about alternatives, sir?” asked Burner. “The Ixidar may be on the Ancidium’s battle network or it may not. This trip might be for nothing.”
“And what happens when we get off
the shuttle and the Ixidar’s internal monitors notice we only have four limbs instead of six?” said Eastwood.
“We’re dealing with a computer,” said Recker, with more confidence than he felt. “It doesn’t think like us – all it does is follow its programming and I doubt the Lavorix ever saw the need to add a response routine for what we’re going to do.”
“You’re not going to change your mind,” said Aston.
“Not unless someone has a better idea, Commander. Our war with the Lavorix is approaching the end, one way or another. This is a time for boldness.”
“That’s a damned powerful warship over there,” said Eastwood grudgingly. “I imagine if we got those guns working again it would beat the living shit out of entire Lavorix fleets without breaking into a sweat.”
“And wouldn’t that be justice?” said Larson.
It didn’t appear to Recker like his crew were going to hit him with any inspirational ideas, so he left his seat and beckoned Commander Aston to take his place.
“Think you can handle the Gorgadar, Commander?”
“Yes, sir. Unless I hear otherwise, I’ll hold it steady like it is.”
Recker stooped and picked up his gauss rifle, which was lying on the floor where he’d left it, since the Lavorix hadn’t installed a weapons locker on their bridge. Unexpectedly, his stomach growled loudly, reminding him that Frenziol could only suppress his appetite for so long. He had a nutrient bar in one of his pockets, but it would have to stay there for the moment.
“Which shuttle are we taking, sir?” asked Eastwood.
“The closest one,” said Recker. “I don’t know where that is.”
“There’s a 3D model of the interior in one of the databanks, sir,” said Larson. “I had a look at it earlier and it shows the locations of the Gorgadar’s fifty-six shuttles. Unfortunately, I don’t think your suit computer will be able to open the file.”
Hurrying over, Recker stared at the model Larson had on her screen and did his best to commit the route to memory.
“That’s about eight thousand metres from here,” he said. “Isn’t there a shuttle bay near the topside hatch we came in through?”
“No, sir, I’m showing you the closest locations. We’re equidistant from these portside and starboard bays, and I chose you the starboard bay because I’m right-handed. You’ll be on this internal shuttle car for most of those eight thousand metres,” said Larson, tracing a straight line across the map with her finger. “This must be how the crew exited the Gorgadar if they were required to travel between spaceships.”
“I’ve taken a recording of your screen with my helmet sensor,” said Recker. “And I’ll speak to you on the internal comms if I get lost.”
“No, sir, you’ll speak to me,” said Burner. “Lieutenant Larson will be moving to the weapons console as soon as you stop distracting her.”
“Fine,” said Recker, unoffended. He opened a channel to Sergeant Vance and Sergeant Shadar. “Do you want the good news or the good news?”
“I’ll take the good news, sir,” said Vance.
“We’ve disabled the last enemy-held Law of Ancidium and we’re going to pay it a visit.”
“We’re abandoning the Gorgadar already?” asked Shadar.
“Negative, Sergeant - we’re leaving a crew onboard and I’m leading this mission.”
“The platoon is near the bridge entrance, sir,” said Vance.
“Muster at the bottom of the steps, Sergeant. For once, I might be the first one there.”
Recker closed the channel and headed for the bridge door, with Eastwood in tow. Meanwhile, Lieutenant Larson hurried to the weapons station and took her seat.
It was dark outside the bridge – with other priorities, neither Recker nor his crew had spent any time figuring out how to switch on the lights. Descending the steps with his helmet torch switched on, Recker found Private Eric Drawl already at the muster point. The man had an unmistakeable air of smugness.
“What kept you, sir?”
“I was busy signing the papers for your dishonourable discharge, Private. I couldn’t remember how to spell gross dereliction.” Recker directed his torch beam along the left and right passages. In the distance, he saw other corridors, as well as several dark-clothed Lavorix corpses.
“I’ve got a wife and twelve children to support, sir,” said Drawl. “When this war is over, I’ll send them over to your place for supper.”
“I’m sure you can find gainful employment working in a Daklan sewer, Private Drawl,” said Recker.
Several torch beams dancing in from the left saved Drawl from having to think up another wiseass response. At the front of the approaching group was Sergeant Shadar, with his thick-barrelled gauss gun cradled in his arms. Behind him were several other Daklan, along with Private Ken Raimi and Corporal Nelle Montero.
“Sergeant Vance is that way,” said Shadar, stabbing a thick finger in the direction of the right-hand corridor.
“That’s the way we’re going, Sergeant,” said Recker, making no effort to head off until everyone had arrived. “Do you have anything new to report?”
“No, Captain Recker. The Gorgadar is an oppressive place and neither humans nor Daklan will ever truly be its masters. We established positions and did not explore.”
“I don’t blame you, Sergeant.”
The arrival of Sergeant Vance and some others cut off Recker’s next question. Space was limited at the bottom of the stairs, so the soldiers spread out along the wall.
“Sergeant Vance,” said Recker. “Is everyone with you?”
“Yes, sir. We’re all here.”
“Itrol, Litos, Private Carrington, Private Givens. You’re staying back to guard the Gorgadar’s bridge. Itrol, you’re now acting corporal.”
The Daklan nodded once. “Yes, Captain Recker.”
“Are you expecting trouble, sir?” asked Vance.
“Every Lavorix on the Gorgadar is dead, Sergeant, but I’m a wary man.”
Vance didn’t say anything else and Recker got the soldiers moving, aware that he didn’t even have enough left to call them a platoon. It didn’t matter too much – ten times the number wouldn’t suffice if the Ixidar had fooled him and its Lavorix occupants were still alive.
The Gorgadar was a grim place, a fact that was down to far more than just the corpses which had fallen everywhere so liberally. It was more than the odour of decay as well, though the staleness was cloying and unpleasant. Perhaps, Recker thought, it was the death sphere which made him hate the place so much. Its darkness affected more than just his vision – it seemed to crush his optimism, negating the mood-enhancing drugs which flooded his body, and making him feel as though everything was hopeless.
The destabiliser, he thought, remembering his brief discussion with Commander Aston. What was its intended purpose, or was it simply designed to kill?
He was intrigued and resolved to investigate the hardware – he assumed it was a weapon – later when he returned. Commander Aston believed access and activation required specific codes held by the original crew. Maybe she was wrong.
Through the corridors the soldiers hurried. Many of the passages were single-file narrow and Recker hoped the route would avoid entering those. He followed the map, taking care with his feet. At one stage, about three hundred metres from the bridge, a dozen Lavorix had conspired to die in a pile four high, which partly blocked the corridor. In no mood for the delay, Recker clambered roughly over them, his boots crunching bone and cartilage.
“Move,” he said, turning to watch the others as they followed. A couple of the human soldiers cursed the Lavorix for having the temerity to die in such an inconvenient place. The Daklan, as usual, said nothing.
A short distance further, the route line on the map went left off the main corridor. To Recker’s annoyance, he saw that the new corridor was narrow like those he’d passed earlier. He checked the map again, but what he had was effectively only a limited extract from the 3D model and he coul
dn’t spot an alternative route.
“This way,” he said, sourly.
“I should go first,” said Shadar.
Recker didn’t like hanging back, but he was the one with the command codes for the Ixidar and he allowed the Daklan to take the lead, before dropping into the line midway along.
“This passage shouldn’t be more than a hundred metres long,” said Recker. It was wide enough for him to walk front-on, but Zivor ahead was having to half-turn to accommodate his shoulders. “Then a right turn and we’re at the shuttle.”
Recker’s estimate of the distance was accurate enough and the squad came to a much wider passage which went left and right. Having spent much of his adult life on spaceships, Recker was not claustrophobic but he was nevertheless relieved to be out of the confines of the corridor. He told himself it was because his squad had been more vulnerable, but he knew there was more to it. The Gorgadar was getting to him, like he was sitting at the top of a long slope leading down into madness and only the slightest push would send him on his way.
The soldiers were feeling it too and the human members of the squad muttered darkly amongst themselves, while the Daklan remained quiet yet nonetheless displayed signs of their own disquiet. With the distractions of the bridge to keep his mind occupied, Recker guessed he’d been shielded from the worst of it, while these soldiers had been obliged to sit in the depths of an alien weapon of mass-murder, imagining the echoes of the dead.
“Sergeant Shadar, I hope you know a few good bars,” said Recker. “Maybe a place that serves something as refreshing as an HPA beer.”
“I know many places, Captain Recker, though you would be fearful to set foot in most.”
“I think that’s a challenge, sir,” said Private Steigers.
“Why can’t we pick a nice bar on an HPA world?” Drawl complained. “I know a few places where we can get a cheap drink.”
“I thought you already lost your bet with Raimi back on Ivisto?” said Recker.
“I did, sir. Cost me a week’s wages as well. Trouble is, I laid a few other bets that maybe I shouldn’t have done.”
“Said he could drink more Dog’s Piss than any three Daklan from Sergeant Shadar’s squad combined,” said Raimi helpfully.
Recker's Chance Page 5
