Death Skies (Fire and Rust Book 4)

by Anthony James

  To Conway’s infinite surprise, vast, gaping bullet holes appeared on the chests of the two aliens, so wide he could see clean through them. Both enemies tumbled to the floor without a sound, less than two meters away, the outstretched hand of one within inches of Conway’s boot. The near-extinguished lights returned to their usual depressing dimness and the pressure in his head vanished.

  “What the hell?” asked Kemp.

  “They’re dead,” said Conway, not sure if he was dreaming or not. He took a careful step away from the clawed hand and then another. Even motionless and in death, it was difficult to distinguish any features on the bodies and Conway didn’t want to get in close. The bodies made him think of shadows wrapped around something solid.

  “How?” asked Kemp.

  “Damned if I know.”

  “You’re the officer. You’re meant to know.” Kemp’s voice was slightly higher-pitched than usual.

  “Sometimes you dodge the bullet and you don’t know how.”

  Torres shouted something and none of the words registered. Conway shook his head to clear it. “What is it?” he asked.

  “The lift, sir. It’s on its way down.”

  Conway felt a bit light-headed. He gave Kemp a clap on the shoulder and the two of them strolled towards the others like it was just another day at the office.

  “Don’t ask for an explanation,” he warned. “Just get that lift here.”

  The lift car was on level minus five and it approached with agonizing slowness. At level minus eight it stopped and the panel lights went out.

  “What?” asked Kemp. He reached out and tapped the panel. The light didn’t come back. “You have got to be shitting me!”

  “Wait!” said Freeman. “Listen!”

  Kemp shut his mouth and everyone remained still. The microphone in Conway’s helmet detected a vibration or something. He pressed his hand to the wall adjacent to the lift door and concentrated. For a moment, the vibration stayed at a low level. Then, it became perceptibly more intense and Conway felt it in his palm. He stepped away from the wall and lowered his arm.

  “Shit. They nuked the place.”

  Nobody argued with his conclusion. It was the obvious culmination of the AF2 operation on Qali-5 - a sign that Admiral Kolb was unwilling to lose any more of the fleet and had ordered the withdrawal or the retreat.

  “Damn,” said Kemp. “I really thought we were going to get out of here.”

  “It’s never so easy,” said Torres. “And I was looking forward to that date.”

  “Really?”

  “Like hell.”

  Rembra growled deep in his chest, stepped forward and thumped the access panel twice with the side of his clenched fist. Then he calmed himself and went through the process of trying to override the security again. The panel stayed blank and the Fangrin punched it.

  “Easy there,” said Torres.

  “That anomaly up ahead is getting smaller,” said Lieutenant Park.

  Conway hadn’t paid much attention to it up until now. This one snaked across the middle of the corridor, in the air and about thirty meters past the lift. It was definitely getting thinner and the ends had contracted.

  “They decay over time,” said Wrekstin.

  “Does that mean anything that came out gets sucked back in?” asked Kemp. “If it doesn’t mean that, we’ve got something running around in this facility that killed all these Raggers.”

  It wasn’t a good thought.

  “We should find some stairs,” said Rembra. “I would like to see daylight again.”

  They hadn’t passed any other way up than the lift, which meant the only way was forward. Conway was about to give the order, when he sensed the faintest hint of pressure and thought he noticed a slight dimming of the lights.

  “Anyone else notice that?”

  “Yeah,” said Freeman. “Or maybe I’m just imagining it because you drew my attention to something that isn’t there.”

  “Either way, I’m not going to die down here,” said Conway. “Come on.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  They hadn’t travelled more than a few paces when Governor Wrekstin came up with an idea that had Conway chastising himself for not thinking the same thing earlier.

  “We should return to the central area,” said the Fangrin. “If I am correct, the Ragger transport network is set to automatically teleport the test objects from place to place.”

  “Damn,” said Conway, with light dawning. “That spaceship might come back.”

  “And if we are onboard, it may be transported to a place that is preferable to this one,” said Wrekstin. He gave a rumbling laugh. “It is difficult to think of somewhere that is worse.”

  “What if that massive breach on the dais is still open?” said Torres. “If the arm comes back, I doubt we have enough bullets to shoot it to pieces. That’s if we can even damage it at all.”

  “Yeah, about that,” said Kemp.

  Conway caught a note in the soldier’s voice that made him take notice. He looked across to find Kemp poking around in his drop bag. The spare bullets clinked and rattled.

  “What is it?”

  “You remember that tharniol dust I acquired from the warehouse our shuttle crashed into, sir? Well, I had it in a side pocket of this ammo pack here. When I fell coming down those steps it must have torn the pocket and now all the dust is inside my drop bag.”

  Conway leaned over to peer inside. The dust was much finer than he imagined it to be and it coated the inside of Kemp’s bag like grey flour. It clung to every bullet and had got through the lightweight mesh of the Gilner magazines to coat all the pre-loaded ones as well.

  “Do you think that’s why those shadow things died, sir? Maybe they don’t like tharniol-coated rounds,” said Kemp. “My first mag was already in the gun and those bullets didn’t hurt the enemy at all. Then I switched in a new mag when they were coming after us and those shots worked fine.”

  It was as good an explanation as any other. “How many spares you got, soldier?”

  “Eight mags total, sir, plus about 120 loose bullets.”

  “Share them out.”

  Kemp dug the magazines out of his pack and handed them around. “That’s two for each of us he said.” He dropped the existing mag from his rifle. “With this one empty and this other one only half loaded.” Kemp shoved in extra bullets with expert fingers.

  “Won’t these jam up our guns?” asked Freeman.

  “Probably. Let’s just hope it doesn’t happen to us all at the same time,” Conway replied. Gilners didn’t jam often and it was easy enough to fix. You just didn’t want it happening in a firefight.

  Conway swapped in one of Kemp’s magazines and waited until Freeman and Torres had done the same.

  “Is there any more of that magic dust in there?” asked Torres. “We could sprinkle it on our other ammo.”

  Kemp shook the drop bag. “It’s kind of all stuck to the bullets already,” he said. “Like it’s attracted to metal. Want me to hand them around, sir?”

  “Keep them in your bag, Private. I don’t want them mixing with the other bullets and I don’t want to throw the rest of the ammunition away either.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kemp, still reloading.

  The discovery of the tharniol-coated bullets had caused a delay in progress, though in a worthwhile cause. Once Kemp had finished reloading, Governor Wrekstin made it clear he wanted to get moving again.

  “This may be a positive development, but we should return to the dais and wait for the spaceship to return.”

  Conway remembered the distant explosion from when they first came out of the storeroom containing all the dead Raggers, and then hearing what he believed was the same noise when the spaceship was teleported out. Unfortunately, he hadn’t taken a mental note of the intervening time. It was few minutes, but other than that, he only had a vague idea.

  He couldn’t recall seeing another way into the transport area, so he set off the way they�
��d come. He took a wide berth around the bodies of the shadowy aliens. Their outlines had become noticeably indistinct, as though they were fading or disintegrating. It was one for the scientists, not that Conway hoped these creatures would ever show up again.

  The moment everyone was past the bodies, Conway urged them into a run. The pressure increased a little and the lights dimmed further. He didn’t know if more of those things had entered the central area or if they were on the floors above, hunting for life.

  The thought made him uneasy. A lot of Raggers had died and he was sure it would have taken dozens or hundreds of those shadow aliens to have killed so many. Or maybe something else came through one of those breaches – something that was bigger and could move faster than even a Ragger could run.

  At the doors to the core area, Conway stopped to allow everyone to prepare. Governor Wrekstin was noticeably struggling for breath and he couldn’t stop coughing. Rembra pulled an injector from a leg pocket on his combat suit and offered it.

  “Governor, take this.”

  Wrekstin stared at the injector, like using it would be too much an admission of weakness. After a moment, he accepted it and placed the device against his neck. The injector produced a quiet hiss and Wrekstin let it fall to the ground.

  Once that was done, Conway got the first set of double doors open and then ran to the second pair. When those opened, he immediately looked towards the top of the dais. The huge fissure was gone.

  “Seems clear. Let’s get up there,” he said.

  They followed Conway into the room. The two consoles were still online and he turned to make sure neither Wrekstin or Lieutenant Park decided to stop for another look. By their expressions, Conway was reassured that they were fully committed to getting out of here as a priority and with no intention of searching for further answers to questions only they had asked.

  At the top of the steps, Conway discovered that the opening wasn’t entirely gone. There was no sign of the arm, but a meter-wide line of darkness jagged over the dais. It was much shorter than before and he hoped it would vanish completely in the near future.

  Conway ordered everyone to stay off the dais, in case the transport network decided to randomly hurl them somewhere unknown. They watched and waited. The fissure narrowed with increasing speed, while Wrekstin and Park discussed theory in scientific terms that none of the soldiers could understand.

  The sensation of pressure slowly built and the lights went lower and lower. Conway became increasingly anxious and he couldn’t stop checking the ammunition readout on his gun.

  “They’re coming,” said Kemp, matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah.”

  Wherever Conway looked, everything was still. It didn’t make him feel any better and most of the room was hidden by the dais or the consoles on the floor. If those things could run through walls, they might already be here, he thought. He cursed under his breath.

  A spaceship reappeared with another expulsion of displaced air and the bass of its propulsion set everything vibrating. The hull markings confirmed it was the same craft as last time.

  Conway didn’t know how long the warship would stay before the transport network took it elsewhere. Its previous visit lasted six or seven minutes, but with everything breaking down, he didn’t want to assume consistency.

  He sprinted towards the craft, his eyes searching for an entrance. It didn’t seem to be affected by the corrosion, in the same way the dais wasn’t affected either.

  He saw what he thought was a hatch, close to the nose, and he changed course. The nearer Conway came to the hull, the greater the gap between the underside and the dais appeared. Like all things this size, the spaceship had fooled his eyes into thinking it was only a couple of feet in the air, when it was more like a couple of meters.

  “There’s an access panel,” said Kemp. “Can we reach it?”

  “And what if it’s locked?” asked Torres.

  These would have been excellent questions to ask earlier. Luckily, Conway had already convinced himself that a test spaceship wouldn’t be in a locked-down state and he hoped that the boarding ramp would open once the panel was activated.

  The activation panel was about four meters from the ground and not even the Fangrin were able to reach it or jump so high.

  “Rembra, I’m going on your shoulders,” said Conway. “Crouch down.”

  He was quickly learning that the Fangrin were a practical species. Without so much as a shrug, Rembra dropped to his haunches.

  “Someone help me,” ordered Conway, slinging his rifle on his back. He put both hands on top of the Fangrin’s combat helmet and tried to clamber up his back. It was awkward. Conway was fit and strong, but he was no acrobat. He wobbled and stuck out a hand, which Freeman grabbed in order to help Conway steady himself.

  “Go.”

  Rembra straightened with an ease that reminded Conway exactly how strong the Fangrin were compared to most humans. The alien didn’t even grunt with effort. Freeman couldn’t reach and had to let go, which was fine since Conway was able to put his hands on the side of the warship in order to help his balance. He craned his neck, searching for the access panel.

  “A bit to the left,” said Freeman.

  With his hand outstretched and his muscles straining, Conway took a swipe at the access panel. His fingertips brushed the cool alloy hull, missing the touch pad by a few inches. He readied himself for another try and bunched his legs to try a jump from Rembra’s shoulders.

  At that moment, the light dimmed so much that Conway was certain it was about to be extinguished. The aching in his head increased and his sinuses creaked like he was twenty feet underwater.

  “Sir.”

  “I know.”

  The red light on the access panel was hardly visible. Conway surged upwards and felt Rembra wobble underneath. This time, he got his hand onto the panel before he came down, missing Rembra’s shoulders and hitting the dais with a thud.

  Conway rolled to his feet and unslung his rifle. He cast around, expecting to see shadows coming through the darkness towards him. Instead, the only movement was from the hull of the warship. The hatch was open and a telescopic half-ladder, half-ramp emerged. It extended as far as the dais and stopped.

  Wrekstin was the first to ascend. Torres followed, then Rembra, Freeman and Kemp. With his feet on the bottom step, Conway took what he hoped would be one final look around the chamber. Again, there was no movement, but he was convinced the place wasn’t empty.

  With one hand on the rail, Conway hauled himself into the airlock at the top. It was a tight space, lit in the usual red. Everyone was inside, waiting for him so they could close the outer door.

  “Do it.”

  Rembra activated the mechanism and the steps retracted at the same time as the hatch slid shut. It clunked into place and Conway heard a whirr of motors forcing a seal. The pressure lessened only a little and the airlock light brightened.

  The inner door opened and they stepped through to the personnel area of the warship. Governor Wrekstin seemed to know where he was going or he was a confident guesser. Without hesitation, he instructed Rembra to take the lead and head right, away from the nose.

  Conway was last out of the airlock and he swung the thick door shut behind him and lifted the handle to lock it. He was in a narrow passage with hardly enough room for a human soldier in a combat suit, let alone a Fangrin. Yellow strip lights on the ceiling and floor were enough illumination to reveal pipes, cables and panels of what looked like trip switches.

  “This ship is older than your mom, Corporal,” said Kemp.

  Freeman didn’t respond and he turned out of sight along the next passage. It seemed to Conway that Kemp was having a pretty good day when it came to observation, because the spaceship did have a feeling of age about it. The tech looked rudimental and there was something well-worn about everything. Conway made an observation of his own.

  “This isn’t a Ragger ship,” he said, using his chin speaker. The we
ight of metal muffled his words, but they carried ahead and Governor Wrekstin responded.

  “I agree, Lieutenant. It’s also not a Fangrin ship. I assume it’s not an early Unity League model either.”

  As it happened, Conway didn’t know that for certain, until his eye caught sight of a tag on one of the switch boxes. The text wasn’t human.

  “No, Governor. This is not from the ULAF.”

  “Meaning we have discovered yet another new species.”

  “Small universe,” said Kemp sourly. “More warmongering bastards to shoot.”

  “A discussion for later, human. We must locate the bridge.”

  “Can you fly this thing? That’s if it’s even fully operational,” asked Kemp.

  “Governor Wrekstin was one of our most decorated admirals,” said Rembra. “If anyone can fly this ship, he will be the one.”

  “Good to know,” said Torres, sounding like she meant it.

  The passage turned right and went up some narrow steps. They looked about human-sized and Conway climbed them easily, with his shoulders brushing against some of the more intrusive wall-mounted tech. A rack of pipes ran along the center of the ceiling, not low enough for him to knock his head, but enough to make him think it might happen. He heard Rembra huffing and growling about it.

  The steps led to a door, which Rembra opened and strode through. “No security,” he called. “Makes sense.”

  They didn’t make it to the bridge before the teleportation happened. The sound of the transport network build-up wasn’t loud enough to penetrate the warship’s hull, but Conway experienced increased pressure to the point when he thought that blacking out would be preferable to suffering it. The sensation faded the same way it had last time, leaving him with a heavy head and an earpiece filled with Kemp and Torres swearing.

  “Did any of those things come with us?” asked Freeman.

  “I don’t know, Corporal.” The pressure in Conway’s head was lifting and the lights looked as if they might be normal. It was a hopeful sign, but he didn’t want to let his guard down. “Just keep watch.”