Refuge 9 (Fire and Rust Book 5)

by Anthony James

  Berg was one of the soldiers still up there and he stooped to lift the module. It was obviously much heavier than he expected and he was clearly reluctant to tell anyone. Conway watched the man’s struggles for a handful of seconds and then ordered Gundro to take over. The Fangrin was much stronger than Berg, but the module was still an effort for him to move into the cabin. He got it done and Conway motioned for everyone to return to the truck.

  Once inside the cabin, he took a brief, closer look at the teleport control module which Gundro had placed between the two seats. To Conway’s untrained eye it appeared no more interesting than a metal cube with several large interface ports in three of the visible faces. Nevertheless, it was vital to the success of the mission.

  The Ravok truck was easy to control and Conway executed a quick turn so that it faced the way they’d come. He accelerated to a comfortable speed which allowed him to examine the map data while also guiding the vehicle along the center of the aisle.

  “One more node on the teleport network should take us to the right place,” he said.

  “Yeah – looks like a distance along that big corridor,” said Barron.

  “We’ll stay in the truck as long as we can,” Conway replied. “There’s a turning close by the final node and I don’t know if the flatbed will fit along it.”

  A couple of minutes into the return trip, Conway estimated they were about halfway to the stores exit door. That was the moment the pressure in his head sharpened with a suddenness that caught him off guard and made him wince. The Sekar were close and he guessed that the speed of the pressure change meant they were ahead and coming straight for the truck.

  “Get ready,” he said on the comms.

  “Is this thing fitted with a tharniol bumper?” asked Kemp.

  “That’s a question I never thought to ask, soldier,” said Conway truthfully.

  Dark shapes became highlighted in the extremes of the truck’s light beam. For a moment, the Sekar seemed to shrink back and Conway wondered if the aliens were harmed by the illumination. His hopes were soon dispelled and the aliens poured onwards like a tide. The sight of them made Conway’s simmering anger boil over and he dragged the control sticks as far as they’d travel. With a kick in the back surge, the vehicle accelerated into the pack.

  Chapter Twenty

  Conway had no idea if the truck was fitted with a tharniol bumper. One thing he rapidly discovered was that it rode over the Sekar with great efficiency. Each contact with alien flesh produced a distant thump which he heard and felt. In front, the beam highlighted the ever-increasing numbers of enemy. Conway didn’t try to count and he ploughed right through them.

  “We’re not killing them, sir,” said Lockhart. “They’re coming out the far end and now we have a bunch of them chasing us.”

  “Figures,” said Conway.

  The only positive from the situation was that the truck was travelling fast enough that the Sekar couldn’t swarm onboard. Gilner fire from the load bed informed Conway that his squad weren’t feeling safe and each discharge reduced their dwindling reserves of tharniol-coated rounds. The Sekar seemed endless and the ammunition required to kill them was running out. A couple of Fangrin chain guns started up and a second later the other two joined in.

  “Private Kemp, what number row are we at?”

  “If I lean out and get hit by one of these alien assholes I’ll end up as withered as Private Warner’s ball sack, sir.”

  “Good point. Don’t lean out,” said Conway.

  The aisle became increasingly filled with humanoid Sekar. These had inordinately long limbs, which they held up high with their talons extended. One of these arms descended and went clean through the reflective windshield of the truck, right between Conway and Barron. The Sekar was hit by the truck and its arm was torn from the cabin, leaving the windshield intact.

  “That’s not good,” said Kemp.

  A second arm burst through the windshield. Conway saw it coming and he leaned to the side. Talons – each twelve inches in length with razor-sharp notched edges - screeched against the cabin floor before the arm whipped outside.

  “Whoa, shit!” said Freeman.

  From his periphery, Conway saw the other man sway back from lashing claws. Judging from the view ahead, the Sekar would get lucky sooner rather than later and members of the squad would die.

  “That ain’t happening,” he said under his breath.

  The problem was, Conway didn’t know how he could change things. The truck’s gravity engine alone must have weighed two hundred tons, giving the vehicle plenty of momentum. It meant the Sekar weren’t going to stop it by jumping in front, but the truck wasn’t exactly secure.

  “We must be due a death pulse,” said Freeman. “In fact, I’d happily take a triple-strength one right this moment.”

  The death pulse didn’t come. The truck shot out from the final row of storage shelves and Conway frantically tried to aim it towards the exit door. Suddenly, it seemed like other vehicles were parked everywhere and it was difficult to steer around them without slowing or making contact. It was a real test of Conway’s skill – a single impact would hurl his soldiers from the back of the truck, while if he slowed down too much the Sekar would find it easy to get onto the load bed or into the cabin.

  Not for the first time, Conway cursed the universe and did his best. The extended visual range offered by the flatbed’s light beam was the differentiator. He had an option of steering left or right past one of the forklifts and was on the verge of heading right. Then, the beam glinted off the edge of the support frame for the entrance door. He dragged the controls left and the truck almost collided with the forklift.

  “That’s it, keep ‘em guessing, sir,” said Kemp over the sound of his rifle.

  “Screw you,” Conway growled.

  Too late, he saw one of the Sekar launch itself from the top of the forklift’s cabin. It flew through the air, its body stretched and its claws extended. Even as Conway realized that it was going to come straight into the cabin and that Kemp was too busy reloading to shoot it, another part of his brain noticed that the creature’s shape was like a bad copy of a Ragger. He guessed it was a significant realization, though he didn’t know what practical purpose it might serve.

  Private Kemp had numerous positive qualities and chief amongst them was his seemingly permanent blessing of good luck. Bullets from a Fangrin chain gun ripped into the inbound Sekar, killing it at the exact moment it collided with Kemp. He staggered under the weight but managed to grab the support bar at the cabin door to steady himself. The Sekar landed half in and half out of the truck. With enthusiastic vigor and many curses, Kemp kicked its body out of the cabin.

  The ten-meter-wide exit door wasn’t far and Conway hoped there wouldn’t be so many Sekar in the corridor. It was a tight turn, made especially difficult by the need to carry as much speed as possible.

  “I’m going to swing us left,” he shouted on the open comms. “Hold on.”

  The front of the truck went through the opening and Conway pushed the left control stick forward and hauled on the right one. At the same moment, he steered left while trying to judge the timings. He was conscious of the soldiers on the load bed who had a single bar to hold onto and it would be a disaster if any of them fell off the truck. In order to keep as much speed as possible while making it easy for his squad, he took the corner as wide as possible.

  Conway either got lucky or executed the turn perfectly. He neither knew nor cared. The front corner of the cabin came within a hair of striking the opposite wall of the corridor. The gravity engine grumbled and the driver’s console creaked like it was about to break its mountings. At the same time, the teleport repair module slid across the floor with a scrape.

  “Watch it!”

  Cool as you like, Private Kemp turned, raised his foot and the module thudded hard into the sole of his boot. He held it there while Conway got the vehicle straight and then stooped to slide the metal cube into a more s
ecure position.

  “Nice save,” said Conway, not daring to look away from the controls.

  Kemp was in the zone and he didn’t even acknowledge. He simply returned to his position at the door and took hold of the support handle again.

  Conway got on the comms. “Did we lose anyone?”

  “No,” said Lieutenant Rembra.

  It was a relief and Conway released his pent-up breath. Another positive development was the noticeably reduced number of Sekar in the passage ahead of the truck. The light beam illuminated them coming full-tilt and Conway obligingly ran the bastards over.

  “Might be we’re in the clear,” said Barron.

  “Might be,” Conway replied.

  “Best not count our chickens, huh?”

  “Nope.”

  Within thirty seconds of exiting the main storage area, the number of visible Sekar in front of the truck had dropped to zero. Gunfire from the load bed was fitful and then it stopped.

  “What’s your status back there?” asked Conway, steering wide around another flatbed parked against one wall.

  “Hard to tell - we don’t have the benefit of light,” said Rembra. “The Sekar are no longer visible. I can feel their presence in my skull, so we have not lost them.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  Conway had the truck travelling fast, but he didn’t think it was going much faster than he’d seen the Sekar run.

  “They’ll catch up as soon as we stop,” said Barron, echoing his thoughts.

  “Yes, they will.”

  The passage wasn’t exactly overcrowded with other vehicles, but they were parked on both sides. In theory, there was sufficient room for the flatbed right down the middle. However, Conway didn’t like the idea of being forced into a last moment change of direction, which made him wary about going much faster. With gritted teeth, he increased the truck’s speed a little.

  “What if we miss our turning, sir?” asked Kemp.

  “The side passage we’re looking for is past this storeroom,” said Conway. “Once we stop seeing these big entrance doors, you and Corporal Freeman are going to act as spotters.”

  About a minute later, the parked trucks no longer appeared in the headlights and they saw no more of the entrance doors for the storage area.

  “Watch out for our turning,” Conway said. “I’m not sure which side it’s on.”

  “I’ll let the guys out back know,” said Barron.

  Their destination came sooner than Conway expected. The opening was narrow but Kemp had good eyes and shouted a warning in plenty of time.

  “There it is!”

  Conway brought the vehicle to a halt as rapidly as he dared. The cabin overshot the passage, leaving the load bed opposite.

  “This truck is too big to fit in there, sir,” said Kemp, leaning outside for a better look.

  It was something Conway had already noticed. He gave the order for the squad to jump down from the load bed, while climbing from his own seat.

  “Gundro, pick up this module,” he said.

  The Fangrin had anticipated what was coming and he sprang into the cabin. Without complaint, the alien scooped up the module and stepped carefully outside with it. Those few seconds were enough for everyone else to be ready to move out. Lieutenant Rembra had set a watch down the main passage and Lockhart was already exploring the new turning.

  “Move,” said Conway.

  Seconds later, everyone was hurrying away from the wide turning. This corridor was no different to any of the others – a little narrower and with a lower ceiling perhaps. Two humans could run comfortably side by side but the Fangrin had no hope of doing likewise.

  Conway made his way to the front in case a fast decision was required about something. Sergeant Lockhart was the lead man and the two of them ran together.

  “Need a spare?” asked Conway, offering one of his precious few full magazines.

  Lockhart took the mag without breaking stride. Behind his visor, the man’s expression was dangerous. It was a look Conway had seen before.

  “Thanks,” said Lockhart, dropping the spare into his ammo bag. “One in and one backup.”

  “Not good.”

  “Last teleport node and we’re there.”

  “And after that, no more Sekar and no more death pulses.”

  “An easy stroll to the surface.”

  “While Attack Fleet 1 and the Raggers kick the shit out of each other.”

  “Unless wiser heads prevail.”

  Conway gave a short laugh. “Honestly, I’d rather the truce held for a little while longer.”

  “Me too.”

  The higher than usual gravity on Glesia was enough to end the conversation. The constant exertions were beginning to take their toll and Conway breathed hard underneath the weight of his kit. On the comms, he heard Lieutenant Rembra order Nixil to take his turn with the teleport module. This single, simple act of initiative brought a surge of pride. The Fangrin were tough, competent soldiers and Conway hoped he’d never be required to face them in combat again.

  After what seemed like an interminable sprint along this dark, narrow corridor, the squad entered another of the many rooms which riddled the Refuge 9 facility. Conway offered it a cursory glance and saw a couple of exits and a corner console. In the center of the room, a square table was covered in plates, cups and bowls, like the occupants had gone off-shift without tidying up. Conway knew they were dead and this tiny sight of forgotten normality made him sad.

  “Teleporter,” said Kemp.

  Conway was two steps ahead and he got the door open, while the final members of his squad entered the room. The cubicle looked big enough for everyone with a bit of pushing.

  “Inside!” he yelled, checking the corridor for incoming Sekar.

  Something was wrong.

  “We’re a man down,” Conway said, turning and performing a mental count.

  “Sir?” asked Lockhart, emerging from the lift.

  “McCray,” said Conway. “Where’s McCray?”

  “He was with me at the rear, sir,” said Calhoun.

  “He’s not here now!” shouted Conway.

  McCray’s suit was on the comms network, but the soldier didn’t respond.

  “Shit!” Conway swore. “Gundro, Kemp, Brice you’re coming with me. The rest of you stay in that teleporter.”

  “He is gone,” said Rembra. “We will lose others if we search for him.”

  Giving up or accepting losses weren’t skills Conway had ever learned. He stared into the darkness of the passage, knowing the truth yet unable to accept it. The shadows gathered and the weight in his head increased. A hand fell on his shoulder. It was Sergeant Lockhart.

  “Your duty is here, sir.”

  Conway swore again and they retreated into the teleport cubicle. The door closed at the same time as the first of the Sekar emerged from the corridor. The enemy couldn’t penetrate the tharniol and the squad waited silently for the teleporter to complete its cycle.

  In the few seconds available, Conway put his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The moment the transportation was finished, Conway opened the door. He hoped his squad would get a break and that this next step would be easily accomplished. Once the main teleporter was repaired, the Sekar would stop coming, the trapped fleet would escape and the Refuge 9 entity would let Conway know where to find the schematics for the death pulse hardware. Victory seemed within grasp when the future was boiled down into mere words. Conway wasn’t fooled.

  On the far side of the door, a passage led into a room. Light from an unknown source offered glimpses of consoles and panels. The instant return of the head pressure suggested any hope of respite from the Sekar was premature.

  Conway refused to succumb to despair and he strode from the teleporter into the room. It was a large space, which he knew because the opposite and right-hand walls were both lost in the darkness. The details he could see made him th
ink this was a control room. In front of him, a circular console surrounded by chairs lay idle, waiting for operator input, its panel lights crushed by the proximity of the Sekar. All around, other shapes suggested that the room was filled with similar tech.

  It was the left-hand side of the room which was of greatest interest. A huge, long window offered a view into a vast, illuminated area and the light spilling through allowed him to see much of the left part of the room.

  “This is the place. Secure the area,” he said into the comms. “Nixil – put the repair module down. We’re going to find somewhere we can plug it into.”

  Conway left Rembra and Lockhart to deal with the soldiers and he made his way to the viewing window. He gazed down into a cavernous space hundreds of meters across, shaped like a square and lined with alloy sheets. A gargantuan pillar emerged from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. This pillar was etched with elaborate blue-glowing patterns which appeared to shift and change without his eye being able to identify exactly how it was happening.

  He remembered Ragger equivalents on Qali-5. Those ones had possessed the same glowing patterns, but their light had not extended more than a few feet. The light from this Ravok pillar filled the Refuge 9 teleport room with a soft, even glow which appeared immune to the suppression effects of the Sekar.

  The pillar was vast, yet it didn’t fill the room. From his vantage, Conway saw two large daises, each two hundred meters across and raised fifteen or twenty meters from the surrounding floor. Upon one of the daises he could see a miscellaneous heap of bulky objects, ranging from metal sheets to crates, consoles and other seemingly random items. On the other dais was a cube about fifty meters along its sides. The cube was inscribed with the same patterns as the central pillar.

  That was where the good stuff ended. Aside from the teleporter hardware, the space was filled with jagged Sekar fissures. They were everywhere – close to the ground and high up in the air. Some were in excess of a hundred meters in length, rough-edged and harsh like badly healed scars. Conway’s eyes darted everywhere. The rifts were too numerous and he didn’t bother trying to count them.