Terra Prime (The Terran Legacy Book 2)

by Rob Dearsley

  “Doc! Doc, get out here,” Dannage yelled, dropping down by the man – Rutter by his name-tag – Dannage barely recognised the mess of his face. Stars, he had jumped with a busted visor. That was hardcore. Dannage’s own brush with vacuum had been bad enough, and he’d only been exposed for a few seconds. Rutter had to have been sucking vacuum for nearly a minute while Dannage had been messing with the stupid scanners, or playing it safe with the pickup. He should have been faster. Closed in straight off the bat or something.

  A small part of him was just glad it wasn’t Arland. But where was she? He was about to ask when Vaughn appeared.

  Vaughn rushed from the medical compartment, Hale Trailing behind him. “What happened?” Vaughn asked, then he saw Rutter. “Quickly, get him to the med-bay.”

  Hale scooped up Rutter, heavy armour and all, carrying him in her arms like a child.

  Grayson, his own helmet off, followed along behind.

  Around the hold, the others were pushing themselves up and removing their helmets. Where was Arland?

  A flash of blonde hair as one of the armoured figures popped their helmet open. There she was. He rushed over, throwing his arms around her as best he could. The hard angularity of the armour dug into him, but he didn’t care. She was here. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

  “Stars, don’t do that.” He looked down at her. Even with matted hair, she looked amazing.

  “Sir, Captain. Get off.” She smiled as she batted at him. The power-assisted blow from her armour sent stumbling into a stack of crates tethered to the deck. “Oh crap. Sorry, sir.”

  “I’m okay,” Dannage said, struggling to get clear of the crates. “We should check on Rutter.”

  She pulled him to his feet, roughly enough to send him stumbling again. He slipped his hand into her gauntleted one and they started for the medical bay with a whirring of motors from Arland’s armour.

  The normally small med-bay felt even more cramped with both Arland and Grayson in their bulky armour.

  On the far side of the bed, Vaughn pressed a hypo into Rutter’s neck. Dannage glanced up at the consoles behind the Doc. They showed steady but faint life signs.

  “How is he?” Arland asked.

  “He’s stable. I’ve got his vitals back within normal ranges, but the exposure damage to his face is severe.” Vaughn started wrapping dressings over the puffy mess of Rutter’s face. “His nanites are still prioritising the damage to his lungs.”

  Arland placed a hand on Rutter’s head, her eyes glittering. “Why? Why did you do that, you damn muppet?”

  Luc’s voice filtered through the overhead com speakers. “The Feynman’s hailing us.”

  Dannage looked up at the speakers. “Tell them we’ve got wounded and ask for docking clearance.”

  Luc signed off and a few moments later the gravity lurched as the Folly crossed into the Feynman’s docking bay. Dannage’s eyes kept straying to Rutter’s bandage-swathed head and the low chirping of the bio-monitor. Every time he got tangled up with things like this someone paid in blood. One of these days, he’d have to pay his own pound of flesh.

  ◊◊

  Medics from the Feynman hurried down the Folly’s loading ramp, Rutter laid out between then on a gurney. They assured Arland that Rutter was going to be fine, that the Feynman’s medical bays could deal with the injuries. If only she could believe them. Logically she knew they were right. Hells, she’d had worse herself. But seeing him like that…

  The adrenaline of the battle had faded, leaving her tired, diminished. She worked on unbuckling her armour. The heavy, carbon-weave, hard-shell chest plate clattered to the deck and she started on the arm pieces. Pain, only slightly muted by fatigue, shot through her right arm as the armour fell away, drawing a sharp cry from her.

  Vaughn disengaged from the marines and rushed to help her. His fingers probed the damaged arm, red-hot spikes of pain radiating from his touch. She gritted her teeth against it.

  “Sorry,” the doctor muttered. “It looks like a clean break, the armour acted as a splint and the bone’s already knitting, thanks to your nannites. I’d like to re-splint it for ten hours or so. Just to make sure it sets straight.”

  Conceding the point, she followed him into the Folly’s med-bay and hopped onto the bed. Vaughn gently rolled up the sleeve of her under-armour, revealing a nasty purple and black bruise all along the outside of her forearm. It must have been from where the Turned hit her. The inflatable cast tightened over her arm in a tingling discomfort that drew a pained hiss.

  “Sorry.” Vaughn helped her out of the remainder of the armour. The heavy metal framework clattered as she let it fall to the deck.

  She looked down at the scarred, black mass of metal and carbon, suddenly too tired to care about squaring it away.

  “You should rest,” Vaughn said.

  “Where’s the Captain?” Arland asked, heading for the door to the cargo hold.

  “He’s meeting with Rossini. But you need to sleep.”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” Arland replied.

  “You keep going like this, and that might be sooner than you’d like. Just don’t hit anyone with that arm. At least for the next twelve hours.”

  The doctor was right, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of admitting as much to him. The med-bay door sighed open and Arland climbed down the pair of rungs into the hold. By the looks of it, everyone had gone, leaving the bay empty bar a few abandoned crates and scuff marks on the deck plating. She padded over to the docking ramp and down into the Feynman’s flight deck.

  The Folly sat next to the battered form of Beta flight, the troop ship that Hutch had used. The marine, also out of the heavy armour, leaned against the shuttle, talking to the pilot. When he saw Arland he waved – his mechanical hand catching the light – and started toward her.

  “You guys okay? I heard it was a close call,” he said.

  She returned his wave with her inflatable cast. “Rutter’s in a bad way. We had to spacewalk it, but his helmet-” The words caught in her throat.

  Hutch put a comforting hand on her arm. “He made it and it sounds like he’s going to be fine. Did you get the nav. data?”

  “Yes.” At least they’d gotten what they’d come for, but images of Rutter lying there, face puffy and bruised made her wonder if there had been a better way. “What about you guys?”

  “Yup. Got the decryption key. It’s with the techs now. They looked at the code like a lost lover.”

  They laughed.

  “Do you know where Dannage is?” Arland asked. After everything he’d done, and with the Terran ships so close, he must be wrung out. She wished there was more she could do for him, to ease his pain. He’d say something kitsch like her mere presence helped. Muppet.

  “Yeah, he and Rossini are meeting in the forward observation lounge.”

  Arland thanked him and jogged off into the ship. Staying on the move helped her not think. And for now, she needed to not think.

  The rolling blue of the highway filtered through the floor to ceiling windows to bathe the room in constantly rippling light. It was soothing after the dirty orange of the Terran ships. Arland rolled some of the tension from her shoulders.

  “Hey.” Dannage stepped up beside her, his knuckles brushing against hers. She glanced across. The tension had faded now they were on the highway, but it was leaving indelible lines around his eyes. She hooked her fingers through his, squeezing them. They were close now, he just had to hold on.

  Behind them, Rossini, Valentine and a Lieutenant sporting engineering patches, sat around the briefing table. As they took their seats, Hale slipped in and sat on Dannage’s other side.

  Commander Valentine addressed the group, “We’re still downloading the navigation data, but this is what we have so far.” He tapped a control on his flex and the display at the head of the table flashed into life showing the instantly recognisable helix of the galaxy. Red spots flashed up, filling in across the Sagit
tarius, and Centaurus arms, mostly on the far side of the Galactic Core from the Colonised Systems in the Orion Arm.

  More and more red spots flashed in, stretching almost all the way from the Galactic core to the outer rim.

  ‘The Terran Imperium spanned over half the galaxy.’ She’d heard the words in stories and histories over and over. But Stars, seeing it was something else. Made it real. To go from that to the little more than a couple of dozen colonised systems they had now... Humanity had fallen so far, lost so much. She glanced across at Hale. What must she think of them?

  “That is a damn big region of space. Do we know exactly where the Terra system is?” Dannage asked, leaning forward.

  “Data analysis is still in progress,” Valentine said. “We expect to have an answer by the time we reach Nowhere.”

  Hale reached past him pointing to a red dot a third of the way down the Norma Arm, right in the centre of Terran space. “There it is.”

  “Or that,” Valentine said without missing a beat.

  “How do we even get there?” Arland stifled a yawn and leaned forward, gesturing at the map where Terran systems were still popping in. “That’s a long, long way away.”

  Rossini stepped up to the head of the table. “Admiral Niels has secured the use of Nowhere’s gate. Lieutenant Torrin has developed a drive system which, working in tandem with the gate, will allow transportation over massive distances.” A tap of her flex brought up a schematic of Feynman.

  “Will that really work?” Hale asked. “Can it take us that far?”

  “Oh yes,” Torrin replied. “All our simulations say it will work. And assuming it works distance isn’t an issue. As long as we have coordinates, we can get there.”

  Arland stretched, rocking back in her chair as Torrin continued to speak.

  “He reminds me of Jax,” Dannage whispered.

  “…The drive is designed to fully submerge the ship into the subspace strata. This means the drive will allow practically instantaneous ‘point-to-point’ jumps…” The science officer was warming to his subject. He seemed very sure of himself.

  Arland shifted her attention to Dannage. “Not really. Jax never talks in absolutes.” She wasn’t sure if it was a confidence thing or the Folly’s engineer’s preference for statistical data. Or maybe both. “It’s a shame she can’t be here, she’d love this.”

  Dannage smiled. “Sorry, Captain, do you mind if we loop my engineer in on this?”

  “I really don’t see the need,” Torrin said. “My team has already run all the numbers.”

  Rossini gave the Lieutenant a pointed look. “Of course, captain.”

  Dannage tapped a couple of controls on the table linking the room’s com systems to the Folly. “Jax? You there?”

  “What do you need?” Jax replied through the overhead speakers.

  “The SDF techs have a drive system that they think can take us to Terra Prime. Want to take a look.”

  “Oh wow. Yes, captain.”

  Valentine tapped his flex. “Sending you the display screens now.”

  There was a brief rattle from Jax’s keyboard.

  “This is next level.” Excitement filled Jax’s voice. “How are you breaching the subspace surface tension?”

  At Rossini’s nod, Torrin replied. “We’re planning to use the nowhere Gate to create a gravity well deep enough.”

  “That would probably do it.”

  Arland stifled another yawn, leaning forward over hands.

  “You know. We really have workshopped all this already,” Torrin replied, irritated.

  “How are you maintaining momentum relative to galactic rotation?” Jax asked.

  “Wait?” Torren looked down at his flex, frowning. “But the transition to subspace should…. Oh. Blast. The fold-space wouldn’t have any inertia.”

  “True,” Jax said, oblivious to the man’s distress. “But if the ship has its own angular momentum during the transition it should give you a reference frame. What subspace layer are you using?”

  Arland blinked, feeling the weight of fatigue pulling her shoulders down.

  “Arland?”

  She opened her eyes to find the briefing room empty, apart from Dannage. “Sorry sir, just resting my eyes.”

  Dannage laughed. “Don’t worry, Torrin didn’t take it personally. If he even noticed.” He offered Arland a hand. “As comfortable as that table looks, maybe you should find a bed.”

  She let Dannage help her up, leaning into him. A bed sounded like a very good idea. She looked up into his slate grey eyes and yawned. Okay, sleep first.

  Seventeen

  (SDF Feynman, Nowhere)

  Dannage stood on the Feynman’s forward observation deck. Five meters of reinforced transparent aluminium stood between him and the view of Nowhere. The squat drums of the three main habitats – only slightly smaller than the SDF’s new Super-Habitats – hung off to the right, their running lights blinking in sequence. Ant-like workers were repairing a damaged bulkhead on the central habitat. Small shuttles flitted between the stations. Directly in front of them was the gate. A skeletal hand, reaching out for them. The navigation lights were accompanied by the flickers of welding torches and the lights of yellow-painted worker vehicles.

  “Captain Dannage.” Admiral Niels leaned casually against the railing. “Good to see you again.”

  Dannage rubbed at his temples and turned to Niels. Damn headaches. “And you, Admiral. Thank you for doing all this.”

  “It’s for us as much as you. This could be our first steps into a brave new world.”

  “How did you convince them to let us do this?” Not that Dannage wasn’t glad the admiral had pulled off the seemingly impossible.

  “The same way you get anything done in politics.”

  “You killed everyone who didn’t agree with you?”

  Niels sighed. “Do you have such a low opinion of us? No, we bribed them. They’ll be recognised as an independent state, and they get a stake in the expedition and anything we find. Speaking of which, I think you’ve already met our liaison officer.”

  Dannage turned to see a short, stocky man with a mop of chestnut hair walk over. The newcomer wore a military pilot’s jacket with its distinctive triple zip down the front, only in orange instead of SDF blue. Dannage recognised the man, but couldn’t quite place him.

  The newcomer said, “Admiral might not have shot anyone, but I think he wanted to. Nice to meet you again, Captain Dannage.”

  Dannage immediately recognised the voice. He was the fighter captain who’d helped them last time they were here. Dannage extended his hand. “Good to meet you again. Sounds like you had quite the adventure?”

  Lloyd pumped Dannage’s hand, capping him on the shoulder. At least it wasn’t another hug.

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Niels said.

  “How many people are Nowhere sending?” Dannage asked.

  “Two scout cruisers and the crews, and my fighter team, two of us and our Hounds,” Lloyd said.

  “Hounds?” Dannage didn’t recognise the term.

  “Wolfhounds, the WFH series fighters.”

  With the Folly, the wing of dropships, two squads of Combined Air-Space Fighters, a pair of scout cruisers and the Hounds, the docking bays were going to be crowded, to say the least. Maybe if they loaded up some more support craft, the Feynman would have enough mass that they wouldn’t need the gate.

  “Are you sure this Point-to-Point drive will work?” Lloyd asked.

  “All our simulations say yes, but we won’t know for sure until we try it.” Niels shrugged. “Can’t be helped.”

  The Terran ships crowded at the edges of Dannage’s thoughts, sullen and angry. They thought he’d led them into a trap at Sillimanite, their ire seared the back of his mind. The headaches were almost constant now.

  Between Hale’s training and small doses of blockers from the Doc, Dannage’s mind was his own, for now at least.

  He scrubbed a hand over his ey
es focusing on the world around him. Talking helped, as did exploring the massive ship, heck even working out, and Arland, especially Arland. Anything that got him out of his head, distracted him.

  Lloyd shot him a concerned look. “You okay, man?”

  Dannage glanced over at Niels, the SDF had been keeping his condition close to the chest – need-to-know as they said. He was grateful for that. He got enough of the concerned looks from Arland and the others without the whole of the Feynman’s crew looking at him. And of course, there were people like Craven who’d want to study Dannage rather than help him. The thought sent shivers down his spine.

  “Just a headache is all. How long until we’re ready to go?” Dannage and Lloyd walked over to the railing and looked out at the views beyond.

  “We’ll be ready to make the jump attempt in ten hours,” Niels said finally. “In the meantime, the ships facilities are available for you and your crew.”

  Dannage nodded and turned away from the view. All it did was remind him of the painstakingly slow process. He walked off into the ship, leaving Niels and Lloyd together.

  ◊◊

  Dannage walked the Feynman’s hallways, trying not to think. Just focusing on the moment, the hush of the air circulators, the scratch of his jacket, the clip of his own footfalls against the metal deck plating. He couldn’t sleep, he was just killing time. Every time he went back to his quarters he’d just lie there staring at the overhead, waiting for sleep to come. He felt tired, there were moments when he could hardly keep his eyes open, but every time he lay back, he was wide awake again.

  His mind swirled with anxiety, his and the ship-feeds’ until he couldn’t tell his thoughts from theirs. He was orbiting a white dwarf star, drinking in its rays. Running through the empty blackness of space. Hiding amongst the debris of his companions, his friends. Their shattered hulls drifting through Feldspar in a slowly decaying orbit, but at least they were close again.

  So much loss, so much death. It almost broke him.

  “Michael?” Arland’s eyes watched him, inches away. She looked so beautiful in the half-light of his cabin. Her hair, falling around her face, was painted alternately blue and red by the running lights of a nearby ship. It brushed against his face.