Ghost Soldiers (13 page)

"I think we can assume that that thing is what finished off the crew."

A long whistling sound filled the habitation dome, and they immediately recognized it from the imagery.

"It's back," said Lieutenant Armstrong.

Both men moved back into low stances, their carbines raised and looking for signs of danger. The others did the same, each operating silently, but on command via their networked communication. Spartan was the first to see it, and if it had been any other man, he might have frozen, but he watched in stunned silence as the distorted shape moved along the far wall. The scenery shifted in shape and detail as it drifted past, like droplets of water running down vegetation.

"Safety off, get ready."

Fifteen Grunts activated their carbines simultaneously. Spartan watched their power levels reach operating levels in less than a second. These were the first batch of the production models XC1 carbines. The power level had been reduced fifteen percent, to give a longer firing time, reduced charging requirements, and allow more of the weapon's mass to be given over to cooling.

"Major, b...!" Private Watkins yelled.

The Grunt exploded in a flash of silver and blue, sending shards of shattered robot in all directions. The wall to its right blurred once more, and a shimmer flashed in front of another Grunt. Again it was ripped apart. Sergeant Tyler took aim with his carbine and pulled the trigger.

"Open fire!"

Pulses of energy released from the carbines as all thirteen remaining warriors fought back. Some were lowered down to their knees, but three were still upright. The guns were powerful, and each blast burned holes through plastic and metal alike. The screaming sound filled the dome, and Spartan's internal speakers automatically lowered the volume to little more than a distraction.

"Form into fireteams, separate and support."

Just as they had been trained, the squad quickly split apart into three smaller units. As they did so, the fireteams used their lamps to light larger parts of the domed structure. Parts of the ceiling broke away and crashed into the middle of one team, and as they jumped aside, the thing arrived. Spartan took aim, but there was little to aim at, just the blur, and then two more Grunts were gone.

"Khan, we're under attack by something..."

More light flashed and sparks flickered along the ceiling. An arc of energy leapt over a hundred metres and exploded upon hitting a bulkhead. It then flashed back and struck another Grunt. It shuddered, twisted about, and collapsed to the ground, pumping smoke.

"...something unknown!"

Three of the Grunts ran back and slid behind the vertical computer unit. A blur of energy ripped down towards them and smashed it apart. The three machines scattered from the blast and returned fire. One rolled over, and even as it righted itself, it was shooting. Spartan smiled at the skill on display, even if they appeared to be having little effect on the thing. More of them were entangled with the blur, making it impossible to open fire without hitting friendly units.

Screw this.

Spartan knew what lay before him, remotely piloted machines, not people. He pulled the trigger and saturated the area, hitting the light distortion, as well as one of the Grunts. Each blast from the weapons struck with incredible heat, itself enough to burn through and vaporise almost any material.

"Bring it down!"

The other Grunts joined in, with the unfortunate fireteam in the middle taking three more casualties. Superheated blasts of green matter blasted limbs off the Grunts, or punched holes into the ruined interior of the dome. Some must have struck the distortion, yet there was no slowing it down. Another Grunt lost a leg and dropped to the ground, and then the thing was gone. Spartan ran to the right and slid down alongside a fallen comrade.

"All units dig in. If it moves, kill it!"

The shape moved off behind structures that looked like hydroponic units, though each was now little more than a dark mess, and only dust and marks remaining of whatever had been there before. Spartan tracked the distortion, realising where it was going.

It's blocking our escape. I don't think so.

"1st Platoon, converge on the target. Keep it trapped."

Spartan rose to his feet and found just six of his comrades still functioning, with a seventh hobbling along on just one leg. The light inside the dome had dropped, and with just half of the squad remaining, the place suddenly felt a lot larger and more dangerous. Shapes came in from the left, and Spartan relaxed just a fraction as 2nd Squad moved in.

"One fireteam provide cover, the rest of you, with me!"

A single five-man team stayed back, along with the single damaged Grunt from 1st Squad. Sixteen Grunts rushed back into the blue passageway, Spartan at their head. Time seemed to slow down as they ran directly into their assailant. It was big; Spartan could see that even at this distance, its body shimmered and crackled. Its form was roughly bipedal but moved with stiff, yet fast movements that betrayed it as a machine.

"Put it down!"

The Grunts continued to move forward, unleashing a devastating volley. The super-heated balls of encased plasma struck all around the thing, and many shots hit the centre of the blur. Each impact sent flashes of energy through the thing. One struck near its legs, and a bright flash filled the passageway. By the time the light faded, it was amongst them.

"Major!" Lieutenant Armstrong yelled.

The pulsating arm of the thing smashed down and crushed the officer in an instant. And for a brief moment, the flashing and blurring seemed to shift, giving Spartan a glimpse of a massive machine, something that was more demon than man. It twisted about to strike him, but Spartan ducked down low, rolled to one side, and opened fire. The smoothbore weapon might lack range, but this close, its plasma core should have been able to rip the target apart.

"Keep fighting."

A section of the enemy warrior broke off and spun across the ground to land near Spartan. He glanced down and looked at the shape. He was pleasantly surprised to see it was nothing more than metal, though of a hue he had never seen before. The machine pulsed and swung its arms. Two more Grunts were ripped apart, but Spartan was able to use the brief moment to blast it again.

"Keep hitting it!"

At that moment, the machine struck Spartan in the chest and sent him flying through the air. He tensed his body even though he was not actually present. The impact sent a shudder through his body, and then he was falling to the ground. Another Grunt hit the ceiling and dropped down front first. That was the moment Spartan could feel the very ground begin to shudder, as though engines or weapons were powering up.

Getting bored with this.

As the machine ripped into the Grunts, Spartan leapt up; he was fast and agile, slowed only by the artificial muscles of the Grunt. He rushed ahead and struck the machine. The pulsing energy flickered once more, and then he could see the thing in all its glory. Any other man might have hesitated, but not him. The massive metal demon meant nothing to him right now, just another enemy he needed to kill. Spartan jammed the muzzle of his carbine into its chest and pulled the trigger repeatedly.

"Die!"

The fully artificial brain has been a goal of science for millennia. By creating even a partially functioning mind, it would be possible to perform pioneering medical research, perhaps even modify and repair biological brains. Then there would be the other applications, ones that could see great intelligence being used in trade, industry, engineering, and of course, war. What greater weapon could there be than giving a weapon intelligence above and beyond that of the warrior wielding it? Even the greatest computer models have failed to match the intricacy and abilities of that one organ. The Biomechs worked around the issue by growing or harvesting brains, and modifying or training them for other tasks. This became apparent during the seizure of their technology in the latter phase of the Great Uprising. Few expected to find such advances deep in the recesses of space, a remnant of a forgotten age where intelligent life reached its pinnacle, and then vanished just as quickly, to leave nothing but the mysteries and myths of the ancient Trusska.

Computer Science 101, 7
^th
Edition

IAS Euryale, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

The derelict filled the largest section of the mainscreen. There was also the videostream coming in from Spartan's Grunt. Other imagery showed a schematic of the ship, as well as the positions of all six squads from the two platoons. Fifty-five warriors, each of them moving through the derelict and hunting for signs of the missing crew.

"I cannot believe what I'm seeing here," said Captain Delatorre, "What is this thing? It is showing as nothing but noise on the sensors. Are there more, or is it just one?"

The battle inside the ship was unlike anything any of them had seen before. The Alliance super soldiers were fast, strong, and capable, yet this freak of science and nature was almost impossible to fathom. Every single image recorded by the Grunts was distorted, as if water droplets had obscured the imagery.

"2nd Platoon is moving in to assist him," said Khan, "This warrior is new to me."

The image of its face was to the right of the videostream. He was still down on the operations level, but staying in contact with both the deck officers and Spartan.

The videostream blurred once more, and a broken Grunt flew past before striking a wall. Captain Delatorre moved the imagery aside and focused on the derelict.

"Spartan needs assistance, but more soldiers isn't going to do it. Either he destroys it face to face, or we'll have to finish the job from here."

He moved the model of the derelict around and pointed to the habitation dome.

"This is the scene of the battle, and according to Spartan, it is the largest section in the derelict. If Spartan fails, we will be all that can stop this thing. We will target the connection of the dome to the hull at these points and trap it inside the dome."

Scores of small green diamonds appeared to mark locations.

"Direct fire at these points will sever the links between the hull and the habitation dome. Once knocked out, the dome will effectively be sealed as a tomb to this thing.

Five-Seven checked the schematic, but he didn't seem convinced.

"These attacks should cause enough damage, but our internal scans are not complete. There is a good chance the dome is attached to a central spine, and that will require more time and more gunfire. What if this creature can operate in a vacuum? It might not even be alive."

The mainscreen showed the vast dark object, still lit by the flood lamps fitted to the drones. No matter how many times Captain Delatorre looked at it, he still considered it to be more a great monolith than a spacecraft, yet vaster than any space faring ship the crew had encountered so far. At present there was no sign of power from the outside, though systems were clearly online.

"Spartan is dealing with the internal threat. In the meantime, we have our own mission to complete."

He nodded at the ship schematic.

"What do we know so far about this vessel?" he asked rhetorically.

Five-Seven looked at him and answered, assuming it was a question that needed answering.

"The derelict is of unknown origin, Captain. At least part of it is based upon Trusskan ships; the computer confirms that much. We can already match almost three percent to data in the updated archive."

He then moved a page of data away to examine the next part.

"Its age is uncertain, but the levels of wear and decay would indicate it has been drifting for many years, perhaps even centuries. Its main engines are worn, but it looks like they have not been fired in many years."

Five-Seven looked away from the screen and to the Captain. He had the cold, uncaring eyes often associated with reptiles, yet there was nothing unfriendly about the creature.

"My assessment would be that this vessel was launched a long time ago, and was aimed directly at the T'Karan System, to meet with the inhabitants, the T'Kari. Though a long distance from their star, they ended up close, in astronomical terms."

Captain Delatorre rubbed his brow.

"I don't get it. The Trusska were all killed, though, or so the story goes. So who were these people? Refugees, settlers, escaped prisoners? Why did they not succumb to the same fate as their race?"

Five-Seven's facial muscles twitched, but he had no answer to the question. Captain Delatorre placed his forehead in his hands and sighed.

"The ship has given up little information so far. We have to learn why they were sent out here. There will have been a reason, and that might help us find out what happened to ANS Orion and her crew. How could an advanced warship be lost against a derelict such as this?"

Captain Delatorre nodded slowly in agreement.

"True. And the fact that the crew is gone, and the derelict in such poor form, could indicate they were boarded or overrun at some point in the past."

He glanced at the live feed of the battle. More Grunts had arrived, and they were busy fanning out through the habitation dome. The visual feeds from their heads showed almost constant gunfire, the flashes from their carbines lighting up the dark interior of the derelict. It was fascinating, almost memorising to see. Khan pointed at new shapes.

"Look, they have tagged new targets. They are smaller than the primary target."

Captain Delatorre squinted, but it was almost impossible to make out a shape. They seemed about the size of a man, but like the larger one were blurred and obscured. Five-Seven looked away as flashing icons caught his attention. He gulped in air as he realised what he was seeing, an unusual occurrence for any of the Thegns.

"What is it?" Captain Delatorre asked.

There was no sense of urgency at first, not until the computer began to assess the transmission. Captain Delatorre continued to find his attention drawn to the increasingly odd battle aboard the derelict. The flagged areas of the ship showed up in more than a dozen locations, but with the majority on the one flank, amongst what appeared to be a single long segment. It was one of the many marked areas that looked like a ship, or perhaps large parts of a ship. More areas lit up as coloured icons identified different emissions and signatures.

"It is unusual, and unexpected. Computers are detecting radar scans coming from the target; their external sensors are active. Tracking seventeen separate units, and all are examining us," said Five-Seven.

Captain Delatorre shook his head.

"I don't get it. According to the data from Khan, they have found no survivors, just bodies, if you can call it that. They are long dead, with no signs of recent habitation for a very long time."

He looked almost disappointed.

"There is nothing alive on that ship."

Five-Seven pointed at the mainscreen.

"Perhaps our enemy is not alive. Something is attacking Spartan and his warriors."

Captain Delatorre was confused for a moment.

"Yes, but is it the defences of the derelict, or its crew?"

He had visions of the undead, like something from a horror novel, but then he recalled the technology of the Biomechs, and even the virtual presence warriors they were using. There were a hundred different ways that war machines could be operated without direct involvement of human operators.

"AI, it must be a machine intelligence of some kind."

Five-Seven seemed to agree, spoke with his tactical officer for a moment, and then turned back.

"That would make sense. We have uncovered zero signs of life aboard, but something is controlling the ship's components, and then there is the thing Spartan is fighting."

Captain Delatorre considered the evidence for a few more seconds.

"I suspect this creature is the primary reason there are no survivors. What if the Trusska were trying to escape and one of these things made it aboard?"

Five-Seven took no more than three seconds to make up his mind.

"Perhaps. But the creature could also have been encountered on their journey. It may simply be the symptom, not the source of the enemy. All we know is that it is powerful, advanced, and since its arrival, we've lost an entire ship and many crew."

Captain Delatorre nodded.

"Either way, this level of advancement is an opportunity. We cannot allow..."

There was no time to explain further as alarms activated automatically.

"Incoming!" yelled the tactical officer.

Colour icons tagged the approaching gunfire as it covered the short distance of just over three thousand kilometres. Though six times further away that their original position, it was still a miniscule journey for a projectile travelling in a frictionless environment.

Five-Seven didn't wait for orders and hit the button to activate the automated defences. It was critical that such orders could be given quickly and efficiently in a crisis. The myriad of small particle gun turrets activated immediately. Each operated independently, and both tracked the warheads and opened fire without manual intervention.

"Turrets active, defences fully operational."

Captain Delatorre walked along the deck, checking the status of all systems. One of the biggest improvements with the Confederate class was to massively upgrade its defences. There were now all manner of weapons in use, but one thing was certain; IAB warships would always be outnumbered. They would need to hold off missile, gunfire, and fighters, and the new particle weapon system fitted throughout was the logical upgrade.

"Good work."

The ship shook gently, maintaining a massive concentration of fire due to its reliance only on energy. The over engineered phased fusion powerplant could keep the guns running for hours at a time, with no need for extra ammunition. The ship weathered the first bombardment for more than twenty seconds, and still the derelict blasted away at them.

"Sir, they are trying to breach our security protocols. Something is inside the aft turret computers."

Five-Seven spun about, examining the error reports coming in from the computers.

"Disable aft turrets. Do it now!"

His voice was still calm but the urgency obvious. The guns deactivated in seconds, but not before opening fire on their own hull. As they powered down, Captain Delatorre pointed at the derelict.

"Bring us about and target their weapon systems. Do not hit Spartan and our assault teams. Activate forward cannons and fire at will."

Five-Seven relayed the orders to the crew, and the capacitors began the build-up for the pair of quadruple particle cannons. Unlike the turrets, these weapons required a few seconds to prepare before firing. Moments before they should have fired, the entire ship shuddered. Emergency alarms sounded, followed by dozens of warnings on the screen.

"What's happening?" Captain Delatorre asked.

Five-Seven was already interrogating the computer system, simultaneously taking in oral reports from his engineering sections. With the networked systems separated, it was now impossible to directly manage any of the primary systems, so he was making notes on his system as the information came in from his officers. Finally, he looked at the Captain and shook his head.

"Our aft turrets have reactivated. I have teams cutting the hard links... but right now, they are fully operational and are targeting our communication and defence systems."