Ghost Soldiers (20 page)

You idiot. Just get inside, and fast!

They had been in the void for just five seconds when the turrets hit the dropship. Spiteful performed a triple roll and avoided the first burst, only to move too high and take the combined fire of three flank turrets. The projectiles smashed into the hull one after another, every round hitting with pulverising force. The sleek, swing-wing dropship shuddered from the battering and then broke apart into a myriad of pieces. Spartan looked back just as Spiteful was lost, and the turrets were turning their attention to Fury.

"Kanjana, get out!"

Fury kept close to the hull of the derelict and accelerated away, keeping a distance of little more than ten metres from the plating. The turrets rotated to follow the target, but she moved too low and too fast for them to have a chance to track her.

"Magnificent," said Khan.

Then the dropship was hit by something. It was not gunfire, and only when the port engine ripped from its mountings, could Spartan see it was the broken wreckage from one of the X1 drones. Fury seemed to limp through space, but that gave the turrets the chance they needed. Those further away managed to lock on, and as Fury tumbled away, she was hit. Just the one turret was in the right position, but it sent a long burst that hit the nosecone and then worked its way to the rear. Just as it reached the last metre of hull, the dropship exploded in a yellow flash.

"Kanjana!"

There was nothing he could do, but the loss of the dropship brought back that familiar stab in the chest, one that reminded him that although he could withstand injury or loss himself, the loss of others was always a struggle. A reminder that the life he'd chosen was one of death and violence, that ultimately resulted in the deaths of so many around him.

Khan had already turned away and was busy barking orders to the cloud of marines heading for the derelict. The majority were on course, but at least five had been pushed away towards the rectangular ring running around the entrance to the landing bay.

"Spartan, watch yourself."

He twisted about and found a girder arm jutting out. There were no manoeuvring jets, so he used his armoured limbs to beat it away so that he moved off to the right. It threw him off course, but not enough for him to miss the entrance. Once certain he was safe, he looked back at the crippled shape of Fury. The flames subsided almost immediately, but the craft was already a total loss. He felt a lump in his throat until his scanners detected the IFF signatures of two crew drifting towards the derelict. Both wore their naval PDS suits and flailed about, moving uncontrollably.

Good news at last.

"Spartan, we're clear. We'll find another way inside."

Kanjana sounded calm, but Spartan could sense the fear in her tone, always incredibly calm and to many, a little cold. He knew her much better, and the escape had shaken her.

"Well done. Get inside as quickly as you can."

He wanted to go back, but there was little he could do to help. It would take up to thirty minutes to reach the area they were heading for. He'd need to take others with him to help, when what was actually needed was leadership. For now he would simply have to remain thankful they had cleared the explosion. As if to emphasise the point, a pair of the X1 drones moved overhead. There was no sound, just the flashes from their guns blasting a turret not far from where Kanjana was. Green pulses leapt out from their guns, and then they were gone as quickly as they'd arrived.

Concentrate on the task at hand. Secure a landing ground and get everybody inside!

"All units get inside and fast."

There was nothing any of them could do as they moved into the cavernous hangar space. Crane arms extended out from the flanks, marking out this part of the ship as designed for loading and unloading heavy cargo. One marine struck an arm and was knocked out cold. A second grabbed him before he could drift away.

Here it comes.

Spartan reached out as he spun towards the side of the entrance. He was just inside the inner lip, but the chance of bumping and falling back into space was still a real fear. As soon as he made contact, he grabbed the nearest piece of metal and twisted his body about before releasing. Now he was nearing the floor, and at an even greater speed. It was a mess, but by the time Spartan's feet touched the floor of the landing deck, he could see all but three had made it inside.

Khan flexed his arms and activated his flood lamps. The Maverick armoured marines did the same, and the conventional IAB marines moved in around them. Spartan did the same, and his lamps came on, bathing the interior of the long abandoned landing deck in pale light.

"Everybody inside. It's time."

They moved, lifting and lowering their feet one at a time. There was a very small level of artificial gravity here, right on the outer ring of the landing deck, and no atmosphere to provide air or something for sound to vibrate through. The Mavericks looked like monsters as they made slow progress inside the long-abandoned Khreenk cruiser that made up just a small portion of the derelict. Up ahead were dozens more marines, Thegns, and crew, moving out of the side doors of the dropships. Satisfied he was in position, Spartan activated his weapon systems. The HEC-1 lifted up out of its mount and panned left and right before returning back inside the armour.

Systems fully operational, good, now we take this thing.

CCS Thunder and CCS Pathfinder were the first Liberty class ships to have ever engaged another in a pitched battle. The unusual circumstances of the engagement have been classified for many years, but what is known is that a renegade captain took command of CCS Thunder and attempted to take her to Mars colony. CCS Pathfinder ran across her as she entered the Sol Spacebridge, and from there the encounter became violent. A day later both ships were dead in space, with not a single soul alive to tell the tale. Only the heavily redacted log of Captain Perkins, of CCS Pathfinder provides any information on the events.

Great Ships of the Line

Kha’Dri World Ship, Taxxu Prime, Centauri Alliance

Gun walked around the nose of IAS Titan for the second time. She was effectively identical from the outside to her two sisters, New Carlos and Euryale. The colour scheme was uninspiring, just the usual battleship grey, but marked with the reminders of her bloody battle in orbit around Karnak. The great double-ring nacelle at the rear dwarfed the rest of her structure, so that even the beams and antenna extending from her bow seemed insignificant. Standing next to Gun was Chief Engineer Simpson, a diminutive looking middle-aged man, with no hair and a large oversized belly. His overalls were filthy, and a greasy stain ran from his cheek to his left ear.

"She'll power up, but I can't promise you much if you take her into combat. The primary weapons are all non-functional."

Gun lifted his shoulder slightly.

"So? I don't need weapons, just engines. Tell me straight, will she get me to my destination?"

The man didn't look happy, but he did give Gun the nod.

"She'll make it there, of that you can have my word. As to whether she'll get you back, well, that's another story. In any case, I've boosted the engine output. It is not much, but it will shave fifty minutes, maybe an hour off your journey time."

Gun appeared satisfied with that.

"Very well, then, good work. Get the rest of them clear. We will exit the bay within the hour. You have until then to get me as much extra functionality as you can before I leave."

The man lifted an eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, I'm not staying here, Colonel. I'm coming with you. I can continue my work on the ship as we go."

He then grinned.

"If something happens to her, you'll wish you'd brought me along."

Gun knew better than to argue with the man and let him move off to continue with his work. He walked to the port side of the nose of the ship and looked up at the batch of massive gun barrels. Technically, they were more emitters than barrels, but the businessmen that made up a large part of the Carthago Trade Consortium had argued for them. The designers wanted to keep the weapons hidden discreetly inside the ship, but the businessmen wanted something a little more ostentatious, a styling change that marked the ship as more than just the some of her parts. This method of design by committee had resulted in one of the ugliest and most aggressive looking ships in the Alliance.

Great timing, Spartan, as always.

He looked to his right and at the shape of IAS New Carlos. The ship was structurally complete, but after the missions involving both Euryale and Titan, she had been partially stripped to rebuild her internal systems and cooling units. Secondary units for the nacelles were being installed to ensure the main engines would be operational, even if the ship suffered significant battle damage. This was also a requirement by Alliance officials for sanctioned travel in the major inhabited star systems of Proxima Centauri and Sol. There were real fears that the new type of engine could cause catastrophic damage if it malfunctioned near human worlds or colonies. Oddly enough, the other races had little concern about the vessels. A single female engineer popped her head out of a hatch and called out to him.

"Colonel. Just your equipment to go, then we're ready for you to come aboard."

He nodded and twisted about as he watched the last motorised pallet being taken inside. There were multiple padded cases and each marked with his name and rank. One item was lying flat and took up over half the unit.

That's more like it.

While the weapons and tech were boxed, the full JAS armour system was fitted to a skeleton mount, the only way to keep it in the correct posture for insertion into the ship’s armoury. Gun noted the marks on the plating as it moved up the ramp and inside the vast hull of the IAS Titan. Like many of the sets of armour used by the IAB, it had sustained its fair share of damage. Even as he looked at it, he felt a twinge of discomfort in his flank. He moved his hand down and felt the areas where his body had been punctured on Karnak. A normal human would have died from the injuries, but it was little more than a mild discomfort to him.

Even though they were about to leave, there were still scores of people all over the ship, and while some were still working on the hull, most were removing the scaffolding surrounding the vessel. He shook his head, and then spotted the face of General Black. The man had approached with surprising stealth, and that concerned Gun.

"How is she looking?"

Gun sighed.

"Not great. The damage at Karnak was substantial. We will be leaving, though, no matter her state."

The officer moved closer to him until they were just a couple of metres apart. He looked up at the ship and touched one of the wide pylons that extended far out in front of her bow and angled downwards. Even though the ship was resting on massive clamps, the hull appeared to be a very long distance away.

"She was the first built, was she not?"

Gun nodded.

"Yes. The construction of each began at different times, but Titan was the first to have her metal cut. SWD engineers had designed her based on the information from Sol and On'Sarax. At first CTC would only give us funding for one ship, but the development costs are the same for one ship, or ten. Spartan encouraged them to budget for nine complete ships, constructed in batches of three. By the time Titan had been finished, the other two of the first tranche were well under construction."

He then nodded off to the right where another dozen massive nacelles were being assembled.

“The guts of the ship are one of the most valuable commodities now, and CTC are working on ways to manufacture the equipment at their new factories on Carthago. Mass production of the engines will make them the richest corporation history."

He licked his mouth.

“Enough business, though. The important thing for us is that we have another three ships under production, with parts to build another three in the future.”

He would have said more, but already he could see the General looked uncomfortable. It wasn't that he was nervous or even concerned at speaking with Gun; there was something else. And knowing the man the way Gun did, he knew it must be very serious.

"There's something you need to know, Gun, something unexpected."

"I thought as much."

That intrigued him, perhaps more so than anything the man had said since his arrival on the World Ship. So far everything had proven a little linear, and in his experience, there was always a little more to events than simply cause and consequence. The General moved closer and lifted a device from his pocket between them. It emitted a high-pitched whistle that settled down to a mild irritation. Gun cocked his head in an odd manner.

"Privacy module, really?"

The unit was rarely used outside of meeting with third parties, and its use made Gun immediately suspicious of what was going on. The General was one of the most experienced Special Forces leaders, but this was still strange for him.

"My security detail picked up a transmission, one that came from Sector Sixteen."

"So?"

The General almost looked pained to continue.

"It came from IAS Euryale on a back-channel maintenance report, and it went directly to the office of Mr Walker and CTC."

Gun pulled his head back a moment.

"Mr Walker, why? All traffic should be passed directly through our command and control centre."

He turned and pointed off into the innards of the ship.

"We can manage the ships remotely from inside this place. Eventually, we plan on operating Confederate class ships without deck crews."

He then twisted back and looked carefully at the man.

"And you're telling me that somebody on our ship is in contact with the company man, and not us?"

General Black nodded ever so slowly.

"Yes. And there is something else, Gun. Something that worries me a great deal."

He moved away at a slow walk, so Gun did the same. They walked parallel to the hull of the ship, but due to her vast size of four hundred metres, they seemed to make little progress.

"A message was sent back from the same office. It was heavily encoded and programmed to automatically corrupt. My intelligence unit are doing their best, but so far we've got nothing more than time stamps."

Gun shrugged.

"It's unexpected, but it could be nothing. The IAB is fully supported by the work of Mr Walker and the company. Even so, he has no business in communicating with IAB officers or vessels. CTC manages the Special Weapons Division. Our Brigade is none of their damned business..."

General Black nodded.

"That's what worries me. According to our log, the message from this facility reached Euryale, and less than sixty seconds later contact was lost with multiple ground units on the derelict. Soon after that, we lost primary contact with the ship, and only fragmentary since then."

Gun stopped and rubbed his face.

"You think CTC wanted the assault to fail, why? That would cost a lot of IAB equipment, and now the ship is dead in space."

"Yes, my thoughts as well. We'd been down on hardware and in their debt for starters. Every piece of kit they build for us adds to the price we pay them in technology."

He reached out and grasped the massive, muscular left arm of Gun.

"Keep this between us for now. But do me a favour. While you're out there, stay in contact with me, and our control station only. We'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

Gun started to move away, and then looked back at the General.

"If Mr Walker or CTC have double-crossed me, Spartan, Khan, and my friends..."

"I know. He will be in trouble."

Gun opened his mouth, baring his teeth as he often did when pleased or excited.

"Oh, much more than that. I have many friends back home, and if Mr Walker and CTC want a war, he can have one."

Gun walked towards the ramp leading up into the ship, and as General Black watched him leave, he began to wonder if passing on the information was the best thing he could have done. Gun might be his second-in-command, but he was also the cultural leader of tens of thousands of Jötnar, an entire species built for one thing only, war.

* * *

Unidentified Derelict, Sector Sixteen, T’Karan

Spartan moved slowly, taking each pace with as much care as the next while looking for the ever-present signs of danger. His bulky suit might have been a hindrance, but luckily for him, this part of the ship was surprisingly spacious even though it had clearly been unused in a very long time. A look to the top right showed they had just thirty-five hours until IAS Euryale self-destructed, thereby denying it of use to the enemy entity, and also leaving them trapped on the derelict.

We could do with more time. Thirty-five hours to secure this ship, or to destroy the entity.

He would have liked to have double the time, but any more would risk the chance the enemy could leave the derelict and somehow board Euryale. With the course already laid in, it would be easy for the thing to be jettisoned and still finally reach Euryale. Unfortunately, this would be right after Spartan and the rest of the crew were already dead. Then Spartan realised the thing might have its own way to travel between the ships, a lifeboat or escape unit of some kind. It was an outside chance, but just the possibility sent a chill through his body, and that left him determined to resolve the problem as quickly as possible.

"Khan, keep them moving. We have to end this before the clock stops."