Brink of Destruction, page 25
“Get to cover! Now!” He threw himself flat, getting as close to underneath the overhang of the small stone mount that he’d covered down behind as his hardsuit would permit. Around him, the rest of the phalanx did the same, scattering to cracks in the rocks and any other cover that might keep them from becoming targets of the ghost ship auxiliary that loomed quietly in the sky above, now eclipsing half the stars above the old Garkhut base.
It didn’t open fire. It loomed in the sky, motionless and silent. Even after two years, Bannon still had no idea what powered those craft, or how they stayed in flight without visible wing surfaces, rotors, or thrusters. They just hung there, making no sound, like malignant clouds.
His comm came alive, scratchy and laden with static. He suspected that ghost ship craft was pushing out some jamming. “Sierra Tango Six, this is Thunderer.” It wasn’t Captain Tomas on the comm, but Commander Fox himself. “Send coordinates and status.”
Keeping his voice low, though his transmission itself would be far more likely to be detected than his voice, Bannon rattled off the ten digits of their position. “We are currently pinned down just outside what the Shihyanese contact identified as a Garkhut base. We have been in contact with ghost ship forces inside the base, and there appears to be an auxiliary craft currently station-keeping above the structure. We are not in a position to move at present.”
A wave of static washed through his comm. The jamming was getting more intense. Commander Fox had said something, but he hadn’t received it in total. “This is Sierra Tango Six. Say again.”
“This is the Thunderer. Hold your position and go to ground. Five minutes.”
Bannon immediately passed the word over the full net, repeating it twice. Being ordered to go to ground meant one thing.
He lifted his head to check on the rest of the phalanx, making sure they were all down in cover. His helmet was picking up faint emissions from the ghost ship craft above, possibly lidar, ghostly cones of false luminescence sweeping over the terrain. Searching.
Bannon checked on Ransjunan and the Columbians last. They had received the same message, and they were also under cover, Ransjunan having crammed his considerable bulk into an opening that seemed to be far too small.
Aliens were coming out of the Garkhut base now, both the long-limbed creatures that he and his phalanx had first encountered on Zhogalgan, and the long-snouted beings they had faced briefly on Thuraban. They moved carefully and cautiously, and seemed to flinch at the faintest shadow, bulbous energy weapons pivoting spastically toward any figment of their imagination.
The violence of the Corvanites’ breakout had taken its toll on their enemy.
Bannon hadn’t started a timer when the commander had called out five minutes to contact, but he had a decently well-developed sense of time. The task force was close.
Explosions suddenly blossomed across the hull of the deep black craft hovering above the old Garkhut base. Thunder rolled as it shuddered under the impacts, and the aliens on the ground either rushed for cover or simply stared in shock at the devastation above them. The Dragon 27 starfighters flashed by overhead with massive sonic booms, shaking the wounded craft with their shock waves as they swept past, already dwindling to specks as the starships came over the horizon behind them.
The ghost ship auxiliary shuddered as beam weapons began to flare against its dark hull, the lead starships taking it under fire. The starfighters must have transmitted targeting data, because even at that range, the lasers and particle beams were devastatingly accurate. The alien vessel began to sag in the air as it was battered by directed energy and streams of ions at relativistic velocities.
The thunder would have been deafening if not for their helmets. It might still do damage through the hardsuits, but that was a concern for another time.
Long-term damage was only a worry when a man wasn’t facing imminent death.
“Fall back to Rendezvous Point Charlie!” Bannon was already on his feet, firing down at the handful of stunned aliens outside the base. “Double time!”
They had an opening, a brief moment where the aliens were off-balance and unable to engage effectively. They had to take full advantage.
Not that it was a retreat, not really. He could already see the glowing specks that were the assault shuttles coming in in the starfighters’ wake. But if that auxiliary came down, or the aliens got over their shock and effectively counterattacked, they ran the risk of losing the intelligence they’d raided the base for in the first place.
So, while they still bounded up the slope, covering each other as they went, the Corvanites and their Shihyanese and Columbian allies sped up, clambering up out of the valley as the bombardment continued. It was a difficult climb, even worse than the scramble down the eroded, terraced terrain, but training and conditioning held, and they were above the masking field in minutes, only desultory bursts of autogun fire still reaching down into the darkness, as the ghost ship auxiliary, now burning and coming apart as the starship batteries continued to carve it up, drifted toward the far side of the valley.
The starfighters circled back, slowing somewhat, their drives crackling and growling in the gray sky above, as the assault shuttles began their descent on tongues of brilliant flame, the roars of their drives shaking the ground. The First Special Tasks Phalanx reached the high ground and formed a perimeter, weapons out, waiting for their comrades to finish the descent and secure the area.
There might be other ghost ship aliens on Eredin—and Bannon did not doubt that it would take years to root out the subversives forming the cult among the local chyotsu—but that was not his phalanx’s concern. Their mission, for now, was done.
They held their position as more fire from above rained down on the masking field, waiting for the shuttles to land.
CHAPTER 31
Commander Fox paced the chamber as Bannon and the company commanders stood at parade rest and waited. They had been here for nearly an hour already, but Ransjunan was taking his time.
Bannon knew the commander wasn’t happy about relying on the Shihyanese operative for the translated data from the ghost ship terminal. He wasn’t either. While Ransjunan had carried his weight during the operation, he was still an alien and a foreigner, and Bannon was by no means convinced that he could be entirely trusted.
Finally, the door to the intel compartment slid open. Ransjunan, no longer in his hardsuit, his sleek black coverall serving only to accentuate his size and musculature, loomed in the opening. “Come. It is finished, at least as much as is possible.”
He stepped out of the way and ushered the humans, Corvanite and Columbian alike, into the room. Several computer systems, in a weird, cobbled-together amalgam of human and chyotsu design, were wired up and connected to the equally ad hoc devices that Ransjunan had used to rip the data out of the alien portal in the Garkhut base.
Bannon wasn’t particularly versed or interested in computer systems, but even he recognized that getting such wildly differing technologies to work together was an impressive bit of work. He only hoped they’d gotten something useful out of it.
The disarrayed web of computer systems was laid out on a large, circular table in the center of the room, with a holo tank in the center. This was a local chyotsu installation, operated by some of the Shihyan’s Eredinese allies—or proxies, Bannon wasn’t sure which—so the room was larger than normal for a human, but the seats were still usable, and the Corvanites and Columbians found their chairs while Ransjunan warmed up the holo tank.
“There are limits to what we can extrapolate from the alien data.” The Shihyanese officer’s voice rumbled through the room as a cascade of strange symbols rained through the tank in at least two directions. “Our knowledge of Garkhut programming, particularly this far out, has necessarily been incomplete, but there are enough commonalities that our systems can pull some data, and as the Garkhut are no longer an interstellar power, much of our knowledge increases with every system we rip. The ghost ship systems are even more esoteric, and appear to actively change and shift to defeat penetration attempts, but we have developed some techniques to gather information despite those measures.”
He touched several controls, and the swarms of strange alien symbols began to coalesce into more recognizable data. It still didn’t tell Bannon much, but then the holo resolved into what looked like a local star map, with variously colored points and lines connecting some of those stars.
“As I said, the information is incomplete, and what we have gathered is hard to piece together. However, I believe that this shows more of a pattern of both historical and current ghost ship activity in this region than we have been able to determine before.”
For a long few moments, all eyes were on that sketchy, incomplete web of connections, some of which weren’t clear at all. It was almost impossible to garner any meaning from the holo, at least unless the observer had some prior knowledge and context that Bannon lacked.
The Columbians, apparently, had that additional knowledge and context.
“There.” Talon looked over at Flint as he pointed to a faint knot in the skein of gossamer lines through the starfield. “I guess that clinches it, don’t it?”
“Looks that way, if we’re reading the data right.” The massive Columbian officer looked over at Ransjunan. “Those are ghost ship routes?”
“I believe so.” Ransjunan, as always when not in action, didn’t move when he spoke, except to set his lower pair of hands together. “As stated, the format of the data is unsure, and with the ghost ship systems being as fluid as they are, we may be looking at something entirely different from what it appears to be.”
Commander Fox said nothing, but his gaze moved from the Columbians to Shihyanese and back, his expression blank, his eyes calculating.
Bannon wondered if this was what the Columbians thought it was. It seemed thin to him, though some of what had initially led them to Eredin IV had been almost as thin. Sometimes intel came that way. It was vanishingly rare when a complete target package was simply dropped into any military’s laps, and that was on a planetary level. Scaled up to interstellar distances, and adding in the complication of alien information tech, it became far, far more difficult.
His gaze turned to Commander Fox as Flint and Talon spoke in low tones, both of them glancing toward the commander from time to time. Ransjunan was motionless and apparently completely unperturbed, but that was his way as a chyotsu.
Bannon thought he understood the Columbians’ dilemma. They were not subject to the Corvanite chain of command, but all the same, they weren’t in a position to simply fly off immediately. Their ship was somewhere on Eredin IV, since they’d evacuated with Bannon’s phalanx aboard the Thunderer’s Infiltrator, and they had committed to the reconnaissance mission at the Garkhut base instead of immediately going to retrieve it. That put them somewhat at the mercy of Corvanite honor and the decision about whether they were allies or assets.
That wasn’t a good feeling. Bannon knew it all too well after Thuraban, when he and his phalanx had been in precisely the same position with the Afa Thura.
Finally, when Commander Fox had not spoken, having now turned to the holo to study it, moving back and forth to observe different angles, Flint straightened.
“Commander Fox,” he said. “I know that your operations are a matter for your own judgment. I will not seek to dictate what the Corvanites do in this case, but I intend to reconnoiter that system.” He pointed to the same faint snarl of track lines in the starfield. “It is one of the possibilities we had picked out for a ghost ship base. If you and your command decide that it is not in Corvanite interests, I understand, but I will ask for leave to depart and retrieve our ship.”
Commander Fox turned his eyes on Flint, still without a word. To the Columbians, it might appear that he was completely unreadable, but Bannon had been the man’s chosen reconnaissance asset for long enough that he could see the consideration going on behind that blank, expressionless face.
Finally, Fox turned his gaze to Ransjunan. “And you? Do you think we should look at that system, too?”
Bannon found it interesting that the commander used the term “we.” He wondered if Ransjunan had picked up on it. From the faint flickers in their expressions, he was sure the Columbians had.
“Yes.” If Ransjunan had any strong feelings about the matter, it was impossible for Bannon to tell. “While I cannot know your objectives in this region, I can extrapolate that you have some degree of concern about the ghost ships. I believe that Flint is right, and that this is the locus of their operations in this region.”
Fox looked down at the holo again, then with his arms folded across his chest plate, he nodded. “I would agree.” He looked up at the Columbians. “I will release you to retrieve your ship. You are not Corvanites, and therefore not under my command, but if you would have our support—or lend us your support—then we will rendezvous in orbit before departing to the wormhole emergence point.” He looked over at Bannon, then back to the Columbians and Ransjunan. “The ghost ships have directly targeted Corvanite interests, and have attempted to inflame a war that may have been inevitable, or may have been avoidable. It has become clear to me—and the Council—that even if we embrace that war, the ghost ships will continue to work against us and make it far more costly than it should otherwise be.”
Bannon knew that the Council as a whole hadn’t agreed to that premise, but the Columbians didn’t need to know that, and this far out, the strategic decisions were the commander’s to make anyway.
Flint nodded. “We will meet you in orbit.” With vague salutes, almost more waves, the two Columbians turned and headed for the door. Ransjunan watched them go, his golden eyes turning toward Commander Fox as they left.
Fox had little more to say to the chyotsu. Offering a salute almost as vague as the Columbians’—odd for a Corvanite, except that it was more a gesture of comradeliness than a military salute—he beckoned to his subordinates and headed for the door.
Bannon fell in behind his commander, the other subordinate unit commanders joining them, with a few glances at the towering Shihyanese operative as they went. Doubtless Ransjunan would disassemble his conglomeration of computer hardware before joining the Columbians again, and it seemed that Commander Fox wanted to speak to his men away from Shihyanese or Columbian ears.
They didn’t stop within the chyotsu structure. Commander Fox headed straight for the landing pads where the command shuttles waited. Smaller and more agile than the drop shuttles, they were angular wedge shapes set on slender landing jacks, their noses pointed into the darkling sky. Even then the commander didn’t slow down, but continued straight to the ladder into the command shuttle.
Apparently this conversation wasn’t even going to happen on the planet’s surface.
Commander Fox spoke just before he mounted the ladder. “All-hands meeting aboard the Thunderer in two hours.” Then he began to climb.
Bannon reached up and grasped the ladder to follow, glancing back at the plain, concrete buildings behind them, and beyond at the badlands where the old Garkhut base was still being ransacked by the task force’s tech crews. There was reason for pause. He imagined that was why the commander wanted to speak aboard the ship. If all the indicators were accurate, they were about to go to war with a faction from somewhere beyond the Orion Arm, one that had been waging proxy wars against this region of space since well before humanity had reached for the stars.
It was a daunting prospect, and yet, for a Corvanite, a thrilling one.
Death comes. Let us go and meet it.
***
Commander Fox and his company commanders were all still in their hardsuits, having gone straight from the docking bays to the ready room. Fox looked around at each captain before finally resting his eyes on Bannon. “You have the most experience with these ghost ship aliens, Lieutenant Bannon. We would hear your thoughts.”
Bannon looked around the room. “I can’t say whether or not to believe what Ransjunan says about the ghost ships and their history with the chyotsu. But I agree with the commander: these aliens are playing both sides against the middle, and from the looks of things, they’ve been doing it for a long time. They are playing for keeps, as the Columbians would say. I saw them annihilate a megacity in order to preserve an alliance they did not appear to be directly involved in. I have seen them attack us, attack the Zolarians, act as spoilers to keep things moving regardless. I believe that they are a greater threat than the Zolarians, possibly even the Newlanders themselves.”
That raised some eyebrows, but no one contradicted him. Most of these men—Captain Haarot included, the scarred and unforgiving company commander who had relinquished Bannon’s phalanx to Commander Fox after tapping his subordinate for greater responsibility in the first place—had seen many of the same things that Bannon had seen, especially on Zhogalgan. The commander had briefed them all after that encounter.
Another commander might look around and ask if anyone else had anything to add. Commander Fox didn’t work that way. He simply surveyed the gathered subordinate commanders and waited. None spoke. None disagreed.
The massive leader nodded. “It is decided, then. Prepare your companies for combat. It looks like it will take several wormhole transitions to reach the target system, so this could be several weeks. Prepare for anything, but also make sure your men are getting some rest.” He glanced at the holo plot in the center of the ready room. It currently showed none of the vague intelligence data, not even the pinpointed system, but all of the officers present had been sure to record the position of that distant system for later analysis. “I do not need to tell you to expect the unexpected, and a considerable challenge when we reach this system, gentlemen. Make sure we are ready.
