Assault on Ambrose Station: A Seth Donovan Novel (31 page)

51.

Once more, I dreamed of the Eye of Ar’od Dar. I had begun to dread these dreams, the once peaceful place my mind could wander when I slept. The darkness that used to comfort me instead hid all manner of terror and tension. The purple haze that began to permeate the sky above the sea of data motes looked more and more sinister. It was a childish notion, but I began to feel this unspeakable horror at looking up into the sky and seeing this eye bear down upon me.

I slept fitfully. We had been travelling for several hours already, and I needed my troops in top condition, so I let them rest as long as we needed to make sure that Rego was in a stable condition. When we got the call from Ormund about the Spider pulling out to go rescue the Dreaming, I didn’t tell everyone right away. It could wait until the rest period was over.

Eventually, I gave up on sleep altogether. I looked over at Artemis, still in a deep slumber. I had never seen her look so peaceful. It was as if a great burden had been lifted off her. I didn’t know if what she told me was the truth, not one-hundred percent, but it seemed to be near enough to what I’d been suspecting all along that it was good enough for me. I thought about talking it over with the squad, but thought better of it. I considered discussing it with Kekkin and Renthal, but decided it would change little. They were already committed to our part of the mission.

It seemed that the galaxy, or at least my part of it, was going through a time of upheaval. All-out war in the Eridani System. That meant at least the possibility of skirmishes in adjacent systems. The Ghantri fleet disappearing weeks before the Jump Gate to the system closes, possibly forever. The Destroyers returning, the Esper Monarchy scheming, Korvelli-Xue defying the Protectorate…it may not look like it, but this time a year ago was one of the most peaceful times in my life.

And here I was, deep in the guts of a place I’d vowed never to return to.

“A credit for your thoughts.” said Tac. He was watching me as I mulled these thoughts over.

“What’s that?”

“An old Earth axiom. I read it in one of System Operator Fel’negr’s historical books.”

“Do you worry about the future?”

“Not at the moment. I am confident that Private Rhondel is alert and capable of raising the alarm should he detect a Ghantri patrol.”

“Not that. I mean our future, the state of the galaxy, the coming war, whether we can afford to pay off the next round of payments on the Dreaming. You know, future?”

“Should I?”

“There is a lot of uncertainty, out there.”

“There always in, there are many factors that are out of our control. The fate of the Eridani System, for one. What purpose would worrying serve, if nothing we do is capable of impacting it?”

“I wish I could analyse everything as logically as you do.”

“I wish I could extrapolate answers with no data, but I can’t.”

“Did you hear what Artemis told me?”

“I did.”

“What are your thoughts on that?”

“Do you remember what I thought of the Esper Monarchy?”

“You consider them an enemy. For killing your old crew.”

“I am unsure how I must think of Artemis, now. Until I learned of her true allegiance, I considered her a friend – much like you or Fel’negr. To have her as an enemy would be a logical step, since I’ve already classified the Epser Monarchy as an enemy, and she has admitted to be a Monarchy agent.”

“But?”

“I am conflicted. My cognitive processors cannot seem to agree on the correct classification for her.”

“She wasn’t responsible for the death of your old crew. If you remember, she was instrumental in your rescue.”

“I remember. I’ve only ever known her to be my ally. Should I change her classification, or my classification of the Esper faction? What will I do if the next agent of the Monarchy I meet also aids me? What will happen if I am denying myself fulfilling relationships with sentient beings simply because of an initial assessment of a faction? Should I create a sub-classification?”

“Sounds like you’ve learned that nothing is ever black and white, just infinite shades of grey.”

He canted his head to the side, a very human gesture. “That is a very accurate metaphor.”

“Another of those old Earth axioms.”

We spent the next hour talking, going over philosophical quandaries. When Rego began to stir, I decided we had had enough rest and started to get everyone up. Kekkin checked on Rego, who was weak but awake. We gave him some water and administered some painkillers, then told him what had happened. He took it in stride (poor choice of words), accepting it sombrely. Amputation is seldom a permanent disability these days, with cybernetic augmentation what it is.

When we were all up and finished checking our equipment, I thought it was time to break the news.

“Okay, everyone. We have a development, a change of our tactical situation. We now have wounded, so I want one person to assist Rego at all times.”

“I believe I can assist there,” offered Tac, “I can support his weight and I won’t tie up another gun from the squad.”

“Fair enough. But there’s more. A few hours ago, the Astral Spider left local space to go assist the Dreaming of Atmosphere. Ormund and a few others were left behind in a life support module in the shipyards to continue our operation, but they can no longer provide a rapid pick up when we exfiltrate. Instead, we’ll follow our original plan, making our way to the docking sphere after our objectives are met, then exit the station along the central axis. Any questions?”

“Does this mean no air support?” asked Geko.

“We never had any, anyway.”

“Right. But if we needed it before, the Spider could always…”

Kekkin clipped him behind the ear. “Does
bezak
not listen during brief? Spider will not de-cloak close enough to station for air support.”

“Yeah I just thought…”

“
Bezak
does not think.
Bezak
just talk.”

“Sorry, sarge.”

Rhondel raised his hand and I nodded for him to go ahead. “A few others left behind? Who?”

“Doctor Montannis, Sublieutenant Ward and two more Able Servicemen from the enlisted crew of the Spider.”

“Red shirts.” said Gunther, as he and Geko started chuckling. Master whacked Gunther on the back of the head, almost at the same time as Kekkin snapped his left foot out and clipped Geko on the backside.

“So Ormund is out there in a hot box rigged with a sub-space comms unit?” asked Harris.

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” added Renthal.

“It is. Which is why we’re going to be extra careful with our comms. Rego…” I started, then checked myself. “Triptych, I want you to see if we can salvage anything from that Ghantri comms node. See if we can get it talking for us. We’re going to use Ghantri nodes instead of our own to keep our link with Ormund and the battlenet. If we use their tech, it will make it a lot harder for them to zero in on the signal.”

Geko held his hand up and I almost groaned.

“What is it?”

“Serious question. Won’t it make it easier for the grubs to find them? I mean, it’s their own gear.”

“Grubs? You mean the Ghantri? Normally, you’d be right. Except they won’t be looking for carrier signals in their own radio traffic. We’re going to piggy back our comms on the backs of their own. Ormund says Elias has tethered a couple of AI Cores to a transceiver and told them to listen for a specific code. They sent us a data packet with the algorithm to encrypt our data to follow the pulse code.”

“He’s a clever old fart,” said Art, “I’d watch him around your girl.”

“I’m more worried for the good Doctor.”

Triptych held up his hand. “Sir? The Ghantri transmitters are relatively short range, and not the best at linking up through all this metal.” He waved his hand above his head, indicating the superstructure around us.

“Yeah, about that…” I began, but Art cut me off.

“Let me guess. We’re going to hit as many grub posts as we can find?”

“If we want to maintain communications through to the inner side of the habitat, yes.”

There were mixed reactions. A few glanced over at Rego, dozing with his head resting on a pylon.

“Do we need comms?” asked Masters.

“If we’re going to navigate our way through this ring, yes.”

“We have the map.” he said.

“Which only Carro here seems to be smart enough to read.” That elicited a grunt from Masters.

“If we get into another firefight, he could be the next casualty. Then we’d be wandering around here for a long time. Do you know the way to the inner habitat?”

“We just keep going down.” he said.

Artemis chuckled. “Dumb arse, we have to go up. Remember the switch?”

Master frowned, but said nothing.

This time Renthal put his hand up. “Won’t taking out a shit load of Ghantri bring the whole house down on us? I mean, we got lucky that we could fry their comms before they could radio local command…”

“Ghantri don’t have local command. They don’t use a command structure like we do. Whoever is the toughest in a group takes over. Most of their pre-raid rituals involve sorting out exactly
who
is the toughest, but once that’s decided command is absolute. Take out the leader, the next in line takes over. They don’t run, they don’t give up. If we encounter them
between
raids, they won’t have decided yet who is who. I’m betting at the moment there is no one in charge.”

“So why all the comms nodes?”

I shrugged. “So they can challenge each other. If one node goes quiet, they’ll just assume that some other war party bidding for dominance took them out.”

“Is this something you witnessed last time you were here?”

“Yes. I found that once I’d escaped an area that was patrolled by one group, they just left me alone. I was spotted many times, sometimes I could fight my way out, others I ran and hid. I tried to work out how to spot the boundary of each ‘cell’ of Ghantri, but I couldn’t find anything. Too dark, too many other things to worry about. I did know that if I ran hard enough, they wouldn’t follow any more.”

‘Jesus.” muttered Renthal, “You spent how long down here? I’ve only been here a day and I already find it creepy.”

“The dark is your friend.
We
are what goes bump in the night. Remember that.”

Kekkin stepped forward. “We are the serpent who strikes in the dark. We are
naga-zak
.”

For some reason, that seemed to steel them. They started to thump each other on the shoulder or back, and even Rego managed a grin, his eyes still closed.

52.

An eerie misgiving settled over me as we made our way further along the concourse. Now that I had faced the Ghantri, repressed memories were bubbling to the surface of my mind. Nothing specific, just sensations. Smells, sights, sounds. The feel of the cheap plastic veneer covering bulkheads and railings. The faint drip of leaking plumbing. A thousand sensations that I had buried along with all the horror and despair that accompanied them.

We contacted Ormund as we left our resting place, picked up directions to a transport hub just less than twenty clicks away and began our climb back up to the top of the concourse. Now that we were back on the move, the chatter died down completely. All eyes were outward, on the lookout for signs of another Ghantri tribe, as we started to call them. It wasn’t far from the truth.

When the Ghantri had recovered from a raid, the scattered survivors went back to their hovels and territories. They would naturally gravitate towards each other once more, defeating and over taking rival tribes. Slowly, masses would form, until there was enough of a force to push against the Protectorate blockade.

Their fleets, when they were able to form, were consisted of organised tribes able to secure shipyards and put their Jaani to work. Of course, my knowledge was limited to how they behaved in space, out here in Ambrose Station. On the planet Ghan I had no idea how their society worked. I had also never once seen one of their secretive religious caste.

As we trekked, I thought more on the revelations regarding the Destroyers. Now that I gave it some thought, I began to see how a race of perfect killers managed to install themselves as gods to these warlike aliens. Why the Destroyers spared the Ghantri, I may never know, but they must have proved without a doubt their superiority to the Ghantri, who forever more worshipped them as their supreme leaders.

Hijacking the Ghantri nodes really was a stroke of genius. I was wondering if Zoe had had a hand in the idea, when Rhondel and Carro spotted a trio of Jaani working on an oxygen scrubber. We were almost five kilometres from the transport hub, which I knew would be a prime real estate for a Ghantri tribe to claim. Any vehicles left over from the Betrayal would be valuable sources of salvage and rapid transport, plus there was bound to be plenty of other technology to lay claim to.

The two troopers knew the drill. They attached suppressors to their rifles and gunned the Jaani down without seeking approval. They knew what the mission was, and how we would need to survive down here. Killing the Jaani gave us a tool we could use on the next tribe. Kekkin knew what I planned right away, but the others were confused when I ordered them to take the bodies with us.

It wasn’t long before Tac reported another Ghantri comms node was within range.

The transport hub was another cavity, two hundred metres long and roughly cylindrical with a cross section nearly eighty metres in diameter. A mag rail system passed through the hub, connecting a string of other hubs along the curve of the torus ring. The likelihood that the mag rail would be functional was low, but the Jaani might have kept it running.

The Ghantri were bunkered down in the hub security station, a structure on the far side of the concourse. They had fortified the area, erecting barricades along the platform facing the mag rail. This was promising, since it was clear they had something to fear from threats coming from the rail.

I was on my belly, overlooking the platform from the other side. Artemis and Kekkin were on either side of me. Art nodded to the rail – she’d picked up on that too.

“How many, do you think?” I asked.

“Two dozen throughout the platform, more
calak
inside station.” said Kekkin.

“More on patrol?” asked Art.

“Has to be. This is a big tribe. I count at least eighteen Jaani, plus those three we tagged earlier.”

“
Naga-zak
has plan.” It wasn’t a question.

“We use the Jaani corpses as bait. Draw them from the fortifications. Once they cross to the other platform, we can nail them in a crossfire.”

“Will they all charge? That’s a lot all at once. Not sure even we can lay down that much firepower before they pushed through.” Artemis had a point.

“I don’t think they
all
will. They don’t get this big without some brains. My guess is we’ll get at least those on the platform already. When the others see their comrades killed they should start fighting more tactically.”

“Warrior cannot see node.”

“Nor can I.”

Tac, get up here,
I texted,
need your scanners.

After a couple of minutes of scanning, Tac made his report.

“The best I am able to say, with 43% uncertainty, is the node is within thirty metres of the security station. But not within it.”

“Which direction?”

“Unknown. There are too many echoes in this chamber. Perhaps if I was to climb down and move near that maintenance bay…”

“No. Can’t risk you exposing yourself. Let’s huddle.”

We crawled back to the rest of the gang. I explained our plan, and asked about our technical options for taking out the node.

“Can we use another of those drone charges?”

“Not without pinpointing it first.” said Rego.

“Will thirty metres be close enough?”

“Not really. It may work, but we won’t know if it’s shielded at that range. Most likely it will just scramble all of our comms too.”

That gave me an idea. “What about a scrambler?”

“Sure. If you don’t mind losing our own too.”

“We can use hand signals and stay within line of sight. We won’t need anything with range for this fight.”

“Okay, will still need to get it closer to the node, but thirty metres should be enough. If they have a smart Jaani monitoring the node, though, they may be able to do a work around.”

“Any other ideas?”

Triptych drew a canister from a compartment on his suit. “Seeker nanites. I can program them to home in on any RF signals once we put the scrambler up. If the Jaani do break through the jamming, they’ll head straight for them and tell me their location on my overlay.”

Rego nodded, “Then I hit them with the drone charge.”

“Good work.” I said, rapping my knuckles on Rego’s shoulder pad. “We take out their comms first, then we use the bait. They’ll already be on alert once we scramble short range comms, so be ready if they spot us too early. I don’t want you to use those nanites, though. I want Tac to handle that.”

“Yes, sir.” said Triptych, passing the canister along to Tac.

“I need all the guns I can bring to the fight.”

“Sir, I can still hold a rifle.” said Rego, looking me right in the eye.

“I know. But I can’t reposition you if we need to move.”

“I’ll drag myself if I have to. Exo rig will make sure of that.”

“I’d rather you stay back, monitoring the jamming and that drone.”

“But I…”

“I also need to know that Tac is protected.”

He pursed his lips, frustration showing clearly on his face. I couldn’t tell him that I worried about his leg wound rupturing, or risking him bleeding out. I could order him to do it, but I needed him to see it from another way. He
could
still hold a rifle, and that meant I could have him guarding Tac. I know what it’s like being crippled, to have people trying to protect you all the time, trying to help you out when all you wanted was to just do it yourself. The looks of pity, although often genuine, eat at your soul. Especially to men of action such as myself, and Rego. I needed to keep him busy, to show him he was still useful.

“I’m counting on you to make sure that nothing happens to my robot.”

“I must say, I am not a robot. I am…” interjected Tac.

“You’re an organic shroud matrix based quantum computer.” finished Rego, “Don’t worry, Tac. I speak your language. Let’s work on that nanite program.”

As they got to work, I returned to my perch with the rest of the squad, and started pointing out our firing positions.

“I want everyone within eye sight of at least one other squaddie. Any command passed down the line is to be repeated to the next in line. If one of us goes down, close the gap, keep line of sight maintained. If the whole tribe comes down on us, we fall back to the passages we came through. Go by single file, one person on overwatch at all times. Last one past takes overwatch and keep filing down. If only those bozo’s down there come at us, once they go down we leap down to the platform and jump the rail. Set up on those barricades, but I want Masters and Gunther to watch our six. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us when we’re hemming in on the station.”

“What about our heavy weaponry?” asked Renthal, indicating one of the duffle bags, “Should we set up anything?”

“Too close,” I said, “We’ll use support rifle configurations for our E34s, with the coolant sleeves. Get your cables out and hook them up to your reactors.”

“Where’s our entry point?” asked Renthal.

“Door knocker on these three points. Punch a hole through the bulkheads there and there, plus the main entrance.”

Door knockers were slang for single use, armour piercing projectiles. They would punch through solid steel, then blossom outwards with gravitational waves similar to a thudgun. The result was a wide opening of bent metal, pretty as a flower. Star marines, pirates and salvage crews used them throughout the galaxy. They were great for breaching charges too.

We waited for a few minutes to make sure no wandering patrols returned and changed things up. Then I gave Rego the command to start jamming. He sent two drones up into the air. One had a scrambler attached, the other was a tiny EMP drone. The first one descended to the platform below and moved over to the other side. A crackle in my ear told me the scrambler had activated and it wasn’t long before the Ghantri noticed. A few voices started calling out, and two more Ghantri came out of the station building to shout at the Ghantri guarding the platform.

We needed the Jaani to start working on the jamming before the Ghantri spotted the scrambler, so Rego positioned the drone down by a bench before the mag rail. Ghantri got up from their posts and started to look around, occasionally shouting at each other. After a couple of minutes, a half dozen Jaani scrambled from the station and over to a deck plate leading under the platform. They were headed to the node, I was sure. I signalled Kekkin at my left to be ready, repeating the same order to Artemis on my right.

I glanced over my shoulder to where Rego was sitting, his rifle across his lap, gazing intently at a tablet. As soon as the EMP went off, he was to crawl back to where we had hidden Tac and wait for us to finish. As before, I noticed no change in the environment, but Rego gave me a thumbs up, slotted his tablet onto his arm and started to crawl away.

I turned to face the Ghantri and shouted, “Hey! You filthy grubs! Look what I have!”

I tossed the first of the Jaani bodies down onto the platform.

The effect was instantaneous. With a shrieking cry, the first to see the Jaani leaped towards us, clearing the mag rail in a single bound. The cry went up, enticing the others to join in the charge. I tossed another body down as the first Ghantri reached the crumpled little Jaani. With almost pitiful wailing it immediately scooped it up and held the corpse to its rubbery hide, cradling it as if it were a lost child.

It didn’t even notice the brace of grenades I had taped to it.

A loud boom eclipsed the wailing from the stricken Ghantri - a ball of fire expanded across the platform, rising as it went. I flung myself down behind the guardrail, flipping my helmet closed as I did. I felt the pressure wave batter at my extremities, but my M4 MAEL protected me from the blast.
I might have over done it
, I thought.

When the explosion dissipated, I swung back to the guardrail, rifle at the ready. The blast had taken out several of the enemy, but a torrent were still rushing us. I had no illusions they would not be able to reach us up here. My troops opened fire.

Configured for sustained automatic fire, our rifles trailed power cables running directly to our suit reactors. Coolant sleeves protected our barrels – disposable nanite cooling sheathes that would stop our barrels from melting. With the over-charge capacitors filling as fast as we could fire, a deadly stream of souped up hardlight tore down at the hapless Ghantri. Fingers of solid photons raked across their ranks, tearing flesh from cybernetics. The foremost dead became obstacles for those that followed, hampering their headlong rush. We killed nearly two dozen before their self-preservation overcame their rage and the charge halted. We spotted a couple of leaders, bellowing orders at the survivors. Disconnecting our rifles from our reactors, we hastily removed coolant barrels from our rifles and tossed them to the deck.

As the last Ghantri jumped back to their side of the platform, we leapt the rails in one fluid motion. My exo-rig broke my fall and I sprung up into an advancing position, rifle to my cheek, as I squeezed off bursts of fire. First Kekkin and Artemis, then those on the flanks, dropped down to join me. We pressed ahead, firing into the backs of the retreating foe. We took down another six before they reached the barricades. Many fled into the station. A handful remained behind to cover the retreat. A volley of smart grenades launched from Harris and Triptych, homing in on tiny jets to detonate behind the Ghantri cover. Bits of grub spattered all around us.