Bane of Worlds Page 3

  “Good to see you, Sergeant,” said Duggan, when the rest of the squad had been dismissed.

  “And you, sir.”

  “What’ve we got here?”

  “There’s some good experience amongst them. A couple of young bloods, full of themselves. I’ll soon fix that.”

  “I’m sure you will, Sergeant. I can’t see there being any fighting this time around.”

  “I’ll take it as it comes, sir. Word is, there’ve been a few sightings around the Larax Sphere.”

  Duggan hid his surprise. He knew he shouldn’t have been shocked to learn that Ortiz had heard some things. Soldiers had a knack for finding out what was meant to be a secret. “You’ve had Monsey hack the Juniper to find that out?”

  “Monsey is dead, sir.” She saw his face. “I’m sorry, sir. Didn’t you know? She got chewed up by a Ghast repeater out in some forsaken part of the Axion sector. I didn’t even know we sent ships there anymore.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant. I hope she gave as good as she got.”

  “I’ll bet she did, sir.”

  Duggan returned to the bridge, in a foul mood. He should have heard about Monsey’s death sooner. He’d been kept at his desk for the last year, but that was no excuse for him to remain ignorant of what was happening to the people who’d been with him on the Crimson. Duggan had lost men and women before – it never got easier. He sat in his seat and kept himself busy monitoring the Pugilist’s onboard systems for any fluctuations in output that might indicate a fault somewhere. The others saw his face and didn’t speak. After an hour had passed, Duggan shook away the cloud, determined that he wouldn’t be weighed down by it.

  “Have you been through our weapons systems?” he asked. “Admiral Teron said they’ve made some changes.”

  “Nothing too revolutionary,” said McGlashan. “We’ve got two banks of eight Lambdas each. At first, I thought it was a downgrade, since the Detriment had two clusters of ten. However, these are a newer model of missile. One hundred and forty thousand klicks targeting range and a higher plasma yield. They fly faster too.”

  “Should let us get the jump on the Ghast conventional missiles,” said Chainer hopefully.

  “Assuming they haven’t made changes of their own,” said Breeze. He wasn’t usually so cynical.

  “The Lambda guidance systems are different as well. I’ve not had a chance to look into it,” said McGlashan.

  “Admiral Teron said something about that,” said Duggan. He frowned as he read through the top-level technical specifications of the missiles they carried. “We can manually disable the homing element of the weapon.”

  “Eh? Why would we want to do that?” asked Chainer.

  Duggan realised why. “The Lambdas can fly a lot further than their maximum launch range. The limitation is in the targeting – they can’t detect an object that’s too far away. If we disable the guidance, we can fire them in a straight line from much greater distances.”

  “Like the Crimson did against that Dreamer ship?” said Breeze.

  “Must be,” said Chainer. “Except the Crimson had eighteen missile clusters and a core that’s far faster than what we’ve got on this ship. We wouldn’t have a hope of getting a straight-line hit on something that’s more than twenty thousand klicks out. Even then it would be down to luck.”

  “It’s something, Lieutenant,” said Duggan. “An option we didn’t have before. At least the Corps is trying to learn new ways of doing things.”

  “Yeah. It’s got to be better than nothing.”

  “What about the nuclear warheads?” asked Duggan, turning towards McGlashan.

  “I don’t see any nukes in our arsenal, sir,” she said.

  “They must be locked to the captain’s console. Even after all these centuries, they’re still scared of an accidental launch. I’ve given you access to them, Commander. I’m sure you won’t get up to any mischief.”

  “I don’t like them,” she conceded. “These ones are just shy of a gigaton each. Seems like they’ll boost for half a million klicks. They’re not exactly nimble and they won’t outrun anything.”

  “Mankind’s answer to the Shatterer missiles,” said Chainer. “Can you foresee any situation where we’ll need them, sir?”

  “No, Lieutenant, I can’t. Except that as we’ve learned, it’s occasionally good to have an option for the unforeseen. I’d rather have them with us than not.”

  The remainder of the six days went by in relative quiet. The mood onboard was relaxed and Duggan reflected that they’d all had the threat of punishment and dismissal to deal with for far longer than was good for their health. The war against the Ghasts wasn’t going well, but it didn’t appear to be weighing down on the crew. Things had been comparatively quiet for a while – or at least the Space Corps hadn’t lost any major ships for the last few months. Several Anderlechts and a few dozen Gunners had been destroyed in battle that Duggan knew about. In a way, the losses were almost acceptably low, given how many new ships the Confederation was building. In his heart, Duggan knew that something was going to change. The Ghasts hadn’t given up on the war. He worried that next time there was a major confrontation, mankind was going to be in for a shock.

  Two hours into the sixth day, the Pugilist’s deep fission engines cut out and, without fuss, the spaceship entered normal space.

  “Any sign of the Goliath or the Ribald?” asked Duggan.

  “Scanning the locality,” said Chainer, the faraway tone to his voice indicative of his concentration.

  “We’re early,” said Breeze. “The mainframe calculated it almost ninety minutes out.”

  “They’re here, sir. I’m getting two pings a little over an hour’s sub-light travel away. There’s nothing else out here, so they’re easy to spot.”

  Duggan took manual control of the Pugilist and directed the ship towards the coordinates Chainer fed through to him. “Hail both vessels.”

  As he waited for Chainer to get a response, Duggan zoomed in the main display to show the MHL Goliath. The back three-quarters of the ship was cuboid, while the nose was much smaller and looked as if it had been welded on as an afterthought. The cargo bay doors were huge and ran in pairs along the underside of the otherwise featureless superstructure. It was functional and nothing more. The Pugilist’s mainframe listed the dimensions and overlaid the image of a Gunner onto the screen. The Goliath was a big ship – over five kilometres in length, but bulky and massive where a warship would be sleek and streamlined. Unlike a warship, the heavy lifter had plenty of internal space and its fission engines were comparatively small. Its gravity drive was oversized and allowed the Goliath to drag an inconceivable weight of cargo away into space.

  “I’m getting responses from both vessels,” said Chainer. “Captain Erika Jonas asks what took us so long.”

  Duggan gave a half-smile. “Tell her we stopped off for a bite to eat.”

  “Captain Mason Graham from the ES Ribald wants to speak to you directly, sir.”

  “Very well. Bring him through.”

  “He wants a private channel, sir.”

  “What the hell does he want a private channel for?” asked Duggan. He shook his head. “Fine, connect him.”

  Moments later, there was an almost undiscernible fizz in Duggan’s earpiece as it became active. A man’s voice spoke. It was of indeterminate age, but Duggan had already looked at the files and knew the speaker was twenty-six years old.

  “Captain Duggan?”

  “Speaking. Captain Graham, what do you need a private channel for?”

  There was a short pause. “Protocol, Captain Duggan. The communication between two captains of the Space Corps must remain confidential at all times when it pertains to matters relating to their assignment or mission.”

  Duggan thought he could just about remember reading something about that. “What matters do you wish to discuss?”

  “Formations and tactics, Captain Duggan. I have a few suggestions.”

  “There
are only two warships and one MHL, Captain Graham. We’ll be at lightspeed for ten days and in orbit around Everlong for no more than a single day. I can’t imagine we’ll have much need of a formation. As for tactics, if we see anything larger than a Kraven light cruiser, our tactics will be to get away as quickly as we can.”

  “Captain Duggan, we might encounter Ghast warships at sub-light near to Everlong.”

  “Indeed we might. In that case, I will tell you what to do and you will do it at once. Are those tactics clear enough for you?”

  “I’m not sure that’s the best approach, Captain Duggan,” said Captain Graham. His voice sounded strained.

  “While I’m in command, that’s the approach we’re taking. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, Captain Duggan. Very clear.”

  “Good. The Pugilist will come to within five thousand klicks of the Goliath. My comms man will feed the exact flightpath to both the Ribald and the Goliath, to ensure we all exit lightspeed at close to the same place. The Pugilist and Ribald will depart ten minutes prior to the Goliath, to ensure we arrive first - we’ll be going at Light-E, so there shouldn’t be too much variation.”

  “Understood.”

  “Excellent. And Captain Graham? I trust my crew almost as much as I trust myself. There’ll be no more private channels for discussions like this one.”

  Duggan ended the connection and stared ahead, his face like thunder. When he’d gathered himself, he noticed McGlashan grinning at him. He glowered at her and she quickly looked back at her console.

  “I’m going to bring us in close,” he said. “Lieutenant Breeze, get an advance calculation of our course and transmit it to the Goliath and the Ribald. Lieutenant Chainer, let Captain Jonas know that we’ll be on our way as soon as we’re within five thousand klicks.”

  “The Goliath needs an hour before it can break into lightspeed, sir,” said Breeze. “They’re not built for speed or urgency.”

  “We’re an hour away. The timing is close to perfect,” said Duggan.

  “I’ve let them know, sir,” said Chainer. “Captain Jonas tells me they’re putting coal in the boilers as we speak.”

  One hour later, the ES Pugilist came to within five thousand klicks of the MHL Goliath. The Ribald had taken up a position on the far side of the heavy lifter, also five thousand klicks away. At precisely the same time, the two Gunners accelerated away from local space, vanishing into the controlled uncertainty of lightspeed. Ten minutes later, the Goliath followed.

  The Pugilist’s mainframe calculated the journey would take just under ten days to complete. Duggan got himself comfortable, feeling a sense of relief that the comms systems wouldn’t function at the speed they were travelling. He didn’t want Captain Graham bothering him with any more suggestions on the way.

  “What’s the Goliath carrying, sir?” asked Breeze. “That’s a Class One MHL. We’ve only got a handful of those in service.”

  “Machinery. Drills, grinders, smelters. When it drops off all that cargo, it’s going to fill up with as much semi-refined metal as it can fit in the hold.”

  “It can do all that in a day?” asked McGlashan.

  “Probably not, Commander. I know I told Captain Graham we’d be in orbit for a day. I’d guess we’re looking at closer to five days or a week.”

  “Is the Goliath leaving many personnel on Everlong?” asked Breeze.

  “A few. Operations are mostly automated, since the planet isn’t able to support life.”

  “It must be tough for the miners,” said McGlashan.

  “Tough and dangerous. I don’t envy them,” said Duggan. He got up from his seat. “The gravity on Everlong is higher than we’re used to. I don’t plan to set us down, but I’d suggest you get in some gym time in case that changes.” With that, he set off to the Pugilist’s tiny gym room, intending to follow his own advice.

  Chapter Four

  Ten days and one hour later, the ES Pugilist emerged from lightspeed, two hundred thousand kilometres away from its destination. Everlong was the fifth planet out of twelve, orbiting a much larger than average sun. Everlong itself was nothing extraordinary, with a diameter of fifty thousand kilometres and an arid surface of sand, rock and little else. What made it unusual was the quantity of valuable metals to be found within its crust.

  “Lieutenant Chainer, scan the area.”

  “On it. Standard checks show the area’s clear.”

  “Run a detailed check.”

  “Yes, sir. Are you expecting something?”

  “Not quite expecting, Lieutenant. It’s always best to be certain.”

  “We’ve come in more or less exactly where we wanted,” said Chainer. “The mining operations are visible to our sensors from here. They’re right on the cusp, though and the planet’s rotation will take them out of sight within the hour.”

  “Any sign of anything unusual?”

  “There’s not a peep, sir. Everything’s quiet.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  Chainer frowned. “I don’t know, sir. I would expect there to be some traffic. They probably don’t send much long-distance, but the surface operations would usually be messy with broadcasts.”

  Duggan crossed over to look over Chainer’s shoulder. “What’s your opinion, Lieutenant? Could they be in the middle of a shut-down?”

  “I’d expect there to be more broadcasts if they were having a maintenance break, sir.”

  “Technical difficulties?”

  “Possible. It wouldn’t affect every piece of equipment on the surface. The sensors on the Pugilist aren’t the most sensitive models available, but this is still a warship. We could detect a single hand-held communicator from here.”

  “How visible was our arrival?”

  “Pretty visible,” said Breeze. “Anything military would know we’ve arrived.”

  “If they were looking.”

  “They’d have to be stupid to miss us.”

  “Keep our comms silent for the time being, Lieutenant Chainer. I’d like to say there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re not going to?”

  “It’s not a phrase I believe in.”

  “There’s a fission signature nearby, sir. It’s the ES Ribald,” said Breeze.

  “Ribald, this is Pugilist. Maintain silence,” said Chainer.

  “Roger that,” came the response from the Ribald’s comms man. “Any reason for concern?”

  “Just precautions at the moment. We’re not detecting any surface activity.”

  “This is Captain Graham. The files report this to be a sub-surface mining operation in metal-saturated rock. I would expect any activity to be hidden from our sensors, particularly at our current angle to the planet. I recommend we approach as normal, as per Space Corps procedures.”

  “We’ll proceed with caution, Captain Graham,” said Duggan. “Keep your crew on alert and arm your countermeasures.”

  “The Goliath’s appeared in near space, sir,” said Breeze. “Fifteen thousand klicks closer to the planet.”

  “Captain Jonas, this is the Pugilist. We’re going to approach the planet with caution. Keep your distance behind us – recommend fifty thousand klicks.”

  Captain Jonas’ voice filled the bridge, rich and sultry. “Fifty thousand klicks it is. We’ve got enough machinery in the hold to mine this planet dry in five years. I wouldn’t like to have it spilled before we can put it to use.”

  Duggan gave a signal for the channel to be closed. “I’m bringing us closer for a look,” he said to his crew. “Lieutenant Chainer, keep your eyes glued to those readouts.”

  “Captain Graham might be correct, sir,” said McGlashan. “We keep our mining operations as quiet as we can. Ever since the early days of the war. No miner wants to see a Ghast ship arriving in orbit – it means almost certain death for the people below.”

  “I know this, Commander. There’s nothing to lose by remaining suspicious. Remember we’re effectively in contested space now.”


  “I thought there was no proof the Ghasts destroyed our vessels?” said Breeze.

  “There isn’t, Lieutenant. However, I don’t like surprises.”

  Duggan kept the Pugilist at a steady speed, without pushing the vessel’s sub-light engines to anything like their full capacity. He noted the Ribald kept a precise distance to his left and slightly behind, while the Goliath gathered speed early to ensure it was able to keep pace with the much nimbler warships.

  At one hundred thousand klicks, he looked at Chainer for an update. The lieutenant had been quiet for the last few minutes, his brow furrowed in concentration.

  “Lieutenant Chainer?”

  “Sir, I’m looking. I’m getting a clearer view of the operations at this range. The mine is a big, open pit, which leaves them with an extremely low profile from here. I’d be able to see better if we were directly above.”

  “Any noise?”

  “Nothing. When we get closer I should be able to detect the vibrations of their surface equipment. They don’t keep everything below ground. Some of the processing goes on up top.”

  “Ribald, this is Pugilist. Something isn’t right. Keep alert.”

  “Roger.”

  Duggan checked the time logs since their arrival. “We’ve been here almost ten minutes. If there was a Ghast ship in orbit, we’d have seen it by now, wouldn’t we?”

  “Almost certainly. Past data suggests they maintain a speed that would have had them visible to us by now. Even if they’d gone behind the planet the moment we’d arrived,” said Breeze. “And they’d have seen our fission signature.”

  “I’m still not happy,” said Duggan. With little choice but to proceed, he increased the power to Pugilist’s engines. At forty thousand klicks, the planet filled the bulkhead viewscreen completely. It was a dull shade, somewhere between a yellow and a grey - as drab a place as any other mining planet in Confederation space.