A Cry Of Vengeance

By Robert E. Taylor

Bruised and battered after a gruelling battle against the invaders of human space, the survivors continue their search for a way to defeat the aliens.

Their single hope lies in the information contained within a Humal artefact. Information that promises them a long voyage to a distant star system. A system that, as far as they
can tell, was once part of the mighty Humal Empire.

So begins a journey that will test them all to their limits. A journey into darkness beset by enemies both from without and within.

A journey from which, not all of them will return.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert E. Taylor
• Release date: Dec 16, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311285447

Robert E. Taylor

Robert Taylor lives with his long-term partner just outside London, England. He has travelled widely, visiting most of Europe, much of North Africa and parts of the Middle-East. His jobs have included many diverse careers such as Bank Courier, Cinema Projectionist and even Scuba Diving Instructor. In his off time, he enjoys travel, reading, computer gaming and watching movies.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The star was old and a rather subdued orange colour. At least, it was presently. Periodically it would brighten to a more yellow hue, its energy output rising accordingly, but it was nothing remarkable as far as stellar bodies went. Just another variable star struggling to achieve some kind of stability, but bound by physics to endlessly repeat its cycle of changing luminosity.

On star charts and navigation displays, it was simply labelled Valyx. A made-up name for a star that couldn’t make its mind up whether it wanted to be dim or bright. Along with the name was usually a symbol, or a specific colour to the font used for the name, that served to inform any would-be visitors that Valyx posed a navigation hazard.

Since Valyx had no planets, most assumed the warning was concerned with the star’s variable nature and the possibility that it might one day flare up into a nova. No one had any reason to go there, so no one bothered to click on the little warning symbol, or interrogate the astrometric database as to the nature of the threat.

Although it was a relatively long-term variable, Valyx had an altogether different kind of volatility that was much less predictable. For reasons that were not well understood, its radiation output varied drastically on an almost daily basis. Sometimes, even hourly. Bursts of hard radiation - gamma and x-rays - released without warning and at outputs that put life anywhere within the system at risk.

Life, however, had never developed in the Valyx system. It had no planets and, thanks to the star, no safe zone in which life might exist, let alone develop spontaneously. There was no so-called Goldilocks zone for Valyx and nowhere that life could survive.

Yet, despite the hostile nature of the system, life had come to Valyx in the form of human explorers. Explorers that already knew all about the system and its hazards from distant observation. Explorers in ships hardened against the radiation. Explorers that were looking to get rich quick.

What they found was a vast belt of asteroids full of rare elements. On the largest of the asteroids, named Hades by the surveyors, they found particularly rich deposits of otherwise rare metals. Rich enough that a mining conglomerate backed by the Imperial coffers took an interest. Mining rights were bought from the explorers and a mining colony set up.

The Hades mining outpost once boasted almost two-hundred inhabitants. Miners, executives, security, even their families. As one rich vein played out, so another was found. Hades, it seemed, was a rock that kept on giving.

Of course, it could not last.

Less than ten years after it was founded, Hades played out. For a while, there was talk of moving the whole installation to another asteroid but, as they had found out by then, the rest were nowhere near as rich as Hades had been. The people in charge looked at the numbers and decided it wasn’t cost-effective to relocate for anything less than another Hades asteroid. For a year, they had surveyors scouring the belt, but no such replacement could be found.

Hades was shut down. Its machinery, imported at vast expense, was abandoned. Its structure, hewn from the asteroid itself, was simply evacuated of personnel. Anything that wasn’t small enough to pass as personal possessions was also left behind. The facility, and everything within it, was left to decay.

It enjoyed a brief resurgence of life as a base for a band of smugglers later on. A place they could put their illegal goods when they had no clear buyer for them. However, that ended badly when Imperial vessels began patrolling the edges of the system. The smugglers got themselves caught and, once more, the mining outpost lay empty, its rooms and corridors empty, cold and lifeless.

*****

At the edge of the system, two vessels floated in space.

The first was a hulking brute of a vessel. Hard edges and a squat, solid design labelled it as a warship. Equally obvious to the eye was the fact that the vessel had recently been involved in combat operations. The entire hull was blackened and scorched as if by a number of great explosion and there was a large hole in the starboard flank. A number of smaller holes and rents dotted the outer hull, giving further testimony - as if it were needed - to the pounding it had recently taken. Barely legible on the prow of the vessel was her name - Fenris. She was an old ship but a tough one. The radiation that Valyx threw her way every so often did not trouble either her, or her occupants. The ship lying alongside her, however, was not quite so resilient.

Clearly a freighter, the vessel was almost as long as Fenris, but had none of the bulky toughness of the warship. Designed as a colonial supply merchantman, Morebaeus had no gravity drive, instead relying on reaction-mass engines for thrust. Her hyperdrive was primitive and slow by comparison to that of Fenris. She lay close by the warship, letting the bulk of the battlecruiser shield her from radiation bursts from Valyx. Without that shield, Morebaeus and all her contents would be cooked in short-order by the more energetic blasts from the star.

Both ships were nearly motionless in space. Morebaeus drifted slightly, its archaic thrusters never quite able to bring it to a complete and utter stop. Fenris adjusted its position relative to the old freighter, always maintaining its place as a shield for the more vulnerable vessel.

*****

The warship’s bridge was a low-ceilinged, basic place. There were plenty of consoles but nearly all of them went unmanned. Fenris operated on a distributed control model. Each of its core systems were controlled from a different part of the ship. There were consoles on the bridge for each of those functions but Captain Lionel Westinghouse had never insisted on them being manned. Quite the opposite, in fact. He preferred the quieter bridge setup that he had employed ever since he had been given command of Fenris.

Apart from his own chair and its attendant monitor screens that he could look at, there were just three other people present.

The first, and least significant since the vessel was effectively ‘at anchor’ in space, was the helmsman. A young trainee from the crew, he sat rather bored at his station, making occasional adjustments to the ship’s position to ensure the safety of the adjacent Morebaeus.

The second, and arguably the most important member of the bridge after Westinghouse himself, was McMichaels, the comms officer. As well as ship-to-ship communications, he maintained links and information flow between the various sections of the vessel. A node, almost, through which every aspect of the ship’s operation flowed. Without him, the individual departments would function just fine by themselves, but he served to coordinate matters and to relay the captain’s wishes as necessary.

The final member of the bridge crew stood at the tactical console. Gibbons, like all of the crew, was of mature years. Most of the senior staff were. Fenris had been a training vessel and, consequently, it was seen as a place to put officers who were older and less dynamic than the current Imperial requirements mandated for front-line vessels.

With that age, however, came a certain amount of wisdom and maturity that Westinghouse would never trade in favour of a younger crew. His people knew their jobs inside and out. When he gave an order, he could rest safe in the knowledge that it would be carried out, and carried out by someone for whom the task was not a novelty, or an unknown.

As well as the senior staff, most of the mid-level officers were also of more mature years. Westinghouse had a lot of experience at his command. Indeed, only the trainees lacked experience.

Recently, that lack had cost many of them their lives, along with a number of more senior personnel, in what had become known as The Battle of New Benton by the crew.

Westinghouse sighed as he looked through the list of system faults, damages, and general non-functionality that had arisen because of that battle.

Captain? McMichaels frowned, misinterpreting Lionel’s sigh as a prelude to conversation.

Oh, it’s nothing. Lionel assured him. Just reviewing our rather battered operational status report. It’s rather depressing reading.

At least we survived. Gibbons joined in. I honestly wouldn’t have thought we’d manage to come through that situation as well as we did.

Thirty or more dead crewmen might not think we were so fortunate. Lionel pointed out, somewhat more sharply than he intended.

Gibbons nodded, apparently not taking offence at the tone. "I know. But it could have gone a lot worse for us. We at least saved the Ulysses’ crew and killed off that Walsh character."

Lionel nodded. I’m not so sure we killed Walsh but we did save Rames and his people. However, we’re not in our best shape right now. He looked to McMichaels. How are the rest of the crew holding up?

You want the official, medical opinion from Torvalds? Or the general crew morale feeling? The comms officer wondered.

A little of both might be nice. Lionel smiled.

McMichaels grinned. I’d say I’d paraphrase our resident Viking’s report, but he’s as terse as ever, so I really don’t need to. A number of injuries that aren’t life-threatening, but further reduce our active crew complement. Broken limbs for the most part, though there were a handful of pressure-related injuries as well…

Pressure-related? Lionel frowned.

McMichaels nodded. "Some of the pressure doors aboard Fenris are pretty old. They don’t close as rapidly as they should in the event of a hull breach. A number of the crew survived by literally clinging on for dear life until the doors dropped and sealed off the damaged sections. A few of them suffered ruptured lungs and other injuries as a result of the sudden drop in pressure."

Lionel nodded. I remember trying to figure out a way to replace the doors with more responsive units a long time ago, but it’s not so easy. They are a part of the structure. In the end, there was no workable solution.

I think the design idea behind the older style doors was that they gave time for people to get out of a compromised section before sealing it off. Gibbons added. They were intended for small breaches, say, those made by micro-meteorites, not full scale battle damage holes and tears. I think they reasoned that any hole larger than a finger’s width would likely kill the occupants in short order. Of course, it would be nice if the doors made allowance for the severity of the pressure drop and reacted accordingly. Still, I guess it’s better that they do at least work at all.

Lionel nodded absently and scanned the damage report again. Well, we should be thankful for small mercies, I suppose.

Other than that, the crew are in surprisingly good humour. McMichaels continued. "The fact that we came through New Benton, and rescued the Ulysses’ crew, is seen by most as a victory against the odds. Morale is pretty good."

Lionel pursed his lips thoughtfully. That’s something. Now all we need to do is fix the ship up.

Engineering and Technical are doing what they can to repair the damage. Gibbons told him. But… as a training vessel, our spare parts catalogue was not so full. We have a few, older systems, and bits and pieces we can use. Things that we removed and replaced with better units, so it’s not a total loss. But we could do with some serious maintenance downtime in a dock.

We’re not likely to get that. McMichaels pointed out. Most of the Imperial docks are likely nothing more than dust. Whatever repairs we can manage, I think we’re on our own.

Agreed. Lionel told them. "Major repairs - like that hole in our flank - will have to wait until this mess is concluded, I think. Fenris will have to lick its wounds and soldier on. I have a few ideas about spares, however, so don’t get too downhearted."

Gibbons grinned. I think I know what you have in mind. Whilst you’re in the process of pulling miracles out of a hat, we could also do with a munitions resupply. We expended a lot of ordnance at New Benton and it wasn’t like we had full magazines to begin with.

How bad is it? Lionel asked.

It’s all in my report, Captain. Gibbons grinned.

Give me the important points. Lionel smiled. I don’t seem to have gotten around to that report yet.

Gibbons laughed. Fair enough. Well, our point-defence capability is down roughly sixty percent. We went through a lot of ammunition for the rail-guns and shrapnel projectors. We still have the PD lasers, of course but, as we saw, the aliens can throw a lot of warheads our way in a very short space of time. Having a cloud of metal around us protects us against the initial attack and any subsequent torpedoes or missiles that try to come through it, is vital. They’re the point-defence that keeps on giving, as it were. If we get into it again with the aliens without them, I don’t think it will go so well for us.

Lionel nodded. What else? The spinal mount?

We have a few casings left that we can use, but not a lot to put in them.

It was hard enough to get the warheads we did have. Lionel noted. Training vessels aren’t supposed to carry atomics onboard. At least, not real ones. Just dummy, training warheads, which are about as much use in a fight as throwing oranges at the enemy.

I appreciate that, Captain. Gibbons chuckled. Just letting you know the gist of it. We have quite a few conventional warheads and a few EMP’s left. Missile stocks are reasonable, and we still have the particle weapon batteries, of course. Again, though, I wouldn’t like to go into battle without stocking up, if we can.

That’ll be hard with most of the military infrastructure in ruins. McMichaels frowned. Spare parts we might scavenge here and there, but nuclear warheads?

The only place we could conceivably find such things is at Aurica. Lionel reminded them. We all know it. Unfortunately, so did the enemy. I have little doubt that the naval yards are little more than radioactive dust right now.

Then the best thing we can do is not to get in a fight. McMichaels suggested.

A good plan. Lionel agreed. I have the feeling, however, that our terrorists-who-aren’t-terrorists have plans that will get us into all kinds of scrapes in the near future.

Has Captain Rames talked to you about his… our… plans? McMichaels fished. Since coming aboard, Rames and his crew from Ulysses had kept mostly to themselves and talked primarily with Westinghouse. McMichaels, along with most of the senior staff, were understandably curious about what was to come.

Not really. Lionel admitted. "I’ve offered our help, and the use of Fenris, of course, in order to assist them in whatever they might do against the alien threat. However, no specifics have been mentioned yet. Rest assured I won’t commit us to some kind of suicide mission."

Rames seems like a sensible fellow. McMichaels said. I doubt he’d go in for anything obviously fatal. What would be the point?

My thoughts exactly. Lionel nodded. He did promise a meeting of all senior staff from both our ships before deciding on a course of action.

Captain, I have to ask… Gibbons said hesitantly. Who exactly is senior in rank out of the two of you?

Lionel considered his tactical officer’s comment. A captain commanded his own ship, of course, but when there were multiple vessels, it was technically a fleet. Moreover, a fleet needed a senior officer in command of the whole unit. Gibbons was clearly trying to divine which of the two captains had the last word over any operations.

Neither of us. He told the man. "We’re both the same rank. If I wanted to get picky, I could point out that Fenris is a battlecruiser, whilst Ulysses was merely an anti-smuggling vessel. But then again, Rames once commanded a destroyer. He has a past that includes a proper career, even if he was censured and demoted. On the other hand, I myself am somewhat - was somewhat - frowned upon for the way I gained this command."

So it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other? McMichaels grinned.

Pretty much. Lionel agreed, grinning back "But essentially, I still have my ship. Rames has lost his. I won’t be turning Fenris over to him, on that you can rest easy."

Both men nodded and looked more at ease. A comfortable silence fell as all three men checked their consoles. After a minute or so, McMichaels cleared his throat.

Colonel Jerik is reporting no contact so far on their mission to the mining facility. However, they have found signs that the place has been used, and recently. They are continuing their search.

Remind him to take no undue risks. We may need every last one of his men before we’re done. Lionel replied.

Gibbons frowned. You really think they’ll find anyone down there?

Rames seemed to think so. Lionel said. Though I think he was more interested in not upsetting that cyborg-woman, than in finding anyone.

Gibbons snorted. I thought Jerik’s eyes were going to pop out of their sockets when he saw her. I wish we had a camera shot of that.

The Colonel likes to think he’s the toughest son-of-a-bitch in the Empire, McMichaels smiled. But I’d wager he’s met his match in her.

It’s that skeletal cyber-arm and the way it grates whenever it moves. Gibbons actually shivered. Creeps me out more than a little…

Lionel laughed and nodded. Rames told me she plunged the arm into a vat of molten metal to retrieve some object. Apparently, they even have video footage of the incident captured by her suit-cam!

Captain, McMichaels grinned. Just who have we gotten ourselves involved with?

That’s something I’m still asking myself. Lionel admitted. I’ll let you know when I find out.

Well, here’s some more entertainment. McMichaels said, glancing down at his console, which had just beeped at him. Apparently the Colonel had lost contact with the squad headed up by Rames’ people.

Major Harvan’s group? Gibbons asked.

Lionel nodded. Yes. I don’t think he and Jerik really hit it off. He sighed. Didn’t the good Major include our aforementioned cyborg-lady amongst his squad?

Gibbons nodded.

Well, let’s hope she doesn’t have to do anything as drastic as fishing in molten metal this time around. Lionel said.

CHAPTER TWO

Klane yawned inside her helmet. She wasn’t tired as much as bored. So far, the exploration of the old mining facility looking for a marooned victim of Tane’s machinations could be summed up in one word.

Tedious.

Jones was certain that the engineer from the Folly of Youth had been abandoned there by Tane’s assistant when she assumed the other woman’s identity. But that had been years before. Klane was doubtful that they’d find anyone alive inside the facility after so long.

Nevertheless, she, like him, felt a need to discover the woman’s fate. If, as seemed likely given the environment inside the facility, she had simply frozen to death, then they could at least recover her body and give her a decent burial.

So far, however, the four teams searching the extensive workings had come up empty. The facility, with its tunnels and accommodation areas, its admin sections and equipment storage caverns, was bigger and more labyrinthine than they had envisaged. Nor did there seem to be, outside of the pre-fabricated office and dwelling areas, much sense to its layout. It seemed as if the miners had followed the veins of metals and then, when they had exhausted them, they had made use of the space however was most convenient at the time.

As a result, the place was something of a maze. There were tunnels that led off in all directions; those that spiralled up and down; even a few that had collapsed. The official plan of the facility was woefully out of date; looking like it had been made in the days immediately after the founding of the mine. Most of the tunnels and caverns weren’t marked on it at all. If it wasn’t for the mapping software they all had access to they would have no idea of where they were or if side tunnels had been explored by one of the other squads.

As it was, they had found little of interest and no signs that anyone had been there in years. The last officially noted use of the facility had been by smugglers. And for all the evidence they had found so far, it looked as if the smugglers had operated on a leave no footprints policy.

The place was dead. Whilst there was air, it was too thin to breath. Likewise, the temperature throughout the place was well below freezing. Not the molecule-slowing cold of absolute zero, but too cold to survive for long, at any rate. Some clever arrangement of thermal panels placed on the outside of the asteroid converted the irregular radiation bursts into power and that was channelled down into the facility itself. It kept the place from dropping below about minus fifty Celsius, and powered a series of irregularly spaced emergency lights. But more than that, it did not do.

What did they used to mine in here? Private Alvin, a little in front of her, wondered. He ran a gloved hand, and his suit light, over a thin glitter of something metallic in the wall.

Anything they came across. Corporal Malik, in the middle of the group, replied. Can’t say this place is somewhere I’d want to work, let alone live for years.

It wouldn’t have been so bad in its heyday. Jones, just behind Malik, suggested. The reactor would have kept the place warm and cosy.

Even so, Malik shook his head. Not my kind of thing.

There would have been good money in it, for the miners. Private Torin told them. He was up front, with Major Harvan. A year’s worth of hard toil would have given them enough to live on for five.

Seriously? Alvin sounded surprised. I kind of thought this sort of work was… you know… something you did if you were a bit slow in the head and did badly at school.

Nah! Malik quipped. That’s what the armed services are for!

The three Marines chuckled at their self-deprecating cleverness.

Knock it off you three! Harvan grumbled from the head of the line. This is dull enough as it is, without having to listen to you lot trying to be funny.

Klane smiled. Harvan was easy on his men. She’d been in units where the slightest off-topic conversation would have got you shouted at so long and hard that you’d still be hearing the words days later. Harvan was more tolerant, and so was she. So long as the marines did their jobs, a little chatter didn’t bother her.

They moved on down one tunnel after another. Their squad was just six people. Harvan and his three remaining marines, Alvin, Malik, and Torin, along with Klane and Jones. Colonel Jerik, of Fenris, had made it clear he did not like working with people who weren’t under his direct control. Harvan had made it equally clear that he wasn’t about to bend knee to the Colonel, despite Jerik’s obvious rank superiority.

For a time, it looked as though there might be trouble brewing, but both Rames and Westinghouse had ordered the pair to get along and allowed them to operate independently of one another. An odd state of affairs, but one satisfied both the Major and the Colonel. Of course, Jerik had promptly laid claim to the most likely areas of habitation to search, leaving Harvan with little more than the mine workings to scour. Harvan had fumed silently, but accepted the assignment. There wasn’t much else he could do that would not come across as churlish.

So here they were, trudging down tunnel after tunnel, poking around in the occasional cavern they came across. Here and there, the miners had made a cavern into a kind of rest area, where they might relax during breaks and clean themselves up before heading back towards the main facility. However, all the places they found were long abandoned. There was no sign of life, or of use, anywhere.

You really think we’ll find this engineer down here, Jonesy? Torin asked.

Jones shrugged. I don’t know. All I know for sure is that they forced her off the ship. This seemed like the best location for them to do it.

They could have just spaced her. Alvin pointed out. That could be why the enviro-logs showed a drop.

Klane cleared her throat. No, she’s here. She might be long dead, but she’s here.

You got some kind of sixth sense, Sarge? Alvin grinned. Ever since New Benton, the marines had started calling her Sarge. Harvan ignored it, but it was clear he also looked to her as squad-leader in the event of his own incapacity, as had happened during the hunt for Tane’s assistant.

No special senses. She told him. Just the woman - Tane’s assistant - seemed shocked when I suggested she had murdered the engineer.

I think your antics might have had something to do with that shock. Jones sounded amused. Alvin and Malik chuckled.

Maybe, but I got the impression she didn’t murder her, regardless. Klane insisted.

Where the hell is she hiding, then? Torin wondered. I can’t imagine there’s much of this place left to search.

Yeah, Malik agreed. Plus you’d think she’d be eager to be found, if she was still alive.

Harvan, on point, raised a clenched fist. Everyone stopped and fell silent. Everyone except Jones, that was.

What is it? He asked, having nearly walked into the men in front of him.

Harvan moved forwards whilst the others arrayed themselves across the tunnel. At that point, it was barely ten feet wide, probably hewn by a single miner with a plasma cutter of some kind.

Heat signature. Harvan muttered. Got a door, or hatch, ten metres down on the right-hand side. No sign of movement. Alvin, Malik. Get your asses down here with me. Klane, you and the others hold position until we see what we’re dealing with.

Harvan and his two marines moved on down to the door. Despite his orders, Klane moved so that she could at least the door in question. It looked like every other door they had encountered so far. A pre-fab unit that had been put in a hole in the tunnel wall - presumably with a cavern or chamber behind it - and then had industrial sealant pumped around it to fill the gaps. It was rough and ready, but it did the job.

The marine suits they wore incorporated all kinds of additional sensors, including the infrared that Harvan had used to detect the heat coming off the door. Klane didn’t need the suit for that. Her own cybernetic eye could see more than well enough in the infrared to notice that the door was warmer than the tunnel wall. It was faint, but it was noticeable.

Harvan and his two marines cautiously approached the door. Pulling a transducer from his chest pocket, Alvin pressed it up against the metal surface and listened for sounds from within. Klane was reminded that Harvan and his team, although not battle-hardened in the sense that she was, had spent a considerable amount of time boarding vessels. It seemed they had the procedure down to a fine art.

Alvin said nothing, but shook his head in response to Harvan’s questioning glance. Harvan stood in front of the door and nodded at Malik, who placed his hand on the handle. In common with all the doors in the tunnels, this one had a purely manual opening mechanism. It didn’t pay to have electrically operated doors in a place that could suffer a power outage. So, for safety’s sake, the miners relied on simpler designs.

Malik tested the handle and nodded at Harvan. It was unlocked. Harvan lifted a hand and showed three fingers. Then he began folding them down.

At zero, Malik twisted the handle and pushed the door wide open. Harvan darted through immediately, bearing a stun pistol. Alvin followed close behind him, leaving enough of a gap so that Harvan would trigger any booby-traps. Malik followed suit seconds later.

Klane prodded Jones and Torin and the trio moved up to the door. Peering in, they observed a cavern like many of the others they had already searched so far that day. A round cyst carved out of the asteroid, with fused-stone walls courtesy of the plasma tools used to hollow it out.

Inside the cavern were a lot of boxes. More crates and cartons, in fact, than they had seen all day during the search. It was clearly an effort of deliberate intent. There seemed to be some sort of order to the scores of crates and boxes, but neatness was not a part of the equation.

In addition to the boxes, the cavern housed a large, prefabricated structure similar to those they had seen elsewhere. This one, however, had been extended and improved in ways not intended by its designers.

It was covered in silvery insulation film, designed to prevent heat loss. Several layers, by the look of it. All of them held in place by tape and wire and cable, wrapped around the structure and holding the foil-like sheets in place. The entire thing looked like some kind of insane, gift-wrapped present.

Harvan, Malik and Alvin were slowly advancing into the space, watching carefully. It was obvious that someone lived there, or had until recently.

I knew it! Jones muttered, happy that his theory had been proved correct.

Yeah, well done. Klane muttered. We still have to find her. Watch yourselves, she may be inherently hostile.

Why would she hurt us? Torin frowned. We’re here to rescue her.

Jones sighed. She was dumped here, probably by her former crewmates whom she considered friends. Tane psion-ed them into doing whatever he wanted. She’s probably bitter about that and not trusting of anyone.

Plus, Klane added. She’s been isolated for years in this place. That’s enough to make anyone go a bit weird. She may think we’re her crew come back to finish her off.

Some yards ahead, Harvan noted. The main source of the heat is coming from the prefab. Looks to be two doors into it, one at either end. We’ll move to the far entrance. You take the nearer one.

Roger that. Klane replied. She gestured to her companions and they moved off.

Don’t take any chances. Harvan said as the two groups moved into position. If she looks to be hostile, stun her straight away. Sounds harsh, but it’s the simplest and quickest solution.

Just make sure Alvin doesn’t stun us. Torin muttered.

Hey! I heard that! Alvin grumbled.

Stow it, all of you! Harvan said sharply. Playtime is over.

Sorry Boss! Torin said.

Alright, on three. Harvan told them. One, two, three!

Klane and Harvan were the first people through their respective doors. The inside of the prefab was one large space but their quarry was not inside. However, they were right to think that the years, and her previous treatment, might have made her bitter.

She had left something behind to deal with unwanted guests.

CHAPTER THREE

In fact, there were several somethings.

The first, and most serious threat as far as Klane was concerned, was dutifully highlighted in the HUD for her by the suit’s threat analysis software. It was a turret.

It sat in the middle of the structure with an unobstructed view of both entrances. In the brief moment that she was able to look at it, it resembled a plasma cutter that had been married to some kind of turntable. As she entered, it was turning away from her, towards the entrance through which Harvan was now striding.

Klane managed to get. Harvan, look… off as a warning before the secondary defensive measures of the occupant kicked in.

Something heavy and blade-like swung out the gloom to her left, attached to a long, plastic strut. To her annoyance, she was caught by surprise. The blade smashed right into her chest.

Fortunately, the marine’s suit she wore was designed to withstand exactly those kind of attacks. Designed for shipboard operations, it was nowhere near as rugged as a proper battle-suit, but the possibility of a physical attack was well catered for.

She felt the material of the suit harden across her chest at the impact, preventing the makeshift axe from penetrating. Even so, the blow caused her to step back a pace or two and knocked the breath out of her. There had been considerable force behind the arm.

Irritated, she grabbed the arm with her cybernetic limb and ripped the whole thing free of the wall mounting, casting it to the floor in disgust.

The turret, meanwhile, had focused on Harvan and let off a shot.

The plasma it projected was not much of a threat. By the time the little ball reached Harvan, it was already cooled below any real effectiveness as a weapon. A plasma cutter was not designed to project its superheated gas. But, its aim was true, at least. The ball splashed against Harvan’s torso and splattered harmlessly into gas.

Klane took several long steps towards the turret, which turned to line her up for a shot.

It never got the chance.

Reaching the little podium, she kicked the entire thing over onto the floor and then stamped on the primitive sensor array, rendering the thing useless. The home-made weapon continued to twitch in an effort to find intruders, but it was no longer able to detect any threats.

There was a brilliant flash of light from Harvan’s direction. Not bright enough to blind like a flash-bang, but enough so that anyone looking at it would have spots in front of their eyes for some time.

Perfect for blinding someone so that the plasma turret could take pot-shots at them. Klane thought.

Looking over, she could see Harvan had been affected, though not seriously. The visors on the suit helmets would darken almost instantly in response to such a flash.

Nobody move! Harvan barked. Who knows how many more bloody traps there are in here!

Turret neutralised. Klane added. She rubbed at her chest where the axe-thing had struck her. She was going to have bruises because of that.

What the hell kind of person rigs all this up? Alvin wondered. He and the others had followed the quick succession of attacks through Harvan and Klane’s suit-cams.

A scared one. Jones told him.

Alright! Harvan decided. Klane and I will search the interior. The rest of you take a look around outside. Be careful! No telling what’s been rigged up out there!

The marines and Jones acknowledged the order and moved off. Harvan moved slowly and cautiously across to the centre of the building where Klane awaited.

You okay? I think I saw you get tagged by that… axe, or whatever it was. Harvan asked.

I’ve had worse rolling around in the sack. Klane chuckled. Clever little bitch, our lost engineer.

Harvan nodded. Could have gone a lot worse. He brushed at the slightly scorched patch on his armour where the plasma ball had struck him.

Klane glanced around at the clutter in the building. Looks like she’s gathered anything useful here into this cavern. Made herself a nice little secure environment. Air density is higher in here, and it’s a good deal warmer.

From the looks of this place, and outside, she must have scoured the entire facility to get all this. Harvan noted.

I doubt she’s had much else to do over the years. Klane observed. Just survive and prepare in case her crew came back to finish her.

Regular little pack-rat, in any case. The Major said.

Major! Malik interjected over the comms. ’Rat’ is right. Check this out.

Malik’s vid-feed came through to them. He and Alvin were outside in the cavern, up against one of the walls. The image showed Alvin bent down next to what looked suspiciously like some kind of large cage. When the feed flipped to Alvin’s viewpoint, they saw that it was indeed a cage. A cage full of rats.

I guess we know what she eats, now. Alvin said with amusement.

What the hell are rats doing here? Jones wondered. Wasn’t this an Imperial facility? Don’t they routinely sterilize cargo and such?

Yeah, Klane replied. But the records indicate that smugglers used this place for a while after it was abandoned. My guess is that they don’t have the same standards of hygiene.

They might also have been pets. Alvin suggested. Don’t they allow pets in places such as this?

Probably. Harvan agreed. Anything to make the place seem less like the back of beyond.

If they were pets, they probably got left behind when the place was shut down. Alvin persisted.

My money’s still on them getting in with the smugglers, though. Klane said.

Looks like she feeds them on this old crap. Malik’s feed drew their attention. The marine was staring down into a large drum of what looked like yellow powder. There was a cup, or measuring ladle inside. He bent down so that they could see the labelling on the drum’s exterior.

Instant Dried Potato - 25Kg

Guess she don’t like mash much. Malik quipped.

Rats are nice and fat on it, though. Alvin laughed. I suppose it’s a good way of recycling inedible foodstuffs. Some of this stuff is probably older than she is, right?

I’m not sure how old she’ll be. Jones admitted. Tane did such a good job of screwing with the records that she could be any age over twenty-ish. I expect she’ll be in her thirties, or thereabouts. That seems to be the age of Tane’s assistant.

Whilst they had been talking, Klane had been wandering around the interior of the prefab unit. There was a lot of junk, but the walls held lots of pictures. Pictures, Klane was certain, that had belonged to the miners and had been abandoned along with everything else. The engineer seemed to have surrounded herself with the images of people, as if she wanted to feel a part of something.

Probably to stop her from feeling so alone. She realized.

There were many personal possessions, too. Stuffed animals and memorabilia, collector’s items and a host of things that had meant something to their original owners. The engineer had gathered them all up and used them to make her marooning more bearable.

Hell of a collection she has here! Harvan commented as he looked around.

Klane nodded. Like I said earlier, she hasn’t had a lot else to do. Nice and warm in here. She must have re-routed some of the thermal panel feeds from other areas.

We should have thought to check the junction boxes as we searched. Harvan agreed. It’s the obvious way for a castaway to improve their lot. We might have been able to pinpoint this location a lot earlier that way, and saved ourselves miles of trudging around in the dark.

Twenty-twenty hindsight. Klane sighed. Still, we’re here now. All we’ve got to do is find our lost victim.

I’ve got some ideas about that. Jones interjected.

Go ahead. Harvan told him. So long as it doesn’t involve us walking for miles more in this mausoleum.

Jones laughed. "Yeah, I think you’ll like this idea. Look, our engineer has been stuck here for years, right? She knows the place like the back of her hand. There are probably tunnels and airducts that she knows that we haven’t even noticed as we’ve been trudging around. She can’t have failed to hear us arrive and begin searching. The place has a thin atmosphere, so sound does travel a little. She knows we’re here, and that we’re looking for her. She’s probably gone to ground in some little bolthole that we’d never find.

"Now, we could tear the place apart and maybe never find her. Even if we did, such an exercise will take days, possibly weeks. That’s time we don’t really have to waste. We’ve gone about this like a hunter stalking prey. Our prey, however, is cleverer than we are.

Well, there are ways to catch animals other than stalking and tracking…

*****

A little while later, the group of marines left and headed back towards the main facility. They moved with no haste, content to take their time. But they made a lot of noise.

Before they had left the cavern, the group had moved around, through the prefab, milled about and generally not showed themselves in any great numbers. Finally, they had left and gathered outside the cavern before commencing their trek back.

It was a tactic designed to confuse anyone watching the cavern, say from a hidden observation point, and confuse them as to the marines’ actual numbers. In all of the milling and the going to-and-fro, two of the members of the group had been left behind. Klane, and Alvin.

Alvin had managed to hide himself between a table and a wall, whilst Klane had made do covering herself with a sheet of the silvery insulation and lying flat out on the floor.

Harvan had expressed his doubt that the ruse would work. There were only six of them, so two missing was quite obvious. Jones, however, had been confident that the marine suits made them look identical in the eyes of a neutral observer. Though six of them had entered the cavern, two of them had stayed in the building whilst the other four had searched the area. He was certain that, should she be watching, she would not notice that fewer people left than had arrived.

Klane, on the other hand, was certain that she was in for a long wait on the floor. The marines had placed a handful of remote cameras here and there around the cavern, and the feeds kept her amused for ten minutes. There wasn’t anything to see.

By mutual agreement, she and Alvin maintained radio-silence, just in case the engineer had some way of monitoring their transmissions. It was unlikely she had. Military comms traffic was heavily encrypted, so there was almost no way that she could listen in on the conversations. But she could conceivably detect the transmissions, despite the frequency-hopping nature of the comms system.

The others, however, maintained a healthy amount of comms traffic amongst themselves. Not that they needed to. It was all for show, should anyone be listening.

After twenty minutes, the radio chatter fell off sharply and got progressively quieter and less frequent until, after forty minutes, it was almost non-existent.

All part of the illusion. Klane mused. We’ve gone. It’s safe to come out now…

The engineer was either not there, or supremely cautious. The cameras revealed no movement in the cavern.

Klane occupied herself by mulling over recent events.

They had hold of the psionic artefact now, rescued from Tane’s assistant, who was in the brig aboard Fenris. Lewis had managed to activate the device somehow, even though it had nearly killed her in the process. She claimed to have a fix on a location that was something to do with the Humals. Klane would have preferred a schematic for a doomsday weapon to annihilate the alien invaders that had brought the Empire to its knees, but it was a start. Lewis had said there was a lot more still to discover in the artefact. As soon as she had recovered sufficiently, she meant to have another go at cracking it.

Klane wasn’t sure what she thought of Lewis having access to the knowledge of an alien race. The woman was prone to causing trouble and had even left Hamilton to die, once.

James.

Her mood darkened at the thought that she would never see him again. Not Lewis’ fault, that business, but he was gone nonetheless.

There was a certain irony in the fact that Lewis, who had once left him to die, was now the only person who might make sense of the information he had died to obtain.

Life’s a bitch. She noted, unwittingly completing the saying with …and then you die.

She sighed quietly. Wherever they went from here, it was hard not to feel an overwhelming sense of doom. Their enemy was almost omnipotent and outnumbered them vastly. In just a day or two, they had destroyed the entire Imperial military and most of the Imperial comms and transportation infrastructure. Systems were isolated and afraid. Many had suffered orbital bombardment. To say things looked bleak was the biggest understatement in history.

She had no idea how the crystal artefact might help them, but at least they had something to go on. A slim hope, no doubt, but it was better than nothing.

A flicker of movement from one of the camera feeds on her HUD caught her attention. There was someone outside in the cavern. The figure had come out of nowhere and now crouched behind one of the crates.

Sarge? Alvin whispered.

I see, now hush. She replied.

The figure stayed crouched for a long time, then moved over to the rat enclosure for a while. Apparently satisfied, the figure, bundled up in layers of clothing, moved towards the prefab.

She chose the far entrance to enter, which was away from Klane’s position. Alvin was nearer, but he kept his head down until she was well inside the prefab. Klane could hear the woman muttering under her breath as she surveyed the destroyed plasma turret she had made.

Now! Klane ordered, surging up from under the insulating sheeting. Momentarily, it caught around her and she wasted a second in ripping it aside.

Alvin lunged up from behind his table and vaulted over it. At least, he tried to. He caught a foot on the edge and sprawled headlong on the floor. The woman ran past him and he grabbed at her ankle, securing a good grip that brought her to the ground.

As Klane got to her feet, she heard Alvin curse in pain and the woman was suddenly free and running for the door. In a moment, she would be out and free, no doubt making straight for some narrow duct where they could not hope to follow.

Klane did not hesitate. Firing from the hip, her stun pistol caught the woman full in the back and she was down, tumbling head over heels to lie just inside the doorway. Klane went forwards, stepped over the groaning Alvin, and shot the woman once more, to be on the safe side.

Damn, Sarge! Alvin complained. The bitch stabbed me! He was holding his right shoulder with his left hand and a good supply of blood was leaking out from between his gloved fingers.

What do you want? A medal? Klane snorted. Suck it up. You ain’t dying!

Alvin chuckled. You really ought to work on your bedside manner!

Klane put her pistol away. My manner’s just fine as it is. Come on, get up and I’ll take a look at your mortal wound!

Klane? What’s happening? Harvan’s voice over the comm channel was concerned.

We’ve bagged our wayward engineer, but Alvin managed to get himself stabbed in the process.

Is she alright? Jones broke in.

She’ll be fine, just stunned. You might as well get back here.

I’m fine, by the way! Alvin muttered irritably.

Alright, we’re on our way back. Should be there in less than twenty if we double-time it. Harvan told her. Sit tight.

Klane nodded reflexively. Will do. She turned her gaze to Alvin with amusement. Now, let’s see what deadly injury she inflicted on you.

*****

True to his estimate, Harvan and the rest turned up twenty minutes later. By then, Klane had cleaned and dressed the wound in Alvin’s shoulder and given him a shot for the pain. In fact, she had given him two shots. The first numbed the pain sufficiently that he was able to ignore it and begin complaining again. The second was just to shut him up.

What’s wrong with him? Harvan frowned as he saw the grinning face Alvin was pulling through his helmet.

He was in a lot of pain. I had to sedate him a little.

A little? Malik grinned. He looks totally out of it!

I’m no doctor. Klane shrugged. I may have overdosed him a bit. She waved dismissively. He’ll be fine.

And our engineer? Jones asked.

Klane pointed to the makeshift bed the woman had been using. The engineer lay sprawled out on it, snoring faintly.

You stunned her? Harvan asked.

Klane nodded. Twice.

Isn’t that a bit excessive… even for you? Jones sighed.

Tell Alvin I was excessive, why don’t you. She said.

Alvin grinned stupidly at them through his drugged torpor.

What now? Get her back to the ship? Torin wondered.

It might be better if we waited until she woke up before moving her. Jones suggested. At least that way she’s in a familiar environment. It’d be less frightening for her.

You were right about her being not in her right mind. Klane told him. Though to be fair, Alvin did grab her in her own home. That’s enough to get anyone stabbed.

Right. Harvan nodded. We’ll wait.

*****

Fifteen minutes later, the engineer was sitting hunched up on her bed and staring wild-eyed at the people around her.

They had removed their helmets, so as to give her human faces to relate to, but it was clear that she was still terrified.

It’s alright. Jones assured her. We’re here to help you. Not harm you.

Who are you people? She whispered, her eyes huge as she scanned them.

Not your enemies, that’s for sure. Harvan smiled. I’m Major Miko Harvan, with the Imperial Marine Corps. This gentlemen here, He indicated Jones. Is Mr. Jones. It was his detective work that led us to this place. He worked out what had happened.

Jones smiled. You’ve been here quite a while.

She nodded. Years. I kept thinking they would come back. My old crew, that is. Or that one of them would say something so that rescuers might show up. But no-one ever came. Until you.

Your crew abandoned you here? Jones queried.

The engineer nodded. Yes. I guess I thought they might have a change of heart. I don’t even know why they dumped me here. We’d all been crewing together for a long time! Why did they do it? Did someone pay them?

Jones frowned. You don’t remember the woman passenger on your ship?

What woman? We had no passenger. She stated emphatically.

Klane sighed. "There was a woman passenger on the Folly. You don’t remember her because a psion name Tane messed with your head. You were supposed to forget her the moment she left the ship. I guess that worked in reverse, too. Once you were off the Folly, you forgot her."

The engineer scowled. My memory is not that bad. I was abandoned by my supposed friends. There was no woman.

Trust me. Jones said softly. There was. Her boss planted suggestions and altered memories among your crew. You were all conditioned to do whatever she wanted. That’s why your crew left you here. She made them do it. Then she took over your identity and pretended to be you. Your crew went along with that, too. At New Benton, she resigned and left the ship. Your former crewmates think it was you that left the ship. They have no knowledge of her, or of what they did during the voyage. They think you’re living happily on New Benton, as a water engineer.

I don’t understand… The woman sighed. It doesn’t make any sense.

What does make sense, Harvan told her. Is that you were left here to die. You survived. Now, you’ve been rescued. Come with us and we’ll get you out of here. Mr. Jones and the others can explain things in more detail later.

The woman blinked as if it had only just occurred to her that she was, in fact, no longer a prisoner in the old mine.

We can leave?

Jones nodded. Whenever you’re ready. There’s an Imperial warship at the edge of the system. We came here specifically to rescue you.

For a moment, the woman looked confused and then tears began to flow. In between the floods of relief and emotion, she managed. What about my rats?

You can let them go free. I’m sure they’ll be fine on their own. Jones said gently.

She nodded. I guess so. They were here when I arrived. It took a long time to catch them all.

Are there any possessions you want to gather up? Harvan asked.

She looked around at the makeshift home she had made. None of these things were mine, originally. They belonged to the miners. I… I think I should leave them. In case they ever come back.

Well then, Jones said. Shall we go let the rats out and then we can go.

She nodded with a great deal less than enthusiasm.

*****

Two hours later, the little group emerged into the mine’s main hanger, having passed through the lock. The hangar was open to space, so both the engineer and Alvin had on emergency suits. Alvin was still grinning like a fool but now he was capable of talking a little. Regrettably for him, he was spouting gibberish most of the time, and Torin and Malik were dutifully noting it all down for later use.

Jerik and his men had long since left. Harvan’s announcement that they had found their prey had caused the Colonel to leave rapidly, muttering about having wasted his time and other similar comments.

In truth, it was a relief to find the man had not waited for them. A confrontation between him and Harvan would not have been pleasant.

Their own shuttle awaited them and they cycled through its tiny lock two at a time. Inside, Veltin found Alvin’s condition as amusing as the rest of them did.

What happened to him? He asked.

He’s just happy the mission was a success. Malik laughed.

Veltin glanced at the new arrival. Yeah, so am I. You guys know how boring it is sitting here waiting for hours for you guys?

Probably about as boring as walking around in the dark for hours on end. Klane told him. Next time, I’ll stay in the shuttle and you can go with the marines.

Veltin considered the idea and slowly shook his head. What if there was a piloting emergency? Can you even fly?

Klane shook her head. It was a joke, Veltin. A joke.

Veltin nodded. Ah sorry! Boredom short-circuits my appreciation for what others deem as humorous.

Just get us out of here, pilot. Harvan grumped.

Veltin grinned happily, as he turned to the cockpit. Then he turned back. Which ship?

What? Harvan frowned.

Which ship do you want me to take you to? Veltin explained, rolling his eyes. "Fenris or Morebaeus?"

"Fenris, of course! Harvan growled. Why would we want to go to Morebaeus?"

Veltin shrugged. Everyone else is there, that’s all.

What do you mean? Klane frowned. Who’s everyone else?

All of our crew. Veltin told them. "From Ulysses. I heard it on the comms. Captain Rames doesn’t want to be seen as getting in the way of Captain Westinghouse. Treading on toes, that sort of thing. So everyone from Ulysses has gone over to Morebaeus to get out of the way."

Everyone? Malik wondered, exchanging glances with Harvan and Klane.

Veltin nodded. "Except for that woman prisoner you captured on New Benton. She’s still held in the brig on Fenris."

"Anderton’s on Morebaeus?" Harvan asked.

Veltin rolled his eyes again. He does come under the category of everyone!

Klane glanced back at the engineer and Alvin. "She doesn’t seem in so bad a condition and Alvin’s not critical. Plus, Morebaeus has medical supplies of its own, anyhow."

Harvan nodded. "Alright. Take us to Morebaeus."

CHAPTER FOUR

Lewis was in the medical section that Anderton had set up aboard Morebaeus when they brought the rescued engineer in. It wasn’t much of a medical section. Just some dividers for privacy, squirrelled away in a corner. Crates had been rearranged as well in order to give a bit more privacy and the feeling of walls between the area and the rest of the ship.

It was part of the general area that the crew of the Hope’s Breath had made to live in whilst they had worked on getting Morebaeus space-worthy. Anderton had done what he could with the Morebaeus’ own equipment and the colonial medical supplies that the freighter held, but the place looked primitive. Everything that he had to work with was at least fifty years old.

So, Lewis asked him as he held a scanner up to her head. Is my head going to explode, or what?

Anderton snorted. Unlikely. The… incident… with the artefact caused a sudden and uncontrolled increase in blood pressure. Hence the blood vessel ruptures in your eyes, nose and elsewhere. It looked worse than it was.

Lewis scowled at him. Maybe you’d like to look inside the sphere next time?

Anderton smiled. I’m not the psion here. Speaking of which… How are the headaches?

Mostly gone. She admitted. Every now and then I get a stabbing pain, like someone driving a knife into my skull, but it usually passes in a few seconds.

Usually?

Sometimes it hangs around as a dull ache for an hour or so.

Anderton nodded. Well, it looks like the minor ruptures in your cranium have sealed nicely. No need for any kind of invasive pressure relief there.

Good. Lewis told him. I’ve had enough of people drilling holes in my head to last a lifetime.

Anderton nodded and looked at the gold contacts on her skull. Her hair was almost grown enough now to hide them. Almost.

How’s the irritation of your scalp doing? Getting better?

She nodded. Yeah, thanks. Those pills have improved it a lot.

Well, I… Anderton began, but was interrupted by the arrival of Jones, Alvin, Klane and their rescued engineer.

Hey Doc. Klane said without bothering with introductions. Got a couple of people for you to sort out.

Anderton looked at the blood-stained shoulder of Alvin. What have you been up to now?

Long story, Doc. Alvin said. Can you fit us in?

Anderton nodded. Lewis and I are done here. He said, turning to her. Remember! Stay away from that thing until I can work out a strategy for your safe use of it.

I will. I’m not anxious to bleed like a stuck pig again. She said as she hopped off the table. She cast curious glances at the new arrivals as she left.

Now, Anderton sighed. Let’s see what we have here!

*****

Thirty minutes later, Alvin’s wound was properly sealed and on the mend. The engineer was pronounced surprisingly healthy considering the length of time she had spent in less than ideal conditions.

Her name was Kila Derrin. She had always wanted to travel the stars and so had become an engineer with that goal in mind. As soon as her training was up, she enlisted on board the