With Our Dying Breath Page 7

  "Yes sir, Colonel."

  Within a minute Oswald could feel the LANTRn push the Roland forward and the slight pitch and yaw adjustments Chun entered to match the plot. It was close to shift change and Oswald needed to vent.

  "McFarran, you awake yet?"

  "Yes, sir," the Aux replied like an ever ready butler, waiting to serve at the ring of a bell. Oswald appreciated the image but knew what a mistake it would be to make McFarran into such a caricature. "Do you need some assistance, sir?"

  "Meet me in the staff room for pass down, please."

  "Of course sir. I shall be there promptly."

  "Lieutenant Chun, I'm going to meet with the Aux. You have Roland." Oswald slid into the main passage and pulled himself slowly to the staff room. Three of the crew were playing cards, their hands floating before them as they considered their next play.

  "Scram." Oswald ordered playfully and hiked a thumb over his shoulder. He floated nearby as they grumbled and vacated the space. McFarran floated in just behind the flight commander and they floated opposite each other across the table.

  "Sir, I see we have started the turn and burn..." McFarran's tongue came up short when Oswald looked at him with a dark scowl. "Sir, has something happened? Are you dissatisfied with my performance in some way?"

  He pulled the latest optical imagery of the fifth planet. "This is senseless. We have an ancient mystery right here!" He braced his knees against the underside of the staff room's table so as not to go flying when he slammed his fist against its top. "What else could we learn if we just took our time? If we actually sent some scientists instead of raiders?"

  "Sir, with two failed missions already, perhaps Earth Force command deemed it too dangerous." McFarran shrugged, relaxing quickly when he realized Oswald's ire was not directed at him. The puffiness of zero gravity life affected everyone on Roland but by some chance of the Aux's genetics or skeletal structure, his face looked downright bloated. It always had, but Oswald was amazed each time they flew together.

  "Have you read the reports of the initial teams? Or more to the point, looked into who the initial teams were?"

  "Sir, I am sorry to say that I have not. I believe the first ship was of Chinese registry and the second was a Special Service scout." McFarran raised an eyebrow. "What of them?"

  "The Chinese ship wasn't even Earth Force!" Oswald pulled up the ship registry history. "It belonged to Lu-Pang Corp. It was a mining prospector for crying out loud."

  "Sir, that does seem a bit strange."

  "It was some back door dealing with the Chinese and Earth Force. There isn't a bit of useful detail in the report they submitted to EF command. Of course it was submitted to the Chinese government first, so what can you expect?" Oswald rapped his knuckles angrily on the table. "I bet they didn't even bother to map the planet before sending down scavenger teams."

  "Sir, I find that disturbing on many levels."

  "It pisses me right off." Oswald flipped to the Special Service report from the second mission. "This one is almost as sparse. Times, names, and tests redacted. They called it a scout mission but that so-called scout they sent was nothing more than a landing craft. They tried to do a smash and grab job and got nearly wiped out for it. Now it's the Roland's turn to be ordered to do something stupid." He sighed and aimlessly flipped through more screens on the table.

  "Sir, what is to be done?"

  "I'm almost of a mind to just trash our mission orders and set up a research mission instead."

  McFarran looked horrified, as Oswald knew he would. The expression combined with the man's puffy face made quite a site. "Sir, you can't! If for no other reason that the Roland is a spacecraft needed in the defense of Earth. Every day we are gone, she is missed in the fray."

  Oswald glared at McFarran. He knew what the man's reaction would be so it wasn’t fair to hold it against him. But just once he'd like the Aux to read one page past their orders.

  "Of course we can't, Hashi. Even if I were set on doing so, Roland hasn't the right sensor suite or labs to do such an effort justice." He shook his head in frustration. "But still. We're looking at the ruins of a race that could unlock so much. Have you asked yourself if maybe they are the ones who took humanity from Earth to whatever God-forsaken planet the Centipedes call home?"

  "Sir, perhaps it is the Earth that is the colony." McFarran challenged merrily. "But yes, I have indeed bandied that question around, sir." "Thoughts on the satellites then?"

  "Who can know for sure, sir?" McFarran pulled himself down to the couch and strapped in. "Perhaps they are long dead. No one else seems to have blown them up. It is possible they are not for planetary defense at all. Or maybe they only come to life when Prometheus steals the fire and tries to run." He grinned at Oswald with his fat face.

  Oswald stared at him for a moment before nodding. "My thoughts pretty much. We can probably ignore them but that's a pretty big risk. And our mission window is getting smaller.

  "Part of me says leave these ancient relics alone to be studied later. The other part, the spacecraft officer, the war monger, the tactician, says better safe than sorry."

  "Sir, I whole-heartedly agree with the latter you."

  "Me too, burn it all." Oswald sighed. "Tactical, this is Command."

  "Go, Command."

  "I'm not sure they are a threat but discretion is the better part of valor, so it is said. Let's throw some BBs in front of those alien sats and see what they do before we bring Roland any closer."

  "Roger, Colonel," Mathesse answered curtly. "We have an ORBAM remote with a BB warhead.

  "Deploy the remote, drop the BBs in front of all four targets, then have the remote stay on station." Oswald looked at the blurry picture of the first alien satellite that would be destroyed. "We'll see if they respond at all."

  "Roger that, Command. ORBAM remote two deployed." Mathesse paused for a moment as the flight parameters updated on the screen and told Oswald what he had seen for himself. "ETA to first strike is fourteen hours."

  "Major McFarran," Oswald said, rubbing his eyes. "You have Roland." He pulled himself out of the staff room and lazily floated to the beehive to try to get some sleep.

  But sleep would not come. The human body likes something to lie on and the straps in the tubes didn’t cut it. Regardless of how many times a person had gone to space there was a time needed to adjust. The reverse was true too, and in Oswald's case the worse of the two. The somnolence generators weren't helping and when the third ray of cosmic radiation made Oswald's eye register another flash, he gave up and rolled out.

  He stopped by the Ranger detachment to get some face time with Luskin. But Luskin was sleeping and Oswald certainly didn't want to wake him. Two raucous voices, one male one female, could be heard in the next compartment. The decidedly vulgar conversation echoed through the nearby compartments.

  Command Sergeant Ken Salazar and Specialist Monique Sharp looked up from their gear inspection and stopped talking when Oswald pulled himself through the hatch. They were strapped into small work chairs and watched him with unapologetic cheer.

  "Hello Salazar. Sharp."

  "Mona, to my friends, sir."

  "You don't want to know what everyone else calls her!" Salazar gave a lurid grin and Mona punched him hard in the ribs. Oswald got the sense this was a well-worn play. Sharp didn't even blush.

  "I'd appreciate if you two would watch your conversations." Oswald waved a hand towards the hatch. "If for nothing more than the sake of sleepers."

  "Yes, sir." Salazar wore a lop-sided grin. "It's been a while since I was in the space service. I forgot how easy panties get twisted up here."

  "No one likes twisted panties, Sergeant."

  "I don't know about that, Colonel." Sharp's grin mirrored Salazar's.

  Oswald looked at them both flatly and floated back into the main passaged, the Rangers' good-natured laughter following him out. No one in Earth Force could say anything he hadn't heard, so he was not shocked or appalled. But
there was a fine line between enforcing 'upstanding conduct' and sounding like a prude. A wise flight commander knew when to simply float away and mind their own business.

  He made rounds to the entertainment compartment, chatted with crew floating idly here and there. Many admitted to not being able to sleep either. Some were dour and others asked about the real chances that the Triumph might be rescued. Oswald was honest that despite his optimistic answer during the operations net, the chances were low, but he was always hopeful. "If someone like Mathesse can survive," Oswald reassured them humorously, "then anyone can survive." Some laughed hopefully but others replied with perfunctory nods or grunts. Any veteran who understood what an EMP was capable of and could plot a simple vector knew what Oswald knew.

  Some chatted excitedly about being in Delta Pavonis, Earth's farthest reach so far. Oswald shared this energy with those of the crew who found it as amazing as he, though he wondered if Delta P was really as far as they'd been. After all, if they'd kept one big secret, why not another? Operations security was one thing, but hiding alien life was unacceptable, even from Anahita—especially for her.

  He finally drifted to sleep only to be awakened for his shift an hour later. Oswald would have been better off to have not slept at all as he was now tired, groggy, and grumpy. Misty could power nap and wake refreshed. That was a nice ability in his line of work.

  Oswald relieved McFarran and slowly read through the updated logs. Two hours into the shift Mathesse informed him that the BBs were in place, first impact in thirty-eight minutes.

  Oswald spent that time going over the ORBAM load-out Anahita issued Roland. There were guided atmospheric ordnance for enemy vehicles or aircraft, bunker poppers designed to punch through rock and armor, and some old fashioned nuclear warheads for any occasion. If he wanted to risk getting into low orbit the Roland's laser arrays could easily reach down to the surface, unmitigated by any atmosphere. Oswald didn't want to get close to any sort of alien death ray if he could help it.

  The timer to first impact seemed to slow as the counter decreased and a sudden fatigue washed over Oswald. The big-eye focused the strange looking satellite; its alien design once again made Oswald wonder what secrets it might hold. His bleary eyes squinted as he stared on.

  The ancient craft sped along as it had for unknown ages. The ORBAM BBs—which were really half kilogram tungsten slivers—sat relatively motionless in the path of the satellites, ten for each. The first target disintegrated into a cloud of whirling scrap as its aged frame dumbly slammed into the BBs. The others followed suit one by one, as inert as they seemed, dead long ago. Soon four trails of debris, a mixed design of ancient alien and postmodern human, stretched around DP V.

  "Command, Tactical. Looks like all four targets have been destroyed."

  "Roger that, Tactical," Oswald sighed. "I guess we didn’t really have to worry about them after all." The needless destruction of such ageless treasures broke his heart.

  "Command, this is Sensor. We detect no increase in background energy or new movement from DP Five."

  "Roger that, Sensors." Oswald pulled up the orbital flight plan worked out during the flight and sent it to the pilot's computer. It would get the Rangers dropped and covered by the Roland using only a moderate amount of their remaining deltaV. "Flight, please initiate flight plan orbital ops 1."

  "Yes, sir," Chun replied. ETA to first drop is nineteen hours, seven minutes."

  "Roger that, Flight. Set the clock. Ranger, this is Command. We're beginning our approach, first drop in nineteen hours, seven minutes. Make final preps and get some rest."

  "Roger that, Colonel." A tiny bit of nerves edged into Luskin's voice. Oswald had been able to hide his better—it was the true mark of an experienced leader.

  Chapter 10 "Lander three away," Luskin announced over the net as his lander slipped silently away from Roland.

  "Sir, time to Ranger landing is twenty minutes."

  "Roger that, Aux." Oswald checked the status of the ORBAM remotes more as Mathesse's work. landers could not rely on streamlining for braking and landing. They dropped like rocks to reduce time in the air and fired powerful rockets at the last possible moment. It would fire again to reach a recovery orbit quickly. The Earth Force Flight Surgeon General had ordered a limit of two drops maximum per year due to the strain. The lack of atmosphere also prevented the use of any fixed or rotary winged drones.

  The landers’ drop schedule would put each down within a minute of each other to reduce the time enemy ground forces would have to respond. Oswald watched as the three tracks spread apart to the landing zones where EF had detected the beacons.

  "Sir," Breen spoke to ops net fourteen. "I sure hope Special Services chose well. It would seem better to have all the Rangers go after the same site."

  "Astro, this is Aux! Are we having a wonderful time chatting as Roland prepares to possibly face deadly ancient foes?"

  "Uh, roger, Aux," Breen stammered. "I mean, no, Major. Sorry."

  "Astro, I agree with your concern." Oswald was not one for usually enforcing strict net discipline... when not in crisis. "But the major is correct. Keep the chatter down."

  "Yes, sir."

  The big-eye unfortunately was not the best sort of telescope for following fast action. It was designed to stare off into the deep night, gathering as much light as possible, and contemplating what it saw there. It was barely able to keep Luskin's lander in focus and Oswald a nervous tick than any need to double check Delta P Five had no atmosphere so the Ranger was only sure the smudge was actually what he was looking for when the retro rocket flared brightly against the greenish surface.

  Delta Pavonis V had become DPV, or just deep-vee to the crew. The green hue of verdigris shifted somehow as they approached, looking not just ancient but venomous, deadly. And not just for the blood of humanity and long dead aliens scattered below. Oswald had already sucker punched whatever inhabitants might still live below once and he feared that guaranteed nothing but that more bloodshed could ensue.

  "Here come those humans again," he imagined some comic book alien burbling. "Maybe this time they have come in peace. Power down the death ray, Xorblox."

  The mystique of the strange planet changed as well for Oswald. While it was still mysterious to be sure, the excitement of discovery had changed to terror of what might be found. between searching for ancient texts in long searching for bodies in a dark and brooding haunted house. Like the Sphinx of legend the price of failure was death and this world had a history of being able to hold up its end of the bargain.

  Yet Oswald held to the hope that they could leave the scene of the crime relatively untouched. The Rangers had been well trained and the mission profile was pretty specific about where the jump anomalies emanated from. The landers were equipped with direction finders set for the signal.

  "Command, this is C'n D. Ranger suit telemetry is a go. Suit video feeds and vitals are streaming."

  "Roger that C 'n D." Oswald flipped through a few camera feeds showing the different Rangers dropping from their landers, establishing perimeters, and unfolding the small, open framed rovers that barely held each team. "Any signals from DPV?"

  "Negative, Command. Still quiet."

  "So far so good then, Trese. Tactical and C'n D, be sure to keep an eye on the scopes, and not just in proximity to the mission teams. Zoom out and keep the big-eye peeled too." Oswald said this more for his It was the difference lost Incan ruins and benefit, as he was drawn to the displayed alien architecture and scenery that flashed by in the Rangers' feed. He was afraid of his own distraction more than theirs.

  Flight Sergeant Norris was flying the rocket drone for Luskin's team. She took advantage of the low gravity to make slow, fuel efficient jumps over and around the Rangers.

  It was all Oswald could do to not order Luskin or Norris to slow down so he could get a better view.

  The Ranger teams had their own battle net which was tied to the Roland's ops net, but it displayed constant
location and status of each Ranger. Oswald set the ops net to only transmit to the Ranger net on demand—too much chatter could be deadly.

  As Luskin's team approached their mission waypoint, they began moving more cautiously, allowing Oswald more time to watch the background. The construction was strange but not as alien as he had hoped or expected. An ancient alien wall was still a wall, a window, a window. The strangest aspect was the familiarity of the structures coupled with their alien proportions.

  The crumbling stairs leading to ossified doors were tiny and their ratio looked almost silly to Oswald. He knew it was ridiculous to describe anything built by an ancient alien race he'd never seen as silly, but that was the word that kept coming to mind. Luskin's camera panned across what looked like a terribly faded fresco.

  "Ranger, this is Command. Pan back to that wall with the picture or mural. I just want to see if anything there that might tell us what our enemies look like." Oswald threw the last comment in there to give a tactical rationalization for interrupting the mission to satisfy his own personal curiosity. Anahita would see right through it if it came up, but she'd probably let it lie.

  "Roger that, Command." Luskin panned back for a few short seconds. There were outlines and definite shapes, but nothing that could be discerned without a dedicated restoration. "Nothing I can see, Colonel. Moving on."

  Team two signaled they were on station. They deployed a small sensor net and spread out around their mission objective. Command Sergeant Salazar's feed showed the target was in a small sphere nestled beneath an impossibly thin spire.

  "Sir," McFarran interrupted Oswald's amazement, almost earning an undeserved dressing down. "It looks to be some manner of antenna. That makes sense."

  "Or a light house," Breen offered quietly. "Even the mission papers call it a beacon."

  Oswald grunted noncommittally. It was a dire possibility, the rule of unintended consequences. Were they disabling some vital piece of ancient navigation? The place looked forgotten and in obvious disrepair, but he knew from his time in Earth Force that some of the most critical day-to-day systems had been built layer upon layer on the rotting corpses of the giants that had come before. Earth had, after all, been able to detect and garner navigational information from twenty light years away.