Incursion Read online

  “Cut the chatter,” snapped Kearney. “Let’s get a flight solution together that doesn’t see us all smashed to shit out here.”

  “Got it,” said Conway, flicking a plan to the main display. “We go right through the middle, shooting the larger bits to knock them clear of Kingdom 10 or break them up. Should work.”

  They all stared at the plan for a few seconds, but it wasn’t getting any prettier. Mason shook his head while Davies quietly whistled. It was a plan, but nobody liked the look of it.

  “Grim,” said Kearney, speaking for them all. “Let’s do it.” It wasn’t like they had options. She reopened the comms channel and dumped their new plan down the link to Kingdom 10. “We’re on our way. Hold tight, Kingdom 10.”

  Solux IX twisted and spun as Conway used the manoeuvring thrusters to re-orient the ship; then the main engines fired again.

  “Three-hundred-second burn at full power,” said Conway, straining against the forces that pressed her into her chair. The crew groaned until Conway snapped at them to shut up.

  “That'll take us past the station in about eight minutes,” said Conway. Solux IX rumbled and shuddered as the engines pushed her along. “If we don’t break up on the way,” she added as a panel fell off the wall and bounced across the cabin.

  The command room fell silent as Charlie Team concentrated on keeping themselves in one piece while the brutal forces crushed them into their seats.

  “How long till we have something to shoot at?” Mason asked when the engines finally cut off.

  “We can hit the big bits with missiles,” said Davies, his face shiny with sweat, “in about ninety seconds. Smaller stuff with the railguns as you see it.”

  Ten peered at his display. The ship’s sensors highlighted the small pieces of debris, but without the targeting computer, it was hopeless. “Too fast, too small, too far away,” he said, shaking his head.

  “We have to try, dammit,” snapped Kearney. Something bounced off the hull hard enough to shake them in their seats.

  “He’s right,” said Davis, “this isn’t going to work.”

  “Solux IX, we have a problem,” said Kingdom 10.

  “We’re working on it,” said Kearney through gritted teeth. “This isn’t easy, you know.” Behind her, Mason triggered one of the railguns and spewed rounds at a piece of debris as the ship tore past.

  “Got it,” he said with a mixture of surprise and satisfaction. In the corner of the main display, a zoomed-in video showed the fragment breaking apart and spinning off in a new direction as the rounds ripped it apart.

  “I have missile lock on the main debris,” said Mason. “Ready to fire in thirty seconds.”

  “Negative, Solux IX, do not fire on that target,” said Kingdom 10 suddenly.

  Solux IX took another blow from a smaller piece of wreckage, jolting them in their seats.

  “It’s going to wipe you out, Kingdom 10,” said Kearney. “We have to hit it soon.”

  “Negative,” repeated Kingdom 10. “Scans show it contains a hyperspace engine core. Missile impact might cause a catastrophic explosion.”

  “Well, fuck,” said Mason, throwing his hands up in frustration.

  “How bad are we talking, Kingdom 10?” asked Kearney.

  “It would kill anyone within a hundred thousand kilometres and sterilise this side of the planet,” said Kingdom 10, “so pretty bad.”

  “We could try shooting it with the railguns,” said Ten, but it was a shitty idea, and he knew it.

  “What’s our closest approach to the debris?” asked Kearney.

  “About twenty kilometres, give or take, in just under three minutes,” said Conway with a guarded tone. “Why, what are you thinking?”

  Kearney was silent for a few seconds. “Three hundred people,” she muttered; then she shook her head, decision made. “Put us on a collision course,” she said firmly. “Not a direct strike, just bounce us off the debris and knock it off course.”

  “That’s insane,” said Mason. “We’ll all be killed.”

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Conway, glancing at Kearney with a frown. “If we get it wrong…”

  “Can you see another way of getting it done? Speak now,” said Kearney forcefully. “Otherwise, get it done. We’re wasting time.”

  “Environment suits?” suggested Davies. “Might help if we survive the impact.”

  “No time,” said Conway as her hands flashed across the computer console, generating a new flight solution. “How’s that?”

  Davies looked at the plan and sucked in air through his teeth. “Trim the angle a few degrees,” he said, “so we strike further up.”

  Conway’s hands flicked over the console. “Better?”

  “Yeah, should give it a gentle nudge,” said Davies, although it was clear he wasn’t happy with the plan.

  “This is suicide,” warned Mason, but nobody was listening.

  “Program is laid in and ready to run,” said Conway as they all stared at the main display.

  “Punch it,” said Kearney.

  Conway hit the trigger. “Manoeuvring thrusters for ten seconds, then a sixty-second main engine burn. Impact ninety seconds after that.”

  “Impact velocity?” asked Kearney as the new flight plan flashed onto the main display. It showed Solux IX looping in toward the debris to strike it only seconds before it reached Kingdom 10.

  “About fifty-five metres per second,” said Conway. The manoeuvring thrusters stopped, and the main engines fired. “And now all we do is wait.” She flicked the display to show the forward view, with flight trajectories over the top and a bright blue circle around the target debris.

  “Sixty seconds,” she said, although they could all see the countdown timer. “If this goes badly, just know that it’s been fun working with you.”

  “Solux IX, your new course is taking you close to the target,” said Kingdom 10. Kearney explained the new plan, and there was a brief silence. “Good luck, Solux IX. And thank you.”

  “Just make sure you’ve smoked the kippers, Kingdom 10,” said Kearney, “and we’ll be back for breakfast.”

  “Fifteen seconds,” said Conway.

  They watched Kingdom 10 shake violently as three smaller fragments struck the station, one after the other, in rapid succession.

  “Look at the size of that thing!” said Davies as the fragment filled the display. “What happened out here?”

  “It’s from one of ours, no doubt about it,” said Mason, his tone grim. “That’s no piece of space junk, it’s from one of our newer battleships. Who the hell blew that to smithereens?”

  “I’ve a nasty feeling we’ll be finding out soon,” said Ten.

  “Five seconds,” said Conway. “Losing power. That last impact must have hit something vital.” Her hands flew over the console as she fired the manoeuvring thrusters to tweak their trajectory

  “Fuck,” said Mason as the debris filled the display. They all leaned away from the screen, as if that would do any good.

  Then there was the most awful impact, and the crew were thrown against their restraints. The ship was filled with the scream of klaxons and the screech of tearing metal. Hull breach alarms flashed across the display before it went blank. Then the ship began to spin violently, the lights failed, and the last thing Ten heard before he blacked out was Conway’s final update.

  “Impact.”

  5

  Ten came around first. His augmented clone comfortably outperformed Charlie Team’s pure human bodies, and he blinked himself awake, ignoring the pain in his neck and head.

  It took him a moment to get his bearings. The ship had stopped spinning, but only the emergency lights were on. The command room was bathed in a dim red light, and all the displays were off.

  “Kearney?” he called, rubbing at his neck. “Davies? Conway?”

  “I’m here,” said Conway with a groan. She released herself from her chair and pushed herself free. “Gravity’s off,” she reported, th
en floated across to check Kearney while Ten shook Davies.

  “Gngh!” said Davies as he woke. “Are we dead?”

  “Feels like it,” muttered Kearney. She looked around, wincing at the pain. “Check Mason.”

  Davies pushed himself out of his chair and checked Mason’s pulse. “He’s alive.” Then he groaned as he hung in the air.

  “How do we get things working again, Double-D?” said Kearney. “Everything’s dead on my console.”

  Davies was quiet for a moment. “Need to restart the central systems. Looks like they’re all offline.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Someone needs to get into the hold and trigger a manual reboot.” He didn’t sound enthusiastic.

  “There's a manual reboot, but it's in the hold, not the cabin?”

  “Yup. And yes, there should be a redundancy in the cabin, but no, there really isn't.”

  “And after we do that?” asked Conway.

  Davies shrugged. “Depends what’s broken.”

  “Get a move on, then,” said Kearney. “Take Ten with you and get it sorted out.”

  Ten and Davies shared a look, but there was no way out of it.

  “After you,” said Ten, pointing at the door at the back of the command room. They floated over, checked that the pressure indicator was showing atmosphere on the far side, then worked the lever to open the door.

  “Take this,” said Conway, tossing a small flashlight to Ten. He flicked it on and shone it out into the dark corridor that led into the rest of the ship.

  “Thanks,” he said without enthusiasm, and then he and Davies pushed themselves through the doorway.

  “Better close this,” said Davies, working the lever again. “Don’t want nasty things to happen.”

  “Ha,” snorted Ten, playing the torch along the walls of the corridor. “Where are the environment suits?”

  “Next door down,” said Davies. “Storage cupboard.” They floated over, pulled out a pair of suits, and spent the next few minutes scrambling into them.

  “That’s better,” said Ten, flicking on the helmet lamps and checking that the communicator worked. “You can hear me?”

  “Ay, loud and clear,” said Davies.

  At the end of the corridor, the door monitor showed vacuum in the hold beyond, and they paused to check everything was secure.

  Then Ten operated the lever, and the door slid partway open. The atmosphere was quickly sucked from the corridor, and when the door was fully open, they could see why. A huge gash had been torn in the ceiling, opening the hold to the vacuum of space.

  “Guess we won’t be getting our deposit back,” muttered Ten. “Where do we find this reboot switch thing?”

  “Over here,” said Davies, pulling himself into the hold. “Should be behind this panel.” He whistled tunelessly as he struggled to open the panel in the suit’s heavily insulated gloves.

  “Do you reckon it worked?” asked Ten as Davies grappled with the panel’s fittings.

  “No idea,” said Davies through gritted teeth. “Ah, got you, you bugger,” he said as the panel swung open. “Let’s give this a go.”

  He squinted at the controls, then flicked the big switch labelled “Power”.

  Nothing happened.

  Davies toggled it back and forth a couple of times, then swore.

  “Do you need to press that one as well?” asked Ten, pointing at a button labelled “On”.

  “Hmm, yeah, maybe,” conceded Davies. He flicked the power switch, then pressed the button, and a small display came on. “Okay, says it’s restarting.”

  “Job done,” said Ten.

  The screen flashed red and began to show alarms and warnings. Then the internal comms system came online, and Ten and Davies were able to link their HUDs to the main computer.

  “It lives,” breathed Davies, not daring to hope. “Let’s see what we have left,” he muttered, switching to diagnostics. He scrolled through the screens for a few moments, then jumped when Kearney called his name.

  “Davies, we have comms back. Are you hearing me?”

  “Loud and clear. Beautiful view of the stars back here where there should be a nice solid hull. Just checking for other damage. Looks like we might have a few systems that still sort of work.”

  “We need engines and thrusters, Double-D. Everything else can wait.”

  “Engines and thrusters,” muttered Davies as he flicked through the screens. “Okay, here’s the bill: multiple hull breaches, near-total loss of atmosphere, reserve tanks ruptured, nav-computer is a bit dicky, fabs are offline, and the coffee machine is fucked. Looks like thrusters are working, main power is at about fifteen per cent, engines are largely functional.”

  “Better than expected. Life support?”

  “Er, no,” said Davies unhappily. “The air scrubbers are toast, the artificial gravity is obviously offline, water recycling is fucked. Kitchen should be okay, but we’ll die of lack of oxygen before food is a problem.”

  “Death is better than those microwave meals,” muttered Ten.

  “Anything else you can do from back there?”

  “Don’t think so,” said Davies.

  “Then get yourselves back up here,” said Kearney. “Conway’s going to point us at the station and try to get us home before we all expire.”

  “Ah, tricky,” said Davies. “There isn’t enough air left to flood the corridor. I think Ten and I are stuck out here for the moment.”

  There was a moment of silence from the command room, as if Kearney and Conway were having a private discussion.

  “Find somewhere safe,” said Kearney eventually, “and get ready for manoeuvring thrusters.”

  “Roger,” acknowledged Davies, “give us a moment.” He closed and secured the panel, then looked around the hold.

  “Anything useful down here?” asked Ten.

  “Sure,” said Davies, “if we had enough time to make use of it. As it is...” He shrugged.

  “Might as well get inside, then,” said Ten, pushing himself back to the door.

  Davies followed, and they closed the door behind them as soon as they were in the corridor.

  “Manoeuvring thrusters in ten seconds,” said Conway over the comms system. “Then everything the engine will give us for as long as it’ll give it to us. Hold on.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Conway announced that Solux IX had scrubbed its speed and was now accelerating gently towards Kingdom 10.

  “We should arrive only a few hours after we run out of warmth and oxygen,” she announced, “but at least Mason’s awake. Seems he took a heavy blow to the head, but he should be fine until he suffocates.”

  “Good to know,” said Ten. “Any chance Kingdom 10 might rescue us in their shuttle?”

  “Can’t reach them,” said Kearney. “Might be our comms, might be theirs.”

  “Or that little stunt failed, and they’re all dead,” said Mason bitterly.

  “Or that,” agreed Kearney. “Either way, we’re on our own.”

  “We’ve got maybe fifteen minutes of O2 left,” said Ten. He and Davies were floating in the corridor between the hold and the command room, moving as little as possible to conserve their air.

  “Roger,” said Kearney. “We’re not much better off in here,” she said, “and we’re hours from Kingdom 10 if they’re even still alive. Been nice knowing you.”

  There was nothing to do but wait for the inevitable.

  Then there was a chime on the comms system, and a new voice interrupted their silent thoughts.

  “Patrol craft Solux IX,” said the unidentified voice, “are you in need of assistance?”

  “Fuck, yes,” said Kearney trying to keep the relief from her voice, “welcome to the party. We’re a bit short of O2. Any chance of a pick-up?”

  “We’re well ahead of you, Solux IX. Hang tight, we’ll have you out of there in a jiffy.”

  Ten minutes later the crew staggered from the wreck of Solux IX into a vast, dim
ly-lit hangar, with maintenance teams and engineering types rushing around like ants in their nest.

  On the deck was a combination of craft. There was stuff they recognised – modern gunboats, a couple of shuttles and their associated paraphernalia, a collection of automated weapons platforms. But there were also old ships that Ten had never seen in person, or designs which had only been encountered in history lessons or in Space Corps handbooks. And there was new gear, stuff none of them had ever seen before.

  “Welcome aboard,” said an officer as they assembled on the deck, giving no sign at all that they were welcome. “I’m Lieutenant Alex Fernandez. I run the engineering teams on Vengeance. While you are aboard this ship, you will do precisely as instructed. No wandering off, no peeking into corners, no enterprising investigation. Is that clear?”

  “What ship is this, sir?” asked Ten. He’d ditched his helmet, but he and Davies both still wore their environment suits.

  Fernandez looked him over and clearly didn’t like what he saw. “And you are?”

  “Marine X, sir. The lasses and lads call me ‘Ten’,” as he gave Fernandez a quick salute. “The ship?”

  Lieutenant Fernandez's eyes dropped to the tag on Marine X’s uniform and its non-standard border. “You're a Penal Marine? Follow orders on this ship, or you’ll be in the brig before you know what’s happening, understood? The old man won't be happy they've sent you. You would have been briefed on Kingdom 10, if you’d made it that far,” said Fernandez coldly. “Now you’ll have to wait for answers.”

  “You can’t tell us which ship we’re on?” said Ten with a frown. “Why not?”

  Fernandez ignored him. “Follow me,” he said, leading them across the hangar.

  “What about Kingdom 10, sir?” asked Conway at the door to a small mess hall as the rest of the crew filed in.

  He gave her a hard stare, then said, “Better than expected. Some minor casualties, two fatalities, impact damage across four sectors and a hull breach, but your manoeuvre worked. We’re clearing the rest of the debris at the moment.”