Atlantia Series 2: Retaliator Read online

  They slid open and he lunged out, grabbed the Marine on his left in a ferocious grip and hurled him into the Marine on the right with enough force to lift both men off the deck. The soldiers smashed together, their weapons pinned between them as they crashed down onto the deck, and Kordaz leaped upon them and pinned them down beneath his immense weight.

  Kordaz grabbed the Marine beneath him by his hair and yanked his head up before smashing it down into the face of the Marine beneath them both. A sickening crack echoed through the corridor as the two soldiers slumped unconscious. Kordaz climbed off their bodies and grabbed their plasma rifles, slinging one across his back by its strap as he hefted the other into a firing position and crouched down alongside the fallen men. He rifled through their webbing pouches and pocketed their plasma magazines.

  ‘Don’t move.’

  Kordaz froze and then slowly looked over his shoulder.

  The doctor who had apparently been asleep crouched behind him, a small scalpel pressed against Kordaz’s neck as he pressed his weight against Kordaz and the rifle slung across his back.

  ‘I know where to cut you, so drop the rifles,’ the doctor said.

  Kordaz peered at the little man whose face was trembling with supressed fear, his eyes wobbling in their sockets. But despite his fear, the doctor held his ground. The blade was pressed against a tiny spot where, beneath the bulky plates of cartialage that protected Kordaz’s spine, a small gap led to an artery. The humans had learned a great deal about Veng’en biology during their many wars.

  Slowly, Kordaz reached around with his left arm as he kept his gaze upon the doctor’s fearful eyes, and his long finger curled around the trigger of the rifle slung across his back.

  ‘Don’t make me kill you,’ Kordaz growled, aware that the doctor had been instrumental in bringing him back to health. ‘I’m going to leave now.’

  The doctor shook his head. ‘I can’t let you do that.’

  ‘Drop the blade,’ Kordaz snapped.

  The doctor panicked, his eyes flaring as his shoulder moved forward and his leg shifted position to drive his weight behind the wicked little scalpel and push it into Kordaz.

  Kordaz fired the plasma rifle.

  The shot was deafeningly loud and Kordaz felt searing pain high between his shoulders as the super–heated plasma shot burst out and smashed through both the doctor’s knife arm and his head.

  Kordaz moved, his reflexes far quicker than that of any human as he rolled clear of the seething shower of plasma and burning flesh. The doctor’s body toppled backwards and thumped down onto the deck, his neck and head a cauterised lump of smouldering black flesh.

  Kordaz heard a flurry of shouts coming from the bridge decks above, and he leaped to his feet and dashed away from the sick bay and into the maze of passages and corridors that led toward the Sylph’s hold.

  *

  Evelyn leaped down the stairwell, landed hard and turned to descend the next flight of steps as the Marines tumbled down behind her in pursuit.

  ‘The Veng’en cruiser is holding position!’ Bra’hiv’s radio crackled. ‘They’re not boarding!’

  ‘Hold position on the bridge,’ Bra’hiv replied. ‘Stand by!’

  Evelyn burst into the sick bay corridor and immediately smelled the stench of burning flesh staining the air. She saw a faint blue haze as she ran into the corridor and then the body of the doctor sprawled on the deck.

  ‘Man down!’

  The Marines flooded onto the deck with her and rushed past the dead doctor’s body to the two fallen Marines as Evelyn hurried into the sick bay. She saw immediately that Andaim was still lying unconscious inside his oxygen tent and that Kordaz’s gurney was empty. Beside the gurney an elderly doctor was struggling to get to his feet.

  ‘What happened?’ Evelyn demanded as she helped him up.

  ‘He broke free,’ the doctor gasped weakly, ‘knocked me out. I don’t remember anything after that.’

  ‘The two sentries are battered but they’ll be fine,’ Bra’hiv said as he burst into the sick bay and saw Andaim still in his tent. ‘Looks like the other doctor tried to stop the Veng’en from escaping and got shot in the face for his trouble. If I catch that leathery son of a bitch I’ll repay him in kind.’

  Evelyn looked about her and shook her head. ‘Why didn’t he kill both doctors?’

  ‘He’s a Veng’en,’ Bra’hiv snarled. ‘Who knows what goes through their minds? The reason everybody else survived is luck, nothing more. We find him, we kill him.’

  ‘We can’t,’ Evelyn protested. ‘He knows something about the Word, something that could help us. He didn’t tell me everything, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘The Veng’en don’t do help,’ Bra’hiv said. ‘Not when it comes to humans anyway. He just killed one of our own, Evelyn!’

  Evelyn glanced out of the sick bay doors at the doctor’s corpse. She knew what she wanted to say, but she also knew how the general would respond to it. Giving a Veng’en the benefit of the doubt wasn’t something the old soldier was going to find easy.

  ‘Evelyn?’

  The voice was a whisper, weak and distant, but Evelyn felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she realised that Andaim was talking to her. She rushed to the side of the tent and peered through the translucent walls to see Andaim looking at her, his eyes half–closed and his voice faint.

  ‘I saw him escape.’

  ‘What did he do?’ Evelyn asked.

  Andaim swallowed thickly.

  ‘He knocked out the doctor and the two guards,’ he rasped. ‘Then the other doctor put a blade to his neck. The Veng’en fired and then fled.’

  Bra’hiv scowled. ‘The doctor was doing his duty.’

  ‘The doctor was risking his life for no good reason,’ Evelyn snapped back. ‘He should have called for help. What the hell was he thinking?’

  ‘He wasn’t thinking,’ Andaim whispered. ‘The Veng’en didn’t shoot until he had to.’

  Evelyn turned to the general. ‘We need to capture him, not kill him.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn what you think,’ Bra’hiv snapped. ‘As long as he’s alive we’re all in danger here.’

  ‘So is the Veng’en,’ Evelyn shot back. ‘Our mutual enemy is the Legion and Kordaz can see things that we can’t. We can use him.’

  Bra’hiv was about to reply when they both heard Andaim sigh and his head sank back onto the pillows.

  ‘He’s weakening,’ Evelyn said. ‘We don’t have much time.’

  ‘We should use the microwave scanners,’ Bra’hiv said, ‘take the chance that the Infectors haven’t been able to colonise too deeply yet. Maybe he’ll come out of it okay?’

  ‘Is that a risk you’d want to take, general?’ she challenged.

  The reply came from behind them.

  ‘It’s a risk we’re all going to have to take.’ Qayin loomed in the sick bay entrance, his face grim. ‘The Legion is spreading.’

  Evelyn felt a cold ball form in the pit of her belly as Qayin held out a data pad for her. Bra’hiv stood beside her as she looked down at it. A schematic of the ship, it showed the warmer engine bays and the lower holds now glowing with small patches of heat.

  ‘How are they doing it?’ Evelyn gasped. ‘The temperature down there is close to freezing!’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Qayin said. ‘But we’re running out of time on all fronts. If we don’t get off this wreck in the next few hours we’re going to become permanent residents, you know what I mean?’

  ***

  XXII

  Captain Idris Sansin straightened his uniform and lifted his chin.

  ‘Open the channel,’ he said simply.

  ‘You’re going to talk to them?’ Mikhain uttered. ‘They just shot down two of our Raythons!’

  ‘Who got too close, due to their inexperience,’ Idris corrected him. ‘Given the circumstances, I’m forced to give the Veng’en the benefit of the doubt, however briefly.’

  Lael flicked a
switch on her console and the viewing panel switched from a view of the Veng’en cruiser to one of the vessel’s commander.

  It had been a long time since Idris has stared into the eyes of a Veng’en warrior, although not nearly long enough. Their mutually antagonistic history meant that neither side could look at the other without feeling emotions of disgust, resentment, perhaps even raw hatred. As a species the Veng’en knew little of mercy or compromise, their leadership obsessed with destroying human endeavour wherever it was found. Diplomacy was a foreign concept to them and Idris knew from bitter experience that any hint of reconciliation was usually a veil for ambush or betrayal.

  ‘Captain Idris Sansin, Colonial Fleet Service Atlantia.’

  The Veng’en stared back at him, cruel yellow eyes devoid of anything that Idris could recognise as emotional or of soul. Reptillian in appearance, hairless and with skin that altered colour depending on their surroundings and emotions, nothing about the Veng’en spoke of trust or compassion.

  ‘Ty’ek, Veng’en Cruiser Rankor,’ came the digitally harmonized reply, sounding both primally rough and technologically modern at the same time, adding to the alienating experience of conversation. ‘Stand down your weapons and fighters immediately or more of your people will suffer the same consequences as the two Raythons we…’

  ‘Go to hell,’ Idris snapped with a vehemence that surprised himself. ‘Unless you have something useful to say, get lost or I’ll have my fighters and gunners blast you into oblivion.’

  It wasn’t easy to see emotion on a Veng’en face, mostly because they expressed so little recognisable facial movement, but the warrior’s rough skin turned a rippling shade of darker red that flickered like cloud shadows across his face. For an instant Idris thought he saw a widening of the Veng’en commander’s eyes, as though surprised.

  ‘We will crush you,’ Ty’ek snarled in response.

  ‘So crush us!’

  The Veng’en’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘The vessel you have encountered is a plague ship and it must be destroyed.’

  ‘We will destroy it when we’re good and ready.’

  ‘It contains the abomination that you created,’ the Veng’en pressed. ‘There should be no delay.’

  ‘We have people aboard.’

  ‘That is unfortunate. Remove your vessel from the area and we shall destroy the Sylph.’

  ‘You were here before us,’ Idris challenged, deciding not to reveal that there was a Veng’en warrior aboard the Sylph also. ‘Why have you come back?’

  ‘That is not of your concern. If you do not leave immediately we will destroy the Sylph anyway before turning our attention to you.’

  ‘Do you really think that I’ll stand by and watch you slaughter innocent people?’

  ‘You don’t have a choice, captain.’

  ‘There is always a choice and mine is to stand firm.’

  ‘It is a plague ship!’ Ty’ek snarled. ‘You do not have the right to stop us!’

  ‘To hell with your rights! Nobody has forgotten what the Veng’en did to their prisoners of war. You’re animals, every last one of you. I’d sooner see the Atlantia destroyed than let you take another single life in cold blood!’

  Idris turned his back on Ty’ek’s image on the display screen and whipped his hand back and forth across his throat as he looked at Lael. Instantly the communications link was severed.

  Mikhain stared at the captain for a long moment. ‘A touch less cordial than he was probably expecting.’

  ‘I don’t give a damn,’ Idris snarled, more to himself than to the XO. ‘If there’s one thing that I’ve leaned about the Veng’en it’s that you never show them a weakness.’

  ‘Turning your back on one of them is considered by the Veng’en to be the ultimate insult,’ Mikhain pointed out. ‘It suggests you have no fear of them.’

  ‘Good,’ Idris replied as he looked up to the tactical station. ‘What’s their status?’

  ‘They’re holding station sir, weapons are still charged but they’re not firing.’

  ‘Well now that you’ve got their backs up good and proper, what the hell do we do?’ Mikhain asked.

  Idris thought for a moment before replying.

  ‘I didn’t tell them that we have one of their people aboard the Sylph,’ he replied.

  ‘No need, they’d just have murdered him. They’ve done it before,’ Mikhain said. ‘They sacrificed the Veng’en cruiser Feere’en with all hands aboard when it was engaged with one of our own at the Battle of Talliera, just to ensure a Colonial vessel was also destroyed in the engagement.’

  ‘That was before the Word,’ Idris said. ‘You heard him: the Word has attacked their species too. They’re possibly facing extinction, just like we are. The life of a single Veng’en may now have more importance to them than before, and it may be the reason they’ve come back. We can use that to our advantage and if we can break through their jamming we might be able to…’

  ‘Signal coming through sir,’ Lael said. ‘They’re hailing us again.’

  The bridge fell silent and Mikhain raised an eyebrow. Capitulation was unlikely, even if the circumstances that Idris had outlined were indeed correct. But to re–hail an enemy vessel after being cut off was, for a Veng’en, certainly a first.

  ‘On screen.’

  Ty’ek’s face reappeared.

  Idris waited, watching the reptilian commander without expression and letting the silence draw out, forcing the Veng’en to speak first.

  ‘I heard of your name when I was young,’ Ty’ek said. ‘As children, we burned your effigy and swore that if we ever met you it would be our honour to die while cutting your throat.’

  ‘What do you want, Ty’ek?’

  ‘I want to speak to my soldier,’ the commander replied.

  Idris peered at Ty’ek. ‘You know that your soldier is aboard the Sylph?’

  ‘The distress signal was Veng’en.’

  ‘And you answered it, even though you had left him behind in the first place. Why?’

  ‘It is not of your concern,’ Ty’ek growled.

  ‘Why did you maroon him aboard the Sylph?’

  ‘Because he was infected,’ Ty’ek snarled. ‘If he still lives then perhaps we were mistaken.’

  Idris, standing with his hands behind his back, watched the Veng’en for a long moment before replying. The commander could have had a change of heart toward his trapped comrade, but then again for all the reasons stated by Mikhain it could all be a veil for some nefarious attempt to capture or destroy ships like the Atlantia who answered the distress beacon.

  ‘Your soldier is safe among my people,’ Idris said finally.

  Another broadside of deep, clucking laughs that sounded as though Ty’ek was choking.

  ‘Safe, among humans.’ The laughing ceased abruptly. ‘There is no such thing as safe among your people. I demand to speak to Kordaz immediately or I will open fire upon you and all of your vessels.’

  Idris smiled bleakly.

  ‘Then you will have to destroy us, commander,’ he replied, ‘because until you stop jamming our communications nobody can talk to anybody aboard the Sylph.’

  ‘We will do the talking, captain,’ Ty’ek replied. ‘I will send a platoon of my finest men to board the Sylph and…’

  ‘Do that and we’ll blow them to pieces.’

  ‘This is our vessel!’ Ty’ek roared. ‘We found her.’

  ‘She is a Colonial merchant ship and was never yours to take in the first place. Where is her crew?’

  Ty’ek, as much as he could, smirked at the captain. ‘What crew? We found her becalmed and deserted.’

  ‘If that were true,’ Idris growled, ‘then her logs would not have been wiped. You abducted them, didn’t you? To do so is a crime that cannot go unpunished.’

  Ty’ek shook his head. ‘And your crimes, against so many other species?’

  ‘Where the hell are they?!’

  Ty’ek’s rage boiled over. �
��They’re in the engine room! That monstrosity you created took them. My men fled for their lives!’

  Idris Sansin stared at the Veng’en commander for a long moment and then turned to his XO.

  ‘They’re still aboard?’ Mikhain uttered in horror.

  Lael worked the instruments on her console but she shook her head.

  ‘The Veng’en jamming is preventing me from scanning the Sylph’s engine bays,’ she said, ‘but the original scans I made showed only tiny pockets of heat scattered around them.’

  Idris frowned thoughtfully. The Word, the Legion, the Swarm or whatever people chose to call it had a means of protecting itself against cold by huddling together in dense spheres and vibrating, generating heat in the centre of the sphere. Those bots on the outside would move slowly, taking their turn in the cold before moving into the centre to warm up again. Although not a permanent defence against the absolute zero of deep space, the process did enable the Word to survive long periods of near–freezing temperatures.

  Slowly, he began to imagine a scenario in which the Word may have managed to harvest humans to assist them in the process, and with the realisation his felt a tremor of disgust twist his stomach.

  Mikhain turned to the viewing screen and spoke directly to Ty’ek.

  ‘How many of your soldiers did you leave behind on the Sylph?’

  ‘Four,’ Ty’ek replied. ‘Three of them died quickly, however.’

  ‘How many crew did the Sylph have?’

  Ty’ek shrugged. ‘No more than two dozen.’

  Mikhain turned to Lael. ‘How many heat signatures did you detect in the Sylph’s engine bays when we first arrived?’

  Lael looked at her displays. ‘Eighteen visible signatures.’

  ‘They’re still alive,’ Idris whispered, almost to himself. ‘They’re still down there.’

  He turned to the viewing screen. ‘We need you to cease jamming us so that we can contact our people and warn them. Every single person aboard that ship could be in immense danger.’

  ‘And we,’ Ty’ek snarled back, ‘want our soldier back and the entire Sylph blasted into history, now!’

  ‘We can’t solve this with conflict,’ Idris replied. ‘The Sylph is a plague ship and right now we could be on the verge of losing everybody aboard!’