Rise of Nimrod Fleet (The Contingency War Book 3) Read online

  During the time spent conducting the search, Warfare Command had ordered Adra’s frigate elsewhere, but she had managed to convince her superiors to release them from regular escort duties. This had been on account of their success in dealing with the disturbance on Way Station G-7J00, and also due to Adra’s insistence that other racketeers were still operating in the vicinity. This wasn’t technically a lie, since there was that possibility, but in reality Adra was simply buying time. It was a lie that might one day catch up with her, but she was willing to take the risk.

  Adra’s report to Warfare Command had also deliberately omitted any information about her suspicions of a new human threat, and especially the rogue Hunter simulant. She had simply blamed the disturbance on the Way Station, along with the theft of the Casey Valera simulant, on racketeer criminals and the incompetence of the base’s former constable, Dhar, whom Provost Adra had brutally eliminated.

  This omission was a serious breach of protocol, but it had been necessary. Since Adra had created the high-functioning Hunter simulants, she knew that the Warfare Council would hold her accountable should one of them malfunction and threaten the CoreNet. And she would not be able to hunt down the humans and rogue simulants if she was stripped of her title and her command. She had worked too hard and for too long to lose her elite status now. With it would go any chance of being allowed to pursue her study of Hedalt history on their ancestral home world; the planet the humans called Earth. The threat of this was the only thing that ever caused Adra to feel fear.

  Her idle thoughts of Earth began to cause anger to bubble up inside her; anger over how the Masters had taken her race from the planet and pressed them into servitude. It was not enough that the Masters had denied them their right to evolve naturally on Earth as its dominant species, but by stealing them from it, they had handed the planet by default to the lesser, weaker, homo sapiens instead.

  To add further insult the Masters had made it impossible for the Hedalt to ever leave the many outposts, harsh moons and worlds on which they were forced to serve. The shackles that bound them were a genetically-engineered weakness to super-luminal space travel, which made Hedalt brainwaves incompatible with the sub-layer of space they called the Fabric. If any Hedalt attempted to commandeer a ship and jump away, their brains would instantly suffer fatal neural damage. Only a freak mutation present amongst a minuscule fraction of the population gifted some individuals a tolerance to super-luminal travel. But even for these few, Adra and Lux amongst them, too much exposure to the Fabric would still lead to catastrophic neurological damage and, ultimately, death.

  The only beneficial side-effects of the Masters’ genetic meddling were the Hedalt’s exceptional strength and long-life. These attributes were granted only because the inconvenience of Hedalt mortality had become bothersome to the Masters. Growing and re-training replacement workers every forty to sixty years due to them dying of injury or age was simply inefficient, and so the Hedalt were built to endure, and made to last.

  Adra tried to push her anger towards the Masters out of her mind and focus on the task at hand, but there was no escaping the fact that the two were inextricably linked. The Masters may have been long gone, but their technology lived on. And it had been Adra who had given it life by repurposing their synthetic bodies and cybernetic components to create human-simulant hybrids.

  Careful to ensure that Lux could not see her, Adra massaged the back of her neck and flexed her aching muscles. She was still in some pain from the multiple knife injuries sustained while fighting the racketeers, and her frigate was similarly still battle-scarred, even accounting for the running repairs. Taking such a massive ship into a dense asteroid field was a risk, despite the mass of its hull and power of its weapons systems, but Adra had to know what secrets were contained inside the asteroid base. She knew now, without question, that an element of humanity had survived, despite the Hedalt Empire combing the galaxy for over three hundred years to ensure no trace remained. The Warfare Council’s belief that the human race was extinct had prompted their decision to systematically dismantle the Hunter Corvette fleet over a period of decades, so that only a handful of these ships now remained. But Adra had always believed this action to have been premature. Humans had not been eradicated, and the human brain inside at least one high-functioning simulant had become aware of what it was and joined them.

  It was the simulant that concerned Adra the most. Humans were weak; Warfare Command had defeated Earth Fleet at the peak of its strength, and whatever pitiful revenge armada the humans might assemble would be squashed just as easily. But a simulant, awake to what it was, and in full control of the Masters’ former ability to travel through and manipulate the CoreNet was more of a threat than a thousand Nimrods. The CoreNet was the means through which the Hedalt Empire maintained control over the army of simulant slaves that served its will, including those that were fundamental to the operation of its vast armada of warships. That this rogue simulant – this anomaly – was able to manipulate the CoreNet posed a grave threat to the empire’s system of control. It had to be eliminated.

  Adra pointed to one of the halo of screens above her command platform and drew her hand to her chest, causing the display to swoop down on a thin metal arm. She examined the images that the probes had taken whilst inside the cave and felt a grudging admiration for the ingenuity the humans had shown in building this base under the noses of the empire. She wondered how many others there were still out there among the stars. Her musings were interrupted by a shudder that was severe enough to throw her slightly off balance. An alarm sounded briefly before Lux silenced it and turned to face her.

  “One of the larger asteroids made it through our firing perimeter, Provost,” said Lux, calmly. “We have sustained only minor damage, but the longer we remain the greater the risk to the ship.”

  “I am aware of the risk, Adjutant Lux,” Adra answered, sharply, slightly aggravated by how Lux had stated the obvious. But she was unconcerned for the welfare of her War Frigate; she knew its capabilities far better than Lux. “Is my shuttle ready?”

  “Yes, Provost.”

  “Then we will board this base and together we will learn the extent of the human resurgence,” said Adra, stepping down from the command platform and walking along the central artery of the frigate, towards the shuttle bay. Adra had chosen her words deliberately. To begin with, Lux had irritated her with his constant questions and second-guessing, but in their recent encounters he had proved himself to be strong, capable and, most important of all, loyal. And though he still occasionally overstepped, as he had done moments earlier, she needed his support. The longer Adra continued to evade or disobey orders from Warfare Command, the more perilous her situation would become. And though it pained Adra to admit it, she needed Lux as an ally. She needed his trust, not just his blind obedience.

  Lux dithered at his station, slightly stunned that Adra had referred to them as a team, rather than merely as commander and subordinate. It was a small detail, but significant too, at least to Lux. He composed himself, before sweeping off the bridge in pursuit of his Provost, filled with pride and a thirst to prove himself worthy of her faith in him.

  THREE

  Lux piloted the shuttle alongside the outer airlock door and set the small ship down on the deck next to the main docking umbilical. Their scans had shown no indication of external security systems or weapons systems, and they had detected only a low residual power signature. As far as they could discern, the base had been abandoned in a hurry.

  Lux sealed off the rear compartment of the shuttle from the cockpit section, before latching their docking ring onto the airlock door. Powerful cutting lasers then began to slice through the metal as if it were nothing more than balsa wood.

  Without a word to one another, Adra and Lux got out of their seats and conducted final checks on their suits; a survival variant of the black armor that was designed for harsh atmospheres and even vacuums for a limited amount of time. A heavy thud reve
rberated throughout the ship and Lux turned back to check his console.

  “We have cut through and established a seal,” Lux announced, “there is pressure inside the base and the air is at a breathable concentration.” Then, encouraged by Adra’s earlier comment about them working together, he chanced an opinion. “If I may, Provost, I would still advise wearing our helmets until we are sure there are no toxins present in the air.”

  Adra glanced across to Lux with her sharp green eyes, “You suspect that the humans would poison the air?”

  Lux nodded, “I suggest we take no chances.”

  Adra stepped up to the partition door that separated the cockpit from the rear compartment. “You give them more credit than they deserve,” she said flatly. “The humans are arrogant. They would not expect us to discover this base.” Lux was silent and merely bowed his head a fraction to show he deferred to Adra’s greater wisdom. But, as with most of her exchanges with Lux, her response had been a test to check whether the young Adjutant would accept Adra’s judgment without question, and she was pleased to see that he had. In truth, Adra shared Lux’s view that caution was necessary. “Nevertheless, we will proceed with helmets enabled.”

  Though Adra had not said, “I agree with you,” in so many words, the fact she had gone with his suggestion meant more to Lux than the stern Provost could possibly know. It was more than an acknowledgment of his input; it was an acknowledgment of his value. Provosts seldom offered praise, and for a subordinate to seek recognition was seen as vanity, something that was beneath the station of the elite officers of Warfare Command. Yet, to receive recognition from Adra, even for something as seemingly insignificant as her agreeing with his assessment, made him feel triumphant.

  “Yes, Provost,” Lux answered, before quickly pressing a panel on his wrist, causing his helmet to swoop overhead from its stow inside the armored suit. The full, black facemask not only sealed him from the outside environment, but also ensured that Adra could not see his prideful reaction.

  Adra also enabled her helmet and then released the partition door to the rear compartment. The pressure equalized and Adra stepped up to the hatch opening, before checking the environment readout in her visor display. It showed a temperature of twelve degrees Celsius and an oxygen concentration level of just under fifteen per cent. Without their helmets and breathing systems, the low oxygen would rapidly accelerate exhaustion and inhibit mental functions, which was reason enough to keep them attached, despite the suits’ sensors detecting no signs of toxins. Adra drew her plasma pistol and stepped through the hatch opening and into the base.

  “There is a junction ahead,” said Lux, reading the information on the inside of his visor as they advanced along the corridor. “The main section of the base appears to be directly ahead. I am detecting no signs of life; no movement, no heat sources that would indicate human life.”

  “They have already run from this place,” said Adra, with a mix of disdain and irritation, “but the base may yet reveal to us where they went. Locate a command center where we can interface with their computer systems.”

  Lux moved ahead of Adra to allow the short-range scanners in his suit to peer more deeply inside the structure. Together with the data from their earlier probes, this began to form a simple map of the base. He focused in on what looked to be a large space on the upper level, but as he approached the door separating the outer corridor from the main base, a ripple of electrical activity danced across his visor display and then vanished. He initially dismissed it as mere interference or static, but then realized he was detecting nothing that could account for the source.

  “Is there a problem, Adjutant?” said Adra, noticing that Lux appeared to have halted.

  Lux waited, his eyes flicking around the inside of his visor, but the interference did not return. “No, Provost,” he said after a slight delay, concerned that Adra would think him timid and nervous for mentioning such a trivial detail. “I believe I have located an area that may serve as a command center,” he continued quickly, not allowing Adra to question him further. “Through these doors, there is a stairwell in the center of the main concourse, to the left. My estimation is that the command center is on the second level on the opposite side to the stairwell.”

  Had Adra been able to see Lux’s hesitant eyes, she may have pressed him further, but she was eager to enter the base and discover its secrets. She grabbed the handle of the hefty safety door, pistol held at her side and pushed through onto the concourse. Lights flickered on as the door swung open, but only enough to bathe the base in a moonlight glow, and other than the thrum of the lighting circuits and the sharp clack of their boots on the stone floor, there was no sound. Adra marched briskly along the concourse towards the stairwell that Lux had indicated, while the adjutant followed more cautiously a few meters behind, with his weapon held ready.

  As Lux moved deeper into the base he noticed a series of scratches and pock marks carved into the dull rock floor. As he stopped and crouched down to inspect them his visor automatically displayed its analysis, showing traces of lead and copper inside the grooves. Residuals from primitive weapons fire? wondered Lux. But why would humans be firing weapons in their own base? He stood with the intention of alerting Adra to his discovery, but the Provost was already on her way up the stairwell. He hurried after her, feeling a growing sense of unease about the safety of the base, but then the electrical interference dashed across his visor again and he stopped dead, watching it. This time it did not vanish. Suddenly, an object swept out of the shadows from behind one of the stone pillars at the far end of the concourse and darted upwards. Lux’s visor flashed red, highlighting the object in a white chevron and identifying it as an Earth Fleet sentinel drone.

  Lux opened his mouth to warn Provost Adra, but before he could draw breath, he was struck in the chest and knocked to his back. He groaned and looked down to see a metal shard about the same size as his thumb embedded into his chest plate. He reached for it, but was then paralyzed by a surge of electrical energy. The jolt only continued for a few seconds, but the pain was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced before, even during a jump. The overlay inside his visor went blank and his helmet retracted automatically as all power to his suit failed. The sentinel swooped lower and Lux rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding another projectile that dug into the floor where he had lain on his back moments earlier, before dumping its electrical charge harmlessly into the rock. Lux pulled himself up behind one of the pillars and looked for Adra, but then he heard a distant, shrill scream.

  “Provost!” Lux called out at the top of his voice, but the effort hurt his chest, which still throbbed from the impact of the electroshock projectile. Lux was familiar with these weapons from studying the archives of the war. Sentinels were a late Earth Fleet development designed primarily to attack and disable the simulants that crewed Hedalt warships. They would be injected into the body of Hedalt ships inside the shafts of disarmed torpedoes, with nose sections designed to puncture the hull like spears. Once inside they would fire their electroshock projectiles at the simulant crew. If enough could be disabled, the ship would no longer be able to function. The tactic was effective for only a short time before Warfare Command adapted and was able to detect and shoot-down the torpedoes before they hit their targets.

  “Provost Adra!” Lux called out again, ripping the projectile from his chest plate, but there was no answer, and the communication system inside his suit was also offline. He peered around the pillar, spotting the sentinel, which was making a slow arc around towards him. He reached for his plasma pistol, but then remembered he’d been holding it when he was hit. Scanning the area around where he had fallen, he saw it in the center of the rock floor, tantalizingly just out of reach.

  Lux edged around the pillar, using it to shield himself from the sentinel, and then he heard two more percussive thuds from somewhere above him, followed by the piercing screech of the electroshock projectile releasing its violent charge. Had it n
ot been for his armor absorbing the burst, he would certainly be dead, and if Provost Adra had also been hit, she could be dead or dying too. He cursed himself for not speaking out about the interference in his visor when he’d had the chance. He now realized that no detail was insignificant, no matter how small, and his mistake may have cost him his life, and the life of his commander. Even if they survived, it would mean dishonor, unless he could do something to redress the balance and fix his mistake.

  He took a deep breath and pushed himself upright. The air was thin and without servo assistance from his heavy armored suit, the lack of oxygen combined with the additional mass would slow him down. But Lux knew he was strong and he was sure he could make it to the pistol before the sentinel had a chance to fire again. He had no choice; it was either that or die.

  He rushed out from behind the pillar and swooped low, grabbing the pistol in his right hand as another electroshock projectile skipped off the rock surface and embedded into a pillar behind him, before sparking into life like a firework. Lux skidded to a halt — his armor screeching across the grey stone floor — took aim and fired. The sentinel exploded in midair and crashed to the ground in flames.

  There was no time for celebration, or relief, as Lux was alerted to several more shots coming from somewhere above him. It was the same booming thuds that indicated at least one more sentinel was inside the base. But then he heard the rapid whine of a plasma pistol in reply. She’s still alive! Lux realized, before pushing himself to his feet and charging towards the stairwell. He made it only a few paces before stumbling and falling to one knee; his head was pounding and he was breathing heavily, yet no amount of air entering his lungs seemed to counter the weakness he felt in his muscles. More shots rang out above and he gritted his teeth and pressed on, forcing his legs to climb the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. At the top of the stairwell he swung around and collapsed over the railings; the short climb had felt like a mountain ascent.